#or push her body further down like i want to see more sky for the last one :/ | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

utterlyazriel · 1 year ago

Text

an eternity, my love

eep! this is a bit longer than the last at just over 6k forgive me... but thank so much for all love on the first piece 🥹 and thank u for all your lovely ideas! i hope this does sum justice to the nonnie who asked for further miscommuncation... <3 part one here but u don’t need to read it to read this :)

How does one even begin to decide what to wear to dinner with a person, the person, who matched your soul perfectly?

When your friend had hunted her way through clothing stores of Velaris and stashed away a custom dress — far fancier than anything you owned — for the first date with her mate, you had laughed at her.

Now, staring at your closet in only your undergarments, you were beginning to envy her preparation.

Seriously, how are you supposed to choose?

You pick up your latest addition to your closet, a glossy dress the colour of red wine that reveals the length of your legs and planes of your collarbones— perfect for a night out dancing.

With a grimace, you place it back on the hanger. It was far more scandalous than you would want to be on a first date, even though — well, you’re sure that, being mates, Azriel would like anything you wore.

You heave a sigh. An uneasy prickle beneath your skin has you crossing your arms; it was almost alarming how badly you wanted to impress him. But… mating bonds were rare and powerful.

Almost as if you had summoned it — in fact, maybe you had — there’s a soft shimmer in your chest. Your beautiful glow, the bridge between you and Azriel humming to life. In a way you can’t explain, it’s as though you can feel him soothe across your mind, his soft touch full of assurances.

He’s comforting you. All your emotions must be shooting down the bond without your permission. Gods, that would take some getting used to. You wonder if he can feel your resounding pang of embarrassment as well.

You do your best to push back something less nervous, more of your excitement for the night to come — and you know, without even seeing him, he’s smiling.

After another moment of fussing, you decide on something simpler than your glossy night dress.

Comfortable black slacks with plenty of flow to them and a shirt you thought was one of your nicer ones. With the slightest touch ups to your makeup, you rush yourself out the door before you convince yourself to change all over again.

The Sidra keeps you company, a rush of water beside you as you wind through the streets of Velaris, eyes flicking up to take in the darkening sky. The sun was sinking below the mountain tops, rays tickling across the ridges.

And while you could admit that Velaris was very beautiful in the daytime, you were a true Night court citizen— and believed its true beauty came out at night.

Somehow, despite the lack of concrete plans made as you had ushered the male out of your office, you knew resolutely that you would be able to find him. You weren’t even worried about the timing of it all. It was… what was the word? Absurd. Insane. Utterly, breathtakingly incredible.

Sure enough, as you exit the alley and round the corner, your eyes falling on the sage green building you reside in for work, there he is; waiting for you.

You inhale a sharp breath. A thousand cells in your body fizz, hum, and glow, at the mere sight of him.

It's easy to understand just how he had garnered his dark reputation, the image of him every bit of the Spymaster of the Night Court — a title like Shadowsinger has never been so fitting for him.

He’s blurred at the edges, a thousand tiny wisps that blend him into the shadows of the nighttime. His wings stretch up behind, towering over his already tall frame, black as ink, and beneath his darkened attire, you can spot his tan skin. Your eyes drag up his neck, tracing his adam's apple, along the scruff of his sharp jaw until you reach his hazel eyes.

Your heart burns.

In the depth of it, you know, if he doesn't love you, he will undo you completely.

It's wholly terrifying to come face to face with — the intensity of the mating bond scorching through your mind like a fierce wind, burning embers left in its wake.

It's enough to make you pause, the definitive thought that doing this, offering him your heart and trusting him, could very well lead to your ruin.

Your chest squeezes tightly. You let your eyes drink in the Illyrian, the Male who waited so patiently for all those years and was prepared to wait years more, if you had asked.

Focusing, you pluck up that golden thread in your chest and hold it tightly. It heats and melts, hotter and hotter, and you know that any fear you have, you can conquer to be with him.

Ruination be damned.

—

Azriel notices you the moment your frame exits the alley, notices the moment you pause — has been able to feel you drawing nearer to him this whole time. Your every emotion is transparent to him through the bond between you, whether you’re aware of it or not.

You must not have the tightened mental shields he had come to be so familiar with over all his years. It makes sense; you are no warrior. Mental walls over your mind are not something you have ever had to concern yourself with.

Azriel vows it to be one of the things he teaches you. You deserved the privacy of your emotions, at the very least.

But... for now, Azriel can feel them all. It's why, as you round the corner, Azriel can feel your eyes on him and then, then he feels it.

The wash of fear that spills over your bond like icy water.

An old enemy rises within him. He grits his teeth, even as he feels the fear from you slide away and he tries to ignore the sting from an unhealed wound. But self-deprecation never seems to drown, no matter how much he tries to suffocate it within him.

He shifts his hands, relieved suddenly to have them covered up beneath gloves. His wings tuck in tighter, if possible, and he wills his shadows sternly to contain themselves. Something in the slightest baring of his teeth has them obeying. They shoot to his sides and make themselves scarce.

All this in time to greet you pleasantly as you bounce into view, sidling up before him with a shy grin. It's only been a few hours since he got his proper look at you and yet, you're every bit as breathtaking as you were earlier. More so, in fact.

It feels as though Azriel has never seen the sky before and you before him, are the first sunset of his life. You look so pretty that Azriel could probably gaze at you all evening if you so allowed him to.

And then, he remembers the pang of fear.

He doesn't waste time mulling over which detail of him had made you afraid — only that he would dim or change or hide any part of himself to stop it from happening again.

"Hello, again," You say, your lips pressed together to contain your smile. You have to tilt your head back to look up at his handsome face. His shadows swirl around him and despite his strict instructions, one still slips away to touch you.

You don't notice it circling your ankle, tentative and shy.

"Hello, again." Azriel echoes your words, unable to help his own glimmer of joy.

He wants to offer you his arm, his hand. Can feel it within him, down to the very marrow of his bones, the craving to be closer to you, to touch you, however he can.

Azriel swallows heavily and does what he has done over decades, over centuries; he takes the wanting and pushes it down, down, down.

The two of you begin to walk, side by side, with no destination in mind. Aimless and content at the same time.

Azriel doesn't need the bond to see the flittering of nerves hidden in your expression. The shadow still circulating around your ankle climbs higher, like it wants to comfort you too.

Azriel wills it to still, desperate to not scare you again. He drops his shoulders from his usual warrior posture in hopes of making himself a little smaller.

“You don’t need to be nervous.” He says reassuringly.

You steal a glimpse at him, your smile breaking into a grin. Your nerves are still potent but less so.

“Who says I’m nervous?”

Azriel smiles gently, his eyes dancing across your face as he reads your lie easily. “I do."

There's a scrunch between your eyebrows then, like he had seen during his time in your office earlier. Azriel places a hand on his chest, over the place where the glowing tug is strongest.

"I can feel it.”

Your eyes widen slightly as you stare at his gloved hand, the cogs in your brain spinning and turning at a rapid rate. Still strolling, your hand rises slowly and touches to the same spot on your own chest. Azriel can feel his heart stutter at the sight, you holding the spot that connected you to him undeniably.

"You can?" Your gaze lifts to his face, puzzlement adorning your features. You frown and focus for a moment, staring hard into the distance — and Azriel feels a sudden twinge of disgust through the thread.

"Did you feel that?" You ask, eyes wide and curious.

Azriel nods wordlessly and he can't help but ask. "What is it you were thinking of?"

You look embarrassed for a moment, eyes averting to the ground. You chuckle awkwardly and tuck your hair behind your ears, glancing back up at the Male with a sheepish smile.

"Brussels sprouts."

Azriel blinks once, twice, and then has to turn to hide his smile. He tries to cover his laugh with a cough. It doesn't work, given how you make a small noise of indignation. He turns back, his politest expression on.

"Don't laugh at me!" You whine, reaching out to poke him in the shoulder. Your touch radiates through his body like a drop of golden sun, blazing warm.

"You're right," Azriel hums, his lips twitching as he presses back his smile. "My apologies, my lady. This is important knowledge I should be filing away. I swear on my life I will feed you no brussels sprouts this evening, or any in the future."

He wants to nudge your shoulder with his own, just to touch you, wants to reach out as easily as you had. But his shadows slip before his self-control does, skittering out along onto your shoulder and giving you a small shock and Azriel remembers himself. His fists clench tightly at his sides.

You walk side by side all evening, like two planets in orbit — close, oh so close, but never quite touching.

—

The first date you share is nothing short of… wonderful.

Resolutely and overwhelming good, the entire date you can't help but feel as though your very soul is singing, a thousand particles blithesome at the nearness you get to share with Azriel. He's surprising in a manner of ways.

Firstly, he's terribly quiet.

Next to him, you look quite the blabber-mouth, no matter how much he insists he enjoys it. His dark eyes are intense as they watch you closely, soaking in every word that passes your lips, and yet, beneath it, his dry sense of humour comes out to play. There's the occasional tease, almost as if just to see if he could make you flustered. (He could, easily).

With a Male as beautiful as him, suited to your very being in every way, it's nearly unbearable how much you ache for him. How much his very attention creeps down your neck and makes every nerve along your spine tingle.

You know it will take some time to get used to his unwavering and devoted attention.

There’s… just one small, itty-bitty, tiny problem.

He doesn’t touch you.

Throughout that whole first evening, you had noticed it somewhat— a flex in his gloved hands, a moment where his wing strayed too close only to be pulled back in a flash, even his shadows, darting out to be near you but never quite touching you as they had on that first meeting.

His hands reach out but they do not find you.

At first, you believed it was a first date thing. Azriel was, first and foremost, a gentleman, and you thought perhaps, his skirting touch, like his hand lingering over the small of your back but not touching it, was to be polite. Courteous and gracious.

Then, you had seen him just two days after that date, all bundled up in your giddiness that it had managed to slip your mind.

The two of you had spent the day together, traversing through the market — before you quickly found a quieter space for your mate as it became clear that large bustling areas, such as the Palace of Threads and Jewels, were not so suited to his tastes.

As you had tugged him out of the crowd, laughing over your shoulder at how he fought to keep his broad wings from knocking into anyone else, the thought suddenly snapped back into you.

Though you yearned to link his arm with your own, to interlace your fingers with his, you remembered his hesitance. Remembered the hover of his gloved hand.

And so, you dropped his arm the moment you cleared the crowd.

A hurt warbled deep within you to so do and knowing you were not the deftest at schooling your expressions, you hid your face so you could contain your childish reactions. You huffed at your own upset. What matter is it if your mate has no affinity to touch?

Truly, it was a miracle to have found a mate at all, you tried to scold yourself. You would not take him for granted for a moment, not even if it was not quite the picture of perfection you had envisioned.

Rooted deep in you was a truth; you could abide by this, abstain to his level of comfort for years, for millennia, if it made him happier.

The fabric of the mating bond, connecting the two of you intrinsically, made it so you would not want it any other way.

It's a decidedly Azriel thing.

He always wears the gloves, he never touches you more than he has to, and he's got... this really specific look when you're doing a terrible job of hiding your emotions.

As he had vowed, Azriel had set about teaching you how to build the mental walls up within your mind, brick by brick by brick. While it would help you hold against daemati if that loathsome situation should ever arise, it would also shield you from your mate.

It would protect you from having your emotions ripped out for him to see, no matter how much you held back — if it was in your mind, it would travel down the bond.

So, the wall had to be built. It had been tedious, tricky, and tiring work. Yet every time you would feel yourself ready to throw in the towel, Azriel would lean in closer, his hazel eyes softened, and his hand resting upon your arm, thumb swatching up and down, to encourage you.

"I know it is tiresome," He had mused, that faint smile twitching at his lips as you scowled at the ground. His thumb was still moving, still drawing light circles on your bicep. The skin beneath it blazed with warmth. "But it is worth it, that I can promise. You deserve this privacy, my dear. I would never wish to take it from you."

My dear, my dear, my dear— the words had sunk into your sternum and bloomed, bright and golden.

It's enough to hold onto, his kind affections. The sweet shape of his mouth when it says your name. The way his lashes kiss in the corner when he can't hold back his smile.

It's enough to soothe yourself over. To take the lack of touch on the chin and swallow down your desire for more.

It's why— why you can't help yourself— why you couldn't tear your eyes away from Azriel's hand where it touches Cassian's arm.

You're meeting his family today, which you've quickly realised doesn't mean his mother or father but instead means... the literal Highlord of the Night Court.

There are several warriors crowded around the cramped entrance room to the River House. Each of them is taller than you, and two of them with the very same huge wingspans that you've come to revere on your own mate.

Your usual talkativeness has been dimmed in your shock, though, really, it shouldn't be such a surprise. Azriel is a force to be reckoned with, honed over decades, and the Spymaster of the Night Court. You know these things. The company he keeps makes sense.

Somehow... still, seeing them all together leaves you strikingly speechless. The legion that protects your home — a family.

Rhysand greets you first, dapper in his dark attire, his violet eyes equal parts calculating and welcoming as he steps forward and offers his hand.

Despite the fact you have never bowed to him before, you still have to repress the urge. His power is overwhelming, the very night lapping at his edges and you're suddenly very grateful to be meeting him as a friend and not as a foe.

"It's a pleasure to meet you," Rhysand's voice purrs out, soft as silk. When you place your hand in his, he brings it to his lips and presses a polite kiss to the back of your hand.

"Any friend of Azriel's is a friend of mine."

You can feel your own heart thundering in your chest. Azriel hovers behind you, his presence soothing in itself. You can't see it but his wings are outstretched towards you, cocooning around you ever so slightly. A shadow hovers behind your shoulder, just out of sight.

"I— the pleasure is mine, my Highlord." You manage to make yourself speak.

You almost wish you hadn't when your words inspire a burst of laughter from one of the others behind Rhysand, the other Illyrian. He's tall, his hair dark but longer than your mate's own.

As your hand is dropped, Rhysand turns to scowl at the Male laughing, and you only grow further perplexed when he gives a whack against the other's shoulder. They begin to squabble for a moment — and you don't even hear Azriel move until he's speaking, his lips right by your ear.

"You'll have to forgive Cassian." His voice is low, raspy in a way that sends a zing down your spine. You shiver lightly. "He can be well-mannered at the best of times. But I promise he isn't laughing at you."

The two Males seem to tune back into Azriel's words, even though they had been whispered for you specifically.

"It's true!" The Illyrian, Cassian you now know, pipes up. He brandishes a devilishly handsome grin at you, with his hands held up in defense. "I apologise. It just still makes me laugh to see someone address this one so formally."

You blink. "But... he is the Highlord."

Azriel speaks again, bent over still to talk in your ear, but much less of a whisper this time. "Rhys is our Highlord but he does not bother with such formalities."

"And," Cassian interjects, lugging a punch into Rhy's shoulder, much like the other had done to him not a moment before. "Before he was the o'mighty Highlord, he was our friend."

Cassian says the word o'mighty with such an air of sarcasm that you can't help but glance at Rhys, sure he wouldn't take such disrespect. But around you, there are only easy grins.

"Might we move to somewhere more comfortable than the doorway," Azriel speaks up from behind you, his voice dry. "Unless that is, you're all hoping to do one-on-one greetings with her?"

There it is, the dry sense of humour you've come to adore. The group before you seems to grumble, as if they were quite keen on the one-on-one meetings but begin to move through the house.

One of the group dips back to walk beside you and you do your best not to repeat your past mistakes, even as your eyes widen almost comically. Azriel chuckles silently to himself, feeling your polite astonishment down the bond.

"It's so great to finally meet you.” Feyre, your Highlady greets you, her pretty face rife with glee. She seems genuinely very happy to make your acquaintance. "Azriel has told me all about you."

You stumble in surprise, your eyes casting back to Azriel behind the pair of you. His eyes are fixed on Feyre, narrowed at her blatant betrayal, his shadows swirling around him. She sticks her tongue out at him playfully and you smother a laugh.

When his eyes shift over to you, you're positively delighted at how his cheeks have turned the lightest shade of ruby.

"Feyre is very persuasive when she wants to be." He murmurs, almost grumbling. You turn back to the Highlady and she grins at you, devious and captivating all at once.

It’s a whirlwind once you reach one of the many living rooms, each member of Azriel’s family all very eager to shake your hand.

Cassian grips it firm, his grin still on the side of wicked as he tells you he’s been waiting years to find the woman who could contain Azriel. Nesta, his mate as you find out, is a fierce kind of pretty with a grip as strong as Cassian’s. She tells you welcome to the family with the smile of a shark.

Morrigon is next, breathtakingly gorgeous, and every bit as charismatic as Azriel had described. You don't catch the glimpse between Mor and Cassian, not the beat of relief they both feel at your arrival in their lives— in Azriel's life.

It's swallowed up in her words, going a mile a minute. She jumps about, like popcorn in a pan, overly keen to finally speak to the one whom the Mother deemed worthy of Azriel’s heart. Where are you from? What do you do? How did you meet?

“Mor,” Azriel warns, after her twelfth consecutive question about your life. He hasn’t moved from his protective position behind you, close enough you can feel the heat of his body. His wings had brushed your shoulder just once.

“Yeah, Mor,” Rhys jeers. He nudges his cousin in the side playfully and Cassian snickers behind the group. “Give the girl some time to breathe.”

Even with all of Azriel's masterclass on who you would be meeting, it's still terribly overwhelming just trying to keep track of them all. They're each such strong spirits, each with seemingly a thousand battles in their past and far more years with Azriel.

On top of this is the fact you met both your Highlord and Highlady so casually in one single afternoon. It's difficult to not be daunted by the group that is so clearly intertwined with each other on a deeper level altogether— bonded by devastation and choosing each other through love.

Try as you might, you can feel the seed of doubt, of insecurity, make a home between your ribs.

You clamp down the shields you've spent the last few weeks learning, building the wall up and holding it tight. It's silly to feel dismayed because these Fae, these friends, know your mate better than you do.

Azriel had told you he had been waiting for you for five hundred years. For the first time since you've met him, you wonder if he was ever disappointed.

And then— then, you see it.

Azriel's hand on Cassian's arm. Then the half embrace they share, a hand on each other's neck as Cassian grins, wild and fierce, and presses his forehead against Azriel's own; brothers, sharing a moment of euphoria at the other finding his long-deserved happiness.

You should be soaking in the smile Azriel hides from you too often, showing his teeth and crinkling his eyes. But instead, you can't see past it, can't stop the loop in your own mind as it prints a fact over and over and over.

It isn't an Azriel thing; it's a you thing.

He doesn't touch you.

The mental walls in your mind feel paper-thin as a fresh kind of agony ripples through your chest. The soft rejection of a mate stings, a papercut on your very heart. You can feel it warble through you and know, terribly, the exact moment that Azriel feels it too.

His head whips around, his dark shadows that surround him suddenly spinning and flitting faster than before— a couple dive across the room to you.

You stand up and the chair scrapes noisily beneath you.

"I—" You say before you realise you haven't planned an exit or an excuse in the slightest. Azriel's gaze burns into you. You turn to Feyre instead, who had been talking across from you when you rudely stood up.

"I'm so sorry, I just—" Some excuse, any excuse! "I think I— left the stove on."

It's a lie. A complete utter lie that fools no one in the room as you retreat from it hastily. None of them try to stop you though, which you're thankful for. Each of them watches, every expression slightly concerned as you hurry out of the room, your feet walking backward rapidly until you bump into the door frame.

You pass through it with your eyes on the floor, knowing that all of the eyes are on you. You know the ones you can feel searing into your soul are Azriel's.

You leave the River House. You walk along the Sidra, your steps hurried and your chin tucked low. It hurts. It hurts the feeling inside you. A tear streaks down your cheek, unbidden, and collects on your jaw. You wipe it away meanly.

The sight of your apartment door is an overwhelming comfort, one that has you sighing aloud as you rush up to it, your fingers already digging around in your pockets for your key.

And like always, you never hear him coming.

"What happened?" Azriel asks, his voice almost pained.

You give a little yelp of surprise and whip around, remembering half a second later that there's still evidence on your face of your tears. Azriel grows characteristically still, his hazel eyes fixed on yours as you sniffle for a moment, aggravation beginning to creep in.

He could feel everything from you and you got... what? Whatever he deemed fit to offer? How is that fair?

His usually wispy shadows are inkier than usual, almost tornado-ing around his shoulders. They keep leaping out towards you before being caught in an invisible net, a barrier between you and them.

Even as Azriel remains motionless, his eyes are the opposite—they jump around, searching, hunting, begging to find the cause of your pain. Had it been one of his friends?

"Please," He tries his words again.

His heart throbs painfully when you finally find your key and turn your back on him without a word, unlocking your door and pressing your way inside. He follows quickly, wings tucked in tight, unable to keep his shadows at his side this time. They whiz to you, circling your ankles protectively.

"Please," Azriel says, an anguished growl to his words. "What hurt you? I will— my friends, if they said something— if it was someone, I hunt them down and make it right for you."

You inhale sharply and when you speak, your tone is cold in a way you have never used before with Azriel. You say the words without thinking.

"It would be impossible to hunt yourself, Azriel."

Regret howls through you like a hurricane the moment you say the words. You don't mean to be mean, jealous, or whatever unseemly emotion you can't stop from sprouting in your chest, growing in size, tangling into your heartstrings like twisted gnarled vines. It hurts.

You turn back to him, mouth open. No words come out.

Hurt is slashed across his face, his eyebrows furrowed tightly, his shadows tucked in tight. It's as though he's blended into the very air, the wispy edge of him threatening to retreat into his own shadows.

All his emotions on display just for a moment, before they're schooled away. Tucked away, hidden, not for you to see.

Inside, your hurricane howls again, this time in pain.

You can tell he feels it, even as you mentally gather your bricks. It isn't fair. How can he have every bit of you and you get what he pleases to return?

You want to know him completely, want to see every part of his rugged, weathered soul, and love him anyway. It's an untold type of agony to have him deny you.

"My love," His feet finally move, his wings almost dragging on the floor as he steps forward, slowly, as though he was afraid he might spook you.

"Tell me how to fix this pain." He pleads. His gloved hands are held out, palms up and suddenly, he looks nothing like a warrior. Just a Male, afraid of losing what is most dear to him. You shake your head, like a child, and keep building your brick wall.

"Please don’t keep this from me," He takes another step forward, his shadows sent awry as they dart across to you. You can feel them on your calves, on your arms, feel the tiny kisses they leave. Azriel speaks again, voice low. "My love, I can feel your pain.”

You can't help how you screw your eyes closed, the ache in your chest unbearable— made worse when you know he can feel it too.

"That is my problem." You utter the words quietly, eyes still clenched shut, knowing he can hear you. He takes another step, close enough now that you can feel the heat of his enormous frame, his wings bracketing around you. "I cannot hide anything from you."

Azriel makes a noise, a punched-out wounded sound that reverberates down the bond.

"My love," He murmurs for the third time. Down the bond, you can feel his sweet love, his golden gentle feelings travelling along to assure you. "I would not wish for you to hide anything from me."

“But you hide everything from me." You whine, eyes finally crinkling open. Azriel stares down at you, his eyes softer than they've ever been. You can see the hurt swimming in them, the hurt you've caused. Still, you speak.

"You hide your emotions. You hide your touch, yet you give it willingly to your friends." You share each ugly thought with him, whispered as you gaze into his face to search for your answers.

Lifting your hands, you curl your fingers around his wrists tentatively. Azriel swallows heavily, his eyes dancing down to where you're touching him. You slide your hands forward, dragging the pads of your fingers over his pulse, along his palm, til your hands are holding his gloved ones.

"Is there some test I don't know about?" You ask, your focus on your intertwined hands. "Is there— do I have to earn this?"

"No," Azriel chokes out the word suddenly. You look up at him. He clears his throat and you feel his hands grip yours back, surer and stronger than you had. "No, I'm sorry. There is no test, nothing to prove you deserving of this. I just..."

His words trail off and you watch as he closes his eyes, inhaling deeply, as if gathering his courage. His hands slide from yours, pulled backward and you nearly feel the urge to cry once more— before you realise he's removing his gloves.

The skin of them is warped, you realise acutely with horror. The skin of his hands is swirled and mottled, an injury long healed but scarred for eternity. Azriel is watching your face closely, holding his hands close to his chest as though he was prepared to hide them away at the first flicker of fear.

You're grateful for the link between and all your shoddy attempts at blocking him out. Your love and your unwavering devotion drifts along the bond.

Azriel shudders, his wings giving the tiniest shiver. Slowly, gently, he reaches out towards you. You feel his hands, the unruly scarred feel of his skin sliding along your jaw to hold it tenderly. He has never held you like this before.

He cradles your face gently — like his hands have never held weapons of war, like they aren't twisted and marred with a memory he can't forget, like they're worthy of holding something so precious.

Azriel holds you as if you're holy — and he's come to kneel at your altar.

"I was afraid of what you would think." He admits. His voice is hoarse, gravelly as he fights off the lump in his throat. "I— on the first day we met, I felt your fear along the bond and—"

"It was not of you." You interrupt him, your hands jumping up to cover his own where they hold you. Azriel inhales sharply, eyes darting to watch.

But you pay him no heed, the palm of your hand covering his like a lover would. You let your thumb soothe up at down the ridges of his skin. You let your love ripple along the bond.

"It was not fear of you, Azriel." You repeat, your voice soft. His eyes are still fixed on your joined hands. His wings have begun to pick up, no longer drooping behind his back— you're not sure if he even notices.

"It was fear for how strongly I already felt for you." You lean into his hand and Azriel lets you, lets the length of your nose nuzzle into the touch of his hands — something no one in all his years of living had ever done before.

"It was fear that you already could ruin me," The words are murmured. "And that I would let you."

You whisper his name to pull his wide-eyed gaze from where his hands touch you and his hazel eyes burn into yours. Every whitened scar on his skin, every eyelash, the adorable pinch between his eyebrows; you drink it all in and smile at him. Azriel, your mate.

"Azriel, I chose this despite that fear. I choose you.”

Azriel quivers at the words, at your unflinching tone and suddenly the world seems such a perfect place, time moving around you, untouching, with such a perfect grace.

“I choose you too,” He murmurs, an emotion so strong a fire of possessiveness streaks down the bond. This time, you can feel his wall melt away, allowing you access to all he feels — his mountain of fear and his melting relief.

“Forgive me—” He begins and you laugh without meaning to, cutting him off.

“Stop,” you say, the word light and as pretty as your grin. “We keep doing this to ourselves, tying ourselves in knots over and over.”

Azriel laughs, his lips twitching into a smile as he allows himself to stroke his thumb lovingly over your cheek. The way you melt beneath it, your lashes fluttering and heart burning so brightly he can feel it in his own chest too— Azriel knows this longing will long outlive his body.

“We do,” He agrees. He dips his head a little lower, probably the only apology you’ll let him have, and inhales shakily. His hands shift across your face, down to hold your chin, his fingers pressed together tightly to hide the way they quiver.

“Then let me apologise in another way,” He murmurs, his voice closer to playful. “In a way I’ve been selfishly depriving you of.”

And when he kisses you, it’s with a reverence that softens all your corners.

His lips are plush and sweet, and with the way he dedicates himself to your bottom lip, you can’t help how you sigh into his mouth. He finds home in the curve of your mouth.

It’s delirious the way he kisses once, twice, three times like he’s hungry for something found only in your lips.

Your hands stagger forward, leaving his own to wind over around his neck. Your fingers curl up, raking through the hair on the nape of his neck — feeling the shiver that travels up his spine, his wings giving a little flare out.

He kisses you breathless, one hand abandoning your jaw to wrap snugly around your waist, bringing you closer to him.

When he pulls back, something within you glows molten gold at the panting that leaves his lips. He’s gazing at you, his hazel eyes alight in a way you haven’t quite seen before. His wings shift behind his shoulders, curling forward to wrap the two of you together, not quite touching.

Your heart thrills. You grin, your lips still just an inch apart as Azriel nudges forward, his own twitching in that way when he fights his smile. His lips brush yours, his smile barely held back.

“Have you forgiven me yet?” He says, sweet and low, allowing the smile to finally pull his pretty mouth up at the corners.

“Or should I make it up to you a little more?”

He kisses the corner of your mouth, chaste and gentle.

“Mmm,” your eyes are bright as they peer up at him, full of playful mirth and adoring affection. “You're forgiven but... I think you should make it up to me, just a little more.”

Azriel willingly obliges, his smile as sweet as the moonlight.

—

some people i thought might want to be tagged :)

@strangerstilinski @astoriaviviane @lana08 @florence-end @lportes-22 @torrick17 @florencemtrash @sidthedollface2 @seafrost-fangirl @goldenmagnolias @jeweline16 @meshellexplosionmurder @michellexgriffey @susiekern @toobsessedsstuff @fxckmiup @littlebookbengal @elenapril0502 @glitterypirateduck @hnyclover @technoelfie @itsapunklife @coffeecares

#it got very long... i'm sorry!#we can't talk about bad miscommunication and then me not set up valid reasons for miscommunication tho #i can't DO IT #azriel a big softie in this one...#i mean he always is :)#azriel #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x reader #azriel shadowsinger x reader #azriel x you #azriel fanfic #azriel acotar #acotar #acotar fanfiction #azriel hurt/comfort #miscommunication #idiots in luv <3 #i need a writing tag.....

2K notes · View notes

magnagaruzenmon · 2 months ago

Text

Awkward I

Ugh why is she so hot??

Dino sits in his apartment, eyes locked on the glowing screen of his TV as he guides his character through a swarm of zombies in Dead Island 2. The sounds of bloody carnage—groans, grunts, and the splatter of gore—fill the room, blending into the low hum of the evening. You push the door open cautiously, trying not to interrupt his focus, but the creak of the hinge gives you away. Dino doesn’t flinch, though; his fingers twitch on the controller, his attention unwavering.

“Hey, big bro,” you start, stepping further into the room.

Dino pauses the game mid-swing, freezing a gruesome scene in place. The room goes quieter, save for the faint hum of the game music. He finally swivels his head toward you, his expression calm but mildly curious.

“Yeah?”

“I’m going out,” you say casually, leaning against the back of the couch. “You know...for that thing. The one with the app.” You try to sound indifferent, but your voice betrays a touch of nervousness.

Dino’s eyes narrow slightly. “Oh, so Chaeyoung called you again for another booty call,” he says bluntly, his tone dripping with nonchalance. The words hit like a slap, and you feel the heat rushing to your cheeks. He always has this way of cutting through your careful phrasing.

Your blush deepens, and Dino smirks, his eyes now fully focused on you. “Just tell her you like her and start dating already. This is, what, the fifth call this week?”

He’s not wrong, but you’re not about to admit that. “It’s not like that,” you mumble, crossing your arms defensively. “We just...have a good thing going on, and I don’t want to make it weird.”

Dino leans back into the couch, his expression turning thoughtful. “Look, I get it,” he says after a beat. “You don’t want to screw up whatever balance you think you’ve got going. But you’re gonna have to address your feelings sometime.”

You open your mouth to argue, but his gaze sharpens as he continues, cutting off your protest. “I see how you look at her. How you talk about her. You fawn over that girl like she hung the stars in the sky. And at some point, if you keep holding it in, it’s gonna bubble over. Either you let it out, or it’s gonna come out on its own. And trust me, that second option? Way messier.”

He gestures toward the TV, a zombie’s frozen face forever mid-scream. “Kind of like this. If you don’t get ahead of it, things can get ugly fast.”

You glance at the screen, then back at Dino. His point isn’t lost on you, but it’s not that simple. “I just don’t want to ruin what we have,” you admit quietly.

Dino softens, his smirk fading into something more genuine. “If it’s real, it won’t ruin anything. But hey,” he adds, shrugging as he grabs his controller again, “what do I know? I’m just the guy killing zombies in his living room. Now go. She’s probably waiting.”

He unpauses the game, and the carnage resumes. You stand there for a moment longer, his words echoing in your head, before finally turning to leave. Before you go however you decide to throw a wrench in his mind,

“Oh Dino one more thing,” you start.

Dino turns to you confused, “you know Momo has a crush on you,” you say as you head out knowing he’ll be spiraling the whole night about it.

You arrive at Chaeyoung’s apartment and the heat in your body is palpable as you enter.

Chaeyoung is happy to see you as she closes in on you.

“How is my favorite baby girl,” she coos as she brings you in for a passionate smooch, things quickly heat up as she leads you into her room. Her fingers loop around and your waist as she lowers her hands down through your shorts to your ass. She kisses you as she massages your supple cheeks.

As this kiss deepens so does your mutual lust. Chaeyoung smiles and says, “I missed you baby girl,” you moan as her body grinds against yours and the heat between you two becomes unbearable. You are the first one to strip. You tear off your clothes in a fiery passion as Chaeyoung gazes over you hungry no starved. She smiles at you wickedly.

You crawl to her as she brings you in for another ragged and rapacious kiss. She smiles in between them saying, “my baby girl is so hot. She says as she playfully paws at your breasts. You moan as she gropes you but before the two of you can really get into it your desire for greater intimacy gnaws at you, and you stop and ask

“What are we?”

#k pop smut #kpop fanfic #kpop smut #fromis 9 smut #Fromis 9 Chaeyoung #chaeyoung smut #Chaeyoung Lee x fem reader

187 notes · View notes

short-honey-badger · 1 month ago

Text

Of Dragons and Red Strings

*note. This dragon is Safi'jiva from Monster Hunter World. He was my reference I used for Shanks

Pairing! Shanks x Female Reader

Summary: Humans have soulmates. Yours just so happens to be a fire breathing dragon named Shanks.

Masterlist for Shamrock and Shanks-> HERE

Shanks wouldn’t say that he lived a lonely life, per say, he had his brother - not that the other dragon wanted much to do with his little brother - but he at least had company. Not that Shamrock was very good company, considering the other dragon lived on the other side of the island, content to sleep his days away on top of his hoard. Shanks preferred to sunbathe under the sun, warming his red scales and tan underbelly. Sometimes, he would even leave the island that they called home, spreading his massive wings to explore the realm that he lived within.

Today happened to be one of those days. Shanks had flown for hours, going further than he had ever before. There was a pull, a tug against his heart that urged him onward, and Shanks had been powerless in the face of it. He wasn’t sure what it was, but he had felt it grow ever stronger for the past couple of years, and the beast wanted to find out. He flapped his wings, pushing him closer and closer to wherever the pull was leading him.

Shanks circled the island below, knowing instinctively that this is where the pull has been leading him. He dives down, a loud, echoing roar ripping from his gullet as the wind slides past him. At the last second, he snapped his wings open, his body casting a shadow against the beach where he could see a tiny figure near the crashing waves. He lands with a heavy thud, kicking up sand and sending it flying everywhere.

The wyrm dropped his great head, golden-hued eyes landing on the tiny figure that hadn’t moved even from his harsh landing. He snaked forward, shoulders bunching and great wings tucking against his back. He stops but a couple of feet away from the human, nostrils flaring wide as he breathes in their scent. Shanks can tell that they are female and mature in age. She does not back down when he inches closer, golden eyes curious as he takes her in.

Shanks blinks when she reaches out a hand, and he wiggles forward without a thought, the tip of his nose pressing against her hand. He felt a shudder go through his body at her, as though something was settling within his being. As if a piece of himself had finally slotted back into place. A voice, unknown but known at the same time, echoes within his head.

“A dragon is a surprise, but I’m not mad about it.”

Shanks jerks back in surprise at the voice, golden eyes going wide and neck bending in an arch as he looks down at the human.

“WHAT?”

He watches you wince and clutch your forehead, and he can't help but hunker down, feeling bad for hurting someone so obviously connected with him.

“It's okay. You're just a little loud. Can you tell me your name?”

Shanks makes a conscious effort to lower the internal voice in his head and lowers himself down into the sand, his frilled jaw resting on his knuckles.

“Shanks.”

He nuzzles forward, his nostrils flaring as he breathes the woman in. You smell like sweet honey and sharp fruit. Like the sky when he soars far above the clouds, simple and delightful.

“You smell good.”

His human, for he knew in his hearts that this one belonged to him, tossed her head back and laughed, loud and long. It was the most beautiful sound Shanks had ever heard. His throat vibrates, a low rumbling sound that echoes across the beach. To his delight, his purr only makes his human laugh even more, her eyes lighting up in delight as she reaches for him.

You were tiny compared to him, and Shanks was sure that one of his teeth was longer than one of your legs, but you were fearless in the face of his vicious visage. The purring grew louder when your hands found the tip of his nose, his thick, steel-like scales soaking up the miniscule amount of heat he could feel coming from your palms. He felt you smooth your hands across his face, fingers dipping into each ridge and bump as you mapped him out.

“Careful,” Shanks intones, and feels prideful when his voice doesn’t boom in their shared mindspace, “My horns are sharp.”

Shanks watches you curl your hands along the smallest spikes near his jaw, shivering when you trail your hands up and gently press your fingertip to the sharp point. He can smell the blood as soon as you press down, your flesh breaking easily. He wants to apologize and demand if you are okay, but he does not smell any pain within your scent and so forces the urge down.

“So, do you have any idea about what’s going on here?”

Shanks can hear amusement in your voice, but he doesn’t feel like you are making fun of him. He tracks you, big golden eyes locked on your form as you circle back to the front of his snout.

“I was hoping that you could explain.” He rumbles and feels himself begin to relax even more under your soft, exploratory touch. How Shanks had gone so long without this, he would never know.

“Hmm. Well, for us humans, when we are born, our souls are split in half, given to the one who matches us best. As we age, we begin to feel a pull, and if that pull is significantly powerful, a red string might appear to lead us to our other half. Most of the time, our other half is another human, so color me surprised when you turned out to be a dragon.”

Shanks perks up and carefully shifts so that he can lift his head, tilting it to the side as he regards you.

“So that is the pull that I have been feeling for so long? I tried to follow it before, but until now, it was always too weak.”

He drops his head back down and nuzzles forward, pressing his nose into your body and inhaling your scent deeply. His entire begging trembles, and his eyes blaze when he opens them back up.

“I’m glad I found you. What is your name?”

His human laughs again, her arms wrapping as tight as they could across his face, and you bend down to press your brow against his warm scales.

“_. I’m glad you found me, too.”

Shanks feels something inside of him warm up and shift, and suddenly, he feels like he is being crammed inside a body far too small. He rears back, fearful that he will somehow hurt you, only to fall back into the sand on two unsteady legs. Shanks blinks his eyes open and finds himself looking up at you. You blink right back down at him, cheeks going pink at the sight of a very handsome but very naked redhead.

He looks down at himself and finds tan, human flesh in place of brilliant red scales. Long human legs and fingers and toes. Shanks scrambles to the ocean, body still learning how to work its new form, and looks into the clear water of the bay. Shaggy red hair and golden eyes stare back at him.

Shanks whips back around and stares at you. He thinks he should be panicking, but he can’t seem to find the emotion. Instead, his being simply feels right, as if he has always been able to change into a human.

“I didn’t think dragons could do that,” You say and crouch in front of your wide-eyed soulmate, reaching out to comb his hair away from his face.

Shanks grabs for your hand, marveling at how soft you are, before he grins up at you, face feeling foreign but not bad.

“Me either. Guess we’re a special case, huh?” He says, voice low and scratchy from its first time in use. His grin widens when you laugh and settle in the sand with him, heedless of his naked body.

“Seems like it,” you drawl, and Shanks stills in confusion when your hands cup his face. You lean in close, your smile turning soft as you turn him this way and that. “But now I can do this.”

With that, you close the distance and press your lips to his own in a simple kiss. Shanks finds himself closing his eyes and pressing back into the embrace, quickly learning the best way to move his mouth against yours for it to feel good. He raises his arms and wraps them around you, tugging you into his lap as he falls back into the sand and taking you with him. Their joining might be new and unusual, but they had all the time in the world to figure it out. Shanks just hoped his brother wouldn’t mind another living on their island.

@mfreedomstuff @sanjisleggy @mit-suri @nocturnalrorobin @forever-a-night-owl @sordidmusings @shanks-is-a-daddy

#one piece #reader insert #one piece x reader #shanks x reader #red haired shanks #shanks #dragon au #red haired shanks x reader #dragon shanks #mythical creatures

159 notes · View notes

vanishingstarrs · 11 months ago

Text

pancakes for dinner ( k bakugo x nurse!reader, pro hero era, established relationship, just soft and pure vibes, down bad bakugo aka my boyfie fr, slight smut at the end, NSFW, minors DNI ) ( guysss i’ve been so sick and i’ve been suffering having to work still bc #hispanic we ain’t eva allowed to call out )): i’ve been wanting to write please please please x bakugo but haven’t had the energy, meantime hope y’all enjoy this little fic <3 just wholesome mushy stuff for y’all but then it turned smutty at the end because why not lol also i’m pretty new to writing explicitly so pls lmk how it came out !! idk if i'll do that again lmao we shall see i guess )

You were exhausted.

Mentally and physically.

Work had been a tad overwhelming lately, with extra things being piled onto your already heavy workload after a big merger between two of Japan’s biggest hospitals, which in turn caused a lot of people to be let go. Not only had it been stressful wondering whether you’d make the cut or not after a “re-interview”, but when you learned that you had been accepted you’d also been asked if you could take on a few extra duties.

You had never been one to back down from work, always taking initiative and being happy to help any one of your coworkers that might need it.

Lately though, it seemed every single person needed help. Your coworkers, your patients, and if it wasn’t those two then it was your boss asking if you could help her with management duties that had nothing to do with the extra work you’d been assigned to do on top of everything else.

You were sick and tired.

Your muscles cried out as you pushed your apartment door open and immediately kicked off your shoes, groaning as you bent down in order to place them onto the shoe stand. You were sure you heard your back crack as you stood straight once more to hang your purse and keys.

You didn’t bother unpacking the lunch you never got time to eat, leaving the bag you packed it in tied up and in the fridge before heading into your bedroom and immediately shedding your scrubs. You hated doing skincare, but thought about how dirty your face must be after dealing with so many patients and dragged yourself into the bathroom to get it over with.

By the time you were finished doing everything, your body was begging you to lay down for just a minute.

A little power nap never hurt, you told yourself as you fell onto your bed face first and sighed. You hugged your pillow to your aching body and allowed yourself to relax for just a little while.

Though “a minute” quickly turned into three hours as the sun went down and the night sky pulled you further into dreamland.

You didn’t hear the front door open or close, you didn’t stir when your boyfriend started removing his hero equipment, much less wake when those heavy gauntlets he somehow wore all day hit the floor or when his pounding footsteps carried across the hardwood as he made his way to your shared bedroom to check on you.

You missed the brief smirk on his face as he found you lying on his side of the bed, on your right side with a leg propped up for comfort.

Katsuki knew how hard you’d been working lately with the merger between the two hospitals and how stressed it made you. With him working as a hero, he encountered many people that wound up needing to go to the hospital. On top of that, you also had all the other sick people that hadn’t been involved in some villain attack. You likely dealt and saved more people in a single day than he did in a month, he knew this, he was proud of the fact, actually, and incredibly proud of you.

He was damn lucky to have you.

And for all these reasons, he was happy to see you rest for a bit.

He’d often come home late and find that you’d already done all the cleaning around the house, as well as meal prep for both you and him, and still found the time to bake desert on top of making him dinner. You went above and beyond in all aspects of your life, often even calling and checking up on his parents when he hadn’t done so in too long. He’d receive texts from his mother scolding him and making sure he was taking good care of you the way she knew you did him, he swore you were the favorite and he understood why you were.

Everyone loved you.

He adored you.

Except he hadn’t been doing his part as well as he should be lately.

And so, while you slept, he quietly changed into some loungewear before carefully shutting the bedroom door closed behind him.

He tried his hardest to be quiet as he went around cleaning up throughout the house, he swept, he steam mopped the floors (and prayed he didn’t miss a spot), he did your laundry, took your work shoes and scrubbed them clean for your next workday, he took your old lunch and tossed it out before setting to work on preparing you something delicious for tomorrow.

Being in the kitchen was actually soothing for him, he liked being able to experiment with recipes and different things for you to try. He hated that he hadn’t made the time to recently. He cooked enough dinner to pack lunch for both you and him, then last minutely decided that you’d definitely want something sweet when you woke up and pulled out the ingredients to make pancakes from scratch.

You liked it best when you had pancakes for dinner, not breakfast.

He was extremely pleased when they turned out light and fluffy just the way you liked them and he set out to cut up some fruit for you to put on top, making sure everything was ready before heading back to your shared room.

Katsuki was less quiet this time around, as he slid into bed next to you. He propped himself up on his elbow as he buried his fingers into your hair and gently scratched your scalp.

You were exhausted, and likely wouldn’t have woken up if not for him leaning over and placing kisses from your neck all the way up to your ear. You felt his hot breath as he whispered for you to please wake up, which made you groan softly.

You’d yet to open your eyes, but who else would it be? You asked,“Katsuki?”

“Made you food, baby, c’mon, I saw you didn’t eat your lunch, you gotta put somethin’ in your belly.” He explained as he removed his hand from your hair and lifted the material of your shirt to rub up and down your stomach, you felt him inch closer to your chest before stopping himself and tugging your tank top back down to your waist.

You turned toward him, quickly finding the divet in between his shoulder and neck to plant your face in. You were barely awake, not really comprehending what he was trying to say.

“Missed you.” You relaxed further into him.

“Missed you so much, sweets.” You felt him kiss your forehead,“Hate to pull you from bed, but you really gotta open your eyes for me.”

You did as he asked, smiling as his face came into view, lit up by the soft light streaming in from the hallway. “Hi, honey.” You managed to get out as he smushed your cheeks (cuteness aggression) and placed three kisses onto your nose.

You grinned as he said hi back and repeated that he’d cooked for you.

You beamed, you hadn’t had his cooking in a while, but didn’t exactly make a move to get up from bed. It wasn’t until he revealed that he’d made you pancakes, that had you up in seconds.

He chuckled as he followed you down the hall, lightly smacking your butt as you happily made your way through the apartment. You turned to him with surprise,“You cleaned too?”

“Course.” He scoffed as he tugged on your hand and sat you down at your small table that sat four people max. “I’d do it more if you didn’t always beat me to everything, I was thinking I should be doing a bit more around here anyway.”

“I can handle it.” You said, like always.

He rolled his eyes as he brought over the plate he’d prepared for you.

“I didn’t say you couldn’t, I’m just saying you don’t have to give a hundred percent every day, you know? You could give me thirty and I’d be more than happy to give the remaining seventy.” He began to explain,“I wanna take care of you too, and that starts by you not doing everything.”

You silently watched him cut up your pancakes before placing some fruit onto them and drizzling maple syrup all over, he gave you tea to drink and pulled his chair closer to you while you ate.

He ran his fingers through your hair again as you told him all about your day before asking about his and what time he’d gotten home. He let you feed him a couple bites of food and you snagged a few extra kisses each time you lied and told him he had syrup on his face.

When you finished, he asked if you’d like a bit of real food, claiming he wanted you nice and full. You agreed, happy to eat what he’d prepared.

You were less tired now, satisfied with your belly full and sitting with your lover as he recalled a story about retrieving someone’s lost kitten in a tree. You laughed at the classic save and felt your mental load becoming lighter the more the minutes went on.

After eating, the pampering continued.

Katsuki demanded you allow him to run you a bath, and he quickly made the bathroom up with a few candles. He set up a movie for you to watch on your laptop as he came into the room with you and offered to wash your hair. You requested he get in with you then, and he obliged quickly, taking his time when it came to massaging his hands through your hair and pressing kisses against your back at every opportunity. He held you against his chest as you relaxed into him.

You honestly started to get sleepy again.

And then it was ripped away from you once more as Katsuki led you to bed, not to sleep, but to have you spread out against the mattress for him to plaster his tongue against you and demand he get his dinner now.

“Wanna take care of you.” He’d said.

He quickly had you squirming and writhing underneath his touch and the feel of his fingers inside as he worked you until completion. He sung you praises about how hard you’d been working lately, telling you how you deserved this and more, as well as making sure you knew how good you always did for him.

“One more, baby.” He begged.

One more turned into two then three, and by the time he finally lined himself up to your entrance you were spent. He worshipped your body, kneading your breasts and holding one of your hands back so you couldn’t hide how flushed your face had become from not just his compliments, but from the way he fucked you.

“Katsuki,” You moaned,“Close.” Again.

“Cum with me, baby, please.”

The movement of his hips was starting to get sloppy, but neither of you noticed through the haze. He whined in your ear as you latched onto his back with your hands and wrapped your legs around his waist, your walls squeezed him and he moaned one last time as he got lost in euphoria. He didn’t make a move to remove himself as he pressed his sweaty forehead against your own and kissed your cheek and then your neck and then your collarbone, making a line all the way down to your bellybutton.

He occupied himself with making sure you stayed awake despite your eyes being closed as you attempted to catch your breath, he sucked hard enough to leave a few marks along your chest and before you knew it you started to feel him become hard inside of you again.

Your eyes snapped open as you gave him a look.

Katsuki smirked as he rubbed your hip and stole your mouth briefly,“Gotta make sure you’re nice and full, baby, one more time f’me, please?”

“You’re insatiable.” You told him.

And yet, how could you say no to him when he looked at you that way?

It was a good thing you’d taken that nap earlier, especially now that your body would soon be aching for a different reason.

#bnha #boku no hero academia #mha #my hero academia #bakugo katsuki #katsuki bakugo #bakugo katsuki x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugo katsuki smut #katsuki bakugo smut #mha smut #ʕ•́ᴥ•̀ʔっ #vanishingstarrs

638 notes · View notes

oh-theseus · 1 year ago

Text

bloody stones

pairing: astarion x gn!reader, astarion x gn!tav summary: you nearly die and astarion still can't bring himself to be honest with you. word count: 4,018 a/n: first time trying to write for astarion (or just bg3 in general) & i'm not sure it came out how i wanted it to, BUT i hope you guys enjoy it nonetheless <333 i kind of wrote this to be like a background for a future thing i think... but no promises bc i am anything if not inconsistent 😭

warnings: descriptions of blood & injury, canon typical violence, mentions of past abuse. lmk if i should add more!

You were fairly certain you had never been as close to death as you currently were. Even while trapped inside of the nautiloid ship, you had felt like you would make it out. Granted, that might have been because you thought Lae’zel was going to kill you if you died, but still. Even then, on a ship that was actively crashing from hundreds of miles in the sky, you’d thought you’d make it out.

That hope is nowhere to be found as Z’rell drives her ax into your lower leg. You have been injured in battle dozens of times but this is the first time your injury has ever made you fall to your knees within three seconds of receiving it. There is next to no pain at first, but then she pulls her ax from your leg, and it feels like… well, like your leg was just split open.

Blood gushes down your leg, and you can’t stand up again, but by the grace of one of the gods, you manage to block her next attack. Her ax meets the blade of your sword with a loud clang that you can hear over the sounds of other blades clashing and spells being conjured. Anger blazes in Z’rell’s eyes and she surges her weapon further with as much strength as she can muster. You met her with the same effort, but you’re losing so much blood so fast. You’re not nearly as strong as she is.

A noise that is somewhere between a cry and a grunt falls from your lips. But you are certain this is it. You’ll die here. In Moonrise Towers with a parasite wiggling within your skull. You’ll die in a blighted land and your friends will go on without you. If they survive, that is. You can feel your arms wobbling, about to give out. Her ax will come down on your neck and you’ll sit here choking on your own blood until you die. Maybe she’ll dig the Illithid parasite out of your skull and consume it just as your Dream Guardian had urged you to do so many times before. You doubt Z’rell would have qualms about it though - if fact, she might just keep you alive while she digs around in your skull. She seems like the type.

But then there’s an arrow embedded in Z’rell’s neck. And now she’s the one choking on her blood, her weapon faltering. You don’t have time to be grateful, not when she’s determined to make a killing blow and take you out with her. It takes all of your effort to roll out of the way, her ax bouncing off of the bloody stone floor where your head had just been seconds previous. Your head is spinning from the movement, and your leg feels like dead weight, but you manage to draw your dagger and shove it deep into the disciples stomach.

Z’rell falls to her knees. Then forward, onto her face. Dead.

Hands are underneath your arms, dragging you away from the rest of the battle before you even have time to process that you aren’t dead. You have half a mind to kick and struggle, but when you try to push the hands off of your body you stop your fighting. You know these hands.

“Astarion,” you choke out, tilting your head upwards to see him above you, carefully dragging you behind a turned over table. You can feel a trail of blood being left by your leg; for a moment you wonder if Astarion had smelled your blood before he saw it.

“Don’t talk,” Astarion scolds, propping your back against the table. Blood is splattered on his face and armor, his bow slung across his body. Your eyes shift to his quiver where only three arrows remain. If you weren’t so busy trying not to pass out from blood loss, you might have told him you were right when you’d told him this morning he needed more arrows. But you can hardly convince yourself to breathe, let alone make a joke.

Astarion’s face is twisted into an expression you don’t think you’ve ever seen him wear before. There is determination there as he examines your wound, cursing beneath his breath. There’s concern too. But something else dances in his crimson eyes that makes you tilt your head to the side curiously.

Fear.

Astarion is scared.

“How bad?” you force out, leaning your head back against the overturned table. Your eyes lock on the ceiling of Moonrise. This had been a temple once. Briefly, as you fight to keep your eyes open, you decide that it might’ve even been beautiful.

“Not terrible,” Astarion lies. You know it’s a lie, and he knows you know that, too. You might’ve looked at him, tried to assure him you would be okay if you believed it. But you’re not quite sure that you do, so you keep your eyes on the ceiling, listening to the sounds of battle slowing down behind you.

Astarion stops talking after that. Your silence and sudden interest in the ceiling is enough to make Astarion certain his heart will start beating again just so it can race in fear. But his hands are quick in grabbing a healing potion from your belt and helping you get it down. They’re faster still as he shuffles through his discarded back for cloth to press to your wound.

Blood quickly soaks the white cloth and Astarion’s hands, but the vampire doesn’t mind. He can’t be bothered to think about how potent your blood smells, how easy it would be to just take some for himself. He is certain that if you’d been bleeding out in front of him like this when you first met that he would’ve taken every last drop of blood that he could get. But right now… Astarion wasn’t sure he had ever wanted to puke at the sight of blood more.

Astarion isn’t sure he’s ever felt a panic quite like this before. Perhaps when he’d woken up in a coffin six feet underground. Maybe when he’d realized he was a slave to an evil vampire lord. But other than that? No, Astarion had never felt fear like this. Fear that clutches him by the throat, makes his hands start to tremble. Fear that won’t let him focus on the battle coming to end. Not even to see if his companions - his friends - had survived. All he knows is you, your blood coating his hands, and terror coursing through his entire being.

He’s so consumed by his fear that he doesn’t notice you’ve finally passed out. Nor does he hear Shadowheart approach until she’s shoving Astarion away from you, her hands immediately coming to rest above the gash in your leg. She starts to mutter the words of a healing spell and even Astarion can tell that she’s completely spent, that she’s using her last bit of magic and strength to coax your skin back together.

“Wake them up,” Shadowheart hisses, her eyes still locked on your leg. “Wake them up now, Astarion!”

The near crack in Shadowheart’s voice stirs Astarion from his fear driven stupor. His hands are on your face immediately, your name falling from his lips once, twice. His fingers find the pulsepoint at your neck, and Astarion doesn’t dare to move until he feels it. It’s faint, but it is there.

But your eyes are still closed, and no matter how hard Astarion tries, you will not wake up. You’re still breathing, but it’s hard and labored, and Astarion is certain that if he looks away from you for even a moment you will be gone for good. He didn’t know much, but Astarion did know that a world without you was not one he was willing to return to.

By the grace of… something, Shadowheart manages to mend the skin of your leg. She’s exhausted and can hardly stand by the time she’s finished, but she does it. You’re still out cold, and Astarion is not sure whether to start crying or to find something else to kill to distract himself.

“It’s the blood loss,” Wyll assures him quickly, hauling Shadowheart up from the ground with her arm over his shoulders. “They’ll live. But we need to move them. Now.”

The Blade of Frontiers does not waste another moment, leading Shadowheart across the main floor of Moonrise Towers, down into the basement. Astarion doesn’t hesitate to do the same with you, his blood coated hands holding you so, so carefully.

When you wake up, you’re pretty sure you’re dead. You didn’t know what you expected the afterlife to hold, but it certainly was not a stone floor and the smell of mildew. For a second you think that maybe you could be somewhere else (somewhere where you are not dead) but you can’t think very clearly right now. All you can feel is a distant throbbing in your head and a bone deep cold. Your leg… You could feel your leg. That was good, considering the last thing you could recall before passing out was taking Z’rell’s ax to your shin.

And Astarion. You remembered his familiar grip, pulling you to safety. You remembered his crimson eyes, the fear you’d seen in them. But that was it. You didn’t remember passing out or how light you had felt while blood seeped from your leg. For a moment, it troubles you that you can’t remember. But if this was truly your eternal resting place… maybe it was a good thing you couldn’t remember. You’re not sure that it's really something you’d enjoy dwelling on for the rest of eternity.

You’re not sure how long you lay there. You don’t move your body, and your eyes keep falling closed every once in a while. You feel lightheaded, yet impossibly heavy at the same time. All you can bring yourself to do is stare at the ceiling. Maybe there is a god here, because you’re gifted the memory of doing the very same thing before passing out the first time. And this ceiling looks remarkably similar to the one in Moonrise Towers.

That voice, too. The one you can hear in the distance - almost as if they are shouting for you from the other room. The voice is so similar to…

“Astarion?” You breathe out, your eyes finally shifting away from the ceiling. They fall instead to the person beside you. At first, they’re just a jumble of white curls and red eyes. But then your vision clears and so does your hearing. Astarion’s repeating your name, asking if you can hear him. All you can do is nod. At least you know you’re alive, though. Or at least, you’re pretty sure. Your brain is still foggy. The lingering effects of blood loss? Or perhaps one too many healing potions?

You somehow manage to force yourself into a sitting position. Astarion’s right hand splays against your lower back carefully, his left one hovering in front of your body to catch you if you fold in on yourself. When you straighten your back, the room spins so fast you’re certain that Gale’s cast a spell to make it do that. Your hands grip Astarion’s left arm to keep from falling over.

“Easy, easy,” Astarion says softly. You’re not certain of many things right now, but you are certain that you have never heard Astarion use that tone before. One so gentle, so soft. Even when he’d told you of Cazador and the scar that tainted his back.

“I’m okay,” you reply after a moment. Your hands still grip his arm but neither of you seem to mind it. “I’m okay, promise.” The sentiment is just as much for yourself as it is for Astarion.

Astarion only hums in reply. His eyes are flickering over your face. Like he’s taking you in for the first time - or perhaps even the last. His hand on your back is a welcome weight and the feeling of his forearm under your fingertips keeps you grounded. This is real. You are here.

You are alive.

“Holy shit,” you curse. Your eyes widen and your breathing slowly begins to pick up. You’d been so close to dying, to bleeding out in a cursed land so far from home. You’d never thought you’d be one to care so much about something like this, but the fear that you could’ve died is gripping you by the throat, pinning you beneath its clutches.

Astarion notices this. Of course he notices. He notices everything about you. The way your eyes crinkle when you laugh. How you shift your weight from foot to foot when unsure about something. How your hands flex when you’re growing frustrated. So of course he notices your breathing picking up, your grip on his arms becoming just slightly tighter.

“You’re okay, you’re okay. You need to breathe, love.” He says your name softly then, still in that foreign tone of his. The hand at your back comes up to cup your face, his thumb brushing across your cheekbone. “Breathe,” his voice is firmer now, one you’re used to from him. Maybe it’s that tone of his that compels you to listen. Maybe it’s his hand cradling your face like you might slip away as soon as he lets you go. Or maybe it’s the fact that his eyes are still swimming with that fear you’d seen before you lost consciousness.

It takes a few moments, but you manage to even out your breathing. Those invisible claws at your neck retract, fading into the shadows of the room. The basement of Moonrise Towers, you realize. That was why the ceiling looked similar to the one upstairs.

Everything returns to you then. The battle, Ketheric, the ax, the amount of blood you’d lost. Astarion’s arrow in Z’rell’s neck.

“You killed her,” you say, as if Astarion had not killed dozens of other enemies during your travels. “Nice aim.”

Astarion visibly deflates as soon as the joke leaves your lips. Your lips quirk into the smallest of smiles despite yourself. But then Astarion retracts his hand from your face, and that small smile falls away slowly. Astarion pretends not to notice it. You pretend like you don’t either; your attention shifts to your right leg, studying the skin exposed by the large tear in your pants. You make a mental note to find new pants.

Your hand trembles slightly as you remove it from Astarion’s arm and bring it down on your leg. Gingerly, you pull the ruined fabric back more and take in where the wound should have been. Instead, your skin looks near perfect. There is a thin scar from where Shadowheart’s healing had knitted the skin together but that is the only indication that your flesh had been torn apart that very same day.

“For a woman who worshiped the Lady of Loss, Shadowheart was rather good at keeping me - us from losing you.”

Your eyes shift to Astarion’s at his slip. You try to not let your face fall when he pulls his arm from beneath your other hand. He leans back in the chair that matches the table you’re laid out on top of, crossing his arms and screwing his face into that expression you’ve grown to recognize as a mask. A flash of hurt floods through you. Selfishly, you wonder how much more you will need to do to prove yourself before Astarion finally, finally trusts you.

“Shadowheart is a good healer,” you say instead of what you want to say. You want to comment on him being scared. You want to point out that he had literally saved your life. You want to tell him that that is not something you just do for someone you’re looking at with sheer indifference. “I think you’re the only one who doubts her.” Your own tone has changed. Despite the hurt in your heart, your tone is sharp.

“I do not doubt her, my dear. I don’t trust her. There is a difference,” Astarion replies with a wave of his hand. You don’t like this game. You hate this game. Why must he insist on playing it?

“Do you trust anyone, Astarion?”

If you were anyone else, Astarion would’ve had a quick retort. Or if you’d said it with anger in your voice. But you’re you and the question comes out with far less frustration than you had wanted it to. Instead, you sound sad. Hurt. And somehow, seeing you look like this is almost as bad as watching you bleed out. He predicts your next words before you say them, but he still winces at them all the same.

“Do you trust me?”

Your question hangs in the air between the two of you. Maybe it’s the lack of blood in your system that makes you say it. You never would have dared to ask something so vulnerable just a few feet from the rest of your companions normally. Maybe it’s the fact that you had almost died. Almost died with so many unsaid words swimming through your mind. Maybe that’s why you say it. Or maybe you’re just tired of not knowing what Astarion is truly thinking and feeling.

“You know I care for you,” Astarion replies after a moment. And you do know - how could you not when you’d seen his fear at the prospect of losing you with your own two eyes. How could you not know that he cared for you when he was so gentle every time he took your blood? How could you not know that he cared for you when he had sat beside you on sleepless nights?

But that was not what your question was.

“That’s not what I asked.” You intend to sound firm still. You fail, though, and you sound every bit as hurt and frustrated as you feel. “Why not?” Why didn’t he trust you? Or better, why did he not trust you enough? He trusted you enough to tell you about Cazador and what his former master had done to him. But he didn’t trust you enough to be honest about his emotions - especially his emotions towards you. Why? Why?

You watch as Astarion shifts in his seat. At first, you think he’s going to get up and walk away from you. Instead, he shifts forward, and his left hand finds yours. Your eyes fall to where your skin meets, they watch as Astarion holds your hand on top of his gently. His own attention is drawn to it, watching carefully as his other hand fidgets with your fingers.

“I thought you were going to die.”

His confession is soft, heartfelt. You might even be able to convince yourself he sounds like he might cry. But when he looks up to meet your eyes again, his crimson eyes are clear of tears. But there is pain there. Pain and torment and that fear.

“I thought you were going to die and I would… And I would have to live with -” He gestures to himself with his hand that had been fidgeting with your fingers. “This.”

Your eyebrows knit together at his words, but you say nothing. You had long since learned that when Astarion was on the verge of opening up, it was best to let him get the words out on his own. Pressuring him had never gotten you anywhere. Well, except for right now. Every other time it had been entirely fruitless.

“You have shown a kindness to me that I am unfamiliar with. With Cazador… His version of kindness was letting me eat instead of starving. But it always had a price. Always,” he can’t look at you anymore, instead looking intently at your hand in his. “Your kindness - I am learning - comes freely.”

“You are waiting for the other boot to drop,” You say, understanding what he is trying to tell you without directly saying it. When he nods, you swallow thickly. Words seem to fail you as you search desperately for the right thing to say. But there are no words that feel good enough.

Astarion also seems to be at a loss for words. Carefully, you place your hand not holding his under his chin and tilt his face upwards, so that your eyes meet once more. Your hand slides to cup his cheek, and your heart swells when you feel him press into your touch gently.

“I am not him.”

Astarion’s eyes close at your words. He doesn’t move, doesn’t say anything, doesn’t do anything except sit there for a long moment. So long that you think he isn’t going to reply. But then he turns his head, and he kisses the palm of your hand. Then where your hand meets your wrist. Then the inside of your wrist. As he places the third kiss to your skin, you let your hand fall away and watch as he picks it up with his free hand.

He doesn’t say it, but you know he understands. He knows you are not Cazador. And you don’t say it, but he knows you understand. You know he is trying. And neither of you say it, but both of you see those three words swimming in each other’s eyes. But you both know they’re there.

“Thank you,” you say after a long minute. “For not letting me die. Not that I expected you to, but…”

But you knew he wouldn’t have saved you a few weeks ago.

“I mean it. Thank you.”

The fear in Astarion’s eyes finally melts away and that smirk of his falls onto his lips. But this was not his mask - no, this was his real joy. His real happiness at your not being dead and at being able to let a joke slip past his lips knowing you didn’t expect anything because of it.

“I can think of a few ways you could show that gratitude,” he says suggestively. A smile of your own spreads across your face, despite the color that floods it, too. Weakly, you shove his hands off of yours and roll your eyes at him. “You are welcome. I’ll save you a thousand times over if it means I get to see your smile once more.”

“Oh, don’t get soft on me now,” You say through your grin. But you’d like nothing more. A soft Astarion meant a healed one, a safe one. If that meant you were subjected to a few sappy lines here and there, you wouldn’t mind it.

“Hard to be soft with you around.”

“Astarion,” You hiss, realizing the joke you’ve walked yourself right into. For a second you debate getting off of the table and smacking him over the head, but when you shift your leg just slightly, that dizziness returns and has you gripping the edge of the table.

Astarion is on his feet within a moment, noticing the change in you as soon as it happens. His hand has returned to your back, steadying you as the room starts to spin again. With your head a little clearer now, you recognize the feeling as similar to what you feel when Astarion drinks from you. With how strongly you’re feeling it… you don’t want to think about how much blood you must have lost.

“Rest. Please,” Astarion says in that soft voice again. And truly, who are you to deny him when he’s being so gentle? You let him coax you onto the table, onto the soft pile of fabrics you hadn’t realized had been under your head until just now. You want to stay conscious, to talk to Astarion more, but as soon as you’ve settled back down, you realize just how tired you are.

When you stir hours later, you’re tucked into your bedroll within your tent. And Astarion is sitting not far from you, reading. You don’t say anything as sleep overtakes you again, but you’re pretty certain you could get used to waking up to the sight of Astarion.

And Astarion’s pretty certain he wouldn’t mind it either.

you can join my taglist by clicking here!!

#astarion #astarion ancunin #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion ancunin x reader #astarion ancunin x tav #astarion fanfic #astarion fanfiction #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 fanfic #bg3 x reader #bg3 x tav #x reader #gn!reader #shadowheart #wyll

1K notes · View notes

xetlynn · 1 month ago

Text

Scars and Faint Memories

Vanessa Palmer x Fem! Reader

chapter two<- -> chapter three -> chapter four

warnings: descriptions of wounds, character death.

1996

Falling asleep was difficult, laying there with your eyes closed. Tossing and turning as the day repeats in your head. Images of the dead bodies. The injuries everyone had received.

The burn on your arm hurts more. It itches almost? Which normally doesn’t happen until it begins to heal.

It tingled and you knew you needed to let it breathe. You just also know how bad it is. How if you showed everyone they’d be worried and you’d rather have everyone thinking about themselves. Not you.

Your eyes open, staring up at the sky. The fire is still crackling. Feeling for the ointment in your pocket. You get up, rushing to a different area. Not even looking to see who’s up. You pull your sleeve back carefully since it’s stuck to the wound a little bit. Glancing down at it you grimace in disgust.

It had bubbled, and it’s weirdly slimy looking. It has also been bleeding on and off from you hitting or rubbing it on different things. You suck in a deep breath as you open the little tube and lather the burn with the cream. You squint your eyes as you wince. Your teeth grinding. “Shit, shit, shit.” Tears well in your eyes but you push it back.

“[Name]?” A voice speaks, startling you, you quickly put the tube back in your pocket. Hiding your arm behind you as you turn to face the person. “Oh… it’s you.” You huff, placing your right hand on your heart.

“Wow, thanks.” Natalie scoffs, putting her hands in her pockets. “What’s behind your back?” She raises a brow. “Huh, nothing.” You give her a confused look. She deadpans. “I know you better than that, [Nickname].”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You act clueless and she rolls her eyes. The two of you have a stare-down, trying to prove a point until finally… you break. “Okay, but it’s not that big of a deal.” You start and she leans on one of her legs. Tilting her head as she waits for you to just show her.

Slowly you bring out your arm. And whatever she was expecting- it was not this. “Holy shit, [Name]!” She gasps, grabbing your wrist and inspecting it further which causes you to hiss in pain. “Fuck, sorry.” She loosens her grip. “It’s really not that bad, I swear.” You say and she laughs.

“Not that bad? [Name] this looks like it’s on the verge of an infection!” She exclaims and you let out a small “pssh.”

“Oh, don’t psh me, [Name]. That’s disgusting looking.” Natalie scrunches her nose and you take your arm back. “Jeez, thanks.” You murmur. “It does! Have you cleaned it at all?”

“Yes, I have my ointment, and I put water on it earlier. I think it’s because my sleeve’s been covering it all day.” You admit quietly.

“Yeah, no duh! [Name] if you cover it, I will loudly announce to everyone that it’s there. Have us hold you down and cut your sleeve off or something.” She dramatically warns you and you press your lips together. “You could’ve just told me not to cover it anymore.” You say, rolling up your sleeve in a better way.

You knew she was right, you really didn’t want it to get infected and no one actually knows when you’re getting rescued. Worriedly it could be a couple of days.

“So… Van’s been attached to your side.” She slyly moves the conversation and you let out an annoyed breath, putting your hands on your hips. “Still with this? Javi’s been attached to my hip too. Is he into me?” You sarcastically ask and she chuckles.

“Oh don’t even. You know exactly what I’m talking about.” Natalie teases, the both of you walk further from the group. To make sure no one can hear the two of you.

“Nat, no.” You shake your head. “We just got into a fucking plane crash. That is the last thing any of us are thinking of.” You tell her earnestly and she puts her hands up in defense. “I mean from what I heard, you saved her life. So I get being attached to you but… I mean. She won’t leave your side. She does everything you ask of her.”

You try not to smile thinking back to it but you push that thought away. “Natalie, we don't even know if she’s… if she’s gay.” You roughly whisper, motioning with your hands as you speak. Natalie stops in her tracks. Staring at you blankly as if you had just said the most idiotic thing in the world.

“What?!” You defensively question and she mutters a small wow. “I can’t believe this.”

“What?” You ask again as she walks ahead of you. “Has she said something? I think everyone would know if she did…” You think.

“[Name], I hate to say this. But look at her. I think that might be enough.”

You turn to where the group is, furrowing your eyebrows then pressing your lips together. “Yeah, you might be right.” You huff and she snorts out another laugh. “Might be" is an understatement.”

“Now you’re being a little mean.” You give her a look and she smiles at you. “Okay, okay. But I basically got you to confess your feelings.” She points out and you roll your eyes. “You did not. Plus that is the last thing on my mind right now.” You gently push her away from you. “Well when we get back home, I am so reopening this conversation.” She tells you with much enthusiasm.

“Whatever. Let’s get back before someone wakes up and freaks out over us missing.” You link arms with her and she leans into you.

And in the morning you were one of the firsts to wake up, putting out the fire with what little it was smoking. Throwing dirt on it to suffocate any of the heat. Along with putting more ointment on your burn, it still hurt and looked disgusting. You feel gross in general, you swiped your shirt off easily. Showcasing your white tank top underneath.

Tying the long-sleeved shirt around your waist. Ready to get shit going. Slowly as each person wakes up, you check on their injuries. Inspecting them.

Mari’s sitting in front of you as you are on one of your knees, dabbing the ointment on her. “Oh dude, when did that happen?” Taissa comes up to the both of you, checking out your arm. You glance down and shrug your shoulders. “When the fucking plane blew up.” You chuckle, patting Mari to insinuate you finished with her burn.

She sits there, also looking at your rather large burn. “Why didn’t you tell anyone yesterday?” Mari reaches her hand out, making eye contact with you. Silently asking if she can see it. You allow her to and she sits there observing it.

“This is like worse than third degree.” Mari comments and you smile. “Feels like a sunburn. Don’t worry about me.” You stand up, your arm going back to your side.

“Let’s get moving for the day. Check with Misty for what to do. I’m going to check on Javi.” You clap your hands as you direct the others on what to do.

You keep your arm a little bit away from your side since the adrenaline has definitely dropped. Nowhere to be seen left for you to deal with the excruciating pain. “Hey, Javi…” You approach the boy who’s staring off. Eyes puffy and his hands playing in the dirt around him.

“Hey, [Name].” He quietly responds and you smile softly. “You need anything?” You ask him and he shakes his head.

“Hug?” You open your arms and he stands up, rushing into your embrace, almost knocking you back but you caught your balance. Your heart pangs, tightening as he squeezes you. Your left arm hovered over him as to be careful of your burn mark instead of being inattentive like yesterday.

“I’m so sorry, Javi.” You whisper and he sniffles in response. “So, so, sorry.” Your head lays atop his. You hope that when rescue comes, when you guys get back home. You can still check in with Javi. You couldn’t even imagine what his and Travis’s mom is like right now. All three of her boys are missing, not knowing their fate. Not knowing her husband is dead and her sons had to witness it.

“Do you think you’re able to do anything today? Or do you want to sit out? Either one is perfectly okay.” You take his face in your hands, his own arms drop to his side. “Sit it out.” He answers just above a mumble. “Okay, I’ll bring you some food and water when I can. Or have your brother do it.” You tell him and he nods his head before sitting back down.

You felt your eyes water but you had to push that emotion down. You had to be strong. Thinking about getting back home to your siblings. To Tilly and Theo.

Missing your nightly and morning routines already. It has only been two days without doing it and you miss helping them get ready for bed even though you secretly complain about it.

You miss forcing them to eat in the morning as they tiredly sit at the kitchen table. You miss them. You miss them.

You had to be strong for your team. Keep up hope. Keep them happy, alive, fed and safe.

Sucking in air you stand straighter and head back to the group.

The last of the dirt gets thrown onto the dead from the plane crash. You walk over to Van, Taissa and Laura Lee shoveling. Van gets up, going to your side, staring at Rachel’s grave.

“Before we took off I heard Rachel say she was going to see Oasis at the Meadowlands next month. And now she’s just…” She pauses, not able to get the word out. You place a firm hand on her shoulder and she glances at you for a second. “She’ll never hear Wonderwall again. And her parents will always have her unused ticket.” Van expresses and you sadly look to the young girl's grave.

Everyone nods, processing how terrible the girl’s fate is. How terrible it will feel for the parents.

“Let’s join hands. We’ll pray for her.” Laura Lee speaks. “I’m pretty sure she was Jewish.” Taissa disagrees. The blonde just gives her a look, as if to say to just do it. Reluctantly she joins.

“Rachel, you just got pulled up from JV, so we didn’t really know you. But in Trig class… you never confused your secants and cosecants. You seemed really smart. And even if you were Jewish. Jesus still loves you.” She prays then takes a beat to look up at the three of you. “Anyone else?”

“I saw her carrying a flute case once.” Van says. “Oh Lord, please accept Rachel Goldman into your arms, so she can fill your kingdom with beautiful music. Please accept Coach Martinez into your glory too. And flight attendant Janet, Pilot Robert…” And as she continues on you look over to Taissa seems to be heavily affected by the sight of the graves. “The Lord is my strength, whom shall I fear?”

Taissa looks away, now visibly uncomfortable. “I’m going for a walk.” She lets go of Laura Lee’s hand.

2021

You stretched out your legs in the back seat of Misty’s Fiat. Tiredly staring off into space as the blonde was talking both of your ears off. And right now it’s about her recent love life. Lives? “But that guy was a total flake. I found out later he got caught stealing tons of office supplies from his job. And I’m not just talking staplers.” She laughs. “Then there was hiking guy- he seemed pretty normal.”

“But afterward he asked if he could have my socks. He still never called.” She shrugs to herself. “What about you two? Seeing anyone? Oh- [Name], you had that hookup! Is that going to become anything? Or are you still hung up on… the one we can’t say the name of?” Misty turns her body to look at you and you glare at her.

“How much longer until Travis’s?” Natalie butts into the conversation. Knowing that what Misty just brought up could lead to a very… very dangerous crash out. She checks the navigation on her phone, completely moving past her questions she asked you. “Three hours, twenty four minutes.”

“I totally get not dating, by the way. Especially you [Name].” She giggles, your fists clench. Hard, your nails, even being short, dig into your skin. “It’s so hard to find a good guy- or woman, at this age. The available ones are basically just crumbs at the bottom of a chip bag.” She sighs.

Misty’s phone dings, she checks it. Biting her lip and texting the mystery person back, grinning ear to ear. “Mostly…”

“Got a whole chip?” Natalie side eyes the woman who shakes her head coyly. “Just a friend. For now.”

Natalie spots a gas station ahead, turning into it and parking at a pump. “I’m hungry. Grab some snacks while I gas up.” She suggests, well, more like directs while handing her cash. Hoping that Misty will leave her purse.

“But I don’t know what you guys like. Maybe you should-”

“Chocolate’s good.”

“Well there’s dark, milk, white-” “Surprise me.” Natalie widens her eyes and you sit in the car with the door open. Smirking as Misty nods, grabbing her purse and heading inside. “Jesus.” Natalie whispers, looking around the vehicle. Opening the console, then the glove compartment. She rummages around and finds a battery cable with stripped wires. “No fucking way.” You poke your head over the seat.

“I fucking knew it.” Natalie looks at you and you laugh. “What is with her?” You rub your face. “Sometimes I feel for her, the way people always treated her but- I can’t. That relationship shit? What the fuck were those jabs for?” The two of you stand at the pump, Natalie putting the nozzle car.

“She cut the wires to my fucking car!” She harshly whispers and you shake your head. “We should’ve just taken my car.” You put your hands on your hips. “Yeah that shit wouldn’t have even gotten us to the coffee shop next door.” Natalie rolls her eyes and you gently smack her. “Juno is very reliable. I hate that you talk about her like that.”

“And I hate that you named your 40 fucking year old car.” Natalie scoffs. “Don’t you have enough money to get like four new cars?” She looks you up and down.

“Juno runs perfectly fine, why would I get a new one?” You huff out, annoyed with her as this is a common conversation between the two of you. “I wouldn’t be surprised if that thing explodes on you.”

Natalie replaces the pump as Misty comes back with a plastic bag of snacks. Tossing Natalie a family size Snickers. Taking a bite of beef jerky. Natalie gives her a disgusted look.

“Really?Jerky?” She shakes her head, all three of you climbing back in the car.

1996

The girls all sit in a circle as everyone is eating and passing around water bottles. Natalie placed a gusher in her mouth then offered you one. You shake your head, almost feeling lightheaded but ignoring that as you watch the others pass around packets of snacks. Shauna uses Van’s swiss army knife to slice a cookie in half.

Travis, heading over, marches into the circle to grab a whole bag of pretzels earning quite the reaction from Van and Akilah. “Maybe you didn’t notice but we’re in kind of a situation here, Flex.” Lottie speaks up. “Don’t.” Natalie shushes, getting a glare for the boy in return. Not wanting the help and he heads off.

“Who died and made him king of the snacks?” Lottie mutters under her breath. “His dad, Lottie. Literally his fucking dad.” Natalie says and you sigh. “Nat’s right, we should cut him a break.” Jackie agrees.

“Cool. I guess it’s fine if we all starve to death, as long as Travis’s feelings are okay…” Mari rolls her eyes and as much as you want to add into the conversation you just feel weird today. Not even able to eat anything. Still holding onto your little bag of chips with your right hand as your left arm is on your knee. “We’re not going to starve to death. When the rescue party gets here-”

“If it gets here…” Van corrects.

“Don’t say that.” Jackie says and you manage to hum out as well. “It has been three days.” Shauna gently says over to her best friend. “They’re coming.” Jackie sternly tells everyone. Putting your chips down, you tiredly stand up, a wave of heavy fatigue washes over you as you do so. You grab onto the closest person to you- Mari. And catch your balance.

“Hey, you okay, [Name]?” Van is the first to notice your behavior and you stand up straight. Forcing a smile. “I’m fine. Just tired. Don’t think I slept very well.” You lie. Walking away from the group to your things.

The girls all look at one another, watching you stumble away. “She looks pale.” Shauna whispers worriedly. “Do you think she’s sick?” Mari inquires. “What if she has an infection from that nasty burn?” Jackie folds her arms as they all lean in to talk about you, without you hearing.

“I’ll go check on her.” Both Natalie and Van say as they get up from their spots. They look at one another before Natalie puts her hands up. “You can do it.” She chuckles and Van silently nods her head. Jogging after you.

You watch your steps carefully, trying not to trip over anything. Your sight turning fuzzy you make out a tree in front of you. You attempt to grab at it but instead you’re tripping over someone’s bag and falling to the ground. Hitting your burn on someone else's bag. “Fuck.” Is all you’re able to muster out. Groaning as you roll yourself onto your back.

“Shit, [Name]!” A distorted voice draws close as you grit your teeth, holding your arm to your body in pain.

“[Name], you okay?” The person kneels at your side as you scrunch your eyes closed. Trying to compose yourself. “I’m fine.” You lie. “I’m fine.” You take a breather before sitting up. With the person’s help. “You sure?” Their voice sounds like it’s underwater now. You look at them with furrowed eyebrows.

“Nat?” You squint but when everything comes to, it’s Van. Your hand reaches out to her. “I fell.” You tell her and she snorts out a dry laugh. “Yeah I saw.” She rubs the dirt off your back, helping you up.

“Are you okay?” She repeats what she said before. “I’m okay, just a little dizzy and tired. Might be dehydrated.” You give her a tight-lipped smile. One that she knows is un-genuine. The back of her hand smacks against your forehead lightly. “Hey!-”

“[Name] you have a fever.” She frowns and you let out a small chuckle. “I’m fine, Van.” You stand up, dusting yourself off. “No, I don’t think you are. I think your arm got infected.” She grabs your hand and inspects your burn that is now leaking pus and- she sniffs it.

She lets go of your arm so she can gag. It stinks. “Yup. Definitely infected.” She covers her nose with her shirt. “I’m fine, Van.” You shake your head. Going over to your bag and plopping down heavily, partially because you can’t keep yourself up.

“You say that but you look like shit.” She follows after you. “Feel like shit too.” You mumble, frowning. Knowing she’s right. “I might have a fever. My arm also constantly feels as though it’s about to fall off.” You admit. She digs through your little first aid kit and pulls out an alcohol wipe. “C’mere.” Van takes your arm again and you glance at her.

Not expecting her to take care of you. More expecting her to call for the others to help her deal with it. Tell on you for not properly treating your burn. You can’t take your eyes away from her focused expression.

“Can you- Can you maybe not… tell the others?” You shyly ask, embarrassed. “What do you mean?”

“Just uh, I don’t want the others to worry. I’ll be fine, I’ll take better care of it. But please, I don’t want the others to know.” Your tone is desperate, as if you were begging to keep this a secret. Like it would be the worst possible thing to happen if the others knew you were in pain. Even worse, infected.

“Okay, okay. I won’t tell the others.” She stops what she’s doing to your arm so her focus is on you. Your shoulders slump in relief. “But.” She puts a finger up. “If it gets worse. If you feel even the tiniest bit worse. I will be telling Misty and Natalie. And that could cause word to spread.” She warns you and you nod your head. Not even noticing how your chin was quivering. She did though. She noticed.

Your faces were so close together she could carefully distinguish every feature in your face. Every curvature. Every bump. Everything. She’s never seen you so up close and she now has a new fear out here in the wilderness.

Not being able to do it for the rest of her life.

“That’s fine.” You whisper. “I’ll do everything to make sure that doesn’t happen.” You accidentally let a tear slip down your left cheek. And quickly you wipe it away. Turning your head away from the redhead. She intensely stares at you as she’s trying to figure you out. How can someone be so… nice. Level Headed. Persistent in making sure others feel safe and happy. But when it comes to yourself, you seem to be the opposite.

She realizes how much she truly doesn’t know anything about you. The basics like favorite color, favorite food. And simple as your home life. She just learned of your siblings' names. You barely complain about anything. And if you do it’s something everyone else is complaining about. Something so… miniscule.

“Sorry, hah. Had a little bit of a moment.” You wipe your face aggressively. Giving your arm back to her. “Can you help me clean this a little more? And with the ointment?” You dig in your pocket to hand over the tube. It snaps her out of her trance. Nodding with a soft smile. “Of course.”

“There’s a lake!” An excited Taissa runs up to the camp, causing the others to gather around her. “I saw it from that hill. Looks about four or five miles away.” She points to the direction she saw the body of water. “Do you think we could hike it?” Shauna asks. “It’s pretty rocky but yeah.” Taissa nods.

Jackie gives an incredulous expression. “We can’t just leave.” She points out.

“We’ve got two days of water, tops. Then what? Sit around and die?” Taissa argues with her. “What if the rescue team comes?”

“You think they’re taking their time on purpose? If they knew where we were, they’d be here already.” The taller girl of the two points out in irritation. “You don’t know that!” Unfortunately her argument is pretty much a lost cause.

“What do you think, Coach?” Laura Lee looks at the man who’s pretty much unable to focus on anything other than his pain. “I don’t know. I mean… you’d have to leave me behind. I guess, but whatever.” He grits out. Everyone trades looks, not what they were hoping to be told by the adult.

“We can make you a stretcher. If we take turns carrying it it’ll work out.” Taissa steps into the conversation. Looking around for encouragement. Both you and Van nod your heads. “I’ll do it.” Travis joins the group to everyone’s surprise. “This is bullshit. I say no. No way.” Jackie shakes her head.

“Jackie,” You speak up, clearing your throat. Still feeling horrible from your fever that’s been the same since earlier. “It’s the best option for us. I understand your frustration but due to it being a lake. Open area. We’d most likely be found first out there than here.” You say softly and her eyes seem to open a little wider at your words. “Let’s put out a vote. That way it’s a fair choice.” Taissa says.

“All in favor of waiting here?” She looks around and Jackie’s hand is the first to shoot up. After a beat so does Laura Lee’s, Lottie, Mari and so on. Everyone is clearly on edge now.

“All in favor of the lake.”

Taissa raises her hand along with yours, Van’s, Shauna’s. Leading to others to raise their hand and give you guys the majority vote. “Then it’s settled.” Taissa hums.

You watch Jackie storm off and you sigh. “This is getting a little old.” You mumble, not thinking anyone was paying attention until Van snickers at your side. “Yeah, little bit.” She agrees.

Everyone moves, getting everything together to start their hike. You go to Javi, helping him with his things as he does the same for you. “Your burn looks weird.” He points out and you smile. “Yeah, it’s doing its thing, healing.” You ruffle his hair with your right hand and he pouts. Pushing you away. “Do you want me to help you carry your bags?” He offers. “Mm, if you’d like to. It’d be helpful.” You give him your lightest bag: your backpack.

The girls all congregate back to the middle of the makeshift camp. Van climbed out of the mangled cockpit, proudly holding the compass. You clap your hands for her and she smiles. Doing a little bow your way. Misty and Travis carry Coach in a make-shift litter made from two blankets and branches.

You look back to the plane to see Shauna had written “SOS. GONE TO LAKE.” In big red letters. The feeling of leaving the crash site feels electric but so… different.

Van is leading the way with her compass, noting the direction that you’re all heading in. But even though she’s in the lead, you’re made to stand right behind her so she can keep somewhat of an eye on you. Be close to you. Natalie links your arms together which unbeknownst to her it was helping you keep up. And stay up.

And due to your fever you could barely focus on what’s happening around you. Your focus stays on the back of the redhead’s back. Your eyelids are threatening to close. Your energy was draining and you were beginning to regret voting to do this hike to the lake. But you knew in the long run this was going to be a good thing.

Hopefully.

Then, Natalie slows her steps, eyeing something curiously in the woods. “What is it?” Lottie asks, coming up to the both of you. You accidentally- but loudly hum. Natalie gives you a glance before shrugging her shoulders and letting you go. “I don’t know…”

Natalie movies into the woods, looking magnetically drawn to whatever it is. You stay where you are, not really caring to know what it is. But the others follow, making it through the brush.

“Oh, god. I’m gonna puke.” Jackie exclaims. “Whoa. Sick.” Travis says to whatever was out there. “What could’ve done that?”

“A wolf, probably.” Ben speaks. “They can kill a fucking bear?” Natalie worriedly questions. “Yeah. Wolves can kill anything, if the pack’s big enough.” He answers. Everyone sits there, taking in his words. Even you do as you haven’t even seen the said bear that’s dead.

“We should keep moving.” Natalie announces, the others very quickly agreeing.

“This shit’s way longer than four miles. What if we missed it?” Natalie speaks up as your knees are threatening to give in on you. “From the angle of the sun, it looked just left of due north.” Taissa says. Jackie scoffs, “left? Wow. That’s a precise way of doing it.”

“I’m not a fucking cartographer.” Taissa rolls her eyes. “Or maybe, you saw a mirage-”

“Oh, shit! Hell yeah, bitches!” Van yells, drowning out their unnecessary squabbling. You watch by the tree line as Van sprints near the water, dropping her bags. Shedding her clothing as she breaks into the water.

“It’s great! Get your asses in here!” She sputters as she comes back up from the water. You amusedly watch as everyone excitedly rushes to join her. Slowly you head down, matching pace with Travis and Misty who still hold Coach Ben.

He gets placed down gently on the ground and you sit down with him. Misty also lingering a bit. “Aren’t you going to join them?” He huffs through the pain and you shake your head. “Can’t get the bacteria in my burn.” You show him.

“Shit… [Name] how’d you let it get infected?” His eyes widen and you hurriedly shush him.

“Keep your voice down- I don’t- I… The others don’t know it’s gotten this bad. Except for Van.” You tell him, your face panicked. “I’m taking better care of it, I just haven’t focused on myself much.” You set your bag up so you can lay down and put your head on it. “Yeah, I’ve noticed.” He frowns.

“Misty said you haven’t eaten since yesterday morning.”

You keep your mouth shut, picking at your nails on your right hand. Avoiding eye contact with him. “Is that because of feeling sick?” He grunts as he tries to adjust himself. Only causing more pain. “Yeah… I had a weird nausea yesterday that just wouldn’t go away.” You mutter.

He lets out a loud breath. You do the same thing, sort of mocking him. He smiles through his uncomfortable pain as you do the same, peering at him through your peripheral vision.

2021

Natalie pulls into a gravel driveway. You observe the old shack that has chipped paint and filmy windows. Natalie kills the engine. “You should’ve brought the rifle.” She comments and the two of you give her a look. “What? We haven’t seen Travis in twenty-five years. He changed his name, moved to the sticks. That’s got Unabomber written all over it.” Misty explains what she said.

Not knowing the kind of relationship Natalie and Travis actually had. The bond they held with one another. You and Natalie pop the car doors open, starting towards the shack. You offer your hand to Nat who takes it roughly. Giving it a quick squeeze before letting go.

Getting to the front door. “Careful, it could be booby-trapped.” Misty warns, making the both of you smirk. Natalie takes a breath in, knocking on the door. Moments pass and nothing. She knocks again.

No movement.

She tries the door and it’s locked. “Don’t see a car. We could check out what’s happening in town? Grab some buffalo wings and come back later?” Misty suggests but it falls on deaf ears as you take off your sweater. Wrapping it around your hand and smashing the glass. Reaching inside and unlocking the door.

“Or that works.” Misty tilts her head.

Entering the space it was incredibly dark and gloomy. The three of you searching around for a clue of Travis. It was so monastic, and bare. Not much of a sign of life. Reminding you a little bit of the cabin back in the wilderness. Your chest tightening of the remembrance.

“Yikes. Someone could use a trip to Tuesday Morning.” Misty remarks. “It’s never a good sign when a suspect lives like a hermit. We see this sort of thing all the time.” Misty tells the both of you. “Aren’t you a nurse?” Natalie asks, almost to insult her. “And a Citizen Detective. It’s common knowledge that the less and person owns, the creepier they turn out to be. If all Travis does is send us weird postcards, we should consider ourselves lucky.”

“You’re so… you Misty. Glad you never changed.” You pass by her and she grins. “Thanks, [Name]. You too.” She says, continuing on talking even though no one’s listening.

“There was this one guy, Mike McGreevy, AKA the Gibbsboro Ghoul? Barely owned anything. Turns out he was robbing graves because he was collecting teeth to-” “Why don’t you go through the trash? I saw a can around back.” Natalie cuts her off, getting overwhelmed by all her talking along with her emotions she was trying to hold back.

“Great idea. You can find much about a person from personal refuse.” Misty goes off outside to check.

You were seriously regretting coming along on this trip. Natalie goes off to a bedroom and you still walk around. Checking things out boredly. Not knowing exactly what you’re doing.

It seems the others are finding one another again. Your chest hurts at the thought of seeing the other survivors. Taissa was too much. Shauna you see on a regular basis and even that sucks. The only reason you still talk to her is… well… you don’t really know why. She’s not that enjoyable to be around.

Natalie is your best friend, she is someone you will never be able to get rid of. Misty… you’ll go right back to not talking to her after this. Travis is missing? And the others… You try not to care too much about their lives.

“I’ll tell you one thing, Travis definitely isn’t getting enough fiber.” Misty scoffs as she comes back inside. But holding a piece of paper. “What’s that?” Natalie and you enter the kitchen together. “His pay stub. Looks like he’s been working at a Willow Brook Ranch.”

Natalie then catches sight of a bottle of scotch. Two glasses near it. One still with some of the scotch in it. “This is a two-hundred dollar bottle.” Natalie says and you raise your brows. “Expensive taste for a man barely making minimum wage…” Misty presses her lips together. Misty then spots a notepad on a small table. A piece of it hanging from the top where the last note was torn from. She takes it.

“Hello?” A man’s voice sounds and the three all exchange a look, hoping that it’s Travis but when the man rounds the corner it’s an officer. Immediately drawing his gun on them. “Freeze!”

“That’s really not necessary-” Natalie attempts to talk to the man. “Get your hands up!” MIsty’s shoot up as yours and Natalie’s go halfway. You stand there, a little ticked.

“What are you doing in here?” He questions. “Just visiting a good friend.” Natalie smiles, he nods over to the shattered window on the floor down the hall. “SO good you had to bust his window. On your knees. Now.” He orders. The blonde woman dropping to her knees automatically. Natalie hesitates as you grunt, trying to get on yours. “Sorry, bad knees.” You snicker, mainly to yourself.

Natalie’s eyes flick to the exit, considering if she could actually do it. “Lady, I will shoot you.” He tells her and she gets on her knees with annoyance.

“Wow, the ol’ slammer. Definitely smells like I thought.” Misty looks around, weirdly fascinated by the experience. “I’ll bet he thinks we’re hookers.” Misty smiles. The two of you deadpan in her area. “Hey what crawled up your-”

“You stole my battery cable, Misty. Why would you fucking do that?” Natalie glares at her. She smirks almost and you watch as she does so. Not knowing if this was a… weird sheepish thing or what?

“I really wanted to come with you. And I didn’t think you two would let me. Was I wrong?” She explains her motive and you roll your eyes, leaning against the bars. Natalie searches the woman's face, trying to dictate how much truth there was to that.

“Phone calls. [Last Name] first.” A guard comes up, interrupting the moment. You look between the two women then over to the guard. “Don’t have anybody to call.” You say and he sighs. “Scatorccio. C’mon.”

Misty and you stand there together, you closing your eyes, hoping she just stops fucking talking. “What even happened between you and Van?” She speaks and your eyes dart her way. “Stop-”

“Do you even know where she went?” Misty continues and you take a deep breath in. “I’ve heard a few things- about why you guys split up but none of them really make sense.” She snickers to herself and you can’t hold it. “Misty, God damn it! Stop!” You snap, banging your first against the metal.

“You were always really weird about your personal life.” She comments and you blink slowly. “Was that like a coping thing? Why do you feel the need to hide?” She comes closer to you and you laugh. You were growing uncomfortable. “Misty-”

1996

You stand in the water, you had taken off your pants and shirt just to let the sun hit you. The coldness feels good against your hot skin. Your head is tilted up to the sky with your eyes closed. Swaying back and forth in a soothing way. Not paying attention to the eyes on you.

Van swims over to you, careful not to splash you. “How are you feeling?” Your eyes open but still looking up at the sky. “Better, the water feels nice… I wish I could lay in it.” You say to her, glancing down to see her face. Only to look back up. “If you want to, I can hold your arm up. Let you float.” She offers.

You look down at her with a small smile. “I’ll take it into consideration. Thank you.” You look back up to the sky. Van just stares at you, admiring you as you are just doing your thing.

You sit with Taissa and you watch Van who’s playing a game of chicken. Natalie on her shoulders as Laura Lee is on Shaunas. Van makes eye contact with you and grins. You give a soft smile back. Getting to see them laughing and having fun. Taissa nudges you. And you look at her confused.

“I didn’t know you were…” Taissa raises her brows with a smile and you scrunch your face. “Know I was what?” You ask. “You and Van. I mean I know about Van but you. That shocked me a little bit.” She says and you can’t relax your face. Keeping the same befuddled expression laid upon your face.

“What are you- what?”

“What the fuck is happening?” Jackie’s voice cuts through your unseen tension with Taissa. Everyone looks at Lottie who’s very distraught pointing towards the woods. “Guys. Look.”

Laura Lee, you and Taissa scramble up the boulder to look at what Lottie is pointing at. Laura Lee kisses her cross necklace. “Oh, thank you, sweet Jesus!”

Everyone begins to scream and cheer. Bursting with excitement everyone hurries to the cabin they saw.

“Hello?! Anyone home!?” Jackie shouts. “We need help!” Akilah yells for someone.

You try not to get too excited, a cabin out in the middle of these woods… who knew what it could have in there. Or who. Or anything really.

Jackie pounds on the door but there’s no answer. Akilah then tries the handle and it’s unlocked. Opening it and stepping over the threshold. “Hello?” Jackie warrily speaks. Heading toward the kitchen it was incredibly old. Dusted and dirty. The table had an old meal that was molded over.

“Maybe they just went on a hike?” Laura Lee speaks in a hopeful tone. “Yeah, like a decade ago.” Jackie scoffs. “Ugh, it reeks in here.” She complains.

“Check the pantry to see if there’s any food.” You gently nudge Mari and Jackie. “Everyone else, look around for stuff we can use. First aid, flashlights, tools.” Taissa orders the rest.

As the girls begin to rummage around you lean yourself against a wall to catch your breath. Seems that the fever fatigue is not going away anytime soon. Jackie comes out with a can. Hungrily peels back the lid. “What the hell, Jackie? That’s not your personal buffet.”

Jackie’s face goes pale as she drops the can. “Oh, fuck. Ew!” She gags, it slaps against the floor and it’s covered in green, rancid film. “You see? We should’ve never left the plane!”

“Yeah, well, we did. So this is helping… how exactly?” Van questions. A few girls roll their eyes and Jackie flinches. “This place is a fucking nightmare.” She storms out of the building.

“Well, hell-o.” Van speaks up from an opened old chest. “Don’t worry, guys. We may be in the middle of nowhere, but hey, at least there’s porn.” She shows off the magazines dramatically and you laugh. Heading over to check it out. “Oh, man. Gnarly.” Akilah grimaces. Natalie grabs one of the magazines, flipping through, Mari looking over her shoulder.

“Hey, this guy kinda looks like you, Flex.” Mari points and he gives a dirty look. “If only any of you looked like her.” He says and you chuckle. “Weirdo.” You mumble.

“Okay, that is so gross.” Akilah shakes her hands in disgust. “Do guys really jerk off to this stuff?” She turns to Travis. He grabs one of the magazines and displays it. “Nah, we hate this shit. You can’t even tell what her favorite book is in this picture.” He takes it and stalks off as the girls give him the finger.

You pick up a magazine yourself, seeing a girl with red hair, with no top on. You feel dirty looking at it but you can’t seem to break away. “This one got crazier stuff?” Van goes to peer over your shoulder but you fumble it out of your hand. It falls to the floor. “Shit, sorry.” You mumble. The both of you reached down to grab it.

“It’s fine, my fault.” She chuckles, and as your hand touches it she’s already picking it up. She looks at the page you were so deeply engrossed in. Her eyes flicker up to you then back down. Your grow flustered and walked away. Fast.

Embarrassed beyond comprehension.

2021

Natalie comes back before you can go off on the blonde in front of you. “Who did you call?” Misty asks as you lean against the wall. “Someone I thought was a friend. Turns out, I was wrong.” Natalie enters the cell. “So, it’s my turn?” Misty looks at the guard who nods.

Natalie scoffs. “Who do you have to call? Your bird?” She mocks the woman who seems unaffected. “Caligula hasn’t learned how to answer the phone yet.” She’s led away with a mystifying smile spread across her face.

As she’s out of sight you grab onto Natalie. “I cannot stand another minute with that fucking cunt.” You muster, very frustrated and wanting to go home. You’re thinking about calling Kania after this because you needed to place your anger somewhere.

“I just need to do one more thing. Then we can drop you off. I promise.” Natalie assures you but you shake your head. “No, Nat. She’s going to say one more wrong thing and I won’t be able to hold myself back.” You tell her earnestly. Letting her go to pace back and forth. “God, seeing Taissa then fucking Misty? It’s doing something to me, Nat. I can’t go back there.” You were beginning to panic.

“Hey, hey, we’re not going- nothing is happening.” She pulls you into a forced embrace, holding you tightly.

It’s been a long time since she’s had to help you with one of these panic attacks. You take deep breaths but it’s barely helping. You’ve been doing good. So, so, so good. And this fucking shit is slithering it’s way back into your life and you can’t handle it. “I’ll be fine.” You breathe in through your nose. “I’ll be fine.” You push off of Natalie.

“I’ll push through for you, once we find Travis. I’m leaving.” You tell her and she nods. “Understood.”

“Who did you call?” You suddenly ask, coming out of your panicked state. “Tai.” She answers, unapologetically. You knew Taissa put her in rehab. You personally didn’t care who Natalie spoke to. You just wanted nothing to do with Taissa yourself.

“Mm. She said no?”

“She said especially no when your name was brought up.” She lies with a laugh and you smirk. “Yeah, sure. You didn’t mention me. Cause if you did she would’ve done it to kiss ass.” You huff and before the conversation can continue on.

The Guard is unlocking the cell door. “Your friend phoned a winner.” He says and the two of you walk out, shocked. Misty is beaming proudly down the hall.

“Who’d you call?” Natalie questions. “Just someone I thought was a friend. Turns out I was right.” She states, the two of you look at her, expectantly. “Oh, right. Kevyn Tan.”

“Kevyn? Why would you call him?” You ask. “Because he's a cop and because we’ve been texting, and… okay, fine. He thinks I’m Natalie.” She admits to the both of you. “What the fuck?”

The three of you head towards the exit. “Oh, c’mon, what’s the big deal? He was looking at you at the bar like he wanted to ravage you then and there. So I thought: what the heck? Let’s see where this could go for these crazy kids. And I was right. He’s super into you.” She defends herself with her explanation. Only making her look a little worse and more strange.

“What have you been saying to him?” Natalie chimes into the conversation finally. “Mainly, I’ve tried to channel you. A little dark, kinda deadpan?” She postulates. “I can only imagine.” Natalie sighs. “Yeah, like that.”

“Do you hear how weird you are?” Natalie looks at her.

Misty pulls something out of the clear bag from the station, a notepad from Travis’s. Relieved and put it into her purse. “Please don’t be mad. It’s a long drive home and uncomfortable silences make me uncomfortable.” Misty starts. “We’re not going home.”

“Oh. Where are we going?” Both you and Misty ask. “Willow Brook Ranch. I’m not leaving until I find him.”

1996

The girls are settling into the cabin. You set up your spot with Natalie. Wanting someone from home, someone who’s most familiar for tonight. You also felt a little awkward by the whole porn magazines and you’re trying to avoid Van now. But you weren’t going to make that obvious.

You clean your burn again, looking down and seeing the pus starting to go away and it’s only been a day. It made you feel a little better. You swipe the ointment on then toss the tube in your kit. “How’s that burn?” Natalie comes up behind you. Leaning her chin on your shoulder from behind.

“It’s better, I think it’s starting to heal. Finally.” It wasn’t really a lie but she also doesn’t know that it became infected. Knowing Natalie, she doesn’t know the difference with injuries like that. “That’s good.” She rubs your right arm soothingly. “The girls were worried about you today. Thought you were dying this morning.” She snickers.

You smile. “Nah, just extremely tired, dehydrated too I think.”

“That’s what I thought.” She closes her eyes. “I’m so ready for this nightmare to be over.” And just as Natalie says that, Coach Ben is heard from outside.

“FUUUUCCCKKKK!!” He screams.

The two of you booked it past the other girls. He’s fallen off the stoop and is in the middle of a breakdown. “Fuck, fuck, fuck! I can’t I fucking can’t!” He shouts, writing around.

His amputated leg moves around. “Why the fuck? Fucking why? Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you!!” He loses his shit. “I can’t do a fucking thing!”

Misty takes a step closer to him. “It’s gonna be okay. “Get the fuck away from me!” He flails his hand and accidentally clocks Misty right in the mouth. Her head snapped back. Ben freezes as she touches her lip. He busted it.

Everyone stops, all eyes on her as they wonder what she’s about to do. She slowly crouches down beside him. Stroking his head. “It’s alright… Shhh.”

“How can this… it can’t be like this now.” He cries. A needed release. “Why couldn’t I have died?”

“Because we needed you. And I am here for you, Ben. I’m here.” And for the first time, Ben doesn’t try to move away from her. Instead he leans into her. Needing comfort.

Later in the night you lay there beside Natalie, using her as a cuddle buddy like you would do at sleepovers. Your head laying on her bicep. You hear someone get up as it’s dark in the cabin. You raise your head, looking over towards the pantry. Taissa walks towards it. “Tai?” You whisper, getting up and heading over to her. Carefully not tripping on one of the girls. “Taissa?” She looks behind her to see you. She clutches her heart after jumping. “Shit, [Name].” She leans onto the ladder.

“There’s someone in the attic.” She points and you raise a brow. “How do you know?”

“I just do.” She says and you motion for her to continue on up then. You're right behind her. “Hello?”

The two of you step into the attic, noticing a figure right away. “Lottie?” You ask, she doesn’t move though. Not even blinking. “I told you.”

The two of you follow Lottie’s gaze and that’s when you guys see the mummified dead body, holding an old hunting rifle. Taissa grips onto your and the both of you let out a scream.

1996

Natalie whips the car to the left, a long creepy dirt driveway that has a sign for the Willow Brook Ranch. Then further down the driveway is a weathered Ranch house and an old Barn. She parks the car. The three of you climb out together. Natalie surveying the grounds, trying to guess on where Travis would be.

Misty quietly points out the light on inside the barn. You lead the way, warily watching out for anyone who could pop out of the darkness. You look upward and your face falls. “Oh my god, Natalie- don’t!” You try to block your best friend from entering the barn. “Oh god…” Misty steps back.

Natalie shakes the both of you off her and pushes the door further open. And that’s when she sees Travis.

Dead and hanging by a chain around his neck. Immediately dropping to her knees.

“No! NO, no, no!” She screams, feeling absolutely gutted. You drop to her side, pulling her into your arms as she sobs. Sirens sound off in the distance. “We have to go.” Misty quietly says. You look up as you hear them as well.

“We need to go, Natalie.” You push her. “C’mon, we have to go.” You stand up, pulling her with you. Misty leads the way from the barn.

Natalie’s stunned, quiet as you drag her to the car.

Misty speeds off, hurrying out of the area. It was calm but tense as Natalie was staring blankly ahead.

“He didn’t fucking kill himself.”

“That another lie?” Misty questions and Natalie frowns at her and not in the mood for games. “What?” Natalie sharply asks. Misty reaches inside her purse and pulls out the notepad to hand to Natalie. You look over the girls shoulders to read it.

“Tell Nat she’s right.”

“That’s the last thing Travis wrote. Why would he write that unless you two were still in touch?” Misty questions. “We were together, on and off. We started up again about ten years ago.” She tells the woman. “So what were you right about?” Misty moves on quickly. “I don’t know. But I know I’m right about this.” Natalie firmly says.

“Travis didn’t do this. Somebody killed him.” Natalie repeats and you glance outside. The sight of Travis’s body repeating in your head every time you blink. It never fucking goes away.

Taglist: if you want to be added lmk!

@caught-the-feels

@freakyjorker

@callsignwidow

@sjprongs

123 notes · View notes

back2bluesidex · 10 months ago

Text

Dear Darling - JHS [Masterlist/Prologue]

Pairing: Serpent king (imoogi)!Hoseok X Human!Reader

Theme: Angst, dark romance, smut, fantasy au.

Wordcount: 1.5+ for the prologue

Summary: After his bride flees from his clutches and reaches the realm of mortals to reunite with her lover - Hoseok has no choice but to chase her. Upon his arrival to the land of obnoxious humans, he crosses paths with you. You are a small, driven mortal who walks with a load of despair on her back. You are nothing but a delicious meal to him and he wants nothing more than to suck your life out of you, find his runaway wife and return to his kingdom. But much to his dismay, you ruin his plans, make him do what he never imagined doing in 600 years of his life - like making him fall in love and keeping him bound to you.

Warnings: Hoseok is cruel, there maybe some mentions of blood but nothing too crazy, eventual smut, heavy themes, quite dark actually (more will be added with each chapter). NSFW!!

Accepting Taglist Requests.

A/N: Got this idea in a dream.... that's all:')

Prologue | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Epilogue

Masterlist | Patreon (Early access to the chapters)

Jung Hoseok.

The name was enough to shake the core of dark creatures with terror. Even serpents like him would not dare to cross paths with him.

He is an ominous creature of the night, rules the realm of darkness. He stays under the shadow and attacks when his preys are at their weakest.

He is powerful, cruel, horrendous and everything that can be one’s nightmare. And to climb at the peak of his power, to rule the underworld with more and more ruthlessness - he must get married.

He was about to be completed with the coupling ceremony by now only if - his bride didn’t run away.

“Do you think I believe you, sir?” Hoseok speaks with a voice so cold that he can clearly see the shiver that runs down the subject's entire body.

The old man - or more likely - an old serpent is sitting on his knees in front of him. His head is hanging low, palms conjoined with each other to beg the king.

“You- you must believe me, my lord. I know n-nothing of the lady’s departure.” his voice is trembling but he keeps lying regardless.

Does he not know Hoseok can see him through?

“Really? I must believe you?” he laughs, one that prickles on your skin in the worst possible way, “then.. Would you be able to pay the price of my trust?”

The old being doesn’t say anything. One of Hoseok’s guards pushes the tip of his sword further in his side. That coaxes a reply out of him, “what- what price must I pay, my lord?”

Hoseok smiles, “I heard you have a freshly transformed son? Only a year old, if I am right. I was wondering how enjoyable it would be to rip off his very new scales one by one and then behead him in front of the entire kingdom?”

The old man jerks at that “My-My lord. No. I beg you no. I- I will tell you as much as I know.”

“That’s good. So tell me, where is the soon-to-be queen hiding? Down the sea or up the mountains?” Hoseok bends one of his knees to come face to face with his prey. His heavy cloak falls on the ground as if to make a carpeted floor for the king.

“She… she has fled to the realm of mortals. My- my brother, who- who is half human has helped her out. I heard that her lover, a gumiho, is settled there. But I swear to my kids, my lord, I don’t know where she is, how she fled. I only helped her in contacting my brother. That’s all.”

“What? What did you say? Realm of mortals? Her lover is a gumiho?” Hoseok roars, stands abruptly. His anger flares like a ring of fire and as a result dark clouds start swinging in the already dark sky.

The storm starts raging just as Hoseok’s anger, “Guards! Behead his entire family right this instant! And make sure he watches them die before having the pleasure himself.”

He ignores the pleas of the old serpent as he walks away. And even if he didn’t ignore those, what could he do?

The blood that runs in his veins is cold, there is no heart that beats inside his chest. Even monsters call him a beast. He is just that bad.

But he is even worse to the ones who betray him - like his wife-to-be, who has managed to flee from his grips, who also has fallen in love with the enemies of his kind.

Only if she wasn’t the chosen one - the one who can increase his powers by tenfold. He would have killed her right the moment he found her.

However, he can’t do so, not at least now. Before everything he has to find her. He has to visit the realms of humans, whom he loathes so much, to pull her between his clutches again.

“How are the Mins doing?” Hoseok’s dark eyes focus on the goblet of dark red liquid that sits atop the table.

On the other side of the table sits his trusted advisor Kim Seokjin. He is probably the only serpent in the kingdom, whom hoseok as a speck of trust on.

“Thanks to you, my king. They have been running a very successful business on the land of humans.” Kim Seokjin states.

“Tell them to prepare a comfortable stay for me there. I will be finding and bringing my bride back myself.” Hoseok orders. His fingers curl underneath the goblet in the meantime.

“My lord, it will not be wise for you to visit alo-”

Hoseok slams the goblet on the table interrupting his advisor, “Mr. Kim, do you perhaps doubt my capabilities? I assume you already know I am more than capable of destroying the entire mortal land all by myself.”

“Yes, my lord, I am well aware of that. I will convey your message to Min Yoongi.” Kim Seokjin stands on his feet and bends down on a deep bow before leaving the room.

Hoseok feels a buzz in his cold veins. He is eager to find out how love can be more important than the power he was going to provide Soojin with.

She could be the queen of this kingdom but she chose to fall in love with a gumiho instead.

Love? Huh! He scoffs to himself. He is proud that he can feel no such emotions. And he would rather have his scales rip off than falling in love with another creature.

Extravaganza.

These lowly human beings know nothing but extravaganza.

From the full glass buildings to the noisy music on the streets, they overdo everything and anything.

Hoseok’s eyes scans each and every corner of the mansion that the Mins have organized for him to stay. This, too, is extravagance in every way.

Min Yoongi, the head of this generation’s half-serpents, sits on both of his knees in front of Hoseok.

“My king, it is a reward to have a chance of serving you personally. Just name what you want, I will have it presented right before you.” he speaks like the obedient servant that he is.

“A job. I need a job.” Hoseok speaks absent-mindedly.

“My lord, forgive this lowly creature but did I hear you right? You need a job?” Min Yoongi’s confusion makes Hoseok smirk.

“Yes, Mr. Min. you heard that right. I need a job to blend with these mortals. I am certain my wife-to-be has put the tigerlilies at work. You might already know, inhaling the pollen of those flowers once is enough to be transformed into any other creature for two nights. And even the King, as I am, is unable to defy its power.” Hoseok comes to stand in front of Yoongi, his hands are kept behind his back.

His dark eyes find the pale man amusing and quite obedient.

“Yes, my lord. I am well aware of the magical powers of the flower. About the job - thanks to you, my business here is running well. I can arrange an executive position for you at the company, if you’d like.”

“Executive?” Hoseok raises one of his perfectly shaped eyebrows, “what kind of work do they do?”

“They don’t have to do anything much, my lord. I will take care of whatever work your position might be responsible for, you can invest your sole concentration on your task.” Min Yoongi bows lightly.

“I like your proposition. Tell me how to get to your company.” Hoseok takes a few steps back towards the staircase. The intricate designs of the railing catches his eyes.

“I will have a car ready for you, if you want to visit now.”

“I would like that.”

Hoseok climbs out of the car and stands in front of the large building that the Mins have been ruling with the power of wealth that he had gifted them, some hundred years back.

He scrutinizes the glass walls. His gaze zeros on his own reflection and he devilishly smiles at the way he looks so human.

Min Yoongi has arranged some clothes for him. Some black silk pants with a silk shirt and a short cloak that they call a blazer.

Hoseok has always been proud of the way he looks. But he must admit - he looks even better and more eye-catching in human clothes.

His, now invisible, scales rise under the material of his clothes when he senses someone else watching him from a short distance.

He projects his eyes in that direction and finds a woman with petite form, big pebbly eyes and a beautiful face.

It’s you.

With just one glance he sees right through you. He can see your breath getting stuck in your throat at the sight of him. He can see the cogs of your brain working and your heart leaping inside of your chest.

He knows you are getting attracted towards him. And that’s good for him. Having a human right on his foot as a servant can help him in tracing Soojin faster.

It’s one of his powers to attract his prey, like how a pitcher plant emits a sweet smell to attract insects only to eat those up when those near it.

But with those innocent eyes, that alluring face - it’s a waste that you are just another moth driven to the flame.

Permanent Taglist:

@phenomenalgirl9 @variety-is-the-joy-of-life @chimchimmarie @coffeedepressionsoup @meowstake @vonvi-blog @nochuel @chimmisbae @i-have-no-life-charlie @mikrokookiex @jjk174 @lallataegi @savageyoongi @jwnghyuns

#bts angst #hoseok angst #bts smut #hoseok smut #bts x reader #hoseok x reader #jhope angst #jhope smut #jhope x reader #bts x you #bts fanfiction #bts fantasy au #bts

274 notes · View notes

alonelybih · 5 months ago

Text

love drought - Jhea.

“ I have to go” Jey drawled out, his deep voice disrupting the calm silence.

“ No. You have to stay here with me” Rhea firmly whispered against his neck, pulling him towards her a little bit tighter.

Jey sighed rubbing softly her arm with his fingers in a slow up and down motion.

Rhea thought that if only he could stay right there, under the warm bedsheets, tucked into her side, clothes forgotten on the floor and both of their familiar scents mixed together. She’d be happy. Truly. Like she hasn’t been since the last time they were together.

But Jey was only there for the night. He got places to be, and he was supposed to leave ten minutes ago.

He was staring at the big window in Rhea’s hotel room, the lights of the nearby buildings being the only source of light there. The dark sky only feeding his wistful thoughts of staying a little longer.

Maybe he could stay the night, maybe if he skipped breakfast, the driver could pick him up from Rhea’s hotel in the early morning, and if the traffic was low, he could get breakfast at the airport just in time. Maybe, if he really wanted it, he could fall asleep by Rhea’s side, like he used to.

Rhea’s gentle breaths made her chest rise and fall against his while the low light coated their bodies in a yellow glow. As Jey peered down at the leg wrapped around his own, and at his hand slotted comfortably around her waist, he pulled himself out of the plans forming in his head.

In truth, it wasn't like it used to be. Back when they were caught up in carefree dates in different Waffle houses and fun rendezvouses. The countless hours watching tv and playing games and taking things further than they should, just to roll over and wake up as friends again. It's not like that at all now.

Jey was in Smackdown. They didn't talk everyday like they used to. He was rumored to be dating a new girl back in the other roster (which definitely made her heart ache every time she thought about it). Rhea got a new hairstyle . And a couple of other tattoos. Both of them have change a lot.

His draft to Smackdown changed everything and Rhea really thinks that maybe he doesn't feel the same way about her. Not anymore.

When in reality he feels like he loves her more than he ever could.

The physical distance between them never brought down the fire of their relationship. The sparks that reignited every time they saw each other made him realise what the butterflies in his stomach had yet to announce. The exciting reunions after time apart proved how good they could be and made him long for her more.

But it wasn't possible. Jey could see himself drowning in Rhea, turning his life upside down to be with her, growing to hate being in Smackdown because it's where she can't be, never once leaving the warmth her arms provided. It couldn't happen. Not now. Not when everything else was as good as it was.

Jey took a deep breath and took Rhea’s arm off him.

“No” he huffed quietly, “ I gotta go”.

He could barely look at Rhea as he sat up and pulled the sheets out of the way, fearing that any trace of disappointment on her face would pull him right back into the dream. He was careful in his movements but Rhea’s side immediately turned cold in his absence.

The drop in her heart went unspoken as she watched him slip his clothes back on. The heavy silence filled Jey with regret and he cursed himself inside. He squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head a little at the feeling of the mattress moving as Rhea pushed herself against the headboard. Just watching him.

Jey wished he could find the right words, certain that anything he could say at that moment would only cause more harm. So he sat on the edge of the bed, putting on his hoodie without a word, refusing to turn to meet the eyes that bore a hole into his back. Hoping he could stay.

——-

hi, i know this is not what i usually do but i’ve had this on my drafts for a while. and of course is angsty.

let me know if you wanna see something like this. i got a couple of ideas but idk if yall would be interested in reading them. ty<3

#rhearipley #wwe #jey uso #jhea #yeetality #prompts #daily dose of jhea #jey x rhea #random idea

84 notes · View notes

feedthepheasants · 5 months ago

Text

By Firelight

Remember this post from a while back, and this one from the other day? Well, if you were hoping to read the full fic, look no further than this post! (unless you want to pop over to my Ao3...)

pairing: Gale X f!Tav

wc: 2,785

[nsfw] there is sex in here. there is a mirror. there is hair pulling. there is some edging. there is dominant gale. there is also soft gale. i'm terrible at tagging things like this. i'm sorry. ENJOY!

The storm had come upon the city of Waterdeep before anyone had realized. Other than the pattering of the rain along the windows, the house had been fairly quiet. Tav had tried to do anything to keep her hands busy – tidying in the kitchen, folding her laundry, sketching – and failed. She’d also tried to get comfortable by the now-crackling hearth and read, but found she couldn’t force herself to sit still for that long. So instead, she’d decided to make her way down to the study to bother Gale.

He’d been so enthralled with the papers before him that he hadn’t heard her soft approaching footsteps; taking advantage of the moment, Tav watches him hum as he works, almost glowing in the candlelight. Gale pulls out his quill and scrawls a few notes on one of the pieces of parchment before turning his attention to another.

Without saying a word, Tav walks in, making her presence known. She’s halfway to the desk before he looks up, smiling when he sees her. “Hello, my darling,” Gale says quietly, setting down the paper and quill and turning in his chair.

“Hi,” Tav replies, returning the smile. She rounds the edge of the desk before coming to a halt, leaning back against the edge of the surface. “How’s your work coming along?”

“Still quite a bit to do,” Gale sighs, glancing at the parchment scattered before him. “But not too much. Is everything alright?”

Tav nods. “Just restless,” she answers, glancing out the window at the sky. “I thought I would go for a walk around the city this afternoon, but I don’t think the storm will be letting up any time soon.”

Gale looks over his shoulder at the window. “Well, it’s no walk in the park–” Tav rolls her eyes, “–but I suppose we could find our own entertainment…”

“Oh?” Tav says, raising a brow. Gale turns back to face her, a presumptuous smile spread across his face. She narrows her gaze at him. “And what exactly did you have in mind?”

Gale had a lot in mind, as a matter of fact.

It had started innocent and playful – Gale rising from his chair, caging Tav against the desk and lifting her to sit on the surface. Pushing aside the stacks of parchment and books, rubbing his hands along her bare thighs, selfish in his need to touch her. He’d tucked a finger under her chin and kissed her with such excruciating sweetness it had made her heart swim. More kisses had followed, peppered along her cheeks, the bridge of her nose, her forehead, her eyes. He’d continued on until she couldn’t stop laughing at the sensation, and had only stopped when she’d pushed him away for a moment to catch her breath; and at the sight of her flushed skin, the length of Tav’s neck exposed when she’d thrown her head back in laughter, he shifted.

The tenderness in Gale’s warm brown eyes was now pure, unwavering desire.

“What, Gale?” Tav asked a bit breathlessly.

He answered with a claiming kiss, taking her by such surprise that she’d let out a small moan, which only pushed him further over the edge.

And then, Gale had hoisted Tav up off the desk and she’d wrapped her legs tight around his middle as he carried her out of the study and up the stairs. The feeling of Gale’s hands splayed across her backside and rear had Tav’s heartbeat quickening. When she’d felt the bulge in his pants against her body, she’d leaned down to kiss along the column of his throat.

There was no time to make it to the bedroom after that.

With a wave of his hand, a soft bed of cushions and blankets materializes on the floor next to the hearth and before Tav can say a word she’s plopped right in the center. They barely break apart from the other as they undo the fastenings of their clothes. There were nights when they – usually Gale – took the time to tease and undress at a snail’s pace, nearly getting his pleasure from watching Tav squirm and whine and beg for it.

This was no such night.

The minute Tav’s breasts are exposed Gale’s tongue is there, dragging along her goosebump-ridden skin. She’s desperate to touch him anywhere, but as soon as she lifts a hand Gale takes it in his own before she can make contact.

“Lie down,” he says, barely able to remove his lips from her chest to utter the words.

“I want to–”

“Lie, down,” Gale says again, his eyes pleading. She knows that look, and she is not about to deny him what he wants – what he’s so close to begging for.

Tav lowers herself onto her back and shoves off her unlaced shorts with Gale’s help, eyes fluttering closed as he moves his attention back to her breasts, lips closed around one nipple while caressing the other with his ink-stained thumb. Only once he’s satisfied does he start pressing a trail of kisses along the underside of her breasts, down her stomach and all the way to the planes of her hips. His hands grip hard at her sides as he lowers himself even further, teasing Tav with his breath along her awaiting folds, knowing that with each second that passed, he would no longer be the one to beg.

Gale feasts, savoring every moan that Tav lets out at the movements of his tongue. He keeps his grip firm on her hips, but rubs careful, soothing circles with his thumbs along the bare skin there. After some time, Gale slides his hands to the backs of Tav’s thighs, spreading her even further for their mutual enjoyment. Tav takes a breath low in her belly and feels her climax building.

“Gale,” she breathes.

“Hmm?” Gale’s hummed reply reverberates through her, drawing yet another glorious moan from Tav.

“Fuck me,” Tav says. It’s meant as a command, but her voice is thick with desperation and Gale knows it. She swallows hard as Gale’s fingers press harder into her soft flesh, driving his tongue and nose deeper into her. “Please,” she whines, “I need you to fuck me.”

And that’s all it takes.

Gale frees his erection from his trousers, not bothering to take them off completely before nudging the tip of his length against her heat.

“Oh gods–”

“I’d prefer if you cried out to me, Tav,” Gale grunts as he sinks into her, “not the gods.”

It’s heaven to be joined with her like this. Gale’s loving gaze beams down at Tav as he eases in and out of her, brushing her hair from her eyes and neck as she writhes beneath him. She’s beautiful always, but like this – with her cheeks red and skin sticky with sweat – she’s something else entirely.

“Harder,” Tav whispers, pressing a hand flat against Gale’s bare, warm chest as she looks up into his eyes. Gale immediately folds his own free hand over top of hers, grounding himself as he drives further and further into her, acquiescing to her words.

The duet of their rasping breaths is his favorite composition, underscored by the crackling in the hearth and the rain beating hard against the windows. Their breathing becomes frantic and needy as they inch closer and closer to their mutual release. As Tav digs her nails into Gale’s chest, tugging at the patch of hair there, his tenderness once again gives way to pure, starving lust.

Gale slowed his pace, much to his own chagrin; but he’d wanted to watch – wanted her to watch him – as he claimed her. So, even through the crying out of every bone and muscle in his body, he pulled his cock from her.

“Do not move,” he says between breaths. Though she’d whimpered at the loss of him, the fervor in his voice gave her no choice but to stay put. In this state, she was likely to bend to any command – and gods, did he know it. Tav lies there, naked and warm by the fire, squeezing her thighs tight together for any sort of friction as she waits for Gale’s return.

There’s a thump in the corner, and then his footsteps draw closer. “Come here, my darling,” Gale says when he reaches her, taking Tav’s hands within his and helping her into an upright position. The threatening wave of an orgasm pulses within her, skin on fire where Gale’s fingers now brush curled wisps of hair from her sweaty brow. “Now,” he breathes, “I want you down on your knees, in front of me, watching,” Gale tells her, nodding his head towards the large, ornate mirror now propped against the wall. “Can you do that for me?” Tav barely manages a single nod before Gale leans in towards her and steals a hungry, wanting kiss, one hand cupping the back of her neck as the other rubs small circles to the inside of her wrist.

When they break apart, Gale’s steady hands guide Tav up and onto her knees. She takes up her position, palms and knees to the floor; she watches him in the reflection as he finally removes his trousers, lowering his fully naked body to his knees and slowly sliding his hands around the curve of her hips. Her eyes flutter with pleasure as he presses a lingering kiss to the base of her spine, but the sensation drives her to further madness when he whispers against her skin, “Lower.”

Without so much as a sound, Tav lowers herself from palms to elbows, arms stretched out in front of her. She watches in the mirror as Gale presses a line of kisses to her rear, fingers digging into her flushed, soft skin as he makes his way lower and lower. She gasps when his tongue and lips find their way once again to her cunt, throbbing and wet. One hand rises beneath her, and his middle and ring fingers begin working away at her clit, bringing her closer and closer and–

He hums against her as her muscles tighten with pleasure. As the twitching of her hips threatens to break their contact, Gale presses further into her, his free hand pulling her closer.

“Gale–” She chokes out, knuckles going white as she grasps the blanket beneath her for stability. “Gale, I need you inside of me– please–”

Another hum of his own pleasure sounds as Gale sits back on his knees, meeting Tav’s gaze in the reflection of the mirror. He maintains their eye contact as he moves closer to her, using a knee to spread her legs wider. Gale still doesn’t break their gaze as he guides the length of his cock to her entrance, sheathing himself back into her with one long, languid stroke. Tav revels in the sensation, closing her eyes as her body threatens to sink further into the floor.

“Ah ah,” Gale chides, pulling out of Tav. She’d begged too much, and now he’d wield her desire to draw out their pleasure as long as possible. “What did I say, hm?” In one swift movement, Gale threads his fingers through her loosened hair, twisting and wrapping his fist in her curly strands. His grip is gentle, but firm; loving, but full of command. He tugs, lifting Tav’s head to once again meet his eyes in the mirror. Tav takes in deep, ragged breaths, the muscles in her legs beginning to shake. “Use your words, my darling.”

Tav swallows hard. “You – you want me to watch,” she says between breaths.

The hint of a smile flashes across his face. His grip tightens on her hair. “Close your eyes or look away again, and I’ll stop.” Tav whines again but nods, and Gale’s eyes darken. “Now – are you ready for me?”

Gods, she could melt under the heat of his gaze. Tav nods again, biting down hard on her lower lip as Gale lines the head of his cock back up and pushes into her again. A low moan escapes him and it causes every single one of Tav’s muscles to tighten again – tighten around him – and it drives them both mad.

Gale’s thrusts are calculated and tortuously slow at first. With his free hand he grabs at the soft flesh of Tav’s hip to bring them closer. She doesn’t dare close her eyes again, taking in every one of Gale’s gasps and moans, each sharp breath. Tav’s head eddies out as she watches sweat begin to bead along his temples, glistening in the light of the hearth. She’s drunk at the very sight of him, and wouldn’t have it any other way.

As his own pleasure builds up again, his pace becomes more eager. He’d not yet brought her to orgasm – as Tav was brutally aware – but he’s determined to take Tav with him over the edge. He releases her hip and moves his fingers down to her clit, working in small circles, drawing another deep moan from Tav.

“Oh, that’s a good girl,” Gale says, looking like he might devour her right here. “Do you like when I touch you like this?” Tav nods, feeling her eyes flutter at the influx of sensations coursing through her. “Eyes open,” he says with another hard tug to her hair. “Do you like–”

“Yes,” Tav cries, “yes, fuck, I do!” The familiar coiling within Tav’s body begins to tighten again.

Gale leans forward, releasing her hair to brace himself at her side. “And do you like watching me fuck you like this?” His breath is hot along the shell of her ear.

Tav nods. A meager, “Mmhmm,” is all she can manage.

“I want you to finish with me,” Gale whispers. “I know you can, and you will.”

“I–” Tav shakes her head. “I can’t,” she gasps.

“Yes you can, my darling,” Gale breathes, lifting his hand from the floor and pressing it at the center of Tav’s torso, bringing her arched back against his chest and exposing her naked body to their reflections. The angle makes the sensation of his cock and his fingers too good, the crest of her orgasm nearly within reach. Gale’s tongue works its way along the side of her neck and when his teeth catch on her earlobe, she nearly finishes right then. “Tav,” Gale warns. “Eyes open–”

Gale mutters something along Tav’s sweat-slick skin, and in a moment he removes his fingers from Tav’s sensitive bud. She cries out at the loss, but is immediately quieted when another hand replaces it, shimmering an icy blue and nearly translucent in the firelight. Gale’s steading hands help lower Tav back to her elbows.

“Fuck–” Gale hisses. Though Tav’s gaze stays plastered to Gale’s face, his focus is to where their bodies are joined, his fingers pressing firmly into her backside, kneading and stretching and roving as he grinds into her. “Tav– are you–” Gale throws his head back with a gasp. “I’m about to–”

“Please,” Tav begs. “Gale, please–”

“Say my name like that again,” Gale commands, thrusting harder and harder.

The conjured hand at Tav’s clit is unforgiving in its pursuits to bring her to her climax, forcing her to stammer over her words. “G-Gale–”

“Oh, fuck yes,” he growls, bracing himself with one hand tight on her waist and the other gripping her shoulder. “Again.”

“Gale, I can’t,” she pants, her release seconds from exploding through her. “I can’t–”

It’s like clockwork, then; as Tav’s body gives in to the pleasure, her muscles constrict around Gale’s length and he can’t help but spill into her. Tav finishes with a yelp, and Gale with some kind of choked gasp. The corners of his vision begin to speckle as his release rolls throughout his body, holding tight to Tav as the thunderstorm howls outside.

The conjured hand is dismissed and Gale slowly withdraws himself from Tav, but is quick to kiss along her spine, once again roaming his greedy hands over her body and rolling her onto her side. He snaps his fingers and they’re clean in an instant.

“Come here,” Gale whispers, voice raw. He pulls Tav close to his chest with one arm as the other reaches for a blanket to cover them. Tav concedes, allowing him to move and adjust her in any way to be comfortable. He strokes Tav’s hair for a few minutes as their hearts calm, savoring these moments of intimacy as much as the impassioned ones.

And though Tav’s asleep in minutes, he still leans down to press a kiss to her forehead. “I love you,” Gale whispers, tenderness returned. Sleep finds him soon after, lulled by the rain and the warmth of his love in his arms.

taglist!

@dr-demi-bee @ladyofcrowsandcoffee @lanafofana

@marlowethebard @crimson-and-lavender @spooky-lil-bee

@12thhouse-sun @waterdeep-weavemoss @amorgansgal

@honeybee-bard (i figured since i tagged you in the two snippets, i should tag you when i posted the full fic lol)

#feedthepheasants #gale dekarios #baldurs gate 3 #gale of waterdeep #gale fanfic #bg3 fanfiction #gale x f!tav #gale x tav #inappropriate use of mage hand #i did in fact post more

101 notes · View notes

rs-hawk · 8 months ago

Note

(Batb) Belle can’t sleep properly because of nightmares,one stormy night she decided to go to the west wing,asking beast for some company,the problem is so beast has sleeping problems and he’s kinda self conscious about how he sleeps (probably naked) and where he sleeps (a smashed bed turned into an animal nest)

Once again apologizing for the delay in Day Six.

CW: mostly a fluff piece but does discuss nudity and themes of arousal, pregnancy and breeding. Intended for an 18+ audience

Belle always had a little bit of trouble sleeping, but when the rain came pouring down, it’s like she can’t breathe on her own. After hours of tossing and turning, she decided to make her way to the West Wing. While she knew that Beast has told her not to, she hoped that he would understand why tonight she felt like she had to. She just couldn’t be alone, and the furniture servants wouldn’t make her feel safe the way he did.

Cautiously, she made her way to the West Wing, not wanting to wake any of the servants up. She worried that they would make her go back to her own room. Luckily, everyone seemed to be fast asleep, and her footsteps were drowned out by the loud cracks of thunder that made the castle rumble. Each crack made another chill run down her spine, but that only spurned her on.

Finally, she got to the West Wing. It took her a little while to navigate the unfamiliar wing of the castle, guided by streaks of lightening flashing across the sky. There were portraits that she wanted to come back and look at when there was more light, but for now, all she wanted was to find Beast.

When she got to a set of heavy doors, she tugged them open, hoping that they were the doors to his bedroom. Inside the room was a mess, with a small table and a glowing rose shining on it. Her eyes were glued to the rose for but a moment, because in the soft glow of it, she realized that she could see Beast, tossing and turning in what seemed to be a sort of… nest?

“Beast?” Belle whispered, taking a few steps closer. Beast snored, curling almost into himself. “Beast, can I lay down with you?”

As if on cue, a loud clap of thunder made her jump, knocking over a chair. The sound of the chair hitting the ground stirred Beast from his fitful sleep. When his eyes met Belle’s, whose were wide and terrified, the anger bubbling in his chest immediately dissipated.

“Are you alright?” he asked, pushing himself into a sitting position. However, as he did, he realized that he had been in bed. As always, he wore nothing to sleep. Heat burned his face, making him grateful for the thick layer of fur covering it. “Why did you come here?”

“The storm,” she answered, looking down at her slippered feet. “I just… I hate storms. It’s hard for me to sleep. I was hoping you would keep me company. Could I sleep in your bed?”

Beast looked down at his nest, and his unclothed body, his nostrils flaring slightly with embarrassment. “Belle, I don’t think this would be very comfortable for you.”

“It’s okay! I’m sure is plenty comfortable. Please?” she asked, not realizing yet that he was naked, assuming he was only talking about the nest.

After another moment of hesitation, he nodded. “Fine. Come in then.”

Belle smiled, slipping off her slippers before crawling into the nest-like ruins of Beast’s bed. Only when she laid down, cuddling up against Beast, did she realize she could feel his cock rubbing against her leg. Her face flushed, making her bury her face into his chest.

Beast let out a low groan, her warmth making it difficult to ignore how badly he wanted to bury himself in her hot cunt. He wondered how she would look with her belly swollen with his child. How a ring he had inherited from his mother would look on her finger. The leaking tip of his cock only further made him wish he slept with something on, but it was too late now. Belle was dozing off, taking comfort in his presence. He couldn’t move her now.

Like this story? Support me on Ko-fi ☕ ❤️

91 notes · View notes

thecowboykatsuki-anon · 7 months ago

Text

Cold

TW: angst, smoking, drinking

Word count: 1011

The cold from the cement beneath you is more intense than you expected, the rough grit of it digging into the back of your thighs, that biting cold crawling up your skin and settling in your chest.

It's enough to make your hands tremble, clutching that half-finished cigarette like it’s a lifeline. But it’s not enough to make you want to go back inside, the music thumping from inside the house party is no longer fun, no longer inviting. Now all it does is irritate you.

Things were going so so well. You felt normal for the first time in six months. Up until that familiar leather jacket caught your eye, until those icy blue eyes caught yours for exactly half a second, not a shred of emotion in them.

That fun buzz from the shots had immediately turned sour in your stomach, twisting until you were absolutely sure you were going to throw up at that very moment. It had been rude, the way you’d shoved past the handsome blonde that had been mid-conversation with you, but none of that mattered when it felt like all the air in your lungs had been snatched away.

You’d made a beeline for the bathroom, barely making it before the tears had started, before you could properly muffle yourself with the back of your hand (Not that anyone would hear given how loud the music was, anyways). But even that precious solitude the bathroom provided wasn’t enough. You needed out, you needed out that instant.

You barely remember pushing past the bodies, head down, cheeks streaked with mascara. Don’t even remember sitting down really, or pulling out the worn pack of cigarettes- a brand you never even really liked.

Its crumpled in your lap now, that pack. Staring up at you, taunting you. Lighting one up was a mistake, because now all you taste as you take a drag is him. It tastes like his kiss, bites the same way too, leaves a lump in your throat like he did.

But you will not keep crying, you will not be that girl. That girl who makes a scene when she sees her ex at a party. At least that’s what you desperately try to convince yourself as the tears well up again.

At least he’s not out here.

Not that you expected him to be, not that you even hoped he would have follow you out. At least not out loud, anyways. You’re glad for that absence, for that blatant uncaring.

You wish you hated him for that, wished you were angry. That would be easier, but a tiny part of you was glad he was here, even more so that he didn't seem affected by your presence.

Because deep down there is something so deeply comforting about being unwanted. Especially by him.

Something so familiar in those long silences, those unanswered texts, that obvious avoidance, followed by empty promises. At least there was a pattern, something to expect. He did always warn you he was bad at relationships.

And then, like the universe senses your relief, the music gets louder as the door opens, and you don’t even have to turn to know who it is, that laugh cut short as he realizes who’s on the steps in front of him.

You don’t turn, eyes closed as you pray he just goes back in. But of course that’s not how this is going to go. There’s quiet footsteps, and then familiar boots settle on the steps next to your converse, a warm body entirely too close to yours, like he thinks he still belongs there.

There’s a long, uncomfortable silence, and then he finally speaks. “Can I have one of those?”

You glance down at the pack he's pointing to, and you crumple it in your grasp again.

“No.” Your voice is a lot hoarser than you wish it was, further evidence of your crying, and you curse internally. He doesn’t get to know how much of your attention he still has, doesn’t deserve that satisfaction.

He has the nerve to chuckle at your response, hand withdrawing as he leans back on the step. Casual, comfortable, while you feel like you’re dying inside.

“Thought you didn’t like my brand,” he muses, head tilted as he looks up at the night sky. He waits then, expecting a response, frowning when all you do is take another long drag, smoke curling around your face. He opens his mouth again, but you beat him to it.

“Go back inside, Touya.” you mutter, pointedly avoiding looking at him. He sighs at that, long and heavy as he leans forward, running a hand through his hair.

“You said we were good. Said we could be friends.” he reminds you softly, echoing the exact words you’d said when he’d called you out of the blue six months ago, called to end things.

“And you said you loved me, so I guess we’re both good liars.” You don’t mean for it to come out with so much venom, but it does, the alcohol and hurt burning in your veins making things that much harder.

He flinches at that, mouth snapping shut as his gaze hardens for a fraction of a second. But he doesn’t argue, doesn't object. He just sits there for a moment, letting the silence stretch.

“You seem cold.” he remarks softly, changing the subject easily, like he always did when things got hard.

“Go. Inside.” It’s not an order this time, it’s a plea. For any sort of mercy, for the chance to save what little pride he hasn’t destroyed. For him to just leave you alone. He was good at that while you were together, it should be easy for him.

And something in your voice must strike a chord with him, because he stands with a sigh, footsteps leaving, the music louder again as he opens the door and disappears inside.

But not before that familiar leather jacket is draped over your shoulders, leaving you alone in the cold with the bitter taste of him on your tongue, and the warmth of his absence.

#angst #touya x reader #dabi x reader #mha #dabi angst #cowboy anon writes #t writes #touya angst #mha x reader #thecowboyanon writes #cowboyanon writes

83 notes · View notes

arcade-chaos · 8 months ago

Text

Eldritch Scritches

Everyone say ty daycare friend pickup for this drabble

First person POV, eldritchy mer moon x reader, a tiny bit of 'last day on earth' before 'the sacrifice' but its not for long and theres nothing too scary beyond Moon shenanigans. Very silly and indulgent, enjoy!

You quite literally signed up for this. The village was sad to see you go, but you had offered yourself up and no one could think of anything to say to convince you. Everyone knew this needed to be done, you were the only barrier between the things beyond and your home.

Those who were rich enough left you all behind, desperately hoping to outrace the end of time itself, but this was your home and you were willing to do whatever you needed to stop it from coming to an end.

The town wished you the best of luck, treasures and sweet treats to make what they assumed would be your last day as lovely as possible. When the sun set you set off towards the beach and the endless dock, the wood worn but surprisingly unrotted by the tide. The ocean grew quieter the further you walked out, it took a moment to realize the stars were blinking down at you. You would show them no fear, even if your heart was racing.

When you reached the end you merely waited, glancing around for a toothy maw or an echoing voice. Instead the first thing you noticed was how black the ocean was, swelling not like a wave but as a mound. A spill of inky blackness pushed up through the water, little starry lights on its body winking and flickering as two larger ones opened. One red, one white.

“Mortal.” The world whispered, no other sounds daring to cover the ancient voice. “What do you have to offer me?”

Tales of escaping death flicker through your mind, of Scheherazade and her many stories, of trading souls of crows and deer to quell death's hunger, even Sisyphus's tricks (even if they did bite him in the end). All of those ideas escaped your brain as your mouth opened.

“I could give you some scritches.” The coil of blacky ink stopped moving for only the briefest flicker, the cool rush of air that slipped off his coils stilling.

“What.” It asked, quiet and disbelieving. Your hands came up to where his probably-eyes shimmered, grabbing at the frigid air.

“Y’know. Scratches. Pets.” With that he began to shift again, the eyes coming closer down, zeroed in on you alone. A god looking down at an ant.

“You think me a pet?”

“Afraid you’d like it?” An ant with hubris apparently. The air hummed as it thought, the fabric of space itself splitting as rows of teeth shimmered in the moonlight.

“You have one of your ‘hours’ to convince me this is a worthy sacrifice.” You have half a mind to make up some lie and say you can’t possibly touch him from here, but he coils again before you can think, the cold air that had been rushing your hair back suddenly turning as he shrinks down in on himself. His new form is more humanoid, with tendrils of that inky blackness instead of legs and a mouth far too wide. He grins, eyes red as the devil as his long arms come to rest on the dock. You don’t let him have the satisfaction of whatever line he's thinking up, instead you sit down on the worn wood and pat your lap.

Like calling a cat.

An ancient terrifying kitty who only wants food and prey.

Just like a cat actually.

His grin waivers for a moment before shooting back up, the night sky warping behind him as he moves too fast to hover over you. Even when making himself small he still needed to be bigger than you. Go figure.

“Hurry hurry.” He crackles, his head tilting at an unnatural angle.

“Eager.” Your hand meets his jaw as you stretch up, feeling the way the flesh ripples under your touch. Like petting a waterbed, surprisingly not as chilly as the wind he had been pushing around, that was a boon. He stayed quiet as your fingertips rubbed careful circles, glad you cut your nails prior lest he think you were trying to harm him (you doubted he would let you anyhow).

It took a moment to register what you were hearing, the chilling silence had been put away in favor of the normal sounds of night. The waves lapping at the beach far behind, the crickets even further, and the strangely comforting sound droning out of the body in front of you.

Oh gods he was purring.

His eyes that had slowly begun to shut opened to frown as you tried to suppress a smile, your other hand moving to cup his face. He shuddered beneath the little touches, leaning more and more of his weight into you until he literally fell into your lap. You snorted at the sudden intrusion, moving a hand instead up to his head to smooth it back. His hands clawed at the wood on either side of your legs, the purrs vibrating through your knees and legs.

His head was devoid of hair, instead topped with another tentacle. Little wobbly yellowish spots occasionally opened to peer at your face, forcing you to stroke his head with single digits unless you wanted to poke one of them out and ruin any chance you had at saving the world.

If they had told you it was this easy you might’ve actually let someone else do it instead.

Eventually your hands went back down onto the wood, the feeling of something not giving under you was both grounding and strange. The ancient one let out a louder rumble, then a louder one before popping up, glaring at you with the heat of a thousand volcanic vents.

“Why have you stopped, mortal.” He hissed, getting as close to your face as he dared.

“It’s been an hour, I figured I’d see if I’ve convinced you.” You were trying not to sound too cheeky, but he huffed and turned away anyways.

“You have done… Well.” His grin grew again, one of his hands coming up to grip your leg. “However, that was not enough to put me to sleep for even a year. This token was hardly worth the day’s end. You have until tomorrow, then I will eat the whole world.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow then.” You tugged away, dusting the splinters of wood off your legs as he watched. “Oh,” You turned, smiling as he straightened up a little under your eyes “They never told me your name.” His eyes tilted up at the question, his little tendril hat flickering about.

“You will call me Moon.”

“See you tomorrow then, Moon.” And with that you headed back towards the little town you called home.

Days and, more importantly, nights passed like this for a long while. It seemed that Moon’s hunger wasn’t only for the world, but also for any form of affection he could get. Most nights he would rest his head in your lap and purr, clawing at the wooden safety of the dock. One night you decided to start bringing a blanket and were delighted when he started kneading it like biscuit dough.

Little cat indeed.

Sometimes you two would talk while you sat, he didn’t have a lot of experiences to talk about, but he seemed to like listening to you talk about your day. The goings on in your life, the shock of the town that he hadn’t eaten you or their world yet, what kind of treats you made for dinner.

When you brought him a little pie he looked over the moon (ha), the cherry filling dripping down his hands would’ve looked a lot more terrifying if his ‘hat’ wasn’t wagging at 90 miles per hour. You made him wash the sticky mess before cuddling, and as a token for cleanliness you let him drag you into his lap. The vibrations from his mouth into the nape of your neck was ticklish, but not terrible enough that you regretted it. The little spines down his back curling into your fingers as though they were trying to snatch you up and hold you there forever.

That was the first night you lost count of the time, staying almost two hours before you realized your mistake.

“I don’t suppose you’ll let that count towards tomorrow?” Moon’s face scrunched more than you thought possible, making you giggle as you waved off the idea. “Guess not.”

The nights only seemed to grow longer from there, either by your own hand or by his (you suspected some nights he warped time to move just a little slower, but there was never any proof beyond his sly little grin and wiggling tendrils).

“You fell asleep during our time little mortal.” He purred, his hand cupping your face as you tried your best to stay awake enough to hear. “You’ll owe me more time tomorrow.” You were too sleepy to argue (despite the fact he definitely knocked you over so you’d be laying down), nuzzling back into the blanket for five more minutes that stretched on for a bit longer than they should’ve.

One night he was more riled up than you had ever seen, the ocean rolling as his tendrils kicked them up. He didn’t even straighten up when you called out to him, instead he seemed to pout even more.

“What’s wrong nighty?” Moon huffed, pulling you to the edge of the dock instead so he could keep kicking up the ocean (though notably the bubble around you two stayed calm).

“The mortals have made a terrible treachery against me! After I have been so kind as to allow them into my waters!!” Ah yes, another hour in favor of him letting boats leave the harbor to look for more people. Your hands rubbed over his tendril hat, squeezing it back as it wrapped around your wrist.

“Oh dear, what did they do this time.” Moon hissed, his fingers digging into the back of your shirt as he looked at you with an intensity that made your heart skip.

“They have made noises at me.” Your brain fizzled out for a second before the giggles kicked in, Moon whining in indignation as he buried his face into your tummy.

“Horrible! Cruel! Laughing at my pains! They make loud honkings at me like geese! After I was so kind!”

“Aww poor baby, how could they honk at such a powerful thing?”

“Terrible, laughing at my pain! You agree with their honkings!”

“C’mon now, I’m sure they were just trying to get you out of the way. Maybe they were thanking you for not taking out your wrath on them?” Moon huffed, rubbing his face against your shirt.

“A horrible offering. You owe me double for their treachery.

“Alright, alright. Just for tonight.”

It never was.

#moth skitters #does my little dance at yall #moondrop #fnaf dca #fnaf daycare attendant #fnaf daycare fandom #fnaf daycare au #fnaf moon #dca fandom #fnaf moon x reader #moondrop x reader #fluff #silly silly #i have no other thoughts just snuggles #maybe a follow up with sunny #moon fnaf #moon when boat honks at him: i have decided death for the world #reader: hey wait i live there :<#moon: ... i have changed my mind. for other reasons.

80 notes · View notes

acapelladitty · 1 year ago

Text

Handsome Jack/Reader - Possessive

Summary - Lounging in Jack's office, a bruise on your neck sparks a jealous reaction with a very happy ending.

(warnings for: mild voyeurism, jealousy, possession, choking, restraints, cum marking, creampie, orgasm)

The glow of Elpis, cracked and broken as it hung in the sky, filtered through the large bay windows as they stared out towards the evening sky. Below, scurrying bodies of Hyperion workers and loader bots alike swept across both ground and air as they went about their work.

Lounging on the plush sofa which lay with its back to the window, the warm air of Jack’s office was welcome across your scantily clad skin as you lay in a thick, white towel – your wet, freshly washed skin pressing against the towel for both heat and comfort.

“This is the life, baby.”

Stretching his arms overhead until a satisfying click rolled through his shoulders, Jack leaned his ass against his desk as he surveyed you with an appreciative stare.

“Could be worse.”

Smirking, you tilt your head back at him as he takes a few long steps towards you, his attention focused on something just below your head. Watching him with playful eyes, his day has been long and you can see the fatigue working on him as his smooth movements are more jerky than usual.

He stops just in front of you, forcing you to tilt your head up to meet him as you bat your lashes – teasing him with a simple look. However, something stilted in his expression makes your smile falter as he scowls.

“What’s that?”

Refusing to wait for a reply, Jack’s hand wrapped around the back of your neck – pulling you closer as he dipped low to examine the small bruise that you had completely forgotten was marring your throat, just to the side of your jaw.

“Had an accident.” You confess, inhaling the woody scent which made up his cologne. “I’d actually forgotten to say to you.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, yesterday morning. When you were in a meeting.”

“Convenient.” Jack sniffed, anger flashing in his eyes as your stomach drops at the sudden coolness of his tone. “So tell me. Tell me what kind of accident would leave a bruise like that?”

“Walked into a loader bot.”

In an instant, the jealous anger which fluttered through his features was gone; replaced by a full bellied laugh which belied the mania that continued to shine from his expressive eyes.

“Dumbass.” He drops your neck, and you breathe steadily as he continues, flexing his dark-haired forearm before your eyes. “Kinda looked like a bite for a moment there, pumpkin. But that couldn’t be. Could it?”

Wanting to tease him a little but knowing that any joke about infidelity would go down like a cup of hot skag shit, you tilt your head to expose the mark further as you adopt a teasing smirk.

“It could if you wanted it to be.”

His lips splitting into a predatory grin, Jack clapped his hands together once before they slipped up to work his tie – a familiar yellow shade with slight blue accents – free of his neck. As it came loose, he moved quickly as his fingers brush across the seams of your towel.

“Hey, if the lady wants an office quickie then who am I to deny her.”

“It’s not a hard thing to want when you have the king of the world ready to rock your world at the drop of a hat.” Buttering him up, you open the towel and enjoy the way that he visibly leers at your naked frame; his eyes flitting between your tits, face, and thighs as you twist your body into a more accessible position.

Now comfortably seated on the sofa, you spread your legs with a grin as he quickly strips himself of his work clothes. His shirt is the first to go, followed by his dark slacks and silk boxers – a tasteless shade of yellow - until he’s left in nothing but his tie which he quickly wraps around his left hand.

He descends on you in a flash, the sudden movement making you giggle as he presses his body against your own, pulling your legs high and pushing your ass back to allow him to kneel on the couch with his knees keeping your legs spread. He’s as heated as ever, his warm hands quick to trail across your skin as he quickly drops his attention to your tits.

Groping your chest with calloused hands, he hisses with satisfaction as you arch your back to meet him, encouraging his strong grip. His body is as lean as ever, deep white scarring littering across the tanned skin at odd intervals and you drink it in as your hands wrap around his forearms.

“Jack-” You pant out, ready to sweet talk him some more but he interrupts.

“Shut up. Don’t speak, just let me- let me touch what’s mine.” Jack growls, his fingers pinching at your nipples until they’re peaked and reddened. An action which makes your cunt clench around nothing as arousal makes you ache. “And only mine.” He adds with a possessive finality.

Nodding as you followed his demand to be silent, you play into his game with enthusiasm, rolling your body against his to touch as much of him as possible.

Fully animated, his expression is intense and predatory – his eyes darkening as he tugs and gropes at your chest until you’re writhing beneath him. Your own gaze falls to his cock, standing proudly in the space between you as a slight glisten of pre-cum touches at the slit on his head. Unable to resist, you wrap your hand around the base of his length and squeeze him gently, touching him in the way you know he likes.

His reaction is immediate, hands dropping from your tits as one wraps around your neck, matching your squeeze with one of his own.

“Frisky little brat.” He mutters, hand tilting your head as his lips drop to your neck - his blunt teeth worrying at the small bruise there as he bites at the flesh painfully. His mouth draws at the site, the pressure and ache making you more than aware of the livid mark he was no doubt leaving in his wake. “Maybe I’ll tie you to this couch from now on. Keep you here to serve as my personal fleshlight for when a hero needs a little relief?”

“Don’t you do that anyway?” You answer back, swallowing around his hand as it remains pinned against your throat. “Cause I feel like we do that anyway.”

“Smartass.” He growls, his free hand trailing down your heated skin to your cunt. In one quick swipe, he runs two of his fingers along your slit – feeling how wet you are as embarrassment flares in your cheeks – before pulling away, his fingers glistening in the bright lights of his office. “Hmm, I was going to take some time to warm you up but looking at how soaked you already are, sweetheart, I don’t think I’ll bother.”

Disappointed, you allow it show on your features as you scowl and drop his cock. It makes no difference to him as he laughs at the vague show of pettiness.

“Turn around, pumpkin. Face towards the window and push that ass up.”

Giving the instructions with a playful slap to your cunt, he pulls himself away long enough to allow you to adjust yourself. Now facing out the glass window, you can see the shifting movements of the various Hyperion workers as they continue about their work, unaware of the filth going on just above their eyeline.

Distracted for only a moment, you startle in place as Jack wraps his tie around your throat and you whine in place as he tugs at the fabric to test it out – the soft material pressing against your neck and forcing you to still as you breathe around it.

“Ready to get fucked, sweetheart?” Jack asks, his voice floating from the space behind you.

Nodding, you fold your arms beneath your chin as you push your ass as high as possible, tempting him with a slight, submissive wiggle. Your eyes dart around the window, a flush of embarrassment heating your skin as you imagine the workers catching sight of you; bent over like a whore as their boss fucks himself into your willing hole.

Never one to deny himself, you feel the blunted head of Jack’s cock sliding along your slit to gather up some juice to ease his entry. As his cock grazes your clit, you jerk in place and your lips forms into an ‘o’ shape as you silently wish for him to do it again. Your prayers are vaguely answered as the hand which isn’t currently holding his tie around your neck grips at your hips, the tips digging into the flesh so harshly that you know it will bruise.

Slamming his hips forward, Jack fills you with one brutal thrust and the sheer shock of being filled so suddenly forces a savage cry from your lips. It’s a pained pleasure, a familiar stretch made manageable by how wet your hole is and how well-adapted you are to his desires.

He sets a wicked pace, not allowing you a moment to breathe as his hips move with a cruel rhythm; pulling almost free until only the head of his cock stays within you before thrusting back in, burying himself so deeply that it sparks a dull ache as his cock glances off your cervix.

Reduced to little more than whines and gasps as you push back against him, you’re instead treated to his mouth which, even in the midst of fucking, is unable to switch off.

“You fucking brat.” He growls, matching his words with intermittent pulls of his tie. “Teasing me like that. Taking me away from my hard work just for this. Flashing that bruise knowing that it would get me all riled up and ready to remind you who the boss is.”

His body moulds itself to your own and his voice is heated in your ear as his hand pulls harshly at the tie around your neck, forcing your head back as far as it could go to meet him.

“I’d kill you, you know?” He grunts, his cock buried so deeply that you can feel the delicious pressure against your cervix. “If I thought that someone else was marking you like this.”

Unable to speak due to your constricted throat, you can only whimper in acknowledgment and your cunt spasms around him, his erratic movements making your walls burn as your orgasm teeters on the brink.

“Come for me, baby. Show me how good I make you feel.”

Only needing the instruction, you unleash a strangled cry as your release hits; your vision going blurry as you clench your cunt around him, determined to milk him through your own pleasure as your toes curl. He refuses to let up, continuing to punish your hole with vicious thrusts as he chases his own release.

The pressure on your hip lets up and a guttural sound escapes you as his fingers instead rub wicked circles around your clit, the extra stimulation borderline unbearable as it sparks fresh pleasure in your overly-sensitive skin – the nerves firing off as your legs tremble. Your walls continuing to spasm around him as you buck and writhe at the overstimulation, it only takes a moment for him to find his own release.

Abandoning both his tie and your clit, his hands grip on the sides of your ass as he buries himself as deeply as he can within your cunt; a long groan filling the air as his cock twitches within you and the heat of his release becomes apparent. He pulls free of you quickly and you moan at the sudden emptiness, his fingers spreading your lips as he presumably inspects your ruined hole and the mess which you can feel dripping free – a feeling which makes a hot shame burn across your skin.

“Oh, fuck me, sweetheart. That is exactly what I was needing.” Jack pants, his voice much more sated and rougher that it had been before your quickie. “I’ll never get tired of having you wrapped around me.”

Beaming at the praise as you shuffle free of the couch, shaky legs barely holding you steady as you use your hand on the arm of the couch to balance, you bring your other hand to your throat, feeling the heat of the abuse skin there flaring slightly as you roll your fingers around it.

“I feel like I need another shower.” You purr, watching as Jack stretches himself out once more. “Maybe you could do with one too.”

Humming at the proposal, Jack allows himself another quick leer at your frame; nipples still reddened from his earlier attentions and thighs visibly wet with your shared release.

“Ah, screw it.” He sighs, shifting his body so that he can land a frisky slap to the heft of your ass to encourage you along. “Lead the way, pumpkin.”

#a new first for me which is always a pleasure #handsome jack #handsome jack x reader #handsome jack x you #borderlands #borderlands 2 #handsome jack fic

141 notes · View notes

theelizamanelli · 4 months ago

Text

Tengoku

Reina Iyashi wants a normal, mundane existence until Satoru Gojo takes a special interest in her uncanny ability to bring people back to life (or so Itadori says) and offers her a job as his assistant at Jujutsu High. Tags: 18+, satoru gojo x female oc, boss x assistant, golden retriever x black cat, forced proximity, slow burn, romance, smut, masturbation link to all chapters link to ao3

note from the author: so sorry for how long it has taken to update this fic, I appreciate the comments/asks - they all inspire me to continue writing. I hope you enjoy!

——————————————————————————————————

Chapter Sixteen

——————————————————————————————————

Warmth spread along Reina’s face as she gazed at the sky, the sun beaming down. The suitcase trailing behind her clanged against the uneven sidewalk. With an exaggerated huff she yanked it over the curb.

Shielding her eyes from the light she drank in the sight of the tall building stretched in front of her. Striding through the door, Reina nodded politely at the attendant standing near the entrance - swiftly refusing his attempt to assist with her bag.

Reina scanned the lobby, her eyes landing on a familiar sight - a handsome white haired man leaning against the front desk.

Gojo tipped his glasses down to drag his stare along Reina’s body before piercing her with a smile. An unfamiliar sensation echoed through her stomach.

“Good morning, Iyashi.” he purred before handing over a card. Reina yanked it from his grasp, scowling.

“Good morning, Gojo. Could you have picked a hotel further from the airport?” Reina bit out, pulling her battered suitcase to her side.

“If you booked the travel arrangements, we would have ended up in entirely separate buildings.” he laughed, heading in the direction of the elevator.

Reina had offered to fly in separately, Gojo was requested at a meeting within the city a day prior. What would have delighted her mere months ago proved to be rather inconvenient. She hadn’t noticed the effort Gojo went through to ensure her life went smoothly.

He held the door open for her as she sidled in next to him.

“I am eager to see how you plan on making up for our last sleeping arrangements.” Reina rolled her eyes, warmth spreading on the back of her neck at the memory of waking up tangled on top of Gojo at the inn.

She reached back, placing her cool hand on the area - careful to avoid his gaze.

“Oh, you’re going to like this one.” Gojo stepped out of the elevator, leading her down the hallway.

He gestured towards one door at the end, “Yours.” Before his finger slowly moved to the one next to it, “Mine.”

“Good.” Reina pushed past him and entered her room. Her eyes darting to the side as she watched Gojo do the same.

She sighed as she closed the door behind her, placing her back against the wood. There was a feeling threatening to spill through her body. One that felt surprisingly similar to disappointment.

Pushing her suitcase through the room, she placed it in the corner before throwing herself onto the king sized bed.

“See? I knew you would like it.” a voice sounded near the entrance of the room. Reina bolted upwards, her eyes connecting with Gojo’s.

Her brows furrowed as she realized he was leaning against the frame of an open door - one that led straight into his room.

A slow smile spread through his face as hers burned.

——————————————————————————————————

A hurried knock at the door shattered the tension in the room. Reina continued to scowl as the gloating Gojo strode over to let in the visitor.

Itadori burst into the space, excitedly exclaiming, “Did you show her the conjoined rooms?”

“Did she hate it?” Fushiguro stood in the doorway, holding it open for Kugisaki before entering.

“More importantly, did she beat you up?” she asked with a laugh, venturing over to where Reina sat. She plopped down next to her, running her hands along the comforter. “Her room is way nicer than ours, sensei!”

“That’s because I actually like her,” he replied.

Itadori threw the patio door open, both of his hands wrapping the railing as he admired the water. Kugisaki muscled her way next to him, shielding her eyes from the sun as she mimicked his expression.

He pointed towards the beach enthusiastically, “Let’s go swimming!”

Kugisaki whipped around, looking at Gojo pleadingly. He pretended to consider whether they could, dramatically placing his hand on his chin.

“Get your swimsuit, Iyashi!” he exclaimed, the two raced past him and back towards the exit.

Gojo strode towards his room, he slowly inched the door closed - his face occupying the remaining space.

“That cute pink one you packed,” he winked before it clicked shut.

——————————————————————————————————

The ocean glittered against the sky, appearing to extend endlessly along the sandy outline. The heat clung to Reina’s curves, sweat beginning to accumulate on the back of her neck.

Repositioning underneath the umbrella, she looked on in amusement as Itadori attempted to push Fushiguro into the waves. He fought him off valiantly until Gojo snuck up behind, pulling him under with a hearty laugh.

Kugisaki stretched alongside Reina, propping herself onto her elbows she yelled, “Don’t let him treat you like that, Megumi! Come on!”

Reina laughed as Kugisaki stood - brushing the sand from her body. She raced towards the water, Gojo prepared himself for an attack with a smile playing on his lips.

Her eyes softened as he gently flipped Kugisaki into the water, careful to avoid her neck. The laughs echoing through the air were enough to warm Reina’s heart, a reminder of Gojo’s character.

She swallowed hard as he started towards her, the sunlight reflecting on his glasses and creating a sheen on his abs that forced Reina’s to tighten.

He towered over her, she watched a droplet of water slide from his bellybutton to the edge of his swimsuit. Her eyes dragged along him until she met his gaze.

His glasses slipped onto the edge of his nose, his blue eyes trailing her swimsuit before smirking. Reina straightened, one of her hands smoothing the seams of the pink fabric.

He leaned down to grab a towel, his arm brushing hers.

“You’re so obedient sometimes, Iyashi,” he whispered.

He chuckled as he admired the slow build of warmth erupting through Reina’s body. Gojo dried off before collapsing in a dramatic heap next to her. She handed him a water bottle, careful to avoid his gaze.

The sound of erratic splashing and squealing captured their attention. Sitting in silence, they were unable to do anything but admire the three. Reina stole a glance at Gojo, her smile faltering at the tinge of sadness in his eyes.

She reflexively reached for him, her hand resting on his knee - as if waking him from a dream he startled slightly at the contact. Gojo offered her a small reassuring smile, placing his hand on hers.

“Your students are lucky to have you for a mentor. Whatever happens, remember that you have given them every tool necessary to survive,” Reina squeezed his knee before releasing her hold. “They aren’t them, stop torturing yourself.”

Gojo leaned back, his gaze angled towards the sky. A long stretch of silence before he sighed, “You can’t be smart and hot, Iyashi. It’s not fair.”

Reina breathed out a laugh, shaking her head. Gojo stood up with a groan before turning towards her.

“Alright, your turn.” he brushed his hands off, extending one in her direction.

Reina furrowed her brows, “Oh, no.”

“Oh, yes.” Gojo re-extended his hand dramatically.

“Seriously. I’m good.” she replied firmly.

“Stop torturing yourself and have some fun, Iyashi.” Gojo raised his eyebrows in her direction, he gave her a moment to surrender. When she made no sign of moving he darted out, pulling her quickly upwards by the arm.

Reina squealed at the sudden movement, Gojo managed to raise her into the air in one fell swoop and was now gleefully carrying her over his shoulder towards the ocean.

Itadori laughed at the sight of Reina beating her fists against Gojo’s back, her legs kicking as the waves sprayed onto her back.

——————————————————————————————————

The steam curled through the air as Reina stepped onto the damp tile. A droplet of condensation rolling down the mirror as she wiped her hand over the surface, revealing her pink tinged face.

Her eyes followed the trickle of the water, reminding her briefly of light skin covering a muscled torso. Reina’s imagination drifted to what could be underneath that swimsuit, how easily she could drop to her knees in front of him. How good he would taste. How sweet his moans would sound in her ear.

“Iyashi! I require a kiss goodnight, please!” yelled Gojo through the door, pulling her from the fantasy. Shaking her head softly she wrapped herself in the robe before turning the knob.

Gojo leaned against the bathroom door, a pair of gray sweatpants sitting low on his hips - Reina’s eyes darted to the edge of the fabric before quickly returning to his eyes.

“In your dreams, Gojo.” she rolled her eyes, striding towards her suitcase. She found herself fighting the urge to turn in his direction if only to have the opportunity to admire his bare torso.

He sighed dramatically before returning to his room, leaving a noticeable gap as he shut the door behind. She watched as the light dimmed on the other side.

Reina continued to settle down, drying her hair and sorting through her suitcase. Bending over the organized section of clothes she slowly lifted a familiar pink set of intimates.

The image of Gojo’s outstretched, teasing hand dangling the lace flashed through her mind. Reina squeezed her thighs together unconsciously, biting her lip. Before she lost the courage, she stood abruptly - ripping the robe off and sliding the set on.

She jumped into the bed and pulled the comforter to her chin. Breathing heavily, the silence filled the room before Reina nearly burst into a fit of giggles at her idiocy.

She stared at the dark ceiling for what felt like hours - her imagination relentless and unforgiving. Memories turning over of her pushed against the wall of an alley or laid on top of a desk.

Sliding her fingers along the undercurve of her breasts, Reina mindlessly trailed downwards. She closed her eyes and slowly filled her vision with large, soft hands.

Tracing slow circles over the pink fabric, echoes of Gojo’s voice replayed softly in her ear. Reina could nearly feel his hot breath on the back of her neck, whispering words that she ached to hear.

A shudder slid through her body as a finger slipped underneath the fabric, gathering the accumulated wetness before increasing the pace. A small, strangled moan slipped from her lips - Reina froze.

“Don’t stop,” Gojo stood in the doorway, his hair tousled slightly - illuminated by the moonlight streaming through the window.

Reina swallowed hard, heat spreading through her body. Gojo slowly walked to the edge of the bed, his eyes dark as he stared down at her.

“I said, don’t stop,” he repeated.

She licked her lips, a small bit of hesitance before her fingers started to move again. Gojo reached out a hand, grabbing onto the edge of the comforter and sliding it onto the floor.

Reina lay bare in front of him, unable to keep her eyes off of his chest as his breathing quickened. He drank in the sight of her, admiring the soft curve of her thighs. She longed for him to reach out - to run his hands along her but he stood still.

“A little faster, Iyashi,” Gojo said firmly.

Reina hastened, her heart racing as she noted his growing hardness. There was a familiar tightening sensation beginning to build.

As if he could sense it, Gojo swallowed hard before he stated in a low tone, “Look what a good little girl you are.”

“A little faster now,” he slid his own hands along the edge of his sweatpants, “You’re such a good listener.”

A raspy moan slipped from Reina’s mouth, “Oh, fuck.”

“Iyashi, please, I want to hear you,” Gojo cocked his head to the side. He was intent on keeping his hands to himself much to her dismay.

“Gojo, please,” Reina moaned, the pleasure was riding a tight string - one that she could feel close to snapping.

“Cum for me,” demanded Gojo.

In an instant, she came undone - writhing against her fingers as Gojo stood over her.

Knock knock knock.

Reina jumped, her head whipping towards the door. Gojo groaned, extending his hand in her direction. He pulled her from the bed and slid the robe over her before answering the call.

“So help me God, if someone isn’t dying…”

“Too late for that,” Kugisaki stood in the hallway, Itadori behind her - noticeably out of breath.

Fushiguro leaned against the wall, “How about a dead body in the hotel lobby?”

——————————————————————————————————

chapter seventeen

if you want to be notified when a new chapter is posted

#gojo jjk #gojo jujutsu kaisen #satoru gojo #gojo smut #fanfiction #fic writing #fanfic #ao3 tags #jjk gojo #gojo satoru #jujutsu gojo #jujustu kaisen #jjk fics #jjk smut #jjk #jjk fanfic

34 notes · View notes