#but then why am I surprised by that when you have never been a forgiving person
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Sundown: Chapter 7
WC: 3,1K
Relationship: SwissAlps
Tags: AU; Cowboy!Swiss x Barmaid!Mountain,Transfeminine Mountain, Angst, Crying, Alcohol, Makeup, Backstory, Grief
He can blame his father for that, but not for his choices later on.
That’s all on him, hurting Mounty is all on him.
Notes: I’m not very happy with how this chapter turned out, but the idea was good lmao hope you enjoy :3 Divider by the lovely @ghuleh-recs <3 Also happy Pride Month everyone!!!
Playlist here. / Chapter 1 here or on AO3.
Read chapter 7 under the cut or on AO3.
Swiss slept in the stables with Monty. Curled up and shaking through the cold night on a falling-apart cube of hay.
As fragile as he is, if not less.
He thinks about the irony, looks back at his life and wonders where the fuck he went wrong. He’s well aware, of course, but when he looks far back, ultimately he didn’t put himself on that road on his own. Albeit, he can blame his father for that, but not for his choices later on.
That’s all on him, hurting Mounty is all on him.
It doesn’t matter now, anyway, he already fucked up the best thing that has ever happened to him.
The man gets up, only imagining how pitifully he looks—though there’s no pity he deserves—and turns for Monty’s tack. He’s getting the hell out of there as soon as his chick is ready. Mere minutes later she is and Swiss walks her out of the stable.
“Once again it’s gonna be just the two of us, girlie,” he sighs, rubbing Monty’s nose as she nudges it into his chest. She understands.
Swiss’ jaw is clenched tight and his eyes still sting and he’s about to hop on and walk away from the best few months of his life like it was nothing when he hears footsteps on the soft ground behind him, followed by a familiar voice.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Swiss flinches, not turning to the other.
“Dew, you don’t unders–”
“I do,” Dewdrop interrupts him. “I know everything, Mounty spent the night at our place.”
Swiss looks over his shoulder despite his voice wavering and hot tears threatening to fall already. “You should be chasing me out of here with a pitchfork,” he jokes, but there’s no real humor in it.
“And yet I asked what the fuck do you think you’re doing,” the other man repeats, coming closer. He puts a hand on Monty’s neck to pet her; she leans into it and it’s as if both Dewdrop and the mare want to show the cowboy he should stay.
“What else can I do?” He shrugs, still not looking Dewdrop in the eye. “I messed up.”
“Yeah, you did. Big time,” he points out, “but the Shadow never sounded like a coward.”
Silence falls for a moment. Swiss takes a shaky breath and when he speaks again it’s barely audible, “I ain’t him, Dew. A coward is all I am.”
The other shakes his head. “You can’t leave her. She loves you.”
“And I love her, more than life itself,” Swiss claims and both of them know he’s not exaggerating. He’s never loved anything or anyone as much as he loves Mounty. She’s everything he’s not, she’s the best thing that ever happened to humanity, she erases all of it’s faults. She’s perfect and he’s…far from that. “I’m doing all of you a favor, I can’t–I don’t deserve her.”
“It’s not your decision.” Dewdrop argues. Swiss is surprised by his persistence, even though he knows the man is stubborn and more sharp-witted and wiser than he lets on. “She’ll forgive you, it’s how she is, you just have to be patient. Don’t run away, it’ll hurt her even more.”
“She’s scared of me.”
“Yeah, because you murdered more people than this town even has!” he bites back, nearly laughing, and Swiss hurts. Although he deserves it, he supposes. “I’m scared of you, too.”
Swiss’ breath hitches and he lets it back out with a dry sob, “Then why the hell are you trying to stop me?”
Dewdrop throws his arms up, nearly spooking Monty. “Because none of that matters! You said that the Shadow is not the true you and you’ve been here for long enough for me to believe that. Get rid of him once and for all and everything will be alright. Mounty will forgive you and forget about the fear.”
There’s nothing else Swiss can say. He wants to believe Dewdrop’s right, he needs him to be right if he is to stay, but he knows he’ll fuck it up all over again if he does. That’s just what he does.
Heartbreak and grief follow him wherever he goes, why would Sundown be any different?
“Come on, let’s get you a drink,” Dewdrop sighs, taking Swiss’ arm. His eyes widen, he’s not ready to see Mounty just yet, it’s too– “Relax, she ain't there now.”
He doesn’t say anything, but he lets the other walk him to the saloon, leaving tacked-up Monty behind. She looks rather pleased with the outcome, going back to her hay right away.
Dewdrop lets Swiss and himself in from the back and goes to make him a drink, leaving the cowboy in the storage. His head is throbbing and he really does need a drink, but he doubts whatever Dewdrop is pouring is going to be enough.
Before he realizes what he's doing he grabs an unopened bottle of whiskey off a shelf and shoves it under his shirt.
Just then Dewdrop comes back and hands him a glass that Swiss downs in two gulps. It burns his throat and belly but it's not enough.
Still, he thanks the other, “I'm gonna go now, I'll…I'll try to bring myself to talk to Mounty tomorrow.”
“You better.” With that Dewdrop leaves and Swiss heads back to the stable. Maybe he'll be warmer later, when the night comes, thanks to the alcohol. He takes the tack off Monty and settles himself on that same cube of hay that he slept on.
He sighs at how pathetic he is as he opens the bottle and glues his lips to it, reveling in the bitter taste and the acidic burn going down his throat.
A few hours later he notices he's moved. Or was moved.
Where? He doesn't really know but it's harder under his ass than the hay. He hums an off-key tune under his breath, rolling his head from one side to the other against a piece of wood. Is it a wall?
He zones out with an empty mind and he giggles at the foggy void taking over his brain. He has no idea how long he's been there and even where he is or what he's doing. It's dark but it might just be that his eyes are closed.
“Swiss? What the hell are you doing?” someone asks. The man tries to blink but his eyes are closed so he just squeezes them tighter for a moment before he manages to actually open them. His face feels numb as he tries to smile.
Swiss wonders how that beautiful girl knows his name.
“I’m–nevermind, but I do know your name.” Did he say that out loud? “Do you know my name?”
“Hmpf…” he huffs, trying to open his mouth and actually say what he wants to, ”you're ver’pretty bu–but I can't.”
“Can't what?” the girl asks, standing over him with her hands on her hips.
Mounty doubts Swiss can register the emotions on her face if he can't even recognize her, but she tries to mask them anyway. She's worried, she didn't expect to see Swiss tonight, much less in such a state. She hasn't made peace with all of what happened yet, but she still loves him and cares about him.
“There’s a girl, I–” Swiss hiccups, “I don't think she likes me anymore but–but I'm in love with her, y’know? So I…I can't do anything w’you.”
“That's fine.” Mounty crouches down, smiling, despite everything, at Swiss' ramble. He's drunk out of his mind and doesn’t realize it's her before him, but he is still loyal. “I just wanted to make sure you're okay over here, kind sir.”
“I ain’t a sir,” he giggles. “‘m a mess.”
“Respectfully, you have a point,” the barmaid agrees. She comes closer and reaches out to grab Swiss’ hand, trying to not shudder at the feeling of his skin on hers again, even though it's been barely twenty four hours since everything went down. “Which is why you can't stay here, come on, let's get you up.”
“No, I can't go w’you, my–my girl’s gonna be angry,” Swiss slurs in protest, shaking his head clumsily.
“Yeah?” Mounty can't help but giggle now, too. “I think your girl is gonna be more angry if you freeze to death out here.”
“Hmmm…but–but you can't touch me, ‘cause ‘m hers, o–okay?”
“Okay, I promise to not touch you anywhere weird,” Mounty grabs his other hand and tries to haul him up. It works as well as it can with Swiss in such a state, with him stumbling into her arms once he's up, “but I think I have to help you walk up the stairs, don't I?”
“Uh…p–pos–billy,” he hiccups again, but nods, grinning up at the girl. His breath stinks, but Mounty doesn't really mind. She is a barmaid after all, it's not the first drunk man she's dealing with. It is her man, though, this time.
She all but hangs him over her shoulder and walks into the saloon. The stairs are a challenge, but neither of them falls down, so Mounty considers it a success when she drops Swiss onto a bed in one of the guest rooms. She’s not ready to put him back in hers, not before they have a proper talk about everything. She knows she is going to forgive him, especially after what Dewdrop told her earlier, but they have to talk first.
Still, there’s a little voice in the back of Mounty’s head telling her to milk more out of Swiss. “Tell me about your girl, won't ya?”
“Oh, oh, she's…she's s’pretty, y’know? No offense t’you, but she’s the prettiest girl ever,” the man rambles, gesturing wildly. His eyes are wide and glassy—not only because of alcohol—and his grin is as wide and bright as ever. “She's an angel! She’s kind and–and lovely…and a–also she has nice…very nice boobies.”
“Huh.” Mounty puts a hand over her mouth so as not to snort. Of course he had to mention her tits. “She sounds amazing.”
“She is…” Swiss sighs dreamily, freezing with a goofy smile as he—most likely—gets lost in memories from not so long ago.
“Anyway, it’s way past bedtime for you, kind sir,” she snaps him out of it when she notices his eyes start to close on their own. “I think your girl would agree.”
“Mhmmm,” he hums in acknowledgement. “She’s always tellin’ me to go to bed when I don't wanna.”
“Sounds like she’s smart, too.” Mounty pushes him on the shoulder and he falls back like a ragdoll, flat on the bed.
“Mmm, the smartest,” Swiss mumbles, wiggling on the bed in something that looks like a rather poor attempt at getting comfortable. The barmaid shakes her head and throws a blanket over him.
And resists the urge to bend down and kiss him.
Swiss blinks and suddenly it’s morning.
His head is pounding and someone knocks on the door again and it doesn’t help it—even though it’s rather quiet. He realizes that the knocking is what woke him up. He tries to roll over and maybe get up to get the door but a wave of dizziness washes over him so he resolves to calling out, “Come in.”
His heart skips a beat when he sees Mounty in the door. Only now he realizes that he’s in one of the saloon rooms, but how he ended up there is a mystery. Though he supposes it might have something to with that bottle of whiskey he snatched yesterday.
Fuck.
“Good morning,” Mounty says, leaning against the doorframe. Swiss’ stomach turns and it’s not his hangover’ fault. “How are you feeling?”
“I’ve had way too much,” he mumbles. “Who brought me in here?”
“I did.” The barmaid shrugs and the corner of her mouth twitches upwards at Swiss’ grimace. “Found you half-conscious on my doorstep last night. Don’t remember much, do you?”
“Not really,” the cowboy admits. He sits up to lean against the wall and watches as Mounty walks inside and shuts the door behind her. She has a little basket hanging off of her arm and Swiss notices there’s faint steam coming from it.
“I can imagine. Here,” she hands him the basket, “from Rain.”
The man groans as the smell finally reaches him; freshly fried sausage with a slice of buttered bread and a glass of water.
“Thank you. Not only for this, for…everything.” Swiss takes a sip of water first, and even though he is not a fan of such a simple drink, his dehydration makes it taste heavenly. “Can we talk?”
Mounty doesn’t reply, but she nods before sitting on the edge of an empty bed across the bed. The man takes a bite out of his breakfast and it is delicious—as anything made by Rain—but there’s a certain bitterness to it at the distance that the other has put between them. He couldn’t expect anything less, but it aches nonetheless.
“Let’s start with apologies. I shouldn’t have hid who I was. We wouldn’t have gotten where we did if I had been honest, but I should’ve been, you didn’t deserve getting lied to. All I wanted was to get out of that life once and for all. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, sweetheart. You have no idea how much I regret everything.”
Mounty remains silent, but her eyes are on Swiss. Her presence alone is more than he could’ve wished for after everything. He swallows a few more bites of the food she brought and washes it down with more water before he dares to continue.
“Can I…will you let me explain everything?” he asks once the breakfast is gone. Swiss pulls his knees up and curls up as much as he can under a scratchy blanket; he tries not to think about how Mounty must’ve pulled it over him yesterday. “Can I tell you my story? I don’t want it to be an excuse, nothing can excuse what I did, but I just…I need you to know. Will you let me tell you?”
The barmaid still doesn’t speak, but her gaze is soft and somewhat curious, as if she’s trying to be angry with him—mad, even—but can’t bring herself to hate him and is looking for a reason to forgive him, whether it’s there or not.
Swiss doesn’t deserve her in the slightest.
The problem, though, is that his lie—or rather avoiding the truth—is, after all, the least serious of his crimes. He's a murderer and even if Mounty can forgive his dishonesty, he can't imagine she'd be willing to look past all of his sins.
“I have…had a sister. Our dad was famous for getting into all kinds of trouble and one day he got himself killed and my sister—Sunny—kidnapped,” he pauses to take a deep, shuddering breath. He hasn’t uttered her name since the day he buried her. He wipes a tear from the corner of his eye, threatening to fall, before he continues. “I had nothing, there was nothing I could’ve done to get her back, but I went there and begged, offered my life in exchange for hers. They…those men decided that they’ll let her go when I pay off our father’s debt by doing all their dirty work for a while. That’s how the Shadow came to be.”
“How did…what happened to her?” Swiss flinches at Mounty’s voice. She sounds like Sunshine did, a bit; something he has noticed that first night down by the bar and tried so hard to ignore all these months.
“I did all they wanted, all their bidding, everything. I became a monster, a soulless–” he says, barely above a whisper. “I should’ve known it seemed too easy, that they weren’t men of their word.”
He drops his head against his knees, still not fully able to say…it out loud. Saying something, letting it sound, makes things real and Swiss is far away from accepting the reality in which she’s not with him.
It’s barely audible when he does say it, “They killed her the moment they didn’t need me anymore.”
“Swiss, baby, I’m–” Mounty gasps. “I’m so, so sorry. Nobody should have to go through anything like that.”
“I killed all of them that night,” the man chuckles pitifully, sniffling wetly as he rubs his eyes against the blanket. “That’s why nobody heard of me after that, because there was no Shadow anymore, he died with his masters. I should’ve done that earlier, I should’ve fought and saved her, I–I failed her, Momo.”
The barmaid is speechless. She…Swiss shouldn’t have lied to her, but she understands—though not really, she’s never gone through something as awful as the man before her, but she can understand how all he wanted was…out.
“I don’t–I don’t want you to forgive me and take me back with open arms,” the cowboy cries quietly, “it's just that…what I need is for you to–to understand. Please, sweetheart, just tell me you understand why I did what I did.”
“I do, darling,” Mounty states, loud and clear, and Swiss sobs with relief, choking on air. “But I will–I am taking you back with open arms. You're mine and I'm yours, Swiss.”
She gets up and walks over to the other bed—with her arms open, indeed. She’s not much bigger than the cowboy, but in that moment he’s tiny, as fragile as a man can be. Mounty wraps her arms around him and pulls him close, lets him sob into her chest.
“Seeing her body…seeing her, my baby sister, and having to bury her, I–I don’t… Believe me, sweetheart, I have paid for all I’ve done t–tenfold.”
“C’mere, lay down,” Mounty whispers as she strokes Swiss’ arm with all the gentleness in the world, not knowing any words that could fill the gaping hole in his heart. He keeps quiet, but obeys, resting his head on the barmaid’s shoulder. She brings them both down and tightens her arms around him, trying to comfort that broken, broken man as much as she can. She doesn’t feel like it’s enough and Swiss doesn’t have words to tell her that it’s more than enough and way more than he deserves.
What he can tell her, though, is words that he’s never going to be too overwhelmed, exhausted or hungover to say.
“I love you, girl.”
Swiss is afraid that he’s not going to hear it back ever again, but Mounty smiles and mutters, “I love you, too, cowboy.”
Somehow, hope fills him. Hope that they’re going to be okay.
He’s surprised to find himself believing it.
#hypnone writes#the band ghost#nameless ghouls#swiss ghoul#mountain ghoul#swissalps#swissalps' sundown
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Why can’t people see what I see
#9 years is a long time and you said yourself it’s been a while since you saw each other.#no one owes anyone anything of course but this feels like a boundary set too far#i know I’m close to the situation#people treat me like I’m some sort of victim when the truth is#I’ve never felt more sure in my life that this relationship is right for me#I don’t feel like I’m compromising on my wants#I feel understood in ways I cannot articulate#why can’t people see the way things truly are#I don’t know what it is. I just know he sometimes tries too hard because he’s afraid everyone around him hates him#it felt wrong telling him for you#it felt like actually you should tel him yourself. why am I enforcing boundaries that you should set with someone directly#fear of conflict is one thing but making me do your dirty work is another#he’s a good person. it just comes across like you can’t forgive him#but then why am I surprised by that when you have never been a forgiving person#you write people out of your life before you tell them there’s a problem.#you set lines in the sand and never cross them before talking to people with the honesty we all deserve.#now it feels like I’m looking over my shoulder and I’m on the fucking Truman show#like ok. you have been holding a grudge for 6#3#and 8 years#now those are bigger in your head than his personhood is
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something really short cause i have nothing else. könig nsfw
just imagine a situation where you’re forced to sit on könig’s lap because there’s less room than needed on the small military aircraft due to a field emergency, so you opt for his space because he’s the closest person to you out of the bunch and not to mention the largest, kindest, most comfortable looking one. he’s so hesitant at first but it’s all kept internal because he could never say no to you, let alone stand to watch you on another man’s lap for the next two hours. he begins to question if he prioritized the correct things, however, when he ultimately fails at suppressing his hard-on after just barely managing for the first half hour of the flight.
you feel his dick practically digging into your ass through the multiple layers of cargo pants, and he knows his prayers for discretion have gone unanswered when you adjust your hips against his lap. the feel of it surprises you—you want to laugh, why now?—but the entire concept of it does not come as a shock; it only nourishes the given cockiness in you. you’d have to be a blind mutt not to notice the way he looks at you, shying away when he thinks you’ve caught him staring. silly guy. the hood doesn’t hide all, könig.
“scheiße, du schweinehund,” he breathes defeatedly to himself, eyes squeezed shut in humility. he’s the only mutt here, really. he can’t imagine how pink his cheeks have gone, except for the fact that they feel like they’ve been repeatedly grazed by a blowtorch you hold. he musters up a straight voice, yet his words just barely break past a whisper; “…forgive me.” he grits his teeth and bites his tongue, “gott—i am not in the correct headspace right now, i-i am so sorry.”
you giggle that same laugh that had his knees threatening to buckle in on most days. “it’s okay, könig, really,” you tell him, so convincing and so sweet that he has no choice but to believe it to be true. still, he’s beyond mortified. you hum after a few seconds, “more than okay.” he sucks in a sharp breath. you don’t need to see him to know what sort of affect you’re having on him, arms crossed over your chest while his are unsteady and sweaty at his sides. he’s so awkward, it’s adorable.
like this, you can truly absorb all of him like you never could on an average day; he’s soft spoken off the field and with a deeper drawl, and far more reserved. that manly, post-mission musk of his, apparent through the close proximity, is only insanely attractive. and he’s just so. fucking. big. you lean further back against his frame, head resting on his broad shoulder, and you can feel his heart beating at his ribs against your upper back. with everyone else chatting amongst themselves or already deep into their sleep, you wouldn’t mind teasing him a bit.
“i actually think it’s really cute,” you add, with another slight of a giggle, of course. “and hot.” you bite and bite and he groans so lowly every time, something almost of a broken whimper, you’d say. you wiggle your hips a bit, not terribly noticeable to the outside world but he swears your every action comes with a bite of an aphrodisiac. you smirk and he hears it, right past the nonchalance in your voice; “and quite impressive, i’d say.”
you hear a whine die in his throat—it’s fucking whorish, and needy—along with another swear, and in an instant, you’ve made up your mind to take him out of the public eye once you land and show him just how impressive he really is.
#cod mw2#könig#könig x reader#könig x fem reader#könig x female reader#könig smut#könig mw2#könig cod
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Hello how have u been I was wondering if I can request a slightly part 2 of the reader making the overblot squad cute little plushies so wha if the reader makes the plushies clothing and accessories like for vil’s plushie little fake makeup and same clothing he has sorry if my English is bad I’m still learning
SUMMARY: You decide to make the Overblot Squad’s plushies clothes! How do they react?
WARNINGS: None that I am aware of!
COMMENTS: Oh my GOSH this is such a cute idea!! And no worries Anon, your English is just fine :D I hope you enjoy it!!
Part one - Prefect making the Overblot Squad plushies of their respective Seven member - can be found here. Part three - their reactions when the plushies are stolen - can be found here.
You made his plushie some… clothes? He didn’t even know you could remove her current ones! He would never think to try something so scandalous on his own! Especially not with a plushy of the Queen of Hearts!! Ah, wait- he meant no disrespect! He just meant that he wouldn’t- uh… He’s just gonna stop talking now.
You have to show him how to change his plushy’s clothes – he refuses to figure it out on his own in case someone walks in – but once you show him it’s not like that, he’s more comfortable with it. He doesn’t change things around a lot – maybe whenever you make him a new one. He keeps them all safely in a box under his bed. Occasionally, he’ll take them out just to look at. Seeing them always makes him smile.
You decided to make the powerful, feared and mighty King of Beasts… a hat? And slippers? Hah, you got guts, Prefect. He’s gotta say, he respects it. Alright, he’ll indulge you. He’s slightly surprised at how small yet detailed the accessories are. There’s something slightly endearing about such small clothes… maybe that’s one of the reasons why people like children? Tch. Te can’t relate.
Nonetheless, it’s amusing to him what kind of accessories you think of. He’s also not the type to change up the doll’s outfit a whole lot, but he’ll stash them all around his room. Much like the toy, they all smell of you. It’s starting to annoy the other Beastmen. Ruggie’s strongly considering having an intervention.
Prefect… these are adorable! Are you sure you don’t want to sell these? Ah, r-right. Please forgive him for forgetting they were for-... for his eyes only. Please stop looking at him and let him regain his composure. He absolutely loves them! He hopes you know how much of a friend the doll has become to him. He’s starting to tear up, you’re so kind. Give him a minute.
Azul has designated different clothes for different purposes. Before bed, he puts his doll in her pajamas. When he wakes up, he selects her outfit for the day and changes her into it. He does this almost ritualistically every day. Floyd and Jade have teased him for it, but surprisingly, Azul doesn’t seem to mind.
Oh? You made his Sorcerer of the Sands doll some different outfits? Pft– that’s so cute. He didn’t mean to laugh at you – he’s delighted, really! He just… can’t believe that you’d spend precious free time doing something like that. Hey, come on, he’s not judging you or anything, but free time is precious, right? You should spend it more on doing what you want to do. Still, though, he loves the clothes - and finds your cute little pout adorable.
He definitely keeps them with the doll. Whenever you make him new ones, he’ll pick up the doll and change the outfit. Otherwise, he’ll only change them a couple times every so often. This has given him an idea though. Maybe you’d like a doll too? Then you could match. Although, Ramshackle dorm doesn’t really have a mascot… maybe he could make you a ghost? Or a plushie of Grim?
(Didn’t he say that spending ‘precious free time’ doing something like ‘that’ was wasted? Point it out to him and he’ll get flustered and walk off in a huff. He will return with a plush and an apology for you two days later. He enjoyed making it a lot.)
You made his doll clothes?! He’s trying not to squeal like a teenage girl. He didn’t know that his doll could change clothes!! Oh, prefect, he loves you so much. He’s going to ask you to make so many clothes, you better be prepared for what you’re getting into!
He, like Azul, changes the clothes all the time and will often just sit down for like an hour and change the doll into perfect outfits. As you could probably guess, Vil LOVES using the doll to try out new looks. Whenever he’s designing an outfit or a piece of clothing, he always asks you to make a small version for him to try out on the doll. This helps him to be able to practise styling them and getting an idea of how the finished piece would look.
His favourite kind of outfit to ask for, however, is anything that reminds you of fashion from your homeworld.
You made his marketable plushie some marketable clothes?? Oh my gosh. That’s adorable. It’s so small! Looks like those itty bitty cutey kitty clothes– AH– ahem. you didn’t hear that. He definitely wasn’t just having a total fanboy moment. no siree… do you think you could make him an outfit from his favourite anime? that’d be cool, he guesses.
He’s DEFINITELY gonna make the little guy cosplay his favourite characters. Maybe that’d improve his gacha roles even more? Oh he is 100% down to help too. Any clothes that require metallic details he is WELDING that stuff together. It’s so cute how invested he gets in this. Ortho loves seeing his brother get so passionate about this too!
Malleus is DELIGHTED. He was not aware that his little friend could change outfits! How adorable! He loves you so much! He is this close to buying an actual, fully sized wardrobe just for them! …But Lilia talks him out of it. Actual, fully sized wardrobes take up a surprising amount of room. So, he ends up getting two, miniature wardrobes. Which fills about the same space. Lilia’s not sure his advice really worked.
Malleus will now dress up his dolls for tea parties, picnics, or whatever outings they decide to go on. He is constantly surprised and delighted by whatever you make him, although he’s not very good at suggesting ideas. One of the few ideas he came up with was fashionable about a hundred years ago and was a very complicated piece of clothing. However, when he received the outfit, he took great measure to ensure that no harm would ever come to it.
♥Thank you for reading!! I hope you enjoyed it!!♥
#Rhea's TWST Fics~!#twisted wonderland#twst x reader#twst#twst fanfic#twisted wonderland x reader#twst fluff#riddle rosehearts x reader#riddle rosehearts#Leona Kingscholar#leona kingscholar x reader#Azul Ashengrotto#Azul Ashengrotto x reader#Jamil Viper#Jamil Viper x reader#Vil Schoenheit#Vil Schoenheit x reader#Idia Shroud#Idia Shroud x reader#Malleus Draconia#Malleus Draconia x reader
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Careful - Chapter Five
(Dad)Spencer Reid x (Mom)Fem!Reader
Chapter Five: Brick By Boring Brick
Her prince finally came to save her, and the rest you can figure out.
Summary:
The world is closing in around you. You're supposed to sit in your home and wait for a killer to come to you, and your son seems to prefer a man that you were convinced never should have been in his life in the first place.
What happened? Where did you go wrong?
The only way to find out is to reflect on the past - and to perhaps, forgive something you once thought was unforgivable.
Dad!Spencer Reid x Mom!Fem!Reader. Exes to Lovers. Angst.
Word Count: 9,700
Criminal Minds Masterlist | AO3 Link | Series Masterlist
Detailed warnings and author's notes below the cut.
Warnings: again, general warnings for a Criminal Minds episode - mentions of murder, stalking; the reader character is being victimized by a serial killer; angst - lots of emotional angst; the reader character and Spencer argue and hash things out; this chapter shows the flashback of how their relationship ended; mentions of drugs/drug use/drug addiction - there is mentions of Spencer’s drug addiction after the incident with Tobias Hankel; mentions of the reader having an eating disorder (in the past, before meeting Spencer); mentions of how pregnancy can affect eating disorders; mentions of the reader having an absent father; mentions of Spencer’s trauma/PTSD after the Hankel incident; mentions of lack of hygiene/lack of cleaning his apartment due to trauma and depression; Spencer uses his profiling skills to insult the reader; I believe that is it for this chapter.
A/N: This is it! This is the big chapter where we all find out what happened for them to break-up! I hope everyone enjoys it. (I am not gonna lie, I am really starting to mentally stall with this series, and I am really eager to work on something else lmao. So let's hope I can stick it out and get it done.)
...
Spencer considered lying to you.
He knew that you were going to have a hard time taking the news - there was no safehouse, no protective custody. Just him. Everything he had been offering before, nagging you about - it wasn’t truly being offered to you now. You would take it harder because now, in a sense, you and your son were being used as bait to lure the killer out and catch him in the act.
He considered lying to you. But he knew that it would ruin all the progress that the two of you had made.
So he made what he hoped was the right choice. He laid it all out for you as plainly as he could. They needed to catch him into the act, or he might choose a different victim. More innocent women might get hurt, their children being orphaned in the process. There would be unmarked cars stationed nearby, ready to help when Spencer called them in.
He would be there to protect you.
You still had a glisten of tears in your eyes, and he thought that you were going to panic. He was surprised when you stepped forward and wrapped your arms around him again - but he embraced you tightly, feeling a certain selfish joy at having you back in his arms.
“As long as you’re here to protect me.” You sniffled quietly, burying your face in his chest once again.
“I’m not going to leave you.” He promised. “I don’t care what happens - I won’t let you out of my sight until we catch him.”
You didn’t bring up the fact that this likely meant sleeping in the same bed with Spencer. You weren’t sure if that was something you were looking forward to or dreading.
…
Spencer encouraged you to go about your usual routine - especially because he didn’t want Sebastian to be afraid or paranoid, even if such a smart boy could sense that you were upset and didn’t understand why.
Sebastian was easily distracted from the underlying tension when he realized that Spencer would be around to tuck him into bed.
He became so ripe with excitement that you thought it might be difficult for him to sleep. Even though his bed time wasn’t officially until later, he skipped his evening TV time to rush up the stairs so that Spencer would come with him. He insisted that Spencer help him pick out his pajamas, and then he wanted to show Spencer his toothbrush that played Moonlight Sonata (a toothbrush that was designed to play exactly two minutes of a song so that kids knew how long to brush their teeth).
You followed them upstairs and any efforts you made to help - showing Spencer which drawer the pjs were in and pointing to the drawer with the toothpaste in it - you were brushed off by Sebastian, who insisted that they didn’t need your help. He only wanted help from his new best friend.
Observing the whole thing truly made you wonder what the past four years of your life would have been like with Spencer there.
It caused a kind of lovesick nostalgia to flood you. Something that overtook you as you watched Spencer kneel down by the sink to get on Sebastian’s level, quietly complimenting him on his brushing technique and reminding him not to miss any spots - ready with a cloth to wipe your son’s face when he was all done.
You could only imagine how sweet he would have been with the newborn, tightly swaddled Seb; how he would have taken care of you so well after you gave birth, how perfect he would have looked with a baby in his arms. All of it left you stewing in regret, and you tried incredibly hard to hide a frown from Sebastian for the dozenth time that day.
Soon, Sebastian was rushing to jump into bed, and shouting an all too familiar request.
“Mommy, the stars!” He cheered brightly, pointing toward the lightswitch.
Spencer’s expression grew confused at this, and you felt a tingle of delight surge over the fear and anxiety for the first time in hours.
You turned off the lights, and then you walked over to a bookshelf on the far side of the room - on top of which, you had set up a star projector for Sebastian. It was something you had gotten for him as a night light when he was still very little. Even if it was an unconscious whim at the time - you couldn’t deprive Spencer’s son of the stars.
You switched it on and an array of bright stars were projected onto the ceiling, causing Spencer’s neck to crane upward in awe. Sebastian giggled in delight and flung himself backward in bed to look at it.
“He usually sleeps with this on as a night light, but he’s probably gonna want a story before he goes to sleep.” You said, motioning toward the book shelf. “You can turn the side lamp on.” You pointed to that as well. “Are you guys gonna be okay while I go get my pjs on?”
You knew that Spencer wasn’t likely to let you out of his sight - and that was exactly the look that came in his eyes; hesitant dread, clear to you even through the semi-darkness with the bright swirling lights moving across the ceiling reflected onto his face.
“Don’t lock your door.” He told you quietly. “And make sure to holler if you need anything.”
He chose his words carefully, not wanting to alarm Sebastian.
“I’ll be fine.” You assured him. “I’m right down the hall.”
Then you turned to Sebastian - who was laying on his back, still admiring the stars, already looking sleepy. He’d had quite an exciting, usual day - so that wasn’t entirely surprising to you.
“I’ll come back and kiss you goodnight in a minute, okay?” You told him. “Spencer is gonna read you your goodnight story. Sounds good?”
“Yeah!” Sebastian easily agreed. “I love you, Mommy!”
That grin, those big eyes looking up at you - it really reminded you why all the pain was worth it. That you would do anything to protect him.
“I love you, too, Seb.” You leaned down and kissed his forehead, and then you moved to walk out of the room.
He added something on that caught you off guard, though, causing you to freeze in the doorway.
“Mommy?” He called out, and you turned back to look at him. “Can Spencer stay forever?”
You felt as though a fist had been jammed into your throat.
All of your bones were concrete stiff, and you couldn’t bear a single glance in Spencer’s direction - you felt his eyes on you, but you couldn’t face him.
“We - we’ll talk about it more tomorrow, okay?” You replied, having to clear your throat roughly in order to get the words out.
“Okay.” Sebastian huffed quietly, rolling into a yawn.
When you left the room, Spencer felt an intense temptation to follow you simply to pursue that subject - but he had an obligation toward his son now. Something he hadn’t had the privilege of partaking in before.
A simple bedtime story.
Spencer settled in with Sebastian and you rushed down the hallway toward your room. You closed the door behind you (not locking it) - the second that you were alone, the tears rushed out before you could stop them.
Of course your son had missed his father’s presence in his life. Even if he didn’t know that Spencer was his father - their personalities were so well-matched, and Spencer was so good with him.
How could you have been so stupid? Who were you to deny a child of his father?
You walked over to your bed and sat on the edge, and then you took your jewelry box out of your bedside table drawer - you kept it right next to the lock box that contained your gun. You opened the jewelry box and took out the star necklace that Spencer had given you, staring at the pendant in the middle of your palm with deep contemplation.
You had broken up with him for a good reason. Many good reasons. And you had known your reasons back then - and they had been life-altering. Back then - it felt like choosing between a secure life for your baby and choosing the chaos of chasing the life of your love. Back then - Spencer was so unstable. He hadn’t been fit to raise a child.
The Spencer who had swept you off your feet and treated you like a princess - the man who had given you the necklace; he was not the same person you had faced down, vicious and bitter on the night that you had broken up with him.
But that man who gave you the necklace - it felt like the same man who held you in the kitchen and promised that nothing would happen to you. It felt like the same man who looked at your son like he had hung each and every star in the sky.
You put the necklace back on with shaking hands, struggling to clasp it for a moment. You hoped that it would be an omen. The man who had given you this necklace was back, to stay - he could raise a family with you. He could be your stability. He could be what you and Seb needed.
Then, you tried to shut off your mind as you went about getting ready for bed yourself. Even though you were pretty certain that you weren’t going to sleep with all this hanging over your head, it was still nice to be in comfortable clothing; to have a routine. You did your nightly skincare (but you didn’t bother to brush your teeth, knowing that you were likely going to want some coffee soon), put on your pajamas, and uncaring if Spencer noticed - shed your bra, needing to relieve some tension from somewhere.
You left the room wearing a pair of loose, thin pajama pants and a large tee shirt with Garfield on the front of it; along with your slippers and an unzipped hoodie. You had the necklace freely untucked from the neckline of your shirt, knowing that Spencer would spot the silver chain and know what it was anyway.
He was a profiler, so he could read you like a book anyway. You hated that.
When you walked back to Sebastian’s room, you found it oddly quiet.
You were surprised that you didn’t hear the sounds of Spencer’s soothing voice reading a story, Sebastian’s laughter - his small voice egging Spencer on to read more even though it was time to go to sleep.
You stood out of view, just beyond the doorway for a moment before you decided to peer inside.
The sight inside made your chest twist with a very unique kind of pain.
Spencer was laying half on the small single bed, one of his feet on the floor to keep himself from falling off completely, his head awkwardly propped up against the headboard. Sebastian was about half a foot off the wall, cuddled up closely to Spencer, his head laid in the middle of Spencer’s chest. The Rubble plushy that Spencer had gotten him was curled up under his chin, Spencer’s arm gently petting his curly hair while he peacefully slept on top of his father for the first time in his short life.
The way Spencer looked at him was what truly broke your heart.
You knew that was the gaze of a man who had missed so much - whose own heart was breaking from all the time he had missed. Someone who was enjoying this moment more than anything in his life because he had missed out on so much of Sebastian before this.
After a few moments of you standing in the doorway silently, tears gathering in your eyes, Spencer felt your presence there. He was finally able to tear his gaze away from Sebastian’s gentle, sleeping face to look up at you.
“He said he wanted to hear ‘a new story’.” Spencer told you. “I started reciting The Old Man and The Sea from memory, and he only got about five pages in before he fell asleep.”
It didn’t surprise you that Spencer knew the novel by heart. It didn’t surprise you that his theatrical, meditative speaking voice had so easily soothed Sebastian to sleep.
You nodded, and deeply against your will - a thick tear rolled down your face.
Unable to face it any longer, you left once again - feeling like a prisoner in your own home, running from corner to corner in a poor attempt to avoid the inevitable. You rushed to the kitchen and clicked on the coffee machine before you began attending to the larger dishes from dinner - pots you had left to soak in the sink that you now wanted to scrub at in an effort to distract yourself.
Spencer felt a sense of urgency rise up in him when he saw you start crying (seemingly out of nowhere). He hated watching you run away from him for the dozenth time that day.
Any calm he had felt from watching his son fall asleep was chased out of him. But of course, he didn’t want to wake the peacefully sleeping boy, so he had to very slowly, very carefully wiggle out from underneath the sleeping boy. He adjusted Sebastian’s head onto the pillow, making sure to cover him up and tuck him in with his toy before he left the room - leaving the bedroom door slightly ajar behind him, with the star lights still circling the ceiling.
And then he practically raced downstairs to see you.
What had he done to upset you?
You wanted him to be a part of his son’s life, right? You wanted him to be a good father, right?
What the hell had he done to upset you now?
When he came into the kitchen, you were standing at the sink with your back to him, furiously scrubbing at one of the pots from dinner.
“What the hell happened?” He sighed, tired and frustrated. “What the hell could I have possibly done now?”
“You didn’t do anything.” You replied, your voice short, angry, and still choked off by tears.
In truth, it was your most honest view of the situation.
This made Spencer spike with an even deeper frustration.
He thought that the two of you had been making progress. But now, you were cutting him off again. You were trying to placate him with lies when he so badly wanted the truth. He wanted to air it all out. The two of you needed it out - out it in the open instead of festering away like a damn secret.
“No, no.” He pressed, leaning against the counter and crossing his arms, swarming with bitterness. “Come on, I must have done something.”
You remained silent, letting out a single sniffle as you continued to scrub - the only sound going through the kitchen being the sloshing of water through the sink and the bubbling of the coffee maker.
“Trust me, I know how it is.” Spencer sighed. “I don’t open up enough, I don’t trust you… it’s always my fault.”
In the months after the break-up, he had done a lot of thinking. He had gone over it in his head again and again - he had picked apart his own flaws in his mind, wondering how he could have been better for you.
“That’s just it.” You replied, your throat closing up due to your own tears. “You’re perfect.” You sniffled again. “You didn’t do anything.”
This left Spencer silent and confused - wondering for a moment if you were being sarcastic.
You put down the sponge and grabbed a dry dish cloth off to the side, drying your hands as you turned back to Spencer.
When he caught your eyes, he knew then that it wasn’t sarcasm. You were swimming in sadness, turmoil, but most of what he could see was guilt. You didn’t blame him for any of this.
“Y/N-”
“All day, you’ve been perfect.” You huffed out, cutting him off. “I’ll be honest, at first, I thought it was an act. I thought you were just playing at it, trying to show me that you could be a good father to get in my good graces. To maybe get me back.”
Spencer was hurt by this. But with the way you had started off the sentence, that didn’t seem to be your opinion now. He remained silent, letting you continue to get the full stream of your thoughts out.
“I didn’t think you’d be able to keep it up. I thought something would happen. I thought you’d slip… but then, I realized: you can’t fake it. You’re not faking it. The way you are… you’ve changed. You really have changed.” You sighed.
He was glad to hear that, but he knew that there was something else. Now, he was determined to find out why you were upset.
“Look-”
“Did I hallucinate the whole thing?” You spoke suddenly. “I just feel so crazy… Did I really break up with you for no fucking reason?”
This stung Spencer.
He knew that there had been a myriad of good reasons at the time. But something he had gone over in his mind, stewing with regret over and over again - he had never wanted it to be a break-up. He had wished over and over again that the two of you could have worked on things instead of just ending them so suddenly.
“You did have your reasons back then.” Spencer admitted quietly. “I know that you did.” Then, after a moment, he felt the need to add on: “I… I know they were good reasons. I don’t blame you for wanting to end the relationship.”
He chose his words carefully in that sense.
He fully understood ending the relationship. That was your choice. But the one thing that still plagued him-
“Why the hell didn’t you tell me that you were pregnant?” He asked, entirely exasperated.
It was as though he had flipped the knife around, plunging it into you this time.
You remained stunned and silent, not prepared to be confronted by the question, and Spencer, utterly hurt, continued on.
“You stole four years of his life from me! Four years!” He shouted, his words whipping at you in a way that made you flinch. “And you were never planning on telling me! You were gonna let me miss everything! His first day of school, his college graduation, his wedding! You never wanted me in his life! You-!”
“Because you weren’t good enough for him!” You shouted back, utterly defensive.
You hated that you couldn’t take it back - you hated the pain that flooded across Spencer’s features.
“Not back then.” You added on, knowing that it was barely a worthy addendum. “The man I left standing in that apartment wasn’t someone I wanted to raise a child with-”
“How is that any excuse?” Spencer spit back bitterly.
You glared at him.
You had your reasons then. It felt like you were on trial, now, though. And you had to scramble to put together a defense - to explain it to him when he had been the accused in the crime at the time.
“You really can’t understand why I didn’t tell you that I was pregnant?” You gaped, still defensive.
“No, I really don’t get it.” He agreed, shaking his head. “You had to know that I would have done anything to become a father. No matter what, I would have stepped up, I-”
“Oh, don’t give me that!”
You were raising your voice now, years old anger bubbling up in your veins, awoken by his self righteous attitude - his foggy nostalgia when viewing his past self.
“It was bad, Spencer. It was a bad time. And you can’t tell me with all honesty that you would have turned it around like that,” You snapped your fingers to help demonstrate the point. “Just because you found out that when you came inside me, it stuck.”
“I would have tried.” Spencer pressed.
“But you wouldn’t have tried for me?” You replied desperately.
That stung you deep, tearing open some of the wounds you still had from that night.
It was something you had suspected, but you had never heard him confirm it for certain.
When you had been back there, begging him to change - he had turned on you. You alone weren’t good enough for him.
Spencer’s face fluctuated rapidly between shock and discomfort, and with no words from him, you continued.
“A baby would have been enough for you, but when I was sobbing, begging you to get better - that wasn’t good enough?” You continued, fresh tears clutching at your throat, beginning to simulate the sight he had been met with on the night you had broken up.
It was a terrible mirror. You standing in front of him, your face a picture of pure pain with glassy tears dancing in your eyes - begging him for answers, begging him to show that he loved you. That he would step up and improve out of love for you.
Because that’s what it was.
It hit him so suddenly then.
He saw that night - that deadly, world ending fight - in a whole new light now.
…
Just before the break-up, you and Spencer hadn’t officially moved in together, but you did have a key to his apartment. Moving in together was supposed to be the next logical step in your relationship, and he was heavily considering asking you to move in with him.
Well, he had been thinking about it - before his entire world was turned upside-down by a man named Tobias Hankel. When he came home scarred and emotionally chaotic, thinking about taking ‘next steps’ in life wasn’t really something he was doing.
Instead, he was in survival mode. And for the first time in his life, he was trying to do as little thinking as possible. Whenever he spent too much time in his own head, he had nightmares - he found himself back in that tiny room, strapped down to that chair, cold and unable to escape, with death looming over his head.
He hated that he relied on the drugs to drown it all out.
Among the mess that he often found between his ears - he often forgot that you had a key to his place.
When he came home that night, he was expecting to take a particularly heavy hit that would hopefully put him right into a long, dreamless sleep. He definitely did not expect you to be there. It wasn’t something that the two of you had discussed beforehand. If you had asked to come over, he likely would have said no. He squinted against the lights as he opened the door to his apartment and a particular wave of nausea hit him as the smell of food cooking hit his nose.
Perhaps it was that ironic kind of nausea that only comes after starving for so long. He couldn’t remember the last time he had eaten. Of course, his body seemed to run perfectly fine on nothing but coffee and that precious thing that felt so heavy in his pocket. As far as he knew, he didn’t need to eat.
“Spencer?” You called out his name when you heard the door creaking on its hinges, and Spencer sighed deep in his chest when he realized that the interaction was inevitable.
So much for a peaceful night.
You had been so much of a nag lately. The way you had been acting, he would even border on calling it bitchy.
When he wanted you there for meaningless sex to get his mind off things or even if he just wanted to cuddle, when he needed you to hold him - you always wanted to talk. You were constantly on him, asking him what was wrong, and how you could help. You wouldn’t just shut up and leave well enough alone; no matter how many times he told you to lay off and insisted that he was fine. (He knew that it was a lie, but he didn’t force you to talk about your problems. He wished you could see that he just wanted to be left alone. That he could get through this on his own.)
The last time he had seen you, he had torn out of your apartment at the speed of sound when he had taken off his sweater in anticipation of some hopefully mind numbing orgasms - and instead, you had asked about the marks on his arm.
And he had been dreading seeing you again ever since.
“Hey.” He called back dully, slinking in the door and closing it behind him.
He tossed his keys onto a nearby table - one that was already messy with books and newspapers. He took off his messenger bag and tossed it down carelessly too, still not turning to look at you as he peeled off his outer jacket. He left a sweater on underneath to keep his arms covered; he didn’t need any more questioning from you right now.
“I made you dinner.” You pointed out, your voice tentatively hopeful. “It’s that cheese tortellini that you said you liked. And I stopped by that little shop downtown and got some of those chocolate cupcakes.”
When Spencer finally turned around, you were holding a bright pink box with the lid open, displaying two very plump, beautifully decorated chocolate cupcakes - a small, tired smile on your lips while you waited for him to say something about the kindness of the gesture.
A fresh wave of nausea rolled over him at the sight and all he felt was annoyance.
(What made things worse was that you had clearly taken the time to dress up. You were wearing one of your nicer dresses, a matching cardigan thrown over your shoulders. A light, but well done dusting of makeup across your beautiful features. If Spencer wasn’t mistaken, he could hear the clack of heels beyond the counter where he couldn’t see your lower half. You looked gorgeous, and it made him feel all the more like garbage where he stood.)
“You didn’t have to.” He huffed out, still trying to be civil, even though all he wanted at the moment was to be left alone in his own home, rather than having you there, bothering him.
“It’s okay, I wanted to.” You giggled, closing the box and setting it aside. “You’re absolutely worth it.”
That was it. That was the comment that truly cut through him.
Because he wasn’t worth it - he was a scumbag. He was a piece of trash who pitied a man who had killed seven people, and he should have died in that shitty little shack in the cemetery instead of standing here with you while you took the time to buy him cupcakes and make him dinner. He shouldn’t get to be spoiled by you after everything he had done.
Every ounce of that anger that he was feeling toward himself boiled over like a terrible overcooked pot and came spitting out like hot oil, ready to burn you.
“Can you just shut up?” He snapped. “I didn’t ask you to do any of this.”
He felt regret churn in his stomach when your face curled with hurt, and he was surprised when you didn’t immediately leave.
“It’s okay.” You said quietly.
The fact that you rolled over so easily, so apologetic - that annoyed him more.
He watched on with shock as you reached a hand toward your purse, which was sequestered off on one edge of the counter - a space you had clearly cleaned off before you had started cooking.
(Spencer could only imagine how much you looked down upon him, considering him a lazy pig with how messy and generally unhygienic his apartment was because - even though he hated it - he couldn’t bring himself to clean with his generally mental disarray as of late.)
You put a hand into the open zipper of your bag and soon came out with something you easily knew was there, didn’t even have to dig around for, and Spencer watched on curiously as your hand came back with a thick fistful of colorful pamphlets.
“I also got these for you.” You said, extending the arm out to him.
He had a terrible knot in his gut.
He stepped forward on shaking legs and when he grabbed them from you - surely enough, it was exactly what he had feared.
Spencer’s eyes grew tense with anger as he scanned over it all.
A bunch of crap about sober living with generic stock images of people smiling - well paid models who had never known a single day of pain in their stupid, well groomed lives. People who could never even imagine what Spencer had been through.
“We can talk about it when you’re ready.” You told him, anxiety keeping your breath tight in your chest as you spoke. “I know it’s hard, so-”
What the hell did you know?
“God, you are so fucking full of it!” Spencer shouted, tossing down the pamphlets, causing them to scatter across the counter in a mess, his sudden spike in volume making you flinch.
As though you had been slapped, it took you a moment to recover from the pure shock of his words before you could actually speak any kind of reply.
“What?” You gaped at him. “Spencer, what the hell do you mean? I’m trying to help-”
“‘Oh, I know it’s hard.’” He repeated your words in a mocking voice. “Please, what the hell do you know?”
That caused a dangerous shift in you, turning the understanding and pity inside of you toward fed-up anger.
“I don’t know anything because you won’t tell me!” You shouted back. “You won’t even tell me what the hell is wrong! It’s like you don’t even fucking trust me!”
Unconsciously, this is exactly what Spencer had wanted. He had wanted a fight - claws, noise. He needed to be punished. He couldn’t stand you sitting around, acting so damn calm, being so sweet to him when he was so awful.
“Why should I tell you?” Spencer argued, grasping blindly at nothing, yelling just to make noise. “It’s none of your goddamn business!”
“Why wouldn’t this be any of my business?” You gasped. “Spencer, we’ve been together for - what? Almost three years now?”
It had been two years, eleven months, and three days since your first date. It had been two years, eleven months, and fifteen days since he had first spoken to you. It had been three years and four days since he had first laid eyes on you - thinking that you were the most beautiful woman on earth, thinking that he would never, ever work up the courage to speak to you. Thinking that there was no chance on earth that you would ever actually be his.
And now, he was about to ruin the best thing that had ever happened to him.
All good things must come to an end, right?
“I care about you.” You said, your voice cracking around the words - the ghost of tears beginning to form in your throat, like dark clouds forming in the sky before a storm. “That makes it my business.”
Spencer huffed and rolled his eyes. “Whatever.”
“It’s not just ‘whatever’, Spencer!” You screamed, your frustration flaring up once again.
He didn’t speak, he just kept on glaring at you. This pissed you off more - finally gave you the balls to say it.
“You’re on drugs!” You finally found the courage to speak it aloud. There was a tense stare down as you waited for him to deny the accusation. When he didn’t, a sharp spear pierced your chest, and the first tears fell. “You’re hurting yourself. This is a big deal, baby. You need help.”
Looking back on it now - it had been four years, nine months, and eight days since the last time you had called him ‘baby’. He should have seen it then, but this was the beginning of the end.
He should have latched onto it as a safety line and pulled himself ashore. He should have accepted the help that you were so graciously offering him.
But instead, at the time - it only stung him more. It only showed him a display of the sweetness that he didn’t think he deserved. It only caused him to turn on his defenses more.
Like a poisonous plant evolving his instincts in the worst way - it made him fight back harder.
“Don’t tell me what I fucking need!” Spencer cried out, every inch of his voice utterly insulted. “So what if I’m on drugs? You’re not a fucking peach yourself!” He let out a bitter, airy chuckle with these words, and instantly your face shifted.
A very large part of you knew that he was resorting to personal attacks because he was desperately trying to shift the attention away from himself - away from talking about his own problems. But with the shock and hurt pulsing through your system, you couldn’t truly focus on the logic of it all.
“What?” You gaped. “Spencer, what are you talking about?”
“You - you act so goddamn perfect all the time, but-”
He stuttered, hesitating for a fraction of a moment, watching the hurt and confusion tangle over your beautiful features - he could have blamed it on the drugs in his system or the fact that the trauma had been so recent and he technically had not ‘recovered’ from it. But he made the final move, then, hurling a harpoon into your relationship, making a giant wound that couldn’t be recovered from.
“But you’re a pathetic, shallow little girl with abandonment issues because your father left you before you hit puberty-” He said, breaking you down in that intense, psychological, profiler way. “You seek validation from me, the man you’re having sex with, in the most utterly Freudian way, and when you don’t receive that validation, you starve yourself in the name of vanity, seeking satisfaction and control that you’ll never truly obtain because you’re a narcissistic control freak!”
He managed to hit every point perfectly; he had used his skills to look into your soul, hand-picking every single thing that would have hurt you most. Given, he also had information that you had told him during late-night conversations where the two of you had bonded. You had told him about your shitty father and the eating disorder that you struggled with on and off since childhood (and still occasionally struggled with since you had met him). He had told you about his mother and his own shitty father - but it was never something that you would have used against him.
You knew that it was meant to hurt you - to distract you. You knew that he was lashing out in order to put a wall between himself and you. But you couldn’t help the giant lump that rose up in your throat, the flood of tears that poured freely down your face.
Hearing those words right from his mouth was one of your worst nightmares come to life - as though one of your safest, softest places to land was now a bed of thorns.
Spencer’s gut twisted when he saw you crying, but like a man possessed, he couldn’t stop himself.
“Did you honestly think that being with me was going to fix you?” He let out a dark chuckle, sounding well and truly like a super villain, punching right through your heart. “Maybe, you should spend less time focusing on me and my supposed problems,” He griped, sarcasm tight on his lips. “And spend a bit more time fixing yourself.”
You sucked in a chest rattling breath, and began gathering your purse, leaving the pamphlets on the counter as you moved to grab your coat off the hook.
You would forever regret turning back for one last word, your throat quaking hard and struggling to even get the words out.
“And how would you recommend that I do that?” You asked, entirely bitter.
“Well, for starters, you could use a few less cupcakes in your life.” He replied, snarky, demanding.
He was angry about the cupcakes because they represented everything good about you - your generosity, your kindness, your propensity to view the small things in life as a representation of life being good as a whole.
It came off sounding like a jab at your weight, degrading your perfect body - especially after he had called you narcissistic for having an eating disorder.
A sharp jolt went through his chest when the words fully penetrated his own ears - when he truly heard how terrible it was.
Especially when he saw the look of horror that struck your gorgeous, tear-soaked features.
“Y/N-” He said your name so softly, and an apology begging to be chased from his lungs.
But you wouldn’t let him.
“We’re done here.” You declared, a dark finality in your voice as you turned and stormed out of the apartment, slamming the door behind you.
At the time, Spencer simply thought you meant - done with the conversation. He didn’t know that you had already decided that your words were declaring - done with the relationship. At the time, you were well and truly done with Spencer Reid.
He ached to chase after you, to scream apologies down the hall, no matter who would hear him - but his feet only carried him as far as the door before he collapsed against it, pressing his forehead hard into the wood while his soul clawed at the inside of his chest, aching to get to you, mourning that he had hurt you so badly.
Spencer left the food to go stale, turning off all the lights in the apartment. Then he took a strong hit, and cried himself to sleep.
He woke up the next morning stewing in regret. He called you, and of course, you didn’t answer. He sat on the edge of his bed, thinking. He wondered if he should go to your favorite coffee shop, get your favorite breakfast and go to your place to force his way in so that he could talk things over with you. He wondered if he should agree to go to one of the sober treatment programs that you had picked out just to please you.
While he was considering all of this, his phone rang, and he rushed to pick it up, thinking that maybe it was you. It was JJ, alerting him to a case. He gathered his things and left for work, letting you fall into the back of his mind, thinking that he would be able to pick up the pieces and apologize when he got back.
But it had been too late.
The next time he opened his apartment door, he tripped over the key he had given you. You had slid it under the door in order to return it to him after locking up.
You had let yourself in to gather your things from Spencer’s place, and to leave a very large box of his things that had been left at your place in the middle of his kitchen counter. Beside that box was an envelope with his name on it. A six page handwritten letter from you, explaining all of your reasoning for not wanting to speak to him in person, wishing him well in getting sober, telling him not to make any efforts to contact you again because he had hurt you so badly and you simply needed to heal - and declaring the end of the relationship finite and official.
(Your pregnancy, of course, was mentioned nowhere among those six pages.)
Several weeks later, Spencer would receive a similar letter from Gideon when he left the BAU without telling anyone.
When he read your letter, Spencer sobbed so loudly that his throat hurt.
And after reading it several more times, letting it truly hit him - he flushed the last of the stash he had down the toilet. A few weeks later, after he had worked up the courage, he went to your apartment. After a while of him knocking on the door and calling your name, begging for you to come out and see him, one of your neighbors came out. They yelled at him to shut up, and informed him that you had moved.
That was the first day Spencer went to a Narcotics Anonymous meeting.
…
It had all happened so fast.
You found out you were pregnant, and you knew that the end of your lease was coming up. It had been a time you were hoping to move in with Spencer, but with that hope blown to shreds, you needed a fresh start.
Your mom knew someone selling for cheap because it was in a newly developing area, and most of the other houses around it weren’t finished yet. She thought it wouldn’t appeal to you because it was in a different state, but - you found yourself calling the real estate agent and packing up your boxes that week.
You figured that because you had done so well growing up without a father, your kid didn’t need one either. You didn’t want Spencer to cause more trouble being in his life and being unstable than not being there at all.
So you fled. It seemed like the wisest decision at the time.
…
Spencer had been so stupid.
Not only had he hurt you badly - but you had wanted him to get sober out of love. You had been so patient with him, so soft, so loving. You weren’t talking about his addiction because you wanted to pick apart his flaws. You hadn’t gone to his apartment that night because you wanted to hurl around accusations. You hadn’t wanted to be invasive; you hadn’t thought that he was a genuinely horrible, broken person and you simply wanted him to admit that.
You saw that he was hurting and you had wanted to help him heal.
At the time, you had nothing but love for him - and you had even loved those broken parts of him. He hadn’t been prepared to accept that love. He had made a terrible mistake. And there was only one thing he could do now.
Spencer shocked you when he moved from leaning on the kitchen counter and got down on his knees in front of you. Your jaw slacked in shock and you stared down at him as he clasped his hands together as though praying, staring up at you with his wide, wet eyes.
“I am so sorry.” He said, his voice quaking around the words. “I know that I could never apologize enough for what happened - I was horrible to you back then. You definitely didn’t hallucinate that.”
“Well… it wasn’t all you, right? I mean, you weren’t really yourself then.” You sniffled, clearly making an implication toward the fact that he had been taking drugs.
All this time, you had put a lot of emotional stake in that. When you looked back on your memories with Spencer, you hoped that drugs was solely the reason he had turned into a different person - a kind of person who would make such harsh personal attacks toward you.
It made a lot of sense as to why he was so sweet, so normal, so personable, so good with Sebatian, so himself now. He must be sober.
“That’s no excuse.” He told you. “I need to take full responsibility for my behavior. I treated you with the type of cruelty that no person should ever have to experience, let alone a partner.”
“Spencer, get up, please.” You reached over and grabbed the fabric at the shoulder of his shirt, and he let you haul him to his feet.
It felt all too natural to stay close to you.
As you leaned up against the counter beside the sink, your hands drifted to his waist and pulled him to you. And his hands lingered behind you on the counter, bracketing you in. His face hovered close to yours - this was the closest he had come to kissing you all day. His eyes lingered on your lips.
But he knew that the two of you were too close now - too close to the truth.
He had to let you speak instead. He couldn’t risk ruining things again.
“I accept your apology.” You told him quietly.
It was something you had been waiting years to hear him say. This moment - this whole day - it was like something out of your distant fantasies. You didn’t think that you would ever get to see this version of Spencer again. And now, you weren’t entirely sure what to do with him. You still felt too cautious.
“I really want to work on things.” It was the truth, and you knew that you had to speak it out loud. “I really want you to be a part of Sebastian’s life.”
I really want to work on things.
It was the tiniest scrap of hope, but it was all he needed to pursue things.
“Are you and I gonna work on things?” Spencer asked, barely above a whisper, reaching a hand up to oh-so-gently brush his fingers across the side of your face. “Is there a future for us?”
He closed his eyes and tentatively pressed his forehead into yours while you tightly gripped onto the fabric of his shirt. His soul was clawing at his chest once again, feeling all too much like the night you had left him in the apartment all alone.
But this time, he wasn’t prepared to let you go.
“Can you answer something honestly?” You whispered.
“Anything.” Spencer replied.
“Have you…?” You breathed out, unsure how to phrase the question. “When was the last time… are you clean? Like - are you sober?”
You were almost certainly sure that he was. He was acting so different, so much more like the version of Spencer that you had fallen in love with. But you couldn’t have someone who was actively on drugs parenting your son. And you had to hope that his prolonged trip to the bathroom earlier wasn’t for that reason.
“One thousand, seven hundred, and two days.” Spencer replied. “That’s how long I’ve been sober.”
That was a very long time. You let out a breath of relief, and Spencer felt it puff out against his chin. To clarify, he then said:
“It’s about - four years, eight months, and two days.” He added on.
“So… a little after the time I ended things.” You concluded.
You felt a pang of guilt flow through you. At the time, you knew that breaking up with him was a risk. It was a painful event, and he could have turned to drugs even more for comfort. You had taken away his support system, something that could have helped him in getting sober. But he was spiraling, and you couldn’t stay there and let him take you down too.
When you found out about the pregnancy, you realized that a large part of how quick you were to act and how rash you were was likely due to the pregnancy hormones. But you weren’t going to rush back and apologize to Spencer because you didn’t want an addict helping to raise your child. You didn’t think that he would simply quit cold turkey because he found out about the baby - not from the way you had seen him.
But apparently -
“The break-up… the way things ended, it was a huge catalyst in helping me get sober.” Spencer told you. “And I’m thankful for that.”
That part surprised you.
At the time, you know you could have severely relapsed in your eating disorder.
The only reason you didn’t was because you found out that you were pregnant. Knowing that you had another human life to support, that your body wasn’t just your own - it pushed you to eat healthy, and allowed you the mental room to eat ‘treats’ when you wanted to. Nobody cares if a pregnant woman gets fatter, and that did make you feel safe, in a sense.
You knew that you didn’t want to date after Sebastian was born - you were focusing so much on him that you didn’t have too much room to be self conscious of your Mommy body. You exercised by lifting Sebastian and carrying him around. Later, you got plenty of exercise chasing him around when he could walk. You didn’t think too much about your diet, because you mostly just ate what he did, and made sure that he was eating healthy.
In a lot of ways, he saved you. Becoming a mother was the best thing that could have happened - for your mind, body, and soul.
“What I was doing… it was not the kind of coping mechanism I should have used.” Spencer spoke up again, distracting you from your own thoughts. “But knowing that I hurt you like that - knowing that I lost the best thing in my life… it made me realize that I was turning into someone I didn’t want to be. I was turning into this utterly horrible person, and I needed to change.”
“Spencer-” You choked out.
Hearing him describe himself as an ‘utterly horrible person’ did hurt.
“It’s okay.” He said softly.
“Can - can I ask what happened?” You whispered. “What made you turn to-? I mean… you left and then when you came back… you were so different.”
He knew what you were talking about.
He wasn’t even sure how he could put it into words for you.
A man in Georgia who had taken on the personality of his father in order to survive. Seven murders in the name of religion. A case that was supposed to be straightforward - a time where Spencer had nearly met God himself.
He had refused to tell you back then because he didn’t want to be seen as weak. He didn’t want to taint you with the details. He wanted to be comforted and coddled by you without you knowing why he needed that comfort.
After a moment of Spencer not speaking - standing there with distant horror in his eyes as it all replayed in his mind, you spoke again.
“It’s okay if you don’t want to tell me.” You said, reaching up and gently petting a hand down his arm. “You’ve done a lot of healing since then, and I know it’s in your past now.”
“Tobias Hankel.” He told you, confusing you slightly for a moment before he continued. “He - he was a man who killed seven people. It was a case in Georgia. It was supposed to be standard. We were called in to profile the murders, and actually - he was listed as a witness, and JJ and I went out to interview him. It was a really secluded area. And we got separated.” Spencer took in a breath, and you continued touching his arm, a gentle assurance that you were there, that it was okay. “And… he caught me off guard. He knocked me unconscious.”
Spencer didn’t feel the need to give you all the dirty details. How he had been shocked by Tobias speaking in the voice of his father, by the appearance of ‘both suspects’ in one body. How he had begged for mercy.
“And he took me to another location. And when I woke up… I had no clue where I was.” He said, this throat tightening up as the memories came flooding back to him.
“Oh baby, that must have been so scary.” You said, the word flying from your lips out of instinct as you moved your hand to his chest - instinctively trying to protect his heart with the whole of your palm.
Hearing it from your lips, so gentle, so soothing - baby.
Spencer felt like he was at home again. It was the last thing he needed to crack open that door - everything he had been holding back, every raw emotion - it came flooding out.
He blinked out tears, and you thought that it was terror resurfacing from that day.
“Hey, shh, it’s okay.” You told him, reaching up to wipe those tears away. “I’m here now.”
That’s all he had ever wanted. To be here with you. All he had ever needed.
“Thank you.” He said quietly.
“You don’t have to thank me.” You replied, your voice gentle.
“At the time - he drugged me.” Spencer continued the explanation - the one he so dutifully owed you. “That - that’s why.” He stuttered out. “When I came home… I couldn’t stop. It was the only thing numbing the pain. The only thing stopping me from… truly facing it all. From thinking about everything that had happened to me - processing it. I didn’t want to like it, but… it was the only thing that got me through when I was… when I felt like I was so close to death. I didn’t know how to stop. I didn’t know how to exist without it at the time.”
Spencer took in a sharp breath.
“And when you left, I realized that I needed to stop - I needed to stop the drugs, or I was just gonna lose everything.”
“You are so strong.” You said, your own voice ripe with tears as you continued to hold Spencer’s face, holding both of his cheeks now, forcing his gaze toward you. Your eyes were burning passionate, every inch of the declaration intense and strong. “Spencer, you got through that and came home. I don’t know if I could have done what you did.”
“You could have.” He told you, entirely truthful. “You’ve been raising a child by yourself for four years. Never doubt how strong you are.”
He wanted to deflect - eager to stop talking about himself now. But he was doing it with compliments this time. He knew that he could never make it up to you, but he would never stop with the flattery. He would never stop trying.
“God, Spencer. I missed you so much.” You said, your throat clenching around the words. Then, before you could stop it:
“You know I never stopped loving you, right?”
He swore that his heart stopped in that moment.
“I - I don’t think I could have stopped loving you if I tried.” He replied, his tongue fat and dry in his mouth, having to swallow tightly after he spoke.
You used your hands on his cheeks to pull him toward you, then, and like the inevitability of the earth rounding the sun as the years passed - Spencer came home to you, sighing into your mouth as he felt your lips in that perfect, beautiful kiss. He finally felt that tightness ease in his chest - maybe it was a feeling he had been waiting to pass for years, his heart locked up and tight with that love for you strangling him from the inside, clawing to get out with you not around for him to truly love you the way he needed to. With his son somewhere out there in the world, waiting to be loved by him.
Your lips were so smooth and perfect against his - and it wasn’t long before that sweet love turned aching, insistent, and passionate.
Spencer put his hands on your hips and scooted you back up onto the counter. You let your body naturally shift with the movements, letting yourself slowly fall into the trust of being touched by him again. You let out a moan into his mouth and embraced his tongue past your lips, one of your hands moving to tangle into his now much wilder hair. You loved the feeling of his voice vibrating a moan against you as you gave his roots a gentle tug.
Heat surged through your body as he stepped between your now wide open knees, pressing himself right up against you where you were sitting on the counter - he needed to get closer. He needed to feel you. His crotch pressed tightly against yours - causing a stirring of heat and wetness in your underwear matching him as he was just beginning to get hard.
He had missed you so much. And it had been so long for both of you - you had barely looked at other people since the break-up, and having the touch of a lost loving stirred something in your bodies that made you both so hungry.
Spencer pulled away from your lips and began kissing down your neck, eager to suck and lick and kiss and consume as much of your skin as possible. When he came across the chain of the neck sitting on your skin, he gave it a loving lick and hummed into your skin, and you moaned his name into the air.
“Spence, oh!”
And then-
Then there was a crash from somewhere else in the house. The sound of glass breaking.
You hadn’t set the alarm - because typically that was something you did before going to bed.
Someone was breaking into the house.
The killer was coming for you.
“Spencer!” You said his name with more urgency now as his head whipped up from the crook of your neck, looking around for the danger, not yet moving from between your legs as he assessed the situation.
There was a crash from your office as something was knocked over. The sound of someone stumbling as they climbed in through the broken window.
He grabbed one of the nearby kitchen knives from the block, quickly realizing that his gun was his bag by the front door - too far to run for.
“Go upstairs, get Sebastian, take him in your room and lock the door.” He told you, his voice as authoritative as you had ever heard it. He took his cellphone from his pocket and thrust it into your shaking hand. “Call JJ or any contact in this phone labeled BAU. Call until they pick up and tell them that we need back up here. No matter what happens or what you hear, do not open the door for anybody. Got it?”
...
Keep reading here: Chapter Six - That's What You Get (Finale)
#sundrop writes#criminal minds fanfiction#criminal minds#criminal minds fic#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid#dad!spencer reid#spencer reid x y/n#spencer reid x you
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Rockstar Life
It might have all been forgiven, if Eddie had called. If Eddie had called and begged forgiveness immediately.
Steve could believe- would be willing to look past one drunken mistake.
But Eddie doesn't call.
Eddie doesn't call. Not in the morning after. Or the following day. Or the next.
Steve doesn't reach out either, because how can be he expected to? Paparazzi caught Eddie shoving a mysterious man against the wall in a dark alley, captured their heated kisses and how they barely separated for long enough to get into the back of an uber, and Steve knows as soon as he sees the pictures that he won't be reaching out.
He's not the one that's done anything wrong.
It takes three days for Steve to hear from Eddie. It's a shock, a genuine surprise, because it's face to face. Steve hears the front door close, and he thinks it's Robin, come to check on him again so he doesn't even turn around from where he's making a quesadilla directly on the stovetop.
He does freeze completely when it's not Robin's voice he hears.
"Steve, I am so sorry. So fucking sorry. I can't even begin to explain how sorry."
Three days ago, Steve might have forgiven him.
Today, he's not feeling so generous. He turns the burner off and scoots the half-cooked quesadilla to the cooler side of the stovetop before turning around.
Eddie looks wrecked. Dark bags under his eyes, made even darker by his paler than normal skin, hair a type of messy Steve hasn't seen since the spring break Eddie was in hiding and unable to take a proper shower. He looks heartbroken, distraught and upset. All things Steve felt up until this exact moment. Now that he's face to face with the love of his life, he feels nothing.
"Am I moving out, or are you?"
The noise Eddie makes is heart wrenching. Steve's not so numb and hateful to not recognize that. "Babe, please-"
"Do not call me that," Steve interrupts, "not when you were probably whispering that to someone else just days ago."
"Ba-Steve. Steve, please. I swear it was a mistake. It- I was way too drunk and high to be thinking clearly-"
"I don't want your excuses, Eddie. I want to know if I'm packing my things, or if you are."
"Steve, can't we talk about this?"
That makes Steve's blood boil. "Talk about it? Talk about it? Now you want to talk about it? You should have wanted to talk about it the second you slunk from that guy's bed. Or did you have to kick him from yours? Or, worse, has it taken three goddman days to hear from you because you were still in bed!?"
"No!" Eddie cries, "no, it didn't- it was just-"
"Stop!" Steve shouts, "I don't want to hear any details! I don't care if that uber only made it a block before you came to your senses and bailed. That doesn't- those pictures- you pinned him to the wall, Eddie!"
Eddie is silent, shrinking in on himself in a way Steve's never seen. Steve pushes down the urge to comfort him.
Steve is the one in need of comfort. He's the hurt party here.
"If I were sober, it never would have happened," is all the reply Eddie finally gives. It's not good enough.
"I can't trust that!" Steve turns away, pressing his hands against his eyes hard enough to see light that isn't there. "How am I supposed to believe you? You didn't even- you didn't even call. It was like- like you didn't even know that I knew. But you must have found out. That's why you're here." Steve drops his hand and turns around. "Who told you I knew?"
Eddie swallows. "Max."
Steve nods because of course it was Max. She was the one who handed him the tabloid with the picture in it, three days ago. "So, if you didn't know I knew, you would have, what, never told me?"
"NO, no, I just- I didn't know what to say. How to say it. But then Max called yesterday and-" Eddie says Max's name with too much bite, like it's a curse. Like Max tattled on Eddie instead of exposed his betrayal.
"Shut. Up," Steve growls, "you don't get to be mad at Max for your fucking mistake! I've know you're a goddamn cheater for three days, and it's not until Max let you know that I knew, that you decided to fix it? Well, it can't be fixed, Eddie!"
"Steve, please," Eddie is crying, and Steve's seen him cry a handful of times before but this one hurts deepest. Steve's the reason for the tears, and because you don't just stop loving someone overnight, that hurts.
"No. No! I can't trust you! How many other times has this happened?-"
"Never, never I swear-"
"- Would you have ever said anything if you hadn't been fucking caught on camera?!"
"Yes, of course I would have!"
"How am I ever going to believe that?" Steve cries, "I had to learn that the love of my life cheated on me at the same time the rest of the goddamn world did! Jesus Christ, Eddie, when you said you wanted that rockstar life, I thought you meant like, big fancy house, grammy's and an invite to the met gala. Not goddamn sex, drugs and rock n' roll!"
For the first time since Steve's known him, Eddie Munson stands before him with nothing to say.
-
@i-less-than-three-you @nburkhardt @skepsiss @afewproblems
#steddie#my fic#hurt/no comfort#cw cheating#its a modern au but steve doesnt use social media#just a lil ficlet#i have no plans to continue as of now
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Your Deathclaw Boyfriend (Male Reader Version)
Male Yandere Deathclaw x Male Reader
(CW: Noncon, Inhuman genitals, double penetration, ass eaten like it’s groceries, general yandere behavior)
Word Count: 920
(Hope you guys enjoy this, I wrote and edited hastily so I hope you can forgive any errors.)
It had been an extremely stupid idea, exploring the wasteland solo with no group. But you had never been one for traveling with other people, you preferred scavenging alone, and it had a few benefits. No betrayals from companions looking for the right moment to stab you in the back and you maintained the ability to move stealthily. You could always detect a loud group of unruly bandits, they weren’t exactly subtle.
But finding a scavenging group to scour the wastes with or maybe even settling down completely in a relatively safe settlement would have prevented the fate that ultimately befell you.
You had been exploring a small cave that looked like it may have some loot, old long dead people stashed all kinds of nice stuff in places like this.
You should have known something was wrong immediately by the odd smell that seemed to permeate the air wafting out of the entrance, but it could have been anything so you continued cautiously.
That was your first mistake.
Your second mistake was seeing what was some kind of nest with large, sparkling gems at the base forming a large circle along with smoothed stones and bit of shining metal, all with hay, feathers, and clothes at the top. It was obviously bedding, but whatever it was that slept here wasn’t present then.
So you decided to nab a couple of the large gemstones before making a hasty exit.
Unknown to you the maker of the nest had seen you enter his home and was silently stalking you as you approached his bedding. And he was thrilled that his scent marking had led you into his home and was even more excited when he saw you touch the stones he had collected to attract a mate, it was a clearly an indication that you were receptive to being with him.
You had gotten closer and kneeled down in front of the nest and placed a hand on one of the gems, ready to snatch it up, but suddenly you were jerked backwards and lifted up several feet into the air. You were being held by an alpha deathclaw with black and green glowing skin. As you thrashed wildly trying to escape you were surprised to hear him speak.
“Ah, tiny mate-thing, Grogth is so happy you were attracted to my home~ Didn’t expect a human to be interested but am so so excited!” His voice was deep and beast-like but he spoke fluently.
“No! I was just… exploring!” You didn’t want to admit to having been about to steal his gems.
“Awe, you’re so shy! That’s okay, Grogth knows how to be gentle.”
If you could have reached your weapon you would have, but he quickly tore through your clothing and tossed away all your supplies before placing you carefully in his nest on your back.
He crouched down and brought you to the edge of the bedding and gently spread your legs, ignoring your attempts to kick him away and attributing all of your resistance to first time jitters, fully convinced that this was what you wanted.
Why else would you have been at his nest if you didn’t want to be mated?
He lapped eagerly at your cock and balls, at first he was surprised to see them between your legs, thinking only a female would want to be his mate and not being able to tell between a clothed human male or a clothed human female, but he was not the least bit deterred.
After all, he was a large and powerful mate and he had an awesome nest, he could never blame you for wanting to be his cute partner. Humans were so tiny and you obviously needed his protection.
Maybe that was why you were so shy, you were worried Grogth would reject you if he knew you were male. He couldn’t let his precious new mate think that!
So he made sure to give your delicate human cock lots of love, slowly licking up your shaft, wrapping his tongue around it and stroking it with his tongue until it was nice and hard.
Then he dove his mouth between your cheeks and slid his strong tongue into your entrance, making sure to apply plenty of spit to make you good and lubed up. You twitched and writhed as his tongue massaged your prostate.
And once he deemed you nice and well lubed your legs were raised and both his cocks were thrusting in and out of your tight hole.
True to his word he was as slow and as gentle a lover as he could possibly be, nuzzling into your neck and telling you how you were such a good boy for him and so very perfect at taking his cocks as he bred you.
Despite his tenderness, with the sheer size of both of his cocks penetrating you deeply pain was unavoidable. Though it was not unbearable and after a while as more and more of his precum lubricated your ass it became very pleasurable.
It did not take too long for you both to cum hard, after which he held you lovingly as you panted and tried to recover.
There was no way you would ever escape from him, your weapons were not strong enough and you didn’t have it in you to hurt Grogth anyway when he wasn’t purposefully malicious, and if you ran away he would track you down.
This was your life now, and you might as well accept it.
#yandere terato#yandere teratophilia#yandere monster#male yandere#male monster yandere#male reader#yandere x male reader#yandere fallout#yandere fanfiction#yandere fallout fanfiction#yandere deathclaw#male deathclaw x male reader#My OCs#My OC Grogth
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HAIIII IPIN !!!!!!! can i request gojo, geto, and nanami (separate) having a gf that's really optimistic? just someone who sees the good in everything and anything, and positive at all times! thank SOOOO much !!!!
JJK MEN + OPTIMISTIC GIRLFRIEND
featuring. gojo satoru, geto suguru, nanami kento x fem! reader
warning. people being mean to u >:(
note. HAIIII ANONN!!! i love this request bcs sometimes i read books, mangas, watch movies, you name 'em and see a certain character having the most positive mindset and i just go must protecc >:( anyways, thank you anon for requesting just after i opened the request box, istg i love all your ideas so much it makes me feel full <;33
GOJO SATORU. absolutely hates the way you try to see the good in people — specifically people who have hurt your feelings in the past. he just wonders what goes on in your mind to just forgive and forget everyone who has wronged you.
you did. but not him.
"baby, that guy called you names when you were in high school!" gojo whines, laying down on the bed, draping an arm over your torso, "why are you still willing to meet him?"
"satoru, he said he was sorry!" you smiled at him, tracing his features softly — the male grumbled but leaned into your touch, "and plus it's not nice to hold grudges, it's been what? how many years?"
a loud whine escapes his throat as he pulled you close, "it doesn't matter how many years it has been, he still hurt your feelings. and nobody does that to my baby," he said, miffed.
you couldn't help but to chuckle, "well, you are coming along, so i have nothing to worry about."
the male grins, "damn right i am coming, he better sleep with one eye open starting from now," gojo threatens.
gojo just cannot wrap his head around your concept of "forgive-and-forget" because you never hold grudges, you forget everything and still talk to people who've wronged you, and you still have the heart to accept them.
as much as people say "forgive and forget", they end up at least holding the tiniest bit of grudge — or even a bigger grudge, right? but you? you don't. you actually forgive and forget.
well — thankfully, not him. he takes his job to protect you seriously, from any kind of harm, including monsters (people who were mean to you) both in the past, present, and possibly the future.
"baby, can you stop hanging out with that one girl? the one who always wears the purple colored eye-shadow?" he asks you, wrapping his arms around your waist.
"hm? why?"
"i don't like the vibe she gives out. it's giving...well...cruella de vil." he murmurs into your neck, nuzzling his nose in content as you went on with your skincare routine.
"satoru," you mumbled, "you can't just judge her by her vibes."
he groans, "but baby, i swear i could just feel it! she's evil," he whispers in your ear.
"satoru."
"okay, fine. just tell me if she does anything to you, i'll give her a piece of my mind (hollow purple)." he mutters out, pouting and upset as you brushed his speculations off.
GETO SUGURU. he loves it and hates it at the same time. geto loves how positive you are against the world — and what more does he need, really? it's you and him against the world at this point, although he feels like he doesn't contribute much to your positive energy (that's what he thinks).
geto thinks of himself as a pretty negative person. and you know. the both of you had a lot of deep talks about everything, including what you both had in mind. and honestly, geto wasn't surprised if he hears you talking about how your life was going smoothly; and his was just a contradiction to what you have.
it's life, people come and go. but geto seemed skeptical of that term, why couldn't people come and stay? he finds it hard to believe that you could be the one leaving him at anytime of the day, and the thought just terrifies the male.
the death of amanai put a hole in his mind that couldn't be closed off, and it fucking scarred him. but you were there for him, you didn't sugar coat words or tell him white lies — you tell him everything, straight to his face, and your choices of words made him feel loved. what else could he ask for?
"'m sorry," he mutters into your shoulder, and his voice comes out a bit muffled.
you brushed his nape gently, "it's alright sugu, you know you don't have to apologize for being sad, right?" you tell him, pressing a kiss onto the side of his head, "it's okay to be a little sad."
sometimes he asks himself if he really deserved you or not. but at the end of the day; you always convince him that he deserved it.
geto hates your optimism sometimes because he watches people trample over you and you brush them off with a smile, it makes him feel angry. he asks himself why you were doing this to yourself? believe me when he tried asking you to try talking back, or putting up a fight.
"angel, you know it makes me kind of sad that you'd let people talk to you that way," he said to you, grazing his finger over your cheek gently.
you shot him a gentle smile, "'ts okay sugu, what good do i get from arguing back to them, really?"
he just pulls you into his embrace, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck, saying nothing. god, he just wanted to protect you from the world — why does everyone have to be so fucking mean to you?
"will you be mad if i tell them off for you?" he asks
"depends on your methods, tell me about it."
"threatening them. if it doesn't work, violence." he mutters out briefly.
"sugu, no."
NANAMI KENTO. he doesn't mind it, he finds you endearing, really. a cat getting hurt? he'll accompany you to the vet with it. or a child crying because of a fall? he'll watch you help them without any single thoughts behind.
he just loves how selfless you are. nanami once read a quote, "when given the choice between being right or being kind, choose kind." and every time he sees a selfless act from you — he just kinds of chanted it in his mind, and tell you what, nanami is such a proud boyfriend.
nanami loves how you see the good in everything, a person spilled their food on you? you tell them mistakes happen. a person bumping into you and then blaming you for it? you tell them you're sorry and thought that maybe they just had a really bad day.
but sometimes he couldn't help but to worry over you — someone so positive, bubbly, and optimistic around people who (probably) have disgusting minds. when he's not around to keep an eye on you, he just worries that someone might took advantage of your kindness and throw it out the window.
and he wouldn't be there to stop it from happening.
"ken, i'm going to go out for a hang out. it's fine, i've got my friends with me!" god, the jitters that he gets whenever you mention your friends — he was never really fond of the friends you have now, especially since they were trying hard to earn his attention. he knows they were just using you.
the texts they sent to him behind your back, the shit-talking about you, and everything else. god, he wanted to tell you about it; but he just didn't have the heart to, because he knows it will break your heart.
although nanami told them off quite rudely, defending you — it baffled him to how they still try to hang out with you with no shame after. and he tried telling you about how he doesn't like them, but you tell him it was fine.
"may i come along then?" just the thought of leaving you alone with those people pisses him off to the core, if he can't stop you from being friends with them — he will be with you.
when you agreed, he made it his job to expose them as nicely as he could. and he succeeded, oh the ecstasy he felt when you finally told them you didn't feel like hanging out with them anymore.
(and he ended up showing you the texts).
© CHURIPU 2023 , DO NOT COPY OR REPOST ANYWHERE !
#jujutsu kaisen#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen fluff#jujutsu kaisen x reader#fluff#jjk#jjk fluff#gojo fluff#gojo satoru#gojo satoru x reader#geto suguru#geto suguru x reader#suguru geto x reader#geto x reader#geto fluff#nanami kento#nanami kento x reader#kento nanami#jujustu kaisen#nanamin#nanami fluff
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zeykoyu
zeykoyu [zɛj.ˈko.ju] n. healer
Anonymous Request: I would like to request a Neteyam x Na'vi reader with the "you'll never be her trope", where reader is promised to Neteyam, but he loves another. He is sort of a shitty asshole to her, a girl who is a quiet not very well known member of the clan; he treats reader with the coldest shoulder. However, he overhears the girl talking to her friends about how she just using Neteyam to gain status in the clan. He then sees reader for the caring person she is, and grovels for forgiveness.
I have resigned myself to my fate.
In what feels like a very short amount of time, I will be mated for life before Eywa, to a man who does not love me. In fact, he barely seems to tolerate me.
He looks at me with disappointment, and sometimes, it even looks like he feels disgusted by me.
It wasn't always this way. Neteyam used to be a friend, and someone I trusted. He was so kind and good-hearted when we were younger, but he has turned his back on me and come to resent our pairing.
As if it is my choice! I am the next Tsahik of our people, and he the next Olo'eyktan. We are promised to each other from youth, and there's nothing either of us can do that would not cause much upset in the clan, and with our families.
Though Neteyam clearly does not want to be mated to me, even more than that, he does not want to upset his family.
The change in his heart happened just a year ago, and it was slow at first. We went from friends to acquaintances to strangers, and now to near enemies, because of her.
I don't really blame her, though. He fell in love with her, and she can't control that. I felt jealous at first, but over time, as Neteyam has treated me more and more coldly, I have started to hate both of them.
If I'm being honest, I understand why he loves her; she is beautiful, and funny, and many men have had their eyes on her. I am plain, and small, and not many people speak to me. She does seem a better match for someone like Neteyam, and I almost wish we could be free of this pairing.
As much as Neteyam does not want to disappoint his family, I don't want to disappoint our people; I am a talented healer and I will serve our people well as Tsahik.
So I have resigned myself to my fate.
Our fate.
--
Neteyam watches Sa'me from a distance, as she approaches the center of home tree with her friends, dropping off a full fishing net from a day's work.
His heart swells with pride at the woman he loves, and then, he gets angry. These two feelings always accompany each other.
Love and adoration for Sa'me, and disappointment towards his fate. It doesn't matter who he loves; he's promised to Y/N, and he can't get out of it. That's just not how it works.
She is the next Tsahik and he knows, despite how he wants things to be, that she will be an excellent Tsahik for their people. He has to put the people before himself.
But he does not have to be happy about it.
He approches Sa'me and her friends, but their backs are to him as they empty their nets, and as he gets closer, he hears their conversation.
"Aren't you worried, about his upcoming mating ceremony?" one friend asks.
To his surprise, Sa'me laughs. "No! I have gotten what I wanted, and I am relieved it will end soon."
He stops in his tracks, listening closely.
"Sa'me!" a friend chastises.
"Well, I have three offers for my hand, from fine men. I owe that to Neteyam. When they knew he wanted me, that made them want me. I think I'll pick Marek - he's handsome and strong. Neteyam is nice, but too boring for me. Plus, the way he's treated Y/N since we started spending time together... I almost feel bad for her. She will have a miserable life."
The girls laugh, and Neteyam spins on his heel, charging away.
--
He expects sympathy from his sister, but earns only an eye-roll when he tells Kiri what he overheard.
"Well, she's right. You knew you were promised and pursued Sa'me anyway, even though it was kind of obvious what she was doing. And you have been an asshole to Y/N. She's really nice to still put up with you - to even speak with you. You've treated her like dirt the last year, and she's never said a mean thing about you. Even though, she would be right to do it."
Neteyam stares at his sister, slack jawed, unsure whether to feel angry or guilty. A fine mixture of both rises in his chest, and he sighs.
"You used to be friends with her, you know. She's so sweet, and so kind. She's only putting up with your behavior so she can be Tsahik, and not because she cares about the title. She wants to help the People, and knows she'll be able to if she's Tsahik. She just has to marry an asshole to do it."
"Okay, okay," Neteyam says, waving his hand in the air, begging his sister to stop.
"Well, I just don't feel bad for you, Teyam. You need to grow up and deal with what you did."
He rolls his eyes, but he can't deny it: Kiri is right.
--
Without her noticing, Neteyam starts to watch Y/N as much as he can from that day in. Her daily routine is simple. She rises early, and heads into the forest to gather supplies she can use in her healing practice. Once she's done, she begins going around to people who she knows need her help, in and out of their homes all day, gaining hugs and smiles and thanks wherever she goes.
She is soft-spoken, and kind hearted, and her small stature only serves to make her seem more gentle, more dispositioned for healing.
He sees the way people look at her as she approaches - they look at her with relief, and hope, and when she leaves, she leaves people better than she found them.
Neteyam feels sick to his stomach.
He tries to remember what it is about Sa'me that drew him in. He sees her beauty, he can't deny it still, but it's clear now that her beauty is only on the surface.
Did she ever compliment him? Support him? Offer him a kind word?
He can't even remember what they talked about... for a year.
"Neteyam?"
He turns from the tree he's leaning against and sees Y/N approaching, a large basket in her arms.
"You look ill. Are you okay?"
Neteyam wants to tell her he's fine, that she should leave, but he feels light-headed and instead, he sinks to the ground, a sweat breaking out on his brow.
"I'm... okay. My head feels light."
She kneels in front of him, rummaging through her basket. She pours a few things in a cup, and mixes them together with a powder.
"Here," she says, handing it to him. He takes it, his hands touching hers for a second, and he's struck by how small her hands are.
She's so delicate, like a flower, and he has certainly done his best to trample all over her.
The shame he feels is unlike anything he's ever felt before.
The drink is bitter, but it starts working almost immediately, and the faint feeling begins to fade.
"Thank you, Y/N," he says, handing the cup back to her. She takes it with a small smile and a nod, and rises to leave. Neteyam reaches out, grabbing her arm. "Wait."
She turns, frowning down at him. He stands up.
"I want to apologize to you, Y/N. I have been... terrible. I have neglected you, and I have been an asshole. I'm sorry. I would like to start again."
She tilts her head to the side and narrows her eyes, staring deep into him. He wonders if she can see his soul.
--
Of all of the things I thought Neteyam wanted to say to me, 'I'm sorry' was not even on the list.
My instinct is to tell him to go to tell, but there is such a strange look on his face... he still looks sick, and sad, and a little bit ashamed.
Well, he should be. But also - what choice do I have? If Neteyam is offering me a chance to make the best of this situation, shouldn't I take it?
I remember how I felt about him once. Hopeful, excited, nearly in love... but that feeling is so far away now. I'm not sure if there's even a possibility of re-gaining it.
But, it seems smart to try, if we are to have any chance at a happy life.
"Okay," I reply finally. "But I don't think Sa'me will appreciate it."
Neteyam hangs his head for a moment, and then meets my eyes again. "What she appreciates does not matter. You are to be my mate. You are all that matters."
He places a hand over his heart.
I would like to trust him, but it's going to take more than one conversation where he says the right things.
--
It seems I cannot get rid of Neteyam now. When I gather supplies in the morning, he is there. When I make my rounds in the village, he is there. He is always... there.
Not silently, either. He is full of questions. Everything I do and say, he has a question about. If it wasn't endearing, it would be exhausting.
After a week of this, he asks me to take a ride on our ikrans with him - and I can't say no. I have been so busy working lately, that it sounds like a wonderful and welcome break.
Early in the morning, we head out together, and take one of the longest rides I've ever been on. In the air, we twist and turn and glide together, and all the while, Neteyam is whooping and throwing me ear-to-ear smiles.
He gestures to a nearby cave in the floating rocks, and we land together, dismounting. We are both wind-burnt, but smiling.
"I must ask you something," I say.
"Anything," Neteyam replies, chest heaving from the effort of riding.
"Why did you change your mind? About Sa'me?"
His face darkens, and he sighs. "I overheard her talking about how being seen with me has gotten her offers from many fine potential mates, and she doesn't care that I'm promised to someone else."
I wince. Even if Neteyam is a jerk, I don't think anyone deserves to be used like that.
"I'm sorry, Neteyam. Though, that does explain your sudden... interest."
He shakes his head. "No. After I heard what Sa'me said, I went to Kiri and she, uh, pointed out what an asshole I've been. She also pointed out how kind and smart and talented you are, probably to let me know, uh, what an asshole I've been. So I started kind of, uh, watching you. And I realized she was right."
"About what?"
"Well, I am an asshole but... you are the most kind-hearted woman in this clan. And you did not try to withdraw from our match because you deserve to be Tsahik. Not for the title, but because you are best suited to serve our people. You care about them more than yourself. You're selfless. And beautiful. And I was blind to think anyone could be better suited for me."
I bite my lip, and take a step back. "Neteyam, that all sounds very nice, but I..."
He steps forward, reaching out and taking both of my hands in his. "It isn't enough. I know that, Y/N. I don't expect our problems to be solved now. I just want a chance to prove to you, who I really am. What a good mate I can be for you. I can make you happy. I want to. It's all I want."
I can feel the tears gathering in my eyes, and I blink hard to keep them at bay. "I always thought so highly of you, Neteyam. I want us to be happy. I want to try."
He squeezes my hand tightly, pulling me to him.
"I will make you happy. I promise you, Y/N. Please, let me kiss you."
I hesitate for only a moment. The look in his eyes is so sincere, and his eyes fall down to my lips for just a moment, then back up to my eyes, and I can't resist. Everything I want seems to be within my grasp.
He places his hands around my waist, and pulls me in.
"Say yes," he whispers. I can't find my voice, but I nod.
The kiss is explosive. A year of anger, frustration and want packed into one kiss. My body is flush to his, and I feel the tears spilling over, but I can't stop them, and I don't want to pull away.
It feels too good.
I put my hands in his hair, gripping tightly, sighing against his lips, and he groans.
Finally, we pull away, and stare at each other, both breathless.
"I will make you happy, healer," he whispers.
I might believe him now.
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Til Death Do Us Part: Rhysand x Reader
Warnings: Longgg, angst, smut, 18+
***
The glittering lights above shown like stars down onto you. You spun in a slow circle, taking in the dangerously beautiful ballroom. This was the first time you were allowed to attend one of the High Lords parties. You had always longed to come, but your highly old fashioned father did not think it appropriate for you to attend. You were not sure what changed his mind this time, but you certainly weren’t going to argue with him.
You smoothed your hands over the blue velvet of your dress, admiring the way it looked under the lights. For the first time you felt beautiful, ethereal, desirable. You had heard about the deadly handsome High Lord, fingers tingling with excitement at finally getting to see him. Not that you expected him to pay any attention to you.
Yet there was no harm in daydreams.
The large doors to the room burst open, commanding attention. You turned to see everyone drop to a bow, dutifully bending to your knee as well. You kept your head politely pointed at the ground, listening as the High Lord and his closest warriors crossed the great room. You waited patiently until you heard; “Rise.” The cold, indifferent voice sent a shiver through you as you stood. You looked up to the dias where the High Lord sat, lightning shooting through your spine when your eyes connected with his.
You froze in shock, unable to tear your gaze from his. The cruel violet eyes bore into your own, a mixture of fear and excitement running through you. The High Lord was looking at you.
He finally moved his gaze away, beckoning Keir up to his throne. You lowered your head and walked to the edges of the room, grabbing a delicate glass of wine on your way. You stood near the wall, observing the others dance and drink around you. You were so engrossed in your watching that you didn’t notice the large shape press in next to you.
“Hello there.”
You whipped around so quickly you nearly spilled your wine, rendered speechless by the male standing next to you. He was gorgeous. You regained enough sense to politely bow your head, a soft murmur of “My Lord,” falling from your lips.
“How beautiful that sounds coming from your mouth.” He mused, enjoying the way a blush spread through your cheeks. What is happening? you thought to yourself, unsure of how to continue. The High Lord gave a dark chuckle, continuing; “Oh, darling. What is happening, you ask?” Your eyes shot up at him in surprise. He could read your mind? He laughed again. “Loveliest thing, what all have they kept from you? Hiding you away all these years?” His words were dripping in honey, deadly sweet.
You regained some composure, taking a small sip of your wine. “Forgive me, My Lord. I am not so used to the customs of Court.” You spoke politely, hoping you would say the right thing. His eyes twinkled at your response, a smirk on his face.
“Then I shall teach you.” He said, holding his arm out for you to take. You bowed your head to him again, setting your glass on a nearby table before sliding your hand into the crook of his elbow. It was dangerous to play this game with the High Lord, especially when someone knew as little as you.
He lead you to the center of the ballroom, ensuring all eyes would be on the pair of you. His hand came to circle your waist, the other sliding into yours. You placed your remaining hand on his shoulder, heart racing. You knew how to dance, having been primed to be a perfect, delicate high fae wife. That was not what made you nervous. What made you nervous was the look on your High Lords face as he gazed down at you.
He looked like he wanted to devour you.
The music began, a dark, sensual tune. The High Lord led you around the floor in an elegant dance, body pressed tight to yours. “Why have you never attended before?” He asked, cocking his head slightly. You gave a demure smile, playing the role you were trained to.
“My father did not think it appropriate for a female to attend such an event.” You answered, voice light.
The High Lord looked at you curiously. “Plenty of females come, it’s a prime event to find the best male to be married off to. I am simply surprised your father would not want such a delicious thing as you to find an advantageous match.”
Your cheeks colored again under his words, not used to hearing such things. “I am sure he knew what was best for me.” You replied softly, allowing the High Lord to twirl you out and back.
“Mmm.” He mused, looking down at you. “Perhaps so.”
The music ended with a sharp note, the High Lord keeping a tight hold on you. He took a step back, offering you his hand. You took it with a respectful nod of your head, following him as he led you up to his throne. He sat, motioning for you to place yourself on his lap.
You let out a politely embarrassed laugh, telling him; “My Lord, I do not think it would be appropriate.”
There was a brightness to his eyes, something that was peaking out from the cold exterior he presented. “Nonsense. I am the High Lord, no one would dare say something. If you are worried that you may not seem like a well-bred match anymore, do not. I can personally match you to anyone of your choosing.” He spoke, gesturing to the room full of fae. “Now sit.”
Heat rose in you at his tone, placing yourself delicately on his lap. His arm wrapped around your waist, hand settling on your hip. His other hand came up to slip just an inch under your dress, tracing the high strap of your heel on your ankle. You took a calming breath, not wanting him to see how his touch affected you.
“What is your name?” He asked, smiling when you spoke it. “Beautiful.” He murmured, leaning closer to trace his nose against your neck. Fire flared through your body, your hand gripping onto his shirt. You knew that you should not be acting like this, that you should have politely declined the High Lords offer to sit up here.
His teeth grazed your neck, all thoughts vanishing from your mind.
You felt the hand on your ankle move up ever so slightly, a smile against the skin of your neck. “My Lord,” you breathed out, trying to regain some sense of self. “This is highly inappropriate.”
He answered by biting down where your shoulder and neck met, eliciting a loud gasp from you. Your mind went blank, the only thought in there was of him doing that again, again. “Do you think I care?” He drawled out, sinking another bite into your skin. The hand on your leg moved steadily up, passing over your knee. You were going to burst into flame.
“ENOUGH!” A voice bellowed through the room, ripping you out of the haze of lust the High Lord had created. You turned to see your father striding up the steps to the throne, anger visible on every inch of his body. You moved to jump away from the High Lord, mortified. His grip tightened on your waist, keeping you there.
“Why do you think it’s acceptable to barge up here and raise your voice at your High Lord?” His voice was cold, flat. He was annoyed with your father. You felt a shiver of fear run through you at what he would do, at what they both may do.
Your father scoffed. “When he is defiling my daughter in front of any match she may make. Who do you think will take her now, after watching her whore herself out for you?” He spat his words, fists clenched tight.
“Hmm.” The High Lord mused, pressing a soft kiss to your jaw. “She didn’t seem to have any argument.”
“She wasn’t raised to argue, she was raised to wed an acceptable match! If you have no intention of being her betrothed, High Lord, then you can get your hands off her!” You wanted to shrink at your fathers words, embarrassment coursing through you.
“And who’s to say I don’t plan to wed her?” The High Lord spoke, voice commanding the attention of everyone in the room. You stiffened on his lap, digesting the words he just said.
“What are you saying?” Your father demanded, his voice inquisitive.
The High Lords hand gripped onto your thigh under your skirts, pressing kisses to your neck. “Who’s to say I don’t plan to wed your daughter? You say you want an acceptable match, am I not acceptable?” The words were cocky, teasing. He knew your father would not deny an offer like this. To marry his only daughter off to the most powerful High Lord of all time? It did not matter that everyone knew he was a cruel man, your father didn’t care about you. He cared about what it would bring to the family, what a match like this could do for him.
“Very well then, High Lord. If you are serious about wedding my daughter, let’s plan a wedding. Soon. Very soon.” Your father said, wanting to ensure a marriage before the High Lord could lose interest in you.
“Yes,” he said, waving your father off. “Now leave us, so I can celebrate this news with my bride-to-be.”
***
The wedding was set for three days time. You couldn’t deny that you scared, terrified even. Yes, the High Lord was a beautifully handsome man. You could certainly do worse in that regard. But he was cruel. Now that you were due to marry, your mother set to teaching you all there was to know about him. A large part of which included dreadful tales of the horrific acts he has done.
Your father had promised you to this?
You shouldn’t be so surprised. You knew he would marry you off to the first respectable male to look your way. You supposed any of the other males of the Hewn City wouldn’t be much better, and certainly wouldn’t come with the prestige of being the High Lords wife. You hoped that secretly he was kind, that maybe he would be a good husband.
You sighed, gazing at yourself in the mirror as the seamstresses worked around you. They were pinning delicate white fabric over your body, creating a dress that your mother decided was good enough for the High Lord. The dress was very modest, long sleeves and a high neckline. You weren’t sure this is what he would have picked, but you were not going to get into it with your mother.
A knock on the doorframe diverted your attention from the reflection in the mirror, turning to see violet eyes looking back at you. “Hello, Darling.” He drawled, stepping into the room. Your mother tittered, upset that he was seeing your dress before the wedding. The High Lord walked a slow circle around you, observing the fabric thrown over your body. “No.” He finally said, looking to your mother. “This won’t do.” She looked taken aback that he would even have an opinion, but nodded politely.
“Of course, My Lord. What would you prefer her to wear?” She asked, failing to hide her displeasure in the situation.
“Let me show you.” The High Lord replied, a teasing smile on his face. You watched as your mothers face paled at the image he broadcasted into her mind. You had learned of his Daemati powers in the onslaught of information your mother threw at you, understanding now how he was able to be inside your mind. You tried to clear your mind of the fears you were having at the thought, hoping he wouldn’t notice them.
Your mother nodded, saying; “Whatever you wish, High Lord.” She gestured for him to show the seamstresses, so they could work on the new design. In the next second the fabric was off of you, replaced with a shimmering silver. The seamstresses started pinning the dress together, turning you into an object of desire. You stared at your reflection in shock, fingers trailing over the thigh-high slits and deep v the High Lord had decided on. Your eyes shot up to find his in the mirror, the violet bright.
“Now that is what I expect the bride of the Night Court in.” His tone was teasing, the almost permanent smirk back on his face. You couldn’t tell if the shiver that ran through you was from dread or lust. Is this what your future was going to be?
***
The wedding day came much too quickly. There was a flurry of activity around you, everyone moving in a blur. You sat at the vanity, countless fae making you over. Your hair was done up, sensual makeup covered your face, and delicate silver jewelry decorated your skin. You looked in the mirror, almost not recognizing the stunning high fae looking back. This was who you should be now. Perfectly made up, as the High Lord says.
Was one evening of dark seduction worth the rest of your life?
After the deal had been made, your father had left the two of you. The High Lord had not made any further moves on you, instead whispering sweet nothings into your ears, plying you with more wine. You had felt thrilled that night, running on the feelings he was giving you and the wine you had drunk. Sober, and away from him, you were aware that you could be heading into a terrible and dangerous future.
A knock on the door tore you from your thoughts, standing as your mother entered the room. Her gaze rolled over you, taking in the delicately sexy gown on your body, the way you had been remade into a deadly beautiful queen. A perfect match for the Lord of Night. “It is time.” She finally said, lips pressed tight together. “Let us go.”
You trailed after your mother, no love shared between the two of you. To her you had fulfilled your purpose, marrying very well for the family. She did not care how deadly the High Lord was, she did not care about the horrible things he had done. He was the High Lord, and her daughter was marrying him. She had succeeded. There was no further time to be wasted on training you.
She paused before the great iron doors, turning to look you over. “If he prefers his wife to look like a whore, you’ve certainly succeeded.” She sneered, eyes judging. “Do not mess this up for us.” She looked you over one last time, scoffing at your appearance. Then she was gone.
You were alone.
Standing before the doors, about to walk through and pledge yourself to the High Lord of the Night Court for eternity. You half thought about turning and running, but where would you go? He would undoubtedly find you anywhere you went, and what would he do to you then? You felt suddenly sick, willing the thoughts away. You could do this. You held on to the little bit of hope that a kinder male lay underneath, and the doors opened before you.
You walked to the elegant march, taking in the massive crowd in front of you. All of the Hewn City was here, at least. You kept your head up, finding the High Lord at the end of the aisle. Your heart sped up at the sight of him. Damn it all, no matter what he had done he was beautiful. The most striking male you had ever seen. Your eyes moved to the side, taking in his large warriors. The General, and the Shadowsinger. They were just as dangerous as the High Lord himself.
It wasn’t like the Hewn City wasn’t full of its own dangers, however. You knew this place was a pit of Hell to others, a place where evil thrives. Perhaps a life with the High Lord would not be any worse than a life with any other male. You had been prepared for this, made to be a dutiful wife. You lifted your head higher, a demure smile appearing across your face. The right amount of excitement for a lady to show on her wedding day.
You reached the bottom of the steps, leading up to your High Lord. The General was waiting, an arm extended to assist you up. You gave him a grateful smile, noticing a secret light in his eyes. You held tight to his arm, hoping you could ground yourself before you stood in front of your soon-to-be husband. All too soon you reached the top of the stairs, the General depositing you in front of the High Lord.
“Hello, Darling.” He spoke, hand reaching out for yours. You smiled politely at him, placing your hand in his. “You look exquisite.” His eyes were smiling, different than the cunning one on his face. He held you in front of him, turning to the High Priestess next to him.
“Let us begin.”
At his command the Priestess launched into the marriage ceremony, countless prayers and vows repeated. The High Lord wrapped his fingers around yours, eyes locking to you. “I vow to be yours, and only yours, from now until forever. I vow to give you the best life, a life you have dreamed of. I vow to love you until the end of eternity, as long as the stars shine in the sky you will be mine.” You were shocked by the sincerity in his voice, the hope in his eyes.
You took a breath, beginning your end of the ceremony. “I vow to to love and serve you-“ the High Lord cut you off.
“Not the ones you were groomed to say. Speak from the heart, my darling.” His voice was soft, only able to be heard by you. You swallowed thickly, beginning again.
“I vow to do what I can to keep you happy, to keep you loved. I vow to care for you until the end of the universe, until you and I are little more than dust in the wind. I vow to be dutifully yours, for now and for always.” You were surprised by the truth behind the words, the way you felt you could do those things. The High Lord may be a male you hardly knew, but something inside was telling you it would all be okay. Call it naivety, it was all you had.
You felt a slight burn on your arm, looking down in time to see black swirls swim up to your elbow. You watched as the same swirls went up the High Lords connecting arm, bonding the two of you together. It was done. There was no going back now.
The High Priestess led a final prayer, completing the union. “High Lord, you may take your bride.”
Your cheeks colored at the wording, realizing what was in store for you. The High Lord seemed to notice the panic in your eyes, squeezing your hands reassuringly as he leaned close. “Nothing you don’t want.”, he whispered into your ear, “May I kiss you?” You nodded, one of his hands coming up to cup your face while the other settled on your waist. His lips pressed gently to yours, lightning flowing through your body. He was delicious. He was everything.
All too quickly he pulled away, turning you to face the court. “You shall kneel,” he commanded, a mischievous look on his face. He looked at you one last time, smiling as big as can be.
“Kneel, in front of your High Lady.”
***
High Lady. High Lady. High Lady. The title circled around your mind again and again, the stunned silence of the Court after he announced it deafening. Yet they had kneeled, all of them. They had bowed down to you.
You sipped your wine, wanting this celebration to be over. You did not know where you would go after this, but you were tired of the looks being shot your way. Judgement, anger, shock, fear. The High Lord had declared you as his equal, as deadly and dangerous as he. You turned to him, your husband, beginning; “My Lord-“ He stopped you.
“Rhysand, darling. Please.” He said, his hand laying gently over yours. You nodded, still not sure how to approach him.
“Rhysand,” you tested the name on your tongue, “how much longer must we stay?” You hoped the question didn’t come off as rude, you were just exhausted from the day.
He laughed.
“We can leave whenever you would like. Just say the word.” He squeezed your hand. You weren’t used to choice being given to you.
“May we leave now?” You bit your lip, awaiting his answer.
“As you wish.” He whispered, before dark wind enveloped the two of you.
You stumbled at the landing, looking around. Your eyes shot to Rhsyands, confusion visible in every inch of your face. He smiled, leading you to the balcony overlooking the glittering city below.
“Welcome to Velaris.”
***
He gave you your own room, leaving you alone that night. There was too much new information to decipher. Velaris. Rhysand. He wasn’t the cruel, dark thing that prowled the Hewn City. He had his real court up here, this magical place. You felt betrayed, you felt embarrassed, and you were in awe. Your mind and your heart were arguing, caught in a war between sense and emotion. How could he have such a perfect existence up here, leaving you to suffer in the Hewn City? You knew a wide majority of the citizens down there were cunning and evil, sure to destroy this place. But not all. You had met a few friends down there, a few kind souls. Not everyone who was raised in that Hell was a part of it.
You sat in front of the vanity, burying your face in your hands. Rhysand had done everything to protect the citizens of Velaris, while at the same time cursing those in the Hewn City. You knew if you had grown up here, this whole marriage would have never been. No parent in Velaris would force their child into an eternal union, certainly not one with a male all believed was evil and cruel.
You pulled your face out of your hands, looking at your reflection. You looked identical to the way you had before the ceremony, and like you had lived a thousand lives since. You sighed, beginning to remove the countless pins in your hair.
What had you done?
***
Rhysand sent for you bright and early the next day. If you were being honest, you had no interest in seeing him. Unfortunately, the obedient part of you made you go. You rose, dressing in the silky pants and top he has set out for you. Was he to dress you for all eternity?
You rubbed sleep from your eyes as you headed into the dining room, thankful to see it was just him. He gave you a cautious smile, reading your emotions all too well. “Hungry?” he asked, patting the seat next to him. You said nothing, but sat as he wished. He started piling food on your plate, decedent breads and fruits. You were the furthest thing from hungry, but in the nature of submission you began to bite at a strawberry.
Rhysand sighed from next to you, sorrow filling his face. “You do not understand the choices I have to make.” He said, his voice tired. You hummed in agreement, not yet willing to speak to him. He allowed the silence to grow, waiting for you to break it.
After a bit of terribly awkward breakfast, you stood from the table. “I am done. Thank you.”, you finally said, turning to walk from the room.
“Wait!” He called out, grabbing your wrist. “Please let me explain.” His voice was a whisper, a plea.
As hurt as you were, the soft part of your heart won. “Fine. Explain.” You said, trying to ignore the way your skin felt on fire under his touch.
“Come.” He said, pulling you behind him. He took you back to the balcony you had arrived on last night, standing proud over its city.
You wanted to cry at how peaceful it was.
Rhysand saw this, his grip on your wrist loosening. “I understand why you may be upset with me,” he began, your eyes snapping to his. “The Hewn City is a dark place. It is a place no good heart should ever be. When I saw you at the ball, I knew you didn’t belong there. I felt-“ he stopped himself, shaking his head. “Never mind. I know not all of the Hewn City is evil, though it is not easy to find those truly good in there. My cousin, Mor, you know she came from there.” You nodded, knowing well of The Morrigan. You were not yet born when she left the city, but the tales of what happened to her were used to scare young ladies into submission.
“I wish you had never suffered down there. I wish I had found you sooner.” His hand rose as of to cup your face, dropping to his side as he thought better of it. He looked at you expectantly, pleading for you to speak.
“I was not raised to care for what is fair or not,” you started, turning to look back over Velaris. “I was raised to behave, to respect everyone around me. I gave up on hoping for a better life many years ago, understanding this was the way fate had meant it.” Your hands gripped on to the balcony in front of you.
“And yet, I stand here now and overlook this paradise of yours.” You spat out, decades of anger rising. “This home you have had this whole time, knowing what it is like down there.” You turned to look at him, shame visible on his face. “What kind of a High Lord are you, then? Are you the kind and gracious one the people of Velaris believe you to be, or are you the cruel one the people of the Hewn City know you to be?” You watched your words stab into him, his eyes flaring with anger at them.
“You have no idea what I have done to keep them safe.” Rhysand said, his voice deadly.
You scoffed. “And what have you done to keep the innocents of the Hewn City safe?”
“I have rescued you! You could thank me, you should thank me!” He roared, looking like he wished to take the words back immediately.
You stood in front of him, cold and strong. “You may have taken me from there now,” you said, voice calm. “But you did not save me. I needed to be saved fifty years ago, Rhysand. Do you not see how they have broken me? How they have primed me into their perfect little servant? I was raised to be a dutiful wife. If that is what you want, I can fulfill you. Do not ask any more of me than that, for I fear I will only disappoint.” The emotion began to choke you, coming out of nowhere.
You didn’t know who you were. You had nothing, the only thing you knew was to be an obedient slave, catering to the will of everyone else.
You turned and ran, leaving your husband standing on the balcony.
***
You were embarrassed by your outburst. It has gone against everything you were taught, a lady should never argue with her husband. You couldn’t explain where the confidence to speak to him like that came from, the anger that shook your body. You stayed in your room the rest of the day, hiding away until it was late at night.
You crept out of your room once you were sure everyone was asleep, heading to your best guess of where the kitchen may be. You stilled as you hear voices the further you got down the hall, Rhysands and an unknown female. You knew it was wrong to spy on him, that he could easily catch you.
That didn’t stop you from sneaking closer to the room you heard the voices coming from.
“You know it is a dark place, Rhys. I do not understand why you are so shocked.” The female said, annoyance lacing her tone. You reached the room they were in, peering through the crack in the door. Your breath caught as you realized it was his cousin, The Morrigan. The one from all those stories. She stood strong, beautiful blonde hair cascading down her back. A power radiated from her, a sign of what she had overcome. You tore you gaze from her to observe your husband. He looked tired, a sense of sadness coming from him.
“I didn’t expect her to be so angry here. I saw her there, that night, and it clicked. I didn’t think that I wasn’t saving her,” he scoffed at his own words, “but condemning her to a life knowing she hadn’t needed to suffer. That I allowed her to suffer down there. Who else have I forsaken?” His hand rubbed over his eyes, exhausting evident.
His cousin walked closer to him, setting a hand on his arm. “It is a big adjustment,” she spoke softly, “coming from there to here. The realization that evil isn’t all the world has to offer you. She will come around. Your heart may be foolish, but not without a good cause.” She gave a soft laugh, turning to the door. You jumped, knocking into the wall. They both turned to look, not that you saw. You were already running the rest of the way to the kitchen, hoping you could whip up something quick enough they wouldn’t suspect you.
You were watching the pot boil when a sound came from being you. You whipped around, holding the ladle like a weapon in front of you.
Rhysand laughed.
You turned back to the stove, not wanting to get into it with him. You stiffened when you felt his presence at your back, his breath fanning over your neck. You were beginning to despise the way your body reacted to him.
“What are you making?” He asked, looking over your shoulder.
“Soup.” You answered, not wanting to open the way for more conversation. You felt the way he shrunk against your back, his typically cocky attitude gone. You sighed, speaking without turning to him. “Would you like some?”
You didn’t miss the way he tensed against you, a hand coming to rest lightly on your waist. “Oh, no. No, you should eat up. I know you haven’t had food since breakfast.”
You hated the way you wanted to sink into his touch. You nodded, resuming your stirring. A soft silence settled between the two of you, not quite uncomfortable. You turned the stove off, reaching up to grab a bowl. Your shirt rose with you, exposing the skin Rhysands hand laid on. You pushed the feeling rising in you down, refusing to submit to its greedy need.
“I’m so sorry.” He whispered suddenly, lips brushing your shoulder as he spoke. “I saw you that night, and any rational thought left me. When your father approached to yell about marriage, I latched onto it. I never took your feelings into account. I never thought how hard this may be for you. I will never force you to stay here, please know.” His grip tightened on your waist, like his body didn’t agree with his words.
“I’m sorry too.” You said after a few moments, breathing unsteady at his proximity. “I do not understand why you made the choice to keep these courts separate, yet. I am sure I will as time goes on. I would like to help get the others out, the good ones. If you would allow me.” You were about to turn to take your bowl to the table when his lips connected to the bare skin at the bottom of your neck. He was gentle in his kisses, each one placed almost lovingly.
“You are the High Lady. What you say goes.” He whispered against your skin, the hand on your waist sliding to your stomach, pressing you close to him. You gave a breathy sigh as he lightly sucked a sensitive spot on your neck, your body hot. “I can’t control myself around you.” His words were heated, the hand on your stomach drifting to play with your waistband. His other hand came up to to cup your face, turning your head towards his. “Say something.” He whispered, desperation in his tone.
You sucked in a deep breath, mind clouded with desire. “Kiss me.” you breathed out, wanting the taste of him. He wasted no time in pressing his lips to yours, starting out slow. Your bowl of soup was left on the stove, forgotten as his mouth attacked yours. His tongue slid between your lips, the sensation sending fire through you. You had never been kissed, never been touched, aside from some lonely nights alone. His hand slid under your waistband, tracing the lace detailing on your underwear. You groaned, leaning into him. “Please don’t stop.” You gasped out, shocking yourself.
He smiled against your lips, his fingers sliding the fabric to the side to swipe through your wetness. “Darling girl, all for me?” Rhysand teased, a finger coming to deftly swirl your clit. You moaned loudly, the feeling so much better than anything you’ve ever done. He sucked in a sharp breath at the noise, quickening his movements ever so slightly. “I need to hear that again.” He said, pressing a bruising kiss to your lips. He slid his finger down, dipping it inside of you. You arched against him, another moan falling from your lips. Rhysand pulled away from you, watching the way your eyes were fluttered closed in desire. “That’s it,” he urged, pressing kisses to your jaw. “Moan for me.” His words were unraveling you just as quick as his fingers, pushing two deep inside you. He moved his hand so his thumb could come up and swirl around your clit, orgasm building inside you. He bit down on your neck as he thrusted his fingers hard, reaching exactly where you needed him. You cried out, hand gripping onto his arm. You forgot where you were, your name, everything expect for him.
“Rhysand, please,” You moaned, him smiling against your neck as he sped up his movements. You were seconds away from finishing, moan after moan falling from your lips. With one final bite to your neck and a particularly harsh swipe across your clit, you came with a scream. His fingers rode you through it, prolonging your pleasure until you were a shaking mess in his arms. He held you as you cooled down, sliding his hand out of your pants.
“Are you okay, my darling?” He asked softly, turning you to face him. You nodded, mind still hazy. He pressed soft kisses to your cheeks, leading you over to sit at the table. He brought you your slightly cooled down soup, feeding you the first bite himself. “You need to eat.” He commanded, handing you the spoon. You ate as he said, body doing whatever he wanted. Rhysand watched as you ate the whole bowl, smiling with satisfaction when you were done. “Good girl.” He cooed, his words reigniting the heat in your stomach. He helped you up, leading you to your room. He tucked you into bed, pressing a sweet kiss to your lips.
“Rest, my love. We have much to discuss tomorrow.”
***
You dreamed of him that night. Of his kisses, his touches. You dreamed of what else that mouth could do, of what it would feel like to fully have him. You woke up hot and aroused, bones aching with need. Embarrassment rushed over you, how had he undone you so completely with just one night?
You dressed quickly, rushing out of your room before you lost your nerve. You went down to the dining room, knowing it was likely the others would be there. You couldn’t hide from them forever, you had decided. You had to make the most of the situation you found yourself in.
You entered the dining room, conversation halting at the sight of you. Five pairs of eyes looked back at you, the attention making you want to turn and run. Instead you held your head high, sitting down next to Rhysand. You cocked your head at him as you took in his amused smile, self consciously touching your face. Howling laughter broke the silence, your head whipping to see the General. “Rhys! You dirty dog!” he laughed, slamming his fist onto the table. You looked back to Rhysand, eyes questioning him.
His fingers came up to your neck, tracing the bite marks he had left last night. Oh. You had completely forgotten about them as your face flushed, tears threatening to spill with your embarrassment. Rhysand tucked his hand under your chin, pulling you to look at him. “Do not shy away, darling. Cassian here has shown up to breakfast far worse than this.” He shot a warning glance to the general, telling him to back off. You were still new to this kind of world.
Cassians laughter drifted off, turning to tease the Shadowsinger about something that had happened in training that morning. Rhysand brought his head close to yours, pressing a light kiss to your lips. “Ignore him. He’s just a great big brute.” You let out a small giggle at his words, not used to anyone speaking so freely. You turned to the food in front of you, gathering what you thought may taste good. You were ravenous, the soup from last night hardly lasting.
As breakfast began to wind to a close, Rhysand turned to you. “These are my friends,” he began, gesturing to the table. “Cassian, Azriel, Amren, and Mor.” He nodded to each as he said their name, your eyes stopping on The Morrigan. She took in your wide eyed gaze, a soft sigh falling from her lips.
“They still tell you what happened to me? Try to scare you from standing up to them?” She rolled her eyes. “Pointless, if you ask me. As you can clearly see, i’m doing better than ever.” She sent you a wicked smile, a promise of what life can be like outside the Hewn City.
With breakfast finished, the others departed to their daily tasks. Rhysand stayed with you, taking in the light color on your cheeks. “Sleep well?” he teased, a hand coming to rest on your thigh. You cleared your throat, jumping a little at the contact.
“Slept great.” You said, standing abruptly from the table. His eyes followed you, full of amusement.
“It is okay to feel desire.” He said, voice quiet. You felt like you would be eternally embarrassed here. You nodded, moving to leave the room. He caught you, turning you to him.
“Hey,” he spoke softly, hand holding the side of your face. “Do not be embarrassed. We won’t speak of it anymore if you wish.” He pressed a gentle kiss to your lips, your body ready to melt into his touch. “Come,” he said, pulling you to the balcony. “I’m going to show you Velaris.”
***
You failed to hide your shock when your husband produced great big wings from his back. He smiled at your face, watching as you stuck out a hand to touch them. Your fingers brushed against the soft leather, a groan escaping Rhysand. He gently grabbed your hand, pulling it away from his wing before picking you up in his strong arms. “Later.” He promised, shooting off into the sky.
You prepared for the fear to rush over you, but awe took instead. You threw your head back, relishing in the feeling of the wind in your hair. You laughed, Rhysands hold tightening against you. He smiled at your joy, pleased at seeing you happy. The flight took a little longer than normal, not that you knew that. He was enjoying your happiness too much, not wanting it to end quite yet.
When you touched down in Velaris, you were stunned into silence. The city was even more beautiful down here. “Rhysand,” you spoke, “it’s beautiful.” He smiled down at you, placing your arm in his elbow.
“Yes, you are.” He said, so quietly you almost didn’t hear it. “You can call me Rhys, you know. Thats what I go by to those closest to me.” You gave him a matching smile, squeezing his arm.
“Okay, Rhys. Where to?”
***
You spent the day walking through Velaris, Rhys showing you his favorite spots. You stopped for lunch at a divine little café, a moan escaping you when you bit into the chocolate croissant. The food here was all so delicious.
After a long day of walking around, Rhys flew you back up the house on the mountain. He showed you around there too, ending the tour in his study. He watched as you made yourself comfortable on his sofa, contentment on your face.
“Are you happy here?” He asked, pulling you from the sleep that was threatening to overtake you. You sat up, turning to him.
“I can see myself being happy here, yes. I think I am happy now.” You mused, reflecting over the day you had.
His next question was softer. “Can you be happy with me?” There was a vulnerability in his eyes, something you hadn’t seen before.
You stood, walking over to him and sitting on his lap. “Yes, Rhys. I can be very happy with you.” You kissed him, a hand coming to rest on his neck. His arms circled your waist, holding you tight. You felt this insatiable pull to be with him, to be around him. You felt like you were almost a part of him.
You stayed like that for a while longer, kissing and talking. You stayed with him until you laid your head on his chest, sleep finally taking over. You felt safe, cared for, and protected. You felt like you belonged.
***
You were a little dismayed when you opened your eyes, finding yourself back in your bed. Alone. You pushed off the feeling, certain Rhys didn’t want to assume. You jumped out of bed, excitement taking over. You had planned to do something special for the High Lord today, as a thank you for the day he gave you yesterday. You pulled on a dress, rushing from your room.
You headed to the kitchen, hoping the house had the ingredients you needed. You were pleased when you opened the cupboard to just what you were looking for, pausing for a second to remember the magic coursing through the building. You baked all morning, perfecting the chocolate croissant from yesterday. This was what you had been raised for, to cook and please your husband. Maybe not everything you were taught was useless.
***
You bagged up the finished croissants just like they did at the café, hurrying off to find Rhys. You found him in his study, just like yesterday. “I have something for you.” You said, trying not to let the excitement spill out. He looked up, greeting you with a smile.
“And what is that?” He asked, eyes bright. You pulled the little parcel out from behind your back, setting them down in front of him. He looked at you curiously, opening the bag and inhaling the rich chocolate scent.
“The croissants we had yesterday.” You explained, suddenly feeling a bit foolish. He probably had had those a million times, a typical snack to the High Lord. His smile grew as he pulled one out, taking a bite.
“These are my favorite in Velaris.” He said, taking another bite. “Who flew you down there to get them?” He asked, distracted by the dessert in his hands.
You smiled broadly, thrilled that you pulled it off so well. You watched as he finished the first one, reaching for the second. “No one,” you said teasingly, “I made them.”
Rhysands hand stopped, croissant halfway to his mouth. “What did you say?” He asked, voice deadly serious. You were confused at his reaction, not expecting him to be so upset.
“I made them? Is that okay, I-“ You stopped as stood up abruptly, his hands digging into the desk in front of him.
“Darling,” he said, voice shaking, “have you noticed anything between us?” You looked at him in confusion, not sure what he was talking about.
“What do you mean?” You asked, crossing your arms in front of you.
“I mean, have you felt any sort of pull towards me. One that feels like an outside force is tying you to me, making you need me.” His voice was restrained, his pupils blown wide. You couldn’t help the heat rising in you at his look.
“Oh, well, yea. I thought it was just how you felt with your husband, a constant tug from my heart to yours. It began at our wedding.” Your cheeks heated under his gaze.
“Darling,” he spoke slowly, “That’s the mating bond.”
Your mind was blank.
“That’s why I was drawn to you that night at the ball. It snapped for me the second I saw your face. I took your fathers demand of marriage easily, knowing you were the one made for me. I had only known you an hour, and was already willing to do anything to be with you.” The passion in his voice had your thighs clenching together, lust beginning to overtake your body.
“I wasn’t sure if you had felt it too, waiting until you did. Then, you show up here, feeding me a dessert you made.” He gave a dark chuckle. “Do you realize what you have done?”
You stared at him in shock, understanding written on your face. You had accepted the mating bond, the bond you hadn’t even realized. Rhys walked around his desk, turning you to lean against it. “You need to tell me to stop now if you don’t want this.” He whispered against your lips, hands gripping your hips.
Your breathing was fast, but your mind had finally cleared. “I don’t want you to stop.”
His lips crashed against yours, setting a bruising pace. He picked you up, sitting you on the desk as he stepped between your legs. He groaned into the kiss, your hands tangling in his hair. “Fuck, darling,” he growled against you, kissing down your neck. “I need to taste you.”
Rhys dropped to his knees in front of you, lifting the skirts of your dress. He reached up, ripping the underwear in half as he pulled it off you. You gave a cry of protest, a cry that quickly changed to pleasure as he licked up you. “I’ll buy you new ones.” he growled against you, tongue circling your clit. He raised your legs to rest on his shoulders, his hands gripping your thighs hard enough to leave bruises. You moaned as his tongue explored you, grabbing onto his hair as he worked you. “You’re delicious.” He spoke against you, tongue thrusting in and out. You moaned his name in response, begging for more. One hand came to slide his fingers into you, his lips attaching to your clit. He sucked harshly, his fingers curling inside of you. You threw your head back in a silent scream, already on the brink of release. “My perfect girl.” Rhys murmured against you, the words tipping you over. You came with a scream, thighs tightening around his head. He licked you through it, your body beginning to shake with overstimulation before he pulled away.
You grabbed his face, pulling it up to you so you could kiss him. You tasted yourself on his lips, moaning into his mouth. “I need you, Rhys.” you gasped out, hand trailing to undo his pants. His head fell to your shoulder, a groan coming from him as you slid him out. You traced your hand up and down him, amazed at his size.
“No teasing, darling. Not tonight.” He growled, biting your shoulder. He brought his face up to yours, pulling you closer to the edge of the desk. “Ready?” He asked, lining himself up with you. You nodded, hand on his shoulder to brace yourself. He started pushing in, inch by brutal inch. You bit your lip, adjusting to his size.
“Rhys,” you moaned as he bottomed out, letting you adjust around him. “I need you to move.” He didn’t give a second to think, pulling almost all the way out before thrusting back into you. Hard. You cried out, kissing him again. “Fuck, my love.” you said, arching into him as he hit that perfect spot inside you. He brought a hand down to circle your clit again, heightening your pleasure. You knew you wouldn’t last long, not with the feel of him inside of you. Your second orgasm was approaching far too quickly, crying out as the pleasure overtook your body.
“That’s it, that’s it.” Rhys murmured, kissing you to silence the cries falling from your lips. You were shaking from the two back to back orgasms, certain you were going to rip into two. Rhys didn’t stop his fingers, bringing your pleasure up again. “I know you can take one more, darling. I want you to finish with me.” You whined against him, body exhausted. His thrusts were still hitting you deliciously, his name falling from your lips like a prayer. “So close, my darling. So close.” Rhys breathed against you, his thrusts becoming messy. His fingers worked you hard as he came, spilling deep inside you. You followed him, screaming his name as you clamped down upon him. He brought you back up to kiss him, working the two of you through your orgasms.
After what felt like an endless wave of pleasure, Rhys slowly stilled his movements. You were breathing hard against him, the room spinning around you. He slowly pulled out, resting his forehead against yours. He scooped your tired body into his arms, carrying you across the hall to his room. You were tucked into the bed, Rhys sidled up next to you. You fell asleep against his chest, feeling whole for the first time in your life.
***
You were awoken by a loud banging at the door early the next morning, rubbing sleep from your eyes. Rhys groaned from next to you, grumbling as he slid out of bed and pulled his pants on. He opened the door to reveal Cassian, a smirk on his face. “As happy as I am for the two of you, am I subjected to listening to you fuck for the next week?” He asked, eyes roving over your body. Rhys took note of his gaze, grabbing onto the neck of his friend.
“Look at her like that again, and you have to listen to me fuck her for the next year.” He growled, shoving his friend out of the room. You heard Cassians laughter as he walked down the hallway, Rhys coming back to you. He crawled on top of you, kissing you slowly.
“Shall we give him a show?”
***
Thank you for your patience on this!!!! It diverted from a true “forced marriage” trope, so I will probably use that again for a different character. I really like how this one turned out though!!
As always, please give me all your feedback. I appreciate you all SOOO MUCH <3
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Deal or no deal
Azul x gn!reader
finally writing for my baby boy azul, i can't believe it took this long since i am an azul girlie myself
a very funny silly definitely innocent business man methinks
"First, tell me what you desire. We can take it from there." Azul smiled slyly, interlocking his hands as he leaned on his elbows.
You were currently located in his private office, about to sign a contract with him. You had to think long and hard about coming to him, but you figured that if anyone can fulfill your wish, it would be Azul. You feel kind of guilty asking him for this in the first place.
You see, you've been in love with Azul for a good amount of time now, but are too afraid to make a move. You beat yourself up for being such a coward every day, and even moreso right now because you're about to ask him if he can make "someone you've had your eye on" fall in love with you. You're not sure what exactly he does to make it happen, but you hope it's doable without much instructions on your end. Desperate times call for desperate measures.
Though you still feel like a bit of a villain for doing this at all.
Your guilt and nerves are probably showing in your body language, too. Which you suppose only makes Azul more interested in learning what you desire. You can practically feel the grins on the Leech twin's faces, too. It's like they genuinely like seeing you nervous and scared.
Why are they even here, anyways?
"I want... someone to fall in love with me. Someone who I've had my eye on for a while now." you fidget with your fingers, unable to look Azul in the eye when you say this.
"That's..." he tried his best to hold back from laughing but a snort escaped from his lips anyways. "Forgive the reaction, your wish was just... unexpected."
You suppose he thought your wish would be more sinister because of your body language. Or way more embarrasing. But still...
"Ehhhh, I didn't know Shrimpy was in love..." Floyd's eyes were slightly widened but his creepy grin was still as wide as ever. "It is quite surprising, indeed." Jade added on. By the suspicously calm way they're acting, you have no idea if the twins already know about your little crush and are just acting along or if they're actually surprised.
"Yeah, uhhh, I guess that's it?..." you had no idea what else to tell him. You just hope that this can be over as soon as possible since things are getting really awkward.
"I can certainly do something for you. Tell me, what is their name? They attend this school, I assume." Azul seemed delighted. Probably because that means he'll get free labour from you as a collateral. You don't have any magic to offer him, after all.
"T... their name? Is that required?" You froze up. There's no way you can say that. That would be the worst way for your feelings to get outed, ever. You suppose it makes sense, though. He can't do anything if he doesn't know who you're in love with.
"But of course it is. Don't worry, judgement has no place in business affairs." He smiled reassuringly at you. You felt your face heat up. No, no, nope. You can't do this. Not like this.
"You know what.... Never mind. I can't do it." You abruptly stood up from the cushy office chair, apologising curtly before practically bolting out of his office.
"Oh my god, that was so bad... oh my god..." you mumbled to yourself when you were out of Octavinelle. You just royally embarrased yourself in front of your crush.
Was it obvious?
.
"What was that about?" Floyd pouted at the direction of the door, which you left slightly ajar in your panic to escape the situation as soon as possible.
"Hmmm... how odd." Jade looked deep in thought about something.
"This is why I tell you to stop coming to my office when I'm trying to make a deal. You scared the poor thing off." Azul shook his head dissaprovingly.
"That wasn't our fault. Shrimpy was acting super weird the whole time anyways." Floyd defended himself and his brother.
"I suppose you're right..." Azul took a deep breath, seemingly... relieved? Not about the fact you ran away, but still relieved for some reason.
Jade made a realisation. "Oh. I see. I see."
He smiled knowingly at Azul, who raised a brow. "What is it? Is there something on my face?"
"No, it's nothing. Don't worry."
Azul gets the feeling that Jade knows something, but doesn't want to tell him.
"If you say so."
#˗ˏˋ ★ ♡ 「Wolfie’s other works」 ♡ ★ ˎˊ˗#twst x reader#twst x y/n#twst x you#twst x yuu#twst x mc#twisted wonderland x you#twisted wonderland x reader#twisted wonderland x yuu#twisted wonderland x mc#azul x reader#azul x yuu#azul x mc#azul ashengrotto x yuu#azul ashengrotto x mc#azul ashengrotto x reader
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finally found you
gif not mine!
tech x f! reader
wc: 910
warnings: faked death and hidden pregnancy, that should be it.
takes place after s2 e13
tech x f!reader
~after the sea surge~
Every citizen on Pabu was safe. Among those citizens was you and your twins. You helped out the best you could while carrying them. You heard Phee returned so you were looking for her while assisting everyone. You heard your name being called, turning to see Phee.
“I’ve been looking for you all night sugar” She says grabbing your face before kissing the twins on their heads. “Give me one and come meet my friends” she grabs your daughter Selene from you. As you walk with her chatting. Selene babbled along. You look up to see a face you’d never expect to see again.
“Tiny is that you? or am I going crazy?” Wrecker asks leaning down to hug you tightly. You had to stop him, so he didn’t crush Apollo.
“I would love a hug Wreck, but little guy back here isn’t ready for one of your hugs” you say showing him your son who was sleeping on your shoulder.
“You have a kid?!” He asked shocked. You point to Selene in Phee’s hands.
“I have two. It’s why I left actually” you admit sheepishly. He hollers for Hunter and Tech. Hunter immediately recognizes you as does Tech.
“Sarad? There’s no way, you’re supposed to be dead” Hunter gets ready to scold you lovingly before noticing Apollo. Phee hands Selene back to you, telling you she’s going to help Shep.
“Surprise” You say cradling Selene close to you.
“You have kids?” Tech asks raising his brows. Selene’s wild curls were the same color as Tech’s hair. Apollo’s curls matched your hair. Hunter quickly figured it out just waiting for his brother to figure it out.
“Yeah, I do. Well, it was lovely seeing you boys, but I must get going” You started to walk away until you heard your name again. Turning to see Omega. You hand Selene to Hunter quickly before pulling the blonde girl into your arms.
“I have missed you so much” her eyes begin to tear up. “I was so worried when you stopped showing up to the lab. Especially after the last time” She said before burying your face in your shirt.
“I have missed you too. Please meet Selene and Apollo” you say gesturing to your twins. As you let her go from the hug, her hand remained in yours. “Would you like to hold one of them?” you ask, and she nods. You let her grab Apollo who was now showing his brown eyes off to the world. Hunter seemed to be enjoying holding Selene as she giggles toying with his hair. Tech pulled you away for a moment, making sure you could still see the twins.
“How old are they?” he asked, not wanting his voice to betray him.
“They’ll be two next week” you answer not looking at him. His gloved hands reach for yours giving them a squeeze. It was what he used to do to get your attention.
“Is there a reason you did not tell me?” his voice cracking. Emotions were hard for him, this was the moment that he let them win.
“You were a soldier Tech. The Kaminoans would have taken them from me. Nala Se and Omega protected me by getting me off Kamino. I couldn’t say goodbye, I couldn’t let anyone know who the father was. You were not going to get decommissioned because of me.” you answer him finally meeting his eyes. “Master Plo was able to help me leave the order we told the council I was killed in action to make it easy” you added on.
“We mourned you. We hated ourselves because you ‘died’ in action without us by your side” he was expressing his anger, and you weren’t going to stop him. He deserved this moment. “You went through your pregnancy and motherhood alone during the last two years. I appreciate that you chose to consider my feelings. I would have done whatever to be there for you” he finished.
“I’m sorry Tech. I didn’t want to hurt you or the others. I sorry that I made this choice without talking to you. I’m not asking you to forgive me, at least let me introduce you to them properly. You can decide if you want to stay after” your voice was desperate. You had no right to ask him to do anything, but it would make you feel better if he met them properly.
“I would love nothing more” He took your hand leading you through the crowd back to his brothers and sister.
“Tech this is Apollo” you grab your son from Wrecker handing him to Tech. “And this is Selene” Omega hands her to you. The smile on Tech’s face made your heart swell. The way he held Apollo with care made you smile. He wrapped his free arm around you pulling you into his side.
“Dada” Apollo babbled touching Tech’s face. The others watched in awe as their normally logical brother melt into a puddle.
“Dada” Selene mimics her brother reaching for Tech also.
“Looks like were staying on Pabu” Hunter says cracking a smile.
“I have enough room in my home” you tell them. Omega’s arms went around your waist talking about her excitement that they get to stay. You place a kiss on Tech’s cheek causing him to get flustered.
“I believe I deserve a real kiss.” Tech says leaning down kissing your lips like it was the first time all over again.
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- why am I still writing pages? -
prompt: “but if the story’s over, why am I still writing pages?”
pairing: charles leclerc x reader
summary: you and your teammate are cursed by a case of right person, wrong time. but a crash makes you both reconsider everything.
warnings: implications of sex and mentions of a crash, but nothing explicit.
a/n: lyrics of course from track #16 death by a thousand cuts by taylor swift
masterlist | the spotify wrapped collection
you knew it had been a bad idea.
right from the start, the voice in the back of your head was screaming at you not to do this. this was the only way it ever could’ve ended, and yet at the same time… you knew it would never end. not properly.
you could tell you and charles would get along from the moment you met; faces cracking into grins when you caught his eye across the debrief room, turning into whispers in ears about gossip from the rest of the grid, turning into subtle touches on the shoulder, on the knee, on the curve of your back as he passed by. you could feel yourself falling, even though you were trying so hard not to. and how could you not? he was charming, funny, handsome, and something about his unwavering determination, his dedication and commitment and loyalty to his team, to his dream, captured you in ways you never imagined anything could.
the first kiss was inevitable, a moment in his drivers room full of so much tension that you left to head to the first free practice session suspiciously breathless. the two of you danced around labelling whatever it was going on between you, until eventually there was no point pretending anymore; neither of you were interested in pursuing anybody else but each other.
but you were drivers. and drivers were competitive, and ambitious, and separating your off-track relationship from your on-track relationship…? let’s just say that difficult was an understatement.
“they told me what you said on the radio.”
charles had looked up, the irritation that had been on his face giving way to surprise as you appeared in the entrance of his drivers room. usually when you came to visit his drivers room the door was locked behind you, and when it reopened half an hour later you had to check the corridor to make sure no one saw you emerge with your hair a mess, cheeks flushed and your shirt still half unbuttoned. but this wasn’t one of those times. the tension in the air was not the welcome kind.
“what?” charles had the audacity to pretend to not to know what you were talking about.
“‘y/n’ is such a fucking idiot. what is she doing?’ don’t pretend you didn’t say it.” you replied. even having to repeat the words felt like a knife in your chest. you’d been fighting for a podium, and your defending had been a little… aggressive, more so than it probably should’ve been considering charles was your teammate. and your partner. charles sighed, dragging a hand down his face.
“I’m sorry. you know what it’s like out there. we all say things in the moment that we don’t really mean.” he apologised gently, weary eyes searching yours for any sign you forgiveness. you hummed in response, the anger that had built in you as you’d marched down the corridor from the garage to his drivers room dissipating the longer you had to process it. charles held his arms out to you, and you let out a sigh as you knew that you would forgive him, crawling into his lap as he murmured apologies into your ear.
it hadn’t been that incident that had caused your relationship to break down. it had been an accumulation of all the times that followed, all the little comments and digs over the radio about each other when you were fighting on track. it was the way the media continually pitted you against each other, the two of you constantly leap-frogging each other in the drivers standings, rumours of renewing of contracts and in-team fighting that eventually became all consuming and impossible to ignore. when charles had looked at you with a face like thunder that masked the true pain he felt, telling you he didn’t think he could do this anymore, you couldn’t find any reason to argue. to fight what was happening. maybe this was just right person, wrong time, you’d agreed. maybe in another life.
it had hurt, but at least you’d remained friends, even if it was only due to the forced proximity that came from driving for the same team every weekend. and without the added pressure of a relationship, things between you and charles actually improved, after a while. first the smiles across the room came back. and then the two of you started gossiping again, giggling at secrets that only the two of you knew, footage of you, charles and pierre laughing together during the drivers parade appearing all over social media. and then the touches, the brushing of skin, the blush creeping up into your cheeks as his fingers caught on yours as you walked side by side through the paddock. the way his knee pressed against yours during a press conference when a question came up about your crash the weekend before, the one that had had charles racing to the medical centre as soon as the race was over, almost in tears just at the sight of you.
“I came as soon as I- merde, y/n, are you okay?”
charles’ voice was shaky, his heavy breathing revealing just how quickly he’d rushed over from the garage. the race wouldn’t be restarted for at least another half an hour, the barriers requiring extensive repair work after the damage you’d caused, giving charles just enough time to come and see you.
“I’m fine, charles.” you waved him off as you pushed yourself up with a groan, “it wasn’t even that bad, I-“
“wasn’t that bad?” he cut you off, eyebrows creasing into a frown as he perched himself on the bed beside you hesitantly, cautiously, as if scared to move for fear of hurting you. “y/n, it looked… awful. for a moment I wondered-“
“I got lucky.” it was your turn to do the interrupting, not wanting charles to go down that train of thought any further. “I’m fine, I promise. a bad concussion and… everything hurts, but nothing serious.”
you’d never seen charles cry before - even when things had ended between the two of you, he’d made sure to do that in private. it broke your heart, to know he thought, if only for a moment, that he’d come so close to losing you, and you leaned forward to pull him into your arms, ignoring the ache in your limbs.
since that weekend, you and charles had fallen back into an old routine. it was dangerous, but just like that very first kiss, it had been inevitable. neither of you wanted to cross that invisible line again, both too scared of repeating past mistakes. you couldn’t afford that type of heartbreak again. but you knew your story wasn’t over. not yet.
a/n: this was becoming longer than I intended, so I might do a second part to wrap it up properly :)
#charles leclerc#charles leclerc x reader#charles leclerc x you#charles leclerc x y/n#charles leclerc imagine#f1 x reader#f1 x y/n#f1 x you#f1 imagine#f1 fic
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Livvy to Julian
Dear Julian,
You can see ghosts but you cannot see me. Not when I come to sit by you while you sleep. Not when I am in the movements of the shadows across the lawn, or the twitch of a curtain. You cannot hear me, even though I am speaking to you because I have things I need to tell you.
I want to tell you about Ty.
He was there. We were there.
You don’t know we were there.
Kit knows.
Let me start over.
You like surprises, Ty says. Ty doesn’t like surprises, but you do.
He is learning Portals, how to open them, how to close them. You need a warlock. But Ty is learning and he is getting better. He wanted to come to see you and Ragnor said he would help.
We wanted to come to see you.
Ty warned Emma, but he told her not to tell you, so it would be a surprise.
So we came through together.
A ghost travels through a Portal just like a Shadowhunter. I didn’t know that. Isn’t that funny?
Well, I thought it was funny.
The Portal opened in the kitchen.
The kitchen looks nice. I am only a spirit caught between the world and the void but I think you chose an excellent shade for the walls. You have always been so good with color.
Other than the color, which was a surprise but not a bad one, there was another surprise in the kitchen. Kit.
Kit was in the kitchen. Wearing that jacket he likes, with the fuzzy collar. The sun came through the window and lit him up.
Everything in Ty froze. Even I almost froze. I’ve seen Kit, of course. I visit him sometimes. Still because I wasn’t expecting him, it hit me how different he looks from the way he did when he lived at the Institute with us. He looks older, and taller. More muscular. He moves like a Shadowhunter now. Graceful.
He’s beautiful.
I heard Ty take a breath like he never has before. Like he was gasping for air, like he’d been sucker-punched and he was trying to breathe and trying to breathe and he couldn’t.
He whispered, “That’s not how you clean a gun.”
Sorry, I should have said before. Kit was cleaning a gun. Why would there be a gun at your house? Blackthorn Hall is like a rock. You turn it over and so many things are underneath. This time a gun was underneath.
Kit went whiter than any ghost I’ve ever seen. He dropped the gun onto the counter. And he didn’t speak. I wonder if he was wondering what I was wondering. I was wondering how Ty knew how to clean a gun. Enough to tell someone they were doing it wrong.
Maybe he just didn’t know what to say, so he said that.
After that they looked at each other.
Time is not fast or slow where I am. And yet it was long enough for me to feel like the whole world was disappearing, like there was nothing else in it except Kit and Ty looking at each other.
Kit said, “You shouldn’t be here.”
He has never spoken to me like that. With such a cold voice. He had put his hands in his pockets and his shoulders were thrust forward, like he was being aggressive, but I could see his hands in his pockets, all knotted up. I wonder if Ty saw it too. Kit’s fingers, digging and digging into themselves.
But Ty wasn’t looking at Kit. He was looking past him at the window. I could hear birds, and quiet English sounds, and Ty breathing. He said, “How long do you think it will take you to forgive me?”
Kit looked at me. He looked a little betrayed, as if somehow I had known he would be here, had planned this. But I didn’t. “I don’t know,” he said.
“But not now,” Ty said in the smallest voice.
“No,” Kit said. “Not now.”
There was no more reason to stay then.
Maybe there was a reason. Maybe it was Kit’s hands crushing in on themselves, till I thought the bones would break like hearts.
But Ty couldn’t see that. Ty was in pain. I put myself next to him, wrapped myself around him, held him while we went back through the Portal. I was sad. I wanted to see you very much, Jules. But Ty needed me to be there with him.
If you dream this, maybe you will know we were there in your house. I am sorry we didn’t stay.
Julian, I don’t know what to do. Ty misses Kit more than he thought he could miss someone. He misses him as much now as he did the day he left. He loves him the same. I think he always will and it scares me.
Kit is used to not needing people, but Ty needs people. He is afraid to need people but that is only because he needs them so much. He is not going to stop needing Kit. I don’t know if Kit will always need Ty. But Ty will always need him.
Irene says hello. I am teaching her to play dead.
I love you.
Livvy
#sobh#secrets of blackthorn hall#julian blackthorn#livvy blackthorn#ty blackthorn#kit herondale#kit x ty#irene
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❍ the 2k event: seungcheol + luxury
alternative title: what makes you happiest?
pairing: seungcheol x gn!reader
genre: non-idols au, angst, hurt/comfort, husband!cheol
word count: 1340
warnings: curse words, pet names
event taglist (send ask to be added): @slytherinshua @rubywonu @pepperonijem @amxlia-stars @weird-bookworm @hannyoontify @my-moarmy-heart @suminsfav @minhui896 @haocovr @lockburn-castle @sweet-like-caramel @horanghae8 @graybaeismytae @karionice @hopetiger10 @shuabby1994 @yonabutnotyuna @lvlystars @k-drama-adict
It’s dark when Seungcheol manages to get home, and he’s utterly exhausted.
The moment he opens the door and takes off his shoes, however, the lights flick on and he sees you standing in the hallway, arms crossed, and he sighs.
“Y/N,” he greets tiredly, standing there in the doorway. You’re here for a confrontation, and he’s not going to try and fight you on that. He’ll always give you what you want. Even in situations like this. “Hello.”
You’re in your pyjamas, the worn cotton dragging against the floor as you shift your feet, leaning on one hip. “You’re home late. Again.”
Seungcheol sighs. He’s so tired, having gone through probably a thousand meetings that day, having to reject and approve countless different projects, sitting there and unpicking and redoing all of his spreadsheets because his useless assistant was good for literally nothing. He’s late home, yes, but he’s always late, and he wonders why that’s such a big deal today.
“I know,” he says simply, rubbing his face. “Y/N, I know I’m late. Why are you up, anyway? It’s almost midnight.”
Your eyes widen, and a look of disbelief crosses your face. “Why am I up? Cheol, what about you?”
Seungcheol blinks, and then frowns. “I don’t understand. This is when I normally get home on a weekday.”
The disbelief is replaced by sadness, and anger, and upset. You bite your lips, fists clenching where you have your arms crossed, and you lean on your other leg. “And don’t you think that’s not right? Why do you think I’m up, Choi Seungcheol? Why do you think I’m here, right now, standing at the door and waiting for my husband to get home even though it’s well past midnight?”
“I… I don’t get it,” Seungcheol says, and he knows it’s the wrong thing to say because your eyes ice over and your knuckles go white. “Y/N, come on, this happens every day. Why are you so upset today?”
“Because you’re never fucking here!” you burst out, throwing your hands into the air. You scream in frustration, days and months of pent-up frustration and utter loneliness manifesting itself in a matter of seconds as you scream again, wringing your hands together.
Seungcheol flinches, surprised, but he keeps his gaze on you as you breathe heavily, eyes burning.
"I wake up every morning, and you're not there beside me. The bed is cold, Cheol, by the time I'm awake. That tells me you've been gone hours before me. Do you know how shitty that feels?" You hold up a hand when Seungcheol opens his mouth, barrelling on. "No, no, you're going to listen to me. I know you said that it's for work, that you're just so busy these days, but God forgive me if I just want to feel loved for once! You couldn't spare a minute to write me an adoring little note, to send me a text when you go, to do something to reassure me?"
Seungcheol purses his lips, willing the tears not to spill over from where they’d sprung up, startled, in his eyes. He tries to keep his voice steady as he says, “I’m sorry. I’ve been so busy.”
“I know,” you say, raking a hand through your hair, teeth gritted, trying not to scream at your husband more than you ought to. “I know that, Choi Seungcheol. But you’ve been staying out later and later, and I know it’s for work, but I barely see you these days.” You hold out your hands to him imploringly. “I just need to know you love me. I just… I feel like the Seungcheol I love doesn’t even exist anymore. And like I don’t exist to you anymore.”
Seungcheol frowns, the thought of you not knowing how much he loves you grating on his nerves. He’s still so exhausted, forcefully having to push the cogs in his brain to get them to work, but he knows that isn’t right. That he’s doing everything for you. Always for you.
He crosses his arms. “That’s not true,” he says. “Y/N, that’s not true. It’s because of me that you can have everything you want, at any time you want. It’s because of me that we have this house, the one you love so much. You can’t say that I don’t love you when I’m working my ass off every day just for you to have everything in the world.”
“Have you considered that maybe I don’t want all of this?” you spit.
“Of course you do!” Seungcheol fires back. He’s infuriated now, upset that you think so little of him. “You asked for this!”
You laugh, but the sound is high and mocking. “We really don’t know each other at all, do we, dear husband? I said I wanted all of this with you! This means jack shit to me if I don’t have you by my side! Because it’s you who I love so goddamn much!”
Seungcheol reels back, shocked.
“I don’t want a life of luxury if I can’t have it with you,” you say, and now there are tears in your eyes, glistening bright and crystal. “I just… I miss you so much, Cheol. I don’t—I’d go back to living through our college days in a heartbeat if it meant I could have you back, dream house be damned.”
You take a deep breath, and the anger drains out of you as you exhale, shoulders slumping. You look as tired as he feels.
“Sometimes, on really bad days, I don’t even see you,” you say, voice cracking. “You’re gone by the time I wake up, and I fall asleep before you get back. Do you know how lonely that is? I married you not because you’d make loads of money, but because you’re Seungcheol, and because I love you. And I—I don’t even get to see the love of my life anymore. It’s like I’m married to a ghost.”
The tears fall down your cheeks now, eyes all blurred, and you don’t even look at him, gaze fixed on some point past his shoulder, and you look so sad and broken and alone and Seungcheol realises just how much he’s been hurting you.
“Y/N,” he says softly, stepping forward, reaching for you as you collapse into the plush carpet, kneeling down in his work suit, letting you cry into his shoulder. “Y/N, my love, I’m so sorry.”
You’re trying to speak, but he won’t let you, the remorse and guilt forcing words out of his throat, trying to apologise over and over again.
“I’m so sorry, it’s all my fault,” he whispers, cradling you against him, wrapping his arms securely around you, keeping you safe in his embrace. “I’ve been inattentive, I haven’t been around enough lately, and I’m so sorry.”
“I—I just keep thinking—wh-where did we go wrong?” you manage to say, before dissolving into sobs again, shaking.
“Shh, I’m sorry,” he says, again, because there’s nothing else he can say. “I’ll make it up to you, I promise. I should have known that this was hurting you.”
You take a shuddering breath, and he hushes you gently, rocking you back and forth, your thighs wrapped around his waist as he hugs you securely, tightly.
“I just wanted you to be happy,” Seungcheol says thickly, swallowing his own tears as you cry harder. “I thought that giving you all of this would make you happy. I didn’t—I didn’t think about how you might want something else. I’m so sorry. I just wanted to make you the happiest.”
“Idiot,” you choke out into his chest. “I’m only going to be happiest if I’m with you.”
He laughs, the tears spilling over, his heart feeling so full and so empty and squeezing so wonderfully painfully as he holds you in his arms, blindly pressing his lips to the top of your head. “You’re all I need to be happy, too.”
“So stay home then, Cheol. Stay with me.”
And he does.
#fairyhaos.works#k-labels#the 2k event -- fairyhaos#svt#seventeen#seungcheol#scoups#seventeen fic#seungcheol fic#svt fic#svt seungcheol#svt x reader#seungcheol x reader#scoups x reader#choi seungcheol#seventeen x reader#seventeen seungcheol#seventeen scoups#svt scoups#svt fluff#seventeen fluff#seungcheol fluff#scoups fluff#seungcheol imagines#seventeen imagines#seungcheol au#svt au#seventeen fanfic
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You're Odio sorry on Kuai Liang x reader gave me feels bc I know the feeling of watching someone you have feelings for love someone else, leaving you to wonder what you could've done better to receive their love.
You should do a part 2 where reader finally finds love again and moves on with someone else (Smoke, Syzoth, Kenshi, etc.) which awakens something in Kuai Liang that made him realize that he also loves you but now he must live with his choices?
Recházame
Prior notes: WOAH! Did not expect someone to request something! I’m glad you enjoyed it (I think I hope i didn’t awaken something painful)! Sorry I am posting this late I had classes before and they all have a no technology policy :P so I could not sneak in more work. But I hope this is what you wanted I’m sorry if it isn’t I tried!
Pairing: Tomas x Gn Reader, Kuai Liang
Warnings ‼️: More Angst I fear.
Heartbreak can feel like an eternity. Watching someone you loved for so long be wedded to another. You’re left wondering what you could have done differently. And right now you were sulking in your quarters again with the same thing playing over and over in your head. Seeing Kuai Liang holding and kissing Harumi on their wedding day.
Your sulking was interrupted when you heard a knock on the door. What now?
“Who is it?” You answered back in a strained voice.
“It’s me, grandmaster. You have a visitor. It’s…Tomas.” Your second-in-command answered back.
Your heart stopped beating for a second. Why would Tomas be coming over?
“Bring him in.” You said before wiping your tears away.
They opened the door to let Tomas in. He walked in with a soft expression, as if not to scare you away from talking to him. He had a little box with him. A gift for you. If Kuai Liang couldn’t get close to you maybe Tomas could.
“Hello…grandmaster.” He struggled to call you that. You were his friend but he found it best to stay professional right now.
“Please, Tomas, we are friends. No need for such things.”
Tomas nodded before bringing his attention back to the gift in his hand.
“Oh, I have a gift for you. It’s from Kuai Liang. He said it was-“ He was quickly cut off when you swiped the gift out of his hands, knocking it to the ground.
You really surprised Tomas with that. Immediately you got frustrated with yourself. You cursed yourself for being aggressive with him as he wasn’t the one you hated. He’s innocent in all this and you can’t take it out on him. You took his hand into yours to apologize.
“I-I’m so sorry, Tomas. I don’t know what has gotten into me. Please…forgive me.” You started to silently weep.
Tomas just looked at you with confusion but realized you were in pain. He couldn’t tell where exactly but you were suffering. He pulled you in close and hugged you tight. His hands ran through your hair and he squeezed you with his big, strong arms. The floodgates opened and you started to cry hard. Tomas never pulled back but instead comforted you. And it stayed like that for a while. The rest of the night actually. He made you lie back down in your bed and comforted you to sleep. You cried yourself to sleep in his arms. That was the most peaceful rest you had gotten in a long while. And that’s when the healing process started.
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Every week whenever Tomas could he would visit you and your clan. Every time he would ask how you were doing and each time you slowly got better. It was awkward at first because you felt bad for falling asleep in his arms. He didn’t mind at all, it was nice for him as well.
You managed to confess to Tomas that you had feelings for Kuai Liang for the longest time and seeing him with Harumi broke you. Tomas never judged. He understood how love can hurt someone. Make their heart that once held love be corrupted with hate. Without knowing it he was helping to fix your once loving heart.
You two would talk from day to night, night to day. You let your feelings out which was what you should have been doing in the first place. You were just scared to be vulnerable in front of your clan as they needed a strong leader. But Tomas was there to listen to you and never judge what you had to say. All the negative emotions left your body and soon your body was filled with love again. Love not for Kuai Liang but for Tomas. And his heart filled up with love for you.
Your clan was more welcoming to him than they were with Kuai Liang. He made their grandmaster whole again. You smiled more. You laughed more. You even apologized to your clan for being negative which they quickly forgave you. They just want you to be happy now.
It was awkward at first because you both didn’t know how to confess it to each other. You guys ain’t experts in this. But you had to be the brave one and say something. On a night where you two were in your room alone you spoke up.
“Listen, Tomas, I want to thank you again for helping me out. I was in a really bad place and I thought I’d never get out of it.” You said.
“Of course! How could I leave someone as special as you to suffer? I would hate for someone like you to stop being so sweet, precious, dare I say even lovable.” He chuckled softly before placing his hand on top of yours.
Well if that ain’t flirting you don’t know what Tomas was doing. What you do know is that it made your heart flutter and your cheeks burn once again. The hate is gone. There is love once more in you.
You struggled to get the words out. There was no right or wrong way to say how you felt. Words can’t express it but actions could. That’s why you practically threw yourself at Tomas. He was surprised by what you did but before he could ask what was wrong, he felt your lips against his. It was clear as the night sky what this was about. Tomas wanted the same thing so he kissed you back. There was passion and love between you that it felt like he was actually meant for you. It was never Kuai Liang. It was Tomas. Your heart belongs to him now. How sweet of an ending.
Except it isn’t. You may have forgotten Kuai Liang but he never forgot you.
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Kuai Liang already suspected something was wrong. Tomas was keeping secrets. Even when Kuai Liang sent Tomas over to talk to you he acted like nothing happened when that wasn’t the truth. There were nights where Tomas wasn’t in his bed and would show back up in the morning as if it was all normal. It only got worse after the night you and Tomas kissed. Kuai Liang had no clue where he was going.
The answer hit him like a bullet one night.
Kuai Liang was making sure the Shirai Ryu grounds were safe. He was lost in thought before looking up to the full moon. His eyes widened when he saw something unusual. A silhouette that looked like you. No, not a silhouette, it was you! You were there talking to Tomas.
Kuai Liang was about to call out to you. Say how happy he was to see his best friend again. How he has been fighting to see you again after his wedding. Wonder why you ever turned nasty. But he stopped once he saw something he would never imagine would happen.
He watched as you embraced Tomas and kissed him in the moonlight. Tomas’ hands wrapped around your waist and pulled you close. This couldn’t be right. His brother and his best friend…why is he feeling this way.
Kuai Liang never felt something so painful in his heart. Not even when Bi-Han admitted that he let their father die was this pain in his heart so great. It was a mixture of anger, sadness, and even disgust. Seeing his own brother hide the fact that he was seeing you all this time. How his lips were on yours and his arms were wrapped around you. This had to be some sort of joke. What a sick joke if it was one.
He couldn’t speak. He just stared at you and Tomas making out in front of him. He felt such strange urges. To take you away from his brother right this instant. To push his brother away from you. To yell at you about what you were doing. He didn’t even realize he was grinding his teeth. He just had to walk away at this point.
Even when Kuai Liang went back to the Shirai Ryu temple there was this negative energy going around. A man who never raged like a forest fire was randomly bursting into flames. Patches of fire danced across his skin as he made his way back to his bedroom. Even Harumi was unsure what was happening to her husband. He wasn’t saying a word.
The other clansmen notified Tomas of what was going on with his brother. Even the young Hanzo was confused by the grandmaster’s rage. He went to Kuai Liang’s room which Harumi let him in, leaving the two men to themselves.
“What’s the matter? Why are you bursting into flames.” He asked with concern.
“When were you going to tell me you two were seeing each other? Do you find it right to hide such secrets from your brother.” Kuai Liang questioned with such a cold tone that it contrasted with his fiery outbursts.
Tomas froze up. That’s why he is reacting like that? He knew it was wrong to hide what was going on but he was simply protecting you. You were the one who was hurting the most to the point you changed in a negative way.
“I would have told you when they were ready.” Tomas responded.
“I sent you over to speak to them. I sent a gift. What ever happened to the gift, huh?!”
“They didn’t want it! That doesn’t mean they hate you. I’ve been helping them-“
“Kissing is helping? The man I trusted the most goes around kissing someone I love as if you truly love them.” Kuai Liang didn’t even realize what he said, but Tomas did. That’s why he grabbed his brother by the arms.
“I do love them! And your love belongs to your wife, remember?” Tomas responded which made Kuai Liang’s blood run cold.
That’s right. His wife Harumi. The one he ran to in a time of need as if she were the only option. Never even thinking of you as an option. And now he wants to see you as an option? When someone else has your heart and healed it?
Tomas let go of his arms before walking out of the room. That whole confrontation only fanned the fires and Kuai Liang is left to his own mind. A mind that festered with the thought of what you and Tomas were doing all this time.
Did he kiss you all the time? Does he hold you close? Was he with you on those nights when Kuai Liang couldn’t find them. Where had his lips been? Was Tomas your first in bed!? Oh heavens! He couldn’t stand the thought of that being true.
Tomas could never treat you right. He could never kiss you in such a way that would make you giggle or blush instantly. He could never make you smile just by picking you up and twirling you around. His hands could never make you feel wonderful things in the dead of night before caressing you to sleep. Kuai Liang felt like the only person who could ever do that was…him.
What was wrong with him? He’s married now. You’re in a relationship. This is just wrong. It’s all gone wrong.
He loves Harumi, he would never think about being unfaithful. But it was only now that he realized he loves another. It was you.
Kuai Liang could never rip you away from Tomas. He’s seen that there is chemistry between you and him. It would be wrong of you to be unfaithful as well. So what can be done? Well, you must reject each other. You can’t accept each other’s love. Especially now when your love for him may be gone already. It hurts but he must accept the pain. If he carried on with it he will end up suffering, and in a way so will you.
You love another, no more hatred. Kuai Liang will have to live with his decision. He wasn’t wrong or right. Neither were you. It’s just how love works.
After notes: Once again sorry if this ain’t what you wanted, I did my best. I’m not the best at angst for this was my first go. I didn’t even have a part two in mind but my brain went into overdrive when I saw the idea. Anyways thanks for the request! Adiós!
#mortal kombat#mk1#mortal kombat 1#mortal kombat1#mortal kombat x reader#mortal kombat x you#mk x reader#mk x you#mk fanfic#mk scorpion#tomas x you#tomas vrbada x you#tomas vrbada x reader#tomas x reader#tomas vrbada smoke#tomas vrbada#scorpion x you#scorpion x reader#kuai liang x you#kuai liang x reader#kuai liang#angst#I’m sorry if this ain’t the best
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