#finally my mouth opened and out croaked an apology
Note
I am begging on my knees for a part two to cowboy price😭🙏
here she is!!! cowboy price part 2!! I really really hope you enjoy it ♥︎♥︎
18+ mdni - cw: spanking - ~2.8k words
John Price owns the ranch that neighbours your father's. You like to trespass. He teaches you a lesson.
Here's part 1! (and there will probably be a part 3 lol i'm having way too much fun)
Staring face down into the bale of prickling hay, sipping the turgid air like warm milk, you scoured your mind for your next apology. There was a long list of transgressions Mr Price could demand an apology for. Would he punish you for every single one?
Did you want him to?
His spread hand hovered over the skin of your rear, a threat – it ghosted over the fine fuzz and triggered ripples of gooseflesh to radiate out from the faint touch.
“I’m sorry for–” you uttered, barely a croak, “for making you chase me.”
The second you spoke it, your entire body tensed itself on instinct – girding itself for the discipline that would inevitably follow. Swift, and purposeful; he raised his arm, reeling it back like the string of a bow.
And he released it just as suddenly, hurling his palm downward rapidly enough to emit a whistle through the air; it collided with your ass in a sharp smack, over the same burning handprint he had already left there.
The force of it thrusted you forward, knocked a helpless squeal from your throat. You whimpered at the grit and dust grinding under your knees as it rocked you, your hands flat on the haybale turned to fists as you desperately squeezed handfuls of straw.
“Mhm,” he grumbled, grave and deep, “and?”
You swallowed air through your open mouth, your heart thundered in your ears – out of breath, but too wary to inhale deeply enough to sate it.
“For…” you hesitated, “for talking bad on your father.”
Keeping your hips still with his restraining forearm, he raised his free arm once again; you held your breath, squeezed shut your eyes in preparation for the blow. Swing. Smack.
Each collision of his vicious hand over the same spot burned worse than the last, as though his palm was adorned with barbs that pierced your fevered skin on impact. Yet a quiet moan slithered from your chest, slipped from your tongue, oozed like honey.
He drew in a grumbling breath, strained as he sucked it deep. Could he hear the pining titillation in your throat, dripping from each yelp? Might he hit you harder for it?
You winced, shivered, as his wide hand rested against the matching print that only grew more raised and more red by the second, the touch by turn warming and punishing. “Keep goin’.”
“I’m–”
Bitten off by a gasp as his fingers pushed in only slightly, burrowing into the pillowy flesh of your ass as though the squeeze was unintentional – the pressure on your near-broken skin inflicted an ache that made you whimper.
“I’m sorry for stealing cherries,” you force out, in a wet mewl.
He bore his dissatisfaction with a cocksure suck of his teeth. “Whose cherries?”
“Yours,” you squeaked.
“Mm,” he nodded, grinded out through a tight jaw. “Mine.”
Followed quickly your chastisement; the swish of his hand hurtling through the air, the ear-splitting crack of his open palm striking beaten flesh, the whine of twisted thrill that squealed out from your lips.
“My cherries–” he spat, unrelenting; again he lifted his palm, letting it hover in the air for a brief moment before he brought it down with a force.
Smack.
“–My orchard–”
Smack.
“–My hat–”
Smack.
“–My horses–”
Smack.
“–My stable–”
Smack.
“–My land.”
Smack.
The final blow threw a saccharine cry from your heaving lungs, dosed with a shameful squeak of desperation, wet and eager; eyes watering, your head collapsed into the haybale, prickly against your bright red cheek.
The skin of your rear stung numb, throbbing like a heartbeat, your knees shook with the adrenaline that riddled you from head to toe.
And as you adjusted your knees to balance yourself after he had knocked you off kilter – you felt the slick that had seeped from you, drenching your cunt in slippery syrup, the cool air biting cold at the saturated patch of your floral pointelle panties.
You could only suck your bottom lip between your teeth, biting down in abashment and guilt, self-flagellation for the burning heat that had pooled between your legs; almost as blindingly consuming as the white-hot sting of his hand-shaped brand.
He leaned back from you, balanced himself with his hand on your ass. Panting like a wolf, he wiped his brow with the back of his hand as though he had overexerted himself, broken a sweat in his outburst. Seemed to pause as he looked over his handiwork – had spanked you hard enough that you wouldn’t doubt how crisp the perfect outline of his hand would have been. Perhaps it was purple, speckled with the spots of broken capillaries and blood seeping under the hot skin.
But it mustn’t have been the damage he had inflicted that he was stuck on, as you heard his heavy breathing degrade into hoarse, animalistic chuffing; a broken grunt as though he had been kicked in the stomach.
You felt his thumb, slow and probing as though influenced by an unseen force – creep towards the cleft of your ass, running along the elastic lace hem of your panties. Teased the trim like it might slip underneath, but it didn’t. No, instead, he hovered it over the gusset, barely grazing the sodden fabric.
Eyes fluttering shut, you inhaled weakly, a quiet simper as he pushed his thumb into the valley of your cunt; wetting the tip with your fluid that soaked the thin cotton, dipping into you as though the single layer of fabric wasn’t the only barrier preventing him from plunging it deeper.
He must have felt the ring of muscle at your entrance tighten and twitch, an inadvertent reflex to his intrusion – because he abruptly tugged his hand away. You quickly released a sharp and feverish breath, cunt still pulsing around the painful absence of his finger.
“Alright,” he huffed, through teeth, as he rubbed the back of his head in exasperation. “Reckon you learned your lesson.”
You squeaked as you felt his pelvis press against yours, weighing against you from behind; as he leaned over you, reaching past you to pick up the cattleman that he had knocked from your head.
“Huh?” He persisted.
“Yes,” you croaked, realising his demand, you were quick to follow it. You leaned upright, kneeling still, as you tugged down the skirt of your dress to cover yourself; grimacing as the light fabric brushed over the burning welt on your rear.
With a hand on his knee he pushed himself to stand, sniffing in vexation as he dusted off his jeans. Bowed his head to put his hat back in its rightful place, pinching the leather crown with a single hand as he gave it a shimmy to adjust it. “Yes what?”
Through a whimper, you whispered, “Yes sir.”
“’Atta girl,” he gritted, “learned you some manners.”
You feebly swept a lock of your dishevelled hair from your face, tucking it behind your ear, too poignantly humiliated to think of anything pert to utter.
“Up y’get.”
It took you a moment to gather the nerve to stand, breathing carefully as you placed your hand on the edge of the haybale. Impatient, evidently, John bent down to you, slipping his broad hands under your arms in an effort to pick you up.
You yipped, wriggling away from his grasping hands as he hoisted you upright, and you landed on your feet with a wobble. “I can walk,” you bit.
“Yeah, right,” he groused, spinning you by the torso before hooking his arm around your waist; you yelped as he tossed you callously over his shoulder like a wet rag. “I ain’t letting you run off again, missy.”
“I wasn’t gonna run,” you whinged, but you mustered no resistance as he hauled you towards the stable door, kicking it open with his boot.
He snorted as he adjusted you on his shoulder, carting you out into the evening sun – appeared the sun had begun its approach to the horizon since you had run off from him, you forgot the days were beginning to grow shorter. The hum of the cicadas still blared just as loud as earlier, though, and the air just as warm, despite the fading orange glow of the sunlight.
Trudging through the long grass, no doubt towards his truck, he chided; “D’you expect me to trust you?”
You bit your tongue, scoured your scrambled mind for any retaliation. “I don’t want to get in trouble again,” you mumbled.
“I don’t believe that for a second,” he sneered, “I think trouble is the only thing you want.”
The pressure of his thumb lingered against your entrance, a permanent impression that made your heart flutter at the memory. Perhaps he was right.
“That’s not true.”
“No?” He questioned scornfully, grasping hand digging into the side of your waist to keep you steady. “Then why’d you come back here, huh?”
You pouted, staring into the grass, watching the back of his boots rise and fall with each step. Would you tell him it was just to see him? Just to have him find and scold you? Just to toe the line? Long since crossed, wasn’t it.
“I wanted some cherries,” you lied.
“Uh-huh,” he scoffed, as the grass began to shorten, bleeding to the rubble and dust of the old road. You heard the deep click of a handle, the rattling of the truck door, the moaning of its old hinges as it swung open. “Was it worth it?”
You hesitated, gasping as he tossed you into the passenger door of his Chevy – you landed on your back across the worn leather bench seat, bouncing slightly in the fall, head narrowly missing the steering wheel.
“Yes,” you breathed, to answer his question, and he froze like you had caught him in a bear trap.
Stood imperiously between your knees, as your feet dangled out of the open door, skirt having been rucked up by the landing. He glowered down at you, lips in a thin and admonishing line, but his predacious eyes betrayed his stoic righteousness.
Glare clawed down your splayed form from your dewy lips, to the swell of your breasts, to the bare skin where your thighs met your hips. Catching a glimpse of the mound of your pussy from under the hem, hidden from him by the dainty fabric of your underwear.
He breathed raggedly through flared nostrils, put a white-knuckled hand against the top of the doorframe, casting a looming shadow over your body. His gaze was pointed, fiery, burned from lidded eyes - you felt the heat of his stare, it made you sweat, made your cunt ache unbearably for his attention.
Tongue squirming, too bashful to form a plea; you made your entreaty with a meek hand, tracing your fingertips down your stomach, catching in the pleats and folds of your linen dress. With a hook of your fingers under the hem of your skirt, you coaxed it upwards, coyly exposing yourself bit by bit. Watched cautiously as his lour raptly followed your movements, belying his stone-faced expression.
But he stopped you, or himself, with a pat of his hand on your thigh, just above your knee. Left it there. And he ordered, dark and strained;
“Settle down.”
With a moan of petulant defeat, you dropped your arm to your side.
“I’m takin’ you home,” he grumbled, reaching for your skirt – did so with purposeful cruelty, letting his calloused hand graze up your thigh as he grabbed the hem and tugged it downwards to cover your panties.
He took impatient hold of your knees and swivelled them inside the cab, before shutting the passenger door with a creaking swing and a loud slam. You sat yourself upright, wincing at the painful reminder of the lashings on your rear as it pressed into the firm leather seat. He marched around the truck and hopped in behind the steering wheel, you crossed your arms churlishly as you glared out the passenger window.
Peevishly huffing as he started the engine and accelerated off down the deteriorated dirt road, you bounced around in your seat, the vibrations of the rolling vehicle doing little to settle the sore throbbing between your legs.
“I’m telling my dad what you did,” you griped, rich with spite.
“You can tell ‘im whatever you want,” he scoffed, hanging his arm out his open window, wrenching the steering wheel in the tight grip of his closer hand.
“I’ll tell him you hit me.”
“Yeah?” He gibed, “Gonna tell him how worked up you got?”
Scowling, you felt your cheeks glow red as you glowered out the window. “I wasn’t worked up,” you fibbed.
“Mm. Sure seemed like it.” You could hear his smirk without having to look at him.
You fumed. “Sounds like you’re proud of yourself."
He only released a quiet and scornful huff of laughter in response to that. Nothing snide left to say, now that you’d accused him of purposefully arousing you. But he was right. It was all you could think about, writhing and sizzling in your mind and in your stomach; a fire that he had lit, and now he mocked you for being ablaze.
Daddy’s house came into view, two storeys high with a wrap-around veranda, cladded in chipped white siding and adorned in carved cornices. Sat atop a rolling hill of dry grass, surrounded by century-old white oaks that kept it shaded.
You could only sulk, keeping your arms vitriolically crossed and refusing to utter a single word until the truck rolled to a halt over the raw gravel of the turn-around driveway.
Your father was where you’d often find him; leisurely lounging on the wicker veranda bench, reading glasses on his nose and some dull book about the economy in hand. But he perked up at the arrival of Mr Price’s truck, an especially unfamiliar sight, one that would no doubt spike some suspicion.
John left the engine running and hopped out of the truck. You sorely begrudged the dire possibility that you’d be forced to return to your childhood home, stuck in the tedium of your quotidian life, left to only daydream about the events of the afternoon as you washed dishes and folded laundry.
So in the brief seconds you had before he stormed around to the passenger side, you slipped your hands under your dress. Tucked your fingertips into the waistband of your panties, bucked your hips as you shimmied them down your legs and plucked them over your feet. And you nestled them behind you, out of sight as John yanked open your door, beckoning with an impatient and commanding hand for you to step out.
You groaned as you followed his wordless demand, jumping down into the gravel and glaring up at him with a vindictive curl in your lips. You spitefully stayed still, then, not taking a step in any direction of your own volition, wary that he might glance upwards and spot the coquettish little calling card you left in his truck.
“Move it,” he ordered.
You only pouted. “You’re a dick.”
With an exasperated roll of his eyes, he tugged your shoulder in the direction of your house – then lodged his hand at the back of your neck, under your hair, an authoritative grasp so that he could drive you by it. And he did, nudging you along, you stumbled awkwardly over your bare feet as you were carted towards your veranda.
Daddy pushed himself to stand, holding his hand over his eyes to shield them from the blinding setting sun as he ambled to the top of the deck stairs.
“Johnathan,” he spat, disgruntled and apathetic – just wanted to get back to his book, no doubt. And when he spotted you, last, of course, he queried; "That you, hun?”
You glared into the gravel, flushed with fervent humiliation, disguising it as malice.
“Found her trespassing,” John yelled, terse and irate. “Again.”
Your father hooked his thumbs in his beltloops, squinting down at him. “Fence is on your property, John. S’your problem if she fits through the gaps.”
“You need to keep a handle on your daughter,” John snarled, thick with derision, fuse running short. He released your neck with a slight shove, then, and you vindictively rolled your shoulder away from his lingering touch.
Your father snorted. “Looks like y’got a better handle on her than I ever will.”
Had enough, you stormed away from the condescending rancher, marching with your arms crossed towards the steps.
“Y’know what happens if I catch you back on my property, don’t you, girl?” John barked after you, a growl in his throat.
Shoving past your bewildered father as you trudged up the creaking stairs, you rolled your eyes. Concealed the coy smirk that curled in the corner of your lips, you answered with a grouse;
“Trouble.”
for the besties who asked to be tagged in part 2, here you go!!
@lilliumrorum @stars4sar @itsalwaysbetternottoknow @iamnotfinedaddy @erajoie07 @rafaelacallinybbay
#can you tell i listen to lana del rey#john price#call of duty fanfic#john price x reader#john price x female reader#captain john price#cod fanfic#john price x you#captain price#captain price x reader#captain price smut
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Unwavering Presence Chapter 3
Cassian X Archeron Sister (Reader)
Summary: Y/N looks forward to the next time her and Feyre go to the Night Court. Choosing to stay out of the way in the Spring she is visited by the High Lord and threats are made. Few months of learning how to read and Feyre finally warming up to the Night Court, the next time they return to the Spring Y/N is caught of guard and chaos ensues.
Content Warning: 18+ brief depictions of abuse, Tamlin being a dick, Ianthe appearance, unwanted groping (Not from any of our beloved night court folks or Spring court), blood, separation.
Word Count: 5.6k
chapter 2 Masterlist
A/N: I'm sorry if it seems to be a bit sped up but I simply could not bring myself to write more filler chapters! I hope you enjoy!
After my argument with Feyre, I locked myself in my room for the three weeks. Feyre had tried to come apologize and she tried to come in, but I had made sure my door was locked. I didn’t really move from my chair other than to change and sneaking into the kitchen late at night to eat. To avoid running the High Lord, Lucien or my sister.
There had been a continuous warmth on my tattooed wrist, Rhys’ reminder that I wasn’t alone. On the bad days where sleep evaded me, I tried to send back a wave of appreciation, unsure if he could feel it. Chances were he we were sleeping when I sent so he probably didn’t even know, but I did appreciate him.
Feyre and I have never had many fights and it was even rarer that the fight had resulted in us not talking and working it out. The last time was right before Tamlin took us away.
Feyre slammed her bow on the table. “You should have been here. What were you thinking going out there?” I scoffed as I dropped the wolf carcass on the table, facing my twin whose eyes flared with anger and a hint of fear. “You could have died!”
The door creaked open, and I glanced to see Nesta and Elain emerge from the bedroom. Their eyes went wide taking a look at the beast on the table. Our dad remained near the fireplace not acknowledging that Feyre and I had returned. Not like he noticed when we left. “Feyre, you could have died to. I have just as much skill at hunting like you, we work better together, and it worked out look at what we caught.” I held out my arm to show the wolf. “I love you, and I didn’t want you going out alone tonight. I’m glad I was there to help you take this beast down.”
Feyre blew up, “I could have killed you! I didn’t know you were there!”
I gave her a doubtful look and cross my arms, “I have been able to sense your presence since we have been children, you definitely knew I was there.”
Feyre ran her fingers through her brown hair not caring if she got blood in it. “Maybe I wanted to be alone, figured Nesta would give you some good quality time. At least she doesn’t despise your presence.”
My mouth dropped and quickly recovered, “Are you fucking serious, Fey? What the fuck does that mean?”
“Girls,” Our father croaked from his spot in the fireplace, only then that I noticed he was carving something in his hands. “That’s quite enough. Y/N your mother and I have taught you better than to use that type of language.”
I rolled my eyes, “Whatever you say.” I grit out and was about to push past my sisters when the door flung off its hinges and a beast with emerald eyes locked his gaze with mine.
A knock caused me to jolt from my seat and the book I was attempting to read on the table next to the chair, “Go away,” I yelled trying to conceal the fact the knock on the door frightened me.
The sound of the lock turning, and the door opens causing me to jump out of my chair, to see Tamlin strolling in. He shut the door and made a spectacle of locking the door. His eyes met mine and his eyes held nothing but cold and controlled anger. “Long time no see, Y/N.” He drawled and I tried not to shiver as fear locked up my joints. He slowly approaches me with his hands clasped behind his back, “You’re breaking Feyre’s heart you know. Locking yourself in here.” The sun from the window hit him and in any other situation I would have found his beauty mesmerizing, but his beauty looked sinister.
I crossed my arms and Tamlin takes notice of my tattoo decorating my skin before its tucked away. Feigning indifference, tucking the fear deep down and lifting my chin. “What do you want, Tamlin?” Shifting my weight back and forth.
Tamlin closed the distance, and I took a step back, “You’re coming down and having dinner with us tonight.”
I rolled my eyes, and I could hear the growl in his chest, “No thanks, as you can see, I’m quite busy here.”
Tamlin bared his teeth, “That wasn’t a request,” he took another step toward me.
“I don’t care,” I muttered and made the error of trying to step around him and in a flash, he gripped me and pinned me against the wall his muscled his hand moved from my arm and moved to my hip his free hand clamping down over my mouth. His gaze turned feral and crazed, letting his anger unleash and I could only produce a whimper through his hand.
He brought his face closer to mine and I could see the pure ire in his eyes. “Listen to me carefully. You are going to clean up, put on a pretty dress, come downstairs and apologize to Feyre for causing her stress and pain. Then you are going to eat in silence you will be seen and not heard.” I tried to yank my head, but he has my face in an iron grip, and he gripped my hip in bruising force keeping me pinned to the wall, “Like the good little human girl you are.” He released my face.
I quickly spat in his face, “Fuck-“he clamped his hand back over my mouth and I lashed against him.
Tamlin tsked, “No, no, the only thing I wanted to hear from you at all is ‘Yes Tamlin.’ And an apology to my soon to be wife.” He gripped my hip so tightly I gasped, and a tear slipped down my cheek. Tamlin kissed it away, the gesture going against his words. He met my eyes again his grin anything but comforting, “Blink if you understand, Y/N,” my name almost a snarl against his lips. I slowly blink and more tears fall. He lowers his face to kiss my forehead and I thrash my hands trying to push him away, but I couldn’t move him. He pulled away and released my body giving my cheek a not so tender pat, “Good Girl. Now go clean up there will be a dress on your bed,” he turned and made his way to the exit.
I wrapped my arms around myself, and I noticed Tamlin paused, “Oh and Y/N,” He turned his hand still on the handle, “Make no mistake if you don’t come down, I will drag you to the dining hall and tie you to the chair. Feyre’s happiness is important to me I will do anything to keep a smile on her face.” With that he left, and I let the emotions of the interaction fully take over and slide down the wall and bury my face in my knees to stifle the uncontrollable sobs. I barely notice how warm and tingling my tattoo is through the tears.
Cassian’s POV
I sat in the lounge of the townhouse with Rhys, there was a throbbing in my chest that caused discomfort. I rubbed my chest, but the pain wouldn’t subside, it felt like my heart was aching. I creased my eyebrows sadness consumed me and I rubbed that spot tighter as I closed my eyes.
“Cass, you alright?” Rhys’ voice pulled me from the wave of emotion overtaking me.
“I just have this weird feeling; my chest feels tight.”
Rhys gave me his full attention, his glass of whiskey forgotten. “Do you need me to get Madja?”
I shook my head, “No, just feels like something is wrong.” Another wave overwhelmed me, I closed my eyes, and I took a deep breath to neutralize myself. When I opened my eyes, my brother had a painful expression on his face. He was gripping his glass tightly his knuckles were white. “What is it?” I asked.
Rhy formed his lips into a tight line, and he clenched his hands into a fist, “Something is wrong over there,” he gritted through his teeth as he rubbed his left arm, causing me straightened I didn’t need him to fill me in. “She is sending utter turmoil down the bond.”
I grimace, “What kind of male torments their partner like that. To cause that much dread.”
Rhys shook his head, his eyes meeting mine the stars winking out, “It’s not Feyre, Cass.” My grip on my own glass tightened, “It’s Y/N’s.” Rhys stood and downed the rest of his drink.
Rhys began to walk out, and I called out, “Where are you going?”
“It’s the beginning of the new month, brother.” Rhys turned and winked at me, and darkness consumed him as he winnowed out of town house.
Reader’s POV
After a bath and getting the tears to finally stop I walked into the bedroom, taking a look at my hip fortunately there was no bruising from Tamlin’s grip. A lilac dress was laid out for me. The gossamer fabric chaffed my skin. The skirts were heavy against my hips, the spot where Tamlin squeezed still tender, I closed my eyes and took a few deep breaths and my wrist tingled. I looked down and grazed my tattoo calm washing over me, “Thanks Rhys.” I whispered.
I walked over to the door and opened it to find Feyre on the other side biting her nail, a nervous habit she started when we were kids. Her eyes widened as she saw what I assumed is my puffy eyes from crying, and in turn I saw how her eyes looked bruised and I know she has still not been sleeping, “Hi.” She whispered.
I drifted my gaze to my feet, “Hi.” I looked back at her and look at her thin frame and her sunken cheeks and Tamlin’s words flooded my brain.
You’re breaking Feyre’s heart.
Guilt racks through me as I lightly pull her hand from her mouth, “Feyre, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to lash out at you.”
Feyre squeezed my hand, “No, I am sorry. I know that this transition has been hard on you. I should have been more considerate to your feelings.”
I gave her a small smile tears pooling in my eyes again, “Let’s just put it behind us,” I patted her hand with my trembling one.
If you don’t come down, I will drag you to the dining hall and tie you to the chair.
“Y/N, you look like you’ve seen a ghost, and you’re trembling like a leaf. Do you want to lie down I can tell Tamlin you’re not-“
“No!” I blurted, causing Feyre to step back stunned. I composed myself, smoothing my skirts willing my hands to stop shaking, “Let’s just go have dinner with our…friends.” Feyre beamed at me referring to Tamlin and Lucien as friends as I tried to keep the bile from creeping up. We made our way to the dining hall. The closer we got the more nervous I became even the comfort of the tattoo felt vacant. I was trying to keep my hands from shaking by keeping them clasped.
The doors opened as we approached and Lucien and Tamlin were standing in their seats, snarling at something and as we got deeper into the dining hall to find Rhysand his hand tucked into his pockets. Feyre stilled and I fought every instinct to run and hug him. “Fuck you, Rhysand, we are to have a nice dinner. You can’t just take them.”
“Per our agreement it doesn’t matter when I come pick them up in the month.” Rhys spoke with cool indifference. “But I am a reasonable male,” He turned to us, “Ladies, I’ll give you the choice you can enjoy the meal with the High Lord and his loyal pet,” Lucien scowled, “Or we can go right now.”
Feyre moved to her seat by Tamlin Rhys tracking her entire movement, “I would like to have a meal before being whisked away.”
Rhys pulled his gaze away from Feyre and met mine. For a moment, I looked at Tamlin and could see his lips move the message clear Sit down. I met his gaze to his and hoped he understood what I was trying to convey with my eyes as I began to move to the seat next to my sister.
Don’t leave, please don’t leave. Don’t go.
Rhysand meandered to a seat on the opposite end of the table as Tamlin growled the claws peeking from his knuckles, “They want to have dinner, you can come back when their done.”
Rhys pulled the chair and plopped in it kicking his feet up as if he owned the place. “Where’s your hospitality, High Lord? I think it’s best I stay and join you. I’m sure Feyre and Y/N wouldn’t mind.”
Feyre scowled and I just lowered my gaze, finding the skirts of my dress very interesting as I took a seat. “Fine.” Tamlin grumbled and food appeared on each plate filled with lavish meats and cheeses.
I looked at the table and Tamlin’s fierce gaze met mine, “Y/N, so wonderful for you to finally join us tonight, care to say anything to Feyre.”
“Tamlin, leave her be she already apologized to me.” Feyre scolded her hand gripping my thigh with a gentle squeeze.
Tamlin bristled and I shifted in my seat under his scrutinizing gaze, “Well I’m glad she apologized. Let’s try to have a meal together with everyone present moving forward.” I looked to Lucien who avoided eye contact with me...Coward.
Feyre gave a small smile, “Sounds great.”
I moved my food around with my fork, not having an appetite. I felt a prickle in the back of my mind. You need to eat. I tried to reign in the shock of Rhys’ voice in my head. You BOTH do.
I looked at him, to see he was eating the food, but his eyes were locked on me and Feyre, I looked to my sister, and noticed she was doing the same thing. Looking at the High Lord of the Spring and his emissary, the two were engaged in their own conversation eating paying us no mind. I took a few bites of my food and out of the corner of my eye I saw Feyre following suit.
One the meal was finished Rhys stood and Feyre rising from hers, Tamlin reached to grab her hand and she casually moved her hand. I made a note to ask her about it when we’re alone. Feyre gave him a small weak smile, “We’ll see you in a week.”
A hand lightly gripped my shoulder, I looked up and met Rhys’ gaze, “Ready to go?” I nodded and rose from my seat. His hand slid down my arm and gripped my hand. “Feyre Darling,” Her gaze met his as he held out hiss free hand for her to take. She approached him with less fury than the first time we went to the Night Court. When she places her hand in his we are consumed by the darkness, and we are back in Rhys’ home. Feyre looked at me, “I’m going to go to bed. You are coming?”
Rhys gave Feyre a comforting grin, “She will be there in a moment. I need to talk to her real quick.” Feyre to my surprise give him a silent nod and her lips curve slightly upward and I swore that Rhys stopped breathing for a moment. “Good night, High Lord.” She said and turned and headed back to our shared room.
Rhys turned to me, and I averted my gaze to my hands that were interlaced. “Y/N, look at me,” I refused and kept my gaze on my hands, look at me, please his voice echoed in your mind. I sighed and met his gaze, “What happened? I felt an unnerving turmoil earlier today through,” he grabbed my arm with the tattoo. “It was like you were screaming down the bond.”
I slipped my arm from his grasp, and he let me, “I don’t want to talk about it.” I murmured wrapping my arms around myself, “I doubt you would believe me anyway.”
Rhys scowled, “You don’t have to tell me what happened. You don’t have to talk to me. But don’t ever say that I wouldn’t believe you. The pain I felt today was real your pain was real.” Rhys’ face softened, “Just don’t bury this down and forget about it, it will eat you alive, okay?”
I gave him a nod and he turned to leave probably to head to his own room, “He pinned me against a wall,” I blurted, and it caused him to still, he turned, and I could feel the tears building up as I placed my trembling fingers over my mouth, “He clamped my mouth so tight I thought he would break my jaw and he gripped my hip to keep me pinned to the wall.” I sobbed and Rhys in three strides made his way back and without saying anything else wrapped me in his arms and I let the sobs take over and buried my face in his shirt. A comforting hand placed on back of my head and he rubs my back in almost a brotherly way. “I tried to push him away and I couldn’t,” whether he could understand the words and tears just wouldn’t stop. “He told me I needed to remain silent except to apologize to Feyre for locking myself in my room. He said that he going to tie me to a chair and force me there.”
Rhys arms were the only thing keeping me upright, “It’s okay.” He whispered pressed his cheek atop of my head, as my sobs racked out of my body. “What can I do? Tell me what I can do to help you.”
There was a calm emotion that slowed down my sobs slowed, I take a deep breath, “Can you help me not feel as weak and powerless as I felt today? I never want to feel that way again.”
“Yes, you will never have to feel that way again.” He pushed away and looked at me, wiping tears from my cheeks. “I can train you.” I nodded in agreement as exhaustion began to take over my body. “It’s been a long day,” I gave him another nod, “Want to go to your room?” He gripped one of my hands, “I can take you there.”
I shook my head and his brows furrowed, “Can I go to the library?” He smiled and gave the top of my hand he held a kiss.
“Of course, you can, let me take you.” I gave him a small smile and sniffled as he led me to the library. The small journey was quiet, but the door opened, and the books came into view. “Tomorrow, we can start your reading lessons I’m hoping your sister will want to partake as well.” I turned to him, and he held hope in his eyes that Feyre would be willing. “We can start training whenever you want, Y/N. I’m sorry I couldn’t come sooner.”
He released my hand and began to walk away. I grabbed his hand again and he looked back at me, “I don’t know what I can say. What I can do to repay for your kindness.” And I wrapped my arms around his neck, “Thank you, Rhysand.”
He returned the embrace, “You don’t need to thank me.” He pulled away and cupped my cheek, “Have a good night, Y/N.” He places a chaste kiss to my forehead and heads deeper into the hall. I walked into the library and the fireplace lit and I welcomed the warmth as I sat on the large chair. Sinking into the cushion I laid my head back and in the comfort of the library my eyes shut, and sleep overtook me.
Cassian’s POV
She looked beautiful and peaceful on the library chair fast asleep. Rhys had casually let me know she would be there and before I went to bed after a long day in Windhaven, I stopped by to see if she might have needed anything and found her sound asleep. Rhys didn’t tell me what happened in Tamlin’s court, but he had mentioned that she was interested in training. The red around her nose and the smell of dried tears told me she had been crying and my mind only went to the worst-case scenario of what happened.
Leaning off the door I tucked my wings to not have them drag across the floor I approached, Y/N’s sleeping form, the way her neck was angled she would wake up in immense pain. I lightly scooped her in my arms trying my best not to wake her, she only stirred to move her head and leaned it against my chest and the sweet smell of Jasmine and lilacs flooded my nose. She smelled as beautiful as she was. I walked over to the couch that was placed right in between two bookshelves against the wall and lay her down making sure her head pressed against the pillow. The house placed a blanket in my arms and in no hesitation, I placed the blanket on her. She snuggled against the softness of the blanket and let out a content sigh.
I smiled and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, “Sleep well, Sweetheart.” And with that I left the library and went to my room.
Reader’s POV
The next morning, I woke up and found myself on the couch in the library, and there was a blanket over me. I remember falling asleep on the chair, but don’t remember moving. The scent of leather and Sandalwood lingered in the room and was a comforting embrace. Feyre opened the door her eyes frantic, “There you are! I was so worried!” She donned a peach dress that fitted her figure with sheer sleeves that had rhinestones on it. Her hair was pinned back to the side, and she looked beautiful even though the dress looked like it was wearing her.
I stretched and smiled at her, “Sorry, Fey, I fell asleep in here. I like it in here.” I sat up and put the blanket to the side, “I’m hungry.”
Feyre nodded, “Well go change and we will go get breakfast.” I nodded and went to the bedroom to change into a purple top with sheer puffy sleeves that showed a little more cleavage with matching pants and put my hair in a simple braid and made my way to breakfast.
At breakfast Rhys broke the news to my sister that we would be learning to read, write and shield against Daemati fae, which he explained to me is how he was able to speak to me in my mind. That went as well as I anticipated but with some coercing, she joined me in the office to get our first lesson. “I don’t understand why you care about our education.” Feyre grumbled.
“Oh, are you saying having this ability wouldn’t have been useful under the mountain?” I stilled at his question and Feyre went pale and silent. “We don’t know what the future holds, its in my best interest to have you two, well versed and ready for anything.”
He explained to us how to put up mental shields that we worked on, and we spent an hour writing the ridiculous phrases that made Feyre roll her eyes and mutter, “Insufferable,” causing me to chuckle. After an hour of Rhys scolding us for keeping our shields up and checking our work, he released us for the day. Feyre and I went back to the room and fell into a comfortable silence and that evening I went back to the library and grabbed a book to practice my reading.
The rest of the week was spent that way shielding, reading and writing and towards the end, Feyre was eating more and smiling more to Rhysand which I swore the High Lord soaked in her smiles like sun rays. When we returned to the Spring Court, we both spent some time together reading and despite my utter disgust I would join for meals to appease Tamlin and keep his temper at bay.
Months went by and fell into the same rhythm. Rhys threw in a few fighting lessons, but we started with balance and stretching. He said he would only show me the basics but when his General came home that I would start training with him for more intricate training. I wanted to ask Rhys what Cassian’s role was in his court or just even to learn more about him, but I refrained, I didn’t want to pry, and he never wanted to divulge in the members of his court.
I could tell after Rhysand dropped us off that both Feyre and I were feeling better and stronger as Feyre was begging Tamlin to go out and hunt and help the people in town and met with stonewall refusal. So, she would dive into reading with me, but her face was fuller, and light shone back into her eyes, the color in her hair was vibrant again. Turns out that verbal sparring with Rhys was doing something for her.
Dinner that night after Tamlin told Feyre he didn’t want her hunting, Tamlin was utterly sweet, to her and to me. I welcomed the change even if Ianthe had graced us with her presence and her saccharine grin making my skin crawl. It felt as though things were finally falling into place. I drank the wine that Ianthe had poured for me and when I went to my room, sleep overpowered me and I moved to my bed my head landing on the pillow as I slipped into unconsciousness not even realizing that I had left my door wide open.
I awoke with a start as the warm breeze caressed my bare skin, I sat upright my surroundings spinning but trees surrounded me, I was in the forest. Someone had put a sheer nightgown on me my hands were bound behind my back and female laughter caused my blood to chill. I turned my head to find Ianthe there. “Ianthe, help me please.”
She approached me and gone was any warmth in her features and cold viper took her place as she crouched to meet my eyes, “I’m under Tamlin’s orders. To take you far away from the manor”
I gritted my teeth, “Bullshit, he wouldn’t hurt my sister that way!” I sent panic down the bond in hopes that Rhys would be able to answer my call.
Ianthe stroked a finger down my cheeks moving to my neck and down to my clavicle, “Unless we tell her you ran away.”
Fear ran down my spine I masked it with indifference, “You think she would believe that I would abandon her like that.”
Ianthe traced her finger right above the swell of my breast and I jerked away from her, “Well we could also say that you were influenced by the Naga lured out by a lesser fae and with your fragile human body you couldn’t resist.” I bit my lip, and she smirked knowing she would believe that as she held a dagger and sliced quickly above my clavicle, and I hissed, refusing to scream. Though she sliced off one of the straps to my night gown. She placed a kiss to my cheek before she murmured, “I’d run if I were you. Won’t be long before the monsters that live in these woods smell your blood and come looking for you.” And with that she vanished.
I gritted through my teeth as I rose to my knees, ignoring the pain of twigs and rocks pressing into my knees as I rose to my bare feet and began to run. I wasn’t sure which way I was running and there was minimal moon light to help but I just kept running and sending my fear down the bond. Even opening my mind:
Rhys, help. Please help me!
There was no response, but I kept pushing, kept sending waves of fear down our tattoo and shouting my thoughts in hopes he would hear. It felt like hours I was in there before I tripped over a stump I didn’t see and fell hard on my back. My vision blurred as my head collided with something hard, but the silence was palpable in the forest. My breathing was labored, and I could feel the warmth trickle of blood running down my face. I knew my feet were cut up, but I still rose to my knees and willed myself to try and stand. Dizziness dropped me back to my knees and a sob raked out of me. “Rhysand, please.” I whispered.
A low chuckle echoed behind me, and I began to tremble. “What a delicious treat we have brother, a human girl” The sound of slithering made me want to vomit but I forced the bile down and kept my head down. The slithering halted and the images of the Naga Feyre had painted flooded my memory the serpent-like creatures with talons and vile creatures.
Another low sinister voice followed, “What a pretty little thing and tied up just like a present.” A sharp finger moved my hair away to look at my bleeding wound. I looked up and met yellow eyes and a pink serpent tongue sticking out. The hand that moved my hair gripped the back of my neck and I whimpered as the Naga licked the trail of blood from my forehead. The free hand groping my exposed breast, the beast hummed in approval, “She is delicious.” The Naga gripped my hair and I yelped in pain as he approached, bringing his mouth closer to mine but keeping my head in place so I couldn’t move.
Rhys, I think I’m going to die. If I do, it was an honor being your friend.
I could have sobbed when Rhys’ voice came into my head.
No one will be dying tonight.
There was a slash of metal and the howl of the Naga who was gripping me as he was yanked away a flash of blue propelling it back. The sound of wings booming above and a thud on the ground. I couldn’t see my savior’s face only that blue gems blazed in the night as he approached the creature that put its hands on me with a blade in his hand.
The creature’s brother tried to slither its tail around my waist only to be met with steel cutting in clean off. A blast of red power forced the beast back against the tree. The Naga was about to approach again ready for a fight when a dagger flew and landed right in between its eyes, and it slumped back against the trees. The clouds parted and moonlight was able to help me see but a hand grabbed my shoulder and a jerked out of the grip turning slightly to meet familiar hazel eyes. His eyes held fear and he held his hands out palms open, “Y/N, do you remember me?” He whispered.
I nodded, “Cassian,” I whispered my voice hoarse and dry.
Cassian gave me a warm smile, “Good, Can I untie you?” I nodded again and he took another dagger and made his way behind me to cut my ties as the other winged male approached. My hands were free, and Cass took my hands in his and began to massage my wrists to bring the circulation back into my hands. “Is this, okay?” he asked, ignoring his friend who had just approached. I nodded again words not forming.
The other male knelt and gave me a small smile, his eyes a similar hazel to Cassian’s but just like Rhys and Cassian he was utterly beautiful, “I have heard a lot about you, Archeron.” His voice was pure honey, “I’m Azriel.”
I give him a small wave. Cassian released my hand and slid off his jacket sliding it over my shoulders to cover me. I slide my arms into the sleeves. “We have to get going before more come.” Cassian whispered to me, “Will you let me carry you?”
I nod but force myself to say, “Don’t bring me back to the Spring Court.” I whisper as my eyes met his and pain flashes in those eyes. “Please.”
“You are not going back there, Sweetheart. We’re taking you home.” Cassian scoops me up and holds me close to his chest, where the scent of sandalwood and leather fills my nose and my eyes widened, was he there that day in the library? Did he move me over to the couch? My thoughts whirled but the dizziness caused me to lay my head on his chest. “You alright?” He murmured the words thrumming from his chest causing warmth to spread through my body.
“I hit my head, and a little dizzy but I’ll be alright.” Azriel rose nodding to his friend and gripped Cassian’s arm as darkness consumed us until we emerged into a house I had never seen before.
Rhys was in the hall his eyes frantic, “Mother above, Is she alright? Where's Feyre?”
Tears welled up at my conversation with Ianthe bubbled to the surface of never seeing Feyre again, “I'm alright” I croaked, “They’re going to make her think I’m dead.” I whisper and tear slips from my face. Cassian’s grip tightens on me his thumb rubbing circles on my back, and I wrap my arms around his neck and bury my face letting his scent soothe me.
"Who is?" Cassian asked.
"Tamlin and Ianthe." I whimper as pain erupts from my head. I pressed on, "They are going to tell her I abandoned her."
Rhys sounded as though he was clenching his teeth, “Cassian go take her to one of the rooms upstairs and have Madja come take a look at her.” I could hear his footsteps and a hand was on my arm giving it a comforting squeeze, “I’ll check on her in the morning.”
You didn't abandon her and when she sees you again she will know that Rhys' words in my mind brought me comfort as I heard his steps walk away with what I assume was Azriel's not far behind.
With that Cassian took me up the stairs and into the room I took a look around there were two twin sized beds and he laid me down on the one farthest from the window, He looked at the wound on my head, "I'm going to go get our healer, I'll be right back." He got up and I on instinct grabbed for his hand, hissing at my fast movement.
"Stay. Please don't leave me." I whispered.
He bit his lip and he nodded he looked off into the distance for a long moment and then he grabbed the chair from the small desk and brought it by my bedside. "Rhys, is calling for our healer." He sat letting his wings dip slightly as he grips my hand again and rubs the top of my hand. The soothing motion lulling me into a dreamless sleep.
Chapter 4
Story Tags: @hellodarling1357 @hnyclover @waytoomanyteenagefeels @amara-moonlight @impossibelle @esposadomd @sleepylunarwolf @stressed-reader @kylaisra @marvelouslovely-barnes @magicstrengthandcourage @spideytingley @awkardnerd @donttellthecats @Tastydewdrops @vermillionwinter @asweetblueberry2 @bunnyredgirl @homeslices @azriels-mate2 @oksloan3 @wallacewillow0773638 @fandom-crashlanding @writingstreetspirit @hannzoaks @minnieoo
#cassian x reader#cassian fanfic#cassian acotar#cassian x you#acotar#acotar fanfiction#rhysand acotar#rhysand x reader#azriel x reader#archeron sister#unwaveringpresence
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Finally Getting Help (prt 16)
Masterpost
Sorry for the delay on this part! And there might be more to come, I thought of a new AU that's devouring my brain XD I'll still be working on this it's just going to be slightly slower.
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Jason sat next to Danny, holding his limp hand as Bruce flew them back to the cave and landed gently. “Do we have a way to contact Frostbite?” Jason asked as they wheeled Danny into the Cave’s med bay.
“Yes, as long as Constantine isn’t too drunk,” Batman said dryly.
“If he is, I'll sober him up real quick,” Jason responded just as dryly. Batman chuffed out a soft laugh before pulling out his Justice League communicator and called Constantine.
After hearing Constantine was on his way, and grabbing a domino mask, Jason tuned out the conversation, returning to Danny’s side, taking his hand again. Jason jolted slightly when Danny’s fingers twitched and curled slightly around his own.
“Danny?” He asked softly, leaning over his boyfriend.
Danny’s brow pinched just a little and then he opened his eye, squinting up at Jason. He held his breath as Danny blinked and looked around before letting out a soft groan and closed his eyes tightly for a moment.
“Hey, how do you feel,” Jason asked softly as Bruce finished the call and hustled over to check Danny’s vitals.
“Thirsty, like I was hit by a bus,” Danny croaked but there was a flicker of a smile around his mouth. “Where are we?”
“I’ll get you some water,” Jason said, squeezing Danny’s hand before hurrying to grab a water bottle.
“You’re in the bat-cave, you passed out after the fight. We’ve gotten in contact with Frostbite, he should be here soon.” Batman told Danny, as soft as he ever was behind the mask.
“I passed out huh?” Danny sighed, pushing himself up with a soft groan and accepted the bottle of water from Jason once he’d opened it for Danny. He drank deeply and sighed with relief. “Frostbite doesn’t need to come though, I almost always pass out after using my wail, and twice in one night? I must have conked out for a bit longer than usual, nothing to worry about really.”
“We’d still feel better having you looked over,” Bruce said just as gently
“Yep, and hey, while he’s here maybe he can look me over too. We talked about me having an appointment with him,” Jason pointed out. He knew that Danny would feel better if it wasn’t just for him.
As Jason sort of suspected he would, Danny paused, then sighed and nodded, laying back down on the gurney with a little groan. Fine,” He sighed softly, handing the bottle back to Jason who set it aside for Danny. “What happened to Vlad?”
“He got away,” Bruce said with a sigh. “Spoiler, Blackbat, and Red Robin are still looking for him but so far without success.” Bruce said with a frustrated set to his jaw.
“I hope they’re being careful. I’m sorry, I should have guessed he would be tracking me. You’re not hurt, are you?” He asked, looking at Jason worriedly.
“I’m completely fine. And they will be too, they’re tough and they have the tech you build for them,” Jason promised Danny with a reassuring little smile.
“I hope so,” Danny groaned. “God Vlad is such a bastard.”
A green portal opened in the middle of the Bat-cave and a giant yeti like ghost came charging out with a very frazzled looking John Constantine on his heels. “Is the Great One alright?!” The yeti asked worriedly.
“Ya Frostbite I’m fine,” Danny promised, sitting up again and giving him a little smile. “I just overused my powers again.” Danny didn’t seem surprised when Frostbite came charging over and scooped him up in a tight enough hug that it made Danny wheeze. Jason and Bruce got out of the way and gave Constantine a curious look, he gave them a helpless shrug. “But I still need to breathe,” He gasped and Frostbite quickly put him down again, apologizing all the while.
“I’m glad you are alright! But it’s about time for a check up for you and the little ones anyway,” Frostbite said warmly before suddenly noticing Batman and Jason, he had been too sign mindedly focused on Danny previously. “Oh! Hello,” He greeted brightly.
“Frostbite, this is my new guardian Batman, and my boyfriend Jason,” Danny said, using his civilian name since Jason wasn’t in costume.
“Ah! Wonderful to meet you!” Frostbite said, offering his big hand for Bruce to shake, who accepted, and tried not to seem taken aback by just how enthusiastically Frostbite shook it. He nearly lifted Bruce off the ground! At least when Jason’s turn came he was prepared. “It’s good to know he’s finally away from the Fenton’s, they were terrible guardians. He and the little ones will be safe with you, yes?” There was a hint of a warning in his voice and the temperature dropped a few degrees.
“Yes, of course,” Batman said firmly. “I will do my best to protect them and provide a safe environment.”
Frostbite nodded and looked at Jason.
“I’ll do my best to make him happy,” Jason said a little lamely, but Frostbite seemed to accept it.
“Excellent!” Frostbite said brightly again and turned back to Danny.
“Once we’re done can you have a look at Jason?” Danny asked Frostbite. “He died too, and has had some trouble since coming back.”
“Of course, Great One. But we will be giving You a thorough check up first,” Frostbite insisted. Danny gave a resigned sigh and nodded.
Danny sat back down on the cot and let Frostbite examine him. Since neither objected to Bruce and Jason’s presence so they both stayed to watch, and support Danny if he needed it. Constantine wandered off, he wasn’t part of the family after all, this was none of his business.
The check-up was… odd, it mostly consisted of Frostbite waving his hands around Danny, occasionally touching very deliberate places, while asking him questions about how he was feeling, physically and emotionally, and what had happened. He touched the center of Danny’s forehead, his chest, every time he did little waves of blue light went through Danny. The one over Danny’s stomach made him gasp softly and Frostbite frowned at him, Danny smiled back sheepishly.
“Can you show me your core?” Frostbite asked, pulling back.
Danny nodded and reached into his own chest, something Jason would never get used to seeing, and drew out his core. Jason hadn’t seen it before, he thought it was absolutely beautiful, the most perfect sapphire he’d ever seen, glowing silver blue with an opalescent sheen, it looked like a miniature planet, like it might contain an entire world.
Batman had seen it before, and he knew that it looked significantly dimmer then it had been the first time Danny had showed it to him. That was… concerning. Frostbite seemed to think so too by the way he was frowning at Danny. He pulled out some sort of souped up magnifying glass from somewhere and started to examine Danny’s core, though he didn’t once touch it.
“There are no cracks or chips, you simply overused your powers,” Frostbite said, putting away the magnifying glass and gesturing for Danny to put away his core. “I’m surprised honestly, for most leaving your Fraid and your haunt like you did would have caused far more damage. It’s testament to how well your current caretakers are looking after you that you’ve weathered the transition so well.
“I wouldn’t try to use your powers for about a week to let your ectoplasm regenerate. There’s significantly less here then there was in Amity Park, there’s still plenty to sustain you but you’ll need to ration it’s use a little bit to have enough for you and the little ones to develop properly.” Frostbite said with a definitive nod.
“I will, if I can,” He promised, looking down. “I wasn’t exactly expecting to be attacked this time. What happens if I Do overuse my powers too much?” Danny asked, glancing up at his Doctor.
“Well-” Frostbite started and then stopped himself, looking down at Danny consideringly. “I’m not entirely sure. With a regular ghost the child would either take significantly longer to form properly, or the parent might even retreat into their own core and lose the baby. But you are still living, and the babies have flesh forms as well, yes?” Danny nodded and Frostbite tilted his head slightly. “It’s… possible that even if you deplete yourself you and the babies will be alright, your ghost form would retreat and you and the babies will be, for all intents and purposes, fully human for a time. But I would not test that! There are too many ways it could go wrong.”
“Oh I don’t want to test it,” Danny said with a wry smile and a shake of his head. “Like you said, it’s kind of amazing my core is in as good shape as it is with all the changes lately, and if it broke it would End me, wouldn’t it?”
“Yes,” Frostbite said ruefully, patting Danny’s shoulder sympathetically “But let's not focus on that! You and the babies are doing well! here , drink this,” He produced a little vile of a viscous glowing green liquid and patted Danny’s shoulder, which was apparently his queue to hop off the cot. He drank the liquid like a shot and handed the vile back to Frostbite who stowed it back in whatever liminal space he’d been pulling all of these things from.
“Are you ready?” Danny asked Jason. Resting a hand on his arm. Oh right, Jason had almost forgot he was going to be getting a check-up too.
“Ya, sure,” Jason agreed with a sharp nod. He was nervous, seeing Danny’s interactions with Frostbite had put some of it at ease but he was still a bit scared about what Frostbite would find.
“Can I hold your hand?” Danny asked, knowing Jason needed it, but wouldn’t ask. Jason nodded again and went to sit on the cot like Danny had. Danny stayed next to him and gave his hand a gentle squeeze.
“Alright! What seems to be the trouble?” Frostbite asked Jason, warm and sympathetic.
“Well, I died a while ago. I came back and we don’t totally know why, I went through some shit, got dunked in stuff we call Lazarus Water, which heals the sick and kills the healthy, and occasionally resurrects people. And I’ve been having issues ever since. I can’t control my emotions well, I have violent outbursts and dissociative episodes, I do things without knowing I am, or remembering it sometimes?” Jason said, glancing at Danny who gave him an encouraging smile. “None of this happened before I died and came back, I really don’t think it’s trauma either. Danny confirmed there was something wrong.”
Frostbite hummed and looked back at Danny, who nodded. “I did, I mean, I don’t really know what I was looking at but it did feel… off,” He said with a helpless little shrug.
“Alright, I’ll have a look,” Frostbite agreed and gently rested a clawed finger against Jason’s forehead. Cols rushed down over him, not refreshing cool water like it had been with Danny but freezing cold. It made Jason gasp and tense but he refused to pull away. Slowly a frown formed on the ghost doctor's face and he tutted. Well that was a bad sign.
“Frostbite,” Danny said, a warning tone in his voice.
“Ah! My apologies! It’s nothing as bad as what you might think! I haven’t seen something like this in a very long time. Granted I rarely have occasion to tend to mortals but…” He trailed off and pulled back, the feeling of ice against Jason’s skin vanished. “Your resurrection was botched. You are alive, but it’s not…” Frostbite seemed to think about the best way to explain this.
“Your soul was never given the chance to enter your body properly. I would guess when you ‘came back’ it was as an undead rather than a truly living person. Then the Lazarus Water resurrected your body and bound your soul back to your body, the way that it had previously been, which was not entirely… inside your body.
“You’re soul and your body are not quite one being. It’s like a bone that broke and was not set before healing properly, it created some… spiritual nerve damage.” He saw Jason’s look of confusion and sighed. “I’m sorry, this is hard to explain to the living.”
“So, that’s causing all my issues?” Jason asked hesitantly.
“Yes and no, it also seems to have damaged your ability to process the lingering ectoplasm from your ghost, and the Lazarus Water, which seems to be a corrupted ectoplasm. I suspect those are causing the emotional outbursts,” He said. “I’d need a sample of Lazarus Water to confirm that.”
“I can get you that,” Bruce rumbled. “So, how can we fix this?” He asked, always blunt and to the point.
“It’s not that simple. How would you fix a bone that healed wrong?” Frostbite asked.
“In a lot of cases… you have to break it again,” Jason said with a wince.
“Yes, now we will Not do that, killing and resurrecting you again with the hopes it would be correct this time is far too risky. I mean to say with how set your soul is in its current position this is going to be a very long process with an unclear prognosis. I suspect just spending time around the Great One will help,” Frostbite said, gesturing at Danny. “Infusions of uncorrupted ectoplasm will hopefully clear out the corrupted stuff and ease the emotional issues. It may also strengthen your soul which, as long as you are at peace inside yourself, will help it settle back into its proper place.
“You should know that it is possible that if you are entirely at odds with yourself, strengthening your soul might have the opposite effect of allowing it to pull even further away from your body. Managing your support system and obsessions will be crucial to recovery. Phantom can help you with that as well, he has more experience,” Frostbite said gently. “It’s important to remember that most ailments of the soul have an emotional element to them, and not try to find fast and easy fixes that will make things worse in the long run.”
“I understand,” Jason said numbly. He really had been hoping there would be some clear easy fix.
Danny squeezed Jason’s hand and Jason looked at him and was greeted by a warm smile. “The important thing to remember is we know what’s wrong now, and that things can get better. You’re already on the right track reconnecting with family and being with me.”
Jason took a deep breath and nodded, Danny was right. This had been going on for years now, nothing had really changed just because he knew. It wasn’t like he was getting diagnosed with something terminal. “Right,” Jason agreed with a nod and took a deep breath, shaking his head and rolling his shoulders. “Right, thanks Frostbite.”
“It’s my pleasure! I’ll supply Phantom with the pure ectoplasm, he knows how to administer it well enough. I shall come check up on both of you again in a month’s time, but I should be going now!” Frostbite said, hugging Danny again tightly before wandering off, muttering about wondering where that magician got off to.
#danny phantom#dc x dp#danny fenton#dead on main#jason todd#fanfiction#batman#john constantine#frostbite#finally getting help AU#Trans!danny#pregnant!danny#bruce wayne
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Liar pt.1
GIF by bakemono04
Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8
Pairing: Gojo x fem!eader
Warnings: Pregnancy, blood, mass k1lling, heavy themes kinda, angst, not proofred
Word Count: 1.9k
A/N: Finally done😭 This took so much energy and honestly I'm still deciding how I feel about it. Hope you like it tho.
You looked up from your bed, buried in your blankets as you watched your husband hurriedly get dressed in his sorcerer uniform, buttoning his jacket and rushing to reach for his phone before realizing that you were awake.
He looked deep into your eyes, his being covered by his signature blindfold, and although you couldn’t see them, you could tell that they held a chaotic medley of heavy emotions.
He slowly leaned closer to you, placing his right hand against your cheek and pressing his forehead against yours.
“Where are you going?” your feeble voice whispered.
“I have to work,”
“Do you have to go now?”
“Don’t worry honey, I’ll be back before you know it,” His heart ached as he lied to you. He knew his words weren’t true, but he had no choice.
“Promise?”
“Ofcourse, baby, I’m-”
“The strongest, yeah yeah, I know,” You croaked, feeling sleep begin to take over you once again.
Satoru chuckled softly as you slowly began to drift back into your dreams. His left hand slowly rubbed your swollen tummy.
“Keep our little Kikufuku safe until I get back, okay? He said softly, placing a kiss above your belly and then your forehead.
As you hummed in agreement, he slowly moved away from you and walked towards the bedroom door. Every fiber of his being was telling him to stop. To turn back and stay with you. But alas, he had a role to play, and he was needed elsewhere, and there was nothing he could do about that.
As he closed the door behind him, he dragged his body away from you, from your child, and to his students and fellow sorcerers. He begrudgingly trudged himself towards the Shibuya station.
He didn’t want to go but he had no choice, no matter what he wanted, he had to go…
He HAD to go.
Week One
You stirred from your restless slumber, shivers running down your spine from the cold latching to your skin. You groaned at the aches and pains that have been plaguing you for the majority of the latter half of your pregnancy.
As you were still waking, you heard your doorbell ring. You slowly pushed yourself off the bed and lugged yourself down the stairs.
As you opened the door, you were met with a somber looking Ichiji. He could barely meet your eyes as he whispered an apology, bowing his head and holding a letter out to you.
“What’s this,” you asked, heart racing because you knew exactly what it was but you didn’t want to accept the glaring truth.
“It’s from G-Gojo Sensei,” He feebly whispers, voice cracking slightly.
Your shaky hand reaches out to grasp the letter, thanking Ijichi before closing the door. You made your way to your couch and went against every fiber of your being to open and read the letter.
Dear Y/N
Hello my love. If you're reading this it means something has happened to me.
I’m sorry I couldn’t keep my promise. I know you deserved better and my biggest regret is not being able to give you a life you deserved.
I don’t know how long I’m going to be gone, and as much as it would pain me to let you go, I can’t bear the thought of you having to deal with all the burdens that come with being with me.
If you choose to leave, I fully understand and don’t blame anyone other than myself.
Please take care of our kikufuku, I know you will be the best mother in the world.
Always know that I love you more than life itself, I always have and always will. Please never forget that.
-Satoru
Your hand covered your mouth as a sob was ripped through from your lungs. Tears flowed nonstop from your eyes as you cried and cried and cried.
You clutched your belly as you tried to stop crying for the sake of your baby. All you could think about is how you were going to raise the baby alone and you only ended up crying even more. But you decided to be strong. You had to for your little mochi.
Month One
You squeezed your mother’s hand as you pushed through the most excruciating pain you may ever experience. The nurses were trying to coach you through your breathing as you went through labour.
“One more push,” your doctor instructed you, causing you to put all your energy into birthing your precious angel.
Suddenly, the room was silent except for the crying erupting from the newborn.
“Congratulations, he's a beautiful, healthy boy!” the nurse whispered, placing your son on your chest.
Tears blurred your vision as your precious angel on your chest, your mother hugging you and at that moment, all you could think about is how much you loved and would lay your life down for the happiness of your little prince.
“As he slowly opened his eyes, you were mesmerised by the sea of blue that met your eyes, matching his white hair.
“Hello Kaito,” you said with a happy but simultaneously sad smile as you gazed down at yours and Satoru’s child.
Like father, like son.
Month 2
Satoru
Gojo layed silently, eyes bare and staring into the seemingly unending void of the prison he has been submitted to, and all his mind would drift to his thoughts of you and his presumably unborn child.
In the prison, no time would pass, and considering you were 8 months pregnant when he was praying to every being willing to listen to him that you wouldn’t give birth to your child without him by your side. He wouldn’t be able to forgive himself if you had to go through that and handle the Jujutsu higher ups without him.
Although he was surrounded by darkness, his mind was racing because on top of all of this, he was trying to understand why he had seen his best friend’s being in the station, but that wasn’t his priority. That was getting back to you and his baby, but from the looks of it, it wasn’t going to happen any time soon
Y/N
Ever since you had given birth to your little prince, you had been constantly harassed by your husband’s parents as well as all the upperclassmen of the Jujutsu world. You hadn’t even been able to leave your house for the past week because It was surrounded by men trying to take your son away from you.
You had always known that bearing the son of the strongest sorcerer in the world would come with its consequences but you and Satoru had always agreed that you would be able to face these things together. However, ever since his sealing two months ago you have been under constant pressure and harassment from the Jujutsu world telling you to give up your son, but you would rather take them all to the grave with your bare hands than even think of giving up your son to them.
All of this had been building up even before your little mochi’s birth and it had reached a point where you don’t think you can handle this anymore. Although you were also a sorcerer, and a special grade at that, you wouldn’t be able to protect your baby from the dangers and toxicity and dangers of the Jujutsu world. You had to leave.
You wanted to raise your son in a place where he could be safe and grow happy and healthy. And although you didn’t want to leave your job and your students at Jujutsu Tech, you had to do what you had to do for the sake of your child. Even if that meant abandoning your marriage with Satoru.
Your heart ached as you looked back at Japan from the airport, baby in hand and family and friends bidding you farewell before you slowly made your way to the boarding gate. Tears filled your eyes as you thought about your now technically ex husband. You looked down at your now bare left ring finger, thinking of the future you could have had together, but you had to do it. Not just for yourself, but for your son as well.
You had to leave.
Month 3
YN
It had been a month since you had left Japan and although it had been extremely difficult to settle in a new country with new cultures, a different language, and different people whom you know none of. Finding a new home and job to be able to provide for your son, but it was beginning to feel worth it by the end of the month you had finally begun to feel comfortable.
However, as you looked over your son, clutching his blue and white monkey plushie, your mind couldn’t help but drift off to Satoru.
Was he back?
Was he still sealed?
Would you ever see him again?
Although you knew he would never find you where you are, what if you met him one day. You had kept in touch with megumi throughout the move considering to you, he was always going to be your son. But other than him and your parents, you never really spoke to anyone back home, and you decided that you need to look forward and focus on bettering yourself and making sure you give your baby a happy home. And you weren’t going to turn back, at least not anytime soon.
Satoru
Gojo Satoru is free.
He had finally been released from the prison realm and before he could do anything, he went on a rampage, killing every curse and curse user within a 20 km radius, painting the city in all of their blood.
He finally stopped seeing red and immediately thought back to you. He warped back into your shared home, hoping to find you asleep and wrapped in the warm duvets on your shared bed.
His heart began to race as he warped into a dark, empty and cold home.
“Y/N!” He called, running through the house searching for you before reaching your presumably shared bedroom.
As he burst through the door, his eyes met your bedside clock. Three months. He had been gone for three whole months. Panic began to seep into his bones.
This means you must have already given birth. Were you okay? What if you didn’t even survive labour?
He quickly rummaged through the drawers, moving to the vanity, and his heart sank as laid atop the table were a picture of you in a hospital holding a bundle of blankets covering your precious child. The life you created together. As he held it with shaking hands, tears cascading onto it, his gaze shifted from the image to a letter, and to his regret, your engagement ring.
In the letter, you told him about the harassment you and your son had to endure, turns out you had a boy, and how you had to flee the country for both of your safety.
His heart shattered and he hated himself more than he ever had anyone else.
“No, no, no, no, no, no no” He whispered, hand gripping your ring so tightly its gems began to cut into his palms.
He was overrun by countless emotions. Guilt, grief, regret, self hate, anger, all of them.
Sobs Ripped through his chests so violently that it ripped his throat, causing it to bleed. His knees gave in and he clutched the ring and picture to his chest and he cried. And as he cried, something inside him died. His happiness, joy, his smile, all left him at once, and his eyes lost their shine.
That night, Satoru passed away, and left behind Gojo, an empty shell of what he once used to be. What he could’ve been.
Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8
I tried. Longest imagine I've ever done, I'm so tired. lemme know if ya'll want a pt.2
@porridgesblog , @giannitaa , @c0pkiller
© gojos-fr-bae
#gojo satoru#gojo#jujutsu gojo#gojo x reader#gojo saturo#gojo x you#gojou satoru x reader#jjk gojo#gojo imagine#gojo fluff#gojo satoru x reader#satoru gojo#gojo angst#gojou satoru x you#satoru gojo x reader#suguru#jujustu kaisen#geto suguru
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I actually had random motivation to write a small thing for Death Seeking Creator so here *throws at the wall* I'll post more if I feel inspiration.
Small warning, I tried not to be too explicit with the deaths. But who knows if I succeeded so apologies if you're squeamish with blood and such things.
~~~~~~
It's the same thing every time.
They wake up, a scream tearing from their soul as tears fall down. They could barely taste the bile that threatened to eject from their empty stomach, causing them to wheeze and cough to prevent it. But soon laughter bubbled up, their hands clutched their head as their voice croaked as more and more giggles erupted.
It could barely be recognized as laughter as their hoarse voice screamed and wailed out to the darken clouds as rain pelted their golden scars and tattered cloth. Thunder could be heard as they finally lose their breath, coughing as their body forced them to calm down from their fit of insanity.
As they breathed, their mind could only think back to how they ended up here.
They had chosen to travel through the desert, since that's all they could do when waking up in such a desolate place. They had hoped to come across a group of mercenaries or even scholars that could help them. But instead all they met was the blood red eyes of the character- nay, the person they once cherished and adored.
They couldn't remember his words, only the coldness in his voice as he looked upon them in disgust and animosity. They didn't even have time to process as he grabbed their throat and stole their breath, pinning them onto the hot sand as they stared back up in shock. Then they saw his face morph into unbridled rage, releasing them as if their skin burned his. They didn't have a chance to recover once the spear pierced them.
It's the same thing every time.
They slowly stood, feeling the rain hit their skin as they looked up into the endless sky. Their ears picked up movement from within the forest they now reside in, a wide grin now beginning to rise. They turned to face a familiar pair of glowing eyes, once that held a familiar rage.
“Oh my! It's been awhile Barbat-” They cut off as the arrow flew towards them, hitting its mark.
A scream rips out as they fall onto their knees, clutching onto the arrow piercing their heart. Blood pools out of their mouth, their airways flooding from the liquid.
Laughter bubbles up again, their veins filled with euphoria as they see the black spots in their vision. The rain pours harder, practically leaving marks against their brittle skin. But they couldn't hear it as their own voice drowned out the thunder. Their grin was wide, almost manic as they opened their arms out to the enraged god before them.
“Oh thank you! Thank you for such a wonderful feeling!” They cried out in happiness, babbling at how euphoric their pain feels. Their hands, now gripping onto the arrow, drive it further into their body. They wail as it brings about more pain, tears trailing down their cheeks. Or was it tears? It was impossible to tell for either party because of the rain.
They giggled as they coughed out a small puddle of blood, no longer able to hold it in. The golden color glows warmly against the cold grass, sparkling as if stars had been placed inside it. They laugh louder, babbling about how the lack of air has made them hallucinate, not paying attention to the horror on the face of the god.
They could hear him yell over the rain, feeling his hands now force their face to meet his. They wheezed at his expression, gurgling out words of mocking. Their blood poured out as each word was said, their eyes shining wide. They could feel his hands quickly grab theirs, attempting to rip it away from the arrow, but it only made them rip said object out. More blood pooled around them as they cried out from the pain.
They couldn't breath, their wide grin softening into a small smile as the darkness finally took hold. They paid no mind to the screaming from the god, nor his words of pain.
Thunder boomed as they went limp in the now weeping god's arms.
It's the same fucking thing every time.
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Im so SO sorry 💗
Snippet: Rosie and Ren woohooing but she didn't moan his name. Oops!!
DISCLAIMER: They are NOT in an established relationship in this.
Ren and Teo are from @14dayswithyou
Nsfw fic below (DNI if below 18!!!)
"Ngh... ah..." "Hah..."
The bed creaked and groaned under the shifting weight of Ren on top of her, Rosie's bangs clinging onto her sweat-covered forehead. Slender fingers bunch up the fabric of his sweater's sleeves and her legs clenching around his hips before wrapping around completely. Her head was buzzing, the hours dragged by as her sore body took each and every thrust the taller man gave to her. And she took it so well, so eagerly, confirmed by Ren's sweet praises and gentle touches to her face in contrast to the rough snaps of his hips. Another sweet spot kissed by his tip has her back arching off the bed, lips parted in a strained moan before she lets a name slip from her kiss-swollen lips.
*And it wasn't Ren's name.*
"T--eo--" Just those two syllables had her senses come back full time, brown eyes widening and a hand slapping to her mouth as she stared up at Ren. He stared down at her with an unreadable expression.
"I, um--" Oops. To say she had things complicated with Teo was only one-sided. Feelings for a man with no sense of commitment left the girl stringing herself along like a lost puppy. That was why she agreed to hang out with Ren, to be with Ren, to *fuck* Ren. It wasn't like they were dating though... but that didn't help her case at all, nor the guilt and shame that crawled up her spine. "Sorry, I don't know what came over me--" Yes she did, she absolutely knew what came over her.
"You're thinking 'bout him?" And so did Ren it seems. The man could read her like an open book– like she had the audacity to even feign ignorance. Was it that obvious?
Before Rosie could explain herself; apologize, hide her shame and pray for a hole to open up and eat her alive-- anything, Ren had grabbed her thighs, pushing them closer to her body until her knees met her shoulders. "Hold on-- I didn't mean to, really-- ah!" The girl throws her head back into the pillow as he slams his hip down, feeling his cock (AAAH) reach places deeper than before.
"Ren!" She croaks out, her hands shooting to the large pillow under her head, yanking at the plush as he slowly pulls out until just the tip is left inside, before *sloooowly* pushing back in. *Oh god.* Rosie lets out a desperate whine at the achingly slow pace he had set, like he was trying to make sure her cunt (AAAAAAAAH) remembered the shape of him. He continues this rhythm, slow and deep that drives Rosie wild and near the edge.
"There you go," he hums, leaning down to nip at her earlobe, the sounds of her needy cries filling him with pride. "That's my name, angel... say it again,"
"Ren--" "Again." Another whine rips from her as her gummy walls flutter around him, signalling her approaching orgasm. "Say it again, angel and I'll let you cum." His hips barely move, almost as if he was ready to stop if she didn't. "Pleeease," Rosie begs so sweetly, her chest heaving with ragged breath, her hand coming up to the back of his neck to grip the collar of his turtle neck. "Please, Ren-- I can't--"
"Good girl." Jerking her hips up to grab onto her better, moving one palm up to the back of her knee-- Ren picked up his pace, angling to hit her sensitive spots repeatedly until she finally came undone. With a relieved mewl, Rosie's grip on his sweater tightens as does the knot in her stomach before it finally releases, her cunt clamping down his cock once more. And as a shaky sigh escapes Rosie, eyes half-lidded and in a daze, Ren softens his touches and cold lips presses against her forehead in approval.
"Such a good girl."
____
"That's one pesky bug," Rosie internally groans, her nail tapping at the counter as she debates on turning around or not. Not like she had to when the suave and raspy voice belonged to the very man who owned her thoughts, her attention, her heart. "Should really see a doctor for that."
"Do you need something, Teo?" She questions, her tone coming out a bit snappier. Shit. Rosie hadn't meant for it to come out so… bitchy, but she was running on 2 hours of sleep from last night and wasn’t ready to face him.
“Ouch,” Teo moves to be across from her, classic Teo, needing to have her full attention. “I’m a little hurt, starshine.” He tilted his head, and Rosie’s eyes couldn’t meet his that trailed over the marks littering her tan skin.
“You had fun, dollface?” Ugh.
Him and those damn pet names that had her heart skip, her stomach flutter. Rosie huffs, putting on her best smile as she sheepishly tugs at her stylish top that did her no justice in covering the love marks Ren had left.
“Yeah,” she answers after a beat passes, trying to not lower her head in embarrassment. It came so easily to her with anyone else, anyone that wasn’t Teo. “I did actually, thank you for asking, bookie.” She snickers at his eye roll, but the quirk of his lips makes her heart leap.
“I bet I can be more fun,” Oh. Suddenly the reminder of how she was taken so well and wholly last night came to her when she felt her inner thighs ache. Her whole body really…
Inside, she was ready to accept his offer without missing a beat, but Rosie knew better than to do that. Come off as desperate? Urgh… With a slow breath out of her nose, she raises an eyebrow as she studies the man. “Really?” Really. “Well, sucks for you– I’m not really up to getting my guts rearranged a second night in a row,” she snorts, her smile forming more naturally this time. Teo shoulders jerk slightly in a silent laugh as he props his head up with a hand. “Doesn’t have to be tonight, dollface. I already got plans.” It takes Rosie everything to not sigh in disappointment.
“Text me when you do feel like rearranging those pretty guts again, Rosie.”
Rosie stands there as Teo pats the counter before taking his leave, spacing out as she tries to process his words. Not even when Elanor calls out for her does she react, not until she finally comes to her senses, excusing herself to slink off to the break room.
She needs a fucking nap.
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13, because it's my favorite number!
Steve was ashamed to admit it, but he'd never once thought to worry about Tony's health. Sure, sometimes Tony overworked himself, but it seemed impossible for him not to, with his company and SHIELD and the Avengers to work for, and the one time Pepper had mentioned stepping back, he'd shot her a look of such disdain out of the corner of his eye that everyone in the room felt the need to apologize for the suggestion.
And it wasn't like Tony was bad at taking care of himself, at least these days. He attempted to keep to a regular sleep schedule. He had a varied diet, but most times Steve noticed him gravitating to the healthier options anyway. On the days he had nothing but busywork scheduled, he managed to squeeze in an hour at the gym. He even scheduled rest time for himself (and Steve could admit, if he counted their date nights, he had a lot more relaxing time than his schedule reflected).
On top of that, Tony seemed... impossible to knock down? He complained when he was tired, but for the most part, he acted his same old self. He'd never even gotten a cold in the six years Steve had known him.
That was apparently by design, though, and Steve kicked himself for not taking the slight hesitation in Tony's movements before he reached out for Nathaniel, snot and all, to bounce on his knee more seriously.
"The responsibility for my weakened immune system is mine," Tony said, and he sounded so reasonable, but all Steve could do was stare at the oxygen mask covering his nose and mouth, because he was on his second week recovering from pneumonia. His left hand was held between both of Steve's own, and it took everything in him not to squeeze it tight. "Steve. I never told anyone about my health problems. It's not just you."
"I--" Know was on the tip of his tongue. Tony's health information was private. Had been even before Iron Man. But Steve couldn't bring himself to say it. He should have been watching. He should have realized. Tony washed his hands and disinfected things more than anyone he ever knew, but he'd thought that was rich-person eccentricity. Not health consciousness. "You can't die," he finally croaked, leaning down so he could press his forehead to the back of Tony's hand. "Please don't die."
It wasn't what he wanted to say, wasn't the proper way to convey what he meant. But he didn't know the words. All he could think about was waking up to a weak, wheezy, 'Steve, call an ambulance' as Tony burned hot beside him. All he could think about was what if he hadn't woken up. It had barely been loud enough for his enhanced hearing to hear. JARVIS wouldn't have been able to catch it and call for help himself.
He could have lost him.
When he finally lifted his head to check if Tony had fallen asleep, because he hadn't answered, he found Tony simply staring at him, blinks slow and syrupy. He sucked in a sharp breath. Tony didn't need this. He was recovering. Steve should have waited until he felt better to bring this up, wait until he was comfortable back at home--
"You're so young," Tony murmured, and Steve's breath caught in his throat. "I'm sorry I never noticed, Steve. I'll try harder to tell you these things, okay?"
"I don't want you to do something you're uncomfortable with," Steve managed, then bit his bottom lip against any other words.
Tony's mouth curved up into a wry smile. "I think my fiance should know everything about me, even the uncomfortable things."
Steve blinked at him, frowning. He felt a tear roll down his cheek. He opened his mouth, closed it. Then he choked out, "You did not just propose to me from your hospital bed."
"Is that a no?" Tony asked, brows furrowing together in concern.
"No, we're getting married, no take-backs. I'm just so... So. I'm just fucking so," Steve choked out, bringing Tony's hand up to his face again so he could press a trembling kiss to his knuckles. "I should go get the the chaplain right now. Serve you right to get married in this bed."
Tony laughed, and then he coughed, and Steve decided not to tease him about getting married in the hospital again until he was off oxygen at least.
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MORNING
In which Son Heung Min tries his hand at impressing his girlfriend with breakfast in bed (and fails).
pairing: sonny x gf!reader
warning: fluff and some suggested smut
The sound of her bare feet padding against his hardwood floor might’ve been loud at this hour if it weren’t for the fact they were merely joining in the cacophony Heungmin was already creating.
Bang
Clash
Thud
“NO!”
She grabbed at the fabric sliding off her shoulders and attempted the impossible task of making his oversized shirt fit her frame. The cotton brushed against the skin of her thighs with every step. Underneath, her bare body was still humming with the contentment he’d gifted her a few hours ago. Contentment so blissful that she’d fallen asleep less than a minute after he growled her name into her neck. She couldn’t even remember how she’d gotten from sitting in his lap to being spooned under the covers, but she wished she could – just so she could have seen Heungmin’s face when he finally realized she was going to be spending the night.
She’d thrown his discarded shirt over her head and made her way down the hall when she heard the first disgruntled-Heungmin sound, the dawn light illuminating the vacant, but warm, sport beside her.
She rounded the corner and was met with a boxer-clad Heungmin looking though his pantry with undisguised disappointment. “Are you okay?” she croaked, her voice hoarse from a lack of use combined with residual strain from last night’s screaming.
He jumped in surprise and turned to her immediately, a smile breaking across his face as he saw her using his shirt as a dress. “Hello, my love. Sorry for waking you,” he apologized, teasing her gently.
“What’re you doin’?” she asked, her usual eloquence still not quite with her.
He let out a sorry laugh and rubbed the back of his neck with his hand. “I wanted to make you breakfast in bed, but my pancake mix was expired. I swore I just bought them though,” he rambled, muttering the last part to himself. He kept talking as she took in the sight of his five o’clock shadow emphasizing his jawbone, the same jawbone she’d affectionately lavished last night. “And then I thought I could make you some eggs, because you’re always cooking to keep me alive and this is all I know how to make.”
She started languidly walking towards him while he continued explaining his foiled attempt at romanticism. By the time she was at his side, she couldn’t resist temptation anymore, so she grabbed onto his arm and lifted herself up on her tip toes to kiss him.
However, she hadn’t had the opportunity to do this before without the added high of her heels, and she fell embarrassingly short of being able to reach his mouth, so settled to peck his chin.
He stopped mid-ramble and turned his head to the side to beam at her. Raising herself back onto her toes, she looked him in the eye and murmured, “Kiss me.”
The fact he had to noticeably bend over to kiss her while she was standing at her full height was not lost on her, but it faded to the back of her mind as his hands cupped her cheeks and drew her into him. They stayed like that until her toes burned and his neck presumably felt the mutual strain. She let her eyes flutter open slowly as she lowered herself back down, melting into the way his hand slipped under the shirt to rub up and down her back.
“Heungmin,” she repeated softly, reaching around him to switch the stove off with ease.
“Hmm?” he murmured, letting his face fall so he could kiss a trail down the curve of her neck.
“Come back to bed,” she requested, tugging on the waistband of his boxers playfully.
And that he did.
#son heung min#heung min son#son heung min fluff#son heung min drabble#son heung min scenario#son heung min imagine#son heung min one shot#son heung min fic#son heung min fanfic#son heung min x reader#son heung min x you#footballer x reader#footballer imagine#footballer x y/n
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Gone too far
Summary: What if San notices his sasaengs in the crowd near you at Coachella and suddenly you are nowhere to be seen anymore?
Genre: angst, hurt/NO comfort
Pairing: bf!San X fem!reader
Additional Characters: ATEEZ - members
Word Count: 1601
Warnings: kidnapping, sasaengs, death threats, reader getting hurt, blood, panicked San, angry San, angry ateez, possibly weapons mentioned, major character death
networks: @newworldnet
notes: I apologize in advance for any tears and heartbreaks <3
other links: n/a
© by bethelighthalazia. Do not repost, copy or translate. Unless stated otherwise, those works are mine and born from my own ideas. I don't have any claim on the mentioned real existing Idols whatsoever.
Only a week ago, San had introduced you to ATINY as his girlfriend after a bit over a year of dating now. None of the boys would have thought that this would start a chain of actions that end up with what happened today and the following days.
It's the soundcheck for Coachella. You were settled near the stage, watching and cheering for San and the boys, while they made sure that their big performance would go perfectly fine. You knew that they're nervous, but you always believed in them. Every now and then, San glanced over to you, just like the other seven boys do, they all grew close to you, since you made San happy.
Unbeknownst to you, there had been some of San's fans, mainly one specific sasaeng and her friends, but San had spotted them already. He had looked worried, but you thought it would only be because he's nervous about the performance, after all, they're the first korean boy group to perform here. This thought is quickly discarded when you feel something pointy being held against your side, a hand quickly wrapped around your face to cover your mouth while you're dragged into a little crowd, out of San's view.
You could hear his voice falter through the microphone, him whispering your name first before shouting it, the panic in his voice evident. Hushed voices told you to stay quiet while you were dragged away, the sharp object by now cutting into your flesh, since you only wore one of San's crop tops he brought with him. The last thing you heard before someone knocked you out, was San's broken voice calling your name again and again, followed by the sound of his microphone dropping and some faint sobs.
— San pov —
“Where is she?” Hongjoong asked, he's fuming with anger and his voice merely an angry hiss. After San broke down on stage during the sound check, they had looked everywhere, but no one had seen y/n anywhere. Now, San was sitting on the sofa, Wooyoung trying to console him while San's eyes seemed void of any life. His hyungs were discussing the search with the bodyguards and managers, but they haven't found any lead to you yet.
While Wooyoung quietly talked to San, the door to the backstage room burst open and Jongho arrived with Yeosang, some paper in his hands. “Hyung! We found this at the spot where y/nnie was watching us from…” The maknae said quietly, handing the paper to Hongjoong. It was a collection of cut out letters, blood splatters on it. The letter said that San should forget you, or the blood wouldn't be the only thing you'd lose. With a quick glance at San, Hongjoong clenched his fists, feeling angry, but also helpless. What if these people truly hurt you? What if searching for a way to get you back to his younger member would endanger your life?
“Hyung…what's that?” San's croaked voice rang through the room, his eyes focused on the paper in Hongjoong's hand. The older one already wants to put it into his pockets, yet San was quicker, snatching the paper from the captain's hand, Wooyoung and Jongho trying to stop him but failing. When San finally reads the letter, he feels tears clouding his vision, squeezing them shut to try and refocus his eyes on the cut out letters. It doesn't take too long and his legs give out under him, causing San to drop on his knees, his breath shallow and his heart feeling as if an icy hand grips around it. “It- this…this can be a coincidence…right? We don- don´t know if this really is-” He stutters, hyperventilating while speaking. Wooyoung quickly gets down next to his best friend, trying to calm him down, but it doesn't help at all. The final blow is Jongho, who holds out his hand and then opens it, your necklace, a locket with a photo of you and san inside, dangling from his fingers, the silver of the chain and pendant covered in a crimson red.
San ́s eyes widen at this sight, frozen in shock for a few moments before he just falls against Wooyoung´s chest, sobbing uncontrollably and muttering out your name between the sobs. Hongjoong watches this for a few more moments, thinking about a solution. The letter said not to include police, but it did not say anything about getting help in other ways. The captain and Seonghwa exchange a short glance before Seonghwa gets out his phone to start a livestream from backstage, Hongjoong speaking, while the eldest makes sure to get San into the view of the camera as well.
“Hello Atiny. We know our stage should begin in a few hours, but we felt the need to come live to ask you for help. As you guys can see, San is devastated, and not only him, but all of us. Y/n, San´s girlfriend has vanished and we know that she had been taken by someone. They have sent a letter, telling San to not think about her, but his fans,” Hongjoong says calmly, but his voice is shaky as he holds up the letter they got, followed by a picture of San and you. “If any of you have seen her in the last hour, please let us or our staff know, so we can get our y/n back.”
Most comments were useless, only talking about how unfair it is that you got to be his girl, not even showing concern for you at all. However, one comment got Seonghwa´s attention, his eyes wide. ‘I saw her with friends, she seemed passed out drunk tho’. He immediately sent a private message to the person through the group´s account, asking if they could explain more. The commenter explained that you seemed somewhat out of it, one of your assumed friends holding you up but when they had asked the group if they needed help, the friends seemed to have run away. Seonghwa tried to get some more answers from the commenter, but they couldn't tell him much more. A knock on the door did pull the attention away from Seonghwa´s phone and towards the door.
Hongjoong was the one who answered the door, everyone holding their breath when they stared into the face of San ́s manager who only shook their head. “What-” The captain asked, but got cut by the manager´s words. “They´ve found her…But i don't think you should go.” He says quietly, but it's loud enough that all the boys look at him now. San tries to get up and walk towards the door, but wooyoung is quick to catch him, because his legs just give up halfway when a police officer appears behind the manager. “We need one of you to confirm that it's her.” The officer said and with a quick nod, Yunho already walked up, gesturing to the others to take care of San. Exchanging looks, the members nod, but then Wooyoung looks up at the others and waves Seonghwa over to take over holding San, so he could accompany Yunho.
The walk to where they found you felt like hours for them, neither Yunho, nor Wooyoung talking the whole time, both lost in their own thoughts. When the police officer stops, he looks at both with a concerned look, frowning. “It's not a very nice sight. But we need to know if it's her. Please step away if the sight makes you nauseous.” He says, then leads the two men to the spot they found you.
You laid there, your empty eyes staring up to the sky, at least the one that's not covered by the blood coming from a big hole that was smashed into your temple. Wooyoung grabs Yunho´s arm tightly to hold himself up at the sight, Yunho only nods and then has to avert his gaze, looking away from your destroyed body. “It- It´s y/n…” Wooyoung mumbles before stumbling away from the scene, barely holding onto his hyung before crouching down to empty his stomach outside of the police barricades. Yunho just supports his younger member before they both slowly make their way back to the backstage area where they had left San with the others, but they freeze in their tracks when they hear the blood curdling scream from the spot where the police had found your body.
Somehow, San had convinced the others to bring him here and before anyone could manage to hold him back, he had fought his way through and stumbled through the barricades. Now, he's just kneeling there, staring at your body that quickly gets covered with a white sheet, which turns red fast. His head dropped forwards on his chest, his eyes looking empty, as if all life had drained from them. Yunho and Seonghwa hurried to grab him, pulling him up and away from the scene by his upper body and San doesn't even resist, his legs dragging over the grass. The only sounds that can be heard from San are whispered words, or rather, one word; repeating your name over and over. Without hesitation, Hongjoong cancels the second Coachella performance and all concerts and anything for the next few months, even making a video statement that because of what happened, they won't be doing any live performances or anything for the time being. Then, he returns to taking care of his members, tears in his eyes because you were loved by all of them, they all were grateful for the love you gave San all the time.
taglist: @mingis-mizu, @tinyelfperson, @hotteokkay, @minkilicious, @bunnliix,
@gong-fourz, @yeosangiess, @dinossaurz, @scuzmunkie, @h3arteyes4mingi,
@vnessalau
(if you want to be added to a taglist, follow the taglist-link in my pinned post)
#kat writes <3#newworldnet#ateez#ateez san#ateez masterlist#ateez imagines#ateez fanfic#ateez oneshot#ateez fanfiction#ateez x reader#ateez scenarios#ateez angst
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Congratulations on your milestone! That’s amazing! You deserve it so much! I was hoping to request one of the prompts.
How about “You need to wake up because I can’t do this without you.” with Din.
You can make it as angsty as you want. I don’t mind. I like angst and I like fluff.
Thank you so much!
Hello, my sweet! Apologies for the delay in getting this out. I've gone full heart breaking angst, and I enjoyed every second lmao. Thank you for sending a request angel, I hope you enjoy! x
before you go
din djarin x f!mandalorianreader
Word count: 1.2k
Warnings: angst, blood, injury and death
He knows it.
Somewhere deep inside of him—he knows it, but he still clings to hope, still looks towards the light despite being shrouded in darkness.
His hands shake as they raise up to grasp either side of your helmet and pry it softly from your head, indifferent to the sounds of battle still echoing around him.
You were safe here, hidden with him behind some destroyed walls that had taken the brunt of most of the explosions. There was no one here to see you at your most vulnerable, face free and bared to the stars. No one would come, too occupied with the fight to even notice the disappearances of either of you.
He’d looked upon your face a handful of times during your extensive time together, and even though he knew the curves of your face clearly, knew the angle of your nose and the shape of your lips, the vision of what had been hidden beneath your helmet was a sweet surprise each and every time.
It’s bad, he knows it, but… but maybe it’s not. Maybe it will all be okay. Maybe you just need a moment. Maybe—
He tears his own helmet off and lets it fall to the ground beside yours, ignoring the familiar vision of them together, so similar in shape and build, the smooth beskar reflecting the shine of moonlight and the occasional flash of more blasts.
Red soaks the roughened palm of his glove when he pulls it away from cradling your head, and warmth of it radiating against his skin threatens to bring bile up his throat. His insides burn, the mix of molten rage and panic tightening his stomach into knots.
“Cyare,” he mutters, heaving you further into his arms and pressing his bare forehead against your own in an effort to press life back into your limbs.
You can take his—take it all, just open your eyes.
Dirt and the taste of blaster fire sits on his tongue when he hurriedly bites at the tips of his glove and tugs it off, but he doesn’t care because he feels it. Beneath his bare fingertips where they press into the side of your throat, he can feel a weak drum and it’s enough for him.
It’s enough to keep him grounded, enough to keep him curled around you and hoping the breath he shares with you is enough to pry you out of whatever inky abyss you float in.
“Cyare, you need to wake up. You need to wake up because I can’t do this without you.”
It’s bad, but maybe it’s not that bad.
Maybe it will be okay.
“Din,” you croak brokenly, and his heart flies.
He moves away from pressing into your forehead, just far enough to see the flutter of your lashes and the furrow of your brows but not enough that you don’t feel the reassuring wash of his warm breath over your face.
You’re here, you’re still here, and that’s enough for him.
“I’ve got you,” he breathes, letting one corner of his lips tug up into a brief semblance of a smile when your eyes finally open slowly and come to an unsteady focus on him, “I’ve got you, cyare.”
Your mouth opens, but no words come out. It’s a clear struggle, and his fingers brush along the skin of your cheek to calm the difficulty you have finding your voice.
He gives you a moment, and then another, patiently waiting for something, whether a single word or sentence, he doesn’t care.
The battle rages on in the distance, but he doesn’t dare move. He sits, arms tight around your armoured body, waiting for the reassurance that his hold is enough to keep you together, enough to keep up that soft drum beneath your skin.
“I—I can’t… feel a-anything,” you finally rasp, and a drop of blood starts to pool at the edge of your lips.
The galaxy shatters around him.
He knows.
Of course he knows.
He can feel how limp you are in his arms, how some of your limbs dragged unnaturally when he hauled you from the thick of the fight and into your secluded safety, and he’s positive the shine of his armour will glisten with red once you leave his arms.
The hope wavers in his chest, and he attempts to swallow around the thick lump sitting at the back of his throat. There’s little to add to your words. He knows, and now you know. He sees it in your eyes—the slow build of understanding that there’s no coming back from this, that this was it, the end of it all.
“Din—”
“I’m here.”
It’s not just a reassurance, it’s a promise.
He won’t leave you like this, bleeding and broken and departing from this existence alone. He’ll stay right where he is, till the very end. He’s sure that if you had any energy, you’d argue. You’d tell him to go, to fight, to leave you and save himself the agony of having to watch you die.
Instead, you’re left to lay in his arms, eyes tracing every familiar dimple and crease of his face, remembering the way his coarse splattering of facial hair felt against your skin and the way it tickled your lips whenever you were graced with a rare physical kiss.
He doesn’t know how long you have left, so he takes one more opportunity to remember the feel of your soft lips, eyes screwing shut in an effort to calm the sting of tears as he attempts to pour everything he couldn't say into that final press of lips. He holds there, against your mouth and savouring what he could, uncaring about the way your blood feels melting into the dark scruff covering his chin.
When he pulls away, he sees a tear of his own sitting on your skin, sliding down your cheek alongside your own and he’s sorry he wasn’t strong enough to hide it from you.
“I… I’m with you,” you whisper weakly, eyes noticeably heavier, “a-always.”
He watches the last breath get dragged between parted lips and he swears his heart stops with your own. He hears the broken inhale that is never balanced with an exhale, and then he knows you’re gone.
Gone.
It echoes in his mind, chipping away at the tightly wound restraint he has on his emotions. He couldn't break, not here, not now.
No, he makes a silent vow he would see this all through, that he wouldn't disappoint you wherever you are. He'd carry you with him, until the day comes where he might see your face again.
He doesn’t move for a time, taking his one last chance to memorise every little detail of your face before he finally rests your limp frame delicately against the ground and reaches for your helmet.
It's solid in his hold, and he carefully cradles your head to slip it back over your head. The heavy thud of his heart only fuels the rage simmering in the pit of his gut as he carefully returns you to a warrior, ensuring your helmet was fit snuggly before reaching for his own.
He takes a breath, the modulator crackling with the pain of it, along with one final moment of weakness to steal one last keldabe kiss with the gentle press of beskar, before standing and leaving you among the rubble and ruins, kicking back off into the air with a new fire flowing through his veins.
-
Tags: @maievdenoir, @javier-pena, @lv7867, @dihra-vesa, @katronautt, @radiowallet, @januarystears, @missminkylove, @beskarprincessjenny, @mswarriorbabe80, @danidrabbles, @amneris21, @eri16, @absurdthirst, @hnt-escape, @acourtofsnakes, @ezrasbirdie, @mstgsmy66, @lovesbiggerthanpride, @coaaster, @sherala007, @greeneyedblondie44, @wyn-n-tonic, @you-got-me-starry-eyed, @shirks-all-responsibilities, @withasideofmeg, @harriedandharassed, @andruxx, @buckybarneshairpullingkink, @spideysimpossiblegirl, @prostitute-robot-from-the-future, @tanzthompson, @mad-girl-without-a-box, @hope-for-the-best-98, @fangirl-316, @christina-loves, @jediknight122, @hallway5, @xoxabs88xox, @nicolethered, @churchill356, @massivecolorspygiant, @just-here-for-the-moment, @gracie7209, @pinkie289, @lavenderluna10, @goodgriefitsawildworld
#foli's 3k#din djarin x reader#the mandalorian x reader#din djarin x f!reader#the mandalorian x f!reader#din djarin x you#the mandalorian x you#star wars fanfiction#the mandalorian fanfiction#the mandalorian fic#din djarin fic
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Forever and always.. or maybe never. Part 2
[Part 1] [Alternate Ending]
Pairings: Aemond Targaryen x reader
Hanahakis Disease!AU
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon or Fire & Blood characters. I do not claim any of them as my own. This work is purely fictional.
Summary: You're dead, and now Aemond must suffer the consequences of loving someone he can never have. How long until he can no longer handle it?
❗️TW❗️: Harsh language, mentions of blood and throwing up, character death, mentions of sexual situations, mentions of infidelity, slight violence, arguments, mentions of childbirth
(A/N: Part 2 is here! It took me a minute to put this together because I had so many ideas on how to do it, so I hope it is to your liking. I would love to hear thoughts, opinions, and ideas on it as well, I'm always open for criticism/suggestion! My asks/inbox are always open as well, I love nothing more than to talk about my fics, or just to you guys in general! I'm always up for having more mutuals on here! Also, if you are interested in the alternate ending for part 1, I posted a poll on what you would like to read in it, so feel free to vote. Anyways, enjoy!)
Word Count: 2,329
Taglist: @libdarkheart @bibli0thecary @earthangels-things @iiamthehybrid @bellameshipper @introverbatim (I believe that is everyone who asked to be tagged?? I apologize if I missed anyone)
It was hours before anyone was allowed to take your body. Aemond had sat there, clutching you as you turned cold and stiff, staring off into the distance as the young boy inside his head wailed endlessly. It had been Helaena who convinced Aemond to let you go, and Daeron who supported him while he carried you to the maesters. Alicent was the first to cry out as you were pronounced officially dead, a piece of the queen's heart seeping through her lips as she wept against your hand. The small smart-mouthed girl that arrived nearly a decade and a half ago now lay unspeaking before her very eyes.
“Tell me you were there” Alicent croaked out.
“ Mother?” Daeron was the only one to question the queen. Helaena knew the question was not for her and Aemond still stood unmoving.
“ Tell me you were by her side, Aemond! That she did not die alone!” Alicent stared directly at Aemond now, even if he did not look back.
“ You think so low of me, that I would let her die unheld?” Aemond whispered.
“ I did not think you would cause her such heartbreak and yet here we are!” Alicent cried out. The fire in her eyes might even make you believe she was a Targaryen in more than just marriage.
“ I did not know” Aemond argued softly.
“ Then you will not know the time of her rest as well” All air sucked itself from the room and Aemond’s cardinal-rimmed eyes shot to his mother.
“ You can not keep me from it” Where an authoritative edge was expected, vulnerability came instead.
“ I am your mother and the queen dowager, I will do as I please” Alicent spoke harshly, “ I will take Aemys to the ceremony. I expect you to get rid of that bastard wet nurse in the meantime.”
“ Mother-”
“ I will hear no more, Aemond! If I see you there, you will be thrown in a cell until it’s over” Alicent warned one last time while brushing hair from your face. She bent down to place a motherly kiss on your crown before turning away swiftly. Shortly after her departure, Daeron said his peace as well, followed by Helaena. Finally, Aemond stood alone with you once more. It didn’t take long for his legs to weaken and buckle, taking him down to his knees. The memory of the last time he had been on his knees for you tore a sob from his throat.
“What are you doing?” You giggled in astonishment as Aemond removed his tunic and knelt at your feet. His hands dipped in the warm lilac water that your swollen feet soaked in.
“ I’m going to massage the knots from your feet” Aemond explained, watching as your face contorted in bliss when his fingers dug into the right spot.
“ That is what the maids are for, my love.” You proclaimed before laughing again, ”Most husbands would scoff at the thought of massaging their lady wife.”
“ I am not most husbands, am I?” Aemond countered, smirking up at you. He took one of his hands from the water to caress your swollen stomach. Though he had soaked your night shift with water, you could care less.
“ I suppose not” You sighed contently, “Avy jorrāelan.” I love you.
“ Avy jorrāelan, Ñuha prūmia. Besides, it is the least I can do when I am the reason why you ache in the first place” Aemond continued to soothe the bump, hoping to feel movement. Kicks were his favorite, they usually occurred whenever you laughed. As if on cue, a flutter of movement blossomed underneath his touch as you chuckled at his statement.
“ If I recall correctly, I was a part of that same reason” You took a towel from beside you as spoke and let it flutter to the floor. Carefully, and with assistance, you removed your feet from the water onto the dry cotton.
“ Mhm, that is true, you even had me on my back at one point” Aemond snorted.
“ As I remember, you seemed to enjoy it quite a bit” You teased.
“ Did I? Perhaps you’ll have to remind me” Aemond surged at you before you could even comprehend what was happening. His lips moved deeply against yours as he shifted you to lay back.
“ Aem!” You gasped in delight, holding onto his shoulders.
“ Yes, Ñuha prūmia?” He cooed mischievously, gleaming down at you like the Cheshire cat.
“ This is nowhere near the position we were talking of, ñuha zaldrīzes!” Dragon. Your dragon, always. Aemond nipped at your neck upon hearing the endearment that always caused his heart to stutter.
“ Mhm, ‘tis not, but I quite like this position” He murmured hotly against your neck.
“ You won’t like it when it’s the position I give birth in” You whispered. It’s not that you were scared of your first child’s birth or of death itself, you just worried about never meeting your child if you did perish.
“ Stop that” Aemond scolded.
“ Stop what, I’m-”
“ Overthinking. I can feel it” He rose slightly to press his forehead to yours, "Both of you will make it out just fine, though I imagine the babe might still scream well afterward”
Aemond was right, Aemys did cry well into the night after his birth until you were awake and well to hold him that is. It’s ironic, Aemond thinks, how similar that was to now. You were unconscious after a taxing birth, now you lay unconscious on a pyre. Aemys screamed for you then, and he screams for you now, despite Aemond being there both times.
“ Muña! Muñaaaaa!” Aemond silently braided a piece of the thrashing toddler's hair as he kicked and screamed. Even at three years of age, he was clever enough to know something was wrong.
“ Muñaaa-”
“ Aemys, please..” Aemond sighed tiredly, turning the child to face him.
“ Jaelagon. Muña.” Want. Mother. By the seven Aemond wanted you too, but he couldn’t have you. The realization caused a tightness in his chest, a breathless one, but he refused to cough.
“ I know, byka zaldrīzes, I’m sorry.” Little Dragon. Aemys truly was still little and it broke Aemond’s heart that you would never get to see him grow big and strong. He brought the distressed toddler to his chest and held him tight, tears soaking onto the small amethyst tunic he had been wrangled into.
“ Aemond” Alicent called out from the doorway, poised in an onyx dress with a belt of deep purple jewels to match her grandson and a hand full of lilacs. Your faithful hyena, Lark appeared as well, striding into the room slowly.
“ Be good for your grandmother” Aemond spoke quietly but firmly, before standing to full height. He watched as Aemys toddled over to Alicent, giggling as Lark lapped the tears off his cherubic cheeks.
“ Muña?” Aemys whispered, your eyes shining up at Alicent through his.
“Mama?” the young girl croaked, peering up at a young Alicent Hightower.
“ Your mother isn’t here-” Her voice faltered at the heartbreak in your innocent eyes, “but surely we can see her later, alright? Now, what else would you like, little one?”
“Flowers?” Alicent chuckled, before taking your small hand in hers.
“ I suppose I can show you the lilacs..they’re my favorite” The queen whispered down to you, smiling when your face lit up. You may not have been hers, and despite Viserys being the one to invite you, it was the queen who took you under her wing.
“Mother.” Alicent’s head snapped up to look at Aemond, breaking from her memories. She blinked rapidly to dispel the water weight from her eyes.
“ Your mother isn’t here, but we’ll see her…someday” Alicent reassured, taking Aemys little hand in her own. Aemond watched as they went before leaving the room himself. He trudged up to a small room at the top of the tallest viewpoint in the castle. Dreamfyre was circling the skies, waiting for Helaena to say Dracarys.
“ Aemond!” The sound of his name on your tongue lapped at his ear and your footsteps echoed past him. Dreamfyre now flew towards the grassy knoll.
“You’re handsome to me” The ghost of your fingers prickled goosebumps near his scar. Dreamfyre landed upon the ground.
“Avy jorrāelan”
“Avy jorrāelan.” Your proclamation of love faded away with a hot wind as Aemond’s rang through the air. Dreamfyre hurled fire as Aemond hurled petals.
Whereas your suffering lasted two months, Aemond’s lasted a year. He never tried to conceal, nor cure it. Aemond once said he would die without you and he meant it. Over the course of his downfall, several had tried to convince him to remarry.
“She’s gone, Aemond-”
“ Do not speak my name. I am a prince, refer to me as such.” Aemond snapped coldly at Alys, who stood in front of him and his family in the hall. Unfortunately with a slightly swollen belly accompanying her. The very sight of it made Alicent and even Helaena nauseous. You had only been gone a few months.
“ Apologies, my prince-”
“ I did not say your prince, I am nothing of yours.” Aemond corrected once more.
“ You were once” Alys spoke, gazing wickedly at the man before her.
“ You tricked me, bewitched me” Aemond sneered.
“ I merely used your lady wife’s blood to make you think I was her. You, Aemond Targaryen are the one who chose to believe it. You began to love m-”
“ I loved her, not you! It will always be her-” Aemond turned swiftly as he felt the familiar dryness creep up his throat and out onto his hand, bringing rivers of scarlet in its wake.
“ I was going to offer myself up to you for marriage, but it seems that your wife still calls to you even from the ground.” Alys tuts, “Such a pity that I couldn’t have either of you in the end.”
Pity. It was a thing that Aemond found himself receiving often. Lords would offer their pity on losing such a gorgeous young wife. Ladies of the court pitied him for losing the only woman who could ever love a monster like him. Even Aegon pitied him, but not for the right reasons.
“It’s a pity that you lost your wife brother, because now I have to find you another one through alliance. Which mother loathes me for because she believes it’s too soon” Aegon grumbled the last part into his chalice as to avoid his mother's glare.
“ I will not take another wife” Aemond didn’t bother to eat nor look at anyone, he was only sitting at the table for duty’s sake anyway. In his head, he was in a whole other world where you were alive and happy.
“ You will remarry, to a Baratheon girl. You will remarry, forget about your old wife, which will get rid of those damned petals you leave everywhere, and then sire more children” Aegon chuckled darkly.
“ No.” Aemond refuted.
“ Yes-”
“No! I will not take another wife as long as I lo-” Aemond wasn’t able to say the word much these days without it being an instant reaction. The blonde looked down at his hands and saw not only flowers but thorns. He was nearing his end.
Aemond’s end wouldn’t come for many more months. Leaving him time to try and end his life quicker. Many morrows would pass and for each one Aemond sat on his knees in front of Vhagar, but nothing ever came of it. Either the dragon refused to kill another rider, or she agreed with Alicent on the fact that Aemond deserved to suffer as you did. Aemond also lived to see Aemys reach another birthday. He spent as much time with the boy as he could in between his duties. It was the only time he could ever get a glimpse of you outside of his mind. The four-year-old’s eyes had become windows to your soul. Not only did Aemys have your eyes, but he had begun to display your mannerisms as well. Mimicking the way you used to carry yourself, the way you talked, and ate as well. The only thing he held of Aemond was hair and emotional range. Though the latter did not develop until after your death.
“ Aemys, father must go now.” Aemond stood in full armor at the child’s bedchamber door.
“ Okay.” Aemys spoke with a soft smile before figuring out how to say his next words, “Tell Muña I say hi”
Aemond’s expression fell before it was quickly replaced. He memorized the look of his son once more before taking off down the hall towards Vhagar. Aemys’s words repeated through his head as he flew toward God's Eye. Blood trailed from the corner of his lips and nose, but he ignored and braved on. He would die a dragon rider's death, a brave death, so that he may meet you again in the afterlife. The universe, however, like before, had crueler plans. Air began to solidify into silk beneath the tissue of Aemond’s lungs. His bronchioles turned to thorns, and trachea to roots, all while his body remained the soil.
“ I-I lov-” For the first time since your death, Aemond sobbed. He needed to say it, needed to say he loved you before he died. The sky, the clouds, the stars, the universe, all of it needed to know how he truly loved you. Aemond could not see caraxes flying towards him with a rider confused on why his nephew was kneeled over before the battle had even begun. Daemon would not attack an injured rider, it would bring him no pride or glory. Instead, he watched as Aemond slid sideways from Vhagar and plummeted towards the river.
“ Avy jorrāelan” “ Avy jorrāelan” This time it was your proclamation of love that engulfed Aemond’s just as the river of sea and blood consumed him. Aemond Targaryen could not feel the crisp coldness of the water, only the soft warmth of your hands pulling him in.
#aemond targaryen#aemond x reader#aemond targaryen x reader#aemond targaryen angst#hotd#hotd fanfic#house of the dragon#house of the dragon angst#angst
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Please can we have the conclusion to the lipstick ask? I wanna hear what Viktor has to say and how he's gonna apologize for being dumb
Final (fourth) Part!
[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3]
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Viktor x fem!Reader (18+)
Content tags: enthusiastic blowjobs | face sitting | Viktor being kind of a tease | vaginal fingering
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-You stand in your doorway, frozen. Of all the people you’d expected to see at your door - a stranger, a delivery driver, one of your neighbors - Viktor is not one of them. After everything that had transpired between the two of you, you were certain that he wouldn’t have wanted to seek you out.
-After staring at him for a moment though, completely perplexed, your gaze darts downwards, to where he’d fidgeting with his hands. Or rather…to where he’s fidgeting with…a potted plant?
-It’s just a small pot, with an even smaller leafy thing in it - scraggly and viney and drooping all over the edges. The poor thing almost looks pathetic, with how wispy it is, but what’s most notable about it are its flowers.
-Bitty bundles of miniscule blooms, so pale that they almost glow in the gloom of the evening.
- “You don’t like it when people behead flowers just to give them as gifts,” Viktor says, finally breaking the silence. “You think it’s mean. But I…wanted to get you something, and you mentioned a while ago that you’d never seen the little plants that sometimes pop up between cracks in the undercity.”
-You frown slightly, trying to think back to when you’d even had that conversation. It would have been years ago, by now. Had he really somehow retained that information?
- “You said that they were hard to find,” you nod along, only somewhat remembering. “And prettier in person. Viktor, what are you doing here?”
-He glances a couple times between you and the flowers, searching desperately for words. He opens his mouth a couple of times, taking a breath to start speaking, but…nothing comes out, save for a soft croak.
-Pink rises to his cheeks, darkening to a substantial flush the longer the two of you stand there. You have half the mind to be annoyed with his sudden appearance, especially after the kind of emotional hell he’d put you through: was this him trying to apologize? Trying to make things right after carving your heart out and grinding it into-
- “I had a whole speech planned,” he finally mutters, his somewhat-hopeful expression falling. “Some grand gesture, explaining everything from my perspective. Explaining how inebriated I was over the weekend, explaining that my mind was not where it should have been.”
-Oh.
-So he’s apologizing for sleeping with you.
-...why does that hurt so much?
- “This morning, though,” he continues, “You…you said that you…told me how you felt. That you, despite all odds, have secretly been harboring romantic feelings for me for years, and I’ve been stupid and oblivious.”
-He rubs little circles into the crisp clay of the pot in his grip, his lips pressed into a thin line.
- “I don’t remember,” he admits, then.
-You’re fully taken aback.
- “I don’t remember you telling me how you felt. I don’t remember much of our conversation at all. I just…remember laughing with you. Having a good time. Feeling lighter than I have in as long as my memory goes. And I…I don’t remember a lot of what happened…later.”
-Judging by the hue of his cheeks, you know exactly what he’s referencing, and you pop out of your little trance long enough to realize that you’re still standing in the doorway of your home, out where anyone could hear what you were saying.
-Everything in you is screaming at you not to trust him, to not fall for some kind of ploy again, but you decide to ignore it: because maybe you’d been wrong from the start. Maybe you’d been given the incorrect information, and you’d made assumptions, and maybe it’s a misunderstanding.
-Unlikely, but…you’ll hate yourself for it later if you don’t at least hear him out.
-So you quietly step aside, allowing Viktor to stride into your apartment enough for you to close the door behind him. Casting you both into a new type of silence as you both idle at the end of the hallway for a couple seconds.
-Before you nod him further in, and lead him to your quaint living room. Your couches are mismatched, and dated, but they’re comfortable and you don’t really care about the fact that they clash. The two of you find your seats across from each other, and Viktor sets the little plant down on your wobbly coffee table.
-He wastes no time in continuing his explanation.
- “If I had remembered what words had been exchanged between us, I wouldn’t have called that night a mistake,” he tells you, with the utmost seriousness. “I woke up beside you with broken, mismatched fragments of everything, and I fear I pieced them together incorrectly.”
- “I assumed that you would be angry with me,” he admits. “We got drunk, we had sex - I figured-”
- “That I would have thought it was a mistake,” you finish, your shoulders drooping with the realization. “You forgot that I told you I loved you, so your mind went to the worst place. God, Viktor.”
-You push yourself off the couch and nearly trip over your own feet as you move your seat to his side. “I wish you’d just told me,” you chastise him, pressing yourself right up against his side. “We’re adults, which means we can have a grown up conversation.”
-He at least has the sense to look ashamed of his actions, even as you run your fingers through his hair and draw him into a hug.
- “I forgive you,” you sigh, squeezing him a little harder when he hesitates wrapping his arms around you, and only once he does so do you continue speaking, “But you need to stop trying to predict my reactions, okay? Even if you’re anxious about what I might say, I need you to trust that I’ll face any issues with compassion. I need you to trust me.”
-His sigh tickles the soft hairs on your neck, but you’re still able to feel the minute shift in his body as he nods.
- “Okay,” he agrees quietly. “I- okay.”
-The two of you stay like that for a little while, wrapped up in each other’s arms, enjoying the closeness and allowing all the negative feelings from the day to slowly dissipate. And they do, eventually - as you allow his warmth to seep into your bones, your anxiety fades, your anger fades, your sadness fades - mostly.
-You’re still saddened slightly, by the fact that his first instinct was to prepare for your anger upon finding out you slept with him. But you suppose you can’t fault him too much: he’s spent most of his life being an unwanted second thought, despite the fact that you have never seen him that way.
-But…that’s a talk for another time.
-For now, you pull back from him slightly, just enough to rest your forehead against his to stare into his pretty honey eyes. You want to warn him about what you’re going to do - after everything that’s happened, you feel like you should. But he beats you to the chase.
-Closing the small gap between you, his lips find yours. Barely a fluttering touch, soft and simple, but enough to coax you forward into something deeper. Something hotter, sending off millions of little flutters within your chest as your breath mixes and you press yourself harder against him. Or perhaps he draws you in closer.
-You’re not sure.
-You suppose it doesn’t matter.
-You’re fumbling with the buttons of his shirt after a couple of minutes, trying your best to pull away from him enough to see what you’re doing: though he’s having none of it. His lips locate some other patch of exposed skin, latching on with mischievous intent as he begins trying to leave a bruise.
- “I’m trying to get you naked,” you grumble, without any sort of malice. You can feel him grin against your throat for a moment, before he sinks his teeth in hard enough that you have to pause what you’re doing, a soft whine falling past your parted lips.
- “I’m not stopping you,” he replies, breath tickling your skin. You fight the urge to roll your eyes at him, though you feel nothing but affection.
-He doesn’t make removing his clothes easy for you, not by any means. He teases you relentlessly throughout the process, making little quips and remarks, just for the sake of driving you up the wall.
- “I don’t remember you being this chatty,” you huff, finally removing his shirt in the most offended manner possible. You’re covered in little bite marks by then, and riled up beyond the point of impatience: you never knew that Viktor of all people was prone to running at the mouth.
- “Perhaps you should find a way to shut me up, then?” he suggests, grinning up at you where you sit on his lap.
-It pushes you over the edge.
-You stand up without a word, shoving yourself off him in a frustrated flurry. He looks startled for a couple of moments, and you can practically see the gears turning in his head: wondering if he’d done something wrong, or if he’d overstepped, or if you’d changed your mind.
-You soften by a fraction when you realize he’s probably just nervous. He’d recently been of the mind that you were angry with him, after all, and you’re willing to bet that he’s got some residual anxiety.
- “Go and get comfy on my bed,” you tell him, nodding towards the open door that leads to your room. “If you want me to shut you up, then I’ll do so by putting your mouth to use. You seemed pretty keen on it last time, too.”
-It takes a second for him to understand what you’re implying, but the moment the pieces click into place, he’s on his feet. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him move so quickly in all the time you’ve known him, and you worry for a brief second that he’s going to cause extra trouble for his knee later.
-But he’s eager to draw you out of your thoughts, gaining your attention once he disappears into the depths of your bedroom. “I thought you were going to do something,” he calls, and you can hear the brief shuffle of clothing, followed by the creak of your mattress.
- “Janna, you’re impatient,” you grumble, though you’re unable to hide the crooked grin that tugs at the corners of your mouth.
-You find him comfortably settled in the center of your bed a couple moments later, and he’s been courteous enough to divest himself of his trousers. Left them in the middle of the floor, mind you, but that’s a problem for later, you suppose.
-He smiles sweetly at you from where he reclines against all the pillows you keep the company of, and lazily gestures towards his face. “You are taking an awfully long time,” he quips.
-You narrow your eyes at him, only breaking contact when you pull your shirt over your head. You’ve half a mind to feel shy about baring yourself to him the way you are, until you remember that you’ve been here before. He might not entirely recall all of the weekend’s events, but you’re quite certain he wouldn’t forget what you look like naked.
-Despite all this, he stares. Watches with rapt attention as you kick the rest of your clothes off and carefully fold them over the back of your door. Lets his lovely honey gaze trail across every curve of your body, almost lecherous and without an ounce of shame.
- “You’re still not sitting on my face,” he tells you, though it’s less of a demand and more of a whine.
-In any case, you decide to have mercy on him. You slowly clamber onto your bed, and make your way up his body, stopping every couple inches to lay kisses to the pale warmth of his exposed flesh. Stopping for a few moments to tease him.
- “All we’ve been doing is kissing,” you murmur, staring down at where his cock lays against his tummy, already hard and flushed the prettiest shade of red at the tip. “You really want it, don’t you?”
-A sharp sigh passes his lips when you stoop down just slightly, to lick a flat stripe up the side. It’s barely enough to be considered pleasurable, and yet such a simple touch sends little tremors through his body. You watch entranced as a pearlescent bead wells from the tip of his cock, and begins drooling down towards his stomach.
-Well that won’t do, you think, and wrap your hand around him.
-His soft little sighs turn into broken cries, when you bring his length to your mouth. Closing your lips around him, you slowly start bobbing your head - it’s messy and filthy, and you can feel your spit dripping down over your fingers, slicking him up and making it easier to slide your fist around him.
-He’s less chatty now, as you’d put it, but he’s no quieter. Debauched little moans fall past his lips, without a care in the world, as you continue your onslaught. Tightening your hand by a fraction, stroking a little faster, sucking a little harder. You can feel his thighs quake beneath you, strung tight with pleasure.
- “Wait-” he gasps, and you freeze.
-You pull your mouth off him, worried for a moment that you’d done something wrong…until you see the way he looks at you.
-Breathless and hazy, half-lidded honey eyes nearly eclipsed by the black of his pupils. Looking at you like you’ve given him the moon, cheeks flushed and lips parted…
-Oh.
- “Are you really about to come?” you wonder, giving him a few teasing strokes. He whines again in response, and bats aimlessly at your hand until you finally release him.
- “Alright,” you agree, continuing your path up his body, “I guess I’ll be nice this time.”
-You stop briefly at his face, smiling softly at him before bringing your lips together. It’s a tender kiss, almost innocent with the way you melt into each other, though it doesn’t take long for the mood to settle back in. You pull away from him, with one last bite to his bottom lip, and hoist yourself upwards.
-It’s a little bit awkward, you’ll admit, hovering above Viktor’s face like you are, rather than being on your back. Part of you worries that you might squish him, or somehow suffocate him, even though you know he’d be happy to go in such a way.
-He wraps his arms underneath your thighs, scooting you a little further up.
-Staring at you.
-Nudging you down towards him.
-You humour him a little bit, lowering yourself down a couple centimeters, so that you’re close enough for him to reach you. But apparently it’s not enough. His grip tightens on you, and he urges you to come closer still, despite the fact that if you do, he’ll have nowhere to move his head.
- “You’re supposed to sit on my face,” he quips, with a quirk of a brow. “You know, like a chair? Sit?”
- “I don’t want to kill you or something!” you whine, embarrassment creeping up the back of your neck. “What if I like - I dunno, break your spine? Or your jaw? Or-”
- He seems to lose some of his patience then, pulling you down with strength you didn’t realize he possessed. You gasp at the sudden shift in position, but you’re barely able to collect your thoughts before his mouth starts moving against you - and oh god you almost forgot how divine his tongue is.
-He eats you out like a man starved, working his tongue against you in differing patterns, so that you never know what to expect. Closing his lips around your clit to suck gently on it. It sends a warm wash of pleasure over you, until he flicks the tip of his tongue against it within his mouth.
-If you’d been hovering over him at that point, your legs would have given out. A cry nearly punching itself out of your lungs. The white hot, unrelenting sensation between your legs.
-You have to grip the headboard so you don’t tip over.
-Slack jawed and holding on for dear life, you cry and moan and tremble as Viktor brings you closer to the edge. Lapping up every drop of fluid as it drools out of you, as if you’re the finest delicacy he’s ever had the pleasure of tasting.
-And oh, when he slides two slender fingers into you.
-You’re gone. Too lost in your desire to come to care much about appearances. You all but grind against his face, feeling his digits working inside you. Spreading you open to prepare you for his thick cock, curling them perfectly against that sweet little spot within you.
-You don’t even have time to warn him about your oncoming orgasm. It crests over you with sudden ferocity, tensing every muscle in your body as it fully encompasses you. All you can feel is Viktor, easing you through it, groaning as he drinks you in and witnesses you at the height of your pleasure.
-Basking in the fact that he’s the one who’s made you feel good.
-It takes a good thirty seconds for you to come back to yourself, breathless and trembling, leaning heavily against the headboard while you try to gather your thoughts.
-Viktor’s hands, slowly stroking up and down your thighs, drawing little patterns into the supple squish of your hips. Your eyes meet for a brief moment, and he grins up at you with the most shit-eating expression you’ve ever seen him wear. Entirely too pleased with himself.
-You can’t help but share the sentiment, mirroring his smile.
-You crawl off him a couple moments later, now intent on bringing the same rapture to him. Only…his confident smirk turns somewhat sheepish, and the moment he turns around, you see why.
- “Viktor,” you’re barely able to withhold your delighted glee. “Did you come from eating me out?”
-You watch as an embarrassed flush travels up his neck, across his cheeks and out to the tips of his ears. He stumbles over his words for a few seconds, trying desperately to explain himself and promise that he’ll be ready to go again in a little while.
-But you don’t care.
-You flop down beside him, and pull him into a deep, tender kiss. Pressing your body flush against his, drawing him impossibly closer by crooking your leg over his hip.
- “You’re perfect,” you sigh, before his lips find yours again.
#viktor x reader#viktor arcane x reader#arcane x reader#viktor headcanons#though it's more of a bullet point story#requests are open but slow!
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Tease
[Part I] [Part II] [Part III] [Part IV] [Part V]
[Morpheus x F!Reader]
Summary : You and Morpheus are playing a game, and this is just round one.
Warning : None.
"What is it that you seek?"
Your spine straightens at the sound of his voice.
You'd hoped that he wouldn't pay a visit to the library.
What you had done in the training room had started a rather dangerous game.
There had been teasing from his side, of course, you just hadn't realised that until…until the last session. But that was subtle, now it's—
"Tell me and I shall fulfil your desire."
That.
"I…" You clear your throat. Gaze still glued to the bookshelf. "You don't have to trouble yourself with it, Lucienne—"
"Lucienne is preoccupied with a task I assigned, I'm afraid."
His footsteps make no sound, but you know he has stepped closer. There's a certain current in the air—the one that surrounds the dreaming but is so much more obvious near him—that presses against your skin more insistently.
"It is just you and I."
You gulp, eyes closing briefly. Shit.
"Tell me," he commands. "It would be my pleasure to be of service to you."
Oh, fuck me.
"A book," you croak out.
He waits for you to continue. You don't. Stubborn. Unrelenting.
He hums. "Very well."
You startle at the firm hand at your waist. Spinning you to face him, it tugs you sideways.
Before you can say anything, Morpheus is leaning down, alarmingly close to your face, his cheek brushing yours slightly.
Your eyes widen. "What-what are you doing?"
He turns his face in your direction. This close, he is the picture of innocence. Ocean dipped eyes, and faintly pouting lips.
"Searching your book, of course," he answers, plain and simple. It's anything but.
Turning back to his search, he starts scanning the titles.
"Is it 'Written on the body'?" He muses out loud. Casually draping his other arm on your open side, next to your head. Effectively caging you in. "Or perhaps..." His lips graze your ear. "Bad behaviour?"
Heat pooling low in your belly, you stifle a whimper, flushing red. "No."
He steps closer. The bookshelf digs in your back. "My apologies, could you repeat yourself?"
He's once again facing you, nose all but nuzzling into your cheek.
Breath hitching, your eyes flutter. Finding it difficult to form a coherent sentence, your tongue stays tangled.
Kiss me, you think. Please just kiss me.
But he won't.
That'll mean he loses the game.
You want him to do it anyway.
"I have what you desire, let me give it to you."
"What?" You whisper.
Something pushes against your front, you peer down.
The book.
Eyes snapping up to him, you blush again.
There's a tiny curl at the corner of his lips, the only indication of his smug smirk of satisfaction.
"Your book, what else?"
He pulls back, stepping away from you. Giving you a once over, he turns, coat swirling with the moment, and starts to walk away.
•••
"Won't you wait and see what the book is about?"
He halts just as he is about to turn the corner.
Having gotten somewhat control over your racing heart, your mouth has finally deemed it fit to open up.
You couldn't let him win this round, now, can you?
Depositing the book on top of the table, you stride in his direction with an extra sway.
His back faces you, even though you're standing right behind him, he still won't turn.
Well, the opportunity is all but screaming to be used, so why not?
Standing on your tiptoes, your hands come to rest on his shoulders as you press your front to his back. His muscles tense, boosting your confidence.
Moving your face near his, chin settling next to your hand. "It's a poetry book. Let me read you one of my favourites," you chirp.
Your opposite hand starts playing with the hair on his nape.
A carnal instinct yearns to yank him by those silken strands and kiss him into a senseless mess.
Focus, you reprimand yourself.
"I crave your mouth," you begin, voice a rasp. "Your voice, your hair." A pointed tug at the hair curled around your fingers has him hissing.
"Silent and starving," you whisper. "I prowl through the streets. Bread does not nourish me, dawn disrupts me, all day."
Your lips graze his ear. "I hunt for the liquid measure of your steps."
A shiver—a very visible shiver, is your reward.
You pull back, walking in front of him. Hands going behind your back, you peer up at him, biting your lips.
"Nice isn't it?"
You leave without hearing his response. Relishing in the burn of his gaze that sears your back.
I win.
………………………………………………………………………
A/N :
“I crave your mouth, your voice, your hair. Silent and starving, I prowl through the streets. Bread does not nourish me, dawn disrupts me, all day I hunt for the liquid measure of your steps.” This is a poem by Pablo Neruda.
Here it is! Part two.
What do you guys think? Tension? Chemistry?
Hope you guys enjoyed this.
Thankyou! ❤️
#morpheus x reader#morpheus x you#the sandman x reader#the sandman x you#dream of the endless x you#dream of the endless x reader#lord morpheus#dream of the endless#the sandman netflix
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No Light Without Darkness - Part Three
Part One / Part Two
Sebastian Sallow x F!MC - Request, dark, angst, mild smut NSFW 🔞
After the third day of no appearance, Sebastian had come to the conclusion that MC really had taken his words to heart and she would never return. He had meant it at the time, but as he sat and stared at his cell wall, he realised that he missed her daily chatter. She had been a glimpse of light, and now he found he wanted it back. Without it, the darkness was more suffocating than ever before.
....*....
The first thing MC noticed on waking was the stiffness. Her body felt like it had seized, her limbs uncooperative and heavy. She blinked against the light streaming in through a window, struggling to sit up. Where was she?
Hands pressed gently to her shoulders, urging her back against the pillows. It was a nurse from the look of her uniform, her face kind as she told MC to relax.
"Where am I?" MC croaked. "What happened?"
"You had an unfortunate accident and you are in St Mungos hospital. Now, lay back, you still need your rest." The nurse was firm but spoke kindly. "You took quite a hit from a barrage of curses, but you're healing up nicely. It's good to see you finally awake."
MC frowned, looking down at the bandages on her arms, the tight feel of one around her middle. "How long have I been here?"
"Almost a week, dear. Like I said, you took quite a hit."
MC's stomach clenched then rolled. Sebastian! She felt the nausea grip her and bolted upright. The nurse was quick and had a bowl to hand. It was over quickly, her stomach empty after days of being out cold.
MC trembled in her shock, memories beginning to surge in of the raid on the Ashwinder camp. It had gone bad, their numbers greater than anticipated. MC hadn't been on her best form, the call to finally go and drive them out coming the day after she had last been to Azkaban.
Her mind had been consumed with Sebastian, her concentration lacking from no sleep and emotional stress, and she had fucked up.
MC groaned and lay back against the pillows, exhausted. What a mess.
"When can I leave?" She asked. She needed to get to Sebastian. She had left him alone with all those Dementors, defenceless and in a terrible state.
The nurse gave her a stern look. "Not for a few days yet. And, dont even think about sneaking out of here. I know you Aurors, and I'm not going to stand for it."
After a long nap, MC awoke to the sight of Jenkins sitting in the chair next to her bed. MC saw the tight expression on her superior's face and felt her insides sink miserably. She was in so much trouble.
She moved to sit up. Jenkins stood and helped to adjust her pillows. He gave her a pained smile. "I've gotta say, MC. It's a bloody relief to see you awake. Thought we'd lost you there for a bit."
"I'm so sorry..."
Jenkins held his hand up, stopping her apologies. "Nope, none of that. Although, I have to say, you have been performing well below par recently. It's not like you to be so slack, which is why I paid a bit more attention to what's been going on."
"What do you mean?" MC shifted, getting comfortable.
"I was hoping you could tell me," Jenkins said. He sat in his chair, hands clasped. He gave her a look. "How about we start with an explanation as to why you've been sneaking into Azkaban prison to visit a prisoner named Sallow?"
MC gaped, her mouth dropping open in shock. He knew!? Oh my, she really was in trouble!
Jenkins frowned. "Yes, I know about your little visits. I took the liberty of looking in to this Sallow chap, wondering if perhaps he was a lead on the Ashwinder case, but no. It seems he is banged up for the murder of his own uncle, and, what's even more intriguing, he was one of your closest friends at Hogwarts School."
MC closed her eyes, her shoulders slumping as she sighed in defeat. Jenkins was well connected. He would have had no trouble digging up the information he wanted. He probably knew even more than he had said.
"Care to explain, MC?" Jenkins folded his arms.
MC looked at him. He didn't look angry, just curious. She nodded and took a steadying breath, and then she told him everything, from her arrival at Hogwarts, to meeting Sebastian, and their desire to cure Anne. It took a while to tell her story, especially when some parts had brought forth tears and she had to stop to catch her breath.
Jenkins listened intently, brow furrowed, asking a question every now and then. When MC finally finished, ending with her last visit to the prison and the state Sebastian had been in, she was wrung out, collapsing against the pillows with a sigh.
"I vaguely remember Solomon Sallow," Jenkins said. "Grumpy bastard he was. He left the force after some bad stuff went down, he got caught with his feet on the wrong side of the tracks so to speak. I'm not surprised he came down hard on youngsters like that, but it doesn't excuse murder, MC."
"Believe me, it was never the plan to kill him. I was so shocked when he began to attack us," she said. "But if Sebastian hadn't taken him down, then I wouldn't be here now, or it would be me in that prison instead, because Solomon had no intention of stopping. He would have killed me if Sebastian hadn't stopped him."
Jenkins nodded thoughtfully. "Indeed, it does sound like a case of self defence. And two kids against an Auror no less. I don't like it. Something stinks here. Why didn't you stand witness before the Wizengamot?"
"I was a minor still, and a girl," MC said. "There was so much other stuff going on too, what with Ranrok and the loyalists, and Sebastian had been taken away before I even had a chance to try and explain. Professor Black wouldn't have another word said about it, already too concerned with covering up the fact that a student under his care had turned murderer."
Jenkins' face tightened further. "Hmm, I don't like this, it sounds like the whole thing was tidied up too quickly and neatly," he said. He leaned forward and gave her hand a pat. "Leave it with me. I'm going to do some more digging."
....*....
Footsteps at his cell door made Sebastian's head turn, a flicker of hope springing to life in his chest. Had she come back after all?
No, it wasn't her. The man who stood at his bars was tall, stern, dressed smartly and staring at Sebastian curiously. With a flick of his wand, the door slid free and he entered the cell.
Sebastian swallowed, shield firmly in place. He had never seen this man before and he was not a prison ward. He looked up at this stranger from his perch on the filthy bed.
"Well, Mr Sallow, you are a lucky man indeed," he said. "On your feet, son. You've got a trial to attend."
Sebastian's limbs jerked in shock. It was the only evidence he had heard the words spoken. His face remained blank. He stared at this stranger, finally convinced he had gone off the edge into craziness.
"I'm Jenkins. I'm head of the Auror department in London, and MC's boss," Jenkins said. "I reckon you might recognise her name."
Sebastian's chest began to rise and fall with quickened breaths. What was happening?
Jenkins leant forward to help Sebastian up. Sebastian immediately flinched, pressing up against the wall behind him. Jenkins held up both hands. "Alright, son, easy, it's alright," he said, calmly. "I'm not going to hurt you. But, I do need to shackle your wrists. I will escort you to the Ministry for the trial."
Sebastian blinked up at him. He licked his lips. "What trial?"
Jenkins gave him a wink. "We're going to get you out of here, son," he murmured, quietly. "Come on, up you get. There is a very anxious young lady waiting for you back in London."
....*....
Sweat beaded on Sebastian's brow as he stood inside a tight black cage in the centre of the court room. The benches arranged in a circular shape around him were filled with the robed officials of the Wizengamot. Their faces were a blur, a mass of colour that burned his eyes. Such noise and confusion were strange and he felt his shirt sticking to his back. He was hot, uncomfortable, overwhelmed. Unaccustomed to all these sensory stimulants.
The Minister banged the gavel on his desk and called order. Sebastian kept his gaze on the one person in the room he knew. MC looked beautiful, but pale, her face strained. There were purple shadows of exhaustion under her eyes. She looked unwell, her lips curving into a tremulous smile as she met his gaze. She nodded, trying to offer reassurance. Sebastian couldn't force his mouth to move to return that smile. He was still trying to process what today was throwing at him.
When it was time for MC to stand and give her statement, Sebastian felt his shield begin to tremble as she retold the events that had led to his imprisonment. Hearing her defend his actions made his eyes burn. Words like 'self defence' and 'neglected minor' being spoken around the room made a stray tear escape and track down his cheek.
When the time came for the court to vote, he watched as arms were raised in his favour. Disbelief shook him to the core.
When the Minister slammed his gavel down and declared that he was free to go, Sebastian felt his legs go weak. No more cell, no more darkness. How was this happening?
....*....
The sun was beginning to set as they left the Ministry. She had taken a very stunned Sebastian to her apartment to bathe and let him change. He hadn't spoken, and she didn't push him. She was here for him when he was ready and told him so.
He sat on the chair near her window, hair still damp from the bath and curling up around his face. He was looking out at the world, his eyes drinking in the life and bustle of London. MC couldn't help but stare at him, here, in her space.
She made him some dinner, and he ate a little of it, still not speaking any more than a polite, muttered thank you. She made light chatter for him to listen to, making sure he was comfortable. She could feel his eyes on her as she moved around the room, and tried to hide the way her hands were trembling. Having him here, safe, and in such close proximity was doing things to her heart.
At bedtime, she said he was welcome to sleep in the bed, but he shook his head. As she lay under the blankets, she peeked over at him in the chair, wide awake, still looking out her window.
"You won't disappear while I'm asleep, will you?" She asked.
"Where would I go?" His words were sad, lost.
"You're always welcome here. With me."
He swallowed and bowed his head. "You've done so much..." He put his hands over his face, a deep shuddering breath leaving him. "I'm out of that place. I'm..I'm really free."
MC slid quickly from the bed, padding softly across the room in her nightgown to kneel at his feet. "Yes, you're free," she said. "And I would do it all over again if I had to, Sebastian."
He removed his hands from his face and turned to her. "I owe you my life."
She gave him a little smirk. "Maybe I like having friends in my debt."
His gaze travelled over her face. "Friends?"
"If that's what you would like," she whispered. "I just want you to be able to find some happiness, Sebastian. You deserve it."
He didn't look convinced. But, he lifted a hand, his fingers hesitant as he reached out towards her. MC remained absolutely still as he brushed one finger tip across her forehead, sweeping her hair back a little. Goosebumps spread over her skin at the feather light touch.
He withdrew his hand and she couldn't help but feel disappointed. But, she had to be patient. She had to give him time.
For the next three days they found a little routine, simple, easy. Shared meals, quite time by her fire reading, she made small talk but let him set the pace. He wasn't ready to go out into the world yet and she wasn't going to force him.
"When do you return to work?" He asked her on the third evening.
"Jenkins told me to take as long as I need," she said. "He understands."
"You don't need to put your life on hold for me, MC," he said.
She stared at him. He was standing by the fire, watching the flames flicker and dance, a glass of whiskey in his hand. Swallowing down her nerves, she moved towards him. Tentatively, she slid her fingers into the hand that hung at his side. He looked down as she wrapped her fingers around his.
"My life isn't on hold, Seb," she said. "This is my life, and I want you in it. I always have."
"Because you love me," he said.
Her eyes lifted to meet his. His gaze was softer, the hardness was slowly fading from his face. The trauma was still there, but something was easing it. There was warmth in his eyes now as he looked at her.
She managed a shy smile. "Well, I broke the rules to come visit you, almost died because I couldn't stop thinking of you, and somehow, I managed to convince the Ministry to let you out. So, yes, I love you, Sebastian. I love you a whole lot."
He thought a moment. "You know, I remember the first time I ever really looked at you. There was this moment, when our eyes met, it was strange. I had this really odd feeling that you were going to have some kind of impact on me, I didn't know what at the time, but I guess it was this. You were going to save me, in more ways than one, and I'm not entirely sure I deserve it. But, I will take it all the same."
MC stared at him. It was the longest speech he had given since she had stumbled upon him in the prison that night. She squeezed his hand a little tighter. "Well, I think you deserve it."
His eyes shone with unshed tears. He placed his glass of whiskey on the mantelpiece and turned to fully face her.
Slowly, gently, he brushed his finger tips across her cheek, sliding his fingers into her unbound hair. His thumb caressed her cheek, savouring the feel of her skin. He bent to press his lips against hers in a feather light kiss before whispering against her mouth. "I love you."
She stared up into his eyes, their faces almost touching, the close proximity stealing her breath. "Don't sleep in the chair tonight," she whispered. "Come into the bed. With me."
His thumb brushed her lower lip. "I'm not sure if I will be able to," he rasped. "Having you so close like that...the temptation..."
She stepped backwards, pulling him with her by the hand, a smile curving her mouth. He let her tug him along, across the room towards her bed.
"MC..." There was a dark edge to his voice.
She held tight to his hand, refusing to let him go as she climbed up to kneel on the bed. She drew him close, her hand smoothing up his chest to his collar. "Kiss me," she ordered, softly.
His eyes burned into hers. She moved to pop the first button free on his shirt. She saw his throat work as he swallowed, a dark burn growing in his eyes. She felt the answering call of her own body. She wanted him, desperately.
His kiss was soft, a searching taste of her lips. She returned his kisses, her hands continuing to open his shirt. As she slid her palms over his bare chest, she parted her lips, welcoming him deeper. The soft swirl of his tongue against hers drew a low moan from her throat.
Slowly, almost reverently, he began to remove her clothes, his eyes drinking in every inch of skin as he exposed it. He trailed his fingers with devastating softness over her collar bone and down to caress her breasts. She arched into the touch, craving it, sighing with pleasure as he pressed his lips to her throat.
Laying with him brought a new sense of intimacy, their skin available to each other for soft touches and hot kisses. Sebastian trailed his hands over her scars, his mouth pressing soothing kisses against the old hurts. The feel of his body pressed against hers felt like the most natural thing in the world, she clung to him, desperate to wrap her warmth around him. A fierce need to protect him made her hands greedy, palms smoothing over his flesh, learning every hardness, every sensitive softness.
When he finally entered her, joining their bodies completely, she pulled his face down to hers, pressing kisses to him. Whispering her love to him through her moans of pleasure.
His intensity grew, his face tight with his need as he began to move faster. His fingers clutched at her, grip tight and hungry. His hips thrust harder, groans spilling from his parted mouth as she gripped his hips, tilting her pelvis to get just the right angle of friction. The sounds of their pleasure filled her room, the bed beneath them protesting under the urgency of their desire.
The sight of him so lost in her made the tightening coil of her pleasure snap, and she clenched around him, bearing down against his thrusts as she climaxed, his name ripped from her throat in a desperate cry.
He joined her, snapping his hips, before burying himself deep, his cock throbbing with violent release. He fell over her, breathing hard, a sheen of sweat glistening on his pale skin. She held him, her fingers sliding lovingly through the tumble of brown locks on his head. She never wanted to let him go.
....*....
Over the next few weeks, Sebastian learned how to live again, and MC was his reason for all of it. The days became easier as his confidence grew, and the nights were spent lost in the heat of her embrace. He worshipped her, savouring the feel of her kiss, losing himself in the haze of desire that consumed him as he took her for his own.
Eventually he began to brave the outside world, one of the first stops being a trip to Ollivanders for a new wand. The bustle of the city was overwhelming at first, but soon he found himself linking up with old habits. The feel of a wand in his hand a huge step into finding himself.
One afternoon, MC held him close, tight, and Apparated them into the Forbidden Forest. Sebastian took a moment to savour the sights and sounds of the trees, the scent of Highland air, filling his lungs with it.
She led him to a clearing and took up a duelling stance. He lifted an eyebrow at her. "Oh, and what's this?"
She grinned, her face alight with excitement, her beauty hitting him full force. He always had got a kick out of watching her duel, the very stance she was in tickling the deepest pits of his lust.
"I thought we could have a little bit of fun," she said. She flicked her wand teasingly. "Come on, let's see if you've still got it."
The old, familiar buzz of a challenge rushed through him, and he slipped his wand out, adjusting it in his grip as he began to circle her. At the first cast she was keeping him on his toes. It had been a long time, his muscles were stiff and out of practise, and he was soon putting up a sweat as he defended against her. And she wasn't going easy on him either.
It felt good. He felt alive. As she hit him with Levioso, and then used Accio to tug him closer towards her, he began to laugh. The joy of the moment bubbled up and out of him, the sound of his laughter spreading out around the clearing. She grabbed at him, pulling him down until he was on the ground, her arms snaking about his waist. She smiled up at him, her face flushed and happy.
He felt a warm glow, a surge of delight at doing something he loved, of being with someone he loved.
"Marry me," he said. The words bursting from his mouth.
She looked surprised, her eyes widening, and then she was squeezing him tightly, her face buried against his chest as she burst into tears. "A thousand times, yes!" She cried.
He lifted her off her feet, swinging her around before crushing a fierce kiss to her lips.
That tiny part of himself that he had hidden so carefully was now filling him completely, his heart full with her, with the freedom of the air around him. Now, it was the shadows that he squeezed into the corner, for they would always be a part of him. Without those shadows, he wouldn't have this light. Without the darkness, he never would have found her again. And he knew, without a doubt, that there was no living without her.
He had been given a second chance and he didn't want to waste it. He would spend the rest of his life proving to her that he was worth the risk, that he was worthy of the love that she had shown him.
MC was his light in the darkness.
Thank you so much for reading! 💜
#hogwarts legacy fanfic#sebastian sallow#mc x sebastian sallow#sebastian sallow fanfiction#blueraineshadows#sebastian sallow smut
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Mer!Rodimus x Reader
In light of Mermay and a recent ask I wrote a little something with Rodimus meeting the reader, I hope you enjoy!
If you like my writing style, you can always commission me, and please reblog to help spread my work! Thank you!
The last thought you'd had before the wave had smashed your boat was whether or not drowning would be painful, but a chunk of debris cracking into your head had plunged your mind into darkness before you could find out. You'd have expected to wake up dead, or rather not at all, but when consciousness did finally return you found yourself feeling less than grateful for the good fortune.
Crashing waves and the song of seabirds would have made for a gentle awakening on any other occasion, but they were hard to appreciate when your body ached from head to toe, the agonizing epicenter throbbing in your ribs as you tried to take your first waking breath. Tasting a nauseating abundance of seawater, you gagged and coughed despite the pain, opening your eyes only to snap them shut against what felt like blinding light.
Tenderly cradling your ribs, which were definitely bruised and probably cracked, if not broken, you curled up on what you realized was stone before a cold, salty spray on your face compelled you to slowly open your eyes once more. Though the light didn't help your aching head, you powered through it and adjusted to the brightness, finding yourself in the mouth of a cave and facing a brilliant pink and orange sunrise over the sea. The storm was gone, much like your boat, and for the life of you, you couldn't figure out how you weren't at the bottom of the ocean.
Your answer came when you turned your head to find a massive red being curled about you on the rocks.
"Hey, you're alive!" he said delightfully, startling you so badly your broken body managed half a jump before the pain once more rooted you to the spot. As you hissed and cradled your aching side, there came a flurry of apologies, and while you couldn't have run even if you'd wanted they still sounded sincere enough to quell the immediate urge to flee. "Sorry! Scrap, sorry! I should have figured that would scare you!"
Painfully catching your breath, you raised your heavy head for your first clear look at the massive being, able to discern what exactly he was now that the two of you were facing each other. A metallic carapace combined with a long, powerful tail made his identity clear even to your lagging brain. You met his bright blue optics as you croaked out the only words you could think of. "You're a merformer..."
To your continued surprise, the mech actually huffed in offense at your words, tapping his tailfin against the rock as he rested his helm in the palm of his servo. The sarcasm in his voice made you feel more than a touch of guilt. "I prefer Rodimus."
"Rodimus. I'm Y/N." you replied automatically, your manners taking over and almost compelling a "nice to meet you" past your lips before the absurdity of the situation stopped you. Everything was still so hard to make sense of you could have sworn your tired eyes saw him brighten once he learned your name. Lying back on your side, you winced at a fresh bout of pain from your head, hissing and gingerly feeling out the bruises and tiny cuts criss crossing your skin. Though you had vague memories of your boat and a storm, it was far too blurry to make sense of, and certainly didn't explain why you were here in a cave with a merformer and not at the bottom of the ocean. You remembered enough of the pounding rain and raging waves to know you shouldn't be alive, and so you turned to Rodimus in hope of answers. "What happened? I was on my boat, and I couldn't get it back to shore. I remember an... explosion?"
"Big wave, but basically the same effect." he explained, stretching out his long tail and resting on his belly in a much more casual posture. The words reminded you of the final rush of water that had slammed into your body, and the abrupt blackness that had overtaken you immediately afterwards. Your eyes went wide as you finally put it all together. After the wave had smashed your boat and you'd been tossed about with the debris, Rodimus must have saved you from the raging sea, bringing you to this cave so that you could rest and recover. The pride in his expression made it clear he was quite pleased with the accomplishment. "I figured that little thing wouldn't be up for the challenge."
"You saved me." you said weakly, trying to process how near you'd been to dying. It had been close enough that you'd more or less accepted it, believing there was nothing that could have saved you as your ship was battered by the sudden and inescapable storm... Yet here you were, injured but alive, all thanks to this mech. With the less than ideal treatment merformers got from humans, you were especially grateful for his selfless act, and allowed the emotions to read openly on your face as you looked back up to him. "Thank you. Really. I thought I was going to die out there-"
An attempt to crawl his way to take his hand sent a fresh spasm of pain through your body, cutting you off with a sharp hiss as you reflexively curled in on yourself. Rodimus pushed himself forward on his tail the second you expressed distress, his own expression gaining a dash of panic and his hands hovering helplessly over you before he spoke up quickly.
"You might still die here, I don't really know how to patch humans up, sorry." he apologized as you looked back up to him. Perhaps you'd just suffered a concussion and it was taking hold, but in the soft pink light Rodimus was undeniably handsome, his bright colors framing the pleasant angles of his face in a way you couldn't deny was appealing. It didn't hurt that his concern was fully appreciated, especially with the amount of pain making you quite certain you were indeed in need of medical attention. Looking beyond the cave, he went quiet for a moment, optics distant in deep thought before he made up his mind on something and let out a small sigh. His heavier tone implied whatever he'd decided on to be quite important. "There's a beach nearby that's usually full of people, I can take you there if you promise to be cool."
"Be cool?" you repeated in confusion.
"Don't scream for them to shoot me." he replied simply, pushing off the ground to maneuver right over you and out the cave's entrance. Dropping himself down the short distance to the ocean below, he splashed into the waves before bringing his upper half right back up, resting his arms against the mouth of the cave to speak at eye level. The new angle made the conversation feel far more equal, and you found yourself briefly lost in the brilliant blue depths of his optics before he spoke again. "I'll drop you off on an old boat dock, and you can handle the rest from there, yeah?"
Though it took you a moment to process, your nod of agreement seemed to make him happy, and you found yourself smiling in return despite your current condition.
"You look pretty light. I'll carry you there if you don't mind getting wet again." he offered, balancing on his tail so he could offer his arms. The gesture surprised you considerably, the whole situation moving so fast you'd have struggled to keep up even without a head injury. Not only were you not dead, but you owed your life to a merformer, a species your own had been on tense terms with at best for much longer than you'd been alive. You'd never even met one before Rodimus, yet here he was offering to literally carry you to safety after saving your life... Even if you'd never believed the rumors about all members of his species despising humans, his actions still surprised you. Admittedly though, having no other options did make the decision to trust him even easier.
It took some work to get you in his arms, but Rodimus was as careful as he was patient, fully supporting your weight as he allowed you to lay across his arms as slowly as you needed not to jostle your injuries. The mild pain was well worth getting even closer, your tired body finding a small measure of comfort from being held against his chassis thanks to a mysterious hum from within that soothed your aches and compelled you to relax. When you were secured bridal style in his grasp, Rodimus pushed away from the cave and into more open waters, dipping just low enough for your soiled clothes to once again turn soaked. You hardly minded for a multitude of reasons.
"Why are you still helping me?" you asked suddenly, looking up at him and squinting against the bright light reflecting off the waves. It seemed like he'd just been passing by when your boat had been smashed, and you could believe he'd simply jumped in to save you on a whim, it didn't make much sense for him to risk all this now that he could swim off and leave you to figure things out. Most humans probably wouldn't have helped him in an emergency, and even now he was risking the reactive bigotry of your species just to get you help more expediently.
"I'm pretty invested at this point. I don't want all my hard work to go to waste." he replied in a mostly playful tone after a second of silence. The logic was somewhat sound, and as the waves lapped at your body you almost felt like you understood before he threw a fresh bit of confusion your way with a wink. "Plus, once you don't look like something the sea spat up, you might actually be kinda cute."
The answer briefly stunned you into silence, but as he quickly rounded the shore and you started to spot signs of human habitation, you found yourself panicking at the idea you might soon be saying goodbye. Rodimus had saved your life, and all of your confusing feelings aside, you felt that deserved a proper thanks you couldn't currently give. Desperation to have that chance leaked into your words as they tumbled out. "Can I see you again?"
Rodimus went wide-opticed, his frame wobbling in the water as one would if they'd just stumbled over their own feet on land. "Well, I don't normally hang around in one place for long, but..." he faded out as he briefly tread water, tail undulating to keep him and you upright. Something passed between the two of you as he met your gaze again, and you almost found yourself grateful for the boat crash as you looked into the depths of his optics and got him to smile, his arms holding you a tad bit more closely as he answered. "If you can make it back to this cave in the next few weeks, we'll see what happens."
"I'll make it happen." you promised, determined to find him the second you were well enough to do so. It didn't matter if you had to rent a rowboat and paddle your way there, you were going to see him again. Judging by how he perked up at your vow and the obvious protective nature of his grip, you were certain he was willing to do just as much, if not more, to ensure the two of you got the chance to meet again.
#transformers#maccadam#idw#mtmte#lost light#tf#human reader#rodimus x reader#rodimus prime#merformers#merformers x reader#transformers x reader#x reader#mermay#self insert
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Hiii can I request a Nassian daughter x reader where they've been dating for a while and she invites reader to the family dinner and she just gets bombarded with questions by the bat boys and gets approved in the end.
passing the test
Nessian’s daughter x Reader
Summary: you meet your girlfriends family
Warnings: none
A/N: thank you for the request!
To say you were nervous would be a vast understatement. You’d been dating your current girlfriend for seven months, not very long considering you were immortal, and you’d finally given in to her requests to meet her family. Honestly, you were honored she wanted you to meet them, but it was the identity of them that kept you reluctant. Her mother led the Valkyries, her father the Night Court’s armies, her aunt and uncle the High Lady and Lord, and so on.
“They’re going to hate me,” you groaned, readjusting your dress in the mirror for the tenth time in five minutes.
“They’ll love you,” she pressed a kiss to your cheek, “just as I do.” Warmth spread through your cheeks, down your neck, as she wrapped her arms around your waist, meeting your eyes in the mirror. “And no more stalling.”
You huffed, rolling your eyes, but turned around in her arms. “And if they do hate me?”
“They won’t,” she said with a confidence you wished you could replicate. “Come on.”
You didn’t drag your feet, per say, as you walked arm in arm through the streets of Velaris, but you didn’t rush either.
Less than an hour later, you sat at a large but cozy dinner table - not with her entire family, just the High Lord, her Father, and the Spymaster. The others had been called away on unavoidable business, and had sent their regrets at missing your visit.
Her left hand splayed on your thigh under the table, a warm comfort against the chill set into your body, a permanent state of nerves, your mentals walls firmly built around you - not to hide secrets, but to keep you from turning into more of a mess.
“So, y/n,” The High Lord, who insisted you call him Rhys, exaggerated your name - causing your shoulders to roll back, lifting hairs on the back of your neck, “what do you do for work?”
“I’m an apprentice herbalist, at Ziva’s apothecary.”
“Why not a healer?” He had a genuine curiosity in his tone, and it didn’t feel like an insult.
“My magic didn’t lean that way,” and you would probably have terrible bedside manner, but he didn’t need to know that.
His mouth curved up at the corners, “so you’re familiar with poisons?”
All of the blood drained from your face, and your jaw dropped. Her father’s mouth tightened to hide a laugh, the spymaster’s face a wall of unbreakable stone and restraint.
“Uncle,” she snarled next to you.
“I’ve helped provide herbs to counter them on occasion,” you managed to croak - somehow feeling the need to spill details, “some children will eat just about anything.”
He gave a short nod, “what do your parents do?”
“They run a bakery,” you swallowed, rubbing your sweaty palm on your thigh.
-
She was still inside with her family as Nyx led you out to the garden. He’s the reason you met her, after all, and he’d arrived halfway through dinner, putting an end to the extensive interrogation you’d gone through. Almost like they were planning it, they’d shot rapid fire questions at you, alternating with each other and barely giving you a chance to breathe between questions - and certainly not giving your girlfriend a chance to interfere. Only when Nyx arrived were you actually able to eat the food on the table, the conversation switching to topics not surrounding you.
“They can be intense,” he apologized. You gave him a weak smile.
“I learned.”
“I approve,” you heard the High Lord’s voice, loud enough you knew he intended for him to hear as well.
“So do I,” the spymaster's cool voice added.
“She didn’t need your approval,” your girlfriend snarled, and the door flung open.
“We’re leaving,” she announced, grabbing your arm and narrowing her eyes at Nyx - as if this was his fault. He held up his hands in a placating gesture.
“I had nothing to do with it.”
She huffed, but led you out of the River Palace.
#nessian daughter x reader#acotar next gen#next gen acotar#nessian's daughter x reader#nessian daughter#nessian's daughter x y/n#nessian daughter x y/n
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