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prettybugsinbandages · 4 months ago

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Blot!reader pt. 1

This is a darker story. I suggest you refrain from reading it if you're in a fragile mental state or unable to handle darker themes.

When they all arrived in Twisted Wonderland, the reactions varied wildly; Irritation, indifference, curiosity, empathy, pity, disgust, admiration. All directed towards them—The Yuus. Not you. You didn't even seem to exist.

You aren't important. At least not enough to be a protagonist in this story all seven of them are living in.

The realization that you're alone in this world seems to hit like ice cold water dumped over your head and the chill of it creeps into your heart, freezing your veins and arteries.

You arrived the same way they did: Another world, no magic, the black carriage ride that would've seemed like a lifetime opportunity. But you aren't like the Yuus. You can't muster the determination and resolve they have to push through this unfamiliar terrain without much of a reaction. In fact, you cannot even begin to understand why none of them are upset about this.

Why? You find yourself asking over and over again and the question echoes relentlessly in your mind. Why aren't they grieving everything they've lost? Because you can't seem to stop thinking about it—Everything you've ever amounted to is gone. All your relationships, achievements, successes and lessons. Everything you've built is gone like a dream. Erased in an instant.

Hundreds—no—thousands of eyes stare at all of you. You don't have time to think about how beautiful they are. You've been stripped bare and raw of everything that ever made you you. You've been killed without ever physically dying.

As you struggle to adjust into this unfamiliar world, you can't help but admire others you share Ramshackle with. They're strong and determined, truly remarkable individuals. Charismatic and brave, they seem like the type of fictional characters the fanbase would adore—praised for the grit and unyielding stubbornness they display valiantly. Even the other students of magic descent respect them.

Sometimes you lie awake in your room—rundown and shabby, but improving. Together you're slowly transforming the dorm into something livable, maybe even inviting. During moments like these you find deep appreciation within yourself for the other seven that arrived with you. In vulnerable moments like this, they aren't companions; they're a lifeline.

Then there's you—a playground rock next to shining gems on pedestals. They reassure you that you're important. But nobody outside these croaking walls seems to believe that. The frustration builds sometimes, a tight knot in your chest just twisting and turning, and inevitably only knotting more. Curled up on the creaky floor, clutching your hair while staring wide-eyed at a single spot as if that floorboard specifically caused all of this. Tears don't seem to come; instead, you sit there, taking deep, shuddering breaths, lost in a sea of thoughts that you're drowning in.

Why? Why are you treated like a Ramshackle ghost—or even less? You all share the same origin, the same story of loss and these faux "New beginnings", so what makes you so different, so unappealing that nobody seems to want to spare more time than polite? Is it because of the fear that grips your heart? Its clutch is tight and cold, holding you to this new world full of threats hidden behind the guise of beautiful and new magic you didn't have back home.

The mesmerizing people that wield such pretty magic can control bodies while leaving consciousness intact—or the opposite. The idea of someone with malicious intent having that power over you is a chilling nightmare. You cannot simply compete for your own safety.

The inhabitants of Twisted Wonderland are simply stronger. Not just the fae, mers, or beastpeople, but even the humans. Their bodies are resilient, able to shrug off low-level magic that would leave you bloody or bruised.

At times you wonder why exactly nobody seems to care enough to remember you and there are moments when you find yourself gazing in the mirror, only met with an unfamiliar face. The reflection you're met with isn't quite yours—it's something darker, something hollow. A shadow, endless and consuming, its eyes locking with yours with an unnerving intensity. That smile, twisted in ways that were once pretty, no longer feels like it belongs on your face.

It's almost as you though you're looking at an echo of yourself, a distorted version that somehow feels both foreign and familiar, comforting in its familiarity but unsettling in its wrongness.

You blink, and the reflection moves. Just a slight shift, a creeping inch closer to the glass, closer than where you stand in reality. Your heart leaps into your throat, panic surging through you as you back away, tearing yourself from the bathroom and your own gaze. You slam the door behind you, leaning against its cold, worn surface. But even as the chill presses against your skin, it does nothing to calm the racing of your heart. The sleep deprivation is wearing you thin, and the hallucinations are becoming harder to ignore, more frequent, more real.

Ace's eyes narrow as you attempt to make small talk in the Ramshackle kitchen. He's friends with all the Yuus and quite close with them all. Deuce lingers somewhere nearby and you can hear his footsteps clomping around as he chases Grim. A soundtrack you've grown familiar with over time.

"—so yeah. He totally shrugged us off. Said we weren't 'big kid' enough to know what was going on." Ace rants, throwing his arms up in exasperation before running a hand through shaggy locks, his scarlet eyes met your own briefly before he continued rambling about something that had happened today in physed. His words swirl around you, filled with the day's energy, yet never fully reaching.

You always liked when the Adeuce duo visited. They were really only here for the others and you knew it, of course. If you remain in your room when they visit, neither boy will seek you out. They only included you in their escapades when you're right there—an afterthought. It felt cruel, like an unspoken rule of polite indifference. Nobody hated you, you just weren't important.

Deuce poked his face into the room, offering a polite wave as he rummaged through the fridge for a snack before leaning against the counter as he watched you make lunch. His expression is thoughtful and only vaguely curious.

"You don't really do anything, do you?" The words slipped out like a quiet curiosity that cut deeper than he likely intended. It's not a jab, just a question. Maybe that makes it hurt more. You felt like a rarely regarded lamp in a corner, the bulb long burned out, the shade dusty and untouched, and a soft light no longer emit from it.

You awkwardly muster a smile and try to respond—to list a reason you're worth more attention than you receive, but your voice falters. Before you can say a word, Grim streaks across the table, scattering papers and bunching up the cheap cloth. One paw hits Ace in the face and Deuce barely manages to avoid a fall with the creature darting between his legs.

Both boys shoot up, laughter and curses ringing out through the dorm as they chase Grim out of the room. You're left in the quiet, the emptiness settling over you like dust—suffocating and dull. The buzz of the kitchen light hums in the silence, a low, monotonous sound that only seems to heighten the irritation building inside. It's the kind of anger that feels pointless, but it consumes you anyway, making you feel unbearably stagnant.

Your eyes are locked on the tiles beneath your feet, the stark off-whiteness almost glaring under the dim light. You stare so intensely that your eyes begin to sting, but you can't bring yourself to look away. Something feels off, something is off.

And then, it hits you. Your oldest companion—the one constant presence you could always count on—has abandoned you. Your shadow is gone. For a fleeting moment, you feel exposed, like the absence of it leaves you vulnerable. You almost want to reach out, to search for it, but there's nothing there. The realization leaves you with a cold, sinking feeling, and the silence suddenly feels oppressive.

Your gaze pulls away from the tiles, heart racing, trying to dismiss the unsettling feeling. Turning back to the counter, you expect to regain a semblance of calm. But as you do, something catches your eye—your shadow is cast strangely, distorted in a way you don't recall. Paranoia gnaws at you, the question unanswered. Was it always like this? You couldn't even remember.

Before you could process it any further, you hear Yuuken's voice, calling you from down the hall, asking for help with the renovations.

Engaging with anyone here was an uphill battle—woundingly difficult. The conversations seem one sided, his interest always fleeting as if there's nothing about you that's all that interesting. You're invisible. Once again, feeling like a ghost, a nameless background character in a story you were pasted into, into a story that you weren't even supposed to be dragged into.

What cuts deeper like a blade into the fat layer is the reality that you're not just standing idle. You're there in the overblots, fighting every battle as if you were qualified despite being dastardly unfit for this work. Fighting just as fiercely for people who don't even dare to acknowledge your existence for longer than necessary. You've pulled people to safety, pushed others out of the way of dangerous attacks and when it's all over you're tending to the injured, soothing the boy whose overblotted until he comes to. Yet when he wakes his eyes are darting for someone else.

All you want—all you need—is a simple acknowledgement. A thanks.

Yuu is injured but so are you. "What about me?" The words slip out before you can stop them

"What about you?" He repeats as his eyes rake over your crumpled form; battered and broken.

His voice is distant, edged with a vague obligation of care or pity. "You're hurt. Staff and paramedics will be here soon. Stay put." You would've felt your heart swell to feel any sort of acknowledgement and being withdrawn from your lonely bubble but he goes ahead and says that to everyone else and the hope sputters out and fades away. Are you merely another faceless voice in the crowd?

But he's beside Yuuka and her friends, thanking them tending to the others, offering words of comfort and appreciation and a hot surge of jealousy envelops you for only a fleeting moment before it cools almost immediately. It's not Yuu's fault. She's stumbling over words, eyes darting between you and him, desperately trying to redirect all the praise.

"They helped a lot too. Don't worry about me. Please—they took a lot of hits for the team—" her voice is rushed, earnest. She sees you. She knows.

But you're numb. The words wash over you, leaving you staring blankly. Your focus sharpens as you watch him, the indifference cutting deeper than any wound from battle.

It's not Yuu's fault, you think, the realization like a blade. And it's not mine either.

Your eyes harden, the simmering negativity solidifying into something darker—hatred for this world and its unforgiving, selective gaze.

The Blot's words wrapped around you like velvet, warm and inviting. Each word a whisper, and just beyond your comprehension. It spoke in a language too rich, too layered for you to fully grasp, yet you found yourself managing a nod and agreeing to flowery promises barely understood.

Home seems too far now, a vague dream you once had a long time ago that's memories grow dim within your worn mind. Crowley's so-called "research" moves at a snail's pace, each reassurance vague and hollow with no weight behind it. They have housewardens, heirs, socialites, all silently pining to have them by their side in the end. The others have people who want them here.

When graduation comes, you know you'll be alone. No citizenship, no comforting embrace after a long day, no government papers to properly own a home, and no magic to shield you.

A higher education was beyond your reach without the proper credentials. You could aim for a trade but no reputable company would hire a ghost in the system without insurance. Shadier paths were on the table for you but you didn't want to hurt innocent people and you weren't ready to die. Not yet.

"You promise?" The words rasped from your throat, a fragile plea to the pitch-black figure—it smiles.

Snowflakes gathered on your broken body, frostbite gnawed at your fingertips and toes. The cold seeped deep, pressing kisses to your very bone marrow. The results of the accident are chilling, your body numb and your mind blocking the pain out.

"You'd accept even if I won't, darling." It purred, voice dripping with amusement and leaning over your mangled body. Once again you looked like broken porcelain. Doll carnage—too pretty to die in its eyes.

"You're going to die in that stupid uniform." It reminds with a melodious laugh escaping it, crouching so unseen eyes met yours and the empty gaze felt cold like a harpoon through your skull.

A response doesn't form just yet, instead your words linger on time quickly slipping away. "You'll make me live?"

"You make it sound like a punishment."

"It could be."

Its grin only widened. "I'll make you thrive—I'll sponsor you. Only to test magicless bodies, of course. You're soaked with hatred, my dove—enough to feed me for centuries and I just might be able to use all that to give you some fancy powers," The Blot chimed and waves it's hands around with a lighthearted laugh as if you're not mangled and dying right now.

You muster a nod and your vision is blurring quickly, adrenaline settling in as your blood pumped quickly to get you up, away from the charming danger you'd shake hands with if your body was capable of movement.

"I've waited too long.." It murmured softly, a hint of cruel reverence sends a shiver runs down your spine as the Blot's presence looms closer, its hands—tender, almost too tender—brush away strands of hair from your face, as if trying to soothe the tension there. Your body trembles under the weight of its touch, that impossible softness juxtaposed with the suffocating darkness that clings to it. The Blot's dark hands reach for you, wrapping around your shoulder and back to prop you up, not in malice but in something more unsettling, as though its cradling you like something fragile, something it fears may break at the breeze.

It laughs, a low, melodious sound, "Even a worm will turn," it murmurs under its breath, the words curling into your mind, buzzing like static. You can't focus on anything other than the overwhelming presence of it, the heat of its breath a nearly welcome sensation against the stinging snow, slowly burying you.

It'd been a few days since the accident—now you walk the halls, your feet knowing the path subconsciously as your eyes linger on the jewelry again, the weight of it palpable on your finger. The design is intricate, just as you'd always admired—luxurious without tipping over into excess, a perfect balance of elegance. But it's the stone at its center that pulls at you, black as the void. It swallows light, reflecting nothing but its own cold depth, as if it has its own consciousness. You feel it almost stare back at you.

A scoff slips past your lips, quiet but bitter. On your left ring finger... really? The symbolism is unmistakable, painfully so. The left ring finger—a spot traditionally reserved for unions of love, a mark that binds two hearts together. But for you, it's a symbol of something far more suffocating. This ring doesn't speak of affection or choice. It speaks of a contract. A binding agreement you were coerced into on the brink of death.

You'd like to think that in a normal situation you would've denied it but a voice in the back of your consciousness rejects that. You know you would have taken the deal.

Yuuta's voice comes from behind, cutting through the weight of your thoughts. You don't flinch, but his sudden presence forces you back into reality. His usual smile is present, though there's something different in his eyes today—a worry you can't quite ignore.

"Hey! You walk fast-" He pants, falling into step beside you. "Doing anything for lunch? Me and the others are... honestly really worried about you. Ever since you came back a few days ago from that night-blizzard-walk.. you've been off." His voice drops slightly as he tilts his head to try and meet your gaze.

It's hard to resist his pleading look. Yuuta has a way of being both persistent and comforting, and something about him makes you swallow your usual refusal. You nod, even though you'd planned to stay alone, to work through your thoughts—thoughts about the Blot, the contract, and the strange shift in the world since you'd returned.

Sighing inwardly, you follow him to the familiar table. As you lower yourself onto the bench, your thoughts still scattered, the sound of something unpleasant catches you off guard—a soft, squishy noise. You frown, reaching down to find a purple whoopie cushion beneath you.

Before you can say anything, Ace's laughter rings out, easily cutting through the table's chatter. "I told you it'd work! They're always in their own world, seriously."

Epel's high-five to Ace is audible, and you can almost feel their amusement. Deuce, on the other hand, shoots Ace a disapproving look. "A whoopie cushion? What are you, twelve?"

Ace chuckles, standing and grabbing the whoopie cushion from your hands before glancing back at the others, a mischievous grin still present on his face. "Firstly, I saw you laugh too, and hey, what can I say? I'm a guy who appreciates the classics." His crimson eyes flick to you, and before you can even process it, he taps the cushion gently on your head a few times. "Real spacey lately, huh?"

The words hang in the air, and for a split second, you freeze. Spacey. They're speaking first. They're acknowledging you first. After everything, after how invisible you've felt... now they decide to reach out?

Anger grows in your chest but you quickly suppress it. Your fingers instinctively brush the blot ring on your finger, feeling its cold weight. Thrive. The Blot's promise. The smile and soft words is the only thing you can offer right now, even if it feels a little too forced, too foreign on your face.

"Have I been?" You ask, the words coming out light and easygoing. "It's difficult to sleep in a rickety, haunted dorm. You and the others should sleepover more. I like the background noise."

It wasn't a full lie. You did feel less lonely when they visited, but the feeling only increased tenfold when you could hear everyone downstairs while you remained forgotten in your room. Still, you left the invitation open.

Just you wait. You thought, your smile dimming as Ace returned to his spot and the conversation flowed, your earlier anxieties and insecurities nulled by the ring thanks to the contract.

You'll ease yourself into their lives, each thread slipping through the spaces between them, invisible but vital. Not just the ones at the table, but everyone you've fought for, the ones who've forgotten you, the ones who've never seen you or bothered to try. You'll become a part of them so intertwined that they'll find it impossible to live without seeing you in every aspect of their days and nights.

In time, you'll make sure of it. You'll be everywhere—in their laughter, in their sorrows, in the smallest moments, the ones they think they can forget. They'll breathe you in without even realizing, and soon, every part of their lives will have a thread of you running through it. You'll be their lifeline.

part two

srry if its not the cute, comforting lovestory you were expecting lol

I'm sorta leaving it on an open end here to keep you all guessing ig lol. I can probably write separate minifics or whatever for this au I made or drabbles or maybe even a second chapter if anyone wants.

I wrote this in November and am posting it now so that was my procrastination ig

I've been sitting on this idea with no motivation to write it for probably two years so spare with me if it doesn't make sense or it's no good.

First time writing for tumblr and I haven't written outside of my notes app in a long time lol

#bug writing #twst #twisted wonderland #twst angst #twst x reader #blot!reader #twst fanfic #blot x reader #ace trappola #deuce spade #twst yuu #twst grim #epel felmier

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sturnioz · 2 months ago

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tw. obsessive behaviour. please read with caution. credits for obsessive!chris. @bernardsbendystraws

☆. . . CHRIS OBSESSES OVER THINGS AND gets attached pretty quickly. if there's a new game he likes, he'll continuously play it as if there's no other game in the world. if there's a song he likes, he'll have it on repeat so much that he memorises the lyrics and the instrumentals. if there's a new food he likes, he'll only eat that until the thought of consuming it makes him violently sick and he finds something different.

with people he crushes on, chris does everything and anything to be around them—forcing his way into their personal bubble and interests.

and you were his next target.

he first met you during a morning class you shared together, and you were made to sit next to him due to a minor inconvenience with another college student—bare faced, covered in an oversized red sweater, smelling like fresh strawberries and vanilla.

chris froze up in his seat, unable to draw his gaze away from the side of your head. his favourite colour is red, his favourite fruit is strawberries, and he loves the scent of vanilla candles. what a coincidence?

it's clear you did this for him.

you're perfect.

you're his.

his staring wasn't subtle, which made you feel even more annoyed than you already were from being forced to move seats, and you turn to look at him to confront him. but you see the look in his eyes—filled with want, desire, need.

a smirk slowly slithers across his lips, and he leans his elbows on the table as his eyebrow raises at your own unfiltered staring, but you tear your gaze away from him in an instant, focusing elsewhere in the room.

you begin to slowly notice the appearances chris starts to make in your everyday life; sitting near your table during lunch, studying at the library while you're there, following you on all your social media accounts, liking all your posts on instagram, and even posting stories with your favourite music attached.

he isn't slick, and he knows it.

you eventually end up cornering chris the next time you see him, especially when you catch him sitting in one of your favourite restaurants eating one of your favourite meals—which, by the way, you've never posted or hardly spoke about it in public or on your socials. you've gatekept it for so long than even your friends don't know.

chris is beaming from ear to ear when you plant yourself down in the chair opposite him, practically demanding him to answer all your questions about him knowing so much about you in such a short amount of time, but chris doesn't care, not when he finally has your attention after craving you for so long.

how you end up in a five hour long conversation with him is beyond you. you expected to be gone after confronting him on his obsessive behaviour, but you end up completely captivated by his smile and the way he talks to you, so you don't have it in you to get up and leave just like that.

he's already got you wrapped around his fingers, and he feels his obsession grow a little stronger when he manages to get a raw confession out of you.

your virginity hardly meant anything to you. you never actively went out looking for someone to hook-up with, and you weren't really saving it for that 'someone special'. it was just there, and it didn't bother you.

but somehow, you're home, your clothes thrown carelessly on the floor in a cluttered mess with chris between your legs, desperate lips biting and sucking at your skin like a starved animal, savouring the way you taste on his tongue—he's always been curious.

chris feels like he's on cloud nine once he's finally sheathed inside of your tight gummy walls, buried to the hilt with his balls pressed to your puffy folds that stretch around his cock, and his body flush against yours—sticky and sweaty.

chris could cry from delight as he cradles your cheek, a smile slipping onto his lips as he watches your face contort from pain to pleasure, feeling your nails dig into his skin and creating raw scratch marks that he can't wait to admire in the mirror later.

his grip tightens around your jaw, thumb stroking your plush bottom lip before pushing through the small gap of your mouth, pressing his thumb down on your tongue as he rolls his hips forward, sliding his cock in and out of your warmth, relishing in the sounds of your squeals and moans that fill his ears.

he's got you.

you're his.

you're all his.

divider credits. @/enchanthings-a

#chris sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo x reader #sturniolo smut #©sturnioz

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shy9-29 · 2 months ago

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One Kiss Too Far ✮ l.hs pt2

日 - stepdad!Heeseung x reader

synopsis: Your life takes an unexpected turn when your mom’s soon-to-be husband, Heeseung, enters the picture. What begins as a simple connection quickly turns into something much more complicated and forbidden. Caught between the undeniable chemistry with him and the overwhelming guilt of betraying your mom, you find yourself tangled in a web of emotions and secrets.

✉️ wc 5.2k (27.9k in total)

pt 1 · mdni · req open · masterlist

You choked.

Coughing slightly, you wiped your mouth and shot him a glare. “What?”

Heeseung set his mug down, tilting his head slightly. “You heard me.”

Your grip tightened around the water bottle. “Why would I be avoiding you?”

Heeseung took a slow step closer.

“I don’t know,” he mused, voice lower now. “You tell me.”

Your heart pounded. You should’ve walked away. You should’ve ended this conversation before it even started.

But you didn’t.

Instead, you stood there, frozen, as Heeseung leaned in slightly, his voice quieter now, more intense.

“Did you regret it?”

Your stomach dropped.

You stared at him, your lips parting, but no words came out.

Heeseung studied you, waiting.

You wanted to say yes. You needed to say yes.

But you couldn’t.

The moment stretched, the air between you charged with something you did not want to name.

And then—Heeseung smirked. Like he already knew your answer. Like you had just confirmed everything for him without saying a word.

Your breath caught in your throat. “I—I should go.”

Heeseung leaned against the counter beside you, his arm brushing yours.

“Do you want to?” he murmured.

And that—that was what made you freeze.

Because the truth was?

You didn’t.

The air between you two hung heavy, thick with unspoken tension. You felt his presence too close now, every inch of your body hyper-aware of him. Heeseung’s eyes were dark, intent on you, his gaze shifting from your face to your lips and back again.

You opened your mouth to say something, anything to break the silence, but before you could, he closed the distance between you, his hand gently cupping your cheek.

Heeseung kissed you again.

It wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t a mistake. His lips moved slowly against yours, almost like he was savoring the moment. The kiss was deep, intimate, and it felt like the world was closing in on you.

When he pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours, breathing heavily, his chest rising and falling with each breath.

“All night,” he murmured, his voice low and almost strained, “I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

The words hung in the air, echoing in your mind like a slow, steady drumbeat.

You swallowed, trying to form words, but they wouldn’t come. You could barely even breathe.

Heeseung’s thumb stroked your cheek, his eyes never leaving yours. “You’re not the only one confused, Y/N,” he said softly. “I know this isn’t easy. But I can’t stop thinking about what we’ve been doing.”

Your heart was hammering in your chest, and all you could think was how much you wanted to step away, to leave, to fix this before it all spiraled out of control.

But you didn’t. You stood there, unable to move, caught in the storm that Heeseung had stirred up inside of you.

You took a shaky breath, forcing yourself to pull away just enough to look at him. Your hands were trembling slightly, but you couldn’t ignore the knot of guilt tightening in your stomach.

“What about my mom?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Heeseung’s gaze faltered, and for a split second, you saw something in his eyes—a flicker of hesitation, a moment of doubt. But it was gone in an instant, replaced by the same intensity he always wore.

“She means everything to me,” he said, his voice steady, but his hand still resting on your cheek, as if he couldn’t quite bring himself to let you go. “But that doesn’t change how I feel about you.”

You closed your eyes for a moment, trying to steady your breath. This couldn’t be happening. You couldn’t be standing here, caught in this mess with him, especially with everything your mom had gone through.

“Does she know?” you whispered, voice trembling. The thought of your mom finding out, of her ever suspecting what had been happening behind her back, felt like a punch to your gut.

Heeseung’s eyes softened, but there was an edge of something darker in his expression. “No. And I don’t want her to know… not yet, anyway. I don’t want to hurt her.”

You could feel the weight of his words pressing on your chest, suffocating you. You opened your mouth, but nothing came out. How could he even say that? How could he stand there, looking you in the eyes, and say he didn’t want to hurt your mom?

But you were the one hurting her.

You were the one making everything impossible.

You pulled away from him, your heart racing. “This has to stop,” you said, the words coming out sharper than you intended. “This can’t keep going on. My mom… she deserves better than this. She deserves better than us.”

Heeseung didn’t answer right away. Instead, he took a step back, running a hand through his hair, his expression unreadable.

“I know,” he said quietly, the words carrying more weight than you expected. “But right now, I can’t just turn this off.”

Your stomach churned, and all you could do was stare at him, the conflict and the guilt bubbling up inside of you like poison. You didn’t want to feel this way. You didn’t want to be the one to ruin everything.

But you were already so far gone, you weren’t sure how to pull yourself out of it.

You swallowed hard, trying to find the right words to say, but the frustration and the guilt were too overwhelming. Finally, you forced yourself to ask the question that had been eating away at you.

“So you guys are gonna get married,” you started, your voice shaking with disbelief, “but meanwhile, you’re busy sleeping with her daughter when she isn’t looking?”

The words hung in the air, cutting through the silence between you two. Heeseung’s face didn’t show the shock you were expecting, but instead, there was a slight, almost unreadable expression on his face.

“I never meant for it to happen this way,” he said, his voice quieter now, more serious. “But it did.”

You shook your head, anger and guilt mixing inside you. “How is that fair to her? How is this fair to anyone? You’re gonna marry her, and meanwhile, you’re—”

“Y/N, I never wanted to hurt her,” Heeseung interrupted, his tone softer now, but still firm. “I care about her. But I care about you, too. This isn’t easy for me either.”

You looked away, not able to meet his eyes. The room felt smaller, suffocating, as the weight of everything settled on your chest. “You’re making this impossible,” you whispered, more to yourself than to him.

“I know,” he said, his voice laced with regret, “but we’re already in this, whether we like it or not.”

You swallowed hard, trying to find the right words to say, but the frustration and the guilt were too overwhelming. Finally, you forced yourself to ask the question that had been eating away at you.

“So you guys are gonna get married,” you started, your voice shaking with disbelief, “but meanwhile, you’re busy sleeping with her daughter when she isn’t looking?”

“I never meant for it to happen this way,” he said, his voice quieter now, more serious. “But it did.”

You shook your head, anger and guilt mixing inside you. “How is that fair to her? How is this fair to anyone? You’re gonna marry her, and meanwhile, you’re—”

“Y/N, I never wanted to hurt her,” Heeseung interrupted, his tone softer now, but still firm. “I care about her. But I care about you, too. This isn’t easy for me either.”

“I know,” he said, his voice laced with regret, “but we’re already in this, whether we like it or not.”

You were sitting on the edge of your bed, your hands clutching the sides of your shirt as you tried to hold back the tears. The guilt, the confusion, everything was suffocating you, and it felt like there was nowhere to turn.

As much as you tried to hold it in, the tears finally started falling. The weight of everything—your mom, Heeseung, what you’d done, and the mess you were tangled in—was too much to bear.

You barely heard the knock at your door, but it was the soft creak of it opening that made you lift your head. Standing in the doorway, her expression soft with concern, was your mom.

“Y/N?” she asked, her voice gentle but filled with worry. “What’s wrong?”

Your heart dropped, and the lump in your throat made it almost impossible to speak. You wiped your face quickly, not wanting her to see the mess you were, but it was too late. She already saw.

“You’ve been crying,” she said, stepping inside the room and closing the door behind her. Her voice was filled with concern, her brows furrowing as she sat next to you on the bed. “Baby, what’s going on? You know you can tell me anything.”

You didn’t know how to explain it. How could you tell her what was going on? How could you explain the whirlwind that had become your life in the past few weeks? The guilt, the betrayal, the confusion. It was all too much, and your mom didn’t deserve any of it.

You shook your head, your voice shaky as you tried to find the words. “I don’t know, Mom. I… I’m just… I’m so messed up.”

She took your hands in hers, squeezing them gently, her touch warm and reassuring. “You’re not messed up, sweetheart. You’ve just been going through a lot. Whatever it is, we’ll figure it out together, okay?”

But that was the problem, wasn’t it? You didn’t want to figure it out. You wanted to run. You wanted to get out of this situation before it ruined everything.

“I don’t know how to fix this,” you finally whispered, your voice breaking. “I just… I feel like I’ve done something I can’t take back. I’m so sorry, Mom. I never meant to hurt you.”

Your mom’s expression softened even more, and she pulled you into a gentle hug, her arms wrapping around you tightly as if she could shield you from whatever was troubling you.

“I don’t know what’s going on, but I do know that you’re not alone in this,” she whispered into your hair. “Whatever you’re feeling, whatever this is, we’ll face it together. Just talk to me.”

You clung to her, the overwhelming weight of everything pressing on you, but there was something about the way she held you—so steady, so unwavering—that made you want to break down completely. You didn’t know what to say. You couldn’t bring yourself to tell her the truth.

So, for now, you just cried in her arms, hoping that somehow, in some way, things would get better.

Your mom’s grip on your shoulders tightened slightly as she searched your face, her eyes filled with concern and something else—something you didn’t want to name.

“Y/N,” she said, her voice careful, almost hesitant. “Please, just tell me the truth. What happened?”

Your heart pounded in your chest. This was it. There was no running from it anymore.

You swallowed hard, your hands gripping the fabric of your sweater as you tried to steady yourself. “It’s… it’s about Heeseung,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

Her expression didn’t change at first, but you saw the subtle shift in her eyes. “What about Heeseung?” she asked, her voice tight, controlled.

You took a deep breath, your throat dry. “I didn’t mean for it to happen, Mom. I swear I didn’t. But I started feeling things for him. And then… I kissed him.”

Silence.

Your mom blinked, her lips parting slightly as if she didn’t hear you right. She took a step back, processing your words, her arms folding across her chest.

“You kissed him?” she repeated, her voice barely above a whisper.

Tears stung your eyes. “I didn’t want to, but I—”

She shook her head, exhaling sharply. “No, Y/N. You wanted to. You don’t just kiss someone by accident.”

You looked away, ashamed. You had wanted to. That was the worst part.

She pressed her fingers to her temple, closing her eyes for a moment before she asked, her voice cautious, “Did you… did you two go any further than that?”

Your stomach dropped.

You couldn’t lie. Not now.

Your silence was enough of an answer.

Her eyes widened slightly before she turned away from you, exhaling shakily. “Oh my god,” she muttered under her breath, her hands trembling as she ran them through her hair.

“Mom, I—”

“I don’t want to hear it right now.” Her voice was firm, but there was an unmistakable tremble beneath it. She was hurt. Devastated. And it was because of you.

You felt your own chest tighten as she paced for a few moments, her breathing uneven.

Finally, she stopped and turned to you, her expression unreadable. “How long?” she asked. “How long has this been going on behind my back?”

You hesitated. “A few weeks.”

She let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head. “Unbelievable.”

Tears slipped down your cheeks as you stood up, reaching for her. “Mom, I’m so sorry. I didn’t want this to happen. I never meant to hurt you.”

She flinched away from your touch, and it felt like a knife to your chest.

“I need time,” she said, her voice unsteady. “I can’t even look at you right now.”

Her words shattered you completely.

And as she walked out of your room, closing the door behind her, you knew that nothing would ever be the same again.

As your mom stormed out of your room, you wiped at your tears, your chest tightening with guilt. But before you could even process what had just happened, you heard footsteps—hers, moving quickly down the hall. And then, another pair.

Heeseung.

You stood frozen as you heard your mom’s sharp voice cut through the tense air.

“How dare you?” she seethed.

“Alice, please—”

Smack.

The unmistakable sound of a slap echoed through the house.

You covered your mouth, your breath hitching.

“I trusted you!” your mom’s voice shook with anger. “I brought you into my home, into my life—into my daughter’s life! And this is what you do?”

There was a pause, then Heeseung’s voice, lower, almost pleading. “I didn’t mean for it to happen.”

“Oh, shut the hell up,” she snapped. “You didn’t mean for it to happen? You didn’t mean to sleep with my daughter behind my back?”

Silence.

You could barely breathe.

“You’re disgusting,” she spat. “I can’t even look at you.”

Your legs felt weak as you slowly stepped toward the door, peeking out just enough to see the scene unfolding in the dimly lit hallway.

Your mom was standing there, chest rising and falling rapidly, her palm still red from where she’d slapped him. Heeseung, on the other hand, wasn’t saying anything—just standing there, his jaw clenched, eyes on the floor.

And then, without another word, your mom turned away, heading for the front door.

The house felt like it was caving in on itself.

And you knew, deep down, that nothing would ever be the same again.

The front door slammed shut, the sound echoing through the house like a final nail in the coffin. You stood frozen in place, your heart pounding so loudly it was all you could hear.

Heeseung was still there, standing in the dimly lit hallway, his head slightly tilted down, his jaw clenched. The red mark on his cheek from your mom’s slap was stark against his fair skin.

You should’ve gone back into your room. Locked the door. Pretended none of this happened.

But instead, you stepped forward.

Heeseung lifted his head, his dark eyes meeting yours. For a moment, neither of you said anything. The tension was unbearable.

Finally, you forced yourself to speak, your voice barely above a whisper. “What happens now?”

He let out a breath, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t know.” His voice was hoarse, tired. “She’s never gonna forgive me for this.”

You swallowed hard, guilt twisting in your stomach. “She’s never gonna forgive me either.”

Heeseung’s eyes softened, and he took a hesitant step closer. “Y/N…”

You shook your head, stepping back. “Don’t.”

You didn’t even know what you were telling him not to do. Speak? Apologize? Touch you? You didn’t know what you wanted—only that this was a disaster.

He sighed, rubbing his face. “I should go.”

Your heart clenched at those words, even though you knew it was the only logical thing left.

“Where?” you asked, voice quiet.

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “A hotel? Maybe a friend’s place.”

You hated the ache in your chest at the thought of him leaving. Hated that even now, after everything, you didn’t want to let him go.

But you couldn’t say that.

Instead, you just nodded. “Maybe that’s for the best.”

Heeseung hesitated for a second, like he wanted to say something else. But then he just gave you one last look before walking toward the door.

You stayed there, standing in the same spot, listening as the front door opened.

And then, just like that, it closed.

And he was gone.

Y/n: Heeseung, where are you?

Y/n: i really wanna talk

[delivered 3 days ago]

You stared at your phone, your fingers hovering over the screen as you re-read the messages. Three days. Three days of silence. Three days of your mom barely speaking to you, of the house feeling emptier than ever. You weren’t even sure why you texted him. Maybe you just needed to know if he was okay. Or maybe you needed to hear from him—to make sense of everything that happened.

The message remained unread.

You sighed, throwing your phone onto your bed and rubbing your face. Maybe he wasn’t going to reply. Maybe he regretted everything and decided it was better to cut contact.

Your stomach twisted at the thought.

You had just started convincing yourself that you wouldn’t get a response when your phone buzzed.

Heeseung: Meet me at **** parking lot. 9 PM.

Your heart skipped a beat.

You didn’t hesitate.

You grabbed a hoodie, slipping it over your tank top, and quietly made your way out of the house. Your mom was in her room, the door shut. She wouldn’t notice you leaving.

The drive to the hotel was short, but it felt like an eternity. Your hands tightened on the steering wheel, nerves crawling up your spine.

What were you even going to say to him?

When you pulled into the parking lot, you spotted him almost immediately. He was leaning against the hood of his car, dressed in a simple white shirt and jeans, his arms crossed as he stared at the ground.

You parked and took a deep breath before stepping out. The air was cool, the night quiet except for the distant hum of traffic.

Heeseung looked up as you approached, his dark eyes unreadable.

“You actually came,” he murmured.

You swallowed. “Of course I did.”

A heavy silence stretched between you.

Finally, you spoke. “What happens now?”

Heeseung let out a dry laugh, shaking his head. “You tell me.”

You bit your lip, suddenly feeling small under his gaze. “I don’t know,” you admitted. “I just… I needed to see you.”

His eyes softened just a little. “Me too.”

Your chest tightened. “So, do you regret it?”

Heeseung exhaled, running a hand through his hair. “I regret hurting your mom,” he said. “But I don’t regret you.”

Your breath hitched.

Before you could respond, he took a step closer. “Do you regret it?”

You opened your mouth, then closed it. You should say yes. You should walk away.

But you didn’t.

Instead, you whispered, “No.”

Before you could stop yourself, you stepped closer, your hands reaching up as you pressed your lips against his.

Heeseung tensed for a brief second, surprised, but then he melted into the kiss, his hands finding your waist and pulling you in.

The parking lot was silent, the night air cool against your skin, but all you could focus on was the warmth of his lips, the way he kissed you like he’d been waiting for this—like he needed it just as much as you did.

When you finally pulled away, your heart was racing.

Heeseung’s forehead rested against yours, his breathing uneven. “Y/N…”

You swallowed hard, your hands still gripping his shirt. “I don’t know what I’m doing,” you admitted.

Heeseung exhaled sharply, his thumb brushing against your waist. “Me neither.”

And yet, neither of you pulled away.

The silence between you was heavy, charged with something neither of you wanted to name. Heeseung’s hands still lingered on your waist, his fingers barely gripping the fabric of your hoodie.

You should’ve stepped back. You should’ve said this is wrong and walked away.

But you didn’t.

Instead, you stayed there, your forehead still lightly touching his, your breath mingling in the cool night air.

Heeseung was the first to break the silence. “I tried to stay away.” His voice was quiet, almost conflicted. “But I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

Your chest tightened. “Me too.”

Heeseung’s jaw clenched, and for a second, he looked like he was about to say something else—something important—but then he just sighed, stepping back slightly, his hands slipping away from you.

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” he murmured, but even as he said it, his eyes flickered down to your lips again.

You swallowed hard, your fingers twitching at your sides. “Then why does it feel like we can’t stop?”

Heeseung let out a quiet, almost bitter chuckle. “Because we don’t want to.”

Your heart pounded. You wanted to argue, to say that it was just a mistake, that the guilt wasn’t eating away at you. But you couldn’t lie—not to him.

So instead, you whispered, “What now?”

Heeseung studied you for a moment, his gaze dark and unreadable. Then, slowly, he reached for your hand, his fingers grazing against yours.

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “But I don’t think I can let you go.”

You hadn’t planned to stay.

You told yourself you’d just talk, just clear the air—but one thing led to another, and now you were here, tangled in the sheets of Heeseung’s hotel bed, his arm draped lazily over your waist as he slept.

The room was dark except for the faint glow of your phone screen beside you.

5 missed calls.

Mom.

Your stomach twisted. You knew you should’ve answered. Knew you should’ve at least texted back. But what could you even say?

Sorry, I was with your fiancé all night?

You sighed, carefully slipping out from under Heeseung’s arm. His body shifted slightly, but he didn’t wake.

Sitting up, you rubbed your face, the weight of everything crashing down on you.

What the hell were you doing?

You stared at your phone for a long moment, fingers hovering over the screen as you saw your mom’s missed calls pile up. You couldn’t face her right now—not with everything that had happened. You needed space, a moment to figure things out.

You quickly typed a response to her, hoping the lie would buy you some time.

Y/N: Sorry, Mom. I’m staying at Yunjin’s for a while. Her dog just passed away, and she needs me to help with the grieving.

It wasn’t true. It wasn’t even close to true. But it was the best excuse you could come up with, and you hoped she’d believe it.

You sent the message, quickly setting your phone aside, and then carefully slipped out of bed. You were about to head back to your side when you felt Heeseung stir beside you.

His groggy voice broke the silence. “Where are you going?”

You paused, glancing at him over your shoulder. “I… I just wanted to make sure you were okay,” you said, trying to sound casual.

Heeseung blinked a few times, his eyes half-lidded and sleepy, his hair a mess. He shifted slightly, his arm lazily reaching out, wanting to pull you back into bed.

“You don’t need to leave,” he murmured, his voice thick with sleep. “Stay with me.”

You hesitated for a moment, unsure of how to react. You could feel the pull between you, the temptation to stay close to him overwhelming. You didn’t want to leave—not really.

With a sigh, you lowered yourself back down, slipping back under the covers. But as soon as you settled, you heard Heeseung stir again. This time, he sat up slightly, his eyes focused on you, wide awake now.

“What’s going on, Y/N?” he asked, his voice more alert, but still laced with a softness you hadn’t heard before.

You stared at him, unsure of how to explain yourself. Your heart was still racing from the intensity of what had happened earlier. You wanted to talk about it, but at the same time, you didn’t know how.

“I… I just texted my mom,” you mumbled, your voice barely above a whisper. “I told her I’m staying with Yunjin. I told her her dog passed away, and that she needs me for support.”

Heeseung’s gaze softened, but there was a hint of concern in his eyes. He leaned in a little closer, his expression thoughtful. “Are you sure that’s the best way to handle this?”

You swallowed, avoiding his gaze. “I don’t know. I just couldn’t face her right now. Everything’s… too much.”

Heeseung didn’t say anything at first. Instead, he reached out, gently brushing his fingers against your arm, as if trying to offer some comfort without saying the wrong thing.

“I get it,” he finally said, his voice low. “But you don’t have to keep lying. You can talk to me, Y/N.”

You nodded but didn’t respond. The truth felt too complicated, and the last thing you wanted was to drag him into the mess of emotions that were already swirling inside you.

After a long pause, Heeseung leaned back against the headboard, his fingers still lingering on your skin. The silence between you both was thick, and you could feel the tension building again, even though you were both so close.

But for now, you didn’t move. You just stayed there, in the quiet, unsure of what would come next.

Heeseung leaned in closer, his presence warm against you. His hand gently cupped your face, and before you could say anything more, he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead. It was tender, calming, and for a moment, the weight of everything seemed to lift, if only slightly.

The gentle pressure of his lips lingered for a second, and when he pulled back, his eyes met yours, soft and sincere. “You don’t have to go through this alone,” he whispered, his voice soothing, like a quiet promise.

You could feel your heart racing again, the tension between you both still hanging in the air, but his words made it a little easier to breathe. You nodded, though you weren’t entirely sure you believed him.

Heeseung smiled faintly, then leaned back into the pillows, his fingers still lightly brushing your arm as he relaxed again. You didn’t say anything more, just lay there with him, the silence between you both a little more comfortable now, though you could feel your thoughts racing inside your mind.

As Heeseung lay back, his presence still so close to you, a rush of guilt flooded your chest. You couldn’t stop thinking about your mom. She needed you, especially after everything that had happened. She was already hurt, dealing with the betrayal, and you’d gone behind her back. Your heart twisted painfully at the thought of her alone, unaware of the storm brewing in her own home.

What kind of daughter am I? You couldn’t shake the thought. You should be there for her, supporting her, not hiding away in a room with the very person who’d hurt her. But despite the guilt gnawing at you, despite the overwhelming feeling that you were doing something wrong, you couldn’t move. You didn’t want to leave.

Heeseung shifted next to you, his hand brushing against yours, but you barely noticed. All you could focus on was the sharp ache in your chest.

You wanted to be honest with your mom, wanted to explain everything, but the weight of the secret was too much to bear. And part of you knew—if you confessed now, it might tear everything apart. Your mom would be devastated. She was already dealing with so much, and you didn’t know if you could stand to see her hurt even more.

But as the silence dragged on, your thoughts couldn’t help but circle back to her—your mom. She needed you now more than ever, and here you were, stuck in a tangled mess of your own feelings, hiding away with Heeseung like nothing had changed.

You shifted slightly, your gaze turning toward him, but you didn’t speak. You couldn’t. The guilt was too overwhelming.

Heeseung’s eyes flickered over to you, his expression softening when he saw the change in your demeanor. He didn’t say anything, though—he didn’t have to. He could sense the conflict in you, and for once, he seemed content to simply stay in the silence, as if he knew you needed the space to figure things out.

But inside, you knew. You knew you had to face your mom. Eventually.

You couldn’t help it. The guilt was still there, heavy in your chest, but for just a moment, you let yourself forget. You let yourself get lost in the comfort of Heeseung’s presence, the warmth of his body beside you. Slowly, you inched closer, your head resting against his chest, inhaling the scent of him—something warm, comforting, and undeniably familiar. His scent wrapped around you, calming the storm in your mind, and you allowed yourself to relax just a little.

It was like everything outside of this moment faded away—the guilt, the confusion, the complicated mess of emotions. It was just you and him, here, in this space where nothing seemed to matter. His arms instinctively went around you, pulling you closer, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you felt safe, even if it was just for a fleeting moment.

Heeseung’s fingers traced small, gentle patterns on your back as you lay there, snuggled against him. The silence between you both was no longer heavy; it was peaceful, even comforting. It felt like you didn’t need to say anything. It felt like you could just be.

For a while, you both just stayed like that, your thoughts racing in the background, but your body grounded in the warmth of his embrace. You felt the steady rise and fall of his chest, the gentle rhythm of his breathing, and for a moment, it was like time slowed down. It was like you could let everything else go, even if only for a little while.

You wanted to stay like this forever. To not think about what you’d done, about the secrets that weighed on you, about the guilt that gnawed at your insides. But you knew it was only temporary. You knew that eventually, you’d have to face the truth, face your mom, and deal with the consequences of what had happened. You couldn’t hide forever.

But for now, in the quiet of the room, with Heeseung holding you close, you didn’t want to think about any of that. You just wanted to stay here, feeling his warmth against you, feeling the steady comfort of his presence.

You closed your eyes, letting yourself drift for a moment, even if just for a second, to escape the whirlwind of emotions. The world outside of this room didn’t exist. It was just you, and it felt like maybe that was enough for now.

But you couldn’t ignore the nagging feeling in the back of your mind, the one that reminded you that you’d have to confront it all sooner or later. But right now, all you could do was breathe him in, let his arms hold you, and try to ignore the storm that was waiting just outside the door.

It was a fragile peace, but you clung to it anyway.

pt1 - masterlist

263 notes · View notes

synity · 3 days ago

Note

can i request for a mafia/ceo wonwoo fanfic!

BILLIONAIRE

(mafia boss!Jeon Wonwoo x FemReader)

*MafiaAU, slow-burn, intense yet romantic setup, romantic*

They called him The Billionaire Ghost. Jeon Wonwoo, the man who owned half the city yet remained a shadow within it. He didn’t attend galas. He didn’t sign his name. And no one who crossed him ever did it twice.

You hadn’t meant to meet him.

You weren’t supposed to be anywhere near his world.

But when your brother got into debt with the wrong people, and you stormed into their headquarters demanding they not lay a finger on him he was there.

Sitting behind a marble desk in a sleek black suit, sipping wine like a king in his court.

"Brave," he murmured, looking you up and down. "Or stupid."

You didn’t flinch. “He didn’t mean to cross you.”

“I don’t care what he meant.”

Silence.

Then, slowly, he set his glass down.

“But I’ll make you a deal.”

That was the beginning.

You worked for him now not as a maid, not as a secretary, but as his. You ran errands, sat beside him in meetings, traveled with him, and, slowly, became something of a confidante. Others feared him. You saw something different.

How he carried grief in his quiet moments. How he drank coffee only after 10 a.m. How his voice dropped when he was tired. How he looked at you when he thought you weren’t paying attention.

He never touched you. Never crossed a line.

But his eyes whispered things his lips never did.

And it was driving you insane.

One night, the city was silent under the weight of a summer storm. You were in his penthouse, curled on the velvet couch as thunder cracked the sky. He stood near the window, a cigarette between his fingers, staring into the dark like he owned it.

“Why did you let my brother go?” you asked quietly.

He didn’t turn around.

“Because you walked in.”

“And that’s enough reason?”

“It was for me.”

He faced you then dark hair messy, sleeves rolled to his elbows, and something unreadable swimming in his gaze.

“I don’t care about debt,” he said. “I care about loyalty.”

“And do you think I’m loyal?”

“You haven’t run yet.”

A beat.

Then two.

You rose from the couch, walked over, and stood beside him, shoulder to shoulder.

“I’m not afraid of you,” you said.

“I know.”

Another beat.

“I’m afraid of how I feel around you.”

His voice was so quiet you almost missed it.

Your heart tripped.

But before you could reply, a knock shattered the moment.

Wonwoo’s face hardened. Business again.

Days passed.

Things changed.

He kept you close, closer than ever. Every night he returned home to you. You shared space, laughter, even silence. But something kept pulling him back. A line he wouldn’t cross. You felt it when your hands brushed, when he leaned in too close only to pull away.

Until one night

Gunshots.

He came home bloodied, hands trembling, barely able to stand. You screamed his name, catching him as he stumbled.

“Wonwoo!”

“I’m okay,” he whispered. “Just a scratch—”

“Lie down, now!”

You stitched him up with trembling fingers, tears falling silently down your cheeks. He watched you.

“I’m not letting you die on me,” you snapped.

“I won’t,” he said. “Not until I tell you.”

You paused.

Tell you what?

His hand gripped yours.

“I’m in love with you.”

The world stopped.

“I’ve been in love with you since the day you walked into my hell and made it feel like home.”

You didn’t speak. Couldn’t.

So you kissed him instead.

And he kissed you like he was starving.

Since that night, everything changed.

He still ran the empire. Still made enemies disappear. But now he had you.

He bought you your favorite pastries every morning.

Told you you were the only person who could look into his soul and not flinch.

Built you an art room in the penthouse because he saw you sketching once.

And whenever he had to leave, he’d whisper, “You’re the reason I come back.”

But the world didn’t like seeing him happy.

One night, a hitman sent a message your name written in red across his car windshield.

Wonwoo was gone in an instant, hunting the traitor, setting fire to everything in his path.

When he returned, blood on his hands and a storm in his chest, you waited by the door.

You didn’t ask what happened.

You just hugged him like he wasn’t a monster, but a man.

And he broke in your arms.

“I thought I lost you,” he whispered.

“You never will.”

He proposed in the least dramatic way possible.

A quiet dinner.

Your favorite dish.

A single black velvet box.

“I could buy the world,” he said, “but I only want one thing.”

You opened the box simple, elegant, perfect.

“Yes,” you breathed.

And he smiled, finally, like he had everything.

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austinbutlerslovers · 2 months ago

Text

Good Girl Gone Bad

Label Mature 18+

Summary Away from home settling in a new country to start college, you find solace in a handsome stranger. The connection is instant, a bond forming faster than you ever imagined, but just when everything feels safe he pulls you into a situation far more complicated than it first seemed, and suddenly, nothing about your new life is simple anymore.

Based on the intro to the film Grease. A new girl moves to America from Sydney to start school. She meets a biker boy over summer and they fall for each other, only for her to feel confused when he pretends it didn’t happen.

❤️‍🔥Passionate Smut❤️‍🔥 New girl in a new town • innocent • naive • shy• soft spoken• lacking boundaries • trusting • forming a crush • lured • coercion •dub con• oral on fem • fingering • size kink • overstimulation • P in V •used for gratification • multiple orgasms • protection • after care

🔗 Masterlist

📖 Proof reader @aust-een 🎉 Thank you for voting! That was so fast!

Good Girl Gone Bad

The Los Angeles sun blazes over Venice Beach, casting golden light across the sand. You spread your towel near the water’s edge, where the waves crash in a steady rhythm, drowning out the chatter of locals and the hum of skateboard wheels on the boardwalk.

You’re a long way from Sydney Australia on your first trip to America, where you’ll be staying all summer in a pastel-yellow vacation rental before you begin college in California for fall.

Your navy bikini feels daring to wear out as shy and soft-spoken as you are, but the sun demands it. You lie on your back, flipping through a worn copy of The Age of Innocence, your hair fanning out over the towel, skin tingling as the heat seeps in.

After reading a chapter you roll on your stomach to tan evenly, your hair spilling over one shoulder as you flip another page. The curve of your back arches gently, feeling the sheen of your skin kissed by the sun, as you settle.

You don’t even notice him at first, the tall biker returning to his black Harley parked near the bike path.

As you glance up at him, his leather jacket is slung over one shoulder, a white t-shirt clinging to his frame. His sunglasses shield his eyes, but you can still feel his gaze, steady and casual, like you’re the only thing worth watching on the beach.

You brush it off, so far Venice Beach teems with characters, and he’s probably just people-watching.

You tuck a strand of hair behind your ear and dive back into your book feeling your body warm from the last strong rays of sun, and as the light softens to a peachy glow across the sand, you decide to pack up.

Standing up you pull on your sundress, and collect your towel, tucking it folded under your arm. As you walk from the sand to the palm-lined bike path, you dig in your bag grabbing your phone for an Uber before you hear someone approaching you.

“Hey, hold up.” The voice is low, smooth, with a drawl that doesn’t quite fit LA.

You turn, and there he stands, the biker. Up close, he towers over you, lean and solid, his sandy brown hair tousled from the wind. Without his sunglasses, his eyes are piercing and vividly blue, like the Pacific Ocean as they lock on yours.

Your breath catches as you recognize his face. He’s Austin Butler, the actor. You’ve seen him on screen, but in person, he’s sharper, more real, a faint smirk tugging at his lips.

“Didn’t mean to interrupt you,” he says, placing his hands in his pockets, head tilting slightly. “Just figured I’d say hi before you disappeared.”

You clutch your towel tighter, caught in his stunning blue eyes that seem to see right through you, your breath hitching as a flush creeps up your neck.

“Oh, um… hi,” you manage, your voice barely functioning as your gaze traces his striking features, and the way his smirk softens as he looks at you makes your knees weak.

He speaks smoothly, his tone warm and reassuring. “You’re not from around here, are you?”

You shake your head smiling as you force yourself to meet his eyes. “No, I’m not I’m from Sydney, Australia.”

His grin shifts into something genuine as his eyes light up with recognition. “No way, I lived there a few years back, Bondi Beach, the coffee shops on Oxford Street, the way the harbor sparkles at night… some of the most transformative years of my life.” He admits casually, his gaze drifting slowly over you as his voice drops just a little. “You’ve got that Sydney glow, you know. Hard to miss.”

Your grin deepens your face warming with a blush as you glance down, fidgeting with the towel in your hands. “Thank you…,” you say bashfully, your voice barely above the hush of the waves behind you.

“I’m Austin, by the way.” He says extending a hand, and as you take it in yours, his grip is warm and firm as you introduce yourself.

“How about I show you around. You can’t leave Cali without knowing the good spots.” He offers.

You blink up at him, surprised by his kindness. “I… I don’t know. I was just calling an Uber to head back—”

“Come with me.” He smiles, equal parts charm and mischief. “I’ll treat you to something American.”

A laugh escapes you, surprising yourself, and his smirk widens. “Okay,” you say, barely believing it. “But just for a little while.”

He gestures you to his Harley, and once there, he opens the seat, handing you a helmet. He slips his on at the same time as you, tilting his head with a grin. “First time on a bike?” he asks, his voice low and teasing.

“Yeah,” you admit with a shy nod, fumbling with the strap. He steps closer, adjusting it so the helmet fits just right, his fingers brushing your chin as he chuckles softly. “You’ll love it,” he says confidently.

You climb on behind him as you hesitate, your hands hovering before lightly settling around his waist.

“Hold on tight,” he says, tilting his head to glance back at you through his helmet visor, and as you press against him, fully wrapping your arms around his waist, you bite back a smile holding him close.

The bike roars to life, and you peel away from the lot, the wind whipping through your hair as Venice blurs past, neon signs flickering to life, palm trees swaying, andthe endless stretch of ocean glinting in the dusk.

Instead of heading into town, he takes you down the coastal highway before slowing in a hillside residential area. He stops in front of a large sleek two-story beach house with glass walls and a wraparound deck.

Your stomach twists with nerves as you both remove your helmets, having just met him and now heading into a house together, but as he pulls his key from the bike’s ignition, he flashes you a warm disarming smile, you find yourself following him in without hesitation.

Inside, the place smells of fresh cedar and leather, all modern lines and open space. A vintage acoustic guitar leans against one wall, a stack of scripts sits on the living room table.

He leads you to the kitchen, all stainless steel, with wide windows, showcasing an ocean view stretching out like a painting.

“You hungry?” he asks, glancing over with a half-smile. “Yeah,” you say, your voice soft. “Come help me cook,” he says, and you smile, nerves easing a little.

“You’ll be my assistant,” he says, handing you a knife with a playful wink. “Let’s make you an American classic.”

You watch as he pulls ingredients from the fridge, ground beef, buns lettuce and tomatoes. He moves with easy confidence, his blue eyes flicking to yours as he speaks. “So what brings a Sydney girl to Venice?” He says as he rolls you a tomato.

You begin slicing into it as he heats a skillet. “I’ve never been to America before, just wanted to get a feel for it before starting college in the fall.” you admit.

“Smart move,” he says, watching you with a steady gaze. “What are you majoring in?”

You pause, knife hovering over the cutting board. “Well..I’ll be majoring in theater because..I want to be an actress.”

His eyebrows lift, a slow smile spreading across his face. “An actress?“ he says with enthusiasm. “That’s my entire world.”

He flips the burger patty, the sizzle filling the air. “You’ve got the look, those beautiful , honest eyes. Casting directors are gonna eat that up.”

Your cheeks flush, as you try to focus on cutting the tomato evenly, “You’re just saying that.”

“I mean it,” he says, his voice softer. “You’ve got something real, I can feel it.”

Your gaze keeps drifting over to him as he works. His handsome face, his sharp jawline, his tousled sandy brown hair framing his features just right.

He’s captivating and as you watch the way he moves with ease and confidence to match, you get it, you understand why he’s famous. There’s a magnetism to him that’s mesmerizing, like every motion is a scene he’s mastered

You work together, assembling the buns with juicy patties, stacking them with ripe tomatoes and crisp lettuce, then you sit at the dining room table together, eating the burgers, messy, delicious, and perfect.

The sun sinks below the horizon, leaving a trail of purple and gold as he leans back in his chair, his blue eyes glinting in the twilight as he studies you. “So, as an actress? What kind of roles would you be pursuing?”

You take a sip of water, gathering your courage. “I want to play someone… brave. Someone who changes things. I’ve always been quiet, you know? Shy. Acting feels like a way to be more.”

He nods, his expression softening, a flicker of something deeper in his eyes. “You’re braver than you think coming out here solo.”

You smile, small but genuine. “Maybe you’re right. It is getting late, I should definitely be back in my Airbnb by now.” you admit.

He stands up, a spark in his grin, “Let me show you one more thing,” he says extending his hand, and you take it without hesitation.

You let him lead you up the stairs to the second floor, then the third, where he pushes open a door to a reveal a rooftop deck.

It’s immaculate with a plush daybed, a fire pit, a basket of blankets, a barbecue, a bar, a mini fridge. “Wow,” you breathe, seeing the panoramic view stretching from the coast to the city.

You place your hands on the railing, letting the wind kiss your skin as you stare out at the vibrant glow of the sunset. “It’s so pretty,” you say smiling, and he joins you, resting his forearms on the railing as he watches you take it in.

“If you’re really serious about becoming an actress, I can get you to the right people,” he says, his voice low and steady, cutting through the salty breeze.

Then it hits you, he’s Austin Butler. He knows all the higher ups in Hollywood, and your entire life could change just from this moment, like a direct line to your future clicking into place.

You pull off the railing, meeting his gaze, the weight of his offer heavy in your eyes. “I’d like that very much,” you say, your breath quickening.

He rises, stepping closer, his smile warm as he faces you, his blue eyes filled with admiration. He looks over your features, tracing the curve of your jaw, the flush in your cheeks, the way your hair catches the last light.

“Hollywood’s a different town,” he says, his voice low and infectious. “It doesn’t always work out for most people, it’s really not what you know, it’s who you know.” He admits, and as the moment lingers, your smile mirrors his own as the sunset fades to a soft purple haze, and then he leans in and kisses you.

Your breath catches, lips parting in shock as his mouth moves over yours, steady and warm, his hands sliding up your arms, drawing you in effortlessly before you even think of pulling back.

His hands glide smoothly down your back, thumbs tracing up your hips, until your thoughts dissolve into a haze.

He kisses you in a rhythm until your lost in it, his tongue slipping past your lips, smooth and sure, tracing against yours with a slow, teasing stroke that makes your stomach flip.

Your hands grip his waist, fingers digging in as your pulse hammers, a dizzy rush flooding your senses until you’re unsteady in his hold completely overtaken by him.

You never expected this, you don’t even know what this is, and as he pulls back, his forehead resting against yours, breaths mingling heavily, you’re overwhelmed with a rush of arousal you’ve never felt before, wanting immediately to give in, yet desperately needing to hold back.

He guides you down onto the large daybed with ease, your chest rising and falling quickly as he lowers himself, kissing down your body, your words catching in your throat as he tugs your bikini down your hips, your eyes widening in disbelief.

You should stop him, you should do something, but as he spreads your legs and his mouth settles on you, it’s already too late.

You pant heavily as he works his mouth and tongue on you, torn between wanting him to stop and surrendering to him completely.

Your heartbeat thunders, thoughts spiraling, you’ve made yourself so easy, what does he think of you now? But as you glance down at him, his eyes are closed in bliss, lashes fluttering against his cheeks, his beautiful mouth moving over you with care. He’s focused entirely on savoring you, and your body softens, the tension melting as you relax into his skill.

Your head falls back as his tongue flicks just right, and your hips twitch as he splays his palm gently on your stomach, calming you as you give in.

Sparks explode behind your eyes, small whimpers escaping your lips as arousal floods through you, and the pleasure rises higher and faster until your legs press against his head. His hands caress up your hips and down your thighs steadying you as you shudder, moaning in the air, hips rocking against his mouth as you start to come.

Pleasure and heat surge together as your core clenches tight and then snaps with a euphoric release, and you cry out feeling a rush of relief wash over you, leaving you in peaceful bliss.

As the intensity fades your core throbs as you try to catch your breath and regain your senses.

Austin sits up, pulling his white shirt over his head, abs catching the light as he unbuttons his jeans. You know you should say something, you know you should get up, but as you try he easily settles over you, laying you back down.

Concern flickers in your eyes in a silent surrender as his thumb strokes your jaw. “What’s the matter?” he whispers, searching your face with a gentle smile.

“I…I…don’t know,” you pant, your words scattered and incoherent as his hand trails down your side and carefully pushes between your thighs.

His fingers press against your soaked clit, drawing a loud sound from you, and his mouth finds yours again, your eyes squeezing shut tight as he pushes two fingers inside you.

He pulls back from the kiss, watching as you gasp softly, brows knitting as his fingers reach a depth that’s aching to be touched and you fall into his rhythm sinking deeper as he thrusts faster.

Tears well in your eyes as the knot in your stomach tightens and you’re not sure if it’s from the pleasure or the intensity of what he’s doing, but you don’t stop him.

Your mind hazes as his lips return to yours, his open-mouthed kisses pulling you deeper, his fingers thrusting inside coaxing small sounds from you as you near release again, and you squeeze your eyes shut tighter as he makes you come.

He kisses your neck softly as you moan beneath him, completely spent as he slowly removes his fingers from you.

He shifts his weight, bracing one hand at your side as he lowers his jeans down his legs, and your eyes snap open, watching as his heavy cock slides free, thick and intimidating.

He reaches into the pocket of his jeans, pulling out a condom before kicking them off.

You swallow hard as he brings the packet between his teeth, tearing it open, then sliding the condom all the way on his large rigid cock.

Uneasiness sinks in as he settles back on top of you, his gaze meeting your wide-eyed, vulnerable look as his thumb brushes your cheek. “What’s the matter,” he asks softly, his heat pressing against you.

Your uncertainty swirls. “I don’t know,” you whisper, sharp and hushed as his fingers trace your hairline with adoration, his blue eyes steadily taking you in. “I want you,” he says with certainty, his expression softening. “The moment I saw you, I knew.”

You want him too, but everything is happening too sudden, too fast.

“I want to make your dreams come true,” he says, searching your eyes. “You want that, don’t you?” He asks gently, and your resistance slips as you whisper, “Yes,” your breath shaky.

He pulls you closer, kissing down your jaw. “Good,” he murmurs, nudging your legs apart, his cock pressing at your entrance. “Let me make your dreams come true,” he says as he kisses up your neck, and your eyes flutter shut as you surrender.

He pushes in, and your body locks tight, the pressure of his cock filling you as your walls tense around him. You squeal, feet pushing against the cushions, hands gripping the fabric as he kisses down your neck murmuring, “You’re so good,” waiting as you adjust before easing deeper until he’s fully inside.

Your hands tremble as they finally slide up his back, his broad shoulders flexing with each thrust and he pulls back, his eyes locking with yours as his heavy cock glides against your slick walls.

You moan in pleasure, everything about him is perfect, your thighs are soaked, the wet smacking of his thrusts hypnotic as you look into his eyes in disbelief at how good he feels.

Soft, breathy sounds escape your lips as each move jolts you, his sharp sounds of pleasure matching the spasms of your walls on his cock as your moans spill freely, addicted to the feeling.

His slick cock thrusts deep, hitting a spot that draws a loud, almost pained moan from you, as the pleasure becomes overwhelming.

You plead incoherently as your hands slide up to clutch the back of his neck, foreheads pressed together as you look between your bodies.

You watch his cock plunge in deep with every hard thrust and your eyes squeeze shut, feeling the tightness build in your core until it snaps and desperate gasps and moans spill from you as you come.

He grunts, the sound harsher as his need takes over, and he picks up the pace, rocking into you with relentless force.

His hips clap between yours, thrusting deep with his thick unyielding cock stretching you wide. You lose your mind, sobbing and clawing down his back, nails digging into his skin as he moves against you, each thrust sending a shuddering jolt through your core.

His body locks as he comes, his breathy sounds fueling you as his cock twitches inside, a deep “Mmmmm” vibrating from his chest as he tilts his head back, spilling into the condom. He lazily thrusts a few more times before a shiver runs down his back and he slowly pulls out.

You lay panting and dazed, as he lifts off of you and carefully removes the condom. He ties it tight before tossing it into a small bin, then he grabs a warm blanket from the basket, draping it over you both, before pressing a small remote.

The fire pit roars to life in front of you, its glow bright against the evening sky and as he rests against the throw cushions, he pulls you up to lay on his chest.

The warmth of his body, the blanket, and the fire wrap around you as your thoughts drift away, your mind getting lost in the dance of the blue flames in a trance.

He tilts your chin up to make you look into his eyes. “You okay?” he asks.

“Yeah,” you say weakly, still reeling from the intensity of it all.

“You can’t tell anyone about this,” he says, his tone serious, searching your eyes as a pang of guilt and confusion hits you.

“Okay,” you whisper, wondering what this even means to him.

The complications begin to swirl in your mind about your future, your college, and especially him. You begin to wonder if the carefree and kind Austin you met at the beach was genuine or if this was all just a lure to get you here to sleep with him.

You whimper, trying to get up but he stops you. “What’s wrong?” he asks.

Unable to meet his eyes you exhale shakily. “I should go,” the shame of your actions eating you alive.

“You’re staying” he smiles, pulling you back against him and he kisses you soft and slow, surrendering you into the unknown, changing your life forever.

END 🏍️

🔗 Masterlist

🏷️ Always Tag Me List @purejasmine @burnthheparaphilia @butdaddyilovehim99 @austinbutlerfly @mrs-hardy-hunnam-butler-pascal @lindszeppelin @abswifey @aust-een @umika @feralgodmothers @megangovier @magicovento @obsessedvibee @austiebuttbutt @faegoddessog @dunevitani @unicoo @thejoywillburnoutthepain @jessica987 @slowsweetlove @hardcoredisneynerd @finley-08 @thegabbyh @thefallofthedamned @buckysteveloki-me @bucking-mustangs-with-wings @shegatsby @darlingisntit @lovereadingfanfic @denised916 @shockercoco @minispice-1 @i5uckersblog @ughdontbeboring @meetmeatyourworst @avidreader73 @xxmandaveexx @mamawiggers1980 @12joeywheelerfangirl @imjustheretoreadsmuthaha @gravesdiggergirl @nostalgichoya @stars-remain2 @skulliecadaver-blog @jjubilee-fluff

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ldydeath · 2 months ago

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New Beginnings | Kang Daesung

Summary: Daesung is prepping for his new album and tour when you find out you’re pregnant. Word Count: 1.3k Warnings: Unplanned pregnancy, but that’s it. Author’s Note: This was a request that I’m going to turn into a two part (maybe more) series. This is pure fluff, because Daesung deserves happiness always, my sweet boy.

Ever since Daesung had announced his album and tour things had been hectic to say the least. He was still filming episodes of Zip Daesung as well as fighting in photoshoots, rehearsals, and press interviews. You two had barely had time to see each other as you were running out the door to your respective jobs. You were the main choreographer for all the guys so you knew at some point your schedules would align again soon. You however hadn’t been expecting everything to come to a crashing halt right after Jiyong’s concerts.

“Are you sure you’re ok? I hate leaving you when you’re sick.” You waved you hand from the bed as Daesung stood in the doorway.

“I’ll be fine. I just need some ginger tea and sleep. Go to work.” Daesung sighed and blew you a kiss before heading out the door.

You’d been sick for what felt like weeks at this point. Everytime you thought you were getting better you’d be hit by another wave of nausea. You’d had your suspicions that maybe you weren’t sick, maybe it was something else, but you needed to be sure. Daesung’s wish had always been to be a father by thirty five and with that age quickly coming to an end you didn’t want to get his hopes up if you weren’t pregnant.

Once you were sure he was gone, you made your way to the bathroom. The pregnancy test had a three minute wait time which felt cruel when you’d already been waiting so long, but with a sigh you sat the stick on the counter and set a timer while you did your skincare routine. You hoped having something to do while you waited would take your mind off of the possibility that you were pregnant, but your eyes kept wandering over to the test.

Your heart skipped when the timer on your phone went off and you sat down the lotion bottle in your hand, exchanging it for the test. You let out a small sob when you read the words: PREGNANT. It was finally happening. You needed to tell Daesung, and you needed to tell him right now. You rushed back to the bedroom, test still in hand and dug through the closet for an outfit. Anything would do, he would just be at the studio practicing anyway. Throwing the test into your bag, you headed off to the studio.

“Aein?” His eyes widened when he saw you walk into the studio, holding up a hand to stop the music. “Are you okay?” He walked over to you, his hands on your face in an instant inspecting you for damage.

“No, Dae I’m fine. I just…I have news that couldn’t wait.” You smiled at him before tearing your gaze away from him and digging around in your purse. Daesung’s face crinkled in confusion as you handed the test to him.

“You’re pregnant!” You nodded and he picked you up, spinning you around.

“Put me down!” You laughed.

As he placed you on the ground you heard clapping around you, suddenly remembering you weren’t alone. You glanced over Daesung’s shoulder looking at all the backup dancers who had become your family over the years, and you spotted two surprising faces making their way to you. Jiyong and Youngbae.

“Congratulations you two!” Youngbae slapped Daesung on the back as Jiyong pulled you into a hug.

“Thank you!” You pulled back from Jiyong eyeing the men suspiciously. “What are you doing here?”

“Just hanging out.” Jiyong shrugged, a hint of mischief in his eyes.

“You’re planning something?” You looked between all three of them, your hands falling to your hips. “For his show?”

“Maybe.”

“Aye. I’m the main choreographer, I have a right to know.”

“Come on, let’s get you home.” Daesung sent a pointed look to the guys before ushering you out the door, the guys following behind.

“You do not need to cancel your day for me, Dae. I’m fine.” He shrugged at you as he led you to the passenger side of the car you’d driven in.

“I didn’t want to be here today anyway.” He shrugged as he slid into the driver's seat. “You’ll have to give me a ride tomorrow.” He smiled at you as he sped off in the direction of the house.

Daesung spent the rest of the afternoon taking care of your every need, making lunch, bringing you so much tea you thought you might float away, but you weren’t complaining. The permanent grin on his face was everything to you. After he’d cleaned the kitchen for what felt like the tenth time, he slid into bed next to you.

“I can’t believe we’re having a baby.” He whispered as he brought his face to yours, planting a soft kiss on your lips. You grinned back at him.

“We’re going to be a real family now, I’m so excited.”

“There’s only one thing…”his voice trailed off as he got out of bed.

“What?” He didn’t answer you, instead he moved to your side of the bed and picked you up. “Dar what are you doing?” You laughed.

He didn’t respond as he carried you through the apartment. Shifting you in his arms as he slid the patio door open and setting you down safely on the ground of the balcony. You raised a brow at him as he turned your body, positioning you so that you had your back to the beautiful city view you loved so much. Daesung dropped to his knee, pulling a box out of his pocket and your breath caught in your throat.

You two had been together for so long that sometimes you forgot you weren’t married, it just kind of felt like you were. Daesung had been carrying the ring around for weeks, waiting for the perfect opportunity to propose. He’d been considering going the cheesy route, and proposing to you on stage but this felt more right. More you. He’d wanted to marry you the day he met you, but life had gotten in the way and no time had perfect enough to ask you. You were pregnant now though, and what was more perfect than this?

“Dae what are you doing?” You whispered as he propped open the box.

“Marry me?”

It wasn’t some elaborate speech about how much he loved you, you already knew all of that. It was simple, it was the hardest question he’d ever ask you, but it was so very you, so perfect. Your head was nodding before words could come out.

“Yes, in a million lifetimes, yes.”

He barely got the ring on your finger before he was pulling you in for a hug. His lips on yours as he kissed you with so much love. You clung to him, kissing him back, never wanting this moment or this day to end. He pulled back, your foreheads resting on each other as you locked eyes, matching grins on your faces.

“I love you more than I can put into words.”

“I love you too.” You pecked his lips again, his hands moving to rest on your stomach.

“There’s a baby in there.” He laughed, tears flooding his eyes. How had he gotten so lucky?

“There is.” Your hand rested on top of his. “I’m so excited I get to do this with you.”

“Me too, baby. Me too.” He kissed you one more time before leading you back into the apartment.

Everything was finally falling into place. He was going on tour, his band had finally reunited, you were pregnant and had agreed to marry him. Daesung’s heart could burst from all the joy he felt in this moment. He could not wait to spend the rest of his life with you and your future baby. He truly was the luckiest man on the planet.

tag list: @wcnderlnds @infinetlyforgotten @loveesiren @gdinthehouseee @tulentiy @petersasteria @alosss-blog @sooyasya @dprvivi @mirahyun @breakmeoff @1950schick @sherrayyyyy

#daesung x reader #kang daesung x reader #bigbang x reader #daesung #kang daesung #my fics #nbs

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nicksolemnlyswears · 4 months ago

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FORGED UNDER FIRE

PARAPET

blurb: some might say parapet is the beginning of a riders life. it certainly was for you. the beginning of your new life. the beginning of your friendship. the beginning of everything surrounding him.

pairing: brennan sorrengail x rider! reader

word count: 1.1k

a/n: hey guys! so this is sort of a continuation of FORGED UNDER FIRE. this will be a little series where i'll go back and forth on brennan and reader's love story. for this one i wanted to go way back to the beginning.

i finished onyx storm last week and felt really motivated to keep writing for brennan. don't worry there won't be any spoilers for onyx storm as of now. if there is later on i'll add it somewhere in here.

i hope you enjoy! let me know if there a moment in their story you'd like me to write about or if you want me to just get on with reader finding out he's alive! thank you for reading!

It's strange to watch families coming together from all the corners of the Continent. They gather to say farewell to their children while they embark on their journey at Basgiath's War College. Mothers hug their sons, fathers hold their daughter's hands tightly, afraid they'll suddenly vanish, and siblings pretend everything will be okay while they're gone.

The interactions are foreign to you, a result of your parent's abandoning you at a young age. They were too young for a child, too immature, and not prepared in the slightest. They saw their progeny as a hindrance, so they dropped you off at an old relative's house and forgot about you as if you were a mere pet.

Perhaps if you had a family, the rider's quadrant wouldn't have been your choice, but being all alone and dirt poor gives you the freedom to put your life at risk without consequence. The rider's quadrant is the perfect place to make a name for yourself. That is all you desire. You're doing this for yourself, no one else. If you die in the process, then it will make no difference in the world. No one will notice. No one will miss you.

When the clock chimes and the gates open, you turn your back to the strange sight and walk towards the entrance where the rider's quadrant is welcoming candidates. There's only a handful of candidates in front of you, giving their names to the cadets stationed at the entrance to the tall tower. Some hide their fear better than others.

Gripping the straps of your backpack, which holds your few possessions, tightly, you tell the short-haired woman your name and start climbing the stairs. Your body has a mind of its own as it ignores the fluttering of your stomach when you look down the spiraling staircase. It keeps pushing forward, leading you to the top, where about five more cadets wait for this year's candidates. The patches on their arms identify what year they belong to.

The first candidate has begun to cross the parapet; confidently, he spreads his arms to keep his balance and strides forward, quickly and efficiently. The sight of the infamous parapet leaves your mouth dry and your heart fluttering. It's much more daunting to be in its presence than to hear about it through others.

The rain that fell from the sky yesterday has vanished under the intense heat from the sun. It's an advantage you're grateful for as you mutter a quick prayer to Zihnal. The gods have led you to this point and will continue to help you survive.

The parapet is just that, the parapet. It has not changed since established, and while built to be a challenge, it is not impossible to cross. Thousands of riders have done it, and you will, too. The challenge lies inside of you. You must not let your fear take over, or it will all be over in an instant.

A soft yet masculine laugh behind you takes you out of your trance, yet you remain focused forward. It's the only way to go. This is your future. You have to make it and prove everyone wrong.

"What's your name, candidate?" Another cadet questions once more, barely sparing you a glance as he scribbles down your name. He steps aside and gestures towards the opening leading to the parapet. "Ready or not, it's your turn. Good luck."

You close your eyes and take a deep breath. Opening them, you begin your journey; the first couple of feet are easy, being caged in by the walls of the turret. When your body leaves the protective walls, the wind quickly envelops you. No matter the weather, the wind will always be an enemy this high up. There are no buildings shielding the parapet from the ruthless currents.

Your eyes solely focus on the end as your feet carry you further down the stone pathway. Each step is calculated as you lift your foot and ground it until reaching a steady spot. Your body is taught to resist the wind, and while you have blocked off any fear, your hands shake involuntarily.

"Just breathe," you mutter, looking forward and pretending you're in a passing town, walking along the roof of the low buildings you used to train for this moment. You fell numerous times, but each fall was a lesson, and you will not fall again.

Step after step, you near your goal. At times, spreading your arms when a harsh gust of wind threatens to push you over the edge. You're two-thirds of the way to the end when you take a step, and the mortar under your foot crumbles and loosens a stone. Your ankle tips at the disturbance, and you lower your body to kneel on the parapet to prevent from falling. First, you see your hands holding tightly, and then your eyes focus on the river flowing 200 feet under you.

You let out a whimper, and your steady heart begins to beat erratically. The world around you distorts as it takes into account the height you're currently at. Your hands aren't the only part of you shaking anymore, and what little breakfast you had threatens to come up.

"Shit," your voice trembles when your body refuses to respond. "Get up!"

Standing takes you long enough that the person behind you catches up to you. The problem is that your focus has been tampered and the world remains tilted as you try to step forward.

"Hey, you're okay. Keep looking forward. You're doing great so far," a gentle voice says behind you. The initiate is six feet away, giving you your space to continue.

"I can't move," your teeth chatter. You hope the wind dampens the fear laced in your voice. You refuse to be seen as weak this early on.

"Yes, you can. You were just moving minutes ago. Keep your arms out and put one foot in front of the other, looking forward." He's closer now, and maybe it's your imagination, but the wind stills for long enough that you take tentative steps. You breathe out in relief when your ankle holds your weight and is not in pain.

Regaining your confidence, you quicken your steps, your bag softly bouncing on your back. The sun beams down on you, causing your forehead to accumulate with sweat, and you're glad your jacket is stuffed in your bag.

The initiate behind you follows you quietly. For each step you take, he takes one as well; he doesn't rush you or speak anymore.

"Almost there," you tell yourself, steadying yourself. Don't rush, rushing leads to mistakes.

Surrounded once more by stone, you run the last ten feet, your knees buckling when you officially make it off the parapet. A cadet holds your elbow, keeping you up as they ask your name one last time. "Congratulations, Cadet!"

The title makes you smile widely as you suck up the tears gathering in the corners of your eyes. Fuck, you made it past parapet, potentially the most deadly task of becoming a rider. One step closer to your goal.

The candidate behind you makes it to solid ground, and the Cadets around you opt to give him their attention with one last word to make your way to the courtyard. They clearly know him because they pat his back and talk with a sense of familiarity you're not accustomed to.

"Hey, wait up!" The same voice calls when you walk away. You would continue walking, but thanks to him, you managed to get your shit together, so you stop and turn, staring at him with curiosity.

He flashes you a bright smile when you stop, catching up to you and extending his hand, "I'm Brennan."

You take him in properly for the first time. His hair looks reddish under the bright sun, and it curls as it falls over his forehead, framing the most amazing amber-colored eyes. He has fair skin, and if you focus enough, you can see freckles scattered across his face. He's also much taller than you, with well-built muscles hidden under his clothes. He definitely has rider parents. It explains the confidence and ease he carries with him.

You take his hand, shaking it firmly as you tell him your name. "I guess I should thank you for helping me back there," you say, albeit reluctantly.

"You were impressive out there. I wanted to see you finish it," He says with a shrug. Brennan was impressed by your performance on the parapet. You were quick, never allowing the wind to stop you for more than a couple of seconds. That was until the stone on the parapet loosened and tripped you. "Besides, watching someone plummet 200 feet into the river would be very distracting."

Your lips betray you as they curl up at the ends into a smile, and Brennan takes it as a victory. Previous to him talking to you, there was barely a trace of emotion on your face. He'd been watching closely. "Fair enough, I wouldn't want my screams to distract you."

He'd say you were distracting him from the moment he saw you. "I figure we'll all be screaming on Threshing when we bond with a dragon. Can't promise I won't scream then," he jokes, wanting to see you smile again.

Before you can respond, a group calls after him, waving enthusiastically. "Brennan!" They keep calling, hollering, and whistling.

"Your friends are calling you," you say, pointing behind him.

"Guess they are," he nods, giving her a tight-lipped smile. He wants to stay and talk to you some more. "I'll see you around?"

"Maybe."

The universe works in funny ways as hours later, you are placed in the same wing, same section, and same squad as him. He waves at you when you approach the small group, giving you a grin. For the next year, Brennan will be everywhere, and you might open up enough to make a friend out of him, maybe even more.

Not that you'd let yourself have him that easily.

thank you for reading! i know it's short and there wasn't much of them interacting but i wanted to give reader a little back story!

so i kinda tagged everyone who commented, but please let me know if you'd like to be removed or if you'd like to be added for future parts ❤️ tags: @berry-marys @cherubinn7 @ladynyx91 @kylaisra @detectivehailey @liahaslosthermind @thebreadisthetruevillian @bbkissme99 @honethatty12 @sunny1616

#fanfiction #fanfic #fourth wing x reader #fourth wing fanfiction #fourth wing fanfic #fourth wing #iron flame #onyx storm #violet sorrengail #brennan sorrengail x reader #brennan sorrengail #nicksolemnlyswears #xaden riorson

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darkwaveho · 10 months ago

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Damage Control: In the night

Summary: You’re not estranged when it comes to your girlfriend breaking in and entering your room unannounced but the reason behind it is what constantly eats away at you but tonight you no longer keep quiet about it. (Basically an injured Natasha using your room as a safe house.)

Pairings:Mob!Natasha x reader

Warnings: brief mention of abuse, hurt-comfort, small mention of blood, fluff? Brief smut.

Series Main masterlist

You lay there without fear or concern seeing as you’re already aware of who that could be entering your window. Small noises are heard, and the bed barely shifts after a few moments you will yourself to open your eyes with intentions to turn fully towards the cold body in your bed. Strong arms stop you in your tracks holding you in place. “Go back to sleep.”

The sound of her voice is so much richer within the nighttime it almost distracts you from what you know to be the truth. You needed to look at her, you needed to see her face before you even gave yourself the opportunity to even think about sleep anymore. Of course, Natasha isn’t going to budge, and she knows you aren’t either, that’s exactly why her grip around you grows stronger as you continue to fight against her. You huff with annoyance before finally saying something to her.

“Let me see you.” It’s silent for a moment, a moment too long in your opinion that lets you know what type of late-night visit this is. “It’s fine, I’m fine, now just go back to sleep. I didn't mean to wake you up.” She dismisses any concern that you have as always. “What was the reason this time?” You don’t fight against her anymore, you simply just lay there as she’s pressed against your back. Maybe she’d talk about it in detail this time.

“Same as always.” Her response shouldn’t be a response she’s accustomed to but that was the reality of her life and burden of being placed in a situation where she’s responsible for everything and nothing other than perfection is accepted and even then, sometimes it wasn’t enough to save her from a fist and bruises littered across her body. You managed to turn around while her guard was down to finally assess the damage. You stare at her shadowy figure holding back your emotions. If you got too sentimental it would become too much for Natasha and in an instant, she’d be gone, you know because it’s happened before. She sports a black eye, a bruised lip and a few bruises on her shoulders. Her tank top still has dried blood on it. You don’t know if all of it is hers or not and you’re not going to ask. You quickly shift your thoughts on anything else sensing her fight or flight reaction beginning to start. You look away from her quickly as you sit up in bed you get up and head start for your dresser drawer. As you fumble through it, Natasha watches you the entire time and doesn’t say anything else. You turn to her as you throw a change of clothes at her. You aren’t doing a good job of hiding your frustration but then again you don’t care about hiding it. You’re sick of it, you're sick of her being treated this way and you’re sick of seeing her bloody and bruised by the hand that’s shot to protect her. Natasha glares at the spread out clothes on the bed and snaps her eyes at you. “I didn’t come here for pity, I don’t need a change of clothes. The clothes I have on are just fine.”

“Those clothes are not fine, YOU are not fine Nat! You don’t need a reminder of what happened, your face is doing that all on its own.” You harshly whisper into the night. Your breathing is uneven, your head is starting to pound. It's four in the morning. You had very little energy to deal with this than you normally would have. Natasha wants you to forget about it, she wants you to not worry about her, she is enduring. She’s taking whatever comes her way to finish to the end. In the end when she’s the one running things in the family business. When she’s the one people are afraid of. When she has the power to make or end anyone she chooses. “I said, I don’t need pity.” She grabs the clothes and tosses them to the other side of the room with no guilt or remorse on her face. You want to kick her out, you want to yell at her for being stupid and stubborn. But you know, you know she wants to push you just to take the easy way out. She wants to find any little thing for her to run away from you and for the first time you’re starting not to care about her running away from you and her feelings.

“Then why did you come here?” She doesn’t have an answer for that she never has an answer for it at least not out loud, being in a relationship and dealing with expressing her emotions was still new to her. “If you didn’t come here for pity or to be cared for then leave out the same way you came because I’m not just going to keep ignoring this Nat, the way he treats you is not right. I’m sorry, I can’t be a shitty girlfriend and ignore the abuse that he causes you so if that’s what you want and if that’s what you’re looking for you’re wasting your time with me, I’ll never be okay with anyone hurting you.” “I’ll never be okay with you putting yourself through torture because you think you deserve it. You don’t deserve it Natalia.” You get back into your bed snatching your blanket on top of you and you make sure to turn over with your back facing Natasha. You can’t even see her facial expression right now, she’s in pure shock and an unfamiliar feeling that won’t go away is at the pit of her stomach. Her skin finally feels warm after walking in the cold for an hour to get to you. You once again feel the bed shift ready for your ears to hear the shut of your window but it never comes. There is nothing but silence.You're scared to turn around and be disappointed by her leaving instead of accepting the love and care that you constantly try giving her. The love and care she always rejects. Those deep thoughts are removed when strong arms wrap themselves around you again. this time pulling you closer. Her breath hits the back of your neck sending a chill down your spine. Her hands slightly tremble before getting more firm against your body. You don’t know if it's because of her bruised knuckles or if she’s actually nervous. “Sorry.” It’s all she says, it's all she can say at the moment but you’ll accept it seeing as how hard it is to even get her to apologize in the first place for anything.

“Will you let me get the first aid kit?” Natasha sighs, she still wasn’t fond of being catered to and being seen as weak. She silently nods her head against yours. You silently get up from the bed and tell Natasha to put the clean clothes on. While also being careful about making as little noises as possible, you honestly don’t know if your father is home or not as of late things have been very busy for him and the family. You return from the bathroom with the kit handing her the box to do it herself. You don’t want to be overly pushy when it comes to stuff like this, plus she’s quicker to get it done than you are. She finally undresses and you honestly weren’t expecting to see more bruises with each piece of clothing hitting the floor. She’s waiting for you to say something about them, ready for an excuse to lash out and push you away again. After seeing the extra wound you look away giving her some sense of privacy instead of making her feel like a displayed punching bag. You don't forget to subtly sit an icepack near her the way her eye is swelled up. It would most likely be shut closed by the morning time if not iced at the bare minimum. You ignore the way she huffs out a force of air through her nose, she is irritated but she still hasn’t snapped at you for it, not yet. You make your way back to the bed facing away from her. When she’s done treating her wounds and putting on the new night clothes you gave her she enters the bed again. There is a brief moment of silence before her stomach growls loudly, you feel her become stiff as if that would make her hunger disappear. “Are you hungry?”

“No” she replies immediately, it fascinates you how she’s quickly able to lie through her teeth. You raise an accusing eyebrow just as her hunger makes itself known once more, even louder than the first time. “Liar” Natasha sighs in defeat and finally answers truthfully. “Fine, I didn’t eat dinner. I was too busy internally bleeding.” She attempts to make a lighthearted joke that you don’t find funny at all. You poke her in her ribs. Natasha hisses in pain, the pain was so bad that she was nearly yelling out loud. Thankfully you’re quick by covering her mouth with your hands. “Shh, shut up!” You shush her cries and grunts of pain. When she’s calmed down a bit you finally remove your hands from her mouth. “What the fuck was that for?” She is still trying to steady her breathing and manage her pain. “I didn’t find that joke very funny, asshole.” You unwrap yourself from her embrace, without a word you stop in front of your bedroom door. “Promise me you won’t be gone when I come back?” You give a look of seriousness because she’s done it plenty of times leaving you without a word for a job, just because or simply because of her being overstimulated by emotions. “Fuck off.” She’s still upset about you poking at her wounds. You know her response is not in a malicious way so you ignore it. “Natasha, I’m serious.” She gives you her signature smirk remembering the last few times she’s done that to you, as she crosses an X over her heart. “And hope to die.” You nod once in agreement, anytime Natasha used that it meant she was serious about keeping her word. It’s a weird arrangement but it works in a twisted, melancholy way. You leave the room quickly and quietly, not taking long to prepare a snack. You return with her still in the same spot you left her in. You hand her a plate with a sandwich and a glass of milk to wash it down with. “I made your favorite, peanut butter and banana.” She can never just take things as they are so you weren’t surprised when she had a sarcastic response shooting from her mouth.“You gonna tuck me in and read me a story too?”

“I’m close to throwing you out my window now, do you want the food or not because I can give it to the other strays that would actually appreciate it.”

“Did you basically just call me a stray cat?” Your irritation grows more intense why? Why does she insist on being so difficult, especially at a time like this? “Yes, yes I did. Do you want it or not? I'm tired Nat.” You hold the plate and the cold glass out for her to reach. It takes a moment but after a brief pause she takes the food from you and nods her head. You know she’s thankful for it. You won’t be difficult with her tonight. After handing her the food you return to bed with the intention of going back to sleep on the verge you feel her hands wrapped around you. Her face pressed against yours and the smell of peanut butter invaded your nose. “Thank you.” Those two words weren’t just meant for the sandwich. Those two words were universal for Natasha; that's just how her brain worked. It was a thank you for everything not just tonight but other nights that have passed when she needed shelter like this. She ends her thanks with a kiss to your lips. “You’re welcome.”

“Tash?”

“Hm?”

“What if you left some of your clothes here for when this happens?” You don’t want to enable this situation but it’s evidently clear that this isn’t going to change anytime soon. Her father’s temper won’t change. His views on her life choices won’t change. Natasha’s mindset on leaving this life all together and running away with you won’t ever change. After a moment of awkward silence Natasha finally responds. “What am I a pet?”

“No, I just thought it would be more convenient…actually forget I said anything.” You turn away from her again. You don’t want her to see how overly mushy and clingy you’re being right now.

“Fine, I guess a few clothes won’t hurt.” Her voice comes out low and gentle. With that unexpected response you face her again ignoring the strained grunt that comes out of her mouth from the bed shifting. You place a small kiss to her nose and snuggle up to her chest. You massage her scalp gently knowing it helps her fall asleep faster. There’s still just one more thing in your mind and you have to ask her while she’s all buttered up. You were taking the crown for ultimate opportunist tonight.

“One more thing.” She groaned, she was actually tired now and her social meter was at its lowest point right now. “What now? And make it quick, I’m tired.” You want to slap her arm but remember the uncertainty of your father being home yet. Her breath fans over your cheek and her heartbeat finds a comfortable rhythm. Now’s your chance. “Promise me that you’ll be here in the morning when I wake up.” You hate the vulnerability in your voice sometimes you hate how much you display affection more than Natasha does. You shouldn’t be anxious to ask her for something so minuscule, but she doesn’t function like others would in a normal relationship. This was not a normal relationship no matter how bad you want it to be. “Promise.” She says it almost too fast for you. It was untrustworthy; she's known for ghosting you. “Not scared about daddy catching us together anymore?” It’s not a malicious question but the teasing is evident in her voice. She’s playing it cool right now but she was also in the same position. At times she’s being overly aware and cautious about how much time she spends away from the meeting in your fathers home office, how much she’s constantly timing herself knowing Alexei is doing the same waiting to catch her doing something so insignificant just to reprimand her. There were even times your father almost caught you two in uncompromising situations, when Natasha isn’t supposed to even be near you at all. Sometimes she's so cautious that she would ignore you completely while she was downstairs. She’s only been able to sneak away a few times to have a quick moment with you and even then that wasn’t enough for you. (It wasn’t enough for her either but you don’t know that yet.)

“Truthfully, l wouldn’t care if he found out. I just want you safe.” Once again Natasha curses in her mind another mushy moment that she can’t seem to deny tonight. She raises her hand over your chest. The action isn’t what you were expecting at first but then she crosses an X over your heart and whispers. “I promise.” She kisses you hard, taking your breath away, she clenches to you with need and purpose. You release a soft moan savoring in the warm embrace as long as she’s allowing you to. “Now please no more talking.” You scoff at her demanding request. “Hey, it’s my room.” She hums softly and shifts to place her face deeper into you, if she could jump into your skin right now she would but she’ll never tell you that. Natasha always needs the last word, so she mumbles into your neck. “Not while I’m in your bed, it’s not.” You mumble a sleepy ‘Whatever’ and let the rest of the early morning take over you. You needed rest but most importantly Natasha needed it more than anything right now. It’s honestly taking everything in you not to throw on your clothes and drag her to the emergency room but then you know she’ll ghost you for doing it.

You know she’ll leave you wondering about her wellbeing as retaliation. She’s done it before , going radio silent without a care in the world knowing how much it affects you. So you shake those invading thoughts and force yourself into a deep sleep. The morning comes and your body feels light, too light. You’re scared to open your eyes right now. You don’t want to be on the receiving end of disappointment. Being lied to even when you have the best intentions of keeping her safe. It sucks. It more than sucks, it’s honestly heartbreaking but you swallow the hurt and open your eyes to an empty bed. She’ll never change. You check your phone for time and it’s almost noon. You’re surprised your father hasn’t checked in on you yet but then again you didn’t even know if he was home. You toss your phone on the bed quickly turning over to scream your frustrations into your silk pillowcase. This isn’t nearly enough to keep your emotions in control but you get up from the bed to start your morning routine. Whatever you had planned to do with Natasha is not happening anymore.You'll find something expensive to buy with your credit card to cope with it. After a long hot shower you return to your room and the moments from early morning flash into your mind that you can’t keep it together anymore. You won’t be silent about this. You won’t endure pain just because she does. You stomp towards your bed with determination, you grab your phone angrily tapping away at the screen. Her phone goes straight to voicemail. Did she block your number? You never leave voicemails as it’s too dangerous in Natasha’s words but you’re angry not thinking clearly. “You think this is funny? You think you can walk all over me and my feelings? You promised, fuck that you crossed your heart! I swear I don’t know what you want from me.” You pace back and forth around your room. “I don’t know what I can do to show you how much I care about you and how much good you deserve in this world. Until you can give me an answer I don’t want to see your face, you lying piece of shit!” Just as you yell those words your window opens up and the first thing you see in the reflection of your vanity mirror is a black leather boot. You swiftly turn around as Natasha stands there.

“Who’s a lying piece of shit?” You don’t answer her as you end the voicemail and toss your phone on the bed. Your silence is becoming awkward for her. “What? Why are you looking at me like that? And why do you look like you’re about to breathe fire out of your mouth?”

“You left.”

“What?”

“You left, and you promised that you would stay.” Natasha walks back to the window and ducks down, her body half way through the opening before she grabs something and closes it completely. She brings a bag to your eye view. “I went to get you breakfast.”

“What? You don’t do that, that’s not something you do.”

“Oh, thanks I’ll remember that next time I want to do something for my girlfriend.” Natasha tosses the bag of food down on your desk and does nothing to hide her annoyed response. “Sorry.” Natasha brushes past your apology, she doesn’t get angry about it. She doesn’t fault you for her repeated patterns. She instead changes the subject. “Is the offer still on the table?” She stands there with a clenched jaw and an unwavering stare. Her eyes never leave yours, it's becoming too much right now.whatever is going to come out of her mouth is clearly stressing her out to even say out loud. “What offer?”

“Ya know, the whole dresser drawer girlfriend privilege thing.” You swear you saw a ghost of a grin, it was so quick you'd miss it if you blinked. Natasha was actually loving this new found step in the relationship. Just from the sound of the title, she’d be lying if she said she isn't making her day better. She can’t keep it a secret, it’s not like she didn’t rummage through your drawers anyway she might as well have some of her own in there as well. You smile at her trying to soften up the reasoning behind the drawer being offered in the first place. You’re glad she isn’t seeing it as a pity offering and finally accepting some of the perks of being in a safe space.

“Yes, of course it is.” You try not to sound too eager, if you failed Natasha doesn’t comment on it. She nods in agreement and heads back out the window leaving you confused until she brings her backpack in with her and once again shutting the window. You want to ask her if she went back home for those clothes. You want to yell at her if she did return knowing you wanted her safe. With one look she can tell what’s going on in your mind and she’s quick to ease it. “Yelena, packed it for me.” She gently tugs at her bruised bottom lip ignoring the pain and starts unzipping the bag and placing her clothes into a drawer. You don’t say anything, you let her do whatever she wants. You let her have confidence and pride in placing her belongings with yours.

When she’s done you rush over to her, pulling her into a bruising kiss that knocks her back into your dresser. She releases a low grunt from the contact and allows you to take control. After a moment you pull away from her lips. She looked dazed and breathless. “I’m sorry.” You kiss her again. The first kiss catches her off guard but she immediately holds you firmly against her. “Thank you for the breakfast.” You kiss her again. “Thank you for putting your safety first this time.” You pull back as you breathlessly whisper those words against her lips. Her hands tighten against your hips. She wants you close, she needs you close. Her lips take control this time, her tongue brushes against your lips in a silent understanding. You give her access and her tongue immediately enters your mouth. It’s too much to keep up with, she's messy today, normally she’s so calm, collected, and patient but not right now. She can’t right now because she has too much to give to you. Too much appreciation to show you what her words won’t allow. Maybe she’ll get better with that in the future. You have to pull away when you hear the sound of a car door shutting, you’re not sure if it's your father or not but you won't take the chance of being caught. Natasha groans, still chasing your lips. You chuckle at the action and promise her later to continue. You give her one last kiss as you pull away. “Let’s eat this breakfast before it gets cold.” You open the bag and it’s nothing but greasy food, you won’t complain because it’s the thought that counts.

After eating the greasy breakfast you enjoyed the nice moment of just having her company. It was a rare occasion where Natasha got to spend this much time with you. Natasha is going through her tossed away clothes from last night, pulling out her phone she taps away at the screen that you noticed is cracked now. The screen remains black and she turns to you, ignoring your watchful gaze and curious mind. She doesn’t want to talk about it. You remind yourself.

“Hey, can I use your charger, my phone is dead.”

“Yeah sure.” And then you think about it…the voicemail you left. If Natasha’s phone was charged it would’ve ceased your mind about her being gone from your bed this morning. You quickly snatch her phone from her. “Okay?” She looks at you curiously with clenched eyebrows. “I, uh left a not so nice voicemail on your phone when I thought you left, so yeah.” The reaction you get is not what you expected from her. Instead of being upset about it she’s being very playful. “Oh, yeah? Let me hear it.” You frown at her response. You couldn’t stay in the same room with her after letting her hear what you said, because she might leave. You never when Natasha might blow up at you or just leave you in the darkness. There’s also part of you that wants to remain honest with her no matter what. In doing this you hand her the phone anxiously waiting until her phone powers up again while on the charger. Natasha can sense it and it’s the main reason why she wants to hear it. How bad could it be? What’s so horrible about this voicemail? She reflects back to how angry you looked when she came in and she’s not so sure if she even wants to hear it now. Her finger hovers over the play button, she takes a moment to truly think about what the outcome would be if the words you said were too harsh or too real for her to handle. She presses play and she hears it. She hears everything and feels the raw emotions behind your voice. It doesn’t feel good, it's not a feeling she wants to experience again. Sure you’ve had your share of arguments and temporary breakups but this time it would be different. You basically gave her an ultimatum. Show how much you mean to her or stay away from you. She doesn’t even care that you called her a lying piece of shit. If Natasha did ultimately decide to leave this morning and not come back you would be done with her. That’s what’s making her upset. She places her phone Back on the desk to continue charging. She doesn’t say anything to you after hearing the message. She takes her jacket off and tosses it on your chair, she then starts to unlace her boots tossing those as well across your room. You stand there curiously wondering what would happen next. Natasha’s mood can switch quickly through different emotions. Just like now, you aren’t sure what type of Natasha you would get.

“I wanted to do something nice for you and you call me a lying piece of shit.”

“You were gone Nat, you didn’t even leave a note, how was I supposed to know?”

She scoffs, not appreciating your response. “You could have trusted me.” You pinch the bridge of your nose not understanding how your cute and soft moment has turned into an argument…again. “Why are you trying to pick a fight with me right now?”

“I'm not picking a fight, you left the voicemail, not me.”Natasha folds her arms defensively. you sigh deeply, she was indeed picking a fight with you. You’re tired of the push and pull of it all when it comes down to her and this relationship. “Are you serious right now? We already moved past this!”

“No, you moved past this and we both know that you're still upset about it.” She’s right you were still upset about it but you were willing to deal with it on your own. Clearly Natasha isn’t gonna let that happen. “C’mon, I can take it.” you look at her curiously, not knowing where she was heading with this. She steps closer to you repeating herself again. “C’mon you want to let go of your anger? Take it out on me, I'm used to it.”

“Nat, stop.” When it's clear you’re not going to yell at her, shove her or degrade her she pushes you further. She shoves your shoulder lightly the first time then again with more force that sends you stumbling into your dresser. Natasha stalks towards you slowly cornering you against the cherry wood. “You sure you don’t want to hit me? Smack me around a bit?” her jaw is clenched tight, her eyes are glossy but the tears remain concealed in her eyes. “I can’t take it, hit me.”

“Nat.” Your frustration grows, and the more you soak in what’s happening in front of you, the more you hate Alexei. You hate him for making her this way.

“Hit me.” She stares at you baring teeth in an animalistic way. Invading your personal space as she moves closer, her lips just a mere centimeter way from yours.

“No!” You're firm in your answer not holding back your emotion behind it either, but that only riles Natasha up even more.

“Coward.” you roll your eyes at this. You couldn't believe what you were witnessing right now. Your girlfriend needed some serious and immediate therapy. “If that makes me a coward then so be it, but like I said before I’’ll never be okay with seeing you hurt. I’ll never be okay with anyone hurting you, that includes me.” Your response catches her off guard but she maintains her composure, not giving anything away. You’ve had enough, you reached the end of your breaking point. Natasha pushed too far, as much as you want to unpack what just happened just now you can't. The fact that she thought provoking you into hitting her would make things better because she’s used to it is all you need to see. You wont allow yourself to coddle her, for the first time ever. “Get out, I’m not doing this with you.”

Her eyes scan you over, waiting to see if you were luffing. Your stone cold, unwavering and upset. It's when you attempt to move from your spot against the dresser that has Natasha making the first move. She slams her lips against yours with desperation. You are still upset , you don't want to be kissing her, you don't like that she can pull you back in after pulling a stunt like this, but you can’t ignore it. You’re never really strong enough to stay away from her for too long anyway. “I didn’t mean-” this time you’re the one to cut the conversation short. As much as you didn’t want her to trauma dump on you, you were still going to consider the fact that she did share with you in a weird twisted way. “Shut up.” you cup her face pulling her back into the kiss. Her movements are quick, hands moving naturally against your body. You release a soft moan, as Natasha continues her trail beneath the waistband of your jeans. “Nat, your ribs.”

“It’s fine, I’ll deal with it after. You’re more important.” You don't get the chance to protest against her selflessness. “Nat what if-” her hand slams against your mouth, cutting off any excuse you were trying to give her. She wasn't interested in hearing it. Truth be told she's using this as an excuse herself to let out her own previous frustrations, it is not entirely about an angry voicemail you left. “I. don’t. fucking. care.” Each word ends with a deep thrust. your eyes widen, you clench around her fingers. She’s moving more quickly than usual. Her movements still have the same impact under these circumstances. She's focused on your body and how you’re reacting and nothing else. Everything else is white noise. Your moan is muffled, your throat is burning with restraint. “What was that?”

“I Can’t hear you baby, speak up.” She kisses your cheek and drags her lips against your skin towards your earlobe. “Look at you, leaking down my hand.” For a quick moment she looks down at the mess you’ve made all over her fingertips. The sight

“Am I a lying piece of shit?” you quickly shake your head, denying your own words. A condescending pout makes ”Say you’re sorry.” she removes her hand from your mouth, basically snatching it away. “Im- fuck, I’m sorry.”

“You were worried about me?” it's not a soft moment, she’s teasing you. Almost as if she's making fun of you for having human emotions, something she doesn't really seem to have. It doesn't phase you, you're used to it. The question was rhetorical, she knows you were. You’re always worried about her. This was for her own ears to hear. To hear that she mattered beyond being an attack dog or used as a pawn. Natasha kisses you softly this time, a change of emotion. “Cum for me.” Natasha's pace picks up, she flexes her muscles until they burn. She doesn’t care, she just wants to please you right now, she wants to feel your want and need for her. It sends you over the edge, your walls clench with desperation against Natasha's nimble fingers, you grip her hand pausing her further movements of trying to drag you through another round. She pulls back slightly, resting her forehead against yours waiting for you to catch your breath.

“I’m not trying to fuck this up y/n.” it was a form of an apology and once again you would accept it. You nod slowly letting her words sink in. “I know, and I know you’ll probably never talk to me about it in detail, but just know you can. You don’t have to keep it bottled up inside and you don’t have to provoke me to release your frustrations.” her only response is to kiss you. Kiss you hard. The sudden movement of her pulling away from you in pain raised alarms in your mind.

“Natasha, what’s wrong?” She’s clenching her side groaning in pain.you knew you should've done more to stop her. The untreated wounds are clearly more than what they seem.

Natasha starts coughing relentlessly, causing immediate concern especially when you’ve noticed the blood in the palm of her hand. “Natasha, get your shoes on now I’m taking you to the hospital.” She pulls away from you and shakes her head. “No, I’m-“ You cut her off, not letting the same words come out of her mouth. You’re sick of hearing it. “I swear if you finish that sentence.” You don’t want all the progress she’s made to be for nothing but you also want her to make the right choice. “They’ll ask questions and I’m not in the mood to play family feud.”

“What about Melina?” Natasha releases a heavy sigh and shakes her head. “No, I don’t want to see her either.” Now you’re really curious to know what happened. If Natasha doesn’t want help from her mother something major occurred at that house. You might have to badger Yelena about it later; she can never keep things away from you like her sister can. “Okay then, I know someone who can help.” You nervously bite your lip anxiously as you gather yourself for the potential response she could give you just from hearing one name. “Who?” She leans towards her left side placing all the weight of her body on her leg. She grunts slowly, still trying to contain her pain level and it fails, it fails miserably in your watchful gaze. “Val.” Natasha’s eyes snapped at you, anger was beyond describing her expression right now. She growls through her clenched jaw, baring her teeth like some type of wildlife animal on a hunt or protecting its own. You won’t like a possessive and feral Natasha was always a win for you but this comes down to life or death, especially with how stubborn she is. You’d drag her down the front steps all the way to Valkyrie’s private medical facility she’s interning at without a care in the world about the nasty and insulting things she’d throw at you.

“No fucking way, I’d rather bleed out.” Natasha says flatly, there is no smirk, grin or playful tone to her response. She was being serious, a bit dramatic but nonetheless serious. “Don’t say shit like that asshole. You need medical attention and since you don’t want that on record this is the way we have to go…unless you want to tell me why you don't want your own mother to help.” Natasha contemplates on her choices, she really hates Valkyrie but in this instance she really didn’t want to see her mother. Natasha grumbles as she moves away to put her boots and jacket back on. You take the actions as her accepting defeat, you move around the room to put your shoes on and grab your keys. As you move to open your door Natasha places a quick and firm hand against yours. “What are you doing?” she raises an eyebrow at your actions. “I’m opening the door?” you mirror her same expression clearly not understanding what the problem was.

“You want me to walk out the front door? You would think you're the one internally bleeding right now.”

“Are you seriously gonna go out the window again?” Now you understand, but you won’t waste this opportunity to tease her like she did to you. “Oh, look who's scared now?” Your grin is enough to pull an unamused frown on Natasha’s face. With the possibility of your father being home and the injuries, she’s facing, Natasha would only slow you down. Ultimately leading to another brawl between her and your father, she barely has enough energy to stand on her own right now. She's truly indulging the pain. Natasha didn't want to risk it. Is it stupid, dumb and carless to go out of a window and climb down the side of a balcony? Yes, but it's what she has to do.

“Shut up and grab me a snack from the kitchen on your way out.” Natasha gives you a quick peck, steps away from you and heads towards the window. Your girlfriend is an asshole but she's your asshole and, in the night, when you get to hold her again the arguments you two had today will mean nothing, as long as she's safe in your arms. you'll care for her; you'll love her in the night.

#damage control au #natasha romanoff x reader #mob!natsha romanoff x reader

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cxrdycxps · 10 months ago

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Knowing Me Like You Do • Abby Anderson

☢️ pwp • sex as a distraction • slight pussy slapping • biting • love bites • what could be described as a panic attack in the beginning • shower sex • kind of public surroundings but no one is there ☢️

Main Masterlist • Abby Anderson Masterlist

Your head pressed against the cool ceramic tile and you used it to ground your racing heart. Your patrol had been a close one today and your heart still hadn’t gotten the message that the danger was gone. Two of the other decontamination showers were also running and you thanked whatever deity that listened for Manny and Nora for having your back today.

You inhaled deeply and let your exhale out between puckered lips, trying to regain control of your emotions. The left over adrenaline was lighting up your nervous system and it was making you jittery, your body shaking even under the warm water.

You have yourself a perfunctory scrub with the anti-fungal soap and listened as one shower turned off and then the other. Manny called his goodbyes first and Nora followed a minute later reminding you to eat before you slept to combat the adrenaline crash.

You weren’t sure if you had answered her. You weren’t sure if you were contained within your skin or if you had burst open like the flesh of the bloater you had encountered earlier.

“Baby?” You jumped when the soft voice spoke, had gentle hand reaching out to your hip. “You gotta be clean by now.”

“Abby.” You sighed, relaxing back into her arms. She pulled you against her, skin on skin. She had stripped down to join you. Your nerve endings were alight but the familiar touch was a soothing balm to them. “You’re here.”

“I met Nora in the canteen. I didn’t realize you guys were back tonight.” She was rocking you slowly, one hand stroking back and forth across your stomach. “She said it was a rough one?”

“Abby, make me forget.” You whispered, your head falling back on her shoulder, turning to press your lips to her neck. “Please.”

“Mm for now I will. But we’re talking later.” She whispered against your skin, twisting her neck to kiss you. You let your eyes close and forced yourself to only feel her.

Every place where your skin pressed together felt like heaven to you. Your heart stopped racing, your breathing came easier. A heavy fog settled over your thoughts that narrowed everything down to her.

She kissed you gently, letting it build when you opened your mouth to the press of her tongue. She let one hand wrap around your waist while the other travelled over you skin, her fingers dragging against you, slippy from the water of the shower.

Her finger ghosted up your arm, across your collarbone and back down your sternum. When you whined against her lips she only shushed you with a breath before kissing you again. Her fingers tracing the bottom of your ribs.

With the same gentle touch she traced back up to your chest and down to brush barely there touches against your nipples, trading back and forth so that you didn’t know where she’d touch you next. “That’s it, there’s my Baby.”

When you melted against her she let her touch turn rougher, pinching and pulling now instead of just tracing. You whined against her mouth and she nipped at you bottom lip sharply. “Take what you’re given.”

The hand around your waist took in the ghosting touch, tracing the crease of your groin and then trailing through the coarse curls to the other side. You writhed against her and she groaned, abandoning her touch to grip your hip tightly and grind herself against your ass. “You behave or I’ll get myself off, dry you off and bring you back to the room horny.”

“You wouldn’t dare.” You challenged, grabbing her hand and bringing it away from your chest and sliding it down your stomach. She didn’t resist when you traced one of her fingers through your folds. “Get me off.”

Abby chuckled against the skin of your neck, teeth nipping lightly. You knew she wouldn’t deny you, she hadn’t got it in her. She believed in instant gratification. She got her kicks from getting you to cum. Teasing didn’t appeal to her and you knew her well enough to know that her threats were empty.

You gasped when her middle finger rubbed tight circles against your clit. She always knew what you needed. Sometimes she knew the only thing that would get you off would be her tongue, loose and sloppy. Some days you needed her strap with a longing so hard it physically hurt.

But sometimes the desperation was so sharp that anything more than her finger on your clit would ruin it all, knock you out of your head. You wound one arm up to wrap around her head, fisting her hair tightly. “Right fucking there.”

She laughed against your neck again, her index finger joining her middle finger. She stopped with the circles and just rubbed left to right and back again with enough pressure that your body jerked against her. “When we go back to the room you’re sitting on my face. I swear, Abby.”

“When we get back to the room you’ll pass out. When you wake I’ll sit on your face.” She promised, sucking on the skin of your neck and you knew you’d get shit for it tomorrow but right now it felt so good you just let it happen. “You’re so tense, let it go.”

Your jaw clenched and you ground your teeth but shook your head. You weren’t there yet, it wasn’t quite right. Something was missing. “Not yet.”

Abby laughed against the junction of your neck and shoulder, the pressure of her fingers increasing. You were writhing against her, right one the edge when her fingers withdrew for a second, her hand slapping down against your clit at the same second she bit into your flesh.

You were glad the showers had emptied when you screamed and a second slap followed before her two fingers were back to the swiping pressure. “Fucking cum. Now.”

You did as told, moaning loudly and collapsing back against her. Your body shook with the force for your orgasm and you gasped for breath. “Fucking love you.”

“I know you do. I love you too, baby. Now let’s get you dry and fed so you can sleep.”

#abby anderson x you #abby anderson smut #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson tlou #abby tlou #abby the last of us #the last of us #tlou #Abby Anderson fanfiction #Abby Anderson one shot #Abby Anderson x afab reader #abby anderson #Abby smut

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onelittlespiral · 1 year ago

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FML: Loop

I woke up with a start.

My head was killing me. What did I get up to last night? I was supposed to just hang out with a buddy of mine. But there is no way this is his place. For one, the room around me is bare. Just grey carpet and white walls. I mean, he’s no designer but I would at least expect a lamp or a tv or a dresser. Something. I start to get out of bed when I notice myself. I am nearly nude, stripped down to an unfamiliar jockstrap. Definitely not a good look for me. It’s kind of tight and I am quickly growing self conscious of my body on full display. What is going on? I start to look for my buddy, but quickly realize there isn’t any door to the room I am in. The barren walls leave no means of escape. Panic sets in. I begin shouting for help, searching for any hidden means of escape. The headache is only intensifying, and before too long I am sat back in the bed.

I try to remember the night before. I had been out with some buddies downtown, we had gone to a new bar none of us had been to…what was it called? I don’t know, something that probably should have clued me in that it was a gay bar. I knew the two other guys swung both ways but I was uncomfortable the whole night over in the corner. Some guy came up to me though, what was his name? N… started with an n. Suddenly, the lights in the room go out. A strange sound begins to play, as my headache vanishes in an instant. As colored lights fill my vision, I feel as though I am falling through the air. I am aware of each moment that passes as I pass into nothingness. Then, everything goes black…

I am usually not a dreamer, and when I am they are quite simple. But something was different that night. I dreamt that night of a vast sky and a falling forest. I was surrounded by animals and trees, plummeting towards a ground that did not exist. I tried to explore the sky, but could not find a place to land. What I did find was a bear. A beast of the forest. I watched its magnificent fur streak through the sky. Suddenly, it turned its attention on me, and pounced.

I woke up with a start.

My head was pounding. Man, what happened? I scratch my face and look around. I kept scratching. My stubble was irritated, I should make sure not to cut it so close to the skin. Around me was just a bare room. No windows, no doors, nothing. I got up to look around, nearly falling over as I did so. It was so strange. I felt like somehow I was taller than I was before and- AHH- headache was hitting. I sat back down on the bed. As I try to relax, I take stock of myself. It’s only then that I notice what I am wearing. Or rather, what I am not. Only a jockstrap hangs loosely around my waist, the rest of my body is on full display. I feel a bit self conscious about showing off so much of my lanky body, so I wrap up in the blanket on the bed. I sit and try to recall what happened last night. I had been trying to go… somewhere. With… Nick, maybe? But I don’t know why, I don’t think I knew him. He wrapped his arm around me and I just felt safe. God, everything was an absolute blur. Without any other options, I shout out for someone, anyone to give me some help. And the room seems to respond. In an instant, the lights go out and a sound that I can’t quite place but seems somehow familiar fills the room. Then, the lights go harsh, blinding me as I hear a faint hiss all around me. A sweet smelling gas hits my nose, and I am falling down, down, down…

I dream that night of food and the gym, a cacophony of metal plates and frying meats. The dream feels heavy. There is resistance and strain to lift every well-earned bite to my mouth. All the while, a sweet smell wafts through the scenes, one that drives me to push harder and eat a little bit more.

I woke up with a start.

My body and head were aching. What happened last night? I looked around the room and felt a strange feeling of deja vu. This was, like, so weird. As I moved to get up, my body felt sluggish and bloated. Looking down, nothing seems out of the ordinary. I flex a little to feel my fat pecs and biceps swell. Yeah dude, this pump is pretty sick, even for the day after… after… after what? Suddenly, a migraine hits like a bus. Fuck, I’ve got to turn down the lights in here. I fumble around trying to find the switch, but I notice that the walls are bare. No light switch, no door, not even a closet. Damn, really wanted to put something on other than this jock strap… wait, what jock strap? I feel my bare body and the skin tight jock trying to hold back my cock. As I brush against it, it begins to come to life. It feels so sensitive as I gently run my hands over it, but as it continues to swell a thought enters my mind: this is all wrong. The jock, this dick, the room, my body. What is happen-AUGH! I hold my head as I fall to the floor in pain. My mind is being bombarded with conflicting sensations of pain and pleasure as my now throbbing member shoots through the pain with insatiable lust. My mind is trying to grab for memories that aren’t there. Memories of this room and how I ended up here. Memories of friends and family who I know must be there but I can’t quite picture their faces. Memories of why I feel so strange in this large, bulky… awkward… strong… sensitive body. I let myself feel my chest and rub my perky nips. All I can remember is a man’s face, pulling me into this room. As I continue to rub with my thumbs, swirling fur between my thumb and chest, the pain begins to subside. God, they’re just as sensitive as my cock now. Continuing to rub with my left hand, I move my right down to my dick as I rub the first drops of pre around my fat mushroom tip. A faint moan escaped my lips. The rest may feel wrong but this feels so right. I am forced to release all inhibitions about what may be happening. This feels sooo good I can’t focus on anything but my own body. I am about to start stroking when the lights begin to flicker. Not again!… again? I feel something curl around my left arm, holding it in place, then my right. They lift me over to the bed, where I am then locked in by my ankles. I try to fight back, pull myself out of whatever contraption I’m in, but to no avail. A helmet is coming down from the ceiling, locking my head in place and obscuring my vision. A prick at the base of my neck turns my body limp in an instant. A screen in front of me flickers to life, and the patterns it plays are so… strangely… soothing. My mind lowers resistance as I feel myself falling down… down….. down.

I have strange dreams like I never have before. Dreams of flashing lights and pulsing music. Bodies that morph and swell. Hair and sweat and muscle mingle together in a cloud of lust and musk. Years passed by in that place. Somehow I feel at home.

I woke up with a start.

My head was throbbing, begging for my attention. What was I up to last night that left it this excited? My balls were heavy and aching. I knew that if I didn’t get some relief now, it would just be a distraction all day. I reached down and pulled my pipe out of my damp jock strap. A heady scent wafted up from the soiled pouch. My cock was already slick with pre, so I slowly began rubbing my hands over my plump, mushroom tip and girthy member. It wasn’t long before I was pumping with one hand while rubbing the other up and down my pelt of fur. I found a rhythm, some short thrusts while twisting one of my nips, that was driving me wild this morning. It was not long before I busted a nut, shooting my load over my broad torso. I relished the sensation of rubbing my cum into the forest of fur on my belly. Satisfied, I got up, and walked over to the corner of the room where a fresh tank top and jeans were laid out. I slipped them on, feeling them hug my curves and fur and muscle, sat down, and waited

It wasn’t long before my helmet dropped down. I carefully pulled it on and strapped it in place. It was so safe and calm in my helmet. So perfect. As it whirled to life, I gazed eagerly into the colors and listened intently to the strange sounds. I felt a tickle move through my spine as my muscles relaxed and flexed, relaxed and flexed, growing by command. I couldn’t help it as my eyes went cross as my memories stretched and changed like putty. I remembered playing the circuit party scene, partying hard and fucking harder. I remembered cruising through my twenties, playing the apps in my thirties, all to end up with my partner now, Nicholas. He was my world, my joy, my play thing. We dated for years before I proposed in 2015. And now here we are, years later, and it was as though I was falling in love with him for the first time. But my libido was being raised through the roof, and my tender love was turning to lust. I needed him, legs up, ass lubed now. The thought of his mouth working magic on my shaft was driving me wild.

I didn’t even notice when the helmet has pulled away, I was lost in my fantasies. Until he spoke.

“You just gonna sit there babe?”

My beautiful boy was laying across the room from me. In an instant nothing else mattered, I dove across the room to feel his soft lips.

He grunted his approval, “Fuck, look at you!” He ran his hand through my fur. I flexed my biceps for him so he could feel my muscles. He playfully grabbed my nips and twisted, a moan escaping my mouth before I grabbed him,

“You aren’t supposed to do that without permission,” I growled.

He chuckled and rolled his eyes, “oh like you don’t love it.” He made another grab but, this time I caught his wrists and pinned him down under my weight,

“Try that again and it’s a rough night for you. I don’t have to give you what you want.” I rubbed my crotch against his.

His eyes went big and sad, his signature puppy dog eyes. “Please, I’ll behave,” he said before giving me a wink. He knew I couldn’t say no to him.

I pulled back and ripped off my tank top. I let him kiss my torso as I unzipped and pulled off my jeans. It felt so right to be here with him. I couldn’t imagine life any other way. I grabbed the lube and rubbed it generously over my shaft before I flipped Nick over.

“Ass up, boy. Daddy’s coming home.”

#transformation #male transformation #fml #straight to gay #daddy bear #tf #muscle tf #bear tf

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scorpioriesling · 1 year ago

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I (Almost) Don't Believe You

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

Pairing(s): Brennan x reader

Warnings: mutual pining, tiny mention of injury

Summary: It was already bad enough to find out your father and brother invaded your best friend's privacy; but sending you on a mission where it nearly killed her? Unbelieveable. What else is unbelieveable? The boy you'd fallen for so long ago would only be waiting for you on the other side...

SR’s Note: Um okay, as I am progressing through Iron Flame rn... like, Brennan is... ooh okay I am liking him quite a bit. He's helping ease the pain of loosing Liam (': Jokes, jokes... I don't think I'll ever get over that reality. Enjoy, lovelies.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

The hours you'd been counting seemed to blur together as exhaustion weighed heavily on your shoulders. Was it exhaustion? Maybe it was just guilt. After everything you'd seen and gone through today, differentiating the two was... well, near impossible.

Your dragon has been all but silent, giving you time as thoughts race through your mind. Would your best friend wake up? If she didn't, the male sitting to your left would be all but gone too. A male you've come around to, especially seeing the way your closest friend reacts in his presence.

Gods, you wished for something like that.

Violet stirrs, her brow furrowing and shoulders moving on the cot where she lay. Both you and Xaden lean forward instinctively at the same time, and he huffs a small laugh as he glances sidelong at you. The two of you haven't spoken much since the arrival, and you're sure his mind is racing just as yours is.

"Vi... I hope you wake soon, you have people who've been waiting forever to see you," Xaden whispers. Your heart warms at his words -- long gone is the fearsome Wingleader you'd met only a year ago, and his familiar warmth is graciously returned in Violet's presence. She rolls to her side, eyes squeezing closed as she lets out a wide yawn. Xaden is on his feet in an instant -- you're quick to follow, flanking to her bedside.

"Violet?" You whisper. Xaden extends his hand, brushing hair from her face as she slowly blinks her eyes open. You can practically count the emotions swirling in her green eyes -- the one she registers and lands on quickly though, is confusion.

"Xaden... Y/N..." She pushes to a sitting position, Xaden clutching her shoulders and helping her readjust. She rubs her eyes with the back of her hand, and looks around the room in confusion.

"Where... what is this?" She asks. Xaden sighs, hanging his head low. Her eyes meet yours in silent question, and you shrug. "Hey, I could ask the same thing. The more important thing right now is that you're awake..." You say.

"Awake and healing quickly," Xaden adds. His fingers have threaded through hers, and her confusion quickly turns to anger.

"Don't... don't think I've forgotten-" She yanks up the side of her shirt, revealing a dull purple bruise on her side. Angry black veins thread from the injury, and her gaze flicks back to Xaden.

"I haven't forgotten." Is all she says, and you feel sorry for Xaden. Sure; you're grateful your spitfire of a best friend is alive and well, but her gaze could cut right through him.

"I know." Is all he says, so hushed that you barely hear it. You nod once, and begin backing away from the bed.

"I'll... leave you guys for a while." You say. Xaden nods, and Violet shoots you a pleading glance. You can see her asking you not to leave her alone with him, but you know they have a lot to talk about.

You decide instead to head down the hallway outside the door, finding a kitchen shortly along your way. If you were going to give your friends space, you might as well do something productive. A million thoughts raced through your mind; where were you? Where were the others? How far from Basgiath were you? Not to mention the millions of thoughts plaguing your brain about your father, your brother; knowing what they were sending not only this section, but their own family into...

You shake your head. Productive. Rifling through the foreign cabinets, you look for something to make.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

The afternoon sun is dipped low beyond the horizon, painting the sky in streaks of violet and navy as night falls. It didn't take long for the others to find you -- perhaps it was the smell of the dinner you'd scraped together that drew them in.

The first two days, Garrick or Bodhi were sent out to retrieve food for the group, and you decided by day three that you should lend a hand. After all, you'd been shown many house-chores like this over the years; your father never expected you to become a rider rather than a housewife, that is. Neither did your brother, and you knew he didn't like it one bit.

Your older brother Dain had always been protective over you; but his overprotection only intensified when your best friend's brother died, and he practically treated the two of you as though you were made of glass. When you'd braced the parapet, he looked ready to hurl, never expecting his little sister (or her fearless best friend, for that matter) to dare entering the rider's quadrant.

But, your appreciation for his overprotection died the moment he used his signet to send your section to certain death. Not only did he send you, his only sibling; but the girl he'd oogled over, swore so many times he loved with all of his heart, right along with you.

It didn't matter now. Everything was different.

"I don't know how you did it," Garrick smiles, sitting on the bench seat near the small dining table in the kitchen. "But you've got some skill, Y/N. I mean seriously, who scrounges all this up in a place they've never been, and produces such a delicious meal?" He shakes his head, shoveling a huge bite of stew into his mouth. You smile as Imogene makes her way into the space.

"Gods, I could simply kiss you for this," Bodhi follows her in, snatching up a bowl and waiting behind Imogene for his turn to scoop from the pot. You chuckle.

"You mean to tell me that you don't enjoy going out and hoping to return with food for us all?" You raise an eyebrow playfully, and before he can answer, Violet enters the kitchen. You instinctively make your way to her, and her pained smile emerges as she pulls you in for a light hug.

"How are you feeling?" Imogene chides, perching in a chair across from Garrick and looking Violet over. You let go of her, and she glances around to everyone.

"I'm... I'll be alright." She says, and you nod. Her eyes meet yours, and she quickly whispers, "We need to talk."

Your eyes widen, and you glance to the stove where the awaiting pot sits. "Violet, you haven't eaten in days-"

"It can wait." She rushes, taking hold of your wrist and all but dragging you into the hallway and out of earshot from the others. You glance around, and she sighs.

"Violet, I know you have questions; I mean, so do I, but-"

"Brennan is alive." She stares straight into your eyes, and a wave of adrenaline rushes over you at her words.

"Violet, what are you-"

"He's alive. He's here. Brennan. He's..." She fumbles, her hands clasping and releasing frantically. You place a hand on her shoulder lightly. "He's alive, Y/N." She says in finality. You shake your head, a small smile appearing on your lips.

"Violet, you might be thinking some wild things, they did give you a lot of medicine-" She grasps both of your shoulders with her hands, holding tight and giving you an incredulous look.

"Would I lie about something like this?" She whisper shouts. You furrow your brows at her.

"No! Gods no, I don't think you're lying, I just..." You shrug defeatedly. "He's been dead for six years, Vi. The last time we spoke of him..." Your throat tightens at the memory. "His soul was being condemned to Malek." The way the fire sparked as his belongings were thrown in. The way Violet cried for weeks, you sleeping in her room with her for sheer comfort. The way your heart tightened every time you thought of the way he used to look at you; his soft voice, so contrasted against his mother's uniformed nature. The way he'd lend you his books, sitting and talking with you for hours on end...

"Fine. Go see for yourself." She gestures down the hallway, the countless doors fading to dark as it stretched on. "Fifth door on the left. He's probably still in there." She says. You sigh, looking to her once more.

"Violet-"

"I'm going in to eat." She walks through the kitchen entryway once more, leaving you alone in the hallway. You sigh, wiping your clammy hands on your pants. You head down the hallway, counting the doors as you go. One, two, three... four...

You stood, face-to-face with the fifth wooden door, the only sound this far down the hall was your ragged breaths. You swallowed, raking your fingers through your hair as you remembered you'd been wearing the same, disgusting leathers for three days. If he really was on the other side of this door, you hated that the first thing he'd see of you in six years was... well, not your favorite look.

You knock softly, and the door creaks open. You hastily shove it open, breath catching as you peered around the room. The empty room, that is. Moving inside, you took in various things; tons of papers, many books, quills and ink pots upon the desk-

Your breath catches in your throat as you spot a tome that you'd recognized. It was one Brennan gave to you all those years ago, when you were nothing but a teenager with a crush. Your heart still fluttered at the feeling, the ache in your heart as fresh as it was the day he died.

You huff, not sure why you expected anything but this. VIolet was on many remedies, and there was no world in which a man that had died would come back to life, no matter how convincing your best friend sounded.

A small knock sounds on the door behind you, and your head whips around from the papers you'd begun staring at. Your heart immediately seizes as your eyes meet those familiar brown irises you'd longed for, for so, so long.

"Y/N?" Brennan whispers, and you can't help the immediate sting of tears behind your pupils as you look him up and down. It felt surreal; his cream-colored button down is only buttoned up half way; his fitted trousers outlining every muscle along his masculine legs. Your hand flies to your mouth as you gasp, the words choked behind a sob rising in your throat.

"Brennan?" You stutter, and his eyes widen as he immediately surpasses the door way. You don't stop yourself from stepping quickly toward him, throwing your arms around his neck as a soft cry escapes your lips. He was real. He was really real, he had to be. The ends of his brown curls, longer now than when you'd seen him last, tickle your forarms as you pull him close. His arms wrap tightly around your waist, lifting you on to your tip toes as he stands at his full height.

You can't contain the tears flowing from your eyes as you breathe him in deep; his familiar scent of cedar and cotton bringing you back to all of those special moments you'd shared before; sitting close, sharing stories and thoughts. All of those almosts.

Before he …died, anyway.

You pull back to look up at him, but he doesn't release you. Instead, his fingers card through your hair, stroking lovingly as he continues his embrace. You shake slightly, allowing every emotion taking over your mind to run free. You never thought you'd see, feel him again. All of your greif receeding as you accept the reality that you had only ever dreamed of.

"Y/N I'm... I'm so sorry." He whispers. You cry harder, only wishing he'd keep talking and convincing you this was real. But, you forced yourself to believe it was; the boy you loved, now in front of you once more, holding you, physically touching you-

"Gods, I missed you so much." You retreated from his hold, his hands still braced on your hips as your watery eyes bore into his. Taking him in, you realized he was different. Older. No more was the boy you'd been in love with six years ago; now before you, was a man. A handsome one, nonetheless.

"I... I don't..." you stutter, and a small smile braces his lips as his soft hands brush the few stray tears from your cheeks. "I... I don't know what to say." You admit, and his thumb brushes along your cheekbone.

"Well... at least you're saying something," he says, chuckling softly. The sound is like music to your ears, a sound you hadn't heard in so long. "I was afraid Violet would shread me with one of her daggers when I tried talking to her." You swallow, your gaze drifting to his mouth as he spoke.

"I... I don't say I could blame her," you say softly, your eyes reconnecting with his as shame takes over his expression once more. He sighs, the hands on your waist falling as he takes a step back. You immediately wish he wouldn't have, already hoping to be back in his embrace as soon as you could.

"Look, Y/N, I..." his eyes peer at the wall above you, as he seems to contemplate his words. "I never meant to hurt anyone, alright? I had to do it because-" You step forward, taking his hand in yours. You stare up at him longingly, shaking your head that this was all truly real.

"You can explain it all later," you say, and his mouth closes. You can't help but take in the familiar slant of his nose, his more defined jawline, the golden planes of his skin...

"You can't keep staring at me like that, Aetos." His voice has dropped so low it’s almost gravelly, as his gaze darkens upon glancing toward your mouth. You grin, your deft fingers unlacing his and moving to slide thorugh the mass of curls on his head softly.

"I'm just... I'm really, really happy you're okay." You whisper. His hands slide around you, finding purchase along the small of your back. You suck in a breath as he pulls you against him once more, and you spot the tears pooling along his waterline at your words.

"I thought you'd hate me," he whispers, his breath a gentle caress down the slope of your nose. His perfect lips, ones you'd pined over for years were so, so close. So... real. His chest lets out uneven breaths pushed up against yours, and your nerves threaten to eat you alive as you raise to your tippy toes once more to be eye-level with him.

"I don't think I could ever hate you, Brennan." He smiles, the motion only growing as your eyes search his once more. His perfect teeth are still the same; the sparkle in his eye, the way he chuckles softly. It's as if you're transported back in time.

"I didn't think I could love you more than I did the last day I saw you." A single tear slips, and your quick to catch it with your finger. As you retract your hand, his fingers are quick to curl around yours, holding your hands against his heart. Your brows knit in confusion as you lower your heels, but his grasp on you does not falter.

"You're..." you start. His hand caresses your cheek, guiding you as close to his lips as you could get without touching. Your heartbeat races as his thumb traces soft circles on the back of your hand pressed to his heart. His heartbeat picks up at the closeness, and you can't help but smile. Whether its anxiety, fear, pure love... you've never been quite the expert at sorting out your feelings anyway.

"I'm …what?" He whispers, and you can't stand it any longer. You lean up, pressing a hesitant kiss to his lips. He stills, and you pull back, eyes as wide as his in shock.

"I'm so sorry, I-" He tugs you close again, your mouth colliding with his as he kisses you more forcefully. He keeps kissing you, both of his hands now cupping your face as yours grab onto the unbuttoned collar of his shirt. His lips part, allowing you access at your own pace; but you're quick to oblige, sliding your tongue along his bottom lip. A soft groan escapes his throat, and you inhale through your nose sharply at the sound. He's definitely more grown up than he was six years ago; more confident too. Gone was the shy, 19 year old who’d been deemed “too old” for you back then — now, he didn’t seem to mind the 5 year age gap now that you’d finally turned 20.

You continue indulging, before the strike of the clock from the hallway sounds. He doesn't seem to care as he explores your mouth; hands continuing their exploration, too. As the quiet overtakes the room once more, you finally pull back, gasping for air as he smirks down at you.

"I've waited… so long for that," he says, and your face heats. Little does he know, so have you. “Not coming back to find you, tell you I was alright was so hard, Y/N.” He leans back in for more, but you turn so his lips connect with your cheek instead.

"Oh, nuh uh," you hum. "You've got some explaining to do first before any of..." you motion between the two of you. "...this, continues." He rolls his eyes (glad to know he hasn't changed all that much), and backs up, shoving his hands in his pockets.

"Okay, okay." He says. "I have to be in a meeting, uh..." He glances quickly at his watch. Your eyes track the movement; wishing his delicious fingers were holding you close again. "Uh, now, actually." He laughs sheepishly.

"Better get to it, then." You fold your arms over your chest, tilting your chin up in mock confidence. His hand slides along your jaw one more time, and he gazes down into your eyes.

"Later, we'll talk. I promise," he says. You continue your confident expression as his hand retreats, and he heads for the door, leaving it open behind him. You wait a few seconds before you follow behind him, but freeze as you enter the hallway and are met with a familiar stare you've come to know all too well. Leaning against the wall is your best friend, a smirk so similar to her brothers plastered on her face as she pins you with an accusatory look.

"I told you he'd be in there."

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Part 2

#fourth wing fanfic #fourth wing x reader #fourth wing #fourth wing imagine #fourth wing smut #brennan sorrengail #brennan imagine #brennan sorrengail x reader #brennan sorrengail imagine #xaden riorson #xaden x violet #iron flame #violet sorrengail #dain aetos #bodhi durran #garrick tavis

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eelliotss · 3 months ago

Text

— a whisper of what was

‼️Sylus x reader, angst

“May we forget the cruelest trace of all—the fracture of what could have been.”

word count = 0.7k

a short little thing, from the meme ‘im scared of marriage bc what if its not sylus’ 😔

ps. i should really stop writing and actually start finishing my work

Silver-white patterns weave through the fabric, cascading over your body in effortless elegance. The gown drapes and falls in perfect harmony, each fold a whisper of grace. Light filters through, catching on the soft shimmer of silk and lace, casting a celestial glow against your skin. Scattered petals lie at your feet, a quiet tribute to your presence. A translucent veil, weightless as morning mist, brushes against your cheeks—its delicate florals a veil of mystery, obscuring yet enhancing the beauty curated beneath.

The doors glide open, and you step forward, the soft notes of the piano curling through the air like a whispered promise. Petals drift from above, weightless and slow, settling gently around you, each step marking the path to something irrevocable. The fabric of your gown flows with you, catching the light, luminous in its quiet splendor.

And then, at the end of the path, the world stills. Hands reach forward, careful and deliberate, lifting the delicate veil that has cloaked you in mystery. The air is thick with breathless anticipation as your eyes meet his—steady, searching, warm, and filled to the brim with love and admiration.

Your lips curl up instinctively, a warmth blooming in your chest. The weight of the moment, the nerves that had tightened your breath, all dissolve the instant your eyes meet his. There’s something steady in the way he looks at you—something certain, as if this was always meant to be. The world outside blurs, the soft music and falling petals fading into the background. It’s just him now, standing before you, waiting.

But as you turn to the crowd, to the sea of faces witnessing this moment, your breath catches. Among them, just beyond the soft glow of candles and petals, you meet a gaze you know too well. Crimson. Vivid, piercing, and unmistakably his.

The world shifts. A tremor runs through you as a million fragments of memory surge forward, flooding your mind in an unstoppable tide. Laughter in the dark. Fingers brushing against your wrist. A whispered name. A promise—one you had long since buried. Yet, in this instant, with his eyes locked onto yours, it all comes rushing back.

The air around you feels thinner, the weight of the past pressing against your ribs. But it’s too late now. Isn’t it?

In his eyes, a million words crash into you—unspoken, yet deafening. Pleas, regrets, memories tangled in the crimson depths, unraveling like threads of a past you thought was lost.

In his eyes, you could feel everything. The weight of what was, the ache of what could have been. The fire that never truly died, smoldering beneath the surface, waiting—begging for you to remember.

And you do.

Your fingers twitch at your sides, the warmth of the hand in yours suddenly distant, barely there. The room is filled with music, with blessings, with the weight of a future set in stone. Yet for one fleeting second, as your world collides with his, time stands still.

And your lips curl up once more—a defeated smile, a quiet surrender. Not to the moment, nor to fate, but to the undeniable truth that lingers between you.

Your fingers rise instinctively, drawn to the delicate weight resting against your chest. The cool metal presses into your skin, a talisman of a time long past, yet never truly gone. A silent confession lingers at the edge of your breath, one you’ll never say aloud but know he understands:

Even after all these years, you still ghost my mind.

Even now, as I stand at the altar of a new beginning, I wear the proof of you against my heart.

A silent vow, a relic of what once was—of what will never be again.

But the world is cruel. Love itself, alone, is not enough to promise our destiny, nor to bind two souls beyond the limits of time.

So at the threshold of my new life, may our roads never cross again.

May the pain of our love get buried in the remnants of our memories.

And may we forget the cruelest trace of all—the fracture of what could have been.

And so you break the gaze, and turn to look at the man in front of you. His eyes holding the comfort you seek, though not the depth. Not like his.

Never like his.

But you keep your smile, steady and unwavering. Your fingers finally loosen, slipping away from the gem resting against your chest, as if releasing the past itself.

“I do.”

#lnds #love and deepspace #sylus #lnds sylus #love and deepspace sylus #sylus x reader #sylus x you #reader insert #x reader #sylus qin #sylus x mc #l&ds sylus #lads sylus #angst

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hisfavegirl · 5 months ago

Note

Can you make a scene when aegon is crying in his room after b&c and the reader is his twins?? like angst but also comforting??

Silent Grief - King!Aegon Targaryen x TwinSister!Reader.

Summary : Jaehaerys—your precious boy—was stolen from you too soon. Taken from the world in a brutal twist of fate that left your family fractured, broken in ways you never thought possible. He was a promise of a future, a new beginning after the turmoil that had once gripped your bloodline. But now, that future is gone, lost in the cruel grasp of tragedy.

Aegon Masterlist.

You pause outside the door to your husband’s chambers, the soft murmur of his voice filtering through the crack in the door. It isn’t just the faint sound of a man grieving—it is the raw, broken sobs of a man whose heart has been shattered. Aegon’s cries hit you like a wave, crashing over the walls you’ve spent so long building to protect yourself from the pain. His sorrow is thick with the weight of a loss you both share, a loss that feels impossible to bear.

Jaehaerys. Your son. The child who had brought so much joy into your life, now gone. His laughter, his tiny hands reaching for you, gone in an instant. And now, it is Aegon’s sorrow that fills the room, the pain that has consumed him for days.

You’ve watched him retreat into himself, isolating himself from you, from the world. He has avoided you—his wife, his twin sister. He doesn’t want you to see him like this. He doesn’t want you to witness the vulnerability and despair that have overtaken him, the weight of grief that he can no longer hide.

But you are his wife. You are his twin sister. The bond between you is too strong, too deep for him to shut you out completely. You know him better than anyone. You know that behind the closed doors and the silence, he is breaking.

With a steady breath, you push the door open.

The room is dim, lit only by the flickering light of a candle that seems as fragile as the moment itself. Aegon sits at the edge of the bed, his head in his hands, his shoulders shaking with the force of his grief. You’ve never seen him like this before—not even during the darkest days of their war for the throne. The powerful, often indomitable king, now reduced to a man wracked with sorrow.

He doesn’t look up when you enter. His voice is barely a whisper, lost in the rawness of his emotion.

“Please, don’t… don’t look at me like this,” Aegon’s voice cracks, and his words hang heavy in the air, as if the very act of speaking them causes him more pain. “I couldn’t protect him. I couldn’t save him.”

You feel your heart tighten, the weight of his grief pulling at you. You know this pain all too well—this unbearable ache of loss that consumes you from the inside out. But you refuse to let him suffer alone, even if he tries to push you away.

Slowly, you walk towards him, your presence a silent comfort in the midst of his storm. You sit beside him on the bed, your hands gently resting on his back. He stiffens at first, then gradually relaxes as he feels your touch. Your connection is undeniable, a bond forged from years of shared experiences, of love and loss. You were born together, lived through the chaos of the world together, and now, even in this moment of unbearable grief, you would face it together.

“Aegon,” you whisper, your voice soothing, “I’m here. I’m right here with you. You don’t have to carry this alone.”

He turns to you then, his tear-streaked face contorted with sorrow. His eyes are dark with exhaustion, haunted by the death of their son, and in that moment, he looks so fragile that it nearly breaks you. The strong, proud king you once knew, now just a broken man, clinging to the remains of his shattered heart.

“I couldn’t protect him,” he repeats, his voice barely audible. “I couldn’t save Jaehaerys.”

You take his face in your hands, gently forcing him to meet your gaze. “You didn’t fail him,” you say softly. “There was nothing more you could have done. We both loved him. We both did everything we could, Aegon. But some things… they’re beyond our control.”

The silence that follows feels heavier than any words could express. The weight of the grief, the loss of their son, hangs between you, binding you in shared sorrow. And yet, as you sit there with him, holding him close, you realize that despite the pain, there is still something stronger than it all: your bond. Your love for him.

The sound of Aegon’s sobs pierces through the heavy silence of the room, each cry a reminder of the grief you both carry. The sorrow in his voice is raw, unfiltered, and it cuts through you like a blade. You had lost your son, your beloved Jaehaerys, to a brutal fate, but hearing Aegon, the man you had once looked up to as a rock, crumble before you, makes the ache in your heart swell with a new, unbearable pain.

His cries are not just for Jaehaerys. They are the cries of a father who feels like he failed, a king who couldn’t protect his own flesh and blood. And though you, too, are lost in your own grief, there’s a part of you that can’t help but feel the weight of his sorrow, the burden he’s placed on himself. He has always been your pillar—strong, unyielding. Yet now, in the wake of their son’s brutal death, you see him as you never have before: broken, fragile, and lost.

You want to hold him, comfort him, but you are equally as lost. You, too, are drowning in the loss of your child. Your son, your Jaehaerys, was taken from you in a way so cruel, so violent, it feels like the world itself has torn you apart. You wanted to protect him, to keep him safe in a world that has only ever been ruthless. But it wasn’t enough. Nothing was enough.

Your heart aching, and without a word, you pull him into your arms. His body is trembling with grief, his face hidden in the crook of your neck, and it feels as if your tears have no end. The dam breaks, and you cry, not just for Jaehaerys, but for the man who has always stood beside you. You mourn for him, too. For the Aegon you once knew—so proud, so certain of everything—and now, reduced to a shell of himself, lost in the same pain you feel.

You both weep together, your cries a mirror of each other. You weep for the child stolen from you, for the cruel brutality that claimed him. You weep for the dreams of a future that will never be. You weep for the man you loved, who now is slipping away from you, consumed by guilt and sorrow.

His arms tighten around you, as though trying to hold onto something—anything—to anchor him in this world that has suddenly become too much to bear. Your fingers run through his hair, your hands trembling as you hold him close, wishing that somehow, in this moment, you could ease his suffering. But you can’t. Neither of you can escape the truth of what has happened.

“Jaehaerys,” you whisper, your voice barely audible through the tears. “Our son… he was taken so brutally. So violently.”

The words choke you, the reality of it too much to speak aloud. But you know Aegon hears it, feels it, because he clutches you tighter, as if your embrace is the only thing keeping him tethered to the world.

“He was everything,” Aegon mutters, his voice broken. “He was everything. And I couldn’t protect him. I failed him. I failed you.”

“No,” you say, your voice trembling with the effort to make him understand. “You didn’t fail us. You didn’t fail him. We both did everything we could. The world… the world is just cruel, Aegon. There was nothing we could do to stop it.”

But even as you say the words, you know they don’t bring comfort. Nothing can fix this. Nothing can heal the wound in your heart, nor his. You are both drowning in a grief that feels too heavy to bear, yet somehow, you hold onto each other as if your lives depend on it.

And in the midst of it all, as your bodies shake with sorrow, you both know that, for now, the only thing that can get you through this pain is the shared weight of your loss. Together, you mourn the life stolen from you both, sharing in the quiet understanding that while you have lost your son, you have not lost each other—at least not yet.

The night stretches on, and as the hours pass, the tears begin to subside, leaving behind a quiet, fragile silence. You and Aegon remain locked in each other’s arms, not saying a word, but knowing that the grief will never truly leave. It will live within you both, forever. But in this moment, as you hold him close, you find solace in the shared sorrow, in the unspoken promise that, together, you will face the darkness ahead.

The quiet sorrow in the room is almost suffocating as you and Aegon remain locked in each other’s embrace. Your tears have slowed, but the ache remains—a heavy, unyielding weight that neither of you can escape. In this moment, the world outside seems so distant, so far removed from the grief that binds you both together. It’s just the two of you, sharing in a silence that speaks more than words ever could.

And yet, unbeknownst to you, another presence lingers in the doorway.

Alicent stands there, her figure silhouetted against the dim light of the hallway, watching her children in a way that is both loving and helpless. She stands frozen, unsure of how to act, torn between the instinct to rush to you both and the fear that her comfort will fall flat, that her words will be hollow against the rawness of your pain. She’s always been the Queen, the figure of authority, the protector of the family. But in this moment, all that seems to have failed her. She doesn’t know how to fix what is broken—how to fix you both.

Her heart aches as she watches you and Aegon, the children she has raised, the ones she has tried so hard to hold together. She wants to walk over, to wrap her arms around both of you and tell you everything will be alright. That the pain will fade, and time will heal the wounds. But she knows—deep down—that it isn’t true. Time will not heal this, not this wound, not this loss. The emptiness left by Jaehaerys’s death is something none of you will ever fully escape.

For a long moment, she stands there, unsure whether to enter or retreat. She hesitates, caught between her love for her children and her inability to bridge the growing gap between them. Alicent doesn’t know what to say, or if anything she says will even be heard. She has tried so hard to be the mother you both needed, to mend the fractures that have always been present in your family, but now, more than ever, she feels like a stranger to both of you.

Aegon shifts slightly, his face still buried in your shoulder, and you let out a shaky breath, holding him tighter, as though the very act of holding him could somehow stop the world from crumbling. You don’t notice Alicent’s presence at first. But after a few moments, she realizes that her hesitation has already caused the distance to grow.

With a quiet sigh, Alicent turns away from the door, her footsteps soft as she retreats into the shadows of the hallway. She doesn’t look back, afraid that if she does, it will break something that is already too fragile. The silence between you three is deafening, and though she’s tried for years to hold your family together, in this moment, she feels more distant than ever.

Alicent doesn’t know how to make you feel better. She doesn’t know how to ease the sorrow of losing a child. She doesn’t understand how to fix the bond between her children and herself, a bond that has been fraying for so long, so silently.

As she walks away, her own heart aches, not just for Jaehaerys, but for the two of you—the children she cannot seem to reach, no matter how hard she tries. She doesn’t realize that, in her silence, she has only deepened the divide, pushing you both further away without ever meaning to.

Alicent knows nothing of the quiet, unspoken resentment that has grown in the wake of everything that has happened. She doesn’t understand that, while she watches from the outside, you and Aegon have begun to forge your own bond, one that excludes her. A bond born not from love, but from shared pain and the deep understanding that only you two can truly know the weight of this loss.

And as she disappears down the hall, a quiet, invisible rift stretches between the three of you, one that will not easily be mended.

Tag list : @danytar @julessworldd @hangmanscoming @zaldritzosrose @yazzzmints @giirlinblack

#hotd #hotd imagine #aegon ii targaryen #hotd aemond #aemond targaryen #hotd one shot #prince aegon targaryen #aegon ii fanfic #hotd x reader #aegon x reader

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fushiguruuzzzz · 7 months ago

Text

vii ⊹ ࣪ ˖ Knee Socks

Series mlist

Tags — mentions of violence, I couldn’t be bothered to size down the text

Words— 1.2k

Megumi wasn’t watching you. Of course he wasn’t, he wasn’t some sort of creep. Why would he feel a need to watch you anyway? It wasn’t like you were special. No, he didn’t care what you were doing, he barely even knew you so of course he wouldn’t-

He sighed. His inner monologue was beginning to resemble that of Itadori, it was unlike him. No, he hadn’t been watching you, but he couldn’t deny that when he peered through the open window of his dorm room, he hoped to see you outside. When he caught a glimpse of your [h/c] hair roaming the expanse of the cobblestone that stretched around the residence hall, an odd sort of satisfaction shot through his chest. He’d been meaning to return that bag, anyway. Not that he wanted to speak to you properly or anything.

He put a hoodie on, the polyester blanketing him and shelling him from the dull chill of the approaching winter. Snow had yet to fall, but the orange of the leaves was beginning to diminish, everything turning into darker, less saturated pallet of colours. He much preferred it this way, he blended in more. The black of his sweater did nothing to stick out against the masses. The soft echo of his footsteps as he descended down the stairs was the only sound ringing through his ears, aside from the soft murmur of surrounding conversations.

You were simply taking a stroll, headphones resting over your ears as you wandered the paths and walkways of the campus you’d learned to call home. It had only been a few short weeks since you first stepped foot here, but you seemed more in place here than you ever did, even at home. The gentle thump of shoes against ground grew closer and closer, a wave of something akin to what you felt at that Halloween party washing over you.

A figure fell into step by your side, the midnight blue of his eyes meeting your own. His arm was outstretched, and it took you a moment to look down and see the cherry red grasped in his fingers. Of course, it was your bag! The bag you’d left in his car after chugging enough alcohol with Yuji to kill a grown cow… that was rather embarrassing. You felt your face heat up, a bashful smile tugging at your lips as you let your headphones fall around your neck, and gently took the bag from him.

“Oh, I almost forgot about that. Thanks,” you said, your hand falling to your side with the bag within it. You could feel your shoulders stiffen, your heartbeat quickening as the realization that this was only your second meeting in half a decade dawned on you. You could barely hold his gaze, not that he was doing much better. A hint of a smile ghosted over his lips, but it was gone in an instant.

“I figured,” he responded. It didn’t seem as though he’d changed much. There was still a sort of low gravel to his voice, something distant and gruff, but it was more… docile. There was something oddly soft about the way he spoke that felt almost intimate, reserved for those that held a specific importance in his soul. Truly, he was hardly aware of it. Sure, he kept his tone in check. He wanted to be sure that you knew he wasn’t still some sort of delinquent, someone to not be trusted, to not be kept around. He made that mistake once before, he didn’t intend on letting it happen again.

A tense sort of silence settled over the two of you. You didn’t exactly know what to say, what does one say in this situation? It would be one thing if you’d departed like many friends did, forgetting to exchange numbers or simply falling out of touch. But no. You, the only person he even bothered to trust, socked him in the face with a punch worthy of live TV.

“It was… odd. Seeing you again,” he broke the silence, daring to sneak a glance at you from the corner of his eye. It wasn’t spoken with disdain or disgust, simply a fact being stated. You nodded, a soft breath of laughter tumbling from your mouth. “It was. You sort of caught me off guard.”

He eyed you, quirking a brow. “I caught you off guard? You do realize you were standing with my friends, right?” he said. Though he suddenly realized his tone, his voice growing softer as he continued speaking. Of course he didn’t do it too much, though, it’s still Megumi you were speaking to. You chuckled softly once again, nervously tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Not fair! Yuji invited me over, it’s not like I infiltrated your friend group on purpose,” you rolled your eyes, a smirk playing at your lips. He mirrored you, too rolling his eyes. Still sassy. Great.

“I was a little scared, honestly,” you continued, your cheeks tinting a gentle pink. You hoped he’d excuse it, assume it was the cold weather to blame. His eyebrows twitched upwards, question written all over his face. Then it morphed, understanding and a hint of amusement written all over his face.

“You did make me bleed.”

Your head whipped to the side, arms crossing over your chest. “In my defence, you beat up the guy I was going out with.” He shrugged. He didn’t want you to assume he continued the bad habit of resorting to violence, but he couldn’t act as if it wasn’t justified. “He deserved it,” he said.

This wasn’t a story you’d heard before. He deserved it? Well, maybe you’d have found out, had the circumstances been different. “How so?” you asked, and it was as if the memory (or lack of) rushed back to him. “That guy was an ass. You didn’t know that he and his friends had a bet on how fast he could get you to… uh, be at his mercy is one way to put it,” he grumbled.

What.

You suddenly felt rather stupid. Of course that wasn’t in relation to the boy, a middle school crush, if you could even call him that. It was about Megumi, the way you acted on impulse as a stupid teen when you were oblivious to the fact he had been protecting you. You internally winced, “Oh.”

“Yeah, oh,” he mimicked, shaking his head softly. “Anyway, I’m not like that anymore, so you don’t have to worry,” he shrugged, glancing to the side.

You nodded. Yuji had already said so, but hearing it come from him was oddly reassuring. “I assumed so, both considering you have friends and aren’t behind bars by now,” you smirked, growing less anxious as every moment passed. Things weren’t so tense with him, they never seemed to be. He shot a glare at you, though no real heat lied within his eyes.

“Don’t look at me like that. Remember when you hung Chomei and Okumura from a billboard?” He stayed silent, almost shrinking in on himself as you brought up the memory. He shot you another look, though, a gentle push to shut up.

“Or when you piled up half of our grade and used them like stepstools? Or when you-“

“Alright alright that’s enough I get it.”

Taglist !¡ —

@meowymeowbreow @1l-ynn @missunrise @kiss-my-asscheeks @starrysho @good-mourning0 @gumims @beaniesayshi @mrowwww @luvvmae @megumislovedoll @qingpunk @azharyy @starsryi @tibibibi123

the billboard incident being canon is so funny to me

guys please check ur settings and make sure im able to tag you before asking to be on the taglist :(

group collab when

missing school for the second time this week yikes

ty for the love on the most recent chap :3 but also why do some chapters have 90 likes and the other is barely getting 30????? Are we only reading the fifth chapter guys be honest.

watching Saiki k and Mha rn…. Chat I’m expanding…

#jjk #jjk megumi #megumi fushiguro x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk smau #jjk x reader #megumi fushiguro #megumi x reader #fushiguro megumi #fushiguro x reader

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