#Her gaze is full of hatred | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

benjinotes · 3 months

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𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 - 𝐛𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐢𝐜𝐨𝐭 𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐰𝐨𝐨𝐝

request: hi, can you do one shot of jealous, Benji? One of the Black's allies tries to flirt with her, maybe

pairings: benjicot blackwood x fem (bracken) reader

warnings: jealousy, little spicy, a little angst w//happy ending, mentions of violence and blood.

ask me for permission before translating

Benjicot Blackwood should hate you, despise you even.

Your homes fueled an animosity that went back generations, rooted in ancient disputes and rivalries, and the hatred he harbored for you was so intense and overwhelming that it infiltrated every thought, every action, and every cell in his body.

That burning resentment consumed his soul in such a way that he almost couldn't remember anything else when he was with you, as if his very existence had been eclipsed by your presence.

But despite this deep hatred, there was something inexplicable and profound that pulled him towards you-an irresistible force that he could not understand.

Each small encounter, no matter how full of hostility and provocation, revealed a complexity of emotions that went beyond the pure aversion felt by any of your ancestors toward each other.

And the fine line between love and hate began to blur; Benjicot found himself increasingly lost in this tangle of conflicting and bewildering feelings, now completely unable to ignore the disturbing fascination that you held over him.

Watching from afar as you spoke to Cregan Stark, he fixed his burning gaze in your direction. The expression on his face was a mixture of anger and a little sadness, which only increased as you approached Cregan or smiled in his direction. He was hating it; he wanted so badly to stop that interaction, and his veins burned for him to do so.

However, Benjicot was aware that he could not act hastily, especially in the presence of practically the entire court and Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen's loyal allies who occupied that room. Furthermore, the presence of your brother, positioned behind you, did not help at all; he watched him with an arched eyebrow and a wry smile, an expression that Benji felt an almost irresistible impulse to confront with a punch.

Yet, he contained himself, being aware of the consequences that his actions could have in that place, and turned his angry gaze from your direction to one of the nobles who were next to him while trying to hide the wave of jealousy that was boiling inside him. The feeling of you being so close to another man who wasn't his made him nervous and uncomfortable, and he could already start to feel the collar of your tunic tightening his neck.

But he wanted to beat Cregan Stark; damn it, he wanted to rub Lord Stark's face in the ground just for the simple fact that the man thought he was worthy enough to even talk to you.

No one was worthy enough of you, not even himself.

"Are you alright?" Benji heard his aunt's voice filled with concern, but he just nodded, ignoring the shards of glass embedded in his hands from his tight grip on the wine glass.

She simply nodded, he could notice her eyes showing distrust, as she turned her attention to the lords of House Royce in a conversation that Benji honestly made no attempt to hear.

He returned to observing you with a forced seriousness, trying to ignore the pain from the cuts on his hands caused by the broken glass.

However, the pain he felt physically was quickly replaced by another overwhelming feeling of jealousy and sadness as he realized that now you were not only talking like before with Lord Stark but also smiling in the other man's direction, with such a soft and gentle smile, and that made his heart stop for a moment.

That wasn't fair. You had ignored him for days and now here you were smiling at another man in a way you had never smiled at him, and in such a genuine and sweet way that he didn't know whether to knock Lord Stark for being the person you were heading, or thanked him for giving him the chance to see you smile like that.

But one thing was certain: Benji couldn't bear this any longer, and when he saw you get up from the table and walk through the wooden door, he stood up from the table abruptly and followed you without hesitation, ignoring the questioning look from his aunt and the curious looks of the other lords at the table. His heart pounded with every step closer to you.

He knew it was a rash attitude, but he couldn't control it, not when he was in battles or when it came to you.

Benjicot's footsteps echoed audibly as he approached you, and with that, you turned back, surprised to find Benji's brown eyes looking at you with something so different from the other times.

His eyes, unlike other times, seemed to carry a mixture of hurt and confusion as they looked towards yours, which showed a hint of regret.

However, you just straightened your back, ignoring the feeling that was now running through your veins, and looked at him with superiority—a superiority that would have made him laugh if it weren't for these circumstances. "What do you want, Blackwood?" You asked sourly, but despite that, he seemed to lean towards the sound of the voice he hadn't heard lately.

You were expecting a teasing response the moment Benji seemed to stretch your back; however, nothing prepared you for what he was about to say. "Why are you ignoring me?" He asked softly, but you could hear a sour tone in the middle of it. After all, Benjicot never managed to be sweet without a little bitterness.

"What?"

He moved closer to you, and every step Benjicot took towards you was another step you took back, but he didn't stop; he didn't stop until you were cradled between his arms and the cold marble of the halls of that palace.

"I asked." He began, his voice soft and rough at the same time as he tilted his face closer to yours. "Why are you ignoring me?" He repeated it again, and this time he seemed a little angry as he looked at you, who remained silent as you looked into his eyes.

‘Why are you ignoring me?’

You didn't know; maybe it was because you were fed up with his lame jokes; maybe it was because of how rich your houses were; or maybe it was the simple fact that you hated him so much that you could barely breathe properly when you looked at his direction. In either way, you didn't know.

"Hmm?" He asked in a low voice, tilting his head even more in your direction and making your breaths mix in the short space that separated you. He was close—too close.

And you wanted him, even more closer.

"You're not going to ans — ?" Benjicot started, but before he could finish the sentence, you smashed his lips, covering them with your own, and making him gasp in surprise but quickly returning the kiss with the same intensity and strength.

When you pulled him firmly by the neck, bringing him closer, you felt his smile against your mouth, accompanied by a squeeze on your waist that made you gasp in surprise, and Benji, taking advantage of your reaction, inserted his tongue into your mouth, intensifying the kiss even more.

You knew you shouldn't be doing this; it was wrong; it was completely wrong; your homes were enemies and your families hated each other, but the kisses that Benji now left on your neck made you forget about that and focus on the good part of the hate, in the intense and pleasurable part of the hate you both had for each other.

"I don't want you to go near Lord Stark again, ok?" He murmured while placing small kisses on the part of your bust that was exposed; the blood he had on his hands now marked your clothed waist, and you breathed dizzily, too disconcerted to be able to form a concrete word.

That was good, so good.

"Excellent." Benji murmured, lifting his head again, giving a smile when he noticed your red cheeks and swollen lips, and leaving one last kiss on your lips.

He might not make you smile like that, but this sure felt a lot better.

— my first one-shot, honestly i still don’t know how to feel about this, but i hope you enjoy!!

— english is not my first language, so please be respectful.

— benjicot blackwood fic.

tag: @h-0-error

#lua 🏹💭#benjicot blackwood #benjicot blackwood x reader #house of the dragon #bloody ben #hotd x reader #house of the dragon fanfic #benji blackwood #anon ask #hotd imagine

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bookshelf-dust · 1 month

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something’s gotta give

gif by @kwistowee

eddie munson x fem!reader

word count: 5,988

warnings: swearing, crude jokes, sexual innuendos, general hatred for either party, one small mention of a judgmental christian lady, depictions of an accident involving a box cutter, talk of blood and the ensuing wound, banter, both reader and eddie trying to get under each others skin, enemies to lovers trope

synopsis: eddie munson is a prick. a prick who also happens to be your coworker. you hate his guts. he hates yours. and who would think there’d be reason for anything else?

a/n: well, hello!! i’ve been working on this idea for a little bit, and it was definitely a challenge because i’ve never taken on something with this dynamic before. it was so tricky to come up with all these snarky remarks, to build up a world where it made sense. speaking of, this is without a doubt a 90s!au. i am proud of myself for trying something new and i think it turned out pretty good. shoutout to @clovermunson for listening to me vent about my struggles and helping me mold eddie into the smartass he is. also thank you to @steph-speaks for making me a cutie rb banner!! peep it at the end of the fic. happy reading!!! <333

————

“Here’s your change and…there’s your receipt.”

You bump the cash register drawer with your hip, slamming the thick metal shut. You give a big, warm smile to the woman in front of you. She has a face full of freckles and the most beautiful silver hair that makes her blue eyes look insanely vibrant.

She grins back at you, setting her palm on the countertop, her nails painted a pale, shimmery shade of pink. “Thank you, sweet pea. And thank you for helping me find some goodies!” She shakes her paper bag.

You hand her a complimentary bookmark with the store name on it. “You’re so welcome. You’ll have to stop by and let me know what you think about that one!”

“Of course! You have a good day, now.”

“You too!” You give her a small wave as she walks out the door, and move to put away the store’s copy of her receipt. Your smile drops immediately when you feel a looming presence behind you. The paper in your hand gets crushed when you shove it under the counter.

“Damn, you flick the bean this morning?” Eddie’s voice drips with malice. You know he’s wearing that sinister ass smirk before you even turn to face him.

“Why? Need some advice on how to find it, Munson?” You grab a stack of books off the counter and slide out of the way so he can clock in.

The sound of his boots on the carpeted floors tell you he’s following you. He always is.

“I think it’s a valid question, princess. You’re in such a good mood it makes a guy wonder…”

You stop in the mystery section, looking for authors with the last name beginning with ‘F,’ and begin to restock. “Well, Eddie, if I got off and that’s why I’m so bubbly today, it’s pretty clear to me that somebody gave you blue balls last night.”

He laughs, snatching a book out of your hand to put it on the top shelf when he sees you rise up on your tippy toes. It pisses you off. “Harsh, princess.”

You turn around at the sound of the doorbell, but he stops you with an arm outstretched to rest on the wall.

You grab his hand and shove it out of your way. “I guess you should’ve put that hand to good use then and given yourself a quick, and probably little, job before you came to your real one.”

When you escape his vicinity, you look around for the customer you heard come in. There’s a young boy wandering through the back section where you sell records, tapes, CD’s, whatever the fuck. It’s Eddie’s section, and therefore not your problem.

You hold eye contact with the man in question, giving him your bitchiest look possible. “You have a customer, Munson. And…” you glance at your watch, “I’m going on lunch.”

Eddie watches as you cross your arms and march off to the break room. His gaze falls to your ass. You’re wearing this long skirt, one that falls just above your ankles so your boots poke out. The fabric is loose and flowy, but manages to cling to your skin and he can see every curve when you walk. Every bounce of soft flesh—

“Hey, excuse me?” The voice of a boy, no more than fourteen, snaps Eddie out of his dick-controlled reverie.

He spins around to face the kid, putting on his customer service face. “What can I do for you, little dude?”

In the break room, you stand in front of the microwave, shifting back and forth on your feet while you wait for your leftover pasta to warm up. It’s rare now for your shifts to line up with Robin’s. She is a good coworker, and you’d built up this system, this rhythm, that Eddie has never even tried to build with you.

God, you miss her. And you fucking hate Eddie Munson.

You pull out a chair and sink down into it, too pissed to care that you’re essentially manspreading and certainly eating like a slob.

What angers you the most is that you tried to be friendly with Eddie when he was hired. You have seniority over him, and you were happy to help him figure out how things worked. But he didn’t give a fuck. To you, it seemed like he was too good for your help.

But the first time you saw him ask Robin for help, you realized that he just…didn’t like you. And you don’t know why. You have always been nice to your coworkers. You have no reason not to be. Except when you get to a point that you’re forced to match their energy.

You down the rest of your drink. You need to go out and get some fresh air, despite the fact that it’s fucking scorching outside.

Up front, Eddie gives the young boy his receipt and a little bag full of cassette tapes, buttons, and a patch that he helped him pick out. Another child saved from the masses of pop music, he thinks.

He taps his ringed fingers against the counter, lowering himself so that his elbows rest against the cool vinyl. Out of the corner of his eye, Eddie catches a sticky note stuck to the edge of the computer monitor.

The store’s goal total for today is written there, penciled messily in your handwriting. Eddie rolls his eyes. Why do you always have to be on top of everything like that? You’re so fucking uptight all the time Eddie’s surprised you don’t waddle because of the stick you permanently have up your ass.

Ever since the day he got hired a few months ago, Eddie has despised you. He remembers taking a small tour of the shop and being introduced to you where you were organizing a new shipment of magazines.

You stood, shyly fidgeting with the pin on your fitted denim vest. You were bubbly, with these sweet little doe eyes and an expression on your face like you were hoping to make a new friend. He remembers your palm feeling unsettlingly cold when he shook your hand, and now it all makes sense to him.

What with the way you can change moods with the drop of a pin, how you manage to bring a storm cloud with you every time you walk in his direction but have everyone else wrapped around your finger.

A cold-blooded bitch like you must surely feed on the souls of little children every morning.

He hates how organized you are, how prepared. How you behave all patiently when you’re with a customer who’s been a prick, even though he knows it’s all an act because you’ll give him a death glare at any given chance.

But most of all? He hates how fucking gorgeous you are. You’d think all that hatred would make you look like an old hag, but no. Instead you walk around in your skirts that show off that perfect ass and every once in a while you wear a shirt that shows the tiniest sliver of your stomach, or in some cases, your back, if you bend over. He hates when you wear those platform boots with the heels that allow you to level with him.

And the fact that you’re walking toward him right now.

Eddie watches as you strip off the cropped button-up you’d been wearing, exposing your bare arms.

There’s a tattoo running up the length of your bicep that he’s never seen before. His gaze lingers on it for long enough that you catch it and raise a brow.

“You cry when you got that, princess?” He points to the dark ink on your skin.

You slide behind him and sit on the stool in front of the computer.

“No, Eddie. I fell asleep. If you want to bond about how you wailed during each of your tattoo sessions, you’ll have to talk to Brian.”

He scoffs. “Guess you can handle a little prick then, huh?”

“I work with you everyday, don’t I?” You smile, but keep your eyes on the computer screen. There’s supposed to be a new shipment of books coming today, and your boss already asked you to set up the display when it gets here. That reminds you, and you speak before Eddie can give you a smartass remark. “Eddie, there’s a box of new vinyls in the back you’re supposed to sort and put out.”

“Yeah? I’ll get right on that, mom.”

You pinch your thumb and forefinger together so that you don’t snap. It’s such a shame that such a pretty man is such a fucking asshole.

The mouse starts to feel slick from your clammy hands as you click around, trying your best to track the package. Slam!

Eddie drops the box of records on the far end of the front desk, making you jump. He grabs a box cutter and pulls open the mess of cardboard and packing tape as aggressively as possible.

Your head snaps in his direction. “Can’t you do that anywhere else, Munson?”

“Nah, babe. My only entertainment for the day is pissin’ you off, and I just clocked in.”

You facepalm. “Jesus fucking Christ, I miss Robin.”

Eddie cups his hand around the shell of his ear. “What’s that, princess? You need Buckley, huh? Bet she puts up with your shit.”

You stand up. “More like she puts up with me talking about the shit you put me through, because you masquerade as a sweet little angel when you work with her.” You’ve moved toward the other end of the counter before you can even realize, leveling with Eddie and getting in his face.

He places both of his hands on the table, grinning like the cat that got the cream. “Maybe it’s because Robin isn’t a fucking priss, and actually has a personality.”

That hits a nerve, and Eddie catches the way your brows twitch. But your poker face doesn’t slip, not for a second. Your eyes flick to the front door.

“You have a customer, Munson. I’ll go take care of the records. Oh, and they’re a chick. Maybe you can go see if she has a personality that’s up to your standards and get your dick wet so that there’s a slight chance you become less of a raging asshole.”

Eddie looks over his shoulder at the young woman who’s just walked through the door. She has long, dark hair and more piercings than he can count. She’s his type, and he hates that you clocked that. When he turns back to you, you’re already taking the box off the counter.

“Oh, and Eddie? Fuck you.”

You get the vinyls sorted and put away in record time.

————

If it’s possible, the next day is hotter than the last. You’re sweating the second you walk out of your front door, your hairline quickly dampening and your thighs sticking together on the drive to work.

You put on the one short dress you own today, grateful for the fact that your place of occupation doesn’t have a strict dress code. It’s too hot to wear anything, but the thin, mesh-like fabric and little spaghetti straps will do just fine.

Luckily for you, Eddie’s shift doesn’t start until one, so you’ll be able to have a chill morning where you won’t feel like blowing your own brains out. Knock on wood, but you even feel a little giddy because Robin opened, which means she’ll be there to welcome you and greet you with a bit of peace.

You pull open the front door, and pick up speed, knowing the cool air is just within your reach. The sounds of heavy metal reach your ears before you see him.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.”

You consider yourself lucky that the floor is empty, because you did not consult your conscience for one second before expressing your pure annoyance that Eddie is here before he was meant to be.

You push up your sunglasses so they’re level with your eyebrows, and take a look at the figure standing behind the counter. There is no Robin anywhere in sight. “Where is Robin? Why the fuck are you here?” You catch Eddie’s gaze drag up and down your bare legs and that good mood flies right outside the front door.

“Why are you dressed like that?”

You let out a bitter laugh. “What’s the matter, Eddie baby? You not see a lot of shoulders in that fuck ass club of yours?”

You pull your sunglasses back down over your eyes and grin, because you’ve just seen Eddie Munson blush. That one really hit the mark, and you are immensely pleased with yourself.

Even more so when you realize he’s following you. You start switching your hips, knowing where his gaze is. You’re not as stupid as he thinks.

His wallet chain is jingling, his hair flying behind him as he jogs to meet you in the middle of the store. If a customer were to walk in right now, they’d see the both of you standing nose to nose, a murderous look in your eyes, and probably feel like they’d just walked in on a taping for a soap opera.

“What do you know about my fuck ass—” He coughs, practically chokes. “W-what do you know about Hellfire?” Eddie asks. You can almost see his blood boiling.

You put your hand on his chest. “I’m a rogue, bitch.”

The sound of your laugh reaches Eddie’s ears before he’s even registered your hand on him, your breath on his neck, and that you’ve turned around and disappeared. There’s no way you’re not a witch. Are you a witch? What does a hex feel like?

Eddie starts walking to the stacks, suddenly encouraged to see if you carry any witchcraft-related texts. The doorbell chimes and he’s forced to spin around.

The group of people that have just pushed through the doors is huge. At least six teenagers of varying heights, followed by four or five college-aged kids. And they all look like they’re on a mission. Two of them head straight for the records, one for the magazines, and he loses sight of the rest down the romance aisle.

In the back, you lock up your bag and shake out your shoulders.

Your fingers fly over the radio, quickly changing the station Eddie had chosen to one you know plays much better music. You turn the dial down a little too, having already started to feel blood leaking out of your ears.

At the counter, Eddie watches in horror as the teenagers grab armfuls of records and CDs. What’s worse is that a family of four walk in next. An older woman walks straight up to him. “Excuse me, sir?” Sir? What is he, a fucking mummy? “Where are your bibles and Christian novels?” He catches her eyeing the ink littering his pale arms.

“I can show you to them, ma’am. If you wanna come with me, we’ve got a whole section just for that!” Your bubbly voice meets Eddie’s ears. And so do the sounds of “There She Goes” by The La’s.

The woman turns on you, her smile brightening, and she’s quick to follow your purposeful step. Over your shoulder, you wink at Eddie.

He knows it’s evil. He knows he fucking hates your guts. He hates that you’ve just charmed that red flag of a woman. But he’ll be damned if he fails to admit that his zipper didn’t feel just a little tighter at that faux flirtation in your expression.

“Let me know if you need help finding anything, alright? And if we don’t have anything in stock, we can always order it for you!”

Your smile doesn’t reach your eyes and you’re practically stomping on your way back to the counter. You use the walk to actually take in Eddie for the first time since you came in.

He’s wearing a t-shirt that he obviously cut the sleeves off of at home, purely based on the way they’re fraying. His arms are…beefy, to say the least. His skin looks unnaturally soft, and his biceps are just so big and they look like they’re begging to be squeezed or bitten, even.

Your eyes wander lower when he’s called over to help a child cart probably ten CDs to the counter. His jeans aren’t tight, not exactly. But they fit. He’s got more ass than most people would know what to do with. You can’t help but wonder what it looks like outside of that ratty denim. Or what else he might use that bandana for.

You park yourself in front of the register, getting the system set up before the rush you can feel coming on. The cracks in the leather seat below you pinch your thighs, but you can’t be bothered to care. You deserve it for thinking of such a dickhead that way. Why are the gorgeous ones always assholes?

A quick glance over your shoulder tells you that Eddie’s not helping kids anymore, but shamelessly flirting with a girl who can’t be more than twenty-one. She looks slightly intimidated by him, until he flashes his ring-covered fingers in front of her. You recognize that look, the one that tells you she might just eat him alive.

You fear she’ll be immensely disappointed when she truly gets to meet his personality.

In the time he’s been trying to woo this young lady, a line has formed, and now you’re stuck cashing people out. The Christian lady is first.

“You find everything you needed today?”

She drops some change into the tip jar and takes a mint from the tray you just restocked. “Yes, I did, sweetheart, thank you for asking. You see that? Yes, that one—isn’t it gorgeous?”

She forces you to look at the fancy bible she’s picked out, and you do so despite the voice inside your head screaming for her to fucking pay already and get out because she’s been here long enough and the line is only getting longer.

“It sure is!” You do your best to smile kindly. You hand her the receipt and a small card that not only thanks her for her purchase, but promises a ten percent discount if she comes back within the next month.

The next customer is easy, a ten year old with a storybook that has colorable pages and a bookmark with rainbow tassels. You hand him a sticker and tell him you like his Gizmo shirt, and he beams his way out the door.

When you are confronted with a set of parents who clearly have more kids than they seem to want, you feel a warm breath on the back of your neck. “You have a happy pill on you I can have?”

Eddie takes the stack of books out of your hands and places each one in a paper bag. The customers aren’t even looking at you, what with the husband fussing about inflation and How much for a paperback? and the toddler trying to eat the rug.

“No, sweetie,” you start, sliding the bag across the counter, hoping maybe the woman will notice and take her gaze off the street just outside the window. She takes it without looking at you, without a word, and the husband walks away mulling over the receipt, not bothering to do a headcount of kids. “I can’t keep up with your stash of boner pills.”

Eddie laughs. He tosses his head back, bearing his thick neck to you. It’s a slow sound. You can’t help but feel like it’s not something you should hear. It feels like the kind of laugh someone saves for a lover in privacy. And it’s so gravelly and deep.

The line has slowed, and all that’s left for you to do is keep an eye out for the customers slowly making their way up front.

You tilt your head a little in Eddie’s direction, signaling that you’re speaking to him. “You probably do need them though, based on the way you were eye-fucking that girl earlier. God knows you’re gonna need a little…happy to keep up with her.”

Eddie bends a little at the knees, getting his head completely level with yours, his brown eyes twinkling with malice. “You think about my dick a lot, princess?”

You place your hand on the counter, less than an inch between yours and Eddie’s fingers. One move and they’d be touching. Hell, one step forward and your front would be pressed to his. “More like I worry about it,” you say.

He quirks a brow, his lips ticking up at the corners. “Yeah? Why’s that?”

“Since I see you try and pick up a girl in the store at least three times a week and you know what? They never stick. So either it’s that you can’t get it up, or it’s that if you treated any woman as well as you treat that guitar of yours, maybe they’d be satisfied.”

Eddie takes a step forward. You’ve never been this close to him. “You know, Princess, they might not last, but based on your fucking attitude, it seems like you’re jealous.”

“Jealous?”

He pushes a strand of hair out of your face. Your blood pressure spikes. It feels like your veins are turning colors with how angry you are. Eddie has the nerve to laugh.

“Yeah. I think all this bitchiness comes from the fact that no one will put their dick anywhere near you. They’re probably afraid you’ll make it shrivel up and die.” You don’t say anything, and he just keeps going. “Hell, I’m nice enough that I’d fuck you if that meant you’d get off my back.”

Your entire body goes rigid. And in that moment, you know that’s exactly what he wanted from you. But you refuse to give him the satisfaction.

“Thanks for the offer, Munson. But I’d rather gouge my own fucking eyes out than let you touch me. If you wanna see me as a priss, that’s fine. But at least I’m not an insufferable prick who can’t give a damn about anyone who’s not shoved so far up my own ass and ready to fall at my feet at any given moment. Some people have to grow the fuck up.” You practically spit out the last few words, your voice laced with venom.

Eddie blinks. His cheeks are flushed, his eyes glazed over. For the first time since he met you, he doesn’t have shit to say.

————

You and Eddie are the only ones on schedule today.

You haven’t spoken in days, just moving around one another and doing your jobs in silence. You can’t lie about the pride you feel in your chest from having finally gotten to him. Even if the dead quiet is unsettling, you feel a sick sense of satisfaction.

You think Eddie might’ve even mastered the art of a fake, but amiable personality.

You’re currently hiding away in the back room, unpacking new shipments of books, vinyls, display materials, along with all the shit you actually need like paper for the register and cleaning supplies.

Not that it matters where you are because you’ve had a total of one customer today. But that’s how Wednesday’s go.

It’s sort of mindless, this activity. You slide the box cutter over the packing tape, rip open each box, take everything out, stomp the box flat, repeat. It’s not very stimulating, but you don’t hate it.

The last box though is covered in enough clear tape to catch every fly in the world, and it’s taking some serious sawing to get through. You set your hand on the worn and slightly damp cardboard, bracing yourself to get one end of it loose.

You’re just getting there when the blade finds a raindrop on the silky tape and slips free. You’re not expecting that, of course, and the blade slices the skin of your forearm quickly and thoroughly.

You yelp, dropping the box cutter. You’re never one to wail or scream, but you let out a whimper at the shock of pain. Your non-dominant hand starts to shake as you take in the wound.

You’re too panicked to realize that your frightened exclamation could be heard up front, considering there’s no music playing and you left the receiving room’s door open.

It doesn’t look deep enough to need stitches, but it’s bleeding. Quite a bit, actually.

“Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.”

There are thudding footsteps, and then Eddie appears in the doorway. “Fuck fuck fuck, what? Bein’ so damn loud.” He pauses, taking in the sight before him.

Your eyes are glazed over, your hands shaking, and you’re cupping your forearm so as to not let blood drip all over the floors.

“Oh fuck off, I do not need this right now!” you exclaim, knowing he’s going to berate you or say something demeaning and you are not going to cry in front of him.

Eddie says your name.

He never says your name. It makes you look up at him, and you almost feel nauseous at the sincere look on his face.

“Do you need me to drive you somewhere?”

You roll your eyes. “No, Eddie. I’m not fucking helpless! And I’m not bleeding out either!”

He steps towards you, his hands outstretched like he’s a ringmaster, like he’s trying to tame an apex predator. “But you are bleeding.”

“No fuckin’ shit, Sherlock—”

“Let me help you—”

You decide to shove past him, whimpering your way towards the bathroom. Eddie is on your heels. You try to shut the door in his face, but he plants his boot firmly on the floor and prevents you from it. His glare is unwavering.

He repeats your name once more. It sends a shiver down your spine. “Just—just fucking stop for a minute, okay? Let me help you. Let me do this one thing without any of this shit, you hear me?”

You blink. Eddie kicks the door stopper down so it stays open. His eyes flick to the toilet seat. “Sit.”

You’re too winded to say no. So you sit down, cradling your arm, while Eddie rummages around for gauze and wipes and whatever the fuck he can find because he’s not a nurse but he has had to clean himself up on more than one occasion.

You can’t process that Eddie is treating you this way. Like a human. That he’s insisting on helping you when he doesn’t get anything out of it.

When he returns, he settles on his knees in front of you, looking into your eyes to make sure it’s okay for him to touch you. You hate the way your stomach flips. But the little shift in your arm tells him it’s alright.

Eddie’s fingers are cold on yours as he turns your forearm outward so he can look at the wound. You can’t help but watch as he works on you. Takes care of you.

He sets a paper towel underneath your arm, using another to press down on your skin and make sure the bleeding has stopped. The pressure hurts, but you don’t say a word.

Eddie hooks his foot around the corner of the trash can, pulling it closer. He throws out the bloody towel and wets another, being as gentle as he can in an effort to clean all of the dried red splotches from your skin.

The cut isn’t deep, but it definitely nicked a few capillaries along the way. It is a little longer though, and Eddie has to use two big pieces of gauze to cover it. This is after he’d swiped your arm with alcohol wipes, grinning to himself because of how hard you were trying not to show him any weakness.

Eddie’s thumb lingers on your skin long after he’s taped you up. You’re both silent, sitting in your shitty workplace bathroom. You can feel that he wants to say something, but you don’t know what. It’s why you haven’t gotten up yet.

You notice his eyes on your face before you meet his gaze. “Will you look at me?” he says. Your heart jolts in your chest.

“What for?”

“So that I can tell you why I’ve been a giant dick since I met you and you’ll see I’m being real with you.”

Your head shoots up, mainly because you can’t really believe he’s just said those words. “Hold on,” you laugh, “You’re going to explain yourself now? After I spent all that time trying to be your friend and you—”

“Treated you like shit, yeah I know.” Eddie drags his hands down his face. You’re not sure why, but you feel compelled to listen to him. “I showed up and you were there in your cute fucking skirts and you were so nice to everyone and just so…good? I couldn’t stand it.”

You blink.

“I’m not like that. I’m not good with people and empathetic like you are and it takes me a long fucking time to do anything right. And I chose to take that out on you, to hate you, because you were so perfect, and that was easier than falling for you.”

Your mouth drops open. He what? Eddie waves his hands in your direction.

“Close your mouth, you’re gonna catch flies. I hated that I could’ve dropped to my knees for you the second I met you. You looked at me like I was precious, like you were happy to meet someone new, and I’m such a fuck up, such a nuisance to so many people, that there was no way I was going to let a pretty girl like you befriend me and have me ruin it all. Because the truth is, I’d kill to be as fucking good as you are.”

You start shaking your head. You feel your eyes glaze over, so you look down at your freshly bandaged arm.

“And I realize that the only reason you’re a dick to me is because I started that shit.”

You let out the barest hint of a laugh. “It’s called matching your energy. There wasn’t any point in trying to befriend you when you…hated me.”

Eddie says your name again. “I don’t hate you. I do hate myself though, and that I was so—”

“Jealous?” you interrupt, finishing for him.

He tugs on the hair at the base of his neck. God, this is the most ridiculous fucking thing.

“Yeah. Jealous that I don’t have as much good in me as you do. I’d see you working, see you happy to help anyone, see you pull more weight than anyone else here. I hated that you’re everything I’m not.”

When you finally look back up at him, you’ve gone all teary, and something inside Eddie breaks. It snaps.

“We’re not supposed to be the same. If we were, nothing would ever work. You act like you’re just—just this helpless piece of shit, Eddie. You aren’t. But I can’t make you realize that. All I can do is tell you that if you want to be more charismatic—or whatever the fuck—you gotta work at it.”

He’s looking at you with his stupid ass doe eyes, and you think you finally understand him.

“It doesn’t matter if you’re everything I am, Munson. No one else is livin’ your life for you.” You start to trail off, but not quite yet. “I wish you hadn’t been so fucking sincere so I could yell at you.”

Eddie tosses his head back, bearing his neck to you, and laughs. He raises his hands, beckoning you. “C’mon. Let me have it. You deserve it for how many times I’ve called you a priss.”

You shake out your shoulders, and if you weren’t still drained from the box cutter incident you’d jump up and hop back and forth like you’re readying to get in the ring.

“I get it, you know? But I also don’t think it’s fair, because, and I’m gonna be honest here, the day you got hired I thought you were so gorgeous. Trust me, I was fully weak in the knees. You were also dressed like, well, you, and I wanted to at least make friends with you because you seemed, to use your words, good.”

“I heard you crack a few jokes, saw you picking up on how things worked, and then with me it was like you had this alter ego. I just don’t think it was fair that I got the short end of the stick here, even if I did enjoy being a smartass to you. So I guess what I’m really saying is, why me? Why weren’t you a dick to Robin, or Brian or fuckin’ Keith? Why not take out your jealousy on someone else?”

Eddie stands up, shoves his hands in his back pockets. “You can hit me if you feel like it, because I know this is going to sound fucked.” He pauses, and then all the words spill out at once, leaving you completely breathless when he’s finished.

“Not only was I jealous of how perfect your soul is, but you being so sweet made me want you. I wanted you all to myself. I wanted that personality, those kind remarks, that look you get in your eye when you’re listening so well, I wanted it all around me, all the time. It felt like you were this fucking angel, I wanted to lose myself in you.”

“But it didn’t feel like I’d be worthy of you either. I figured you’d get sick of me, real quick, when you realized I wasn’t as good of a person as you. When you figured out all the shit I need to work through. It seemed easier to hate you than to have you see me the way everyone else does. Nobody wants a work in progress.”

You laugh. You take in your surroundings, still in the work bathroom, and you laugh. Eddie’s brows shoot up, and his heart drops out of his ass and onto the tile floors below him.

“Eddie, everyone is a work in progress. And I am an extremely patient person.”

He recovers himself fast enough to make one more smartass remark. “You’re sure you don’t wanna kick me in the balls or somethin’?”

You take a step towards him, breathing deeply. Breathing him in.

“Not right now, Eddie. What’s frustrating though, is how much I want to kiss your dumb ass. Your annoying, over-complicating, completely ridiculous, stupid hot fucking ass.”

Eddie blinks. You might as well have kicked him in the balls because he can’t even think a single coherent thought now. Not with the way you’re pushing up onto your toes and pulling him down towards you, shaking your head so he doesn’t make up something stupid about not deserving it.

And then your mouth is on his. Your lips are so warm, and everything else disappears. All Eddie can feel is you. Your perfume engulfs him, the heat of your chest pressed against him, the soft fat of your hip under his hand. When you pull on his hair he almost whimpers.

You kiss hard, harder than he’d have thought, but it’s so gentle at the same time. You’re kissing him stupid. There’s no other way to put it. The only thing that pops in his head is that his suspicions about you being a witch were totally fucking spot on.

When you finally pull away, your lips have gone all puffy, and there’s this dazed but incredibly satisfied look in your eye. He’d take you home right now and get on his knees for you if you’d let him.

Your lips tick up at the corners, and he has to shake his head so he can really hear what you’re about to say.

“Aren’t we on the clock, Eddie?”

————

note: none of the gifs or images i use are mine! i get most of my images from pinterest or here, and gifs from about the same. please let me know if i ever don’t credit someone properly!

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celiime · 21 days

Text

୨ৎ — .ᐟ Him ‘n his stupid infinity! [Pt.3]

—> Part 3 belonging to the series of him ‘n his stupid infinity. Refer to part 1 and part 2 for earlier parts!

╰┈➤ Gojo Satoru is once more struck with the less than ideal dilemma of his cute underclassman hating him! It seems like no matter what he does, he always remains the object of your hatred—and he doesn’t even know why! Will today be the day where he finally has a chance to reduce your hatred? And maybe find out why you hate him?

Or in which, You hate Gojo Satoru! Him and his stupid limitless technique. Why does he only turn it on around you? A mere first year. Will today be the day you get some closure? Just why is his infinity activated at the mere sight of you?

warnings: fluff, literally one line of angst, reader is in denial and gojo is head over heels, they both r very loud students, takes place in 2006, reader is so cute…even gojo thinks so!! reader is a first year, gojo is a second year. ^.^

p.s—> i really enjoyed writing this! gojo n reader r my roman empire, i need them to get together soon ☹️ also— does anybody notice how gojo’s thoughts contain less exclamation marks when he’s not arnd reader? hehe—she just brings out the whiny man in him.

“I hate the rain! I hate umbrellas! Ughhh—“ A sniffle resounded from the classroom of the third years’ classroom, “Everything is working against me! Even her!”

“It’s peaceful.” His best friend, Geto, retaliated, throwing him a questioning look over his shoulder, “Since when do you not like the rain?”

His gaze traveled over to the six full plastic bags on Gojo’s desk, seemingly filled with all kinds of candies and snacks, did his best friend buy the whole convenience store or something?

“And do these…copious amounts of snacks have anything to do with it?” He thinks he could make quite a lucky guess.

For as long as Geto Suguru has known Gojo Satoru, it was always a silent fact acknowledged between them that Gojo has always been a fan of the rain—mainly due to the fact that he can activate his infinity at will whenever the rain pelts on him too hard.

But, who else does his infinity activate at will at?

“She hates me, Suguru.” A whine left Gojo’s mouth as he squished his cheek against the cool surface of the desk, eyes tracing the trail of the rain as it stained the windows. “Even when I’m being chivalrous! She denies all of my help!”

Geto can’t help himself from rolling his eyes, though with a hint of fondness, at how you’re mentioned once more.

He can admit that their underclassman is especially charming in your own way, but Satoru’s comical whining is getting old.

No matter what the conversation is about, Gojo always finds a way to bring up his dismay about the failure of his advances towards their underclassman.

If it wasn’t so consistent, then Geto would’ve thought that it was cute.

“What? Did you push her into the rain or something?” He chuckled, throwing his dismayed friend one last look before looking back towards the window, watching the raging rain.

Gojo’s expression dropped even more at the mention, “Why do all of you say that?! I’m not a monster!” A sigh left Gojo’s lips, his glasses discarded beside him on the desk as his gaze focused on two raindrops; a distance away from eachother, despite being on the same window glass.

A small smile unconsciously perks up the corners of his glossy lips.

If he could estimate the distance between those two drops, then he would say that they’re five feet apart.

Why, though?

Man! Even rain drops hated eachother! There was no hope!

“I just don’t understand why she has to keep her distance all the time! She’s so cozy with Haibara and Nanami, even with you and Shoko—but me?” He groaned, barely resisting the urge to roll his eyes, “Bleh! I’m trash apparently, according to her.”

Silence persisted in the classroom for a bit, granting peace and only broken by the sound of the storm outside.

Before his best friend’s laugh rang out in the otherwise empty classroom.

“Are you the reason why she came back to the dorms looking like that?”

The smile on Geto’s face was undeniably teasing, shoulders trembling with the evidence of laughter as he shook his head fondly.

“Suguruuu! Don’t laugh! Just listen—“

“I’ll be right back.” Your voice rang out in the first years’ classroom, tugging your bag off the chair as you approached the door. “And you’re not off the hook, Haibara!”

A whine followed your words, but it was quickly muffled as soon as the door to the classroom closed behind you.

A sigh left your lips, hiking your bag over your shoulder, stretching as soon as the door closed. “Man…”

As far as you knew…it is raining, and you love the rain!

Today has been a bit of a hectic day, so you were glad that you would have the time to walk on your own, peacefully, all the way to the nearby convenience store.

“Oh?”

At the, unfortunately, familiar voice, you snapped your head up, hands tightening around the strap of the bag.

“What.”

Ew. Why is this infinity activating idiot here?! Did he never have class or something? You seriously doubt he even attends his classes—based off of what Geto told you.

Does he have nothing better to do than pick on you everyday?

“And where are you going?” Gojo’s voice rang out in the empty hallway, a smug lilt to his tone as he tilted his head at you.

While he worked hard to maintain the cool and unbothered front on the outside. He was mentally cheering on the inside.

Yay! Score for Gojo Satoru!

Man, fate really liked him. I mean—why else would he be bumping into you every other day like this?

An exasperated look rested on your features, eye twitching in irritation, “I don’t think…that’s any of your business, Gojo-senpai.” You emphasized on the honorific, trying to resist the urge to just walk away and leave.

You dislike him…but, you also have to maintain respect to an upperclassman.

At the honorific, though a common thing to hear from the first years, Gojo couldn’t help but feel his heart race—feeling as if a cupid’s arrow had pierced through it. Not the bad kind this time!

Gojo is willing to hang onto any string of hope, even if your current glare was snapping the thread.

“Aw, come on! I can’t be not suspicious if my cute underclassman is leaving class in the middle of the day with her bag.” A huff left his lips, the signature pout making its way onto his lips.

What a man child!

“Are you sick?”

Your eye twitched.

“Tired?”

Your lips settled into a frown.

“Are you injured? But you had no mission today!”

Your eyes narrowed into a glare.

“Or—!”

“Enough!” A cry leaves your lips as you glare up at him, eyebrows pinched together, “I’m going to the convenience store! There! Happy?”

Silence took over, filling the hallway as they remained standing—five feet apart—with you glaring up at him, hands clutching into the strap of your bag.

Huh—why was this idiot so silent?

For Gojo, it felt like everything else you said had went through one ear and left out the other, the tinted view of you through his glasses was almost intoxicating.

The way that you had to look up at him, okay maybe you were glaring but whatever, your eyes rounded with annoyance—it was a sight that he should’ve gotten used to.

But it still managed to make his heart lurch everytime you even looked at him.

“Can I come with?” An excited exclamation left his lips, eyes sparkling as he shot you a small pleading look, “Pleaseee!”

This was definitely his chance!

“No.” So blunt!

“Why nooot? ‘promise I’ll be good company!” A whine left his lips, “Besides, it’s raining!”

…

Hah? What was this idiot on about?

You shot him a weirded out look, “Okay? Thanks? I sure couldn’t guess from the rain pelting on the classroom window.”

Gah! Now he seemed like a total idiot!

“Wait! I mean—you don’t have an umbrella!” He flailed his hands around, a panicked look setting onto his features, “I have one! Who wants to walk in the rain without an umbrella, right?” A hurried laugh slipped from him.

Was the Gojo Satoru nervous? You tilted your head, raising an eyebrow.

Of course he was nervous! He has one chance to make this work!

“I’ll just borrow an umbrella from Haibar—“

Oh, hell no!

“No! No—he’s like—his umbrella is probably not as functional as mine!” He spouted anything he could, trying to salvage anything that could be saved.

You raised a brow.

Huh? What? That doesn’t even make sense! No way his idiocy could reach those levels.

“That doesn’t even make sense! Your cursed energy is messing with your head or something!” You huffed, “Over my dead body will you accompany me!”

“Woooo!”

The sound of an umbrella opening echoed infront of the entrance of Jujutsu Tech, lost in the noise of the rain hitting the concrete harshly.

“Do you even want anything from the convenience store? Or are you looking for any reason to be anywhere but class?” You scoffed, crossing your arms as you watched him open the umbrella.

“You can’t keep skipping, yknow.” He skipped class way too much.

A nervous look was thrown to the storm outside, biting down on your bottom lip as you looked back at the umbrella in his hands.

How was his umbrella going to cover the both of you if you maintained the five feet rule?

Oh.

And the infinity.

Despite willing yourself to not get your hopes up, you couldn’t help but wonder if he would actually be decent this time and would keep his infinity off. No way he went through all this trouble only to have you stand in the pouring rain, right?

Gojo threw you an offended look, “Eh?— I just want to accompany my underclassman to the convenience store, like a good upperclassman would!” Before his shoulders dropped, a faux look of exasperation crossing his features.

“And I guess I could get something or two for Suguru.”

This was it! His chance to impress you and charm you away!

“It is my duty, as your faithful upperclassman, to make sure you’re safe all the time!” A charming smile perked up on his glossy lips, placing his hand over his heart in a display of chivalry.

Yaaay! He was probably looking cool as hell right now! You must totally be falling in love with him right now!

“Keep me…safe while going to the…convenience store?”

On his precious underclassman’s face was a smile, one so soft and sweet that he was afraid he would melt if he kept staring at it for too long.

your eyes carried a glint of a sparkle in them—a contrast to the gloomy weather—and Gojo always thought he had the prettiest eyes but—

He was seriously starting to doubt that now.

“That’s the dumbest thing, ever. I’m a sorcerer too, no?” You let out a small chuckle, exchanging a small glance with his glasses covered eyes.

The carrier of six eyes could pass down the title of the prettiest eyes to someone else now.

And oh—that chuckle.

His hand tightened around the handle of the umbrella, feeling a small lump form in his throat.

You shook your head, flashing him a weird look at his sudden silence, “Whatever, Gojo-senpai. Let’s just go. I don’t want to stay around you longer than necessary.”

So mean!

Tipping the umbrella forward, Gojo nodded his head towards the school doors, “After you.~”

He was being such a gentleman! Oh—how your heart must be fluttering for him right now!

“Idiot.” You scoffed.

He was such an idiot. Did he think he was in a movie or something?

A sigh left your lips, shaking your head in reply, “Don’t get me wet.” You mumbled in a warning tone, noticing how he held the umbrella at arm’s length.

A suggestive smirk flashed on his features, “Oh?~”

Your cheeks heated up, “Creep!” You huffed, walking beside him as they exited the building, protected from the rain by the shade of the umbrella above both of you.

“What a shameful excuse for an upperclassman. Good thing we have Shoko-senpai and Geto-senpa—“ You paused, noting something.

Huh…no infinity. You are…walking under the same umbrella.

Sure, you weren’t exactly standing close like you should be under an umbrella, there was some distance, but his umbrella was big enough to cover both of you even while there was a small distance between you.

3 feet!

Hwaaah! They were three feet away and he didn’t activate his infinity! This was…a big achievement.

You cleared your throat, directing your gaze down as you focused on the splashes caused by your steps, pressing your lips into a straight line as you fought back the heat on your cheeks.

“Ahem…”

Confused by the sudden silence, Gojo turned his head to the side, tilting his head as he stared down at you, “Hey, yo—“

Ah?—

Gojo’s breath hitched, feeling his chest constricting as soon as he saw the absolutely bashful look on your face.

Gojo is familiar with looks of bashfulness, he’s a witness to these expressions each time a girl bounds up to him with red cheeks and a compliment. He’s not new to these looks—in fact, they’ve gotten quite old to see.

But…

Gojo thinks that a bashful look is absolutely precious on his little underclassman. It’s a sight that he doesn’t think he’ll ever tire of, no matter how much he encounters it.

“What’s with the radio silence, hm? Did I finally charm you? I knew it would happen!” He slipped in a quick remark in order to save face, trying to uphold his cool front.

“What? Cat got your tongue—oh wait, my bad. I forgot you’re like a little kitten, heh.”

It had always been a wish to see you flustered because of him, to see you blush and get embarrassed by him.

He’s starting to take back his words now.

He doesn’t think it will be good for his heart if he sees the sight of you being flustered, it isn’t healthy for it to be tugging at his heart this much.

His hand tightened around the handle of the umbrella, unconsciously tilting it a bit towards you in order to shield you from the rain completely.

His precious little underclassman.

You looked up, swallowing the lump in your throat, before turning your head towards him. This seems like a good time to finally crack the question.

“Gojo-senpai…” Oh, his heart stopped at the honorific, “Why do you always—“

Everything you said went through one ear and left out the other. Fuck. His heart was racing way too much, he couldn’t focus on anything but your bashful expression and that..

Honorfic.

It was dripping with honey whenever you uttered it out.

His eyes rounded behind his glasses, a subtle red flush spreading across his cheeks. His face felt like it was on fire, the heat unbearable. It felt like this is the first time he’s been flustered.

Like the tables have been turned.

“Gojo-senpai?” Fuck. You said it again.

“Are you listening to m— Ah!”

Before either of you knew it, you felt an invisible force repel, no—force you away from Gojo, almost as if a wall had suddenly formed between you.

It quite literally felt like, instead of only forming a barrier between you as usual, it pushed you away.

“Hey—!” A panicked call left Gojo’s lips, eyes widening.

You stumbled over your feet, due to not having time to process the sudden push, a small squeak leaving your lips as you slammed down onto the floor—right on your butt. Ouch.

“Fuck—“ A hurried curse slipped past Gojo’s lips as he looked down at you, “Hey, are you alright? What happened?”

A small hiss left your lips as you felt the cold rain water pelt harshly onto your head, soaking you from head to toe in no time. Your fingers twitched, feeling the hard concrete under them.

So much for not wanting to get wet.

This…despicable man!

You kept your head down, trying to will yourself to calm down, taking a deep breath.

“Hey.” Gojo lowered his voice, brows furrowing in concern at your sudden silence. He kneeled infront of you, keeping the umbrella over him—you were already wet anyways. “What’s up? Did you hurt yourself or something? Let me see.”

At his words, your head snapped up, eyes narrowed into a glare, face contorted into an angered expression, “What’s wrong with you?!” Seriously! Did he find any of this funny?

Huh? What did you mean what was wrong with him? Is it so bad to want to check up on his junior? Arrest him then!

He huffed, tilting his head with a confused hum, “What’s that supposed to mean? You’re the one who tripped. Don’t blame it on me!” He clicked his tongue, shaking his head disapprovingly, “You really ought to stop being so clumsy.”

He internally cooed. Poor underclassman, these strong winds probably pushed you! Worry not, he’ll protect you!

You sneered. “Do you not have a single serious bone in your body?”

Was this idiot being for real? This really was not a funny joke, this was you constantly getting humiliated whenever you were around him.

This time, you would not only be humiliated, but will also get a cold! Ahh! This was so frustrating!

“Shut up! I’m not laughing! Nobody is!” You could feel the tip of your nose freezing, hair sticking to your face as the water seeping into your uniform weighed you down, a shiver running down your spine.

Seriously, why were you always so against him helping you? Your hatred for him really ran a long way, huh?

“You always do this! How hard is it to not do it? Will you die if you hold back from doing it?” You huffed.

“What are you on about? I think the rain water is getting into your brain!” A pout pulled down the corners of his lips as he looked at you, “Why would I go through all the trouble of getting you to walk with me if I was going to deliberately push you or something?”

You really weren’t making sense to him! He was only being chivalrous and helping you. What did you mean by he always does this? Be a gentleman? Duh!

A frown rested on your lips, “I don’t know? You’re so complex! You always end up doing this. What about me is so intimidating?”

Nothing. Gojo thinks that nothing about you is intimidating except for your beauty, that’s the most intimidating thing about you.

Besides, how could he ever find you intimidating when, even though you were on the ground and he was kneeling infront of you, you still had to look up at him? You were so small.

“You? Intimidating? Please. A little kitten is more intimidating than you.” He chuckled, shaking his head, a teasing smile on his lips.

Gojo thinks that’s the most precious sight he would ever grow to see in his life. He finds himself feeling bad for everyone else that never had the opportunity to view such a cute sight like you in the rain—

but, he also finds himself feeling prideful that he’s the one to see it.

He’s such a lucky bastard, no?

“Nevermind! I don’t want to go to the convenience store! What’s the use, anyways?” You retaliated, a hand raising to your head to brush away the strands of hair sticking to your face—

Gojo’s heart skipped a beat.

“Don’t approach me ever again! I’ll tell everyone at school how despicable you really are! Hmph.”

“Wait wait—what?! No! I’m the totally cool and dashing upperclassman that loves all his underclassmen—“ You the most. “And all his underclassmen love him!” Except you. And Nanami.

Bless Haibara’s soul.

You shot him an exasperated look, “Your delusions are stronger than your cursed energy.” You mumbled under your breath, breath coming out in a small cloud of air—a testament to how cold you are.

Internally, Gojo felt horrible, seeing you this cold, fighting to not shiver and your face turning red, but it was also adorable.

“Huh?! That’s so mean! Where do you store all of that hatred, huh?” He pouted, feeling an arrow strike his heart at your direct comment.

“Shut up.” You grumbled, supporting your weight on your hands as you stood up, kneeling down and picking up your drenched bag, “I knew it was wrong to trust you.”

At your words, a lump formed in Gojo’s throat, hand tightening around the handle of that stupid umbrella. He looked up at you from his kneeling position, watching you stand up and adjust your bag over your shoulder.

You always said hurtful things to him, but it resonated a lot more with him this time. Even when you hurt him with your words, you still looked as majestic as ever.

Did you ever think about how alluring you are?

“Hmph. My bad for wanting to help you!” He huffed, standing up and closing the umbrella, tucking it under his arms as he folded them, “Where’s my ‘Oh thank you, Gojo-senpai! You’re the coolest upperclassman ever!’ ?”

Your eye twitched at how he pitched up his voice, a horrible impression of you, “Go die, Gojo-senpai!”

You glared at him, before turning your back to him, walking back to the school, “I don’t want to see your face today.”

What?!— No!

“Wait—! I’m sorry!” He hurriedly followed after. He doesn’t even know what he did!

“I don’t care!” You looked at him over your shoulder, the rain falling harshly on your head, “Don’t—!” In your haste of wanting to berate him once more, you stumbled over your feet—for the second time that day.

Can you really be blamed? The concrete was wet and slippery and your wet shoes and socks weren’t doing you any justice. Plus the soaked clothes!

Gojo’s eyes widened, a panicked curse escaping his lips before—with his fast reflexes, he was the strongest after all—he stepped towards you, acting on instinct.

He hastily slid his arm around your waist, wrapping around it as his palm rested on your clothed stomach, supporting your back against his sturdy frame.

“I got you.” His tone dropped in pitch, holding you close against his chest, “Don’t worry.”

…

A small gasp left your lips, shoulders tensing up as you looked down, gaze falling on his giant palm that rested on your stomach, nearly taking up the whole circumference, your back pressed against his clothed chest, able to feel his sturdy muscles through his wet uniform.

His wet uniform…the rain is falling on him, he’s touching you…his infinity isn’t on!

You swallowed, heart stuttering in your chest, “Huh—“ You looked up at him, eyes round with shock, cheeks heating up despite the cold weather. “You’re…”

This is the first time…they’ve touched—let alone stood this close to eachother.

“You—“ He let out a staggering breath, arm tightening around your midsection, “See? I helped you..”

Gojo’s heart positively felt like it was about to burst, not only at how soft you felt under his touch, but also at the way you looked up at him.

Hair wet, looking up at him with those round eyes, filled with wonder and awe, rain water dripping down your cheeks—and most of all, the rosy tint on your cheeks that strangely matched the color on his cheeks.

Fuck. You were so cute.

His heart picked up the pace, not knowing how to react to this new overwhelming sensation he felt being this close to you.

“…” You pressed your lips together, feeling your clothes weigh you down as your stomach fluttered, “Gojo—senpai, you—!”

And of course, his body acted on his instincts, on what he knew to do best when the adrenaline rushed in.

Infinity.

A yelp left your lips as you stumbled forward, barely having the time to balance yourself and regain your footing—thankfully you managed to do it this time, and didn’t end up on you already sore bum.

You were just getting thrown around today like a damn ball! This is getting ridiculous! Can’t you get a break?!

“Huh? Is this your way of thanking me?” His annoying whine returned, gone his flustered nature and replaced with a pouting one, “Do you not feel soooo safe and protected in my arms..?”

Gah!— He just couldn’t win! Never with you!

“You jerk! You just don’t know when to stop!” You stomped your foot angrily, the water pooled on the ground splashing at your little movement.

You wholly believe he uses his technique to have fun more than he uses it to kill curses. The universe gifted the wroooong person!

“You’re so childish and you lack any type of common sense. You just enjoy getting my hopes up, huh?!” Damn him and his stupid limitless—his infinity, his six eyes!

“What hopes?! You’re the one who flips a switch all the time whenever I do something nice.” He huffs, crossing his arms, a pout on his glossy lips as he looked away.

Was being mean to him your way of denying you’re flustered? Weird. “You don’t know how to say thank you!”

You ignored how downright attractive he looked with his hair sticking to his face, wet with water and not in its usual style, “That’s because you don’t deserve it. Go die!”

You huffed, straightening your posture, before turning your back to him, stomping back to the school. You didn’t even feel hungry anymore.

Was it from the fluttering you felt in your stomach? That was probably just your stomach turning in disgust at the sight of him!

A dismayed hum left Gojo’s lips, rolling his eyes begrudgingly as he watched you walk away, “Talk about a moody underclassman, gee…” He snatched his phone out of his pocket, dialing a number.

“Heh…she looked like a soaked kitty, I should’ve snapped a pic.”

He held his flip phone to his ear, staring at his umbrella on the floor.

Huh? Why wasn’t he getting wet?

Since when did he turn on his infinity? Must be instinct as a response to the rain. He shrugged.

“Ah! Haibara! My favorite guy!” He grinned, pressing the phone to his ear, “Would you do your cool upperclassman a favor? Do you happen to know what a little moody kitty likes to eat from the convenience store?”

“Huh?— Hey— What happened?”

“Your best friend happened, Geto—senpai.” A sigh left your lips.

“Silly Satoru…what ever am I going to do with him.” A fond sigh left his lips.

“Kill him—“

“Alright alright.” He let out a small chuckle, charming, “Go to your room and change. Don’t catch a cold, ‘kay?”

He was so charming. The perfect example of an upperclassman, not like that other bastard.

Geto chuckled.

Hah…

Gojo would freak out if you got a cold, anyways.

452 notes · View notes

norrizzandpia · 9 months

Note

reader finding out that lando only pursued her bc one of his pr team told him to date somebody of her caliber

I love these kinds of tropes

One-Sided Fake Dating (LN4)

Summary: When Y/n has continuously been used for the image that has pristinely been constructed for her and the connections she has through relation to her parents, she has cultivated a dark image on the world, especially on love. However, when Lando comes into her life and shows her what it’s like to be wanted for who you are and not what you can provide, she begins to open up and she begins to explore what it’s like to be loved and to love. Although, nothing is permanent and what happens when the man she had thought to be better than everyone who had previously screwed her over turns out to be worse?

Warnings: angst, language, sexual references, i build this couple up just have them come crashing down, this one’s rough but all my posts are so its ok, family trauma, me being cliche when it comes to making up fake rich last names sorry sue me

Note: it’s a sad ending but AS WE ALL KNOW i cant take those so there will most likely be a part two lmk if yall want to see that

Part 2 link

She hated these things. Galas where men approached her for the last name written on her birth certificate and women fawned over her dress in order to become one step closer to the opportunities only she held access to. A drink in her hand, the little droplets leaking onto the ring adorning her finger, her eyes gazed upon attendees of the party her father had thrown. Men and women dressed to the nines in designer clothing, a rotten feeling manifested in her stomach. It was indescribably cold, something that settled within her and was a stark reminder that, in a room full of people ready to wait on her hand and foot, she was alone. Neither her father nor mother could make her feel any semblance of warmth, not when they exploited the image she had perfectly curated over the span of her life. The perfect, girl-next-door persona had been all she was destined for when she was birthed into the hands of Nick and Amy Winchester, two heirs to two successful oil businesses. Neither of them had truly made the effort to make her feel as though she was destined for more, other than a pawn in their Public Relations game.

She stared at them shortly, studying their faces and the way they moved about the room, wondering whether she had ever truly known them. Her parents were an anomaly, filthy rich and happy as ever. Although, no one ever knew what went on behind doors.

“Y/n Winchester, how lucky I am to finally meet you in person. I’ve heard so many great things.” A voice startled her from her deep mind, turning it back on to the mission at hand, putting on a front that she had everything she ever wanted.

Turning around, her gaze found that of Lando Norris, a man her parents had never shut up about, having been friends with his father and loving the way he so seamlessly fell into what they had always wanted her to be, but she never quite came close. This man was the image of the self-inadequacy she had been forced to feel from the moment she could slightly understand the concept. She despised him.

The fake smile she had flaunted for years graced her face, “Lando Norris, it’s lovely to meet you as well.”

He extended his hand to her, her fingers falling onto the bed of his as he pressed his lips to the back of her palm. The warm pressure spread up her arm and down her body as they held each other’s eyes. Something about the deep greenness of his made her want to know more, made the hatred and envy she had held for him diminish.

“I have to say you’re even more beautiful in person.” He whispered, lowering her hand but not letting go.

A tinge of red wrapped around her cheeks, “Thank you. You’re quite handsome as well.”

The entire thing felt incredibly mysterious. The way he cradled her hand; the way his eyes pierced hers; the way he was so intoxicating and the way she didn’t know why. She wanted more, wanted to know more.

Drowning in the confusion pertaining to her sudden change of feelings toward him, she couldn’t make out what he had been speaking about. As a result he simply stared at her with raised eyebrows, “Y/n, am I boring you already?”

She shook her head with a soft smile, “No, I’m sorry. Just got lost in thought.”

“About me?” He rubuttled quickly. So quick she couldn’t hesitate or think before she began nodding slowly. Her brain had shrunk at the hands of the smell of his cologne and all she could rely on was the years of PR training.

His eyebrows raised further, “Oh? Well, that’s a good sign considering I haven’t been able to take my eyes off you since you walked into the room.”

She choked slightly on her drink, not expecting him to be quite forward, “Sorry?”

He smiled a sinister smile, one that drew her in and made her want to run away all at once, “You’re intoxicating, Y/n.”

She cocked her head, “Is being bold your way of picking up women, Norris?”

He shook his head with a chuckle, “Being bold is my way of trying to make you fall in love with me. The women of my past are nothing like you, Winchester. I never wanted them to fall in love with me, however, with you,” He leaned in closer, “I want you all to myself.”

Pulsing between her legs told her this night would be ending very differently then she originally intended, “Is that so? I have to say, I’m not entirely opposed.”

His lips were centimeters from hers, his hot breath fanning her face, “Good because I was never going to stop until you were.”

—

In the light of the morning, Y/n’s mind ran wild at the consequences of what waking up in bed next to Lando Norris meant. He was known for sleeping around, for playing women and adding notches to his bedpost. Being another one of his past girls wouldn’t go over well for her image, an innocent and pure one that was meticulously portrayed so no one would see her as something inherently sexual.

However, as his arm slung over her waist, she couldn’t find it in herself to truly care. Sure, she was a bit panicked for what her parents would say, but with the memories of the night before and the dull aching between her legs, she knew this wouldn’t be a one time thing.

Throwing caution to the wind wasn’t something she typically did, but maybe she could try just this once.

His arm rustled on her warm skin, his eyelids creaking open as he stared at her, “Morning, Y/n.”

She giggled, “Not a good morning for you, Norris?”

His teeth peaked through in a flirtatious grin, “No, Winchester. It is a very very good morning.”

She turned around, slipping out of his arms and off the bed to pull her dress back on.

“What are you doing?” He asked, a grovel in his voice that made her never want to leave the quiet oasis of his room.

She turned around with a questionable glint in her eyes, “Leaving?”

He shook his head and propped his body up on his elbow, leaning over to grab her hand softly, “No, Y/n. Stay.”

There was a pleading in his eyes, one she had never seen in the media and one she had certainly never seen throughout the time they spent together. It made her give in.

She plopped back in bed next to him, his arm fell around her shoulders and he kissed her temple, “Why are you still in clothes?”

She laughed, thinking he was joking, but his hands over the soft skin of her arms as he pulled it down made the joyous sound dwindle down.

She certainly stopped laughing when his lips started descending down her stomach.

—

A persistent knocking on her door had her groaning and running over, “I’m coming!”

Her hand clutched the door knob, throwing open the door of her apartment near her university's campus, before she was greeted with the sweet image of her boyfriend.

She tilted her head with a soft smile, “Lan? What are you doing here?”

He pushed through the threshold, a nice smell of roses hitting her nose as he turned around to face her in her foyer.

“What’s with the flowers?” She questioned as he just stood there with an innocent smile.

He walked closer, planting a short kiss on her lips before whispering, “Happy three months.”

He held the flowers in between their bodies, continuing to grin at her as the occasion dawned on her.

She wrapped him in a hug, taking the red plant from his hands and kissing his cheek aggressively, “You are so cute! Thank you!”

He followed her further into the apartment as she went to the kitchen to put them in water. Questions flew from her lips, “How’d you know? Were you keeping track? You didn’t do this for our one month or two? Also, I thought we agreed to only celebrate the big ones like six months or a year? Was I supposed to get you something? Oh shit, Lan, I didn’t get you something.”

He giggled at her and shook his head, slithering his arms around her waist and pulling her into him when she was done with the flowers, “No, love, I just got a Snapchat memory that informed me it was three months ago today I asked you to be my girlfriend. I was going to ignore it, but I thought against it when I remembered how lucky I am to have you. I thought I’d just remind you of that.”

She blushed and wrapped her arms around his neck, “You’re sweet.”

“Only for you.” He murmured as she closed the gap between their lips.

At first, Y/n was a bit hesitant with Lando. With his past with women, sleeping around and never holding a commitment, she wondered if he would treat her a priority. Although, she was pleasantly surprised when he started speaking to her, treating her better than any of her ex’s. He was kind and gentle, compassionate, empathetic, understanding, and loving. He was everything and she was beginning to think he was her everything.

They continued kissing in her kitchen before she was reminded of the homework splayed out on the desk in her room, stress riddling her body once more. Lando clocked the tension, letting his hands rub up and down her back soothingly before softly speaking, “You okay, love?”

She tried to nod, but shook her head instead, her face pressing into his chest as she huffed, “No, I’m so stressed.”

Lando frowned, “Why? What’s going on?”

She led him to her room, his hand clutched in hers as she dragged him. When they reached her door, she opened it and he found a messy room drowning in papers and textbooks. The sight of it let alone made him panic.

“Christ,” He murmured. His hand squeezed hers in support as the two stared upon the mess.

Her voice became wobbly as she spoke, “I have so many assignments due and my room is a fucking shit show. I can’t think when it’s like this. It just adds to my stress. I don’t know what to do, Lando. I don’t have time to clean my room, I don’t have time to eat, I don’t have time to sleep. I’m fucking drowning.”

She choked up as her words felt suffocating. Lando was quick to pull her back into him, shushing her and caressing the hair on her head as she sniffled into his shirt. He led her to her bed, sitting her down and letting her lean on him, emotionally and physically. When she calmed down, he whispered into her hair, his lips having kissed multiple times there, “How about you sit at your desk, do what you can of your assignments, and I clean your room. I’ll make it spotless that way you don’t have to worry about it and then I’ll make some dinner, yeah? I can order in from your favorite place or I can make it myself. Whatever you want, baby. But, when your room is clean and the food is ready, you will give yourself a break. Trust me, laying with me on the couch and watching movies before going to bed at a reasonable hour will help you tomorrow so you can get more things done. You will get through this.”

She pulled back slightly, looking up at him with glossy eyes, “You’d clean my room for me?”

He chuckled, hands cradling her face, “Of course, love. I’d do a lot more for you.”

🏎️

Four hours later, Lando had cleaned her entire apartment, ordered her favorite meal from a diner down the street, and plated it on the countertop of her kitchen. He was pleased with himself when he walked into her room, lightly pulled her earphone out and led her back into the kitchen where her face lit up at what he had done. Falling into his arms, she mumbled quick praises of gratitude into his neck, kissing at the skin as a thank you.

The wrinkles in her forehead had loosened by the time they made it to the couch, his legs kicked up as she sprawled out on him. There was quiet conversation of what they would watch before settling on The Holiday, a movie Y/n had loved since the moment she watched it when she was twelve.

As much as she loved it, however, she fell asleep twenty minutes in. Soft intakes of breath alerted Lando of the sleeping girl on him and he decided to stay there. He watched the movie all the way through, scratching her back softly throughout the entire thing. She moved a bit, but never away from him, always closer to him and his heart warmed every time.

When he laid her down in her bed and she whispered for him to stay, there was no argument in his mind. He stayed and he was beginning to think he always would.

—

“What’s your biggest fear?” Lando said into the darkness of the night as they sat in his car.

Y/n thought it over, knowing exactly what it was, but deciding if spilling that to him was appropriate in a five month relationship.

“Spiders.” She replied, fear taking over and forcing her out of what she truly wanted to say.

Lando looked over at her blankly, “What’s your biggest fear, Y/n?”

She laughed, “Spiders, Lan.”

He shook his head, “Tell me the truth, love.”

She exhaled a breath and began, “Going my entire life without making my parents proud.”

Her sentence hung in the air, her words hitting him as he searched for clarification, “You have made them proud, Y/n.”

She scoffed and shook her head as the feeling of Lando’s hand slipping into hers spread throughout her body in a grave reminder that he was there for her, “No, they have never looked at me long enough to see what I’ve tried to achieve and what I have achieved.”

His eyes bore into the side of her face as he listened intently, “No one knows that my parents are not who they portray themselves to be. Sure, they’re in love and they have fun times together, but they never wanted me. I know that, they know that, the staff, and the people they’ve employed to keep our image know that. They had me out of obligation, out of pressure from the outside world to have a child after they got married. I know they never wanted children, they’ve both said it to me before. From the moment I was born, I was not seen as a human or a baby who needed nurturing, I was seen as an object that could warmly slip into the narrative of their lives and compliment the rumors surrounding them. I was never meant to be anything else than their public pride and joy. Privately, I have never meant anything.”

Lando’s fingers grazed over the skin of her cheek, wiping a tear she hadn’t realized was there. He turned her face to his, forcing her eyes to see the love that ran deep for her, and stated so forcefully, “You are so much more than that.”

She stared at him, not knowing what to say to something that had never been reaffirmed in her entire life, and waited for him to continue.

“For them to disregard you that way shows how shallow they are. It has nothing to do with you. You are not nothing. You should’ve never been exploited and made to feel as though you served someone else. You are wanted. I want you, Y/n. That means something. I know it does because I love you and I want you.” He finished, wiping the tears that flowed down her cheeks.

In a broken whisper, “You love me?”

He smiled at her, leaning in and letting his lips rest just beside hers, “From the moment I met you.”

The words brought life back into her body as she softly giggled through the wetness on her cheeks, “I thought you were trying to make me fall in love with you. Didn’t think the plan was for you to fall in love with me too.”

It wasn’t, he thought.

He kissed her, “It’s hard not to fall in love with someone like you. You are my everything, Y/n.”

Right there. His last sentence echoed what had been repeating in her head for months. A person who loved her just as much as she loved them, what a sight.

“I love you too, you know.” She said, loving the way he continued to wipe residual tears and whisper soft words that contradicted the idea engrained in her head that she wasn’t meant for great things, that she wasn’t intelligent or a force to be reckoned with. Single-handedly, unknowingly, Lando changed her narrative and the idea that, once her parents were gone, she was useless.

He nodded, “I know. I wouldn’t change it for the world.”

He wouldn’t, that was the truth. What this relationship was built on, though? He couldn’t bear to utter the words.

Lies.

—

Galas. Something she used to hate, but, with Lando’s hand on her thigh and his jokes in her ear, she began to find fun in them.

“Don’t you think that woman’s dress makes her look like a flamingo?” Lando lowly whispered as he discreetly pointed to someone across the room that had a light pink dress on, ruffled with feathers.

His comparison was spot on and Y/n had to stop herself from snorting out her drink, “Lando! Stop!”

She giggled and he leaned into her, the two a picture of young love. There were others sitting beside them at the table, drinking expensive wine from expensive glasses and observing the famous couple. In the six months they had been together, the public had not ceased to stop talking about the two. Lando had skyrocketed to worldwide fame, larger than what he had possessed before. Y/n being the internet’s it girl, heiress to billion-dollar oil companies and a young woman who had everything everybody else wanted, forced Lando into a large spotlight. There was traction surrounding his name and because of his connection to her, his companies, his career saw an increase in brand deals, income essentially. By just being her boyfriend, everything tied to Lando had exponentially grown. McLaren included. It was everything they had expected.

A little too much wine in one of Lando’s coworkers was dangerous as he blabbered out, “I’m surprised you two are still together!”

There were a few knowing chuckles around the table as everyone eyed each other. Lando gave him a fixed glare, dark and challenging as he tried to plead with the drunk man to stop talking.

Y/n’s eyebrows furrowed as she leaned in, “What do you mean?”

The man threw his hands up as he leaned back in his chair, “Just with the way you two got together, I didn’t think Lando would stick around for this long.”

“Y/n, let’s go.” Lando stood abruptly from the table, his hand in hers as he tried to pull her from the situation.

Y/n shook her head as all eyes stared at her, “No, Lando, what’s he talking about?”

Lando pleaded with her, “Y/n, listen to me. It doesn’t matter. Please. Come with me. Let’s leave.”

She was stuck, wanting to pry into the man’s mind, but seeing the way Lando was begging her to comply.

However, at the end of the day, she was a curious individual.

“Sorry,” She stuck her hand out to smooth down the table cloth, “Can you please elaborate?”

“Y/n-” Lando started, but she just shook her head.

His mind raced as reality dawned on him and the moment where he lost her came to fruition.

Wine sloshed out of his glass as the man drank the last sip before he began, “Lando started dating you because of your last name.”

There was a lingering smile on her lips from previously wanting to keep a happy demeanor at the Gala, but the moment the sentence fell from his lips, it gradually faded.

Lando sat back down beside her and wrapped a hand around her arm, the other on her thigh, and squeezed harshly.

“Y/n, he doesn’t know what he’s talking about.”

The man scoffed, “What are you talking about?! I was there! I was the one who suggested you approach her. I was the one who laid out what would happen to your career if you dated Y/n Winchester. Come on, Lando, don’t be a liar.”

Her heart beat slowly as she scanned the table, the others still sipping on their glasses as they watched the scene play out. Their expressions, lacking shock, made her realize that every person sitting before her knew that Lando’s love for her was a joke. Everyone, but her.

Her head gradually turned to the side, capturing Lando’s eyes with hers. There was still pleading within them, but, this time, he was pleading for her to still love him, for her to not leave him.

To hell with him, she thought.

“Is this true?” She asked, her tone cold and distant as she ripped her arm and leg from his grasp.

He shook his head, rubbing a hand over his face in anxiety, “No, well, kind of. Yes, but- Y/n,” He shot up from his chair as she made a move to leave.

She grabbed her purse which was hung over the back of her chair, her legs making quick strides toward the exit. Lando, being taller than her, walked quickly beside her, spewing out words that now meant nothing to her.

“I’m so sorry, Y/n,” He choked out. She didn’t have to look to know he was crying, “I didn’t know what I was doing. I was half drunk the night we got together, so were you. I always thought you were gorgeous. What I’m trying to say, fuck, is that it was never truly fake for me. You did mean something to me. You mean something to me. Y/n, are you listening to me?”

She threw open the doors to the party, letting the cool air coat the cold blood running through her veins, and whipped around aggressively to face him.

“Did you mean it when you said it?” She yelled, strong front trying desperately to stay up as she crumbled to pieces on the inside.

Lando shook his head in confusion, “When I said what?”

She stopped her foot on the ground, heel threatening to snap under the force, “When you said you loved me! When you said I meant everything to you! When you said I had purpose! Did you mean it?!”

She screamed at him and he stepped closer, but she put a hand up, “Don’t fucking come near me.”

Lando stood helplessly, “Yes, of course, I meant it. Y/n, everything was real for me.”

She cocked her head, “Was it? When did it stop being a ploy for my last name?”

Lando let his head fall to look at the ground, “The morning after we slept together.”

She groaned loudly, tears now falling freely from her cheeks, “Oh! How sweet! So, after you had sex with me, you started truly feeling something for me. If that’s even fucking true. You know, Lando,” She willed his eyes to keep her stare as she yelled, “You’re no better than everybody in there. I told you how I’ve never had anybody be in my life without wanting what comes with having a name like mine. I told you, I confided in you, how much it hurt for a ten word name to mean more than the feelings I have, to mean more than who I am as a person. You’re no better than my father, my mother, and everybody else who has exploited me in the past. Actually!” She continued, not caring that Lando was wiping tears off his face with his white button up, “Actually, you’re worse than all of them. At least, they were obvious with wanting me for the things I could give them. You made me think you loved me. You made me think that you fell in love with me for who I am. You made me think that I was finally being seen as a human being.”

Lando shot back, “I do love you, don’t fucking fight that. Don’t question that. I sure as fuck fell in love with you for who you are and I see you as who you are. Your last name doesn’t mean shit to me, Y/n.”

She hit his chest with her hand, “But, it did! It did, Lando, and that makes this fucking tainted! You’re just like them! You’re just like-”

She broke down into sobs, crying pathetically into his arms as he tried to coax her. The sound of betrayal was evident in the way she cried, a different kind to the one he heard before when her parents dismissed her or someone tried gaining something from her. This betrayal cut deep because of the love that clutched her heart and refused to let go even in the wake of what he had done. This betrayal ruined any semblance of trust she had with the world, demolishing it for anyone that tried to do what he attempted; to love her.

A moment went by, Y/n gathering herself and realizing she laid in the arms of someone she no longer trusted, and she forcefully backed herself away from him. Wiping her tears with his suit jacket, the one a bit too big for her because it was tailored to his frame and the one he had given her earlier in the night when she had grown cold, Y/n stopped meeting his eye.

“Delete my number from your phone. Never fucking talk to me again. You should be fucking ashamed of yourself.” She murmured, turning around and trying to walk down the dark street before Lando reached out to grab her arm.

When he forced her to turn around, his eyes were bloodshot and begging for forgiveness, begging for her, “Y/n, I love you. Please. Please.”

Still, she couldn’t meet his eye, softly and defeatedly whispering, “I will never be able to figure out if you love me for me or love me for what I can give to you. That is why this will never work. That is why you need to let go of my arm and let me go back to my apartment without you. That is why you need to let me go.”

He kept a hold on her arm and on the life he wanted them to have together, “Y/n, I can show you. I can show you how much you mean to me. Please, just give me another chance.”

She shook her head, “Goddamnit, Lando! Let fucking go of me! This is ruined! It will never be the same! You have done the worst possible thing. You have hurt me in the worst possible way. You have treated me the way everyone else has. I am not something you can use because you are greedy.”

He nodded his head intently, “I know. I know that. I always have.”

Fed up and emotionally distraught, Y/n ripped her arm from his hold and no longer did he reach out for her when her last parting words were, “No, you always haven’t. If you always had, you would’ve never approached me and we would’ve never found ourselves here.”

A/N: part 2?

UPDATE: part 2 posted

1K notes · View notes

robin374 · 8 months

Text

𝕺𝖓𝖑𝖞 𝖆 𝖋𝖔𝖔𝖑 𝖜𝖔𝖚𝖑𝖉 𝖉𝖗𝖔𝖕 𝖆 𝖌𝖎𝖗𝖑 𝖑𝖎𝖐𝖊 𝖞𝖔𝖚

ℭ𝔥𝔞𝔯𝔞𝔠𝔱𝔢𝔯; Alastor x reader, romatic

𝔑𝔬𝔱𝔢𝔰: I think we all agree that Alastor would say this phrase. Maybe I got too carried away, sorry if it's too long. Unedited

Carmilla waited for all the overlords to arrive and take their respective seats. Her silver eyes serenely observed the situation, while she prepared her probable monologue in her mind. A war would be one of the worst options to choose. They had already lost many souls since the last extermination, and losing even more would serve no purpose, except to amuse the angels. All the powerful demons sat down and Carmilla waited a few seconds for the various conversations between them to end, seeing that she got nothing waiting she coughed to get the attention of her companions. "I have gathered you here today to discuss this year's brutal extermination..." She began to explain, her eyes full of determination with a subtle light of hatred, which was directed towards the cruel exterminators up there.

Suddenly, the door opened with a loud bang and two shadows appeared; one taller than the other. The little fashionista Velvette, a member of the Vees, appeared first with a superior smile on her face. With her back stretched and chin held high, she pulled the metal chain around her hand, causing the other shadow to walk involuntarily. However, the big difference between the two demons was that one of them was walking with her head down, as if she had been defeated and humiliated in front of all Hell, as if she was going to be sacrificed. Carmilla scowled at Velvette which diverted the attention of the other overlords and they looked towards the fashionista. Y/N didn't look up, she had already felt too ridiculed on the way there to feel even more so under the gaze of the other overlords. Especially under his gaze, under that smile that conveyed no feelings at all.

"Speaking of the exterminators..." Velvette's distinctive accent echoed through the room, no overlord daring to speak. Anyone could cut the tension in that room with a butter knife. Y/N didn't even flinch at the confident sound of the voice, she was now as vulnerable as a puppy just abandoned on a highway. A few thumps accompanied the fashionista's small laugh, thumps that sounded too soft to be a blow from a fist but too hard to be a single piece of flesh. A golden drop landed on Y/N's slipper, she swallowed dryly, feeling closer and closer to the permanent presence of eternal death. Ironic, isn't it? A dead girl being afraid to die. She didn't hear the next sentences of the argument between the two overlords, she was too focused on the pain of the silver chains around her wrists behind her back. Never in eternity had she thought that being in hell she would burn, let's just say those holy chains silenced those thoughts for her.

Velvette needed only a single tug on the chain to smash Y/N's face into the long table in the living room. Her hand pressed her face against the hard material, it looked like she wanted to put her face through the table. Y/N's gaze jumped from overlord to overlord, she knew full well that none of them would help her. "She was the one who killed that flying rat." Velvette began. "If those...Things can die, we're in a whole different situation." She paused for a moment, "we could start a war..." She turned to look at Y/N, her gaze as callous as her actions. "Not without killing this bitch first, it wouldn't suit us well for a girl as normal as you to get all the fame, what would my fans say?" His voice became a bit sharper, clearly seeking more attention than he already had.

Y/N looked away, her eyes fell on a spot between the ceiling and the window of the room, she didn't want to see how the overlords looked at her as if she was a mere bug, which they had no intention of keeping alive. She noticed her vision blurring, she knew these would be her last moments, as Velvette kept her word whenever it would do her good. "Who's for killing her and dropping her body in the nearest trash? Right where she deserves." The room was filled with murmurs and different conversations, some agreed with the fashionista, while others did not. Y/N had stopped listening long ago, she had accepted her permanent death since Velvette found her near the angel's body. She hadn't done it, she was just being more noisy than she normally was, not everyone gets the chance to see a dead exterminator, no? It was just bad luck, she wasn't the culprit, "It wasn't me..." She whispered in an attempt to get someone to listen to her, but these were overlords we're talking about, they wouldn't hesitate to kill someone. That's how ambitious they could be to have more power in their hands.

The sound of radio static came on, which was getting closer and closer. The pressure on Y/N's head disappeared in less than a second, and for a moment she thought she had finally been killed and her thoughts were slowly leaving her head as she completely lost consciousness. However, one hand helped her up, and even with her hands still tied she met those red eyes she loved to stare into so often in the hotel. With the other hand, Alastor pushed Velvette away from her, "I'll take care of it."

The last thing to go. That demon Y/N thought she loved was going to betray her as soon as she left the building. She felt his hand brush against her back as he silently guided her through the halls of the building until he was outside. Once there he began to walk towards a particular direction. Y/N stopped in her tracks, confused. Maybe what she was about to say would be a big mistake, maybe she shouldn't say anything to stay alive, though curiosity killed the cat, right?

"You're not going to kill me? Kill me and then drop me in the middle of the street?" She watched as the Radio Demon's back tensed, and so did his ears. As much as she didn't see his face, she knew that smile twisted into an irritated one. He turned around slowly, and that annoyed smile softened the moment their eyes connected. He laughed softly and moved closer to the girl, his free hand coming to her cheek. "Only a fool would drop a girl like you." He smiled. That sentence made Y/N ironically feel like she was in heaven, a strange warmth rose to her cheeks. She heard the laughter of the overlord who was now offering his arm to walk beside him, "Alastor, my hands are chained." Y/N began, "I can't hold your arm."

#hazbin hotel headcanon #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel #alastor x reader

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vivalarevolution · 3 months

Text

𝓤𝓷𝓼𝓹𝓸𝓴𝓮𝓷 𝓕𝓮𝓮𝓵𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓼

Jacaerys Velaryon x Orphan Reader

Request: „Jacaerys , who grew up together with the Reader - whom Rhaenyra adopted and raised. Over time, their friendship changed, but since they never had the courage to admit their feelings, they gradually began to distance themselves from each other. When Jacaerys is promised to Baela, their relationship is no longer the same. They both blame each other for what happened and continue to minimize their interactions until their father promises her hand in marriage to someone else.‟

A/N: Request written by anon. A very interesting concept that I thoroughly enjoyed writing.

Please remember that english is not my native language, I do not use it on a daily basis, so mistakes can or will happen.

Work contains smut, so minors do not interact.

-Since she found out , she has not spoken a word to me…she hates me - the young prince lamented to his mother , Princess Rhaenyra , who watched him carefully , furrowing her eyebrows in consternation.

-You yourself said that you have hatred for her , why now your indifference to her has changed so drastically? - his mother remarked, looking for every single emotion that bubbled up inside him, wanting to understand what was hidden in the mind of her eldest son.

-I never hated her - he denied , closing his eyes and sighing heavily , frustrated -She is the one who hates me. She barely talks to me , and when she does it's as if ice falls out of her mouth instead of words.

-And why that bothers you now, my sweet boy? - Rhaenyra said softly, coming up to him and putting her hand on his shoulder - What happened that now , so suddenly, you crave her attention and acceptance?

Jacaerys was silent for a while, looking into the distance through the chamber window. Eventually he turned to his mother, his eyes filled with helplessness and anger , which slowly took control over his body.

He wanted to scream , he wanted to break everything within his reach and turn it into dust. But he did nothing and without a word , he walked away.

His steps were rapid , almost violent and hard. He walked through the corridors of Dragonstone as if the beast possessed his flesh , leaving behind a raw anger and tension that made the air heavier. And before he could chase away the fog that clouded his mind , he found himself in the chamber of his sister - Y/n Velaryon.

His dark eyes wandered involuntarily through the empty chamber , while his hands touched things that belonged to her. Stuck in an ocean of memories , he paused at the wooden desk, his fingers gliding over the material adorning the covers of old books , some closed , some open on pages , which she had read many times ,along with him , when they were still full of innocence.

He let himself remember , until his gaze rested on a piece of paper hidden between the pages. And before he could think about the subsequent consequences and implications , his hand uncover a letter , a letter regarding her...and the betrothal with Samwell Blackwood's son.

-Why are you here? - suddenly a female voice called out , a voice belonging to his younger sister , who was standing in the threshold of the chambers , looking at him , frowning her eyebrows.

-You can't marry him - he said , looking at her like an enraged animal, ignoring her question - You can't - he repeated, his body yet again being controlled by anger.

Her eyes rested on the paper , that was held by the young man in a disturbingly strong grip.

-How dare you tell me what to do? - she asked him , her voice dangerously cold -How dare you?!

-I dare to tell you what to do because I am your brother -he growled , clenching his hand into a fist , in which there was a letter.

-Brother? - she made an ironic sound - Our mother may have taken me under her care and raised me as her own, but that does not mean that you are my brother, no brother should be indifferent, cruel and cold as you are - she stated, and every word she spoke sounded like a sea of daggers that were cutting his body.

Jacaerys moved towards her, trapping her between the heavy wooden door and her own body.

-You talk about coldness and indifference? You are a hypocrite - he muttered, furrowing his thick eyebrows in annoyance - You are the one who destroyed the bond we once had. From the moment Baela was promised to me, you decided to destroy everything that was between us.

-If this is what you think - she scoffed, her eyes and voice devoid of emotions - If I make you so unhappy, you should be glad that I'm leaving for the Riverlands. You won't have to listen to me anymore, you won't have to see me.

-Do you truly think that's far enough? Do you think that there is a corner of this Earth that you could travel to far away enough to free me from this torment? - he muttered , looking into her siren eyes that seemed to draw him in.

They were both breathing harshly , words hanging heavy between them.

-What do you want me to do? - she whispered, feeling the air between them getting hotter -What do you want me to do to end your torment? - she asked , looking at him with misty eyes.

-I want you…to be mine - he replied - From the moment you let me touch your soft skin, from the moment you let me hear your voice, from the moment you let me admire your beautiful face I wanted you to be mine. Please dear sister , please let me be mine. Don't leave me, just be mine and I will be yours.

In response, the woman embraced his jaw with her warm palm and, moving closer to him, she let her full lips brush his.

-Nyke emagon va moriot issare aōhon Jacaerys (I have always been yours Jacaerys) - she confessed quietly , closing her eyes as his lips began to press against hers , desperate to feel her even closer , even more intensely.

Wet kisses spread over her lips , cheeks and jawline , leaving a trail of saliva behind. Jacaerys kissed her everywhere he could , marking her face with his mouth.

They were both needy , oh so needy. Every touch , every caress ,every whimper , every moan was more desperate than the last.

-Jaes ao yknagon sīr sȳz (Gods you smell so good) - he muttered , moving his nose along her neck , taking in the scent of the oils she sprinkled on her body and the sweat that had managed to appear on her skin through the heat she was in -Ao sylutegon sȳz tolī issa dōna mandia, sīr sȳz (You taste good too my sweet sister , so good) - he whispered in the hollow of her neck , licking and biting her pulse , while his long fingers , lazily hooked into the black fabric of her dress , letting it fall from her shoulders , revealing her firm , ample breasts.

-Oh Jacaerys - she mewled , embracing his head, entwining her fingertips between his wavy hair, pulling at its ends, drawing him closer to her -Don't stop…please don't stop touching me.

-Dōrī (Never) - he breathed out into her mouth , before he attacked her naked breasts , his tongue swirling around the hardened nipples , sucking them and tasting them with his tongue like a man starved.

Y/n moaned quietly , closing her eyes and surrendering to the feeling of a man's mouth on her skin and hands that sensually glided over her thighs , pulling the dark material up , revealing the material of her delicate undergarments.

-Jacaerys - she whimpered , watching as he sank to his knees in front of her.

-Will you let me taste you? - he asked , with rough fingers gliding along her smooth legs , stopping at her rounded hips , revealing her wet , swollen womanhood.

-Yes , yes , yes - she whispered , closing her eyes and tilting her head.

He was gentle and painfully slow, kissing and sucking her firm skin, leaving marks on her flesh as he got closer and closer to where she needed him the most.

She quickly fell into numbness. The amount of attention she was receiving seemed to overwhelm her body, but even so, she didn't want the moment to ever end, not with Jacaerys tormenting her womanhood in such an addictive way. She could compare him to a hungry animal , by the fact with what fervor he devoured her femininity, sampling every piece, not wanting to miss absolutely anything. She let the knot in her lower abdomen burst, spreading through her body the delightful and burning pleasure that was constantly coursing through her veins through the tongue of a man who refused to leave her, feasting on her even longer.

-Please let me feel you closer. I need you closer , closer than you have ever been - he groaned , embracing her frame , securing it in his strong arms and moving them so that he rested on the bed behind them, placing Y/n on his strong legs, immediately proceeding to attack her neck with slow kisses, while his hands crept to her throbbing entrance, which was waiting for him, embracing him tightly as he inserted two fingers into her, sensually moving them.

-Whatever you want , I'll give you whatever you want. But I beg you , don't make me wait my dear brother…I beg you. I need you as you need me…closer than we everwere - she whispered into his mouth , leaning her head towards his.

She moaned, wrapping her arms around his shoulders as Jacaerys removed his fingers from her tight canal , replacing them with his thick and veiny shaft that penetrated her gummy walls, making her hide her face in the hollow of his neck, moaning and panting as she felt her brother pushing inside her for the first time, kissing her cervix with his member, giving her incredible pleasure and pain that only increased her desire.

He tried to be gentle and slow, but the nails digging into his back, the melodious moans at his ear and the warmth of his sweet sister's body made him rough , almost violent , taking advantage of her trembling body , which seemed to melt into his.

-Ñuha jorrāelagon (My beloved) - Y/n whined , feeling the recently discovered pleasure grow in her lower abdomen, forming another knot ready to burst at any moment.

-Ivestragon nyke iksā ñuhon (Tell me you're mine) - the prince growled, thrusting into her harder, making her feel as if his manhood was deep in her belly.

-Iksan aōhon, iksan aōhon, mērī aōhon! (I'm yours, I'm yours, only yours!) - Y/n announced, grabbing his wavy curls, pulling them tight as an electrifying sensation went through her body, making her almost blind with pleasure.

-Arlī , ivestragon ziry arlī (Again , say it again) - he demanded, attacking her neck.

-Iksan aōhon (I am yours) - she repeated, bringing their foreheads together.

Yours. Yours. Yours.

After everything, she was finally his.

#house of the dragon #hotd #asoiaf #house targaryen #house of the dragon x reader #hotd x reader #hotd smut #house of the dragon smut #jacaerys velaryon x reader #jacaerys velaryon x reader smut #jacaerys velaryon x fem!reader #jacaerys velaryon smut #house velaryon #jacaerys velaryon #jacaerys x reader #house of the dragon fanfiction #my writing #jacaerys velaryon fanfiction

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solbaby7 · 7 months

Text

Make You Mine

pairing: azriel x reader

warnings: swearing, sexual tension, toxic relationships, possessive themes, violence, ( just a fuck ton of bad decisions babe, i can’t help it, live for a feral Az )

summary:

[ part one ]

—

Sometime after dinner, once the adrenaline and underlying excitement had quelled; you’d decided to keep Damien around. While proving to be generally horrible, he also perfectly filled the place of a pawn.

A pawn in a game that only you knew you were playing.

One that pushed the line of entirely too far when you showed up at training the following day with hickeys lining the length of your neck—the same place Azriel’s lips had pressed their kisses into at dinner. The same lips you’d pictured when Damien was putting them there, hands groping at your ass as he eased the hem of your black dress over your hips.

Azriel notices you the same time you spot Nesta, striding past the shadowsinger without a hint of acknowledgement but you could feel his eyes glued to the fit of your leathers. “I thought it wasn’t your place to be out here playing with swords?” Nesta drawls out, almost bored as her opponent shuffled out of the ring nursing a bruised jaw.

“If that’s the case, then show me where I belong, Lady Death.” You peer up at her and the five finger grip on her hip, practice sword held loose in her free hand.“Unless, you can’t?”

“I’m surprised you still have enough energy to bother,” Nesta gestures to her own neck and you subconsciously tug your shirt higher. “Long night?”

A slow grin grows at the corner of your mouth, hands bracing your weight to hoist yourself into the ring and briefly you all but preen when you feel the shadowsingers rage permeating the air. Toying with Azriel’s poor restraint never ended well but surely he wouldn’t actually kill anyone. Pride overwhelms common sense and you can feel the chill of his shadows slinking around the edges of the ring as if summoned; watching, listening. “Early morning.” Nesta’s grip tightens on the hilt of her practice sword with full intent of taking you up on your offer but when her lips part no words form.

Instead, she makes a noise, not quite a scoff but not exactly a hum either. “So, there is something decent about the company you keep after all.” You don’t take it offensively and you’re certain Nesta’s readying herself for more but it never comes. A brow raises, head tilting to the side but the silence makes sense when the towering figure behind you blocks the warm sun from bare shoulders.

“Actually,” The husky tone tickles the shell of your ear. “—you’ll be sparring with me today.”

“I’d rather not.”

Azriel’s hand curls around your arm, holding firm but not hard enough that you can’t break free if you tried—if you wanted to. You refuse his gaze, focusing on anything but him and his centuries of trained muscles stuffed beneath the fabric of his fighting leathers. He’d ditched the jacket, tunic too, both tossed in a heap near Cassian. Left in nothing but the sleeveless undershirt that leaves absolutely nothing to the imagination; broadcasting the sharp lines of his neck and the soft curls of inky tattoos that resided there. “You don’t get to make the decisions here anymore,” His free hand raises to cup your jaw, tilting your head to the side and he can’t fight his body’s natural reaction to snarl at the very thought of another man’s mouth on your skin. “Not when you keep proving that you make such poor choices.”

You jerk away from his grasp, twisting out of the grip on your arm and a foot smacks at the back of his knees. Finally looking at him—looking down at him, Azriel sees the fire in your eye; the hatred and anger. The betrayal at his hands and the person you had to become because of it. “You have no right to judge my choices.” It’s barely a whisper, concealing as much as you could with so many eyes watching—so many ears listening. “You mean nothing to me.”

“We both know that isn’t true.” Curse your body for reacting to his touch; warm hands sliding up to cup at your waist. The smell of him sinking into your nostrils and seducing every nerve like a walking aphrodisiac.

“I think I have feelings for Elain.”

The reminder snaps you back to reality, hand reaching out to smack him clear across his face. His eyes lower to slits, right cheek going red but you’re too pissed to even register the stinging pain in your palm. “Fine,” Azriel says too casually, jaw ticking with barely there restraint. “We can play this your way.”

It’s gone quiet save for the two of you, the others pausing their fighting to see the scene unfold, waiting to witness the spymaster make an example of you. Certainly, they must’ve forgotten that you’d been doing this since you were old enough to wield a sword; fighting males bigger than Azriel.

Fuck feelings when you had a point to prove.

“I’m not here to play with you, Az. I just want to fight.” It was a cheap shot; using the stupid little nickname to your advantage but his body always reacted so obediently to his name on your tongue. He’d just barely gotten back to his feet before you strike at him, throwing a quick succession of jabs his way in a style that he didn’t teach you.

Maybe all of those weeks away traveling the other courts after his confession had left marks that he hadn’t learned yet.

Something about you that Azriel didn’t know.

The very thought leaves him distracted a second longer than he’d have ever allowed if it was anyone else. He’s quick to recover, blocking and dodging, throwing hits of his own but eventually you grow tired of the refrained punches—the obviously subdued responses to your rage and it only adds more fuel to the fire. “If you aren’t even going to try and be a challenge then just yield so I can spar with Nesta like I planned.”

He hadn’t reached for his sword once, not a single finger twitched to grip at the daggers holstered at his hips and sure, hand-to-hand was fine but with Azriel it felt too close; too intimate. “Is that what you want?” He takes a step closer and immediately your face turns away from him, refusing to acknowledge him or that low tone he took with you and only you. “A challenge?”

“I don’t want anything from you.” Except to have been the first choice. One that he was sure in. Not second guessing if every special moment had only felt like that for you. “Not anymore.” The thought alone has your skin flushing with embarrassment, completely turning around to hide but Azriel just shifts to accommodate.

“You don’t mean that.” There’s worry etched in his brow, skewing the whole canvas of his face and it was like your soul wanted nothing more than to appease him. Battering and clawing at your bones, scrambling for the freedom soothe every line and give him everything he’d ever dreamed of and more.

“I want to.” Azriel watches the stone wall you put up, rounding up all that love and adoration, cradling at the sobbing affection that no longer had a place to call home. It takes everything in you to leave it all, to ignore the desire to toss aside better judgement and fall into the need. The softness in your eyes dies with the squaring of your shoulders as you retake your stance, regarding him as nothing more than one of the recruits. “Fight me or leave the ring—I don’t exactly have all day.”

For a moment, you think he’s going to leave. Forfeit and grant you a worthy opportunity but that is not the case.

You should’ve known better.

Azriel’s determination was a force to be reckoned with, skilled swipes of his sword followed by combat moves he only saved for the battlefield. A particularly rough strike is blocked but it still makes you stumble. “Is this challenge enough for you?” Azriel demands, swords interlocked, faces so close you could smell the minty scent of toothpaste on his breath. Golden eyes are piercing under the suns rays, barely concealing how impressed he truly was with the way you’d kept up. Swift and limber, light on your feet and efficient in every step taken but there’s a certain chaos to your moves—something fresh and unpredictable. “This right here,” The fight, the passion, the frantic thrum of your blood rushing in your ears from the pure adrenaline that erupted at the sight of him. “—is why we will never be over.” He’s not even breaking a sweat, syllables breaching perfectly kissable lips while looking like he belonged on a throne in the deepest chasms of Hel. “I know he doesn’t make you feel like this—not like I do.”

“Stop.” It takes more effort now; balancing keeping up that stone wall and maintaining your composure under his attacks. A deep breath to settle your thoughts and you completely drop your sword, effortlessly switching to something more hands on.

“Don’t you see that I can’t?” The restraint in his voice slips, a vein bulging in his neck and your fingers scream for you to reach out and trace it. “Not until you see that he will never be able to do for you what I can.” Azriel’s shadows swirl around your arms, clamping them close to your body as he pulls you into him—his chest on your back and those hands attempting to disarm you. Your breath hitches when you feel the trace of warm skin down the length of your holsters and the weapons fastened to them. A barely there that sends your body in a pure frenzy; one that demands all things Azriel until the end of time. “Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten what it felt like—you and me.” The stiff length of his cock pressed into the curve of your spine and it takes everything in you not to actually moan. “Just say the words and I’ll remind you. Right here in front of everyone if that’s what you wish.”

Do it. Your thoughts shout. Do it. You know you want to.

“I think I have feelings for Elain.”

Sharp jabs of your elbow to his abdomen. A hand that clamps down around the thick bulk of his arm and all that manly strength is used against him when he’s flipped right over your shoulder. Legs straddle at his waist, one blade shoved at his throat while the other pressed gently at his chest. “No, he doesn’t make me feel how you do.” You confess, breathless and your shoulders slump ever so slightly. “But, at least with him, I know I was his first choice. At least with him,” Your words shake and Azriel can’t handle the way you have to force the composure. “—I never have to worry about being second best.” The swords clatter to the ground, not bothering to retrieve them as you get back to your feet.

You’re nearly at the edge of the ring when he calls out, still on the ground and propped up on his elbows. “He doesn’t deserve you.”

“Neither do you, Az.”

#a court of thorns and roses #acotar x reader #acotar x you #acotar #azriel #acotar azriel #azriel x you #azriel fic #azriel fanfic #azriel angst #azriel shadowsinger #azriel acotar #azriel x reader #acotar fics #acotar series #acotar angst #acotar fic

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zooone · 1 month

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" OH, SATORU ?! "

in which ?! - gojo doesnt show up to an extremely important meeting, and you find him passed out on his desk. poor guy.

words ?! - 2.2k

warnings and content ?! - swearing, teacher!reader, gojo is pathetic, reader hates gojo in the beginning but she takes care of him after 🙂‍↕️

an ?! - someone said gojo wants to be a sugar baby cuz he just wants to be taken care of for once and i went insane. also requests r open so plz send some!!

masterlist ?!

satoru gojo,

satoru fucking gojo,

of course he wouldn't show up to the meeting that she was pestering him about for days. of course he wouldn't show up to the meeting that she stressed was probably the most important hour or two of his life. of course he would leave the seat next to her empty and completely embarrass her.

she made it extremely clear to him, even going so far as to make sure he didn't have any missions in that time slot. but even with the the reminders and the sticky notes she left on his desk, he still somehow managed to be a no-show.

"satoru, don't forget about the meeting in two days!"

"i'll be there, don't worry" a fucking lie now, "you gotta stop worrying so much."

her immediate thought was that he assumed the meeting was below him. that the almighty satoru gojo was just far too important for mandatory meetings. she was seething in her chair thinking of all the excuses satoru gojo could possibly make, and how she could argue about each and every one of them. throughout the meeting, she scribbled a few into her notebook, fingertips turning to a near white as she gripped her pen with such hatred.

and as she lurched herself through the door, bag nearly falling off her shoulders, she would stomp down the hallway. her fists clenched and her shoulders to her earlobes.

as she spotted his classroom, she noticed that his classroom's lights were still on. and a million other thoughts fueled her angered mind, making her eyebrows clench. he skipped on a crucial meeting just to hang out in his classroom?

clicks and clacks of her heels echoed throughout, and she hoped satoru could hear it as a warning.

satoru gojo, however, could not hear it,

as he was face down against his desk, drool dripping onto the wood. his blindfold was halfway off, making for a nice barrier between the hard desk and his forehead. a pen laid between his fingers, along with the papers under him.

"satoru! you're-" she yelled, before stumbling back a bit and covering her mouth. she gazed her eyes upon his sleeping figure (half surprised that he was a being who was able to sleep), and she sighed softly. "satoru?"

more clicks of her heels as she walked in front of his desk, examining the full scene. he was in the middle of lesson planning, his messy chicken scratch all over a spare piece of paper. he was practically the only one who could understand his notes. but he preferred it that way. it felt more personal.

although his snowy hair covered his face, she could see the tips of his ears as they were a slight reddish tone. and as if on instinct, she sighed out a soft, "oh satoru."

her eyebrows furrowed even more now, however not due to anger but due to pity. she frowned, looking around the room. crumpled up balls of paper scattered around the classroom, of course accompanied by unsharpened pencils and erasers with poked holes in them.

on satoru's desk was a small schedule or to-do list, and it looked like he had to report a million different missions. he's been on so many lately with the recent influx of curses, and it didn't register in her head how tiring it must've been. after all, satoru came to work everyday with a smile on his face and a joke on his lips. he was always so happy. this was a completely different side of him. it made her frown.

she decided she would help, starting with picking up miscellaneous items from the ground. her heels had been removed at this point in order to keep the noise to a minimum.

but the plan was ruined,

the moment she got up from practically crawling on the floor, her head clashed with a nearby desk. it caused a loud thud to echo around the classroom, followed by her faint "ouch."

"hey!" and satoru sprung his head up, blindfold covering one eye and spit running down his chin. his voice was raw and raspy. it had a sort of weak undertone. but weak and gojo couldn't possibly be in the same sentence. "hey - put - putit down - i got- it-"

he was delirious.

"satoru - oh - go back to sleep -" she spoke, voice adjacent to that of a mother. it had the tenderness yet urgency that reminded satoru of his youth.

"y- y'can't tell me what to do!" his mouth barely opened as he laid back in his chair with his head thrown back. a soft groan escaped his dry lips.

"satoru-" she got up, one hand holding the painful sting on her head, the other reaching out for the man in front of her. "gosh, you're burning up, satoru -"

"no - no 'm not - im fine -" he tried to swat her hand away with a weak gesture, but ultimately it failed. his eyelids felt like they were too heavy, even for the strongest sorcerer of the modern day. "'m not sick-"

"you are," the corners of her mouth bent downwards. "i think you're overworking yourself."

his ivory lashes fluttered open slightly, squinting at the sudden light that met his cerulean eyes. "no- 'm just fine -"

"how much sleep have you been getting?" now she really sounded like a mom.

"ten hours!" satoru whined, trying to put his blindfold back on. "heheh. just kiddin'."

"satoru-"

"free hours. maybe. sorta." even his chuckle was raspy. a good chug of water would feel like heaven to him. "six eyes 're tellin' me you're worried. i - i told'ya ta stop worrying-"

even through a delirious fever and a couple hours of sleep, he was the one trying to put the spotlight on her. it made a sinking feeling in her stomach, one that made her bottom lip stick out.

"three hours is not good, satoru. especially with your technique and all -"

"i've got rct-" he whined, his arm resting over his blindfolded eyes. his pen was still in his hand, and a mere twitch would cause it to hit the floor. "im not in highschool anymore, 's okay - im- the strongest-"

she didn't want to argue back at an incoherent satoru, so she just continued to pick up items from the ground. but satoru, even with his blindfold and arm over his eyes, noticed her doing so.

"h-hey - hey, stop-" he pouted, a small cough following. "don't do that-"

"im just trying to help you, satoru." she gently spoke, like she was hushing a child. there was dust and gunk all over her fingertips. he definitely hadn't cleaned up in a while.

satoru nervously chuckled, using weak and shaky hands to unbutton his uniform. "heh, is it hot in here or 're you just happy to - see me?"

"that's- not how it goes," she scrunched her eyebrows at him, watching as he struggled to fiddle with his buttons. "let me help you."

she expected him go start whining and arguing again, but he didn't. without words, he let her slowly take care of the buttons of his uniform. the silence could be pierced with one of the dull pencils on the ground. his body heat radiated onto her fingertips, making her palms slightly sweaty.

by now, his blindfold was loose and falling off his face, and she could catch a glimpse of his feverish grin through her peripherals. thankfully, he had a thin tank top on underneath his uniform.

her touch stayed gentle as she removed the sleeves, her nails grazing upon his biceps. his laugh was small and whimpery. "hey, that tickles."

"s-sorry," she stammered, gulping down a bit of her saliva. his arms were hard as a rock, even when he was relaxed, and it didn't help that his skin was burning hot. literally, and figuratively. she noticed some faint, almost translucent hairs on his arm.

"'s okay. its nice." he rasped, his head tilting slightly. "you're nice."

"thank you. i just want to help you." and his uniform top was finally off. he let out a groan as the colder air stung his searing skin, and she noticed his abs clenching underneath his thin tank top. "better now?"

"mhm," he responded, his delirious smirk turned into a toothy grin. "y'might get sick if - if you stay 'round me."

"that's okay." she let out a shallow breath. her top priority was him at the moment, so she wasn't thinking about the busy days ahead of her. "don't you have a spare room here?"

"the floor above." he wiped his lidded eyes, an idle pout still on his lips. she couldn't believe that the same man who always had color on his face and a honeyed voice was here now like this. she felt like she should've seen the signs coming. "i shouldn't sleep i have - i have to lesson plan -"

"you're going to sleep, satoru." she said sternly, yet with a soft edge to her tone. "c'mon, get up."

"ugh, don't t-tell me what ta do-" he groaned, but he still stood up. his tall figure wobbled as he felt his blood rush. his joints fell weak, like he wasn't supposed to be even standing up. he collapsed against her, body weight and heat pressing up against her.

she was strong, there was no denying how she fought during missions, but him falling onto her caught her off guard. he sandwiched her between himself and the chalkboard, exerting a yelp from her throat.

"woah, i got you -" she grunted, pushing him upright. "i got you, satoru."

"'m tired." was all he could muster from his lips. "so tired."

"i know, i know, its okay." she whispered. he was more straightened out now, but he still leaned slightly towards her. she put his arm around her shoulder to help him walk adequately. "we're gonna take you to your room, okay?"

he hummed a response, eyes drooping again. his feet were practically dragging behind them, but she was able to guide him properly through the hallway.

"careful, we're turning," she would warn everytime there was an abrupt shift in the hallway. and he would just groan softly to show that he was still alive.

by now, she was sweating. the exertion of his warm skin rubbing up against hers made such a friction, not to mention the fact that she was basically carrying the taller man. but it felt good. it felt right.

once they reached his room, she fumbled around his pockets to get his keys. he groaned low in his chest, almost sounding like a purrr, as he felt her touch through his pants.

she recognized the layout to be similar to the student dorms, and she was able to locate his bedroom easily. of course, not without examining his place. the walls were surprisingly bare for his colorful personality. the big fake plant in the corner was the only noticeable thing about the whole living room. however, it was too dim to see.

she set him down onto his bed (and of course, his sheets were blue) and laid his soft blanket on top of him. he looked like he went back to sleep within two seconds, but as she was halfway through his doorway, he heard him and his blanket stir.

“stay,” he whispered over the decently loud ac. but she could still hear the desperation in his voice.

“oh,” she turned around, seeing his blue eyes barely open from underneath snowy lashes. “i was gonna go back to your classroom to clean up more-”

“stay, please.”

she let out a shallow sigh through downturned lips. she stared at the strongest sorcerer as he scooted over in his bed, allowing her room to lay. her heart stung a little bit at the sight, the dryness in her throat just adding to the sensations she felt.

“i have spare clothes you can borrow,” he frowned, lazily gesturing to his large closet. “they’re comfy.”

it was clear he was trying to use anything to convince her to stay, despite him being worried about her health. even if it was selfishly, he just wanted her near.

a small smile laid on his chapped lips when she went into his closet, picking out a t-shirt of his and going into the bathroom. through the white door, he could hear her softly humming to herself, and it felt like a lullaby to his reddened ears.

his gaze softened when he saw her, despite the piercing bathroom light. she just looked so beautiful. he knew that, of course, he’s known ever since they first met. but when she had her hair up in a bun and his shirt draped over her shoulders, she looked like a goddess. he would’ve said so even without his feverish state. she was just so perfect to him.

she walked over to the other side of his bed, flopping herself down. she didn’t realize how much her muscles ached until her body met the soft mattress. all of their surroundings smelled like him, a minty sort of scent flooding her nose. he was about to doze off again, back flattened against his sheets, but she scooted over and hugged him. the blanket plus his body heat was enough to make her start sweating again, but she still wiggled up against him. her fingers were idly tracing shapes on his chest while she continued to hum.

“thank you,” he whispered, voice crackling so much she nearly missed his words. he snaked his large hand to her back, pulling her impossibly close. it felt so intimate that small tears began to prod behind his eyelids.

“you’re welcome, satoru.” she responded, her tone still gentle. “goodnight.”

8.9.24

masterlist ?!

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annievrse · 11 months

Text

skirt

satoru x reader —ᡣ𐭩 blurb c/w: reader wears a skirt, best friend gojo, everybody's in their early twenties (pretending nobody died or went astray, so suguru + haibara are here!!))

"When are the boys getting here?" Utahime asks, smoothing out one of the picnic blankets on the sand.

Shoko throws you a look, one you hate, and you check your phone. Your messages with Satoru are a mix of flirting and faux hatred shared between best friends. "5 minutes."

"Okay," Utahime mumbles, standing on the blanket. "I'll go get the extra snacks from the car."

And then she's gone, walking up the sand. The night is quiet, the only sound being the crackling of the bonfire a few feet down the beach.

"You know he's gonna freak out, right?"

You jump at the deadpan words of Shoko, and you turn toward her. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

Your friend rolls her eyes and gestures to your outfit. "You know exactly what I'm saying. Gojo's gonna lose it."

With hot cheeks, you look down at your mini skirt. I mean, yeah, it's rare for you to wear such an item of clothing in the Jujutsu world, but you didn't think of it as such a big deal (you did).

Shrugging smugly, you place your drink in the cupholder of the camp chair. "Not like I planned to wear this since we made these plans."

But Shoko catches the smirk on your face and laughs. "Yeah, okay."

"Hey!" Haibara yells from the carpark. You and Shoko turn to see the boys making their way down the sand, Utamine in between Suguru and Nanami with bags of chips in her arms.

"Hide me," You giggle, grabbing Shoko by the shoulders to force her in front of you.

"You're joking," She whispers, rolling her eyes.

"Can you believe the nerve of these guys?" Utahime grumbles. "They had the great idea to get fast food instead of eating our prepared food!"

Shoko moves to lecture Suguru, who's holding a large paper cup in his hand, and soon rips into the other two. Satoru, however, pays no mind to her ranting.

As soon as his eyes land on you, he's looking at the sky and cursing under his breath. The glow of the bonfire on his face makes his hair orange, which makes you smile while you give him a twirl.

His strides are long as he stalks toward you, hands full of takeout. Your palms rest on his cheeks, and he refuses to look down, his sunglasses on the bridge of his nose and gaze on your lips pulled into a smile.

“Can I just kiss you right here?”

You throw your head back in laughter. "No!"

Satoru groans and looks down at your legs where the skirt ends. “You’re gonna fucking kill me.”

“Good. Might save Shoko from a heart attack.”

“When you two are done, we'd love to start eating,” Nanami calls, eyes narrowed at you.

"Hold on, Negative Nancy," Satoru chirped. "I'm admiring the love of my life."

Shoko scoffs and groans. "Make her your girlfriend before you start yapping."

Satoru shrugs one shoulder, hands hovering at your sides. You roll your lips between your teeth, legs shaky and heart pounding.

"Okay! I'm hungry, I'm eating," Suguru says, the rustling of paper bags following his sentence.

At the sound, the rest of the group start unpacking their dinner, choosing to ignore you.

Satoru sighs, moving his takeout bag to a spare finger on the hand holding his cup.

"Come on," He whispers, his hand low on your back. "Sit with me. I wanna get a better look at you."

#satoru gojo #jujutsu kaisen #satoru x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojou satoru x reader #gojo x reader #gojo satoru #jjk imagines #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen imagines #best friend satoru #— ann writes!

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utterlyotterlyx · 6 months

Text

Worthy

Azriel x Fem!Reader

Summary - After a hard day, all you need is your mate to tell you that everything is going to be okay.

Warnings - angst, self hatred, self doubt, blood, brief details of childbirth, death, fluff

For my lovely @thisiskaylin - hope this makes you feel better x

Blood.

There was blood everywhere. All over your hands, spatters on your face and neck, it clung to you like a disease.

It was meant to be worth it.

One more push, you would tell them. One more push and you get to see your beautiful baby. Just one more and it'll all be over and you can go home and raise your perfect little baby.

Just one more push.

The child wriggled in your arms, you had bundled the winged babe up in grey blanket, protecting him from the scene in front of him. A non-Illyrian woman lay before you unmoving, tears rolling down her face, fingers outstretched toward you with a vacant look in her eye. And there was blood everywhere.

Amalia had been one of your favourite patients in your career, full of life and wonder, kind and sweet and soft, she was made to be a mother. Every visit had been so positive, you had no reason to believe that she wouldn't make it. Amalia was strong and healthy, she should have made it. You had promised her it would all be alright.

But blood at pooled at her thighs, staining her cream coloured birthing gown, she had gone pale and sweaty and her lips had turned blue. The rapid rise and fall of her chest confirmed it, that she wasn't going to make it, and there was nothing your healing hands could do to stop it.

"Please. Let me see him," she had rasped to you and you sat beside her, lowering her babe to her face and letting her shaky fingers tug down at the neck of the bundle to see his face. "So beautiful."

Tears pricked your eyes, "You did so well, Amalia."

Amalia peered up at you, her icy blue eyes softening at your face, she had always called you an angel, "I did?"

Choking back tears, you ran your fingers through her lifeless blonde waves, a comforting gesture, to let her know she wasn't alone, "So well," you confirmed, "You have to name him."

"A name," her voice was fleeting, drifting away into the wind, carried by the coaxing breeze floating through the slightly ajar window, "Amias. Eternal love."

"Amias," you turned you gaze to the bubbling boy in your arms and smiled, brushing your fingers against his full cheeks, "It's perfect, Amalia. It's-" but you couldn't finish your sentence, not when you turned back to her and saw nothing, no rise and fall of her chest, just vacant tearful eyes and pale sweaty skin.

It was always a danger you had faced, losing a mother to the complications that came with bearing an Illyrian child, a thing you knew all too well from birthing Nyx. It was your specialised field of mastery, the birthing of Illyrian babes, you had saved many that would not have stood a chance without you. You were a miracle to them, even the males at Windhaven had come to treat you with kindness, it wasn't often that they were thought of, and you made them feel cared for.

The room was solemn. The team of midwives that accompanied you to all of the births you attended worked slowly and respectfully, draping the thin cloth of her bed sheet over her face after washing her skin softly with lavender soaped sponges all whilst you rocked and cooed the innocent motherless child into slumber. Handing the small thing over to one of your midwives, you sniffled, you went to wipe your face with your sleeve but froze when you saw the blood trailing up your arms and let out a small sob in response.

There was only one thing, one person, that would be able to fix you.

Windhaven was a place that Azriel hated you going to.

There was no doubt in his mind that you were the most extraordinary thing on the planet, but sometimes he wished that you had chosen a different specialty in your healing career. One that didn't make you feel so small, one that made you happy.

He knew something had gone wrong when he had sent a questioning love down the bond for it only to collide with a rock solid wall of iron clad fury. The bond only went silent when something was wrong. Every patient of yours was a friend, it was hard for people not to adore you, so it hurt you more when they left the world.

Footsteps scuffed up the pavement outside of your shared home and Azriel heard you sigh deeply before the handle turned and you stepped in.

The room was as it always was. Books, some medical and some historical, splayed across the coffee table, a fire dancing at the forefront of the room cascading the space in a golden glow, and two mugs of tea, one of which had long since had gone cold, on the side tables by your assigned spaces on the deep cobalt love seat.

Azriel scanned you for but a second before throwing his body over the edge of the seat and rushing to you. There was blood coating you, from your skirt up to your hair, your eyes were shocked and vacant, your lips were chapped and your cheeks were red and puffy. You had been crying.

Being no stranger to blood, Azriel took your hands in his and lifted them to his chest so that you could feel his heartbeat, so that you could centre yourself and bring your consciousness back to the land of the living. Then your gaze turned to him and your chest dropped, and Azriel knew what had happened, "Amalia?"

Shaking your head, you choked, "She didn't make it," tears pooled in your eyes and your face crumpled, "I promised her that she'd make it. There was no reason why she shouldn't have. I've been doing so well with the prenatal visits and the vitamins and the tonics, and she just," a sob broke through, "She just died."

Azriel ran his hands down the side of your face and continued to listen to your words, "What kind of healer am I if I can't save a woman, my friend, from the risks of childbirth? The risks I have dedicated my career to avoid? I've left a child without a mother, Az," you peered up at him, tears streaking down your face, collecting blood on their descent, "I'm a monster."

Unknowingly, you opened your side of the bond, and Azriel was flooded with your grief and anguish, your self loathing and doubt, and your all-consuming worthlessness, "Look at me, y/n. Look at me," he pulled your focus and smiled softly at you.

Azriel adored everything about you, but more than anything, he adored your kind soul and caring heart. You were the most magnificent thing he had ever come across.

The bond had snapped for him when he had been badly injured and Rhys had stormed into your little apartment above the pharmacy with Azriel strung over his shoulder. Despite your messy hair and askew nightgown, you worked endlessly to bring Azriel back from the brink, he truly believed he had entered heaven that day and that you were the one to guide him to the light.

He didn't realise that heaven could exist on earth until he met you.

It had taken months for you to release the bond between you, you were a busy thing, always researching and working on ways to save people from some of the most unavoidable events of life. One being childbirth. But during one certain sunset, when the sun was low and the sky was painted in pink and gold, did you feel that golden thread snap into place. Since then, you had been inseparable. He was your rock, the only one who could smash your soul into pieces and the only one who could put you back together, and you were his sunshine and rain, the only one who could cause him any real pain, but the only one who could clear his darkness and bring him into the light.

"None of the women you have saved would have stood a chance without you," blood covered your face like dirt, dusting but prominent, and your eyes were brimming with exhaustion, "I know it's hard, and that you feel worthless and like you're failing. But none of the women in this court could have survived without you, you are an angel, you have saved so many mothers and children that our study is bursting with gifts and flowers," you strained a smile, "I know that Amalia was your friend, I'm so sorry that you lost her, I know how much you wanted her to live."

"As much as we want to, we can't save everyone, y/n. All we can do is seek to save the next, to give another person a chance of a full beautiful life just like ours."

The obsession of non-Illyrian mothers had grown since you had accepted the bond with Azriel, you had never directly voiced why, but he knew you were trying to find a way for yourself to survive if the time ever came when you would carry his child. It was heart breaking to see it, to see you lose a patient and feel your own soul hang in the balance. It was heart breaking to know that you saw yourself as Amalia, broken and bloody and alone.

It had always been something you had wanted with him, a child of your own, with little black wings and shadows curling around him just like Az's. But you also wanted to live to see him grow. You weren't an Illyrian, which meant that you too were at risk of facing the same fate as Amalia's.

The fear in your eyes broke him.

"You are so worthy, so talented and determined that you put all of us to shame. You are the light of the Night Court, I'm just lucky that I get to bask in it daily. No wonder everyone is jealous that I get to call you my mate," a soft grin formed on his lips at your whispering giggle and he took your face in his hands, allowing his shadows to curl around your forearms and sooth the raging sadness within you, "I love you, y/n. I'm in awe of you every day. It's not easy to do what you do, to fall in love with the idea of saving people and breaking when the Mother decides to take one away. But it doesn't make you any less worthy or loved. You were put on this earth for a reason, to save people, and you will continue to do that because you are y/n, and you are my mate, and you wouldn't be you if you didn't. You save me everyday and you don't even know it."

The room had grown lighter, and the all-consuming anguish that had flowed down the bond had shifted, "Thank you," your eyes flickered across his face and your shoulders dropped.

Azriel tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear and sighed, taking you in his arms and holding you tightly against his chest, "Let's get you in a bath, hm?" he pulled away and looked down on you, tilting his head and drinking in your radiant beauty despite the sadness and stains on your skin, "Then I'm going to brush your hair and hold you and kiss you until you fall asleep, and then tomorrow, you save another life."

Nodding, you exhaled shakily, pulling him back to you as he went to lead you to the bathroom upstairs, no doubt to the already full tub that was big enough for both of you, he gazed at you in question, with a furrowed brow and fingers interlinked with your own, "I love you, you know that, don't you?"

The desperation in his voice made him want to scoop you up in his arms and show you exactly how much he adored you, but you were hurting, and you needed him in a wholly different way, "I know. I love you too. So much. Let's go and soak okay? I'll tell you who Nyx said was his favourite..."

Light beamed in your eyes and you wilfully allowed your body to be pulled by Azriel's grip, "If it's Cassian, I will riot."

The rest of the evening was spent in his arms, his fingers massaging your scalp and shoulders, wrapping around you and his lips pressing into the curve of your shoulder. Azriel brushed your hair, his touch so gentle and his shadows peppering their love for you across your face. And as you drifted into slumber, the symphony of your dreams were set by Azriel's voice, a low and sultry sound, reading to you, his fingers running through your hair and lips pressing into your hair line.

Not once did he take his hands off of you. Not once did he stop muttering how loved you were. And you knew that as long as he was by your side, you were invincible.

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obsessedelusional · 2 years

Text

Your Pretend Boyfriend

paring ✦ Eddie Munson x reader

summary ✦ You back from college, visiting during thanksgiving break. Jason Carver has always liked you the feelings not mutual. So when you catch him harassing Eddie you pretend to be his girlfriend. What happens with your pretend boyfriend? CONTAINS SMUT

word count ✦ 3,200ish

authors note ✦ BRO I’m almost to 300 followers and 5000+ likes omg y’all are tooooo sweeet to me hope y’all enjoy this

masterlist ✦ PART TWO

FEEDBACK AND REBLOGS APPRECIATED!!!

⊹ ꙳ ✦ ⁺ ‧ ⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹

The sound of your someone calling for you takes your gaze away from your phone. Looking up expecting to see your best friend. The two of you had plans to meet at this restaurant to catch up. You were in town visiting during thanksgiving break.

To your dissatisfaction it’s none other than Jason Carver. You groan annoyed knowing where this was headed. You’re parents were close and they always rooted for the two of you to end up together. Not a single part of you wanted anything to do with him. He was a few years younger than you. Also the worst human being on planet earth.

“You visiting for break?” He smiles leaning on the wall where you’re standing.

“Yup.” You say with no emotions, giving your full attention on your phone. Not wanting to give him the satisfaction of giving him any attention.

“What brings you here?”

“Meeting someone.” You answer eyes still on your phone, scrolling on something random. Pretending to be busy.

“Who?” He ask curiously.

“Can we skip to the part where you say something nasty, I tell you to fuck off and then you leave me alone?” You spit out, disregarding his previous question.

“We should hookup while your in town, give you some good ol dickin’ down. I’m sure those college boys can’t fuck you like I would.” There it is.

“For the millionth time that will never happen.” You respond, desperately waiting for your friend to arrive.

“Sheesh have you’ve always been such a bitch?” He laughs. When you don’t respond Jason walks off deflated.

You pray that is the end of that. Only for him to find his next victim. A curly headed boy you definitely remember, Eddie. It’d be hard to forget someone like him. Jason hated him, for whatever reason which made you gravitate towards him. You two were never all that close only exchanging hellos in the hallways. Occasionally bonding over your hatred of Jason. More than once telling Jason to leave their group alone.

Just as your deep in thought, thinking about Munson your phone dings. It’s the friend you were waiting for, she’s canceling on you. Her two year olds sick and can’t make it. You sigh out loud annoyed but understanding, typing a quick response.

You’re attention goes back to Eddie and Jason. Eddie was sat by himself, probably waiting for someone. Jason is giving him shit for being at a restaurant all by himself. It crosses your mind for a second and before you can realize how bad this idea is your on your way to Eddie’s table.

“Hey babe,” You smile greeting Eddie, confusion immediately spreads across his face. You mouth ‘just go along with it’ as you sit down next to him, careful so Jason doesn’t see. You plant a small kiss on his cheek, his confusion turns to a grin.

“Hey princess,” His arm slings around your shoulder. The pet name sends a heat through your body, you quickly push that away. You look up to Jason who’s slack-jawed.

“There’s no fucking way.” He whines.

“What?” You ask playing dumb.

“There’s no fucking way you two are dating.” Jason responds.

“We’ve been dating for six months, right babe?” You ask nuzzling yourself deeper into Eddie’s embrace.

“Almost seven.” He smiles, proudly.

“We actually have you to thank for that. Bumped into each other, bonded over our dislike for you. Been inseparable since.” You laugh because Jason looks pissed making this so worth it. He goes to speak but can’t get anything out, obviously frustrated.

“We’re gonna have a quick little lunch. Then head back to his place so he can give a good ol dickn’ down. That’s what you called it right?” You watch as Jason’s eyes go wide, full of pure disgust before running out of the restaurant. Once he’s out of hearing range you start erupting out in laughter, Eddie joining you.

“That was amazing. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him so speechless.” Eddie talks catching his breath from laughing so hard.

“I can’t stand him. He’s been up my ass for as long as I can remember. Saw the opportunity and took it.” You respond, looking over to Eddie’s who’s arm still rests on your shoulder. He notices you noticing and pulls away.

“You don’t have an actual girlfriend right? Otherwise this’d be kinda awkward.” You ask.

“Yeah actually I do.” Unknowingly your face falls, upset that he does.

“We met six months ago been inseparable since.” He teases, you roll your eyes realizing what he means. A silence falls over you two and you can’t help but feel like you’ve overstayed your welcome.

“I’ll leave you be. Thanks for participating in my antics.” You smile standing up from the table.

“I just got myself a girlfriend I ain’t letting you so quick.” You turn to face Eddie.

“We’ve been dating for all of five minutes and it’s the best relationship I’ve ever had.” He smiles, motioning for you to sit back down. Your intrigued so you sit down, this time on the other side of the booth.

“Are you sure? Someone’s not gonna show up and be upset I’m here?” You ask, seriously not wanting to impose.

“Don’t worry about it. Plans canceled.” He shoots you a smile before pulling his phone out, typing away for a moment.

“You really don’t have to do that.”

“Hang out with my beautiful older college girlfriend? Whom I only see during school breaks. Or hangout with my friends I see everyday at school? Uhhhh I think I’ll choose my girlfriend.” His words bring a cheesy grin to your lips.

“Okay I guess I can stay and enjoy lunch with my boyfriend.” You sigh, pretending like it’s an inconvenience for you. In reality your happy, your plans fell through and now your sat across from a long haired tatted hottie.

“How old are you? Not trying to catch a case.” You tease almost positive he’s of legal age. Better safe then sorry.

“19.” He responds between laughing at your joke.

—

Lunch with Eddie was amazing, part of you grateful your friend canceled on you last minute. You feel an instant connection, not wanting the date to end quite yet. The two of you are walking out of the restaurant, hand in hand. Your brain scrambling for an excuse to prolong this date.

“So what was that comment you made about a good ol dickin’ down about?” Eddie asks and almost immediately it’s like a light bulb goes off your head.

“Jason’s been trying to make the moves on me since forever. Just before I joined my boyfriend our date he offered to do that me.” You laugh, you’re not sure where you two are headed just following Eddie’s lead.

“You and Jason, you never?”

“Never ever.”

“That’s crazy. I remember rumors went around about the two of you dating all the time.” He says, processing this new information. Jason Carver wanted you yet you were her with Eddie. He was excited by that thought but at the same time puzzled.

“Started by him. He made my high school experience hell.” You admit.

“Same here.” He sighs, you two reaching his van. Realizing this is where the date either continues or ends.

“Should we keep our story going?” You ask. Noticing Jason sat in his car with his friends, he’s watching the two of you. If he wants to watch, you’d give him a show. Mostly for own selfish desires.

“What?” He asks so you nod in the direction of Jason car full of jocks, watching Eddie’s gaze move from you to them.

“I told Jason we’d have a little lunch and then go your place where’d you give me a good ol dickin’ down.” You cringe at the usage of Jason’s phrase. Eddie’s attention whips back to you because of the words coming from your mouth.

“Gotta make it believable, right?”

“Yeah.” He says. Eddie is hesitant not because he doesn’t want to but because he can’t tell if you’re being sarcastic. You push him towards his van, his back hitting it makes a loud thud. If they weren’t looking they are now.

You get closer, closing the gap between you two. Reaching for his hair, running your fingers through it. You had been wanting to do this since you sat at his table. Wishing he’d call you princess again.

“Is this okay?” You ask to which Eddie nods eagerly. Without missing a beat you kiss him. Softly at first, testing the waters. Eddie melts into your touch, his hand reaching around sliding his hands in your butt pockets. He pulls you closer into him, squeezing your ass in the process. Causing you to let out a little gasp surprised by his bravery. He smiles mid kiss only making you want more. The kisses becoming more aggressive, the wetness starting to pool in your panties.

“Get a fucking room, freaks!” Jason yells and then the sound of tires screeching past you two startles you momentarily. You pull away, grinning. Eddie’s eyes are closed, the biggest smile on his face.

“Still don’t think it’s believable enough.” You say, sighing your tone suggestive.

“Really?” Eddie asks, sounding confused.

You roll your eyes, “Your beautiful older college girlfriend wants a good ol dickn’ down.”

“You.. want me to-” He stutters, stopping before you finish for him.

“I want you to fuck me.” His dick twitches in his jeans because of the six words that came out of your mouth.

“Do you want that?” You ask.

“Yes.” He gulps, excited for what’s coming. Hopefully him soon. He opens the car door for you, you climb inside disregarding the fact that you drove yourself here. Your horny brain fogging your mind deciding in the moment you’d figure it out later.

This wasn’t like you, you never hooked up with someone so shortly after getting to know them. You couldn’t help but feel like something about this situation was different. Eddie was different, like a good different.

It’s a very short but also painfully long drive to his home. Eddie’s never been so thankful for his uncle to be out of town, couldn’t of picked a better time to leave him home alone. The drive is mostly silent, filled with music and stealing glances at each other.

As soon as Eddie parks at his home he’s out of the car running to your door, letting you out. He grabs your hand leading you to the front door. Where he struggles for a few moments to find the right key. Once inside, he shuts the door behind you before facing you. His hands press firmly on your ass to lift you, your legs straddling his body. This time he’s the one to initiate the kiss, carrying you to wherever. You didn’t care as long as Eddie was there.

For a moment your startled when he drops you on his bed. Your allowed a quick glance around his room, taking it in before you look up to see Eddie. He’s shirtless now and his shoes are missing. So you follows in his steps ripping your shoes off. When you go to take your shirt off he stops you with a intense kiss before doing it himself, then unhooks you bra exposing your bare chest.

He pulls away to take in the view, “Fuck you’re beautiful.”

Eddie smashes his lips on yours pushing you back into the bed before kissing down you neck only to stop at your nipple. The sensation is enough for you to let out a sweet moan slightly arching you back into him. Mouth still attached to you while his hands are busy unbuttoning your pants, pulling them down quickly along with your panties.

You curse your self for not wearing something sexier but you had no idea this where’d you be today. Part of you embarrassed you haven’t shaved in a while. Your worries are immediately put at ease when he spreads your thighs, letting his head rest between them.

“Beautiful.” Her murmurs before placing a sugary kiss on your clit, sending a shockwave through your body. His tongue begins rubbing against your bud. Without thinking your hands find his hair, pushing him deeper between your folds. Your head falls back, moans leaving you lips. When you think it can’t get any better, he slips a long strong finger in your pussy. Pumping into you the same pace as his tongue that is still toying with your clit.

“More please-“ You whine and Eddie listens adding another finger, stretching you out. Your a mess under his touch. Never once has a man prioritized your pleasure. You’ve become masterful at giving yourself orgasms. The feeling of it being at the hands of someone else unfamiliar. A good unfamiliarity.

“Fuckk- Eddie I’m..” Your words turn into strangled moans, a tightness growing in your stomach. Your breath hitches as you pulsate on his thick fingers, your eyes rolling back as you come undone. Your busy riding out your high but the feeling of his fingers leaving you brings you back down to reality. His laps up your juices one last time before speaking.

“Mm so sweet.” Eddie purrs sucking on his own two fingers that were covered in your juices. They leave his mouth with a popping sound as he sits up in the bed.

“My turn.” You say barley audible sitting up reaching for the button on his jeans. Wanting nothing more than to wrap your lips around his cock. He stops your hands causing you to look up to Eddie, you cant help but pout.

“I don’t think I’ll last long with your pretty lips sucking me off right now. Next time, okay?” You nod smiling at the thought there’d be a next time. Eddie kisses you pushing your head back onto the bed. Only pulling away to pull his pants off and grab a condom from his bed side table. You watch intently as his pulls down his boxers, revealing his cock. You let out a gasp as it hits his stomach, never once had you seen one this big. Eddie smiles at your reaction while unwrapping the condom. Slowly rolling it over the tip of his dick and down the entirety of his hard length.

Eddie gets back on top of you, spreading your legs. He lets the tip rest on you swollen clit before dragging it down to your hole. Slowly, inch by inch you adjust to his size. He bottoms out, you let out a whimper because you’ve never felt fuller. He uses his hands to lift your thighs up so he can get better angle before starting a slow motion. Pumping in and out of you at a painfully slow pace, only making you desperate for him to pick up the pace.

He leans down to your level, his head resting in the crook of your neck. Your chest being flattened by his. One hand rests at the back of his neck, tightening in his hair and the other hands digs into his back as he bucks his hip harder into you. He’s thrusting harder but you desperately need him faster.

“Faster- please.” You say and it comes out as a whine. You get exactly what you want because he pushed up so he can see you before recklessly pounding into you cunt faster than before. He guides your hands so you can hold your own legs up, using his free hand to find your clit running circles around it sloppily.

“How does that feel princess?” He grunts between thrusts, his finger still playing with your bud. You can’t help but smile at the pet name. He finally said it again. When you don’t respond he rocks his hips harder and you start feeling that tightening in your stomach again.

“Fuck.” You cry out, knowing you’re about to cum for the second time. The sensation of your pussy throbbing on his cock as you get closer to finishing nearly sends him over the edge but he’s determined to make you cum again. His fingers work more tactically on your clit which is just enough to have you gushing on his dick.

“Good girl.” He groans. Not even a second later he’s cumming inside the condom, inside you. Suddenly wishing that thin little layer of latex wasn’t there so you could feel his seed coat your inner walls. He kisses you sweetly one last time before pulling out and falling next to you. His chest heaving up and down as he tried to catch his breath. You rest on his chest, listening to his heart beat.

“Was that believable?” He asks, out of breath.

“What?” You ask confused to drunk on dick to comprehend.

“Was that a good ol dickin’ down?” He laughs. You roll your eyes before nodding your head, yes.

—

The next two weeks we’re spent under and on top of Eddie Munson any chance you got. Dreading the fact that when break came to an end you’d have to head back to school. It was a three hour drive from Hakwins. You just got Eddie and couldn’t imagine having to let go so soon.

Eddie was so grateful Wayne left for the two weeks during thanksgiving break. He had a whole two weeks of uninterrupted time with you. He tried hard no to think about the fact you’d be leaving him in a short time. If he thought about it too much he’d upset himself, usually pushing the thoughts away focusing on the time he did have with you. So to say he was surprised when you invited him to have thanksgiving dinner with your family would be an understatement.

When you found out Eddie would be spending thanksgiving day alone you didn’t hesitate to invite him. Your heart felt for him when he admitted he never really celebrated holidays with Wayne always working. You were determined to make it perfect.

Explaining to you parents why this random dude was coming over on thanksgiving dinner was the hardest part. Only for Eddie to introduce him self as your boyfriend of seven months. They look at you like ‘what the fuck’ to which only caused you to laugh. Cursing yourself for not get your stories straight. More than happy to continue the bit but wished you could of prepared better.

“So how’d you two meet them?” Your father asks curiously. You both say different answers. You blurt out high school and he says you two met at a restaurant.

“We’ll we went to high school together, knew of each other. Ran into each other at Danny’s Dinner and hit it off.” You explain further, their faces telling that they don’t believe anything coming out of your mouth. They never question any further, thankfully.

—

Todays the dreaded day. The day you leave for college. You had already said your goodbyes to your family. Deciding what time you had left would be spent with Eddie. The two of you had just finished fucking for possibly the last time. Your brain had been heavily worried about what would happen when you left. It’s now or never, you need to ask him.

“I’m gonna miss you.” Eddie sighs. You sit up to face him, he’s laid in bed looking at the roof.

“I’ll miss you too. What are we doing?” You ask, trying to read his reaction. He looks at you with a smile.

“I don’t know about you but I’ve been faithfully committed to you for the last seven months.” He teases.

“I’m being serious Eddie.” You groan.

“Me too, princess.”

“So we are-?” You start to ask and he interrupts.

“Yes we are. Your all mine.” He kisses you.

“All yours.” You melt into his kiss, fucking one more time.

#eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson pov #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie imagine #eddie x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie stranger things #eddie x y/n #eddie x you #eddie smut #smut #stranger things #stranger things smut #stranger things x reader #stranger things 4

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silhouetteonpaper · 12 days

Text

The Cycle of Grief

Summary: When your brother passed away, the only person you could blame was yourself. Now that the grief has consumed you, there’s only one thing left to do. But what happens when a certain someone threatens to spoil your plans? Natasha Romanoff x Reader WC: 1,462 Warnings: Running away, grief, mentions of sibling death, veryyy angsty

Under the dark cover of night, you slip through the tall glass doors of the compound with quiet footsteps. Your heart is full of grief; there’s not a thought in your mind making you want to stay any longer. You don’t want to be a burden, and it’s always easier to isolate yourself than to ask for help. How is anyone supposed to help you anyways?

The deep blue night sky is freckled with stars, and you can’t help but take a moment to admire them. It reminds you of the time when you and your brother would sit out in an empty field and point out constellations. You never thought much of it at the time, but now everything inside you yearns for just one more moment with him—one more chance to sit and stargaze with the person you loved most.

But he’s gone now, killed in battle after you begged him to fight alongside you and the rest of the team. It’s all your fault. So, the only thing left to do now is to run; far away from the compound, far away from the life you once shared with your other half. Because now it’s too empty without him.

The backpack slung over your shoulder contains anything you might need for the journey ahead; from snacks, to clothes, to a pistol you stole from the training room—just in case. You don’t know where you’re headed, but you don’t care as long as it’s far away from the shattered pieces that now linger here at the compound.

All those days spent training alongside your brother, all those times he kept you motivated to be the Avenger you so desperately wanted to be. And for what? To kill him in return? There’s blood on your hands, and you can’t just wash it off.

The soft sound of your sneakers on the concrete fill the silence of dusk. The distant view of the city skyline makes you swallow thickly; you don’t hate many things—but you won’t hesitate to feel hatred toward this city. Towards the Avengers. Towards yourself.

The dark silhouettes of oak trees tower over you as you near the edge of the driveway. Several jets sit unattended on the small tarmac, but you know better than to take one. Not only would the loud engine wake everyone up, but each one has a tracking device. Your exact path pinned up for everyone to see doesn’t really support the whole ‘disappear’ part of your plan.

As you begin to trek down the long road ahead, it’s hard to stop your mind from wandering. A cacophony of what if’s steal your attention. Maybe, if you weren’t such a try-hard, he wouldn’t have died. How did you ever believe you could be a superhero? Superheroes don’t kill their own. If you had just agreed to let him stay home, he’d still be alive. It’s all your fault.

You’re so lost in your despair that a sudden noise makes you flinch. “You have ten seconds to explain what you’re doing here.” A voice appears behind you, the dissonant thoughts now scrambling away. You turn abruptly, a scowling face with red hair greeting you. It’s Natasha.

“Going for a walk, leave me alone.” You brush her off, turning back on your charted path. The last thing you need right now is for another Avenger to give you some speech about how great you are, how you’re destined to be a hero. Last time they said that, you ended up killing your brother. Those words are just empty lies now.

A part of you expected Natasha to relent, but you know better than to doubt the most headstrong woman you’ve ever met. She doesn’t speak, but instead walks alongside you in silence. You eye her with furrowed brows, and she seems unbothered while gazing at the tall trees and starry sky.

“What are you doing?” You question, slightly picking up the pace. She matches your speed easily.

“You said you’re going for a walk,” Natasha shrugs. “Am I not allowed to join?” Now you understand, the Widow knows something’s up. It was naive of you to believe you could fool her. Everyone knew how close you were with your brother, it’s only natural that when he died you’d be beside yourself. But what you hoped no one saw was the undying urge to run. Maybe if you ran far enough, you could forget any of this ever happened.

“I just want to be alone, please Nat.” You breathe, using everything in your power to stay calm. You can’t show your anger, that would only make her even more suspicious of your plans for tonight.

She’s silent for a moment. “Why, so you can sit in self pity?” Her words hit you like a punch to the gut. Natasha’s always been blunt, valuing tough love instead of coddling. But right now it stings even more than usual.

“So I can think. Just get some air and clear my head.” You partially lie. That’s practically why you’re running away, to fully clear your head of this nightmare. You just left out the ‘never coming back’ part.

“No, you’re running from your problems.” Natasha states without even looking your way. Your heart skips a beat, does she know? You don’t want to give yourself away, so you opt to dance around the subject.

“I’ll deal with my problems how I want. There’s nothing wrong with a bit of night air and some alone time.”

She chuckles, which makes the anger rise inside you. How is any of this funny to her? “There’s a difference between dealing with your problems and locking them away forever. There’s a difference between alone time and full isolation. You can’t live like this.” She stops walking, turning to face you.

You slow down, avoiding eye contact. You try to speak, but she’s not done yet. “I know you lost someone extremely important, but you can’t let yourself suffer just because he had to.”

“If you’re going to tell me that this isn’t what he’d want, I don’t want to hear it. He didn’t want to fight that day and I made him!” You cry out, the tears brimming in your eyes. For a split second, you can almost see a matching glint of mist in Natasha’s eyes under the moonlight.

“You blame yourself.” She says softly. You can hear the pang of heartache in her voice.

“I do,” You admit with tears now rolling down your cheeks. “I know you do too, for everything in your past. But you can’t use that as a reason now, not for this.”

“I’m not saying it’s the same, I’m saying that you don’t have to confine yourself to a life of misery. Just because he’s dead doesn’t mean you have to be too.” All the air in your lungs suddenly disappears. The anger, the grief, the overwhelming-never ending terror—it all washes over you at once.

Sobs escape your lips as your knees buckle beneath you. Natasha’s right there, grabbing your arms as you both lower to the ground. He’s dead, but that doesn’t mean you are too.

As your world continues to crash down, you see the reality of what you were planning to do. Running away to some far off city, to do what? To sulk, to isolate yourself, to sit in sorrow for the rest of your life? That’s as close to dead as someone can get while still being alive.

You don’t know how much time has passed when the initial tsunami of emotions finally subsides, but you find yourself buried into Natasha’s chest, her arms wrapped around you tightly as her hand caresses the back of your head.

Sniffing away the remaining tears, you think about moving—standing up and walking farther and farther away from any sign of support or love. But you don’t. It feels too good. After weeks without it, you long for it. You didn’t even know that what you truly needed was right in front of you this whole time.

So, you sit in silence. You let Natasha hold you. And you let yourself stay stationary, feeling the emotions you’ve suppressed for days on end. Because you don’t need to run when all you need is right here with you.

After a while, Natasha shifts. “Why don’t we get into bed?” She proposes, still refusing to be the one to pull back first. The idea of laying down and turning your mind off sounds wonderful, so you nod.

As you stand up with Nat’s help, she looks at you with a saddened smile. “I’m glad you’re choosing to stay. I don’t know what I’d do if you ever left.”

She’s known this whole time, and you’re not even surprised.

#marvel #mcu #the avengers #marvel fanfic #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader

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lqveharrington · 3 months

Text

Feelings Mutual | C.G.

summary: Your forced to hangout with Cardan at the High King’s birthday celebration. Turns out, you both make stupid decisions when drunk. And what’s the fine line between hatred and love between two being who can’t lie anyway?

pairing: Cardan Greenbriar x half fae!fem!reader

includes: drunk Cardan, drunk reader, cursing, making out, suggestiveness, no use of Y/N, barely proofread (i think that’s it)

a/n: i’m on a reading spree, and working on my projects, so this should help get me out of a huge writing slump.

In Faerie, it was uncommon for a half fae, half human being to be a princess in the court. Your father — the King of one of the many lands — wed a human woman, causing you to become the land’s princess. Of course many of the court thought that you were lesser than them; For such a creation should never hold that high of a status.

Ever since you were younger, you often attended lessons with the High King’s youngest child. At first, you sought out to befriend him and his group of friends. But you soon found out that they loathed you. Because how could a halfling ever be a worthy princess?

So you gave up trying to befriend them. You let the group taunt you for not being full fae, but what was the worst thing they could do? You still were a daughter of a very powerful king. The very king that was the closest with the High King himself.

You and your family were constantly invited to all their gatherings, and this one wasn’t an exception. It was the High King’s birthday, which meant all of Faerie was invited to Elfhame palace to celebrate such a day. The only issue with that meant your father and mother urged you to talk to Cardan and his group.

“Mother, they don’t like me.” You wring your hands together, fidgeting with your silver jewelry.

She clicked her tongue, “Nonsense. Prince Balekin spoke of how much Cardan talks about you when he comes home from your lessons.”

“Wait what?” Your eyes widen at her in disbelief. “Mother, I’m sure they’re words of hate.”

“Is it because you don’t like your dress? Are you afraid they’ll hate it?” She tugged you to stand in front of herself. “You look gorgeous, angel.”

You purse your lips at her compliment. You truly loved the dress. It was a beautiful sage color that complimented your skin tone completely, and the corset really did wonders. There were gorgeous lace details of butterflies that were a shade darker, with a slit running down one side of the dress. It was beautiful, but you feared that it was much too modern for Faerie, causing your thoughts to wander to how Cardan’s friends would insult it.

“No, I love the dress, mother.” You give her a tight lipped smile, squeeze her hands. “If you truly wish for me to find Cardan, I’ll go and be friendly so you and father can enjoy your time here.”

“Thank you.” She pressed a kiss to your forehead and a real smile etched its way onto your face.

“Be safe, alright?” Your father squeezed your shoulder before leaning down to whisper words your mother couldn’t hear. “If trouble comes, you know what I’ve taught you. You have your dagger?”

Your lips twitch in excitement, “Of course.”

“Then you’re all set then, kiddo.” He gave you one last look before resting an arm around your mother’s waist. “I’ll come find you when it’s time for us to depart.”

You nod before taking a small bow. You watched them leave and make their way to the throne, immediately engaging with the High King and Queen. They seemed happy, which made you glad that they accepted your mother as their own. Shaking your head, you took a deep breath and blew out the air in one go. Carefully, you made your way over to Cardan. Luckily, he was on his own for once.

“Cardan.” You nod in his direction, watching his dark eyes with flecks of gold suddenly gazing into yours. Without fail, his eyes roam over your body, tail whipping behind himself after gaining someone’s attention.

“Princess! Don’t you look absolutely captivating tonight.” He slurred, red wine dripping out of his glass. “Welcome to my humble abode.”

You raised a brow at the prince. From what you could recall, he didn’t live inside the palace walls. And there wasn’t a chance he could lie either. “You don’t live here.”

“I used to.” He tipped his glass up to his wine stained lips, taking in the drink whilst taking in the sight of you.

“Where are your—“ You use your hand to gesture in the air as you grab your own glass of wine from a server passing buy. Unsure of how to word your question, you sip on the wine, immediately hit by its strength. “Where are your friends, I should say.”

“Off to bother some mortal or do something stupid.” He smiles in your direction as you down your drink and reach for another. “What’s upsetting you, princess?”

“Nothing.” You tilt your head toward him, eyes flicking down from his strange stare to his stained lips. “Just want time to move faster.”

“How drunk do you want to get?” He leans closer to you, fingers itching to pull you into him.

You place a hand to his mouth and push him further away from yourself. He hums as he traces his finger over his empty wine glass.

“How many glasses have you had, Cardan?” You tip back your third drink, missing his smirk while he watches.

“Enough.”

“Enough to forget?” You turn toward the table and grab the strongest drink, carefully downing the drink.

His shadow towers over you as his breath tickles your neck, “Forget what exactly, love?”

“I hate you.” You say against Cardan’s lips, arms loosely hanging around his neck. “I hate you so much.”

He continues to push you backwards as he slams the door behind him, hands finding their place around your waist. “Feelings mutual, princess.”

Letting your hand thread through his hair, you pull him in for a more heated kiss, tugging ever so slightly at his roots. Cardan groans against your lips, pulling your body closer to his.

“This is such a stupid idea.” You unwillingly part as he drops you down on a bed — hopefully one that used to be his. You let out a small gasp as he litters soft kisses on your throat and down to your exposed collar bone. Your hands find his shoulders, pulling him impossibly closer. “Cardan—“

“Yes, love?” He slowly makes his way back up to your lips, pressing short kisses as you try to make sense of the situation. He stops attacking you with his lips, staring and waiting for you to continue.

You shake your head, eyes glassy with drunkenness as you meet his gaze. “Kiss me.”

“You’re too perfect for me.” He groans again, tasting the red wine from your lips as he kisses you harder. “God, I hate you.” Cardan mumbles as he lets his hands wander over your body, refraining from the more private areas at the moment.

Cardan allows you to wander over his own body, feeling you fidget with the hem of his shirt. Letting your hands slip underneath his shirt, you let out a small sigh before flipping the both of you over. You quickly toss your dagger onto the floor before meeting his lips again, the kiss heightening all your profound feelings.

As minutes turned into an hour more, you both fell into a pit of no return. The shared kisses were intensified, and without either party having a clear mind or being sober, neither could stop the motions that lulled them both to sleep very late into night.

It wasn’t until early afternoon that the pair awoke to the sounds of pounding at the door and a splitting headache.

“Your highness, your father is looking for you.” The voice called from outside the wooden doors, causing you to groan and bury your head into the warmth emitting from your bed.

A beat passed before the pounding occurred once more.

“Your highness—!”

“In a minute!” Cardan shouted, eyes shut from the dizziness and hangover. “For fucks sake…”

Your eyes widen at the voice, head rushing up before falling back down at the impact of a jaw. “Shit, that hurt.” You mutter, wincing when you felt the hangover hit you. Slowly, you remove yourself from Cardan’s arm, slightly frowning when you saw him rubbing his jaw. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to slam into you…”

“I think that’s the least of our concerns.” He grumbled, glaring at the door again.

He pushed himself up from the bed, eyes raking over your appearance. He smirked over at you before leaning against the headboard. You crease your brows before looking down and realizing whose clothes you were in — crossing your arms over the loose shirt.

“Princess, I think your father will be a little disappointed in you.”

“Why is that?” You roll your eyes at him, keeping one arm over Cardan’s shirt while running your free hand through your hair.

Your bored gaze meet his amused one, watching him tilt his head. You look away as you weren’t necessarily hiding the fact that you were eyeing his bare chest either.

He pulled you into his chest, despite your halfhearted protests. “Because you have hickeys all over your skin.” Cardan presses a kiss to your cheek, causing your breath to hitch.

All the memories from last name came rushing in, warmth filling your body at the thoughts. Your eyes flit to your dress and dagger scattered across his floor, still thinking of the punishment to come.

However, you did not regret him.

“I don’t think we drank enough last night.” You twist in his arms, lips barely touching his.

“I don’t think so.” He lands a soft kiss to your lips. “I still hate you, love.”

“Feelings mutual.” You straddle over his hips and rest your forehead on his, both your heads still pounding from last night’s activities.

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deliciousangelfestival · 25 days

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I Hate It When You're Drunk - 8

Character: bodyguard!Bucky Barnes x Princess!Reader

Summary: A forbidden romance between a princess and her bodyguard leads to a dramatic wedding, but their happiness is soon overshadowed by political intrigue and betrayal, testing their love and resolve.

I Hate It When You're Drunk Series Masterlist

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Thank you to everyone who has read this chapter. Leave a comment and Reblog, please. I'd love to hear your thoughts. ❤️

The empty hall echoed with the sound of heels clicking against the marble floor and the frantic rhythm of heavy breathing. Someone was running.

You sprinted as fast as you could toward where Bucky was. The gunshot had come from the changing room where Bucky had been just moments ago. You had barely finished changing from your wedding dress into another gown for the reception when the noise tore through the air, sending a chill down your spine.

Your heart pounded in your chest, fear clawing at your insides. Did your father have a change of heart? Was Bucky in danger?

As you reached Bucky's room, you gasped at the sight before you. Bucky was on the floor, cradling a man's lifeless body in his lap. The scene was eerily reminiscent of The Madonna della Pietà, with Bucky's anguished face mirroring the sorrow of the famed sculpture.

"What’s going on?" you asked, breathless and desperate for answers.

King Leonard turned to you, his expression cold and calculated. “Another rat snuck in, trying to harm James. But our new head of security, Isaac, took care of it.”

Isaac, who had discreetly concealed his gun, straightened his suit with a calm, practiced elegance. He bowed slightly in your direction. “The safety of the royal family is my top priority,” he said smoothly, his voice carrying a detached professionalism.

"I see," you replied, trying to mask the turmoil swirling inside you. "Could you leave us alone, please?"

“Of course.” King Leonard snapped his fingers, summoning another guard who swiftly moved to lift the lifeless body from Bucky's lap.

Your husband remained silent, his face a mask of shock and disbelief.

As Leonard and the others prepared to leave, he glanced back at you both. “Don’t keep our guests waiting too long,” he warned, before directing his gaze at Bucky. “Change your clothes,” he added, his tone leaving no room for argument. Then, with a final, authoritative nod, he exited the room.

Bucky slowly stood up, his movements heavy and dazed. You reached out to steady him, noticing the blood splattered across his suit. A wave of dread washed over you; this was surely a bad omen—someone had died on your wedding day.

“Are you alright? Did he hurt you?” you asked, your voice trembling with concern as you gently touched his arm.

Bucky shook his head, his eyes distant. “No, I’m fine,” he muttered, still in a daze. “I should get changed.” He moved toward the wardrobe, where a spare suit had been prepared for him.

As he changed, he remained silent, his thoughts clearly elsewhere. The shock of seeing Isaac—the man he had once trusted—turning traitor was still too much to process. Isaac, who had seemed so loyal and full of hatred for the king, had betrayed them all.

“Who was he?” you asked softly, hoping to break through Bucky's silence.

Bucky snapped back to the present, his eyes meeting yours for a moment before looking away. “Just like the king said, another assassin,” he replied, his voice flat and devoid of emotion.

“I’ve known you for too long,” you said quietly, your eyes fixed on Bucky. “I know when you’re lying.”

He flinched at your words, the truth of them hitting home. He sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly as he walked toward you. “It’s true that someone tried to kill me,” he admitted, his voice low and strained.

You stared at him in disbelief. “You? Why would someone try to kill you?”

He shrugged, a casual gesture that didn’t match the gravity of the situation. “I managed to put him down and wanted to ask him some questions, but the new head of security shot the assassin before I could,” he said, letting the half-truth slip from his lips. He hoped it would be enough to satisfy your curiosity.

“Let’s go,” Bucky added, extending his arm to you. “We can’t keep the guests waiting too long.”

Realizing he wasn’t going to share more, you sighed inwardly and looped your arm through his. Together, you walked down the long hallway, your footsteps echoing in the vast space.

As you walked, the image of the lifeless body being carried out of the room replayed in your mind. You kept your expression neutral; under your father’s tyrannical rule, you had seen more than your share of death and had faced countless assassination attempts yourself. You had lost count of the number of times you’d almost died, only to be saved by Bucky’s quick actions.

But this assassin—this man—had looked different. He wasn’t like the trained killers you were used to seeing. He had looked malnourished, haggard, dirty. An assassin should be stealthy, composed, deadly—a shadow that could move unseen. But this man had been anything but. His appearance raised more questions than answers.

You gritted your teeth, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. What was going on? The day wasn’t even over, and already your husband was hiding things from you.

Finally, the two of you reached the large double doors leading to the reception hall. The head butler, standing tall and formal, bowed before opening the doors with a flourish. His voice rang out in a clear announcement, “Your Highness, Princess Y/N and Duke James Buchanan Barnes.”

'Duke.' Bucky could hardly believe it. He had been given a royal title—a position he never thought he’d occupy. As he stepped into the grand hall and saw everyone rise from their seats and bow, a strange feeling washed over him. In the past, he would have been among them, standing to show respect or remaining still like a sentinel. But now, everything felt different. The weight of his new role pressed on him, heavy and unrelenting.

The room was filled with dignitaries and high-ranking officials, all eyes fixed on the two of you. As you made your way to your designated seats near King Leonard, Bucky couldn’t help but feel a mix of discomfort and disbelief.

You took your seat next to your father, the tyrant king, while Bucky sat beside you. You could feel the tension radiating from him, his jaw clenched and his hands resting stiffly on his lap.

Leonard stood from his seat, lifting his champagne glass high, and the room fell silent in anticipation of his words. His gaze swept over the gathered guests, and his voice, deep and commanding, filled the hall.

“To my daughter, Y/N, and her husband, James Buchanan Barnes,” he began, his expression a mix of pride and authority. “Today, we celebrate not just the union of two hearts, but the unity and strength this marriage brings to our nation. May your lives together be filled with loyalty, love, and an unwavering commitment to our great kingdom. To the happy couple!”

“To the happy couple!” echoed the guests as they raised their glasses and drank to the toast.

The reception started in a formal, reserved manner, with dignitaries and high-ranking officials mingling and offering their congratulations. But soon, the atmosphere shifted, becoming more lively and animated. Laughter and chatter filled the room, and the formal lines began to blur as the guests relaxed.

Your friends surrounded you with warm smiles and excited chatter, each of them eager to share their well-wishes. One of them leaned in with a grin, her eyes sparkling. “Your dress is absolutely stunning, Y/N! It’s already gone viral online—everyone’s talking about it!”

Another friend chimed in, laughing, “And let’s not forget about Bucky! He looks so dashing in his uniform; he’s gaining a whole new fanbase!”

Their enthusiasm and joy were infectious, and you found yourself smiling, momentarily caught up in the happiness around you. It reminded you of why you had wanted this day so much—the joy, the celebration, the love shared with friends and family.

As you glanced across the room, you noticed Bucky deep in conversation with Archer, the Defense Minister, and several other military officials, easily identifiable by their uniforms. A pang of sadness tugged at your heart. Bucky didn’t have many friends here; most of the people surrounding him were tied to duty and obligation rather than friendship.

“Champagne, ladies?” Cassian suddenly appeared beside you, a tray of champagne flutes balanced effortlessly in his hand.

Your friends eagerly took a glass, and Cassian gave you a knowing smile. “Ladies, could you give us a moment? I have something to say to the bride.”

“Of course,” one of your friends replied, and they moved away, leaving you alone with Cassian.

Once you were alone, Cassian offered you a fresh bottle of champagne with a sly grin. “Care for a drink straight from the bottle?”

You scoffed, crossing your arms. “Are you trying to make me look like a fool?”

Cassian smirked. “Just trying to help you forget your misery. Marriage troubles already, right after the vows?”

Your glare was sharp, and Cassian chuckled, clearly enjoying himself. “I’ve been to a lot of weddings,” he continued, “and usually, the couple is inseparable at the reception. But you two? It’s like you’re miles apart.” He shook his head, feigning disappointment.

“Shut your mouth, or I’ll have you deported,” you snapped, half-joking but serious enough to wipe the smirk off his face.

Cassian raised an eyebrow, still smiling. “You actually have that power, you know.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Are you challenging me?”

His smile widened. “Only if you become queen.”

You rolled your eyes in exasperation and turned away, heading toward Bucky, who was still engaged in conversation with Archer.

As you approached, Archer’s tone was low and serious. “What kind of mess have you gotten yourself into, Bucky? Who was that dead man?”

Bucky sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s a long story. It’ll take time to explain everything.”

“Bucky,” you called softly as you reached them.

Archer immediately bowed. “Your Highness,” he said respectfully before stepping away to give you privacy.

“What were you two talking about?” you asked, your curiosity piqued by their hushed conversation.

Bucky offered a tight smile. “Just some military matters, nothing to worry about.”

“Oh,” you replied, feeling a mix of relief and frustration. You wanted to know more but could see he wasn’t in the mood to share. Your hand instinctively reached for his arm, giving it a gentle squeeze, hoping to reassure him that you were there, ready to support him.

A commotion erupted outside the grand hall, shattering the festive atmosphere of the wedding reception. The heavy wooden doors suddenly swung open with a loud creak, and a group of people entered. Every head turned, gasps filling the room as the guests took in the sight. The newcomers were dressed entirely in black, their faces obscured by black veils that covered them from head to toe.

You and Bucky exchanged bewildered glances, neither of you recognizing the mysterious figures.

Leonard, his face contorted with anger and suspicion, barked, “Guards!”

At his command, the royal guards quickly assembled, forming a tight circle around the intruders, their hands resting on the hilts of their swords, ready for any sudden movements.

The figure at the front, clearly the leader, stepped forward with a slow, deliberate grace. A soft, yet firm voice emerged from beneath the veil, a voice that was unmistakably familiar. “It’s been a long time, Leonard.”

Your heart skipped a beat. You whispered, almost to yourself, “It can’t be…”

The woman in black continued, her voice calm but resolute. “I have no hatred, Leonard. I’ve come only to offer my blessings to my niece.”

She moved forward with an elegant stride, and the tension in the room seemed to make every step echo louder than it should. The guards hesitated, unsure whether to stop her. Her presence seemed to command an unspoken respect, and slowly, they parted to let her pass.

Even now, after all Leonard’s tyranny, the former queen’s influence lingered like a haunting memory. Alicia Svensson, the former queen of Veridian, the widow of your uncle, who was murdered by Leonard in his ruthless rise to power. All of his siblings and their families had perished, except for Alicia. On that bloody day, she had been away, visiting her ailing father in her homeland.

She was fortunate to have survived, but she lost her husband and sons. The grief drove her to madness, and she vowed never to return to Veridian, the land that had taken everything from her.

But here she was, walking through the hall with a quiet authority that silenced the room. Her steps, though soft, seemed to echo with the power of her past. Alicia stopped in front of you and Bucky, her veil still obscuring her face.

“I still remember both of you running through my gardens,” she said, her voice tinged with a melancholy that cut through the silence.

Memories flooded back—days of playing in her lush gardens, carefree and happy, under her watchful, loving eyes. Her sons, you, other kids, and Bucky are playing together. Before Leonard’s betrayal shattered everything.

Steeling yourself, you took a step forward, trying to hold back tears. “Aunt, thank you for coming,” you said softly, reaching out as if to embrace her.

But as you got closer, Alicia leaned in, her voice dropping to a whisper only you could hear. “I pity you, dear. You, who know nothing or are too ignorant.” Her long nails grazed your skin, cold and sharp.

You flinched, pulling back, your eyes wide with shock and confusion.

She made the sign of the cross and prayed aloud, “I pray that you will one day replace your father and become a better ruler.”

Leonard’s patience snapped, his face red with fury. “You insolent woman!”

But Alicia was unfazed. “You can’t touch me, Leonard. I am here as a diplomatic guest,” she said, her voice steady and defiant.

Leonard’s lips curled into a sneer. “Then my guards will drag you and your servants out of this house.”

At his command, the guards moved in, roughly grabbing Alicia and her entourage, escorting them toward the exit.

Leonard turned to Bucky, his expression cold. “Make sure they leave the premises immediately.”

Bucky nodded, his face a mask of stoicism. “Yes, sir.”

As the uninvited guests were escorted out, the tension in the room slowly began to dissipate. The remaining guests murmured among themselves, shocked and curious about what had just transpired.

Leonard, ever the manipulator, raised his voice to calm the crowd. “Nothing to worry about, my friends. Please, enjoy yourselves! More champagne, wine, and food!”

But for you, the festive atmosphere was gone. The shooting, the death, and now Aunt Alicia’s ominous appearance—it all felt like a bad omen, a dark shadow over what should have been a joyous day.

With everyone preoccupied and the focus shifting back to Leonard, you found a moment to slip away unnoticed. Grabbing the bottle of champagne that Cassian had offered earlier, you quietly left the ballroom, your footsteps echoing in the empty hallway.

The hall was dimly lit by the moon’s pale glow, casting long, eerie shadows on the stone walls. You walked slowly, lost in your thoughts, replaying the events of the day over and over in your mind. Once you were far enough away, you pulled out the cork with a loud pop and brought the bottle to your lips, drinking deeply. The cold liquid burned slightly as it went down, but it wasn’t enough to drown the turmoil inside you.

One bottle wouldn’t be enough to make you forget. Perhaps you’d find another, or a third, to numb the pain of this day’s bitter revelations.

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