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azrielbrainrot · 6 hours ago

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Moonlit Shadows - Act II

Pairing: Azriel x F!Reader

Description: When tasked to find the once famed Temple of the Moon Goddess, Azriel only expected to find old forgotten ruins, if anything at all. He could have never imagined that not only would he find a temple but also someone who would change his life forever.

Tropes/Tags: Star Crossed Lovers (in a way), Forbidden Romance, Slow Burn, Mutual Pining, Strangers to Friends to Lovers, some Angst with a Happy Ending

Warnings: hints of angst, tiny bit suggestive, making out?

Word Count: 8,7k

Rating: 18+

Notes: This part was running even longer than the first one so I split it into two parts and my plans for this story to only have 3 parts have changed into 4. I can't help myself in adding little details to this story, I love these two so much. Also just realized how long it has been since the first part, I'm so sorry for how long it took. Hope you enjoy!

Act I

It's almost unbelievable how much life can change within two weeks, to the point Azriel can hardly remember what it was like to live without a mate, without you. This is only the third time he has come to the temple after you agreed to give the bond a try, and he's already eternally glad you did. Sitting on the steps to the temple, watching the sun set over the mountain while his mate told him about her life was now a normal occurrence. He truly couldn't believe his luck.

Not even a month ago, Azriel would have spent the time he had between missions either training himself to exhaustion or simply doing some more spy work behind his High Lord's back. Every family dinner or outing was plagued by his cruel thoughts, always murmuring about his unworthiness while he watched his friends happy and in love, never allowing him a moment of reprieve. But now he got to meet his mate, talk to her for hours and learn her innermost thoughts. By the Mother, he was even contemplating asking Rhys for some time off for the first time in his life so he could see you more often.

“It's impossible to get tired of this view,” you murmur, taking in the barely visible sun rays as the sky turns different shades of pink and orange. As cliché as it sounds, Azriel thought the same thing as he watched you.

He manages to drag his eyes away from your beautiful, peaceful face, studying the view you'd shared with him. You were right, this view could easily rival Velaris at night. Since the temple sat at the top of the mountain, you could see the entire forest from here, and, as beautiful as the sunset had been, he knows the moonlight brings out the true beauty of this place, and yours as well. It's almost unbelievable how you could become even more captivating than you already were, he could hardly take his eyes off you when the moon rays were shining down on you, reflecting on your white hair and adding an even more intense twinkle to your white, silvery eyes.

“How long have you been living here?”

“Almost four hundred years,” you say, nibbling on the biscuits the temple provided at the wave of your hand. He had learned the temple shared a similar spell to the House of Wind and Rhys' cabin. “I was almost thirty when I came.”

The thought of you locked in this temple for that long brings up memories of the dark cell his father kept him in when he was a child, but he tries to shake them away quickly. You were here of your own free will, and as far as he could tell you rather enjoyed living in the temple. This place couldn't be compared to the cell he'd been in any way.

He hopes you didn't catch where his thoughts went, this bond is hard to control most of the time and feelings often filter through unattended. It's because of the feelings the bond brings up that he often finds himself thinking of those moments he has been trying to forget for centuries as well. It almost feels like the bond is prying open everything he has kept locked away, wanting to lay him bare before his mate.

Still, it was hard to believe that you would be completely satisfied living hidden away, no matter how shiny your cage or how fulfilling your role in the temple was. He enjoys his quiet time a lot more than the average person, something even his family doesn't understand at times, but he can't imagine what it's like to live alone for centuries, with no one's company but your own. Azriel couldn't have survived with only his thoughts as company, not when his mind is such an ugly place, even his duty wouldn't keep him alive then.

You smile up at him before he has the chance to put his worries into the right words. “I know what you're thinking. It gets lonely up here, I can't deny that, and I know I've missed a lot of experiences over the course of my life, some that I might never get the chance to relive, but I've always been happy up here.”

“Do you have any family left? Friends?”

“No. Any friends I had before coming here have probably long forgotten about me, some might not even be alive anymore,” you look at him then, hesitation making itself known in your tone and mannerisms. He might have overstepped without meaning to.

“My parents passed away a few decades ago. They came to visit me as much as they could, and we'd send each other letters every few weeks. They came by to spend every Solstice and birthday with me.” You let out a small laugh, “Once they had a little fight and my mom just showed up here with a bag full of clothes and a couple boxes of cupcakes.” You look down at your hands, a lump forming in your throat, “They're the ones I miss the most.”

“I'm sorry.”

There was a tight feeling coiling around his chest, but he can't quite pinpoint if it was his own response to you being sad or if your feelings were bleeding into his own. All he knew is that he wanted to put a smile back on your face.

“It's okay. They were both close to a millennia old and lived their life to the fullest. I would have liked to be with them in their final moments, but it wouldn't have changed anything.”

“Is it really impossible for you to leave? Even at times like those?”

You clear your throat, trying to get rid of the emotion talking about your parents' deaths evoked. “Yes, being bound to the temple is part of the oath I made. I'm not entirely sure what would happen if I actually managed to break the wards, but I would lose my powers and wouldn't be able to come back at the very least.”

The emphasis you put into the final words told him you thought more would happen. Breaking an oath with a God could very well be fatal, since even a regular bargain made between fae can take someone's life if not fulfilled. He feels a string tightening around his heart as it usually does when he's reminded of your predicament. You will never leave this temple, and, as much as he wants to respect your wishes, he can't help but mourn what your life could have been, what the two of you could have been. There's so much he wishes he could show you, beautiful places he wants to take you to, and people he wishes you could meet.

“There were times when it was hard to be stuck here.” Your voice breaks him out of his thoughts, finding you've turned around, sitting cross-legged as you face him. “Obviously it was hard when my parents died, though the Goddess allowed their ashes to be brought to me so I could scatter them on this mountain,” your eyes travel to his wings, lingering on a few scars that will never leave the leathery skin, “I think it was even harder to bear when Amarantha came into Prythian and imprisoned the High Lords, and then when the war with Hybern broke out.”

You let silence fall between you for a few moments, eyes falling down onto your hands, kneading your left palm with your thumb as the first rays of moonlight made the aura around you more noticeable, a faint white light glowing around your entire body. He hopes it's not sacrilegious to think so, but you truly looked like a Goddess in this moment. His eyes fall onto your hands as well, debating on reaching to hold them in his warm ones when you resume your explanation.

“This power the Goddess shared with me has made me very strong, enough so that She leaves the protection of the temple entirely to me, but the biggest downside is that I can't help outside these wards,” you look up into his eyes then, regret lacing into your words, “I could have helped you. If the oath that gave me these powers didn't include staying in this temple, I could have tried to placate Amarantha before she could take everyone Under the Mountain, or at the very least fight alongside you during the war. A lot of people wouldn't have lost their lives if I could have helped.”

He understands what you mean, he has fought even while injured multiple times, during this war even, not willing to stop when he knows he can help even if it cost him his life, so he knows that watching from afar knowing you could have made a difference had to have been extremely frustrating, but he also can't help but feel selfishly glad you weren't there. The war had been bloody and cruel, if he could he would shield you from that sight if it was the last thing he did.

“You said it was Fate that decided you were supposed to live in this temple and protect it, right?” You nod, confusion written on your face. “Then it wasn't your place to be in the war. The temple was written into your life, and the war was written into ours. There's nothing we can do to change our fate.”

He seems to have said the right thing as you watch his face, the pained expression you previously wore slowly being replaced with a happier one, a smile even making its way into your lips, not quite as bright as before but a good start nonetheless.

“I still wish I could have gone,” you say, a twinkle in your eye, “maybe then you would have been written into my life sooner.”

Azriel had never found himself blushing as often as he does when he's around you in the five hundred years he's been alive. The worst part is it seems like you're not doing it on purpose. You keep complimenting him, showing him how much you enjoy having him in your life effortlessly, as if it's simply in your nature. Still, he can clearly see how much you enjoy the fact that you can bring him to this state so easily, a proud expression obvious on your face as you watch color take over the tips of his ears. Luckily for him, it's extremely easy to turn you into a bashful mess as well.

He shifts his weight onto his palm, leaning closer to you, a swift and fast movement, that of a trained soldier. Your sweet, intoxicating scent assaults him instantly, images of how he would let it intertwine with his own invading his mind for a treacherous moment - the mating bond seldom lets him have a moment of peace. Your breath hitches under his attention, wide eyes locked onto his.

“We've been written into each other's lives from the moment we were born, before our world was created even.” Your eyes travel down to his lips for a beat, the movement was quick enough that he might have mistaken it if it weren't for your proximity. It brings a satisfied smile to his lips as he adds, “whether at the temple or on that battlefield I would have found my way to you. That I can promise you.”

The reaction you give him is nothing short of delicious. Mouth slightly agape as you struggle to maintain eye contact at his confession, the wild rhythm of your heartbeat ringing in his ears and down the bond. He decides to push his luck a bit and test the waters, leaning even closer, enough so that your warm breath meets his skin, eyes dropping to your lips before stealing a cookie from the plate that sat beside you, straightening up as he brings it to his mouth, giving you space once more. He can't help the smile from growing when he hears your intake of breath, eyes dropping to your lap and hands smoothing down your skirt as you try to regain composure.

On one hand, he almost feels bad for teasing you like this, knowing there's a big difference in how you have both led your lives up to this point, even if you're relatively close in age. He would also hate to make you feel actually uncomfortable in any way. But, on the other hand, he wants nothing more than to whisper the most depraved things he wants to do to you so he can watch desire take over your face, so he can erase any semblance of innocence away. Although knowing exactly how experienced or not you are will end up being pertinent information if you both choose to keep chasing this bond, Azriel decides to take mercy on you tonight and change the subject.

“What was your life like before coming here?”

Looking up at him with tinted cheeks and wide eyes, you blink a few times, taking you a moment to answer, probably not expecting him to ask you a question so soon or too lost in your thoughts - he briefly wonders if they're any similar to his. Azriel can almost feel the bond purring, that ancient, inexplicable tether delighted at both your reaction and his playfulness, at your closeness.

“I'd say I used to live a pretty normal life,” you start, focusing on his shadows as they played over the steps, still too embarrassed to keep his gaze, “I used to live in a fairly small town, one of those where everyone knows each other and nothing too exciting ever happens,” a nostalgic smile takes over your lips, remembering your childhood. Azriel wishes he could take you back there, have you show him around the place where you grew up.

“My parents owned a small bakery so I helped them around before coming here. I liked baking with them, I wasn't too bad at it either, though the early schedule wasn't my favorite, I always liked sleeping in.” You seem lost in thought for a moment before shrugging and continuing, “Outside of that I had a few friends and a couple of lovers… nothing special.”

Azriel tries to ignore the sick twist of jealousy he feels at the mention of past lovers, knowing it's completely unfair to you, and irrelevant to your relationship now, but that damned bond doesn't know the first thing about rationality. Rhysand wasn't kidding when he said the mating bond grates, at times it was almost suffocating.

“One of the things I miss the most from those times are my parents' pastries,” you pout slightly, a playful glint in your eyes, “I may be biased but they were delicious.”

“It might not be the same, but I can bring you some from Velaris,” he offers. “The bakeries in town are always putting out new delicious things. I'm sure you would love them.”

“I'd like that very much, Azriel,” you say, that blinding smile he loves so much returning to your lips, a smile of his own mirroring yours. His name sounds like heaven, hell, and everything in between falling from your lips.

“Next time I'll bring you some of my favorites,” he pauses, a thought occurring to him as he tilts his head, “Actually, I don't have too much of a sweet tooth so I'll bring you Cassian's favorites instead. I think you would much prefer the chocolate covered cakes he likes to eat than my lemon tarts.”

“It's a deal then,” you nod at him, extending your hand for him to take, Azriel doesn't resist even for a second, letting you shake his hand as if you were in fact making a business transaction. “And if you come empty-handed I might put in a word with the Goddess and not let you in.” He lets out a chuckle, squeezing your hand before reluctantly letting go, missing the warmth of your palm against his immediately. To think there would come a day where he would actually want someone to keep holding his hand.

“You can bring some of your lemon tarts too, I want to try what you like first,” you tilt your head, “but you're right, my favorite is always chocolate.”

Azriel chuckles, “Both it is.”

The rest of your time together is spent much like this, talking for hours about any and everything. By the time he forces himself to tell you he needs to go back to Velaris, the moon was already ready to make its way for the sun once more, and your eyelids were significantly heavier, trying your hardest to ignore your fatigue in favor of staying with him for as long as possible.

He never knows what to do or say when it's time to say goodbye to you. It's abundantly clear that neither of you want him to leave. There's also always a part of him that fears he won't be able to come back, that for whatever reason the Goddess decides he's not in need of the temple anymore and the wards keep him out of your reach.

Aside from that, your relationship has been walking the line between platonic and romantic from the first day. You wanted to keep your heart and his as safe as possible given the entire situation. He couldn't fault you for that, but that meant you were stuck acting like friends, as if a mating bond wasn't connecting your bodies and souls, and because of it Azriel couldn't grab your cheeks and kiss you like he's been desperately dreaming of, even though your eyes find themselves entranced by his lips as often as the other way around.

As he gets lost in thought, wondering how your lips would taste, your eyes drop to his shadows, unaware of it all. Dark wisps moving from his own natural shadow cast by the moonlight to yours, some of the bravest, more disobedient ones even swirling up to your ankles tentatively. At least they were still being respectful.

“They like me,” you smile brightly down at them.

Like is not a strong enough word to describe his shadows' feelings when it comes to you. At times it's even hard to make them focus on their job as they sit and wonder what you're up to in the temple. Part of this might be his fault since he has always used them to spy on anyone he needed to, and now he's finding it hard to explain to these beings, who struggle with social cues as it is, that spying is a breach of privacy, something he only does because it's his job, and the last thing he would ever do to you, so they can't go and check on you simply because he misses you every second of the day.

Apart from that they've also taken to giving him romantic advice - which has been disturbing to say the least, - whispering words into his ear that they think you would like to hear, trying to guide him to the flowers or pastries they somehow know you prefer as he passes by the market street, even pushing him to sing to you. They go as far as trying to convey their own feelings to you through him, whispering praises in his ear, and in turn making the bond inside him wish he could send his own shadows on a trip to the bottom of the ocean never to return.

“Yes, I think they do,” he says defeatedly as he watches one of his impertinent shadows travel up to your hand, swirling around it as you bring it up closer to your face for inspection. He can't wait to hear how delighted it is of gaining your attention.

“Shouldn't they hide from the light?”

Azriel takes a step closer, holding your hand and ordering the shadows to cross over to his body so he can have this moment with you. Raising his hand up to your cheek, scarred thumb caressing your soft skin as he murmurs, “Not from yours.”

The irony of his mate being someone who quite literally glowed in the dark wasn't lost on him. For some reason, the fact only further proved you were made for each other in his mind. It's almost like the Mother was telling him that no matter how dark his soul was, it would never diminish your light as it glowed ever eternal alongside your Goddess.

“I really have to go now.”

It pains him to say it, but he's already going to be late and that'll raise questions he's been trying very hard to avoid. It was enough of a miracle that Rhys hadn't told anyone - outside of Feyre of course - that Azriel had found his mate, and he would like to keep it that way for as long as possible. They would ask him too many questions he wouldn't know how to answer, and, admittedly, he also wants to avoid the teasing comments while the bond is so fresh - nothing good can come out of giving Cassian and Nesta a way to make him blush with only a couple of words.

“Alright,” you smile up at him, but it doesn't reach your eyes. Every time he has to leave you behind, he considers giving up everything and moving to this temple with you.

You raise on your tiptoes to place a kiss on his cheek, his eyes closing as a shudder runs through him, wings coiling tighter into his back. His other hand comes up to the other side of your face, his lips falling upon your forehead as a wave of satisfaction rushes his side of the bond. Both of your hearts beating wildly as he steps away slowly and starts walking closer to the edge of the stairs.

“I'll come back as soon as possible,” he promises one more time before taking flight.

“I know, Azriel. I'll be waiting.”

⭒.˚ ☾⭒.˚

The unmistakable feeling of someone passing through the barrier rushes over you, sending your heart racing immediately. For a moment you think it's Azriel coming by unannounced, a smile breaking out on your lips as you get up to your feet, but a quick look into the bond that lays dormant inside you is enough to tell you he's still in Velaris, far away from the temple.

Your smile drops and a wave of sadness washes over you, freezing you in place, heart dropping at the reminder of the distance that lays between you and your mate, of the days you'll still have to endure alone before his next visit.

You feel movement again, now closer to the top steps, and shake yourself out of unwanted thoughts, pushing them all to the back of your mind as you shake any stray cookie crumbs from your trousers. If it isn't Azriel coming to see you then it's definitely someone coming to visit the temple, and you have a duty to fulfill.

It's only been a few weeks since Azriel first came looking for the temple, you've never had visitors showing up so close together. They're usually few and far in between, leaving you on your own atop the mountain for years at a time as the rumors about the temple die off among most of the population. The prospect of seeing someone again so soon has excitement rushing through your veins, completely overshadowing the solemn feelings from before.

You walk to the mirror, quickly checking your appearance before winnowing straight to the top of the stairs, catching your new visitor by surprise as she walks towards the temple slowly. The gasp she lets out when she spots you waiting for her brings a bigger smile to your lips, making you almost giddy as you cross your hands behind your back.

“Welcome to the Temple of the Moon. I'm the keeper and sole habitant of this temple and I've been tasked to keep it safe from any possible threats as well as helping anyone the Goddess deems worthy of being shown the way, just like you have.”

The well rehearsed speech comes to you naturally, the words flowing effortlessly from your mouth as you take in your visitor's wonder, curious eyes taking in the beautiful place. Of course she didn't have any speech rehearsed but it might as well have been since her next words mirror everyone else's when they arrive.

“I never knew there was a temple here,” the awe in her face brings you the usual sense of pride.

“It's a bit of a secret,” you wink at her, walking closer to the temple, motioning with your hand for her to follow you.

“My grandmother used to say these mountains were the most beautiful place in Prythian so I wanted to spread her ashes here, but I always thought she meant the actual mountains,” she muses. “This place is breathtaking.”

“The temple is hidden behind a powerful spell. I'm afraid when talking about this day your memories will be somewhat limited,” you explain softly as you lead her to the gardens in the back, the perfect view for her grandmother's final resting place.

As you go through the usual explanation, you realize you truly skipped most of it when it came to Azriel's first visit, though you still think you did better than expected given the circumstances. It's easy to forget your own name or any rehearsed speeches when you find yourself face to face with your mate.

The rest of the visit goes by fairly quickly. You lead her to the gardens and let her choose the perfect place among the flowers and trees, helping her spread the ashes as instructed, saying a quick prayer and then allowing her a moment to grieve, standing off to the side while still keeping a watchful eye over everything.

You can't help but let your eyes wander to the spot where you had spread your parents' ashes, the tears lining the young fae's eyes reminding you of the countless ones you had spilled as you went through the same. Over the years you've grown somewhat accustomed to their absence, - never fully, you've long since accepted that would be impossible, - but recent events have made you bitterly aware of it.

You wished you could tell your parents you had found your mate, would give anything to feel the anxiety of introducing them to Azriel. Now you can only imagine nervously writing them a letter, telling them all about the charming fae the Mother had chosen for you. They would show up at the temple the next day, not even the Goddess would be able to keep your mother from meeting her daughter's fated mate. Gods, they would have loved him.

A weak sigh escapes you. Nothing could take away the pain of losing a loved one, but you hope that the thought that her grandmother now lies within the temple's walls will lessen her grief even if just for a moment.

It's time to accompany her back to the stairs in no time, her tearful thanks and goodbyes echoing over the entrance hall. Watching the young fae descend the steps brings you a sense of accomplishment as usual, but this time there's an annoyingly acute emptiness growing inside you, tainting it.

Most visitors don't linger in the temple, only getting what they came for before going on their way, before going back to their busy lives, but as you watch her disappear between the trees, you're left wishing she would have stayed longer, sat with you and talked for a moment.

It wouldn't be fair not to acknowledge that this feeling had always manifested inside you after every visit you've received over the centuries, especially back when your parents were the ones stopping by and leaving you with hesitant glances over their shoulders, but you know that it had only grown more noticeable after Azriel first arrived.

Becoming familiar with someone's presence once again had made you more aware of your situation, more aware of just how many words and thoughts you had been keeping to yourself in your years of seclusion. It reminded you of how alone you truly were up in this temple. Before, the silence had been part of your routine, something you had no problem falling back onto after the rare visitor came and disturbed it. Now it felt like a consistently harder task, the silence ringing too loud in your ears, making you too aware of the echo that followed your footsteps.

Sitting down on the first step, you let out a sigh from deep in your chest, stretching your legs out, only noticing then that you had not changed out of your slippers in your rush earlier. It's a shame, you only really wear your nicer shoes when you have guests, which even with Azriel's more regular visits doesn't happen nearly often enough.

You feel yet another stab through your heart when you realize your first instinct is wanting to share the news with your mate, tell him about your visitor and your silly mistake, tell him how it reminded you of your parents and maybe even confide in him how lonely it all had made you feel.

You've been alone for so long that you had forgotten what wanting to share every exciting thing that happens with someone felt like. What is quickly becoming a familiar ache settles over you at the cold reminder that Azriel isn't within your reach. You'll have to wait until he visits again to share these news with him and see the smile on his face.

It's been over a week since he last came by, which wouldn't be much time at all if he weren't your mate and you couldn't feel him through the bond, so close but so far away. He warned you he would be busy with an assignment, even promised he would make it up to you when he was finished with it, but you can't rationalize how much you miss him or how much you wish he was by your side, and so you keep sitting on those steps well into the night, waiting for someone who isn't coming.

⭒.˚ ☾⭒.˚

With delectable excitement running through his veins, the kind that only you could bring out of him, Azriel takes one last look in the mirror, fixing his shirt and running his fingers through his hair, making sure everything looks perfect and in place before entrusting yet another box of pastries to his shadows. He has been on the hunt for the best chocolate cookies in Velaris ever since you told him they were your favorite, but he also can't stop himself from trying to spoil you in any way he can.

It's been over a week since he last saw you, and Azriel has been counting down the days for your next meeting ever since he left your side. He couldn't help but feel uncharacteristically annoyed whenever he remembered the mission that ended up keeping him away from home, and in turn from you, for several days. Deep down he knew Rhys had actually been giving him more free time to go visit you than he usually would have in other circumstances, even covering for him when he disappeared for hours on end so the others didn't find it too suspicious. Unfortunately, the bond often spoke louder, and with it came a moodiness that Azriel only felt lifting up earlier today, when he started getting ready to see you.

He makes his way downstairs, already worrying about how the flight will mess up the hair he had just been combing through so carefully. If it weren't for the wards surrounding the House of Wind, he would have winnowed straight to the temple.

“You took a bath.”

A voice coming from the sitting room calls after him, effectively stopping him in his tracks, shadows crawling up his tense body. He curses himself, some spymaster he was, so caught up in his thoughts that he didn't even notice he had company nor the forethought to avoid it. It seems he won't be able to leave without anyone noticing after all.

Azriel hesitates for a moment, unwilling to linger and lose even a second of precious time with his mate. Leaving would only make him appear more suspicious though, so he takes a couple steps into the room instead, finding the oldest and the youngest Archeron sisters looking back at him with amusement written in their eyes.

“I bathe.”

“You don't usually use any of the smelling washes.” Nesta's tone sounds nothing short of accusatory, glancing at Feyre while she talks as if trying to prove a point. “Not since recently at least.”

Azriel was never one to overthink about his appearance, perfectly content with keeping things simple, so it really doesn't come as a surprise that his best friend would notice his newly found appreciation for it. He had also not only accepted a few of Mor's invites to go shopping but also started using the clothes, fragrances and even accessories her and Rhys had gifted him over the years - something that unfortunately the High Lord had picked up on too and teased him relentlessly for whenever they were alone.

And, even in his recent distracted state, he would have to be a fool not to notice Nesta's curiosity towards his whereabouts and sudden mood changes. She has even been asking him about his missions, feigning interest in his spymaster duties just so she can catch him in a lie, knowing he would never dress like this to go spy on their enemies.

“Are you suggesting I smell, Nesta?”

“No, you smell amazing,” she clarifies quickly, sounding so sincere that he feels the corner of his mouth twitch up. Now he almost wishes Cassian was here.

“Then what's the problem?”

Knowing Feyre as well he does, it's extremely commendable that she's managing to keep quiet through this whole conversation, even more so that she hasn't said anything when Nesta surely came asking her what she knew. It also sends a certain warmth through him that she's going against her instincts to keep his secret - even though she and Rhysand have probably been gossiping about him every chance they get.

“There's no problem. I'm simply curious,” she says, clearing her throat before adding with a wicked glint in her eye, “you can't tell me you used your best smelling cologne to go on a mission.”

“I didn't say I was going on a mission,” he says, humoring her for a bit.

As amusing as this unexpected back and forth was turning out to be, it was, at the same time, stealing some of the precious time he had with you. He should have already made it out of Velaris, over the mountains where he would winnow straight to you.

“Then where are you going, if you don't mind me asking?”

“I'm going to have dinner with my mother,” Azriel offers, tone not wavering around the lie even for a moment.

“Oh.”

He feels a little bad for lying, especially since he's using his mother of all people as an excuse, but he knows that if he explained the situation to her she wouldn't mind at all. In fact, this reminded him to make some time to visit his mom, not only had it been quite a while since he last went, but he also wanted to tell her all about you.

Hiding the truth from Nesta and the rest of his family wasn't something he was content with either. Azriel knows they would all be overjoyed with the fact that he had found his Mother blessed mate, but he wanted to make sense of the situation before telling them. As things stand you're simply his friend, even with the shimmering bond between you, and you're still up in your temple, far away from everyone. He wouldn't even be able to properly explain the situation or his feelings on it, Gods know he tries whenever Rhys asks. He probably wouldn't even be able to take them to meet you.

Talking to his mother was always easier though. She never expected answers or explanations, she truly only wanted him to be happy. He can imagine the load off her shoulders it would be to find out her son had found a mate. Yes, he needs to make time to tell her, if no one else.

“I hope you have a lovely dinner, Az,” Feyre says, hiding a knowing smile behind her teacup, apparently not helping herself in at least getting a word in.

“Yes, I hope it all goes well,” Nesta adds, recovering rather quickly, the glint returning to her eyes as she likely reminds herself that one dinner with his mother doesn't explain all his strange recent behavior. Maybe he could still make a spy out of her, she's definitely determined.

Azriel simply nods and bids them a quick goodbye, doing his best to walk at a normal place to the front door, a relieved sigh escaping him when he shoots up into the air, passing the wards keeping the House of Wind safe, feeling himself get engulfed by his shadows as they take him closer to you.

⭒.˚ ☾⭒.˚

“When you first showed up I thought you weren't a good flier,” you reminisce, leaning back further into the cushions propped at your back, a smile playing at your lips. “Or that maybe you were still young.”

Azriel's gaze darts around the library at your words, a breath escaping him before his beautiful hazel eyes meet yours once again. Biting your lip, you try to stop your smile from growing as you watch a flush traveling across his skin, crawling up his delectable neck until his rounded ears become tinted with a pinkish color.

“My wings froze in place,” he admits with a soft smile of his own. “It's a miracle I landed on my feet at all.”

A giggle escapes you then, followed by a breathy chuckle from him, remembering the way his knees had buckled under his weight, how your own felt equally as weak in the face of the all-consuming mating bond. The sound echoes around the library for a moment, carrying around the bookshelves and artifacts laying about, a delighted sound that these walls have not been privy to too often, so used to the silence as they were, as you were.

This was the first time you've brought him into the library since his first visit and the initial tour of the temple you had given him. You usually stay outside whenever Azriel comes to visit, either sitting by the steps watching the moon and the stars, or in the garden, on a bench by the flowers; under a tree, taking advantage of the soft grass that grows here with the Goddess' blessing. But as time passes and his visits become more frequent, you suddenly felt the urge to show him different parts of the temple, to have these little dates - if you could even call them that - in different places to make up for the fact that you couldn't leave the temple's grounds. The light rain that fell today, signaling the end of summer, had been the perfect opportunity.

What you didn't expect was for it to feel so much more intimate. It shouldn't have come as a surprise honestly, this is your house after all and even if he had been here multiple times he had never really lingered inside so now bringing him to the room you spend most of your days in feels different, it made your heart beat faster as soon as he walked in, the bond screaming in elation when he sat in the sofa you're curled in almost every day, taking his place by your side. You don't think you'll ever be able to sit here without this image popping up into your mind.

“I think you did good under the circumstances,” you offer, hand twitching at your side, wanting to reach out and touch the flush covering his cheek, reaching for another cookie instead to keep your treacherous fingers occupied.

Azriel had made good on his promise to bring you every pastry and sweet from Velaris, never arriving at the temple without carrying something delicious within his shadows. Today he brought you various cookies of different shapes, sizes and flavors. They were all delicious, their rich taste blooming in your mouth when you bit into them, but it seems he overestimates just how much you can eat, especially since he barely helps you at all - you swear you've only seen him eat one singular cookie since you opened this box.

“It sounds like you're just saying that to make me feel better.” You shake your head in denial, you really weren't, but he continues before you can say anything else. “Us Illyrians take a lot of pride in our flying abilities, you know? I'm not sure I can let this go so easily.” The teasing smile that blooms on his face is completely mesmerizing, it almost makes you forget yourself. “You'll have to let me show you.”

It takes you a moment too long to process his words, your silver eyes too caught up on his inviting lips to pay any attention to what he said. You'd like to blame these moments where your thoughts stray when you look at Azriel on the bond, but you're not so sure it was all its doing. If he notices he doesn't let it show, allowing you to meet his eyes again like nothing had happened.

“You want to take me flying?”

“If you let me,” he murmurs softly. The excitement written in his eyes was contagious, and if you didn't know any better you'd say he had been waiting on a chance to ask you.

You'd be lying if you said you hadn't thought of the possibility ever since you first laid eyes on Azriel. You had never seen a winged fae before so flying always seemed like a childish dream, but now you couldn't help feeling a hint of wistfulness every time you saw him land swiftly on top of the steps. Who wouldn't want to fly? The thought of the wind caressing your skin as you cut through the clouds sounded heavenly, not to mention Azriel's arms wrapped around you as he held you against him. The thought summons warmth to your chest, and lower.

“I'd like that,” you say, “but I'm not sure if it will work because of my oath. We would not be able to go far.”

“Around the temple should be fine, right?”

“Yes, I think so.”

“It's a promise then,” he smiles brightly down at you. “Next time I'll take you flying. I would take you right now but it's still raining.”

“Do you know when the next time will be?”

The words escape you before your brain catches up to them. The way his smile falters, and some of his shadows rush to him from where they had been lazily swirling around the library makes you want to take them back immediately. You know they do that when he's upset or sad, something you rarely see when he comes to the temple. The thought that you were the one to make him so makes you want to rip out your heart and beg for his forgiveness.

“I'm only curious. I didn't mean anything by it,” you rush to explain, the last thing you wanted was for him to think you blamed him, or expected more of him. Azriel had been nothing short of perfect and understanding given your limitations.

“I would come every day if I could.”

“I know, Azriel.” You can hear the longing in his voice, filtering in through the bond as well, even if he tries to hide it. “I would go to you if I could too.”

Thankfully this brings the smile back to his lips, even if still somewhat overshadowed by the reality of your relationship. You've noticed Azriel has a hard time believing he's wanted, and you probably only make it worse since you have not accepted the bond.

“I'm not sure when the next time will be. I should be free in a couple of days, but if Rhys and Feyre need me in the meantime it might be longer, and I don't want to keep your hopes up if I might not be able to show up after all,” he explains as he reaches out for your hand tentatively, holding it delicately in his as his thumb starts drawing circles over your open palm, sending a tingling feeling shooting up your arm and straight to your chest. Shouldn't you be the one comforting him?

“I'll be here waiting either way, Azriel. I don't want you to neglect your work because of me,” you say, squeezing his hand, holding it tighter in yours.

“I'm not. There's no immediate threats on the court so things have been relatively calm, and I think I've earned some time off for all the years I worked without it.” The two of you were similar in a lot of ways, how focused you could be on your work and loyal to your duty was one of them. “Rhys has been easier on me too,” he adds.

“Does he know?”

“Since the first night,” Azriel nods, “I tried to hide it but he saw right through me. I haven't told anyone else though.”

You frown softly as his words settle between you, biting your lip softly and hopefully hiding it before he notices. You didn't know how to feel about Azriel having to hide you from his family, having to sneak around whenever he visits you. The way your chest constricted as soon as the words left his mouth told you what the bond felt immediately though. Your eyes drop to your still intertwined hands, the sight making your heart flutter despite your inner turmoil.

A mating bond was an extremely rare and beautiful thing, something you would be proud to tell your friends and family all about, the whole world even, but you can't blame him for not telling them anything when there's no guarantee this will work, when you made it clear from the first day that you didn't think it would work. All he had to do was explain the situation for the expected congratulations and joyous smiles to turn into pity and sympathetic words instead.

“I'm sorry.”

Now it was Azriel's turn to frown, leaning closer to you and squeezing your hand, trying to meet your eyes as you focused on his hand, on the shimmering silver string that kept you eternally bound to each other.

“What are you sorry for?”

“It's my fault you have to hide it.”

“Of course not-”

You cut him off with a shake of your head, tugging on his hand. You were tired of him making excuses for you, of acting like nothing was wrong. If his mate were anyone else, he would have probably at least started dating them regularly by now, might have even already accepted the bond.

“I need you to know,” you look up at him, forcing yourself to keep eye contact with every word even when it becomes too much to bear, “if it weren't for the oath I made and if I could leave the temple, if we could live a normal life, I would accept the bond in a heartbeat.”

You can't quite read the expression that falls over his face, and your nerves are making it impossible to keep a cool head. As the silence stretches on, his hand frozen in yours and his hazel eyes staring right into your soul with unwavering intensity, your heart starts beating extremely loud, pouding at your eardrums as the thought that you said the wrong thing invades your mind.

“Azriel-”

“Can I kiss you?”

“What?”

“Please,” he breathes out, a desperately needy sound coming from deep in his chest. Scarred hands come up to hold your cheeks as he leans down, touching his forehead to yours, hazel eyes closing. “I really want to kiss you.”

You're unsure why he thought you could ever deny him such a request. Leaning in the rest of the way, your lips find his in a soft kiss before you lose your courage. It had been entirely too long since you've felt someone's lips on yours and the fact that it was Azriel, your mate, only made the fire starting inside you burn brighter.

A moan crawls up your throat before you even have a chance to think to keep it down. Azriel swallows it gladly, offering you a deep, satisfied groan of his own as the kiss turns more desperate. All the want you've both tried to keep locked away rising up uninterrupted as teeth and tongues clash, your hands tugging at his soft hair while his fall to your waist, pulling you impossibly closer.

You have no idea how long you're tangled up in each other, the world falling silent while his hands roam your body, but by the time your mind finally clears and you manage to get a grasp on your instincts and on the bond, you find yourself straddling his lap, your dress pushed up to your hips and his shirt half unbuttoned.

Your entire body was glued to him. You could feel every breath he took, the low purring in his chest rumbling against yours, and the evidence of just how much he wanted you pressing against your core. It's as if you had been trying to crawl under his skin, maybe you were, it's not like that would be enough.

Even as you pull apart, chests rising and falling together as you catch your breaths, you don't move away from him, your eyes still closed as you keep your foreheads pressed together. You think it might be impossible to, just the thought makes you want to chain yourself to him, the bond making it difficult to even think at how adamant it is on you keeping your mate as close as possible.

Azriel seems to be of the same mind as he lets out a soft groan, strong arms tightening around you, the sweet pressure pushing an embarrassingly needy and breathy moan past your lips. He leans into your neck, a shiver running through his body as he takes in your scent, the way it deepened with arousal and mixes in with his sending his mind into a frenzy the same way it does yours. If anyone were to walk into this room, they wouldn't be able to tell them apart at all, there wouldn't be any doubts that you were his.

You feel him drop an otherwise chaste kiss to the overheated and sensitive skin of your neck, the way his body tenses at the harsh breath you take in telling you he wanted nothing more than to sink his teeth into it instead. With how out of practice and needy you are at this moment, you think you'd come undone on his lap if he did, the thought sobering you somewhat.

Calling his name softly, surprised by how breathy and undeniably affected your own voice is, you wait for him to gather his own thoughts, abandoning your neck reluctantly, his half-lidded and blown out hazel eyes meeting yours. You know mating bonds are a lot harder to manage for the males so you can't even imagine what is going through his mind, how hard he has to hold himself back from claiming you as his own when you're soaked and pliable on top of him.

Even though you were the one who called his name, you find yourself at a loss for words in the face of his desire. You don't want to tell him to stop and you don't want to move away from him, but you have to, you both know that. And so you kiss him again instead, softly, apologetically.

#azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel x y/n #azriel acotar #acotar x reader #acotar fanfiction #azriel shadowsinger #azriel fic #azriel fluff #my writing

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sotwk · 1 day ago

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Stay With Me (Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader)

When Reader is caught in an active shooter situation, Bucky races to her rescue.

Word count: 1.9k Genre tags: action, romance, hurt/comfort, angst, realized feelings, knight in shining armor Rating: Teen Content Warnings: Gun violence, terrorism/terror, blood, injuries, active shooter event, mention of death, brief foul language To Read on AO3: LINK

Stay With Me

Bucky Barnes x FReader

“He's dead.”

Your whisper seemed as loud as a foghorn in the echo chamber of the deserted stairwell. You clamped a hand tightly over your mouth to mute a sob, letting your terror vent only through the hot tears streaming from your eyes. But beneath the rising tide of fear for your own life ran a current of fury. Anger that you couldn't save Richie, that you failed the wife and toddler waiting at home for him.

“You can leave him now.” Reception was spotty at the landing between the ninth and eighth floors, but you could make out enough of the speaker’s words over the phone. “I'm sorry, but you have to. Get out, just run--get yourself out of the building right now.”

“Bucky…” You staggered up from the floor, transferring your cell phone to your other ear. You swiped your sticky crimson palm against your hip and forced yourself away from the view of your coworker's lifeless body. I'm so sorry, Richie.

The first step down sent a shockwave of pain from the bare sole of your foot up to your knee. You bit down on your lip to squelch a scream and grabbed onto the railing in time to prevent your collapse. Bucky’s garbled voice over the line rose in volume, but you caught none of whatever he said.

“I'm…I'm heading down,” you managed to gasp, and, hooking one arm over the rail like a crutch, proceeded to stumble, one agonizing but determined step at a time, down the flight of stairs. It’s just a bad cut, it won't kill you. You had ditched your high heels so you could more easily bear Richie’s weight, and during the arduous crawl from the meeting room to the stairwell exit, you must have trod on a piece of sharp debris. The AK-wielding gunmen had left behind plenty of it when they demolished the glass-paneled display cases lining the main corridor, firing round after round down the halls to no seeming end or obvious target.

None of those wild shots reached you in your hiding place under the conference table. But Richie, who had braced his weight against the lockless door to ensure no one could enter, collapsed when a bullet punched through wood to catch him right in the shoulder. By the time you attended to him and checked whether the coast was clear to flee, seemingly the entire floor, maybe even the entire building, had cleared out. The one saving grace was the shooters’ timing: by sundown, only a fraction of the building’s two thousand daytime occupants remained. You and Richie were the lucky ones in your department who had chosen that day to work overtime on your big presentation.

When you refused to leave without him, the half-conscious Richie finally agreed to lean against you and hobble along as best as he could. Even when Bucky warned you against moving him, you didn't listen. Your foolish attempt at heroism just caused the true hero to die faster and in greater pain.

“Bucky, are you--” A whimper flew from your throat, and you held the phone away from the pathetic sound. You stopped at the next landing and sucked in a couple of sharp breaths, willing yourself to regain composure. But your legs were shaking so badly, and the smell of blood suddenly made you feel like vomiting. “A-are you close?”

“I'm turning into Centre.” Cell reception had improved enough to make him fully audible. But somehow, hearing his voice clearly made your tears fall faster. “Less than a minute.” He didn't sound even the slightest out of breath, but you knew he was sprinting through the packed city sidewalks with all of his strength. “Just get as close as you can to the ground level. I'll find you.”

How? You wanted to believe him, but a single person inside one of the most massive buildings in Manhattan was a needle in a haystack. Your first instinct once the shooting began had been to call him. Not 911 or your parents or any of your siblings. The guy you've been casually dating for a few months, who's never even spent the night. Even though you'd known him longer than that, when a mutual friend introduced you soon after the rehabilitated and reformed Winter Soldier settled into Brooklyn post-Blip, labeling him “boyfriend” felt like a presumptuous stretch.

Still. Finding yourself in danger, it seemed like common sense to call on the one superhuman you personally knew. And regardless of what you might mean to him, Bucky didn't waste a second in dropping everything to race across the bridge during rush hour, vowing repeatedly to get to you.

“Stay with me.” Bucky said suddenly, making you realize you'd gone completely silent. “It's almost over. SWAT’s in and sweeping the building. They've taken down three guys so far, up on the 19th and 20th. I’m at the corner of Chambers. You’re going to be okay.”

“Really?!” You gasped, and every muscle you possessed seemed to go limp with relief. But that relief broke you, and you slumped down on the step in a puddle of exhaustion and chest-wracking sobs.

You put the call on speaker and let the phone dangle loosely in your grip as you buried your face into your knees. Over the line you could hear the commotion in the street below, of sirens and megaphones as emergency responders barked instructions to each other and to the anxious crowd. And then all that uproar receded, and you knew Bucky had slipped past it all.

“Th-thank God. Thank you!” you choked out. “I… I screwed up so badly. I was stupid, and stubborn, and--”

“No. You did good,” he interjected. “You refused to leave a friend behind. You did everything you could for him. His dying is not on you.”

You glanced upward. “I should go back for him.”

“We’ll get him together, after you’re safe. You’re in the north-eastern wing, right?”

“Yes.” You weren't sure how he already knew your office location. You’d mentioned your government desk job to him maybe once before, in passing, before moving off such a boring conversation topic. You forced yourself back up on your feet and checked the small square signage by the exit door. “I’m still in the stairwell, fourth floor. I can keep going down--”

“No, just stay put. I’m coming.”

Somewhere below you, a door banged open. Strings of loud curses bounced against the walls and heavy footsteps pounded on the metal staircase in a furious ascent.

Fear froze you onto the landing. He halted abruptly when he was just one set of steps away. His eyes were wild and huge on his red, sweaty face, and his look of deranged panic changed at the sight of you. He reached into a pocket of his camo tactical vest and you saw the flash of a knife blade right before he lunged forward.

You crashed through the heavy fire door and stumbled into the fourth floor corridor, barely managing to stay upright on your cut-up feet. “BUCKY!!!” You screamed with all the breath in your lungs and started to run, calling upon adrenaline and whatever strength could be summoned from your depleted reserves. “BU---”

Your head snapped back as a fist closed around a chunk of your hair and yanked so roughly, spots exploded in your vision. A thick arm wrapped tightly around your neck, shutting off your screams, and as it squeezed, threatened your oxygen as well. A wiry beard scratched against your cheek as an angry hiss filled your ear.

“Fuck the cause! Fuck all of it, man! I ain’t dying for this, not today, and you're going to make sure of that.” The cold point of the knife pressed into the side of your belly. “So you do exactly as I tell you. ‘Cause if I go down, you'll bleed out with me, understand?”

As the gunman started to drag you along, in the direction of the nearby service elevator, a burst of rage ignited in you, triggering instincts that had been drilled into you by the diligently protective men in your family. Who always taught you to never take this kind of shit. And this coward, you realized, was banking on his knife because he knew he wasn’t that much bigger than you.

You dropped your weight and planted your feet hard on the ground. Shoving your hands into the small gap between his forearm and your neck, you yanked down on his hold and pivoted away from his chest. Bellowing as you slid free, he slashed at you widely with his knife, throwing himself off balance. You lurched aside before rebounding at him, seizing the shoulders of his vest and raising your leg to ram your knee into his face.

He recoiled and threw his hands over his nose, howling, but in the next second he charged blindly. You turned and ran, but made progress only a few yards before a weight plowed into the back of your legs. You crashed down, barely bracing yourself for the facedown impact, your chin connecting with the carpet and rattling your brain.

Still, you thrashed around and clawed with your hands and kicked and screamed. The gunman crawled on top of you and raised his fist over your head…and went flying far across the floor. He smashed into a row of cubicles with such force, the partition walls broke completely and buried him from view.

You might have blacked out for a second, maybe more, but the next thing your eyes beheld when they reopened was Bucky's face. The next thing you felt, his hand bearing down hard on the left side of your abdomen.

“What…” you mumbled, or at least tried to. Your throat was too dry, and you tasted blood, and you were just so tired and numb, except for the burning spot that Bucky was applying pressure to. The look in his eyes explained the rest.

“I'm here.” His metal palm felt smooth against your cheek. Cold fingers traced lines along the base of your neck, keeping you from slipping into unconsciousness. “Stay with me. Stay with me.”

“What’s…” You wriggled against the weight of his hand, and clutched at his arm in a reflexive need to pull yourself up. “I’m…” He pressed you back down and in place, shaking his head vigorously.

“No, no, no, not here. Not like this.” From his grimace sang an anguish you’d never seen before, that you didn’t think he was even capable of feeling. “I just need a chance. I won’t waste it again, not another second. I swear.” He leaned down close enough to touch his forehead against yours. His whisper was a plea against your skin. “I just…I need another chance.”

You reached up and touched your fumbling fingers against his jaw. “All the chances you want,” you whispered back.

Bucky wrapped his hand tight around yours and held on. He would not let go. Not when the emergency responders arrived and converged around you and he lifted you onto the gurney himself. Not when he climbed into the back of the ambulance that would take you to the hospital.

When the time finally came for you to be wheeled away to an area he couldn’t enter, the promise he made to you without words was already clear: as long as you agreed to stay, he would never again let you go.

Want more Bucky? SotWK's MCU Masterlist

#bucky barnes #winter soldier #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fanfic #mcu fanfic #non-tolkien fic #mcu

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vanillarosekiss · 12 hours ago

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preacher’s daughter!reader x simon riley 📻

part i | part ii | part iii

warnings: is this kind of long? yes i'm sorry but deal with it :b this is an introduction to a new series and !reader that i'm creating for simon... PART TWO WILL CONTAIN SMUT!

(ps. i'm an english student and i love descriptive writing, so am practicing rn! )

The air in the bayou was thick and hot, clinging to your skin, heavy with the scent of cypress and dampening wood. The house you and your father lived in near by, if it could still be considered a house, stood towards the edge of the water, it's bones old and creaking. The porch slumped slightly from the weight of old memories you'd once made in this house, now loosing it's life to the piling dust and neglect.

Whispering themselves into the cracks of creaking wood, secrets of a sheltered life hid themselves deep in the core of the house, suffocated by prayers. As night fell, the smell of rain permeated your bedroom, window open and ushering in as much cool air as possible to calm down the scorching heat accumulated throughout the day. You could hear the porch creak with weight, and the soft squeak of the front door opening, your father welcoming someone in with his low, measured voice.

It was late, and you wore your little white nightgown, just resting at the middle of your thighs, embroidered with a pretty lace pattern. Barefoot against the warped and groaning boards, you walked across your room and leant your head against the cool door, eager to listen to a conversation that wasn't any of your business.

You heard your father, a preacher for the small town you lived in, exchanging words to a stranger who seemed to have a deep and enthralling voice. It excited you, knowing that there was someone else in your house other than the man who had brought you up all these years, teaching you to stay put in the little town and not talk to anyone, let alone strangers. But now, this strange man had entered your home, blessed by your own father's prayers, for what? And so late at night?

After a short while, you heard who you thought was the stranger leave, and close the porch door behind him before getting in his truck and driving off. Apart from the fact that it was your father's truck, and it seemed to be him that was driving it...?

Not a second later, you heard a gentle knock on your bedroom door, before it opened and you saw the man he was talking to. A handsome man, who looked to be in his mid-thirties; he was fresh from a laborious job no doubt, considering his dirtied clothing and harsh boots. The cherry of his cigarette flared brightly before he put it out on the wooden floor, squashing it with his shoe. He watched you with a quiet and unreadable gaze for a moment, dragging over you like he could peel back the layer of skin surrounding you and see what you truly were.

You weren't sure what he was doing here, or what he was looking for.

"Name's Simon" he said plainly, shutting the door with his boot as he walked further into your room.

You daren't say a word, waiting for what he would say next.

"M'not gonna hurt you, precious little thing - you don't gotta be scared"

"Why are you- what are you doing?" you inquired, confused spread across your face.

"I take it your daddy didn't tell you, then?" his voice dropped an octave lower.

"Tell me? Tell me what?"

He saw you as who you were, soft in ways he didn't know how to hold, as pure as you could get. You were untouched, an angel sent to the wrong place.

You swallowed thickly as he came over, hands toying with the hem of your nightgown. You could sense the devil in his eyes, and in his brooding presence there came about a feeling of danger.

Despite this, and God help you, you wanted him to touch you. To take you as his own.

I am so painfully aware this is not going to get any notes but just get ready for part two, trust me...

Tag list 𖠋: @punkkture @slut-lmao @sebastianstans-slut @ilikeoldmen @g1rlfa1lure0 @queenoflaflames @tmartin0918 @kkloubee @goldie-221 @patricksoulmate @writingandsins @mxnee777 @siphon07 @figthoughts @mlthree @decaffeinateddelusionbread

#babylove #simon riley #tf 141 #ghost cod #simon ghost riley #preachers daughter #daughter #southern gothic #southern goth aesthetic #southern americana #rural gothic #ethel cain aesthetic #⋆˙⟡ 🍰

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skzthelomlhehe · 1 day ago

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Telling Changbin you want a baby~

And guess who's back agaaaaaiiiinnnnn!! Yup that's meeeeeee hahahahaha I just got heartbroken 😃 so I write smut!!! Why cry over men when I can dream about skz amirite? So hiya! Back to this lmaooo

Author from future: I'm still heartbroken while I finished this. And I'm still day dreaming about getting headlocked by changbin. (Live, laugh, love changbin 💪)

Warning: mentions of pregnancy, p in v, unprotective sex, Oral (f receiving), mentions of bruising {apologies if I missed anything.}

Changbin x F!reader // established relationships // MDNI

Masterlist Total masterlist Tag Reqs:@bluesungology @diabolicalkitkat @capricorn-girl0112 @daysofskz-ateez @neginktn

This is gonna be such a drabble omg

Smut under cut // Minors Do Not Interact

Changbin has been out for a few weeks now. Back to back business trips, work projects, a few side hustles. He wanted nothing more than to see the love of his life after all this hassle. He came back home, his phone brightened up. A picture of you and him proudly shining on his lock screen. The time was 11:07 pm.

He gently unlocked the door wanting to surprise you. Upon reaching further into the house, his face melted in an adoring smile. His heart swelling at the sight of you laying on the couch sleeping peacefully. Your chest heaving up and down in slow rhythms.

He placed his bag down as slowly as he could. His face practically the pleading emoji. He crouched down, tugging a few strands of your hair behind your ear before placing a soft peck on your forehead.

"Mm..." You groaned, awakening from your slumber. Your eyes fell on the beautiful man beside you and your face lit up immediately. "Hey binnie..." you giggled, seeing his peculiar expression. "Hello, bun. Did I wake you up?" He whispered. You shook your head, still smiling like a child. "Not at all! I do hope our baby didn't wake u-" you looked down to your belly, panic setting in.

"wa-wait! Where's my baby??" You jolted up, changbin looking at you with utter confusion. You held on to changbin, panic and desperation painting all your face. "B-binnie where.... Where's our baby???" You cried out. Tears started streaming down your face.

Changbin held on to your face, cupping your cheeks gently. "Babe! Calm down!" Concerned, he pulled you in to a tight hug, "calm down, love. What baby are you even talking about?" Having being pulled into that embrace, you finally calmed down. Reality settling in. It was all just a dream.

You let go, looking into his eyes still sniffling, "I... I had a dream where... We... We had a baby... So I was scared I lost my little one... Sorry if I scared you, binnie..." You looked down. Cheeks flushed red. You were so embarrassed.

Don't know how you expected him to react, but what you didn't expect was that Changbin would be cackling at your actions. He pulled you in to a hug again, placing soft kisses all over your face. "Honeeyyy~ you're so adorable!!" He squealed. You buried your face in his firm chest, groaning, "no I'm not." You mumbled. You peeked up from his chest, your eyes sparkling, "Can... Can you make a baby with me?" your lips puckered up in a pout, eyes pleading like a child asking for candy. Changbin chuckled, gently kissing your lips.

"If my lovely wife wants it, who am I to say no?" He picked you up, making you wrap your legs around him as he carried you to your bedroom. (Again, I have a strange obsession with carrying to the bed and I will NEVER stop writing about it.) He let you down softly, placing gentle loving kisses on your neck. You tilted your head to let him get more skin to kiss. He looked up at you, taking your hands in his and kissing the knuckles of your hand. "You're sure about this, right?" He asked, his eyes sparkling with a loving gaze.

You lifted your head to kiss his forehead, a pretty smile curling your lips, "of course, love. It's your child that'll be inside me... That's such a wonderful thing!" You giggled. He gave you another soft peck on your lips before getting up and throwing his shirt off.

You shuddered at the view, your left hand running down his well built torso. "Love the view, don't you?" He placed his hand on yours. "I'd be crazy not to... There's no way I'll never worship you." "Same goes for me." He bent down, kissing your collar bone, sliding his hand under your velvety pajama shirt.

you whimpered under his touch, your fingers threading in his hair as he unbuttoned your shirt, not leaving a single inch of your skin unkissed. Your skin burned wherever his lips met, heart thumped. It suddenly felt like this was your first time having sex even though you've had it countless times.

The very thought of being able to carry his baby made you even more eager. You flinched as you felt him kiss your lower abdome while pulling your pants down. "B-binniiee..." You whined. "Yes, honey?" His voice was deep and heavy, his lips busy kissing your thighs. Your core was now for show to him.

You mewled at him licking your clit, your desperate pussy throbbing for more. He chuckled, his voice rolling in that perfect wave. You could feel your ears burning. (Me rn) He gave you a couple more licks, teasing you knowing damn well how on edge you get because of it. "Binnie..!" You whined again, a bit louder this time. "Hehe sorry babyyy~" he laughed.

He let himself delve deep into your cunt. Licking, biting and absolutely devouring you. You let out a breathy moan as he covered the entirety of your folds with his mouth. It was warm already but now you felt like it was gonna melt.

He didn't even need to use his fingers. All he needed was his mouth. Penetrating your hole with his tongue and sucking you up. You could tell he was pussy drunk by the sloppy licks and bites. You pushed his head in knowing how much he likes it when you do that. He let out a pretty highpitched whine. (sorta like the last clip here lol just watch the video, get a good laugh, come back and get horny again lmao) it was a sign he liked it.

You found your climax nearing. You tried closing your legs around him only to be forced open by those sexy arms (i shit you not I started day dreaming) you couldn't hold it in. The stimulation was too much. He was way too good.

Before you knew it, you let loose all over him. Your body stiffening as you came and soon relaxed into a putty. Your chest heaved up and down as you struggled to catch your breath.

He got up, your essence dripping down his chin. Wiping himself clean, he used the remaining wetness as a lubricant. Slipping down his pants, his cock sprung out. He rubbed his length as he leaned down to kiss you. Tasting yourself on your tongue was something you considered would be disgusting before but after you got a taste of changbin? You would drink poison from this man's hands. He slowly rubbed the tip of his member on your entrace, looking at you with curious eyes one last time.

You nodded softly before pulling him into a kiss again. That was the approval he needed. Without another second wasted, he dived in. The stretch of your hole delicious. You moaned out, your nails digging into his back making him groan. "So tight... So pretty... Just for me..." He whispered in your ear, peppering you with soft kisses as he moved.

You wrapped your legs around him, eyes shut, back arched, head thrown back from the sensation. He bit your collarbone, then your breast, down to your tummy, leaving beautiful bite marks and hickeys.

He looked up at you, awe and love overflowing from his gaze. "You're so beautiful, bunny." He mumbled, making you blush harder. "St-stop.." you protested. Barely having the strength to form words further than that.

He chuckled at the sight, loving every moan, every touch, every protest and struggle. And he knew you loved it too. He got up, holding your hips and pulling you close, making you squeak. You could've sworn the way he held you would bruise you. And yet, amidst all that, there was tenderness. There was love. You didn't care if you had marks or bruises. You knew, in the end of the day, he loved you. And he would never hurt you.

You felt yourself coming close again. And the way changbin had his eyes shut and the way he groaned, it was clear he was too. Your hands that were clenching on the sheets now made their way to your lover. "B-binnie... M'gonna... Gonna cum..." You mustered up the strength to warn him.

"just a little longer, bunny. Im close too..." He groaned. A few more thrusts in, he was close. So very close. And so were you. "Go ahead, bun. Cum with me. Let's let loose together, yeah?" He huffed, leaning down again, pulling you into an embrace as both of you came undone. He painted your walls white while you held onto him tightly.

He fell limp on you, his weight ever so comforting. Both of you panting from the stimulation. He flopped down on the bed next to you. His member still inside making sure to seal his cum inside you.

You melted in his comfortable arms as he spooned you, snuggling closer to him. His arms were wrapped around your belly. You rubbed the back of his hand, a soft smile curving your lips. "Do you think I'll be a good mother?" You asked softly. "The best mom to ever exist." He nuzzled into your neck. "I hope I can be as good of a mom as yours." You chuckled. "And I'll make sure our little one will love you just as much as I love my mom if not more."

Both of you shared a laugh before finding solace in each other's embrace. Soon drifting off to sleep before you could realise.

{Fin}

Im writing this during my hiatus cuz I've been stressed out and needed some comforting smut Lolol hope you guys liked it! (Back to hiatus I go!)

Note: to get tagged, interact with this post.

#stray kids #skz #skz imagines #skz hard thoughts #skz smut #stray kids smut #changbin skz #changbin x y/n #changbin smut #changbin stray kids #seo changbin #changbin

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nyxelestia · 3 hours ago

Text

I have an addition to this but that will require some addendums / additional points.

This got a lil long so I threw the rest under the cut but tl;dr

The interrelation and complexity of marginalized identities irl makes authors' usage of them as protective labels on content counterproductive and discourages community and empathy.

Either don't mention your identity, or at most save it for the author's note instead of the tag when it's a contribution instead of a protection.

We don't need to hide what parts of ourselves inform our writing, but we do need to avoid normalizing the sharing of personal information to justify writing choices.

Too Long But Reading Anyway:

I know the degradation of privacy is getting normalized everywhere else on the Internet, but that sounds like all the more reason to avoid dragging that new norm into fandom.

A lot of this comes from the fear of making mistakes in public. After all, many fans (especially young one) grew up with the hyper-awareness that damn near their entire lives -- or at least their entire lives since entering social media -- would be documented and therefore could be dragged up from the depths of the past and used against you. People are trying to achieve "perfection" not for a sense of superiority, but a sense of safety; "if I do everything right, no one can call me out." I'm telling you right now, bullies don't work that way. They'll find a way to twist anything and everything into harassment campaigns. It is much better to be willing to write outside your lived experiences, to learn and grow, to own up to any mistakes you do make, and be ready to tell anyone who tries to castigate you for mistakes you didn't make to go screw themselves.

A lot of these identities are fluid. Maybe you're still trying to figure out your sexuality or gender, maybe you'll convert religions, maybe you'll discover something new about your heritage, maybe you will be able to treat your disability such that you won't have it in the future, etc. The fact that your identity might change in the future doesn't change your past, so it doesn't affect why you are putting that label for yourself on a fic…but, it does mean that if some bully wants to cause you trouble, they can absolutely turn around and use this against you. Just throwing this out there as a follow-up to both the first and the second points.

Being close to or part of a marginalized group doesn't give you carte blanch to write whatever you want. You can absolutely be part of a marginalized group and also perpetuate stereotypes or problematic tropes. (e.x. Transformative fandom is heavily dominated by women, yet so much of the het fanfiction is also saturated with sexist or downright misogynistic tropes. Obviously, being part of the marginalized identity group didn't help anyone writing that marginalized identity group. This is just the most prolific example but hardly the only one.) And that's if your own marginalization really matches the character's to begin with. Some axes of marginalization are incredibly vast (ethnic experiences and disabilities come to mind) and encompass a wide variety of identities, so being part of one doesn't give you magical insight into all the rest.

I feel like this also ignores the way identities and marginalization experiences intersect with each other. If we're so focused on labels for one identity, we end up discarding the others. This applies even when thinking about fictional characters in completely fictional settings. Most of these settings will, to varying degrees, reflect our real world. By using an identity label for only one aspect of a character's in-universe identity that happens to reflect a real world identity, what does this about all their other in-universe identities that reflect real world identities?

Circling all the way back to OP's point (sorry for the hijacking!):

Fandom is made up of communities. That doesn't sound like much on the surface when everyone uses that as a buzzword, but what I mean is that fandom isn't an institution or object that exists without people participating in it. Fandom is the participation, fandom is the interaction, fandom is the mutual connections fans build with each other. The 'mutual' there is important; a lot of social media makes it very easy for people to feel like they are friends with someone, when that other person barely knows them or doesn't know them at all. (The word is "parasocial relationships" if you wanna learn more.)

The "Author Is X" tag is about the author as an individual. Sharing facets of yourself as an individual isn't an inherently bad thing. Sometimes, we're proud of that and want to share that; or our specific experience is relevant to the specific story we're telling; or we want to make others with the same identity who feel alone know that they can reach out to us. These are all ways that sharing part of your identity with your audience can build a community. (Hell, even just writing out this long ramble right now, I find myself debating whether or not I should mention my own ethnic heritage on the fanfic where my heritage is influencing the way I'm worldbuilding.)

But using it as a justification or as a defensive measure is inherently contradictory to the spirit of community and the pursuit of empathy. It's implying that an individual author is supposed to be on their own and only relying on their knowledge and experience to write something; or that the author who already wrote something had no input from people around them. Quite frankly, that's never true. It's extremely rare for someone to just start writing fanfic without some semblance of community, even if it's literally just the single fandom friend. (Never mind the fact that fanfic by default always has at least two creators, the author of the fic and whoever made the canon thing that the fanfic is about.)

When we ask each other how our various experiences affect our lives, that is a connection we are building. When we ask multiple friends for their various inputs, for the different ways they experienced the same marginalization as their identity, for the ways a marginalized identity might have impacted their lives (even if that identity wasn't their own), all of that is building connections and thus building a community. These are threads of empathy fans build with each other.

And we should be doing more of that.

One trend on ao3 that I feel uneasy about is the increased use of “author is trans” “author is disabled” “author is ace” etc tags.

On the one hand I can understand how it can feel like a reassuring sign for readers who are trans/disabled/ace etc that their lives are less likely to be misrepresented in that fic because the writer has lived experience.

But at the same time, when we’re writing fanfiction—about kids who can manipulate the force of the waves, about necromancy, about flying on dragons—I think the suggestion that you need to have lived experience to write sensitively about something is so limiting.

Like if we aren’t exercising the full force of our imaginations and empathy in fanfiction, where exactly are we doing it?

It also makes me sad because sometimes you can tell from the nervousness of the author’s note that the writer felt they had to justify their writing with their lived experience. And I don’t think you should feel ethically obligated to gesture toward personal and often painful aspects of your identity to justify writing you do in your spare time that makes you happy.

Some of the best fics I’ve read about disability have been written by authors that didn’t have experience with that exact condition and did heartfelt research and really let themselves inhabit it. And I think that’s a bravura display of empathy and the very best that fiction can offer: caring about a character enough, and caring about your readers enough, that you want to understand what it’s like.

Sometimes friends have asked me about my visual disability to better understand Zuko for their stories, and I’ve always found it really moving. It means they care so much about the fictional world that they want to get the real world right too. It means they’re learning and growing so they can make stories about disability.

It means they love the show, and it means they love me.

#on fandom #nyxie rambled #nyxie talks too much #marginalization

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punkrockmlchael · 9 hours ago

Note

Sorry I didn't say this earlier, but congrats on 100 followers! How about Eddie beer + alcohol + pool?

Masterlist for 100 Follower Celebration!

Mandi! Thank you so much for the request, and for reading my work and supporting my little hobby ahh! So sorry for the delay with this, I was working on some other fics but I'm back to these requests to get them done! (Word Count: 367)

Prompts: Alcohol, Beer and Pool ; Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

"Hey, want a beer?" Eddie asked, walking towards you with a cheeky grin. You sipped your rum and coke and looked at him, shaking your head.

"Gross," you muttered, making a face. "No, I'll stick to this." You added, motioning towards the cup in your hand.

"Ah, what's wrong princess? Can't handle beer?" Eddie laughed, taking a spot next to you in one of the lawn chairs.

"Beer is disgusting," you replied, leaning back in the lawn chair to work on your tan.

"Beer is so totally not disgusting." Eddie argued, moving closer to you.

You set your cup on a little table next to you and looked up at Eddie, raising and eyebrow. "It's so gross. It tastes like ass, you know how much I hate it."

"Oh, is that so?" Eddie asked, cracking open his can of beer. He took a big gulp and set his beer can down next to your cup before he stood up and laid on top of you in your lawn chair.

"Eddie, get off," you mumbled, looking up at him. He smirked at you, shaking his head.

"Nah," he mumbled, leaning in to place a kiss on your lips.

"Eddie," you whined against his lips, trying to pull away. "You taste like beer!"

"Mhm, and you taste so sweet, come on, princess." He smiled, kissing you again.

You sighed, wrapping your arms around his body as you kissed him back. He smiled into the kiss, hands moving down your half naked body, caressing all your curves in your swimsuit.

You pulled away slightly and looked up at him with a smile. "Eddie, we are at Gareth's house," you remind him. "And, all the guys are watching us." You added, motioning towards the guys in the pool that had their views on you two now.

Eddie glanced back at the Hellfire boys and winked before looking back at you. "Well, then, let's give them a show." He smiled, leaning in to kiss you again.

"Get it, Eddie!" Dustin called from the pool before Gareth hit him in the arm. "Ow!" Dustin complained, rubbing his arm.

"Shut up." Gareth mumbled. "Don't encourage him to get it on in my backyard, please."

eddie tag list: wanna be added? comment + let me know! @keeryhours ; @the-witty-pen-name ; @swiftieintheupsidedown ; @hawkinsmafia ; @pupwrites ; @clown420cunt ; @exploding-bonbon ; @borhapparker ; @corrodedcorpses

#stranger things #punkrockmlchael #punkrockmlchael 100 follower celebration #eddie stranger things #eddie munson #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson stranger things #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fic #eddie munson blurb #eddie x reader #eddie x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #beer #pool #alcohol

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lumine-inkedfanfics · 2 days ago

Text

𝓒𝓪𝓵𝓮𝓫: 𝓣𝓸 𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓢𝓽𝓪𝓻𝓼

˖ ݁𖥔.☁︎.𖥔 ݁ ˖˖ ݁𖥔.☁︎.𖥔 ݁ ˖˖ ݁𖥔.☁︎.𖥔 ݁ ˖

Tw: MC death. Character death. Spoilers.

Word count: 530 words.

Upload date: 4th February, 2025.

˖ ݁𖥔.☁︎.𖥔 ݁ ˖˖ ݁𖥔.☁︎.𖥔 ݁ ˖˖ ݁𖥔.☁︎.𖥔 ݁ ˖

"Caleb!!"

Your voice lingers like a song, but only in my memories.

"Caleb, look! They are fighter jets! Will we also go on those one day?"

Yet now you aren't here with me to fly through the skies we once thought was unreachable.

"Caleb a little higher! I'm almost there!"

I remember those times, when I'd use my evol to make you fly and pluck those crispy and juicy apples i love....you love.

"Caleb, Caleb, Caleb"

Nightmares are the only memories of us. I wish they were the happier ones, but it's fine....if this is the only memories of you, then I'll welcome this pain with open arms.

You were like the sun, and I the sunflower always seeking your warmth. Yet now I'm a dead sunflower. Where is my sun?

Don't leave me, what am I without you? I don't want to be your moon. Please let me be your sky in which you light up the world. Always together and interdependent.

"Caleb, this is for you."

The dog tag u gave me is now a noose around my neck. Constricting and choking the life out of me.

"My dream is to leave here and live in the stars."

You didn't need to go alone to the stars. You could have taken your Caleb with you. I could have built you anything your heart desires. Don't leave me here alone. I lived only for you.

I am now but a shell of a human. The memories of you vanishing day by day. The chip eating away the last remains of you. Soon I'll join you. My pip-squeak.

Will you hate me?

For not protecting you or for breaking your hopes and coming to meet you sooner in the stars?

But it doesn't matter if it means I get to be with you. We can ride the clouds and explore universes as long as you are next to me.

"Caleb! Close your eyes."

I see images of you when I close my eyes. Wished every star to open my eyes and see you.

Now I bring not 2 but 3 bouquets of flowers to the Linkon graveyard. One for gran, one for me, and one for you pip-squeak.

I can imagine how you must have felt. Please don't play games. Come back to arms. It's enough. You got me back. I'm sorry for leaving you. PLEASE! Please don't do it to me. I'm sorry.

"Caleb make me braised chicken wings."

What once I learned for you is now a useless skill. I can't cook for you anymore? I can make anything you want! Anything you desire! I'll learn any cuisine for you. But please come back to me. Come back into my arms.

You don't have permission to leave me! How dare you leave me here all alone in this retched world.

If you didn't come, I always came to you.

This time too it won't be different. Soon, the pain of loneliness will take me to you.

As I start my plane, I smile.

Soon I'll be there. My beloved pip-squeak. Sunshine. My one and only.

News reports suggest that Colonel Caleb of the Farspace Fleet died in a plane crash.

˖ ݁𖥔.☁︎.𖥔 ݁ ˖˖ ݁𖥔.☁︎.𖥔 ݁ ˖˖ ݁𖥔.☁︎.𖥔 ݁ ˖

A/n: I wanted to cry. So I wrote it. Like, comment and reblog. Love and deepspace gc on insta. Links on my Instagram. Love you all.

˖ ݁𖥔.☁︎.𖥔 ݁ ˖˖ ݁𖥔.☁︎.𖥔 ݁ ˖˖ ݁𖥔.☁︎.𖥔 ݁ ˖

#female reader #love and deepspace #love and deepspace caleb #lnds caleb #lads caleb #caleb angst #fanfic #lads #lnds #caleb #caleb x mc #caleb x reader

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saturnzskyzz · 2 days ago

Text

Like a Mother would.

Summary: After the Mingle game, Hyung-ju is extremely dealing with the lost of what was once her friend, now deceased by this squid game. Geum-ja sees this and almost instantly cheers her up.

Warning: angst, self doubt, dysphoria??, tickling, and yeh! That's about it! (Not really a warning, but I'm wanting y'all to know that I think the ship Geong-seok and Hyun-ju is a really cute ship, so this fic heavily implies that. Thank you for listening to this short talk🫡) another thing to know (no, we don't know Hyun-ju's family, and no, I'm not implicating that her family was nonsupportive of her transition. This is just a second family type bond!!)

A/N: I'd like to tag @letupabit because I let them see this idea before doing this fic, cause AAAHH Geum-ja heals my mommy issues, and the players deserves cheer up tickles. EAT THIS UP GANG!

| ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ ᴍᴀʏ ᴏʀ ᴍᴀʏ ɴᴏᴛ ʙᴇ ᴀ ᴅᴇᴀᴅ ᴘᴏᴇᴛs sᴏᴄɪᴇᴛʏ ᴇᴀsᴛᴇʀ ᴇɢɢ ɪɴ ᴛʜɪs.. ɪᴛ's ɴᴏᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴇxᴀᴄᴛ ǫᴜᴏᴛᴇ, ʙᴜᴛ ɪᴛ's sᴛɪʟʟ ᴀɴ ᴇᴀsᴛᴇʀ ᴇɢɢ ғᴏʀ ᴀʟʟ ᴛʜᴏsᴇ ᴅᴘs ғᴀɴs!! :ᴅ |

(Happy late tickle day! :] I meant to post this on the 31st, but I made this kinda long in the making 😅

Squid game divider

Incredible losses had their unfortunate fate as the players had to play the cruel, agonizing game of Mingle. They were glad that they were finished, but the loss of many didn't cover their comfort for the rest of that evening. Including Hyun-ju.

She lost Young-mi to those sick fucks all because others had pushed her to the ground to get to a stupid door. Oh how she wanted to bash player 333's head into the wall closest to him at that very moment. But she resisted. Dammit, she resisted.

All the players walked out of the arena, and back into their resting area's, or large dormitory as others would assume. With Hyun-ju's adopted group at their designated hang-out spot, she quietly sat in her's, eyeing Young-mi's usual place. Young-mi.. What a kind soul she was?

Hyun-ju thought she couldn't take the burden of loosing her. She was brave. Really brave. Well, it was no lie that she was scared- they were both scared. But with Hyun-ju, standing next to Young-mi, she felt as if she could have Conquered anything when by her side. Now that she's gone..? She felt terrified. Oh Young-mi? What a person she could've been?

Geum-ja felt the sorrow in Hyun-ju's heart. She felt everyone's, actually. The loss of someone who you were destined to stick with till the very end was very familiar for her. That's how she felt with her son. So seeing Hyun-ju sit there in her own melancholy was devastating for Geum-ja. Oh this won't do.

She got up to sit next to the poor girl, and looked at her with gentle eyes, slowly placing a hand onto Hyun-ju's, causing the taller one to look at her with the most saddening of eyes. This broke the mother's heart.

"She was a kind young woman, hun." Geum-ja said soothingly, like a mother, Hyun-ju had quickly thought.

The young woman only nodded, looking back at Young-mi's spot. Growing sadder by the second.

Geum-ja felt so sorry for her. As a mother, she wanted to do everything in her power to just hold her in her palms and to protect her from anything cruel and inhumane if she could. But she knew she couldn't. No metaphor could save the broken souls in this place. Not even Geum-ja.

"How about.. I cheer you up, yeah?" Geum-ja said suddenly, catching Hyun-ju's attention. She now stared at the mother, contemplating the idea of possibly being cheered up be someone who she has only met for three days; but it felt like an eternity that they've been in this fucked up place with nothing but themselves to give comfort. If there is any of that now to help with their sanity of getting out of there.

"I do this a lot with Yong-sik, or eh.. My son! Aha.. You don't have to feel pressured by it, it's your choice dear." Geum-ja reassured the best that she could, hoping that she could help at all for poor Hyun-ju. Anything!

Pondering the idea a bit more, Hyun-ju finally answered in a low and tired tone, yet sweet and kind at the same time. "I.. Wouldn't mind the concept of how you could help. Thank you." With a small, reassuring smile, she turned to face Geum-ja to give her full attention.

Geum-ja smiled at that. Relieved that she could help, she repositioned herself, but not too fast as to possibly startle the woman. "If you ever get uncomfortable, please don't hesitate to stop me at any time, alright?" She said thoroughly to make sure that Hyun-ju has free will. She wants to make her as comfortable as possible after all.

Hyun-ju only nodded that time, kind of confused as to what the mother was talking about, but didn't protest nonetheless. She kind of wanted to know what she had up her sleeve to try and lift up her spirits. If that was even possible in a place like this?

"Could you turn around for me?" Geum-ja calmly said, never once wiping that reassuring smile off her face. Hyun-ju complied, now her back facing Geum-ja.

This grabbed Yong-sik's attention and immediately averted his gaze, knowing what was to come. It's been such a long time since he's received something like that, he almost forgot about the generous offer. Of course, he wasn't feeling jealous of the act, he knew he loved when his mom did that with him. It brought a sense of security and comfort, as well as a closer bond with his mother, so seeing her repeat the offer with someone else who is mourning the loss of their friend, he grew a smile on his face to see his mom always wanting to sooth others from their worries.

Once Geum-ja knew that Hyun-ju was comfortable enough in her spot-deciding to lean on the closest pole of one of the bed frames to her-that's when she got to work. Carefully, and lightly, she began to trace along her back in a repetitive motion.

Unsurprisingly, it was immediately effective. It soothed Hyun-ju almost instantly! the feeling was unexpected at first, but the repetitive back and forth helped her get used to it fairly quickly.

Geum-ja saw the girl in front of her lower her head in satisfaction. Hearing a comfortable sigh, she smiled to herself, thanking that the method was working at least a little bit in Hyun-ju's favor. The mother was still unsure if it was actually working for her or not with the jacket in the way. Oh, This won't do.

"D-do you mind taking off your jacket? I'm unsure if this is really working in your favor if you had the thick layer on." Geum-ja asked respectfully. Hyun-ju understood her question, and agreed to take the jacket off. In one swift motion, she took the jacket and placed it on her lap, allowing Geum-ja to continue her tracing on the now thin layer of the shirt that her and all the other players were put in.

"Thank you, dear." Geum-ja said sweetly, continuing her tracing from before.

The feeling was the same, yet it had a more effective feeling than before because of the jacket. Hyun-ju had noticed this quickly, but it was soothing to feel yet again. Laying against the pole again, she sighed comfortably.

"I just..? I want to thank you. You hardly know me, yet you want to comfort me.." Hyun-ju quietly said, just enough for her to hear.

Geum-ja smiled at that. "Well,, I'm a mother. Mother's attend to whoever is feeling down just to help them get back on their feet, dear." She answered, deciding to use the same up and down motion on her spine, revealing a sharp gasp from the younger. Geum-ja quickly retreated her hand.

"Oh my, are you alright? I'm so sorry, I should've asked if you had any injuries before hand-" she was briefly stopped with a patient hand, as Hyun-ju turned to face her.

"N-no, it's alright! I'm fine. You can continue if you want, I'm just.. A bit sensitive on my spine is all." Hyun-ju admitted kind of quietly. The light blush on her features seemed to make way due to her embarrassment. Geum-ja's worried face turned into a small smile at the discovery.

"Oh? Well, if you want me to continue! I appreciate the reassurance." she gave a few small pats on Hyun-ju's shoulder before continuing. She decided to trace her spine again, but carefully this time. She noticed instantly that hyun-ju was trying to keep her giggles from spurring out.

The woman had a small smile that she couldn't seem to hide away, resulting with her lowering her head down, closest to the pole she was leaning up against.

Geum-ja noticed that each time she'd trace up, her body would arch away from her fingertips, but when she traced down, she'd move back to her normal position just before she'll arch again, but would fight against the instinctive reaction each time. Geum-ja found that quite interesting.

Deciding to enlighten a few giggles out of her, she quickly analyzed where it would tickle most on her spine, and decided to trace her fingers on that spot more than the rest. Almost instantly, she made Hyun-ju melt into a puddle of her own giggles.

They were quick, quiet and breathy. A giggle that Geum-ja never thought she could muster out of her mouth, but they were endearing, and reassuring to hear.

She looked for any uncomfortable movement to cause her to stop her onslaught, but she didn't get anything like that. Hyun-ju just kept close to the pole as a way of leverage, and a sort of grounding, and kept releasing her beautiful sounding giggles.

"I take it that you like this?" Geum-ja broke the nonspeaking silence, causing Hyun-ju to blush a little out of embarrassment.

"Ihihi'm sohohorry.." She apologized quickly, thinking that maybe she's not deserving of such kindful acts.

"Oh this won't do. Hun, you can laugh your heart out! We kind of need to in a place like this to distract ourselves, right?" Geum-ja demonstrated her words by moving her hands closer to Hyun-ju's sides, making her jolt in surprise with a squeal, making her quickly cover her mouth to stop any further ones from coming out.

This caught the attention of Yong-sik and Geong-seok. Yong-sik already knew what was happening, so he turned his head away once again with a smile, and Geong-seok kind of just stared at them, or more so at Hyun-ju. He saw her crumbling into pieces just by Geum-ja's light touch, and it brought a blush of his own. How sweet she sounded, and carefree she was finally letting go? How she was trying, but also not really, to hide her smile? The way that he could just see a glimpse of her features? it adored him. She looked so beautiful. The smile that was creeping up on him was present.

"See? It's okay to laugh. I know you need it anyways, dear!" She said happily, enlightening more giggles to come out of the woman.

Although Hyun-ju was glad she could let loose and laugh, she also felt guilty for letting it out so soon.. Even after the mingle game..

She panicked a little by her thoughts, moving a bit as her mind mad her unsure of the situation. "Ihihi- geheheum- ohohor.. Ehehaha, wait!" the sudden slip up of her name caused her to panick even more, guilty flowing through her heart.

Geum-ja stopped her assault, worried for the young woman all so sudden. "What is it dear? Are you having second thought?"

Hyun-ju was a nervous wreck. She didn't know what to conclude in her head. So, she turned her body a bit to look at the mother with apologetic, and empathetic eyes. "Well.. I-i'm not so sure if laughing right now would be best since.. I mean? It's just.." Hyun-ju was finding it hard to spill out her thoughts. She knew that Geum-ja wouldn't judge, but she held back. She looked at her with worry. How overwhelming this place could be for someone, let alone overthinking things? She felt sorry for her in the most empathetic way.

"I believe that Young-mi would have wanted you to smile, and laugh.. There's too much sorrow in this place, and I'm sure it's driving all of us crazy. If we dristact ourselves from that, it'd be better to get through all of this, yeah?" Geum-ja reassured the best that she could, bringing a hand to softly lay on the woman's knee.

"I um.. I don't know..." Hyun-ju quietly said, looking down at where the mother's hand was laying. She wanted to break free from this dreadful feeling, but the guilt that layed right on top of her heart trapped her from doing so.

"I for one want you to cheer up!" Geum-ja said suddenly, squeezing her knee now. The surprised gasp and chuckle from her shocked the both of them.

"Yohou wouldn't dahare..." Hyun-ju said carefully through suppressed giggles. Geum-ja took that as a challenge.

"As a mother, I would!" Geum-ja said with glee. She started squeezing Hyun-ju's knee repetitively now, resulting in more clear chuckles from Hyun-ju.

"AH-ahaha, hohohold ohohon!" she gripped the offending hand while continuing to lean against the pole, trying to gain an upper hand in the situation, but ultimately failed because she didn't want to accidentally hurt Geum-ja in the process. Thus, resulting with her taking it.

"Yohou seem to be hoholding on just fihine!" Geum-ja couldn't help but giggle with her. Hyun-ju's laughter was just that contagious! And someone seems to be giggling to themselves as well. (Geong-seok, just SIT with them at this point)

The genuine bond seemed to lift up Hyun-ju's spirits a little bit. With all this laughing and releasing her stress and anxieties, she almost felt like she was right at home.

She wanted to move spots, deciding that maybe her sides would be less ticklish? how wrong she was once she darted straight for them.

Hyun-ju felt the ticklish sensation electrify her entire body as she jolted back, a higher squeal coming out of her mouth, causing the woman to blush even deeper as if her face wasn't flushed enough.

"AAH- AhahaAHAaha, O-OhohommahahaAHAaha- uh- Wahahait.." Realising quickly of what she just blurted out, she tried to stop Geum-ja's hands from tickling her further, but she was one step ahead of player-120.

Geum-ja looked at her in shock, retreating her hands after she had hesitated to pull them away in the first place. As she saw the horror on Hyun-ju's face, Geum-ja was quick to bring a reassuring smile, as well as reassuring words.

"Ohoh, dear! No need to make that worried face, it's alright!" She tried to reason, noticing the shock and worry never leaving Hyun-ju's face.

She began to spew out panicked apologies. "I-I'm so sorry.. I didn't mean to call you that,, it just came naturally.." she began to fidget with her hands as she always does when things got overwhelming.

Geum-ja, returning her soft touch back to her knee, never once left the smile that shown proudly on her face. "You can call me mom if you see me as one, you know?" She said, stroking her thumb on her knee now, making sure it didn't enlighten anymore panicked giggles this time.

Hyun-ju looked at her with a confused face this time. "I.. I don't understand.." Hyun-ju said empathetically.

Geum-ja looked at her with the softest of eyes a mother could give. " Well.. There's people in our lives who we look up to as if they were family.. They may act like how an authority figure would act, it's just how our minds see it!" she explained. She never once looked away from Hyun-ju.

"Yeah.. But it's only been a few days since we've known each other, and since.. Well.. The type of place we're in? It's confusing as hell to look up to others in this place.." Hyun-ju spoke with reason, as if she would then talk down on the poor woman who was just trying to sort out her thoughts of the situation.

"Wehell.. Like I said, I'm a mother. No matter how short, or how long you've known me, I'll always think of you as my own.. Cause in this place?" she looked around then, pausing her sentence, "there's gotta be at least someone you should look up to in dire situations like this one, dear." she finished with a smile, like always.

Hyun-ju didn't know what else to say at that point. She was holding back tears by the realization that she was finally recognized as someone who isn't just trans, but as someone's own child. No hesitation. No doubts. She felt accepted. She felt like herself.

All that thought, the woman finally let the tears flow gracefully down her cheeks, letting drops fly from the side of her jawline. When Geum-ja noticed this, she didn't hesitate to pull the woman into her arms, embrasing in what felt like to Hyun-ju, a motherly hug. She allowed herself to fully cry by now. Letting it out, but still holding back on wanting to scream her feelings out.

Geum-ja soothed her by rubbing her hand on her back, like a mother would. Swaying them back and forth a little, like a mother would. Giving hyun-ju the love and care, like a mother would. She gave it all.

"T-thank you.. For this." Hyun-ju finally said after a bit of silence, never once breaking the hug.

"Like I said dear, I'm a mother." Geum-ju said, still having the sweetest smile. She looked over to Yong-sik who finally watched the scene unfold, and she grew her smile at him, letting him know that he has her as well. This caused Yong-sik to smile with her. The cure of a mother's love is so much stronger than the endurance of trying to out live this place.

"She'd be proud, dear." Geum-ja said, softly. Continueing to sway back and forth with Hyun-ju.

#squid game tickle #squid game tickles #Lee! Hyun ju #Ler! Geum ja #Tickle fic

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writinglionqueen · 3 days ago

Text

How's Your Head

It hurt.

Goddamn did it hurt.

Your head was pounding as the crew rush you backstage after receiving a nasty bump from your match. Your ears were ringing and the lights were starting to look like a kaleidoscope with every uneven step.

Of course you would receive such a bump during your match; hitting your head on one of the ring posts. It almost knocked you out but the hot feeling of blood running down your head kept you in until you got the win. But it wasn't long until the crew come down to get you out of the ring. They were quick to rush you to the medical room so they could inspect your condition there.

And not far behind you and the crew, you knew Drew was there. He had watched your match backstage like he always did. So, he had watched as you hit your head and everything. He was probably worried out of his mind for you, given the nature of the relationship you and him head. And you had faintly heard his voice through the crew's utterings of what to do when they got you to the room. You couldn't pay him any mind as one of the medical personnel looked at your head assessing if your wound needed any stitches or staples.

"Good and bad news," the medic said. "The good news is that it's not that deep or big. Bad news is that it you will need a couple staples." You gave a thumbs up to let them know you had heard and to proceed. The person was quick to numb the area, staple you up and clean what they could. "There's a good chance you have a concussion. I want you to lie down when you get to your hotel. Turn the lights out. I was gonna say that I was gonna fetch someone to take you to your hotel but I'm sure the Scotsman outside will take you, he's been outside since we started this." You nodded very slightly. Your head was still ringing.

The medic left, closing the door behind them. You closed your eyes and bowed your head, hoping the pain would die away. Maybe the medic had told you they had something for you to take when they were done but you didn't hear it and you didn't dare open your eyes to try and find it. And this was your first head injury since the start of your career. At least one that caused you to now be concussed. You wondered what you needed to do because of this. Drew would know.

The door clicked open and footsteps came into the room. It was Drew. No doubt about it.

"You ok?" he asked you as quietly as he could. He probably knew what you were feeling and new that loud sounds would only make it worse.

"Yeah," you hoarsely say.

"Looks like they left you something to take for the pain if you haven't taken anything yet," he mentioned. You gave a quick sigh of relief.

"That's good, I need it."

"How's your head?"

"Never had any complaints," your PG-13 mind was very quick to quip even with the pounding your head was feeling. Of course you wouldn't miss a beat.

Your quip had Drew chuckling.

"You know Princess, when you're up for it I'll take you up on the offer," he said to you. "But for now, let's get you to the hotel to rest up." You smiled at that.

"That sounds nice," you sigh. "This is gonna suck, isn't it?" Another chuckle sounded from Drew.

"Not as much as you will when you're no longer concussed."

You wanted to laugh. You really did but the act of smiling made your head pound worse.

"Fuuuuck," you groaned before holding your hand out. "Give me the pills first then we can go." Drew sighed.

You both could tell this was going to be a long night...and not in a fun way.

~~~

So I had a funny quip that I thought would make a good quick fic...and i ran with it. Sorry y'all that it's been a while since I've given you a real fic. Life's life haha!

Hope you like this though. If you did please don't forget to like and reblog for support. 💛🖤

Tag: @acon1120 @adriennegabriella @alination @amariemoore @andie01 @annoyingasian @ashkrystal @astolenheartnkiss @axelwolf8109 @baemcintyre @beckyann6879 @brownskinafro @calicina @calwitch @castiellawolfkissed @claymoreme @crossfitjesusinblackskinnyjeans @curlyafrogirl @daddyslittlevillain @dalia-corven @darlingambrose @dcnmarvelgamergeek @demonqueen29 @fabulousrockstar @fireyegale @fivefootxo @flawlessglamazon @fullofmelaninsarcasmandepression @gold--gucciempress @hardcoresweet45 @iceebabies @ihavenowilltolivelol @i-have-saracasm @itsicantbelievethis666 @jazzy-tzw @jeffhardyenigmawwefan @kalliravenne @ladytea19 @lemonjvicey @letsgivethisonemoreshot @lilred91

@littlesuperstars @madebypointlesswerewolves @malethirsty @midnight--luna @monocromaticstaircase @morenokatt @moxley-unhinged @mox-made-me-do-it @moxnmurphy @moxtiel @neversatisfiedgirl @new-zealand-chic @nicolewoo @nothinginlifebutgreif @number1120 @oreillystolemyheart @pandaluver96 @queenofthearchitect @retro-rezz-the-est @saint-yaint @saiyandude @sassymox @savemeroman @scuzmunkie @sebstanismylife @shortyiceheart @slytherinyourrpants @softmoxymuffin @taryn-dibiase @thatnerdwriter @thatpanpal @the-beastslayers-queen @the-darkness-never-leaves-us @thepalaceofmelanie @theworldofotps @thewrestlingwarehouse @thiccc-rider-mcintyre @trashofambrolleigns @twistedbeautifully @unprettypeony @waywardwrestlewritingwaif @welcome-to-lovecraft-country @xbreezymeadowsx @mcreigns-enthusiast @eddie-kingstons-wifey @thesithdiaries @akiko-tanaka @wwechristina87 @cherrytheeredheadmamaclaymore

#drew mcintyre #drew mcintyre x reader

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turtletaubwrites · 3 days ago

Text

Numbers Game ~ Chapter 37

The Man of Your Dreams

Pairings: Cross Guild Polycule x Shanks x Fem!Reader x ???

Numbers Game Masterlist

Word Count: 6k+

Ao3 Link

Ongoing Series Playlist: Youtube Music Link | Youtube Link

Chapter Tunes: Teenage Dream (Cover) ~ Fractures | Fake it ~ Holy White Hounds

Summary: Your favorite shipwright has earned his private date.

Ch. 36 Recap: Detailed recap is directly below the cut!

Author's Note: I was really nervous about this one, so I hope you enjoy it! Also, I hope my research on boats was adequate. I grew up by the ocean, but I like being on the cliffs watching the waves. I think I watched Titanic when I was too young, lol. Boats are scary 😅

Dark Content Warning: I haven't marked any dark content for this chapter, but this is the reader's date with Iceburg. If you are hesitant to read it, I've added a detailed summary of the chapter in the end notes.

Also, I hope everyone remembers the tag/warning: Cross Guild Boys are VILLAINS. It’s been there since day one, so 🤷‍♀️

Alternate POV Symbols:

!!! SPOILER WARNING !!! Fic currently contains spoilers for up to chapter 1064 or episode 1093. As we get further into Egghead Arc where our lovely boys are showing up more, there will be more spoilers as time goes on. Sorry y'all, I'm trying to keep most spoilers small details, but Cross Guild is endgame, lol.

Rating/Warnings: Author May Choose to Exclude some Warnings to Avoid Spoilers for Certain Chapters, Explicit Sexual Content, 18+ ONLY, MDNI, AFAB!Reader, She/Her Pronouns for Reader, Reader-Insert, Use of Y/N, Dark Content, Blood & Violence, PTSD, Panic Attacks, Dissociation, Mental Illness, Grief, Hospitals, Doctors, Mental Health Treatment, Toxic Family, Childhood Trauma, Swearing, Alcohol, Cigars, Smut, Fluff, Angst, Guilt, Drama, Jealousy, Manipulation, Pet Names, Power Imbalance, Cross Guild boys are VILLAINS, Possessive Behavior, Teasing, Threats, Relationship Drama, Inappropriate Use of Akuma no Mi | Devil Fruit Powers, Shameless Shameless Smut, Uncle Cedrick Has Become His Own Warning, Death of an Unnamed Character, Other Additional Tags to Be Added

Ch. 36 Recap:

Buggy felt guilt that he wasn't telling the truth of what reader had said to her sister, but asked Crocodile if he would believe him and leave her alone if he said she was happy.

Crocodile worried about his clown, before fighting of rage at the thought that she was happy with Iceburg.

Mihawk found a smuggling ring in Doerena, and took a break from his violent hunt for information on the feed to watch his little rabbit on the screen. He thought he saw a flash of rage in her eyes, and promised to help her "paint it red."

Shanks gained an advantage in the Hunt after speaking with the Concealer. Giberson used a jamming snail to give them privacy, and offered to tell him about his competition because Giberson wanted to bet on the winning horse. Shanks learned that Iceburg and Katakuri were his toughest competition, and struggled with the fact that Iceburg didn't have much dirt on him, and didn't seem phased by his threats.

You enjoyed your date with Ichiji, but even happier to learn that your sister seemed to be enjoying time with his sister Reiju even more. You tried not to feel hopeful, but you kept finding little moments of thinking that you might end up with a decent life. Uncle Cedrick still found ways to humiliate and torture you, but all you could think of now was the date with Mr. Iceburg. You decided that you didn't care what kind of man he was. You wanted to enjoy this.

A flashback showed reader in her father's office while he spoke to Mr. Iceburg over snail. She was flustered by the praise Iceburg shared for her, and her dad suggested that they would see him soon. Iceburg reminded Arbo to wait until storm season passed.

Yonji won the next private date.

Cracker taunted the Vinsmokes until Niji retaliated, and they were both kicked out of the Hunt. Cracker encouraged reader to choose Katakuri because he likes her, and they would protect her.

Now only Yonji is left without a private date and the only Hunters left are: Shanks, Iceburg, Katakuri, Ichiji, and Yonji.

The Man of Your Dreams

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

The golden sky cleared your mind, adding to the mystical gleam of the boat that shouldn’t exist. There were no stars yet, but the redwood trees surrounding the lake seemed like a sacred chalice, ready and waiting for the night to pour in.

“You alright, girlie?”

Your own laughter brought you back, too real, too filled with awe at the beautiful dream you’d stepped into. Time was absent until you shook yourself enough to realize that you were really here.

“She’s beautiful,” you thanked your favorite shipwright.

“You know, the best way to get to know a boat is to sail her,” Mr. Iceburg hummed as he squeezed your hand, his eyes soft while he scanned your face. “Would you feel comfortable sailing Eve further out? I checked for snails already, but I’d like to get away from the noise.”

You didn’t want the real world: the old memories and fears, or the gluttonous leeches along the shore, their squeals carrying over the light breeze.

“Why didn’t you say we’d be sailing,” you scolded with a smile. His eyes warmed at your tone, and you fought not to bounce on your toes after you kicked off your heels. “The dress I almost picked would have been a pain to sail in.”

“Mm, well, it all worked out,” he laughed, making you gasp when he pulled your hand up to spin you. “This dress suits you. Now hop to it, numbers girl, our dinner will get cold if we don’t get moving.”

True laughter poured from you while you flew across the deck. Following his instructions felt so freeing, until your body sank into old movements, coaxing the light breeze to help you drift away into the center of the lake.

You couldn’t be mad at the light sheen of sweat on your skin when he helped you tie up the sails, his lovely fingers brushing a bit of hair from your face as you finished up.

“I’ll be right back,” Iceburg promised after guiding you to the cushioned bench along the stern. Thoughts crept in too fast, and you almost ran after him while you waited under the darkening sky.

Nothing’s real. Nothing matters. Just this.

“Sorry for the wait, girlie. You still like spicy food, right?”

Mr. Iceburg pushed a pretty cart between you, and your thoughts went away again while you dined, falling into laughter and light topics to keep the world at bay.

It was such a strange, sweet feeling to be here with him.

“Would you like to take a tour below deck,” he offered. Tempted.

“Yes, please.”

You were so, very eager.

Who cares if he’s a monster, a leech? I want to feel this. Something good. A daydream to keep for later when the world goes dull and dark.

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🤡🐊🤡🐊~~~

Water 7 was a shit place for devil fruit users, but if she was there, if she was happy….

Buggy could find her.

I’ll just steal my ear back. Pretend it never happened.

“What do you need right now, little clown?”

“I need her to be happy.”

Crocodile wasn’t good at this.

He could spoil people, but caring for them was strange, especially when his own rage and fear sharpened his tongue too much.

Especially after endless hours of watching her torture projected on the wall, helpless to save his sweet girl from the past or the present.

“Do you think that Sylvad is just going to let her be happy,” the scarred man growled, eyes clenching shut at the thought of that taunting voice that had kept calling Y/N at the asylum each time she tried to face her fears.

Regret filled him while he met the tired, empty eyes of his little clown, but Crocodile couldn’t stop his own pitiful bargaining, his own worthless hopes.

“Even if she wants to be with Iceburg, Cedrick might—"

“I’ll just keep listening. Until the curtains drop.”

Buggy let out a soft gasp at the touch of a large hand pulling him close, but he allowed himself to be pressed against that chest, that warm silk such a comforting sensation now.

“She loves you, little clown,” the scarred man breathed. He would not let this be defeat.

He would not let his lovers stay broken, even if he had to break his own heart, his own mind to change this.

“Of course she does,” Buggy agreed, his voice too soft before he curled up against Crocodile, letting himself be held.

~~~🤡🐊🤡🐊~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

The cruising sailboat was large enough for the blue-haired shipwright to stand comfortably below deck and each step into the warmly lit space sped your pulse, hardly able to hear his deep voice while he showed off his work.

“It’s been a long time, but I’ve kept her maintained for you,” Mr. Iceburg shared while he guided your hand to press along the lovingly carved embellishments that seemed pulled from your dreams and fantasies. Eve seemed to have been built from your mind before you’d lost it all.

And here he was, the man of your dreams.

You hadn’t heard a word he’d said, but you knew he was talking about his work, that slow, peaceful smile on his face. His warm hand still held your wrist, pressing your hand along the counter in the kitchen area before sitting beside you on the cushioned bench.

He was here with you, and you lost yourself when he leaned close to meet your eyes.

“Y/N, I need— “

You needed this. You needed to disappear into daydreams, so you rushed, pressing your lips against his.

It was barely a kiss, but your lovely dream shattered when Mr. Iceburg pulled himself away, out of your reach on that pretty bench he’d carved.

“Whoa, hey, girlie,” he soothed. “I’m sorry, I—”

“Why?”

The parade of stupid feelings that ran through you made no fucking sense.

He doesn’t want me.

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” he hurried, patting you on the shoulder. “I didn’t… That’s not why I’m here.”

Humiliation followed that little heartbreak, yet something far more palatable, but far more dangerous followed close behind.

“Just here for the berry then,” you spat,” your control shattering along with that lovely dream. “Or did Uncle promise you a few forests too?”

“Well, he did say—but that’s not…”

Fuck. Stop. Don’t let him see.

“So, you’re not a monster, just a leech.”

Sick, angry laughter escaped you. Laughter that could ruin everything.

“Y/N,” the leech breathed, that deep, dreamy voice making you want to scream.

“I should have known,” you snarled, your mind still begging you to stop, to hide. “You were never his friend, were you? Just humored the rich asshole so you could line your own pockets. Is that why you never came to visit after he… Couldn’t get shit from me until now, could you?”

The boat was too small for your rage, and you pressed yourself against the wall while you shook, grinding your teeth to keep from crying.

“I am so sorry, Y/N,” the shipwright implored, his pained face making your mind ache with too many fucking things. “I should have come sooner. I knew something wasn’t right. I knew…”

Nails dug into your own forearms to stay here, but it only worked a bit. You pulled your legs up to hug them to you and huffed a laugh at the thought of the too-tight dress you’d almost worn for him.

“Mmsorry,” you slurred, eyes looking nowhere while you gave a weak smile. “Forests are nice. Everyone can be nice in a forest. We can pretend.”

“Shh, it’s okay.”

His voice was so deep.

He didn’t touch, but he was close while your head fell back, and you hummed from the thought of your favorite shipwright beside you.

“I don’t want berry, Y/N,” that voice promised such lovely lies. “I came here to help you. Please, tell me what Cedrick’s done. I know Arbo wouldn’t want this. He wanted you—”

Danger clawed you back into the world, fear reminding you that you were real.

That you didn’t have the luxury of giving in.

Clearing your throat, you noticed the crease between his brows when you shook yourself back to reality.

“Uncle Cedrick is following dad’s wishes.” You spoke clearly, and your sudden steadiness seemed to build that confusion in his eyes. “Thank you for your concern, Mr. Iceburg, but if you do not want to marry me for love, lust, or money, then you should leave. I am trying to find a husband.”

Iceburg held your gaze too long and if you weren’t still distant, you might have caved under his silent scrutiny.

“I tried to visit,” he admitted softly.

Your dream was pulling you down, dragging you into nightmares, but you couldn’t hold your face calm and beg him to stop at the same time.

“They wouldn’t—I kept asking why you were missing, why you weren’t at the funeral, or back at school. After a few weeks, I was going to report… I should have reported them.”

He came toward you slowly, stopping before touching your hand. You could barely see him through your wide eyes, lined with the sting of tears you needed to fight.

“Then they told me about the call,” Iceburg nearly choked, the pain on his face making your fingers scrape into your skin. “Cedrick and Delaine were afraid that seeing me would trigger you because he was on his way… I am so sorry, Y/N.”

Your head was shaking back and forth as part of you screamed inside your head to run, to leave, until rough, gentle fingers finally touched your hand.

“I should have kept trying, but after Tom was executed, I lost myself in my work, in keeping his dream alive.” He bowed his head while you tried to find a way to feel. Those fingers on your skin were the only anchor you could find. “I am ashamed of my cowardice. I was afraid that you would be scared of me, that you would hate me. That it really was my fault he was out there that night…”

stop please stop please stop

There was no way to make him stop, the word unable to push through the choking pressure in your throat.

“I stopped asking,” Mr. Iceburg confessed while he squeezed your hand, “until a few years ago. One of my interns got a little too drunk and said something that made me start asking again.”

“Stop,” you hissed, too soft and slow to change anything.

“Kev said he gave up the perfect girl for his dream. That he missed her, but that he couldn’t say no to—”

“No.”

Iceburg finally stopped, his gaze too heavy. Too real.

His voice was almost demanding now, distant, firm.

“What has Cedrick done, Y/N? It made sense with your trauma why you would wait a few years. Then I assumed he wanted you to finish school first, but you still haven’t taken over. Arbo told me he wanted you—”

“Dad wanted me to get married first, Mr. Iceburg,” you taunted, your voice teetering between a purr and a snarl. “Are you going to help me with that or not?”

Iceburg’s lips parted in gentle shock, and you laughed, fighting for control.

Another pause was so long that you let your head fall back against the wall while you counted the planks of wood above you, timing the numbers with your breath.

“I thought that might be it, although I found it hard to believe that Arbo would…. But it does confirm my suspicions. Cedrick paid Kev off, didn’t he,” Iceburg declared, his conviction making you cringe. “And your girlfriend? I looked for her after you broke up. I wanted to ask her what happened, to be sure.”

“I don’t,” you trailed off, wanting to run away from this stupid, real world.

“There’s no trace of her, Y/N. It’s been a year and half, and I still can’t find anything. Do you know what happened to—”

“She was fake,” you snarled now, angry laughter spilling from your lips when his eyes widened. “Kev was just weak, just a kid. Pathetic.”

“Y/N,” he soothed, but you didn’t let those lovely fingers touch yours again, clenching your fists above your thighs.

First love had his name back.

Second love never had one.

“I figured it out too late,” you laughed again, manic hate ripping through you along with your memories. “I tried to find her too. I didn’t want to believe it. I was an idiot. She was too perfect. She was everything I wanted, everything… She was a fucking con artist. Pretend. It’s all pretend!”

The voice that left your throat seemed to slice you into pieces on its way out. It felt like you would die from the effort it took not to fight, to hurt, not to let him see how broken you truly were.

“I am so sorry,” Mr. Iceburg sat back, his pity, and his hands rubbing along your shaking arms sinking you out of rage until stillness and silent tears were all you could feel.

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

~~~~~~

~~~⏰🌲🌲🌲⏰~~~

“I’m just going to freshen up,” you purred, pulling your hand out of your date’s insistent fingers.

“Don’t be too long,” he demanded while he snapped those fingers to get the server’s attention. “I’d like to buy you a new dress before we get to the theater. You look lovely, but that’s a little low cut for the opera, don’t you think?”

“Thank you, I’ll be right back.”

This fucker was pushing your smile to its limits, and you needed a break before you shoved his diamond-studded tie pin into his throat.

~~~⏰🌲~~~

The bathroom was a headache-inducing mix of white marble and pale pink and gold accents and probably cost more to build than your entire apartment complex. Your reflection still fit, so you calmed yourself by calculating the hours, the minutes, and the seconds until the date would be over.

It had been a while, and if you waited too long before trying, mom would start to nag you, until Uncle Cedrick would find some way to force you into another boring date with another boring leech.

“The opera will be over in about eight thousand one hundred seconds, and if it takes another half an hour to get away from him, and twenty-three minutes to get home, then that’ll be about eleven thousand two hundred eighty—”

“Wow, that sounds like a really good time.”

“Fuck, uh, sorry,” you yelped when you opened your eyes, gawking at the woman that had interrupted your pathetic whispers.

It was your server, smirking at you while she blocked the door.

“Why the fuck are you sorry?” She made a face at you, untying the long, black apron she wore over her uniform. That uniform distracted you enough that you forgot to answer, just stared at the gorgeous woman while she slinked toward you.

Men shouldn’t wear tuxedoes anymore. She owns them now; you thought with a smile.

Then your mind went blank.

“I think you deserve some fun after the shit date I just watched,” your second love tempted. She grabbed your chin, and the touch of her fingers made you gasp while she examined you. “Wanna get out of here, cutie?”

She made another face, raising a lovely brow while she dared you to say yes. There was suddenly nothing in the world but this ugly bathroom and your need to impress this stunning woman.

“Yes, but—”

“Don’t worry about that creep,” she laughed, her sultry voice sending shivers over your skin. “He won’t see us.”

Laughter bubbled out of you now, and you swallowed it down before it could echo in that marble box.

“But aren’t you working? What about your job?”

She jerked her head, motioning for you to help before responding.

“Fuck this job. You know that rich asshole didn’t even tip?”

Your second love laughed while she climbed onto the heavy side table you’d dragged below the window, and her offered hand seemed like a dream.

“Are you coming, cutie?”

~~~⏰🌲🌲🌲⏰~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

There was a blanket over you when your breath finally calmed. Mr. Iceburg was still holding your hand, and you didn’t know how long you’d let yourself be lost.

“I’m sorry.”

“Gods, please don’t be sorry, Y/N,” he huffed a laugh, soft and sad. “I’m sorry it took me so long to see you. I wish I had been there for you. Please, let me know how I can help. How can I get you out of this?”

A sigh left you, true grief now that the real world had shattered your pretty dream.

“Where’s the bathroom?”

~~~🌲~~~

Your reflection wasn’t as horrifying as you’d expected. The makeup that had trailed down your cheeks along with dangerous tears was easy to wipe away, and your hair was already mussed from sailing, so you let it be.

Even after all of that, the piece of you that held that sweet crush won out. He didn’t want you, and you’d just fallen apart in front of him, but…

He was still Mr. Iceburg, and you wanted to look good for him.

“I made you some tea,” his voice found you before he did, his eyes pouring over you when you met him in the living area. He stood to guide you to a couch, and his gentle touch along your hair made you want to drift away, just sleep it all away.

His heat on the couch beside you felt so soothing.

Right now is good. Just be here right now.

“Girlie, I…”

That voice brought your eyes to his, but you wished that it would be light again.

“I don’t know if we’ll get another chance to talk like this. Please, tell me how to help you. Tell me how to stop him,” your favorite shipwright begged.

“Can you pretend?” It was barely a sound. You knew you shouldn’t try, shouldn’t hope. Hope could kill you, break you more than any pain. But the compassion that radiated from him was too strong to resist. “I need to get married. I know you don’t want me, but if we…”

His frown drained the energy from you, so you let that hope go.

“There has to be a way to stop this, Y/N, let me help you.”

You smiled at him now, soft and true, deepening the frown on his concerned face.

“Thank you for trying, Mr. Iceburg, but I need you to leave. I will not leave this island until I get married.”

“Y/N, please. What has he done? I’ll help you. All of Galley-La will help you. Just tell me.”

Iceburg turned on the couch to grip your shoulders, imploring you to let him die for you. For nothing.

“Take me back,” you tried to command. You tried to protect this long-lost dream, this perfect man. A sick, selfish girl wasn’t worth the world losing someone like him, but you were weak, your Sylvad smile failing you when your voice cracked. “Please, I want to go back.”

“Girlie,” he breathed, and the touch of his hands on your face broke you down. Your favorite shipwright caught your tears again, pulling you against him while your silent grief left salt along his chest. “I will not abandon you again.”

Letting out a sigh, you enjoyed his touch for one more greedy moment before pulling yourself back.

I won’t be selfish again.

“You don’t need to feel guilty. Dad was out there because he trusted his numbers too much. It wasn’t your fault he didn’t wait.”

He held himself silent, but you didn’t give in this time, breathing out the pain in those memories.

“I am exactly where I want to be, Mr. Iceburg, and I will truly hate you if you interfere.”

“Please— “

“Thank you for the date, and for this beautiful gift,” you smiled as you stood. It was time to wake up. “I’m ready to— “

“Marry me, Y/N. I’ll do whatever it takes,” he vowed. You should have walked away, but the sight of Mr. Iceburg on his knees for you made you gasp. “I don’t want you to be forced into this, but if marrying you is the only way I can save you, then I will win this game. Please, let me take you away from here.”

It was laughable how pathetic you were, and the choked sound you let out made him grip your hands in his, chaining you to wicked hope.

It would be stupid to let hope in, to think you could be free. You were nearly broken already.

It would be stupid to reject the offer. If he really…

It was absolutely idiotic how disappointed you were that Mr. Iceburg hadn’t come here to take you, to use you, to let you disappear into lust and burn all of that stupid hope away.

“I don’t want you forced into this either,” you finally answered in a small voice. “Not if you don’t want— “

“Y/N, I would be a lucky man to have you by my side.” Your favorite shipwright let out a sigh, his shoulders slumping a bit while he gazed at you. “It only fuels my guilt. I left my friend’s child to suffer for years, and now that I finally have the courage to face you, I see that child has grown into… I failed you, girlie. I don’t deserve to be rewarded for it.”

His strong hands were still trapping yours, squeezing slightly as his last words came out in a rasp. You couldn’t understand, until a soft, dangerous hope flooded back in. There was no way to stop it, so you just braced for that naïve crush to crush you.

“I’m not a child, Mr. Iceburg,” you declared, surprised by your own wistful smile when you fought the urge to roll onto your toes. His eyes softened before you pulled your hands from his grip. “And I am not a reward.”

“Y/N, I…”

Just this moment. A little daydream.

He let you guide his hands to your cheeks, those carpenter’s fingers cradling your face. The sensation was enough to make you sigh, your knees going weak.

“Hey, girlie,” that deep voice poured over you. “I’m here. Please, tell me how I can help.”

Your eyes fluttered open, and you didn’t care if you were crushed now. Something sweet, almost electric, sang through your body until every piece of you was humming.

“Marry me,” you breathed, letting him see the heat in your eyes, the need in your desperate body while you swayed beneath those rough, gentle fingers. “I want you, Iceburg. This is my choice. If you want me too, please, take me. I want you to take me, to touch me, to—"

Mr. Iceburg was kissing you.

He’d pulled you against his chest while he tasted you, so slow and thorough that your eyes rolled back. He hummed at your little noises, and the sound was so deep, it left you shaking, clutching at him until you let out a yelp.

“Oh my,” Iceburg laughed when he pulled away slightly, one of his hands on your hip to keep you steady while you stared at the little creature you’d almost crushed with your desperate fingers in that striped jacket. He held Velociraptor up to the dimmed light before smiling that perfect smile at you. “I’m so sorry, I forgot to put him in his enclosure.”

“I’m sorry, buddy,” you laughed, petting the mouse before Iceburg stood, offering you his hand once again. The smile he gave you now caught your breath, offering something that you ached to have.

“There’s one more room to see, numbers girl. Would you like to drop him off and finish our tour?”

~~~🌲~~~

Biting your lip against the urge to squeal and rush toward the cabin kept you quiet, but watching Iceburg caring for his pet made you melt.

He was just so sweet. So silly. So fucking sexy.

Oh, that crush was back.

“I hope you like it,” Iceburg gestured to the cabin. The soft lights picked up the veins in his forearm along with the carved images along the walls. “Please let me know if you’d like me to make any changes—”

“It’s beautiful,” you smiled, happy to speak the truth. The cabin was stunning, so much redwood carved into fantastical creatures in magical forests. The touch of the raised wood felt so soothing under your palms; the familiar scent of the room made you feel safe.

The berth could be two smaller mattresses, or one triangular bed. The edges were together at one point, with another triangular section that you enjoyed watching Iceburg lock into place between them before he sat on the dark, green bedding.

“Y/N, I am going to marry you, no matter what. We don’t need to—”

“Please, don’t make me say all that over again,” you teased, stepping between his legs.

He stared at you, his eyes so heavy that you thought it was over.

“What if I want you to say it again?” Your favorite shipwright chuckled when you moaned from the sound of his voice, and his strong hands gripped your waist when you swayed. “Will you say it again for me, girlie? Tell me what you want?”

“Fuck, I…”

Iceburg left his request along your ear as he breathed you in, pulling back to watch your eyes while you tried to remember how to speak.

His eyes were dark, a look you had never seen there before.

And you wanted more.

“I want you, Iceburg, please,” you begged, shamelessly begged. He kept staring, just a bit of movement at the corner of his lips while you fell apart. “I want you to take me, to fuck me. I want…”

“There’s not enough time for me to fuck you tonight, girlie,” he broke your heart with a satisfied laugh. “But I’ll—”

“Please, Iceburg,” you scolded, trying to forget the world outside of this lovely dream. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders and teased your fingers along the undercut that suited him so well. “We’re getting married, so you can fuck me as slow and thorough as you like for the rest of our days, but for right now I want you to fucking take me.”

“Mm, well,” he hummed before his rough, gentle fingers teased under your dress. He took in a sharp breath, eyes darker than ever while he rubbed over your clit, your panties already soaked from him. “If that’s what my fiancé wants, then that’s what she’ll get.”

“Fuck! Iceburg, please,” you cried out at the perfect stretch of the two fingers he’d just plunged into you, sliding around your panties with a skilled touch that made you stumble against him. He sat you on one of his thighs but never stopped.

“Come on my fingers first, then I’ll give you everything you—Mm, that’s it, girlie. Fuck, you’re gorgeous, Y/N.”

“Don’t stop,” you managed to beg while he laid you down on that bed he’d carved for you.

He helped your struggling fingers, freeing you from your clothes before stripping, and your mouth was gaping by the time he crawled up the bed.

It was Mr. Iceburg.

Naked.

“Are you sure—”

“Yes, please,” you reached for him.

Your mind went blank at the touch of that perfect cock in your hands, and the deliciously deep moan it had earned you. Then you whined, when he pulled out of your reach.

“No time for that,” Iceburg teased you, and you couldn’t take it. You melted at the touch of those hands, letting him guide you where he wanted, until he was smiling down at you between your spread legs. “But I promise you…”

“Oh gods, oh f—fuck.”

The way he was looking at you…

The way his cock felt when he teased the tip around your clit before shoving into you…

“I promise that the next time I fuck you, I will be thorough,” Iceburg threatened over your moans as he slammed his thick cock into your desperate cunt. He snapped his hips up, hitting you so fucking deep that it hurt, but he had you coming again before you could care, while you scraped your nails down the lovely, purple tattoos that graced his shoulders and arms. “I will touch and taste every little piece of you. We’ll take it nice and slow, huh, girlie?”

Iceburg pulled your hips up, those incredible fingers holding you in place so he could fuck himself into you.

“Mm, you’re going to take it slow for me tonight, aren’t you?”

“What,” you managed to choke out while he changed position.

“The wedding won’t be for another week or so.” The shipwright made your eyes roll back when he brought a thumb down to dance over your clit, making you twitch while he took you, just like you’d begged for. “So, I want my fiancé to prepare for our wedding night. I want you to play with yourself tonight and every night, nice and slow, and think about how thorough I’m going to be when I fuck my wife.”

“Ice…”

“Gods, you’re beautiful,” Iceburg panted before kissing you deep, keeping you in this lovely dream. “Can I come on your pretty stomach, girlie? Mm, come one more time for me first, I know you can—So good, fuck. Right here.”

You were twitching with so much pleasure, your legs still spasming when he pulled out of you, only to press the length of that swollen cock against your skin.

It was too much. The look on his face, the praise he moaned for you, the feel of his twitching cock, and the ropes and ropes of his come that painted your skin kept you going until you went limp.

Bells rang out, far too close over the water.

“Fuck,” you whimpered.

“Don’t worry,” your favorite shipwright hummed, already cleaning you gently, and refusing to let you get up yet. His deep voice, and light kisses sent shivers down your body, but the real world was getting louder. “I’ve got you.”

You wished you could hang onto all those feelings, but it was turning gray. It would be a lovely daydream for later, but right now, you were going numb. You had to.

“Hey, girlie,” Iceburg tugged on your hand before you could leave the cabin, and you turned to find him smiling, your locket dangling from one of his lovely hands. You nodded at his gesture, letting him wrap that chain of guilt and brightness around your throat again.

Don’t think. Stop thinking.

“Looks like we were thorough enough to lose your jewelry in the sheets,” he laughed while he took your hand to guide you back to the world. “You should probably take it off next time. I’d hate to make you lose something so pretty while I fuck my pretty wife.”

~~~🌲~~~

Such a lovely dream.

If only it could have lasted forever or destroyed the world when it ended.

You couldn’t hang onto the incredible feelings and dangerous hope your favorite shipwright had filled you with, and you couldn’t follow his intoxicating orders.

Your fingers couldn’t reach for pleasure tonight.

Instead, your fingers clung to guilt and brightness while you sobbed over too many broken dreams.

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🔴🔴🔴 ~~~

His image wasn’t spread across a screen, but the Emperor of the Sea could feel the eyes on him while he lounged at a little table by the lake. He’d only had one bottle so far, but the stench of self-pity that surrounded him made him feel sicker than wine ever had.

Time to move.

He could have moved faster, but it would look like an attack.

Shanks could kill him.

The red-haired pirate was having too many thoughts.

Just move. There he is.

Iceburg had finally left that pretty sailboat after staying behind when Y/N was whisked away in a fluffy robe. Applause rang out from the drunk, disgusting leeches as she went.

Shanks could kill them all.

Not yet.

“So, what did you think,” the villain purred, tasting a hint of pleasure at the tension in his prey’s shoulders when he crept up behind him. “Your best friend’s daughter is so precious. So very sweet, huh?”

Iceburg rounded on him, only to meet his gaze, silent and judging.

“Or did you prefer her back then,” Shanks taunted, letting himself enjoy the snarl on the other man’s lips. His enemy pulled it in, so he kept pushing. “I had to try sooo hard not to break her, but she is an eager, little thing, isn’t she? Did you train her for us all those years ago?”

“Keep talking.”

Now it was Shanks’ lips that twitched into a snarl as he stood off against a wall of ice.

“I just thought I should thank you.” He fought not to choke the man that was besting him, and knew he’d have to walk away soon to keep from doing it. “I never did like them so young, but whatever you did to her worked wonders. Did you teach her that little—”

“Come on, boys, we’re all friends here.”

That sickeningly satisfied voice froze them both before Cedrick Sylvad stepped between them with his guards close behind. He gestured back toward the crowd, and toward the screens that showed off the rage in the emperor’s eyes, and the coldness in his enemy’s gaze.

“It’s so good to see how serious you both are about my dear niece,” the monster beamed. Sylvad threw his arms over their shoulders, forcing them to walk with him, to smile with him, as though they weren’t a breath away from violence. “Honestly, it warms my heart. I wonder if either of you will pierce hers.”

Y/N’s wicked uncle laughed, pleased with his game.

No matter how it ends, this man needs to die.

Shanks had too many thoughts.

~~~🔴🔴🔴 ~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

Rough, gentle fingers kept catching your eyes during breakfast, but you had to stop. Just smile, pretend, the same as all the rest.

“I hope you all come visit us after the wedding,” Iceburg hummed, his confidence raising your sister’s brows, so you faked a sip of your drink before your face could betray you. “We’ve made some improvements on the old boom boat design. I’m certain they’ll speed your logging transport for some of your smaller operations, and they are quite fun to sail. Maybe we can have a race?”

“That sounds lovely, Mayor—”

“Of course,” Cedrick cut your mother off, chuckling as he leaned toward the confident shipwright. “First you need to win this race, old friend. You must have had quite the night to be so confident.”

You had schooled your features, giving your Uncle nothing but your Sylvad Smile.

“I came here to win,” Iceburg countered, steady and pleased while he raised his glass. “Galley-La and Sylvad’s Lumber & Shipping are a perfect match, and I’m certain that Y/N and I will be the same.”

“At least your priorities haven’t changed,” Uncle Cedrick laughed as he sent you a taunting look. “Wood before women every time, huh?””

“Water 7 is always first,” Iceburg managed his own smile, schmoozing with your Uncle while he spoke with too much truth. “But I’m here to win the woman and the wood that will help me save my home. Help our island sail to safer waters.”

“Cheers,” Uncle demanded, interrupting your spiral to make you toast your favorite shipwright. “Cheers to perfect matches, good deals, and useful, little brides. Good hunting, old friend.”

Those distracting fingers snagged yours from across the table, calming your hurt from being used. Saving Water 7 was a good reason to be bought, a good price for your freedom. You wanted to pay him back for saving you, especially if last night wasn’t really a dream.

Water 7 might be your new home.

The sudden rush of storms within you made your throat dry.

Were you willing to pay the price of freedom if it came with that storm?

Swallowing down your fears was rough with that dryness still closing your throat, but you put it all away. First, you had to survive this twisted hunt.

Then you could face the storm.

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

Likes, comments, and reblogs bring me much ✨dopamine✨ thank you!!

Author's Note: Sooo, maybe one day I'll be able to talk to humans again. This hermit mode episode is quite excessive. Thank you for all of your comments. Hopefully I'll be able to respond soon. Y'all should see my text, voicemail, and email notifications, lol. I was super nervous about this one, as the Iceburg situation could be very triggering. I hope that it didn't cause strain for anyone, but if you chose to skip it, here's a summary of the chapter. Thank you so much for reading and taking care of yourself. Please know that you are not alone, and you deserve to feel safe 💜

Chapter 37 Summary:

Reader wanted to have this date, this daydream, so she kissed her favorite shipwright, only to feel rage when he pulled away. Iceburg stated that he wasn't there for that, so she accused him of only caring about money, asking if that was why he never visited after her father died.

Iceburg confessed that he had tried to visit, that he was concerned about why reader had been missing from the funeral and school, but that he stopped asking after Cedrick and Delaine told him about her father's last call. They told him that it would be triggering for reader to see him. He stated that it made sense that reader would wait after the trauma, but as more time went on, he became suspicious since Arbo told him that he wanted reader to take over.

Iceburg was ashamed of himself for not coming sooner, but his guilt over what happened, and fear that reader would hate him kept him away, and he lost himself in work after Tom was executed. He began asking again after one of his interns drunkenly said something. Reader resisted, but Iceburg stated her first love's name, sharing that "Kev" said he gave up the perfect girl for his dream. Reader revealed that Arbo wanted her to marry before taking over, and Iceburg shared his suspicions that Cedrick paid Kev off.

Iceburg looked for reader's girlfriend after they broke up a year and a half ago, but there was no trace of her. Reader stopped him from saying her name, and said she had looked for her too, only to realize that she was a con artist. A flashback of the reader meeting her second love showed reader stuck in a boring date, and her second love helping the reader go have some fun, offering to help her climb out of a bathroom window. Reader was enamored with the gorgeous woman that called her "cutie."

Reader felt Iceburg didn't want her but said she wouldn't be leaving the island without being married. When he resisted, trying to find another way, reader decided to let him go and told him it wasn't his fault her dad died. She didn't want to get him killed, but Iceburg declared that he would marry her.

After reader said she didn't want him to be forced into this, Iceburg shared that he would be lucky to have her but expressed his guilt. Iceburg said he failed her, and shouldn't be rewarded for it.

Reader realized what he meant, and declared that she was not a child, she was not a reward, and that this was her choice. She expressed her desire for him, and they spent the rest of the date being intimate, while reminding each other that they were going to be married in a week or so.

As the date ended, Iceburg saw that reader's locket had fallen off in the bed, and suggested she take it off next time. After the date, reader couldn't hold onto the good feelings she'd felt that night. Instead, she held onto her locket and cried.

Shanks waited for Iceburg and taunted him about being with the reader in the past. The heavy tension between the two hunters was interrupted by Cedrick wrapping his arms around their shoulders, stating that they were all friends.

During breakfast, Iceburg shared his confidence and described them as a perfect match along with their companies. Cedrick laughed and accused Iceburg of caring about wood before women, but Iceburg said he cared about Water 7 first, and that he was here to win the woman and wood that would help him save his home.

Reader realized with fear that if she did marry him she would move to Water 7, but knew she had to survive the hunt before she could face the storm.

Chapter 38

This world is hard, and finding ways to help can be overwhelming. Operation Olive Branch is a volunteer, grassroots effort committed to the collective liberation of all peoples, and they prioritize transparency and community. If you enjoyed this fic, and are able, please click the link to find a list of fundraisers, as well as other ways to help.

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suzukiblu · 1 day ago

Text

WIP excerpt behind the cut; "the one where Kon's soulmark is fake". I remembered that, like, SEVERAL of my older WIPs are just a hot mess at the starts of their tags and also realized that I had posted like, very little coherently-connected parts of specifically this one's beginning, for some reason? Despite the fact that I love hurting and being hurt?? Somehow???? TERRIBLE oversight on my part, gang, sorry, here y'all go, enjoyyyyy~ 💙 (( chrono || non-chrono ))

Kon is sort of fucked-up in a lot of ways, but he didn't deliberately get the tattoo. Like–he's not that fucked-up. Hell, even Black Zero wasn't that fucked-up.

Black Zero's Westfield didn't even give him the tattoo, actually, so maybe that's part of why they had a better relationship than Kon did with his version of the guy. Kon would also have hated the asshole a lot less if not for the tattoo, probably.

But his Westfield had made damn sure to give it to him.

Kon doesn't remember much before he got broken out of the cloning tube, but he does remember getting the tattoo. It'd taken a really long time, and it'd been the first time he'd ever felt pain. So like, it'd made an impression.

He hadn't even known what it was for, then. Hadn't even known what it was supposed to be. A brand? A method of identification? Some kind of weird serial number analogue?

Not so much, it'd turned out.

Superman's soulmark is a gorgeous Kryptonian sunrise spread out across his chest, bold and bright and beautiful. It looks like the rising truth and the clarity of a new beginning and the very literal physical manifestation of hope.

And Kon's tattoo looks exactly like it.

Except for the part where it's obviously just a tattoo, of course.

Tattoos don't pass for soulmarks, after all, which is the only reason Kon has the damn thing to begin with. Westfield hadn't wanted him to make the mistake of thinking that he was a real person, or to make the mistake of thinking that anyone was ever going to give a fuck about him as the person that he was. He was a clone, an experiment, a weapon, a thing. He didn't have a soul or a soulmate. Didn't have a mark.

He got over that. Like, it sucks? It really sucks. And he still hates it. But he'd gotten over it.

Or he'd thought he had, until he'd found out who Superman's soulmate was.

"What?" Kon says, staring blankly.

"Dad's my soulmate," Jon repeats, pointing at the Kryptonian sunrise spread out across his chest, brightly illuminated by the noontime sun as they stand on the dock at the edge of a little pond on the outskirts of Smallville. "Why, who's yours? Or don't you know yet? Like, has it not come in?"

"Clones don't get soulmarks," Kon says, wanting very, very badly to just throw up and die.

"Huh?" Jon says, looking actually surprised. Kon continues to want to throw up and die. Or maybe bury himself in magma in the center of the planet and stay there 'til he suffocates. "But I thought everybody got soulmarks!"

"Naw," Kon says instead of fuck you, because the kid's ten and doesn't deserve that.

"Why not?" Jon asks, because again, he's ten. Ten and apparently as emotionally intelligent as a pudding cup, but whatever. Not like Kon's never had this conversation before.

Never with Clark's kid who is apparently so much his kid as to be his literal fucking soulmate, which no one ever thought to mention to the stupid shitty clone in the past like four months since Clark had finally admitted to the secret identity that Kon had long since figured out thanks to Hypertime bullshit, but whatever. He only even officially met Jon a couple months ago.

Probably they all figured it just wasn't his business, he guesses.

Which–it's not, really. It's not his business. It never has been.

It's not.

"I mean, I'm sentient or whatever, but I'm manufactured," Kon tells the kid with a shrug. "Therefore no soul, therefore no soulmate, therefore no soulmark. That's all."

"You don't have a soul?" Jon asks in bewilderment.

"Naw," Kon says again, with another shrug. "So like, we gonna swim or what?"

"Oh, uh, yeah," Jon says, still looking bewildered.

So they swim.

Kon, obviously, doesn't take his shirt off for it.

Jon, mercifully, doesn't ask why.

It's fun, aside from being the worst afternoon of Kon's life. They fuck around for a couple hours, then fly back to the farm after and mostly dry off on the way, and Clark comes out to meet–well, not them, obviously, but Jon. Jon lights up at the sight of him and throws himself straight into his arms like he's never once had to question whether or not Clark would ever want him there, and Clark smiles down at him like he's the most important person in the world.

Kon should just count himself lucky that Clark trusts him enough to leave him alone with his kid for more than thirty seconds and be grateful.

What Kon actually is, of course, is jealous and angry and fucking heartbroken.

Jon is ten. Kon was manufactured two years ago. Clark had a real kid long before Kon was even a theoretical spark in a scientist's eye.

And Jon had Clark the whole time Superboy was just desperately hoping that Superman would decide he was worth his attention. Worth the "S". Worth . . .

When Clark had offered him a name from his family–specifically a name from an adopted member of his family–Kon had been . . . stupid, a little, and thought that it might've been, like . . . another step. Like he'd hoped that Superman even letting his weird stupid clone wear the "S" to begin with might've been.

He hadn't been a complete idiot or anything. He'd known Clark would never, like–want to keep him around or have him too close or anything. He'd just thought that maybe he'd . . . that someday he might've . . .

Kon isn't a real person. Like–obviously he's not. It isn't subtle. Hell, he'd have known it even if Westfield hadn't bothered tattooing him with a copy of Clark's mark. And really, he guesses he should be grateful Westfield didn't tattoo his own soulmark on him, whatever it was.

Just, like, of course he's not Clark's . . . family, or whatever. Of course he's just like that one weird kid from down the street that somebody occasionally invites over out of pity who only learns the family secrets by accident or through osmosis and isn't actually kept in the loop or anything. Kon knows that.

But watching Jon beam up at his dad and Clark smile down at his son is still making him want to curl up and die right here and now.

Kon does kind of wonder what it's like to be, like . . . loved, or whatever.

Everybody always makes it sound really nice.

"Dinner's about ready," Clark says. "You two mind setting the table?"

"Sorry, I gotta get going," Kon says instead of admitting he has no idea how to set a fucking table, especially not to whatever Martha Kent's standards are. Cadmus did not actually see fit to educate him on typical household chores and he has very rarely ever sat down at any semblance of a normal family dinner. Like, in Hawaii they all just ate wherever and not even all together half the time, and Cadmus has a cafeteria, and Young Justice just dumps a pile of junk food or takeout on the nearest unoccupied surface and they all just go to town on it like the weird gaggle of semi-superpowered and usually-ravenous teenagers that they are.

He could look it up on his phone, and he probably will later, but there's no way he's gonna run the risk of getting caught looking it up on his phone. Like–no. Never, thanks. Miss him with that particular little bit of "further proof of being a fake person" humiliation.

So it's . . . whatever, he guesses.

"Well, that's alright, we'll just have to catch you another time," Clark says with a polite smile that looks nothing like the one he was just wearing for Jon, and doesn't even fake like he's disappointed or like he's gonna miss him. Because like . . . why would he, after all?

Kon misses him all the time, but Kon's the pathetic counterfeit of a person with a copy of said person's soulmark tattooed on him.

"Yeah, sure," Kon says, thinking longingly of suffocating in the center of the planet.

Sometimes he thinks about what's gonna happen when he finally gets his dumb ass killed and whoever, like, autopsies or embalms him or whatever sees the tattoo. Thinks about what they're gonna think, if they . . .

Superman's soulmark isn't a secret or anything. Clark's gotten smashed around too often for the suit to have kept it covered all this time. So like, if someone ever saw the tattoo on Kon's chest and didn't know that Cadmus put it there . . .

Like . . . well. The natural assumption would be that Kon got it on purpose, obviously. That Kon was actually, like, that fucking pathetic and disturbed of a person.

He never wants anyone to see it. Never wants anyone to know. Never . . . just never. None of it. Ever.

And Clark will never smile at him like he smiles at Jon, so maybe Clark will just never know about the tattoo either. Maybe that's a thing that Kon can manage.

He's managed it so far, at least.

Kon goes back to Cadmus and buries himself in his eternally unmade bed in his cramped little disaster of a room and desperately tries to not be the absolute fucking freak that he is.

He definitely fails at not being the absolute fucking freak that he is.

He cries about it for a little bit, like that's something he even has the fucking right to do, and tries so fucking hard to forget how Jon's very real soulmark had looked when he'd stripped his shirt off and bared it so unselfconsciously. Not even deliberately or proudly–just as a simple, inalienable fact. A thing that he knew. A thing he just had.

Although Kon wouldn't even care about the stupid goddamn mark, if Clark would ever look at him even a little bit like the way he looks at Jon.

He tries not to think about the way Clark would actually look at him, if he ever found out that Cadmus had tattooed his fucking kid's mark on him.

Kon's never let himself think too much about Clark's mark, on account of not wanting to torment himself that bad. He'd just vaguely assumed that it was Lois at some point and then just shoved said assumption in a box and drowned it in concrete and made sure to never, ever take his shirt off in front of anyone else or any possible cameras or spy equipment or anything similar. Ever.

He should've known it wasn't Lois. It's a Kryptonian sunrise. Why would it be Lois?

If it were Lois, though, Kon wouldn't care this much. If it were Lois, it'd be a romantic mark, and Lois is straight-up gorgeous and a total fucking badass, yeah, but Kon doesn't, like, want her or anything. There's nothing to be jealous of there.

So of course it's not Lois. Of course it's not romantic.

It's Jon, and on top of that it's a mark that only actual Kryptonians would ever share.

It's Clark's real kid. The one he had long before Kon was even a single strand of stolen DNA or a cell in a cloning tube or even a scribbled theoretical on a whiteboard or in somebody's notes.

The one he actually wants.

Not for the first time, Kon wishes that prick Westfield weren't too dead to punch.

And while he's wishing for completely impossible shit that’s never gonna happen, he wishes he could've been able to stay in Smallville for that stupid dinner without fucking embarrassing himself, too.

#kon el #conner kent #superboy #superfamily #wip: the one where kon's soulmark is fake

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