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yanderenightmare · 5 months

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TW: NSFW, yandere, f!reader, bondage, abuse, punishment, intense spanking/whipping-ish

gn reader

“Please- plea- m’so- sorry-” You sob, voice cracking on its own blubbering. Chest full of panic – heaving for a fix but achieving little less than spurring even more hysteria.

“Haah…” He sighs. Casually fixing your bonds tighter around your wrists, hoisting them a little higher above your head until you were properly stretched up on your tippy-toes.

Shivering in just your undies in anxious wait of his anger.

Stroking your back while holding your belly in a steady hand, he thinks he’s never felt fear quite like it, but unfortunately, “Y’broke the rules, Sunshine… and now yer’ gettin’ punished.”

He unbuckles his belt. Your eardrums burn at the crisp sound, so much spiked blood rushing about, making you go dizzy.

You think you might pass out.

“What did I say the rules were, hm? ‘You remember ‘em?” He mumbles in a steady tone, speaking awfully softly with his lips pressed against your temple. Waiting for your answer.

You give a sob and a pitiful nod, and he hums in return, rubbing calm circles into your shivering, goose-fleshed skin.

“Recite them for me.” He requests, nose rubbing your hairline as you shiver from his touch.

Voice unsteady, filtered through tears and a hopeless sense of terror – chin tipped up, needing to gasp for breaths. “N-no fighting, no- no arguing, no run- running-”

“Mh…” He hums, taking in the scent of your shampoo with a sniff of your crown, placing a kiss there as though in kudos – or as a small mercy before getting started. “And you managed to do all three in one night. ‘You feel proud, hm? ‘You feel accomplished? Hm? Was it worth it?”

You whimper under the interrogation, feeling smaller and smaller by the second – so exposed where you are, practically hanging from the ceiling like dead meat. Stripped of everything that might’ve protected you – or that would have at least cushioned the coming onslaught of pain you knew to dread.

“Nah… it’s written all over your body. Goosebumps and cold sweat, shaking from tits to toes. You regret it, don’t you?” He murmured, winding his belt around his fist once, then twice, leaving a looped tail. “Mh, maybe you’ll think twice about it next time... or maybe you’ll finally learn your place.”

He finished with a soft bite to the chub of your cheek, then grabbed your chin just as gently, holding your face up to look at him as he sidestepped to your front. Leaning his forehead against yours, he stroked your jaw with his thumb – lips hovering just short of yours.

“I'm gonna hurt you, Sweetie.” He purred, stroking your asscheek with the cool leather in his grip – in such gross contrast to what you knew he planned on using it for. “I promised I would, and now I will…”

He kissed your lips then – slowly, sweetly – suffocatingly so as you cried – tasting your tears and doing a terrible job at withholding his grin as you felt it pull giddily at the corner of his mouth.

He licked his lips once he pulled away, walking a circle around you like a shark.

“How many hits do you deserve?” He mused. “I guess one for each rule you broke is fair, but it seems a little scant…”

He stopped behind you, placing a chaste kiss on your arm before nuzzling around it.

“Should we say thirty?” He offered, and your eyes immediately widened.

Shaking your head furiously, prayers already coming out in splutters. “No- please-”

“No? Too many?” He pouted, not bothering to mask his glee now. “Okay, okay, calm down, baby. Breathe.” He soothed with no effort. “I think…”

There was a pause – a hum of thought as he wrapped his arms around your front and swayed you back against his chest in a hug.

“Ugh fuck, I'm no good makin’ rules on the fly…” He feigned - sinking his jaw into the grove of your armpit before cuddling the soft flesh with his chin-stubble.

He sucked his teeth in a further display of thought before releasing an exasperated sigh.

“I really didn’t think you’d break ‘em, y’know? I thought you’d be a good pet…”

You trembled, eyes looking down at the belt held between his big hands – whimpering at the sight of him simply playing with it – psyching you out like a true sadist.

“But you just had to disappoint me, didn’t you?”

You bit your lip to stop a sob.

“Had to be difficult… and now I gotta make difficult decisions…”

He slinked off you, leaving you to wobble – toes barely grazing the cold basement floor.

You try your best to prepare yourself for the next events, but the more you brace yourself the more tense you get and the harder you cry. “Please- I’ll be good- promise- m’real- really sorry-”

“I know, baby. I know~ I am, too.” He coos, kissing your spine while rubbing circles into your sides – feeling your ribs rattle with sniffles, struggling for air through your panic. “I wanna make sure we never have to be sorry again.”

He wraps an arm around the front of your hips, steadying you while stroking the loop of his belt over your plump cheeks – tentatively teasing the soft flesh with what was soon to come.

He licked his lips at the promise – already imagining the flawless flesh blooming with his marks.

“I think thirty is fair.”

“No- no please- please, don’t-” You thrash – but do so little more than in place.

“Don’t squirm.” He interrupts, his hand curling into your hip with blunt nails denting the fine skin, keeping you still, pushing your side snugly against his front – holding you intimately while gruffing out eerie murmurs still much too softly for what he was saying. “Remember, it’s another ten hits if you fight me and another ten if you argue.”

At least he doesn’t make you count....

You wouldn’t have been able to even under threat – too busy wailing.

Each hit like the lash of a whip, smacking you fast, one on top of the other. It’s enough to make you throw up after half of it – though it's mostly just water and acid.

He takes pity enough to allow you a small break. Wringing off his wife-beater and wiping your mouth with it – also brushing some of the sweat off your brow before kissing your forehead.

“Halfway there, Sweetie- you’re doing so good~” He whispered soothingly, holding your cheeks to pick your face up from hanging – looking into the hopeless look of your opium-blown eyes – so lost he didn’t know if you could even hear him.

He acts as though he’s sorry after, but the boner he’s got nudged against you doesn’t lie – desperately dry-humping your thigh for some sort of relief.

His breaths are tight and hot, puffed against your arm where he now mouths wet kisses. “Good-” He swallows thickly, brows tight-knit, voice thick with lust. “Good pet.”

You hadn’t noticed he was done. And the relief doesn’t register either. There isn’t much comfort in it to grasp, not with the pain still so numbingly intense that you can’t feel anything but the raw sting.

He drops the belt to the floor and struggles his fly open, shoving the trousers down along with his boxers, stepping out of the heap in a rush – all the while sucking sloppy kisses on your shoulder and nape, mumbling praise. “Y’were so good- so good fo’me- gonna reward yah- my good fuckin’ baby- gonna make yah feel so fuckin’ good now-”

The flesh of your ass burns with welts and split skin, ugly marks already lining the once-pretty color with horrid shades of bruise-dark. Your throat’s ripped raw from all the wailing – only weeping harder when he takes your hips and sways you back to meet his fat erection.

He shamelessly rubs himself between your cheeks – frenzied with his mouth gaping, releasing a filthy shuddering moan while leering at the beautiful sight of his handiwork – feeling so proud he was blushing just from sheer sadistic enjoyment – even letting slip a breathy laugh now.

He hung his tongue out and let his drool drip onto the shaft, then placed another kiss between your shoulder blades. Gliding his tip down and, with the help of a hand, pushed it between your cheeks until it caught your entrance.

A rugged groan blew hotly down your spine, and another cry was ripped from your chest as he sunk inside without a single spare second to waste.

He laid his face to rest against your back, nudging up inside you slowly with both arms wrapping around you like before – holding you snugly before he began the intimate pace, fucking only the deepest coziest parts of you.

“I love you, Sunshine- you’re mine- only one I give two shits about- rest can just fuck off for all I care- as long as I have you- right here… forever.”

BNHA – Bakugou, Kirishima, Dabi, Hawks, Overhaul, Aizawa, Todoroki

JJK – Toji, Nanami, Geto, Gojo, Sukuna, Naoya

HQ - Iwaizumi, Matsukawa, Sakusa, Suna, either Miya twin

BLLK - Isagi, Reo, Kunigami

DS - Doma

CSM - Aki

#yandere x reader #yandere #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere smut #yancore #yandere bakugo #yandere kirishima #yandere dabi #yandere hawks #yandere boku no hero academia #yandere jjk #yandere haikyuu #yandere toji #yandere nanami #yandere geto #yandere demon slayer #yandere blue lock #yandere csm

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studioghibelli · 18 days

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the old man and the sea- a joel miller x reader fic

summary: grief is a sacred thing, a nasty thing, a sensual thing. it grips you from the inside until there's nothing left but a void of darkness- a void that can never be filled. joel miller knows this fact very well, and all he wants to do is save you.

warnings: girthed up age gap (college age!reader x 50’s age joel), i’m exploring a new type of writing ok let me COOK!!!! idk i am delusional, reader has hair that at least reaches her neck, cigarette use, this whole thing is basically an allegory for grief and growing but there also a lot of sexy smut soooo yeah. (mentions of death and two brief mentions of suicide, but nothing too detailed.) that being said, smut (f receiving oral sex, soft kissy missionary sex, unprotected piv sex, some 'dirty' talk, etc.)

note: this has NOT been proofread or edited. any mistakes are mine. i just hate going back and editing lmao. enjoy! xx

In the august days of your youth, when the rocky line of the coast line glimmered beneath the flame of the sun, when the foamy waves would pool by your sandy feet, you could remember the towering lighthouse just south of the beach, the way it stood tall and proud, like the statues of Roman soldiers you knew from your school encyclopedias. It was vibrant and alive, no more dead than the clams bubbling beneath the surface of the ocean, no more dead than the bellowing of the whales far off the shore.

You remember how it would speak to you, late at night when you would walk alone, hoping to catch the light reflecting off the tail of a pretty mermaid, hoping that the local legends of talking fish would come poke their heads above the water, speaking to you in riddles from days gone by.

You remember the words of the light which shone strong from above, circling above your head , like the passing lights of a traveling carnival, your eyes caught like a moth roaming towards the flames, lost in the eternal beauty of its golden light.

Come to me, child. Let the lighthouse unburden your pain.

But back then, when you were quick to scare despite your steadfast stubbornness, you never garnered enough courage to explore behind its walls.

Now college had passed, and you moved back home to your parent's rickety beach house, alone behind her comforting wooden exterior. This home. This home that was once so full of life. This home that held warm laughter and late night board games. This home that housed your closest friends and their secrets of crushes and undeciphered dreams. This home where you grew into a young woman full of life and beauty, clever and brilliant.

This home that was now empty.

You had got the call the week after finals.

We're so sorry, they went out fishing and a storm came. We never found them.

Oh, yes.

Adventure pumped through your veins, the taste for freedom like salty water on your tongue. You knew where you got it from, you always had. Your sweet family, your loving parents. Full of life like that lighthouse, full of of love like the sun.

Now they were nothing, and this house was nothing. Those years of laughter and secrets and adventure were nothing.

Nothing.

Your favorite word these days.

Going through belongings and shuffling through old books had taken almost a weeks worth of tears. Hot, tepid, angry tears.

How dare they leave you alone? How dare they forsake you like this?

The thought of crashing water and striking lightning was almost too much to bare.

When the storm had rolled in that morning, you had been tucked away in the alcove of your kitchen, nursing a steaming mug that was more cream than coffee. You watched the droplets of rain paint pictures on the window, you watched nature wring her tears across the fluttering branches of trees, cracking soft splashes across the pavement with each gust of air. Your chest felt heavy with thoughts of them.

Mom and dad.

Mamma and papa.

Perhaps it was in hopes you would feel some comfort, perhaps it was in hopes you would feel whole. If you could just stare out at the ocean that took them, maybe they would speak to you. Maybe those fairytale fish would poke their heads up from the water and exclaim to you how happy your parents were, how they were fitting right in, how they had invited Mrs. Dolphin over for tea last Saturday, and how they were finally warming up to the funny shark that always lurked in the seaweed.

You stood barefoot on the cragged rock, staring out at the roaring waves, with nothing but the lull of distant seagulls and the song of incoming thunder.

No fish. No parents. No Mrs. Dolphin. Just another season of storms and a crater in your heart.

Your throat was raw from all the screaming. You danced to your fight song as you let the rain take you, your clothes felt like skin from how soaked through they were. Heavy drapes of fabric that cemented you in place on that cragged rock. That cragged rock that dripped with the blood of your raw heels, your toes scraped and ruined from the sandy surface.

It was dark by the time the storm rolled out, dark by the time your back found the safety of the sand, dark by the time your hair clung to your neck and became tangled up with the seashells.

There was a glowing orb of light far off in the distance that you could just make out through the hazy fog of your eyelashes, and you realized it was growing closer, the old handle of a lantern creaking through the night.

"Hello?" The voice was rough and unknown to your ears, yet held a certain warmth despite the weariness.

"Yes?" You asked softly, refusing to open your eyes. If you opened your eyes, all of this was real, all of this was raw, all of this was right there.

"Are you.... okay?"

"Yes."

The lantern creaked once more, and you heard the shuffle of fabric as the man leaned forward, pressing his knuckles to your cheek. "You're colder than a reindeer's antlers, girl." His touch was warm, his hand a welcome solace from the rain. "You live around here?"

You didn't want to go back to that house. You didn't want to smell their detergent or see their old clothes. You didn't want to waltz through that kitchen or hear the creak of those old stairs.

Perhaps it was from the way your lip quivered, from the rain or from the cold, perhaps it was from the defeat in your voice, or the weightlessness of your soul, but the man before you knew he had to do something about it. How could he not? You were laying there like a pile of unfolded laundry, and no one else was around to fold it all.

You felt an arm slip behind your back.

"C'mon, stand up with me. On three."

You groaned softly, using a thick arm as leverage as the mystery man helped you stand off the ground. When you opened your eyes, you saw a pair of umber orbs staring at you, tracing over your face, every line, scar, freckle, dent, he was soaking you in like a sponge, as though he wanted to know your face just from memory.

"I'm Joel."

Joel.

He was handsome, that was the first thing you noticed about him. You felt your stomach churn at the feeling, angry you could find him so beautiful, despite the darkness which shrouded over you. Joel was broad and rugged, no doubt rough around the edges. He was adorned with various scars and random freckles, with thick eyebrows and broad shoulders, plush lips and kind eyes- hardened by time, no doubt, but beautiful all the same.

You know you mumbled your name out somewhere along the walk, eyes cloudy with tears. It was a miracle you managed to speak anything at all.

As you neared the lighthouse, you realized just how foreboding it truly was. Its paint was cracking, yet its foundation remained firm, and it towered up into the clouds like a Medieval castle. Behind it's white structure you saw a small cabin, warm light seeping through the misty windows, painting the green grass with splatters of sunshine.

When Joel opened the door, an old dog sitting in front of the fireplace lifted his head, the soft thump of a tail beating against the wooden floors. His fur was gray and his eyes were old, his long fur a mixture of brown, black, and white patches. Like a makeshift quilt.

Quilts. Your mother used to make those.

"That's Moby." Joel explained, setting a kettle on the old gas stove. "Sit down. You're trailing blood." You felt embarrassment creep up your neck, and he must have noticed the way your eyes darted with shame. "No, no. I didn't mean it like that. Let me fix up your cuts. I-.... I wasn't trying to be a dick." He spoke like this was his first time having human interaction in a decade, and by the way he moved, you might have been right.

He fumbled through drawers and cabinets, eventually finding a metal first aid kit that had begun resting at the edges years ago. Joel pulled up a dining room chair in front of you with a loud screech, peering up at you as he shuffled through the remnants of the kit.

"What were you doing out there?" He asked, gently grabbing your ankle. He guided it to his lap, inspecting the raw flesh of your soles.

"Exploring."

"Exploring what?"

"Myself."

You felt his shoulders jerk with a bit of a laugh. Normally, you would not have gone home with a stranger. Normally, you would not have let a random man place your legs on his lap or nurse you up.

But then again, nothing was normal anymore. Normal was home. Normal was family. Normal was homecooked meals and late night board games and sleepovers and secrets and.... well, none of this.

The hot stream of tears threatened the dam that rest just above your waterline. Joel noticed, but he didn't say anything.

His calloused thumb rested on the side of your foot, the sting of alcohol soaked pads causing you to wince.

"I know." He muttered through an unlit cigarette which dangled from his mouth, the lines of his forehead prominent with each movement he made. "There we go. Right one's done. Let me see the left."

You obeyed wordlessly, gently propping it up onto his thigh. He repeated his previous work until that foot was cleaned and patched.

Joel stared at you. The tea kettle behind him was whistling for attention, its top sputtering from the roaring boil of water.

"Earl gray or green?" He asked as he rummaged for two cups, blowing the dust off of one. You watched Joel stare at one of the cups for a beat too long.

"Earl gray." You croaked, blinking hard. You felt wetness by your hand. When you looked down, the black nose of a dog was pressing into your palm. Your fingers found his fur, rubbing that spot right behind his ear that made his back leg go crazy. Who couldn't smile at that?

Moby laid down, his fur a puddle at the base of your chair as he rested his snout atop your foot. You stared at him, welcoming the softness of his body against yours.

"Moby is a sweet dog. He's old. Rarely gets up from that bed." Joel explained, handing you a cup. The words World's Best Dad were fading at the sides. This cup must have been older than you.

"I like him." You let the liquid glide down your throat with each sip, savoring the warmth it provided you. At the first sign of a shiver, Joel had wrapped a blanket around your shoulders.

"Why are you being so kind to me? You don't even know me."

Joel sat back down across from you with a soft groan, the ache in his bones creaking like an old, rusting elevator shaft. "I do know you."

"Have we met before?" Your eyebrow raised with interest, and you looked at him wearily, trying to deduce what he was up to.

"No. But I know what grieving looks like." There was a long pause before Joel decided to speak again. "Were you trying to kill yourself?"

"What? No!" You guffawed, neck snapping up to shoot him a scowl. "Of course not."

"Look. If you walked up on a half dead, soaking wet person on the shore, during the aftermath of a storm, you'd be thinking the same thing." He defended himself sternly, setting his cup down.

There was a thick moment of quietness.

"Those were your parents, weren't they?" His voice was barely a whisper. It floated through the air like smoke off a candle, hitting you in the face.

"Yes."

"It was all over the news. Loads of us went out there, tried to find them."

"They're out there somewhere. Fish food." Your voice was bitter.

Joel didn't say anything. He just sat and stared. You stared back.

It became a ritual after that night. You were over there every evening, usually with a paper bag full of groceries and treats for Moby. You taught Joel how to make Paprikash and Japchae, you taught Moby how to fist bump with his nose (old dogs can learn new tricks), and you taught yourself how to laugh again.

Laughing. Such an odd thing to do in the aftermath of grief. Such a weird feeling to allow ones self to feel after weeks of chaos.

And Joel, he had his uses too.

Joel taught you how to do a fishtail braid, he taught you how to use a fly rod, and what the inside of a lighthouse looks like. Joel taught you how to smile again, he taught you what the feeling of freedom felt like once more.

Summer faded into autumn, and the orange and yellow trees began to paint the prettiest of pictures on the canvas of the coast. It held a certain nostalgia that summer had always failed to do for you, and the promise of apple cider and pumpkin scented candles floated through with every passing day.

It had taken some convincing, but Joel had swayed in to your demands, and you both sat at a tiny table in a tiny cafe, the steaming pumpkin latte swirling between his hands.

"So?"

He stared at it for a moment before meeting your gaze. "It's.... not half bad."

"Well, well, well. Looks like I was right. I knew you'd like it." You smiled through your victory, drinking your own iced coffee.

"I haven't been here in years." Joel explained, looking around at the decorations. Local art, framed photographs, and signed albums adorned the exposed brick walls, the glowing salt lamps on each table bathing the air with warm, orange light.

"You've been here before?" This coffee shop was old, you knew that much, but even when you were younger and frequented its counter with your high school friends, you can't remember ever seeing him here. And this was a small town- you knew you would have remembered his face, despite the wrinkles and grays. He still would have been Joel.

"Over two decades ago. Sarah loved this place."

"Sarah?"

His upper lip twitched at the sound of her name. Joel looked at you with heavy eyes, glossed over with the mark of grief. The kind of grief that settles in to your body as though it's its home, the kind of grief that sits beside you on the couch and never leaves. The kind of grief you were learning to grow beside.

"My daughter."

The air hung above your heads like a rainy cloud, thick and desultory. It fell across your shoulders like a fur coat, and you struggled to shake it all away.

"I didn't know that you..." Words were useless. They always were when it came to matters like this.

Joel drank his coffee in silence, tracing the ridges of the wooden table out with his eyes. "Don't like talking about her."

"We don't have to."

"Yes, we do." His voice was stern as he looked up at you, your gaze connecting. Joel's eyes were far away, searching for something in the recesses of his memory, or perhaps gaining the courage to speak to you.

"I've been alone for over twenty years." His voice was softer than you had ever remembered it being. "And then.... you were there. Just there. Laid out on the shore like a beached mermaid, shivering in the moonlight. I didn't know you... but I knew you. You were me in that moment. I had been you."

Your lips were pressed into a tight, thin line, and you watched as he spoke. There was a subtle shake to Joel's hands as he picked at his thumb nail, a tick you had picked up on the first week you had known him. The bouncing of his knee vibrated through the table.

"I know what grief is. I know the stain it leaves on someone's face. It was all over you.. just-just dripping."

You hadn't noticed the tears welling in your eyes.

Joel reached over, his palm engulfing your cold hand like a blanket, warming your skin up with his touch. He laced your fingers tight in to his own, cradling your palms close between his two hands.

"I know what all this does to a person. How it rots, how.... how it erodes. I knew I needed to help you."

"What's why you took me back to your house."

"Yes. That's why I bandaged you up, that why I made you tea, that's why I let you keep coming back. Because I wanted to help you, because I lov-"

"Are we doing okay over here?" A barista walked up with a smile, a tray in hand. "I'm just going to take these empty cups away! It's such a beautiful day outside."

You managed to shoot her a smile.

As she walked away, Joel continued staring at you, and there was a sense of something..... else in his eyes.

"Lets go back home? To- well, uh, to my home."

You nodded silently, letting go of his hands as you both walked out the door.

There was something unspoken between Joel and you, and it had settled between the two of you over the months. You knew that he knew, and Joel knew that you knew, yet it was never brought up, it was never allowed to spoken out loud. If it was spoken out loud, then it became real, and if it became real, then it would end up being a burden. Or a promise. Or a nightmare. Or a dream. Or a beautiful, welcoming, loving thing that lasted until the day you died.

How terrifying was that?

You don't know when you had started holding Joel's hand, but the walk back to the lighthouse was quiet and chilly.

Because I lo-

His words echoed through your skull with every single step you took along the cobbled path.

Lo, lo, lo, lo. Love? Loathe? Long? Look?

Your chest compressed against itself as your thoughts wandered. You must have been squeezing Joel's hand too hard, or your nails must have been digging into his skin too deeply, because he stopped and looked at you.

"Are you okay?" He asked quietly.

"I- um. Huh?"

"You're practically making me bleed with those nails of yours. Are you okay? Thinking about something?"

"Oh, I'm sorry." You muttered sheepishly, gently recoiling your hand away. Joel stopped you, placing it back in the grasp of his own. "I just... what were you going to say to me?"

"Hmm? Say to you?"

"Back at the coffee shop?"

"Oh." Joel shuffled his weight between both of his feet, his eyes shifting to meet yours. His warm, gentle, dark eyes. Those honeyed orbs of warmth that you had grown to love so deeply. Love? Oh, yes. You were certain it was love.

What part of Joel Miller didn't you love? He had rescued you from much more than that shore on that fateful night. Fate. Hell of a thing, that.

Joel squeezed his eyes shut. It was like ripping off a band-aid. When he spoke, he opened them once more, allowing his words to drip off his tongue. They were soft, gentle, they swayed through the tresses of your hair like a breeze through a field of flowers.

"I love you."

And there it was.

Time must have stopped. Your ears rang with silence, the weight of the universe funneling and funneling, closer and closer to your head until there was nothing. No noise. No air. No nothing.

Joel stared at you with a blank expression on his face, as though he couldn't believe what he had just said.

"I shouldn't have... that was- I'm sorry."

You took a step towards him, his hand was still wrapped around your own. You felt the subtle sheen of sweat on his palm, you tasted the tang of metal on your tongue from biting your cheek too hard, too deep, too long.

You knew it as sure as the sun rose in the east, you knew it with every vein in your body, with every hair on your head. You loved him, too.

Oh you did, didn't you? What a fool you were for him. If he told you to jump, you would jump. If he told you to run away with him, you would ask where. Joel Miller had bewitched you, every ounce of you, and you couldn't bare the thought of leaving him, or forgetting him, or even worse- never meeting him.

Some brave rush of courage overtook you, and before you could think you had grabbed his face in your hands and pressed your mouth into his own, nearly knocking him off his feet with the force of your movement. Joel's hands instinctively grabbed your waist, and his back found the support of a stop sign. The tips of his fingers gently dug into your waist, and he held you close and tight to his chest. You could feel the beating of his heart against his torso, pumping and pumping and pumping its vibrations into your own chest, ricocheting through your body as you tasted him on your tongue.

You pulled away only when your cheeks ached, burying your face in to his chest, allowing the smell of Joel to overcome you. He always smelled like the sea air and cotton, sweet and nostalgic against your nose.

"Lets get home." He whispered in your ear.

Home. He hadn't corrected himself. Home.

Joel's fingers refused to leave yours, locked tight as you made it to his house. Moby greeted you with a kiss to the knee, waddling back to his bed with a heavy huff of air. You gave him the bone you always picked up for him on the way there, before turning around to see Joel in the kitchen, a cigarette in his mouth.

"Want one?" He asked as he brought the lighter to his mouth. You walked towards him, nodding. He took the item out of his mouth, before placing it between your own two lips.

Joel watched the way you took the cigarette, the way your glossy lips looked against the white sheen of paper.

"You're so damn beautiful. God, I just..." Joel shook his head as he kept his thoughts to himself, lighting another smoke before tossing the half empty pack on to the table.

"You just what?" Your voice echoed through the bellow of smoke, and you leaned against the counter, challenging him with your words.

"I just... got so many things I want to do to you."

You smiled, alluring eyes beaming up at him as you puffed and exhaled, slowly putting out the embers on the clay ashtray you had bought him months ago. "Like what?" Your words were teasing.

Joel watched you step towards him, and his chest rose and fell underneath the unlit kitchen light. He took in a deep breath of tobacco before flicking it in to the metal sink.

He'd deal with that later.

"How 'bout I just show you, baby?"

Your lip caught between your teeth as you nodded.

Joel had never moved so fast in his life, whisking you off to his room with a loud bang of his door. He had you nearly naked and on his bed in record time, his knee resting between your legs as he kissed you, the hair of his moustache tickling your nose.

He allowed you to grind yourself down on his leg, soft moans flooding in to his mouth as his tongue explored your own, tangling and dancing with one another as his fingers worked the back of your bra. Joel threw the material across the room, your breasts pressing in to his chest, nipples hard and tantalizing.

That was the first time Joel had pulled away. He left a trail of wet kisses down to your nipples, his lips wrapping around the stiff bud. You watched him suckle at your flesh, shivers causing the hair on your arms to stand up. His curls became tangled with your fingers, a leg resting on his shoulder as he adjusted himself, sucking and licking at your tits as though he were starved.

Your sweet melody of arousal was like music to Joel, who finally gathered the strength to pull away from your chest and move down between your legs, his mouth planting a flurry of pecks to your stomach. He hooked your panties in his fingers and tugged them off, large hands resting on your thigh as he spread them.

Joel stared at your pussy, now open and bare for his eyes. It glistened with arousal, the soft pink of your flesh causing his mouth to water.

"Jesus." He breathed out slowly, eyes darting up to your gaze. "You were made just for me, weren't you?"

You felt your cheeks heat up. You were. Oh, God, you were!

His free hand snaked up to yours, and you held it tightly, nervously. His hand was your anchor, tethering you to the ocean floor of his bedroom.

Joel leaned forward, his tongue pressing flat against your clit. You whimpered out once. He sucked it in between his lips. You whimpered out twice. He worked your aching bud until you were singing a song composed just for him, pants of hot, heavy air swirling through the four walls of his room.

He was devouring you. You were his Eucharist and your pussy was his prayer. Joel worked you in ways you had never been worked before, licking and sucking your pussy with the fervor that could only ever be found in a religion. You were his religion. His idol. His worship. His solace.

Oh, solace. What a sweet, sweet thing when it was found in you.

Joel's chin was quickly soaked in your sweet wetness. He would have drowned in you if you had let him.

His tongue pushed deep in to your folds, exploring your most precious pf places, tasting every inch of you like a starved man, like a frenzied man, like a mad man.

You were his. He was yours.

Your hips were bucking, your body like a wild animal caught in a trap. Except you weren't in a trap. You were in his arms. His strong, thick, heavy arms, and ecstasy was overtaking you. His tongue was coaxing you towards an explosive orgasm, the likes of which had never been known to you. Not one so intense. Not one at the hands of a man who loved you.

Joel's grip tightened around your own, his lips sucking at your clit, tongue tapping and swirling, licking and lapping.

You could barely get any warning out before your orgasm rushed through you, thighs shaking with earthquakes of pleasure. Your fingers tugged at his hair, holding his head tight in place. Joel licked you through the height of your euphoria, sucking softly at your bud before you could barely take it anymore, before you had to gently push his head away.

"Joel." You whispered, staring at the ceiling as the white hot heat of your climax rushed over you. "Joel." You spoke it like a mantra. His name was a promise to you.

"Baby?" He climbed over you, weight supported by his elbows, and allowed the tip of his nose to gently brush over yours.

"Take me." You whispered, the palms of your hand moving to his cheeks. They were warm, and you could smell your pussy on his facial hair. You leaned forwards, kissing him, tasting your cum and his spit. A moan tumbled out of your mouth, straight through your teeth.

"Make me yours. Fuck me." You begged, although Joel didn't need any begging.

"Anything for you."

His boxers were off in the blink of an eye, and you glanced down at his cock. Tanned, slightly curved, hanging low and heavy, the mushroom tip gleaming with pre-cum. Your mouth was watering at the site, but his grasp on your chin moved your line of sight to his face.

Your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, and a soft gasp escaped you at the feeling of the tip of his cock pressing against your folds. He grinded against you, his shaft rubbing up and down the folds of your pussy, jolts of electricity causing you to shiver each time he brushed your clit.

Joel was teasing you. He was making you in to a mess. A mess all for him.

His eyes never left yours. Joel watched you lovingly, noses pressed tight, lips brushing past the others. You were as close as two people could possibly be, and you were unsure where his skin ended and yours began. Stray curls of his hair tickled your forehead, and your chests rose and fell in unison.

"I love you." His breath was hot against your face.

"I love you too-" He pushed his length in as you spoke, stretching out the lips of your pussy, hitting deeper than anything had before. You moaned out a wanton noise you had never heard before, nails gently digging in to his shoulders.

Joel sat there for a moment, heavy eyelids half closed. He was soaking you in, literally, allowing himself to relish in the feeling of being inside of you. Of being one with you.

He had not afforded himself many of life's pleasures. Not after Sarah had died. Not after he had let himself go. He had paced the same shore as you many moons ago, gun in hand, trying to urge himself to just put the barrel in his mouth and pull the trigger. It sounded so easy.

But something had stopped him. Something hadn't let him.

He had wondered, many years after that, why he hadn't done it. He had wondered what could possibly be worth living.

And then he saw you.

In that very same spot, rotting beneath the silver light of the moon.

It was you. Everything had been for you, hadn't it?

And now there you were, beneath him, as pretty as a picture, the embodiment of everything he had ever yearned for, everything he had ever dreamed for. You were everything to Joel, and he was everything to you.

And now there he was, deep inside of you. You were all he could feel, all he could smell, all he could see. You, you, you. The most beautiful thing he had ever saw, the most wonderful thing he could have ever waited for.

The shiver of your body brought him back down to reality. He kissed you deeply, and all you could do was smile against his mouth.

Lucky. That is what you were. That is what you both were.

"You feel so good." You whispered softly, hands gently running down the back of his head, finding a resting spot on the broad stretch of his freckled back.

Joel rubbed his cheek against yours, slowly moving his hips, grinding down against you, eliciting a sweet moan out of you. "Yeah?"

You both giggled in unison, and he watched your eyes shut as he began to pump deep inside of you. The feeling of your nails pinched at his skin.

Joel glanced down, watching his cock disappear into the depths of your cunt, sloppy noises of your arousal filling the air. Your pussy lips looked so pretty wrapped around his length, your wetness looked so pretty glistening off his cock.

You were made for him, and he for you.

"Take me, Joel." You begged, and his movement increased, growing slightly rougher as his forehead met yours, lips pressing together once more.

"God, you're so beautiful. So fucking beautiful. So fucking pretty. You feel so fucking good. This pussy.... fuck. Fuck, I never want to leave it." He was rambling through his thrusts, hand reaching down to rub at your swelling clit.

"Fuck me, Joel. Fuck me." You whined out, bucking up against the touch of his fingers as he fucked you harder in to the mattress.

"You're my girl. You're my beautiful fucking girl. God, you're everything to me. You're my world." His breath was hot against your face as he kissed you, coaxing you towards another orgasm with each rub of his middle finger across your clit.

"That's a good girl. I can feel you getting closer. I can feel that pussy tightening against me."

Your back arched off the mattress as you cried out his name, moaning as his praises filled your ears. Joel rested his face in the crook of your neck, hips slapping in to your thighs as he filled you up with every inch of his length.

"That's my girl, that's it, baby. Cum for me."

You did as he said. There was no use in holding back. As your orgasm rushed through, his own was approaching. Your name tumbled off his lips, the only word he could remember, as he came deep inside your walls. His hot cum filled you to the brim with a warmth you had never experienced, and Joel kept slowly pumping as his high rushed off, as his orgasm died down.

You shivered beneath him, another kiss being planted on your mouth. Then you cheeks. Then your nose. Then anywhere else Joel could get to.

A moan tumbled off Joel's tongue as he slowly slipped out of you, falling beside you before grabbing you and pressing you in to his chest.

"Stay with me."

"I always do." You whispered in to his chest.

"No, stay with me. Permanently. This can be our home."

"Our home." You whispered quietly, nuzzling closer into his body.

"Our home." He established firmly, resting his palm on the crown of your head.

The world would always spin, and sorrow would always lurk. That was how the world worked. That was the way of the universe. When you both awoke in the morning, the pain of yesteryears would still be there. The horrible, nasty tug of old memories and distant lives would always be somewhere deep within you.

The cosmos, however, were full of possibilities. You could have stayed in your parents home and succumb to a darkness greater than yourself. Joel could have drank himself to death or tasted the metal of a bullet. Those waves could have taken you, and he could have never decided to take a walk down to that beach.

There were many what if's.

But right now you were alive with passion, eyes wide and awake with a newfound love. The bitterness had gone, and something much brighter and better was waiting for you in the future.

Beside you, Joel Miller sat puffing on a cigarette, smiling at you through dreamy eyes. The sheen of sweat was still glistening across his chest, and the gentle smirk on his lips reflected the tales of a lovesick fool.

"Ready to go again?" He asked cheekily, handing you the smoke.

You took it with a smile.

For now, grief would have to wait.

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bluemusickid · 2 months

Text

Private Chef! Joel thots

ok so I've had this idea lingering for a while now, and the SAG outfit has just FUELLEDDD more of my thots!!!

Side note: (He has never looked sexier, how dare he age this well; how am I supposed to go on with my life; this is absolutely not fair)

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem!plus size! reader

Warnings: smut, mentions of sex, oral (f receiving), Joel Miller, 18+ only, minors DNI

Sharing a smallish drabble/thotty abstract, if you will:

Ok, so maybe Joel has joined your family as your private chef. After all, your parents are SUPER rich, so they might as well look and feel the part.

You had to admit, he was worth every penny your mother was paying him. Not to mention he was easy going on the eyes, which made your mother glad; she would parade him around her lavish parties to the "cougars"/bored rich housewives, something which made your eyes roll.

Little did they know that the ever so charming Joel was a FREAK with a capital "F" in the sack.

You honestly don't even remember how it happened. A few conversations here and there, he had offered to teach you how to cook and bake; and those lessons were often plagued by thoughts of him bending you over and having his way with you, leaving you throbbing and wanting. If you didn't know any better, you could tell that it was affecting him too. His voice got huskier, eyes darkening every time he looked your way. It was a game of chicken, almost, how long either of you could keep the distance before the inevitable damn bursting.

You had once gone to "ask" him "a cooking doubt", and saw quite a sight indeed. Gone was the prim and proper Joel, with his neatly ironed and clean apron and immaculate dress shirts. His curly hair was mussed up, his shirt slightly untucked and his top buttons undone; he seemed to be engrossed in a video, hie eyebrows scrunched together as his fingers kneaded some dough, prepping for tomorrow's party. It was honestly like porn, the way his strong arms kneaded the dough, his thick fingers making you nearly drool. It took all your strength to walk away from there before you embarrassed yourself and begged him to throw you to the ground and pound you into the ground, no matter how desperate that sounded.

And it had happened finally. Another one of your parents' shindigs, and you found yourself bored out of your mind, only half listening to one of your mom's friend's son, whose one semester in London had "like, totally changed his life." Excusing yourself, you made your way to the kitchen, topping off your drink.

You saw him there, again, making small talk with Angela, one of your mom's friends who just wouldn't take a hint. You'd never seen Joel this tense and yet Angela seemed oblivious, throwing herself at him, her screeching laugh loud enough to wake the dead.

You took pity on the man and made up an excuse on his behalf, beckoning him to join you, picking up a few wedges of limes on the way, an idea forming in your mind. He bid Angela goodbye, hurriedly following you before she engaged any further.

"...Whyyy are we going to your room?" He asked bewildered, hesistant as he stood at the threshold.

You shrugged, "figured you could use a proper drink, not the shit downstairs." Taking out two shotglasses, you handed him a rather large shot of Hendricks, your drink of choice to get "classy-drunk".

You toast, downing the smooth liquid as it left a slight burn. Wincing, you pour another, his eyes widening at the pour.

"I'm technically on duty."

"And i'm technically meant to like all the guys my mom has shown me, but life doesn't work that way, does it?" You quipped, clearly goading him.

One shot turned to two. Two to four. The party was long forgotten, the both of you pleasantly tipsy and unguarded. For the first time, it felt like Joel was opening up to you.

"If I didn't know any better, i'd say you were planning on getting me drunk, sweetheart." He drawled.

You smirked. Making your way towards him, you poured another shot, promising him it that it was the last one, and that he could go back to his job. He chuckled, knowing that he would a tough time walking to the kitchen, let alone serving the guests. Lucky that the crew took over for the rest of the night, huh?

Wincing, Joel blindly searched for the wedge of lime to soothe the burn. Opening his eyes, he saw your cheeky grin as you held the lime between your lips, challenging him to take the next step.

He nearly growled as he shuffled closer, your faces mere inches from one another. His fingers ghosted over your lips as he inched closer, his lips tasting the juice of the lime. Plucking the wedge from your lips, his mouth was on yours, urging you to open up for him. You groaned, tasting the citrusy hints of the gin along with the slight tang of the lime, your tongues weaving an intricate dance.

While the party downstairs was loud and had taken a rather raucous turn, up in your room, the only noise you could hear was the sound of harsh grunts and panting breaths.

When your mom had first hired Joel, you didn't understand exactly why she did so, because the chef you'd had earlier was perfectly fine. Now, you couldn't thank her enough for hiring him.

Joel had you pinned to your bedroom door, as he ate you out enthusiastically. Pulling your thigh on his shoulder, he doubled down on his efforts to get you to come undone. Running your fingers through his beautiful curls, you tugged on them as his wonderful tongue worked its magic on your swollen nub. He hummed, circling his finger around your center, urging you on.

Pulling your other leg on his shoulder, he moved to pick you up. You were uncertain about this, but he was insistant, picking you up like you weighed nothing at all. He didn't stop his ministrations as he dropped you on her bed, continuing his amorous assault.

This display of strength had you clenching and reaching your end in no time, as you moaned loudly, yanking on his curls to ground yourself.

"Oh baby, keep doing that, don't stop." He moaned, as he made his way up your body, leaving small kisses and nips along your thighs, your belly. He reached your breasts, taking a swollen nub in his mouth and sucking enthusiastically.

Looking down, you saw one of the most erotic sights ever. Joel worshipping you, his curls a wild mess, his pristine white shirt damp with your release and with a few buttons undone, coming untucked out of his tight black pants.

You groaned. You needed him so badly it practically hurt. Reaching down, you palmed him through his pants, as he thrust himself into your wandering hands.

Pulling his erect length out of his pants, you panted as you worked him over, stroking him as he moved his hips in tandem with your hands. His harsh breaths as he groaned and grunted through gritted teeth turned you on like nothing else.

"I'm close, sweetheart." He managed to blurt out, as you increased the speed of your strokes, tongue moving along his already sensitive head. He pulled his length from your grasp as he worked himself to his climax, yelling out and cursing as he came all over your breasts.

You were mildly disappointed that he held back from fucking you; hell, you were sure he was going to finally take that step and put you through the mattress.

"Joel, I need you. Please." You begged, the need to feel him fill you up dangerously high. You sounded pathetic, sure, but you were beyond caring at this point.

Joel smirked, catching his breath.

"I have to get back sweetheart. Your mom would kill me if she didn't see me in the kitchen."

You couldn't hide your frown as you watched him neaten up, running a hair through his curls. Joel leaving you high and dry was not how you saw your plan panning out. He was about to leave as he turned back, made his way to you, holding your chin between his fingers.

"But I promise you, this isn't over. Not by a long shot." He breathed against your lips, leaving a small peck as he left, leaving you weak and wanting for more.

Silently seething, you began to plot your next steps. Joel Miller wouldn't know what hit him.

Oh no i don't like it i don't think this is my best work but omg it's out there *runs and hides in a corner*

Will there be a part 2?? That's a great question. Honestly i think i could've done better so maybe i have a redemption arc as well lolol, who knows atp

450 notes · View notes

jiejies-corner-store · 22 days

Note

THE AVENTURINE FIC 😭😭 OH GOSH IM CRYING 😭😭

i’m so sorry, anon! here this should make it up 😭😭 the devil knows you're dead

pairing. aventurine x reader

tags/tw: fem!reader, references to a complicated childbirth, mother!reader, father!aventurine, spoilers to aventurine's real name, spoilers in reference to 2.1 trailblaze questline, aventurine’s nihilism and depression, references to death, hurt/comfort, ooc aventurine probably, i make shit up at the end because i want a happy ending—bite me.

sfw

a/n: ouchie. i finished 2.1 and it hurt. it hurt a lot. the ost for the “all the sad tales” is genuinely so beautiful. the trumpet just feels so melancholy yet hopeful it just goes so perfectly with aventurine’s story. but i need something that feels good now. ABSOLUTELY NOT PROOF-READ pt. 1

“As long as you are alive, the blood of the Avgin will never run dry.”

It was cold. Cold and warm. Almost feverish feeling. The type of feeling you’d get when you were freezing but your skin was hot to the touch. There was this frustrating beeping noise somewhere off in the distance that you just couldn’t tune out, finally you opened your eyes to see a sea of darkness, and seemingly at an unreachable horizon, a large circle of white light that looked like a gate.

“You’re not dead, if that’s what you’re wondering,” a voice came from beside you. How you didn’t realize there was a whole person standing next to you, you had no clue.

“Well, that’s not originally what I was going for, but now I’m a bit worried I might be,” you laughed, nervous, but curious all the same. This… person you couldn’t quite make out an exact face, or even a body for that matter, but ther was this distinct feeling that it was in fact a person. Like your instinct knew, but your brain couldn’t quite fill in the details.

“This is a place beyond mortal comprehension, if I tried to explain it to you, you would only be more confused. Walk with me,” the entity said, and without even willing your body to do so, you followed. Ripples emanated from each step as you followed and soon the inky void around you melted into an unfamiliar planet.

The sky was a deep purple, streaked with red that looked like lighting that crackled along the sky. Instead of the fluid, black ground, sand now shifted as you moved foward. Inside a small hut made of rock, you saw a woman cradling a swaddled child.

“Such a lucky child, such a blessed child… Just like your name. A gift from THEM to Avgin… my boy…”

You turned to the figure beside you and hesitantly asked, “Where are we?”

“A land of rock, but not water, lightning, but not rain, blood, but not tears,” the entity responded cryptically, which only caused a crease in your brow. You went closer to the mother in the hut and sat next to her. She whispered a blessing onto her child, but none of the words made sense to your ears. Similar to the entity, it’s like your brain scrambled them from your understanding.

The mother cried. You tried to wrap your arms around her to comfort her but only phased through her like a ghost. The baby too began to cry.

Then, the scene changed again, suddenly it was a cell with iron bars. A blond young man sat next to you. The blond’s gaze was downturned, but you could recognize that voice anywhere.

“—Thirty tanba… that’s all my life is worth.”

“That’s not…” you said, but realized it was all in vain. You tried again to take Kakavasha’s hands into your own. You wantd to take the cuffs off his wrists and cradle where the skin was rubbed raw.

“It's all or nothing…”

“Kakav—agh!”

Your future never existed You█ future never existed You█ future ne█er existed You█ fut███ ne█er existed You█ fut███ ne█er ████ted You█ fut███ █e█er ████ted Yo██ ██████ █e█er ████ted

Your mind felt clouded, a searing headache, followed by an inability to even pin down a coherent thought. The scene shifted once more.

“What’s going on!” you shouted at the figure that stood only silently next to you, crippled on the ground, clutching at your head, fingers pressing in to try to find the spot that would alleviate this awful pressure.

When your senses were no longer blinded by pain, you were back to that inky void you started in, but this time you weren’t alone. Not far away, maybe twenty feet or so, was your Kakavasha, and a woman you didn’t recognize.

“Why are we born into this world if it's just to die?”

You stumbled to your feet to try to run to him, but with each step closer he only got further away. He walked towards that gate of light. In your head, you heart was pounding faster and faster. You failed to catch up to him. He only got further and further away until he disappeared like fireflies dispersing into the night, “Kakavasha! No—!”

Utterly devastated, you sunk back onto your knees. You didn’t know why but you had this distinct feeling of loss. Tears rolled from your eyes freely. He… he wasn’t gone surely? The entity’s presence reappeared next to you.

“Why did you show me all of this,” you asked, not sure if you actually wanted an answer.

“Because you need to go back,” the entity answered and your jaw locked, gritting your teeth so hard they hurt.

You screamed into the void, “You’re the one who brought me here!”

“I never call anyone to me… you mortals believe that it is US that determine when your time to go is… but in truth it is your own doing, whether it is your body or your mind that gives up first,” the entity said, “It is only the strength of your will that will allow you to continue down your destined path… but many give up on that path and someone else must be chosen.”

“What does this have to do with me,” you snapped. “Why are you meddling in my life? What does Kakavasha have to do with this?”

“Kakavasha still has a long road ahead of him. I have supplemented his journey all his life. It was only recently he was able to live on his own will,” said the entity ”Your body is giving up. I do not have the power anymore to keep him alive. That lies with you.”

Your surroundings melted again. You were in a hospital room and on the bed was you. Eyes closed and steadily breathing, but your heartbeat was weak. The annoying beeping from before was louder and more prominent.

“You wanted to help him. During his past, you reached out each time. There is nothing you can do about that now, but the future and the present… you still have a choice.”

Laying a hand on your unmoving body, there was a slight resistance, but with just a bit more pressure you felt as if you could phase through it entirely.

“What do I need to do,” you asked the entity.

“Live.”

You furrowed your brow at that. Of course you wanted to live… right? The entity gestured for your hand, you obliged. Against your palm was an oddly soft feeling. Warm. Like a mother’s touch against your’s. Your palms pressed together, the entity spoke,

“May the goddess Gaiathra close HER eyes three times… Keep your blood eternally pulsing… Let your journey be forever peaceful… …and your schemes forever concealed."

You lifted your head and your “body” began to disappear similar to how Kakavasha disappeared. Just before you disappeared into sparks of golden light, you had the sense about you to ask:

“Who are you?” you felt like you were shouting, but your voice was quiet.

“You could call me Fenge Biyos.”

You opened your eyes with a deep gasp for air. Your surroundings were blurry, and you rubbed at your eyes, only to realize Kakavasha was up, standing next to your hospital bed with an anxious expression, hands already grasping the one that was wiping crust from your eyes.

“You’re awake,” he choked out, holding you as if you would break, “I’m so sorry… I’m so sorry for everything. I’m sorry I did this to you that I—”

“Kakavasha, slow down, what… why are you—no, don’t be sorry,” you finally found your words, sitting foward on the bed to wrap your arms around him. You racked your brain, trying to figure out what was going on. Your mind was still foggy, but finally that haze disappated and you remembered everything leading up to now.

“Kakavasha~” you hummed in a song-like tone, a small wrapped box with a blue and purple bow tied around it. You skipped over to his desk and wrapped your arms around his shoulders where he sat, and placed the gift in front of him, laying your head on his shoulder as your arms tightly hugged him. “I have a surprise.”

He smiled with a small laugh, “Doesn’t this usually work the other way around?” He pecked a kiss onto your check before pulling the bow off and opening the lid of the box, when he froze.

The smile on your face faltered bit when he didn’t say anything after a bit. The corners of it tightened into a more forced position, “Kakavasha? You’re gonna be a papa…”

The joy in his face from earlier had completely vanished. Only replaced by a stony, cold, poker face. He pushed his chair back and you stumbled into the wall behind. He gave you a tight smile and kissed your forehead before heading for the door and grabbing his hat. “I’ll be back later.”

With that, the door slammed shut behind him, leaving you at a loss as you fell into his chair, feeling suddenly so very empty in this large office alone.

He came back after that, apologetic for leaving you, but nothing felt truly right. He continued to reassure you that he did want to have this child, but it was a strenous time. The entire pregnancy was stressful. The doctors warned you that the level of stress you were under put you at risk for a premature birth, but you brushed them off. It was just the hormones, you were sure. Kakavasha still loved you. The ring on your finger should’ve been proof enough of that.

“How about the name Ilyas?” you suggested, laying your head on Kakavasha’s lap, “I was… looking at some databases about Avgin names and I thought that one was nice. What do you think?”

Aventurine hummed, but his mind seemed elsewhere. You let it go.

The next few months continued on in similar fashion.

But it all came to a head.

The two of you were standing in the kitchen. It had started off small. The hormones and the stress were getting to you. It was an off hand comment about him not fixing dinner, and you were tired and hungry from carrying around his child.

From there it had escalated. It turned into you were tired of feeling like you were walking on eggshells when you talked about the pregnancy. About how he was barely around for the appointments, and when he was he seemd emotionally distant… finally he exploded

“I never asked for this!” he shouted. “When did I ever say I wanted to be a father? Did you even ask me? Did you think about what I felt about this whole thing at all?”

You paused, feeling tears well up in your throat as a white-hot fear flashed through your body. You laughed, a hollow sound, “I’m sorry, Aventurine, I thought it took two people to make a baby? And you certainly made no attempt to use protection.”

He didn’t have anything to say about that. Even though the argument seemed over, you felt a nauseous feeling crawling up in your throat. Your tears felt like acid burning through your skin. Then a pain in your stomach. Your knees gave out and the last thing you remember was the scared expression on Kakavasha’s face before it all went dark.

“I was scared…. I was so scared that bringing another Avgin into this world would only bring misfortune onto you… that Gaiathra Triclops would take you from our child, just like my mother was taken from me,” he openly cried into your shoulder. “I took it out on you. I made something that should’ve been a beautiful experience something that was awful, and I understand… if you never forgive me for that but please…. please don’t leave.”

Now you were crying with him, one hand tangled in his blond locks and the other rubbing his back. Quietly, so quietly that you almost didn’t hear it, he whispered, “I can’t lose you too.”

You thought for a long time. In front of you wasn’t one of the Ten Stonehearts of the IPC. Not a calculating or cunning man, who’s only interest was in things that benefited the IPC’s bank accounts. In front of you was a broken man, who’d had everything stripped away from him when he was only a child. Who was shattered and forced to put his life back together with nothing but fear and anxiety as glue.

Did it excuse what he'd broken?

No.

“I’m here… I won’t leave Kakavasha,”

But maybe with time and effort, you could help re-glue each other with something a little more beautiful.

“Ilyas! Don’t run so far!” you called after a small blond haired child who was already ahead of you by a longshot, you turned exasperatedly to your husband, “Honey, can you go after him please? I don’t want him to get trampled by some idiot who’s not paying attention…”

The man only smiled at you, one hand firmly wrapped around your ever expanding waist, “It’s okay. There’s some of my squad that’s following him incognito. He won’t get out of our sights without them dragging him back. We can let him get his energy out. He’ll be cooped up in a hospital soon.”

You huffed conceded. Already tired from just getting through the theme park’s entrance. You were due in about two weeks, but Kakavasha was insistent that a week before you’d be under hospital supervision until you brought your second child into the world. It had taken about five years before the two of you had healed enough and there were roadbumps along the way… but you were both ready to give Ilyas a little sister.

But for now, the two of you wanted to let Ilyas have one more day as an only child. The reconstructed Penacony was nothing like the Dreamscape of the past. Fear and secrets no longer were trapped in the gilded cage of the former prison planet. With the help of the IPC and the Harmony, New Penacony was entirely real. No more dreams, just reality. They’d kept many of their old franchises and built a true theme park.

“Mama!! Picture! Let’s get a picture here before we go in!” Ilyas screeched, pointing at Clockie statue in front of the Clock Studios main attraction. You set a hand on Kakavasha’s arm, glancing up at him to try to get a read on what he was feeling. He’d let you in on the parts of his past that he’d kept a secret. The scheme behind Penacony, his proposed “death” and his encounter with his Past and Future.

He took a breathe and looked back down at you, giving you a smile that said “I’m okay” and relief flooded your bones. After walking you over in front of the camera, he crouched down and scooped Ilyas into his arms.

“Ready?” the cameraman asked and you nodded. After a brief countdown the camera flashed, and for a moment in that bright light, you saw the hopeful future that lied ahead.

#aventurine x reader #hsr aventurine #honkai star rail #hsr x reader #aventurine x you #hsr 2.1 #penacony

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anemptypuddingcup · 7 months

Text

Taming That Demon.

For @kingofthe-egirls

Sanji x Vampire!Reader.

Contains: !!DARK CONTENT AHEAD!! <- (Somewhat) Dub-con. Minor blood warning. Vampire!Reader. Somewhat bratty & confident Reader. Reader pissing Sanji off. Brat taming. Vaginal and anal sex. Fingering. There’s definitely some edging in here. Degradation. Slight asphyxiation just for a few seconds. Cream-pieeeee~ Slight overstimulation. Really focuses more on Sanji’s anger. Sanji and Reader getting together in the end. A sweet yet abrupt ending. A bit of messy writing?

You didn’t think such a man was so desperate for a date. You didn’t even know Sanji for that long and he was already asking you out on a date. You were wonderful to him, beautiful in fact. He couldn’t help but to ask you out and make reservations for you both as soon as you both became friends.

You weren’t interested in love from him at all, but it seemed to be worth your time.

During the entirety of the date, he spoke about how alone he was due to his perverted tendencies.

At least he realized that.

But the more you listened to him the more you began to gain and interest in him. From his thick French accent to his wonderful cooking abilities, the blonde man was trying his best to win your cold and dark heart over and into his warm embrace. As he sat there and enjoyed your company, Sanji began to notice how odd you acted. You didn’t order nothing but wine and you looked rather nervous as the minutes passed by.

He tried his best to shake the feeling off, but nothing could possible shake your odd behavior away from him. “Is everything okay love? Are you sure you’re not hungry? All you’ve been doing is drinking wine all night, that’s not good for your empty stomach.” He tells you worrisomely, his eyes soft on your figure show you stared at him with a dead-pan look in the eyes.

“I promise I’m just not hungry cutie~ Tell me more about yourself please love~”

He just couldn’t shake the feeling away.

After the date, his heart pounded for you and yearned for your attention. He hoped that you would go home with him and even if you didn’t take anything beyond the date, just your company was fine for him.

“That dinner was so good! Ah- Why didn’t you eat anything though sweetheart?” He asks, looking deep into your eyes. You turn away from him and blink a bit. “I…I just wasn’t hungry that all~ I keep telling you that sweetheart.” You reassure him, smiling nervously to Sanji. Sanji presses a hand to your shoulder and quirks a brow. “Would you like to eat when we get home then? I can cook something for you~” He asked, looking at you.

You thought about it for a moment. If he’s taking you back to his home, there was a chance that you could finally be fed after a while with no luck. “You’re taking me back with you?” You asked, quirking a brow to the curly-browned man. He turns and smiles softly before taking your hand. “Of course I am, unless if you don’t want to then I’m fine with that sweetie~” He beams, a deep blush dusting his cheeks as stares into your eyes.

You smile softly and waffle your hand with his, your arm wrapping around his waist while he stares down at your pretty figure. “Well, I’m fine with that if you are Sanji~” You hum, smiling to him and hiding your dark intentions.

What an idiot.

Though you’ve never met such a cute gentleman like him before. Not only that but his French accent was pulling you in, he was quite the looker for someone who seemed to be…a pervert. Nonetheless, all you wanted from him was his blood. You just wanted to get your fill and leave, that was it. “Shall we my love? I can’t wait to cook you a nice meal once we get home~ I’m sure you’ll eat something then~” He hums, pulling you along with him.

“I can’t wait to taste your cooking then cutie-pie~” You smile to him, laughing to yourself on the inside. You followed him as he guided you to his home, a small yet pretty house in a dark corner of the street. His hands dug around in his pocket before pulling out his keys and unlocking his door. He opens it and allows you to go in first before he slowly follows behind you.

“This is my home love, I’m hoping you don’t mind sitting on the couch.” He says sweetly to you, scratching his head nervously. You smile to him and walk over to the couch before setting yourself down on the soft cushions below. Sanji follows and sets himself beside you, giving you a sweet look in his eyes before he scoots closer to you. “Y-You’re pretty sweetheart…” He whispers to you, a bit embarrassed at his approach.

You giggle before staring into his eyes, now noticing the strong scent of his cologne along with the nervousness in his eyes. You cup his face with your cold hands, his cheeks burning up and transferring the warmth to your hands. “You’re adorable yourself Sanji, did you want something? A kiss maybe?” You asked, enticing him with your words and pulling him in closer to you. Sanji’s heart pounds and he freeze from your words before blinking blankly to you.

“W-Well- I wasn’t going to force you…I was hoping to get you comfortable first…” He admits, laughing nervously. You chuckle at his kindness before pulling his face closer to yours.

Sanji presses his hand behind your head before pulling you in, pressing his soft lips against your glossy ones. You mewl out as he gives you a soft kiss, his lips feeling like heaven against yours and making your body tremble. You press your hands against his shoulders, gripping them as he bit your bottom lip. You pull away and press smooches against his neck, making him moan out.

“Mhh! S-Sweetie!?” He mewls, sliding his hands up your back. You softly trail your fangs up his soft and pale skin and he shivers. “M-Mgh~ Y-You’re teeth- t-they’re a bit sharp~” He says shakily, pressing his hands up against the back of your neck. You giggle to him before quickly sinking your teeth into his neck, a gasp leaving him before his eyes widens from shock.

It catches him off guard and he felt the sting of the bite as soon as you had bit him. “AH!- F-FUCK-“ He yells out and grips your hair out on instinct, making you moan out suddenly.

He flails around, a few gasps leaving him as he begins to breathe heavily against you. A whimper leaves him as he already felt rather lightheaded, his arms wrapping around your body and surprising you in the process.

“It’s hurts! Fuck! It’s hurts! Get off of me!” He yells, yanking and pulling hard on your dress to the point where it would tear. His hands tears the fabric of your dress while you gripped his shoulders tighter, slurping up all you could before he’d eventually pass out. His grip begins to loosen and his hand slowly slides down your back before he whimpers out. You mewl out and finally remove your fangs and noticed a few tears pricking at his eyes.

You cover your mouth, a little snicker leaving your lips as he held his neck. “W-What the hell!? W-Why’d you- Mhh…” He yells but stops suddenly, his vision beginning to fade and grow blurry. You smile softly to him and move in closer to him, causing him to shoot up from the couch and back away from you. You sit back down on the couch, crossing your legs and looking up at him with a dark glare. He sighs heavily before moaning out in pain, still a bit stunned from the sudden attack.

“Your blood is rather tasty Sanji. I didn’t think yours would taste so rich.” You admit, laying your head in your hand. His curly brows furrowed and he grabs the leftover remains of your dress with one hand before pulling you close. “You almost killed me, you witch!” He scoffs, his eyes looking deep into yours. You giggle to him before pulling his tie, your breasts pressing up against his chest which causes him to blush a bit. “I’m a vampire sweetie pie, see the fangs?” You asked, pointing to your now revealing fangs.

“Y-You- So that’s why you didn’t eat at our date.” He says, now putting his two realizations together. “I prefer blood…Though I don’t mind a sweet dessert here and there~♡” You hum, licking your glossy lips. He turns away from you, gritting his teeth as he felt himself falling deep into your trance. You were a charming young woman. It was too bad that you were a vampire, he would’ve loved to have you and keep you around in his house.

“You need to leave.” He huffs weakly, his hand rubbing his neck wound as his eyes began to lose a bit of color. His neck bleed crimson out onto his palm, staining both his tux and his carpet. He begins to stumble and rock around, a soft sigh leaving his lips as he feels himself growing weak. You tilt your head and smile to him before letting out a chuckle.

“You couldn’t even kick me out without passing out sweetheart.” You giggle, wrapping your arms around him to prevent him from falling onto the floor. He sighs out and presses his hands against your shoulder, trying to use you for balance as he felt himself wobbling around. His bloodstained hand coated your skin, the blood cooling your skin in that one spot.

He looks down at you and bites his bottom lip, pissed at himself that he hadn’t seen your intentions sooner. You flutter your lashes and look up at him. “You’re getting weak Sanji…You should probably sit down…” You warn, sliding your hands beneath his tuxedo. He huffs heavily before pressing his body far against yours, his body trembling against yours while he whines out from weakness. “W-Why’re you still here…? Are you going to finish me off then…?” He asks, struggling to get his words out.

You chuckle and set him onto his couch, crawling onto him and setting yourself into his lap. “I admit, I’ve already grown on to you…You’re a handsome young man~” You compliment him, your hands cupping his face once more. The weakness in his face made a fire start up in your lower tummy, as if he wasn’t pretty enough from the get-go. His pretty blue eyes stared up into yours before he sighs out.

He’s a goddamn fool.

How could he let this happen to himself in his own home…? Maybe if he was more cautious and stopped letting women walk all over him, maybe he would’ve seen through you at least a little bit…but it was just something about you and it wasn’t because you were a vampire.

You lick your lips and smiled at him, your cunt beginning to soak your panties from the arousal brewing up. His face was turning you on, god his fucking face. His weak and pale face just made your body heat up and shudder against his. “Fuck you’re such a handsome man, I don’t know how much longer I can keep myself contained.” You gasp out shakily, sticking your thin tongue out at him. He stares at you with dark eyes and his hands press up against your shoulders.

“Y-You…You goddamn...” He huffs, his hands trembling against your skin, unable to finish his sentence due to the weakness spreading throughout his body. His head drops down and a bit of sweat falls from his face as he breathes heavily, struggling to keep himself composed from a loss of blood. You laugh at him and pepper a smooch to his sticky forehead, sitting him back up and lying him back onto the couch. “You should save your breath sweetie.” You whisper to him before giggling.

You softly grind your cunt against his slacks and he groans out, unable to really do much while you slide your slutty cunt against his growing erection. You feel him grow hard beneath you and you hum before licking your lips, sliding your tongue across your fangs. “You can’t help but to get like this when a woman’s on top of you, can you Sanji?~” You tease him, sliding your fingers along his belt before unbuckling it. He mewls out softly, his brows quivering slightly along with his lips.

You giggle and unbutton his slacks, your heart beginning to pound as you began to yearn for his cock. You pulls his slacks and briefs down slightly and his cock pops out, the cold air hitting his tip making him gasp out suddenly. You hum in arousal before stroking his cock, feeling every detail of his length before you pull his slacks and briefs down a bit more.

“Such an adorable cock you have Sanji, and it’s pretty long too~” You mewl, jerking his cock off while he sat there and began moaning out. His legs shuddered as your soft hand stroked his cock, his moans spilling from his softly lips while his face begins to scrunch up from the pleasure. “F-Fuck~” He curses to himself as he softly yet weakly bucks his hips up into your hand. You suddenly stop and he whines out, wanting to gain some type of friction.

You giggle at his displeased expression before sliding your panties out of the way, holding his cock in place before slowing sliding down on it. The sudden feeling of your pussy enveloping his cock causes him to gasp out, your tight walls sucking his length in. You mewl out as his length kisses your cervix, filling you up more than it needed to. You slowly begin to move your hips, a few gasps leaving both you and Sanji.

Sanji weakly places his hands against your hips and sighs out as you began to bounce on his cock. You moan out as you felt his soft hands a rub up against your skin, a sigh leaving your lips as you began to move a bit faster. Your breasts begins to bounce and you press them up against Sanji’s face, his body beginning to burn up as his eyes began to roll up from the pleasure and the soft feeling of your breasts.

“Hehe~ Look at you~ You’re so adorable aren’t you?” You chuckles to him, cupping his face while your breasts lie against the lower half of his face. “How do my breasts feel against your face? I can feel your face burning up against my skin~” You hum, a soft moan leaving you as you continue to bounce on his cock.

Sanji didn’t know how to feel about this altercation…He enjoyed the feeling of your breasts up against his face, your soft skin causing him to huff out heavily. The feeling of your pussy around his length only made everything better.

But part of him couldn’t help but to feel offended with your teasing…

“M-Mhh!~ Your cock is so wonderful~ I wonder why you haven’t been able to grab a date recently, is it because you’re such a lousy and perverted man?~ Hmm?~” You ask, your hand combing through his pretty blonde locks. A sudden soft and pale hand grips your wrist and his crispy blue eyes glares up into yours with anger.

He’s just about had it with your shit-

Your eyes widen and you gasp out from his sudden movement.

“Mh!- Sanji! L-Let go!- Let go of me!“ You yell, flailing around and trying to pull your wrist from his tight grasp. He pulls your breasts away from his faces, and frowns at you. “I’ve just about had enough of your shit woman.” He groans angrily, taking your words and teasing to heart. He hated the fact that you were teasing him and somewhat mocking him, this isn’t how he wanted his night to play out.

He preferred it if you were softer and not making fun of him for being alone and for the fact that he was a pervert.

He tries his hardest to please a woman even with his distasteful qualities, it could be sexual or not. But you’re in no place to make fun of him and mock him for the fact that he couldn’t necessarily find love in his life.

“Y-You piece of shit! Let go of me already!” You yell angrily to him. “Oh and you aren’t? I’ve been having to put up with your shit ever since you bit me! So just be a dear and sit back while I fuck my cock into you like the pathetic little slut you are.” He shoves you off of his lap and you fall back onto the couch cushions, his hand pulling your wrists above your head while you squirm around and yell at him.

He pins you down against the couch and slides his cock inside of your cunt with ease, making you whimper and moan out abruptly. “Some nerve you have pretty lady. I don’t know who you think you are coming into my house and degrading me, but it just pisses me off!”

“So apologize and I just might grant you forgiveness by fucking your worthless pussy, you fucking slut.” You eyes were widened and you felt your heart ache a bit from how embarrassing it was to be degraded by him. You sadly underestimated him and you didn’t think he would react such a way just from all of the teasing. “Do it! Fucking apologize!” He demands slamming his cock into you and making you gasp out loudly.

You look up at him with slight fear in your eyes, a bit surprised at how mean he had gotten off all you’ve done. Then again, how could he not be?

A hand to your throat causes you to choke out and his eyes practically pierce your soul as he glares at you. “Do it.” He demands, his grip on your throat growing tighter. You whimper out as you struggle to breathe and you whine as you begin to squirm around.

“I’m sorry…I-I’m s-so sorry…” You choke out, a hard and deep kiss to your cervix making your eyes roll up. He smiles darkly at you before full on laughing at your embarrassment, his hand releasing from your throat. You turn your head away from him and whine out, throwing your head back as your cunt tightens around his length. You were so embarrassed yet you couldn’t help but moan up a storm while he fucked his anger out into your cunt.

His thrusts were hard and had heavy force impacted into them, your hip was starting to grow sore just from his harsh grip alone. He was just weak a moment ago…and it only took a bit of teasing to get him fired up. “S-Sanji!~” You moan out his name, a few tears pricking at your eyes as you felt him continuously kiss your cervix. He gets all up in your face, giving you a snarky smile as he enjoyed and relished in your reaction. You were so adorable when you were falling apart on his cock.

That’s when a lightbulb went off in his head.

He slowly removes his cock from your cunt and you suddenly whine out, a string of slick connecting with to his length from your pussy. “Hush hush. Be quiet for me.” He whispers, his eyes admiring your body beneath his. You looked so upset and vulnerable, and he fucking loved it.

“Flip over for me. Now.” He demands, his tone firm yet serious as he glares at you. You shivered and obeyed, turning over onto your stomach while you felt his soft hands rub up against your ass. “Lift your hips.” He demands, the sight of you slowly lifting your hips making a smile appear across his face. Your body shuddered as you worried for what he was going to do next. Part of you wanted him to continue fucking you like some cheap whore, but you waited for his next move with slight fear brewing up in your lower tummy.

You feel him spread your cheeks opens before he spits out onto your hole, making you jolt suddenly before turning your head back to him. “Turn back around, don’t look at me. Just sit there and wait.” He demanded, his tone making you jump before you turn back around and away from him. You held the couch cushions tightly as you felt him slide his length along your rear entrance, humming out before he slowly began to push in.

You gasp out suddenly as he took it slow, sliding his length into your tight hole before he began to thrust inside. You let out a soft gasp with every thrust he took, and those gasps slowly began to grow into pleasureful moans. He groans out as he thrusts into your ass, his chest pressing up close against your back as his thrusts grew deeper inside you. “Ah~ F-Fuck Sanji~” You moan out to him, his hands waffling on top of yours while he fucks into your ass with delicacy.

He groans out behind you, his breath hitting up against the back of your neck while his curly brows furrowed as he felt your ass tighten around his length. “S-So good~ You’re so much better when you’re put in your place~ My little slutty sweetie pie~” He chuckles, squishing your face with one hand. You growl at him but it was quickly cut off with a moan, his cock going deeper into your ass and making you tighten up. You push your ass up farther into his hips, wanting him to go even deeper inside of you.

You moan out lovingly as you feel his thrusts increase in speed and you drool out onto the couch. Your cunt tightens around nothing but air as your body begins to rock from the intensity of his thrusts. The sticky sound of Sanji’s hips snapping against your ass only turned you on even more and you gasp out as you felt one of Sanji’s hands reach around to stimulate your clit. He pulls out once again, making you whimper out in displeasure and he giggles before grabbing your hips.

He sits down onto the couch and beckons you to sit on his lap, his eyes glancing back and forth between your pretty ass and pretty eyes. “Here, sit back onto my cock sweetheart~” He hums, smiling to you. You obey without delay, slowly lowering your ass back onto his cock before fully sitting onto his lap. You mewl out heavily as he moves your hips, bouncing your ass onto his length while he groans out in pleasure. “Lift your leg for me sweetie.” He whispers to you, one of his hands trailing down between your inner thighs.

You obey and lift one of your legs, allowing Sanji to slide his fingers into your cunt making you throw your head back before gasping out. He fingers your pussy, grinding his fingertips into your g-spot while he continues to fuck your ass. Your body shudders heavily against his and moan out as your eyes begins to roll up from the pleasure. “Sanji!~ Oh fuck Sanjiiii!~” You moan, your face scrunching up as you felt yourself reaching your climax.

Sanji huffs out and throws his head back, his legs trembling as his cock begins to twitch in your soft and tight hole. “H-Hah~ I feel you tightening, fuck it feels so good~” He groans out, his curly brows furrowing as he breathes out shakily. You gasp out and your toes begins to curl as you feel yourself ready to squirt out onto his fingers. “Mmgh!~ O-Oh! I-I’m- I’m gonna!~” You moan out and your cunt tightens around his fingers as you finally reach your peak.

“Cum baby, cum on my fingers and my cock~” He demands, thrusting his fingers deep into your pussy. “I-I’m cumming~ O-OH FUCK SANJI!~” You shudder against his lap and moan out as you finally release, squirting out onto his couch and his slacks while your breaths grew heavy. Sanji’s continues to finger your cunt through your orgasm and he huffs heavily as he holds your hip tight. “F-Fuck~ I’m cumming~ I’m gonna cum!~” Sanji huffs out and breathes heavily, his thrusts growing rough and fast as he chased after his orgasm.

Tears began to prick at your eyes and you felt yourself wanting to cry while he fucked both of your holes with his cock and his fingers. You arch your back and gasp out, whining as he shoves his fingers hard against your g-spot. “S-Sanjiii!~ S-Sanji!” You whine out his name, your hands gripping his forearms while your back begins to arch. Sanji curses to himself as he finally felt himself climaxing, his groans loud and breathy as he keeps you up against his cock.

“F-FUCK~ F-Fuck sweetie I’m cumming!~ I-I’m cumming!~” He lets out a silent gasp as he finally shoots ropes of cum deep into your ass, filling you up while you whine out from overstimulation. You began to feel full as he came into your hole, his cum practically spilling out of you and onto his lap while he empties his balls deep inside of you. He finally removes his fingers from your cunt, a gasp escaping you due to the sensitivity and overstimulation.

You began to hyperventilate and you struggle to gain your breath back, a whimper leaving you as you rest your head back against Sanji’s shoulder. Sanji smiles and presses his hands against your shoulder, pressing a smooch to your cheek. “Breathe sweetie.” He chuckles, amused at how you were now all whiny against him. You frown at him, sighing heavily as you sat up from his shoulder.

“Ah ah~”

Sanji grips your shoulder and pulls you back closer to him.

“You didn’t apologize sweetheart-“

“Yes I did! Yes I did now let me go!”

“Do it again, just to make sure~”

“Over my dead body!”

“Do it and I’ll let you get another bite then~”

You sigh heavily at his ignorance. “N-No…” You huff, crossing your arms and turning away from him. Sanji chuckles as he feel you tighten on his cock. “You know you like my blood sweetie, you said you liked how rich it was didn’t you?~” He whispers, making you tremble against him. You groan out before sighing in defeat, turning around to him pressing a smooch to his lips.

“Fine…I’m sorry. For staining your suit and your floor.” He apologized, a chuckle leaving you. “Not for biting me?” He asked, quirking a brow to you. “Well I’m not going to apologize for that if I’m going to keep doing it, cutie pie~” You giggled, sliding your fingers along his fresh neck wound.

He chuckles and pulls your closer to you, making you mewl out. “You’re so cute when you’re tamed~” Sanji hums, pressing a smooch to your lips. You sigh out and giggle, running a hand through his soft blonde strands.

“I guess having you around would be less of a hassle to find rich and delicious blood such as yours…” You hum, smiling to him.

#puddingspookyseries #one piece #one piece smut #one piece fluff #op smut #op fluff #one piece x female reader #one piece sanji #op sanji #sanji smut #sanji fluff #sanji x reader #vinsmoke sanji

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echos-gal · 4 days

Text

ok i'm rapidly losing hope that Tech is still alive, and this sucks because it was basically the top thing i desperately wanted from this season. i wanted to see him survive. so here's my exhaustive and embarrassingly long list of reasons why he SHOULD still be alive, and if he isn't, why it was a missed opportunity. obviously no hate to the writers or anything, i love them dearly for creating this show!!!

(if you're a "Tech should stay dead for the stakes/so someone in SW stays dead for once/i hate delusional Tech stans" person, kindly keep scrolling, this ain't for you)

SEASON 2:

right from the start, Romar connects with Tech and calls himself "a survivor." HELLO???

in this same arc, Tech breaks his leg in a fall which he survives. he continues to walk on it, fighting off troopers to save Echo & Omega, showcasing his persistence and grit.

one of Phee's first lines is "better late than dead," and we know she shares a connection with Tech. she flirts with him later in this scene. it would be a shame not to reuse this line, i'm just saying....

Cid still owes Tech for racing for her in Faster. we see Cid looking miserable as she betrays the batch in Plan 99, so her playing a part in his rescue/comeback would be a nice way to show her growth. (i'm afraid there isn't enough time for this, though- as much as i thought a Cid redemption was on the horizon!)

Phee and Tech's departure is awkward, and although we have some context from season 3 (they talked more than we realized), the scene would do best if reconciled in person imo. it felt like it was setting up for something, and feels weird to leave hanging.

"don't go running off with any pirates or smugglers" could not have just been a throw away line. it set up for him to do exactly that. how fitting would it be if pirates or smugglers actually did manage to pick him up before the empire made it to the railcar crash site?

Hemlock's retrieval of the goggles shows that he sent a team to look through the wreckage. he thought there was a chance Tech survived, and may have him.

i won't go into the logistics, but big falls ARE survivable. in star wars especially. we have no idea what was below the layer of clouds/mist Tech fell through.

SEASON 3:

this is mostly CX-2 centric. their armor is very similar: the jaw/mouth shape, the hexagons over the ears, the rectangles on the chest, and the pouches/pockets.

"domicile." that is all.

CX-2 uses technology more than the other operatives we've seen, and he gets past the encryption on Phee's ship with ease.

"who are you?" was enunciated in the exact same way Tech says it to Trace and Rafa, which i definitely think was intentional.

CX-2 stops to use his rifle scope in the exact same spot where Tech and Phee stood to let down the ladders in the sea surge on Pabu.

he survives a waterfall plunge on Teth, which appears to have fooled Rex's group into thinking he'd died. the writers could have killed him off there and sent a new operative, but they chose to stick with CX-2 pursuing them to Pabu.

it's worth noting that while this CX is designated as "2," Tech's CT number is CT-9902. he is associated with the number even on a visual level: he's a dual-wielder, he wears goggles, he salutes with two fingers.

FROM A STORY PERSPECTIVE:

firstly, i am sorry and i LOVE the writers, but if you want people to accept a character's death, you've got to show his family and friends' grief. we saw no reaction from Crosshair or Phee, no tears from Hunter or Echo. it feels like fans were sadder about Tech's death than the characters in the story.

Tech seems to have been mentioned more in the second half of season 3 than the first half, which works if they want to bring him back in the finale.

the finale is called "The Cavalry Has Arrived." i really don't think you can have the cavalry (aka the bad batch) arrive without every member present. i also don't think it would feel right to play their theme without Tech there. idk, that feels incomplete!

we saw no body, and Hunter received Tech's goggles not from a trusted ally or friend, but from Hemlock. this calls into question the legitimacy of his claim that the goggles were "all he could salvage."

Tech alive and being held on Tantiss would provide a nice parallel to Echo in the first mission where we meet the batch, in TCW. and [ep 14 SPOILERS] we see that Echo is currently looking more like his TCW self, with his earpiece removed.

feels kinda sour that a character who a lot of people related to as neurodivergent representation would die just a few episodes after having a deep conversation with his sister about it.

likewise (and as a white woman i can't speak for WOC), from what i have seen, Black women are rarely the main love interest of a series! Phee is the ONLY love interest in this whole show, and it would suck to just cut off that romance before it could really become something. a lot of people wanted to see TechPhee become canon.

CX-2 is the one who destroys the marauder. it works well storywise for its pilot to have been the one to do that- the person who worked so hard modifying it, flying it, and teaching his sister to fly it. i'll be lowkey pissed if it turns out some random dude blew it up.

it's also CX-2 who invades and sets fire to Pabu. this is emotionally gripping on its own, but if he is Tech, it's even more so.

we have no idea what the operatives go through. Crosshair isn't telling, but it clearly put him in a really bad place. if Tech underwent this conditioning in his post-fall injured state, there's a chance he could come back from it. Emerie is probably the key to this, if they take the CX-2 route.

this show is all about a family trying to stay together as the Empire desperately tries to rip them apart. seeing the whole family together again - even if not everyone survives - in the finale is the satisfaction that the show ideally would go for. the last time they were all together was the season 1 finale. that was about 2 years ago in the show's timeline.

leaving Crosshair and Tech's final interactions be where they parted on the Kamino platform also feels off. Tech was the one who really vocalized the need to rescue Crosshair in season 2's finale. Crosshair, in the meantime, has changed significantly as a person. Tech's comment about Crosshair being "severe and unyielding," and unable to change this facet of his nature, is incorrect. leaving Tech dead would mean that he never gets to see this change in Crosshair, which makes me feel like a deflated balloon.

FROM MY SELFISH PERSPECTIVE!!!

give me Tech with cool scars and slightly disheveled longer hair. this is such a good opportunity for the creators to give him a sweet new look!

we never got to see Tech without his goggles on, despite Phee constantly referring to his eyes. he definitely doesn't have them right now (they're in the Archium), so we could get Mister Big Brown Eyes if he's alive. it's another missed opportunity if not, imo!

the goggles being placed in the Archium was a beautiful scene that makes me tear up whenever i think about it. it's symbolic, it's bittersweet, and it's exactly where the goggles belong. but was it closure for me? not really.

Tech is a character who became a LOT of people's favorite in season 2, including my own. why kill off a fan-favorite with an entire season to go?

yes, i desperately want a Rex and Echo series. yes, i want the batch to cameo in it, and yes... that includes Tech. making up for lost season 3 Tech content 😎

the finale will feature the zillo beast, and Tech loves the zillo beast. FREE HER! REUNITE THEM! he would love to witness her rampage.

FROM A "SURPRISE!!!!!" PERSPECTIVE

it seems like most people think Tech is either CX-2 or dead. it would be a great finale twist if we DID get CX-2's identity, it's NOT Tech, the audience loses hope, and then he shows up. i think this is actually plausible given the other assassin schematics Hemlock was looking at in Point of No Return. Tech might be in Hemlock's grasp, but not an active operative. having an enhanced clone to toy with is something Hemlock would want to keep under wraps. we see him step out of the assassin chamber at the start of that episode - if Tech is anywhere on Tantiss, i think it's here.

i think the writers have expected us to have all lost hope by now, so his finale reappearance would ideally come as a shock. the finale is almost guaranteed to be a very long episode, so we really might have quite a bit of time to explore his return, if it happens.

secret 16th episode: i know, i'm putting my clown makeup on as i type this. but the previous 2 seasons each had 16 episodes, with a two-parter finale. season 3 is just 15, with a single episode finale. TBB formally ends may 1st, so what if we get a may 4th surprise episode detailing how Tech survived? (that or an epilogue leading into a new series, which i think is more likely actually!)

#i definitely forgot some points but i just need to post this and be done with it #feel free to add your own observations 👀#tbb tech #the bad batch #tech lives #techphee #tbb spoilers #the bad batch spoilers

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lynderman · 1 year

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𝘼 𝙁𝙤𝙧 𝙀𝙛𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙩 (Xavier Thorpe)

Pairing: Xavier Thorpe x Fem!Addams!Reader

Word Count: 2.8k+

Date Published: 12/9/22

Synopsis: You’ve always been 2nd place. First place for losers. Attending Nevermore was supposed to change that.

A/N: (I was so confident writing this, and I feel like I went down a rabbit hole because some shit doesn't even make sense. So idk if it’s good or not. It also isn’t proofread 💀)

Part 2

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“Vi, are you still free after fencing today? I thought I’d take you up on that offer and go down to Jericho to get-“

“Sorry. I told Wednesday I’d meet her in the nightshades library to look for a certain book.” My smile instantly vanished as he said her name. It’s not that I hate her, no. I could never. We’re best friends! Well, as close as best friends could be to Wednesday Addams. I didn’t have a reason to hate her; But I did have more than enough to be jealous. Ever since we were kids she’s always been able to one-up me.

It started with small things like getting better grades in school. Then to committing higher and bigger crimes. And it eventually reached the point where I felt like everyone in the family preferred her to me. Even my own dad! Her precious ‘Uncle Fester’, the only one who made her smile. He made everyone smile though. Every time he came home from one of his jobs, I’d get a pat on the head and Wednesday would get a hug. His niece got more love and affection from him than his own daughter did.

I thought maybe, just maybe when I came to Nevermore I’d be able to fit in. Be my own person! Make my own friends, be someone who I wanted to be. Not living in the shadows of my cousin; Being known as ‘The other Addams?’ Or ‘Wednesdays’ Cousin!’ And I was for a while. For a whole year I was just known as Me. I wasn’t compared to anyone or told to be better. In fact I was great! Fantastic, even.

I’d made captain of the fencing team, like aunt Morticia. I was first chair in almost all my classes. I had friends of my own and was always asked to hang out. People were interested in me. They wanted me for me. Especially Xavier. God, Xavier. He was drop dead gorgeous. His long hair that framed his face so perfectly. His hazel eyes so full of hope and warmth. The smile that was always on his face when I walked up to him or when we hung out. He made me feel so happy and appreciated. Just loved and seen. I would do anything for him because I know he’d do the same for me!

Or so I thought.

The second that Wednesday showed up to Nevermore, any hopes I had of asking him out or just anything suddenly vanished. Like everyone else in my life, I was soon replaced by her darkening and compelling image. He became so infatuated with her. Our afternoon runs were taken away and replaced with him hanging out with her. He sat through and listened to her crazy theories all day and looked at her like she hung the stars herself. The same way he looked at me once.

My fists clenched my bag and I held back the urge to scream on the spot. Now the one time we were both free was taken away by her again? She wasn’t even a nightshade so that isn’t fair. “Have fun with that. I’ll be by the lake if you feel like I’m worth your time today.” My words seemed to get his attention because he finally looked up from his sketchbook. I caught a glimpse and saw it was an another drawing of Wednesday. He opened his mouth to say something but I walked off before he got the chance to. Or cry. Whichever came first at this point.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The sun shone directly onto my face as I continued to write down the finishing lyrics to my song. My plan for the day was to hang out with Xavier and show him my new music for my violin. He knew I played an instrument but he didn’t know what it was or that I sang. So I thought it’d be a good time to surprise him! But of course my plans were ruined thanks to Wednesday. Again.

Letting out a grunt of frustration, I threw my pen into the lake. “What’d the pen ever do to you?” My attention turned to Xavier’s voice behind me. I listened to the sound of the leaves crunch and stop before he sat down on my blanket beside me. I didn’t ask him to, but I always found it hard to be upset or angry with him. Peering over my shoulder he asked what I’d been writing. “Just some music. I was gonna go back to my dorm and see how it turned out.” He didn’t need to know I wanted him to go back with me.

“Really? Can I see it?” Hesitation filled my body but I still gave him the notebook. His hands flipped through my pages and the words. I prayed to god he didn’t under Latin. “You never told me you write music.” I shrugged and turned back to the lake. “You never bothered to ask.”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

We sat at the lake for a while and just talked. It was nice; Feeling like I got my old friend back. The way he laughed at each joke I made and seemed to be genuinely interested in my topics made me realize how hard I’d fallen for him again. “Speaking of hair-“ He reached out to twirl the white strand in my black head of hair between his fingers. “Did you just decide it was a cool fashion statement or something?” I laughed lightly and shook my head.

“No, no. Back in 6th grade I was doing a science experiment, Y’know the one where you dissect frogs right? I was cutting him open and i just electrocuted myself without realizing it. That’s when I found out I’m like my dad. The whole lightning and shit. But I can do this weird thing with weather too where-“ I paused when I realized I was getting off track. “Anyways. I zapped myself and some shit happened with my hair when I did. It was only this piece though.” Laughing I turned the other way and buried my head into my knees. “I’ve tried to dye it back but it never works. All the other kids would make fun of me and say I’d get cancer or go bald. I dunno why though, that doesn’t make sense.”

What didn’t make sense was that I was basically Trauma dumping on Xavier for no reason. All he asked about was my hair and got some sob story in return. There was silence for a moment. I knew I overshared and he’d think I’m just some attention whore. It took me by surprise when he put his hand on mine, making me turn to face him. “I think it’s cool. Makes you stand out.” The blush that spread across my face was inevitable. Like an idiot I asked: “Really?”

A smile broke out in his face as he nodded. “Do you still wanna go to Jericho? The shuttle leaves in about 20 minuets? We can go to the weathervane and maybe check out that new music store?” My stomach was filled to the brim with butterfly’s, warmth spreading throughout it. Play it cool, play it cool. Don’t freak out. Just say that sounds fun. “Yes! Of course. I’d love to.” I mentally face palmed myself with the joy in my voice. It felt like a movie moment. Was this him asking me out on a date? Xavier finally got the balls to be the one to initiate it? No thoughts were going through my mind as my body leaned closer to his, him doing the same.

I could smell his cologne and feel his breath on my face; A mere 6 inches between my lips and his. Just as mine were to meet his, a phone rang. His phone. He blinked and apologized before picking it up.

“Hello? Enid? Since when did you call me? No, I’m not. She was busy so I’m at the lake, hanging out with-“ Xavier paused as Enid’s voice rose over the line, his brows furrowing as she spoke. I couldn’t hear what was going on. “Yeah, sure. Give me 7-8 minuets and I can. The quad or the courtyard? Mhm, sure.” He lowered his phone and hung up. “What’d Enid call about?” Standing up he began to brush himself off. “Wednesday asked her to call me since she doesn’t ‘want to be a slave to technology’. Said something about her finding a new lead on the monster and to meet her in the nightshades library.”

“But didn’t you earlier?” He shook his head. “No, she needed to do something else and talk to someone.” My lips pursed and watched as he grabbed his sketchbook from beside my bag. “Can we uh- rain check on Jericho?” All the butterflies and warmth my stomach were replaced with dread and insect repellent. “Again?” I muttered. “It’s nothing personal, I just need to-“

“No it never is with you is it? I mean do you even care about anyone or anything other than Wednesday?” The words left my mouth before I could process what I said. “Sorry?” Now I was standing up, arms crossed as I spoke. “Sorry? Oh shut up; Stop playing dumb. We both know you’re not so don’t try to bullshit your way out of this.” He took a step closer to me and looked down, irritation and confusion clouding his eyes. “What’re you talking about? What’s this even coming from? Why’re you getting so worked up about us hanging out?” Scoffing I took a step back from him.

“I’m getting worked up about this because you hang out with her all the time and not me! I’m constantly being ditched and put to the side cause you wanna go waste your time who doesn’t give a single fuck about you!”

“Don’t say that. She does but just act-“

“Acts distant and cold? Stand-offish and uninterested? She’s like that with everyone. What makes you think you’re any different to her? Do you think you’re special or some shit? Wednesday’s been like this her entire life and she’s certainly not going to change for some moron of a dude.” Xavier’s face only showed confusion as I spoke. “Oh come on. Don’t tell me you can’t put two and two together? Wednesday Addams; (Y/n) Addams? How many Addams’s in this school do you know? If you named more, I wouldn’t be surprised since you seem to pay attention to everyone else other than me.” “Not everything is about you (Y/n).” He snapped.

“You’re right. It’s not! It’s always about Wednesday. Everything is. It’s always ‘Oh, have you seen Wednesday? I’m looking for her.’ Or ‘Do you wanna see this new drawing of her? It looks better than the last!’ Anything that comes out of your mouth is about her! Have you ever noticed how you put me next to her? Below, If you will. She plays cello and you draw her. I play violin, but you never bothered to ask because you’re too busy talking about how good she sounds. You go with her to Jericho to get coffee while I’m left behind doing schoolwork. Everywhere I go I’m beneath her. I’m compared to her, I’m belittled because I’m not as edgy or mysterious as she is. My family seems to like her more too. My own father loves her more than me! Can you imagine that, Xavier? Having to live in the shadow of your little cousin because she’s so much better than you at everything? I thought the name I made for myself at Nevermore would stick! I’d have my own friends and interests and not be known as the other Addams girl. I thought that I could get away and have shit of my own! BUT NO. I CAN’T.”

The air around me felt chilly and vast, a small breeze inclining as my voice got louder. “But it’s never going to happen. Everyone will always choose her over me. I’ll always be second to her. And it’s not fair. It’s not. I try to hard at everything. Especially when making friends. I’m almost on my knees trying to get people to approach me but she just has to stand and glare at people and suddenly they’re wrapped around her finger. Like you. You’re just another string waiting to be pulled by her; Following and doing what she says like a lost puppy. You look at her with such admiration and longing in your eyes. Maybe if you turned your head the other way and fixed your eyesight, you’d see that’s how I look at you! If you weren’t so fucking blinded by her borderline manipulative tendencies you’d notice I’m the way with you you are with her.”

My hands were moving with immense exaggeration as I spoke. The feeling of static shooting through my veins when I threw them down to my sides in anger. “Look, I’m sorry. Why don’t we talk about this and-“ A short circuit of lighting extended from my fingers when I held my hand up to him. “This isn’t a two way conversation right now. It’s one where you listen to every word I say because that’s all I’ve ever done for you, especially ever since Wednesday’s gotten here-“

Speak of the devil, and she’ll arrive. Looking to my left I could see her standing a few feet away from us. “I think your feelings for Xavier are getting in the way of our goal, (Y/n).” I deadpanned. “Our goal?” She didn’t answer my question, only asking another one in its place.

“How would your father feel if he knew you were letting your emotions get the better of you?”

“Gee, I dunno. Why don’t you ask him since he was with you early in the nightshade’s library!” She said nothing. “He finally shows up after being on the run again and stops to say hi! Not to his daughter, but his niece.”

“It’s not my fault if Fester approached me and not you.”

“It’s never your fault is it? Nothing ever is. You’re just perfect Wednesday who’s above all others. Especially her cousin who’s done everything in her power to help her with her bullshit conspiracies. I’ve been on your side since day one. Believing in your shit when no one else would. And how do you thank me? By stealing the few people I have In my life away from me. Again and again. It’s a never ending cycle. And I never bother to break it because we’re family, Wednesday.” The overwhelming emotion of anger and hatred died down, the slight breeze fading completely. Now it was just cold and quiet. Water began to drop onto my clothes and belongings. When I looked up I realized It was raining; But only on me. As cliché as it sounds, there was a small storm cloud hovering above my head. Hence the weather thing I was telling Xavier about earlier.

“Do you know what you struggle with, (Y/n?).” Laughing, I faced Wednesday again. “No, but I’d love to hear your piercing insight on it!” “You don’t know when to turn your emotions on and off. You let them consume and confuse you. How you’re just a fool with a slow heart; Putting out love for others only to never get any back.” The rain became heavier as she spoke, each drop hitting harder against my face. “I understand that emotions are a foreign concept for you, Wednesday, but you don’t have a right to talk about mine if you don’t have any.” Is what I’d like to have said. But it isn’t. It was more along the lines of:

“Maybe you’re right. I do love too much because no one has ever given me any. I hope that one day you’ll think about all of the love I’ve given you, and maybe feel generous to reciprocate it.” Turning from her I grabbed my bag off the now drenched blanket and sling it over my bag. “The same goes for you, Vi. When you come to your senses and realize that I have and will still do anything to get a small sliver of your validation or time, my dorm room door will be open.” I meant to passive aggressively hand him his sketchbook back, but it was really just me shoving it into his chest. I didn’t dare look back at the two as I literally stormed off into the forest.

The sun still was shining around me even as I made my way back to the courtyard, through the quad, and up to my dorm. The cloud only got bigger when I was alone in my dorm room. Sitting in my shower I thought. Thought about how Wednesdays’ right. Despite ending up with nothing, I’ll still give everyone else everything I’ve never gotten in hopes someone will one day do the same.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

#xavier thorpe #x reader #netflix #wednesday addams #xavier thorpe x reader #angst #fanfic #reader insert #wednesday #enid sinclair #xavier thorpe x you

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saltofmercury · 1 year

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Pairing: König x reader

Plot: You’ve been talking to König for a while but when will he make the first move?

A/N: I love this one. I just love it. I hope you love it too.

"Just a little patience"

The first few months of getting to know K were like pulling teeth. He was a very personal and reserved man. The few things he did share with you were that he went by his last name König. He told you K was good if you didn’t want to address him by his last name.

He was from Austria, it was clear from his accent that one night. He told you a little bit about his family, but it wasn't enough.

He was an early bird and usually up at 4am greeting you with a “good morning” and continuing the conversation from the night before. He would send you pictures of the sunrise when he was usually off to the gym to workout. By the time you woke up at 7:30, you had his undivided attention and the conversation would start flowing throughout the day.

He liked Greek mythology, astronomy, dogs, working out, and meditation. He disliked lying, karaoke, and chewing gum. He was in bed by 9pm and by 9:15 he stopped responding.

He told you he worked in the military, and didn't say much about that. The message he wrote was simple,

“What do you do for a living?”

“I’m active in the military.” He said.

“Oh, is there a specific job you do?”

“No.”

It was strange but you felt the need to not pry into his job too much. Military was already a sensitive subject in your world, and it didn’t seem like he wanted to elaborate. So you dropped it and moved on.

Another thing you did notice was that he had yet to make the first move. Well, you couldn’t be that tough on him, he did approach you and give you his number after all. But through your back and forth texting, there wasn’t ever any follow up to it. Not a dinner date. Not an invite to his house. Not even a cup of coffee. You felt as if the ball was in his court now since you had texted him and continued to text him every day. A surprising thing though was the conversation never once died out or turned dry.

One day after the 3 months of texting, he surprised you with a text that read:

“Will be leaving in a couple of days on a work related matter. I would like to take you out.”

Your stomach dropped. You quickly messaged him back:

“How long will you be leaving? I would love that! Where should we go?”

He messaged back:

“I’ll be gone for about a month.”

A month? What could possibly take that long for him to be gone? Why did he choose now to suddenly get to know you in person after you had been talking back and forth morning and night?

You hesitated. Was this even going to be worth it?

You saw the gray bubbles pop up on the screen and die out. The bubbles popped up again, disappearing again.

You decide to message him back:

“A month seems like a long time.”

“Yes it is, which is why I want to see you in person.”

This was one of the only opportunities you were going to finally see him in person. You caved.

“Okay. What day were you thinking?”

The days leading up to your first date were nerve wrecking. He had been pretty cryptic about the whole day. He said you guys were going to have dinner and to dress comfortably. He gave you an address to come to.

The whole thing turned you off.

First, this guy had the nerve to text back and forth with no phone calls, no photos of himself, and he didn’t even have a full name to look him up on social media.

Second, chivalry was dead. He wasn’t picking you up but he told you to come to an address. When you looked up the address it was a house up on a hill.

That’s not strange at all you thought.

Until you kept overthinking this whole ordeal and put the pieces together. Secluded house on top of a hill? He gave you an address to come to? He has no way of tracing anything back to him?

You started to feel sick. Well of course there was a reason he never showed his face late at night… and at the grocery store…. He only ever sent you pictures of skies… were they pictures of how the sky looked when his victims perished that day?

You text him quickly

“Don’t think I can make it on Friday night. Might need to reschedule.”

30 seconds later:

“Oh. I thought you said you had the night available?”

You panicked. You had sounded excited and even told him you had canceled plans to leave work early.

“I think it would be best to reschedule.”

No response. 3 minutes later:

“Is there something wrong?”

You bit your lip. You had to be honest with him.

“I don’t like the idea of going on a date with someone who barely makes an effort to tell me about themselves and now they’re inviting me to an unknown house up in the hills.”

5 minutes pass.

“Would you prefer your house then?”

What was wrong with a PUBLIC PLACE?

You started to feel sketched out about all this.

“Listen König, can’t we meet somewhere public? It isn’t helping me right now that you want to meet me alone in an area with no people surrounding us.”

7 minutes pass.

The bubbles appear and disappear again. Finally, a response.

“I’m sorry. I was thinking of myself. I’ll find something else we can work with.”

You felt relieved. Okay so this guy wasn’t a serial killer… he was actually pretty flexible and understanding. You feel bad now.

Another message sent through to you:

“Observatory. 6pm. Can’t wait to meet you.”

The work day had come and gone and you were on your way to the observatory.

You were nervous. The good thing was that you knew he would be able to be spotted within a crowd.

As you parked your car and headed toward the building, you saw him.

He’s standing there dressed up. He’s wearing pants, dress shoes, and of course, a turtleneck above his ears. He’s also got some sort of fabric tucked under his arm and a backpack on. He’s staring up at the top of the building, hands in his pockets. He looks like a statue, but you can see the way his shoulders and chest rise up and down.

Now you felt dumb that you didn’t bother dressing up. You came casually…

Your nerves hit you and you decide to text him.

“I can see you.” Sent.

You watch him from a distance.

He pulls out his phone, you can see his eyebrows rise. He messages back:

“Are you planning on running into me with your cart again? Is this a fair warning from you?”

You smile and you feel your cheeks start to blush.

“Not today, I’m headed towards you.”

No less than 5 seconds after you send it to him he turns in your direction.

You start to feel the heat rise from your cheeks to your entire face. God, did you ever notice the color of his hair? The way his sweater fit so tight around his fit body? His bottom of his face remained covered but his eyes and eyebrows gave away enough.

This was one of the most exciting yet scariest experiences of your life.

“Hi” you stop in front of him with a smile.

“Hi.” You can hear the accent in his voice. You see his ears again get red. He’s attempting to make eye contact with you but you can see he’s staring at the top of your head.

“Come now, we’ve got a small place reserved.”

He takes your hand and leads you behind the building.

The people around there stop and watch him. There are eyes on you both. You hear murmurs and whispers. As he leads you away to a small area surrounded by plants, and in front a skyline of the city. He unwraps a blanket and sets the backpack down.

“You may sit,” he says softly.

You sit on the blanket and watch him. He sits half on the blanket and half on the grass. His legs taking up most of the room in front of him. He unpacks the backpack — a small picnic.

You’re giddy and can’t stop smiling.

“I packed you this,” he says softly. He proceeds to stare forward and has his arms extended behind him.

“Are you not going to eat?” You ask

“I ate earlier. I only packed for you.” He says sheepishly.

You look at the spread before you, he packed cheeses, grapes and pears, two small jars of jam, and a freshly baked bread. It was still warm.

You suddenly feel self conscious.

“You’re not … you’re not going to eat?”

He keeps staring forward but responds,

“I’m sorry I didn’t know what you would like. I made my best assumptions based on your cart at the market.”

You laugh.

“So you were peeking?��

He turns and stares at the top of your head again.

“I did.” He says quietly. “You buy a lot of sweets. Apricot cookies, chocolate wafers, and Oreos.” He turns back.

He speaks again

“I want to be honest with you. The address I sent you was my house. I admit it was a bit forward. I was thinking of myself.”

Well now you feel stupid.

“No, no it just took me off guard.” You bite your lip and proceed “You sometimes give me no context or details.”

He’s still staring off, but you can see his eyebrows pinching together.

“It’s important to be honest. I know. I’m practicing to communicate better.”

You can feel the push inside you, you want to say it, you want to sooooo bad.

“Why did you decide after so long to meet me? I’m kind of upset because if I had known that picnics and sunsets were in the deal, I would've loved to get to meet you in person sooner.”

He’s still staring off in front of him. You can see him inhale and exhale slowly.

“I…” he starts off

“I don’t know how to do these things…” he exhaled

You stare at him.

“I’m new to all of this,” he admits quietly. “I don’t know how to be with another person that I don’t know at all.”

You look at him. He looks defeated, sad, and helpless.

He turns back to you and looks at your eyes but stares back at your forehead.

“But I want to try it with you.” He says finally.

You smile wide and he turns away.

The night crawls over you two, and he starts to pack up. You help him fold the blanket and he walks you to the car.

He stands behind you and you say, “so when will I get to see your face?”

His eyes sort of open wide, but he says calmly

“If you have patience with me…”

He grabs a hold of your hand and places a kiss on it through his turtleneck.

“I promise I’ll be worth your wait.”

#konig x you #konig x y/n #konig x reader #konig #call of duty #konig imagine #konig modern warfare #konig headcanons #konig cod #konig mw2 #konig call of duty

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acotar-taylorsversion · 2 months

Text

Thoughts and Takes As I Re-Read the ACOTAR Series

This is extremely long and I have been typing it for weeks now. These are just my thoughts and I am typing them as I go. If you read it, I hope you enjoy it and maybe we can agree on most things. I would really love to hear everyone else's thoughts, too! 🙂

I don't feel like people blame papa archeron nearly as much as they should. It should not have been any of the sisters' responsibility to do what Feyre did. And after reading Nesta's POV, I don't blame Nesta for being so cold and hateful towards her father.

Lucien annoyed me so much in ACOTAR so much so that it was hard to like him in ACOMAF but I really tried to like him and give him a chance when Sarah made him Elain's mate and I realized that he could have a big role in ACOWAR.

I believe Tamlin had his redemption arc in ACOWAR when he saved Feyre and Az when they were rescuing Elain and then again when he saved Rhys. But I don't think Sarah will explore his story and she might be keeping him alive right now so that he can die at the right time.

After what Tamlin did to her and then allying with Hybern, I don't blame Feyre for ruining his court. He deserved it.

I don't think Ianthe suffered enough and I think that Nesta or Elain should have been the ones to have killed her.

Elain and Az were obvious to me in ACOMAF, just like Nesta and Cassian were and I was truly truly shocked when sarah made Lucien Elain's mate. I believe that there is so much more to that night than we know about and we'll learn about it when we get to Elain & Az's POVs. I believe that the bloodbane in Az's blood was killing him and nullified any bond that could have been there even before Elain was turned. Az was shot with the arrow before they went up to the throne room and that is why Lucien showed signs of mate behavior once Elain showed up. I believe the cauldron was wrong.

That being said, I tried to give Lucien a chance in ACOWAR and he just gave me the ick when talking about Elain. It didn't feel right to hear him say that he wanted to "see if she was worth it." Like she should already be worth it. Don't hesitate. I just did not see it at all.

I think that LoA will be the one to kill Beron. Don't know why, but I just feel that she will lose it and run to Helion.

Sarah had every opportunity to set Elucien up and she didn't. I believe she set them up for failure from the get-go. She instead focused on Elain and Az. I could do an entirely separate post about Elain, Lucien, and Az.

I believe Mor and Eris are mates, especially after what was said in ACOSF. I believe that he knows that she prefers females and wanted to save her from a loveless, unsatisfying marriage. I do think that he handled it wrong. Like that whole situation could have been handled so much better.

I think the whole Mor, Az, and Cassian situation was extremely weird. And now that Cassian is with Nesta and Az could possibly be with Elain, maybe Mor can finally move on and be free and not hide anything anymore. I wish that Mor would have talked to Nesta in ACOSF and explained and apologized for everything. Maybe she'll sit both the sisters down and talk about it one day.

I think Amren and Varian are cute together, but I think Amren should have stayed dead. Sarah is notorious for killing and then unkilling her characters and I think that gets old. I believe that sarah brought her back as a way to keep the summer court involved with the night court and to have a "know it all" character.

I think that Feyre and Rhys have a true, soul mate, true love, fairytale mating bond and I think Nesta and Cassian have a more realistic one. Feyre and Rhys fell in love before the bond was accepted and Nesta and Cassian were just beginning to fall in love before the bond was accepted. Lust and attraction and the pull of the bond is what truly brought them together but they quickly fell in love with each other.

I hate all the hate that Nessian is getting. People who say that Nesta should get with Eris literally make me sick and I want to throw ACOSF at them. They obviously need a to read it again. People need to realize that Nesta was in the wrong in HOFAS and Rhys had every right to freak out like he did and Nesta needed to be yelled at for that. I don't blame Cassian for not stepping in. And people forget how sarcastic Nesta is and they actually take her seriously when she said that Rhys debated executing her. Like do yall really think Cassian and Feyre would allow that or that Rhys would do that to his brother and his mate?? Like come on now.

Speaking of Rhys, I don't think he was wrong for keeping the danger of feyre's pregnancy from her. As a mother of 3 myself, I would be terrified every single day if I knew that my pregnancy could end with the death of myself and/or my baby. Like I would not want to know. Pregnancy is stressful enough as it is, even with healthy ones. And this is why I don't think he was wrong for freaking out on Nesta. I mean, he almost lost his mate, his son, and his life like what, 6 months before that? Like I can't imagine how scared Rhys is every day knowing that he almost lost everything and then Nesta gave a STRANGER a MADE OBJECT from the trove and could have LOST IT to the ASTERI who could have come to their world and DESTROYED them all. GIVE RHYS A BREAK YOU GUYS!!!!! I love Nesta, love her to death, but she was wrong for that.

I have my thoughts on Gwyn. I think she's a lightsinger. I think that is what Az's shadows react to, just like Nesta reacts to her. I don't think her and Az are mates. I don't think she's attracted to Az at all. I think she wants to prove herself to him because he did see her on the most traumatic night of her life. I think she wants to prove to him and everyone around her that she is and can be strong. That's it. There is nothing more to her and Az other than trainer and trainee. I also think that Merrill is the one manipulating everything and everyone, including Gwyn who might not know that she's a lightsinger. I think Merrill is working with Koschei.

Even after all the books, I still believe that Elriel will happen. There's just too many canon moments for me to ignore to see the possibility of Elucien. I only say elucien because gwynriel isn't a canon couple. They are not canon at all. The only thing that elucien has going for them is their bond.

I think Lucien will reject the bond for Elain. Lucien isn't a bad guy. I don't think he'll fight for Elain when he knows that she does not want him or their bond. He won't let Elain become his mother. I think he will find happiness with Vassa and they will be like Elide and Lorcan.

I believe people who support elucien only care about Lucien. I mean, how could you think that Elain wants to be with him after reading the books?

Based on the story of Koschei, it's not crazy to assume it will be 3 sisters and 3 brothers. Sarah is a very predictable writer and this is what most of the fandom has expected since ACOMAF and Koschei being the last big bad confirms that. Especially when you add in Vassa and Lucien into the mix. Just read the story of Koschei and tell me I'm wrong.

I believe that Az is experiencing the effects of a mating bond with Elain. He acts more like her mate than Lucien does and there's canon proof of this.

I believe the only reason Rhys stopped Az and Elain that night was because 1. he was convinced he would die with Feyre when she gave birth and didn't want his court to be in this war with the autumn court and 2. he is a political figure and he is using elain's bond as leverage with lucien. I believe that if Elain expresses to him how she wants to reject the bond, he would support it and accept Elain and Az.

I hate how everyone focuses on Gwyn and forgets about Emerie. I don't understand why people think Gwyn would be involved with the Illyrians. She is not Ilyrian and even though she finished the blood rite, she has said she does not want that illyrian warrior title. After what she went through during the rite, I don't see her being involved with them in any way. I do believe we will hear about Emerie doing something more like that. She could be an inspiration to Ilyrian females. Speaking of the Valkyries, I don't think they should have won the blood rite. It was very unbelievable. It would have been more believable if they had hid the entire time and waited for Cassian to come find them when the week was over.

Speaking Gwyn again, I think most of her fans overhype her too much. I like Gwyn and I'm glad that Nesta has her as a friend because she needed that. But I don't think we'll ever get her POV. I mean, we heard her story. We know what happened to her and we know pretty much everything about her. We know that she doesn't want that warrior title and she went back to the library not even sure about going to Nesta's mating ceremony. I think her fans forget this. I think they see her as a self insert character. I think they over sexualize her way too much. I'm not saying that SA survivors can't have a sex life so don't come at me. I just don't think she's going to want to be tied up with ribbons while Az holds her down and "ravages" her. The same male who seen what she went through that night. That just makes me uncomfortable. I think Gwyn would be embarrassed by the majority of her fans.

I will another post about that bonus chapter because there is so much to discuss.

I hate the amount of hate Elain gets and the side of the fandom that hates her does not deserve her. There is so much to learn about her and her powers and what goes on in her mind and I can't wait for her book.

I also think that papa archeron unknowingly traded Elain and/or Feyre and Nesta in his deal with Koschei for Vassa's temporary release.

I don't understand how people could hate feysand or any other members of the inner circle. In my opinion, if you hate them then why are you reading the series?? Why are you still here?

I don't think that sarah will make Nesta or Elain an actual queen or high lady. I think that Rhys and Feyre will always be more powerful than them and I think they will be High King and High Queen when the series is over. I can't see sarah making the sisters having the same amount of power or say as much as Feyre. She has always been above them. That has been obvious since the beginning because she's always protected them and taken care of them.

If you guys remember my other posts, then you will know my thoughts on how I think the rest of the series will go. Like elriel, vassien, koschei, the queens, the prison, the dusk court, the trove, all that. Elain and Nesta are the keys and Vassa should be the one to destroy Koschei. Rhys and Feyre will be High King and High Queen with nessian and elriel at their sides and everyone lives happily ever after.

What do you guys think?

#acotar #nesta archeron #cassian #nessian #elain archeron #elriel #pro elriel #azriel shadowsinger #feysand #archeron sisters #rhysand #feyre archeron #gwyneth berdara #lucien vanserra #vassa acotar

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mr-leach · 5 months

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Thinking about how Ulder Ravenguard was so dead set on hating his son for not being a perfect replica of himself that he refused to listen to a single thing he said. He will not even consider listening unless you, a complete fucking stranger, step in to advocate for him, and even then it's an uphill battle. No amount of love or respect Wyll has for his father is enough to grant him any sort of grace; choosing his own path was so much of a slight in Ulder's eyes that Wyll might as well not even be his own son. The only surefire way to get him to understand is to literally break into his mind and show him what happened, and once he finally sees reason what does he do?

He immediately decides on what Wyll should do with his future now that he's back in daddy's good graces. Even sends him to go and finish a quest he himself started to prove his worth. Sure, when Wyll "fails" he acts forgiving, but his attitude is still that Wyll is just a younger version on himself and should act accordingly. Well now that you've earned forgiveness, son, you can get back to business as usual, clearly... regardless of whether that's what Wyll wants for himself or not.

Like. I have a lot of thoughts about this. For one, I have to wonder if Wyll hadn't made a pact with Mizora, or had made a pact with a divine or neutral patron rather than a devil...how long would Wyll and Ulder have actually maintained a good relationship after that night? Like, Wyll has this habit of talking about his childhood and adolescence in that...barely-fond manner. You know, where the person telling stories feels like they're sharing a sweet or funny anecdote, but to everyone else it sounds... miserable. There were parts of his upbringing that he surely enjoyed, but it is deeply overshadowed by a cloud of resentment that Wyll himself barely recognizes. He loves his father, and truly respects and looks up to him, but it's evident from the stories he shares that Ulder treated him more like a student than a son. Wyll was his protege more than his progeny, it sounds like.

And the way it affects how Wyll talks about himself is heartbreaking. He puts himself down all the time, makes self deprecating jokes, or makes unhealthy predictions of what others might think of him. The only time he doesn't...is when he talks about the Blade of Frontiers. He loves the work that he does so much, he is so passionate about being right on the front lines protecting innocents and doing away with evil, and he even takes pride in his decision to make his pact with Mizora because it's that power that he uses to help people. Like gosh, even when fretting over how others might perceive his devilish form, he concludes that, if people see him as a monster, then they'll get to watch a monster fight evil and save people's lives. It sounds cheezy as fuck but oh my god. Like talk about feeling inadequate and unloved but choosing a path for yourself that you can be proud of in spite of all that.

And then, just thinking of that reuniting exchange in and of itself, and just. You can tell just how used to being shot down Wyll is, even though he really, truly wants his father to understand him. And it takes actually forcing Ravengard to witness what happened to make any progress. Many of us wish we could project exactly what we mean or feel or experience directly into the mind of someone we're trying to get through to. And still it's like he can't see past his own selfish perception of Wyll as an extension of himself. Wyll seems satisfied in the moment, but it's apparent that he's still been misunderstood despite being forgiven by his father. It sucks.

#bg3 spoilers #wyll ravengard #bg3 #baldur's gate 3

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sangwooooh · 5 months

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Why won’t you speak?

“Even dead they ignore you, huh?”

This is the second part. If you want to read the first part, the link is at the end. Sorry, it took me a while :,)

Warnings: character death, mental issues, grief, child neglect (?), disability (m/n is using crutches because of the injury he got from an accident in his younger years). Canon divergence … ? Regardless, I’ve changed things. also, the addition of Roy Harper ;)

“Close your eyes for a second, won’t you?”

M/n chuckles, “What do you want, Roy? Don’t we have anything better to do?” He closes his eyes nonetheless. Wouldn’t hear him say it out loud, but M/n will probably do anything if it was Roy who asked. That’s how the two of them are.

“Just…,” there is some shuffling. What is that man doing? “Just bear with me for a sec.”

“Fine, I’ll indulge you. But it better be worth it.” M/n added as more of a joke at the end. It wouldn’t even matter if it was worth it or not, if Roy considered it so.

Roy sighs and touches M/n’s shoulder, slides his fingers down to his hand and holds it, squeezing it softly. Then the touch is no more and M/n is left feeling cold.

“You can open your eyes now.”

“I’m married now, by the way.”

“What?!” Jason stands up in shock. He clears his throat because some heads turn his way. They are in a public place, after all. A dingy bar, but still public.

“Yeah. Who would’ve thought, huh?” Roy plays with a small lock of his hair as Jason sits back down.

“It’s… something.” Jason coughs.

Roy pushes his friend slightly, no ill intention there. Jason laughs that laugh of his that leaves Roy stunned. An almost fragile smile graces the redhead’s lips and he can’t help the sigh that escapes him.

Jason swirls his drink, a low quality beer that doesn’t even get the job done, but it’s cheap and it’s alcohol so whatever, “She’s one lucky girl.” He looks straight at the queasy liquid and feels a lump forming in his throat. A tiny one, the one he gets from time to time, at the thought of what his life could have been. He can’t even comfort himself with the idea of another Jason in another world living happily in his stead. He doesn’t believe he is that lucky. Entertaining the thought only brings something close to nostalgia for what has never happened and… well, how would he even begin to explain?

He gets another push from Roy, one that pulls him out of his thoughts. “Hey!” Jason exclaims.

“Look at you assuming!” Roy ruffles Jason’s hair.

Jason pushes Roy’s hands away from his freshly washed hair.

“Who ever said they were a girl? I’ll let you know that I’m the lucky one to have my hubby.” Roy is presenting the most disgustingly precious heart eyes, almost making Jason visibly shudder.

Once Jason gets Roy off him he fixes his hair (not really doing much, but whatever) and downs the rest of his drink. He leaves some money on the table, nodding to the bartender (poor guy was trying to wipe away some stain that was probably never gonna leave that sorry excuse of a bar), who nods back.

“Let’s get out of this shithole.”

“Uh-Uh, okay.” Roy quickly downs his apple juice, cringes, then leaves his own payment on the greasy table.

As they walk down the dark streets of Gotham, Jason looks at the smogged up sky, can almost see the clear moon if he squints.

“How’s he like?”

Roy sighs dreamily, “My life’s been pretty shitty after you ‘died’, but he helped me get better. He is… I wouldn’t know how to explain it, but there is no need for you to worry, Jason. I’m finally at peace, I would say.” Jason’s friend ends on a sadder note and Jason thinks that, perhaps, he thinks of it too, what could have been.

Jason clasps a hand on Roy’s strong arm, “You’re good. That’s what I need to know.” He smiles at the redhead who looks close to genuinely crying. Tears gather in the no longer child’s eyes too, but Jason doesn’t let them fall. Memories are blurred, but some spring up now that he looks Roy in the eyes. If they hug it out and some tears slip, it’s for only them to know.

M/n cooks breakfast for Bruce, Tim and Alfred, as he does every now and again, whenever he stops by the manor. Roy doesn’t complain and, of course, he joins, aiding his hubby with the help he needs. When Bruce tries to keep him at the door, Roy can always use the I’m part of the family now argument.

Speaking of Roy, he’s been behaving strange as of lately. He comes in late and he leaves at the first sign of daylight. If he were anybody else, M/n would suspect cheating or growing back into old habits, but that simply isn’t his Roy. M/n is pretty sure his husband will say something pretty soon. He always slips up. Can’t keep a secret from M/n to save his life.

M/n picks up the plates, balancing them on one hand, the other holding onto his crutch for dear life, and takes six instead of five. He stares for the longest time at the extra plate, then places it back. With the five plates in hand, he heads towards the enormous table (it always seemed bigger than the world when he was younger, just like Bruce), stumbling here and there on the carpet (it’s not that the carpet isn’t neatly placed every time, courtesy of Alfred, but handling everything with one hand is harder than you’d think), and sets it nicely. He has developed a sense of dexterity around the house, even with the setbacks. Alfred smiles proudly at him as the older man brings the pancakes from the kitchen.

“I’ll go get the honey.” Dick and Alfred used to look at M/n with concern when he first started eating honey with his pancakes. After all, Jason expressly used to talk about how it was ‘ultimately the only way he likes pancakes’.

“It’s alright, I got it.” Bruce appears from the kitchen as well, making M/n jump.

“Don’t just sneak up on people, dad!”

Bruce scratches the back of his head, “Sorry, can’t really turn the stealth mode off.” Tim snorts from his spot at the table. The brooding bat is trying to be better, M/n knows this. He can’t help, however, the lingering loneliness he feels whenever he looks at his father too long. It’s not something he can control, really. But dark thoughts must be kept at bay.

Roy makes his way into the room, hands wet from washing them. He walks to M/n and places a kiss on his husband’s cheek, using the diversion as a chance to wipe his wet hands on M/n’s hoodie (that, actually, belongs to Roy). M/n gasps in faux shock, but Roy only laughs and pecks him on the lips.

“Love you.” Roy says cheerily, loud enough for the whole room to hear. Bruce clears his throat, eyes narrowed, hand squeezing on the honey jar.

“Careful not to break that, Master Bruce.” Alfred speaks with an amused glint in his eyes. “How about we all get to the table? Master M/n has made us quite the nice breakfast.” Alfred ushers all of them in their respective places. All on one side of the big table. Bruce at the head, to his right Tim, to his left M/n. Roy is to the left of M/n, and Alfred to the right of Tim. M/n doesn’t escape the images flashing before his mind’s eye: a boy in front of him, not Tim, and he talks like he has the whole world to fill with words and not nearly enough time. Right after, M/n couldn’t bare to see the spot empty and when, two years later, Tim came and filled it himself, M/n couldn’t bear to see it filled by somebody else. M/n swallows hard, yet the lump is still there, pressure in his chest growing steadily. It happens from time to time, the feeling of the world falling around him, the feeling of helplessness from within in regards to the falling. Tears sting his eyes, yet he doesn’t let them fall. He tries to take a bite of his pancakes, oozed in honey, but they get stuck in his throat, choking him. He bends forward for the water glass in front of him. The cold liquid clears his throat and eases the constricted passage.

“Do you ever think of going back?”

Jason stares at the resting figure belonging to a life so far away. The sun is too bright and the flowers pale in comparison to the now man laying in the grass. The manor is as imposing as Jason remembers it — as if through a dream. It’s unreal. And so is the sight of his brother. He looks almost… peaceful. It makes Jason’s stomach churn and twist with he doesn’t know what. Maybe it’s pain or some itch he can’t scratch that goes as deep as his soul. Or maybe it’s longing? His hands shake (they always do, like what the fuck? can’t he just do something without thinking he’s going to fucking burst? get destroyed more than he already is? what even is his fucking life. it’s not even a question anymore. there is no life left. there is nothing. he is nothing. just a pile of bones covered in flesh that should’ve long rotten to dust) and he feels too little on the outside, too much on the inside. He wants to fucking scream! He wants to yell to RAGE AT THE WORLD AND AT THE NEANT and he wants to whisper about everything (about nothing at all) and he wants to have a vanishing act, finally catch up with his end. That is his brother! His brother? Ever since he was able to remember anything at all about his old life, M/n has been there, nagging and pocking and there always there (GOD IF YOU ARE REAL make his un-life make some sort of sense), being the brother he had never been seen as. Conversations that could have been. Conversations that never will be. Jason’s mind is a scrambled mess of scorched and festered brain. He can’t make up half the things he thinks. But, somehow, M/n shines through and it hurts.

He hasn’t seen his home in what feels like an eternity. He has been, in fact, putting it off. It doesn’t even feel like home, just a memory slowly melting into a void in his mind. It’s no lie that Jason half expect his brain to drip out of his ears in his sleep at some point.

“It’s useless, pathetic even, to think of something I can never have. So, yes. I do. I am, in fact, quite useless and pathetic.”

M/n doesn’t notice anything wrong at first, nothing out of common or eye catching. In fact, he would say he doesn’t feel as much of the pressure as he usually does. The world is so big and, really, today it feels like he might be in it too. And it doesn’t occur to him in this moment (perhaps it is that M/n stops it from occurring) that he hasn’t been in it for far too long for that to be true.

Tears don’t—tears don’t exist. They are not real as they fall down his cheeks and he moves his arm to try and stop them. He tries to keep the raptures of his soul from reaping further, he really tries. You have to believe him. M/n really tries to see the world as it is. He just can’t stop himself from seeing it as it should be.

Because he should be here too, seeing the flowers bloom and the sun shining just right, happy and God without those lifeless eyes he sees in his dreams every night (yet in some of his dreams they are so full of life it’s overwhelming; in those dreams Jason is back and he is laughing again and M/n apologizes for everything and things are good; reality often disappoints).

He doesn’t notice the figure creeping up on him, not with his trembling fingers rubbing at his eyes as he slowly and rustily sits up on the grass.

“Get it together, M/n. It’s been over for too long, there is no going back.” M/n sighs his tears away, eventually wiping them with his shirt.

It’s too quite in the garden, even with the occasional chirping of the birds or the buzzing of the busy bees, thus he hears the voice well enough to know it’s not the wind.

“What’s been over?”

M/n’ head snaps up so fast he gets a bit dizzy. The sun casts the man in front of his eyes in a gentle light, and he is so tall as he approaches that he casts M/n in a slight shadow. M/n stares at the man, confused. How did he get here?

“E-Excuse me…?” M/n squints up at the man and can barely distinguish some of his features. Dark hair with a white streak that softens his face. “You’re not supposed to be here.”

The man… smiles?

“Yeah… I’m not.” There is a certain nuance to his voice, a note of… sadness.

M/n doesn’t no why, but he feels warm in the presence of this person, and it’s not just the sun, “Do I know you?” M/n asks before he can stop himself.

M/n have the chance to say anything more as the man slowly crouches to his eye level, a cace illuminated in the sun, blue eyes with specs of green.

It’s immediate, instant and shattering— the recognition. It doesn’t take anything more than looking into those eyes, the eyes he sees in his sleep, the eyes that haunt the corners of his mind and hide in the shadow of every memory.

M/n makes a sharp intake of breath, involuntary and too sudden. He doesn’t what he is doing, his actions uncontrolled. He raises his hands to the cheeks of the man in front of him, the man who seems as stuck in place as M/n. M/n rubs softly at the skin, not sure if it belongs to the physical world.

“…Jason?” His voice barely reaches a whisper, quite to his own ears. He smiles through the stinging in his eyes, then shakes his head, “No… this is my dream… always my dream.”

There is conflict in his Jason’s eyes, something M/n can’t figure out, something he’ll never know.

It is a dream because reality is never this kind. He spends moments staring at his Jason’s features, taking them in, admiring the handsome face that could have been if the little boy from back then had been give a chance. When M/n speaks again, he’s already lived a thousand realities in his mind.

“Why do I wake up every time? It’s always better here, with you, than back there where everybody expects me to be real…” A lone tear drips down M/n’s cheek. “You are always quiet in my dreams. So strange…”

“What’s been over?” His Jason repeats, slightly startling him, and he looks at M/n with the same lack of resolve M/n feels. His Jason looks as close to the end as M/n feels. His Jason looks like a requiem to M/n’s final dream of life.

“I always try to tell you, but I never quite get the chance… How,” He looks deep into the apparition’s eyes, the windows to his Jason’s soul, “How much I regret not listening to you.”

His Jason tenses under his hands. His eyes look conflicted again, shadowed by feelings M/n can hardly recognize as a reflection of his own soul. The man brings his hands up to M/n’s own and takes them away from his cheeks, envelops them in the soft skin that feels too real.

“You just wanted me to listen to you, to hear you, right?” M/n tries to keep his smile on his face, but his muscles are heavy with grief and it’s too hard, “I couldn’t see beyond the thought that you were there to replace me because I was defected.” He slips one of his hands from his Jason’s. M/n place it at the back of the man’s neck, running his fingers through the fluffy hair there. His Jason latches his now free hand to M/n’s forearm, holding it tight.

“I miss you.”

Tears gather in Jason’s eyes and his lower lip trembles. He hasn’t cried in so long and, so sudden, he cries twice in a week. He tries to keep it in by biting his lower lip, but the sob, however muffled, still escapes the confines of his soul.

He wants to scream ‘I’m real! I’m here, stop crying, please! You are my brother, even though I thought you’ve hated me when I was alive!’ But he can’t bring himself to talk, he can’t bring himself to say anything as more quiet sobs escape his bitten lips.

“You feels so real…” M/n looks up at him with bigger eyes than the world, with an inner peace one would only have in the happiest of dreams, pain seeping in at the edges. Is this a dream? It might be a dream. Jason always thinks he’ll wake up to stare at the inside of a coffin, six feet under. “But you always feel real. You always feel so real, and I always wish I weren’t. Maybe if I weren’t, you’d still be here.” A sob finally escapes his brother’s lips as well, pain winning over. “Maybe, then, everything would be alright again… You know, for the longest time dad couldn’t even look me in the eyes. You meant the world to him, you still do.”

Jason lets go of his lower lip and lets the sobs free, not able to hold back anymore. He feels like a child again. He didn’t get to be a child, didn’t get to cry and to be held and he feels rage because he wants it, he wants it so bad.

Jason wants to have the warmth of his childhood, not just some half assed memories of good for nothing parents who left him and closer memories—a big brother who has the biggest smile, another brother who looks at him like his world is smaller just for Jason’s existence (not knowing that, to Jason, M/n was the one who made the world bigger), a butler who always knows what to say and a father who gives him something his real parents could never.

All the rage he felt, all the rage he kept inside himself for years after being brought back to a world that he no longer belonged in was being brought forth and he felt like a child. His dad never avenged him, his killer is still out there, but how can he hate the man that loved him so much Jason felt like the whole world was his? How can he possibly understand what that man thought and felt? His brother, whom Jason always thought hated him with everything in his soul, is here in front of him, talking about Jason like Jason is M/n’s entire world, like he wishes he was dead instead.

Why did Jason die? Why did Jason have to die?

The little boy in him, the little boy that cries and cries and hasn’t stopped crying, needs Jason to let go of his rage. But how can he do that? How could he ever do that?

Jason looks down towards M/n’s hand that is still in his grasp and squeezes it to his cheek as Jason leans forward to M/n’s chest. He falls to the ground and, even with his body being larger than his brother’s, he feels so small and on the verge breaking.

“Why did I die?” M/n frees his arms and wraps them around Jason’s shivering form. “Why did I have to die?” Jason closes his eyes and feels the warmth of his brother’s body. His body is rotting around him and the world doesn’t feel real, but the brother who had never wanted him feels the realest anyone ever has.

Jason realizes M/n is shaking as well. “I don’t know. I’m sorry it had to be you,” M/n squeezes Jason tighter, leaning into him as if wanting to keep him away from the world. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry it was you.”

Why is M/n talking like Jason isn’t real? This is real life, right? If this is a dream and Jason has to wake up again after this, he doesn’t think he’ll live. He won’t make it.

“I’m real, M/n, please believe me, I’m real” Jason rubs his face into M/n’s shirt, staining it even more with his tears, “I’m real, I’m real, please I’m real” Jason repeats it like a prayer, he is praying to the God that has abandoned him, praying because he wants it so badly to be real. Because he doesn’t feel real. Not anymore.

“I’m scared that soon there might be nothing left for you to miss.”

@tkiesai

Part 1:

#male reader #batfam #angst #jason todd #bruce wayne #roy harper #tim drake #alfred pennyworth #dick grayson #roy harper x reader #roy harper x male reader #batman #reader #dc universe #sad jason todd

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separatist-apologist · 2 months

Text

Traitors Never Win

Summary: When Feyre Archeron's father promises she'll marry notorious crime boss Rhysand Moreno, Feyre will do anything to get out of the arrangement…including framing him for murder.

Rhysand isn't about to let her go so easily.

Read on AO3

[Five Years Earlier]:

Feyre stood over the lifeless body of her father, her hands coated in sticky blood. Beside her, an aluminum bat lay bloodied on the floor, tossed like trash mere feet from where her father’s body lay. She had killed him in a fit of fury, her patience finally shredded beyond her control. Feyre, like her sisters, was merely a pawn in her fathers criminal enterprise.

The problem was, besides the murder, that she knew he’d loved her in his way. There was no escaping marriage for a woman like her, especially now that she was eighteen. And still, as she stared down at the cooling corpse at her feet, Feyre couldn’t bring herself to regret her actions.

She wasn’t going to marry Rhysand Moreno.

Feyre had never met him, of course—but she’d heard stories. Ruthless and cold, he headed up the rival crime family in the city and was the reason they were in this mess to begin with. Her father had been losing territory for a solid decade, his guys scooped up by cops and jailed. They ratted each other out, damaging the once solid Archeron Family until there was little left.

Nesta should have gone first, Feyre thought with just a touch of frustration. Then Elain. Her sisters were older than her and yet when Rhysand came, he’d came looking for her. He’d promised safety—a merger, of sorts, with Feyre at the center of it all.

So long as she was a dutiful wife and did as she was told, the rest of her family would be cared for. Feyre intended to go through with it…and then tonight had happened. Her father had called her in to discuss the upcoming wedding and what was expected of her and Feyre…just…snapped. Picked up the bat her father kept beside his desk and took a vicious swing. She could have stopped there, but a lifetime’s worth of rage poured out of her until her father was the beaten, bloodied pulp now laying before her. Feyre kept waiting for fear or regret to creep in, but all she really felt was numb.

And maybe the smallest sense of satisfaction.

It was all over now. Somehow, Feyre doubted Rhysand’s affection extended behind a jail cell. She’d gotten the freedom she’d been praying for every night, though not the way she’d imagined it. Feyre reached into her pocket for her cell phone, ears ringing loudly. She was going to call the police, confess to everything, and take responsibility for her actions.

A hand slapped her phone to the ground.

“Don’t you dare,” Nesta hissed. When had she come into the room? Both of her sisters were there, staring down at their father with a mixture of expressions. Elain stood in the doorway perhaps to not bloody the pretty white flats on her feet, her hand pressed against her lips. Nesta was beside Feyre, arms crossed over her chest, her own expression impassive.

“I need to tell the police—”

“You need to lie,” Elain interrupted, her voice cracking beneath the stress.

“This looks like a hit,” Nesta added, cocking her head to the side to really examine the scene.

“Don’t touch anything,” Elain warned, carefully stepping into the room. She was so out of place in her pretty yellow sundress and perfectly curled hair. Daddy’s princess—he would never have forced Elain to marry someone like Rhysand.

That knowledge had once made Feyre angry, but not anymore. Elain didn’t deserve worse than Feyre simply for being their father’s favorite. Nor did she deserve worse because she was the youngest and easiest to forget.

“We’ll say we came home and he was like this,” Nesta told Feyre, turning to face her fully. “We need the same story. We came home, he was already dead, and you panicked until I got here. You’re in shock. The police will go through his records—”

“Oh, god,” Elain said, carefully stepping through the room to make their way toward their fathers desk. Without getting a drop of blood on her clothes, Elain sat in their fathers high back, leather chair, and turned on his computer. They all knew how to delete things that no one should know—no one should see—before the cops found it all.

“Leave it!” Nesta barked, the family lawyer. “Don’t delete anything. They’ll find the marriage contract between Feyre and Rhysand.”

“Why would we want that?” Elain demanded, eyes too glassy to make her irritation sharp.

“Because Feyre is going to tell them the same thing. She’s going to tell them she was being trafficked into an unwanted marriage and she’s going to say she told father so. That he’d finally relented and agreed to call it off. That Rhysand came here and killed him for it.”

“You’re crazy,” Feyre whispered, her voice shaky. “You want to blame this on Rhysand?”

“Two birds, one stone,” Nesta replied crisply. “Men like Rhysand expect contracts to be honored no matter what. Killing father isn’t going to save Feyre…but sicking the feds after him might. If they decide to pin this on him, we can forget he ever existed.”

“You think he’ll let her go that easily?”

Nesta shrugged. “I guess we’ll find out. Now. Do we all understand the roles we’re about to play?”

Elain’s eyes were already watering. She’d be full on sobbing by the time the police arrived. Elain was so good at playing on people’s sympathies. Beautiful and sweet to the point that most people assumed her to be guileless, she’d be the first person the police met. Then Feyre, who would show them the body while Nesta watched, the careful matriarch of their family.

Everything was a blur in the aftermath. Feyre heard herself choking back a sob as she explained the scene to the 911 operator while Elain gave Feyre a thumbs up for encouragement. They didn’t need to speak to one another when the police arrived. Elain was sobbing while Nesta paced and Feyre just stood there, pale and blank. They could hear the jokes about their family on the lawn and endured the jabs about their father’s profession.

They were excluded given none of them worked for him. And still, Feyre saw even Elain clenching her fists when yet another remark went flying, earning the laughter of the cops tramping all over the scene. Everyone was so desperate to find some juicy detail that they didn’t seem to mind that they were contaminating the scene. And by the time the feds arrived and forced the local cops out, Feyre knew they wouldn’t be able to tell who had picked up that bat and swung. At least six different officers had touched it by then, and she’d heard a couple of them taking pictures with her fathers dead body.

She wished Rhysand had committed this crime, if only to see him come back and kill everyone making jokes, too. That was a dangerous thing to wish, though. It meant the man she was so close to escaping could just saunter back into her life and do her a favor…for a price, of course.

“Feyre?” A masculine voice pulled her from her thoughts. Looking up from her spot between her sisters on the front porch steps, Feyre found herself looking at a pair of federal agents wearing badges—Rosewood and Vanserra.

“She’s not talking without her lawyer present,” Nesta said before Feyre could get a word out, causing the man with the long, auburn hair pulled into a ponytail to smile, though he tried to smother it quickly. He looked like a man who’d seen at least some action if the trio of brutal scars running down one side of his face was any indication. Handsome, too, for a cop—beautiful, really, in the same way Elain was.

Maybe that was why her older sister was watching this man shyly. Or maybe it was merely another act Elain put on to make people think she was helpless so they’d want to protect her.

The other man had shorter, blonder hair and a pair of pine green eyes currently burning a hole through Feyre’s skull. Unlike his smiling partner, he seemed to be taking the entire thing seriously.

Extending his hand, he said, “Tamlin Rosewood. I’ve got some questions for you, Miss Archeron—”

“She’s not talking without her lawyer,” Nesta repeated.

“I suppose that's you?” Vanserra asked in a voice far deeper and richer than she’d expected.

“For now,” Nesta replied. Tamlin sighed, clearly frustrated.

“Look…you don’t have to say anything. Just listen. We’ve got a hit in there and a man we’ve never been able to get anything on.”

“She’s not helping you with your investigation,” Nesta spat.

Tamlin ignored her. “I want to put the three of you in witness protection,” he said, catching them all by surprise. “Just until we’ve got enough on Rhysand. And I want you to testify,” Tamlin added, turning to look at Feyre again. “Put that fucker behind bars for good.”

“Witness protection?” Elain asked, eyes bouncing from Vanserra to Tamlin.

“It’s not forever,” Vanserra told her, sucked in just like every other man on the planet. Feyre almost felt bad for him. Almost. If he liked Elain, he’d want her to be safe and that was enough for Feyre at the moment.

“I’ll do whatever you need me to,” Feyre said before Nesta could interrupt again. That was true. She wanted to live her life without the threat of Rhysand hanging over her head. They’d start over somewhere new, just until Rhysand was ready to go on trial for a crime he hadn’t committed. Feyre would lie and say the murder was over her refusal to get married and then she’d come home if she wanted.

Or maybe she’d stay wherever they sent her. She was young, just eighteen, and figured she had more than enough time. How long could it possibly take. A year? Two?

“We want to put the three of you in a hotel tonight,” Vanserra told them earnestly, careful to look at the three of them rather than just Elain. “We’ll have more details for you in the morning. Right now, I just need you to pack up your things. Whatever you want to take with you…there’s time.”

“We’ll be right outside,” Tamlin added, still looking wholly at Feyre. “Take your time.”

It wasn’t forever.

And so they stood up and went back inside.

[Present Day]:

“Good morning, Feyre,” Tamlin said with an easy smile, popping his head through the front door. Feyre, paint stained and still a little sunburned from the day before, grinned when she saw him.

“Hey Tam,” she replied, plunking a paintbrush into a coffee cup filled with murky brown water. “You’re back!”

“If I ask to come out too often, I get questioned,” Tamlin admitted, ducking inside her two bedroom townhouse sheepishly. “Plus every form needs to be filled out in triplicate…”

“What do you tell them?” she asked, rising from her chair at the dining table.

“That there are things I need to ask you that can’t be asked over the phone,” he replied, eyes flashing ever so slightly.

“That’s all you tell them?” she teased.

Tamlin reached her, running his fingers over her bare, freckled arm. “If I told them that being away from you for months at a time was driving me crazy, they’d assign another agent and move you somewhere I’d never see you again.”

“And we can’t have that, now can we?” she said, leaning up on her tiptoes for a kiss. Feyre couldn’t remember when this had started. Sometime between moving in and the intense loneliness that sometimes overtook her, Tamlin had become someone she genuinely cared about. Someone she thought she could love if they were ever in the same place longer than a weekend. She knew Tamlin’s time was limited, which was why the pair hastily shed their clothes, mouths frantic as he managed to get her upstairs to the bedroom. Tamlin was strong, hoisting her up in his arms and carrying her up the stairs and Feyre had always liked that about him.

He had become her savior, somehow. The man who’d showed up right when she needed him. Who’d protected her from a monster that was still hunting her—trying to enforce a contract she’d never agreed to and never signed. She and her sisters were scattered, though Feyre knew that Nesta was somewhere in the south and Elain had ended up in the midwest. Feyre was in Portland working as an art teacher at a local elementary school and teaching paint classes for date nights and bachelorette parties in her spare time.

In the years since her fathers murder, she’d graduated college and settled into her life. She had a cat Bryaxis and her neighbors all knew her by name. Not Feyre, of course—they called her Sarah. Which was, maybe, why being with Tamlin felt so good. He knew who she was, could call her by her real name and tell her about the life she missed. Tamlin gave her information about her sisters in between all the sex, and the updates on her fathers case that Feyre was always desperate to hear.

After all. She’d killed her father and the only people who knew were her, her sisters…and probably Rhysand at this point. He must have figured it out—the thought gnawed at her. Laying naked in bed beside Tamlin, Feyre asked, “How are things going?”

Tamlin shrugged, his expression tightening. “I can’t say much…but this is almost over. You’ll be able to leave soon if you want.”

“And if I don’t?” she questioned, kissing the tips of his fingers.

“I was thinking I could request a new post,” Tamlin said, rolling on his side to look at her. “If that was something you wanted.”

Was it? “We can talk about it,” Feyre said with a smile, delighted when he pulled the blankets up over their head for another round. They stayed in bed for the majority of the day, ordering food to the door once to eat it half dressed while they talked. Feyre talked and talked about everything, trying to fill the silence Tamlin so often left behind. He just never had much to say, the one thing that kept Feyre from truly jumping into whatever was happening with them.

She didn’t know if she wanted a lifetime of this. Maybe it was just being young and inexperienced talking…maybe relationships were a give and take. Tamlin had saved her and she cared about him, but it would have been nice sometimes to hear him talk about what he even liked about her. Feyre was always too afraid to ask—not since she’d once mentioned he never paid her compliments and he’d responded awkwardly by telling her that her hair looked clean.

It was possible that Tamlin’s reasons made sense to him, but were difficult to vocalize. She just wanted a little time to think about it—and she knew she’d get it that next morning.

“Another agent will be coming by soon,” Tamlin told her over breakfast, redressed in his suit. “Just to give you the rundown on what’s happening. I’m going to put in a request for vacation the week before we fly you back so I can help you get ready.”

“So this is definitely happening?” Feyre asked, suddenly too nervous to eat.

Tamlin nodded, raising his coffee mug to his swollen lips. “The last of our evidence was sent to a federal prosecutor. Now we just wait and see…I’m not going to lie to you. You’re our most solid piece of evidence and the whole case hinges on your testimony.”

Feyre offered him a pretty smile. “No pressure, then.”

“No pressure at all,” Tamlin replied, offering her a smile that didn’t quite meet his eyes.

“I won’t let you down, Tam,” she promised, reaching over the table to take his hand in hers. “We’re going to put him away.”

“I know he’s plotting,” Tamlin murmured, pulling his hand out of Feyre’s grip. “I can feel it. Whatever happens next, he’ll have a response for it. I just hope we’re ready.”

“We are,” Feyre assured him. She believed that, too—long after Tamlin had left, Feyre was bolstered by his visit. It wasn’t just the sex, but the knowledge he’d given her. How long did she have, really? Six months? A year, tops? Having spent her life watching the feds dog her fathers footsteps, she knew they’d be foaming at the mouth to take down another mobster. They’d want an airtight case to make punishment inescapable, which meant they’d be more cautious before laying down charges. Feyre could survive that. She could make it through one last Portland winter before finally returning home as herself. No more Sarah, no more hiding, no more wondering what her would-be husband was doing, planning, plotting.

He’d spend the rest of his life reflecting on the fact that he’d been outsmarted by the woman he’d once thought to trap. Feyre hoped it rotted him from the inside out, left him festering and hollow. All that money and power and for what?

He still couldn’t beat Feyre Archeron.

RHYS:

The hotel door opened quietly, flooding light from the hall into the tiny, smoke scented room. Rhys didn’t move from his chair, still shrouded in darkness. He listened as the lock clicked and the chain slid into place, trapping the pair of them inside. He held his breath and waited for the man to step into the main room and hit the switch.

“You.”

Rhys smiled, looking up at Tamlin Rosewood. He was mere seconds from knowing where Tamlin had come from and finally putting the nightmare he’d been living to rest. Slowly, Tamlin set his carry on to the green carpeted floor before raising his hands.

He’d seen the gun in Rhys’s, pointed directly at his center. Did he realize this was the end for him? That he’d never get to say goodbye to the people he loved? He must have—there was a grimness to his expression that Rhys would be thinking about for years to come.

“Me,” Rhys replied, rising slowly from the rickety chair in the corner of the room. “You seem surprised.”

“You’re being monitored,” Tamlin replied flatly. That was the thing about federal agents—they lacked imagination. Truthfully, they were too in love with the rules that it was embarrassingly easy to get around them. Rhysand was being followed all day, every day. His calls monitored, women wearing wires thrown in front of him hoping he’d divulge a few secrets for a little pussy.

Rhys was a faithful man. That was the first thing Tamlin never figured out about him. The man was about to learn, though.

“Am I?” Rhys questioned, amused by his words. “I had an easy time getting through the airport.”

“I’m not going to tell you where Feyre is,” Tamlin said, daring to speak her name. All Rhys’s amusement evaporated, replaced with burning hot rage.

“I don’t need you to tell me anything about her,” Rhys replied casually, holding Tamlin’s stare. “Just one thing about you.”

“What?”

“Did you fuck my wife?”

Tamlin blinked, uncertainty sliding over his features. Sweet little Feyre—his murderous little love. She’d been keeping so many secrets since she’d left and it wasn’t surprising she’d keep this one, too. He could forgive her for having Tamlin. He imagined she was lonely and scared. Maybe she thought she needed to keep the agent placated so he didn’t realize the truth everyone else could so plainly see. Or maybe she was desperate and Tamlin was available. Rhys didn’t like that last option, though he conceded it was possible she merely wanted someone around and would settle for the human equivalent of drywall.

“Excuse me?” Tamlin asked, lips parted with surprise.

“Did. You. Fuck. My. Wife?” Rhys enunciated each word slowly, forgetting that Tamlin wasn’t just terribly dull, but also impossibly stupid, too.

“She’s—she’s not your wife—” Tamlin spluttered, his words cut off but the ringing shot of a bullet. Rhys could have made it quick, ending Tamlin before he even knew what happened. That kind of peace was undeserved by the man hunting him…by the man who’d spent the weekend defiling Rhys’s wife. He shot Tamlin in the chest just so Tamlin would be forced to spend his final, terrifying moments with Rhys.

There would be no peace. Not in this life and not in the next. Rhys walked over to Tamlin, ignoring the gasps coming from purple lips. “She is my wife,” Rhys whispered, not caring that it wasn’t technically true. “And she killed her father that night. This has been a little game between us, but it’s over now.”

Tamlin’s last expression was one of horror before it flattened entirely. One last exhale that Rhys breathed in, just in case Tamlin’s soul thought he could escape. It was only then that Rhys stood and tucked his weapon into his holster beneath his jacket.

Rhys spent a minute rifling through Tamlin’s things. He quickly recorded Feyre’s phone number in his, giddy at the thought of having it at all. He found Tamlin’s last few locations on his phone, including a residential home in Portland, Oregon.

Sloppy, Rhys thought, though he already knew where she was. Killing Tamlin was merely a formality Rhys had always planned to carry out. He’d accelerated that plan when he’d learned Tamlin was fucking Feyre, which, he could admit, sent him into a jealous spiral. He’d imagined she was living much like he was—like a fucking monk.

That ended now, though.

What Rhys really needed was the badge and gun in Tamlin’s pocket. He had everything he needed beyond that. The one saving grace between himself and Feyre was the fact they’d never met one another. She’d been merely a picture on his screen when her father came begging for help. One of his daughters to get the debtors off his tail before they killed him. His crumbling empire, united through one woman.

He’d been offered the eldest first before the reluctant middle, but neither were of any interest to Rhys. And the third might not have either had it not been for her eyes. He could still remember the sight of her, smiling like a cat holding a mouse. A beautiful woman—the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen, if he was honest—with a secret. Something dark, something scary.

It had been a hunch back then, proven right when the feds came knocking on his door. Archeron was dead, bludgeoned with his own baseball bat. And pretty little Feyre Archeron swore it was him. Rhys knew then he’d been right about her, though she’d vanished into thin air by the time he managed to steal away to see her.

So began a five year chase. Feyre was smart, of course, but so was he. Tracking her down began by finding her sisters first. Nesta Archeron was holed up in some swampy Georgia town which made her the easier of the three to find. And Nesta, for all her brains, routinely emailed her younger sister Elain.

Elain was harder to pin down. Living in Chicago, she had a personal watchdog in the form of Agent Vanserra, who was protected by his Senator brother. Elain, though, had a burner phone the agent didn’t know about—and on that phone she texted Feyre. Finding that link had taken Rhys the better part of three years.

Tracking her to Portland took another year, though it shouldn’t have. That was the year the feds ramped up how hard they surveilled him, and every electronic he owned ended up being traced and tapped. Let them think he didn’t care about her. Let them never see Rhys search for her, hear him speak of her.

It was Tamlin who fucked it all up. He’d let it slip to Vanserra, unaware Rhys was just as capable of tapping a phone. I was with Feyre this weekend. Hearing those words filled Rhys with a rage he still struggled to contain. Feyre was supposed to be with him—and instead, she was spending time with his greatest enemy.

It was over now. As far as the FBI knew, Rhys was at home, pacing his study and raging about a deal gone wrong. And by the time anyone realized the truth of things, Feyre would be his wife in the ways that mattered to the federal government, and no longer able to lie under oath. Rhys pulled out his phone and sent one message to two contacts.

Lock it down.

And then he was off.

Rhys stepped onto a weed freckled lawn a little after nine in the morning. An overgrown bush had taken over the paved path up the sidewalk, but Rhys didn’t mind getting his shoes a little muddy. Among the row of townhouses, this one had a bright purple door and a half dead fern on the little porch.

Charming.

He knocked, eyes obscured behind a pair of mirrored shades. Behind the door, Rhys heard the sound of thudding feet on stairs before the door opened and there she was. Her chestnut hair was pulled into a long braid draped over an exposed, freckled shoulder. She had a smudge of red paint on her cheek and a splatter of freckles along the bridge of her nose.

And those mischievous, dark blue eyes.

“Sarah?” he asked, certain he’d blow his cover if he called her Feyre. Rhys flashed the badge at her, assuming she wasn’t going to take it from him and scrutinize.

She rolled her eyes. “What can I do for you…?”

He wasn’t going to lie about his name. “Rhys,” he replied with a lopsided grin. “They should have told you about me.”

“Yeah, Tamlin did. Come inside, then, before the neighbors start wondering why there’s a cop on my doorstep.”

He did look like a cop, but that was the point. He wanted her to see him as professional before she saw him as himself.

“Unfortunate name,” she called over her shoulder as Rhys stepped inside. Unfortunate—

“Oh,” he said with a weak laugh. “Yeah. My mom was Welsh, though, so I come by the name naturally. Belonged to my grandpa.” Why was he telling her this? Stop talking.

“Oh yeah? Better than me—my mom found it in some fairytale she’d read as a child. Feyre,” she muttered as she led him into the main artery of her home.

“It’s a beautiful name,” Rhys heard himself saying. She glanced up at him, brow furrowed and slowly—so, so slowly—Rhys slid his sunglasses over her eyes to rest atop his head. This was the moment. Would he hold her hostage, or would she accept this lie?

There was no recognition on her face. She didn’t know. Rhys had always wondered how much her father told her—how much she’d known about him before the murder. And after, he could never be sure if someone had shown her pictures. They hadn’t. Feyre had only her imagination to go on.

Good.

“Anyway, are you staying here?”

Rhys blinked, his plans shifting once again. “Yes. Until the indictment,” he lied, because how would she know, anyway? Her eyes brightened.

“They charged him?”

Rhys smiled. “It’s almost over. Just three months and I’ll be flying you back home and you’ll be free of all this.”

Her smile seemed to split her face. “Oh my god. I can see my sisters again.”

Potentially—if Cassian and Azriel managed to keep them unaware and out of the way he supposed. Again, they could work this all out later.

“Well,” Feyre said, taking a deep breath of air. “Let me show you to your room, then.”

Rhys smiled back. “Lead the way.”

#feysand #feyre archeron #rhysand #feyre x rhysand

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jflemings · 3 days

Text

— let the light in

pairing: jessie fleming x reader part 2

synopsis: for jessie’s benefit, you end your relationship

warnings: depression, bed rotting, suicidal ideation, self depreciation, isolation, toxic!reader if you squint

a/n: take the warnings seriously and look after yourselves pls <3

as much as you knew you needed jessie, there was no way you were going to allow yourself to hold onto her so tightly. it was a repeated and ongoing cycle that you had been trapped in for years now and it seemed to only be getting worse.

“we can’t be together anymore” you murmur into your half empty cup “i can’t do it”

jessie sits across from you with her mouth agape. “if i’ve done something wrong i can fix it” she says, her voice cracking slightly as she pleads “this can be fixed, let. me. fix. it.”

a heaviness settles behind your eyes as you shake your head “there’s nothing to fix. i’m sorry”

it was as easy as walking out the door and leaving her sitting in her kitchen alone. the bag of your things had weighed your shoulder down as you dragged your feet all the way to your car, not once ever looking back in fear of turning around.

it left you here, laying in bed with the curtains drawn and your phone on do not disturb as you stare blankly at the wall. you had become a shell of the person you think you once were, someone who had hobbies and dreams, someone who wanted to build a life worth living. instead you take sick leave so that you don’t have to get out of bed, you let the dishes pile up in the sink when you do decide to eat and you clear a pathway out of your shit on the floor so you can get to your ensuite bathroom.

the numbness that had overtaken you didn’t allow you to cry, no matter how much you think you wanted too. you were drained. there was nothing left for you to give yourself. it was sick, really, the way your brain could play tricks on you and make you believe you weren’t deserving of the life that you have been given. why would you be? there was absolutely nothing to show for it. all you had was a bed with dirty sheets and a brain that told you death was better than anything else you have ever experienced.

your therapist had told you once that because you hadn’t acted on it, it was merely a way for you to cope without committing. a way to wallow, to escape, from a life that you weren’t ever sure you wanted in the first place. she said that people who have depression but don’t kill themselves will fantasise about it but not pick a date or a means to an end.

only, at one point, you had picked a date. you had closed your eyes and twirled your finger in the air before landing on a wednesday two weeks away. you’d marked it with a red dot and then began clearing out things you didn’t want, giving your belongings to charity or throwing them away before neatly organising what you had left. you thought that your family could decide what to do with them. you didn’t care, you were gonna be dead after all.

it was when your coffee machine had finally broken on you that morning did jessie come swinging into your life. you decided to go to a local coffee shop you liked when she pushed the door open too hard and smacked you square in the face. she had gone bright red and apologised profusely, telling you that the door had slipped out of her grip and that she didn’t even see you. you, with a hand pressed firmly to your forehead, had told her that it was okay, that it was just an accident.

maybe it was her smile, or the way her eyes looked when you actually made eye contact, but something about the canadian had stopped you dead in your tracks. she asked if you wanted to sit with her with the promise of not hitting you in the face again, to which you agreed with a laugh. you began telling eachother about yourselves, from where and how you grew up to hobbies and small quirks you had. when the topic of careers had come around you sheepishly told her that you didn’t watch football beyond the odd match when it was already on tv, and she had beamed at you and cheekily said that she’ll make a blue out of you in no time.

you didn’t go through with it, obviously, and jessie still doesn’t know that she quite literally saved your life that day. your relationship with jessie quickly blossomed and bloomed, soon becoming the most grounding thing in your life. jessie showed you that she loved you long before she told you and never once did she make you feel like you weren’t loved, there were just times where you knew you were hard to love.

like in the beginning when you’d practically ghosted her for three days and then came back with a half assed explanation and a bouquet of flowers; or when you’d completely shut her out and pretend like nothing was wrong when she could see the bags under your eyes and the mess around your apartment. you knew that her friends had told her that it wasn’t a good relationship to be in, that maybe you weren’t who she thought you were. she had brushed them off and ran back to you time and time again.

looking back on it you think that maybe it’s because she knew how bad it was getting, like she caught onto your badly kept secret before you even knew you really had one. when you had initially told her about your depression you insisted that you were doing a lot better and that even though you would have times of relapse, it was nothing compared to how it had been in the past.

the lie had kept up until there were things you were too ashamed to explain to her. like why she couldn’t come over or why you looked like you hadn’t had a good night’s sleep in a few weeks. you didn’t know how to tell the footballer that your mental health had sipped out of your control, that you needed help and didn’t know how to ask for it. you didn’t know how to look your own girlfriend in the eye and tell her that you needed her.

that was when you knew it had to end.

when jessie came around to collect her things you just left them in a box outside your front door. you heard her knock but didn’t move from your position as she left with the last pieces of her you had.

she wasn’t stupid, despite the fact that for most of your relationship you clearly thought she was. she noticed the change in your behaviour and how you didn’t go out with friends as much or eat enough. she noticed the late night and even later mornings, the pile of dirty laundry you’d been putting off and the pills you tried to hide.

jessie wasn’t stupid.

when she pleaded to you to fix it, she meant fix you. she wanted you to take the weight off your shoulders and put it on hers because hers are stronger than yours anyway, they can hold more. she wanted you to let her help with the laundry, and to help clean your place. she wanted you to let her wash your hair and make you a good home cooked meal. jessie wanted nothing more than for you to be vulnerable with her, to admit that you needed her just this once.

as much as you adored her, absolutely worshiped the ground she walked on, you weren’t going to do that for her. jessie has a decorated career, one to be proud of, and the last thing she needed was to worry about whether or not you were going to get out of bed in the morning. she didn’t need the extra weight from your baggage dragging her down.

she deserved better, someone who could get up early enough to go for coffee after her morning run, someone who could actually make dinner with her and eat it, someone who didn’t have to create a fucking pathway from their bed to their bathroom because they haven’t cleaned their room in god knows how long. jessie deserved someone worth loving and in your mind, that someone just wasn’t you.

#pegs writes #pegs woso #jessie fleming #jessie fleming x reader #jflem #jessie fleming imagine #jessie fleming fic #jessie fleming angst #jessie fleming blurb #woso #woso x reader #woso imagine #woso angst #woso blurb

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gxdsfavgal · 1 year

Text

I don’t really like you

Pairing: Xavier Thorpe x Fem!Agro!reader

Warning: angst, mentions of death, arguments, teasing, making out, early start of smut, almost getting caught, there will be a part 2 (smut), very scrambled writing, not edited

A/N: reader has agrokinesis which is the power to control/manipulate plants/earth stuff lol… also pls comment if you want to be tagged in part 2

Update: part 2 here!

Wednesday is finally enrolled at Nevermore after years of trying to convince her. I’ve known her since we were little, we had our own little trio whenever our parents would have dinners. It was always Wednesday, Xavier, and I, and occasionally Pugsley.

Our parents all met at Nevermore, all of them part of the Nightshades. Of course, we had to follow in their footsteps.

The news spread fast around campus, talking about what she did at her other schools. I saw her with Enid while having a tour of the school.

“Wednesday!” I hollered from the door I was leaning against.

She quickly turned around and with a confused and pale face, her eyes widened.

I walked up to her with open arms, I knew she wouldn’t give into the hug but it was worth a try.

“Y/n.” she sent a quickly smirk as we nodded to each other.

“You two know each other?” Enid cocked her head.

“Since diapers.” Wednesday spoke with her monotone voice as the three of us walked around the courtyard.

“Yeah Wednesday, Xavier, and I.” I muttered out.

“Wait. You mean to tell me that you and Xavier used to be friends?” Enid threw her hands in the air as she spoke loud.

“Enid, shut up.” I was quick to cover her mouth with my hand. I looked around the courtyard to see if anyone heard, and of course Xavier was looking right as us.

“You aren’t friends with Xavier anymore?” Wednesday asked.

“They’re always argu-”3

“Enid. I don't want to talk about it. It was nice seeing you Wednesday.” I sent her and Enid a small smile before walking away.

It’s been a few days since Wednesday arrived, she’s always getting in trouble. Though, last night she decided to do her own little tour of the school.

“What did you tell Wednesday?” Xavier stopped me while I was on my way to my dorm.

“That she can sneak into the kitchen pantry and steal snacks?” I questioned, trying to swerve away from him to get to my room.

He followed behind me heading up to the girls corridors.

“What? No. You told her about what happened that night.” his big eyes showed that he wasn’t messing around.

“I literally didn’t tell her anything, I erased that night from my mind.” I pointed to my temple. “Probably should’ve asked one of the sirens to make me forget.”

I shoved past him and continued walking down the long hallway to my room, his heavy steps close behind mine.

Once I opened my door, I tried to close it as fast as possible but he slid through.

“God can you leave me alone?” I groaned loudly, throwing my book bag onto my bed.

“How does she know about the Nightshade library and what happened that night?” he asked towering over me.

“Xavier, I don’t fucking know how she knows!” I threw my hands in the air in annoyance. “Why do you care about her knowing?”

“Fuck. I don’t care about her knowing, it’s about the elder Nightshades knowing! About our families knowing!” he was close to be now, his neck turning red from his anger.

“You did this to yourself. I told all of you he didn’t seem like himself, you knew since you were his roommate. I told you guys not to kick him out, plus you let them embarrass me. I haven’t even told my family that i’m not a Nightshade anymore.”

“You got yourself kicked out, you thought you could help Rowan with your plants. He almost killed that kid.” he waved his hand around signaling all my plants.

“I saved that normie with my plants, don’t forget that. If it wasn’t for me, we’d all be wanted by the normies. You’re part of the reason he’s dead. And don’t even deny it, you know that wasn’t him after the fair.” that shut him up quick, he knows i’m right.

He shook his head and made his way to my door. “Wednesday declined the offer.”

“Good. We don’t need anymore egotistic skinny dippers here.”

Then he was gone. My heart was racing. I haven’t talked to Xavier in a few months, and I definitely didn’t expect the first time to be an argument.

I heard a knock at my window, it possibly could just be the old welding creaking. It’s midnight, who would be outside my window at midnight?

knock knock.

I quickly and quietly wrapped myself in my blanket and nervously walked towards the window. I opened it and looked around to see who was there, nobody.

I was about to close my window until I saw a blur in my peripheral vision. It was Thing, giving some sassy attitude because I couldn't see him.

“What?” I whispered to him, rubbing my tired eyes.

He started signing to me, telling me things with his fingers.

“Slow down. Wednesday? What? She needs me to- stop.” I quietly barked at him.

“Why does she need me to go into the Nightshade library if she has total access?”

He began to sign again, having a slight attitude with the way he moved.

“Fine. But make sure to tell her to stay out of trouble if she’s one strike away from getting expelled, and that she owes me.”

He understood and nodded then made his way out of the window.

I quickly put on my hoodie and grabbed my phone before sneaking out of my dorm. The corridors were dim and quiet as I crept down to the Poe statue.

I stood in front of the old statue and held my hand up. "snap twice." I breathed out.

My thumb and middle finger rubbed against each other quickly, letting out those two snaps. The statue grinding against the concrete floor, opening and revealing the stairs to the secret library.

I walked down the cobwebbed filled stairs, shivering from the cold of the lower level.

I reached the library, walking over to see the picture of my parents hanging up on the wall. The Addams and Thorpe family next to my parents frame.

“What are you doing here?”

My hand shot up and clenched into a fist to conjure a strong vine to grab the owner of the voice. I tightened my fist to make sure the vines were tight and strong.

I turned around and saw my vines holding down the hands of Xavier. I loudly sighed and rolled my eyes knowing that he’s in my way again.

“Let me go.” he struggled against the vines. His white shirt loose on him as his sweatpants were tied.

“Why would you creep up on me?” I jerked my head forward, my hand unclenching to release him.

“Why are you here?” he rubbed at his wrists.

I ignored him and moved towards the large shelf of books. My fingers dragged along the dusty spines of the book, trying to find the book.

“You shouldn’t be here.” he followed behind me with every step I took, so close that I can feel his breath on my hair.

“I can be here if I want to.” I turned to face him but he bumped into my chest from the quick halt. “But don’t worry, I’ll be out of your hair soon.”

I have a sarcastic smile and turned back to looking for the book that Wednesday needed.

“But to answer your question, I’m here for Wednesday.” I crouched down to the books on the lower shelf.

“Why couldn’t she come here herself?” he asked, leaning against the bookshelf as he looked down at me.

“Why are you here?” I looked up at him. Looking up at him from this angle brought thoughts in my mind that I didn’t need.

“Im actually a Nightshade, you on the other hand aren’t.” his arms crossed over his chest.

I quickly stood up to face him, he towered over me. I looked up at him, his nose flaring a tad as we had a stare off while we were merely an inch apart from each other.

He was the first one to look away, rolling his eyes and turning his head. I turned around and started looking for the book again.

“Are you going to help me look or just keep breathing down my back?” I asked him with a playful tone.

He put his arms up in surrender, walking away to the desk where his things were set up. He sat on the chair and continued his sketch.

“Fucking finally!” I sighed out as I grabbed the needed book from the shelf and held it against my chest.

I walked over to Xavier, standing behind him as I watched his fingers smudge the led of the pencil. I couldn’t really tell what he was drawing, it was unfinished and his hand was covering most of it.

“Are you going to leave or just keep breathing down my back?” he continued drawing, not even turning to look at me.

“Hmm I don't know. Maybe I like breathing down your neck, it seems like it gets you annoyed.” I had a small grin on my face. We used to have this type of playful banter before that traumatic night, I sort of miss it.

He scoffed and I just knew he rolled his eyes because he was annoyed of me.

I took another look at his drawing, this time I’m able to see the almost finished product. It looked so familiar, he added so much detail that I felt like I knew what it was.

“What is it?” I pointed to his paper.

He closed his sketchbook harshly and dropping his pencil onto the table. He leaned on his elbows on the table, just sitting there in silence probably thinking of ways to kill me because I was annoying him.

I began to turn on my heel and silently walk towards the stairs that I came down from earlier.

“Why do you think that wasn’t Rowan?” he blurted out. His body in the chair is turned to me as I turned back on my heel to face him.

“Why don’t you believe Wednesday?” I questioned against him.

“I asked a question first.” he tilted his head, motioning for my to tell him my thoughts.

I walked closer to him, setting down the book onto the table as I leaned my hip on the edge. I made sure to keep a distance from him.

“I stopped him on his way to the car and I gave him a bundle of lavender. He said that I always knew it was his favorite. Everyone knows he’s deathly allergic to lavender.” I crossed my arms over my chest with a huff. “Now, why don’t you believe Wednesday?”

Xavier rubbed a hand over his face. “Isn’t it weird that on her first couple of days she was almost killed by Rowan, then witnessed Rowans ‘murder’ and was supposedly saved by the monster?”

I shrugged my shoulders, basically telling him in makes sense.

“It doesn't line up.”

I rolled my eyes at him which I received a scrunched up face from him. “I think you’re in denial of his death. You’re making up excuses. Just admit that I’m right.”

He scoffed louder this time, his fingers combing back his hair. The veins in his arm were prominent and his hands were always so nice and pampered.

He went to stand up and slowly reached to grab his sketch book, but I was quick enough to get ahold of it before him.

“Give it.” his voice had a hint of playfulness behind it, but his face didn't show any sign of a smile or smirk.

“C’mon, just admit it.. and apologize to me.” I conjured a vine to hold his book against the wall with thick trailings of the plant tight around it.

“Are you serious? It’s late” he rubbed at his eyes as he held out his hand waiting for me to give him his book back.

“You just have to do two things, it’s not hard.” I had a small cocky smile on my face.

“Fine.” he rolled his eyes.

I was nice enough to loosen my vines from his book that was up against the wall. My vines bringing his book to my hands.

I cocked my eyebrow telling him to carry on and say what is needed to be said.

“Rowan is dead, and that wasn’t the real Rowan.” one of his hands stayed in a fist at his side, while the other still was holding out waiting for his book to be laid flat on his palm.

I hummed as I began to flip through his sketches.

“Dude!” he jumped out to me but I was quick to pull back, still looking through the hundreds of sketches.

“Wow, you’re really into this whole monster thing huh?” I had a sarcastic shocked face.

I moved my body over to the desk where he sat earlier, leaning my thighs against it. My eyes scanned through the pages, looking at how intricate the detailing was.

“Stop.” I jumped at me again, my body leaning back onto the table as his chest was close to mine. I clicked my tongue at his failed attempt. “Just give it.” he breathed out as he was still an inch away.

My eyes drifted to his eyes. Fuck. Those green eyes tortured me, and those lips. I really shouldn’t be feeling this type of way.

“I’ll give it if you answer a question.” I sent him a smirk.

One side of his lips tilted up, but he tried to hide it by dragging hand down his face.

“Fine.” he huffed out.

“Have you ever drawn me?” I tilted my head to the side as I watched him think through his answer.

I can tell by the way his mouth opens and closes that he doesn't know if he should say. I already know the answer.

“Tick tock.” I bopped my head side to side.

“Yes.” he muttered out.

A smile formed on my face as his cheeks began to blush.

“Sorry, I couldn’t hear you. Can you say that again?”

“Yes! Fuck, I’ve drawn you.” his hands frustratingly combed his hair back.

I flipped through his sketch book to find the page of a drawing of me. My eyes were drawn to be seductive, dark, and my lips more plump. On the other page is a drawing of me laying in bed but a chain dangling over my face.

I looked up from the page to see the same dangling chain. I look further up and see Xaviers face red from embarrassment.

“Look, you weren’t-” I nodded and closed the book, pushing it against his stomach telling him to grab it.

His hand grabbed it the book but I didn't let go of the book, I pulled on the book and brought him close to me again. My brought my lips to his, dropping the book onto the table.

He pulled back from the kiss. “I thought you were weirded out.” He looked at me with wide confused eyes.

I dragged my hands up to the nape of his neck, my fingers lightly scratching his scalp.

“I like weird things.” I shrugged my shoulders and pulled him back down into a kiss.

His hands moved to my hips, pulling him into me and his fingers squeezing tightly. My hands gripping his hair as we breathed heavy and our tongues clashing.

Both of us moaning into each others mouth as he pulled himself between my legs, the many layers of clothing between us.

We suddenly heard the heavy scratch of the statue moving and footsteps tapping against the stone. Xavier and I quickly separated from each other and stood apart as we waited to see who it was.

I quickly fixed my hair and clothes, and he did the same.

“Well hello Mister Thorpe and Miss l/n.”

“Miss Weems.” we said in sync as we nodded to her.

“It is pretty late, so I suggest that the two of you get some rest.” the tall blonde stood with her arms ushering to the entrance as she stood in a silk grey robe and matching pajama pants.

“Will do Miss.” I sent her a smile as I grabbed the book that Wednesday needed as Xavier grabbed his sketchbook and pencils.

The two of us walked up the stairs with Weems following closely behind.

“Goodnight you two.” Weems said quietly once we reached the hallway, she then made her way down the opposite way of our corridors.

“I still hate you.” I muttered to Xavier then turned my heel to the girls corridors.

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