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ponderingmoonlight · 13 days

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Chapter 2: Negotiating Fate - Reluctant Alliance in a New Realm

Pairing: Gojo x fem!reader

Warnings: reader's death, language

Genre: Isekai, Romance, Fantasy

Synopsis: Your life takes a tragic turn as you perish in a car crash, only to awaken in a whimsical world of fantasy with none other than Jujustu Kaisen characters as its main protagonists. But as if that wasn't enough, you're about to marry the prince version of Gojo Satoru. How will you navigate through this world of history and fantasy? Does your life take the same sudden twist of fate as that of your favorite characters?

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“Tell me about the part where she left you standing in the rain again.”

„Are you out of your mind? Get back into the salon right now, (y/n)!”

“My decision stands. I won’t marry a man like Gojo Satoru.”

Your brother spun you around with ease, his hand wrapped around your wrist so tightly that your bones cracked underneath his rough touch while Gojo stayed back inside the salon, visibly surprised by your rejection.

“He is the prince. Don’t you know how lucky you are that he even considers taking you as his wife?”, your brother hissed through gritted teeth, venom spitting from his threatening orbs.

“That doesn’t change the fact that I don’t want him, doesn’t it?”

“She looked at me with a determination in her eyes I never saw in a woman before, told me she won’t marry me and stormed away without another word”, Satoru repeats while his finger glides up and down his chin thoughtfully.

What an unusual experience. Not only for his status as prince, but the given fact that he has a gorgeous face and a well-toned body, all women were head over heels for him since he was young. But you…you looked at him with such disinterest that he can’t stop thinking about you. You, a member of the Zenin family. Even though you already live a carefree life in one of the wealthiest and most influential families of this country, a marriage with a prince would have been your coup, the greatest honor you could bring to your family.

He chuckles.

And you rejected him.

He can’t be mad at his best friend for laughing out loud while shaking his head.

“I never thought I would witness a woman rejecting you. And that as a daughter of the Zenin family, a truly brave Lady”, Suguru finally comments in sheer amusement.

“I wonder why she left so suddenly. She didn’t even give me the chance to explain myself, let alone introduce me properly. You know what she called me?”

“You are nothing but a philanderer, a pompous prince who thinks he rules the world just by the power of his bright blue eyes. Excuse my harsh words, but I am not the one for you, prince.”

“A pompous?”, Satoru repeated, a smile creeping up his face.

“Yes, a pompous. Now excuse me, I was actually busy when you arrived. Have a pleasant travel back home, Prince Satoru.”

“Your reputation seems to precede you, my friend”, Suguru replies before breaking out in laughter again.

Satoru slides forward in his chair, eyes narrowed in a desperate attempt to hold onto the memories of your flawless face. What a remarkable woman you are, truly outstanding in contrast to the usual monotone Ladies he has to endure. It’s not a secret to anyone that he enjoys female company, always surrounded by multiple women at once. But a pompous? It was never more than a friendly talk or two, he never invited one of those boring girls into his sheets.

“We’ll see how this goes, Suguru. Maybe she will come back to her senses, after all.”

“Are you out of your mind, (y/n)?”, none other than your father shouts at you.

You can’t help but swallow hard. His sheer presence alone sends shivers down your spine, well-aware of the fact how threatening the man standing only inches away from you can be.

“Just what I expected. I always knew you are useless, sister. Your only job is to marry the prince and you are even unable to do that”, your brother spits at you.

“Are you even aware of how much time it cost me to arrange the prince of this country visiting you? Are you even aware how much money I spent on your education, your clothes, your maids? Listen to my words: You will marry the prince, (y/n). Or else I will show the world who you really are. Out of all people, you should know best what this world does with people who inherit special powers. You will burn at the stake like your mother.”

You swallow hard, all air drained from your lungs. The way his eyes gleam at you tell you all too urgently that he is serious about his words. Your mother…She was never mentioned in the manga or anime. Is Naobito Zenin cruel enough to kill the mother of his own children? And most importantly, what are those special powers he was talking about? Is this…jujutsu? Are you…a jujutsu sorcerer in this world?

“I am your daughter”, you press out, the hurts almost not leaving your tongue.

“Would you really kill me over a broken engagement?”

“Dear (y/n). I don’t care about who you are. The only reason you are alive until this day is my plan to marry you into royalty. Apart from that, I have no use for you.”

He grabs your arm so roughly that you can’t escape, the stinging smell of alcohol coming from his hot breath almost causing you to choke. In this situation with no way out, the painful truth draws to you.

It doesn’t matter if you really hold special powers you are unaware of in this world or that you are his daughter. If you don’t play along, you will die all over again. Just like you did in your first life…

The glowing headlights of the car crash into you over and over in your mind. The feeling of your bones cracking, your blood discolouring the street crimson, how your heart stopped beating, the violent screams of your friends.

You shake your head vehemently, glossy eyes widen in sheer horror. You don’t want to die all over again, not when you were given this unique second chance. There has to be a way out of this misery. Maybe…Maybe…

“Then allow me to visit the prince myself and fix this situation.”

You still refuse to live a life on Gojo Satoru’s side when there are men like Geto or Nanami. But you will find a solution. After all, this is still somehow the Jujutsu Kaisen universe you know so well, right? You just have to. You won’t throw away your newfound life so easily.

“Now look at that”, he purrs to himself while holding up the piece of paper than informs him about your visit.

You didn’t even wait for his reply. As his valet said, your carriage is already on its way. What made you change your mind?

How ridiculous to even ask this question. Your family is known for being strict, especially when it comes to their female members. Your brother and father probably forced you to rethink your situation and showed you your place. As a woman, you have no worth apart from marrying into a wealthy family. Since the day you were born, your father always tried to find a way for you and therefore himself into royalty. Your whole education was built around the thought that you might become queen someday.

And you rejected his wish by rejecting Gojo Satoru himself.

“Let’s see what you have to tell me, (y/n)”, he mutters to himself.

“Your Majesty, Lady-“

“Good day, Your Majesty. I am deeply grateful for this renewed meeting”, you speak out while you bow politely in the door.

Your heart almost beats out of your chest. It takes all your strength to stop your palms from getting sweaty, to not ruin your makeup out of excitement. Oh, you truly don’t want to be here right now. It is all too clear that you are capable of living a happy life without a man by your side. You’ve been alone your entire life, didn’t care about a male ever before.

And Gojo Satoru is no exception, even in the form of an influential prince.

You bite your lip, fingernails digging into your gloved hands. But still, you depend on his help and understanding at this very moment. If he doesn’t agree on helping you on his own…

You will have to find a way to force him into it.

“I am delighted to see you again, Lady (y/n). Even though this is the only option after you gave me no choice”, he replies with a slight grin.

That bastard. The gleam in his eyes makes it all too clear that he is very aware of why you decided to pay him a visit. With the movement of his hand, he orders you to sit down on an expensive-looking…what is this called? A canapé? He sits down opposite of you, eyes fixated on yours.

“It was truly surprising hearing from you after you rejected me so boldly earlier this morning.”

His words sting like knives, force your eyes to narrow. Well, maybe because you were literally forced here to fix the engagement you don’t want.

You take a deep breath. Catch yourself. If you want someone like Gojo Satoru to give you another chance, you have to stay strong.

“I rethought my decision the second you left. I would love to accept your engagement, Prince Satoru. But only under one condition.”

He tilts his head to the side in surprise. You, having conditions for an engagement with the Prince? How unusual. But the gleam in your lavender eyes tell him that you mean what you say.

“Please enlighten me, Lady (y/n).”

All of the sudden, your fingertips start shaking. You dig your nails into your thighs, take a few deep breaths in and out. Please, just say yes. Please don’t ask any further questions.

“As we will be considered engaged on the outside for the sake of both of our peace, I will follow the duties as the Prince’s fiancé at any official occasion. But I will never have any romantical interest in you, I do not wish to share more time than needed with you by my side. I still don’t want to marry you as well as you aren’t interested in being tied to a single woman. This agreement would benefit both of us and will be dissolved as soon as it no longer has any use.”

Thick silence hangs in the room, tension within reach. He slides forwards, amusement glimmering in his bright blue orbs.

“I respectfully decline your offer, Lady (y/n). Have a pleasant travel back home”, he replies before getting up and making his way out of the room.

For a moment, the world stops spinning, you are too stunned to speak. Did he just…refuse your offer? But why? You always thought he would be the last person who wants to marry a single woman. And if your father pressures you into a marriage, a prince like him is definitely forced to marry soon as well. It is clear that this benefits both of you…So why? Out of instinct, you jump up, hands clenched into fists.

“If you don’t accept…”

Gojo Satoru stops right in his tracks, head moving to the side ever so slightly.

“I will uncover that you are in possession of special powers. I will destroy your reputation and therefore your chances for the throne. So, do we have a deal? ”

Do they have a deal? Find out in next chapter! Let me thank y'all for your amazing support for chapter 1 and this whole idea. I'm beyond excited to share this fic with you and let me tell you the plot will go INSANE with this one - stay tuned! Tags: @m0k0k0 @lees-chaotic-brain @sanicsmut @risuola @fire-loving-siren @sunshine7queen @gatitam @kentocalls @hellkaiserinphoenix @skylarlyn823 @livmarauder @nothisispatrick300 @haileycannotcometothephonern @xstom

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the-kr8tor · 1 month

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Sink or Swim

Pairing: Pirate! Hobie Brown x fem! Reader

Total Word Count: 16k

Tags: Use of Y/N sparsely, no specific physical description of the reader (except for her clothing), Hobie is mentioned taller than R, CW food mentions, CW suggestive, TW blood, CW injury, CW miscarriage mention, TW violence.

A/N: I've divided this chapter into two because of how long it is and tumblr wouldn't let me draft the post without the app crashing. So sorry for the inconvenience. I'll put the link at the end and on top.

Between the Devil and the Sea Masterlist

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CHAPTER 13 >>> CHAPTER 13 II

Hobie's throat feels like he swallowed glass. Yet, he screams until his lungs give out, until his body gives out. Fist pounding into steel, skin splitting, blood staining the metal, he continues to call for you. His ears could only hear your frantic yells, his name falling out of your lips, vomited out desperately, asking for him, calling for him to get you out.

He kicks and thrashes at the metal bars, his mind imagines the worst— nails ripped from your fingers, bones breaking, skin scraped and slashed. He doesn't need to imagine how it could feel for he had lived through it all, survived through sheer will alone. But he promised, he promised to you and in that hollow grave that it will never be filled with your body; that your own blood wouldn't spill in between his fingers.

Yet, like the knife that he is, like the one who breaks skin and bleeds everything he touches— he hurt you, shot you where you stood, when he should've protected you, shielded you from the bullet. But how could he do it when the bullet is from him? When he used the same weapon that has ended dozens of lives to protect his crew, to harm you; the only person he deems worthy of telling all his secrets, you, who is worth more than every single treasure in the world.

Maybe he should've listened to you and stayed on the island.

Hobie calls for you once again, in hopes that you hear him too, in hopes that his voice is enough to bring you hope. The lighthouse that guides you home. But he knows, he knows all you could hear are muffled sounds and the creaking from the rocking ship.

Your voice wavers, like you've been forcefully silenced. So he does the screaming for you. It's loud, tone furious, ready to scratch at anyone who gets closer.

“Hobie—” Gwen tries to get his attention as the door opens, revealing the two guards staying in the doorway, keeping their distance.

Guns are strapped to them, knives glinting in the lamp light, armed to the teeth. Hobie knows it's all for him.

“Shut the fuck up.” One frustratingly said, teeth clenched, hands kneading at his temples.

“Keep screaming and you won't get supper.” The bigger one utters, the large scar on his cheek tightens as Hobie taunts them with a grim smile. The smile he reserves to strike fear.

They stiffen in the doorway, shoulders straight, hands reaching for their weapons.

“Do it then.” Hobie says, voice guttural, hands gripping the bars. “End the screaming.” His sheer tone alone sends everyone's hair to stand upright.

No one in the crew dares to stop Hobie. He doesn't know if they're afraid just like the men in front of him or if they're biding their time to scratch and bite too.

“Come closer and end it.” He doesn't yell, and that terrifies the men in the doorway. “And you'll find out exactly what I did to Admiral Kinney all those years ago.” He can still taste the admiral's ichor on his tongue.

The hulking men share a look, sweat dripping off their brows. And with that, they shut the door behind them, returning to their post with their tails tucked between their legs.

“Cowards.”

If it wasn't a grim situation, James would've laughed.

Hobie hears Gwen sigh behind him, the liquid in her hand sloshes as she practically shoves it in his face.

“At least drink some water. For your throat.”

“No, ‘m not drinking that slop.”

Gwen has had enough, she takes him by the collar, eyes bravely glaring at her captain. “If you want to leave this ship and save her, then drink the slop, eat the fucking bread and keep your goddamn energy for when we get the window to escape. Screaming won't help, captain. It's not helping anyone.” Her jaw is set, eyebrows knitted together.

The rest of the crew stand on the side, ready to get between them if it gets physical. He'll never hurt Gwen, never even thought of it. But he can't stand the thought of his family standing against him rather than next to him. So he fixes it, you'd like it that way.

Hobie gingerly takes the cup, chugging it down in one gulp.

“Good, now eat some bread and sit down.”

“Y/N—” he starts.

“She'll be alright, she's a fighter ain't she?” He nods, “you know her better than us, so tell us, cap'n, that she will survive this.”

He roams his red eyes at his sparse crew. For a brief second he sees the ones he lost behind them. For the first time, he's glad he doesn't see you with them.

Returning his attention towards Gwen, he utters the words with the confidence of a captain.

“She'll survive this.”

—

Sitting down in the corner, he rests his poor throat, the dry bread didn't help much. It was shitty to say the least, times like this, he misses Finn. He'd beat him if he ever knew that he let the famous bloodsail pirates into the hands of a former admiral and you into the hands of someone you fear the most.

Hobie shuts his eyes for a second, he swears it's only for a second but when he wakes up with a start and the door opening with a creak, the moon is already shining outside the large boat.

When he sees you appear by the doorway, he thinks he's still dreaming.

“Ten,” He hears you say between gritted teeth. All he could focus on is you, checking for signs of an injury, he starts from your head—nothing, arms, also nothing, save for a few scratches. Then he settles on your bandaged leg, and he remembers what he did, what he did to you. Guilt and grief overtakes his body, he tries his best to hide into the background, into the wooden walls, to become part of the ship, to hide his shame. Because he hurt you, and he'll never forgive himself for what he did.

Hobie watches from his corner, defeated when you tell him subtly that you're alright. And when you called for him, called his name softly like summer wind breezing by, warm and reminding him of home— he couldn't help but oblige.

Who is he to deny the sky?

When you held him in your hands, he felt anew. Apologies spill from his mouth, eyes forlorn at the red spot on your bandages.

What is the tides without his moon?

He feels lighter when you forgive him. But his past action still haunts him, he knows it'll join the long line of nightmares that plague him at night.

“That's my girl.” He says truthfully and proudly, he feels your heartbeat hasten through your pulse.

You tell him your choice, your decision to give up your freedom for him and the crew. He feels like he was back on the revenge, facing Mathias, refusing to let you go as you offer yourself for their freedom.

His heart beats harder as you ask him to read your mother's letter. He's unsure why you would let someone like him read something as heavy as the letter. It's reserved for someone whose hands wouldn't stain the paper with crimson.

“Because I trust you.” You say, and everything aligns in his mind. Like Poseidon shaking him inside out, like the tides itself is splitting him open.

Hobie reads it with trembling hands and broken skin. Like he thought, it turns the paper pink like ink blots dirtying the pristine paper.

He dictates it, heart shattering at every tear you let out. Wiping your cheeks dry, he's careful not to let his split skin touch your softer ones.

“It's real, innit?” He asks like the earth isn't eating him whole.

“It's real.” You answer and the world caves in around him.

Hobie teases to feel the resemblance of normalcy, “little tomato?” He asks.

And you answer with a “I don't want them, just you.” Like you didn't just mend his shattering heart with one sentence. And you break it right after with a “We'll meet again, in this life or the next.”

He's terrified once again. He shakes his head as the door creaks open. “No, Y/N—”

As you kiss his wounded knuckles gently, you ask him something he can't possibly do.

“Don't follow me, please.”

Reaching for you, he should've read the last line in the letter to you. ‘Don't trust anyone’ it said, whatever it was, it's not your burden to carry, so he'll do it for you.

Hobie apologizes in his head for keeping it away from you and for what he's about to do.

—

With the dinner bell ringing, and heavy footsteps retreating, the crew takes their chance. The key opens the door smoothly. They sneak around the ship, only leaving shadows and footfalls that's barely audible.

Climbing up the steps towards freedom, Hobie spots a door at the end of a hallway. Like two hearts beating as one, he knows it's you behind it.

Miles takes his arm before he could come to you. “Don't.” He whispers to his captain. “Don't waste her sacrifice.”

“She didn't sacrifice herself.” Hobie shakes his head, scoffing quietly. “I can't leave her behind, Miles. I can't.”

“I know,” he pulls him away from the hallway. “she asked you to not follow, so don't follow.”

“If this was Gwen—”

“If this was Gwen we'd be doing the exact same thing. She wouldn't ask us to follow and we'll leave because she asked us to.” Miles spares a heavy glance towards your locked door. “I know it hurts, but we'd be in the gallows by morning if we don't leave now. We'll have another chance at saving her.”

“You don't know that.”

“I don't, but it's better to not know instead of being dead. At least we'd have a chance.” Miles tugs him further away. “Do you think it's better for her to think that she caused our deaths just because you took the chance?” His voice is determined.

“Don't hurt her like that, Hobie. It'll ruin her.”

With one last look towards your door, Hobie nods, following the others to the deck then to safety. As the dinghy drops down into the sea, and into the dark night, he hears Miguel curse his name.

He asks for your forgiveness silently.

—

Hobie and the crew finally make it to the docks without being seen by anyone. It was pure luck that no one saw or even heard them, he thanked the early morning and the still dark sky for lending them a hand.

“We need to wait for her.” He says, stretching his stiff hands from rowing the boat.

The sparse pirate crew hides in the shadows, hidden behind the dark alleyway. They lean on the grimy walls, hands cradling their fatigued heads, huffing and groaning at the aches and pains they had from their daring escape. They can still hear Miguel cursing Hobie's name, his voice ringing in their ears.

“Hobie,” Gwen calls for him. “Leave her be.”

“What the fuck?” Hobie turns sharply. “What the fuck does that mean?”

“It means we leave her alone.” Pavitr says forlornly, eyes downcast at the dirty pavement.

“We promised her—”

“That was when we didn't know it was her actual family. Back when we all thought Miguel was a threat to her.” Yuri pipes up, hands braced on her knees. Fatigued and clearly needing rest. “I love her, Hobie, I really do. We all love her, but she's with family now. Let her be.”

“What are you guys talking about?” Miles scoffs, “We're talking about the same person right?” He stands next to Hobie, arms crossed on his chest.

“C’mon, Miles,” Gwen says tiredly. “We all heard their conversation, it's real, she's noble—”

“And what of it?” Hobie snaps back. “You were too.”

“I was.” She scowls. “But she has a home to go to, a family that's waiting for her. We need to let her be until for whatever reason she decides to stay or leave with us.” Inhaling sharply, she rubs harshly at her eyes. “Let's make a compromise then. We're all clearly feeling conflicted. I don't want to fully let her go, we all agree right?”

Everyone nods, tension running high, glares thrown about the small group. Gwen continues, “Then we stay close to her, we watch her like when we used to observe potential crew members. But this time we make sure she is actually safe and not thrown to the wolves.” Her idea reminds Hobie why he chose her as his first mate.

“I'll keep first watch,” Hobie quickly says, "we switch after I say so.”

“And when will that be, Hobie?” Yuri clasps her hand on Hobie's shoulder, comforting the man. “You haven't slept a wink, add the fact that you were stranded on a bloody island for a month, you're not in the right state for this.”

“I'll be once I see that she's safe.” His voice cracks, “I didn't keep an eye on MJ and look what happened. I-I don't want that to happen again. Please let me do it. You can follow me all you want just let me keep watch—”

“It's Y/N,” James whisper yells, he peeks around the alley, watching you slowly walk down the ship.

They all clammer to see you ignore Miguel's helping hand. Pride swells in their chest, they remember now why they can't exactly leave you behind— you're family.

As if fate is pulling the strings, you crane your neck to look in their direction. The crew ducks away, but Hobie stays, staring at you, waiting for your signal, anything to indicate that you want to run away with them.

He sees your subtle shake of your head, and with that, he hides with his crew.

“Did she say something?” Pav asks, concerned for you.

“No, nothin’” He holds his heart in his hand. “She said nothin'”

—

Hobie follows you quietly throughout the day. Hiding from Miguel's watchful eyes and your sad eyes. The crew left to rest in an inn, Miles offered to come with him, Hobie's glad he did for he found an unhitched horse in a street corner. But it could only seat one so Miles, the angel that he is, let Hobie go on without him.

“I'll take care of them.” He promises before he lets his captain go.

They all know your house, they've raided their ships before. Crates upon crates full of luxury, with the same design on your necklace stamped on the wooden sides. Hobie knows them quite well, the favourite of the king, always giving them special treatment. Yet the queen holds them at an arm's length away, but she never left her eyes away from their business. He guessed sacking random ships has its perks, gossip is one of them.

Hobie silently trots his horse, eyes never leaving the carriage you just left. The cemetery sends his nerves alight, with the crows cawing in the background, he strains his ear to listen in. He's hiding behind the chapel, the irony doesn't escape him.

The truth is revealed to you, and unbeknownst to you, he has learned about it too. His head is in his hands as he listens to how broken your voice is, tone splitting at the seams. Then his heart stops when you tell your mother that you want to stay, that you want to find the person responsible for their deaths, that the same flames burning inside him now have spread to you.

Hobie doesn't want you to go down the same path he walked on, to let the embers singe your skin, to let the fire burn you from the inside out like it had with him. You helped him through his, helped him control it. Now it's his turn to do so for you.

He cares for you, loves you for all your soft touches and gentle tone. But he's prepared to love you through your jagged edges, through all the anger that's inside you. He'd love both sides of you, because it's you, and no one else.

His foot accidentally steps on a twig as he sees you leave. Hobie almost ran towards you when you looked at the source of the sound. This time he ducks away, knowing that there's eyes on you, eyes that are prepared to take you away the moment they see him. So he waits, until there's no more eyes on you.

The next time he saw you again was when you stepped out of the carriage and into the golden doors of the palace. He's terrified for what's to come, whether or not Miguel has brought you on a silver platter for the wolves to devour.

With his guns accompanying him, he readies outside the walls of the palace until you leave, until he sees you again climbing inside the carriage.

He can finally breathe again, he doesn't have to kill this time. Not yet anyway.

Hobie tries his best to stay hidden, he bribes and lies to get inside Hazelside. Then he waits, and bides his time just to talk to you.

—

“Hazelside estate,” Miguel says when the large manor looms over the horizon. “Your family has owned it for two hundred years. Passed down to every first born child of the family.”

Acres and acres of land stretch across the vast space. Primed apple trees and oaks line the road, men and women in work clothes walk near the carriage, not even craning their necks to take a peek inside. It seems this was a daily occurrence for them.

“Two hundred years.” You repeat, contemplating how many generations owned it. “So it's mine once the papers are signed? Where would my…uncle and aunt go then?” Your mind goes through a hundred scenarios where you stay and where you decide to leave it all again.

“They have their own house. Granted it's not as big as Hazelside but it's enough for them. Knowing his majesty, he'd take his sweet time from releasing the papers.”

“How well do you know the king and queen?” You ask, eyes scanning your family's land.

Stone houses are standing miles away from the main estate, employees of the house you think. Chimneys billow out smoke whilst the sun is just about to rise. You imagine them having breakfast with their families, sleep still clinging in their lashes, hot tea wrapped in their cool hands. Opening the window, the smell of fresh apples wafts over you. Home, you think. It smells like home. Or it just reminds you of the apple tarts Jessica made for you when you were younger.

“You alright?” Miguel asks, watching you frown.

“I'm fine, just tired.” You lied, in truth, you miss them all.

“You had a hectic day, I don't blame you. You'll get to rest soon, I promise.”

How could you even think of sleeping alone? After being near him? After saying goodbye?

“You didn't answer my question.” You shift your attention from the trees to the man before you. “How well do you know them?”

“I barely know the queen, but the king? Yes, short answer? He's a moron, a buffoon wearing a crown.”

Lyla snickers next to you, head plopped on the carriage wall, seemingly asleep.

You smile, “You have a monkey for a king.”

“Once you're the Hazelside duchess, he'll be your king too.”

“Christ.” You chuckle nervously.

“Don't worry, I'll help you get accustomed to polite society.” Miguel reassures you and you still have no idea if you'll stay long enough to bear the title.

“Polite society.” You say with a scoff, “What I just saw wasn't very polite.”

“Just remember, everything here is political. Everyone here is climbing the ladder, kissing the royal asses. Some are doing it for their families, some are doing it for their personal gain.”

“Which one do you think I am?”

“Neither.” The carriage stops, horses neighing, hooves stomping on the gravel. “You're not like them, Y/N, that's why you'll end up walking all over them.”

The footman opens the door, Miguel gives you a look before coming down the small steps. He reaches towards you, helping you down. You hesitate. You still don't take his hand even with your bad leg.

The wind blows cold, goosebumps appearing on your skin, face worried at the sheer size of the manor. The glinting silvered birds catch the early morning's sun's rays. Beady eyes seemingly blinking when a cloud passes by.

Vines cling to the ancient walls, small purple flowers run along the plant and along the large windows. Strong columns line the façade, laurels carved on the marble, oak doors displaying the house sigil— your necklace bearing a similarity to it. Flower beds cradling violets lay by the foot of the building, blooming and fragrant. The smell hiding your trepidation from the dozen or so people watching you with unreadable eyes.

The staff greets you with a stiff nod, they stand on the stairs leading towards the manor. Their uniforms are perfect, perfectly ironed and clean; perfect white gloves on their hands.

A couple of them help your drunk uncle off their own carriage. He groans, head swirling, eyes rolling to the back of his head. Fancy clothes sweaty and moist, neckerchief lopsided and dirtied by ale. In contrast to his wife, who looks tired with the heavy eye bags under her eyes, she still looks like a proper noble compared to Frederick.

“Freddy—” She groans, kicking her husband's leg, “get up!”

“Darling…” he slurs, “there's two of you—oh wait…now there's three!” His guffaw fills the quiet morning.

Victoria gives up, leaving the man to the care of her staff. She walks off, huffing and puffing. She gives you a glance, “what are you waiting for? Get inside.”

Her eyes flick to Miguel who stands behind you, she immediately clamps down her bitterness. “Welcome to Hazelside, niece.” With a stomp of her heeled foot, she heads inside, no doubt seething.

“Catty.” Lyla says next to you, elbowing your side. “C’mon, your grace, before the sun gets in their eyes and sends them into a murderous frenzy.”

You chuckle, shaking your head. Something flickers in your peripheral vision, when you move your head to look, whatever it was, it's already gone behind the thick bushes.

“Y/N?” Miguel beckons you over. “It's cold out, come inside before you get sick.”

“Coming,” you call back, eyes darting around the thicket.

—

Miguel shows you around to your room in the west wing. Various historical paintings decorate the walls, wooden simple frames around them, showing the true beauty of the art without all the extravagant gold laurels around it.

Sculpted busts of your ancestors wait at every corner, marble eyes staring blankly at what's in front of them. Large windows line the walls, just outside the glass lies an expansive field of apple trees, bulbs of reds and greens adorning the branches of the mighty orchard. You stand in awe at the sight, workers start flocking the trees, picking and plucking at the ripest of fruits. The sun shines directly at the field, apples aglow with its light like red and green stars.

You lag behind Miguel as you gawp at the scenery, hand tucked inside the pocket of your gown, mindlessly rolling the pearl. Wishing the crew could see it too, wishing that he could see it and harvest the fruits with you.

Miguel calls for you, hand reaching but he retracts it back to his side. “Apples are new around here.” You genuinely smile at him, so he continues. “It used to just be hazelnuts, which still grow plenty in the estate.”

“Why the change then?”

“They didn't change, your family merely adapted. Your grandmother was the one who started planting the apple trees. Whenever she had a—” Miguel falters, you can practically see his brain turning.

“Had a what? I'm a big girl, Miguel, I can handle whatever it is.” You encourage him with a nod.

“A miscarriage,” he says lowly, “At the end of her life she planted seven trees. There was only one seed she didn't plant and that was when your mother was born.”

Your heart aches at the story even though the people in it are practically strangers to you. “Apple of her eye.” You murmur.

Miguel chuckles, turning to watch the vast orchard that spans acres upon acres of land. “It’s an understatement. She was spoiled, your mother. But she had a heart, most of her gifts almost always ‘gets lost’ somewhere.” He smiles fondly. “Strangely enough, it always ends up with someone who would benefit from it more.”

“Which one ended up getting lost in your backyard?” You smile at his rare grin.

“A lot, pocket watches, jeweled eggs, there was a kitten once. Only because her mother didn't like it.” He sighs, hazel eyes shining under the sunlight.

“You loved her.”

“I did,” he stares at you with kinder eyes. “She was my best friend, and so was your father. They both were.”

“What did you mean back at the carriage when you told me that they did the same to you?”

He swallows thickly, staring back at the outside of the opulent manor. “My daughter, Gabriella.” he says after a moment, “She was only a few years older than you. Your parents were her godparents, this was before they eloped and had you.” You can feel the strain in his voice. “She got sick…they poured everything into giving her the best doctors the country has to offer. They were at her side while I was drowning my sorrows in the navy. When they weren't by her side, they were with me. But in the end everything was all in vain.”

“I'm sorry,” you say genuinely, “I'm sorry, Miguel.”

He gives you a tight smile and a pat on your shoulder. “Even after all that they were still by my side, even when I pushed them away.” Sniffing, he subtly wipes his eye. “I didn't cross the sea and traveled thousands of miles to find you because I want us to be even. Or to pay the debt, I just wanted to find the last thing they left in hopes that I also find them in you.” His chest heaves. “I couldn't even say goodbye to them.”

There's tears in your eyes as he chokes on his own words. “I lost my friends but you lost your family before you could even meet them. And for that, I'm sorry, Y/N.” His hand shakes. “They didn't deserve what happened to them.”

“Tell me what happened to them.” You stand toe to toe with him, determined to get answers.

“Pirates, I told you they were pirates.”

You shake your head. “Do you really believe that, O’Hara? Or are you still trying to convince yourself otherwise?”

His jaw clenches, “It was pirates, Y/N.”

“Tell that to the former navy medic I call mother.”

He whispers, “the last time I looked further into their deaths I lost my Job, stripped of all my titles. I almost lost my house because of it.”

“Then tell me what you found.” You challenge him back. “Tell me who ordered it so I can live in this house in peace.”

“I don't have definitive proof—”

“Who?”

“Edward.” He says through gritted teeth. “He wanted to marry your mother, even going as far to ask for her hand. But when she refused him for your father—” he heaves. “I think he has probable cause to order the attack.”

“You were answering the man who might've killed my parents and wanted me dead?”

“How do you think that makes me feel, hm? I had my full trust in the navy, trusting the report they gave, trusted them with my whole life, even dedicating my life to them. And the moment I get a whiff of a planned murder on the only family I've ever had they bar me from the only life I've ever known. How do you think that made me feel?”

“I'm sorry you went through that but you could've done something.”

“He is king!” Miguel's voice booms around the hallway. He shifts his voice, pinching his knitted brows. “His word is law, I couldn't have done anything, even if I had proof.”

“You should've started with that instead of telling me lies, then I would've come to you without a fight.”

“There would've still been a fight.” He states matter of factly. “Hobie was ready to fight the moment I stepped below deck.”

“Could you blame him though? We both know not every single pirate crew is as nice as them, he didn't attack because you claimed it was pirates. Or that he was offended, he knows that he has done unsavoury things too. So what did you say that made him lunge at you?”

Miguel shakes his head, refusing to say anything. “It's best that you don't remember it.”

“Fine, be like that, just know that there will always be a wall between us.” Your heels clack loudly against the oak floors as you leave him behind.

—

The room they gave you was surprisingly comfortable, unlike the apartments in the palace that you explored. It's ten times bigger than the inn you were in, complete with your own bathroom and sitting room. It's all wooden walls covered in beautiful tapestries of various scenes from history— the thick cloth helps keep the heat inside. All the windows are wide open to let the cool air in and the moonlight. So you could hear the rustling of the trees outside, so you could smell the crisp apples. It helps, you think as you sit in front of the large stone fireplace with birds engraved in every corner of the stone.

You're already sick of the bloody birds.

You wrap the fur blanket closer to your body, still in your gown, refusing to wear anything else they've provided for you. You've heard of poisoned dresses before, it's far-fetched but you can't risk it now that you're in a more unfamiliar territory where your own family holds a grudge against you just for existing.

Especially now that you're alone in a large room filled with strange things. And with only his dagger to keep you safe.

Anyone would kill to be in your shoes right now, to be pampered and placed in a household that can provide for all your needs. If it weren't for the hunger in you, you would've left all of the gold in this house just to get back to them. Instead, the fire has you in its hold too.

Miguel's information only fueled the glowing embers in you, you're determined to find who killed them. But you're still restrained in this large manor, and until you can get your answers, you say their names to satiate the hunger.

“Edward and Mathias.” You say through shuddered breath, feeling if you could just say it louder, the sky would strike them down where they stood.

The pearl in your hands is warm, the shiny surface reflecting your scowl.

The flames mesmerize you as it dances in the kindling. Orange and reds illuminate your face, it's the only light in the whole room. You exhale and a puff of clouds escape your cool lips.

It's getting colder, and you're missing him.

Just when you're about to stand up to close the windows, a pebble lands near you. It thuds on the wooden floors, the sound gets your attention.

“What the hell?” You say confused. Standing back up, another flies through the open windows and into your room. “Who the fuck?” Speed walking towards the window, you almost get hit by a pebble if you didn't dodge it in time. “Hey!”

Fifteen feet below your window, you see two people dressed in their night clothes, bundled up in fur coats. They look up at you with wide eyes, like they got caught with their hands inside the cookie jar.

“Cousin!” One exclaims, a wide apologetic smile on his lips, showing you his perfect teeth. “Sorry about that! Can you come down?”

“Who in the world are you?” You ask, confused, you lean down to take a better look, hands gripping the sill for support.

“We're your cousins! I guess?” The girl next to him says, eyes shining in the moonlight, hand holding another pebble. “We waited to see you during supper and around the house but you were apparently hiding!”

“Alright, why do I need to come down then?”

“Because we want to properly introduce ourselves! Without screaming at you from below that is.” The girl shrugs, smiling prettily at you. “Please, cousin?”

“...fine.” you grumble, the dagger is still hidden underneath your skirt in case they're planning something nefarious.

They beam up at you, the girl daintily claps her hands. “Brilliant! We'll be waiting at the entrance.”

As you trudge down the unfamiliar sprawling halls, trying your hardest to not get lost in the maze-like structure. You accidentally encounter another painting of your mother.

Her name is etched on a golden plaque just below the portrait. This one was different from the one in the palace, she was stiff there, lips tightly closed into a line, eyes cold and empty. The one in front of you is warm, a soft smile on her lips, eyes shining and alive. Her dress is in lilac, golden stars adorning the bodice. She still wore the same necklace you're currently wearing, it rests perfectly on her neck. In her hand is a closed locket, you wonder whose portrait lies inside.

“Hi, mum.” You whisper into the cold hallway. “Where's dad's portrait?” You ask like she would open her mouth and answer back. With a sigh, you head downstairs.

Walking the ancient floors, the moon shines down at you, the light peeking in from the gaps of the heavy curtains. Silently, you meet with your cousins in the foyer. Carefully coming down the curved staircase, hand gripping the bannister, the boy who is about the same age as Miles meets you halfway. He reaches towards you, giving you a hand.

“I heard about your leg, I thought you'd appreciate some help.”

“You're Frederick's children?” You say, questioning whether or not you should take his hand.

“We are,” he says with a sigh. “Come on, cousin, or you might miss it.”

“Miss what?”

“The birds.” The girl waiting in the foyer excitedly says. “They're migrating.”

“Oh, I don't see why that would be so interesting.” You say as the boy flexes his fingers, beckoning you down.

“You’ll see why. Take my hand please, you look like our grandmother going down the steps.”

“Fine,” with an exhale, you take his hand. You hold his hand, a feather light touch that he barely feels, giving yourself enough time to react if he decides to do something.

“I'm Jonathan, or just John.” He says as he gently leads you down the steps. His stride is slow, waiting for your own feet to keep up. “And this is my sister—”

“Collette!” She suddenly clasps your hands when you reach the last step. “Sorry–” her tone is sweet and genuine, quickly removing her hands from yours. “I got too excited! I'm Collette, my brother and I are twins.”

“Unfortunately…” John says under his breath.

Collette jabs her elbow by his side, earning a groan from him. You see the similarities on their faces now that you're closer to them. From the slope of their noses to the curls of their hair, they look very much alike. Except for their eyes, Collette has emerald eyes that shimmer from the oil lamp she carries. While her brother has brilliant blue eyes that remind you of the sea when the sun shines above it.

You get reminded of him again.

“Who's older?” You ask teasingly, pushing the previous thought away.

“I am!” They both speak at the same time. John looks at her sister with disappointment, while Collette scrunches her nose.

“I'm five minutes older than you, Jojo.” She says with a tone you could only describe as annoyed.

“Father told me I'm the one who's five minutes older. Not you!”

“Sure,” she nods sarcastically, the lamp in her hand sways. “Because father was in the room when we were born.” Her head swivels to look at you, and you almost jump at how fast she moved. “He wasn't in the room.”

“Ah, I think I got it—”

“Like you could bloody remember.” John says with a scoff.

Before the argument could go on, you stop them with your hands on each of their shoulders.

“I need to sleep, so whatever you want to show me, just fucking show me.”

Collette stares at you with a gasp, eyes wide like you just said the darndest thing. Meanwhile, John has the biggest grin you've ever seen.

“Wow, cousin.” He says, amused. “I heard you used to run with pirates but I didn't know you got their vocabulary too. Hazelside would be more interesting now that you're here.”

“Gosh,” Collette exhales, clutching her pearls (literally) “I didn't know that word could be uttered by a woman.”

“You should try it sometimes. It's very freeing.” You chuckle at their reaction whilst you make your way outside. “Before we freeze to death, cousins?”

“The oldest should lead the way.” John takes the opportunity to rag on his still bewildered sister.

She groans audibly. “You're not the one with the lamp.”

You smile, there's a warm familiar feeling in your chest.

—

Leaves crunch under your bare foot, you've got blisters from the uncomfortable heels Miguel gave you. You'd take walking on bare feet rather than wear that torture device ever again. The only plus side of the fancy shoe is that it makes you feel powerful with every click of the heels. Walking along a path, tall apple trees carve a way for you and the twins.

“I like your dress.” Collette says right next to you, you sense her wariness by how she keeps her distance. “The color is beautiful, it's our house color.”

“Thank you, but I've been told that red suits me better.”

“Oh, I think they're right actually.” She smiles, her eyes crinkling at the corners.

“Yeah, I'm slowly getting used to this one though.” You lift up your skirt a bit for emphasis.

“Is it true that you were shot?” John asks in front of you, looking over his shoulder. “We heard from the footmen that you were shot by a pirate when O’Hara rescued you.”

“I was, but that's not the whole story. Miguel didn't rescue me.”

“Really?” Collette's brows are raised in question and surprise. You nod at her question. “Huh, I told you we shouldn't listen to gossip.” She slaps her brother on his bicep, he winces, glaring at her. “It's bad to begin with.”

“That's the thing about gossip, Co, it's not always the truth.” He spits out.

“I knew that, pssh.” She crosses her arms on her chest, annoyed and embarrassed.

“Why are we out here again? If you're planning to ambush me—” Colette gasps loudly, like you've shot her.

“Ambush you? Do we look like we know how to fight?” She stops you from going further down the path just as you see a dark river at the end of it.

John knits his brows with a pout. “We're here to give you a warm welcome, cousin. We heard mother and father didn't even give you a tour, so I guess it falls on us to show you around.”

“At night though?” You gesture around the silence of the grounds, save for a few crickets chirping and the flowing of the lake, you're practically alone in the dark.

“Guess we're just living to our house motto, ‘carpe noctem—’”

“‘Seize the night’” Collette finishes her brother's sentence. “The ancestor who established our house was a gambler.” She shrugs.

“That's our house motto?”

“Nope!” Collette answers you. “It was our house motto.” She gestures to herself and her brother. “Before the crown granted us Hazelside, after—” John elbows her. “I'm sorry.”

“It's alright, what's the actual motto?”

“‘alis volat propriis—’”

“‘She flies with her own wings.’” You translate, the siblings look at you with awe. “There's latin in medicine.”

“You know medicine?!” Collette shrieks, the sound echoing through the dark.

“Brilliant.” John murmurs.

“Oh you must tell us more!” Collette loops her arm around yours, walking side by side. “How and where did you learn it?”

“I—”

“Don't pester her, Co.” John clicks his tongue, “have you cut anyone's arm off?”

“How grim!” She exclaims.

As they lead you towards the sparkling lake, you three chat through the night by the banks of the hazelside lake. They ask about the world outside the capital, they ask about the sea and the pirates you were with. You don't tell them about all the blood and violence, deciding that you shouldn't mar their innocent hearts with stories of death. It's not yours to tell, and you don't want to traumatize the only people who don't look at you with contempt.

“So you're not mad at me or even at least a bit annoyed for showing up and taking the estate from your parents?” You ask whilst the sun slowly rises, bathing the lake in bright blue. The hazelnuts in your mouth is a welcome one since you haven't eaten a single bite since you got to the capital.

“Not really.” John munches on his own pile of hazelnuts. He lounges near the water, hand cradling his head, chewing quietly. “We were surprised at first because there have been a handful of girls who claimed to be you. Who were obviously not you.” You raise an eyebrow at his statement. “But when they told us it was Miguel who found you, we were sure it was really you.”

“Wait— there were people who claimed to be me?”

“Mm-hmm.” Collette hums, sitting close to you, hanging on to every word you utter. “They weren't very convincing.”

“The story of Miguel trying to find you was pretty famous around here. I mean, the guy abandoned his post to find a missing duchess who may or may not be alive. That was a big story back then, so a lot of women threw their daughters and young relatives at the manor's gates to get a chance.” John informs you.

“We were quite young back then, but the fakes dwindled away through the years.” Collette finishes his statement.

“‘Quite young’ she says,” he scoffs, “we were barely out of the womb, Collette.” His sister sticks out her tongue at John.

“Huh, that's probably why I haven't heard of it either, I was still young.” You wonder.

“The sun's almost out!” Collette points at the clear sky. “Get ready, cousin, because you're about to see the most gorgeous thing.”

“The birds here migrate at this time of year,” John helps you both up to your feet. You surprisingly take his hand. “like clockwork. Collette and I used to watch it with our parents before they got all…well, too much. Now it's some sort of tradition for us.”

“Look look! The trees are rustling!” She points, jumping up and down.

“Any minute now.” John smiles at his sister as she half hugs him.

The three of you wait for a sign of the birds, a minute passes, then two, then five. Yet, not even a feather flies overhead. The early morning sun shines brighter with every minute that passes. And with every minute, the twins grew agitated.

“Why aren't they coming out?” Collette asks sadly.

“I'm sure they're just getting ready for the journey.” John reassures his sister with a pat on her shoulder. “My calculations are correct, why aren't they here yet?” He questions no one.

Their slumped shoulders and frowns get to you. An idea pops in your head, and you think it's all Hobie's fault.

“Maybe they're still sleeping.” They look at you simultaneously, “I mean it's really cold out, they probably wanted to stay in bed— or nest to sleep more. I know I would want to.”

“Oh,” Collette gives you a small smile at your attempt to make them feel better. “That's probably it. Thank you, cousin.”

You grin mischievously at them, “what if we wake them all up?”

John makes a face. “How?”

You inhale, putting your hands around your mouth, you scream, “wake the fuck up!” The sound echoed throughout the field and across the lake.

Your cousins let out a loud guffaw, you giggle at their reaction. John joins in, copying your actions.

“Wake up you wankers!” He yells, exhilaration filling his chest. “I've always wanted to say that.” Chuckling, he laughs louder at the face his sister is making.

“Johnathan!” His sister gasps next to him.

“What? Try it out! Come on then! No one's out here to tell us off.” John shakes her shoulder, giving you a wide grin.

“Join us in the dark side, Collette.” You sing song, “the birds need a wake up call.”

“You won't tell mother and father?” She asks the both of you. Wiggling, she’s excited.

Crossing your heart, you promise. “I won't, I'm not a tattletale.”

“Cross my heart and hope to die, Co.”

“Alright.” She exhales deeply before letting loud the loudest scream you've ever heard. “Wake up, cocksuckers!” It's so loud that you swear your eardrums are blown out. Smiling, she turns towards your surprised forms.

Now it's you and John's turn to gasp.

“Cocksucker?!” You exclaim, bewildered.

“Where'd you learn that, Co?!” John pokes his sister.

“I heard it when Mrs. Williams stubbed her toe during lessons.” She said shyly.

“Good on you, sis.” He pats her back. “Good on you.”

Collette looks at you expectantly. “Good show, Co.” You wink at her and she giggles happily.

Facing towards the thick trees across the lake, the birds still don't fly overhead. There's nothing but the wind rustling the branches.

“They didn't wake up though.” She says forlornly.

“What if we do it at the same time?” Your words have them smiling again.

“Yes!” They say simultaneously.

“Ready?” They both nod, taking in air before screaming their hearts out.

“Cocksuckers!” The three of you let out simultaneously. The canopy rustles and out comes a hundred or so birds from the thicket.

You all jump up and down, arms up in greeting the birds. Their feathers shine in the sun, light filtering through their wings. Iridescent blues and whites glowing, reflecting in your eyes. Wings flapping loudly, beaks held up high as they greet the sky with open wings.

Amidst the beauty of it all, you wish that he was there to witness it.

A tear slides down your cheek. You wipe it quickly before the twins notice. Head staring up at the sky, amidst all the beauty and light, there's a darkness swirling inside you. Amidst all the life around you, you feel the opposite. And you miss him. The worst part is, you see this place becoming your home.

>>> CHAPTER 13 II

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gayforminatozaki · 5 months

Text

"so what's your name?"

sana x spiderwoman!reader

summary: SANA gets MUGGED??? SPIDERWOMAN SAVES HER? ?? THEY'RE ACTUALLY PRETTY CUTE TOGETHER??(EMOTIONAL) (NOT CLICKBAIT) 😱😨 (tw: implied r//pe but nothing actually happens)

wc: 1.6k

authors note: please be nice i haven't written anything in 2 years. also y'all like how i decorated this post i put pictures and everything oo i feel so fancy.

(@moonpheus)

it's 10pm, or maybe 11? who knows. all that sana knows is that it's late as fuck and she needed to get home as soon as possible. unfortunately, the only way home from her shift at the bakery was through a shady neighbourhood that she almost always managed to avoid. unfortunately, some pretentious customer came in just before it was time to close and demanded they make two dozen fresh doughnuts for her daughters birthday party. she was a bitch about it, sure, but seeing how stressed she was she caved. though she was beginning to regret it now as she missed her daily drive home from jihyo, and with no taxis around now had to resort to walking through unfamiliar territory.

it's just a 10 minutes away sana thinks, trying to compose herself. what she failed to realise, however, was that there was someone tailing her. no, not just one person. but two. and as she takes another step she's immediately grabbed from behind and a knife is put to her neck.

SHITSHITSHITSHITSHIT

her immediate reaction is to stay as still as possible, but on the inside she's experiencing nothing but sheer panic. multiple "what if"s and "i should've been more careful"s and "fuck you jihyo i'm gonna die"s occupy her head, that it takes a couple more screams from the attacker to snap her back to reality.

"LISTEN TO ME BITCH OR I'LL SLIT YOUR THROAT."

"w-what do you want?" sana says, half crying half babbling.

"your purse. pull out your wallet and show me." he spits. sana complies, slowly pulling out her wallet with shaky hands. "how much?"

"a hundred" she replies, showing him the bills. she didn't want him thinking she was lying, not that he deserved the truth anyway. sana hands the wad of cash over to him and stays silent as he shoves it in his musty washed out jean pocket. after a while of still having a knife to her throat, she musters up the courage to talk to him, though meekly.

"is that it?"

the man stops, and then chuckles.

"is that it?" he says with a smug smile, getting closer to sana and moving his other hand to her pants. wait, is he going to.. oh god. "well, unless you have something else to offer me..."

tears start welling in sana's eyes, but before she could start begging him not to, a spiderweb shoots down from above, pulling the knife out of his hand. a few more go on his face, blocking his vision. a figure leaps down and starts mercilessly beating the everlasting shit out of him. punch after punch, sana's pretty sure she can hear some bones break. groans and cries erupt from behind, but sana doesn't dare look- not yet anyway. by the end of it, the man's laying down with his face bloody and disfigured. as the figure stands up straight, a wad of spit hits her leg.

"fuck you." he sneers, mouth full of blood, "i didn't even do anything yet."

and with that final word, the figure turns around and aggressively steps on his head. a helpless scream leaves his mouth.

"fucking bastard," you say, pulling the money out of his pocket. sana's left speechless. absolutely frozen. you notice and concerned, ask "ma'am, are you okay?"

what you didn't expect was to receive a hard slap to the face.

"s-spiderwoman you..." sana cries, "you s-saw that and you didn't bother to do anything u-until h-he.."

your eyes grow wide, "what? no no that's not what happened!" you say desperately, 'i thought he was only going for the money and didn't want to risk anything with a knife that close to your neck."

"b-but you managed to grab the knife no problem!"

"because he had his focus on something else!" you sigh, "i'm sorry, i should've done something in the first place."

"...thank you." sana say, "i was so scared. thank you so much."

y/n beams. though it sucked seeing people get hurt, it was nice being able to help them.

"it's no problem. i'm just glad i was here to help." sana nods, "it's too late for you to be out here, especially in this place. what are you doing?"

and so sana begins explaining her situation, to which you suggest you swing her back home. after all, you didn't think sana would be in the mood to continue walking after that. though sana was hesitant at first, you assure her it's completely safe.

"don't worry, i have a lot of experience" you say reassuringly, "though i don't always carry a grown woman with me."

sana laughs. you're both now up in the sky, leaping from building to building. she can't lie, it's absolutely terrifying. one wrong move and she'd fall to her death. fearing this, she clings onto you even harder.

"are you okay?" you say, turning red under the mask.

"y-yeah it's just so weird being up here. how fast did you get used to it?"

"didn't take long honestly. i'm not usually focused on what's below me but rather the criminal i'm chasing. though i do like to just swing around for fun sometimes."

"it's terrifying." says sana

"yeah, but thrilling" you smile, holding sana a bit closer. you don't want her feeling unsafe. this doesn't go unnoticed by sana, who now had the courage to peer down for a bit. "by the way," you ask "what bakery do you work at?"

"hm? oh, rosie's bakery. It's by the-"

"rosie's!? I LOVE rosie's. you guys make the best cheesecakes hands down." you say enthusiastically, to which sana can only laugh, "sorry, i didn't mean to cut you off."

"nono it's fine, honestly i didn't know people were such fans of our cheesecakes." she laughs. you smile back. she's so cute.

"oh we just passed by my apartment. it's the one over there." sana says, pointing to one with a chair on the balcony. you leap down onto it, still holding sana. looking in from the balcony, the woman has a pretty nice apartment.

her living room is neat and organised, with a large bookshelf to the side of it filled with books (she's well-read). her plants are seemingly still alive (she's responsible) and organised in a way which encapsulates the feel of her apartment (she's organised and pays attention to detail). she has a kitchen island- wait she has a kitchen island?? in new york city?? she really is your dream girl.

you don't realise you're lost in thought until sana speaks.

"thanks for the.. i want to say swing but that sounds wrong."

you laugh, "it's no problem. i'm glad you came home safe."

you both stand there silently, not knowing what to do next. sana breaks the silence clearing her throat.

"ahem. well, it was nice meeting you. thank you for everything."

she bows and turns to leave. you stand there frozen until you call out to her.

"wait! what's your name?"

sana stops in her tracks and turns around.

"hm? well what's yours?" she says with a hint of smugness.

you scoff, "i can't tell you that. it ruins the whole anonymity thing i have going on."

"then i won't say."

"okok fine just your first name then?"

sana crosses her arms, a grin forming on her face. "why do you want to know my name so much?"

you open your mouth to say something- wait, should you? oh fuck it you're under a mask you can be as cocky as you want.

"well, it's a shame not to know the name of a beautiful woman."

sana goes red.

"honestly," you continue, "you deserve better. i can't even imagine how hard it must be for you to go this long without knowing my name."

sana stops going red, and scoffs.

"maybe if you weren't so adamant on not telling me yours i would've told you mine by now." she says smiling. she doesn't actually think it's that big of a deal, but she liked messing around with you and seeing your reaction.

"i have an actual reason though! it's too personal, it could link to my actual identity. that's the point of the mask." you say, gesturing to it.

"it's too personal for me too." she replies with a shit eating grin.

she's being so difficult you think. you think a bit more, until a lightbulb goes off in your head. if she wanted personal, you'll give her personal.

you take off your mask- no not all of it, you're not crazy- but just enough so that the bottom half of your face is showing. what you're doing right now is probably worse than just sucking it up and giving her a (probably fake) name. you didn't want to lie to her though, not to those eyes.

you start taking slow steps towards sana, who had just let out a small gasp. you get closer and closer until both of your faces are just a few inches from each other.

you hold her face and pull her in for a kiss.

lucky for you, she kisses back. it's short and doesn't escalate much, but the feeling of her soft lips on yours has you losing your mind. when you pull apart you can't help but feel like you've been kissing for a whole century. you look into her eyes, deep brown and unforgettable, which happen to be looking right back at you. her lips are slightly parted, and you have to do everything to stop yourself from going back in.

"sana."

"what?" you say, dumbfounded.

"my name is sana."

you smile. you didn't actually think that would work. you take a few steps back.

"see you soon, sana." you say, swinging off the building. sana stands there dumbfounded, touching her lips.

who knew that being mugged was the best thing to happen to her?

#minatozaki sana #twice sana #sana #sana x reader #sana x fem reader #twice x reader #twice

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suguru-getos · 10 days

Text

Fleeting - Part I

Summary: Broken and bruised, is what your heart feels after losing the love of your life - Geto Suguru, in the hands of someone you barely know. Isn't it your duty to have Gojo Satoru dead at your feet?

Author's Note: Gosh TIS is ANGSTY>!!! I almost cried while writing this part :((

Chapter Summary: You have been told that Suguru is no more, how you cope up can be utterly frightening when there's nothing else to lose anymore.

You stood at the kitchen door, frozen, numb, eyes widened with the sheer panic of everything that befell. The environment around you just felt akin to pure desolation, the very marrow of your bone shattered, broken apart in endless pieces and it was impossible to bring you back. The endless void that Suguru created in your life, the deteriorating feeling of emptiness, hollowing you, sucking your soul up. "Where is he?" You managed to fight from the endless pit of anxiety that grew like a black hole. Mimiko and Nanako are scared to meet your gaze, the woman who's not much older than them but they still consider her as the epitome of love. For both of them, and, their precious Geto Sama.

Your eyes are not allowing the pent-up grief to escape, not a tear shall be shed for this. Never will. You can't wash off all the feelings of being notoriously tainted by Suguru's intensity, by his love. Your mind isn't thinking straight, you want answers, need answers. "I asked a question, Miguel." You asked someone else in the 'Family' that cherished you as much as they cherished Geto. "Please.." Manami, the woman who helped him do his due-diligence being a Cult leader cried out. She knows you will break apart, and they are not sure if they can handle a living corpse after losing Suguru-chan.

"Where is Sugu?" You asked again, desperation of clutching for the fleeting hope of him returning back, evidently smiling with his ever-so-loving, signature smile and warmth ensuing with his hugs. He couldn't… he shouldn't. HE COULDN'T!

"Y/N Sama" Nanako sniffled, running to you and hugging you tightly, loud sobs and wails of torment echoed the room as she fell to her knees. As if she's apologizing. Why is she apologizing? Where is Suguru? You just asked a simple question - where is Geto Suguru? The love of your life, the biggest piece of your heart, the reason of you existing and not dead at your own actions all those years ago.

"Y/N Sama- please don't ask this, you know he's gone… he said he would be the first to come home didn't he?"

You want to kill everyone in this room, you want to kill every sorcerer to exist, you want to kill yourself.

He did… he did promise you. Hugged you close and whispered how grateful he is to have you, over and over and over and over and over and over and-

Why did he have to leave you forever?

Why could he not let his heart beat for you?

"This- is mine." The flashback of Suguru's silky voice haunts you, as his looming, large hands point at the left side of your chest. "You have my heart, and I, have yours." He smiled, holding your hand and softly placing it on his naked chest. "So if this stops working -" He nuzzles against your chest, "Which it would never, because my heart would never give up on you… but if it does, know I've failed to protect you as a man."

"Gosh, so intense and for what" You push him away, rolling your eyes. "Both our hearts wouldn't stop working. You know why? Because - in this world, you bring out a smile in me."

Suguru was right, if his heart was in you - he didn’t fail to protect you, but you did. You're all alone now, the only shred of comfort if ever, in the grotesque way your heart is tattered apart, is the words of Suguru where he calls that 'his heart'. You know that's not true, you know better. Still, what else could you do?

You can't think of anything else, can't speak, can't eat. Time is a construct when it's your other half that you’ve lost.

You don't even remember that a week has passed with you staring at the wall, sleeping in the same bed that has the scent of your person.. fleeting… just like him.

You cry on the eighth day, you roar, you scream, you let the world know that you're here. Even if Geto Suguru is not, you're here.

What's worse than a lion? The king of the jungle, the apex predator?

An injured lion.

You.

All you can think of is how to make the ache in your heart settle, how to breathe again. Or perhaps, how to be worthy of death that you can grant yourself and re-unite with Suguru. What would it take to meet him again…

You drag yourself up from the bed, going to his closet and taking his perfume out, the whisking sound of it spraying all over echoes as you close your eyes, pumping it over and over and over and over and over- you can't afford to not smell like your lover. You are losing your mind- why doesn't everyone else die? Who killed him-

Right, who killed Suguru Geto?

Frantically, tear-stained and in an absolute mess, you opened the door. Stunned to see 'everyone' standing outside. You know why they were there, your screams and sobs were unimaginably painful. You were crying out in utter devastating, soul churning pain after all. None of them knew how to console you after all. How would you tell someone to be okay after they lose the light of their life?

"Who killed him?" You asked the question, looking at everyone.

"Gojo Satoru." Larue responded.

"Gojo Satoru.." You repeated, as if writing his name in red in your broken, bleeding heart. Writing his name in… blood red.

"His best friend?" You snorted, the denial turning you furious and unimaginably dangerous.

"We have a new mission, my family." You smiled. If it's revenge that can keep you alive, so be it.

#geto suguru #geto x reader #gojo satoru #gojo x reader #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk angst #gojo angst #geto angst #stsg #satosugu

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musicforastylesrestaurant · 6 months

Text

The Impossible Miracle.

fictober masterlist || ask me anything <3

authors note - don't ask me what this is because honestly, i have no clue myself. my brain is weird sometimes.

word count - 4k

in which, what you thought would turn out as a fun filled halloween evening with your fiancé turns out to be anything of the sorts when you collapse in pain, coughing up blood as your body convulses. your soon rushed to see the witches where they seem to inform you of something you never thought was possible given your lover is a creature of the night.

trope: vampire!harry, fiancé!harry

It's the 31st of October, and the enchantment of the night has settled in. The dim, warm glow of the table lamp casts soft, flickering shadows, creating a mesmerizing ambiance. Halloween decorations, now slightly askew, dance gently in the breeze that flows through the half-open window.

The cozy embrace of the sofa lures you into a state of gentle slumber, but instead of peaceful dreams, a sinister nightmare takes hold. You find yourself shifting and turning on the sofa, trapped in a whirlwind of emotions. The familiar room becomes a disorienting labyrinth, shadows whispering your deepest fears.

Your knuckles whiten as you clutch the edges of the sofa. The nightmare intensifies, and your heart races. Cold sweat forms on your brow. The laughter of your fiancé from the joyful dinner now feels like a distant memory.

The nightmare's weight bears down on you, and you try to call out, but your voice is just a whisper. You shift frantically on the sofa, mirroring the turmoil of your dreams. The room blurs, its boundaries fading, and you struggle to break free from the torment.

In the midst of this dark dream, you long for the comforting presence of your fiancé, the anchor in your life's stormiest seas. As you shift on the sofa, your chest tightens, and the room dissolves into darkness. You yearn for their gentle touch, the reassurance that would banish the nightmare's grip.

The memories came rushing back, unrelenting and vivid. It was a nightmarish replay of that fateful evening, the rain pouring down relentlessly, your car broken and stranded. Desperation had driven you to seek refuge in Harry's house, thinking it was just around the corner.

The dread had settled in as you approached his front door. Knocking and calling out for him yielded no response. Panic began to gnaw at your insides, the rain soaking you to the bone. The eerie silence of the house only added to your growing unease.

Summoning your courage, you ventured inside, hoping to find some sign of him. Your footsteps echoed eerily on the wooden floors as you followed an inexplicable, otherworldly sound – a haunting, almost hypnotic melody of pleasure that seemed to resonate from the depths of his home.

The nightmare played out with agonizing clarity as you crept further into the house, the dim light casting eerie shadows on the walls. As you approached the kitchen, your heart plummeted in your chest, and your breath caught in your throat. There, in the dimly lit room, was Harry, his features distorted by the chilling glow of the refrigerator's light.

He stood in the kitchen, his lips stained crimson, and his gaze met yours with an intensity that sent shivers down your spine. In his hand, he held a blood bag, and the reality of the situation crashed over you like a tidal wave.

The moment you realized Harry's true nature as a vampire, terror surged through your veins. Without a second thought, you sprinted towards the front door, desperate to escape the horrifying truth that had been revealed.

But your escape was cut short. Before you could even reach the door, a blur of movement brought Harry in front of you, blocking your path. His expression, though soft, couldn't alleviate the sheer terror that had taken hold of you.

You stammered, your voice quivering,

"Harry, I... I didn't... I don’t…" Your words were an admission of both your hesitancy and your fear.

He extended a gentle hand toward you, his eyes pleading with an intensity that was almost heartrending. "M’so sorry y’had t’find out this way. I never meant f’y’to see this."

You stood there, your entire body trembling, unable to contain the fear that had gripped you. Your voice quivered as you finally, reluctantly, admitted out loud what Harry really was.

"You're a vampire," you whispered, your words filled with both horror and disbelief.

The room seemed to close in around you, and the knowledge of his true nature was an oppressive weight.

Tears welled up in your eyes as you pleaded,

"Please, don't hurt me." Your voice was laced with vulnerability and desperation, seeking some form of reassurance.

He reached out, a comforting gesture, his hand moving gently toward yours.

"I promise, I would never hurt you," he said, his voice soft and filled with genuine concern.

But as he tried to touch your hand, you recoiled, pulling away as if his very presence was a threat. The realisation hit him like a punch in the gut, and his expression shifted from soft concern to one of profound sadness.

"You're scared of me," he murmured, his voice heavy with sorrow and acceptance.

That’s when a psychotic grin overtook his facial features, him muttering out one singular word:

“Good.’

You couldn't bring yourself to respond. The distance between you, both physical and emotional, had grown immeasurable in that moment. The love you had once shared felt like a fragile, shattered thing, and the knowledge of his true identity had torn a rift between you that you couldn't see how to bridge.

The tension between you and Harry escalated, and you recoiled from his attempt to reach out, the atmosphere took a dark and chilling turn. Instead of the nightmare ending like before, he pounced on you with unnatural speed, and his icy grip closed around your throat.

In an instant, his fangs sank into your neck, sending searing pain coursing through your body. You screamed in agony as the world spun into a nightmarish frenzy. The room around you twisted and contorted, and the very fabric of reality seemed to unravel.

Your screams grew louder and more desperate until, mercifully, they tore through the dream's fragile veil and brought you back to consciousness in the real world.

you jolted awake, gasping for breath, your chest heaving as if you had just run a marathon. The remnants of the dream clung to your consciousness like a sinister shadow, refusing to let go.

Your heart hammered in your chest, a relentless percussion of fear. Each beat resonated in your ears, pounding like a drum. The room was shrouded in darkness, save for the faint glow of the moon seeping through the curtains, casting eerie shapes upon the walls.

Your entire body was wracked with shivers, and you clung to the blankets that your lover must have placed over you, as if they were your lifeline.

The nightmare's grip had been so real, so visceral, that it left you physically shaking. Cold sweat covered your skin, and the sensation of phantom fangs against your neck still sent shivers down your spine.

Sensing your distress, Harry, your fiancé, was by your side in an instant. He had a calming presence, his eyes reflecting deep concern.

"S’wrong? Are y’okay?" Harry asked, his voice laced with worry as he placed a gentle hand on your shoulder. "Y’safe now. M’here with ye’."

You struggled to find the words, still trembling from the lingering fear of the nightmare.

"I... I had a terrible dream. It felt so real," you managed to stammer.

He pulled you closer, wrapping you in a comforting embrace.

"Y’don't ‘ave t’talk about it if y’not ready. M’right ere’, and I won't go anywhere until y’want t’share," he reassured, his arms a protective shield against the lingering shadows.

You leaned into him, finding solace in his presence.

As you nestled into his comforting presence, he gently stroked your hair, his voice soothing, "M’heard y’heart beating really fast from the kitchen."

Tears welled up in your eyes as you recounted the nightmarish ending to the dream.

"It was different this time," you whispered, your voice trembling. "After I found out you were a vampire, in the dream, you attacked me. I was so scared."

Harry held you tighter, his cold skin cooling your sweaty brow.

"Shh," he whispered, "I would never hurt y’not in a million years. S’just a dream, m’love, just a terrible dream."

Your hands wrapped around his neck, seeking his closeness, as his arms cradled you, comforting you through the nightmare's lingering shadows.

Seated at the table with your man, you listened to him as he tried to lighten the mood and make you feel better. He spoke animatedly about all the movies you were going to watch tonight, his enthusiasm infectious.

"Hey," he began with a playful smile, "I've been thinking about our movie night. I've got a whole list of films we can watch. How about we start with a classic? Maybe a romantic comedy or a heartwarming drama to set the mood?"

His words brought a small but genuine smile to your face, a welcome distraction from the earlier nightmare. It was in moments like these that you realized just how well he knew you. Movie nights with Harry had always been a cherished part of your relationship, a time to unwind, relax, and enjoy each other's company.

He continued, "And after that, we could dive into something thrilling. A suspenseful mystery or a mind-bending sci-fi flick. The choice is all yours, m’love."

You couldn't help but appreciate his effort to brighten the evening. The thought of escaping into the world of movies with him was an enticing one. As you discussed potential film choices and debated which one to start with, the weight of the nightmare seemed to recede further into the background.

As you prepared to respond to Harry's movie suggestions, a sudden cough caught you off guard. It started as a minor tickle in your throat, and you cleared it, thinking it was nothing to worry about. But then, you looked up and saw Harry staring at your mouth with an intense and almost alarmed expression.

"What's the matter?" you asked, puzzled by the sudden change in his demeanour.

He leaned closer, his eyes locked on your mouth, and you couldn't help but wonder what had caught his attention.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice filled with concern.

Before you could answer, another bout of coughing overtook you. This time, it was more forceful, and you couldn't control it. When the fit subsided, you looked at your hands and realized they were now stained with blood. Panic and confusion swept over you.

You stood up with the intention of getting a towel to clean up a spilled drink or some water. However, as you took that first step, something felt terribly wrong. Your balance seemed to betray you, and before you could react, you lost control. It was as if your legs gave way beneath you, and you crumpled to the ground.

Fear and confusion gripped you as you lay there, unresponsive. Your mind raced, trying to make sense of what had just happened. Your limbs felt heavy, and you struggled to move. The world around you seemed distant and surreal.

Harry, your fiancé, who had been nearby, rushed to your side. His voice was filled with concern as he tried to rouse you. "Are y’okay? Can y’hear me?"

You wanted to respond, to reassure him that you were fine, but your body refused to obey your commands. Panic welled up inside you as you lay there, caught in a state of immobility. Harry's voice grew more urgent, and you could hear the worry in his tone.

In the moment of distress, Harry's voice was filled with a deep sense of concern.

"M’taking y’to the hospital," he said firmly, the worry etched across his face. "Everything is going t’be okay, I promise."

You wanted to respond, to reassure him that you were alright, but your unresponsive state prevented any words from escaping your lips. Fear coursed through you as you lay there, unable to convey your thoughts or understand the severity of your situation.

Gently, Harry lifted you into his arms, cradling you as if you were the most precious thing in the world. The sensation was both comforting and surreal, as he held you in a secure and protective embrace. His vampire abilities granted him strength and speed beyond the reach of any human, and in the blink of an eye, you were whisked away to the hospital.

The journey felt surreal, like a blur of motion, as you were carried through the night at incredible speed. The world passed by in a haze, and the distant wails of sirens grew louder as you approached the hospital. Harry's cool skin against your own served as a reminder of the otherworldly nature of the person who was carrying you to safety.

As you arrived at the hospital, Harry gently placed you on a gurney, concern etched across his face.

In an instant, he returned to his normal speed and raced into the hospital's reception area. His urgency was palpable as he shouted, "I need help! M’fiancée needs help!"

Doctors and medical staff immediately rushed over, their training kicking into action as they assessed your condition.

Harry stood by, explaining the situation in rapid and concise terms. "She just collapsed at home, unresponsive, and I have no idea what happened. Please, y’need t’help her."

As the doctors swiftly moved the gurney into a nearby room, Harry instinctively tried to follow them, concern etched across his face. But one of the doctors gently held out a hand to stop him.

"I'm sorry, sir, but you'll need to wait outside until we have more information," he explained.

Harry's eyes reflected his distress as he looked from the doctor to you. His voice quivered with worry as he asked, "Can I please stay with er’? I can't leave er’ alone."

The doctor's expression was sympathetic but resolute. "We need to conduct some tests and evaluations. It's essential that we have space to work. We'll update you as soon as we know more. Your fiancée is in good hands, I promise."

Harry couldn't hide his mounting frustration and anxiety as the doctor prevented him from entering the room.

"She doesn't like t’be alone. She's going t’be scared when she wakes up. She needs me," he exclaimed, his voice trembling with emotion.

The doctor's expression remained stern, a mixture of understanding and duty in his eyes. "I know it's difficult, but we need to conduct our assessments and keep a controlled environment. Please, Mr. Styles, try to understand."

Harry's patience was wearing thin. He was torn between his desire to be with you and his respect for the medical staff's procedures. He took a deep breath and said, "I can't just sit here, knowing she's in there all alone. What if she wakes up and m’not there?"

The doctor's voice was compassionate as he responded, "I promise, we're doing everything we can to help her. The best way you can support her right now is to wait for updates. If you don't calm down, we'll have to call security to escort you out of the hospital."

Harry glared at the doctor, frustration and fear warring within him. He knew that with his vampire abilities, he could easily overpower the doctor and be by your side in an instant. However, he also knew that you wouldn't want him to kick off or create a scene.

Reluctantly, he backed away from the door and sank into a chair, his hands trembling with the pent-up tension. He had to trust in the medical team and the procedures in place, even if it felt like an eternity until he could be with you again.

Minutes stretched into hours, and Harry's worry and fear only deepened. He couldn't shake the feeling of helplessness, the knowledge that you were alone in that room. He longed to be by your side, to provide the reassurance that only he could offer.

After what felt like an eternity of anxious waiting, the doctor finally emerged from the room where you were being assessed. Harry was on his feet in an instant, his eyes locked on the doctor's face, desperate for any news about your condition.

The doctor approached him with a solemn expression, recognizing the turmoil Harry was going through. "I understand how difficult this has been for you, Mr. Styles. Your fiancée has asked that the results be discussed with you in the room. She didn't want to be alone. Please come with me."

A surge of mixed emotions washed over Harry. Relief that he would soon be by your side, tempered by the anticipation of what the results might reveal.

He nodded, his voice unsteady as he said, "Thank ye’. I need t’be with er’."

The doctor led Harry back into the room, where you lay, waiting for answers. You were pale but conscious, your eyes reflecting the same concern and love that Harry felt. The sight of you, awake and aware, was a welcome relief.

As Harry took a seat by your side, the doctor began to explain the preliminary results of the tests.

You held Harry's hand tightly, seeking comfort in his presence as the doctor provided the information you both had been waiting for.

The doctor began by reassuring you both, "I'm pleased to inform you that there were no abnormalities in your blood work. Everything appears to be completely fine."

Relief washed over both you and Harry. It was as if a weight had been lifted from your shoulders.

Your grip on Harry's hand loosened slightly, and a small, grateful smile touched your lips. It was the best news you could have hoped for, given the circumstances.

The doctor's tone turned more sombre as he continued, "However, regarding the episode of coughing up blood, we couldn't immediately determine the exact reason for it. It's a concerning symptom, and we're actively investigating the cause."

You and Harry exchanged glances, concerned etching across both of your faces. The uncertainty surrounding the coughing episode left you with a nagging sense of unease. Harry's hand tightened around yours, providing a steady source of support.

The doctor continued, "We have initiated a series of more specific tests and consultations to get to the root of the issue. Our goal is to uncover the cause and ensure that we address it properly. Rest assured, we are doing everything we can to find answers."

Your heart was heavy with worry, but the doctor's dedication and commitment to finding a solution gave you a glimmer of hope. The road ahead might still be uncertain, but knowing that the medical team was actively working to determine the cause of the episode provided a measure of reassurance.

You nodded, your voice steady as you replied, "Thank you for your efforts. We trust that you'll do your best to get to the bottom of this. We're ready to face whatever comes our way."

The doctor cleared their throat, breaking the heavy silence in the room.

"There's one more thing we need to discuss with you," they said, their tone gentle but firm. "Based on our examination and test results, it appears that you're approximately nine weeks pregnant."

The shock that rippled through you was palpable, and you felt as though your world had suddenly turned upside down.

Your initial reaction was one of denial, your mind racing to find any reason to dispute the doctor's words.

You knew for a fact that your boyfriend, Harry, was a vampire, and as far as you understood, that was impossible.

"I can't be pregnant," you stammered, shaking your head. "It's not possible."

The doctor maintained their calm demeanor , explaining, "I understand that this may come as a surprise, but the tests confirm it. The nurse will be in shortly to perform an ultrasound to confirm the pregnancy."

Beside you, Harry remained utterly silent, his head buried in his hands.

The realisation had left him equally stunned, and he was grappling with his own set of emotions.

The prospect of parenthood was a complex and unexpected turn of events.

As the nurse arrived to conduct the ultrasound, the room was filled with a mix of emotions - disbelief, confusion, and, for you, an overwhelming sense of denial. You wanted to believe that there had been some kind of mistake.

The ultrasound technician prepared the equipment, offering you reassuring words while giving Harry a sympathetic nod. The cool gel on your abdomen felt surreal, and as the image of the tiny, flickering heartbeat appeared on the screen, it became undeniably real.

Tears welled up in your eyes as you saw the undeniable proof on the monitor.

The doctor gently said, "You're expecting, and it's a healthy pregnancy. Congratulations."

The day had worn on, and the hospital room felt oppressively still. You sat on the bed, tear stains marking your face like silent witness to the emotional storm that had raged within you. The news of your unexpected pregnancy had left your world in chaos, and the weight of it all was almost suffocating.

Beside you, Harry sat in a chair, his silence a chasm that seemed to stretch endlessly. He hadn't said a single word to you since the revelation, and the absence of his voice was deafening.

The tension in the room was palpable, a wall of unspoken emotions that seemed insurmountable. You longed for his reassurance, his comforting presence, but it felt as though a divide had grown between you.

It was as though the world you had known had been shattered, replaced by a reality you were unprepared to face. The uncertainty of parenthood, the complexities it brought, and the unspoken fear of how Harry's vampiric nature would affect your child loomed over you both.

You had questions, doubts, and a multitude of feelings you wanted to express, but the silence was stifling. Each moment that passed without his words was a painful reminder of the gulf that had opened between you.

Harry's head was bowed, his features etched with a complex mixture of emotions. The weight of the situation bore down on him just as heavily, and it left you both grappling with a future that seemed uncertain and fraught with challenges.

In the midst of the silence, your heart ached with the need for connection, for understanding, for some semblance of reassurance that you were in this together. But the room remained heavy with unspoken angst, and the isolation you both felt seemed insurmountable.

The tears had long since dried, leaving a dull ache in their wake.

The heavy silence that had hung between you both in the hospital room felt unbearable. Tear stains marked your face, and your voice trembled as you broke the quietude with a hesitant, "I'm sorry..."

For a moment, Harry remained as still as stone, and the silence threatened to return, but your words had been a crack in the dam that held back a torrent of emotions. Slowly, he turned his head to look at you, and it was then that you saw the tear stains on his cheeks, mirroring your own.

In the soft, dim light of the room, his eyes glistened with unshed tears, and he took a deep, shuddering breath. His voice was raw, filled with a vulnerability you had rarely seen from him as he confessed, "I didn't think it would be possible... I've had to live for four hundred years without a family. It's something I've always wanted, but I never thought it could happen because of what I am."

Tears welled up in your eyes as you listened to him, the weight of his words settling heavily in your chest. The pain and longing in his voice struck a chord deep within you. You reached out to take his hand, the touch a gesture of understanding and support.

He continued, the words flowing from him in an emotional torrent. "I've been alone for so long, and now, with you, I finally thought I could have something that I'd only ever dreamed of. A family. But the thought of putting you or our child in danger because of what I am... It terrifies me."

You squeezed his hand gently, offering him a small but reassuring smile. "Harry, we'll find a way to make this work. We're in this together, and we'll do everything we can to keep our family safe. You're going to be an amazing father."

He blinked back his tears, his expression a mixture of gratitude and hope. The room, once fraught with angst and silence, had transformed into a space filled with the weight of your shared dreams, the determination to make them come true, and the understanding that together, you could navigate the complexities of this unexpected journey.

This was your impossible miracle.

#musicforastylesrestaurant #fictober23 #harry styles #harry styles angst #harry styles au #harry styles blurb #harry styles fluff #harry styles imagine #harry styles masterlist #harry styles fake ig #harry styles headcanon #harry styles x oc

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anantaru · 1 year

Text

✦ ۫ 𑄼ల۫ ۪ DEC 18TH — WARMING YOU UP

featuring: kaeya, venti, zhongli, kaveh, tighnari, cyno, kazuha, ayato x fem! reader

warnings: n.sfw, dacryphilia (venti), ૮⍝◠ ·̫ ◠⍝ა | event.

✦ 𝐊𝐀𝐄𝐘𝐀

you allowed yourself to lay back into the soft cushions of your bed.

you do not speak, but your breathing was fastened by the blissful wrap of kaeya's arms around your parted legs.

now right here and there, the sheer motion of his face lowered itself into you, the growing heat within your core sank down through your bones, covering the entirety of your nerves with the throb of your soft pussy yearning the touch of your lover.

"there?" from the start, he will tease you, always, tickling the desperation out of your now crumbling body as you mewled sensually, your eyes pulling daggers into his bronzed skin.

your fingers quickly got a hold of his long hair, fondling through the unruly strands to keep him as close to your most desired place as possible. "t-there."

"you're breathtaking when you're so open for me, you know that?"

with your eyes sliding close upon perceiving his warm breath on your tingling clit, you fell back to indulge, time stilling.

for some it might seem like nothingness, but the way kaeya handled your body couldn't be described in its totality.

easy, tender and without added pressure, as if you were to break under him any moment. His eyes were gentle too, the glow of love was visible on his dilated pupils, covering his blue eyes.

"let me take care of you beautiful, it's okay."

before anything, kaeya was gathering enough spit on his tongue, he prodded the wet muscle out to slick around the entirety of your spongy folds, smearing the filth on your pussy.

kaeya treasured your taste, the sweet scent and your hitching noises whenever he pranced his tongue deeper, buried himself past your labia to hit your clit, so close and maddening, you couldn't possibly hold back the desire to forcefully push him down your ache.

the unbearably sensual combination of his wet and skilled tongue had your brain laced in pure ecstasy, building your arousal with little to no control left on your body.

✦ 𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐈

at first, you barely felt the handiwork venti put you through, after all his fingers were simply stirring over your warm cunt, not doing much.

you could say it was a slight habit of his, he'd always prepare you before fucking you roughly into wherever he had split you open on.

you were aware that your boyfriend was in fact, a little piece of shit, who never knew when to stop annoying and teasing the living hell out of your being.

but even then, even when venti realized you were on the brink of crying from overstimulation, he wouldn't stop himself right away because you see, in a way that sinful expression was what he wanted to be gifted with in the first place.

"your reactions are so cute."

he murmurs into your ear, his voice was so kind and tender, but the menacing tendencies in them made you shake, the complete opposite of his pseudo sweetness was viewable when he used his fingers to relentlessly fuck in and out of your clenching hole.

it didn't surprise you on how skilled venti was with his slender digits, it's as if he had you figured out from the start, letting you grind into them.

how come you didn't even have to show him your favorite spots the first time he had you splayed under him?

this man had targeted them from the very start, fumbling himself deeper within you gooey walls while messily fumbling and touching you with his roughed up finger pads.

"v-venti please, i can't anymore."

his sight suddenly widened, the beginning of one tear, just one, would surely have more follow suit and he knew, he always did.

in a single motion, venti drew himself to you while kissing away the lonely warm tear that drooled down your cheek, gathering it on his lips before messily licking it up.

"come on now darling! i'm almost done and you're doing such a great job for me, i'm truly flattered!"

the brief stilling of his fingers wasn't held long as he adjusted his pace, digging himself to the hilt into your sobbing sensitivity and remembering to curve his digits up whenever he met your desired spot.

he slipped in and out in a chorus of rough strokes with your hips beginning to do circling motions into them, meeting his filthy touch while fluttering and twisting around his thin fingers.

his grin would never slip away, not when you're looking like this, fucked into delirium from nothing more than a mere of two digits.

✦ 𝐙𝐇𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐋𝐈

zhongli muttered dirty nothings into your ears, things he wanted to do and experience with you and your person alone.

fuck, he needed you right now, his cock was desperately straining his pants and causing him to heavily pant out through his clenched up jaw.

"m-my control is fading." he's grunting, digging his hands into the disheveled sheets to regain some of that long lost control.

it was safe to say that his slacks were already ruined by your slick covering and drenching them in whole. You knew he wasn't done with you yet, not now, not ever, his stamina was out from this world.

but really, it was his fault and not yours!

no one forced him to slowly grind his hips and dry hump into you, rubbing his hard hidden member on top of your drenched swollen pussy.

"i-i need you, zhongli."

you responded weakly, with a husky voice as you propped your hips up to show him your messy pussy, stretching your legs farther apart as he carried on with rutting himself on you.

he was shamelessly grunting and groaning before he forced himself to speak to you, "my hunger for you will never be queried."

quivering in response he had you caged underneath and you were accepting it, maneuvering deeper, zhongli rubbed both his clothed member and the rough material on your drenched nerves, urging you to moan in bliss.

his fingers brushed beneath your chin to hold it up, motioning you to his hungry lips as he captured you in a languid kiss, feverishly pulling his tongue out to bury it into your wet mouth.

on this, you weren't struggling to imagine how the curve of his throbbing member would feel like, the pressure inside your core mounting, cry on cry.

✦ 𝐊𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐇

at a single push forward, you got caught in utter euphoria, sudden tension thrumming through your frame as kaveh dragged himself past you with your swollen flesh capturing him fully.

"f-fuck." his whines were music to your ears, how they were slightly higher than his normal voice, primally to his initial tone, he had now become a cursing little mess.

"h-how are you still so tight for me, hmm?"

how your boyfriend couldn't control himself was gathering your cheeks within a warm sensation.

his over the top dirty talk didn't help one bit, kaveh could overdo himself quite a bit in that aspect but you didn't mind, it was a compliment from how far gone your pussy could make him.

you, of course, couldn't blame him, kaveh prized how tight you were, how you twisted and throbbed on his shaft without a single care in this world. How your sloppy cunt was all the more messy with him stuffing you full.

his little darling surely knew how to drive him into despair, unbearable madness without a way out, not before he cummed at least and covered you in his bittersweet cum.

"fuck baby you're so tight, f-fuck, you want me dead."

and again, your body shook and squealed at his sudden smirk, his before slow hips skillfully working, pressuring additional pleasure into your core.

your spine was curved up now, grimly bending and arching at another punctuated rut from your boyfriend who had nothing else in mind than making you cum first, he had to.

you were so unbelievably ravishing tonight, his loins were on fire from nothing more than your crossed eyed face, chin covered in drool and spit with your cries turning louder each thrust.

the combination on your lower area of both piercing pleasure with faint pain laced around it was addicting, every fiber of your consciousness gathering itself into the depths of your skin before it dissolved into nothing more than total submission to your lover.

✦ 𝐓𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐍𝐀𝐑𝐈

tighnari's interest in you sharpened the moment he had seen you, so for him to have you in all your glory now, bare and beautiful, while bouncing up and down his cock, felt surreal.

was he really not dreaming right now?

truly, he thought he was imagining things, the moment passion took you over, this one time, not one of you was able to walk away, not when the tension flowing through you was as defeating as it, well, was.

"i-is this all you got?"

what a jerk, obviously he was his usual self, even while you fucked his brains out. Tighnari couldn't hold back his filthy tongue, not this time and probably not ever.

his hands were helping you rub yourself back and forth yet they haltered at last, sliding all the way up your bouncing breasts to grab them, catching them in his palms, suddenly squeezing the flesh with a squeal escaping you next.

"fuck, tighnari!"

you mewled at the rough fondling of his hands, arching your back while additionally applying more pressure on your already burning hips. "you're too rough."

it was gruesome, that's what it was, you were certain he was intentionally not helping you out much, he just had to have that last dwindling string of control you both eagerly grasped after.

"let me hear you, come on." he let his hands rub circles and spirals over your swollen nipples before forcefully pinching them in between his pads, catching you off guard.

you could only give him a lost embarrassing smile, his words made you all giddy with your head feeling heavy. All the greater was your work on him now, his slick covered cock was slipping out of you carelessly and the sharp pain from before was barely to be perceived at all.

well, well, you were still a panting mess from the fast tempo and it wouldn't take you long until you practically collapsed your body on top of his from over exhaustion.

before you knew it, you were already met by the thrill of his own authority when he pulled you down to sharply share a hard kiss. His lips were hungrily seeking yours, leaning into your softness with his mouth framed in an annoying smirk.

the result of it was now with tighnari thrusting up your heat, so unbelievably fast and messy, the pain in your legs was surely fleeting but now you could barely feel them if anything, almost as if they had turned numb from the sheer strength behind his sloppy cock.

all the cries and moans were filling the room that had a piercing scent of sex and pleasure, your whimpers were all the more thrilling and archons, tighnari would make sure to have you remember this night.

✦ 𝐂𝐘𝐍𝐎

cyno simply refused to keep his mouth shut while you were suckling on his cock all too well.

after all, he wanted, no, needed you to know on how good you made him feel and how thankful he was for your skilled tongue twisting around his shaft, grating perfectly over his impressive cock.

the blood in his groin was hardening and pulsating roughly throughout his entire length, his hands grew cold from the sensation of your mouth sucking blatant euphoria on the tender, thin skin.

if only you were aware he was fantasizing about this scenario all day while at work. He knew better than this but couldn't stop himself regardless, cyno groaned louder now, shuddering as you massaged his balls in your warm palm.

another swallow lifted off him when he lowered his head to watch you suck, rub your sweet lips up and down his swollen cock, the drool messily blurting over the entirety of his member, without leaving his balls uncovered.

as tired and low lidded as his eyes were, he still didn't once close them, the sight of you on your knees for him, it's certain you were going to feel it in your legs the next day.

he gathered the courage to drag you down further, making your mouth take him much deeper until you physically weren't able to proceed anymore.

"k-keep taking me like that."

his voice was beginning to be raspy now with the additional breaks of his words. You took a deep breath through your nose and gulped a little, flexing your throat while being stuffed full as you proceeded, this time faster.

"a-archons, you're amazing."

your mouth was assembling enough spit and cum together to have it as comfortable as possible for cyno, he craved it that way. As much as he denied said fact, the messier it got, the harder he'd cum in you.

you persisted to keep it going, as always, to get him over the edge and let him cover your face in his white milk you gravely yearned for this night.

✦ 𝐊𝐀𝐙𝐔𝐇𝐀

kazuha's breath was heavy on your collarbone with his teeth nibbling the dampened skin.

you could be such a brat sometimes and he knew, he always did. Yet despite his usual gentle nature, kazuha could be quite rough with you, more so when you obviously displayed traits of a sweet, little brat who didn't know any better.

did you do it on purpose? obviously. But who wouldn't do it if their boyfriend would react the exact same way as kazuha did.

he's barely touched you, at all, only gently nudging his upper leg over your sobbing folds as he watched you bubble with further excitement, that without you knowing, would never get satiated.

"hmm how interesting." his voice was always gentle, but this time it had something menacing to it, something that wasn't able to be looked into, his eyes were glowing with both desire and anticipation.

all the fondling had heightened your senses, had made you more sensitive and salivating at his growing reaction standing up while throbbing in his hand.

his next words were followed with a punctuated rut with his leg on your tingling walls, "hah- it seems like you're close, don't hide it from me now." the grin on his face made you gasp with your spine rolling upwards, your cunt slicking him all up without giving a damn.

it was sort of embarrassing to you, to be placed in a position like that.

the fact he hadn't touched you properly yet and you still were a wet swollen mess, smearing him full and aching at every little pleasure he'd inflict on you.

he had you in such a sensitive state now, both your body and mind, it was as if he had taken over the authority in your entirety, letting you bear the weight of his punctuated ways to make you scream.

continuing to grate his leg into you, sometimes harder sometimes with only a small amount of added pressure to switch it up, your gasps had only gotten louder and entailed.

"i might make you cum if you're nicer to me next time."

✦ 𝐀𝐘𝐀𝐓𝐎

ayato could never deny the fact that eating you out relaxed his muscles and spirit, it's a required daily thing for him to do whenever he saw you.

as luck would have it, he was especially skilled with his sloppy muscle, making sure to gather enough spit on it to plaster it on your folds first, proceeding down to meet your gushing hole.

planting an additional kiss on your heat made you roll your eyes back greatly, the sense of worship each kiss had was mesmerizing.

because, yes, ayato worshipped you, his wonderful darling, your pussy was so fucking hot and ravishing, he wanted to bury it in his cum and claim you in so many more ways imaginable.

the back and forth of both tender suckles and rougher licks on you developed a tightened grip on your stomach with your muscles crying out, it was intimate and surreal, how much you missed him was insane.

ayato was slowly stroking a hand down from your chest to your navel before gathering his thumb over your clit to press right past the flesh of your pussy to hit the spot particularly well.

with your next squeals of his boldness, his eyes met yours in a thrill of hunger, "i'm not done with you yet." a sweet grin laced on his swollen lips as he drew himself back in, working both his tongue and thumb in sync.

his hair strands would fall into his face to hide his intoxicating features with your hands quickly catching them to smoother them back.

you settled on the soft sheets underneath with your eyes pointed to the ceiling until falling close at last, crying out at his electrifying way of savoring your being.

maybe it was due to the fact that the both of you rarely saw each other, but whenever you got intimate with it would turn better the more you had been apart from each other.

the hunger in his antics was immediately to be recognized, so dearly when ayato began to hump the mattress under him with his hands keeping you tightly to his head, groaning breathlessly.

smearing your slick over his cheeks, his warm breath wasn't anything but cooling, the growing mewls he pulled out of your throat had him moan into your pussy, over and over, his tongue now swiping alone your hole to swallow the huge amount of liquids that had sank down from you.

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sprout-fics · 10 months

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I have a soft Thursday thot to throw out of my brain:

I feel like Ghost would actually be the best at comforting someone if they had an anxiety/panic attack. Like, the lot of them are spending time together, and something happens— someone slams something, someone breaks something, whatever.

One of them (e.g. ME, it’s I, I’m the problem) stops dead in their tracks, blood drains from their face, tears almost come out, and he’s there to gently pull them outside, away from everyone. He just talks. Maybe wipes away any tears that come out. But just gently soothes them; you’re safe, breathe with me, everything’s alright.

He understands all too well the fear gripping tight at their throat, the dread that sinks into their bones, the sheer panic that threatens to make them collapse from within. He’s there to pull them back down to earth. No one fights alone.

Hi anon, I'm sorry this took me so long to answer but it really spoke to me. I agree that once Simon figures out what's going on he'll try his best to help, knowing he has gone through the same thing. He's maybe a little abrasive at first, but in the end he knows what it's like to be a victim of fear, so he'll do what he can to bring you down.

Tw: Panic attacks, mentions of captivity and torture, hyperventilation

It’s your first deployment since your rescue. It had taken time to build back up your strength and heal your injuries from the interrogation that occurred while you were in captivity. The weight of your plate and gear feels oddly foreign to you, removed from your memories. Even the weapon in your hands feels heavier than you remember, sluggish as you aim and fire at approaching enemies.

Ghost is at your side, a mammoth figure that keeps you in his shadow, takes point as you move through the abandoned village. The fabric of his scarf wafts softly in the sandy breeze, the town silent except for the suppressed gunfire that echoes out with every shot.

You’re trying to ignore the stammer of your heartbeat, trying to will your breath into steadiness despite the trembling grasp on your rifle. Ghost doesn’t seem to notice you behind him, doesn’t turn to see the wild, fearful look written across your gaze as you desperately try and swallow down panic.

This was a bad idea. You aren’t ready. You should have stayed behind. You can’t-

Something clatters at your feet.

Your eyes fall to it at the same time as Ghost, but unlike him you don’t move out of the way, staring at the grenade with a horrible, rotten dread that freezes you to the spot.

There’s a hand that seizes you by the back of your vest, hauls you backwards so abruptly you nearly lose your weapon. Ghost’s voice is a roar in your ear, words you can’t hear, blood rising and panic overtaking you as you try again to swallow it down, down, down-

“DOWN!!” He bellows, and you’re pressed behind a wall, into the soft dusty earth with his form splayed heavy atop you. The grenade explodes a split second later, shaking the entire earth around you like it’s fit to crumble. You don’t even scream, eyes wide as dust floats over you both, entire body rigid and frozen. Even when Ghost rises off of you to fire at whoever threw the grenade you can’t move. You try, but your body stops responding, mind filling in the emptiness where movement should be, racing and spreading sickly heat pulsing through your chest.

You can’t breathe. Oh god, you can’t breathe.

“Alpha team, how copy?!” Ghost snaps into his comms, irritated.

There’s a crackle of the radio as the other team answers.

“Alpha all clear. Bravo how copy?”

“Clear.” Ghost responds after a moment of scanning the surrounding buildings for any other hostiles. “Move down range, we’ll RV in five.”

“Copy that.”

You listen to the exchange as if you can’t inhabit your own body, and you try to imagine yourself sitting up, standing, following Ghost as he moves forward. Yet you can’t move, can barely breathe, hands trembling and eyes wide, unseeing. There’s a horrible nausea that rises in your stomach, makes you want to crumple over and retch into the sand, but you can’t even manage that much.

“Sergeant, what the bloody hell was that?!” Ghost spins on your, hissing, only to find you face up in the sand, a white knuckle grip on your rifle as you try to remember the bodily command to breathe.

“Sergeant?”

It should be so simple. Inhale, exhale. Breathe in, breathe out. Breathe in-

Two large hands grab you by the straps of your vest, and the air comes rushing back all at once. You struggle, a desperate, cracked protest releasing in a whoosh of air as you try to scuffle backwards.

“Hey. Hey.” Ghost grunts, trying to keep a hold on you. “Kid, look at me. Look at me.”

You do, stare past the charcoal around his eyes and into his stare, trying to remember his name amidst the madness of your mind.

“G-Ghost.”

He exhales through the mask, the hands on your shoulders relaxing at they pin you seated against the crumbling stone wall.

“That’s right. Just me.” He tells you, gentler now that he’s realized what’s going on. “You’re having a panic attack. Try and breathe.”

You’re trying, you’re trying, but when your breathe still comes in uneven, gasping inhales Ghost draws you back to him, locks eyes with you as you shudder.

“On me.” He tells you, and you hear him take a deep breath. You follow as he holds, exhales, and then again when he counts. In for four, hold for seven, out for eight. It’s hard, but you manage to follow along through some miracle, and eventually Ghost’s voice drops to silence as you continue to steady yourself.

“That’s it.” He rumbles, voice softer, sympathetic. “You’re alrigh’. Keep breathing.”

There’s a copy of the radio as Alpha team checks in, and Ghost is quick to dismiss it.

“Medical emergency, standby.” He tells them, and there’s a pause when they ask if they should send a medic or call of exfil.

“No need.” Ghost responds. “I’ve got it handled.”

You let out the breath you had been holding when Alpha sends an affirmative response, feeling the tension unwind from your shoulders under Ghost’s palms.

There’s a pause then, as you sink into yourself, feeling the pulsating fear begin to ebb bot not vanish completely. Your eyes fall to your lap, to your trembling hands and sand coated greaves.

Ghost seems like he wants to say something, form tensing as he tries to find the word, at last providing: “You aren’t…there anymore.”

You look up at him then, blinking at his words. Ghost’s eyes are half-lidded as they look down at you, as if he himself is lost in his memories just like you. For a moment, it sounds almost as if he’s speaking to himself.

“They’re dead.” He tells you, voice a little distant, quiet. “They can’t hurt you anymore.”

They’re dead, you remind yourself. Your captors, the ones who kidnapped and tortured you, they’re dead. Ghost helped see to it himself, had been the one to carry your limp body to the medics, had held your hand for just a moment before you were pulled away.

He’s right, and as you close your eyes, feel the weight of the memory and the fear fade, you remember not the feeling of fear, but of safety.

With him. With Simon.

#simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #requests #x reader #reader insert #gender nuetral reader #simon ghost riley imagine #my writing #my fic #my stuff #we're...going to conveniently ignore that this was sent in December #I'm so so freaking sorry anon

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midnight-moth · 4 days

Text

I threw this in Comet’s ask box for comfort ghoul thoughts a little while ago but it is pretty much my Zeph characterization. I guess I rambled about Ifrit a lot more.

560 words no big CWs just Zeph in pain and Ifrit and Omega hunting him down and forcing him to accept help.

His joints very angry, and very swollen. His thumb is practically locked in place, as though the cartilage cushioning his bones has dissolved and his fingers are fused in the 36251 progression position.

He doesn’t play nearly as much as he used to. Only Sundays, forgoing the weekday morning and evening mass. He isn’t that pious. But the weak heat being pumped into that old building seems to be desperate to escape the cracks in the vaulted ceiling as soon as it’s released.

Ever the stoic ghoul, he never complains. He just retreats to his quarters and soaks his aching hands in hot water, massages salves made by Ivy into his skin.

He thinks no one notices. But his pack would notice a single hair on his head out of place, and they certainly notice the way his spine favors leaning to the left when he plays, and the way his hand shakes when he grips his fork at dinner.

This particular Sunday was the coldest yet. He could be seen shivering in between psalms. And most shocking, his timing was off. Maybe not to the pedestrian ear of the siblings, but certainly to the trained ones of Ifrit and Omega.

As soon as his part in the service was complete he snuck away through the concealed door normally reserved for Sister and Papa.

He would’ve ran to his room, if he was capable of more than anything but a lopsided hobble.

He told himself he wasn’t going to break but as soon as he closed the door, ever so softly as if he didn’t even want to alert the mice to his presence, he slumped against it and the dam broke.

They were right. He just needed to stop. Or at least he would, if he continued to politely balk at the help offered.

Before his body could touch the ground, he found himself being lifted back up by two sets of strong arms. Arms belonging to Ifrit and Omega.

“Oh, I’m fine - “ the countenance of bravery was essentially transparent and he was hushed with a single finger to his lips.

“Not now, we can talk later. Let us take care of you.”

He wasn’t sure if it was defeat or surrender, but he just let them.

Let Ifrit force warmth into his body, let Omega pull the pain away, offering soft grunts of concern at the sheer amount of it. Omega himself would need to be cleansed after this.

As they continued their ministrations, he felt some mobility return to his hands, he was able to straighten his spine where he lay in the warm cove of Ifrit’s chest.

He gave his fingers an exploratory wiggle, and if he were sobbing from pain before, now he was sobbing from relief. He forgot what the absence of pain felt like, had become the default.

“Thank you,” two small words that meant something big when it came to Zephyr, at least when it came to this. This acknowledgment that he needed their help. He needed them.

“Think nothing of it, until next time, when you need not wait until we all have to watch you suffer, and force ourselves on you.” Omega’s lecture sounded severe, but he lighted the mood when he gave Zeph a peck on the cheek.

For good measure, Ifrit added, “Yeah, you stubborn old goat.”

#he just doesn’t like being seen as weak #and he doesn’t want to be a burden #and he is just straight up stubborn #but ifrit is relentless #and most of the time he can pretend he just wants to cuddle #zephrit #also Omega #zephyr ghoul #Ifrit ghoul #omega ghoul #nameless ghouls #midnight moth writes

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elqsiian · 5 months

Text

protective ( miguel o'hara )

miguel o'hara x spider!reader slight use of y/n

warnings - description of injuries, sprinkle of angst and fluff

summary - when he's just a bit overprotective word count - 2,554

The rooftop felt like a battleground, the tension in the air thick enough to cut with a knife. The city below buzzed with life, oblivious to the emotional storm playing out between you and Miguel O'Hara. The cool night air held a hint of electricity, mirroring the sparks flying in the argument that unfolded.

Miguel's stern gaze met yours, his expression a mixture of frustration and genuine concern. Your own eyes, filled with determination and a touch of defiance, locked onto his. It started with a simple disagreement, a clash of ideologies, but beneath the surface, there were layers of unspoken emotions, each word carrying the weight of a shared history and a growing connection.

"You can't keep doing this, Miguel," your voice cut through the night air, and you could feel the emotions bubbling within you, a mix of frustration and a longing for understanding. "I can handle myself, you know."

Miguel's jaw tightened, a silent plea in his eyes. "This is dangerous, and I can't just stand by and watch you get hurt. You don't understand the risks involved."

The words hung in the air like a challenge, and you scoffed, a spark of defiance igniting within you. "I understand the risks perfectly well. I've been doing this long before you decided to swing into my universe. I don't need you to play the overprotective hero."

The rooftop seemed to shrink as the argument intensified. Every word exchanged was a volley in a battle neither of you wanted to lose. Miguel's frustration, born from genuine care, clashed with your need for independence. The emotional undercurrents simmered beneath the surface, threatening to spill over.

"I'm not doing this to annoy you, Y/N. I care about you, and I can't help but worry," Miguel admitted, his voice softer now, the edges of his frustration giving way to vulnerability.

Your eyes narrowed, your own emotions bubbling to the surface. "I get it, Miguel. But I can't have someone constantly watching over me, controlling every move I make. I need space, room to breathe."

The words hung between you like a challenge, a declaration of independence that clashed with Miguel's innate desire to protect. The rooftop felt like a battleground for more than just words; it was a clash of emotions, a struggle to find common ground.

Before he could respond, you turned on your heel, the air around you shimmering with the manifestation of a portal. The decision to leave was made in a moment of defiance, a desperate attempt to break free from the emotional turmoil. You leaped into the portal, the echoes of your argument still ringing in the air.

Your dimension’s New York City sprawled below, a dazzling labyrinth of lights as you swung effortlessly between buildings. The malevolent laughter of the Sinister Six reverberated through the night, signaling the beginning of a battle that would test the limits of your spider-hero abilities.

Rhino, a behemoth of brute force encased in impenetrable armor, charged through the streets with reckless abandon. The sheer impact of his charge sent shockwaves through the ground, creating a seismic battlefield. Attempting to evade his path, you executed a nimble somersault, but the miscalculation led to a direct collision. The impact rattled your bones, the shock absorbed by the advanced technology of your suit, but the aftermath left you with a persistent ache, a testament to the sheer force of Rhino's charge.

Electro, crackling with volatile energy, cast an eerie glow across the city. Bolts of lightning crackled through the air, and despite your acrobatic dodges, one found its mark. The searing jolt surged through your nervous system, momentarily paralyzing your muscles. Each twitch of your limbs felt like a struggle against the lingering effects of Electro's electrifying onslaught. The air was charged with the scent of ozone as you pressed on, determination overshadowing the lingering discomfort.

Green Goblin's aerial acrobatics brought chaos to the skies. Pumpkin bombs detonated in vibrant bursts, creating chaotic shockwaves. Attempting to evade the explosions, you found yourself caught in the concussive force of one. The impact sent you spiraling through the air, resulting in a harsh collision with a building. The blunt force trauma reverberated through your shoulder, a sharp pain flaring up as you grappled with the dizziness from the impact.

The mechanical precision of Doctor Octopus's tentacles presented a relentless challenge. With each strike, your reflexes were put to the test. A miscalculated evasion resulted in a laceration across your side as one of the metallic appendages slashed through your suit. Blood welled from the wound, staining the fabric and adding an additional layer of urgency to the battle. The pain, both sharp and throbbing, became a constant reminder of the ongoing struggle.

Vulture's aerial assaults were a relentless dance in the night sky. His talons sliced through the air with deadly accuracy, and despite your nimble evasions, a glancing blow left a series of shallow but stinging cuts across your forearm. The pain served as a stark reminder of the ever-present danger, and the persistent ache only fueled your determination to prevail.

The symphony of chaos reached its crescendo as the Sinister Six's coordinated attacks intensified. Rhino's charges became more unpredictable, Electro's lightning strikes more relentless, and Green Goblin's aerial bombardment more calculated. Doctor Octopus's tentacles lashed out with increased ferocity, and Vulture's talons sought vulnerable points with a newfound precision.

Despite the relentless onslaught, you pressed on with a resilience born from the responsibility of being a hero. Your suit, adorned with tears and scorch marks, bore witness to the intense battle. Each injury sustained became a testament to the unyielding spirit that defined a spider-hero. As you swung through the cityscape, dodging attacks and countering with acrobatic finesse, the adrenaline-fueled dance continued.

In the midst of the chaos, LYLA's voice echoed through your earpiece, "Y/N, emergency transport initiated."

A blinding light enveloped you, and the sounds of battle faded. The world spun, and for a moment, all you could see were flashes of E-928's Nueva York. The pain lingered, a constant reminder of the intense battle you had just endured.

The dimly lit room in Miguel's apartment felt like a sanctuary, a brief respite from the chaos. The pain from the injuries sustained in the fight throbbed, but it was nothing compared to the emotional turmoil that lingered.

Barely conscious, you found yourself on the living room floor, the room spinning. The portal's residual energy still crackled in the air as you struggled to sit up. Miguel's urgent voice cut through the haze, a distant echo that seemed to reach you from a world away.

"Y/N? What happened?"

You tried to speak, but the words came out as a hoarse whisper. Miguel rushed to your side, his hands gentle as he helped you sit up. The injuries from the battle were evident, but beneath the physical pain, there was a rawness, an emotional vulnerability that lingered in the air.

The rooftop argument, the Sinister Six's onslaught, and the whirlwind transition between universes all converged in this moment. The unspoken emotions that had fueled your movements in the fight were now laid bare, a complex tapestry woven with threads of frustration, longing, and a shared history.

The dimly lit room in Miguel's apartment offered a brief respite from the chaos. As Miguel tended to your injuries, the room filled with a quiet intensity. The sounds of the city outside seemed distant, as if the world had paused to give you both a moment to navigate the complexities of your connection.

Miguel worked diligently, his hands moving with a careful precision. The soft glow of the apartment's lights highlighted the concern etched into his features. The rawness of the emotional exchange on the rooftop lingered, creating a charged atmosphere that neither of you could easily dispel.

Silence hung in the air, thick with unspoken words. You watched Miguel's focused expression, his eyes reflecting a mixture of regret and understanding. It was a tender moment, a tableau of vulnerability that marked a turning point in your relationship.

"I didn't mean for it to get so out of hand," Miguel finally spoke, breaking the quiet. "I just worry about you, Y/N. You mean a lot to me."

You met his gaze, recognizing the sincerity in his eyes. "I know you worry, Miguel. But I need you to trust me. I can't have someone always trying to protect me. I need room to be my own hero."

Miguel nodded, his expression a blend of understanding and regret. "I'll try to give you that space. I just... I can't bear the thought of losing you."

His admission pulled at your heartstrings, and you reached out, placing a comforting hand on his arm. "I'm not going anywhere, Miguel. We'll figure this out."

As the night wore on, the apartment became a sanctuary where both physical and emotional wounds were tended to. The conversation shifted to lighter topics, an unspoken agreement to leave the intensity of the rooftop argument behind.

The dim light of the apartment cast a warm glow, creating an intimate setting that seemed to encourage the unfolding of unspoken emotions. The city outside continued its rhythmic hum, a backdrop to the nuanced dance of emotions within the room.

Miguel fetched a first aid kit, and you shared stories from your respective universes, finding solace in the familiarity of each other's experiences. The wounds on your shoulder and side were carefully cleaned and bandaged, the physical act of healing mirroring the emotional mending taking place.

In the quiet lull between conversations, Miguel's gaze lingered on you. There was a depth to his eyes, a silent acknowledgment of the uncharted territory your relationship had entered. It was a delicate dance, an exploration of emotions that left both of you vulnerable yet strangely connected.

The city outside gradually transitioned from the vibrant lights of night to the muted hues of predawn. The air in the apartment shifted, carrying with it the promise of a new day and the potential for a transformed understanding between you and Miguel.

As dawn approached, Miguel stood and stretched, a yawn escaping him. "You should get some rest," he suggested, a genuine concern evident in his voice.

You nodded, realizing the toll the night had taken on your body. The events, from the rooftop argument to the intense battle against the Sinister Six, had left you physically and emotionally drained. The makeshift bed Miguel arranged on the couch offered a welcome respite.

As you settled into a restless sleep, the events of the night played out in fragmented dreams. Images of swinging between buildings, the Sinister Six's menacing laughter, and Miguel's concerned gaze blended together, creating a surreal dreamscape.

In the quiet of the apartment, Miguel remained vigilant. He couldn't shake the worry that lingered, the weight of the responsibility he felt for your safety. Restlessly, he paced the room, glancing at the sleeping form on the couch with a mix of concern and something deeper, an unspoken acknowledgment of the emotions that lingered between you.

The sun began to cast its warm glow through the apartment's windows, signaling the arrival of a new day. The city outside came alive with the sounds of waking life. Miguel took a moment to watch the sunrise, the hues of orange and pink painting the sky.

As you stirred from your sleep, Miguel turned to you, a soft smile playing on his lips. "How are you feeling?" he asked, genuine concern etched on his face.

You stretched, wincing slightly from the residual soreness. "Better, considering the night I've had. Thanks for taking care of me, Miguel."

His gaze softened, and he sat beside you. "Always," he replied, a simple word laden with unspoken promises.

The morning unfolded with a quiet ease. Miguel prepared a simple breakfast, and you shared a meal that felt oddly intimate, a continuation of the uncharted emotional territory you both found yourselves navigating.

As the day progressed, the initial awkwardness between you and Miguel began to dissipate. The rooftop argument, the intense battle, and the subsequent healing had forged a deeper connection, a shared understanding that transcended the boundaries of friendship.

Miguel took you on a tour of the mirrored universe's Nueva York, pointing out landmarks and sharing anecdotes. The city, bathed in the morning light, felt like a canvas ready to be explored. The unspoken tensions of the previous night slowly gave way to a newfound camaraderie, a blend of shared experiences and a mutual respect for each other's strengths and vulnerabilities.

In the afternoon, you found yourselves on another rooftop, the cityscape sprawling below. The air was charged with a different energy, one that spoke of second chances and the resilience of connections that refused to be easily severed.

"I'm sorry for being overbearing," Miguel admitted, his gaze fixed on the horizon. "I just... I can't help but worry about you. It's a part of who I am."

You nodded, a small smile playing on your lips. "I appreciate your concern, Miguel. I know it comes from a good place. But we need to find a balance, a middle ground where I can be my own hero, and you can still be there for me."

He met your gaze, a silent understanding passing between you. The city sprawled beneath, a living, breathing entity that seemed to reflect the evolving dynamics of your relationship.

As the day turned to evening, you and Miguel found yourselves back in the apartment. The unspoken tension from the previous night had been replaced with a sense of ease. Miguel, ever the attentive host, prepared a simple dinner, and you shared a meal that felt more like a celebration of newfound understanding.

The evening unfolded with laughter and shared stories. The weight of unspoken emotions had lifted, leaving behind a sense of acceptance and a willingness to embrace the complexities of your connection. Miguel's overprotective tendencies were still there, but tempered with a newfound awareness of your need for independence.

As night fell, Miguel accompanied you to the portal that would take you back to your universe. Nueva York glittered below, a testament to the resilience of both the city and the connections forged within it.

"I'll see you around, Miguel," you said, a soft smile playing on your lips.

He nodded, his gaze lingering. "Take care, Y/N. And remember, I'm here if you need me."

With a final wave, you stepped through the portal, leaving behind E-928 and the complexities of the night that had brought you to Miguel's doorstep. The familiar sights of your own universe greeted you, and you swung through the city with a newfound sense of balance.

Back in Miguel's apartment, he stood alone, watching the portal close. The echoes of your laughter and the shared moments lingered in the air. The uncharted territory of emotions had been navigated, and the connection between you and Miguel, though complex, remained unbroken.

The city outside continued its rhythmic hum, a backdrop to the ever-unfolding stories of heroes and the bonds that tied them together. In the quiet of his apartment, Miguel O'Hara, the Spider-Man of the mirrored universe, knew that some connections were too strong to be easily untangled, and that the threads of friendship and something more would continue to weave their way through the tapestry of his life.

thank you for reading, I hope you enjoy!

#across the spiderverse #miguel o'hara #x reader #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x spiderwoman!reader #miguel o'hara x you #atsv #spiderman 2099

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nikethestatue · 2 months

Text

Breed Me

Happy Valentine's Day!

A little one shot of pure smuttiness for all of you to enjoy today. Also, blame @tswaney17 for this! She sent me a video in IG of a pink cookie being decorated with the words 'Breed Me'. She said 'Elriel'. I said 'I have to write this'. So here you are.

This is an Elriel and Nessian smut

(Generally speaking a bonus set in the world of A Match Baked In Heave, but is a standalone)

Fuck.

Fuckety fuck fuck.

She knew it. She just knew it. She knew that she’d forget. And she did. She even forgot to set the reminder not to forget.

Valentine’s Day.

Their first Valentine’s Day together.

The only excuse she managed to come up with was that they’ve been together for almost a year now. They began properly dating right around the last V Day, and therefore, it’s been some time and Nesta was allowed to forget. Or so she told herself. But she was the worst girlfriend ever. She didn’t even have a card for him!

The problem was that Nesta Archeron, barrister extraordinaire, successful, beautiful, admired, and well-put together always, did not possess a romantic bone in her body. Romance just wasn’t how she operated. Nesta liked to go to Michelin starred restaurants, she enjoyed good wines, she adored interesting trips, and she got emotional when walking down the streets of Florence overwhelmed by the sheer beauty and history of the place. But romantic, she was not. At least, not in the sense that people came to expect someone to express their romantic side–chocolates, flowers, jewellery, horrid chocolate lava cakes and even more terrifying public marriage proposals with the ring being dropped to the bottom of a champagne flute. If her boyfriend Cassian ever did that to her, she’d break up with him. Though that wasn’t exactly his style–he’d probably propose on a mountain peak, or looking out at some terrifying squall, or, if she were lucky, at night, on the streets of Florence, when no one was looking and it was the two of them.

But, enough about proposals and romantic gestures.

She’d leave that to her sister Elain. Her other sister, Feyre, had an even less romantic attitude than Nesta, if that was even possible. Feyre was hopeless in the romance department. Good thing her husband Rhysand was romantic enough for the two of them, and then some. If Rhys could gift Feyre the Moon on a string, he would.

That left Elain. The only one who was a romantic at heart, and per Feyre ‘romantic on steroids’ who adored V Day and began prepping for it in advance, the way others prepared for Christmas.

Nesta never enquired about Elain’s Valentine’s Day plans, because she was frankly, a bit scared. Though the Archeron girls were all girls, and close in age, they weren’t the types to discuss their sex lives with each other. They weren’t the types to change clothes in front of one another, and Nesta couldn’t remember when she saw any of her sisters naked. That’s just how they were. And Nesta preferred to keep it that way.

But today, she was desperate. And she was close to Elain’s house.

Unannounced pop-ins weren’t a thing that the sisters did either, but Nesta was always close to Elain and now, she hoped that Elain wouldn’t mind it. Besides, it was only 2 pm. What could Elain possibly be doing?

Just in case, though, Nesta sent a warning text “I am in the neighbourhood. And need to stop by. Are you decent?”

The last part would’ve seemed like an overkill, but it wasn’t. Because Elain, and her husband Azriel, were known to get it on frequently and at any time of day or night. Nesta had to get her eyes bleached by now, considering how many times she either overheard them or walked in on them. Azriel was a damn exhibitionist, who loved semi-public sex, and what’s more, the man’s had some peculiar interests, which made being in their company a veritable minefield of strange sexual encounters. Elain…well, she was in love. She was love-drunk, dick-drunk, and sex-drunk most of the time.

Nesta hurried down the street, before rushing up the stairs, taking two steps at a time. True to Elain’s character, the white columns beneath the awning were decorated with pink, white and red roses. Love was in the air.

Nesta banged on the door and heard ‘it’s open!’

She entered the foyer, toed off her boots and almost ran to the open concept first floor kitchen and sitting room.

“Are you okay? What’s wrong?” her sister asked, worry etched on her pretty face.

Elain was wearing a pink dress with red flowers and a wide pink headband, which struggled to contain waves of her thick curls. The dress accentuated her growing stomach, which was just beginning to round and pop at 4.5 months. Of course, Elain made the prettiest pregnant woman in the world. Shiny hair, sparkling eyes, clear skin, a wide smile, gorgeous boobs, no weight gain other than in her stomach, and the most perfect pregnancy–no violent sickness, explosive vomiting, sickening cravings or swollen ankles for the middle Archeron sister.

“I am brilliant!” Nesta put on a fake smile. “Just need a few ideas,”

Elain eyed her with a disapproving look and then said,

“You forgot, didn’t you?”

“Ummm, forgot what?” Neta decided to play stupid.

“Don’t play stupid,” her sister snapped. “You forgot about Valentine’s Day and now Cassian doesn’t have a gift, does he?”

Nesta plopped on the stool by the marble bar and announced with pretend excitement,

“No. But that’s where you come in!”

“Oh, is that so?” rolled her eyes and then picked up a pastry bag, and curled over the counter. “Am I expected to get your boyfriend a Valentine’s Day gift?”

“No, no, no,” Nesta assured her breezily. “Nothing like that. Just…ideas. Give me some ideas. I will execute!”

Elain thought for a second, absorbed in whatever she was doing with that pastry bag, and then explained,

“Men don't care about presents. Not for this type of holiday,”

“They don’t?”

“No! Cass doesn’t want a box of chocolates!” she laughed. “He’d just have to work it out longer at the gym.”

“So then…?” Nesta’s voice trailed as her brows knitted in confusion.

“You are hopeless!” Elain sighed. “Romance. Seduction. That’s what he wants. Seduce him…”

“O-kay…As in?”

“I have to teach you how to seduce a man?” Elain demanded.

“I don’t need to seduce him. He is already seduced!”

“Expand your repertoire,” Elain all but ignored Nesta’s reasoning. “Do something you don't normally do,”

“What, whips and chains?”

“Why must you go that far? Unless you want to be chained and whipped?”

“No thanks.”

Nesta knew for a fact that that was more of an Elain and Azriel thing.

“Then what?” she asked again.

“What about sending him a sexy video?” Elain proposed.

“I am not sending nudes,” Nesta stated firmly. “If that ever gets out,”

“You think he is going to share your nudes?”

“Phones get hacked. Next idea?”

Elain sighed and then leaned back against the fridge, and crossed her arms on her chest.

“Have you tried introducing some whipped cream? Strawberries?”

“I don’t like mixing sex with food,” Nesta told her.

“Oh god. Well, what do you like?”

“My choices are nudes or rolling around in greasy sheets?” Nesta demanded crossly.

“Play a game,”

“What kind of game?”

“Like a sex game. You tell him one of your desires, and he tells you one of his, and you both do it,” Elain proposed.

Nesta chewed on her lips, thinking about it. It wasn’t a terrible idea.

“What else?”

“Try having sex in an unusual place,” Elain suggested. “Not in bed or a shower. But somewhere you don’t usually do it in,”

“Hmmm. Okay.”

This was giving Nesta ideas.

“We have a book,” Elain began but Nesta shook her head,

“No. Please no. I don’t want real-life examples from your sex escapades!!!”

“All I wanted to say,” Elain pouted, “was that if you have a sexy book or a magazine, you can open it to a random page and act out whatever is there…”

“Oh. Hmmm. That’s not bad. You’ve done that?”

“You just said no real-life examples!” Elain reminded her dryly.

“Yeah, true.”

Giving her a meaningful look of pure judgement, Elain added, “wouldn’t hurt if you dressed in something other than your smart clothes and your suits.”

“Lingerie?”

“It’s been known to help.”

In the next moment, Nesta exclaimed, “Oh my god, what is that!?!? Elain?!”

Elain glanced at the MASSIVE bouquet of pale pastel flowers that Azriel had given her earlier today. It wasn’t unusual that Azriel would give her flowers, so she didn’t quite understand Nesta’s reaction.

But Nesta was staring, wild-eyed, at what Elain was doing, and she saw a whole array of sugar biscuits, which were already shiny with icing, and upon which Elain was writing.

Writing such as:

Lick Me

I Lick You

Butt Play

Toys

Anal

Reverse Cowgirl

Pearl Necklace

Blindfold

Breed Me

Outside

Car BJ

And many others, which Nesta couldn’t even make out.

“What the hell is this?!” she cried out.

Elain began to scramble pathetically, trying to turn the biscuits over, but it was too late. Nesta’s seen enough.

“Elain! What the heck are you two up to?”

“Okay, whatever,” Elain was redder than the icing on the bakes. “It’s a game, okay? We are going to play a game too!”

“What kind of game is this?!”

“I think it’s obvious,” Elain hissed.

“Not really…”

“My god,” she rolled her eyes and threw her head back dramatically. “It’s a very simple game, Nesta. There is a platter of biscuits–you select one or two, and read what it says. Then you do it.”

Nesta’s eyes bugged out,

“So you are going to do anal?!?! Or a car BJ!?”

“I don’t know!!!!!!!!!!!” Elain screeched, all flustered and red. “Maybe! Maybe we’ll do anal,”

“You are pregnant,”

“You can have anal when you are pregnant. Also, I am not discussing this with you anymore. I’ve given you ideas. That’s it!” she stomped her foot.

Before the conversation could escalate even further and end up in a potential screaming match, the front door opened and Azriel’s deep, highly masculine and unabashedly sexual voice announced,

“Two jacket potatoes, coming up. Baby, I hope you are naked, because I am fucking gearing up to eat your pussy like a bulldog eats cereal.

“Also, they made me run three sprints today–though I told him that I am an old man with a wonky knee–but per your request, I am still sweaty. So have your way with me, lick it up.”

Nesta made a gagging noise deep inside her chest.

“We are not alone!” Elain screamed frantically.

“Who are we with? The dogs don’t count.”

Elain and Azriel had four dogs. The oldest, who was Elain’s originally, and then he had three sons–Benny, Churchy and John Boy–whom Elain and Azriel also kept. So, the dad and the three sons ran around together, and caused mischief and were four of the cutest dog potatoes ever.

When Azriel stepped inside, holding–by the looks of it–Churchy and Benny in each arm, both of them were dressed in red sweaters, it dawned on Nesta what he meant by ‘jacket potatoes’. Because it was kind of unbelievable that Elain and Azriel would dine on jacket potatoes for Valentine’s Day. Nevermind that Azriel was planning on dining on something else entirely.

“Oh, Nesta,” he muttered, without an ounce of excitement.

“Don’t worry, I am just leaving,” she got up from her seat, scowling. “I don’t need to be hearing about all your perversions,”

“Perversions?” Azriel smirked. “Judgey much?”

Elain was still squirming from embarrassment, but Azriel didn’t seem to care that his sister-in-law became privy to some seriously serious sex talk.

“The boys are knackered,” he announced, dumping the two pugs into their beds. They didn’t even wake up. Both were outfitted with heart-shaped headbands, and red jumpers with white hearts.

“Nesta, something you need?” he asked, “or,”

“Definitely not! The last thing I need to see is my sister licking your sweat or whatever the fuck you implied she was going to do to you.”

He laughed, while Elain buried her face in her hands.

Azriel was abnormally handsome–in a way that was almost unnatural, and his handsomeness allowed him to get away with a lot of nonsense.

“Let me guess, you forgot it was V Day and didn’t get my brother anything,” he suggested, stepping behind Elain and wrapping his arms around her.

“Ha! Not even close!” Nesta lied.

“All right then.” Azriel clearly didn’t believe her. “Then off you go, ice princess. I need to fuck my wife.”

“Az!” Elain moaned helplessly, while Azriel turned her around and cupped her face in his hands.

“What?” he smiled, while his tongue traced a line against her lips. “Let’s make Nessie so uncomfortable, she’ll run out screaming!”

“Already there,” Nesta hissed.

With Elain’s back to her and Azriel occupied with the kiss, Nesta quickly swiped a bunch of biscuits from the counter and dropped them in her bag. She can play the game too!

“Bye, you degenerates!” she cried out, and ran out, hearing Elain’s soft ‘byeeee’ on the way out.

Nesta and Cassian

“Happy Valentine’s Day, handsome,” Nesta cooed. “Do you want to play a game?”

“Any game you want, sweetheart,” Cassian offered, his voice thick and husky, “I’ll even lose, if you’d like me to,” he promised. His normally bright hazel eyes were dark and satiny, glistening with want and lascivious desire, as they skimmed over Nesta’s stunning lushness, presented to him in all its glory.

She greeted him in their kitchen, when he stomped inside like a big bear, dripping with February rain. He sure didn’t expect to find her there–wrapped up like the perfect candy box of Valentine’s chocolates for him to unwrap. Truthfully, he thought that she’d forgotten about it today–this holiday wasn’t her jam. But, oh how wrong he was.

Nesta was splayed on the white quartz countertop, dressed in nothing but blood-red silky lingerie, which left absolutely nothing to the imagination. The panties were little more than a piece of tissue paper, covering literally nothing, and the bra, which was tasked with containing Nesta’s lavish cleavage, was hardly anything more.

The bra was held together by an innocent looking rose, which nestled at the juncture of her soft, plush tits. While the same rose was attached to the top of the panties, just below her belly button.

“Well, that won’t be necessary,” Nesta assured him breezily, slowly, but intentionally crossing one long leg over the other. To complete the festive look, she wore gravity-defying red Louboutin heels. “I think we can both be winners in this game.”

She slowly walked her manicured fingers down the countertop, to an assortment of heart-shaped biscuits which were laid out in a…heart shape.

Cassian was a bit shocked. Not just from watching the gorgeous body and the spectacular set that she was wearing, but also from all this wild Valentine-ism that she went out of her way to do. He wasn’t expecting it. This was more of an Elain thing to do.

But he’d lost his ability to speak anyway, so it was a moot point. He was trying to wrap his mind around everything that he was seeing. There were only harsh, primal sounds coming from his gut. Very caveman-like.

“Pick a biscuit,” Nesta offered, tapping her finger next to each one.

Cassian shucked off his sodden jacket and his brogues, tossing his suit coat on the floor, uncaring. Slowly, like a lion stalking a lioness in the wild, he approached Nesta, trying to appear unaffected.

“What do we have here?” he finally managed to ask, licking his lower lip slowly. Nesta tracked the movement and shifted her body, so that her breasts almost spilled out of the flimsy bra cups, her nipples straining against the transparent lace.

“A gift for you,” she offered, batting her lashes at him.

“And what will it say?” he pondered, slowly untying the topknot of his long, black hair.

“I don’t know,” she admitted innocently. “But whatever you pick, you get to do to me…How does that sound?”

“Sounds like I am up to the challenge,” he promised, watching her bite her lower lip.

His cock stirred within his trousers, while he watched her full lips glisten with a smear of bright red gloss. What a trail it would leave on his cock. The thought alone made him harder.

Absently, he picked up one of the biscuits and then turned it, to see the message.

“Hmmm,” he hummed, cocking his brow.

Nesta craned her neck to sneak a peek, but he tsked and shook his head.

“No, no, Miss Archeron, a deal is a deal. Whatever it says, I will do.”

“But what does it say?”

“Something very interesting, and something I am very in the mood to do,” he told her and then slipped the biscuit in his back pocket.

She pouted, but it didn’t last long, because Cassian leaned over her and kissed her. Grasping her slim wrist in his huge hand, he brought it firmly to the swell of his cock.

“Must have been an interesting message,” she murmured into his mouth, but he wrapped his lips over her soft, pouty mouth and pried the sticky red lips apart with his tongue. Her thin fingers groped his dick firmly, just like he liked it, and a satisfied moan slipped from his lips, landing on Nesta’s tongue. She still sprawled on the counter, but despite the awkward position, Cassian put his big, warm hands on her thighs, travelling slowly over her soft skin toward the gossamer coverage of her panties, until his thumbs traced the warm wet slit beneath the material.

Nesta moaned into his cheek, biting the skin on his jaw, as she squeezed his shaft harder, working it over with her expert hand. She smelled incredible, her expensive Chanel perfume tickling his nose, as he inhaled deeply, while thrusting his palms under her ass cheeks and palming her hard. He caressed her tongue with his, opening her further up to his kiss, kneading the soft bare skin of her behind. She breathed hotly into his mouth, letting go of his cock and winding her arms around his neck. The loss of her hand on his erection was tragic, but that also allowed Cassian to pull her to him, making her grand tits press into his chest and the warmth of her pussy into his dick. She rubbed against him impatiently, murmuring ‘sorry for ruining your trousers’ to which he replied, ‘feel free to ruin all of me, sweetheart’.

She nodded, her long leg wrapping around his calves and pulling him even closer. The lips of her pussy stretched around the base of his erection, and she ground on him firmly and confidently.

“What’s my present for V day?” she teased, stroking his long hair and the back of his neck.

“Also a fun game,” he said, dragging his tongue over her mouth, kissing her lazily and with obscene sort of tenderness, indulging in her scent and her taste.

“What is it?” she asked.

“A version of whack-a-mole.”

“Are you the mole?” she queried.

“I am the whacker and the mole,” Cassian told her confidently.

Azriel and Elain

“Where was I?” Azriel murmured, watching Elain’s arched body in front of him. “Oh yes,” he remembered, “spreading your legs…”

He was behind her, his scarred palm rough on her hip, as he parted her thighs further. She was panting loudly, and he smiled, caressing her hair lovingly, “my little pillow-biter”.

“Mmm,” was all Elain managed, while the head of his hot, heavy, hefty cock prodded at her entrance, but he didn’t push inside. Instead, his hand slipped under her and stroked her round belly, while he whispered, “he good?”

She nodded yes. “He is good.”

“Ask for my cock, wife,” he then ordered.

She wiggled her round ass against his groin, the underside of his hard cock landing between her butt cheeks, but didn’t do as he asked.

He tsked and then slapped the heavy pole over her folds, making her gasp and clutch the sheets harder in her hands.

“Be a good girl, and ask,” he encouraged her, but she shook her head, stifling another moan when he smacked his cock over her pussy.

“Oh god,” was all she managed, because while it hurt, it also felt so good.

“I am waiting,” he sang, gripping her breasts in his hands and painfully twisting her nipples.

“Mmm–nooo,” she argued like a brat, shaking her head stubbornly.

Azriel sighed and contemplated for a moment, as he casually fondled her tits, half-seated on her hips.

“Last chance, beautiful. Ask for my dick,” he told her.

She shook her head and remained silent.

The thrill of punishment made her even hornier, as she didn’t know what he was going to do.

Flipping her over on her back, he kneeled on one knee over her and cupped his balls in his hand, lazily stroking his shaft. When she made to touch it, he said, “nope. You didn't ask for my cock like a good wife should. Now you are not getting it until I am ready to give it to you,”

He traced his lips with his thumb, while still rubbing his shaft, smearing precum over it, before sliding down and straddling her chest. Gathering her heavy breasts in his hands, he then spit on his dick and firmly pushed her breasts together. “Get ready, sweetness,” he warned, before thrusting his thick cock inside her cleavage. “Now, you are going to take my cock like my good girl, swallow nice and deep, while I fuck your pretty titites,” he instructed, pumping slowly between her breasts. “Tongue out,” he ordered, and Elain stuck her tongue out for him. The smooth head of his cock immediately landed on it, and she burrowed the tip into the sexy little slit, licking on it, tasting him. “That’s a good girl,” he approved, smiling down at her, as he quickly fluffed a pillow behind her head, so that the angle was just right. He squeezed her breasts even harder, and she gasped, especially when he tweaked her nipples, but he didn’t stop thrusting steadily, his movements precise and firm, so that the head of his cock remained inside her mouth for her to lick and suck on.

“Eye contact at all times, my love,” he reminded her, smiling at her, before pushing deeper in her mouth. Elain watched him obediently, her mouth full of him, her lips stretched around the thickness of the shaft, as she panted loudly around him. He jiggled her tits playfully, keeping them wrapped around his base and his balls. “Now you’ll have my cock in your mouth for as long as I want, naughty girl,” he pinched her nipples, “start sucking, baby.”

Elain submitted, immobilised beneath his weight, sucking scrupulously and hard, as she watched him like he wanted.

She wanted to be here too, in this place, in his position. She enjoyed being dominated, and Azriel dominated her well. She didn’t crave pain, though when he spanked her, or choked her, or slapped her with his dick, she loved it, but she needed to submit to his desires. She loved taking his cock any way he told her to, loved to serve him in bed, loved to give up control.

So she sucked sloppily, while he pumped her tits and worked his heavy balls up and down her chest.

“Is that good, pretty girl?” he asked.

She nodded, gasping for breath when he pushed his cock deeper. He didn’t stop, and pressed further, whispering “choke on it, beautiful. Come on!”

She sputtered and choked, her eyes pleading with him silently, as tears ran down her cheeks, but he shook his head.

“No. Swallow. And choke,” he ordered. “Open up. Wider,” and as she did, he plunged further, into her already trained throat.

After they got married, for three months all she did was suck his cock multiple times a day, learning how to train her gag reflex, learning how to truly suck dick, falling in love with it.

He released her tits from his grip, and she noticed the blossoming of bruises on her skin, while he propped himself on his arms, before starting to fuck her mouth greedily and obscenely.

Elain relaxed under the onslaught of his expertly delivered thrusting in her mouth and while he still choked her, she was also enjoying herself. She loved her husband more than it was rational or describable. Azriel fulfilled every dream, every hope, every desire, every need that she had.

Elian hummed against the hard, hot pole in her mouth, which made Azriel feel drunk, particularly when the sound reverberated in her throat, tickling the head of his shaft. He lovingly brushed his thumb over her cheek, watching her bob up and down and meeting every push of his shaft. The noises that she was making–sloppy, wet, explicit–were an erotic symphony in his ear. If he could listen to her gag on his dick for the rest of his life, he probably would.

“You are so good to me,” he whispered. “My Ellie. But, I promised you a gift.”

He eased his pounding of her mouth and resumed his spot on her chest, sliding his shaft back between her breasts. Her breathing eased and she put her hands on his firm, muscle-corded thighs, stroking him slowly, running her fingertips through the nest of pubes around his cock.

His balls tightened and this member twitched next to her sternum, while she squeezed his rock-hard ass cheeks in her hands, digging her nails into his skin. Just like her, he liked a bit of pain as well.

He pulled out of her mouth just in time for the warm jets of cum to land on her lips, her neck and her chest.

“Mmmm, more,” she finally moaned, licking the familiar salty outpouring from her lips, while he kept coming, until it was dripping down her chest. He scooped some with his fingers and let her lick them off the sperm.

“Beautiful girl,” he purred lovingly. “With a beautiful pearl necklace.”

She laughed and touched her neck. There, beneath the globs of cum, was her new pearl necklace, her Valentine’s gift and the present for her pregnancy.

Azriel collapsed on the bed next to her and then handed her a glass of water. She chugged it down gratefully and he took the biscuit from the nightstand. On it, in pretty script it was written ‘Pearl Necklace’.

Elain got up, amidst his protests and skipped to the bathroom, where she washed off her V Day gift and brushed her teeth.

Then, she quickly returned to bed and collapsed into the embrace of her husband.

“I love you, you know,” he said seriously, spooning her from behind.

“I do know that,” she smiled and kissed his hand. “And I love you. More than you’ll ever know.”

He kissed her shoulder gently and then arranged her against himself, before spreading her pussy with his fingers and nudging his already-hard dick inside. He thrust in slowly, filling her gradually and completely. She sighed contentedly.

“Are you hungry?” he worried.

She shook her head and made herself comfortable on his bicep.

“But I am happy.”

“I am happy if you are happy,” he said to her, and kissed her cheek.

Elain yawned.

Incredibly, of all the biscuits that she would have selected, she randomly chose ‘cock warming’--her very favourite thing to fall asleep with. It’s almost like she…cheated.

Nesta and Cassian

Nesta rolled her hips, seated on Cassian’s knees. Her own knees were tucked against his thighs, pressing tightly into him, holding him immobile.

“You look delicious, Nes,” he ground, his voice choked, as he ran his thick fingers through her long silky hair, though now it was tangled against her back.

Her pussy was dripping his shaft, each fold splayed prettily to accommodate his considerable girth and he couldn't get enough of the sight. Especially with the red of her panties pulled aside haphazardly, reminding Cassian of how impatient she was with him.

A lock of hair bounced over her round breasts, still covered by the bra cup, but it didn’t stop him from putting his mouth over her puckering nipple and biting.

“Fuck me, Cassian,” she grunted through gritted teeth, holding onto the back of his neck. She ground down on him, taking him inside her gorgeous body wholly, tempting tits swaying freely next to his face. He bit her nipple again, sucking on it through the material, and her head fell forward, pressing into his forehead.

The wet, hot friction between them was almost unbearable, but Cassian held her firmly by the hips, fucking up into her and making her take all of him again and again. It was pure, glorious heaven.

“Gimmie a kiss, sweetheart,” he told her, as he fucked her with rough, deep strokes. This was his favourite Nesta–weakened and compliant, her lips pink and glossy, when he took her mouth in a messy, wet kiss. She keened into him, allowing him full control of her body, sucking on his tongue like he wanted her to–soft and sighing with pleasure. He rocked her steadily, his thrusts deep and punishing, as he caressed her arched back and the peachy cut of her ass. She took him breathlessly, her mouth forming an almost shocked ‘O’ every time he hit that perfect spot inside of her, angling her body just so and making her cry out loudly again and again.

“Cassian. Cassian. Cassian.”

Her head lolled to the side and she closed her eyes, her grip on his neck and shoulders easing, and he held her closer, allowing her to relax and know that he had her.

“Good fucking girl,” he murmured into her hair, pressing his thumbs into the divots above her ass. “Letting me fuck and breed this perfect pussy.”

At that, Nesta exploded. The squelching sounds of her dick pushing inside her became a staccato of explicit, sultry melody.

“GOD. Cassian. I love you,” she squealed, as he huffed and grunted with adoration at her words.

The walls of her pussy squeezed him tightly, holding him in an almost painful vise-like grip, as she climaxed all over him, melting into a loud, needy scream. She fell into his chest, pumped continuously and nestled her face into the crook of his neck, sucking on it with desperation.

Only then did Cassian let go of his iron self control and came inside of her, letting her milk every drop of his seed.

“Beautiful, Nes,” he babbled in her ear. “Take it all. Finally.”

This was perfection.

The way she gripped him and how her pussy pulsed all around his dick was incredible.

Nesta was severely allergic to any hormonal contraceptives, and non-hormonal IUD didn’t work for her, causing constant bleeding and extreme discomfort. So they practised the ‘natural method’ and he never came inside of her. Until tonight. Finally. It was amaz-

“Cassian!!!” she cried out. “What the hell?!? What did you do?!”

She pushed against his chest and stared at him with a horrified expression.

“What did I do?” he exclaimed, alarmed.

He was in fact, still orgasming inside of her.

“What?!” he repeated.

“You came!” she accused him pointlessly.

“Well, yes,” his brow furrowed.

“Inside!” she stated the obvious, like he wasn’t aware.

“Well, yeah. You wanted me to!” he reminded her, as he kissed her lips.

“What? When did I want you to?”

“Nesta,” he sighed. “I know you are blissed out, baby, but you asked me to,”

“Asked you what?!”

“To come inside of you. Calm down, sweetheart.”

“What are you talking about?” she demanded.

“Stop freaking out. It’s going to be okay.”

“When did I ask you?!” she repeated again.

“The cookie.”

“What cookie?!?!” she screamed.

“The biscuit. That you told me to choose.”

“What about it??!!!” she wiped her face.

“It said Breed Me.”

She stared at him helplessly, mouth open.

Cassian kissed her again and pumped into her deeper, making everything seem inevitable.

“So I bred you,” he shrugged, looking proud of himself.

Fucking Elain and her fucking biscuits.

#elriel #nessian #azriel and elain #elain x azriel #nesta and cassian #cassian and nesta #elain archeron #azriel #nesta archeron #my fanfiction #nessian fanfiction #elriel fanfic #my writing

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