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sihtricfedaraaahvicius · 1 month

Text

To Bicker & To Love

note: forgive me if this fic is not a smooth read, trying to get back in the saddle again (hehe).

warnings: suggestive/fluff.

pairing: Sihtric x fem!reader

summary: You had to travel with Sihtric, by the King's orders.

word count: 2.4k

Masterlist

Reblogs & comments are immensely appreciated.

You just couldn't believe it. The way your horse had gotten a scare and in response ran off into the early sunset, the saddle still on his back to which the pouches that held all your herbs, seeds and bottled ointments were attached. You felt defeated, tears welling up in your eyes when you realised all that was valuable to you had just disappeared in the blink of an eye. All because the man you were forced to travel with, from Eoferwic to Bebbanburg, had not listened to you when you had told him to not eat like a starved boar moments before the unfortunate incident.

The man's name was Sihtric, and he had been sent by King Aethelstan to find you; the best healer in what would soon be an united England. You were called to help the Lord Uhtred, who had suffered grave wounds during the battle of Brunanburh and was seemingly close to his death. You didn't quite trust the rugged looking Dane, but since the King himself had requested you, you wasted no time packing your tools and fetching your horse. And so you had left on horseback only hours after Sihtric had found you, determined to save a brave man's life.

The journey wasn't a short one, with some luck it would take roughly five to six days. That was at least when you both still owned a horse. Because now, after your horse had fled, you had no idea how much longer it would take since Sihtric's horse would have to carry two people from that very moment. But before you could even allow yourself to be concerned about that, you lashed out at Sihtric, who was sitting next to you as he recovered from the terrifying coughing fit he just had experienced that had scared off your horse.

'I told you!' you shouted, fighting your tears, 'I told you to not gulp the bread down like that! I warned you that you could choke on it, that I had seen men twice your size inhaling the crumbs and suffocating because they couldn't cough it out anymore! And yet you continued to shove it down like that! And now look!' you angrily pointed towards the empty horizon where your horse had vanished mere seconds ago, 'you almost choked and scared my horse! My horse, you fool!' you shouted and punched Sihtric's shoulder several times, 'my horse is gone with everything I had!'

Sihtric accepted your fury while he still gasped for air, his face red while tears stained his cheeks after he had nearly choked on the bread you had warned him about. He had been eating greedily, he couldn't deny that, all he wanted was to eat fast so the journey could be continued after a short stop. You had been travelling for two days already, getting little sleep, so the moments you got to rest to give the horses a break and to feed yourselves was always a small treat, but never a long lasting one.

'I'm sorry,' Sihtric wheezed, his voice still hoarse from coughing and gasping for air.

'You are sorry?' you yelled, 'sorry won't bring back my horse! Nor will it bring back everything I need to help Uhtred! I have to make everything all over again, and I do not know if we will find everything I need on our way!'

'I can assure you that everything you need will be found in Bebbanburg,' he said in between lingering coughs, 'you will be able to make new ointments, I promise.'

'You promise,' you scoffed and kicked the man's leather boot, 'and a horse? Will you promise me a new horse too as soon as we arrive?'

'I will,' Sihtric half lied.

He was not entirely sure if he could fix you a new horse immediately, but he was terrified of you so he would surely try everything he could to satisfy you. The way you spoke about healing and the magic of nature and the stars, Sihtric believed you to be a sorceress of sorts. And despite the fact it had been many years since he had encountered Skade, he was still wary of any lady who seemed to possess certain powers he could not explain, and he was convinced that you too held powers that could possibly curse him.

'Speaking of arriving,' you then groaned, 'is your horse strong enough to carry us both to Bebbanburg?'

'You question the strength of my beast?' Sihtric asked, offended, 'yes, he will hold,' he said snappy, 'besides, we will pass Dunholm and make a stop there,' he said as he got up, 'and I will see if I can help you to get a new horse there.'

Sihtric walked into you on purpose, bumping your shoulder and shoving you out of his way as he went to look for a private place to empty his bladder, so the journey could continue to the nearest village where you would stay one night to rest after the dramatic event.

'You are bruising my ribs,' Sihtric huffed back over his shoulder.

'I am barely holding you!' you snarled as you sat behind him.

You had only been sharing the same horse for an hour and it had been all but great. You didn't want to wrap your arms around Sihtric, but you had no other choice than to cling onto him since he was in a hurry to reach the nearest tavern, spurring his horse to gallop faster and faster as darkness was quickly taking over the lands.

'And stop squeezing my thighs between your legs!' Sihtric added.

'What did you expect?' you snapped, 'I am wearing a dress, Sihtric, I cannot give you any more space without shoving my skirt up further and completely exposing myself!'

'No one will see you anyway,' he mumbled, loud enough for you to hear.

You bit your tongue, wanting to curse him as much as you wanted to smack the back of his head. You had to remind yourself you were on your way to hopefully save a man's life, so you had to deal with Sihtric as long as was needed in order for you to do your job and be forever in favour with the King.

By the time you arrived at the nearest tavern, which was awfully coincidental named The Lost Horse, you were both tired and agitated. And as if things couldn't get worse, Sihtric informed you that the tavern only had one room left which didn't have two single beds. You made a face at the thought of sharing a bed with him, and it was not like Sihtric was any more excited for the night ahead. Because sharing the sheets with a sorceress was not something he was looking forward to, but he wouldn't show you his fear, being well aware you could use it against him.

You both reluctantly went up to the second floor of the rather quiet inn. Since it had been an eventful day it didn't take long before you were both left in your undergarments and sharing the thin sheet in a small and darkened room that stank of ale and moist wood. You tossed and turned as the drunk chatter of men outside your open window kept you up. And so you kept Sihtric up too, as you continued pulling the blanket off Sihtric's bare chest each time you moved, and he had enough of it after a short while.

'Stop it,' he said calmly but firmly, his hand wrapped around your arm to keep you from moving again.

'I cannot get comfortable,' you hissed in the dark and pulled your arm away from him.

'Neither can I if you keep moving!'

'This is all your fault anyway!'

'I'm sure it is,' Sihtric mumbled and turned his back to you.

He kept his brave composure while he already knew he would be sleeping with one eye open tonight, while you were unaware of his fright for you, which was also something you would never even find out about until years later, when he confessed it after you married him.

'I am cold,' you complained after a long silence.

Sihtric sighed in response and asked what you wanted him to do about it, because he was certainly not going to give up the whole blanket as it was indeed a chilly night, and the open window could not be closed because the stench in the room would become unbearable.

'Figure it out,' you huffed, 'you caused this situation.'

Sihtric inhaled deeply and turned over to find you with your back turned to him. He sighed quietly and then gathered the courage to wrap his arm around you, so he could pull you against his warm chest. You felt your face burn up when you were pressed against him, as it felt more comfortable and safe to be this close to him than you liked to admit. And while Sihtric gradually warmed you up like that, you both began to warm to each other's presence too.

And a short while later you tangled your fingers together with his, for a reason you couldn't explain, but it felt almost natural to do so. The same way it felt natural for Sihtric to rest his face against the back of your neck and push away your hair, only to then drag his lips faintly over your skin. His lips felt warm and soft as he began to kiss tenderly up your neck, and soon your breath hitched in your throat when he slowly added more pressure with each kiss he left. You lightly squeezed his hand while you gripped the sheets with your other, trying to control your sudden need to taste him and feel him inside you. But once you felt Sihtric's arousal press against your buttocks, you both gave in to the urges that had made you both snappy the past few days.

The next day you and Sihtric acted as if nothing had happened. As if he hadn't begged for you to say his name when you climaxed, and as if you hadn't woken him up a few hours later for another good humping, which he had gladly done in his drowsy state.

The journey continued that morning, and you were off to Dunholm in the hopes of getting a new horse. And during your travel on horseback together you would never admit how you enjoyed inhaling his scent as you sat close behind him. And Sihtric in turn would never admit how he enjoyed the feeling of your arms wrapped around his waist. But even though you were both quietly getting lost in each other more and more as the days progressed, neither of you had forgotten about the task at hand and its urgency. So when you had made a stop in Dunholm that turned out to be futile, for no suitable horse was currently available, you both turned back to your old selves again and started to blame each other for the delays you continued to suffer.

You bickered as the journey continued the next few days while sharing one and the same horse. And each stay in a village's tavern you stopped at for a good night's rest turned into another passionate and steamy night, during which you both only got little sleep and explored each other further and more eagerly.

Once you finally reached Bebbanburg you indeed were provided with everything you needed in an attempt to save Uhtred, who wasn't looking too greatly. But after a few days of good rest and your healing ointments, he started to get some colour back in his face again and he slowly became more aware of his surroundings too. Sihtric had continued to keep an eye on you, both out of interest and still his slight fright for you, and you had noticed his lingering eyes on you plenty of times. But it wasn't until the King had thanked you for your help and allowed you to travel back home that you would talk to the Dane again.

'A horse,' you said, startling Sihtric as he had been lost in his thoughts while feeding his own horse, 'you promised me a horse.'

'And I will get you one,' he said with pride, 'I actually have gotten you one already.'

Sihtric smiled and nodded to the impressive beast behind you, a beautiful black mare, one you would never be able to afford on your own account so you gladly accepted without hesitating.

'To make sure you get back home in good health,' he continued, 'I will accompany you on your journey home.'

'I don't think so,' you chuckled while you were already mounting your horse.

'King's orders,' Sihtric lied, which caused you to not spur away immediately.

You could not dismiss the orders of a King, you just didn't know yet that Sihtric was never tasked with such a duty, but you wouldn't find that out until later that night.

'Fine,' you rolled your eyes and signalled your horse to walk, 'let's go.'

Sihtric was fast to get on his horse and caught up with you moments later. He thanked you for your help and apologised for the loss of your horse and belongings. You accepted his apologies and also gave him an apology of your own for being rather cold towards him at times, which made Sihtric smile cockily. And when you had your first stop in another small village that evening, once again sharing a room and ending up in the same bed for another impressive and sleepless night, Sihtric finally confessed his feelings to you and so convinced you to travel with him to Dunholm to stay with him.

'Stay and become my wife,' Sihtric whispered and smiled softly, a faint blush coloured his cheeks as he still recovered from his climax moments earlier.

'Your wife?' you chuckled and pushed a strand of hair that had escaped his braids behind his ear, your cheeks just as rosy as his, 'you are expecting me to marry you? Why?' you taunted, 'because you happen to satisfy me in ways no man has ever done before?'

'No, because… King's orders,' Sihtric smiled and winked, then pulled you in for a sweet kiss which would be followed by another few satisfying hours convincing you to stay with him, even though you never really needed to be convinced.

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#sihtric x reader #sihtric x you #sihtric kjartansson #the last kingdom #sihtric #tlk #sihtric fic #tlk au #sihtric au

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moonydustx · 5 days

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response to this request @i0fty I loved your request (I have a thing for writing hurt/comfort and angst). I really hope you like it. I wrote it as f!reader, but I can adjust it if I want

warnings: F!Reader is attacked, mention of celestial dragons, Law and she have feelings for each other and it's obvious, Law saves F!Reader

one piece masterlist

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As soon as you set foot on that island, you knew there was something strange, something that sent a chill down your spine. It would be a short break to stock up on some emergency supplies and head towards the next island, which was larger and would have more interesting information for your crew.

Even so, some crewmates and your captain, Law, disembarked next to you.

"So, do you need a lot of things?" Law tried to make conversation, seeing you take a small map out of your pocket and point to something he could barely understand.

"I needed some lemongrass herbs. I saw they sell them here, but they are expensive, however, given the climate of this island I think I can find some in this green area." You explained, seeing him nod and hand you a few more berris.

"Don't go far, it might not be safe. If you can find something to buy, buy it" he insisted, seeing you look around, apparently suspicious. "What it was?"

"Do you feel something strange in the air?" you asked and saw him repeat your gesture of checking the surrounding environment.

"Some residents seem a little scared." Shachi who had also disembarked scored.

"It could be our imagination, as well as some confusion that happened. Which would be a great attraction for the marine." Law explained as you walked behind him. "Be careful and don't get into any kind of trouble."

"Yes captain." even in uncoordinated unison, you responded together.

"And you, what are you going to explore?" you asked Law as the others scattered. "Not that there's much to do."

"Do you remember that old book about spirit hunters that you mentioned? I saw that there might be a copy around here."

"Bullshit! Are you going to buy it?" Law laughed lightly, almost imperceptibly when he saw your excitement.

"Just don't tell Bepo, he'll say I have favoritism in the crew." the captain pointed out. "If you finish early, meet me at the bookstore. It should be easy to find, I don't think there are many around here."

The promise of meeting him later made you excited. Your relationship with the captain was something different from your relationship with others - you shared games, reading and conversations until late at night. Sometimes, it was as if the two of you were in a little world of your own.

You even tried to use the money provided by Law but, in addition to being insufficient, the little shop had strange looks from all sides. The feeling on that island was of being spied on with every step taken, with every interaction.

Moving away from the small shopping center and without even entering the small forest that almost annexes the city, you found some bushes that you needed. It was simple to harvest them and tie them in a way to transport them without losing any leaves.

Before you could stand up and continue your journey to the bookstore, you felt something against your neck, but you were able to dodge it and roll to the other side. Finally standing up, she could see two men staring at you.

"I'm sorry, lady, but we have orders to take you." one of them warned and you bent down to reach the knife you had used to harvest, unfortunately not fast enough to feel something burn in your hand.

"What the fuck… You know what? I'm going to kill you" you left things aside and went out to fight them.

Even using everything you knew about fighting, trying to use all the blows that came to your mind, you still ended up getting hit more times, some of the blows you barely understood where they were coming from.

"What do you want with me?!" you shouted once again, being ignored.

The metallic taste on your lips indicated that the attack you suffered had been much stronger than you expected. Both the desire to fight and the fear itself caused your adrenaline to skyrocket, leaving you alert to any movement from the two men.

"You should save your efforts." one of them emphasized, the handcuffs on his hands made an annoying noise as they clashed together. "They will need you at full strength."

"And it's not like you're going to win alone." the other completed, stretching out the whip and hitting your arm squarely.

The sensation was something like an unexpected burn, but it wouldn't stop you from fighting, from returning to where you really belonged. Standing up, you advanced towards the shorter man, landing a few punches, enough for him to stagger a little and give you space to escape.

At least that's what you thought until you felt someone pull you back and the click of the handcuffs awakened your despair. No, you couldn't let yourself get carried away like that. How would your friends be? Would they ever see you serving as a doormat for one of those damned celestials?

"This is an aggressive one, just like they asked for." the man pressed his body to yours, in order to speak in your ear. "The guys up there, the big celestial dragons will like a piece like you. They'll hunt you, they'll hurt you and I'll get rich."

No matter how much you struggled, his grip grew even stronger against your body, while the other man got closer to try to cover your face. Perhaps desperation had prevented you from noticing some things around you, awareness hit you completely when the aggressive grip around your body became a gentle, almost protective touch. His voice hit you before your own perception.

"It's ok, I'm here now." Law let his hands run down your arms and he advanced towards the other man.

In another situation, Law would have fun tearing those bodies into pieces and watching them try to reorganize themselves. But this time it was different.

They had messed with one of his crew members, an intelligent aspiring doctor, who would know how to use any and all plants to her advantage, who was great at playing chess and had read a good part of Sora's stories - even if the last ones were by his invitation. She was the girl who laughed at anything while dying of shyness when someone pointed out an adjective to her. She was the girl he dreamed of getting some attention, but her scared eyes indicated that those bastards had hurt her and he couldn't let that go.

The first man - who Law hadn't changed places to reach you - soon fell to the ground, clearly unconscious.

"Where's the other one?" your voice was exasperated, as your eyes tried to hunt the other guy through some trees.

"Shachi and Penguin already took care of him." Law pointed out while looking for keys to the handcuff.

"W-we need ... W-we need to check!" the way your voice sounded urgent alerted Law, forcing him to get closer to you. "He can get help, they have whips and…"

"Hey!" He tried to call you, not having much success. When his hands found your face, Law saw you flinch. "Look at me, Shachi and Penguin already took care of this… Look at me!" he pulled your face back, seeing you want to dodge.

"But… T-they had whips... and handcuffs and they were going to t-take me to the c-celestial dragons." the words stumbled as they left your lips.

"They won't, I would never let them." Law insisted, seeing you nod, even though he knew the words wouldn't truly reach you.

"Let's go back to Polar Tang, what do you think?" he suggested and saw you nod practically in slow motion and remain silent.

As quickly as Law had transported you back to the submarine, the thoughts were faster than you could express.

It was difficult to process some things, you still had a hard time accepting that there were people who felt so superior to others that they chose random people to be hunted. You had heard of it, but you always thought of it as something far away from you, that it was just a scary story that would stay far away.

But there you were, feeling your wounds being cleaned by careful hands, extremely contrary to what you had felt just now.

"Please…" Law's voice came out almost like a sigh. "I need you to say something."

"What do you need?" Your eyes watched as Law left the tweezers with the cotton on the small tray next to him.

"You're too immersed in your own mind and I can tell you that's not a good thing." he explained and saw you rambling again, it was clear that something was wrong. "Please don't think just talk to me."

"I thought everything was lost, you know?" you began, feeling your eyes sting with tears. "I've never felt so scared."

"I told you, I would never let that happen." Law didn't hesitate as he ran his hand over your face, brushing away some tears that insisted on coming out. "And I promise this won't happen again."

"You're the captain, you have more things to worry about." a weak, almost inaudible laugh came out of you. "Do I really matter that much?"

"Much more than you think." he pointed out and saw you smile shyly. "I was in the bookstore and I started hearing some comments about missing people. They all had some kind of similarity to you… I know they are in different ways, but I felt scared like I haven't felt in a long time."

"What does that mean?"

"That I'm going to finish stitching up those wounds, I'm going to make you something to eat and after that, you won't be out of my sight anymore." he explained.

Even though you felt a slight discomfort in the wounds on your arm, you allowed your face to lean against his chest, your arms to wrap around him in a simple hug. His face lowered itself to the top of your head and a "I promise to always be here" was whispered in your embrace.

#fiction #reader insert #one piece #no use of y/n #trafalgar d law x reader #law x you #law x reader #trafalgar law x reader #trafalgar law

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wanderlust-in-my-soul · 5 months

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Devotion.

I just want, or rather need, to write about this scene, because it stuck in my head for the last seven days. And because of the wonderful @lurkingshan I decided to post it...

This scene is the culmination, the end of the years that Qian has forbidden himself to feel joy or love. Romantic love that doesn't demand, that doesn't require him to be in control, to take care, to be the big brother. So far he has not allowed the depth of his feelings for Yuan to surface. He has kept them locked away, kept control of them. He knows they were there, but couldn’t or didn’t dare to face them, to name them. And he would have continued to do so if Yuan hadn't finally told him what he actually wants from him. It wasn't enough for him to tell Qian that he loves him, that it was his own problem, not Qian's, that he was content if the person he loved was happy. The talk with San Pang and the staircase talk were the first steps, Qian is finally able and willing to face those emotions, but couldn’t make up his mind. Still couldn't name those feelings.

Everything is too much for him. He is overwhelmed by the decision he has to make and the possible outcome of that. He could lose Yuan, if they don't work out in the end. If those boundaries are finally crossed, there is no going back to where they were. So Qian needed to hear that Yuan doesn't want him as a brother. Every time Yuan told Qian he can take care of him, he is there for him and holds up the world together with him, it was as a brother. In Qian’s mind, he said that as a brother. All Qian brought Yuan was suffering and sadness and abandonment, because he fell in love with him.

In his mind, Yuan shouldn’t love him as something else than a brother, because that would harm both of them. Because loving Qian isn’t a good thing to do. Qian knows that Yuan loves him but hasn't understood, or rather wanted to understand, the extent of his feelings. Yuan wants to be his partner. He wants him to be able to rely on him, to be Qian's rock, no matter what life brings, he wants to be there for him. And not just for the moment, but for the rest of his life. And not just as a brother Qian has to take care of, but as a lover, the one person who puts Qian first.

He wants to be Qian's partner, he wants to protect him and take the burden off his shoulders. He wants Qian not to have to deal with everything on his own, but to open up to him, to share his worries and hardships with him. And Qian finally understands what it means when Yuan tells him that he can summarize his life in two words: Wei Qian. Yuan puts Qian above himself, he would run to the end of the world for him if he had to, he would fight against the rest of the world if he had to, he will protect him, he will take care of him and love him no matter what the world holds. And finally Qian understands that it's good, that Yuan won't just leave him once he opens up, because he loves everything about him, his dark sides and his light ones. Yuan can take care of him to the end, can love him to the end. And Qian surrenders. He's always in fucking control, no matter what, he has to control everything, even his heart. But at some point, all resistance breaks. He just had to understand.

And when they get into the bedroom, Qian is beaming. The lightning focusses on his face, this delighted face. He is like pudding under Yuan’s kisses, touches, breathes. In that moment he exists only out of his emotions. There is nothing more and nothing more is needed in this situation. He has never looked so weightless before and has certainly never felt like this.

We know what Yuan imagines at night, or at least we have a pretty good idea. We have witnessed countless moments when his love and affection for Qian literally leaked out of his face, while Qian tried to suppress his feelings with a petrified expression. But finally, he can feel them. He allows himself to give in. He allows Yuan to take care of his world, to let him feel how much he loves and desires him. The power of emotions and sensations are depicted on Qian’s face. He has his eyes closed, tasting every single moment, savouring every single touch. Blissfully.

Yuan's presence is Qian's entire focus. Just as Qian is Yuan's entire focus. And he makes sure that Qian feels good, that he forgets everything, all problems and responsibilities, illnesses and losses, for the moment. He takes care of his world. This one thing he wanted to do for so long, he is finally able to do.

(Well, there is an edited version out now with this whole scene as one without the flashbacks, but I saw the other one first and I loved it, so I stick to it.) The whole scene is repeatedly interrupted by scenes from the past and it is always Yuan. I was also a bit irritated by the time jumps at first, I get why people are annoyed by this, but it makes sense. We know that Qian is Yuan's whole world, the centre around which he has revolved for years and for which he would do anything. We see scenes that led to where they are now. Their shared history. Their shared memories. The sequences speed up and at some point it's just Yuan’s face at its core. Yuan. Yuan. Yuan.

And you can understand, without needing to be told, that Yuan is also Qian's whole world. He is the centre, the heart that gives his own life warmth, with whom he can let himself fall, who knows him better than anyone else, who was always there, even when he physically wasn't, the only one who could tell him to do things he didn’t want to do, the one he can’t fucking live without. And Qian surrenders. The feelings he couldn't allow for so long are now boiling out and we have these close-ups of his face and see how he's longed for it. How touch starved this boy was.

I don't need a close-up of Yuan to know that he's enjoying every single second. Would it have been nice? Sure, but I think narratively, that's the way they wanted and needed to go. And I love this whole scene. It's aesthetic, it advances the story, it's intimate and it's fitting for the show. Because Qian always was Yuan’s world and Yuan is Qian’s whole world.

I just wanted or needed to say I love this scene, its buildup, its pace, its hecticness and this disconnected feeling. It's Qian's scene. It's what we've all been dying for, for Qian to finally give in. And when the emotions overwhelm you, then it becomes hectic, then nothing hangs together and thoughts can't be grasped, can't be put in order. You jump from moment to moment, starting at one point and ending at a completely different one. It's Qian's scene. It's not Yuan's. We've had enough scenes to see Yuan's love and devotion, now it's time for Qian. We are, like Yuan, experiencing Qian in his first moment of absolute devotion. Without time, without place, without anger or fear. He doesn't think about the past or worry about the future, because for the first time he lives in the present. Yuan gives him this security that he can let his guard down, give up the control. I don't think Qian has ever felt as safe, secure, and loved as he does in this moment. And I love it so fucking much! Perhaps I just ignore my little dissappointement in them rushing this whole thing, because I watch those scenes with a narrator in my mind and he is giving me so much more in those scenes than the actual scene shows. But I understand everyone who is dissapointed with this scene and editing.

#unknown #unknown the series #unknown ep 11 #qianyuan #chris chiu #kurt huang #qian x yuan #bl drama #bl series #asianlgbtqdrama #taiwanese bl #taiwanese drama #taiwanese series #queer drama #lgbtq+#just my thoughts #josi watching bl #unknown meta #long post

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miaoua3 · 2 months

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My Home

Pairing: dino x gn!reader

Genre: fluff, just…fluff

Description: dino has a very hard day. dino’s day gets considerably better because of you. dino is in love with you.

Note: I LOVE DINO SM I WANT TO CRY PLS GOD TAKE ALL OF HIS SUFFERING AND GIVE IT TO THE TOXIC KPOP STANS PLS

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

you have come to the point in your relationship where you knew how dino felt simply by how his presence felt.

so last night when he came back home and you could barely feel him (as well as hear him because he was just so quiet), you immediately knew that the love of your life was exhausted.

when he came in through the door, he only greeted you with a little, raspy “hello” instead of something cute and flirty like “good evening my beautiful lady” like he usually does. not only that, but during dinner you noticed that he barely talked, mostly just humming or saying filler words like “oh really?”.

if all those things weren’t enough for you to see how tired he was, the dark circles under his eyes certainly were.

that’s why after he took a quick shower, you immediately took you both to your bedroom to sleep, pulling him in your arms so his head was resting on your chest and scratching his head just the way you knew he loved whenever you did it.

the poor boy fell asleep in the matter of minutes, squeezing you to death, almost as if he was seeking your comfort for him to be able to float away and into the dreamland.

you didn’t feel offended by his behaviour, or as some might interpret it, ignorance, but rather you felt your heart break for your boyfriend. even after the most tiring days he usually still had enough energy to spend a little quality time with you. so you knew that he must’ve been beyond his limit and that he was deadly exhausted.

which proved to be right when even after 11 hours he still hasn’t woken up yet.

knowing he will wake up sooner or later, you decided to make him breakfast, just something simple that won’t overwhelm him.

and like clockwork, the door of your bedroom opens and in comes your boyfriend, shirtless and with puffy eyes, blindly and directly going towards you.

“good morning baby”, you wish him just as he reaches you. your boyfriend just grunts in response as he wraps his arms around your waist from behind, rubbing his face against your shoulder.

the difference in the grunts he was letting out as a response yesterday and the one he just let out isn’t all that big, but still you can tell how much better he’s feeling. it’s actually because his presence feels lighter today-more at peace.

chan just continues to hug you and rub his face against your shoulder, making you smile gently.

“slept well?”, you ask him gently. your boyfriend-expectedly- just grunts in response, making you chuckle lightly.

he, in response, kisses your cheek sweetly, mumbling ‘i love you’ with his lips still pressed against your skin.

deciding to give your boyfriend your full attention, you turn in his arms, your own automatically wrapping themselves around his neck, fingers playing with the back of his hair, a few weeks of growth being noticeable due to its length.

dino, bless his heart, can barely see you with his puffy eyes, just slowly blinking at you. not being able to resist his cuteness, you lean in and leave a gentle peck on his lips, your hands sliding down to rest on his bare shoulders.

your boyfriend hums deeply in response, unconsciously pulling you closer. after a second, your lips naturally fall apart.

chan blinks his eyes open, your beautiful face being the first thing his sight falls onto, and it overwhelms him a little bit.

knowing that he has somebody to come home to, but not only that, a somebody who he can come home to and be in a bad mood without them taking it personally and starting a fight about it, but instead taking care of him with such gentleness…it makes his body feel like it’s brimming with love, almost overflowing. sometimes it got so overwhelmingly big that he didn’t know what to do with it, a sense of panic washing over him.

like right now.

“i’m sorry if i was in a weird mood yesterday. it’s just that practice was a lot, and the tour is nearing with everyday, everyone was feeling irritated and so we all fought a lot, hoshi-hyung had a scream-off match with coups-hyung and it was all just-“.

before he can continue, you just put your finger on his lips to shut him up.

“do you feel better now?”, is the only thing you ask him in return.

chan, confused, just nods his head in response.

it seems like that’s all the confirmation you needed because you smile gently at him, leaning in to peck his lips again.

“then that’s all i need to know”, you finish.

and dino isn’t sure where the words come from, nor when the thought itself appeared in his mind, but all he responds with is.

“marry me. like, for real. be mine. and let me be yours. forever.”

to say that his words got you shocked is an understatement. but no matter how shocked you felt, answering a question of his never felt as easy as answering this one.

“of course i will.”

it didn’t matter that he didn’t have a ring (or a shirt for that matter), or that it was unplanned and that it was just you two present for it.

it all felt perfect to you.

it felt like home.

#seventeen #svt #svt x reader #fypシ #tumblr fyp #fypage #dino seventeen #dino x reader #dino x you #dino x y/n

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wholoveseggs · 6 months

Note

I also have another one!! I’d love to see like Rebekahs friend(the reader) and Elijah’s love story. Like how they met(maybe in the Victorian age or Viking) and just them through the eras! If that is something you would be interested in doing! Like no problems just a cute little thing about their story through the time 💕💕 as always no pressure 💕

Worth the wait

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List}

You and Elijah are childhood friends, dipping in and out of each others lives for the past one thousand years. You hope that one day you will have a chance to be together and find the love you've always longed for.

♡♡ Thanks for the requests @ashloring & @loving-and-dreaming I got these requests back to back and I thought they were perfect combined together. Sorry it took so long, I really wanted to do this story justice... hopefully it is... ♡♡

7.1k words - Warnings: smut, angst, reminiscing, playful sex, Elijah being very silly and sappy.

You were always fated to love him from afar. From the first moment you ever laid eyes on Elijah — you knew deep down that you would love him as long as you lived. What you didn't know was how long that would be.

You grew up together in a quaint viking village, learning to hunt and forage. He pushed you around, pulled your braids and teased you. You gave back as much as you got, biting and scratching until you were both on the ground tousling around in a full blown battle to prove who was the winner.

The nature of your play fighting changed when you became teenagers, arms still grabbing, but now holding a little bit longer, hands lingering, brushing one anothers faces. Eyes meeting, always with a blush and hasty awkward parting.

When his mother caught you laying on his bed together, fully clothed with a few shy pecks here and there, she sent you away. From that point on, you barely spoke, too embarrassed and flustered to communicate.

You grew up and grew apart, watching him and his family from afar. There was always a darkness over the Mikaelson household, a lingering sense of unease that kept everyone in the village back.

Still the sight of him was enough to brighten your day. Even though you stayed far away from him and his family, Elijah often found you sitting near him, the two of you were simply drawn to each other.

Life was perfect and peaceful until one night, screams echoed in the darkness, sending you from the safety of your bed. It was coming from his home, so you quickly grabbed the only weapon you could find and ran towards the sound.

What you found was beyond anything you could imagine, death and magic combined as the family mutated into a monster to rival the ones of mythological tales.

Esther spotted you and forced you to your knees, laying beside Elijah's body as she began her spell. Once you were tied by mystical cords you didn't understand, she muttered the same incantations she had spoken over each of her children.

That was your last night as a human, the last night you were alive.

Life as an original vampire was unexpected, it came with anger, lust, bloodlust, and unmatched supernatural strength that took adjusting.

Luckily you weren't entirely alone, you had the Mikaelson siblings, teaching each other, being patient, especially Elijah. Together you mastered every nuance in becoming the strongest predator there was.

While you may have been turned against your will, you quickly accepted this new existence. The freedom that came with an endless future proved rewarding with each sunrise.

But soon the prospect of an endless future turned into a curse and you learned the only true enemy of an original was time itself.

Eternity felt hollow as you watched every friend you made grow old and die while you were forced to continue on. Leaving you, haunted and depressed with no escape in sight.

And the only group of people who understood your plight suffered from their own problems. You spent your first five hundred years with them, moving around from country to country before you needed to take a long break from them.

You hoped that Elijah would always keep his heart, stay gentle and kind, but that was impossible. He matured into someone cunning and ruthless, his humanity slowly slipping away, tainted by the brutalities of this life.

The constant bickering, hateful arguments and petty jealousy between them drove you away. After those years you decided to live independently, only visiting the Mikaelson's every couple centuries, trying your best to keep hold of your humanity, while feeling lost in the ever flowing sea of time.

You sat out front a quiet little cafe, sipping on a espresso and browsing your phone. Modern technology was still such a trip to you, just one change after another in an impossible to keep up with world. Everyday some new gadget popped up.

You remembered a time when it took weeks to travel from one place to another. For a letter to make its way took months. And now you could press a button on the piece of glass in your hand and have a face to face conversation with someone on the other side of the world.

It was fascinating, these human inventions that filled their mundane lives. You envied how enraptured they were in their invented distractions. Not everything changed, humans were still so desperate for a simple illusion to fill the boredom of the days drudgery.

But today wasn't an ordinary day for you, today you had a date. Or at least, you wanted it to be a date, Elijah probably saw it as just meeting up with an old friend.

He sat down across from you, handsome as ever, elegant and charming, just as you remembered. Dressed in a black suit, the perfect mix of old fashioned and contemporary.

But when he smiled at you, all your trepidation melted away. It was the same familiar smile you fell in love with, holding that bright twinkle in his eyes and showing off those dimples.

"It's been a while," he said with a faint smile.

"Just a little," you smirked playfully.

He always had the same mannerisms, crossing his legs and holding his body with poise. However in the centuries you spent around him, you learned all his tells. The way he always touched his face when uncomfortable, his tendency to play with his hands.

"How have you been?" he asked, leaning back in his seat as he ordered a cup of coffee.

He politely thanked the waitress that delivered it, before taking a sip, his dark eyes set intensely on yours.

"Me, oh I've been..." you let your voice trail off for a moment, swallowing the memories that threatened to steal your poise.

But Elijah knew what you were thinking, not having seen one another for so long, the memories of the last time you saw eachother tried to force their way back to the front of your mind.

It was the 1950s, and you ran into him in New York of all places. It was the first time you thought you actually had a real chance with him, but he was plagued by his missing siblings, his rage at his brother turned him into a man you barely recognized.

Watching him torture people for information, murdering innocent bystanders didn't seem out of the ordinary anymore, this new Elijah was beyond ruthless. He was a man devoted only to killing his enemies.

Today he seemed far different, poised and kind. The Elijah you fell in love with as a girl had somehow resurfaced and seemed quite eager to make your acquaintance. Or perhaps you just wanted to see him as the man you have always loved, a possibility of a future with him you always dreamed of.

"I guess we haven't really kept in touch," you murmured softly. "I've been off doing my thing and I've missed you more than words could say. Though... you obviously haven't missed me, being so busy playing king of the vampires," you teased him.

"Well someone has to keep the order," he said with a smirk.

"And you think you're the best man for the job?" you raised your brows.

His gaze met yours, he couldn't help the nostalgia that built up in him. Seeing you staring at him, reminded of the times when he first fell in love with you. He had both just turned thirteen and it was like he was seeing you for the first time, dancing around the fire with ribbons in your hair. All the times he would look at you, getting flustered, only to see you looking back at him with the same unspoken feeling between you.

"Well it's either me or Niklaus," Elijah answered as he took a drink.

"Fair enough," you laughed softly and sighed.

Elijah loved that laugh, the way it made your eyes light up. His heart melted, seeing you looking so beautiful. He never stood a chance, you could have your pick of any man, ones who would worship the ground you walked on, ones that could give you a happy life.

"I trust the family is doing well?" you asked with an even gaze.

He nodded. "I have a niece now, Hope. She's brought light back into my family," he smiled slightly.

You loved seeing him this way, happy and hopeful, exactly the way it should be.

"I can't believe it, Niklaus a father. Angels weep," you jested with a laugh.

"Well sometimes you have to set aside your misgivings and make room for surprises," he smirked.

"Spoken like a true mediator," you replied, toasting him with your mug.

You talked for what seemed like forever, catching up on lost time, simply taking in one another's presence. His gaze lingered on you, admiring your confidence. You've always had that glow, drawing everyone in with your easy nature.

"Now tell me, how was your time in Paris?" Elijah asked curiously.

"Has Elijah Mikaelson been keeping tabs on me?" You teased him and laughed.

"I've managed to keep track of a few things," he smirked.

"Nothing you didn't already know, I've spent the past few decades indulging in one thing or another," you answered honestly. "Wine, art, food, sex…”

"How do I fall into those categories?" he chuckled, cocking his head to the side.

"Hmmm, I want to say art but I don't want to feed your ego, so wine it is," you grinned.

"Not sex?" he questioned with a grin.

You shrugged and sipped on your drink, trying to conceal the hot blush spreading over your skin.

"I wouldn't know, now, would I?" you teased him.

It was meant to be a question, that's what you intended, however it came out as an admission and you winced slightly, embarrassed that your nerves were starting to take over.

Elijah loved flirting with you, it felt different than with anyone else, there was something about it, like he was doing it for the first time, all nerves and awkwardness. He saw the flush and pink in your cheeks, the same sweet little blush from a thousand years ago, he knew you felt the same way.

"Would you like to?" he asks curiously.

"Please, Elijah..." you laughed off his question.

You shuffled in your seat nervously. Not believing that Elijah had actually seen the potential for romance. He was just teasing, friendly banter between old friends.

"How's your dating life?" You asked, steering the conversation away from the uncomfortableness you were feeling.

"You're asking me out?" he smirked.

"Fuck off," you chuckled playfully. "I was only going to ask if you are still pinning after Katherine," you teased.

"Now who's keeping tabs?" He countered with a smile.

"Do you blame me? C'mon, give me all the delicious gossip."

"Well.. I finally found her. We had lots of sex, then I dumped her," he quipped.

"Oh my, Elijah, a heartbreaker," you smirked.

"Yes, that's me. Now you, I've always wondered who you were with?" Elijah brought the attention back to you, waiting for an explanation.

You rolled your eyes and relaxed into the chair. "Men, women, witches, werewolves…” you joked.

"Not sex, I meant love. Did you meet anyone that holds your heart?" He clarified, fiddling with his hands under the table, both excited and nervous to hear what you had to say.

You got a little flustered and swallowed, shrugging it off as nothing. There was no one. You certainly met some contenders over the years, but no one came close to the man that sat across from you.

"Love is exhausting," you replied casually. "Much like everything in this life, it's all the same. At the end of the day, you're left feeling empty."

He listened. He understood what you mean, eternity can feel so empty. But he felt an optimism when he was around you, no longer did he feel chained to life, to time.

"I don't agree," he murmured softly, "I think you just haven't found it yet."

"Elijah, c'mon," you laughed a bit and shook your head.

It seemed as though every date you had in the last ten centuries paled in comparison. When you were with him it just felt different, it wasn't lust, or an insatiable need to be around him. It was peace, it was comfort, he felt like home and it was special.

"No, really," he paused and smiled softly. "C'mon, lets go for a walk, I'll show you," he stood up, reaching his hand towards you.

You stood, and began walking, chatting about old times. He reminded you of the day you spent together in 1599 where you saw Shakespeare's Julius Caesar at the Globe theater, both of you sitting up in the rafters with the best view there was.

One thing led to another and the two of you ended up chasing one another all around the city, drinking far too much rum and dramatically reenacting the stabbing in a fit of giggles.

You reminded him of the time in the 1650s in Spain where you witnessed a beautiful redhead attempt to flirt with him by twirling her fan and covering half her face. It just resulted in the both of you mocking her mercilessly, a small giggle escaped your lips when you remembered his laughter.

"She was so in love with you, but could barely hold a conversation with you, what was her name? The one with all the freckles," you chuckled.

"Ugh... not Silvia. I haven't thought about her in a very long time. Fortunately she went and married some merchant banker and left me alone," he chucked, guiding you towards a nearby garden.

You walked down a tree-shaded path, crossing a bridge over a trickling creek, and past the playground where children giggled as they played. Elijah led you towards a gazebo, passing by an elderly couple enjoying a lazy Sunday afternoon.

"I thought you were going to show me how to find love?" you teased, elbowing him playfully.

He chuckled and put his arm around your shoulder, pulling you close against him.

"Look at them over there, two people growing old together," he said softly, nodding towards the couple."That's a beautiful story right there, it goes from meeting, to dating, to falling in love, to having a marriage full of ups and downs. Every difficult time, every disagreement, every moment of compassion and reassurance is enough to have them stay together." He looked at you, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

You listened closely, hanging on every word, studying his expression. Looking up at him as the sunlight came shining through the leafy branches of the trees.

"I bet if we asked them they would tell us the secret to it all," you said quietly, looking back over at the little old couple.

They were wrapped up in their own world, swaying ever so slightly to the soft music playing nearby. Their love for one another so bright.

Elijah stood and walked over to them, sitting down on the bench next to him. You paused for a moment and then followed him, moving to the empty spot beside him.

"Excuse me," Elijah spoke in a voice hushed and sincere. "We just wanted to know," he continued, gently compelling them to answer, "what is the secret of love?"

"Well, I guess, patience," the woman answered sweetly.

The man slowly blinked, his head cocking to the side as he answered, "trust, communication, passion..."

"What is your favorite memory together?" You asked politely, leaning forward.

They looked at one another and burst into hearty, genuine laughter.

"Doing dishes, long drives, waking up to breakfast in bed, cuddling under a blanket in the winter, or just a hug after a bad day..." she answered wistfully.

"All the quiet moments in-between, like coming home after a hard day of work and changing into our comfy clothes," he paused and grabbed her hand, "putting on a movie and just ordering in. We can lay there in one another's arms, always together in that bubble of comfort."

You smiled softly. There's something about the simplicity of it, and the sheer joy in doing those things with the one you love. The ordinary and everyday.

Elijah glanced over at you with a smile, then thanked the couple.

"Thank you, you've been wonderful," Elijah finished kindly.

"I hope you and your lady are just as happy as we are," the man said, turning to kiss his wife lovingly on the cheek.

"I'm sure of it," Elijah stood up and began walking away, holding his hand out for you.

You stood up and intertwined your fingers with his, giving his hand a squeeze as you mouthed a thank you towards the elderly man.

"Does that answer your question? Love just happens and it's imperfectly wonderful," Elijah said simply.

"Have you ever found a love like that?" you asked curiously.

He paused and a thoughtful expression fell over his face, wondering where to begin. He placed his hand over yours, stroking the back of your knuckles as he looked deep into your eyes, confessing a feeling he's hidden all this time.

"Only once, when I was too young to understand what I had," he admitted softly. "We were only children then."

Your heart began to beat faster, hearing him say it out loud made your breath hitch in your throat.

"And what about now?" You asked in a near whisper, afraid of what he would say, but unable to live without the answer.

He grinned and suddenly scooped you up, throwing you over his shoulder, just like when you would play flight as children.

You squealed and laughed out in delight.

"What are you doing?" You giggled loudly, slapping his back, but he simply ignored you.

"Reminiscing," he answered swiftly.

"This is hardly reminiscing," you teased.

"To me it is, with you in my arms, laughing," he added cheekily.

You were incredibly flustered, but you didn't want this to stop. It was silly, and unexpected and made you think about all the times you two were together as children. It made you feel as you always did with him, free, alive, all nerves and blushing and awkward touches.

So you just rested your chin against him and giggled loudly as you watched the ground pass by underneath you.

"Where are you taking me?" you questioned softly.

He smiled and didn't answer, biting his lip as he tightened his grip on you.

It didn't take long for you to spot the bridge you walked over, carrying you out onto the sidewalk outside the gardens.

He pulled you up and set you back on your feet, both of you giggling breathlessly, your hands on his chest, his hands on your waist.

The two of you stood there for a moment, eyes scanning one another's face, catching your breaths and gazing longingly. His gaze focused on your lips, while yours focused on his eyes, the fondness in them made your cheeks heat up.

His grip tightened around you, your hands fisting in his shirt as he closed the distance, capturing your lips in a tender kiss.

You swore you could have floated away that moment. His hands cradled your face as you pulled him closer. Your lips parting for him as he deepened the kiss.

You pulled away from the kiss after a moment. "Can we talk about that for a minute?" you said, your gaze fell away, finding it hard to meet his eyes, your heart felt like it would burst from the surges of love that came pouring out.

He shook his head and kissed you again, brushing his nose against yours, a smile across his lips.

"Lets not speak... lets keep kissing," he whispered with a soft laugh.

You smiled and closed your eyes, tilting your head back, enjoying the feel of him loving you after such a long time. The feel of his body against yours.

He broke the kiss, pressing his forehead to yours, closing his eyes and just taking a moment to enjoy your company. The feeling of your breath against his skin.

"So... let's talk," he smirked against your lips and traced his fingers down the side of your face.

He felt you nod. "Mmm, in bed," you murmured and stole another kiss.

"Okay," he nodded and swiftly scooped you into his arms.

"Nice place," you commented lightly as your eyes scanned over the art and furniture in the compound. "I can see you were in charge of the decor," you said cheekily.

He laughed. "Naturally, darling," he replied. "Klaus is always out for blood and I had to ensure it wasn't on every wall."

Elijah led you down a hallway to a lavish bedroom, opening the door and ushering you in, shutting it carefully behind him. He held you close, his hand on your waist, reaching up to brush a loose strand of hair from your face, tucking it behind your ear and pulling you in for a kiss.

"Do you remember the last time we were in bed together?" He asked softly.

"You brought me into your home under false pretenses, you said you were going to show me a dagger your father had," you replied, recalling the time you were teenagers, kissing in his bed, all nerves and eagerness.

"I really did want to show you that dagger, my intentions were innocent that evening," he protested lightly. "But then you laid down on my bed, making yourself at home, and there you were, wearing such a sweet little dress with such tantalizing seams all over."

"I can't believe you remember the dress I was wearing," you said, placing your hands on his chest and toying with the buttons of his shirt.

He chuckled. "I remember everything about that day," he smiled, "it was my first kiss, how could I not memorize every detail?"

"What else do you remember?" You asked softly, looking into his eyes.

"I remember laying down beside you, I was so nervous," he admitted softly. "We laid on our backs for a while, just chatting. Your hand brushed against mine and I wrapped my fingers with yours, scared you would push me away," he looked away, lost in the memory, smiling softly.

"I was so sure that you would, but you didn't and we grew quiet, all nerves, side by side." He looked back at you, a twinkle in his eye.

"We could hear the sounds of the village outside as it prepared for the feast. We laid there like that, my heart racing, thumb tracing your palm. I turned to face you, you wore this little shy smile. And there I was, frozen by the way you looked."

"Your hair was braided and those perfect lips were slightly parted," he cupped your cheek, grazing his thumb over your bottom lip. "I was terrified to mess it all up."

You were speechless, all you could do was smile and laugh softly. He began to guide you back towards his bed, still talking as he undressed you slowly, "But we laid there just staring, and gazing into each other's eyes. Slowly I leaned closer, so close we were breathing each other in, just sharing a breath, trying not to spook one another."

"And then, before I knew it, your lips found mine and all of my nervousness melted away. Slow, soft kisses, that little braid tickling my neck and the taste of the berries you had earlier still sweet on your lips."

You blushed at the memory, his words making you tear up, you couldn't believe he remembered.

"Your hands were shaking against my chest, so I lifted them to my lips," he stopped talking for a moment, reenacting the memory by kissing your hands once more.

"Then your mother walked in," you commented, smiling at his gesture.

He smirked against your skin. "Well, before she did," he began, he spoke softly as he slowly unzipped the back of your dress, letting it fall to your feet. "I was... learning the taste of your lips," he continued slowly. "They still taste the same, lovely and sweet,"

His eyes scanned over you, taking in the sight of the most beautiful woman in the world, right there in his room, standing there in nothing but a lacy black bra and underwear.

You smiled and tugged on the buttons of his shirt, eagerly undoing them and pushing his shirt off of his shoulders as you began kissing along his jaw.

"It feels like yesterday," you whispered, moaning against his lips as his hands went to your waist, his fingertips dancing over your skin.

The sensation tickled and made you giggle, trying to pull his hands away but that just sent a whole new wave of laughter bubbling out of you as he pulled you against him with a grin.

The two of you stumbled backwards to the edge of the bed, kissing deeply and continuing to undress each other as you fell onto the mattress in a fit of laughter.

He pinned you down, but you pushed him off, the two of you beginning to wrestle for the upper hand. You giggled and squealed as he tickled you mercilessly, kissing along your neck and biting playfully, all while his fingers danced and caressed over your stomach.

"Elijah, STOP! Hahaha," you pleaded, squirming beneath him. "Stop stop," you laughed.

"What's wrong, my little love," he asked playfully, grabbing your wrists in his hand and pinning them above your head.

You kissed him quickly, grinning when he released you, "Let me breathe!" you said with a laugh.

He smiled warmly, glancing down at your smiling lips. "You make me feel like a teenager again," he admitted softly, then began tickling your sides again, catching you off guard.

You squealed, squirming in his grip and playfully struggling to break free. You could feel his erection brushing against you, his hips pressing between your thighs as he continued to attack you.

"Eli!” You gasped, wriggling your body under him, wrapping your legs around his waist and flipping him over onto his back.

He was laughing along with you, his breathing heavy as he settled beneath you, grinning up at you. “I surrender, you have bested me,” he said, looking up at you in awe.

You smiled and sat back on his lap, "oh don't give me that cheeky grin," you replied, wrinkling your nose at him.

His hands fell to your thighs, squeezing them as he smiled. You rocked your hips slowly, grinding yourself on his cock. He moaned softly, his mouth hung open as he watched the way you moved above him. Your lace panties rubbing over the rough material of his pants.

"I've dreamed of this for centuries," he confessed in a whisper. "You on my lap, your hands on me, the beauty of your body..."

Your eyes glanced down as he spoke, admiring his abs and the V-shaped muscles running down below his waistband. You made eye contact and started to slowly unhook your bra, letting it fall to the ground before tossing it to the floor.

He groaned softly, admiring the softness of your breasts and the perk of your nipples. You caught him staring and smiled, taking his hands into yours and placing them on you, urging him to touch you.

He sat up, capturing a nipple between his lips, leaving a trail of kisses along your breasts, cupping and massaging them in his hands. He kissed up your chest to your neck and found your lips again, kissing you slowly and passionately. He broke the kiss, glancing into your eyes with a look of raw, aching love.

"You know what would have happened if my mother didn't walk in?" He murmured, keeping his voice low and hushed, nearly a whisper.

You simply shook your head.

"I would've put my head between these thighs," he continued, squeezing them in his strong hands. "I would've made you giggle and squirm until you surrendered to my lips," he grabbed your hips and rocked you along his length, making your breath hitch in your throat.

"You would've gotten me pregnant," you chuckled, thinking back to how naive and innocent the two of you were, no idea of the consequences of what you had been attempting.

He smiled and grabbed your face gently, "then I would have made you my wife," he grinned and leaned forward, whispering against your lips, "and we would have grown old together, watching our little ones run through the village... a full happy life," he kissed you again.

He tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear. "I always dreamed of waking up to your beautiful face every morning," he said softly. “Perhaps if time and circumstances treated us kindly…”

You felt a little sad at his words, imagining the perfect little life you could have had together. "I would have liked that," you said slowly, gazing into his kind eyes.

You held a gaze with him for a moment before kissing him again, reaching down to his pants, unbuttoning them with slow, careful movements. He watched as you tugged them down and off of his legs and then lowered down to kiss him again, rubbing your core against his length.

He pulled your panties to the side, tracing his fingers over your clit, rubbing it with slow and loving circles.

You broke the kiss, your forehead pressed against his, your eyes shut tightly as he pleasured you, massaging your clit with expertise. "‘lijah...," you let out a little moan. "Where did you learn that?"

He grinned, biting his lip as he watched the pleasure on your face. "I've been practicing with all these other women, waiting to have a chance with you." He replied.

You opened your eyes, an expression of faux hurt painted across your face. "Are you trying to say I was your last resort?"

He grabbed the back of your neck with a playful smirk, "you are my only choice, my love," he guided you back to his lips and kissed you deeply, his free hand cupping your ass, tugging you against him.

"Only choice," you repeated between kisses, grinding on his fingers as he pleased you.

"I love you, it was only ever you," he declared, his eyes scanning your face with intensity.

You smiled and stole another kiss from him. "Then, prove it," you whispered against his lips.

He grinned and pulled his hand away, suddenly ticking your sides again and making you laugh and whimper out playfully as he flipped you over onto your back.

You were laughing uncontrollably, grinning as you kissed him back while he tickled you. You gasped for air and submitted beneath him as he kissed and nipped his way down your body.

Finally, he made his way to your core, hooking a finger under the lace and pulling your panties down. He tossed them to the floor and dove in, draping your thighs over his shoulders, burying his mouth into you.

You gasped, laughing as you fell back onto the mattress, rocking your hips against him. He grinned up at you as he swiped his tongue over your clit.

"Allll these women, practice, and nothing to show for it," you sighed as you teased him, breathy and laced with laughter.

He looked up, a flash of competitiveness crossing his face as he eased two fingers inside you and nipped at the sensitive bundle of nerves.

Your teasing was replaced with mewls and moans as you ran your fingers through his hair and rode his tongue, soft curses and whispered pleas were all you managed to get out.

He closed his eyes and took his time, one hand around your thigh, stroking circles over your skin, while his tongue and fingers worked in union. He couldn't believe he had you, right here, and he intended to make you feel every bit of love he had to offer.

He smirked against your heat as you tightened your grip on his hair, pulling him closer, grinding your hips against his mouth. He has dreamed of this moment for one thousand years, but the real thing was so much better than he had ever imagined.

You trembled and squeezed your legs around him, moaning and gasping as you were pulled closer to your climax. He urged you on as you fucked his mouth, whimpering softly, your free hand bunched up the bed sheets.

The stimulation was too much as he hummed and sucked your clit, your body shaking from the intensity of your orgasm. Your thighs gripped his head like a vice and your body stiffened as you cried out his name, digging your heels into the bed to try and ride it out on his mouth.

You tugged his head away, panting and trying to regain control of your body, your head still spinning.

You gasped and laughed, covering your face.

He smirked, as he wiped his mouth on your thigh.

You smiled down at him, "okay…maybe one thousand years was enough time to gain some skill," you chuckled, pulling him close for a kiss.

His hands trailed over your breasts, slowly kneading them and rolling your nipples between his fingers. You mewled softly against his lips, your nails digging into his shoulders.

He kissed your forehead, your nose and along your jaw, sucking a hickey into the side of your neck, watching it instantly heal. He could do this forever, tasting your skin and listening to the perfect little sounds you made.

You pushed gently on his chest, urging him to lay down, which he did happily, holding your hand as he laid on his back.

You peppered kisses down his neck to his chest, biting at his firm chest muscles and kissing down his toned abs, making your way to his erection.

"I've learned some skills as well," you teased, pressing kisses up the side of his length, placing a final kiss to the tip.

He groaned softly, smiling down at you, "oh really? I'd love to see that," he whispered encouragingly.

You opened your mouth slowly and lowered down, taking him all the way into your mouth. He moaned softly, tilting his head back and biting his lip as his fingers tangled in your hair.

You swirled your tongue around him, using the tips of your fingers to stroke the base, glancing up to watch the way his body reacted to your movements.

His lips were parted, his eyes shut. As his breathing grew ragged he smiled softly, letting his head fall back against the pillows as you pleasured him.

You hummed, bobbing up and down along his shaft, savoring the sweet sounds that left his throat.

He began to tug on your hair, taking handfuls as you quickened the pace, licking and sucking enthusiastically, slurping as you sucked on the tip.

You released his cock with a pop, stroking and pumping him in your hand, using your spit to keep it slick. You traced your thumb over the head, tapping him against your tongue.

He moaned softly, gripping the headboard with his free hand, slowly bucking his hips.

You took him in again, one final time, swirling your tongue, bobbing and sucking, pushing him all the way down your throat.

He let out a long, sexy groan as he reached his peak. "Yes, darling, yes... just like that...I'm-" he grunted, before spilling over your tongue with a deep, guttural moan.

You swallowed, licking and sucking him, milking him completely before pulling off. He stared down at you, his face was clenched and contorted, an expression of pure pleasure painted across his features. Then he sat up slowly pulling you against him in a messy kiss.

"How was that?" You asked softly against his lips.

He grinned against your mouth and kissed you again, cradling your face. "I don't think there are words that could describe...," he took a moment to catch his breath before continuing, his eyes lidded, still high on his climax. "How much I love you," he whispered against your lips.

"I bet you say that to every girl that has given you good head," you teased.

He furrowed his brow, watching your little grin. "Do you think I use that word lightly?... I love you, only you...," he pressed his forehead to yours and closed his eyes.

You ran your fingers through his hair, studying his features as you smiled.

"I love you too, Elijah," you whispered, pressing a slow, caring kiss to his lips.

You found yourself suddenly overwhelmed with love, with the memory of all the lost time you had missed with him. Tears formed in your eyes as you kissed him, causing him to break the kiss.

He studied your expression with worry. "What's the matter?" He asked softly.

"I don't want to miss another day," you replied, brushing away your tears, a goofy smile across your face.

He smiled at you with a chuckle. "Well, darling, we just have one thousand years of catching up to do," he said softly, wiping away your tears. "Not to mention all the other days to come after,"

You let out a little laugh as he pulled you into his arms, his strong hands roaming over your curves as he flipped you back underneath him.

"I can't wait," you said breathlessly, pulling him down for a passionate kiss.

Elijah smiled against your lips and kept one hand at your waist as he dragged the tip of his cock over your pussy, drenched from the pleasure and anticipation. He eased in slowly, sinking inside your warm center and muffling a groan against your neck. You let out a soft sigh, feeling so complete now that you were finally connected.

He lifted his head and gazed into your eyes, placing a hand against your cheek as he started to thrust slowly. He was quiet as he rolled his hips, his gaze flickering between watching his cock slowly sliding in and out of you, covered in your wetness, and you, biting your lip, your eyes squeezed shut as he filled you.

You moaned at his size, already sensitive from your last orgasm, the stretch felt amazing, your nails digging into his firm muscles. His large hands were clutched around your hips, steadying you as he fucked you in a slow, gentle pace.

"Listen to you," he grinned, "making such beautiful sounds for me," he praised, nipping at your ear.

His words went straight to your core as your breathing grew raspy, squeezing his cock so tightly that you pushed him out of you, moaning quietly.

"Mmm," he bit his lip, tapping his cock against your clit and then ran it back and forth over your wetness, admiring the view before guiding his cock back into you. "I didn't hurt you, did I?" He asked softly, dropping a kiss to your forehead.

You shook your head, your eyes still shut. "No, you are just...very well-endowed, that's all," you giggled..

He rocked inside you for a moment, his hands gripping your hips. "Should I stop?" He whispered.

"Don't you dare stop, you owe me one thousand years of this," you cupped his cheek, pulling his face to yours, pressing your lips together.

"Who am I to deny you?" He kissed you slowly, his tongue danced with yours as he found his rhythm again, thrusting deep, his hands holding your thighs open.

He bit your lip and gazed at you, still not totally believing the vision of beauty beneath him.

The pure sexual lust that had built up between you paired with the overflowing love you felt for each other, made everything more intense. Your orgasms building, the clench around his length, the grip of your hands on his muscles. It felt like time had stopped for you both, existing only in the carnal moment you were sharing.

He moaned as you tightened around him, pushing your knees up to your waist to deepen his thrust. He trailed one hand down your soft skin and ran a thumb over your swollen clit, rubbing it in slow, tender circles.

You gasped and whimpered out his name, you were so sensitive and yet were so close to tumbling over again, "please, don't stop," you whispered urgently, a pleading look in your eyes.

He pressed a kiss to your forehead, and continued rubbing your clit, rolling his hips, giving you long, passionate strokes.

"That's it, that's it," he whispered through grunts. "Just like that, my darling," he breathed, lowering down to kiss you.

The love you made was passionate and sweet, soft and timid. It felt like it was all meant to be, pure, passionate love, made only for each other.

He used all his willpower to hold back his own, wanting to feel you release around him. Your body slowly stiffened, squeezing around his length, making him moan deeply. He didn't stop moving, encouraging you with gentle words in your ear and kisses to your cheek.

He couldn't hold on any longer, feeling you twitch, your mouth hung open in a silent moan as you reached your peak. A quiet, guttural groan rumbled deep in his chest as he spilled his warm cum inside you.

He pressed his forehead to yours as he breathed heavily, whispering sweet praises and confessions as you both held one another, sharing small and gentle kisses.

He rolled on to his side, bringing you with him, keeping you connected and moving your thigh over his hip to bury himself deeper. Neither of you wanted to let go of the feeling of being joined.

He snaked one arm behind your back to draw you even closer, and reached the other up to brush your hair out of your face. He kissed you deeply and ran his fingertips over your soft skin, moving them up and down your back as you looked into one another's eyes.

"That was..." you sighed happily.

"Yeah..." He smiled softly and let his eyes wander over your features, as if trying to sear it into his brain.

"I can't believe we waited so long to do this," you whispered, stroking your hands up and down his arms.

"Our days of waiting are over," he smiled softly, leaning down to kiss you again. His mouth on yours, swallowing your little moans, his fingers stroking your sides, both of you completely consumed by the other.

The room was dimly lit, candle flames casting a warm glow around you. Time finally gave you a break, let you have this moment you both were longing for all these years.

He loved you. You loved him, and now you were finally together. After one thousand years, it was well worth the wait.

♡♡ Tag-List ♡♡

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♡ @meeom ♡ @damienmorton ♡ @wickedmuse ♡ @sunkissedebony97 ♡ @idk00sblog ♡ @savannaounana ♡ @cs-please ♡ complicatedandconfusing-25 @hamiltimes ♡ @akala6670229 ♡ @yeaiamme2 ♡ @itsjulzandmydiamonds ♡ @spideysbabe

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kurogxrix · 1 year

Text

Rust In Peace

Hobie Brown x Reader

IN WHICH a day in with your boyfriend Hobie turns into a play fight. However he often tends to forget how strong he actually is, and you suffer the consequences.

[ request ]

“That game’s rubbish, ain’t no spider movin’ like that i’m telling ya’” the deep sound of your boyfriend’s voice made you jump, nearly making you drop your controller as he appeared from seemingly nowhere. Obviously he didn't, because his dripping hair and loosely tied towel that threatened to fall off of his waist told you otherwise.

“How would you know that this is not how spiders move?” you rolled your eyes playfully at him, tone dripping with sarcasm as you turned back around to face the small TV screen.

“Ha. Ha. Funny.” Your boyfriend muttered out in a dry tone, much to your amusement. Hobie made his way towards you, both of your backs pressed comfortably against your couch as you sat on the floor. His hair dripped water everywhere, wetting your shoulder as you voiced out your complaints.

The loud sounds of your playstation probably overheating went deaf to his ears as he stared at you. His attention derived from the “Spider-Man 2” game that was currently running on the screen that you seemed so interested in. Without warning, Hobie threw an arm around you, pulling you flushed against his side as he laid his head above yours.

You paused your game immediately as you felt the wet sensation of Hobie’s hair drenching your own curls, creating a wet spot all the way down to the sleeves that covered your shoulders. The shirt wasn’t even yours in fact, the white ‘Misfits’ skull over the black fabric was evidently Hobie’s.

“God, Hobie move!” you yelled, half laughing and half serious as you tried to pry yourself out of his undying grip. Though the man only continued to pull you closer to him, this time, he pointed his hair towards you in an aim of intentionally getting you drenched. Your struggling only got the both of you shuffling along your apartment’s floor, entangling your limps with the unfortunate wires that were lying besides you both.

You could’ve sworn that Hobie had started tickling you at some point, or maybe you’d started laughing louder out of nowhere. You’d never know, Hobie just seemed to have that effect on people. He was everything that’d make a woman giggle, let alone laugh hysterically like you were right now. He was charming and a little bit tough spoken at times, two different natures that clashed together in the most attractive mix possible.

“Oh ya’ want me to move? Sure i’ll move for you sweetheart.” Before you could even register what was happening, his arms unlatched from your shoulders as you back hit the ground with a thud. You managed to save your head from hitting the floor, despite his move being unexpected. You nearly wanted to smash a vase into your boyfriend's face at the sound of his laughter, and damn did his move just declare an open war.

You sat up straight, hair chaotically out of place as you tried to puff it back to what it used to resemble. You crawled quietly towards the sofa as Hobie watched you between narrow eyes, he was no stranger to your intentions.

“I wouldn’t do that if i was you, darlin’' he spoke, but you paid no mind to it as a pillow came flying towards his face. Plainly missing him because of your shitty aim, Hobie’s expression contorted to one of amusement once more. With heavy footsteps, Hobie approached you with a near-maliciouslook in his eyes. And like a prey to a beast, you found yourself being enabled to move.

Soon enough, his large palms were at your sides. His calloused fingers slide underneath your shirt to grip at your naked skin, the rough skin of his hands itching at your own. Without a further warning, Hobie hoisted you onto his shoulders without much difficulty. You struggled in his arms, trying desperately to escape his hold despite the wide smile that occupied your features. A smile that mirrored his own.

To the open eye, it was odd to see a genuine smile gracing the man’s face. If anything, the maximum they’d receive was a cunning smirk or that sly grin of his. Though you were glad to be blessed with the ability to witness such a scene, it made you feel special - and in Hobie’s heart; you were.

Out of nowhere, you felt Hobie’s arms tighten around your middle, forcing a grunt out of you. Your blindness to the situation - given that you were literally facing the opposite side that your boyfriend currently was - made you unaware of his direction. You felt stupid for being unable to detect his route, because this was your own home. His spaced steps made it hard for you to even get a stable look at your surroundings, and unfortunately for you, you had arrived in your bedroom before you could even decipher.

He threw you rather disgracefully against your own bed, making the mattress recoil under the sheer force of his throw. Before you could even fully register things, the tall punk was hovering right atop of you. The sight of the setting sun’s orange hue hitting his dark skin was something that you’d wish to engrave in your brain forever. He was beautiful, an art piece sculpted in some sort of grungy museum itself. Though the sore sight of him made you breathless, for now you had a boyfriend to fight, so it could wait.

His hands attacked you first, finding your sore spots as he tickled you unrelentlessly. God and if you couldn’t breathe from the sight of him before, you most probably couldn’t now. With both your hands at his shoulders and feet at his waist, you attempted to push him off, but damn was he sturdy.

He wouldn’t move, stuck there like a damned plank as he continued to tickle you.

You were laughing, sure, and it was all fun and games until Hobie moved you up by the waist, the top of your head colliding painfully against your headboard. The pain was so unexpected that it took you a moment to react, simply lying there as your chest heaved up and down, trying to catch your breath.

Then, it all hit you. The awful throbbing that came as an aftermath of the hit. The staggering tingle that it left behind as it felt like your brain was having some sort of disco party in there. Then finally came the tears that prickled in your eyes involuntarily, and the unnecessary additional pain that came with you biting your lips and you tried to stop the tears from escaping. Damn did it hurt so bad but you couldn’t even blame Hobie because you knew that it wasn’t his fault.

It came to times like this where Hobie could forget how his spider-man powers enhanced his senses, thus including his strength that was already great before.

“Shit!” he muttered, his brain circuiting ever since he’d heard the loud thud that resonated around the whole room. Hobie had already climbed off of you by now, deciding that It’d be better if he sat besides you for now. He was too ashamed to meet your eyes after that, and it'd make a damn funny scene to you if you weren’t currently suffering. He watched as you cradled your head, eyes closed shut and your jaw tense as your teeth were clanged shut together.

“ ‘M sorry love, didn't think i’d send you up this forcefully.” he apologised genuinely, making a sliver of a smile raise onto your face. It wasn’t often that Hobie did apologise, and hearing him do it now made you feel more things that you wished you did. After a couple of seconds, you felt a pair of warm hands cupping your head. One placed itself on the side of your head, grazing your hairline with his thumb. The other one settled to cradle your head from behind, pressing painfully against your injury.

If it were for anyone else’s eyes right now, they’d judge you for being frail or sensitive. But no one else in this universe apart from the bad-guys knew how painful it was to be sent back by the one and only (not really only, considering they all meet everyday) Spider-Man. Additionally, Hobie wasn’t necessarily shaped like a bodybuilder, but his rippling muscles did little to appease your hit.

“I’m really a knob, ain’t I?” Hobie tried to joke, wondering if it’s better to leave your injury alone or if he should run a hand over it once more to soothe your pain.

“You really are.” you groaned your words through, although the laughter that came with after was enough to reassure Hobie a little. Now that the worst pain had passed, you were contemplating whether killing him or killing yourself before you developed a bump the size of the moon at the back of your head.

You closed your eyes for a second, exhaling loudly as you spread your arms out widely like and angel, taking up all space on your bed.

“Here, lemme help you,” Hobie mumbled with that deep British accent that made your insides flutter. The material of his worn-out sweatpants brushed against your bare legs as he climbed over you again. You’d try to convince him to get a new pair, but he’d always hit you with some ‘consumerism’ argument. Sometimes you really wondered where he got his clothing from, but that’d be a discovery for another time.

With both of his knees firmly planted besides your hips, Hobie hovered over you carefully. He didn’t even need to be sitting across your torso to hold himself up, because being spider-man surely meant that his thighs were finely trained. Next, Hobie grabbed onto your arms, though you were reluctant to give them to him as you brought them up towards your head. Pulling your arms back down, the punk that was currently above you now looked down at you with a long face.

“Cmon love, y’know I'm not gonna hurt ya’. Unless you’re into that, then we can totally arrange something.” he flirted, as suave as usual.

You fluttered at his words, finding it harder to decipher his intentions now. Hobie grasped your timid state to his advantage, taking your wrists into his hands again. He brought them up to your torso, cross-crossing them so they laid on the opposite shoulder. You bit your lip as you tried to retain your laughter, having now caught onto his intentions. Of course, there could be no other than Hobart Brown in this universe to injure you, then put you in a cartoonish vampire pose.

“We all lay here today-“ Hobie started, his deep voice wavering as he tried to retain himself from chuckling. “to honorate the unfortunate, sorrowful, forlorn, unluck- OW!”

Hobie rubbed his arm dramatically where you had lightly slapped him, having it of listening to him sputter a bunch of synonyms and what not.

You broke character for a second, seconds after having decided to play into his childish game, you smiled at the sound of his suffering. Once your smile faded and the unseen glare that Hobie sent to you had diminished, he began again.

“As I said, the unfortunate death of my poor girlfriend. Who she, died of an injury to the head, the perpetrator is still unknown to this day! Rust in peace.” he cried out, voice full of humorous emotions. God, he was so out of his own character that it made you want to burst out laughing, but for now you had a crowd to entertain. Even if that crowd was the bits of dust that flew ‘round your room.

“I’m so sorry to disrupt your little Bram Stoker fantasy, but I'm no Dracula. Normally, dead people aren’t posed like this.” you finally opened your eyes, pupils pointing towards your torso, your weirdly placed arms being in the spotlight.

“How’d you know, you’ve never been dead?” he sassed, quirking an eyebrow up at you.

“I’ve been to a funeral or two, m’sure that I know more than you.” you rebuked, lowering your arms and untwisting them from one another to lay them upon your stomach. Where they should’ve been.

“Wow edgy,” he rolled his eyes playfully at you, a menacing grin taunting his lips. “And excuse me for my lack of knowledge, but I'm pretty sure dead people can’t talk.”

At that, you simply stared at him with your mouth agape. Like a fish out of water, he mocked your action by recreating it. You winced as you tried to slap him upon the arm again, only for you to end up digging the throbbing part of your head down into your pillow. At last, Hobie finally softened at the sign of your fact twisting in an uncomfortable expression.

You didn’t acknowledge the sound of him leaving the room, his bare feet and sense of tranquillity created a cocktail of perfect stealth as he walked off across the concrete floor. You did, however, feel the sudden sensation of his hand pulling your head up. Then came the painful press of a freezing slip upon the back of your head. It stung at first, but you knew that it’d soon come to soothe your affliction.

You sighed in relief as you felt Hobie joining you down onto the bed. His antics were funny at first, but now you were just tired. You couldn’t wait for sleep to find you, no matter how hard it has been for you recently. Your eyebags are no stranger to yourself, and Hobie is no blind man after all. His hand cradles the back of your head as he finally lies down besides you, urging you onto his chest as his other hand lays behind his head.

Even in such an intimate position, he manages to look casual. Once your head dips to his chest, you’re already half-gone as a midday slumber engulfs you into its arms. Hobie grins warmly to himself, his hand holding the ice pack softly against your head as your head goes limp from the loss of consciousness. Chuckling to himself, he allows himself to close his eyes at his turn, though sleep does not find him. Spider-Man has no time for sleep, because even off duty, he has his own matters to attend.

For now, he’s not busy saving civilians from raging monsters, or travelling throughout the spider-verse to aid other spiders. For now, his mission is to keep that damned ice pack from sliding off your head, and he’s adamant on completing his job.

i was supposed to post this like 2 days ago but each time i had to edit it i kept on falling asleep😭

#hobie brown x reader #hobart brown x reader #atspv #atsp #spider punk #spider punk x reader #hobie brown #hobart brown #spiderman across the spiderverse #across the spiderverse

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thebenjiblackwoodexpress · 2 months

Text

Jump then fall prt.8-The Finale

Description: Can Aeron and Y/N get their happily ever after, or will the impending Dance of the Dragons keep them apart? Dragons, a wild Benjicot, and tourney's, oh my!

Part 7

Writer's note: the final part of Jump then Fall! I had never written a fanfic before this but it's been so fun to get involved with the HOTD fandom. Thank you so much to everyone who read this series :) I'm not sure if I'll write for Aeron anymore as I'll be trying my hand at an Aemond series next. But Elizabeth will hold the fort on the Brackenwood twinks with her Benji content. This includes crossover content with The Blackwood Knight since we accidentally created what we like to call 'The Bracken Tree Multiverse.' 😏

Warnings: swearing, female reader, Canon divergent, hurt/comfort, brief angst, lot's of fluff.

As dawn broke, Aeron made his way to the border with Samwell and Edmund. They did not have to wait long for Benjicot Blackwood to appear over the top of a hill, making his way down to them alone to Aeron's surprise. He was either brazen or so in love with Aeron's cousin that he had become blind to risk. He addressed Aeron with more deference and respect than he'd expected, based on the hostility that had tinged all their previous interactions. "Ser Aeron, I was gladdened to receive your raven." Aeron tried to match his tone "Ser Benjicot, I thank you for agreeing to meet with me. I will get to the point. It is my intention to broker peace between our Houses, your relationship with my cousin has led me to believe you will be amenable to this." Benjicot looked up sharply, can he really have been surprised that his love for Aeron's cousin was the worst kept secret in the Riverlands?

Coughing slightly at the awkwardness of the situation, Benjicot straightened and assumed an air of pride. "I am indeed in love with your cousin. I hope you do not intend to take issue with this. I would prefer not to fight you for fear of upsetting my beloved, I know how she cares for you." Aeron smirked back at him. "I do not take issue with you Blackwood. But it has come to my attention you have been sneaking across the border to see the lady under cloak of darkness. I ask you to desist and to meet with her by day instead before you are married." An uncharacteristic dusting of pink tinted Benjicot's cheeks as he nodded wordlessly. Aeron continued "I will arrange for you to meet her at the border and take her to visit Raventree Hall on the morrow should this be acceptable to you. The lady herself has already agreed to the arrangement." Benjicot's perpetually cocky smirk returned in full force "I gladly accept. Now tell me of your terms for peace."

The terms were shortly settled and Aeron turned to Edmund as soon as Benjicot was out of hearing distance. "Cousin, I am grateful for your aid today and must ask of you another favour. Can I entrust you to take a message to my Lady, requesting a meeting with her in a location of her choosing. I will not encroach upon her home in the current circumstances. In doing so I trust that you will also issue her with your most heartfelt apology." Aeron's eyebrows rose up at the last, Edmund sheepishly nodding in return. "I will see to it forthwith cousin." Aeron wished to inform Y/N of the fortunate outcome of his meeting with Benjicot in person. He felt her absence most keenly, and seeing her so distressed the previous evening had broken his resolve to stay away from her entirely.

He had just barely been able to bear it when he'd thought it was only him that was suffering so acutely, knowing that it was her wish for him to keep his distance. And he'd instead tried to be content with sending her letters each day and imagining her response to each word. But seeing Y/N look so unwell, watching her burst into tears upon seeing him, and having her practically faint in his arms, had broken his resolve. Nonetheless, he wished to approach this as respectfully and in keeping with Y/N's wishes as possible, sending Edmund with his message first and requesting that she appoint a meeting place herself.

Edmund returned to Bracken Hall before midday with his Lady's response. He let out a sigh of relief as Edmund informed him of her acquiescence to meeting him and that she awaited him presently under their tree. Aeron wasted no time, pocketing a small parcel and departing to meet her at a brisk pace. He slowed his pace as Y/N came into view, palm raised to the trunk of the Brackentree as if reliving a memory. Trying not to startle her, he endeavoured to make enough noise to make his presence known at a distance. She looked up upon hearing the tread of his boots and Aeron stopped a respectful distance away. He looked longingly into her expectant eyes, wishing he could take her hand but knowing his advances would be unwanted at present. He did not assume that because she had allowed him to hold her yesterday, she would allow him to do so today. "My Lady, I am grateful you agreed to meet with me. I hope Edmund was respectful and fittingly apologetic for his part." Y/N nodded, the corner of her mouth quirked up as if trying to contain a smile. "He was, i've never seen him do anything but preen and look obnoxious. I would say it made a welcome change if I could, but it was almost disturbing." Aeron laughed at her wit, the sound and feel of laughter almost foreign to him now, and he rejoiced that she should feel comfortable enough to jest with him. "I wished to tell you of my meeting with Benjicot Blackwood." Y/N eyes immediately perked up attentively at that, eager to hear his news as she leaned her back against the trunk of the Bracken tree. "He was amenable to my suggestions for brokering peace between our Houses and was generous in his offer to dispense with the boundary lines. You were right that my cousin had a secret love, it was Benjicot all along. He seemed willing to go to any lengths to ensure she would not be torn between our two Houses and so I could not have hoped for a better outcome."

He took some tentative steps towards Y/N, and when she did not startle or attempt to move from her position, he walked to stand directly in front of her. His voice came out soft and distant even to him as he became lost in gazing at her. He had not been able to gaze upon the woman he loved for such a painfully long period of time and drank in each detail of her appearance now, in the fear that she would not allow him to see her again. Pulling his focus back to her eyes he was startled to find that her eyes seemed to be flitting across his features in the same manner, and he felt his own heart stutter at the thought of her missing him too. "All that is left is for me to convince my uncle to agree to Benjicot's terms, and reaffirm my refusal to the marriage with Roslyn Tully." Y/N nodded but still looked to him unsure. "And you think you can convince him on both those matters?" Aeron's expression turned resolute, his gaze focused on her eyes "I am certain of it because there is no other option for me. I have only ever loved one girl my whole life and I will marry no other, whatever the consequences."

Y/N raised her hand to hold onto the sleeve of his tunic, pulling him towards her slightly, before looking back up to him with her own determined stare. "I must ask you to understand how betrayed I have felt, how much your actions hurt me, and that it is difficult for me to trust you now. But I love you, you know this already and there is no use in denying it." Aeron tentatively raised his own hand to lightly graze her ribcage with his knuckles, a barely there touch that still conveyed his affection for her. He did not try to interrupt her as she continued. "If you make me your solemn promise never to deceive me again, and to keep your word with regards to your intentions, I will endeavour to forgive you and hope that in time my trust in you can be restored to what it was."

Aeron smiled tenderly at her, her words so welcome to his ears. He pulled a small package from his tunic, unwrapping it to reveal a golden broach to her. Her eyes were immediately drawn to the golden stallion atop the clasp, the symbol of House Bracken. "I wish for you to take this small token as an assurance that I mean what I say, in my eyes you are already the future Lady Bracken, should you permit it." Y/N tentatively took the broach from him, finding herself genuinely moved by his heartfelt attempt to show her his true intentions. She looked back up at him with a gentle smile "Thank you, Aeron."

Lost in his feeling of elation at her acceptance of his small gift, he took a step closer to her as if to embrace her and she planted a hand firmly on his chest to stop him. Aeron instantly halted his movements as his head dropped and he took a step back. "Aeron, I do not wish to open my heart to any more dissapointment. I ask that you keep your distance oncemore. You may come to me only when you have your uncle's express consent to break off your betrothal to Lady Roslyn, only when you are free to marry who you wish." Aeron's expression turned pained, but he understood his Lady's reasoning. "As you wish it, my love." Y/N briefly raised her hand as if to touch him before seeming to think better of it, lowering it back down to her side. "Farewell then Aeron." Her eyes glistened slightly as she strode quickly away from him. Aeron stayed rooted to the spot, watching Y/N walk away from him until she passed over the hill that lead to her home and he could no longer see her.

Lord Amos Bracken was furious at first to learn of his nephew's meeting with Benjicot Blackwood and the pact they had made. To know that Aeron had acted on behalf of House Bracken without his consent. He refused to speak with his nephew for three days in his anger, despite Aeron's constant attempts to catch him as he left his council room or left his chambers to break his fast. By the third day, Aeron had had enough. His uncle's stalling was just extending the length of time before he could see Y/N again and so on the third day he boldly strode into his uncle's council as it was in session. "Uncle I will speak with you, should you permit it or not. I ask you now to decide whether I will do so in front of your council members or not."

His uncle gaped at Aeron's audacity before signalling for his council to depart with a wave of his hand. As soon as the room was vacated and the door shut, Aeron began before his uncle could forestall him further. "Uncle the pact Ser Benjicot Blackwood and I have brokered will mean peace throughout the Riverlands. There will be no more cause for violence at the border, indeed we will need no border at all and can pass peacefully between Blackwood and Bracken lands. You reject it out of spite alone. Will you not see what lies before you? We assure our own destruction if you will not be swayed." Lord Amos merely glared at Aeron, saying nothing and Aeron threw his hands up in frustration before stalking from the chamber, leaving the door to swing harshly against the wall. However, Lord Amos had begun to consider Aeron's words, unbeknownst to his nephew.

The next day Aeron took a different approach and when he sought an audience with his uncle again, it was with Lady Roslyn beside him. "Uncle, I entreat you to consider the benefits of an accord between our House and House Blackwood. There is no need for us to tear the Riverlands apart for Targaryen overlords who have no care for us. I will not marry Lady Roslyn, nor does she have any desire to marry me and she has kindly accompanied me to tell you as much. It is Y/N I love and it is her alone I will pledge myself too. You can either except this absolute with or without the peace pact I have secured." Aeron was out of breath by the time he had finished his tirade but his persistence had been worth it. Lord Amos finally acceded the sagacity of a pact between Blackwoods and Brackens, particularly when the Riverlands were threatened by all out warfare and destruction by dragon fire. Together, the Houses of the Riverlands would stand strong. And at last, he consented to dissolve Aeron's betrothal to the Lady Roslyn, much to her own relief. Aeron was pleasant enough but her tastes lay elsewhere, she had already found love with her handmaiden. She laughed as Aeron ran from the hall the second they were dismissed, having no doubt of where he was headed.

Y/N was almost ashamed to find herself yet again sat in the windowsill of her father's home, that gave her a direct view of Bracken Hall. She knew that it was at her request that Aeron stayed away. She had not thought she could bear his closeness while still uncertain whether she would be able to marry him. It did not matter that he'd all but promised himself to her, not until Lord Bracken rescinded his betrothal to Roslyn Tully. The Blackwood heir's ready acceptance to peace terms had filled her with hope, but she was no fool and would not allow herself to be placed in a precarious position again as she had been when Aeron's betrothal had first been announced.

And yet she had almost convinced herself she could see Aeron walking the path that led to her home, as she had often imagined. Her heart leapt in her chest as she realised she was not imagining anything, that was Aeron making his way across the field which led to her home. He was far off in the distance but she could recognise his silhouette anywhere. Y/N knew that if he had come to her that could only mean one thing, that all her hopes were coming to fruition. She slid off the window sill, picking up her skirts and beginning to run. It was a difficult task with nerves racking her entire body, but she felt an inexplicable pull forcing her legs to move faster as she ran to meet Aeron.

He did not spot her at first, seemingly preoccupied with staring at his boots, a bouquet of baby's breath flowers swinging from one of his hands. But when he did his face lit up in a smile that was pure sunshine to Y/N, full of warmth, which only made her run that much faster. Aeron opened his arms to meet her as she practically flew into him, wrapping his arms around her and holding her to him in an embrace that lifted her feet of the ground. He held her aloft and against him for a long while, his face pressed against her hair, breathing in the smell of her perfume, before he slowly slid her back down to the ground. He kept his arms firmly encircled around her waist nonetheless, as if frightened she would dissapear, though she had no intention of leaving his arms anytime soon.

Still out of breath from her exertions, she spoke in between pants. "It is settled then? I am to be your wife?" She watched a soft emotion crossed Aeron's eyes. Removing his hands from her waist and taking a step back from her, which had Y/N inwardly panicking that she had misunderstood the situation entirely, he suddenly knelt before her on one knee. She blushed as she realised what he was doing. Taking both her hands in his, he looked up at her reverentially as if she were a goddess and he her humble worshipper. "I will make no great speeches now my love, for I hope there will be plenty of time for that in the days and years that follow. I know that I tarried too long in expressing this, my most earnest and longheld desire, that you should become my wife, so I will waste no more time. I offer myself to you as your husband, as one who loves you and wants nothing more than to cherish you for the rest of our lives."

Y/N could hardly speak through the all-consuming joy she felt but squeezed his hands and managed out a breathy "yes." Aeron was on his feet in an instant, oncemore lifting her off the ground and spinning her as they both laughed. Setting her back down, he slowly brought his hands to either side of her face, before pressing his forehead to hers and closing his eyes, as if trying to convey the love he felt for her with this touch. He brushed his lips against hers, whispering against them "I can no longer be a raven", seemingly referring to that pained period when the only connection he could have with his beloved was the daily letters he sent by raven. With that he closed the distance and captured her lips with his. Y/N pulled away from him after a few moments, fixing Aeron with a stern gaze. "Don't you ever do something so stupid again, do you understand me?" Aeron gulped down a swallow before responding "Of course my love, it was a terrible thing and I am sorry for it. I will spend a lifetime trying to make up for it." Y/N considered this and nodded, placing her head on his chest. Only a second later she abruptly pushed him away from her, seemingly not finished with scolding him for his previous misteps as she poked him in the chest with her index finger. "And don't think that you can just get away with..." Aeron quickly cut her off, pulling her back to him by her waist and crashing his lips to hers. Y/N found she did not care about his rude interruption, simply opening her palm to lay it flat against his chest and entangling her other hand in his hair. She felt him smile against her lips as she did so.

Aeron did not think he had ever been so nervous in his life as he stood at the altar of the Sept at Bracken Hall, waiting for Y/N. His feelings had clearly mapped their way onto his expression and Samwell lightly elbowed him in the ribs as he stood at his side. "Worried she's going to jilt you? Can't blame you, she was always too good for you." When Aeron shot him a look of utter panic at what he'd intended as a joke Sam relented and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Stop worrying. Y/N loves you, it may be misguided philanthropy on her part but it's true nonetheless. She'll be here." Aeron nodded and faced back towards the door.

He was glad of it as within moments Y/N appeared on her father's arm. Aeron's face broke into a smile at the sight of her. She had never looked so beautiful to him than she did now in her wedding dress of cream and gold, symbolising her affinity with his House. He had to remember to keep his breathing even as she walked towards him, but his nerves disappeared altogether when she removed herself from her father's arm to take his hand instead. He could barely contain his joy as they spoke their vows, realising that he could finally call Y/N his wife.

𝕰𝖕𝖎𝖑𝖔𝖌𝖚𝖊

As the great Houses of the Riverlands came together as one to support Rhaenyra's claim, the war was quickly won in the true Queen's favour. A period of peace and prosperity was brought forth such that the Riverlands had never seen in living memory, the pact between House Blackwood and House Bracken cemented in treaties and in blood with the marriage of the Lord of Raventree, Benjicot Blackwood, to Aeron Bracken's cousin.

Aeron felt sure he'd checked everywhere for his favourite riding gloves, having turned his chambers inside out to find them. He was certain his Lady Wife would not be best pleased at the mess but he urgently needed his gloves for the tourney his uncle was holding on the morrow. He had neither the time nor the patience to restore everything back to its rightful place as he searched, leaving behind him a wake of destruction. A gentle cough behind him signalled the arrival of the very lady he'd been thinking of and he turned to her with a sheepish smile. "I must apologise, my love. I assure you I will set everything back to rights, I just cannot seem to find my gloves anywhere." Y/N nodded, smoothing her skirts down and beginning to open up a cabinet he'd not yet checked. "I think it best we find the gloves first before we attempt to put anything back in order. I don't trust you not to mess it up again otherwise." She sent him a look that was half stern, half teasing. "Right you are of course, my darling." He smiled at her sweet nature as she joined him in looking for his missing gloves.

Opening a drawer in the bottom shelf of a dresser his hands grazed some crumpled parchment, and he pulled out a wad of letters tied together with lilac ribbon. As he continued to look at them he realised they were in fact his letters, or rather the ones he had written to Y/N in the weeks following that disastrous banquet, when she had refused to speak to him at all. He had imagined she'd thrown every letter out in her anger with him, it warmed his heart to know she'd kept them like precious treasures. They were crumpled and clearly well-read, as if she had gone back to them time and time again. Suspicious of her husband's silence, Y/N turned and her heart skipped a beat at what she saw. Quickly running over to him she made a grab for the letters but Aeron pulled them out of her reach. Her face was flushed with embarrassment but Aeron could not see why.

"You kept my letters?" Hearing the tenderness in his tone as his eyes softened, she realised he did not mean to mock her for her sentimentality.

"They were beautiful letters."

"I thought you had hated each one, though I could not find it in myself to stop writing. Those letters felt like the only thing tethering me to you at one point."

Y/N reached up to stroked Aeron's cheek. "I cannot tell you what those words meant to me. I read them over and over, they were the only thing that made me certain you did in fact love me. I cherish them and read them often even now."

Aeron took her hand from his face to place a kiss on her palm at her admission. "Perhaps I should write more love letters, then, if it would please my Lady Wife." Aeron smirked cockily at her. She swatted his chest, "Don't get too arrogant now, it doesn't suit you husband. I should be glad to receive your notes though if you deign to write them."

Aeron pulled her to him, his chin resting atop her head. "I shall dedicate hours to them each day. Nothing shall take precedence." Aeron jested. He did so love to hear his wife laugh.

As the morning of the tourney loomed, Aeron attempted with little success to put on his armour without the help of his bastardly squire, who'd gotten too deep into his cups at the opening feast the night prior. As he struggled to attach his pauldron to his breastplate he heard the shift of fabric as the flap of his tent was pulled up and his Lady Wife entered. "Husband, I can hear you clanging about with your armour from outside. Let me help you." She removed his hands from where he'd been fumbling with clasps as she deftly began to attach each piece with more patience and skill than he had done. He felt his heartbeat race, as she brushed her hands across his shoulders to survey her handy work. Though they were now married and he could barely feel her touch through the armour, she was ever able to have such an affect on him.

Handing him his gauntlet she nodded, seemingly satisfied with her work. "You are presentable, now make me proud." Aeron let out a hearty laugh, pulling his beloved wife to him with one arm wrapped around her waist as she braced her hands against his chest from the momentum. He leaned down and lightly brushed his nose against hers. "I shall win every tournament which I compete in if it should please my Lady, and if she consent to give me her favour." Quickly pecking him on the lips Y/N affectionately patted Aeron on the cheek before pulling away. "None of that my Good Knight. You can get a kiss when you win your tournaments."

As Aeron reluctantly released her, a playful look lit her eyes and she made a grab for his sword. "You should teach me how to use this Aeron, it might come in handy when your cousin Edmund is being particularly reprehensible." Lifting it she attempted to swing it in an arch but stumbled under the weight of it, not having taken that into account. Aeron's eyes widened in concern for her safety as it swung wildly out of her grip in the direction of the tent entrance, only for Samwell to pop his head through the flap. The sword just barely missed his head as his eyes widened comically in shock. Y/N quickly covered her mouth in embarrassment and fear of what she had almost done. Seeming to recover his wits, Samwell turned his head in Aeron's direction. "I dare say my good man your Lady Wife almost decapitated me. What have you done to make her so angry she should swing your own sword at you."

Y/N took a step towards him, frantically uttering her apologies. "I'm so terribly sorry Samwell, I was being silly and messing about with it."

Samwell did not wish to embarass his friend's wife and so shrugged it off. "No worries my Lady, if I were bound to that oaf over there for the rest of my days I'd also have swung a sword at him by now." Aeron rolled his eyes at Samwell and wrapped his arm around his wife's shoulders, rubbing his hand down her arm comfortingly. "I'll not have you undermining my Lady's swordsmanship Samwell. The blow was clearly well aimed and meant for you. I'm immensely proud." Y/N's embarrassment had begun to fade as the two men continued to jest and volley insults at one another, but she resolutely decided she would in fact ask Aeron to teach her to handle a sword in future to avoid any recurrences. With a soft kiss to the crown of her head, Aeron departed for the joust and Y/N made for the stands to cheer on her husband. She positioned herself close to the balcony railings of Lord Bracken's box so Aeron would be able to see her and ask for her favour. She well knew he had kept the first lilac favour she'd ever given him tied to his swordbelt, and yet she still knew he would ask it of her. She believed that to him it was his way of expressing to her what they'd both always known since they were children, that he was her Good Knight and she his Lady.

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theyhavetakenovermylife · 8 months

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hear me out spicy enemies to lovers arc with the 07 nightwatcher 😩

The Nightwatcher and the Dark Angel (18+)

2007!Raphael x vigilante!reader

A/N: I hear you loud and clear😏 May this appease the Nightwatcher and his followers!❤️

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A vigilante, going under the name of the Dark Angel, finds herself in a new situation with her enemy, the vigilante the Nightwatcher. And oh boy, can they fight in more ways that the traditional.

All characters are aged up.

Warnings: Fighting, hand to hand combat, unprotected sex, rooftop sex, angry sex, fight over domination, doggy, hair pulling.

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One would think that two vigilantes would work well together. Help each other out with their common enemies of the streets, doing their part to create a safer world for those who could not protect themselves. Yeah, one would think so, but reality was nothing like that.

But the Nightwatcher and the Dark Angel could not stand each other. The Nightwatcher found himself built with anger whenever he saw the fully black dressed female with her bow and arrows, and the Dark Angel in turn would let out a frustrated sound whenever she heard his roaring motorcycle, or the sight of the headlight upon his helmet.

Their hatred for one another started back when they both happened to stumble upon the same back rubbery. But instead of working together, they found themselves annoyed at one another, not willing to let the other take the authority. And so it happened that the Nightwatcher’s ball chains got in the way of the Dark Angel’s arrows, resulting in the criminals getting away. And from then on, every interaction between them had been marked by that night. Bickering or straight up fighting whenever they saw each other, becoming more focused on the vigilante that threatened what they both saw as their work. Their duty to the city.

It got to the point where the two vigilanties would consider their nights ruined, if they as much as thought of the other. And thought they did. But in their vigilante attire, and outside of it. Much to the frustration of the Dark Angel, she found that Nightwatcher entered her head. Not only the Dark Angel had to suffer the Batman wannabe, but so had (Y/N) (L/N). You.

He found his way into your head, both while you were at work and while you tried to further your studies. It was frustrating to have that no good, annoying piece of shit stuck in your head. And yet he stayed there, taking up way too much space than what he was worth.

There had been times where you had thought about quitting the whole vigilante thing because of him. The dangers you were putting yourself in didn’t matter much to you, but the stress of the Nightwatcher was a whole other thing. You started to wonder if it was really worth it, when you no longer felt like you could separate your late night crime fighting from your normal everyday. But then you remembered why you started doing it in the first place. To combat the crime that had been rising all over New York in the past few months. And for the simple fact that you loved it. The thrill, the adrenaline and the rush you felt every night. You had pretty much become addicted, and you did not wish to stop. So therefore you continued your work as the Dark Angel each and every night, even if the Nightwatcher was becoming an aching thorn in your side.

It was a Wednesday night. Had it not been for the light pollution of the big city, you would have been able to see the stars in the cloud free sky. However the moon was fully visible, the round white shape casting a dim white glow down over the townhouses and high rises. You could hear cars and sirens in the distance, just like you could any other day in the city that never slept. The cold night air swept over the apartments and through the streets, and blew against your face. You could just feel it through your black skin tight bodysuit, as small goosebumps rising under your skin. You took in the scent of the air, letting it fill your lungs. The city you loved. The city you intended to protect.

As you stood atop the building, you suddenly heard it. The ringing of an alarm. You speed into action, running towards the sound. Jumping across roofs before you finally came upon the scene. Below you, on the street, a van stood by a jewelry store, the glass of the storefront broken, and five men rushing out, their hands filled with whatever they had been able to grab. They rushed to the van, laughing and smirking with one another, until a black arrow shot through the air, penetrating the back door of the van. The five men turned in shook and disdain, staring at you as you rushed down from the roof, landing in the middle of the street.

“Ow, not this bitch again”, one of them growled.

“Nice to see you again, Drew”, you said, resting your weight onto one of your legs, looking totally unbothered. “But after our last meeting, I had hoped you finally would find something better to do”.

“Guys”, the one called Drew said, cracking his knuckles. “I believe it’s time to show the Angel that we do not believe in any higher powers”.

“No, that much is obvious”, you mumbled, drawing another arrow from your back. You did not wish to kill anyone, but only hurt them a little. Just enough to hopefully scare them off the street. It had worked before with the rest of Drew’s gang, so why should it not with his new one.

But then, as you pulled on your bowstring, you heard the familiar noise of a motorcycle down the street behind you, and soon the street was lit up by the front light of the noise motorcycle, and the headlights of that obnoxious helmet. Dread fell upon you as the Nightwatcher jumped up the motorcycle, landing just beside you.

“Argh, not you again”, he grumbled at the sight of you. “And you too, Drew. Do you really not have anything better to do”.

“Leave”, you snarled at him. “Can’t you see I got this?”

“Got this? Well, that’s strange, because to me it looked like they were about to get away in a van, and you intended to shoot arrows at it?”

“That’s not what was happening!”, you exclaimed, lowering your arrow as you spoke. “I was about to get them away from the van!”

“I have eyes!”, he growled, gesturing towards his eyes with two fingers from his three fingered glove. You had always thought that had been an odd choice. “And I could see that was not what was happening!”

“You don’t know anything about that!”, you yelled back, turning fully in order to continue your argument, all while the five goons were watching in confusion.

“Boss?”, one of them whispered to Drew. “Should we go?”

“We should”, Drew said, watching you and the Nightwatcher as you continued to argue. “Get into the van before they notice anything”. And so they did. They threw the stolen goods into the van, smiling as they pulled your arrow out of the door, throwing it onto the street. And somehow, neither you or the Nightwatcher noticed it, until the motor of the van started.

You and the Nigthwatcher looked, just as Drew waved, closing the door before setting the van into motions.

“Oh no you don’t!”, you yelled, running after the vehicle, managing to jump onto the back, your feet on the edge of the back bumper, your hands clinging onto the handle of the back door. The Nightwatcher however ran to his motorcycle, setting it into motion in order to follow the van.

On the back of the van you grabbed at the handle, trying to get the door open. But then the door opened from the inside, one of Drew’s goons looking at you with a smug smile.

“Sorry, but we don’t allow Angels in the van”, he said, as if it was supposed to sound badass. It was then that he pushed you off the moving van, sending you tumbling on the road, before slamming the door closed.

The Nightwatcher that had followed behind you and the van swerved, trying not to run you over, but instead turning so hard he fell over. He hit the ground, groaning just like you, both hearing the van drive away.

—

“You always get in my way!”, you yelled as you got up on the roof, looking in the direction the van had droven.

“I get in your way?!”, the Nightwatcher yelled furiously, following you up the fire escape, his boots hitting hard against the roof. “Who was it that almost got run down by my motorcycle? Oh yeah, you!”

“And you were the one that didn’t even try to use the fucking breaks!”, you barked back, turning sharply towards him.

“Or, you could just not stand in the middle of the fucking road, Cupid”, he said, a finger from his three fingered glove poking you in the head with a hard push, sending your blood into a boil.

“Watch your finger, Robin!”, you snarled, slapping his hand away.

“What did you just call me?!”, he growled, his stands growing wider.

“You heard me, Batman wannabe!”

“That’s it!”, he yelled, pulling out his chain ball before throwing them to the side. “It’s time to settle this! You and me, right here! No weapons! Loser has to leave the other one alone!”

With anger burning inside of you, you agreed. However, you treated your bow and arrows with more care than he had shown his chains, placing them on the sideline, before standing in front of him, stance ready. “Come at me, hot head”.

It was as if that comment made something click inside the Nightwatcher’s head, making him throw a punch in your direction. You duck before standing to the side, giving him a hard push. He stumbled a little, turning to you with a growl, throwing another punch. You ducked once more, this time trying to get in a punch of your own. He caught your hand however, but did not expect the upper that hit his chin. It was harder than any of you had expected. So hard that he stumbled back as his helmet flew off. You gasped at your action, your knuckles slightly aching from the punch. You had been in small physical fights before with the Nightwatcher, but never had you managed to punch his helmet straight off of his head.

“Fuck!”, he exclaimed, his hands still on his face.

“What’s wrong?”, you asked, the shock of your punch subsiding. “Can’t handle a punch?”

Then, the Nightwatcher jumped on you, pinning you to the roof. You stared in shock at the face in front of you. You started at a green face and a pair of pretty brown eyes, all with a red bandana tied around the head. Yet somehow, you found the green face handsome.

“Now you’ve seen my face”, he growled, one hand grabbing a hold of your full face mask. “Let’s see who this Dark Angel is”.

That was when he pulled your mask off in a swift move, making you suck in a breath of anticipation. You expected him to say something. To continue your fight. But it didn’t happen. Silence fell over him, your mask still in his fisted hand. From his position above you, the Nightwatcher could do nothing but stare. This was not what he had expected. He had thought you would be hideous to look at. He wanted you to be hideous. After everything he had been through with you, he had thought your face to be repulsive. But to his dismay you were absolutely beautiful, the word Angel describing your appearance very well.

He almost felt angry at you for being so beautiful. It made it hard for him to hate you like he did just a few moments ago. It made it even harder for him to hit you, the fist with your mask still hanging in the air, clenching around nothing but the black fabric. Yet he felt the burning need to do something to you. You had been a pest to him, ever since he first met, and now you had punched him and seen his face. He had to do something. And he did. Just not what he had thought he would do.

The moment his lips hit yours, you froze. You had not expected that. But neither did you try to push away or tell him to stop. No, because you did not want him to do so. So instead you turned your head to the side, allowing him to deepen the kiss with you. A growl escaped him, his fist and your mask falling to the roof as his lips started to move against yours, your hands reaching up to hold his green head.

The kiss became heated quickly, with both of your tongues fighting for dominance, neither of you willing to let the other take over. And with that mindset, you quickly pushed him onto his back, straddling his legs before diving in for the continued fight of your tongues. From here you started working on the two buckles that lined his front.

“Someone’s eager”, he smirked into the kiss.

“To get you to shut up? Yes, very much”, you said, pulling him in for another kiss as you opened his last buckle. You were surprised to hear him hum into the kiss, his hands feeling your thighs through the fabric of your suite, letting you pull on the zipper that went from his collar and all the way down his torso. It was when you pulled back in slight surprise, feeling his chest where the zipper had allowed you to, only to feel his hard plastron, that he took the change. In a shift move he pushed you down onto your stomach, before letting himself rest on top of you, his mouth finding the curve of your ear.

“Then you have to be better than that, little Angel”, he smirked, before nibbling at your earlobe. You shivered, yet refusing to let out the whimper that pressed in your chest. You would not give him that satisfaction. “Now, where the fuck is that dumbass zipper?”, he growled, searching the top of your collar.

You could not help but chuckle. “Getting eager, Watcher?”

“To teach a little brat like you a lesson?”, he asked, a hand coming around to hold your chin. “You bet”.

His other hand finally found the opening of your zipper, pulling it down and showing off your bare back. You could hear the Nightwatcher cures under his breath as he went lower, all the way to the top of your ass.

“Holy shit, have you always been naked under that thing?!”, he asked in surprise. In fact, he was so surprised that he did not fight when you forced him onto his back once more, straddling him again. He watched in awe as your suite came loose, showing off the skin of your shoulder. You smiled smugly at him, feeling proud of the expression he gave you.

“So if I have?”, you asked, pulling further down on his zipper, almost reaching the bottom. “Can’t the Nightwatcher handle that?”

“And here I thought the whole Angel thing had something to do with being pure”, he said, licking his lips as the zipper reached his cloaca.

Unable to resist you leaned down to where his ear would have been, licking your lips before you spoke. “When have brats like me ever been pure?”

That caused him to move quickly once more, trying to force you back onto your stomach, but you resisted on your knees, not letting your stomach touch the roof. As you tried to stand, the Nightwatcher’s hand pressed down on the top of your back, forcing your chest against the roof. In this position your ass was up in the air with him pressing himself against you from behind. With his free hand, he pulled your open suite down your ass, revealing your soaked core to him. And that was when you felt something hard being pressed up against your cheek. He grabbed ahold of himself, slowly sliding himself up and down your slick folds.

“Admitting defeat yet, Angel?”, he asked, his voice dripping with smugness.

“(Y/N). And no, I’m not admitting to anything”, you said, fighting not to moan when his head brushed over your clit.

“In that case, (Y/N), I’ll just have to continue until you admit”, he chuckled, before pushing his swollen head through your drenched entrance.

You gasped out loud at his size, surprised at the pleasurable stretch he provided you. From the back you could hear him let out a satisfied groan, his hands resting on your hips for a moment as he got used to the tight fit. And then, finally, he started moving. You forced your mouth shut when you felt the moans that were about to fall off of your tongue, not wishing to inflate his already big ego. But the Nightwatcher noticed, chuckling once more.

“Oh, now you don’t wanna talk? Too bad, because I wanna hear you”, he said, before grasping a firm grasp on your hips, thrusting much harder and faster into you than before. Your mouth fell open, unwilling moans falling from your lips as you felt him reach further into you.

“Fuck!”, you moaned, slapping a hand against the roof in frustraion. “You, you, oh fuck!”

“Raphael”, he growled, his still gloved hand reaching around the back of your neck. “Call me, Raphael”.

You almost wanted to laugh at the irony. Here you were, the Dark Angel of New York City, getting dicked down on top of a roof top, by the Nightwatcher who just so happened to have the exact same name as an archangel. But instead of laughing, you moaned, feeling his hand move from the back of your neck and into your hair, where Raphael grabbed a fistfull, pulling your head back and in turn forcing your mouth open.

“Fuck!”, you almost screamed. “Raph!”

“That’s right, (Y/N). Scream my name. Let the city know who’s fucking you this good”, he said through a strained voice.

Once again you slapped your hand against the roof, frustration filling you as you moaned out his name once more. But even more frustration over the fact that you did not hate it. You should hate Raph. Even as his cock reached that good spot inside of you, you should hate him. But you just couldn’t. Whatever he was and the way he was fucking you had made your emotions for him soften quite a bit. But in that moment, you could not deny how you wanted him to moan your name the same way you had been moaning his. And it was with that thought in mind that you started moving your hips against him.

Raph gasped as the way you started to bounce back against him, the grasp he had on your hair releasing quite a bit. With every move you made back onto him, he leaned further and further over you, until he just couldn’t stop himself from letting his lips kiss up and down your spine.

“Admitting defeat yet, Raphael?”, you asked with a self satisfied smile, as you felt one of his arms slide down under you, pulling you closer against him.

“You’re no angel. You’re a demon, (Y/N)”, he growled against your neck.

“Nothing the Nightwatcher hasn't tried before?”

“Oh, fuck you, (Y/N)”, he moaned, his hips trying to catch up with yours.

“You already are, Raphie boy”, you smiled at him, causing him to moan against your skin.

It didn’t take long before his hips started to shutter, moving against you with such speed that you couldn’t keep up anymore.

“Fuck, (Y/N)”, he moaned against your shoulder. “I’m about to cum”.

“Me too, Raph”, you whimpered, feeling your peak reaching closer and closer, stars forming before your very eyes. It only took a few more thrust before you came around him, your walls hugging him tightly as he continued his high speed against you. Then, finally, he came, moaning your name out loud as he came inside of you, coating your walls with him, before he slowly pulled out of you.

You wanted to rest. You wanted to take your time and maybe for once, have a civil conversation with Raphael. But you couldn’t. With the sky getting brighter in the east, you knew it was time to get going. And so did Raphael. Standing up, he helped you back on your feet, zipping up the back of your suit before taking care of himself. He then went to where your mask and helmet was, handing you your mask.

You sighed as you held the mask in your hand, once again looking in the direction Drew and his gang had gone.

“I bet Drew and the others have gone over hills now”, you said, your eyes on the horizon.

“We’ll look for them tomorrow”, Raphael said, making sure the lights on his helmet weren't damaged.

“We?”, you asked, looking at him with a confused frown.

“Yes”, he answered, meeting your eyes with an unreadable expression. “We”.

“I’m sorry”, you chuckled. “But what happened to the dark and broody Nightwatcher that hated working with other people?”

“Oh he never left”, Raph said, turning the helmet in his hands. “But he still has a score to settle with the Dark Angel”.

“Is that so?”, you said, crossing your arms. “What kind of score?”

“She still hasn’t admitted that I was the winner tonight”.

You laughed. A genuine laugh that Raph never had heard from you before, his heart fluttering a little at the sound.

“Keep dreaming”, you said, smacking his arm with your mask.

“I don’t have to dream”, Raph smirked. “Because I’m right”. With those words be brought the helmet back over his head, and for a moment you wished he would keep it off. You enjoyed his brown eyes way more than those bright headlights. “See you later, Angel”.

“See you, Watcher”, you said, pulling the mask down over your face, grabbing your bow and arrow before disappearing over the rooftops while Raph went back to his motorcycle.

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queen-haq · 8 months

Text

Fic: Grudgingly Yours, Part 12

Grudgingly Yours, Part 12

Summary: You are a general surgeon, working in a hospital that’s slowly sucking the life out of you when one day you’re given the offer of a lifetime.

A.K.A - An arranged marriage fic :)

Pairing: Billy Russo x You

Rating: R

Masterlist (contains links to my other stories and this one)

Chapter 12

You were seething with anger. So frustrated, you wanted to scream with rage. How dare Billy do this? How dare he fucking threaten you? And on top of that, he hurt Calvin – did he really think that would score him points? Was he really that stupid?

“Stop dragging your feet.” Billy ordered from the other side of the room, packing your clothes into your suitcase. The entitlement in his voice was so infuriating, you picked up the closest pillow to you and threw it at him. As soon as it struck his back, he turned around. For a second he simply stared at you, and fear trickled down your spine. This was a man who kidnapped your friend and tortured him. He had you cuffed and bound a few minutes earlier. As much as you prided yourself in being strong and resourceful, he was an actual soldier, a psychopath and rich. He could kill you in a fit of rage and suffer no consequences.

Then he smirked, his handsome face breaking into a magnetic smile while he retrieved the pillow from the ground. “If it’s a fight you’re looking for, I’ll give you one when we get home.”

His friendly demeanor did nothing to alleviate your anxiety.

Throwing the pillow back onto the bed, he turned around and continued to pack your things.

Half an hour later all of your stuff was packed into a suitcase which Billy was carrying to the elevator. “Rest of your things?” he prodded.

“Storage.”

“We can get it tomorrow.”

You didn’t respond.

The elevator ride felt distinctly uncomfortable, with Billy’s eyes on you the entire time. His gaze felt intrusive, like he was trying to crack through your brain and see every running thought inside your head. You tried ignoring him but it seemed to make no difference.

When you both reached the underground parking lot, you headed towards your car. “I’ll meet you there.”

“Nice try.” He gripped your elbow, maneuvering your body towards the guest parking spots. Once he reached the Wraith, he opened the trunk and stuffed your things inside before pulling open the passenger side door open. “Get in.”

You eyed him suspiciously. “I need my car.”

“We can pick it up tomorrow.”

The bastard had an answer for everything. Fuck him. Angrily you slid inside, wishing you could at least have the satisfaction of slamming his door shut. He closed the door and circled the car to get in. Defiantly you opened the door on your side and slammed it hard.

“Feel better?” he asked, sliding in next to you.

“Fuck off.”

There was his smirk again, goading you, but you chose to ignore it.

This was the first time you were in his car, sitting beside him while he drove. He was a smooth driver, expertly gliding his way through traffic like he did everything else. Prick.

“Where’s Calvin?” you asked.

“He’s fine.”

“You need to let him go.”

“I will,” he replied, nonchalant. “As soon as you keep your end of the deal.”

“I’m already moving back in. What else do you want?”

“A guarantee that you won’t bolt.”

“You’re the one who runs, not me,” you retaliated.

“I’m here now.”

You scoffed, shaking your head at his audacity.

“So are you gonna co-operate?”

“I don’t have a choice, do I?”

“There’s always a choice. You’re smart enough to make the right one.”

“I wish I killed you before.” You expected him to snark back or maybe ignore your hostile words. Instead he smiled, a tender, affectionate smile that made your heart skip a beat because it caught you completely unaware.

“You’ll get lots more chances now. Promise.”

Your eyes locked with his, and for a second the world stopped. You forgot how exhilarating his attention could be, making you feel like you were the only person in the world who mattered to him. You were special, you were important, and just as quickly, he would turn on you and throw you aside. Irritated with yourself, you glanced out the window.

Minutes passed before he spoke again. “He’s a decent scammer. Not great, but good enough to fool a lot of people.”

You scowled. “What are you talking about?”

“Your buddy, Calvin. He’s ripped off a lot of people with some kind of Ponzi scheme.”

You recalled the portfolio Calvin shared with you, how the returns on investments seemed too good to be true. Fuck. Even though there was nothing to arouse your suspicions at the time, a part of you had known something was wrong. But there was no way you were going to admit that to Billy. “Yeah, sure. Whatever.”

“I had someone look into him.”

“And I’m supposed to believe you?”

“Want to see what the investigator dug up?”

“Not interested.”

He cocked his eyebrow at you. “Scared to find out the truth about fuckboy?”

“Don’t act like you were punishing him for being a swindler.”

The car came to a stop at a red light, he turned towards you. “I don’t give a fuck about that. He is where he is because he touched you. He. Touched. You. After I warned him not to. And he will pay for that. How much depends on you.”

“Don’t you dare! I’m not responsible for this, you are! You’re the fucking psychopath. You don’t get to put this on me.”

Swallowing the angry lump in your throat, you stared straight ahead. But he didn’t. You felt his eyes digging into you until a car honked from behind. That seemed to snap Billy out of his daze and he started driving again.

The rest of the ride was spent in silence, with you contemplating Billy’s murder.

***

It was strange to be back in the penthouse that had been your home for a short time. Everything looked the same yet it all felt different. Tainted. You knew you’d have to return eventually because Alistair was an asshole and would make you, but you purposely avoided thinking about living with Billy again. A part of you had hoped he’d avoid you after humiliating the way he had, but you should’ve known that wouldn’t be his way. He liked playing with your emotions, softening you up before going in for the kill, and tonight was the beginning of the same cycle. All the bullshit he spewed was intended to make you feel something for him again but he’d made a big mistake in underestimating you. Because you felt nothing for him anymore. Nothing. And that wasn’t going to change, no matter how much he tried to manipulate you or threaten you with Calvin.

The lights turned on automatically as you entered your bedroom. Anita must have cleaned it after you left, because it was perfectly pristine. As Billy brushed past you carrying your luggage, your body stiffened. Everything about him felt obtrusive and too close. He was back in your life, in your head, in your room, and now in your things as he started to unpack your luggage.

“Stop touching my stuff,” you snapped, grabbing the skirts he was holding in his hand.

“I’m trying to help.”

“I don’t need your fucking help.” You stormed over to the walk-in closet and started hanging the clothes up.

“Fine. Then I’ll go make dinner.”

“Hope you choke on it and die.”

That elicited a full-fledged chuckle from him, which agitated you more. At least you’d get some satisfaction from pissing him off but he seemed determined not to be provoked. Jackass. Over the next hour while you put away your things, your brain spun with anxiety. You didn’t do well with uncertainty. You were a problem solver and that’s how you got through life. Anticipate. Plan. Execute. Except there was no way for you to anticipate the curveball Billy threw at you. You were prepared for Alistair, but not Billy. And now you had to find a way out of this situation. Not to mention rescue Calvin too. Fuck. You needed to know details, exactly what Billy had planned and then find a way to get through it.

“Dinner’s ready.”

Hearing his voice calling from the kitchen, you made your way to the ensuite bathroom. You took your time in freshening up, washing all the make-up from your face. You stared at your reflection in the mirror, once again pondering Billy’s sick mind. Did he really expect you to play along? Was he so used to women being doormats that he honestly thought you would just roll over and give into him? It was obvious he had no idea who you were. And all signs pointed to him being exactly like his grandfather, a rich, entitled bigot who got off on controlling you. Well, fuck that.

After changing into an extra baggy lounge set that did a remarkable job of making you look dowdy, you sauntered over to the kitchen. What you found there was a complete surprise. The small table was adorned with fresh flowers, your favourite bottle of wine, and candle lights. He had also plated the pasta, which looked unbelievably good, and was already seated and waiting for you. What the fuck? Did he think the two of you were going to have a romantic meal together?

“Seriously?” Your eyes narrowed onto him, shaking your head. “This isn’t a fucking date.”

He looked unmoved by your lack of enthusiasm. “Doesn’t mean we can’t eat.” He stood up to pull your chair back. “Sit.”

“Are you asking me or ordering me?”

He cocked his eyebrow. “Does it matter?”

“You’re unfucking believable.” Refusing to give into him, you walked to the table but ignored the seat he held out for you. Instead, you took another empty seat.

He smiled, and started pouring you a glass of wine. When he tried to hand it to you, you stared back at him defiantly. “Not in the mood.”

“It’s your favourite.”

“Not anymore. You’ve ruined it.”

He smirked. “Fine. More for me then.” Deliberately making a show of enjoying the wine, he held your gaze.

“Tell me what I have to do to get Calvin away from you.”

There was that dark glint in his eyes again, the one reminding you of who Billy truly was. “Let’s have dinner first.”

“I’m not eating with you.”

“If you want to save Calvin, you will.”

You shook your head. “That’s how it’s gonna be from now on, isn’t it? You think this is how you’ll control me. You’re exactly like Alistair.”

“I’m nothing like him.” Jaw clenched, eyes darkened with anger, he moved towards you. A part of you was glad for striking him where it hurt but you didn’t like the closing distance between you two. Especially when he sat next to you.

You didn’t like his proximity, the way his body was turned to you. You were the sole focus of his attention and it made you uncomfortable, reminding you of how easily he played you in the past.

“I don’t want to control you.”

The softness in his voice was a ruse, you reminded yourself.

“That’s not what this is about,” Billy continued.

“What is it gonna take for you to let him go?”

He paused a few seconds before answering. “This. I want this. Dinner. The two of us. Every night.”

“Why? What are you hoping to get out of it?”

“I just want to have dinner with you. That’s all.”

“But it won’t stop at dinner, will it?” You sent him a bitter smile. “How long before I have to fuck you?”

“You’re the one who keeps bringing up sex.” He smirked. “Do you want to fuck me?”

“Go to hell!” His eyes wandered over your face, like he was memorizing every inch of you – and it made your heart beat faster. Immediately you chastised yourself. “How long do I have to suffer these dinners with you?”

“Three months.”

You scoffed. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

He shrugged his shoulders. Throwing one arm around the back of your chair, he leaned in. “This is what I want. Three months. After that, I’ll let him go.”

“You’re gonna hold him hostage until then?”

“Don’t worry about him. He’s being looked after.”

“I’m supposed to take your word for that? How do I know you haven’t killed him already?”

“I haven’t. But if you want proof, I can show you.”

Your face twisted with disgust. “You’re getting off on this, aren’t you?”

He didn’t respond, still peering at you closely. When his fingers slowly smoothed over the loose strand of your hair, you steeled yourself to his touch. “That’s not why I’m doing this.” There was longing in his gaze, his voice hoarse with emotion.

It was incredible how convincing he could be but you saw him for what he was – a manipulator.

You touched his hand to brush him away but the instant you made physical contact; sparks flowed through your veins. You withdrew immediately. “Then tell me why.”

A heavy sigh escaped him, he finally leaned back against his chair and you breathed a sigh of relief. “I love you. And I want you to love me back.”

The sheer audacity of his response, how he casually stated his intention – it was so flabbergasting that you couldn’t help but laugh. You laughed and laughed, while he simply studied you with a serious expression on his face. And when you struggled to catch your breath from laughing so hard, he handed you the glass of wine from earlier. This time you took it, your throat parched, and swallowed most of it in a big gulp.

“Easy there.”

You put down the glass. “You’re unbelievable.”

“You wanted the truth.”

“Oh, I know.” You gave him a condescending smile. “So I fall in love with you in this pipe dream of yours, and then what? You dump me? Humiliate me again? This time in front of dear old Gramps and the whole family?” Your smile stiffened. “Is that the plan, Billy?”

His voice was sincere, regret looming over his face. “I’m sorry about what I said to you at the wedding.”

“Nothing you said or did was a surprise. It’s what I expected from you.” It wasn’t true, he shattered you that night and made you doubt yourself – but you would never admit that to him. You stood up, casting him a snide glance. “You want me to be your puppet? Fine. I will. Because you’re holding someone I care about hostage. But don’t think for a second I’ll buy your bullshit act. I know you. I see you.” You bent forward so that you were at his height, staring into his eyes directly. “And I’ll never love you.”

Grabbing the bottle of wine, you turned your back on him and sashayed back to your room.

A/N - Sorry about the long wait, lovely readers. With the holidays and me getting into another fandom, I was a little negligent towards GY. But I'm back now :) Hope you enjoyed the chapter. And, as always, comments are loved and cherished :)

#billy russo x reader #billy russo #ben barnes #the punisher #grudgingly yours

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dollydaisies · 8 months

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Can I pls request a BTS reaction? They have a crush on their friend who is not a celebrity, so they can't confess to her because of their reputation/job, but they are really close. One day someone from their company revealed a sensitive information about them. So, the members and the company accused her of it because they thought that she was only with them to become famous. They didn't believe her and also told her many hurtful things. But later it was revealed that it was not her but someone else and she was telling the truth. Later they try to reconcile with her and asks her to forgive them but it was too late. Can you please write it as angst?

If it's too specific for you, you don't have to write it. Thank you anyways ☺️☺️

my first ask! thank you so much for sending this! my bts skills may be a tad bit rusty, so i'm sorry if this isn't up to par with your expectations. im doing allll the research i can! some things may be changed up a bit, but i'm trying to stick to your prompt the best that i can!

summary: forbidden love hurts, and it sometimes builds up frustration inside you, which then turns into flipping out on the person you love nonsensically solely because you're overwhelmed. they had to learn to think before they act, and, now, they're suffering from the consequences of their actions.

characters: just to test the waters and see if you like what i'm doing, i am only doing kim namjoon. if you like this, i will continue with the other members i’m comfortable writing! please tell me if i did well or was a lil' off. i'll always take constructive criticism:)

kim namjoon never meant to hurt anyone, but he especially made sure that he would not hurt you. he cares about you so much, to the point where seeing you even slightly sad could mess up his whole day.

you're bts's songwriter and producer, but also their friend. when they make plans, they want to include you, always. even if they go to the beach for a run bts episode, they want YOU to be there after the cameras are off. of course, every single member of the group wants you to be around, but namjoon insists on it. you're his safe place, the person he confides in when times get hard--why wouldn't he want you there?

"are you sure you don't want to come with us on this tour?" namjoon looks at you with full passion in his eyes. he wants you to come with them, even if he won't directly say it. "you know that we will always want you to come with, right?"

that little "we" always gets you every time. sure, you know that it's true, and so does he, but that's not what you want to hear and that's not what he wants to say. you want to hear him say "i want you to come with," but it feels like he refuses to say it. he's only not saying it because it'll make his feelings too real, and he can't deal with the reality that you can never be his.

"ah, i know, joonie... but i need to work on the ideas you all gave me for this next album. it's the final one before you all go on hiatus, so i can't take a break," you respond, playing with your bowl of ramen without eating it. you're the only two in the kitchen, and it's quiet. "i'd love to go, but i just can't afford to right now. you know i'm short on money."

namjoon sighs, but nods. "i understand. it's just gonna be hard to be on tour without you."

you send him a sweet smile, then giggle softly. "you're such a baby, did you know that?"

"it's our little secret, keep it hush."

that wasn't the secret that destroyed everything you've built with him over the past decade, but it was more of a foreshadow. you felt excited at the idea of having a secret with him, but also dread--this is silly, though. you guys have thousands of secrets. you're best friends, and you always have been, so why is your gut telling you to fight or fly?

around a week later, dispatch reports on news that namjoon has never told a soul about--except for you. the moment his brain processes the information told to him by the higher-ups, he immediately gets up from his seat and marches to your usual spot that you linger in.

"get out."

"huh?"

your face is full of pure confusion, a bit like a deer in headlights. sure, you've had your arguments and fights before, but he has never been this harsh off the bat--hell, he was rarely ever truly harsh.

the way his eyes look at you with pure disgust, and the sarcastic laugh he lets out... it feels like you don't know who's standing in front of you. yeah, it's namjoon, but... it's also not.

"i knew you were desperate for money, y/n, but i didn't think you'd be this desperate. if i knew you were like this, i would've fired you sooner."

"namjoon, what the hell are you talking about?" you stand up from your seat, yelling at him a bit. it's obvious you aren't even mad, you're just a mix of confused, scared, and worried.

"you know what i'm talking about, y/n. hell, the rest of the world does as well, since you decided to go to dispatch about it."

he holds up his phone so you can look at the site he pulled up. you scrolled and scrolled in pure shock, confusion, and disgust. "i... namjoon, i did not rat you out to anyone. why would i?"

"people like you only care about money. figure it out, and get out of this dorm."

absolutely stunned, you walk to the door in complete silence, then turn around. he looks a bit lost in thought, then he finally sees you. you, whose eyes are full of tears; you, whose cheeks are red due to how panicked you got from him yelling; and you, who refused to yell at him back even when he disrespected you.

while he was so sure he was right, a pit in his stomach grew larger. he feels like he’s doing something bad, something wrong, and he doesn’t know why.

"i just want to say," you pause for a second, then continued. "if this is the real you, kim namjoon, maybe i should've been the one to expose you after all."

you slam the door.

months have passed, and you work at a local music store. sure, you write songs still, but they're not for anyone else except you. you refused to talk to all of them, talk about all of them, or even think about any of them. in your mind, bts disbanded the second he broke your heart, and your trust. truthfully, it’s unfair, as all the other members have texted you so many times and begged for a response, but you can’t think of them without thinking of him.

the store is completely empty, so you're scrolling through every single social media app you have downloaded brainlessly. the words you're reading are not completely processing in your head at all, they kinda just look like funky shapes.

one title, though, caught your attention.

"kim namjoon talks about trust, compassion, and friendship in recent SEVENTEEN interview."

your jaw clenches, and you slam your phone down. your tears are threatening to come out, but you refuse to let yourself still be hurt by him. he doesn't deserve your time, your tears, your anything. that's, at least, what you keep trying to convince yourself of, anyways.

the bell at the door rings, and you try to regain your composure. you

"welcome to good vibes, home to all of the--"

you freeze. you don't know what to do, what to say, or how to even move. are you supposed to say anything? it's not like he’s saying anything—hell, he has a mask over his face and a hood on his head, but you KNOW it’s him. now, he’s just staring at you blankly. you’re wearing a mask, so maybe there’s a chance—

“y/n,” namjoon softly says your name, and your heart pangs against your chest. it’s a mix of heartbreak, anxiety, and all the leftover love you have for him. “i was looking for you.”

you’re so nervous, you could burst into tears. you want to hop over your desk and run into his arms and tell him how much you miss him, but also how much you hate him for hurting you so much. why do you still love a man that said such unforgivable words?

“why?” your words were a bit breathy, and you began to chuckle a bit while shaking your head. “there’s nothing left to say—unless, y’know, you’re gonna tell me all i care about is money again because i have a job.”

“i’m sorry,” namjoon sighs, then walks to you. the desk separates you, but you wish you could fall into his arms. you keep your composure all the same, though.

“that day, i was so stressed. it felt as if so many things were happening at once, and to know that a secret that i only told you got out… i felt so much betrayal all at once, i didn’t want to hear you out. if i’m being completely vulnerable, i wanted to go cry,” he let out a small chuckle.

looking at you, your face was completely unreadable. it’s like you were thinking of so many things, but also of nothing at the same time. was he doing well? he doesn’t know. he’s just going with what he feels in his heart.

“in my heart, i knew i should’ve ran back to you and apologized; in my heart, i knew i should’ve heard every single word you said, because you would never lie to me,” namjoon balls his hands into a fists, then looks at you in the eyes, “so i’m sorry it took so long for me to realize that i was wrong.”

the store was tense, and all you could hear is the music playing so softly in the background as you stare at him. he’s trying to read your expression, to see if there’s any bit of leftover love in your eyes, but it just feels cold.

after a minute, you begin to laugh. it’s a full laughing attack, actually, and namjoon just stares. his heart dropped to the bottom of his stomach, because he’s not stupid—he knows this means he’s fucked up.

“what, did you think was a kdrama, namjoon? did you think i was going to hear that apology, jump into your arms, and say, ‘oppa, never hurt me ever again!’ or something?” you say these words while still laughing, and namjoon is still stunned. “what happened for you to come up here and say this to me? based on your new change in personality with… hating poor people and all, i can’t imagine you just woke up one day and did it.”

“we found who actually did it. it was our stylist, sooyoung.”

“so that’s what it took for you to finally realize i was innocent? instead of thinking back ro everything you said to me and how hurt i was, it took them finding out the real person behind the crime for you to realize i was telling the truth?”

you slam your hand on the desk, and your body is trembling. you’re on an adrenaline rush, but you’re also sad, scared, and angry. namjoon notices this and places his hand on yours, like he always used to.

“y/n, you’re shaking, please ca—“

“i don’t give a fuck, namjoon,” you yell, and namjoon is completely frozen. “i’ve known you since you were a trainee, and, yet, you still thought that i was some… freaky gold digger that would sell her friends out for money. do you know how much that hurts? to know that you think i have the potential to be like that?”

namjoon’s eyes begin to tear up, while your eyes have already overflown. your cheeks are entirely red, and you let out a choked sob. your head drops, and you let out a dry chuckle.

“for over a decade, i have been nothing but loyal and true to you; yet, it takes a full-blown investigation for you to realize how you did me wrong,” you then look up at him with no sympathy in your body. “it’s my turn to tell you to get out, namjoon. and, for your sake, never come back. i never want to see you again.”

he hesitates to walk away, and you’re staring at him, emotionless.

“what, are you deaf? get out.”

namjoon finally leaves, walking quickly towards his car, and you fall to your knees. you’re on the cold floor, shaking and crying, as you realize your life will never be the same ever again.

#bts #bts scenarios #bts x reader #namjoon scenarios #namjoon!‎ ‎𖹭 #namjoon x reader

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tiddygame · 4 months

Text

Ghoap god type au part 3!

part 1 /// part 2 /// part 3 /// part 4 /// part 5 /// part 6 /// part 7

Their first official meeting face to… well, almost face. Soap’s doing his best.

[Disclaimer: I have been fiddling with this for ages, and just like everything else i’ve written, i’m not quite happy with it but i’m done looking at it. sorry if it’s awful lmao. also it’s around 5 goddamn thousand words]

Another battle won, another victory to add to the general’s reputation, and another fight that left Ghost feeling empty.

Part of him hated that he had become a disciple for the god of death. It was hard not to notice the changes that started after he first left an offering for the god. The way he felt a little less alone, the way enemy arrows would occasionally miss their target, the way the aches of battle faded much sooner, the way the world seemed a bit brighter. The way it gave him hope.

Hope was a dangerous thing. It tricked him into thinking he was meant for more than just dying on the battlefield. Made him believe that he could have a happy ending.

In reality however, Ghost would live and die a prisoner, having forgotten the taste of freedom. The world was not bright. It was cruel. If there were any good in the world, the other side would have won. Would have slaughtered them like pigs.

Instead, they lived to fight another day. Once the wounded were stable, they moved on. Found a spot to camp on a riverbank. As always, Ghost ran off. Let himself indulge in the falsity of hope.

By now, everyone in the camp was used to his routine. The only one brave enough to confront him was the general and so long as he returned to be his rabid dog whenever he needed, he learned not to care.

So, he left. Continued his search for more temples that once housed devout believers of the god of death. He appreciated the distraction from the real world, a short respite found in half-mindless wandering through abandoned cities or overgrown forests.

Ghost still knew very little about the god. While he knew the story of why the god had been forgotten, he still knew next to nothing about who the god was. They didn’t seem too bad at least; Ghost was still alive and has yet to be punished to an eternity of suffering.

He knew if he tried asking the god, (if he received an answer at all) it would all be what he wanted to hear and not the truth. So, he searched.

Most temples were too dilapidated to glean any information, but the little he had gathered seemed to point in a mostly positive direction. But he still needed to know more. He didn’t even know the god’s name for fuck’s sake.

Wandering through the forest, he wasn’t too worried about getting lost. It wasn’t so dense that shadows swallowed it whole and he could always follow the river to find his way back out.

Over the months spent on this routine, he’d learned a lot about how to find the temples, especially in forests like this one. It was rather simple: find a trail of slightly younger trees and follow them.

The much bigger, much older trees would outline a path that had long been lost to time. While hundreds upon hundreds of years have passed since the god was praised, the evidence was still dug into the earth.

Sure enough, after an hour or two of following a line of newer trees, he found a temple. It was the most intact one he’d found yet, all four walls still up, even if they looked ready to cave in at any moment. The only structural integrity was likely from the amount of vines slithering in through the cracks, acting as rope to hold together a building that wanted nothing more than to collapse.

The inside was surprisingly well lit. The holes in the roof that had been filled with various plants let in a soft green light. In the middle, extending from the back wall was a pedestal atop which sat crumbled rocks. As he guessed, taking a closer look proved it to have once been a statue that had either fallen prey to the passage of time or the anger of the locals.

Turning his attention to the walls, on his right was another doorway that would have led to a balcony overlooking the surroundings. Now, however, it was a simple curtain of vines leading to a pile of rubble falling down the hill. On his left was a wall of vines that was so thick, he wasn’t even sure if the wall was still there. But just peeking out towards the bottom looked to be the bottom edge of something that had been carved into the rock.

Curiosity piqued, he walked over and tugged at the ivy. Most didn’t even budge, but he was able to move enough to see that it was likely a mural of some sort. He hoped it was, at least. He was desperate for any information on who or what he’s been helping.

Pulling at the vines only resulted in his hands becoming covered in ants that had been hiding and he had a vague thought about setting fire to it, but there’s no way it would catch and if by some miracle it did, it would likely cause a forest fire. No other option readily available, he sighed and drew his knife, beginning the long and arduous process of hacking through each individual branch.

There was no easy way to do it. They clung to the wall so tightly that to try and slash them would just scrape the edge of his knife on the stone and ruin the edge. The brambles on them made him very grateful for his gloves saving him from turning his fingers into mincemeat. He worked carefully, pulling far enough to get his knife under the stems and cutting through them one by one.

It took hours of meticulous removal and a smarter man would have stopped a long time ago. But Ghost was determined now, he started the process and he couldn’t leave until it was finished.

He didn’t pay too much attention to the actual mural as he worked his way through them, waiting until he could see the full thing. At some point, he had to stop to light a small torch. Darkness having begun to set in, he didn’t notice he had cleared most of it until he took a step back.

As he suspected, it was a mural of the god, depicting some of his godly deeds. The original carving was already rather simplistic and the aging didn't help in deciphering what story it was telling. He was worried that in brushing off the dirt, the carvings would come with it, so instead he brought his torch closer and tried to figure out what he was looking at.

It seemed to be a set of stories, all of which featured the god as kind, helping people who were suffering. The first carving was of an old man on his deathbed, the god putting his hand over his eyes. The next was of parents watching as the god kissed their newborn on the forehead. The third grabbed his attention.

It was a soldier with a knife in his chest, the god holding his hand.

Months ago, Ghost had been in that exact situation. Dying was certain, and yet instead of doing whatever it is the god of death does when someone is dying, the god saved him. Healed a fatal wound with a golden scar. (And put a flower behind his ear, but he often elected not to think about that when remembering the event.)

All of the carvings were different tellings of the same story. For months he had been asking the same question with no answer: Why was Ghost’s story different?

Ghost shook his head. As always when trying to think about the why of it all, he concluded to not think about it. To just push it aside and ignore it. Whatever snake was hiding in the grass waiting to strike was too hidden for Ghost to see. Until the day comes that he gets bit, he will forget about it.

Pulling himself away from the third image, he turned back to the statue. The mural didn’t tell him anything he didn’t already know and hoped the collapsed statue would hold some answers.

Sure enough, it was still just as collapsed as before. There were marks in the rocks that proved it wasn’t the passage of time that felled it, but the anger of a mob.

Now looking at the pedestal with the torch, he saw the shadow of inscriptions on a plaque near the bottom. Kneeling down to get a better visual, he saw that it was four words written in an ancient language.

ᓭ𝙹ᔑ!¡, ˧𝙹⟍̅ 𝙹⎓ ⟍̅ᒷᔑℸ ̣⍑.

He remembered little of the translation, recognizing the third word was “of,” and after scraping through his memory, he was pretty sure the second word was “god.” Either that or fish. His memory is not that great.

____, GOD OF _____.

Well, it didn’t take a genius to deduce what the rest of it said. While he was iffy on the translations, he knew the phonetics well. Excited to possibly have the god's name in front of him, Ghost made a mistake.

Which, he would like to clarify, he knows that he’s an idiot. Stupid, dumb, anything and everything between. Obviously, common sense dictates that when you find strange writing anywhere, but especially in an ancient temple, you DO NOT READ IT OUT LOUD.

However, as previously stated, stupid dumb idiot and all that. In his defense, he wasn’t fully aware he was doing it. It had been a while since reading the dead language and the old carving made it hard to decipher the glyphs.

So, not thinking, he sounded them out. Out loud. Reading a random sentence in an abandoned temple of the god of death, who was abandoned after claims of being a monster. It was not Ghost’s proudest moment.

But, he did manage to read it, saying to an empty temple, “Sau— No… Soap, God of… Death?”

He didn’t know if he read it properly. When he had learned the script, it had been taught with handwritten letters. How they looked on a pen and paper was very different to how they looked carved into stone. He decided to risk delicately brushing away some of the dirt, following the indentation of the letters.

He was still trying to read the plaque when he became aware of someone behind him.

The hairs on the back of his neck stood up as he carefully maintained his position, not giving away that he had noticed the person. Looking out of the corner of his eye, he could see their shadow behind him and to the right.

Forcefully maintaining his casualness, he dropped his hand from the plaque and rested it on the ground as if he were just balancing himself. The other went to nonchalantly rest on the buttcap of his sword, holding it like it was happenstance for that to be the more comfortable position. He waited.

They did nothing. They did not move, didn’t take advantage of his weakness, he couldn’t even hear them breathing.

He had a sinking feeling that he already knew what was behind him. And if he was right, his sword would not save him.

Steeling himself, he stood and turned, drawing his sword. At first glance, they were not a soldier, thief, or mercenary. They drew no weapon and barely even reacted to his sudden advance.

It wasn’t human either. It… It “smiled” at him. Every fiber of Ghost’s being was telling him to run, run far away from this thing before it mauled him.

He stood still. No one can outrun Death.

His vision blurred but only when trying to look directly at the god. He was almost… translucent. When he risked a glance to the door, his image began to vibrate, like he didn’t need to hold himself together anymore.

Later, trying to recall any specific features would draw a blank. Eyes, hair, height — anything. He would question if the god had any physical form at all or if he just imagined it.

He needed to get out of there.

It seemed the god was examining him just as closely. Ghost tried to slowly back away, to inch closer to the door, but was stopped by the god circling him. Not having a secure exit made his skin crawl and he was sure to keep the being in his sights the entire time.

In the same way his eyes were warring over whether the god was there or not, he didn’t know how nervous he needed to be. The months spent offering whatever he had in exchange for company and help on the battlefield made him want to relax, to talk to him like he was an old friend.

The lifetime he spent being betrayed and getting used made him want to attack first. The back of his neck prickled at the reminder that he still owed the thing his life. He was not an old friend. He was a deity, the god of death, and would be able to kill him with ease. Ghost kept his sword level with the god despite being all too familiar with its futility.

The god, Soap, stopped his circling and stood in front of him, far too close for comfort. When Ghost backed away, he watched like he was observing a bug he found interesting.

The comparison was far more apt than Ghost wanted to think about.

“Your fellow soldiers call you Ghost, yes?”

It was the first time actually hearing the god speak and it was just as unsettling as he thought it would be. The voice reflected his flickering form, oddly deep and reverberating like it wasn’t meant for this plane.

Subconsciously, his sword slowly drifted down, no longer threatening an attack.

“…Yeah. How do you know that?” He didn’t bother trying to keep the accusatory tone out of his voice.

“I’ve been watching.”

Ghost didn’t like this. Not at all. Everything in his bones was screaming at him to get the fuck out of there. He readjusted his grip on the sword but forgot to raise it. He needs to get out. Now.

The god laughed.

“Don’t give me that look. You’re the first follower I have had in an age. What else was I supposed to do?”

Part of what made his voice sound off finally hit Ghost.

“The god of death is Scottish?” The incredulous tone probably wasn’t doing his life expectancy any favors.

“Aye. And you’re British.”

The god turned and began inspecting the rest of the temple. Ghost didn’t feel the true weight of the god’s stare until it was gone, now taking in several deep breaths as the pressure went away.

“Thanks, I didn’t notice.”

“I thought we were pointing out the obvious.”

The god smiled at him like it was a simple joke. But the annoyance was there. Even if the god was laughing now, that doesn’t mean he would still find Ghost’s disrespect funny in a few minutes. He needs to watch himself and be careful.

“Why do you look all… weird and shit?” Good job, Ghost. Real good about being careful and making sure to overthink his wording. Fucking hell, his own idiocy is going to kill him.

The god pouted his lip. Looking at Ghost with deceptively sad eyes, he asked, “Aw, are you calling me ugly?”

The god returned to examining the ruined temple. Even though he wasn’t looking, Ghost shook his head and raised his hand in a pause gesture. Gods have wiped out entire villages over less. He forced his breathing to remain normal, having to manually count it so as to not panic. Before he could backtrack and likely dig himself in a deeper hole, the god spoke.

“I am still weak. This is the first time I’ve managed to hold onto a tangible form.” Tangible was certainly one way to put it. When he ran his fingers over the ledges on the wall, the dirt and debris didn’t move. Brushing his hands through the vines led to them swaying slightly as if there were a breeze.

Ghost reminded him, “I tried giving you food. You didn’t accept it.”

The god laughed, “I know. The starving man giving the god food.” Ghost wasn’t sure if his tone was meant to be insulting or annoyed.

“Yeah?”

Soap sent him a look he couldn’t decipher, explaining, “Gods don’t eat. Not the way you do. Keep your food.” He made pointed eye contact with Ghost and winked as he said, “I prefer flowers and trinkets anyways.” He turned his attention back to the ruined mural. His eyes were wrong.

Ghost fucking hates gods. What the fuck does that mean?

He pointed out, “If you’re weak, don’t you need everything?”

“I am not that weak. Saving you hurt.”

Ghost prickled further at the reminder, taking a step back. Gripping the handle of his sword tighter, he defensively stated, “I don’t need your help.”

The god scoffed and walked towards him. Ghost tried to back up but the god was faster. The divine being put his hand on his ribs, right where the golden scar sat. With a furrowed brow he angrily stated, “This says otherwise.”

Ghost instinctively jerked away from the touch. It was staticky and cold. Wrong. It was somehow worse than human touch. He was tense, looking to see the gods reaction.

This was worse than dealing with an impatient, angry god. Those were predictable. This one has yet to give him any indication of his limits. Ghost didn’t know what would be the tipping point and could only hope that when it hit, the god would be kind enough to kill him quickly.

To his surprise, the god looked sad. His flash of anger gone and now quieter, he continued, “I was barely in time to save you.” If Ghost didn’t know any better, he’d say the god actually gave a damn about him.

But Ghost did know better. He stared at the third image on the mural. He asked the question that had been plaguing him since waking up from a deadly sleep, “You’re the god of death. Why… Why would you have run out of time? Why save me?”

He sighed, “Healing an otherwise healthy person is easy. Resurrection? Not so much. I do not control death the way people seem to think I do,” the god paused and sadly looked to the broken statue, “…or did. I can help people on their path but not change their course.”

The god was slowly walking closer. Ghost didn’t have much more space to back up, almost cornering himself, he had to angle himself more towards the door, following the wall. It allowed the god to get closer, much closer than Ghost would’ve liked, but it also allowed him to have a realistic escape plan.

Not that he’d be able to run from any god for long. The hope of success was a fickle thing.

Unaware or uncaring of his internal plight, the god happily continued explaining, “You were still on the same path, just veering to the left. Bringing someone back is possible, but not always worth it.”

Not yet learning his lesson about letting sleeping dogs lie, he poked back, “What? ‘They come back different?’”

The god gave a slight nod, “Sometimes, if their soul has been rotted or corrupted. But I meant the cost. Saving you was easy to do with all that you had given. To bring someone back from the dead… Well, there are some fates crueler than death.”

Ghost's eyes hardened, “I’m aware.” The god looked all sad again but he continued before he could interrupt, “But why did you save me?”

The god paused for a moment before simply stating, “You’re kind.”

Ghost scoffed and incredulously repeated, “I’m kind.” He nodded. Ghost continued, “So, you betrayed your own kingdom, domain, whatever to make sure I didn’t die because ‘I’m kind.’”

Soap smiled and for the first time since trying to touch his scar, reached out to him. “Exactly. I like you. You are kinder than someone in your shoes should be. That’s why I saved you.”

His hand hovered next to Ghost’s left. He was waiting for something. The god was still smiling softly at him.

He wants me to close the distance.

He’d rather the god have just grabbed him. Why was he waiting? Why was a god waiting on a mortal? Gods do not ask. They take. Why was this one any different?

When he was a kid, he’d run around trying to pet any and every dog that would let him. He would approach them slowly, holding out his hand for them to sniff. Some would approach immediately, but most took some time. They were half feral and scared of people, hesitant to even approach him.

At that moment, Ghost felt like a scared feral dog. He felt doomed, like there was no way out alive. He didn’t know if the deity was offering safety and comfort, or a quicker and less painful end. Soap’s hand was still extended, still smiling softly.

When a god asks, if you do not give, they will take. And will take more than they would have if you had handed it over to begin with. It’s best to give in before the consequences become worse.

He moved his hand into the god’s hold. It grinned. He tried not to shake.

The god rubbed his thumb along his hand, fingers trailing after an older wound that was on its way to scarring. The touch became slightly more bearable as he grew more accustomed to the peculiarities of the sensation.

After a pause, Ghost shakily contested, “I am not kind. I have more blood on my hands than everyone in the military camp combined.”

Soap, unperturbed, continued messing with his hand, watching the way his fingers bent and twitched. Not looking up, “I said kind, not a pacifist.”

Ghost tried to speak up. The god interrupted. The touch graduated into practically feeling each individual muscle in his arm, like he was trying to remember how a human body is supposed to look.

“However, if you want a more tangible reason, I did, and somewhat still do, owe you.”

Ghost didn't buy it for a second. "What? A god owing a mortal?"

Soap made eye contact once more. Ghost didn’t realize how close he had gotten. The god looked more human, but more wispy as well. His eyes didn’t make Ghost want to turn away before he turned to flame, but he could also see more of the temple through him. Perhaps their meeting would not last much longer.

“I’m sure you are aware that gods can die. the only reason I was still alive was because people would pass the ruins of my temples and remember me.”

He shifted to Ghost’s right and reached for his other arm. Doing the same hovering hesitation, Ghost simply nodded in approval. The god turned his focus to his right hand now, letting go of the left. He did the same examination as before, feeling over his knuckles and trailing what veins he could see up his arm.

…When had Ghost sheathed his sword?

His left arm tingled. He had to tell himself that he did not miss the touch.

“But no one believed in me. I was waiting for another thousand years when I’d be forgotten and could finally die. You not only saved me, but you gave me hope as well.” He accentuated the word by squeezing his arm, or trying to at least. He seemed to be fading fast.

With something in his eyes more earnest than Ghost was used to seeing on even a mortal, the god said, “So yes, I still very much owe you.”

The earnestness was gone and in its place, a joking tone as he continued, “Though, if it’s you I am indebted to, I don’t think that’s too bad of a fate.”

Ghost asked, “So… I don’t owe you a debt?”

Soap looked genuinely confused, “Why would you owe me?” With the way he tilted his head, he almost looked like a confused puppy.

Ghost was at a loss, having no idea how to answer that. The idea that gods just wanted to fuck over everyone they could for their own amusement was so ingrained that to try and put it into words felt impossible.

When he didn’t answer, Soap spoke again, “I like you alive.” His hands moved, one going to feel the pulse point on his wrist and the other sitting over the left side of his chest, feeling his heart. Like he was making sure he was still alive.

The confused furrow did not leave Ghost’s brow at the explanation and he was sure Soap could feel the way his breathing and heart rate kicked up at the touch. He couldn’t tell if he wanted to lean into it and beg him to never let go or skin himself to be rid of the feeling.

“Besides,” Soap said, making eye contact once more. He grinned. It didn’t look human. “I’m not letting you go that easy.”

Ghost ripped himself away, finally in the doorway of the ruined temple. The orange light indicated that dawn was well on its way. He could not hear any birds chirping nor any leaves rustling. It was still smiling from the edge of the shadows.

The god spoke, “I hope we can meet like this again. I had fun.” With that, the divine being stepped forward into the light and fully faded at last.

Ghost took in several deep lungfuls of air. He stood frozen, watching as if waiting to make sure the god did not return. In truth, he was frozen. When it came to fight, flight, or freeze, he thought he had trained himself out of the latter two options.

But he stood there, terrified to move. He didn’t even shift his weight. It felt like to move was to acknowledge what had just happened, and to acknowledge it was to cement it as reality.

A childish part of him hoped he would wake up to find it was all a dream. Forcing himself to turn his back to the door, he ignored the way his back burned at being exposed and unprotected.

He absentmindedly made the long trek down the hill and to the river. He detached his scabbard and kneeled, splashing his face with water, the coolness of it shocking his system.

He turned to the left and vomited. He was shaking so much he almost collapsed. Locking his elbow, he was barely able to balance just to wipe his mouth.

He turned back to the water. Took in a deep breath and submerged his face. He stayed there, pushing the limit of how long he could stay under. His heart was racing, demanding air. He could feel it rattling against his lungs.

Just as the dizziness and weakness began to take hold, he ripped himself up. Taking long, heavy deep breaths, he looked up. Watched as the last of the stars faded into an orange and blue sky.

Stories and warnings from priests came crawling back to him. About what the presence of The Old Gods could do to a mortal. If he was shaking, vomiting, and scared stiff from seeing him while he was still weak…

Good gods, how powerful can this stupid motherfucker get?

He hasn’t felt so… so… so much in a long time. His brain was warring with itself over how he should feel about the interaction. Part of him felt hopeful, thinking that perhaps he might now have someone who actually cares about him and not what he can do for them. Part of him felt so hopeless that he didn’t see the point in getting up, in doing anything other than trying to die before he could cement his fate as a god’s new favorite human plaything.

He blinked and forced his mind to stop. The birds had returned, singing once more. He stood shakily, grabbing his sword and using it to help him up. It sank slightly in the mud.

Day officially broke. In the forest, shadows turned and ran to hide behind the trees. Animals were just starting to wake, some heading to the river to drink.

Ghost stepped into the water, following it downstream and letting the rush of water cover his tracks. The rapids threatened to sweep him away with every step, rocks underfoot falling prey to the force.

By mid morning, the river led him back to the camp.

The other soldiers stopped and stared upon noticing him but did not say a word. In fact, they fell completely silent seeing him wading through water that would drown a lesser man, muddy sheath in hand, soaked to the bone.

He stepped onto the shore, walking at the same slow speed he had in the water. The general, having noticed the sudden silence stepped out of his tent, demanding to know what the problem was. Seeing Ghost, he hesitated before demanding his attention.

Ghost was already on the path towards him. Face to face, the general hesitated, mouth moving but no words spilling forth. Ghost informed him that he was going to go to sleep. The general had yet to find his voice.

Ghost walked to his tent. Dropped his sword. Lied on his cot. He stared at the canvas above him, forgetting to remove his armor and gear.

When he got like this, feeling disconnected from not just his body but his soul as well, he tried to take stock of himself. Mentally document every ache and pain, how his clothes felt, even what the weather was like.

Instead he became aware of one sensation in particular, one clinging to both of his arms, his chest, and a small part of his lower ribs.

Everywhere the god had touched him felt electric.

How long has it been since someone touched me without hurting me?

He wondered why his skin still tingled. Why he missed the feeling.

#soap is kicking his feet twirling his hair and ghost is scared for his life #soaps doing his best alright #old gods this old gods that. simon pretty much went into sensory overload because someone was nice to him #and two things:#yes the mural was inspired by the painting of the grim reaper in white #and this will be the last update to this but just for a bit cause i want to try to do something for mermay #emphasis on try #words have not been wording #ghostsoap #soapghost #ghoap #queue #forgotten death au #me try not to over tag and over explain everything challenge (impossible)#once more posting this right before i sleep #if you’re reading these tags goodnight drink water and i hope sleep comes easily to you when you lie down

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yanderes-galore · 1 month

Note

Oh wow just thought of a terrible scenario for darling. Jealous Frank Morrison carving out his name on darling's body.. Mayhaps with a little addition when darling finally dies and they end up near campsite... they notice that the wound hadn't healed at all :)

Yet another day of making darling suffer.

May be short, but I promise I made it disturbing >:)

Branding

Yandere! Frank Morrison Short

Pairing: "Romantic"

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Possessive behavior, Swearing, Blood, Sadism, Murder, Darling "dies", Gore?, It's short but dark as hell, THIS IS NOT LOVE, Forced "relationship".

"You think what you're doing is fucking funny, love?"

Frank's voice is in a predatory growl, his knife and clothes already slick with blood. This trial hadn't really gone as planned... for you. You were purposefully made to be the last one left... your fellow survivor being hunted down like dogs.

Tears run down your face at the pain in your body. Frank had pulled up your stomach with his blade to your skin. He had started with lightly scratching the surface in what felt like letters.

You only knew they were letters by the time he had finished carving the 'F'....

"You know how fucking tempting you are? Running around with those other pests, acting all cute?"

You don't give much of a response other than a pained squeal, Frank cutting the knife deeper into your flesh. He cuts an 'R' into your flesh, the blood pooling from the carving and onto the grass below. Frank heaves a sigh, using a sleeve to wipe the blood away from the skin so he can continue.

"I don't like seeing you with them. Almost envious, really." Frank chuckles yet you can hear his exasperated tone. "I really think it's about time I mark what's mine, yeah?"

You can only whimper, shaking as you stare up at the masked killer in front of you. Blood... both yours and someone else's... stain his outfit. You feel your vision blur... only for you to scream again, your vocal cords raw.

On goes the 'A'... a sickening sound of flesh being torn on your stomach making you nauseous.

"Sweetheart, your screams are always my favorite..." Frank sighs in a dreamy tone as he continues his handiwork. "Tell you what... I'll only do my first name. I may lose you before I can finish the last name...."

Blood splurts onto your skin and the ground. You shake and shiver due to the blood loss. Frank only seems to be irritated by this fact....

"Ugh... Don't you dare take them yet..." Frank growls out, no doubt to The Entity as he quickly begins to cut an 'N'.

"Almost done, baby..." Frank whispers, looking you over. He clicks his tongue when he sees you barely reacting anymore. At this point you must be numb to the pain. Or barely conscious....

Frank lightly taps your face, cupping a cheek as you weakly look at him. You look so cute when tired... no matter the cause. Oh, and blood red looks stunning on your face to him.

"Stay with me, yeah? It's a shame if my favorite survivor leaves me so soon..." Frank sighs, hearing a breathy yet tired scream leave your throat as he finishes the 'K'.

"I want all those other friends of yours to know I claim you. Actually, not just them... those other freaks should know too." Frank grumbles, wiping your sore skin to view the bloody brand.

F, R, A, N, K...

'FRANK.'

"Looking good, baby..." Frank whistles, glancing at your form... the skin turning pale. "Well, I thank you for playing such a game for me... but I should really be merciful, yeah? I care about you, after all. Even if you piss me off by relying on those 'friends' of yours..."

You don't have the energy to fight when Frank places his blade to your neck, his mask grinning down at you.

"Until next time, baby..." Frank coos.

Before you can feel the blade cut into the flesh of your neck, you wake up with a gasp.

You look around quickly, adrenaline coursing through you. Your heart only slows when you see the haunting campfire in front of you. By this point... you've become used to such monstrous loops.

What you weren't used to was a sudden pain on your stomach.

You flinch, the pain an aching sting as you sit up from your spot. Your fellow survivors give you a look of worry, but you wave them off. You shouldn't be feeling any pain... The Entity usually keeps the survivors in good condition so they can perform for its many trials and games.

You stay away from the other survivors yet keep yourself in the campfire's light. Cautiously, you lift your shirt. Only to feel your heart stop when you see the cause of your pain.

You can't believe it, you even trace the scars with your hand... only to flinch back when you feel a sharp pain.

You wonder if this is some cruel joke The Entity decided to play on you... it has to be.

Regardless of what it is... engraved on your stomach is a simple yet dreadful name... a grim reminder of your situation...

'FRANK'.

#yandere dead by daylight #yandere dbd #yandere the legion #yandere frank morrison

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4dkellysworld · 1 year

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When suffering happens

When unpleasant things happen in life, in an effort to understand it and find peace, we (our egos) often either try to find reason and understand why something happened/is so or immediately jump to conclusions and label it, often linking it to our identity like "oh it's because I am _____" or "it's because I did/thought/felt _____ which caused this, I shouldn't have done that!" or "This always happens to me ugh!!!" yet I find this habit ends up causing more harm than good and it is this self-identification that then ends up causing further spiralling and a pattern of similar events later in the future.

M: Detach yourself from all that makes your mind restless. Renounce all that disturbs its peace. If you want peace, deserve it. Q: Surely everybody deserves peace. M: Those only deserve it, who don't disturb it. Q: In what way do I disturb peace? M: By being a slave to your desires and fears. Q: Even when they are justified? M: Emotional reactions, born of ignorance or inadvertence, are never justified. Seek a clear mind and a clean heart. All you need is to keep quietly alert, enquiring into the real nature of yourself. This is the only way to peace. Chapter 8: The Self Stands Beyond Mind - I Am That, Nisargadatta Maharaj

Leave poor Vanessa alone and stop assigning her the responsibility and accountability of everything that the dream shows. The entire dream is all an expression of the Infinite Being, not hers (the ego) which she is just one more creation of. And it doesn't have to be your (the Self's/I AM's) dream anymore when you stop identifying with it.

This is why it's so important to let go of our ego, to let go of the unpleasant thoughts with indifference, reject any claim over them and detach any association with your I AM (the Self's identity) rather than intellectuallise what happened with the mind. You can cut it off and break the cycle right there.

Understanding this was truly the turning point that launched me into earnest and honest study of 4dbarbie's teachings and by extension, Lester Levenson and Nisargadatta Maharaj's teachings. I was just so sick of going through the same shit, being stuck in the trenches and going nowhere. At some point you're going to get so fed up that you just want to give it all up and not care about anything anymore.

The thing about nothing though is that it's the only thing that can take the shape of everything. 1

Isn't it so much more freeing to just say "fuck it all, it doesn't make sense and I don't care to think about it anymore. This isn't mine", let it go and move on?

Imagine you see a random couple out in public fighting about all their relationship problems openly. What goes through your head when that happens? For me, I go "phew yikes, I'm glad that's not me. Not my circus, not my monkeys. Not my problem", feel a sense of relief and gratefulness that it's not my burden to bear and move on with my day.

When nonsensical or unpleasant things happen in your life, treat it the same way you do when nonsensical or unpleasant things happen in your sleeping dreams for they are both I AM's imaginary creations. Just let it go, detach it from Self and move on - no matter what happens, it is not yours.

Important distinction: I am not saying to physically ignore your body and ego's needs, do what needs to be done but you (the Self) do not have to identify with it, you do not have to claim it as yours. You know it's not you and you are just observing everything, unaffected.

"When the mind is quiet, we come to know ourselves as the pure witness. We withdraw from the experience and its experiencer and stand apart in pure awareness, which is between and beyond the two. The personality, based on self-identification, on imagining oneself to be something: 'I am this, I am that', continues, but only as a part of the objective world. Its identification with the witness snaps." Chapter 6: Meditation - I Am That, Nisargadatta Maharaj

Stop trying to find reason as you are only further sustaining its reality by doing that.

"By resisting evil, you merely strengthen it." Chapter 72: What is Pure, Unalloyed, Unattached is Real - I Am That, Nisargadatta Maharaj "You may try to trace how a thing happens, but you cannot find out why a thing is as it is. A thing is as it is, because the universe is as it is". Chapter 4: Real World is Beyond The Mind - I Am That, Nisargadatta Maharaj

Just let it go. Letting go is what gives ultimate peace and freedom.

Not yours, remember? Repeat. Not yours. You won't lose your mind, you'll only lose your misery. See this world and the body as not real first. What is true is only what I AM is identified with, right now this body which is not in that TV show (your desired reality). Correct this first by letting go of thinking it's you 2

Just let go of the ego, that’s how simple it is.

#writings #non duality #non dualism

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furiousgoldfish · 2 months

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personal post (tw: suicidal ideation, detailed descriptions of psychological and emotional abuse, osdd, alters, theories about alters splitting)

I have a child alter who is wildly suicidal, to the point where they'll push me to commit suicide with every opportunity, and try to do psychological damage to me as an attempt to make me suicidal. I've been trying to figure out for years what was it that made them so determined to die, with no luck because this alter does not give any information away, and seems to hate me and my attempts.

Recently I've had a flashback where I remembered what it was like to be their age. It felt like I had to die. There was constant pressure, almost like a duty, that I have to be thinking about ending my life at all times. I needed to make sure I wasn't alive for long. And I felt this at all times, that continuing to be alive is a failure and I need to do whats right. It was bizarre to remember. But there had to be a reason I felt this.

I attempted again to probe at the alter, to try and figure out whats the reason for all this, what was done to us to make us so determined to die? And this time I managed to get a little bit of information – the the alter lashed out at me saying 'well there's no other way! remember this!' and I got some interesting flashbacks of psychological abuse. I knew vaguely this was going on, but forgot for the most part, that it had any effect on me. (tw for the next part)

When I was about 8 or 9, I got my own room, and one of my caretakers, my grandmother, had an issue with that. Until then, she was able to lock me in her own room and beat me, because I slept in there, but now it was a bit more difficult to catch me. So, she would often stand in my doorway, and scream at me, for hours, in bouts of intense rage. I thought this was normal at the time, just because it was so common, and nobody did anything to stop it.

She would start by calling me animal names, and demonic names, telling me that I'm the most selfish brat to ever exist who only ever thinks of themselves, and I will burn in hell for it – she would describe it in detail how I would be boiled eternally, there was no escape from it. Then she would go on to tell me how everything that is wrong in the world is directly my fault – my parents fighting, other people being upset, her entire life and misery, that was all on me, I was the direct cause of it. And then, she would go on to describe in detail, how she was going to kill me, usually suffocating me with her bare hands. And she would swear and promise that she would do it, she'd challenge me to not even think that it wouldn't happen. And then she'd go on to describe how much I deserved that, how everything I do in life is done directly to ruin her life, to cause her misery, how I'm a demon who is only happy when she suffers, how I satisfy myself by torturing her, how I am the most twisted, cruel, despicable, demonic, monstrous, unforgivable, horrendous ugly creature that ever existed, worst person in the entire world, and how I should be deeply ashamed of myself and everything I've ever done. She would state very clearly how everything in the entire world would be better if I didn't exist.

Now, me being age 9 or something like that, I thought, well, maybe she's right, maybe I am a bad person, maybe I am selfish by not forfeiting every second of my life to others, maybe I really am the reason everyone is fighting all the time, maybe I could have stopped it. Maybe I need to think about others more often, maybe I need to be more critical of myself. But, no matter how much I changed my behaviour, her rage wouldn't stop, until I was faced with the inescapable feeling of just being so intrinsically wrong and defected that I shouldn't exist. I remember wanting to disappear, wanting to fall trough the floor and into the earth and cease and desist. I would have to spend hours and hours listening to her scream, telling me I should have been murdered the second I was born.

And at this point my father had tried to/almost killed me a few times so death felt like a very inevitable and natural thing to happen to me. I wasn't even scared of upset about it because it just seemed like one of the normal things you know? If you're small and you see things are bad you easily accept your fate. If everyone around you thinks you should die, then you will die soon and thats that.

So by the age of 13 I was full on suicidal, I saw no value in myself, I felt violence and pain was all I deserved because everyone agreed upon it, and it was what I was experiencing at all times. I couldn't stop listening to the screaming and at the end of it, I just agreed with it, it felt true, why would anyone say it so many times, with such intense rage, if it was made up? And by the person who knew me since I was born? I had no arguments against it.

And then one day I was like, wait, this will kill me. Her screaming at me will force me into suicide. I can't have that. I need to cut her off if I want to live. This person doesn't love me, she's trying to kill me. I can't keep listening to her or I'll die. And then I did the funniest thing – I stopped talking to her even though we lived at the same house. And she did even funnier thing and DIDN'T NOTICE for a FULL YEAR. Which sounds wild on the surface, but here's how it played out: She would say something to me, I would stay quiet. She would assume my answer, and say what she wanted me to say, and add 'right?' at the end. I would stay quiet. She would continue the conversation as if I had said what she imagined. And this went on for a year.

With this new situation unfolding, I became certain that she didn't love me, even though she would cry and swear how she sacrificed everything for me and was the only person who loved me and so on – I literally caught her not noticing that she's cut off for a whole year. That was some heavy evidence and I had it.

The screaming however, continued, but now I decided, hey, I don't need to listen to this shit. I would put my hands on my ears (didn't have earphones in that era) and make whatever noises to shut her out. And it worked, I became unaffected by the screaming because I was no longer listening, she eventually stopped because it became obvious that I was oblivious to it and had no reaction, and I guess that was just not fun for her. I went on to not be severely affected by whatever she said because I understood by then that she's a liar and after my life and didn't care for her antics anymore.

Now you might be noticing a lack of consistency here – just how would a child who is completely broken and suicial just snap out of it, decide to cut off the cause of suicidality and then live on to be unaffected by the same abuse that almost cost them their life until then? I originally thought it was some survival instinct kicking in, letting me know that I'm too close to death and need to be putting some boundaries in my life, but that wasn't the case. I went on to think that I was no longer affected by the years of this abuse, I never thought about it, never felt like I needed to process that, I was convinced I dealt with this as a child.

What actually happened is that I became too close to suicide and I split. My osdd figured I was close to death and something needed to be done. An alter formed who was able to contain all of that trauma inside themselves, the memories of how it felt to listen to that screaming for hours and hours until all hope was lost, until I could no longer see myself as anything but deserving of death and eternal hell. That was wrapped up and put inside a child version of myself who couldn't grow, couldn't see trough any of it, and had to stay trapped in that world, where they're always a minute away from being psychologically tortured and having their integrity assaulted in every way possible, and forced to listen how much their family members wanted to brutally murder them.

Once this alter split off, I was left in control of the body. I was able to evaluate the situation without the emotional effects of being brainwashed or tortured and decided to cut of grandmother immediately and to live my life without listening to her nonsense.

What is interesting to me is that this was the third time an alter split off in order for our life to be saved, one before was split due to my father, and another due to my grandmother, because of other nasty stuff she was doing to me. I'm trying to figure out just how neglected a child needs to be that a complete overhaul of attitude, sudden non-reactiveness to brainwashing and sudden complete apathy to screaming interactions, is just not noticed. Like this kid was close to death seconds before and now they're just fine and going on about their day ignoring everyone, and nobody noticed.

And this is not me being strong or resilient or anything like that. It was my brain tearing my memories and emotions in pieces and containing them into alters so that I would be able to live on without comitting suicide. If this hadn't happened I'd be dead. This also meant that all of that trauma would come back and make me sick for the rest of my life, or until I resolve it. That was me sacrificing my future in order to be able to survive the present. Developing trauma disorders that meant I would have to live while the pressure to commit suicide is always present in my brain, but I can resist it because I don't remember how it came to be there.

So, back to the main plot, after I finally extracted this information from my trapped, tortured alter, who just wanted to end it all, I said 'okay, well give the trauma to me, I'm older so it makes sense for me to handle it.'

I didn't handle it well. It was instant pain, dread, horror, I wanted to be dead. I was bedridden for days, kept re-experiencing the screaming, remembered how many times I listened to descriptions of myself getting murdered, felt very horrified about it, and couldn't see how I thought this wouldn't affect me. What even needs to be wrong with a person to go tell a child in detail how they're going to murder them, how is this giving anyone pleasure. Feeling very icky about that. How hard would it be not to speak out loud your children-murdering fantasies. Get a secret diary or something for heavens sake.

It's a few days later and I am feeling, kinda weak, kinda close to passing out at all times, a bit shaken, bit scared. Very betrayed. Thankfully my sense of self is enough well established that I never doubt if anything that was said to me back then was true, because I'm so disgusted with the person who said it, I'm just feeling grossed out with it. I don't think I've managed to take in all of the trauma from the child alter, it wouldn't be something I could experience in a few days, it's been years of that stuff. But I'm glad to make progress, I'm pleased that something originally nonsensical makes sense, I'm glad I can make connections to why this alter is so suicidal, and I can at least try to make it easier on them. I'm hopeful that one day this part of me won't need to be trapped in an eternal state of a child being told to die.

#osdd #alters #child alter #suicidal alter #tw suicidal ideation #tw graphic descriptions of verbal abuse #tw death mention #tw intentions of murder #tw child abuse #abusive caretakers

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