#or the 'can you repeat that in english please. i didn't understand what you said' | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

neosexuals · 6 months ago

Text

( pay attention ) — ₊ ⊹ ! Part 2

Synopsis : Mark is by every account the most popular teacher in your university. He was just that good, he was funny, charming, a good teacher and most of all he was drop dead gorgeous.

Warnings/pairings : smut (‼️) , english teacher! Mark , University au , reader is 20 mark is 27 , dom! Mark , sub ! Reader , mark uses fancy language cuz go figure english prof, mark is a meanie, makeshift tie gag??, pet names, reader has feelings towards mark? maybe?. use of the word slut, squirting.

A/n : 🤕 I didn't want to write big age gap tall I'm sorry 💔 maybe some other day. Also marks kind of a bitch (and I love it) not proof read :P @n4nam1i

Pt 1 pay attention

When it had reached the end of the day you had sprinted your way to marks office, he was sitting there. Suited up, his collar untidy along with his loose tie. "Sir?" You knocked on his wide open door you could tell it had been a rough day for him.

"yes?" His messy hair made it all the more worse, not only did you touch yourself to the thought of your English professor yesterday but it left you longing for him. "Oh y/n come in please" and so you did, closing the door behind you.

Before commenting on his fatigued look you helped yourself to the seat infront of him. "Tough day sir?" To say mark was one of those uptight teachers was a complete lie, being the youngest amongst them, he's always been one to talk casually to his students. "Sorry does it look bad?" He rushed in to fix his hair combing it down with his fingers.

"no it's okay" you pouted your lips at him, that was pretty assuring to him. "Fine uh let's get with it hm" with that you dropped your bag onto the floor before mark got up, you weren't sure what he was up to before he grabbed his chalk. Oh my god he actually started teaching you, repeating what he had taught to the class today since again you werent paying attention. Sighing once again, this was not what you signed up for.

He was confused when he turned back at you, why were you not paying attention? To him you were free of being distracted by him since it's a one on one class. But to you all you could look at was his fat ass and his crooked glasses.

"y/n I'm genuinely confused now" your eyes were already on him, just the wrong parts of him. "What happened now?" He stared at you sighing, taking his glasses off "sir... it's nothing Serious honestly-"

Cut off by his words "listen y/n I really didn't wanna do this but"a lie, blatant at that, another sigh escaped his lips "strip"

"what?"

"I said strip."

"but-"

"say no, and noone has to speak about this"

You weren't all apposed to the idea. Honestly you wanted it as much as he demanded, but it was quite embarrassing considering the situation, but it got you soaked. "Now. Are you going to strip or no darling?" That nickname. Your eyebrows furrowed as you stared him down from the chair, trying to understand the situation laid before you.

“Don't act dumb, you’ve wanted me..” he lets out a dry chuckle, your insides turning at how forward he was being. His glasses quickly being moved from resting on his face to on the desk, he moved closer to you, his breath tickling your ear “I’ve seen how you rub those pretty thighs under your desk, I’m not stupid you know" stepping back; sitting back down.

You started with your jacket, then your top. You couldn't bear him seeing you full naked "don't be so shy" he paused moving towards you "I won't look elsewhere" his eyebrows cocked at you along with a fake pout forming on his face, Pulling your arms away from your body.

God you forgot how hot the English language can be, his figure now towering over you as he tugs on the hem of your shirt before throwing it over your head. "Fuck" and other curses left him as he stares sinfully at the mere sight of your bra clad chest , borderline drooling at this point.

He snakes his hands down to your waist, finally inching towards the place you need him the most. His thumb slowly caress your hips, drawing circles atop it. "The skirt stays on pretty" the nickname combined with the stern tone causes your already weak knees to bend as you nod shakily.

He mumbled a little 'good girl' before slowly running his fingers up your thigh, his free hand moving to your nape, pushing your head closer to his. Too focused on the sensation of lips pressed against yours you miss when his singular had had slipped your panties down to your ankles. Sighing out a cracked 'sir' against his lips when two of his fingers press against your clit, His hand moving from your nape to your back, slipping down just enough to unclasp your bra.

he takes a step back as he relishes your body, eyes gleaming, his hands reach out once again cupping your cunt. "Sir.." you finally find it in you to look at hm in the eye, shooting a confused glance at him "call me mark darling" his breath hot against your ear ".....sir is...." - he mumbles- "odd" his words fish a giggle out of you, not to say you didn't find it hot but the contrast in tone makes your heart skip a beat.

Before he could earn a proper response out of you his fingers press onto your clit. "you shouldnt be laughing when your drenched down here...now should you?" you never missed the smug tone and smirk he threw at you.

"dirty girl " his lips latched onto your neck, soft and small pecks,You'd orgasm right then and there just by his words alone. His agonizingly slow strokes against your clit don't help either, letting out whimpers when he pressed the digits against your core. Small pleas leave your mouth over and over, his teasing topping you off.

"p-please sir" his eyes shoot up at you, removing his lips from your collar bone fingers still going back and forth along your slit "what did I say..? Hm Darling?" That was the final straw for him, one digit followed by another until it's a complete trio stuffed up your cunt.

“N-Not— MARK!”

that was all you could get out before going slack, dumb and cumming all over his fingers all way too quick. “That’s it….” His raspy voice fills your senses while all you can do is smile back at him, falling back down on the leather chair. You rest your head back as you feel your skirt and skin stick to each-other , you felt wet all over. “So good for me…think you could take my cock like this?” His tone sincere with a tinge of sarcasm.

“Hm? Think you could handle it darling…?” He lets out a soft chuckle watching your dumb state nodding like an idiot “yeah? You’re so dumb already” you open your eyes for a moment only to be met with a sulky pout. It’s not about weather or not you could handle anything at this point, to you, you just needed his cock. Letting out a string of pleas begging for even just the tip.

And after 2 or 3 tries he starts take of his own pants, completely naked other than the flimsy white shirt that lays atop him. “Shit i dont have a condom...” he muttered just loud enough for you to hear "I do..." He smiles at you and let's out yet another chuckle, you grab the condom out of your bag and hand it over to him. "Ofcourse you do...slut" the last word you could bearly hear but you could read his lips so clearly. It made you feel all sticky inside, the way he'd say the word so endearingly your heart had jumped right into your throat.

You had gotten into position by now, your thighs spread out sitting on his messy desk. Papers all over the floor and pens rattling around, you felt exposed. "Sir…..” you could only breath out the honorific "mark." His voice Stern once again before you could blink you heard the sound of a packet ripping. The condom, you knew it was the condom. "Now say please for me darling" you were melting right in front of him, arousal dripping onto his desk already exposed "please.....please mark" leaning in he kissed your cheek before pushing you flush against the desk legs dangling off the desk.

his cock sliding up and down your folds teasingly, his cock felt like everything you thought it would. thick just enough to have you holding onto him for dear life, begging to feel just a bit more of him.

"m-mark" his eyes bore into where you had intertwined , "yeah?" fuck his voice was so tantalizing "k-kiss..." a whine-like noise came out of you when he slapped your face as a response, cupping your flushed cheeks before kissing you silly "stay quiet now would you"

he so conveniently grabs his tie from behind you, would he tie your hands?

all thoughts fizzle out once he brought the bunched up fabric to you wide open mouth, muffling your whines and pleas as each thrust shook you right to the core, more things falling off the desk as he made you see heaven.

you tightened each time, the teacher who would always stay so pure and sweet was fucking you into oblivion, "shit- loosen up for me darling - fuck" you physically couldn't, his thrust erraticly pushing you closer and close "what is it? cock too big for your sweet lil' pussy?" you nodded slowly "yeah? you close baby" hearing him speak so casually was a dream nodding became rapid as you let out one last guttural whine, still muffled, as you came all over.

did you....it was a new feeling to say the least, leaking everywhere, you fucking squirted mark finally came riding out his and your orgasm "fuck- didn't know you were a squirter" he spoke as if he gave you the most midcore experience of your life ruffling the back of his head before removing the spit clad tie from your mouth, drool sticking to the tie "m' not..." Mark had never made someone squirt before, it was unbelievable , his eyes wide with shock "I've never.....squirted before"

"so i did that?" you nodded, still out of it. "fuck- you felt amazing darling i-" you could barely move so you'd hope you were a good experience "I'm glad, but could you help me sir?" his smile quickly faded "mark. or do i have to fuck it back into you?" he joked, as much as you would very much like that you wouldn't want it now, here. he helped you up grabbing your waist and wrapping your arm around his shoulders "there you go..." he mumbled.

you'd dress up as quickly as you could, as so did he, "y/n" he had called out as you tried to get as much of shit you'd thrown on the floor back on his desk, catching your attention you looked up at him, "i mean it, you were amazing, and i wouldn't mind doing this again" you felt as if you could burst. all you could do was smile and nod "you were amazing too....if you hadn't noticed"

after cleaning up finally, you had left his room, a dopey smile spreading across your face as it all sits in.

#nct smut #nct dream smut #kpop smut #kpop fanfic #nct 127 smut #kpop fanfiction #mark smut #mark lee smut #mark nct smut #˚｡౨ৎ Aros fics

298 notes · View notes

dilf-docs · 5 months ago

Text

Misery Reigns My Lonely Neon Nights

old man!logan x younger fem!reader

summary: logan should've said no. should've just drove the pretty waitress home. that's his job. hers is to serve his cup of coffee to the brim. so why is he riding you to his house?

warnings: 18+ (minors dni), age gap (cause we have a small daddy kink going on here.. hence the blog name BUT I DO HAVE A GOOD DAD), smut, this reeks of corruption kink for no reason other than me being a virgin whore, like he gets stalker-ish for a second but its logan howlett so we forgive him<3 ya está viejito, brief mention of suicide, sub logan edging on praising kink (if u squint), no protection but u gotta put the hat on the cowboy to ride the horse alr, riding, breeding kink??? angst (the depressing vibes are there cause they follow my writing like a shadow ijbol)

word count: 6,102 words (at the v crack of dawn.. i think i've gone insane FR it's 02:07 am and my brain its eating itself like im gonna start seeing logan in the corner of my room)

side note: newbie here after reading so many fanfics on tumblr but never publishing my own!! its hugh's birthday (well, its past midnight so no more but still!!! it was a couple hours ago) so i figured i should give it a try today cause that man does things to me ESPECIALLY as old man logan i can't lie and say the thought of him fucking me good and slow hasn't crossed my mind too many times 😩 we love sad hot old people in here so naturally my inaguration fic had to be done by him. also, i'm tired of scrapping for votes, comments, and interactions on wattpad so please treat me well during our first:// it's me moving to tumblr it's me hi i'm the problem it's me. i'm a feedback whore so pls leave tons of those!! also, english isn't my first language so if i make a grammar mistake pls do not tell me bc i have no respect for this language ―it just makes me cringe less to write smut on a language that isn't mine lol<3 but if there's any other mistake yes pls do tell me thank u OKAY BYE i needa quit yapping ENJOY dilf town<3

So it started something like this.

It was another simple nightshift for Logan. The weather humid, uncomfortably sticking the fabric of his white button shirt onto his skin. Even with the windows down. Those nights that the driving dragged on for long, like those cigarettes that now made him cough more than relax. The roads felt too long; his eyes too heavy.

Nothing new. Just about what to expect: money short, clients and traffic equally annoying. But that was the problem; nothing was new anymore.

He'd just finish dropping a customer close by, and since the tiring feeling didn't seem to leave his body just yet, a coffee wouldn't hurt. As a matter of fact, the need for a boost to make it home makes him get out of the car and limp his way into the first place his tired vision sees.

The rim of his recently adquired reading glasses slips as he climbs the stairs into the decades old diner, the decoration outdated. He understands; he feels the same way.

Neon lights flash his face when he enters the place and sits in the farthest booth he can find. The air is impregnated in grease and cheap coffee, but he waits at least fifty minutes to order, giving his body some time to rest. In the meanwhile, he tries to distract himself with the newspaper resting on the table, but God knows his eyes are too tired and his mind drifts every two words.

He hopes he doesn't get kicked out, judging from the attentive look he's receiving by a waitress resting on the bar. She looks as bored and tired as he does.

Maybe that's why he chooses her, raising his hand with order in mind. A black coffee. The waitress slides from her position and takes some steps to where he sits.

Her voice is sweet when she introduces herself, and Logan finds himself asking her again what her name is, pretending he's half deaf just to listen to it again.

"It's y/n" you repeat, oh so sickeningly sweet, he might have to skip on asking for sugar.

"Y/n" he savours the name on his lips, trying the tender sound, his eyes darting to the name tag, like he's confirming it. Testing to see if the young woman in front of him is real. Maybe his eyes linger a little too long, and the tip of your ears start to heat. Its the way he examines every feature on your face, like memorizing it in a sense, that makes you squirm. But maybe, just maybe, it's the small―brief, peak he gives to your exposed cleavage, pushing itself against the tight fabric of your uniform what truly gets your heart beating fast.

He looks like what your parents would warn you to stay away and your friends would talk behind your back. Rugged in a way that screams heartbreak, rough around edges your kind nature wishes to soften. It's unresonable to feel this way about a client you just met, but his aloof demeanor peaks your interest, so different from your usual costumers and familiar faces that pop up at the diner.

"Can I order you, darling?" his voice comes out deep, almost passing as a grunt. Just what you imagined it to sound. Why he's acting as his past self so effortlessly, after closing himself off to the point of going by entire days without talking more than three words, is concerning. Why the cute waitress who looks at him with doe eyes, expectant to take his order, is making him break the promise he made to himself not to get attached again―just live by enough to make it to the sea and put a bullet in his head.

"Well, that's just about my job" you joke, feeling confident for no reason. "But you can't order me".

"A damn shame" he chuckles, the sound deep, rumbling on his chest. It's been so long since he's laughed like that: carefree, without that pressing weight on his chest, that despite the sinking notion, sometimes feels more like a hole carved where his heart is supposed to be.

"So..." you trail off, unsure where to proceed after that sound that jolted your entire system awake, "what will you take?"

The banter dies, and Logan is dissapointed when she scribbles the dark coffee on her pretty round letter and walks away. He doesn't miss the sway of her hips, and almost calls her back just to hear her voice again. But he stops himself, because it's getting pathetic.

When she returns with her order, he almost regrets the comeback of his enhaced senses, her honeyed perfume mixed with the bitter smell of the freshly brewed coffee, creating an intoxicating mix.

His lips burn when he sips it, but that doesn't stop him from emptying the cup. Again. And again. All in the name for asking for more coffee, a magnetic force pulling him to the ground, making him forget he's a 200 and something year old man begging like a starved man for at least a fraction of her attention. He feels unworthy of your warmth.

He feigns interest on the newspaper when you return again (he's been stuck on the same paragraph ever since he sat down), the pot in your hands. If you've noticed he's emptied the cups faster than a normal person, you don't ask questions. He's thankful, but can see the amusement and confusion laced across your pretty face.

"More?" you ask, but it's unnecesary. He only nods, and you miss the chatter.

The closeness it's a challenge itself, the uniform's neckline practically shoved down his nose while she fills the cup to the brim. He hears his own heartbeat, the sound averting his attention from another "brief" glance at the cleavage. Is it intentional? Is your goodwill and act? Are you this cruel, playing with an old touch starved man like that?

God knows it's been long since he's had a helping hand during his relief hours.

He can't help it; he's a man, after all. So he seizes the moment and steals a glance. But his eyes meet yours, the wary green clashing with the cozy chocolate. There's warmth on your eyes, and he's looking at your tits like an animal. He pulls away, ashamed. The shirt feels a bit suffocating, and there's sweat on his forehead again. Great, you'll think he's a perv.

"Excuse me" you say, leaving his table. Logan is afraid of having fucked it up for thinking with this dick and not with his head. You were messing too much with his head, and now he'll pay the price. Fair, he thinks, for a perverted old man trying to woo a girl younger and far more innocent than him.

There's benevolance on her smile and blood on his hands.

The whole situation is stupid.

But then he's thinking of excuses (like saying it's his failing eyesight's fault) and something close to an apology, as if he cares a little too much about what you think. And then you come back.

"I forgot to bring you a napkin" she lies, leaving the piece of paper in the middle of the table. You laugh, and Logan let's you because 1. He deserves it, and 2. It's a sound as saccharine as the smell the freshly heated pies emit on the table across him.

You leave before he can even open his mouth, so all he's left with is the napkin that seems to have something written on it. Pervert, he reads, on the same calligraphy you scribbled on your bloc. He can't help but laugh, even with your watchful look on him.

That's how it continued.

Even if he had other rides and more energy to drive, he kept coming to the decaying diner just to see you. Almost as if he was forgetting his desperate need for the money, the boat goal further and further.

"You've forgotten about me" complained Charles, although his tone lacked of bite. "But I'm not mad that you've had".

He'd go on, rambling about living life but Logan just laughed. Yet, maybe he was right. Didn't even need his powers to know it.

Now, you? you simply couldn't get enough of your favorite costumer. Of his late stays until you closed, sometimes not muttering more than necessary, yet his company, even if curt, proved to be what you needed to make it through work, giving you a legitimate reason to yearn the before tedious night shifts.

Despite this two month weird relationship, Logan is as a stranger to you as he was the first day, no matter how many times you've tried to get him to talk. In the end, all your conversation efforts feel more of a monologue than a chat.

He knows about your mom and your dad, one strict the other dead. He knows most of your friends names, what you're studying and what you wanted to. Your dreams and your hopes, your aspirations, failures, and some other things you'd never say to anyone else out loud. All and nothing. And he listens, sometimes asking questions, but never about himself. He never takes the lead.

So frustration from the Logan enigma pours into you, the puzzle pieces layed out over your mind, consuming your thoughts. So now you're stubbornly cleaning the same grease spot on a table you've already wipped before, and that, coincidentally, it's the booth in front of Logan, the permanent resident of your head during these past weeks. You might as well make him start paying rent by now, his power and hold over you ridiculous.

"It's not going anywhere. Take it easy" he mocks you.

There's a bit of annoyance when you reply back, although it's mostly superficial. "Don't know what you're talking about" comes out your dry response, earning a low chuckle from him.

"How about you sit for a moment?" he offers, ignoring your apathy. "You're almost done cleaning up".

If his ever changing attitude isn't enough, closing this night's shift is as tiring.

Logan doesn't expect you to obey, but now you're sitting across from him, and a voice in his head says you maybe feel sorry for this lunatic old man.

You're so close, he can see the eye bags and sorrow you are far tired to try to hide.

"I have to finish cleaning" you explain, "we're about to close".

He doesn't know why he says it, or what takes over him when he says:

"I could wait for you"

He surprises himself and surprises you too.

"No need" you assure, and why does he feel so dissapointed. It's stupid. "My friend picks me up".

Ah, yes. The friend with the perfect stupid smile that picks you up every night. Not like he parks his car until you leave and sees the scene unfold each time, his white knuckle grip on the wheel a bit too much when the young boy opens up your door. Makes him see red, knowing he's your age and maybe the breathe of fresh air you need. Not a man far older, who bears too many sins and scars in and out.

"I see" he says after some minutes in silence, retracting his impulsiveness. "I'm sorry if I made you-"

"No!" you clarify hastily, "it doesn't bother me".

He smiles unconsciously in relief.

"Well, me neither. I insist. If you change your mind" he's practically begging, despite his monotone tone.

But you don't.

The place closes and Logan is forced to get in the car. He lights a cigarette, in no hurry to return home. The lighter lights up while the diner's light goes off. You and your boss come out, biding each other goodbye. She leaves and you're is left alone, hugging your body in the early morning cold.

He sees you wearing particular clothes, for the first time. He takes a slow drag on his cigarette, eyes running up and down your bare legs, the fragile fabric of the skirt fluttering in the wind. He exhales, watching as you dials your phone several times, getting no response, obviously frustrated.

He mutters something under his breath, and maybe there is a God after all. He starts the car, approaching her, who has already noticed it, probably because of the noise of the engine.

She looks scared, but Logan rolls down the window so she can see it's him.

"Need'a ride?"

Just by his reverberant sound you could accept. But you try to play cool for a while, despite your aching bones and need to get home.

"He doesn't answer" he was right, "my friend".

I know, he wishes to say, but he's the same hot headed asshole who walked through the doors of the X mansion for the first time, so his tone will be laced with irony. He doesn't want you to see him as an intense hot blooded mouth.

I could take you. His head pounds but he shuts the emotions down.

He shoves the knot on his throat down and asks as casually as possible, "do you live close?"

"Just around the corner" you answer. A beat, your frame bending so he can see your face from the driver's sit, the cleavage saying hello again. How considerate of you. "Do you really want to do this?"

Do you really want to do this?

The question rings on his ears. It holds more than just the favor. Logan knows they have a certain tension between them that he no longer wants to ignore. For the first time it seems to be reciprocated; palpable, and he is surprised to hear his heart beating loudly, so accustomed to hearing others' with his sharp senses, constantly forgetting what his own sounds like. Yours also beats erratically, despite your calm composure.

You arch an eyebrow, amused. "I can't believe you waited for me. Your family must be worried."

Logan realizes you're trying to test waters. So he raises his hand discreetly and places it on the door, so you can see the lack of a ring. As expected, your eyes travel to his free finger, and he can swear he sees you breathe with relief, which is funny, because in case you hadn't picked up until now, Logan is very much fucking alone.

"In case you changed your mind," he answers. "I have nowhere else to be."

That is enough of an invitation for you to get in the car.

"I was going to open that door for you" he protests.

You only laugh as you buckle the seatbelt. "It's not that big of a deal, really. You've already done enough for me by doing me the favor".

"It's not that big of a deal" he repeats your words, "as long as I'm of help, that's enough for me".

He smiles wistfully, remembering better times. A part of him still aspires to be that hero everyone loved and remembered, something that clearly doesn't happen anymore (or if it does, it's rare), given the lack of recognition of his former identity in El Paso. He shakes his head, focusing back on the street in front of him. It's too late to get fucking sentimental.

"I like to help too…" you confess, meekly. Logan sighs, how could he not know? "My father used to say that I had the kindest heart he'd ever met. I hope it stays that way, and that when he looks down on me, he's proud".

It hurts Logan to see you be so hard on yourself, as if he didn't do the same.

"I bet all the customers in the place would say you're the sweetest thing they've met", he sees you smile from the corner of his eye, and can't help but emulate it. "Believe me, you're their favorite".

"Thank you, Logan" you say sincerely. However, the affliction that he hates to see crosses your face. So gloomy that you don't even seem the same person.

You wipe away an unexpected tear, but Howlett is faster and notices. You turn around, looking towards the window. Then, you catch a glimpse of his license.

"So… you're a driver" you try to break the silence that Logan has put without knowing why. Maybe to give you some space after being sentimental and opening up again to this closed off wall name Logan, but he knows it's a lie. He's scared. After wanting so much to be closer to you, he cowers, not trusting himself and what he would do trapped in a small space with such an attractive woman. Besides, the tension from the previous conversation was still there.

"You judging me now, honey?" the pet name rolls off his tongue before he catches it. He tries to play it cool, continuing the banter, carrying the same tone. "The only thing necessary to make you trust me was to give you a free ride?

"I'm in your car, Logan. I got in without thinking" you laugh. "I believe that's enough trust"

"Then, I'll keep doing you favors. Maybe if I do…" he trails off.

Your voice drops an octave, provocative. "Maybe what?"

His knuckles grip the steering wheel until they turn white.

"Maybe…" he hesitates, "maybe…"

"It's here" you point out. Shit, Logan curses, braking abruptly without meaning to.

"See you tomorrow" you bid as a goodbye, getting out of the car. Logan misses your smell.

So he sticks his head out the window, like a begging dog.

"How about now?" he says a bit forcefully.

Your face shows surprise and something else.

"You're getting attached" you reply, and he doesn't know why there seems to be sadness in your voice.

"I just keep coming back for the coffee" he defends himself.

You laugh, shaking your head "Now, then. For the coffee, clearly."

"I can leave" he says. Yet, makes no move to leave.

You sigh, giving him one last look. Surrender, he reads.

"You're a driver, right?" he nods, taking in every word coming of your pink plush lips. "Then let's drive off. Anywhere" your voice trails off, and you're just so tired of everything, you'll just let go yourself with the flow. "I'll go wherever you go..."

And this is how it ends.

When you wake up, it's almost dawn.

Logan had suggested you to sleep, claming the road where he was taking you to be long. He had covered you with his jacket, even if your body was burning from nerves.

Why had you agreed? Your mom would probably smack your head in search for some sense, and your reckless friends would encourage you to do it for the sake of a story. But something about Logan makes you feel safe, despite not knowing anything from him. It's sort of a sense of protection―like he would never hurt you, that envelops him. Everyone else would call you crazy; only you can understand that.

When your eyes adjust to the light, you realize you're in a line of cars.

"Did you bring me to the border?" you exclaim groggily, still in a sleepy voice.

"Good morning" he answers instead.

You rub yoou eyes, settling into the passenger seat.

"You're not going to kidnap me, right?" you question, half joking half serious.

Logan laughs, "Not only that. I'm also going to throw your body in a mass grave"

"It's not funny," you pout, although you're laughing too.

Once you've crossed the border, Logan drives a few more minutes, until he reaches a restricted area.

“I live here” he answers before you can ask, “saves rent and questions”

After opening the locks, you can better appreciate the place. Well, appreciate may not be the right word.

“It's an abandoned smelting plant” you voice out loud.

Logan just nods. You realize that he didn't like the comment, so you try not to talk about it anymore.

“Come” he gets out of the car, going to open your door. He offers you a hand, and you fail to hide your smile.

“You didn't miss this time, huh? Quite a gentleman” you praise. Then, add jokingly, “if you choose to kill me, at least I'll die taken care of".

“Stop talking nonsense and go inside” he scolds but smiles.

Inside, the abandoned plant is exactly what you expected.

"We're alone" Logan says, after leaving to check. He opens the door to his room, letting you in. There's not much inside, just a bed and scattered things. A yellowish light begins to filter through the broken glass. "I'mma change. Be right back".

You begin to explore your surroundings, to avoid thinking about the impact of the situation. Two things could happen: leave or stay. Maybe everything was going too fast, but you prided yourself on your spontaneity, often confused with impulsiveness. Others would say it was your naive nature: too innocent for your own good.

What had led you to accept without further ado? Was trust enough, that you had even fallen asleep in his car?

"S'rry for the wait"

You notice that Logan's gotten rid of his formal attire, leaving him in just slacks and an old white tank top. His muscles flex with every movement, making you swallow involuntarily. He still retains his extraordinary physique, despite his greying hair. She can't help but stare at the scars that cover his exposed skin, her fingers itching to trace them.

"Haven't they told ya' t's rude to stare?"

You look away, embarrassed. Logan walks over to the bed, bumping into you in the process, bodies barely touching. Still, an electric shock runs through you. You hug yourself, scared, aware of the effect he has on you.

"Logan" she dares to ask, "what are we doing?"

He finally looks at you. You feel naked under his intense gaze.

"What do you want us to do?"

His voice comes out low, like a growl. You stand in place stiff, unable to form a word.

"Come on, honey", the nickname comes out of his lips so easily, it hurts. "Are ya losing your voice now? Got into my car a while ago without thinkin', what's changed?"

You slowly approach Logan, each stride calculated. He watches you in silence, a silence as hostile as the wind hitting the broken windows, watching you remove your clothes, until all that's left is your bra and that skimpy skirt, as if you knew he liked it.

"Logan…" you whisper his name like a prayer, letting yourself fall on his legs. He holds you with his hard calloused fingers, like a promise.

"Use your words, sweet thing" the trepidation condenses between, "we're grown up now, aren't we? Use your words"

Don't let me fall. Don't let me go. Don't leave me.

If by words he meant feeling your lips against his, it's enough to have Logan following his impulses, using his strength to embrace your body until they feel like one, the scars on his hands feeling like your own. Your lips move in sync, and it's almost so casual, so learned, so meant to be, that fear appears in Logan, soon forgotten with the symphony of moans that come from your lips.

"Tell me" he pauses, breaking away from the kiss (something you don't like and express in the form of a pout), "what do you want?"

Logan tastes like cigars and whiskey, a combination you hate and the reason you quit your old job at the bar, but on his lips, it's an intoxicating taste.

"I want you, Logan" you whisper, hot breath against his skin, “you”.

He resumes the kiss, an electric shock of hunger and need between you: lips parted, colliding, teeth almost clashing against each other.

His fingers hesitate with a delicacy that belies his rough touch, the tips of his worn fingers lifting the fragile cloth of your skirt first, revealing soaking wet panties he goes crazy just at the sight of. The smell is sugary, sicklingly, so now he's hard and pulling at the clasp of your bra first, exposing your nipples, which he rolls and pinches mercilessly. A gasp escapes you—then another, and another as Logan pushes his thigh between your legs. The friction is delicious, almost painful against your pulsing center.

His hand firm up his position, securing itself onyour bare legs as you digs her nails into him. His labored moans turn into a guttural growl.

“You think I’m not capable?” he mocks, stealing another moan from her, “that I can’t keep up with you, you pretty young thing?”

You deny it, but Logan takes it upon himself to show you that he can take you like he's in heat, the ghost of his old self taking over in his almost animal way of fucking you, hips arched, muscles flexed and tense, his teeth appearing every time he opens his mouth, reminding you of fangs. They dig into your exposed skin, leaving bruises that will take time to disappear from your shoulders and neck, marking what belongs to him.

The hardness of his skin meets your soft when he grabs you by the waist.

"Look at you" it slips from his tongue, ecstatic. He's a goner, saliva dripping from the messy and sloppy kisses he leaves through your collarbone, "so good and so pure. I bet you're innocent, that you haven't seen what I've seen..."

His pupils darken, a strange mix between torment and desire in his gaze. Hungry and violent.

"Will you let me show you how's a real man s'ppossed to treat a woman?"

He feels shame settle in his belly, the hunger to possess her almost virgin body fueling his dark desire of errasing her sweet smile until she's an unintelligible mess of sobs. To show her what she would complain about, so she'll never slettle for less. So you can feel what it's to be taken care of―handled. And then he'll fill you up with his seed, so no other man will take what's his. His sweet little thing. Oh, he's so going to hell for this.

But maybe he likes pain.

"That's it, honey" he plays with the fabric of your wet panties, pulling at the loose threads in the delicate fabric. "Let me show you".

You take it off, and Logan lies back against the bed, spreading his legs and unbuttoning his belt and pants―a clear invitation to repeat the previous position, except this time, his hands are on top of your hips, squeezing the soft skin. He doesn't take his eyes off you, his gaze reserved only on you. If the adrenaline from before pushed you, now the confidence gained motions you to finish the task. It's just the push you need, remembering that this is what it feels like to be with a real man as you throw a leg over his hips, sitting your ass right on top of the bulge marked on his underwear.

“Right… there…” he barely manages to formulate a coherent train of words, the years of lack of help in attending to his needs leading to overstimulation, “good girl.”

The compliment makes you increase the pace of your hips, his labored breaths a sound so rich and so manly it makes you squirm.

You need it desperately, rubbing your increasingly wet clit against him, riding the fabric. His scruffy beard barely hides the smug smile that graces his lips.

“Like this?” she whispers, and Logan can no longer contain himself, staring at his sweaty, ripped body failing to please her completely. It feels so good it aches, and he can't believe this is how he's ended. But if that means having your pretty face on top of him, covered in his marks, dripping on your joint sweats, well maybe it isn't so bad.

“How can I repay you, honey?” he pleads. He'll try he's best. He just wants to give you a glimpse of the way his whole world has light up ever since he stumbled in that greasy diner.

“You said you were going to show me” it comes out almost as a purr, expectant, “and I’m waiting”.

Logan takes it as his cue, pulling down his underwear until his member is exposed, chuckling darkly when you swallow at the sight.

"Don't tell me you're scared already" he teases, "look how you have me… you can't leave me like this…"

You stifle a scream as you feel every inch of his thick cock enter your sensible walls, trying to fit his member inside of your needy body.

"So tight for me" he stammers, using his hands to keep you in place, on top of him. The only sound in the silence of that place that smells of death is that of their skin colliding―vulgar, the obscenity highlighted by being the only thing that can be heard in the small room.

Even though his stamina has dropped over the years, he thrusts into you relentlessly. Logan fucks you senseless, his balls buried deep in your dripping pussy, a constant rhythm of avid suction with each entry to your walls.

He takes a moment to see you as you take something from the nighstand he doesn't remember putting there.

"Look what I found" you whisper in the middle of your moans. Logan recognizes the shine of metal in front of his eyes, "so Wolverine?"

You say it so easily, like it's not the first time. With acceptance; it scares him.

Do you recognize him? Are you not scared? Why haven't your eyes go from curiosity and kindness to cold and rejection?

He should panic, rip off his dog tags from your hands and pretend he doesn't know who he used to be, but he's so deep inside you and so enraptured, he can only manage to gently take them from between your fingers and put them around your neck, the cold metal against your warm, bare skin creating an electric shock.

"I want to see them on you"

He likes to watch it hang over his face while you're on top, panting heavily as she repeats his name, slurring her words. It dangles with every thrust, the silver glistens in the seeping sun, just like the sweat that adorns her skin.

"Are you that needy of your old man? " he teases, caressing her. He smacks the curve of his ass, “You want more?”

His veiny length makes quick work of your needy hole, more moans escaping your lips.

“Shit,” you curse, wincing at the pain that begins to increase. “Yes, Logan. Just like that. Nobody ever treated me like that, nobody's made me feel like this-”

He moans, pleased with the praise, seeing he isn't as lacking as he thought. Making you feel good is his priority, but he won't lie and say he doesn't want to feel it too.

In an attempt to distract yourself, your eyes try to focus on him: searching his features, memorizing every scar, every wrinkle, every little grey hair.

“You’re perfect, Logan,” you mumble through a moan, the confession hiding more than you want to say and more than he cares to admit.

Before he can process it though, the fire in his stomach signals the arrival of his impending orgasm.

There's something delightful about the way you can barely speak, a mess of moans that sound like his name, eyes half-lidded and lips swollen alongside your messy hair.

He feels almost sick to be consuming something that doesn't and shouldn't belong to him. He doesn't deserve to have such a beautiful, young woman riding him while she clings to him like he's the last thing in this world, him: a worn, old man who can't keep up with her.

His member spasms, and it's got you feeling it all inside your walls, causing him to close his eyes in the process as well.

It's too soon, Logan thinks in shame, but it's been so long and you feels so good, he let's it go:

Thick whips of his cum shoot out of his member, drawing out more than you would've imagined. You don't have much time to think about it, for the orgasm hits you immediately, fingers curling and eyes rolling to the back of your skull.

Logan feels his tip getting wetter, and the extra lubrication is a nice finishing touch.

“God,” he gasps, “what a mess…”

You avoid looking at him, taking one of his hands in yours, kissing the red and violet painted knuckles. If you do, you'll give away what you feel, the same way her memory burns in Logan's chest, more now than ever, as his mouth tastes just like you.

Dependency.

Devotion. Absolute. Sick.

Maybe that was what he felt. This weird feeling. That abyss piercing his chest but never killing him (so much for regenerating...), pressing his heart with a crushing force whenever it threathened to beat again. Logan was content with rather nothing, always a man who didn't ask for much, and since the death of his family―the X-men, less.

"You should go" he mutters in defeat, the shame washing over. Even if he'll miss your warmth, even if he doesn't want you to leave at all. "It's for your own good, y/n. Pretend you don't know me and turn around. Go away" he insists yet gets stuck on his words, "you're not stupid. Then you'll know it's good for you and you'll never speak to me again"

He looks at the ground, cowardly, because he wants your lust filled warm look to be the last memory he remembers. Not whatever look you're giving him now.

So Logan closes his eyes and counts to ten. When he opens them, you'll be gone. It'll be a dream, something too good to be true. Short lived, like every good thing in his life.

"Logan..." you calls his name. So softly it seems like a breath.

You're still here.

"Logan" you call again, more firmly.

"Logan" you don't give up, cupping with one hand his face gently, "look at me".

When he looks up, he comes across a heartbreaking vision. You cry, tears falling like waterfalls down your cheeks. But that's not the most devastating thing, no: it's the look in your eyes, as if you've shared his pain. As if you've had suffered the same things he had suffered; a twisted reflection of him.

"Of course I understand you" you take his hands, and Logan feels that same strange warmth he felt the first time when your hands brushed his with the diner's menu. "I've also lost people… people I loved. Don't you think it hurts me to see the world go on as if nothing happened? Everyone forgets, Logan. But I can't; there's not a day that goes by when I don't think about them"

For a moment, you stop crying, and the hidden internal turmoil he tried so hard to decipher finally makes sense.

"I don't know what you've been through either, but I can promise you, that I understand you more than you think…" it seems like you'll say something else, but you stop and say instead. "Think, Lo: would these people want to see you like this?"

"It's what I deserve" he murmurs barely, his voice constipated but without shedding a single tear.

"It's not what we want, Logan. Please" you sniff, pained "stop being so hard on yourself".

"I'm not who you think I am" he insists. You're still naked on his bed, and he feels dirty for having you like this. For taking you to his home and fucking you raw out of your innocence. "I'm not a good person."

"No, Logan" you seem hurt by that statement. You trace one of his most recent scars with a touch so compassionate, that he feels your fingertips burn, "you are a hero".

Your words were so sweet, so comforting. He wanted to sink into your lap, which smelled like flowers and tasted like safety. A home; a life that had been taken from him. He wanted to believe everything you said―feel who you believed he was. Not this pathetic, tired and apathetic version of himself, but the old version: the version that inspired respect, that despite his tough exterior, had a family he loved. Because he had a heart. Now he feels like he has no soul: no purpose, nothing.

But maybe you are the answer.

Before he can change his mind, you blurt out “can I stay?”

That morning, in that old bed that creaks under his weight, Logan discovers that feeling alive again isn't so bad.

313 notes · View notes

polly-pocket13 · 8 months ago

Text

helicopter mom - ren kaji x reader

warnings: bad english, bad grammar

You lay in your bed, comfortably wrapped in a blanket, reading the new book you had just bought.

As suddenly, your phone buzzed.Are you still awake? 11:32 pm

A text from Kaji.

Didn't he have patrol tomorrow morning?

I am, but why are you still awake? 11:35 pm

Don't you have patrol tomorrow morning? 11:36 pm

Can I come over? 11:36 pm Now? Is everything alright? 11:37pm

You slowly began to feel anxious. Did something happen?

Can I? 11:37 pm

You know you can always come over, Kaji 11:38 pm

After this message, he left you on read.

You got out of bed and put on some sweatpants.

A few moments later, the doorbell rang. You hurried to open it, and once you did, you were confronted with the sight of an injured Kaji.

“What the fuck happened?” you asked him, shocked.

“Switch my shift. You should see the other guys,” he just said, walking into your flat.

“I don't fucking care about the other guys. I tell you every damn time that you should be more careful. Now sit down and let me treat your injuries,” you told him pissed.

“Okay, Mom,” he simply replied.

He can't be serious right now. This boy will be the death of you someday.

You took a deep breath and got the first-aid kit.

“Kaji,” you began, as you started tending to his wounds.

"Please don't get started again. I know I should be more careful, Y/N" he interrupted you.

“Tzz, you are an asshole sometimes, you know? And to be honest, I don't think you understand me, Kaji. You are my best friend. I fucking care about you. I don't care about how well you can fight. I only care about you getting home safely,” you finished your moral lecture.

After you finished, you realized that he had turned up his music, and he probably hadn't even listened to what you told him.

"Kaji," you said loudly, frustrated.

"What?" he asked you.

"You didn't even pay attention to me," you replied.

"I do. I always do," he told you.

"Bullshit.I can't believe I fell in love with such a dickhead," you mumbled, finishing up cleaning his wounds.

"I can't believe I fell in love with a helicopter mom," he said.

You immediately turned red.

"What did you just say?" you asked

"Who is not paying attention now?" he said with a smirk and pulled you onto his lap.

"I said I can't believe-" he started to repeat himself, but you interrupted him with a kiss.

After that day, you both had the same discussion about him being more careful every day, and it always ended the same way, with you both making out.

#windbreaker #wind breaker x reader #windbreaker imagines #windbreaker x reader #windbreaker headcannons #windbreaker x you #wind breaker imagines #wind breaker manga #ren kaji imagines #ren kaji headcannons #ren kaji x you #ren kaji #kaji ren #ren kaji x reader #kaji ren x reader #kaji x reader #kaji x you #wind breaker (satoru nii)#satoru nii

179 notes · View notes

flowerandblood · 10 months ago

Text

The Fall from the Heavens (26)

[ canon • Aemond x Strong • niece female ]

[ warnings: mention of sex, incest, smut, angst, swearing ]

[ description: A cool distance turns into friendship and more when two children see that they can find refuge and understanding in each other. However, naïve dreams collide with the reality in which every event has consequences and what once could have been love becomes a dark, newly painful obsession. Angst, sexual tension, obsession, violence, madness, very dark Aemond. ]

The story in this series is an alternate reality from the oneshot Stay and love, leave and die, in which Aemond reads the letters his niece has sent to him over the years. They are the same characters and it shows what would have happened between them − I have changed the background story from their childhood slightly for the sake of the plot.

Characters & Series Moodboard Lady Strong Moodboard Aemond & Lady Strong Moodboard Aemond & Lady Strong Childhood

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

Jace remembered perfectly the day his little sister was born. Laenor had led him into his mother's chamber that day, holding his hand, saying that she was very tired and they couldn't spend much time with her − he had insisted on seeing her because he was delighted to finally have a sibling, a brother to play with and be friends with.

His mother, the future queen, smiled softly at the sight of him, her white hair loose and in disarray, her face red from sweat and exertion.

She held out her hand to him and he hugged her, peering curiously at the infant she held clutched to her chest.

"He's so tiny." He said in disbelief, brushing the baby's finger with his own − he smiled when he saw the baby's hand clench into a small fist with its quiet purr.

"She. You have a little sister." He heard his mother's amused voice; he furrowed his brow at her words and rose, angry and disappointed.

"− wait, comrade −" Laenor called out after him, but he refused to look at her.

She was a disappointment to him.

For the first few months, he had pretended not to hear her cries or squeals from their mother's chamber − even though Rheanyra had spoken to him and encouraged him to meet her, he had refused to do so, recognising that no little girl interested him.

"It was supposed to be a boy." He muttered regretfully while playing with his large, wooden, black dragon, pretending that the stacks of books were the great hills over which he flew on Balerion. His mother smiled at his words and combed her hand through his dark curls.

"That is what the gods have decided. She may be your future wife."

Jace put down his toy, looking at her in surprise, not understanding what she meant.

"Am I going to have to kiss her?" He asked in disgust, recalling the stories Laenor sometimes read to him before bed, in which great knights freed beautiful women from the paws of monsters, only to fall in love with them later and be bestowed a kiss by them.

His mother smiled involuntarily.

"Don't think about such things until you're a grown man. No kissing for now." She giggled, pinching his cheek. He smiled lazily seeing her warm expression, the motherly love that beat from her.

That night he went to the chamber where she slept for the first time; he leaned over the cradle, glancing at her plump little figure wrapped in a white robe and a small headpiece. Her eyes opened suddenly and he was terrified that she would burst into tears − she, however, merely clutched her small feet and began to rock from side to side, looking at him curiously.

He smiled involuntarily at this sight and tickled her belly with his finger. Her squeal and loud giggle answered him, her eyes lit up in joy, her little body all the way up in euphoria. He laughed seeing this, repeating his gesture, thinking she was like a small animal, a puppy or a kitten.

He decided that at the end of the day she wasn't so bad and stopped pretending she didn't exist.

Until Luke was born he had treated her as if she were a boy, driving their mother to despair every time they both returned sodden with mud and sand after another battle with Aegon and Aemond.

He had always felt that his uncles disliked him, and even though they were of a similar age to him, he did not feel comfortable in their company − nor could he hide his jealousy at the sight of their snow-white hair, proof of who they were.

Looking at his father and mother, he could not comprehend why his hair was not that shade.

Rhaenyra explained to him that it was surely because of the Baratheon blood that also flowed through their veins, and although he was disappointed, the sight that he was not the only one, that his sister and Luke looked similar to him, comforted him.

The first time Aegon laughed sincerely at what he said occurred when he called his sister a hamster. The comparison came to his mind when she took air in her mouth and furrowed her brow − he uttered it thoughtlessly, and his uncle burst out laughing and patted him on the back.

"− gods, you're right − and those big eyes of hers −" He sneered, and although he saw that his sister lowered her gaze, embarrassed, he continued, eager to hear more words of praise from his lips.

"− she has just as much sense too −" He added, seeing his uncle throw him an amused, mocking look suggesting that he agreed with him.

He felt a squeeze in his heart when he noticed out of the corner of his eye that his sister had turned and walked away, passing through the cloisters towards their quarters without even giving him another glance.

He turned around and noticed to his surprise that he was not the only person to notice her leaving − his other uncle, Aemond, led her away with his eyes and then threw him a look full of despise, from which he felt discomfort.

He pressed his lips together at the thought that he was the heir to the throne and, unlike him, had his own dragon.

Who was he to look down on him with such superiority?

He decided to remind him of that and share that thought with his brother.

Aegon's involvement in their little joke surprised even him − his uncle thought it was an excellent idea. He argued that his younger brother was too sullen and serious for his age, that he was sapient and could use a little lesson.

As he listened to Aegon convince him that they had found a dragon for him, as he saw the hint of hope and the shy, embarrassed smile of excitement on his uncle's face, he felt for a moment that perhaps they should not do this.

However, it was too late to retreat − Luke ran deeper into the cave, and came out a moment later, leading by a rope a large pig to which they had attached self-made wooden wings early on.

"Behold! The Pink Dread!"

He saw that his uncle froze and turned pale as they burst out laughing, swallowing this humiliation with difficulty − his eyes glazed over and reddened, his gaze again blank and distant.

He knew they had broken him.

That same day he mentioned it to his sister, and her reaction angered him.

"You are cruel." She said resentfully.

Which side was she on?

"He's forever looking down on us because he has white hair. He's constantly making excuses and bragging about what he's read in those silly dusty books of his." He snorted, playing between his fingers with the gold coin their grandfather had brought him from another of his trips overseas.

He blinked when his sister simply rose from her seat and walked out, leaving him in a state of shock and displeasure − he decided, however, that these were just normal female emotions and would surely pass her until supper.

He loved his father, but he also greatly valued and respected Ser Harwin Strong. He was a stocky, tall, handsome man who could fight very well. He often spoke to him or helped him practice by sharing stories of his duels in tournaments and hunts.

He thought then that he would like to be like him one day.

He knew that he was a close confidant of his mother and often saw them together, however, his father seemed not to mind, so he considered this condition perfectly normal and did not bother.

After a few weeks, the will of their King fell upon them like a bolt from the heavens, and their mother informed them of it during one of their suppers together.

"− your grandfather and our King has decided today that, to strengthen our lineage, we will betroth your sister to your uncle, Prince Aemond − let us raise our cups for this −" She said, glancing towards her daughter, his sister smiling broadly at her words, happy.

What?

"− what do you mean? − why? −" He asked, feeling discomfort in his stomach and a cold sweat on his back.

They wanted to gift him his sister as a consolation because he didn't have a dragon of his own?

"− your grandfather wants peace to reign in the kingdom after his death − such a marriage in his eyes will strengthen our family and our bonds between each other − of course, the marriage will only happen when your sister is of the right age −" She said calmly, looking at her daughter with tenderness, taking an unruly strand of her dark hair from her face.

"− did you agree? −" He asked his little sister in disbelief, and she nodded quickly, as if it was the happiest day of her life.

"− yes − I'm very pleased − I'm fond of our uncle −" She said quickly, putting a piece of roast on her plate, describing how worried she was that she would have to marry someone much older than herself.

He stared blankly ahead, clenching his hands into fists, bitter and disappointed.

Had she really never considered him as her husband?

After all, he was her elder brother; in their lineage such marriages were obvious.

He dared not, however, defy the will of the King himself.

His resentment towards his uncle increased with each passing week seeing that, against his wishes, he was not being harsh and unpleasant to his sister − on the contrary, he seemed to have softened in her company, his face, though still pathetically proud, also expressing curiosity and affection.

He felt rage in his heart at the thought that they could really have wished to bring about this marriage.

However, the cup of bitterness overflowed the moment he saw his sister kiss him.

They were both too certain that no one could see them − he watched them from the corridor through a window overlooking the library.

His sister was standing by the bookcase, saying something to him, and he stood up and walked lazily over to her. He rose on his tiptoes and apparently reached for a book that stood too high for her. She smiled broadly as he handed it to her, her hand traveling to his shoulder.

He swallowed hard as her lips pressed against his, and as soon as she pulled away, her uncle grasped her cheeks in his hands and kissed her again, deeper and longer.

He fled to his chamber and burst into tears with rage, dropping all the objects standing on his table, disappointed and humiliated that although he was to become King in the future, someone else was taking away something that in his mind was his right.

He never wondered what kind of love he had bestowed upon her and whether it was the form of affection that usually bound married couples; he knew that he would care for her and be good to her and that was enough for him.

She was his sister and he would never hurt her.

She, however, looked only to her uncle and it was to him that she gave her heart and mind.

He didn't know what he felt when Luke slashed his face that night when their uncle stole Vhagar − horror, shame, satisfaction and relief all mingled in his mind into one.

On the one hand, he was overjoyed that he had taken back what in his mind should have been his, on the other he was embarrassed and distraught at the confirmation of his fears that had long smouldered in his mind.

It was Harwin Strong who was their father.

To his seed he owed his dark curls.

He was a bastard.

He tried to turn his thoughts away from considering what this meant for them, focusing on the fact that his sister would surely no longer want her uncle for a husband, and their paths would part.

This is exactly what happened.

Still, what he had planned did not happen, and his mother decided to change her plan and marry her off to their cousin, Lord Arryn's son, to strengthen her support in the North of the kingdom. Again, he felt a wave of disappointment, however, this time he was not so jealous − he knew that she had no love for their cousin and that he was certainly no threat to her.

"What's my little sister doing?" He asked with amusement, startling her completely, sitting bent over her desk − she quickly grabbed the parchment she had just been writing something on and tucked it under the table, looking up at him with wide eyes.

"Are you writing a letter to someone?" He sneered, raising an eyebrow, standing over her with a smile. She swallowed hard and looked down, thoughtful.

"I write poetry. But I don't want anyone to read it." She muttered, and he sighed quietly and nodded, acknowledging that he wasn't going to force her to do anything.

"Would you like to go for a walk along the beach? It's beautiful weather." He encouraged her; she, however, shook her head, no longer bestowing a single glance on him.

"No, forgive me. I'm tired."

He pressed his lips together at her rejection, which he had faced again and again since they had moved to Dragonstone.

Even though he tried to get close to her, to understand her and comfort her, she still didn't want him.

He was ashamed to speak of his feelings with his mother or stepfather, much less Luke, however, to his surprise, his closest confidant turned out to be Baela.

"I don't understand her. It seems to me that she still misses him, even though he has certainly forgotten her by now. I have heard that he is a cold, vain, self-obsessed man. He's always been that way, treating her only as an object, a consolation prize. Now that he has a dragon he doesn't need her." He said angrily − his cousin sighed heavily at his words, looking at him with understanding.

"When people part in anger and don't close a chapter, it's hard for them to move on. Perhaps she knew him in a way that is unknown to us. He's always been withdrawn into himself." She muttered disapprovingly, fiddling with the wine cup in her hand, gazing thoughtfully into the blazing fire.

He smiled at the thought that he was certain she recalled the impetuosity with which her uncle had punched her in the face with his fist that night when he lost an eye. Baela looked at him, raising her eyebrows.

"What's that look?" She asked and kicked him under the table with her foot. He giggled at her reaction and shook his head, lowering his gaze to her fingers.

"I would have been better for her. I would have really cared for her. Maybe I wouldn't have given her everything she needed, but at least with me she would have been safe." He said with a tiredness from which his companion sighed heavily. He lifted his gaze to her as her hand grasped his and squeezed it.

"I know." She replied softly.

He swallowed hard, feeling a pleasant warmth in his lower abdomen as he saw her soft, misty gaze, feeling her warm thumb stroke his palm. He grunted as he felt his manhood pulsate in his breeches at the thought that, indeed, his cousin was a very fine woman.

He had always liked her sharp tongue and confidence.

"Have you ever lain in bed with a woman?" She asked him suddenly, and he drew in the air loudly, shocked, feeling that his cheeks had certainly turned red with shame.

He didn't know what to answer.

He didn't want to humiliate himself with words that he had absolutely no experience in these matters knowing that she had a more liberated approach to these affairs.

Daemon, as her father, had expressed no dissent, so who was he to lecture her?

She sighed quietly, seeing his reaction, or rather lack thereof, and rose from her seat, turning her back to him, gripping the ties of her bodice with her hands.

"I need you to help me."

Baela was a calm and patient teacher − it seemed to him that she took great satisfaction in his lack of understanding of what she was actually doing to him as she sank down on his swollen manhood again and again with a moan of delight − her brown naked skin glistened wonderfully in the light of the blazing fire, her white curls falling over her shoulders in disarray, her full lips parted in obvious desire from which he felt his fulfilment approaching embarrassingly fast.

She made sure he didn't fill her with his seed, letting him instead come down on her abdomen with his low moan of pleasure, his length pulsating and twitching in her hand for a while longer. He licked his lower lip dry with emotion, looking at her in disbelief, a soft, shy smile on her face.

"− you're beautiful −" He whispered, and she giggled under her breath and kissed him in a way from which he felt hot in his heart.

She made him forget, at least for a moment, what was happening around them, finding in her both friend and lover, the confidante of all his secrets.

She was not jealous of his sister − on the contrary, he had the impression that she understood the source of his anger and disappointment, herself having no intention of explaining to him what she was doing and with whom.

It seemed to him that their relationship and its freedom suited them both.

Of course, they both knew that in the end they would experience a marriage that would inevitably be purely political, and they understood what that entailed.

Then their grandfather was injured on one of his expeditions, and Vaemond Velaryon challenged his younger brother's rights to the throne of Driftmark.

Knowing the truth about his parentage and at the same time refusing to accept it, he became enraged, sad and depressed at the same time − Baela's words of comfort that they would find a solution and not allow themselves to be intimidated did not reassure him.

Once again, his uncle and his family were trying to take their inheritance from them.

His return to King's Landing was a shock to him; to his disappointment, he felt like an intruder there, and it seemed to him that was exactly how he was perceived by everyone.

He felt a drop of cold sweat run down his neck, his stomach twisting with discomfort when he saw his uncle in the distance, wielding his sword as if it weighed nothing, easily defeating Criston Cole, pressing its blade against his neck.

He was tall, muscular, his long white hair, proof that he was in fact a Targaryen partly tied at the back of his head with a black ribbon, his jaw long and sharply defined, his gaze wild and cold, terrifying.

He smiled mockingly at the sight of them, playing with the hilt of his sword between his fingers as if he wanted to devour them.

He felt ashamed at the thought that he was terrified.

And then his uncle spotted their sister in the distance − his heart beat harder at the sight of their expressions.

It seemed to him that this reunion years later had caused them pain, as they both froze, breathing heavily, looking at each other as if there was no one else around.

His uncle hummed under his breath and turned away, nodding at Ser Criston, taking another swing with his sword.

Even though he hadn't cared what happened to her for so many years, even though he had humiliated her at supper by calling her Lady Strong, she had confessed in front of everyone that her place was with him.

He looked at her in disbelief, wondering what she was doing, why she had stooped to courting him when it was obvious that her uncle had neither respect nor affection for her.

After a moment, he heard his uncle's cold, trembling, deep voice.

"So it is decided, father. We will marry."

"How could our mother agree to this? How could she let her stay there?" He asked furiously, circling around his chamber in Dragonstone; Baela sighed heavily, turning her head away. She looked at him finally, hesitation in her gaze.

"I didn't tell you because I knew it would only enrage you and you wouldn't leave her alone." She said tiredly − he halted in half-step, looking at her over his shoulder, feeling his heart pounding like mad.

"You didn't tell me about what?" He asked dryly, frustrated and concerned.

Baela let out a loud breath, shaking her head. They were now betrothed, and although he thought they both seemed to have accepted their families' decisions with relief, he couldn't rejoice.

"My father told me that she had been sending him letters all these years. That the same night we arrived in the Red Keep she spent the night in his chamber."

He stared at her dully, feeling that it made him sick to his stomach, as if he were about to vomit, his face taking on an expression of disgust.

So she didn't write any poetry then, he thought with regret and pain.

"− how could she do this − expose our mother to humiliation and gossip −"

"Jace. She never stopped loving him. I think she's naive too, but you'd have to be blind not to see that she never really accepted it all. I don't know what I think about it myself." She admitted, running her hand over her face.

"You don't know what you think about it? I'll tell you. Our uncle will play with her and take advantage of her, and then he will put her up to ridicule and hand her over to us. He won't marry her." He growled angrily, burying his face in his hands, wondering how she could be so foolish, how she could believe that he had sincere intentions about her.

"The matter of succession is on a knife-edge. Perhaps our grandfather is right? A union between our mother and the Queen could really ease the situation." She muttered, clearly looking for anything comforting in the situation, which he completely failed to understand.

Had everyone around him lost their minds?

"My uncle who thinks we are bastards is supposed to alleviate the situation? He will never agree to let me sit on the throne and I am supposed to give him my sister?" He asked in disbelief; Baela tightened her lips at his words, frustrated.

"You speak of her as if she were an object. It's always been that way."

He felt an unpleasant shiver run down his spine at her words, every muscle in his body tensing like a string.

"What do you mean?" He asked coolly.

Baela sighed heavily, clearly trying not to explode and form her thoughts so as to be honest but not cruel.

"You think she was born to fulfil your whims? That the fact that you are her eldest brother gives you precedence to lie in bed with her?"

He felt himself blush with shame at her question, shocked.

Discomfort and arousal surged through his lower abdomen at the thought.

"Do you think that's what I mean? I'm just trying to…"

"Yes, Jace. I've never witnessed you ask her how she feels, what she needs. I am fond of you, but you are a selfish boy, not a man."

He felt ashamed at the thought as tears gathered under his eyelids at her words, a terrible, cold shudder shook his body, his heart began to pound like mad.

You are a selfish boy, not a man.

Her words so offended him that he stopped speaking to her despite her pleas, and then the thing he feared most happened.

The King was dead, Aegon had stolen her mother's throne and his uncle had imprisoned his sister.

They had made a mockery of them.

He had been right all along, but no one listened to him.

"Forgive me, Jace." Baela muttered, placing her hand on his shoulder. She knelt beside him, sighing heavily, laying her head on his thigh, and he involuntarily stroked her hair, feeling superiority, feeling strength.

He was going to fight for his mother's crown and bring his sister home.

In order to do so, at the behest of their mother, he flew to Winterfell to ask Cregan Stark for his support in this cause, reminding him of the oath his father had taken before her.

The North seemed to him a beautiful and wild place, so far from what he knew − the snow-covered hills, the austere fortresses of dark stone, the robes that looked only grey, black or brown around him gave him a sense of modesty and space.

Lord Stark's nature appeared to be similar to his, and the few days he had spent in his company hunting and riding horses had actually made him feel good − he felt like someone worthy with him, a true heir to the throne, not a bastard.

It was this feeling that, seeing the young Lady Snow from afar, he allowed himself to be enchanted by her charms and lay in bed with her.

Like a real man.

When he arrived back in Dragonstone he learned that Luke had just returned from Storm's End and that he had seen their sister.

"You flew after him? You flew after him knowing he could imprison you, use you as your mother's weakness? Fucking fool." Growled Daemon, shocked and horrified by his naivety, burying his face in his hands, unable to look at him.

"Daemon." Their mother rebuked him, all pale, her hand clenched on her womb. "What happened next?"

"He brought her. Someone hit her, mother, and I think she tried to take her own life. There were cut marks on her wrists." His brother muttered, and he felt his heart stop, he and Baela looked at each other quickly.

She had tried to take her own life.

Because of this bastard, his sister could be dead.

His hands clenched into fists at that thought.

"And then?" Pressed Daemon in an impatient voice.

"I told her to run away with me, but she didn't agree. She told me to tell you that she loves you and that she remains faithful to you, mother." He mumbled and he slammed his fist on the table, feeling fury and rage boiling up inside him.

"That fucking bastard purposely made her stay. He planned this, he never had any intention of marrying her!" He growled red with anger − Daemon threw him a single, drawn-out look.

"And then what? He let you just walk away? No one else saw you?" He continued, pretending not to have heard his outburst.

"N-no, I was surprised, but no. Forgive me, I had to see her, make sure that she is still alive." Luke said. Daemon sighed heavily and leaned over, placing his hands on the top of the stone table, thoughtful.

"Bring me a parchment and a quill. I need to speak with my nephew."

Baela followed him into his chamber in an attempt to calm him down.

"How can he want to pact with that fucking traitor? His brother stole my mother and his wife's throne!" He shouted in her face − his betrothed dropped her hands in a gesture of helplessness.

"Since he let them meet, maybe there is something to it. My father knows what he's doing, I trust him. I believe he will bring her home."

"You're naive. You always have been."

"And you're vain. You always have been."

He pressed his lips together at her words, feeling his heart pounding like mad, feeling like something was about to explode inside him.

"I met a woman in Winterfell who I took to my bed." He muttered finally, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye.

Part of him wanted to hurt her, and part of him wanted to be honest with her.

That was what they had promised each other.

Baela laughed at his words in disbelief and shook her head − he had a feeling he saw a shadow of regret in her gaze, but he wasn't sure if it was because of his confession or because she understood why he said it now.

"If you wish, I'll relate to you how I spent my time in your absence, but I'm not sure you'll be able to look into this guard's face afterwards." She sneered, lifting her chin high, looking at him defiantly. He felt a wave of hot shame and anger surge through his body.

"After we're married…are you going to continue this?" He asked uncertainly and she cocked her head to the side.

"If you are not faithful to me, I will not remain faithful to you. You are dear to me, but don't think I will cry for you. Certainly not like your sister cried for her uncle. Part of me has always envied her that she experienced such a deep feeling in her life even if it burned her from the inside for so many years." She said with a kind of regret from which he felt a squeeze in his stomach, but he answered nothing to her words.

He knew that they did not love each other.

They were close and felt comfortable together, but they weren't mad about each other.

He believed it just had to be this way.

He waited impatiently along with his mother and the others gathered for Daemon to return from his meeting with their uncle, simultaneously terrified and angry that they were speaking with traitors instead of fighting.

When they heard the squeal of Caraxes in the distance his mother stood up, pale, holding her hand on her womb again, as if remembering the time when she had carried her only daughter under her heart.

His other sister had died before she was even truly born.

When Daemon stepped into the main hall everyone was already waiting for him; he sighed heavily, placing his Dark Sister on the table top, folding his hands in front of him, straightening.

"Your daughter married her uncle of her own free will. My nephew has conveyed to me that his brother-cunt will relinquish the throne he stole from you if it is your daughter's children and his who become heirs to the throne or, in the event they do not conceive a son, ours − Viserys and Aegon. He demands the exclusion of Jace, Luke and Joffrey from the succession." He said dispassionately. He looked at his mother seeing that she had run out of words.

"− mother − this is −"

"− leave us − all of you −" She ordered.

"− mother − this is my inheritance − mine −" He began, but felt Baela's grip on his arm.

"− Jace − that's enough −"

He sat in his chamber thinking only of the fact that his mother was just contemplating whether or not to agree to deprive him of his inheritance, to acknowledge that he was her bastard despite the fact that he was her firstborn son, despite the fact that Laenor Velaryon had acknowledged him as his heir.

"− Jace −" Baela muttered, seeing his condition.

"− leave −" He said. He heard her sigh heavily as she approached him with a rustle of her gown, kneeling at his feet.

"− Jace − I'm on your side − I always have been − don't you see me as your companion? − your friend? − your lover? −" She asked with a pained expression that startled him. He lowered his hands and looked at her − his palm rose to her cheek, which he stroked with a tender, slow gesture.

"− you resent me − you don't see me as a man, but as a child −"

"− that is not true −"

"− I don't want your pity −"

"− Jace −"

"− you were right − I don't want to frustrate you and I understand all the accusations about me that you've made − my whole life I've been trying to be someone I'm not −" He finally replied, his betrothed's fingers grasping his hand and squeezing it.

"− that's what I mean − stop pretending − be honest with yourself −"

"− do you want me to be honest? − very well then − my mother has never asked my opinion on any important matters − Daemon treats me as if I am an imbecile and mocks me − I am both a first-born son and a bastard − my uncle wants to deprive me of everything, he wants me to be a nobody and why? − because when I was a child I gave him a pig? − god, I regret it, it was a cruel joke − I regret that he lost an eye, I regret that a dragon didn't hatch from his egg − but even if I had said that, what good would it have done − he would have laughed at me saying I am a weak cunt −" He muttered and burst out sobbing like a small child, hiding his face in his hands. Baela embraced him and cuddled his face into her oil-scented neck, stroking his hair.

"− I am grateful to you − I am grateful to you that you are honest with me − I am grateful to you that you have never lied to me −" She whispered and he wept softly, tightening his hands on the material of her gown feeling that the closeness of her body brought him solace.

"− I am grateful to you too − forgive me for not being what you deserve −" He mumbled, sniffling loudly, trying to calm the convulsions of his body and his ragged breathing.

"− I forgive you − I forgive you and ask for your forgiveness −"

When his mother came to his chamber that evening, he knew what decision she had made even before she opened her mouth.

"− Jace −" She began, and he turned his head away, panting with rage, burning tears of humiliation under his eyelids.

"− after all this − after all you've sacrificed − are you going to let them win? −"

"− how would I be a just Queen if I thought only of myself instead of the good of the kingdom? − any other solution will mean war with our own kin − is there anything else more displeasing to the gods? −" She muttered in a breaking voice in which he could clearly hear that she herself was suffering immensely.

"− you let them dictate their terms −" He said in disbelief, looking at her at last. His mother pressed her lips together at his question.

"− no − I intend to impose my own demands on them – none of them will be allowed to sit on the throne − none of them will wear the crown − they will be rulers-regents until their son, the rightful heir, is born −" She replied, forcing herself to be calm.

"− and if no son is born to them? − will you exclude me from the succession then? − your first-born son? −" He mumbled in pain, hitting his chest with his palm. Rhaenyra drew in air loudly, her eyes red from tears of pain and grief.

"− it's my fault − not yours − me and Laenor really tried, but −"

"− I don't want to hear it − I won't listen to it − why did you let me come into the world? −"

"− Jace −" She mumbled − he heard the rustling of her gown as she took a step towards him, but he held up his hand showing that he didn't want her to come near him.

"− I will leave Dragonstone to you − it belongs to me and I can give it to whomever I wish − no one will challenge your rights in this case, you will finally be able to live the life you deserve −"

"− I was meant to be King −" He hissed, and she swallowed hard.

"− as was I − but perhaps we are not meant to be − pride steps before a fall −" She said drily, her chin lifted high.

"− what does Daemon have to say in the matter? −" He asked lowly.

"− he is furious, but he will do as I command − just as you −"

283 notes · View notes

fluffytriceratops · 10 months ago

Text

𝐈 𝐁𝐮𝐫𝐧 𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐘𝐨𝐮 - 𝐑𝐚𝐩𝐡𝐚𝐞𝐥 [𝐛𝐚𝐲𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞]

notes: part one? will probably make a very spicy part two- hehe. ;) if you know, you know. also- i imagine y/n as english here, but that's literally just me lol. there's no real hint or anything saying that she is or isn't. :D also also, i want raphael to choke me like he hates me but he loves me. :P

warnings: mature language/swearing,

tags: @thelaundrybitch @turtle-babe83 @leosgirl82 @rheawritesforfun @s-s-ironnie @post-apocalyptic-daydream @mysticboombox @drowninghell @lec743 @raphielover @raphslovemuffin80 @squirrelfurs @bibiz82 @pheradream-15 @kikithedreamerwriter @m1dnyt3-w0lf @scholastic-dragon @moonsua1 [if i've forgotten anyone i'm so sorry please comment or dm me and let me know and i'll add you right away so i don't forget in the future!]

(if you would like to be tagged in my future tmnt x reader related work, feel free to let me know and i'll happily add you!)

i love you all sm! i'm sending all the virtual hugs and well wishes to you!! <33

---

She didn't understand what she had done. From the moment she met him, Raphael acted as though he hated her. Y/n was for at a loss. No matter what she did or said, there was always this wall between them. After a while of trying to befriend him, she eventually gave up. If he did not want to be friends, then so be it. She would spend her time with his brothers.

But that only seemed to make matters worse.

It was terribly confusing and Y/n didn't know if she could take much more of it.

She had tried so hard to please him. And despite all her efforts he pushed her away. Treated her as if she was nothing. So she turned to her actual friends, and that only seemed to anger him more. Did he not want her around at all? Did he not trust her with his family?

The thing that was the most frustrating, was the fact that no matter how hard she tried. She couldn't get rid of her love for him.

---

It wasn't as if he hated her. In fact, it was the exact opposite. Raphael had a hard time expressing his feelings. He had an even harder time when he believed that those feelings weren't reciprocated.

Y/n was beautiful. She was as sweet as honey with warm skin as soft as silk. Her eyes shone when she laughed. She always wore this lip gloss that made her lips the perfect shade of pink. And she smelled amazing. Like vanilla and cedar. A warm and comforting scent.

There was no way she liked him as much as he liked her. Raphael was so certain of this. So he did the only logical thing he could think of.

He pushed her away.

Because he knew he would never be able to love her. And being in the same room as her, knowing she would never be his, was excruciating.

The only thing he could think of doing was keeping his distance. Which was hard when she was always approaching him. So he avoided her like the plague.

That didn't mean that he didn't get jealous.

---

How could he act like he knew her? He didn't know her at all! Raphael was like a stranger to her! The only things she's learned of him was from his brothers. And even if they had been telling him about her, it wasn't the same. Her gaze narrowed at him. "I'm sorry? Can you repeat that please, because I don't think I heard you right."

Raphael gazed at Y/n from across the room. He was leaning against the wall, arms folded over his chest, biceps bulging. (she would have been drooling if he wasn't such an ass-) He moved his toothpick to the other side of his mouth with his tongue. Head tilting ever so slightly as he studied her.

"I said, that your actions don't surprise me. Figures someone as pristine and conceded as you would do somethin' like that." He didn't skip a beat. Didn't hesitate with his comment. Even if it was uncalled for.

Y/n blinked. It was almost worse hearing it for a second time. It made her angrier, at least. She was absolutely gobsmacked. Surprised he had the balls to make such an assumption and voice it so simply.

Raphael pushed himself off of the wall and stalked towards her. "Cat got your tongue, princess?" His lips twisted up into a smirk as he loomed over her. Staring down at her with his eyes made of gold.

Leonardo, who she had been talking to moments before- opened his mouth to intervene, but Y/n cut him off before he got the chance.

"You have no right to make any sort of assumptions about me."

Raph hummed, "Ain't assumptions if they're true."

Y/ns gaze hardened, her hands balling at her sides. "You clearly don't know me at all."

"I think I know ya well enough."

"And I think you're an ass!" She snapped, face red with anger. "If you have any other false assertions about me, I'd rather you kept your mouth shut!"

"And I'd rather you not be here at all!" He growled in return. Golden gaze burning down upon her like fire. "You're always around! Do ya not have anywhere else to be!? Any other friends besides us!?"

"You aren't my friend!" Y/n's eyes stung with tears, and she did her best to hold herself together.

"Thank fuck for that!"

"Raph, enough!" Leo seperated the two by physically putting himself between them. His ocean eyes were glued to his brother. "Take a walk." He demanded, nodding in the direction of one of the sewer tunnels.

Raphael's veins burned. He hated the sight of Leo coming to the rescue. Because of fucking course he did. It was always the wise and powerful Leonardo guiding them through their problems. He would have fought more. Pushed back harder. Let his anger consume him. But his gaze caught the sight of tears trickling down Y/n's face. Like stars falling from the sky. His heart ached and squeezed. He wanted to drop to the floor and beg for her forgiveness. Kiss her feet and worship the ground she walked on.

Y/n was a moon goddess. Made of pure starlight.

And Raphael was a brutish soldier, stuck on Earth while he watched her dance with the stars.

It was better if she hated him. It made things easier that way, he reminded himself.

Raphael didn't say anything else. He simply turned around and walked away. Afraid that if he stayed a second longer, he'd do one of two things.

Beg for the goddess' forgiveness.

Or break her.

---

Leonardo let out a heavy sigh before turning to face the h/c haired girl. "Are you okay?" He asked, planting his large hands atop her shoulders. They covered them entirely, showing just how much bigger they all were than her.

Y/n nodded, reaching up to wipe at her eyes quickly. It felt like Raphael had attacked her out of nowhere. It wasn't like she was doing anything besides talking to Leo. (Okay, maybe she had been flirting with him a little bit, but could you really blame her? Have you seen the guy, he's fine as hell-) It felt unwarranted. She didn't feel like she deserved his hate, but no matter what she did, he always seemed hostile towards her.

Leo didn't look convinced. "You sure?"

Y/n let out a quiet sigh. "Yeah.. Is it okay if I just go and finish my book in your room?" She reached towards the couch and grabbed it, clutching it to her chest.

"Of course. No one will disturb you there."

She forced a small smile. "Great. Thanks, Leo."

"Anytime, Y/n."

Leonardo watched as she padded away in the direction of his bedroom. Lips pressed into a thin line. He turned and moved in the direction Raphael went in. He wasn't surprised to find him in the dojo, absolutely wrecking the punching bag.

"Raph."

Said male glanced in his direction for a split second, grunting in acknowledgment.

"What the hell was that?" Leo gestured behind him, blue eyes hardening into a stern glare.

Raphael clicked his tongue in annoyance. "Nothin'. Just leave it alone, Leo." He continued to slam his fists upon the bag, watching it jolt and sway with each lethal hit.

"Y/n doesn't deserve the shit you give her. If you gave her a chance, maybe you would see that. She's a nice girl, she's our friend. You need to give her an apology."

Normally, Raphael would have fought with Leo. Arguing with him to the point where their verbal hits would turn into physical ones. But his motions stilled at this. He knew Leo was right, as much as he didn't want to admit it. He hated seeing Y/n look at him like that. With wide teary eyes and a wobbling lip. Staring at him like the ferocious monster he was.

Before either of them could say anything else, Mikey popped his head in the room. "Hey guys, dinner's ready!"

Leo nodded and turned back to Raph. "Go tell Y/n dinner's ready. You can apologize whilst you're at it." He didn't leave room for argument as he left the dojo.

Leaving Raphael looming next to the punching bag. He lifted his arm and hit it once more. That was the final blow, the bag snapped off the chain and smashed against the ground. It's contents pouring out.

He'd have to try and fix it later.

---

Y/n sat on Leonardo's bed. Back pressed against the wall and chin propped up on her palm. One of her favourite books sat open on her lap and she read it contentedly. She did her best not to think about Raphael and his actions and words. How he was so distant and vile towards her. She had done nothing but be kind to him. To try and have a decent relationship with him. But he refused to have even a decent relationship with her. It was beyond frustrating. It made her want to rip her hair out.

She let out a long slow sigh, tilting her head back till it hit the wall and she was looking up at the ceiling. Her mind was a mess, and while she had told Mikey she would stay for dinner earlier, now she was regretting her choice. She contemplated trying to sneak out. But that was near impossible when the lair was full of trained ninjas. Y/n couldn't sneak past them no matter how hard she tried.

There was a rap of knuckles on the door. She assumed it was Leo, or perhaps Donnie. Mikey would just barge in, and she highly doubted she'd see Raph for a good long while yet.

She pushed herself up and went towards the door. Yanking it open, but whatever she was about to say died on her tongue. Lips parted and throat dry. She couldn't say anything as she gazed at the mutant in front of her. Y/n stepped back from Raphael, studying him with an intense gaze silently. Being unable to find any words to speak.

Raph cleared his throat. "Leo sent me to get you for dinner."

Y/n dropped her gaze with a heavy sigh and turned away from him, shaking her head in disappointment. She was hoping for an apology, or something along those lines. She wanted him so bad but it felt like he was miles away.

"Y/n?" Raph stepped further into the room, looking at her in confusion. "Are you not hungry?"

"I do not want any dinner!" Y/n spat angrily, running a hand through her hair in agitation.

Raph looked taken aback by her outburst. But he stayed silent, allowing her to take in a couple deep breaths and try to calm herself down. He understood anger better than most. And Y/n had every right to be angry with him.

Finally, she turned to him. "I have spent so much time wanting to be alone with you. Wanting to talk to you! Wanting to know -" she cut herself off with a sharp inhale, dropping her gaze to the floor. Cheeks warm and tips of her ears dusted in red.

She shook her head again. "I understand that you do not wish to see me... That you would prefer to stay in any other room-"

"That's not true." He cut her off quickly. Molten gold gaze staring at her. Piercing her soul.

Y/n brought her eyes back up to him. Not believing his words. "Raphael-"

"You're wrong." He said again. Voice sharp.

Still, Y/n did not believe him. "You have avoided my presence." She stated, quite simply. It was a fact. Raphael could barley stand to be in the same room as Y/n, let alone hang around just the two of them.

"In order to give you space." He muttered, swallowing thickly. She watched the way his throat bobbed with the action.

Y/n's eyebrows dipped in confusion. "You've.. Said all but a few words to me."

"To stop myself from sayin' the wrongs things." He said, taking a step towards her. Raph wet his lips with his tongue, not missing the way her eyes followed the action. His heart pounded at the sight alone. He had caught himself staring at her eyes many times, so to find hers glued to his - she had no idea the kind of chokehold she had on him.

Y/n stared at him in disbelief. "You've barley been able to look at me in the eye."

"Because I can't stand to see the misery I have caused you!" He snapped, clearly agitated. Pacing back and forth in front of her. Like a caged animal. Skin crawling at the way she watched him. Those eyes of hers... They were paralyzing. In the best way possible.

"You did not..." She whispered, hesitantly taking a single step forwards. "I am the one who has trapped you in your own home. I should have been more understanding of your space-"

"I'm the one who trapped you." Raph cut her off, growling out the words. "I have spent the last few weeks in agony." He admitted, glancing over towards her for only a second before he resumed his pacing. "Unable to talk to you. Unable to be alone with you because I knew you wanted nothing to do with me."

Y/n opened her mouth to protest but he continued. "Which makes sense, I mean look at me! I'm fucking scary. I'm a freak. I have a bad temper, it ain't pretty when I'm angry. I get jealous and envious easily and I'm not the best with emotions. I'm not the best guy, my brothers are ten times better than I will ever be."

"Raph-"

"I see the way you look at them. I see how much you care for them. Leo especially. He's the hero. I'm the villain. That's how it's always been, that's how it always will be. If yer gonna love any of us, it's understandable that it would be him." His shoulders sunk, and he finally stopped pacing but had yet to fully turn towards Y/n. His chest was heaving with much needed air after the amount of word vomit he had spewed.

"Leo's your perfect love match..."

"You're right in the sense that you and Leo are different. You cannot be anymore different. You're practically polar opposites." She breathed, studying him carefully. Heart aching from the words he spoke. "But who said I ever wanted Leo..."

Raphael slowly looked towards her. Eyes boring into her own, trying to see if she was telling the truth or not. Trying to understand the meaning behind her words.

He was silent for what felt like a long time. They both were. The silence was thick, suffocating. They both had so much they wanted to say but neither of them had the courage to say it.

"I can't stop thinking of you," Raph started softly, "From the mornings when I wake up, to the evenings right before bed. To the dreams I have of you.. My thoughts of you never end." His hands shook ever so slightly and he balled them into fists to control it.

"I am yours, Y/n. I have always been yours."

Y/n took in a heavy breath, chest rising as she sucked the air into her lungs. "I.." Her eyebrows dipped again as she tried to comprehend his words. Was he saying what she thought he was? "I don't understand.."

Raphael shook his head in frustration, "I don't know how to be anymore clear." He huffed, lifting his arms up and turning away from her.

Y/n's gaze hardened and she moved towards him. "Do not get angry-"

"I am not angry!" He snapped.

"You look angry. And bothered. Look at you, you're all flushed." She gestured towards him and Raph grit his teeth, face warm in embarrassment.

"Yes, that is what happens."

"When one is angry."

"When one burns for someone who does not feel the same!" Raphael hissed, closing the distance between them. Towering over her. He lifted a hand and ran it down his face, biting down on his lip.

"You.." Y/n could not bring herself to look away from him. "You burn for me?"

"Why do you think I got angry at you for flirting with Leo?"

"Why do you think I was flirting with Leo?"

Raph seemed confused by this, brows pulling together. "If you even bothered to look at me, really look at me. For longer than two seconds.. You would have seen.." What small bit of distance left between them she closed by taking a final step forward.

"I burn for you."

307 notes · View notes

soolh1k · 2 years ago

Text

Skz ghosting you ! (pt 2)

notes: english is not my first language so apologies for any misspelling or grammar. i hope u like it !! :))) this is only the hyung line

type: text post | narrated text

genre: kinda angsty but w fluff

WARNINGS: swearing, a little bit angsty, let me know if you'd like me to tag u :)

Hyung Line pt1 | Maknae Line pt1

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

ೋ Christopher Bang

Your heart ached. You knew he hadn't intentionally ignored you, but he did anyway. You really didn't know what to do. Maybe it had been a little immature to leave home without saying anything, but what he did wasn't very mature either.

Your head was a mess. You simply wanted to disappear from the face of the earth. You felt so many things at that moment. It was clear that you still loved him and would continue to do so for a long time. But if he had already hurt you once, what assured you that he wouldn't do it again? You were simply afraid. Maybe not only Chris was the problem, but both of you.

You had to return to his arms. It was clear. Despite the fear you had, the love you had for him was greater.

The doorbell rang throughout the apartment, catching Chris' attention. He quickly went to the door, hoping it was you on the other side. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and opened the door. A few minutes passed in which only you and he looked into each other's eyes, as if you thought it was all a dream.

"Hello, Chris," you said to break that eye contact.

"Oh my god, you're here, love. I thought I had lost you completely," a sad tone escaped his voice. He gently took your wrist and ushered you into his apartment, so you could talk comfortably.

"I also thought I had lost you, Chris. I really did, and it hurt like you have no idea. Every day without you is hell," you started to tell him, pain evident in your voice. "But it also hurt that you ignored me. You know I understand how complicated your job is, especially being the leader. I admire you so much. However, your job has been driving us apart for months. I don't want you to stop doing what you love because I know it makes you happy, and that makes me happy too. Clearly, I'm not going to make you choose between me and your work. That would be stupid. Can you just promise me something, Chan?" you asked, on the verge of tears. He was lost in his thoughts, realizing the damage he had been causing for months. Was he really that oblivious?

"Chris?" you called out to him, pulling him out of his thoughts.

"Darling, I would do anything for you. I wouldn't even have to think twice if I were given a choice between you and my work. You've always been my priority, and forgive me for not showing it. You're my everything. I shouldn't have neglected you from the beginning. You're the person who has always been there for me, supporting me in every decision I make, giving me love at every moment. I don't want you to leave. I want you here with me. I promise I'll change," your loved one replied almost instantly, shedding tears in the process.

"Chris, listen to me first," was your response to his heartfelt speech.

"Baby, please. I don't want us to end," he whined.

"Chris, listen to me," you repeated.

"I don't want to. If you're going to break up with me, I don't want to hear it."

"Christopher, I love you with all my being. I'm not going to break up with you. I just want you to promise me that you won't ignore me like that again. If I'm your priority, then love me as if it's the last thing you could do. Please."

"I promise, but never leave," he whispered as he hugged you.

"I'll never leave, Darling," you whispered back.

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

ೋ Lee Minho

One missed call after another, Minho had been looking for you for days, but it seemed like you wouldn't be returning anytime soon, which was tearing Lino apart. It was never his intention to hurt you; you would always be the only person he loved, so he couldn't let you walk away from him. Why did he have to ruin things? Everything was going so well, so why did he leave you without any specific reason? He felt like the worst person in the world.

All he needed right now was to find you and resolve things between you. He crossed seas and lands to locate you, only to find out that you were staying with your best friend since she couldn't find you at your apartment. He knocked on your friend's apartment door and waited patiently for it to open.

Your friend opened the door, visibly tired of seeing you in distress and falling into a depressive state because of the issue. She hadn't even realized that you had been sending messages.

"Please, fix things with her. She's been going through a really tough time," your friend told Minho.

"Believe me, I want to fix things with her." She simply nodded and let him go, informing him of your whereabouts. He quickly made his way to you.

"Angel, thank God you're okay. I was so worried," he exclaimed as he recognized your voice.

"Minho, what are you doing here?" you asked, upset, not because he was present, but because you looked terrible.

"I need to make things right with you, bunny. I messed up big time, and I can't express how sorry I am. You're the best partner I've ever had, and I don't want things to end between us. I need you in my life; you're the only thing that brings me happiness. I understand if you can't forgive what I did, but please, give me another chance," he said with so much pain, almost on the verge of tears.

"Minho, to be honest, I'm hurt by what you did, and I don't understand why. I thought everything was fine between us." Now you were the one on the verge of tears.

"I'll be honest with you because I love you. I was afraid, afraid that you would be hurt because of my work. The other day, Felix showed me everything they were saying about the girlfriend of an idol, and at that moment, I started thinking about what would happen if they found out about us. Would they hurt you like that? I didn't want to allow that, so I started to withdraw into my thoughts. I wanted to protect you, and my first instinct was to stay away so that those hurtful comments would never reach you. But I can't, I love you so much that my heart won't let me stay away. I'm sorry; I just wanted to protect you, but I did it in the worst way." The love of your life couldn't stop crying, and with everything he told you, you realized that neither of you was the problem.

"Why are you like this? Why do I have to love you so much, Minho? Come here, from now on, things will be better. We just need to talk about it, okay? Nothing will separate us. I love you so much," you reassured him and planted a tender kiss on his cheek.

"I love you too. I'm sorry," he replied, hugging you tightly.

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

ೋ Seo Changbin

Changbin didn't even dare to go home after what he did. He had truly hurt you, and he didn't know how to fix it. How could he have been so stupid? Did he distance himself from you just because he loved you? Wasn't that ridiculous? What was he doing with his life? Why wasn't he going to look for you? Those were some of the questions swirling in his mind at night. Lately, insomnia had prevented him from sleeping. He had been having sleepless nights, and every day away from you made him feel dead.

Chris advised him to go look for you before it was too late, but he already felt like a coward and firmly refused. It wasn't until Chan opened his eyes completely that he gave him a hypothetical situation where you both broke up in the worst possible way, even inventing that you could hate him. That day ended with him crying oceans, but with a clear mind, he knew what he had to do. He couldn't fail you once again, so he made his excuses and ran to his apartment. He had to apologize properly, he had to show you how much he loved you, that he would never hurt you again, and he wanted you to know that.

You were finishing up dinner, hoping that today your boyfriend would show up. You missed him so much and didn't want things to end badly between you. You didn't want to break up with him or for him to break up with you. You loved him too much, although you were afraid. He said he was afraid to love you. Was it because of something you did? Were you just a game to him? Why did this have to be happening, and why to you? You thought he really liked you, but his actions showed otherwise. Maybe it was all a bet, and being so naive, you gave him everything. You were so lost in your thoughts that you didn't even realize someone was knocking on the door.

"I'm coming!" you yelled as a warning, and you headed to the door and opened it. When you saw who was at the door, all you could do was sigh in disbelief.

"Sorry," was the first thing you heard from the person you had been waiting for so long. You couldn't even react when you felt him embrace you.

"I'm an idiot, forgive me. I don't know why I was scared," you began to hear small sobs, and that's when you realized Changbin was crying. So you let him in, offered him some water, and tried to calm him down.

"Tesoro, it's okay, don't worry, alright?" you reassured him, but he only became more agitated.

"Honey, it's not okay at all. It's not okay to ignore you or make you feel bad. I had no reason to be afraid of loving you. It's just the first time someone has made me feel this way, and it was pure panic because I didn't want to lose you, honey. I didn't want my insecurities to affect you, but I think that's all I did. God, I'm such a fool. Please forgive me." So it wasn't you, not a bet, none of that. It was just how you made him feel.

"Oh my god, I thought you didn't love me because you didn't like me. Tesoro, the next time you feel like that, just tell me. We can solve things in a better way. Don't doubt how much I love you. I want to spend the rest of my life with you."

"I love you, and I'm not afraid to say it. Please don't hate me. I want to be the man you spend the rest of your life with," he told you before giving you a small kiss.

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

ೋ Hwang Hyunjin

You knew how closed off he could be. At the beginning of your relationship, it was also very difficult to get him to communicate his feelings with you. It was as if someone had hurt him, and he continued to have the constant fear of talking to you and getting hurt. But it's clear that he knows you wouldn't do such a thing. It's clear that you are the love of his life. No one has ever evoked such feelings in him. Even in his worst moments, he was sure you wouldn't leave so easily. But he needed to meet you to solve his problems. He became so happy and relieved when you sent him an address, telling him to meet you there in 15 minutes.

"Did I make you wait for too long?" he heard behind him, startling him a little.

"No! Of course not. I would wait as long as needed for you, Belle," he said, getting up to greet you. He pulled out your chair, waited for you to sit, and then sat down himself.

"I missed you so much, Hyunnie," you said, looking outside, avoiding eye contact.

"I'm sorry. I don't know what happened to me. My mind just wouldn't let me do anything. It was like I ceased to exist for a couple of days. I didn't talk to anyone, literally, not even the guys. I know I should have told you that I wasn't feeling well to avoid worrying you, but I truly couldn't. I didn't even want to look at my phone. Nothing was motivating me," he said, his head down, afraid to see your reaction.

"Handsome, don't worry about that. I just want to know why you're feeling like this," you understood that he hadn't been okay with himself lately, so he couldn't be okay with anyone else until he resolved his internal conflicts.

"Oh God, if I say it, I'm going to start crying, Belle."

"And I'll be here to comfort you, my love. Please, talk to me."

"Everything they say about me on social media, they hate me so much, and I can't stand it. Do you hate me?" you could hear the brokenness in his voice.

"Of course not. I could never hate you, Hyunjin. You're the most precious person in my life and probably in the lives of many others. Don't pay attention to them. Those people are just filled with envy. They're jealous because they can't be you. Literally, they're sitting at home, commenting stupid things, while you're touring the world. They're just bitter. So don't listen to them. Many of your fans are doing everything they can to make all of you happy. I love you, okay?" you assured him, taking his hand and kissing it.

"I'm truly sorry. I love you so much. Like I said, I'm yours, and I'll continue to be for the rest of my life. Please love me the same way. Stay with me. In the future, be my wife," Hyunjin declared, looking directly into your eyes.

"I love you like no one else in this world, Hyunjin. In the future, let's be happier than ever."

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

Tags !!

@albaficaslover

@marcillfll

@str4wb3rryc0ww

@damselettism

#skz angst #skz imagines #skz reactions #skz stay #skz x reader #skz fluff #skz changbin #skz bang chan #skz hyunjin #skz hyung line #skz minho #skz texts #skz scenarios #skz series

797 notes · View notes

alexias-left-foot · 9 months ago

Text

Benção

Ive been writting this one for a while.

!Dont know if i will keep writting on this universe

Wrote this one while listening to a portuguese song, (dont ask please), link below

!Im not english, so im sorry for any spelling mistake!

«»«»«»«»«»«»«»«»«»«»«»«»«»«»«»«»«»«»«»«»«»«»«»«»«»«»«»«»«»«»

You know, she is probably still mad at me- you said to Mapi and Ingrid while making your way to the dressing room- If i tell her she won't probably talk to me ever again.

Cmon she knows you y/n! She has to understand that there is something more important going on. You have to tell her or she is going to break up with you. You can't hide it anymore. You have been so stressed, she is going to notice even more- Ingrid answered you.

You “have a kid”. Not you, but your ex. Your ex was pregnant 1 YEAR AND A HALF AGO! Now you have a kid with 9 months . Before you both broke up, almost 2 years ago, you both were trying to have a baby but it never worked, at least you thought that. Turns out you were wrong! She was pregnant all this damn time, had a kid and didn't tell you anything till last night.

Last week after your away easy win 6-0 against Valencia she, and your baby, were in the public. She asked you to talk with her, which was clearly strange. Then she told you that the kid that was sleeping like a little angel was yours. She also told you all of a story but you just did not pay any attention to her still in shock looking at the sleepy kid in the grey pram. She told you that didn't want the baby anymore and wanted to give the kid up for adoption and wanted to inform you about it. You were arguing with her and ended up saying that you would stay with the sleepy baby. She was a bit shocked but agreed and told you you have a couple of weeks till you have to go get the baby or the baby was going to be adopted. You just agreed and said that will keep in touch.

Ona saw you both talking and, of course didnt like it, mainly cause of the love story you and your ex had. She was really jealous and didnt talked to you until you were both at home. Where you both fought because she was jealous of your ex. She clearly made some movies on her head but you didnt want to keep arguing with her, it was a long day and you were so tired, so you just slept on the couch so you could get your head cleared.

Things got a bit better but you didn't tell her, not yet. Only Mapi and Ingrid know about it, they are your best friends and you needed to talk to someone so you talked to them. They were clearly in shock when you told them that but decided to help you. That's what they are trying to do now.

“Now let's go to practice so you can clear your mind a bit, vale”?- Mapi sayed while squeezing your cheek

Practice was fine but you weren't really present there, which made your teammates worried

“You need to tell her” Mapi said in the locker room. Mapi was right. You needed to tell her.

After a ride home that looked like an eternity, you were both at home.

You were both watching some trash tv when she breaked the weird silence.

“Hey, what's going on? You´ve been a bit strange since you talked with your ex” Ona said with a worried look. “I have something to tell you, bebé, I just don't know how to tell you” You said while the brunette looked with an even more worried look “I-I have a baby. I didn't knew it, my ex told me after the game against Valencia, that's what we were talking about. She wanted to give the baby up for adoption, but I just couldn't tell her to do it, when I looked at that little baby sleeping in such an innocent cute way. I didn't knew what to do or say to you, i'm so so sorry…” you gasped and took your eyes full of tears out of the floor to look at Ona who looked at you in shocked “You have a-a Kid?” she repeated while you nodded “And the kid is going to live with us” you nodded again. A minute of silence was made by both of you. Both of your hearts pumping fast

“I think I can handle that '' she smacked your arm, with a soft small smile on oour face, joking at you who were in tears by now.

She looked a bit unsure because of her smile being so small, but you just hugged her in a really sad but sweet hug.

“ Hey, hey, stop crying, okay you whiny? I'm here, I'm gonna help you through this, okay mi amor?I love you!” She was still making fun of you but she was as scared as you. It was her way to defend herself, being sarcastic and funny but you loved it even if it makes never be sure if she is scared or not.

“I love you too Oni, thanks for being here…” You managed to say while tears were rolling down your face and starting to get Ona´s eyes.

#ona batlle #ona batlle x reader #barcelona femeni #fc barcelona #mapi leon #ingrid engen

70 notes · View notes

detailtilted · 5 days ago

Text

VANCON 2011 J2 Panel - Can anyone help with subtitling a Japanese fan? Also, has anyone seen a season 5 or 6 BTS photo of Jared with a "huge book"?

Hi! I'm working very hard on my next Enhanced Edition video, the VANCON 2011 Main J2 panel.

One of the fans is from Japan, and that's not an accent I've had much exposure to in my life so I'm not very confident that I'm hearing her correctly. I received a lot of help here on Tumblr when I had similar issues subtitling a Chinese fan last May, so I thought I'd seek help with this one too. There are undoubtedly people on Tumblr who will have the background and/or experience that I lack to understand her words with greater accuracy.

I also have a second and probably very obscure question about a photo, further below.

Question #1 This clip has the fan's full question. I have three [inaudible]'s, and I do have some guesses for each of them, but I'll put my guesses at the very bottom of this post (along with some context) so people can first try to listen with ears that haven't been biased by my own interpretation.

Full text: "Hi. I'm from Japan. We are very grateful to have many people around the world [inaudible]. Now Misha [inaudible] he does that. So please give us your message to your [inaudible] in Japan."

Question #2 A fan said: "I saw the picture of Jared last season on set with this huge book..."

I couldn't find the photo she was talking about, but I'd love to put it in the sidebar if by some miracle anyone knows where to find it. It would probably only show for a few seconds before I have to take it down to make room for something else, so I'd feel terrible if anyone spent more than a few minutes trying to hunt it down (please don't!!), but I thought it couldn't hurt to ask in case someone out there has an incredible memory and/or an incredible filing system and knows right where to find it.

For context, they've just started filming season 7 and the season 6 finale aired about 3 months ago. I originally assumed "last season" meant season 6, but she may have meant season 5. Another fan in Misha's panel the day before called season 6 "this season".

It's also possible he just had a prop book or something. She went on to ask about their favorite books and authors, so I took it to mean it was a personal book, but maybe it was a prop.

My Thoughts and More Context on Question #1 Repeating the text here for easier reference:

"Hi. I'm from Japan. We are very grateful to have many people around the world [inaudible]. Now Misha [inaudible] he does that. So please give us your message to your [inaudible] in Japan."

* The first [inaudible] is the one I'm having the most trouble with. It sounds kind of like "say this prayer unto Asians". But that doesn't make much sense to me, unless it's a cultural reference I don't understand.

* The second [inaudible] sounds very much to me like "is ridiculed but of course". But I'm worried about misrepresenting what she's saying.

* And the third [inaudible] I think is probably "fan" but might be "family". I believe English plurals are challenging when coming from some languages, so I thought this might just be a small grammar mistake.

Context: Japan suffered a devastating earthquake in March 2011. This convention was in August 2011, so Japan was still recovering. When the earthquake happened in March, Misha posted a tweet for Japan and he posted it in the Japanese language, so I think that's what she may be referring to.

I also just want to emphasize that at the time of the earthquake, neither Jared nor Jensen were on Twitter. Jared joined in June 2011 and Jensen didn't join until 2014.

Edited to add: there's a little more to the video that influenced how I'm interpreting the context, so I'm including a link to AgtSpooky's video on YouTube (posted with permission by somebody else) that starts at the same place my above video does, so you can listen a little further for more context:

youtube

#j2 #jared padalecki #jensen ackles #Japan #Japanese accent #enhanced edition con video development #DetailTilted is once again driving herself insane over minutiae #misha collins #Youtube

32 notes · View notes

nyverieee · 3 months ago

Text

unmasking draco.

DRACO MALFOY X READER oneshot angst

TW: suicide.

summary: late one night, you find draco malfoy standing on the edge of the astronomy tower, broken and vulnerable. he reveals the dark mark burned into his skin, confessing the weight of his family's expectations. despite his guilt and fear, you refuse to see him as a monster. as he breaks down in your arms, he finally lets go of the mask he's worn for so long.

a/n: english isint my first language so sorry for any spelling mistakes/ things that donot make sense!

word count: 1037

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ

it was late, the night sky stretched out in front of us like an endless sea of stars. But draco wasn't looking at the stars. he was standing on the edge, his body poised as if he were ready to fall. his hands were shaking, barely noticeable, but i saw them.

i took a careful step forward, my heart pounding in my chest. "draco?" I called softly, my voice barely more than a whisper. "what are you doing?"

his head snapped up, his eyes wild, filled with something i couldn't place. the usual sneer, the mask of the proud malfoy was gone. in its place was something broken. something desperate.

"go away, Y/N" he said, his voice sharp. there was no venom behind it—just exhaustion, as if he had given up. "you don't understand."

"i don't think you do" i whispered, my voice barely steady as i took another step closer, my heart pounding. "draco, please... get down." i said, my voice softening

he didn't say anything for a moment, just stared down at the ground, his jaw clenched. but i saw the tension in his shoulders, the way he was holding himself together by sheer willpower.

"im a monster, Y/N," he said, his voice raw, cracking like glass. "ive always been one. the things I've done... the things my family expects me to do..."

I shook my head, stepping closer still. "youre not a monster, draco."

dracos eyes flashed at my words, and he turned to face me fully. "you don't get it!" he spat, his voice breaking. "this mark... its not just a symbol. its who i am. who ill always be. im trapped, Y/N. i can't escape it."

i felt my chest tighten as he pulled his sleeve up, exposing the dark ink that burned into his skin like a permanent scar. the dark mark.

i froze, my breath catching in my throat. the symbol of voldemorts power. the mark of a death eater. but seeing it on draco, someone i had known since birth, was like a punch to the gut.

draco didn't look at me. his eyes were on the mark, his fingers brushed over the dark ink as if he could erase it. "i never asked for this. i never wanted this life," he muttered, voice barely above a whisper. "but its mine now. its all i am."

he laughed bitterly, but it wasnt the cold, mocking laugh i was used to.

it was hollow, empty. "you cant see it, can you?" his voice cracked. "this mark is who I am now. its not just something thatll go away. no matter how much I want to change, no matter how hard I try... ill always be marked. and you... youre the only one who doesn't see me as a monster. the only one who doesn't look at me with disgust."

i stepped closer, my voice soft, desperate. "because.. i don't see a monster, draco."

he chuckled, a sound that was more like a painful exhale than genuine laughter. "you just dont get it, do you?" he whispered, his eyes still fixed on the mark, as if he couldnt bear to look at me.

he chuckled, a sound that was more like a painful exhale than genuine laughter. "you just dont get it, do you?" he whispered, his eyes still fixed on the mark, as if he couldn't bear to look at me.

i shook my head, taking another step forward, my voice trembling. "i dont care about that mark. i care about you."

"you don't understand," he repeated, his voice softer now, almost pleading. "im not good, ill alwats be the villain in every story."

i shook my head, my heart aching for him. "youre more than that. youve always been more."

his jaw clenched again, but this time, there was a vulnerability there. "you dont know what its like... to be a part of this."

"youre right" i cleared my throat. "but you dont have to carry this alone. im not going anywhere."

for a moment, he stood still, his breathing shallow, and then.. as if the weight of everything had finally worn him down, he let out a long breath and slowly lowered his arm.

"youre not afraid of me?" he asked, his voice barely audible.

i shook my head, stepping closer. "no, draco. I'm not afraid of you."

his eyes flickered with disbelief, as if searching for some trace of fear, but i didn't look away. "youre not a monster," i whispered. "i care about you, not that damn mark."

he didnt speak for a long moment, his fingers still brushing over the dark ink. the weight of everything seemed to collapse on him, and he took a shaky breath. his eyes softened, and for a moment..

i saw him—the real him—just beyond the mask. he took a deep breath and nodded, a silent acceptance.

dracos breath hitched as he looked at me, his walls finally cracking. "i don't know how to be anything else," he whispered, his voice breaking. "i dont know how to escape this."

befote i could respond, his shoulders gave way, and in an instant, he collapsed into me. his body shook with silent sobs, his face pressed against my shoulder as he broke down. the weight of everything he'd been holding in for so long seemed to pour out in that moment.

i wrapped my arms around him, holding him tightly, my heart aching for the boy who had always tried to be untouchable, strong, and invincible. but now, in my arms, he was just draco. vulnerable and lost.

i held him close, feeling his body tremble against mine. his sobs came in ragged gasps, as if every breath hurt.

he clung to me tighter, as if afraid id disappear if he let go. his breathing was slow, uneven, but the weight of the world seemed to lift a little with each passing second.

#harry potter #draco malfoy #harry potter fanfic #draco x reader #draco malfoy angst #angst #harry potter fluff

26 notes · View notes

zerun0 · 3 months ago

Note

please a Jayvik fic? that would be super cool and awesome sauce so I can pretend s2 didn't happen and they're having fun working as lab partners <3

"For now" — Viktor x Jayce

English is not my first language. Feel free to comment on any of my mistakes and i will update the post, also I more than happy to receive suggestions, and advice on how to improve my work.

— !SFW! — Established relationship, Fluff, Flirting, kissing. — Word count: — 1,9k (Full uncut version on AO3)

The Hextech lab buzzed with the energy of early afternoon. Shafts of sunlight filtered through the high windows, lighting up the chaotic jumble of notes, tools, and half-finished devices strewn across every surface. Jayce and Viktor stood side by side, arms crossed, looking down at the creature sitting proudly on their workbench, a round, fluffy Poro with stubby legs and an unshakable confidence.

“I trust you two implicitly! ”— Heimerdinger declared, his tiny hands clasped behind his back as he beamed up at them. “This little one has a, shall we say, spirit for exploration, when it’s not napping.”

Jayce leaned forward, hands braced on his knees. — “Professor, are you sure you can’t just take it to your meeting? I mean, it’s not like the Council Chamber is a lab full of fragile, priceless equipment.”

“Oh, nonsense!” — Heimerdinger waved his hand dismissively. — “They wouldn’t understand his unique needs. Besides, you’re the perfect duo for the task.” — He gestured between the two of them, eyes twinkling. — “Viktor with his sharp mind, and Jayce with his...big heart. Surely you’ll manage.”

Viktor arched an eyebrow. — “Professor, I am not certain that babysitti-”

“Ah! Not babysitting! Mentoring!” — Heimerdinger corrected. He patted the Poro, which chirped happily. — “He has much to learn about the world, and you’ll provide him with a safe, structured environment.”

The Poro hopped in place, nearly knocking over a flask of shiny blue liquid. Jayce caught it mid-air with quick reflexes, sighing sharply as he set it back down. — “Safe and structured,” — Viktor repeated dryly but in a low tone, unheard.

“Now, I must be off. Don’t let him out of your sight!” — With that, the diminutive professor bustled out, leaving the two young inventors staring at the small, smug creature that now ruled their afternoon.

Jayce straightened, running a hand through his hair. — “Okay, this can’t be that hard. He’s just a little…fluffy thing. How much trouble can he cause?”

The Poro tilted its head innocently before leaping off the table and darting into the maze of equipment.

“Right,” — Viktor muttered, already reaching for his cane to follow.

— Half an hour later, the lab looked like a storm had hit it.

“Where did he go this time?” — Jayce asked, hands on his hips. “Under the shelf,” — Viktor replied, not even looking up from where he was recalibrating a delicate instrument.

Jayce knelt down, peering into the shadows. — “Come on, little guy,” — he coaxed, waving the brightly colored toy Heimerdinger had left. The Poro eyed him warily, a small item clamped in its teeth.

“Don’t chew on that!” — Jayce lunged, but the Poro darted out of reach, bounding across the lab and knocking over a stack of schematics.

“Jayce,” — Viktor said calmly, — “please do not let him destroy everything we have worked on in the past three weeks.”

Jayce groaned, gathering up the scattered pages. — “Why does it like chewing on stuff so much? What does Heimerdinger even feed it?”

“Chaos, apparently,”— Viktor replied, glancing toward the Poro as it hopped onto one of the tables. It sniffed at a set of neatly arranged tools before pawing at them — “He must be bored. Perhaps we should entertain him?”

Jayce stared at him. — “Entertain? Viktor, it’s a Poro, not a toddler.”

“Clearly, you have never babysat before.” — Viktor sighed and set down his tools. He approached the Poro. With surprising gentleness, he reached out, holding the toy at the perfect angle to catch the creature’s attention.

The Poro sniffed it, intrigued, before pouncing.

“See?” — Viktor said, holding the Poro in place with one hand while it gnawed happily on the toy. — “It is not so difficult.”

Jayce folded his arms, watching with a surprised smile. — “You’re good at this. I guess all those late nights in the lab have taught you patience.”

“Or perhaps I am simply better at adapting than you.” — Viktor’s smirk was subtle, but it lingered.

Jayce chuckled. — “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

“Immensely.” — Viktor replied.

They stood in silence for a moment, Viktor holding the Poro steady while Jayce leaned against the table, watching the two of them. The afternoon sunlight caught in Viktor’s pale features, highlighting the sharp angles of his face and the focused intensity of his eyes.

“You know,” — Jayce began, his voice quieter, — “you’re always surprising me.”

Viktor glanced at him, eyebrow raised. — “Am I?”

“Yeah. Like,” — He paused for a second — “I didn’t think you’d be the kind of person who’s good with animals. But… you are.”

“Hmm.” — Viktor considered this for a moment before returning his attention to the Poro. — “I suppose I have an affinity for difficult creatures.”

Jayce laughed, the sound warm and unguarded. — “Are you calling me a difficult creature?”

“Do you require constant supervision and occasionally eat things you should not?” — Viktor shot him a sidelong glance.

Jayce held up his hands in mock surrender. — “Okay, fair-”

The Poro squeaked suddenly, leaping from Viktor’s hands and bounding toward another set of delicate instruments.

“Not again,” — Viktor sighed, already moving to intercept. Jayce followed, their shoulders brushing as they reached the table at the same time. Viktor’s hand caught the Poro, and Jayce steadied the precarious setup of tools.

For a moment, they were close, closer than usual. The Poro squirmed between them, but neither moved.

“Jayce,” — Viktor said quietly, his tone neutral but his gaze intent. — “You are staring again.”

Jayce blinked, caught off guard by Viktor’s observation. The air between them felt heavier now. He straightened awkwardly, still holding the resistor, and glanced away.

“I, uh… wasn’t staring,” — Jayce said, his voice not quite as confident as usual.

Viktor’s expression softened just a fraction, the faintest hint of amusement tugging at the corner of his mouth. He leaned back slightly, shifting his weight onto his prosthetic as his golden eyes lingered on Jayce.

“You are a terrible liar,” — Viktor replied, his voice quieter now, almost teasing.

Jayce exhaled a nervous laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. — “Maybe. Or maybe you’re just too good at reading people.”

“That is possible,” — Viktor admitted, his smirk fading into something more thoughtful. He tilted his head slightly, studying Jayce as if trying to decipher an equation. — “But it is not often you are at a loss for words. I find it…interesting.”

Jayce’s pulse quickened under Viktor’s gaze, and he suddenly felt very warm in the already stuffy lab. — “You’ve got this way of throwing me off balance, you know that?”

Viktor raised an eyebrow. — “And here I thought you were the unshakable one.”

For a moment, silence fell between them, broken only by the faint hum of the outside world and the occasional chirp from the Poro, now happily chewing on its toy on the other side of the room. Jayce hesitated, then took a small step closer.

“Viktor,” — he began, his voice low, — “I don’t know if I’m just imagining this, but…”

“You are not,” — Viktor interrupted, his tone even, though there was a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes.

Jayce’s breath caught. Viktor rarely spoke so plainly, and hearing him admit it sent a rush of heat through Jayce’s chest. Slowly, he reached out, his fingers brushing Viktor’s forearm. Viktor didn’t pull away.

“Are you sure about this?” — Jayce asked, his voice barely above a whisper. — “Am I reading the signs correctly?”

“Yes” — Viktor broke the silence after a few long teasing seconds.

Jayce smiled, his heart pounding as he closed the remaining distance between them. The quiet hum of the lab seemed to fade into the background, leaving only the sound of their breaths, shallow and uneven. He lifted his hand, fingers trembling slightly as he lightly cupped Viktor’s jaw. Viktor’s skin was cool under his touch, his breath hitching in response.

Viktor’s hand hovered uncertainly at Jayce’s waist before finally settling there, his grip hesitant but firm. Jayce felt a shiver run through him at the contact, his chest tightening as he took in the vulnerability in Viktor’s gaze.

Slowly, he leaned in, his thumb brushing along the sharp line of Viktor’s cheekbone. When their lips met, it was tentative at first, as if testing the waters. Viktor tensed briefly, but then he relaxed, leaning into the kiss with a quiet sigh.

Jayce’s hand slid to the back of Viktor’s neck, pulling him closer as the kiss deepened. Viktor’s fingers tightened at Jayce’s waist, drawing him in as if the space between them was unbearable. It was unlike anything Jayce had expected… soft, electric, and somehow grounding all at once.

Viktor’s other hand came up, tentative at first, brushing against Jayce’s chest before resting there. Jayce could feel Viktor’s pulse through his fingertips, quick and unsteady, mirroring his own. Their movements grew less cautious, lips parting as the kiss turned warmer, more urgent.

Jayce’s free hand found Viktor’s waist, his thumb brushing over the fabric of his coat. Viktor responded with a quiet noise in his throat. He pressed closer, feeling the cool edge of Viktor’s prosthetic against his leg, a detail that grounded the moment in reality despite the overwhelming intensity.

“Jayce,” — Viktor murmured against his lips, the sound low and breathless.

“Yeah?” — Jayce replied, his voice rough as he barely pulled back.

Viktor didn’t answer, instead tugging him back into another kiss, hungrier this time. Jayce’s hand slid down to Viktor’s hip, fingers gripping just hard enough to make Viktor’s breath hitch again.

And then—

The door creaked open.

Jayce and Viktor broke apart with the speed of two guilty schoolchildren, Jayce stumbling back into a stool, nearly knocking it over. Viktor turned sharply, his hand darting to adjust the nearest instrument as if he’d been working all along.

“Ah, there you are!” — Heimerdinger’s cheerful voice filled the lab as he bustled in, utterly unaware of the thick air of awkwardness hanging between them.

“I’ve come back for our little friend,” — Heimerdinger continued, oblivious to the tension. — “The council meeting finished ahead of schedule, and I believe it’s time for a walk, and perhaps a treat!”

Jayce cleared his throat, his face burning as he tried to compose himself. — “Oh, uh, great! He’s… been fine. No trouble at all.” — He shot Viktor a quick glance, but Viktor was steadfastly avoiding his gaze, his attention fixed on the tools in front of him.

Heimerdinger crouched down to scoop up the Poro, who chirped happily at the sight of its owner. — “Ah, there you are, my mischievous little friend! I trust you didn’t cause too much chaos?”

The Poro squeaked innocently as it nuzzled against Heimerdinger’s face.

“No chaos,” — Jayce said quickly, flashing a nervous smile.— “Everything was… under control.”

“Splendid!” — Heimerdinger said, cradling the Poro like a prized treasure. He glanced around the lab, seemingly pleased with what he saw. —“And you’ve made excellent progress, I see. Such dedicated young minds, you make me proud!”

“Thank you, Professor,” — Viktor said smoothly, though there was a slight stiffness to his tone.

Heimerdinger didn’t seem to notice. — “Well then, I won’t keep you from your work any longer. You’ve certainly earned some peace and quiet.” — He gave a final, beaming smile before heading toward the door, the Poro perched happily in his arms.

The door clicked shut behind him, leaving the lab in heavy silence once again.

Jayce exhaled a long breath, running a hand through his hair. —“That was…”

“Fortunate,” — Viktor finished, his voice dry but his cheeks faintly flushed.

Jayce turned to him, a sheepish grin spreading across his face. — “I thought he was never going to leave.”

Before Jayce could say anything else, Viktor leaned in, his lips brushing against Jayce’s in a quick, soft kiss. It was light, almost tentative, but enough to send a jolt of warmth through Jayce’s chest.

When they pulled away, Jayce smiled, his heart racing. —“I think we’re good,” he murmured.

Viktor’s lips curled into a soft smile. — “For now.”

#viktor #viktor arcane #arcane fanfic #jayce talis #jayce x viktor #jayvik

34 notes · View notes

frakts1ya · 2 months ago

Text

love talk ft. qian kun

• wc : 0.8k •

You weren't planning for today to end up like this. No, not with you starting your day in a boring meeting. You went to your favorite coffee shop and bought your usual coffee order, then you left and took the subway to the building your meeting took place in.

The elevator went up slowly, slower than usual, but you didn't say anything about it. The elevator had some problems, and you were used to it. It never stopped on you.

The meeting took your mind off the elevator anyways. You were on the verge of falling asleep, your boss's monotonous voice like a lullaby.

It went downhill from there. You got in the elevator alone, which was about to close until someone opened the elevator. He slightly bowed as a way to apologize, and you nodded your head back.

The elevator went down to floor 26, then 25, then 24, until it stopped. You pressed the zero button again, but the elevator didn't move.

You looked at the man who was in the elevator along with you: dark brown hair, piercing eyes, and a clean suit.

Oh, that guy. The man in the elevator with you was a friend of your boss, running another section of the same big company. You remember him being in the meeting with you, someone whispering to him the entire time.

“What do we do?” You asked, slumping down in one of the elevator corners.

Instead of responding, the man quirked an eyebrow up at you. “No… English.” He took out his phone and typed in Google Translate reading out loud, “I'm fluent in Chinese and Korean. I just don't know much English, sorry.”

You were fucked. You also took your phone out and typed, translating your words in Chinese. “We're stuck here until the firefighters come, we need to press the emergency button. What's your name?”

The man answered out loud this time, “Kun, and you?” Also, as you said, he hit the button on the elevator that called emergency services.

“Y/n. Nice to meet you.” You held your hand out, and he shook it.

“Nice to meet you too.” Kun wasn't that bad at English. Like he said, he knew some words. But was it enough for you two to communicate? Probably not.

You and him stared at each other for a while. You were going to say something else to him, but then the signal on your phone disappeared. “Shit!” You exclaimed, trying to hold your phone up, “There's no signal!”

You slumped back on the floor, Kun deciding to sit next to you. His hand rested on your shoulder. “It's going to be okay.”

“You think so?” You murmured, head in hands. Kun nodded in response.

You had no idea how long it would take for the firefighters to arrive. What if you died here? Okay, you're overreacting, but it could happen?

Kun mutters something in Chinese, which you don't understand. You turned to him and cocked your head in confusion.

“你很漂亮, you're pretty,” he repeated.

Your face heated, a goofy smile on your face as you averted eye contact. “You're quite handsome too, Kun.”

“Huh?”

You were going to rip your skin off. If it wasn't obvious you were embarrassed earlier, it definitely was now. “You're hot.”

“Ah.”

An awkward silence filled the elevator. Kun rested his hand on yours, opening his mouth to say something but hesitating.

“Can we stay in touch after?” You ask, pointing to your phone.

“Sure,” He replied, inching closer towards you. “我喜欢你, I like you.”

“I like you too.” Your eyes met his icy blue ones, and as if the world stopped, your lips approached his until they were touching.

He dragged you onto his lap, deepening the kiss. Even when you felt lightheaded from the lack of oxygen, Kun only pulled away to whisper praises you don't understand.

"Kun, more, please," You whined, hands grabbing onto his shoulders to give yourself some kind of balance.

You and Kun were so lost in each other you didn't hear the elevator doors being forced open. “Are you two okay?” You immediately pushed yourself off him, but the damage is already done.

“Yes, we're fine. Thank you for saving us,” You said. Both you and Kun looked disheveled, but the rescuers didn't seem to question it.

Kun pointed at your phone, “My number?”

You handed him your phone, watching as he typed his contact in his phone. “Call me.” He winked before running off.

Your heart skipped a beat at his final statement. At least he knew that much English?

#hoshii writes #wayv x reader #wayv #qian kun #qian kun x reader #nct x reader #nct

16 notes · View notes

iplayguitarbutshesintodrummers · 3 months ago

Text

band wars

pairing: Michael Clifford x Reader (she/her)

warning: angst, insults, some fluff, alcohol mention, enemies to lovers. THIS IS ALL FICTION! don't get too serious about it

autor note: sorry if there's any grammatical error, english is not my first language

summary: your band (Midnight Drivers) belonged to hi or hey records which leaded your band to end up interacting with 5sos but you just didn't get along well with Michael, you two were constantly fighting about who's better guitarist, songwriter or producer.

pov y/n

"you are doing it wrong!"

Michael sighed in frustration and sat down in a nearly chair already fed up with the situation

"it's not even your own song, how the fuck can you know if im doing it well or wrong?!"

I fought back.

it was always like this, we were constantly arguining about stupid stuff.

But now the argument was more annoying since the studio 5sos usually use was in repairs, we had to share our studio with them.

"Can you two please calm down?!"

Amelia, one of my bandmates scolded us

"at first it was a funny situation but now you two are just being annoying!

Can't you guys get along for at least 20 minutes?"

"...no?"

Michael answered and all complained and groaned

"im done"

Amelia said standing up and going out of the studio.

We knew we were too annoying sometimes but in self defense, Michael always started the fights between us, teasing me constantly wanting to get a reaction out me, i don't even know when this rivalry exactly started, i just know that if it was the end of the world i would prefer to spend it with anyone else but Michael.

We were about to go out to stage to perform our new song with the 5sos boys since it was a collaboration we made together.

Luke annouced the name of our band and we runned towards the stage.

Amelia went towards the other drums next to Ashton's, Tori stood with her bass next to Calum, Lily had her mic in her hand, and i had to stand next to Michael with my guitar.

The song started, the crowd was amazing, jumping around and screaming the lyrics

Everyone was having a good time until the guitar solo arrived.

I was playing along with Michael until the solo started to get a little bit longer and we ended up having a guitar solos fight in the middle of the stage, Ashton and Amelia trying to keep our peace, Luke, Calum and Tori having to repeat the chord progression like 5 times until Amelia made me a sign to stop, and i indicate Michael that we should stop but he didn't cared and kept playing His guitar.

Until Luke, Tori, Calum, Ashton and Amelia stopped playing and Michael had to play along and pretend nothing happend.

Once the show ended we met the boys on the backstage

"what the hell happend up there?!"

Lily asked me and Michael

"i dunno, ask him! He started the whole solo fight"

I crossed my arms and tensed my jaw trying not to explode of anger in that same exact moment

"you were keeping it up, so it's basically your fault!"

Michael fought back.

That was it, that was the straw that broke the camel's back

"that's it."

"im sick of your fucking atittude Michael, i can't even remember when we started to get along so badly but what i remember is that you are the same as annoying as you were the day that i met you. I can't even understand what the fuck did i do to make you hate me so much, im so fucking tired of fighting with you every single day-

You know what? Don't talk to me, ever again"

I left the dressing room and went straight to our van just waiting for the girls to come in with me so we could go back home.

The next few months i've been avoiding him for as much as i could.

We were in the middle of our tour along with 5sos, even if we were performing in different stadiums in the same city, we were staying in the same hotel and having shared after parties.

The music was busting from the speakers, there was people dancing, some other making out, and other people making drinking games.

I was chatting with my bandmates and something catched my eye.

It was Michael, drinking in a corner all alone.

"can you guys.. excuse me for a bit?"

I said while i stood up not really waiting for an answer, i walked towards Michael and stood against the wall next to him

"what do you want?"

Michael asked before i could even open my mouth

"I was going to try to be a decent human being and ask you how you were but now im not really in the mood anymore"

"Whatever"

He started to walk towards the exit door of the bar, leaving his cup on a random table, i followed him. I was having enough of his attitude, i deserved to know what was his problem

"Clifford!"

I called out when i saw he stopped to lean against a wall, when he saw me he rolled his eyes and sighed

"what part of "i don't like being around you" did you not understand?"

"And why's that? Because i don't even know why or how we started to hate each other! Im sick of your attitude and i think i deserve to know why are you like this towards me, because you don't know much i tried to be your friend and you just keep pushing me away and treating me like a piece of shit!"

He walked towards me and stood dangerously closer to me

"do you really want to know why am i like this towards you?!"

I stayed in silence surprised because of how closer he was to me, a couple of seconds later a teasing grin appeard in my face

"what are you doing?"

I said teasing clearly pointing the almost non-existent space between us, he quickly stepped back and covered his blushed expression

"are you blushing?"

"no, im not! Shut up!"

I giggled while he was just looking at me like if he wanted to kill me for laughing at him

"sorry, sorry. However, to answer your question, yes, i would like to know why you hate me so much"

"I hate you because-.... Because..."

I raised a brow seeing how he was struggling to get the words out

"you don't really have a good reason to hate me, do you?"

"yes i do! You are-"

"you are so fucking annoying!"

"why?"

I crossed my arms

"because- you-"

He sighed and looked away

"alright, im done with this"

I turned around to walk away but suddenly Michael took my wrist and pulled me back towards him to make me stay.

When he realized his grip was on my wrist he let go of me and just stepped back before brushing his hair back in frustration

"i hate you so damn much because you are too fucking amazing to be real"

"excuse me?! Is this all because you are just fucking jealous of me? Get a real problem Michael!"

"you don't understand! It's not because im jealous of you!"

He stepped further and i did as well

"what Is it then?! What can make you hate me so much if i didn't do anything?!"

"Because i fucking like you Y/N!"

My eyes widened, did i just heared what i think i heared?

"I've been fucking in love with you since we met but i knew i was way out of your league and i thought that the only way to at least get some of your attention was by bothering you and i-"

i cupped his face with my hands and i shut him up by just kissing him.

After a couple of seconds i pulled away

"wha-what was that..?"

"a kiss, you never had one?"

"oh, shut up"

"make me"

He raised a brow before pulling me back for another kiss

hope you guys liked it! Remind to support your writers and favorite fics!

Tysm for reading <3

26 notes · View notes

flowerandblood · 9 months ago

Text

The Fall from the Heavens (36)

[ canon • Aemond x Strong • niece female ]

[ warnings: hard sexual abuse, torture and starvation, angst, swearing, description of the murders ]

Characters & Series Moodboard

Lady Strong Moodboard

Aemond & Lady Strong Moodboard

Aemond & Lady Strong Childhood

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

After Prince Aemond and his wife flew off on their dragons into the skies to meet their destiny in the Eyrie, Alys knew what awaited her; Larys paid her a visit shortly after they left the fortress. Despite his light, dreamy smile, her brother's blank, dark gaze expressed everything he had to convey to her.

He was not pleased.

"I'm disappointed. I thought we had made an agreement." He hummed, walking slowly over to the table she sat at, watching him vigilantly, his hand reaching for one of the vessels in which she kept her herbs.

"Worthless objects are usually…thrown away. Do you agree with me, sister?" He asked calmly and smiled gently at her, as if he had just said something comforting. Her expression and grin did not change, although a cold, unpleasant shiver ran along her spine.

She knew what awaited her.

She had seen it in her dream.

The strange, drunken men, guards and servants who could use her body as much as they liked in the darkness of her cell.

She didn't pose or look at them – she just tried to think of something else. She imagined then her unborn child, her mother's face, the soft smile of the little girl who might already be dead, betrayed by her husband.

She tried not to exist, pretended to herself that this was not her body.

The only man who did not take the opportunity to humiliate her was the guard who had been her lover for years, the same one who had watched over her chambers.

She felt a kind of emotion when Ser Erwin came to her in the morning, before his service began, covering her bared, bruised body with a sheet, always bringing her a piece of bread, letting her drink the wine that soothed her pain.

She would not eat or drink anything Larys's servants brought her, knowing that she would die in agony afterwards.

"Forgive me. If I defy him, he will hurt my wife and my children." He muttered, pressing his lips together, his bearded, broad, masculine face contorted in a grimace of pain, his eyes red from tears of grief.

He really pitied her.

She touched his arm and he placed his wide, rough hand on hers.

"I know. Protect your family. I will survive this. I'm grateful to you for what you're doing for me and I'll never forget it."

The man nodded.

"There is something else." She whispered. Ser Erwin looked at her, surprised.

The same dream repeated itself again and again every night: a white deer in a sea of blood and a man standing over it, whose silhouette she knew very well.

"I saw a wounded white deer in the darkness. I saw you standing over him. Promise me that when Prince Aemond arrives here, you will watch over him and his wife." She said.

He stared at her as if considering her words, then nodded again and stood up, leaving her alone in her prison.

And then there was silence.

The men ceased to visit her, and there was an uneasy, dark emptiness in the fortress.

The next day he arrived.

She knew it would happen.

She knew he would come, seeking answers.

In his armour, he looked older and more mature – looking at him from afar, she thought with amusement that, indeed, he was a handsome man and, were it not for his sweet wife, she would have loved to play with him, if only for her own amusement.

So helpless, hiding behind the walls of his pride, filled with complexes and fears, like a little child craving only someone's warm word and praise.

"Why did you lie? I could have your head for this." He hissed, angry and tense, standing at a good distance from the bars as if he feared he might otherwise fall under the influence of her charms.

She laughed weakly at his words.

"If there were no capacity for treachery in you, my words would not frighten you, Your Grace. But it wouldn’t be the first time you’ve stabbed her in the back, would it?" She sneered, saying exactly what she was thinking, thus bringing him completely off balance.

"Why?" He growled, pale as if he was about to faint.

She couldn't believe how frightened he was.

Did he consider that his will as a man was so weak?

That he wouldn't control his members and would just fuck her?

"My brother reckoned that after what was going to happen in the Eyrie she would try to take her own life again. I don’t consider myself a good person, but I’m not heartless. I wanted you to be horrified by my words and get her as far away from here as possible." She said.

"How dare you manipulate me and my wife." He hissed, enraged.

"I didn’t manipulate her. There was no need for that. You. Your pride wouldn’t allow you to listen to the advice of a bastard woman, on top of the Strong line. A witch’s prophecy that could give birth to your bastard child would be a different matter. Wouldn’t it?’" She asked mockingly and noticed how something changed in the look in his eye, his brow arching in pain.

He was suffering.

But why?

After a moment, however, the expression on his face changed, replaced by fury.

"Whose fucking side are you on, you insolent whore?" He growled through clenched teeth, as if he felt like spitting on her.

She realised then that it wasn't himself he was afraid of, but her.

She liked that.

"I am on my side. But my cold heart supports your wife. She has broken deep into it and refuses to leave it. I’m certain you understand me. Such a sweet girl." She hummed, wanting to bring him out of his daze, and the effect she provoked was even stronger than she had anticipated.

"SHUT YOUR MOUTH!" He shouted low, hatred and madness in his eye, his jaw clenched as tightly as if it was going to burst – he took one step towards her cell as if he wanted to tear her apart but stopped, panting heavily.

Gods.

He was jealous of his little wife.

He was afraid she would take her away from him.

His rage and fear were indeed great, for it seemed to her that he really wanted her to die of hunger and thirst. It was only a few days later that the guards whom she did not know and who had probably travelled with him from King's Landing opened her cell, ordering her to rise.

She did so with difficulty, sore, hungry and thirsty, and moved slowly with them through the familiar corridors of the fortress of Harrenhal. She pressed her lips together as she noticed out of the corner of her eye a fair-haired man watching her vigilantly, one of her brother's spies.

What was he doing here?

Why hadn't the prince sent him away?

Only then did she realise that he certainly had claimed to be a completely different person, putting his guards' vigilance to sleep.

"I need to speak to the Prince." She muttered, sitting down on her bed without strength. The guard placed a plate of bread and a jug of apple juice on her table.

"Be silent, witch. Be thankful to the gods that you are still alive." Said the man through clenched teeth, looking at her with disgust and left, closing the door. She heard the sound of the key turning in the lock and sighed heavily, burying her face in her hands.

She thought that Larys would certainly not poison the prince, but would be watching him with the help of this boy.

Indeed, the man brought her food and drink several times. She sniffed the juice he brought her and then split an apple lying on a tray in half and poured the contents of her cup over it. She snorted under her breath as the apple instantly turned black and began to break into pieces.

The Last Breath.

A poison created from a decoction of several herbs that could only be found locally in the region of Riverlands, slowing the heart rate and making breathing difficult, in large quantities suffocating the victim, in small quantities causing slow agony.

For reasons she understood, Prince Aemond did not visit her throughout his stay in Harrenhal, thus earning her respect and affection – she recognised that since he wanted to catch her brother he felt guilty and wanted to reward his wife for his moment of hesitation.

One night she dreamt of a great stone fortress reaching up to the sky surrounded by clouds, around which she seemed to hear the sea. She looked down upon it, flying on a dragon she had never seen before.

She opened her eyes and swallowed hard, wondering what she had actually seen and what it meant.

The dragon she saw belonged to neither Prince Aemond nor his wife.

So to whom?

That she did not know, but she knew for a fact that she would be leaving Harrenhal soon.

And then she appeared in the doorway of her chamber.

She felt a pleasant warmth in her stomach at the sight of her, her heart pounding faster in the hope that perhaps this girl would forgive her for what she had done, understand that she wanted her good.

She swallowed hard noticing in her eyes sadness so deep and infinite that she felt a squeeze in her throat.

"You predicted my husband would give birth to your bastard child." She said in a trembling, breaking voice, betrayed, humiliated, distraught.

"I lied. I saw nothing of the sort neither in my dreams nor in the fire." She said calmly, looking her straight in the eye. The prince's wife pressed her lips together at her words and furrowed her brow, anger and frustration in her gaze that startled her.

"How dare you lie to my husband, and your Prince?" She asked dryly, standing up for her husband to her astonishment.

How dare you manipulate me and my wife.

She saw that her hand was stroking her lower abdomen in a gesture of nervousness, something she had not done before.

Two streams of blood finally merging into one.

"You are expecting his child." She whispered, but the girl didn't answer her.

Alys sighed heavily.

"My brother had plans for you. He ordered me to seduce the Prince. He wanted you to step aside and try to take your own life again. He knew that your husband would then fall into complete darkness."

Her eyebrows arched in pain, as if some part of her really wanted to believe her.

She was so innocent.

"You didn't tell me about this."

"No."

"You and my husband. You are identical."

She smiled sadly at her words, understanding perfectly what she meant.

They were both a dancing, aggressive fire that burned everything around them, lonely stars in the sky that could only devour each other.

"Yes. Yes, we are."

Her eyebrows arched in pain, her pretty, bright eyes shone with tears of disappointment.

"I believed you."

"I regret not telling you. I didn't want to destroy your already strained trust in him." She whispered, lowering her gaze to the stone floor, recognising, however, that there was nothing more she could do now.

It was already too late.

"Did you make an attempt?"

She blinked, snapped out of her reverie and looked at her, not understanding her question.

"Your Grace?"

"Did you try to seduce him?"

"No. I didn't go near him."

"Why?"

"Because he would have killed me. I just wanted your husband to make the right decision. For him to be scared of what might happen, to try to change the future. For him to tell you about what's happening here."

"I believed you. I opened my heart to you." She muttered in a breaking voice, from which she felt a cold sweat on her neck.

"I know."

The girl pressed her lips together – even though she was clearly trying to remain calm a single, lonely tear ran down her cheek.

"− there are still people in this fortress who will want to kill you − especially beware of the young, fair-haired man − don't eat or drink anything he serves you −" She said finally, wanting her to understand that hurting her was never her purpose or desire.

Like her husband, she could not express her feelings or affection other than through actions, even if they remained incomprehensible to her.

"− why didn't you tell my husband about this? −" She muttered in disbelief.

"− I saw this boy when I was moved back to my chamber − the Prince didn't want to see me anymore then − this servant brought me poisoned food several times, a gift from my brother −"

An uncomfortable, long silence fell between them − her gaze expressed horror, shock and disbelief, her small figure trembling all over in fear. She finally swallowed loudly and lifted her chin higher, trying to control herself and calm down.

"My husband gave Harrenhal to me to rule. That means I will decide what happens to the people who serve here, including you."

Alys didn't even flinch at her words, thinking only with her admiration that her husband did indeed have a great deal of remorse for what he had never actually done.

She thought that perhaps she had inadvertently contributed to something that helped them both.

Her husband had opened up to her, shown her his weakness and helplessness, and she hadn't pushed him away despite her disappointment.

"I saw it in a dream. A stone castle reaching to the skies. That's where you'll send me away." She said softly, and she nodded as if it was indeed as she had said.

"I will not forget what you have done for me, that you warned me. As an expression of my gratitude you will be given gold, and by my order all your belongings will be moved to the Eyrie. My cousin, after spies were discovered in his fortress, is indebted to my family and will receive you with honours. I will introduce you in my letter as a valuable medic who should work alongside the maester. You will not lack anything there."

The Eyrie?

She remained silent, wondering if there was a sea or river somewhere near this fortress, but she wasn't sure.

She decided it didn't matter.

And then what she had feared happened.

The boy had tried to poison her.

She wondered if Prince Aemond would come to her chamber and kill her too, but he didn't.

She heard the guards speaking with each other, saying that he had ordered the servants to try the poisoned wine, and they died one by one in agony in front of his eyes.

They said that looking at them the Prince was grinning broadly.

She swallowed hard at the thought and closed her eyes, already understanding why her brother cared so much about ending her life.

Larys was willing to sacrifice all these people just to get rid of this little girl once and for all and regain his power over her husband.

In keeping with his wife's wishes, she prepared to leave − she did not resent her for wanting to send her away, in fact feeling a peace in her soul at the thought that perhaps her life would now be better than it had been, and she would not have to worry about her welfare.

She looked towards her door, surprised when she heard someone turn the key in the lock. After a moment, it opened, and a young man with beautiful dark curls and bright eyes entered her chamber. She blinked, thinking he reminded her of someone, but she wasn't sure who.

Who was he that he could walk in here?

"My Lady." He said softly and bowed, as if she were a lady of great lineage and not a bastard. She smiled indulgently at the thought, folding one of her gowns, placing it in her trunk alongside the other things she wanted to take with her.

"My Lord." She replied, eager to hear what the young man was coming to her with.

The boy seemed ashamed and uncertain, as if he himself did not know what he was actually doing in her quarters. He began to look around her room, looking at the jars and vessels full of herbs, roots, liquids and other objects she used in her craft.

"I heard you're a witch. Is that true?" He asked casually, a light, wry smile on his lips, as if the thought amused him. She smirked involuntarily at his words, tucking her books into her trunk.

"So they say, my Lord." She hummed and sighed quietly, wondering whether or not a book on philosophy would be of use to her in the Eyrie.

"Did you know my father?" He asked finally, and she looked at him surprised, finally understanding who was standing before her.

He was her brother.

Yes, she thought.

They were so similar.

"Yes." She replied calmly, reaching for more books from her shelf. The boy shifted from foot to foot and swallowed hard, tense.

"Was he a good man? A man of honour?" He asked proudly, however his voice trembled, as if he feared her answer. She froze in mid-motion and thought for a moment.

"He was a compassionate man with a sharp tongue. He was cordial. He laughed a lot. He always treated me with dignity, and his father was proud of him." She finally replied, involuntarily remembering his face.

"Wasn't that your father too?" He asked uncertainly, and she smiled involuntarily.

"Indeed, but only formally. He put his seed inside my poor mother, nothing more." She said.

A long silence fell between them.

"I am also a bastard." He said finally and drew in the air loudly, as if the words were leaving his throat with difficulty. "And I regret that I came into this world."

She turned towards him, curious, wondering if he was looking for her support and advice. She cocked her head and hummed, running her fingers along the table top in front of her.

"From what I understand, you have become heir to Dragonstone. Would you rather be a bastard king? People don't forget someone's origins, even less so when that person rules a kingdom."

She saw that he lifted the gaze of his bright eyes to her, in his expression something similar to what she had seen in the face of Prince Aemond's wife.

They were both sensitive, warm, compassionate, empathetic and assertive at the same time, but what in her case as a woman was an asset, in his case was clearly the cause of his complexes and misery.

He felt too fragile, too weak, unable to be the kind of man that was expected of him − cold, brutal, threatening, mocking, ironic.

It was impossible to change his nature and he felt humiliated.

She thought she understood him.

"You also have a beautiful betrothed. I saw her arrive with your sister through that window." She said calmly, walking around her table and past him, reaching for one of the jars that stood on a bookcase against the wall. When she turned, he was looking at her in a way from which she stopped in half a step.

"I don't love her. And she doesn't love me."

She blinked and swallowed quietly, not taking her eyes off him. He gave up and lowered his head, his cheeks red with shame.

"Marriages are rarely created on the basis of true passionate, sincere affection." She replied, not intending to judge or rebuke him.

"However, my sister does not see the world beyond my uncle, and he spends every night with her." He muttered angrily and regretfully, like a small child who envied others for being able to play with better toys. She sighed quietly at his words and shook her head.

"Their affection was a gift to them from the gods." She said, walking back to her trunk, putting the jar of herbs inside.

"Are you leaving Harrenhal?" He asked suddenly, as if understanding that she was packing her belongings to set off on her journey.

"Your sister is sending me to your cousin in the Eyrie to serve him as a medic." She said calmly. Her nephew stepped closer to her, furrowing his brow.

"Why?"

Curious little thing.

"They don't want anyone associated with Larys Strong to remain in the fortress." She lied. "Thanks to her, Prince Aemond spared my life."

"When are you leaving?" He asked uncertainly, and she glanced at him out of the corner of her eye.

"In a few days. I am to be accompanied by your uncle's troops and I must wait for his order."

The boy nodded, tense.

"May I also visit you tomorrow? To speak with you." He asked without looking at her, filled with shame, and she nodded.

Her nephew said a polite goodbye and left her chamber, leaving her in a state of confusion.

Indeed, he came to see her the next day and every day after, clearly in a better mood.

He walked around her chamber, asking her many questions.

"Have you ever seen a dragon up close?"

"No, my Prince."

"You don't have to call me that. You are my aunt."

Her lips twitched in a mocking smile at his words.

"Very well."

"Why have you never married anyone?"

"A bastard-wife is a burden. Unless it's your sister." She replied with amusement, and he gave her a drawn-out look.

Something in her words made him uncomfortable.

"You think you're going to be a burden to your betrothed? I don't think she pays attention to that sort of thing. She seems to be a strong woman." She said softly, and he swallowed hard, looking down at his feet.

"She is. She has an overwhelmingly strong character. I'm not able to…keep up. I get tired of how fast she lives, how many things she wants." He confessed with shame, once again exposing his oversensitive, fragile nature to her.

"Sometimes people just don't fit together."

He looked at her and furrowed his brow, as if he didn't understand what she had said.

"What do you mean?"

She sighed heavily, looking away, spreading herself comfortably in the chair. She smiled involuntarily when she noticed that, despite his efforts, his gaze escaped for a moment to her full, soft breasts, hidden only beneath the material of her thin gown.

"It is impossible to change human nature. Not at its core. You can be different, but marriage, it seems to me, is about complementing each other."

He lifted his gaze back to her eyes, his lips parted as if he had run out of words. He nodded his head and grunted, walking uncertainly over to the table, sitting down in one of the chairs. He began to play with his fingers, as if he was fighting with himself.

"I don't know what I could do to change. To be what everyone expects me to be.’

"Stop killing yourself."

He looked at her and she shook her head, furrowing her brow.

"What?"

"You're killing your sensitivity. Your calmness, your thoughtfulness. Your warm nature, which is the reason for your shame. You want to be like your uncle, but you're not. Maturity is about taking responsibility for your decisions, and you are running away from it. You become a man when you confront your desires."

Prince Jacaerys seemed completely surprised by her words, simultaneously distressed and filled with hope. He lowered his gaze, looking down at his fingers, silent for a long moment.

"Fly with me to Dragonstone."

She looked at him in disbelief, for a moment not knowing what to say, shocked.

This boy completely lost his mind.

"I don't follow." She confessed.

Her nephew looked at her with a gleam in his eye, from which she felt a squeeze in her lower abdomen.

"Fly with me to Dragonstone. You are my blood. I do not want you to be the servant of a lord who will be able to use you and…" He did not finish, his cheeks red with shame.

Something in his words, in the fact that he was concerned about her fate and welfare, touched her.

She thought this boy had a really good heart.

"Your sister has ordered me to set out for the Eyrie."

"My sister wishes you to disappear from Harrenhal. I desire you to accompany me on my journey back to Dragonstone."

She laughed at his words.

"Who will I be there? Your whore?"

The boy furrowed his brow, looking at her in shock.

"My aunt."

Her smile vanished from her face, her brow furrowed in anger.

"Truly you are still a little child."

"I want this."

"You don't know what you want. Who I am."

"You are just like me. Abandoned. Alone. Marked. Without purpose, without a chance to have the dignity you deserve. I seem to have finally understood my sister. What she and my uncle have in common. I felt something immediately when I saw you for the first time. I'm not speaking of lust − I'm speaking of a feeling that I've never before met a person who could accept me as I am. Some part of me believes that I was destined to meet you."

He whispered, as if he was referring to something he was ashamed of, desperate and embarrassed, his bright eyes full of hot emotion that frightened her, overwhelmed her and moved her at the same time.

Only then did she understand.

A stone fortress reaching up to the sky, with the sound of water all around it.

The dragon on whose back she flew, which she had never seen before.

Her destiny had come for her.

224 notes · View notes