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tinycozycomfort · 7 months

Text

moon, a hole of light

pairing: qz!joel miller x f!reader

day one of @pascalisbaby and i's joeltober: dacryphilia -> read her day one here

summary: It makes you feel like a toy, like some misused stuffed animal with loose seams and fur that’s been rubbed to the weft. Your use brings him comfort, his comfort brings you hurt.

warnings/tags: dacryphilia, unprotected piv, substance abuse (joel), age gap (joel is 46 [~10 yrs post outbreak]), reader is not), yearning, dom/sub dynamics, smidge of underwear play, pet names (honey, sweetheart, etc), joel is mean

word count: 2.4k

rating: explicit! 18+ only, mdni

a/n: i'm trying so hard to shorten things so forgive me as i navigate this learning curve.

main masterlist

A lot of life is weeping.

In joy. In sorrow. In fury so poignant it makes you wilt. Your body furls in the collapse—u-shaped shoulders that guard your insides, the lock of hard elbows into thigh.

It stings to feel so little, so vulnerable—to let anyone see how ugly emotion’s face can be—yet you let it happen, knowing that this is the only thing that separates you from the rest of them; they’ve spilled out all they had, hollow in the center after nearly a decade of ‘justified action’.

So you cry, and you sob, and you don’t care for their uncomfortable shifting and curled lips. Tess gives her best in the way of comfort, not letting a scoff slip as much when she can help it. Tommy will at least leave the room.

But Joel—Joel will watch. Joel will encourage.

He’s taken the liberty of cycling himself through every shape your hurt takes, the tears pouring over for all of his near-misses and his inability to care for you how he’s meant to. You see the way he grins to find that you cry when you’re happy to see him the same way you do when he insists he should leave.

Part of you thinks he likes it—pushing you to react and then having something to show for it. You think he especially likes when it causes you pain. You cry longer in those moments, working though fits of frustration while he kneels at your feet and watches your face sprout tears like light rain.

He pets you through it—even when he’d been the one to kick you down in the first place—to tell you you were good for sticking around, for being brave enough to have faith in him.

He enjoys having something to come back to, and wounding you is no obstacle in the pursuit of feeling needed.

It makes you feel like a toy, like some mis-used stuffed animal with loose seams and fur that’s been rubbed to the weft. Your use brings him comfort, his comfort brings you hurt.

You know he’s gearing up for another slip-away with the swift shift to kindness; Friday night he caresses you, soothes the ache of something not yet felt, to ease his exit. All pretty words and the affection he so desperately wants to hide, whispered promises of how much better he can be, how he can give you everything you deserve.

Come Saturday morning, you’re discarded.

He’s gone again on another outing, one he persuaded Tommy into joining—if the silence is any indication—even though he needs nothing; that in itself makes you even more sure it has everything to do with wanting. The burn, the desire, is something you see so clearly in the glaze he gets on later nights, the crinkle of soft plastic that trickles out through the open bathroom door. He swears it’s nothing—even to Tess, when she’s around—that he’s not on anything. He throws any excuse he can muster; it’s the wounds and the healing and the aging that make him stumble even in the lit apartment.

Everyone knows what’s actually going on, why the trips outside the QZ are becoming more frequent. It doesn’t get lost on you all the times Tommy complains of Joel disappearing to meet more than one mysterious, unarranged contact who asked for privacy—who wanted Joel alone.

Whatever it is he’s buying keeps him numb, so Tommy lets it slide, and Tess is apathetic towards Joel for reasons you aren’t too willing to know about. You’ve only tagged along so recently, so maybe they pity you, or they feel better about throwing Joel onto someone else—to ruin another thing if only to feel better about having been ruined.

You cry through the weekend in long streams, worried for him, until the hot tears pool and curl the cotton of your t-shirt—forever wet. You stay laid out on the bumpy sofa cushions for hours before your back feels just as knotted and you have to relocate to the bed, only rising again to shower and half-eat and sulk, until you’re too weak to keep track of the seconds.

When he swings in on Monday night, boots knocking as he raises them up on the rack by the door, you’re at the tail-end of another bout, cheeks damp and chest catching where it’s pinned by your shirt against the bed.

Joel walks into the room like he’s done nothing wrong. He walks in alone.

“Where’s Tommy?” you ask, but he ignores you.

Instead, he comes to you with tattered hands, fresh bruises and torn skin, and tugs you up by the creases under your shoulders so you’re seated, kneeling by the bed to level himself with the picture he’s come to love.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he coos, words slow, “What are all those tears for? Me?”

You huff out a few shaky breaths to steady yourself, “Where’s Tommy?”

He sighs, long and hard and uneven, “He left. Why the fuck does it matter?”

He peers up so you’re forced to face him and you can see it now, the film of wet that clouds his eyes, sticky lashes and deep creases of exhaustion purpling the skin where they brush.

“Why did he leave? Because you’re high? It’s too late for him to be out there.”

You already know he didn’t hear anything past the accusation, brought to a boil at the mention of another one of his failures. He gathers up the soft flesh of your cheek in his hand, the blunt curve of his nails digging in to find teeth through the skin. He grips tight to let you know of his anger—that he could easily wring the life out of you like water.

“You’re getting real brave for someone who sits and waits for me like a dog.”

Fire prickles in the tips of your fingers, stretches across the top of your chest in humiliation. You can hear the weight of his words even through his gentle slur, like he means it, twisting away as best you can to speak, “Is that really what you think this is?”

He’s laughing before you even get it all out, the corner of his lips perked up on one side, “No one forced you to, and I certainly don’t remember asking.”

You shove at him then, with force, your hands bending back enough to pinch when he doesn’t budge. He leans into you instead, a challenge.

There’s barely time to choose before he does for you, gathering up your wrists in one hand, the one around your jaw tightening.

So close now, you get a better look at him—his hair stuck to his forehead, cheeks flushed red but with paler lips. His eyes are round, pupils cartoonish and wide. He’s still so pretty, even when dulled by the sheen of his high.

He heaves onto you, shy of livid, and you start to feel like you’re suffocating under his stifling heat, billowing out from where he’s damp with sweat under his denim shirt. The pills work fast, and for longer than they should, so you can tell he’d spent the peak of his high elsewhere, but he’s on a jagged edge of almost coherent.

You slide your thighs together at the whole of him, so strong and honest and invested in you—negative or not—something you usually find him being incapable of. He sees it.

“Oh, but you do it because you like it, don’t you? Couldn’t wait ‘til I came back. Little thing just needs some attention, hm?”

“Joel, I’m serious. Are you high right now? Where’s your brother?”

Joel wedges a thigh up under the crease of your knee, uses the grip he has on your body as leverage to move you further up the bed, climbing up with you pushing himself into the cradle of your body on the way.

“Please. You don’t give a fuck about Tommy,” he snaps, releasing and depositing you so he can make work of your shorts and the buckle holding himself back, “He’s not going to bother us, if that’s what you’re asking.”

You whine as he releases himself, can’t help how you grow wet between your legs, heart throbbing in your throat. He’s not wrong, as mean as he is how he puts it—-you’d die for him if it meant he’d look at you. If you could have him to yourself.

His cock swings free as he shoves his jeans down only enough to be out of the way, not bothering to remove your thin strip of underwear once your bottoms are tugged off. He’s hard for you, another flattery that sends shivers down your spine, the feeling of arousal flashing along your whole body—fingers folding and ankle rolling. You’re excited for him, and this display of joy doesn’t please him as much.

“I didn’t say it was a good thing. You’re pathetic,” he sucks his teeth, hooking a finger in the cotton across your seam, peeling it away from where it's slicked down, knuckle dipping in the place you’re pooling, “But it’s cute. You’re still young enough to have hope.”

He strings the gusset up and away, presses his length against your cunt before replacing it, trapping himself.

“It’s okay that you love me, sweetheart. Don’t be embarrassed. Hang onto that. It might work out for you some day.”

“But not with you,” you whisper, half an offense and half an admission of awareness—he doesn’t love you, hasn’t and can’t and won’t, but you’re willing to take what you can get.

“Cry about it.”

Joel grinds his cock against the wet slip of your cunt in short, tight motions to better catch against you, soaking himself. He presses three fingers against the base of it like a vacuum, holding himself between the two of you, the scalloped edge of your underwear twisting when they roll over his skin. The hard of him on your clit makes you gasp, and his mouth hangs open in a soundless laugh.

And you are crying, sooner than you thought, barely registering it until you feel it falling into the cup of your collarbone, a steady stream that barely burns brighter than the flare in your core.

“You really should be more careful with that little heart of yours. Gonna hurt yourself.” He slides his hand further up his cock to the tip, releasing the pressure and guiding himself to your center. Joel slides himself in to the hilt, leaning down on one forearm to hold himself up.

With his unoccupied hand, he brushes the flesh of your cheek, following its path with kisses—the warning is a genuine one, followed by no punchline or remark, the first time tonight where he’s actually tried to resonate with the predicament he’s put you both in. Earnest.

The give and take of him, flowing freely between unrelenting harshness and the soft comfort of his reassurance should be nauseating, but it shines a beam of light behind your eyes when you close them, white-hot and blinding. You’re sobbing enough to wonder how you haven’t stopped; you can feel your own wetness when he rubs down your chest with his mouth, gathered up from his mapping of your face.

Joel’s knee digs into your side as he hikes you up on his hip, eliminating even the air between your bodies, sweat-soaked and glued together. He’s pushing himself into a place you’ve often found unconsidered, that spongy spot at the back that marks the beginning of your womb. The very center of you, he’s reached, and you start to move in an act of self-preservation, unsure whether you want him to continue forward or exit. You’re mumbling something about Joel, yes-too much-don’t stop-wait-please don’t stop and when he leans back he’s beaming at you, the point of his canines shining in the dim light of the room.

He looks dangerous, like the man you’ve seen hobbling and flighty and inebriated—only ever close to anger—was just the very surface. This is the man that hunted men—that sought conquest and destroyed lives. He’s done the same to you, you realize, and now your being is nestled within the palm of his hand, pliable and willing and fully at his disposal.

You keen for him, thin and high in the channel of your throat, and he pinches your face, sealing his mouth over yours to swallow it. He’s breathing hard into you, the movement of his hips growing shaky, rhythm breaking down a half-step so that you're just swaying against the bed under his weight in little jolts.

“Joel, please. I want to make you come.”

“Keep crying for me just like that and I will. Can you do that?”

You’re so close, the anticipation feeling like warm sand sliding under your fingertips. Joel wrestles a hand into the side of your hip where it’s tightly pressed to his, finding your clit with the pad of his thumb. Your babbling continues, Yes, I promise, I promise, and Joel nods, relenting.

He presses hard against the nub, and shoves himself in that much further, and you start to come undone beneath him, the waves of pleasure coursing through to the ends of your limbs.

He’s still moving above you, talking over you—good girl, good girl—removing his hand so as to not overstimulate you before bringing it up to brush his knuckles over the hinge of your jaw, so careful even as he hammers into you, “So sad, honey. Poor thing.”

You’re still caught up in your own rambling, but you tip your head yes and he picks up his pace again, chasing his own end, “Say it for me. Can’t do it unless you say.” His voice is a little warbled, and you can tell he’s crumbling.

“Please. Come inside me, Joel.”

Joel grunts, the noise catching in his mouth like a hiccup, overtaken with the pleasure of your permission. The heat of him spreading inside your body has your legs shaking and cunt pulsing in response.

You fight to catch your breath, running a hand over your face to snap back into focus.

He falls over to lay on his side, still connected to you, dragging you over with him. He hides his face in the fold of your neck, knocking his forehead into your throat.

“Really sweet of you to wait, honey,” he breathes, sliding out of you with a long drag, a thread of wet spooling out in his wake, “Now get the fuck out.”

#joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x you #pedro pascal characters #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #joel miller/reader #joel miller fic #kinktober 2023 #kinktober

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atlabeth · 2 months

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weight of the world

series masterlist

pairing: luke castellan x daughter of poseidon!reader

summary: percy returns to camp after a successful quest. luke battles his guilt.

a/n: a lot of you guys seemed to like the percy pov and the pure angst of luke doing all this stuff to his first love's brother percy jackson instead of just percy jackson and first and foremost i would like to say you're all crazy but i also agree. so here you go. title from the jon bellion song

wc: 5.6k

warning(s): reader is dead (i feel like i have to tag this every time lmao). angst made angstier with fluffy flashbacks. tlt betrayal scene (pit scorpion edition). everyone is so sad

When Percy returned to camp with Annabeth and Grover, they were hailed as heroes.

It might not have felt like it on the road, isolated with just the three of them, but they’d prevented a third World War. They certainly stopped camp from getting destroyed, if what Luke told them was true about the cabins taking sides.

Burning their burial shrouds felt even better, especially with the Ares cabin’s expert craftsmanship. Apparently it was a tradition because demigods died so frequently on quests—Percy took pride in breaking that unsettling standard.

It turned out all he needed to come into his own was to go on a quest everyone thought would kill him and not die.

He excelled during his sword fighting lessons—going against a god would do that for you—he’d gotten much better at using his powers—going against a god would also do that for you—and his team always dominated on the lake during races, though that might’ve just been him cheating.

He’d even started getting used to the Poseidon cabin in all its emptiness. It still felt too lonely, but he was working on it. The first thing he did when he got back to the cabin was pin your photo on the wall—Cabin Three belonged to you as much as it did to him.

And of course, everyone wanted to hear about how Percy saved the world. He’d told the story of his quest about a hundred times since he got back, sometimes with Annabeth piping in to set the record straight, sometimes with Grover dramatically setting the scene, always with a million different questions in between about how everything went down.

Tonight was no different in the amphitheater—a group of Athena kids wanted to hear about his fight against Ares again—but he managed to get out of giving them the excruciating play-by-play courtesy of campfire songs. Percy didn’t really mind, though—any night with a large, golden fire was a good night in his books.

Which was kind of how he ended up giving Luke the play-by-play of his quest. Maybe it was bragging, but he hadn’t seen who he considered his first friend at camp in a while. And yeah, sue him, but he wanted to impress Luke. He was cool and nice and good at everything, and Percy wanted to prove he’d made him proud.

“—And I thought I didn’t stand a chance, but she taunted me and told me to jump into the water if I was really Poseidon’s kid. So I did, and it worked, and somehow I lived.” Percy shook his head with a slight laugh. “It ended up all over the news. I was a nationally wanted criminal for a couple days. We also blew a bus up, and rode with a zebra and a lion to Vegas, and went to the Underworld— gods, we did so much. It was crazy, honestly.”

Luke chuckled. “I’m sure.”

Percy glanced over at him, his brows creasing when he saw his distant gaze. He didn’t think Luke heard a single word. “You good, man?”

He blinked and focused back on Percy, and though he smiled it was strained. “Yeah. Sorry—spaced out for a second. You were talking about your quest?”

Percy nodded slowly. “Yeah. The whole criminal thing.”

His smile turned a little more genuine. “You made front page news, too. I think you became the idol of a lotta kids here.”

“Oh, god,” he said with a frown. “You guys get news here?”

“Couple New York papers,” he nodded. “You’re camp-famous.”

Percy huffed a laugh and shook his head. “It feels crazy. I just got here a month ago, and everything’s already changed so much.” He looked over at Luke. “What did you do after you got home from your quest?”

“...It takes some getting used to,” he admitted with a shrug. “I mean, getting to camp after so many years on the road was rough—coming back to camp after getting this—” he tapped his scar— “didn’t help.”

“How did you get that?” he asked.

“You’re always trying to get the saddest stories out of me,” Luke said wryly. “You know you can read books, right?”

“I can’t, actually,” Percy said. "Not well."

Luke laughed and shook his head, his gaze falling back to the fire. Percy took it as him moving on.

“I— I know I’m kind of proving your point, but… I wanted to ask you if I could have a couple more pictures” Percy cleared his throat, brushing a few dark strands of hair out of his face. “Of my sister, I mean. Obviously, you have way more of a right to them than I do, but— but Cabin Three’s a little bare. I thought adding a couple current things to the old stuff she put up would be nice.”

His throat bobbed, and it took him a second, but he nodded. “Yeah. Yeah— sure.”

“Tomorrow after breakfast?” he asked. “I’ve got some free time before I have to go down to the forge.”

Luke nodded again. “Sure. You still have that picture I gave you?”

“Of course,” he said. “I already put it up on the wall. Do you want it back?”

His smile was bittersweet as he shook his head. “Nah. Like I said, you deserve to have a piece of her with you. And I’m sure she’d say the same.”

“I asked my dad about her, y’know,” Percy said. Luke’s eyes widened a bit as he looked back at him. “I went to Olympus on my own to return Zeus’s bolt, and the two of them were there. My dad and I got some alone time, and…” he shrugged. “I already annoyed two gods that day. Figured a third wouldn’t be that crazy.”

“What did he say?”

“That it was one of his greatest regrets,” Percy said. “And he’d never forgive himself for letting her die, and for what it did to her mom.” He glanced at Luke. “And to you.”

Luke’s chest stilled, his gaze going out of focus for a moment as a muscle worked in his jaw. He hid it well, but Percy knew. He’d spent enough time at home with his mom and step-dad, overheard enough one-sided arguments.

“You’re braver than me,” he finally said, and he stood up. “I’m gonna turn in—it’s been a long day.”

“I’m sorry, Luke,” he said. “And Poseidon is too, for whatever it’s worth.”

Luke didn’t look back at him as he started towards the path. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Percy.”

“Are you sure you’re allowed to put lights up?” Luke asked.

“Okay, Chiron,” you said cloyingly. “I didn’t know you were such a stickler for the rules.”

“I’m just worried about fire safety!” he exclaimed. “The Hephaestus kids nearly burn down their cabin at least five times a week.”

“They’re working with actual fire. These are just Christmas lights.” You glanced down at him and he handed you the next strand. “Besides, this is the safest cabin for possible fire hazards. And they look pretty—that’s all that matters.”

Luke chuckled as you hung them up, and he took a step back as you jumped off the chair and moved it to the other side of the room. You usually hung fairy lights, but with the holidays just around the corner, you wanted to make the place more festive. You asked Luke if he wanted to hang out with you while you decorated, and he obviously accepted. He took all the time he could get with you.

“It’s so quiet in here,” Luke said as you got back up, taking the next strand with you. “I’m not used to an empty cabin.”

“That’s what happens when you’re not supposed to be alive,” you mused.

“You of all people can’t say that.” He huffed a laugh and shook his head. “Do you ever get lonely in here?”

“‘Course not,” you said. “I’ve always got you following me around.”

“Can you blame me?” he asked. “Your company’s the best.”

You grinned and looked back down at him, and Luke gave you the next string of lights. “Or maybe you’re just a little crazy. You’ve gotta be to spend three years on the road with me.”

“Being around you is what’s kept me sane,” he corrected. “Especially in the Hermes cabin of chaos.”

You got up on your toes and lifted a leg up so you could lean to reach the last hook. “Oh, come on. Your siblings are so fun to be around!”

“Maybe in small doses,” he said wryly. “And be careful, gods—”

You looked down at him, your grin only growing. “Are you saying you’re worried about me?”

“Always,” he said, still watching you, “but the last thing you need is to break your leg.”

“It’s a five foot fall, Luke,” you said, amused as you got back on even footing. You hopped back down and tilted your head. “I’ve survived much higher falls.”

Luke frowned. “You don’t get to joke about that.”

“I thought you were dead too,” you defended. “That means it’s fair game.”

His chest twisted. He’d played that day over in his head thousands of times since he first lost you, wondering if he could have done something different or if he should have searched more—he stayed in those woods for a week and a half searching for you before another monster attack forced him out of the area. It was the whole reason he came up with a designated meeting area with Thalia and Annabeth if they got separated—he never wanted to lose someone again the way he lost you.

He shook his head with a sigh. “Sometimes I still can’t believe it, y’know?

“Thank my dad,” you said. “I would have died if I didn’t fall into water. And he’s the reason I got to camp.”

He’s also the reason you ended up on the streets in the first place, Luke wanted to say, but he held his tongue. You’d never shared his disdain for the gods, and he didn’t want to spoil your mood with his bitterness.

So he doesn’t. He tilted his head and focused back on you. “Do I ever tell you how thankful I am that you're still alive?”

You smiled as you pushed the chair in front of your desk. “I could always stand to hear it more.”

“Well, I’m thankful that you’re alive,” Luke said. He could have stared at your smile forever. “Mourning you was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do.”

“With any luck, you won’t have to do it again,” you joked. “I get it, though. Sometimes it feels like a dream. I thought I was hallucinating when you came over that hill.”

The best and the worst day of his life—he found you again and lost Thalia in the same five-minute span. It wasn’t fair—Luke had told Thalia so many stories about you, and she was the one that brought him back from the edge your supposed death sent him to. On his worst days, Luke blamed himself for both.

“Luke,” you said, jarring him out of his thoughts. “What do you think of the lights? Tacky, or festive, or both?”

He blinked, then took a step back with you so you could get the full view. He nodded. “Festive, definitely. Where’d you even get them?”

“The Big House attic,” you said. “It’s not just full of Oracles and spoils of war.”

He chuckled. “And how did you convince Chiron to give you those?”

You shrugged. “You know I’m persuasive.”

Luke shook his head. “I’m jealous. No one else really gets to decorate their place like this.”

“No siblings means full creative control,” you mused. “And Big Three dad means a big cabin all for me.”

“And yet you still get a twin bed,” he said with a smile. “We’re all equal, really.”

“Like you wouldn’t prefer a full.” You fluffed your pillow then set it back down. “You spend as much time in here as I do.”

“Can you blame me?” Luke shrugged. “There’s no privacy there. We can get away with basically anything in here.”

“And because you love me,” you said cloyingly as you rustled your hair with his hand.

“Yeah,” he said with a smile. “I really do.”

Your smile widened and you gestured at your box of decorations. “Wanna prove it, loverboy? Help me get the rest of this up before sword lessons.”

“Y’know, I’m leading them today,” Luke said, picking up a stack of snowflake cutouts. He was pretty sure you just took all the rejects after you were in charge of the crafts for a week. “Technically, that means we’ve got as long as we want.”

“Oh, Luke Castellan,” you said airily, pressing a hand to your chest. “You know the way to my heart.”

“Oh,” Percy said. “Wow.”

“Yeah. And this is only one of them.” Luke set a cardboard box full of things on an empty bed and sighed. “She made this place her own while she was here.”

Percy took out a stack of baseball cards on top—Red Sox, of course, the only bad thing about you—and shuffled through them. “Everything’s a little dusty.”

“No one really wanted to come in here after she died,” Luke said. He had a tangled mess of Christmas lights in his hands. “All this stuff stayed up for a year or two before I took it all down.” He huffed a mirthless laugh. “You’re probably the only one apart from me to be in here since she left.”

Percy set the cards down. “Do you mind if I put some of it back up?”

Luke glanced at him. “Why do you always ask me? This is your place.”

“It’s not just my place,” he said. “I… I want to make sure I’m honoring her well. And I don’t wanna make it harder for you. Especially if you took it down for a reason.”

Luke was silent for a moment as he stared at the lights. He brushed off some dust with his thumb.

Percy felt bad for pushing the matter every time he was around Luke, but there was a tug inside of him—an innate need to know more about her, a desperation to honor her life despite never meeting her.

“I appreciate it,” he finally said. “But go for it, man. You don’t have to get my permission.”

Percy nodded, and he took a poster out, wedged in the side of the box. A Blondie poster, based off the huge block letters above a blonde singer stylized in pop art. It had a torn corner, and bits of tape had been folded over some parts of the edges.

Luke chuckled. “She was a huge Blondie fan. She brought her Walkman when she ran away—I lost count of how many times we listened to Parallel Lines. Definitely put that one back up.”

Percy nodded and set it on his bed. He looked at the lights in Luke’s hand. “Why’d she have those?”

“She loved to light the cabin up,” he explained. “Said it made it feel more homey, and she liked to change it with the seasons. And when she enlisted the Aphrodite kids, it was like a— a HomeGoods warzone.” Luke shook his head with the most genuine smile he’d seen all day. “She really was something special.”

Again, Percy’s heart clenched. It wasn’t fair he only got to learn about you through stories, only through the past tense. If he could get his mom back, why the hell couldn’t he get you back? Why couldn’t his dad have stepped in?

What good was regret when you have all the power in the world to stop it? What good was being a god if you couldn’t save your family when it mattered most?

“Y’know, I decorated this place a million times with her,” he said, and Percy was thankful for the interruption with his thoughts. “She wanted it to be a welcoming cabin, open to the whole camp if they ever got homesick.”

“So the opposite of what it used to be,” Percy said wryly.

“Yeah,” Luke nodded. “You two are the first Poseidon kids in a long time because of the oath—it was just here for respect. She didn’t just make it into her home, she made it into a home for anyone that needed some extra warmth.”

Percy looked around, trying to imagine you and a younger, unscarred Luke putting all this stuff on the walls, him helping you hang Christmas lights. You sitting on a bed, maybe what he’d chosen as his bed, talking a younger camper through their fears or their homesickness. You forcing the innate coldness of Cabin Three out and replacing it with warmth of your own.

“Did you bring any pictures?” he asked.

Luke nodded again and took a few out of his pockets, offering them to Percy. He took the one sticking out the most and smiled a bit.

“Very Poseidon of her,” he commented.

“She loved the beach,” Luke said, smiling wistfully. “No matter what state we were in, she would always try to find one. We could’ve walked twenty miles that day, and the moment she stepped into the water she would be good as new. I should’ve known who her dad was a lot sooner.”

Percy’s hand lingered on the picture he’d just put up. You stood on a sandy shore with your arms spread and head tilted back, and you looked wholly in your element.

He wondered what you would think of Montauk.

“This was one of those times?” he asked.

Luke nodded. “North Carolina. A year and a half in, I think. We missed the East Coast after being in the Midwest for so long, and naturally, she found a beach immediately.” His eyes softened. “She was always so happy around the water, even after she knew what it meant.”

Percy frowned. “What do you mean?”

He shrugged. “Finding out the thing you’ve always loved is the domain of the father who abandoned you is a little rough.”

Luke always spoke with more nerve towards the gods than any other camper he knew. Funny, considering he was one of the first ones to tell him that names had power.

And he’d been acting weird since Percy got back from the quest. He thought maybe he was jealous, but Luke didn’t really seem like the jealous type—especially when he was already so cool.

Then again, they did just come back from the brink of a possible world war. Percy should’ve been surprised more people weren’t acting weird.

His attention drifted to the clock on the wall in the midst of his thoughts—Chiron’s last ditch effort in a camp full of time-blind kids—and his eyes widened.

Percy muttered under his breath—Annabeth had taught him some Ancient Greek curse words on the road, and he was sure his mom would love them—and looked up at Luke. “Sorry, man. I’ve gotta go. Time really got away from me.”

“I get it,” he nodded. “Have you gotten any better?”

He glanced away bashfully. “Not really. But Beckendorf has the patience of a saint. Maybe someday I’ll make an actually functional sword.”

Luke chuckled, though it was wistful. “Good luck. You mind if I stay here for a bit? I can put up some of her things.”

“Yeah,” he nodded, “of course. Stay as long as you want.”

Percy stopped once he got out of the door. Luke’s gaze was glued to a picture of you on the wall, his expression softer than he’d ever seen before at odds with something indistinguishable in his eyes. Again, Percy felt that all-encompassing dread, and he swallowed the lump in his throat.

He left before it could consume him, but the haunted look in Luke’s eyes didn’t leave his head for the rest of the day.

You took in a deep breath of salty air. The sea breeze blew over you as waves gently rolled into shore, and you smiled. You never felt more like yourself than when you were at the beach, and when you and Luke were constantly on the run fighting for your lives, sometimes you desperately needed to feel like yourself.

You exhaled long and slow. It had been a particularly rough week—Luke did his best patching up your shoulder, but it would definitely scar—and this was just what you needed to wind down before you started moving again.

You and your mom went to Cape Cod a lot when you were growing up, and though this wasn’t anywhere close to the same, it made for an alright stand-in.

The click of a polaroid camera interrupted your peace, and you opened your eyes and turned your head to see the culprit.

“And you made fun of me for constantly taking pictures,” you said wryly.

Luke smiled. “I made fun of you for taking up valuable space in your bag to bring your camera with you. I can’t not take pictures of you—especially when you’re so photogenic.”

“Flatterer.”

“Not if it’s true,” he remarked. He held out the camera to you. “Wanna get any pictures of the sea? You’ve got a better eye than me.”

“Well, the sea’s a better subject than me,” you said. “Hold onto it.”

He chuckled and took it back, drying out the newly printed picture. “How’re you feeling, by the way? I know it’s been a hard few days.”

“Never better,” you said. “I needed a break from the road.”

“I get why you wanted to stop here,” he said. “It’s… calming.”

“Isn’t it?” You spread your arms out, breathing in deep once more. “I always feel better out here. More free.”

Another camera click, and your smile grew. “How do you feel?”

“Better too, surprisingly. But that might just be because we’re walking instead of running.” You heard his footsteps and he came up next to you. You took the picture he offered and chuckled. You had your head back and your arms spread, soaking up every bit of sun and sea air you could.

“I look like a stock photo.”

“Does that mean I can get a job as a photographer?” he asked. “We could use some extra cash.”

“Half of the pictures are either random parts of nature or me,” you said. “Who’d buy those?”

“Me,” Luke said. “But I don’t think that would help with our money problems.”

“All this flattery won’t get you anywhere,” you said.

“It got me here,” he said. “I think it’s worked out pretty well.”

You smiled as you looped arms with Luke, and after you gestured with your head, you started walking down the sand together. Whereas you always felt like you were blurting out the first thing that came to mind when you were around him, Luke always knew exactly what to say to make you feel better. “Do you like it here?”

Luke nodded. “It’s nice. I get why you like the water so much.”

“At least one beach a week going forward now that we’re on the coast again, then,” you said. “Deal?”

“Deal,” he agreed.

“Good,” you said with a smile. “I’ve been wanting to go back to Virginia Beach. Last time, those giant ant things ruined it for us.”

“Gods,” Luke grumbled, and you felt him shiver. “Don’t remind me of those things. I’ll never forget what their poison smelled like—and I’ll never forgive them for ruining my favorite shirt.”

“Don’t worry,” you said. “I’ll get you a Red Sox one someday, and it’ll become your new favorite shirt.”

Luke shook his head. “Your Boston baseball propaganda isn’t gonna work. I was raised as a Yankee.”

“And I’m here to undo that awful brainwashing,” you said sagely. “Next time we go through Massachusetts, I’ll have to get you one. And we can stop by Cape Cod—I think being close to the water is good for my health.”

“And I like seeing you happy,” he mused. “So I guess it works out for both of us.”

You laughed. “We’ll have to stop at a music store before the day ends, too. I’ve nearly worn out my Cyndi Lauper tape, and I need to get some new ones. You should pick out an album you like too.h”

“‘Course,” he said. “I think we’ve got some extra cash saved up. And if we have to—”

“We shouldn’t steal anything yet,” you interrupted. “I don’t wanna get the cops on our backs so soon.”

“You say that like I would get caught,” Luke remarked. “It’s literally in my genes. I’m making my father proud, and I’m helping you. I see no reason not to do it.”

“Cool it,” you said. “We’re not becoming Bonnie and Clyde at the ripe old age of eleven.”

“Fine.” You couldn’t see it, but you could sense his smile. “I’ll hold off. For now.”

That got another laugh out of you as you leaned your head against his shoulder. It felt like you’d been on the run for a week straight—this was the best break you could have asked for. Maybe the sea was good for your health, you thought. Or maybe it was just Luke.

Either worked for you.

Percy could hardly breathe as he stared down at the scorpion, slowly inching its way up his pants leg. It wasn’t every day one of your friends betrayed and tried to kill you in the woods, but this seemed like the year he started checking things off his bucket list.

“So this was your plan all along,” he said, attention split between the pit scorpion and the traitor. “Gain my trust, send me to Tartarus, start a war for Kronos.”

The air got colder, and Luke tilted his head. “You should be careful with names.”

“And you should do the job yourself,” he challenged. “You want to kill me? Fight me like a man.”

“I’m not Ares,” he said tartly. “You can’t bait me.”

“So you’re a coward too?” Red hot anger rose within him, and the words left him before he could really think about them. “Did you also lie about my sister? Got a hobby of killing Poseidon kids?”

“Zeus got her killed, Percy!” Luke yelled. There was something wild in his eyes as he gestured with his sword. “I loved her more than anything—I held her as she died, and your dad let it happen. If it weren’t for the gods, both her and Thalia would be alive!”

Maybe it was a good thing Percy didn’t know that until now. If he knew the king of gods was responsible for his sister’s death, he would’ve gotten himself burnt to a crisp on Olympus.

“This isn’t what my sister would have wanted,” he said. “She—”

“Don’t you dare talk about her!” His voice continued to rise. “You don’t know her— you don’t know what she would have wanted!”

“She couldn’t have wanted this!” he exclaimed. Percy’s breath caught momentarily as the scorpion inched closer and he forced his muscles to remain as still as possible as his gaze flicked back over to Luke. “This isn’t the way to fix things, Luke. I promise.”

He shook his head, and he could have been a son of Ares the way fire seemed to blaze in his eyes. “She died because of Zeus, Percy. She was so close to sixteen, and that meant she was a threat to his power. He sent monsters to kill her, and your dad could have saved her, but he didn’t do a damn thing about it. And y’know,” Luke huffed a laugh, cold and mirthless, “the same thing’s gonna happen to you.”

His blood had turned to ice. “He knows the pain of losing a daughter. Why would he—”

“Because they don’t care, Percy!” he yelled, his sword cutting through the air again. “All they care about is keeping their power and their position. Your dad would rather send you on a death quest than stop stroking his ego for one measly second. Hades sent monsters to kill Thalia, and Zeus sent monsters to kill your sister—they can’t punish each other, so they punish us, and the cycle will never stop until we make it stop.”

“And you think that this is the way to do it?” he asked desperately. “By betraying camp and all your friends? We’re in the same position as you are!”

“And anyone that’s smart will join our cause,” Luke said. “Do you really think I’m the only one that’s upset with the gods? I’ve been here for five years—I’ve seen kids leave for the school year and never come back. I’ve seen kids die without ever being claimed. My own dad turned me away at every opportunity. Our numbers are bigger than you know, Percy.”

“You say I don’t know my sister,” Percy said, “but I know her enough to know she wouldn’t want this. Not in her name. Not against our father.”

“You don’t know her at all,” Luke said, voice trembling. “If she knew that Zeus killed her for nothing but paranoia over a bullshit prophecy, she would be fighting against the gods right beside me.”

“I lost her once,” he continued, shaky but full of anger, “and then I got her back, just to lose her all over again. The gods will never know that kind of pain—if they did, they wouldn’t have let it happen in the first place.”

The scorpion was at his knee now. Percy was running out of time, and his mind was working in overdrive on how to get more, but he found himself rendered speechless. What could he say to a boy who’d lost everything?

Luke was the lightning thief, he’d fully intended to kill Percy with those shoes, he meant to turn the gods against each other and raise Kronos, and now he was really trying to kill him.

And yet, he couldn’t help but feel sympathy.

Percy thought he’d lost his mother, but now she was back. He’d met his father in person. He had a sister he’d never meet, that he would never be able to fully grieve. Luke loved her and grew up with her and grieved her twice.

Percy didn’t care—anyone who his sister loved couldn’t be a bad person. Not fully.

“Please, Luke,” he said, voice low. “I don’t know how to solve it, but this isn’t the way. You think the gods are using you? Kronos is doing the exact same thing.”

“You’re twelve, Percy, and you’re already the chosen one,” Luke said. “Hades and Ares would have both killed you if they got their way, and it was your job to stop a war between the gods because they couldn’t see beyond their egos. How is that fair to you?”

“There was no other choice,” Percy insisted. “If either of them backed down, they would look weak. We’re the only ones that can do quests like this.”

“Exactly,” he said. “They start petty fights that they can’t finish and it gets taken out on us. We have to be their heroes, and we have to praise them as we die.”

Percy remembered their bus exploding. Medusa, an innocent woman favored by Poseidon and punished by Athena for it. The endless souls in the Asphodel Fields, and even more waiting in line for their chance to be judged. Luke’s quest given to him by his father permanently scarring him, Thalia Grace sacrificing herself for her friends, his sister never getting the chance to see sixteen—Percy himself being used as a pawn to enact Kronos’s plan.

“You don’t have to be a hero,” Luke continued, almost begging at this point. “You can join our cause—you can prove you’re so much more than the prophecies want you to be. Say the word and I’ll call it off.”

Percy wasn’t exactly the pinnacle of godly respect. He tricked Hades, insulted Zeus, and actually fought Ares. But his dad loved him—or loved his mom, at least. Annabeth’s determination and Grover’s steadfastness and all the friends he’d made at camp—all innocent children like himself. He couldn’t turn his back on that.

Percy clenched his jaw. “I will never serve Kronos.”

Pain flashed in Luke’s dark eyes, but he shut it down just as soon. “So be it.”

He slashed his sword through the air and a ripple of darkness appeared, the void bleeding into the forest.

“I really am sorry it came to this, Percy,” Luke said quietly. “But it’ll be quick. And that’s a bigger mercy than Zeus gave your sister.”

Luke disappeared into the darkness and it vanished soon after. Percy didn’t have time to think about his words—the scorpion had reached his thigh. Sixty seconds, Luke had said, then it was over.

Percy had about five seconds to think of a plan before it lunged at him. He batted it away with one hand and uncapped his sword with the other, cutting the scorpion in half before it could reach the ground.

He thought he did it. Then he looked at his hand, a red welt already sweltering on his palm, oozing sticky yellow liquid.

Percy stumbled to the creek and submerged his hand, but nothing happened. He muttered a delusional prayer to his dad, then to his mother, then to you as he stumbled his way towards camp. Nymphs emerged from their trees, and he croaked a plea for help.

As Percy collapsed, barely caught by nymphs on either side, he swore that he saw you. Did that mean he was dying? You had kind eyes like his mother, an aura of warmth unlike the feverish heat in his body, and it made the idea of it a lot less scary.

He wondered if he’d meet you in Elysium.

Percy reached a leaden arm out to you, mumbling your name despite his cottonmouth, and then his vision went black.

#the difference between luke w hurricane and luke post hurricane hurts me and im the one in charge of this whole operation #makes me feel a little crazy tbh #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan fic #luke castellan angst #percy jackson and the olympians x reader #pjo x reader #x reader #daughter of poseidon #child of poseidon #sadie writes

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bellaxgiornata · 2 months

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Falling For the Devil [Part ninety-three: "The Unexpected Introduction"]

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader Word Count: 3.6k

Summary: You show up at Matt’s office hoping to surprise him and walk home together.

Or You end up with a few surprises yourself.

[Series of one-shots about Reader meeting, falling for, and dating Matt Murdock.] [FFTD Series Masterlist]

Warnings: 18+ for this series; contains humor, fluff, romance, angst, smut, violence

a/n: The installment in which y'all find out who the hell Matt ran into from his past not that long ago that put him in a bad mood and kickstarted Reader's recurring nightmare. Who's it going to be? Feedback is always appreciated!

Tag List: @ninacotte @mattkinsella @stilldreaming666 @murdocksclient @madscamp02 @1988-fiend @linamarr @pinkratts @schneeflocky @acharliecoxedfan @yarrystyleeza @theetherealbloom @danzer8705 @lionalsowrites @harperdoodle @kmc1989 @lunaticgurly @mattmurdocks6thscaleapartment @pazii @kezibear @sleepysleepymom @eatingtheworldsoffanfiction

Finally reaching the building's entrance where Nelson, Murdock, and Page was located, you extended a hand forward and pulled open the door. Stepping inside, you readjusted the strap of your purse on your shoulder as your tired feet easily began the familiar trek down the winding hall towards Matt’s office. You hoped that he would be excited to see you after the long day you'd had because you hadn’t told him you were going to stop by after work.

Each step quickly became more uncomfortable than the last, the backs of your dress flats starting to irritate your heels now, painfully digging into your skin. You'd been on your feet most of the day today chasing different leads for a story you'd been working on, and unfortunately your shoes hadn't been the most comfortable pair for the task. Now all you were looking forward to doing was walking home with Matt and having some time alone with him before he inevitably went out as Daredevil later–something he'd been doing a bit more frequently lately. But as you approached the office suite, the door with all three of their names displayed on it finally in sight, you could hear an angry voice coming from the other side. An angry voice that was clearly arguing with someone. It took you only a second to distinguish Matt's enraged tone.

Stopping just in front of their door, you hesitated, both your hands awkwardly clutching the strap of your purse. A frown settled onto your lips as you caught the rest of what Matt's distinct, irritated voice was saying.

“–irresponsible, Karen?”

“I'm honestly tired of hearing you bring this up all week, Matt,” Karen snapped. “It has absolutely nothing to do with the firm. Let it go already.”

“You represent our law firm!” Matt shot back. “Tell her, Fog! She's making a terrible decision! At the very least it makes us look bad!”

Chewing your lip as you stood frozen in front of their door, you caught the sound of Foggy’s unmistakable nervous laugh.

“Oh whoa, I've made it very clear that I am staying very, very far away from this,” he answered. “I'm not touching this with a twenty foot pole.”

An aggravated noise came from Matt, one you knew all too well from when his nights as the Devil didn't go as planned. Maybe stopping by to walk home with him after work had been a bad idea today. He hadn't seemed upset earlier when you'd spoken at lunch and he'd told you he had something he wanted to ask you, but now you were contemplating turning around and just leaving. But just as you turned, prepared to hurriedly shuffle back down the hallway and wait for Matt at home, you heard him call your name from inside the office.

You winced immediately, pausing mid-step. Of course it was ridiculous to think you could sneak away without him recognizing your presence, especially being in such close proximity. He'd already told you many times before how easily he could pick up on your heartbeat when you were half a block away even in the busy city foot traffic, there was no way a lone door was going to do much to hide you from him.

“I can hear you out there, sweetheart,” Matt continued, clearly trying to restrain his anger as he spoke. “You might as well come in instead of trying to disappear.”

Sucking in a breath, you turned back around and cautiously opened the door, stepping inside their office. The smile you'd forced onto your face wavered as all three of them immediately turned their attention on you. Nervously you shut the door behind yourself, taking a few steps into the room but staying near the safety of the exit when you spotted the look of barely contained rage still on Matt's face in conjunction with the way his hands were positioned on his hips. You knew that stance. He was clearly furious.

“Hey guys,” you greeted them awkwardly with a wave, one which only Foggy returned along with an apologetic smile. “Sorry to interrupt. I just–just figured I'd stop by and walk home with Matt when he finished tonight.” Eyeing the tight lipped expression on Matt's face and Karen’s annoyed and rigid posture, her arms crossed over her chest, you quickly added, “But it seems like I walked in on the middle of something and I should probably just leave and let you all get back to…whatever it is that you've got going on.”

“You're not interrupting anything,” Karen said, gesturing a hand towards Matt. “By all means take him home, we've been done with work for a bit now. And I could use a break from his constant chastising.”

Matt's hands tightened their grip on his hips, a muscle jumping in the side of his cheek. You took a step back towards the door, already aware that his temper was about to flare up again with the way the corner of his lip was twitching. And sure enough, he was quick to round back on Karen.

“You're being absolutely ridiculous about this,” Matt scolded. “At the very least, think about your own safety.”

Karen blew out an irritated breath, rolling her eyes at Matt. “Oh please,” she replied. “I'm not in any danger, Matt, and you know that. You're just being dramatic because you're still pissed about the other week.”

Another frustrated growl rolled out of Matt, one of his hands flying off his hips to loosen the collar of his tie. You glanced over at Foggy who was on the far side of the desk that all the three of them were standing around. Brows jumping up onto your forehead, you mouthed ‘what's going on’ to him. But Karen apparently caught the silent question you'd asked and her attention returned to you.

“It's not work related so there's no reason why you can't know,” she told you. “It's because–”

“ No ,” Matt snarled, taking an abrupt step towards Karen as his expression noticeably darkened. “She doesn't need to be remotely involved in anything to do with him .”

Karen scoffed, rolling her eyes at Matt. You continued to stand there in confusion, brows furrowing together as you attempted to make sense of what they were arguing about. Across the room, Foggy was shaking his head and focusing back on packing up his briefcase.

“We're friends, Matt,” Karen pointed out. “You think she's never going to meet the guy I'm seeing? Because that's a little ridiculous.”

Head tilting to the side, the look of confusion remained on your face. “Justin?” you asked curiously. “You both are arguing about Justin? Because I've already met him a few times, Matt. And you were there.”

Karen grinned back at you, a genuine smile on her face as she shook her head. “No, not Justin,” she answered. “We broke up a couple of weeks ago because someone else…reappeared in my life.”

“ Karen ,” Matt growled in warning. “I told you I didn't want her to know about any of this.”

Karen glared over her shoulder at Matt, her blue eyes narrowed. “Well that's unfortunate for you then because he was on his way here to the office to walk me home after work.”

Matt's expression briefly faltered, his mouth falling open at what she'd said. And then his head snapped to the side, his mouth quickly closing as a frown drew itself across his lips. You saw his jaw begin to grind back and forth in irritation as he focused just beyond the office wall on something. Seconds later his attention shifted straight to you.

“We’re leaving,” he ordered. “ Now .”

He leaned over, grabbing his cane from the desk beside him and roughly beginning to open it. He was moving in a rush it seemed, something that appeared to only further annoy Karen. Though you noticed Foggy was also beginning to move a little faster with packing up his things.

Who the hell was Karen dating that had these two reacting this way? He couldn't be that bad, could he?

A knock came from the door behind you, the sound drawing you from your racing thoughts. You saw Matt’s hands pause their movements as he stiffened beside the desk. Without thinking you turned, reaching a hand out to open the door for whoever had knocked since you were the one standing beside it, but just as you twisted the handle you heard Matt call out behind you.

“Sweetheart, don't!”

Swinging the door open, you came face to face with someone you'd recognize absolutely anywhere. The Punisher. Frank Castle.

His brown eyes rose up from where they’d been focused on the floor, landing on you. Your body instantly froze, eyes going wide in surprise. Whoever you’d been expecting to open the door to find, it certainly hadn’t been him.

You knew him well–or at least, well enough from your time working in the media. The only person who’d ever painted him with any sympathy back during the days when New York was terrified of him was Karen. Her pieces about him had certainly humanized him to you back then, making his violent actions seeking revenge for his family's death make sense. But still. The man had gone on countless shooting sprees in public, which was the main thing you remembered about him in this exact moment with him standing right there in front of you, his imposing figure filling up the entire doorway.

“Ma’am,” he greeted, dipping his head before glancing around you. “I'm just here to see Miss Page.”

“Right, yeah,” you muttered, quickly stepping out of the way.

“Hey, Frank,” Karen greeted, her voice visibly brighter than it had been a moment ago. “I see you’ve now met–”

“No,” Matt spat out, suddenly drawing you backwards and placing himself between you and Frank, “he hasn’t.”

Frank’s dark brows knitted together on his forehead, his eyes narrowing just a fraction back at Matt as his head cocked to the side. Then the corner of his frowning lip twitched upwards into an amused smirk. Matt only squared his shoulders, his muscles tensed like he was about to throw a punch while his left hand white-knuckled his cane.

“That your girl, Red?” he asked. “The one you been telling me to stay away from?”

Matt didn’t say anything in response, though he continued to attempt to block Frank’s view of you behind him. Over by the desk behind you, you heard Karen let out a sigh.

“Yes, it is,” she replied. To Matt she added, ��He already knows about her because I’ve told him about her. Because she’s one of my friends , Matt.”

“Well now we’re leaving,” Matt replied sharply to Frank. “So you meeting her ends here.”

He reached a hand out behind himself, easily finding and grabbing onto your wrist. With a slight tug he pulled you after himself and you stumbled forward behind him. Matt led you back towards the desk with him, only releasing your hand to grab his briefcase from off the top of it. Karen shot you a sympathetic smile over Matt’s shoulder as you stood there entirely confused as to what all was going on.

“He's not attending that gala, either,” Matt warned Karen. “Find another date or go alone, but he isn't coming.”

Karen let out an irritated breath as she crossed her arms over her chest, leaning back against the desk behind her. “Do you really think he's the gala type, Matt?” she shot back.

An aggravated rumble came from within Matt's chest in response before he turned, his red lenses flashing under the lights overhead as he focused on you. You sucked in a breath, unsure what you were supposed to do or say right now to not further upset him. You still had absolutely no idea what was going on.

“Home. Now,” Matt ordered.

“Okay,” you readily agreed.

Matt began to lead the way out of the office, his body stiff as he moved. You caught the tension in his jaw as he began grinding his teeth when he passed by Frank. You ducked your head and followed after him, desperate to ask him what was going on when you had both gotten out of the building and he’d hopefully calmed down. Behind you, you heard Foggy quickly scurrying out of the room after you, muttering an awkward goodbye to both Karen and Frank as he went.

Just as you passed through the door you caught the sound of Frank’s voice saying your name. You paused in the doorway, noticing the way Matt came to a halt farther down in the hall, his head immediately snapping over his shoulder. Glancing nervously back into the room just beyond Foggy, you saw Frank smiling back at you.

“Was good to finally meet you,” he said. “Karen’s told me all about you.”

You sent him a nervous smile, aware of how much Matt probably loved hearing that.

“Yeah uh, you too,” you replied awkwardly.

Once more ducking your head and hurrying down the hall after Matt, you heard the amused chuckle coming from Frank in the room behind you just before Karen’s hushed voice scolded him for the comment. Rushing towards the building’s exit, Matt, Foggy, and you walked the winding hallway in silence until you finally stepped back outside onto the sidewalk. Though the moment your foot hit pavement, Matt had swiftly spun around to face you.

“You need to stay away from Frank,” Matt warned you without preamble. “He's dangerous and I don't want you getting hurt, sweetheart. Are we clear on that?”

Your eyes darted over to where Foggy was standing on the sidewalk beside Matt, but he quickly glanced across the street instead of meeting your gaze. Fingers nervously fidgeting with your purse strap again, you focused back on Matt.

“I mean I'm not planning to become his best friend,” you began cautiously, “but if he's really dating Karen…I get the feeling he's going to be around us all on occasion, Matt.”

“You know who he is, right?” Matt asked.

You sighed, nodding. “Of course. What kind of New York City journalist would I be if I didn't?” you questioned back. “But at the same time…I do remember Karen’s articles. The man lost his family tragically. Right in front of his eyes. It…kind of makes sense that he'd want revenge. Do the things he went out and did.”

Matt's dark brows dipped behind his glasses as his head tilted sharply to the side. “Are you saying you agree with what he did?”

“No!” you exclaimed, quickly shaking your head. “Not at all. I'm just saying I understand why he did it. And that he at least wasn’t on some mass rampage for the hell of it like a completely deranged person. There was a reason. One that I think would be hard to understand without having been in his position. But Matt,” you continued, voice gentler, “what's got you so worked up about him? I highly doubt Karen would be with him if he was going to hurt her or any of us. I mean hell, it was your firm that represented him in court. And what the hell did Karen mean about you still being pissed about the other week? Because I’m guessing that had something to do with Frank, right?”

Matt's gaze dropped down towards the pavement, that muscle jumping in his cheek again. You glanced over at Foggy only to catch him quickly look away once again, avoiding eye contact. What the hell was going on?

“You want to tell me what I clearly am being left out of?” you asked, anger rising in you as you focused back on Matt. “Because I thought we didn't keep secrets, Matt. What’s been going on?”

Shoulders dropping in defeat, Matt let out a sigh. His entire demeanor immediately changed before your eyes and your curiosity piqued even further.

“The other week,” Matt began slowly, “when I came home injured and had a bad night out? Do you remember when I told you that I'd run into someone from my past?”

You nodded. Of course you remembered that night, it had been the sole cause of that damn recurring nightmare ever since then. And you'd never stopped wondering just who he'd run into that had gotten such good hits on him through the protection of his red suit, or who’d put him in such a foul mood.

“Yes,” you answered.

“It was Frank,” Matt confessed. “I caught him chasing after someone that night. I got in his way and stopped him because I will not have anyone killing people, especially not in my city. But of course he didn't…agree with me. At first. Not until after we'd fought.”

“Oh,” you said, everything beginning to make more sense. “So that’s who’d given you those bruises?”

Matt nodded, his gaze still downcast. “We’d come to a sort of agreement afterwards, Frank and I. But then a few days later I find out him and Karen started seeing each other. Which is just–” he paused, shaking his head, “–completely absurd. He’s dangerous. He attracts dangerous people with what he’s doing.” His head rose up, his attention returning to you. “Which is why I want you to stay away from him. I don’t need you getting caught up in anything he has going on, alright? It’s not safe.”

You held up your hands, eyes going wide. “Okay, okay,” you replied. “Like I said, I really don’t think I’m about to become best friends with the Punisher, even if Karen is dating him. But again…I can’t exactly avoid him completely, either. I’m not going to stop being friends with Karen, Matt.”

Matt blew out a rough breath, nodding slowly. “I know, and I’m not asking you to do that,” he replied. “Just…keep some distance from Frank. Please?”

“Okay,” you assured him with a nod. “I can do that. Now can I have my Matty back and the growly Devil can come back later tonight? Because I’ve had a long day and I was looking forward to walking home with you.”

A small smile grew on his face, the tension somewhat easing further from his body as he nodded. You found yourself feeling a little more relaxed yourself at the sight, your mood beginning to lift back up. But then Foggy abruptly clapped his hands loudly together beside you, causing you to jump as your eyes flew over towards him.

“Great!” Foggy exclaimed. “Glad that’s settled finally. Now Matt, do you want to tell your girl about this weekend or should I?”

Your eyes shifted back and forth between the two men curiously. Foggy was smiling wide as if the past ten minutes hadn’t just happened while a little smirk began playing along Matt’s lips. Eyes narrowing suspiciously back at him, you wondered what else was going on.

“What?” you asked.

“We were invited to a gala for this weekend–” Matt began.

“Last minute, of course,” Foggy cut in, clearly too excited to let Matt take the lead, “because I’m sure it was meant as a slight against our firm. But either way, we still got an invite.”

Matt chuckled, the warm sound a welcome one after how angry he’d just been. You couldn’t help the little smile from spreading out along your face as Foggy’s energy started to rub off on you.

“It’s to raise money for underprivileged children in the city,” Foggy continued. “It’s an annual thing, but it’s this fancy gala that quite a few prestigious names in the city attend. And we get to go this year!”

“Wow,” you said, attention returning to Matt as your excitement for them grew. “That sounds like a great opportunity for the firm!”

“Well,” Matt began, that smirk still on his lips, “I was hoping you’d grant me the privilege of being my lovely date to the event this Saturday evening.”

The smile immediately faltered on your face at his question. You noticed the way Matt caught your reaction with the slight tilt of his head and faint furrow of his brows. Fingers once again nervously toying with the straps of your purse, you tried to hide the anxiety that suddenly flooded you.

“Does uh, does this fancy gala have a dress code?” you asked hesitantly.

“It’s black tie,” Foggy answered.

You winced, chewing your lip nervously. “Oh,” you breathed out. “And it’s… this Saturday? Because I–I don’t exactly have anything to wear to something so…nice.”

The smirk returned to Matt’s face almost immediately. “Neither does Karen,” he told you. “So she’s taking tomorrow off to go shopping for a dress. And I figured maybe you could take the day off and go with her. Have a nice girl's day together. Pick out whatever you want on me. Dress, shoes, purse. All of it.”

Your eyebrows immediately shot up onto your forehead in surprise. Matt had never done anything like that for you before. In fact, no one had. Beside him, you saw Foggy nudge Matt with an elbow.

“Always so damn smooth, Murdock,” he teased.

The cocky smirk only grew on Matt’s lips as he remained focused on you. “So what do you say, sweetheart?” he asked. “Care to accompany me this weekend?”

Teeth clamping down on your lip, you tried to fight back the smile attempting to take over your face. A black tie event meant that you’d get to see Matt in a tux again–a rare treat. And there was absolutely no way you were going to miss that opportunity.

“I’d love to,” you answered.

Matt’s smirk grew into a wide grin, the anger he’d been feeling moments ago entirely replaced by a look of love as he gazed back at you. And now you secretly found yourself looking forward to having him with you Saturday night instead of out as the Devil once more.

#matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x you #matt murdock series #matt murdock #daredevil #fftd

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randxmthxughts · 1 year

Text

your lips, my lips, apocalypse - neteyam x omaticaya ! reader

summary: when y/n hangs out with the women at the lab and decides to put on lipstick to feel pretty, her friends start to make fun of her. but not neteyam, he thinks she looks cute

contains: fluff, fluff, FLUFF, fluffy Neteyam, bf!Neteyam, bf material

wc: 1k

a/n: basically, i’ve been thinking about the sully kids hanging around the labs all the time and being fascinated with normal human stuff, especially with the makeup. then i saw this trend on tiktok, and i find it so cute and adorable, i wanted to do something similar with neteyam. so don’t thank me for the extra neteyam fluff you’re getting today… actually, do thank me please, i love the encouragement ♡

masterlist

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

Whenever the Sully kids would visit the science facility, you were always there to tag along. At first, it was because Neteyam had to keep an eye on his siblings, and you were basically attached by the hip to him. But as your visits became more frequent, you found yourself growing fascinated with the things humans brought with them from the Earth. The small gadgets they used, the clothes they wore, but especially the makeup. You could sit and watch women fixing up their makeup for hours. The way they would open their mouths while coating their eyelashes with thick black paint, or the way they’d change the color of their lips every time you saw them. One time you even noticed marks of the said colors on one of the men in the lab, and while the others found it gross, your heart fluttered at the thought of leaving similar marks on Neteyam.

"Do you want to try it?" Marissa nodded at you through the mirror, as she finished applying her bright red lipstick, "Come on, it will be fun."

You hesitate for a second before nodding your head in agreement. The idea of seeing yourself with painted lips has always intrigued you. Marissa stands up to level herself with you and holds up two lipsticks, one is bright red - the one she's wearing, the other one is pink.

"Which one do you want?"

When you catch your reflection in the mirror for the first time, you can't help but break out into a giddy smile. The pink lipstick on your lips makes them appear bolder on your face, and your eyes are instinctively drawn to them. Marissa watches your reaction with a grin and compliments you on how beautiful you look. You too feel special, the same way you feel special when you dress up for celebrations.

You jump to your feet soon after, eager to find your friends and show off your new look. But your heart shatters into a thousand of pieces when you see their confused faces. Spider and Kiri stare at you with widened eyes, and when Lo'ak follows their gaze to you, he bursts into laughter.

"Lo’ak, shut up," Kiri slaps her brother but it is too late.

"It just looks... weird," Spider adds with a whisper.

You squirm under their stares and make your way towards the exit, eager to get away. But your plans are quickly derailed when you bump into Neteyam. You don’t want him to see you like this.

"Whoa, where are you rushing off to?" Neteyam asks, as he places his hands on your shoulders. You hang your head low, avoiding his gaze.

"Nowhere," you mumble, trying to shake him off. "I'm going home. Just let me."

"What's wrong, yawne?" Neteyam lifts your chin up with his fingers.

You watch as his pupils widen when he catches a sight of pink on your lips. Your eyes threaten with tears, and your lip starts quivering involuntarily out of embarrassment. Surely, he must think you look ugly too. Before Neteyam can even open his mouth, you storm out of the facility.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

When Neteyam sees you quietly sobbing in your hammock, his chest tightens with ache. After finding out the way his siblings reacted to you earlier and scolding them for hurting his beloved, he practically ran to talk to you.

"Yawne," Neteyam says softly before scooching himself in your hammock.

As you try to wipe away the tears of shame, Neteyam beats you to it, his hands gently cupping your cheeks. You know he hates it when you cry, always blaming himself for it. His face grimaces with pain, while he tries to dry the wetness off your skin.

Neteyam's gaze then shifts to your lips, and you cringe, remembering that you still had the stupid lipstick on.

"I forgot to wipe it off," you mumble, embarrassed.

"Leave it. I want you to keep it on."

"But I look ugly with it," you sniff.

"Nothing can ever make you look ugly, syulang," Neteyam leans in, nuzzling your face, "I think you look very pretty."

"You truly mean it? The others were laughing at me..."

"They are stupid children," he scoffs.

"They are."

"You know I don't like it when you're upset,” Neteyam pulls away slightly to look at you, his voice soft and soothing as he speaks, "Will you please smile for me?"

His words make you feel giddy, knowing that he speaks to you in a way that he doesn't with anyone else. You smile right away, eager to please him. He can’t help but smile back.

"Can I kiss you?" he asks cautiously, "I don't want to mess up your lipstick."

"I have a better idea," you chuckle.

You lean in towards Neteyam, and instead of kissing his lips, you plant a soft one on the corner of his mouth. His lips twitch at your touch, but he patiently lets you take your time. Pulling away slightly, you examine the lipstick mark you left on his skin. It’s a little faint, so you press another kiss to his cheek, this time harder. Then another one to his temple, and his forehead. Neteyam laughs under you, fully aware of the kiss marks you’re now leaving all over him. Finally, when his hands catch you by the waist and pull you onto his lap, you can't help but admire your work. Neteyam beams at you, his face and neck covered in pink marks of your lips.

"You’re done now?" he asks, noting your satisfied grin.

"Hmm, I think that’s enough," you tease, "Now everybody will know that you’re mine."

"Everybody already knows that, yawne," Neteyam grins, "Now can you finally kiss me on the lips?"

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sincerelyneo · 26 days

Text

hickeys | z.cl

❯ summary: Your boyfriend, Chenle, is competitive. And even though the comment about you giving better hickeys than him was a joke — he’s always up for the chance to prove you wrong. Yes, he loves you, but that doesn’t mean he’d let you get away with thinking he was bad at something — especially not something you claim you’re better at than him — so he settles it.

❯ pairings: chenle x fem!reader

❯ genre: established relationship, very suggestive, fluffish, very slight minor angst, reader is slightly inexperienced.

❯ words: 2.9k

❯ tags: 18+ minors dni!, marking/hickeys, a lot of kissing, light petting, chenle is sulky, brief mentions of jealousy, chenle and reader have a hickey competition idk????

“Can you believe the nerve of that guy?” your boyfriend huffs, shaking off his coat as the two of you usher through your shared apartment.

He’s pissed — scrap that — he’s beyond fuming. He’s angry that the guy at the coffee shop you frequent every morning thought he could ask you for your number the moment he slipped away to the bathroom.

He just can’t seem to quite understand it. It’s not like you were alone — you and Chenle had walked in together. And Chenle knew the guy on the counter knew who he was because, for the last three months of your relationship, the two of you had made it a habit to get coffee at that same cafe on your street corner every morning.

“He probably just didn’t realise we were together. Don’t think too hard about it babe,” you say wrapping your hands around his waist as he hangs up his stuff on the coat rack.

Chenle rolls his eyes before turning around. He’s upset you’re trying to brush this off, but he knows it’s not your fault so he still places a gentle kiss on the top of your head. Then, he unwraps your hands from him and walks to sink into the soft black couch, pulling out his phone and scrolling through it.

You know he’s still pissed but is pretending not to be. You see the harsh way he’s gripping his phone case, and the way his eyebrows keep knitting together, and the frustrated sighs he keeps letting pass through his nose.

But the whole thing is silly really — but you know he doesn’t see it that way. And honestly, if the shoe was on the other foot, you’d be beyond pissed too.

“He didn’t realise we were together my ass,” he mumbles.

You cross your arms over your chest as you stand in front of him, “are you seriously jealous right now?”

He sees the way you’re smirking at him, teasing him, and he hates it.

“Being jealous would mean he has something I want-” he puts his phone down on the spot next to him and leans forward on his knees, eyes fixed on you “-I already have you. He should be jealous of me.”

You let that comment slide with a roll of your eyes.

“He might just be new, LeLe, and he might not have seen us walk in together.”

Chenle knows that’s not possible. He knows the barista was not some new recruit — he was the same guy he’s clocked eyeing you every time he seemed to be on shift. Your boyfriend hated the way the man's eyes would flick to your lips as you ordered; and the way he’d let his hand linger for too long when passing you your change.

At first, he didn’t mind it. He was proud to have such a beautiful girlfriend that was so unaware of the effect she had on other people. What bothered him was when he made a point to wrap his hand around your waist, tight, and the man didn’t care, still making advances at you.

Yeah, that’s what pissed him off.

“It doesn’t matter, he should have seen that hickey on your neck and minded his own fucking business,” he growls.

Your eyes widen, remembering the way your boyfriend lightly feathered kisses down your neck before sucking down, only hard enough to leave a light bruise as replacement when he pulled off with a pop, last night.

It’s then you realise he’d made sure to do that to you every single night for the last three months — even if you weren’t having sex that night. And even though the mark would be slightly faded come the morning, you still reprimand him for it.

In fact, your boyfriend had never expressed an interest in marking you until you had started your morning coffee ritual. And then it clicks.

“Zhong Chenle, have you been marking me on purpose?!”

Your sulky boyfriend sheepishly sinks back into the couch, lips pursing into a line. Your hands go to your hips, and so do his eyes, as you wait for a response from him.

“It’s not like that, Y/N, I swear, it’s just…he…ugh…I don’t know,” he’s starting to get flustered and you can’t help but giggle at him.

You take the seat beside him, holding his hands in yours.

“You’ve been giving me hickeys every single night to prove that I’m yours?” you ask, a smirk twitching at the corner of your lips. Chenle nods, making you smile. “Well, you’re not doing a very good job at it if guys are still hitting on me.”

You’re joking, trying to lighten the mood and add a smile to his face, but he doesn’t find you funny. The minute the words leave your lips, Chenle’s eyes darken, and the hold you have on each other’s hands tightens.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

He drops your hands immediately and turns his body to face away from you. You realise you’re making the situation worse and can’t believe your boyfriend’s being so sulky about something you thought was a none issue.

“Oh come on, Chenle. I’m just playing around,” you bring your hand to his cheek to turn him back to look at you. He brushes your hand away, but stays facing you — you’re thankful for that at least.

“Sounds like your saying I give bad hickeys,” he mumbles. You have to laugh at him, he’s being ridiculous. “It’s not funny.”

You roll your eyes, “No, I’m saying maybe I should give you the hickeys from now on to clear up everyone’s confusion.”

“You think you give better hickeys than I do?” His eyes have narrowed on you.

You knew of your boyfriend’s competitive nature, and now he’s giving you a look he only ever really gives to Haechan when the two of them play video games; or Jisung when they’re playing basketball. But now, he’s directing that look at you, tense jaw, tight fist, slit eyes.

He looks so hot like this, all riled up, confronted and pissed off at you. You can’t help but swallow the lump in your throat and clench your thighs together as your pussy flutters at the sight.

“Chenle, I’m playing with you-”

“You’re challenging me,” he corrects, leaning in to brush against your skin. He whispers discreetly in your ear.

You don’t dare to make a sound, feeling the pit in your stomach rise. He takes his middle and pointer fingers and taps them against last night’s purple mark. He pokes his tongue out of his mouth then you feel his wet lips brush the spot. Your breath hitches and Chenle laughs, the throaty sound vibrating on your neck so good you almost moan.

“This isn’t good enough for you, huh?” he pulls back to examine his work. His fingers are rough as he rubs up and down against the mark, cooing as he soothes the soft spot of your skin. Once he stops, you gasp as his hand grips your jaw so that your eyes meet his. “Think you can do better?”

“C-Chenle,” you breathe out as his grip keeps you in place. You love the dominance the gesture exerts.

His other hand grazes up your thigh, his thumb caressing the inner part of your skin. The touch is small, but it doesn’t stop your body from going on fire.

“I think we should put this to the test, don’t you think?”

“W-W-What do you mean?” You can’t think straight, not with his hand inching closer and closer to your panties. And you know the minute he reaches them, he’ll tease you about the wetness already pooling there.

“I suck your neck, you suck mine,” he nuzzles back into your neck now, his breath fanning over you as he whispers low. “See which one of us is really better.”

You shove him back because you can’t believe what he’s saying. Chenle never lets you mark him, not with his job, so you’re in a state of disbelief. That and you just couldn’t take any more of him acting like this without jumping his bones right there on the couch.

"That’s not fair, you know you have more experience than I do,” you object.

Chenle huffs, “You’re the one who started this by saying I give bad hickeys.”

“I never said that.”

“Might as well of.”

He’s impossible.

"And besides baby, have you ever heard of quality over quantity, you could prove me wrong-” his touch comes back as he nuzzles in closer. “I don’t think you will, but I’d love to go see you try.”

Now it was your turn to feel challenged. If this was how he wants to play, then fine. You were gonna do this, and you were gonna give it your all proving him wrong. You narrow your eyes and lick your lips.

"Alright, fine. But I’m going first,” you turn your body a fraction to meet his direction.

Chenle tilts his head back upright and looks at you with shock. You glimmer a grin, knowing he wasn’t expecting you to agree so soon.

“Bold for someone who was just complaining about having a lack of experience,” he teases and you scowl.

"Ever heard of quality over quantity?" You mimic him.

Then, you're tilting his head and leaning into the crook of his neck. You start off gently, easing in very calm and slow. His lips gently part at the plush feeling of your lips. You’re taking your time with it — and it’s killing him. You don’t suck or bite just yet, only gently kissing him in very calming spots.

You begin to pick up speed starting to suck but keeping a gradual build. You moan into his skin causing vibrations to ripple through him making him grunt. When you pop off and look at the red mark starting to bruise on the side of his neck, you smile. You look down to see his cock straining against his jeans — and that does wonders for your ego.

“Don’t get too smug-” he pulls your hips closer to him. “It’s my turn now.”

Your stomach starts to turn in your nerves as you straighten your back so you’re closer to his head level. Your chest gently rises up and down as his hands start gripping your thighs. He’s so close you notice just how good he smells.

You felt a brief exhale from him, humid air gliding down the arch of your neck. You gently shallow out your breathing, and that’s when he leans in to make contact with you.

You force your eyes to stay open, wanting to bask in the feeling of his warm contact on your sensitive skin. Your boyfriend was also one cocky motherfucker, so you refuse to let a sound slip from your mouth or allow your eyes to shutter in ecstasy.

His first initial touch is wet and warm. And when he starts moving, he begins slowly with very tender kisses. He does that thing you love when he moves up closer to your ear knowing that’s the spot that gives you the most pleasure.

You know this isn’t a fair battlefield. Chenle knows all the right things to do that have you squirming and writhing underneath him — and God did he know it. You’d never given him a hickey before, so you were already at a disadvantage.

His kisses keep getting heavier, parting his lips with a subtle suck between his teeth, sending sharp shocks through your body. He notices you jolt and starts soothing the skin with a lapse of his tongue after.

Then he starts integrating suction, right below your ear. He sucks with a roughness he knew you enjoyed, breathing heavily in an almost pant. You couldn't help but allow your eyes to feather shut against your will. You bite the inside of your cheek, refusing to make a sound and feed his already large ego.

His hand grasps your side, gripping you firmly right below your rib cage. The touch applies heat to your stomach, the pleasure of his fingers digging into your sides. He sucks on different places until he’s back up to lace under your ear. You bite your cheek harder as his hands start gripping your bare thighs more aggressively.

Those hands start creeping further up your skirt until his left-hand rests above your panties. He takes your earlobe between his teeth, and at the same time, his hot breath huffed right into your ear. You uncontrollably shiver and tilt your head back a bit, making him smile against you sadistically.

"Aren’t you fidgety?" He whispers, as his hands start teasing the material. He loved to gravel a choppy exhale against your ear, knowing the sound and feeling always made you shiver.

“Because you’re not playing fair, Chenle,” you grip his hand, stopping him.

He knows he’s not — but he doesn’t care. The only thing he cares about right now is winning and hoping you swallow your words.

“Really?” He asks, “I don’t remember us having any rules.”

His face is flush flat right against your cheek, his deep breath exhales on your skin as he loves every minute of you squirming.

“W-We didn’t, but this is c-cheating,” you finally let out a whimper and want to curse yourself after trying so hard to fight it.

“What’s cheating?” He asks innocently, his hand moving back to the wet material between your legs.

“This,” you grab hold of his wrist, but you're not strong enough to stop the way he teases your waistband and glides his rough digit above your pubic bone.

“What’s ‘this’?”

“You’re not allowed to touch me like this. It’s cheating!”

Chenle laughs but doesn't remove his hand. And deep down you didn’t want him to — despite your protests. Instead, he greedily makes you take your own hand, which was white-knuckling your other thigh, so he could have full access to spread your legs open. Your chest was rising now, eyes looking down at the large ring-covered hand brushing between your thighs. Chenle’s eyes flicker with lust, and you’re certain yours do too.

He curls his lips into your neck, satisfied. The gentle noise of euphoria he had gotten out of you was enough to fuel his fire, because from there he started going harder. He continues grunting against your ear, lacing down just below it to leave what you assume to be violent marks.

His large hand curls into your underwear rather than just sitting on top of it. You cussed under your breath, stomach jumping.

He doesn’t touch you, leaving his hand to just linger before your folds. It causes a burning heat between your legs so much that you couldn’t help but shift in your seat. Your body was screaming to be touched at this point.

"Are you sure you want to consider this cheating?" Chenle coaxes in your now sensitive ear. “Wouldn’t want to break the rules now, would I?”

You know he’s lying. He’s never given a fuck about rules. Ever.

You shake your head, trying to shift and cause any kind of friction you could get, but Chenle snaps his hand from out of your panties.

You’re so overwhelmed at this point but in the best way possible. His lips continue to massage your neck in rough-tempered ways, his hand only rubbing the skin of your thigh but they’re almost quivering.

“Please Chenle,” you whine.

The game had completely left your mind by now. His hand eventually moves to your core, and he cups you over your panties. You uncontrollably let out a struggled moan, being too turned on to handle anything right now. He delicately grazes his fingers up and down your covered pussy.

"Still think I’m bad at this?” He talks into your neck.

"I-I never—”

Chenle’s fingers suddenly — but finally — slip into your underwear, making you gasp when you feel him graze your naked folds. Your body flexes in startle, but even the lightest touch from him felt so good.

"You’re wet.." He whispers, pulling his hand back out.

You hated the way he kept doing that.

You pull your head away from his lips, making him lock eyes with you. When he did, his face dropped a bit when he picked up your lustful expression. His eyes flick to your chest, rising up and down.

His hand stills on your thigh, "Still think you’re better at this than me?”

Fuck no.

You shake your head violently making him grin. There’s more amusement in his eyes than you would have liked but right now you don’t care — you just needed him.

He takes the fingers that have toyed with you and taps them against the wet spot on your neck. He coos, rubbing over the stinging skin.

"Think this should be enough to keep him away from you.”

You bite your lip and nod. You can’t see the damage just yet — but the way he’s just been ravaging your neck — you're sure he’s done a number on you.

Your chest is still rising up and down. Core aching and body screaming at you to beg for him.

"Say it, baby," He tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear. "Say I won, and I’ll touch you…”

You don’t waste a second more, your body on fire with need.

“Of course, you won, Chenle! Now hurry up and fuck me!”

#chenle smut #nct smut #nct dream smut #chenle x reader #nct x reader #nct dream x reader #kpop smut #nct scenarios #chenle scenarios #nct hard hours

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keegansgf · 3 months

Text

“modern! mizu hcs”

Okay finally becoming a BES writer after I convinced myself Mizu would sooooooo be a bassist. This is a combo of modern Mizu relationship hcs and band+uni hcs :3 warning, I hardly edited this because I'm tired. Also I WILL be taking Mizu requests

pairing: mizu x fem! reader

tags: domestic bliss…?, modern! au, bassist mizu, band! au, other characters mentioned 🗣️

Mizu is oddly good at home decorating? It’s not a hobby or interest of hers, in fact, she thinks her room is quite plain, but the cohesive colors and pretty decent-looking fake plants say otherwise. (She would love to buy real plants, but she frequently gets swept up with time to care for them properly.)

A lot of your apartment is decorated by her, but in the sense that you asked her if an item would work with house and she either liked or disliked it. She wouldn’t have really cared about shopping for home decor if not for you.

Mizu gets so upset when it’s hot out since she can’t go a day without wearing layers. The apartment (or her room at least) is cold 24/7 whether you like it or not

She tries to go grocery shopping with you as often as possible despite her lack of cooking abilities. Her memory is perfect, so you rarely ever need to make a grocery list! Plus, she likes doing simple things with you. Her childhood was chaotic, so the normalcy of shopping with someone she loves puts her at peace.

She survives off of snacks; it’s a terrible habit of hers, and she knows. It gets worse when either you’re not at home to cook, or she’s out somewhere else. Normally, she walks into the kitchen when she smells food or when you call for her, but she’ll completely forget to eat a real meal otherwise.

Though Mizu rarely (if not ever) has guests over, she makes sure your space and things are respected. If you’re out and your room door is open, she’ll close it. Any special glassware that you bought for personal use, like mugs? Nobody is allowed to touch them.

She’s gotten mad at Taigen for messing with your stuff before.

She isn’t much of a clean freak, but she’d prefer to have things kept orderly as often as possible. She enjoys splitting the chores with you, especially seasonal cleaning.

She’s extremely mindful of personal space. Even if she thinks you look adorable napping on the couch, the most she’ll do is kiss your face and fix your blanket. She’d love to join, really, but she’s afraid of waking you or making you uncomfortable. The last thing she wants to do is disrespect you.

She’s extremely touch-starved but doesn’t know how to make physical contact with you at first. She opened up when you first got together and started asking her for hugs, etc. Now, she loves the smallest of purposeful, or accidental touches, whether it’s brushing up against her, or her hand resting at your hip or waist while you’re out together.

Though you have separate rooms, you’ll sleep together on most nights (usually in your room– she finds your bed more comfortable, plus your room smells like you!)

The only time she heavily insists on staying in your rooms is if one of you gets sick, no exceptions. She hardly ever falls ill, but she’d rather not risk it. That doesn’t stop her from taking care of you, even if the only hot meal she can prepare is upgraded instant noodles or an easy, fool proof soup.

She has a horrible habit of making confining rules for herself, even if she’s on track with certain goals. You have to put hard work into easing her up to let her realize she has a lot more freedom than she thinks she has.

She doesn’t mind dates that you go out for, but she loves cute little dates at home. She doesn’t dislike showing you off, she just appreciates the private intimacy between you two. Even if she isn’t a great cook, she’s happy to help you measure or chop things while you talk.

Speaking of, acts of service is a huge love language of hers. If she can’t do something well, she’ll compensate for with something else that she’s better at to make your life easier.

"Band + Uni Hcs"

Mizu has a habit of not making herself visible on stage. It’s not completely intentional, but her usual spot on stage has harsher lights and this carries over to every single venue. The constant squinting was giving her headaches.

Following up with that, she’s so light-sensitive. It takes a good minute or two for her to adjust from a dark room to bright lights. At some point, she considered getting darker-tinted glasses but keeps putting it on the back burner.

She doesn’t dislike showing you off on stage, but she’d rather not be all the talk at school when it comes to your relationship. This doesn’t mean she lets your relationship go unnoticed though– she makes it very clear she’s taken and doesn’t participate in flirty behavior with any of the audience

Taigen however

The only reason she’s the band's bassist is because nobody else knows how to play. Taigen could play in theory, but he didn’t want to, plus, he thought bass was too easy.

He says that and can’t write a bassline like Mizu. He does write insane guitar solos though, and he can definitely make up something on the spot under pressure. That's actually how a couple of his solos were made.

Ringo is so good at budgeting that it’s genuinely impressive, but he’s not thrilled at how much of that budget cuts out good quality food to keep up with his uni payments. Luckily, Akemi made sure to let him know he was free to experiment with cooking at hers anytime! He's the only one with a spare key to her house. (more on that later)

Akemi knows how to play so many instruments, but none of which are typical band instruments. Her house has a pretty extensive collection of instruments, just no drums or electric string instruments aside from an electric harp. Her father didn’t really monitor her hobbies in her own house, so she played around with whatever piqued her interest first. She had been playing piano and koto since she was young, so she’s automatically the keyboardist (and vocalist,) but she pulls out an odd instrument here and there during a show for fun.

Taigen does have a podcast. The equipment was bought by Akemi with the hopes that he’d have a new hobby, but… sigh.

Ringo is an insanely good drummer, but he couldn't care less about having a music career. He agreed to join because all his friends were in a band– plus, they needed a drummer. Turns out, he’s a natural!

Mizu knows how to play drums too, and she’s great at it, but Ringo unintentionally disses her sometimes on her technique. He’s definitely said something like “Oh, wouldn’t it be easier to…?” She doesn't care much since she knows he means well. That does NOT stop her from continuing to catch accidental strays from him

Taigen and Akemi sort of live together? Akemi’s dad is a little sour about him not returning her home on time. That got his house key privileges revoked for three months. He’s welcome to stay by Akemi’s word, but she doesn’t keep a spare key for him, so he’ll have to be let in by her. Occasionally, he'll ask Ringo to let him in if he happens to be over to cook or practice at a different location, but if Akemis dad catches them, they're both getting an earful. That hasn't happened yet, luckily

Akemi has a couple of songs with a crazy keyboard solo that she has never in her life messed up. She worked through blood sweat and tears to perfect every solo she's written and has her muscle memory down.

Taigen is actually a really good guitarist, but he does make a fair amount of mistakes that he gets dogged on for– most mistakes being dropping his pick. He doesn’t really mess up chords, but a lot of their fans are waiting for that day to come (it'll never happen honestly)

Mizu could and does definitely show off on stage sometimes, but she won’t be pushed into doing a solo for the life of her.

Nobody can touch Mizus instruments except for you and Ringo (he’s a great bass and guitar tech somehow– he just has a lot of specific things he can pick up.)

Mizu, Taigen, and Akemi do separate gigs. Mizu does a little bit of everything– a lot of the bands she plays for are usually gothic rock or metal.

Ringo makes sure Mizu’s basslines can be heard with the drums while Taigen has a running joke of playing too loudly over her basslines during practice. Mizu isn't thrilled, to say the least.

Akemi gets extremely frustrated whenever she has mic problems. Honestly, she wouldn't mind a keyboard problem, but a mic problem is too much

Mizu’s bass wasn’t decorated until you came around– She wants something that reminds her of you on her instrument, so she had you make stickers of your lipstick print to slap on the body of her bass.

By no means are they a large band– they definitely are a local uni band that probably would get popular eventually, but nobody really cared enough about their popularity enough outside of their other hobbies

Speaking of, both Taigen and Mizu do Kendo

Akemi is a top-tier lyricist– she puts her interest in poetry to work ^_^

Taigen has an insanely expensive pedalboard along with a collection of pedals (From Akemis money)

Every day, Akemi considers using a keytar, but the music shops nearby don’t carry good quality keytars and she gets so upset when they aren’t comfortable enough to play.

Taigen has a set practicing schedule on his own, but he often gets held up with classwork. He also has a set sleep schedule but sometimes takes time out of rest to catch up with practice.

Eji tries to come to their shows, but he isn’t much of a fan of the noise level when it comes to live music. He doesn’t understand Mizu’s more alternative gigs, but he’s happy she’s able to get around. He used to lecture Mizu for not wearing earplugs to her shows when she first started performing.

Taigen and Akemi have their own shoegaze duet act together outside of the band– they're getting quite popular from that!

Mizu has written a few songs herself for fun after Akemi texted the group chat about a delay on lyrics due to writers block. She actually finished up recording those songs herself after you found her notes, and urged her to actually make and post those as songs.

#do it like dior #do it like dior.#keegansgf #mizu #mizu x you #mizu x y/n #mizu x reader #mizu blue eye samurai #blue eye samurai mizu #blue eye samurai #blue eyed samurai #blue eye samurai x reader #blue eye samurai x you #bassist mizu #bassist! mizu #modern au #band au #modern mizu #blue eye samurai modern au

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sh0tanzz · 3 months

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wonbin as your boyfriend based on astrology !

(reminder that this for fun and astrology is something I study for a hobby, these are all inferences based off of observations and not exact fact unless I knew him myself !!)

warnings: small mention of suggestive innuendo but nothing extremely graphic I'll only do NSFW asks if requested.

Pisces Sun : Honestly I knew from the jump when I first started to stan Riize that Wonbin would be a water sign 😭, people claim that pisces men are toxic+manipulative etc. However EVERY sign is capable of toxicity/negative behaviors so I will not feed into those stereotypes. As a boyfriend he'd be pretty shy in the beginning, before you two even dated he would probably stalk your socials and eavesdrop in your convos to gather info before even actually talking to you. He's be pretty...delusional LMAO ! especially with his venus in pisces, you could post a song on your notes and he'll think to himself... "she wants me.." yet wont text you until his confidence was high enough. Ngl he might be slightly flakey, he'd take a min to respond at times and might not be super precise when planning things out for the two of you.

Libra Moon: This makes me feel like he'd be pretty considerate and would thoroughly think out the pros and cons before doing anything just to avoid upsetting you and to ensure your comfort. He could be very observant on the reciprocity of the relationship so if he feels like things aren't even or fair he might retaliate, for example if he feels like you're distancing himself he might take a step back as well. Also do NOT make him question your feelings for him because he will FLEEE THE COUNTRY libra moons take their love and kindness seriously and will feel upset and even embarrassed when taken for granted .

Aquarius Mercury: This placement makes me giggle knowing he couldn't keep up with the whole "cold mysterious guy" persona SM tried giving him 😭. He'd be goofy especially in private and would use his wit to flirt. Would most definitely mess with you and rile you up just for jokes. In a recent vid I've seen he said he'd play/joke around since he's relatively shy to break the ice and it seems super true to me. Would also use music to communicate or send you songs pretty frequently.

Pisces Venus : Siri play Dangerously in love 2 by Beyonce !! Venus in pisces can be soo sweet. He'd love you unconditionally and for your authentic true essence. He could be pretty clingy, tagging a long as much as he can and will want your attention and this paired with his Libra moon points towards him wanting to impress you/get praised. Once again would love to bond over music. The gifts he'd give you would be things that make you feel special and customized to the info he knows about you. He'd be literally stuck and severely down bad once he fully develops feelings. Would plan dates with an aesthetic touch and would want romantic moments between you two to have a "straight out of a movie" feel to it. He would also fall very hard very fast. He'd also want to have a sense and feeling of being "taken care of" since there's sm venus influence in his chart and a lack of domineering energy. Downside he can be too lost in the glitz and glamour of the relationship that he ends up not acknowledging or downplaying the problems in the relationship or even his own red flags.

Taurus Mars : He may not be super direct or would want to take certain things slow during the beginning of the relationship since Taurus values its boundaries as well as comfort and hates to be rushed. Before the relationship even begins he might be a bit hesitant to even approach or out his feelings unless he was 100% confident or sure. Taurus rules the neck, throat/vocal cords, and shoulders. Sssooo he may enjoy receiving neck kisses/hickies, kisses along his shoulder or even massages along his neck and shoulder line or would try to do that to you. Similar to Gemini mars he also may find your voice as a sensual turn on and very attractive and would try to hear it often.

Other Aspects:

Moon/Mercury trine: Would most definitely remember facts about yourself that you've told him especially those he deems important to you. He'd also remember the nostalgic moments between you two

Mercury/Neptune conjunct: Generally sensitive and it can show in how he communicates especially in high tension or stressful moments in the relationship

Mars/Uranus sextile: Random moments where he's very spontaneous and will require a lot of freedom and could feel suffocated within the relationship if not given time to himself

Potential Toxicity: (reminder that any/everyone is capable of being toxic and everyone has negative traits these could be POTENTIALLY true)

Venus/Pluto square: His feelings can become quite intense and he can become extremely possessive as well as SUPER jealous to the point his partner might feel constricted and like he's their shadow. Can also be super sensitive and take things that you might not find as deep very personal.

Hope you enjoyed, I might do Sungchan or Anton next :P

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bonny-kookoo · 10 months

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Jungkook

𝓘 𝓛𝓲𝓴𝓮 𝓨𝓸𝓾 (say it back): Soft 🔞

It's his favorite word to describe you.

Tags/Warnings: Girly!Reader, Introvert!Jungkook, non-idol AU, opposites attract AU?, established relationship, Angst, Major Fluff, some drama, Slice of Life (like Good Girl AU for example), mc is kook's biggest simp, kook is kind of overwhelmed by her love sometimes, but it's fine they both cute, smut in this, manhandling, he cums inside but she's got an IUD please practice safe bed-athletics thank you, we explore Jungkook's hidden kinks together haha

Length: 1.4k Words

Masterlist

A/N: There's still no taglist.

━━━━━━━━━━.~°♡°~.━━━━━━━━━━━

Soft.

It's the perfect word to describe you, in his opinion. From your skin to your hair to the way you smell or touch him. Soft.

It's been a little over half a year since dating you, and there's already been changes happening with him. His mom had noticed the way he carries himself changing, had told him earlier this week how much confidence he'd apparently gained- and it had been then that he'd told her he's finally found a girlfriend. He's never brought anyone over to his parents before, way too worried about how it might look like if he and his partner would change frequently, just because he's not good at choosing the right people to surround himself with. So, revealing that he's got a girlfriend had been a huge thing to his entire family.

But he doesn't actually feel worried at all. You're the sweetest thing he's ever met- it's just the first impression you give that can sometimes be a little too bold.

But he doesn't mind any of your antics. You're honest- and he appreciates that.

And he can't deny that your love isn't exciting in other ways, too.

You've made a joke about him being the best lover you've ever had up until this point- but from the way you arch your back and close your eyes, he's got to believe that there was some truth to it. You're completely out of it, underneath him as he thrusts his hips into yours, hands on your thighs keeping you in place for him. They're soft, too- just like the sounds you make.

He's become more comfortable and confident in that aspect, too. Sex.

It's been somewhat of a necessity almost in past relationships- something he'd want to have over and done quick with the lights off because it's just awkward. Everything about it was awkward to him- from the noises to the smell to the act in general-

But with you? It changed. Awakened something even.

You're addicting, in the way that you're just so raw and unfiltered. You don't hide any side of yourself, you're bold and bright and colorful and confident, and you're just so fucking pretty to him that it makes his head spin.

The first time with you had been a little awkward. The second time after, it was a bit more relaxed. On the third, he'd jumped over his shadow and eaten you out for the first time in his life.

And oddly enough, that had changed something within him.

Ever since then, he'd become experimental. Sex in the shower, a handjob in the bathtub, taking you in the back of his car, or buying a remote controlled vibrator for you online just because. He can never just leave it at something simple anymore, has to take you until his body gives out, has started to imagine things one dirtier than the next.

Especially after yesterday, when you'd told him nonchalantly how your IUD insertion had been the most cruel and painful thing you've ever had to go through- and after some questions of his own, he now knows that you still have it.

And right now, he's in bare, without any condom, and he wants, no needs to see that scene that had been haunting his dreams last night in real life for himself.

It had been a thought in his head for a while now. His main fantasy he'd think of whenever he was trying to get off by himself.

And it worked every single time.

"Can I-" He presses out between his teeth, slowing down for just a moment to lean down and kiss your neck, giving you a second to collect your thoughts back again as you squirm, legs wrapping around him as you try and move on your own. "Can I cum inside?" He asks, and you nod instantly.

"Yes, Jungkook just- just move!" You whine, trying to move your hips, but one of his hands instead pushes them down into the bed, your strength not enough to go against him. "Fuck you-" You start to complain, but he's got the audacity to chuckle.

"Though you wanted me to fuck you?" He jokes, and your eyes tear up in frustration, making him move his hands to instead hold your cheeks as he kisses you-

Hips slowly picking up pace again.

"Don't worry, princess-" he hums, making you hold onto his forearms as if to need something to keep you grounded. "-I never let you down, do I?" He wonders, and you nod, quietly. "I always take good care of you, don't I?" He asks, pushing his hips in deep before he stays there. "Right?"

"Yes!" You whine, nails digging into his skin a little as he laughs again, leaning back to straighten his back out, hands grabbing your thighs. He finally moves again, rolls his hips into yours while holding your legs again, skin slapping loudly against skin, but he doesn't care.

All he can see is your back arching, your head pushing back into the pillows, your tits rhythmically swaying up and down with every thrust he delivers. It's a sight he never wants to ever forget, a sight he knows he's blessed enough to witness.

It's a sight that's his to see. It's a sight that only belongs to him. He's never really thought about it, hasn't really been considering him possessive or anything- after all, you're a free spirit, and he allows you to do whatever, really. You can dress how you want, you can playfully flirt with your friends if you like, it's not a big issue to him.

Maybe because at least up until now, he's not really felt like anyone had truly challenged the idea of him being together with you. There's not been any instance of someone trying to take you away from him.

And maybe once that happens, his mind will change a bit.

But right now, he's got you, right in his hands. Right now, you're undeniably his as he clenches his jaw, watches you come undone underneath him, thighs trembling under the force of your orgasm, before he pushes himself in deep, throwing back his head himself for a moment as he reaches his peak as well.

The room is filled with the sounds of your shared heavy breaths, before he pulls out, his own chest still rising and falling with deep breaths. He can't help but reach out as he watches your clenching core, fingers spreading you open for him to see as you jump a little, still sensitive-

but he soon notices the way you move your hips again, toes curling as his thumb begins to more gently coax another, last orgasm out of you-

and then, it happens.

As soon as you come undone, he watches almost hypnotized how his cum starts to run down your core, and it's such a scandalous sight- no porn he's ever watched coming close to this.

"Kook, I'm gonna leak on the bed-" You whine tiredly, as he barely catches what's running down your leg, before his hand pushes it back in, while he leans over your body, kissing your lips, before he moves to your neck, making you giggle as the tips of his hairs tickle your skin.

"Better keep it inside then." He hums against your neck, and you dramatically whine at that.

"Kook please, I'm gonna die!" You complain, and he laughs.

"What?" He chuckles. "I'm just saying." He shrugs.

"You're making me horny again, please stop you demon!" You argue weakly, wrapping your legs around his waist. "Now get off me so I can go pee." You say, and he nods with a smile.

"You better keep it in though, or you might get it on your pretty carpet-" He teases-

a slap sounding through the room as you playfully hit his thigh, making him laugh while he watches you run to the bathroom with one hand between your legs.

#bts imagine #bts fanfic #bts fic #jungkook imagine #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook imagine #bts jungkook x reader #bts jungkook fanfic #bts jungkook imagine #bts jeon jungkook x reader #bts jeon jungkook imagine

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k-daydreams · 11 months

Text

The pursuit of Feeling Alive: I. Intro

Pairing: Azriel x fem!reader, PLATONIC!IC x reader

Synopsis: cousin to Rhysand and Morrigan, y/n was once her family’s golden child. Faced with trials and tribulations her whole life, she needed reprieve— a distraction. Until a surprise homecoming opens Pandora’s box, and gives y/n a reality check. Especially facing her once close friend Azriel. Friends to Enemies to lovers trope.

Warnings: trauma, swearing, pining, angst?

Word Count: 4.8k

Author note: this is my first acotar fic! It was originally going to be a singular self indulgent azriel fic, but I can’t ever get to the point and I got too many ideas. Definitely not very canon with the timeline of series I think lol, just going to throw that out there. I’ve already rough drafted another chapter and thought I’d share the work on here. Feel free to share your thoughts! If you’d like to be added to a tag list let me know!

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

Internally, you teetered on the edge of a nervous breakdown, ready to tear yourself apart from within. Externally, you wore a mask of cold calculation, hoping no one could detect your distress and near senility. Earlier in the day, your cousin Mor had mentioned that her high lord and your other dear cousin, Rhysand, had matters to discuss with your high lord, Helion. The reason for their meeting was of no concern to Mor to bother filling you in.

Your heart thumped against your chest, unsure of what to expect. It had been over fifty years since the Day Court and Night Court had engaged in official business since the end of Amarantha's reign of terror. You had seen Rhysand during the time under the mountain, where you spent nearly half a century with him until Feyre saved Prythian. Still holding visits with him after to report to him along with Mor, thanks to her frequent visits to Helion. However, the rest of the court, especially those you hadn't met since after Amarantha and Hybern, remained a mystery, with only Mor's updates for context.

Following your time under the mountain, you chose to reside in the Day Court under Helion's rule as an emissary between the two Solar Courts. It served as a means to shield yourself from feeling too deeply, allowing you to focus on healing from the traumatic events you endured during those fifty years. There were other matters you had yet to confront and come to terms with, voluntarily choosing to ignore them. By hiding away and conducting your business mainly with Mor and Rhys, you could maintain a sense of avoidance of your once home.

Now, in the dining hall of the palace where Helion and his inner court resided—including yourself—you found yourself on edge. Regardless of the pressing matters at hand, your high lord insisted on hosting a dinner for his court and other high fae to publicly display the alliance between the Night Court and the Day Court. Standing next to Helion's chair in the center of the room, you observed the lively chatter among the gathered individuals.

Your hands were clasped tightly in front of you, nervously inspecting your gown for nonexistent dirt, attempting to conceal your jitters. The gown itself could remind anyone of the place you resided and wanted to consider your new home. It was an off-the-shoulder nude gown with gossamer sleeves cascading around your arms. The bodice, nearly transparent, accentuated your bust, adorned with soft gold crystals intricately arranged over your body. The long skirts consisted of layers of gossamer, featuring two long slits up the front that revealed your legs. You appeared ethereal and angelic.

"You seem on edge," Helion called out to you, pulling you out of your internal thoughts. Your eyes scanned the room, observing every movement, before turning your attention to the main entrance. He gently traced his finger beneath the dainty black diamond bracelet adorning your wrist, bringing your attention back. This bracelet, along with matching pieces around your neck and ears, showed your affiliation with the visiting court. You wore them out of respect for your older cousins, never daring to show your true affection openly—a facade to conceal your true self. You knew they would appreciate it if they noticed.

"The Night Court was your home, was it not?" He questioned, his tone casual, as he glanced over his shoulder at the other members of the inner court to make sure they weren’t listening. Adjusting his shirt cuffs to his well-matched button-down very similar color to yours, he exuded regality from head to toe.

You mumbled stoically, "Was." Clearing your throat tentatively, your eyes returned to the main doors. "This is my home now, serving under your rule. I can't afford to be anything but cautious when the Night Court wishes to discuss an unknown matter."

You didn’t miss the way his eyes rolled. "Always playing this game, aren't you?" Helion scolded playfully. “There's no need to keep up the act. Rhys's actions beneath the mountain spoke volumes for our court."

You thought to yourself, 'But my actions don't, and I'd rather keep it that way.' Aloud, you replied smoothly, "One can't appear too soft when the Night Court steps through that door." The lie slipped easily from your lips.

"Are we referring to the whole court now or the spymaster we both have eyes for?" Helion hummed, reclining slightly in his chair as he took a sip of fae wine from his chalice-like glass. Damn him.

"I have no eyes for any man, particularly not a brute Illyrian man. And especially not one I've been watching wrestle with my cousin since we were young children," you retorted, feeling a surge of unease and clenching your jaw at the assumption.

"That's a match I would give up all my powers to witness," the handsome, dark-skinned lord purred, his words aimed at you.

You wanted to snap at him, your patience wearing thin at the mere mention of the tall Illyrian warrior. However, you managed to keep your composure in check. "It's hardly a match; Rhys won every time."

As if on cue, you felt the energy of several individuals entering the palace. Rhysand always loved a dramatic entrance. "Excellent, our guests have arrived," you murmured, straightening your shoulders as best as you could.

Helion followed suit, sitting more upright in his chair at the center of the hall. The rest of the inner court took their positions standing.

The sentries opened the doors for the guests. Morrigan was the first to enter, her golden hair elegantly curled, and she delightedly took you in before blinking a few times, returning to her sultry expression. Her red gown fitted her perfectly: a strapless piece that flowed around her as she walked. Following her was a sight you hadn't expected since hearing the gossip from Mor—Lucien Vanserra, adorned in deep autumnal colors that complemented his complexion and long, tidy red hair. He was an old confidant of yours when you had stayed in the spring court. You couldn't help but find it amusing, but you maintained a composed demeanor, concealing your bemusement at how out of place in the night court he seemed.

After Lucien came two beautiful high fae women. The younger one on the left wore a flowing champagne pink gown that accentuated her slim waist and showcased her porcelain fair skin. Her light brown hair was adorned with crystals and flowers, and she wore dainty opal teardrop earrings that complimented her brown eyes. On the right stood another woman in a form-fitting navy dress that subtly shimmered with every movement. The gown highlighted her curves and bust, while a sapphire-like sciphon necklace adorned her neck. Her darker brown hair was elegantly pinned up with a silver circlet. These must have been the High Lady's sisters, Elain and Nesta, whom you had heard so much about. Nesta's eyes had a hint of danger and coldness, while Elain's were filled with awe as they observed the dining hall.

Cassian followed the two women, and you discreetly coughed to suppress a snort. He appeared cleaned up, wearing a navy tunic and dark linen pants, with his hair slicked back and neatly tied. This was a different version of him from the rugged general you were accustomed to, not dressed in his usual fighting leathers to a formal affair. His siphons were cleverly disguised as jewelry pieces, and he had politely tucked back his larger wings. He seemed out of place as much as Lucien, but his mischievous eyes locked with yours, indicating he might have had similar thoughts about you.

Before you could even see her, you sensed Amren's piercing gaze from behind Cassian's towering figure. Her glowing silver eyes held an inscrutable expression, and her lips formed a slight grimace. She wore her usual grey color in a slip gown that elegantly draped down in the front. Though not dressed as extravagantly as the others, her presence demanded attention. A touch of red lipstick and a slightly tousled hairstyle were enough to enhance her beauty. You could see the rest of Helion’s inner court murmur from your peripheral, the usual whispers about the millennia’s old creature stalking towards them.

Rhysand made his entrance with the high lady from beside him, exuding confidence and power. He wore his customary dark attire that accentuated his commanding presence. His violet eyes locked with yours for a fleeting moment before he turned his attention to Helion. Feyre held her head high, a diadem hanging on the crown of her head, and her hair half up half down in loose waves. Her dress off the shoulder shone in sapphire crystals making it look like stars had been entwined on the gown. She was gorgeous as a mortal even when she was malnourished when you saw her under the mountain, but as a high fae she was even more devastating.

Last of the group, you spotted Azriel, his shadows swirling subtly around him, and your breath caught in your throat. His shadows slinked up his dark tunic clad shoulder seeming to whisper in his ear. He looked over at you making eye contact discreetly. His features were hard but something unreadable in his eyes as he observed you. You didn’t miss the slight bob of his throat as he looked quickly away to a distant corner in the room acting stoic. His hair was pushed back showing his sharp jawline, and you could see his tattoos peeking out his shirt. His silent and brooding presence always managed to unnerve you, unable to get a good read on what could’ve been going through his head. You refused to let your guard down, not wanting to think about the shadowsinger that stood mere feet away. This had been the first time you have seen each other in person since you were able to leave under the mountain.

The Night Court all stood in front of Helion, and he bowed his head in greeting. You did the same along with the rest of the inner court. The introductions began, and the atmosphere buzzed with anticipation. Helion gracefully welcomed his guests, exchanging pleasantries and acknowledging the significance of the meeting. You observed the interactions, keeping a blank face despite the tumultuous emotions swirling within you. It felt like you were looking into your old life from the outside watching the inner circle, and your heart ached for a second.

Eventually, it was time for you to step forward and join the introductions. As you approached Rhysand, his gaze never wavered from yours. His lips curved into a knowing smile, a silent acknowledgment of the past. You stood before him, your heart pounding, but your expression remained composed.

"High Lord Rhysand," you greeted him, keeping your tone neutral and titles formal. "It has been a while."

His voice was smooth as he responded, “Y/n, always a pleasure. Allow me to introduce my wife and High Lady, Feyre.”

You bowed respectfully to the High Lady. “I am in awe, Feyre Cursebreaker. What an honor to have you grace the Day Court with your presence.”

A smile graced her lips in response. “Thank you for the warm welcome. I have heard so much about you, Y/n.” She took your hands in hers, and you were taken aback by the warm informal gesture. Your gaze fell upon the intricate tattoo adorning her hand and forearm, and in that moment, your heart swelled with joy for your cousin, and you dared to steal a glance at Rhys. His eyes were already fixed on you, and you couldn’t help but notice the subtle hints of tenderness and anticipation shining within them. You were so happy for him.

The formalities continued, and you exchanged polite words with Lucien, Elain, and Nesta. You longed for a chance to sit down and talk with them, to hear about their experiences since being freed from the cauldron. Your gaze wandered momentarily to Lucien, who stood near Morrigan, his amber eyes briefly glancing in your direction. A flicker of recognition passed between you, an unspoken acknowledgment of shared history. You had both suffered under the rule of the Spring Court, and it was a trauma you preferred to keep buried for now. But you couldn’t deny that you treasured the moments the young emissary had kept you sane within the trauma.

You stood next to Helion along with another Day Court emissary as Rhys, Amren, and Helion discussed some political topics. Deep down, you yearned for a moment alone with the inner circle, away from the prying eyes and expectations. But for now, you had to focus on the diplomatic matters at hand and navigate the complexities of the gathering. As the conversations flowed around you, you remained attentive, gathering information and assessing the dynamics between the courts.

Throughout the evening, conversations flowed, alliances were strengthened, and unspoken words hung heavy in the air. You played your part, engaging in polite conversation and maintaining the facade of an emissary, all the while battling the internal storm raging within you. It was beginning to wear on you though. Watching from afar at how Mor mingled with Nesta and Cassian. The Illyrian man had his arm around the oldest Archeon sister as they nodded and chuckled at Mor, and you wanted to smile. You had never expected Cassian finding a mate before you, but here you were.

A lot has changed since you had left indeed, and the longing you felt came back.

“You’re not my prisoner, you know. Feel free to mingle,” Helion’s voice chimed from behind, breaking through your thoughts.

“Isn’t that a bit informal?” you responded, sipping your glass of wine.

He arched an eyebrow, feigning surprise. “To talk at a party?” He snatched your wine from your hand.

You turned to face him, reaching for your half-filled glass that he held teasingly away from you. “Ah, don’t you think it’s a bit informal for an emissary to get drunk?” He added a playful spark in his eyes.

“To drink at a party?” You volleyed back, grinning mischievously as you continued your playful struggle for the glass.

“Why don’t you practice the talking part with Rhysand?” Helion suggested, his eyes glinting with amusement. “It seems like he’s eager to have a word with his dear cousin.” He gestured subtly behind you, and amidst the revelry and banter, Rhysand and Feyre made their way toward you both. However, before you could react, your gaze caught Azriel’s intense hazel eyes from their table behind the approaching couple, where he sat next to Elain. His massive wings appeared tense and uncomfortably confined by the chair. Elain chatted with him, but it seemed his attention was elsewhere, fixated on you. His shadows still whispered in his ear as one crept across the table.You resisted the urge to shudder, maintaining your composure, and quickly turned your attention back to Helion, whose grin remained firmly in place.

“Helion, may we borrow Y/n for a moment?” Rhysand inquired, one eyebrow raised, his gaze flickering between you and Helion.

Helion practically pushed you into Feyre’s arms. “Go ahead, I was just informing her that she’s free from her duties until later!” he announced with a mischievous glint in his eyes. The tips of your ears burned with embarrassment as you realized his intent to encourage your mingling.

“Thank you, My Lord,” you replied, bowing your head with a touch of sarcasm. Rhysand extended his arm, and you looped yours through it, allowing him to guide you towards their table. A nervous gulp betrayed your anticipation.

Feyre looked at you with concern. “Are you alright?” she asked, her tone gentle and caring.

“May we speak on the balcony?” you requested, your voice filled with meekness.

“Of course, it’s getting a bit warm in here,” Rhysand agreed, leading the three of you towards the balcony bathed in soft faelight.

You all leaned casually against the balcony railing, observing the lively feast taking place inside.

"How's the Day Court treating you?" he asked in a relaxed tone, as if to put you at ease. Away from prying eyes, you felt your shoulders relax. It felt good to be with your cousin where you both didn’t have to wear a mask.

"Well," you replied, "the Day Court doesn't quite compare to the beauty of the Night Court, but the days are undeniably bright." You struggled to find a suitable comparison for the Day Court's allure to the Night Court.

Rhys and Feyre almost snorted out their wine, their amusement evident. "I wonder why," Rhys sarcastically murmured.

Choosing to ignore your cousin's comment, you continued, "I've been making progress translating some texts for the court, and delving into a lot of reading.”

It seemed as though the High Lord and Lady expected to hear more and urged you to continue, but they realized you had nothing more to share.

Rhys cleared his throat. "Wow, that sounds like quite a lot," he remarked. You could tell he wanted to throw a snide remark, but a warning look from his mate kept him at bay. Where was Feyre centuries ago when you always found to be the butt of your cousin's jokes?

You shrugged. "Keeps me distracted." From your vantage point, you had a perfect view of the inner circle's table. Mor, Amren, Azriel, Lucien, Nesta, and Cassian were all seated there, drinking and picking at their food. Helion even made sure Amren had a chalice of beast's blood. You missed being a part of that group, laughing and sharing moments with them. The only person in the Day Court you truly felt comfortable with was Helion, and even that remained behind closed doors.

"Come home," the words made your shoulders tense. It wasn't your cousin who had spoken, but Feyre. You looked at her, finding understanding in her eyes, as if she knew what you were going through.

Your gaze wandered back to the inner circle. Your eyes fell on Azriel, who was listening with a ghost of a smile on his lips, as Cassian animatedly spoke, his wings flaring about and nearly knocking over Lucien's wine glass. The group tried to hide their laughter while Amren scolded them. Azriel's shadows discreetly moved the glass out of Cassian's wingspan, hiding his amusement.

"They miss you," Rhys genuinely expressed. "I miss you, and even the House misses you." Tears welled up, tightening your throat. "He won’t say it out loud, but he misses you too."

You didn't need to be told who he was. You knew.

"I didn't even say goodbye," you spoke with a heavy heart, guilt washing over you.

"That was over fifty years ago, Y/n," Rhys reminded you gently.

He placed a comforting hand on your shoulder. "We have texts for you to translate if it’s a means to keep you busy, we could even have you train with Madja. Want an apartment on the opposite side of town from the House of Wind? Consider it done. Desire a cottage in the middle of nowhere? It's yours. Just please, stop running away," Rhys pleaded.

You felt tears welling up, but you willed them away. "I... I just can't leave," you stammered. You could feel your heart torn.

"You can," Feyre said sympathetically, holding your hands. "Helion asked us to come and talk to you."

"We won't force you, but he mentioned that you've changed in the last few years," Rhys added. Feyre's grip on your hands tightened.

"Please talk to them maybe and think about it?" she requested. You knew she meant the inner circle.

Biting your lip, you contemplated. "I'll find you in a bit. I need some time alone."

With a nod, Rhysand and Feyre understood your need for solitude. They exchanged a brief glance before making their way back inside, leaving you alone on the balcony.

Leaning against the railing, you let the cool evening breeze brush against your skin, smell of wildflower and honey in the air, the quietness of the moment allowing your thoughts to swirl. Images of your past, the friendships you had forged and the bonds you had left behind, filled your mind. The longing in your heart grew stronger with each passing second your family stood in the same room as you. A longing you pushed deep down when you were still under the mountain, uncertain of seeing your loved ones again.

Closing your eyes, you took a deep breath, trying to not let tears slip. It was true that you had changed over the years, that the weight of your experiences had shaped you into someone different. But running away had only prolonged the pain, and you knew it was time to confront it. If your cousins had endured the pain, you were sure you could too.

Slowly, you pushed yourself away from the railing, determination igniting within you. You couldn't stay on the sidelines any longer. The inner circle had always been your family, even if circumstances had driven you apart. And now, as you stood on the cusp of a decision, you realized that it was time to bridge that gap.

Stepping back inside, you navigated through the crowd, searching for the familiar faces you had missed dearly. You found them at their table, still engaged in their playful banter, laughter filling the air. Taking a deep breath, you approached, your footsteps faltering only slightly.

As you reached the table, a hush fell over the group, their gazes turning towards you. Azriel's eyes locked with yours, and the shadows around him seemed to ripple, as though mirroring the tumultuous emotions within you.

"Can I join you?" you asked softly, your voice carrying a blend of trepidation and hope.

The response was immediate and overwhelming. Cassian's boisterous laughter echoed as he clapped you on the back, nearly knocking the breath out of you. Nesta's sharp gaze softened for a brief moment, Elain offered a warm but wary smile, and Lucien's amber eyes held surprise. Morrigan's voice was a welcoming melody as she pulled out a chair for you, and Amren, in her own enigmatic way, nodded approvingly.

Taking your seat among them, you couldn't help but feel a sense of homecoming. And as you settled into the comfort of their presence, you could feel your frozen heart just dethaw slightly.

“Y/n, I knew you were always shy, but around us?” Mor teased you endearingly, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “You look so beautiful tonight!” She gushed, her words filled with genuine admiration as she played with a strand of your hair. “The dress would be better in a darker color though.” She whispered the last part so only you and the inner circle could hear, her voice laced with a conspiratorial tone.

“The gown color does wash you out,” Amren chimed in, her bored expression not fully hiding a hint of amusement.

A laugh bubbled out of your chest, surprising even yourself. "Not the first thing I thought I would hear from you in years," you quipped, a playful smile tugging at your lips. Amren raise her glass to you before taking a sip of the thick liquid in the cup.

“Better than that raggedy spring court piece you came back in, though," Rhysand interjected, his voice filled with playful banter as he and Feyre settled into the extra seats at the table. The original inner circle chuckled at the memory.

Despite that being one of the worst days of your life, you couldn't help but smile too. The shared laughter brought a warmth to the air, softening the edges of past wounds.

“You should’ve seen the dress I came to the Night Court in," Feyre chimed in, her eyes twinkling with mischief.

“Another monstrosity by Ianthe," Lucien muttered into his glass before taking a sip, his voice tinged with a touch of disdain. Your eyes widened at the snide comment, but the group erupted into laughter, momentarily forgetting the weight of your burdens.

As the night wore on, Helion raised his glass, signaling a toast to the alliance between the two courts. The hall fell silent, and you raised your glass as well, a faint smile playing at the corner of your lips. The toast created a joyous noise as everyone in attendance drank, and the music started playing. Mor instantly beamed and grabbed Feyre’s hand, followed by Elain, leading them to the dance floor. Rhysand and Lucien joined them, their steps filled with a carefree grace. Cassian took Nesta’s hand, and they followed suit. Amren excused herself to converse with the emissary from the Day Court with a request of Azriel to accompany her.

You turned to Mor, insisting you would join them shortly, as you wished to find Helion. She nodded understandingly, giving you a knowing smile as she disappeared into the swirling crowd. You made your way toward Helion, feeling the warmth of the night and the drinks starting to loosen your tongue and heart.

“Do you wish to get rid of me so easily?” you feigned offense, walking up to his side. The merriment of the evening had given you a newfound boldness. Your body hadn’t felt this light in ages. Your gaze met his, and a flicker of understanding passed between you.

Helion shook his head, a gentle smile gracing his features. “No, darling, never. I just think your heart belongs somewhere else.” His words were filled with gentle encouragement. He patted the arm of his chair, offering you a seat upon the rest. With an eye roll and a smile, you accepted, settling into the plush chair arm.

"Your presence is lovely, your duty is commendable, but I couldn't sit here watching you turn to stone any longer," Helion continued, his voice filled with genuine concern. His finger absentmindedly found the wrist under your bracelet, his touch a feather-light brush against your skin. A wave of warmth washed over you, and the faint scent of wildflowers drifted through the air.

"Besides, maybe it's time you face a certain Illyrian man," he whispered discreetly, his words carrying a hint of suggestion.

You looked at him, confusion swirling within you. His eyes subtly glanced over to the corner, and you followed his gaze. Azriel stood behind Amren, his intense gaze fixed on Helion and you. His jaw was clenched, and his wings were taut with tension, as if holding back an impending storm. The sight of him sent a jolt of both excitement and apprehension through your veins.

"I can't ignore those ravenous stares, knowing he wants to rip me to shreds, and not in the way I like," he added, teasingly toying with your bracelet as if oblivious to Azriel's presence. The Day Court High Lord knew exactly what he was doing it seemed. Azriel couldn’t have been glaring at Helion; it had to be you. Memories of your past argument with Azriel flashed through your mind, the intensity of the argument still fresh. You had both nearly destroyed each other. You hadn’t ever heard you two speak so many volatile and vulgar things— especially at each other.

"I could never forgive him for what he said," you sighed. "What's even worse is that I can't forgive myself for what I did, not only to him, but to my family. I feel responsible for my ex-husband's actions towards them." You admitted, realizing that you had never spoken those words aloud before.

Beside you, the lord sucked his teeth in retort. "You can't blame yourself for what your father put you through by selling you to that pretty little beast." He sat up straighter and looked at you earnestly. "Nobody blames you, Y/n." You found yourself unabashedly staring back at Azriel as he was still looking at the interaction between you and the high lord.

“We all carry burdens from our past, but we mustn't let them define our future," he said gently. "You were caught in a web spun by others, but you have the strength to break free. It's time to forgive yourself and embrace the healing you deserve."

You nodded nimbly, biting your lip in contemplation. You would always hold gratitude for Helion. His kindness you’ve experienced for the last several years was more than what you deserved and needed, but he still provided it. If you returned to the night court you wouldn’t have known where you stood in the court. What your rank would be, what your friends thought of you, and where to even pick back up in your life. You just knew you haven’t felt this alive in awhile, and you craved the feeling.

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

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Let me know your thoughts, and feel free to like and reblog! I might change the title but that’s tbd.

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