#and they kept coming and i was still fighting

[illyrianbitch]

Are We Still Friends? — Part Four

Pairing: Reader x Azriel

Summary: You navigate the aftermath of your confrontation. Azriel takes his first steps toward making things right.

Warnings: brief mentions of injury, bruises, and physical fighting. nyx being a cute baby. some fun introspection. reader is tired and overwhelmed. az is honest and open (hallelujah)

Word Count: 7k+

Part Three

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

Rhys was trying to be serious. 

He truly, truly was. 

From behind his polished desk, he looked every inch the High Lord—back straight, jaw tight, fingers drumming against the wood. His mouth opened, closed, then opened again, as though he couldn’t decide where to start.

You shifted in your seat, your body aching in strange places from the fight. The cut on your cheek throbbed and the bruising across your knuckles made every twitch of your fingers tender. But none of it compared to the strain in your cheeks—from holding back a laugh.

Feyre was perched on the arm of a chair beside you, Nyx cradled in her arms, his tiny fingers gripping the fabric of her flowy blouse. She wasn’t looking at you—refusing to, actually. Her gaze was locked firmly on her son, her lips pressed together in a trembling line, but you could see the corners twitching with suppressed amusement. You kept your gaze on her, waiting until the burn of your stare would render too hot for her to ignore. 

It didn’t take long.

Feyre’s resolve crumbled as soon as her eyes met yours. She let out a laugh—sharp and bright and loud in the too-quiet room.

Rhys’s head snapped up. “Feyre, please. Not you too.”

Not you too. Morrigan had found the situation just as amusing. 

Her laughter only grew, and Nyx joined in, making incomprehensible happy gurgles in response to his mother’s amusement. 

“I’m sorry,” she said, though she didn’t sound sorry at all. 

She passed Nyx to your open, offering arms, and crossed the room, wrapping her arms around Rhys’s neck. Her cheek brushed against his as she murmured—loud enough for you to hear, “You have to admit it’s funny.”

Rhys groaned, glancing at you. He opened his mouth, probably to protest, but you cut in, your voice laced with mock sternness as you bit back a smile. “Yeah, Rhys. You have to.”

“I don’t have to do anything,” he replied, fixing you with a look. “It is not funny.”

You gasped dramatically, adjusting Nyx in your lap and covering his tiny,pointed ears. “Don’t teach your son it’s okay to lie.”

Another groan. A hand dragged down his face, but his lips twitched as though fighting a losing battle. Finally, with a resigned shake of his head, he muttered, “Alright. Fine. It’s funny. But—

His words faltered. 

“I am sorry,” you offered, filling the silence. You raised your free hand solemnly. “I lost my cool. That’s my bad. But in my defense, she really had it coming.”

Rhys casted a look at Feyre, who was leaning against the desk now, a smile still tugging at her lips. He shook his head again, sighing. “Maybe so,” he conceded, “But I can’t have our court’s emissary beating one of our citizens in broad daylight. It’s not a great look.”

“It wasn’t broad daylight,” you corrected, your attention shifting to Nyx as you untangled your hair from his iron grip, grimacing as the motion pulled at your scalp. “The sun was setting by the time we were done.”

Feyre let out another laugh, the sound powerful enough to pull a snort from her. 

“And,” you added, “It was, at most, semi-private.”

“Unbelievable,” Rhys muttered, though there was no real heat in it.

Nyx babbled again, his chubby hand reaching for your hair once more. 

“Okay, alright,” you said, straightening in your chair. The ache in your body flared as you moved, but you ignored it, your focus on Rhys. “You’re right, Rhys. I have a title and an image to uphold. I should’ve acted better. Tell me how to fix it, and I will.”

Rhys’s gaze lingered on you, as if the longer he stared at you, the easier words would come. Then he leaned back in his chair, his attention flicking to Feyre. They were in each other’s minds, you realized, talking in that way only they could. You could pick up the signs now, even subtle—a faint twitch of her lips, the softening in his gaze, even the rhythm of their blinks syncing up. 

Finally, Rhys looked back at you, then down at Nyx, who was still babbling in your lap. When his gaze returned to yours, there was a thread of warmth beneath his voice. “You’re the most, objectively, rational of us all. If you say there was reasoning, then I believe you.”

You gave him a grateful smile.

“We just have to prepare for some damage control,” Feyre said. “It’s not exactly comforting for our citizens to see three of their highest-ranking officials fighting in the streets.”

“Three?” You frowned. “What—”

You were cut off as the door creaked open. All three of you turned as Mor stepped in, a large grin on her red painted lips. She was holding something small in her hand, and when she held it up, the light caught on the all-too-familiar jewelry.

“Don’t forget. She also found these,” Mor sang as she entered fully. She tossed two bracelets into the air, catching both effortlessly before holding them up again for emphasis. “So, I think that’s enough for a pardon.”

Rhys stood, crossing the room in a few long strides as Feyre followed. He took one of the bracelets from Mor, inspecting it carefully.

“What did you find?”

“What Y/n heard was right,” Mor said, rolling the other bracelet between her fingers. “It’s a simple listening charm. Very basic.”

Rhysand hummed. “And how does it work exactly?”

“It’s an anchored spell.”

“What does that mean?” Feyre asked, frowning. “An anchor?” 

“It means the spell needs an anchor to function—a tether to keep it active and contained. Like a balloon tied to a string.” Rhys explained, his tone turning clinical. “It’s simple magic. The charm was designed to spy on whoever it was bound to.”

“And it was bound to who? Az?”

”Actually,” Mor said. She nodded towards you. “It was bound to Y/n.”

You weren’t paying full attention, not as you played a game of tug-of-war with Nyx and a strand of your hair. When the words finally hit you, you blinked, glancing between Mor and the bracelet in her hand. “What? On me?”

Mor nodded once more as Rhysand said, “Interesting.” 

”And this was in Azriels room?” Feyre asked, looking over at you. 

“One of them,” you confirmed. “The other Selene was wearing.”

Feyre’s gaze flicked to the cut across your cheek. “So she put it in Azriel’s room, but bound it to you?”

“No one tends to go into Az’s room.” Rhys frowned. “So she was only interested in conversations you were a part of.”

Of course. A bitter laugh bubbled up, but you clenched your jaw, forcing it down. You reminded yourself of what you’d seen earlier— the insecurity, rather than the malice you’d anticipated. Still, a certain annoyance lingered. Was her relationship with Azriel so fragile that she couldn’t talk to him? Were you so unapproachable that she couldn’t come to you? Instead, she planted a charm. To spy. 

”Can I see it?” You asked. 

Mor stepped forward, holding it out, and Nyx reached for it first, his tiny fingers desperately grasping at the shiny surface.

“This isn’t for you, buddy,” Mor cooed, crouching slightly. “This is Aunt Y/n’s special bracelet from her secret admirer.”

You shot her a flat look. “Secret admirer, my ass.”

Mor grinned, but her gaze flicked over you briefly, her teasing dimmed by something else—concern, maybe. Feyre stepped forward, lifting Nyx from your lap as you examined the bracelet.

“So what do we do with it now?” You glanced up at Mor.

“I can pay Helion a visit. Break the charm.” 

“Alright,” Rhys said, the word accompanied by a considering hum. “But first, let me talk to Selene and Runa—Runa was the other one, right?”

Hearing her name sent a wave of irritation coursing through you. Your grip on the bracelet tightened instinctively as you nodded, the cool metal digging into your palm. You held it out for Mor to take, watching as she then took the second one back from Rhys. He studied you for a moment, his gaze drifting to your clenched fists.

“You’re just too great,” He said with a small grin. It was very father-like in its presentation, like he was trying to cheer up a sad child. “It’s intimidating.”

You rolled your eyes, but his attempt worked— the easy cadence chipping away at the tension in your shoulders, managing to coax a reluctant smile to your lips. “So I’ve been told.”

Your attention shifted to Feyre as she rocked Nyx gently in her arms. His soft breaths had already settled into the rhythm of sleep, and something in you softened at the sight. Your smile deepened, this time warmer, more genuine. Feyre caught your gaze, then glanced at her mate.

“It’s his bedtime,” she murmured, her attention returning to you. “And maybe you could use some rest too.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but Mor cut you off, her hand already brushing against your arm. “Let’s get you cleaned up,” she said softly, though there was no room for argument in her tone.

“I’m fine,” you tried to insist, but she gave you a look, leading you out of Rhysand’s office. You gave both him and Feyre a quick goodbye. 

“Walk or winnow?” Mor asked once you were in the hall, tilting her head.

You thought it over for a brief moment. “Winnow,” you replied.

She nodded in agreement, the corners of her lips curving upwards. “Probably for the best,” she said, “Wouldn’t want you to find another citizen to fight on the way home.”

You moved to swat at her arm in mock indignation, but she was already gone, her laughter echoing faintly as she winnowed away. 

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

Mor was humming a small tune as she led you to your bedroom. She had a few more items in her hand since the last time you saw her, only a few moments prior.

“Sit,” she instructed, nodding towards your bed. Without waiting for a response, she pulled your chair from the small desk, its legs scraping sharply against the floor. Usually, you might've winced at the sound, but tonight it barely registered. You were too tired, too lost in your own thoughts to be fully aware of your surroundings. 

You lowered yourself onto the edge of your bed, hands folded in your lap, watching as Mor set her haul on your bedside table: a first-aid healers kit and a small jar with a golden lid, the faint scent of herbs already wafting from it.

“Whats that?” you asked, motioning towards it as Mor sat down.

“I stopped by Majda’s earlier,” Mor replied, grabbing the jar and offering it to you. 

You gingerly took it, running your fingers along the small glass. A healing balm, you gathered from the label, crafted and spelled to sooth the tenderness of injuries.  “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Of course I did,” she replied, fixing you with a look. She held her hand out in a silent request, and you granted it, placing the jar back in her soft palm.  “I ran into Adrin while I was there, too.”

“Oh?”

“Mhm. I think he has a crush.” 

Your brows furrowed. “On you?”

“No,” Mor laughed. “On you.” She twisted the lid off, the scent growing stronger, fresher. “This was practically free when I mentioned your name. He says hello, by the way.”

You rolled your eyes at the tone of her voice, at the small quirk in her lip.  “How generous of him.”

Adrin was one of Madja’s recent apprentices, a male from the Dawn Court. Over the past year, you’d developed a sort of friendship with him—inevitable, given how often you stopped by Madja’s for elixirs, balms, or to request healing for one of your family members. Adrin was sweet in a way that stood out, especially for someone of his stature and wealth. Humble, easy to talk to. You’d always enjoyed your small conversations with him, none of which had ever felt particularly flirtatious. 

But Mor liked to do this—tease you about romantic prospects where there were none.

“He seemed very sad to hear you were hurt,” she teased, dipping her fingers into the balm. “Here. Give me your hands.”

Reluctantly, you stretched out your hands, knuckles bruised and raw. She took them, her touch gentle as she worked the balm into your skin. It stung at first, then cooled, easing the ache. 

“He’s cute,” Mor said lightly, noting your silence.  “You should consider it.”

“Mhm,” you replied, not really listening. “Maybe.”

Mor glanced up at you, her hands pausing briefly before she resumed. “What are you thinking about?”

You shrugged and stared down at your hands, tracing the patterns of Mor’s thumbs as she smoothed over the worst of the bruising. “I don’t know. The whole thing, I guess.”

“I can’t believe you didn’t just beat them both.”

A small laugh slipped from you, unexpected. You were quite proud of how diplomatic you’d managed to be given the circumstances— though, you were sure diplomatic wasn’t the word Runa would use.

“I think,” you began, “I just figured it wasn’t worth it. At least with Selene, it wasn’t personal. There’s nothing I could’ve said to her that’d be worse than what I imagine she already tells herself. Runa just… said the wrong thing at the wrong time.”

Mor nodded with an amused smile, tilting your chin up with a finger so she could dab the balm along your jaw. On a hit you hadn’t even noticed until it started throbbing an hour later.

“Still. A listening charm is kind of insane,” she said. Her tone was measured, but you caught the edge of anger beneath it. “Can you imagine what else she could’ve heard?”

Your chest tightened. You nodded. Although not to the extent you might usually have, you had thought about it—the implications of the bracelet, the act Selene had committed, the idea Runa had planted. It was almost laughable. Your court was condemned for its supposed cruelty, led by a High Lord as infamous as Rhysand, yet citizens still felt emboldened enough to pull stunts like this. In any other court, Selene and Runa would’ve faced very different—more permanent—consequences.

“I don’t want to think about it too much,” you replied after a moment. “I’ll just get angry, and I’m kind of over that. It’s exhausting.”

“You’re better than me,” Mor muttered.

“Not really. I’m just tired.” You said simply. “Selene did a bad thing. She’s lucky it didn’t cause a serious disaster. I don’t feel the need to play the Mother’s role. Rhys will deal with her.”

Mor sat back, a faint grin tugging at her lips. “And in the meantime, I get pretty jewelry.”

You raised a brow. 

“What?” Her grin widened. “Like we told Rhys, it’s only a basic listening spell. If I’m in possession of both charms, and I’m not talking to you, then no one’s hearing anything.”

“And if you lose one?”

She raised an eyebrow, slowly twisting the cap back onto the jar. “I won’t,” she replied simply. And you knew that was the end of the conversation. Mor guided your head to the side, leaning in to inspect the cut across your cheek.

“That bitch got you good, though,” Mor muttered. She touched it gently, and you grimaced. “All this from that bracelet?”

“It was chunky,” you replied dryly. “And I think Runa split it open much further.”

Mor scowled. “If I see her, she's as good as d—”

“Mor.”

She sighed dramatically. “At least tell me you got her good.”

You gave her a look and her grin widened. “Gods, I love you,” she said, shaking her head. “You might be the most terrifying one of us all when you’re angry.”

A smile tugged at your lips, the faint pull of it brushing against the ache in your cheek. The sound of a laugh started to rise in your chest when a low voice cut through the moment.

“I would agree.”

You jumped, and your head snapped toward the doorway— where Azriel now stood. 

Your chest tightened at the sight of him, the moment’s levity collapsing under his presence. Instinctively, your eyes ran over him, taking in every detail. He looked tense, wings drawn in tight to his back, his posture stiff. Shadows hung close to him, unnervingly still. Disheveled, too—his hair was a mess and faint bruises bloomed along his face. His hands were hidden by his shadows, but you’d bet they bore the same marks as yours. Three officials, Feyre had said. You now knew the second. 

He cleared his throat. “I’m sorry to interrupt.”

Mor snickered beside you, drawing your attention just as her brows lifted in amusement. She turned away from him and faced you instead. “You hear that, Y/n? He’s sorry.”

You raised your own brows, gaze flicking back to him. “So those words do exist in your vocabulary.”

The bite didn’t feel as satisfying as it should have. It felt hollow, old. Azriel’s jaw tightened, his chest rising as he drew in a measured breath. After a moment, he stepped forward. His gaze lingered on you for another moment before he turned to Mor.

“May we have a moment alone?”

Mor’s eyes narrowed, the sharpness in her gaze dragging over him like a knife. She didn’t answer right away, looking back to you instead, searching your face for permission. Despite yourself, you gave her a small nod.

Her displeasure showed in the faint widening of her eyes, but she stood anyway, brushing her hand against yours in passing. Her touch was soft, careful not to press too hard against the bruises. “Love you,” she murmured. “Let me know if you need anything else tonight.”

You gave her a small smile, nodding again as she walked past Azriel. His shadows recoiled from her, drawing a dark outline along his arm. She casted one last glare over her shoulder.

“Idiot,” she muttered, loud enough for both of you to hear. Then she was gone.

The silence she left behind felt suffocating, a heavy thing that settled over the room. You avoided Azriel’s gaze, focusing instead on the healer’s kit sitting on the bedside table. You reached for it, but Azriel held up a hand to stop you.

“I can do it myself,” you said. 

“I know,” Az replied softly. “But let me. Please.”

You hesitated. He looked troubled, guilt heavy in his expression, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. The conversation had been inevitable, long overdue. Might as well get it over with while he tended to the cut on your cheek.

Besides, you were too exhausted to care. 

“Fine.”

Azriel gave you a small, unsure smile—grateful, almost. He disappeared to the bathroom, and when he returned, he sat with a wet rag in hand.

You tried to hold on to your anger, to avoid his eyes, but your resolve began to falter the moment his shadows began to twist around your arms. They moved languidly, curling up your wrists and brushing your fingers as you played with your hands in your lap. You focused on them instead of him— on their quiet presence, the personality in them that so few ever noticed. You’d missed the way they felt like him.

Azriel began unpacking the kit—clean cloths, antiseptic. The smell made your nose scrunch. You took in the bruising on his face—on his cheek, a split near his eyebrow, even on his lip. Strange, strategically unplaced.

“What happened to you?” you asked before you could stop yourself.

“Cassian happened.”

And there it was— the third official. You wanted to probe for more details, were even tempted to make a joke out of his current appearance, but your irritation held you back. You stayed silent as he cleaned the wound, as he dried it. When he soaked another cloth with antiseptic, he looked at you.

“I owe you a big, proper apology.” 

You didn’t look at him, even as his words pulled at you. “Yeah.”

He paused— like he was thinking, like he was ashamed— and took a deep breath before he said, “Many, actually.”

You didn’t respond. You just nodded, watching him from the corner of your eye. When the cloth touched your cheek, you winced. He grimaced, eyebrows furrowing in apology.

“Sorry,” he murmured. 

Another pause. 

“You were right,” he said, his focus staying on your cheek. “And I should have listened to you.”

This time, the pull of his voice was strong enough to draw your attention. As he leaned closer to begin cleaning the cut, you studied his face—the sharp line of his jaw, the crease in his brow as he worked with precision. 

“I’m always right,” you muttered, and the words had more mirth than you’d expected. You supposed that was natural with Azriel, an instinct of sorts. Even when you were unhappy with him. “You’re going to have to be specific.”

Something softened in his expression—just for a second. But you saw it. You could’ve sworn you saw the faintest hint of a smile tug at his lips, heard a soft breath of amusement. His molten eyes met yours briefly.

“You were right about Selene.”

Your chest tightened. You didn’t know why, but his gaze burned. You couldn’t hold it for long and looked back down at your hands, letting the shadows weave between your fingers. You wondered what information Az knew— wondered who told him. If it was Mor who had talked to Cassian, if it was Cassian who then, in turn, had given Azriel the whole story. Had they fought beforehand? What for?

“I broke up with her,” Azriel added. “When I heard about what happened.”

You looked up, but Az’s gaze was no longer on you. “You did?”

He nodded. You tracked the bob in his throat as he swallowed. 

“There’s no coming back from what she did.”

Azriel set the cloth aside, carefully wiping away the excess antiseptic. He seemed unnervingly calm for the situation—for the invasion of privacy from someone he’d been intimate with. You’d expected something more. Anger like you’d seen with Eris, confrontation like he’d shown Lucien. But, instead, he was gentle. Maybe it should’ve bothered you, that he seemed so unphased at your current state. It didn’t. If anything, you were grateful. You would’ve been too tired to deal with anything else. 

You studied him closely. This side of him—tender, unguarded—wasn’t a side he let many see.

Your thoughts wandered back to Selene. It made sense, in a pathetic, strange way, why she might have done what she did. If she’d seen this side of him, this kindness, this care... how could she not have wanted to protect it? How could she not have gone to extremes to keep it?

You thought about it for a moment. Came to the realization that the love Azriel offered was probably worthy of madness.

“Because she spied on you?” 

It was a stupid question. But the urge to ask had persisted, so you voiced it anyway. Azriel stilled, his hand pausing mid-motion. Slowly, he turned to look at you.

“No,” he said, his voice softer. “Because she hurt you.”

His words landed with a force that sent your thoughts spiraling.

“Although,” Azriel added quickly, “The spying was definitely a dealbreaker.”

He was making a joke, you realized. Or a small attempt at one. And somehow, it settled something restless in your chest.

“She didn’t mean to,” you heard yourself say before you could stop it. 

The moment the words left your mouth, you cursed yourself. What the hell were you doing? You had no obligation. No reason. It was counterproductive, if anything. Rhys was bringing her in. You had every right to trash her, right here, to Azriel himself. To tell him over and over that you told him so.

But you didn’t. Maybe it was because she’d mattered to him—enough for him to trust her despite the flaws that had undone her. Even if that truth made your chest ache, you wanted him to make his decision with all the facts.

Your care for Azriel wasn’t something led by your pride.

“Selene didn’t mean to hurt me,” you said again, more certain this time. “It was an accident.”

His eyes softened as he observed you. You swallowed and shrugged. “Runa was the one who actually did.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Azriel said. “You were in that situation because of Selene.”

A beat.

“Because of me.”

The air between you thickened. You tried to focus on anything else, anything but the way your chest tightened, the way your heart thudded faster than it should. But you couldn’t. Your eyes stayed locked with his.

You thought about the past week, how something had shifted between you. The distance that had grown, how long it had taken him to reach out.  Azriel was someone who didn’t apologize easily. You knew that. But it hurt in ways you didn’t expect because you’d always thought you were different. That your friendship, your bond, was worth the discomfort. 

You thought he’d make it right. That he wouldn't have let it fester for as long as he did, wouldn’t have felt comfortable leaving you simmering in your hurt. 

“Az?”

The name escaped your lips unguarded, and his face softened at the sound of it. His wings shifted too, just slightly, like tension bleeding out. You hadn’t said his name like that—without anger, without bitterness—for days.

“Yeah?”

“Why didn’t you actually apologize earlier?”

Azriel’s jaw tightened, and his gaze flicked down, as if the answer was there, somewhere in the floor. “I—I didn’t know how.”

You let out a breath—annoyance, defeat, something too messy to untangle. “It’s actually really easy,” you muttered. “You just open your mouth and say the words ‘I’m sorry for being a dick.’”

There was a soft shuffle as Azriel leaned forward, placing his elbows on his knees. He tilted his head, trying to meet your averted gaze.

“Y/n,” he said softly. “I’m sorry for being a dick.”

You let the words settle for a moment before sitting up straighter. Met his eyes once more. You raised a brow, unimpressed. “A bit late, don’t you think?”

Azriel didn’t move, his eyes meeting yours steadily. He was closer now—close enough that you could almost feel his presence like a tangible, heavy thing. His shadows stirred, curling around your fingers, then shifting toward his hand. They tangled between you both, like they were tying you together, threading through the space that separated you.

“It is,” Azriel said. He looked down the second his words hit the open air. It reminded you of repentance, like a sinner confessing to a priestess. His hands rubbed together before he clasped them into a fist, looking up again.

Even then, his thumbs kept moving, brushing over each other in a way that gave him away. He was nervous.

“I messed up,” he said. “I knew I did the minute I repeated what Selene told me. But I’d messed up so badly that I felt like an apology needed to be big enough to make up for it. I couldn’t think of anything.” He took a shallow breath. “I—I was embarrassed.”

You frowned.  For Azriel, who stood in front of you, unwavering in the face of so many enemies, embarrassment seemed almost foreign.

“Embarrassed?”

“Yes.” His voice was quiet as he admitted it.

“What could you possibly have to be embarrassed about?”

Azriel’s face shifted, his eyes looking almost vulnerable, wide open, like you could see everything. Even his shadows slowed to a faint crawl. They seemed to be waiting for something. You weren’t sure what.

“That you were right. I was changing. For her. And I did it on my own.”

“What?” You barely breathed out, confused. “Why?”

“I just…” He hesitated, his eyes lowering. “I thought it might be for the better. That maybe this relationship, maybe Selene, could mold me into something else, something more…” He trailed off.

“More what?”

“Something—someone, more easy to love.”

Your breath faltered, and for a second, everything froze— like the sheer sadness in his voice was enough to freeze time. And then you were flooded with emotions, each different from the one that came before. Confusion. Anger. Pity. Heartbreak. You felt a deep, hollow ache at the idea that he truly believed he needed to change to be loved. 

For the first time, you weren’t sure what the right thing to say was. If there was one at all. All you could do, in the most genuine tone you could muster, was say, “That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.”

Azriel’s gaze faltered, his expression shifting as though he wasn’t quite sure how to process your reaction. You glanced at his hands, pushing the rush of emotions back, then met his eyes again.

“You should never feel like you need to change. Not like that.”

For a moment, he didn’t say anything, but his eyes softened, and you found yourself focusing on the crease between his brows. It made him look so tender. So young.

Finally, he spoke again. “I was having a bad day that night you came to talk to me. I didn’t realize how I’d hurt you. I thought I just pissed you off, that you were angry.”

“Well, you did piss me off,” you said, your anger bubbling up once more. His expression faltered slightly at that, but you continued, “I’m still angry. You were dismissive. You made me feel selfish, like I didn’t have the right to care about you.”

The words caught in your throat, threatening to stick, but you pushed them out. You’d spent centuries enduring criticism from males in Prythian politics—males who dismissed your input no matter how educated or experienced you were. You knew how to let their opinions roll off your back, not to let them settle. But you never thought Azriel would be the one to hurt you. Make you feel silly. Stupid. Small.

Azriel’s jaw tightened, and his eyes darted away as if he was trying to find the right words. “It was all so stupid. I can’t believe I entertained her ideas—that I let my desire to be needed make me accuse you of having ulterior motives when you were just being a good friend.”

A good friend.

That was exactly what you were trying to be—and yet, the word hurt you. It made you want to wince like you had when Azriel pressed that rag to your cut. You thought back, unwanted, to Selene’s words, and your chest tightened even more. 

Was it possible for the room to be losing air? Maybe that would explain the stupid decisions you’d been making. The thoughts you could feel in the back of your mind. A lack of oxygen to your brain.

“So why did you believe her?” you asked quietly. Your voice sounded more tired now. 

“I don’t know,” he admitted after a long pause. “It doesn’t change what I did. It was cruel. It belittled you. And I’m sorry.”

You stared at him, at the set of his shoulders, the faint downturn of his mouth. He was sincere—you could feel it in every word, in the way his eyes stayed fixed on you, like nothing else existed in the room. You didn’t think you’d ever had someone apologize like this before, so open and raw.

And yet, something inside you still simmered. The anger hadn’t disappeared. Not yet.

“Thank you,” you murmured, “For apologizing.”

Azriel didn’t move. He kept looking at you, really looking at you, and you felt pinned beneath the weight of his gaze. His eyes had more green than Cassian’s. It wasn’t something you usually noticed—how the colors shifted in the light, how clear and startling they seemed up close. Now, though, you couldn’t seem to stop noticing, like every detail of him was suddenly magnified.

You wanted to stay angry. You deserved to. He’d hurt you, and that kind of hurt didn’t just disappear because he finally decided to show up and say the right things. But then his gaze held yours a little too long, his voice a little too raw, and that tightrope you’d built for yourself began to fray.  A sharp sting of guilt came, and you couldn’t shake it—couldn’t shake the growing realization that maybe you didn’t want to be angry at him. Maybe it wasn’t even anger anymore.

You cleared your throat as Azriel shifted his attention back to the kit, his shadows curling and shifting behind him. He grabbed a few butterfly bandages, his voice quiet when he spoke.

“You’re better to me than I deserve,” he said, almost to himself. “I think I convinced myself that it was a matter of time until the ball dropped—until you realized I wasn’t worth this friendship. I thought I’d finally reached that point. I almost just laid down and accepted it.”

You frowned at his words. 

Azriel always carried that shadow of self-loathing like a second skin, like he couldn’t believe anyone could see him as more than his darkest thoughts. As much as you wanted to heal him, to assure him that none of it was true, you knew better. It hurt to know that, after everything, he still didn’t believe it. Because, the truth was, Azriel wasn’t hard to love. It wasn’t hard to support him, to be his friend. He had his moments, as anyone did, but he was always there. Which, you supposed, is why the way he treated you hurt in such a deep, unique way.

The thought that he’d believed, deep down, that your friendship—your loyalty—could be so easily withdrawn, made something inside you ache. Made you sad. Angry. 

“I take back what I said earlier,” you murmured. “That is the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.”

Azriel’s lips twitched as he searched your face for any hint of a joke. His shadows perched on the apex of his wings, watching you both. Then, when his lips curled, just slightly, they began to move once more. 

“I have my moments,” Azriel said, a half-smile playing at the corner of his lips. He glanced at you, checking if it landed.  “Maybe one too many head injuries is getting to me.”

“Maybe,” you said, the hint of a smile brushing your lips. “In that case, we should keep an eye on Cassian.”

Azriel’s breath escaped in a quiet, almost relieved laugh.  He carefully removed the butterfly bandages from their small packs, the silence settling around you once more. But the air felt heavy, like there was something unspoken hanging between you. Like you needed to say something to rid yourself of the pressure in your chest. 

“You can’t just lay down and accept it, Az,” you said, your voice firm. His eyes snapped to yours. “That’s not what friendship is. Not ours.”

Azriel nodded, his expression softening. “I know. I’ll do better.” 

You smiled faintly, nodding back. Watching as he turned his attention back to the bandages on your cheek, you took a slow breath. His scent washed over you as he leaned in, familiar and warm. For a moment, you almost let yourself close your eyes, just to breathe him in further, to let his scent linger. Had it always been like this? Or had Selene’s words made you overanalyze everything?

“I was shocked when Cassian told me what happened. I can’t believe that while I was busy kicking myself for not doing anything, you were trying to talk to Selene. Trying to be kind. Do you realize how crazy that is?”

His words weren’t disbelief—they were awe. As if he couldn’t comprehend why you’d chosen the harder path, the path of peace. You could barely believe it yourself, sitting with a scratched-up face and a mind full of unwanted revelations. But in the end, it had been simple. 

You’d done it for Azriel. 

You’d found sympathy for her because of Azriel. You’d set aside your anger, your pettiness, because you valued your relationship with Azriel more. Even after everything, after the way he’d treated you, you still believed in him. Believed in his ability to know what he wanted.

“Your happiness was worth it,” you said finally. “I didn’t want to be the one to stand in the way of it. To make things hard.”

Azriel stopped at that, his gaze locking onto yours with an intensity that made you feel exposed in a way you’d never felt before with him. You shrugged it off, trying to play it cool, and added with a dry chuckle, “Also, I figured if I did the noble thing, I’d get to hold it over you for a few centuries.”

Azriel laughed—a genuine, rumbling sound. His shadows fluttered around him. “Yeah, well, you can. More than a few centuries, actually, because you came out with some battle scars.”

You almost spoke again, but the breath left your lungs as you felt his fingers gently press the butterfly bandages to your skin. It was almost funny to think about how angry you’d been—rightfully so. But now, with the feel of his hands on you, it all began to ease. A specific sense of healing, like the betrayal you’d felt—at least in part—was being mended. That Azriel tending to you now, with the soft touch he so rarely granted, proved that he didn’t mean to hurt you. That he did care. And maybe you could give him a little grace for being a flawed male.

When Azriel turned back to the kit, you touched your cheek, feeling the cut deeper than you expected. You hadn’t realized how long it was. Mor’s earlier reaction made more sense now.

Azriel glanced at the wound, then back at you, brow furrowing. “Is it okay?”

You nodded slowly, a soft breath escaping as you winced slightly. “Yeah, just tender. Thank you.”

He nodded in acknowledgment and moved to place the last bandage. And then, almost too quietly, he murmured, “I’m sorry I hurt you. I really am.”

“I know.” You hesitated before adding, “But you’re going to have to make it up to me. You know that, right? This wasn’t enough.”

Azriel steadied his gaze on you, leaning back to face you fully. Suddenly, you weren’t sure if anyone had ever looked at you properly. Not like this. Not as he said, “I will. I promise. In ways that are better than some baked goods.”

“Well… I wouldn’t mind some croissants. They looked good.”

Azriel chuckled. “Oh really?”

Soft tendrils of his shadows weaved around you as you nodded, biting back a smile at the tone of his voice. Something so lively. So Azriel. Although you were used to them, you resisted the urge to shiver as his shadows threaded through the ends of your hair. 

“That’s odd,” he said. “I seem to recall them looking untouched. Some even squished.”

The memory of how you’d grabbed the pastry in frustration, squeezing it in your hand, brought a small smirk to your face. You shrugged a little. “I was pissed. I couldn’t give in.”

“In that case, I’ll buy out the whole bakery.”

You rolled your eyes, but the hint of a smile was still there. It was probably obvious to Azriel.  “The Spymaster supporting local businesses by single-handedly buying out a local bakery. How noble.”

He smiled at that, his expression lighter now—boyish, amused. But his words were sincere. “Whatever you need me to do. I’ll do it.”

“And if I told you to swim naked in the Sidra at night, when it’s cold and snowy?”

“I’d ask Rhysand to make an order for all the children to stay inside.”

You laughed at the thought, and the atmosphere shifted. For the first time in a while, it felt like the world had stopped turning its back on you. The anger, the grudge you’d been cradling like a newborn babe, didn’t feel so heavy now. 

Azriel stood, folding the bandages and packing away the medical supplies, and you found yourself watching him without meaning to once more. You couldn’t help but notice how effortlessly… beautiful he was. There was something in the angle of his jaw, the way the light caught his features that made your breath suddenly catch. He was always handsome, of course, but this was different. 

A sudden wave of curiosity bubbled up inside you. Before you could second-guess yourself, you spoke.  You’d never noticed the sharpness of his eyes, the intensity in them, the way his wings twitched when his shadows curled against them.

“Can I ask you something?” 

He paused, looking down at you with that soft gaze. “Always.”

“Why did you want to change into someone more loveable? Why stay with Selene?”

Azriel’s eyes flickered away, his gaze dropping to the floor. “I… I think I was jealous.”

“Jealous?”

Azriel nodded. Something sad washed through him, made him blink, made his wings fall an inch closer to the ground. “Everyone around us is finding love. They’re starting new lives.”

Something sharp jabbed at you, a bitter feeling you didn’t quite understand. Was there something wrong with you for not feeling the same need to fall in love?

“I’m not,” you said. 

The expression that took over Azriel’s face was one you couldn’t describe, but there was a new kind of weariness in it. His lips parted as though to say something else, but instead, he simply shook his head with a small, wistful smile. “It’s only a matter of time, Y/n.”

You blinked. “What does that mean?”

“It means you’re you. You’re amazing. It’s only a matter of time until you fall for one of your many suitors.”

You furrowed your brow, a bitter taste now settling on your tongue. You didn’t respond— didn’t know how to.

Azriel’s eyes darkened for a brief moment, his jaw tightening, but then his face softened. He exhaled slowly. When he spoke, his voice was quieter than before. “I didn’t think I could handle being alone when you moved on, too.”

The way he said it, the weight of it, made something ache inside you, like a deep hollow was opening up in your chest. You swallowed hard, wishing for something—anything—to ease the growing pressure behind your ribcage.

You wanted him to tell you more, to say something that would make sense of all this. But you didn’t know how to ask for that, didn’t even know what you wanted him to say. 

“Because you don’t want to be the last one standing?”

The silence that followed was almost suffocating. Azriel’s shadows seemed to quiet around you both.

Then, he gave you a half-smile—sad, lopsided, but somehow more real than anything he’d shown you in a long time. Not for months. Not since he began dating Selene. 

“Something like that.”

Before you could dwell on his words, on why they made you feel sad, disappointed even, Azriel finished packing up the kit and turned toward you.

“All done,” he said.

You blinked, pulled out of your thoughts, and nodded. “Oh. Cool. Thank you.”

You looked down at your hands, your fingers brushing over the growing bruises on your knuckles. Your hair fell forward, partially hiding your face, and before you could move it out of the way, one of Azriel’s shadows darted forward, tugging at the strand. You glanced up as he gently called the shadow back with a subtle motion. 

“So... how do I look?” 

Azriel's eyes flicked over you, the corner of his mouth quirking up as he reached forward, his hand brushing that same strand of hair from your face.

“Tough,” he said, slowly moving the strand back. “I think the bandages really bring out your eyes.”

And even though he’d done it a million times before, as Azriel tucked your hair behind your ear, something inside you cracked right open.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

authors note:

tending to wounds scene!!! tending to wounds scene!! mor has both bracelets??!? az and selene are done?!?! he's being weirdly calm abt the whole thing?!?! reader is THINKINNN...

now begins the fun time of reader wanting to let az grovel (bc he has entered his groveling era) but also overthinking everything and wanting him to just....go away. also fun time of reader having to prove to everyone that despite things she may...or may not... feel, her intentions with Az were neverr driven jealousy hehe

so fun!!! i have some fun ideas guys. thank yall for reading <3 i wonder if you can guess what might happen.... there are a few hints

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@marina468 @azriels-human @book-obsessed124 @bubybubsters @starswholistenanddreamsanswered 

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[everythingspokenfor]

All characters are aged up 18+. MDNI.

━─━─━─━─━─━─━─━─━

You knew this was a possibility, that's why you took extra precautions, tied the strings so well that you were sure you'll have to cut them at the end of the day. But here you were, contemplating how on earth did this happen...

Mina had finally pulled the entire group into going on a vacation, choosing one of the Okinawa beaches, all of you packed up and came to the private penthouse. The vacation was long overdue, everyone too excited to chill out and relax.

It was all good, friends chilling out eating, drinking and finally relaxing after months of tedious hero work.

You were thoroughly enjoying yourself, even if you had to deal with him. Bakugou and you had a sort of love hate relationship, constantly fighting but still having each other's back. Friends constantly commenting about the thick sexual tension between you both, which left you yelling at them, they weren't wrong tho, not that you would admit outloud.

"Move, Sugar." Bakugou rasps out, hand holding a can of beer, he was shirtless, wet swim trunks sticking to him thighs, tan lines clearly visible on his legs, he was still glossy from playing in the water. Had you hated him any lesser, you would have licked the water off him, alas that thought is something to be revisited in darker hours of the night.

"Go around the towel, dipshit", You retort, going back to lathering yourself up with sunscreen, he snorts, before stepping on your fucking towel and going along.

"Asshole!" You yell at him, whole he continues to laugh at your face. You took in deep breaths, this fucker isn't going to ruin your vacation.

You got back to your sunscreen, before reapplying you lip gloss, you put too much effort into your appearance today. It was a deep maroon two piece, the bottoms had a fabric around it making it seem like a mini skirt, while the top was tied with strings.

As much as you loved the bikini, the top was making you nervous, you had taken every measure to prevent the strings from untying, even kept a spear towel, having heard too many stories of women losing their bikinis in the sea making you paranoid. It was probably also why you hadn't ventured into the ocean yet.

"Gurll- you lookin' cute there." Mina walked up to you, handing you a bright blue concoction, you grinned at her before downing the drink.

"Thanks, babes." You giggled, cheekily winking at her.

"What aren't you getting into waters tho? The weather is pleasant too." She queried, leaning in to steal your gloss. "I am gonna go, just applied sunscreen." You dusted your hands, as you stood up, Mina finished putting on the gloss, tossing the tube in your bag before both of you raced into the waters.

The boys, Kaminari, Kirishima and Sero welcomed you both in with splashes, playing around in waters lasted for a bit, after multiple rounds of chicken fight, Kirishima called Bakugou, asking him to join in.

"Ain't interested in yer shitty games." He yelled back, didn't bother looking at the group.

"Scared you'll lose," Sero provoked him, knowing that with right words he can get Bakugou to do anything.

"Fuck did ya' say?" He grits out, before standing up and charge towards your group, all of you scream before swimming in different directions, trying to not be his first victim.

Adrenaline pumped through your vessels, as you swam to furthest end of the shore, leaning against the big rocks keeping you hidden from the main shore. Breathing hard, you placed a hand on your chest, trying to slow the beating of your heart. Only to come to a horrible realisation that you weren't wearing your bikini top.

You were bare from waist above, frantically you tried looking for you top, hoping to find a maroon cloth lying somewhere, unfortunately you couldn't see anything that could vaguely resemble your bikini.

Panic set in when you realised that from this end of the shore, you can't even go to your spot on the beach, chance of grabbing your towel without being seen by your friends were too thin.

"Caught you!" Bakugou roars as he swims around the rocks, only to be stopped as you let out a yell, turning away from him.

"Stay there, Bakugou!" You barely even stay afloat, hairs shielding your back, while hands crossing over your chest.

"What? You suddenly don't want to play, when I catch you?" He rasps out, slightly curious as to why you wouldn't even turn to face him.

"It's not that." You let out a sigh, contemplating whether it's a good idea or not to ask Bakugou for help, he could potentially swin back and get you a towel.

"What is it then, Sugars?" He is much closer now, you can almost feel him behind you. "My top is lost." You whined out, praying he helps you.

"Sorry, what?!"

"My bikini top is lost, it untied while swimming." You whisper-yell at him, giving him a stink eye over your shoulder. He doesn't reply, instead it goes too quite, you slowly peek over your shoulder, only to lock eyes at Bakugou who is already looking at you.

Infact he was looking slightly below, as if checking whether or not you had the top. "Fucking pervert, I'll beat your ass!" Had your hands not been busy you would have whacked him.

"I am not a fucking pervert, I was thinking."

"Had you thought longer, you would have popped a boner."

"You want my help or not."

You went silent at that, of course you needed his help, especially if you didn't want to flash your friends.

"That's what I thought." He speaks at your silence, his voice a little too smug, "you got spear clothes here?" He queried, swimming back a little to look at your bag by the beach.

"I have a towel in there, it's big enough for me." You answer him over your shoulder, he wasn't looking at you anymore instead he was turned away mostly, head slightly tilted so he could hear you.

"Stay put, I'll get it," he almost start swimming before he turns towards you and says "Try not loosing the bottoms, in the meantime." And off he goes.

You knew just from that comment, he isn't going to let you live it down, you are sure he'll probably end up changing your name to some stupid shit constantly reminding you of today, but at least he is helping.

Everybody had already gone inside, letting Bakugou get you, when he reached where your towel had been laid out, he looked for your bag, not wanting to snoop too much, he got to work, quickly looking into the back to realise that there wasn't any towels in it. For a moment he wondered whether he should gather up your sand towel but decided against it.

He quickly jogged over to his spot at the beach, and grabbed the t-shirt he was wearing earlier, getting back into the ocean, he swam towards the rocks where you were hidden.

"Oi! There wasn't any towels, got you a t-shirt tho." He stretches an arm towards you, wet t-shirt in his fist.

"I had one, tho." You look at him in confusion, submerged neck deep into the ocean, hands crossed tightly. You were facing him slightly, eyes looking that clothe, you unwrapped one arm, from around yourself and reached for it, Bakugou averted his gaze, further stretching out his hand so you could reach it.

He moved a little closer, eyes still looking away, arms spread to make sure nobody can see you, even if it a private area of the beach.

You put the shirt on, feeling a little less exposed, turning around to fully face Bakugou, "Thank you, I suppose." You sheepishly scratch the back of your head, assuming the interaction is over and you'll both head back in.

"First of all☝🏻'you suppose?' and secondly you owe me more than a thank you."

He spits out, crossing his arms, and jutting out his hips. You eyes immediately drifted to his tits pecs that had become extenuated, before immediately locking eyes with his.

"Fucking pervert," He mimicked your earlier words.

"I am not! What do you want, Bakugou?" You exasperated, sighing dramatically, crossing your arms as well.

He moved towards you, arms unfolding to sway by his side, "Be nice, Sugar."

You scoff, eyes squinting at him suspiciously, more than aware of how close he was to you. He leans in clear, backing you against the rocks, leaning towards one side, leaving ample space for you to move away from him if you wanted.

He was close enough you could feel his minty breath onto your face, he locked eyes with you before leaning in, instinctively you closed your eyes, head tilting as your hands came to rest on his chest.

The kiss was taking a bit too long, peeking with one eye, you realised Baking was staring at you with s grin on his face.

"You asshole!!" You yelled at him, pushing at his chest, trying to move away from him, he was cackling, hands still grasping at your wrists, not letting you move away from him.

"Sorry, sorry." He wheezed out, pulling you towards him,"Oi, I am sorry, listen Sugars."

You didn't care tho, too tired to be dealing with his shenanigans, he was determined tho, pulled at your wrists, turning to glare at him, you were surprised by feeling of his lips against yours.

You stood there limp, Bakugou taking the lead for you, one arm around your waist other tilting your head to the side, deepening the kiss. You slowly brought you hands around his neck, fingers coming to run through his blonde hairs.

You pull away breaths heavy, he continues kissing down your jaw, leaving behind love bites for you to later press into.

He comes back up, pressing his forehead against yours, "So, how 'bout I take you out, Sugars?"

━─━─━─━─━─━─━─━─━

[meadowfics]

cryptic

kang dae-ho x f!reader

one of the scariest things happens to you after leaving the games

warnings: cryptic pregnancy, near death, at the time I am writing this season 3 is not out yet, angst, comfort at the end

when you entered the squid games, the last person you expected to see was dae-ho.

your heart nearly stopped when you spotted him in the crowd for the six-legged pentathlon.

you had to take a double take before starting the race with your group..

yup, there he was...broad shoulders, haunted eyes, and that same furrow in his brow you used to know so well.

he froze when he saw you up there ready to play with your own group, his lips parting in disbelief, but the guards didn’t give either of you time to process it.

the game began, and survival instincts took over.

you had the fastest group, luckily.

you completed the jegi game and ran to the finish line as everyone cheered for your group.

however, your ears tuned out everyone except for dae-ho, who made sure that you witnessed his support.

waiting for his group to come back to the dorms was torture for you.

its been nearly six-months since the last time you saw your ex-boyfriend.. however, you still loved him.

he broke up with you, and you had an idea as to why.

he felt like you deserved better, in terms of finding someone who had a bit more masculinity.

you never wanted that, or anyone else.. you always wanted your dae-ho.

a glimpse of relief was caught in your eyes when his group, the last group, entered the dorms.

he spotted you and gave you a light smile, before he turned away, retreating back to his group.

you wanted to talk to him, but what could you possibly say?

throughout the night, the exhaustion that settled over you wasn’t just from the constant fear of death but from the hunger you couldn’t shake away.

those pitiful trays of food barely sustained you, and your body craved more.

you kept with your group you had in the six-legged pentathlon..

when someone in your group couldn’t stomach their meal, you always took it, masking your desperation with a lighthearted

“don’t want it to go to waste.”

deep down, you hated that you were lying, but survival had its price.

dae-ho was always watching you, even when you weren’t aware of it.

he kept his distance, knowing how complicated things were between you two, but his protective instincts never faltered.

when you almost stumbled into danger during one of the nightly fights that broke out.. he was the one who grabbed your arm.

he pulled you to safety underneath his bunk before you could get hurt.

dae-ho didn’t say much, just a light, “stay alert, don't play any heroics,” before disappearing again.

the rebellion with the guards was a turning point.

the chaos had triggered dae-ho’s ptsd, and he was trembling, muttering under his breath about orders and mistakes.

when you witnessed him dropping the jacket full of gun magazines, you jumped up from your bunk bed to jog over to him.

007 nearly did too, but you stopped him.

"I got it.. ju- just stay with your mother."

approaching dae-ho, it broke your heart to see him like that because it reminded you why he left you in the first place.

the reason for the breakup is because he thought his brokenness from the marines would be too much for you to handle.

he pushed you away before you even knew how to help.

this time, you refused to let him spiral alone.

“dae-ho, look at me,” you said softly.

you tapped on his knee while rubbing his elbow softly, some physical reassurance while his ears were blocked by his strong hands.

“you’re not in the marines right now. you’re here, on this bed.. with me..."

you mumbled...

the man flinched hearing you, which caused you to nearly flinch as well.

did he think that you were going to hit him??

"we’re going to get through this, but you need to come back to me, okay?”

it took a long moment, even after hyun-ju came back, but your voice reached him.

after a while, his breathing steadied.

the next games were brutal. human chess left you rattled, knowing how easily a single wrong move would’ve ended you.

during the monkey bars game, you thought you were done for. every muscle in your body screamed, and it felt like your arms were going to give out at any second.

as a teenager, you had superior upper body strength.. whats so different now?

your arms were shaking for those last few bars, but at least you are alive.

when you collapsed on the other side, you were still shaking.

dae-ho was there in an instant, crouching beside you and muttering something you barely caught.

“its okay, you're okay, you made it. I'm here,"

it was a miracle that both you and dae-ho made it to the end.

his group—jun-hee, myung-gi, hyun-ju, and gi-hun—were all battered but alive.

you were the sole survivor from your group, most of them dying during dongdaemun.. and the weight of that loss lingered heavy in your chest.

when the games finally ended, and the guards began preparing to release you, dae-ho pulled you aside. his hands were rough but gentle as they grasped yours, his voice low and urgent.

“i didn’t think i’d survive this, let alone see you again. but we did, and i… i want to fix things. if you’ll let me.”

his words hit you like a wave, and you knew there was no denying the truth anymore. despite everything, you still loved him. you missed him. you wanted him back in your life.

“okay, we can fix this--”

you said softly, your voice cracking.

"but dae-ho.... why did you leave?"

you nearly cried, thinking about the last time you saw dae-ho before now.

the way he left your apartment, the way you could not eat for days, you wanted to make sure that something like that did not occur again with him.

"it was not you, like I said-- I thought you deserved better than me.. someone who was stronger than me."

the man frowned.

you placed your hand on his strong bicep, just on top of his marine tattoo.. your other hand went to his face.

"dae-ho, you're the strongest man I know. even if that wasn't the case, I do not want anyone else.. ever! I just want you."

you say.

at this point, the guards start taking everyone away to go back home.

“meet me at our cafe spot in seoul on november 16th!!!"

the last thing you remembered was the sound of his voice before the guards released the gas that knocked you out.

the impact of hitting the pavement still lingered in your body as you woke up, tied up, and blindfolded.

the cold concrete under you only added to the disorientation, and your heart pounded as you tried to make sense of what was happening.

all you could see is black.

then, a voice...soft and filled with concern...called out.

“oh my god, are you okay? hold on, let me help you.”

the blindfold was pulled away, and you blinked against the sudden light.

the woman in front of you had a kind face, her brows furrowed in worry as she quickly untied the ropes around your wrists.

“who did this to you?”

“i…” you paused, swallowing the lump in your throat.

“thank you. i don’t even know.”

"do you want me to call the police for you?"

"oh no, its okay do not worry about that!"

she helped you sit up, her hands hovering as if afraid you might collapse again.

“what’s your name?”

your mind raced, but you dodged the question.

“what’s today’s date?”

her expression shifted to confusion.

“it’s november 7th.”

november 7th. you exhaled deeply, relief and anxiety warring within you. nine days until november 16th.

nine days until you’d see dae-ho again. far too long, but at least you knew where to be.

time in the games had been meaningless, stretched and warped in the absence of phones and clocks.

as you stood up, you glanced down at yourself.

your old clothes were back...a black windbreaker jacket, green cargo pants, a black shirt, and your worn out adidas sambas.

it was strange to be out of the green tracksuit you had grown accustomed to, the one that labeled you as player 399.

instinctively, you reached into your pockets and felt something solid.

pulling it out, you saw a golden debit card. you stared at it, baffled, knowing it hadn’t been yours before the games. with shaking hands, you excused yourself.

“okay.. well i’m fine, really. thank you for helping me. i just… i need a moment.”

the woman hesitated, clearly unsure about leaving you alone.

“are you sure? you don’t look fine.”

“i’ll be okay,” you insisted, forcing a smile.

“thank you again.”

only six steps away, an atm caught your eye. you slid the card into the machine, your hands trembling.

the screen loaded, and when the balance appeared, your breath hitched. 11,398,890,025.33 won.

its the money you won in the games, split between the survivors..

before you could process the shock, a sharp pain shot through your stomach.

it felt like a punch, but there was no one there.

the pain grew worse, twisting and radiating until you doubled over.

“ahhh!” you yelped, clutching your stomach as the cramps intensified.

your knees buckled, and you collapsed, gasping for air while clenching your teeth.

the woman hadn’t gone far and came running back at the sound of your cries.

“hey! what’s wrong? oh my god, are you okay?!”

she knelt beside you, her panic rising as she saw the state you were in.

“i don’t know,” you choked out, tears welling up as the pain overwhelmed you.

“it hurts—my stomach—”

“okay, okay, stay with me. breathe! i’m calling an ambulance.” she pulled out her phone, her voice trembling as she gave the dispatcher your location.

“hang in there, okay? help is on the way.”

the pain was unbearable, and your vision blurred, the edges going dark as you struggled to stay conscious.

the faint sound of the woman’s voice and the distant wail of approaching sirens were the last things you heard before everything went black.

waking up, you felt a strange tightness around your stomach and a dull ache in your body.

the beeping of machines surrounded you, and cords were attached to your belly. you blinked, your heart racing as you noticed an iv in your arm.

panic set in when you realized your clothes were gone.

sitting up too fast, you scanned the room. relief washed over you when you spotted your jacket draped over a chair.

the golden debit card was still tucked in its pocket. you exhaled shakily, clutching the fabric for reassurance.

the door creaked open, and a doctor entered..a woman with a kind face and a soft smile.

“hello! I love to see that you’re awake. that’s good,” she said gently.

“please, lay back down. you need to rest.”

reluctantly, you complied, your mind still racing.

“what happened? why am i here?”

the doctor grabbed a clipboard, jotting something down before meeting your eyes.

“i need to ask you a few questions first by obligation... how have you been feeling lately? any nausea, fatigue, or changes in appetite?”

you frowned, her questions making no sense.

“i don’t know… i thought it was just stress. why are you asking me this?”

her expression softened, and she set the clipboard aside.

“miss. l/n… you’re in labor.”

the words hit you like a freight train.

“what?!” you gasped, sitting up again, ignoring the ache in your body.

your hands instinctively flew to your stomach.

“that’s not possible. i didn’t even know i was… i mean… i can’t be pregnant!”

the doctor gave you a reassuring look.

“your bloodwork confirms it, and you’re already in active labor. you didn’t notice the signs?”

you stared at her, your mind spiraling. sure, you had a small bump, but you chalked it up to overeating during the games.

you never connected it to something like this.

“you’re 36 weeks along,” she continued gently.

“it’s a bit early, but your baby seems strong. we’ll monitor you both closely since you haven’t had prenatal care. it’s a girl, by the way.”

the revelation stole the air from your lungs. a girl. you were carrying a child...a child you hadn’t even known existed.

your heart pounded as reality crashed down on you.

“oh my god,” you whispered, tears welling up.

the doctor reached out, her tone soothing.

“is the baby’s father here? do you want us to call him?”

you shook your head, panic rising.

“i don’t know how to contact him. i don’t even have a phone.”

“that’s okay,” she said softly.

“we’ll make sure you have support. we can arrange for a doula to be with you during delivery.”

the next few hours blurred together. the contractions came faster and harder, and you clung to the voices of the doula and two doctors, their encouragement keeping you grounded.

after two hours of pushing..

“here she is,” the doctor said, placing the tiny, squirming bundle on your chest.

you stared down at your daughter, your breath catching. she was beautiful, with the softest features... dae-ho’s nose, his eyes, his face in miniature. but her lashes and lips were yours.

“hi, baby,” you whispered, tears slipping down your cheeks.

she was quiet and calm, looking up at you with wide eyes. after the chaos of the past week, her presence felt like the first peaceful thing in your life.

the doctor explained that your stress likely triggered your early labor, but at 36 weeks, your daughter was healthy enough.

as the hours passed, you couldn’t take your eyes off her. she was perfect, even though the circumstances were far from it.

the looming question hung heavy in your mind...how were you going to tell dae-ho?

he was the only man you’d ever been with, the only person who could be her father.

without a phone or any way to contact him, the thought of reuniting with him felt impossible.

clutching your daughter close, you whispered a silent promise.

no matter how hard it would be, you’d find a way to tell him. he deserved to know, and your daughter deserved her father.

november 16th felt surreal as you approached the cozy cafe where you and dae-ho had agreed to meet.

your daughter was bundled up snugly in soft layers, her tiny face peeking out from the ivory blanket that kept her warm against the autumn chill.

the weight of her in your arms felt grounding, a reminder of how much had changed in such a short amount of time.

stepping inside, the familiar aroma of coffee and pastries filled the air, pulling you back to the times you had spent here with dae-ho before everything fell apart.

your eyes scanned the room until they landed on him.

he sat at a table in the corner, wearing one of the casual outfits you remembered so well...a simple black jacket over a gray hoodie and dark joggers.

it was such a stark contrast to the green tracksuit you had last seen him in during the games.

when his eyes lifted and met yours, they softened, lighting up with a mix of surprise, relief, and joy.

then, his gaze dropped to the baby in your arms, and his expression froze, his eyes widening in shock.

he stood as you approached, his movements hesitant but filled with emotion.

“hey,” he greeted, his voice quiet but trembling slightly.

“hey,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper as you stopped in front of him. you glanced down at your daughter, then back at him.

“she’s yours.”

dae-ho’s breath hitched as his eyes locked onto the tiny bundle in your arms.

“mine?” he asked, his voice cracking.

he reached out cautiously, his large hands trembling as they hovered near her, afraid to touch but desperate to hold.

you nodded, gently placing your daughter in his arms.

“yeah. she’s our daughter, dae-ho. eight days old.”

the moment he held her, his composure shattered. his hands cradled her so delicately, as though she were made of the most fragile glass.

a tear escaped the corner of his eye as he looked down at her, his lips parting in awe.

“you were pregnant?” he finally managed to ask, his voice thick with emotion.

you nodded again, swallowing hard.

“i didn’t know. not at any point throughout the nine months.. not until after the games, when they dropped me off. i thought the cramps were just stress, but then… i went into labor. the doctors said I had a cryptic pregnancy, their first ever in their careers actually.”

dae-ho looked at her tiny face, taking in every feature—the little nose, the faint dimple in her cheek.

“she looks just like…” he trailed off, blinking rapidly.

“she looks like my second oldest sister.”

“she does,” you agreed softly, watching the way your daughter gazed up at him with pure love in her sleepy eyes.

his voice cracked as he whispered,

“i should’ve been there. i should’ve…” he paused, guilt flickering across his face.

“i wish i had known. i’m sorry i wasn’t there for you.”

you shook your head, reaching out to touch his arm.

“dae-ho, none of this is your fault. the circumstances… none of it was in our control. you’re here now, you have us.. and that’s what matters.”

he looked up at you, his eyes glassy with unshed tears.

“i promise you,” he said, his voice firm but filled with emotion, “i’m going to be here for both of you. no more running, no more excuses. we’ll be a family, and we’ll put everything from the games behind us.”

you nodded, tears streaming down your face as you watched him hold your daughter like she was the most precious thing in the world.

her tiny fingers curled around his thumb, and his heart seemed to melt at the sight.

the three of you will make it this work. you’d leave the trauma of the past behind and move forward

together.

masterlist

[saltinyourwound]

let me (nam-gyu)

nam-gyu x gn!reader, 1.9k words, angst, fluff, smut

synopsis: you know your roommate, nam-gyu, has been struggling, and you offer him help him out in a… different way

warnings: smut!, allusions to drug abuse(nothing in detail), sub!nam-gyu, softdom!reader, handjob, really nothing too crazy, might be a little ooc nam-gyu

note: hi! this is weird for me because i haven’t posted my writing in years, but i wanted to share this because of the lack of squid game writing on here <3 i’m unsure whether i’ll post anything else, but i hope you enjoy nonetheless :)

—

sighing under the steaming hot water, you allowed your shoulders to relax for what seemed to be the first time all week. finally, it was friday, and your work week was over. finally, you had your break from your crappy 9-5 where you could feel your body rotting by the minute.

you wanted to quit, of course, but this job was the only thing keeping a roof over your head when you had to pay your share of the rent, and you knew surely your roommate wouldn’t be able to pay it by himself.

your roommate— nam-gyu— was not necessarily the ideal man to live with. you had your fair share of him stumbling into the apartment intoxicated, or him and his friends yelling obscenely at late hours. however, your past roommate had left without warning to move in with her boyfriend, and you were left scrambling.

thankfully, your friend se-mi, introduced you to nam-gyu, a man working at a club who had just been evicted from his last place for reasons he would never care to share. you had assumed it was something to do with the suspicious look in his eyes when he would come home in the middle of the night, sporting a chatty, boyish demeanor that clashed greatly with his typical standoffish and sarcastic personality. however, he never let you see what he actually took, murmuring something about it being “not anything someone like you should worry about”.

nam-gyu left you perplexed most of the time. of course, you were frustrated with him as a roommate, but there was times when you wished he would let you in as a friend. you knew nam-gyu wasn’t a bad guy. he kept his space clean and feed the stray cats outside of your apartment complex. he showed up at a moment’s notice when his friend called him after he was badly injured in a fight. however, he didn’t allow you to see when you knew he was struggling, even when you could hear his pained sobs he tried to muffle through the thin walls. you really had no basis to act on, but you knew that you wanted to support him.

with a groan, you turned off the running water and stepped out of the shower. tonight, there was nothing you could do about the pesky situation with your roommate, as you knew he had probably already left for his evening shift at the club. you wrapped a towel around your body and began your walk to your bedroom to get changed, but you gasped when you nearly bumped into another person.

“you scared the hell out of me!” you exclaimed, hand on your chest as you stared wide-eyed at the man in front of you.

“woah, shit, sorry. didn’t mean to scare you.” nam-gyu laughed, holding both of his hands up in surrender.

“what are you doing here, not at work?” you asked, shaking your head slightly to rid yourself of the shock in your lungs.

“ah, i got that one new guy to take my shift. i wasn’t in the mood to deal with shitty customers today.” he explained, stress evident in his tone. he rubbed his hands on his face before actually taking a second to look at you. when he realized your still damp body was only covered by a towel, his breath hitched in his throat, and he quickly adverted his gaze with pink ears.

“okay,” you paused with suspicion, eyeing nam-gyu in front of you. “just— are you going to have people over tonight? ‘cause i really don’t want to deal with so much noise.”

“nah, i won’t.” nam-gyu still wouldn’t meet your eyes.

“alright, cool. i’ll be in my room if you need me,” you replied, relieved, and made your way past him towards your room to get changed. nam-gyu froze in place as you walked past, squeezing his hands into fists at the smell of your body wash. he rubbed he face once again, before making a beeline towards his room, abandoning the soda he was about to grab in the fridge.

—

once changed into a comfortable loose tee and pair of sleep shorts, you collapsed into your bed, letting out a sigh. it didn’t take long, however, for you to reluctantly roll your body up due to the empty feeling in your stomach. you hadn’t eaten since your lunch break, but the idea of cooking made your shoulders sag down.

you figured your week was hard enough that you deserved take-out. you also figured that nam-gyu likely hadn’t eaten anything since you left your leftover lunch in the fridge yesterday— you had known he wouldn’t cook something himself and managed to cook too much once again anyways.

after allowing your feet to guide you down the unfamiliar track to nam-gyu’s bedroom, your hand froze in place hearing what sounded like.. your name? you held your breath at the sound, leaning closer to the door. it was, most definitely, your name being called— or really, more so whined, accompanied by soft gasps and erratic breathing.

was nam-gyu…crying? you remembered your thoughts earlier, and your heart felt pained at the idea. you considered your options. you could let nam-gyu struggle, possibly risking him doing something he would regret, or you could try and offer him help. or he could scream at you for intruding and never speak to you again.

you can’t keep allowing him to suffer alone, you reasoned with yourself and slowly turned the doorknob, but what you were meeting with was not a sobbing nam-gyu.

instead, the man lay on his bed with his eyes screwed shut and mouth slacked open, with one hand clutching his bedsheets and the other.. fisted around his cock at a nonforgiving pace. the very sight made you gasp, causing nam-gyu’s eyes to shoot open in your direction.

“holy shit!” he exclaimed, quickly pulling his blanket to cover himself.

you clapped your hands over your eyes, “fuck, i’m sorry!”

you heard nam-gyu swearing to himself quietly, and everything in you wanted to run back to your room in embarrassment, but something kept your feet planted to the ground. slowly, you peeled your hand from your eyes, looking at nam-gyu once more.

his entire body was flushed, and the shocked yet dazed in his eyes made your breath quicken. “i— why are you just standing there?!” he implored, eyes flicking over your face.

“you… were saying my name, right?” you ask breathlessly, and nam-gyu went rigid.

“what? no! no, no, no, of course not i was just—”

“you don’t have to lie.” you took a step closer.

“no, i— i wasn’t i swear. you’re my fucking roommate i wouldn’t—”o“really?” you cut him off again, analyzing his stressed expression. the furrowed eyebrows, sweaty skin, glossy eyes. “huh. i wish you were, though.”

“huh!? what do you— are you fucking with me?”

“no. i wish you were whimpering my name while you jack off.” your voice was uncharacteristically level, yet your heart was beating out of your chest. you couldn’t, however, let this opportunity pass. the idea of him wanting you excited you to no end, and it certainly helped that he looked so pretty like this.

“are you serious?” nam-gyu whispered, trying to detect if you were lying.

“of course. you don’t have to say yes but, i could.. help you out, if you wanted me to...”

all it took was a breathy “please..” for you to join nam-gyu on his bed. slowly, you eased his covers off of him, taking in the sight that transfixed you. his cock was pretty, with a flushed tip and a dribble of pre leaking out of it. what arosed you more, though, was his tear filled eyes and quivering lips.

“you’re entirely sure you want this?” you confirmed.

“yes, god, please. ‘want you more than anything.”

your thighs clenched together at his words. not taking your eyes off of his own, you wrapped your hand around the base of his length, and started to slowly move it up and down. nam-gyu let out a whine at the touch, his eyes casting to the ceiling.

your thumb swiped across his tip before continuing your movements. “doin’ so well, ‘gyu. keep looking at me, yeah?” you could sense how heavily your words effected nam-gyu with how much louder he became.

“‘s so good. fuck, you’re so good. ‘been thinking about this f’so long”

your eyes shot open in surprise. “really? how long, baby?”

“since i fucking meet you. fucking hell when i saw you, ah, in that towel i almost came right there”

your eyes rolled back at his words. he had always wanted you? while you were worried out of your mind about his well-being, he was undressing you in his mind? “fuck..” you murmured, feeling your own breath start to become rushed.

nam-gyu’s whines and groans turned into moans as you kept at your pace. you felt transfixed as your other hand traced his collarbone, feeling his erratic heartbeat in the center of his flushed chest. you knew that your heartbeat matched.

you could tell in the way his cock twitched and his body shook that nam-gyu was close. what made your breath hitch, though, was his own hand snaking up his chest to lace with your own, desperately. as if the touch was what he needed.

“shit, i’m—” nam-gyu came with a gasp, his chest heaving under your hands entwined, where he squeezed your hand with intensity.

“fuck, so good f’me..” you murmured, transfixed on the sight, your thumb rubbing circles on his hand with care.

nam-gyu opened his eyes with caution. “holy shit..” he breathed out, a pretty serene trace in his features that fought with the confusion he still had. “why did you—?”

you felt oddly struck with emotion. your hand tightened around his. “…i wanted to. i want to.. be here. with you. i’m— i’m sorry this is sappy at the wrong time but— i’ve been thinking about you for so long. please— let me be here..? you can use me however you want. even if it’s just a shitty handjob, i want to—”

“stop.” fear and embarrassment clogged up your chest. just as you we going to start apologizing, nam-gyu slowly brought your hand to his mouth, leaving a shaky kiss that left your skin sparkling in its wake. “i want you too. i’ve always wanted you. more than fucking sex. i—i’ve been scared as hell lately about everything but you.. you make me want to try.”

you felt speechless.

“i’m an asshole and you— you don’t deserve that. but,” nam-gyu had a pleading look in his eyes as he sat up, other hand cupping your warm cheek, “i want you. let me prove it.”

you couldn’t hold back yourself from letting the space between you close, groaning quietly as you felt his lips soft on yours. you felt his sincerity. you hadn’t before realized the care you held for nam-gyu had manifested into something so strong, but you felt a wash of relief as you let yourself bathe in the honesty that had bubbled out from between the two of you.

nam-gyu was first to pull away, and he looked at you with care and urgency in his eyes, “tomorrow i’ll take you out on a date. we— fuck— can figure everything out then, but right now i need more of you.”

“then take me.”

[the-oblivious-writer]

Heavy

Tara Carpenter x Reader

One-Shot

Summary: After surviving a brutal attack that left you in a coma, you awaken to find the love of your life, Tara Carpenter, has vanished from your side despite the endless nights she spent holding your hand through the worst of it.

Warning(s): Trauma, no pronouns, references to past (Scream 6) violence, mental struggles, survivor's guilt, stalking, emotional manipulation (self-imposed), and PTSD.

Notes: I was listening to Red Hot Chili Peppers while writing this.

You never looked more beautiful than when you were dying.

That thought haunts Tara as she lies in her empty bed, tracing patterns on sheets that still smell faintly of your perfume. Three months since she last held your hand in that sterile hospital room. Three months of pretending she made the right choice.

The machines kept time with your heartbeat, a rhythm she memorized during those endless nights at your bedside. Sometimes, she still hears it in her dreams - that steady beeping that meant you were still fighting, still here, still hers. Until she decided you couldn't be hers anymore.

Sam stopped by earlier, concern etched in the corners of her eyes. "You're punishing yourself," she'd said, leaving a container of soup that now sits untouched on Tara's nightstand. Maybe she is. But isn't that better than the alternative? Better than waiting for the next masked figure to emerge from the shadows, seeking to add your name to the growing list of people she's lost?

Your coma lasted six weeks. Six weeks of Tara reading to you, singing softly when the nurses weren't around, telling you all the things she should have said before. How you made her feel safe in a world that had given her every reason not to be. How your laugh could chase away the darkness that sometimes threatened to swallow her whole. How you never treated her like she was broken, even when she felt held together by nothing but stubborn will and surgical tape.

She remembers the first time you kissed her, after that night at the bowling alley. You'd been so careful with her, like you understood without being told that touch wasn't always easy for her anymore. Your hands had framed her face like she was something precious, something worth protecting. If only you'd protected yourself from her instead.

The phone on her nightstand lights up with another missed call from Chad. He's been trying to get her to come out, insisting that isolation isn't the answer. But how can she explain that every time she closes her eyes, she sees you in that hospital bed? The bandages, the bruises, the way your chest rose and fell with mechanical precision because you couldn't breathe on your own. All because someone had wanted to hurt her, and you'd been brave enough - stupid enough - to step between her and the blade.

"I can't lose you," she had whispered to your unconscious form. "I won't survive it."

But when you finally opened your eyes, weak and confused but alive, Tara realized something worse than losing you to death: losing you by choice, pushing you away to keep you safe from the curse that seems to follow her like a shadow.

The breakup was clean, surgical - like so many of the scars that map her body. She'd practiced the words in front of her bathroom mirror until they stopped making her cry. "I can't do this anymore. I need space. I need to focus on healing." All the clichés that meant nothing and everything at once. You'd looked at her with those eyes that always saw too much, and for a moment, she thought you might fight her on it. Almost hoped you would.

But you didn't. You just nodded, pressed a kiss to her forehead that felt like goodbye, and walked away. Maybe you understood. Maybe you were tired of loving someone who carried death in her wake like a bitter perfume.

Tara rolls onto her side, pulling your old high school sweatshirt tighter around herself. It stopped smelling like you weeks ago, but she wears it anyway, a form of self-torture she can't seem to give up. On her desk, photographs mock her with frozen moments of happiness - you and her at the beach, your hair wild with salt air and sunshine. The two of you at the twins' birthday party, your arm around her waist as she actually smiled for the camera. A quiet morning in your apartment, where you'd captured her making coffee in one of your oversized t-shirts, looking at peace in a way she rarely felt anymore.

Her friends tell her she's different now. Quieter. The spark that had started to return during your time together has dimmed again. Even Mindy, who never comments on anything serious, asked if she was okay the other day. Tara had wanted to laugh. Okay? How could she be when you're forced to bear wounds that were meant for her? When she spends her nights parked across from your apartment, engine off, watching the soft glow of your bedroom light like a moth drawn to flame?

She tells herself it's protection, not obsession. That someone needs to make sure you're safe, even if you don't know they're there. But the truth sits heavy in her chest as she watches your silhouette move behind curtains - the way you still favor your left side, a reminder of wounds that were meant for her. Sometimes, she catches glimpses of you leaving for work, and the sight of you walking alone makes her hands shake against the steering wheel. You look smaller somehow, or maybe that's just the distance she's forced between you.

Last week, you almost saw her. You were collecting mail from your box, and something made you turn, scanning the street with that sixth sense you always seemed to have. Tara had ducked down so fast she'd knocked her head against the dashboard, heart thundering so loud she was sure you'd hear it even from across the street. When she finally dared to look again, you were gone, but she could have sworn there were tears on your cheeks.

She knows it's wrong. Knows that if Sam or Chad found out about these nightly vigils, they'd tell her she's sliding back into old patterns, letting trauma dictate her choices. But how can she explain that sleeping is impossible unless she knows you're safe? That every time she closes her eyes without checking on you, her nightmares paint your death in vivid technicolor?

It's only a matter of time before you two cross paths again. It happens at the corner market three blocks from your old shared apartment. The same place where you used to buy cookie dough ice cream at midnight, where Tara would pretend to complain about enabling your sweet tooth while secretly loving how your kisses tasted afterward. She's reaching for coffee - your brand, though she'll never admit it - when she hears the soft intake of breath behind her.

Time stretches like taffy, sticky and overwhelming. Your reflection in the freezer glass is both familiar and foreign - thinner maybe, or just holding yourself differently. The scar above your collarbone peeks out from your shirt collar, a silvery reminder of everything she's tried to forget.

"Tara."

Her name in your mouth still sounds like coming home. She forces herself to turn, to face the reality of you standing three feet away with a basket of groceries hanging from your arm. The fluorescent lights cast shadows under your eyes that weren't there before, and she wonders if you're sleeping any better than she is.

"You look..." The words tangle in her throat. Alive. Beautiful. Like everything I've been running from. "...good."

Your laugh is hollow, nothing like the sound she keeps locked away in her memory. "Liar." You shift your weight, and she catches the slight wince - another reminder of what loving her cost you. "You've lost weight."

"Haven't been hungry much." The confession slips out before she can stop it.

Something flashes across your face - concern, maybe anger. You take a step forward, and she matches it with a step back, her spine hitting the cold glass of the freezer door. The coffee can in her hands shakes slightly.

"Don't," she whispers, but she's not sure if she's talking to you or herself.

"Don't what, Tara? Don't care? Don't worry? Because I tried that. It doesn't work." Your voice cracks on the last word, and she watches you swallow hard. "I see your car, you know. Outside my apartment."

The confession lands like a physical blow. Heat crawls up her neck as shame mingles with something else - relief, maybe, that you still know her well enough to notice. That some part of you is still watching for her too.

"I just..." She closes her eyes, unable to bear the weight of your gaze. "I need to know you're safe."

"Safe?" Now there's definitely anger in your voice. "You want me safe? Then stop making decisions for both of us. Stop deciding what I can and can't handle. Stop-" Your voice breaks, and when she opens her eyes, there are tears tracking down your cheeks. "Stop acting like your love is a death sentence."

The coffee can clatters to the floor, forgotten. Her hands ache to reach for you, to wipe away those tears she caused. But she forces them to stay at her sides, nails digging crescents into her palms.

"You almost died," she says, the words tasting like copper in her mouth. "Because of me. Because I thought I could have this - have you - without danger following. I was wrong."

"No." You step closer, and this time she can't make herself move away. "I almost died because some psychopath decided to come after us with a knife. Not because of you. Never because of you."

Your hand reaches out, hovering just shy of touching her face. She can feel the heat of it, the promise of contact that makes her chest tight with wanting. The market's muzak plays faintly in the background, some old love song that feels like mockery.

"I miss you," you whisper, and it's the gentlest violence she's ever experienced. "I miss you, and I'm not sleeping, and sometimes I think I see you everywhere, only to turn around and find empty space. And then I realized I wasn't imagining it - you were actually there, watching over me like some heartbroken guardian angel."

A sob builds in her throat. "I don't know how to stop loving you."

"Then don't." Your hand finally makes contact, cupping her cheek, and Tara breaks. "Don't stop. Just... come home."

She leans into your touch for one heartbeat, two, allowing herself to remember what it feels like to be held by hands that know all her scars. Then she steps back, away from your warmth, your forgiveness, your love that feels too much like salvation.

"I can't." The words taste like ash. "I'm sorry. I can't."

She runs. Past the dropped coffee, past the concerned clerk, past everything but the sound of you calling her name. It follows her all the way home, where she collapses against her front door and finally lets herself cry for everything she keeps choosing to lose.

The worst part is knowing that if she could do it all over again - live another life, make different choices - she'd still choose you. Still fall for the way you dance off-beat to every song, still melt at how you bring her coffee just the way she likes it, still love you with every broken piece of herself. She'd just do a better job of staying away before you could love her back.

Night settles around her like a familiar weight. In the darkness, she can almost pretend you're still here, that this is just another evening where you'll wrap your arms around her and keep the nightmares at bay. But the bed stays empty, and the shadows stay thick, and somewhere across town, you're probably sleeping peacefully for the first time since you met her.

"I love you," she whispers to the empty room, words she never said enough when she had the chance. "I love you, and that's why I can't keep you."

The silence offers no comfort, no contradiction. Just the steady tick of her bedside clock, counting down the moments until another day without you begins. Another day of being strong enough to keep her distance, of choosing your safety over her happiness. Another day of remembering that sometimes love means knowing when to let go, even when every cell in your body screams to hold on tighter.

Sleep will come eventually, bringing dreams of your smile, your touch, the way you used to look at her like she hung the stars. And tomorrow, she'll wake up and do it all again - loving you from afar, keeping you safe the only way she knows how. Because that's what love is to Tara Carpenter now: not a fairy tale, not a happy ending, but a sacrifice she makes every day to keep you breathing.

Even if it means she can barely breathe herself.

-----------

A/N: the meaning behind The Maria's "Heavy" inspired this.

[justastraymoa]

Yet Unnamed

A soulmark/bond/mate fic ot8 x y/n

Masterlist

A/N: I am still working on the last bit of Unwilling Alpha, but needed a break to think how I wanted to end it so I started typing this one up.

If you read the teaser reread this first part. I changed some things and added things.

Warnings for Yet Unnamed: Kidnapping, cuffs, injuries, drugging by injection, mentions of needles, lots of swearing, kissing, fluff, angst, idiots in love all around.

First chapter is really long because I couldn't find a good stopping place. Enjoy.

○

You sat in the backseat of a vehicle, metal cuffs cutting into your wrists and blindfold and gag pulling your hair by the knots.

To be fair, they only tightened the cuffs so much because you broke out of both sets of zip ties, they put you in earlier. They were officially annoyed as hell. But you weren’t going to just sit back quietly while you were kidnapped!

But they wised up and got themselves metal cuffs somewhere so now you were stuck until you found another opening.

You tried to keep track of your route in your head. You were in another country for sure. And judging by the Korean your 4 kidnappers kept speaking and the roughly 12-hour flight, you were in Korea. You lost count on the flight a couple times, but you were close. Maybe an hour or two hours, at most, off. Accurate enough for a good guess.

Unfortunately, by the time you came to a stop and the car shut off you were hopelessly lost. You had no hope of finding your way back to the airport even if you did somehow escape your captors. You were so turned around that you couldn’t even tell what direction you were facing now.

The door to your right opened and someone gripped your upper arm roughly and pulled. Immediately you started fighting. You had the entire car ride to rest and now you were ready to give them hell all over again. They would earn your captivity, or you would earn your escape.

“Don’t you ever give up?” A relatively high-pitched male asked through his teeth. He was farther away so he wasn’t the one holding you, fighting to get you into wherever you were going.

You grunted curses at them in English and Korean through your gag as you were dragged from the car and fell hard to the cold ground.

“Just give it to her now. It will make this easier.” A gruffer voice in your ear ordered.

His words spurred you to fight even harder in a panic. Give you what? Drug you? Knock you out so you were easier to handle? Fuck that! Who knows what they would do to you once you were out and couldn’t fight. And who knows where they would take you! You wouldn’t even have a semblance of how long you were out to know what time it was!

Another set of hands joined in restraining you, grabbing at your flailing legs to stop your kicking. You continued to fight, screaming through the gag as loud as you could and hoping someone – anyone – would hear you and come to help.

No one did. Your head was roughly jerked to the side, making your neck crack painfully, then a sharp painful prick as a needle was stabbed hard into the side of your neck. It was only seconds before the world you could hear around you started to muffle and your body became heavy and sluggish. You couldn’t remember how to find your legs to keep kicking and fighting. You couldn’t even keep your head from flopping uselessly back.

You remember very little after that. You were in and out of consciousness. There were voices and something was placed into your right hand, and it was forcefully moved as someone talked close to your ear. You couldn’t make any words out. At some point, way after you lost track of any sense of time or place the gag, and blindfold were removed and the handcuffs gently unlocked and taken off. You remember the too bright light after being blindfolded for so long and the relief of having the painful cuffs taken off.

There were warm hands on your face, gentle fingers rubbing your sore wrists. Blurry figures closer to you and raised voices. It got harder and harder to remember why you were fighting to stay awake. You were so tired, so heavy. The darkness and liquid in your mind were wo inviting. Promising a moment of peace and ease. And soon you finally gave up and let the blackness take hold. Floating in the pool in your mind.

Forcibly dragging yourself out of the pool an unknown amount of time later, the first thing you became aware of is that you were laying on your back on a soft surface. The second was a gentle brush across your forehead and voices arguing nearby in Korean.

You sprang up and away from the unknown fingers touching you, ready to fight to escape again. Still half awake and unable to find your balance you stumbled towards a door, not paying attention to anyone or anything around you.

A big man next to the door stepped in front of it and reached out to grab your upper arm tightly in the same move.

“Lemmego.” You slurred out trying to pull your arm from his grasp and get away.

“Hey, hey, hey, let her go!” Someone ordered behind you. You flinched away from that voice as well, overwhelmed, surrounded, and confused about what was happening. But the big guy obeyed the second voice and let you go, staying firm in front of the door.

You backed away and hunched in on yourself, trying to wake yourself up the rest of the way, gripping your head and shaking it, trying to get your thoughts and memories in order. What was happening? Where are you? Who else was here? You stumbled when your heel hit a wall unexpectedly.

“Go slow. You’re okay.” The second voice coaxed as hands entered your vision reaching towards you but not touching you. Just ready to catch and help you if you needed it.

You glanced up to see a very familiar face belonging to the hands, and you were even more confused. “What in the fuck is happening?” You were happy my words came out clearer than before, loud and firm, even if your mouth and throat were so dry that the short sentence made you cough painfully.

A second, very familiar man handed you a small cup of water, making sure it was steady in your hands, but being respectful about your space at the same time. “Drink, we will explain everything. You’re safe here.” The words were glittered with an Australian accent, making your ears twitch and brain spark.

As you slowly sipped at the water, you took in more of who was in the room with you. There were 4 unfamiliar faces, security from the looks of em. One stood in front of the only door in the room, blocking anyone from getting out or in, the others were in corners of the room, watching you very closely. An older man, JYP, who you were only mildly surprised to see at this point. And 3 members of Stray Kids. Han and Felix were closest to you, hovering close and looking worried. BangChan was currently arguing with JYP, hushed and inaudible from this distance, but with the way they occasionally gestured in your direction you could guess what it was about.

Completing your survey of the room you let your eyes land on Felix – who had promised you an explanation – and raised your eyebrows expectantly and waited, silently contemplating the strange warm safe feeling in your chest when you looked at him and Han.

He laughed awkwardly. “Hi, um…I’m Felix. Ah, this is Han.”

“No shit.” You responded. You were meeting your favorite idols in the worst possible way. you have been kidnapped, drugged, bruised, and god knows what else. My sarcasm and snark will not be contained.

Han rubbed his palms on his thighs in nervousness and Felix glanced behind him to BangChan, possibly looking to him for help.

“I want to go home.” You announced loud enough for BangChan and JYP to hear you clearly.

JYP immediately snapped his attention to me mid-sentence. “No, you will not leave.”

You backed flush against the wall and away from the room full of men in front of you. “Are you telling me Stray Kids and JYP have kidnapped me and are now holding me hostage?” You asked voice going up and down in pitch as the fear coursed through me and turned my blood cold. “What are you hoping for? I’m no one. And I have no family to pay a ransom.”

“You aren’t a hostage. You belong to us now.” JYP responded. Somehow this was even worse. The surety and finality of his words made a sob start to build in your chest.

“Fuck! No, you don’t!” BangChan was quick to correct, eyes wide. “You can’t just say shit like that!” He snapped at JYP. JYP shrugged unconcerned with the matter and unapologetic.

You couldn’t help the anxiety and fear filled tears that formed and fell from your eyes. You were so overwhelmed with everything that had happened and now you were being held against your will in some kind of nightmare scenario that should be saved only for fanfiction.

“No, no, no, no! Don’t cry!” Han immediately started fretting around. He pulled several tissues from a box on a side table and patted at your cheeks gently, either ignoring or not noticing you flinch away.

“She signed the soul marriage certificates already and they have been turned in. Its official.” JYP argued with BangChan, ignoring your tears altogether.

“I did what?” You asked sniffing. You didn’t remember signing anything and you definitely didn’t remember meeting your soulmates. You scratched absently at the 8 banded mark you were born with on your thigh.

You were always glad it was easily covered and hidden. As happy as you were to have 8 soulmates, having a soulmate mark and bond was getting rarer and rarer as time passed. People out there were in mixed reactions to them now. Some were indifferent, some hated anyone with one, some hated anyone without one, and some were extremely and sometimes violently jealous of anyone with one. They blamed their last soul incarnations for breaking the soul bond their souls had once had.

“You drugged her and forced her to sign! She doesn’t even remember doing it J!” BangChan was getting exceedingly angry and frustrated with the whole messed up situation and you could see it on his face. It made your leg twitch towards him, automatically wanting to go and comfort him. The feeling confused you. Maybe it was just because you were such a big fan and hated seeing him upset. (Even if it was secretly also very hot sometimes.)

Felix revealed his own soulmark, which matched yours perfectly. You stared at it dumbfounded. No fucking way were you Lee freaking Felixs soul mate!

Wait a whole fucking minute!

It was well known that Stray Kids were a soul group, unfinished, but all a part of the same soul bond. If Felix was one of your 8 total soul mates, then that means that the other members were too. And that just wasn’t possible. No way was that possible!

“We are your soul mates. Surprise!” Felix said doing small jazz hands and making the Lee Know ‘surprise’ meme pop into your head. You shook it out, now was not the time for Stray Kids memes!

You could feel your jaw drop open and your brain fizzled and went out like a candle. Completely stopped working, frozen on the words Felix just casually threw out and the soul mark he carried with him.

Behind Felix, JYP huffed. “You know why we needed to find her. We discussed this.”

“We discussed searching for our 9th member, not kidnapping and drugging them!” BangChan was nearly yelling how.

Your fear was slowly morphing into anger and disbelief as you got more and more information on what had led up to this moment. You were being used as some publicity stunt for JYP and Stray Kids. They didn’t care that you had spent the last god knows how long scared out of your gourd and fighting for your life as you were bound, blinded, silenced, and whisked away on a plane where they could take you to a place where no one would know you and know that you needed help. They didn’t care that you injured yourself fighting to get away even when you knew you were outnumbered and outgunned. They didn’t care that you were drugged, last thought being how you were going to be raped and sold.

No, they only cared about their views. Their numbers. How much money they could get. They only cared about the benefits for them, they thought nothing of anyone or anything else.

“She looks like Lino when he’s mad.” Felix whispered to Han who just nodded with wide eyes.

You ignored them for now, focused on the two people in charge across the room. “You mean to fucking tell me that I have been, kidnapped, bruised, and drugged all because you wanted some media fucking attention!” Your voice cracked in anger multiple times.

JYP still looked unapologetic as he looked at you bored. “Stray Kids is the largest only bonded K-pop group right now. And being a completed one would set us up.”

BangChan slapped his forehead. “You are not helping the situation!”

You balled up your hands, the now empty cup being crushed in your fist. You were ready to start throwing punched on principle. Mainly towards JYP.

BangChan grabbed a chair and sat down facing me. Han and Felix followed his lead, sitting in the chairs they had vacated when you launched off the couch earlier. “Please sit. I’m Chan. Or Chris. Whatever you are comfortable with.” He gestured to the pleather couch you had woken up on.

You glanced at the couch automatically but didn’t move from your spot against the wall to sit down. You may not be as afraid and confused as before, but you were still being held against your will by very powerful people. You had no doubt that they could make you disappear, and no one would ever ask any questions or even suspect them.

“Please. I know this situation is out of control but let me explain.” BangChan pleaded with you. “After that if you want to leave, I will personally make sure you get home safely and are left alone. I give you my word.” Chan tried to bargain with me.

Huffing shortly, you sat heavily on the couch, tossing the crushed cup on the side table. You sat as far away from the three of them as you could and on the edge of the seat, ready to move at any wrong movement from them. No way would they get a jump on you again. You would let them try and explain their way out of this, then take Chan up on his offer and go home, questioning ever listening to Stray Kids ever again.

Okay no, you wouldn’t question that. You still love the music and there was no way you would be able to just not listen. Their songs occupy most of your playlists and are all top 5 of your favorite songs. Their music was quite literally a part of your everyday life. Woven into your existence and history.

Chan let out a gentle sigh and smiled at you thankfully. “First off, I am so sorry. About everything. Its true that we were starting to really look for you, but it was never supposed to be like this.”

“If we did it your way, we never would have found her!” JYP put in, arms crossed and rolling his eyes.

“And now we may lose her because you just had to do it your way.” Felix snapped back. He immediately looked shocked at himself for speaking out like that and if you were in any other situation you would laugh. As it was you are so messed up in the head that you felt the tiny bubble of humor wanting to break free and make your lips tilt up.

Chan ignored them both. JYP wanted to find you for media attention. We would be the largest completed and only bonded in the industry. It would be huge for Stray Kids and by default JYPE.”

“You are not making this any better. At all.” You informed him. He was only making them seem worse and worse.

Han nodded in agreement with me. “Honestly, you are making us sound horrible.”

“We kinda are.” Felix grumbled. Chan absently reached over and rubbed his back to comfort him. You were again struck with a fluttering as you wanted to fangirl over the sweet moment.

“We weren’t just looking for you for that. It was only a bonus for Stray Kids. A means to get JYP to lend us resources to help in the search. We wanted to complete the bond. Desperately.” Chan stressed. “We have been feeling your absence for years and it was starting to get to us. The need to complete the bond and be all together was overwhelming.”

“We were going to woo you.” Han agreed again.

You almost snorted at his old-fashioned words. “Woo me. Wow. Well, you did a great job. Really. I’m so wooed right now its insane.” Your sarcasm dripped from your words like liquid.

“We didn’t know JYP would go this far, or we would have stopped him. Everyone is super mad. And worried. You were really out of it earlier.” Felix explained. He bit his lip and wrung his hands. You had the feeling he wanted to reach out to you. And normally your STAY heart would jump (then swoon) at the chance, but not right now. Not under these circumstances. Even if the pull to do so made the muscles in your arms clench.

“Bin was ready to start hitting the asses who bruised you up. It took 3 of us to calm him down.” All 3 of them looked down at your wrists.

You looked too. You hadn’t done a physical inventory since you woke up. You were just happy you still had clothes on. But now you looked. Your hands and wrists were covered in nasty looking bruises and red welts from the cuffs and zip ties. Your upper arms had long slim finger shaped bruises going around them in several spots and some shallow scratches from nails. There were various over scrapes and bruises that you assumed you got while fighting. You lift a hand to your neck where you remember the needle jabbing into your skin. You felt the sting of a bruise and the irritation of the injection site. “What was I drugged with?” Its not like you would know what it was, but somehow just knowing would make you feel better.

JYP snorted. “Doesn’t matter. Even if you go to the hospital, it’s undetectable. You can’t prove we drugged you.”

You scowled at the side of the mans head. “I don’t like you.” You announced plainly. Childish? Yes. But worth it. It needed said. The man was a creepy ass dick!

Felix let out a barking laugh while both Chan and Han ducked their heads to hide their amusement.

“I didn’t ask, and I don’t care.” The man retorted. Now you did laugh. The whole of this mans life revolved around getting attention.

“Yeah, you do. You crave attention like a whore. It kills you.”

“Alright, alright! This isn’t helping. Can we talk to her alone?” Chan cut in before JYP could respond to you.

JYP stormed from the room without a word, almost shoving past the security guard still standing in front of the door. The security all went with him, slamming the door on the way out.

The entire room seemed to relax as soon as they were all gone. The tension lessened by waves.

“What’s your name?” Chan asked.

“Y/n. F/n L/n.” You respond automatically even as you suspected they were all already very aware of what your name was and just wanted to be polite. The act of being normal humans and not idols did actually help put you at ease despite the situation still being sketchy.

“Pretty name. Its very nice to finally meet you, y/n. And I really hope you will give us a chance to show you we aren’t horrible people who kidnap others.” Chan had a hopeful look on his face. And as appealing as it sounded, you didn’t think it would be a logical decision to stay.

Now Felix did reach forward and grab your hands, gently and loosely so you could easily escape his grip if you wanted. He looked a little crazed gazing up at you with wide, watery, pleading eyes. “Please give us a chance. Meet the others, stay for a couple weeks! We can find you a bed in our apartment!” He begged. “Let us make this up to you!”

“We could also put you up in a hotel if you are more comfortable putting some space between us.” Han added. Felix looked at him scandalized, but didn’t argue like you knew he wanted to.

You watch Felix trace circles on the back of your bruised hands gently so he didn’t hurt you. Your ultimate life goal had always been to find your soul group. And now here they are – well, some of them. And you could feel the sense of comfort and home just from the 3 soul mates here now. People say that when the bond is complete, it's unlike any feeling of comfort and completeness you have ever felt before or will ever feel again. They say that having an incomplete bond is like the feeling of phantom limb pain. It's there, but not there, and it hurts.

Since you had never met any of them the feeling of emptiness was normal to you. You didn’t even notice it, even if sometimes you felt like you were always searching for something or craving something you could never quite reach. The 8 of them having an almost complete bond would cause enough phantom limb pain to drive anyone to drastic measures after long enough. Not that that excused anything that was done to you over the last day or so.

If I left them now it would hurt not only you, but them as well. And it would possibly break the bond forever. It would be the end of this soul group in any incarnation of our souls.

At the same time, since this is the way it went down, how could you stay. You knew what would happen. It wouldn’t be just about your life being flipped upside down. Or dropping everything and moving to Korea. STAY would find out about the kidnapping. They are the best detectives out there. You want something found, ask a STAY. And it would all be over, for all of us.

That being said, now that you know the feeling of being near a soul bond mate, could you go without it? Would you be able to survive the pain. They would have each other. You would have no one. You would go back to no one. You would go back to no family, a dead-end job that pays shit and you hate. And an overpriced crappy apartment you couldn’t stand.

You were smart. If you could stay hidden from STAY and dispatch long enough, you could find a way around the negative start to this whole situation. A way to permanently cover up the kidnapping and bury it forever. It’s not like anyone would ever report you missing. You had no friends; you hated everyone in your life. Barely tolerated them. And the little family you once had were all gone now. It was just you. And since you were a no call no-show at work, you didn’t even have a job to go back to anymore. Maybe a new adventure is needed. But on your terms.

“I don’t want to have to deal with JYP alone, ever. That man gives off paedo vibes like nothing else. He is creepy and gross.” This was non-negotiable. You couldn’t stomach the man.

Chan nodded. “We can work with that.”

You took a deep breath and squeezed Felixs hands still holding yours. “Then ill stay.” You held up a finger as they all smiled widely. “But it has to be kept quiet until we figure out a way to keep the kidnapping a secret.”

They nodded. Felix squealed and swung my hands. Han’s smile reached both ears and showed lots of gum. And Chan looked deeply relieved.

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Ko-fi fund

General Taglist @stellasays45 @beebee18 @weird-bookworm @velvetmoonlght

Yet Unnamed Taglist: @fackeraccount @velvetmoonlght @hyunjinstolemyheart @vampkittenb82 @happy-jj

(If you aren't tagged, I couldn't tag you for some reason. Happy-jj wasn't sure if you wanted to be added or not, lmk if you want removed via dm)

[arminslovurrr]

"aita for purposely flirting with a waitress to make my gf mad so i could fuck her attitude away after?" is what asshole!suguru was typing on reddit, a cunning grin plastered on his face as he laid next to your sleeping frame, your arm slung over his chest, a bit of drool slipping past your slightly agape swollen lips. squinting a bit as his phone screen illuminating a white beam on his face.

you caught an attitude after your “sweet” boyfriend suguru who intentionally flirted with a waitress at a cafe you were so excited to take him to. like !?! he blatantly called the waitress pet names that he'd only call you, giving her the sweetest smiles, talking in the smoothest tone then tipping her very generously.

not to even get you started, but did she think you didn't see the way she eyed your man with big doe, occasionally batting her long eyelashes at him, suddenly speaking to him in a honeyed tone, leaning across the table to place sugurus alfredo infront of him, purposely showing the valley of her breast through her unbuttoned uniform shirt. steam was practically coming out of both of your ears, but like the classy girl suguru knew you were, you kept your mouth shut. only mugging her slightly, folding your arms across your chest, sighing loudly n rolling your eyes when she'd ask if suguru needed anything. just wanting to go home and tune suguru out

n what really pissed you off is how he kept trying to converse with you after the stunt he pulled !?! so obviously you ignored him on the car ride home while he asked you "what's wrong" he knows what's wrong!?! n then he’d ramble on about how the cafe was just lovely n how the waitress was so sweet ! it was like he wanted to see a vein about to bulge on your forehead. your eyebrows furrowed, arms folded over your chest, legs facing away from him as you stared out the window. when he tried to rest his hand on ur thigh, he'd glance at you then snicker at ur actions before returning his attention to the road with a small smile on his face

once you got home he gave you one more chance for you to tell him ur woes but instead you stomped away to your shared bedroom. making sure to slam the door behind you.

now he has you folded into a mating press, your legs bent and pressed against your chest as he held his forehead against yours, his breath lightly fanning your face. his pelvis pressed flush against the back of your thighs as he gave you achingly slow strokes, his eyes trained on the lewd expression plastered on your pretty face. he’d keep you on the edge of a mind blowing release, patiently waiting for you to tell him what’s wrong because asshole! suguru just has nooooo idea what he did !!??

you'd fight to keep your eyes open, your mouth slightly agape as pretty lil symphony's rush out of past ur lips "s-suguu- mmmngghh!" you whimpered, staring up at him with now half lidded eyes as his bulbous tip grazed your cervix.

"mhmm.. you gonna let me show you how sorry i am? hm?" he asked you lowly, when you didn't respond due to how intense you were feeling he'd slap you cheek "f-fuh.. oh my gosh-" you sigh not being able to finish ur sentence because of the constant drag of his length in ur confined gummy walls. "speak up sweetie, can't understand you- anghh" he groans as u rack ur nails through his inky strands. "i-i said.." you inhale trying to collect any sense that you still have "fuck youuuu shiiittt…." you groaned when he reached down to toy with your clit. “oh you dont mean that, sweet girl” he cooed as he reeled himself back slightly to stare down at where you two connected.

pulling his hips back to watch as a milky mixture of you both oozes down his pale cock. slowly pushing in and out, occasionally speeding up to get a reaction out of you. a gentle left hand caressing the apple of your cheek before giving it a firm slap, whilst his right thumb hooks under your swollen clit, flicking it up and down gently. “jus be a big hngh- girl n tell me what i did” his breath hitches, teetering on the edge of release as he’d been edging both you and him !!

"fuh-flirtin' with that girl right infrunna m-me.." he chuckles before sucking in a sharp breath at the active clench of your slick pussy. "c-cmon baby" his hips stutter, knowing he's nearing his peak. "you know im sorry, right?" he stares at you with hooded glossy eyes, his left hand coming back up to softly graze you cheek. "forgive me 'n you can cum on this cock, baby." for a second you'd probably think he was actually feeling really.. really apologetic, but knowing suguru he'd probably do it again just to have you in this position once more.

after being edged for so, so long, the word 'cum' leaving his mouth is all you want to hear from him right now. "fine! i f-forgive you sugu!" you cry out feeling him angle his hips up, so each stroke causes his fat cock to poke at that rugged, spongy part deep inside of you. white hot pleasure blinding you, "sa silent scream barely leaves your mouth before suguru presses his lips against yours. his long tongue finding yours as he sucks on it, moaning loudly in your mouth as he pushes you into overstimulation from his nonstop pounding.

if you were to open your eyes to see his face, you be met with a enchantingly chaotic sight. his long inky longs messier than usual, thin eyebrows furrowed with focus, with the prettiest rosy color wiping over his face. he looked pathetic. with one more gasp of your name against your lips, stilling his hips, hot splurts of his creamy seed spills into your awaiting womb, filling up ur tummy with warm ribbons of him. you whine feeling the warmth of him engulf you as he lets his body weight sink onto you.his once stiff cock, comfortable going limp inside of you. his cock acting as plug, keeping his seed snuggly inside of your gooey insides. he sighs deeply, nuzzling his face into your hair as the two of you bask in the afterglow of jealousy sex.

your eyes begin to fall heavy, wanting to succumb to sleep. "do you really forgive me, sweetie?" suguru teasing murmurs into your hair with a sleazy smile that you could pratically hear in that sentence plastered on his stupid face.

"fuck off."

an: suguru is unironically a reddit user, prove me wrong !! anywho yall finally get a work from me after months lololol, there’s no telling when i’ll be back but as always i love yallllllll

© arminslovurr 2023-25 , do not copy, translate, make ai chat bots or alter my work in any way.

[nickfowlerrr]

once more with feeling

pairing: professor!bucky barnes x curvy!actress!reader (reader is not a student)

warnings: mdni. no smut. flirting. i’d label this as soft horny if that were a thing lol. edward/guy moratz makes a short appearance. not much else really but self-indulgence at its finest. reader is probably minimum twenty five but you can imagine whatever age 21 and up you'd like and it should read alright.

words: 5185

notes: this was originally going to be a professor bucky x reader fic but then i got the idea for auditioning reader and then i thought oh! what if i wrote for my latest obsession - edward/guy! so then it was gonna be guy x actress reader but then i realized i kept picturing bucky and i’ve missed writing for him so then it changed again into professor bucky but now with actress reader and that’s where i landed with it even though i think this would work so well with guy as our guy and truth be told upon rereading myself i did start to picture him instead of bucky ha but ANYWAY this is buckys fic but if you wanna picture guy that works pretty well too 🤭 writing this was a nice distraction from the craziness of life lately and i hope you enjoy it. also just to say it - if you haven’t had the chance to watch a different man yet, you absolutely should. it’s great.

pls lmk your thoughts! i’d love to hear what you think. thank you in advance for reading! as always, comments and reblogs are so appreciated and more than welcome. 🩵

Goosebumps have risen all over your skin as you sit in the uncomfortable auditorium seat. Your legs are freezing thanks to the dress you don; despite its length, the fabric doesn’t provide much warmth and you can’t help but shake just a touch as another chill comes over you. You wrap your arms as tightly as you can around yourself but it too does little to help. The shrug cropped cardigan keeps your arms covered but the cold still chills - even inside the walls of this classroom auditorium.

This was a stupid idea, you accept far too late.

Granted, your planned outfit originally saw you in lined leggings to help fight the cold of the season, but after your little trip down the stairs on your way here - despite having held the skirt of the dress up to avoid such a fall to begin with! - you decided to toss the ripped and coffee soaked leggings and keep on instead of doing what the universe clearly was screaming at you to do: Go back to your apartment, take those god forsaken heeled shoes off, and put on something simpler. You were trying too hard.

Maybe you were. But you couldn’t care. You needed this. And when do you get to wear a dress like this on the daily? It fits the mood and works for the role without being a costume. You may feel a little uncomfortable, you don’t wear dresses out often, but you don’t think you’ve really made the wrong choice.

You were last on the audition sign in sheet so thankfully no one would be left to watch you the way you’d just studied the twelve other girls reading for this role.

They all dressed casually, had book bags with them, it was obvious they all attended this school. And here you were! A college dropout, overdressed in comparison, and clearly out of place.

Ah, you’re getting too in your head again. Always looking for a reason why something won’t go your way. But you’ve been working on that, and calling yourself out seems to help.

You take a deep breath as the last girl clears the stage and the casting table speaks amongst themselves.

You haven’t been able to see any of their faces, only the backs of their heads. You aren’t sure if there are students or faculty at the table with them but you figure it doesn’t really matter.

The casting call said all were welcome to audition - student or not. The location was only at the college because of renovations on the theatre in the city.

…It did say that, right? You’re not auditioning for a college show, right?

Your heart begins to pick up speed as you worry. Did you read it wrong? Were you making things up? You scramble for your phone and as you pull up the email the city theatre sent out last week, your name is called.

You don’t have the chance to reread it before you shut your phone off and tuck it away in your bag, placing it on your seat as you stand. You take a breath as you smile as confidently and friendly as you can and make your way down to the stage.

“That’s me,” you say as they watch you.

Finally you’re able to see their faces and as you make eye contact with each of them you can feel them sizing you up. Three people sit at the folding table before the stage and one man sits a bit further back in the second row of auditorium seats. He has yet to look up from his book and you realize you hadn’t noticed him at all earlier.

A younger man at the casting table, no more than 30 if you’d had to guess, tilts his head as he watches you ascend the few steps to the stage.

“So,” he states your name again, “do you attend classes here?”

���No,” you answer with a small shake of your head, “no I’m not a student.” You work to maintain your easy smile as you feel all eyes on you.

The man nods and turns to speak to the man still sitting and reading behind him. “Well, Mr. Barnes,” he gets his attention finally, “no pressure to stay. All the students have been seen, you’re free to go. This is the last audition for the day then we’ll be out of your hair.”

“Until tomorrow when you’ll take over my auditorium again,” he rumbles lowly as he stares at the man who is still looking at him.

You swallow hard as you do the same. His eyes are bright despite his obvious annoyance, his dark hair pushed back as he tries to keep it out of his face, only a couple silver strands shining through the dark chestnut brown; the stubble that covers his jaw adds to his air of gruffness - the spot of gray near his chin adding to his appeal. He’s tall, you gather as your eyes move down his body, his long legs. He wears dark slacks and a baby blue button up dress shirt tucked into his pants. The sleeves are rolled up his forearms and the top couple buttons of his shirt are undone, giving just a hint at his chest hair and the chain that hangs around his neck.

You realize you’re staring as you hear the voice of the younger man responding to Mr. Barnes, but you don’t hear what he’s saying as you force yourself to look away. Your eyes blink up and you’re caught. His blue eyes are on you, brows furrowed and his expression unreadable. You quickly look away and pretend you weren’t doing a thing as you wait for them to give you the go ahead.

Some more words are exchanged as they seem to try and appease the man whose classroom they are in. You’re not entirely paying attention to the conversation as you run your lines in your head for the millionth time.

You know the words. You know the part. You’re not worried, necessarily. But you haven’t booked a single thing in the past eight months and to say that hasn’t shaken your confidence in yourself even just a little bit would be a lie. But you’re getting back to your roots. You’ve missed the theatre. It was and will forever be your first love. This is your first stage audition in a while though, and your first experience with this theatre. Since moving to the city, you swore you’d audition for one of their shows but just never got around to it as your focus shifted to film. This is your time now. Is it going exactly how you’d envisioned it’d go? Well, you’re standing in a university campus auditorium instead of the stage at the Fervent Fires Theatre to audition, so, no. But that’s okay! You have a good feeling about this. And as you stand here, you feel more and more relaxed. It’s kind of bringing you back to your high school days - the annoyed teacher having to share the auditorium with the annoying theatre people. It’s funny.

And after seeing the other girls audition you really don’t feel too stressed. Most of them were late teens auditioning for Elmire. Despite the fact you played her in your late teens, too, that was simply because the production was full of other teens and young adults. You’re definitely more of the right fit even now. You’ve seen some of the theatre's productions before and who and how they tend to cast. Granted this is second day auditions and everyone else who has been seen might be in your league, but you won’t dwell on who you may be compared to - and you kind of needed the confidence boost today.

You take a breath and remind yourself you know what you’re doing. Whether you get a callback or not, just being on a stage again, acting in front of people again, you’ve needed this. It’s good.

You come back to yourself, out of your head and more at ease and hear Mr. Barnes as he speaks.

“And I appreciate being ‘free to go’ but I’m fine right where I am. Seeing as how this is my classroom, I’m sure that won’t be a problem.”

“Oh, no, of course not. I just meant that if you wanted to go, you were free to, are free to, do, ya know, whatever you want. We were under the impression you were required to be here as a faculty member during student’s auditions, but, uhm, yes, of course. We aren’t trying to push you out or anything,” he smiles before nervously clearing his throat and turning back to face the table. He shuffles around the papers before him and you see him pull your headshot and resume to the front of his stack, grabbing his notes and pen before turning his gaze to you.

“Alright, sorry about that. You can start whenever you’re ready.”

Their eyes are all on you. The casting table, and the man behind them. He’s set his book down next to him, has his hands folded in his lap as he sits back in his seat, casual and intent all at once, while his brilliant blue gaze is set right on you.

-

The audition is a blur, it goes by so fast. As you thank them for their time, you’re surprised when they offer you more information they hadn’t given out before.

“Callbacks will be next Tuesday and they’ll be at the actual theatre. We’ve been under construction all month but should be good to go next week. We appreciate you taking the time to come audition here, we know it’s a little out of the way in comparison.”

“Not a problem at all, it actually isn’t too far from me,” you smile.

“Good, well, keep a look out for an email with more details and…” the director on the end of the table looks up to you as if she’s catching herself from revealing a secret, then sighs, “ah, screw it, you’re definitely on the callback list,” she smiles, “we’ll see you there.”

“Amazing,” you breathe, “I’m looking forward to it. Thank you again, so much,” you can’t help your grin as you walk closer to the steps of the stage.

The casting table packs their things as you walk past them back to where you were sitting before. You’d left your bag and half drinken coffee so you make to go get it. As you pass the first few rows, you feel Barnes’ stare again, this time only fleeting as his name is called from the young man who spoke to him before.

“This table?”

“You can leave it,” he states, sounding bored.

“Okay. Thank you again for letting us use the stage, we really do appreciate it.”

You don’t hear him reply as you hear the casting team leave out the door.

The realization you’re the last one left intruding on this man has you hurrying up.

Until you hear his voice again.

“You were good.”

You turn at the compliment, wide eyed as you see him coming closer up the steps. Your heart seems to skip a beat and you wonder what he’s doing until he bends down a few rows before you and picks up an empty coffee cup someone must have left earlier.

You’re caught a bit off guard but force your mouth to work after a second, “Thank you.”

“Yeah,” he nods as he stands back up straight. You watch as he tosses it easily into the trash can at the bottom of the stairs before he turns back to look at you again.

You were right. He’s tall, and somehow even more attractive than you’d originally thought now that you’re seeing him even closer.

“I’m no director, but from what I’ve seen yesterday and today, if I was casting, you’d be it.”

“Oh,” you feel your face warm despite how cold the auditorium still is, “that’s,” you laugh a little under your breath, “that’s really nice to hear, thank you.” You have to look down as his gaze is just a little too much for you right now. You don’t need to fall down another set of stairs today and if you let yourself get lost in those ocean blue eyes of his, you’re almost certain you will.

“You seem more shy off stage than you do on,” he comments, taking another step up the stairs, another step closer to you.

“Yeah,” you titter nervously, “um, I’m an actor, ‘m pretty good at faking it when I have to.”

He raises his brow at your unintentional innuendo and immediately you catch yourself. You feel like you’re on fire and you see something in his eyes, almost like he’s working himself up to reply as he takes the last step he needs to be on the same level as you.

“You fake it a lot?”

Your lips move as if you have words to speak but nothing comes out as he stares at you and you stare back.

God, he smells good. And he’s so tall. And muscular. And pretty.

You blink as you try to break yourself free from this trance.

Is he hitting on you? You don’t even know this man’s name and yet there’s a fluttering in your tummy at the way he’s eyeing you. His gaze roves down your body, over your soft curves that are accentuated by the corset dress hugging you. His tongue darts out as he wets his lips seemingly without thought and that familiar desire that’s been plaguing you the last six months since your breakup has you fidgeting where you stand. He’s so effortlessly hot and the thought of getting on your knees right here and now for him hits you out of nowhere and only burns you further. Wow, where did that come from?

You haven’t been with anyone since you ended things with Nick, and you may be horny, but you’re not desperate… Are you?

You swallow hard and extend your hand to him, offering him your name as you do. He smiles with a deft chuckle, looking from your hand back up to your eyes before he takes your hand in his, seeming to ease some tension in him you hadn’t noticed before. Maybe not tension, maybe anxiousness? But no, that couldn’t be it. His smile is so easy there’s no way the word confident wouldn’t be in your top choices to describe him.

“James,” he supplies as you shake his hand. His big, warm hand that you can’t help but imagine the weight of if he were to place it on your waist. He squeezes you just a bit and another wave of your sudden desire rolls through you.

“Nice to meet you,” you say, sounding a lot more sultry than you ever intended. His lips quirk and he takes a second before he responds, again, you get the funny feeling he’s working himself up to say what he does.

“Can I be honest with you?” he asks bluntly, waiting for your nod before he continues. “I saw you staring at me when you were on stage.”

Okay. Ha. Wow. You’re so hot you wouldn’t be surprised if steam was coming off your cheeks. God, you could just explode from your mortification at his words. Is he really calling you out like this, right to your face? Your cheeks are burning and you don’t know what to say. You suck your lips in your nervousness as you inhale a breath through your nose, letting your lips go as you suck your teeth when you release them. You look down as your tongue runs along the edges of your teeth. A nervous habit when you’re at a loss for words as you let out a breathy titter at being caught and having it brought up.

You hear a light laugh from him before your breath is stilled when he gently touches your chin, his touch warm as he tilts your face up so you’re looking at him once again.

You’re stalled in a sort of awe as his eyes seem to twinkle at you.

“You don’t need to be embarrassed,” he assures you, his voice smooth as silk, “I was staring back.”

The soft smirk on his lips lights you up as you unthinkingly wet your own. In any imagined scenario you would never have thought you’d be so receptive to a stranger coming on this strongly - so boldly and up front. But here you are. Receptive as hell. There’s something about him, about his approach, that has you even more attracted to him than you were at first glance…er, stare. His voice, his attitude, the way he’s looking at you. As if he knows exactly what he wants, and he’s going for it. As if the very thing he wants right now, is you.

“Your eyes alone are captivating, but there’s something else about you,” he muses, “you got on stage and it was like I couldn’t look away.”

You almost have to force yourself to take a breath before you can talk. “The dress,” you quip with a small shrug.

“The dress,” he looks down at your body once more, a funny fluttering setting your core alight under his gaze, “well it definitely helped. It’s nice,” he compliments, his hand reaching to touch the fabric and grazing your hip. At his touch his eyes flick up to gauge your reaction and, seeing what you’re sure is a dreamy like haze, he goes on. “Look, I have to teach a class here in half an hour so I’m just gonna cut to the chase,” he says, a hint of an east coast accent slipping in and becoming clearer in his voice as he speaks, “I think you’re gorgeous. And I think you might think I’m not so bad myself,” he half smiles as his lips twitch. “I know this is forward,” his eyes meet yours once more, “and there’s no expectation here.”

Your brows raise despite yourself as you wait for him to go on. He licks his lips again and takes a step closer to you.

“Do you wanna have sex with me?”

You inhale sharply as you pause, your lips parting with the breath.

Weirdly some far off part of you was kind of expecting that was where this was leading, but in the very same breath, you really were not expecting him to say that. Your mouth goes dry and your mind goes blank as you try and process his words. You know your immediate, no thought involved answer. But surely, this calls for some thought, doesn’t it?... It’s not like anonymous sex isn’t a thing, it’s just never been your thing. But you do have the rest of the day free and you’re riding on a kind of confidence high at the moment, and god is this man tempting.

A small smirk tugs at the corner of his lips as he stares at you, studying you and waiting for your yes or no.

“You do this a lot?” you ask instead.

He breathes a soft chuckle, “Never, actually,” he shakes his head, “but I’ve been out of the game for a while, recently been told I need to put myself out there, and I guess I don’t really know how to be anything other than direct these days.”

“Hm,” you look into his bright eyes, a sincerity there you don’t find in people often these days, “I guess I can appreciate that.”

“Is that a yes?”

Fuck it, you think. You’ve been pushing past your normal comfort zones all day. What’s a little sex with a hot stranger? …Right? You’re seconds away from saying yes, how could you not, you egg yourself on, but you figure you should make this as clear as you can. Not that his answer has much chance of changing yours.

“Is this just sex? Or…” you trail off.

“At the very present moment,” he specifies, “just sex.”

You nod in easy understanding, readily taking it for what it is, but he continues on.

“And if you wanna leave it at that, we’ll leave it at that, but if you’re interested in dinner later tonight, too, I’d be glad to buy. Pick you up and everything.”

“Oh, what a gentleman,” you simper with a titter you can’t suppress. “Okay.”

“Yeah?” he asks.

“Mhm,”

“Sex?”

You nod with a smirk as he closes the gap between your bodies.

“Right now?” he adds again, getting the same response as you smile against his lips when he leans in closer.

He kisses you. You’re immediately lost to him as his lips touch yours, his stubble tickling your soft skin. It’s surprisingly tentative, slow and soft at first, like he’s testing the waters between you. After a long moment, he decides to pull away, not too far, only parting for a split second. You're struck by the fleeting feeling of his lips being on yours, it steals your breath as you mindlessly lean into him immediately looking for more. Your eyes meet again, there’s a glimmer of shared recognition and you know he feels the same, and then his lips are on yours even more hotly. You’ve always thought people were dramatic when they spoke about having sparks with someone, that it wasn’t a real experience, just hyperbole… exaggeration, but you’re realizing now you just hadn’t ever experienced it before. That spark, that zing, it is real. It must be, because as crazy and sudden as it is, you think you have it here.

His hand comes to hold your head, keeping you close as he leads you. You might be embarrassed by the way you melt into him if you were thinking of anything other than how good his touch is and how perfect his lips seem to meld with yours.

You’re filled with a thrilling excitement you don’t know you can compare to anything you’ve felt before. This is new and nice and as the kiss deepens, your nerves turn from jittery butterflies in your belly to a smoldering desire that burns lower and lower. His firm body is pressed to your soft one and his free hand falls to the tail of your back, holding you closer and keeping you there against him before his hand snakes to your hip, wandering up your curves as he feels as much of you as he can. Your own hands are against his stomach as you chase his kiss, fingers fisting the fabric of his button down shirt.

James nips at your bottom lip and you give him entry without a pause, his tongue slipping in your mouth as he kisses you fervently, like something out of a movie. You’ve never been in a situation like this, and you can say with certainty you’ve never been kissed like this either.

You let your hands slide up his torso until you find the first button. As if you’ve done it a million times, you easily begin the tedious task of unbuttoning each one - though you take your time, not wanting to break any as you’re still caught in his hold, still lost in his kiss.

You hate having to break away but you need a breath and despite the loss of contact with your lips, James’ continues to travel along your skin. From your cheek to your jaw and down your neck as you angle yourself to allow him more access, all the while your fingers do their work and your breathing turns heavier. Once the buttons are undone you pull the tails of his shirt from his pants. His hands are still on you, feeling you as he kisses your delicate skin.

Your hands stabilize yourself by holding his sides as he yanks you closer to him still. He’s much thicker than he looked, you realize as you touch him. Your hands wander up his back, wanting to get his undertank off as soon as humanly possible so you can really feel the muscles there.

He brings an arm around your waist and his other hand glides down your back until he gets to your bottom, groaning in your neck as he squeezes you there.

“Buck?”

A loud voice breaks the trance the two of you have been under and causes you to jump as you hear the doors closing and footsteps coming around the side staircase, bringing a different man into view.

You’re startled, and James gallantly moves you just behind him despite your still fully clothed state. You’re still grateful though, you know you must look a little mussed, your cardigan falling down your arms and James’ undone shirt hardly producing any air of innocence about what was unfolding just moments ago.

“Oh, sorry,” the man starts with inquiring eyes, looking between the both of you. He’s just as tall as James and has eyes just as blue. He’s clean shaven, though and not as bulky. Still, they look like they could be brothers. “Professor?” he asks, “Am I interrupting something?”

“She’s not a student, Guy,” James responds, annoyance clear as day in his voice. “I’m not Drysdale.”

“Right,” Guy says on a light, breathy laugh, a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. He seems uncomfortable at the mention. You see him as he eyes James’ still undone shirt.

“What do you need, Guy?” James asks firmly, getting his eyes back on him.

“It can wait,” he brushes off, “just wanted to say thanks for letting the theatre use the stage again, we appreciate it.” His eyes flick to you and he seems to make a connection. “Elmire?”

Your eyes meet his in surprise, “Um, yeah,” you nod with a small smile, shifting your weight from one leg to the other, arms crossed over your chest.

“Tartuffe,” he gestures to himself with a smile of his own. You suddenly recognize him and take a step forward.

“Wait, did I see you in Death of a Salesman the other month?”

“Yes,” he smiles even more sincerely now, “yes, it’s the year of the classics at the theatre,” he chuckles.

“Right, yeah, you were incredible. Really great performance,” you compliment him.

“Thank you very much. I heard good things just now about your audition, I’m assuming you’re -,”

James interrupts Guy by supplying your name himself, causing you both to look at him. You fight a smile at the sound of it on his lips.

“Well then,” Guy looks back toward you, clearing his throat a bit, “I will be seeing you at your callback,” he turns to James, “and I will be seeing you in the office later.”

He takes a step back, “It was nice to meet you, and thank you again, Bucky.”

The name catches your attention as Guy walks off and James turns back to face you.

He sighs as he looks at you, reaching for your hand which you allow him to take.

His touch is deceptively delicate and you can’t pretend you don’t like it.

“Bucky?” you question. He meets your gaze and gives a sheepish half smile.

“Nickname.”

You nod, “Ah. Makes sense,” you lilt, holding his eye. “Suits you.”

“You can call me Bucky if you’d like. Like the way it sounds when you say it.”

You huff a laugh, looking away. He continues on, “I’m sorry for that interruption, I uhm,” he let’s go of your hand and moves to start buttoning his shirt back up, “I think we’re gonna have to try this again later,” he pauses, glancing back to you, “if you’re still-,”

“I am,” you smile, cutting him off.

He finishes tucking in his shirt and then immediately takes another step closer to you.

His eyes are scrutinizing in the best way as he takes your face gently in his hands, your own coming to hold his wrists; his bright gaze shining into your own. It feels intimate but strangely…right.

“I guess I should be thanking Guy,” he muses. Your brows furrow in unvoiced questioning. His lips quirk at the face you make. “I was taking the advice of someone I’d never normally take advice from being so forward with you. Honestly, it’s not really me,” he admits, admiring the soft smile of your own gracing your lips at his words. “I’m more of the courting type.” You laugh brightly at his choice of words as he smirks. “Old fashioned, I know.”

“No, that’s..That’s good. More my speed. I was uh, stepping a little ways out of my comfort zone with this myself.”

The want that had been burning between you two wasn’t exactly boiling over at the moment, but despite the space between you now, it was still there... Call it a low simmer.

He pulls you closer as you wet your lips and his nose brushes yours. You’re certain he’s about to kiss you and your eyes flutter shut but instead, Bucky pulls away. He lets you go as he bites his own lip and you both hear the opening of the door again before you hear multiple footsteps follow in.

“My class is starting soon. But,” he gets his phone from his back pocket and hands it to you, “we’re still on for dinner?”

You take his phone with a demure smile, feeling somewhat grateful for the shift in direction, and send yourself a text message, saving your contact in his phone before handing it back, his fingers grazing your own. “I’d really like that.”

Students begin to file in and get seated around the auditorium as you stand with Bucky.

You turn to grab your bag and your coffee cup, then face him again. You glance around and notice you’re still relatively alone, most of the students have sat toward the middle of the auditorium, and no eyes seem to be on you, but you keep your voice low anyway.

“And I do get it if you really want to go slow here, but, if you want to…ya know, try this,” you raise your brows, hoping to communicate your meaning, “again, tonight, I’d be up for that, too.”

He nods, a schoolboy smile on his lips as he admires you.

Your lips twitch with a smile of their own, “I’ll see you later.”

You feel a renewed giddiness as you turn from him and he returns your ‘bye’. His eyes are on you as you make your way down the steps and follow you until he can’t any further. You liked the feeling.

Call you crazy, but you think you just might be developing feelings for Bucky already as it is, despite not knowing much more than he seems to be a kind man, gentle, confident, insanely attractive…. You wouldn’t be surprised if this dinner solidified those feelings and more, even further. You’re looking forward to talking with him, really getting to know him.

You may not be one for sex with a stranger, but sex after the first date doesn’t sound too out there for you... Especially not when that date is with Bucky.

[nekrosmos]

John and Nikolai finally have time to spend an evening together, but John came back exhausted from an op and is now fighting to stay awake for Nikolai's sake, while Nik really only wants him to rest.

(Just a little bit nsfw at the beginning)

...

"Are you sure you are up for this, John?"

Nikolai wasn't a fool, he could see the exhaustion on John's face, the way his eyelids felt heavier than the dumbbells he was used to pulling almost every day, the heavy bags under his tired eyes. It was a good sight, a more vulnerable side of John he wasn’t used to showing to the world. To allow himself to drop his guard enough to fall asleep by someone’s side, well, Nik certainly felt like the luckiest man in the world. 

“I am… want to make you feel good….”

Those last words were barely coherent, John’s speech getting worse and worse with each passing minute he was fighting to stay awake. It was adorable. 

“Right. So if I asked for your lips around my cock, you would do it?”

Nik was teasing him, a wide smile on his face as he observed John’s reaction, or lack thereof, as the captain stared vacantly at him, his eyes barely open. For a second, Nik assumed that John had finally fallen asleep, until his hand moved, brushing his tired face with the back of it. 

“Just fuck me, Nik, c’mon.”

A gentle and quiet laugh was Nik’s response. If there was one thing John Price was, it was stubborn. Unless he physically restrained him and tightly tucked him under a blanket, this wasn’t a fight he had a chance to win. There were, however, many ways to win a fight. 

“Da, let me get to it then.” 

It was getting difficult for Nikolai to stop himself from laughing. John was laying on their bed, absorbed by the pillows and the blankets, like he was floating above a cloud. Nik stood on his knees between John’s legs, hands gently brushing the inside of his thigh. 

Spending time together was always a difficult task when both John and Nikolai spent their days on different sides of the world, dodging bullets and risking their lives. It was rare for them to be on the same continent, let alone the same room, despite how much they wanted it. 

When the two finally had some free time to spend together, Nikolai always wanted to do something special for John: taking him on dates, making him try food he knew he would love, fly him to a secluded place and make love to him under the stars. He wanted to make up for lost time, of course, and John knew that, a slight leftover of guilt left in the captain’s heart over the years he had wasted being too scared of this relationship. 

But, sometimes, all they got was a single night together, shared after John came back from an op. Often times, he was exhausted, bruised, and needed rest more than he needed any more adventures. This was such a case, as Gaz had informed Nikolai earlier that no one in the team had been able to get any shut eyes in the past forty hours. John was exhausted, but he was as stubborn as they came and had assured Nik that he was up for this. Right. 

A soft smile still on his lips, Nikolai bent down, kissing the naked skin of his lover’s hips, while his hands kept wandering around the lower parts of his body, his thighs so perfect under his fingers. A low groan escaped John’s throat, a quick glance confirming that his eyes were now fully closed. Not yet asleep, however, and so Nik continued, leaving kisses on his belly and ribs, hands still massaging him as best he could, soft sounds coming from John until eventually, his breathing changed, slowing down, limbs going limp. 

Nikolai smiled softly as he pulled himself up, resting next to John as he dragged a blanket on top of their naked bodies. He allowed himself, for a moment, to just observe the now asleep man next to him.

There was a sternness to John that immediately disappeared when he was sleeping, his brow relaxing, his jaw less tense, at peace, finally. Nikolai knew that his dreams wouldn’t be comforting, they never had been and probably never would be, but he was here, for him, ready to pull him closer when needed, ready to kiss the nape of his neck as his arms wrapped themselves around his shape. 

Perhaps Nik was a selfish man. He had pondered this thought many, many times in the past. To want something as much as he wanted John, to crave him like he was the only thing that mattered, it had been maddening, and still he waited. Now that John finally was his, there was nothing in this world that could pull him away from him. He had waited for so many years, that spending some time watching the other half of his heart slowly drift to sleep as they laid in bed together felt like a well-earned reward. And if that made him a selfish man, well then to hell with it. 

“Good night, John.” 

His voice was barely a whisper as his fingers brushed his lover’s hair, gently kissing his cheek. There were no reactions from John, and Nikolai allowed himself to close his eyes as well, a hand resting against John’s chest, right above his heart. There, in the quiet intimacy of the night, he could almost feel it beat under his palm, the perfect lullaby to lure him to sleep.

[somnus-lucis-caelum]

The way she laughed and moved around him. It felt so childish. And yet he liked it. It must have been years since he allowed himself to indulge in such antics. Why did she make that so easy?

Though the walk down the corridor was painted with the reality at hand again. Roran truly was the cherished little prince in that family. They spoiled him. Somnus could not even begin to imagine a boy that age not being trained and having faced some minor spats and fights outside safe castle walls already. He had done so at that age. If he recalled currently, it had been the first missions Gilgamesh had taken him on with days travelling from home.

Clearly the farmlands raised their royals differently.

Or maybe that was just a luxury for Roran and Aerith had lived a different reality.

“He teased about me, hm?”, Somnus asked, throwing a knowing sideglance to Aerith. There was a definite undertone. And he knew – after all Somnus was a little brother, too.

There was nothing he could add to her opening up about having him at her side. That was too much of a compliment, he could not repay it properly. SO Somnus kept his mouth shut and head down when they entered the chambers.

The young prince was awake. Sitting at the edge of his bed, along with his mother, who apparently was reading from a book to him. The father stood in the background, warily looking over the scene towards the door – though his expression softened when seeing Aerith, coming to draw her into a hug. Asking how she felt.

Suddenly Somnus felt a little like an intruder. He knew Aerith wanted him here, but still… this was a family. A family that was incredibly close knit.

Bowing his head, Somnus offered the dish again, this time towards the Queen. Now he felt very lucky that Aerith had him carry that one. At least he had a use like this.

“Your Majesty. I brought some baked treats for the young prince – and you all of course. And if you need anything else, just say it, I will make it possible. Rest assured your wing of the palace is secured the best. I saw to that myself.”

Aerith expected him to catch it. She wouldn't have thrown it otherwise. But the warp-reflex was the actual surprise here, her mouth dropped open around a smile as he scoffed and bowed.

She laughed a little at his echoed nickname for her, and her hands clasped behind her back as she continued to watch him. While Somnus side-stepped in a quick and graceful movement, she dipped at her waist in a 'bow' of her own.

"Uh-oh, he's strong and fast!" she commented, falling into step to walk alongside him.

Truthfully, she wanted Somnus to be around her family. If they were right, he was about to be deeply involved with them anyway, and after this morning... well, he had earned a place of respect. He was no longer just the dutiful son acting in his kingdom's best interest. He had gone out of his way to protect the youngest of them.

"Never." she answered with a shake of her head. "Roran has been gifted a golden life, full of warmth and happiness. Today... that world view was shattered."

It was as simple as that. Even if a guard stood to protect him, his eyes had been opened. It didn't mean his safety was absolute. After all, guards were men too, they bled, they fell, even the best of the best could have an unlucky moment.

"I'm hoping your presence might give him a little spark again. Even just a small one. He has been teasing relentlessly about Prince Somnus, and if you're in his room maybe he will feel inspired to pick up that habit again." He had been doing what little brother's did best.

"I don't feel as hopeless, having you at my side. I thought I was failing because I couldn't figure out how to uplift him again. But here you are with a pile of baked treats."

Aerith glanced at him with a quick little pursed-lip smile. She was grateful for the company. Slowing to a stop, she politely knocked on the next chamber door. Roran's room was sandwiched between his parents and his Uncle's, though she doubted he would have a moment alone for weeks to come.

[ecstarry]

'Kiss and Stab' microfic for @v7lgar & @del-stars

“Will you stop playing with that?” Regulus took away the small knife Barty had been playing with for the past hour. 

It was fine at first, before they had both chugged an alarming amount of beer. Not something Regulus had planned on doing, but finals were over and break was just around the corner. 

Barty never needed an excuse. 

“I don’t trust you with such a dangerous weapon,” Barty teased. He pushed Regulus against the brick wall just outside the pub, pressing the blade slightly against Regulus’ tender skin. 

It was a Tuesday, no one else was around that late at night. He expected Regulus to push him, huff, tell him to piss off, yet Regulus was not only silent but blushing. 

That was not the first time they had been this close, not alone and not even in public. Barty didn’t move, getting a reaction out of Regulus was uncommon, he needed to understand what had turned Regulus’ cheeks such a divine hue of pink. 

Regulus cleared his throat, his gaze traveling to the knife pressed against his neck, just above his collarbone. 

Fuck. 

“Really? A fucking knife kink?” 

Regulus grinned at him, clearly too drunk to care. He opened his mouth and stuck his tongue out. An invitation. 

Barty, just as pissed and with a bulge forming underneath his pants, followed directions. He took the tip of the knife and traced the outlines of Regulus’ lips, he watched adoringly as the chest of the man in front of him kept rising and falling, almost panting. 

“You get so-” Barty stopped in a halt as Regulus traced with his tongue the same path around his lips the knife had just traveled. 

Barty felt lightheaded, all his blood went down his fucking cock as Regulus continued the show. Barty had wet dreams that started just like this, but nothing compared to the sight of Regulus Black letting out the hottest, sweetest noises as his pleading eyes asked for Barty to press the knife directly against his tongue. 

He was weak, and horny, and fucking desperate. Regulus fucking moaned, right against the metal, the noise went straight to Barty’s dick. 

“Give it to me.” Like an obedient dog, Barty obeyed and handed it immediately. He didn’t care what Regulus wanted to do with it, he just needed to touch him. 

Regulus stepped on top of Barty’s shoes, grabbed his chin and pulled Barty’s face down, “Kiss me.” 

Barty’s hands were greedy, he grabbed Regulus like he had always wanted. They wandered under his shirt, he wanted to remember this moment, he desperately tried to be present. It might’ve been the beer, maybe the power trip of holding a knife against Regulus, or just the feeling of Regulus fitting perfectly between his hands, but Barty was losing his goddamn mind. 

His mouth traveled from Regulus’ lips to his ear, down to his neck, nibbling on the skin, wanting to mark him, even if just for one night. 

“Barty,” Regulus whined. He leaned into Barty, his arms around his neck, begging to have him closer. 

“Yeah?” He pulled back slightly, he wanted to see the lust behind Regulus' gaze. 

“More.” 

“Reg.” Barty was trying for once to not fuck everything up, he didn’t want to be a mistake. But Regulus wanted him, finally. 

Regulus took out the knife from his pocket and pressed it against Barty’s collarbone. “Please.” 

“Jesus fucking Christ, I get the knife kink now.” He tried to catch his breath. “But we can’t, Reg.”

Yet Regulus pressed harder, a dot of red coming out of Barty’s skin. He stayed still, too lost in whatever was happening to stop Regulus as he brushed his fingers against the wound he had just made, collected the blood with his finger and licked it. 

“Let’s go.” 

“Mhm.” 

He had no more fight in him. He wanted Regulus and he wanted him now. 

[deathbyathousandspiders]

death of a hero. ₂

mcu!peter parker x fem!stark!reader | boy in the bubble part two.

IN WHICH after getting attacked, you find out that your dad & peter have kept spider–man’s identity a secret.

author's note — highly recommend reading part one first!! this cured my writer's block !! part three coming soon!!! :)

WARNINGS (18+ MDNI) — hurt reader [physically/emotionally], swearing, mentions of blood, a flashback to homecoming, lots & lots & lots of angst.

read part one here.

gif found here.

✨masterlist.✨

3.4k.

Never in your life did you think you’d be targeted and attacked, then be smiling by the end of the night. You couldn’t fight the small grin touching your lips, couldn’t stop the butterflies that numbed each wound still scarring your body. 

Somehow, despite it all, Peter’s words gave you something to hold onto, something to keep you going—something hopeful. It gave you something to rewrite the painful narrative that your attacker had spat at you just an hour earlier. 

“What a weak, pathetic excuse for a Stark.”

“You’ve seen the unthinkable, are still going, and you think you’re weak? Impossible.”

Once you finally got to the stairs to shower, you tried to swing your leg up, immediately met with a harsh reminder of how bad your bruises would be tomorrow. 

A wince parted your lips, sparking from the ache in your right hip and the direct strike it sent to the wound on your torso. 

Perhaps you needed Peter’s help after all. 

Taking a breath, you felt less hesitant than before to ask for help. It wasn’t like you had anything else to hide—you were tattered and torn up, topless and sticky with blood. 

Besides, you were used to walking with the weight of the wounds, at this point. You cut the distance to the kitchen in a matter of slow seconds. 

“Whoever attacked her tonight planned this.” Peter’s words made you pause just outside the entryway, hidden behind the wall just beyond. You blinked a bit, immediately feeling the weight of their conversation. “It wasn’t by chance, she was targeted–” 

“You don’t know that—” Even as he cut Peter off, your dad’s response was cut short. 

“And you don’t either!” Both of the boys in the kitchen held something urgent to their words; the same sense of urgency that laced the undertones between them all evening. 

Whatever conversation you were overhearing, you knew in your bones that they didn’t want you to hear it. 

Sucks for them. 

Peter continued: “The way she’s acting.. Something’s off about what happened.” Your blood froze to ice at the sentence. “And I think she deserves to know why I wasn’t there to defend her tonight.”

Thick silence swelled in the room, and you suddenly feared that your racing heartbeat would interrupt it. You had to remind yourself to breathe, and remind yourself to be quiet. 

As tempted as you were to step in and ask questions, you knew that whatever they were keeping from you was more likely to be discovered from where you were. 

Somehow, this was something they wanted to hide from you. The secret, whatever it was, made the air around you feel slimmer and heavy all at once. It sent your thoughts into a spiral, and an urge to question the two people closest to you. 

“Look, kid. I don’t blame you for what happened tonight.” Tony took words from you that you hadn’t even known how to phrase to Peter yet. It sent a twinge to your heart, draped your panic in sympathy for him. 

“I know.” You could tell Peter needed to hear the words, even if he didn’t know how to admit it. 

“As much as I agree with your conspiracy theories on Y/N’s attacker, I don’t know if coming clean about everything will solve this.” 

Something sunk in you, deflated your spirits. It hurt that they’d hid this from you—whatever it was—and had been lying for God knows how long. 

You could hear the jab in Peter’s own optimism when he spoke up again. “Then when do you plan to tell her?” At least, he was trying to come clean. 

“I don’t know..” Your dad was honest, and sullen about it. It only added to your confusion. 

Perhaps, they weren’t going to tell you ever. Maybe if you just revealed yourself and asked your own questions, you’d actually get somewhere. 

Peeling yourself off the wall and taking a few steps into frame, both Peter and your dad were completely oblivious to you. 

Despite how you stepped into view, they remained focused on the conversation, and your dad continued. “I’ll tell you what: you tell me how you’d suggest telling Y/N you’re Spider–Man, and I’ll consider it–”

The whole world stopped moving. 

“Peter’s what?”

You could’ve thrown up at the realization, at how cold and hollow the room suddenly became. The secret was out, and the quick and wide eyes that fell to you told you just how vital this secret was. 

Peter was Spider–Man. 

Even as you stared at him, eyes as wide as his, you couldn’t shake it. Your best friend was Spider–Man, working alongside your father and found family. 

The two of you held eye contact, trying to read the other. You could read the remorse and apology and panic swelling in his wide–eyed stare, but you hoped that some of the anger building in your own was silently translated regardless. 

Your dad tried to clear his throat, tried to slice through the rousing tension between the two of you, but you didn’t break from it in the slightest. 

“Dinner’s ready.” Tony tried to make a joke. To joke at a time like this, as if he wasn’t an accomplice. As if he wasn’t keeping this from you, arguably more than Peter had been. 

It was the last straw you’d been offering, swiped from your hands and dissipating with your patience. 

You scoffed, tears finally finding your eyes. The heat of them was boiled by rage, and you didn’t have the decency to hide it. “Fuck off.” 

The room was too hard to stand in. You walked away, reminded of why you were even standing in the kitchen in the first place. 

Pain itched its way up your priority list, but you didn’t care; finding a way up the stairs was the least of your worries. You were more concerned with how quickly you could get away. 

Especially as you could hear Peter calling after you, following the path you were carving between you. 

“Y/N!” He spoke your name like a plea, like it would somehow apologize for all the dirt you’d uncovered. The sound of his voice, however, only seemed to drive you further from him. 

It split your heart into more pieces than you knew how to count. 

You already battled the insecurity of being weak. A weak, pathetic excuse for a Stark. With all the time you spent in the compound, with your friends and family, you were one of the only powerless people among them. This whole time, you thought Peter understood. 

You thought the insecurity was shared, reciprocated. 

Clearly, you were wrong and an idiot. You were the only one powerless among them. 

It made you feel so stupid; to see all the inside jokes tossed over your head, to see every stupid excuse he made thrown back in your face, and he had the audacity to be sorry?

Damn right, he should be. 

Peter’s touch felt like sandpaper to your skin as he reached for your hand. You yanked it out, not bothering to turn around. 

You tried to be strong and suck up the pain, wanted more than anything to run up the stairs and lock yourself in your room—two quick steps up the stairwell and the adrenaline wore off. You slowed your pace, fighting off the wincing, and wanting anything but to ask for help from Spider–Man. 

“Y/N, please.” His voice broke, and you felt sinister to think him deserving of it. “Please, I– I wanted to tell you, I promise–“

He must’ve been surprised when you turned around, at the speed you pivoted, at how intense your expression came across, because he startled. 

Your eyes held no response to the hot tears flooding from them, only holding space for the anger and hurt you didn’t have the energy to hide from him. 

“Promise?” The word came out whispered, threatening to break just as his words did. “You promise, just like how we promised to tell each other everything?” You saw each stab of each word and exactly where it hit on him, especially as your voice grew in volume. “Just like how you promised I wasn’t weak, when clearly, you know damn well how ironic that is!”

Twin tears slid down the length of his face, and you caught the subtle tremble in his bottom lip that he tried so hard to hide. “Please..” Now he was the one whispering, and you wish it sounded as satisfying as you wanted it to. 

“Don’t fucking sit there and act like you’re the hero here, Peter..” You couldn’t help the growl, couldn’t help the distaste inking down your body. Sure, you’d been hit with a knife just an hour prior in the evening, but you didn’t feel stabbed in the gut until now. “Don’t act like you understand shit about how I’m feeling right now!”

From just beyond, Tony started walking over, stepping quickly. “Hang on, Kid.” He cut in, stopping just a few paces behind Peter. “Don’t blame Peter for this.” His words practically turned up the heat on your burning rage. It was an effort to keep from boiling over. “I was the one who told him to keep quiet.”

The shakiest breath you’d taken all night forced its way down your throat. You finally pulled your eyes from Peter, watching your own father flinch at just how hurt you were. “No, you were the one who decided to be selfish!”

The room had never been so quiet, even the walls and the city beyond hushed to listen. 

“I don’t care who you thought you were saving here, but it wasn’t me.” Perhaps rage wasn’t the word you should use to describe the venom dripping off your words. You were seething, a mixture of betrayal and downright distraught. 

“I am not useless.” You felt the need to emphasize; to you, or the two faulty in front of you, no one could tell. “I may be the only powerless person in the fuck ass Avengers, but at least I’m fucking honest.”

When you met Peter’s eyes again, you almost couldn’t keep your composure. Maybe he was breaking apart just as quickly as you were, but you didn’t put in effort to hold room for an apology for him. You didn’t see the need to give one at all. 

“I’m sorry..” He couldn’t bring his voice above a whisper, above the tremble shaking each breath he took. And watching the way your father’s posture craned in sympathy to it finally gave you a cue to leave. You couldn’t take it anymore. 

You glanced between both of them, still ignoring the consistent stream of tears dripping off your nose and chin. “You both fucking should be.”

Holding your head high, you made your way up the stairs, pausing three steps up your trek when you heard a singular step in your direction. 

“Don’t fucking follow me.”

And you didn’t look back. 

The second you shut and locked your bedroom door, unshakable sobs spilled from your throat and choked you dry. You had never felt so isolated, so alone, and so pained. 

Truly, you did not know how it would get better from here, and all you wanted was to be held. 

You didn’t even know who you'd talk to about this. This betrayal stretched across every person you trusted, further than your eyesight. 

It was stupid, and you blamed yourself, but all you wanted to do was talk to Peter. 

Maybe not about it or to confront it right then, but you suddenly missed him and his support. You felt like that had been stripped away from you. 

You weren't sure how to trust him anymore, let alone anyone else who hid this from you.

It didn’t help that you replayed countless upon countless interactions—with your father, with Ned, and with Peter Parker Spider–Man himself. 

It reminded you of the last time you were mad at Peter, three years prior. 

At the Washington Monument. 

You remember him flaking on the academic decathlon, and flaking the night before. You were upset because he was obviously hiding something and he wouldn’t tell you what. 

“You promised we’d hang out tonight.” You remember calling after him, walking half the length of the hotel hallway after him, too. “I feel like I haven’t seen you all week!”

Peter was a pro at walking backwards, then and now, and as you always knew him to be. Even as you knew him as a klutz, even as it led him to keep walking away from you. “I’ll be back soon. I promise!”

It felt unfair to him to get frustrated with him, but you were. You were upset. “What? So your promises mean nothing?” 

That got him to stop. 

“What? No!” Defense, immediately. His eyes displayed more apology than his lips did, taking steps towards you. “I just.. I have to go, and I can explain it later–”

Your head shook at him. Whatever sparked you to feel upset had been growing for a while. It had been growing since he started ditching you a few months prior. “That’s what you said last time.” There was hurt in your voice, and you know he heard it. 

“But I–”

“We promised to tell each other everything.” You recalled your childhood together, your friendship before you started growing up. The two of you had known each other since elementary school, so changes like this was inevitable. It wasn't fair to hold him to the same standards you used to. “But if you want to go, don’t expect me to be buddy-buddy when you get back.”

You remember how it felt to walk away, but you remembered how it felt to hear him leave even more. That was harmful. 

He was entitled to grow up, just as you were, but the shifty way he started growing distant from you got you overthinking. 

It got you nervous that maybe he was seeing someone, and that hurt more than anything else. Especially that he was hiding it from you. 

What sucked the most was that Peter wasn’t back soon, or even that night. 

In fact, he wasn’t even at the academic decathlon. 

Part of you was relieved to get space from him, seeing how difficult all these feelings were to process; another part worried about him, but every time your anxiety would fester, something would serve a reminder of why you were upset in the first place. 

You won the decathlon without him. As you should.

After that, your team went to the Washington Monument, and Ned swore that Peter would meet you all there. 

“Look!” Ned tried to convince you, tried to break your unamused expression. “His location says he’s almost here.” And the phone screen he flashed at you proved honesty. Peter was minutes away. 

Before you could muster a response, Ned’s screen changed, and Peter was calling him. 

There was an awkward exchange of glances between the two of you before Ned answered the call and you walked through the metal detectors. 

“Peter, are you okay?” You couldn’t help but eavesdrop. You missed a phrase or two while security patted down your blazer. All you caught was Ned muttering a subtle “I covered for you,” and then Liz Allen taking the phone from his hands. 

Something hollow carved into your stomach at the sight, and you began to speculate whether Liz was the girl he was sneaking off with or not. 

You didn’t wait to find out. You walked right into the elevator, joining the rest of your decathlon group. 

You didn’t remember much about the trip up the elevator, all you remember was light emitting out of Ned’s backpack and something radioactive blasting right into the roof of the cart. 

Suddenly, with trembling limbs and a newfound panic, your squabble with Peter Parker seemed more than minuscule. Regret was quick to fill that hollowing pit in your gut. 

You’d blacked out a lot of those scarce moments in the elevator. But you remembered when it was safe enough to move, the security guard began to open the hatch at the top of the elevator cart, and one by one help your classmates out. 

It wasn’t until there were four of you left in the elevator that it finally fell down the shaft towards your demise. There, in that Monument, you would die with Ned, Liz, and your teacher, Mister Harrington, you were sure of it. 

You’d never forget the relief you’d felt at the sight of red and blue rushing toward you, plummeting quicker than you were, and webbing your way to safety. 

It felt odd to look back on, knowing now that it was Peter who pulled that elevator up to your safety. How you were only concerned then with apologizing to Peter Parker, who glanced at you there from beneath that mask, completely unbeknownst to you. 

Once he’d gotten you up to the top of the Monument, Ned was the first to leap out to safety, then Mister Harrington. The two of them helped Liz get out, and to your luck, just as you took a step forward, the webs above you snapped. 

You and Spider–Man fell with a blood curdling scream breaking through you. 

“NO!!” He called after you, and quickly shot a web up to the roof again. His other arm reached out toward you, webbing your wrist rather quickly, keeping you from falling any further. 

“It’s okay. You’re okay– I got you. You're okay..” He told you, his tone as gentle and soft as you knew it to be; yet, not a single thought crossed your mind that it was Peter Parker. 

You shakily dangled beneath him as he tugged you up from that web. You fought to look up at him, to keep yourself from looking down; you fought to keep the tears at bay as the shock flooded from your system. 

The second your hands touched, he pulled you up and into him. You wasted no time before wrapping your arms around him, hugging him for dear life. And it made sense, now, why he felt so familiar—why his warmth was so comforting, and why his arm around your waist felt like it belonged there. 

He held you securely, lulling those reassurances to you, pulling the two of you up to safety at the top of that Monument. 

Just before he set you down, you held him tighter. “Pe–Peter!” You gasped, and felt every muscle beneath your hold tense. 

Now, you knew why. 

You pulled back from his arms, “Peter Parker, my– my best friend! He was on his way over here.” Your voice shook as you explained, but watching him carefully set you on the ground helped to steady yourself a little. “Can you make sure– Could you make sure that he’s okay?”

Looking back, the reason why Spider–Man gaped at you so long must’ve been Peter contemplating whether or not to tell you who he was right then and there. He stared at you, beneath that mask, for what felt like minutes. 

He gave a singular, upside down, nod. “I can do that, ma’am.” And his thick, Bronx, accent threw you off more than you wanted to admit. 

Then he fell down the empty shaft of the elevator. 

You’d never forget the moment he found you after that. 

You had just gotten out of the Monument. With a shaky hand, you went through your phone to track Peter’s location. It said he was a matter of meters from you, but you couldn’t spot him in the crowd. 

Just as you went to ask Ned, Peter’s voice hollered out, calling your name. 

Both of you turned in his direction, the crowd of people parting for him as he ran over to you, catching you in a bone–crushing hug. One of his hands cradled your head into his chest, and the other kept itself snug around your waist, just like Spider–Man had earlier. "I'm so glad you're okay.." He whispered it into your hairline, just for you to keep.

The world washed away in the arms of Peter Parker. You couldn’t help but wrap your arms around him, too, hugging him effortlessly closer. Apologies from your argument the night before fell from your lips, and he also followed suit. 

You recalled that memory as something that defined how you and Peter operated—no matter what, you couldn’t stay mad at him. 

You would always find a way to forgive him. 

Now, remembering the incident was a bit more haunting. There was no telling how you and Peter would come back from this, nor just how long you’d go without each other.

And you didn't think Spider–Man would get you out of it, this time.

tag–list: @yourfavoritefangirl @inkedeye2345 @wxnterwidow333 @generalmoonpolice @elianamarie-blog

comment for the part three tag list;)

[starredblood]

NOWHERE GIRL

PART FOUR

kang sae-byeok x fem!reader

synopsis: after facing an intense altercation, it leads you to another one of sae-byeok’s interrogation.

wc. 1.8k

warnings: homophobia, acts of violence, smoking, angst

(nowhere girl masterlist)

The sun was right above your head, scorching it. The brightness of the sun blinds your vision as you make your way to the dining hall. Although everyone around you couldn’t stop talking about how hot the weather is today, your mind couldn’t stop thinking about your brief encounter with Sae-byeok two nights ago.

You kept replaying your time with her at the convenience store. It was an uneventful experience funnily enough; you two sat down in front of the store window quietly eating your food. It seems like there is nothing to analyze about this exchange, but to you, you liked it because of the sheer tranquility. No talking which meant no bickering, you both just sat down sharing the serenity that comes with midnight. You haven’t felt that much peace this past month. A part of you hopes to get that feeling again soon.

Just as you turn a corner into the alleyway you feel yourself bump into a person twice your size.

“Sorry.” you quickly apologize to whoever you collided into and try to usher around them only for them to block you with their body. Eyebrows furrowed, you peer up to see who’s preventing you from walking away.

The guy who is blocking you is tall and buff, freshly buzzed cut, tattoos littering around both his forearms and a cigarette between his teeth.

“You’re Yoon’s friend, right?” he asks, his voice exuding mockery. Two of his friends appear behind him like a couple of bodyguards. You scowl but your mouth refuses to open to talk.

“Yoon told me she let you sleep over at her dorm because—I don’t know you got kicked out of the house or something? Do you mind telling me and my friends why that is, hm?”

“You know the answer to that. Don’t mock me.” you whisper, voice trembling. Your little act of bravery isn’t working.

“Don’t talk to me like that, you fucking pervert.” he sneers. “You came up with that bullshit excuse of getting thrown out by your parent’s house so you can watch Yoon and her roommates change.”

“What?” you gape.

“That’s the problem with people like you…Well, I can’t in good conscience let you go around harassing women for your sick pleasure. Can’t I?” he looks at his friends who grunt in approval.

“Fuck you I never did any of that shit!”

You try walking backwards to escape the situation only to have the guy grip on your arm and squeezing it tightly. The grip he had on you was so tight you were beginning to feel afraid that he might actually rip your arm off of your body. Tears brim from the corner of your eyes and you begin to cry out for help.

“Stop acting so innocent now. You know what you did—and we are the only ones who can fight this injustice your inflicting upon people.”

“Let me go!” you cry, basically plead. “I never did anything you said. P—Please.”

Everything around you suddenly turned white and when you got your field of vision back to normal suddenly you were on the floor. Realization quickly crept up—you just got punched by the main guy, hard. As his friends roar with laughter, he uses one hand to pull you back up by your collar.

“I don’t like liars.” he tuts and with his free hand he grabs the cigarette between his teeth. “I don’t have anywhere to light off this cigarette.”

“Really?” one of his friends speak up, faking an act of innocence. “You got something right here.” he points at you.

They all begin to laugh again while you’re still squirming and hyperventilating. Your vision becomes blurry as you whip your head around hoping that a bystander notices you are in danger and come to rescue you but you see no one. The only thing you can do is think quickly or this situation will turn out even uglier.

You take a deep breath and look in the direction of the three guys, past their shoulders. “Officer right over here!” you shout to no one in the distance.

The guys all whip their heads behind them in fright, thinking they just got caught. That’s when you use your free hand to snatch the cigarette from the main guy and press the burning end of the cigarette on the hand that’s gripping yours. Instead of letting go though, the guy yelps and trips on air causing you both to collapse. You quickly spit in his face, making him flinch back and shout curses at you. He was cursing so loudly that his own spit struck your face.

You manage to wiggle your way out of his grasp. As you crawl away from him, you grab the pack of cigarettes that fell from his pockets then absolutely book it.

Run, run, run is all your mind is thinking. Run, run, run and don’t look back for a second.

✿・・───・・✦・・───・・✿

Sae-byeok thought it was nice of her to spend her only free time to walk to the convenience store with you the other night. After that quiet excursion, she expected you to start coming back to the apartment at a reasonable time.

But no one, not Sae-byeok, not Cheol, or even Ji-yeong has seen nor heard from you today.

Before Ji-yeong pointed fingers at Sae-byeok again she hurriedly explained that she actually settled things down with you, which was a half-lie half-truth situation. Of course, she didn’t buy it. In order to prove herself, Sae-byeok joined Ji-yeong who sat outside the apartment to wait for you. But it was almost one in the morning and Ji-yeong had work in the morning so she dialed your phone one last time, if you didn’t answer she’d go back to the apartment and report you as missing the next night. However, Sae-byeok decided to wait a little longer seeing as she doesn’t have to do anything but drop off Cheol at school tomorrow.

Thirty minutes later, Sae-byeok watches a shadowy figure walk in the direction of the apartment building. She holds her breath, anticipating it was you. When the person got closer she saw the familiar portfolio tote and laptop, that’s when she knew.

Sae-byeok’s face morphs into confusion when notices how you were stumbling, like it was hard for you to walk.

“Are you alright?” she asks. You just kept trudging until you made it to the staircases where you inevitably sat down. Slowly, Sae-byeok makes her way towards you. Something was off she could sense it.

“Yeah.” you say barley above whisper. But she isn’t buying it. She sits beside you, trying to look at your face but you look the other way before she can notice something. “What’re you doing?”

“Are you sick or something?”

“No, it’s just—hey!”

Sae-byeok pushes strands of hair back and caught the purple shiner imprinted on your cheek. You gasp and clumsily cover yourself again.

“Shit.” she says breathily. “What happened?”

You hug your chest and stare down at your knees in shame. Sae-byeok of all people shouldn’t have seen you like this. Now there’s no way around this.

“Some guys from my school cornered me in the alleyway.” you reply weakly.

“Why?”

“Long story.”

Sae-byeok doesn’t pry any further. You didn’t tell her some bullshit excuse like slipping and hitting a table. You actually sounded…truthful?

Besides, she can sense you’re still in pain and talking about the reason why you’re in pain isn’t going to help you. So, she rises to sprint back to the apartment. You wonder if she’ll come back with Ji-yeong so they can get an answer out of you. Instead, she comes back with an ice pack, two pain killers pills, and a bottle of water and quietly passes it off to you.

“Thanks.” you mumble and swallow the pain killers while pressing the ice pack on your cheek, wincing. You both sit in silence like this for a minute, that’s when you start to feel your chest grow heavy. “…Is the bruise that bad?”

Your vulnerability and pleading made Sae-byeok’s heart sink. She won’t admit it—but something about how fragile you sounded reminded her of a younger Sae-byeok, back when she first came to South Korea.

“Yeah.”

Sae-byeok doesn’t approve of your attire. Only because even though it’s spring time, the night breeze is still cool enough to make someone shiver. You were currently wearing a green frilly skirt that sat above your knees paired with an oversized graphic shirt. The scrape on your knee was still dry with blood, you kept looking at it and tried pulling your skirt to cover it, it was obvious you weren’t comfortable.

“Where are you going?” Sae-byeok asks when you got back up and started walking away.

“I don’t wish to bother you so I’ll just be at the twenty four hour cafe that’s a few blocks away.”

Sae-byeok doesn’t get you. She feels like she’s about to go mad.

“Hey, what’s your deal?” Sae-byeok asks. You pause walking and spin on your heels to look at her. “Could you quit being reckless?”

You don’t understand her. Sae-byeok isn’t obligated to look after you. You actually feel quite bad for making her stay up this late.

“I’m not—I don’t think I am.” you murmur and lower the ice pack cooling your bruised cheek.

“You are.” she says bluntly. “You’ve been acting suspicious from the start, you keep running away and now all of a sudden you came with bruises and now that I’ve seen them you try to run away again?”

That’s the most you heard her speak. You don’t know if you should feel honored or embarrassed.

Sae-byeok stands up, her guards are up you just know it. Her posture straightens and her dark sharp eyes bore right into your skull like she’s trying to get into your head. Your breath hitches so you take a few steps backwards.

“I’m trying not to disturb you more than I already have these past few days. I feel like I’m breaking everything I touch so...” you trail off. Sae-byeok remains immovable.

Apart from the suspicious bruising littering your body, it hits Sae-byeok that she has nothing on you. She can’t risk living dangerously anymore now that she has Cheol under her care, but could you really threaten their way of living?

“You’re limping.”

“I should be fine these are my comfiest sneakers.” you say. “I’ll be back in an hour. I promise.”

Sae-byeok rolls her eyes. “I have to come with you now.” she says like it is the most obvious option. “Or Ji-yeong will blame me again.”

You have a feeling that she’s hard headed when it comes to decision making. So silently, you let her trail behind you as you make your ways towards the cafe in the brisk of midnight.

🏷️: @monroesturnns @knfthxv @jumpedthenfell-13 @peelover25 @karli6

[downthe-f4ndom-rabbith0le]

Always Been You (Dick Grayson x Reader) - Chapter 10

Always Been You (Dick Grayson x Reader) Reader Insert: she/her pronouns Word Count: 4806 Warnings: death, violence, fighting, bloody wounds, angst, infuriatingly oblivious love interest, slowburn Spoilers: Young Justice Seasons 1-3 plot partially, but it ended in 2022 so catch up.

Y/N Prince - miracle daughter of Wonder Woman and Steve Trevor - and Dick Grayson - first adoptive son of the Batman himself - have been best friends since day one. They went to school together, trained together, kept each other's alter ego secret from everyone else, and they founded the Young Justice alongside their friends together. 

But as time progressed, Y/N and Dick grew up and Y/N found herself wanting more than friendship with Dick. But he never seemed to indicate that he reciprocated her feelings. And when Wally died and Dick abandoned the team, Y/N realised he never would. So she heads to the one place she knows will help her become a stronger warrior so that one day she can take her mother's place: Themyscira.

Two years after his leave, Dick reaches out to his old friends to help him with a mission. But when he finds out Y/N left too, he chases after her in the hopes to bring her back.

However, when the two finally reunite, it isn't as warm as he hopes. Not to mention Themyscira becomes under siege as they go to war against Echidna, the Mother of Monsters in Greek Mythology, and her army of monstrous children.

Will Dick and Y/N be able to put their past behind them and save the Amazonians' homeland? Or will they fall, unable to tell one another their true feelings?

~~~

'Y/N.'

Y/N didn't look back, too busy focusing on what was in front of her as she made her way from the empty courtyard towards the palace. Her armour clinked; her footsteps bounced from pillar to pillar; the screams of her fallen sisters still rung in her ears.

'Y/N, wait a second.'

As she made her way inside, Y/N found the halls filled with the wounded, bleeding, dismembered, many crying and many covering their fallen in respectful white cloths. Many turned to her as she walked by them, red-rimmed eyes pleading at her.

'Princess,' they murmured as she walked past them by way of acknowledgement, but also with misplaced hope. All Y/N could do was keep walking but she could never escape their sorrowful eyes, their bloodied hands they held out to her.

This is all my fault. This is all my fault.

'Y/N, hold up.'

So she turned her head forward and increased her pace, avoiding anymore contact from the helpless and damned because what could she offer them but more empty promises and death?

The cold reality that the Amazons might not win against Echidna settled cold and deep inside her, and that spurred her on towards the Strategy Room.

'Y/N!'

Y/N was finally forced to a halt when a hand wrapped around her wrist and pulled her to a stop. Having finally stopped, Y/N noticed they were at the top of the same set of stairs that they'd argued with each other on that second night Dick was on Themyscira.

Begrudgingly, she turned around to face Dick, who looked up at her with concern and worry in his eyes. 'Hey, he said softly, taking a step upwards. 'You okay?'

'I don't have time for this,' Y/N said with a strained voice and tried pulling away. She wanted to be anywhere but there in that moment.

'Yes, you do,' Dick insisted, tightening his hold on her wrist and forcing her to face him again. 'I mean, come on, you just saw your friends die before you. You have to be feeling some sort of way.'

'Yes, thank you for reminding me of my failures, Dick,' Y/N spat back. 'Thank you for reminding me that I just killed all those women and young girls. That I lead them to their deaths and did nothing to save them!'

Dick finally let go of her wrist, but his disbelieving gaze held her in place. She never could escape those big blue eyes of his.

'It's not your fault, Y/N,' he said slowly, carefully. 'You're not the one that killed them.'

'Didn't I though?' The faces of the fallen flashed behind her eyes, and the begging of the young girl pounded in her ears. 'I incited this war with Echidna; I made those women believe we could win, that they would live. And when they begged for my help, begged for that power from last night...'

Y/N hiccuped as she felt tears well in her eyes. But she swallowed her sobs, held the tears back. She had no right to cry, to feel sad. She wasn't among those slaughtered and burned alive.

She wasn't dead.

Once her resolve had returned, Y/N said to Dick in a clinical voice, 'I refuse to lead anymore Amazons to their deaths. There will be no more bloodshed from our side.'

'But how are you going to ensure that, unless...' Realisation dawned on Dick's face and Y/N hated the guilt that arose in her from the sight. 'No, you can't just give up. You can't just surrender to Echidna.'

'What other choice do I have, Dick?' Y/N argued. 'There is no defeating a hydra of that size and ability without losing hundreds more. There is no defeating Echidna when she can just summon more of her monstrous children. I was a fool to think otherwise and it has cost us hundreds of innocent and good warriors.'

'You can choose to fight!' Dick said, his tone exasperated. 'You can choose to stand your ground and defend your home, your family.'

'At what cost, though? I have led too many to their deaths already. Calliope was injured greatly just now and I couldn't stand it if... if you...' Y/N didn't even want to finish the thought, so bit her tongue and looked away.

Dick remained silent for a moment and Y/N hated to think of what he might be thinking. 'If there is anything I have learnt from being here, it is that an Amazon would rather die than give up.'

It might've been the truth, but all Y/N felt was hurt and betrayal. 'Are you saying I'm not an Amazon?' she asked pointedly.

'Not a true one at the moment, no,' Dick answered.

'How dare you!' Y/N stepped closer to Dick until her finger was so close to his chin she could feel his haggard breath on it. 'I am the Princess of Themyscira. I am doing what is best for my people to ensure their survival!'

'At what cost, though?' Dick asked, seemingly unbothered by her finger. 'You would abandon your values and thousands of years worth of Amazon glory and sacrifice in one moment of fear?'

'What, like you abandoned the team when you were scared?'

Dick's face darkened at the low jab, but Y/N couldn't care. She was hurting, and she would make him hurt too.

Y/N dropped her finger and took one step closer. They were eye level now despite Dick being the step down from the landing. 'You don't get to judge me, Grayson,' Y/N hissed, never breaking eye contact with him. 'I am doing what is in my people's best interests the best way I know how to right now. And if you can't get around that, then I suggest you swim your way back to the mainland and pray you don't get eaten because you are of no further use to me.'

They glared at each other for a few moments longer, both of them breathing laboriously. Y/N knew whoever broke first would concede the fight and Y/N was sick of losing to Richard "Dick" Grayson.

Eventually, Dick looked away defeated and Y/N released a small sigh of relief.

'That settles it then,' she murmured, then turned to continue her journey to the Strategy Room.

'If you think you can strike a deal with Echidna that will spare the Amazons, then that is what makes you a fool,' Dick called out to her just before she turned the corner, his words tainted by anger and disappointment.

Y/N paused at the corner, frozen by the implication of his words. Coward. Pathetic. Weak.

If only he knew this was all for him too, she thought as she turned to face him one last time.

'Call me what you want,' she said weakly. 'I don't find any merit in the words of a hypocrite.'

It was a low blow, she knew, and it twisted something inside her when she saw Dick's face drop with shame and betrayal. There was no going back now, though. And so she took her injured heart and rounded the corner, leaving Dick standing wounded on the steps for a second time.

Once she rounded another corner, Y/N finally allowed her tears to fall. She allowed herself to feel her guilt, to feel her grief. Hopelessness and shame threatened to swap her at the thought of what she was going to do.

But what other choice did she have?

She couldn't answer that question, as she arrived at the doors to the Strategy Room. Y/N took in a deep breath and dried her eyes as best as possible before opening the doors.

Upon entering, she found the other generals except for Calliope standing around the round map table, her grandmother among them. Their discussions paused as they saw her, and by their expressions she didn't look to be in a good state. Y/N went to speak, went to bring up her warrior facade so that she may address them, but she couldn't do it.

The silence broke when Queen Hippolyta said softly, 'Everybody, please excuse me and my granddaughter. Now.'

The generals rushed to leave, all of them giving Y/N a gentle pat on her shoulders in slight comfort as they did. Y/N didn't respond. She didn't take her eyes off her grandmother, even when the doors closed and it was just them.

Slowly, Queen Hippolyta made her way around the table to stand in front of Y/N. Y/N only realised she was shaking when her grandmother gently took her hands into her own. Only then did she looked down to her grandmother.

'I sense a heavy burden has fallen upon you,' Queen Hippolyta said, her tone sad. 'What is it that troubles you, my dear?'

'I fear we will not survive this war, Grandmother,' Y/N admitted, her words strained as she resisted crying again. 'Echidna... I was too bold to think we could fight a god.'

Queen Hippolyta lead the two of them to a nearby lounge where they sat and held each other's hands. Y/N was grateful for the reprieve on her legs. She hadn't realised how tired she was until then.

'So, what do you plan on doing next?' Queen Hippolyta asked.

Y/N took a deep breath before explaining. 'I plan to confront Echidna... and make a deal with her to spare us.' Her grandmother's face darkened with offence and just as she opened her mouth to protest, Y/N interrupted. 'And before you argue, yes I know that this is the coward's choice. But I see no other way for the Amazons to survive unless we call for some kind of truce.'

'And what do you plan to offer her in order to achieve this?' Queen Hippolyta huffed with indignation.

'Myself,' Y/N answered. 'I will offer my life up so that she spares everyone else's. Gods love their deals.'

'Yes they do. But they also love breaking them,' Queen Hippolyta said, her tone frustrated. 'What's to stop Echidna from killing the rest of us when you are killed, huh? surely not their conscious, or should I say lack there-of. Who will be there to stop her from wiping us when she wipes you from this earth completely?'

Y/N went to argue but found she had nothing to argue with. She was naive to think a god as nefarious and vengeful as Echidna would ever uphold a deal made with a mere mortal.

'Then what am I to do, Grandmother?' she pleaded. 'I see no other way out of this mess that doesn't end up killing most if not all of us.'

'Then we will die,' Queen Hippolyta said, her grip tightening over Y/N's hands. 'But we will die as the warriors that Athena made us to be. Not the cowards Echidna thinks we are.'

Tears rolled down Y/N's face and sobs threatened to suffocate her as reality hit. 'Oh my dear,' the Queen cooed and pulled Y/N into her arms as the tears and sobs overtook her.

'I just... I just wanted to save them,' Y/N said as she clutched onto her grandmother. 'They don't deserve to die. All those girls out there... I couldn't help them.'

'You cannot save everyone, Y/N. You should know this better than anyone.' The Queen pulled away from the hug and Y/N sat up straight, looking at her grandmother wide-eyed. The Queen reached out to Y/N's cheek and wiped the remaining tears away.

'But all is not lost yet. You still have some warriors, you still have that boy of yours, and you still have your power.'

Y/N gave the Queen a confused expression but all her grandmother did was smile knowingly. 'News travels fast, you know. I heard what happened on the beach. It was quite impressive what you did.'

'But it's not my power,' Y/N countered. 'And when I asked for Athena's help again just now, nothing happened and I couldn't help those girls.'

'You think the power belongs to Athena?' the Queen asked, an amused laugh escaping her briefly.

'What? What's so funny?' Y/N asked, completely confused now.

'Athena is our creator, dear, but like most gods she does not help her children,' her grandmother explained. 'That power you used on the beach was not from Athena, but yourself.'

'From me?'

The Queen nodded. 'Your mother tapped into her power around your age, as did I, and my mother before me. We come from a long line of women who are able to tap into their inner strength, a magical gift from Athena's DNA. Not only do we posses her strategic mind and knack for combat, but we are blessed with her strength and power. It usually arises in a time of great need. But it only comes when the warrior is fully aware and accepting of they are. A True Warrior.'

The Queens squeezed Y/N's hand and smiled proudly at her. 'You have the makings of a True Warrior, Y/N. But you let fear and doubt influence your decisions too much. You fear loss and a broken heart, but I can tell you right now that none of those women who have died today or even millennia before that regret their decision to fight. Not a single person outside of this room, including that boy of yours, isn't willing to fight for this island and fight with you. All you have to do is lead them.'

'But what if I all I lead them to is their deaths?' Y/N asked quietly, almost too scared to hear the answer.

'All empires must come to an end, and maybe this time is ours,' her grandmother replied, 'but we will go out as warriors defending our homes... and the ones we love.'

She said that last part very pointedly and pang of guilt surged through Y/N. 'He's not my boy,' Y/N said, wiping a stray tear away. 'Not now anyways. If he ever was to begin with, that is.'

'Of course he is,' her grandmother interjected. 'When you love someone, you don't give up on them so easily.'

Y/N stared at her grandmother shocked. the implication of her words had Y/N's thoughts turning around so fast she could barely think a single thought except for one.

'Dick loves me?' she asked.

Her grandmother sighed in frustration. 'I love you, but you are more oblivious than your mother some days. Of course he loves you. He wouldn't have sailed the world's oceans trying to find an unfindable place otherwise. He wouldn't have helped train the other warriors if he didn't. And he wouldn't have stayed to fight this evil, knowing full well that he might not live long enough to see home again, if he didn't feel that way about you.'

Y/N could hardly breathe as her grandmother piled the evidence up. For so long she had believed he felt nothing romantic for her, but her grandmother was putting forward a convincing argument.

'But- But he's never indicated that he feels that way,' Y/N tried arguing, although she couldn't help the little flutter of excitement in her heart.

'Trust me, dear, he has. Whether he knows it or not yet, he loves you. And I think you better tell him how you feel in case this war goes further south. Don't you?'

Y/N sat with her thoughts for a moment. It was hard to comprehend that Dick Grayson, her best friend and the love of her life, actually reciprocated her feelings. But whether she accepted it or not, her grandmother was right about one thing.

'I will,' Y/N said, her mind clear, her resolve strong. 'After we come up with a plan to get rid of that hydra outside and then Echidna.'

'You've changed your mind?' the Queen asked.

Y/N nodded. 'You're right. If we die, we die as who we are, not as Echidna wants us to be. But we are not dead yet, and we are Amazon warriors, meaning we have the tactical minds of Athena herself.'

'Meaning?' her grandmother asked.

Y/N smirked. 'Meaning... I am sure we can come up with a plan or two to send Echidna and her monstrous children back to the hell in which they came from.,'

Her grandmother embraced Y/N once more and squeezed her tight. 'That's my girl.' When they pulled apart, she asked, 'Now, what did you have in mind?'

~~~

Dick sat in the infirmary beside a resting Calliope whose hands were bandaged in the hopes they would heal in time for the next wave of attacks from Echidna. All those who laid in the infirmary were hopeful to rejoin the fight. But as Dick sat there, looking around at the bleeding, the dismembered, the dead, he couldn't help but think they all were wishful thinkers.

'It's alarming, isn't it,' Calliope from her propped-up position on her cot. 'How quickly a battle can go south. How so many people can end up in a place like this after just one day of fighting.'

'I've been in battles before,' Dick replied, though his voice felt distant when he spoke, like it was coming from someone else. 'I've dealt with casualties before, just... never to this scale.'

Calliope huffed with weak amusement. 'Then you are a lucky warrior. But I guess we are lucky too. For a time, this was our people's normal. We train here most of our lives and never see battle. The younger ones crave it, but us older ones know to be grateful. War is not something I wish to experience my whole life.'

Dick hummed in agreement, reflecting on his own life. Since he was ten, he'd known violence. Befriended it in a weird way. Back when he was with the team - and even when he left - he always craved action. But Calliope was right; he should've been more grateful for the quiet times, the times of peace. That's what the Justice League and the Young Justice team were for anyways.

To fight against injustice, and keep the peace.

Breaking his thoughts, Calliope rested a bandaged hand upon his own that rested on her bedside. 'It does not do one well to dwell on the past,' she said, a knowing smile softening her usually stoic features. 'But I guess it is hard to look to the future when the past is constantly around you.'

She gave Dick a pointed look, and Dick sighed as he pulled his hands away from hers. 'My relationship with Y/N doesn't matter right now.'

His heart dropped as he recalled their earlier fight. How desperate and frightened she'd been but wouldn't let him in. It hurt him to think he couldn't help her, but everything she'd thrown at him, he knew she'd meant it. Perhaps she'd finally allowed herself to say the things she'd never allowed herself to say about him until then.

Deep down, under all her armour and strength, she hated him. She hated him for leaving, for abandoning the team.

'In fact,' he continued sadly, 'I don't think I have a relationship with Y/N anymore.'

It broke his heart to think of all the years they'd been together, all the triumphs they'd shared and all the failures they'd had to rise from together. To think that all of that was gone just because he got mad at her for trying to do the right thing by her people? He was a fool, a damn fool.

'That's the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard, mortal,' Calliope injected so matter-of-factly that Dick looked up at her like a stunned mullet.

'Excuse me?' he questioned.

'Are all mortal men as deaf and blind as you are?' Calliope asked, rolling her eyes as gently wiggled herself into a straighter seating position. 'You and the Princess might have gotten off on the wrong foot when you first arrived here, but I can tell she cares for you deeper than you realise.'

Dick shook his head. 'I don't think so. We had a huge fight just before. I don't think she'd care if I walked out of this palace right now and got smoked by the hydra.'

'Sure she would!' Calliope argued. 'Look, people have fights all the time. That doesn't mean you love them any less for it. I've seen the way she looks at you when you're not looking, like you hung the very moon and stars that look over us right now. That kind of admiration, that kind of love doesn't just vanish because of one measly fight.'

Love. Dick was stuck on that one word as Calliope kept talking. He deconstructed it and put it back together over and over again and yet it remained ever-present.

'Well... of course we love each other,' Dick staggered for words, for reasoning to battle against his warring heart and mind. 'We've known each other since we were ten. We've been through everything together.'

Calliope just sighed and slumped back in her pillows. 'You exasperate me, mortal. You will die with regrets you do not even know of. And for that I feel sorry for you.'

Dick stared at her befuddled. 'What are you talking about?'

Before she could answer, the doors to the infirmary opened and Dick was surprised, delighted, and annoyed at the sight of Y/N walking through the giant doors. She greeted and hugged all she could as she made her way down the aisle towards Calliope's bed. Dick was half-hoping, that she would just keep walking past. But she did not, stopping right at the end of Calliope's bed.

'Friend, how are you?' Y/N asked gently, a genuinely regretful expression on her face.

'I am fine, Princess,' Calliope answered, raising her bandaged hands towards Y/N. 'It is just a flesh wound. Our healers will have me out pf here in time for the next attack, whenever that will be.'

'Good,' Y/N said, and Dick saw her put on a front - the front of a general. She stood slightly taller, held her head higher, spoke more confidently. 'We will need you ready for tomorrow's plans.'

Dick and Calliope both looked at each other confused. 'Plans?' Dick asked, standing from his seat.

Y/N nodded at him then addressed Calliope. 'Once you have healed, meet us in the Strategy Room. There we will discuss the plan.'

'Yes, Princess,' Calliope answered.

Y/N turned to Dick then and tilted her head back to the infirmary's entrance. 'Would you like to join me and the others in the Strategy Room? I would like to discuss the plan with you.'

Dick held Y/N's gaze for a moment, unsure of what she was doing. Only a few hours ago she told him he was useless, a waste of space. But now she was asking for his help?

He turned to Calliope, who nodded her head as if giving him permission to leave her bedside. 'I will join you both as soon as I am able,' she said, and with that Y/N lead Dick out of the infirmary.

They climbed the quiet staircase silently, walked many hallways without speaking. Dick wanted to speak, but what to say. He felt Y/N was holding back something too but seemed to be hesitating as well.

Finally fed up with the metaphorical chicken game, he let out an exasperated sigh and said, 'Okay, what changed your mind?'

Y/N didn't answer for a few more steps until they rounded another corner and she stopped and sighed. Finally she turned back to him, regret reflecting in her E/C eyes.

'You mean what made me realise I was being a coward and not a true Amazon warrior?'

Dick winced at the half quoting of his words she'd used. But as he opened his mouth to apologise, she raised her hand to silence him. 'It's okay, I understand. You were upset, and you had a right to be. I wasn't thinking like a warrior. I let my fear and my own pride lead me down a path of cowardice and shame. But, with some help, I realised... you were right.'

'I was?' Dick couldn't believe what he was hearing. For years, she'd always been the smarter one, always been the wiser one of the pair. This was new territory for him.

She nodded her head. 'Amazons don't hide or make deals to ensure their survival. They fight for it, they earn it, and if they die trying, and that is a worthy warrior's death.' She offered him a small smile. 'We win together, or we die together. Including you.'

Dick wasn't sure where Y/N was taking this, especially as she stepped closer to him. The firelight of the hallway torches made her hair ripple like fire and mad her eyes seem molten, alive. She was mesmerising.

'I'm sorry if I made you feel you had to prove yourself to me,' she said, her voice tight, apologetic. 'The truth is, I was just scared I would lose you again because of something I dragged you into. I wanted you gone... because I wouldn't be able to live with myself if I'd gotten you killed.'

Dick's heart hiccuped with Y/N's honesty. In that moment, he saw the ten-year-old girl he'd met all those years ago. How vibrant and brave and strong she was. Then he thought of the time they picked their vigilante names out for one another, and all the times they fought battles and trained and laughed and cried and it him then the legacy she'd taken on. The pressure she felt to live up to her mother's success - and it had all started at the age of ten.

And it was all coming out now, along with the tears that trickled down her face. Immediately, Dick reached hand out to wipe her cheek, and that seemed to make her realise she was crying and then she was full on sobbing.

Dick didn't think twice as he pulled her into his comforting arms, as he pressed her as close to him as he could so she could feel his heartbeat, to let her know he was there. For her.

'I'm not gone, Y/N,' he murmured into her hair. Damn, he'd forgotten how tall he'd grown since he last saw her. 'I am right here. I am not laying out there among the dead, I am here.'

She trembled in his arms, and his heart shattered just a little bit more. 'Yes, but you could've been,' she said, her voice all muffled as she continued crying into his chest.

'But I'm not, Y/N.' Once she'd calmed down until she was just sniffling, he pulled away to look down at her, his hands gently resting on her shoulders. 'I promise, Echidna would have to burn me to ashes and then burn them again in order to take me away from you. Do you hear me?'

Y/N, with wide eyes rimmed red, just stared up at him with an expression he didn't quite recognise. It was hopeful and full of admiration. And there was something else there, something that had Dick's heart skipping a beat with the possibility that it might be what he thought it might be.

'You had a chance to leave Themyscira,' Y/N said softly, never breaking eye contact. 'You had a chance to live and forget all about this and me... Why did you stay?'

The question struck him so hard in the chest he lost his breath, thus lost his ability to think and function. It was the easiest and the hardest question to answer. It was easy because the answer was staring him right in the face, but he found it hard to say because what if he was wrong? What if he was reading this whole situation wrong? And what if he ruined the best thing that ever happened to him if he opened up his mouth?

'I stayed... I stayed because... because...' It was right there on the tip of his tongue, all he needed to do was be brave enough to say it.

The doors to the Strategy Room banged opened and Y/N and Dick jumped apart to see Queen Hippolyta standing at the entrance. 'I'm sorry, have I interrupted something?' she asked.

Y/N quickly wiped the remaining tears on her cheeks away as she stood up tall once more and replied, 'No, we were just about to come in and discuss the strategy for tomorrow.'

The Queen eyed the two of them, and Dick thought she looked slightly disappointed. But she gestured for them to come in, saying, 'Well, by all means, let us discuss.'

Y/N and Dick spared each other one more look before heading towards the Strategy Room. Dick's heart was practically beating out his chest and he wondered for a moment if Y/N could hear it.

Focus, Dick, he reminded himself as he entered the room with the generals and the Queen. We have a war to win first.

~~~

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[i-dared-myself]

ATEEZ x Ninth Member Headcanons

ATEEZ x reader

Slightly NSFW for but not so much so that I’m marking this 18+

Requested by anonymous: OMG YOU TAKE REQUESTS???? YOUR BLOG IS SO PERFECT Ahem- sorry, I got excited !!! Could I please request an ATEEZ 9th member au headcanons??? I've seen the skz one and now you made me want to see the idea with Ateez too!

Ahhh I’m so sorry to people who made requests before this one! I promise I'm still working on those ones, I just got really excited about ATEEZ!!!

•Hongjoon welcomes you to the group with a warm smile. He leads you to meet the others, and you know it will be chaos when you see them.

•You never feel out of place for a moment. They all make you feel welcome, and you try your very best to return that enthusiasm as you settle into the group.

•Your room is off from the others. Sometimes you like it that way, other times you don’t. It really depends.

•You like it on days where San is looking for someone to bother and Seonghwa isn’t around. You son’t like it on the nights that you have terrible dreams thay leave you sobbing into your pillows when you wake.

•When that happens, you push your door open and wander down the dark hallways. Wooyoung is always ready to comfort you, usually by using his body warmth to soothe you to sleep. And he’s not going to say anything if he gets a free cuddle out of it.

•Jongho stays up with you. You don’t mention what happened in the dreams, and he doesn’t press for an answer. Eventually you fall asleep and he doesn’t risk waking you, instead leaving you in his bed.

•Yeosang is always a bit unsure of himself. But then he remembers there’s no cameras around and you need him. So he mutters words of assurance to you and awkwardly pats your back.

•Hongjoon brings you to the kitchen with him. He either makes you a hot chocolate or a tea, depending on your mood. He lets you snuggle up to his side on the couch as you drink it, telling you about his day.

•Seonghwa immediately tugs you into his bed. He covers you in his blankets and coos about how brave you are. Sure it’s a bit ridiculous to be coddled at your age, but you soak up the love regardless.

Yunho listens as you blabber on about whatever it is. You cry into his shoulder as he rubs circles on your back. Eventually you can’t even remember what it is that woke you and doze away in his grasp.

•San groans as you poke him until he wakes up, but is fast to sit up. His brain is too foggy with sleep to really understand what’s happening, but he tosses you over his shoulder before depositing you in your bed and returning back to sleep right there on the floor. It’s the thought that counts, and that helps you.

•Mingi mutters about how he can take your nightmares in a fight, which makes you giggle. He rambles nonsense about how he’s tougher than whatever it is you’re kept up by. He’s silly and makes you laugh when you need it most.

•When your birthday comes around, you barely make it out with your life. You do your live as you were supposed to, and it goes by smoothly. No hiccups or cakes being smushed into faces.

•Then Yeosang calls you into the kitchen, and you’re awestruck by the pile of gifts on the counter, next to the worst cake you’ve ever seen.

•It’s hideous. Your name is scrawled out messily across the top in a colour that absolutely doesn’t match the frosting on the rest of it. There’s a huge crack down the centre, and you’re pretty sure you’re about to cry.

•“I told you it was fucking ugly!” Wooyoung hisses to Yunho, smacking his arm.

•You whisper that you love it, much to their surprise. Hongjoon cuts you a slice before putting it out in front of you. They sing happy birthday to you before you take a bite.

•You’re the only one to eat any of the dessert, because apparently they already ate two entire cakes. They screwed up the others even worse than the one they presented to you and didn’t know how else to discard of the evidence.

•They apologize for not just buying you a cake, and you ban them from ever buying you one. It becomes a yearly tradition for them to bake you one from scratch, and each cake gets better than the last.

•Probably because the first one gives you food poisoning. They apologize numerous times from your hospital bed, but you assure them that you’re fine.

•Your water bottle is covered with stickers. Whenever you travel in the world for a tour, Wooyoung buys you a sticker to remember it. You cry when you lose the bottle, and Hongjoon purchases you a new one.

•The rest of them pitch in to get you a bunch more stickers, until your water bottle is unrecognizable.

•Your room itself was plain when you moved in. The walls were white, the closet was empty, and the curtains were a depressing beige.

•Now, everything is slathered with your favourite colours. Mingi and San help hang the new curtains, while Yeosang and Seonghwa paint the walls. Jongho whines as he pinches his finger putting your new bed together with Hongjoon, and Yunho proudly displays glowing stars on your wall.

•It feels like home in a way you can’t describe, especially when Wooyoung trips and puts a hole in the plaster of your room. Everyone yells at him, and you don’t repair the dent.

•The day Mingi finds a bloody pad in the bathroom garbage is perhaps the most stressful day of your life. Even more so than your auditions and exams.

•He sprints into the living room, waving his arms around. He (thankfully) left it in the bathroom and didn’t touch it. “Someone here is dying!”

Hongjoon jumps to his feet, eyebrows pulling together in concern. He demands to know which member of the group has a deadly disease/alien parasite living inside them.

•You quietly admit it’s your period, and they all freeze. In all their time living with you, it hadn’t occurred to them that you went through cycles. Logically you did, but they never put two and two together.

•Seonghwa (again) coos about what a poor thing you are. You just want to curl up and die as he lifts you onto his lap and announces to the others that you’re so strong and brave.

•To which you tell him you’re not a child and stomp away to your room, slamming the door shut.

•The irony does not escape you.

•They all knock on your door, murmuring about how Seonghwa is an idiot. They promise to make him cook dinner, and anything you desire. Waffles do sound pretty good, so you open your door.

•Seonghwa is shoved closer and says how deeply sorry he is for offending you. San scratches his head and adds that you are so brave and strong.

•They all grown as you slam the door in their faces. They scold him insistently, before Seonghwa and San defend themselves.

•“I’m just saying I would be terrified to find blood coming out of me one day!” San exclaims. Seonghwa murmurs agreement. You peek out of your room hesitantly. He continues, “And having to just go on with your normal life? Yikes.”

•So you forgive them. The waffles you eat that night are fluffy and delicious.

•It’s well-known that ATEEZ is… freaky. They’re wholesome and sweet, but they’re a bunch of nasty freaks (Endearing term). You were shocked the first time Mingi used a microphone as a pretend-dick and jerked it off. That first time San kissed Wooyoung on the lips? You were horrified.

•You’ve grown used to it. You don’t even bat an eye when Jongho thrusts into the air. You’re not quite up to their level, but your face doesn’t heat up at their lewd actions, anymore.

•Although you do get flustered when they drag you into it. You cover your eyes with your hands as Seonghwa’s eyes roll back from where he’s straddled beneath you. You shriek as Yeosang slaps a hand on the wall next to your head, and nearly pass out when Hongjoon’s fingers curl around your throat.

•All of this is part of skits (You’re fairly certain of this, at least) and carefully thought out and planned ahead of time. For the days afterwards, you stay off of social media and ignore your mom’s calls.

•The time you nearly drown is a harrowing event. You take a short walk near the site you’re filming a vlog. You promise Yunho you’ll take security with you before you grab a jacket and follow a trail.

•You’re standing at the edge of a river when you realize your personal guard went on a lunch break. You sigh and turn to return to the group, not wanting to be out without protection.

•Then the dirt beneath your heel crumbles as you tumble into the rushing waters. A scream is ripped from your throat as everything is turned upside down and sideways and-

•You’re pulled onto the riverbank and gasp for air. Your eyes struggle to open, and you hear the panicked cries of the other members.

•“Who’s giving her mouth to mouth?” Yeosang shouts. The others fall into an eerie silence as you try and gather the words to tell them to back the fuck off.

•You manage to peel your eyes open, just in time to prevent San’s mouth from lowering to yours. You push him away before vomiting to the side.

•Hongjoon refuses to do any other filming that day, and brings you back home. Seonghwa cocoons you in blankets and curls up on the couch next to you. Mingi makes you a warm drink while Wooyoung runs his fingers through your hair.

•Jungho is the one to turn a movie on to distract you from your racing thoughts. Yunho dumps a bag of chips into a bowl and places it in front of you, but you’re arms are wrapped up too tightly for you too eat them.

•So Yeosang is the selfless hero who consumes the snack, telling you about how bad they taste and not to worry. When you point out that he could just feed them to you, he conveniently goes deaf from San yelling in his ear.

•And when you have nightmares that night from almost dying, you know you have plenty of people to go to.

Taglist:

@velvetmoonlght

[sinnabarmoth]

Feeling Better

Pairing: Xavier x Fem|Reader

Prompt: Mini fic of Reader being a soft!dom with the lads. (Not necessarily sexual, just sweet 'let me take care of you' vibes. But this one is a little sexual.)

Content warnings: Handjob.

Word count: 1k

Links to the other lads: (Rafayel) (Sylus) (Zayne)

When Xavier came back from his mission you were over the moon. He had been gone for an entire week in a dangerous area fighting Wanderers. But now he was back! You had decided to go pick him up from the airport and treat him to hotpot. It wasn’t until you saw him that you realized that he had kept something major from you when he said he was coming home.

“Hey, thanks for coming to pick me up--”

“Why in the world is your arm in a sling?” you asked. “What happened?”

“Oh…I fractured it while fighting Wanderers. But it’s okay. The doctor said I’ll be fine in no time.”

“And how long is no time?”

“Four to six weeks…” he said sheepishly.

“Xavier! Oh my god, why didn’t you tell me you broke your arm?”

“I didn’t want you to worry.”

“So what? You were just going to hide it for a month and a half? I’m your girlfriend, you’re supposed to tell me these things.” you sighed. Careful to mind his arm you wrapped your arms around his neck and hugged him tight. “I’m glad you’re home and you’re safe. But now I have to change my welcome home plans.”

“You don’t need to--”

“I don’t see how I’m going to be able to tie you up if your arm is in a sling. Although…I guess that is a kind of restraint. Nevermind. Best not to test it. Let’s just go get hotpot.”

“Tie me up?” his face went red. “I can’t believe you just said that in the middle of the airport.”

“I’ve said worse in public before and you know it.” you grabbed his suitcase and looped your arm around his waist. “Let’s get going. I’m starving and I know you have to be too.”

After hotpot you returned home. You grabbed the dirty clothes out of his luggage and threw them in the laundry. He told you that you didn’t need to unpack his stuff but you were being insistent. “Let me dote on you. I haven’t seen you in a week and you’re injured. Let me take care of you, okay?”

His face started turning red again. “Okay. Whatever you want.”

“Good boy.” you kissed his cheek.

You passed the evening watching movies but as evening fell it became increasingly obvious how limited Xavier was with his broken arm. That became obvious when he said he wanted to take a shower. The hospital had given him a waterproof sleeve to put over his cast but that still basically left him one arm short. It also wasn’t helping with getting undressed.

“Are you going to keep struggling in here or are you going to admit you need my help?” you cocked your head at him from the bathroom doorway.

He sighed, his shirt stuck halfway off him. “Yes, please.”

“Was that so hard?” you went over and helped yank the shirt up over his head. “Seriously, how’d you even get dressed if getting undressed is this hard?”

“I don’t know--hey! What are you doing?” he flummoxed as you started pulling his pants down.

“Helping you undress, remember?”

“I can do that part myself.”

“I don’t see what you’re getting so worked up about. It’s not like I’ve never seen you naked before.” you giggled. “But I do like seeing you flustered. It’s so cute.”

“I--” he stepped out of his pants and turned on the shower. You rolled your eyes and started disrobing too. “What are you doing now?”

“I was thinking I was going to shower with you, help get you clean since you’re one arm short.” you said, stepping in next to him. “Why? Something wrong?”

“I just…” he glanced down. Between your bodies Xavier’s dick was already at half-mast. “You mentioned tying me up earlier and I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it. But then you said we weren’t going to do anything cause my arm was broken so I was just planning on coming in here and getting rid of it myself.”

“Oh Xavier,” you turned his face to yours and kissed him. “Just because I can’t tie you up doesn’t mean we can’t do other things. I said I was going to take care of you today, remember?”

You gently took him in your hand, stroking your hand up and down and fondling his balls until he was rock hard. You pressed him against the shower wall so he had some support. He panted as you worked him over, his free hand grabbing you tightly by the hip.

“You worked so hard all week and then got badly injured. You deserve to be taken care of today and every day.” you pulled him down closer to kiss him. “Just relax and let me take care of you, baby. Can you do that? Can you do that for me?”

“Yes.” his brow furrowed as he tried to fight off coming too soon. “I’ll repay your actions, I promise.”

“I know you will, Xavier. But don’t think about that right now.” you pumped him faster. His moans grew louder until he was bucking into your hand. “Just feel good. I want you to be so good for me and come. Go on, I know you want to. Come for me.”

“I--I--” his head tipped back, exposing his pale throat to you. You kissed up his neck, pressing your body against his like you knew he enjoyed. You bit down on his chest and his cock twitched in your grasp as he came with a long moan. You kept pumping him until every drop had been emptied and his legs trembled to support his weight.

“Oh my sweet boy, you were really pent up, huh?” you grinned. “Feel better?”

“Yeah…” he took in deep breaths. “Much better.”

“Good. Cause we still need to get you cleaned up. Take your time to catch your breath, I’ll grab the shampoo.” you turned to grab the shampoo but Xavier kept a hold of you. “Something wrong?”

“Stay close a little longer.” he said, pulling you towards him. “Please.”

“Of course.” you hugged him, the spray of the water raining down on both of you as you simply embraced. “I love you, you know that right?”

“I love you too.” he said. “I’m glad you’re here to help me. In the past I had to deal with this stuff on my own so having a helping hand is nice.”

“I’ll always be here when you need me, Xavier.” you kissed the bite mark on his chest. “No matter what it is you need me for, I’ll be here.”