#he's been gone over 3 years but it still feels so fresh | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

onlyswan · 1 year

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summary: in which jungkook is giving up on you but you have so much love left to give.

> idol!jungkook x f!reader / angst, fluff, suggestive / wc: 8.3k

> warnings: mention of infidelity (no one did u can breathe ily), mention of a classmate slipping their number in oc’s pocket and oc feeling unsafe, mention of puking, mentions & allusion to s/x, alcohol consumption, making out, boob!e fondle, gr*nding kinda? jungkook is hard™️ they’re so in love it’s sickening

> in which masterlist!

playlist! and if/or when - ruel / hate everything - jungkook cover (gsoul) / hits different - taylor swift / statue - lil’ eddie / i wouldn’t ask you - clairo (i had to get in the zone & this is so oc-coded i need u to listen i’m so srs)

next: in which you don’t want to give up jungkook (even when he gave you reasons to, even if they give you reasons to).

note: this was a journey. happened back in june 2019.!! i’m ripping off the bandaid <3 deep sigh writing this made me realize how my babies have come so far. hopefully will follow up with a fluffy fluff lowkey inspired by the underwear live soonest lols i’m excited for it 2 stay tuned 🫂 reblogs & feedback are much appreciated <3

—

you forgot the walls of the apartment building you’re living in are thin. a small portion of the white paint has been chipped off, it looks like a birth mark, you note — except it’s not, and you’re the one who caused the irregularity.

your favorite glass is scattered across the kitchen floor, reduced to shards and to sparkling pieces almost as miniscule as dust. you don’t know what came over you. you don’t know why you threw it at the wall instead of filling it with cold water to only drink three sips like you usually do.

just when you thought you’ve been faring well in holding yourself together today, a fresh wave of sorrow overwhelms you. your knees buckle as you begin weeping, the loudest you’ve been since this nightmare has started. it swallows the knocking sounds at your door, but it’s still not loud enough to quell jungkook’s quivering voice playing like a broken record on loop inside your head.

“we should end this… i think it’s for the best, before we get drained.”

the rain is coming down fiercely and you’re freezing inside his car, parked outside your apartment. after all, his balenciaga windbreaker can only do so much against the blasted airconditioner. your throat is painfully dry, and your hands and face are numb from the piercing cold. but those are the least of your concerns because you feel like your head had just been dunked in ice water. the sting in your eyes are burning warmer as the seconds fly by and the muffled sounds of the torrential raindrops drum frantically in your ears. they’re clouding the car windows, mirroring jungkook’s tear-stained cheeks.

“i’m leaving again in three weeks. and i’m leaving again next year… and i’ll be gone again soon after that for a long time. i-i don’t know when i’m coming home, ___.” he pauses. the heel of palms press against his eyes, as if that could possibly barricade the saltwater leaking from them. “i never know where my life is taking me and you have your own… there’s too much-too much going on. i think that i’m just wasting your time, that this isn’t- it’s not going anywhere.”

“open the door! hello?! ___!”

“what do you want?!” you seeth in annoyance, swinging the door open to reveal your pesky neighbor.

he scratches the top of his head awkwardly at the sight of the mess that you greeted him with, having not bothered to pretend that you weren’t wailing your heart out.

”hey, i know you’re going through something…” his lips remain parted as he struggles to find the correct word, his right eye twitching voluntarily. “soul-crushing? right now. but i heard glass breaking and i was concerned that you, uhm, might’ve hurt yourself.”

the apparent nervousness and sincerity in his actions pull you out from the isolating disassociation you’ve imprisoned yourself in. you feel humiliated, presenting yourself in your most pitiful form infront of a kid two years younger than you. you envy him for having it together after storming out of his parents’ house while you-

“i’m not hurt. it was just an accident.”

you’re shamelessly lying infront of his face because the truth makes you feel too ashamed of yourself.

he only nods, smiling in relief. “i don’t know how to help make you feel better, so i just brought honey like i used to do before.”

you sigh, the familiar jar of honey and its red checkered lid waving at you like an old friend. has it been a year?

“bro, i told you i can’t accept this anymore.”

“you and your boyfriend already broke up. what’s the big deal?”

you have never wanted to smack someone more, the genuine confusion painted on his face feels like an infuriatingly harsh slap to yours.

“he wasn’t threatened by your honey, you dipshit. we just found out my blood sugar was getting a bit high!”

“oh- i’m so-”

you angrily slam the door shut. the silence you’re left with is suffocating, and you find yourself breaking down again.

he jumps in surprise when you open the door again, yelling- “and we’re not broken up!” before ripping away the jar of honey from his sweaty palms. he’s left completely flabbergasted, an inexplicable heaviness weighing on his chest when he hears your sniffling from the other side of the hard-wood.

“does that mean i can deliver again next week? i have too much in my kitchen…”

he doesn’t receive a snarky answer, surprisingly, so he continues talking.

“and f-y-i, your left cheek is bleeding! you might want to check on that!”

—

“you didn’t even give me any signs…”

you inhale a deep, shaky breath in a fragile attempt of keeping your composure. you want to scream, rip apart this thick tension with your bare hands, and force him to admit that this is just some kind of sick joke. you finally see him in person after months and all he has for you is a gift bag filled to the brim with heartbreak. this is too casually cruel, not something you would’ve expected from your jungkook.

“do you really mean that? or is there something else you’re not saying…? look at me.” you plead, weakly tugging at the hem of his long-sleeved shirt. the horrors of long-distance relationship stories claw their way out of your skin, adding fuel to the fire of your deepest fear. “you didn’t cheat on me, right? that can’t be it. we- we always-”

after you ended your last relationship, you cried at the parking lot of your university and continued living your life the next morning as if nothing happened at all. you did it all for yourself, anyway. he was gradually tearing down your confidence and your dignity; and you didn’t want to become a person the future you would despise for not being wiser, stronger.

and here you are at present day: spending the cozy sunday night solving chemistry problems on your desk. you have a blue bandaid plastered on your face and a cheek full of fruit and honey. and you would say you’re fine, but jungkook wasn’t here to sweetly dote on you while treating your wound. he isn’t here to taste the honey from your lips with that coquettish smirk of his. he isn’t laying on your bed, fighting to stay awake because he wants to fall asleep with you as his pillow.

no matter how hard you try to shut out this thought, it keeps knocking on the door. he’s going to be doing these sweet nothings for a different person when he finally reaches a more stable place in his life. you want to kneel on the ground, beg the heavens to meddle with destiny and never let you hear about it.

because that means he will never set foot in your apartment again, and the personal belongings you left in his room will be thrown out to erase the traces you left behind.

so this is how it begins.

the ugliest parts of you are swimming to the surface, tying themselves around your ankles because jungkook took away the ground from beneath your feet after unearthing your soul and… nothing makes sense to you anymore. if you wake up every morning to tend to your garden, and you look outside the window to learn that the sun has stopped burning, what do you have left?

your lips inevitably curve into a frown, but you inhale a sharp breath, patting your eyes dry before they can smudge the black ink on your notepad. and then you dip a strawberry in honey for the third time.

—

“no, baby, no- that’s not it.”

the dread and insecurity weaved into the cracks of your voice fill him with nausea and panic. he captures your frigid hand with haste, firmly holding it to his pounding chest.

“i would never do that to you. just the thought alone fucking disgusts me… you’re the only one. you’ve ruined me for everybody else.”

“then why are you giving up on me? am i becoming a burden?”

jungkook feels painfully numb, mind floating as the buildings outside the window get left behind him as a mere, passing blur.

“yah, jungkook-ah. are you crying?”

a torturous moment of silence passes as he struggles to find his voice. his tongue is tied, and his lost eyes are betraying the nights he spent practicing how to explain himself to you. back then, the reasoning he curated made sense. but faced with the consequences of his actions, the love of his life’s brain running a thousand miles per hour, recording a tale of woe and heartache on his passenger seat — he has never felt this much loathing for himself and his weaknesses.

you release a shaky breath, patting his rosy cheeks dry with your sleeves. you smile at him kindly, and he watches you in sheer disbelief. he can’t fathom the perpetual luck he’s been blessed with that he met, who he believes to be, the purest soul to grace this corrupted world. they’re damp with your tears, so it’s practically useless, but the sweet gesture is a stray beam of sunlight in the midst of the dull gray clouds.

the comforting rubs on his shoulder extracts him from his torturous thoughts, and only then does he feel the wetness on his face.

“you’ve been holding it back for the past week. just cry it out.”

he nods wordlessly, hiding himself in the fleece blanket from his lap. yoongi can feel a lump forming in his throat as he witnesses his youngest brother breaking down, jungkook’s pain also being his pain. as a group who’s been living together for the past decade, no one will be able to empathize with them as well each other. especially during times like this.

“___ hasn’t called?”

jungkook shakes his head wistfully, wiping away the tears that slid down his nose. he is dying to send you a text message, worried sick, and still used to hearing about your day the same way he is used to sleeping on his stomach.

“hyung,” the sound of the word borders on a sob. “it’s over. this is killing me… it’s all my fault.”

“but isn’t that what you wanted?”

“exactly. so why am i crying?” his hands ball into closed fists. “i’m an asshole.”

“enough of that!” yoongi loudly whines out his scolding. ”we all know you had your reason.”

“but, hyung, i fucked up!” he tenses up, blurting out the acknowledgement that’s been haunting him day and night. “she told me the most romantic thing and i felt so… fuck, i’m so angry at myself. i ruined everything. and i’m scared that i’d end up making things worse if i try fixing it.”

“stop beating yourself up. we can’t solve things this way.” yoongi grabs a bottle of water from the cupholder between them, twisting the cap open before handing it to jungkook. “drink first.”

once he starts drinking, he realizes that his throat has been awfully dry and sore. it’s most probably best for him to rest his voice. he can already foresee the concert rehearsal being absolute hell tomorrow. if he can’t sing, he doesn’t know how else he’s supposed to keep himself sane.

“talk to me. what did she say?”

“you’re the first person i’ve fallen in love with, do you know that?”

and with that revelation, he loses the warmth of your touch, and he comes crashing down like a wingless aircraft.

“i also need time to think about it. that’s only fair, right? that i get to decide, too…?” you swallow thickly, lips parting as if the words are resisting to come out of your mouth.

he looks at you with an emotion you can’t name, a push and pull between longing and trepidation.

if this was a movie, he would brave the rain and somehow perfectly deliver a poetically romantic speech that would sway your heart. if this was a movie, you would take a warm bath together, make out in the bathtub, and make love on your bed. if this was a movie, the day would end with the two of you tangled up, peacefully asleep and rhythmic breathing in sync. but he knows you. apparently not as well as he thought, but to some extent, he knows you. if he pulls you closer in the heat of the moment, you would feel suffocated and defensive and you would push him away; and he would lose you for good. that much he knows. so he lets you leave and he stays in the car— heartbroken, crestfallen, and regretful, because he might’ve just recklessly thrown away the best gift the universe has ever given him.

“i was thinking about how she never would’ve made this much sacrifices and efforts for anyone else and i feel like… i- it’s all going to waste because our future is uncertain. i can’t be committed to her as much as she is committed to me. and, and i felt like the guilt was eating away at me, you know? i wasn’t thinking straight.” jungkook chews on his bottom lip, a last ditch effort to prevent himself from sobbing. “it just… consumed me? like i was drowning… and all i could smell and taste was the saltwater.”

“i see,” yoongi sighs, crossing his legs and intertwining his fingers infront of his stomach as he finds the right words to say. “that’s a normal response. our brain is a very complex friend… but you know, everything i’ve been through as myself and as a part of our team, hmmm, they taught me that there are times when a problem doesn’t necessarily need a solution per se. you just keep going until the fog clears up and then you move past it.”

fuck, jungkook needs a glass of whiskey. or two. or twelve. he listens intently despite seeming like he’s spacing out.

“this won’t last forever and time slips away from us without us even noticing. you should do what you want to do. if we’re going to deprive ourselves of good things, what will we have left after everything is over? money we can’t spend in one lifetime? there’s no happiness in that.”

yoongi frowns, wishing he could do more to alleviate the weight hanging on jungkook’s shoulders.

“you deserve love outside all the noise, too. focus on the present which you can still control and deal with the future when it arrives. if you do otherwise, you’ll just be tormenting yourself… and i know it’s easier said than done but! do you want to hear something i’ve had on my mind lately?”

with a flushed face and swollen eyes, he tilts his head to curiously spy on his hyung.

“what is it?”

“your motivation to work out after our shows is so you can stay awake and spend time with her. that’s why you fall asleep everywhere else. do you know how scary and endearing it is to watch that? is that what you call ‘not being committed enough’?”

yoongi fails to hide his gummy smile, body vibrating with silent laughter as pictures of jungkook falling asleep standing up flash before his eyes.

“seriously, you punk! you scare me! i just pass out and die straight after while you- really, you’re really unbelievable. i envy you. for being able to love with everything you have until they break your heart. i mean it!”

“but i’m the one who broke their heart this time.” jungkook somberly utters in defeat, bottom lip jutting out and chin quivering.

yoongi encouragingly pats his shoulder, shaking his body lightly. ”you can make it up to her. she’ll reach out before we leave. have some more patience.”

jungkook’s eyes turn into slits, suspiciously squinting at the man sitting beside him. “why do you sound so sure?”

“because she loves you. why else?”

—

you automatically pause from eating cup ramyeon when your phone lights up on top of the journals you’ve been reviewing for the past hour.

“ah, shit! shit!”

you abruptly cover your mouth with your hand, exhausted eyes watering because you accidentally bit your tongue after reading the name of the sender of your newest text notification. you take sips of cold water, peering at your phone as you do so. your hands itch to type out a response, but the screen dies and turns black, another of yoongi’s messages in the same pile of unanswered ones from your friends checking up on you tonight. you can’t talk to anyone right now; you need to get shit done.

after eating your dinner at the convenience store, you come home to a plastic of fried chicken hanging on the doorknob of your front door.

Eat lots and stay healthy! I’m feeding Jungkook well too. Don’t worry. — Yoongi

you peel off the blue handwritten note, sticking it on the cover of one of your books. you carefully carry the food using your free hand, and you can feel it radiating on your skin, the heat of a freshly-cooked meal. you were always worried of being a bother when you occasionally ask him how jungkook is doing on tour, but this made your heart significantly lighter. gaining a good friend after losing your lover, perhaps life can show a smidge of mercy when it wants to.

too bad you’ve always been one to be greedy.

—

“ah, seriously. why did you have to break up with ___?”

“we’ve been through this a million times!” jungkook exclaims in exasperation as he fiddles with the controller, bumping his knee with taehyung’s. “focus. you’re supposed to be helping me forget.”

“i don’t remember agreeing to that.” taehyung responds with a shrug, smirking when he picks up a booster and runs past his friend’s character. “you finally found someone who could put up with you and you let them go? i won’t let you forget.”

jungkook scoffs, eyes rolling upwards. “bro, i should be the least of your problems.”

“nuh-uh.” taehyung tuts with a grin, belly aching with laughter when jungkook’s car jumps over his to steal the lead. he didn’t even know that was possible. he plans on using the same trick against him later. “i’m making you my biggest problem so i don’t have to deal with mine.”

“they’re not married yet. you still have a chance, you know?”

“yah!” he gapes at jungkook in shock, entirely forgetting about the game. “take that back!”

“don’t act like you haven’t thought of it!”

“yeah, but i don’t say it out loud. it sounds too wrong! i still have my morals left!” he cries out, stomping his feet on the floor.

jungkook lightly punches his arm, eyebrows pinched in confusion. “i meant you have a chance if they break up. i have morals too! what do you think of me?!”

“oh…” taehyung blinks. “you know who else have probably thought of that too, though?”

“who?” jungkook boredly questions as he scrolls through the game collection, contemplating about which one to play next.

“all the other people waiting in line for ___.”

the realization renders him motionless, stirring up the possessiveness coursing through his veins. for the love of god, he doesn’t want to be petty but that struck a nerve. he wants to storm out of the house and look for you, beg on his knees for you to take him back.

“aish, hyung, you’re driving me crazy! why would you tell me that? are we torturing each other?!”

“are you crying? yah, jungkook-ah.” taehyung watches his hunched figure with a guilty wince, hesitant hands rubbing the expanse of his back. “i’m sorry- i’m sorry… do you want a hug?”

jungkook stays quiet, head hanging low to hide his face crumpling with anguish. the loose but affectionate hug that he gets pulled into prompts him to fall apart, catharsis blossoming in his ribcage and turning his bones into jelly.

he hears obnoxiously loud sniffles, and he abandons taehyung’s shoulder to look at his face. “are you crying, too?”

“stop ruining the moment.” taehyung groans, forcefully pushing down his head again.

namjoon comes out from his bedroom in search for another extension cord, still sipping on the half-empty iced americano he took from the fridge only ten minutes ago. the heartfelt scene on the couch causes him to halt on his tracks. how did they go from playing games to crying together? he silently observes the two members for a moment before deciding to approach them.

“what am i going to do with the two of you?” he grunts, ruffling his hair in frustration. “shall we go out for drinks to disinfect your wounded hearts?”

the mention of alcohol makes them perk up, jungkook’s tearful doe eyes sparkling at the prospect of temporarily erasing the pain that has uncontrollably spread throughout his system. he wants to drink until he forgets that he has hands, until he forgets what it feels like to touch you.

“thanks, monie-hyung. i’ll have my appetizer.”

and the iced americano gets snatched away from namjoon’s unsuspecting hand within the blink of an eye.

—

“this is not a barbecue restaurant.” you stare blankly at the orange neon lights spelling out the name of the night club your friends secretly conspired to bring you to.

“___, loosen up! the fastest way to move on is to find someone else. this is the best place for that.” aera turns around from the passenger seat of the taxi, her red lips painting a thrilled smile. “just forget about jungkook. we all knew this shit was going to happen. i’m surprised you even lasted that long!”

“i don’t know what you’re trying to imply but i don’t appreciate your tone.” you warn her with a sharp, threatening look. “and the ‘someone else’ that i found at a bar before turned out to be biggest fucking jerk i’ve ever met. i’m not doing this again.”

“things might be different this ti-” mi-ran aids in persuading you, but it only adds fuel to the fire.

“oh my god! fuck off!” you yell in irritation, aggressively getting off the car and slamming the door shut on their faces.

you never look back, ignoring the shouts of your name and half-assed apologies. you don’t have the slightest idea about where you’re going — your feet have a mind of their own and they chose to go the opposite way of home. this isn’t how you envisioned your night. you just wanted to listen to the sound of the meat grill and complain about life giving you a taste of true love just to cut your tongue with it until you bled. was that too much to ask?

you’re about ninety percent certain that you just lost two of whom you treated to be your closest friends. you think of ah-young, and you briefly consider crashing at your best friend’s band practice, but you’re too exhausted to travel to the other end of the city.

with eleven seconds left in the timer, you cross the street with swift and long strides alongside a crowd consisting mostly of employees wearing the same navy blue uniform. at last, you’re among the bright and lively restaurants, the inviting smell of good food making your stomach sting with hunger.

it’s only taehyung who recognizes you when you unknowingly pass by, almost choking on his glass of somaek, the combination of soju and beer. with his career on the line, he is confident that he can recognize that balenciaga windbreaker anywhere and anytime. meanwhile, instead of talking about you, the youngest is drunkenly reminiscing about the alleged ghost encounters he had in their old dorms. their leader is tragically left to tend to the grill alone. he deeply regrets not dragging any of the older members with them.

“everyone, i think i just saw __-”

a grimace of cluelessness is plastered on taehyung’s face when jungkook claps once, enthusiastically pointing at him as if he just announced something inspiring and life-changing.

“you’re right, you’re right! that’s it! what i’m kind of trying to say here is…” he pauses, facial muscles relaxing into a gloomy expression. he sniffles and rubs his nose, making it a brighter shade of red. “when we move houses again, i won’t have stories like these to bring with me. the new ghosts will be my memories with ___.”

none of the other two dares to speak after that, the oddly satisfying sound of meat being grilled and the chattering from other tables occupy the uneasy and heavy silence. instead, they begin filling their own shot glasses with pure soju. namjoon is the first one to spill it down his throat, slamming it on the table before dishing out his phone from his pocket. by this time, all of them are already drunk, double vision blurry and speech a little slurred. they gave up on counting the green bottles and cans of beer a long while ago.

“shit, that was a good metaphor. i need to write that down.”

“namjoon-hyung, he’s crying again!”

jungkook’s head slumps on the table with a thud, hot tears escaping down to his temple as he laments. “i miss her so much. why did i have to break up with her the second we got home? why…? am i so impulsive? what do i do if… if she agrees that we- h-how am i supposed to live with myself after that…? i’m never going to love again.”

they shuffle apprehensively on their seats, but still, they tell jungkook what he needs to hear since he won’t remember tonight’s events, anyway.

that’s not going happen. she just needs some more time. i’m sure she’s missing you too. everything will be okay.

but it’s been almost two weeks of radio silence. their flight is in nine days, drawing nearer and nearer as if it’s purposely taunting jungkook. everyone is thinking the same thing, and everyone is afraid to say it out loud.

—

it’s 7am when his work alarm goes off. with a disgruntled noise, a hungover jungkook drowsily drags himself out of bed, eyes still closed as he swings the bedroom door open.

“oing?” he creates a noise of confusion when his arm bumps against an object. he blinks at the brown paper bag hanging on his doorknob, removing one of the handles to peek at its contents.

he buffers for a moment, staring blankly at his belongings safely tucked inside. there’s his black mini bluetooth speaker, tinted lipbalm, wired earphones, bucket hat, facial cleanser, moisturizer, and shampoo. these are everything he left on top of your study desk and in your bathroom. neatly folded on the side is his windbreaker, which he recalls as clear as daylight, how you reveled in its comfort the last time that you were together. the fabric softener you use has replaced his perfume, the cherry scent forming a rain cloud of nostalgia and longing above his head.

if this is a nightmare, he is begging for somebody, anybody, to break into the room and to bring him someplace where hope is not desolate.

his wounded heart, as his namjoon-hyung described, is experiencing an excruciating pain he never even imagined was possible. he now understands, why the broken heart syndrome is a real thing.

he can’t read you. is this your way of ‘reaching out’? have you kicked him out of your house, out of your life? for good?

the dread of losing you forever is gnawing at his insides. nausea almost succeeds in knocking him off his feet. his brain hisses with static. he panics at the disgustingly familiar sensation brewing in his digestive system, sprinting to the bathroom to spill out his guts.

they say that you don’t realize what you have until you lose it. that early morning, jungkook realizes that he’s only a human being after all.

—

“when did i put that there?”

you’re sorting out your dirty laundry after showering when you notice a tissue paper tucked in the front pocket of your denim jeans. you huff out a sigh, ripping it apart into tiny pieces over the trash bin with raging vexation. you will never understand how men thinks that these kind of stupid tricks are supposed to compel you into seeing them anywhere near attractive and desirable in your eyes. if anything, they make you feel unsafe and if your paths cross again, you will run the other way. great. another person in the lecture room to avoid. just fucking great.

at this point, you want to mockingly laugh at your own misery. just when you thought your day couldn’t possibly get worse, it fucking does.

you tuck yourself in bed by midnight, texting a friend about your joint presentation next week, and then rereading your conversation with namjoon from this morning for the nth time. you’ve been hoping it will shine light on the right path to take, because you’re still lost and hurt.

Namjoon:

he’s been devastated since

can’t this be sorted out?

stuff’s just been overwhelming and honestly i’m as anxious as him

i'm not trying to force you into getting back together with him ofc but please talk for closure atleast..

you’re also my friend. i think you need it too..

you scroll a bit further down afterwards, and your heart drops to your stomach when you see the three dots under the contact name ‘my jungkook’. you click on it as it beckons you to, only to allow time to flow like a river with no sea to kiss, idly watching the bubble appear and disappear, appear and disappear. almost everyday, you catch a glimpse of him at the very least, typing a message and never sending it.

the same goes for tonight, it seems.

his silence is torturing you. in the car, in your inbox, in your call history. a person knocks on the door and a part of you foolishly predicts that it’s jungkook not using his copy of the key out of respect.

you succumb to the yearning, heading to your shared media and files that you’ve been actively resisting for the past three weeks… for this exact reason.

you randomly click a video sent by jungkook three months ago.

“i know you’re in class but i’m too excited to show what i got you today!” he beams at the front camera, bunny teeth cutely showing. he picks up the first item from the hotel bed with his free hand. “you already own this book but this one got a different cover, see? it’s hardback? they say it’s a limited edition.”

he eyes it fleetingly, obvious that there is something else he is dying to mention.

“i won’t show it too close. you can look at it when i go home. there’s a little surprise inside.”

he scrunches his nose before teasingly sticking his tongue out.

“and then here we haaave-”

following that, he shows you an adorable fluffy white bunny with red eyes. it occupies more than half the screen, and without a doubt, it is soft and huggable.

“cooky’s new sibling! we found it at a gift shop and hobi-hyung said it looks like me.”

he presses his cheek to the bunny’s. “i accept. we do look alike, but my eyes are so much bigger.”

in the upcoming seconds, the video is muted except for his breathing. he plops down on the bed while ruffling his dark hair, staring at the camera wordlessly, evocative of when you catch him dreamily watching you study while you’re on a videocall.

“i miss you.” he smiles sadly, deep dimples appearing on his cheeks. “don’t forget to text me when you’re on your way home.”

he drops on his back, the firm mattress breaking his fall.

“mmmwah!“ he kisses the camera, and your screen freezes on the final frame.

the silence in the aftermath is defeaning. you tear your glasses off your face, burying your face in the pillows. you arrive at your final decision then and there. you don’t care. you don’t care. you don’t care anymore. you cannot bear to spend more of your days like this. his things that used to live here might be gone, but you look for him everywhere. you look for his car in the parking lot. you look for his hair when you see flowers. you wait for his name to be called in the coffee shop. on your way home, you linger at the playground where you used to usually meet.

because if your relationship with jungkook is truly doomed to fail, you want to watch its foundation collapse on the ground, burnt down to gray and black ashes that disintegrate when you try to grasp them in your hands… with good grace, it’s the only way for you to believe that there’s no more home to come home to.

with a trembling hand, you press the call button and for the very first time, you beg someone to stay.

—

jungkook’s breathing ceases, heartbeat violently racing in his chest. the ‘chimes’ ringtone tickle his ears, his phone vibrating incessantly in his hands. the two features he specifically customized in your contact settings so he will immediately recognize that it’s you who’s calling.

it’s been four days since you dropped off his things. and here he was, laying on his bed and struggling to find the right words to say because he refuses to believe that this is how it ends. the paper bag is still hanging on the doorknob. he hasn’t touched it since the first time. he doesn’t have the courage to do so.

fuck giving you space. he wants drown himself in you and never come up for air. he’s more than willing to suffer your anger or your coldness. he’s prepared to prove himself worthy of a second chance every second of every day. he wants to occupy half of your desk and half of your closet again. he selfishly wishes to be the first and the last person you fall in love with.

but until the very end, you’re the braver one.

“love?” your voice is quiet, barely audible, but it’s there, and he hears the affectionate term of endearment distinctly. “i’m sorry. i tried, i really did, but i couldn’t do it…”

“baby,” he falters breathlessly, half of him in disbelief, convinced that he has officially lost his goddamn mind and delusion is bleeding into reality.

“i tried living without you like you wanted- but i can’t-” you hiccup in between small sobs on the other line. “i love you, jungkook. i can’t live carrying around all this love with me. it’s too heavy…”

exploding and breaking apart, jungkook’s heart is a meteor that has entered the planet’s atmosphere, and he doesn’t know where to begin digging for the fragments so he can piece himself together again.

“we are too young and we don’t know what the fuck we’re doing and i love you too much. you don’t have to protect me… i’ll take my fair share of the responsibility, so just-” he hangs on your every word, and then you pause, your following words eliciting a powerful punch to his gut. “just let me love you and let me learn my lesson the hard way… let’s do that, okay?”

the walls of him room ebbs and flows in like the sea. he rests his forearm over his eyes, his skin gradually dampening with tears. he once promised himself that he would never put you in this position. he should be the one begging for forgiveness, repenting and crawling on his knees. but rather than wasting his time with surfing through another tsunami of self-blame, he reminds himself: i want to be a better man.

“okay, baby. let’s do that, hmm? let’s do that. it’s what i want too.” he coos softly with a hoarse voice. “are you at your apartment?”

you hum in confirmation, sniffling. “come home.”

—

a half-naked jungkook abruptly opens the door to yoongi’s room, wearing gray sweatpants with his left arm awkwardly inserted in one of the black t-shirt’s armhole.

“hyung! can i borrow your car? mine’s getting a check-up.”

yoongi tears his eyes away from the computer, hanging the black headphones on the nape of his neck. he merely shrugs before throwing the car key, and jungkook catches it in one hand with ease.

he sighs in relief, politely bowing his upper body to express his gratitude. “thank you, hyung.”

“what are you doing?!” yoongi half-smiles with fondness, jokingly waving him off. “just go- go. leave!”

—

jungkook nervously stands before your front door, head woozy with anticipation and fear. what if things have changed? what if your relationship never goes back to the way it was?

“oh. you’re back together?”

he whips his head back to find your neighbor arriving home from his part-time job. huh, he just realized that he has never really learned what his name is. the only information he has on him is that his sister owns a bee farm.

“how did you even know?” he asks with knitted eyebrows. “you haven’t been giving out honey again, have you?”

“she only accepted it once.” the stranger puts his arms up in surrender with a roll of his eyes. “and don’t make her cry again, will you? she blasts sad songs late at night.”

and with an unpleasantly forceful shut of the door, jungkook is left alone in the hallway. his jaw clenches as he glares at the next apartment, but he rubs his face to release his frustration before he goes to meet you.

“we need to move in together.” he grumbles to himself as he enters your unit, relocking the door behind him. he removes his sneakers, neatly setting them down beside your pairs of shoes by the doormat.

he pads on the wooden floor with his white toe socks, looking around the dark and quiet living room. a faint orange light is seeping under the gap between the floor and the bedroom door, which he recognizes to be your favorite mode on your multi-colored nightstand lamp. he cautiously cracks the door open, and he is instantly greeted by your curled up figure, peacefully sleeping.

it’s muscle memory when he hangs his backpack on the backrest of your study chair before anything else. he also brought the paper bag you sent, putting it down on the floor.

he squats down infront of you, lightly prying away the phone you’re hugging to your chest and placing the device on the bedside table. the light is shining over your skin, and there are a thousand of photos and videos organized into the most treasured folder in his gallery, but not a single one of them will ever do you justice.

god, he missed you so much. it hasn’t been two years, but the life he had before he met you feels like an extremely distant memory.

he sighs, talking in hopes that he appears in your dreams. “how do you do this? you make it impossible not to love you.”

he unconsciously frowns at the sight of your puffy eyes. never again. never again. never again. he chants inside his head. he plants a kiss on each of your eyelids, taking his time to bask in the feeling of your weight under his lips.

he climbs on the opposite side of the bed, tucking you underneath the blanket before securely holding you from behind with his thigh hanging over yours. the warmth of your body and the scent of your shampoo cures the headache that’s been bothering him the whole day. he drifts off to sleep soon after.

—

the feather-light brushes through the silky locks of his hair pulls him out of his slumber half an hour later. he can make out your silhouette through his half-open eyes, the little-mermaid-like scene feels too vivid for a dream.

“why didn’t you wake me up?” you whine, sulking with a pout.

“i’m sorry.” he answers quietly, sitting up to engulf you in a tight embrace as endless apologies tumble from his tongue. “i’m sorry. i’m sorry that i gave up. i’m sorry that i hurt you. i’m so sorry… are you angry at me?”

“i’m upset.” you admit after a few beats, not seeing the point in sugarcoating it. “it hurts when i remember you saying that. and i understand you but… but i don’t like that you decided alone for us. if you do that again… then it will be over between us.”

he has an arm wrapped around your waist, his other hand firmly holding the back of your head. it’s a little hard to breathe, but it’s so reassuring to feel that he doesn’t want to let you out of his embrace. because you hated it — hated how it felt like letting you go was so easy.

“i regret everything. i’m sorry.” he whispers, concealing his tears by nuzzling his face on your neck. “and you’re not a burden. that’s not true.”

he knows that you mean your every word, so he lifts up his head to gaze directly into your eyes, showing that he is as sincere and true to his.

“from now on, all i’ll think about is what i can do to make you happy and safe without compromising our relationship… i’ll do better. i’ll love you better. i promise that i’ll be stronger for us. i won’t make the same mistake twice.”

you wish jungkook could be kinder to himself, treat himself with the same gentleness that comes so naturally with you. why is it that humans find loving themselves so laborious? why does being have to come with such a curse?

taking glimpses at the past, you should’ve been reminding him of these affirmations everyday.

“you don’t have to be strong all the time. i’m not asking for that.” you shake your head, voicing out yourself in a tone so soothing and illuminating. “i don’t want to go anywhere far away from you so think of yourself, too. i told you before, it’s okay to hold on to me. i’m also strong.”

jungkook feels so safe at home. he doesn’t remember what he was so worried of anymore.

“and you know what? if you really see it that way, then i’m telling you now. i want to waste my time on you. you can’t stop me.” your threatening eyes widen in conviction, provoking a sheepish smile to tug at the corners of his lips. “i always get what i want.”

“and you want me?” he innocently points at himself.

“love you.”

“i love you.” he replies, nosing at your neck before leaving a chaste kiss on your skin. “so much.”

“then put yourself in my shoes.” you hum, combing his hair with your fingers, lightly tugging to initiate eye-contact. “i want to take care of you just like how you want to take care of me. i think we have something rare and beautiful…” you pause, self-conscious about coming across as too needy now that you’re face-to-face, but an epiphany shatters your apprehension with a bow and an arrow.

this is what he needed to hear from you that day.

“so stay with me.”

jungkook’s vision becomes unfocused. he’s speechless; the only sound in the room is the humming of the airconditioner, but it’s almost as if you can hear the gears of his brain working their hardest. the pain that glossed his enchanting doe eyes has been replaced with a devotion you’ve never seen expressed so passionately in them before.

“all the time i own is yours.” he declares, cupping your face, the pad of his thumb daintily stroking your cheek. “all of it. we can do anything you want to do. let me make it up to you.”

“anything?” your face lights up with joy and mischief, and the butterflies in jungkook’s stomach come alive. he wants to make it his life’s mission to make you smile everyday; and that, he will do. “then i want you to kiss me.”

the sultriness of your enticing voice makes him go haywire. it’s been too damn long. he has forgotten what it feels like to kiss you. he slowly inches closer, his lips brushing against your lips before he pulls you in deeper, a fervent display of his yearning and apologies. he swallows the needy moan that escapes you as he slowly lays you down on the mattress, stripping off his shirt and mindlessly tossing it somewhere when you impatiently tug at it with another whimper. you cage his face in your hands, bringing back his lips on yours as if he’s the air that you breathe.

he wants to grieve for all the wasted time because everyday, he craved for this. to be honest, he forgets his name when he’s kissing you. outside, the crowds scream his name for being the best at what he does best, and he happily lives for the euphoria of it all. but in this room, there is only you and him. you communicate using the unspoken language of love with your lips. you bare the soft animal in yourselves with your teeth sinking in the other’s skin. you allow your rawest desires and truths to unravel with a slip of the tongue. he exists beyond his name, becomes an indecipherable enigma even to himself. what is the use of an explanation if there is no meaning anyway? all he knows is that he loves you despite all the reasons, against all the reasons.

he sneaks under your shirt, fingertips teasingly exploring your skin as if he’s drawing a map. he feels you quiver when he finally reaches your chest, gently kneading the soft flesh in his palm. this makes you mewl in pleasure, arching your back as your hand unconsciously curls around his wrist, the cotton fabric separating the two of you. the action electrifies jungkook, makes him lose himself a little more, which he didn’t think was still possible.

“touch me, please- jungkook. need you-” you choke out a desperate whimper, nearly sobbing as you guide his hand between your thighs. you can’t bear to spend another second untouched; the last time you made love feels like an eternity ago. he slips past the waistband of your underwear, the only article of clothing you’re wearing below. but to your disappointment, he gently caresses your hip bone instead of dipping his long fingers into your wetness.

“shh, hold on, baby-” he forces himself to break away from the kiss, swollen and red lips glistening with spit. “baby, look at me. you didn’t drink, right? i don’t want to take advantage.”

you gape at him with your chest heaving up and down, dumbfounded. “how could you even think of that right now?”

his eyes widen in panic, worried that he might’ve offended you. “no, no, no-” his palms skim your thighs, guiding them to wrap around his slim waist. you gasp when he presses up on you and his hard length rubs on your folds, sending jolts of electricity up your spine. a gush of arousal dampens the thin material covering your center.

“i want you so fucking bad that it hurts.” he gingerly wipes away the tears that you didn’t even notice streamed down to your temples. you can’t remember the last time you cried before today, they must’ve gotten tired of asking for your permission. “but you were crying when you called, baby. i had to make sure.”

“oh, my boyfriend is such a gentleman.” you muse dreamily. pepper his face with delicate kisses, lips curving upward with an adoring smile. “look at him enjoying my kisses.”

you playfully squeeze his cheeks together, making his pillowy lips pucker.

“you really wanted to break up with me in this case, huh? you wanted to live without me and my kisses? no way.”

his eyelids flutter open, and he shakes his head as he dips down to kiss you. “it was hell without you…” his teeth captures your bottom lip, nipping at the supple flesh. “going to build a life with you. i’ll build furniture, and they’re going to be ours.”

“good. you better.” your high-pitched giggles bounce off the walls as his lips trail down to your neck, licking a bold stripe over your ticklish spots. “i don’t have the patience for it, but i’ll be your trusty assistant.”

it’s ridiculous, how even the sound of your laughter turns him on even more.

—

jungkook learned that you finished your exams yesterday, having spent majority of the past two weeks pulling all-nighters to prepare for them. you seem to be confident about the results, the way you talked about it without concern. he never once doubted that you’re resolute and persevering, but acing your exams in the middle of a breakup is beyond what he can digest. it must’ve been a grueling experience, he can only imagine.

he presses a sweet kiss to your forehead, and then your lips, before dragging the blanket higher over your naked figure, a thicker one he brought out from the cabinet. poor thing, you fell asleep on his lap while he was drying your hair, incoherently murmuring about how tired you are.

he walks to your study space, fixing the loosening towel wrapped around his waist. one by one, he pulls out the items from the paper bag, returning them to their old places on your desk. he toothily grins at the windbreaker, ecstatic due to his plan on wearing it at work today. he wants to give it back to you smelling like him again.

an index card lands on the ground when he unfolds it, making him peer down in curiosity.

“what’s this?” he mumbles, bending down to pick it up.

jumbled thoughts. a letter shoved at the back of the mailbox. a hesitant confession. a bittersweet reminder that says: a wound does not magically disappear overnight. it requires the proper treatment to heal correctly, and even then, it might still leave a scar.

These are only a few of many. Why is this the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do? I’m usually the more logical one. Was it really so bad that we weren’t going anywhere?

and messily crossed out at the end,

I miss you.

—

taglist in the reblogs! send an ask / dm if you want to be added (or removed) :D

—

#jungkook #jungkook fluff #jungkook drabble #jungkook scenario #jungkook imagine #jungkook one shot #jungkook fic #jungkook fanfic #jungkook x you #jungkook x reader #jungkook au #bts fluff #bts reaction #jungkook angst #jungkook smut

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thisblogisaboutabook · 2 months

Text

Rainy Season - Part 2

What You Gonna Do?

Azriel x Reader

A short follow up to Rainy Season since you all have been so gracious with your responses - Initially I planned a time jump for part 2 but decided to give a taste of the aftermath of her leaving. Things will eventually look up for our girl, she’s just going through it right now. Stay tuned for more! I’ve decided to make this a short series.

Part 1 Part 3

Warnings: cheating, language

Azriel

Who wakes you when the morning comes?

Azriel awoke to rays filling the room with brightness. Shit - he’d overslept. Why hadn’t Y/N woken him? He looked over to find the bed cold, as if it had been vacant for hours.

Wiping the sleep from his eyes, he wandered to the kitchen, lacking its welcoming aroma of fresh coffee and the sweet and savory aromas of pastries and bacon. No, it was totally empty.

Where was she?

“Y/N?” He groggily called out into the house.

Silence.

Slipping on a pair of pajama pants he wandered to the door. The chill of the house whipping against his bare, muscled abdomen.

Perhaps she was basking in the sunlight on the patio. He always loved how she looked in the morning rays - a deity in her own right. He should probably tell her that sometime.

Padding to the front door, two things caught his attention.

One, his clothes were strewn over top of his bag and two, a note was scrawled in her messy handwriting.

No - not a note. A list of rhetorical questions.

“Who wakes you when the morning comes?

Who gives you all she has to give?

Who fulfills all her promises?

Who sees the good in you?

What are you gonna do when I’m gone?

Where you gonna go when there’s nobody home?

Who’s gonna love you when you’re all alone?”

He dropped his head. Fuck - things were good last night. What happened? As he bent back down to clear up the strewn undergarments, the strong, sweet scent of Elain wafting into his nostrils.

No - those questions were not rhetorical. They were a plea. “Who?” Who is that person to him?

Clutching his chest he realized just how terrible a mistake he’d made when he fucked Elain.

—————

Y/N

The warm rays of the Summer Court and the overwhelming weight of crushing heartbreak greeted me bright and early. A mockery to the pouring rain I’d traveled through last night, showing up at my grandmother’s door like a drowned rat.

Instead of chastising me for how long it had been since I’d paid her a visit, her brown eyes only met me with compassion. She knew me well and every ounce of pain on my face spoke the words that I couldn’t get out.

She pulled me into a bone crushing hug, ran a hot bath and steeped a pot of tea before laying in bed behind me and running her fingers through my hair until my heaving sobs turned to shuddering breaths and eventually a deep sleep.

It was a strange feeling. It had been too long since I’d seen her and yet, she showed me more love and compassion in a span of three hours than I had in the last three years.

Thank the gods the rays woke me early as I had to make it to the palace in Adriata immediately.

“Leaving me so soon?” Grandmother asked as I hurried out the door. “Sorry! I promise I’ll be back before lunch.”

I’d only met Tarquin a handful of times but sensed that he was a kind, benevolent ruler. Still, I expected to meet with his officials before being granted access to his office but when he’d heard who was here to see him, he immediately made time for me.

By the end of our meeting, he’d granted me renewed citizenship in the Summer Court and wrote to Rhysand effectively barring Azriel from his court. Careful to not create tensions in the court, he revoked the current ban on Cassian so long as he could keep himself from destroying any more buildings within his court.

Despite my numb state, a small smile flickered across my face as I imagined Cassian’s reaction to the news. He wasn’t one to hold petty grudges but he certainly clung on to that of being banned from the Summer Court. I just hoped he wouldn’t be angry with me for leaving without saying goodbye.

Additionally, Tarquin discussed my skill set with me and by the end of the meeting I had been offered a paid position in teaching self-defense courses within the palace to a variety of age groups, primarily focusing on women and children. I brought few assets with me upon leaving the Night Court and my pride was too stubborn to withdraw any of the money from Azriel and I’s shared account when I left. No, I could do well enough on my own - thank you very much.

After the battle of Adriata, Tarquin had ramped up efforts of ensuring his citizens were better protected on all fronts so his offer was mutually beneficial for his court and me, ergo not solely extended out of pity. My pride beamed at that.

I gratefully accepted his offer.

—————

I returned home. Home? No, not home - to my grandmother’s house to find that my sister and nephew were there waiting for me.

“Oh my gods!!!!!” My sister Camila yelped. Practically tackling me.

“Gran! You didn’t tell me that Y/N was coming for lunch. You secretive old thing.”

Before he could say anything I swooped my nephew, Alex, up into my arms and - ouch, I was not as strong as I used to be because it was an effort to lift him. He’d grown at least a foot since the last time I’d seen him. A pang of guilt struck me out of my blissful state and back to reality at the thought. It had been far too long since I’d come to visit my family.

“Where’s Uncle Azriel?” he asked.

The question struck me like a knife. My expression faltering as I scrambled to regain composure. “He’s on a mission.” I lied.

My sister’s brows furrowed. She was always too good at reading me but thankfully she didn’t press further. I would talk to her when I was ready.

We spent the rest of the afternoon chatting and catching up. Alex animatedly told me of school and all of his friends - I couldn’t help but smile as the warm summer breeze whisped over my exposed skin. The tea tasted a little bit sweeter, the air a little fresher, and the company a little warmer.

—————

“Y/N?”

Rhysand’s distant voice echoed into my mind as I lay down for bed that night. I always forgot how far his daemati abilities could carry.

“Hello, Rhys.”

“I received Tarquin’s letter. Azriel has been on edge all day and…. Well, I’m not going to ask you to share anything you don’t want to but - it must have been bad. Take all the time you need.”

“I’m not coming back, Rhys.”

The words rolled through me so quickly that I almost believed them but I knew I’d need closure at some point. For now, I wasn’t ready for that.

Seeming to sense that exact thought Rhys only replied, “Write me or Feyre if you need anything at all.”

—————

Who cries knowing you don’t care?

Night time always brought out stronger emotions in me. I’d keep my emotional barriers held high all day but as the sun set, so did those walls. As I lay in bed that night the first waves of grief blew through me. Not a wave of my own grief which had been omnipresent within me but… Azriel’s grief through our bond.

Of course it took me leaving for him to feel anything toward me through our own mating bond. I shut it down as effectively as I could and cried. Tears of anger flowed as I realized that my presence was never enough but my absence was what it took for him to give a damn about me.

Who worries what the future holds?

I grieved the future that could have been ours had he only chosen me. I let the sobs pour out once again as his pain rolled through me in waves. He couldn’t even extend the courtesy of shutting down his end of the bond as he came to grips with the ramifications of his own actions. His emotions only brought me bitterness and maybe that was a flaw on my end but it sure as hell felt justified. I spent so long giving him everything and even now, I still receive only heartache in return.

Who’s tired of empty promises?

He swore he’d love me forever but forever only meant until someone better came along. Certainly it wouldn’t be long before he returned to Elain for comfort. Would he be courteous enough to shut down the bond then or would I feel the pleasure she brought as she soothed his emotional wounds then too? As he healed and made the same empty promises to her that he had to me? Hell, had he already made those promises to her? Would he hold to them for her?

What would he do now that I’m gone?

What would I do now that I’m gone?

———————————————

A/N brace yourselves, we’re getting a different character’s POV in the next chapter 😏 🔥

Tags:

@going-through-shit @kalulakunundrum @lisanna2000 @fxckmiup @sheblogs @emryb @one-big-fangirl @historygeekqueen @isa1b2h3 @bigcreatorwombatdreamer @theravenphoenix26

#acotar #sarah j maas #azriel x reader #Azriel #a court of silver flames #a court of thorns and roses #a court of frost and starlight #a court of mist and fury #a court of wings and ruin #azriel shadowsinger #inspired by hunter hayes #Tarquin #summer court #fuck around and find out #azriel angst #acotar angst #elriel #azriel x elain #elain archeron

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azrielsdove · 5 months

Text

Cold Hearts Pt. 2

Warnings: Some graphic violence, angst

Pt. 1 Here | Pt. 3 Here

***

You cried until the sun set that night. You knew you hadn’t been that nice to the Shadowsinger, but you didn’t think you had given him such a poor impression. You never imagined that he would ever say anything to you like he did tonight.

The worst of it all was that he was right.

You were cold to everyone, never really letting anyone get that close. Feyre had gotten the closest, but you backed off as she started falling for Rhys, letting her work through her feelings.

Rhys. Your greatest friend. Even he had distanced himself from you, distracted with his beautiful High Lady. You couldn’t blame him, you knew he deserved a love like that. After all he had gone through, the least you could do was give him time with her.

Azriel had clocked your jealousy.

Yet it wasn’t in the way he thought. There was never anything romantic between you and Rhysand. He saved your life, and you were forever grateful to him. You were jealous in the same way you were jealous of Cassian and Nesta. Of Amren and Varian.

They had love.

Something you knew would never be yours. Not after what happened the last time you thought you found it. You felt the pain as if it had happened just yesterday, the trauma of it all still fresh.

You weren’t supposed to be out here. You were very aware of just how bad it would be for you if you got caught. You couldn’t help the draw to learn, though. You wanted to be strong, powerful, brave. You watched the Illyrian soldiers train all day in between your chores, amazed at how deadly they were. You wanted to be like them.

So you began sneaking off, late into the night. You would go to the edge of the wood, practicing the moves you had seen them do. For the first time in your life you felt in control. You felt like you could be more than a docile little Illyrian wife.

You had been lucky, your wings had not been cut. Your father wasn’t a kind man, but he didn’t think they should be cut unless there was reason. If you were trying to run away, or train….well. You made sure he would never know. You were very careful.

Then you met Gannon. He was dark and handsome. He was kind to you. You fell fast, and you fell hard. He told you he was going to ask your father to take you as his bride, and for the first time you saw yourself as the perfect Illyrian wife. With Gannon by your side, you thought you would live a happier life than most. He had never said anything about you still having your wings, allowing them to exist as you did.

You decided to trust him with your secret. You brought him into your little corner of the wood, showing the makeshift weapons and little training ring you had created over the last couple years. You turned to him with a broad smile, hopeful for his reaction. He had wrapped you in his arms and swung you around, laughing. “My little Illyrian soldier!” He had said, pressing a sweet kiss to your lips.

You were truly happy.

Or so you thought. A few nights had gone by since you showed Gannon your training area, and he had agreed to meet you tonight to help you further. You could hardly feign sleep, excitement bubbling in the tips of your toes. Once you were certain your parents were out for the night, you crept out of your house and ran to the wood. You burst into your training area, spotting Gannon right away. He opened his arms for you and you ran right into them, wrapping yours around him.

This was bliss.

Then you felt the blade, slicing up through the base of your exposed wings. You cried out, Gannon holding you to him tighter. “Hush now, my little Illyrian soldier.” He whispered, the words not nearly as sweet as they had been a few days prior. You heard a cold laugh from behind you, realizing you weren’t alone. The other male shoved a piece of leather into your mouth, muffling your screams as Gannon severed your wings.

He moved slowly. So, so slowly. You felt every millimeter of your wings rip away from you. You realized the other male with you was your father. “You were told only well behaved females got to keep their wings. It was a grace I had given you, out of the kindness of my heart. And you betrayed me. You disgraced this family, you undermined me.” His words were cruel, cold.

One wing dropped to the ground.

You screamed against the leather as Gannon began on the second one. “Did you really believe I would take a wife who thinks she knows better than me? Females do not train. You’re lucky i’m considering still taking you after this.” You were shaking in his arms, vision beginning to black out at the pain. You were ready to welcome the sweet release of unconsciousness when Gannons blade stilled. One cruel hand slipped up under your chin, pulling your face up to look at him. “No, you will stay with us for this. You deserve to feel the pain after what you have done.” You cried as his blade resumed the destruction of your remaining wing.

The second wing dropped to the ground.

You let the tears flow silently, your back aching where the wings used to be. You felt your father come up behind you and rip the back of your nightgown open, not caring that the fabric rubbed against the open wounds. You smelt the fire before you felt it, screaming in panic as you realized what was going to come.

He was going to burn the remaining pieces on your back.

The fire touched the already pain-filled nerves, your hands digging into Gannons chest. You forced yourself to look into his eyes, wondering why, why did he do this? You had loved him, you had trusted him, and he has ruined you. You screamed against the gag in agony, sobbing as the fire finished its job.

You were done for.

Your vision grew black again, your body failing in Gannons arms. No, you were on the ground now. He had dropped you. Your eyes were open, but you couldn’t see anything. You heard a shout from your left, the sound of fighting. You hoped whoever it was would do you a mercy and kill you.

You felt the darkness wrap around you. You prayed to the Mother that this was her gift to you, willing your heart to stop beating. Two strong arms picked you up, cradling you against a hard chest. You didn’t even have it to care who was holding you, didn’t even care if they were friend or foe. You just let yourself fade into that darkest night.

The memory had the tears streaming down your face harder than before. Rhysand was the one who found you that night. You’ve never asked what happened to your father and Gannon, and he never mentioned it again. Rhys brought you here, to Velaris. He called in his best healers and they tried to help the scarring as much as possible.

Their efforts were futile. You were left with a heavily scared back, the most prominent of which were two large ovals, dark on your skin. All that remained of your beautiful, perfect wings. A daily reminder of when you thought you had found love and happiness. You can admit that you have kept to yourself in your years here. You understood why Azriel would see you as so cold. Rhys has been the only one who could get you to trust him, and even that had been a long battle.

When he had been taken Under the Mountain, you felt the same despair you had the night you lost your wings. You were scared without him there. You knew Cassian and Azriel were good males, but you struggled to be around them. They reminded you too much of Gannon. When Azriel had approached you to offer to train, you wanted to decline. You wanted to slam the door in his face and lock yourself behind it.

You couldn’t do it though. Not to Rhys. You had heard the message, the same as everyone else. You knew it was important for you to be trained, to be able to help Velaris if it was ever needed. It was the least you could do for the city that kept you safe.

Training with Azriel proved to be rather enjoyable. You started to like the Shadowsinger, not that you would ever show him that. You knew it was best to keep your heart close, no one could hurt you that way. You began feeling strong again, powerful. Training with an Illyrian solider was much more beneficial than just training like one.

And then he had touched you. He put his hand on your back and you lost control of yourself. Panic had taken over your body, your mind. You barely even remembered what was said between the two of you. You had looked at Azriel and seen Gannon. You ran from the training ring that day, locking yourself in your room and falling apart. It was all too much.

You went to Cassian after that, asking him to train you. He thankfully asked no questions and agreed. You didn’t know what Rhys had told the others of you, if they knew what happened or not. They were all perfectly cordial, but you never stuck around to get to know them any better. Maybe it was time you did, time you started trying to be friendly again.

When Rhys came back from Under the Mountain you were the first one to him. You had held him so carefully, the same way he had held you the night he found you. He had cried that she was his mate, the Cursebreaker. That she was his mate and she loved another. You lead him carefully to his room, staying there with him that night. You let him cry and yell and talk when he wanted, treating him how he had treated you. You knew as well as he did that there was no cure for a shattered heart.

You were happy when you heard Rhys was bringing Feyre to Velaris. You weren’t happy about the why, but you knew she would be better off here with him. You grew close to Feyre rather quickly, even going so far as calling her a friend. You were quieter than the others, and you knew what it was like to be heavily traumatized. Although really, everyone knew that feeling at this point.

You thought back to what Azriel said in the library, his words spinning round and round your head. You have always acted like I disgust you, always glaring at my hands. You hadn’t realized the way you were looking at him. You felt a horrible shame creep up your spine, realizing you had become what you feared. You didn’t glare at his hands because they were ugly. You didn’t even know you were glaring at them. When you had first seen his hands, the scars all over them, you could only think of your own. The scarring on your back. How easy it was for you to hide them, how much harder it was for him.

You were scared of anyone looking at you the way you had been looking at Azriel. You felt a new wave of tears at the realization, guilt beginning to eat you alive. You decided in the morning you would go find him, when hopefully everything is calmer. You finally laid down and closed your eyes, falling into a restless sleep.

***

THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU FOR ALL THE LOVE ON PT. 1!!!! And THANK YOU to that wonderful anon for submitting this idea!!!! I know this is a little short, but I had to end it there to make pt. 3 work! I am probably going to continue to write tonight, soon our dear reader and az will get to talk 👀. Please keep sending comments and requests in!!!!

Also, I live in Alaska so I work off AKDT timewise. I also have a toddler so some days may be slower than others depending on her mood!! Thank you all again, I truly appreciate every comment, reblog, and like more than you know <3

#acotar #acotar x reader #azriel #azriel x y/n #azriel x you #azriel x reader #cold hearts

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sfehvn · 6 months

Text

intruder

Part 2 | Part 3

Description: A year has since came and went following Astarion's ascension ritual. He is no longer himself, but then... Where is he? Rating: M (18+ minors DNI) Word count: 1,717 Characters: ascended!Astarion x Tav

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Tears threatened to spill as you gazed upon the man before you. One that you so loved, so craved; one that you have proven loyalty to time and again. Nervous fingers fiddled with the luxurious silk that adorned your body. The material was something you had always eluded before. When your heart was still pumping and breathing was a necessity. You didn’t have much use for those actions anymore, yet you still felt the deep red gown to be constricting.

“My, red really is your color, isn’t it darling?” Astarion’s words encouraged your eyes to wilt towards the floor in submission.

“Yes, love.” They didn’t sound like your own anymore, regardless you still spoke. A gnawing ache permanently etched into your chest as you had come to realize. How long have you been doing this dance with him now? Time was simply a construct of another time for you. One reserved for your long-gone, rosy-cheeked self. Your heart weighed heavier than you could comprehend these days.

Your master’s pale fingers effortlessly land under your chin leading your eyes to his own. His brow furrowed with indignation, you assume at least. “What’s got you down?” He questions, eyes never faltering. You wanted to laugh, though you didn’t; of course. What a ridiculous question it was. You could have prepared a book on the things that are wrong.

The ridiculously lavish gowns you are confined to, for starters. So different from the armor that had once adorned your body when you had first met the fearful spawn. The complete lack of your feelings. The fact that you weren’t allowed to freely-think any longer. Astarion would argue that letting you pick the color of the sheets in the bed-chamber was sufficient enough. You missed the daylight. When light flooded from the doors of the manor, you fantasized of running out. Of making a bed out of the fresh flowers blooming in Baldur’s Gate and basking in the warmth of the rays above. Parts of you longed for it no matter the banishment those same rays would cast on you.

“I’m fine.” You utter instead, a weak smile splaying saddeningly across your face. The lack of attention from Astarion in the past months had taken its toll. Mind convinced he no longer wanted you for love as you had desired. The reason you had given your life to remain in the shadows for its eternity.

“Do not lie to me, darling.” He spoke firmly, a gentle thumb brushing your surely paled cheek. Instinctively your eyes shut and you lean into the touch yearningly. “What is wrong?” It came more as a demand but you were too distracted to comprehend his words. It had been so long since he had shown you the attention he showers you with now. Too long. A soft sigh escapes your lips as his free hand comes up to rest on your shoulder, cold fingertips caressing your cold neck, lingering over the raised flesh of scar tissue.

“I miss the sun.” You spoke hesitantly, your eyes fluttering to meet him once more. He nodded in encouragement, a silent word spoken for you to continue. “I miss being able to come and go as I please.” Your words became more confident. “And I hate this dress.” This elicited an amused chuckle from Astarion.

“What else, pet?”

“I miss you Astarion. Most days I can’t tell if you’re bored with me or not. I am reduced to shadows while you galavant over Baldur’s Gate. I-”

His eyes hardened, an indication to you that you had spoken too freely. “Galavant.” He sneered in distaste, releasing his hold on your chin and dropping his hand from your shoulder. “You think what I’ve been doing is galavanting? I work, without thanks, might I add. I did this for you. To ensure you can have a comfortable existence. To ensure you would never have to put yourself in harm's way again. So that we could spend eternity together. As we are fated.” The distaste in his words seared you.

This was a mistake you had decided. “Right, I’m sorry.” Quiet and meek, you pondered if he knew exactly how frightened you had become of his ruling hand. He had never hit you, no. He did not need to. You felt like another pawn in his game, and here you had let your guard falter just for him to bare his teeth again. Sleep, eat, fuck. That was the comfortable existence you were to live. If this was fate, she had a cruel and unkind hand played to you.

“The dress is nice on you.” Astarion added flatly. “The least you could do is be grateful and wear it without complaint. That is your duty. You look the part, you act the part. That includes not sulking around the manor and ruining my good day.” He sneered, his previously sweet demeanor gone. “I expect you to help me greet our guests. They will be here soon. You will not embarrass me with your sour mood and you will be a dutiful hostess tonight.” Without another word he leaves the bed chamber.

Stinging tears pooled in your eyes. You often wondered if your Astarion was still in there. The one who speaks charmingly to you when he does, the one who touches you sweetly to allow you the briefest moment of comfort and relief in his presence. Or has he just become an expert at fiddling with your strings, at manipulating you to get exactly what you’re thinking out of you. You suppose that is more likely. Astarion had often said the old him died the day of the ritual, something you had chalked up to a figure of speech until recently.

The old Astarion really did die that day, and you were stuck with a monster who moved about in his beautiful skin. You know that now.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

“You were a good girl tonight.” Astarion delights as the two of you prepare to rest. His body bare, while yours is adorned in the finest nightgown the gold in his pockets can buy. You say nothing as you blindly pull each pin out of your hair. Running your fingers through the strands you discover another pin. Your maid had done an intricate updo in preparation for her master’s guests earlier in the evening, and you had only wished there was a way for you to admire her handiwork. Suddenly a pair of strong hands are on your shoulders. “I believe a reward is in order.”

You stiffened. “Something I receive every night can hardly be viewed as a reward.” You mull as you begin brushing through your hair. The grip on your shoulders tighten in contempt and just as quickly, they loosen.

“Tav?” Fear stricken words grace your ears, and you can’t help but turn quickly, his hands dropping to his sides. Astarion was never fearful. Not anymore. Your eyes are wide with confusion, desperation as your eyes shift over Astarion’s face. “Gods, what has he done to you?” Your stomach sinks. For a split second, you think of just how sickly you may look.

“A-Astarion?” You sputter, wide eyed. His eyes held an admiration you hadn’t seen since the ritual had taken place, since the Astarion you loved dearly had fallen prey to his own quest for power.

His knees buckled beneath his weight, head bowing into your lap. “What have I done?” His body shakes as sobs erupt from him, back rising and falling with each heartbreaking sound emanating. Naturally your hands reach for him, hands splayed over the deep scars on his back. Your own tears stream silently down your cheeks, unable to comprehend whatever is going on.

“Astarion… Is it you?” Carefully spoken, afraid of being deceived once more. What if this was some sort of sick test? What if you're banished to your bed chamber for two months again? You can’t do that again… You won't.

His head lifts slowly, his hands coming up to cup your cheeks. “It’s me, my darling. It’s me.” It is spoken brokenly, voice cracking in defeat. “I’m not sure how long I have. I, gods, I’m so sorry.”

“Wait, what do you mean? Please don’t leave me again Astarion.” The thought of being punished pushed to the back of your mind. This is him. You both grabbed at each other with sorrowful hands. “What do you mean you don’t know how long you have?” Louder than you expected, desperation oozing from every word. “Please don’t leave me.”

“I’ve no choice.” Astarion’s voice is weak. “I’ve been trying to break through since the ritual, love. He…” He trails for a moment, “He’s too strong.” He shakes his head, disgust evident on his tongue. “I’m so sorry, my love.” He begins, stating his apologies over and over again, as if he was stuck in a melancholic daze.

“Where will you go- where are you?” The tears sting at your eyes again, moving down your face and you don’t bother brushing them away, feverishly lavishing in every second you have left with him. “Are you in pain?” You ask shakily.

“I’m here. I’m not in control.” He shakes his head, eyes distant. “It’s dark. The only pain I feel is being away from you.” Infinitely succumbing to darkness, the very thing Astarion had wanted to avoid. His body has become a vessel for something evil. “I can’t-” The words were painful as he seemed to struggle internally.

There is a brief flash of pain upon his face before that same face of contempt reappears. His eyes are dark and he swiftly stands to his feet. He would not kneel to you. Perhaps it was because he had been bested by the soul that lurks deep in his depths, the embarrassment too great, he simply leaves the bed chamber.

You’re left disoriented. You were momentarily glad that the other Astarion wouldn’t punish you for the indiscretion of indulging the spawn that had fought his way out of the darkness for a juncture, perhaps it would come at a later time.

Your mind was plagued, but at the forefront was your love. Suspended in time, in darkness, alone.

#astarion x tav #ascended!astarion x tav #ascended astarion #tav #astarion x reader #ascended!astarion x reader #bg3 #baldur's gate 3

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letstalkaboutshtufff · 1 month

Text

In another life pt 2

Pairing: Satoru Gojo x Reader

Summary: A visit to Nanami and trip down memory lane

Warnings: Language and suggestive themes but only a bit lol

Part 3

****************************************************

A/N: was so overwhelmed by the amount of love I received for part one!! Thank you all so much for the support😭🩵

“This is definitely a first” Nanamis gaze travelled up and down your body.

You shuffled uncomfortably from your place on the couch. Gojo stood leaning on the wall behind you.

“Yeah I’ve been hearing that a lot today..” you sighed.

“Hmm, well from what I know. This curse has been known to travel through dimensions, which is why he’s been so hard to catch in the past. He disappeared several years ago after somehow escaping from a seal. Looks like he ended up in your universe.”

“That makes sense, it was only a couple years ago he appeared and Satoru subdued him. A couple months ago he told me he found some weird residual energy on the seal but otherwise everything was ok… I guess the theory of the spy was correct but…” you brought a hand to your chin.

“Go on” he encouraged.

“We placed three seals on them. There’s no way an amateur broke through them… I wonder if he has any clue on who it could be...”

BZZT BZZT BZZT

“Another call?” Gojo tilted his head forward.

You picked up the phone and read “Weird Bangs” well speak of the devil!

“Nope just a text.”

-Hey you ok? Satoru just told me what happened. Don’t worry, we’re investigating as we speak. We’ll have you home in no time.

You smiled warmly and replied,

-Thanks Sugu, I have complete faith in you two. And don’t worry I’m ok.

“Anything important?”

“Not really, Sugu was just checking in. By the way, is he on a mission or something? I haven’t sensed your version of him yet. Unless you don’t have a version of him which would be honestly so weird since I swear you two are like your own couple..”

Little did you know the room had gone from warm to freezing cold.

“What did you just say…”

“Huh?” You tensed seeing the mood was a bit off now.

“Wait…don’t tell me he’s…dead?” Instant dread washed over you.

“No..he’s very much alive…” (excuse me while I change the timeline a little)

“Then what’s-“ you tilted your head.

“Nanami, what can you tell us about the curse transporting other people?”

You blinked at his sudden change in topic.

“Honestly nothing.” Your shoulders slumped.

“Really?”

“Yes but I promise I’ll do everything in my power to ensure you get home safely”.

“Thanks Nanami…” you tried not to feel to sad, after all you had so many people working hard to figure it out.

“Well it’s getting late, why don’t we continue this tommorow, Nanami you’ll reach out if you find anything yeah?”

He nodded, “I’ll dig into some of the old archives, and let you know what I find.”

“Thank you Nanami” you smiled and followed gojo out of the room.

“So what now?” The sun had set and you realized that for the first time in years you were not going to sleep in your own bed, cuddled next to your husband.

“Well… I could take you to one of the spare dorms here but considering the curse is still out there I think it’s best if you stick with me”

“So back to your place?” Haha that takes you back.

“That ok with you?”

“Mhmm” not like I’m used to anything else but being with you…

“Ok then, hang on” he touched your shoulder and suddenly you were transported to a place that smelled like fresh linen and his cologne.

“Oh wow this takes me back” you flicked on the light and took in the old place.

Gojo raised a brow that you seemed to know your way around.

“I take it you’ve been here before?”

You nodded fondly while taking in the place once again, “yeah, we spent so much time here back while we were dating…I lived in a really crappy apartment that you had to bend down in.” You laugh at the memory.

You turn to look out the floorlength window and promptly scream.

“AHH is that me!?!? Have I looked like this all day!?!” You could barely see your skin it was covered in dirt and grime from the previous fight and your hair was basically inviting birds to make it their home.

“I need to shower…” ah crap I didn’t think to stop and get clothes.

“I’ll find you some clothes… the shower is over the-“ but you were already beelining towards the bathroom eagerly to wash the filth off of you.

“Right you already know… so weird” he crossed his arms.

The second the steaming water hit your body you sighed in relief. It took a good 15 minutes for the water to run clear.

Using his body wash sure took you back to the days you’d sleep over. Those days were some of the best of your life. Watching movies late into the night, eating junk food, making out, falling asleep tangled together…

You shut your eyes before the tears could come.

No, none of that, you had the best and strongest people on the case. You’d be home soon, so let’s think of this as a weird mini vacation.

After your shower you dried yourself off and peeked into the bedroom where the door connected to. Sure enough you found a set of his pjs on the bed.

His shirt engulfed you, looking more like a dress. You thought for a moment to forgo the pants but realized you probably shouldn’t go pantless and underwearless around new Gojo.

Once you were decent you stepped outside into the main living space.

A delicious aroma immediately invaded your senses.

Wait… no fricken way!?

“You cook!?!?”

“Huh?” Gojo paused to look back over his shoulder. “Of course I cook… does your Gojo not?”

“He- he tried once but burnt everything… and anyway I’m home way more so I usually do the cooking..”

“Well I hope you like seafood, I haven’t gone shopping yet so there wasn’t really many options.”

He turned back to the stove to continue stirring.

You sat on one of the counter barstools and watched him in awe.

He even has the towel thrown over his shoulder and everything...

“So tell me about other Gojo. How did you guys meet?”

“Well… actually it’s kind of embarrassing…”

“Oh well now I have to know”

“Well I was jogging by this old elementary school and this curse popped out. It was so cute tho it looked like a super fluffy puppy. And then suddenly you popped in, ready to blast it to smithereens when I jumped in front and defended it….” He paused his stirring and looked over at you again.

“Yeah I know.. it was crazy but the curse really wasn’t that bad. So anyway I picked it up and started running away from you…”

“Pfft seriously?”

“Yeah… you should’ve seen your face haha. I made it about 10 steps before you warped in front of me”

*Flashback*

“Uh listen lady, that thing your holding is very dangerous so it’s best if you-“

“No way!”

“Huh?”

“No way, he’s just a little baby, he hasn’t hurt anyone!” You hugged the curse tight to your body and for some reason the curse seemed… relaxed?

“Lady… it’s a curse.. we can’t exactly just leave it to roam free..”

“Well then….”you thought for a moment..

“I’ll keep it!”

“You’ll keep it…” he repeated to himself in disbelief

“Mhm hm” you nodded.

“Uh…” he watched you snuggle the curse closer and the curse for whatever bizarre reason seemed content.

“It hasn’t hurt anyone has it?”

“Not that I’m aware of..”

“Then it’s settled! I’m keeping him.”

“Uh…”

“Don’t worry, I have some skill in exorcizing curses if anything goes wrong but it won’t will it little cutie?” You rubbed under its chin and it started to purr.

“Ok so you’re serious…uh well here’s my number… in case he decides to turn murdery and you can’t handle him”

You smile and hand him your phone, when he hands it back you glance down and let out a little gasp.

He smirked, you must’ve realized who he was now.

“You have the same screensaver as me! I love that show!!”

“Haha well it is a good show, even if the heroine sucks.”

“What- what did you just say?! She’s the best one!”

“No way, if you ask me the best friend should be in the spotlight.”

“That snobby bitch? No way” you made a face.

“Snobby? I see it as confidence.”

“You must’ve gotten knocked in the head too many times by a curse..”

“Well it doesn’t really matter, I think she’s gonna take that job in the next episode.”

“Wait you think so? As much as I hate her, she makes the story interesting.”

“Yeah I-“ BZZZT BZZZT BZZZT

“Ah sorry hold on”

You watched him turn and take the call. Looking at him now, even without seeing his eyes you could tell he was good looking.

“Sorry, duty calls. Make sure to call me if…that thing suddenly decides to eat you ok?”

“I will, thanks”

He whooshed away and you looked down at your phone.

Satoru Gojo….

Oh my god

No fucking way…

He had the same name as your favorite book character! What a small world…

“Alright cutie, let’s get you home. I wonder what you eat?”

*End flashback*

“Don’t tell me you still have that thing?”

“That thing has a name and his name is cutie. And to this day he hasn’t hurt a fly! Well actually that’s a lie because he does eat all the bugs around the house.. but other than that he’s harmless. He does chew the furniture though..” awe I hope he’s ok..

“You’re a little strange you know that?”

“You’re one to talk..”

“Hey, you shouldn’t insult the hand that feeds you.”

“You’re right sorry chef” you bowed jokingly then went to grab plates to set the table.

“Oh I hope you don’t mind me touching stuff.” You retracted your hand afraid he might get upset.

“Be my guest.” He waved nonchalantly.

Ten minutes later you were sat across each other.

“Oh lemme grab some drinks” he stood up and disappeared into the kitchen again.

You nodded and began plating your dish and his. His having three times the portion like usual.

Gojo came back and sat down with his mouth slightly open.

You realized your mistake and felt heat rise to your cheeks. “S-sorry it- I did that out of habit. Didn’t mean to make you feel weird..”

“It’s fine it’ll just take some getting used to is all…” he smirked and dug in.

“Thank you for the meal.” You twirled your fork around the shrimp and pasta and took a bite.

Oh hell no

“Something wrong?”

“Satoru this is amazing… like really really amazing”

“Glad you like it”

“No but seriously this is so good…Why can’t my version do this??”

You took another bite and swooned, maybe you’d leave your version for this one…

BZZT BZZT BZZT

“Oh it’s you! Well other you..”

“Satoru?”

“Hey babe you doing alright?”

“Yeah, I’m alright… we met with Nanami earlier, he said he’s going to do some more research and let us know if he finds anything..”

“Same here, Suguru and I are tracking the curse down but it’ll take a little bit of time, he’s a slippery one that’s for sure”

“Mm, sorry for putting everyone through this trouble…”

“Don’t worry, I have plenty of ways you can make it up to me later”

“Ah geez I need to stop putting you on speaker..”

“You’re not alone? It’s pretty late..”

“Yeah well other you thought it would be best to keep me close for safety reasons. I’m here at the old penthouse actually.”

“….”

“Toru?”

“You’re with other me?”

You blinked. “Uh yes?“

“Hey other me!”

You tilt the phone closer to this Gojo so he can hear better.

“Uh yes?”

“I know it’s tempting but no canoodling my girl alright?”

“S-satoru!”

“Not even a little touch, I mean it.”

“Satoru what are you talking about?! I just met the guy!”

“And? Do you remember how I was back then?”

“Well...” yeah a manwhore..

“Oh yeah and another word of advice, no girls over to the place. She gets suuuuuuper jealous, one time she even told our pet to attack and-“

“I did not! That was-!-you know that was an accident!”

“Mhmm sure”

“You know cutie feeds off my feelings, I didn’t tell him to bite her arm!”

“Of course sweetheart of course..”

“You- what about that time you hijacked my date!”

“That was purely coincidental, I was in the area.”

“Sure you were…”

“Anywhoooooo, did you take your meds?”

“Y-yeah”

“Liar”

“Hey make sure she gets those pills, she’ll faint without them and I don’t need her falling into anyone else’s arms”

“S-satoru good night already, I’ll talk to you later…”

“Alright sorry, you know I worry. Night baby, don’t feel too lonely without me”

*click*

“Ugh annoying jerk” you words didn’t match your soft tone.

Gojo leaned back in his chair and scanned your form.

Did he? Did a version of him really fall in love and settle down. You were certainly beautiful but he’d been with a lot of beautiful women.. did your strength draw his attention? He supposed he hasn’t seen you fight yet, maybe he would fix that soon..

“Oh uh sorry you had to hear all that again, I hope it’s not too weird”

“Well I’m not gonna lie and say it’s normal but..”

You smiled and brought another forkful to your mouth.

“Thank you for everything, really… you don’t even know me and you’re doing all this..”

“Well hey don’t worry about it, any alter ego/universe me’s wife is a friend of mine”

“Heh thanks” glad to know all Gojos humor are the same across universes.

After dinner you helped clean up and were lounging on the couch while Gojo went to shower.

He wouldn’t mind if you turned on the tv right?

So far this Gojo was 99.8 percent a carbon copy of yours so no he wouldn’t mind.. plus tonight the new episode of “Wishing I was yours” was airing and you couldn’t miss it..

And that’s how Gojo found you 20 minutes later, arms wrapped around your knees cuddling a pillow, tearful eyes glued to the TV screen.

‘No! No you can’t leave me. You can’t give up after everything we’ve been through’

‘Forgive me my love, you’ll have to continue this journey without me…’

‘No! I need you!!’

‘I’m only going to put you in danger… it has to be this way… I’m sorry’

‘Noooooooooooooooo!’

How can she watch this crap…

Gojo made his presence known and stepped in front of the couch.

“Oh hey, I-i hope it was ok that I- ah no don’t go!!” Your focus was quickly redirected back to the gripping scene. You groaned when the credits rolled.

“Dammit you were right about the ending…now I have to do that thing… ugh” you mumbled into the pillow.

Gojo couldn’t help but be curious what that thing was but stayed quiet.

“Don’t tell me that I actually watch this kind of stuff?”

He sat on the other end of the couch watching as you paused the tv and turned towards him.

“Well not at first but we worked out a deal, every week we watch one of my picks and one of your picks… but ugh you always choose the scariest stuff…”

“Better than unrealistic lovey dovey crap…”

“Unrealistic?? Says the one who spouts the most corniest lines 24/7”

The title screen for another episode started playing and he swiftly grabbed the remote.

“Allow me to show you what true cinema is.”

Uh oh, you had a bad feeling about this..

1 hour later

“Ah no way no way no way” Gojo smirked watching how you hid behind a pillow shaking like a leaf.

“Oh come on, it’s not even the scary part yet…”

“Liar! Ew ew ew I accidentally looked again”

“Human snake vs Octogator is a masterpiece , you’re insulting one of the greatest films of all time!”

“You just chose this because you knew it would scare me!”

“Lady I barely know you, is that something I would do?” He smiled, glowing eyes peeking behind his glasses.

“Yes, that is exactly what you would do..”

Well you sure did seem to know him he was realizing more and more…

After the movie you were basically half asleep so Gojo decided to call it a night.

Sleepily you rose up and followed after Gojo to the hallway. But instead of turning right to the guest room you automatically turned left to his room and bumped into his back.

“Huh”

You froze, eyes shooting up to his.

“A-ah s-sorry!” Embarrassed you darted to the guest room and shut the door.

BZZT BZZT BZZT

Hm?

*NEW MESSAGE*

-Since you’re all alone, use this to tide your appetite over xoxo

*image loading*

“Ah-!”

The heat rose to your cheeks immediately.

(I’ll let you imagine what kind of picture he sent lol)

-Don’t send anything back tho ok? Don’t want the creep next door spying on you and catching a glimpse of my pretty girl~”

-he’s in another room obviously..

-wait he wouldn’t look through the walls with his eyes would he??

-would- did you ever do that??

-ah gotta go baby, the line is bad, nighty night!

-We’re texting idiot, what line?! And answer the question!!

-xoxo 💋

Ugh jerk… you threw the phone on the bed then slowly got in the unfamiliar bed.

You hated sleeping alone… even when he was out on overnight missions you were surrounded by his scent, his clothes, his everything…

You grabbed a pillow and snuggled it for comfort.

“I miss you idiot…”

Part 3

***************************************************

Aaaaaaand that’s chapter 2! What did you guys think about Suguru’s mention hehe. The angst boat is coming y’all, but first came a little fluff before the storm. Please lemme know what you thought! Until next time!

@gojosatorulover7 @goaway-plzz @goldenglow149 @taakt17 @kneesheee @yumii-34 @ritsatoru @generalstephkenobi @author20 @bitchycloudstrawberry @hojoslutoru

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strangersteddierthings · 7 months

Text

No Regrets - Part One

Content Warning: mentions of main character deaths but these are temporary because this is a time travel two-to-four-shot and so, they start dead but then get better :3 Also maybe a whiplash warning? In that it starts off kind of dark for a story that's pretty light-hearted in the end.

Here's the first part of the threatened season 4 AU time travel fic where Steve gets thrown back to the moment in family video when Dustin and Max show up demanding the phones. Previously he was 5 years into a grueling apocalypse.

Part One🦇 Part Two🦇Part Three🦇Part Four🦇Part Five🦇Part Six

Steve has lived his life in regret. Replaying scenarios in his head over and over late at night when sleep eludes him. And sleep is always eluding him these days, weeks, past five years. Steve hasn't known a day without regret since the day they failed to kill Vecna, the day Max almost died. The day Eddie did.

It's five years to the day today.

Steve spends endless nights thinking about how he'd change that spring break. It was the start of the end of everything. Eddie's death wasn't world ending for Steve. It was the end of a what-if. A maybe. But for Dustin. Oh God, Dustin. Who had blamed himself for Eddie's death, who was broken and then never able to get time to recover. To grieve.

Dustin, who pulled away from everyone, from Steve, because of it.

He's not dead, Steve knows, because he still hears his voice on the radio. Separated from the group but vital to their survival. He spread intel on Demo-creature movements, where safe spaces are, news from across the broken and destroyed America, and how to survive the hellscape.

There have been losses. Terrible, tragic losses.

Murray Baughman. Lucas Sinclair. Karen and Holly Wheeler. Will Byers. And those are just the ones he knows. A lot of people scattered to the wind when Hawkins became overran with the Upside Down and its creatures.

He's still two days out on this supply run. Two more days and he'll get to know who is still around. Who they lost this time. It's not always someone they know, but the horrors never cease, and Steve's been gone a total of three weeks.

"Hey," Robin breaks him from his thoughts as she leans over to whisper in his ear, "since you're gonna daydream, you might as well actually dream. Scouts say it'll be a while before we can continue moving."

"I'm not daydreaming, I'm thinking."

"Well, be sleeping instead. You'll be more useful with some rest," Robin pats her shoulder, inviting him to lean his head against it.

"Don't use my weakness against me. You know I love being useful," Steve sighs as he drops his head onto her shoulder.

"I know. It makes you easy to manipulate," Robin teases. He can hear the smile in her voice. "Now, shut up and sleep."

Steve grumbles under his breath. No real words, just grumpy noises as he does shift and get as comfortable as he can leaned against Robin. He is tired, and with nothing else he can be doing, he won't feel too guilty about it.

He closes his eyes.

He opens his eyes, blinking rapidly at the sudden brightness of the sun shining through the glass storefront of Family Video. Usually when he dreams of the past, the sun's never this bright. It's been years since he's seen the sun at all, with the red-black sky of the Upside Down looming above them constantly.

He takes a deep breath, basking in the fresh(ish) air of Family Video. How long has it been since he's taken a breath without his mouth covered by a mask, bandana, some cloth or another? Well, he's not really breathing without a mask on, his conscious self has one on, but it still feels good to fill his lungs and release. He has half a mind to jump the counter and go outside to repeat that; see if his unconscious mind will provide a difference in the air, if it remembers enough to do so.

"Hey Steve," Dustin says as he is stepping through the doors with Max at his side. It's then that Steve takes in where the dream has started. The doors have just opened, and Steve's looking partially over his shoulder, towards the doors instead of the TV as it plays the news of Chrissy's death on the screen. The world fades back into motion, instead of the slowness the beginning of his dream started as Dustin finishes his question, "how many phones do you have?"

"Are you seeing this?" Steve asks on autopilot, playing out the scene he knows, but he holds off from stating the someone was murdered part. He's tired of saying it.

"How many phones do you have?" Dustin asks with more urgency.

Steve takes in Dustin and Max while Robin explains the phone situation. It's been so fucking long since he's seen Dustin. Since Max was able to see him. God. He can't let this play out like normal. It's not going to fix reality, he knows that logically, but what would it hurt to live out his fantasy of getting a re-do while he dreams? Wasn't that what he was thinking about while awake?

He tunes back into the conversation when Dustin shoves his backpack across the counter, and then himself. Instead of whining about the tapes, he reaches for the pen and notepad they keep close to the till. "Hey, what's this about?"

"Max, fill them in while I do this," Dustin replies.

Max turns to him and Robin, who is eyeing both Steve and Max but listening. Max explains what Steve already knows. The lights going crazy, Eddie fleeing his own home, and that it might be Upside Down related.

There's a script here. Responses he has memorized because of how often he dreams this moment over and over. An answer Steve usually gives, but this time he finds he can hold his tongue. He doesn't have to speak. Doesn't have to follow the script.

"Okay," Steve says instead. "Dustin, what's the number for the Byers now?

Surprisingly, that actually pulls Dustin from the computer. He spins on the stool to give Steve a confused look. "What? Why?"

If he's being honest with himself, he's never really had this much control over his dreams before. Having this control makes him want to do all the things he's daydreamed about. To change the choices that fill him with regret and guilt. "I want to leave a message for Jonathan," Steve lies, "or talk to him if he's home. Give him a heads up that Upside Down shit might be going on again."

Dustin narrows his eyes at Steve, suspicious, "Jonathan?"

"Yeah. Jonathan," Steve says in his bitchiest voice. "Number, dude."

He can tell Dustin doesn't fully believe the lie, but he recites the number anyway.

"Thanks," Steve says as he scoots around Robin and heads to Keith's office to use the phone there. The first thing he does is call the police station and let them know that he saw Eddie Munson at Rick Lipton's place, up by Lover's Lake on Holland Road. The lady who answered starts to ask questions, Steve just says he recognized the trailer on TV as the Munson's and hangs up. He'll swing by later once everyone else has pieced together the Rick Lipton part of this all themselves. If Eddie's still there, he'll drag him to the station himself.

'Cause the thing is, Steve has thought of many scenarios. So many. And even if nothing else changes, this is the bit that will. Eddie cannot be killed in the Upside Down if he is in a jail cell instead. And if the police do follow up on his tip, then they'll take Eddie in for questioning before Fred dies. And that's.

Well.

Steve's living through the end of the world and that changes people. It's changed Steve. Once there would have been a time when allowing someone to die, knowing it was going to happen and not stopping it, would have filled Steve with guilt, regret, maybe even some self-loathing. But Steve's made enough sacrifices for this town. Lost enough of the people he loves to be jaded. Maybe even cruel. If Fred has to die to prove that Eddie didn't do it, then that's what will happen.

His next step is to call the Byers. It surprises him that Joyce actually answers with a hesitant hello. That never happens in the dreams.

"Joyce. I mean, Ms. Byers. It's Steve. Uhh, Steve Harrington," he says.

"Oh. Hello Steve. What, uh, what can I do for you?" Joyce's voice is still hesitant.

"Listen, the Upside Down is back. Or, like, it was never gone? I don't know. But I needed to tell you."

"Oh my God," Joyce sounds horrified, and Steve can hear Murray in the background asking questions. "Are you sure?"

"Absolutely. Vec- sorry, it has already killed a girl. Max was a witness. Well, of the aftermath. But that's not important. What I need is for you to tell El that she's never been a monster and never will be. That everything has been the fault of One. And I think you should tell her Hopper is alive and you're going to rescue him."

There's not an immediate answer. A rustling sound and then faint voices he can't make out. She must be covering the phone with her hand as she and Murray talk. Or argue, knowing Murray. After a moment, Murray's voice comes through the line, "How do we know you are who you say you are?"

It's followed by Joyce shouting, "How do you know about Hopper?" and Murray quickly shushing her and some shuffling noises before Joyce says, "Okay. We're both listening."

"Look, I know you have no reason to believe me so I'll give you something that might serve as proof that I know things I shouldn't. When everyone gets back from the roller rink, be there for El. She's going to- to have a bad night, because of a girl that's been, like, bullying her at school. Then, I need you to get them headed this way tomorrow morning, because you gotta be gone then, too, but like. Be there for El tonight. There will be an incident involving a roller skate. So, if you believe me, call me back after that."

"How do we know you're who you claim to be, Steve?" Murray questions again, while Joyce says, horrified, "El's been being bullied?"

"I can't exactly prove I'm me. But call my house tonight after you've spoken to El and I'll answer. That's the best I can do. I... I don't know if Jonathan or Mike have my number, but Mike can call home and get my number from Nancy. That'll be proof, right? Or Will can get it from Dustin. Whichever."

"And how do you know about something happening tonight at the roller rink?" Joyce demands.

"I know more than I should. So, if the roller rink thing holds up, and you decide to at least hear me all the way out, call my house," Steve hangs up then, not wanting to get into a loop of explanation.

"Steve! Hurry up and come help people while I help Thing One and Thing Two!" Robin calls through the door and Steve takes a step towards the closed door to comply but he stops, hand hanging just above the doorknob. That's how the dream goes. That's what 19-year-old Steve would have done.

But that's a Steve that died five years ago, when the world ended, when the apocalypse started. Steve's not 19 anymore, though he must look it, a master of his own puppet. He's never sought himself out in a mirror when he dreams; he's too busy taking in everyone who has been lost to him in his waking life to bother with himself.

What does he want to do this time?

What does he want to do right now?

He leaves Keith's office to beeline to Dustin, pausing only to pat Robin on the shoulder. He slides around Max and comes to a stop beside Dustin.

"I already told you, I need this for-" Dustin starts to speak but cuts off with a squawk that sounds like a mixture of indignation and confusion as Steve just reaching out and bodily turns Dustin towards him. "Steve, this is important!"

"I know," Steve says and then hugs Dustin. Dustin doesn't hug back, but neither does he pull away. Steve knows he's missed Dustin, felt his loss for many years now, but holding Dustin now, feeling him solid and here feels Steve what he can only equate to grief.

Dustin lets himself be hugged for what is, undoubtedly, an awkward amount of time for him before he thumps Steve's back twice and says, "okay... You can stop now."

Steve lets go and turns to Max, who immediately puts her hands up, "No. Absolutely not."

He chuckles and steps around her. He won't force his affection on her.

Then he takes off the family video vest and sets it on the counter.

"Steve?" Robin asks.

"Sorry, Robs, I can't stay and help customers. I have some things I got to do."

"Steve, you cannot abandon me on a Saturday!"

He can't quite bring himself to feel bad for abandoning her. It is a shit thing to do but right now saving Eddie and Max from Vecna is more important. He's already wasting daylight, so instead of answering his gives her his best 'I'm so sorry' face and bolts out the door. All three of them shout after him but he doesn't slow.

He's got a list of regrets to change.

Tagging the besties and all the people that expressed interest when I posted the lil blurb about this. Sorry if I missed you!

@i-less-than-three-you @nburkhardt @afewproblems @skepsiss @music9009 @apomaro-mellow @soaringornithopter @reighnofdreams @eddie-munsons-lunchbox @sirsnacksalot @livelifeliketheresnotomorow @sageclipse @schnukiputz @mbloggotdeletedsothisismybackup @lumoschildextra @vampirestevie @alex-axolotl @juleswashere3 @yet-still-more-banched

#steddie #my fic #it's a late birthday fic to myself #not at light-hearted as I wanted #but I'm in a less light-hearted place now than when I first wanted to write this. So my mood has changed the story a bit

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noyaspeach · 8 months

Text

first light

Summary: Could this be how every day begins?

After a long and restless night with no sleep, you go looking for something to while away the hours. As it turns out, Astarion is just as much of an insomniac as you are, and the two of you spend the early morning together.

Pairing: Astarion x Gender Neutral! Reader

Word Count: 4,334

Tags: Fluff and Light Angst, Pining, Feelings Realization (Kinda?), Second Person POV, Soft Astarion, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Insomnia, Watching the Sunrise

Author's Note:

not me returning to fic-writing over 3 years later with an astarion fic of all things. i can't even guarantee i'll write another one considering i'm about to start college again, but i would sure like to!

i was heavily inspired to write this because of the release of hozier's album. it perfectly aligned with me becoming obsessed with baldur's gate 3, and astarion is just so hozier-coded, how could i not? as the title suggests, i was inspired by the song "first light" which is the last song on the album, based on dante's ascent out of hell and his first taste of light and freedom. i imagine it's how astarion must have felt when he was no longer forced to do cazador's bidding and when he could finally experience sunlight again.

obligatory disclaimers: i haven't actually played the game yet, so this fic is informed by clips i've seen online, gif sets, the baldur's gate wiki, and other fics. if any details in this aren't chronologically sound or if anything seems a little non-compliant with the canon of the game... now you know why lol.

still, i hope you enjoy it! this is also posted to ao3! read here!

///

You stare up at the ceiling of your tent, frustration rolling in your chest as you struggle to rest. Your eyes are beginning to sting with the lack of sleep, but simply closing them does nothing to help. You’ve gone through all of your belongings twice already, looking for something to ease you into slumber, but no amount of reading or alcohol seems to do the trick. It certainly doesn’t help that the weather has been oppressively humid all night, leaving you coated in a thin, sticky layer of sweat that doesn’t seem to leave you no matter how many layers you shed.

You can’t bear to lay around in the thick air of your tent, so you decide to sit out by the extinguished campfire in the hopes that it will do more to relax you.

You quietly open your tent flap and emerge into the mild morning air. It’s much cooler outside, and a light breeze tickles your arm, already doing wonders to dry your sweat. It’s still too early for daylight, so the camp is only dimly illuminated by the moonlight. With the lack of light, you listen out for the sounds of the forest around you: the chirps of insects beneath you, hooting owls in the distance, and a trickling stream not too far away. Focusing on these scarce sounds, you already feel much calmer.

After a moment of peace, you hear a rustle to your right. You whip your head toward the sound, hands ready at your weapon, when you see a familiar face emerge from the trees. You let your hands drop to your side again. It’s just Astarion. He appears to be returning to his tent, noticeably empty-handed. You wonder what he’s up to this early in the morning, and he seems to be wondering the same thing, eyeing you with an inquisitive raise of the eyebrow.

“Restless sleeper, are we?” He remarks.

“Something like that,” you reply. “Just needed some fresh air.”

You notice that Astarion is still in his sleepwear, the sleeves of his white undershirt pushed up above his elbows. “And what are you doing out?”

“Oh, you know. Searching for a midnight snack, so to speak.” He gestures to the woods behind him. “Unfortunately, there isn’t a very fine selection tonight.”

You grimace at the thought of Astarion catching an innocent woodland creature between his teeth. It’s a less-than-flattering image, one that’s informed by the memory of the boar he drained a while back, and one that you’re eager to dismiss.

“Is that all you’ve been up to?” You ask.

“Why? Were you getting lonely without me?” He teases. You can only roll your eyes in response. When he doesn’t receive a retort, Astarion sighs and continues. “Right, if you want an honest answer, I was going for a stroll to pass the time.”

You tilt your head to the side. “Wandering about on your own while everyone’s asleep isn’t a very good idea. If something happens out there, none of us will be able to save you”

“Trust me, darling, I can hold my own just fine. But I appreciate you worrying about my safety. It’s almost touching.” He smirks. “I would appreciate it even more if you would refrain from telling the others about my… routine here. I don’t exactly want the company.”

“Routine? How long have you been taking these walks?”

“Since the day I joined you all, I would say.” Astarion’s eyes move to the entrance of his own tent. “I haven’t been able to get much sleep myself, and I figure there isn’t much use laying on my bedroll if I’m not resting or satisfying… other needs. So, I walk. And occasionally feed.”

You search Astarion’s face for any sign of deception, but he’s being surprisingly truthful, if a little bashful. You resonate with his sleeplessness, being something of an insomniac yourself. Despite the immense toll your travels have taken on your body, you can’t seem to rest very easily at all, especially when you need it the most. Whether it’s the vivid memories of past battles replaying in your dreams, the smothering climate of whatever campsite you’ve picked out that night, or the relentless wriggling of the tadpole in your head, there’s always something keeping you up.

“I’m surprised I haven’t caught you earlier, then,” you say. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone.”

“Thank you,” says Astarion. He smiles, and it seems he means it too. “Well, seeing as neither one of us will be getting to bed anytime soon, would you care to join me?”

You cross your arms. “I thought you would have preferred to be alone.”

“Misery loves company and all. I think I can make an exception for a fellow night owl,” he drawls.

You agree to walk with him then and quietly head in the opposite direction of both tents. You’re sure to bring your weapon with you in the off chance that something—or someone—attacks the two of you. A very small part of you still garners some suspicion for Astarion himself, especially considering that night in which he tried to feed from you while you slept. Perhaps that’s another factor in your insomnia; although you let Astarion drink his fill that night, you can’t be entirely sure he won’t try it again. That he won’t succeed in creeping up on you and draining you completely.

You shiver at the thought, but pass it off as a cold chill from the wind. As the two of you slowly move from the campsite, your surroundings become even quieter. The chirping insects from before are silent now, and the nearby stream is barely a whisper. You can hardly hear either of your footsteps. It’s at once peaceful and unsettling.

After a few short minutes, you’re the first to break the silence. “What do you usually do when you’re out here?”

Astarion thinks for a moment, and hums. “Hmm. Aside from hunting, I suppose I just sit with my thoughts. There isn’t much else to do, is there?”

You nod, but somehow you don’t think being left with one’s own thoughts is particularly relaxing for anyone in your party. You can’t imagine it’s any good for Astarion, especially.

“And what do you think about?”

“So much,” he says. “Plans, mostly. Where our next destination is, where I’ll find my next meal, what I’ll do when we reach Baldur’s Gate, how to get rid of this wretched parasite…”

“Do you ever think about your past?”

Astarion’s gaze is a bit distant until you ask that. He slows his pace and turns to you, looking unusually serious. “I prefer not to.”

He leaves it at that, so you decide not to push further. You only know a little about Astarion’s life before the tadpole entered his mind. You know he’s the spawn of an even more powerful vampire, a master to whom he was a slave for nearly 200 years, and you know he’s lived in the shadows up until now. It isn’t lost on you that this entire adventure is his first taste of freedom in centuries. You understand why he would rather focus on the future. Still, your nagging curiosity makes you desperate for more information about him.

“What about you, my dear?” He returns to his more amused attitude. “What do you do in that tent of yours to pass the time until the morning comes? Don’t tell me if it’s anything naughty… Actually, do.”

You shake your head and suppress a smile as he actually almost earns a laugh from you. “Nothing like that. I normally just try to distract myself until I can hopefully fall back asleep. Read something, sort my wares, hum a tune. Anything to relax.”

“I take it that hasn’t been working for you?”

“No. Not one bit. I’m actually kind of worried it might start affecting my performance from now on. Unlike some of the elves in this team, I actually need quite a lot of rest.”

“A true shame,” he tuts. “Although it is a double-edged sword. On the one hand, I don’t need to sleep for very long. On the other, I can’t sleep for very long. Sometimes I do wish I could simply let the whole day pass while I doze off. That would be much easier than just waiting it out.”

You hadn’t considered this. While the rest of your traveling companions are able to sleep through the night, Astarion has no choice but to wait for everyone to wake up around sunrise. All he can do is hope to get a few hours of rest before sitting through the unnerving silence of the night, the only unique sounds being the faint snores and mumbles that float from the other tents. You and he are alike in this struggle, but you at least are lucky enough to have a few nights when your exhaustion is bad enough to force you to bed.

“Well, taking a stroll like this is a good idea,” you finally say. “Thank you for inviting me along.”

A small smile tugs at the corner of Astarion’s lips. “Thank you for joining me. I will admit, it’s easier to pass the time with a… friend… by my side.”

Your heart swells at that word: “friend.” It’s a welcome upgrade from whatever you two might have been considered before.

A few minutes pass with the both of you chatting politely. As you walk, you make note of your surroundings to ensure that you don’t stray too far from camp or encounter any traps. This occupies your mind for a while, but Astarion seems to be running out of topics to discuss. Not wanting him to abandon your little trip just yet, you try to think of something to entertain him. Looking out at the forest and the sky in front of you, you notice that the moon has begun its descent into the trees, meaning morning is almost upon you two. This gives you an idea.

You stop and pivot to face Astarion. He stops too, surprised at your sudden pause.

“What is it?” He asks.

"Would you like to watch the sunrise with me?”

He’s taken aback only momentarily before he adopts his familiar flirtatious demeanor. “Trying to turn this into a romantic tryst, are you? If you want something more, you’ll have to be a little more direct than that.”

You shake your head. “No, I don’t mean anything by it. I want to know if you’ll sit and watch the sun come up with me. That’s all. It should be rising soon enough. It’s almost morning.”

He seems puzzled, his brows tightening and eyes scanning your face for any indication that you may be holding something back. When he doesn’t find anything, he settles back into an easy expression. “I seem to have misjudged. My apologies… Yes, I wouldn’t mind sitting with you.”

“Great.” You smile and begin to walk again. “I heard some water earlier, so I think there may be a stream near here. Maybe it’ll make for a nice spot.”

Astarion follows as you lead him closer to the sound of running water, and the two of you shortly come upon the stream. It’s a small, shallow brook that separates the woods from which you emerge and another expanse of trees on the other side. Right along the edge of the water is a line of smooth rocks big enough to sit on. It’s the perfect place to set up, you think.

The two of you find purchase on the edge of the rocks, feet just barely dangling off the side, hovering above the calmly flowing water. The rocks aren’t terribly big, so the two of you sit side-by-side, your knees close enough to touch. Across the brook, the trees begin to thin out, leaving a clear view of the horizon. You estimate that the sun will start its ascent in the next few minutes, but for now, the scene in front of you remains thinly bathed in moonlight.

In the quiet of the dawn, the moon casts its silvery glow on the world beneath it. Every blade of grass, every dewy flower, every mossy stone radiates with a hazy blue hue. The stream beneath you reflects this onto both of your faces, and you give a sideways glance to your companion next to you. You watch as the light dances across his cheeks, admiring how it shines in his curls, how it glistens in his deep red eyes, and how it collects in the space just above his lips. You inhale and the earthy scent of the forest mixes with the smell of Astarion’s perfume in your nose. As you do so, you realize now just how close in proximity you are to him. You’re close enough to trace his silhouette from the slope of his nose to his slender neck with your fingers if you so choose. You glimpse at the puncture marks just below his jaw and remember once more the night you let him drink from you. You remember the moment you awoke in terror before you realized who was crouched above you. You remember the uncertainty you felt as you gave him permission to continue, not sure whether it was a wise decision or not. You remember the sharp sting of his teeth entering your skin and the almost exhilarating dizziness that followed as he coaxed your blood out with his tongue. The rest of that moment is a blur to you, but you can still distinctly recall how he cradled your head with one hand, the other gently ghosting down your spine. For almost a full day after that night, the smell of bergamot and rosemary lingered on your neck.

“You do know staring is rude, don’t you, darling?” Astarion says. “Not that I particularly mind.” He leans back on his arms and turns to face you. “Not when it’s you.”

Your cheeks flush in spite of the cool temperature. You wonder when it was you became so vulnerable to Astarion’s flirting. Even though you have, you try not to entertain it. After all, you suspect his charming behavior is at least partly a ruse.

“Sorry,” you mutter and look back at the horizon. “It’s very pretty out. It’ll be even prettier in just a few more minutes, too. We’re in the perfect spot to watch the sun come up.”

“Is that so?” Astarion tilts his head as he continues to behold you. “You know, I’ve never watched the sunrise like this.”

You twist to look at him again, utterly shocked. “Seriously? Not once?”

He shakes his head.

“How come?”

He sighs. “I’m sure I must have before… everything. But I can’t seem to remember anything from back then. I lost most of my memories when I was brought back, save for a few of the important details. I suppose sunrises weren’t important enough to stick.” He frowns and stares out at a canopy of trees in the distance. “Then, as you know, it would have been incredibly stupid for me to be out in the light with this condition of mine. So, I never tried. I didn’t have very many opportunities to do so, in any case.”

Your brow furrows, but you don’t say anything. Instead, you let Astarion continue at his own pace.

“...I spent decades in my master’s lair, a- a dungeon, really. I was trapped in the darkness. The only time I was allowed out was when he needed fresh, new bodies, and even then it was always under the cover of night. For the longest time, that was all that I knew. In a way, it’s what I’m still used to…”

Suddenly his sleeplessness makes all the more sense to you.

“I know I’m free from that now, what with the tadpole and all, but…” He trails off. You understand.

After several beats of silence, you clear your throat.

“Once, when I was a child, I went playing in the woods with some of the other children in the village. There were maybe six of us in total? I don’t exactly remember. But we marched all the way from the market to the forest pretending we were a band of heroes. I was at the back of the line, right behind this boy that I really liked. I put myself there on purpose so that I could smile and blush as much as I wanted without him seeing me.”

“How cute,” Astarion comments with a quirked eyebrow.

“Yeah. I mean, I thought I was being clever, but it was pretty silly, wasn’t it? Anyways, when we entered the woods, we decided to split off into teams to see who could find the most ‘treasure.’ We just plucked up sticks, flowers, beetles, pinecones, that kind of stuff. I was paired with the boy I liked, and I was so giddy about it. I wanted to show him just how cool I was, so I climbed up every tree and jumped off every rock. Just hearing him laugh and clap for me was enough for me to keep going. So, I did. Before we knew it, we realized we had strayed too far from the rest of the group. We tried to call out to them but heard nothing in return. We were lost.”

You pause your story to get a brief look at Astarion. You half-expect him to be bored by this point, but you’re surprised to see that he’s giving you his full attention. He waves his hand, signaling for you to continue.

“We started playing late into the evening, so by the time we realized that we had no clue where we were, the sun had already begun to set. I remember cursing myself for wishing I could have some alone time with this boy because that wasn’t at all what I had had in mind. But, alas, that was the situation I was stuck in. When it reached midnight and we still hadn’t made our way back to the village, I started panicking. You should know that I used to be deathly afraid of the forest at night. I was terrified of what kind of creatures could be hiding, waiting to snatch me up and eat me alive.”

“Hmm, like vampires?” Astarion teases.

You smirk. “Precisely. You’ll remember, though, that I was stuck with the boy I liked. So, there was no way I could show that I was scared. I couldn’t display any sign of weakness or else he might not think I was as cool as I let off. Knowing this, I put on a brave face and silently begged the gods for some protection before I assembled a makeshift camp for the two of us. It was, admittedly, very shitty, but it did its job of giving us some shelter for the night. I told him he could sleep and that I would keep watch, and so I did. I didn’t sleep very much back then, either, now that I think about it. I guess not a lot has changed about me… But I digress. I stayed up the whole night, sitting outside our little fort, listening to him snore and talk in his sleep. I don’t think I could have left his side if I wanted to, considering how petrified I was. But I powered through the fear, for his sake. I was so young, but I cared about this boy so much that I felt I owed it to him to make sure he was safe.”

“You were quite the hero, even back then,” Astarion says gently. “Is this little story your way of telling me to be more selfless?”

“Not at all. I’m getting to the point, I promise. I sat there for hours as I waited for it to become day again. Eventually, I was able to focus on the more beautiful parts of the night: the moon, the stars, the lightning bugs, the sweet whisper of the wind through the leaves. The more I searched for the good in my situation, the less scared I became, until I was no longer scared at all. By the time dawn rolled around, I was at peace, actually. I was so proud of myself for making it through the night, I immediately woke the boy up to share the moment with him. Then, we sat together, kind of like this,” You gesture to your and Astarion’s seating position, “and just watched the sunrise in perfect silence. I had never watched the sunrise before. It was so nice, getting to quietly enjoy such a wonderful view with someone I loved.”

As you finish your story, you face Astarion once more. His gaze is soft as he listens to you speak, and the tender curl of his lips betrays a sincere gratitude for having shared this with him.

“Did anything ever happen between you and that boy?” He asks.

“Sadly, no. He eventually fell for some other girl in town. Last I heard, they had three kids together.”

“Hmm.” Astarion angles his chin away from you. “Well, that’s his loss.”

You look away, too, and smile to yourself.

Suddenly, the sky begins to transform before your eyes. The first gleams of sunlight begin to caress the horizon as the moon takes its final bow behind you. The forest, still coated with all the glimmering remnants of morning dew, stirs from its slumber under the streams of the emerging sun. As the sun slowly rises, its warm embrace spreads like honey between the trees, flooding the forest floor with rays of pink and amber. Shafts of light pierce through the lush foliage, creating scintillating patterns on the surface of the water that seem to dance at the promise of a new day. Finally, when the sun peers at you from above the treetops, it’s as if the sky erupts. A burst of brilliance envelopes the world below it in its welcoming embrace, casting everything in a blazing golden light.

You begin to say something to Astarion but stop when you see his face. He looks positively radiant. His face glows in the daylight, appearing even more magnificent than he did in the moon’s silver beams. His face and his hair are colored by the sun, making him look more alive than he ever has before. Every detail from the strands in his eyebrows to the smallest of moles is illuminated before you. You watch as his eyes glisten before softly fluttering closed. He breathes deeply, his chest slowly rising and falling, and he basks in the sunlight. He relaxes completely, letting the sun’s rays melt away any and all tension he may have been holding on to.

You want nothing more than to cup his face in your hands, then, and feel the newly imbued warmth of his skin as you press your lips to his. Instead, however, you carefully place your hand on top of his. His eyes blink open and he turns to look at you once more. You hesitate for a moment, ready to move away, but he doesn’t reject you. His eyes crinkle with appreciation and he laces your fingers together before gently stroking his thumb against the side of your hand. His skin is still a bit cold, but thanks to you, it quickly warms up.

The two of you sit there in tranquility, taking in all of the sights, sounds, and feelings of the early morning. Time seems to slow, then, as if the universe itself also wishes to savor this serene moment for just a little while longer.

Soon, you hear the distant sound of casual conversation as the others awaken for yet another day of arduous traveling. You sigh, knowing that the two of you will have to return to camp shortly and leave all of this behind. You don’t want to let go just yet.

“We should probably get back,” Astarion says first. “I wouldn’t want the others to think that I killed you and scurried off or something like that.”

“Yeah, that wouldn’t be very good for morale,” you joke. After a moment, you reluctantly untwine your fingers and push yourself up off the rocks. You extend a hand to Astarion to help him up, which he graciously accepts.

Neither of you moves at first until Astarion takes a step toward you. Standing so close to you, you wonder if he’s about to kiss you when he gingerly takes hold of your hands. He gives you that sincere smile again.

“Thank you again for this. It was… nice.” You almost can’t believe how vulnerable he seems right now, eyes staring into yours with no hint of false pretenses. “I’d like to do this again with you, if you’ll join me.”

“I would love to.”

“Wonderful,” he says. He lets go of you. “Shall we then?”

The two of you take your time walking back to the campsite, talking idly about what the next few days have in store. When you arrive, Karlach is the first to notice you.

“There you two are! We were beginning to worry.” She looks between you both and crosses her arms, narrowing her eyes mischievously. “Anything we should know about your disappearance?”

You chuckle. “Nothing that would excite you, Karlach.”

You walk past her and approach your tent. The rest of your team is already getting to work cleaning their weapons, armor, and other equipment, preparing to hunt, or strategizing together. Before you duck inside to retrieve your clothes for washing, you turn back and lock eyes with Astarion. He’s entered a conversation between Shadowheart and Gale, but he isn’t all that engaged. He shoots you a knowing look and another small smile which you return in kind.

As you wash your clothes in the river just south of the camp, you think fondly of the promise you’ve now made with Astarion and the many sunrises to come. Suddenly, insomnia doesn’t seem so bad.

#astarion #astarion bg3 #astarion baldur's gate #baldur's gate #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 fic #astarion fic #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion x you #i want to give astarion so much love pls

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bunnyreaper · 3 months

Text

plush

pairing: soap mactavish x f!reader wc: 1.5k warnings: 18+/nsfw, slight plushiephilia (?), magical fuckery, instalove vibes, shitty ex notes: an unofficial entry to my own valentines writing challenge, for my beloved aj/@kitkatscabinet <3 its short and a bit shit, but its the thought that counts, right? peep my amazing tumblr style valentines day card here!!

You remember the day you got him vividly, recalling every detail like it was yesterday, and not necessarily for the better.

It was the first Valentine's day you were to have with your now ex-boyfriend, an occasion you'd been looking forward to for months. He wasn't the most romantic man in the world, but he knew how important the day was for you, knew how you dreamed of just having one day where you were spoiled rotten and doted on like a princess.

The day of, the man had forgotten.

All the build up, anticipation, and excitement for nothing. He'd told you the morning off that he was off to work, with no real acknowledgement of the day or the significance it held for you.

You had been entirely crushed, only somewhat soothed when he came home with an oversized, fluffy teddy, just for you.

Despite the gift being mostly an afterthought—the receipt still in the bag told you he'd gone to the store on his lunch break—the bear was just so enchanting, so soft and cuddly that when you had it squeezed in your arms, you couldn't bring yourself to care about much else in the world.

That night, it was your plushie you had curled up with in your arms, your face snuggled into his brown-grey fur. That night, you'd drifted off to sleep, selfishly thinking of what it would be like to fall asleep in the arms of someone who made you feel as safe as your new fluffy friend.

This year, you were determined for things to be different. Despite still reeling from your breakup, you resolved to make the day exactly what you'd always dreamed of,even if you were alone.

So you started the day with a bit of pampering, climbing into sexy lingerie underneath a fresh, oversized shirt and barely-there shorts. You glammed yourself up just a little and spent the day at home surrounded by lit candles, heart-shaped balloons and the scent of freshly-baked cookies.

When the night grew dark, you tucked up into bed to watch more movies until late, spending the entire time snuggled up with your precious plushie. It was normal for you to whisper sweet nothings to the wolf pup before bed, to throw out your usual movie discussion to him, and tonight was no different.

You drift off with ease, feeling a sense of peace you haven't felt in a long time.

When your eyes flutter back open, you expect to see your vision obscured by fur and your room filled with light. You don't expect to see a pair of sparkling blue eyes twinkling in the dark, a pair of blue eyes you're all too familiar with.

"I'm still dreaming." You whisper in complete disbelief, yet the longer you look into the not-so-stranger's eyes, you find yourself not even believing those words. It's not a dream, he's real, and he's here.

Your eyes rove over him and his handsome, masculine features, you take in the warmth that radiates off of him.

"No dreams here, bonnie girl." His smile is wolfish, just like his plushie counterpart—full of mischief and mirth. "Couldnae stand seeing you so sad. It's our day."

His grip on you tightens, pulling you deeper into his chest for you to cuddle close—to feel at home.

"Our day." You mumble, mostly to yourself, as you tangle yourself within him until you become one. You press your forehead against his, eyes fluttering shut as you embrace every euphoric feeling flowing through you.

The safety you felt when hugging him as a plushie is multiplied, as now he grips at your flesh and his breath brushes across your lips.

He chuckles, a sweet sound you'd imagined a million times before. "Dinnae tell me you forgot when we first met." He teases.

Valentine's day, that Valentine's day—when he'd been the only thing that made you smile. It's hard to comprehend that this time last year you were muffling your tears in his plush body, and now you're smiling so unstoppably in his embrace.

"Of course I didn't." You whisper.

You feel his fingers brush over your curves as he eagerly takes you in, too. Unbeknownst to you, he's been aching for this moment since he first set his eyes on you—biding his time trapped inside the plush, until his love was strong enough to break him free of the curse that held him there.

He'd watched in anger as you were mistreated, frustration as he witnessed your ex's attempts to please you between the sheets, and sadness as he watched you mend your broken heart.

Unbridled energy thrums through him, a combination of returning to his human form and the overwhelming feeling of finally getting the woman he's loved from afar all this time. "Been waiting so long to finally have ye in ma arms."

You bring your hand up to stroke at his stubbled cheek, as you try to ground yourself in the reality of the situation. You don't know how, but somehow all your fantasies had come true. "You're real."

"Am real, lass, and am all yours." He swears solemnly. Neither of you know how long you have, but you know that no matter what, his words are the truth. "Can I kiss ye?"

"Please." You whisper, before eagerly closing the gap between you, unable to wait even a moment longer.

The second your lips touch, something in your heart feels like it slots right into place, and a sense of alignment washes over you, unlike anything you've felt before. This kind of peace is something you never felt with your ex, and barely seems real at all.

Your lips continue to melt into his as he kisses you with fervour, equally hungry and sensual, deeply passionate and full of pent-up longing.

You pull away, breathless, head spinning with lust and affection, as well as a lingering sense of confusion. It's obvious that he's actually in your arms, and you're not imagining it, but it's so wonderfully beyond your comprehension.

"But how--" You start, before cutting yourself off. Too many questions, not enough time.

"Conversation for another time." You both say in sync, rushing to return to each other's lips as you pour your love into each other.

His kisses move from your lips to your soft cheeks, the curve of your jaw, the expanse of your neck. He nuzzles against you, nips with his teeth, then soothes them with kisses. You can feel his unrestrained smile against your skin, the eagerness in the way he grips at your hip and ruts into your clothed core with his hardness. "You feel better than I imagined."

As his erection nudges against your clit, a shaky exhale passes your lips, a name uttered purely on instinct after a year of it tumbling around your head. "Johnny..."

Something surges through him then, Johnny, something animalistic, as he rolls you beneath him and cages you between his arms. His hips slot against yours insistently, his eyes battle between darkening with arousal and sparkling in delight. "You know ma name." He almost growls.

"I don't know how, but I do."

His hands claw at your shirt, pushing it up your body to reveal the lace underneath. You hadn't worn it for him intentionally, but it also seems like the fates had called to you to put it on this morning, to be ready for this moment.

He purrs, hungry like a true wolf, as he paws at the delicate material. "Need you, lass, cannae take it anymore."

You push your hips into his, chasing more and more contact, more of the pleasure he so easily gives you. "Me either. Can't wait, please."

For a moment, your mind flickers to your ex, how even on the rare occasions he tried to warm you up, he'd still struggle to make you feel much at all. With just a few kisses, and the feeling of his body against you, Johnny has you gushing, leaking down your thighs and aching with need.

Thick fingers make their way across your delicate skin, leaving shivers in their wake. He pulls back enough to rid you of your panties, before his fingers find your sweet spot and start working on melting you beneath his touch. It was easy for Johnny, having seen the way you'd touched yourself so many times before.

Whilst the sensation feels heavenly, and Johnny's eyes remain focused on yours as he drives you wild. You need more; you need him.

"Please." You whine, unable to summon much more in the way of words as his fingers dip down to tease at your entrance.

Johnny fumbles with his clothes quickly, and sinks into you with an animalistic growl as his thick cock stretches you open in the most divine way.

"Feels like home." He purrs, as he lays his muscular body over you and cages you in between the mattress and his cock. Once more, he nuzzles at your neck, as his cock kisses your insides and you adjust to the feeling of him inside you.

You wrap your arms and legs around him instinctually, willing him closer and closer in to you, entwining yourselves completely.

His hips remain still inside you, as the two of you embrace the feeling of finally being where you belong. He kisses you gently as he whispers, "All mine. Never letting ye go now."

#soap mactavish x reader #john soap mactavish x reader #soap x reader #john mactavish x reader #john soap mactavish #soap mactavish #bunny writes #call of duty x reader #call of duty fanfiction #be my valentine

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polakina · 11 months

Text

dipped in honey

pairing: marc spector x reader

rating: explicit

outline: after months of being apart, a familiar face shows up at your apartment, in need of help and full of apologies.

warnings: smut, fluff, fingering, rough sex, pet names, hair pulling, spanking, marking, dirty talk, teasing, voice kink

requests are open! hope you enjoy, petals <3

masterlist

Months. It had been months since you had seen his face. You had awoken to find him not where he should be. Not in your shared bed. His clothes, his bags, all gone. It was as though he disappeared. At first you suspected you had done something wrong, but the two of you had been married for long enough to be completely open with one another. It couldn’t be you. It had to be something else, surely. But at the moment, it felt as though you’d never find out. Marc hadn’t responded to your calls, texts, even your fucking emails. No word from him, no letter, none of his contacts knew where he was either.

Fuck.

Marc did stupid shit. But never this stupid. He never took off like this out of nowhere. Especially without you. You’d worked together as a unit, bounced ideas off one another, told each other everything. So why the fuck did he just up and leave so suddenly? It didn’t make any sense. You tried not to let it get to you, but even after months of him not contacting you or letting you know that he was even alive, he still lived in your mind at every waking moment. Even when you weren’t awake, the fucker would be in your dreams.

For years the two of you had been working together in Egypt, searching for that damned scarab. Long restless nights spent hunched over documents, researching the area, not even having time for one another. Hell, you hadn’t actually fucked in a few weeks prior to him leaving, too busy on searching. Not that it was all that comfortable to fuck in Egypt, it was too hot and the two of you would get too sweaty. That’s when you resorted to the shower. It was truly a god send. No. You weren’t going to think about it. About him. He left, without a trace. You still loved him, you couldn’t deny that, but as soon as you saw him again you were going to be so pissed with him.

Making your way down the streets of the city you were posted up in, you breathed in the cool air. It was dark now, after your time exploring the city, you’d lost track of time and not even noticed the twinkly stars coating the night sky until you were back outside. Marc often did say you had no concept of time. It was the main reason he blamed your showers lasting so long. Not that it made you speed up your showers, but he didn’t care. You pulled out the keys to your apartment just outside the site where you and- where you were digging. Unlocking the door, you stepped inside, double checking to lock it again behind you. Always be cautious. That’s what Marc often told you.

Having the aircon blasting was your first port of call, needing to feel the cool air hit your skin after a whole day of being out in the blaring sun. You felt sticky, your clothes practically latched onto your skin, the stray hairs that had fallen from where you had tied it out of your face now stuck to the base of your neck. You felt gross, to say the least. Nothing a cold shower wouldn’t fix. Stepping around your half packed bags, you made your way to the bathroom, catching a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. Your face was covered in a thin sheen, the sweat glistening on your forehead prominently. You would call it disgusting. Marc would have called you shiny.

With the cold water running in the background, you collected some fresh, clean clothes from the dresser; a simple tank top and shorts was the only thing bearable to be in during this heat. Marc would say “being naked is the only logical option”. Only twice had he talked you into following his ‘logic’. But right now it was a tempting thought. You pulled the bed sheet over your mattress to make it seem a little tidier before making your way back to the bathroom.

It felt good. The water running over your bare skin, falling to the tiled floor below with quiet droplet echoes. It washed away the grossness of the day, sweat gliding down the drain, never to be seen again. Rinsing your hair of conditioner, you just stood in the water for a few minutes. The droplets ran down your face, over the curve in your nose and the dips in your cheeks, down your neck to the floor. You couldn’t help but think back to one of the last nights Marc was here. The way you felt while he was there. You were both in the shower that night, only you had planned to shower at the time, but Marc of course, decided that wasn’t an option. Even after being married for so long, he still got excited when he saw you naked.

You remembered how he could barely keep his hands to himself that night. The second he was behind you in the shower, his hands were on you, touching you. The memory of his hands ghosting over your skin, up your stomach to your breasts and then back down again, it was burned into your memory. His breath felt warm on your neck, the stubble on his face scratching at your cheek. His words were like drugs dipped in honey when they reached your ears, his husky Chicago accent making your insides all fuzzy. He always knew what to say to make you want him more. He always knew where to touch you to make you just that much more responsive. He proved that very well that night. His fingers worked deftly on your body, dipping in and out of you to make you moan his name so prettily for him. His lips found their way to your neck, the most sensitive part of you he could reach that he knew would make you keen into his touch more. The praises he mumbled truly worked wonders on you, each word making you wetter by the second, more needy for him. He revelled in it, the way you were just so malleable for his hands.

After years of learning your body inside and out, it was pretty easy for him to make you feel the most pleasure in just a matter of minutes. Somehow he always made you feel just a little bit more every time he fucked you. He never half assed his efforts either. He could be exhausted or pissed off, but no matter which it was, he would always have that lustful glint in his eye. He would always fuck you so good you wouldn’t be able to walk the next day. Then he would laugh at you as you tried to make your way to the dig site in a straight line.

Your mind wandered to those thoughts, your hand wandered elsewhere. Thankfully, the water drowned out most of the pathetic whines you made, nothing in comparison to when Marc was in this shower with you.

Eventually you left the shower, towel wrapped around your body, hair still dripping. But you knew it would dry soon, in about five minutes stood out on your balcony your hair would be completely bone dry. Redressing in clean clothes, you grabbed some water and headed for the balcony to look out on the pyramids. It was a peaceful sight, to just listen to the crickets and watch the night unfold. You often found yourself out here most nights, sat on one of the chairs with a cup of coffee while just listening to the city go about its business. Peaceful. But too quiet.

It turned past midnight before you went back inside to take yourself to bed. But fate seemed to have different ideas. The door of your apartment was rapped on three times. Your brows furrowed, not expecting anyone to come by any time soon. Or at all, in fact. Cautiously you made your way over to the door, knowing you may not see a friendly face on the other side. But you were surprised to see a familiar one there instead. Through the small, few inches slit that you had opened the door, he was stood there waiting.

“Evening, darling,” he breathed out with that smile you loved so much. No. You were mad at him.

“That’s it? That’s all you say after, what…three months?” You knew you were going to let him into the room…you were just waiting it out a little first. Marc breathed out sharply through his nose, leaning against the doorframe with one hand, an unrecognisable look on his face. “No explanation as to where you’ve been? Nothing? You’re an ass, Marc. You left me here in Egypt for three fucking months with no indication or note of why you left.”

“I know, I know, darling.” He sounded sincere, and weirdly…pained? Actually, looking at him you saw his face contort slightly if he moved a certain way. “I shouldn’t have left so sudden-”

“Are you hurt?”

“Huh?”

“Are. You. Hurt?” You raked over him with your eyes, keeping a watchful lookout for any blood or injuries. He kept his hand on his side, which you noticed from the second he opened the door. “Why are you holding your side like that?”

He stood straighter, tightening his hold on his body. “I’m not…holding it like anything. This is-this is how I stand.” He tried to stand straight, but his right side was still slightly favoured to lean on.

“Oh, you just always stand like you’ve got something up your ass?” You asked cockily, raising an eyebrow as he tried to play off your comment as a joke.

“Come on, you promised you wouldn’t mention anything about shit up my ass after the last time we tried that. I’m still sensitive about that experience.” His eyes flashed back to that night. As much as he denied it, he did enjoy it. But he’d never tell you that, for fear you might want to try it again.

“Move your hand then,” you told him, no room for any nice tone in your voice. You weren’t playing around, he could tell. So he did. Moving his hand slightly, you could see a small red stain on his white shirt. Your eyes blew wide as you opened the door the rest of the way. “Holy shit, Marc. The fuck did you get yourself into?” Your hand instinctively reached for his shirt, but Marc’s hand caught yours quicker.

“It’s fine, okay? It’s an old wound, I just haven’t changed the shirt yet. See?” Marc lifted his shirt gently to reveal a recently formed scar, about four inches long. The cut looked pretty clean, probably caused by a knife or something. There were stitches to keep it together, but after his hectic travelling during the day to get back to you, droplets of blood had started to seep through.

“Fuck, Marc. What the hell has gotten into you? First you leave without saying anything and then you come back with a fucking scar? It’s like I don’t even know you anymore.” He had hurt you, but you couldn’t help but want to pull him into the apartment. Soon your heart won over your head and you grabbed his arm to yank him inside. “Sit down.” You pointed to the dining chair across the room. He knew that tone. He didn’t mess with that tone. So he obliged, seating himself on the chair, wincing a little as he did.

You didn’t hate him…you couldn’t allow yourself to hate him. But you could certainly act like it until you were less mad at him. So you silently made your way around the kitchen to collect a first aid kit and fresh rags to clean and redress the wound. Nothing was said as you made him strip from his shirt so you could get to work on his injury. He didn’t want to break the silence and piss you off further, so he leant back, watching you as you cleaned the scar and covered it with fresh gauze and bandages. The blazing heat had darkened your skin, tanning it to the point where lines on your skin where it was lighter could be seen clearly, marked by the clothes you had worn in the day. There were worry lines grooved into your face, around your eyes and across your forehead. Marc couldn’t help but curse himself at the thought that he was probably the reason that they were even there at all.

He was so in his head that he hadn’t even noticed you finish up and move to leave the dining table. Without thinking, he grabbed your wrist gently before you could walk away. His hold wasn’t firm, you could easily have pulled away if you wanted. He wouldn’t have stopped you. But you didn’t, you let his hand wrap around your wrist with his soft and gentle touch.

“Can we talk? Please? About everything. I need to apologise to you properly,” Marc practically begged you, you could hear the crack in his voice as he pleaded, the volume at which he spoke barely surpassed a whisper, however. It was as though he was worried if he spoke to loud to you, it would scare you off and you wouldn’t talk to him at all. But you stayed. You wanted, no, you needed to hear what he had to say.

“Why did you leave me?” Your voice at the same level as his. Practically a whisper, but the words ran clear as day as they entered Marc’s ears.

“I didn’t want to put you in danger,” Marc said, slowly, timidly. “If I’d have brought you with me, it could have been you that got hurt instead of me. I couldn’t risk letting that happen. I came back as soon as I was done, hoping you would still be here.” Of course you would still be here, you wouldn’t leave this place if you had even the smallest inkling that he would come back.

Gently, Marc pulled you into him, spreading his thighs for you to stand in between. His hands moved down your waist to your hips, his palms burning into your skin. “I’m sorry, darling. I really am.” His accent made his voice husky, and you couldn’t deny how it made you feel inside. You tried to remain unbothered by his words and the accent that came with it, but it was difficult. It was always difficult.

“You’re really sorry?” You asked, placing your hands on his stomach and leaning into his touch a little more. He nodded, looking up at you with doe eyes, fingertips drawing circles into your skin, dipping under the waistband of your pants.

“I am,” he replied, voice dripping with sincerity…and something else you couldn’t quite put your finger on. He pressed a soft kiss to your stomach just next to your bellybutton before pulling the waistband of your shorts down with his thumb just a little to press another kiss to the sensitive skin there. “Let me show you how sorry I am. Please, baby?”

You couldn’t deny him. You didn’t want to deny him. His whiny voice, his doe eyes. You wanted him just as much as he wanted you right now. Shit could be discussed later. Right now you had more important matters to attend to.

“Yes. Please, Marc. Show me.”

His lips started below your bellybutton, trailing painfully slowly upwards. Your eyes fluttered shut as you revelled in his touch. He moved upwards, pushing your loose fitting shirt up to gain more access to your body. His kisses were addictive, you just wanted more and more with every kiss inflicted upon your body, needing it, craving more from him.

Marc needed you. He needed you now. Needed to prove to you how much he missed you, how much he regretted leaving you. He started by lifting you off the ground, standing himself so he could lift you into his arms. You gasped at the change of position, chasing his lips with your own as you got comfortable in his sturdy arms. His lips found yours instantly, gliding against your own perfectly, like two pieces of a puzzle. Your legs wrapped around his waist, nestling yourself there with your ankles overlapping to keep yourself close to him. You could already feel a tingling feeling in your lower stomach, building and raging more violently as he walked the two of you over to the bed. Only he could make you feel like this, desperate and needy for him without touching you where you wanted him most.

He loved it. The power he held over you, how he could make you so wet and pliant with just a few kisses and words of praise. Knowing your body like the back of his hand was a gift only he could and ever would possess. So he intended to take full advantage of that.

Leaning down over the bed, he set you down on the soft mattress from where you had spent many previous nights there, writhing and entangled in the sheets, sweat glistening on your bodies, completely spent of all energy. Tonight would be no different. You got comfortable on the soft duvet, head resting on an array of feather pillows as Marc hovered above you, his eyes hungry for you, raking over your body as though he was deciding how much he planned to ruin you tonight.

“So goddamn beautiful”, he whispered, pressing a kiss to your lips softly, wedging his body between yours. He pressed his lower body against yours, friction already flying between your bodies. He moaned into your mouth, clearly just as wanting for you after spending so many nights thinking of you and how soft and pretty you were while getting himself off in the shower, teeth lodged in his lower lip so none of his neighbours heard him moan your name.

His lips travelled lower, dipping to your collarbone and planting soft kisses there. They dropped lower, red and purple blemishes peppered along your chest in his wake. With one hand propping him above your body, the other pulled down one of the straps of your top, exposing your breasts. “So pretty, so perfect for me,” he mumbled, taking one of your breasts in his large hand while attending to the other with his mouth.

Gasps were pulled from your throat at the heavenly sensation of his tongue running over your pert nipple, sucking and kissing little bruises into the plush flesh, while his hand grasped and tweaked at your other breast deliciously. The feelings were almost too overwhelming, gasps and moans dragging from the pit of your stomach as he played and toyed with you so perfectly. You were so malleable and pliant for him, your body completely becoming his to enjoy and to make you feel entirely euphoric. After giving the same attention to your other breast, he ensured that he was completely satisfied with the art work he had made of you, pretty blemishes and bruises and love bites littering your skin just to his liking, marking you as his and only his.

“Marc,” you breathed softly, his face immediately coming back up to meet yours. “Yeah, baby?” He asked, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

“Want you. Need you now. Please.” God, the way you asked for him, begged for him to ruin you in the best way possible. He had left you for so long, denied you of his touch for months, so there was no way he could ever say no to you now. He planned to give you everything you wanted and more, until tears formed in your eyes and you had been reduced to an incoherent mess. It was something you had previously discussed quite a lot. You originally planned to come out with “fuck me until I cry”, but decided on a softer and more in depth approach. But he had delivered what you asked for perfectly, not stopping until you had to push him away from the overstimulation. Since then, anything you asked for or wanted to try, he always made you feel better than you ever had before.

“Hmm…want me to fuck you, darling? Want me to make you scream my name so all of our neighbours can hear you? They’d be lucky to hear you, how pretty you sound for me when I’m inside you, knowing that they can never have you the way I can. God, you look so pretty right now, I want to ruin you, until everyone knows who you belong to. You want that too, darling?”

You grew wetter just from his words. They were like poetry, each sentence lodging itself deeper into your core, nestling in the pits of your womb. “Yes. Please. Please, Marc. Touch me,” you asked, feeling his hand dip lower and lower with each word that spilled over your lips. Your pleads melted into whispering babbles as fingertips slid under your shorts and connected with your soaked folds.

“I got you, darlin’. You just keep making those pretty noises for me, or I’ll stop. Want you to be as loud as you can as I make you feel good. Yeah?” His lips brushed the shell of your ear, breath running down the side of your neck. You nodded, mouth agape as his fingers ghosted over your clit, teasing you incessantly. But he couldn’t tease you for long, he wouldn’t last long that way. Cupping your pussy, one finger dipped into your dripping hole, feeling how wet you were just from his words. It turned him on even more, knowing how hot and bothered he could get you in just a few minutes. “Good girl,” he mumbled before slotting his lips against yours.

The second his finger pushed into you slowly, your legs fell open, no longer trapping his waist between your thighs. “Atta girl, just let me make you feel good, hmm?” His voice was heavenly, husky with his thick accent on his tongue. Pumping his thick finger in and out of you, the sounds it made were only making Marc harder in his pants. Adding a second finger, he scissored them inside you, curling them at the perfect angle to make your back arch against him. You moaned into his mouth, and Marc took the opportunity to slide his tongue into your mouth, intertwining it with yours.

His thumb on your clit, long fingers working at a fast pace inside of you and hitting a spot that could make you scream, you were already so close. Gasps and moans were escaping your lips with each ministration of his fingers, bringing you closer to the edge. Your moans were like music to Marc’s ears; he loved it when you were vocal like this, it could make him cum on the spot if he let himself go like that.

But you loved it too. Being loud for him. There had been times when neighbours had banged on the wall or your front door, but neither of you cared. Marc had just fucked you harder saying that “they should be lucky to hear such a pretty thing like you”.

Your thighs tightened around Marc’s body as you felt something building in your core. Your moans were breathier, eyes rolling to the back of your head as Marc’s fingers worked faster and faster inside of you, curling to attack that spongy spot deep inside your pussy with precise aim. “Come on, darlin’. Come undone for me. I know you can.” His lips attacked your neck once more as your fingers dug into his back as you felt yourself clench his fingers tighter. Waves and waves of pleasure overtook you, surging through your body until all you could feel was complete euphoria. “That’s it baby, doing so good for me.” He fucked you on his fingers through your orgasm, kissing all of the blemishes he’d previously left on your skin. “Feel good?” He asked, kissing across your face to your lips once again. You nodded, words escaping you once again as you laid in your state of bliss for a few seconds longer. He loved seeing you like this, looking blissful and post orgasmic like this. But he wasn’t done with you yet. You weren’t done yet either.

Marc hovered above you, drinking you in with his eyes, the look on his face showed how much he clearly missed you for those months he was away.

“Marc.” You pulled him from his trance and he looked down at you, blinking into focus. He hummed quietly in response. “I love you, but are you just gonna stay there, or are you going to fuck me?” You taunted, seeing how his eyes darkened at your boldened words and a smirk appeared on his face.

“Oh baby, I love it when you say it like that.” His hands drifted to the thin material of your shorts, pulling the clothing from your body in one swift motion and exposing you entirely to him. “You wanna turn over for me, darlin?” Marc leaned back so you could sit up, letting you change positions after you speedily pulled the shirt off your body, your hands and knees sinking into the soft mattress beneath the two of you. The bed rocked a little as weight shifted behind you, the sounds of a belt buckle being undone and pants falling to the ground could be heard. You felt him get back onto the bed, coming up behind you and palming your ass, squeezing the soft flesh with a light slap to make you jump. He pushed his hips flush against your ass, the feel of his hardened cock against you only made you want him more.

He peppered kisses along your spine, one hand wrapped around his cock and the other firmly grasping your hip to keep you in place. “Ready, baby?” You heard him ask, and you nodded eagerly in response. You dropped yourself down to resting on your elbows instead of your hands, arching your back a little more and pushing your ass against him more. That earned you a swift smack on your left ass cheek, causing you to yelp out from surprise. “Be patient. Or else you get nothing, darling.”

You opened your mouth to respond but were cut off when the tip of his cock brushed through your folds and teasing your hole slightly before pushing in. You both groaned at the feel of his cock being guided into you, the way you clamped around him as he drove himself further into your dripping pussy. Marc didn’t breathe until he was fully sheathed inside you, his cock throbbing against your walls, hands gripping your hips with vigour. There was no movement on his end for a few moments as he let you adjust to his size, aside from the occasional twitching of his dick as it nestled inside you.

“Fuck you feel so good, darlin. Practically made for me, weren’t you? Fuck, feels so perfect,” he mumbled as his thumbs drew circles into your skin, fingerprints most likely becoming indented into your skin from how firmly he was holding you in place. Just the sheer thought of his hands leaving marks on your skin aroused him more than he thought was possible. “Can I move, baby?”

You couldn’t even speak, the feel of him filling you up so good vacated any thought from your brain and rendered you speechless. So you just managed a nod. But that wasn’t enough for Marc. He grabbed a fistful of your hair and pulled you up off the bed so your head was resting back against his shoulder. “Baby, if you want me to fuck you like I know you like, then you’re going to have to fucking ask for it. Hmm?” You clenched around him harder at those words, gripping him like a vice at the gravelly tone in his voice.

“Please, please Marc. Move. Fuck me,” you begged, the stinging of his hand gripping your hair merging into intense pleasure.

“Are you gonna be good?”

You almost made the mistake of nodding again. “I will. I’ll be good for you.”

That seemed to satisfy him. He pushed you down against the mattress, releasing your hair and grabbing your arms instead, manoeuvring them so they were behind your back. With one hand, he held your wrists together behind your back and pulled out of you until only the tip of his cock remained in your pussy. “Good baby.” They were the only words you heard before his cock rammed back into you, hitting that spot that sent you seeing stars on the first try. You cried out in pleasure, face pressed against the soft bed as your arms flexed as much as they could in the tight grip Marc had them locked in.

Over and over again, Marc drove his cock deep inside you, continuously hitting that delicious spot that made you scream his name, begging for more. At the power and speed his dick pistoned into you, it was sure to leave bruises on you, but you’d welcome them as a reminder of this very night. “That’s it baby,” Marc said through gritted teeth. “Let all of Cairo know my name.” And you did. You felt as though ‘Marc’ was the only word you knew how to speak. “So cockdumb for me, aren’t you, pretty thing? Does my dick make you feel that good?” His words were a drug and you were addicted.

You were rendered to a babbling mess underneath him, completely and entirely submitted to him as he manhandled you to his desired fantasy. Restricted, controlled, handled in a way Marc knew you wanted to be, he knew you inside and out, knew what you liked and what turned you on the most. He was really using all of this to his advantage right now. And you were eating it up.

Driving his cock into you harder and harder, the bed started to creak with the force of his thrusts, pushing your body further into the mattress as he fucked you. Tears started to prick at the corners of your eyes from the coil tightening in the pit of your stomach, the result of Marc’s cock hitting the spongy spot inside every time with expert precision. He was so good at knowing your body and focusing on making you feel like you were ascending to heaven.

“Right there, darlin? Yeah, it’s right there. Grippin’ me so tight. You close, baby?” His voice was somehow deeper and huskier than before as he tried to hold out until he made you cum at least once more.

“Y-yeah, right there Marc. Just there,” you cried out, barely able to say the words at this point. “So close, ‘m so close.” It was building up violently and quickly, pushing you to the brink of bliss until you were practically teetering on the edge of it.

“I got you, darlin. Don’t you worry.” Marc’s body hunched over yours as his thrusts became deeper and slower, his hand drifting from your hip and round to your stomach, pressing against it lightly to feel the indentation of his cock against your skin. It almost made him cum on the spot.

You cried out as the coil snapped, your pussy tightening even more around his cock as he continued thrusting as you worked through your orgasm. He continued to piston perfectly against that spot, really making you see stars this time, overstimulating you until tears rolled down your face.

“There ya go, baby. Fuck, you sound so pretty when I fuck you,” Marc revelled in your sounds as they brought him closer to his own orgasm. “Gonna fill you up with my cum, darlin’. How does that sound, huh? Having my cum inside your pretty pussy?”

You nodded profusely as you tried to find the words. “Please, Marc. Cum inside me, fill me up.” He did just that. Groaning deeply as he released deep inside you, stuttering to a still, his body hunched over yours as he came. You both breathed heavily through your orgasms, sweat slicked across your skin, but neither of you cared. Your heads were filled with ecstasy and that’s all that mattered right now. The Cairo heat didn’t help, sticking your skin together as you filled your lungs with air once again.

Marc lifted off you, releasing your hands and leaning back to see his cum dripping out of you as he pulled out slowly. You moaned slightly at the empty feeling he left you with, letting your body weight drop onto the bed and rolling onto your back. The edge of the bed shifted as Marc moved off it, walking over to the bathroom. You didn’t even realise what he was doing until something dragged along your inner thigh. Instinctively, your hand moved to push him away, not thinking you’d be able to take much more of him just yet.

“Easy, darlin’. Just cleaning you up, okay?” There was a sweet tone to his voice, a harsh contrast from earlier, but you sensed a smile in his voice too. You removed your hand and let him continue, settling into the comfortable bed as he dragged the warm and damp towel across your skin. Once he was finished, Marc tossed the towel into the laundry hamper and ran his hands over your knees and thighs, pressing kisses to your thighs softly. “Feeling okay?”

“Feeling great,” you breathed out, smiling when he chuckled slightly. He laid down next to you and you rolled over to face him, meeting his kind eyes. “Promise me that the next time you decide to go on some hunt, that you’ll take me with you.” Marc chuckled once again and nodded.

“Okay, darlin. I promise. We’re a team, right? I won’t leave you behind.” He pressed a kiss to your forehead and the two of you laid there, basking in the Egyptian sun which hit Marc’s skin so perfectly, making him look as though he’d been dipped in honey.

#marc spector #moon knight #mcu #marvel #oscar isaac #marc spector x reader #moon knight x reader #marvel x reader #smut #fluff #fanfiction #fanfic #marc spector fanfiction #moon knight fanfiction #moon knight smut

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hollowtakami · 4 months

Text

THE WORDS YOU GAVE ME

Keigo Takami x GN reader

CONTENT; pure fluff, waking up with my fav birb, pet names (duckie, baby bird, dove), comfort w/ some reverse comfort too.

WORD COUNT; 732

AUTHOR NOTE; im so sorry I’ve been gone so long!! :( life really got in the way and i’ve been unable to write from lack of motivation and stuff. i wrote this little drabble to try and get back into the swing of things, i’m quite proud of it but i’m still a little rusty. i hope you’re all doing well during the run up to the new year! remember to drink water and take care of yourself, you’re so loved <3

Mourning doves cooed out their quiet songs as the sun stretched out into the sky, wrapped in blankets of clouds. Its light slithered under your curtains and ran its warm ray of fingers over your face. You stirred, your face scrunching up as you reluctantly greeted a new day and turned to your side to be met with a comforting, red warmth; the fiery plumage of Keigo’s wings, his primaries spread over the thickness of your duck-feather duvet. You rub your eyes as you feel a hand stroke the hair from your face. Those hands trail down to rub your shoulders, massaging gentle circles of comfort into your skin.

“Morning, dove,” A voice croaks out.

“Good morning,” You reply, opening your heavy eyes to a sleepy Keigo, shirtless with the rising sun highlighting him like a halo through your curtains.

He smiles at the sound of your voice, amber suns pinning as the dark holes of his eyes dilate to twice their size. He stretches his wings out again as he shuffles closer to you, his hand on your shoulder raising to your face again, the pad of his thumb making circles on your cheek.

You feel yourself melt into the warmth of his touch, leaning in slightly. The comfort of the blankets and duvet were one thing, but when Keigo was under them with you, it was like the stars had aligned so perfectly. You knew that if he could, Keigo would align the stars for you, paint a sky full of the stars he knew you loved so much.

“How’d you sleep?” Keigo asked, never taking his eyes off you.

You shrugged, your throat still a little hoarse. You only leaned Keigo’s chest, the heat of his skin setting your cheeks on fire. You couldn’t tell if it was that or the brush of red that bloomed over your face, but Keigo was happy to still have that effect on you, after all this time.

He planted a kiss on the crown of your head, resting his chin. You hummed to yourself happily, half asleep. The two of you laid in comfortable silence for a moment, the sound of each other breathing like a lifeline. Keigo ran his hands through your hair and draped a wing over the two of you like a blanket of red plumage - warm and cosy, with his safe, familiar scent.

Your eyes failed you, growing heavy again. You yawned, face scrunching up. Keigo would always laugh and tell you how cute he thought you were, kiss your nose softly and leave you a melting mess to resume whatever he was doing. This time was no different.

“Still tired, baby bird?” Keigo chirped, cupping your face and pecking your nose with a gentle kiss, smiling to himself as your soft blush only grew in intensity. “You’re so adorable.”

However many times he’d kiss you, it always felt like the first time. There was something about the love Keigo gave you that was so familiar yet so fresh. It set your weary heart at ease, it made everything okay.

You look up at him, your eyes like stars as they refracted the morning light. Keigo felt himself melting, choking back a stray chirp that dared to jump up his throat. His plumage fluffed up slightly, the perking of his primaries ruffling the duvet a little. You cupped his face with one hand, using your free hand to haul yourself upwards slightly as you kissed Keigo's nose, your cheek scratching against his stubble slightly as you sank back down into the sheets.

His eyes pinned, the gold of his irises almost completely taken over by black. He nervously smiled, his face redder than his wings. He was the one who gave affection, he was never one to be good at receiving it. The Commission had almost completely trained that out of him, oiling his heart with apathy instead of love. So, you always made sure to remind Keigo that he was loved, that he was worthy of love; after all, he did the same for you.

“I love you, Kei,” you cooed, beaming.

That repressed chirp regurgitated up from Keigo’s throat, a nervous laugh not far behind. You smiled, tracing his jawline with your thumb. Nicknames were the man’s weakness. Call him Kei, and he’ll melt.

Keigo beamed back, shining like a star.

“I love you too, duckie,”

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khuzena · 6 months

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Seasons.

Itoshi Rin, Michael Kaiser x g/n!reader

Summary: Like how flowers bloom in spring, how flowers bask in the warmth of summer's embrace, their petals fall in autumn and their essence crumbles in winter. Their heart does too, though it still beats for you <3

Warning: Angst, breakup, cheating, drifting apart, hurt just hurt. No fluff, we don't do that weak sh here (kinda but nothing lasts forever).

A/n: life update. Been gone for MONTHS, sorry for no update :(. i fell in love, fell out of love but took me months to get over and now i came back ^^ tho I'll post a full update if any of you still remember me and want to know everrrrything that went on these months i was inactive:>

Listening to: MR. LOVERMAN

Michael Kaiser

I've shattered now, I'm spilling out

Upon this linoleum ground.

The memory still ingrained in the crevices of his heart like a fresh wound.

He remembers it like it was just yesterday.

It was spring when he met you.

His headphones blaring music so loud the world went silent around him as he walked without a care in the world. There you were, some nobody transferee with a dream, three books hugged to your chest as you bumped into him.

"A-ah! Sorry!" The books fell to the ground, kneeling as you tried to grab all your pens that fell too.

Kaiser sips his tea in his balcony, The cacophonic mantra of sorrys of that sunny afternoon still ringing in his ears.

When he also knelt down to your level to help you carry them, he shrugged it off and apologised back.

Your gazes locked, it was new, so exciting. Yet It felt so dangerous.

Then, he swept you off your feet on the summer beach.

There were three things that caught his eyes that day: the endless sea, the ice cream that melted on the sand and you.

"Pfft you— you wasted your ice cream!" That sweet laugh of you still haunting him in his dreams everyday. It was June when he told you -he was lonely- it would be fun if you tagged along in his trip to the seaside.

The soft sand touching your skin and his, as he inched closer to your face. His heart raced, faster than he's ever felt before.

Your lips touching, he expected it would feel like fireworks exploding in new years but no— it felt like home. He was no longer just a man, he was a lover (too).

The sun set and till autumn, every kiss, every hug was straight out of the movie.

It was just the two of you; his eyes never leaving yours, a kiss on his neck or two, maybe even the trickling sweat from his forehead.

Either way, it felt just right.

Autumn, he was tired.

Though he could not leave you, not when he was your loverman.

Not like this.

He may have loved you, but he loved feeling loved more.

A little too much— that he found himself in the arms of another woman.

"It isn't what it seems like, mein liebe please." His fingers gripping your wrist hard, begging you to stay.

How could you? Why would you?

He smelled too much like that other woman.

From a noble, rich, revered professional athlete now turned into an idiotic, dishevelled, weak man. Begging for forgiveness, he got on his knees and sang your name like a prayer but it was no use.

You were no god, it was not your obligation to forgive nor give salvation to those who've sinned.

You couldn't look him in the eye. All your love for him fell in a blink of an eye. Not all of it though.

"I'm sorry, I know you won't forgive me. But please, don't leave me tonight."

It was true when all your love wasn't gone for him, maybe you were selfish too.

That night, you indulged in this sin too. You were a sinner too, maybe even more than him.

You've sinned against yourself, your own morals for your pleasure.

It was Winter when you left.

The morning after that loveless night, he shed his tears in his dreams— he didn't want you to see.

Though you've seen through him.

It was natural to feel hatred, contempt and confusion because of his act of betrayal.

But you didn't.

You cupped his face gently, tracing your thumb over his tear-stained pretty face. He cried again; not in his dreams but in your embrace.

His heart broke more at the sight of you looking at him with such pity.

You've packed your things that day. As you opened the door you were greeted with first, the taxi cab then the gust of strong snow carried off by the wind.

"I guess this is it."

"Yeah"

A man with an ego of god, staring at you with eyes of a believer, still hoping, praying you realise that you can't live without him and run to his arms and stay.

But you didn't.

And you looked back to him one more time, the cold has already frozen your tears.

Then, silence.

'Shit, shit, shit' the thought raced in his head as kept pacing around in the living room.

Though he knows it's for the best. He's a selfish, self-centred, arrogant man.

Though if there's one thing: he loves being loved more than he loves you.

But when you left, he realised he loved you more that he let you go.

He was no longer a loverman, just a man.

Itoshi Rin

The ways in which you say my name, Have me wishin' I were gone

They ways that you say my name, have me runnin' on and on

Not too much, not too little.

How'd he describe his past relationship with you.

It was just right.

Where did it go wrong?

Was it when he stopped saying your name sweetly?

Or was it when you stopped cheering for him in his game?

It wasn't that, he still doesn't know why you both fell apart.

Though as cold as he is, he's as gentle as a flower on the inside.

When you started your midterms, he had a bouquet; the largest in the store possible.

He plopped it on your desk as he saw you tirelessly study your notes. Sighing, he made you some tea to calm your nerves.

"Rinnie, you didn't have to do this," Groggily said as you examined the bouquet to your left, "You didn't have to get me this…"

"But you deserve it."

A flush creeped in your cheeks when he blurted it out with no hesitation, did this loverboy love you to the moon and back this much? Oh how'd you tease him for this a billion times.

The bouquet was still as fresh as when you got them— it was already summer but he took good care of it.

His eyes watching your every move; the clicking sound of your pen, your frown as you tried to absorb the lesson and your oh so pretty eyes.

He could never get enough of this, he's wanted to see this sight every day, every night for the rest of his life.

Maybe marriage would do? But like all stories, not all are fairy tales.

Everyday until autumn he'd take you to a cafe you both liked. It was quiet and it smelled like coffee— the perfect combination.

Like all flowers do, the petals started to fall from the vase.

At this point of the relationship he was too busy to care about getting you flowers, or tending to your needs as he had his to attend to.

But, the relationship was happy… right?

He was oblivious, too naive to notice what was going on.

Though you were there, you wanted to fix things.

You'd bring him tiny trinkets from your work trips, a yummy cake from a nearby bakery or maybe some pair of cleats he was eyeing (though most of the time he already had bought it right after you gifted him one.)

The relationship was getting boring.

It was going nowhere.

Though none of you wanted to go anywhere.

Even though he'd hold you in a tight embrace, it felt cold. Was it the weather? Or was it just him?

The 'I love you's that'd slip from his lips often, stopped. There were no more random compliments or cute nicknames.

An occasional gift or two, though he was an idiot, he gives and gives and doesn't know how to take.

When winter came he was no longer begging you to warm up with him near the chimney or near the Christmas tree.

It was winter, his heart turned cold.

"Lets break up"

Adamancy dripped from his tone, he was serious about it.

"Why?"

Why?

"Because… I don't see this relationship going anywhere."

Your heart shattering into a million pieces, you wanted to punch his stupid face. How could he say that nonchalantly?

Though, it was true.

It wasn't going anywhere.

He knew it was for the better; he loved you too much to trap you in such a boring, loveless relationship.

Maybe one day, it will be spring all over again.

But your hand is holding another man's (or woman's).

He passed by another flower shop, he thinks he should buy you another bouquet again.

Notes: I wrote this at 12 am (it's 2 am now). I apologise for any grammatical mistakes :(( super tired and i have an unfinished sci assignment. I dont wanana live anymoreee. Idk if any of u still remember me tho LOLOLOL.

If u do i'm sorry if i dropped some underwhelming work as a return to the bllk tumblr fandom ehe (no kinktober just heart wrenching angstober ^^)

Written by @khuzena. Likes, reblogs and comments are always appreciated. ♡

#blue lock x reader #blue lock ansgt #blue lock fluff #blue lock fanfic #bllk angst #bllk x reader #kaiser x reader #bllk kaiser #itoshi rin x reader #itoshi rin angst #itoshi sae x reader #blue lock angst

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a-dam-leo-valdez-lover · 3 months

Text

Reunion

Leo Valdez x Fem reader

This takes place after the events of the second great prophecy, Y/N was on the Argo II with the 7 and is a daughter of Apollo but really could be anyone. Y/N is mourning the loss of her best friend and crush Leo and when everyone gathers for the memorial of his death things change. Don’t judge me too hard its been a few years since I wrote anything and had to start my blog fresh. Not entirely following cannon and while calypso is mention she isn’t actually a part of the story.

It took 3 days of searching before Chiron decided they were never going to find Leo’s body, to declare him dead. It took 2 weeks for Frank and Hazel to go back to Camp Jupiter after Leo’s funeral, Jason followed them a few days later promising he’d iris message Piper everyday. After a month Annabeth and Percy needed to go back to school, it turns out going on a quest really messed up a demigod's grades and makes getting into New Rome university way harder. A week after Percy and Annabeth left camp, Piper went out to visit her dad and for the first time since the quest began, Y/n found herself completely alone.

At first she struggled to find a way to spend her days. Unlike her siblings she lacked any all all skills in archery and Y/ns musical abilities left much to be desired. It was winter at camp so there wasn’t as much going on, most days she spent alone. The snow covered camp was beautiful, quieter than normal it seemed, except for the occasional bit of laughter from the other year round campers. She tried to iris message the others occasionally, shed promised Piper that she would call everyday, but it was never enough. She spent time with will, practicing in the infirmary and getting to know Nico since they were basically joint at the hip these days. It was good to see them happy, but it made her feel more alone. Sure her and Leo were never together, but he was her world, her partner in crime. She never got to tell him she loved him.

Over time though, it became easier. It turns out crushes feel less strong when the one you like is gone, and while Y/n may suck at archery and music it turns out she had a real knack for pegasus training. Plus with all the time in the world to practice she was pretty good with a sword too. Eventually she spent less time moping and being lonely and more time focused on build relationships with her sibilings, especially Will. The two of them would talk for hours on and end and his southern accent, while not quiet like Leo’s was comforting on the night where she had nightmares that kept her up. By default she became close with Nico too, sure they’d spoken on occasion before the quest and became a bit closer while trapped together on a ship for a few weeks, but this was new. He was quiet and didn’t ask too may questions, but he understood her grief better than anybody else.

Unbeknownst to Y/N, Nico knew she wasn’t he only one still grieving Leo. He’d spoken to Percy and Hazel a few times and heard through the grape vine how Frank, Annabeth, Jason, and Piper were doing. He could see the sadness that lingered in their eyes, the lack of sleep was obvious, and he knew he had to do something. So it took it upon himself to plan a memorial for Leo.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

6 months after Leo’s death, everyone came back for the memorial. It was weird, awkward almost to all be together again. On one hand they all knew each other like the back of their hand, but at the same time things had changed, they weren’t in any real danger for once and its almost like they didn’t know how to interact without a monster lurking or the impending end of the world to lead the conversation. Thank gods for Piper, she always knew how to get everyone talking.

"Remember the time Leo pranked Chiron by programming his wheelchair to go backwards only? Or that time he made that robot spider to scare the Athena cabin during capture the flag," she reminisced, a bittersweet smile on her face.

Percy chuckled, "I swore Annabeth was going to kill him for that, i swear she screamed so loud my mom could hear it."

”Rude,” Annabeth tried to be mad but even she couldn’t hide the smile on her face, “but yeah, I was planning my revenge”

She paused, everybody knew what she wanted to say, he died before she got the chance. The room was heavy for a moment before y/n changed the subject.

”You know what I was thinking about the other day, the time he 'accidentally' set the strawberry fields on fire while upgrading Festus's flame system.”

It worked like a charm. The room echoed with laughter and shared stories about the metal dragon and the boy who built it. Y/N listened as everyone talked, but her attention began to drift as she gazed into the sky, captivated by a mysterious glimmer.

Annabeth noticed her distraction, especially because the conversation had shifted a while ago, and asked, "Y/N, do you even know what we're talking about?"

"Festus," Y/N replied absentmindedly, her eyes still lingering on the shiny object.

Annabeth sighed, "No, we're discussing college plans, Y/N have you even heard a word we said?."

Before Annabeth could get into a lecture about how important having a plan is, Y/N's eyes widened.

"It's Festus," She whispered, so quiet almost anybody could miss it She rose quickly from her seat staring at the shiny object in the sky, her heart pounding with a mix of hope and disbelief. The group followed her gaze, their expressions changing from confusion to surprise. A metallic dragon, catching the sunlight, soared across the sky. The sight left them momentarily speechless. Then, realization dawned, and their faces mirrored Y/N's astonishment.

She ran out as fast as she could to the beach where the dragon was landing, when she saw him. Leo Valdez, presumed dead, had returned in the most Leo way possible. The daylight seemed to cast a spotlight on him as he stood there with a stupid smirk on his face. The poor boy had hardly a moment to prepare himself before Y/N jumped into his arms wrapping him a hug.

"What are you—how, I mean..." Y/N stuttered, her voice a mix of confusion and elation.

Leo, with his trademark smirk, simply said, "Surprise."

"Surprise? Surprise? What the heck, Leo!" Y/N's confusion turned into a whirlwind of emotions. "You died. I watched you die. We never found your body, but you were gone. I spoke at your funeral, and now you're back, and all you have to say is 'surprise'? Gods, what is—"

Leo's laughter cut through her words. "Hey, I had to make a grand entrance, right? Can't just show up without a little flair."

Y/N's frustration shifted to a mixture of relief and exasperation. "Flair? Leo, you had us all convinced you were gone. What happened? How are you here?"

Leo scratched his head, a habit that hadn't changed. "Long story short, Festus and I took a detour in the labyrinth. Ended up in Ogygia. You know, Calypso's island? Time flows differently there, and by the time we found a way out, well, time had moved a bit faster here."

"Ogygia? Calypso? Time travel?" Y/N's head spun with the unexpected twists.

"Yeah, yeah. I've got a lot to catch you up on," Leo grinned. "But one thing's for sure, I'm back, and we've got some serious catching up to do."

Y/N's initial shock transformed into a grin. "You have no idea how much we've missed you, Leo Valdez."

As they walked back to camp together, the reunion echoed with laughter, questions, and the comforting feeling of having a friend thought to be lost returned.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Later that night as the campfire crackled, casting a warm glow on the faces of the reunited demigods the Apollo cabin led the campers in a a few songs and Leo entertained the crowd with his tales of defying death. The atmosphere was one of joy and celebration, as the group sat together, reveling in the miraculous return of their comrade.

As the night unfolded, the campfire stories wove a tapestry of memories, both old and new. Y/N, caught up in the camaraderie, joined in the laughter and shared anecdotes. However, amidst the festivities, a moment of quiet reflection struck her. As she looked at the boy in front of her smiling and laughing her heart suddenly felt like it was being pulled in a few directions. He was really back. Maybe it was the days excitement or too much smoke inhalation or a combination of the two, but Y/N couldn’t breathe.

Pulling away from the group, Y/N wandered to the edge of the camp, her thoughts a whirlwind of emotions. The gravity of Leo's return, the mourning that had transpired, and the overwhelming joy of having him back weighed on her. It was all too much. Not to mention him being alive meant she’d have to deal with the whole unrequited crush thing. Not that she could even think about it right then, because Leo, sensing her retreat, followed her to the quiet corner.

"Hey, Y/N, everything okay?" he asked, concern etched on his face.

She hesitated, then sighed. "It's just... Leo, I thought you were gone. We all did. Losing you was... I can't put it into words. And now you're back, and it's so much to process."

Leo nodded understandingly, pulling her into a comforting hug. "I get it, Y/N. It's a lot. But I could never leave you behind, you know? We're in this together."

His words resonated with Y/N, and as Leo held her, she felt a mix of emotions pouring out. The weight of grief mingled with the joy of reunion overwhelmed her, and tears flowed freely. Leo just held her, it was almost enough to make her feel better on the spot. As the two stood apart the rest of their friends watched them whispering to one another.

”So when are the two of them going to admit they’re in love” Frank joked.

”Y/n talking about her feelings? It’s never going to happen” Jason laughed receiving a slap in the arm from Piper.

”I wouldn't say never,” Nico said , “she thought she missed her chance once she won’t let it happened again”

”Well lets just hope its soon, because I cannot hear about how ‘y/n does like me like that’ from Leo again when its so obvious to everyone else she does' Piper laughed looking at her two friends.

This is the first thing I’ve written in a long time but hopefully it’ll get better. Requests are open and please let me know if you want a sequel to this or anything else. Also lmk if you want to be tagged in the next one!

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mrsstarkey1 · 1 year

Text

this is me trying - rafe cameron

SUMMARY: based on 'this is me trying' by taylor swift. takes place after the events of season three.

WORD COUNT: 1.2k

WARNINGS: season 3 spoilers

A/N: you cannot tell me this song doesn't portray rafe cameron perfectly like ??? it's insane. also check out my most recent rafe fic

------

i've been having a hard time adjusting

i had the shiniest wheels, now they're rusting

rafe couldn't remember a time before the gold, before the cross, before his dad became obsessed, before he let his dad drag him down with him, before his dad was dead.

rafe's entire life, he made decisions with one thing in mind; his dad. then suddenly, he was gone. it was as if in one singular instant, rafe's life became meaningless. his purpose - gone. his reasoning for every terrible thing he's ever done - gone.

he wanted to be angry, to blame someone. he wanted to not believe the story that sarah told him. but something inside him wouldn't let himself blame anyone but himself.

as rafe wandered the streets of whatever city he ended up in running from his problems, he found remembering glimpses of his life before everything got complicated. he used to have money that didn't come from gold; he used to have friends; he used to have the possibility of a future; he used to be happy. he missed that. and he could finally admit it.

i didn't know if you'd care if i came back

i have a lot of regrets about that

rafe left the outer banks without saying a word to anyone the same day that sarah told him about his father. he didn’t even say anything to you, but he wished that he did.

now it’d been so long, he was so worried that even if he came back to you, and God knows he wanted to, that you'd never forgive him.

he told himself that you probably wouldn't even care if he came back. in reality, he was just terrified that if he faced you and you felt how he thought you did, he'd lose the one thing he was still living for.

if he lost the idea of you; the possibility that maybe one day he could hold you in his arms again, then he'd have nothing. he couldn't bare the thought of that.

pulled the car off the road to the lookout

could've followed my fears all the way down

rafe twisted the key out of the ignition, tossing it onto the passengers seat. he opened the car door with a shaky hand before he could talk himself out of it.

he dragged his feet along the ground, dirt kicking up as he walked. breathing in the mountain air, he looked down, kicking a rock over the edge. he estimated about it was about 300 feet until the first ledge.

rafe lifted his eyes up, blinking the tears away that he hadn’t realized had formed. he took in the view along with a deep breath. his head was level with the clouds, and he’d never seen something so beautiful; so calming - the fresh air, the mountain view, the feeling he got. taking it all in, rafe finally felt at peace. which made sense, given what he’d pulled over the car to do.

almost every part of him was ready. every part of him except for the part that still loved you; the part of him that wanted to make things right.

he was still terrified of facing you, even more so now since it had been almost a year. and now he had a choice to make. he could take one more step forward and chase that fear all the way to bottom; take the easy way out. or he could turn around, and follow his fear back home.

and maybe i don’t quite know what to say

but i’m here in your doorway

i just wanted you to know

that this is me trying

rafe could barely keep his eyes open by the time he’d pulled into your driveway. a twelve hour drive running on no sleep and no food, it was a miracle he hadn’t wrapped his car around a tree.

rafe’s heartbeat quickened when his eyes met your car parked on the side of the street. you were inside. a part of him had been hoping you wouldn’t be home, and he’d have a little longer to decide what to say. he’d thought 12 hours would have been enough, but his shaking hands suggested otherwise.

he gripped the steering wheel, closing his eyes and forcing in a deep breath. this is why he was still alive, for this very moment.

he pushed open the car door as soon as he’d psyched himself up enough. within a couple seconds, he was at your front door, fist held up inches from the wood. this is when he finally realized what he was doing.

you were never going to forgive him, what was he doing? his heart beated against his chest like a drum, and he suddenly felt like he couldn’t breathe. his body went completely weak, and he practically crashed into the front door.

it was the footsteps on the other side of the door that brought him out of his weakened state, and he realized what had just happened. you were coming to the door. he was going to be face to face with you in less than a minute. he stepped back from the door, glancing back at his car, weighing his options.

the door swung open so quickly, rafe jumped out of his skin, for a lack of better words. he opened his mouth to say something, but not even a breath came out.

there you were. you looked even more beautiful than he remembered. your hair was lighter and a lot longer, reminding him that it had been an entire year since he’d seen you.

“rafe,” he’d barely heard you say, still trying to believe that you were within his reach. you took a step closer, eyes scanning over his entire body. “you-you’re here,” you breathed out.

your eyes asked a million questions, and all he wanted to do was answer them. but every time he opened his mouth to say something, only silence followed. before he knew it, your arms were wrapped around him and hands tangled in his hair. your hugs still felt the exact same after a year, and the second he breathed in the scent of you, it felt like he’d gone back in time.

his eyes fluttered shut and his arms closed tightly around you, hanging on for dear life.

the embrace didn’t last nearly as long as he wanted, which was forever. you pulled away, keeping your hands on his arms. “where the hell have you been, rafe?” you asked, eyes scanning his face. he wanted to tell you everything, he needed to, but his throat was closed shut. all he could do was stare into your eyes. “talk to me, baby. you’ve been gone for a year. no contact, no nothing. i understand why you left, okay? you lost your father, and i know how much me meant to you. but you’ve got to tell me what’s going on. please, rafe, just talk to me.”

“i-” he started, a pathetic feeling engulfing him when his voice broke after one word and he looked at the ground. you moved closer, hands slipping from his arms and up to the sides of his face. you trained your eyes on his, silently begging him to talk. rafe took a shaky breath, “i’m trying,” he let out weakly.

you nodded your head intently, “i know you are.” you saw it in his eyes, the broken part of him. you leaned in, resting your forehead on his, “i know you’re trying.”

rafe nodded, a sigh of relief escaping him. twelve hours ago, he was standing on the edge between life and death. looking into your eyes now, he knew that he would spend the rest of his days trying to pay you back for being the reason he chose life.

at least i'm trying

taglist (message me to be added): @withbeautyandrage @willowpains

REQUESTS OPEN !!

check out my obx masterlist || taylor swift song inspired fics

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starleska · 8 months

Note

barges in/ WHAT ABOUT BTAS JERVIS X READER?

OWO

why, thank you for asking 😉 i've had this persistent concept knocking around my brain wherein Jervis earnestly tries to move past his devotion for Alice...only to tumble straight back down into obsession when he meets You 😳

Jervis Tetch x Reader First Meeting headcanons

🎩 although it pains him to admit it, the years of unrequited love have taken their toll on Jervis. his Alice is long gone—departed from Gotham with her now-husband (filthy brute), with a new name and her hair dyed a mousey brown. as far as he can tell, she's dropped off the map entirely, and it's been nearly a year since he last caught any trace of her. months in yet another cold, lonely stint at Arkham leave his soul more empty than ever before...and he decides, one lovelorn night, that such suffering should not befall a gentleman. although the thought sickens him, Jervis resolves that when he gets out, he is going to make a fresh start...even just for a while.

🎩 when finally he next escapes (his technology being instrumental in a jailbreak largely orchestrated by the other rogues, of course—no need for him to do their dirty work), Jervis makes good on his promise and leaves Gotham for a few cities over. he travels in civilian clothes and fights the urge to wear any sort of hat, fearing that even a simple cap could betray his identity. yet the experiment is a success. within days he has sequestered himself in an unassuming little apartment, and even ventured out to speak with a neighbour or two, none of whom recognise him as The Mad Hatter. it's a queer feeling, not seeing fear reflected in the eyes of those around him...and it gives him a quiet thrill which makes him forget himself, leaving Jervis grinning far too wide.

🎩 still, Jervis is a man with certain compulsions. he's partial to an afternoon walk, and at 3 o'clock exactly makes his way out into his new city, looking for nothing in particular and simply enjoying air without walls. however, he soon comes across a quaint little teashop, its sign scrawled in a delightful Shakespearean font and the windows ringed with English ivy. "How serendipitous," Jervis murmurs to himself. "I shan't pass up an opportunity such as this...after all, you'd only have to whisper a hint to Time, and round goes the clock in a twinkling!"

🎩 Jervis orders his usual beverage without incident and takes a seat which gives him an excellent view of the whole teashop. his discerning blue eyes scan the room, but it isn't until he's cleared half the customers that he realises he was searching for a glimpse of Alice's golden hair. Jervis sighs, and takes a long, sad sip of his tea—only to splutter when he spots You in the corner of the room. You are tucked up with your legs crossed, your nose buried in a book. there's a little half-smile on your face, and Jervis watches with interest as you chuckle at something you read. he stares at You and the book, and an icy chill of recognition works its way down his spine.

🎩 before he can stop himself, Jervis abandons his tea and makes his way over to You. for a full minute he looms over You quite unnoticed, so absorbed You are by your book. after quietly clearing his throat does not catch your attention, Jervis opts to take the direct approach. "Excuse me, my dear." You look up, curious. Jervis smiles with all his teeth—too bright, too intense. "I do hope you'll forgive my impudence, interrupting you on a fine day such as this. But may I ask...what are you reading?"

🎩 "Oh!" You say with a giggle. You turn the book towards Jervis, revealing the cover. "I'm reading Alice's Adventures in Wonderland. It's my favourite story."

#jervis tetch x reader #mad hatter x reader #jervis tetch x you #mad hatter x you #jervis tetch #mad hatter #the mad hatter #batman: the animated series #btas #batman #x reader #starleskasks #starleskawrites #long post #alice pleasance

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sixhours · 1 month

Text

One Day at a Time - Chapter 4 - Gestation

Series Chapter Index | Read on AO3 | Complete

Rating: Explicit, 18+, here be smut Series tags: The Last of Us, The Last of Us (HBO), Joel Miller x f!OFC, Joel & Ellie, mostly follows canon, SMUT, gratuitous smut, dubious consent (drunk sex), unplanned pregnancy, fluff, references to past miscarriages, angst, hurt/comfort, romance, age gap (~21 years), childbirth, fluffy baby stuff, I've probably forgotten some so please let me know <3

~*~

He’s browsing at the trading post when he sees Charlie again. He’s checked off 14 more days in his little calendar, and each time he picks up the pen, it stirs a bittersweet feeling of anticipation and sheer terror in his gut.

He’s picking over the trades, looking for new sneakers for Ellie, when his eyes fall on something else.

Footed pajamas, impossibly tiny, the little plastic price tag still clipped to the sleeve. His hand drifts over the yellow fabric, faded but minky soft. Warm. Good for winter.

Sarah had pajamas like this once…a sleep suit with a hood and little round ears peeking up from the top. He hasn’t thought about that outfit in…well, decades. The memory of her toddling toward him with those silly little ears poking up from her downy head is so vivid that he can almost hear her trill of laughter and he has to lean on the table to catch his breath, the yellow onesie still clutched in his hand.

“Joel? Are you okay?”

Charlie’s voice comes from over his shoulder, snapping him out of his reverie, and he turns around.

“Yeah…yeah just, uh…yeah, m’fine. What’re you doin’ here?”

He hides the pajamas behind him, balling them up in one large fist.

She holds up a white package. “Heard they had TP. Figured I’d better get down here and snag a roll before it was all gone. You?”

“Lookin’ for stuff for Ellie.”

“Find anything good?”

“She won’t think so.”

Charlie smirks. “Teenagers, huh?”

“Yeah,” he says, shoving the onesie deep into his bag and making for the counter. He drops off a sack of old clothes into the donation bin, all the stuff Ellie has outgrown, and watches as Charlie does the same with her trades.

They find themselves outside, the warmth of late spring making everything smell fresh and green. Charlie’s button-down shirt floats over her jeans in such a way as to hide her midsection, but her proportions have changed. Her face is fuller, her breasts are swollen, and her skin looks so soft and smooth and—

He coughs and looks away, feeling a brief wash of shame for noticing her. Again.

“So you’re, uh…still…”

“Yeah…I’m still,” she says.

“That’s good,” he says, and means it. “Feelin’ okay?”

She shrugs. “A little tired…but yeah. I feel better. So far, so good, I guess.”

He nods thoughtfully and bites his lip, thinking of the calendar next to his bed. He can almost hear the days falling away.

“Look, I…uh…I shoulda said somethin’ before now. I…know I haven’t been the most…uh…I’m not trying to get out of…anything.”

She blinks up at him, brow furrowed, waiting for him to make sense. He winces, rubbing at the back of his neck.

“I wanna help,” he tries again. “However I can. I know it’s not easy goin’ it alone,” he says, looking down at the bag with Ellie’s clothes and the onesie tucked at the bottom. Then he’s thinking of Sarah, of long nights spent pacing and rocking and soothing.

“You’ve done enough.”

“Oh,” he chokes out. “Uh, I, uh…s’pose I deserve that.”

Her eyes widen, cheeks turning a faint pink. Now it’s her turn to fumble her words.

“Oh…I didn’t mean it like that. I meant…you’ve been good. You’ve helped. I–shit. I’m sorry.”

There’s a painfully awkward silence as this sinks in and he bites back a smirk.

“We’re pretty fuckin’ bad at this, huh?”

“Yes,” she sighs. “We are.”

This admission seems to ease something between them. Before he can lose his nerve, he continues.

“Could I come to your next appointment? Is that somethin’ people still do?”

She nods slowly, considering this. “I have one next week. It’s not very exciting, but…you could come with me.”

“I’d like that.”

“I’m not sure you will,” she says. “The midwife is…intense.”

“I’ve heard,” he says. “I think I can handle it.”

~*~

He can’t handle it.

The midwife, Joanie, is cold and abrupt and downright abrasive. He can’t imagine this person welcoming anyone, let alone his future child, into the world. He wants to put his arm around Charlie, turn her around, and tell her they’ll find someone else.

But he can’t. Jackson has one midwife. And the town doctor is a 76-year-old man who “doesn’t do babies”.

The woman is dressed in a long, flowing caftan, gray hair pulled neatly into a braid down her back. She looks like a hippie but her eyes are sharp, and her tongue is sharper.

“You brought the boyfriend this time,” she says as Charlie settles on the makeshift exam bed, a chaise lounge with a sheet draped over it. Joel can’t help but notice that Charlie doesn’t bother correcting her.

“You can sit,” Joanie says to him, gesturing to the chair next to the chaise. When he doesn’t move, she throws her hands up. “Or keep hovering. Whatever.”

Joel crosses his arms and barely restrains a snarl. Charlie shoots him a look as she slides her unbuttoned jeans down to her hips.

I told you.

The woman performs a cursory physical exam in silence. It’s obvious they’ve done this routine several times, and neither seems to feel the need to explain it to Joel.

The midwife is frowning, digging into Charlie’s belly with pointed, demanding fingers, feeling around until Charlie winces. Joel clenches a fist at his side, resisting the urge to snap at the woman for being so careless and rough.

“Growth is on track. You’re measuring at sixteen weeks.”

She pulls out a speaker attached to a wand–he vaguely recognizes it from appointments with Sarah’s mother at the beginning–and a tube of gel. She covers Charlie’s lower abdomen with goop and presses the wand in, levering it this way and that, seeking the sound of a second heart. There’s a long moment where he thinks they won’t find it–that this will be the day it all goes to hell.

But then there’s a familiar but distant echo, a rapid pulse of sound, the memory coming back to him across thirty-five years and an apocalypse. It’s the sound that once filled a small room in a sterile hospital. He remembers it as a black-and-white flutter on the ultrasound screen, fast and vigorous and alive .

Mine , he thinks dimly. He sinks into the chair because his legs no longer want to hold him.

The midwife, satisfied she’s found what she’s looking for, holds the wand steady and looks at her watch. It’s the shortest fifteen seconds of Joel’s life and he doesn’t want it to end.

“One-twenty-six. You can sit up.”

Charlie does. Joel notices she doesn’t bother trying to button her jeans. He vaguely remembers Sarah’s mother needing soft, stretchy things, and wonders if Charlie has anything like that.

“Any cramping?” Joanie asks, flipping through a file.

“No.”

“Still bleeding?”

Charlie hesitates for a fraction of a second. “A little. Not every day.”

Joel’s eyes snap to her at that, but she’s not looking at him.

The midwife frowns. “Given your advanced maternal age and your history, I don’t like to hear that.”

Her sharp eyes focus on Joel. “You’re, what, sixty?”

��Fifty-seven.”

“Mmm. Sperm quality after fifty is a crapshoot,” she sighs. “You’re looking at an increased risk of genetic defects.”

Joel grips the arm of the chaise hard enough to rip it from the frame. He’s going to kill this woman.

“Look, I’ll be honest with you,” she continues. “Maternal-fetal medicine in this country was a shitshow before cordyceps, and the pandemic might as well have sent us back to the dark ages. I’ve seen one death for every five live births. Maternal survival rates are better, but only slightly.”

She’s looking at Charlie. “I can’t tell you you’re going to be okay. I can’t tell you your baby is going to be okay. I can only tell you what I think will help your chances and then…we wait and see.”

Charlie nods, her face drawn into a flat, emotionless mask as she takes this in.

“No more patrols. Light duty work only. No lifting. I can give you a doctor’s note for the council to reassign you if your regular job is too strenuous. No sex,” she says, looking pointedly at Joel. “And if the bleeding gets worse–if it’s bad enough that you need a pad–you go on bed rest immediately.”

Her eyes shift back to Joel. “Stress is a baby-killer. Your job is to take care of her and make sure there is no stress. None. If you can’t do that, you need to find someone who can.”

He grinds his teeth so hard he thinks he hears a molar crack.

“We’re done. I’ll see you next week,” she says dismissively.

And then Charlie’s off the chaise and ushering him to the door before he can open his mouth to give the woman hell and they’re stepping out into the rain. They make it to the end of the street before he stops her with a hand on her shoulder.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he says, hating the way his voice shakes, recognizing the animal clawing within his chest as barely contained rage.

“I did–I warned you,” she frowns. “She’s rough.”

“No–I mean, the bleeding. You said you were fine.”

“I was. I am,” she says flatly. “You heard the heartbeat.”

“S’not what I meant and you know it,” he hisses.

Her lip curls in a snarl. “You fucked me once . You think that gives you the right to—to everything?”

He blinks. “That’s not what I said.”

“Then what are you saying?”

When he can’t answer, she turns and walks away. The sight of her retreating back hunched against the rain only serves to stoke the fire of his anger further. Her shirt is getting soaked.

Where the fuck is her jacket? She’s going to get sick.

He catches up and grabs her by the arm, turning her around and holding her in place.

“You heard her. How am I supposed to take care of you if you won’t fuckin’ let me?”

Only then does he see the tears in her eyes, rain mingling with salt on her cheeks. Guilt stabs at him and he loosens his grip.

“I don’t know,” she hisses. “I can’t just…be that person with you. I don’t fucking know you! I don’t even know your middle name, but we’re having a fucking baby. Or maybe we’re not, because our odds are shit, and I should have taken care of this when I had the chan–”

The words hit like a punch to the gut. Without thinking, he pulls her to him, wrapping her in his arms until he’s holding her in the middle of the street. “Stop. Please.”

She shudders but doesn’t push him away. The sky rumbles, threatening a downpour.

He ducks his head, speaking softly. “It’s Arthur.”

She snorts into his shoulder. “What?”

“My middle name. S’Arthur. After my grandfather.”

She makes a noise that sounds like a sob…or a laugh. He can’t tell. The sound stirs a frantic need within him and he grips her by the shoulders.

“Move in with me.”

“What? No.”

“Just until the kid gets here. Let me take care of you both.”

She looks up at him, eyes ringed with dark circles. A raindrop splashes on the tip of her nose and drips into the divot above her upper lip.

“Do you even want this? I need to hear you say it.”

Any lingering anger melts away. He thinks of the soft yellow onesie still tucked into the bottom of his pack.

“I do,” he says, hoping the two little words are enough to hold her, to convince her.

She ducks her head with a watery sigh, close enough for her hair to brush at his chest. “Let me think about it.”

He nods. “Alright, but…not too long, okay? You’re, uh…”

He trails off as the back of his hand touches her stomach, just grazing the fabric over her bellybutton, before dropping back to his side.

She sniffs. “Yeah. I’m well aware we’re on a schedule.”

“Okay…okay then,” he nods, resuming their walk toward town. They’ve almost reached the trading post when she speaks again.

“It’s Sarah, by the way.”

The name takes his breath as it always does, pulls at that black hole in his heart that even Ellie can’t completely fill.

“I don’t under–”

“My middle name,” she sniffs. “You didn’t ask, but…it’s Sarah.”

He doesn’t trust himself to speak, just ducks his chin in a nod. Sarah. Of course it’s Sarah.

“C’mon,” he says. “Let’s get out of the rain.”

~*~

That night, she appears on his porch. The rain has let up, but her hair is still damp, matted to her temples.

“I’ll stay with you,” she says without preamble. “Under one condition.”

He blinks. “Anything.”

“We don’t talk about the kid. No names, no what-ifs…no…playing house. I can’t do any of that,” she says. “We take it one day at a time and…see what happens.”

“If that’s what you want,” he says, swallowing hard.

She nods, satisfied. “Alright. I can bring some stuff by tomorrow.”

“Good. That’d be good. But I uh, need to tell Ellie,” he pauses, thinking. “Can I make dinner for you? For the three of us, I mean?”

She raises an eyebrow.

“Not playin’ house or whatever,” he clarifies, feeling a blush creep up his neck. “Just…figured the news might go down better with food.”

She nods slowly. “I could do that.”

“You like spaghetti? S’Ellie’s favorite and it’s hard for me to fuck it up.”

“I like spaghetti,” she says, smiling a little. “I get off work at six.”

“Tomorrow,” he says. “Six. See you then.”

~*~

That night, instead of staring at the ceiling during his usual sleepless hours, he moves most of his clothes into the spare bedroom closet and cleans his stuff out of the attached bathroom.

As he works, he thinks of Charlie’s unbuttoned jeans straining around her womb and the climbing summer temperatures. Soon there would be no hiding her stomach under a jacket or sweater.

Jackson was friendly, but it was still a small town. People got bored and they talked, and anyone who paid attention would have seen Charlie and Joel together. There were already enough rumors about Tommy Miller’s broody older brother and his mysterious adopted daughter, the one who wore long sleeves even on the hottest days and carried a switchblade.

Ellie.

Another pang of guilt gnaws in his gut. He’d done enough damage to their relationship as it was, and now he’s about to drop a fucking bomb.

He finds himself knocking on the garage door the next morning, hands rubbing restlessly at the thighs of his jeans as he waits for her to answer. He realizes it’s been a few days since he’s talked with her beyond a simple “hello” in passing, or to pass the salt at dinner, or to ask where she’d put the TV remote. He chides himself; Ellie is independent by nature, but she’s still a kid, still his responsibility. She’s never going to trust him again if–

She answers the door, rubbing her eyes and blinking owlishly up at him. She looks so young when she first wakes up, hair tousled, sleep lines on her cheeks.

“Hey, I uh…we’re, uh…having dinner at the house tonight. Makin’ your favorite. Spaghetti.”

She raises an eyebrow. Joel doesn’t usually cook if he can help it; the caf is easier and less prone to burning things. “What’s the occasion?”

He swallows hard. “There’s somethin’ I need to talk to you about. And…Charlie will be there.”

“Ooooo-kay,” she yawns. “Love a good third wheel situation, I guess.”

“S’not like that,” he shakes his head. “She’s just a friend.”

“Yeah, I bet,” she smirks, then sighs dramatically. “I guess I can make room in my packed social calendar for dinner. As long as it’s spaghetti. Maria’s sauce, right? ‘Cause yours is…yikes.”

She sticks her tongue out to drive the point home.

He snorts softly. “Yeah. Maria’s sauce. And garlic bread.”

“Cool.”

He nods, and the moment draws itself out, that awful, awkward, twisting silence filled with all the things he can’t say.

“So…was there something else?” she asks. “I gotta get ready for school.”

“No…nope,” he mutters. “I guess not. I’ll see you tonight, kiddo.”

~*~

He doesn’t quite burn the garlic bread, but it’s pretty fucking dark. He’s scraping the crumbs into the sink when Charlie appears at the door with a salad in hand and a backpack slung over her shoulder. She’s wearing an oversized blue button-down over soft black leggings. For comfort’s sake, he hopes the jeans have been retired for a while.

“Thanks,” he says, taking the bag, frowning at its weight. “You’re not s’posed to be lifting stuff.”

“I can handle a bag of clothes.”

He grunts, gestures to the salad. “You can put that on the table. Ellie’ll be over in a few.”

“Anything I can help with?”

“You can sit,” he says, perhaps too gruffly, placing her pack by the stairs. On the stove, the reheated marinara starts to bubble, spitting red flecks. He rushes to take it off the heat.

Ellie arrives just as Joel is setting the last bowl on the table. She nods in a wary greeting to Charlie, then helps herself to spaghetti and salad and bread.

“So what’s up?” she asks around a mouthful of food, forgoing any small talk—his kid, through and through.

Joel swallows hard, looks at Charlie, who simply shrugs as if to say this is your show .

He opens his mouth but the words are stubborn and nothing seems right.

You’re going to be a big sister.

Your old man is going to be a dad again.

I fucked up and we’re having a baby.

He’d never had to worry about this with Sarah. On the rare occasion a date went further than dinner, he’d been cautious to a fault. He’d been considering a vasectomy before the pandemic but time and savings were sparse. He probably could have had the procedure done back in the QZ, but Tess had been his only partner, and she’d had a hysterectomy in her thirties. An operation that would put him out of commission for any length of time seemed like an unnecessary waste of ration cards.

He realizes he’s lost in thought, and they’re both watching him, still waiting.

“So, uh…Charlie’s gonna move in with me for a bit,” he says. “I’m givin’ her my room, and I’ll take your old one…if that’s okay.”

Ellie narrows her eyes. “You two aren’t… together ?”

“No,” Joel mutters, meeting Charlie’s eyes across the table. “S’temporary. She just needs a place for a bit.”

“Weird, but…fine with me,” Ellie shrugs, then turns to Charlie. “Joel’s good at taking in strays, it’s kinda his thing. Case in point.”

Charlie smiles a little at this, takes a sip of her water.

“She’s, uh, gonna have a baby,” Joel continues, focused on his plate, pushing the food around.

“Oh shit, congrats!” Ellie grins at Charlie, then looks back at Joel. He can’t meet her eyes.

There’s a heavy silence. Joel grips his fork until the design in the handle makes an imprint in his palm. He waits for Ellie to do what she does so well, to pick up the hints, put the pieces together, and say the things he can’t.

“Wait,” Ellie says, looking back and forth between them, mouth dropping open in a scandalized O .

“You didn’t—”

She coughs then, choking on a mouthful of food, and fumbles frantically for her water glass.

“Joel,” she says when she can speak again. “Tell me you didn’t.”

All he can offer is a tiny shrug.

“Holy shit ,” she breathes, fork clattering to her plate. “You slut !”

Not for the first time, Joel wishes she had a proper full name–Elspeth, Eleanor, Elizabeth, Eliza–anything that, combined with a solid middle name, made for a convincing and forceful reprimand.

“Sarah Elizabeth Miller” was always effective when his first kid was being a little shit, even if he rarely had to use it.

As it is, he can only growl Ellie’s short-and-sweet name under his breath and watch it roll right off her back. She doesn’t miss a beat.

“Wow, I can’t…I mean, you just said you weren’t even together –”

“We’re not,” he grates out. “It was a…a one-time thing.”

His face is so hot, he can practically feel the vein throbbing at his temple. He wonders if his second kid will give him a fucking aneurysm before his third kid can even be born.

“Thanks for that, now I need to bleach my fucking brain,” she says. “Gross. So, so gross. Dude, you’re like, sixty .”

“I’m fifty-seven,” he grumbles.

“Yeah, so really fucking old . Do you not know how babies are made ? FEDRA school was shit but even they taught us how to put on a fucking condom—”

“Ellie, we didn’t—“

“Don’t, dude. Just stop. You’re really fucked up, you know that? Like, I know I have issues, but this is fuckin’—”

She’s interrupted by a muffled snort from the other side of the table. Charlie has clapped a hand over her mouth and her eyes are brimming with tears. She’s going to fucking cry because his kid is an asshole and he is an even bigger asshole and this has gone all fifteen kinds of wrong.

Joel would like to die, right now, face down in a plate of spaghetti with his face the color of marinara—anything to end this godawful conversation.

“I’m sorry,” Charlie gasps, and it dawns on him that she’s not crying at all–she’s struggling not to laugh. “I’m so sorry. It’s just, I haven’t–this is just–holy shit .”

She breaks out into a peal of giggles, leaving both Joel and Ellie in stunned silence.

“I’m sorry,” she says again, heaving and hiccuping as she tries to catch her breath. “Everything has been so awful and serious and…this is just so…so…fucking funny –”

Ellie blinks, looking back and forth between Joel and Charlie in wide-eyed amazement.

Something in Joel’s chest unfurls from its tight, anxious knot, and when he meets Charlie’s eyes, he can’t help but return her grin.

“You two are fucked ,” Ellie pronounces, but there’s a slow smile spreading across her face.

“We are,” Joel agrees. “We’re fucked.”

“Totally fucked,” Charlie agrees, then giggles again.

Ellie shakes her head in disbelief, digging back into her spaghetti. “Welcome to the fucking family, I guess.”

~*~

Joel shows up for work the next day feeling lighter than he has in weeks. He’d finally slept . Ellie, while completely disgusted, hadn’t disowned him; she’d even hugged him before returning to the garage. And Charlie had made herself at home, joining him on the couch to watch a movie after dinner.

Maybe this could fucking work.

His newfound peace lasts about as long as it takes for Tommy to find him and clap him on the shoulder.

“What’s this I hear about you takin’ in strays?”

Joel scowls, picking up an extension cord and trying to untangle it from a pile of the things. “Don’t believe everythin’ you hear.”

“So Charlie isn’t shackin’ up with you, then?”

“S’not like that. It’s temporary.”

“Uh-huh.”

He shoots his brother a look over his shoulder, weighing his options. The rumor mill isn’t churning as fast as he thought or Tommy would be all over it by now. He rolls his eyes, knowing what comes next will be just about as bearable as a tooth extraction, aware he can’t put it off any longer.

“She’s gonna have a kid.”

“Right,” Tommy snorts. “Your kid?”

Joel turns and holds his brother’s gaze.

“Holy shit,” Tommy breathes. “You’re serious?”

“You’re gonna be an uncle again,” Joel says dryly.

Tommy whistles. “Well, don’t that just beat all. How the hell–”

“The usual way,” Joel grumbles, turning back to his work. “Can we not do this here?”

But Tommy has never been easily deterred. He practically launches himself at his brother for a bone-crushing hug while half the work crew looks on, bemused.

“Christ, get offa me.”

Tommy doesn’t. When he finally pulls away, grinning and gripping Joel’s shoulders, he’s almost teary-eyed.

“Maria’s gonna be thrilled.”

“I doubt it,” Joel mutters, thinking he’s already not held in high esteem by his sister-in-law. Knocking up a girl twenty years his junior is hardly going to redeem him.

“Does Ellie know?”

“Yeah, we told her last night. She’s…about as excited as you’d expect.”

“Damn. I can’t—I mean, I always thought—after—“

Tommy sobers, and the word lingers heavy between them.

After .

“I know,” Joel says, realizing with a dull ache that his brother is the only other person alive who understands the gravity of the situation…the only one who knew Sarah as more than a sad story in their history.

Joel closes his eyes and sees his brother at twenty, Sarah’s tiny arms wrapped around his neck as she clings to his back, laughing wildly as he dives through the sprinklers on the front lawn.

He blinks the memory away, busies himself with the extension cord again. He doesn’t even remember what he wanted it for, but he needs to do something with his hands.

“But it’s good, right? This is good,” Tommy says, finally breaking the silence.

“Yeah,” Joel swallows hard. “It’s good.”

Tommy grins, then frowns just as quickly. “Oh, man. The midwife–”

“Yeah, she’s awful.”

“Maria damn near killed her when Izzy was born.”

“‘Bout ready to myself,” Joel mutters.

“And…you and Charlie ain’t…?”

Joel glares at him in answer.

“Alright, brother. Damn, man. A kid…and at your age…”

Tommy laughs and ducks just in time to avoid the extension cord as it whips by his head.

#fanfic #fic recs #joel miller #the last of us hbo #the last of us #babyfic #pregnancy #tlou fanfic #tlou fic

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