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whereireid · 1 year

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ੈ✩‧₊˚ — 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐅𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐇 | 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

series masterlist | avatar masterlist

pairing: tonowari x omatikaya!fem reader

Summary: After mating with Tonowari, you experience a glimpse of domesticated bliss. Grateful that you’ve chosen a doting mate, you bask in your relationship, despite the insecurities that plague you regarding his old mate, Ronal. After you confess this to him, he decides to show you just how over her he truly is.

— warnings: age gap (21/yo reader) mutual pining, plot, family drama time oops, mentions of insecurity, reader doesn't feel worthy of being tonowari's mate, fluff, smut, dead ronal, bathing ! nsfw content (bc this wouldn't be a sex pollen fic if it was sfw 🙄) nipple sucking, brief mention of tonowari having lactation kink, fingering, orgasm denial, oral sex [f recieving] p in v, mating, breeding kink.

There is no longer a fire which blazes within you.

You wonder how there ever even was to begin with. Surrounded by water, your flame should have been snuffed out the minute that it was sparked. The cool breeze of the reef should have blown out the flicker before it began to burn wildly.

The irayo flower — a token of your homeland, beautiful with its lavender purple and tulip pink hues — had a side effect so dangerous that it caused a sickly fever to pulsate through the Metkayina leader. A fever that no medicine could cure. A fever, cooled by only your touch and your touch alone.

Inside of you, there is silence. Despite the fact your face no longer burns with heat whenever you gaze at the Metkayina leader, you still drown in desire and want. Tonowari is sleeping, cocooned by his hammock, a peaceful expression clouding his face as his chest rises and falls slowly, soft breaths leaving his mouth.

You wonder if the sea had claimed you before you had claimed it. You knew your sisters and brothers had no trouble adapting — Lo'ak felt more at home here than he had in the tribunal forests of your homeland, and Kiri felt comfortable and in touch with Ewya wherever she went. Neteyam, the mighty warrior, had adapted quickly to the new hunting rituals, bringing home many pounds of fish, and Tuk had impressively learnt in days how to weave items of clothing by using Metkayina flora.

They'd adapted properly, using their labour to find a way to fit in, and though your family would always be outcasts — with your five fingers a contrast to their four, a constant reminder that you are alien — their labour proved their worth. They were accepted.

Though you're smiling at the thought of your brothers and sisters, your heart tugs — how would they react to the news? When your father had hounded you to find a mate, he surely meant someone more... age-appropriate. Your father certainly did not mean that he wanted you to mate with someone whom he often drank Pongu Lumpia with.

Shaking your head, your fingers close around your robe. It's a maroon red, woven by Tuk with flora she'd found in a cave on the reef. It cocoons you into a shield of warmth, hiding you from the cool ocean breeze which rustles throughout Tonowari's marui. The cold air causes him to stir in his sleep, the coolness a sharp contrast to his heated body.

You watch as he grumbles in discontent, his ears twitching in annoyance, your own flittering upwards in anticipation. "Tonowari," you whisper, edging towards the Metkayina leader, your fingers darting over his thighs when you reach his hammock. "The sun is rising. You must wake soon."

"It has not risen, yet. Come to bed, little one. I miss your warmth."

Tonowari's voice is groggy, ridden with sleep, and you hesitate, your fingers lingering on his strong thighs. "We must tell my parents—"

"—We will tell them later. Join me, for now. We will do whatever you wish when the sun has risen."

You pout in disproval, though you listen. The hammock is comfortable, adapting to your weight as you sink inside of it, and you squeak slightly as Tonowari's strong arms wrap around your frame. "You're so warm, little one," he grunts, his voice rumbling in his chest as he speaks, his nose nuzzling against your own. "It must be because of that robe."

Goosebumps flicker up your skin as Tonowari's hand begin to sneak underneath your garment. His fingers make lewd movements, darting from your abdomen up towards your chest, a shiver ghosting up your spine as his thumb flicks over your nipples, which harden as the cool breeze begins to wash over your frame.

"Would you like for me to take it off?" You moan, and it sounds so sweet that Tonowari's cock throbs with need. Your heart hammers in your chest as his deep blue eyes bore into your own, his finger gently begging to roll your nipple between his fingers.

"I do not want you to get cold, little one," Tonowari mumbles, his breath flittering against your chest as he dips his head, his lips peppering gentle kisses against your skin. "Keep it on."

There's a foreign sensation that crackles through you once Tonowari's lips wrap around one of your nipples. As he gently begins to suck, you gasp, your body jolting towards his as an overbearing feeling of electricity pulses through you. It bites at every nerve, making your body throb with electricity.

"Oh." You mewl, your face growing insatiably hot as Tonowari hums against your nipple, your eyes shutting tightly as he purrs against your skin. "This feels—"

"—Good," he finishes your sentence, pulling away from your breasts, a lewd trail of spit following him. Your gaze flickers down towards him, and you wishes you hadn't even bothered looking, because a moan catches in your throat when you see his swollen lips and lust-filled eyes trailing over your body.

Tonowari's tongue wets his lips, before he dips his head to latch his mouth around your nipple again. It's a strange sensation, to say the least. You've never really explored yourself there before — but now you're really wishing you had.

You squirm under Tonowari's touch, and a moan catches in your throat, but you're unsure of whether or not it actually escapes your lips or dies before it gets to do so. His lips wrap around your sensitive nub, careful as his sharp teeth begin to graze softly against the bundle of nerves, and your hands instinctively fall down to his head, your fingers running over his braids as he laps at your nipple.

Tonowari's tongue skilfully swirls around your nipple, and warmth pools in your lower belly as he begins to grow eager, his hands darting down towards your loincloth. "Please," you beg, though you're not exactly sure what you're begging for. Warmth curls at every nerve inside of you as his fingers disappear under your loincloth, your breath still in your chest as you try to anticipate his next move.

“Breathe, little one,” Tonowari utters, his fingers gently brushing over your slits, the sensation making you melt with warmth.

You nod and try to steady your breathing. Tonowari is still and it's driving you crazy — your hips instinctively buck against his fingers, and a breathy whine escapes your mouth. He shoots you an unimpressed look, and you blush. Once your breathing is even, Tonowari continues. Though the soft flickers of his brows are knitted together and his eyes are somewhat narrowed from your eager bucking, his touch is gentle, his wet, warm mouth wrapped around your nipples, his tongue beginning to flicker again.

Every nerve inside of you is lit, blazing and burning wildly. His fingers gently part your sticky folds, electricity crackling up your spine as he sucks at your sensitive nipples, his eyes lulling shut soothingly.”

"You are going to be even more needy for this once you're carrying our child," Tonowari says, his fingers gliding up and down your slits, satisfied with how wet and needy your cunt is. "Is this your first time being pleasured in such a way?"

"I've never touched myself there before," you admit hoarsely, shivering as Tonowari nibbles at your bud in response, the sensation sending butterflies fluttering through your stomach. "Just my — my, uh—"

"—Just your cunt. I know, little one. I saw everything when we committed Tsaheylu."

Your face blazes with embarrassment, but Tonowari does not falter. You swallow thickly, a whine catching in your throat as Tonowari's fingers press into your cunt, the curling of his digits making you jolt. The unexpected intrusion makes you mewl in appreciation, your hands pressing eagerly against the back of his head, encouraging him to keep sucking.

It's all you want. The sensation feels electric, and it makes you drown in heat. The air in the marui is scorching, making it difficult to breathe, but you focus on the rising and falling of your chest, not wanting him to stop again.

"I forget how new you are to all of this," he chuckles lowly, the sensation vibrating against you, making you mewl. Insecurity tugs at your heart, because you are new to this — but your mate seems so delighted. "You're so reactive. Tell me, little one, do you like this?"

Tonowari bites at your nipple, and you gasp, rutting into his hand like you're in heat. The sensation makes tears bubble in your eyes, because it stings to have your sensitive bud pressed between his two, sharp canines, but you're so wet that it doesn't matter, a sultry twinge shooting through you at the lewd action.

"Yes, I like it," you mumble drunkenly, your eyes blown and dark, your body craving him. His fingers curl inside of you appreciatively, a soft squelch echoing around the mauri, and he grins against your chest.

"Mmm. You're going to love it once you're with child," he states lowly, his fingers slowly working at your cunt, scissoring you open. "If you're this sensitive now..."

He trails off, unable to finish his sentence, and you let out a breathy moan. Between the lewd curling of Tonowari's fingers and the feeling of his hot mouth suckling at your chest, you feel yourself growing blind. Heat flashes through your body, an insatiable warmth pooling in your stomach as your thighs begin to tense, locking his hand in place as he fingers your cunt.

It feels so good. Tonowari devours you; his entire presence sending shocks shooting through your body. It's so deliciously wrong to have the Metkayina leader sending you into oblivion with his sharp teeth and gentle mouth, and you gasp as you squelch and squirm and clench down around his fingers, your moans mortifyingly loud.

"I need to — Tonowari, please, I need to —" you plead, your eyes beginning to grow heavy and your body edging towards numbness as his teeth catch your nipple again, rolling his rough tongue against the bud gently.

"Breathe." He says, tone so sharp that it feels like a knife, your body prickling with heat as your orgasm approaches; hard and fast and heavy, weighing your body down as you begin to tremble and shake against him.

Your eyes are closed so tight that you see stars. Tonowari's fingers curl inside of you as you attempt to take a deep breath, and you wail, the feeling so overwhelming and good that you begin to cry. Your chest is heaving — really heaving, and your lungs burn with the urge to breathe but you just can't, and despite Tonowari's reminder earlier, you’ve forgot.

Your body writhes beneath him. You wriggle, pleading for air because each stroke of his fingers and flicker of his tongue makes it impossible to breathe. You can't even think anymore, so dumb from the hot sparks which shroud your body into what you thought to be unattainable bliss that your nerves grow numb.

"Little one, you need to breathe," Tonowari repeats, but your ears are ringing and you can't hear him because his teeth are rolling over your nipples and he's sucking so good and his fingers are curling inside of your cunt so tortuously. You can't hear anything except for your own blood pumping inside of you and the shameful squelching of your cunt, and you hump against his fingers eagerly.

Just when you're on the brink of cumming, just as you suck in air and begin to shake and convulse, he stops.

You begin to gasp for air, writhing against his chest, your eyes tired and heavy as all of his movements stop. Tonowari pulls away from your chest, his look of disapproval burning through you.

"You forgot to breathe," he says accusatory. Your eyes peek over him, and your breath stills in your chest again. Tonowari's eyes are so blown that his irises are being swallowed, leaving just a thin ring of the aqua-blue around the edge.

"I'm sorry. Felt too good," you mumble breathy, your fingers splayed over Tonowari's head, pushing him eagerly towards your chest. "Please?"

He frowns, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. "I cannot please you if you do not breathe."

"I will breathe, yawne," you utter desperately, beginning to hump at his fingers. "I promise you I will breathe. Please, Tonowari, I need to feel good."

His lips press against your neck. His mouth is warm and wet, and he suckles slightly, a shiver spreading throughout you as he laps at the skin. Tonowari begins to pepper his kisses down towards your chest, leaving gentle bruises in the wake of his lips, and your body instinctively presses against him as his mouth brushes against your nipples.

"You're so good, yawne," you praise, your eyelids growing heavy as his lips reattach to your nipples, hot sparks exploding throughout your body. "So good to me."

You focus on your breathing this time — in, out, in out, in out. Tonowari's fingers curl inside of you again, and it's back to square one. Except, not really. You're so hypersensitive that as his teeth graze against your nipple, teasing and deliberate, you cunt clenches, and Tonowari grunts.

He's so hard that it physically hurts him. The lavender tip of his cock is leaking with pre-cum, but he doesn't even bother to move in an attempt to fist himself free of the shackles of his own desire for an orgasm. Tonowari is so focused on you and what makes you feel good, which just so happens to be anything he does.

You're appreciative of the fact that he's focusing on your pleasure rather than his own. Tonowari explores you, his tongue darting across your skin, goosebumps rising in it's wake, before returning back to your sensitive, swollen nipples.

Your chest feels so tight. Your heart hammers, pounding, and you focus on your breathing, making sure to satisfy Tonowari. You feel his cock, hard and rigid, pressed up against your thighs, as you try to brush against him but it's impossible. You can't move, pinned under his weight, under the feeling of his delicious tongue which swirls skilfully around your nipples and the curling of his fingers.

"I'm going to —"

"Do it."

You whimper, nodding eagerly at his words, dragging your lips between your teeth. It all feels too good, too much, and you begin to convulse. Warmth spreads throughout your abdomen, your cunt growing even slicker as he fingers you, rolling into the spongy spot inside of you with ease.

It feels like a knot is violently unraveling inside of you. Your breathing becomes unsteady, uneven; manic and quick. The knot feels like it's being ripped apart. Snapped and torn and frayed.

You let go of everything. You feel nothing but him. His touch is ecstasy, and you feel divine, holy as you cum.

The rays of the sun blind you as you come undone around him. Twitching, jolting, shaking. You're blazed with pleasure, dumb with need, and Tonowari's ears twitch eagerly, listening to every moan and cry that spews past your lips.

You blink, hazily, your breathing uneven as his fingers pull out of you, his mouth still suckling on your breasts. Tonowari groans, his hands grabbing at your skin, squeezing your hips tightly.

Confusion clouds you as Tonowari’s hips judder against your thighs, a gasp of realisation slipping past your lips as his hard cock pulls away from your plump flesh. He’s came — his own breathing is uneven and steady, and he’s left a painting of sticky cum against your skin. His ears pin tightly against his head, but he doesn’t seem embarassed at all. It’s like this is a totally normal thing for him.

And maybe it is. But it’s not for you. Your eyes are wide in shock, your fingers still as they press against Tonowari’s chest. His face is now inches away from yours, and he has a satisfied, smug grin plastered across his lips.

“Was that good, little one? Did that satisfy you?”

“You came.” You say, bewildered, your hands shaking as they press against his chest, your brows knitted together in confusion. “How — Why did you —“

“Your pleasure is my pleasure, yawne.” Tonowari mumbles, and the term of endearment makes your heart soar. “This is not unusual for me.”

As always, you frown. Tonowari is referring to his previous encounters, with his previous mate. Jealousy pricks at your heart and you can’t help but wonder how you’re going to fill such big shoes. You’re snapped out of your thoughts by the feeling of his fingers pinching you cheek, and you scowl, your tail thrashing behind you.

“You like making me feel good?” You ask timidly, eyes crinkling as the sun blinds you, hiding yourself in Tonowari’s chest.

“It is what I enjoy doing the most. Pleasuring my mate is my greatest pleasure.” Tonowari affirms, shooting you a loving smile before his head turns to the entrance of the mauri, his eyes squinting from the sun. “I wish we could continue, little one, but the sun has risen.”

The sun has risen. You pout, somewhat disappointed that it can’t continue, because your body still feels electric from where he’d been pleasuring you. “It’s time to tell my family about us,” you say breathlessly, and Tonowari grins.

“Yes, it is.”

The walk back to Tonowari's marui is solemn. Whilst your father had disapproved, at least at first, he'd shrunk into himself once you'd told him that you and Tonowari had committed Tsaheylu, now bound together for life. It's somewhat ironic — Jake Sully cannot criticise you for who you'd chosen your mate to be. Your father had not only stolen your mother from Tsu'tey, a mighty warrior of the Omatikaya, he'd also been actively working against your community and your culture when doing so.

Eventually, your father accepted. Although he almost keeled over in the process, he'd accepted.

Tonowari didn't celebrate the way you thought he would. He just nodded his head and thanked your father for approving, and then turned heel and left.

And you'd followed him.

That's how you've ended up here.

The floor is almost scorching, and you shuffle forwards in discontent. Despite living in Awa'atlu for a few months, you still haven’t quite gotten used to the insatiable heat. You feel sweaty, uncomfortable, and your heart tugs as your mate pulls you towards his marui, your eyes flickering over towards him.

He hadn't even celebrated. Maybe it was because he knew your parents couldn't exactly deny you of him — Ewya had approved of your bond, and he is also Olo'eyktan. This is his clan, and you are his mate.

But... maybe that wasn't the case. And you don't want to think this way, you truly don't, but a little voice is in the back of your head is telling you that he didn't celebrate because he'd been through all of this before. Tonowari, perhaps, didn't celebrate because he had no need to — he'd been mated before, with Ronal, and he'd probably went with her to tell her parents, also. And he'd probably celebrated then, because she was the love of his life and she was supposed to be his mate forever.

You grimace, pushing your doubtful thinking away. You know of Ronal. She was a strict Tshaìk, yet a loving mother. A fierce leader. Her connection with Ewya was strong, and your heart pulls in your chest as Tonowari's fingers intertwine with yours.

There's an ounce of comfort in the small gesture. Safety. Your ears pin backwards and you look away, your eyes fleeting over every grain of sand as an excuse to not look at him.

The reef is booming with life. Children run, and parents chase them. Nobody even looks your way — Tonowari had promised you that they wouldn't. Until your bond is announced, nobody would think that you were both seeing each other, rather just assuming that he was just guiding you somewhere.

When you see the familiar, curvy triangular shape of the marui, your ears prick upwards. You try to stop at the entrance, needy for rest, but Tonowari's strides don't falter, until your hands slip from one another's grasp.

"Why have you stopped, little one?” Tonowari asks, his voice gentle as he eyes you suspiciously.

You hesitate under his pointed gaze, shuffling on your feet. "I thought we were going back home."

"I have something I want to show you," he utters, offering out his hand. "Come on, little one.”

"Where are we going?”

"I will show you. Come on."

You pause, eyes flickering from the marui to your mate, before you begrudgingly accepting his hand. Despite the two of you both being Na'vi, the size difference is overwhelming — Tonowari towers over you by a couple of feet, and his hand is so big that it sheathes the both of yours.

Minutes pass, and there is only silence. There is no conversation shared between the two of you. Tonowari holds your hand proudly, guiding you towards the rocky reefs. The slippery surface of the rocks makes your heart patter in your chest fearfully — you still hadn't quite gotten used to the feeling of slimy seaweed on your feet, and your hesitant steps are proof of that.

"You have not yet adapted," Tonowari chuckles, his grip on you strong as he guides you between two rocks, that stand tall and mighty.

"It's not that easy." You mumble, shivering as cold washes over you as the rocks begin to hide the sun.

He smiles. "You will learn soon, little one."

As your eyes adjust to the loss of sunlight, you can't help the awe that tugs at your heartstrings as you realise where Tonowari has taken you.

In your homeland, there was no such thing as a private, docile place to clean. All of the Omatikaya, including the Olo'eyktan and Tsahìk, used a communal lake to bathe. Although the clan leaders were allowed to bathe alone, the others bathed together. There was just simply not enough water in the forest for the Olo'eyktan and Tsahìk to have a personal, intimate area to clean and bathe together.

But here — in the reefs — there is nothing but water.

"What is this?" you whisper, your skin crawling with goosebumps as Tonowari presses his lips to your forehead gently.

"What do you think?" Tonowari quips back, watching as your nose crinkles as you breathe in the husky, earthy smell, your eyes scanning over the deep, pear-shaped entrance of the shelter.

There's something so intimate about how Tonowari guides you. His hands are resting on your shoulders, eagerly pushing you towards into the cave, your eyes falling on the downwards curve of the floor, which transcends into a pool of milky, steaming water.

"Is this yours?"

Your mate smiles, his nose nuzzling into your neck, his fingers slipping down towards your loincloth, gently beginning to untie its knot. "It is ours," he states, his face illuminated only by the blue and green bioluminescence moss which laps at the sides of the pool. "I heard from your father that in your homeland, the Olo'eyktan and Tsahìk did not have their own private bathing quarters."

"When did you hear that?"

"JakeSully loves to complain when he's intoxicated. Pongu Lumpia makes him even more insufferable than usual," Tonowari grunts, smiling as your loincloth drops to the floor, leaving you bare in front of him. "He feels that as Toruk Makto he is worthy of privacy."

Tonowari's freckles are glowing in the dim light of the cave. “I say that he gave up the title of a mighty warrior when he fled his home.”

You try not to giggle, but it’s really, really hard. Tonowari has always been critical of your father, and his small joke actually allows you to bask in a sense of comfort.

Warmth cocoons you as he ushers you into the pool of milky water, watching as you submerge yourself. The silky hot water is perfect, and your face flushes with a light sheen of sweat and embarrassment as your mate begins to undress himself.

He stands so proud as he shows himself to you. You feel warm and gooey as he traipses into the water, and you try to focus on anything but him. There’s a slight lingering feeling of dread which pulses through you, ruining the slightly intimate moment, because you know deep down that Tonowari had shown Ronal this exact cave before.

The cool, fluorescent algae illuminates the cave, and there's a low, bioluminescence glow shining from beneath the milky substance in the water. It's beautiful in the cave, and pieces of moss glow like stars above you.

Your heart tugs in your chest as Tonowari's hands wrap around your waist, pulling you closer towards him in the water. "What is on your mind, little one?" He asks, pressing a soft kiss to your wet temple, his lashes long and damp, soaked from the water. "You have been quiet ever since we left JakeSully’s marui."

The blissful solitude shrouds you, and you let your head hang on his chest, which has a shines turquoise from the water. "Nothing. I'm fine, Tonowari," you mumble, shooting him a gentle smile as he embraces you, his braids sticking to the wet skin of his back.

"You do not seem fine," he grumbles, careful as he picks up some circular moss which resided on the rocks. He squeezes the soft green plush, gentle as he begins to excrement soap from it, rolling it between his fingers. As soapy duds begin to form, he hums, rolling the moss against your skin, using gentle circular motions when he washes you. "Do you wish to tell me what is bothering you, little one?"

Tonowari's interaction with your father keeps replaying inside your head. Everytime it repeats, your heart pulls, cracks in half, and you can't tell if you're being dramatic or emotional or what. Tonowari hadn't reacted, he hadn't celebrated, he hadn't even smiled when he got your father's approval.

Because he'd been through it all before. With Ronal.

As he's washing you, soft in his motions as he rolls the soapy moss against your skin, all you can think about is how he's done this before with someone else. It plagues you. It's like a sickness.

"Yawne, I cannot help if you do not say anything," he says softly, beginning to cup the milky water in his hands, his ears twitching as the water trickles your skin.

“How are you over her?”

“Over who?”

“Ronal.”

Tonowari pauses for a brief second, before continuing to wash the duds off of your skin. Your voices echo around you, bouncing off of the cave walls, and your face flushes when his hands gently begin to massage your shoulders.

“She died a long time ago, little one. I cannot live in solitude and mourn any longer. She is with Ewya now.”

“But you’re supposed to mate for life. You’re — you’re still here. She’s still your mate.”

Tonowari frowns, his motions gentle and circular, his thumbs riding down to your back, focusing on a tight knot between your shoulder blades. “You are my mate.”

The silky hot water mixed with Tonowari’s fluid motions is an incredible soother. You feel like all of your tension is melting away, and despite the self-doubt and insecurity which flitters throughout you, you find yourself relaxing.

“But so is she.” You’re exasperated, confused.

You knew Tonowari had been mated before. You knew all of this before you chose him.

So why now, when you’re in too deep, are you having second thoughts?

“You are my mate.” Tonowari’s voice is soft, fleeting against your ear. “Do you need me to remind you of just how badly I want you, little one?” His breath fans against your skin, sending goosebumps down your spine and your stomach flips at his words.

You shake your head, a gentle gasp slipping past your lips as Tonowari turns you, his grip on your shoulders harsh as he does so. His palm squeezes your skin uncomfortably, and your breath hitches in your throat as his eyes bore into yours, so black and blown that the ring of ocean blue is barely visible.

“No, Tonowari. I don’t need a reminder.” Your voice is hoarse as you speak, wavering slightly as Tonowari’s nose nuzzles against your shoulder. “I know I’m your mate.”

“I do not think that you’re aware of how badly I’ve wanted you, little one.” His fingers dance against your skin, and his arms become submerged by the hot, silky water. Tonowari's hands cup your thighs, his body ushering you to the edge of the pool, and you squeak as you feel mossy rocks press against your back. "Ever since you came to the reef, I have not been able to keep my eyes off of you, and the second you gave me that irayo flower... it was the greatest excuse to get close to you."

"Excuse?" you murmur, breathless as his strong arms sit you against the rocks, his nose rubbing against your inner thighs. "What do you mean, excuse?"

Tonowari's teeth graze against your skin and you whine, your heart pitter-patting in your chest as his rough tongue laps at your skin, leaving dark-coloured bruises in its wake. “It hurt, yawne, more than you’d ever know. And like I told you — I was rutting like a newly mated Na’vi, and the only relief I got was when I would see you, and that is when I knew you were sent to me. From Ewya.”

“Oh,” you breathe, your heart tightening in your chest as Tonowari’s lips press against your cunt. His tongue laps at you eagerly, the rough muscle parting your slits, and a gentle whine slips past your mouth as he does so. Hot, electric sparks shoot up your skin, and your legs jolt slightly as his tongue swirls gently around your clit. “Tonowari.”

“You wonder why I chose you,” he purrs against your cunt, the vibration sending shockwaves through your pussy. “I wonder how you could ever choose me.”

The intimacy of Tonowari between your legs makes your stomach clench. Despite being recently mated, he hasn’t had an incredibly high libido — you haven’t snuck off to rut at every possible chance, rather having an even and steady sex life. But this — the way he’s nuzzling against your cunt, licking and lapping and sucking at the heat sloppily shows something different a

A primal side to him you haven’t seen before.

He's grunting, and you look down for a second, confused as to why he’s making noses. Then you notice his hand, which strokes up and down his cock in a steady motion. Tonowari is pleasuring himself whilst pleasuring you, and you moan, so conflicted to how a man can make you feel so horny.

Tonowari's tongue draws patterns on your clit, and his breathing becomes heavy as he strokes his cock, his eyes lulling as he laps at your cunt. He's so eager to please, kissing your heat softly, listening to every mewl and whine, and your stomach begins to twist, growing insatiable with every roll of his tongue.

And then you feel it — the knot inside of you begins to break, twist apart, fray at the hem. It's so peaceful this time, so satisfactory, and your moans bounce off of the cave walls as you cum, your hands behind Tonowari's head, pushing his face into your cunt needily. You hump against him like you're in heat, the feeling of his rough tongue stroking you through your orgasm making you shake.

"I must show you how much you mean to me, yawne," he comments, his voice shaking slightly as he strokes his uncomfortably hard cock with need. "Can I breed you?"

"Breed me?" You ask, exasperation lacing your tone as Tonowari joins you on the rocks, his strong hands pinning you underneath his body.

"That is what I asked, is it not?" He utters, his body sheathing your view of the bioluminescent moss which litters the top of the cave, shrouding your vision with black. The only light you have comes from the light-blue specks on his face, and a breathy moan leaves your mouth as Tonowari's cock glides through your slits, an unexpected jolt of electricity shooting up your spine.

"I'm just confused as to why you asked. We've done this before."

"I want you to carry my child, little one," he grumbles, a low groan sliding past his plush, sapphire lips as his tip rolls against your clit. "This is not just making the bond. I will be doing this with the intention of you growing plump with life."

You literally can't imagine anything hotter than being swollen and filled with Tonowari's children. You can't speak, the feeling of his tip rolling against your clit sending electric sparks fluttering through your nervous system. "Please," you squeak out, your heart burning with desire as his girthy tip presses against your entrance, your tight cunt beginning to sheathe his lavender tip.

"You are going to look so beautiful when I'm finished with you," Tonowari hisses, his stomach tight as his hips begin to roll into you, even and steady. "So beautiful, carrying our children, whilst practicing to become Tshaìk. I chose well."

Everything feels raw and sensitive. Your cunt clenches down around him, your senses somehow heightened in the dampness of the cave. Steam from the hot pool of milky water begins to evaporate, your skin covered with an aqua blue sheen from the condensation. Pressure pools in your lower belly, your ears twitching with every roll of his hips, your cunt tight when the tip of his cock brushes deliciously against the sensitive spot inside of your cunt.

It feels so liberating, knowing that he wants you. Truly wants you. You're not just a replacement — each needy thrust of his hips tell you that. Tonowari's fingers desperately grab at your queue, and you whine at the uncomfortably tug, but hot white flashes spark through your nerves system when his tendrils connect with yours.

Holy shit. This feels so much better than when he first ever bonded with you, and your legs shake as he stretches you thin. It's so painful but so amazing. His cock is nestled deep inside of your cunt, and you're so slick, so wet, droplets forming on your skin from where the reside of the water is beginning to dry. Tonowari's movements are smooth, easy, and your white ring of arousal paints the bottom of his length, coating his balls, and he groans as he fucks into you, his lavender tip throbbing as you clench around him tighter.

"You're made for me," he breathes out, "I cannot believe you ever doubted my love for you."

Through your connection, you can feel his pain. You can feel everything — the pull of his heart as he thinks about how insecure you'd been, and you scold yourself for ever being so silly. Tonowari, your gorgeous, loving mate intertwines his fingers with yours, and you swear you've never felt so good in your life.

You're intertwined with Tonowari in every way possible. Your cunt pulses around him, throbbing with need, and he groans into your neck, nuzzling his nose into the crook of your shoulder. "Oel ngati kameie," he mumbles, his eyes boring into yours, the black of his pupils so wide and blown you can no longer see any part of his irises. "Yawne, please, talk to me."

"Feels good, Tonowari," you blink, chest heaving as he fucks into you, being careful to focus on your breaths as your body begins to tingle with lust. "Almost ready for you to fill me up."

"Pxasìk," Tonowari curses, his accent thick, drawling in your ear and sending goosebumps exploding on your skin. "I'm ready. You're so — so tight, I can't hold back."

"Earlier all you did was hold back," you tease, moaning as the lewd squelching sounds of your cunt echo around the mossy cave. "Not — not letting me finish because I didn't breathe."

Tonowari is gentle as he slaps your thigh, warningly, a dangerous look painting his face, but it crinkles into something different as you purposefully clench down around him. You're so tight that it's like you're milking him, and you're so wet and warm, it's driving him crazy. "You were being naughty, yawne," he comments, his voice wavering as your eyes begin to flicker shut, your moans hitching in your throat as his hips roll into your sensitive bundle of nerves.

It's the most perfect thing you've ever felt. Neither of you speak as it happens, your orgasm crashing over the both of you in a perfect, delicious wave. You shake, jolt against him, cry out as your vision blackens with white stars, heat exploding through your body, your cunt tightening around him as you feel his seed begin to spurt inside of you. his own cum in you, your walls so tight and wet, the sound of his balls slapping lewdly against your cunt echoing throughout the cave, your moans merging with them to create an orgasmic mixtape.

You're so warm, the steam from the pool mixing with your insatiable heat from being crowded by Tonowari for so long, and he embraces you proudly as you twitch beneath him, your cunt feeling raw and full. He holds you, and his strong presence makes you feel so safe, the feeling of his cum painting your walls making you shiver.

"You are everything to me," he utters, his teeth grazing your neck as his tongue laps at your skin, basking in the slight, salty taste of sea water and sweat. "Please do not doubt that again."

"How can I?" you whisper, grumbling as Tonowari rolls over, positioning you atop of his chest as he lays on the mossy rocks. The blue and green glow from the algae and moss reflect on his face, painting his features, and you smile as you lean down to brush your nose against his, your finger splaying over your belly. "I'm going to have a constant reminder."

taglist: taglist: @moonpie3000 @theycallmesia @lianawolf @love-chx @yataisha @misscaller06 @plzfeedmebread @totesnothere04 @alezarin @thesecretsoftheuniverse @ikranwings @clockmax @lianawolf

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sincerelyverena · 3 months

Note

the oliver fic section of tumblr is SOOOOO dry rn so I'm wondering if you could write about how you've been friends with ollie since oxford and got invited to stay the summer with felix. then while playing spin the bottle you and him have something? IDK IM JUST RAMBLING BUT YEAH

i enjoyed writing this so so so much. i diiiid take this in a way different direction than i anticipated, but i hope you enjoy this nevertheless. thank u dearly for ur rambles! mwah! 🤍

⟡⁺ SEVEN MINUTES IN HELL

. . . OLIVER QUICK X FEM!READER ‘testosterone boys and harlequin girls.’ @ajs-222 @michael-loves-chickens @surazim @soocore @fedyascoffin

inbox is always open to requests!

in whichꕀ

✦ ﹒hate has no bounds. except when you're stuck in a wardrobe with oliver quick.

tagsꕀ

✦ ﹒implied sex ﹐fade to black smut ﹐enemies with benefits ﹐dom!oliver ﹐spoiled!reader ﹐reader would’ve probs bullied you in high school ﹐oliverrr you little stalkerrr ﹐felix and reader have a sister-brother connection ﹐ oliver brat tamer arc ﹐farleigh has naturally sharpened canines beware ﹐reader is a homie hopper ﹐YES OLIVERR USE YOUR HANDS ﹐DRUNK N HORNY, DRUNK N HORNYYY ﹐smack my ass like the drum slurp the dick til it cum ﹐forced proximity ﹐degradation ﹐phat exposition beware ﹐the plot is absolutely plotting ﹐implied incest between minor characters

THANK YOU TO MY WONDERFUL BETA READERS: @sparklehani ﹐@vikwrites

You pushed the frame of your sunglasses upward with the pad of your thumb. The accessory nestled into the top of your hair, positioning yourself to soak up the grandeur of old money that ascended far beyond where the naked eye could see.

Saltburn. A spectacle passed down by word of mouth.

The double ebony archways are considered to be a set of doors shifted in position. Presented to you, the skyscraper-remnant entrance is extended with a gradual creak of effort. Revealing the beauty of the estate’s foyer in the process.

“Miss Esmeray.”

You were too absorbed in the elegance etched into every breath that was drawn in the manor alone to notice the suited male positioned behind the doorways. Declan, was it? You weren’t too opposed to not giving a singular shit about the name of a mere, working butler.

To outsiders, those morals would’ve been doubted in the fashion in which you approached the estate’s employee.

You inclined forward. The painted maroon of your lips puckered as you scattered lightweight kisses upon either side of the loose, wrinkled surface of the butler’s cheeks. “It’s a pleasure to meet you at last, Declan.”

He didn’t seem particularly phased – on the surface at least – apart from the cool hardening of his formerly strained eyes.

“It’s Duncan.”

You stifled the urge to laugh.

“That’s what I said, wasn’t it?” You leaned backward with a hushed hue of voice and a poised frown. A frown that didn’t last long as you slipped by with an isolated thrum of your heels along the blemishless, maintained floors.

The porters that had withheld your luggage followed suit, grasping the attention of Duncan. He continued to clasp his hands behind his back, surveying the situation with a stare that would put a hawk to shame.

“Leave the luggage there. The estate butlers will see to it.” The note of exasperation that tainted Duncan’s articulation caused your personal porters to arrange the stacks of luggage onto the flooring without missing a beat.

The bound of employees hit the open doorways, leaving you to bask in a well-deserved solitude. Or so you had thought.

The hue of your flickery eyes had fixated immensely upon the silhouette which overlooked the foyer. An individual that leaned along the fencing of the plank-relied stairway, slinked in the comfort of the shadows. Even in the limelight of darkness, you could scrutinize the sight of a chiseled jaw and the irises of dusked aquamarine.

Oliver Quick. Bile slicked the crevices of your throat. That slimy, freakish companion of one of your closest friends from Oxford. The sole reason you were invited to the estate in the first place.

And that sole reason broke out into the foyer before you could’ve mustered a word.

“[Y/N]!”

Felix Catton. Gorgeous, radiant Felix Catton came bounding toward you. Arms sprawled wide open, and a grin of nothing more but graciousness broke across his lips. Devoid of awaiting a response, Felix tossed the base of his arms around your shoulders. The toned muscle propped behind the sleight of your neck, burying himself into you in the process.

“Hi, Fi.” You mumbled around the top of his broadened shoulder, basking in the familiarity of his scent and aura. The tension that had made itself known in the base of your abdomen uncoiled, just the slightest.

You had inclined backward momentarily. The palms of your hands propped themselves upon the sleight of Felix’s jaw. You surveyed Felix closely and blew out a sharp breath. “Felix, you’re looking thinner. What have they been feeding you here?”

“The summer fucks up my appetite, you know that,” Felix grumbled pointedly.

“That’s not an excuse, Fi.” Your forefinger pinched the practically non-existent fat lining his cheeks, reeling a small grimace from the male.

The dense thrums of rhythmic footsteps spliced unnervingly through the moment. You tore the unyielding hue of your stare from Felix toward Oliver, who positioned himself solidly against the foot of the stairway.

“Ollie!” Felix unraveled his arms away from you, in turn, to acknowledge his self-titled best friend. The male was peacefully oblivious to the glowering irritation that etched itself into your gaze. “You remember [Y/N], yeah?”

“How could I forget?” Oliver quipped the mere intensity of his gaze maintained upon you. You felt as if he was staring right through you, aware of every crook, crevice, and secret of your being. Deep speckles of disgust were blanketed behind hues of feigned interest.

As the moment drew on, he extended a hand. You harshly glared into it. Whilst the remainder of the inner circle Felix had established in Oxford grew to warm up to Oliver’s meek, somewhat awkward presence. You loathed it.

“Mum has been dying to see you all day, [Y/N].” The strained hues of Felix’s voice tore into the steadily growing silence. His lips curved upward into a thin smile. Felix could virtually feel the tension tighten between his two companions.

“She’s in the morning room.”

You pecked him on the cheek on your way out. “Thanks, Fi.”

Felix’s words of prominence held a generous truth. Lady Elspeth Catton pushed the teacup amid her hands aside the second her eyes had met the radiance of your presence. You mustered a small smile at the sight of the woman you had known for the year prior.

“Oh, darling. It’s been too long.”

The all-too-familiar scent of high-end designer perfumes assaulted your nostrils as Elspeth brought you into a momentarily embrace. You had come to terms with the preceding summer that she had grown to be more of a maternal figure than your mother ever would be. Even if you were inclined to remove your nose ring and settled for a less dramatic false lash to soothe her fear of what she deemed to be ugly.

In those logistics, you had no idea why she hadn’t thrown Oliver out the second she met his acquaintance.

“Come, come, come. Sit down, I’ll whisk up some tea for you…”

“Hot chocolate.” You had a hard time grappling with the concept of politeness.

“Oh, of course! How would I forget?”

As Elspeth handled the hot chocolate-bearing teapot, you were prompted to discuss the prior school year. Conversations flowed from academics to the selection of boys and girls alike who had the misfortune of encountering your diva-like logistics.

Elspeth indulged in her tea. “Did Felix mention the festivities we’re having tonight?”

You propped a spoonful of whipped cream atop the chocolate goodness, a frown painting your lips. “Not at all. What festivities?”

“One of the annual dinners with the Catton’s family friends is proceeding tonight,” Elspeth explained, tone somewhat bored with the lack of any mentions of gossip present in this crevice of the conversation. The flimsy painted surface of her nail tapped away at her teacup.

“Please tell me it's the Lockwoods.”

“Who else would it be, darling?”

“Thank Christ.”

As Elspeth continued to chatter onward about the newest scandal she observed with the Lockwoods, you pertained to drifting off in thought. Concerning the night ahead. And the dread that followed with the idea of socialization with a bunch of stuck-up acquaintances alike yourself.

And Oliver Quick.

You rolled the base of your fingers around the rounded cigarette Felix had outstretched. Flimsy smoke curled outward from the plumpness of his lips, drifting upward toward the coiling stairs above your heads.

You circulated your lips around the rim of the drug stick, angling your hand backward as you took a hit – brimming with a buzz of pleasure. The cigarette slipped back into Felix’s hand, which inclined away to pass it toward Oliver. Whom you hadn’t even bothered to glance toward once during the entirety of the night.

The remains of the others flocked behind, the light hue of conversation prominent in the air. The three others you’ve befriended – Wiona, Lincoln, and Valencia – had befriended the Catton children in their younger years. At the annual dinner that commenced the year prior, you discovered that they had developed an annual tradition for Spin the Bottle.

The sole reason why the group of eight traversed up the spiraling stairway in the first place, bottles of alcohol propped in hand.

A prominent part of you wordlessly hoped that the alcohol would loosen you up a tad. Alas, with the sensation of Oliver’s eyes bored into the back of your head. You were bound to feel a tad paranoid. Especially when you weren’t oblivious to how every movement you made was tracked.

The minuscule smirk when the base of your nail had chipped. The glimmer of distaste when you looked up and down the outfits of the current houseguests. The burn of eyes when you laughed a tad too loudly. The indescribable emotion that blared throughout Oliver’s surveying gaze as you stared into him. An attempt of intimidation that was never accomplished.

The solid front of the bathroom’s tiles was undeniably cool, in contrast to the thin garment that shielded the top of your thighs.

You proceeded to tuck yourself across the minuscule opening between Farleigh and a most currently amused Felix. The glass-spun bottle of the night lay vulnerable in the grip of his broadened fingers.

“Care to make a bet on this year’s game?”

A short laugh stirred itself from the crevice of your throat. You inclined your head over the brink of your shoulder, scrutinizing gaze propped upon the curly-haired male sat inches away. Farleigh’s eyes crinkled with the intensity of his curved lips, tongue tracing the rim of his canines.

You suddenly grew aware of the sheer amount of certain plastic bags you had smuggled down your bra upon arrival. Ziplock bundles of goodness Farleigh would surely die for. A sentiment visible from the mere spark of interest blanketed behind his eyes.

“You seriously think I’ll say no to a good gamble?”

With a tinge of casualty, Farleigh swung a singular arm over the bridge of your shoulders. His voice grew hushed, but the intention of his words burnt into the crevice of your ear. “One of those pretty bags of yours if it lands on Valencia and Lincoln.”

“They’re siblings, munchkin.” The force of your articulation twisted with a prominent combination of distaste and fluid judgment.

“So what?”

For someone who always had something to say, you hadn’t been rendered this speechless in a long, long time. Alas, Farleigh wasn’t the only soul that expressed his amusement with the fact.

Oliver stared right into you. Twisted amusement circulated within his gaze.

Felix proceeded to illustrate a spectacle of himself, the glass-rimmed bottle set down on the tiled ground before him. Dramatics and flairs. Nothing out of the ordinary for your beloved Fi, who expressed the rules and regulations of the game as if his company hadn’t played for the years prior.

This excluded a scrutinizing Oliver. A prominent smirk threatened to overcome your lips at the sight of his cockiness. His prior attitude slipped away at the news of having to potentially be stuffed in one of the Catton’s family closets for several minutes – with his luck – accompanied by a total stranger.

You, on the other hand, couldn’t wait to begin.

Felix offered a riveting motion with his hand. The echo of uproar, paired with the creak of the bottle against the tiles bounced off of the thinly-veiled walls as he gave it a fluid spin.

The uproar crescendoed into a screeching halt as the pitcher shook into a steadied pace. Its glimmering tip angled precisely toward a noriette-haired girl, who was in the midst of pertaining her slight nose toward the strip of snow-white goodness laid out on the back of her hand.

“Wiona!”

“You better hope and pray, darling.”

“Leave your drink with me, Wynn!”

Felix stuffled the broadened nature of his fingers into his mouth. He offered a low whistle toward Wiona, whose smirk was shielded by her bob-length curls.

He inclined toward the glass-rimmed bottle once more. “Right, whose the lucky boy… or girl? We don’ discriminate here…”

Murmurs of agreement followed the winding silence of the spinning contraption. Accompanied by short-circuited laughs, and gambled musterings. Overtaken by shrill yells as the crown cork inclined precisely toward Farleigh, whose curves were still draped over you.

“Leigh, that’s you.” Felix had confirmed, to the delight of those inclined around the circle. His eyes crinkled, appropriate to the intensity of the sparkling grin that graced his otherworldly face. “The blue room awaits you lovebirds…”

The jangling of cash and the slip of dope occurred.

The game continued as such. And with gradual time, all participants grew intoxicated by the minute with the presence of booze and crack. Two of your tit-coke bags have been ripped out of your disposal with the force of the circle’s gambles, gaining triple the amount in the process. Especially when Lincoln and Valencia slipped into the next room.

You found yourself with the curve of your head lolling atop the pad of Felix’s shoulder. An endearing warmth buzzed throughout you, rooted in the alcohol burning the crevice of your throat.

One of Felix’s broadened palms settled upon the hitch of your scalp. The other claws at the scarcely dented bottle once more, sending it into a tile-searing spin.

Commotion peaked within the room as the pitcher sloped toward Oliver.

Shadowiness engulfed your vision as the wardrobe doors closed in. Bathing in the darkness of mere loathing for two factors in this twisted, twisted equation. For the bottle. And for Oliver Quick, who had never been closer to you than in this moment. Bile rose in your throat for the second time that day.

It was just your luck that the bottle inclined towards you at that moment.

“That’s ironic.”

A slither of outside illumination managed to crack into the wardrobe, lining the crevice of Oliver’s azure hues. Speckled with what was perceived as faint amusement, tightening the knot of tension present in the atmosphere.

The sleight of your back strained as you stumbled toward the clanky side of the closet, desperate to discover an escape. To no avail. The faint ghost of a scoff reverberated from the hollow of your throat. “What’s ironic, huh?”

For some reason. For whatever reason at all, Oliver inclined toward you. The slightest indeed, but it managed to send your heart hammering between your ears. Nothing more but pure loathing pulsated throughout you with the sudden proximity. It was the alcohol. Booze does funny things to the mind, right?

Olivcr’s alcohol-tinged breath mists upon your lips. His words slurred somewhat. “For som’one that gets everythin’ she wants, you seem pretty… helpless right now.” “Anyone that finds themself in a closet with you would be.”

“I’m jus’ sayin', it’s pretty pathetic.”

A gradual grin seeped onto Oliver’s face at the undeniable loathing that flared within the depths of your eyes. You looked as if you were a tick away from murdering him with your bare hands, and it brought him nothing but pure amusement.

“Pathetic…” The word dripped off of your lips with slow, taunting articulation. A twisted of taunted tipsiness. With the fiery force of each syllable, you leaned forward and clasped a sloppy hand toward the center of Oliver’s chest, an attempt to shove him further away.

“Pathetic?”

You had made your intentions very clear to extend the distance between you and the male. To your luck, you had found yourself even closer.

Oliver didn’t appear phased, gaze carving holes into you. “You think the complete world of yourself, I’d say that’s pretty pathetic.”

Your stare narrowed down further. Silence draped over you momentarily with the intention of cold-shouldering Oliver until the seven minutes eventually ticked by. You adverted your eyes, purposefully scrutinizing the slight gap between the worn closet doors. The illumination blurred amid your intoxication.

“Look at me.”

A roughened palm tore you back toward reality. Accompanied by a thread of fingers that pressed into the curve of your cheeks. Your once inclined head had surrendered into Oliver’s grasp, involuntarily meeting his gaze.

“Whoa… he’s finally thinkin’ for himself for once.” You spat out around the mere brute of his hands. Even though they radiated a certain chill only Oliver could possess, a prominent warmth glowed in every patch of skin he had clutched onto.

“Instead of bein’ Fi’s little hound…”

Oliver’s grappling hand seemed to tense with every batter of your words. “Shut your bloody mouth before I do it for you.”

“Wooow… so scary–”

You barely possessed the will to blow out another sharp breath before Oliver’s lips were interlocked with your own. The breath you had been holding hitched upright into your throat. Your chest constricted. In replacement of the disgust you preempted, velvety warmth pulsated throughout your entire being with a singular brush of the male’s mouth along yours.

With the fashion in which Oliver devoured your lips, you wondered if he wished to eat you alive.

You blamed it completely on the booze and the crack.

He was the first to pull back from the embrace, hands still tucked immensely around your jaw. A glow of succession is prominent in Oliver’s aquamarine stare, a glow that brought forth a sleight of irritation to overcome you.

“I believe you liked that.”

“Your ego is as big as your head, Oliver.”

He inclined his head, a smile wandering upon his lips. “That wasn’t a denial, now.”

The palm that cradled the sleight of your jaw loosened the slightest. It moved toward the back of your neck, utilizing the position to guide you toward him further. His lips. So close. Nearing with time. The curve of your abdomen burned with a newfound desire, christening your inner walls with its molten warm goodness.

But you couldn’t care. You just couldn’t.

“You’re completely… fuckin’ mad.”

The seven minutes must be up now, wouldn’t it? Your ears strained themselves through the momentary silence as you processed tidbits of laughter from the next room over.

You reminded yourself to beat the everliving Christ out of Felix Catton the next morning.

The palm still collared around your neck dug downward into the base of your shoulders. In the same leering motion, the edge of a heel curved into the density of your legs. Before you can even process the situation, the rock-hard surface of the wardrobe is felt underneath your suddenly aching knees.

“Now, now…”

You inclined your head upward. The twisted hues of Oliver Quick bored down upon you, like wood to an already brewing fire engulfing the inner workings of your womanhood. The hollow of your throat bobbled as you gave a dense swallow.

An even denser zip of Oliver’s dress pants sounded throughout the wardrobe.

“How about I teach you a lesson on how a brat should behave?”

WORD COUNT: 3K MASTERLIST REQ ME!

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thehopelessromanticclub · 5 months

Text

WONWOO FIC RECS I

💋- smut // 💗-fluff //🥀-angst //💌-personal favourite

Series

introduce me a good person - @taeyegu (friends to lovers au) 💗🥀

“if there is a nice person, please introduce him to me. sometimes like water, sometimes like fire. someone who can love me sincerely. i hope he is someone who is mature and faithful…”

I found love in your smile - @wonlouvre (royalty au, arranged marriage au)💗🥀

The shattered camera - @puppetwritings( celebrity au, paparazzi au)💗🥀

Wonwoo already had enough on his plate as it is—proving his parents wrong, making a living, fighting his just conscience—and with you in the picture, nothing could possibly go more wrong. Or could you be his ticket to the good life that he wanted?

Drabbles/one-shots

Healing hues - @thedensworld (Slowburn, friendship au) 💗🥀

Exhausted by the monotony of his life as a celebrity, Wonwoo makes a pivotal decision to return to his childhood hometown and embark on a heartwarming project: building a small library named 'Healing Hues.' Little does he know, this journey will lead to a series of unexpected and transformative events.

Ruminations - @waldau 💗💌

[08:41 pm] - @jjuniehao💗💌

Deluxe version - @darl-ings💗🥀💌

in which you and Wonwoo spend some alone time together.

Bedtime routine - @yikesmary 💗💌

where you loved times like these with your boyfriend, Wonwoo.

Two umbrellas - @hanniology💗💌🥀

Wonwoo doesn’t believe in love at first sight, but you do after meeting him.

Flustered - @waldau💗💌

Take a chance - @wonwoonlight💗💌

and they were newlyweds - @viastro 💗💌

in which Wonwoo builds the Ikea couch, but something... doesn’t look right.

conclusion number three - @wonwoonlight💗💌

you have a hypothesis you'd like to prove. a/n- this one was sooo Wonwoo-coded

The regular - @trblsvt (bakery au, college au) 💗

Wonwoo couldn't really recommend anything at the bakery he worked at, he couldn't even handle going in a couple days a week. that is until he found his new favorite customer.

Chocolate rum cookies - @wonwoonlight (non-idol au, friends to lovers au) 💗

Play again - @shuarush💗💌

after ten years of not seeing your high school crush you find yourself partnered with him at the company you work for. Since you've been rejected before, you try your best to not let any feelings flourish, but Jeon Wonwoo's charms make that attempt especially hard for you. a/n - totally an all-time favorite.

first kiss with seventeen: wonwoo - @etherealyoungk💗💌

"stay there. i'm coming to get you." - @dokyeomin💗💌

wedding weekends with wonwoo - @suhnshinehaos (fake dating, non-idol au)💗🥀

jeon wonwoo, the perfect man. kind, smart, successful career, and not too bad on the eyes. all his friends are getting married and everyone’s aunts, mothers, and family friends are trying to set him up with their friends, sisters, brothers, nieces, and nephews at every wedding he attends. he’s tired of it. what better way to solve his problem than to employ your help, someone who’s having the exact same one?

Thank you authors for all your amazing works.🤩

If there are any fics that anyone would like to recommend feel free to do so🤗😁.

( also the dividers were from @cafekitsune and @baexywth. they have really cool dividers. do check them out.)

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me-uglypretty · 3 months

Text

my brother's wife

Pairing: Carol Danvers x F!Reader

Summary: Carol faces the conflict of war, and the love of her life or more accurately, the sister of a man she married.

Warning: (18+), fluff, mention of battle/war | 4k words

| C.D. Masterlist | Notify | Navigation |

The most confident, bravest, strongest, and coolest hero—spoken with enthusiasm by the honest words of Kamala Khan—was revealed as the heavily adored Princess of Aladna. Captain Marvel, a genuine royalty among her cheerful people. A princess that roused such joy and smiles from those around the symphonic planet.

“That’s so cool! You’re a princess!” Kamala had exclaimed after the moment of revelation had passed. “Oh my god, my favourite…my idol…my captain is also a princess,” she mumbled to herself, eyes widening at each word, and the absolute look of shock on her face when she stared adoringly at Carol.

On the other side, Monica appeared equally bewildered of the infamous hero’s newly revealed title. Carol tried relaying the reasons for her status at the planet, and only received teasing remarks that made her both annoyed and flush at their comical reactions.

Distraction soon arises for the two to further their teasing when the music begun playing. Aladna’s adored couple, the prince and princes dancing together dreamily, voices blending into the other to spoken words of a coming war.

Prince Yan was quick with his reaction, immediately directing them towards a guest room to prepare themselves for battle. Furthering their planning as he spoke privately with Carol then dismissing himself as the three were left assembling their own plan of action for Dar-Benn’s attack.

However, their conversation came to a halt when hushed voices were heard from outside their room. The sounds had diverted their attention towards the closed door, several seconds passed before the wide door was pushed open forcefully and someone entered in a rushed manner, scaring both Monica and Kamala while Carol merely reacted to the sudden intrusion.

“You’re here,” was spoken first, voice conveying brazen anger and eyes staring straight into those visibly cowering. “And you brought guest.”

Carol had flinched. Those words fell harshly from a mouth always sounding so sweet, someone she missed dearly and greatly from the unpleasant time apart. But when her own wide eyes met those orbs seemingly glimmering in pure wrath—she had smiled, dissolved was the sudden fear of what may happened, forgotten was the war that would soon arrive.

It was you, wasn’t it?

Why wouldn’t Carol smile at the sight of you?

It’s foolish to simply overlook the clear irritation on your face, but Carol had always reacted as foolishly possible when it came to you. Her eyes linger on your form, trailing from the strict look on your face to the hues of your clothes that appeared different from the occupants of Aladna. A sort of darkness looms in tinge of yellow, surely making you recognisable in the crowd. Though, that was undoubtedly the truth when you appeared in any places. A beauty like yours, and Carol crumbles at the sight.

You were there. Carol was there. A border that separated two was the upcoming war. Perhaps, it was the continuous voices that sang to their hearts desire, rarely disturbed by anger and unlike how a certain flair of anger seems stuck on your face.

But you’re…you.

“Why…why is Carol smiling?” Kamala whispered, nudging her elbow to Monica’s side at the question. The oldest between two simply shrugged, far too invested to know of her aunt’s new drama.

It was true. Carol was smiling at the sight of you, a stranger simply stood by the closed door. Hands fisted by your side, a frown settled deep on your face as your eyebrows furrowed and round eyes stared in her direction, anger that seems to slip gradually into confusion as your eyes examined the strangers in the room. Then, almost as if the realisation had settled when you noticed the younger girl, your glare was fixed back on Carol with madden intensity.

Carol cleared her throat first, mouth parted to say something then deciding on approaching you instead. “I know what you’re going to say—”

“I have nothing to say to you.”

Those words carried an unpleasant silence through the thickening tension. Carol’s approach was blocked as you swerve around her and walked towards the two guests.

Kamala takes an uncertain step back, seemingly pressing her body closer to Monica. Her wide eyes, those pools of soft brown swirls with an expression of fear, confusion, and adoration.

You lifted your fisted hand, extending towards Kamala and revealed a piece of pink candy in your palm. The puzzled look on her face fades seconds as she accepted the candy and uttered a soft thank you. After the minimal interaction, you glance towards the older woman stood beside her. Monica doesn’t offer a smile of any sort as your eyes squints at her like you found her familiar, before nodding your head at her.

“If you need anything, let me know. I’ll be waiting outside this room,” you stated sternly and spun around to make an exit.

Carol’s hand almost reached for yours but dropped by her side with a tired sigh as a hand was raised in her direction, silencing her from uttering anything else. The warning look remained on your face as you opened the door and closed it behind you.

It was almost too quiet till the sound of soft steps reached Carol’s side.

A hum was followed by the question, “So…who was that?”

Carol seemed to had awaken from her swirling thoughts. The clear curiosity was on Kamala and Monica’s face, neither gathering a reasonable answer for the slightly awkward and entirely too conflicted situation. The oldest of them had choose to ignore the questions looming in utter confusion and gestured for them to prepare for the upcoming battle.

It's you, it’s her, and it’s time she set aside her personal matters for the sake of their safety.

Out of the various disastrous occurrence, you weren’t prepared for the forced warfare in your peaceful planet. A home that was always glowing in hues of bright colours, people sharing the sounds of their love and embracing each other tenderly. Despite the conflict that arise at some point that made you dim, it was nothing alike the beliefs that your parents had taught you, and it wasn’t alike the absolute chaos you had witness.

Now, you were stood by the window that exhibited a view of the unexplored galaxy and you were fuming at the sight. A single foot taps rhythmically on the metal flooring, it was a song that your mother used to sing when nights were far too dark and worry expands in your chest. The kind of agony that carried forward as you grew older and when you were forced into the space ship with her.

It's for the best, your brother had claimed and pushed your body towards the hovering ship. The best of his decision was questioned in sake for you or for him. You assumed the latter was the obvious answer.

“How are you doing?” the tender voice asked and instantly, you smelled the slightly burnt aroma that carried through the air. “Coffee?” was offered soon after with a friendly smile.

When you accepted the offer, instantly did the warmth from the mug spreads to the width of your palms. A soft hum resonates through your throat as you sipped the bitter drink tentatively, the warmth doesn’t settle the ache in your chest but offer a sort of comfort from the chill that surrounds the unaccustomed space.

A gentle whisper of a thank you, and seconds after, your gaze met those of dark brown eyes swirling with sympathy.

“We weren’t formally introduced…but I’m Monica,” she introduced herself after offering the beverage. “That’s Kamala,” she pointed her thumb back, and you followed her gaze towards the young girl sat at the edge of the desk, kicking her feet absently then waving shyly in greeting at realisation that the attention had diverted to her.

You nodded your head first, followed by the confession that seemingly pulled her attention entirely on you. “I know…you,” and timid smile was revealed on your face.

Monica’s eyes seemingly widen at the revelation, eyebrows furrowed and mouth parted with questions lingering in her mind since your appearance. A taunting sense that hasn’t provided her with an idea of you.

Though, the wanting conversation was abruptly stopped by sounds of metal clattering to the ground, echoing throughout the shared space. Grumbles of sort was heard moments after, and Monica smiled, an apology lingering at the tip of her tongue as she hastily walked towards the urgent noise.

It left you alone, or at least, with the youngest among them.

Kamala’s face settled with an expression of utter concentration, the lines over her eyebrows more prominent as she squints her eyes and in return, you followed the reaction that seems to flutter out of nowhere. A moment shared between two at an hour that wasn’t great to neither, and it was the sign of a slight smile curling at her lips that warmth your heart. The commenced of a staring contest that you knew of well, a game that you had experienced with the children of Aladna.

It takes approximately ten seconds after that your façade dissolved into a smile that pulled at the muscles of your cheeks and laughter which carried happily in the air. Kamala snorted at the reaction, almost dropping the bowl of snacks in her hands from her uncontrollable laughter.

The rush of innocence in that moment, grasped at your heart and hers, which later you assumed. It seemed foreign to experience something so childlike. Life had become nothing but a period of attending to trivial occasions or listening to orders that enforced your presence far from significant discourses. The thought itself makes you feel strange. Did life really succumb into such dullness? If so, and life has truly met the worst then was that why a young child like her had become intertwined with a growing war?

Few minutes after, when neither you or Kamala was at the start of another childlike act, the young girl made a sound alike a hum.

“I like your scarf,” Kamala pointed out, her head nodding towards the fabric that was tired firmly around your wrist. “It’s pretty…like you,” she added faintly as a shy smile appeared on her face.

The mention of said scarf; an iridescence like maroon fabric which surface is scattered with a phrasing that looked faded, and the seams of the fabric was woven with embroidery of flowers in shade of gold and silver. It was one of the many fabrics made in your home planet, though, this article of clothing carried a significant meaning.

It's special, you would explain as a conclusion.

You placed the coffee in your possession by the window before untying the scarf around your wrist. Taking gentle steps forward, a tender smile curls at your lips as you glance at the fabric in your hand then meeting Kamala’s curious gaze. “Here, you can have it,” you said, and waited for the young girl to extend her hand.

A soft gasp was heard when the scarf was entirely in her touch. The sudden glow that resurfaced wasn’t unusual as you smiled at the sight. It was always a special fabric, and you believed that—Kamala is even more special.

“It’s glowing! Oh my…” she exclaimed, excitement seemingly losing an understand of what she was saying as you chuckled at her reaction. “Really?” she asked, after settling with a wide grin on her face. “Thank you!” she rushed to warp her arms around you as returned the show of affection.

“It’s a special scarf,” you spoke fondly of it. “Promised to guide in time of trouble…” you briefly explained, and witness the young girl inspecting the scarf intriguingly then her eyes, round and wide, stared into yours with questions that you waved off. “No, it’s not going to help you in every situation. It comes and goes, you’ll feel it when it does,” you wiggled your hands to emphasis it’s magic.

You wouldn’t exactly utter the word of magic. It’s not a trick. It’s just, that, something special and only worthy to those of pure heart.

“What’s that?”

The question was rushed, hand grasping your wrist that was once tied with a scarf. It doesn’t occur to you of Kamala’s sudden interest till the next question dropped from her mouth in utter surprise.

“Is that a glowing tattoo?”

You hastily pulled your hand away, and feign obliviousness as you shrugged. “Don’t know.”

The lie that slips from your tongue feels customary. It was a part of you that you hid well. The very emblem that stirred your chest with such rage, waiting for moments after another to erupt in sheer bloody wrath, and express the very notion that made you feel lost. At that same instant, where those feelings roused in such situation, the reason appeared in lurid steps.

“Hey, how are you feeling?” Carol’s voice carried warmly through and her body inched closer, while yours visibly retreated with a livid scowl on your face.

Carol has always been the reason.

And there, she crossed her arms. “Are you serious? You’re still mad about what happened?”

Anger flash in your eyes, widening in sheer frustration and irritation. All those crimson flush that seems obvious to her, and you hoped for the least that she reconsiders her next choice of words. You take that step first, forcing your body into her proximity. A single finger pointed at the centre of her chest as you spoke the next line in blazing fury and in a tone that surely left everyone close stunned.

“No. You don’t get it, Carol. You got the prosperous ending with my brother, the chance to leave and continue your beautiful life in space. You had that, just pick up everything and leave to your lonesome like you always do,” you glance around her space ship to emphasise her isolation. “But I didn’t. I faced the backlash for not choosing the right person, for not— you promised that it will always be me and you.”

The breath released after your admission, it pulled at your chest and settled a heavy there. It doesn’t improve when your eyes started into hers, those spheres that you once compared to the sun.

Carol—she was the person you fell so hopelessly for—and she felt that same too, at those hours spend conversing of everything to nothing. You were sure of it. Those eyes of light brown held a heavenly like adoration for you. The mundane act of life, where her hands always find yours or the crimson flush on her cheeks when your hand rest firmly on her thigh. Carol always held a look in her eyes that others would express of how you perceive said person who painted the starts specifically for you, only someone loves you truly would go beyond to achieve that.

She speaks of it too, the love that she holds for purely for you. It was never doubt that she would have seize every colour in the universe for you. The promise that sealed her lips over yours at the first night you presumed her as another space adventurer. She wasn’t, that she swore upon.

It was love. You were confident of it.

Why must she had done everything against it?

You haven’t found the answers. Carol had left you abandoned while you still saw her face everywhere you turn and your brother’s satisfied smile at the mention of his wife.

It wasn’t fair to you—to your aching heart that stayed, still waiting for the glow of the night to appear and to see her smile. You waited for Carol every night till your mind settled with an end.

She could never settle herself for something permanent.

“You have always been so good at leaving, Carol Danvers,” you uttered with finality, and immediately walked away from her.

Pretence slips instantly. You ignored the look of disappointment on Monica’s face or the sounds of shock from Kamala at the revelation. Life was always like this; pretend, speak of every hurt, and pretend again.

Carol acknowledged the mistakes she made from the first that she remembers to the expense of the last. It takes saving the world with such reckless actions before and after, and the most horrible parts of it for her to finally understand. It was the same route that leads for another mistake.

Her heart ached with knowing that neither could compare to the shame that bathe her at leaving you in such state, and the absolute betrayal of accepting the marriage proposed by your brother. It was a documented act to solve a conflict. Merely an act, a performance for the politics that blurred heavily between social construct of Aladna and the heir of the throne.

“She’s very angry with you,” Kamal mumbled nonchalantly which ultimately directed Carol’s attention to her. “But she’s very pretty…” she trailed, momentarily getting distracted by the transparent screen which possessed classified information. “Actually, I think every beautiful woman…hates you,” and with that, she gasped dramatically at the realisation.

Carol argued with the brewing thoughts in the younger girl’s mind. “That’s not— stop, not every woman hates me.”

“Okay,” Kamila answered sarcastically. The utter shock of seeing her idol had fade into confidence if she was speaking like this without a worry, and it kind of made Carol wish back for the early stages of meeting Kamala.

A tired sigh emits from her throat, her hand brushed the blonde strains that fell to her forehead. “Kamala, she doesn’t hate me.”

Kamala scoffed at the statement. Carol’s eyebrows furrowed, and she titled her head, a look that made the younger girl raise her hand in surrender. It was followed by soft mumbles of apologies.

“She’s not happy with me right now, and I understand her,” Carol claimed, confidence wavering at each word after the tense and one-sided conversation with you. “Anyway, why do you even think that?” she questioned, before pushing the younger girl’s hand from messing with the buttons close by, and a cheeky smile soon resurfaced on her face.

“Because she gave me her scarf, she helped before and after the fight, she’s really nice…then you appeared and suddenly, I feel like a child of divorce…” Kamala expressed with a pout.

Carol’s mouth parted in shock, open and closing as though she was trying to comprehend the way to breath or find a suitable way to response. Ultimately at her speechlessness, Carol huffed and turned around, swiftly leaving the young girl giggling in her dismissal of the subject.

How could Kamala have assumed that, as if, the relationship shared between two was obvious to everyone. Carol knew you enough and that served as the only motive as search for you in the space ship.

It hasn’t left her mind since the night she had left. The circulating questions on if your brother was aware of the relationship that brew between you and her. Did the proposal of marriage arise after knowing the truth or was it proposed at the state of unknown?

Then she heard your voice, reaching her ears to where her mind drones the questions and her chest soothe with a warmth from a voice she had missed. You sounded so you, so gentle, so affectionate, and so unliked the voice that spat angrily in her direction.

You were sat by the monitors with Monica. A conversation flowing easily between two people who had never met before this. Carol was careful as she stood behind the wall, enough to stay hidden and still eavesdrop which she knew was a bad thing, but she couldn’t hinder her curiosity.

“Carol talk about you,” was the revelation that shifted Monica’s attention entirely onto you and deserting the classified information she was reading through. “There was so many stories that it felt like I knew you…but you’re obviously not a kid anymore and I don’t think your Aunt Carol had accepted that yet,” you teased at the end, resulting in chuckles from the other women.

“Our relationship feels weird,” Monica admitted, a sort of comfort disclosed in her posture as she shared her thoughts with you. “It’s been years since I last saw her and…” she paused with a tired sigh.

You nodded your head understandingly. “Regardless of what had happened in the past, I know very well that Carol misses you and she loves you so much,” your hand rested comfortingly on Monica’s arm as you continued, “I really do believe that she wants to try and make this better.”

The conversation fades into the background when Carol turned away from it. After all she had done, the absolute heartbreak that was vivid in your eyes, and you still spoke of her so kindly with someone sharing the same angry for her leaving. It wouldn’t make sense if someone else heard this, but Carol knows your compassion goes beyond.

You were rooting for her relationship with Monica to heal. It felt like your anger as fated at her, but never around what she was for everyone else.

Carol wishes and hopes that she could have the chance to fix the mess she created, and to hear your voice speak sweet to her.

The feeling of something horrible occurring—that ache which drew the most horrifying scream from your chest, your throat burns from the sheer strength it took, your hands trembling, your eyes blurry as tears shed—and the aftermath of it.

To witness someone, not just anyone, but the love of your life confined in a battle that doesn’t present an idea of who would survive. To ready your heart for the worse rather than the good, as the later hasn’t transpired for years, and you were always expecting the worse when it was intertwined with you.

Carol was, is intertwined with you.

The reality of a dreadful battle had disregarded the resentment which stirred in your chest at the sheer mention of her. Betrayal of such, wasn’t promised forgiveness. A part of you knew, forgiveness materialised in your heart when you first saw her on the dance floor, despite her close embrace with your brother.

Everything that you felt was dismissed completely at the sight of her, alive and breathing as she stood just steps away from you. Carol frowned, cheeks crimson and skin gleaming of sweat. It takes one move for her mouth to part, and for you to leap into her arms as she held you close. They won, and she was alive.

In the heat of such reunion, you pushed yourself back slight, your soft eyes gazing into hers and like nature pursuit the sun’s shine, your mouth hovers over hers—

And you kissed her.

One kiss after another, mouth pressing into the other as though air was transfer in that way, her touch melting you into a puddle of love for her.

Carol was stunned and hoped the forbidden wake from a dream wouldn’t ruin this moment with you. It doesn’t happen, not when your hands grasped her face or when her hands fell to your waist. You were kissing her so fondly that the smile on her face the only reason you stopped.

“You kissed me,” Carol whispered, her minty breath fans over your mouth, and you used to tease her for her habit of eating mint candies when she was stressed. “You kissed me.”

You hummed. “And you kissed me back.”

However, the sweet reunion of love was interrupting by a cough. Carol shifted her head slight, looking over your shoulder to see Monica stood there with an unamused expression. You tenderly turned around in her embrace, back pressed into hers as Carol rested her head on your shoulder.

It's perfect, she confessed to her heart. The bad was resolved, and you still love her. You love her enough and haven’t left her side since the start of this unavoidable war.

She doesn’t need any other proof of love than the way your hand grasps her wrist and hold her closer. The glimpse of a mark on your wrist proof of it more, a matching emblem of love that glows warmly on her skin and yours.

“So…you forgive her for being problematic?” Monica teased, and instantly raised her hands in feign surrender when Carol glared at her. “Okay, calm down, Aunt Carol. I was just…stating the obvious.”

A groan trembles through your shoulder at Carol’s annoyance. “Don’t you have anything better to do? Where’s Kamala? Go take care of her, please,” Carol plead in the end, and Monica smiled, waving her hands at you as she walked away.

Carol turned your body around, facing you entirely as the smile on her face widens as you were smiling at her too. It’s unreal, she thought, as her fingers trace the curve of your lips and you lean into her touch.

You felt the texture of her skin, the print of her birth and the ones occurred from her life filled with action. She wasn’t a fragment of a memory that made you curse and cry the night away. Just knowing she was there with you, lessen the ache that was so persistent in your heart.

“I’m sorry for messing up,” Carol whispered, her hand grasps your jaw tenderly. “I shouldn’t— I should have never left you. It’s my fault, and I would do everything to fix this, fix us.”

You simply listened or more, admire the little furrow of her brows as she spoke, the line that drew over forehead which appeared more prominent when she was frowning, and the way her eyes visibly softened, it’s not the look of a warrior but of someone blooming with sympathy. Your body seemed to react first as you pressed your mouth firmly over hers, lips completely shutting her from her rambles of apologies.

“I forgive you,” was whispered as another kiss was followed by, “But you have a long way to fix everything,” you pointed, and she chuckled, nodding her head in agreement.

This was entirely the way either of you expected for rekindle of a relationship, but she was there, you were there, and safely together. Life, rough as it always had been, but it would eventually resolve into better thing. You accepted this at once as her eyes gaze into yours, the tender touch of her hand, and the sweet smile on her face.

You kissed again—just for her.

“But you are divorcing my brother or this,” you pushed yourself back, creating a gap between bodies. “Would never work out,” you stated as you removed your hands from hers and patted her chest softly.

The response that came after was the sound of your distant steps, and Carol’s eyes followed your figure retreating to where the rest were surely waiting.

“Wait! Stop!” Carol shouted suddenly, realisation dawning on her after completely losing her state of consciousness from your touch. “We got married on papers to solve a conflict! It’s not real, hey!”

The laughter that echoed through the space ship was shared among those surviving another formidable battle. You were laughing with Monica and Kamala while Carol was trying her hardest to justify her political marriage, and the slight appearance of a smile when she realises that this is her family. Loneliness doesn’t dwell at each corner of this floating ship, but the warmth of friendships, and rekindled relationships.

hi! if you enjoyed this, do consider getting me coffee 💜

#carol danvers x reader #carol danvers x you #carol danvers imagine #captain marvel x you #captain marvel x reader #captain marvel imagine

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simp4wom3n · 4 months

Text

The Quiet One Pt V

Pairing: Tara Carpenter x Fem!reader

Summary:With Ghostface closing in on them, Act 3 finally begins as everyone teams up to hopefully once and for all take them down. ~ Word Count: 9.8k ~ Warnings: descriptions of gory injuries, blood, and anything that comes with Scream, Scream VI spoliers!!, hella swearing

A/N: OMG HEY!!!! IM BACK!!! It has been such a ridiculously long time since I have written, and I'M SO SORRY. Life really got in the way for a while, but I am back. This fic is so damn long it took me ages, but I hope it's everything you guys wanted. I love you all! COME ON MOTHERF*CKER!!

Pt1 ~ Pt2 ~ Pt3 ~ Pt4 ~ Pt5

Stepping onto the brisk streets of New York, a cool breeze brushed against your skin, painting a rosy hue on your nose and cheeks. The gentle breeze caressed your scar, providing needed relief to its subtle throbbing as you walked hand-in-hand with Tara, who was engrossed in conversation with her sister, while the rest of the group led the way to the station. Eyes scanning your surroundings hastily, your brain attempted to adjust to your new vision as you watched people walk past, utterly oblivious to the psycho that was tormenting their city.

You had never been more jealous.

While meeting Tara was undoubtedly the best part of your life, walking nonchalantly down a busy street at night without checking your shoulder regularly sounded pretty nice. Was it worth throwing your love for Tara away for? Absolutely not, yet you would be lying if you said there wasn't a little voice in the back of your mind that liked to remind you how every day your life could've been - especially after everything you've suffered, as if Woodsboro wasn't enough.

As if sensing your discomfort, Tara paused her conversation with her sister to glance at you worriedly, her eyes scanning your rigid posture and distant eyes moving too fast for her to track. She squeezes your hand to grab your attention as your eyes finally meet hers, your lone e/c eye standing out against its pale white counterpart. "You okay?" she whispers softly, her eyebrows creasing slightly. "Yeah," you sighed dejectedly, "just kinda wishing I had a normal life... you know, without all this Ghostface shit".

You watched as Tara's face fell slightly at your words, causing you to panic, "It's not your fault! I love you and everyone here. I just hate worrying about who will be alive in the morning." Her expression was slightly lifted as a small smile formed on her lips, but guilt continued to gnaw at her eyes. You could hear her whisper, "Yeah, I get it", as she briefly looked away to look at others a few metres ahead of you. She lets go of your hand with a comforting squeeze as she quickens with each step. "I'll be right back."

Watching as she walked off, a gentle hand on your shoulder pulled your attention from the small girl now talking to Mindy. "Did I say something?" you ask, knowing it was Sam standing next to you. "No, she just likes to run off sometimes," she jokes lightheartedly, a slight chuckle falling from your lips. "Tell me about it.". Mindy glances back at you as Tara approaches Chad and Danny. "She's a difficult girl to understand, but if there's one thing I know for sure, it's that she loves you. It's a little obsessive, honestly." Your cheeks flush as you look at Sam questionably, "Sam being sentimental? Never thought I'd live to see that." "Oh shut up" she shoves your shoulder playfully as a comfortable silence falls between the two of you.

Curious, you gaze at Tara as she returns to her position beside you, intertwining your hands without hesitation. You enquire softly, "What was that all about?" while she keeps her gaze fixed on the approaching station stairs. "Nothing. I just needed to talk to them about something.". Despite feeling it was about you, as said friends kept looking over their shoulders at you, you stopped yourself from pushing it.

As soon as you stepped foot in the station, you were greeted by an overwhelming influx of people, many of whom were dressed in Halloween costumes. Mindy steps back from the group in front to stand by your side as you take in your surroundings for the first time. Like you, she looks through the crowds, her expression more serious than you're used to on her. You excused her unusual behaviour until you both walked into someone who stared at you wide-eyed, horrified by your scar.

"What the fuck are you looking at?! Fuck off! Jeez... some people."

Now, you were the one who had to look at Mindy with wide eyes. This type of aggression was uncommon for the typically gentle and humorous girl, so the fact that she even displayed it, especially to defend you, it shocked you, to say the least. "Damn, Mindy… thanks," you muttered under your breath as Mindy returned your timid smile, "They deserved it."

Walking further onto the platform, the group waited momentarily whilst the train came to a stop and the doors opened. With tons of people trying to squeeze through the small doors to fit in the tiny space left on the packed train, it became a free-for-all. It happened in a blur; your hand separated from Tara's as Danny dragged her onto the train, leaving you and Mindy amongst the wave of people.

Amidst the chaos of people jostling your shoulders, your attention shifted away from Mindy's presence and focused solely on reaching a concerned Tara. Mindy's frustration became evident through the curse words she hurled at those around you. As you pushed your way towards your girlfriend, an obnoxious person dressed as Ghostface forcefully pushed you from behind, causing you to stumble onto the train and into Tara's embrace, the girl grunting softly at the impact. The echo of Mindy's furious tirade filled the air as you finally turned to witness her forcefully pulling off their mask.

Tucked in Tara's embrace, a soft chuckle escaped your lips at the scene before you. That was until the doors of the train started to close. "Shit… Mindy!" you exclaim, feeling a surge of guilt wash over you as you desperately try to reach the door, only to be held back by Tara. You watch Mindy's sudden realisation of the closing doors, a loud 'fuck' escapes her lips as she tries to navigate through the remaining crowd in her path.

The doors shut just as she's about to reach them.

You pound your fist against the door in frustration, mirroring the same exasperated look on Mindy's face. Grabbing your phone, you motioned for her to do the same through the glass as you texted her. The whine of the train starting to move fills your ears as Tara pulls you closer, her body wrapped around your free arm.

In the midst of all the chaos, it escaped your attention that Ethan had also managed to miss the train, although you couldn't quite fathom how. Your phone dings with a text from Mindy. "She's taking the train right after us with Ethan," you inform the group, slipping your phone into your back pocket and releasing a quiet sigh.

"She'll be okay. She's Mindy." Tara comforts you softly, gently stroking your arm as you gaze down at her, nodding in response. You embraced your girlfriend in a tender and heartfelt hug. You were burdened with guilt. You're not sure where this sudden protective nature had come from, and although your heart felt some relief knowing that she cared, you couldn't help but feel responsible for it.

She was protecting you, and look where that got her.

Letting go of Tara, you gently kissed her forehead and intertwined your hand with hers. Until now, you were completely absorbed in your thoughts, oblivious to the tension brewing within the group. Taking your gaze off your girlfriend, the source of said discomfort became obvious.

Ghostface.

Everywhere.

"Oh, what the fuck" you cursed as Tara's grip on your hand tightened. Everywhere you looked, there were individuals wearing the costume that perpetually plagued your nightmares, and their unwavering gazes seemed to be fixated on you. "Why are there so many of them?" Chad asked, his frustration evident in his voice as he, too, grew tired of encountering the same pale mask wherever he went.

Everyone's faces are ridden with anxiety. "How many stops do we have?" Tara inquired with a heightened sense of urgency, eager to get off the train just like the rest of you. Sam gazes at the map, undoubtedly internally pleading that it's not too many. Looking back at the group, she hesitates slightly, revealing the news couldn't be good. "Ten", she speaks solemnly. Tara's eyes are filled with concern as you exchange worried glances, causing your heart to race at an abnormal speed.

The subway lights start flickering, intensifying the eerie atmosphere inside the train. Your vision, already impaired, struggled to follow every Ghostface amidst the flickering lights. It became nearly impossible for you to keep track of them, adding to the waves of anxiety that were rushing over you.

As the train came to a halt, the lights flickered into a steady glow, and a voice over the intercom announced your arrival at 79th Street. In a matter of seconds, as you glanced down the carriage, your gaze met that of one of the masked individuals. Your face fell. A sense of fear filled the air, your breath catching in your throat as both of you remained motionless, captivated by the piercing gaze of those intense black eyes.

As if they had never been there, your intense gaze was interrupted when they vanished behind someone getting on the train. You felt a sinking feeling in your stomach as you scanned the area, desperately searching for any sign of them, but your efforts proved futile. The others remained clueless about what you just saw as the train started to move again, the lights resuming their irritating flickering.

You pulled Tara closer to you as the carriage grew dim, the silhouettes of your friends becoming the only discernible shapes in the darkness. With a tender embrace, she places her hand on your back, tracing soothing circles that bring you a sense of calm. You locked your gaze on the floor as the cabin continued to flicker around you.

"This is 72nd Street", the announcer speaks monotonously, the train coming to a stop as you look up from the floor, noticing your girlfriend's concerned gaze directed towards you. Attempting to avoid her gaze, your sight lands back on the Ghostface from before, again staring daggers at you. You try to maintain an equally stern gaze, which you manage until they start moving towards you at pace.

"Guys", you quickly inform the others about the imminent danger. The atmosphere instantly tense up as all eyes fixate on the approaching figure. Tara and Chad both step forward to protect you. The Ghostface suddenly stops right in front of you, causing your friends to freeze in an effort to avoid giving away any reaction, just in case it's not the real killer.

Attacking a perfectly innocent person on a New York subway was the last thing you needed, especially with the rumours surrounding Sam.

With a sudden and effortless motion, the person in front of you removes their mask, making Chad flinch. Instead of those frightening black eyes, a teenage girl's soft brown eyes fixated on you, brimming with a curious intensity that seemed almost unhinged.

"Holy shit, your makeup is so good! I saw it from across the train, but, oh my god, it looks so much better up close. How did you do it?" she chirps out in excitement. You freeze, immediately recognising she is talking about your scar.

Your perfectly real scar.

You find yourself speechless, unable to form a response as the unexpected question catches you off guard. Without hesitation, the girl extends her hand towards your face, her fingers inching closer to your scarred face. Taken aback, you witness Chad's hand swiftly grasping the girl's wrist with a firm grip. The expression on the girl's face is filled with surprise, whilst Chad displays determination.

"Get away from her before I make you." Your eyebrows raise slightly at his words, your lips quirked into a small smile as you revelled in your friends' newfound sense of protectiveness.

It made you feel human again.

You softly thank Chad, who gives you a curt nod and a smile as your face lights up with a smile that hadn't adorned your lips for many days. Since Ghostface's return, your life has been completely turned upside down. Your friends began to turn against you as the blame game singled you out as its victim, tearing apart the very essence of your being.

However, at this moment, as you bear the marks of your past and the lasting impact it has had on you, a newfound determination surges through your veins as you observe the individuals surrounding you.

These were your people. Your family.

You were determined to go to any lengths to protect them, even if it meant sacrificing yourself for their sake.

With your hands still interlocked, you finally emerge from the sweaty train and lead the way up the stairs, closely followed by Tara and the others. You quicken your pace up the weathered stairs, your gaze searching for a blonde who had agreed to meet you here. A voice you recognise calls to you as you reach the peak of the staircase. "Hey," you hear her say, your eyes meeting Kirby's as you shift your gaze towards the woman.

As she approaches, she effortlessly inserts herself into the group, seamlessly blending in as you all make your way towards the theatre. "I've talked to Bailey. I've got everything set up," she explains before noticing the lack of numbers in the group. "Where are Mindy and Ethan?" she asks, her voice tinged with a mixture of worry and suspicion. Clenching your jaw slightly at the reminder of the people you left behind, Tara jumps in to respond, "They're five minutes behind us."

"Let's get you all inside.", Kirby speaks, nodding in response before she redirects her attention to the theatre, which is now just a few steps in front of you. As the dilapidated structure looms before you, its imposing presence casts a shadow over the group. Everyone's steps come to a halt as Sam directs her attention towards Danny. "Not you."

Turning towards them, you watch as shock comes over Danny's face, "What?" he says, his voice tinged with disbelief. "Don't trust anyone, remember?" Sam speaks softly yet assertively. "We don't know you. Not really.". His face contorted with hurt as he leaned towards Sam. "You know me," he said, trying to convince her to let him protect her.

"You're not Woodsboro. I'm sorry." Whilst you felt bad for Danny, despite knowing that Sam would never willingly let anyone protect her, the revelation that being part of Woodsboro meant you were trusted filled a small part in your heart that you weren't aware was missing.

Releasing Tara's hand, you gently wrap your arm around her shoulder, pulling her close as you watch the interaction. Unbeknownst to you, a small smile graces Tara's lips, a sign that she's starting to see the return of the girl she loves after the emotional and physical turmoil you've both endured over the past few days.

"It's okay. It's okay, I get it." Danny finally speaks up. "Be safe, okay?" he pleads Sam, leaning in and kissing her cheek tenderly while delicately caressing her arms. Sam's face reveals a hint of guilt as she replies, "You too." before swiftly turning around and continuing walking. The rest of you cast sympathetic glances at Danny before joining the girl on the way to the theatre.

"Good call."

As Kirby unlocks the doors with a reverberating clank, a surge of nervousness courses through you as the doors swing open, revealing the dimly lit theatre. With Tara clinging tightly to your side, a sense of unease washes over you as you cautiously enter the room, fully aware of the gravity of the situation. "I cleared the whole place before you got here. This is the only way in or out." Despite your best efforts to pay attention, Kirby's words seemed to go unnoticed as you surveyed the familiar surroundings, a sense of unease growing within you.

"So, this is the only way in or out. He steps in through the first door, both doors lock automatically, trapping him inside. We turn it into a kill box." Kirby continues to explain enthusiastically, clearly entertained by the fact that this is finally her chance to bring one of these psychos to justice. "Weapons?" Sam questions. "One gun and I hold onto it." Sam gives Kirby a disapproving look, but before she can say anything, Kirby interrupts her, "I'm the only one with a badge here. That's the way it's going to be. We're safe here."

As much as you want to believe what she says, this was Ghostface you were dealing with. Despite the lingering uncertainty, you made an honest attempt to maintain trust in the plan's success, not only for your own sake but also for the sake of the others, particularly Tara.

"I'm gonna check in with Mindy. See if they're close." Sam interrupts, breaking the suspenseful silence that had fallen amongst the group. As Sam walks away and Chad follows, Tara squeezes your hand for your attention. "Come with me?" "Of course", you reply softly. She guided you to the old confectionary stand, a room that had unexpectedly become an escape for the two of you, as it felt like the only safe spot in the entire building.

Besides, it was Tara. You would follow her wherever she went.

"When was the last time anybody used this place? It's so old," Tara comments as you walk through the door. Although not well-maintained, the room decor still manages to evoke a strange sense of comfort as you softly chuckle at her words. "Yeah," you respond softly as you both make your way to the counter, gently letting go of Tara's hand and resting your elbows on it.

As you spot an old box of Milk Duds across the counter, your hand instinctively reaches out to grab them, only for your hands to collide with the girls next to you. A faint blush tinges on your cheeks as her hand pulls back, causing a soft chuckle to escape your lips, "I-I'm sorry, you can have them". You apologise, holding the box towards her, a hint of nervousness evident as you gently bite your lower lip. She pushes your hand back towards you with a slight smirk. "Take them."

"No, I mean…" you stuttered, her touch sending a shiver down your spine as you savoured the rare moment alone you'd shared with her for a while. "If you want them, you have them," you eventually finish. "You think I want these?" she chuckles, prompting a shared embarrassed laughter between the two of you. Your eyes lock, smiles forming on your faces, entirely captivated by each other. "Kind of", you joke, raising your eyebrows at her. "They're like a hundred years old. Maybe that's your thing."

Your soft laughter trails off into a comfortable silence as you look down at your hands, your heart racing, but this time from a much more pleasant catalyst. "I really missed you. I don't know why I told you to back off." You smiled gently at her, tears starting to well in your eyes. "I was so stupid. This whole time, all I really needed was you."

The more she spoke, the more flustered you got. Instead of enjoying the sentiment, you couldn't help but let your mind destroy it.

You're different from the person she is talking about.

She fell in love with the girl whose face wasn't mutilated and would probably scare off young kids. Whilst Tara and your friends could look past it, understanding the trauma you had gone through, you would never be able to walk down the Street without being met with horrified gazes from every direction. And even though Tara would undoubtedly try to protect you from it, you were convinced that her efforts would be futile.

"I'm not the same anymore," you said dimly. Tara frowned at you, gently taking hold of your trembling hand. "What do you mean?" "I just... someone mistook me for a Halloween costume for fucks sake... I'm not the same, and I never will be." You speak, deliberately avoiding eye contact with your girlfriend, as if her reaction would confirm the truth behind your words.

She could never see you the same.

Instead, her delicate touch caressed your cheeks, mindful of your scar, as she tenderly lifted your gaze towards her. Your teary eyes met hers as she looked at you with a tender smile. "Y/n... scar or no scar, you are still the same girl I fell in love with. Nothing will ever take you away from me, especially a scar that makes you look pretty badass if you ask me." you chuckle at her words, a few stray tears escaping, which she gently wipes away.

"I love you," she says, her gaze locked with yours, ensuring her words reach you. "I love you too," you speak with a chuckle, leaning closer to her as she wraps her hands around your neck and draws you in. The moment your lips connect, it feels like heaven. The taste of her lips is a sweet revelation, and you plan to savour every moment. The room seems to blur as the outside world dissolves, leaving only the two of you. The warmth between you intensifies, and a current of desire courses through your veins. Sinking deeper into the kiss, you wrap your arms around her waist, squeezing her tightly as your lips begin to move.

As you tried to deepen the kiss, a sudden jolt of pain shot through your scar, causing you to pull back. Closing your eyes and taking a deep breath to suppress the pain, you eventually look towards your girlfriend apologetically as she looks at you worried. "Sorry," you chuckle lightly, "It's... still a little tender." You offer the girl a gentle smile as her hands glide down to your hips. "Don't say sorry. We'll just take it slow." Her seductive gaze locks with yours, setting your senses ablaze and causing a familiar blush to creep onto your cheeks. Briefly taking your bottom lip between your teeth, you lean in again. Nothing else mattered at this moment.

Or so you thought.

As your lips are seconds away from colliding, Tara's body is slammed into you as a scream erupts from her throat. Your eyes go wide in panic as you scream her name, only to see Ghostface standing behind her with a knife in her back. She is ripped from your grip as she is thrown to the ground. Although your instincts told you to help her, the masked individual who was now staring straight at you told you otherwise.

Without warning, their knife comes swinging towards you. Taking a swift step back, you barely dodge the blade as they go to swing again, their arm colliding with you. With a grunt, you harshly grip their arm before pulling them around you and throwing them into the wall. The shattering of glass from the poster frame intensifies the chilling encounter as another swing of the knife inches dangerously close to your face. Dodging the swing, you swiftly regained your footing and delivered a powerful punch to the psycho's face. As your fist made contact with their chin, they crumpled to the ground. As the cries of Tara echo in your ear, in a fit of anger, you direct your attention towards their fallen form and deliver a forceful kick to their stomach.

Frantically realising that there was little time they would be on the ground, you swiftly pivoted and rushed to your girlfriend's side, urgently helping her to her feet and guiding her towards the door. With a sudden burst, the door swings open, startling you as Sam and Chad's faces, filled with terror, appear on the other side, their expressions clearly reflecting the echoes of Tara's bone-chilling scream. They quickly notice your dire situation and urgently drag you from the room.

"Come on, go, go, go!" Sam screams as you run out of the room, and Chad slams the door behind you. "It's Kirby! She's the killer!" Sam yells at you, "No shit!" you scream back, desperate to get out of this place. Running towards the caged exit, you grip its rusted bars and pull at it desperately. "That's locked. Come on". Your face falls further, "Are we trapped?" you yell in disbelief. "She made the whole theatre the kill box. For us."

"Hey, what about that? There's an exit door." Tara directs everyone's attention to an opening on the roof, positioned just above a set of scaffolding. "Maybe it leads to the roof or something," you suggest, looking at your girlfriend, who nods in agreement. "There's only one way to find out. Let's go." Chad quickly takes the lead, leading the group towards your potential escape route.

"Bailey's on the way, but-" Sam's words are abruptly interrupted as Ghostface unexpectedly pounces on you from the shadows of the stage. Tara frantically tries to evade the swinging knife, ending up on the floor in an attempt to do so. Unfortunately, you are unable to do the same as the blade slices the side of your arm. You firmly grasp the wound on your arm as you clench your jaw in pain. You watch as the Ghostface continues to swing at Chad and Sam before Chad manages to tackle them onto the floor.

"Y/n! Come on." you hear your girlfriend exclaim, her voice filled with urgency, as you catch sight of her and Sam moving towards the stage. You swiftly move as Chad forcefully slams an old movie camera into their masked face, causing their head to snap back and hit the ground with a resounding thud.

Chad follows you with the camera in hand as you join the girls backstage, both of them looking around frantically for an exit. "This way! Come on!" Tara's voice echoes through the air as she swiftly dashes towards a small tunnel backstage. You eagerly trail behind her along the narrow path, acutely aware of the ominous footsteps of Ghostface closing in from behind. Until now, your lack of vision in one eye hadn't posed much of a problem. Yet, as you sprinted through the narrow pathway, you kept crashing into the walls while Chad struggled to guide you in the right direction.

As you cast a quick glance over your shoulder, a chilling realisation washes over you - Ghostface is steadily closing in. "Fuck, they're fast," you exclaimed, as Chad also realised their proximity. "Get fucked", he shouted as he made the quick decision to hurl the bulky camera at them, immediately slowing them down.

With the additional advantage, you all made it back into the confectionary area as Chad threw the popcorn machine behind you. They quickly push it out of the way as you all turn around to face them. With a slight tilt of their head, they launch a series of aggressive swings towards you and Chad.

The knife narrowly misses both of you as you attempt to position yourselves for some kind of counterattack. Swinging down at Chad, he manages to grab their arm as you grab their shoulders, throwing them back onto the counter. Sam and Tara swiftly seize their arms, desperately trying to subdue them, while you deliver a decisive blow to their face, sending them crashing to the ground once more. As they fall to the ground, Tara quickly runs up to them and boots them in the face.

You couldn't help but think how hot it was.

"Go! Go!" Chad exclaims, swiftly grabbing the old bubblegum dispenser from the counter. With a determined gaze, he raises it above his head, preparing to deliver a decisive blow to Ghostface. Tara and Sam guide you away from him, leading you towards the door, expecting him to join you momentarily.

His piercing screams quickly disrupt the plan, causing everyone to turn their heads in disbelief. Your jaws hang open in shock as you see another Ghostface standing beside him, clutching a knife pierced in his side. "No! Chad!" Tara screams, sending a shiver down your spine. With Sam holding her back, you watch in suspense as the two masked figures surround Chad and lift him up to his knees.

They absolutely butchered him.

Tears welled up in your eyes as you witnessed the relentless onslaught. You watched him get stabbed over and over and over again as if it was never going to end. You were frozen to your spot. He somehow mustered up the strength to tell you to run, but no one could move. "Go," he sputters out, his determination to save the rest of you clear. In a swift and chilling motion, the Ghostfaces allow his lifeless form to crumple to the ground. With synchronised precision, they wipe their blades clean, sending a shiver down your spine.

Finally getting over your shock, you immediately grabbed the two sisters and dragged them out of the door. "This way. Up here. Come on." Sam directs your pointless running as she tries to get you both backstage. Before you can make it, one of the Ghostfaces pounces from behind the screen. Instinctively turning around, you are stopped immediately as the second Ghostface traps you, waving their knife mockingly.

You're surrounded. Whipping your head back and forth, you watch as they both close in on you, the tension in the air palpable. Thinking quickly, Sam assesses the situation with a determined glint in her eyes. Without hesitation, she swiftly grabs some bricks from the debris-laden floor, handing one to you and another to Tara. In that instant, a silent understanding passes between you - do anything to survive.

As Sam moves the two of you so that you find yourselves back to back, forming an impromptu defensive triangle, the weight of the brick in your hand provides an unexpected but reassuring comfort. The cold surface of the brick grounds you, grounding your resolve as you prepare to face whatever unfolds.

"Ready?" Sam asks, and you swiftly reply, although Tara's distressed cries hinder her ability to respond, overwhelmed by panic and fear. "I need you to be ready. Ready?" With your free hand, you firmly grasp Tara's, offering a comforting squeeze while she inhales deeply. Her hesitation overwhelms Sam, prompting her to urge Tara to look at her. As Tara meets her gaze, a newfound determination fills her voice as she declares, "I'm ready."

"Come on motherfucker!"

Just as the fight was about to begin, the deafening echoes of gunshots reverberated through the vast theatre, prompting an instinctive duck for cover. The ominous figures of the two Ghostfaces hastily retreat into the shadows, leaving an unsettling silence shattered only by your heavy breathing. In the dimly lit ambience, a figure emerges from the stage, and a collective gasp escapes the group as the familiar face of Kirby comes into focus, blood streaming down from a fresh wound on her temple.

"It's okay!" Kirby's voice rings out, a desperate attempt to reassure, though her pained expression reveals the gravity of the situation. The vivid red streams on her face contrast with her pale complexion, creating a chilling scene that leaves everyone motionless.

"Stay the fuck back!" Sam's voice pierces the tension, laced with a mix of fear and anger, earning a confused glance from Kirby, disoriented yet resolute. "We know it's you, Kirby," Tara adds, her tone unwavering as Kirby hesitantly approaches the group. "One of them knocked me out," Kirby pleads, her expression changing to one of desperation. Her eyes are genuine, making you want to trust her more, but your trust issues weren't easy to overcome.

"Kirby, stop!" A deep voice slices through the air, redirecting attention to Bailey, who strides into the theatre with a drawn gun, his gaze fixed on Kirby. "Get away from the girls!". The urgency in Bailey's command prompts an instinctive protective response as you push Tara behind you, eyes fixed on the unfolding standoff.

"What are you doing?" Kirby pleads desperately, the air thick with accusation and uncertainty. "Did you kill Quinn!? Did you kill my daughter!?" Bailey's vengeful glare intensifies, scaring the shit out of you.

He clearly wasn't afraid to kill for his kids.

"Jesus Christ!" Kirby exclaims, her eyes darting between you and the detective in disbelief. With her focus back on you, she pleads again, "Whatever he's been saying to you, don't listen to him." The desperation in her gaze transforms into one of resolve as she turns back to the man threatening her. "He's probably the killer," she speaks assertively.

Your gaze remains fixed on Bailey, his expression unwavering even as the damning accusation hangs in the air. Suddenly, the figure of Ghostface appears behind Bailey, and Kirby's frantic scream fills the space, warning him of the imminent threat, "Behind you!" she screams. Disregarding her desperate plea, Bailey swiftly pivots and unleashes three deafening gunshots that pierce through the air, each shot finding its mark, striking Kirby in the chest, and causing her to crumple to the ground.

The aftermath is a haunting symphony of laboured breaths and the lingering echoes of her cries. As your focus shifts back to the killers, you watch in horror as two Ghostfaces stand alongside Bailey, their presence casting a sinister pall over the unfolding chaos. The dim lighting accentuates their ominous figures, while Bailey, wearing a sadistic smirk, reveals himself as an orchestrator of this grim spectacle.

"Great job. Both of you."

"You?"

A palpable tension filled the air in the dimly lit theatre, engulfing you as the truth unravelled right before your eyes. "Yeah, of course me." Bailey teases with a smirk growing on his lips, "Frankly, I expected more from you two after what you did to us."

"What do you mean 'us'?" Tara questioned hesitantly. Bailey's smirk grew into an insufferable smile as he looked to his left, where one of his accomplices was moving to remove the mask. Your heart pounds inside your chest as the white face and black fabric are torn away, revealing your friend's face.

Ethan.

The seemingly unassuming roommate revealed himself with a sinister grin. "Ta-da!" Bailey laughs, finding the shock on all of your faces amusing. The sick look on Ethan's face made you want to puke, the revelation that someone you considered a friend had been out to kill you all along.

The feeling made Woodsboro feel like nothing. The two killers were Sam's boyfriend, whom you had hardly met and someone who you hated from the beginning.

It was nothing compared to seeing the real side of your friend.

With a smirk plastered on his lips, he begins to taunt you about how unsafe you were the whole time, "Mindy was right; it was easy to juke the roommate lottery. All I had to do to meet you was room with a conceited, condescending alpha, literally named Chad. Fuck it felt good to kill him.". You felt a surge of anger coursing through you as he spoke, causing your jaw to clench and your grip to tighten around the brick in your hand.

The idea of Ethan pretending to be his friend for months, only to have been plotting his demise the whole time without any hint of remorse, ignited an unbearable anger inside you.

"This one was your grandmother's Sam. Nancy Loomis?" Ethan smiles at Sam, pointing to his mask with his bloodied knife. "Really runs in your fucking family, doesn't it? And speaking of family, my name isn't Ethan Landry, is it, Dad?"

"Dad?" Tara speaks for the rest of you, your faces growing more shocked. As the shock washes over you, your focus shifts to the second masked figure who still stands menacingly staring directly at you.

"But, if you're Ethan, that just leaves… Mindy?" Sam breathes out in disbelief. Your expression twisted in confusion as you looked back at the memories of how much Mindy had loved Anika. It seemed impossible, yet who else could it be?

Shock filled the room as Quinn removed her mask, leaving you all in stunned silence. "Hey, Roomies. Didn't see that one coming, did you?"

"But you died?" Tara spoke, a hint of anger behind her voice. "Yeah, kinda didn't, though." Quinn quipped mockingly, "It was a good way to get off the suspect list, stab Gale Weathers, stab Mindy on the train, that sort of thing."

Bailey's proud smile made you feel sick as his proud eyes bore into yours, "I made sure I was first on the scene so I could switch her body out with a fresh one. You'd be surprised with what a grieving father can get away with."

Your anger was starting to burst at your seams, being played for fools and having someone come back from the dead to kill your friends, pulling very tight on your last nerve.

"I got Stu Macher's mask. He was my favourite.". You rolled your eyes at her giddy proclamation. Of course, he was.

Bailey, clearly the leader of this psychotic trio, took slow and calculated steps towards Sam. "Number three and number two. Which just leaves…" Pulling out the most weathered mask from his jacket, he holds it out towards Sam, his eyes menacing. "I'm gonna need you to put it on."

Sam stands tall and looks back at the man with a matching expression, slapping the mask out of his hand as you watch his jaw clench in anger. Ethan is quick to react and slashes his knife towards the girl, slicing through her upper arm with a hiss.

You are quick to catch Sam as she falls back into you. She quickly recovers as she grasps her arm, now dripping with a familiar crimson liquid. Bailey's two minions begin to move around you, circling you as your anger finally comes spewing out of you; you step in front of Sam with rage filling your eyes. "You did all this as a family?" you yell at them incredulously. "Hell yeah, bitch! Sam should know why better than anyone!"

You immediately knew they were talking about Billy, yet the true origin of their motive still escaped you. What family had Sam ever hurt for them to hate her so much to go on a murderous rampage?

"They still haven't figured it out. Maybe we overestimated them." Ethan mocked as the confusion was clearly evident on your faces. Sam was the most confused of all, knowing that she had never done anything wrong. "I don't know what you believe, but I didn't commit the murders in Woodsboro…"

Bailey's laugh fills the theatre, slightly offended that Sam would think that they would believe some stupid internet rumour. Instead, he reveals that it was, in fact, Quinn who had started the malicious rumours, making life in New York for Sam absolute hell.

Each time you think the betrayal couldn't run any deeper, they manage to beat themselves yet again.

"You're a killer, just like your father was.". "I'm not…". "Yes, you are, you motherfucker! You killed our brother!". The gears could finally tick inside your heads as you looked between each other in an attempt to connect the dots. As far as you were aware, the only person Sam had ever 'killed' was… Richie.

Oh shit.

"You're Richie's family?" The realisation also struck Sam as her face sank. "Ding-ding-ding, now she's finally getting it." You shook your head in disbelief. A family seeking revenge for their dead son, okay, sure. Seeking revenge for a murderous psycho by killing his victims who had killed him out of self-defence? Too far.

Yet clearly, nothing was too far for this family, as Ethan revealed the sickening detail that they had killed their own mother because she had refused to avenge Richie. You knew all Ghostfaces were, on some level, psychotic, but this was getting insane.

"Great job with the parenting…" Tara quipped at Bailey, her words bringing the tiniest of smiles to your lips, her sarcasm never failing to entertain you, even if it's whilst you are surrounded by killers.

"You shut your whore mouth!" Quinn screamed at the girl, your jaw clenching at the insult as you looked at her, infuriated. The temptation to throw the brick in your hand at her face almost overcame you until you felt a gentle hand on your wrist.

"I loved my son. So I helped him build this collection." You shifted your gaze towards the older man as he looked amongst the exhibitions with a reminiscent smile. "All of this is Richies?"

The more you seemingly find out about Richie, the more Sam's expression seems to fall. The guilt she had felt after Woodsboro was reborn as her ignorance about her then-boyfriend increased tenfold.

Knowing that this was all Richie's made the space somehow more bone-chilling than before. As your eyes scanned the numerous exhibits, filled with items that belonged in an evidence box somewhere, a part of you pangs with guilt for the other siblings who were clearly the least favourite.

"This is where you have to die." Your attention is brought back to him as he redraws his gun and points it directly at Sam. Instinctively grabbing for Tara's hand, you spare Sam a quick glance, noticing her expression shift as she tilted her head at the man.

Oh, he was fucked.

"He was pathetic, you know?". You watched the deadpan expression on Bailey's face break. "That's not true…" he shook his head. "He was a man-baby who made his girlfriend do almost all the killing." You had to hold back your smile as you watched his facade breakdown. "He was a strong, virile young man!" "He was a weak little bitch who cried before I cut his fucking throat."

As the words leave Sam's mouth, Quinn lunges towards the three of you with a bloodcurdling scream. She is quickly and effortlessly stopped as Tara clocks her in the face with her brick. With teeth and blood flying out of her mouth, she falls to the floor.

A sign that their moment is finally over, your senses are heightened as Act 3 appears to finally kick off. Before you can make any moves, gunshots ring out from behind you as you turn to see Kirby apparently coming back from the dead.

Her resurgence doesn't last long as Ethan quickly rushes towards her with his knife ready in his hand. You're quick to follow the boy as he reaches Kirby and stabs her in the stomach. Finally reaching them as Kirby falls to the ground in pain, you run straight into Ethan, throwing him into the ground. He quickly gets back up and runs away with a maniacal laugh as you shift your focus back to Kirby.

Noticing the knife still sticking out of her stomach, you look at her with a grimace as you realise it's the only way you're gonna get a weapon anytime soon. "Sorry, but I need this." She gives you a small nod as she squeezes her eyes shut.

Gripping onto the handle, you pull the knife out swiftly in an attempt to minimise her pain. She howls in pain, and her hand grips on your arm, her nails digging into your skin as the wave of pain washes over her. Finally relaxing, she opens her eyes back up and looks at you with a tiny smile.

"Fuck 'em up."

As you stand up, you see Ethan reappear from behind a wall, his eyes set on you. Turning towards him, he begins to charge towards you with a sick grin still plastered on his face. "What are you gonna do, scar-face…" he calls out mockingly as he closes in.

That made you snap.

With a new vigour burning inside of you, you lunge towards him as you pull the knife above your head. With a loud grunt, you drive the knife down into his chest. His smile finally washes over his face as he looks at you surprised. Ignoring it, you continue to pump your knife in and out of his chest as if he were a piece of meat, his blood splattering all over you, but you couldn't care less.

Out of breath, you push his limp body off of you as he keels down with blood sputtering out of his mouth. Standing still, you look at his blood-covered body with laboured breathing. Noticing he is still alive, you move to stab him again until you hear your girlfriend's voice from behind you.

"Y/n!" she calls, your head instantly turning in her direction as you notice her beginning to climb the scaffolding behind her sister. Taking your chance, you quickly run towards them, weaving in and out of the display cases before you reach the base of the scaffolding.

Looking for a place to hold your knife, you settle on wiping it off on your shirt, adding to the mural of crimson colours, before placing the knife between your teeth.

As you begin climbing, the gash in your arm aches as new blood begins to flow from the wound. Biting painfully onto the knife, you continue your ascent as you see Tara at the top, reaching her hand down to you. Hearing noise behind you, you turn your head as you watch Bailey and Ethan begin to circle you like sharks, smelling your blood.

With a final grunt, you reach the top and grab Tara's hand as she helps pull you towards the balcony. Watching the two sisters scale across it in front of you, you take the time to try and settle your breathing, which is easier said than done when you're clutching a knife between your teeth.

Moving to follow them, you take the knife out of your mouth and carefully hand it to Tara. Climbing carefully along the railing, you are seconds from making it to safety with the others before another shot rings through the air.

A burning sensation instantly erupts in your leg as you lose your balance and fall backwards. Screaming your name, Sam and Tara barely manage to catch you as your hands barely grip the slippery railing.

Peering over your shoulder, you watch as Bailey moves towards a set of stairs and Ethan moves to stand directly underneath you. "Shit. Not good," you whisper to yourself as your gaze returns to the sisters' terrified looks.

With your injured arm weakening by the second, a noise from the balcony catches your attention as Quinn appears behind Sam, brandishing a bloodied knife in her hand. As Quinn moves towards her, she is forced to let go of your arm, and she turns to face her.

With Ethan taunting you from below and Quinn and Bailey closing in on the girls, you overcome your panic and realise it's your life or theirs.

"Tara, let me go". Your words cause the girl to look at you in shock. “No, I-” “Tara! Let me go.”. Your grip continues to slip as she looks at you as if you have lost your mind.

"Tara… Please." you give her a small smile as she looks at you with tears in her eyes. You watch as her lips begin to quiver, and you feel her grip loosen. Giving her a nod, she finally lets go of your wrists, causing you to plummet down from the balcony.

Turning your attention to the killer below you, you land with a loud bang, and your injured leg collapses beneath you. In an instant, Ethan is plunging his knife into your stomach, a meek whine escaping your lips as you bend over his arm. Twisting his knife inside of you, your loud cru echoes through the theatre as tears threaten your eyes.

Finally, bringing your head up to look at the boy, his smile sent a shiver down your spine as your breathing became more and more laboured. Just as you thought your time was coming to an end, another figure comes falling down from above you.

It was Tara.

Before you can say anything, she lands on her feet with a knife in her hand. Catching Ethan off-guard, she grips his hair and rips his head back. Looking at her with his mouth open, she lifts up her knife and plunges it into the back of his throat. You can hear him gargling on his own blood as she twists the knife, blood splattering on her face.

"Now die a fucking virgin."

Pushing him so that he falls to the ground with a thud, Tara quickly averts her attention back to you, who, to her surprise, was wearing a smirk on her lips. "That was really hot." you chuckled in pain as she kneeled down next to you, noticing the knife was still in your abdomen.

"Shut up," she said before moving to lie you down. Knowing she was about to pull it out, you exhaled shakily before nodding at her, and just like you did Kirby, she pulled the knife out quickly, earning a pained groan from you, before immediately applying pressure to your wound.

Gently removing her hand from your stomach, you move to sit up and attempt to ignore how her hand is now stained with your blood. Making into an upright position, you look at Tara, who is scanning you for any other wounds, whilst you watch her face with a tender gaze.

The bang of a gunshot, followed by the thud of a body that vibrated the creaky floors above your head, brought you both back to the situation you were in. "Help me up," you say quickly, urgently trying to get up and help Sam, presuming it wasn't her body that you heard fall.

As Tara wrapped her arm around your waist gently, she pulled you to your feet; the faint sound of Sam's voice talking to someone calms your nerves. The throbbing from your bullet and stab wound was a rude awakening as to the shape you were in, not to mention the blood that covered almost every inch of your body.

Before the two of you could move towards the stairs, the sound of screaming rang through the theatre as you both looked up. Your jaw dropped. Bailey and Sam came flying over the railing before plummeting into the displays beneath them. As the glass shattered beneath them, you were quick to notice their lack of movement.

Pulling Tara off of you, you pushed her towards her sister. Running to her side, you hobbled as fast as you could towards them. Thankfully, Tara had managed to shake her awake by the time you got there. As she helped Sam to her feet, you sighed in relief as you looked over at a still motionless Bailey.

As the sisters check over each other, your sights remain on the unconscious killer in front of you. "What are we gonna do about him?" you ask, nodding your head in his direction.

You watch as the gears turn in Sam's head, weighing the options between ending it now and letting him die somewhat peacefully or giving him a taste of his own medicine.

She chose the latter.

Hidden behind the curtains on the side of the stage, you watched Bailey through a small slit, waiting for him to move in order to signal Sam that your plan was in action.

It was simple, really. Make him go crazy, and then you kill him.

After a few minutes, Bailey finally began to stir as he moved to sit up. You quickly poked your head around the corner into the hidden hallway, where Sam was standing in her father's costume; you gave her a nod before she pulled a phone out of her pocket and pulled it to her ear.

The sound of Bailey's phone ringing echoed through the now disturbingly quiet theatre. Repositioning yourself so that you can see him, you watch as he rapidly looks around him before standing and bringing his phone to his ear.

You can't hear what Sam is saying to him, but you watch him make his way to the stage as planned. "Oh yeah, what's that?" his voice grows louder as he finally appears on the stage.

Now, the fun part.

As planned, from your place on the ground, you reached your uninjured leg out and kicked a floorboard. Before you could even retract your leg, Bailey snapped towards the noise and fired two precise shots into the heads of the mannequins that lined the stage.

"You put on your true face, huh? Your birthright. Poetic that you're going to die in it…" Exhaling quietly as he spoke, you moved to a spot against a wall where you could relax your weakening body for a minute as Tara played her part.

A noise sounded from the other side of the stage. Closing your eyes as you leaned your head back onto the wall, you listened as Bailey once again flinched and fired his gun, this time the sound of shattering glass filling the stage.

"You know the truth now. Murder's in your blood."

It was your turn again. As quietly as you could in your state, you reached your arm over to the brick that Sam had given you. Picking it up, with the strength left in your arms, you threw it into the back corner of the stage, away from you.

The sound of Bailey's gun firing once again filled the air as he screamed frustratedly, "Stop fucking around and show yourself!". Knowing that it was Sam's turn, you quietly crawled towards the curtain, pulling it aside slightly so that you could peer through.

"I'm a fucking police officer! What are you gonna do, huh? Who do you think they're gonna believe?" he screams once again. A faint smile lands on your lips as you watch Sam appears behind him, wearing the mask and all. Before he even notices her presence, she quickly spins him around before, as you would put it, stabbing the shit out of him.

As crazy as it sounded to say, the sound of his screams was like music to your ears. His family had singlehandedly taken everything from you, so watching him suffer was like heaven to you.

Spotting Tara appear from behind her hiding spot and walking towards Sam, you decided to do the same. With a groan and the help of a wall, you pulled yourself to your feet before weakly hobbling out from your place behind the curtains.

As Sam finally stops stabbing him, and he pleads for his life, you watch with a mixture of admiration and concern, confused as to why she is giving him any chance to live.

She didn't entertain it for long.

"But you did fuck with my family, so…". You watch with wide eyes as Sam gruesomely stabs him straight in his eye, the blade clearly reaching his brain as he falls to the ground, twitching.

"Aw, now we're matching." you joke, earning a laugh from the girls as you look at the mutilated body of the once detective who now also had only one functional eye - had he been alive, that is.

"Let's get out of here," Tara says softly as she grasps your hand with hers. Her touch never fails to make you giddy, but something was off this time. As she tried to pull you towards the stairs off the stage, your head began to spin uncontrollably as a wave of nausea hit you like a truck.

Your legs collapse underneath you as Tara catches you, her face ridden with worry. "Y/n?!? Hey, you're okay, just breathe.". Your vision was fading in and out of a blur as the feeling of your limbs began to escape you. Sam kneels down on the other side of you, matching Tara's expression, as you try to nod to Tara's words.

"Yeah… I just… need a little break." Your eyes begin to flutter shut as you try your best to keep them open. "Keep your eyes open for me, okay," Tara speaks as calmly as she can as she notices the blood beginning to spill from your wounds again.

“Yeah… of course…”

Opening your eyes slowly, you groan softly as the bright light hanging above you stings your eyes. Carefully rubbing your eyes, still careful of your scar, you move to sit up slightly, noticing you are in an empty hospital room. Confusion washes over you, as last you remember, you were on a bloodied stage, and yet here you were.

Doing your best with your aching limbs, you move a pillow behind your back in order to give you a better view of your new environment, admittedly much nicer than your previous one.

Scanning the room, you notice the small TV in the corner of the room is playing The Babadook. You know you didn't put it on, so someone must be here, and it's not particularly hard to figure out who it must be.

With your attention focused on the screen, you fail to notice when Tara walks in the door with a bag of chips in her hand. As she notices your moving figure, a loud gasp escapes her lips. She drops everything in her hands to cover her mouth, her eyes immediately watering.

The sound makes you immediately turn to her, a smile growing on your lips as your eyes meet hers. As the fact that you are awake and alive sinks in, she runs over to the side of your bed and brings her hands up to your face.

Gently cupping your cheeks, her teary eyes look into yours as your hands gently grip her wrists. "Hi," you chuckle softly, the wave of relief finally hitting you. "Hi," she chuckles back even softer, her eyes scanning every detail of your face.

"Is everyone okay?" you ask with furrowed brows as she nods enthusiastically in response. "Yeah, yeah, we're all fine.". The sigh that escapes your lips rids your mending body stress, all of it melting away as soon as you know you have all made it.

Your eyes return to Tara's as she whispers softly, "I can't believe you're alive.". You smile sincerely at her words. "I'm not going anywhere." At your words, she lets go of your face and climbs onto your bed. Your eyes were filled with curiosity. You watch as she wraps her arms around your neck and buries her head in your shoulder.

Instantly reciprocating, you wrap your arms around her waist and hug her with all the strength you can muster. You can feel her tears falling onto your bare shoulder, entangling one of your hands in her hair as you gently play with her hair.

"We made it, Tara. We made it."

Tag-list:@nitchxhdc @emeraldevan @looseheartedlady @the-night-owl-blr @badassjaguar @txmxav @oh-thats-cute @blckrwidow @cacciatricediartemide @flaiire1805 @rainbow-love4ever @fall-08 @simp4nat @natashadeservedmore @livingforwaddams @alexkolax @ssinfulprayers @wifeyjennaortega@thenextdawn @zhasmindoesntknow @faunusrubyrose @harleyspunchingbag @yourmamacom@rockwyn @androgynouscloudenemy@padf00ts-l0ver @wol-fica @captainbeat @sophiexoxo-lol@perfectartisanwerewolf @pedrosprincess @dark-hunter16 @daenerys713 @dksjskx @blazemaster4014 @l4venderia @marsyay78 @edearx0 @randomnessbecausewhynot @pixielovers2account @buba424 @niqmandu @karsonromanoff @spidey-beans

#tara carpenter x reader #tara carpenter x fem reader #tara carpenter imagine #tara carpenter #jenna ortega x fem reader #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega #scream 6 #scream VI #scream #the quiet one #simp4wom3n

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prythianpages · 5 months

Text

The Night Azriel helped her heal

azriel x rhysand's sister (oc)

warnings: fluff and some angst at the end, tamlin makes an appearance

summary: Valeria's injuries have healed but there are two aches that linger and Azriel is admanant in bringing back her light.

A/N: this is an imagine among my collection that follow Rhysand's sister, Valeria. while I'm still working on them, you can find the masterlist for it here. I know I said this would be the last one but I decided there has been too much angst and thought we needed some fluff in between (:

Valeria stood at the edge of the balcony, her gaze fixed on the vast expanse below. She hesitated and took a couple steps back.

“I��m scared.”

A scarred hand reached for hers, stopping her from retreating any further. Her gaze traveled up until she met Azriel’s gentle gaze. His presence was reassuring as he stood beside her.

It had been a little over a month since the incident in Windhaven. Her wing had healed thanks to Madja’s healing hands, leaving only the trace of a scar. Madja had told her that she’d be able to fly again once it properly healed but it provided little comfort to her as the memories of that night tormented her every night. What if Madja was wrong?

Valeria felt her hand grow clammy within Azriel’s grasp and she instinctively started to withdraw but Azriel tightened his hold instead. His thumb rubbed soothing circles onto the back of her palm.

“What if I fall?”

Azriel’s chest tightened. He hated the fear in her voice, the uncertainty that clouded her eyes. He hated the effect those men still had on her but he was determined to prove her wrong, to bring back her confidence. He gave her a gentle smile.

“I’ll catch you.” He replied but was then quick to add: “But you won’t need me to.”

“Okay.” Valeria breathed as she faced the edge of the balcony again and stepped forward.

Azriel gave her a gentle squeeze before releasing her hand, taking a couple of steps back to allow her space. The cool breeze of Azriel’s shadows whispered around them, and the moon cast a silvery glow upon the world below. Her wings unfurled behind her, a display of midnight hues stretching wide. The full weight of them brought an ache to her injured wing.

Her heart fluttered in her chest and she took another deep breath. She heard the distinct sound of Azriel’s wings as he extended them. They casted a shadow behind her smaller form and brought her further comfort. He would be right behind her.

Before her thoughts could convince her otherwise, she jumped off the balcony of the House of Wind. She winced at the discomfort from her scarred wing and she struggled to balance herself in the air. Her descent became a panicked fall but only for a fleeting moment. She pushed past the discomfort and extended her wings further, gaining control and finding her balance within the air as she glided.

Then, she was flying.

Her heart still fluttered against her chest but it was no longer anxiety that quickened it. It danced to the familiar melody of excitement as the adrenaline that usually accompanied her when flying coursed through her veins.

Azriel was flying at her side and he extended his hand, an invitation to soar through the night together. She accepted, their fingers intertwining and a smile gracing her lips that had Azriel’s own heart fluttering at the sight.

As they soared higher, they weaved through the outlines of clouds and Valeria laughed as one particular cloud had Azriel grimacing. The stars in her violet eyes had returned, dispelling any lingering fear she had. A mischievous glimmer was among them as she let go of Azriel’s hand.

“Catch me?”

“Always.”

Azriel told himself he would stop seeking moments alone with her, making sure that there was always someone else present. He could hardly resist himself around her. His control around her was slim to none and it was dangerous. He decided to spend the night at the House of Wind after one of his missions to keep himself from visiting Valeria’s room at the moonstone palace but as he had retreated to his room for the night, he could sense her presence in the same house. He could feel her fear too.

When his shadows brought him to her, he had found her at one of the balconies. She had not hidden her wings to allow them to properly heal and he had noticed the subtle twitch of them as she gazed longingly at the starry sky.

He allowed her a couple of moments to give her a head start and then he was soaring after her, a wave of affection and warmth surging through him as her laughter echoed in the crisp night air.

“What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same.” Valeria replied as she walked into the dining area. The house switched out the chair beside Cassian’s for one that had no back to accommodate her wings. She smiled in thanks as she took a seat beside Cassian.

Cassian ruffled her hair with a fond smile, earning himself a glare. He chuckled in response and then stuffed his mouth with scrambled eggs. “Where else can I enjoy a free and delicious breakfast?”

A plate full of her favorite breakfast food, french toast and fruit appeared in front of her along with a hot cup of coffee. She took delight in the scent of cinnamon and dark sugar. The house of wind had remembered the way she enjoyed her coffee.

“The Moonstone palace felt suffocating.”

“You should’ve brought Mor with you so you wouldn’t be alone or let me know. I would’ve stayed the night here.”

“I wasn’t alone.” Valeria said mindlessly.

Cassian opened his mouth to ask, wondering if Rhysand had joined her, but he found his answer at the sound of approaching footsteps.

“Good morning, Az.” His eyes narrowed as Azriel silently took the seat across from him. “You didn’t tell me you were staying here.”

Azriel speared a piece of meat on his plate with his fork. “I didn’t know I had to inform you of my whereabouts.”

Cassian rose a brow at Azriel’s snappy tone.

“I’m going to continue training.”

Silence fell. Azriel hastily swallowed a big bite of his food, and Cassian’s eyes widened slightly, both momentarily taken aback by Valeria’s outburst. Blinking at her in unison, they turned their full attention to Valeria, who set her fork down to explain herself.

“Although it was my training that led to the–” Valeria grimaced as her mind searched for the right word”--incident, it was my training and powers that saved me. I want to be better.”

Valeria had done a lot of thinking while she was healing. Cassian and Azriel didn’t get to check up on her as they had wished as they were bombarded with tasks. Perhaps, this was another form of punishment from her father or punishment toward Cassian and Azriel for harboring her secret. Mor, Rhysand and her mother took turns attending to her bedside but the moments she was alone, her mind inevitably drifted to thoughts of the Illyrian males she killed and the way their voices and screams followed her, even after their deaths. She had let Rhysand into her mind and showed him everything. He had paled as he lived through her memory himself and afterwards, he had promised he would help her harness her powers and if she was up to it, he would help her continue to train.

“I don’t feel remorse for killing them.”

She replayed the haunting memories of that night hundreds of times. It was scary and shocking at first–the mere fact that she was capable of killing. She surprisingly didn’t feel guilty over their deaths. She didn't feel anything. Sure, they had families but they weren’t innocent. They had a long history of abusing the females of Windhaven, her best friend included, and of clipping their wings. They had attacked her. She would do it again if she had to.

“Good.”

“They deserved it.” Cassian nodded, agreeing with Azriel. “But what about–”

“I can’t continue training with the Valkyries but I can still train here. Rhysand offered to teach me. He already managed to convince the High Lord.” Valeria interrupted. Her expression turned sullen and her wings slouched behind her. “At least the High Lord listens to him.”

Her father had not been happy that Rhysand had intervened in her punishment but other than a glare, he had not reprimanded Rhysand, even though he had taken full blame for killing the Illyrian males. He misted the bodies away to hide the evidence of their true nature of death. Her brother thought it was best to keep her abilities and powers hidden for now, fearing that if their father knew, he would take advantage of Valeria.

“I’ll join in training you.”

Valeria lifted her gaze and met Azriel’s.

“I think it’d be best if I helped train her.” Cassian said, sending Azriel a glare.

“Please don’t feel obligated to do so. I have already asked enough from you by forcing you to keep my secret.” Valeria replied, her gaze shifting between the two males, a sense of confusion settling in. Why were they glaring at each other? Had she missed something?

“It’s settled then.” Cassian tore his gaze away from Azriel. “We’ll both join Rhys for your training. When are you starting?”

Valeria grinned. “Later on in the evening. Rhys is bringing that guy from Spring since he’s taken him under his wing. What was his name again? Tamarind or something.”

“Tamlin.” Azriel corrected, his stomach churning at the name as his shadows reminded him of the Spring court’s youngest son and the way he had looked at Valeria during the High Lord Dinner. He rose from his seat. “I have to go and take care of some assignments now if I want to make it back in time.”

As he strolled toward the exit, passing by Valeria, he didn’t miss a beat and leant down to plant a gentle kiss on her cheek. Cassian’s glare reappeared but quickly transformed into a look of pure shock as Azriel, sporting a smirk, replicated the gesture on his cheek.

Azriel left without uttering another word, his shadows trailing behind him.

“Did he just–”

“Yup.” Valeria stifled a giggle behind her hand, fingers pressed against her cheek to conceal the rising blush. “What do you have planned for the morning?”

“I have to return to Windhaven and speak with the other generals in an hour or two.”

“Lovely.” Valeria replied with a mischievous grin. “Then, you have enough time to accompany me to the library and visit a dear old friend.”

Cassian’s body tensed and he shot her a wry look. He then cleared his throat, feigning nonchalance. He stood from his seat. “You know what, I think I should actually get going now.”

"Bryaxis asked about you," Valeria murmured, her fingers deftly weaving through Cassian's long hair as she fashioned it into a braid. Despite his initial request for a bun, she had convinced him that a braid was more practical for training. It was an argument made on a whim when the truth was, she simply enjoyed braiding his hair. Rhysand and Azriel’s hair was too short. “He misses you.”

Seated on the training grounds, Cassian paused in his task of sharpening Valeria's dagger, giving her a bemused side-eye.

Her laughter bubbled forth, and she playfully tapped his shoulder, signaling the completion of her handiwork. Her day had consisted of helping out in the library but she hadn’t visited Bryaxis at all.

Azriel stepped out from the shadows on the rooftop of the House of Wind, his shadows melding seamlessly with the surroundings. The smirk on his face was evidence that he had been lingering longer than he let show. “Don’t scare him like that, Val. He might just piss his pants again.”

Cassian withdrew from Valeria, rising to his feet with an abrupt motion. He shot her a pointed glare that had Valeria turning to Azriel. She raised her eyebrows silently questioning him.

"You promised it would remain our secret!" Cassian exclaimed. He was then raising the sleeve of his leathers up, revealing the small intricate tattoo of a crescent moon and sword overlapping one another that had etched itself onto his skin after he had caught her training with the Valkyries.

A bargain had been struck that night–a secret for a secret–as Valeria knew that the only way to keep him quiet was to bring back the embarrassing memory of Cassian and Valeria’s encounter with the darkness that lurked within the library. His tattoo matched the one at her side, near her ribcage and for many years, it remained often hidden by her clothes. Of course Azriel had noticed her tattoo one night and driven by curiosity, he had sneakily extracted the truth out of her in a way that didn’t dishonor her bargain.

“Does this mean nothing to you?”

“Cas–”

A sudden gust of wind swept through the training grounds, accompanied by the melody of wings slicing through the air. Rhysand appeared alongside a hawk, both of their keen eyes scanning the scene. Valeria appeared flustered, Cassian was sulking and Azriel wore a smug demeanor. Rhysand touched down on the ground with a questioning look. “Do I want to know?”

“No.” Both Cassian and Valeria replied in unison, whipping their heads to Rhysand with matching glares as they felt the subtle intrusion of his talons attempting to slip into their minds.

Their attention then shifted to the hawk just in time to see it transform into a high fae form. A male emerged from the blinding gold light, greeting them with a shy hello.

“Tamlin, you’ve met these fools before.” Rhysand remarked, nodding his head toward his sister and friends. “Val, Cas and Az.”

“Drop and give me thirty.”

Valeria gaped at her brother who smirked at her in return. He reached forward, using a finger to close her mouth. “You think just because I am your brother I’ll go easy in training you?”

With a huff, Valeria complied with the training exercise. Tamlin joined her while Cassian and Azriel continued their own stretches and exercises. Much to her dismay, her warm up did not end after her push ups. Rhysand had her and Tamlin running around the training grounds with a variety of demanding exercises.

The exhaustion was beginning to settle in and Valeria’s breaths came in labored gasps by the time Rhysand tossed her a sword. Her only relief was that Tamlin appeared to be more winded than her. Rhysand allowed him to sit on one of the benches and take a break as he was a beginner.

The glint of steel caught the sunlight as it began to set. Valeria readied herself for the next phase of the training, her muscles burning with effort. The air was charged with an energy of determination. She pushed past her exhaustion against Rhysand’s strike.

She was agile and fierce, dancing through her maneuvers. Rhysand, equally formidable, moved with a grace that mirrored her own. Amidst the sparring, Tamlin found himself drawn to Valeria’s prowess. His eyes involuntarily followed her every move, captivated by the fluidity of her motions.

Valeria was unaware of the attention, her focus solely on refining her skills. Azriel, always perceptive, noticed Tamlin’s lingering gaze, lips pressed into a taut line. His fleeting moment of distraction resulted in Cassian landing a blow to his side, knocking the wind out of him.

The moon was shining upon them when Valeria finally bested her brother with a triumphant grin. She dropped her sword, letting it clatter onto the grounds. Glasses of cold, refreshing water appeared on one of the empty benches and Valeria made her way to them, murmuring a small thanks to the house.

“You’re good.”

Valeria turned around to find Tamlin. “Thanks.”

“I can’t help but ask why you train?” His voice carried genuine curiosity. “Shouldn’t you–”

“Be off learning how to be a good wife instead?” She interrupted.

Tamlin’s green eyes were widening. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“It’s okay.” Valeria softly chuckled, shrugging her shoulders. “I train because I simply want to.”

The night continued on with another hour of training. When Valeria had settled herself onto the training grounds, her muscles were screaming. Rhysand was instructing Tamlin and showing him a couple of Illyrian methods but Valeria’s attention was focused on Cassian and Azriel sparring. They had stripped off their shirts and Valeria couldn’t help but admire the glisten to Azriel’s sweaty skin and the every movement of his muscles.

The soft glow of faelight filled the room as Valeria stepped out from her bathroom, her aching muscles slightly soothed by the hot bath the house had drawn for her. She approached the piano in her room, the exact same model as the one she had back at the Moonstone palace. There was another in one of the living room of the house as it was a necessity for her wherever she stayed. The instrument, once a source of solace and joy, now seemed to echo the void left by the absence of her beloved bird, Noctis. Her fingers ghosted over the keys in hesitation. She hadn’t played since his death.

A knock on her door had her turning away from the piano. She opened the door slightly, eyes widening when she found Azriel standing on the other side. She hadn’t expected him to visit. While Rhysand had gone to drop Tamlin off, he had planned to also spend the night at the house. His hands were behind his back as he shifted his weight from one foot to another.

“I have something for you.”

“For me?” She echoed curiously. Stepping back, she welcomed him inside, making sure to shut the door behind him. When she turned to face Azriel again, one of his hands was nervously rubbing at his neck while the other remained behind his back.

“This was meant to be your birthday present but it wasn’t ready in time.” Azriel said, his gaze flickering toward the piano in her room before meeting hers again. “I was going to give it to you when I saw you next at the Moonstone palace but I didn’t expect to find you here last night so...”

“What is it?” Valeria asked, leaning over to catch a glimpse of what he hid in his hand. The air between them carried a mix of anticipation and unspoken emotions.

With a timid smile, Azriel brought his hand forward, revealing a delicate jewelry box adorned with intricate carvings reminiscent of the ink on his skin. Her violet eyes glimmered in surprise as he presented his second gift to her. The first had been a beautiful pair of sapphire earrings.

Accepting the box into her hands, she marveled at its size, now appearing larger in her grasp than in his. Opening it, she uncovered a miniature figure inside. It was not just a jewelry box but a music box as well. A beautifully painted raven, a replica of Noctis, was perched on the tiny stage within. As the lid lifted, a familiar melody filled the air–the very tune Valeria and Noctis used to sing together.

“How?” She whispered.

“I know the melody by heart and found someone to help me record it. I crafted the box myself, which is why I couldn’t finish it in time. I wanted it to be perfect.”

Her breath caught as she traced the delicate details of the music box. Warmth flooded her heart. Azriel, always attuned to her emotions, knew. Despite not seeing each other often the past couple of weeks, he knew that the piano, once a shared sanctuary for Valeria and Noctis, now held bittersweet memories that seemed to weigh on her heart. He was determined to help her heal and bring back the joy to her life, recognizing that music and flying were among her greatest pleasures.

Tears welled in her eyes and Azriel’s shadows were curling against his ears. His eyebrows furrowed as he hesitantly asked, "Do you not like it?"

“It’s perfect.” Valeria shook her head, a radiant smile breaking through her tears. "I love it."

Azriel, relieved and touched by her genuine appreciation, found himself caught in the vulnerability of the moment. His hand caressed her face and as their eyes locked, they shared a tender gaze– a silent acknowledgment of the emotions that lingered deep within them. He ignored the warning bells in his head, pushed past Cassian’s warning voice. He was already breaking his self-imposed rule of being alone with her.

Just for this one more moment, he told himself.

He leant down to match her height and tenderly peppered her face with kisses, each one a gentle reassurance that he would always care for her. As he kissed away the tears that escaped her eyes, she pressed herself closer to him and he embraced the forbidden sweetness of their stolen moments, fearing that the day they’d have to come to a full stop.

They remained in each other’s arms for a while longer until Azriel’s shadows were standing taut and alerting him of Rhysand’s return. It was only then that he pulled away and whispered a soft “goodnight, Val” as the sweet melody of the jewelry box slowly faded into the quiet night.

The next morning, Valeria found herself drawn to the piano once more. This time, the melancholy had lifted. As her fingers danced across the keys, Azriel could hear from his room, content in knowing that he had helped mend the fragments of her broken song.

A/N: i'm assuming since Tamlin can shift into a beast, he can also shift into other animals? I only included the hawk thing bc I found it too funny if Rhys was carrying Tamlin lol. the song I imagined Val and Noctis to sing a lot is David Bowie's As the World Falls Down. It's such a beautiful song and I feel like it captures a desire to escape from reality, which is fitting for Az and Val. Here's a music box version of it, if you're curious. the next part will be the last imagine before I start on the storyline but there will probably be more additions in the future like cas and val meeting bryaxis and maybe more moments between her and cas

tag list: @justrepostandlove , @kemillyfreitas, @thelov3lybookworm

#azriel shadowsinger #azriel #azriel fluff #azriel x reader #azriel x rhysand's sister #azriel x oc #azriel imagine #acotar #acotar imagine #acotar x reader #acotar fic #azriel fanfic #rhysand's sister #acosm

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arcielee · 2 months

Text

We gave our time to something undefined

Summary: Aemond receives a late night visitor. Paring: Aemond Targaryen x Rhaena Targaryen Word Count: 2.7k+ Warnings: Kissing, oral (f receiving), fingering, loss of virginity, and Aemond is still the consent king 👑. Author's Note: This is part 2 of Quietly, it slips through your fingers though I may do a third, as they have me hostage Gif edit by the wonderful @myfandomprompts. A big thank you to my beloved @aemondsbabe for being my beta reader and helping me hone my craft. Also ñuhon is Valyrian for mine, and sȳz riña is good girl, but I trust you all already know that one. 😈

Aemond was poised in front of the fireplace, dressed in cotton sleeping trousers and a tunic that was unbuttoned to his navel; his silver hair was slung over his shoulder in a low braid. A golden hue spilled from the hearth and washed over his practiced stoicism, his one eye trained to the flames that were crackling and curling around the blackened logs.

His arm was stretched on the rest, his fingers drumming a slow rhythm to battle how his heart was still rattling against his ribs; his other was bent, fingers pressed into his prominent chin. He swore he could still smell the remnants of the heaven he had touched earlier, something that was both sweet and intoxicating, something that now consumed him wholly.

He thought back to earlier that night, to after he had torn away from the small hall, his heated steps leading him throughout the corridors in a desperate search for an exit that would bring him outside of King’s Landing. He knew that Vhagar would be awaiting him, the she-dragon keenly aware of her rider’s agitation. Aemond longed to climb aback of her, to tear over the night sky, as if his ire could only be sated by dragonback.

Or so he initially thought.

He could not say what had stopped him—perhaps the low rumble of his nuncle. It pulled him to watch from the shadows as Daemon and his daughter, Baela, took their turns to growl at one another about the night’s events.

Rhaena was also present, also watching.

She was a woman now, with the same quiet confidence Aemond recalled as he watched her observe her father and her sister. He noted that she did not meet with their bravado on display, but instead remained watchful; her head tilted slightly with a flicker of amusement across her lovely features.

It reminded Aemond of Driftmark, all those years ago when everyone gathered to grieve, to pay their respects for Lady Laena. He was only a boy but still aware of the heavy sadness in her eyes that absorbed everything around her. He recalled when her gaze fell to him, how it rooted him to the stone. Rhaena watched at his failed attempt to try and speak from his heart; she did not scowl, but merely held a clear curiosity for whatever he had to say.

Instead, his tongue thickened and he walked away, the grief unsaid.

How quickly her expression changed later that night, how her lovely eyes burned with betrayal when he sauntered back, covered in ash, dragonless no more—

“—I know Dark Sister sings for blood,” and the taunting words brought Aemond back to see Baela squaring off towards Daemon. At that same moment, Rhaena noticed him, as if she was drawn to how his blood now burned in his veins.

Aemond stalked away, quickly and quietly, his ire rekindled. He thought of the patronizing expression that had shown in the lines of Daemon’s face. Arrogance will weigh the dragon down, his sister often sang; Aemond only scoffed at the thought.

You have lived too long, nuncle.

He heard the footfalls echoing behind, though he did not think they would follow him out to the terrace. Aemond planted his palms to the cool stone of the balustrade, greeted by the sea breeze and the distant rumble of Vhagar. He then felt her presence, that same curiosity from long ago.

You are lost, princess.

Aemond wished to frighten her, but she did not balk, but remained stance, facing him just as Baela had Daemon. Her gaze was unwavering, analyzing, almost desperate to see what was underneath. His fingers itched to show her, removing the eyepatch but even then she responded in a way that he never thought possible.

There was no pity to be found, just a genuine remorse that left him shattered—the softness and the warmth of her lips against his marred side, his skin prickling from her touch.

Back in his room, Aemond could feel the warmth emitting from the embers in front of him, or perhaps it was from the memory of what had followed that kiss, of how she fit against his chest, of how she looked up at him unabashed, unafraid, unwilling to leave him.

His fingers flexed, balling back into a fist, still feeling the ghost pulse of her erratic heartbeat from the pleasure he had pulled from her…

His blood simmered, but a soft tap on his door brought his mind back into his room. Aemond moved, a flash of silver to welcome the distraction. When he opened the door, Rhaena slipped in; she was quick to pull it closed behind her, her back pressing against the oak, breathless.

His every nerve was alight as he drank in the sight of her–her deep breaths, the rise and fall of her chest, her lithe curves pressing the pastel silk of her nightdress and her skin peering through the matching silk robe hastily pulled over. Her silver locs had been knotted back into a long braid, accompanied with a pleasant scent of rose water.

Her eyes held the same look from earlier, wide and glassy, uncertain but also unwilling to leave.

Aemond swallowed.

You came, he wished to say, but his arrogance won his tongue. “So soon, princess?”

I had to see you, she did not reply, but instead her face shifted into a coy facade. “You told me to come find you if I wished to find satisfaction…”

Her words ignited something within him and Aemond closed the space between them. His one palm grabbed her hip and the other moved to touch her jaw, gently tilting her head to claim her lips just as he had out on the terrace. Her trepidation from before was gone, now replaced with a warm familiarity as her tongue curled in rhythm with his own.

Aemond hummed his pleasure and Rhaena pulled him closer until he melded against her, the surge of fire meeting fire with a burning desperation. She gasped softly and he deepened the kiss, drawing the air from her aching lungs. His leg shifted between her thighs with a pressure that made her mewl, softly, sweetly. It trilled the length of his spine, his cock throbbing against the seams of his slacks.

He pulled back and reached for her hand, her fingers lacing as though they belonged in his grasp. She followed quietly as he pulled her towards the bed, a giggle spilling, gleeful. Then Aemond paused and turned to face her again; his large hands moved to cradle her jaw, holding her gaze, and her skin rippled with gooseflesh from the contrast of his gentle touch and the roughness of his palms.

“This will only go as far as you wish it too,” his voice was low, his words tinged with a fear that she would simply change her mind and leave.

But instead hope bloomed with the flutter of her lashes, her lips curling into a smile as she stepped closer to capture his lips. Her hands knotted into the loose fabric of his tunic and she pulled him closer still, smiling. Aemond thrummed from the taste of passion, tilting her head to savor the kiss.

The silk she had been wearing was now a puddle at her feet, and Aemond discarded his tunic, his hands pausing at the waistband of his pants. He looked at Rhaena, watching her carefully, the black now swallowing the blues and the purples of his one intensive eye, an amber gleam flickering in the sapphire of his other.

Her smile remained as she took a step back, resting on the edge of the bed. She did not look away from him as his eye trailed over her soft curves, admiring the golden glow of the fire on her brown skin, how it rose with the night air, her nipples pebbling in response.

Beautiful, he does not say but instead swallowed to wet his throat. “That bastard does not deserve you,” his rasped confession wrenched from his lungs.

Only then did she look at her hands resting on her plush thighs, and offered a soft hum in return. The boldness that had brought her to his room continued her motion, her hands reaching to grab the waistband of his slacks, her fingers precariously placed above the heady bulge that pressed against the crotch.

He felt his blood roaring to stain his cheeks as her eyes washed over his bare body, trailing the silver scars now displayed, the lines that cut into his trim waist before she met with his gaze again. Aemond allowed himself a step closer, a heavy sway, moving between her parted thighs until he was close enough for her to softly touch his unmarred side, until he could feel her breathless whisper hot against his skin–

“Then claim me.”

And he burned with how each syllable dripped with the honey that spilled from her kiss-swollen lips. “Aōhon ynot sahās,” she said, her eyes locking onto him.

Make me yours.

His hand covered her own, turning his head until his lips feathered the pulse of her wrist. “Ñuhon,” he growled against her skin, mine, and then he pushed forward until she melted into the mattress, lifting her legs and welcoming him into the cradle of her hips.

His mouth was hot, ravenous, only allowing her a moment to breathe when he moved his attention to the curve of her jaw and to her neck. His teeth nipped at her skin, leaving dark plumes of color in his wake.

He could feel her trembling beneath him, her head falling back with a gasp. “Aemond!”

It was his siren song, those sweet sounds from the terrace. They remained with his steps that brought him back to his room, echoing in his mind until it curdled the marrow of his bones, a dull ache that knotted his lower organs. He wished to draw those same sounds but with his tongue; his hands pressed to open her thighs further, and he sank between them to place an intimate kiss that made her shudder in response.

She was slick, a taste divine, and his tongue trailed between her folds until he felt her hands knotting in his hair. He feasted between her thighs with a hold that dimpled the softness of her skin, anchoring himself to her core. Aemond pulled her towards a new plateau of pleasure with his mouth, his tongue laving until she tried to writhe away.

Her back arched with the expanse of her chest begging for air, her hands moving for fistfuls of bed linen to ground herself. Her lips parted with a wordless cry as his dexterous fingers curled within her. “Aemond,” she panted, panicked, but he touched her with familiarity, feeling how her every fiber sang for him: heart thrumming, muscles tensing, desperate for more.

Aemond hummed against her cunt and the low vibration caused a soft cry, a pulse of her velvet walls around his fingers. “Sȳz riña,” he murmured, adding another finger that met with the tandem of his first. His tongue returned to carve through her sweet lips with an unrelenting pace that pulled her towards her peak.

It shuddered throughout her, a sob spilling that Aemond moved to muffle with a kiss, his praises soothing against her lips: “Sȳz riña, sȳz riña.” He melted into her warmth, her body pliant and molded against him. His arms caged her to the bed and his cock twitched, the heat from her bare cunt calling and pulling him closer.

Rhaena squirmed beneath him, and he tried to lift his weight but her nails bit into his waist, stopping him. “Aemond,” she was breathless, almost begging. “Please, I–” but she faltered to find her words. He could feel her pulse still fluttering against his chest, and she swallowed thickly.

“Aōhon ynot sahās,” she repeated, a desperation now touching her tone.

Aemond felt his heart seize in his chest, and he tilted his head for a gentle kiss. “We will begin slowly,” his voice rasped with his reserve, “I promise.”

She nodded and he was careful to slot his slender hips between her thighs, his swollen cock heavy and pressing against one side. She sighed, and he looked to see her drunken smile splayed on her lips as he nestled against her. His arm weaved between to guide himself, and she tensed from the unfamiliar pressure, his swollen head sliding through her folds and lining with her entrance.

A muscle ticked in his jaw with his concentration, his slow thrusts sinking into her warmth with a shuddering halt when his hips met with hers. Aemond then stilled, watchful, worried, seeing how her face was clouded. He moved to kiss her, his body shifting against hers, and she let out a small noise that he swallowed.

“Rhaena…”

Her eyes fixated on him, and he felt the fire in her veins pressing towards the surface. Her head nodded yes, a whispered, “Kostilus,” please, and only then did his hips begin to move. Her tension began to fall away with his slow rut, his rhythm continuing. She mewled softly, canting her hips to meet the snap of his own, sparking something different, something deeper, and he felt her tighten around him.

Aemond hummed, and his pace quickened with the lewd sound of skin-to-skin. The heat curling in his core began to spread under his skin, a bowstring taut to nearly snap at the sound of her breathless cries, the pulsing of her velvet walls that pulled him after.

He groaned, his hip stuttering, and his brow pressed to her own. He felt her legs wrapping around his waist and looked at her. Rhaena combed her fingers through the silver hair that spilled from his braid, pulling him close for a kiss.

“Stay with me,” his voice was low, blooms of red staining his cheeks. “Kostilus,” he added.

Please.

Rhaena kissed him with the promise to stay and only then did he pull away. He pulled on his slacks again, unbuttoned, and moved towards the wash basin to grab a clean cloth. Aemond turned on his heel and saw her, bashfulness now replacing her boldness from before, wrapped in the sheets. Her eyes were wide, glassy, and filled with something he now understood.

Desire, thrumming with the ichor of Old Valyria that ran rampant in their veins.

He moved towards her and a smile curled on her lips, her eyes falling to the sway of his hips and the silver patch that peered lewdly above the waist of his trousers. His hand reached to pull the sheet away while his other began to carefully wipe away his pearly spend.

She sighed, different than before, now with contentment and a consideration as her thighs fell open to welcome him again. He burned under her sense of awe as she watched his hands move over her skin; Aemond murmured his questions and she promised she felt fine, catching his wrist and bringing it to meet her lips for a kiss.

He pulled away a second time–the last time he swore–discarding the soiled cloth and pulling through his drawers to retrieve a silk scarf that had been gifted from across the narrow sea. He watched her hands move to wrap her hair and he shyly offered to knot it at the nape of her neck, pressing a chaste kiss there when he finished.

With their earlier tension spent and staining the sheets, their exchange was now natural, a tethered bond that seemed to be planted on that fateful night of Driftmark. Aemond climbed beneath the covers and his hands could not leave her, pulling her until her back was flushed to his chest, fitting like a missing piece. His arm wrapped around her waist, holding her close enough to feel the thrum of his heart.

Her voice was soft, breaking the quiet that had settled over them. “What will happen now?”

His hum reverberated through them and he pulled her closer until his lips could touch her shoulder once, twice, following the curve and pressing against the soft spot under her ear, pressing contemplative kisses before he said: “Tomorrow I will petition the king for your hand in marriage.”

Rhaena shifted in his arms. “What if he says no?”

He nuzzled into her neck, smiling against her skin. “Vhagar remembers you,” he began, his breath tickling; she bloomed with his words. “If they say no, I will take you to Driftmark and we will have a ceremony anyway, just as our ancestors did.”

“But what–”

“But nothing,” his tone cut through, a gentle resolve, and he pressed another kiss to the nape of her neck. Rhaena relaxed against him. “Iksā ñuhon.”

You are mine.

Taglist (Tumblr kindred spirits): @aaaaaamond @annikin-im-panicin @watercolorskyy @black-dread @fan-goddess @httpsdoll @theromanticegoist @assortedseaglass @amiraisgoingthruit @theoneeyedprince @babyblue711 @itbmojojoejo @girlwith-thepearlearring @lauraneedstochill @theobjectofyourire @troublesomesnitch @hb8301 @snowprincesa1 @namelesslosers @darylandbethfanforever9 @helaelaemond @qyburnsghost @niocel

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#we gave our time to something undefined #my titles are hozier lyrics still #hotd fanfic #hotd fanfiction #aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond targaryen fanfiction #aemond targaryen #rhaena targaryen #aemond x rhaena #rhaena x aemond #rhaemond

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thefourchimes · 28 days

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there's many scenes in encanto that hurts me very much and makes me want to scream

but one scene i would like to give way to for today, especially as a cool hue sisters enthusiast, is this scene:

mirabel and abuela argument, face to face, parallel with each other...

...and then we have isabela and luisa, backs hunched and eyes lowered, terrified...and standing on the side abuela overwhelmingly stands on

not because they agree with abuela, hell no, but because of their genuine fear of her disappointment

they had talked with mirabel. they were able to connect with her after so long of being apart for more than one reason. mirabel was able to help them break from the expectations and pressures for even just a little bit of time

but it's not easy at all to completely break away from what what was instilled in you for a long time

i know that after everything, they would absolutely be by mirabel's side, standing with her and standing up for her and for themselves, but...understandably, as seen from the symbolism of that scene, it's not easy to move past years of the fear of disappointment holding onto you tight, wouldn't easily stop how they were still so terrified in that very moment

and god. that hurts.

#encanto #mirabel madrigal #luisa madrigal #isabela madrigal #madrigal sisters #cool hue sisters #alma madrigal #abuela madrigal #symbolism!!#but also look i like alma but goddamn this scene hurts #they were probably in awe of how their little sister was able to stand up to abuela #and how she was able to speak her mind and defend herself and her family #AAAAAA #i am getting emotional #:')#fun fact: i added the picture for last because just looking at it hurts me lol

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wildemaven · 10 months

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Sweet Creature: Chapter Seven

Pairing: Dieter Bravo x F!Reader (Nicknamed Poppy)

WC: 6600

Warning: 18+ Blog/Minors will be blocked; Just like ao3, “creator chooses not to use warnings.” If you click Keep Reading, that means you agree that you’re the age to handle mature themes. Also by clicking Keep Reading, you understand warnings may not be complete in order to avoid spoilers for the story.

A/N: We’ll, there’s a lot here. This week was draining with a teething/no sleeping babe— but I was determined to get this finished! I don’t have a lot to say, but I’m excited for this part of their story! Thank you to @gnpwdrnwhiskey again for her support and proofreading every week! And thank you to everyone who has continued to stick with these two dumb dumbs as they figure their shit out. Love you all!!

Series Masterlist / Playlist / Main Masterlist

Previous/ Next

Breathe.

In.

Out.

Dieter wills himself to regulate the adrenaline surging through him, it has his muscles tingling as its increasing levels spread through every pliable fiber.

Breathe.

In.

Out.

He takes in his surroundings, a steady attempt at grounding his mind, assuring him, keeping him present, giving him a chance to regain his composure.

He Sees…

The ornate tile that dresses the front steps to your Spanish Revival home, the perfect backdrop to the ‘welcome’ mat that greets him the minute he arrives to your place.

The sturdy wooden door attached to your home that keeps you protected, allowing you to live comfortably and securely without a bother from the outside world.

The well maintained landscape, no real knowledge of the specific varieties of plants that decorate the front, he senses a low maintenance and drought tolerant feel— a few things he had never heard of until moving in with Diem.

The way the sky begins to shift from its golden orange and purple hues to an even shade of deep blue as the sun tucks behind the horizon line, welcoming the stillness of the night.

The way he is actively replaying an episodic memory of you from just an hour ago when you had joined him at Diem’s house to read over his lines for his upcoming movie role.

“Are you sure you even want me doing this? I don’t know a single thing about acting. Can’t Diem help?? I don’t want to mess you up.”

It’s been a few days since the Capri re-grand opening. And a few days since yours and Dieter’s almost kiss.

There hasn’t really been a discussion on what had happened, or almost happened, only due to the fact that you hadn’t seen each other since Dieter had to leave to take Wren home.

Now you find yourselves sitting in Diem’s living room, on opposite ends of her sectional couch, ignoring the residual heat that is currently reigniting as you both look over the scripts you’re each holding— alone together, zero distractions.

“This scene is between two people who are navigating a new relationship, dancing around the sexual tension between them—“

The coincidence not lost on you.

“So, there’s no fuckin’ way I’d read through this with my sister. And I doubt she’d want to anyways, she hates this kinda shit, so I don’t even bother.“

“Okay, I’ll try my best, but if I fuck up—“

“You’re not gonna fuck up. I highlighted your lines in pink, just focus on those and you’ll do fine. Besides, you’re a teacher— you read stories for a living, just think of it like you’re reading to your class.”

“Dieter, it says right here at the bottom of the page in bold type, ‘HER EYES CLOSE AT HIS TOUCH FOLLOWED BY LOW SENSUAL MOANS’— there’s no fucking way I can imagine myself reading this to my class.”

You look up from the paper, his eyes already on you. You note the way his neck muscles flex as he swallows, the grip on his paper a little tighter— you’re not sure how you’re going to survive this.

He touches…

The weight of his chip, the brass cool against his warm clammy skin, pulling it from his pocket, it sits heavy in his palm— a quick reminder that who he was doesn’t define him now. A few light tosses, before gripping it with his thumb and his forefinger, one last look before returning it to his pocket.

The compact device that connects him to everything important to him in a single touch, his finger navigating back and forth between the home screen image of Wren and him eating donuts then to the text you had sent not long after leaving Diem’s house — Poppy💐- I have that easel ready, if you still want it. You’re more than welcome to come grab it — Then double checking the numbers on the house match the ones that you sent after he text back asking if he could come over tonight— a perfect match.

The silky strands of his ruffled dark brown hair as he tries to tame his wild curls, the cottony fabric of his gray weathered shirt pulling at it in such a way so it drapes over him just right, the rough texture of his faded jeans against his sweaty hands as he rubs them several times over where they hug his thighs— a blind once over of his appearance.

The way his hand skims over the velvety skin above your knee, the hem of your dress delicately dancing over his fingertips, the faint scar that now lives on the side of your thigh from a biking accident as a kid lays uneven under his gentle graze.

“Is this okay?”

Somewhere between shared lines, and fiery dialogue, Dieter finds himself sitting closer to you, his knee brushing against yours—hand so effortlessly placed on your thigh as he checks in with your comfort.

“Y-yeah— it says ‘HIS HAND REACHES THE APEX BETWEEN HER THIGHS’, so she would know that his hand is moving up her leg—.” Your voice trembles as you try to concentrate on the words printed in bold on the current page.

Looking up, you see Dieter’s focus solely on you, his folded script tucked between his leg and the couch cushion.

“That’s not what I asked.” There's a deep husk to his voice, his movements halted as he draws your attention away from the pages and up to him. “Are you comfortable with this, not what the paper reads or act is telling us to do. Is this okay with you?” Your consent, regardless of what the characters are doing, his number one priority.

“Y-yeah…” You murmur as you look down to where his hand is still subtly holding your leg. Your attention drawn back to his handsome face, placing your hand on top of his, encouraging him to continue his efforts.

He hears…

The symphonic resonance of the nightfall harmonics drifts through in the crisp evening air, a modest breeze carries the lilt of the chirping crickets throughout the stilled neighborhood, the rustling of the leaves scattered and swirling across the sidewalk, the faint cries of coyote pups awaiting the arrival of their mother who’s been in search of a hearty meal.

The way his heart beat reverberates against his eardrums, the thudding of his heart an emotive chorus, its pace evening out with each grounding thought.

The way your breath catches, its auditory staccato floats through the air and nestles somewhere deep within his mind, storing its melodic rhythm away as an echoic file, never wanting to forget how it sounds.

Dieter shifts himself forward, the crunch of the leather puckering as he settles a knee on the cushion, a hand gripping the back of the couch as he angles himself closer.

The crackle of paper startles you, Dieter grabbing the crumbled heap of papers and tossing it over his shoulder, removing any distractions that might be bothering.

Bit by bit you allow yourself to fall back onto the mound of decorative pillows in the corner of the couch. Dieter following your lead, keeping a close distance between you as he settled himself between your legs.

“When is Diem going to be home?” You breathed, a warmth spreads through your body as you fixate on the fact that this is really happening.

“Don’t know, at least an hour.”

A few loose curls fall into Dieter’s face, you lightly comb them back, the movements unhurried and attentive. Your fingers catching the frames of his glasses in the process, you gingerly remove them from his face, carefully tossing them to the side— producing your favorite lopsided grin from him.

Dieter pauses to study every little detail of this moment— the flash of want in your eyes, the way your fingertips skim over and around his taut biceps, the deliberate way the tip of your tongue wets your bottom lip before it’s drawn in between your teeth, the way your lungs continue to fill with the air you’re both sharing— he’s never felt more alive than in this moment.

He smells…

The night brings a refreshing scent of calmer air, the aromatic warmth of the citrus groves meld with the fragrant lavender farms that accumulates throughout the day, the herbal aroma that triggers a distinct nostalgic smell of his childhood.

The way your perfume mixes with your natural pheromones, the unmistakable notes of musky vanilla and orange blossom paired with your own unique scent stimulates his olfactory nerves, his spine tingling with pleasure as he breathes you in.

Dieter takes his time, deliberate in his own way, he wants to take his time— savor the moment.

He lowers himself down to the open space where your shoulder meets your neck— warm, delicate and inviting.

You angle your head, allowing him more space to move, your hands wrapping themselves around his neck, twisting his hair between your fingers.

Dieter places a soft tentative kiss to your shoulder, then slowly dragging the tip of his nose up the column of your neck, mindful of how responsive you are, nudging at your jaw before stopping.

“You’re so fucking soft.” His lips ghosting over your ear, voice honeyed and thick, his hand now situated on your bare hip, thumb toying with the seam of your underwear.

You nuzzle into the side of his head, his scent provocative in the way you crave it immensely. The smokiness of the sandalwood and cedarwood compliment the spicy musk and floral base— it’s Dieter, wild and delicious.

He tastes…

The ache for sustenance, a morsel of pleasure activates his taste buds, a palatable desire that he craves in hopes to fight off the hunger that plagues him.

A fieriness burns through your body, causing you to lose all ability to properly handle the way Dieter is making you feel— ravenous. You need more, something substantial that satiates the emptiness and the yearning.

The unfaltering look in his eyes, an unspoken feeling of infatuation that has you melting under his gaze.

Dieter leans in, gradually closing the gap between his lips and yours, sparking the immediate surge of oxytocin actively flowing through your veins.

His breath fanning across your lips, warm and minty, a brief remembrance of your almost kiss— several times over.

This position offers a new approach, angle of motion, feeling the fullness of his bottom lip catch your top lip, your fingers gripping tightly to his hair in anticipation as the weight of his lips begin to slot gently over yours.

*CLICK*

“Dieter? I’m home!” Diem announces her arrival.

Releasing the breath you were holding, grip loosened, warmth lifted— another moment gone.

“Fuck me!” Dieter grumbles, his forehead falling to your shoulder, your chest vibrating with a silent laugh.

Dieter places a kiss to your shoulder then pushes himself back from where he had been hovering over you seconds before, helping you to readjust the flowy fabric of your dress, a silent look to you asking “are you okay?”— you nod yes.

His body slumps back into the cushioned backrest, head falling back as he pinched the bridge of his nose, willing away his annoyance at Diem’s horrible timing.

“Oh! I didn’t realize you were here too, Poppy. I dropped Wren off for a playdate and picked up some dinner on the way home. You hungry?”

“Umm, no I’m good. Actually, I’m going to head out. I’ve got— there’s some things I need to do. So, yeah— I’m gonna go.”

You feel like two teenagers who were caught by the other’s parents. That awkwardness that looms over afterwards, not really knowing what to say or do.

You give his leg a light squeeze, pulling his attention back from his sulking, propping himself up with his arms on his knees, grabbing your hand and returning the faint gesture.

“I’ll text you later.” You mouthed to him before grabbing your items from the coffee table and making your way to the front door.

“You still on for this Friday?” Diem asks you as she’s unboxing the pizzas she had picked up, arranging a few slices nicely on plates.

“Yep— yeah! Friday is still good! See you later.” Your response short and to the point as you close the door behind you.

Dieter can hear the rustling of the wrappers and then a stillness hangs in the air. His back is to where Diem is standing in the kitchen, but he can feel her eyes boring into the back of his head.

“What?”

“Why didn’t you mention she was coming over? I would have grabbed more food, we could have all hung out together.”

“It was a last minute thing. I asked her to come read lines with me.”

Diem rounds the couch and places the food on the coffee table, before sitting and making herself comfortable.

“So… Did you finally kiss her?”

That gets a laugh from Dieter, face falling into his hands at the ridiculousness of Diem’s question.

“No, I haven’t kissed her.” Tilting his head towards where she’s sitting, chin resting against his clasped hands.

“Oh my god! You haven’t kissed her yet? What the hell, Dieter!”

“Trust me, it’s not for a lack of trying.” He assures her, picking at the toppings of his pizza slice that had fallen onto the plate.

“I don’t get it. If you’ve been trying, then what’s stopping you from actually doing it?”

“You are! Literally every chance I’ve taken, you stroll on in and fuckin’ cockblock me.”

“Wait— you’re blaming me for you not kissing her?” The shocked look on her face is priceless and equally hilarious.

“Yeah, I’m definitely blaming you. You have the worst timing ever!” He laughed, because even as annoyed as he is, the whole situation is a little funny.

*BUZZ*

The vibration of his phone cuts into their conversation, a text from you pops up on to the screen, he swipes it open.

Poppy 💐- I have that easel ready, if you still want it. You’re more than welcome to come grab it.

Uncle Dude - What’s your address? Be there in a few.

He wipes his greasy fingers with a napkin then tossing it onto his forgotten pizza. He stands to his full height, placing his phone in his pocket and makes his way to the door.

“Where are you going? I was going to turn on that one show we’ve been wanting to watch.”

“I’m— going out. Go ahead and start it without me.” He shouts as the door clicks closed behind him.

Uncle Dude - What’s your address? Be there in a few.

Poppy 💐- House number 402. White house on the left side of the street. See you soon!

The distance from your house to Diem’s is a short one, 3 minutes if you’re a fast Walker, 5-6 if you take your time.

Dieter was on his way— to your house.

You toss your phone onto the counter, and run to the bathroom. Not knowing how soon he was leaving after stating he’d be here in a few, didn’t leave you much time to freshen up.

You literally just saw him, so you kept it simple a few swipes of deodorant, clean away any mascara flakes and opting for a fresh coat of chapstick instead of lipstick— less is more approach.

2 minutes down.

Running through the house, you do a quick once over, grabbing any loose items, out of place items or kind of embarrassing items and tossing them into your hall closet— making sure to snag your copy of ‘My Pleasure: An Intimate Guide to Loving Your Body and Having Great Sex’ off of the coffee table.

4 minutes down.

Heading into the kitchen— Maybe he’ll want something to drink? You grab two tall glasses and fill them with ice, sitting on the counter waiting to fill with whatever Dieter wants.

5 minutes down.

Nervously, you stare at the front door, your nervous tick of picking at your fingernails keeps your hands busy. Should I turn some music on? Should I have put on a little more perfume? Maybe I should have brushed my teeth?

*Knock Knock Knock*

You grab for the door handle, pausing for a minute to take a deep breath, then cracking the door open to see Dieter standing on your front porch, hands in his pockets, casually looking down at his feet then up to you at the sound of the creaky door hinges— his face lights up instantly.

“Hey! Hope you found it okay?” You can’t help the dopey smile that grows on your face.

“No issues at all. Didn’t realize how close you lived this whole time.” He says, gesturing in the direction of Diem’s house.

“Yeah, almost neighbors.” Your smirk is laced in flirtation, your head leaning against the edge of the door in the most 90s rom-com way. “You wanna come in?”

“Sure.”

“Are you thirsty at all? I have sparkling and regular water, Diet Coke, and some beer— I haven’t made it to the store this week so I’m running low on things. I’ll be more prepared next time.” You ramble as you lead him into the kitchen, your nervous energy spiking just slightly.

“I’m good for right now, thank you. So, there will be a next time?” He asks, observing the way you bite at your lower lip when he mentions the prospect of a “next time”.

“Yeah,” You shrug your shoulders, noting the way the corner of his mouth quirks up and the light flutter in your stomach that follows. “I think so, if that’s what you want?”

“Yes, definitely want that.”

There’s a beat of silence, sans the sounds of home— the tick of the clock, the clinking of ice falling into the tray, a faint sound of music coming from another room.

“Oh! I—I have your jacket, I keep meaning to bring it over and then it would slip my mind…” Very much a lie, you were wearing it early this morning while you sipped your morning coffee, reading the latest chapter of ‘My Pleasure’… and you also might have worn it afterwards, when you needed a little— relief. “I’m so sorry.”

“No, it’s totally fine. I mean, a little Birdie has been asking about it— it’s not a big deal.”

“Let me go grab it so I’m not tempted to hold it ransom for longer. Umm, help yourself to whatever. Then I can show you the easel, see if it’s something that will work for you.”

“Okay.”

Dieter takes in your home, it’s very much you.

Your love for plants extends inside, dozens of potted green plants, in varying shapes and sizes grace just your living room alone.

There’s a hint of a modern flare to your style, clean lines and lots of wood, a very neutral aesthetic— most of the color living as art work on your walls.

The art hanging throughout your home, he can only assume is your own. He’s drawn to the texture and the style of each painting— faint lines formed into human figures , landscapes resembling the world outside of these walls, and vivid abstract strokes of color adorn canvas everywhere he looks.

A soft glow catches his eye and like a moth to a flame, he’s lured to a dimly lit room— your art studio.

Large windows flank the walls, he imagines the natural light in the daytime is ideal in a space like this.

Tattered empty tubes of acrylic paint, evidence of being overly pinched to extricate every last bit of paint, strewn across a large table against the wall. Empty glass food jars repurposed as storage for your massive collection of paint brushes, while spatulas and other painting instruments lay haphazardly across the tabletop.

The table seems to double as a desk, once light colored, now coated in layers of colorful dried paint drips and spills. He runs his fingers over the surface, a balance of smooth and irregular textures, imagining the years you’ve spent standing over this table deliberately colors and mixing new ones.

Dieter thinks you must have been painting recently, a clear palette holds fresh dollops of paint in the center with a few experimental strokes on the side. He dips a finger into one of the little mounds, rubbing the emulsion between three fingers. It's cold and wet as it glides over his skin.

The wall of windows behind him he finds an easel, it too covered in coats of paint— a newer canvas sits in the support bar, a rough sketch of something just barely visible.

Next to where the easel rests, there are canvases stacked neatly against the wall along the floor. He analyzes each painting with regard, taking in each deliberate stroke and use of color— intently connecting with the emotions you’ve experienced in creating each piece.

He admires your tenacity. Through your long days of teaching at the school, little humans requiring so much of your attention for hours. To volunteering your time to help others explore their creativity at the gallery, planning and teaching weekly. And yet, you still find time to cater to your needs by doing something that makes your life more fulfilling, not allowing any roadblocks to deter your endeavors.

There’s an ache in his chest, a deep reminder of how different his life could have been had he not been bound by the shackles of Hollywood and the dark world that surrounds it.

Dieter had only ever dreamed of having such a space like this of his own, where he could chase a creative high and drown out the loud noises that followed him daily.

Stopping his thoughts before they begin to spiral, he thinks back to a motivational speaker he listened in on while in rehab. There were a lot of valuable words shared during the speech, but he remembers the line that really stood out to him— even through the darkest moments and afflictions that overpowered all his memories and people closest to him, it didn’t mean he is less worthy of a good life, a great life, moving forward.

Dieter realizes that with everything he’d lived through and how much hurt he had caused, he knows those things led him to this point in time— they led him to you.

“I ended up washing it, read the care instructions on the tag so I wouldn’t fuck it up. I found some melted Kit-Kats in the pockets and a few condom wrappers— this jacket has definitely seen some things…” You stop talking when you realize you’re met with an empty room, Dieter not where you had left him. “Dieter?”

There’s a slight movement that pulls your attention in the direction of your studio.

You find Dieter standing in the center of the room, the flicker from a burning candle emits a diffused light, washing his sharp features in a soft glow. There’s almost a pensiveness to his expression, hands tucked in his pockets lost in his thoughts, you watch him quietly take in the room around him.

“I see you helped yourself to a house tour.” You announce your presence as you enter the room, placing his jacket on the overstuffed chair in the corner then turning around to walk in the direction of your large art table, the skirt of your dress shifting from side to side as you walk.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to overstep—“ He starts to apologize, realizing you both hadn’t set any boundaries with each other.

“It’s fine, I’m just messing with you. I hid all my incriminating things already.” You joke, but there’s something about him that makes you feel like you don’t have to be guarded.

“Are these for your showing?” He asks, pointing to the canvases he had just been studying.

“Yeah,” You say as you turn to face him, lean back against the table. “They’re all pretty much done— I’ll probably fine tune some things before the big day.”

“Can I ask what they represent?? I can see two figures— a man and a woman in some sort of intimate setting. I see the woman is fully fleshed out in color with distinct features, similar to your own— but the man looks like a shadowed figure, starting out blank, then slowly gaining color and personality in each painting— like an evolution of some sort. But what’s the narrative behind them?”

The way he’s analyzing your work, makes you feel even more captivated by him.

“I was having this dream— a nightmare maybe? For weeks, it would come to me every night, always starting out in the same way. I would feel him all around me— his hands, lips, everything. I would try to speak to him, but he would never respond, and I could never see his face, didn’t know who he was. Then he would vanish, like I had lost him and I would wake up in a panic. But as the weeks went on, it was like I could start to see him a little clearer…”

Dieter hangs on to your every word, he’s drawn in to your openness to share your thoughts so freely with him. He steps closer to where you’re standing, wanting to know more about these dreams.

“Go on.” He says softly, encouraging you to share more details.

“Some nights his face was a blur, but I could see his features, more clearly each night. And as his face became more visible over time, the dreams didn’t feel like I was losing him— it felt like I was gaining more of him. The last week or so, I can see his face— I know who he is.”

At some point in explaining the story behind your paintings, your eyes fell to the floor— the way he was watching you so intently felt overwhelming the closer he got.

“Who is he?” He asks, placing two fingers under your chin to slowly lift your gaze up to him.

“You.”

It’s a fierce softness in the way his mouth molds to yours, the gentle press of his lips is breathtaking— punching the air right from your lungs.

His touch is meticulous and thoughtful, resting his hands on your bare thighs, fingers lightly graze over your soft skin leaving a trail of tiny goosebumps.

Your hands snake up his body, settling back to where they were not so long ago— cupping the back of his head, slow drawn out scratches to his scalp.

“Is this okay?” He murmurs against your mouth.

“Y-yes— more than okay!” You breathe out— you’ve literally dreamt of this moment.

Experimentally you slowly swipe your tongue across his plump bottom lip, silently begging for a little more and he obliges, allowing you to slip your tongue into his mouth. An equal exchange of feelings and yearning as the kiss alternates between a tangle of tongues and sweet pecks.

Dieter pulls back, resting his forehead on yours, his breaths ragged puffs across your warm face.

“Why did you stop?” Your breath equally as ragged, chest heaving as you question his halted movements.

“Be-because—“ His throat dry as he tries to regulate his breathing. “If we don’t stop, things will get— more serious.”

“I-I’m failing to see the problem in that.” You tease.

“I don’t have any condoms— I didn’t think we’d get this far with our track record.”

“I locked the door, after I let you in— didn’t want to chance any interruptions.” His chest vibrates with a soft chuckle at your response. “I’m clean and on the pill— but only if you’re comfortable.”

“I am, clean I mean— I’m clean, plus haven’t been with anyone in, well, awhile now. Might be a little rusty in all actuality.” He confesses, his thumbs still moving in sweeping motions over the tops of your thighs. “You sure you want this?”

“Very, very sure.” You whisper against his lips, grabbing one of his hands and dragging it slowly up under your dress to the throbbing ache that has settled between your legs since he started kissing you.

“Fuck!” His eyes flutter shut at the sensation of your bare cunt, nearly choking on air— his fingers start to tentatively swipe through your wet folds, watching as your eyes start to roll back in pleasure.

“I thought I had felt some kind of underwear earlier?” He asks, as his fingers coated in your slick start to draw lazy circles over your sensitive clit.

“Ah!— I-I did. But I was so keyed up when I — left, I came home and had to— Oh! I had to— Fuck I can’t think straight when you’re doing that!”

“Did you come home and touch yourself?”

“Yessss— Oh god!” You whine breathlessly as two of his fingers enter your heated core, remnants of your earlier orgasm fully welcoming him.

“You’re so perfect.” He exclaimed,

his free hand cupping your face, keeping you close, his thumb lightly tracing across your lower lip.

His two fingers continue to move in and out of you, working up so effortlessly. He presses a long slow kiss to your lips, followed by a few short light ones.

You can feel yourself moving closer to the edge, there’s a tingle running down your spine, converging with the fire that’s beginning to break within you. Your velvety walls begin to flutter around Dieter’s fingers, prompting him to kiss you a little deeper and it’s just the push you need.

“Oh my god! I’m gonna come—“ Your body begins to shake, your hands slamming done on your table— paint splattering into the air.

It’s an inferno of ecstasy blazing through your body, you wrap your arms around Dieter’s waist, clinging to him as you ride it out— letting the embers cool down.

Without a single breath, you grab for the button on Dieter’s jeans as he tries to pull at the straps of your dress. It’s a jumbled mess of limbs, but finally working in tandem to rid each other of clothes.

Dieter crowds you against the table, the edge digging into your lower back causing you to yelp.

“Are you okay?” His eyes etched in concern, as he scans over your blissed out features.

“Ye-yeah! The ta-table is digging.” You say, pointing to show him.

He bends down to grab onto the back of your thighs. “Jump.” He says as he helps guide your naked body onto the table.

His hands rest on the table as he leans in to kiss you again, unhurried as he licks into your mouth as he guides your body to lay down on the table.

“You’re so beautiful like this, Poppy.” He says as he leaves a trail of kisses down your neck and over your chest, stopping and pressing his lips over the spot that he hopes to hold on to for a while— your heart.

The gesture has your eyes welling up, blinking rapidly to fight them off. You feel so completely overwhelmed by him, you have to actively stop yourself from telling him how in love you are with him.

He lifts himself off of you just enough to reach between the two of you, giving his cock a few hasty strokes before notching its weeping head at your entrance.

“Fuck!” He gasps as he slowly pushes his full length into your warm cunt— the slightest ghosting of your climax now pulsing around him.

Your legs wrap around his waist, pulling him in as close to you as possible, silently begging him to move, but he grips onto your leg to halt your movements.

“Wait— I need a minute otherwise this is going to be over before it even happens.” He says, resting his head on your sternum to give himself a moment.

“Dieter, it’s fine. Just take what you need— I’m— I’m good.” You feel more than satisfied with the two orgasms you’ve already had, you just want to feel him.

He slowly states to move his hips, several purposeful thrusts, wanting to savor the way you feel, the warmth already starting to bloom in his belly.

Dieter lifts himself off of you, sensing this new angle is pleasant based on how you start to arch your back off the table, his steady thrusts working you both up in a desired frenzy.

“Fuuuuck, you feel like a dream., Poppy.” His voice is hoarse, glancing down to watch the way your arousal coats him, his hands gripping your waist as he thrusting into with a little more earnestness.

“Dieter— I think I’m going to come again— oh god!!” You announced into the lust filled room, the tell-tale signs barreling through your body.

You try to grab onto something, hands looking for something to anchor yourself to, Dieter too far away and too lost in his own pursuit— each thrust is a little deeper producing your muscles to tighten on their own accord.

An unexpected swipe of Dieter’s thumb over your clit is blinding, sweet erotic sounds pouring from your mouth, hands slamming back onto the table, you're met with wetness, your brain registering where you are and that your hands are covered in paint.

The thick emulsion is cold when it hits your skin, your nipples pebble at the sensation of the paint gliding over them, your hands kneading the weight of your breasts— paint building up between your fingers with each calculated squeeze, each roll of your nipple sends you closer to your third orgasm.

You look up to see Dieter’s slack jawed expression, which only makes you emphasize your movements, giving him a little show. You’re arched back putting your chest on display, your hands working over your exposed skin covering your upper body in a rainbow of colors.

“Oh shit— shitshitshitshit— I’m gonna— fuck!” The sight of you sets Dieter off, folding himself over the top of you, face nestled into the crook of your neck as his thrusts begin to falter at the way your cunt begins to contract around him.

A gravelly moan against your damp skin and one final thrust, his hips still as he’s spilling into you.

The room is still again. The faint scent of your oud and sandalwood candle is overpowered by the sex hazed aroma. Chests moving against each other simultaneously, lungs begging to properly breathe, skin slipping with each pull of air— this might become your favorite way to create art.

A soft kiss to your shoulder as Dieter lifts himself up into his forearms, resting his temple against your jaw to give his arms a chance to regain their strength before giving you a softer kiss to your lips.

“That was—“ He’s still trying to regulate his breathing, words jumbled in his brain and not quite producing properly.

“Amazing!” You finish his sentence for him.

“Yeah— amazing.” He says, one more kiss because he doesn’t think he’s given you enough yet, then he’s slowly pulling out of you and helping you sit upright.

“What a mess we made of ourselves.” You laugh as you examine both of your colorful torsos.

“Worth it.” Dieter replied with a slight shrug and a quirky smile on his handsome face.

“I’m going to go grab some stuff to clean us up. I’ll be right back.”

Hopping off the table to head towards your bathroom, Dieter grabs you by the wrist, spinning you back towards him, your bodies flush against each once more as he gives you a toe curling kiss.

“Alright, hurry back.” He says, giving your backside a few taps.

You take a few minutes to freshen yourself up, wiping away as much of the paint as you can.

Throwing on a clean pair of underwear and a loose shirt, the hardwood cool against your bare feet, you make your way back to your studio where you’re met with an unexpected sight when you get to the door, Dieter sitting in front of your easel where your last canvas sits. His naked body wrapped in his fuzzy coat, his brow furrowed in concentration as his hand moves around the canvas with a paint drenched brush.

You take a moment to just watch him, leaning into the door frame, watching how he looks so relaxed and happy.

“You snoop and you help yourself to my painting, you sir are a menace.” You jokingly say to him, it earns you a generous laugh.

“Sorry, guess I’m two for two now. I saw you had it roughly sketched out and thought I’d paint you the way I see you.” He explained, leaning back into the small metal chair.

“And how do you see me?”

“Beautiful.” The word floats out and around you, its weight settling into that little space in your chest that has felt empty for so long.

“That’s two times you’ve painted me now— I think those would be grounds for someone to fall in love.” You tease, but there’s truth wrapped up in your statement. Pushing yourself off the doorframe, making your way over to where he’s sitting.

He places the brush in the glass of water, his hand reaching out for you to come closer, softly grabbing at your hips he’s pulling you down so you’re straddling his lap— fully aware he’s still naked and covered in paint under his jacket.

“Do you?” He has to know if you’re feeling the same way as him. “Do you, love me?”

“Yes.” Your voice a little wobbly, your emotions bubbling up in your chest.

But you do, you love him without a doubt and it’s the most terrifying and thrilling feeling you’ve experienced in a long time.

“I love you too, Poppy.” He whispers to you, his eyes glossy as he fights back tears.

“Why are you crying?” Wiping the single tear that has started to fall down his cheek.

“I’m scared— that I’m going to fuck this up. And you’re going to resent me. And I’ll be back to where I was a year ago— alone.”

Your heart nearly breaks at his confession.

“That’s not going to happen though.” Brushing his wild hair away from his eyes, caressing his face and hoping he hears the sincerity in your voice.

“How do you know that?”

“I don’t. But a wise man once told me— we’ll figure it out as we go.”

His arm wraps around your waist as his other hand cups the back of your neck, bringing your face to his, your nose bumping into his.

“I love you.” He breathes against your lips.

And before you even have a chance to reciprocate, he’s kissing you with so much love and feeling.

“Will you come? To see my showing on opening night?” You ask between feather-like kisses.

“I wouldn’t miss it, Poppy.”

It’s a few hours later when Dieter walks through the front door of Diem’s house, ready for a shower and sleep.

“You’re home late.” Diem’s voice sounds from the same spot on the couch he’d left her in.

“Uh, yeah. Lost track of time.”

“Were you at Poppy’s?” She asks with herround of motherly questioning.

“Yeah, I was. She had that easel, so I went to get it.”

“Where is it?”

“Where’s what?”

“The easel.”

“Oh, I— I must have forgot it. We were talking, lost track of time. I’ll grab it another time. I’m gonna take a shower then head to bed. Night.” Hoping to throw her off his scent, the last thing he wants is to hear her boast about what you and him were up to.

“Night. Oh hey, Dieter.”

“Yeah.” Turning back towards her.

“Make sure you wash that cute hand print on your neck.” Her devilish grin beaming at him.

He gives her a middle finger for good measure, then heads to the bathroom.

#sweet creature series #dieter bravo x fem!reader #dieter bravo x f!reader #dieter bravo x you #dieter bravo x reader #dieter bravo #pedro pascal #dieter x poppy #wildemaven writes

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jazzyquarterblugs · 1 month

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𝐏𝐏𝐓𝐉: 𝐒𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐂𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐀𝐋𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐒

Time to show ya'll the Altercanons for The Smiling Critters!! :D

(I have already looong posted them on my twitter but again for the Tumblr peeps I will post them here! :3)

From Oldest to Youngest!

Enjoy!

Bubba Bubbaphant!

The smart and probably the most mentally stable one out of the bunch (more on that later-) being the oldest isn't really easy when you've got 7 younger friends most of which love to go on rowdy fun adventures, nonetheless he is always with them every step of the way whenever he can! (Mostly because he needs to keep them from accidentally getting themselves killed 💀)

His Talent

Bubba is capable of creating balls of light and is able to change the intesity of light sources around him, in combat he can create lightbulb shaped items and throw them at to flashbang opponents, disorienting them and giving him the advantage, though this uses up his own energy and so he needs to think carefully about how many he creates, or else he will likely pass out.

KickinChicken!

The self-proclaimed cool guy of the critters. An daredevil who's always put looking for ways to have a lil fun, all the while making Bubba slowly lose his patience 😅 even though he may come off as an arrogant jerk to others, Kickin actually cares a lot about his friends and others more than he likes to admit! Just don't get on his nerves or he will make your life a living hell whenever given the chance!

His Talent

He can whip out three items of his choosing, whether it'd be a simple screwdriver or a flat out atomic bomb, all of which seem to follow a common theme 💀 though he is only lmited to three wishes and after using them all up he'd have to wait for an one hour cooldown before he can create more items again.

CatNap!

Not a very talkative critter, neither is he really stable in ANY WAY to begin with, he went suddenly missing once for 3 whole weeks and came back never the same, for 9 whole months has he never ate, drank or even slept, and it's only a matter of time before one day he finally collapses in on himself...

His...Talent???...

He is able create sleep-inducing red smoke, making whoever is nearby inhale it and fall into a Deep Sleep... (it doesn't kill them dn)

DogDay!

The leader of The Smiling Critters! And CatNap's best friend! This lovely sunshine is always ready for an adventure and bring a smile to everyone's faces no matter who they are! He is always standing up for what's right, willing to put his friends before himself.

His Talent?

His body glows a range of red to yellow whenever experiencing intense emotions, the hue and the temperature of his body depending on how intense the feeling is, if it is too intense his body is capable of burning the skin off of anybody who attempts to touch him.

PickyPiggy!

The nature-loving and diet obsessed one of the group, she absolutely loves the wonders of mother nature, even owning an vegetable garden herself! She loves to eat but always makes sure she stays healthy when doing so! Though sometimes she is so entranced by eating food that she often forgets to keep up with the others and finds herself confused, she always feels like she has an reputation to uphold considering her father is a well-known cook in Critterville, to make things even less easy she has 12 younger brothers to take care of!

Her Talent

She is able to take and storage items within an infinite pocket dimension like a personal inventory in her pockets, though she needs to have actualy pockets for this to work, luckily she knows how to sew!

Hoppy Hopscotch!

The physically active one of the group! And DogDay's beloved little sister! This rambunctious lil rabbit is willing to take on a challenge if it means having fun! Though she is really accident prone so she often gets herself hurt! (Pretty frequently actually-) but even so she doesn't know how to back down! While impatient and loud, she is happy to protect her friends from danger!

CraftyCorn!

The shy and soft-spoken one! She's pretty timid but has an incredible creative side to her! She loves to create all kinds of art but most specifically loves to draw! Even though she may not have had the best first start of her life, but after moving into Bubba's home and becoming part of The Smiling Critters, she realizes she feels right at home.

Her Talent

She is able to mend and shape paint however and whatever she wants it to be! Whether it is colorful wings of freedom or another way to paint, she needs to have paint at her disposal though.

She is also capable of magic of her own! But due to her previous living conditions she was never able to tap into her gift and discover the wonders of unicorn magic all that much, though luckily Bubba has enrolled her to equestrian classes to help her with that problem! <)

Bobby Bearhug!

The sweetest and youngest one out of the group! She was found alone outside near the Critters' treehouse, ever since then Bubba has taken her under his wing and has been taking care of her since, it is unknown what happened to her parents it has been assumed that they had just abandoned her.

Her Talent

She is able to sense the true intentions of a person's heart, helping her know who is worthy of trust or not, she is also able to sense the emotions of an individual though this can be physically and even mentally exhausting, making her needing to take frequent naps to gain her energy back.

Aaaand that is all I have for today!

I hoped you enjoy these Altercanons and if you have any questions regarding them or this AU feel free to ask in my ask box! :3

(repeat users are okay btw!)

#poppy playtime #poppy playtime au #poppy playtime jealousy #poppy playtime jealousy au #jealousy au #pptj #smiling critters #smiling critters au #bubba bubbaphant #kickinchicken #catnap #dogday #picky piggy #hoppy hopscotch #craftycorn #bobby bearhug #Bobby is a baby in this AU yes #Why? Cause I can >:)#But it's also because it makes up for an funny dynamic between Bubba and Kickin plus for story purposes!#DogDay and Hoppy are siblings #Kickin is a trans man cause I said so 😘#Picky is always getting distracted by food so she forgets what is going on sometimes #She also has OCD #Crafty is a sweet unicorn who does not deserve to have a mother like hers #Bubba is literally the only one with the least amount of drama in his life #And CatNap is my comfort character! <3 #I hope this doesn't upset all of y'all- ;-;#REMEMBER THIS IS AN AU!!#altercanons #altercanon

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box-milk · 6 months

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Flowers

Pairing ~ Yelena Belova x maximoff! Reader

Genre~ fluff

Warnings ~ i used Google translate, so I blame them for the bad Russian.

•°○•°○•°○•°○•°○•°○•°○•°○

Yelena is immediately hit with the cooling air of Stark's Industrial Ac as she followed her sister into the Avengers compound. She remained vigilant despite all the employees going about their lives disregarding her presence.

Natasha gave a brief tour of their surroundings until they entered the elevator, pressing a button that took them to a higher floor.

On the way off the elevator, they bumped into an unfamiliar redhead, causing yelena to immediately go into defensive mode and raise a gun while the latter's fist to glow red in retaliation.

"Woah! Both of you calm dowm". Natasha said as she got in between them with each arm keeping the younger girls at a safe distance.

"Yelena, this is Wanda maximoff. Wanda, this is my little sister. Now, can we calm down. Please." Both class hesitantly lowered their hands, but their glazed never flattered.

Natasha rolls her eyes at the glare they are sharing, but let's out a quiet sigh of relief. "Excellent. Getting rid of the glares would be nice too. " She mumbles the last part under her breath.

Yelena, who was standing next to her, heard and was about to respond when a hue of white light, barely noticeable, appeared behind the younger redhead.

The young blonde observed how neither of the women seemed bothered by the light. In fact, they seem to relax. "Privet sestra." Wanda says with a small smile, and yelena is confused until a head with white hair pops out from behind her.

Yelena, for some reason, feels a sense of calm wash over her as she stared into the girl's pure white eyes. "privet roza".

Natasha looked at her younger sister, completely enchanted by the girl with snow white hair that sat neatly in a French braid and smirk.

"Hello Natty, who's your friend?" The mystery girl says as she stepped completely out from behind Wanda but still had a grip on the red sweater she was wearing.

"This is my sister yelena". Nat turns to her sister. "Yelena, this is Wanda's younger sister Y/n". You light up at the introduction, causing flowers to literally bloom around your forehead, forming a crown.

"Lovely to meet you." You bounce on your toes lightly before placing your hands together, emitting a light that shines through forming a flower crown made of lilies before gently placing it on yelena's head.

"krasivyy"

Wanda frowns before gently taking your arm moving around the sisters into the elevator. You wave at them until the elevator closes.

"Someone has a crush." Natasha smirked at her sister.

"What is this crush?"

"Oh boy"

°•°•°•°•°°•°°•°°•

It's been 2 months, and Yelena would have settled in quite nicely building a relationship with the team while still having her guard up.

The only one her defenses dropped completely for was for Y/n, but she hardly saw you due to your older sister's protective nature. She'd always find a way to cut your interactions short.

"Lili, hello." Yelena jumps slightly at the soft voice behind her as she doesn't even hear the girl entre. "Privet younger maximoff."

Y/n's pure white irises quickly scanned yelena before her palms glowed lightly, and another flower crown appeared in her hands before she placed it on yelena's head.

Yelena blushed lightly before clearing her throat. " Why do you always do that y/n maximoff"

Y/n clasps her hands behind her back, maintaining her pristine posture while smiling softly at the blonde. "You remind me of lilies purity, innocence, and rebirth."

"What does that even mean y/n maximoff ".

Before y/n could answer a grip on her wrist is pulling her away from the kitchen within a millisecond, leaving the younger blonde even more confused and how the white-haired girl was out of her sights so quickly.

"Fucking older maximoff". Yelena grumbles to herself once she realized the cause of y/n sudden disappearance.

" Well, hello to you too, sunshine".

"Fuck off cyka"

Nat chuckles while pouring a cup of coffee before sitting the cup on the counter, giving her sister her undivided attention.

"What's your problem this morning?"

"I don't understand why Wanda maximoff takes younger maximoff away from me all the time." The blond expressed with her famous frown on her lips.

"Wanda is...complicated. I'll talk to her."

...........

Just as promised, nat found the maximoff siblings in your lily decorated room. Wanda sat with her back against the headboard, lighty tracing the outline of your face as you peacefully slept.

"Why are you cock blocking my sister max?"

Wanda turns to the woman leaning on the door frame with a glare, then returns her gaze back to her sleeping sister.

"So?". Nat pressed, stepping completely into the room and sitting at your feet. Wanda swallows thickly before facing the red head.

"She's all I have"

"You have-." Wanda interrupted nat quickly. "I know I have you guys, but she's all the blood I have left."

Natasha frowns in understanding before gently rubbing the younger girls back. "I understand, but I can grantee yelena would never hurt her."

Wanda clutches her fist lightly before thickly swallowing. " What if she leaves and forgets about me me?". Natasha can hear exactly how choked up the girl is.

"That'll never happen"

Wanda flinched in surprise at the voice of her younger sister before looking in her pale eyes. Y/n smiled softly before bringing her hand to caress Wanda's cheek.

Natasha is confused, but the siblings seemed to come to a quiet understanding.

"OK." Is all Wanda says before y/n kisses her cheek before running off to find a certain blonde.

"She be OK." Nat reassures, and Wanda smiles lightly letting out a sigh.

"I hope"

........

An: you can tell I didn't know to end this 🫠

#marvel #wanda maximoff #natasha romanoff #yelena belova #natasha romanoff x reader #yelena belova imagine #yelena x reader #yelena mcu #yelena marvel #yelena boleva

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yawntutsyip · 1 year

Note

Hello author, maybe you can do an Aonung x sully! Reader where the two love each other but he should marry another woman/girl and he rejects the reader because of it. But the girl he is supposed to marry is in love with Aonung and does everything to separate him from the reader!!! Maybe the reader sees how they kiss and that breaks her heart. Drama but with a happy ending

It would be cool if you could write it, but of course only if you want to!☺️

warnings: sorta angst, happy ending

an: I’m so sorry this took so long 😭 I hope you like it, I tried to follow the plot the best I can but kinda changed up a few things, I hope you still enjoy it though!!

requests : open

A Big Misunderstanding

From the very first moment you and your family had landed in the village of Awa’atlu, when your eyes landed on a certain Metkayina boy, you had fallen head over heels. For a while it confused you, it really did. You always find yourself asking ‘Why do I like him?’ He was a complete jerk to you and your family.

But then you guys would have these moments that made it seem like it was just you and him there, going unnoticed by everyone else. Ao’nung was the person you got partnered up with to teach you how to ride an ilu.

When you first found out Ao’nung was going to be the one to teach you, You thought you were an absolute goner. You were already preparing yourself to eat water when you got on the ilu, but Ao’nung definitely surprised you.

His whole bad boy act went away as he taught you, He made sure you understood everything that he said, he made sure you had the correct posture, unlike your brother who got thrown off right away. He was gentle, making sure to not put his hands anywhere that would make you uncomfortable, asking if you were doing alright, and when he let go and told you to take off, although it sort of took a couple tries, you definitely got it down faster than any of your other siblings, except Kiri your older sister obviously.

When the first time you managed to not get knocked off you swam back to Ao’nung, you were so happy and proud of what you had just done that you jumped on him giving him a big hug while shouting “I did it! I did it!” although it caught him off guard for a second, he found himself blushing hugging you back. “You did, I’m proud of you”.

You pulled back with your face flushed with a purple hue of embarrassment as you realized what you were doing with a quick apology. Ever since then, you guys have had these types of moments. You found yourself hanging out with Ao’nung more and more even when he's not teaching you a lesson.

You would sneak out late at night, making sure everyone was sleeping and that you were quiet enough not to wake them up. Ao’nung would wait for you at the end of the pathway/docks on his ilu and help you get on behind him, he would show you underwater caves he found while exploring, or sometimes you guys would race ilus, sometimes you won but it was rare but you still managed to keep up by his side.

One of the more common things you guys would do was stargaze together, just like you guys were doing right now. You and Ao’nung had both snuck out and had taken a break from racing against each other so there you both lay on your backs against the rock, side by side in a calming silence staring up at the stars.

“The stars are so pretty, especially tonight. Right Ao’nung?” You ask the boy laying next to you. “Yes, they are. The most beautiful…”

Turning your head you meet his aqua eyes staring back into yours with a gentle smile on his lips, you smile back as you scoot closer leaning your head on his chest. Over these couple of days, your feelings for Ao’nung have bloomed profusely, the more you hang out with each other you keep finding little things about him that make your crush grow more.

Maybe you should tell him, you thought you were sure he reciprocated the feelings so what could go wrong? “Hey Ao’nung, can I tell you a secret? '' You ask him, sitting up while looking at your hands, fidgeting nervously. He follows after you with a look of confusion and worry mixed on his face.

“Of course, You can tell me anything. What’s up?” It takes you a moment to muster up all the courage you have to let the simple 3 words out of your mouth, you could feel Ao’nung eyeing your face as you take deep breaths in.

“I like you,” you said while looking up from your hands in your lap to his face, waiting to see a smile and for him to tell you the same words back…Except he wasn't smiling when you looked up. In fact, he was actually frowning.

Were you mistaken? Had all the signs he was giving you just a big misunderstanding? Did you just make a big fool of yourself? A bad taste in your mouth erupted as you came to regret ever saying the words, had you just ruined your relationship with the one person you cherished the most?

Ao’nung rubs the back of his neck as he pulls away from you scooting back. “(Y/N)...I appreciate that, but we can’t. I'm Metkayina and you are Omaticaya. It would never work out...I’m sorry but I don’t feel the same…It’s getting late we should probably get going back to our Marui’s” he tells you as he fully stands up calling for his ilu. “I’ll see you later (Y/N)”. And with that, he left.

Shock ran through your whole body, You couldn't believe what just happened. Tears welled up in your eyes as you started to stand up calling for an ilu. How stupid were you to think that Ao’nung would like a Na’vi like you. Tears ran down your face to your chin and into the water, you don’t bother to wipe them either.

His words stayed echoing in your head like a broken record that got stuck on a verse and repeated the lyric over and over again. ‘It would never work’ ‘I don’t feel the same'

Your chest aches in sadness the whole ride back, quiet whimpers leaving your lips as you sniffle clearing your nose. You could taste the salt from the tears as you licked your lips. Why did I do that? Had you been misguided by all the moments you guys shared with each other alone? Thinking back to every memory of the times, he had made you a necklace with shells that were your favorite color, was that just a friendly gesture? The times when you guys would get lost in each other's eyes and fail to notice one another slowly leaning in, or maybe he did that by accident? You weren't sure but all you knew was that he doesn't like you back.

But little did you know how wrong you were about the boy. When he heard you say those words it was like a breath of fresh air, a wave of relief after finding out you liked him back but he had to push those feelings down as he rejected you and every word sent a pang of pain to his chest. He didn’t mean a word to you at all, In fact, he was in love with you. Out of all the other girls in his village, he could only picture you when he thought about someone who he could see himself growing old with.

When Ao’nung confessed to his parents about wanting to court you they didn't bother letting him finish as they immediately shot it down, telling Ao’nung no.

“ Mother, Father! Why? You guys have been bugging me to find someone to mate with, and when I do you refuse? Don’t you want your son to be happy? I love (Y/N). I wish to be mated before Eywa with her. I want her to be my future Tsahik. Don’t you understand?” He pleaded and pleaded with his parents begging them but they didn’t change his answer.

“No. That's our final word. We knew this would happen, so we have been searching through all the village girls that would be a perfectly suited mate for you. Kezä seems like a kind girl yeah? You guys will go on a date in a couple days to get familiar with each other.”

Kezä. She was one of Tsirey’s friends. He will not lie she was beautiful but she could never be compared to your beauty and alluring charm. Ao’nung saw through Kezä’s little fake persona she made everyone seem to see. She was fake, and an absolutely disgusting person. Hearing her name had already left a distaste in his mouth.

Ao’nung was exhausted at this point, emotionally and physically, his emotions were flying around everywhere. For once he thought his parents would support their son in finally finding someone he truly loved but all it seems is that they only care about their reputation and not about him.

When Ao’nung had finally reached his Marui he walked right in and went to his cot to lie down, but he wasn’t tired. He couldn't sleep with the fact that he had said all those things to you, He swore he could see the light from your face drain with every word stabbing one after another.

When he left he wanted to turn back around and run up to you, grab you in his tight embrace, and whisper in your ear that he was sorry, that what he said was all lies and it wasn't true. But it was already too late, the damage had been done.

Ao’nung didn’t want to give you false hope, he would rather choose your happiness over his own. If he had to tell you those things to make you stop liking him then he’ll say it, As much as it hurt him he would not let you live to be alone, he knew you would do that for him too.

His date with Kezä was to be tomorrow. Yes, Ao’nung was gonna go through with it but he was going to reject her after they finally got away from his mother, he was gonna set it straight that he didn’t love her and he only had eyes for you.

Unlike Ao’nung, Kezä was boasting with excitement, all that lying and fake acting paid off as she caught the Tsahik's attention and got just what she wanted. She had a crush on Ao’nung ever since they were younger, that's why she became friends with Tsireya, to get closer to him she didn't care about the girl a single bit nor did she feel bad, as long as Kezä got what she wanted it doesn't matter, she was willing to do anything to get Ao’nung.

Kezä was absolutely delusional, she created fake scenarios in her head so much that she lost touch with what was real and fake. In every interaction she had with Ao’nung, she always seemed to think too much about it when Ao’nung picked up the basket she dropped ‘accidentally’ and he picked it up for her, Ao’nung was just doing it because he was a well-mannered boy and it was his duty as the future Olo’eyktan to help his people, but to Kezä she thought Ao’nung was sending it subtle hints that he liked her.

Ao’nung dreaded every second that passed by ever since he opened his eyes this morning, his eyes were red and puffy from crying. Oh how much he regretted everything, why couldn't things go his way like he wanted them, It was supposed to be you that he was going on a date with not some girl he wanted nothing to do with.

Sadly Ao’nung was forced to get up and go out with her spending the whole day together. He will admit, those were the most depressing moments in his life as he dreaded every second of it. Right now they were currently walking on the shore side by side, although Ao’nung made sure there was a decent gap between him as Kezä kept trying to move closer.

Throughout the dreadful day, the only thing he could think about was you as they did everything. When they had gone ilu racing (it was more of him trying to get Kezä lost so he could leave though) she could hardly catch up with him, she was such a lousy rider he wouldn't be surprised if someone told him the girl wasn't a true Metkayina, her posture was all wrong, when she called the ilus it was too screechy. He swore he saw the ilus swimming away when she called after them.If it was you with him racing ilus you would have either been by his side the whole time or maybe even won.

Or when Ao’nung suggested they go hunting, as he watched her throw a spear it was absolutely embarrassing, it was like watching a baby except the baby would probably be better at throwing a spear, now you may not be good at hunting either but you sure knew what direction to throw it in, Kezä managed to throw it backward instead and it nearly grazed his arm as he stood there.

Then there was a moment when he and Kezä were walking past a group of children playing and one of them tripped and fell, causing the little boy to scrape up his knee, He was expecting Kezä to rush up to the little kid but he watched as she just laughed and pointed at the crying boy, telling him to stop being a baby. (he was literally a baby).

This was one of the reasons why he fell in love with you. You had the purest soul, ready to drop anything if someone was in need and that was an important trait that a Tsahik would need, to be prepared to take care of her people no matter what. If you had seen that little boy you would have rushed up to him, coddling him in your arms as you told him it was gonna be okay, you probably had some ointment and bandages in your bag too, as you were used to carrying stuff like that around due to always looking and taking care of Tuk. That's where your motherly instincts came from, sometimes he caught himself thinking about having children with you and hood of a mother you would be.

As it got later in the day Ao’nung and Kezä now stayed standing by a rock as Ao’nung told her that he needed to tell her something in private. Kezä thought nothing of it, she was thinking he was about to confess the undying love that he has for her and then he would whisk her away to the spirit tree and become mated before Eywa, oh how that poor girl was wrong…

“I want to get this straight and over with Kezä. I don’t like you at all, and Honestly, your presence makes me want to throw up in my mouth. I will never see you. I have my eyes on someone else and I love them. I hope you can understand. I apologize for wasting your time today, I was forced to hang out with you, I never wanted to be here in the first place.”

As every word entered Kezä ears it added to the fuming anger, if this was a cartoon she would have steam coming out from her ears and her whole body would be red. She could not believe he said those things to her.

“You're joking, right? Jokes are supposed to be funny and this isn't funny, I know you like me Ao’nung you don't have to hide from me because I like you too! You didn’t think I saw those hints you were giving me? Come one ma Ao’nung” She said as she walked close to Ao’nung trailing a finger over her chest as he was backing up.

‘What is wrong with the girl?!’ Ao’nung thought “I’m not joking Kezä, I don’t know what you are talking about ‘hints’ but I have given you none. I don’t like you.” He yells smacking her hand away as he backs up more. He was starting to get quite scared and creeped out by the girl.

Kezä scoffed and turned her back to Ao’nung laughing. She shook her head, she wasn’t blind. She saw you and Ao’nung sneak out together before but she could never guess her Ao’nung would grow feelings for a such foreign creature, you and your family never belonged her in the first place. In the corner of her eye, she saw you walking towards them. ‘Oh this is perfect.’ she thought as she turned back around to the boy still behind her.

“Hmm, I guess you're right Ao’nung I was in the wrong. Can I just tell you one last thing before I go though?” She said taking a whole 180 and a pout on her lips. Ao’nung could only roll his eyes as he was over the girl and was ready to get away from her. “Sure whatever, What is it?-”

Soon he was cut off as he gets shoved with his back against the rock as Kezä forces her lips on his as she grabs his hands moving them around her. He stood in shock not knowing what to do as he struggled against her.

“Ao’nung! Are you over here- Oh….Uhm I’m so sorry for interrupting you guys…” Ao’nungs eyes widen as he hears the sound of your voice. Finally winning, he manages to push the girl off of him with a strong shove and she falls into the sand landing on her bottom.

“(Y/N)! Wait come back it's not what you think it is! Please! Let me explain!” He screamed out to you as he was running after you to catch up.

What had happened was you went looking for Ao’nung, You wanted to tell him to just forget about what you said so you guys would go back to being normal friends again, but of course, when you found him he was locking lips with another girl.

The familiar pain began to grow in your chest as you witnessed the scene happening before your eyes but you could bear it no longer as you muttered a quick apology for interrupting and running away.

Tears rushed through your eyes as if it were pouring down rain, one after another, they just kept falling and falling. This time you couldn't hold back your cries. You let them out one by one as they began to come out louder and louder, Your vision goes blurry, you could hardly make out anything in front of you, you were just hoping you won’t run into anything or anyone.

You call for your ilu and hop on as you quickly swim away. You could hear the sounds of Ao’nung calling your name but you ignored them. You needed to cool down, You could hardly deal with the emotional pain you were going through right now, Breaths were coming in and out shaky.

Finally, you reach one of the underwater caves Ao’nung had brought you and you crawl into the deepest corner and begin to let everything out. Screams bounced amongst the walls as you wailed your sorrows out.

‘He really didn’t like me, this whole time he was after another girl’

��How could I be so stupid not to see that.’

Hiccups interrupted your cries in between, you punched the ground as you watched a droplet of tears pool by your fist, You were angry, sad, and embarrassed.

As you hear the movement of water , meaning someone was entering the cave, you slap your hand over your mouth and do your best to muffle the whimpers. “(Y/N)? (Y/N)! Oh my Eywa, Please let me explain what happened.” Ao’nung hopped off the ilu and walked into the cave, getting closer to you.

Although the cave was dark, the bioluminescent plants gave off enough light to reflect off your face and show him your red puffy eyes and tear-stained cheeks. He had felt as if his heart shattered. Seeing you like that caused him physical pain. He moved closer trying to pull you into a hug but you would only scoot away yelling at him to leave over and over again.

“Okay! I will leave just hear me out and let me explain what happened!” His voice began to shake as he dropped to his knees.

“What is there to say? You rejected me and I saw you kissing a girl. You don’t like me! Just leave me alone. I don’t want to see you right now.” You continue to yell at him, some of your words muffled or slurred as you buried your face in your hands.

“I love you (Y/N)!”

As the words left his mouth you froze. You force yourself to calm down and take deep breaths before pulling away from your hands and looking at the boy on his knees in front of you, who had tears sliding down his cheeks as well. “What did you say?” You ask not trusting what you heard thinking that all this crying was making you start to hear things.

“It's true! Please believe me! I know what I said earlier but none of that is true! I see you (Y/N). I always had since the moment I met you- I was dumb to reject you because of my parents, I don't care what they say, let them be mad, yell at me, punish me, as long as I will have you by my side I am happy. Please understand, I love you. And what you saw earlier was not what it seemed, She pushed herself on me, and forced me to kiss her but I swear I didn’t, I pushed her off right away! I don’t like her at all she's just a girl my parents forced me to hang out with for the day. The whole time I had to spend with her, you were the only thing on my mind! Please believe me (Y/N)!” Ao’nung cried out, pleading for you to forgive him as he could not take another second of you being sad and him being the cause of it.

He gets up and walks closer to you before crouching down in front of you. You listened to every word closely while sniffling and whipping tears away. Staring up at him, finally being able to see him clearly with no tears in the way you get up and stand in front of him.

“You swear?” You say barely above a whisper, voice hoarse from screaming. You both look into each other's eyes, Ao’nung stands up now towering over you, and cups your face with both hands caressing your cheeks.

“I swear. I see you (Y/N). You are the only person I love. I want you to be by my side for the rest of my life” He whispers back leaning in closer, forehead resting against yours, some tears leaving his eyes as he shut them tightly.

Reaching up you cup his face back and use your thumbs to wipe away the tears. “I love you too Ao’nung,” you say, taking in a deep breath with one last sniffle and closing the gap between the both of you, lips against the other and they move in sync.

You thanked Eywa that it was all a big misunderstanding, and that your true love actually loved you back.

#atwow #avatar the way of water #atwow x reader #atwow imagine #avatar x reader #aonung x reader #ao’nung #ao’nung x reader #☆ — ao’nung ˖˚⊹

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fallenmonsters · 8 days

Text

red flags.

summary ➳ you’re way worse than yeonjin personality-wise, but jaejun couldn’t care less when you treat him better than she ever did, even when you’re also married and may or may not just be using him.

pairings ➳ jeon jaejun x male reader

warnings ➳ nsfw content, foul language, top!reader, bottom!jaejun, probably ooc jaejun, infidelity, mafia!toxic!reader, consumption of nicotine and alcohol, marking, possessiveness, unprotected sex, rough couch sex, pet names, choking, overstimulation, dacryphilia, shotgunning, cock warming, sir kink, jealousy, brief burn kink, mentions of murder, manipulation

author’s note ➳ toxic reader >>>>>> toxic characters

MINORS DNI !!

The scent of sex and alcohol combines together in the dimly lit room, orange hues casting shadows on furnitures as the sound of gasps and whimpers fill the arousing atmosphere. Two shot glasses and a bottle of whiskey as expensive as diamonds laid on the table, now entirely ignored by the sole persons who had previously been drinking it to no end. Photographs, which seems to have been taken in secret, scattered alongside them in random orders; one in particular captured Park Yeonjin entering Siesta Luxury Shop.

“Stay still, ‘jun. Wouldn’t want me to get more angry, do you?” You ordered, lowly and warningly, gripping the trembling man’s hips with one hand and narrowing your eyes.

Jaejun shakes, gasping when you forced him to properly sit on your lap, prepped hole stretched to the brim and completely filled by your thick and long cock. He leans back on your chest and holds both of your thighs in a death grip, biting his lower lip to contain himself from moving. You hum quietly in a pleased manner against his ear that had him nearly squirming, throwing his head back to rest it on your shoulder and revealing the hickeys littered around his neck.

Your hand that was previously on his hip moves up to trail your fingers against the purple bruises and love bites you created yourself, amusement glinting in your eyes when he shivered. “You look really pretty all marked up like this. Perhaps, you could go out with your little friends sometime with all these visible so they’ll know just who exactly you fuck behind their backs.” The humiliation in your tone makes Jaejun flush as a quiet whimper escapes his throat, trying to hide his red face by burying it on the crook of your neck. The lack of his usual arrogance and cockiness gives you a surge of pride and ego, striking you further with arousal and lust.

Jeon Jaejun was by all means not a man without power. He’s always got the upper hand, whether in business or personal matters, and didn’t like having no control over the people or situation itself. He’s been an influential figure since he was young, growing up with golden spoon being fed to him by his wealthy parents who couldn’t be bothered to teach him basic human decency, which build him up to look down upon those who didn’t get a luxury to be like him. Inevitably, it built an excessive belief within himself that there’s just no one more superior and powerful, that he’d always be on top controlling and ordering people around.

But then, you came in and shattered everything he believed in with just few flicks of your hand.

Park Yeonjin’s older brother who’s got a long history of rivalry with Yeonjin herself, everyone was shocked to find out your influence and power exceeded that of theirs with many successful businesses and connections that goes beyond anyone’s imagination, grinning tauntingly at your own sister and proudly mocking her lack of capabilities in building things for herself without your mother’s help. You were quite the mysterious man, a conventionally attractive individual that had respectful manners and sultry eyes which had an unknown glint that pulls people in. A certain confidence to the way you present yourself, cool and collected demeanour surrounding your every being with pride and ego evident but not too much to appear narcissistic. You give off a high-class, elegant, well-mannered, intimidating wealthy man at first glance with multiple tattoos inked to your skin, several piercings, and a scent of expensive woody cologne mixed with slightest hint of cigarettes.

You’re the type of person who everyone will know at first glance that held a lot of power more than anyone could possibly imagine, your atmosphere giving off a silent warning to those who are foolish enough to even consider you as an enemy. There’s a certain look in your eyes that just intimidates people to submit to your doings, forcibly putting them in their places — below you, that is — and making them stay there regardless of status. You held the lives of those around you in the palm of your hand from how much power you had on society. Terrifyingly, you had done it all by yourself without help from Hong Yeong-ae, which spoke volumes of your capabilities and accomplishments.

It’s simply impossible to have control over you, Jaejun learned it the hard way.

Besides, how could he take it back when it feels utterly good being claimed and controlled by you?

“I— fuck, sir—” Jaejun cursed, feeling desperate for friction when staying still became harder as time pass by. He tilts his head sideways with a moan when you nibble on his jaw, kissing sweetly on the spot before biting down.

“It’s only been fifteen minutes, ‘jun. Quit it.” You mutter against his ear, bringing your hand to press on his stomach that had him twitching and squeezing around you. “Feel that? Got my cock nice and warm in there, doin’ such a good job of it.” You chuckled under your breath and brought a cigarette to your lips, inhaling the intoxicating nicotine.

Tears brim in Jaejun’s eyes due to desperation, eagerly accepting the smoke exhaled from your mouth when you leaned in and closing the distance to taste your lips. You quickly slipped your tongue in his mouth, exploring and rubbing his tongue with yours, making his head cloud with pleasure. He was forced to break the kiss when you suddenly thrusted your hips up and pulled a loud moan out of him, your name tumbling down from his mouth.

“shit, fuck— please,” He pleaded quietly and arched his back to cause a little friction.

You teasingly smirk at him, “I don’t know, love. Should I really fuck you? You’ve already fucked someone else this morning, after all.” Pressing kisses on his bare neck and shoulder, you held him down with one hand to keep him from fucking himself.

Jaejun shakes his head rapidly, “Didn’t— I didn’t even fuckin’ enjoyed it, fuck! Just please please, let me have it, sir.”

You let out a low chuckle, uncaring of his growing urge to pleasure himself, too comfortable with the warmth surrounding your cock. “Why fuck someone when you don’t even enjoy it, then? You and I both know how much you love getting your guts rearranged like a fuckin’ bitch by me.” You brought the cigarette back to your lips and inhaled the smoke, holding it in your lungs for a second before releasing it, the routine feeling somewhat therapeutic.

The male gritted his teeth and grasped your left hand in his shaking one to bite on the ring finger as a slightest bit of rebellion, trying his best to shoot you a glare. “F-fucking asshole… ngh! M’gonna fuckin’ ask you the same.”

There’s jealousy evident in his tone and you glanced down at your finger that he bit, only then remembering the silver wedding ring graciously wrapped around it. “Ahh, almost forgot. Haven’t seen her for a long time, do you think she misses me?” Jaejun bites back a retort at your amused face, knowing you were only saying it to get a rise out of him, yet he still can’t help the prickle of pain that struck his heart and squeezed his chest.

You’re such a fucking asshole, even more than him, and he hated it. But he could never bring himself to despise you no matter what, not when you hold him so dearly every-time you see each other, as if you were married to him.

Your amused expression falls when he doesn’t answer and you thrust your hip up roughly, pulling a startled moan out of him as you grip his jaw in a slightly painful way. “You’re in no place to ignore me, Jaejun. You’re the one that started this in the first place, calling my sister over to your shop when I told you not to. What’s wrong with me talking a little about my wife?”

The displeasure in your eyes make chills run up his spine and causes several apologies to spill from his lips, not wanting to disappoint you more and end up being thrown away for your trophy wife just because he failed to be good. He knew there’s no one better than him out there, but you’re always capable of throwing him away to find someone else that suits your taste more. After all, you only wanted him in the first place because he belonged to your despicable little sister. Even he was not special in your eyes.

Your eyes soften at the small panic in his apologetic voice, sliding your hand up to rest your palm on his cheek instead and rolling your hips to stimulate his aching cunt. Jaejun’s apologies quiet down, whimpering and moaning softly at the pleasure you were finally giving him.

“You’ve got nothing to worry about, baby. m’just pissed it looks like you don’t know you belong to me now.” You nipped at his shoulder before harshly biting down, making Jaejun groan and jerk in pain. You licked the blood that seeped out, your cock twitching inside him at the taste. “You’re already mine, ‘jun. Not Yeonjin’s, and definitely not Hyejeong’s.”

Jaejun trembled at the possessiveness in your tone, whining desperately as his warm hole clamps down on your cock in arousal. It turned him on how tight you had a grip on him, the thought of not being able to escape your hold bringing a new sense of euphoria within his body.

Have you ever even treated your wife this way? Anyone could see in business gatherings how uninterested you are despite being tied down to her, the nonchalance, neutrality in your eyes and certain coldness in the way you speak to her, as if reminding her of her place, putting a clear image in people’s head. Jaejun almost pitied your wife in a way, being married to someone as cruel as you.

You thrusted your hips in an angle that rubbed against his prostate and Jaejun cries out, before you completely pulled out and shoved him down face first on the sofa without giving him time to process. Jaejun’s breath hitches when the smell of nicotine nears him, fear and lust evident in his eyes as he takes in the sight of your cigarette few inches away from his shoulder. He stays still in spite of knowing your intention, breathing hard as excitement rushed through his veins.

“You know this very well, baby. I’ll kill anyone who’d dare steal you away from me,” You grin devilishly and lean down, pulling him slightly up by his throat to expose his collarbones. Jaejun hisses and groans loudly when the cigarette burned his skin, precum leaking out of his cock as he jerked his hips on the rough material of the sofa. “and I’ll kill you if you ever try to run away from me.”

“f-fuck—! jesus christ,” He whimpered, feeling the burn sting and worryingly so fucking turned on by your threat.

Holding his shoulder down with one hand, you slipped your hard cock back into his hole again and shoved it all in without warning, ripping out a loud cry of your name from Jaejun’s throat. “Fuuuuck, so tight.” You cursed, licking your lips before beginning to thrust your cock in and out without waiting for him to adjust.

“w-wait—! I can’t— ohhh, oh my god!” Jaejun grips on the leather couch tightly as he moaned, electricity sparkling in his head and pleasure clouding his mind.

“Your hole’s so tight every-time I mark you up with my cigarette,” You murmured against the skin on his nape. Just as anticipated, your teeth sink in few seconds later to leave another mark that had Jaejun gasping, tightening more around you if that was possible.

“ho— holy shit! aughh—! more, fuckfuckfuck—! please,” He begged while arching his back, which you willingly fulfilled, sharply snapping your hips to assault his prostate and gummy walls.

Jaejun looked so pretty and handsome covered in your marks, countless hickeys and love bites decorating his neck, chest, nape, and back, his black robe deeming useless as it barely hung on his body. He’s nothing but helpless under you; a moaning mess who can’t do anything except take what you give, tears streaming down his cheeks as he attempted to stay coherent. His efforts are useless, of course. He’s already becoming a dumb bitch for your dick.

You slipped your hand to his throat while keeping your pace, grunting in his ear and chuckling breathlessly. “If you want me to get rid of my wife, just say the word and I’ll do it.” You whispered, making Jaejun shiver. “Unlike my bullshit of a sister, I’m not afraid to make you officially mine.”

Your words dig into his brain yet he couldn’t muster up a coherent response from all the euphoria he felt, drool dripping down his chin as all he could do was moan and whine and scream your name. He scratches against the sofa in attempt to ground himself, but failing to do so as your thrusts kept hitting every right spot, his eyes almost rolling back into his skull.

“Can’t speak properly now? Have I fucked you dumb, baby?”

“yes— yesyesyes, fuck, there— fuckin’ good!” Jaejun sobbed, his body trembling.

His tears looked so pretty on his fucked-out face. Jaejun rarely ever cries, and it made you fucking egotistical how you can easily do it with just few thrusts of your hips. His arrogance was your most favourite thing about him, but only because you get to ruin it and reduce him into nothing but your bitch. It’s amusing, really. The humiliation he gets makes him feel so ashamed, but you knew well enough that Jaejun could never handle being away from you. You had him completely under your grasp, all you had to do is just pamper him with affection and whisper love and false promises to his ear.

There’s nothing you love more than having control over Jaejun. How easily he fell into your trap, how he doesn’t realise he was being used against Yeonjin, how putty he becomes in your arms with just few words. You found him foolish yet was addicted to his presence and can’t be bothered to let go. It’s laughable how you feel overprotective of him enough that whoever flirts with Jaejun turns up dead the next day under mysterious circumstances. You had a bit of a problematic habit of burying your enemies to the ground, not like Jaejun even knows.

“fuck, ‘jun…” You groaned, “Whose bitch are you again? Will you remind me, baby?”

“Yours!” Jaejun cried out as he feels his orgasm approaching and intertwines his hand with yours that wasn’t holding his throat, as if not clinging to you would pain him. “shitshitshit, oh my god—! m’yours, fuck! Jus’ yours, sir, promise!” He babbled, mind-fucked.

“Good, you know your place well.” You praised and suddenly squeezed his arteries, making Jaejun gasp as his cock twitched against the sofa, stars sparkling in his vision. “I’m the only one allowed to fuck you like this, hear me? You fuck around again n’ I’ll make sure those losers can’t see a day anymore.” You thrusted sharply and Jaejun sobs. “That includes my fucking sister.”

“oh— aghhnn-! fuck, yes, only you— oh fuck, oh fuck, so close— sir—!” He mumbles, the coil in his stomach tightening. “please let me cum, sir. please, pleaseplease,” He chokes up.

The corner of your lips pull up to form a pleased smirk, tightening your hold on Jaejun’s throat and cutting off his airway that caused him to clench around you and squirm. “Good boy. Cum.” You ordered almost authoritatively, and as if that’s the only push he needed, Jaejun’s mouth fall open in a silent scream as he reached his climax, eyes rolling back into his skull.

You groan at the extra tightness and maintain your pace, helping him ride out his orgasm, Jaejun’s body violently shaking from the immense pleasure with white clouding his vision. Jaejun whimpered your name when you continued to move and peppered kisses on his back. His thighs quivered from overstimulation. He was entirely blissed out, hazy eyes unfocused, soft whines and mewls falling from his lips.

However, the gentle moment doesn’t last long as you pulled your cock almost all the way out and suddenly slammed it all in, Jaejun letting out a startled scream and staining the leather underneath with another rope of white cum.

“We’re not finished,” You whispered darkly against his ear and grinned at his pale face, gripping his hips so tight to leave a bruise. “I haven’t cum yet, dog. It’s rude to finish without letting your owner cum, you know.”

“W-wait— FUCK!”

You shoved him down when he attempted to crawl up, burying yourself deeper into his guts. You licked your lips and propped one of your legs up to prepare for a much better fucking.

“I fucking love you, Jaejun, you know that? So let me use you and make me cum, yeah? Then, you can spend the whole day here with all my cum still inside you. What do you say?”

You really hated vanilla — after all, what’s the point of sex if you can’t use the other to chase your own pleasure?

“……Please.”

You smiled, “Good boy.”

Cigarette in between your fingers and addictive smoke exiting your mouth, you tilt your head with curiosity and observation. The woman before you remain unfazed despite the clear disturbed look in her eyes at your resemblance with Park Yeonjin, the indifference — almost psychopathy — in your emotionless eyes aligning with her memory of the terrible bully. It’s like staring at a ghost that had something inhumane within.

“You must’ve planned this well,” You cast a glance at all the evidence of Yeonjin’s pathetic attempt at keeping her relevance by hurting those below her standard. “The bitch’s hard to keep up with, I can’t say I’m not impressed by your determination.”

Joo Yeojeong, the plastic surgeon that accompanied her out of concern, seemingly looked surprised by your antagonistic attitude to your own blood. Moon Dongeun doesn’t seem to be the case as she barely reacted, probably having already investigated you although it isn’t unknown that you have a personal vendetta against your family member.

You’re quite open to the public of your distaste to your good-for-nothing family, often answering the questions about them with too much passive-aggressiveness that everyone easily caught up on. Simply an outstanding individual that built up businesses from zero all on your own and created great reputation among the best businessmen and women without a single mention of any family member, there were rumours of the possibility that either they’re deceased or you had a fall out, and you took that to your advantage. By laying out warnings that even your family wouldn’t be forgiven had they ever cross you, you established power and authority among many influential figures and anyone alike.

Dongeun has researched you well enough to know hatred wasn’t exactly the word to describe your perspective of Yeonjin. It’s more than distaste, rivalry, detestation, loathe, or anything.

You, quite simply, wanted Yeonjin gone.

Is it psychopathy? Derangement? Mania? Insanity? Not knowing the cause of your behaviour never fails to send chills down her spine, your questionable morals and unpredictability nothing but unsettling and sinister more than your sister’s. Luckily, Yeojeong’s there to keep her nerves at ease.

“I’m not here to chat,” She says, voice wavering.

“Obviously not.” You reply indifferently, crossing your leg over the other and inhaling a smoke, blowing it over your shoulder.

Good manners, Dongeun takes a mental note.

“I’m asking for your understanding in advance,” She stated, watching your nonchalant expression slightly shift as you raise your brows. “I don’t want to run into unpredictable problems while executing my revenge. I know my place, I’ll be unsuccessful if you happen to dislike any other people going against Yeonjin. You’ve got quite the reputation in black organisations.”

She takes out another see-through file and slides it to you across the table, an amused scoff escaping your mouth at the sight of your gang’s symbol — a grim reaper, with snake circling it, holding a scythe — on the upper section of the document. Her investigation skills were impressive, to say the least. No one knows about your side job with an exception of certain people.

Deep, raspy chuckle rumbles from your throat and your companions resisted the urge to shiver. What an odd sight it was, an intrigued grin plastered over your previously blank face.

“Great observation, eh? I’m definitely that kind of type.” You shrug, “But I can assure you, I don’t give a damn about whatever you do to her. I found it ridiculous that she’s become so cocky and self-righteous these past years when Ha Doyoung and Hong Yeong-ae are the only reason she’s still relevant, and the latter’s already losing a thing to be prideful of. Imbeciles like them deserves to be put in their places.”

Yeojeong perks up at that. “Wait, does that mean…?”

“You have my blessing to make Park Yeonjin’s life a living hell,” You smirked.

Dongeun observes your body language; a deeply comfortable and relaxed demeanour with not a single ounce of remorse or guilt that you’re practically sending your own sister to an execution site. “You’re surprisingly easy to convince,” She commented.

Amusement glints in your eyes, almost accompanied by mockery as you chuckled. “Don’t give yourself too much credit, Ms. Moon. I’ve already been making Yeonjin’s life fall apart and I’m allowing you to join in. There wasn’t much convincing.”

“Why do you want Park Yeonjin’s downfall that much?” Yeojeong questioned curiously. “I thought your blood is still your blood even when you don’t see eye to eye all the time.”

You brought the cigarette to your lips and smiled, almost sinisterly, while tilting your head, an unsettling look more clearer in your eyes as you stared into their soul. “I kill people for a living, what makes you think I’ll have mercy on people who had long lost their purpose and significance in my life?”

Dongeun’s hands trembled under the table. Yeojeong swallowed thickly, the serial killer who had ruined his life before entering his mind all of a sudden due to the remote resemblance.

“Oh, I almost forgot.” As if you hadn’t been talking so cruelly about your family, an out-of-place cheerful and friendly grin appears on your face. “Jeon Jaejun is off-limits, Ms. Moon. I couldn’t care less what you do to him as long as he comes back to me alive.” You leaned in and tapped slowly on the photography of Jaejun, eyes trailing across your favourite toy’s feature.

Dongeun paused, remembering the one photograph Kang Hyeonnam managed to capture. You with your arm possessively wrapped around Jaejun’s shoulders as he talked with a certain woman, piercingly staring at her with a clear warning.

“Right, you’re possessive of Jaejun.” She remarked after a while. “If I didn’t know any better, I would say you’re in love with him.”

You let out a laugh under your breath, extinguishing the lit cigarette by pressing it on the ashtray. “Well, he’s quite an adorable dog.” You leaned back on the office chair, “But you’re correct about that.”

“Don’t you think you’re protecting him because you like him?” Dongeun genuinely asked.

The lack of malice in her tone let you know she wasn’t looking down on you, just making an assumption that she thought was possible, which is why you remained neutral in spite of your tendency to get irritated quickly. You feel like you could have genuine conversation with this woman and perhaps, even form an alliance, because not once had she gotten into your nerves this entire meeting. Her well-mannered attitude and calm, sophisticated personality did nothing but please you. It’s actually refreshing to meet someone who isn’t an obtuse fucking asshole that pretends to be something. She’s fearless, of course, but she perfectly knew her place and yours.

“Would you call it protecting when I’m even allowing you to do whatever you please with him?” You fired back, smiling almost genuinely at her. “I don’t care if he comes back to me crippled or blind as long as he’s breathing, because I simply refuse to mind someone else’s business. This is your revenge. I’ve got no plans interfering with something that doesn’t affect me nor my businesses.”

“You didn’t ask me why I’m doing this,” Dongeun wonders out loud. “Did you already know?”

“Of course,” You admitted with a nonchalant shrug. “I already had something planned ahead for the big final revelation of my beautiful younger sister,” You sneered with sarcasm. “But this is much more fitting for her. I have too much things to do to look through your evidence and figure out which ones you haven’t gotten yet, so I’ll just send you everything I’ve gathered myself.”

Slight surprise appeared on both of their faces and they exchanged a glance before Dongeun looked back to you. “That’s… helpful, but in exchange for what?”

You smiled, glad that it’s easy for her to figure out your intent. “Their absolute damnation.”

Dongeun stares at you, feeling the silent threats hanging in the air. Looking at your eyes glinting in mischief was enough; the failure to condemn Park Yeonjin and the others will result in her getting placed in the execution site with them. It was an oath from you to her, that she will gain all of your support in her plans, but can easily lose it once something doesn’t go according to plan.

You flashed a grin at her, leaning on your elbows. “Once everything goes smooth and they’re rotting either in prison or somewhere six feet under, I’ll give you a grace to be on the off-limits list in our organisation. That means you’ll be under my protection and not a single one of my men can harm you, even me.”

“What if you break it?” Yeojeong instantly chimes in, his concern evident for the woman.

“Then, I’ll cut my throat.” You don’t miss a beat to reply, making them widen their eyes. “People like us take deals, promises and oaths very seriously. Breaking them simply makes us a disgrace to the organisation, even the one that built it, so we tend to avoid going against what we initially agreed upon.”

Dongeun goes silent for a moment, contemplation plastered on her face, but gave you a nod afterwards. “That’ll be fine.” Her expression then shifts into a skeptical look, “But wouldn’t it be troublesome for you if Jeon Jaejun finds out you’re helping me?”

Your lips outstretched into a twisted smile that Dongeun and Yeojeong can’t be sure they’ll ever get used to.

“He doesn’t have to — what he doesn’t know can’t hurt him, can it?”

Jaejun would come to you for help, he was adorable like that. He’d tell you about Moon Dongeun and her revenge against him. You just have to pretend you know nothing and take care of him, like you always do, and comfort him — so he would finally realise you’re the only one he can truly rely on. Not anyone, not Yeonjin, but you.

I’m so happy you’ve come this far, baby sis.

You thought to yourself, watching as a servant poured you and your two guests a red wine.

Everything you surrounded yourself with, is mine.

I win again, so I thank you with all my heart.

You’ve always been better than her and it’s going to stay that way, even with her ex-lover.

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