#i have so many conflicted thoughts i’m sorry | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

stunies · 1 month ago

Text

very messy word dump below the cut + in tags :^) heh

okay it’s officially been a full day since reading this and i’m going to write down everything i remember feeling from day 1! and then in the tags im going to reread this (for the third time within 24 hours) and add thoughts that i didn’t put down here. SORRY FOR THE MESS & NO PRESSURE TO READ ALL THIS SJKDMF IT IS JUST A LOT OF WORD VOMIT BC IM INSANE OVER THIS FIC

okay i should start from the beginning. Wait I’ll use caps so it’s easier to read if you’re reading it bahahhaa OKAY. The way you write alpha / omega!!! It’s different from what I’m used to reading— and I mean it has a lot of a depth. The way you wrote reader being an alpha = being so protective over Aventurine fucked me up so bad /pos. Reader just wants him safe and they’re so real for that.

Going off on that, I LOVE HOW U WROTE THE READER. Understands Aventurine so well. Will literally do anything to keep him safe. Understands what sets him off and what he’s comfortable with. The part where Aventurine was talking about the next mission & reader seeing right through him ): are you serious /pos. WAIT I SKIPPED TOO FAR AHEAD. When Aventurine was trying to get reader to join the IPC? Dead. Evie DEAD. Reader saw right through him omg. Being able to notice the little changes in his scent, the way he tries to mask it etc etc. I love that so bad.

WHEN READER FOUND HIM IN HEAT FUUUCK. ARE YOU SERIOUS /pos. Fighting the urge to help him vs waiting to just make it better because reader has the power to ): I loved that so much. The struggle was so real. Literally bringing a doctor just to hear that he needs an alpha to help anyways omg. Lowkey when the doctor said that I was like PLEASE LET US HELP YOU PLEASEEEEEEE. But also. I didn’t want him to be scared either you know ):

I skipped over another scene sighs. THE part where reader said ‘I like your eyes because they’re yours” and then the end. Him saying he likes our scent because it’s ours. Are you serious /pos. Be so serious /pos.

Okay the scent gland scenes actually fucked me up so bad (I unfortunately did not dream about anything but maybe that is for the best because I’m still recovering from this scene). The part where he asks for just the wrist. Reader struggling when they FEEL HIS TEETH GRAZE THE WRIST IM GONNA EXPLODE OMFG. The immediate pulling away because we don’t want to scare him please. + the scent gland scene at the end. HE DIDN’T FEEL LIKE HE HAD TO BE ON TOP. We could lay side by side ): I was so happy that he was okay with that omg. Literally all giddy like aaaaa!!!!!! IM NOT A THREAT!! Actually that’s a lie I wasn’t giddy. I was literally in tears jejdkckckckk Aventurine 😭😭 ughhhhhhh /pos

I won’t comment on the actual scene (I am commenting on it right now actually) because I was literally so sad and my heart hurt so badly for him. I wanted him to see himself from our POV for just one moment so he can understand that we genuinely love him and treasure him & want to keep him safe. ):

ABOUT YOUR WRITING ITSELF : insanity. I will just say insanity. How should I put it in words….. just thinking about this fic again is taking all the words out of my mouth shejdjfjj (I say this as I type a 27738 page essay about it). I love how you write. I really do. Your writing style is so beautiful. I haven’t read the other tags under your fic but I’m sure many others have said the same thing!!! They word it better than me I’m sure bsjsjsjsjsk

I just love everything about it. How you add in little details (oh! Speaking of details— Aventurine’s reaction to reader cozying up to her husband in the other fic) HEJDJJDJDJ omg. But in this fic, the little signs of him being scared. Scared 24/7 actually ): I love how you conveyed his fear so much. And the way he tries so hard to hide it. HIM CRUMBLING DOWN TO HIS RAW SELF WHEN HES IN HEAT. AND THE FEAR THERE TOO. INSANE.

^^ How you wrote him so adamant about not needing help at first …. To him asking for the scent gland ….. to him agreeing to use reader. It was all so real. He didn’t just change his mind like oh okay! It took him a while to be okay with it and I love how real it all felt. You write dialogue & little details so well— it actually drives me nuts (/compliment /pos)

Oh this just reminded me. Your description of how Aventurine smells killed me /pos. And how you describe his scent as sweet. I’m really not okay /pos. It fits him so well. And … for reader…. the scent after rain ? Oh my god ???? I love that smell so much. It’s so comforting…. OMG. COMFORTING????????? BECAUSE. Oh wow. I’m really not okay now. I JUST LOVE ALL THE DETAILS LIKE THAT )))): it’s so clear you put so much thought into all these things because your fic has so much depth. I lowkey yanked out Notibility for your other Aventurine fic to highlight the parts I wanted to comment on ehdjdkkck I was annotating it like a book (I’m so sorry if this is creepy I promise I don’t do this on a regular basis. I don’t annotate fics normally. Actually please disregard this because I’m a bit red admitting this) (I just have the memory of a goldfish and can only remember feelings and not actual content) (That’s a lie because here I am remembering a lot of this fic MOST LIKELY BECAUSE I READ IT WITH MY EYES AN INCH FROM THE SCREEN PROBABLY I WAS LIKE O_O) /pos

NIGHT FLOWER: part i

Your place in the world was one of a tool. This was true of every slave: you were all things to be used. Kakavasha understood this about you, and he understood this about himself. It was how he survived all those years ago, and it’s how he survives now. And so, when Aventurine goes into his first heat in years and decides to suffer it alone, you can only think of one way to get him to accept your help: You offer to let him use you.

written for @/lorelune's spring fever collab & @ficsforgaza

13.5k words of omegaverse, mutual pining, hurt/comfort, angst with an eventual happy ending. gn alpha reader + omega aventurine (they each have both amab and afab genitalia). explicit piv sex, reader bottoms, the sex is consensual but emotionally complicated and deeply sad. cw slavery, racism, gendered violence, including very brief and non-graphic (but direct) references to sexual abuse during slavery. the sa and slavery are not eroticized. dead dove do not eat, mdni.

thank you to @acerathia, @minnaci, @owlespresso for all your help with beta reading and to @kosmiccarma for brainstorming omega aventurine hcs!

“I’ve alw███ l█ved ███, Ka██v█s███”

You knew it from the moment you met him.

Gaunt, pallid, weighed down by heavy chains. Irises that glowed like the auroras back in your world. Delicate features that made every passerby in the market stop to read the description on the placard. (Sigonian, it said, although you couldn’t read at the time. Avgin. Male. Omega. Sixteen years old. Sixty Tanba, no tax.) He had an all-consuming scent that was impossible to ignore—one that possessed you, made your heels dig into the dirt, every atom in your body resisting the impatient jerk of the chains at your wrist. Even through your muzzle, through the perpetual stench of carbon-steel and blood, you could smell it: honey and wildflowers. A fragrance that settled deep within you, flooded you with a warmth that felt like home.

Aventurine is not a spiritual person. He once told you this, his smile cold in the glow of an artificial moon. He'd been deeply religious as a child, but hasn’t since cared for fairy tales about fortune and fate, three-eyed goddesses or merciful rainfalls. Hasn't thought about anything like a destined love. He thinks the idea of a true mate is laughable, that no such bond could ever be forged between an omega and an alpha. That nothing so unconditional could ever exist.

You know differently, of course. You've known it from the moment you met him, from the second you laid eyes on him and thought, I need to help you, and I need to protect you, and I need you to be safe, and you’d never once heard the word ‘love’ in your life—slaves are never loved by their masters, after all, and you'd always been nothing but a slave—but every atom of your being knew that you loved him, that you'd always love him.

And when your master cradled your face that night and crooned that he owned you, that you'd always be his obedient, alpha pet—for the first time in your life, you knew that he was wrong.

You didn't belong to your slaver.

You belonged to him.

To Kakavasha.

These days, Aventurine does not smell like honey, and your jaw is not restrained.

Your muzzle was one of the first things that Aventurine threw away when he bought your freedom. According to the Amber Era system, it had been several months since the murder of your shared master. Ninety-five Star Calendar days after the Interastral Peace Corps had arrested Kakavasha. An entire rotation around the black hole at the centre of your wretched galaxy, all of which had been spent in the captivity of some new mistress. She picked you out because she liked your calming scent and the look of your face, but mostly she used you for the fighting pits just like your old master.

Aventurine had been sitting in the audience of your final match, then bought you out right after you won. “I’m in need of a fighter,” he’d said, smiling in his thick furs and jewels. He played the part of a slavemaster perfectly, his gloved hands wandering the span of your aching shoulders, touching the bloodied maw of your mask. “And I’d be willing to pay top credit for yours.”

She protested. You were her most prized possession, one of her greatest investments. Slaves from your planet were hard enough to come by—alphas capable of reproduction, nearly impossible. And you were so well-behaved, so poised, so endearing in a way that was rare for alphas. She was fond of you. Her omega slaves were fond of you too. They would be distraught if you left, and that would complicate her household affairs—and surely Aventurine, as a respectable owner of human capital like herself, could understand how inconvenient that would be?

Aventurine bared his teeth in a gracious smile. (You’d never seen Kakavasha make such an expression before—so disarming, so cunning, a crescent moon beneath snake eyes. He’d never smelt like this either, like an expensive cologne layered with bleach, and it left you feeling nauseous, wondering if he was ill.) He flirted his way into her good graces, made her an offer she couldn’t refuse, and then he brought you into the first-class ship on which he’d arrived. You were so stunned by its luxury—the handwoven carpets, the crushed velvet seats, the imported tea from several galaxies away and the custom-ordered outfit he had bought for you—that you nearly missed the tremble in his hands as he punched numbers into the remote control lock for your chains.

He had regained his composure by the time he pulled away your muzzle, though. He threw it carelessly to the ground—your titanium chains, too. Then kicked both away with his shined leather shoes.

“There,” Aventurine said, smiling cheerfully. “Much better, don’t you think?”

“Vasha—” you started, voice thick with wasted grief, and all you wanted to was reach for him, to double check that he was real, but he placed a finger to your lips and stopped you. You stiffened at the satin touch, but he seemed unbothered.

“‘Aventurine’,” he corrected.

You stared blankly. “What?”

“‘Aventurine’. Like the gemstone. That’s my name now.”

“You—” Your voice caught in your throat. You realized that you’d been holding your breath. You always had the habit of holding your breath in the luxurious, private rooms of very rich men, because you never liked what happened in them. Forcing yourself to breathe, you asked, “You gave yourself a new name?”

“No. The IPC gave me a new name. They gave me a job, too.”

“A job?” you asked, voice faint. Now that you were breathing again, you were noticing once more just how bizarre he smelled. Sterile and expensive and completely foreign. “You’re free now?”

“Well, I’m a freedman, but I don’t know if I’d call myself free. I’m a bit… indebted to the IPC, let’s say. But that’s fine. I can’t complain. I mean—look around. This beats the fighting pits, doesn’t it?” He gestured lazily at your surroundings, and you nodded.

“It’s nice here,” you replied, feeling absurd but not knowing what else to say. Once Kakavasha got talking, it was impossible to get a word in edgewise.

“You like it here? Good. This room’s yours. Mine is the next one over. You’ll live and work here, with me. I’ll make sure you’re paid well. Full benefits, vacation, salary, and overtime. The standard pay for your role is seventy-thousand credits per month, but I’ll see if I can get you more. HR is pretty strict about their hiring policies, but—”

“You’re hiring me?”

Aventurine went very still, his smile tightly controlled. His eyes remained fixed on you, but they seemed less snake-like, now. They looked more familiar. More afraid.

“I’m offering, yes,” he said neatly. “You’ll be part of my personal security detail. I don’t have the contract for you to review yet, unfortunately. I didn’t arrange one ahead of time because, well”—he laughed, as if this were polite conversation and he were making a joke about the weather—“I didn’t know if I’d find you alive. But things worked out in my favour. They always work out in my favour. I’ll make sure they’ll work out in your favour too, so long as you’re with me. So you’ll consider it, won’t you? Staying with—working for me, I mean.”

Your eyes went soft. Beneath the artificial fragrance, you finally caught a hint of his familiar scent—more wildflower than honey at that moment, the way it always is when he’s scared.

“Kakavasha—”

“Name your price,” he said loudly, “and I’ll match it.”

You sighed. “Vasha,” you said more gently, and his shoulders relaxed at the subvocal shift in your timbre, at the famed alpha Voice that necessitated your muzzle, “I don’t care about the money. Of course I’ll stay here. But—what happened? Why did you kill him yourself? Why didn't you let me do it? That was the plan. It was always supposed to be me.”

It was my job, you thought then, just as you had thought to yourself every night, curled up in your bed and trying to recall the scent of fresh honey, to keep you safe.

He shrugged and said, “It would have been too risky to involve you.”

“You were caught and sentenced to death. The risk was already too high.”

“But the stakes weren’t,” he replied simply, and before you could ask what he meant by that, he continued, “and it worked out, didn’t it? I work for the IPC. You work for me. We’re freedmen now. Whatever I've lost, it doesn't matter. Our gains far outweigh it.”

“And what have you lost, Vasha?”

He smiled at you, charming and distracting. A crescent moon beneath snake eyes. “Nothing of value,” he reassured you, and even though you could feel the calm of an omega’s voice washing over you, even though it released all the tension in your body, all you could smell was cologne and wildflowers, and you knew that he was lying.

Vasha once told you, curled up and quiet on the basement floor, that he despised his eyes. They were supposed to be a sign of blessing from Gaiathra Triclops, but they'd never brought him anything but trouble. They were the first thing that the slavers always noticed about him, the feature that made him such an alluring commodity. Their aurora glow, their strange beauty, their promise of a rare opportunity: a chance at owning a specimen of an exotic, endangered species, possibly the last of its kind. These are all things that you've heard in the parlour of your master’s house as he entertained rich company, the crowd of them gawking at his human curios.

Avgin are said to make the most beautiful slaves, he'd often say. And Avgin omegas are said to be the most beautiful among them. What do you all think? They'd all hum, peering closely at Kakavasha’s features, and inevitably someone would joke, I think I'd like to borrow him sometime, and then they would all laugh while your pulse ticked up and you imagined tearing at their throats. Vasha would search for your gaze in these moments, giving you a long, pointed look: Don't do anything stupid.

He’d always been so blasé about it, the way people fixated on his Avgin blood. You'll never understand how. He didn't react to any of the comments, the groping, the innuendos. He was, however, distinctly unimpressed at the way that your master liked to play him up as a rare and expensive acquisition, as a sign of his own status. It's embarrassing to watch, Kakavasha had remarked. Everyone knows that Sigonian slaves are uncommon but cheap—people always think we’ll bring them more trouble than our worth. This was how Kakavasha had ended up in the market in the first place: because his last master had been robbed, and he'd been wrongly blamed for it.

The blame, to this day, has never stopped. People—powerful people, politicians, businessmen, socialites—look at Aventurine’s eyes and immediately reach for their pockets. You've seen it for yourself, these spineless despots and scammers feeling for their wallets. Sigonian, you know they're thinking. Liar, cheat, thief, whore, worthless, worthless, worthless. Your hands tighten around your blade each time, a loaded gun with a finger on the trigger.

Alphas are said to be violent by nature. Aventurine has often called you the one exception to this rule: the most docile, good-hearted alpha he's ever met. But this is a lie. You do have a predator instinct, and it comes out in full-force whenever you’re around these particular types of men. These types who notice Aventurine’s eyes and see a thief; these monsters who see his irises and imagine what it would be like to bed him. You’d kill them if you could. It would be so easy, especially now that you are an IPC dog. The Company is already such a violent force; what would be one more murder?

But Aventurine has never ordered you to punish anyone. (Don't do anything stupid, he always tells you with a glance, smiling through every humiliation.) Nor has he ever seemed bothered enough by these meetings to try concealing his heritage.

A fellow Asset Liquidation Specialist once asked why he didn't just hide his eye colour—it would likely be better for fostering relationships, negotiating deals—but Aventurine had shrugged it off. I'm a gambler working with the IPC, he'd said. Do you really think a pair of coloured contacts would make anyone trust me? He'd laughed, and his voice had carried a threatening edge, and his coworker had shifted visibly at it. Being an Avgin is the least threatening thing about me, wouldn't you say?

You think that Aventurine likes being seen as a threat. Sometimes you wonder if this is why he doesn't mind wearing his eyes so much, but abhors keeping his scent. He washes his clothes until they're free of his disarming sweetness and then masks himself with an unsettling blend of ambergris, jasmine, and wood. And he is on suppressants all the time—hasn’t had a single heat since the day he killed his master. Hasn't smelled like himself, either.

At the end of the day, it’s manageable being an Avgin in this business, he often comments, spraying half a bottle of masking cologne on himself, but you can't be an Avgin and an omega. Wouldn’t you agree?

You'd know better than me, you reply, noncommittally—and truthfully.

But you're an alpha, he observes. Don't you have an opinion?

You don't pay me to have opinions, you always remind him, stone-faced. You pay me to stand here and look scary. And Aventurine always laughs at this, and he always wires you money and calls it a bonus as he pesters you for an answer, and he always gets distracted and starts scrolling through all his shopping wishlists instead. I saw this thing the other day and thought of you. And this too. Would you like either of them? Would you like them both? I’m a very generous manager, you know. I'll buy you anything you like.

But even though he always gets distracted, Aventurine never forgets. Sooner or later, he inevitably circles back to these questions—these anxieties about his scent, about his eyes, about his blood. He never cares for anyone else’s opinions, but he's always been curious about yours. Even when he was Vasha, he wanted to know what you thought.

He’d been sixteen years old and delirious with heat the first time he asked you, face wrinkling with pain as he spilled his thoughts. It was so incoherent, so sad, you thought it must have been about a fever dream. Mama Fenge, he kept saying. Mama Fenge blessed me, She blessed me, I'm blessed, it rained when I was born—did you know that? My luck, I was lucky. The Katicans, they never caught me. They got everyone else, but not me. I was blessed by Her. I'm going to save my people. I will. I'll save my sister. My eyes are proof. My mistress liked them. Said they're beautiful. Worth sixty whole coppers. A blessing. He pulled you close, pressed his scalding face to your scent gland, and his whole body shuddered with relief. This was the first and only time he'd allowed you to hold him, and it was only out of desperation, out of his mind. Do you like them, alpha? Do you like my eyes? Why? Is it because they're beautiful? Because they're from Gaiathra?

“I like them because they're yours,” you'd replied, and Kakavasha had laughed deliriously.

This is when he told you he hated them: I'd close them forever, if I could.

When you were younger—dumber—you had a habit of squirrelling away every spare coin you came across. You collected them in a little purse that one of the omega slaves had sewn for you—a thank-you for always keeping the other alphas away from her—and you hid it underneath a loose floorboard. By the time that Kakavasha was arrested, you'd saved up twenty-nine Tanba. You’d wanted enough to buy Kakavasha’s freedom and then to set him up for a comfortable life.

It had been a stupid plan. An embarrassing one. If you ever confessed it to Aventurine, he'd laugh at you. Slaves can't buy other slaves, he'd say. Leave the schemes to me next time. You’re too good-hearted for it.

You’d already known that, of course. You knew that you didn't have the status to buy him or mate him or even just provide for him, but you wanted to. God, did you want to—you spent every waking moment thinking about it, every sleeping moment dreaming of it. It wasn't even that you desired him, though he was beautiful and fragrant and more delicate than anything that had ever touched you in your life, which was only your master’s hands and your muzzle and your chains. Aventurine would feel so soft in comparison, you’d always figured. It made your heart ache, thinking about getting to hold something so lovely.

But really—that desire came second. What came first was how mated omegas feel safe around their alphas, and you so desperately wanted him to be safe. Kakavasha had looked so frail, so grim, as your master took his chains and led him home from the market, and you could smell the fear coming off him in waves. And you could do nothing to stop it. You had nothing you could use to stop it—nothing other than your hands that could kill for him and your pheromones that could soothe him and your useless heart that wanted to collect sixty Tanba for him. That was all you had.

So you failed in the end. Of course you did. You didn't have the status to buy him or mate him or even just provide for him. You couldn't even do for him the one thing you could have done—which was to kill. And Kakavasha suffered for your incompetence. He had to dirty his hands with blood and gamble his way into wealth and then suddenly he was freeing you, not the other way around.

And now you are comfortable. You'll lead an easy life from now, Aventurine reassured you when he brought you onto his ship all those years ago, and he's kept that promise. What about you? you'd asked him then. Will you lead an easy life with me, if you're working for the IPC? And he had smiled and lied to you: Yes.

It had been a painfully obvious lie. If you were a smarter person, you'd have never believed it in the first place. Aventurine has no interest in leading an easy life, because an easy life would be less profitable, and less profit would mean less safety. And he is always, always worried about being unsafe. It is indiscernible to everyone but you—an alpha (his alpha, always his, even if he doesn't want you) who has watched over him for so long that you can detect every shift in his scent. No matter how much cologne he drowns himself in and no matter how strong his suppressants are, you know when he is afraid.

And here is the bitter truth, the ultimate proof of your shortcomings:

Aventurine is always afraid.

It is a beautiful day on Agnisahr, and you can tell that Aventurine is about to throw up from worry.

You're sitting in the middle of stunning wealth—Aventurine in his feathers and jewellery, you in your tailored jacket—in a lobby made from marble and pale sandstone, with a view of palm trees and rolling, scarlet sand dunes beyond the window. The waitstaff addresses him as Honoured Guest and they keep his crystal chalice filled constantly with water—one of the most expensive commodities on the planet. Aventurine has been drinking from it religiously, which is strange as he typically has the habit of forgetting to hydrate. A faint wildflower scent is drifting from his slender form. These are the only giveaway to his mood: he's otherwise as pokerfaced as ever, smiling calmly as he discusses his plans to sabotage the local government and acquire the planet for the IPC.

“This is a very dangerous mission,” you state flatly.

“All my missions are dangerous.” He takes a sip, one pinky up. “The IPC pays me well for a reason. As they say—”

“‘High risk, high reward.’ I know.” You try not to sound bitter, though you allow yourself to sound tired. “I still do not think the risk is worth the reward in this case.”

“I think over 5.6 million in credits is a great reward, actually. We could do a lot with that kind of money.”

You raise a brow. “What could an extra 5.6 million get you that you can't already buy?” It is—as Topaz would say—‘chump change’ in comparison to his current wealth, which sums to a number so vast that you can't wrap your head around it.

Aventurine pretends to miss the point. “Tons! We could buy a new spacecraft. Get another mansion. Or—we could take a vacation to Penacony. I hear it's quite nice there.” A playful smile. “I could get us a penthouse unit. With a featherbed.”

You frown. Sometimes Aventurine likes to flirt when you're being stubborn—not out of interest, but as a ploy to distract you. He’d developed the habit after he joined the IPC. It used to fluster you, but now it only makes you cross your arms.

“You could die,” you point out.

“You'll protect me.”

“No, I won't. You always find a way to get rid of me when things are most dangerous.” You give him an accusatory stare. “You never let me do my job.”

He's too shameless to deny it. “And it's worked out fine, hasn't it? I haven't died so far.”

“Yes. Just by dumb luck.”

“I beg to differ. My luck is quite reliable.” He sets down his glass. Glances back outside. A microexpression, brows knotting for the briefest second as he studies the sky. “I'm not worried.”

“You're a shit liar.”

That gets him to look at you, letting a small frown pass over his face. “No, I'm actually a great liar. You're just too good at reading me. It's very inconvenient, you know.”

“I can't help it.” You lean toward him, making a show of it as you sniff. An orchid-like scent—faint but unmistakable—has seeped into artificial ambergris and wood. “It's hard to ignore.”

He hums. He isn't frowning anymore—but doesn't look happy, either. “I should change suppressants.” He taps the side of his empty glass, fidgeting. Aventurine never fidgets: it's an amateur giveaway. “These ones clearly don't work well enough.”

“That won't help. I know you too well.” Your eyes soften. He's looking outside again, the blues of his irises distant. “You're worried, Aventurine. More than usual. Let’s back out of this—let Jade handle it.”

“The mission isn't what's bothering me,” he says patiently. “I just don't like this planet.”

“Because you can tell it's dangerous.”

“No. Well—it is, but nothing I can't handle.” He leans back. “I just dislike the weather here.”

You arch a brow. “...the weather?”

“Yes,” he says neatly, “it's too dry here. I'll break out.”

You open your mouth. Close it. It is possibly the most absurd thing you've ever heard, and certainly the worst lie that's ever come from him. For as long as you've known him, Aventurine has had flawless skin, marble-smooth, and ever since being freed, he’s never really cared much for looking handsome so much as looking rich. But he maintains his serious expression: all-in on the farce. “Did you know that outside the capital, this planet hasn't had any natural rain in a quarter of an Amber Era? And the stellar winds are terrible. I don't know how people live on a planet like this.” His eyes narrow at the cloudless sky. “The IPC is going to need to do a lot of terraforming if they want to make this into a merchant hub.”

“Aventurine.”

“It'll be a pain crossing the desert—the elements will ruin my clothes, you know,” he continues. “It won't be so bad while we're on the ships, but we’ve got to go outside from time to time. Can't make any friends otherwise.”

“Aventurine.”

“And there's nothing to do for fun when we’re not working.” He sighs dramatically. “I can't wait to get our 5.6 billion and leave for someplace else. I'm being serious about Penacony, by the way—”

“Aventurine.”

“—though not about the featherbed. I'll get you your own room, obviously. And I'll buy whatever dream experience you’d like. What kind would you want?”

Finally allowed a chance to speak, you say, “One where you retire.”

“Retire? Why would I ever do that?”

“I don't know. Maybe you decide you've made enough money.”

“No such thing.”

“Then you can settle down with someone.”

That makes him smile. It feels mocking. “Me? Settling down? With who?”

“Who knows. Someone who will treat you better than the IPC, I hope.”

“Anyone that nice would run in the other direction. But never mind me. This would be your dream experience. What happens to you in it?”

“I stop chasing after you and get to live out the rest of my days in peace,” you say dryly, and Aventurine blinks. “Please stop deflecting. The IPC gave you a suicide mission. We will both die if we stay here.”

He looks serious now. “I wouldn't let you die.”

“You can't know that.”

“Well, I do. And I've got decent chances at surviving too—at least one in ten.”

You feel like sighing—a deep, aggravated noise is heavy in your throat—but Aventurine doesn't enjoy it when you show anger around him. It's the one omega instinct that he can't ignore, you suppose: unease around an aggressive alpha. Voice tightly controlled, you say, “You’re going to bet your life on one in ten?”

“Sure. My chances were worse on the last planet, and things worked out great. It'll be the same on Agnisahr.” Aventurine raises a hand, calls for the bill. The conversation is over. You lean back in your seat, watching sourly as he pays tens of thousands of credits just for water.

“You know, they say the royal family is backed by an Aeon,” you can't help but point out, once the waiter is gone. A last-ditch effort. Aventurine smiles at it, amused. Like you're a child.

“So what?” He glances outside, at the desolate landscape beyond the oasis—nothing but red sand, a blue, rainless sky, and two radiant suns shining above it all. “The protection of a god is nothing compared to the schemes of human beings. And gods abandon their people all the time, anyway.”

During your tenth day on Agnisahr, you realise that something is deeply wrong.

It takes you some time to understand what’s happening. At first you think that whatever political danger you’ve intuited is much worse than you thought, and that’s why Aventurine has been so pale, so discomforted, so exhausted. Then his scent starts changing—he switches clothes two, three times a day (because of all this heat during Agnisahran days, he tells his new business associates) and spritzes his nape with his cologne almost religiously—and you wonder if he is sick with something. If the food in this planet has something that disagrees with his Sigonian biology, or if he has picked up one of the local filoviruses, or if someone’s poisoned one of his meals because they’ve correctly identified him as a threat. Aventurine dismisses every single one of these theories when you bring it up, and—as if in denial—only attributes it to the weather. (I’ve never done well in deserts, he tells you, his eyes on his phone screen. I'm not used to them. It is above 300 Kelvin, and you do not see a single bead of sweat on his neck, and his cheeks are not even a little flushed.)

You only figure it out when he is too ill to get out of bed one morning and forbids all the IPC staff from coming near his hotel room. It sets off alarms immediately—Aventurine, no matter how sick, will work and see through meetings as long as he is mentally capable of it—and so you naturally ignore his orders and check on him, using the spare key to his sleeping quarters that you're given as a policy. And as soon as the door cracks open—as soon as you step inside only to be hit with a violent, cloying sweetness—you realise what’s happening and slam the door shut behind you.

“You’re in heat,” you blurt out, and Aventurine—a shivering, panting mess on the bed—groans in response.

“Why are you here?” He turns toward you, still lucid enough to glare at you through the tangled mess of his hair. His voice is weak, but no less self-possessed: “I was very clear—no company today.”

“I am your personal bodyguard,” you remind him mildly. Your voice is calm—both non-threatening and non-condescending. “Those orders don’t apply to me. If things feel suspicious, I look into it. And they felt very suspicious.” Your brow knits as you study his clothes. Mulberry silk clings to his form, soaked through with sweat. Thin, eucalyptus sheets are tangled up around him. There are only two pillows. No water bottles. No knotting toys.

Nothing.

“You didn't know you'd be in heat,” you realise. “What happened to your suppressants?”

“I don't know.” There’s a quiet, frustrated edge to his voice. Vulnerable too. It makes you think of when you were both still slaves, and Aventurine was confined to the basement of the manor—the one that all omega slaves were made to ride out their heats in. Either they would do it alone or were ordered to spend it with some alpha, usually either a friend of the master or an alpha slave he wished to reward. That's when they're most pliable, he'd tell his guests, or sometimes even you. They get so desperate they'll present themselves to anyone. Then amused laughter from the other party—How obscene!—as you looked away, blood hammering in your ears.

You had been your master’s favourite. His most obedient, most profitable pet—striking enough for his guests to admire, deadly enough for his audiences to bet on, docile enough for him to enjoy. Good enough for him to reward, and he often rewarded you with his most beautiful slave: his Avgin omega. Just don't mark him, he’d said, fastening the muzzle around your mouth. It'll ruin his market value. Who knows if someday he'd sell Kakavasha off to some alpha master who wished to claim him, he said. Though I don't think there's anyone in this star system who'd want a Sigonian for a mate, let alone a Sigonian slave. Then he’d paused, eyes scanning over you. As if contemplating. But maybe they'd try to get Avgin whelps out of him, he added, and you felt like throwing up.

You'd never mate him in those moments, your muzzle always prevented you from saying. You didn't even want to think about touching him, and he didn't want to think about it either. Even in the cruel grip of his heats, with nothing but the thin mat beneath him and his slave’s rags around him, Kakavasha hadn't wanted any kind of contact from you, rejecting any chance of solace. Don't, don't—not again, not again, he'd begged. Then as the nights marched on and his mind grew hazier, he’d start whimpering too: It hurts, alpha. It hurts. Help me. It hurts. Don't touch me. Not again. It hurts. It hurts. Stop it, please stop it.

It gutted you.

It went against every instinct, not to touch him. To let him lie there, in scorching, lonely pain, when all you wanted to do was to dispel it. It would be so easy to press yourself against him and let his skin cool against yours, do the one thing that your body was good at other than killing. But not again, not again, I can't anymore, I don't want it, I never wanted it, and all you could do was sit there, unmoving. Watch as the most delicate, precious thing you had in your life shatter.

And standing here now, watching Aventurine shatter before you once more—it is unbearable. He needs a nest, you keep thinking. He needs a nest and some water and some kind of touch, some kind of relief, but not again, not again, and you’re still a slave, still a worthless and stupid slave, and Kakavasha is still crying on a basement floor and you can't do anything for him.

“You need help, Aventurine,” you say, voice soft, and his whole body tenses. His scent dips, and the scent of florals overwhelms you.

“No,” he breathes, “I don't.”

“You do. You're sick.” You bite your lip. Your heart splits as you suggest it, but you say, “I can call a professional.”

“No,” he spits. The facade is gone. The poker face has cracked. The anger and the pain and the fear are all on full display, and his voice sharpens: “No strangers.”

No foreign scents, you realise he's demanding. A new scent would probably make him feel unsafe.

Then let me help you, you think of pleading, but not again, not again, and you're filled with so much shame at the thought that all you can do is look away.

“Then—can I do anything?” He goes still. “Not—not that, but something to make you more comfortable. I can build you a nest, at least—”

“No.” He takes a deep, shaking breath. “No nests. I don't need one—”

“Yes, you do.”

“No, I don't,” he says. His voice is wavering now, on the verge of crumbling with fever and pain. “I've never—I’ve never needed a nest, I don't—I don't want to—” He presses his face into his pillow. “I need—I need to be alone, fuck—”

He doesn't mean to whine. The cry for distress is instinct, something that all omegas are programmed to do in heat. You’ve heard that they’ve evolved to make this noise as a way of appealing to nearby alphas for help, but you think this must be a lie as you never once saw your alpha master giving mercy to any of his omega slaves. Still, whether it is your biology or not—the noise that Aventurine makes has your heart aching so much you can't help but step forward. But he shakes his head and inches away, shuddering violently, and then his voice echoes again in that cold basement—not again, not again, and don't touch it anymore, don't use it anymore, don't use me anymore, not again, and it's all you can do to back away until your spine is pressed against the door.

��I'm sorry, Vasha,” you say, strained. “I’m sorry. I'll leave you now.”

As the door shuts behind you, you catch a final glimpse him—face pressed into the pillows, shivering.

If you didn't know better, you'd think he was crying.

When you were both slaves, Aventurine hated seeing you during his heats.

Kakavasha was normally calm around you. Most of the time, he was even friendly (he was friendly to everyone whom he thought could be useful), but he was different during his heats. Sometimes he was vicious; mostly he was withdrawn. Nearly always, he wanted to be left alone. In those moments, all he could register was your alpha scent and his memories of what other people had done to him during his heats. And while you'd have hated to leave him, despised the idea of him being offered to another alpha—even more than that, you hated violating this boundary of his. Hated that you were allowed to do whatever you wanted to him. Hated being the reason he felt so unsafe.

Hated being an alpha.

Now that you no longer have the orders of your slavemaster hanging over you, it is the least you can do to respect Aventurine’s wish of being left alone. He has every right to privacy, and you have every obligation to give it to him. But instead you have been standing here, outside his door, for a full system-hour.

Every time you try to leave, your body is wracked with anxiety. The thought of other people—other alphas—coming near him in this state makes you seethe, your hands flexing at your side. The predator instinct comes out, and the people around you notice it. Every person unlucky enough to walk down this hall scurries away under your glare, even the other IPC staff wandering about to look for Aventurine: Must be their mate on the other side, they remark to one another, and then they're gone.

It is a hard thing to hear. You are not his mate. You are not even a heat partner. If you were, then he wouldn't be in so much pain. Not now, and not back then.

Aventurine has never had easy heats. You keep replaying your memories of all his past ones, each one a wound in your heart: the aching sweetness of nectar and honey; his withering body as he clutched his abdomen and curled up; the tears and sweat staining the mat beneath him. And above all: the fear. The scent of it, the sight of it, the sound of it in his voice. Stronger today than any other day.

By instinct, you know that he cannot persist like this. That this time is somehow worse than all those other times, and that he will become seriously ill if left alone.

After nearly an hour and a half, you finally open the door, fearing the worst.

“Aventurine?” you say quietly, but there's no response, and your stomach drops as you see him.

His body is pale, listless. If it weren't for the fragrance washing over you or the sweat on his temple, you'd worry that he was dead.

Tentatively, you reach out. Rest a hand on his forehead, and it scorches you. He stirs at the touch, doesn't open his eyes—but the quiet sigh of relief is unmistakable. His fingers twitch, as if wanting to reach for you.

“Aventurine,” you say gently. “Aventurine, I'm going to take care of you. Is that alright?”

He doesn't respond. You grimace, pulling away to fetch things for him: several spare pillows from the closet, an extra blanket too. From his suitcase, you grab a few of his sweaters, all thick cotton and fleece. He’d had a sense that Agnisahr would be cold at night. Deserts always get cold after sundown, since sand doesn’t retain heat, he'd told you while he was packing. Or I think so, anyway. Don't know why. Must have read it somewhere. Then he’d given you a long, unreadable look before saying, Make sure to bring a jacket. The warmest one you have. The elements on a planet like Agnisahr can kill a person—even a person like you.

I’m sure I’ll be fine, you’d dismissed him. I can survive anything. Any kind of weather, any kind of illness, any kind of pain: these are all things your species is known for being able to endure, the trait that made you such a prized slave in your master’s eyes, such a useful agent at the IPC. You hadn’t given Aventurine’s warning any thought and hardly paid attention to what you’d thrown into your own suitcase.

It surprises you, then, that you find one of your sweaters in his luggage. Made from Sedanian cashmere and heat tech designed by the Intelligentsia Guild. Cloud-soft and warm to the touch. Aventurine had bought it for you before you were deployed to Jarilo-IV to collect intelligence for Topaz. Warmest thing in the known universe, he’d commented. One of a kind, too. Remember to wear it, alright? Don't let my money go to waste, now.

You stare at it, kneading the fleece between your fingers. You hadn’t mentioned wanting to bring this sweater. You’d lost it in your closet some months ago and forgot about it. Aventurine must have remembered and gone looking for it, because—why? You aren't sure. Probably because it’s warmer and softer than anything he owns, you guess. Of course he’d want to wear it.

You throw it into the pile of things you’ve collected for him.

You take it all to his bed, the mattress dipping as you sit next to Aventurine. One by one, you scent each item with your wrist, watching him carefully the whole time. You’re quiet as you lay them out around him, leaving him undisturbed as you build a nest. You order water and electrolyte drinks too, and you’re quick about going to the door when you hear room service knocking—with how feverish he is, he probably badly needs it.

Aventurine is awake when you come back. His breathing is still laboured, pained—but calm.

“I said I didn’t need a nest,” Aventurine says, though he doesn’t sound angry. You wonder if he’s too weak to be. His voice is faint, and his eyes are barely open—focused on the pile of blankets and clothing around him.

“You’re welcome.” You open a bottle of water, hold it out to him. “Drink.”

Aventurine pauses, stares at the offering like it's some kind of foreign object. But he accepts it eventually, sitting up and taking it from you. He winces with the movement, which he tries to hide. He ignores your frown as he drinks, and he doesn't stop until the bottle is empty.

“There are more,” you say, pointing at the several additional bottles on the nightstand. “And some food and some painkillers. I don't know how well they’ll work. This isn't a normal heat. If you're alright with it, I'll call a doctor and—”

“Everything smells like you,” he says quietly, and you stop.

“...yes. Unless they’re mated, nests usually feel most comforting to an omega when they smell like an alpha.” You swallow, looking away. “...you don't have a mate, and you didn't want a professional, so this was the only option I could think of. I'm sorry.”

“It’s fine,” he says. He picks out one of the sweaters that have made its way into the nest, the Sedanian one. “I don't mind it.”

“Oh.” You let out a breath. “Then—can I call a doctor?”

His grip on the sweater tightens. “No.”

You frown. “Aventurine—”

“I’ve never needed a doctor before,” he says. He sounds unbothered, but he's fidgeting with the sweater now. “I don't need one now.”

A lie. He almost certainly needed a doctor in some of his prior heats, but you don't push the matter. “Maybe you don't need one,” you say instead, “but it would help.”

“I don't need help,” he says, and you look at him in disbelief. He catches your expression, and the corner of his mouth lifts. “Not more than you've already done, I mean.”

“I’ve barely—”

“Contact Topaz. Tell her I'm incapacitated. Tell her…” He hums. “Tell her I have food poisoning. The personnel too. It's not time-sensitive, our business on Agnisahr, so it shouldn't matter if I need a few days off.”

“You really need—”

“Give my regrets to our Agnisahran friends. Deliver it in person. They see you as my right hand, so they’ll most appreciate it coming from you. Topaz can help you with the verbiage. And—try to socialise with them a little, won't you? I think that little omega princess of theirs likes you. Some of the courtesans too, and they have surprising influence.”

“I do not want to be around any omega other than you right now,” you say before you can stop yourself, and Aventurine stops, blinking. His expression is blank, if perhaps a little curious—but his scent shifts. You can't identify how. You add quickly, “I’m not leaving you alone when you’re this sick.”

“Ah. Right.” Aventurine looks away. His voice sounds strange, and his heat must be getting to him again, because it carries a hint of pain. “But you have to. The IPC’s goals take priority.”

You frown. “Your life is more important than the IPC,” you say, and he laughs. Loudly.

“What? This is just a heat. I’m not going to die.”

“You don’t know that without seeing a doctor.”

“I do. I’m willing to bet money that I won’t die.” He cuts you off before you can reply: yes, you're always willing to bet on your life. “And even if I do, that would still be less important than Agnisahr. Do you know how many resources are on this lifeless rock?” His mouth slants. “If we mess up here, I’m dead anyway.”

“I wouldn’t let them touch you.”

“Yes, you would—because they would kill you too.” Aventurine sighs. His eyes close, and his brow creases—a sign that whatever reprieve he was lucky enough to get is about to end. “Go do what I asked. Don’t do anything stupid. I’ll… see a doctor if you do.”

You stand immediately. “Alright. I’ll be back to check on you.”

“I know.”

You stop at the door, giving him a long look. Seeing him like this—lying on a proper bed, cradled in a warm nest, with water and food and medicine nearby—you feel a little better. This is leagues beyond what he’d been afforded in his days as a slave, at the very least. Even if he isn’t free, at least he isn’t trapped.

But it still doesn’t feel good, having to step away. The last thing you want to do is talk to other people, pretend to have interest in other omegas. There are an astonishing number of them who are interested in you on this planet—that princess, and some baron’s son, and one of the prince’s favourite paramours—but you can’t bring yourself to care even for business purposes when Aventurine is like this. You can't act as if you are enjoying yourself when you know he is in pain.

You wonder about telling Topaz the truth. You wonder if she’d be worried enough about Aventurine to let you neglect this mission and cover for you instead, without letting Jade or Diamond or anyone else dangerous know. Not that you think that anyone at the Company particularly cares about Kakavasha—it’s only that he’s valuable. Aventurine of Stratagems is valuable. How many worlds have fallen because of him?

But he seemed unwilling to bet on his worth to them. Which is startling, given how often he's bet on it in the past.

“What’s so important about this planet,” you can’t help but ask, “that the IPC would rather you die than lose it?”

He’s silent for a long moment. His eyes are closed—hidden—but you can see his knuckles whiten as he clutches the Sedanian sweater.

“Copper,” he says. “They want it for the copper.”

When Kakavasha first suggested a friendship to you, it had felt like something in between a proposition and a threat:

Go ahead, he'd said. Use me as you wish. You can even stab me in the back if you want. Just be mindful of this: I don't make deals that don't pay off.

It might have been a strange way of making friends in any other circumstance, but in a house of slaves, it was a natural one. You had not been a clever person—still aren't—but you understood that your place in the world was one of a tool. This was the place of all slaves: you were all things to be used. Your body was a thing to be used. It was valuable for its strength, for its hardiness, for its threat in the arena and for its convenience in your master’s bed (or in a dark basement, or within a heat house, or inside whichever omega your mistress ordered you to calm down). It did not surprise you that Kakavasha wanted to use it as well. It did not surprise you that Kakavasha expected you to use him in return.

You never would have, of course. Kakavasha was not a thing to be used—he had always been a mate. Though you were happy to let him use you, because all you were was a tool anyway, so it was really all you could offer him: to be used.

None of this has changed for you. You don't think any of this has changed for Aventurine, either. With each new friendship he makes, he repeats those familiar words: Use me as you wish. And with each person who accepts, this is exactly what they do: they use him, and they use him, and they use him until suddenly they notice he's tricked them and they've got the losing hand.

You damned gambler, they always spit. You Sigonian wretch. All you know is how to manipulate people. Thief, liar, cheat, whore. Despite all these insults, Aventurine always smiles at them. Cry as they might, he’s won his bet and has their world in his palms.

Winner takes all, he sometimes gloats.

Winning and losing. Using and being used. Exploitation and treachery. This is all Aventurine knows; these are his great guiding principles in life. (He's told you this point blank, stacking up chips in his favourite gambling dens with a self-satisfied grin.) You often find yourself coming back to these conversations, particularly when you need to convince him of something.

And right now, you very badly need to convince him of something.

Aventurine is ignoring his doctor’s advice. His suppressants are unstable in extreme temperatures, he's been told. During travel on Agnisahr, they'd degraded, and now he’s experiencing his first heat in several years. Of course it's going to be painful, his doctor had said. I can prescribe you some medication to ease the symptoms, but really—nothing will work better than a heat partner. It doesn't need to be a mate. Any alpha will do.

The doctor had been an alpha. You had asked for a beta or omega, but alphas tend to dominate in Interastral Medical Schools, so they're in short supply. Aventurine had been still the whole time, face unreadable, but you could tell he wanted to throw up at the stench of an unfamiliar alpha. You had stepped between the two of them, not bothering to hide the animosity in your voice. We’ll take the medication, you had said, and the doctor had sniffed the air and nodded at you in approval.

Probably won't need it. An alpha like you could sort him out with just a few rounds, he told you, and both of you stayed quiet as he left.

You still aren't talking, or even looking at each other. Aventurine has lay down in his nest again, closing his eyes, while you stand as far away as physically possible—at the door where you'd just shown the doctor out. With the room shut off again, windows closed and door locked, Aventurine’s scent is starting to flood your senses once more. Out of the corner of your eye, you catch him shivering.

“What do you want to do?” you ask.

“Nothing.” He swallows. “I'll be fine.”

He's afraid. You can tell he's afraid. And you can tell he’ll be more afraid if you take even a single step closer to him, so you nod and say, “I'll go pick up your medication, then,” and Aventurine doesn't stop you. You can see him curling up in his nest, face pressed into the cashmere sweater.

But he still doesn't stop you.

After a few more days, Aventurine finally breaks.

There is a rare sag to his shoulders when he calls you to the room, along with a taste of dread in the air. You haven't seen him so vulnerable in years. Aventurine is not an open person, so cunning and self-possessed in his wealth—but Kakavasha was more brittle, more powerless, flayed raw and open even though he didn't often get the whip. (It would ruin his value if he ever scarred—his looks were his greatest selling point, your master said.) He was especially defeated when forced to spend his heats with an alpha he didn't want. You wonder, a vice grip of pain around your heart, whether this entire situation is simply an extension of that. Whether he is calling you here against his will, this time compelled by his pain, rather than his master. Whether this luxury suite feels like that wretched basement to him.

He doesn't look at you when he talks, nor does he sit up. He remains curled in his nest, nearly clinging onto the blankets and clothes.

“That stupid medication,” he pants out, sharp even in his heat, “isn't working.”

“I can tell.” Your brow knots. He’s in so much pain, it is palpable. “I”—you hesitate, voice dropping. “Can I help you?”

He goes quiet. As both Aventurine and Kakavasha, he has always been disinclined to accept help from other people. There is no such thing as unconditional help in his mind—only leverage and weakness. He hates it when people have leverage over him, and he hates being weak. Both are things that can be exploited, and Aventurine always needs to be the one doing the exploiting. He always needs to be in control.

Even like this, the last threads of his sanity about to snap, with every circuit of his omega biology trying to drag him into insensible lust, he fights viciously to be in control.

Winning and losing. Using and being used. Exploitation and treachery. Control and being controlled. This is how he's always lived. This is how he's always survived.

This is the only way to let him maintain control when he is most afraid of losing it.

“I don't mind,” you say quietly, “if you use me.”

Even through the haze of heat, Aventurine’s eyes sharpen. “What?”

“I don't mind if you use me,” you repeat, voice neutral. Unfeeling. The proposal might sound cruel to someone else, but not you. After all—your place in the world is one of a tool, and this is what you've always done as an alpha and a slave: sleeping with people to take care of their needs, or sometimes just their desires. It did always make you feel strangely hollow, but you think it will feel just fine with Aventurine. All you've ever wanted to do is keep him safe, and surely, this will do that, but—

“I'll only help if you want. I don't want to force it.” You lower your eyes. “But if you do want it, I'll be careful with you. You can lead. I promise.”

“...I know.” Aventurine’s voice is weak, cracks with pain, but you can tell he's speaking with clarity. “I know you will be.”

You look up. “Then you'll let me help?”

Aventurine looks away—a sign that he cannot adopt his usual smile. He’s clutching that sweater again, pressed close to his chest.

“Just your wrist,” he says quietly.

You listen carefully. “What?”

“I just—I just want your wrist.” He looks away. “Your—your scent gland. Only that.”

“Okay.”

You get up, then falter. When it was your job to comfort your mistress’ omega slaves, you were told to enter their nests—no permission needed from them, no permission needed from you, because only her permission ever mattered for anything. The omegas were usually too delirious to care, often had even begged for it with the state of mind that they were in. But Aventurine is different. He's not like you, and he's not like them. He's never bent to any of his masters’ wills. And even if he did, you wouldn't want to have him bend to yours.

Instead of climbing into his nest, you ask, “Can I sit on the bed?” He doesn't answer. “Just the edge of it,” you add, and you hear him exhale.

“Fine,” he says, breathing measured.

“Thank you,” you say, and he gives you a confused look. But then you're reaching out with a hand, offering it, and he is quickly distracted.

Aventurine drops the sweater, grabs your hand almost immediately. He turns over your palms, fingers tracing your heartlines—as if testing you, as if mapping out territory. He runs his thumbs along the veins of your wrists, too, right over your scent gland, and you have to force yourself not to shudder at the feeling. You only stay still, letting him explore the contours of your hands, letting him acclimate to the feeling of your skin. He laces his fingers with your own, a latticework trap, and he finally drags his wrist along yours.

Both of you inhale sharply.

You can't react. You know it'll scare him if you do, but it's hard to keep still. The way his scent blossoms, the way it mingles with yours, the way it all washes over you—what you're doing can hardly be called touching, but you feel like you're going mad. Especially when he flushes like that, his vibrant eyes fluttering shut. Especially when the sweetness of honey overtakes your senses. Especially when you can smell the way his body is reacting, all that wetness and heat and slick dripping between his legs. You don't miss the way his thighs rub together, nor the hard outline of his cock straining against his pants.

Aventurine shudders. He brings your hand up to his face, rests his cheek in your palm. His skin is flushed and burning with fever, and it's no wonder that he's sighing with relief at your touch. You try not to stare at the way his mouth falls open. He looks at you for a moment, his gaze a hazy violet and blue—before he closes his eyes again and presses his lips into your wrist.

Fuck.

“Aventurine—” You have to stop, voice strangled, when you feel the full softness of his lips working against your skin. He’s panting now, laboured breaths sweeping over your veins. Then you feel his teeth catch, a gentle nip on your flesh, and when he groans into your racing pulse—deep, relieved, desperate, a noise that makes your gut flare with heat—you realise you can't do this.

You pull back your hand, and Aventurine startles.

“Aventurine,” you say, voice strained. Maybe we should stop, you want to say, but he cuts you off.

“I need”—a shaky breath—“I need more.”

You watch Aventurine carefully. His pupils are dilated, blue irises nearly eclipsed. His cheeks are rosy, and he can't stop panting. You can fully smell his arousal now, even through his silk clothes. He's desperate, needing to be filled.

But he also looks torn. His brows are knotted, and you can taste a faint hint of fear in the air now. His knuckles clutch at the sheets, almost white, and he stares at them. He can't look up. He can't look at you. His whole body is tense, like he wants to bolt—and if he weren't so weak, you think he might actually.

“Are you sure?” you ask.

He doesn't nod. He also doesn't shake his head. His arms clutch at his midsection as he winces. He doesn't look like Aventurine. He looks like Kakavasha. It makes your heart ache as you watch him give into his body’s demands, wearing the same expression he did on the day your master bought him.

“...don't use your Voice on me,” Aventurine—Kakavasha—says quietly.

It takes you a moment to realise what he's asking. “I won't.”

“And”—his eyes somehow grow even more evasive, hidden by his long lashes— “don’t touch my commodity code.”

His commodity code. His commodity code that is seared into his scent gland. His code that, if you kiss, will ease his agony instantly. His code that, if you bite—will chain him to you irreversibly.

“Of course I won't,” you say instantly.

He closes his eyes. Takes a deep breath.

“And—” Aventurine looks away, jaw tight. His voice is quiet but wrought with tension: “—I don't like when people put things inside me.”

Something claws the walls of your heart.

“That's fine too,” you reply. “I don't mind doing it the other way.”

Aventurine’s sigh is nearly inaudible, but unmistakable. His scent shifts a little bit, the wildflower fragrance fading ever so slightly. But he doesn't come to you. He merely sits there—waiting. Expecting. Maybe dreading. Even in the senseless daze of heat, he’s too anxious to move.

You approach slowly. Though you're overwhelmed by the bouquet of his scent, though you feel a curl of heat in your belly in response to it—you are slow. Alphas are supposedly victims of insatiable lust whenever around an omega in heat, absolved of every action they take, but you are convinced this is a lie. You have never once wanted to handle Aventurine with such cruelty. You think that inflicting violence on him, more than anything else, would go against your biology. Every molecule in your body would reject putting him in such pain or inciting such fear. So you are careful when you approach him, slow as you inch up to him—but you do not think it helps.

Aventurine lies down, his face turned away from yours. His eyes squeeze shut, like he's expecting this to hurt. Uncertainty gnaws at your gut as you lean over him, draping your body over his—the only position you've ever taken an omega in, other than mounting them from behind.

(You do not want to mount Aventurine. You never have. It is an impersonal position, a position that omega biology supposedly would force him to enjoy, a position that alphas have likely dictated him to enjoy. You think there is nothing you would hate more. In your weakest, most selfish moments, in your worst ruts, when you’ve allowed yourself to fantasise about mating Kakavasha—you are always facing each other, and he is always looking at you with his eyes you've always loved, and it always feels intimate. Never impersonal. Never dictated. Never forced.)

Aventurine is so honeysweet beneath you. More fragrant than any omega you’ve ever been with. You glance at his commodity code, trying to ignore the scent of his branded skin, then lean down to press your face against the other side of his neck, where a faint scar mars the otherwise flawless slope of his nape. Like every other omega slave you've ever slept with, the scent gland there has been excised: a precautionary measure to reduce the risk of an unwanted mating bite.

(Not unwanted by them—the wants of a slave never matter—but unwanted by their owners. A mating bite would ruin the code seared into their neck, claim an omega more deeply and permanently than any titanium collar or carbon steel chain. It would hurt their resale value. Only owners are allowed to claim slaves in such a permanent way—and the wants of a slave have no relevance there, either.)

It's a funny thing, this surgical scar. Even with their gland missing, you've noticed that most omegas like having their neck scented by you anyway, probably from some vestigial instinct. You guess that Aventurine won't be any different, that maybe it will comfort him. But when your lips skim the scar left on him by his owner, his entire body stiffens beneath you. His fragrance cuts into your lungs, sharp.

You recoil, as if burned by the touch of him.

“Sorry,” Aventurine is quick to say. He tries to glance at you, but his diamond pupils quickly avoid you again. “Don’t worry about me. Just do whatever you need to do.”

“But you're scared,” you point out, and you see his brow twitch. “You’re scared when I touch you.”

“Not scared,” he lies. “Just…”

When his eyes finally look at you—land on your lips—you understand.

A bite would claim an omega more deeply and permanently than any titanium collar or carbon steel chain. If you lost your mind—give into the insatiable lust of an alpha whenever around an omega in heat—you might bite him, and then you would own Aventurine.

And Aventurine would rather die than be owned by anyone again.

He doesn't need to finish his sentence. You already know what you need to do.

“It's okay,” you say gently, and his brow knots. “I have an idea.”

Aventurine is always afraid.

This is a fact that has haunted you since the day you met him. You've wondered about how to fix it—the bare minimum as his mate (always his, even if he doesn't want you)—and you’ve never quite pinned down how. Because when someone has spent their life in perpetual fear, how do you make them feel safe? When their life is constantly at risk, how do you ever make them feel calm?

You still aren't sure of the answer. But after seeing Kakavasha become Aventurine, you now have a good guess.

It is clear from his scent that Aventurine does not feel remotely safe right now. Not when you leave to fetch something from your own room, and not when you return. The anxiety thickens when he sees, in your hands, a very familiar muzzle.

Aventurine stares. He is not smiling, but he also does not reveal his discomfort on his face, even as beads of sweat line his temple. But his voice is too controlled, too calm, when he asks, “You kept the mask.”

You nod.

“I told you to throw it out,” he points out, “when I freed you.”

“I know. Sorry. I don't know why I kept it.” You remember how tightly you clutched it before the incinerator, thinking about how strange it would feel, discarding something that you'd worn everyday since you presented—but you don't tell him this. Instead, you say, “But it’s convenient.”

Before Aventurine can say anything, you toss him the remote.

“You’re afraid of my bite and my Voice, but you don't have to be with this,” you explain. Your tone is gentle, soothing. Probably disarming coming from an alpha, with how he is in heat. Perhaps that's why he’s studying the remote rather than chucking it away. “You'll be in full control if I wear this.”

Control. Mere seconds after you say it, you can smell his fragrance change again, mellowing. It's only a brief moment of calm that fades when you latch the mask onto your face, but he doesn't smell as nearly as stressed before.

Aventurine watches you carefully as the carbon steel swallows your maw, its old and familiar edges biting into you. For the first time in years, you cannot tell what he is thinking—truly poker-faced even to you.

“You aren't bothered by wearing that thing while we do this,” he says—asks?—and you shake your head. The muzzle was part of you for years. You were wearing it when you killed someone for the first time. You were wearing it when you went into rut for the first time. You were wearing it when your master had sex with you for the first time. It doesn't bother you that you’ll wear it when you have sex with Aventurine.

If you could speak, you would ask him, Why do you think it would bother me? But all you do is gesture for him to sit up. To switch places with you. You lie down—something you've never done with an omega—and wait for him to get on top.

Aventurine stares at you for a long, quiet moment. It's followed by a sigh of relief. Disarmed, he—for the first time in any heat you've witnessed—finally relaxes. His scent wafts over you as he climbs between your legs, and you can feel the heat radiating from his hands as he parts your thighs, almost scalding.

He doesn't bother getting you ready, too needy to think rationally, but he doesn't have to anyway. You've been wet ever since you felt his mouth touch your wrist, hard ever since you heard him groan into it. You're equally desperate to get some relief as you feel his cockhead sliding against your opening, leaking all over your entrance as his slick drips onto your thighs. His breath shakes as he enters you, and he can't hear it with how you're muzzled—but you groan just as deeply as him at the tight stretch.

You hear him swear when you clench around him, watch him lean over you. His arms shake as he supports himself, refusing to succumb to his heat even as he chases his relief. You seek out his gaze (just as in your dreams, facing each other, intimate), and his neon eyes catch on your eyes for a brief, breathtaking second—

—before he looks away.

There's a flash of—you don't know what, maybe pain? Or fear?—in his irises as he does. A twitch of the brow, a tell he'd normally rather die than let slip. You have the realisation, as Aventurine moves inside you, that even while you're muzzled, even while he has complete control over you—he still can't stand having sex with you. Probably because he can't stand being in heat in general, you tell yourself. Don't touch me, don't touch me, don't use it anymore, don't use me anymore. He'd have this reaction to anyone.

Still—you didn't expect him to have this reaction to you.

Your hands twitch, possessed by an old instinct to cover your eyes. But you'd probably scare Aventurine if you moved your arms, so all you do is dig your fingers into the sheets and squeeze them shut. You tell yourself again and again that he'd hate having sex with anyone in these circumstances—not just you. And then you tell yourself, as a desperate, broken moan leaves his branded throat, that he would also come inside anyone in these circumstances, caught within the cruel grip of his heat.

Aventurine stills inside you as he finishes. He pants, sweat dripping down his temple as he shudders in his ecstasy, his spend hot and thick inside you. You can feel his fever break as he comes down from his high, the heat coming off his body easing into a manageable warmth.

Do you feel better, you try to say, but you can't move your mouth while your mask is on. So you wait patiently for Aventurine to come back to himself, watching him carefully as he pulls out and rolls onto the mattress beside you. He finally glances at you then. His eyes narrow once they land on you, confusion flicking through them. Then displeasure. He reaches for the remote.

To your surprise, he immediately punches in the code to unlock your muzzle. Aventurine has apparently remembered the numbers after all these years, as if the moment he freed you has been since seared into his memory.

“Are you okay?” is the first thing you say, and Aventurine gives you a confused look. He’s still panting, dazed, so you ask, “Can I check your temperature?” And when he nods, you confirm your suspicion: he's still much too warm.

There is an ache between your legs and a strange hollow in your gut (because you aren't very experienced with receiving, you think—your body likely just isn't used to the feeling of it), but you quickly forget them. All you can think of is Aventurine, and how he’s still unwell, and how you need to comfort him. The instinct is so strong that you don't even say anything as you get up, straightening out your clothes.

“Are you leaving?” Aventurine asks. His voice is neutral, completely unbothered, but the thought is so horrific to you that you turn back to him with wide eyes.

“Of course not. I'm going to get you water and medicine.” A beat. You stare at Aventurine’s eyes, then think about how he hid them from you during sex. The hollow feeling comes back, but it's mostly eclipsed by your anxiety at the next thought: “...do you want me to leave?”

“Do you want to?”

“I—” I'd rather die, you think. Being forced to leave him right now would feel like tearing out a piece of yourself. You don't know if there's an alpha in this world who could leave their mate in the middle of a heat. And even if he is unmarked, unattached to you—you still think of yourself as his mate. (His, always his, even if he doesn't want you.) “I would prefer not to. I am your heat partner. I'm supposed to take care of you.”

You hear a quiet breath. “Right. Of course. You're always so conscientious.” Aventurine nods, as if convincing himself of something. “Try not to take too long.”

“I’ll come back soon,” you promise, and the air sweetens. Encouraged, you add, voice gentle: “I’ll bring that medication, and then we can have sex as many times as you need after I come back. I'll make sure you're not in any pain anymore.” You pause, studying him. “Is there anything else you need to feel better?”

His fragrance changes once more, this time in a way you don't totally recognize. “No.” His voice sounds strange. His scent is still foreign, fluctuating, possibly hinting at some kind of pain. The heat must be getting to him again—and of course it wasn't enough, what you just did, what you can provide. He likely needs to be filled to get any kind of lasting relief, but you left him empty. “No, that's all I want.”

You nod, forcing yourself to look calm. Ignoring the emptiness in your gut. It didn't feel bad, but you hope it'll feel better next time you have sex. You think it will. Alphas are supposed to be filled with an insatiable lust near omegas in heat, after all. And even though you’ve never felt that before—never felt anything sleeping with all those omegas in your mistress’ house—you are sure you'll eventually feel it around Aventurine.

But the feeling never comes. Even though you can tell that his heat has returned by the time you're back—sweat beading his temples, laboured breaths at his lips, his bottoms now discarded, with full evidence of arousal between his legs—you don't feel much of anything as you reach for your mask again.

“Don't,” Aventurine says, before it can clasp around your face. You give him a curious look. He explains, “Don't. I don't want to have sex again. Not yet.”

You stare at him, shifting. Uncomfortable. Uncertain. Not knowing how he wants to use you. “What can I do?”

He gives you a long look. “Come here. I… I want your scent gland.”

It's a sensible request. If there's a way to seek relief without fucking someone—without fucking you, which he clearly hated doing—you're sure Aventurine would prefer it. So you climb into his nest, holding your wrist out for him, and—

“No.” His voice is quiet. “I want the one on your neck.”

“...oh.”

You stand there, not sure where to move. If he wants you in his nest again, or if he’d rather do this standing. You’re relieved when he demands, “Lie down.”

You expect him to get on top of you when you do. Assume that he wants complete control—but he instead lies down beside you. Presses his body into yours, and then his face into your neck. His nose and lips brush against your scent gland, a full-body shudder running through him, and—

—and now you know for a fact that it is a lie that alphas want nothing other than to fuck an omega when they're in heat. Because even like this, with his lips sweet on your neck, with the sheets soaked with his slick, with his spend leaking out of you—you do not want to have sex with Aventurine. You only want to hold him. You only want him to keep scenting you. You only want to scent him back.

You only want him to feel safe.

You breathe in deeply, lungs flooded by honey. You think of what it felt like to hold him in that cold basement, when he was delirious with fever and pain, and you think about how different his scent is now. How much sweeter it is. How much calmer he feels.

“Do you feel better?” you ask, and he doesn't respond, but you know the answer. His hands come up to dig into your shirt, and he presses into you like you're a sweater in his nest. Silence blankets over you both, calm and warm. His laboured breath starts to improve.

He does eventually speak.

“Has anyone ever told you,” he says, “what you smell like?”

You stare at him. Your master used to say that you smelled good, but he'd never elaborated, and you hadn't wanted him to. “No.”

Aventurine breathes in.

“You smell like—” A little sigh, shaking and feverish, leaves him. “You smell like rain.”

Your eyebrows tick up. “Rain?”

“Yes. Or not just rain, but”—he pauses, next words quiet—“more Iike after it rains. You smell like the desert after a rainfall.”

“Oh.” You don't know what to say to that. Feeling distinctly like it's a silly question, you ask, “Is that a good scent?”

“Some would think so. Especially to people from the desert. You probably smell like a blessing to them. Although…”

Aventurine goes quiet again. You stare at the chandelier above you, all crystal and white gold, and wait.

“Although?” you prompt.

“...although I wouldn't really know,” he says. “It’s just a hunch. I bet it's why so many omegas on this planet like you.”

You couldn't care less about those other omegas. All you care about is Aventurine. “And?” you say. “Do you like my scent?”

His reply never comes. He just breathes deeply again, seeking relief from your neck—not intimacy. Any alpha’s scent would work; that doctor told you so. Any alpha’s touch would work, too. There are no special feelings involved here. Your place in the world is one of a tool, and tools are never especially liked nor disliked. Their value exists only in how they can be used.

You don't know why you even bothered to ask the question.

But then something strange happens: Aventurine curls against you, pressing even further into you. His lashes flutter against your pulse again; it ticks up in response, beating fast against his lips.

“I do,” he says quietly. “I do like it.”

You swallow. “But I guess that's because you're in heat. Any alpha would smell good to you, wouldn’t they?”

“No.” His fingers dig into the fabric of your shirt. “No, I like it because it's yours.”

You know better than to read too much into his response. Aventurine had already said it earlier: No foreign scents. He's only tolerating this whole arrangement because you don't smell unfamiliar to him. Only able to use you because you are the least threatening option.

But the words break something in you—break the thing that made you unable to throw out that little pouch of copper coins that you were saving up for Kakavasha’s freedom, the part of you that made you wear that carbon-steel mask for him. It is this part of you that has your eyes squeezing shut and your arms wrapping around him. You know he’ll recoil, reject you, but just this once—you need to try.

Aventurine doesn't push you away.

He melts into you instead, inhaling deeply. Your scent gland tingles with the warmth of his breath, the feeling of his lips. He seems—comfortable.

You can't fathom why he’s staying in your arms. Perhaps he's simply desperate for some kind of relief from his heat, just like when you held him in the basement while he was delirious from pain. But Aventurine had spoken to you with clarity just now, and his skin doesn't feel scalding so much as warm, and his scent is so different than from that moment. So sweet and so gentle, without a trace of fear. It makes your heart squeeze. As much as you've always wanted Aventurine to feel safe, you'd never imagined that his scent would be so beautiful when he is.

It makes your heart ache. You've never held anything so lovely before, and you’ve never felt so warm before, and it all makes up for how badly it hurt to let Aventurine inside you. How hollow it made you feel to let him use you. How none of that matters as long as you can keep him safe like this, because you belong to Kakavasha. You'll always belong to Kakavasha, in a fate that was chosen for you on the day you met him.

You're his, always his—even if he’ll never want you.

end part i

thank you so much to lore for hosting a fantastic collab and to my sponsors who funded this fic and got it over the finish line! please go check out @ficsforgaza to find other amazing hsr writers you can sponsor in order to help fundraise! here is my own wip list, if you are interested in seeing more from me!

and thank you most of all to YOU! I appreciate you so much for reading this chapter. thank you so much for sticking it through.

additional end notes

#彡 favorites.#cw slavery #cw racism #cw violence #cw sa mention #the first sentence with the block letters ): it says I’ve always love you ??? gonna go cry now (I already did last night)#‘your eyes went soft. beneath the artificial fragrance / you finally caught a hint of his family scent’ ‘the way it always is when he’s #scared.’ THIS LINE BROKE MY HEART. his facade is not facading . WE KNOW. WE WILL ALWAYS KNOW #‘nothing of value’ god dammit aventurine i want to shake his shoulders so bad. this is killing me #OMG THE COIN PURSE PART. THE READER IS SO SWEET )))))): OMG. I remember the face I made at that part /pos and I did tear up quite a bit #‘you never let me do my job’ YEAH. what’s up with that ????????? aventurine u turd. I WANT HIM TO LET US LOVE HIM SOOOO BAD HGGGRRRRRRRRRRR #‘no im actually a great liar. you’re just too good at reading me. it’s very inconvenient you know.’ okay i don’t know how to explain how i #feel. but can I say I heard this perfectly in his voice ? and it made me react some way. like jaw fell open kind of way. your characteriza #UGH I HATE THE TAG LIMIT characterization** IS SO GOOD I CAN HEAR EVERYTHING IN MY HEAD it’s like a movie is playing in my brain mhm mhm!!!#also the part where we keep repeating aventurine over and over and he keeps talking about what he could buy ): LISTEN TO MMMMMEMEEEEEEEHHRH #‘it went against every instinct not to touch him’ THIS IS WHAT I MEANT in my word dump )): trying so hard but so conflicted because #as an alpha you can make it better for him. but he doesn’t want that so u respect it. but he’s in so much pain ): UGHHHHHHHHHH #the sweater part . are you serious /pos. this is such a cute little detail ): I’m gonna start sobbing again can we give him the world #‘everything smells like you’ im sorry 😭 we don’t have much to work with mr aventurine BUT HE SAID ‘I don’t mind it’ SO🥺🥺🥺#‘copper’ ‘they want it for the copper’ the way I started laughing because r u serious . I’m actually a little . brow twitched. BROW TWITCHE #oh okay the copper! right. the copper. (the table flips over) be so fr rn /pos #the entire wrist scene I read with one hand over an eye and also hidden under my blankets because I was so tense HEJDKCKJCKD #‘aventurine would rather die than be owned again’ my heart shattered into pieces at this btw #him still remembering the pass to the muzzle ): and the ‘are you leaving’ im literally gonna cry all over again /pos #the neck scent gland fucked me up so bad. and the rain scent. and he likes it because it’s ours . x _ x / T_T #i have thoughts about your other fic but I will probably write them tomorrow because now I would like to re-re-re-read this one 😅#I’ve always loved * for the first tag dammit I can’t imagine how many typos are in this whole thing #TLDR : great work !!! loved this > < <33

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halfricanloveyou · 1 year ago

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ok so i watched the new superman show. thought it was just okay romance wise, nothing very exceptional. the animation was weak in a few areas, i think they should have just gone all out and animated it like an anime, like in the myx episode. loved that battle sequence too!! the rest of the animations with the fight scenes were kind of clunky imo.

character wise i think they’re all pretty predictable and fall into the same boring stereotypes. tenacious and ambitious/spunky ‘tomboy,’ goofy comedic relief third wheel black friend, OP main character who’s main trait is being both responsible for all conflict and saving people from said conflict…yeah. it’s literally danny phantom but instead of being ‘sassy’ clark kent just has anxiety.

HOWEVER…taking into account the episode with the loving and kind gay gorilla and his robot-body-but-human-brain-scientist-husband, clark kent being quite possibly the most peggable fictional character to exist, casually depicting lesbian moms, and most importantly being very obviously and overtly anti US government means i objectively have to give it a 10/10 and say it’s the best tv show i’ve ever seen in my life.

also…it’s definitely a kids show (like probably ages 10+) and i can only assume it’s on adult swim because the people at cartoon network are fucking cowards. let cool stuff back on prime time air and stop shoving it all to after hours!!! sometimes midnight is too damn late!

#srsly as a kid i would have LOVED this show so much #but staying up late on saturday night when church starts in the morning???#my mom wouldn’t have let me #what happened to airing the preteen/teen shows after 7:30-8pm??#we don’t all have a DVR to record shit #moment of silence for my sheltered lil homies who like any form of action show at all #censorship is annoying. why is CN following disney SNP rules???#it’s BULLSHIT #shout out to my homies that don’t care about whatever dumb bullshit studios think kids like and just wanna watch cool sword fights #or laser guns or ninjas or superheros or interesting plots that go beyond stand alone episodes #or realistic conflict that isn’t solved with ‘just be nice and do the right thing all the time and then life will be perfect’#kids who like cartoons and fantasy and superpowers and magic #kids who like cool stuff more than funny stuff or stuff about everyday life or stuff that’s for their appropriate age group #the whole appeal of cartoons for kids like me who daydreamed a lot was that i could use them as an escape #i could daydream about myself in those situations and imagine i was in a world where things were different and a weirdo like me would fit in #i couldn’t do that with average disney channel shows or kids shows aimed at 6 year olds #as a preteen/teen i wanted to do anything and everything to not have to think about how hard things were #sorry i’m rambling i’m in one of my hyperfixation spirals again where i enter into obsessive and cyclical thought processes and get excited #and soapbox-y again…i have too many opinions and i get to excited to share them here #cause i’m not able to verbalize them or express them all completely while explaining them in real life #it’s the ADHD. i spent too much time online again and wasted my whole day without realizing it until it’s too late again #went right through lunch and breakfast too. i have got to stop doing this so much.#nobody even cares what i think i should spend my time doing something i enjoy #rather than spending it typing up pointless paragraphs that are as random and sporadic and hard to follow as my thought process #sorry ya’ll. i will be back again tomorrow to do it again 💕💕

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emoreemadden · 3 months ago

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hii! it’s been a while <3 anyways here’s a request from a friend.

Outline: Gojo doesn’t want to be your friend anymore and tells you straight to your face. Unfortunately, you take it the wrong way.

Content Warnings: fluff kinda?, angst ish???, miscommunication trope 😭 idk not many tags or warnings for this one. lmk if i missed anything

Featuring: Gojo Satoru, fem!reader

A/N: i was supposed to finish this WAYYYYYY sooner 😭 my bad… word count: 1815

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Gojo Satoru. An enigma for sure.

You both have been best friends for longer than you remember. Well, maybe best friends is the wrong term. You said you were best friends, but it didn’t feel that way. At least not to you.

Every time you saw Gojo, your heart would flutter. Perhaps it was normal, you didn’t know. All you knew was that you had some kind of feelings for him.

You just wished he felt the same.

“What’s wrong?” Gojo had noticed you’d been acting different recently. He puts a hand on your shoulder. “You’re being weird.”

You shrug at him, trying to act normal. Even though you’ve always felt this way about him, you’ve only just now stopped bothering to hide it.

“I don’t know.” Your eyes flit to the ground. “Just tired, I guess.”

And Gojo, being the nice guy that he is, pulls you into a hug. It shouldn’t make you feel this way, like there’s butterflies in your stomach. But it does.

You’re conflicted between wanting to cry and wanting to hug him until you two became one.

“You should get some rest.” He suggests, pulling away and flashing you one of his cheery grins.

“I’ll try my best.” You smile back, though it’s not very passionate.

Gojo pats your head. There’s a pitiful look on his face. “Are you still down for lunch tomorrow?” He asks. Always so considerate, yet he’s never realized how you feel about him.

“Yeah, sure.” You try to up the dosage of your weary smile. “You still working on that surprise?” You ask. Gojo’s been planning this for weeks, teasing you about his “lunch date surprise.”

He grins cheekily. “‘Course I am.” His slender fingers fidget with his sleeves. “What kind of friend would I be to go back on my word?”

Friend.

The word taunts you like a bully, but you push the thought away. It’s all you’ll ever be, anyways. Friends.

You chuckle when you snap back to reality. “A pretty shitty one, I’d say.”

“Language, young lady.” He teases. You open your mouth to say something, but his phone rings.

“Sorry, I gotta go.” He gives you an apologetic look. “I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah? Be prepared!” He looks giddy.

“Yep.” You reply tightly. “Bye, ‘Toru.” You wave as he walks away.

“Do I buy her flowers or something?” Gojo says to Suguru over the phone.

“You’ve been thinking about this for weeks. Why has it only occured to you now to get her flowers?” Suguru replies, and Gojo can practically hear him rolling his eyes.

“Well I don’t normally confess to my best friend-” Geto tuts before he can continue.

Gojo sighs. “Okay, girl best friend. Better?” He asks.

“No, but continue anyways.” There’s an awkward pause on Gojo’s part.

“I’m nervous.” Gojo finally admits. “I’m like, really nervous.”

Suguru chuckles. “Gojo Satoru, the strongest Sorcerer there is, is nervous to confess to a girl.” He says, his laugh getting louder. “You can’t be serious.”

“Oh shut up, would you?” And Geto only laughs harder, his chuckle turning into full blown howling.

“Fuck off!” And with that, the call clicks off. Gojo sighs, shoving his phone in his pocket and falling back onto his bed.

“I’m screwed.”

You sit at the cafe Gojo had invited you too weeks prior, sighing as you stare at the clock.

“Where is he..?” You mutter to yourself.

Suddenly, as if on cue, he strides in as giddy as ever, looking around for a minute before spotting you and grinning.

“There you are!” He says as he sits down at the table with you. He’s sweating slightly, like he’s anxious.

You smile back at him, and immediately it feels like there’s a thorny rose in your belly, poking you from the inside. “Hey ‘Toru.”

He beams at you. “Did I keep you waiting long?” He asks, giving you an apologetic look for being a few minutes late.

You shake your head. “It’s alright. Now would you please tell me what your little surprise is?”

“Well I can’t give it away so easily!” He pouts playfully. “You haven’t even ordered.” He notes the empty table.

You sigh, before flagging down a waitress. “Can I please get two iced coffees?”

The waiter notes down your order and runs off, leaving you to stare at Satoru expectantly. “Yes I have.”

He tuts, rolling his eyes. “We’ll get to the surprise later. For now, tell me how your day is going.”

So you do. You two talk for a few minutes, and you practically forget about the surprise, until he reminds you.

“Alright, I’ll tell you your surprise now.” He says after the waitress leaves with Gojo’s order of a tiramisu cake and two spoons.

You perk up, curious to find out what he’s been alluding to for so long.

He takes a deep breath. “I don’t think we should be friends anymore.”

You can almost hear the sound of your heart crunching as he steps on it with his words.

“What?” You squeak, tears forming in your eyes.

Gojo stares at you, confused. “Didn’t you hear me?”

You swallow thickly, feeling bile rise in your throat. “But… why?” You feel your tears rolling down your cheeks.

Gojo is alarmed, staring at your crying face. “Why are you crying? Do you… not feel the same?”

You shake your head feverishly, about to open your mouth, but the waitress places down your cake before you can speak.

Gojo looks down at the cake and then back up at you, his expression dimming.

“So you want to be friends?” He asks, sounding heartbroken himself.

You nod, confused. “I thought you did too!” Your chest swells with hurt.

Gojo seems completely distraught. He tries to speak, but nothing comes out. “…No.” He finally says, looking down at the ground.

You stand up from the table with your purse, placing down a few bills before sniffling, trying to wipe your eyes. “I’m going home.” You mumble, turning to leave.

Gojo just stares at you walk away, feeling his spirit burn. “Oh.” He whispers, looking down at the cake on the table.

You hop in your car, tears streaming down your face rapidly as you grip the steering wheel tightly. Your head collapses against the wheel and your body convulses as you sob, shaking like crazy.

You knew Gojo would never feel the same way about you as you did with him, but you thought you’d at least always be friends.

You whimper as you curl up into a ball in the driver's seat, too upset to drive.

Meanwhile, Gojo is inside the cafe, eating the cake silently while he stares at the second spoon.

He’s so confused. He had a sneaking suspicion that you’d reject his love for you, but he didn’t expect you to do it so heartlessly. You cried, for god’s sake! He hadn’t predicted for you to be so opposed to the idea of being more than friends with him.

He feels his heart clench when he remembers your face after he confessed. He sighs, finishing his desert before leaving the cafe defeatedly, his hands in his pockets as he walks home.

The second he opens his door, he collapses against it, sliding to his knees and curling into a ball. He thinks for a moment, before calling up Suguru.

“Have you done it yet? What did she say?” Is the first thing that comes out of Geto’s mouth when he picks up. The reminder of the whole debacle just makes Gojo even more sorrowful than he already was.

“She rejected me.” Gojo says solemnly. The air falls silent for a few moments.

Geto is the first to break the silence. “What did you say?” He finally asks.

Gojo sighs. “I said I didn’t want to be friends anymore.” He replies.

A beat of silence passes.

“And?” Geto urges.

Gojo, confused, replies. “And what?”

“And then what did you say?” He asks.

Still extremely confused, Gojo pauses. “…Nothing.” He says, a hint of uncertainty in his answer.

Geto, with a loud sigh, rolls his eyes. “Are you dumb?” He asks.

“Huh? What’d I do?!” Gojo frowns.

“You goddamn idiot, she probably thought you meant you didn’t want to be friends at all!” Suguru slaps his forehead, which is heard from Gojo’s end of the line.

“Because I don’t!” Gojo protests, now even more confused.

Suguru heaves with annoyance. “She thought you didn’t like her anymore, dumbass.”

Another beat of silence.

A wave of realization hits Gojo. “Oh, fuck.” Is all he says before hanging up and hopping to his feet, running out the door to go find you.

Luckily, on his run to your house, Satoru sees your car still parked outside of the cafe. Panting like a madman, he walks up to it and knocks on your passenger door window, startling you back into your surroundings.

Your eyes widen when you see Satoru awkwardly waving at you through your window. Your eyes are puffy and red from crying, which he notices.

He taps your window, as if to say ‘open up!”

You sniffle as you roll it down, rubbing your eyes.

“Hey, I think you misinterpreted what I said back there.” He gestures to the cafe, his sentence broken up by loud, heavy breaths.

“Why are you so tired?” You ask in return.

“I ran here.” He replies, giving you a lazy grin before he continues with his explanation.

“When I said I didn’t want to be friends anymore, I meant because I want to be more than friends.” He begins, poking his head through your open window to get a little closer to you.

“I really, really like you.” He confesses, a light blush tinting his cheeks. “And I don’t want to be friends. I want to be your boyfriend.”

You stare at him for a few seconds, before letting out a breathy laugh. “Of course you screwed up like that.” You mutter, pinching the bridge of your nose as you smile.

He ignored your little jab. “So? What do you say?” He asks. “Please don’t reject me, I ran all the way here.” He begs.

You laugh again, rubbing your red eyes and unlocking your car door. “I don’t want to be friends either, Satoru.”

His eyes light up at your statement and he immediately throws the door open, fitting himself into the passenger seat before he turns to face you.

“Really, you mean it?” He asks excitedly, looking at you with hopeful eyes. “You don’t?”

You smile. “Not at all.”

And with your confirmation, he grabs your face and pulls you in for a kiss, gently wiping your past tears as he does so.

He pulls back for a second to grin at you. “Thank god, because I was not ready to run all the way back home.” He jokes before going back to kissing you.

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ellecdc · 4 months ago

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Hi!! I’ve been reading your poly!marauders x femreader and was wondering if you could possibly write about the reader having a vision while being with only the marauders, and how they would react and help reader without Barty or Reggie being there to help her? Maybe the vision can be another cute moment with the boys and reader not wanting to tell them what she saw and trying to walk away but they stop her and eventually get it out of her? Also,I love how you write the characters and portray their relationships :) Thank you so much!!!

This ended up a bit angstier than you had requested? But I think our girlie-pop needs to work through some of her shit before we’re really leaning into the cutesy stuff so I hope this works for now! It’s not like I’ve already got the next part planned or anything…….. 👀😅

poly!marauders x seer!reader where they witness her first Sight alone

CW: fem!reader, angst? w/ a happy ending, hurt/comfort, reader still stubborn as all hell, boys still relentless as ever - but we’re getting somewhere folks!!

There was no sense in feeling agitated with the Marauders; you noticed a simmering resentment bubbling up within you whenever your mind began to stray towards them, but it could hardly be considered their fault.

Just one of the many consequences of the ability of Sight; gradual feelings forming over ideas and thoughts and imagines that aren’t real, haven’t happened, and may never happen. There was an undeniable soft appreciation - dammit, maybe even love - for the three boys growing in your heart, but it hurt.

It hurt because it was an outcome of experiences that they haven’t had, that they haven’t shared with you; it was simply feelings for versions of these boys that don’t even exist yet.

But it was becoming difficult to separate your Sights of them from them; it was becoming harder and harder to remind yourself that the love you were feeling wasn’t real, at least not yet.

Yet.

That was the worst part - yet - seeing as none of these supposedly sweet moments taking place between you and the boys have ever really taken place, save that one of your impromptu Hogsmead date.

And whatever agitation you felt only tripled when you heard their voices in the library and your face broke out in an involuntary smile.

Stupid lovesick girl.

“There’s our princess!” Sirius cheered loudly as he spotted you, earning him more than a few severe glares from surrounding tables as he sloppily (and loudly) plopped himself onto the bench at the table across from you.

“Do try not to get us kicked out when we’ve only just found her, yeah?” Remus muttered quietly, though he seemed no less pleased with his boyfriend despite his scolding.

Sirius made a dismissive scoffing sound as Remus took a seat beside him and James across from him (and, decidedly less importantly, beside you). “I’d like to see them try; my family paid for this sodding library.”

“Charming, Black.” You muttered as you kept your face pointed towards the notes in front of you.

From your periphery you could see Sirius flash you a salacious grin; all sharp canines and cocky attitude. “Thanks dolly; I think so too.”

“You’re exhausting.” You let out with a sigh.

“I have been told I’m ex-”

“-Exhilarating, we know.” James finished for Sirius, seemingly already knowing exactly what the boy was going to quip.

“See? Everyone agrees.”

“Feel free to ignore him.” Remus interjected then, looking at you softly.

So softly. In ways you’ve Seen him do many times but have never yet experienced.

It made you ache with want; wanting so badly for it to be real and then hating yourself for wanting it at all.

“You okay, dove?” He asked then; apparently seeing the conflict on your face.

And wasn’t that just the icing on the pastie.

“No, actually, I’m not.” You huffed as you began to pack up your things.

Sirius said your name then; all teasing and flippantness gone from his tone as he sat up straight. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-”

“No.” You grumble; standing now but closing your eyes and pointing your face to the ceiling in frustration.

‘It’s not you, it’s me’ sits on the very tip of your tongue, threatening to spill out but you just can’t bring yourself to release the words.

You hate this feeling; the lack of control in the direction that your life was seemingly going, moving through the motions unwillingly as fate pulled on the strings of your soul like some poorly mistreated puppet.

“Don’t go.” James all but whispered then; his hand seemingly aching to reach for yours but clearly resisting the urge.

That only made you feel worse.

You let out a breath and started to lower yourself back to your seat on the bench when you recognized the familiar feeling of your consciousness being pulled elsewhere; the dreaded sensation of being submerged under cold water followed by the neurons firing in your brain as they were gently plucked from their existing pathways and ushered towards a new reality.

No, you begged hopelessly, not here, not now.

Your vision blurred through the tears that threatened to spill from them; placing your elbows on the table in front of you so roughly that it left your fingertips buzzing, you covered your face behind your hands and fought to steady your breathing.

“You’re okay, dove.” Remus whispered from across the table; his leg under the table creeping over to apply pressure to the inside of your calf. You were thankful for the grounding it provided.

“Can you look at me, sweetness?” Sirius asked quietly as James tried pulling gently at your arm.

You shook your head quickly and tried to say no, but all that came out of your mouth was a choked sob.

“Okay, that’s okay.” Sirius relented evenly as James moved his hand from your forearm to rest gently between your shoulder blades where it began making soothing swipes against your jumper. “You’re alright, yeah?”

All he got was another sob in response.

You felt James shift in his seat; legs straddled over the wooden bench so he was now facing you.

“C’mere angel.” He cooed at you, gently yet firmly encouraging you into his chest by a hand on your shoulder.

You melted into him.

“You’re alright; you’re just fine.” He said again.

You flinched slightly when you felt a gentle hand grip your ankle.

“Sorry, dovey.” Remus murmured softly, rubbing his thumb over your Achilles tendon apologetically before pressing it to a soft spot on the outside of your ankle.

“Come back to us, pretty girl.”

Your knees buckled beneath you as you nearly fell into your seat; two strong arms quickly caught you by your elbows before James carefully lowered you to the bench.

“Easy, doll.” Sirius coached calmly albeit worriedly from across the table as you heaved in a much needed breath. “Easy.”

You felt your sinuses swell as you took a few more breaths, realising belatedly that you had three boys that you were rather quite taken with staring at you in one of your most vulnerable states.

They already had so much of you - much more than they may ever know - you didn’t want to give them this, too.

“You’re okay, dove.” Remus whispered from across from you; his leg under the table creeping over to apply pressure to the inside of your calf. You were thankful for the grounding effect it provided.

“Can you look at me, sweetness?” Sirius asked quietly as James tried pulling gently at your arm.

You shook your head quickly and tried to say no, but all that came out of your mouth was a choked sob.

All he got was another sob in response.

You felt James shift in his seat; legs straddled over the wooden bench so he was now facing you.

“C’mere angel.” He cooed at you, gently yet firmly encouraging you into his chest by a hand on your shoulder.

You melted into him.

“You’re alright; you’re just fine.” He said again.

You flinched slightly when you felt a gentle hand grip your ankle.

“Sorry, dovey.” Remus murmured softly, rubbing his thumb over your Achilles tendon apologetically before pressing it to a soft spot on the outside of your ankle.

“Come back to us, pretty girl.” Sirius whispered.

“I’m sorry.” You admitted; voice pinched emotionally as you continued hiding behind your hands.

“There’s nothing to be sorry for, lovely girl.” Remus assured you as James pressed a kiss to your hair. “Nothing at all.”

“I hate-” You paused around a pathetic hiccup as you finally deigned to pull your hands away from your now likely puffy and tear stained face. “I- I just-”

“You don’t have to explain.” Sirius offered at your next hiccup. “Just keep breathing.”

You realised only as Remus resumed moving his thumb back-and-forth against your ankle bone that he had paused to track your pulse much like he’d seen Regulus do that first day in the Great Hall.

A bitter taste filled your mouth when you thought of that Sight too; how much of your supposed ‘relationship’ with these boys would be of you breaking down in front of them?

“I hate seeing things that aren’t real; that haven’t happened, with versions of people who don’t even exist yet.”

James let out a sympathetic breath at your words as Remus’ brows furrowed forlornly.

“Do those versions not exist yet or have you just not given them a chance to?” Sirius asked you slowly.

You made a pained sound as you straightened from resting against James’ chest; you pretended not to notice the look of loss that crossed his face and ignored the same feeling aching within your chest.

“People can surprise you, y’know?” James offered then; hope colouring the vowels of his words as he spoke.

“I’m sure that, whoever they are,” Sirius started pointedly. “Would love the chance to be whoever you needed them to be.”

“That’s the problem.” You groaned, though you were sure they could tell that the fight was quickly oozing from your body with every swipe of Remus’ thumb or stroke of James’ hand against your shoulder blades. “I don’t need you to be anything.”

“So it was about us.” Sirius asserted; all caution vanished from his face and was quickly replaced with mirth.

You snorted incredulously at him and wiped roughly at your eyes as a reluctant smile spread across your face. “You are such a prat.”

“We could be your prats.” He quipped.

“Is that what you need, angel? Do you need some prats? Sirius and I are well versed; might need to coach Rem a bit but he’s a quick learner.”

“For Godric’s sake.” Remus sighed with a tired smile. “We’d been doing so well boys.”

“I hardly see how, seeing as you all made me cry.” You jeered as you pointed your nose in the air, causing all three boys to exclaim various objections.

“We’d only said hello.” James cried as Remus watched you stand and hike your bag over your shoulder thoughtfully.

“What was it that you Saw, then?” He asked; still smiling though his brows dipped challengingly.

You stared down at him for a few moments, though there was no need to search his eyes for clues; you suspected that he knew.

“This.” You admitted quietly.

A smile spread across Remus’ face; it was slow and pointed but you didn’t know quite what it meant. Yet.

“I’m glad I got to see it too.” He murmured with a smirk.

You tried to hide your blush as you left the library, fighting the urge to giggle like a schoolgirl the entire way back to your dorm.

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forlix · 1 year ago

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· . ˚ 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲'𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞

— the moments in which the members of stray kids realize how they truly feel about you.

words・1.4k / pairings・ot8 x gn!reader / warnings・depictions of conflict and anxiety in hyunjin's and han's / genres・domestic fluff, smidges of hurt/comfort, established relationships

a/n・thought i'd try out a new fic format :-) i had so much fun writing these and hope you like reading them just as much. any and all feedback is appreciated, as always!

chan is in a heated staring contest with his notepad when the door opens, and he knows that it’s you who comes in, but his head is miles away, tangled in an amalgamation of syllables and rhythms. he goes on to forget that you’re here for a short while, poring over the unfinished lyrics in front of him with undivided focus. that is, until he feels a gentle hand on his shoulder.

you’ve just pulled a chair up next to his desk. “lemme see,” you say, gesturing to the notepad. there’s a surprised pause, and then chan places it in your hand, scoots closer to you.

you spend the next two hours talking him through his block, but there are periods when you fall silent to brainstorm or to write something down, and chan takes those quiet opportunities just to look at you: wearing one of his old t-shirts, your hair still damp from your shower, completely concentrated. and he knows, then, that he wants to marry you.

minho doesn’t realize he loves you in a singular moment. rather, he has a faint inkling for some time, and then the rug is randomly pulled from beneath his feet, and all of a sudden he can’t remember a version of his world that didn't have you at its center.

there are times when he’s especially aware of his feelings, though. like when he throws a witty remark in your direction and your retort comes back twice as sharp. when your eyes and smile light up like lanterns as you talk to him about your passions. when one (or all) of his cats hover at your side as you go about your day. when he returns home after a grueling practice and you’re there to offer him your comfort, no matter his withdrawn demeanor or sweaty skin.

he is a quiet lover, and sometimes he worries that he’s too quiet, that you have no idea what’s going on inside him every time he looks at you. but words have never really been necessary with minho. you know. you just do.

changbin is greeted by a chilly breeze when he emerges from the gym, and he silently chastizes himself for forgetting to bring an outer layer yet again. but the temperature moves to the back of his mind when he spots you, waiting on the sidewalk, as you said you would. a familiar grin breaks across your face when you see him, and he feels its shape against his lips when he runs over and kisses you, in lieu of hello.

“what are you feeling for dinner?” you ask once he’s pulled away, and he realizes that you’ve pressed something to his chest: one of the hoodies that he keeps at your place, still soft and warm from just coming out of the dryer. and boom—the epiphany hits him, instantly and unequivocally.

he is dumbfounded for a moment, just processing the newfound discovery; and then, out of nowhere, the two of you say the name of the same restaurant at the same time. he swears he never believed in soulmates until he met you.

hyunjin has always held so many emotions in his heart so fervently, to the point that they sometimes overflow in the form of words that he doesn’t believe, in a tone that he doesn’t intend. and it happened again today, when he spoke to you the wrong way in a moment of pure impulse, and the surprise on your face morphed into poorly-disguised hurt.

a few hours later, the weight of his actions sits heavily on his shoulders. when he lifts his phone to call you, his hands are shaking a little, and a breathy apology spills from his lips the moment he hears you on the other end: “i’m sorry, angel. i’m trying, i promise. i really am.” to which you answer, “i know, hyune. i forgive you. we’ll keep trying together, okay?” and your words pull his heartstrings in a new direction entirely.

he asks if he can come over, you say yes, and he tells you he loves you as soon as you open the door. he’s done hiding his heart from you.

jisung’s contagious grin and raucous cackle come easily to him for the most part, but there are times when he forgets how it feels to laugh or to breathe, times when he wants only to hide from the world and all of its scariest parts. and when you see his figure in the doorway tonight, his face cast in a nameless shadow, his shoulders sunken in quiet defeat, you understand immediately that this is one of those times.

“do you wanna talk about it?” you ask as he approaches you. silently, he shakes his head: not tonight. but his body language asks for what he cannot verbalize. you extend your arms toward him, and he buries himself in them the second he’s close enough to, his face nestling the crook of your neck, the tension in his limbs melting at your gentle touch. you stay there for a long time, rubbing circles between his shoulder blades, coaxing him back to the ground, back to you.

wherever he chooses to hide, he thinks he’d like to take you with him.

when felix opens his eyes, the space in the bed next to him is empty, and the faint scent of flour and sugar wafts through the gap beneath his door.

he gets to his feet, throws on some clothes, and wanders in the direction of the smell, rubbing the sleep from his eyes—and the sight that awaits him makes him wonder if he’s still dreaming. you’re standing at the stove, still in your pajamas, hair slightly disheveled from your rest, and there are pancakes in the frying pan before you; sliced strawberries on the cutting board next to the stove. and the look of sheer focus on your face, as if staring at the pancakes will cook them faster, absolutely destroys him. (and he knows in that moment that he wants to wake up to you for the rest of his life.)

with an enamored smile, he wraps his arms around your waist, pulls your back to his chest, and presses a light kiss to the nape of your neck. “morning, beautiful,” he mumbles sweetly. “how fucking lucky am i?”

being around you makes seungmin feel like a kid with a crush. he smiles brighter and laughs louder. he opens like a lotus in bloom when you say his name. the floaty sensation he gets when you kiss his cheek or hold his hand persists for hours afterward—and none of it makes any fucking sense to him. it’s not that he doesn’t believe in love, but he’s never believed that love could feel like this, straight out of a sonnet.

now, your head is on his shoulder, your body rising and falling in your slumber. seungmin looks at your interlocked hands where they rest on his knee, and at the current track displayed on his lockscreen: “still” by day6, a song about losing and loving, about regret and reminiscence. those bright days between us are over, the lyrics go, and he makes a silent promise to your sleeping form that the bright days between the two of you will never end.

the word "love" still doesn't cross his mind, but it is etched all over his face, and carved into his soul.

you and jeongin are telling each other about your days over dinner when your phone lights up with an incoming call, and he nearly spits out his mouthful when he sees who it’s from. for a few seconds, the two of you just stare at each other in flabbergasted silence. but then, you raise your phone to your ear: “hi, grandma! to what do i owe this pleasure?”

and the voice of his grandmother comes back through the receiver. she tells you that she’s just gone on an evening walk and found herself thinking of you, so she wanted to see how you’re doing; if you’re taking care of yourself. you rush to thank her, looking entirely flustered, and a bit like you’re about to burst into tears.

with that, the two of you launch into chatter about everything under the sun: grocery store discounts, the recent humidity, jeongin’s bad habits, you name it. and it finally dawns on jeongin how inextricably embedded in his life you have become—and that he doesn’t want it any other way.

𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤? please consider reblogging, commenting, or sending me an ask to let me know; or, read my other writing here. thanks so much for the support ♡

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baptismbaby · 5 months ago

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⚘. ANYTHING

ex!ellie x reader

summary: it’s been years since you broke up with ellie. the last time you saw her was at graduation. you’ve completely moved on and you’re going on dates here and there with different women. but after running into ellie, you’re feeling conflicted as old feelings start resurfacing.

note: a continuation of LADWABAYD, just set many years later. i know i said I didn’t want to add more because i wanted to leave it up to interpretation. buuuut… i felt like adding more. listen to anything by adrianne lenker

warnings: slightly angsty, fingering (r!receiving), thigh riding sorta

You took a sip of your coffee as your date, Sarah, was showing you pictures of her dogs. She kept having to set the phone down to push her short, reddish brown hair out of her face. “Sorry,” she apologized once again. “I’m not used to having it so short.”

You hummed a response and smiled at her. “Don’t be sorry.”

“Do you like it by the way? You haven’t said anything about it.”

“Well, it definitely caught me by surprise but I think it looks nice.”

“Thanks,” she said as her cheeks slowly turned pink. “I remembered on our last date that you said you always liked short hair.”

“Is that why you cut it?” you asked.

“Yeah, is… that okay?”

“I mean, do you like it?”

She shrugged. “It’s different but I do like it, I think.”

“That’s all that matters, then.”

You smiled once again and began to drown her voice out as she picked her phone back up to show you more pictures of her dogs. How strange, you thought, this is only your third date with her and already she’s changing herself for you. You almost felt bad, considering you decided this was the last date you’d go on with her. You already knew you didn’t want to see her again but plans were already made. You would’ve felt crappy calling it off or standing her up. Your plan was to act as disinterested as possible, fake a concerning text from Dina (which was scheduled to be sent any minute now), then tell her tomorrow you’d think it’d be best due to the “circumstances” that you stop seeing her. Sure, it was evil, but you knew you weren’t a match for her. You were certain there was someone else out there who’d love to see the same photos of her dogs and hear about how her ex boyfriend sucked.

Suddenly, your phone dinged, and you fought back a sigh of relief. You looked at your phone and gasped at the stupid meme Dina sent you.

“What is it?” asked Sarah.

“Dina… she… just texted me and um… fuck, I’m so sorry. Sarah, I have to go,” you blurted out as you stood up and yanked your purse from the back of the chair.

“Oh no! Is she okay?”

“I’m not sure, I’m about to go find out.”

“Okay, sure. I’ll text you later to check in on you.”

“Thank you. Sorry, Sarah. Bye!”

You rushed out before she could say anything else, ignoring the sick feeling that settled in your stomach. You were certain that there was an easier way to “break up” with her, but she was too nice. You got in your car and sped off, slowing down once the cafe was out of view. You couldn’t wait to get home, shower, and spend the rest of the day lounging around doing a whole lot of nothing. But first, you wanted to stop by the gas station to get a few snacks.

You pulled up to the gas station and hopped out, walking inside and greeting the cashier. As you wandered towards the aisles, a familiar figure caught your eye. You turned to look and saw a girl looking at the drinks. You stood there, watching her as your heart sped up. There was no way it was who you thought it was. You were obviously confusing her for her and it’s really some stranger. She opened one of the fridges and grabbed her favorite drink, and once you caught a glimpse of her tattoo, it was already too late to leave. She had turned around and made eye contact with you. You felt your heart sink as your breathing slowed to a stop. “Ellie,” you whispered.

“H-hey,” she breathed out. She slowly stepped towards you and you did the same until the gap between the two of you was closed. “Wow, I wasn’t expecting to see you here.”

“Me neither.”

Ellie’s eyes traveled down to your lips, then down to your clothes then back up. “You dressed up to go to the gas station?” she joked. You chuckled a little bit and studied her outfit, which was sweatpants and a grey shirt.

“I see you did the same,” you shot back.

“Pft, yeah.”

The both of you stood there silently, awkwardly smiling at each other and waiting for someone to speak up.

“So… how have you been?”

“I’ve been okay. Just… working, you know. How about you, Ellie?”

“Same,” she responded. “Dina told me you work in that building by that um… one restaurant we always used to go to.”

“Yeah, I do.”

“You like working there?”

“Mhm. It’s nice, clean, and the pay is good,” you said.

“Great, I’m glad.”

The pain in your chest was almost becoming unbearable. She looked beautiful, even in her worn out clothes, and looking in her eyes made you want to cry. It had been awhile since you’ve felt this familiar pain. In a weird way, you almost missed it. But you’ve forgotten how to keep it inside. You felt tears threaten to spill and fall down your cheeks. You blinked them away and took a deep breath.

“I should let you go,” you mumbled. “It, um, it was really nice seeing you, Ellie.”

“It was nice seeing you too.”

She said goodbye and walked past you. Her scent filled your nose and you shut your eyes, taking it in as you fought hard to not cry. You walked into the aisle and picked up a bag of powdered donuts and headed towards the counter as she walked out. You watched Ellie through the glass window, smiling to yourself when she glanced back at you. She got in her car and drove away.

You couldn’t sleep. Ever since you saw Ellie a few days ago, you couldn’t stop thinking about her and it kept you up. You glanced at your phone and sighed. It was two a.m. and you had to go to work at six. You decided you were gonna call off. You needed an extra day to relax and try to rid your thoughts of Ellie. That day, you called Dina sobbing. Dina came over and comforted you and assured you that your pain was valid. She also filled you in on everything going on in Ellie’s life. She was working just outside of town and spent her days off writing songs or visiting Joel at his farm. She told you that Ellie had texted her about you two running into each other, and that she decided to spend a few days at Joel’s to clear her head. “She’s grown a lot,” Dina’s words rang through your head. “If you want to contact her, it’s okay.”

You typed in her number, shocked that you still had it memorized, and sent a quick text.

Hey, is this Ellie?

You set your phone down with a sigh. You almost felt stupid for texting her, especially since it was almost the middle of the night. Now you for sure won’t get any sleep because you were too nervous waiting for a response and she definitely had to be asleep already. You shut your eyes anyway, trying to force yourself to get drowsy when suddenly your phone dinged. You reached over and picked it up, your heart fluttering when you saw the text.

Hey you

I’m sorry for texting you so late…

Don’t be sorry, you know I don’t mind

I know I know

So what’s up?

Honestly nothing

I really just wanted to talk to you

Me too:)

You smiled. As you were typing a response, your phone rang. It was Ellie. You hesitated before answering and slowly brought it to your ear. “Hello,” you said, although it sounded more like a question.

“Sorry, I just wanted to hear your voice.”

Once again you could feel your heart fluttering as your cheeks burned. “Don’t be sorry, Ellie. I… wanted to hear your voice too.”

Ellie breathed out in relief and chuckled. “Can’t sleep?”

“No. I’m guessing you can’t either?”

“Nope, I’m wide awake.”

You giggled and rolled over on your side, putting the phone on speaker and placing it on the pillow next to you.

“I haven’t stopped thinking about you,” said Ellie in a low voice.

“Me neither.”

“Ever since I saw you, I’ve been thinking about everything that happened in the end.”

“Ellie,” you almost whined. “Let’s not… talk about that. Over the phone, I mean.”

“Yeah, you’re right… we should talk about it in person,” agreed Ellie.

You bit your lip as you thought about what to say. Would it be too weird to invite her over now, in the middle of the night? Or would that come off as desperate? Before you could say anything, Ellie spoke up. “If you want, I could come over so we can talk about it.”

“Y-Yeah, yeah that’s fine. I’ll text you my address.”

“Sounds good. I’ll see you in a bit, then. Bye.”

“Bye, Ellie.”

After she hung up the phone, you sent her your address.

You’re pretty close. I’m at Joel’s rn and I have to put clothes on. Be there in about 20 mins

You quickly hopped out of bed and opened up your drawer, grabbing a pair of pajama pants and shoving them on. You headed into your bathroom and turned the light on. You brushed your fingers through your hair until it looked decent. You scoffed at the sight of bags under your eyes. Oh well, you thought. It’s not like Ellie would care. You left the bathroom and checked yourself out in the full body mirror, pulling down on your tank top a bit while you turned slightly to make sure there were no stains on your pajama pants. You walked out your room and sat down on the couch, your eyes watching the door intently. You couldn’t believe this was happening. You didn’t think you and Ellie would talk about the past so soon, let alone hang out. You hoped you could stay strong and not embarrass yourself in front of her. You really were over it and you didn’t know what else could be said about everything. But deep down you knew you never got over her. You haven’t been in a relationship since, you always found an excuse to break it off with a girl you were seeing, and you definitely had a type. They all had at least one similar feature of Ellie, whether it was freckles, their hair length, eyes, etc. You wondered if she did the same as you.

A knock at the door made you flinch and ripped you out of your thoughts. You got up and unlocked the door, slowly opening it to see Ellie in an old band shirt and some jeans.

“Ellie,” you greeted. “Come in.”

“Hey, sorry if I took too long. Couldn’t find a clean shirt. Borrowed one of Joel’s.”

“It’s fine, you aren’t late. How’s Joel doing?”

You shut the door behind Ellie, following her as she made her way to the couch. She didn’t sit and stood there, looking around at all the decorations you had up. “He’s good. All he does is tend to his farm and watch westerns all day,” she said with a chuckle.

“Ah, so the same thing he’s been doing for the past ten years?”

“Pretty much.”

Ellie sat down on the couch and you did the same, sitting on the other end. “And how are you?”

“The same, how about you?”

“Also the same,” you replied.

“Good.”

You could hear your heart beating in your chest. For a second, you felt embarrassed as if Ellie could hear it too.

“Ever since I saw you the other day, I’ve actually been… I don’t know. I feel strange.”

“How so?” you asked.

“Haven’t been able to stop thinking about you, about… us,” she shook her head and leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. “About how I fucked up,” she muttered.

“Yeah…”

“I never took accountability for the shit I did. I was an idiot for cheating on you with Lila.”

“Ellie… it’s okay.”

“No, it’s not. It wasn’t fair to you and I never got to truly say how sorry I was. I want us to have a fresh start if we’re back in each other’s lives again.”

“I appreciate it, Ellie. And I forgive you. Hell, I forgave you years ago.”

“I never forgave myself,” she whispered. “You’ve been on my mind since the day you left my dorm for the last time.”

You furrowed your brows and crossed your arms over your chest, leaning back into the cushions as you focused on Ellie and her words.

“I’m not telling you this because I want you to feel sorry but… just to fill you in on what has happened since everything. I hated myself for a long time. I don’t think I stopped hating myself until a year after graduation. Even then, I didn’t feel worthy enough of anything. I’ve tried going on a few dates but it wasn’t the same. So I gave up on all that. I chose to work on myself instead. Sure, there were a few times I was interested in seeing a girl but I couldn’t do it. It wasn’t…” she trailed off, her eyes wandering away from you and down to the floor.

“I’ve tried going on dates too,” you mumbled. “Actually, the other day… I was on one and made Dina text me so I could get out of it. I don’t go on many dates but I do it every time. Whether I’m interested or not, I come up with an excuse to not be with them. I know it’s horrible. I just can’t do it.”

“Is it because of me?” questioned Ellie. You sent her a sad smile and shrugged.

“It was at first. I mean, it still is but for different reasons. They aren’t you.”

“Remember when I told you that I would never stop trying to make things right?”

You nodded.

“I want you to know, I only stopped because I… love you and knew you didn’t want me anymore. I stopped out of respect for you.”

You were silent. You allowed Ellie’s confession to hang in the air and it felt as if it was surrounding you, ready to swallow you whole. You took a deep, shaky breath and let it out slowly. You cleared your throat in hopes the tightness would go away but it didn't. “I've always wanted you, Ellie,” you uttered, your voice cracking when you said her name. “Even when you cheated on me. All I ever wanted was you. It wasn't just the act of you cheating that made me leave, but also I believed I wasn't enough and… I loved you and respected you enough to let you go. Find someone else who could fill everything I left empty.”

You looked up at Ellie as a tear slid down her cheek. She sniffled and brushed it away quickly, sitting up straight and scooting closer to you. You did the same until your knee barely brushed hers.

“You were always enough for me,” said Ellie. “I was a fucking idiot. I'm sorry I made you feel like you weren't enough. You always were enough.”

“Fuck,” you breathed. “I… wasn't expecting the conversation to go like this.”

“I'm sorry.”

“Don't, Ellie. It's fine. We needed this.”

You raised your head to meet her gaze and immediately felt calm. She looked so beautiful with her tear filled eyes and her pouty lips. How was it that so much time had passed and yet you still love her as much as you did before, despite everything? You believed her apology, you believed Dina’s words that vouched for her, and you started to believe one day, the two of you could try again. It was too soon. She was a stranger to you now and you were a stranger to her. And yet, you couldn't stop yourself from leaning forward just to steal a kiss.

Her lips met yours finally, the two of you breathing in harshly at the contact. It was gentle at first, almost hesitant, until she placed her hand on your cheek. You deepened the kiss by wrapping your arms around her neck and pulling her closer. Without thinking, you lifted yourself up and over her thighs to sit in her lap. Her hands found themselves at your waist, gripping tightly as if Ellie was scared you'd pull away and never kiss her again. She picked you up and began to walk blindly until your back touched the wall. She pulled away for a brief second to pull your tank top over your head. You lifted your arms to help her remove it and watched her throw it behind her. Ellie let out a soft moan at the sight of your breasts.

“You’re so beautiful,” she whispered. Her hands cupped your tits as her lips peppered kisses down your neck. You let out a whine, running your fingers through her hair and tugging the strands. She staggered away from the wall and glanced through the nearest door frame to make sure it was your room. As soon as she saw your bed, she carried you inside and laid you down on the mattress. You stared up at her in awe as she yanked her shirt up over her head, unbuckling her jeans and pulling it down along with her panties. You quickly shoved your pajama pants off and threw it to the side. She crawled on top of you, stopping every few seconds to plant kisses along your exposed skin. Your breath grew shallow as her fingers slowly crept up towards your pussy. She used her pointer finger to gently apply pressure to your clit, grinning when your body jolted from the feeling.

“I missed this, baby,” she cooed. “Did you miss me?”

“Mhm,” you whimpered.

Ellie finally stuck a finger inside you. You moaned out her name and gripped the sheets. “E-Ellie,” you whined. “Fuck, I missed you!”

“I know, sweetheart.”

She replaced her finger with her middle and third and brought herself up so she was hovering over you face to face. Ellie kept a steady, painfully slow pace, carefully watching your face twist in pleasure. She didn't want to miss anything, afraid this would be the last time she got to make you feel good, and wanted to make it last as long as possible. She kissed you again, this time slipping her tongue between your lips and circling it around yours. As the kiss grew more passionate, the speed of her fingers increased. Your moans filled her mouth as her thumb brushed against your clit, her fingers curling up inside you and hitting your g spot. It had been too long since you had sex with her and since you did anything to yourself. You could already feel pressure building up in your lower stomach. You pulled away from the kiss and began speaking frantically.

“Wait, wait, wait, Ellie, I-I’m close and I-I don't wanna cum yet,” you begged. Ellie removed her fingers from inside you and brought them to her lips, sucking them off and moaning at the taste of you.

“My sweet girl,” Ellie whispered.

“Ellie…”

Ellie placed a knee against your cunt and used her hand to guide your hips up and down. “You like that, baby? Think you'll last longer with this?”

“Mhm,” you responded.

“Good… just like that, honey. Don't stop.”

She reached down to lift your leg up so she could grind herself onto your thigh. She breathed in harshly at the contact, letting out a soft groan and squeezing her eyes shut. “F-Fuck,” she hissed.

Within minutes, both of you had sped up the movement of your hips. The room was filled with obscene noises spilling out from both you and Ellie’s lips. You tried your best to remain eye contact with Ellie, the intimate act only making you get wetter.

“E-Ellie,” you moaned. “I… I love you, y’know th-that?”

“I know,” she breathed. “I love you t-too.”

Ellie’s breath became jagged as she grew closer. You could feel once again in the pit of your stomach that you were close too. The movement of your hips became sloppy from desperation. All you could focus on was Ellie and your need to cum. Your whining had raised in volume as the feeling got stronger. Within seconds, both you and Ellie’s bodies began to convulse as an orgasm took both of you over. Ellie buried her face in your neck, your nails digging into her shoulders. Once it was over, Ellie collapsed onto you and rested her head onto your chest.

You fought to catch your breath as you stared off into space, shocked that this had happened. You never thought you'd see her or fuck her again. But for the first time in years, you genuinely felt happy and whole. You knew you couldn't give Ellie up but you also knew the two of you had to refrain from doing this again. You had to get to know her all over again, as did Ellie with you. You were alright with that, partially scared, but it was worth it. But that was a conversation for another time. Anything, as long as it meant having Ellie back in your life.

#baptismbaby<3 #ellie williams #tlou2 #ellie williams tlou2 #ellie williams x you #ellie williams x reader angst #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams smut #ellie x fem reader #ellie x reader #ellie the last of us #ellie tlou #ellie smut #ellie x you #tlou part 2 #tlou #Ellie tlou2 #smut

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lustfulslxt · 9 months ago

Text

Ruin Me - Chris Sturniolo

summary : chris accidentally sends y/n a text meant for nate, ultimately fessing his desire for her. y/n takes action into her own hands.

warnings : swearing, smut, slight daddy kink

a/n : based off of these texts

—

The silence feels incredibly loud as she stares down at her phone with her jaw dropped. She can’t even count how many times she’s reread the last few messages she’s received from Chris, who’s only just a story below her.

She has been spending the past few nights over at the triplets’ house, which is a common occurrence, seeing as her and Chris are best friends. She never once thought her presence was anything of a burden for any of them. Her mind immediately ran with the worst with Chris’ first few messages.

However, as she continuously reads the last couple over and over, she can feel a foreign feeling building inside her. A feeling she’s never felt for Chris until now, or more so one that she’s kept beneath the surface in favor of their friendship.

The longer she takes to respond, the more anxious she makes herself. She’s conflicted. Does she go downstairs? Does she text him back? Does she set boundaries?

Her decision is made when she finds herself subconsciously making her way down the stairs leading to his room, fully ready to give in to temptation.

As she stands outside his door, her heart and mind are racing. Is she really doing this? Before she can talk herself out of it, her fist is knocking on the wooden door.

On the other side, Chris is frozen looking at his phone. Read 10:56 PM. It’s currently 11:10 PM. His nerves are bubbling and anxiety is brewing in his stomach. He can’t help but feel like he ruined everything.

As soon as he hears knocking on his door, his face drains of color. He can only assume it’s Y/N. With slight hesitation, he makes his way over and opens the door.

“Hi.” She whispers with a small smile.

“Hi.” He breathes, then continues, “I’m sorry if I overstepped. I never wanted to make you uncomfortable or anything along those lines. We can just forget I ever said anything.”

“Can I come in?” She asks, ignoring his statements.

He opens his mouth, only is at a loss for words, and opts for opening the door wider for entry. She strolls in, stopping in the middle of the room, and turns back to face him. He slowly shuts the door, his heart rapidly pounding in his chest, unsure of which direction their conversation will go.

“So-“ He begins, only to pause because he’s waiting on her to say something.

“Do you talk about me often?” She asks.

He stammers, “W-what?”

“You said you meant to send that to Nate.” She reminds him, “Do you do that often?”

His cheeks grow hot as he scratches the back of his head. “Um, kind of. Yeah, I guess so.”

“Can I see?” She asks him, eyebrows raising.

His eyes widen, his lips curving inwards. “I-I’d rather you not.”

All she does is nod, standing there in silence.

“I’m sorry I made things awkward.” He groans, tossing his head back at his own stupidity.

She walks over to his bed and sits on it, kicking her feet. He only watches her, attempting to get a feel for what she’s thinking. Usually, he can read her through and through, but he’s much too nervous right now to even comprehend anything other than the fact that he’s screwed things up.

“Boy, stop standing there and come sit down.” She rolls her eyes.

He quickly shuffles over to the bed, sitting next to her, but makes sure to leave at least a foot gap between them. She glances at the space and rolls her eyes once more, sliding over until their bodies are aligned side by side.

“Can you please say something?” Chris asks, eyes wide. “I’m like freaking out over here and you’re not saying a single word. Let me know what’s up.”

“I wanna see what you say about me.” She repeats, nodding towards his phone beside them. “Either that, or the pictures that I know you have.”

“Y/N, come on!” He whines.

“Okay, fine.” She shrugs, standing up to leave.

He quickly wraps his hand around her wrist, tugging her back to the bed. As soon as she’s seated, his fingers are working on his phone, reluctantly pulling up what she wants to see.

He gives her a nervous glance, only receiving a pointed look from her. Taking a deep breath, he slowly gives the phone to her, which she eagerly takes.

As she scrolls through his camera roll, her mouth slowly falls open. At this point, Chris is pacing in front of her, his breath seemingly caught in his throat.

His phone is completely loaded with numerous pictures of her. Some are just selfies of them together, her alone. Others are random off guards that one would take of their best friend. Then, there are the not so normal ones.

Y/N looks up at Chris, causing him to halt his movement under her stare. He turns to her with a sheepish look on his face, and she can’t help but smirk a bit.

“Out with it.” He rolls his eyes, laying his hand out as if indicating for her to speak her mind.

“You’re a little freak.” She giggles.

He chokes on his saliva, as her response was unexpected. “Okay, can we move past this now?”

“No.”

“No?” He repeats, his face falling.

She shakes her head with a hum, “I could’ve swore you said you want me convulsing under you?”

She goes to pull her phone out to show him the messages when he quickly steps forward, stopping her from pulling up the facts to prove her statement. His hands are holding hers in place, their eyes locking.

It feels as if everything around them stopped, like they’re the only two things that exist. Their breaths become uneven due to their close proximity. Their heartbeats racing to become one. In this moment, nothing else matters.

Y/N swiftly tosses her phone aside and grabs a fistful of his shirt, yanking him down onto her. Their lips meet for the first time ever, finally crossing that forbidden threshold.

Relief floods through Chris, soon being replaced by excitement and desire. He’s been longing for this moment for what seems like forever. The feeling is surreal, he can’t help but put everything into their kiss. Y/N feels almost content, like this is that one thing she’s been missing in life.

Their kiss soon escalates, growing hot and needy, the two of them desperate for one another. Chris places one of his hands on her neck, softly gripping it, his other hand setting on the bed beside her head. Y/N runs her hands up his torso, wrapping them around his neck and moving them into his hair.

Chris quickly breaks away, “I want this, you, more than anything, but I don’t want to ruin anything between us.”

Y/N’s face flushes a rosy color as she stares up at him. Her hand meets his cheek, softly caressing it as she admires his beauty. She leans into him, planting multiple soft open mouthed kisses on his lips. She places one more, deep and passionate, savoring the taste of him on her tongue, and pulls away, tugging his bottom lip between her teeth.

“Ruin me.”

Those two simple words went straight through Chris, traveling all the way down to his dick. It begins throbbing with need, hardening beneath his pants. He stares into her eyes for another second before slamming his mouth on hers, yearning for all of her, and gladly accepting everything she’s offering.

His grip around her neck tightens, pulling her impossibly closer as their kiss grows hungry. Their tongues meet in a wet and sloppy frenzy, tangling together in an intricate way. Heavy breathing fills the air, along with the smacking of their lips.

Desperate for more, Y/N bucks her hips up into his, the feeling of his erection digging into her core, eliciting a moan from her mouth. Chris’ eyes damn near roll to the back of his head from the sound she makes, and he’s determined to hear more of it.

His mouth pulls away from hers, strings of saliva keeping them connected. He begins kissing down her jaw, his tongue gliding between his lips. He travels lower and nips at her neck, leaving a trail of saliva in his wake. He breathes her in, becoming intoxicated by her sweet scent. The smell of her peach shampoo and her vanilla body wash consume his senses, causing his mouth to water. His teeth graze the sensitive skin, sucking and biting on it, bruising it by the time he pulls away.

Y/N is left breathless beneath him, her mind foggy with lust. She can feel her heart thumping in her chest and she’s sure he can feel it too. Her hands stay tangled in his hair, holding him flush against her as he works her neck. Her skin is burning with desire and she’s never been so pleased with her impulsive decisions the way that she is right now.

Chris’ hands slip under her shirt, running up her abdomen. She feels like she’s on fire beneath his touch. His hands make their way over her bra, harshly squeezing her breasts, pulling another moan from her throat. He’s practically getting drunk off of her sounds, soaking in every little whimper and whine that falls from her lips.

He pulls back from her, swiftly removing his shirt, his chain dangling around his neck. Y/N sits up to remove hers, with his eager assistance. His hands go behind her back, unbuckling her bra, letting her shake it off her arms. He quickly flips her over so she’s bent over the side of bed.

Leaning over her, his erection presses into the back of her thigh, causing her to moan in anticipation. He moves her hair to the side and presses his lips against the back of her neck, causing goosebumps to form on her skin. She’s barely holding it together with the way his entire being consumes her. She’s relishing in the way his mouth feels on her, the way his hands caress her, the way his needy cock is pressed so hard into her, desperate to be buried inside her sopping core.

Chris continues working down her back, his tongue gliding over her smooth skin, nibbling on it every which way as he goes lower and lower. His fingers hook into the waistband of her bottoms, swiftly pulling them down, along with her panties. He tugs them further, until he’s able to pull them completely off and discard them to the side.

He pauses, taking in the way her glistening pussy peaks from between her thighs. Her plump ass looks so squeezable and he just wants to lose himself in her. His hands engulf her cheeks, kneading with the perfect amount of pressure, slowly pulling them apart as he massages them in circles. He can see her lips opening, exposing her entrance, as he does so, causing him to groan in satisfaction.

“Can’t wait to feel you around me.” He hums, spreading her legs apart to see more of her.

She only lets out a whine as the cool air meets her hot center. Her hands grip the sheets beneath her as her pussy clenches around nothing. Chris admires her desperation from behind, a proud smirk pulling to his lips.

He leans down and sinks his teeth into the plush skin of her ass, eliciting a pleased moan from her. His tongue slides between his teeth, soothing the sharp pain. Peppering wet kisses along the fat, he brings his hand to her inner thigh, slowly trailing upwards towards her core.

“D-don’t tease.” Y/N whines, pushing herself back into him.

“Shh, gonna make you feel so good.” He mumbles against her ass.

He latches his mouth on the plump tissue, sucking down and biting it, leaving purple and red bruises. His fingers slither up against her pussy, sliding along her folds, pulling another lewd moan from her.

He gathers her juices with every swipe of his fingers, leaving her legs damn near trembling. She’s never needed something like the way she’s needing him, tears almost pricking in her eyes from her desperation. Finally, he presses two fingers into her entrance, a long moan falling from her lips from the way he fills her.

“So fucking wet for me.” He groans, bringing his face closer to her heat.

His tongue flicks over her outer folds, her arousal coating his tongue, causing him to hum at the delightful taste. Pulling his fingers out, he replacing them with his tongue. Continuous moans leave Y/N’s mouth as she indulges in the way he devours her.

His hands grip her ass, spreading it as he dives in deeper. His tongue slides down to her clit, lathering it with his saliva. His nose presses against her entrance and he can’t help but breathe in her natural scent, his cock throbbing from pleasant smell.

“F-fuck, so good.” She cries out, pressing her face into the mattress.

Licking all of her juices up, he sucks her folds before pulling back, leaving her breathless, whiny, and dissatisfied.

“Can’t wait any longer, baby.” He breathes, “Need to feel your sweet little pussy squeezing my cock.”

He pulls at the drawstring of his sweats, loosening them enough to pull them and his boxers down. His dick springs out, bouncing up against his abdomen. He hisses from the cool air, eager to feel the wet warmth her pussy provides. He grabs the base of his member, pumping it a few times, before swiping it in her folds to lubricate it, and aligning it with her entrance.

He slowly sinks into her, moans emitting from both of their mouths. She squeezes her eyes shut from the slight pain as he bottoms out, filling her up entirely. His hands tightly grip her hips, throwing his head back from the sensation her soft walls provide.

“So tight.” He grunts, slowly pumping in and out of her. “God, I knew you’d feel good, but this is unreal.”

Y/N moans from the feeling of him fucking into her, along with his naughty words. She can’t help but clench around him, pushing back into him further.

Chris picks up the pace, his pelvis slamming into her ass as he buries himself in her. The sound of their skin slapping fills the room, their pants and moans adding onto it.

His hand travels up her back, wrapping around her hair, yanking her head back. He uses it as leverage to speed up his thrusts, digging deeper into her core. His tip repeatedly kisses her cervix, pulling loud pornographic moans from her mouth.

Her face contorts in pleasure, her body ridden with euphoria as he fucks into her so good. He leans over her, his bare chest firmly pressed against her back. His hand wraps around her chin, pulling her head back as he looks down at her, admiring how fucked out she looks. Drool falls from her mouth, her eyes rolling back as he digs deep.

“Mmm. You love being fucked like this, don’t you?” He groans into her ear.

She cries out in broken moans with every thrust, “Y-yes, yes. You feel so good, so so good daddy.”

His pace falters at the name that fell from her lips, taken aback by her sudden use of it. It ignites something animalistic in him, causing him to thrust deeper and harder. He lets her head fall back into the mattress, pressing both of his hands into her back as he drills into her.

Tears fall from her eyes at the overwhelming pleasure, she could practically feel him in her stomach. Their bodies glisten with perspiration, their skin sticking together everything they connect.

“Fuck, so good. This pussy was made for me, no?” He grunts as he continues pounding into her.

Y/N’s mind is hazy with bliss, unable to form a single word in response to his question, only giving him loud moans that fuel his ego and bring him closer to his release.

“I asked you-” He starts, rough strokes in between his words. “-a question.”

“Nghh. Y-you, just for you.” She forces out through her moans.

“Oh, I know it, baby. All for me.” He moans, “Just wanted to hear you say it.”

The building knot in her stomach tightens before snapping, bringing on her orgasm. Her legs tremble beneath him as she clenches around him, her juices pouring out of her and coating his dick, producing a squelching sound as he pumps in and out of her.

“Such a dirty girl.” He pants.

Hips sputter and his pace grows sloppy and erratic, his release sneaking up on him. His hands grip her ass, squeezing it as he moves it up and down against him. His stomach tightens, his thighs slightly shaking as his hot cum spurts out, painting her inner walls. Both of them moaning from the feelings, he stills his movements after a few more pumps.

He slowly pulls out, wincing from the feelings and collapses right next to her. She turns her head to look at him, her face flushed red and her damp hair sticking to her forehead.

“Still look as good as ever.” He smiles at her, pulling her hair from her face.

“You owe me $50.” She breathes, matching his smile.

He stares at her in shock, “Wait, what?!”

“Plan B, dummy.” She giggles.

“Hm. Now it’s dummy, two minutes ago it was daddy.” He teases.

—

taglist : @luv4kozume @worldlxvlys @flowerxbunnie @sturniolowhore @creamoncreamoncream2 @lvrsparadise @iluvm4ttsturni0l0 @tillies33ssss @mattsfavwh3re @its-jennarose @sophssturn @defnotayonna @ksskianshd @d0wnbad4chris @braindead4l @avasturn

#lustfulslxt #joss speaks #sturniolo triplets #sturniolos #the sturniolos #chris sturniolo #imagine #christopher sturniolo #sturniolo smut #christopher sturniolo x you #christopher sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo x you #chris sturniolo x reader

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married-to-google-translater · 9 days ago

Text

Request: Ok, but imagine this: any of the Yandere Diasomnia boys with a multilingual fem darling. I myself speak English, Spanish, and French. If the boys cross a line, their darling. Will. Snap. If she’s really mad, there’s a good chance that yelling will be in Spanish or French. Thoughts? I hope this isn’t too much. I’m sorry if it is.

@onehellofashadynerd

Sebek is here

This is for Malleus and Lilia

Yandere Lilia Vanrouge

Awwwwwe it's cute that you think you can hide something from Lilia.

Oh dear it really wouldn't be that easy.

Despite his youthful nature, Lilia would have lived a very long life.

He would be great at understanding hidden meanings and small gestures.

You two really don't need to speak the same language for him to understand what you mean.

Lilia would find this interesting.

It's never too late to learn a new language.

However, you really weren't willing to teach him anything at all.

Which would be understandable after the kidnapping.

Lilia would decide to learn the language on his own.

Oooh, this is going to be interesting.

Your surprised expression when you realize Lilia understands what you're saying in the middle of an argument would be worth it.

Unfortunately, Lilia would learn things REALLY fast.

You'd better enjoy this benefit while you still can.

Yandere Malleus Draconia

A lot of funny situations could arise from this.

Malleus would admire your ability to speak several languages and learn them quickly.

He thinks this could help you adjust to your "new home".

Your new home that would be your home even if you don't necessarily want it.

Oh you could speak many foreign languages with him.

Malleus really wouldn't understand what you were saying.

If you said an insult in a friendly tone, Malleus would think it was cute for him.

Oooooh you made him so happy.

Of course when he finds out the true meaning of the word you would be punished.

Malleus really doesn't like it when you yell at him, and he likes it even less when you yell in a foreign language.

It would be a reminder that you would have had a life without him.

A possessive dragon doesn't like to be reminded of that.

If you continued this, you would probably get "time out".

A nice way of saying that Malleus puts a sleep curse on you so he can cuddle you in peace.

How to resolve conflicts in a relationship 101

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hana-no-seiiki · 7 months ago

Note

Ohh I got soooo many ideas, like CV reader got kidnapped by black mask (I think it's red hood nemesis, am not that deep in DC comics but I know the basics) so he could have a deal or take information out of red hood using CV reader. And when Jason found out about it he was pissed but when he got there the bad guys already down because CV reader took them down.

P.s I don't mind if you use this as a reference to make a headcanon or story on contrary i would love to read it, but it's up to you!!

🎧ྀི » [ what a catastrophy ! ] «

0:00 ─〇───── 0:00

⇄ ◃◃ ⅠⅠ ▹▹ ↻

tw/cw: yandere, jason being horny/implied noncon, cat villain! reader being an absolute menace and a whore as always.

pairings: yan! batfam x cat villain/vigilante! reader

note: this happens after conflict between jason and other members of batfam are resolved and at that point cat villain! is more solidly on the cat vigilante! side

“How long is this going to take exactly? I’m about to take an involuntary cat nap with how utterly slow you all are being.”

The Court of Owls were a group of people you’ve absolutely despised on every era you’ve had under your cat mask. Whether it was your wild years as Cat Woman’s protégé or when you were basically assimilated as the Batfam’s shared s/o. You could never bring yourself to like absurdly rich people that well. Much less rich people who do bad things.

For legal and safety reasons, you have to say that the Batfamily are an exception.

You don’t know how on Earth they managed to get their hands on equipment that prevented your powers from working, but it was proving to be quite the annoying conundrum.

“I’m sorry but I’m feline a little too underwhelmed by this whole kidnapping thing. Why don’t we hurry things up a little?”

MEANWHILE . . .

“Where the hell did you take them?!”

Jason slammed Black Mask unto the wall, using the backside of his arm and pressing it against the man’s chest.

The latter’s men took a defensive, alert stance. Ready to pounce on command.

But Black Mask only gestured them to stand down.

“You have to understand, the fact that I even thought of informing you of my deal is a huge risk. I could lose my biggest benefactors.” He replied, calm and polite. In contrast to the harsh kick he deals to his assailant, making Jason back off. “I’m doing you all a favor. I’m doing [Cat Villain Name] a favor.”

“They’re currently on a private island to the south. I can’t give you the exact coordinates but here’s the general location.” He tossed a flashdrive, one swiftly caught and skimmed through by Tim.

“Why are you helping us?” Damian’s mind was already calculating the best way to get rid of everyone in this room. The grip on his katana tightening by the second. He had full faith that you were capable of taking care of yourself, but it did not help with the fear of disappearance whatsoever.

He was sure that the sight of you getting hurt would lead to him going on a rampage.

“Maybe the fact that even with my help, you kids being too late would open their mind and make them come back to our side. They’d finally learn that you’re only as good for them as Batman was to —“ Damian couldn’t stop himself anymore, knocking the man unconscious as the rest of the crew took down his goons with ease. Their worry over your current condition giving them a surprising amount of efficiency as a team.

“It’ll take several hours to even get to those islands much less even find which one . . .” Tim bit his lip. He wasn’t concerned at all. He knows you inside and out. In fact, he already knew where you were exactly. All of this info gathering was just his plan to delay things so that your patience would run out and he’d get front row seats to the carnage you’d inevitably cause. After all, there was something he can always predict when it came to you.

Your unending thirst for fun and chaos.

It took about a week for them to find you. Just about enough time for you to get antsy about not seeing your beloved pets and home.

And plenty of time for you to have your fun, pretending to be hurt, crying out in feigned agony, before you finally took down your prey.

“Red Hood! Come back! We can’t just barge in—“ Dick called out to Jason.

But all Jason could think of was the way you screamed in terror. The footage of your ‘torture’ was something he had nightmares about.

“Kitty! Are you—“ He kicked the door off its hinges, guns ready to fire.

But his sights only landed on a singular breathing being in the middle of a room. Covered in the blood of your victims. Grooming yourself clean.

Each lick sending shivers down his spine.

He sighed in relief. “You really have to stop playing with your food, Kitty.”

His lips envelopes yours as the world disappears from your vision.

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ddaz3d-and-cc0nfused · 8 months ago

Note

slight angst with happy ending for aaron hotchner

he misunderstands your body language or something (maybe you grew a bit distant, more time on phone etc) and he thinks you cheat cuz he’s travelling for work and he’s had this small insecurity for a while

but obviously you’re not (leave it to you what reader was doing and if she reveals) cheating and comfort ensues

(love me some jealous hotch)

fem!plus size reader, wc: 566.

a/n: i know i need to let the angst breathe, but being the angst lover that i am, i almost jumped at this LMAO.

cw! angst, and fears of cheating :(

Aaron wouldn’t blame you for cheating on him.

He was never home, he had a hard time answering your calls, and he barely texted you back; especially if he was away on a case.

He hated that he even thought like this, but many nights he’d often catch you on your phone, texting away like he wasn’t lying right next to you. Aaron hated being nosy, but he’d sometimes find himself leaning over – just a bit – and playing it off as kissing you on cheek and bidding you goodnight.

He’d understand if you were using the device to cool down or relax, but it was an everyday affair. When you were cooking? You’re texting with one hand. When you’re eating? As soon as the damn thing vibrates your eyes flicker over to where Aaron was sitting across from you quickly before looking back down and flipping the damn thing over.

Who the hell was holding your attention like this?

Aaron didn’t want to offend you by accusing you of cheating on him, because he loves you, but if he didn’t at least know he would go crazy.

“Honey?” He had called out to you one night, his voice soft.

“Hm?” You hummed, your eyes still attached to your screen that illuminated the soft contours of your face. God, you were breathtaking.

“I -” For the first time since the beginning of your relationship, Aaron had no idea how to talk to you. “I don’t mean to intrude but… what are you doing?”

Your eyebrows furrow and you look up. “What do you mean?”

“I mean that for the past week your phone has been glued to your hand.”

You look almost surprised at his confrontation, and that made his stomach drop. Is it really as bad as he thought it was? He felt the bile rise in the back of his throat.

“Oh.” You were almost conflicted. “I-”

“Is there someone else?” Aaron never interrupted you, but he had to know, he had to get the hard part out of the way.

Your jaw dropped and your brows dipped low in disbelief, “Wha - what? No!” You scrambled to shove your device in his hand. “There’s no one Aaron, look.” Your head gestured down to your phone and when he did, he felt like an idiot.

There at the top was labeled ‘Penny <3’

“You know… your birthday is coming up soon, and me and Penelope were just trying to plan something nice for you. I was kind of hoping you wouldn’t ask me about it because you know I can’t lie to you, and I didn’t want all of Penelope’s hard work to go to waste.”

Oh yeah, he was definitely really fucking embarrassed, but he was also overcome with the overwhelming feeling of shame.

How could he have assumed the worst out of you? All this time you were distant was because you loved him so much to the point where you couldn't keep anything from him.

“Oh, honey I’m sorry.” His voice was thick with remorse, and you only grabbed his large hand and kissed the back of it in response. You felt a cheeky smile tugging on your face.

“I’ll forgive you on one condition.”

“Whatever you want, it’s yours.” You shivered at the satisfying sound.

“You have to act surprised when you walk into the room okay?”

He chuckles but nods, “I promise.”

ೃ⁀➷ my lovely taglist!: @alina02 @louderfortheback @minervadashwood @their-love @fandomsarelifee @theendofthe70s @nomajdetective @mgg-theprettiestboy @phoenixblack89 @celtic-crossbow @hallecarey1 @bunnybabe-babydoll @dixonzzgirl @violettavirus

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crepezinhos · 1 month ago

Text

Last Minute Together

POV: How would some Anemo guys react if they found out you became a zombie / have been bitten by a zombie in an apocalypse?

⚠️ WARNINGS:

— This is a SFW piece, but it has some mentions about infections, blood, violence, organs and zombie nature, especially in the Xiao one. It is pretty graphic.

— Reader is FEMALE and uses SHE/HER pronouns

— Characters included: Wanderer and Xiao

— This happens in the Genshin universe, not Modern AU, so they all still have their abilities and vision.

— Angst with comfort

WANDERER: The apocalypse was simply something annoying to Wanderer, who is physically unable to be infected by the illness. Although his skin felt soft as human being’s, it was hard like his whole arm was a bone. No zombie bite and eat his skin, nor did the virus have place to reproduce inside his technical body. Because of that, Wanderer had almost all the responsibility for the protection of the village you two lived in, spending more than 12 hours a day every day working on it. He made 2 out of 3 patrol shifts, usually day and noon so he could spend the night with you, even if he didn’t need to sleep at all. The feeling of your embrace was too good and relaxing for him to deny just to spends more hours doing nothing but watching over monotonous deserts. He would also fight in the front line whenever conflict was happening since he was obviously very quick and good at killing zombies with his Anemo powers and saving people in dangerous situations with his flying abilities. He didn’t like those mundane jobs at all, although they did include protecting you too, but you insisted for him to do it, and even Buer, who claimed it could make him feel more humane and understand humanity more.

You were never a worry to him, tho. Wanderer was smart and would almost always predict conflict, so he’d keep you somewhere safe, like in a Pyramid’s old treasure spots that had many puzzles, traps and locks, before the danger even broke out.

Not until today.

The zombies outsmarted Wanderer’s predictions because of a ridiculous failure of the other human beings in the tribe you two were living in. One of the guards in the Pyramid Patrol left the gate open before running away to the West where conflict was going on to kill zombies. Wanderer only spotted the mistake while he was flying around, looking for any zombies that could potentially kill a human, and saw a hoard of zombies running into the Pyramid he put you in. He panicked for a while he flew back to you, but soon calmed down when he set you back to the ground, safe and untouched. He thought he had been lucky to have gotten you before the zombies could’ve eaten you alive, but you were already aware that maybe he didn’t get that lucky.

“Haven’t I told you to use that spear in case the zombies invaded?!” He scolded you while he walked you back to the village. That angry behavior was typical when Wanderer was worried, no matter if it was his fault or not.

“I’m sorry, my love, I really tried to but I just don’t have the power to—” You tried explaining yourself, but a sudden need to cough itched in the back of your throat, in which you complied to very quickly, putting a palm on top of your mouth to not disturb him with the sounds of it more than he already was disturbed.

You unexpectedly coughed 9 times in total with some breaks between them, which obviously made him raise an eyebrow.

“Are you okay?” He asked, stopping his walk to pay better attention in you. Since he was in front of you, you stopped walking too and leaned your chest down, allowing your coughs to come out easier from your mouth.

After making sure nothing was bothering your throat anymore, you got up again and wiped your mouth with the same palm you used to cover your coughs.

“Yeah, probably just allergies!” You smiled, trying to pretending you were sure baout it. After everything you’ve learned about the man, you would hate to be simply an addition to his traumas.

But, unlike what you expected, Wanderer looked at you back like he had just seen a ghost.

“Babe?” You asked, not understanding his horror, so you decided to check on the hand you used to cover your mouth, already thinking about the chance of you being infected.

And you hate when your pessimism is right.

“Human beings usually go through 4 noticeable stages before becoming a zombie according to how much they try to resist it or how much they’ve been bitten…

… The third one is usually noticeable by a sudden fatigue or an infection in the stomach that causes the victim to cough blood or other residues that remind vomit.”

Oh, that stupid scientific presentation you decided to watch with Wanderer! You were enjoying that moment of your boyfriend’s cute worried behavior so peacefully and now it was completely ruined...

“Y/N… were you bitten..?” He stepped a few times closer to you,like he was ready to confront you in case you lied right into his eyes.

“I… n-no—” You still tried to do it, which made Wanderer instantly launch his left arm into yours, pulling it so hard it could easily break your bones. “Ow!” You complained while Wanderer twisted it around.

He gasped.

You’d never heard that kind of noise coming from him and his usual stoic and nonchalant personality, so you immediately knew it was bad... really bad.

Wanderer breathed in and out, and then again, and again, and again... his eyebrows also frowning the more he breathed.

He was beginning to panic.

Your eyes decided to follow his, giving up on the possibility that you weren’t bitten, meeting a bite that had already turned some of your veins and skin into a dark, mossy green tone.

Oh, wow… you were really going to die in matter of minutes, weren’t you? What were you thinking when you decided to not tell him? You wouldn’t be able to cure it anyway, so why are you regretting it?

Your brain was still deciding whether it would act instinctually, trying to survive or make every second of your last moments useful, or philosophically, accepting your death like any other. You kept quiet, disappointed at yourself and unsure of what to tell him after betraying him so cruelly like that.

“No... No, no, no, no, no, no…” Wanderer started to let that growing panic out of his mouth, his heart finally beginning to burn with the realization of the the fact that you were really about to die and become a mockery of reincarnation, a zombie. “NO! NO!” He suddenly bursted, launching his both hands into you, making you flinch and close your eyes shut in fear of aggression.

In a blink, your arms were thankfully freed from his grip, but you weren’t feeling your feet in the ground anymore.

You opened your eyes insecurely, only to find yourself being held princess-style by Wanderer’s arms and flying forward in a tremendous speed.

“No, no, no, no… You’re not gonna die, YOU’RE NOT GONNA DIE! I’M GONNA SAVE YOU IN TIME AND EVERYTHING WILL FINE!” He screamed to himself, not even daring to look at you with teary eyes.

Flying with Wanderer used to be magic before the apocalypse. You two would do it for pure fun, enjoying the chilly wind or the beautiful views of Sumeru’s nature… but now it seemed a horrible, traumatic experience.

It truly hurt to know that Wanderer still had hopes even if he knew nothing would be able to cure you from the virus. He has actually already mocked other people’s miseries in private conversations with you, saying those tears and hopes for a cure were useless since they were far from being done with it. Seems like karma really is real, isn’t it? But you hated to have to be the victim of that karma… to have to leave him behind in such an ugly, unfair way, knowing everything about the miseries of his past life and how he had a lot of problems with coping.

Poor baby… he really wasn’t ready to lose you like this… not did he think he’s lose you like this.

Would you just be another ‘betrayal’ to him? You hated that possibility. You truly had no intentions of leaving him behind.

Would he get so angry at your death that he’d hurt other people, including you, or his own self? You also hated that possibility. All you wanted, instead of spending time with him, was to see everyone safe and well.

“I love you, Kuni.” You tried comforting him, using that sweet, blessed name the Traveler gave him after his redemption, causing his face to flinch away from yours in pure grief.

“SHUT UP! DO NOT TALK TO ME LIKE THAT! YOU ARE NOT GOING TO DIE!” His voice broke multiple times, showing to you how his tears were already running through cheeks indeed and all that despair he was trying to hide.

Oh, how his heart was burning him alive… And he thought losing the Gonsis was the most painful thing he could feel… barely did he know.

But no how could you be so cruel to him? He already knew you weren’t immortal anyway, but he was ready to watch you grow old and die of something like a heart failure, not from a virus that made you some dangerous creature in a brutal way, especially when you were so young.

“Oh, Kuni… I was over the moment I was bit.” The man shook his head aggressively as he heard you say those negative words. “I didn’t want to leave you behind like this at all. It hurts me just as much as it hurts you.” Your mouth was beginning to water in hunger of flesh while Wanderer just let his tears fall more and more. “No need to cry this much, my love… remember the scientists said they’re working in a cure? Maybe I can come back to you!” You tried cheering him up, using a hand to wipe one of his tears away, feeling your own heartbeat become slower. “Look at me, Kuni.” He immediately turned his head to you, admiring your pitiful gaze and the touch of your hands for the last time. “Remember, you will always have something or someone to love and live for! So many people are willing to fall in love with you…” He closed his eyes, feeling every single syllable of your words like a brutal stab in his heart.

“Please stop..!” He begged while taking his gaze away from yours and tightening the grip of his hands in your body, although it wouldn’t stop you.

“Don’t do anything stupid for me, okay..? I want you to cope about this without putting anyone’s lives in danger.” You hugged him by the neck. “Thank you for everything, Kuni, and once again… I’m sorry.” You mumbled as you felt your body weaken to a point you could barely keep yourself hard in your place.

You were happy that at least you were going to die in the hands of your lover, flying in the warm skies of the deserts of Sumeru while remembering the sweet memories of you two doing it in the past.

“No, please..! You promised me you’d stay with me until you grew old! You promised to be by my side every morning! You promised me you wouldn’t betray me! Please, hold on just a little bit more! I can’t afford to have you dying like this in front of me!” He found courage to look at you in the eye again, only to find your face fallen down with eyes closed and a little grin in your lips. “Y/N..?” His voice was as low as a whisper.

But you didn’t respond.

“… Stage 4 is the death of the victim and the process of reincarnation of the body thanks to the virus, noticeable by sudden twitches of the victim’s chest and limbs.”

Time seemed to have stopped for Wanderer miring that scene of you, no matter if he had managed to successfully land on the ground in his knees still with you in his arms.

“Y/N..?! Y/N?! Y/N, ANSWER ME!!” He screamed at the top of his lungs to your corpse, causing everyone around to curve their heads in his direction.

“Hat Guy..?” The archon’s voice suddenly echoed by his side, but he couldn’t care any less about her.

“No, no, no, no, no, no…” He hugged your body like he was about to break every bone of it, feeling that warmth of your skin fly away from it so easily while the archon stepped closer to the scene, soon realizing what had happened due to all the blood around your mouth and all the greenish tones in the veins of your body.

Wanderer started weeping in your shoulders, trying to hide it from everyone else although it was pretty obvious he was crying. Everything was so quiet around him he could even hear whispers.

Everyone around was whispering instead of doing something truly useful.

Nahida hugged his neck from behind, ignoring the fact that that was a really dangerous move. If she doesn’t say something perfect to him at this brutal moment and state, she knows he’ll explode.

“I am deeply sorry for your loss, Hat Guy.” She whispered in his ear.

“No, no, no… I can’t lose her too..!” He shook his head to the sides, still not daring to take his forehead out of your wet shoulder like that would somehow keep your soul in your body.

The Archon deeply admired you too, so she was feeling the blues of your death with Wanderer. She thought you were a brave soul for accepting being the lover and companion of someone so difficult like Hat Guy, and a very kind person overall, so she knew that losing you would break his heart. Nahida decoded to simply embrace the man’s emotions in that hug, wanting to avoid any anger trigger. It was working as expected since his cries were only getting louder and uglier.

He cried and cried, no matter if hours had passed, or if Nahida left him there, or if you had already woke up and become a green savage who was trying your best to bite his porcelain skin apart. He simply hugged you in place and cried while you didn’t do any effort to embrace him back or stop trying to eat him and everyone around you. He hated how you were somewhere he couldn’t reach, because he would’ve brought you back in an instant. That’s why he kept hugging you. He just wanted to feel every bit of you before it all drifted away. He just wanted to die there by your side in hope that would you two would somehow reconnect.

The sunset was so beautiful despite the ugly scene he was creating. He knew you��d be commenting about it right now if you were alive and he imagined it, trying his best to make himself feel better, but honestly, creating and remembering memories was really just making him sadder.

“Why..? Why..?!” He whimpered under your neck, no matter if you were pulling his hair, attempting to bite his neck.

“Hat Guy.” The Archon appeared behind him once again, this he could hear more steps of other people that seemed to be wearing armor. Guards. “I really do understand you’re going through a tough moment, but we cannot keep Y/N unrestrained in the village.” Nahida begun her negotiation.

“No… please don’t take her away from me… anything but her..!” He answered, still burying himself in your cold body, even harder now that there was a threat.

“We do not intend to take her away from you or terminate her life. We intend to keep her in a safe room inside the laboratory where she’ll be well-treated and prioritized in case a cure to the virus is real.” She continued trying to convince him peacefully, but deep down she knew those guards weren’t ‘just in case’. Wanderer would act aggressive if someone annoyed him in that state.

At least she managed to make him raise his face up to her again. Nahida was a little taken aback with the amount of red he had in his eyes because of all the gallons of tears he shed during those hours and just how sore they were.

“A cure..? There is a cure..?!” He looked at her with desperate, pitiful eyes which made Nahida feel bad about being forced to destroy that hope.

“No, although we’re working in one, we can’t guarantee that—”

“Wait.” His whole chest suddenly turned to her and the guards behind her, still holding you still, but his tone sounded completely serious and rough. “Are you… from the Pyramid Patrol..?” Wanderer stared deep down at one of the guard’s eyes like he was seeking for blood. His bipolarity was still something impressive to many people.

At the same time… Nahida knew he’d let you go if he found someone to point, blame and kill. The guard wasn’t even from the Pyramid Patrol, or any patrol, he was an elder who worked for her as an assistant. She didn’t want to possibly harm real soldiers, although she did punish the ones that were guilty for your death with obligatory extra hours at night shift.

“Yes.” The man answered very anxiously about his role in that situation. Thankfully his helmet covered most of his face, so Wanderer couldn’t identify his cowardness.

But that stop him from scoffing once, then twice, then from laughing like a maniac.

Laughing in anger and sadness, laughing like he was trying to fight against his own thirst for blood, laughing at human stupidity.

“I work… 16 hours per day every day… saving and recruiting everyone’s ass from their own useless, powerless bodies… just because I can’t get infected or reproduce. If I wanted to do nothing or throw zombies at this village, I could, but I decided to not to because that would’ve made her disappointed. I sacrificed all of my time to have some quality time with her just because she wanted me to help everyone who needed help… and I did my job perfectly.” He shook your body sometimes, trying to show him what he had done. “DO YOU FUCKING HEAR ME?! SHE ACCEPTED THE FACT I WOULDN’T HAVE TIME FOR HER AT ALL JUST BECAUSE SHE WANTED EVERYONE TO BE SAFE AND HEALTHY IN THIS SHIT OF A VILLAGE! ALL YOU THREE HAD TO DO WAS TO TAKE CARE OF SOME STUPID PYRAMIDS FOR SOME HOURS ANS YOU COLDN’T EVEN DO THAT! AFTER ALL I’VE DONE FOR THIS HELLHOLE, YOU COULDN’T KEEO THE ONLY THING I ASKED FOR!” He vented, already sounding violent enough as Nahida expected, inches away from leaving your body behind.

“We’re… very sorry for—” The man tried fitting into his character nicely, but that was the worst decision he could’ve made.

“I’M GONNA SHOW YOU JUST HOW SORRY YOU SHOULD BE, YOU SON OF A—!”

Blink!

It all happened in less than a second, but Wanderer indeed let go of your body just to fuel his fists with Anemo energy and try jumping on the man to try hurting him with his charged punch. Since Nahida predicted he’d do that, she immediately turned on the Dendro shields she had been creating this whole time while he vented, taking advantage of the fact that he was too unstable to pay attention to her fingers doing the magic and used her manipulation powers to make him pass out. He’d probably hurt her too if he saw her attempting to separate you from him or defending the man so she had to act in silence.

Wanderer fell in ground immediately and you obviously tried to take the opportunity to flee and eat people. Fortunately, you’d never be able to break the shield she made around you, so you were banging and scratching the shiny, transparent green wall while drooling with the view of some scares kids who were watching the scene.

After some days, Wanderer woke up feeling very dizzy and lost. Nahida knew he’d need some good rest with some good dreams for him to not wake up and immediately go for the kill he had almost committed, so she made sure her finality on him was more brutal than usual and that he wasn’t having any nightmares meanwhile. That’s also why she also arranged most people in the town to bring him gifts and cards to possibly cheer him up and apologize for nothing.

“I don’t care about this, Buer. Stop trying to waste your time trying to make me smile or something stupid like that.” He scoffed at her while ripping a card in half of one the guards that failed to protect you.

“That’s not what she would want tho, would it?” Wanderer’s eyes avoided her gaze, knowing she was right and that his tough and unreasonable behavior wouldn’t scare her off.

“You know nothing about her.” Since the topic still triggered him a lot, he tried to put Nahida back to her place.

“You tried doing something stupid, and she told you to not do it, am I wrong?” She smiled at him, pretending she wasn’t acting like a tough therapist.

Wanderer went quiet for some seconds. He hated to be wrong, he hated when Nahida peeked his mind, he hated the gods… but he hated your death more than anything.

“You peeked through my mind again..?” Wanderer asked in embarrassment of his own failure to keep a promise to you and honoring you.

“Yes, I did. I want to help you cope with Y/N’s death just like she wants you to too. That’s why I think you should accept all these letters and gifts. This is just a small percentage of how much everyone in the city feels bad for you or that they owe you something! You have no idea how much they’re trying to redeem their mistakes so it doesn’t happen again with you or anyone else, Hat Guy. Y/N is in the laboratory as I promised, but I wouldn’t recommend you to go and see her… You don’t want to see her in such horrible state, do you? Anyway, the scientists are trying their best to work on a vaccine and a cure for the ones that are already infected, prioritizing you as their number 1 patient. The guards are already patrolling extra 4 hours in their shifts every single day, you are allowed to never work again for the village, it’s too many things for me to list…” She watched his face slowly turn calm and relaxed, although he was still grumpy.

“That’s… the bare minimum.” He crossed his arms and closed his eyes, trying his best to deny his defeat against Nahida’s logic.

“Although you are hurt and want Y/N to come back, I don’t want your hopes for a cure to hurt you even more in case it can’t be done. There is a considerable chance that this really isn’t possible, but we’re really trying to make sure it is possible, okay?” She gently floated until she was kneeing by his side in the comfy sheets of the bed.

“… Sure.” He felt his heart ache thinking about the possibility of never having the chance to see you again, his mouth beginning to tremble a little in need to cry just some more tears.

The thought of going to Irminsul again and changing the past again just to make sure you’d survive all of that unnecessary drama went even through his mind, but he knew Nahida would give him serious consequences for it, including fixing the present.

“But please… make sure those scientists are working on it..! I’ll do anything for the chance of her coming back! I’ll work, I’ll pay, I’ll study everything I need to understand the process of—!” He finally stared back at the Archon with many tears in his glossy eyes.

But Nahida simply hugged him by the neck and stopped his begging.

And Wanderer— no… Kuni broke down again.

XIAO: Although Xiao technically has a human body and can get infected, it would be pretty much impossible for that to happen. He’s just that good at fighting, especially when he’s using his powers. He has to be careful tho. Zombies are a curse, and whenever you take the life of something cursed its soul their souls curse him back in form of karmic debt. Xiao has enough of that curse annoying his routine and ruining his physique, so he usually leaves the kill itself for the humans that work with him in the front line. But you… he’d always leave you in the Jade Chamber with Ningguang and the other Adepti when there was an emergency, taking advantage of the privilege he had of being an Adeptus too, but you still insisted in spending most of your time in the few parts of the city that were restored by humanity and not surrounded by zombies. That remaining humanity is definitely therapeutic to you, so he couldn’t blame you for being so annoying about it… or being there in the wrong time.

Xiao was patrolling on his own in the top of a mountain when the problem happened. He liked to be solitary and he used those patrolling hours to be his own self too. Xianyun had to fly all the way from South to North to tell him to tell what happened and that they needed his help. Some kids decided to play with danger and go out of the bounds they had set in those safe spots in the Liyue Port, and when they met themselves with the obvious danger, they ran back to the city, but they couldn’t hold the enormous hoard of the zombies that followed them. They had lost a chunk of the town and many survivors already, but Xiao, after hearing about the invasion of zombies in the city, was only focusing on his own memories of that same morning.

“I’m gonna go to the town to get some groceries for us, okay? Good luck on your patrol today!”

You were there, weren’t you?

Xiao teleported in a blink, leaving Xianyun behind mid-talk in a very rude manner.

He was running in the streets like he was running for his life. The zombies that saw him there started running towards his direction, but quick slashes of his blade were enough to shut them all down. He even recognized some of the faces of the merchants and kids he’d seen in the few times when he took a break from work, which was disturbing, but not more than the thought of your own face distorted like that.

He quickly opened the door of the market you were probably referring to and locked it shut so no zombie would get in, no matter how loud and annoying their bangs on the door were.

“Y/N?!” Xiao screamed. “Y/N?!?!” He screamed again, a little more nervous.

“Xiao..?” He heard a spark of your muffled voice.

His hearing was precise, so he immediately figured out where it came from, behind a door with a big sign with the word ‘Deposit’ on it. He rushed to open it, only to find out that the handle was locked in its place.

“Break it.” Your voice sounded more clear now that he was closer to you, but your tone was still very weak and low.

Were you still trying to be silent so no zombie would hear you? What an absurd, he was right there to protect you… he thought.

He nodded, although you couldn’t see him doing it, and slashed the door in half with his spear, jumping through the lower part of it as soon as he could. The first things his eyes saw was a dead zombie sitting in the left corner of the room, which made him relieved.

“Thank god you are okay..! Nice job killing the zom—” He genuinely smiled at you for your achievement as a mere weak female, but looking at you completely replaced his pride with horror.

You were sat down with your legs spread apart, your mouth covered in blood and an enormous bite in your chest.

He felt like his heart has skipped multiple beats.

“W-Wh… you…” Xiao tried to say something, but he didn’t want to describe what he saw at all.

“I’m sorry, Xiao… I couldn’t do it.” You sounded sad and disappointed at yourself. “At least I got to see you before I died here..!” You shed a tear, which made Xiao immediately rush to you.

“No… no, no, no, no…” Xiao repeated while trying to take a closer look at your bite, hoping it maybe hadn’t spread around you yet.

He was too late, way too late.

He began to hyperventilate in pure stress.

“Come here…” You reached a hand out to his face, gently trying to pull it closer to you.

He immediately accepted it and helped you do it. No matter how much blood you had around your mouth or how bad you smelled, it was still you and your consciousness behind that corpse, one that was about to die right in front of his eyes.

He didn’t want to accept that he failed you so horribly like that. He didn’t want to accept that your soul was already drifting away from you and that you were really going to die right there and now. He was more angry at himself than anything. He thought he was so powerful but he couldn’t even keep a stupid, microscopic virus from killing you.

“Please… take care of the people , okay..?” You wiped a tear was running down his cheek, finally reaching your other hand into his other cheek. “For me.” Xiao got the message immediately and smacked his mouth against yours, no matter how much you tasted like flesh and rotten blood.

He wouldn’t kiss you so frequently, only doing so in moments he considered intimate or special, but this was far from being intimate or special… it was dread and painful. He would’ve kissed you for the rest of eternity, but your oxygen storage had been too reduced, so after some minimum seconds, you broke it off, launching your head backwards to breathe while Xiao tried his best to keep his senses in place when he realized your eyes were having to make effort to keep themselves open.

“Hey… at least I managed to kill a zombie! I’m not as weak you thought I was..!” You joked, trying to cheer him up a little bit, giggling somehow.

You weren’t the kind of person to keep their body fit, so you’d usually struggle with things that required strength, even with opening bottles, which was why Xiao would jokingly call you weak. Although he did believe humans were really weak, he never meant to genuinely insult you with those puns.

“You were never weak… never.” He shed many tears seeing you stare and smile at him no matter how much energy that cost you. “You did so well…” He whimpered, his voice beginning to break.

“I love you Xiao.” You initiated, pausing for a moment to swallow some blood that you felt like coughing. “I’ll be watching you from above… okay..? Now go, please… Lock me up here so I won’t hurt anyone, okay..? I’m sorry for having to leave you behind so pathetically and easily like this. If I could stay alive for you, I would anything for it right now.” You said your final words, your hands finally becoming too weak to hold his face anymore, falling in your chest peacefully.

“I would too… I love you too…” He shoved his face in your shoulder begun to whimper.

And you finally stopped moving.

Xiao’s tears were all falling over your body mercilessly although he swore he was trying to hold them back.

He couldn’t. He just couldn’t.

You were the fifth person he’d lost because of this sort of illness that kills and turns into something horrible for others and the first one he saw the moment of death of. They were all different by literal meaning, but all the tears shed for the grief were the same.

But this time, he lost the only person who had ever given him a chance to love more than in a friendly way. The only person who had been intimate him, emotionally or sexually. That’s why he almost turned your bones into dust while hugging you with all his force, feeling your soul fade away to a place he couldn’t reach. He hates that feeling, he hates it badly. He hates it so much he would allow himself to become a person you’d never seen for the moment.

A side of himself he personally hasn’t seen in centuries.

He slashed the doors of the market away from him, breaking them into tens of pieces, opening passage quickly like he was some sort of king. The zombies immediately jumped on his direction, but with another slash he cut all of them in half, blood and pieces of organs flying everywhere.

Xiao was red. His eyes desired red and they were red from being sore. His body was already half covered in that dark red tone that pleasured him, but the disgusting pieces of green skin ruined some of his fun. He didn’t care if some of those zombies weren’t supposed to be killed, he wanted to see blood come out of them all, just for the sake of revenge for the tragedy of your desth.

It’s just a fair trade isn’t it?

One by one, he slashed each zombie until they fell still in the ground, no matter if he cut their heads off or not. He was screaming and growling in anger, exhaustion, agony, grief, and pain. He needed to let those emotions out of him, as tears or screams. In a matter of a few minutes, the ground he stepped on had become a pool of blood on it with some parts of zombies here and there, his boots making squishy noises of flesh, broken bones or blood coming out whenever he stepped. It’s like he wanted to make sure the stones of the streets got forever stained with that color, marking his anger attack on that day and the consequences of your death. He would’ve found it a beautiful scene if there was a statue of you right in the middle of all that pool.

He was only done when he had successfully eradicated all the zombies the area, restoring the area all by himself like what he had done was a common daily chore. He ended where he started, in front of the market. Some humans even watched him do his work, but most couldn’t handle the amount of blood and organs that were shed. Now that is was done, they were all coming in to close the gates of the area again and dispose of the cadavers, praising Xiao for his work every time they passed through him, who was simply standing and staring at nothing. He knew he had just made an enormous task for the city, at the cost of some chunk of his soul, but he didn’t care about it. He did all that because of you, because he wanted you, or at least to keep your promise done.

“Euuurgghhh…” Something growled behind him, which Xiao immediately figured it was a zombie that somehow hadn’t died yet.

“M-Mr. Adeptus, behind you!” Some human called him out, reaching out a hand to call his attention better.

The human’s annoying voice triggered Xiao into immediately piercing the zombie from behind, without even looking at it, too focused on the pleasure he got from miring his own massacre.

But he was curious. How did that zombie manage to survive him? He decided to turn his face around to see what mistake he had committed.

Oh, if the only mistake was the way he had slashed the zombie…

It was you.

Xiao gasped in silence, too afraid to move another inch of that spear that was crossing your heart all the way to your back. Some humans looked at the scene confused, some looked shocked and worried, recognizing you and exactly what you were to Xiao.

Oh… why did he have to pierce your heart so perfectly? Why was he so intrigued in the bloodbath and triggered some random human’s words rather than being the precise Adeptus he was? The only thing you asked him to do was to leave you locked in that room… and he successfully broke it in minutes for something that wasn’t even worth it.

You were screaming in pain and agony savagely as expected of a zombie and Xiao just stood paralyzed, feeling new tears form in his eyes and his hands trembling. If you were really watching him from the sky, you would be witnessing that hypocritical view of his own hands taking your life away and he felt like he wanted to vomit because of it.

The more energy you wasted trying to get out of his hook and eating him, the quicker it took you to lose consciousness and life once again. The only second chance of life that Tevyat gave you in form of a zombie.

“Y/N..?” He whimpered your name.

If he thought he had already shed enough tears when you died in his arms as a human being, now that he was the murderer of your possible second chance, who was going to be cursed by the person he loved the most, cried until he lost his voice for days.

“Do you wish me to set the lantern in the water for you, Mr. Adeptus?” The woman asked to Xiao, going in front of him just to offer her hands to hold the lantern in his hands.

“No, thank you. Just hold me in my chair.” He replied, leaning down close to the floor although he could easily fall from his wheelchair.

The woman quickly reached Xiao’s waist and held him from falling, very worried about his lack of preoccupation for his health. Xiao hated what had become of him over the years, so he always tried to act independent of medicines or his wheelchair. He used to be the one to take care of everyone’s burdens and now he was a burden to everyone.

How did he get so worse to a point he couldn’t even walk anymore? You. After watching you die twice, the grief and regret possessed him with the help of his karmic debt. All those curses he held in chest every day were finally out of their cage and they only went back to it when he couldn’t even make use of it anymore. It was ugly, really ugly. He hunted down zombies every single hour and day of his life to somehow compensate what he had done to you like you were really watching him from afar although it didn’t make him feel any better deep down in his heart. It quickly consumed most of his soul, including his legs, so now he’s finally just a citizen trying to live in peace with himself.

He also started therapy. Morax and all of his Adepti companions kept insisting him to do it, so he decided to give up resisting it. It doesn’t fully help him, but it does make him feel more peaceful about your death. That’s also how he found out about setting lanterns in the Lantern Rite to honor your spirit. It was a better and healthier way to cope and honor you, so every year he counted the days until he could do it again.

The lantern finally managed to touch the water after doing a lot of effort to do it, watching it gently sway away from him, going back and forth multiple times, just like he watched your life sway away too.

He jumped back to his chair, still watching it in pure silence and in his own little world.

“Can I ask who was she again, Mr. Adeptus?” The caretaker asked.

She was kind, as expected from one and very curious about the almighty man she took care of. Since the tradition of setting a lamp in the sky or sea was about honoring something or someone, she knew it was probably someone important to him that had died in battle.

“You wanna hear me talk about her again for the third time?” He asked, a little grin showing up on his face.

He couldn’t tell if therapy was the one who helped him become more gentle and sweet with other people, or if it was just what his memories of you did to his tough shell.

Don’t forget to like and comment if you liked it <3

Taglist: @amoyanderes @alatusorrow @kindofshyent @kindofscenic @the-stinky-winky @luminieee

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crazilust · 4 months ago

Text

My thoughts on these placements

based on my last lover. PSA: this might be biased. don’t take it TOO seriously, it’s mostly for me to purge this relationship. LETS GOOOOOOO !!

1. Gemini rising

Have you ever felt hella special to someone and then you see them interact with someone else and you’re like “oh. i’m… i’m just another one of their friends.” this is what it feels to be around a gemini rising sometimes. most of the ones I know, are either extremely popular, know alot of people or at the very least just hang out regularly with a bunch of people (might just be colleagues and not necessarily friends but they’re often surrounded). And they have this way of making you feel special, and funny and entertaining but most of the times, they’re the ones controlling the discussion and the flow of it.

when it came to my ex, he knew so many people and every person he was interacting with, he knew a little detail about them, and it made the person care so much about him. Even though he didn’t as much. Somewhat flimsy, it’s hard to know a Gemini rising’ true intentions with you.

2. Sagittarius sun

Sags don’t have the best reputation in my book, and he certainly didn’t help the stereotypes. The thing with Sags sun that I find hard to understand is the constant lie they have between who they truly are and who they want to be. It’s a constant battle of “don’t look too hard into my flaws bc soon enough I’ll be this grandiose super star and therefore you can forget about the awkward nerd you have in front of you.” Most of them are nerds, truly. But they hate it. As opposed to Aquarius sun’s desire to be different and their ability to stand on their two feet even tho they’re being outcast, a Sag sun’s deepest fear is to be seen as the weirdo they are. (that unfortunately they associated with being a loser)

If you’ve never been close with a Sag, you’ll be the first to deny this claim. “What?? The Sag I met was THE life of the party! No weirdo here.” or “The Sag I met was a boss ass btch, she had everything under control and very educated!!”

And that, my friends, is what we call a front. Sure, they can be the life of the party, usually very keen on getting their diplomas, but if you don’t know them, that’s the only part of them you’ll get to see cause it’s the part they deem acceptable.

I’m not even gonna comment on the commitment issues, cause yall… you know it already lmao.

3. Virgo moon

Nobody hates an underdeveloped virgo moon more than they hate themselves. So critical, judgemental and harsh. They notice absolutely everything that you do and instead of going to you and confront you about the issue, they’ll keep it in, and throw it back to your face the minute it’s convenient for them (when they effed up). Very hard to love because they simply can’t accept that you love and accept their own flaws. I remember my ex asking me litteraly all the time “How can you love me if I’m not as pretty as before” (it was in his head, he was just as cute) “How can you love me if I don’t have a job?” (He had lost his job for only 2 months at that point) No matter what I’d say, he couldn’t believe that I loved him wholeheartedly, no matter what.

Sometimes, when I look at a virgo moon, unevolved ofc, all I can see is pain. Virgo is an already hard sign to have imo (sorry!) but in the moon placement, it’s just sad. These natives are so harsh on themselves and accept no help whatsoever. And if you do try, they’ll do everything to push you away and trust me, one thing Virgos do is succeed.

4. Libra Mars

As a scorpio mars, libra mars is not my favorite placement. But as I checked my vedic chart and I do, in fact, have a libra mars, I hate that I understand why they act the way they do.

They care so much about everything being perfect, everyone getting along and most importantly being at peace with the ones they love. The cliches are true for a reason, they dislike conflict and yes, are passive agressive but it’s because they don’t want to lose the people they love with petty drama.

So they don’t say anything, and they accomodate even tho that one thing irritated them and then when you confront them about something, they bring you everything you’ve done wrong for the past six months. That’s the part I hate, ofc, but I also hate that I get it.

I get it. They’re the biggest people pleasers and when they don’t say anything about something that upsets them, they actually think they’re doing it for the greater good. They obviously analyse everything you’re doing wrong, but they don’t mind not saying it cause they’d rather be at peace with you. So how dare you don’t do the same for them?

That’s the mentality. Unfortunately for them, it brings bigger conflict because then you feel betrayed they never said anything to begin with. UGH.

SPEAK YOUR MIND, Libras of any placements actually <3

5. Sagittarius Mercury

If you consider yourself soft, delicate, sensitive, do not date a Sag mercury. These people are ruthless. As friends, I find them hilarious and fun to be around, but as lovers I would never do that to myself again. Just never <3. They are very blunt (which doesn’t mean they won’t lie! We’re talking about a Jupiter ruled sign here yall), but in a way that won’t make you feel good about yourself. They’ll often use humour to attack you and then use it as a shield the moment you call them out on it (i.e : It was just a jokeeeeee!)

Gives very good advice, I’ll give them that. I think sometimes I can have a little bit of tunnel vision and with Sag mercuries, they’re able to tap you on the shoulder and be like “Have you consider this tho?” in the most casual way and you’re like “oh.. no. yes. you’re right”

6. Aquarius Venus

If you love the friends to lovers trope, you’ll just love dating an Aquarius venus because that friendship-like relationship will be the foundation of your dynamic. Everything feels fun, the complicity is at an all time high.

But the commitment.

Now, I’ve read multiple times here that Aquarius venus is actually very committed to the person they love when they like you. Well, I guess I wasn’t his person cause I only felt the commitment phobia.

Anyways, I still loved the dynamic of the relationship, but I can’t lie, it didn’t feel serious at all.

•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~••~•~•~•~•~•

Well that’s all for me, today. Love yall!!

Remember, these are the big 6 of my ex so it is biased nothing to take too personal but if it applies and resonates, great💛

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damiansgoodgirll · 2 months ago

Note

I just read “think I need someone older” and omg it was so so angsty and so so good! I was hoping to request sort of the reverse where Damian has a crush on reader (same age gap and everything) and he’s worried that she doesn’t feel the same and all of his conflicting emotions in having feelings for someone much younger than him. Angst would be great too but the ending is totally up to you! 🖤

omg love this idea! a little similar to the other one!

damian priest x reader

likes, comments and reblogs are always appreciated!!

‼️a little angsty, some feels, sexual tension, age gap between damian and reader

beautiful angel

damian felt like something was wrong with him but he couldn’t help it. he couldn’t stop looking at you everytime you were at the gym together and you were training with him or rhea. he couldn’t help but love your company, even if it was just for the amount of time he would drop you back home. he just loved being in your presence and he couldn’t understand why.

he felt weird for even looking in your direction sometimes. he was way older than you and in his eyes you were just a young spirit full of life.

you, being in your early twenties, wanted to live your life at fullest. you were building your own career in wrestling, you were trying to do as many fun new things and adventures as you could. and damian felt like if he tried anything with you, he would stop you from doing that.

he was attracted by you. not only by your looks, even if he thought that you were the most beautiful person he ever met, he was attracted by your personality, your kind and genuine self, your funny side, he was attracted by you.

he was happily looking at you as you were training with rhea. he didn’t know what you told her but he didn’t missed the laughs escaping her lips.

“you coming too damian?” rhea woke him from his dream.

“sorry?” he apologised, feeling like the missed all of the conversation you were having before.

“y/n asked us if we want to join her tonight, she’s going to this new club downtown” rhea explained “i’m definitely going”

“oh” he thought about it for a moment. he was a party boy. he never missed going to clubs and having fun but you two never actually went together so he didn’t know how he should behave “yes…count me in” he faked a smile that turned genuine when he saw you happily jumping in the ring.

once you all finished your training, damian offered to drop you off at home, as usual. he was so whipped that he even let you play your pop playlist in his car. he never done that for anyone except you.

“you and rhea went hard today” he laughed watching how tired you were.

“yeah…i think i’ll sleep for a bit and then i’ll get ready for tonight” you replied back.

“what time do you want me to pick you up?” he was natural. he could be your private driver and he wouldn’t care as long as he could spend time with you.

“oh…rhea said around midnight…” you thought about it for a moment. truth was that you didn’t tell them the complete truth. you weren’t going to the club just to have fun as you told the duo, you were going there because a boy asked you out but you were too scared of going alone so you tried to convince them to be your back up in case something happened.

you didn’t really want to meet anyone as you were happily enjoying your youth but when he appeared to ask you out, noticing how good looking he was, you gave yourself a chance.

“midnight…okay, i’ll text you once i’ll be down there” he smiled.

you couldn’t notice how kind he always was towards you. he never minded taking you home, going grocery shopping with you when you asked him, going to the theatre with you even when it was about stupid comedies that he hated. he always offered to train with you. he liked to push you to your limits but he never went to far, always checking in with you.

you couldn’t stop but thinking that all he did was just with you. you knew how close he was with rhea but never once in his lifetime he let her play her music in his car, not even when they both liked the same type of music. he did things for you that he wouldn’t do for anyone else and that feeling made you think.

“here we go angel” the little nickname he used for you made you blush. it wasn’t anything knew for you but yet, the way his voice sounded made you always feel butterflies that you couldn’t understand.

“thank you…see you tonight” you happily said, leaving a soft kiss on his cheek as usual before leaving his car and going strong into your apartment.

damian stood there for a moment. you always kissed him goodbye and to this day, he still wasn’t used to it.

with the biggest smile on his face, he drove back home.

once inside, he took time to wash himself and trying to distract himself from the thought of you. walking half naked in his home, he tried to think about anything else but he couldn’t. everything remained him of you. he went on instagram, seeing if any of his friends posted something new but somehow he always managed to find your profile and look at your pictures.

in his eyes, you were the most beautiful person he ever laid his eyes on but he couldn’t stop wonder what his family and friends would say if they knew he had a crush on you.

the age difference between the two of you was symbolic. hell, he could have been your big brother or father - almost - and he was worried that in your eyes, he was just an old man.

“fuck…” he cursed while scrolling down your instagram. there were pictures of you in your ring gear, in your bikinis, in your pjs. there were selfie with your friends and family. there were a few pictures with him and rhea too and he smiled seeing the sweet captions you wrote under those pictures.

you had him wrapped around your finger and you didn’t even know about it.

he was sure you were sleeping now and he tried to rest a couple of hours before getting ready for tonight, but his mind wouldn’t stop thinking of you. he wanted to text you but he knew he just couldn’t so instead he scrolled through all of your old messages, smiling from time to time when you texted him personal things or just stupid things you read online.

but right when he was thinking of you, he received the notification and that person was you.

rhea asked me if you can pick her up too tonight, she doesn’t feel like driving all the way downtown. she can be annoying sometimes :/

he genuinely smiled. just the simplest text could bring a smile on his face. he replied with an okay before starting to get ready.

he wore just a pair of black leather pants and a white shirt, his rings and necklaces being the main accessories. he looked one less time in the mirror before leaving his house and making his way toward your apartment.

he picked you up first cause he wanted to be able to spend at least 10 minutes alone with you before picking up rhea.

his breath caught in his throat when he saw you walking down the street with the cutest and hottest short green dress you’ve ever worn.

“dios mio…” he whispered. you were flawless. your make up matched your outfit. your hair falling effortlessly on your shoulders. your smile always present on your face.

“hey” you smiled at him before sitting on the passenger seat, knowing that later you would have to fight with rhea for that seat as she always hated sitting in the back.

he greeted you before driving over “that dress looks good on you” he tried to compose himself but your were making it hard, you were making him hard.

“oh thank you…” you blushed “ you don’t look so bad either” you made him laugh.

you could feel the tension while he was driving to rhea. it was like as if he was nervous to be in your presence.

he drove fast, not trusting his own thoughts. of course, rhea fought to be in passenger seat but damian wasn’t having any of that so the moment she stepped into the car, he drove towards the club.

he thought that maybe once there, he could use some distraction.

the moment you entered the club your eyes met the infamous boy you’ve been texting for the past few days. he wasn’t alone either. but before you could approach him, rhea led you and damian towards a little table in the corner, saying that over there you would have more privacy.

damian started to feeling a little uncomfortable. he was used to partying but he couldn’t put his mind together when he was around you.

“it’s a party rhea…let’s dance!” you shouted trying to speak over the loud music.

“i’ll drink something first, you go and have fun! damian are you staying here or are you going?” rhea asked t turning to face damian.

“i’ll order a soda…don’t wanna drink if i have to get your drunk asses back home” he tried to laugh about it but the when he saw boys looking at you, he just wanted to rip their heads off.

“fine…i’ll see you later” you smiled and waved them goodbye.

damian watched you while you were getting loose on the dance floor but when people started to join the party, he lost sight of you. you moved to the back, trying to see the famous boy you wanted to meet but when you saw him dancing with another girl, your heart dropped.

why did he even invite you if he didn’t want to see you?

you moved the bar, wanting to drawn your sorrow in alcohol. the guy at the bar saw how miserable you were and he pitied you so he offered you a strong vodka cocktail. you didn’t know what you were drinking, you didn’t even care, you just wanted to forget how excited you were for tonight and how stupid you were thinking that some guy finally thought about you.

while drinking you spotted rhea already on the dance floor, awkwardly dancing knowing that the clubs weren’t exactly her places. that brought a little smile to her face but the smile suddenly fell when you saw damian dancing with a woman.

no, not a girl. a grown ass woman.

in your eyes, she was beautiful. she was everything you weren’t yet. she had some cute wrinkles when she smiled. a blue dress that fitted perfectly her curves. damian’s hands were all over her body, from her back to her ass and you couldn’t shake those weird feelings away.

maybe it was the alcohol - you thought.

damian didn’t even know the woman’s name. she told him but he didn’t care. the moment he lost sight of you, his mind started to wander ;

what if you were making out with some guy? what if you wanted just to have fun and not have anything serious?

you were young after all, he would have perfectly understood if those were your intentions. but then he spotted you. a drink in your hand and an empty glass next to you, sign that it wasn’t your first drink. you were dozing off and when he looked at the time, he was shocked when the clock signed 2 am already.

two hours passed in what felt like ten minutes and he wondered what did you do all night long. he excused himself from the unknown woman and he walked towards you.

“mariposa…” his voice gently woke you from your own thoughts.

“hey…” he knew something was off.

“i hope you’re not abusing these cocktails” he joked making you chuckle a little.

“this is my second -…”

“third” the barman corrected you.

“oh right…third vodka cocktail…it’s good, it tastes like syrup but alcoholic” you joked, clearly drunk.

“and that’s my sign to take you back home” damian laughed, helping you off the bar stool and keeping a firm hand on your back to make sure you wouldn’t fall.

he signed to rhea and she happily left the dance floor “finally…my feet are killing me” she laughed but her face drop when she saw your condition “what’s wrong with her?”

“she’s drunk” damian laughed.

“i hate boys…” was all that came out of your mouth. your mind wasn’t even thinking at this point, you were just expressing your feelings.

damian wanted to know more about your outburst but the music was making it hard for him to understand your words.

he took you out and back to the car, rhea following behind. she was too tired that she didn’t even want to to fight with you for the car seats.

“why do you hate boys?” rhea asked laughing a little. she knew you could be a little dramatic sometimes.

“i was supposed to meet a boy here but when i saw him, he was dancing with someone else…and she was very pretty…very very pretty” you said half drunk.

damian was pissed. oh, he was beyond mad.

that guy didn’t even know how lucky he was to even be in your presence.

“she couldn’t have been prettier than you” damian whispered “you’re so beautiful, angel” he tried to cheer you up.

you genuinely smiled and put your hand over his bigger one.

too tired, rhea didn’t even know what was going on so she simply agreed with damian.

once rhea was back home, damian felt more at ease being alone with you. he finally could talk with you, comfort you or let you cry if you needed to.

“damian…” you called his name.

“yes?”

“can you stay at my place? i feel like i don’t wanna be alone tonight…” your soft voice said and he nodded, promising you that he wouldn’t have left you alone.

he gently helped you out of the car, his hand on your hips making sure you wouldn’t lose your balance. once inside you kicked your heels somewhere in the room, making damian giggle. he helped you sitting down on your big puffy couch and he gave you some water to drink.

“thanks…” you shyly smiled.

he sat next to you, gently covering you with your pink blanket.

“do you wanna talk?” he offered but you shook your head no.

“i just wanna a hug” at this point you weren’t even drunk anymore, maybe a little tipsy. you were miserable and embarrassed.

damian sadly smiled and opened his arms for you. he could hold you every night.

“it’s okay…” he whispered when he heard you sobbing “angel…it’s okay”

“it’s not…i thought that someone finally liked me…” you cried.

he wanted to scream how much in love he was with you but he didn’t want to overwhelm you know. and the worst, he didn’t want to ruin your friendship.

“hey…you’re young, you told me that you weren’t looking for a man, this was just a boy…you’ll find someone who can appreciate you, i promise you” he softly kissed your head.

“it’s easy for you…you’re hot and all the women want you, you don’t know what it’s like to feel attracted by someone only for that person to ignore you” you didn’t mean to be so rude towards damian, at the end of the day, he was just trying to help you.

“mariposa trust me…i know what it feels like” his words made you curious so you looked at him, letting him continue “i like someone who doesn’t like me back” he chuckled “and she’s the most beautiful person ive ever seen…”

“she’s stupid” you said making him laugh. if only you knew he was talking about you “does she know?”

“i can’t tell her…” he whispered.

“why not?” you were now invested in this conversation.

“i don’t wanna ruin our friendship, she’s special to me” damian tried to hold himself back when he saw your little face scrunch while you were thinking of something to say back. he found you adorable.

“i think you should take the risk…you’ll never know what she feels if you don’t tell her”

“it’s not that simple…i feel like i’m not good enough for her. she’s so full of life, and younger than me…i don’t know if she would like to date an old man like me” he spoke like he was really in love with this person and the fact that he couldn’t have her was hurting him.

“as long as she’s not a minor i would say, go for it” you made him laugh.

“i promise you, she’s not a minor” he couldn’t keep his smile off of his face “i feel like if i do something wrong i might lose her and i couldn’t handle it”

“you really like her uh?” you teased.

“more than you can imagine…” he breathed.

you thought that the situation was serious and you didn’t know why but you felt some sort of jealousy towards this mysterious woman. you’ve never thought about damian like that but you couldn’t stop imagining all the times he’s been sweet and kind with you.

“i wouldn’t mind dating someone older” you said, making damian’s head turning immediately to your face again “as long as he’s treating me right, as long as he respects me and loves me, age is just a number right?”

he looked into your eyes, trying to see if you were lying or if what you were saying was true “yeah…age is just a number” those words gave him a little hope.

there was silence between the two of you. you were both staring at each others, wondering if you should talk or not.

you broke the silence first “she would be so lucky to have you damian…the way you’re always generous and supportive, the way you care about others, i love how you always make sure everyone is okay before you check on yourself” you softly laughed “plus you give the comfiest hugs…i’d be jealous if she wouldn’t let you hug me anymore”

damian found your little confession cute, and even if you were still a little tipsy, he knew you and your words were sincere.

“that won’t happen trust me” his voice thick, sending shivers through your body “but maybe you’re right…i should tell her how i feel”

you nodded, feeling a little jealous about the woman he had a crush on but before you could speak, he gently lifted your chin up, making you look him into his eyes “i’m taking the risk now so please don’t freak out…but i like you, i’ve always liked you…and i know it might sound crazy but you’ve been on my mind since i’ve met you…”

“that was two years ago…” you whispered.

“yeah…i’ve been trying to tell myself that this was only a crush, that it would go away but two years have passed and i’m more in love with you than i was before because i got to meet you, i got to work with you and get to know you better…and i tried to get you out of my head because in my mind this thing couldn’t work, i tried to get with other women but everything reminded me of you” his thumb softly stroking your cheek, making you melt into his touch “this probably is gonna ruin our friendship or we can pretend nothing happened but i needed to say it, you deserved to know…”

you took his hands into yours and softly smiled at him. in that moment you realised that you didn’t need to look for any man, you already had one by your side, ready to risk it all just for you.

“please say something” he begged, worried that he might overstepped.

“i think i just realised how stupid i was for not noticing this before…i always complain and complain and you’re always here for me…you’re always here to support me and cheer me up and i’ve never noticed how much you actually care for me…”

“i will always care about you y/n…” that was all he said before you took control of the situation and gently pushed him to the edge of the couch, hoovering him and sitting on his lap. if you were sober you probably wouldn’t have the courage to do that so you thanked the vodka running through your body before touching his face with your small hands. one look at him was all you needed before softly kissing his lips. he melted into your kiss. his hands moving to your back, keeping you still while your hands moved from his cheeks to his long hair. tugging and playing with them, you both smiled into the kiss.

“i like you too damian…” you whispered making him chuckle.

“well i hope so”

“oh shut up” you joked before kissing him again. you didn’t mean to grind on his lap but when you did, you heard him moan into your mouth, making you shiver.

“fuck…” he whispered.

he needed to have you. he wanted to have you naked for him but not tonight. not like that, with you still half drunk. you made him hard but he knew he could take care of it, right now, he wanted to make sure that you were okay.

“y/n…” he softly said making you look at him “we should go to bed…”

“and?”

“and sleep” he laughed at your annoyed face “not tonight hermosa…i wanna take things slow with you, i wanna do this right”

you saw that he was being serious so you nodded, trusting damian completely, you knew he was going to treat you the way you deserved and you couldn’t complain - for once.

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