#there should be more rouge content

[tonycries]

Something Stupid - G.S.

Synopsis. Five times the strongest would rather díe than tell you he loves you, and the one time he almost does. Almost.

Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, friends-to-lóvers, canon fix-it, PINING, dry-húmping, face-sítting (fem receiving), creampíe, overstím, PÚSSYDRUNK GOJO, ríding him until he whínes, no smút until they’re adults obvs, slight ángst, manga spoilers, found family, THE HAPPY ENDING WE DESERVE, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 9.6k

A/N. Tumby lemme post this pwease? What canon? This is the only canon I know.

“Catch me if you-”

Sixteen-year-old Gojo Satoru doesn’t have the privilege of finishing his sentence - hell, he doesn’t even have the privilege of standing, apparently.

Because in the blink of an eye, his back is hitting the soft grass of Jujutsu Tech, followed very shortly by a bewildered you. Foreheads knocking together, your hands grabbing at his broad shoulders, his own wrapping around your waist for some sense of stability.

Years later, Gojo tells everyone that would listen - and anyone that won’t - that life became just a bit brighter ever since you crashed into his life that day - literally. 

But right now, he’s opening his mouth to spit an irritated, “Watch it!”

It’s the first words you ever say to him, a shrill - almost hysterical - “Huh? No, you watch it-”

“Nuh uh, you-” Head spinning, shades skewed, it takes Gojo a few seconds to screw his bleary eyes open to the sudden newcomer straddled on top of him. And a few more to register that no, he wasn’t in heaven and hey, that uniform looks familiar. And, unfortunately, not even a split-second longer to breathe out something stupid, “I…I think I love y-”

“You stupid, moronic- wait what?”

The next few words out of his mouth are just as bad as the last ones, if not worse. Because yes he knows - for once in his life - that maybe he should just stop talking. He knows that even a moment longer with you is gonna turn his mind into more of a melty, honeyed mess than Six Eyes ever could. 

Which is exactly what he blames when jumbling out a garbled, “Dinner tomorrow?” Wincing, Gojo swallows them back almost as quickly as he wished he was swallowed up by Geto’s rainbow dragon instead. 

To your credit, you look a lot less bumbling than the strongest currently pinned underneath you. That look of annoyance on your pretty features melts into something of concern. And before he can dig a deeper hole for himself, you’re raising the back of your hand to splay out across his forehead.

“I didn’t think you hit the ground that hard but-” you raise a brow, head tilting to the side. “-I think you’ve got a concussion.”

Oh, yeah he’s definitely in heaven - that or actually concussed. Maybe both.

A low whistle sounds from his right - and soon enough he’s staring at the shoes of the other first-year he’d met just today. Low bangs hanging over his face, jostling with light cackles, “Haven’t they told you not to confess your undying love until at least the second date, Gojo?”

Nevermind, he was in hell.

“Ieri!” Geto turns towards the other girl, who was busy typing away on her phone. But Gojo could’ve sworn he heard the shutter of a camera coming from her way. “He was flown out of bounds, that’s gotta count as one point for me, right? And another for the pretty girl. You keepin’ score?”

She only sighs, “No.”

What’s a first day at high school without a duel between two of the proudly self-proclaimed strongest? And, of course, you - the fourth addition to their little group, hastily scrambling off of Gojo’s lap at the jeering laughter from above. 

Dammit. 

Later, he might apologize for running headfirst into you - might. Ignoring the pointed giggles, and the burning rouge at the very tip of his ears, to find out your name. And to make up some stilted excuse about how that was completely the concussion talking and he totally wasn’t serious about having dinner so please, please, please don’t snitch to Yaga about the impromptu matches taking place on school grounds…unless? 

But for now, Gojo’s only lazily turning to look up at Geto, bringing a hand up to squint against the harsh sun beating down. Or, at least, that’s what it was meant to look like - “Technique amplification: Blue!”

He only hopes the property damage isn’t as high as what his poor heart had just gone through. Detention with Yaga be damned - and if by some grace of the universe he actually does end up escaping before he’s caught then, well, he’ll actually ask you out to dinner tomorrow. 

---

Gojo Satoru is almost eighteen when he thinks that not even the Gojo family’s most expensive insurance will cover whatever curse you’ve casted on his poor heart.

You’re both well into the second year, and by now he’d been to twelve different doctors, five shamans, and Principal Yaga himself before Geto smacked him upside the head. 

“Satoru, you complete imbecile-”

“Hey!” He fights out of his best friend’s grasp around the scruff of his uniform, crossing his arms over his chest with a whine, “I’ll have you know that I got the highest exam score last week, and I cheated only a little bit-”

Geto cuts him off with a sigh, wearily pinching the bridge of his nose, “No- you idiot. What do you mean you went to Yaga to girl-talk with him about your crush.” And when Gojo’s mouth falls slack, he’s smirking, “Oh- my bad, I meant your love-”

It’s said that Gojo’s gasp echoed all throughout the wooden corridors of the school - maybe even the entire grounds. Hotly, he’s sputtering out broken little excuses, “I don’t- what do you-” Before turning away to cool the burning of his sweetly rosy cheeks, “You’re the imbecile for spewing out such nonsense, Suguru.”

“Are you sure?” Geto turns to get a better look at the way those pretentiously expensive glasses fail to cover even the half of it. He’s never been able to, when it comes to you. “Because that’s quite literally the first thing you said to her-”

“I had a concussion!”

“After she touched you?” 

And for perhaps the first time in the years he’s been wreaking havoc on Earth, Gojo is speechless. A welcome change for Geto, who mulls over in the silence while they loiter - very much missing whatever mission was assigned right now. 

“I…” he starts, voice small. Pathetic, even. “...was concussed.” And before Geto can let out the same frustrated, dragged-out groan he often does whenever he’s around the two of you, Gojo’s plowing on, “But if I did lo- like her - hypothetically speaking - how would I even tell her?”

Usually, the other’s first reaction would be to tease his best friend. But at this moment he sounded so…young, painfully sincere in a way that was so disgustingly un-Gojo-like that he can’t help but cringe.

“Well, Satoru.” he muses, throwing a hand around his shoulder. “You just gotta…tell her my man. Preferably before that big mission coming up because I am not dragging your moping self around.”

He rolls his eyes, scoffing, “Gee, thanks. I’ll totally get on that tomorrow.”

“You’re welcome.”

BANG!

Yaga’s voice bellows, “Can you two stop doing this outside my office!”

And as much as Gojo hates to admit it, Geto was right - he usually was. 

Well - perhaps not about the love part, but subconsciously, he found himself seeking out every tiny moment with you. Every second by your side - ignoring the other two bothers - was a new opportunity to just tell you. To break that thick solitude inside your little bubble with those little words. Ones that would go and spoil it all. 

Not to be dramatic, but Gojo almost made a game out of it. Mouthing out the words whenever your back was turned - it started from “Dinner tomorrow?” to “I like you.” to something stupid that only gave Shoko aneurysms. 

And, expectedly, “tomorrow” doesn’t happen to be tomorrow. 

Tomorrow isn’t in your next class, or whatever mission Gojo tags along with you for “moral support.” Tomorrow isn’t the cozy little detention the two of you attend after catching Yaga’s interpretive dance routine - “that’s the scariest thing I’ve ever seen- even more than any curse.” you whisper fearfully to him, and he thinks he might just blurt it out right then and there.

Tomorrow isn’t when he’s just about to leave on some confidential mission with Geto, bidding you goodbye with a roll of his eyes and a hug he pretends he doesn’t like as much as he actually does. Tomorrow isn’t even when he’s baking in Okinawan sun, or strewn out bloodied and left for dead on the very grounds he met you on. 

But oh how he wishes it was.

In that moment, incapacitated by Toji Fushiguro, and wondering where it went wrong, he thinks of you. Gojo thinks he’ll always remember you in every moment, and especially when they’re his last.

The Star Plasma Vessel mission and its aftermath takes up most of his mind afterward, even when he didn’t want it to. And all he can remember about tomorrow comes only a few months later, when an ashen-faced Gojo Satoru slams open the rickety door to your dorm.

“G-Gojo?” you sputter, sitting up in your bed. But before you can even think of reaching him, he’s crossed your floor in a few long strides. “Are you ok- mmpf!”

In an instant, he’s splaying out on your mattress, legs dangling off the end, strong arms wrapped tightly around your waist. 

Your first instinct is to snap something snarky - but every tease at the very tip of your tongue vanishes when he buries his head into your lap. And you feel something wet, something drench though your skirt heatedly. 

“Is…” you’re gulping thickly. “Is everything okay, Satoru?”

Ah, his name sounds too perfect on your tongue. 

“Suguru…” Is all he shudders out wetly, jittery hands looping even more vice-like around your figure. “He-”

It’s just about the only thing he can get out, and it’s just about everything you need to hear before bringing his shivering body closer. Quiet. Steady. Rocking the strongest gently, while you hum a wordless melody. “S’alright. S’gonna be okay.”

Now, he thinks. Now now now now - tell her. Tell her. But when a tear of your own stains his shirt, he knows. Hauling you in even deeper to his chest, he prays you don’t hear his thundering heart. Perhaps tomorrow. 

---

Gojo is twenty-one by the time he’s dragging you hand-in-loveable-hand through the winding hallways of an apartment in the heart of Tokyo. Mumbling excited little mutters, and almost tripping over his own feet with how fast he was navigating the corridors. 

“Sato- S-Sato-” you’re squealing out, grimacing at the tugging burn of your hands in his. “Toru! Where are you- taking me?” 

Sheepishly, he looks at you over his shoulder, “Whoops, did I forget to tell you- I have kids!”

He doesn’t know what’s louder - your shocked shout of “What? When?...By who?” or the screeching of his own two shoes skidding to a halt in front of that familiar door. 

“Well, they’re not mine.” Gojo sighs ultimately, with a hand at the door. And that makes you quieten down just enough to hear his barely-audible little whisper. Determined. Reverent, almost. “But they’re mine.”

And when he finally opens the door, just one look at the tiny, black-haired little boy and his sharp scowl is all you need to understand. You’re whirling your eyes back to his beaming gaze, oh, Satoru.

Only mere moments later the two of you - accompanied by a very begrudging Megumi, and his sister - sit by the booth of one of your favorite cafés. Embarrassingly, he finds himself sighing while watching you crack jokes with the little girl. Turning to the server to order for her - it almost felt like a little family. Oh you’d make such a perfect mother. A completely objective observation, of course. Completely. Unless- 

“You’ll never do it.” a tug on his sleeve has him facing Megumi’s leveled stare. How the hell does a kid manage to look like he’s seen the monstrosities of the world already? Gojo blames the father.

Baring his teeth, “The hell’s that supposed to mean?”

Little did he know that all it took was watching him seethe whenever the waiter by your side was just a bit too talkative, a bit too lingering with his gaze. In his little reverie, Gojo had accidentally croaked out a low, “I-” before you’d turned those pretty eyes his way, only to choke back embarrassingly on every syllable. Gesturing at you to ignore his little mishap. 

“Tell her, I mean.” Megumi hums. Taking a wizened sip of his milkshake, “She’ll date that waiter before you if you don’t tell her.”

“That’s so…so stupid.” Gojo whispers back hotly. “I will tell her.”

“Will not.”

“Will too.”

“Will not.”

“Will-” 

“Boys!” Your scolding tone makes them both jump - mainly Gojo, however, caught off-guard. Who scratches behind his neck when you wag a finger admonishingly, “Stop arguing, we’re in public. Now, as for payment-” Before turning back politely to the waiter.

“See?” Megumi counters, back to appraising the last of his cupcake. “You’re such a loser.”

Gojo’s gaze, however, stray back your way, as he found them often doing these days. Only to find them already on him, scrunched into crescents with a smile and twinkling so bright that he could almost catch his idiotic gawking in them. 

Very pointedly he ignores the knowing roll of Megumi’s eyes, the exact type he’s seen too much with Shoko, and Nanami, and Utahime, and Yaga - and every single being to come into contact with his almost-tangibly hopeless feelings for you.

Instead, slamming that shiny new black card of his down in front of him - with enough fervor that the tabletop jostles, and you jolt out of your conversation with the waiter. 

“I’ll be the one paying for myself, and my two kids and-” His burning eyes drink in every shred of surprise on your features. “-my wife.”

Somewhere in the distance, Gojo can hear Tsumiki giggle, and Megumi smack a hand onto his forehead. But right now he’s too busy remembering the exact degree to which your lips curl up, the way you hold back a laugh at the waiter’s jaw dropping. Nevermind the fact that the two of you were way too young to have two kids of this age. 

“He was getting a bit pushy.” you’d conspire afterwards, now completely full and fatigued after a long day. “Thanks for that, Toru.”

Gojo sighs, flashing you a megawatt grin. If there were ever a time he thanks his Six Eyes for being able to memorize every little detail - every little feature in this picture - then it would be right now. He’s reveling in the bittersweet perfection. Yeah, he thinks, holding up a sleepy Megumi in his arms, maybe tomorrow.

---

There’s actually been about sixty different times over the years that Gojo knows you’d wanted to punch him straight in his face - and he’s sure, at the age of twenty-seven, that this is the very latest one. 

“How did you get hit, don’t you have limitless?”

He shoots a wink your way, “Maybe I wanted you to patch me up?”

You scoff, “You stupid, moronic-”

“-no-brained, glasses-wearing dumbass.” he finishes for you, flashing you a cocky smirk that wouldn’t have been endearing for anyone but him. Gojo makes himself more comfortable on the hard infirmary bed, “You know, you’ve really got to update your list of insults, sweetheart. I don’t even wear the shades that much anymore.”

It was new - as soon as you’d cackled at the idea of him being a teacher with perpetual sunglasses, he’d wrapped that blindfold around his head. It was a slight shame, frankly, he was always honest with his eyes - but what was more important was that change.

Sweetheart.

Sometime after you’d intertwined seamlessly into Gojo’s mishmashed little family, he’d taken to calling you syrupy sweet nicknames. It’d started out as a joke, you think - with “sugarplum” and “honeybuckets” and whatever grocery item he could think of, before turning into something very, very real. 

Though, they still made poor Megumi grimace in disgust just the same.

“Zoning out on me, babygirl?” 

Yeah, sometimes they made you grimace in disgust, too. 

“No-” you’re rolling your eyes, putting a little bit more force than necessary when you dab the warm napkin at those tiny specks of blood on his lip. “Just hoping you’d shut up.”

Gojo hisses, eyes crinkling at the edges - and you can’t help but think of how much older he looked than the disgruntled sixteen-year-old that swore at you on your first day. 

“What?” his snowy brows raise, catching the hints of your laughter. 

You take a moment longer to bask in the memories, before sighing. “Nothing. Just thinking about when we first met, s’been ten years already, hasn’t it?”

Of course, it has - it’s not like something the great Gojo Satoru could ever even think about forgetting. He remembers it in every cheesy selfie from high school you show him, he remembers in each and every one of your laughs at his overused jokes - the same ones he’d cracked way back then. 

“It has.” he’s settling on after a few rare beats of silence. The thick white sheets on the bed rustle as he grasps your hand in his, “And I think I remember that today more than any other.”

It was impossible not to, when you’d just met your best friend after ten years. When you’d just killed your best friend with your own two hands.

Your pretty eyes shine with all the tears you’d been hiding, “Yeah? Guess so, huh?” Without warning, you bend down to meet your forehead with his, gulping back heavily. You knew he didn’t just want to be patched up, you knew better. And you knew that even the strongest gets lonely. Especially the strongest. Your voice is strained, quiet. “Do you think he’s happier now, Toru?”

Truthfully, Gojo doesn’t know. 

But he whispers anyway, “I think so.”

To soothe you - and himself - if anything.

His eyes burn, and he’s scrunching them shut. A lump forming in his throat, Gojo can feel his entire being just rattle with the sudden wonder whether you’d feel it just the same when - if - he dies. Would you ask if he’s happy, too? Thinking he did and had everything he wanted in this life - not knowing he’s searching for you in every one? This life, and the next, and each one after.

“Sweetheart.” Gojo mumbles, eyes widening when you’re raising your head to look back at him, as if he didn’t even expect the words to fall from his lips. His jaw clenches, eyes flitting between your eyes and your lips like the rest of it was just threatening to wrench from his throat. “He- Suguru. Back in high school - before he…left- he told me-” 

“Gojo sensei, where is the- Oh!”

The two of you jump apart as if it burned, and for Gojo, the angry split on his lower lip hurts infinitely less than losing your touch. Holding back a silent whine, he turns towards the dark-haired boy fretting by the doorway, “Yuta? Something wrong?”

“Oh, you’ve done it, newbie.” Panda’s deep voice sounds from behind the doorway, and he peaks his large head in. “Gojo’s got his serious voice on, should’ve just spied silently like me. I told you not to interrupt him and his wife.”

“You’re married?!”

“We’re not married!”

“Tuna.”

The room erupts in far too many voices, and before long you’re clapping your hands in that strict teacherly manner that Gojo teases you always learned from Yaga himself. 

“Okay, that’s enough.” you call out, before turning to the newest first year. “Okkotsu, do you need help with anything? I’ll be right with you.” 

“I…I really didn’t mean to interrupt.” he’s bowing with apologies, ones that you only wave away with a chuckled-out, “It’s okay, Panda’s joking. We’re not married or anything anyway.”

And Gojo doesn’t know whether the look Yuta gives him is more akin to pity or understanding - he prefers it be neither, which is why he’s covering his head with the blanket. Groaning dramatically until you’re turning your attention back to him. 

You ruffle the amount of his hair peaking, and he has to screw his glassy eyes shut. “Toru, what is it that you wanted to say?”

“Don’t worry about it, it’s stupid.” His tone is unreadable, “I’ll tell you, hope- hopefully tomorrow.”

---

“Stay.”

“Sweetheart-”

“Stay.”

“Sweetheart.” 

You’re barely holding up the clingy mess that is a twenty-nine-year-old Gojo Satoru. Huffing and puffing in a way that makes his heart and his arms around you just squeeze, “It’s not an option. You know I have to do this.”

How he wished he didn’t.

How he wished he could grab your hand and run away from the fight with Sukuna, hide in the countryside of his hometown and build a new life with you.

It’s already been a hellish few weeks trying to get Gojo unsealed, and you can feel the last few months pounding at your temples. You let out a sigh, one that has him holding back a strangely giddy laugh. But before you can open your mouth to yell at him to not go - or more accurately, beg him until he doesn’t - there’s a tentative voice speaking up from behind you. 

“Um…sensei?” Yuji’s wide eyes sweep over his two teachers, being at Jujutsu Tech for a few months, he’s seen everything there is to see about the two of you. He saw the way you smacked the strongest when he got too mouthy, the way he let down limitless just so you could smack him. He saw the laughs, the looks, the way you’d flown into a frenzy when Gojo was sealed. 

Everyone saw.

It was like you were crazed, and right now, only a month after his return - you were gripping onto Gojo like he was the only thing keeping you anything but. 

So, it shouldn’t be new at this point. But he still can’t hold back the wonder in his voice, “I uh- wanted to ask about your robes for tomorrow- but maybe I can come back another time?”

“Yes yes, come back another time-”

“What robes?” 

You narrow your eyes at the man, and that sheepish little curl of his lips does everything but soothe your worries. He knew you saw right through him, you always did. 

Gojo’s exclaiming out loud, “Well- remember Toji-?” He waves his hands around, trying for a slightly softer way to say ‘the sorcerer killer and father of our honorary kid, who just-so-happens to be on a rampage right now’, before ultimately settling on, “-the worm guy? Well, I just figured I might as well take a page out of his book and dress like him, y’know since I’m fighting…Megumi after all.”

It takes a few seconds of stunned silence for you to find your voice, “You stupid-” 

“-moronic, no-brained, blindfold-wearing-”

“-dumbass! You remember what happened to him!” 

He bats his long, long lashes at you, “Why? Would you get this heated if I died just the same way he did?”

“No!” Your voice makes even Yuji flinch, which in turn has you reaching over to pat his head, “This is not on you, darling, of course. But your teacher here-” And it was comical, almost, the way the strongest stands up ramrod straight at just a leveled glare from you, “-will be getting it when he comes back from the fight.”

Comes back.

Oh, as much as Gojo throws his head back with chortles, he can’t help the way his heart twinges at the very thought of leaving you. 

And he can’t be sure of just how long.

“Ah, you talk too much, pretty. I’ll tell Megs how much you miss him.” You’re not given a second’s warning before you’re back in his embrace - more steady, this time. His arms securely around your waist, like they’d been twelve years ago and never wanted to leave since. Lips pressed up against the thundering pulse at your neck, Gojo’s voice dips just a bit lower than you’re used to. Breathing you in, “I will, too, y’know? Very much.”

Jittery, he could feel every slight tremor in your nervous fingers when you run them through his hair, dipping into the ends of his black blindfold. 

“Wh-what do you mean? S’only for a few hours, Toru.” you hum. “You better be back or so help me.”

“I know…” he heaves out, only pressing you close up against his broad frame. “But just in case- I-” Gojo’s voice cracks pathetically at the end, and he’s instantly too aware of Yuji’s keen eyes still watching. Edging up against the corner of the room like he wished he could have Gojo’s teleportation powers right about now. “-have something stupid to tell you. So I’ll hurry home anyways.”

You’re pulling back to quirk a brow, “Why not just tell me now?”

How he wished he could.

“Because it’s stupid.” 

Later, Gojo will find himself strewn across jujutsu hall with Yuji himself - the only one, other than you, he thinks, that can stand to be around a weapon like him right now. Listening to the hum of cursed energy in the air, he gets himself ready for the fight.

“Why didn’t you tell her? Especially now?” His student pipes up, suddenly, and Gojo remembers with a sigh just how uncomfortably in tune he is with everyone around him. Fearfully, so. “That you lov-”

“Because it’s stupid.” the older one grins. Such a sad, warmly smile - and for perhaps the first time, Yuji thinks that Gojo Satoru looks his age. “And I don’t think she’d want to hear it if I don’t make it to tomorrow.”

---

“Stupid.” you mutter, biting angrily at your nails. Hot tears burn behind your closed lids, and you can’t help but tighten your hand even more around his cold, cold ones. Limp. Like death. “You’re so, so stupid.”

There’s no response. No sing-song voice finishing off your insults, no large and ruffling your hair until you have to bat him away. 

Gojo Satoru was deathly still. 

Laid out on the cold mattress of his room, you’d bugged Shoko enough to let you move him here, knowing how much he hated the infirmary. 

“Being so reckless- having Yuta use your body-” in your fit of anger, you’re whirling your head up. Only for the pang of regret and grief to hit you tenfold all over again - because like this, he was too statuesque. A pretty mask of pale, what you’d give to have those eyes wink at you once more. “-if- when you wake up, I’m gonna kill you all over again.”

They told you he was dead - there was no point in waiting. In fact, you were sure there was a grave dug already, it was just a matter of how soon they could get to you. 

It was a strange thing, to be loved just enough to get a burial. In the end, it was lonely.

And so stupid. 

And at times, you felt that way, too. But all it took was one visit to where Geto’s grave was, a few long hours sat by his side, and you knew you couldn’t let Gojo escape you that easily. Not after everything, not after what he hasn’t told you, yet.

“Just wake up.” you sigh, the defeat bleeding into your every word. You run your thumb over the pronounced knuckles on his hand, calloused and scarred from his fight. “There’s so much to hear about. Higuruma’s alive, Nobara’s alive, pulling off that eyepatch. Like father, like daughter, huh? And Megumi- I saw Megumi laugh today. Yuji, too.”

Silence. Only stone-cold silence. He didn’t even move - not even the barest twitch of a finger.

“I just need you to wake up.” Your words are tumbling out a mile a minute, distantly, you wonder whether this was how Gojo felt when he first met you. How he couldn’t stop talking. Couldn’t stop wanting. “Shoko’s mad at you, y’know? But I know she misses you, no matter how much she pretends not to. I know that Jujutsu Tech can’t go any longer without Yaga, we- I need you. Didn’t even get to tell you-” 

It’s all croaked out into a deafening silence, at least if you were in the hospital room then maybe the pinging of the heart monitor might’ve accompanied you. But they’d pulled him off that, too. 

Unmistakable. 

“And I know that I…” You bury your face into the now-damp blankets, “I love you.”

“And I love you.”

There’s only the split-second you take to snap your head up before lips are crashing onto yours - plump, slightly-chapped but something so sweetly Satoru. Before you can even think about kissing back, however, he’s pulling away. 

Only to press hasty, chaste pecks again. And again. And again and again and-

Gojo kisses your wet eyelids, “I love you.” Your forehead, your cheeks, the corners of your lips. “I love you I love you I love you- and you beat me to it.” Those strained little words strike your very core - because it’s unmistakably Gojo. Sounding anything but, they’re broken and wrenching painfully out of his wracking chest. “So I just- I just had to-” Big, strong arms wrap around your middle - when did they even get there? It pangs somewhere in your hazy mind that you’re basically hoisted up on Gojo’s bed now, “-to do exactly what I’ve been wanting to since we were like this, thirteen years ago. Everything I’ve ever hoped for.”

“Everything?” you whisper.

“Everything. Even the strongest has dreams, y’know?” And he flashes you that smile you’ve missed so much, one you don’t think you’ve quite seen in years. “Even something stupid like ‘I love you.’”

That makes you cautiously glide over your palms onto the planes of his muscled chest, lightly pushing away to take in all of him. 

It was him. Alive. 

Really alive.

“Gojo…” you whimper, tears welling up behind your eyelids all over again.

“Ouch. Really?”

“Satoru.”

“Hmmm…”

“Toru.”

“That’s more like it.” The circled warmth around your waist crashes you even closer onto every ridge and divot of his hard chest, into the sweetest embrace - the kind you really couldn’t be mad about after your best friend had almost left you forever. “Told ya I’d come back, sweetheart.”

You could practically hear the sunshiney smile in his words, and his entire hulking body shook with emotion. 

“You’re back.” you breathe, dancing your arms upwards to wrap around his neck. “You’re here.” It takes only a second longer of being in his burning proximity, to catch that pearly white smile - tired, and infinitely harder than before - to have some semblance of rationality dipping into your mind. “-and- and we have to tell everyone!” you’re yelping. Moving to scramble off of his lap, “Oh- fuck, and they thought I was crazy. We have to- have to have Shoko give you a check-up and have Kusakabe finally ditch those funeral plans and-” 

You’re being shut up by Gojo’s lips on yours again, slow and sensual. It’s deeper this time, and he’s taking the time to part those candied lips of yours, sucking gently on the very tip of your hot tongue. 

“My funeral is the last thing I wanna think about right now.” he chuckles against your lips.

“But-”

“Tomorrow.” Gojo soothes, craning his weary neck to kiss your forehead. “We can do all that tomorrow. But right now, I just want to spend time with the love of my life.” His cerulean eyes just gleam with unshed tears and even more unspoken words, “Doesn’t have to be forever. Just right now.”

As promised, he’s petting up and down your body lazily. Kissing you until even smiling felt bruised and raw. But it’s only when the air grows thick, when the slight jostle of your body on top of his becomes hot, his own skin burning soon after that Gojo lets out a sullen hiss. 

“Toru-” you pull away panickedly, delicate strings of saliva snapping in the nonexistent air between you two. “We should really-”

“No- no no no no. Please wait-” Hastily, he’s bringing down a jittery hand to his hip, the buzz of reversed curse technique flowing through his thrumming veins. Meeting your uncertain gaze, “I’ve waited so long. Wontcha just let me worship you right now?”

As if to prove his point, he’s bucking upwards ever-so-slightly. The momentum teetering you precariously on his lap, dragging the heated core between your legs down in such a sloppy drag.

You’re gasping when the very outer edges of your panties rub up against something so hard, and rotund. Feeling the wet squelch of his angry tip gush out in a dripping wet wave at the friction. “A-are you sure?” you’re stammering, trying to hold back the way your greedy thighs were trying to rub together. Only achieving heavy, languid gyrations on top of the rock-hard outline of Gojo’s cock. “How about tomorrow? When you’re feeling better?”

It’s a slow, steady rhythm. There’s a ringing schwf! schwf! schwf! of sopping wet fabric, and it was driving him crazy. 

“Right now please- haaa-” Gojo’s tongue lolls out so sluttily to graze against your own, dazed blue irises rolling to the back of his head. His spine curves upwards, abs rippling with a harsh drag of your clothed pussy down his weepy shaft. “Whenever you’d have me.”

Almost tentatively, your hips roll forward. That flimsy excuse of your panties bunching up with each grazing rub, it’s all you can do to not just keen at the utterly delicious curve of his thick girth. Throbbing and twitchy under each of your motions. 

He’s hissing when your underwear snags on the very divot at his thick head, sitting up on two elbows, “S-sweetheart.”

“No, Toru.” your palms are back on his pecs, easily pinning the strongest down with a gentle push of your own. “Jus’ let me do all the work, m’kay?”

Gojo wasn’t all too happy - and the sullen pout jutting on his spit-glossed lips told you more than enough. But he wasn’t going down without a fight - that was for sure. 

“F-fine.” he grunts at a particularly harsh grind of your hips. Fuck, he felt like some animal, humping up into you like he was out of control. He could practically feel your puffed-up pussy lips through his pants, he could almost taste it. Two rough hands come to rest on your hips, grabbing and kneading a handful of your ass. “But then you’re not just hah- sitting there, pretty.” 

And, shit, even like this, you should’ve known better than to underestimate Gojo Satoru himself. Because whatever he wanted, he got. The one thing he didn’t was you - and now, since he had you, too, fuck- he might just be going insane. 

Not a moment’s wasted before you’re being so easily hauled up, up, up the entire expanse of Gojo’s body. Jittery body being balanced easily as if you were some type of toy, up from the slender curve of his toned hips, up around where his broad deltoids were spread, all the way until your cunt was hovering over his needy mouth. “Can’t believe I hngh- almost died without havin’ a taste of this pretty pussy.”

“Toru.”

“Sweetheart.” he mocks.

You shiver with each feverish puff of hot breath blown right onto your clothed cunt. And even more so when you’re feeling such a long, slender finger slide in through the translucent fabric. 

Fuck, Gojo swallows thickly, bunching up your skirt. You were so sopping wet he could almost see the outline of his index through your panties. He slides the back of it slowly up and down. Heavy balls squeezing painfully at the volume of your saturated slick collecting on his digit, just trailing glossily down to his deft wrist. 

Mesmerized, your jaw falls slack at the sight down below of Gojo - cloudy hair mussed, cheeks all pink and burning a blushing rouge, tongue darting out to catch each stray drop of your sweet sweet juices. Drip! Drip! Drip! 

“Oh- sh-shiiit-” he rasps, lowly, mulling over your honeyed taste. Sounding so awed, breath hitching when Gojo tugs your panties just enough to the side to catch a mere glimpse of your messy cunt. Glistening and winking down lewdly at him. “S’jus’ you n’ me right now, huh?”

You don’t know who exactly he’s talking to - and you don’t get to find out, because that’s all it takes for Gojo’s kiss-bitten lips to clash messily against your cunt - panties and all. 

A soft swipe of his tongue glides the fabric to the side, so depraved, so needy that for that split-second he’s tasting you, he can’t even think of removing it. One taste of your sweetened pussy and he can’t even bear the thought of breaking apart, licking up in long, languid stripes that wet the very front of your swollen folds. 

Just the taste of you had him palming desperately at the tent in his pants, rubbing up and down at a pace that matched his rummaging tongue.

The very edge of your tastebuds rub so deliciously in teasing circles around the corners of your dripping silt, your inner thighs. 

“S-s’toru-” you’re letting out such throaty, dragged-out groans that send every drop of blood in Gojo’s body thumping to his achy cock. “Don’t be such a- a tease.”

You’re locking your glassy eyes with him and he feels like he could pass out. Groaning and smacking into your cunt, “Tell me- fuck fuck fuck- tell me what you want, sweetheart. Anything.” Your entire body arches into his hot mouth like such a slut, when he bullies between your folds. Barely flicking against the sensitive nub of your clit. “Everything. Anything for you.”  

When you’re weaving your fingers deliriously through his silky soft strands, he babbles, “Oh fuck- yeah, pull on my hair.” One of his hands come down to grip onto your panties, pulling the fabric so that you revel in the filthy friction. “Use me while you ride m’face, okay?”

With that, his mouth is sagging open even further letting your thighs straddle the entirety of his face so easily. So close. So messy how he was carding his tongue from the very base of your pussy, up into your quivering entrance.

“Fuck–” you’re whining, grinding into his touch when he wraps his soft lips around your clit. Barely even easing you with syrupy, wet circles of his heated tongue before sucking. Harsh. Depraved. But so, so him. “Don’- don’ stop, feels too good–!”

You didn’t know if he heard you, fuck you didn’t even know if Gojo was even breathing. 

Even if he wanted to stop - he didn’t think he could. Because he was so ravenous between your legs, forcing your pliant body into such smooth gyrations on his tongue. Silken, soft, such sultry licks of his tongue on your clit. 

Electricity sparks behind your eyes when with a wet slurp! he smacks away from your pretty pussy, “You think- you think I can stop?” And he sounds so genuinely in disbelief, as if the very thought of it was appalling. Through heavy, lingering kisses and sucks onto your clit, Gojo’s managing to get out, “I can’t have enough. Fuck- please.” The very rounded pads of his fingers dig so bruisingly into the flesh of your ass, jiggling and kneading with every drag of your hips. He’s begging at this point, “Fuck yourself on my face. Rougher, faster, c’mon now. You can do it, my sweetheart.” 

He was so fucking desperate, big fat tears almost welling in his eyes while he whined underneath you. Groping so obscenely at his sweltering hot erection. How could you not listen?

“If you say so.”

Using the vice-like grip on his locks, you’re managing to leverage your motions even deeper. Rougher, like he’d wanted. Every protesting creak of the bedpost was accompanied by a synchronized whimpering of ah! ah! ah! coming from both your mouths. 

“S’it good?” he gasps, and all you could see was the flushed upper half of his features. And the lower half - fuck, though the peaks and cracks you could make out just how glisteningly wet it was with all of your messy cunt. His lips were just drenched, slick-soaked mouth making out harshly with your pussy through your panties. Trailing all the way down in a glossy sheen over the lower half of his face, dripping off his chin, fuck- up to his cheekbones- 

As if that wasn’t enough, the massive palm resting at your thigh comes dancing down to tease around your sopping wet entrance. 

If you were in the right state of mind, you could’ve sworn that you heard a sharp rip! coming from that poor tattered fabric of your underwear right then and there. 

“Tell me- fuck fuck fuck- use that pretty voice of yours please.” Still suckling lewdly on your clit, his cheeks hollow out . Entire body just jolting upwards, forcing you to press down harder with your motions. “Use me. Use me.”

“S-so–” you mewl when his slender fingers bully easily past that first ring of muscle. So many cold inches of his digits, feeling around determinedly inside your heated, gummy walls for those sweet spots that will make you whine. “So loud, Toru-” you’re spitting, meshing his mouth even harder with yours down below. And you can practically feel him smirk against your cunt. “For someone that wants this s-so hngh! bad you sure are-”

There.

Right there.

Gojo Satoru had just crashed into the spongy cavern of your g-spot - easily, at that. And there was such a crazed, sloppy sting to each of his movements. Smashing in over and over-

“Heh…tha’s how I l-like it.” he’s spying up at your trembly thighs, the way his overworked lips were being coated with a fresh wave of our honeyed slick with each passing second. “Good girl- gooood fuckin’ girl–” 

Hazily, you’re wondering whether it doesn’t hurt. Whether his weepy cock ached just as badly as it looked, how his tongue isn’t fucking cramping up by now. 

But he goes on - like he couldn’t stop, like he was out of control. A greedy little push and pull, dragging his tongue all over until you saw flashes of white. Until you could only scream out his name like a mantra. Until you were cumming. 

“Fuck- fuck fuck fuck- Toru!” your slurring out a mile a minute. Both of your hands now steadfast on his head, riding out your high all over Gojo’s pretty, pretty face. And he let you - fuck, he let you. “M’cumming- shit, feel so good. M’cumming-”

So good, so filthy that it made your toes curl, your hips stutter sloppily. Arching like such a slut, you could barely even see properly. Your breath was coming out in such labored heaves at this point, and Gojo wasn’t any better. 

It was like he couldn’t stop, happily drinking up every single, sticky drop your cunt had to offer. Pussydrunken eyes drooping shut, unable to let out anything but satisfied grunts. The muscle of his tongue is just frenzied in eager slips and slides along your cunt - absolutely no rhythm or method right now. Sucking, licking, biting anywhere he could possibly reach. 

“F-fuck–” you’re crying out tearily once the very peak of your orgasm fades, and all that’s left are a few overstimulated tingles being wrenched out by a greedy Gojo. “Toru, m’done.” You tug desperately on his hair - but even that doesn’t bate him the slightest bit. “S’getting too much- fuck-”

“Awww, too much for my girl?” he’s cooing, the words jumbling together in his drunken state. There’s a glossy mess of spit and slick drooling down the corners of his smirk. “Does this cute cunt of yours need a break?”

At your barely-lucid nod, it only grows wider. Smugger. “Too bad-” And Gojo’s just taunting you with a final, long lick up the very core of your pussy, “Because if I almost hah- died without her once, then you best believe m’gonna c-crawl back from death for ya each and every single time.”

It takes his strong arms - even bruised and battered through battle - only two whole seconds to plop you back down prettily onto his lap. Right over where his angry cock was just weeping for attention. And suddenly, it hurts without you. “So you’re not getting a break anytime soon. Maybe tomorrow.”

“Ha ha.” You’re rolling your eyes, “Very funny.”

“Mhm.” Gojo looks up at you through his white lashes, and you can only watch when he brings up his syrupy-sweet, glossy fingers up to his mouth. One by one. Sucking. Slowly, looking right into your eyes. It makes your mouth just salivate. “Got that right.”

The sheets billow behind you when you’re fumbling deftly with his shirt, all but ripping - tearing that stupid thing off of his form. Your skirt and top are soon to follow - his jaw clenches with the slight strain, leaving it in poor tatters on the floor.

“Shit- shit you’ve been-” his mouth just waters when your tits are released from your bra. Jiggling tantalizingly in his face in a way that makes him bury into it. “-been holding out on me.”

“Oh-” you let out, traitorously, at the first sight of each curve and divot along his milky sculpted body. Gojo Satoru was serious about dressing up like Toji, and no matter how much his t-shirt looked so sinfully painted on - actually seeing it was something else. “You’re so pretty, Toru.” You smooth your palms down his large shoulders, the faint scars between his pecs, his abs - that scar. Stark and large, Shoko had done her best work, but it still looked so painful. It must feel so, too, being sewn back together like some ragdoll. He catches the way your expression dampers - of course, he does. “Toru…”

Gojo winces when your fingers glide over that jagged scar. But if that was pain, then it was absolutely nothing compared to the pure, unadulterated fear when you abruptly pull your hands away. 

“S-sorry- I didn’t mean to-”

“No!” he cuts you off, wrapping his long fingers around your wrist. All but dragging it - right along with you - to his still-healing body. “Touch me. Hurts more when you don’t.”

You’re batting your lashes up at him in a way that makes his heart stutter, and his poor, angry cock twitch. “Hurts me when you lie.”

“M’not lying, see?” With a low nod of his head, he’s gesturing you to look down - where it was unmissable. 

Because straddled right in-between your pussy lips was Gojo’s erect cock - proud and so prominent, even through his pants. With the sheer girth bulging upwards you could feel your greedy pussy dampen over the cloth in anticipation. 

“Well…” He’s throwing his head back when you knead your palm over the very end of his print, “I can’t quite see-”

Gojo takes the hint - and you have to bite your lip from teasing that it was quite possibly the only hint you’d thrown his way that he’d actually understood. But it was so hard to - not when he was this eager. 

And, on those long, lonely nights, you’d imagined that your best friend would be suave, infinitely collected with things like this. 

But, no, he was fumbling and jittery with his movements. So needy to please you that it takes you to help him pull down his tight, sticky boxers over the curving muscle of his thighs. 

“O-oh fuck–” you breathe out, when he finally springs out. Sweeping up and down each and every long, thick inch of him - Gojo was as hard as if he was carved out of fucking diamond. Such a furious, rosy red at his leaky tip, glistening down, down, down into the most mouth-watering shade of creamy pink at his thick hilt. He was so big. Your thighs squeeze together in sultry need - with a slight tinge of fear. So unfairly pretty - even like this. “You’re- you’re so much bigger than I’d imagined, Toru.” 

No sooner are the words out of your mouth that you’re being flashed with his dark smirk once more, “You imagined this?” There’s a slight reverence to his voice, scared. 

It almost makes you shy - and Gojo can practically sense the waves of embarrassment rolling off of you. 

“Awww, come back to me, please, pretty- Please-” he purrs, cupping your cheeks. “I came hah- back, didn’t I?” You’re being jostled to and fro when he rests himself more comfortably on the bed, leaning back to admire you further. “And now-” Your breath hitches in your throat when he situates himself right in-between your thighs, the fat curve of his head so swelteringly kissing your folds. Drenching it in his thick precum, “-now m’never gonna let ya go.” 

Fuck, you know you should heave in a few gasps of hair, you know you should relax, maybe even stretch your legs wide open.

Because Gojo was so fucking big, it felt like he was splitting you from the inside out. Just the slight push of his tip bullying between your folds has you moaning - crying.  

“You- you’re so big-” Your nails dig into the plush of his pecs for stability, leaving neat crescent patterns that stand out redly. “S’like you’re reaching into my hngh- l-lungs-”

Just those words have him expanding even deeper, ruddying even more furiously. Gojo gets so much bigger that you just can’t help but sink yourself down his shaft, feeling your elastic walls contort so easily around his length. 

“H-heh– ohhh-” he breathes out - baritone voice lilting a few pitches higher than usual. The hands around your waist grab you even harsher, feeding you each inch by fucking inch of his fat, pulsing cock. “You got me- so–” His hips thrust upwards in mindless little jabs, “-fucked up, right now, sweetheart.”

And while all you can do is whine and moan around his unforgiving cock, Gojo babbles on, “B-better get ready ngh- because I’m gonna be riiiight-” His thick index draws and invisible line up, up, up to somewhere midway up your stomach. Before pressing down. Brandingly. “-here.”

The pressure is enough to have your hips just slamming down with a wet smack! all the way to his hilt. The slap of skin-on-skin rings through the heady air and into both your drunken brains, making him just throw his head back into the plush pillows. 

“Yes-” you’re keening, your fingers wrapping subconsciously around Gojo’s pretty throat to have him facing you once more. He was so gorgeous this way - blue eyes falling shut with pleasure, mouth bitten raw and parted into a soft oh! pale muscles twitching with each breath. So fucked-out already that it almost made you think the sight alone could have you cumming. “Look at me, Toru- hah- gonna make up for lost time, right? Gonna fuck me good?”

His answering nods are more than enough, but Gojo doesn’t just stop there - no, he’s putting in every bit of last strength he has to just hammer into you upwards. Meeting every one of your relentless bounces down on him, he just clashes into your ravaged g-spot.

“Oh yeah, my girl.” he spits, a twinkling trail of drool dripping down the side of his lips. Crushing you so tight to his hardened front, “Ride me- ride me jus’ like that. Fuck- thought I saw heaven on the battlefield but it might jus’ be this pussy-” Over and over.

The back of your hand ends up on his forehead, “I think you’ve got a concussion.” It was in every little touch - that “something stupid.”  

At your surprised giggles, he’s rummaging your insides even more ferociously. Smushing the very end of his thick head against your spongy cervix. It was so soft, so swelteringly hot having him inside you. Clashing in long, wet glides against every inch of your pussy. 

The stretch was dizzying - and if it hadn’t been for Gojo’s lips attacking yours, then you’d have let your head loll backwards. It’s like he was marking you from the inside out, bruising the plushy insides of your cunt to every ridge and thumping vein down his possessive cock. 

“Spit on me.” 

His sudden plea puffs out of his plump lips, startling you out of your cockdrunk little reverie. “Spit on me, please, pretty. Mmpf-”

Gojo whimpers - whimpers - when the thick wad of your saliva hits his pink tongue, and the action has him delving into you impossibly deeper. Planting two feet onto the mattress, he angles his hips into your tight channel even harsher. Grimacing at the slight twinge of pain, “Shit-”

“Toru–”

“Wait wait- please- let me-” Expectedly, he’s cutting you off frantically. Begging, pleading with everything he had before activating reversed curse technique more. “Wanna fuck this gorgeous cunt so bad- fuck fuck fuck-”

But you’re only grinding your hips down faster - all the way from the pretty pink tip of his cock, until your ass massages against his tight, cum-filled balls. Thwacking! against your skin deliciously, pushing you up to scratch your clit against his snowy pubes. 

A few more unapologetic kisses up against your sweet spots have you blinking back stars, “Toru–” Your swiveling motions have him so hypnotized, following every move where his massive cock was disappearing in and out of your snug hole. “Kiss me-”

Oh, you didn’t even have to ask.

It’s such a sloppy kiss - all teeth and lips and Gojo grunting gutturally into your mouth. Letting you just use him like your favorite toy, fucking him until the bed creaked with effort and Gojo’s balls just smacked! angrily.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he whispers. Drinking in your saccharine sweet gasps when he dips down one of his hands to your puffy clit, rolling the soft edge of his thumb in slow, methodical circles. “You’re gonna be the ah- d-death of me.”

Your hand around his throat tightens, making his eyes just roll back in ecstacy. “Better not die on me just y-yet, Toru. Not now, not tomorrow.”

For this, you’re being gifted with such a tight squeeze of his two fingers around your sensitive nub. Wracking your body forwards - exactly where he wanted you, exactly where he needed you to smash his sobbing tip into your g-spot. 

The stimulation is too much, and each of your pressurized slams down onto the sharp bones on Gojo’s v-line have him moaning. Bucking up helplessly whenever your heavenly walls drag sloppily up his shaft, like it hurt to not have each and every one of his heated inches buried inside. 

“Well- then-” You’re riding him now just as much as he was fucking up into you, leaving a damp puddle of slick and dredges of precum on the sheets below. Gojo’s punctuating each word with a harsh battering ram, “Better- cum f’me soon, huh? Because m’not gonna- fuck-” His nagging tip jolts into your sweet spots as if being zapped with white-hot electricity, in such a sloppy staccato with his feverish fingers. “-fuck I don’t think m’gonna last long.”

You’re nodding your head, clinging onto him like a second skin. “Mhm- m’so close, Toru.” Biting down wetly on his lower lip, “-gonna cum soon.”

Just the thought of it has him keening, stuttering up so messily. His precum coats your insides even more slippery slick, so heated in a way he thinks he might just explode. 

“I know, I know, sweetheart–” he’s simpering down in your tone, though his hips were anything but. Letting out some of the lewdest slurps that made your ears ring. “I got you. I got you, cum all over my cock, yeah?”

It only takes a few more mess strokes from both of your sweat-sheened bodies before you finally reach your high. Electricity thrums down your veins, your body arches so deeply into his. Bending into the perfect bow that has him spying down at your quivering folds, the way your gushing cunt expands and contracts through each and every one of your waves of pleasure. 

And he’s fucking you through it so filthy, fingers toying so erratically on your clit. Still reeling, still smashing the very divot of his cock into your bruised g-spot. Again and again.

“Ohh- fuuuck—” Gojo whines, eyes scrunching shut. Strained. Depraved. “Fuck fuck fuck me- please, please m’gonna-”

He doesn’t even get to finish his sentence before he’s stuffing your snug pussy full with ribbon after ribbon of thick, velvety cum. Potent seed coating your gummy walls in such a milky sweet gloss, the squelches from below are so loud. So soppingly wet. 

The hand at your waist moves down to where your poor cunt was just bulging with all inches of his spazzing cock. Gojo’s thumbing apart the corners of your slit just enough that his swelteringly hot cum oozes out of you in a slow trail. Sinful. 

“Oh my god-” he breathes, eyes unwavering. Hips thrusting upwards to push his cum up into you even deeper. It glistens opaquely down his length, forming a creamy ring at his thick base. “Oh my god love you- fuck!”

“Toru- m’so full-” you whine. A hand of yours coming up to press exactly where he had before, except now you could feel the nudging pace of his ruthless cock, the sloshing of Gojo’s seed all up inside you. “-really can feel you right here.”

“Tha’s the point, girl - my girl, should I say.” he’s pressing such a chaste kiss to your lips. And it would be swee - almost - if it wasn’t for the way Gojo’s greedy fingers soak themselves in the obscene mess from your cunt down below. Bringing them all the way up, up, up to his mouth. Suckling gently, “But…but you wanna hear something stupid?”

Your eyes widen, “Wh-what?”

And he only grins,  “I hope you know I love you, sweetheart. Because you sure as hell aren’t walking tomorrow.”

A/N. Can y’all tell I’ve been widowed not too long ago? Anyways, last post before kínktober! I tried posting this on Sunday but it refused to work so pray for me this time y’all *SOBS* <3

Plagiarism not authorized.

[leighsartworks216]

Kiss-Proof

Sylus x implied fem!Reader

Inspired by this fic by @peachlynnie

Also inspired by an Archie comic lol

Warnings: fluff, kissing, established relationship, lipstick, implied sexual content at the end

Word Count: 948

Main Masterlist

First Love and Deepspace Masterlist

Second Love and Deepspace Masterlist

AO3

Tag List Form (fill this out to be tagged in future fics)

How he got roped into this situation, he has no idea. Not that he's complaining. What could be better than his partner straddling his lap, kissing him over and over again?

You plant a kiss at a bare spot on his cheek without ceremony. You pull away, hopeful, only to deflate when the vibrant imprint of your lips are left behind. "Ugh, this one transfers, too." The tube of lipstick is tossed off to the side with the other failures.

Sylus grabs the makeup wipe from the previous attempts (almost completely covered in various shades of pink and red). His hand holds your jaw warmly, thumb on your chin, as his other thumb brushes the wipe over your lips.

He could suggest taking you shopping to the high end stores that would most certainly have lipstick proven not to smudge or transfer, but then you'd have to get up and stop testing it. His lips still have some red staining them, and his cheeks, neck and forehead are almost completely covered. He'd hate to stop now.

"How many more do you have to test?" he asks.

You shift in his lap, forcing him to stop his ministrations in favor of holding your hip to support you. You grab another lipstick tube from a pile andshift the remaining ones around. "Like, five more? At least one of these has to work."

He shifts his legs, settling you back into place, and draws your attention back to him so he can wipe away the last smidge of tint at the corners of your mouth. "If none of these work, I'll buy you some more," he promises. He nods slightly as he sets the wipe aside. "Go ahead, try this one."

You use a little compact mirror to help you get the shade on right. It's a warm red, bloody and tempting. It’s the same shade as his eyes after a couple glasses of Gin Fizz, when he looks at you with unbridled affection, enhanced with his slight intoxication.

Sylus would be the first to admit how much he loves watching this. He loves the comfort you have to propose this silly idea, to crawl into his lap with a bag of lipsticks and makeup wipes and the intensity of an executive making a pitch to a board room. He loves getting to watch the concentration on your face as you glide the applicator over your top lip, following the natural line to ensure it's perfect. Loves the mild frustration when you mess up the corner. Loves that you trust him to fix it with the wipe wrapped over his thumb nail. Loves the quiet thanks you mutter before you get back to work.

Fully applied, you hum impatiently as you turn the tube over to read the directions. "'Wait two minutes.' Damn."

"The best results take time," Sylus teases.

You shoot him a half-hearted glare. "Fine. What should we talk about for two minutes?"

He hums as he taps a finger on your hip. "I don't think I ever asked: Why are you so eager to find a lipstick that doesn't transfer?"

"Well," you wipe your thumb along his lip, dragging the lingering color with it, "it's embarrassing to drink from a glass and leave a big smudge behind."

He chuckles. "That's what's got you so worried, sweetie?"

You trace the rouge up to his prominent cupid's bow. "Mm, not completely." You wonder what he'd look like with lipstick on him properly. You're sure he'd look amazing. Hell, even like this, covered with all your kisses, he looks good. You're damn near convinced he can pull any look off.

He squeezes your sides. "Tell me," he implores, voice soft and tender.

You sigh. "When we go to auctions, I feel like I can't kiss you," you admit quietly. "Everyone there is so... imposing. I don't want to, well, do this to you," you gesture at all the lipstick stains, "and ruin your reputation."

"Sweetie." He cups your cheek in his large hand. It holds you perfectly, always. You lean into it without a second thought. He smiles. "My reputation isn't that fragile. Besides..."

His voice gets lower as he draws you in. You could get high on the way his eyes flicker to your mouth. His nose brushes yours, hot breath shared in the centimeters of space left between you.

"How else will they know who I belong to?"

Your breath hitches. His mouth is on yours, seeking, claiming, drawing you deeper into him. You feel the creamy texture of smudged lipstick as you hold his face, slide your fingers along his neck into his hair. It streaks along his perfect skin.

His tongue licks the seam of your lips, begs for entrance. You tug at his hair as you let him in. He groans into your mouth, sighs a wanton rendition of your name. Your shirt slips up your waist as he dives a hand below the fabric to press against your bare skin.

You pull away sharply. "The lipstick!"

His eyes look murderous for being disturbed, by you of all people. Still, he contains himself enough not to dive right back in. Just barely. What he can’t contain is the furrow in his brow and the frown he wears.

You ignore the smudges of color on his skin, matching stains on your hands, as you tilt his head up to better look at his lips. They're still stained with that light red from before, but-

"Sy! It worked! This one didn't smudge!"

"Perfect." He pulls you roughly back down to him, biting your colored lip before licking it sinfully. "Let's take it for a test run, shall we?"

---

Tag List:

@the-golden-jhope @huen1ngk41 @armycaratlover @sylusfluffymeow @cheesemachine44 @nyx2021 @angel-jupiter @thelittlebutton @pikachuzhc @pomegranatepip @cordidy

[godmadeaterribleerror]

No Love Lost Series Masterlist

Read on A03! - Listen to the Playlist!

Main Masterlist - Soldier Boy Masterlist

Rating/Warnings: 18+ for canon-typical violence, swearing, mental health issues, mentions of rape/non-con, and sexual content.

Tags: Soldier Boy/Supe!Female Reader, enemies to friends to lovers, canon divergence, slow burn, smut, angst, fluff.

Series Summary

Three years ago you were normal, the only demons you had to fight were your own, and you the most you knew of Vought and the Boys were what you saw on TV. But then you met Homelander at a stupid party, and woke up the next morning in a cell.

After almost two and a half years of you being Homelander's little project, Soldier Boy was woken up only go rouge and be put back under. Somewhere in there, you escaped. And before Queen Maeve went underground, she told William Butcher about the Anomaly, a powerful supe who recently escaped Vought captivity and may have an agenda against Homelander.

One month later, the Boys found you.

You spend the next five months helping them best you can, though your control over your powers is weak and your fear of Homelander makes you useless in combat. But you get an idea. A stupid, dangerous idea that turns you into Soldier Boy's keeper, giving him a second chance to take down Homelander, you hanging over his shoulder, a threat should he want to go nuclear again. It's exhausting and frustrating, and you might kill him and yourself as soon as this is over, but you said whatever it takes.

And this is what it takes.

Author's Note

This story is non-canon compliant, with the two main differences being;

1) Butcher doesn't have brain cancer, because I said so.

2) All of Gen V didn't take place, because I don't want to deal with the whole supe-plauge thing. Also that's too many characters to keep track of squad.

Because of this, the story will start in a similar setting as s4e5, but with different events leading up to it, and will deal with similar themes and have similar events to the rest of s4, but at an inconsistent rate. If you have any questions about other, smaller changes I have made, feel free to ask!

Navigation Key

❤️‍🔥 = Smut

🚩 = Additional Warnings

Chapter List

Chapter 1 - Where Winning Looks Like Losing Chapter 2 - A New Kind of Tension Chapter 3 - You've Torn Your Dress 🚩 Chapter 4 - You Might Be The Same As Me Chapter 5 - Popped, Cool, and Ready to Go Chapter 6 - I've Been Searching for a Fortified Defense Chapter 7 - The Blinding Ultra-Violence 🚩 Chapter 8 - I Just Find My Way Back ❤️‍🔥🚩 Chapter 9 - Can't Cover It Up ❤️‍🔥 Chapter 10 - Lead Me To The Ark ❤️‍🔥 Chapter 11 - The Wolves or The Ocean Rocks Chapter 12 - While My Blood's Still Flowing Chapter 13 - The Terror of Knowing Chapter 14 - Choke on Sun Chapter 15 - I Found A Martyr ❤️‍🔥 Chapter 16 - Let It Flood ❤️‍🔥 🚩 Chapter 17 - Make My Chest Stir Chapter 18 - Something In The Static ❤️‍🔥 Chapter 19 - Don't Look Back 🚩 Chapter 20 - Forget to Fall Down Chapter 21 - Some Things You Just Can't Speak About ❤️‍🔥 🚩 Chapter 22 - I Stayed In The Darkness With You Chapter 23 - Wherever You're Going ❤️‍🔥 Chapter 24 - You'll Never Be Alone ❤️‍🔥 Chapter 25 - All I Know ❤️‍🔥 Chapter 26 - I’ve Loved Everything About You That Hurts ❤️‍🔥 Chapter 27 - Just A Shot Away 🚩 Chapter 28 - Something That I'm Supposed to Be ❤️‍🔥 Chapter 29 - All My Bets On You Chapter 30 - Every Demon Wants His Pound of Flesh 🚩 Chapter 31 - I'd Do It All Again ❤️‍🔥

More Than You Could Ever Know - A No Love Lost Christmas Special

Part 1 - The Boys start Secret Santa, Ben pretends to do his job. ❤️‍🔥 Part 2 - Ben and Ryan go shopping, and you all try to find a tree. Part 3 - You and Ben have a Christmas Eve date. Many gifts are opened.

Bonus Footage (Standalone Chapters)

Dying’s Up to Me - A Prologue. Takes place 6ish months before Chapter 1. 🚩 They're Never Gonna Find You A Home - Request! Everyone adjusts to your life with the Boys. Takes place 5ish months before Chapter 1. 🚩 Back to Here - Request! They get horny at the dining table, and Butcher takes it personally. Takes place in Chapter 14. It's So Simple - You make Ben do icebreakers. He's a little bitch about it. Takes place in Chapter 14. Just Your Time - You give Ben internet lessons. Takes place in Chapter 14. As Much As I Do - Request! Ben finds you dancing, is immediately very normal about it. Takes place after Chapter 14 and around Chapter 15. Calling Your Name - Ben's first birthday awake isn't great. Takes place in Chapter 19. ❤️‍🔥 I Skip My Pride - You share some music with Ben over text. Takes place in Chapter 22. The Only Place That I Call Home - It's team game night, and everyone is sick of you and Ben's shit. Takes place in Chapter 24. ❤️‍🔥 Can't Help Myself - Request! Ben has a breeding kink, and you're incredibly horny, so it works. Takes place in around Chapter 24 and Chapter 25. ❤️‍🔥 Anywhere Else Is Hollow - A halloween special episode! Takes place in Chapter 25. It Was Smiling Down - A Ryan pov Chapter. Takes place between Chapter 26 and Chapter 27. A Call To Motion - Request! There's a lot of things you're good at. Sex with Ben is one of them. Takes places in Chapter 28.❤️‍🔥 I Want You Only - You and Ben go shopping. Takes place in Chapter 28 ❤️‍🔥 I’ll Hold Your Hand - Request! You get your period, and Ben has to do his job and take care of that. Takes place post series.

Found Footage (Post-Series Chapters)

Just Too Important - You and Ben head to Costco. Takes place about two months post-series. Dreams of Love - Request! You and Ben have to babysit. Takes place ten months post-series. Setting In A Honeymoon - You and Ben finally get a honeymoon. Takes place about a year post-series. The Best Thing - Request! You, Ben, and Ryan get a cat.

[snoopyhq]

˚ ♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀ i want your drama, the touch of your hand

type: viktor x reader

summary: making up with viktor after a particulatly nasty fight

warning(s): suggestive/borderline nsfw content after the red line divider !!!

word count: 1320

a/n: literally had this thought occur to me while i was boxing at my job yesterday and bad romance came on shuffle on my phone, MAN... the original version but also think the moulin rouge "backstage romance" version MWAH

Hour two, still no talking. The atmosphere within the apartment was heavy with unspoken resentment and hurt. Both of you had woken up in particularly bad moods, and it seemed that being in each others' presence simply amplified that.

Every little thing he did 'wrong' was ticking you off, and everything you said that was slightly unpredicted or off in tone would set him off, and it finally boiled over during dinner.

"I don't like lemon zest. I thought you knew that," he commented. He twirled a strand of the linguini through the fork, pushing the food around on the plate. In that moment, he looked like a petulant, petty brat, and it took all your strength not to reach across the table and slap it out of his hand.

"Maybe speak up next time. Or better yet, you could cook for a change then, since you seem to always have a smart remark about it!"

Viktor set down his fork. The lines between his brows furrowed.

"Don't speak to me that way please," he said, meeting your gaze. "I understand you may be frustrated, but I was just stating my preference. Something I thought you would know, since we do live and spend much of our time together, do we not?"

Anything else he may have said after the first statement didn't matter. You were already in an angry mood, and very much did not appreciate being told how to act.

"Don't police my fucking tone, Viktor. I'll speak however I want to dammit!"

He said nothing, picked up his fork again, and ate the rest of his meal in silence. The wall was slowly rising between the two of you once more. Viktor didn't wait for you to finish your food. He took his dishes, stood up, and walked off, the sound of his cane tapping against the tiles echoing too loudly in the space. You did your own dishes that night, and he did his.

Now there was a warmth lacking, even as the mattress dipped and sighed with every toss and turn. You were doing your best to keep your back to the other. It hurt, but your prides were nearly as sharp as your minds.

One of you had to break. You didn't want it to be you.

The loud banging noise from your upstairs neighbor finally did something.

"Goddammit, that idiot dropped something again," you complained.

"Someone please ban him from buying anymore hideous garden statues. That balcony is straight out of a post-apocalyptic nightmare," Viktor agreed.

You snorted, and quickly tried to cover it by clearing your throat.

"Am I only useful when I'm entertaining you?" he asked softly.

"Shut up. You know that's not true," you finally turned to face him.

"Then..."

"Viktor, I swear."

"That denial implies you care for me. Please, show and not just tell me," he requested sweetly.

"Oh yeah? Show you how, exactly?"

"I'm cold. I miss your warmth. You are cruel when you take away my routinely expectations."

"Fine. Come here," you finally reached out, and clasped his hand in yours.

This wasn't going to completely fix all the underlying emotional distress you were both dealing with, and it certainly wasn't going to fully rid what had transpired. But it was a start, made all the more worth it when he closed the gap, arms already wrapping around you tightly.

"I hate it when we fight," he whispered.

"Me too. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have taken out my frustrations on you."

"I'm sorry too. I should not have nitpicked so much, and I should have realized policing your tone wasn't going to make things go well."

NSFW AHEAD !!! YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED !!! MINORS DNI PLS !!!

Viktor gasped, the sound breathy as it fell from his beautiful lips, now slightly swollen from how much you'd kissed and nipped at them. Your hands were in his hair, and you delighted in his reactions with every sharp tug. His amber eyes were dark. They gazed up into yours, practically begging for more more more.

You were happy to indulge.

"Tilt your head back a bit more for me," you rasped in his ear, pushing him back against the pillows. He complied easily.

"Please...," he groaned.

You pressed another kiss to his pulse point. It was one of his more sensitive area, and wasn’t helped when you followed it up with more kisses on his beauty marks.

He sighed.

“You always kiss me like you’re discovering oxygen for the first time again.”

"Because you always take my breath away." You murmured in response. You knew he was going to tell you off for such a stupidly predictable statement, and he did. You shrugged and kept kissing him again and again, silencing any more protests he had with your choice of words.

He nipped at your lower lip, enjoying the small little hiss you let out. He loved that. It never grew old.

His lips left yours, reluctantly, but moved on to your flushed cheeks and down your jaw. Viktor’s hands began gently trailing down your body, tracing and touching and feeling, committing you to memory. Everything about you was perfect, and he was in awe of it all.

As if to translate his thoughts through touch, he squeezed your thighs. He especially had a thing for them, always had. It was like they were made for him to hold.

“You’re so touchy already, Viktor? Insatiable,” you teased.

"But you love it when I can’t keep my hands to myself. You can't lie to me about that,” he cooed in a soft, lilting tone. His fingers traced along your thighs again, digging into the soft flesh.

“Yeah, yeah. enjoy that smug look while you still can,” you grumbled, not denying his words.

You suddenly lunged at him, kissing a trail down his body, giggling to yourself at his surprised yelp.

"Hey!" he laughed breathlessly, his stomach doing somersaults as you kissed along his body. His eyes fluttered closed as he felt your lips press to his skin. He loved when you did this, especially when you would leave soft little marks on his hips.

And speaking of that. You were currently working away at his hips now, trying to hold back the urge to just sink your teeth into him.

He couldn't stop the soft sighs and moans that escaped him. Gods, the touch of your lips on his delicate skin was sending shivers throughout his body.

"You don't have to be ah… gentle all the time." he murmured breathlessly, his fingers now the ones tangled in your hair.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yes. Just bite me already, coward," he demanded.

He liked when you were a bit more rough with him. In fact, he preferred it. You not treating him like he was fragile. It made him feel better than being treated like a priceless doll, hidden away behind locked glass.

“Fuck, finally.” With his permission explicitly given, you finally sink your teeth down into him.

He let out a sharp moan, his hips rolling up a bit automatically.

"Keep going, please." he whispered. “Keep proving to me you’ll keep me warm for the rest of our days.”

You looked up at him, so wonderfully vulnerable and so violently true. His emotions were etched onto every angle of his face. Viktor was never once to mince words when it came to acts of passion, and you were fully reminded of exactly why you adored him so.

“I will. You’re forgiven,” you smiled. “Consider this worship my apology to you, and your acceptance, yours to me.”

You slowly pushed his legs apart, practically aching with the reverence and love and affection you felt for him. You could feel his breath hitch as yours ghosted over his inner thighs.

If this was how you two were to make up after a fight, maybe you should engage in conflict more often, you mused to yourself. It was going to be a slow, feverish night.

[yandere-daydreams]

tw - unhealthy relationships, non/con, mentions of overstimulation, dehumanization, semi-public sex, and abuse.

[commissioned piece. donate to palestinians in gaza here.]

If Arlecchino had it her way, you think you’d be more of a doll than a person.

Not that it would make much of a difference when it comes to how she treats you. To her, all the world might as well be pieces of a chessboard; playthings to pose and position as she deems fit. Knights are sent into righteous battles, pawns are burnt to ash on first line of fire, and you’re made to watch it all from your place on a glass-enclosed pedestal, where the cruelties of the world are visible, but at a distance. That’s a flaw in her little world that Arlecchino hasn’t realized, yet – your eyes, unlike those of the delicate figurines she favors, are not only painted on.

You suppose you should count yourself lucky, when compared to the rest of her unfortunate collection. Most of her pieces are chipped and scarred, sharpened into fine, deadly points only to be discarded when they begin to dull. You, on the other hand, have proved yourself worthy of her maintenance. Your wardrobe is curated to her particular tastes, every style of bow and pattern of lace hand-selected to suit her preferred aesthetics, and she spends each morning running comb after comb through your hair, brushing rouge onto your cheeks, taking leisurely minutes to decide if she’d rather see you in blue or pink or lilac – always light colors, always gentle. You think, sometimes, that you must look like a groomed dog next to her, pastel and ridiculous next to her monotone elegance. Often, you try not to think about how little of a difference it would make if she added a leash and collar to your daily ensemble.

She rarely lets you leave her sight. Of course, obligation does draw her away from you from time to time (a rarity she laments as often as you pray for), but whenever possible, she has you sitting pretty by her side or, better yet, perched in her lap, straddling her waist and sobbing quietly into her chest as her clever fingers bring you to the brink of climax for the nth time in the past hour. The company she keeps rarely makes a difference when it comes to how or when she touches you – although, you do try not to remember how many of her colleagues have seen you with teary eyes and open legs. A doll’s owner rarely questions the way they choose to handle their toy, and so, she’s content not to think about how she handles you. Her only acknowledgement of your suffering is a quick kiss to the cheek as she coaxes you onto your own feet, a muttered comment about the new stain on the dark fabric of her pants. It’s a miracle that you can bear the humiliation of it, but your endurance is a convenience, not a necessity. There’s no reality in which your limitations alone would be enough to stop her.

Arlecchino does, at least, make the occasional effort to pretend she thinks of you as a partner, rather than a plaything. She’s made it clear that, in her ideal world, you’d happily accept the total loss of your autonomy and thank her for each and every second you spend under the torment of her obsession, but she settles for the occasional, trembling smile when she presents you with a gift or confection you lingered on while passing by an especially charming shop, the tender intimacy of your head resting on her shoulder when yet another meeting proves to be more long-lasting than your attention span. On her best days, she’ll even respond to your timid requests to please not leave another bruise on your neck, another fang shaped indentation on your collarbone with a breath of a laugh and a hushed explanation of why she has to, rather than just an outright, wordless dismissal. You wouldn’t quite say she listens to you, but it’s as close as she comes.

Dolls, after all, are incapable of requesting to be played with in a certain way, or asking their owners to treat them more gently, or speaking up about anything at all.

A doll, Arlecchino’s ideal doll, can only watch with a smile as it’s broken apart.

[becausebuckley]

michelle's buddie fic recs: week 3!

happy sunday! hope you all enjoy these wonderful fics <3 if you're looking for more recs, here's another rec list i made this week!

this is a mix of fics with all ratings, so some include NSFW content. please take a look at both the ratings and the fic tags before reading! some might also contain spoilers for season 8.

if you come across something you like in this list, remember to show some love to the author by leaving kudos and a comment!

a guide to playing matchmaker for your boyfriend | sammyunhinged/@sammyunhinged | 52.9k | M

When Ravi incidentally finds out that Buck is questioning his sexuality, he offers him support, being the only person in Buck’s life that understands the particular intricacies of realizing you’re bisexual. In the process, Ravi learns that Buck just wants to date a guy, some relationship where he could discover himself and get comfortable in sexuality. Something short-term and casual. Ravi thinks he might be the perfect option. i've been on a ravi kick this past week (started before anirudh's video so like i'm not saying i manifested it but i'm also not not saying that lmao) and this fic was one of the highlights for sure!! wonderful writing and such great characterisation of ravi, but also such fun buddie <3

all my atoms | extasiswings/@extasiswings | 3.9k | T

There are three things every child learns about daemons: Don’t ask questions or talk about another person’s daemon—it’s rude. Don’t put too much distance between yourself and your daemon—it’ll hurt. Under no circumstances should you ever touch someone else’s daemon. Simple. Straightforward. Easy to remember, easier to follow. That’s what Eddie thinks of the rules. buck and eddie's daemons are so lovely and i love how this fic weaves daemons into a canon compliant setting!!

buck buckley hours on the diaz couch | sunlight/@justonebigbee | 5.8k | T

“Did you see me come over the back of the couch earlier?” Eddie asks. It’s such a non-sequitur that it makes Buck laugh a little. “Yes, I did. Very cool, man.” He’s only half-teasing. Eddie could make anything look cool. He just also happens to look silly most of the time too. Like now, for example. Lounging over top of Buck on his couch in this ridiculous get up. “I’ll go get us a snack, and—and, I’m probably going to do it again.” Eddie whispers the second part, like it's a big secret. i love this fic's combination of flirty buddie and non-sexual intimacy and the birthmarks and the couch!!

evan buckley and the art of crafts | beezethe/@evanpercy | 26.3k | T

Five times Buck gives Eddie a handmade gift out of love, and one time he actually means it. (or: the craft fic) crafty buck has my whole heart <3 this fic does such a good job capturing buck and his new projects and the firefam relationships!

he touched me, so i live to know | kejfeblintz/@kejfeblintz | 4.1k | T

5 times Buck and Eddie touched, and one time they really touched. so soft so cute so them <3 just a delight!!

life is just the way you hold me | allyasavedtheday/@littlespoonevan | 10.1k | T

Some people, when they go online shopping at night, buy things they don’t need. Like a Fitbit or a novelty t-shirt. Eddie… Eddie buys a professional cuddler. this was a reread, and a lovely one at that <3 soft and cozy and just wonderful. the fic equivalent of a warm hug!

next to your heartbeat, where i should be | rainbow_nerds/@rainbow-nerdss | 11.4k | E

Eddie’s not a complete idiot. He knows this isn’t normal. He stands in front of a mirror in his underwear, the tightest pair he owns, and he poses for a picture at an angle he’s learned flatters his ass and the curve of his thigh, to send to his best friend. ohh man something about buddie being Platonic Best Bros TM and engaging in decidedly non-Platonic Best Bro behaviour gets me every time. this is hot and fun and such a delightful read <3

rouge my neck | notathingtoseehere | 4.1k | M

Eddie is definitely not jealous at all, and has a completely normal reaction to strangers talking to Buck. they're idiots, they're in love, what more could a girl (me) want? nothing, the answer is nothing, because this fic is everything!!

take the bitter with the sweet | fruitsdoesnotknow/@fruitsdontknow | 5.2k | T

No one thought to brief Ravi on the Buckley-Diaz situation when he finally joins the 118. Spoiler: it goes about as well as a car crash. ravi struggling to figure out what on earth is going on with buddie is one of my favourite things in fics <3 this one also has brilliant firefam dynamics!!

the cost of doing business | pretentiousswanqueen/@hotcinnamonsunset | 5.4k | T

Ravi's landlord status makes him privy to some confidential information about the 118's finest. another one in a string of really lovely ravi fics <3 fluff and humour and such wonderful ravi narration!!

there's one thing (it's the weight of our wish) | atlasblue85/@atlasblue85 | 3.6k | GA

“I just don’t get it,” he says to Buck over the phone one day in mid-February, a couple months into the relo. “Last time they were because I was dating someone I shouldn’t have been dating. I’ve been single for nearly a year now, this shouldn’t be happening.” Buck hums across the line and Eddie rolls his eyes, tracking a flock of birds heading west. “Okay, you clearly have thoughts. Out with it.” “It’s just…” Buck starts. “Is that really why your panic attacks were happening? Because you were dating the wrong person?” the structure of this fic is so cool, and i love the buddie phone call at the start <3

TRUST! | pairofraggedclaws/@pairofraggedclaws | 7.8k | E

“I get used to it, I guess. Kind of. After a while,” Eddie says. Then, very quietly, “I’m just, uh, sensitive.” “Oh,” Buck says. Eddie's just sensitive. Eddie, his best friend, who he has now seen when he comes. Who comes in under a minute if he isn’t getting some on the regs. This is – this is – interesting. yeah buck interesting sure is a word you could use lmao. THIS FIC. this absolute gem of a fic <3 so hot and soft and just a delight!!

winner winner chicken dinner | lecornergirl/@clusterbuck | 1.9k | T

He’d rolled his eyes when Linda had sent him the recipe, the brightly coloured letters at the top of the page spelling out MARRY ME CHICKEN. She’d told him to make it for Buck some time and he’d sent back every unimpressed emoji he could find, but— It wasn’t supposed to work. He hadn’t made it because he’d thought it would do anything, only because the creamy chicken with sun-dried tomatoes actually sounded really good.  sweet and funny and fluffy! this fic makes me crave chicken. i did in fact bookmark the recipe <3

worth it | tabbytabbytabby/@tabbytabbytabby | 1.6k | T

When Buck gets a cold, Eddie takes care of him. buddie taking care of each other, my absolute beloved <3 based on the tags, this is right up my alley, and the tags were right! one of my favourites for sure!

[madridnoora]

౨ৎ ⋆｡˚ Forbidden - A Messy Night

Sixth instalment of the forbidden au - lsu!joe x oc

Instalments - one, two, three , three.two, four and five ౨ৎ

Summary: An old friend comes to visit Daisy on campus, leading to a long drunken night of bar hopping and partying that leaves Joe picking up the pieces.

⋆｡˚ word count: 9.8k

18+ Content. MDNI :). Mentions of drinking, smoking and sex. ⋆｡˚

daisyymoore

a party hates to see us coming - Baton Rouge, Louisiana

Liked by jjettas2, cassdaviess and 543 others

@.cassdaviess: ma little daisy girl.

-> @.daisyymoore: ma little kittycass

@.isabellaabreut: ur so hot

-> @.daisyymoore: blushing rn

@.carsonford: trip of the year loading

-> @.daisyymoore: i've been counting down the days.

-> @.cassdaviess: eeeeeek so exciting!!!

@.jjettas2: u look dope.

-> @.daisyymoore: swag.

October 17th 2019

Daisy scrolled on her phone, snuggled under the soft floral sheets of her dorm room bed. She looked over the post she had made a few hours ago, checking to see the comments and likes, analysing every image more than she needed too. Should she have posted them? Did she look good enough? She analysed her face so intensely, it startsed to look almost distorted.

She read Carson's comment again and butterflies of excitement fluttered in her stomach. Carson had been her best friend since middle school, the only friend from high school that really remained a strong figure in her college life. He also happened to be Lucas' older brother, only in the grade above. However, they were complete opposites, different in every single aspect. Lucas was an all American football star and Carson was a fashion student at Parsons School of Design in NYC. The pair of them hardly spoke to each other, a brother relationship that had spent years becoming strained. For a long while, Daisy was the only reason the brothers spoke at all.

Since Lucas and her broke up, Carson had only spoke to his brother briefly at Christmas. Daisy couldn't help but feel sorrow in her chest when she thought about the family relationship between them, feeling a responsibility to help mend the broken bonds but then she remembered that they were grown men. Men who could decide and mend their relationship for themselves. It would be best for everyone if she just stayed out of it.

Carson and Daisy always spend Halloween together, last year he came to stay on campus in Louisiana and this year would be no different.

Daisy was about to lock her phone, putting it away for the night as she prepared to get some much needed sleep when a message popped up on her screen. A ding sounding out around the room, one that made Cassie stir in the bed across from her.

Joe

what trip?

Daisy scoffed. She replied bluntly, a tone of cheekiness in each word.

stop stalking

Joe had clearly been looking at her page, reading each comment. Daisy rolled her eyes at the thought of him laying in bed, likely shirtless with an arm stretched behind his head scrolling through instagram aimlessly. Another ding pulled her away from the image she created of Joe in her mind.

Joe

what trip?

Daisy pondered over how to respond to his message. Did she tell him the truth or did she make up a lie? Did she let her casual hookup know that her ex boyfriends brother, who also happened to be her best friend, was coming to town for a couple days and would be spending halloween with her? She twiddles her thumbs over the letters of her iphone keyboard.

just a friend coming to visit for a few days, she typed the message and hit send. Anxiety grasped at her chest as she saw the bubble pop up, letting her know he was typing. A small breath held itself tight in her chest as minutes past, the bubble still there, pulsating, almost tormentingly. The message never came. The bubble disappeared, leaving a hollow space at the bottom of her screen. She released the breath. A strong sigh.

She rolls over in her cotton sheets and grabs her charger, plugging her phone in. A buzz of confirmation in her hands as she sets it down on the surface beside her. She settles back in bed, delicately shutting her eyes. She had a class early in the morning and she had been up for way longer than she should have been. She should have ignored the light that shone out into the dark room, she should have ignored the buzz that vibrated against the wooden bedside table, but something told her to look. A magnetic feeling in her stomach attracting her to the device.

Her green eyes shoot open and she leans over to check her phone.

@.joeyb_9 liked your post

@.joeyb_9 liked a comment on your post

Curiosity got the best of her, and she had to see what comment he had liked.

It was Bella's. 'ur so hot'

Daisy looked at the ceiling in both frustration and disbelief, but she couldn't stop her bodies real reaction. A drop in the stomach and a rosy coloured heat decorating her bare cheeks. Blushing at the quarterbacks bare minimum attention -- what a cliche.

Her phone thudded back on the wooden surface as she lightly threw it away from her.

She needed sleep, not Joe, sleep.

-౨ৎ ⋆｡˚ -

The frat house was quieter than Daisy was used too. Only faint rap music sounded from the basement, some dishes clattered from the kitchen and hardly any voices sounded through the near empty house. She sat at the chair of Joe's desk, her laptop open on her classwork as she tried to get some studying done.

It was Saturday night.

Most of the frat brothers were out at the campus bars or at another party. The football team was away in Mississippi, although heading back on the bus. Daisy had stayed over last night, doing what her and Joe usually did. Panting breaths, sticky skin and rough sex. He had surprised her when he left for the game in the morning.

'Stay. I won't be back too late' A nonchalant head turned over his shoulder to look at her sleepy self under the covers of his bed. The red lace thong from over a week ago, still hanging from his headboard. A reminder of her he didn't want to take down, no matter how many times Daisy begged him to.

Daisy subtly nodded her head, too tired from the early hour to fight him. When Joe shut the door to his bedroom, she fell back asleep. Waking up lazily at midday.

Since then she had been bored, struggling to find something to do other than her class work or binge watching stupid videos on youtube. She was too scared to leave the room, not until the evening when she knew Joe's housemates would be leaving for the parties spread out across frat row. Then she crept down the stairs, tiptoeing in bare feet as she avoided being detected. When she pulled open the heavy door of the silver fridge, she was met with little choice. All that was available was an apple. A lone standing apple shining ruby red under the white lights of the cold refrigerator.

She huffed and took a big bite, juice dripping down the sides of her lips as she walked back up the stairs and into Joe's room. The wait for him to return would be an excruciating one.

When Joe text her to let her know he was getting on the bus back, she thanked the sky above. That was until she googled the distance between them and realised another four hours would still have to pass until her boredom and hopefully her hunger would be cured.

That's when she decided to shove some of the mess from his dark wooden cluttered desk onto the floor and try to work her way through a big chunk of studying she needed to do. Now, she sat in the quiet silence. Her teeth biting at her nails as the white screen illuminated her face. Sage green eyes dulled with exhaustion. Stress draining the life from her system.

Joe would be back in an hour and a half. She was giving up on the work that had plagued her long day.

She wondered how his game had gone, she hadn't bothered to watch. However, the curiosity of whether he had won, whether he had performed well bit at her insides. She stared as the computer screen, which had now gone into sleep mode, with a deep contemplation. She pressed her full lips together, biting on the bottom one. Briefly, her eyes darted to the hanging Ohio State poster on his wall. She blew out a puffed breath.

Daisy's fingers waggled on the mousepad of her laptop, once again it illuminated her face. Dainty finger's speedily typed into the search bar.

lsu v mississippi game

Another exhale sharply left her mouth as the screen went blank loading up the results. Multiple headlines flashed on to her screen, her eyes scanning over each one.

'LSU's Tigers barely beat Mississippi in worst performance of the season'

'Joe Burrow has disaster game against Mississippi'

'LSU take an undeserved victory over an impressive Mississippi team'

Her heart dropped at the words she was reading. From what Daisy had gathered, LSU had barely beat an easy Mississippi team. The scoreline 23-20 and Joe's performance, for the first time this season, was not a heismann worthy one.

Anxiety crept it's way up her spine, slow goosebumps trailing over her now cold skin. Colour drained from her usually flushed face. Joe would be coming back annoyed and angry with himself. Memories of her old relationship flood back through her mind. Time and time again, she had been shouted at and ridiculed for being the reason Lucas had performed bad. Would that happen to her again? Would Joe blame his poor game on the fact that she had been staying over his place more than ever before? Daisy weighed up the options of what she could do. She considered leaving, sending Joe a text saying something had come up and she needed to run but that may have only led to him being more frustrated.

She let out a weary breath, a one shaking with anticipation.

She would stay.

All day the time had moved painfully slow. Minutes going by like hours, but the last hour of the day went by in seconds. It felt like only moments after Daisy had googled the game that she heard the hefty door of the house slam harshly shut.

Small voices filled the hallway. She recognised one as Justin, but she couldn't make out what was being said. She couldn't hear Joe, but she did hear the heavy stomping sound of feet marching towards the door of his room.

She sat up in the bed, her legs crossed, bracing for what was to come through the door.

Joe entered the room, a seething look decorating his face. He had a scratch on his cheek, old blood dried on the side of his head. His bag was thrown down in the corner of his room with enough force to make Daisy jump. His bedroom door slammed, the four walls around them seemed to rattle.

Joe didn't look at her, instead he walked straight into his bathroom and slammed that door also. The noise of the shower water hitting the floor sounded out around the room. Daisy's shoulders relaxed as she realised she would have at least fifteen minutes before he re-entered the bedroom.

She gnawed at her nails as she waited for him to come back out, she started to regret not leaving. Awkwardness clawed at her skin as it reached out from the heavy atmosphere that encompassed her.

When she heard the bathroom door unlock with a starling click, her shoulders tensed again.

Joe came out the bathroom shirtless with a white towel hanging from his waist. Small droplets of water still running down his tanned, sculpted back. His hair was wet. The dried blood from his face, gone and washed away. Dampness filled the air, alongside the steamy heat from the shower waters hot temperature.

If she hadn't been so tense about what could happen, and what Joe was going to say, she would have found the whole thing attractive. His bare, freshly washed chest on full display. His wet hair slicked back. He looked fine. Fine as hell.

Joe grabbed some sweats and put them on. His towel dropping to the floor, leaving Daisy to only gulp in response. She was in the same clothes he left her in, hopping into them again after her own morning shower. The spongebob t-shirt and some brandy melville boy shorts that she had brought over herself.

Uncomfortable silence still spread through the air.

'You want me to leave? Give you some space.' Daisy's words are compassionate and considerate.

'Did i ask you to leave?' Joe's response is sarcastic and rude, spat from his mouth in disdain. He doesn't mean it to be but the events of tonights game had left him pissed and he hated the sympathetic tone in her voice.

'No-erm, I just-' Daisy stumbled over her words, scrambling to try and find the right thing to say to him. Embarrassment and pressure surged through her skin. A deep heat on the back of her neck.

'Then stop asking me dumb questions' Every word that Joe said was growled from his throat, daggers shot through clenched teeth. Daisy felt herself sinking in his bed.

'I'm sorry' Her apology is quiet and rushed, not wanting to anger him anymore.

'Why are you sorry, it's not like you were on the field' Joe tutted through his teeth as he paced around his room, head down and a hand rubbing at the back of his neck.

'I know but- I mean, erm- y'know' Daisy once again stumbled as she tried to explain what she meant.

'God, Dais. Spit it out' Joe's head jerked towards where she was sat, crossed legged on his bed in the ridiculous spongebob shirt he had given her, her hands picking at the skin around her nails. Her shoulders held up in a tense way, her brunette hair wavy and laying haphazardly around her flaming cheeks.

'Do I not get in the way, don't I distract you or make you play bad.' Words tumbled from her mouth. When she looked at Joe, he could see the uneasy panic in her big doe eyes. When he did, unusual guilt swirled in his stomach. His hard gaze shifts to a softer one.

'Why would you think that?' Joe's voice became gentler but it still maintained a defensive tone. His question a genuine one.

He watched as Daisy swallowed a lump in her throat, her eyes darting around the room to avoid his stare. Shaky hands still picked at the skin around her nails. Joe had a feeling he knew why, he just wanted it to be vocalised, confirmed through her words.

'Erm, Lucas' Daisy swallowed again before continuing. 'He would blame me pretty bad after a loss.'

She looks at Joe, the room around them pausing as she waited for his response.

Joe just rolled his eyes, throwing his head back in an almost laugh. He subtle scoff rolling off his tongue.

'Of course he did'

'He said at the game, in Austin, that he'd been playing better since we broke up and his stats don't lie' Daisy continued talking. She believed every word Lucas had said about her being a distraction. The proof was in the way his draft stock was going up, the amount of touchdowns he was getting each game.

Joe let out a brief laugh, before he turned to look at her concerned eyes.

'Lucas' stats are better because the Longhorns have a better O-line and a better quarterback this season. He's playing how he's always played -- average'

The insulting words rolls easily of Joe's tongue, a cocky smirk dancing across his lips. He watched as Daisy tried to hide a smile at his words, her shoulders dropping and her tense exterior softening. Light re-entered her eyes, and a glow came back to her skin as she no longer felt stressed about Joe's attitude.

'I played bad because I didn't prepare enough. That's on me and me only, sweetcheeks' Joe said as he crawled into bed beside her, a television remote firm in his hand pressing the on button.

Daisy couldn't explain it, but Joe's words were almost healing. She wouldn't let him know but what he had said was one of the most caring things someone had ever done for her, and he didn't even realise it. He lay beside her not sparing a second thought for the conversation they just had, like it was a nothing moment between them.

She lay back in the bed beside him, a lip bitten between her teeth as she tried to stop the smile on her face. Highlights of other college football games filled the air from the television screen. The field tinting the aura of the room green. She pulled up her phone, letting the commentary play out as background noise as she scrolled through various instagram stories. She tried to focus on anything but the agonising hunger jabbing at her empty stomach. All she had eaten was an apple. She wanted to ask Joe for something but she didn't want to feel like a bother, not after the day he had.

A loud growl echoes from her stomach.

Instinctively she placed a hand over it to try and stop it.

Joe looked at her, wide eyed with concern.

'Did you have some food today?' Joe quizzed.

Daisy just shook her head. Joe let out a breath and an annoyed 'fuck's sake' before his got out of bed and threw on a black hoodie. The hood remaining up. He threw another one at Daisy. It was white with LSU football written boldly across the front.

'Come on' Joe said as he directed her to put the hoodie on and grabbed his keys from the top of his dressed. The noise of them jangling mixing with the sound of the television which still played out into the room.

-౨ৎ ⋆｡˚ -

The roads of Baton Rouge were quiet, the time had just gone past one am. Bright city lights passed them by. Some old Weeknd songs played quietly through the speakers of Joe's car. Daisy didn't know where he was taking her, he hadn't said but she assumed it was to get food. She nodded her head along to the music. Joe's one hand rested on the leather steering wheel, the other placed on his thigh. His fingers lightly tapping to the music.

When he turned a corner, she understood the destination of the late night journey. The golden arches lit up in the night sky, almost in way that seemed to mock the moon.

'McDonald's'

Wow. Joe sure knew how to treat a girl special. Daisy wasn't complaining, she would take any food to fill up the hunger in her hollow stomach. Joe turned the car into the drive thru, pulling up at the ordering machine.

'What'you want?'

'Ten piece McNuggets, large fries and a large diet coke' Daisy recited her order quickly, the same thing she had been getting her whole life. Joe nodded his head, repeating it the worker over the machine and adding on a double cheeseburger and fries for himself.

Joe paid and drove to the second window.

A wide eyed boy, who must have been no older than sixteen, smiled out the window.

'Holy shit!, you're Joe Burrow' The kid said excitedly. A gleaming light in his eyes as he looked at Joe.

Joe nodded his head, a small smile on his face. Not a cocky or arrogant one, but a genuine one.

'Man, you're killing it this season. I can't wait to watch you in the league.' The cheerful kid said as he packed up the food for Daisy and Joe, handing it carefully out the window. Joe took the brown paper bags and passed them to Daisy.

' 'Preciate the support kid, it means a lot' Joe offered the boy a tip, some cash from his glove compartment. The young boy beamed and thanked him profusely, then Joe drove out into the parking lot.

Daisy analysed the interaction that had just taken place before her. A kid's eyes lighting up like he saw a superhero, Joe's humble response. A response that she never expected from how he acts in the frat house, from the smug arrogant grin that had become his most staple facial expression.

'That was cute' Daisy said as she dug into her fries, and took sips from her diet coke.

'It was nothing' Joe shrugged off her words trying to maintain the cold frat boy persona. The nonchalant, I don't care about anything but football act. Daisy just nodded her head, reading the energy in the car and not pushing her luck. It was the least she could do after he bought her food.

When they were done, Joe drove them back to his place. They crashed as soon as they hit the bed, and for the first time Daisy stayed over in a different context. No sex. Just sleeping beside each other, shallow rhythmic breaths sounding out from their peaceful slumbers. Once again, closeness envelopes them. Joe's loose arm wrapped over her hip, and for the first time he didn't bother to move it.

-౨ৎ ⋆｡˚ -

Excitement bubbled in every corner of Cassie's car as the three girls waited outside of Baton Rouge Airport for Carson's arrival. They had last seen him when they went to New York and then to the Hamptons for two weeks over summer break. Three months had passed since then. Three months way too long. A pop playlist hummed through the car stereo as the girls kept darting their eyes around looking for him.

'AHHHHH' Bella's scream made Cassie and Daisy jump. Bella outstretched her arm, a index finger pointing in the direction of a door from the airport.

Cassie and Daisy's heads snap to see what she screamed at.

It's Carson.

He's waving one hand manically at the car, the other hand gripping on his hot pink sparkly suitcase. The same one he had been using to travel with since Daisy met him. The girls jump out the car as Carson begins to sprint over to them.

His chest hits Daisy's with a strong force, a tender and tight embrace between best friends who missed each other deeply. Tears welled in her eyes, emotion she didn't expect herself to feel flooding to the forefront of her mind. She knew she missed him, but she didn't quite grasp how much until that very moment. Carson was her rock through everything, the person who knew her most in the world. He had grown up with her, lived his life with her and not having him around took it's toll more than Daisy dared to admit.

Two other sets of arms engulfed around them as Bella and Cassie joined in the embrace.

'Okayyyy, enough with the soppy shit. Let's get in the car' Carson wiped his own tears away as he opened the trunk and swung his heavy suitcase in the back. He had overpacked, but he was a fashion student so the girls had expected nothing less.

Cassie drove them out of the airport parking lot and headed back to LSU's campus.

'I can't believe you're actually here' Daisy said, turning to face Carson in the backseat beside Bella.

'Neither can I. God, i'm so excited to party, and for Halloween. It's all that's gotten me through the past month.' Carson said as he held out his hands for Daisy to grab. She placed her two hands in his and they squeezed them together with an excited squeal.

'Not excited about sleeping on the floor though' Carson's smile dropped when he remembered the uncomfortable arrangements he would have to put up with while staying at the cramped dorm rooms of LSU.

'Don't worry, she sleeps in Joe's bed more than she sleeps in her own' Bella quips a joking jab from the backseat, letting Carson know that it was most likely he would have a bed to sleep in this trip.

Daisy turned sharply and shot Bella squinted daggers from her eyes. Carson laughed, he knew all about the little situation between Daisy and the quarterback. Daisy had been telling him every detail when it happened, keeping him up to date on any gossip she had.

'Joe's?' A sweet voice of deep confusion sounded out from the driver's seat. Every other head in the car turned to her with furrowed brows.

'Yeah, Cass. Joe Burrow's.' Bella reiterated.

'Why are you sleeping in Joe Burrow's bed?' Cassie's voice was somehow even more confused. Suddenly, it dawns on Daisy that she never told her about the regular hookups she was having with Joe, she had just assumed that she would have figured it out from the fact that she was almost never in the dorm anymore, or that Bella would have told her.

'You didn't tell her?' Bella shouted at her with an accusatory tone.

'I thought you would have' Daisy chirped back. Each of them being blamed for leaving Cassie out of the loop.

Cassie took her eyes of the road briefly to look between an arguing Bella and Daisy.

'I've been hooking up with him, casually' Daisy feels embarressed to say it, like she was some sort of failure. A hot flush was vibrant against her freckled cheeks.

'WHAT! For how long?' Cassie can't hide her shock.

'Almost two months now' Daisy, once again, is embarrassed. The words coming out her mouth like a whisper. Two months, she hadn't even realised it had been that long.

'Start from the beginning' Cassie commanded.

Daisy spent the rest of the drive back to campus explaining every detail of how Joe and her came to be in the place they were in now. Cassie clung to every word, her jaw hanging open in shock the whole journey. She couldn't believe it, Daisy and Joe Burrow, the nation's number one college quarterback. It was like it was written, like it was too perfect of a story to be real. Daisy throughout reiterated that it never meant anything, they weren't even friends and it was just a transactional agreement that benefitted them both.

Cassie didn't believe her for a second. Maybe, at this current moment, Daisy and Joe were nothing to each other. Maybe, at this current moment, they didn't care but if they had spent two months hooking up it meant they found each other likeable enough to stay around. Add sex multiple times a week into the equation and Cassie knew that it was only a matter of time before attachment began to form, jealousy grew and a chaotic mess would come with it.

-౨ৎ ⋆｡˚ -

Voices bustled in the Baton Rouge bar as the girls, Carson and Justin sat at a dark lit table. Red neon signs depicting beer brands and cigarette companies were the main source of light. Another source was the television screen which showcased the lyrics to karaoke songs, ones drunken people sang out like nails on a chalkboard.

They had come out to celebrate Carson's arrival, it was always the tradition. Daisy had intended for it to just be the girls and Carson, but Justin had text her asking what she was doing tonight. At first it felt strange, to see a text from Justin and not have it come through Bella or Joe, but then she remembered it was Justin and her who were friends first. Even before she was friends with Bella, she was friends with Justin.

Since the whole Joe situation, their friendship had been weird. Daisy felt like she couldn't hang out with Justin without Joe freaking out, then an argument taking place about teammates and how she has been instructed to stay away from them.

She almost sent Justin back a lie. She almost told him that she was staying in and studying for the evening, but she stopped herself. Justin was her friend, and Joe would have to be a man and cope with it. So, she told Justin to join them at the bar down town. LSU's victory against Auburn at the weekend signified the start of a two week break in the football season, that meant they had a free week to blow of some steam.

Shot glasses filled with tequila tapped on the table before being tossed down their throats leaving behind a harsh burning feeling. Eye's clenched together tightly, faces being pulled in contortions as they tasted the strong liquor.

'We need more' Bella said with the slam of her hand on the scratched wooden table. Cassie and Carson tagged along with her to the crowded bar, leaving behind Daisy and Justin.

For a moment, the air around them is awkward. Neither of them know what to say to one another, conversation between them felt almost forbidden. Like they were committing a crime they would be punished for later.

'How you been, texas?' Justin starts of the conversation with a caring question.

They saw each other around the frat house often. Small waves and cheap greetings when they passed each other on the stairs as she tagged behind Joe. Bumping into each other in the kitchen as Justin made food and Daisy came down to grab some water. Neither of them lingered around for a conversation.

'I've been good, this semesters work has been rough though' Daisy told him, keeping focus of the topic on something other than Joe.

'How's football? I heard you guys have been playing good this season' Daisy continues.

Justin has to laugh at her understatement. LSU hadn't just been playing good, they had been playing the best college football in the country. They were undefeated, and no one knew a team that would be able to stop them. Every move, every pass of the ball, every touchdown, every play was convincing. Victories looked like early morning strolls through the park, too easy. Justin himself had been incredible, like a magician on the wing scoring touchdown after touchdown.

'Yeah ball's good. Gonna declare for the draft at the end of the season' Justin told her casually.

Daisy's eyes popped open in disbelief. Her brows knitted together in sorrow. She always knew Justin wouldn't complete his full college years but she though he would at least be staying for another. Her heart pounded against her ribcage, sadness welling within her.

'You're leaving' Her words were soaked in sorrow. Leaving from between her plump lips quiet and gently.

'I feel ready' Justin shrugged. 'I'll miss you though, you'll have to come visit. That's if you can stand to watch a football game by then' Justin's words are joking and light hearted. He didn't want to make the night a sad one, not since he knew how excited she had been to see Carson.

'I'll watch you' Daisy told him with a deep sincerity written across her creased forehead. Justin just nodded, noticing the return of Bella, Cassie and Carson with a tray of shots. Shot's they needed desperately to bring the mood back up.

They all grabbed two each and tossed them back.

A long, drunken night lay ahead of them.

-౨ৎ ⋆｡˚ -

Joe's thumb twirled on the joy sticks of his playstation controller and his fingers pressed the buttons violently. Ja'marr shouted at him through the headset as they played an intense game of Fortnite.

'Fuck!' Joe shouted as he died. Ja'marr was left to carry the hopes of the duo.

Joe pulled out his phone as he waited for Ja'marr to either lose or win the game. He scrolled through some social media, ending up reading some twitter posts about his season so far. Most of them were unsurprisingly positive, he was leading the race for the heismann trophy by a long shot. Other than the poor performance against Mississippi, he had been unstoppable. Then he opened up instagram. Aimlessly scrolling without any conscious thought until he saw Justin had posted a story.

Joe's brows furrowed. Ja'marr and him had tried texting Justin earlier but had no response. They even went and knocked on the door to his room to tell him to hop on the game but there was no response there either. They had just assumed he was taking a nap, he hadn't mentioned having plans or anything.

Joe clicked on the story.

When he saw it his stomach tightened in agitation. Displeasure ran through his body as he felt his adrenaline begin to spike. He sat upright in the beat up desk chair he was playing from, causing the joints of it the creak out in the quiet room. Subconsciously, he gripped his phone harder as he took in the image.

His eyes scanned over every detail of the image. It was a photo of Daisy, Justin and Carson. Joe only knew it was Carson because he had been tagged, as had Daisy.

He looked over Carson, recognising him as the guy that had been under many of Daisy's posts. Last name Ford -- clearly a relative of her ex boyfriend Lucas. Even if Joe hadn't have known his last name, he would have been able to tell from the guys appearance. Carson and Lucas looked scarily similar, almost twin-like, the only difference was their hairstyles, Carson's was longer and messy while Lucas' had a medium length mullet with shaven sides.

But Carson wasn't the problem Joe had with the photo.

It was Daisy and Justin.

They looked close. Daisy's back pressed against Justin's chest, her head leaning back on his shoulder. One of Justin's arms loosely wrapped around her. A mysterious drink in his other hand.

They were out, and Joe hadn't been told. His face hardened as his jaw clenched tightly, unable to stop himself looking over at the photo repeatedly. He analysed the way Daisy and Justin were close, bodies touching in a way that could be seen by some as more than friendly, something that looked flirty.

Daisy's eyes were shut, her pose slightly sloppy. Combine that with the cups of alcohol in Justin and Carson's hands, Joe was more than aware that they were all intoxicated. Even knowing that, Joe could not shake the uneasy feeling in his stomach at the fact that they had planned this without him. It felt like a big secret he was left out on, and he was never one to be left out. He was the number one quarterback and one of the most well known guys at LSU. People didn't leave Joe Burrow out.

'Did you know Daisy and Justin were hanging out tonight?' Joe interrogates Ja'marr down the headset. His tone almost accusatory and defensive.

'No way man, y'serious?' Ja'marr asks back, and Joe can tell he truly had no idea.

'Yeah, dude posted a photo with her' Joe tuts as he tells Ja'marr the details while still looking over the story. The place around them looked busy, likely some bar downtown. Red light flashed on their faces, either the flash of a camera or the light of a neon sign.

'Maybe Bella's there' Ja'marr tries to throw out an excuse for Justin. It's an excuse that was plausible. Joe trusted Justin, he knew he wouldn't do anything stupid. Justin wouldn't mess up the dynamic of the football team for the sake of Daisy, but the whole situation still sat uncomfortably in Joe's stomach. The same weird feeling he had been getting came back, clawing at the walls of his organs. A nauseous heat tingling across his skin.

'Yeah, probably' Joe locked his phone, tossed it on the floor beside him and tried to shake away the image that burned deep in his brain. He tried to stop himself seeing Daisy leant against Justin, a loose arm wrapped around her. They were friends, Joe was aware of that. Just friends. The photo was friendly. Joe reassured himself over and over in his head. Justin wouldn't so this to him. Daisy wouldn't do this to him.

But then again, maybe she would.

we're not friends Joey

The words from the bedroom creep back up his spine, only this time they aren't sexual - they're sinister. Daisy didn't owe him loyalty, it wasn't apart of the agreement. Sure, she was meant to stay away from teammates but this was a blurry line. Justin was in her life before she ever knew Joe. If somehow, she had found herself catching feelings for Justin then Joe would have to be the one to step aside. He came second. That's why he tried to keep her away from him. Justin was a threat. As much as Daisy tried to deny it and push it away, it was clear she had a type. Football players.

Joe gulped, the nausea now becoming intense and he couldn't understand why.

'I just checked Cassie's snapchat. Don't sweat man, they're all there' Ja'marr words hit Joe like a ice cold water on a summer afternoon. They cool the heat pricking at his skin, and refresh his blurry mind. His tense shoulders dropped, Justin was there with them all. A friend group night out, that was it.

Even with the new found information, Joe was still left with an unsettling feeling. Dread lingered in his stomach, like something bad was going to happen. It clawed at his skin and nibbled at his neck. A gut feeling that was unshakeble.

Joe went back to the game, loading up a new one in an attempt to ignore the feeling.

Hours past but he still found himself unable to shake it.

-౨ৎ ⋆｡˚ -

The club was steamy, desire burned strongly in the air. The bass thumped from the DJ booth as R&B tunes filled up the room. Red lights flashed across the dance floor. Justin, Cassie and Daisy danced together. Carson had left earlier in the night with a boy he had met at one of the multiple bars they had visited. Bella had to leave when she realised she had an early morning class tomorrow, one she hadn't done any prep for.

The club signified their fifth and final establishment of the night. Liquor clung to their systems as their visions became blurry, footsteps stumbled and words slurred significantly. The three of them were borderline blackout, dangerously drunk. All thoughts and common sense inhibited by the vodka redbulls flushing through their insides.

It felt nice for it to just be the three of them, the original trio.

All night Daisy couldn't shake the fact that this was Justin's last year at LSU. That come summer Justin would be in the league. Most likely in a random city across America, miles away. Next year would feel empty, only now did she realise just how much Justin had come to be someone special in her life.

A yell from Cassie broke her sentimental thoughts.

'I'm gonna go' Cassie's words were heavy and tired, her blue eyes droopy and blood shot. Daisy nodded her head, taking her hand in her own leading her out of the cramped dance floor. Cassie brought up Uber on her phone as she slowly typed in the address of their dorm with squinted eyes.

'Let's all bounce.' Justin suggested. Daisy was about to nod her head, her desire to party was still strong but she couldn't stay out alone, when a hand grabbed the top of her bicep gently.

'Hey' A calm manly voice said from beside her. Her head followed the voice.

'Daniel' She smiled offering him a small hug. Daniel, the guy from the party that Joe had cruelly pushed, embraced her back. His hand rubbed her back sweetly. A warmth filled Daisy's chest. It had been a while since a guy had caressed her in a caring manner, in a way that was more than just for sex.

'This is crazy. Y'know I was thinking about you just this morning' Daniel sleazily flirts, his attitude was slightly different than it had been at the party. He was more confident, more arrogant. Daisy was too drunk to really acknowledge it, she knew something was different but her drunken fingers couldn't place what it was.

Daisy laughed in response, her head shaking every so slightly.

'You want a drink?' Daniel asked her, leaning close into her ear. So close, she could feel his warm breath on her skin and she could smell the alcohol on his breath.

'We're leaving' The authoritative voice of Justin carried through the dense air of the club.

Daniel looked at him, a glint Justin was unable to read in his eye. The look made Justin feel weird, like something wasn't right.

'That's too bad, I was wanting to see you again' Daniel once again flirted with a flushed cheeked Daisy.

'Maybe I could stay' Daisy looked at Justin, almost asking him for permission and reassurance. 'I feel fine, and I wanna dance some more' She continued.

Justin looked at Daniel like a protective brother. His brown eyes harsh scanning the intention behind Daniel's actions. Justin hadn't heard anything bad about the guy, he was just some lacrosse player and he was in one of his friends finance classes. A typical fraternity brother. He looked at Daisy, she was drunk but she wasn't as drunk as Cassie, her words were spoken clearer and there was no sign of a drunken glaze over her sage eyes.

Justin kissed his teeth.

'You're a grown woman, if you wanna stay I trust your judgement, but promise me you'll call if you need somethin'' Justin told her sternly. Daisy nodded her head excitedly, her eyes flicking to Daniel's and then back to Justin's.

Daniel smiled smugly victorious, a wide hand laying on the small of Daisy's back.

'Let's go, Cass' Justin said after he gave Daisy a tight hug goodbye and a stern look. One that let her know once again to be careful and contact him if something felt wrong. Daisy watched them as they disappeared out the front doors of the cramped club.

'So, that drink?' Daniel whispered in her ear, she looked back at him with a cheeky smile and a subtle nod of the head before heading off towards the bar.

-౨ৎ ⋆｡˚ -

The frat boy friends of Daniel stood on the outskirts of the dark and crowded dance floor as Daniel and Daisy danced the night away together. The atmosphere felt weird. Daisy would see them out the corner of her eye, whispering and pointing with each other while their eyes remained on her. The uncomfortable feeling sent shivers down her spine, her hairs stood up on her skin despite the warm temperature of the nightclub.

She had tried to ask Daniel what his friends were talking about but Daniel just got sharply defensive. 'Nothing' He spat at her as he instructed her to just keep dancing. The words and atmosphere were sobering. The sudden realisation of her murky surroundings and poor choice to stay weighed on her mind. Daniel wasn't acting the way he had been at the frat party, the once charming man was no longer that. He was condescending and domineering, patronising and dictatorial. Firm hands gripped on her waist, the sensation almost pinching, leaving behind a painful sting that she didn't enjoy.

She glanced once again at Daniels friends.

They were lined up on the side, each of them with narcissistic grins. They were looking at her like she was simply an item they could objectify, a piece of meat they could devour. Lustful stares tracing her body.

A sense of deep unease thudded in her chest. Her heart hammered against her ribcage as she realised the situation she was in. She needed to get out, she needed to leave the club and do it quickly.

'I got to go pee' She told Daniel, trying to keep her voice sickly sweet and flirtatious as to not alert him.

He rolled his eyes, but let his hands drop from her waist, setting her free.

She rushed to the bathroom, pushing her way through the drunken crowd. Tears welled in her eyes, not from built upon sorrow but panic. The nervous feeling pulsed through every thought and feeling in her body.

When she got inside, she ran cold water over her wrists to try and calm herself down. An effort to try and still the shakes that overtook her body. Then she rushed inside a stall, sliding the stiff lock with a clicking sound. She sat on the toilet seat and rummaged through her bag, picking up her phone.

She tried ringing Justin.

*ring, ring, ring*

No answer

She tried again.

*ring, ring, ring*

No answer. A hushed 'fuck' left her lips, her hands shaking as she scrolled through other contacts. She couldn't contact Cassie, she would be both asleep and useless in a situation like this. Bella would be asleep, and Carson was god knows where.

Her eyes glanced over Ja'marr's name.

She pressed on his contact, then pressed the call button. Her breath was held in her throat and silent prayers to a higher power sounded out through her mind.

*ring, ring, ring*

No answer. She tried him once again, but he didn't pick up.

That's when she saw the contact beneath. Somehow, his name seemed to shine brighter, almost taunting her. She didn't want to call him, especially not since she was here with Daniel but she was out of options.

She clicked on his name, and was about to press the call button when a woman voice shouted through the girls toilets.

'Is there a Daisy in here?, Daniel's waiting by the door for you'

Her heart dropped to her stomach. Her breathing became rapid as panic clung to her lungs. She stayed quiet. The situation had now escalated to dangerous, Daniel was waiting for her like some sort of obsessive stalker.

Without hesitating, she clicked on the call icon under Joe's name.

*ring, ring, ring*

No answer.

'No, no, no, come on' Daisy's words were quiet and shaky. Emotion stuck in her throat as she became aware of just how much she needed his help.

She pressed the call button again.

*ring, ri-* 'Hello?' Joe's confused and groggy voice sounded out through the phone. Daisy let out a heavy breath of relief.

'What you calling me for' Joe was disgruntled by the late night call, one which had clearly awoken him from sleep.

'I need your help' Daisy trembled, each breath shakier than the last as she held back tears. Joe could sense her fear through the phone, and the sound of her voice almost startled him. He had never heard her sound like she did on the phone call. It was enough to make him feel alarmed.

'Why? What's happened, Dais?' Joe's tone is strong and firm yet somehow gentle, not wanting to scare her anymore than she already was. His mind was running at a mile a minute, thinking the worst. Where was Justin? Why was he not with her? Why wasn't he helping her?

Joe had already got out of bed, throwing on some clothes in case he needed to leave.

'There are some guys' Daisy starts, her voice breaking. 'I don't know, Joe. They're acting weird, they're scaring me.' Terror flooded through her cautious voice.

'What guys? Where are you?' Joe pushed further, demanding to know more detail of what was happening.

Daisy let out a wavering breath.

'Daniel and his friends' Daisy's words were soft and low, almost like she was embarrassed to admit them and she feared the reaction she was going to get from Joe.

On the other end of the phone, Joe rolled his eyes. Throwing his head back in anger as he pulled the phone away from his mouth so she wouldn't hear his grumbles of agitation. Of course. Daniel the fucking lacrosse player. Joe thought he had already dealt with him but it appeared not.

He put the phone back to his ear.

'Fuck's sake, Daisy' His tone is almost scolding and it made Daisy sink further into the toilet seat of bathroom stall.

'I'm in the bathroom, I can't leave. He's waiting for me' Her voice, once more, is hushed and shaky. She knows she should have left with Justin, she knows that she had made this night a mess. Guilt crawled up her limbs, scratching at her skin. She hated feeling like an inconvenience and right now, that's how she felt to Joe.

'Where are you?' Joe commanded. Blunt words seething from his tongue. He wasn't angry at Daisy, he was angry at Daniel, he was angry at Justin. He was angry at every decision that had been made for Daisy to end up in the position she was in. If he had been there, none of this would of happened. He would have made sure of it.

'The Social Lounge' Daisy's small voice whispered back to him.

'I'll be there in fifteen, don't leave the bathroom. I'll come get you. Y'understand' Joe grabbed the keys from his desk and slid on some beat up nike trainers, rushing down the stairs of the quiet frat house.

'I understand' Daisy confirmed.

Joe hung up the phone and started up his car. Anger dripped from his skin. Knuckles white as his hands clenched over the leather steering wheel. Adrenaline pumping through his body.

-౨ৎ ⋆｡˚ -

Joe flashed his ID at the bouncer before he pushed his way into the dingy club. He was underdressed, baggy grey sweatpants hanging loosely from his waist and a plain black hoodie draping from his broad shoulders. The only reason he had been let in was because he was Joe Burrow and the club's security were LSU football fans.

He scouted out the place, eyes darting across all the signs as he searched for the women's bathroom.

He could feel eyes on him as people recognised him, he needed to get in and out as quick as possible before drunken students and football fans inevitably started asking him for photos.

In the corner of the dance floor, he notices some guys he recognises. Boys from frat houses down the row from his own. He doesn't know for sure if they were Daniel's friends but he has to assume. He pushes his way closer to them, sliding through open pockets of stumbling people. An intense glare focussed on them, making sure they wouldn't escape him.

When he reaches them, he grabs one of them forcefully by the blue creased shirt he was wearing. The guy looks back at him, eyes wide as he was taken off guard.

'Joe?' The guy talks to him like he knew him. He didn't. Many people thought they knew Joe but very few actually did. Only the small circle of people he allowed in. Sure, he had probably spoke to these guys at a party or three in his time at college but he never cared enough to get their names. These guys were no-ones, they were nothing. People who would reach the peak of their lives in college and then never do anything afterwards. They were losers, Joe didn't surround himself with losers.

'You know Daniel?' Joe snarled at him. A deep growl climbing from the depths of his chest.

The guy nodded quickly, a guilty look flashing briefly across his face as if he already knew what he had done wrong.

'Where?' was all Joe's hoarse voice said.

The guy nodded his head over to the direction of the bathroom. Joe turned his head and spotted him. When he did, he let go of the shirt he was clutching tightly and gave him a light push before he headed back across the dark and heavy dance floor.

Daniel was pacing in front of the door to the women's bathroom. Agitation and impatience evident in each step he took. Lazy hands running through his hair, almost pulling at it as he waited for Daisy. When the door would open, he would try and peek inside to see if he could see her. He was peeking again, when a ominous figure in the corner of his eye interrupted him.

His eyes turned to the figure.

Joe's stood looking at him with a loathing repulsion, his eyes like pointed daggers with fury flaming behind them. Staring at him, up and down.

Daniel's face twists and sours as he finds himself caught red handed. He's lucky there in a club filled with people watching his every move, because had they not been, had they been somewhere more private, something more violent would have played out.

Joe placed a wide hand on the door of the women's bathroom and firmly pushed it open, not looking inside.

'DAISY. LET'S GO' He loudly shouts, his eyes still firmly on the face of Daniel. He watches as the lacrosse players cheeks burn scarlett. Humiliation stinging his skin.

A stall lock clicks open.

Daisy coyly walks out the bathroom door which Joe held open. Her eyes irritated and red from shed tears. She refuses to look in the direction of Daniel, instead she just keeps her head down. Her hands nervously scraped at the broken skin around her cuticles. Joe let the door swing closed. His hand pressed firmly on the small of her back, he guided her through the club and kept her close. His chest hovering against her shoulders, never letting his touch leave her or letting her out of his sight until they exited through the tinted glass doors.

When the biting breeze of the late October night hit, Daisy felt herself breath a deep sigh of relief. A breath she had been holding in her chest for a long time. Joe let his hand drop, no longer did he linger around her protectively. Instead, he walked in front of her to his car he had parked outside.

Daisy followed.

Joe slammed the door to his car as he got inside. Daisy shut her's carefully. The keys turned in the ignition and the dashboard illuminated with various lights.

The environment around them was almost suffocating with tension. Daisy could feel the intense wrath vibrating off him as he clenched his palms around the steering wheel.

'Thank you' Daisy uttered shyly, glancing at Joe only briefly as he drove her home. Joe didn't reply, only causing the tension between them to build.

Minutes of silence went by like hours.

'I'm sor-' She tried to break the thick silence between them once again.

'Don't Daisy.' Joe shut her down. Dull blue eyes focussed only on the road. He was in no mood to talk about it. She needed him, he turned up. That was it. She didn't need to apologise, no matter how much the events of the night had annoyed him. and they had. The night had cut him deep, an aching through his bones. Why was she with Daniel? He didn't think he wanted to know why. It served as a stark reminder of what the situation between them was -- no strings, no attachment. Daisy didn't think about Joe, and Joe wouldn't let himself think about her.

They were good sex, and nothing beyond that.

She kept quiet the rest of the journey. Her teeth biting at her swollen lips, ripping at the thin skin. Her puffy eyes only looking at the passing streetlights illuminating the night sky. Alcohol numbing her body, mind and soul. Tiredness gnawing at her aching limbs.

She just wanted to be back at campus, tucked into a warm bed and to forget this mess of a night ever existed.

-౨ৎ ⋆｡˚ -

Joe swung his car around the corner of campus, driving past the dorms where Daisy lived. He felt her look at him, he saw her head snap confusingly towards him but he just kept his eyes forward.

She could stay with him tonight. It was the only way Joe could think of making her feel safe, the scared shaky voice of her phone call repeated constantly in his mind.

He pulled up to his place, parking the car in the usual spot.

They walked into the frat house together, although Daisy lingered behind. Her feet dragged against the floor. She felt like a scolded child, yet Joe's actions were anything but scolding. He had picked her up from an uncomfortable situation, protected her and now had brought her back to his home.

Once again, his signal's were blurry and difficult to make sense of.

He grabbed two waters from the refrigerator and handed her one. She offered him a half smile, a cowered and guilty one.

Footsteps made her look up and Joe turn around. Both of them wondering who would be awake in the house so late at night.

'Daisy?' Justin's concerned voice called out as he saw her, he noticed the swollen and bloodshot eyes, the puffy cut up lips and the timid exterior.

'What happened?' Justin's voice was unsteady with nerves. Guilt flickered across his face and his eyebrows folded in shame. He had been taking a shower when she called him, he had tried to phone her back but there was no answer.

Daisy opened her mouth to reply, to let him know it was nothing and that he shouldn't worry himself, but Joe beats her to it.

'You left her alone in a fuckin' club, that's what happened' Joe snapped, words sharply flying from his mouth and hitting an already guilt stricken Justin like hard jabs to the stomach.

Joe looked over his shoulder, his worn blue eyes meeting Daisy's properly for the first time since he picked her up from the club. He almost winced seeing how red and pain filled they were. Just because their arrangement was casual and transactional, didn't mean he didn't care for her on a human level. She had been frightened, the image he created in his mind of her hidden in a dirty bathroom stall only made the feeling grow stronger. He nodded his head in the direction of the deep wooden staircase. An instruction that she should go up them.

It was an instruction she followed.

Her jittery hand placed on the dark bannister to aid her up the stairs which in this moment seemed steeper than ever. She offered a sympathetic smile and kind doe eyes to Justin, who stood below, watching her walk away from him. He felt horrible, she could see it written across his face and the guilt ate at her bones. Justin didn't need to feel guilty, she was an adult, who made a decision to stay in a place she shouldn't have, with people she barely knew. If anyone was to be blamed it was her.

'Fuckin' stupid' Joe muttered under his breath, kicking Justin when he was down before he stomped up the stairs behind Daisy.

-౨ৎ ⋆｡˚ -

When they woke up the next day, the night before ceased to exist. Joe not wanting to know the details of the night and Daisy not wanting to tell him.

An unspoken agreement that it would be swept under the rug.

Daniel and his fraternity had been blacklisted from all events Joe and his own fraternity were involved in. That meant that Daisy would likely never have to see them again, and for that she was eternally grateful. Joe had made the phone calls in the morning, while a hungover and anxiety riddled Daisy listened from the warmth of his deep blue bed sheets. That was all that was said about the night.

Then they spent the rest of the day together, casual sex and video games taking up the lazy hours. In the evening, she left discreetly through the back door of the fraternity. A text from Carson letting her know that he was back on campus pulled her from Joe's bed. She headed back across campus to her dorm, meeting up with Cass and Carson. A full detailed debrief of the night before taking place.

Then, all attention turned to preparations for the biggest party of the year, almost every student on campus would be there.

Come Friday night, lines of people and packed crowds in fancy dress would crawl house to house as each fraternity threw a colourful rager.

Come Friday night, it was Halloween.

౨ৎ

[daydreaming-nerd]

Lipstick Kisses (Azriel x Female! reader)

AN: while I LOVED my last Azriel fic I felt kinda bad about how it ended to so even though this was supposed to be a Cassian fic I thought I would switch it up just to say I’m sorry lol 

Summary: You and Azriel weren’t together. But you also weren’t not together. Sure he warmed your bed nightly, but he had made it clear that he was hesitant to date his best friend, Rhysand’s, little sister. You were content to play the game until one night a certain princess got so far under your skin you couldn’t see straight. 

Warnings: jealousy, unprotected sex, cockwarming if you squint? 

Word Count: 2496

(all pics are from pinterest) 

Rita’s had never been so busy before. Packed from wall to wall with members of every court here to celebrate the week leading up to Starfall. A tradition my brother had long since put on. Everyone seemed to be merry and happy, even Azriel who stood at the bar with the Princess of Adriata. 

Azriel and I had been hot and heavy for a couple of months. My whole life the shadowsinger and I had danced around one another, flirting here and there but never acting. It wasn’t until one night when I ran into the spymaster in the hallway of the House of Wind, when we couldn’t stay away from one another. It was a mess of hands, teeth, tongues and kisses as he took me against the wall. From that moment on Azriel sought to warm my bed nightly, but nothing more and I never thought to ask him why for fear of losing him. We weren’t together, weren’t not together. And I had no right to stare daggers at the Princess of Adriata, yet here I stood, at the edge of the room doing just that. 

“Looking a little tense there y/n,” Cassain drawled, nudging my shoulder. 

“I am not tense,” I gritted out. 

“Then why does it look like you’re about to shatter that glass with your bare hand?” he retorts. I look to where my polished fingers are gripping my cocktail in rage. 

“I’m just scared someone is going to knock my drink out of my hand, it’s super busy in here,” I say, loosening my grip on the glass. 

Cassian let out a chuckle, “You sure it has nothing to do with the way Az is looking at the Princess of Adriata?” he smirked. While Az and I hadn’t told anyone about our nightly escapades, poor Cassain was practically forced to have the knowledge as his room was next to mine. 

I meet Cassian’s eyes in a sideways glare causing him to laugh again. 

“Of course he wants The Princess of Adriata,” I sneer at her name. 

“You’re a Princess too y/n,” Cassian reminds me.

“Yeah well apparently not the right type,” I huff, turning around so I don’t have to watch them smile and flirt anymore. 

“You should get him back,” Cassian muses. 

“If you’re trying to take me into your bed again it won’t work.” I laugh while sipping my drink, remembering a different drunken night, or a few of them, that Cassian and I had shared at Rita’s. 

“You wound me Princess, you can’t say you didn’t enjoy yourself all those years ago,” he smirked, bumping my shoulder again. 

“Illyrians really are sensitive babies. Now what kind of revenge did you have in mind?” I smirk into my glass. 

“You got some red lipstick in that bag?” his eyes gleamed. 

I rummage around through the mess of trinkets in my purse till I find the red rouge sitting in the bottom and pull it out. “Looks like I do,” I say, holding it up for him to see. 

“Perfect, now put it on,” he says standing in front of me so I can use his siphon as a mirror as I always had for years anytime I needed to fix my makeup or hair. He used to hate it, but now I think it makes him feel special. 

“I fail to see where this is going,” I contest putting the lipstick back in my bag. 

Cassian didn’t say anything, he just pointed to his cheek asking for me to kiss it. I rolled my eyes and obliged. When I pulled back a bright red lipstick stain adorned his cheek and I realized what he was doing now. 

“Cassian, you're a genius,” I laugh. 

“Well I am a specialist in war tactics after all. Now go around and say hello to every Lord in here and greet them with one of your sweet kisses. The second Az looks around he’s going to lose his mind.” he explains. 

“Thanks Cass,” I laugh before turning away but I feel his hand on my arm. 

“I think I might deserve a little more thanks than that Princess,” he says playfully.

“Fine you big baby,” I roll my eyes before placing a quick kiss on his lips seeing the lipstick residue there. 

“You’re welcome princess,” he smirks triumphantly before turning away.

I turn to the crowd of people in front of me scanning the hundreds of happy faces packed into the tavern. Like a beacon of hope I find Thesan conversing with two other Lords, the perfect target. 

“Thesan!” I cheer, “My brother and I are honored to have you here in our court,” I greet him sweetly, pressing a discreet kiss to his cheek.    

“Princess it’s always a pleasure to be in your presence,” Thesan smiles warmly. “May I present Lord Baylor and Lord Suffolk.” 

Both Lords reach their hands out to mine and I push them away, “Please I’ve never been fond of handshakes,” I smile gently, embracing each of them and pressing kisses to their cheeks as well. 

“We are honored to be here Princess y/n, the stories of your beauty still don’t do you justice,” Lord Baylor smiled.  

“You all flatter me too much, it’s going to go straight to my head,” I tease playfully before excusing myself to mingle with the other lords.       

I continue my charade until my drink empties and I’m forced to retreat to the bar for another. I be sure to pass right by where Azriel and The Princess of Adriata are talking before leaning against the bartop and requesting my regular. I try to hide the smirk when I feel a certain scarred hand graze my elbow. 

“Is there a reason why those red lips have been on the cheek of every man here tonight Princess?” Azriel says lowly into my ear. 

“I’m just being a good host Az,” I say, not keeping my eye off the bartender making my drink. 

“More than good the way I see it,” he grits and his hands trace the backs of my arms. The bartender brings my drink over and I leave a large tip in his jar. I finally turn to meet Azriel’s intense gaze. 

“Don’t be so jealous Azriel, after all we aren’t even together,” I tilt my head before sauntering off. 

When I get back to the House of Wind that night I’m utterly exhausted. I open the door to my bedroom and kick my shoes off sending them flying across the room. My dress is the next to go, falling in a pile on the floor. I wash up, and slip on my nightgown before falling into my bed with a sigh, too lazy to turn off the small fae light next to me. I try to sleep but it’s not the same without a certain Illyrian next to me. 

A half hour later I hear the door open slowly, I pretend to still be asleep not wanting to even speak to Azriel. When I had left Rita’s he was still talking with The Princess of Adriata, and this time she had a hand on his bicep.

I heard daggers and leathers falling to the ground as the bed sank behind me. 

“Scooch over Princess, there's no room for me,” he whispered into my ear as his arms circled around me to move me over. 

“Get off me Az, I don’t remember inviting you to my bed tonight,” I grumble, not moving an inch. 

He doesn’t move, “I’ve been sleeping here for three months y/n what do you mean?” 

“I mean, I don’t want The Princess of Adriata’s sloppy seconds sleeping in my bed, now go to your own room,” I huff, slamming my head down on my pillow for emphasis. 

Azriel scoffs, “This is about Cressida?” he asks in disbelief. 

“Oh good for you, you’re on a first name basis with the oh so perfect princess,” I say donning the same mocking tone I used to Cassian. 

“You do know that you’re also a Princess,” he smiled, pressing a kiss to my shoulder. 

“So I’ve heard,” I roll my eyes, moving my shoulder away from him. “Now get out.” 

“Y/n, I didn’t sleep with her,” Azriel says, pressing another kiss to my shoulder.

“Yeah right,” I scoff. 

“She did try, but I told her I was seeing someone,” he continued kissing my arm. 

“Oh really?” I sneer. 

“Yes my love,” he smiled, pressing a kiss to my cheek. “You.”  

“I thought you didn’t want to be with me, I thought you just wanted to fuck me,” I grumble trying not to enjoy his lips on my body. 

“I never said that,” he states and I can feel his agitation. 

“Well you didn’t not say it either, what am I supposed to think when I only see you at night?” I argue. 

“Fine, I’ll admit it, I was scared.” he grumbled, moving to lean back on the pillows. 

I sit up to face him and find him pressing the heels of his hands into his forehead like he has the largest migraine to ever be known to man. 

“Scared of what?” I scoff in disbelief. He was Azriel, my spymaster and a shadowsinger. I had seen his fierceness on a battlefield countless times, seen him slaughter enemies of my court. What could possibly scare him?

“I was scared that one day you’d wake up and realize what I truly am, a lowborn nobody. You’re a princess for gods sakes y/n. The most beautiful woman in Prythian. You should be with a prince like Varian, not me. And even though I knew that I couldn’t stay away from you. You smell so good and your skin is so soft and the way you look at me sometimes? It would’ve taken all seven High Lords to keep me from your bed, especially when you invite me to it so willingly. I was scared that if we made our relationship something more than just pleasure that you would realize that, and that’s a blow I couldn’t handle.” Azriel confessed, finally ripping his hands off his forehead to stare at the ceiling.  

“Azriel I-” 

“It’s okay you don’t have to say anything,” he sighed, getting out of bed. 

“Az,” I plead, but he keeps walking.

 “Azriel stop!” I scream not the request of a lover, but the order of a princess. I see his wings twitch as he stops moving, still not turning to meet my eye. 

“Azriel I love you,” I confess. 

He whips around to meet my eyes, using his years of reading people to try and decipher whether or not I’m telling the truth. He finds no trace of a lie and before I know it he’s standing over the bed and bringing his lips to mine. His knees sink to the bed and I use his off balance to push him down into the pillows so I can straddle his lap. 

“Do you mean it?” he asks as I lean back to look at him, his eyes blown out and on cloud nine. 

“I’ve loved you for years Az, just ask my brother. When I thought you didn’t want to do anything but bed me my heart was broken, but I was willing to take whatever I could get.” I explained. 

“You have all of me y/n,  you always will,” he smiles, leaning up to kiss me. “But I’m still mighty jealous of all those lipstick prints, especially the ones I saw on Cassian.” he smirks against my skin. 

“I think I can make it up to you,” I smile before reaching over to my bedside table to retrieve the lipstick from my discarded clutch. I keep our eyes locked as I put the cherry red color all over my lips and I swear I feel his cock twitch under me. 

I lean down to leave a kiss on his cheek, then his forehead, his jaw, his chin and then I give the other side of his face the same treatment. I move my lips down either side of his neck earning a low groan from him. I smile and continue my assault all over his bare chest and shoulders. 

“Fuck y/n,” he moans and I can tell he’s trying not to flip me over and pound me into the mattress. 

I leave lipstick marks all over his abs and when I reach his boxers I pull the waistband down just enough to leave a kiss right above his aching cock. 

“Fuck this I need to be inside you,” he grunts and I’m quickly being hauled up by my arms and tossed on my back. Within moments he slams his cock inside me. 

“Oh fuck Azriel!” I scream, raking my nails down his back. 

The room is filled with the sound of skin slapping as Azriel thrusts inside me at a brutal pace. Both seeking his own pleasure and to claim. 

“Your turn Princess,” he smirks before sucking the skin of my neck into his mouth. My hands fly to his hair pulling him closer to me as his teeth sink into my neck.

“Azriel,” I breathe into his ear and he spurs his hips even faster. I feel him leave a light lick soothing the skin he bit into. 

“Mine,” he growls before leaning back to admire his work. He lifts my legs and puts them over his shoulders to hit me even deeper making my eyes roll to the back of my head. 

“Azriel!” I scream practically in subspace. 

“That’s right Princess, let everyone know who owns this little pussy,” he grins with male pride. 

“Yours Az all yours,” I breathe, unable to find my words.

“Good girl,” he says before reaching down to rub circles into my clit. The sudden sensation is enough to have me arching my back and cumming on his cock, a string of curses and his name falling off my lips.

Azriel continues thrusting into me seaking his own pleasure before spilling into me with a moan that practically shakes the doors. His head burrows into my neck and I run my hands through his hair pressing kisses to his face. I look up at him to see the lipstick marks all over him and I can’t help but laugh. 

He rolls us to the side taking me with him so his cock is still inside me. 

“Do you think Rhys is gonna kill me when he finds out?” Azriel asks jokingly but I can tell he’s genuinely wondering. 

“Well he was pissed at Cassian but he got over it so I’d say we’re good,” I sigh tracing the lipstick marks left on his chest. 

“Wait, you slept with Cassian?” he asks, stunned. 

“Yeah like 105 years ago, you didn’t know?” I laugh. 

“No I didn’t,” he says, throwing his arms around me and standing up making sure his cock doesn’t leave its spot nestled inside me.

“What are you doing?” I giggle playing with his hair as I feel my back hit  the far wall of my room. 

“Fucking you against Cassian’s bedroom wall,” he smirks kissing me deeply. “Gotta let him know we’re official now.” 

[cleopatra-x]

The Garden (18+)

Pairing | Aemond Targaryen x female reader

Summary | An heated argument in the gardens with your husband leads to something else.

Warnings | SEXUAL CONTENT - MINORS DNI; oral (f receiving), exhibitionism, spanking, rimming (f receiving), hair pulling, aegon making a small appearance

word count | 1.5k

Notes | The reader is a Martell but you may imagine her however you see fit. Please don't put a community label on this.

“You are unbelievable,” you grumble loud enough for him to hear, stalking away from your husband, to annoyed to be in his presence.

It’s been a year since you and your husband have been wed. Leaving your home in Dorne was not easy, but with time Kings Landing became your second home. Your marriage with Prince Aemond has been a dream come true. Despite him being cold in the beginning. He was always understanding of you, caring, and catering to your every need.

But sometimes he did things you hated. Like, making decisions without consulting you. The both of you are a pair, you felt you should be included.  

As you enter the gardens, you are greeted by the fresh scent of flowers and the sound of rustling leaves. The sun was beginning to dip below the horizon, the sky transforming into a canvas of vibrant colors.

You could hear his heavy footsteps catch up to yours, “Stop making a scene,” He gripped your forearm, causing you to face him.

“Let’s go back inside.” He attempts to stay calm, although you could tell he was ready to pounce.

You scoffed, releasing your arm from his tortuous grip. “It’s like you to back down from a fight.”

Not being able to stop your rouge tongue, your blood boiling at the fact that he’s always so calm. You wanted him to lose control.

He fixes you with a curious stare and tilts his head to the side, studying you intently as you stand there. “You want a fight?”

You can’t help but let your eyes wander his prominent Adam’s apple as he swallows heavily, framed by the shades of orange and red hat colored the sky. Whether it was just from him sleeping, reading, or doing basic activities, the very sight of your husband always made our stomach churn. You were obsessed.

Aemond takes a step closer towards you, and you put your hands on your hips, standing your ground. You glance around the deserted garden, knowing it was most inappropriate to be this close in public, even as man and wife.

“You are clearly aroused by this, my love.” His voice noticeably dropped an octave as he corned you.

My love. A static hot shiver slides down your spine. Your arousal seeping out of you, to trail down your thighs. You look down at the ground as a silent confirmation, suddenly not having the courage to look him in the eye.

His grin widens into that rare, arrogant face he typically reserves for when you're pleading for him in bed.

“Turn around” he commands, his hands clasped behind his back, waiting for your movement.

“Aem-,” you begin, your eyes widening in pure shock. Aemond was not the kind to do such things in public. Everything was saved for the privacy of your martial chambers.

He dares to take another step closer, your breasts now pressed up against his chiseled chest. “don’t make me repeat myself, dōnus riñus.” Sweet girl.

You tuck your bottom lip between your teeth, before turning your body away from him. Your chest heaved heavily at the thought of what’s to come. You could not believe that he would touch you where anyone could see.

You grip onto the wooden edge of a picnic bench; you knew that you should prepare yourself before he ruts into you.

You hear your husband drop to his knees behind you, causing you to turn your head to glance at him. His eyepatch abandoned onto the stone ground, the sapphire that sat in his empty socket, shining in the sunlight. You clenched down on nothing at the sight.

More often than not, Aemond would bring you to release with his tongue or fingers, but never from behind. You would always look upon his face. You audibly swallowed, opening your mouth to protest.

“Do I have to keep telling you, wife?” A slap to your backside caused you to let out a high-pitched, breathy whimper. You chew on your lip once again, before turning back around.

You feel him lift your dress up, settling it at your hips. Both of his hands grabbed your ass cheeks, pulling them apart and exposing you.  The wind grazing against your most sensitive parts had you whimpering. Your hips rolled against the air, seeking out any kind of friction. He groaned from behind you, squeezing your cheeks.

“You’re fucking dripping.” His finger ran up the back of your thigh until it ghosted over your cunt, collecting some of your slick. He popped a finger in his mouth and swirled his tongue around it, making sure it was nice and clean. “Gods, I can’t get enough of how you taste.”

You gripped the edge of the bench, trying to compose yourself. 

Aemond slapped your bottom again, making you jolt forward. He placed a hand on your lower back, bending you over the bench. 

You let out a shocked moan the second you felt Aemond lick up from your sopping wet cunt all the way up to your puckered, brown hole. You squeezed your eyes closed, embarrassment flooding through you as you moaned loudly. It was always lewd when Aemond fucked you, but this was new and entirely improper.

A stinging slap was served to your backside, causing your eyes to snap open. “You know you like it.” Aemond mumbled behind you, the vibrations of his voice sending a shiver down your spine.

“Aemond, please.” Your eyes rolled in the back of your head just as the tip of his tongue circled your tight hole. Your husband is a patient man, he could tease you for hour on end, if he truly wanted. It was dirty and disgusting, yet you feel your stomach clenching from the extreme pleasure.

You were mewling freely now and attempted to sneak a hand between your soaked thighs to relieve the ache. Aemond slapped it away immediately, a silent warning to not do it again.

Aemond finally wrapped his lips around your pearl. “Oh- yes!” You reached a hand around and held into the back of his head, grinding your hips back against his exploring tongue. 

“Mm, mhm.” He couldn’t say much, but Aemond was showing just how much he loved the taste of you. Letting his tongue dip into your cunt for a moment before licking up towards your ass, getting it all nice and wet with his spit. 

Aemond was slurping, licking, and sucking. He was doing everything just right and you felt as if you were in heaven. You aren’t certain how he can much air with his face pressed so deeply against you, but you cared naught. Not when you felt this good.

The hand you had in Aemond’s hair pulled at silver strands. “So good, Aemond, so fucking good!” 

It was hard to keep your balance and not fall straight to your knees. The pleasure was growing and you could feel your release fast approaching, making your toes curl in your shoes.

Aemond knew you were close too, and he wanted to feel you spill all over his face. He pulled your folds apart and suckled your pearl back into his mouth, shaking his head side to side, letting his teeth barely graze it. 

Your pearl throbbed in his mouth as your stomach caved in, your wanton moans loud and clear for anyone to hear. You were humping his face, needing everything he had to offer.

“I-Im close!” You were afraid that Aemond would stop, edge you until you couldn’t take it anymore. But he let you speak, kept sucking at your pearl like his life depended on it, making obscene slurping noises. 

You squeezed your eyes shut and slammed your hand on the bench, spilling yourself on his tongue. It was taking its time running through you, letting you feel every bit of pleasure it had to give. “Fuck, fuck!” 

He drunk every last bit of your spend, groaning at the taste. “So delicious.” He spanked you again before standing on his feet again.

Your brain turned the mush, vision blurry, barely registering your husband’s words. Your thighs shook as he pulled your dress back down. He snaked his arms around you, helping you stand up straight.

Aemond wiped his mouth before pressed a loving kiss to your temple, parting his lips to speak.

“Yet, you call me depraved.”

Both you and Aemond turn to the unwanted voice behind you and you were met with eyes of his brother, Aegon.

A pang of cold sweat ran through you as your heart dropped to your gut. Has he been there the whole time? Did he see everything? Will he tell everyone?

You watched as Aemond’s lips pursed into a tine line. If looks could kill, you were sure Aegon Targaryen would be long gone.

“Get the fuck out of here,” Aemond seethed. “Before I kill you.”

Aegon drunkenly giggled before taking a sip of wine from his giblet. He turned his back not before mumbling, “Can’t even enjoy a stroll in the garden these days.”

You wished you could vanish into a hole at that very moment.

[balkanradfem]

I'm reading the 'Age of Surveillance Capitalism' book by Shoshana Zuboff, and it is haunting me, making me feel uncomfortable and making me want to move offline.

We've all been aware that google, facebook, and all other digital tech companies are taking our data and selling it to advertisers, but according to the book, that is not the end goal.

The book goes into the rise of google, and how it made itself better by constantly studying the searches people were inputting, and learning how to offer better information faster. Then, they were able to develop ways to target adverts, without even selling the data, but by making their own decisions of what adds should be targeted at what audience. But they kept collecting more and more data, and basically studying human behaviour the way scientists study animals, without their knowledge or consent. Then they bought youtube, precisely because youtube had such vast amounts of human behaviour that could be stored and studied.

But they're not only using that data to target adds at us. They've been collecting data in ways that feel unexpected and startling to me. And whenever they're challenged or confronted with it, they pretend it was a mistake, or unintentional, and it's scary how far they've been able to get away with it.

For example, during their street-view data collecting, the google car had been connecting to every wifi available and taking encrypted, personal data from households. When they got found out, they've explained it was not intentional, and a fault of a lone researcher who had gone rouge, and they evaded getting sued or being held accountable for it at all. Countries have created new laws and regulations and google kept evading it and in the end they claimed 'you know if you keep trying to regulate us, we'll just do things secretly'. Which is a wild thing to say and expect to get away with!

Another thing that struck me was that governments, which at first wanted to restrict data collection, later asked tech companies to monitor and prevent content connected to terrorism, and the companies didn't like the idea of being a tool of the government, so they claimed the terrorism data is being banned for 'being against their policy'. Which makes me believe they didn't want to remove that content at all, after all, they could have done it beforehand, they didn't feel any natural incentives to do so.

The entire story is filled with researchers who don't seem to experience the human population as other human beings. They don't believe we deserve privacy, or dignity, or any say in what is being collected or done to us. Hearing their quotes and how they describe the people they're researching shows clearly they consider us all stupid, and our desires for privacy, self-harming. They insist we'd be better off if we just accepted their authority and gave them any data they wanted without complaining or being upset it's being collected without our knowledge.

Even though companies claim at all times that the data is non-identifiable, the book explains just how data is handled and how easy it is to identify anyone whose private conversations are recorded; people say their names, their addresses, places they're going, friends they're meeting, they say names of their family members, their devices record their location and their habits, it is extremely easy to identify anyone whose information has been collected. It can be identified and sold to information agencies.

I believed when it was explained to me that most of the data collection was just for add targeting, and that it would be used only for advertisement purposes, but they're not only collecting data anymore, they're deciding what data is being fed to us, and recording our reactions, learning how they can affect and manipulate our behaviour. We know all algorithms feed us controversial, enraging and highly-emotional content in order to drive engagement, but it's more than that. They've discovered how they can influence more or less people to vote. The mere idea of that makes me go cold, but they talk about it like it's just another thing they can do, so why not? Companies who have experimented and learned so much about influencing human behaviour give themselves the right to influence it as they see fit, because why wouldn't they? Since they have the power to do it, and all lawsuits and regulations can't stop them, why wouldn't they make a game out of it?

I can't imagine how many experiments they did before feeling so confident and blase about this and casually influencing the elections, again, seemingly just for the sake of an experiment.

The book compares this type of behaviour manipulation to totalitarianism and surveillance state, and it shows how the population is slowly losing parts of their freedoms without realizing it is even happening. Human behaviour has changed due to online influence, and it keeps changing rapidly, with every new popular website that is influencing human behaviour. They've learned that humans are influenced mostly by behaviour of other humans, and they can decide what kind of content or influence to send our way to get desired results.

I love how the author of the book talks about humanity. She uses the term 'human future', as something we all have the right to, as opposed to future controlled by companies and influences. She describes how regular people were affected by the data collected against their will, and how they fought for their 'right to be forgotten', when google kept displaying their past struggles, damaging their dignity. She also explains the questions people should ask about how society is led: First question is, who knows? Second question, who decides? Third question, who decides who decides? She goes in detail about how the answers are held away from us, and what it does to us. She also touches very deeply on the idea of human freedom!

I recommend this book, even though it will make you feel far less secure and carefree to be online, and using anything google, facebook, twitter or any of their owned services. They are not free, and it's also incorrect to say that we're the product of them, but we are the source of the raw materials they collect in order to gain results.

[lunarago]

✧ Adularescence ✧

Knuckles x Rouge body swap journey told from the perspective of Knuckles.

SUMMARY: After a stormy blowup with Rouge on the night of his birthday, Knuckles awakes to find he’s traded places with her. Is this some sort of cruel prank or does the Master Emerald have something to do with this? Thrust into Rouge's world, Knuckles will be forced to contend with new perspectives and swallow his pride if he's to find a way to reverse the swap and return to Angel Island. Finding an unexpected ally amidst the mix-up, Knuckles will find out the hard way that they may be more to the meddling bat than meets the eye…

CHAPTER COUNT: 30

WARNING: Referenced/implied SA, referenced/implied self-harm, feminist themes, other ships not mentioned in tags. See A/N in Prologue on AO3 for more detail.

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Hello everyone! I’m lunarago. I needed a place to upload my cover art for my fanfic, so I might as well turn it into a shameless self-promo post. I hope to connect with more Knuxouge fans since I am new to Tumblr (at least, I haven’t used it since 2013…). I’m a little old-fashioned if you can’t already tell.

I’m currently updating this fanfic every weekend. Should I stick to my schedule, the full story should be uploaded by the end of April 2025.

As this is my first fanfic, I welcome any feedback and comments on either platform. I love to hear the thoughts of readers regarding the story’s content and humbly request you read with an extra eye 👁️

Thank you!

[bullet-prooflove]

5000 Follower Celebration: Death In A Tarot Card - Duke Crocker x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989 @of-mice-and-mirth @bunnybarnes1917 @princessmermaid1289 @jeysbae

Companion piece to:

The Finder - Haven has away of giving you what you need even when you don't know what you're looking for.

The List - Duke makes a list of the reasons you should stay with him.

Baggage - You coax Duke to tell you about his baggage.

Everything (NSFW) - You are everything to Duke.

Love Bite - Duke loves wearing the marks of your love.

Another (NSFW) - Duke wants to make sure you forget any other man.

Come Home - Duke travels to Nova Scotia to bring you home.

Layby - Duke and you take a moment in the aftermath of everything that's happened.

Stars (NSFW) - You and Duke spend a night under the stars.

Duke hasn’t told you about the tarot card, the one that he keeps tucked in the visor of his Jeep because he doesn’t want you find it on the Cape Rouge.  

When Elspeth had handed it to him, he had laughed because the Death card, it never really means what it says but then he’d seen the look in her eyes and he realised her Trouble, it’s a lot more literal than most.

“How long?” He had asked her.

“Months at most.” She’d said as her fingers traced over the illustration of his death sentence. “The cards, they don’t tend to draw these things out.”

When he makes it back to the Rouge that night, he doesn’t say anything when he steps through the door, he simply kisses you and that kiss…

It’s everything to him in that moment and Duke, he knows exactly what he has to do.

When you wake up the next morning, it’s to a cup of Earl Grey on the nightstand and an engagement ring on his pillow case. It’s an antique piece, silver with onyx stones set into the clasps. You smile as he takes your hand and places it on your finger.

“Will you?” He asks, his voice a little rough as he looks into your eyes.

“Of course.” You grin, your hands threading through his hair as you draw him back down into bed with you. He spends the morning inside you, making you sure you know exactly how much he loves you before he falls asleep tangled up in the sheets.

It’s a couple of hours later you slip away. You hop into his Jeep with the intention of heading to that bakery he likes when you pull down the visor to block out the sun and you find that tarot card and in that moment everything just falls into place.

You take your own out of your bag and study it alongside his.

Two years ago when you rolled into Haven, you’d found yourself in Elspeth’s shop and she’d given you your own tarot card. The Lovers.

“You’re going to meet man.” She’d told you as she pushed the card towards you. “A rogue and you’re going to fall in love with him, he’s going to give you a home right here on the water and for a time you’ll be happy, the happiest you’ve ever been.”

You’d met Duke Crocker the very next day, ended up living with him on the Cape Rouge.

It’s only now as you recall those words that you realise how temporary they sound.

You wonder if Elspeth had known Duke’s fate when she’d given your own card, if she’d known it would end in tragedy. You sigh as you tuck your card in alongside Duke’s underneath the elastic in the visor.

Whatever comes, the two of you, you’ll handle it together, just like a husband and wife should.

Love Duke? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Interested in supporting me? Join my Patreon for Bonus Content!

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[kravinoffswife]

Red Hood x fem!reader (Bridgerton AU) Part 2

Part one

AN: This took me way too long to write! I've already started on part 3, so that should be up in a couple days :)

@theendofthematerialgworl @little-miss-naill @phiauniverse

Warnings: AFAB reader, references to sex and flirting, a bit of touching, use of [y/n].

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Four balls. You had endured four balls without any sign of the mysterious Lord Todd, and before each one you would spend hours getting ready. Your hair would be done in meticulous curls, lips dabbed with the slightest of rouge, each dress complimenting your figure and complexion. You had been getting stares, invitations to dance and even visitations from male suitors at your Uncle's London estate. However, you did not seem to care for any of these men, much to your Aunt's distress. None of them were him; the man who had so rudely caught your fancy.

"But [y/n], Lord Hawthorne is quite the catch. His estate in the country is quite vast. Lots of rolling hills and blossoming trees, so I hear." Aunt Gertrude nagged as you sat in the carriage on the way to the next ball of the ton. Her whining fell on deaf ears for you were far more interested in the sound of trees billowing in the early evening breeze. You let out the occasional non-committal 'mhm' to placate her which she took as permission to continue.

"Lord Rickers has a manor in Cornwall. I believe you would like it by the coast. Some sea air would do you some good,[y/n], my dear."

"Yes, I am quite fond of the seaside, Aunt Gertrude." You said unenthusiastically.

"There's also Lo-" She was cut off by the carriage coming to halt. Thank goodness, you thought to yourself.

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The ball was in full swing; dancing, music, snide gossip. You sighed, preparing to once again delve into a world that you felt you did not fully belong in. If you had your way you would have kept to the corners of the room and been content with being an observer rather than a protagonist. Unfortunately, your aunt was defined by her ability to meddle and had your dance card full. So you found yourself doing your best attempt at the Quadrille. At the turn of the hour you had given up hope of Lord Todd's arrival. You speculated that he was a recluse who rarely ventured past the constricts of his home. Yes, that was the only explanation. For why would a perfectly eligible batchelor miss out on the chance to choose a bride? Perhaps for the same reason that you were not interested in any of the men that you waltzed with; because your intrigue had been captured by another.

The mundanity of the ball melted away when he entered your vicinity.

"Miss [l/n]." He took his hand in yours and kissed the back of it gently, though his face displayed a smug grin. "May I have this dance?"

"Well, I am supposed to be dancing with . . ." You peer down to look at your dance card. "Lord Roberts."

"What a shame for Lord Roberts, for if I am not to dance with you right this second, it will surely ruin the rest of my evening."

"Perhaps, I do not care if your evening is ruined, Lord Todd."

His arm snaked around her waist and pulled her flush against him, far too close for societal standards but it not seem to matter to him.

He spoke against her neck, his warm breath teasing the delicate skin. "Oh, but I think you do care, very deeply. Now once more I will ask, will you dance with me?" Shock rendered her unable to do anything but nod.

The pair descended upon the dance floor. His eyes were laser focussed on the curve of her cheek, which was rapidly turning rosy, while hers where on his shoes.

"Not so bold now, are you, my lady?" Jason said lowly. "I eagerly await a display of that debauchery that you were so happy to tell me about last time we met."

She looked around anxiously to check that no one heard him.

"We should not speak of such around others."

"Then maybe we should continue this conversation elsewhere."

"Like where?" You felt slightly ashamed of your curiosity.

"My estate isn't far from here. How about we pay it a visit?" His hand drifted lower so that it now rested on your hip. You let out a soft mewl.

"Yes, I should like to inspect your . . . grounds."

"Then it is settled. Shall we?" He was already leading you away from the dance floor and prying eyes.

"What shall I tell my aunt?" You looked up at him wide-eyed.

"Nothing. I'm sure we can make it back in good time." He spoke with a level of vindication that made you want to believe anything he said to be true.

You nodded and left the room as inconspicuously as possible. He led you to his carriage, helping you inside. The moment the door closed he seemed to inch closer to you. You did the same until you were practically on top of each other, not that you minded. The rest of the journey set your nervous system into overdrive. Each time his thigh touched yours, there was a fluttering in your lower abdomen. Every whiff you got of his musk made your heart race. When his long fingers crept towards the side of your face and tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear, your skin felt like it was as hot as melting wax.

At long last, you reached his estate. The carriage drove through iron gates the colour of charcoal and onto a stone driveway. It was large, intimidatingly so - quite a bit like its owner. The bricks were the same shade as clouds just before a storm with dark strands of ivy crawling up them. None of the lights were on, not even in the servants quarters. The whole house was asleep. This was evident when you walked in and was greeted with silence. It was a seducing silence rather than an uncomfortable or sinister one, like the moment of anticipation before something loud happens.

What happened next was very loud indeed.

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[margowritesthings]

The French Are Glad To Die For Love

A Bridgerton x Moulin Rouge crossover

pairing: Colin Bridgerton x ? word count: 2.1k words warnings: 18+ minors DNI, un-beta'd, mentions of sex, spitting, lots of debauchery authors note: surpriiise! i have been sitting on this since part 1, so to celebrate part 2 tomorrow here's my new mini-series! i have never written for Colin before, so i'm nervous, but i loved writing this.

i also need your help! i cannot decide if this mini series should be Colin x reader or a Polin fic, where Penelope is Satine. I have created a poll here for you to vote, so please let me know!

and as always, enjoy! it's been a hot minute since I last published, so thank you if you're still here.

Bridgerton Masterlist

The stars sparkle especially brightly tonight, the crimson lanterns guiding Parisians and tourists alike through the winding streets, and Colin Bridgerton stands in awe of it all. 

He’d read stories, heard tales of this place during long nights at Whites, but nothing could have quite prepared him for what lay ahead of him, a long string of lights hanging in the sky leading the way to his destination. 

The Moulin Rouge. 

A house of debauchery and sin, of freedom and truth, filled to the brim with bohemians and artists and beautiful women unlike anything or anyone he’s ever seen before. Even now, 30 feet away from the illuminated windmill, he can hear the music and the joy spilling out from the building. His senses are filled with the perfume of hundreds of women passing him by the minute, all with real, toothy grins he rarely has the pleasure of seeing back home. It is far too impolite to be so happy in London society. 

Colin steps forwards, his boots crunching against the gravel and his coattails flying in the breeze. His shoulders brush more wonderfully merry, positively inebriated partygoers on his way in, catching odd fragments of conversations that would have scandalised him and his whole family were he elsewhere. 

But he wasn’t elsewhere. He was here, in the city of love, away from anybody who had ever known the name Bridgerton. His clean slate clutched close to his chest, waiting to find out what will be written on it next, Colin feels the fresh air on his face for the last time before his life is changed forever.

The heat hits him first, a symptom he knew all too well of too many people packed into a small space. But unlike every ball he’s been to, this doesn’t feel claustrophobic or fusty. It feels alive. 

There is a feast for the eye wherever one looks. Burlesque dancers showing off stockings and garters by kicking their legs up, toes pointing towards the aerial hoops holding acrobats hanging from the ceiling. Gentlemen, if you can call them that in this state, wearing top hats, arm in arm with their glasses raised high, spilling their contents all over the wooden floor. 

The music blasts loud from each instrument the band masterfully pluck or blow or bang, but laughter and conversation buzzes amongst the melodies. It is a near overwhelming amount of joy, one Colin certainly could use a drink to wash it down with. 

If he could just find the bar…

Bodies fill his view, so entangled in each other it is difficult to tell where one starts and another ends. Frilly skirts flow over the knees of suits as ladies dangle from the necks of patrons, sharing cigars and passing around bottles of an unknown green liquid. Rosy cheeks as far as the eye can see, wether from too much of that green stuff or the exertion of all that dancing, Colin can’t be sure. Between them all, in tiny empty spaces, he can just about make out rows of bottles and glasses. 

Weaving through the crowd is like treading through water, but their energy and joy seems to rub off on him. There isn’t a dance card in sight, women choosing their partners themselves whenever they like with a freedom Colin isn’t sure he’s ever seen before. Is this truly what people are designed to be when they are free?

Eventually, his hands find the sticky wood of the bar, quickly lifting themselves back off it on instinct at the sensation. When Colin looks to his left, he sees a woman pouring a shot of liquor between her breasts, a man knelt below her waiting to lick it back up, and he quickly realises why the bar feels so tacky- every surface here seems to be host to someone’s revelry. 

“Welcome to the Moulin Rouge, monsieur. Can I get you a drink?”

Colin’s attention is quickly pulled by the welcome, his gaze snapping to a tall French woman dripping with red jewels that compliment her rich brown skin perfectly. She is captivating to be sure, deep hazel eyes commanding Colin’s attention, competing with the most incredible curls of hair he has ever seen. Ladies of the ton are welcome no matter their race back home, but Colin has never seen a lady allowed to wear her hair so beautifully natural before. The Afro framing her face has more tiny rubies that sparkle under the cabaret lights, and Colin is speechless. 

“I…uh, pardon me, Miss, I-“ he sighs, giving up entirely at his failed attempt at decorum, “Is it so obvious I have never been here before?” 

She laughs, gems twinkling as her head shakes with mirth. 

“Not at all, but most gentlemen who have been here before know to wear a top hat. And there’s that look in your eye…” 

As she speaks, she pours out one finger of the green liquor Colin has spotted a few times already, sliding it along the wood towards him. 

“Wonder. Drink this. It will help with the nerves.” 

Colin looks down, finding himself fascinated with a drink that seems to glow of its own volition. He has smoked blends and meditated with world weary travellers from across the globe, drank tea containing unknown substances that left him staring at blades of grass as if they held the worlds secrets, and yet this… whatever it is, seems to terrify him.

The barmaid laughs again, that melodic sound with the real joy Colin very much enjoys. 

“It’s only absinthe, monsieur. Loosens the inhibitions, relaxes the body…” she explains, pouring a second out for herself and lifting it to him as if to prove her credibility. 

“Santé.” He toasts to health.

“Amour.” She toasts to something far greater.

It leaves no room for argument, and all Colin can do is lift his own glass and tap it against hers. 

It burns his tongue, leaving a fiery trail down his throat as he swallows and tries not to cough and splutter. A bitter yet herby anise flavour fights with his taste buds and seems to seep straight into his mind, teasing at those tense knots that held him back from fully immersing himself here. 

When his eyes eventually reopen, he finds the barmaid beaming at him, unphased by her own potion. Rather used to it, if she shares a glass with every newcomer, he should think.

“Be careful, though, monsieur. Many a man has spent a night with the stuff and swears he fell in love with a fairy dressed all in green. Ruined him for any other woman for the rest of his life…” She speaks words that belong in fairytale, with a tone containing such severity Colin is inclined to take every single one of them as gospel. 

“I dare say I should be careful, then. I do not think this green fairy would want to join the rest of my travels when she can instead entice all of Paris’ men to sin…” 

The residue of the liquor smells just as strong as the full measure, which Colin tries to blink out of his senses when he puts the glass back on the bar.

Almost as if society itself had cleared its throat at him, Colin remembers himself, remembers just where he is. Undoubtedly the most unique establishment he had ever set foot in, but an establishment all the same. 

“I beg your pardon, miss, I seem to forget myself. How much do I owe you for the drink?”

She considers him.

“Hm,  the absinthe I think… for you, a kiss.” 

Colin, already pulling coins from his breast pocket, pauses, a little grin tugging at the corner of his lip. The francs clink together when they fall back to the bottom of his pocket, a long forgotten currency of the past. It’s a perfect reminder of just how different things are here, how easily walls crumble between strangers and connection is offered so freely. He has never kissed a woman he has not paid for back home, so afraid of getting too close to another in case they ruin each other. Here, a beautiful woman leans over the bar, offering her flushed cheek for him to softly press his lips against. 

And he does. 

And it is lovely. 

“If any more handsome men capture the eye of Mademoiselle Belle, I will surely be out of business!” A loud, hearty voice pulls Colin from one blissful moment back into the party.

He regards a rather large man, clad in a red tailcoat and stunning golden waistcoat. His top hat, near the same to all the other gentlemen in the room but somehow grander, tops wild orange curls that match a fantastic handlebar moustache. A true ring leader to this wonderful circus of debauchery Colin has found himself in. 

“Harold Zidler, at your service. Welcome to the Moulin Rouge.” 

“Colin Bridgerton.” He replies, offering a hand that Harold seems bemused at. Unsurprising, considering what passes for currency around here. Nonetheless, Harold shakes the offered hand. 

”I must say, your establishment is rather…” he hesitates, unable to find a word in any language he has picked up along his travels that quite captures the Moulin Rouge. Perhaps he could blame the absinthe, or the intoxicating hedonism he feels rooting its way through his mind, hidden in the brass notes from the band and thrown with each cancan kick of one of the dancers that surrounds him. 

Luckily, Harold seems well used to this phenomenon. 

“Isn’t it? And you have seen nothing yet! I assume you are not from around here?”

”It is rather obvious, I have been told.” Colin adds a glance to Miss Belle, who’s skirt frills bounce in the lights while she shakes up a cocktail. He adds, “London.” 

”Well, Monsieur Bridgerton, I promise you that what we have here in the Moulin Rouge is unlike anything you have back home in London.” 

Colin’s eye is caught again across the room, as a beautiful woman with blonde tumbling waves spits a drink into a man’s mouth. 

“I am inclined to agree with you there.” 

It truly is unlike anything back home. Colin has travelled across Europe and back again, seen incredible sights and met wonderful people. He has felt that ease that distance from London society and its unwritten laws and social rules that bind him back home can bring. He’s seen beauty and felt freedom and thought he might have found truth somewhere along the way, but it pales to whatever is contained within these four walls. 

In truth, it couldn’t be farther from London society.

”Just wait until you see my Diamond, Monsieur.”

… Perhaps not. 

Intrigue hits Colin as Harold pulls out a pocket watch on a brilliant gold chain. 

“Your diamond?”

”My Sparkling Diamond. The main attraction of the Moulin Rouge, my most sought after little chickee.” He speaks proudly, with a mist in his eye Colin normally finds on ambitious Mamas at grand balls, secretly trying to auction their daughters off to the highest rank. 

“I do not believe she is booked yet for tonight…” Harold adds, that mist darkening, disappearing, leaving a shiver stuck between Colin’s shoulder blades.

Not because this Diamond is a courtesan. Colin is hardly a stranger to the profession, and he bears no judgement. In truth, he admires the women he has been known to spend the night with, finding the courage of living outside society so freely quite brave indeed. No, that shiver came from Harold entirely, Colin just cannot figure out why. 

Harold excuses himself, though makes sure Colin knows to stay for the show, and Colin orders a whiskey on the rocks, insisting on paying in cash this time. Though singular in person, he has never felt less alone in his life. Looking around, there isn’t an empty chair in the house. If there were, there wouldn’t be room to put it down for all the dancers and patrons enjoying every ounce of the world they can. Music played straight from the soul ringing in his ears, Colin could make out every instrument. The lights dazzled in his eyes and the spot caught him every so often, lighting his drink up in his hand like golden ambrosia. 

And then, darkness. Silence. 

A single spot, though the mirrors scattered around catch the light and illuminate the faces of the people around him. Everybody is looking upwards, as if they all know she is coming. 

Even if he did know, Colin could never have prepared himself for what he saw when he looked up.

Who he saw.

The Sparkling Diamond, shimmering high on a swing hanging from the ceiling. 

The most beautiful, breathtaking, person he has ever seen. In any city, on any continent in the world. 

Crimson lips part as each and every person hangs on the breath she takes.

”The French are glad to die for love…”

don't forget to vote in the poll for your fmc!

[milswrites]

To the stars who listen

~Rhysand X Fem!Reader

Summary: Looking upon the stars for the first time since leaving the mountain, Rhysand makes a wish. Only to be surprised when his dreams are actually answered.

Warnings: Mentions of what happened to Rhys under the mountain. (otherwise the only way I could describe this is as fluffy angst?)

Fic for @starfallweek

Prompt: Character A is a fallen star. Character B finds them.

The world was full of dreamers.

Humans, Fae and Faeries alike. The power of the night sky knew no bounds. All were welcome to look up to the heavens and all were able to wish upon the astral beings to their hearts content.

The stars knew nothing of discrimination, shining for all should they only choose to look up.

They were infinite. Unyielding.

Having centuries of experience when it comes to lighting up the night sky.

A patient guide, a willing listener, a teller of stories.

To Rhysand, stars were just as important as the air he breathed.

Which is why he found himself here, on his first night of freedom after escaping the mountain, sat alone on his balcony at the House of Wind. His violet eyes, dulled after half a century of pain by Amarantha's hand, locked onto the sky above him.

Fifty years.

That was how long the High Lord had been deprived from watching the stars. Fifty long years without their comforting presence to whisper to. Unable to share his dreams, his prayers for the future. Hidden from the golden twinkle which told him they heard him, storing away his wishes, holding them safe until they came true.

So here he was, staring longingly at the night sky. Searching his mind for what he wanted to say. Wondering exactly how he would greet them again.

It was a beautiful night for it.

Not a single cloud hovered overhead. Allowing the stars to shimmer brightly in all their majesty. Rhysand couldn't recall a time where he had ever seen the stars gleam with this intensity.

Heart twinging with hope, he imagined their vivid illumination was for him. That it was their way of saying hello to an old friend they had missed. Their way of showing him they were listening.

So Rhysand spoke.

A soft breath from his lips as he whispered to the brightest star in the sky, the reflection of its almighty glory danced in his soulless eyes.

"I wish I felt like me again."

His own eyes watered at his confession, throat turning dry as his mind never failed to stop playing out the horrors of which he had endured under the mountain. Each blink of his eyes brought along the flashes of deep red hair and rouge painted claws.

Rhysand no longer considered himself a dreamer. Not as long as these nightmares plagued his thoughts.

He was a broken man.

A cracked mirror. Only he couldn't figure out how to piece himself back together again. How to move on from the trauma of his past which had settled in his bones.

So he repeated his wish, his words floating into the cool night air like a prayer. Desperate eyes searching the glowing stars, begging for an answer. Begging for some instruction as to how he could move on, how he could be Rhysand again.

But there was nothing.

The stars were silent.

There was no shimmer of acknowledgment. No sign that they had heard the broken call from the male. They stayed unchanging, staring back at him with no acknowledgement of his wish.

Disheartened, Rhysand cast his bitter eyes to the ground. Cursing himself for being so foolish as to believe that the stories his mother used to tell him held truth.

Perhaps that's all they ever were. Just stars. And Rhysand was just the fool who had hoped that they could be something more.

Sullen, he made to move inside. Disappointment welling in his system at the knowledge that sleep most likely won't come to him. That dark-eyed and exhausted tomorrow, he would have to pretend to his family that all was ok. That he was ok.

For one last time he cast his violet eyes back to the sky in despair. Taking turns to stare at each glistening orb. Forcing himself to look for something he no longer believed was there.

Then, just as he was about to give up and retire to his room, there was a flash from the corner of his eyes.

It was only small, the white light which had crept into his vision. But it was definitely there. A streak across the inky black sky. Breaking the darkness as it barreled over Velaris and towards the forest-cloaked mountain in the distance.

Rhysand was driven by pure instinct.

He leapt from the balcony. Large wings growing from his back until they began to powerfully beat against the gravity pulling him down, carrying him upwards towards the mountain. Towards the mysterious light which was still barreling through the sky, gaining momentum as it was moved downwards. Almost appearing as though if it was falling.

This stirred the male to act faster. To urge his wings to close the difference between himself and the light quicker. Beating them and beating them until a dull ache had settled in his muscles.

But he had to get there.

The white light disappeared between the trees, its intense aura had dimmed to a low glow. It's flickering energy enough for Rhysand to still follow the trail as he flew down to the ground in order to land. Curiously threading in-between the tree's as he made his way towards the source.

His eyes squinted as he neared the fallen light, heart pounding as he was able to make out the shape of a figure from inside the glowing orb.

The ethereal being walked towards him as the brightness dimmed, allowing Rhysand to drop the hand which he had lifted to shield his eyes. Though whilst the orb of light had faded, the skin of this otherworldly being still glowed strongly.

"Who are you?" He questioned weakly, unable to don the mask of an all-powerful High-Lord because he knew whoever this was, whatever they were, he would be no match for them.

"I think you already know the answer to that."

Their voice was soft, angelic, as though the words they were speaking came from the melody of a song. The gentle tone reverberated in the quiet forest, clinging to the air as it failed to fully disappear. Hovering closely by like an inextinguishable echo.

"No. . .no. It's impossible. You're not real" his head shook in disbelief, violet eyes wide in shock. There had to be another explanation to this. To who this strange being was.

"You called, Rhysand. So I came."

"But- but how? Am I dreaming?"

An amused smile crossed her face, soft pink lips lifting into a gracious curve, "Is that what you think this is? A dream?"

His brows furrowed as he considered the star's words.

"No" he concluded, heart sinking at his realization, "This is real. I haven't had a dream in fifty years."

"And why is that?" she questioned, her siren's song attempting to draw the words out from his lips, even though Rhysand had the unsettling feeling that she already knew the answer. That she probably already knew everything about him.

The thought of which churned his stomach in an unpleasant way. Had she been able to see everything that happened under the mountain, even though Rhysand couldn't see her? His rising anxiety over this prospect rendered him unable to speak.

"You've asked me who I am," she started attempting to soothe his rising worries by giving him something else to think about, "But who are you Rhysand? You want to feel like you again so badly? Who is that?"

"I. . . I don't know. I don't know who I am" he cried, searching eyes boring into the star's as if her silver orbs would hold the answer that he's looking for. But they remained untelling, instead they only willed him to continue speaking.

"What I do know. . . Is that I'm not the same man who entered that mountain."

Her unwavering smile remained, its presence pouring through Rhysand, relaxing him until it reached his very soul.

"And why do you have to be?" she asked, moving closer to the male so he could absorb some of her calming energy.

"Because it's what's expected of me?" he meant to say it as a statement, make the point that his court and his family were relying on his council now he had returned, yet his words came out more as a question, seeking truth from the empathetic features of the star.

"Expected of you? From your court? From your friends and family? Or is it just yourself telling you that."

She was right of course. Her piercing eyes already knowing the truth about the male before he did. Yet, where he usually would have found it annoying, there was something rejuvenating at the way she was able to understand him.

At the way she was able to peel apart the layers of his swirling thoughts, unstick the pages of the book who made him who he was. Mend the broken edges and the cracked spine. Her words acting as the hands which where smoothing the pages back to normal.

She turned her face to the sky, eyes casting beyond the overhanging canopy to meet the night sky. Silvery eyes lovingly looking upon her family.

"We never stopped waiting for you Rhysand. Fifty years we looked down to that mountain. Waiting for when the day would come that you returned from its depths."

His heart ached sweetly at the knowledge. A sad smile creeping onto his face at the awareness that the stars had longed for his return.

That whilst he had been trapped within the shadows of the mountain thinking of them, they had kept their eyes on his prison, waiting for him to return.

"You're not broken Rhys" she confided, "You're still the same man who went under the mountain, if not an even stronger one. You stared death in the face and you lived. You're here. Allow yourself to feel the pain. Give yourself the time to heal. There is light on the other side."

"But what if I can't find it?" Rhysand worried, "What if I get lost?"

"You never will. We will guide you Rhys, just as we always have."

She began to glow with more ferocity, Rhysand having to squint his eyes once more from the force of the light she emitted. Fear sparking inside his chest at the realization that she was leaving, that her time here was drawing to a close.

"No, you can't go! I need you!" he begged, doing his best to desperately stare into the light so she knew just how serious he was being.

"I'm always there Rhys. I'll watch over you every night, all you have to do is look up."

By this point the sheer brightness of her presence was too overwhelming, Rhysand having to turn around to avoid being blinded. His violet eyes turned to the ground where they locked onto the shadow of his figure. Onto him. Not the fractured male he had assumed crawled out from the mountain. But Rhysand, High Lord of the night court.

"We're always listening Rhysand, and every dream you send to us shall be answered. All you have to do is ask."

The light behind him vanished. Leaving the male standing in the dark solitude of the forest. But he wasn't alone. He knew that now as he turned his glistening eyes to the night sky.

Lips upturned in a peaceful smile.

"Thank you" He whispered gratefully to the stars.

And Rhysand could have sworn that the stars smiled back.

[emthimofnight]

What are Stellar's relationships like with the other main Sonic Co.?

I'll break down a handful of relevant relationships for you!!

Sonic - Stellar's dad

Stellar loves her dad, and is most like him in personality. This makes it so they are usually on the same page when it comes to what they do and don't like, but it also means that there is no one on earth who can annoy Stellar like Sonic can. 😂 As much as she loves joking around with him, sometimes his teasing and sarcasm can get on her nerves. Sonic has truly adapted to his role as an embarrassing dad, so dad jokes are non-stop in the hedgehog household. Even so, Stellar loves Sonic a lot and nothing makes her happier than running all over Green Hill with him! She wishes he'd take her on more of his big adventures.

Shadow - Stellar's papa

Stellar and Shadow are very close, but in a way that is different than how she is close with Sonic. Shadow is a quiet, steady, and responsible force in her life, one that she appreciates greatly. She knows she can rely on him for almost anything, and she finds a great amount of comfort in his presence. Shadow would do almost anything for her, and she knows it. That being said, Shadow can come across as overprotective, which becomes a point of contention between the two of them.

Tails - Uncle figure

Since Tails and Sonic were living together when Stellar arrived, he's always been an active part of her life. Once he got over the drama surrounding her existence, he was SUPER stoked to be an uncle! He was one of her regular babysitters growing up, and she really likes trying to bring out his more playful side. Even so, she finds it a bit hard to connect to him and his interests at times, as she's not very techy. She might not understand all of his brainiac lingo, but she does love all the fun gadgets he comes up with! He actually helped create her skates as a way to help vent her excess chaos energy!

Knuckles - Uncle figure

Knuckles is probably the uncle she relates to the most, as she shares his love of adventure and the outdoors! She often spends time listening to him tell stories of all the adventures he and Sonic have gone on, her eyes filled with stars. She admires him greatly, and thinks he's super cool! The only thing she doesn't get is how he can spend so much of his time sitting around and guarding the Master Emerald. She has far too much energy to be able to sit still for that long!

Amy - Aunt figure

Amy was another of her regular babysitters growing up, which is also how she and Camellia became so close. Amy would come over to visit with Camellia in tow, and the two would spend a majority of the time playing together. She sees Amy as a warm, loving person, and she feels like she could tell her almost anything. She does know not to piss her off, though! Amy is a force to be reckoned with when she's upset! Of course, she's delighted whenever she comes over, and it always helps that she brings yummy baked goods with her!

Rouge - Aunt figure

The aunt she's closest with, Rouge helped Stellar shape a lot of her personal style. She's the rich auntie type, always coming over with gifts and taking Stellar out to have girl time. She is responsible for a lot of the more feminine aspects of Stellar, seeing as she's the one who introduced the world of cosmetics to her. If it wasn't for her, Stellar would have been dressed in oversized t-shirts and running shoes all her life!

Blaze - Aunt figure

Being softer and more reserved, Stellar finds it harder to connect with Blaze. It's not that she doesn't appreciate her, she's just can find her a bit hard to read at times. She definitely exudes that queenly energy, and she can find that a bit intimidating at times. Even so, she's always happy to get opportunities to know her better, and she recognizes she's an empathetic and responsible person.

I should also mention that the only one out of this group that she genuinely sees like blood family is Tails. Everyone else are kind of like god parents or something, haha! She doesn't see any of the other fankids as cousins, basically. She sees them as peers/friends.