#if it’s meant to be a moment of reflection maybe leave that up to the individual to decide how they want to reflect

[angelicdanvers]

THE CLEARING | luke castellan.

pairing: luke castellan x fem!reader prompt: “i could admire you all day.” by @normal-internet-user

summary: a sweet moment in the clearing of pearls. takes place before tlt. wc: 1.2k

a/n: i'm back in my luke castellan phase and this time, unapologetically :') ik ik, he's the enemy. totally :D i haven't written in so long, i really hope you guys enjoy this! i eventually will make a collection of these on my wattpad (of the same username). have a great day/night! <3

camp half-blood was just as rhythmic as any other day. the campers were up and running, tending to chores or activities, chiron was introducing some new campers, mr. d had his legs hitched up on the table and was slumbering.

and yet — somehow — something still felt off to y/n. she couldn’t put her finger on it. for a child of ares, she was undeniably observant of her surroundings, ready to feed a punch, but she didn’t see nor feel anyone around. 

often times, she realized it was her subconscious warning her of her siblings’ antics. despite coming off as a cold hearted bitch, y/n was quite the opposite and everyone in camp knew. whether they experienced her dual sidedness face to face, they heard of it and believed it. it wasn’t common for all the ares children, even clarisse, to like one person, sibling, mutually. yet y/n was that sibling.

she didn’t mind it. the eighteen year old was one of the oldest and made it her duty to keep everyone in check, even if that meant going against her easy way out — anger. her siblings often appreciated that despite not showing it, but sometimes clarisse had a lot to say.

this definitely wasn’t one of those times, though.

clarisse had just come by and helped y/n braid two of their younger sisters’ hair, the two chatting normally and without any apparent trouble.

then what in the world kept nagging her?

she kept sensing an odd aura around camp. maybe it was the gods’ doing. maybe.

sighing, she sat on the cabin floor, watching as the last of her brothers walked out. she began tying her laces, fixing the tongue on her boots. her instincts picked up as she heard soft crunches from the side of the cabin. grabbing her sword, she walked out diligently, observing the area around her and positioning the sword towards the crunches. she carefully examined the reflection, absolutely no sight of anyone. stiff, she shrugged off her unease, heading down the paths and to her clearing.

the clearing had a waterfall cascading at the heart, a sparkling little pool in the centre. for nine in the morning, the earth was still dewy and the crisp scent of the woodlands surrounded her senses.

inhaling deeply, y/n stepped towards her favourite boulder and slid her shirt off. one by one, she stripped down until she was in her bikini, and fixed her locks to be appropriate for swimming. once ready, she slowly dipped her foot in, the coolness of the water pulsing through her body and sending a jolt within her. 

a mere moment later, y/n was wading in the water, beginning to take laps around the pool. she always had a surge of energy in water that always made her wonder if she was actually poseidon’s daughter — of course, she wasn’t, but maybe she had to thank him for her love of water. maybe. maybe it was just her and the gods really didn't impact her.

submerging underneath, the girl opened her eyes and scanned the bottom. on her lucky days, she’d find little pearls the nymphs would leave behind. she'd have to personally thank them one day. her growing collection was all towards making special beads for campers who’d been there for a significant amount of time, symbolizing their individuality. she was thinking of giving annabeth and luke one to add to their necklaces before all else.

squinting, y/n saw a shimmering area in the corner. charging towards it, she picked it up and examined it with her hands; the water was getting rather hazy. these pearls were heavier, and with more texture than she’d ever felt.

smiling to herself, she carefully held it within her palms, swimming further up and merging out of water. she felt the sun shining on her, and she braced for the sudden light adjustment.

and then the sun was gone.

her brows furrowed, and y/n cracked open an eye, glancing towards where she felt the sun mere moments ago. instead of trees and simple clouds, she saw a lean figure wearing an orange shirt and khaki cargos, arms folded across their chest. she knew those arms.

“gods, what are you doing here?” y/n questioned, slightly lowering herself into the water and staring at the male before her.

he stifled a chuckle, his signature smirk playing on his lips. “what? can’t a guy be with his girlfriend?”

“luke,” she warned, “didn’t we agree to not be around each other unless we actually had a plan to sneak off?”

the curly haired boy shrugged. “like that’ll stop me.”

“luke, c’mon. if anything, we can’t have anyone find out like this.”

he shook his head, “they won’t know a thing.” he nodded towards annabeth’s cap. 

y/n had to admit, his desperation to be with her in any way was the most adorable and hot thing she’d ever witnessed. “did you at least ask her for it?”

“yes ma’am.”

y/n smiled toothily, wading towards the edge and climbing out. luke watched her every move, enthralled by her beauty. he wasn’t sure how he even convinced her to go on that first date, considering she had a knee on his chest and a sword to his neck. too bad he’s the best swordsman and pinned her down next. 

how could she say no after that?

she found him quite intriguing as well.

luke followed his girl as she went over to the boulder, grabbing her towel and gently drying herself off. he headed up behind her, taking the towel from her arms and drying her back off for her. 

“that still hasn’t healed,” he noted, tracing the scar on her shoulder blade. y/n’s body melted at his touch, and the chills she felt were replaced with flames. 

“yeah,” she whispered as luke softly turned her around, wrapping the towel around her body. he brought her body closer to his, putting his index to her chin and tilting her head up.

“you know, i could admire you all day.”

“and why is that?”

he laughed, “with that sexy soul and sweet hobby of collecting pearls, how could i not?”

y/n felt her cheeks grow hot, a soft grin making its way to her face. “i could say the same, pretty boy.”

"who are you giving those pearls to?"

"if i said who, wouldn't the surprise be ruined?" she quirked, tilting her head to the side a little. "eh, word on the street keeps mentioning the best swordsman."

luke smirked, satisfied with her answer, his black hair gleaming in the sly sunlight. y/n cupped the left side of his face, tracing her fingers on the scar to his right. their eyes couldn’t leave one another’s, an enigmatic energy floating amongst them.

“i want to kiss you,” luke’s voice was lower than before, his grip tightening around her waist.

“do it,” y/n mustered up, fluster traversing through every bone in her body. 

without second thought, luke pressed the girl against his body, capturing her lips. y/n’s fingers trailed to his hair, tugging at the curls as their lips intwined passionately.

the teenagers yearned for each other, their love enveloping around them as they remained  in their locked position. luke’s lips were as light as a feather but had a hold on y/n that she was sure no other could.

breathless, the two pulled away for a moment before luke pulled her in again for a quick, feverish kiss. “i love you,” he rasped, staring deep into her riveting eyes.

“i love you, luke.”

their admiration could only grow from there. 

or so they thought.

[l-uminescent]

˚⁀➷｡˚ KINSLAYER ━━━ AEMOND TARGARYEN X FEM! READER

part two.

synopsis: rhaenyra’s daughter seeks revenge for the death of her beloved younger brother lucerys velaryon. and what better way to gain it, than from the man she was once betrothed to.

notes: did i steal daemon’s plot? yes. did the reader do it better? also yes. fuck aemond targaryen (who is 22 here) for killing lucerys fr, and fuck tumblr for making me repost this bc they shadowbanned me :(

warnings: reader is rhaenyra’s daughter, angst, violence, mention of blood, future hotd spoiler (battle above the gods eye)

word count: 3.9k

ONCE UPON A TIME YOU HAD THOUGHT YOU HAD KNOWN WHAT LOVE HAD FELT LIKE. being betrothed to none over than aemond targaryen in an attempt to ensure peace between the divided targaryen house, had gave you a sense of hope. the childish crush you had on the one-eyed prince had long exceeded into your adulthood (unbeknownst to you for a long while). and the news that you were to be married to the man you had felt so deeply for, had you thanking the gods that you were to be so lucky. 

for much of your adulthood, you denied the feelings you had for aemond. brushing the giddiness you felt when you were younger off as a fleeting childhood crush. now, the crimson paint that adorned your cheeks you put down to a sense of duty; you had to act the blushing bride in order to do your part for the realm. your mother's constant reminders that it was you who could maintain the peace between dragons, made you believe it was a sense of duty to your house; to prevent the bloodshed and the path to destruction that would follow if blood was spilt. as time went on, you begrudgingly admitted to yourself that maybe, just maybe, the small minuscule crush you had on the prince, in fact never left. you often reflected on the times where you had lived in king's landing with your family, often choosing to spend time with the second son of the king. you two were inseparable, where aemond went you were sure to not be too far behind. often, challenging each other on who would learn the most high valyrian words in a day, and who would learn the history of their ancestors first. it was a match the gods intended.

however, this sue for peace had crumbled completely. only a mere memory in your mind of what could have been if the targayren house was not so ignorant to the fact that women had much of a right to ascend the throne (you had king jaehaerys to uphold much of the blame for this decision). and now, the house was at war with one another. the dance of the dragons was surely to follow, leaving nothing but war across the realm and your poor broken heart.

the death of your brother lucerys did not seem to help with the feeling of heartbreak that effected life upon dragonstone. you spent many days and nights cooped up in your chambers. there was no one to turn too. yes, you sought comfort with your mother but she too was a shell of her former self. with jacaerys many miles north in winterfell, and your husband the murderer of such an innocent boy, you were left with nothing but your own reckless thoughts. as the sun rose in the east and set in the west day after day, your pain and suffering festered into a new, dark feeling within you. the sadness within was replaced with a craving of utter revenge. the lovesick girl, eyes wide with care and awe was shattered, replaced by a woman no, a dragon, who would go to any means to avenge the cruel death of her sweet younger brother. the love you had felt for the man you once were engaged to disappeared the moment you had learnt what he done; marring any chances at evading the war that was surely to follow. you swore to seek revenge with fire and blood. in whatever means the gods meant it to happen. 

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the small council met as the sun lays lazily high in the sky, providing the normally dark and gloomy room with a sliver of light that is often uncommon on the island of dragonstone home to dreary weather most of the time. you welcome the sun in all its glory, soaking it in as you stand next to your brother jacaerys as you listen to the squabbles between the men as they discuss the course of action to take next. small crescents dawned under your eyes, reflecting the many sleepless nights you have come to known. the tiredness you feel currently now and all throughout the days since luke's passing has become an old friend to you, one that is begrudging to leave. you tune out, the effects of another sleepless night and your lack of interest in the bickering that is beginning to fester amongst the lords and your mother is boring you. instead, your eyes are captured by the ball of fire that lay millions of miles away. you weren't all that religious, if it came down to it you preferred the valyrian or old gods in favour of the seven. but there was no doubt the glistening embers that rained upon the room was a good omen. you were sure lucerys was looking down upon you, he adored the few sunny days on dragonstone, and this brought a small smile to your face. 

you hadn't realised just how deep in thought you were until your brothers voice broke you out of whatever hazy trance you were. despite tuning out, you had gathered the basics of the discussion - ser criston cole had set his eyes on rooks rest, and a dragon was needed to defend the castle. jacaerys' proposition to fly vermax was quickly shut down by your mother, deeming the boy as too inexperienced in battle and the dragon too young. 

"i will go." 

the words escaped your lips before you even had a chance to think them through properly. the feeling of revenge running through your veins was more than enough to spark this confident outburst. it had to be you who would go to rooks rest. you did not understand why this feeling was so apparent, whether it be the good omen in the sky, or the smile that had graced your lips for the first time in many moons at the thought of your brother being the one who sent it. but the need to take seat upon your dragon silverwing and fly to rooks rest settled in your soul as a desire you needed to fulfil. you knew immediately your mother would never agree to this, already refusing jacaerys to go meant there was absolutely no possibility she would let you go. 

"no. you too lack the experience that is needed in battle. i will not lose another child to this war." rhaenyra's voice trembled slightly with the mentioning of lucerys but she held strong with her decision to not let either of her elder children fly to battle. the mentioning of luke only feeding the fire in your blood, the need to seek revenge for his passing. 

looking up at your mother, you knew she had understood this as it was plainly evident on your face. alas, rhaenyra could not deny you had your mother's stubbornness and your father's strength. "mother, the entire council knows it is far too dangerous to risk the lives of both you and jace. queen and heir. send me, your grace. silverwing is used to battle and if war and bloodshed is sure to follow with the greens still bot bending the knee to you, then we must become acquainted with it." 

her eyes softened as she gazed upon yours, you reminded her so much of herself in her youth. the fire that burned within you mirrored that of hers. the want to prove yourself as more as weak was apparent, when many men had deemed you fragile due to the gender you were born as, you felt the urge to prove them wrong, just as your mother had felt, still feels with the many lords at the council who still see her as the weaker sex. she knew you were going to fly to battle whether she permitted you leave or not. and with a slight of her head you knew her answer. her lilac eyes gazing into yours with such intensity you knew the message conveyed. be safe, sweet girl.

another voice a the council spoke up, one you weren't expecting to hear. your grandmother, rhaenys. "you must send me as well, your grace. meleys is no stranger to battle, like silverwing. two dragons will be better than one, if the greens decide to also send a dragon to battle."

you were shocked that your grandmother was to fight so willingly for your mother's claim to the throne but yet, the more you pondered the less surprised you were. she too was a woman who should have ascended the throne, the queen who never was, yet king jaehaerys passed over her claim as a count of being weak as she was a woman. gods you hated the man sometimes. 

you were no stranger to the care of your grandmother. she knew straight away that her son was not actually your father, you were born a bastard, fathered to ser harwin strong yet she loved you nevertheless. just as coryls velaryon had favoured young luke, rhaenys, favoured you. your dark her reminded her much of her mother jocelyn baratheon and the way in which you clung to her as a child reminded her so much of leanor. she had grown to love you as you her, and refused to see you alone on the battlefield. 

"come granddaughter, we have much to prepare." rhaenys spoke softly as your mother dismissed the council, guiding you with her hand on the small of your back. giving one last nod to your mother, you notice the look of such fierce love in her. the promise of suffering she would bring if you were hurt. yet, the only thing rhaeynra could do now is pray to the gods above that her only girl would return to her safely. and by the gods she did.

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silverwing was just as mesmerising as the day you claimed her at the tender age of  ten and three. her silvery scales often reminded you of the stars that hung from the sky. glistening intently as you often sat at your window deep in thought. such a docile creature, you could not help but fall in love with her kind nature; a dragon who was most friendly to strangers. as you approached her now a small smile once again graced your lips. the she dragon bent down to greet you, pressing her snout to your hand in a sign of understanding. the intelligence of the dragon was also something that had drawn you to her, she was able to sense every emotion you felt. she had known you were grieving and did not hold it against you that you had neglected to visit her. instead, she blew smoke from her nostrils, and you could have sworn she wore a toothy grin. silverwing was glad you had returned to her. 

flying your dragon had somewhat eased the dull ache that seemed to have made a permanent home in your heart. the ocean beneath you and the wind in your hair brought a sense of relief. this was home. you had miss flying your dragon across the realm, watching as the landscape beneath you changed from countryside, to villages, to oceans and to cities. it was freeing. as fast as she was, silverwing was no match for the speed in which meleys, your grandmother's dragon, flew. as she soared effortlessly through the sky, your dragon tried her hardest to keep up. 

"don't push yourself silverwing. meleys is a fast dragon. " you uttered calmingly to your dragon in high valyrian, stroking her scales softly in a show of comfort. oh how you missed speaking the language too. "calm my sweet girl, it will be okay."

as you finally caught up to rhaenys, the two dragons held pace with one another as you surveyed the fields below. ser criston cole's army had been spotted approaching rooks rest. the elder women held your eyes. a message passing through the two of you to get this done as quickly as possible. and with a cry, meleys delved to the army, silverwing not far behind her

a mix of anxiety and adrenaline coursed through your veins. you were petrified at failing the mission and returning to your mother's disappointed face with the castle in the hands of the greens. yet the pure adrenaline of gaining your revenge from those who supported the man who usurped your mother's throne and took your brother urged you to keep going "attack silverwing." you called out causing the dragon to plummet to the ground to attack those below.

the field that was once riddled with soldiers was now nothing but flame and smoke. red heat from the lips of your dragon had engulfed almost the entirety of the battlefield. the flames below you were nothing of the flickering of the candles in dragonstone that brought you comfort. no, the flames you caused mirrored the emotion inside, the intensity of the anger you felt, the betrayal from the man you once loved to cause this amount of pain. 

a sound you had not heard in a long time broke you out of your rage induced comatose. you froze, the greens had come for you. looking up, you recognised the gleaming golden dragon belonging to the usurper king aegon. sunfyre. your anger had only intensified at the man willing himself to fight against you and your grandmother. doubling around the castle, silverwing dipped her sharpened claws into the ocean's water, ensuring a clean cut against sunfyre before rising above the cliffs face, ready for battle. he was no match for that of silverwing and meleys.

despite the adrenaline within, you could not help but worry for your grandmother, as you watched the flames engulf both her and aegon as the dance begun. the women held a dear place in your heart and the image of her being hurt was enough to push you to attack the sun kissed dragon. flying to meet your grandmother, silverwing allowed herself to flip and glide between the flames aimed at you both. the bellows of aegon left a satisfying smirk upon your lips as meleys claws took hold within the belly of the enemy dragon, as you willed silverwing to attack the dragon's wings from above. clawing and scratching at sunfyre, silverwing and meleys both have seemed to have done immense damage to the golden beauty. chunks of the dragons wings had been ripped out and cuts adorned her body, red blood oozing out of her scales. the final blow had been dealt by your grandmother, yet war was far from over as a sickening roar had been heard beyond the trees.

aemond taragaryen had come out to play.

your breath hitched, letting you only to take only shallow breathes as vhagar descended from the trees. you tried to be brave, tried to hold back the tears that were evident in your glassy eyes yet you couldn't. tear drops sprung like rivers cascading down your terror-stricken face as you saw the shining silver hair of the man who had once been the love of your life, and subsequently the reasoning behind all your pain. wrapping the leather reigns that kept you in control of your dragon, you urged her to continue flying around rooks rest. the wind blew harshly as you circled the ashy landscape, drying your tears and making whatever was left stick to your reddened face. as vhagar descended upon the battle in the sky,  hought's swam through your head as you shouted at your dragon to attack, you wished away all feelings of dread. 

in that sliver of calm, you could not help but feel drawn to the sun as it had once again graced you with its appearance. and with lucerys velaryon looking down on you, you knew the gods wanted you to have your revenge in that moment. they had brought aemond to the battle for a reason after all.

flying up to sit side by side with rhaenys, you allowed the hatred in your heart to take over. the fire in your blood burned at the audacity for aemond to dare show his face after all that he had done. 

"it has to be me grandmother." you shouted over the howling winds in high valyrian. the distaste within had spoken clearly, it had to be you who destroyed the man in front of you. you knew rhaneys understood that, but you also knew she carried the same stubborn nature that all targaryen's had come to possess. plowing into vhagar first, it was obvious she was no match for the queen of dragons. sending waves of fire to the boy riding her, melyes took the moment of distraction to tear at the beast's stomach. 

unbeknownst to you, sunfyre had risen again at the sound of vhagar's approach. seeing the flame grown in the dragon's mouth, rhaneys abandoned the attack on the larger dragon, instead focusing on the dragon mere inches from you. ambushing her from the side, meleys' jaws clamp around the neck of the usurper's dragon. in a state of shock, you forced silverwing to the side, gratefulness gracing your features at your saviour. 

nonetheless, it was plain to see that both meleys and silverwing did not hold enough power to over through the two dragon's that had come to fight. with rhaenys preoccupied with the second coming of sunfyre and aegon, it had left you with the battled against  vhagar. having lived centuries you knew that you were no match for her. she had helped with aegon the conqueror's conquest and that alone had gained her much more experience in battle than your dragon would ever come to know.

reality kicked in like a knife to your stomach. understanding what you had to do sent shivers down your spine, but there was no other way.  to kill the dragon you must kill the rider. 

your mind flickered back to the many moments you had spent with aemond over the years. sneaking into one another's chambers at night to tell stories you have read in history books. the days spent in the garden giggling at the idiocy of your family. and as the two of you got older, you recounted the longing gazes in one another's directions, the stammering and blush that rose to your cheeks anytime he was near. the brushing of limbs at the feast as your grandsire had announced the betrothal. 

none of that mattered now. he had made his choice when he decided to slay his kin and you had made yours. 

gazing upon silverwing properly for the last time you spoke quietly "forgive me, comfort my mother when i am gone. i beg of you." the silver beauty squeaked in return, a note of sadness in her tone. she would miss you just as much as she missed queen alyssane, but she would honour your choice gallantly. "fly back to dragonstone when i am gone. i do not wish you to suffer the same fate, my love."

with your mind made up, you willed your dragon to fly to meet aemond and vhagar taking in a shaky breathe as you did. as silverwing glided through the air, her claw's tore through vhagar. nevertheless, the silver beauty had barely left any damage. vhagar's thick skin was almost impenetrable, only small surface wound were left behind from the attacks you inflicted on her. the only thing that kept you alive was your dragon's ability to stray so close to vhagar yet slip effortlessly beyond her reach whenever her jaws made an attempt to kill you both. 

allowing silverwing to deal with vhagar, meant that you were left to deal with her rider; your glassy eyes never leaving  the man who had caused you such suffering. he had grown you noted, his cheeks now hollowed out as if he has been struggling to eat, a dark crescent clear under his one good eye. the hate in your heart weakened, you had almost felt an ounce of sympathy at his obviously heartbroken state. you wondered if he had regretted his actions; had regretted pushing you away. you wondered if he blamed himself for what had happened that night, if he had really meant to kill luke on purpose. but you also knew you would wonder these things for the rest of your life if you let him live. no matter how much remorse he truly felt within you could never forget his actions, the way in which he took pride in what he did, bragging about being the first to spill blood in this horrific war. and that was enough for you to keep fighting.

pulling away from vhagar for a final time, you flew back around the castle unstrapping the saddle you had on silverwing, tossing it to the wind. unstrapping the sword, daemon had given you from your twentieth name day, you held it in your palm with such force that your knuckles began to whiten. as silverwing set her sights on vhagar once more, a final sound of pain came from your dragon as she knew what you had planned to do. knowing there was no way in changing your mind she flew above the dragon and its rider, positioning you perfectly in what you aimed to do. 

holding onto one of the many talons in her back, you allowed yourself to stand upon your dragon's back, the sword still tight in your hand. your eyes had never left that of the icy lilac that sat below you. the mix of fear and understanding stood in his, as he knew what you were about to do a second too late. the shock of realisation came as he tried to unfasten the straps that kept him tied to vhagar. she was too big of a dragon to move in time for what you were about to bestow upon the targaryen prince, and it was too high of a jump for him to survive.  

jumping from your dragon's back you let your mind to once again reflect all the love you had for aemond taragaryen. allowing yourself to find comfort in the fact that you had known love in your lifetime.

and as you drew the sword through him, you felt no remorse. a debt had been payed. revenge had been served. for luke.

but, there was no escaping the torment your heart inflicted upon you in the moment your sword pierced his only good eye. you had thought aemond would hold loathing at what you had done in his final moments, but all he felt was abhorrence for himself. driving you to the point of sorrow and grief where you had felt like you could do nothing more than seek revenge for what he had done. whispering a soft "i love you'' before you had pierced him, gave you the closure you had needed. those three words had answered all the questions that had played over and over in your mind, running rampant through your darkest hours.

the history books recalled that you had died peacefully with no call of a dragon to save you. you had plummeted to the ground with the man you had loved, knowing you had avenged your sweet innocent brother lucerys and had come to learn aemond had regretted his actions dearly. this was truly enough for you to die happily. and that you did.

[a-lexia11]

Full of love (Out of love part 2)

Leah Williamson x reader (past)

Alexia Putellas x reader

Word count:3,4k

Summary: Y/N joins Barcelona and moves on from Leah, starting fresh with her new teammate, Alexia.

Part 1

I stood in front of the mirror, staring at my reflection as I adjusted my training jacket. Arsenal’s crest was stitched proudly on the chest, a symbol of everything this club had meant to me.

But now, that symbol felt more like a weight pressing down on my heart, reminding me of the past I was trying so desperately to move on from.

Every day I saw her—Leah. The woman who once held my heart so effortlessly, and now… now she was just a constant reminder of everything I’d lost.

It wasn’t her fault. She fell out of love, and in the four months after our breakup, I did everything I could to avoid her. I avoided all communication and took steps to ensure I wouldn’t run into her, desperate to move on.

However, the process of healing felt impossible when every practice and every match forced me to face reminders of her and our past.

Seeing her every day only deepened my struggle and made it harder to move forward.

Arsenal used to feel like home. But after the breakup, the halls felt colder, the pitch less welcoming. I couldn’t breathe here anymore.

Not with her around every corner, every locker room laugh a reminder that things would never be the same.

That’s when Barcelona came calling. At first, I didn’t even entertain the idea. Leaving Arsenal? It felt unthinkable.

But as the days went on, the idea started to take root in my mind. Maybe a fresh start was what I needed—somewhere far from the memories of what was and what could never be again.

As we gathered in the meeting room, Jonas finally signaled for me to speak. I rose from my chair, feeling the weight of the moment press down on me.

Facing my soon-to-be former teammates, I took a deep breath to calm my nerves. “I want to let you all know that I’ve decided to leave Arsenal and join Barcelona,” I began, my voice wavering despite my attempt to stay composed.

The room fell silent, and I could feel the intensity of their gazes on me, adding to my already heavy heart.

As I spoke, I couldn’t help but glance at Leah. Her expression was one of pure shock, her eyes wide and unblinking.

My heart sank seeing her reaction. I knew this news would be hard for her, but seeing her so stunned made it even more difficult.

Beth, one of the first to speak, broke the silence. “Are you really sure about this, Y/N? Barcelona is a huge change,” she said, concern evident in her voice.

“Yes,” I replied, my throat tightening. “I’ve thought about it a lot. I need a new challenge, and moving to Barcelona feels like the right step for me right now.”

Beth nodded slowly, and I felt a mix of relief and sadness as she stepped forward to hug me. “We’re going to miss you so much, but I understand,” she said softly.

One by one, my teammates approached, offering their hugs and words of support. It was comforting to see their understanding, but my heart ached every time I glanced back at Leah.

She remained still, her face a painful mask of disbelief and hurt. I could sense the weight of her silence, and it was harder to bear than any of the farewells I was receiving.

The room was filled with quiet exchanges, but Leah’s reaction was like a heavy shadow over the whole moment.

After exchanging heartfelt hugs and brief conversations with everyone, the room gradually emptied until Leah and I were left alone. I took a deep breath and walked over to her. “Leah,” I said softly, my voice barely above a whisper.

She looked up, her eyes meeting mine, and rose from her seat, moving closer. “Y/N, you can’t just leave. Arsenal is your home, your family. We’re your family,” she said, her voice trembling.

“I know,” I murmured. “But you need to understand that I can’t heal here. Not with you here and the memories of us everywhere I turn. It feels like a huge part of me vanished when we broke up. Arsenal no longer feels like home; something has fundamentally changed. I’m not happy here anymore, and I need to address that. I can’t just stay and be miserable.”

Tears welled up in Leah’s eyes, and she quickly blinked them away, her expression a mix of sadness and confusion. “Are you leaving because of me? We can still be close, even if we’re not together. I can still make you happy as a friend. You don’t have to leave.”

I reached across the table and gently took her hand, squeezing it reassuringly. “Staying friends will only complicate things for me, Leah. I want you to know that I will always care about you, but this is something I have to do for myself. I need to find a way to move forward.”

Leah nodded slowly, her voice barely audible. “I understand. But that doesn’t make it any easier.”

“It won’t be easy for me either,” I admitted, feeling a lump in my throat. “But I genuinely believe it’s the right choice.”

We stood in silence for a while, the weight of our shared history hanging between us like a dense fog. The moments we had shared, both the good and the painful, seemed to fill the space around us. Finally, Leah broke the silence with a sigh. “When are you leaving?”

“End of the season,” I said quietly. “I want to make sure I finish things here properly, give it the closure it deserves.”

Leah nodded, her eyes reflecting a mixture of resignation and sadness. “Okay. I suppose… I’ll see you on the pitch.”

As she leave the room, I felt a poignant blend of relief and sorrow. Leaving Arsenal was going to be incredibly challenging, but it was a necessary step for me. Deep down, I knew it was the first step toward rediscovering who I was and finding a new path forward.

——

Arriving in Barcelona was like stepping into another world. The sun, the colors, the energy of the city—it was everything London wasn’t.

Where London had been gray and heavy, Barcelona was vibrant and alive. I could feel the warmth seeping into my bones, thawing the parts of me that had been frozen for so long.

Keira Walsh, my longtime friend and teammate, was a lifesaver. From the moment I arrived, she made sure I felt welcome, dragging me out to explore the city, introducing me to all the best spots for tapas, and always being there with a supportive word when the homesickness hit.

She also offered me a wealth of advice on how to prepare for my move, including tips on learning Spanish and some key Catalan phrases.

She shared detailed insights about the Barcelona players, explaining their personalities, who among them speaks and understands English, and any other relevant information that might help me adjust.

Her guidance was incredibly helpful in navigating both the language and the dynamics of my new team.

Being here felt like a long-awaited breath of fresh air, as if I’d finally found a place where I truly belonged. It wasn’t just the environment that comforted me; it was the way I started to see myself again.

Slowly, I rediscovered the ability to love myself, something I had lost along the way. I began to value who I was, embracing my flaws and strengths with a renewed sense of appreciation.

This place didn’t just offer me a new perspective; it helped me rebuild my self-worth, allowing me to recognize how much I truly deserved.

There was also Alexia Putellas. I had played against her before, but knowing her as a teammate was a different experience entirely.

She was captivating—on and off the pitch. Confident, graceful, yet surprisingly down-to-earth. I found myself drawn to her in a way that both excited and scared me.

One day after training, as we were packing up to leave, Keira caught up with me, a mischievous glint in her eye. “So, Y/N, how are you settling in so far?Are you enjoying Barcelona”

“I’m good,” I replied, slinging my bag over my shoulder. “The city’s amazing. And the team… well, you guys have been great.”

Keira grinned. “And how about Alexia? You’ve been spending a lot of time with her.”

I rolled my eyes. “Keira, don’t start.”

“I’m just saying,” she teased, nudging me playfully. “She seems to like you. And you could use some fun.”

I sighed. “It’s not that simple. After everything with Leah… I’m not sure I’m ready for something new.”

Keira’s expression softened. “I get that. But Alexia isn’t Leah. She’s different. And maybe… maybe this is exactly what you need.”

Before I could respond, Alexia appeared beside us, flashing me that disarming smile of hers. "Hola, Y/N. Keira. What are you talking about?"

Keira grinned and said, “Oh, nothing really. Y/N was just telling me that she’s interested in trying out the new tapas restaurant that recently opened near your place. You know that place right? You told us about it the other day?”

I looked at Keira with a puzzled expression. We definitely were not talking about that restaurant at all, and her comment seemed to come out of nowhere. What is she up to?

“Oh yes, I know that restaurant!” Alexia said with a bright smile, turning to look at me. “"Es realmente bueno” (It’s really good)

Then Keira said, “I have a great idea. Why don’t you two go to that restaurant for dinner tonight? I have other plans, but Y/N could use some company.” Her grin was almost too wide, and it dawned on me what she was really trying to do.

I should have seen this coming,Keira is playing Cupid and is trying to set me up with Alexia.

Alexia raised an eyebrow, glancing at me. "Dinner is good. Do you want to, Y/N?"

I hesitated, my thoughts racing. But when I looked into Alexia’s beautiful hazel eyes, something inside me shifted. Perhaps Keira was right—maybe this was just what I needed.

“Sure,”I said, smiling back at her. “Dinner sounds great.”

——

Dinner with Alexia was… easy. Comfortable. We talked about everything—our careers, our families, our favorite places in the city. She made me laugh in a way I hadn’t in a long time, and for the first time since my breakup with Leah, I felt a sense of peace.

As we walked back to my apartment that night, the city lights reflecting off the cobblestone streets, Alexia turned to me, her eyes serious. “Y/N, I really enjoy spending time with you” she said softly “Sé que has pasado por mucho, pero… me gustaría conocerte mejor. Si tú quieres, claro”she continued in Spanish. (I know you’ve been through a lot, but… I’d like to get to know you better. If you want to,of course)

I spent countless hours learning Spanish, and even though I don’t speak it frequently, I can understand it well.

It was easy to grasp what Alexia was saying; her beautiful Spanish accent and soft voice made her particularly clear, unlike some of the other girls on the team.

Fortunately, Alexia was always there to help with translations.

I looked at her, feeling the warmth of her words settle over me. “I’d like that too," I admitted. "But I need to take things slow. I’m still figuring myself out.”

Alexia nodded, her smile gentle. “Of course. We’ll take it at your pace. Sin presión” (No pressure)

——

From that night on, things between us progressed naturally. We spent more and more time together, both on and off the pitch.

She showed me parts of Barcelona I hadn’t yet discovered, and in return, I found myself opening up to her in ways I hadn’t expected.

One evening, after a particularly intense match, Alexia invited me over for dinner at her place.

As we sat on her balcony, the city stretching out below us, she turned to me, her eyes searching mine.

“Y/N, sé que todavía estás sanando, pero quiero que sepas... estoy aquí para ti. Para lo que necesites.” (Y/N, I know you’re still healing, but I want you to know… I’m here for you. Whatever you need.)

I looked at her, feeling a swell of emotion in my chest. “Thank you, Alexia. That means a lot.”

She smiled, reaching out to take my hand. “No rush. No expectations. Just us, taking it one day at a time.”

In that moment, I realized that I was ready. Ready to let someone in again, ready to embrace the possibilities that life in Barcelona had to offer.

And with Alexia by my side, I knew that I was on the path to something new—something good.

After my breakup with Leah, I recalled my mom telling me that someday someone would be gentle and soft with my heart.

I think that day has finally arrived.

——

Months passed, and Barcelona truly became my home. I was thriving, both on and off the pitch, and my relationship with Alexia had grown into something deep and beautiful.

But then, Keira mentioned that Leah was coming to visit. The news sent a ripple of unease through me, but I tried to push it aside. I was happy now. I had moved on.

I haven’t spoken to or seen Leah since the small farewell party the team held for my departure to Barcelona.

Throughout the evening, Leah and I deliberately avoided each other, not exchanging a single word. We only said our goodbyes at the end of the party.

She gave me a brief pat on the shoulder and wished me good luck in a tone that was both distant and polite.

Since then, we haven’t communicated at all, and it’s been several months.

Leah arrived in Barcelona on a Friday, and Keira suggested we all meet up after our match that weekend.

She didn’t mention Leah’s visit much beyond that, and I appreciated her subtlety. I was nervous enough already.

That night, we all gathered at a cozy bar near the beach, the soft hum of Spanish guitar music filling the air as we celebrated our victory.

The place was packed with teammates, everyone in high spirits. I felt a warmth in my chest as I looked around the room—this was my new family.

Alexia was by my side, her arm draped casually around my shoulders as we chatted with a few of our teammates at the bar.

The comfort of her presence, the way she made me feel secure and valued, was something I hadn’t experienced in a long time.

But then, I saw her. Leah, standing by the door, scanning the room until her eyes landed on me.

Leah made her way over to where we are, and I felt Alexia’s arm tightened around me,pulling me closer.

“You’ll be okay, mi amor?” she whispered softly in my ear, her breath warm against my skin. I nodded and reassured her, “Yes, don’t worry.” With a comforting smile, Alexia pressed a gentle kiss to my forehead.

Then, with a subtle but supportive nod, she stepped back and walked over to join the others, giving us a much-needed moment of privacy.

“Y/N,” Leah said, her voice a little shaky but warm. “It’s good to see you.”

“You too, Leah,” I replied, trying to keep my tone light. “How’s London?”

“It’s… London,” she said with a small smile, though her eyes were distant. “How about you? Barcelona seems to suit you.”

“It really does,” I admitted. “I love it here. The city, the team… everything.”

Leah glanced around, taking in the lively atmosphere. “I can see why. It’s beautiful.”

There was a brief silence between us, and I could feel the unspoken tension lingering in the air. This was Leah—the woman who had been my world, and now, she was just a memory I was trying to move past.

But seeing her here, in this new chapter of my life, felt weird.

“So… Alexia?” Leah asked, her voice hesitant. “You two seem close.”

I glanced over at Alexia, who was chatting with Keira but still keeping an eye on me. I nodded. “Yeah, she’s my girlfriend.”

Leah’s face tightened ever so slightly, though she quickly forced a smile. “That’s… that’s great. I’m happy for you, Y/N. Really.”

“Thanks,” I said softly. “She’s… different. It feels right.”

Leah looked down,playing with her fingers “I’m glad you found someone who makes you happy.”

I wanted to say something comforting, something that would ease the sadness I could see in her eyes, but I didn’t know what.

We weren’t those people anymore—the ones who could heal each other’s wounds with just a few words.

“Um… how about you? Have you found someone?” I asked, my voice filled with curiosity.

“Um… not yet,” she responded quietly, almost in a whisper. “I’m trying to put myself out there again, but it’s been challenging.”

I nodded understandingly, offering a gentle smile to encourage her. “I’m confident you’ll find someone, Leah. You’re an incredible person, and anyone would be lucky to have you in their life,” I said, hoping my words would boost her spirits and provide some comfort.

As the conversation began to wane, I felt a soothing touch on my back. Turning around, I saw Alexia standing there, her expression tender with a soft smile.

She looked at me with warmth before shifting her attention to Leah, greeting her with a gentle and kind smile. The moment felt comforting, a subtle but meaningful gesture in the midst of our conversation.

“Leah, it was really good to see you,” I said, meaning it. “I hope you enjoy the rest of your time here.”

“Yeah,” Leah replied, her smile a bit forced but sincere. “It was good to see you too, Y/N”

I gave her a small wave before turning back to Alexia, who wrapped her arm around my waist again, pulling me close.

As we rejoined the conversation with our teammates, I felt Leah’s eyes on us, but I didn’t look back. This was my life now, and I was finally ready to embrace it fully.

——

As the night wore on, I found myself sitting on the balcony of Alexia’s apartment, the cool breeze carrying the scent of the sea.

Alexia joined me, handing me a glass of wine as she sat beside me, her presence grounding me in the moment.

“Estas bien” (You okay?) she asked softly, her eyes searching mine.

I nodded, taking a sip of the wine before speaking. “Yeah, I am. It was just… strange, seeing Leah again. It brought back a lot of memories.”

Alexia nodded, her hand resting gently on my knee. “Eso es comprensible. You two were together for a long time.” (That’s understandable)

“Yeah,” I said, staring out at the city lights twinkling in the distance. “But seeing her tonight made me realize something. I’m not that person anymore. I’ve changed, and so has she. And that’s okay. We both deserve to be happy, even if it’s not with each other.”

Alexia smiled, her eyes soft and full of understanding. “You’re right. And from what I’ve seen, you’re doing an amazing job of finding your happiness here.”

I turned to her, feeling a rush of affection. “That’s because of you, you know. You’ve made me feel… whole again.”

She leaned in, brushing her lips against mine in a tender kiss. “Y tú has hecho lo mismo por mí, bebé” (And you’ve done the same for me, baby.)

As we sat there together, wrapped in each other’s warmth, I realized that I had finally found what I had been searching for.

A new beginning, a new love, and a new sense of self. Barcelona had become my home, and with Alexia by my side, I knew that the future was bright.

And for the first time in a long time, I felt at peace.

Leah’s POV

FIN

[tojismain]

clenched jaws and promises

someone tells you that you're not toji's type, were they right or are you just scared?

“You’re Toji’s girl, right?” This girl had been staring at you for the entirety of the party, waiting for her moment to pounce and you just left Toji to get some hors d’oeuvres at the end of the hallroom while he greeted someone. 

“Uh yeah.” You replied, smiling slightly. 

She hums with an amused smile. “You’re different from what I expected.” 

You could’ve imagined the whole thing, but you could swear that the sentence carried a venomous tone. 

“Oh? What did you expect?” You asked, hoping you misread her intention. 

“I mean...” She gestures over your frame with her black-painted acrylics. “Just- you know, you’re not really his type. Not what I expected to see.” Definitely venomous.

“And what exactly is his type?” Your smile was completely gone as you stared at her. 

“Different, that’s all. Guess he switched up, didn’t he?” Her smile grows at the sight of your discomfort and you were certain your eye was twitching. 

“I guess so.” You grasped the glass in your hand tighter. 

She steps closer and leans her head forwards as she whispers, “He’s going to get bored, you know? He needs someone exciting. I doubt you and your life can keep it enticing for him. No offense, you just seem like the fragile-type. I mean you probably didn’t even want to come to this, did you?” 

"Yeah." She laughs as she backs up before continuing, her voice back to normal, “But what do I know? Maybe he’s into that.” And you doubt she knew what Toji needed. 

Your jaw was clenched and your words come out shaky, “Thanks for letting me know.” 

She brushes her hand over your shoulder, “No worries! Just giving you a heads up. It’s pathetic to see someone cling on to something that’s clearly not meant to be.”

In that moment, you wished you were more confrontational and could slap her, but you walk away before causing a scene. 

You end up in the fancy bathrooms looking at yourself in the mirror. Was she right? You knew Toji went for different types of girls before you, but that means nothing right? But, all you could see was a reflection of things you weren’t for him.

You spent some time in there fixing your makeup and trying not to let her words affect you. It wasn’t effective but you were really good at lying to yourself, so for tonight, it’ll have to do.

You step out of the restroom and see Toji leaning against the wall, his arms crossed. He looked unbothered and straight-faced, until he turned to look at you.

He looks at you for a second before reaching out and grabbing your wrists, pulling you to him and trapping you between his body and the wall. 

A gasp leaves your mouth at the sudden movement, “Is something wrong?” You breathed out. 

He leaned down to bury his face in the crook of your neck, he hums, “Took you a while in there.” He says in a grumble. 

“I just- I needed to freshen up.” Your face burned red as one of his hands gripped your waist, keeping you against him.

“For that long?” He asked as he nipped the skin on your shoulder, starting to leave small marks.

You whine at his actions. “Toji-”

His nips turn to peppered kisses. A grin makes its way on his face at your whining. 

“What’s wrong, baby?” 

His question was meant to be teasing, but it reminded you of your previous conversation with the girl and you moved away from him slightly.

“Nothing.” You managed to mutter out. 

He lifted his head and looked down at you. His eyebrows furrow, “Are you okay, sweetheart?”

You nod your head and smile slightly, “Yeah I'm okay.”

He noticed that something was bothering you so he grabbed your chin with his hand and let his eyes roam over your face. 

“When are we going home?” You asked before he could make any comments or ask any questions. 

You avoided his eyes and tried to move your face away from him, but he splays his hand at your jaw. He brushes his thumb back and forth and he notices your discomfort—not from him, but clearly from something. 

“Soon. We’ll leave soon, baby.” He trails his hand down to your own and interlaces your fingers. 

The both of you walk away from the hallway and make your way back to the mainroom. The minutes go by with Toji talking to numerous people, his words were now quick, wanting to leave more than anything.  

Eventually he turns to look at you, “Let’s go now, yeah?” He asks, his gaze harshening as he fixes on someone else behind you.

part 2

aurelia

[spookyrea]

You Can Wrap Me 'Round Your Finger...

You’re having a crisis trying to pick the perfect moment to tell Loki you love him. Loki is having a crisis, too, except his is decidedly way more embarrassing. Also, your pillows keep disappearing.

(aka - frost giant biology is weird and Loki has to suffer the consequences.)

a companion to Love at First Sight (or should I walk by again?) - can be read on its own!

Chapter 1 / 2 -- read it on AO3 here

Word count: ~5k

Warnings: fem reader; Loki is CLINGY

You could just make out the rosy hue of a late-season snowfall from your vantage point behind the cockpit; it blanketed the city, turning the streets a pale orange where streetlamp light reflected off of a crisp, white coat. For a city that never slept it was strangely quiet; at just past three o’clock in the morning, not even the snow plows were out yet.

Your team was returning from a four day long deployment to San Francisco – a retrieval mission where you were tasked with tracking down and seizing off-world cargo. It had gone over surprisingly well - zero casualties, a handful of actual combat incidents, and a scant few million dollars worth of petty property damage. It did require a proper cargo plane, though, which meant that the team had to rely on a local airplane hangar to get back home. 

(Despite his truly unparalleled complaining, Tony’s choice to put the Avengers tower in the centre of a busy New York metropolitan block meant that there were certain restrictions - namely, the laws of physics - that limited the size of plane they could have on-site).

An unfortunate consequence of it all was that you were freezing. You made a face and folded your arms over your chest; you were dressed for a late February chill, in tac-pants and a knit sweater, not a snowstorm. As romantic as the snow looked, the cold was settling over you like an ache and, coupled with the early-hour and a tender bruise on your left side, your mood was only souring. You cast your eyes to the ceiling and prayed that a car was already waiting for you on the tarmac.

The quin-jet touched down a little roughly; you felt Wanda’s wince without looking at her, but Tony immediately came to her defense. “No, that was because of the snow. Poor visibility. Out of your control. Definitely. I’m passing you with flying colours - hey, get it?”

The loading ramp slid open with a pop and a hiss; your ears felt funny now that you were on solid ground, like they were full of cotton. Natasha tugged on her earlobes, then reached over and tugged on Steve’s too to be a pest. He swatted her away with a scowl. 

Moments later, attendants began to climb the loading ramp in groups of two. You scowled. They were at least dressed for the weather.

You pulled your hands from between your thighs, trying to focus on anything other than the way your core muscles were tensed against the chill, and thanked whatever powers-that-be that you could finally go home. You were half way through unbuckling your seatbelt when an automated voice warned you from overhead not to leave your seats.

“Sorry, everyone,” Tony called. “Safety or whatever. All cargo has to be removed before we can get up. Just a few minutes. You’ll be warm and in bed in no time.”

You sank low in your seat, arms crossed, and focused very hard on glaring a hole in the quid-jet floor. Who knows -- maybe you could spontaneously develop heat-vision. It would look good on your resume.

“I was beginning to think I’d have to go collect you myself.”

Crossing the jet in long strides, tall enough to peer over most attendants' heads, was Loki. Your boyfriend.  

Dressed in civilian clothing, Loki was something resplendent. His pale skin, warmed by the cool twilight haze outside, was a stark relief against his mop of riotous dark curls, and his green eyes caught the light in a mysterious way. A pair of neatly-polished shoes rattled the grated floor as he approached, weaving in between attendants, until he came to a stop at your side. With a wave of his hand, Loki manifested a fine wool cloak to drape over your shoulders. His long fingers drew the golden hook at the collar through its eye and smoothed it flat against your sternum.

“Can’t have you freezing to death,” he murmured.

You thumbed the stitching along the hem of the cloak; the thread was such a dark green that it almost blended in with the black fabric. “I would have been fine.”

“Well, if you’re too warm, I can certainly help cool you down.” Loki slid into the seat next to you and blew an icy breath across your neck, making you shriek. The grin he shot you was lecherous - truly vile , you mumbled - and sent a hot thrill from your nape to the pit of your belly.

“You are evil.”

“You should have me locked up.”

You pulled the collar of his cloak up to your face, pressing the velvety edge to your mouth. “I’m putting in a request immediately.”

Loki offered you his wrists, that sticky grin growing even wider. “Why wait?”

A flash of green seidr crackled suggestively, implying where a set of handcuffs might bind him. Your eyes snapped to the whirlwind of snow outside, cheeks hot. 

Tony gagged obnoxiously from the pilot’s seat. The comms system crackled to life overhead. “Get a room, you two.”

Loki scoffed, mock affront dripping from his lazy posture, and poured himself over your shoulders, even though the armrest was in the way and was without a doubt digging into his side. He plucked your hand from your lap, lacing his fingers through yours and drawing it up to his mouth. His lips idly traced the edge of his signet ring on your thumb while you watched the cargo roll by, box by painstaking box. 

You had only been dating for a few months, having finally confessed your mutual attraction after a tumultuous, alcohol-fueled evening together. It turned out that the entire time that you had been harbouring a monumental crush on Loki, he’d been just as gone on you - a fact you hadn’t known, since his idea of showing interest was to give you shiny rocks and hand feed you foods, and yours was whatever Tinder had going on.

Once the two of you had gotten over your - admittedly pretty embarrassing - communication barrier, you fell into a nice routine. You found that you were more confident without the weight of an unrequited crush looming over you, and Loki was eons more likely to finish his paperwork as long as you were there to play footsie with him under the table and let him ramble every fifteen minutes. He still flirted with everything that moved, but you recognized the nuances of his affection now. He never touched anyone, but he hung off of you like a limpet; he might smile and schmooze at parties, all lecherous grins and innuendo, but his eyes always sought your approval out after every punchline; and he only ever called you pet.

(And on one occasion, master. But that was a different story.)

Once the attendants had unloaded the last crate into a van, Tony gave everyone the OK to exit the plane without worrying about being trampled. Steve was the first out, blinking sleep out of his eyes. Natasha, Bruce and Tony were quick to follow, all stumbling into the first car they saw, while Wanda stayed and fiddled with a few switches from the co-pilot’s seat. Under Natasha’s suggestion, she was trying to get a proper license to fly - mostly for paperwork-related reasons, because the insurance company charged a fortune every time an Avenger ‘borrowed’ a vehicle without permission.

Before you could protest, Loki scooped up the duffle bag at your feet and started down the loading ramp into the storm, leaving you and Wanda as the last on the plane. You rapped your knuckles against the ceiling and sent her a questioning look. Decked out in her oversized headset and a fuzzy quarter-zip sweater Tony had commissioned for the team, she looked right at home behind the quinjet control panel. She shot you a thumbs up, gesturing for you to go on ahead. You blew her a quick kiss and then hurried after Loki, fighting to keep the cloak shut against the blustering wind. 

Wet snow crept under your pant legs, clinging unpleasantly to the strip of skin left exposed by your socks. Loki had already packed your belongings away in the farthest van and was waiting by the back door, held open for you. You jogged - as best you could given the weather - the last couple of feet and slid into the backseat.

Loki hauled himself through the other door a moment later. The driver - a bored looking man with a dark beard and greying temples - pushed the stick shift into gear and turned off the runway. 

You shivered, brushing clumps of snow off your ankles. Dark stains were climbing up your shins where the it bled through. Loki leaned across the seat to help you, running a shimmering hand over your shoulders to dry you off. 

Mostly satisfied, you sank back and watched the city roll by, the empty streets cast in shades of neon as the snow reflected billboards and store displays. It was a beautiful sight, the kind of morning you would normally want to commit to memory for the postcard-ness of it all – except you were exhausted and a little cranky, so you turned your eyes to stare at your boyfriend instead. 

(You made it a full three minutes without looking at him - a new personal record.)

You admired him the way an owner might creep up on a beloved pet in a sunbeam; you didn’t want him to know you were looking, in case he spooked and moved, so you kept your cheek turned and watched from the corner of your eye. He was deep in thought, luckily, which gave you some leeway to admire his profile. There was something decidedly boyish about him when he was relaxed, a softness you so rarely got to see; it made you want to kiss every inch of him just for the sake of kissing.

He drew an aimless pattern with his thumb across your upper thigh. His pinky finger was stretched comically far from the rest of his fingers, as if willing your hand to reach out and intertwine but too stubborn to ask. For a silly, love-sick moment you were overwhelmed by the need to tell him you loved him - and then your brain caught up with your heart and bludgeoned it into submission.

The knowledge that you were in love with him and the nebulous un-knowledge of how he felt about you was starting to wear on your nerves. You understood logically that he liked you - enough to court you, under different circumstances - but what you felt when you looked at him was a hurricane of emotions, a self-sustaining cycle of hot air up and cold air down, whipping the sea so hard that it formed storm clouds unbidden by the laws of nature. You knew that he felt things differently, had lived a dozen of your lifetimes no doubt filled with pretty things. Would this change your relationship? Would you breaking that last barrier make yourself less desirable somehow?

You wanted to tell him. To share the inherent joy of being in love.

It just scared you to death, was all. No big deal.

His mouth twitched; his eyes caught yours in the window’s reflection as the car entered the dark parking garage. “What’s going on in that head of yours?”

“Nothing,” you squeaked. “Just tired. Sorry.”

The car dropped you off in the underground parking of the Avengers’ tower. Yours was the last of the convoy, so you and Loki slipped out of the car into an empty lot where only a few strangler attendants were unloading and taking inventory. You held one corner of the cloak in your hand, worried it would drag through the slush puddles tracked in by the cars. Loki’s hand came to rest on the small of your back while he hoisted your bag over his shoulder.

“After you, pet.”

You led him to the elevators, where you leaned against the railing and let your eyes slip shut. Loki selected a floor and then joined you, draping one arm around your shoulders to draw you into his chest.

You leaned your cheek against him. Now that you were home, the full weight of your exhaustion was bearing down on you. The pattern of knots Loki was drawing across the back of your neck wasn’t helping. You were suddenly grateful for the support of Loki’s body under you, solid and steady; you slid your hands under his jacket to hug him… then paused.

Something was… off.

You pulled back and gave him a once-over. Nothing outwardly betrayed him as different. He wore a pair of simple, straight-leg tac-pants and a white t-shirt under a brown vintage-style bomber he’d no doubt swiped from Bucky or Steve; the cut of each item flattered his narrow build exceedingly, a fact you knew he was aware of by the way he kept glancing at you during your drive home. His hair was wild and unstyled in a hopelessly endearing way - a look he’d taken to wearing often after you made a passing comment about liking it that way.

The jacket though… 

He filled it out well. Too well.

“You’re bigger,” you blurted out.

Loki raised one eyebrow in a perfect, mocking arch. “Excuse me?”

“You’re,” you waved your hand up and down his body, “bigger. Like, broader. Have you been working out more?”

Loki glanced down at his chest. “No?”

You pushed the jacket off his shoulders to get a better look at him. The white cotton of his t-shirt puckered across his chest, wrinkling under the strain of an extra inch or so of muscle, and the side seams were pulled so taut that you could see the thread. You poked him right over his heart, admiring a new, plush firmness.

The tips of Loki’s fingers wormed under your shirt. His smile took on a wicked edge as he soaked in the sight of you in front of him. When you shot him a look, he screwed his face up into something resembling innocence. “If you’re going to ogle me like a piece of meat, I think it’s only fair that I get to admire you, too.”

You hummed and slipped his jacket back into place, smoothing your palms down his chest to rest just above his waistband. Loki’s evilness washed away to something sticky sweet; he slid his hand up between your shoulder blades, his fingers splayed wide to admire the shift of your muscles under your skin. His other hand twined with yours to lift your knuckles to his mouth.

The doors slid open on his floor. With a flourish and a fleeting kiss, Loki stooped to collect your bag. His free hand trailed behind him, outstretched for you to take, but you lingered with a smile and a shake of your head.

He came to an abrupt stop under the threshold, his eyebrows drawn together in confusion. He wiggled his fingers, as if you were refusing because you’d missed his offer to hold your hand. “What are you doing?”

You pressed the button for your floor. “I’m going back to my room.”

“No,” Loki whined, his hand still outstretched. “Please, darling.”

You rolled your eyes and attempted to pull your bag from his hands. “I’ll see you in a few hours, Loki.”

“But you’ll miss out on my new, broader body. Your bed will seem extra empty now in comparison. You should just skip the trouble.”

“Loki, I’m tired. And all my stuff is in my apartment.”

“You can wear something of mine.” Loki, exasperated, threw your duffle down in front of the elevator door and cornered you against the railing.

“Just for the night, Loki.” You pressed a chaste kiss to his mouth, one he didn’t return… and then seemed to regret, because only a heartbeat after you pulled away he was on you, cupping your face between both his hands and swiping his tongue across your bottom lip. You huffed out a sigh and pushed on his stomach; he managed to get two more kisses in before you finally won and put some distance between the two of you.

In a perfectly Loki-fashion, Loki sulked. He stomped out of the elevator and then turned to you, his hands firmly on his hips. “You vex me. Understand that I will be taking you out for breakfast tomorrow, no exceptions.”

You hooked a finger through your bag strap, dragging it back into the elevator. “Make it a late lunch. If you wake me before noon there will be punishments.”

Loki’s eyes twitched with the briefest hint of a smirk. His voice dropped an octave. “Promise?”

The elevator doors slid shut on his leering expression. You spent the rest of the ride valiantly trying not to fall asleep. The low hum of its engine was terribly soothing.

When the elevator opened to your floor, you weren’t surprised to find PAL - Tony’s Paperwork Assistant Lite robot, who usually helped organize and retrieve files in the office downstairs - waiting by your door. Measuring just under two feet tall, PAL could navigate the halls and elevator just fine as long as FRIDAY was willing to unlock the doors for him, but your manual lock-and-key front door was an insurmountable obstacle for him.

“How long have you been here, buddy?”

As soon as he recognized you, PAL trilled with delight. His metal chassis vibrated with the effort of waiting by the door. He rounded your feet while you dug through your pants pockets for your keys, narrating the week to you in his language of whistles and beeps, and raised his tiny paper tray, straining to try and take over the weight of your duffle bag. You huffed out a laugh, leaning ever-so-slightly to the side to set it on him but not to smother; the LED display on his face narrowed, as if he was concentrating very hard on not dropping your belongings.

As soon as you were through the door, you threw your bag by your shoe rack and toed off your sneakers, leaving them in a pile on the floor. PAL set to straightening them, sweeping them to the wall with his tray ahead like a snowplow. He tried to do the same to your bag, but his treads could only pinwheel against the weight. 

You stood in the living room for a moment and folded Loki’s cloak over the back of your couch, contemplating skipping your whole routine and going straight to bed. You settled on missing a shower but washing your face - everything else could be dealt with in the morning. You made your way to your bedroom in search of clean pyjamas, then continued to the bathroom to brush your teeth, PAL close on your heels.

You had just exited the bathroom when someone knocked on your door. You tossed your washcloth into a bin on top of your washing machine and rounded the hallway to answer it.

Loki stood on the other side, dressed in a pair of black sweatpants and an oversized AVENGERS TACTICAL UNIT t-shirt. “Please, darling.”

“You have your own bed.”

“It’s too big without you.”

“You’re even bigger now. You’ll fill it out just fine.”

Loki stepped into your personal space; he hadn’t even bothered putting on shoes, wearing only a pair of grey wool socks. His hands curled around your hips as if to steady himself. “I’m afraid of the dark?”

“Try again.”

“My room was taken over by starving wolves while you were away and I only narrowly escaped.”

You sighed. You had to admit that it felt nice to have him in your arms like this, even if you knew giving in would only encourage him to lord over more of your time. “Absolutely no funny business, Loki.”

An incandescent grin split his face in two. He swooped in to kiss your cheek, then sauntered off toward your bedroom. You locked the door, made sure PAL was settled into his charging dock for the night, and then followed after your boyfriend.

You found him curled up on the side of your bed closest to the door, facing you, and holding one of your pillows hostage. He buried his nose in the fabric, a pleased sound rumbling through his chest, and watched you approach.

You swatted at him, not even bothering to round the bed, opting to crawl over his body to reach your side. Loki unfolded, abandoning the pillow to gather you up instead; his arms circled your waist and tugged you into his chest in an awkward collision of limbs, legs tangling in the comforter. You squirmed while he maneuvered you to his liking, tucking the length of his body around you tightly and nosing at the junction of your throat and jaw.

“Loki,” you chided. “I said no funny business.”

“This is a perfectly serious matter.” Loki untangled himself from you just long enough to pull the comforter over your body before sliding in beside you. One hand returned to your neck, tipping your chin back so he could press a loud kiss to your pulse point. “You don’t have enough blankets.

You stifled a yawn and pushed him to lie on his back, draping one leg over his. “Why’s that?”

Loki continued to rearrange the sheets with a scowl. “You’ll freeze to death under this thing.”

Already, your eyelids were heavy with exhaustion. You hummed. “I feel like I had more pillows than this. Maybe I’ve finally lost it.”

A small voice in the back of your mind whispered that you loved him, you loved him, you loved- 

You settled with tracing a heart over his collarbone, over and over until you fell asleep.

You woke to the sound of FRIDAY’s voice through the PA system. “Mr. Laufeyson, your presence is being requested on the thirty-first floor. Mission briefing in fifteen minutes.”

You peeled your eyes open. You could tell by the slant of the sun through the curtains that it was past noon - a small victory, really. Behind you, Loki burrowed deeper into the fabric of your t-shirt, nosing along the ladder of your spine while groaning his displeasure. He drew the comforter around you tightly, trapping you under one muscular arm with a vengeance.

His voice, still deep and rasping with the last threads of sleep, rumbled through his chest. “Good morning, dear heart.”

Lovesickness bloomed like a bruise in your chest. “Morning,” you said, instead of I love you. 

You half-turned and pecked the side of his mouth before sitting up. Loki made an affronted sound and reeled you back in by a fistful of your t-shirt, sending you sprawling halfway across his chest. He kissed you soundly, licking into your mouth with a low groan.

You blinked up at him once he pulled back. “Um. Good morning?”

“I was a perfect gentleman all night and you reward me with a peck. ” A scowl twisted his pretty face, petulance dripping off him in droves. His hands slid over your ass possessively, kneading the soft flesh with purpose. “I should have you flogged for that. Put over my knee.”

“Patience is a virtue,” you mumbled.

“Wrong faith, pet. Now- wait, where are you going?”

You paused, halfway through peeling yourself out of his arms (again), and pointed at the ceiling where FRIDAY’s voice reminded him that he was needed in thirteen minutes, Mr. Laufeyson . ”You have a debrief and I have a date with my coffee pot.”

“Not after you so callously rejected me. Come down here and make it up to me.”

You rolled your eyes and leaned in to kiss him again, slowly but deeply. Loki chased your mouth when you pulled away, frustration evident in the heavy way he sighed. Lifting you by the hips, Loki deposited you in his lap and held you there, digging his thumbs into the plush of your sides. Using the resulting sigh to his advantage, Loki cradled the back of your head and bullied your lips apart, pulling a sticky kind of want from your chest, leaving you dizzy and aching all at once.

When FRIDAY gave him a five minute warning, blinking the emergency strobe in the corner of your bedroom for good measure, Loki finally drew himself away and let you catch your breath. His head tipped back against the pillow, his throat on display in a long submissive line, and his shiny mouth parted in a groan. He mumbled something in his mother tongue, your name nestled right between lilting consonants.

“What was that?”

“Nothing important.” 

“One day you’ll teach me what you’re saying,” you grumbled. “And then I’ll know all your secrets.”

Loki lazily arched one brow, smothered behind a curtain of riotous curls. “Is that so? All of them?”

“Mhm. All of it. Every last one.”

You traced a finger down the line of his nose. If ever there was a moment to tell him you loved him, now was probably it. Here, on the laziest of saccharine mornings, while the city outside was muted by a thick wall of snow and you were both ignoring responsibility to enjoy the other. And yet– doubt wove its way through your ribs, tying knots in the hollow spaces in your chest; you rolled off of him and sat up, pulling the hem of your shirt down where it had ridden up. “FRIDAY is going to bring the appliances to life if you don’t leave soon.”

Loki poised himself on the edge of your bed and snagged your wrist when you rounded it. There was nothing to the gesture – no comment, no complaint to make. He held onto you for the simple joy of owning a second of your time.

As if one cue, PAL rolled through your bedroom door, his little paper tray aloft. He chirped in greeting, then ran head-long into one of the bed frame’s legs. 

You tamped down a lingering disappointment. Later. You would tell him later.

“Pest.” Loki swatted at PAL, who had taken to repeatedly bumping into Loki’s shins to convince him to get dressed. You gasped scoldingly when Loki shot a warning green spark in the robot’s direction; PAL, undeterred, narrowed the LED display on his face and wound up, knocking the god extra hard for good measure.

“PAL, go sit in the living room. You can pick something on Netflix for us to watch. And you,” you pointed a finger at Loki. “No threatening the robot.”

You left him to dig through your closet for something to wear; the far corner was steadily developing a growth of black, Loki-sized clothing. While you busied yourself with the coffee machine, PAL chirped at the TV and then parked himself in front of your window with his face pressed against the glass. Once your coffee was poured, you left out the gaudiest mug you owned – chipped, declaring you were Thor’s Number One Fan!, which Loki hated with a burning passion – and a spoon for when he joined you.

PAL beeped distractedly when you joined him by the window; there was a tender tilt to his little head as he gazed out, studying a pair of birds who had built their nest just below. His body shuddered, as if sighing, and his LED display blinked one long, slow blink.

It started as a tiny bundle of twigs a few weeks ago, trembling in the wind but shielded from the elements in the nook between a metal support beam and the windowsill. Then a few pieces of long grass were woven in, and a handful of fresh green branches, still flexible in their newness. They must have finished their home while you were away; two mates were deep under the spell of a snowy Sunday morning, bundled up under a layer of down and straw.

A solid pair of arms wound around your waist, drawing you backwards into an equally solid chest. Loki’s hair was damp where he’d run wet fingers through it, no doubt trying to contain the curling mess of bed head he woke up with every morning. It clung to your cheek a bit, the crown of his head pressed up to your face while he nosed at your shoulder. “Oh, hi– hello.” 

“I don’t want to go,” Loki whined. He rocked you gently from side to side, resting his cheek against yours. “We should feign illness. It’s dreadfully contagious. And then we can—” a kiss, just under your ear, “stay in bed all day. To recuperate, of course.”

“As lovely as that sounds, you really do have to go. You know how Steve gets when you’re late.”

“As soon as I can I’m coming right back up here to ravish you. That’s a promise.”

PAL cooed, excited by some small movement from the birds. One of them had woken to preen the other, sweetly running its beak through its feathers.

“Look at their little nest. How cozy,” you said quietly. “Maybe that’s where my pillows went.”

The longer Loki considered the birds, the deeper the furrow between his brows grew. He seemed to be having a revelation of some kind. “I… have to speak with my brother about something.”

“Something wrong?”

“No. Just a thought. Don’t worry.”

PAL rolled backwards into Loki’s shins with purpose. He chirped sternly, as if chiding Loki in his machine-speak, who, in return, toed PAL’s chassis very gently in warning. 

You laughed. “He’s coming, buddy.”

“Actually,” Loki muttered darkly. “On the contrary. My problem is that I’m not-”. You suspected the next words out of his mouth would have been incredibly inappropriate, had PAL not rolled pointedly over Loki’s foot.

You exited the elevator on the 31st floor a few hours later. A far cry from Tony’s party, the room was empty and mostly tucked away; chairs were stacked on tables and the bar was cleared of bottles; bright, unfiltered sunlight poured through the enormous lofted windows, allowing you an unobstructed view of the skyline and the meandering streets below. A couple of interns were having lunch on one of the couches in the corner. They must have been part of the newest wave of college recruits, because their eyes lingered in a starstruck kind of way that made you feel a little embarrassed. 

You shot them a playful salute. Both startled, turning away in a rush.

Oh well. You couldn’t look Steve in the eyes for your first week on the team– you got it.

You found Loki in the farthest conference room, sat at the end of a long, round table between Steve and Bucky. You watched their fingers walk across its surface, handing a piece of folded paper between the three of them. Steve wrote something while the speaker was turned, then slipped his hand surreptitiously under the desk. Bucky coughed; from your vantage point, you saw his and Loki’s fingers unravel the note so they could read it discreetly.

Some executive droned at the other end, gesturing to a dreadfully laid out powerpoint. Matching manilla folders were spread open in front of the agents; you had a sneaking suspicion that whatever the speaker was saying was also written down and could have been read in half the time this meeting took.

You tried to catch Loki’s eye through the window but his attention was aimless, lost in some faraway place. A thought came to you; you rearranged your belongings to clasp your hands in front of you. Squeezing your eyes shut, you prayed - albeit poorly - to the god sitting a few dozen feet from you.

You peeked through one eye to see if it had worked; through the glass, Loki shot you a private smile, so sweet that it was practically a kiss. You waved him over, jerking your head toward the conference room door.

You watched him interrupt the speaker, his lazy posture rolling forward until he was sitting straight. Steve and Bucky nodded sagely, immediately following whatever story Loki had spun. Bucky pointed exaggeratedly to his metal arm, rubbing it as if it was tense.

The door opened and Loki slipped out into the hallway to meet you. Your grin bordered on becoming painful. Both your hands were folded behind your back. “You didn’t have breakfast this morning.”

“Observant.” He plucked a loose thread from the collar of your shirt and flicked it aside before leaning in for a quick kiss. You decided, even if you couldn’t say you love him, to treat him no less lovingly; you chased him when he pulled away, pressing your lips to his jaw. His grin was dazed, like you’d turned him dumb with the simple act of wanting him. “You’re even lovelier than the last time I saw you.

“I brought you something. Pick a hand.”

Loki walked his fingers down your left arm and pulled; you let him have it, your palm open – and empty. “Oh, that’s too bad.”

“Hmm. Terrible luck.” His knuckles dragged down the length of your other arm. In that hand was a take-out container from your favourite coffee shop, defaced with a smiley-face and cute message from the barista, Yvonne. It was his usual order, nothing special, but when his eyes tipped up to meet yours, there was something uncharacteristically open about his expression, a shy edge to the tilt of his smile. He leaned in and kissed you, soft and sweet like honey. “Do you think they’ll notice if I’m gone much longer?”

“Absolutely.”

Loki groaned, tipping your hips until they were flush to his. He kissed you hard enough to bend you backwards.

“I’ll come by your apartment tonight and we can get dinner?”

His fingers stilled where they were kneading your sides. “Yes, about that. Let’s… Let’s stay at yours tonight. The wolves that chased me out last night haven’t been evicted yet.”

Loki's answer confused you – he’d spent the entire night complaining that you wouldn’t go back to his room, then insulting your blanket choices, and now he wanted to stay at yours? “Ok. That works. Is everything okay?”

“Fine,” he said quickly. “Perfectly fine. You’re so tired though. Easier to stay where your belongings are. I won’t– won’t make you commute.”

You eyed him suspiciously. “Behave today.”

Another groan, this one pitched low; Loki traced your cheek with his nose. “I love it when you order me around.”

“Loki! Be-have.”

“Just one more, nymph. To tide me over.”

You sent him off with three more kisses. You were starting to wonder if you were too lenient with him; he delighted in taking advantage of your weakness to weasel more affection out of you. He returned to the conference room with his little box, opened in his lap under the table. When Bucky made to swipe a grape, Loki flicked his hand away with a glare.

When you returned to your room that evening, with Loki hot on your heels and his hands already halfway up your shirt, you were baffled to find your bed down one more pillow.

“PAL, did you do this?”

He shook his little head, LED screen blinking wide doe eyes up at you. It was the strangest thing, but when he thought you weren’t looking, you could have sworn that he shot Loki a pointed look.

[d-targaryenshoe]

Reflected Love - Benedict Bridgerton

Word Count: 1761

Summary: When one does not see the beauty of themselves, maybe the person that loves them the most can show them, can they not?

You sat in the corner of the room, your gaze fixed upon your husband as he carefully mixed the paints on his palette.

His concentration was absolute, his movements precise and deliberate. You couldn't help but marvel at the way he could lose himself in his work, becoming utterly absorbed by the process of creation.

It was as if he were a different person when he was painting.

You recalled the first time you had seen him in this form when you were still courting.

He had been painting a portrait of you, and you had felt a strange mix of awe and vulnerability as you had watched him capture your likeness on canvas.

It was as if he had been able to see straight into your soul, revealing a depth of understanding that you hadn't known was there.

The canvas he was working on now was a landscape, a serene meadow with a winding stream and a stand of trees in the distance.

The sunlight danced across the scene, casting dappled shadows that you could almost feel on your skin.

It was a peaceful image, a study in tranquility, and you wondered if it was meant to represent something particular in his mind.

You were about to ask him when he paused, his brush hovering above the canvas. "What do you think, dearest?" His voice was soft, almost tentative.

You considered the question for a moment. The light was beginning to fade, and the room was growing dim.

You moved closer to the painting, your eyes taking in the details that you hadn't noticed from afar.

"It's beautiful, Ben," you said truthfully. "It reminds me of the day we picnicked at the lake, just outside of town."

He looked up at you, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips. "You remember that?"

You nodded, your heart swelling at the memory. "Of course, It was one of my favorite days with you."

He smiled, his gaze lingering on you for a moment before he returned to his painting. "I'm glad you think so. I've been trying to capture that feeling of serenity and peace in this landscape. Do you think I've succeeded?"

You studied the painting once more, taking in the way the colors danced across the canvas, the gentle brushstrokes that created the impression of a soft breeze rippling through the grass and the leaves of the trees.

"Yes, I believe you have, love. It's beautiful." you paused, your eyes meeting his once more. "But there's something else I've been wanting to speak to you about."

Your husband's brush hovered over the canvas, waiting for you to continue. He had always been attentive to you, and quick to offer support and understanding.

You took a deep breath, gathering your courage. "It's about myself," you said softly. "Lately, I've been feeling rather self-conscious. I've been wondering if I look...different to you."

Benedict's brow furrowed in confusion. "Different? Of course not, my love. You're the most beautiful woman in the world to me." He set his brush down on the palette and turned to face you. "Why do you ask?"

"Just rather curious, yet you're my husband, I felt like I wanted to know."

Your words hung in the air between you, and Benedict took a moment to consider his response. He knew that you were likely referring to the change in your relationship since courting became a marriage.

"I do see you differently now, my love," he said gently. "But not in a way that makes you any less gorgeous or desirable to me. I see the depth of your soul, the strength of your character, the love that you bring into my life."

He moved closer to you, taking your hands in his. "You are my wife, y/n, and nothing will ever change that."

You smiled at his words, feeling the warmth of his touch. "I know that. It's just...I want to make sure you're happy. I want to be the woman you need me to be."

Benedict held out his hand towards you. "May I?"

You nodded, your heart swelling with emotion. As he took your hand in his, you felt a sense of peace and reassurance wash over you. "What are you going to do?"

"Trust me," Benedict answered, leading you over to the long mirror that was placed in the corner of the room, standing behind you.

He started to undo the ties of your dress, making the fabric fall down to the ground.

"I want you to close your eyes," he whispered, his voice low and gentle. "And just feel."

You hesitated for a moment, then obeyed. You felt the cool air caress your skin as he moved your hair aside, exposing your neck.

His touch was so light, so gentle, that it sent shivers down your spine. You breathed in deeply, letting the sensations wash over you.

You felt his fingers trace circles on your back, and you arched your spine instinctively, wanting more.

It was a strange, intoxicating feeling, being so vulnerable and yet so desired. You could hear the soft rustle of his clothes as he moved closer, and the warmth of his body against yours made your heart race.

With a soft moan, you let your head fall back against his shoulder, allowing him to guide your movements.

His touch was confident and sure, and you felt utterly safe in his embrace. He placed a tender kiss at the base of your neck, sending a shiver down your spine.

"Look at yourself," he whispered, his voice thick with desire. "Look at how captivating you are."

You obeyed, opening your eyes and gazing into the mirror.

The reflection showed you how Benedict had his strong arms wrapped tightly around you.

She could see the intensity in his eyes as he looked down at you, his expression one of pure adoration.

As he continued to hold you close, you could feel the hardness of his body against yours, and you longed for him.

His touch was so gentle and tender, yet so possessive and demanding. He lowered his head and kissed you deeply, his tongue dancing with yours.

You moaned into his mouth, arching your back as he took control, your bodies moving in perfect sync.

He guided your hands to his chest, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your fingertips.

You ran your nails lightly across his skin, teasing him, and he growled with pleasure.

Benedict pulled away from the kiss, gazing down at you with fierce adoration. "I need you," he breathed, his voice thick with desire.

You arched your back, offering yourself to him. "Have me," you whispered, feeling a delicious ache spread through your body.

He moved with a grace that belied his strength, guiding your hips to meet his rhythm.

Your bodies moved together in perfect harmony, each stroke deeper and more urgent than the last.

Your nails dug into his shoulders, leaving tiny half-moons in his skin as he drove into you, claiming you as his own.

You gasped his name, your breath coming in ragged gasps as your bodies moved together in a dance of desire.

He kissed you roughly, his tongue tangling with yours, his teeth grazing your bottom lip.

You arched your back, feeling the familiar tension building deep within you.

You could feel the pull between you both, the connection that went beyond physical desire.

It was as if you were two halves of a whole, perfectly fitted together. He thrust into you harder, faster, his eyes locked on your reflection in the mirror.

"You're so beautiful," he growled, his voice rough with desire.

You moaned in reply, arching your back to meet his thrusts. "I want you," you breathed, feeling the familiar tension building deep within you. "I need you."

Benedict growled, his movements becoming more urgent as he drove deeper inside you.

He leaned in, capturing your lips in a fierce kiss, his tongue dancing with yours.

You could feel his strength, his power, as he held you close, his hands running down your back, cupping your bottom, lifting you higher against him.

"Oh God," you moaned, your voice breaking as you moved with him, your bodies in perfect sync.

You could feel the mirror under your hands, and the contrast between the hard surface and the softness of his skin only served to heighten your senses.

Benedict's movements grew more urgent, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he looked into your eyes.

"That was..."

Your words trailed off as you clung to Benedict, your bodies still entwined. The intensity of your lovemaking had left you both breathless, your hearts racing.

You could feel the warmth of his skin against yours, the steady rhythm of his breath in your ear.

He had been so rough with you, driving into you with such urgency, but it hadn't been overwhelming. It had been exactly what you needed.

You felt a shiver run down your spine as you remembered the look in his eyes, the way he had looked at you as if you were the only person in the world.

You knew that you had given yourself to him completely, and in that moment, you couldn't imagine ever wanting anyone else.

As your breathing began to steady, you could feel the weight of his body pressing against yours, the warmth of his skin.

You could still feel the mark of his hands on your hips, the impression of his fingers against your skin.

It was as if he had left a part of himself there, branding you as his own.

"Not that, but you, you are, the center of everything I do," Benedict said.

You ran your fingers through his hair, feeling the softness of it against your fingertips. "So are you," you replied, looking deeply into his eyes.

"But if I'm right, we're still very naked in this room where every moment one of your siblings can walk in."

Benedict chuckled, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "Oh, they won't bother us," he assured you. "They know I adore the art of nude portraits." His words sent a shiver down your spine.

"I love you."

You whispered the words as you gazed up into his eyes, your heart racing. You felt so exposed and vulnerable in this moment, but at the same time, so free.

He had always made you feel this way as if you were the most important person in the world.

As if there was nothing you couldn't do or be with him by your side.

[kamiversee]

➶-͙˚ ༘✶ 𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝙁*𝘾𝙆 𝙇𝙄𝙎𝙏

✧.* CHAPTER 45 || The Chilling Confession

[ { SYPNOSIS } ] ➤ A tale in which Gojo Satoru blackmails you into seducing a list of people to clear his debt. Sounds easy enough, right?

[ { CHAPTER CONTENT } ] ➤ language, fluff, dark themes, & semi-angst?

[ { WORD COUNT } ] ➤ 6.5k

[ { PAIRINGS } ] ➤ jjk men x f!reader. gojo x f!reader. geto x f!reader. toji x f!reader. choso x f!reader. sukuna x f!reader. nanami x f!reader.

[ [ chapters mlist } ]

——YOU DRIFTED OFF to sleep trying to figure out what it is you wanted to do. Maybe you’ll just figure it out as you go from this point on.

After all, it seems as though it’s time for your final arc to take place.

By that, it’s meant that it’s time for you to tell Gojo you’ve completed the list, have him pay you one last time, and then, per his promise, use his help (if needed) to get with Choso.

There’s been so many highs and lows since this entire thing started. So many memories lay locked within your clouded mind. Between the love, passion, anger, and confusion, you think it would be best to allow the rest to flow naturally.

Will you question Gojo? Maybe, maybe not. You haven’t decided yet. Either way, he’s already told you that he had no plans on revealing the truth to you until years later so, there really is no point in asking him anything, is there?

Sure, you’ll remain confused but, confusion may be better than frustration. At least, for right now.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆ .　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

The warmth of the morning sun is what woke you up. Bright rays shined upon your face, making your eyes scrunch together just as they fluttered open.

The side of your face was pressed against a chest-- Nanami’s firm chest. Just as you woke up and angled your head up to his face, you noticed he was already awake, his eyes peering up at the ceiling. The blond seemed to deep in thought before you looked at him, your movement causing him to turn his attention to you.

A small smile was drawn across your lips, “Morning’.” You humed.

Nanami nods, “Good morning.” He replies, his voice deeper than the night prior due to the grogginess of slumber.

This sudden feeling of peace wrapped around you like a blanket as you thought to yourself for just a moment; you could get used to waking up like this.

“Sleep well?” Nanami asked.

His arm was around your waist and you didn’t bother trying to reposition yourself from laying halfway on top of him. “Yeah, you?” Your voice was just as soft as his and you wondered how the morning would play out.

He nodded again, “Slept’ fine.” Nanami says simply, “It’s nice feeling someone snuggling up against me in the middle of the night. It helped me rest.”

You chuckle, “Sorry if I was clingy in my sleep.” As you say that, you start moving to sit up.

The man shrugs, “I enjoyed it.”

One of your hands was against his chest as you sat up comfortably and Nanami’s grasp slid down to rest on your hip. You turned away from him for a moment, taking in the pleasant sight of his well-kept bedroom as the sunlight cascaded over the area.

Bright colors of the furniture made the light reflect and gave the entire room this beautiful golden hue. Truthfully, you could wake up here every day happily.

Nanami suddenly sighs, “Y’know… I’ve uh, I’ve never done this before.”

You blink and then turn your head to him, “This?”

“A one-night stand,” He clarifies.

Well, at least he knows this was a one-time thing…

You chuckle, “Typically, I’d be gone before you woke up.”

He hums, “Is that so?”

“Yeah,” You shrug, “There’s less attachment when you just up and leave.”

Nanami nods, “Less attachments,” He echoes, almost as if he were noting this down in his head. “Yeah, that’s where I’m having difficulty.”

You raise a brow, “One night with me and you’re already attached?”

He chuckles, “Not exactly. I’m just not used to having sex and then parting from someone completely.”

“I see,” You murmur, “Well,” Your gaze grows somber all of a sudden as you trail the tip of your fingers up along his chest, “You’ll forget about me sooner or later.”

Nanami scoffs, “I won’t.”

You meet his eyes, “And why not?”

“I told you,” His other hand goes to yours and he rests his palm on top of where you’d been tracing his skin, “You’re my first one-night stand.”

You tilt your head, “Give it a few years maybe? You’ll forget all about this.”

Nanami’s eyes are full of seriousness, “I may not be attached but it’ll be pretty hard to forget the woman who used her career to get into my pants…” 

Your eyes widen for a second, and then, you burst out laughing, “That’s my flirting tactic, sorry.”

Nanami smiles, “I’ve realized. Speaking of which,” He moves and sits up, “Did the sex give you the information you needed?”

You blink, “Uh…”

“I was supposed to show you how stressed I am,” Nanami recalls, smirking a bit, “Did I do that effectively?”

You flash a smile, “Yeah, you did that perfectly. This’ll totally help me get that job.”

He chuckles, “What is the job you’re looking to get again? You said it was something at our school?”

“Oh, it’s just an internship.” You say with a shrug.

“Right,” He nods, “Is this internship what you plan on doing forever or…?”

You laugh a bit. Something about this morning's conversation is making you oddly happier than expected, perhaps it was because you enjoyed discussing your future with someone, “No, of course not. It’s just all I can obtain right now,” You explain.

Nanami raises a brow, “So what’s your career goal?”

“Hmmm… Anything in therapy, I believe.” You explain simply.

He nods, “I could see you in that.”

His words make you smile all too hard, “Really?”

“Yes, of course,” Nanami replies quickly.

You giggle, “I’m glad someone can see me working in my dream field.”

“Mhm,” He hums, nodding a little, “Could’ see you as a sex therapist too.”

Your eyes widen, “A sex therapist? Me?”

“Yes you,” Nanami claims, a gentle scoff slipping past his lips, “I’m sure you’ve had enough experience to help others.”

“Did you just call me a whore again?” You ask, your tone flat.

He panics all over again, “N-No, I-”

You laugh at him, “I’m joking, relax. But it did seem like that was a fancy way to say I sleep around.”

“Well,” Nanami looks off to the side, raising a curious brow, “Do you?”

You grin, shamelessly accepting the truth of what you’ve done over the past few months, “I mean, my answer really depends on what you consider sleeping around.”

The man chuckles at your words, “I’ll take that as you telling me you don’t sleep around but you are very experienced.”

You shrug, “Yeah, something like that.”

“Right so,” Nanami lets out a yawn, bringing his fist up to his mouth for a moment to cover it. Then, he sighs, “Our whole interaction was, what exactly?”

You raise a brow, “Uh, for research purposes of course.”

He laughs a bit before moving to get out the bed, “Research purposes, she says.”

Your gaze follows him as he stretches his arms up over his head and then heads over to his bathroom, “It was for my study, remember?”

Nanami flicks on the bathroom light and then turns back to you, “For your study…” He repeats, clearly not believing you.

“Yup,” You hum with a smile as he then starts to approach you once more.

The man comes to the side of the bed you’re seated on and offers his hand to you, “So you’re telling me we had sex,” You take his hand and he helps you to get out of the bed and stand to your feet, “For your study?” He finishes.

You angle your head up to him and continue to smile innocently, “Yes sir.”

Nanami freezes for a moment, then he swallows, “First off, don’t call me that. Secondly, so you mean to tell me our entire interaction can be classified as… sex for business?”

He helps to walk you over to the bathroom, your hand held in his the entire time as you carefully take step after step. “I can’t call you sir? If you plan on being a CEO one day, you’ll have to get used to that, y’know…”

“It’s different when a woman like you says it,” Nanami claims. Meanwhile, you two make it to the bathroom and you move to lean against the counter as he goes to grab a spare toothbrush for you, “It hits my ears a bit differently.”

You scoff, “It turns you on, doesn’t it?”

Again, Nanami freezes. This time, he then clears his throat and finds a toothbrush, handing you the item afterward, “I didn’t say that…”

“You also didn’t say no,” You point out. “I mean, what’s gonna’ happen when you meet an attractive woman in business who calls you sir all day long?”

He shakes his head and rolls his eyes at you, “That won’t happen.”

You raise a brow, “Are you saying you don’t think there are attractive women in business?”

“No, that’s not what I’m saying at all. What I’m saying is I know how to keep my composure in a work setting so,” He looks at you, “No woman is going to distract me by using that honorific.”

“And what about outside of the workplace?” You ask, tipping your head to the side.

He gazes at you for a moment and then shrugs, turning away, “That’s a bit different.”

“Uhuh, sure it is,” You say with a scoff as you look at the mirror in front of you, taking in your reflection for a second, “Anyways, what was the second thing you said? Did you say we had sex for business?” You ask with a laugh.

Nanami nods, “Yes, sex for business.”

“That’s an interesting phrase to put to it but, y’know what, it works. Sex for business; an act in which one sleeps with someone with the intent of gaining information or possibly status,” You define in a joking manner.

Your words make the blond laugh as he starts putting toothpaste on his toothbrush, “Wonderful way to describe it.”

“I know right?” You chuckle, moving to follow suit.

The two of you then brush your teeth in comfortable silence, the air peaceful between you both. After which, Nanami offers to make you breakfast but you turn him down, quickly reminding him that this was supposed to operate as a one-night stand and you’ve already overstayed your welcome.

To which he agreed, knowing deep down that even if this was a one-night stand and the two of you were to never cross paths again, he’d never forget his time spent with you. Not only because he enjoyed your company but also because, just as he stated, you were the first woman he’d done this with so, the memory would stick.

That, and he truly did like talking to you. You were different than the women he spoke to in his field of study. A woman of psychology who used that information to seduce him; how was he to ever let that information go?

It was a bittersweet moment to take you home. Nanami couldn’t stop his gaze from lingering on your features for a moment longer than intended and any words you uttered to him stuck in his mind so strongly.

Especially the final short conversation you had with him. By that point, you were in his vehicle and already at your apartment when you had wished Nanami the best. Perhaps it was you reflecting what you wished you had onto him but you truly hoped that he’d find a woman deserving of him.

And if not that, then he’d end up with someone who didn’t have as nearly as much drama in their life as you did.

To which he responded with, “I appreciate that but, if I care about a woman enough, trust me when I say, no amount of drama will keep me from pursuing her.”

You laughed at that, “Yeah? Well, what if she was a whore?”

Nanami stared dead into your eyes and didn’t hesitate to respond to that, “If I care enough, perhaps I’d capitalize off that.”

“Capitalize off of the woman you like being a whore?” You ask curiously.

He shrugs, “That could help in business.”

Your brows knit together, “How so?”

“Women have the ability to climb their way up in corporate situations by sometimes sleeping their way up,” Nanami explains, “So if I found a woman that just so happened to be a whore and I truly cared for her, well…” He shrugs, “I guess what I’m trying to say is; her being a whore wouldn’t matter.”

“Hah.” You hum, “Interesting.”

“Yeah, but,” Nanami shrugs, “The chances of me finding a seductress in business is zero to none.”

“And why is that?” You ask, raising a brow.

He chuckles, “I’ll have risen to the top by the time I find one so, what good would she do me?”

You begin to move to exit the car, “I mean, you never know…”

He blinks, “Never know what?”

“She could threaten your position,” Was the last thing you said regarding that topic to him.

Nanami hadn’t considered that. So, something about that final conversation really stuck with him. Never would he forget the woman that you are.

“I guess we’ll see,” He hums to you.

You nod, “Mhm, maybe I’ll hear about it in the news as some big business-ey scandal,” You say teasingly.

Nanami shakes his head, rolling his eyes at your words, “Yeah right. Go on upstairs now.”

You laugh, “Bye Kento.”

He meets your eyes one last time, “Bye darling.”

With your heart fluttering at the nickname, you finally exit the car and shut the door behind you, giving the man one last wave before heading upstairs to your apartment. 

Unlike everyone else on the list, for some reason, Nanami just felt like one of the best interactions. From beginning to end, he gave you peace. Again, somewhere deep down inside you wished for a reality in which you could have prolonged the amount of time spent with him.

But even so, it was time to go back to your current reality-- the one in which you had a decision to make…

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆ .　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆ 

You decided to spend that weekend coming to peace with what it is you were going to do. You could question Gojo about the list but somewhere deep down inside, it was as though you didn’t want to know the truth.

The thought of Gojo being an asshole all along really does bother you. It brings a sting to your heart. Especially since you’d already settled on forgiving him, to undo all you’ve been through with the man by interrogating him all over again just seems like you’re running in a circle, a path of drama with no end.

And that’s the very thing you no longer have the energy to do anymore. With the list complete, you want to experience what you wished you had for the past few months-- freedom.

No more of the blackmail. Finally would you be able to do things on your own without the restrictions of having a man you’d need to seduce.

So, after the weekend, you decided to text Gojo. You told yourself you weren’t going to ask him anything but who knows how that would actually play out? Either way, when you texted Gojo, you told him you had a surprise for him, that surprise being the completion of the list.

Using the excuse of a surprise was the only reason you were able to see him. After all, Gojo was very firm on no contact during your break from him. But of course, when you text him saying you need to see him and there’s a surprise, he agrees to such an event with no hesitation.

Leading to now, a moment that mirrors months ago as you stand at his apartment door, knocking against the wood and awaiting someone to open the door for you. It takes about a minute but the door is soon opened for you and you’re met with the sight of Gojo Satoru.

Fresh out of the shower, shirtless, water dripping and sliding down his body from his wet head of hair, and beautiful love-struck gaze lighting up at the sight of you-- Gojo stands there with a hand on the door, welcoming you in.

He couldn’t even get a greeting out before you entered his apartment and threw your arms around him. Gojo’s breath hitches like always and he could feel his heart skipping a beat in reaction to feeling your warmth against him.

Then, as he hugged you back and kicked the apartment door shut, you shifted your head to meet his eyes, “Hi Satoru,” You greeted.

His entire world, past, present, and future, he found in you within that moment. That sweet voice of yours, uttering his name after so long, such a honeyed tone leaving the beauty that is your lips, along with those eyes of yours that just gazed up at him so naturally.

Gojo found no anger, no regret, and no unhappiness in your eyes for once. Typically, when you looked at him, you always had one of those emotions reflected in your irises but as you stood wrapped in his arms now, you finally looked at peace.

The white-haired man couldn’t help the big gushing smile that spreads across his face, his heart just throbbing in his chest-- holy fuck he was so stupidly in love with you. Just a hug and a call of his name and he was already struggling to breathe or think properly.

Gojo tips his head to the side and you experience butterflies with how much love drips from his words to you, “Hi sweetheart,” He says so very simply, his hands shifting to hold your waist, “Miss me?”

For a moment, you just forget all that he’s done to you. Which is exactly why you couldn’t stand seeing him. Always would his touches, his looks, and his voice make you blind to everything he’s done.

You nod, “A little bit,” The way your voice grazes his ears makes him want to kiss you more than anything. If perfection were a person, in Gojo’s love-blinded mind, it would be you.

“Yeah?” Gojo’s smile widens, “Never’ thought I’d see the day…”

“Me neither but,” You shrug, “You’re the only person who gets on my nerves juust right.”

Your hands slide down from around his neck and you settle them on his arms. His body was moist from his recent shower but you didn’t care, his skin was soft and he smelled so good.

Gojo bit his lower lip for a second, “Am I?”

“That’s not a good thing, Satoru.” You tell him with a scoff.

The feeling of his fingers tracing small circles into your waist as if the motion comforts him was hard to ignore. His touch was so light but you couldn’t help but notice it. “I think that makes me special,” Gojo says with a little shrug.

You roll your eyes, “Yeah, my special pain in the ass.” You huff out.

His eyes won’t leave your face for even a moment as he tilts his head again, “Your special pain in the ass?”

You freeze, having not realized what you said, and steadily drag your gaze back to him, “I just meant like…” For just a second, you lose your words as you make eye contact with him.

Maybe it was because you’d seen Gojo under a negative light for so long but damn were those ocean-blue eyes of his one of the most beautiful sights. You nearly got lost in said sight as you looked at him.

“Like what, love?” Gojo whispered, “I mean, you didn’t say anything wrong. I am your special pain in the ass.”

You chuckle lightly, still dazed by the eye contact, “That’s not true, you’re a pain in the ass to a lot of people.”

He smiles, “That’s not true, people just don’t like me…”

“Maybe because you’re a pain in the ass?” You point out.

“Nah, I think I’m pretty great,” Gojo jokes with a shrug.

“You’re an idiot,” You hum.

His sights dip down to your lips, the urge strong. “I already corrected you on this before, I’m your idiot.”

“That’s so cheesy,” You comment, shaking your head but smiling.

Gojo sighs out your name and you swear your heart just leaps over three beats as he grips onto your waist and pulls your body closer to his.

Batting your eyelashes at him and the sudden seriousness in his gaze, you smile sheepishly, “Hm?”

“I love you so much,” Gojo claims. The words roll off his tongue far too easily and hold way too much affection for you to ever doubt such a thing. Maybe he does love you but, even so, it’s a twisted way of love.

You’re smiling but you never really know how to respond to that, “Do you?”

“I do,” He says quickly, “I swear to you I do.”

Your hands go to his face suddenly and you cup his cheeks in your palm, feeling gentle drops of water flick down onto your skin from his wet hair, “I wish I could believe you,” You whisper to the man.

He frowns a little, “I’m sorry I haven’t expressed it enough-”

“No that’s the thing,” Your voice is so calm and gentle that he just shuts up when you open your mouth, feeling like he’s hanging off the edge of each syllable that leaves your throat, “You express it through words but how can I believe you love me when you don’t express it through actions, Satoru?”

“I…” Gojo trails off. He knows that with him the conversation will always end up going in this direction so, he’s not surprised by you asking such questions.

“Did you blackmail me because you love me?” You murmur, “Or, do you love me because you blackmailed me? Help me understand why your words don’t align with your actions.”

Your sudden question had him at a loss for words. What is he supposed to say to that? How does he explain himself to you without revealing the god-forsaken truth of it all?

Gojo swallows hard, “You know I can’t answer that, sweetheart.”

A soft smile graces your face and you nod, “Of course you can’t…”

“I wish I could,” He whispers.

“Stop wishing, Satoru,” God every time you say his name he swears he stops breathing, “It’s over now so you can tell me.”

The man blinks, “What do you mean it’s over? What’s over?”

“The list,” You whisper, “I finished it.”

Those pretty white eyelashes of his bat in disbelief, “Y-You, what?”

“Friday night, I went to that nightclub, met Nanami, did my thing, and then slept with him,” You explain casually as if you didn’t just drop the fact that you finished the list.

Gojo doesn’t know what to say for a second. He’s just staring at you in disbelief. Then, just when you think he may get upset that you finished the list, the most relieved expression takes over his handsome features. Gojo Satoru appears as though he’s more at peace about it than you.

“You… You did it,” He whispers out in shock, “W-Was this your surprise?”

You nod, grinning a bit, “Mhm, I would’ve texted or called but uh…” You glance off to the side, “I kinda… sorta… I w-wanted to see you,” You stumble out.

Gojo’s eyebrows raise and then he brings his hands up over your own, turning his head to the side a bit so that he can kiss your palm, “So you really did miss me?”

For some reason, you get embarrassed by that fact and heat rushes to your face, “N-No…”

Gojo chuckles, “It’s okay to miss me, sweetheart.” He tells you, smiling against your skin before pressing another kiss into you, “It’s not a crime, love.”

You bring your eyes to his actions, finding it adorable the way his face is mushed in your hands and how he peppers your palm with small pecks, “We both know it should be.”

“A crime for us to feel things for each other?” Gojo asks.

“You love me and I should hate you,” You explain, “The feelings we have for each other are forbidden.”

He scoffs and the look in his eyes is stern, “Ask me if I care about it being forbidden?”

“You should,” You hum, “Satoru, you blackmailed me into clearing your debt,” That he doesn’t even have, but you don’t add that bit on just yet.

“Well,” Gojo sighs heavily and then draws your hands off his face, leaning down to you a bit, “Sometimes, sacrifices need to be made in exchange for one’s happiness.”

“Are you telling me that all this was for the greater good?” You quiz as you raise a curious brow.

“Something like that, yeah,” He shrugs.

Of course, none of that makes sense to you but you don’t have it in you to argue. Gojo then looks down at your neck, his gift to you still sitting there prettily. He wonders for a moment if you ever take it off.

“Satoru,” You call, breaking him from his thoughts, “Since it’s all over… Can you uh-,”

“No,” He cuts off, “I already told you, I can’t and I won’t tell you everything until years later if you still even care by then.”

You groan a little, “I want to understand it though. How am I to just move on from this without ever knowing why it was done to begin with-”

“I told you why,” Gojo interrupts yet again. There goes that wall of his he puts up, but after learning that his debt with Nanami was a lie, you’re unsure if he’s serious or not when he says, “I was bored.”

You scoff, “All this, just because you were bored? You tormented me, a woman you claim to love, out of boredom?”

He swallows, hard, “Yeah.”

He’s lying. It’s so obvious that he is but even so, his words sting you nonetheless. If you ask him what you really want to and tell him what Nanami told you, you’ll probably get the truth but, that’s exactly what you’re afraid of.

Shaking your head at him, you sigh, “You are many things Gojo Satoru,” You whisper as you bring a hand to his face once more, caressing his skin and watching how he struggles not to melt to your touch, “A good liar is not one of them. A decent actor, maybe. But,” Your brows push together, “How long will you pretend to be a bad person when I know that’s not what you are?”

Gojo doesn’t know what to do with himself when you see right through him like this. So, instead, he chuckles, “Until it’s safe to tell you the truth.”

“Where’s the danger in the truth?” You ask carefully, searching his eyes for the honesty, “Hm?”

He doesn’t answer your question. Instead, he goes a different direction with his response.

“The person I am around you now,” Gojo’s words leave his lips slowly, as if he’s carefully piecing them together, “Is not the person who fell in love with you. A-And, that person, that version of me… he… he’s done some pretty fucked up shit. Sure, the list and the blackmail are bad but…” He looks away, “I’ve done worse.”

You blink, “I-”

“For you,” Gojo adds on, “I’ve done worse, for you.”

That claim holds so much weight to it. Hell, it leads you to quick assumptions that scare you to think about, “Satoru…”

“Yes, love?” He responds, his eyes on yours calmly.

“Did you…” You swallow, “Did you hurt someone by any chance?”

Gojo doesn’t reply.

You blink, trying to calm the chill his lack of response gives you, “You can tell me, y’know.”

“I can’t actually,” He corrects.

“Satoru, are you like, some kinda crazy obsessive yandere?” You say jokingly, laughing at your own question and trying to lighten the sudden tension.

He doesn’t laugh though, which is genuinely scary. “I’m not crazy,” Gojo utters, his voice low and dark, “And yandere is a bit of a stretch.”

“So…” Your hand steadily leaves his face and the soft touches between the two of you are severed, “What about obsessive?”

Gojo glances to the side for a moment, “Define obsessive to me.”

“Well, obsessive is the nature of an obsession and an obsession is the filling of the mind of someone continuously and intrusively, so much so that it becomes troubling,” You define flawlessly, “If I’m interpreting this correctly… Satoru are you saying you’re obsessed with me?”

“If that’s the definition then,” His gaze drags over to your face and swirled in with his look of pure love is in fact this darkened shade of an obsession, “Yes, yes I am obsessed with you.”

You nod, not exactly wrapping your head around the gravity of his claims, “Right… And if that’s the case, is this obsession of yours what led you to hurt someone?”

“I never said I hurt anyone.” He murmurs. His voice is chillingly calm.

Your nerves are rising and goosebumps are decorating your skin unknowingly, “You never said you didn’t.”

“Why’re you asking me all these questions anyway?” Gojo asks suddenly, chuckling a bit as he tries to redirect the conversation, “Shouldn’t you be out with Choso right now confessing your love to him-”

“Don’t change the subject, Satoru.” You say, your voice firm and this slight shake heard through your words, “You just told me you’re fucking obsessed with me like some kinda’ stalker and implied that you’ve hurt someone because of it.”

Oh? You were… upset? Gojo has this weird feeling in his chest as he realizes that. His true red flags were becoming more and more transparent as the seconds passed but never does he show the white one hidden behind him.

“I mean,” He shrugs, as if it was no big deal, “What do you want me to say?”

Your face twists up in aggravation, “How about the truth?”

“Can’t do that, sweetheart. I feel like a broken record repeating that to you-”

“So am I supposed to just take all the info you just gave me and be happy with that?”

“Yes, actually,” Gojo shrugs, “Yes, you are.”

And just like that, you’re set off nicely, “Right so now I know that not only are you a blackmailer, you also have a  screw loose which is why you blackmailed me in the first place because apparently, you don’t know the difference between love and a sick obsession.”

He laughs a bit, clearly not taking your emotions seriously, “That’s not-”

“And so, with this obsession of yours, you became so ridiculously infatuated with me and that’s what led to the creation of that list, right? Because you didn’t know how to talk to me like a sane human being, you took your obsession and used that to bring me down this dark path with you.”

“Sweetheart, I-”

“Now I’m in a position where I don’t know what to believe about you or who you are and I have to go the rest of my life not only not knowing the truth but also lying to Choso about this whole thing because there is absolutely no way he’ll still want to be with me if he finds out he was only ever a name on some list to check off.”

He just falls quiet, staring at your poor confused eyes. He really has taken you through a whirlwind of emotions, hasn’t he? It’s unfortunate that it had to be you in this position but, he knows he had no other choice.

“I mean,” Gojo’s voice is small now, “What did you think I meant when I said I'm sorry for loving you and that that’s what caused all this-”

“No, don’t give me that bullshit,” You spit out, “Love isn’t what caused this. You caused this, Satoru.”

“I…”

“You and this weird…” You take a step back from him suddenly, “Obsession.” The way you say that word lets him know you’re almost repulsed by hearing such a thing.

He sighs, “Sweets, listen-”

“Don’t.” You cut off, “Don’t call me that. D-Don’t call me anything.”

“Are you…” Gojo’s eyes narrow and he studies both your body language and your expression, “Does that information scare you?”

“What?” You scoff.

“Me being obsessed with you.” He clarifies.

Does he even hear himself right now? “You sound like a madman,” You say. Then, you take a deep breath and just shake all your thoughts away, “But, y’know what,” You throw your hands up in a shrug, “I’ll just pretend I never heard this.”

“I-”

“No, save it. I’ll just pretend I don’t know you’re absolutely fucking crazy a-and I’ll just uh, go confess my love to Choso,” You claim, nervously laughing at the whole thing.

Gojo’s confession to him being obsessed with you had driven you just about as crazy as him at this point. Any further with this conversation and you might actually lose your mind.

“So you do love him?” Gojo asks.

You simply shrug and scoff, turning to the nearby door, “I don’t know.”

Gojo moves and grabs a careful hold of your arm but it… it scares you. Genuine fear coursed through your veins and when you looked up at the white-haired man, for the first time ever, you were genuinely terrified.

“S-Satoru…” You whisper, voice trembling.

The man’s hold on you doesn’t let up and he steps closer to you, “Sweetheart, you know I’d never hurt you, right?”

God, he is really worrying you right now. “U-Uhm, yeah I think I know that b-but,” You glance down at his hand on your arm, “Can you let me go?”

Gojo does the opposite and pulls you closer to him, “Why are you looking at me like that?” He questions, his voice softening.

He must not have realized how intimidating he seemed right now. Perhaps you truly didn’t ever realize just how deep his love for you goes. “Like what?” You squeak out.

He tilts his head, “Like you’re… like you’re afraid of me.”

“Satoru,” Your voice is still shaky but you’re trying to keep yourself together, “An obsession like the one you have with me, i-it isn’t healthy.”

“Why not?” Gojo asks so innocently. He really didn’t understand the danger behind his own emotions.

“Because…” You stare back and forth between his left and right eyes, trying to calm yourself from being scared. It’s just Gojo, right? “Because, that, Satoru, that’s a crime.”

“To be obsessed with you is a crime?” He questions, innocence and ignorance reflected in his gaze.

You give him a little comforting smile, something about the situation is still unsettling but because it’s Gojo, it’s easier for you to just ignore the chill creeping up along your spine, “Just as loving me isn’t a crime, being obsessed with me is.”

Gojo blinks, “How?”

Your voice is so gentle with him that he honestly felt like a patient of therapy for a moment, “Because look at what it’s led to.”

He nods understandingly. Only you could ever be able to effectively explain the wrongs behind his emotions, “I see… But, I can’t just… stop this feeling.”

“I understand that,” You say, nodding a bit, “B-But, try uhm… try to control it, yeah?”

“Is that what you want me to do?” He asks.

Your brows furrow, “Satoru this isn’t for me, it’s for you.”

Gojo didn’t understand the concept behind that sentence. To him, he’s nothing more than a slave to you and whatever emotions you feel for him. From the moment you came to see him today, he felt his false persona chipping away up until he revealed to you his true feelings.

Gojo Satoru’s love for you did, in fact, run deeper than imagined. That’s part of the truth behind the situation and what he’s put you through but, he still can’t tell you everything. So, for now, you knowing this dark secret of his will have to do.

“Okay,” He hums.

You swallow and look down at his hand still on you, “Can uh… Can I go now?”

Gojo mimics you and looks down at his grasp. When had it grown so tight? Steadily, he loosens his grip on you and releases a sigh, he doesn’t even know what exactly came over him for a second, “Y-Yeah, sorry.”

You shrug, “It’s okay. Um, if or when I figure things out with Choso,” You look up at Gojo one last time, “I’ll let you know?”

“You’re not obligated to,” He hums.

You snicker, “I mean, you and I still have a journal to burn together so… We’ll have to see each other again regardless.”

Gojo raises a skeptical brow at you, “Why didn’t you bring it today?”

You freeze, “W-Well uhh…”

“You wanted an excuse to see me more than once, didn’t you?”

With a sheepish giggle, you nod, “Yeah, maybe.”

The man shakes his head and then his hands suddenly move to grab your face and pull you toward him again, “Sweetheart you can’t just say things like that and expect me not to lose my mind.”

You laugh at his dramatics, turning a blind eye to the major red flag he’s presenting through his obsession, “But it’s true, I could’ve brought it today but, I dunno’ I feel like the journal can be burned any day. It doesn’t have to be today.”

“Right…” Gojo hums.

You meet his eyes and he meets yours. Your faces are close to one another and it’s so obvious what he wants to do. “Satoru…” You whisper.

“Yes?” He replies.

“I know you wanna’ kiss me,” You tease.

“I do,” Gojo whines, he’s so desperate all of a sudden, “I really really want to.”

One more can’t hurt, right? A kiss to say bye, perhaps?

“Ask for it,” You whisper.

Gojo’s eyes lower, “Can I kiss you, my love?”

Yeah, in what world could you say no to that? You’re nodding before you even realize it, both of your eyes shutting gently as Gojo leans in and presses his lips to yours. As usual, a kiss from him is enough for you to blind yourself.

Who cares that he’s obsessed with you? How bad can that really be? Who cares that he blackmailed you, it’s over now, right? Everything’s going to be fine so who cares about any of that stuff anymore?

Gojo’s lips are soft, like always, against your own and his tongue is slow and tender to move into your mouth. He’s holding your face in his hands with zero intentions of letting you go and you simply melt into the loving feeling of his kisses.

If there’s one thing about this man you’ll never be able to get over…

It’s his kisses.

He can be obsessed with you, that’s fine.

You’re obsessed with the way he kisses you so, maybe… just maybe, Gojo was right that one night…

Maybe you and him are the same-- two broken people trying to figure out what to do with themselves and the emotions they experience.

In the end, what could go wrong?

GOJO SATORU ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙀𝙖𝙨𝙮

GETO SUGURU ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙀𝙖𝙨𝙮

TOJI FUSHIGURO ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙈𝙚𝙙𝙞𝙪𝙢

KAMO CHOSO ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙎𝙚𝙢𝙞-𝙈𝙚𝙙𝙞𝙪𝙢 / 𝙀𝙖𝙨𝙮

ZEN'IN NAOYA ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙀𝙭𝙩𝙧𝙚𝙢𝙚𝙡𝙮 𝙀𝙖𝙨𝙮

ITADORI SUKUNA ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙎𝙚𝙢𝙞-𝙀𝙖𝙨𝙮???

NANAMI KENTO ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙃𝙖𝙧𝙙

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tags;

@blognicole @suguruologist @luqueam @ivoryviness @sinaxalui @rxnnie18 @carlacujo @gods-landing @bitchysouljellyfish @miles4hour @sinaxalui @annananamin @heart-snow @kiyomizzx @hanuh @acehyacinth @mccookiemonster @tojis-ball-sack @cartwheel6869 @mariluvsusstuff @addie1010 @slammynics @actualz0mbie @hisbitchhh @kay-xle @cunttee3 @voids-universe @raininglovelyfire @itsbokutosjuicyass @peaceoutbritta @barbielani @gennaray @r3inae @kfmcykdy @camiihutt @tokina @curtin81937 @hopefullydecent @nameless-shade @ureuphoriasworld @forgetfulmachine @legbouk @lilliaannn @clementineee0-0 @divinelseraph @didibxx

[myfictionaldreams]

Day 19: Marking - Remus Lupin

Summary: Remus accidentally bites your neck too hard and leaves indents of his teeth, and now it's woken something within him, needing everyone to see the mark he's left on you.

Tags: 18+ readers only, smut, possessive, biting, thigh riding, keeping quiet, licking, sucking, marking, oral (f receiving), size kink/difference, multiple orgasms, breeding kink, creampie

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AO3 Link 

“Remus! You've left a mark on my fucking neck!” you huffed in frustration as you bared your neck further, trying to see the damage your boyfriend had left in your reflection in the cracked mission of the girl's bathroom. It was your favourite place to sneak away to have some alone time which, usually meant fucking against the stall as the bathroom on the third floor wasn’t in use due to the resident ghost, moaning Myrtle, who knew to travel elsewhere when you and Remus came to visit.

Your boyfriend was straightening his tie when he looked up at you, “Shit, did I?” To give him some credit, he sounded genuinely concerned as he came closer, turning your body to face him to inspect your neck. The tip of his index finger and thumb tilted your chin away gently, his forest green eyes dancing over the area of your neck that throbbed slightly. “Oh, I really did mark you up,” he acknowledged his warm breath that smelled faintly of your pussy drifting over your cheek, causing the area to warm in embarrassment. The pad of his thumb brushed over the indent of teeth marks, surrounded by irritated skin from where he’d bitten you during the heat of the moment.

“Does that hurt? When I touch it, does it hurt?” he asked, his voice softening with his gaze. 

“No, it doesn't hurt, but everyone is going to see it. I can't exactly walk around wearing a scarf during class; it's the middle of summer”. Stepping away from him, you rubbed over the area of your neck that had begun to tickle under his delicate touch. Looking up into his bright eyes, you noticed they were still staring at the spot where your fingers were now caressing.

Even though he appeared to be in somewhat of a serious mood, especially as his hands hurt you, there was something more, and fear crept up your spine that maybe the area had begun to appear worse. Quickly turning back to the mirror, you inspected your neck but found it seemed the same.

Your eyes wandered back up to your boyfriend, asking, “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

Remus continued to gaze at your bite mark, his scarred hand lifting to stroke along your jaw. “I don't know”, he admitted, but the deepness of his voice had your eyelids fluttering. “I just like seeing my mark on you. It’ll remind everyone who owns you.” Even though his words were possessive, the smile that peaked on his lips proved he was jesting.

Stepping closer until your neck was aching from a different reason to the mark as you had to tilt back so far to see up into his taller face. “Is that you talking or the possessive wolf?” your smile matched Remus until he was chuckling under his breath as you shoved him against his chest, laughing just as hard. “Asshole, you don’t own me, I am a strong, independent woman”.

Remus dipped his head, laughter still dancing in his eyes, but his words were full of a different type of tease, “Are you sure about that? Weren’t you just saying ‘im yours’ as I fucked you?”

He knew instantly that he’d won when you looked away, body heating in embarrassment. “Not the point”, you huff, returning to looking at your neck in the mirror. “Still doesn’t mean I want to walk around with a giant bite mark on my neck; what am I supposed to do?”

Remus rifles through his school bag until he found the well-used tin he always kept with him as it held a green salve that eased any injuries he’d gain from the full moon. “Come here”, he gently asks, holding out his hand for you to take as he walks into the light a bit more so he can see better. With as much care as he could muster, Remus carefully applied a light layer over the bite mark. You tried not to focus on his fingers' pressure or the intense stare that further warmed your skin. Remus had you wrapped around his little finger, that was for sure, and he could tell by the humming of your pounding heartbeat that he felt as he pressed against your throat.

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see a knowing smile spread across Remus’ face, but thankfully, he began to stand up to his full height, declaring, “All done, you’re as good as new”. He kisses your cheek dramatically before letting go so that you can return to the mirror. The bite mark had healed entirely, and a light sheen from the salve remained.

“Thank you!” you say rejoiced and relieved. Grabbing his hand, you begin to pull him towards the exit, “Come on, the others’ class should be finished by now.

The remainder of the day was pleasantly ordinary. However, you could constantly feel Remus’ eyes on your neck, to the point that you were checking in any reflective surfaces to see if the mark had returned, but it hadn’t. You weren’t sure if it was the desire you saw in his eyes or sympathy as he tended to regret accidentally hurting you through the rough, intimate moments, even as you pleaded with him that you loved every second.

The first time the two of you were finally by yourselves was when it was time for bed. “Is everything okay? You keep looking at my neck and making me paranoid”.

You’re both squished together in his bed in the men’s dormitory, facing one another and whispering so that the others couldn’t hear; even though the curtains were drawn closed, you both had to keep the volume entirely as silencing spells weren’t as effective in the beds which were only discovered after a highly embarrassing night.

Remus lifts his head to rest on his fist, staring down at you, “I just keep thinking about that mark on you”. Lowering his face, he gently kisses over the area of your throat where your pulse throbbed the hardest.

Sighing gently into the touch, you reciprocated the delicateness by running your fingers through his soft hair. “I kept thinking about how much I liked seeing it on you”. Ever the tease, Remus shifted further over your body, turning you slightly onto your back to allow his thigh to push between yours.

“You…did?” between your legs where Remus’ thigh was pressing on began to warm as he tried to keep his voice hushed, which meant that it sounded even more, hoarser than usual, and each draw of his words sent tingles straight to your core. Remus knew you were becoming more aroused and knew his effect on you. Carefully and without any rush, he cupped both of your hands together from behind his head and pushed them up so they were now above yours on the pillow as he held them in one hand.

He nods in answer to your question as he continues kissing up and down your exposed neck, which you bared fully for him. “I just keep thinking about everyone else seeing it, knowing I gave it to you, that you’re mine, and they can’t have you”.

A smile graces your lips as you say with a hint of tease, “You’re very possessive. Has anyone ever told you that, Mr Lupin?”

He groans deep in his chest whilst being mindful of the volume as his open mouth moves up your chin until he’s hovering over your lips, his breath mixing with yours as he confidently states, “You love it”.

You’re arching to try and kiss him, but he keeps moving away. “I do”, you admit which was all he was waiting for before kissing you deeply, breathing heavily against your cheek as your lips move in synchronised passion. His fingers tightened around your hands, holding you down entirely as your body seemed to react of its own accord, hips rolling and lowering so that your naked pussy could rub against the toned muscle of his thighs. As you ground down harder, your clit was massaged and tweaked against his body.

The kiss was momentarily paused as he dipped his face next to yours so that his lips hovered next to your ear as he asked, “Because I’m such a nice boyfriend, I’ll ask this time. Do I have permission to bite and suck wherever I like?”

You knew that he had more salve left in his tin, so without even thinking about it, you pleaded, “You have permission to do anything you want to me”.

Remus didn’t rush; he’d suffer the consequences of being tired tomorrow, but decided it was worth seeing you all riled up. With every inch of self-restraint, your boyfriend's lips caressed back down your neck, so softly that it tickled and caused your whole body to shiver. Especially as he licked certain areas and blew cool air across them, goosebumps would peak over your skin at the action.

As he reached your collarbones, he teased further but this time with his teeth, nipping sharply before easing the pain with a simple kiss. Lower he moved whilst still holding your hands above your head, his thigh remaining stable between yours so that you could continue to get yourself off. You were breathing heavily, back arched to try and move closer as he hovered about your perked nipple.

Remus licked the very tip of your nipple first to see how you’d react, smiling to himself when you accidentally let an innocent moan out before quickly biting your lower lip to shut up so that the others in the room didn’t hear. Shifting his face so that his mouth was just about your nipple, his mouth lowered and sucked harshly, his chin rubbing against your nipple, adding extra stimulation. Again, he licked over the area that now lightly throbbed from where all the blood had gathered at the surface, knowing it would be tender tomorrow.

He did this to each breast, avoiding your nipples altogether, which only made you feel more desperately turned on, which was evident by the wetness soaking the hair over his thighs. He moved, journeying down your sternum and stomach, leaving a sprinkling of bites and hickeys. The most sensitive area - where he had to hold a hand over your mouth to stop your cries - was the inside of your hips, where he knew you were ticklish, but as he sucked and then bit the area, your thighs trembled as the sensation pulsed desire to your core.

If your hands were free from their restraints, you’d have pushed his face lower, especially as the awkward position meant his thigh had disappeared. Thankfully, Remus knew you were melting in the palm of his hand, so he lowered to where you wished. Keeping one hand still holding your wrists and the other over your mouth, Remus was able to lower his face between your legs, which you spread willingly.

A single kiss against your folds had your eyebrows knitting together and moaning so desperate to be released that for a second, you didn’t care if anyone heard you. Remus wanted to release his groan as his lips were now coated in your juices, and he hadn’t even delved deeper yet.

“Gotta keep quiet for me. Can you do that, Love?” Remus asks so that his breath brushes against your core. You nod your head, deciding to bite your tongue instead of your lip as his hands disappear from both your mouth and hands so that he can grip both of your thighs, pushing them back so that you are spread out wider for him.

With a lick to his lips to taste you fully, he contemplated just getting right into it, but instead, he began to bite and mark your thighs. If he wasn’t biting, he was licking or sucking until you were shaking and grabbing to hold onto his hands that were still holding you. You were thoroughly drenched and begging for him to touch any of your pussy, but you made sure to keep your mouth shut. Even though it was dark in the cramped space of his enclosed bed, Remus could see how much you were losing your mind.

Finally snapping his restraint for holding back, he released his hold on your body and began to crawl up it instead until he crowded around you, all long limbs covering you completely. It wasn’t often that you both fucked in his bed, especially with everyone else in the room, because it was nearly impossible to stay quiet, which is why you both sneak away during the day to shag in a bathroom stool. However, Remus couldn’t deny his best girl from being pleasured how she wanted, now when she was currently coated in his marks.

“Silenco”, Remus waved his wand that had been hidden beneath the pillow, causing the atmosphere to sound as if cotton was in your ears, but even with the spell, the bed would creak, and the gaps in the curtains would leak out noise, but it was better than nothing.

You were soaked enough that he didn’t need lube or even spit as he reached between your bodies to swipe his cock between your folds, parting them to gather as much fluids as he could over his impressively sized cock. As he positioned himself at your entrance, he kept one hand over your mouth and then muffled himself by dipping his head between your neck and pressing his lips against your skin.

Your jaw trembled with the desperation to open it and let out the more pathetic of moans as he slowly thrust in, taking his sweet time to allow you to adjust. Your hands settled over his back, careful of his sensitive scars, before digging your nails into the surrounding areas to pull him closer.

In the random areas across Hogwarts that he was able to pull you into supply cupboards or bathroom stalls, Remus fucked you relentlessly hard and fast until his pelvis was a blur. But, in the dormitory, on the rare occasions that you both did have sex, it was slow, with deep penetrations that filled you up to the very brim.

Every single drag of his cock had your eyes shut, with the overwhelming sensations dispersing through your nerves. It felt like he was touching every single part of you at the same time. Your walls fluttered around him as he moved deeper until the tip kissed your cervix, a sweet touch compared to his grip on your throat. It was almost like he was trying to hold you down like a dog in heat, and it did cross your mind to check whether the full moon was any time soon with how possessive he was being.

You’d cum twice by the time his thighs began to tremble, and he was no longer able to hold his tongue anymore. 

“Look so good with my marks on your body, so fucking pretty and desperate for me. Gonna make you mine, so full up and covered in my bites”. His hand rested over your abdomen as he spoke, caressing the area over your womb. “You gonna take it? Like you’ve taken my marks?”

You nod, your hands over your mouth now as you knew it would have been a blubbering sob that would wake everyone in the room if they hadn’t already awakened from Remus's demands. With a powerful thrust that nearly shoved you entirely up the bed, Remus stilled, but you could feel the pulse of his shaft and the way he trembled as his hot seed soaked into your hole.

Thankfully, you were already on a potion for birth control; otherwise, Remus probably would have made his breeding wish come true. After a couple of seconds of catching his breath, sweat coating both of your bodies from the humidity in the enclosed bed space, Remus finally collapsed next to you, turning your body onto its side so he could spoon around you.

You were exhausted and falling asleep before you could nuzzle into the feeling of his lips kissing the marks over your shoulder and neck soothingly. Thankfully there was no noise from any of the other bunks in the room so you assumed everyone had not been woken by the fucking.

The following day, you wake bleary-eyed, and Remus is kissing underneath your ear from where he still lay wrapped around you from behind. Stretching your body and groaning at the sensation of your muscles and joints waking for the day, you giggled as he nipped your ear lobe, “Morning”.

His voice was always so low and husky when he first woke up, but it only made you want to lean into him further, finding his voice soothing and comforting. However, your stomach grumbled to life, alerting both of you to your hunger, which made him chuckle. “I’m hungry too”, he declares, moving further down the bed to open the curtain, shuffling through the clothes on the floor before handing yours over and closing the curtain. From the sounds of it, the other boys were beginning to wake up as Remus changed in the dormitory and you in the curtained-off bed, giving you some privacy from everyone else.

Your muscles ached from the night's activities, but you didn’t think much of it, and it was too dark to notice the darkened areas on your body, which you, too, had forgotten about. Shuffling awkwardly, you eased back the curtain with a sing-song voice shouting, “Morning boys! The sun is shining; what a beautiful day!”

Sirius’ bunk was opposite yours; his curtains were pulled back as he sat up in bed with a soft smile at your morning antics. Wiping the sleep from his eyes, he did a double take, looking over your body with wide eyes before it slowly shifted to a deep-set smirk.

Whistling lowly, he glanced between you and Remus. “Merlin Moony, did you try and chew your girlfriend to death last night?”

Your entire body burned with embarrassment as you looked at your knees, which were bare as you’d dressed in a skirt, seeing the apparent marks on the sensitive inner flesh. “Shit!” you cursed before grabbing your neck, remembering how much Remus had enjoyed playing there last night and shouting, “Shit!” again before rushing to the bathroom, thankful no one else was there.

The mirror in the bathroom gave you the perfect view of the thoroughly marked column of your throat. How could you have forgotten? You were mortified, to say the least. Remus casually leans against the door frame, tying his school time as you hide your embarrassed face in your hands.

“I’m never leaving this room ever again, Sirius is going to tell everyone!”

Remus’ warm body slides up behind yours as he eases your hands away from your face, “I’ll tell him not to, don’t worry. Anyway, I told you I like people seeing these marks on you; it makes me want to do more”. He begins to kiss along your jaw, your body instantly melting into the embrace before you snap out of it and elbows into his gut, pushing him away.

“Stop being so possessive and go and get the salve, please”.

Remus playfully rolls his eyes and then leans in close, whispering into your ear, “I’ll get rid of the ones on your neck and knee, but the ones under the clothes are staying”.

He didn’t even give you time to answer before he walked off, and you were feeling warm under the skin for an entirely different reason now as you thought about walking around all day with all his marks over your body. Maybe you would keep a few, you decided, especially when you get to see him riled up like last night.

[thewulf]

Escapism || Azriel

Summary: Request -can you make an azriel x night court reader fanfic request? I was listening the song escapism by raye and this just kinda came to me! It's kinda unhinged so you can change whatever if you choose to write it. Y/N and Lucien have been together for like 100+ years but then Elain Archeron comes along and they are mates so lucien begrudgingly breaks up with Reader... Read Rest Here

A/N: This one is sad but gets sweet towards the end. Reader is in her feelings!

Pairing: Azriel x Female Reader (Night Court Reader)

Word Count: 6.1k +

TW: Drunkeness, reader being mean, some physical altercations

Your relationship with Lucien had always felt destined. Willing it to be woven by the threads of fate and bound by centuries of love and laughter. For over a hundred years, you and Lucien had built a life that straddled the boundary between the Autumn Court and the Night Court, which you called home. It was a life full of compromises and sacrifices, but every moment was a testament to the depth of your affection for each other.

But fate had a funny way of not being so destined. Elain Archeron stepped into the picture. Her very presence unraveling the future you had envisioned. When Lucien revealed that Elain was his mate the foundation of your world crumbled. This wasn’t just about losing a lover. It was about the rending of a bond you believed was unbreakable. Lucien’s voice trembled with conflict as he confessed the truth. His amber eyes reflecting a pain that echoed your own. He didn’t want to leave you, but the mating bond was not something either of you could fight. It was powerful, demanding, and absolute. It was destiny.

Amidst your heartbreak a more piercing pain emerged when you discovered that your friends—Rhysand, Feyre, Cassian, and even Nesta—had known about Elain and her bond with Lucien before you did. Half of the Inner Circle knew, and the other half was excluded. Amren, Mor, you and Azriel were the ones left in the dark. They had kept it a secret hoping to protect you from the inevitable heartache. Yet this revelation only deepened your sense of betrayal. How could they, the ones you considered family, keep you in the dark about something that would shatter your life?

The night you found out was an uncomfortable one. You weren't usually one for confrontation, but the rage that built up inside you was ready to explode. As you sat among Rhysand, Feyre, Cassian, and Nesta in the quiet, imposing space of the House of Wind the air felt thick with tension. They began to explain, voices low and fraught with anxiety. They each detailed how they had known about Elain and Lucien’s mate bond for months. Their words were meant to be comforting but were instead filled with reasons and justifications about protecting you from heartache, sparing your feelings until they absolutely had to share the truth.

Sitting across from them in the quietude of the House of Wind you couldn’t hold back the surge of anger and disappointment that welled up inside you. "How could you?" you demanded, your voice quivering not just with sorrow, but with indignation. "You all knew. For months, you knew, and not one of you thought to warn me?"

Rhysand had a somber expression. He was the first to respond. "We struggled with whether to tell you," he admitted. His usual confidence replaced by a hesitancy that did little to quell your growing resentment. "The last thing we wanted was to see you hurt."

"And yet, here I am. Hurt all the same," you shot back. The pain sharp in your voice. "Hurt and betrayed. You chose to protect me from heartache but instead you ensured it."

Feyre reached out with her hand tentative and unsure. "We thought we were doing the right thing. We thought it might not happen. That maybe the bond wouldn’t take hold right away and..."

"And what?" you interrupted ripping your hand away from her touch. "That I’d what? Be spared the pain? Look at me, Feyre. Do I look spared to you?" Your voice was sharp. Sharper than you’d ever spoken to any of them before.

Cassian who was usually the one to lighten the mood sat unusually quiet. His usual bravado nowhere in sight. Nesta had her jaw set, her eyes revealing a turmoil that mirrored your own. It was a rare glimpse into her often-guarded emotions.

"It was never about doubting your strength," Cassian finally said, his voice low. "It was about giving you happiness for as long as we could."

"Happiness built on a lie?" you asked. The irony was bitter on your tongue. "Is that what our friendship is about? Lies?"

The room fell silent, the tension palpable. Each of them struggled with their choices, now clearly regretting the pain those choices had caused. It was evident in their downcast eyes and the slump of their shoulders. It was a shared burden yet unequally felt.

"I'm not just some fragile piece of glass," you continued. Your anger only fueled by their silence. "I deserved to know, to make my own choices. To prepare, or... to say goodbye on my own terms."

The conversation that followed was a painful unraveling of trust and intent. As they each tried to explain, to justify, you realized that this wound would take time to heal. Perhaps what stung the most was the realization that their intentions had robbed you of your agency. Leaving you to a mere spectator in your own life. They spoke of protection. Of sparing you pain. Each explanation threading through the air with the weight of unspoken truths now laid bare. Their voices blended into a cacophony of excuses, each one fueling the fire of your anger and hurt further.

Rhysand’s voice held a note of desperation as he tried once more to explain, "We only wanted—"

"Would you just shut up! All of you!" you erupted cutting him off mid-sentence. Your voice, resolute, sliced through the room. "I don't want to hear it. Nothing you can do or say will make this right.” The room went deathly silent. The gravity of your words hanging heavily between you. Their faces were etched with regret and shock at your outburst. It was a stark reminder of the deep rift that had formed within your group.

You stood abruptly. The chair scraping sharply against the floor. "I can’t be here," you stated flatly. Your voice colder now, resolved. Without waiting for a response, you turned and walked away, each step echoing your departure.

You needed space. Needed air to breathe away from the stifling atmosphere of justifications and apologies. You decided to go to Mor’s place. She too hadn’t known about Elain and Lucien. She hadn’t been part of the deceit that had upended your world. As you left the House of Wind the open sky above seemed to offer the first breath of true freedom since the revelation had shattered your peace.

The walk to Mor’s was quiet. The streets of Velaris holding a serene calm that contrasted sharply with the storm inside you. Reaching her house, you knocked briskly, and she opened the door with a surprised, yet immediately concerned expression.

"Can I stay here for a bit?" you asked without preamble. The weariness in your voice more pronounced now that you were away from the others.

"Of course," Mor responded instantly before stepping aside to let you in. Her eyes searching yours for the pain she was quick to sense. "Whatever you need."

As you stepped into the refuge Mor offered you felt a slight unclenching in your chest. A small relief in the acceptance of a friend untouched by the deceit that had marred your trust in others. You hoped to find the space to heal. To gather the scattered pieces of your heart and perhaps, in time, to forgive. But for now, you simply needed the quiet understanding of someone who had been kept in the dark as much as you had.

Compounding your agony was the necessity to leave the Autumn Court where you had spent half your time with Lucien. You had to come home completely now, full-time to the Night Court. Each step away from the Autumn lands was a reminder of the isolation waiting for you back home. Away from the life and love you had known. The Night Court felt more oppressive than ever. It was supposed to be your sanctuary but now it only served as a cage. It was trapping you with your memories and your pain.

Despite the profound sense of betrayal and the sharp sting of heartache that pervaded your days you chose to stay because Velaris was still home. It was here among the winding streets, the starlit skies, and the vibrant buzz of the Night Court that you had grown, loved, and dreamed. Leaving would mean abandoning not just the place but the fragments of yourself that still clung to the hopes and dreams you’d nurtured here. The thought of leaving Azriel, the one constant who understood your pain without needing words, whose silent strength had become your sanctuary, felt like severing the last thread of stability you possessed. In the depths of your turmoil, Velaris, with all its darkness and lights, remained a place where healing seemed possible. Where the pieces of your broken heart might someday mend.

You withdrew into yourself. Your nights consumed by reckless escapades and endless drinking. You shunned daylight, avoided responsibilities, and ignored the worried glances of your friends. Azriel, who had always been a silent sentinel in your life watched from afar. His shadowed gaze filled with concern that you were too lost in your grief to notice.

This spiral of despair drew you deeper into the depths of the Night Court where you sought oblivion in the bottom of a glass. You hoped and prayed it might wash away the ache in your soul. Your heart felt like a hollow shell, beaten, and bruised by betrayal and loss. You had to wonder if you’d ever find your way back to the light.

As the days bled into nights your world narrowed to the dim corners of taverns and the bitter burn of liquor. Training sessions were skipped, duties neglected. Each glass raised was an attempt to erase the sting of wasted years. You had given a century of your life to Lucien, woven dreams and plans tightly around a love you believed was mutual. Only to find it undone by a destiny that held no space for you. You couldn’t shake the feeling that your love had been a placeholder until his true mate appeared.

You felt like a fool, a pawn in the grand scheme of their secrets and politics. This revelation forced you into isolation. You could hardly stand to look at the people that left you in the dark. Let alone speak to them. Only Mor and Azriel became your solace. Mor who had also been kept out of the loop shared in your feelings of betrayal understanding the deep cut of being excluded by those you loved. Azriel, too, had been kept in the dark, his complicated feelings for Elain used against him to justify the secrecy. You found it cruel. A manipulation of his unspoken affections that only deepened your trust in him, knowing that he, too, had been a victim of their concealments.

Azriel watched over you with a quiet intensity. His shadows whispering of your pain in ways words never could. He knew the depth of your heartbreak having borne his own silent loves and losses. From the shadowed corners of the room, he observed your self-destructive spiral with a growing sense of desperation. There was an understanding in his eyes, a shared recognition of love unreturned that made him reach out to you despite your withdrawal.

Your interactions with Azriel became the few moments of genuine connection in your days. He didn’t push you to speak or to return to the life you’d left behind. Instead, he simply shared your space. Offering you a silent solidarity. His presence was your calm. And in his eyes you found the empathy you’d been denied by so many others. Yet, even this comfort was tinged with the bitter knowledge that it was borne from shared pain. Something created from the fragments of your broken hearts.

On one particularly rough evening, feeling the dull ache of wine coursing through your veins, you sought the familiarity of the library. It was a place that once offered solace, but now it felt like navigating an once beloved yet distant landscape.

Staggering slightly, you found yourself pushing open the heavy door of the library. The scent of old books and ink momentarily grounding you. Inside Mor was tucked into her favorite nook surrounded by a mountain of scrolls and books. Her presence immediately brought a smile to your face and without hesitation you blurted out, "Mor! My girl, let's go to Rita's." Your voice wavered with a mixture of forced cheerfulness and palpable pain betraying your already intoxicated state.

As you made this impromptu invitation you were acutely aware of Rhys, Cassian, and Azriel gathered in a solemn cluster near the grand oak table that dominated the room. Their conversation was likely heavy with undisclosed burdens. They paused abruptly as they noticed your entrance. The library usually a sanctuary of whispered lore and hushed dialogues felt oppressively silent as their eyes fixed on you.

With a deliberate effort to mask your pain with a veneer of cheerfulness you ignored Rhys and Cassian completely. Instead directing your gaze to where Azriel stood, his figure cloaked in customary shadows. "Hi, Shadowsinger!" you exclaimed. Your tone lighter than your heart felt. It was easier to pretend. To keep up the facade of resilience than to acknowledge the jagged pieces of your heart.

Mor quickly stood, catching the tail end of your forced merriment. Her eyes flickered with a mix of concern and understanding. She exchanged a look with the others. Her expression pleading for them to somehow mend the chasm that had opened between you all. But when she saw you purposefully ignoring Rhys and Cassian, her shoulders slumped in resignation. Recognizing the depth of your pain and your current incapacity for forgiveness.

She packed up her belongings. Her movements deliberate. "You're going one way or another, aren't you?" she asked you. Her voice was filled with a sorrow that mirrored your own. It wasn't a question, but a statement. A knowing of the inevitable path the night would take.

"Yes. I need to not think… just for a little while," you replied. Your own smile faltering as the false cheer began to crumble under the weight of your true feelings.

Rhys and Cassian exchanged a glance with a mix of frustration and regret marring their features. They understood that their attempts at reconciliation would be futile this evening. Azriel stood silent and observant. He met your gaze with an intensity that spoke volumes. He nodded slightly. A promise that he would keep you safe even if from a distance.

Even as you grappled with your feelings of betrayal and heartache Azriel had already found it within himself to forgive Rhys and Cass for keeping the truth from both of you. His capacity for understanding their motives. Flawed as they were by their protective instincts, allowed him to see past the pain they had inadvertently caused. Azriel recognized that their actions stemmed from a deep-seated desire to shield both him and you from the inevitable pain of Lucien’s bond with Elain.

You, however, found forgiveness not so easily granted. Your feelings of betrayal were compounded by the thought that your closest friends had decided your fate without your input.  Treating you more like a fragile object to be protected rather than a person capable of facing harsh truths. While Azriel had moved towards reconciliation you remained rightfully stubborn wrestling with a wound too fresh to close

With Mor in tow, you left the library. The heavy silence settling back among the shelves after your departure. Azriel followed discreetly. A shadow among shadows. His concern a tangible cloak around him as he watched you attempt to drown your sorrows under the guise of revelry at Rita’s. The night stretched before you. It was filled with the echoes of what could have been and the sharp sting of what was now your reality.

At Rita’s the ambiance had devolved into a haze for you. Each drink an attempt to erase the sharp edges of your reality. The buzz of the crowd and the clink of glasses were a distant backdrop to the storm raging inside you. As you reached for another glass your movements were sluggish and unfocused. A stranger slipped beside you, his smile too eager, his intentions unclear. He offered you a drink with a slick insistence that made your skin crawl even through the fog of alcohol.

The moment your fingers grazed the cool surface of the glass Azriel materialized at your side. His movements were a blur. The glass knocked from your grasp and shattering against the hard floor with a resounding crash that sliced through the bar's cacophony. "Enough, Y/N," his voice cut through your stunned silence, low and laced with an urgency that tightened his features.

"Why?!" The word tore from your throat, raw and loud, fueled by the sharp bite of alcohol and a torrent of pain you no longer had the strength to contain. "Why do you care? Just let me drown it all out, Az! Let me forget!" Your words were a mix of accusation and desperation spilling out in a reckless cascade.

Pain flickered across Azriel's face His eyes darkening with concern. "It’s not safe, Y/N. That drink. That male was trying to drug you. I can't—I won't let that happen,” he insisted. His voice firm despite the chaos around you.

Rebellion surged within you, potent and bitter. "Don't do this to me, Azzy!" The nickname was usually a term of endearment but now sounded like a rebuke, heavy with your anguish. "You can't save me from this. Let me have this!"

Your attempt to pull away was futile against his strength. Azriel’s eyes scanned the crowd one last time giving more a quick nod, his decision made in the span of a heartbeat when she nodded back. With no other choice as you continued to struggle against him he wrapped his arm securely around your waist and winnowed you both away, the world dissolving into shadows. You reappeared on a deserted hillside just outside the city. The sharp, cold air was a slap against your heated skin. The stark silence a jarring contrast to the noise of Rita’s.

“I can’t watch you destroy yourself, Y/N. I just can’t,” Azriel implored, his voice thick with emotion as he steadied your staggering form.

"Destroy myself?!" you screamed back. The frustration and hurt boiling over. Your hands balled into fists. Your entire body tense with pent-up emotion. "My life is already destroyed, Azriel! I've lost everything. My love, my dreams, my worth! What's there left to destroy?"

In your anguish you lashed out physically, pushing against Azriel's chest with all the force of your despair. He staggered slightly but didn't push back. He of all people understood your need to vent the storm of emotions inside you.

“You haven’t lost everything,” he tried to reassure you but even he knew where your head was at. You weren’t going to listen to him.

"I have!" Your voice broke, raw and quivering with the intensity of your pain. "For a century, I loved him, Az. A century! And for what? To be discarded when his real mate shows up? What does that make me? Just a placeholder? I'm worthless, Az. If he couldn't even love me, who will?"

"No, Y/N, that's not true—" Azriel began but you cut him off again. Your hands pushing against his shoulders trying futilely to move the immovable.

"No, you don't get it!" Tears streamed down your face blurring your vision as you swung a punch. Your fist connecting weakly with his chest. He absorbed the blow with practiced ease. His expression pained more by your words than the physical contact. "Everyone has someone… Feyre has Rhys, Elain has Lucien now... and me? I'm alone. Utterly alone. Who could love someone so... so replaceable?" Your words tumbled out as a cascade of hurt and insecurity forgetting in your pain that Azriel himself had known the sting of unreciprocated feelings.

Azriel caught your wrists gently, stopping your strikes. His gaze intense, a mix of pain and resolve flickering in his eyes. "Y/N, listen to me," he implored. His tone firm yet tender. "I understand more than you know. I've felt that loneliness. That fear of being unloved and replaceable. But you, Y/N, you are not replaceable to me. You’re invaluable. You’re loved deeply by those who truly know you, even if you can't see it right now."

Your resistance faltered with tears spilling over as his words washed over you revealing his own vulnerabilities. You sagged against him, your energy spent, your sobs muffled against his chest. Azriel didn’t just offer comfort. He shared your grief, understanding it from his own unspoken heartaches.

"Because you mean everything to me," he whispered, his voice barely audible over the wind. A confession laden with the weight of his own once-hidden feelings. "And I refuse to let you believe you're anything less than that." In his embrace you felt a sliver of solace pierce the veil of your despair. Perhaps you weren't as alone as you had believed. In the quiet of the night with Azriel, you dared to hope that your heart could find a way to mend.

As your sobs quieted into weary, shuddering breaths on the hillside, Azriel recognized the depth of your exhaustion and despair. With a care born of years spent navigating the shadows, he scooped you up into his arms. His strength a quiet reassurance in the enveloping darkness. You were too lost in your own misery to protest. Your body limp against his chest as he winnowed you both back to the sanctuary of his room.

Once inside Azriel carried you straight to the bathroom. The soft glow of candlelight casting gentle shadows across the walls. Setting you down with the utmost care he turned on the tap letting cool water fill the basin. With a tenderness that contrasted sharply with his usual stoicism, he soaked a soft cloth, wringing it out gently before turning to you.

"You're safe here, Y/N," he murmured. His voice low and soothing as he began to dab at your face. Each gentle touch wiped away streaks of makeup and tears revealing the raw vulnerability beneath. His hands were steady and careful. Moving with a respect that honored your brokenness without making you feel more fragile.

Seeing you so shattered, so utterly surrendered to your grief, stirred a protective tenderness in him. After he had cleaned your face he helped you out of your clothes and into his own. Each movement was respectful and patient. His eyes averted to give you privacy even in your despondent state. He chose a soft shirt and loose pants. Clothes that would comfort rather than constrict. When you were dressed he guided you to his bed with his arm around your waist both a support and a shield. The world seemed to quiet as he tucked you under the covers.

You lay there, a small, fragile form in the vastness of his bed with your eyes staring blankly at the shadowed ceiling. Azriel hesitated, watching you with a mix of concern and a poignant ache to ease your pain. Unable to bear the distance, he lay down beside you. His body a careful line of warmth at your side.

As you lay next to Azriel his presence enveloped you in a tenderness you hadn't fully seen before. The night around you was quiet, the only sound the gentle rustle of the wind outside and your own unsteady breaths. Azriel's room was usually a place of solitude and shadows. It felt different now. Warmer, filled with a quiet strength and a palpable gentleness that radiated from him.

"Let it all out, Y/N," he whispered next to you. His voice was a soft command in the darkness, soothing and deep. His hand found yours under the blankets, his fingers intertwining with yours. You felt a sob rise again. The emotions overwhelming.

He didn't shush you or tell you to be strong. Instead, he squeezed your hand tighter. His grip a lifeline in the turmoil you felt. His presence was a vow of steadfastness. A promise not spoken but felt deeply.

Lying beside him, you realized you had never seen Azriel so openly gentle and caring. His usual reserve and cool demeanor were replaced by an earnest tenderness. It was as if the night had peeled back a layer of his persona revealing the depth of his empathy and the true extent of his kindness. This wasn't the Spy Master known to most. The one that was cold and calculating, always in the background. This was Azriel as only someone he truly cared for might see him. His kindness wasn't just an act of comfort. It was a testament to his genuine concern for you. To love you when you felt most unlovable. To be there in every low and hold you through every shadow.

"I'm not going anywhere," Azriel continued, his voice barely above a whisper. "You are loved, deeply. Even when it feels like you're alone. You are important to me. More than you could possibly know."

With Azriel's words wrapping around you like a gentle embrace you allowed yourself to believe, if only for a moment, that you might one day feel whole again. His kindness, his unwavering support reminded you that even in your most broken moments you were not alone.

Azriel didn't rush you or demand that you compose yourself. Instead, he simply held your hand throughout letting the quiet solidarity of his presence anchor you back from the tempest of your grief. As the emotional exhaustion of the day's events caught up with you, your eyelids grew heavy with the weight of sleep tugging them down.

With Azriel's fingers interlaced with yours and his calm breathing next to you, a profound fatigue began to blanket your senses. It was the kind of tiredness that came from having wept thoroughly and being in the presence of someone who demanded nothing of you but to be yourself. Slowly, the room around you seemed to fade away as you drifted into sleep. The echoes of your turmoil quieting into silence under the protective watch of the Shadowsinger.

As the first rays of dawn began to filter through the curtains you stirred, slowly emerging from the restless grasp of sleep. Your body felt heavy. Each movement laden with the remnants of last night’s despair. As you shifted, trying to orient yourself, you realized you were entangled with Azriel. His arms loosely draped around you, his body a protective barrier against the chill of the morning.

Opening your eyes fully, you met his gaze—alert, intense, yet filled with a softness that was reserved only for moments like this. He had been watching you. His eyes tracing the lines of worry and sadness that had settled on your face even in sleep.

The memory of last night's breakdown. The raw pain, the tears, the desperate words, rushed back in vivid clarity. You were suddenly mortified. The intensity of your vulnerability making you feel exposed and small. You tried to pull away, intending to escape the intimacy and your own mortification. But Azriel’s arms tightened instead, gently but firmly keeping you in place. You faced him, cheeks burning, and your words stumbled out in a flustered rush.

"Az, I... I'm just so—sorry," you stammered as if the words tripping over each other. "For hitting you, and—everything. I wasn’t... I shouldn’t have..."

He was quiet for a moment. His gaze steady and understanding. When he finally spoke, his voice was low and calm, cutting through your babble of apologies with effortless precision. "No apologies," he said simply. His eyes locked on yours conveying depth beyond words. "It’s okay."

"But I lost control, and I—," you tried again. Your voice a tangled whisper of regret and embarrassment.

Azriel gently shushed you with a slight shake of his head. "You needed to let out," His tone left no room for argument. "I’m here. That’s what matters."

Your attempts to articulate the mess of emotions felt cumbersome and inadequate compared to his succinct reassurance. You swallowed hard. Your next breath shaky as you tried to reconcile the kindness in his actions with the turmoil you felt inside. The warmth of his embrace, the quiet strength in his few words, slowly coaxed the walls around your heart to lower. His acceptance was simple and unwavering. It granted you the space to be vulnerable without the burden of judgment.

"You're here," you spoke softly. A statement rather than a question. You allowed yourself to lean back against him, finding a measure of peace in the security his presence offered. In the quiet that followed his steady breathing became a reassuring rhythm in the soft light of dawn, anchoring you amidst the remnants of last night’s storm.

As you settled deeper into Azriel's embrace, comforted by the warmth of his body and the protective enclosure of his wings around you profound sense of security enveloped you. His wings isolated you from the chaos of the world and allowed the weight of your troubles to recede momentarily.

Within this intimate cocoon Azriel's hands gently soothed you, tracing calming patterns along your back and occasionally running his fingers through your hair easing away the knots of both stress and sadness. This gentle touch, combined with the protective embrace of his wings, invited a deeper relaxation and a fleeting peace.

"You're safe here," Azriel whispered. His voice a soft rumble that was both reassuring and grounding. "You will always be safe with me."

His words were simple yet deeply meaningful. They comforted you, encouraging a slow, steadying breath as each word seemed to ease a little more of your turmoil. Surrounded by his presence the room no longer felt like just a physical space but a sanctuary against all your fears and uncertainties.

As Azriel offered a rare comfort his mind was awash with thoughts and feelings for you. He had always admired your strength, your grace, and the kindness that seemed to illuminate your every action. Even when you were with Lucien he had noticed how your presence could soften the hardest of hearts and brighten the darkest corners. His feelings had been kept hidden. A secret shadowed beneath his stoic exterior as you had seemed unreachably intertwined with someone else.

Azriel's interest in Elain initially served as a safe distraction from confronting the deeper, more intense feelings he had for you. Now with the situation having changed and the possibility of being more than just friends emerging. He realized that his feelings for Elain had been a way to guard his heart against the more daunting prospect of a deeper connection with you. Recognizing this, Azriel was determined to be patient. He understood the importance of timing and your need to heal. He knew that any possibility of exploring something deeper with you would require careful consideration and respect for your emotional state. Thus, he was prepared to wait. He would offer his support and presence as you navigated your path to recovery, hoping that when you were ready, he might have a chance to express his true feelings.

In this quiet moment as dawn's light began to seep through the curtains, Azriel made a promise to himself for you. He would be there for you not just as a protector or a friend, but as someone who loved you deeply. Even if that love must remain unspoken for now. He would help you heal, support you in finding yourself again, and offer his love silently, unwaveringly, during the times you found it hardest to love yourself.

"Whatever comes next, I'm here. We'll face it together," he murmured. His voice a soft echo in the quiet room. This promise was not just a commitment to support you through your healing but a silent acknowledgment of his hopes for the future. A future where, when you were ready, he might share his heart openly with you. For now, though Azriel would be your steadfast shadow, a silent guard to you with a love profound yet patient. Waiting for the moment when your heart could welcome the depth of his.

As the morning stretched lazily into afternoon, the quietude of Azriel's room was punctuated only by the soft, rhythmic breathing of you resting against him. The previous turmoil had ebbed away leaving a calm that hadn't been felt in a long while. In this peaceful interlude you slipped back into a deep, restorative sleep, cradled by the warmth of Azriel and the secure embrace of his wings.

While you slept Azriel carefully extricated himself to prepare a simple yet thoughtful meal. He moved quietly, his shadows flitting about, almost as if they were checking on you. Ensuring that your slumber was undisturbed. He returned with a plate bearing a light lunch.

As the soft light of the afternoon filtered through the curtains you slowly awoke from the deep, restful sleep. You had been vaguely aware, even in slumber, of their comforting presence. Something that went beyond Azriel's physical proximity. It was his shadows, those silent watchers that typically hovered at the fringes, manifesting his will, and echoing his moods.

These shadows which normally adhered to Azriel’s strict commands with unwavering discipline, had over time, subtly changed their behavior around you. It started with small gestures—shifting slightly to cloak you in warmth when a cool draft swept through the room, or playfully fluttering around when your spirits were low, trying to elicit a smile. Gradually they had begun to act almost independently when it came to you. They were drawn to your innate warmth and light. The same qualities that Azriel himself cherished deeply in you.

As you stirred awake, stretching and yawning, the shadows seemed to mimic the morning’s embrace. Azriel watched from beside you with a slight smile playing on his lips as his shadows caressed your arms and legs. They were reluctant to withdraw their gentle touch even as you became more alert. He made a subtle gesture, a silent command for them to give you some space, expecting immediate compliance as always.

To his surprise and slight amusement, the shadows hesitated. They lingered around you. Their formless caresses a tender contradiction to their usual stark obedience. When you noticed their reluctance to leave you couldn’t help but to giggle. The shadows seemed to flutter with a visible delight, moving closer as if encouraged by your laughter.

"It’s okay, Az," you said. Smiling at the unusual scene. "I don't mind them, really. I actually quite like them."

At your words the shadows almost appeared to swoon, swirling around you with what could only be described as affectionate enthusiasm. Azriel watched this with a raised eyebrow and an ever-widening smile, clearly amused by their outright defiance when it came to you.

"They're not usually this defiant... or affectionate," Azriel remarked. His voice tinged with both bemusement and a hint of pride. "Seems they've taken quite a liking to you."

You watched the shadows swirl around with a playful grace. Their cool touch leaving a trail of goosebumps on your skin. Smiling, you responded, "The feeling's mutual." At your words, one of the shadows playfully swooped up mimicking a kiss on your cheek.

The whimsical gesture drew another giggle from you, a sound so light and joyful that it seemed to brighten the entire room. Azriel watched you with a deep warmth filling his heart as your laughter echoed softly. The sound so rarely heard in your despair was so full of life and free from the burdens you had been carrying, It was a melody he hadn't realized he'd been longing to hear. It reminded him of the resilience and beauty within you, qualities he had always admired now shimmering through even in your laughter.

Azriel’s gaze softened as he watched you interact with his shadows. The corners of his eyes crinkling with genuine delight. It was rare for him to see his shadows disobey but in this instance he found the situation endearing rather than concerning. The shadows, so attuned to his deepest feelings perhaps recognized the special place you held in his heart and chose to express their fondness in the only way they knew how.

As you continued to enjoy the playful affection from the shadows, Azriel leaned back, content to observe the bond forming between you and parts of his own essence. This moment, light-hearted and filled with laughter marked a significant turn in your relationship. It showed not only his own deepening feelings but also the unique acceptance of his shadows, making you a cherished presence in both his world and theirs.

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[yrqrnc]

. . . hanging on the line with someone, knowing that you’re not friends but nothing more at the same time is tough, but bearable. until it all finally gets to you.

“are we friends?”

you almost regret the words the moment they leave your lips.

your heart demands an answer right here and now, but your head screams at you for letting your impulsion take over.

what if this one question ruins everything that you barely have?

your heart is thumping way too loudly against your chest, and you feel your hands get clammy and sweaty, and somewhere within, you start trembling. you look up to find mark’s eyes, hindered with surprise, already staring at you blankly.

they say eyes are the windows to one’s heart. and maybe that is true, but you’d never know. standing just a few inches away from you here was mark, looking right at you, and you could see his eyes so very clearly, but somehow still, you couldn’t break past the confusion, like a barrier, painted in his eyes.

“what?”

his voice is coarse, and a little cracked, as if he’d lost it for a moment here and had to choke it out, as he finally speaks. he doesn’t move, barely blinks, and neither does he utter a word more. He simply stares into your eyes with a silence that steadily creeps around you two eerily, and it makes you feel suffocated.

was he trying to see past your eyes too?

“us. are we friends?”

the same question, a bolder voice, but the same shaking hands and heart that belonged to a body in whose mind, a world of thoughts and doubts was crashing.

he’s quite for another few seconds, but he answers this time.

“i mean, of course, yeah. yeah. we’re friends. we hang out all the time.”

your gaze hasn’t shifted from him since the moment you held it, perhaps because you’re scared that if you look away once, you’ll never find the guts to look back up to him in this moment right now. but you’re looking at him, and so you see how his eyebrows furrow and how he scans your face with such innocence and confusion that it almost tugs at your heartstrings.

had it been any other day, your heart would have fluttered and you’d have found him intolerably cute, but right now, your chest only felt tighter at his oblivious response. of course, he says?

“you know that’s not what i meant, mark.” you think your tone comes out a bit more stern and harsh than you had meant for it to sound. but that was only the reflection from the grip you had to keep on yourself to face this situation that you had feared for quite long now.

you had thought everything would go just fine the way it was going, and that maybe there was no need at all to determine what this relationship between you and mark was. maybe a label would only be a burden. maybe being something in between the lines that no one read aloud would bring the best outcome, and maybe, peace would only be maintained that way.

but you were tired of it. it was painful, and exhausting, and everything you couldn’t bear for a moment longer.

the pretence. the blurred lines. the confusion. the “not something, not nothing”. you needed the clarity.

loving someone hurts.

it hurts like shit. so when it came to mark, too, it hurt. you knew that, and you’d accepted it too. but if you were going to be hurt either way – whether you stayed with him as a friend, or something more, something closer – then, might as well hurt over something that was, you know?

something concrete. something that had a name, and a face, and was there. real. not something that no one said out loud, like this thing you and mark had going on. god knows how long you’d have been able to keep this up.

“i don’t know what you mean, y/n. i need you to be more clear with what’s going on in your head.” he retorts with an equal amount of roughness in his tone, and this certain certainty that he has as if he truly cannot notice anything wrong sets off something in you.

“we don’t act like friends!” you voice shifts in pitch, and your breaths turn quicker, shakier.

“what are you saying?”

“friends don’t write love songs for each other, they don’t go on dates to dog cafés together and hold hands through the entire conversation, they don’t hug each other and then refuse to let go for just a while longer, they don’t make bucket-lists filled with romantic ideas and they definitely don’t almost kiss every time they get a little too close. friends don’t do that, mark. and we do.”

it feels like letting yourself fall off the edge of something you were too scared to leave after hanging there and being stuck since a long while.

the scattered thoughts in your mind that grew denser and denser with each passing moment that you spent with mark and stole away your sleep at night were finally out there in the open, spilled messily all over both of you and the bond that tied you.

there’s a raging war in your head, but somehow the world grew so quiet.

mark replies to your outburst in riddles of silence, and you didn’t speak that language. you didn’t want to. but what more was there to say from your side? what better words could you throw out, what better things could you do? what more?

there’s this swirl of emotions that stir up inside you, and bleed to every corner of your body. from your chest, to your stomach, to your feet. a bitter taste of grey and red falls onto your tongue that you suddenly cannot swallow, and your eyes turn hazy with layers of tears and hurt and disappointment and embarrassment.

and it’s all enough for you to tighten your grip on the suddenly heavy bag that’s slinging on your shoulders, and you turn on your feet and stride away from him; you’re not sure if it’s just him you’re leaving behind. with mark had always come a thousand other things that mattered to you.

but you’re not thinking of any of that right now, except the fact that, as you walk away from it all...

he doesn’t try to stop you.

[starryknight-tarot]

𝓦𝓱𝓸 𝓪𝓻𝓮 𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓯𝓾𝓽𝓾𝓻𝓮 𝓯𝓻𝓲𝓮𝓷𝓭𝓼?

pile 1 -- > pile 2 pile 3 -- > pile 4

my masterlist<3 . paid readings

Hello beautiful souls✨ Today we will be looking into what kind of people your future friends are and maybe a little more into your dynamic together. Remember to meditate, take a deep breath, and pick whatever pile calls to you the most. My readings are meant for everyone, no matter what sexuality or identity you are. Since this is a general reading, make sure to take what resonates and leave what doesn't. Credit to @benkeibear for the divider and @thuminnoo on instagram.

Pile 1 Cards: Temperance, Three of Swords, Six of Swords, Strength, Three of Pentacles, Nine of Wands, Page of Pentacles, Ace of Cups rx Back of the Deck: Five of Pentacles

The energy for this pile has a lot of layers to it. While I was shuffling, I heard the word "first" pretty clearly, so your future friends might be the first time you can really call someone a friend or simply your first time having friends at all . I feel like all of your future friends are going to have very big personalities. If you are an introvert, you are going to feel like you were adopted by a bunch of extroverts. I am actually getting Mean Girls vibes from this pile, like in a school setting, all your friends would be the talk of the school. The cool kids so to speak lol. And the energy you are going to feel with them also feels pretty complicated. In friendships, you can have good days where everyone is getting along and having fun, and then other day when things can feel more awkward and even a little uncomfortable, your friend group isn't going to be safe from this. Although, you may feel like you may feel like you don't truly fit in with them. I am hearing "Imposter Syndrome" so with your future friends, you may feel like you don't deserve to be around them. But I am getting that your future friends REALLY don't want you to feel this way. In fact, I feel like there may be a moment in your friendship where all this doubt in yourself comes to the surface and you and your friends have a deep conversation about. I am getting for some of you that really don't resonate with this self doubt energy, it might be the other way around where one of your future friends isn't too confident in their friendship with you. Also, no matter what gender you identify as, your future friends are going to help you embrace your feminine energy. For some specific groups of yall, your friends are going to spark your interest in makeup. Some of yall are going to be making new friends at the gym or on a run, something physical. Like I am seeing the visual of someone running a marathon and chatting it up with the person next to them. I think for my pile 1's, yall need to start having a clear idea of what you want and need in a friend. Because if you just let anyone that shows you kindness, you might end up in a distasteful situation. If you don't feel like you and another person have a connection, it's time to cut ties with that person. But with the Page of Pentacles, I feel like you guys will actually find friends that will feel like manifested them into existence. If you have a manifestation journal, it may help to dedicate a page for qualities you want in a friend and spirit is saying that this will bring you closer to these friends. I also keep hearing "They aren't perfect" so even if you are manifesting them, they may not be the perfect person but they are going to be there for you. Also one last message for my introverts, you may want to try and put yourself out there to find friends.

Advice Cards:

Release what you do not need. Let go of some extraneous aspects of your life

Spend some time in stillness to reflect

Be adventurous. It's time to go for it!

A powerful dream will guide you

Your heart is a center of institute intelligence. Listen to it!

You are greater than your story

Channeled Songs: (I laughed when I got Please Me but some of yall may have a message there lol)

Pile 2 Cards: Ace of Swords, Nine of Wands rx, King of Swords, The Tower rx, Ten of Wands rx, The Fool, The Emperor, Two of Pentacles Back of the Deck: Three of Swords

So I was picking up a few different types of energies for this pile, I feel like a lot of people may pick this pile so there is a lot of different people involved or each one of your friends is going to be very different personalities, take it how it resonates. One of the first things I was picking up was that your friends are gonna be labeled as the "weird kids" lol. I don't mean that in a bad way at all, they just might be the type to be labeled as nerds or dorks or whatever but they are just have really silly energy. Specifically, someone in your group is gonna be quite eccentric and unique but I think you will love that about them. This eccentric friend has lovely energy. I keep hearing ENFP or they may might just be really into MBTI. I am also picking up on someone that has a really regal vibe to them? Maybe, they feel like they were royalty in their past life or they could come from wealth. But I am getting such a sweet vibe from this person. This friend group seems like a bunch of softies and I am living for it. I was also picking up that you might have to go through some really shitty friends before you get to the friends that we are currently looking into. Spirit said "those people were never truly your friends" so some people who you thought were your friends may actually be pieces of shit and never even truly saw you as a friend. I am hearing for someone of you that these might be your current friends, of course that isn't going to be for everyone but you are seeing some signs from your current friends that they don't truly respect you as a person, or that they are leave you out of stuff, those people aren't your friends. But with the Fool, I feel like you guys are really going to start a new journey in terms of friends so there are going to be quite a few people who are coming into your life. I heard "They are going to turn your life upside down" so you may start seeing the world differently after meeting them. I do feel like you and your future friends may not always see eye to eye and may have a falling out, I'm not too sure why, it seems like a lot of misunderstandings may happen between yall. These misunderstand may cause yall to have prolonged times apart for a little while. But I do think you will come back together. I'm also not too sure this energy is for everyone or perhaps that keeping this message in mind may cause these misunderstands to be avoided. Spirit is saying "Keep an open mind" so you may need to just hear each other. I am also getting for this pile that your group of friends may be really big, like a lot of people that are gonna hang around you.

Advice Cards:

Hold your life from a sacred viewpoint. Witness the universal picture

Relax and feel good. You deserve more joy!

Your are greater than your story

Pay attention to your breathing, it's reflecting your life

Reflect on the state and use of your personal energy

You are wiser than you think

You are a natural teacher

Channeled Songs:

Pile 3 Cards: Three of Pentacles, Queen of Pentacles, Ace of Wands, The Emperor rx, Six of Pentacles rx, Ten of Pentacles, The Fool rx, Ten of Swords Back of the Deck: Four of Cups

Excuse me for my language, but I fucking love this pile so much, your future friends have top tier energy. These friends might be people from your childhood that you rekindle with or just friends you have known for a while. Actually I am also getting that for some of you, you may meet them very suddenly and become friends very fast in your adult life, but I'm not really getting an in between. For some of you, I feel like you are already around your future friends. They seem to be more of the rebellious vibes, I am hearing Lost Boys energy. Your future friends may be strong activists and are very vocal about what is right and wrong. Your friends seems like the type of people that really stand out in the crowd. Probably for a very specific group of you, I feel like you may meet in an art class or just somewhere surrounded by art. And your future friends are SO creative and have such big imaginations. For some of you, you are going to make a career with these future friends and I am hearing starting a Youtube channel or something like that. Whatever it is, it seems like it will be really successful because of the chemistry you and your friends share. Especially with all the pentacles in this pile, yall might make major bank together. For a lot of you, these friends are going to be your soul family. For some of you, there is going to be someone in your friend group that takes up a sort of mother role and they are going to help heal you through a lot of childhood wounds that you may not have even realized you had. I heard for some of you, they are going to get you out more and get you out of a hermit period for you. There is a very small group of you that I feel like you will very suddenly stop seeing each other or perhaps this friendship will have been going on for years and some of you will want to expand your friendship to other people and not talk as much, I am getting maybe two people. A little larger group of you may just drift part after time and find new friends, but you guys would never forget each other and always hold so much love for each other. Yall story seems like it could be made into a story lol. But even then, I won't let that stop you from enjoying your friends with these people and trying your best to make it last since yall do seem really compatible. For real it's so beautiful I almost want to cry. But there is a group of you that I see growing old together basically. Yall will still be causing trouble till yall's hairs grey and you are chilling in the nursing homes lol.

Advice Cards: Release what you do not need. Let go of some extraneous aspect of your life

Reflect on the state and use of your personal energy

Be aware of your inner messages

A powerful dream will guide you

The key is in the application. Practice!

Spend some time in stillness to reflect

Channeled Songs:

Pile 4 Cards: King of Pentacles, Ten of Cups, Four of Pentacles rx, Five of Swords, Six of Pentacles rx, Nine of Swords, The Tower, The Fool rx Back of the Deck: Six of Wands

This pile is very interesting indeed. So one of the first things I was picking up was that you may marry one of your future friends and it is going to be like "Marrying my best friend" kind of moments. Which is real cute for yall. I was also getting that your friend group might be pretty well off, like they all grew up in a pretty wealthy area or something like that. I am kind of picking up on those people that grew up rich but don't really even realize it until you point it out. But they seem like might spoil you a little, take you around to see things you may have never seen without them. I am also hearing some of you may be the rich friend. I am also getting that the way you guys will meet will be through shared struggle. Like I am getting that you and your future friends will go though an experience that not many will have gone through and while you will walk away with a lot of trouble from this experience, you will also walk away with new friendships because not many have gone through what yall have gone through. I am getting that you will have around three or four friends that you are particularly close with. With the mixture of the Tower and the Five of Swords, I feel like you are going to have a big falling out with these people. Although since we have the Six of Wands at the back of the deck, I feel this story will have a very satisfying ending. I just suddenly saw people meeting at a very tropical setting. It could just be the beach but for some of you, this feels like a different country and you will meet up there and it will feel so nice. I am also getting that instead of this falling out energy, your future friends are going to have A LOT of trauma and they may feel like they don't deserve your friendship, something along those lines. Your future friends have very shy energy. They don't seem to trust a lot of people but you managed to gain their trust. Although I feel like one of your friends is very shy and the another is very bold and confident, but even this person seems to have some inner struggles as well. I'm sorry because I feel like there is part of a puzzle that your future friends don't really want to share here. Perhaps your story with them is just something they really want you to experience without any expectations. They seem to have really good intentions with you.

Advice Cards:

Release all attachments that do not serve you

Take a lighter approach and smile about all facets in your life. A smile reflects a heart at peace You are ready to receive your fortune. Be miracle minded!

The key is in the application. Practice! You are intuitively gifted. Trust you guidance

Pay attention to the issue that time plays in your life right now

Channeled Songs:

Thanks for tuning in₊‧.°.⋆🫧•˚₊‧⋆.

[blueaetherr]

past is prologue (onward)

pairing: jude bellingham x fem!reader [she/her]

warning(s): the idea of blue, fic more lengthy than usual, angst?

summary: the one where two disasters realise that things could have been drastically different between them

Sitting out in the back patio Y/N let herself relax on the couch, controlled deep breaths and a hat over her face to block out the late evening sunset. She had done more than enough to warrant a break from everything. From bringing her younger siblings to and from school, to also cooking and cleaning for the afternoon that just came around.

All she wanted to do was indulge in nothing and just rest— that's all she could ask for. Still, it remained so hard to receive when others were out to disrupt her calm.

When the hat was removed from her face she opened her eyes, rubbing the fatigue out of them. Realising who had stolen the hat, she sat up quickly. Her voice came out small and groggy when she began to speak. "Hey! Jobe gave it to me—"

Jude let out a loud laugh, one that stemmed Y/N in her sentence. "And it's not even his. He took it from me." Rounding the couch he took a seat on the other end of the couch, lifting her feet on his lap so he too could be included under the blanket. He chuckled again when she remained unphased by his actions; it had happened way too many times before for her to care, especially knowing that she wouldn't get her way in the end.

Due to being neighbours—whether this was reflected in the interaction or not—the two have known one another since their young days. Only, they weren't friends; instead Y/N was friends with Jobe while Jude was friends with her older brother. Y/N and Jude, on the other hand, were only conditional and slightly familiar. Their friendship (or the lack thereof) failed to exist beyond their families.

So whenever their families came together to share Friday dinners, whenever their families had outings together– times that were meant for happiness and laughter– they could be around one another for so many hours without actually hanging out or conversing. For the sake of their families, the farthest they could and would go together was being friendly and accommodating within reason.

"Why are you even here anyway?" Y/N huffed out a breath. She waved towards the garden, where her older brother, younger siblings and Jobe were playing football together. "There's plenty to do, you know, besides occupying my space." It's not that she didn't want to be around Jude (or maybe that's exactly what it was). It's more that they had spent a lot of time together that day and besides going to bed, she wanted a moment alone to allow herself to dwindle down from the long day she had had.

Leaning his head back Jude wore his hat backwards. "Yeah, it's just— well." He wore a smile, one that was mild yet overtly sarcastic. "I know if I go inside, your mum will start asking me about my love life, and I'm resting for when I go back to Madrid so..."

"Right, right. So then your only remaining option is to follow me around all day?" For two people who didn't identify themselves as friends, they had spent a lot of the current day in each other's spaces. Jude had accompanied Y/N to bring her younger siblings to and from school, he had somewhat helped her to prepare dinner for that afternoon and he had offered to help with the dishes after everyone had finished eating.

"No, of course not," Jude shook his head before pointing to Y/N, "You just find yourself in places where I want to be too."

She took a moment to simply stare at Jude, slightly bothered and dazed at his words before pushing herself further into the couch and sighing deeply which only encouraged Jude to laugh more. Truthfully, she didn't have the energy to debate him. She could definitely win against him but Jude would never view it as such. It was something Jude and her older brother could do without getting exhausted; that was something she would have to leave for them to do with each other.

Letting his laughs falter he decided to give Y/N some peace. Given how her day had gone, especially since he had been with her for most of it, he could admit that she deserved some moment of rest. So he chose to keep to himself.

Or, at least, Jude tried to keep to himself. He tried to remain occupied on his phone, he tried to remain secluded in his mind and thoughts, he tried to keep his eyes solely on those playing football in the garden. So much for prevention yet his eyes eventually wandered back to Y/N. Somehow, they always did.

He wasn't aware of all of the attributes that made up Y/N but one thing was for sure; she was people-orientated. She loved community—creating it, embracing it and contributing to it. Always did she make herself the sender. And whenever she did receive something, she would find a way to send back more. She was selfless and outward, always extending herself to others whether they were in need of something or just in want of her company.

It wasn't hidden knowledge or anything, he saw it well with everyone she interacted with. She never displayed any signs of annoyance when dealing with her younger siblings, always showing them grace when they would ask overwhelming questions that would stump the average person. She had a healthy mix of banter and genuine friendship with her older brother. She got along well with the parents, so much so that he wouldn't be surprised if they viewed her as the pride and joy between the two families.

And of course, there was what she had with Jobe.

"Blues," he whispered before repeating with much more voice, "Blues." When Y/N finally looked away from her phone, he continued, "Jobe calls you that."

She let her eyes drift around before turning to Jude, nodding slowly. "He came up with it, yeah."

Jude tilted his head to the side. "What's that all about?" Suddenly, his curiosity was ignited. He knew that's what only Jobe called Y/N on the regular. Blues had been established as a nickname for years yet Jude had no insight as to what it meant.

"Well..."

"Blue like the oceans and the sky... fairly common yet unique. You are ordinary and extraordinary all at the same time."

A touch of a smile reached her lips at the mention of the memory. There was nothing remarkable about it. It was simple and nice and mundane yet Jobe made it so much more for her, and she would never find herself ever forgetting it. But while it was all simple and nice and mundane, the next thing Jobe had told her was to not tell Jude the meaning behind her nickname. So she had to improvise.

"Blue – it's my favourite colour. But I also like all different shades of blue, hence Blues and not Blue," she explained briefly. A half-truth she told. Blue, indeed, was her favourite colour, that was partially why Jobe found the nickname so fitting for his friend. The lie was that it was his main reason behind the nickname. Instead, her favourite colour being blue was simply just the inspiration.

He hummed, nodding. "I like that, really. I do," Then there it was, his face grew timid with delight towards Y/N. He wasn't mild or sarcastic about it like previously, just genuine. Jude continued to broaden the scope of the conversation, something beyond the norm for the two. "That and what you have with Jobe. It's not hard to tell that you're really good for him."

Jude didn't know everything about Y/N and his brother, Jobe kept their friendship relatively exclusive. But from what Jude saw and from what the two allowed him to see—their pictures together, watching them hang out from afar, their conversations during car rides—he knew that Jobe and Y/N were vibrant, comfortable, and lasting. But above all, they were them. Whatever type of friendship they shared was inconsequential; all they needed to function was for one another to be present and everything else about them would work out perfectly.

"Is that a compliment I'm hearing?" You couldn't see it at first glance; her eyes were low and tired, and her voice stumbled but Y/N meant to be irritating towards Jude. It was rare for her to ever have a victory like this to hang over his head.

Jude leaned his head back against the couch and groaned, placing his hand over his face. It was then he remembered why he rarely ever let her have any sort of win over him— having even the slightest wins against him only built her ego up for when she did win against him. "Can I take it back?"

"Oh, absolutely not," she shook her head and laughed slightly. In that moment, weirdly, she found her body easing. Her shoulders were slacked, and her breaths were moderate and easy. She was relaxed, something she hadn't been able to get a hold of in a minute. "This might be the highlight of my day."

"I'm just saying, yeah," Jude emphasised, his voice slowly overriding her laughter. "What you have with Jobe—with everyone—really has me thinking about what we could have together."

She paused her laughs as her face crunched up. "What?" Y/N would never admit it, but she had been enjoying the conversation with Jude up until now. It made sense to talk about her and Jobe, that was a given. But her and Jude? She didn't see the point of centring a conversation around the two. Besides, she couldn't really imagine having one if there wasn't much to them besides their families' ties to each other.

His eyes widened when he noticed her change of expression. "Not like that—" Jude huffed out a breath, "I mean, like, I wonder what it would've been like if we had become friends, you know, back when we were kids."

While Y/N always rid her thoughts of Jude, he failed to do the same for her. In his own time and place, he thought about her and him. From time to time, Jude did wonder about what it would be like if the two had become friends. About how it would be like if it had been Y/N and Jude instead of Y/N and Jobe. For all the time they spent in the same space but not together, for all the times all the older siblings would go out together but they would never speak a word to one another—what if they actually spent all that time as friends rather than as friendly?

They were weird, awkward and often out of place with each other; that was their dynamic unapologetically. Still, it remained something that Jude wanted to explore more. There wasn't much to them yet he took his time wondering about the endless what-ifs of their relationship. Did they actually amount to something significant beyond their mandatory hellos and goodbyes?

"Yeah, obviously." Y/N narrowed her eyes at Jude for a moment. She failed to understand what he meant by not like that. Nonetheless, she continued. "Well, you never made it appealing to be friends. Still don't too." While there was joke behind her voice, her words upheld common truth.

Even during their earlier years together, there were times when she tried to be friends with Jude. I mean it made sense, seeing how their families quickly grew close to one another. But every time Y/N gave Jude her attention, every time he ever gained her attention, he would only respond with unfunny and dense jokes—something that he exclusively only did to her and no one else. It was because of those memories that Y/N consciously avoided Jude. She just wanted to protect her peace.

Focusing her glance on Jude, she quickly noticed the awkward expression settled on his face and scoffed out a small laugh. Good. And even though he didn't deserve it, Y/N decided that she would try to brighten the mood for a second. "You technically— we should have to be honest."

"Yeah..." Jude nodded absently before pausing. He realised that he actually didn't know what he was agreeing with. "Wait, what are you on about?"

She raised her eyebrows at him. "What— your brother hasn't told you?" From talking with Jude and her conversations with his brother, she knew that Jobe wasn't secretive about his business with Jude. But then again she also knew that he didn't speak about her to Jude either.

Jude looked around in thought before shaking his head. "No. I don't even know what you're talking about."

"Oh. Well, I might as well tell you." Y/N sat up properly before continuing. "Basically, when we'd first moved over here my mum told me to make friends with the neighbours' kids—you and Jobe. She told me your names and ages, and I'm thinking cool I'm going to become friends with the older brother. But by the time I was standing at your front door I'd forgotten who was who." It was then that Jude's eyes flickered with realisation. "... So when your mum answered the door I was too shy to ask who was who. So I just introduced myself, gambled it and said, can Jobe come out to play?"

"Wait—" Again, Jude had to pause before speaking. He didn't want to stumble on his words. "I was your intended friend and not Jobe? Wait. So what were you thinking when you found out you were wrong?"

She shrugged. "Nothing. Jobe told me his age, I thought oh and that was it. I didn't really mind 'cause I found out that we were similar in a lot of ways. Besides, you'd become friends with my brother and literally all you guys did was play FIFA so I didn't stress trying to be friends back then."

His face scrunched up as he placed a hand over his heart. "Ouch."

"I promise. I meant no harm with it," she said rolling her eyes, but it wasn't from annoyance. Instead, it was from unknowingly sharing banter with Jude—an interaction fairly uncommon for the two.

Jude hummed lowly and bit the inside of his cheek, nodding. He didn't want his broadening smile to be so evident. "So you came to my house that day, intending to become my friend?" Truthfully, Jude didn't care that he was being forward, or that he was repeating a question that had already been answered with more than enough clarity. He was excited and shocked and wanted to uncover more where his knowledge previously lacked.

"Yes, Jude," Y/N affirmed, "I came to your house that day intending to become your friend." The statement made Jude beam so hard, showcasing a grin so familiar to Y/N, one that she found herself admiring and hating all at the same time. "It made more sense for me to since we're the same age. But that's not to say that I didn't want to be friends with Jobe 'cause he was younger. I think even if we had become friends, I think me and him would've still become friends. Probably even better than if you and I did."

Jude let his mind wander. All this time he thought that he and Y/N were naturally incompatible in every single way, that she could only have something meaningful and wonderful with his brother, that they were confined to the bounds of their current dynamic. I mean he was right to think so, it pained the two to go beyond their hellos and goodbyes.

But it turns out when you went back far enough—when you returned back to their origins—they were supposed to be friends, to have everything she shared with his brother. After all, she initially had sought out friendship with him. He could've been the one to give her the nickname Blues. They could've been the pair who had a dynamic that was vibrant and comfortable and lasting. He could've been the one to have Polaroids of him and her hanging all around his bedroom. Jobe had unknowingly taken his intended best friend.

"I'm gonna remind him of this every day now," Jude clasped his hands together as he hung his head back, soft laughter escaping into the evening air. "It's only right."

"Be easy on him. He's sensitive like that."

"I don't think he'll mind. Like you said, he shouldn't have been your friend in the first place." There was a curt moment of silence before Jude continued, suggesting, "I take that as a sign for us to become friends. You know, like you had intended."

"Yeah... I don't know if I would want to," Y/N strung out a long breath. Her enjoyment for their discussion was slowly drifting away. Something about it just felt inappropriate and misplaced, like she and Jude shouldn't have been having it in the first place. He was reaching, and all she wanted to do was pull away. "Besides, life didn't end 'cause we aren't. In fact, I think it's thriving just fine."

"I'm just saying, I think we should give it a try—"

"Jude," Y/N said with a blank stare, "No."

Jude paused in his movements. The seriousness in her body language and voice wasn't difficult to catch onto. "No, what?"

She let out a light scoff, shaking her head. "I just don't understand you. Now— now because I give you some revelation about how I did intend to be your friend some years ago that now you want to be friends? I've been trying to be your friend for such a long time and you rejected me every single time. My intention to be your friend didn't just stop after I became friends with your brother. You're some many years too late."

So much feeling, so much pent-up anger and hostility and distrust, and Y/N didn't even realise it until now. At some point, she was having fun with their conversation—it was laid-back and easy-going, something she needed after a long day. But the more she let Jude rant, the more she realised she needed to sober up and quick.

There was something about the way Jude was talking that she couldn't bring herself to like. Discussing the pair like he needed to know that hidden fact to consider being her friend. Talking like the idea of her being friends with Jobe and him was mutually exclusive when in fact, it wasn't. When all of this time Y/N would have liked to be friends with Jude regardless.

They could have been friends. That's what Jude kept mentioning over and over again. Mentioning all these what-if-isms like they were a missed opportunity by the fault of the universe. Though in reality, only Jude was at fault. Y/N had wanted to be friends with Jude for the longest time yet he always managed to push her away over and over and over, until she chose to give in and eventually walk away.

Jude and Y/N weren't friends because of his own mistakes and she didn't like that he was acting ignorant to that.

"So yeah Jude, I'm annoyed at you for that! But I'm also annoyed at myself 'cause somehow I still want to be your friend." Y/N frowned as she felt her anger deflate. The anger was slowly fading, leaving only dismay to settle. "I see you how are with your brother, my brother, the kids, your fans, your teammates—everyone! I only hear good things about you. I only see good things about you and so that's my perspective of you. But you never offer me that perspective of you so clearly I did something wrong, right?"

The way Jude was interested in his brother's friendship with Y/N was the same way she was interested in Jude's relationship with everyone else; weirdly, she wanted a part of it too. He was overly helpful with her mom, a mature young man around her dad, playful with her younger siblings, boyish with her older brother. So many desirable aspects for an individual yet she never witnessed any of it for herself, not even by accident.

So Jude counted Y/N out— made her the odd one out. So much so that there was that one wonder on her mind: what did I ever do for you to act like all I have to extend to you is misery?

Opening his mouth he stumbled on nothing before he found his voice, now small and careful. "Can I tell you something?" There was no pride in it but for once, Jude saw Y/N. For once he saw her vulnerability, her anger and her frustrations—and all directed towards him. She was on edge because of him, and he knew that everybody would be on his case if it came to their attention so he proceeded with caution.

Y/N sat back a bit as she folded her arms. "Can't be anything worse than what you've already told me before."

"Okay, I— uh." Despite the demanding pressure on his shoulders, Jude knew that he had to take his time with his words. He cleared his throat. "Jobe doesn't talk about you two a lot, but he likes to talk about you though still not enough that I would know a lot about you. And when he talks about you he likes to brag about you being friends with him instead of me, kind of suggesting that you know... you've never wanted to be friends with me. So I kinda spent growing up thinking you disliked me."

"I've always wanted to be friends," Jude exhaled the confession, and quite shamelessly. He couldn't afford to lie anymore. A hint of a sad smile surfaced across his lips. "That's why I was excited when you told me that you intended to be friends with me instead of him. That at some point you wanted to be friends with me... and now I know you still do."

For a moment there was discomfiting silence between the two. There was a lot that Jude spoke—a lot of talk that Y/N hadn't previously been aware of. So much talk to continue discussing, so many wonders to be stuck on, so many questions to ask yet she didn't. There was one thing he had said that stuck out to her. "And he still brags to you about me?"

"Yeah," Jude confirmed, "More now than when we were younger."

She cocked her head towards him. "Why though?" Y/N could understand Jobe speaking about her to Jude but to brag? It seemed like a bit of a stretch from what she knew about her friend. Besides, Jude always made it apparent to others that he and Y/N were strictly friendly, so what was there to brag about?

But the thing was, there was something for Jobe to brag about. Jude had the answer; it was clear in his head but he knew he couldn't pronounce it. To acknowledge the answer right now would be misplaced and careless, especially with so much anger and regret going around. So he shifted his gaze away from Y/N, sighing. "I don't— I don't know."

She felt like there was more for him to say, but she had nothing to justify her intuition. She gave Jude a pointed look but his glances indicated I have nothing else to say, so she let to conversation falter. "Okay."

And when the conversation faltered there was only calm and stillness between them, only background noise occupying the time. Familiar and common background noise—excitement and kids' laughter light in the air, footballs hitting football nets with ease, distant chatter and debates among their parents. Still, Jude and Y/N remained in silence.

They had to sit with themselves and with one another for a quick second. For some time there hadn't been much to Jude and Y/N, almost like they were destined to never share any genuine friendship. They never allowed for anything to happen between them, attraction always working against their favours. They weren't friends but simply friendly for the sake of others. 'Cause behind all of that were two individuals who carried so much mal feelings for one another, whether those same feelings could be justified or not.

Jude disliked Y/N just to dislike her, while Y/N disliked Jude because of his dislike towards her—that's what it seemed from the surface.

But in reality, by the fault of each other, their feelings for one another were misguided and narrow. Somewhere in the beginning there had been a misreading of feelings. It started with Jude, continued with Y/N and it ended in their devastation. The devastation in the fact that they could have been something. Maybe not Y/N and Jobe something or Jude and her brother level something, but something much better than what they currently were.

Jude was right to emphasise over and over that they were supposed to be friends. That's what was intended by Y/N and by extension, intended by the stars and the universe. Everything about them was predetermined. Their foundation was there and all they had to do was settle in it. But because Jude had been so guided and moved by Jobe's words, because Jude had made Y/N feel unsure about herself, because Jude and Y/N only held feelings of anger, dislike and distrust towards one another—all misplaced and unwarranted—they were never allowed to develop a true friendship, something beyond just being friendly and cordial.

Fault didn't equally fall on both of them but it was still shared between them.

Soon, Jude returned his gaze back to Y/N. With a kind tone he expressed, "I'm so sorry, Y/N, for everything. I made assumptions and I took it all out on you. I was wrong to make you feel that way for so long over something I thought was right. I'm sorry, really."

Just as Y/N was about to respond, the pair's attention shifted towards the youthful voice calling out to Jude. It was her younger sister who came running towards him in pure excitement and laughter, the emotions only really found in kids. As she settled into his arms Jude and Y/N shared a look—let's hold this conversation for a second—before Jude let his attention solely focus on the young girl in his arms.

He let the young girl drive their conversation. Her eyes were wide from childish amusement, hand gestures offering both realism and exaggeration to her words, the conversation moving faster than the words she was pronouncing. And still, Jude kept up. Exclaiming a wow and really! here and there, finding interest and curiosity in her interests, agreeing with almost every point she made, making her laugh whenever he felt like she lacked some happiness in the slightest, being patient whenever she struggled with her words. In their short time together, Jude was there to encourage her to lift up her voice and speak with liberty.

And for that Y/N was grateful, truly. For always validating her younger sister, for not counting her out over the small mistakes she made. Maybe it was unwise and careless of her but it made Y/N wonder if that would be them soon enough.

Noticing that her younger sister had fallen asleep– who had been so taken by Jude's mumble singing and humming– Y/N took that as an opportunity to resume the conversation. She offered Jude a gentle smile. "Thanks, Jude."

"Yeah, it's fine," he said absently as he pulled the blanket over her sister, making sure she was comfortable curled up in his embrace.

Realising his focus was solely on her sister she let out a small chuckle. "No I mean thank you for the apology." It was then that Jude's attention shifted towards Y/N once again. Her fingers toyed with the blanket as she continued. "I didn't realise I needed it that much." Reserving so much anger and hostility towards Jude for such a long time when those feelings had nowhere to go or to be truly expressed left Y/N drained. Now that they were in the process of moving on (?), for once in her life when it came to Jude, she felt heard and justified in her feelings and thoughts.

"I owed it to you," Jude admitted with ease, his eyes pouring into hers. They were vulnerable and honest. "I owe a lot to you, starting with that apology."

"And I'm sorry too—"

Jude shook his head quickly. "Don't. You don't have to." While the fault was shared between the two he didn't feel like she needed to apologise. Everything wrong about them ultimately traced back to him and his wrongdoings.

Y/N nodded in silent agreement. She wasn't trying to get them back to their previous ways. "Well then," she inhaled softly, "I know you're going back to Madrid tomorrow but I would like to try something, you know, for us? Let's try to give ourselves a real start. The next time you're back, hit me up and we'll see where things go." Y/N curled up more in the blanket, bearing a smile that was nervous yet excited while her voice became smaller and timid. "If that's okay with you."

For some time Y/N and Jude hadn't known rest, between themselves and individually. They were nothing but mismatched feelings—some of that anger and hostility and occasional misplaced humour—and that left them with all but a chance of ever developing something that was intended for them. There had never been anything good about them and for the longest time, it made them inwardly reject what they could have been.

But now forgiving one another, leaving previous feelings behind them, now wholly understanding where their wrongs lay all these years– they wanted to find all that was hidden in between the lines. After all, when you returned to their origins all unfiltered and untouched by their recent problems, the potential for them was there. Y/N always wanted to be friends with Jude and Jude always wanted to be friends with Y/N, a friendship that had been hidden for the longest time yet forever destined to come to fruition.

And for that Jude and Y/N would only choose to look onward, let their past become their prologue. It was objective and set in stone, but they would shape their time after today to be theirs alone.

"Well," Jude tilted his head back, almost like he was in thought. But from the unwavering happiness he was experiencing, far too evident with the animation in his voice, it was clear that he already had his mind made up. "Of course. I would like that a lot."

[togrowoldinv]

Date Night

Natasha Romanoff x Female Reader

A date night with Natasha

Warnings: Smut! 18+ please! Kissing, cursing, car sex, fingering (R receiving), soft and hot times

Note: I was thinking about Natasha as per usual. Enjoy this one!

Natasha Masterlist 1, Natasha Masterlist 2, Natasha Masterlist 3, Main Masterlist

The candles and soft lighting illuminate Natasha’s smile. She looks at you like you’re the only person in the entire world.

The waiter pours her glass of wine and yours before walking away, leaving you and Natasha be. She takes a sip of her drink.

“I’m so glad we’re doing this,” she says once she’s swallowed the sweet liquid.

“Me too,” you agree. “It’s been far too long since we had a date night.”

“Mhm. Do you think the kids are behaving for Yelena?”

“Oh, I’m sure. But is Yelena behaving?” You joke.

Natasha chuckles and says, “Not a chance. That girl is so unpredictable.”

You laugh. The conversation continues to be about your family that you both love so much until Natasha changes the subject.

“I’ve been wanting to talk to you about something,” she says, her voice comes out steady but the way her eyes don’t quite catch yours makes you nervous.

“Okay,” you say uneasily.

“I’m going to retire from avenging,” Nat says. You open your mouth to react, but she stops you short. “Before you say anything, I’ve thought a lot about this. It makes the most sense for our family. I can’t be out there risking my life. Not when I have so much to lose now.”

“Natasha-“

“I know,” she seems to read your mind. “I know it’s what I’ve always done. Fought for something. But it’s not what I want anymore.”

“Well, you know I support you no matter what,” you tell her. You see her take a deep breath. “And it does make sense why you’ve been different lately. This has been weighing on you. I’m glad you told me.”

“Thank you for understanding,” Nat says. “I have one more mission to go on before I retire. Steve already asked me to go, so I don’t want to leave him and the team hanging.”

“What kind of mission?”

“The kind that might not be the safest,” Nat reluctantly replies. “I’m sorry to tell you about it tonight, but it’s hard to get a moment alone with you.”

“I understand, Natasha,” you say. “Let’s just make the most of tonight before you go?”

“Absolutely, sweetheart. I love you,” Natasha says.

“I love you too,” you say.

The rest of the dinner goes by without anymore serious conversations. Natasha holds your hand as she walks you to the car. Like always, she opens the door for you to slide in.

“Ice cream?” She asks once she’s sitting in the drivers seat.

“The kids will be sad,” you reflect.

“The kids will never know,” Nat says, her playful smirk on her face. “Come on, baby. I want ice cream. Please?”

“Are you begging me?”

“Are you not into me begging you? Because last time I checked you like when I do that,” her voice drops an octave and you feel your entire body react.

“Fine, we’ll get ice cream,” you relent. Nat kisses your cheek in victory. “Only because you’re so cute.”

“I’m not cute,” Nat pouts.

“You’re extremely cute.”

“I’m not.”

“You are, babe. Accept it.”

“Never.”

“Just drive,” you say.

You share a smile and Nat starts the car. She drives to your favorite ice cream place. Natasha doesn’t even have to ask you what you want. She already knows. She orders and you find a booth while she waits for the treats.

“I got two different ones because I wasn’t sure what you were feeling tonight,” she says. She slides into the booth across from you.

“Thank you, my love.”

You eat a little of both flavors while Nat does the same. While you’re eating, Natasha gets a text from Yelena. It’s a photo of the kids sound asleep in the living room.

“And it’s only 9pm. Well done, Yelena,” you say.

“I miss them,” Nat says.

“Me too,” you agree.

You reach across the table and intertwine her fingers with yours.

“How long?” You ask, bringing up the mission again. She doesn’t have to ask you to know it’s what you meant.

“2 maybe 3 weeks,” she replies. “I leave Friday.”

You nod. There’s a sadness lingering but you push it aside for now.

“Should we get the kids something?” Nat asks.

“Nah, it won’t be as good tomorrow. We’ll just take them out when you get back.”

“Good idea,” Nat says. “Let’s go.”

The ride home is quiet, but not uncomfortably so. You love just existing with Natasha. No words can really capture how you’re feeling. She knows that.

When you get home, Nat stops you from opening your car door. She doesn’t say anything, but she leans across the center console and kisses you.

She kisses you like her life depends on it. Her tongue brushes against yours and you realize her intentions. You push her classic leather jacket off her shoulders.

“Nat,” you whisper as her lips move to your neck.

“I want you,” Nat says.

“You can have me,” you say.

She moves her hand to your pants and dips it beneath the fabric. It doesn’t take long at all to find where you want her the most. Natasha knows your body so well.

“Fuck,” you mumble as she moves her fingers through your folds.

“I love you,” Natasha says against your lips. She leaves hot, opened mouthed kisses all over your face, neck, and any other skin she can reach.

“I love you,” you reply. “Fuck, I love you.”

It’s been too long since you’ve done something like this. Since you’ve been entirely lost in each other in a not so private place. Her and the circumstances leave you feeling so hot.

“Come for me,” Natasha says. She knows your body and your whimpers well enough to know you’re close. “Come for me, detka.”

You come hard against her hand. Natasha grins at the pleasure she sees move through your entire body.

She kisses you softly once you’ve opened your eyes again.

“Let’s go inside?” She asks.

You nod. She gets out of the car as you readjust your clothes and follow her.

Once inside, you love the sight you see. Yelena is laying between the kids on the couch. She’s sound asleep.

“Cute,” you whisper.

Nat takes a photo before you tiptoe past your sweet family. Before you make it to your bedroom, you both hear Yelena.

“I know you two were out there a while before you came in,” she says quietly, her eyes still closed.

You and Nat just giggle.

“Night, Yelena,” Natasha says.

“Goodnight, lovebirds,” she replies.

You and Natasha go to your bedroom and finish what you started.

You’re always so proud of her in everything she does, and you know her future even without avenging will be just fine.

And she’ll always come home to you.

[msafterhours]

No Promises

Reader POV x Joo Kyulkyung (Zhou Jieqiong)

~2.7k words

“We were meant to be together sounded so much sweeter when it felt like we had forever.”

There's something beautiful about intentionally making the wrong decision. Like, sure, it sounds crazy to step into the line of fire and say yeah, come on universe; take your best shot, but it’s also kinda fun, no? Granted, soaring down the streets of Seoul with the wind whipping against your jacket and the rain pouring past your helmet is maybe a bit much, but you left any concerns you might have had in the dust long before the sun set. Besides, this is far from the first time you’ve acted with the type of reckless abandon reserved for those who have yet to live long enough to have something to lose.

That calculus changes when you re-enter Seoul: speed limits shift from suggestions to mandates. After a third red in a row rips an extended groan from your chest, you spend the moment inspecting the streets you’ve traversed a thousand times. You’re met by the familiar sight of Gangnam-gu’s glimmering lights, gleaming skyscrapers, and garish nightclubs each casting their own unique reflection onto the shimmering street below. On most nights, you’re able to let the mess of colors fade into the background, but tonight, it feels uncharacteristically gray. Even then, it’s all so loud, from the rainfall on the swarms of umbrellas to the downcast expressions of the faceless crowd—hell, even the red light you’ve been keeping an eye on seems washed out.

Right as you’re wondering if you’ve been transported back in time and cast in a 1940s sitcom, a sudden flash of color at the far edge of vision completely derails your train of thought. You turn and are met by a sight pulled straight from a modern drama: a student close to your own age wearing a soaked banana yellow top and skirt clinging to her legs as she hides under her highlighter pink backpack like it’s some shoddy umbrella. It’s … not a pretty sight.

Or at least it wouldn't be, if not for the rest of her. Her long, dark hair cascades down past her shoulders and clings to her face, obscuring your view of her finer features, yet every aspect of her from her posture to the placement of her steps projects a practiced poise that monopolizes your attention. Everyone else fades from your vision as the light turns green and she turns the crosswalk into her personal runway … though the effect is kinda ruined by the urgency with which she scurries through the rain.

A feeling from deep within urges you to act—that and the person behind you honking their horn since you’ve spent the four seconds since the light turned green frozen in place. You release the brake, accelerate forward, and veer your motorcycle to the side where you know she's heading. With a quick step onto the soaked pavement and a tug on the strap of your helmet, you greet the rain with the widest of smiles, then feel it shift into a smirk as you call out, “Ouch, aren’t you a sad sight to behold. Need some help with that?”

She turns and stares, mouth agape, as she processes the sight of you. Your first glimpse of her leaves you stuck mirroring her expression, mouth agape in disbelief because she's gorgeous, with a sharp jawline that contrasts perfectly against her soft skin. It’s a face sculpted to show on billboards … and one whose disbelief shifts into a smirk as she remains unaffected by your reaction. Your eyes travel upwards past those invitingly soft lips, along the bridge of her nose, all the way up and meeting her own, where you’re all too tempted to lose yourself in them. Eventually, she breaks the silence and asks, “What. The. Fuck. Are you doing? Are you trying to die?”

“Of course not, don’t you listen? I already told you, I’m trying to help,” you say back, smile widening as her skepticism refuses to fade whatsoever. “I just figured that while we’re both out in the rain, only one of us wants to be, yeah? I'd be doing something wrong if I didn't at least offer to get you there faster, so I ask again: do you want my help or not?”

As you offer her your helmet, you see the distrust finally start thawing, just enough for her to crack a smile of her own. “This is insane—you’re insane. But you also seem fun, so why not?”

You hand her the helmet and exchange names, and as the girl you'll come to know as Kyulkyung repeats yours back to you, you watch as her eyebrows relax and the distrust starts leaving her eyes. As you go through a brief crash course—how to wear a helmet, where to sit, etc.—her posture slips too, hints of comfort and fatigue settling in as her shoulders slump. Yet through it all, her eyes remain locked on yours, causing an unexpected pang in your chest as you turn to climb onto the bike. It fades slightly when you turn back to her, offer your hand, and ask, “Okay, you ready?”

Even as Kyulkyung shivers and shakes like a leaf in the wind, the fire in her eyes burns bright as she dismisses your hand and climbs atop the bike with ease. Her arms wrap around you, sending a shock of heat through your system and your heart rate into the stratosphere as she asks, “Do you happen to know where the PLEDIS building is?”

“Funnily enough, I do,” you tell her, smirking with sinister intent as inspiration strikes. “What’re you, a trainee or something?”

“No …” Kyulkyung murmurs, averting her eyes as she continues, “I just have a really good reason to want to be there before 11:00.”

“Sure. Yeah. Totally,” you say. Her eyebrows raise; yours respond in kind. Her bottom lip catches between her teeth. You continue. “You, the ‘School of Performing Arts’ student—in said uniform—strutting around Gangnam of all places. You’re gonna try and convince me you’re not a trainee, just that you happen to have a ‘really good reason’ to be at an agency before a very specific time of night.”

“Are you trying to say something?”

“Two things actually: you’re full of shit and you’re out past curfew.”

“You sound pretty sure of that.”

“Tell me I’m wrong.”

“Why would it even matter?”

“Because I like being right, and you apparently hate being wrong. Aside from that, if I need to get you back before curfew, we’re going to have to book it, run a few red lights, pray that we don’t get pulled over—”

“Alright, enough,” Kyulkyung interjects, eyes rolling with a gymnast’s grace. “You’re not wrong, but let’s just focus on getting me back in one piece, alright? I’m pretty sure they care more about me being alive than on time.”

“We’re not going anywhere until you say it,” you insist. “Go ahead, tell me I’m right.”

“You’re actually serious?” she mutters in disbelief. You opt to let the silence act as your confirmation.

“Fine. You’re right: I’m a trainee. Happy?” Kyulkyung grumbles, grimacing as a grin overtakes your expression. “What gave it away?”

“I dunno, you kinda just seem ‘that kind of pretty’,” you say with a shrug. “Something about the way you walk too … honestly, nothing about you comes off as normal.”

“Bit rich for you of all people to say that, don’t you think? I wouldn’t exactly call this a ‘normal’ way to spend a Friday night.”

“I wouldn't either,” you admit, smiling wide as you respond. “But are you—the trainee—really gonna be the one to lecture me about running headfirst towards an enticing risk?”

“No, I'm not,” Kyulkyung says, her grip on your ribs tightening. “Though I might not be so kind if you keep me out in this rain any longer.”

“Alright, alright, fine,” you wheeze out, struggling to catch your breath as you paint on your most dramatic pout. “You’re no fun … but you are kinda cute, so I guess I can cave just this once.”

“Good,” she replies, smiling in smug satisfaction. “Now, let’s get going! I’m cold.”

“As you wish, princess,” you say, revving the engine and speeding off before she gets the chance to respond.

You immediately lose any semblance of newfound confidence as the unfiltered brunt of the elements threatens to overwhelm you on your first time riding without a helmet. First, it’s the scent of rain. Then, it’s the rain pummeling your brow. Finally, it’s the noise. Your motorcycle roars and the cars passing you scream off into the night as they pass—it’s all just so fucking loud and every single sensation threatens to pull your focus away from the road. Yet even amongst the brutal weather of a stormy night, Kyulkyung’s thoughts resonate through your mind clear as day. You feel her heartbeat race as you accelerate out of a turn, feel her cling to you tighter at every hint of yellow in the stoplights above. Without fail, she wordlessly pleads for you to choose caution, and, without fail, you do whatever she asks.

At one such intersection, you ask a question of your own: you let go of the handlebar and place your hand atop hers. Kyulkyung's response is just as silent, but she needs no words to tell you yes as she intertwines her fingers with yours as you wait together. Even through the drenched material of your glove, the heat of her touch wards off the cold, sending a surge of warmth through your shivering body as you both stare ahead into the awaiting darkness. You revel in the sensation as long as possible, right up until the light turns to green and you’re forced to pull away.

As she embraces you once more and you accelerate forward, a realization cuts through the fog and arrives at the forefront of your mind: you just met this girl and you already know you’re never going to be able to say no to her. And that’s … okay?

Yes. There’s something about her that takes the tension out of the knots in your shoulders, makes you breathe just that bit easier—at least when she’s allowing you to do so. It’s all too easy to ease into her embrace, all too tempting to take your time weaving your way through the tangled web of your home suburb’s streets. The thought proves far too tempting and you choose to do so, desperate to preserve the sanctity of these seconds spent together.

Unfortunately, the night only lasts so long and the road only goes so far, so you’re soon met by the familiar sight of your destination. You force yourself to ease off the gas, allowing your momentum to carry you forward until you come to a stop across the street from the building in question. With a sigh and a swing of your leg, you step off the motorcycle and turn to face her as you offer her your hand. This time, Kyulkyung accepts, taking it and joining you on the sidewalk. After loosening the chin strap, you gently pull the helmet off her head, granting you a glimpse of her parted lips before revealing the excitement and expectation in her wide eyes.

“So, what’d you think? Kinda fun, right?” you ask, allowing your eyebrows to lift in expectation as you await her response.

“Maaaaayyyyyyyyyyyyyyybbbbbeeee,” she says, drawing out that single syllable just long enough for smirks to overtake both your expressions.

“You know what? I’ll take it. And you—” you say, turning away for a moment as you unlock one of the side compartments of your bike and pull something out. “—should take this.”

Kyulkyung lets out the slightest squeak of surprise as she catches the umbrella you toss her, though the surprise is quickly replaced by the disdain and disbelief overtaking her expression. “Wait, you’re kidding. You have to be. You had this the whole fucking time?”

“Yep!”

“And you still felt the need to convince me to risk my life on that screaming metal death trap?”

“I thought it’d be a valuable experience,” you say, shrugging once more. “You can keep the umbrella by the way; it’s all yours.”

Kyulkyung’s sigh of resignation is all that keeps the street from falling into silence as you stand there, waiting for her to voice her thoughts. Eventually, she does so. “Give me your phone.”

“So greedy, honestly. I just gave you a ride and my umbrella, yet you’re still asking for more?” you scoff. Still though, you do as she asks, pulling it out of your pocket and unlocking it before handing it to her.

“It’s one of my toxic traits,” she replies as she taps away at the screen. “Everyone else seems to have gotten used to it, so I’m sure you’ll be fine, eventually.”

“Oh?” you ask, eyebrow arching as she piques your curiosity. “You hoping I’ll stick around?”

“No, I was just texting myself from your phone for the hell of it,” she says, sarcasm soaking her words like the rain-soaked streets as she finishes typing. “It totally wasn’t because I was gonna ask if I could get you coffee or something, as thanks for getting me home safe.”

Kyulkyung finally looks away from the screen, meeting your gaze with an infectious smile as she offers you your phone. “That’s unfortunate. I really like the thought of someone else paying for my drink.”

“Yeah?” she asks. A pause. Then, “Maybe we’ll just have to make it happen.”

“Maybe we will,” you agree. With that, you turn and remount your motorcycle. Before you go, you offer her one last smile as you bid her farewell. “I need to get back, but I hope you have a good night and good luck with—” you gesture wildly at the beautiful mess standing in front of you “—explaining everything I guess.”

“Thaaanks,” Kyulkyung grumbles, pouting as she shudders at the thought and ripping a warm laugh out from deep within your chest. As it echoes against the buildings’ frigid walls, her hints of a smile bloom into her own peals of laughter that harmonize with your own as they resonate as one.

“I hope you have a good night too,” she says softly after a short while. “Try not to die on the way home, alright?”

“No promises.”

Kyulkyung’s eyes roll once more, but there’s genuine gratitude in the nod she gives before turning away. As she disappears into the building’s darkened halls and vanishes from your sight, a chill courses through your veins, leaving you shivering as you adjust your helmet and take off down the road.

Barely a minute passes before you reach your apartment complex and the pale brick and light blue tones that define its color palette. After locking up your bike, you hike upstairs, step up to your door, turn the latch, and reveal … the silent darkness within. Empty, just like always. Muscle memory guides your hand to the switch, momentarily blinding you as the cool whites wash away the darkness to reveal the relaxing hues of your home.

While the sight normally instills a sense of calmness, it all seems to blur as the chill refuses to leave your body, rendering you seasick as your head swims. It remains even as you peel away your gloves and free yourself from the soaked leather of your jacket, leaving you shivering even as you turn on the shower and pray for it to heat quickly. As you wait, you decide to check your phone and see what message Kyulkyung sent herself.

You can’t help but scoff at the assumption, but it quickly shifts into a smile as you compose your response.

You (10:59 PM): When you read this, let me know if you got home safe.

I don’t want to put the time into making coffee plans if you’re not gonna show up

You (11:08 PM): You’re insufferable

You (11:08 PM): How’d everything go? Were you able to sneak back in?

Kyulkyung (11:09 PM): Oh, easily

You (11:09 PM): Not your first time pushing curfew?

Kyulkyung (11:09 PM): Definitely not

Kyulkyung (11:10 PM): And definitely not the last either

You (11:10 PM): Can't say I'm surprised lol

You (11:11 PM): I hope you enjoy the rest of your weekend, even if the most interesting part has already happened

Kyulkyung (11:11 PM): Lol thanks, try not to get into too much trouble while I'm not there to supervise

You (11:12 PM): No promises

(My sincerest gratitude to @capslocked as always for their contributions towards bettering this fic. This was a draft I started a while ago that I didn't foresee myself finishing, but as I was editing it, I had the idea of posting little vignettes from the plot that I had written instead of making it a singular narrative. The plot I had in mind originally spanned something like 4 years, so just writing the highlights seems like a better fit (if there's interest for this story at all, I know it's an idol that's been away from the industry for a bit). Regardless, thank you so much for spending your time reading my work and I hope you enjoyed it!)

[moonlight-hwa]

Beautiful ~ S. J

Synopsis: Wherein you’re getting ready for a date with your fiancé, but every time you look in the mirror you hate what you see.

Pairings: fiancé!jake x fem!reader

Genre: established long-term relationship, hurt/comfort, angst, a sprinkle of fluff

Warnings: reader is insecure about her body and the way she looks. insecurities, body images issues, low self-esteem

Word Count: 1,164

A/N: This for all my girlies (aka me) out there that have dealt with and/or are dealing with body image and low self esteem, love y’all so much and trust me it gets better over time💗💗

The water that beat down on you was hot, almost scalding, trying desperately to distract yourself form the insecure thoughts and feelings that filled your mind…you didn’t want to feel like this, not when you were supposed to have a fun date night with your fiancé.

   The day started off so normal, you woke up next to the love of your life and just enjoyed the morning together…so how did you get here? Standing in the shower, hot water beating down on you, trying to numb yourself from these self-sabotaging thoughts. Maybe this had started when you had stripped bare, before getting in the shower and had found yourself locked onto your reflection, taking notice of every stretch mark on your skin, the way your inner thighs touched and the way your stomach wasn’t exactly flat.

    You could feel the familiar prickle of tears in your eyes, the insecure thoughts becoming overwhelming, until the point you barely realized a knock on the bathroom door, before it eventually opened. “y/n? Are you okay, sweetheart? You’ve been in here for almost twenty minutes.” The familiar voice of your fiancé causes you to completely freeze, as you sniffle lightly and wipe away fallen tears from your cheeks. “Yeah, I’m fine. I’ll be out in a few moments.” You replied, voice weak and shaky, dread filling the pit of your stomach at the thought of facing Jake like this.

    Jake hesitates to leave the bathroom, getting the immediate gut feeling that something was wrong…but he doesn’t say anything else, besides a simple ‘okay’ before leaving, hoping that when you got out of the shower, you’d tell him what was bothering you. When you finally get out of the shower, you quickly wrap a towel around you, not giving yourself the chance to look in the mirror. But when you go to open the door, you stop your bottom lip beginning to quiver as more tears glossed over your eyes.

   “Jake…” You weakly called through the door, and you immediately hear footsteps approaching the still closed door, followed by “Yes, love? What’s wrong?” Your mouth opens to respond, but nothing comes out. At your silence Jake follows up with “Can I come in?” You feel your heart sink a little as your arms went to cross over chest, in attempt to cover yourself before a making a small hum of approval.

   The door slowly creaks open, before Jake’s head peaks from around the door and when your gazes lock, a frown tugs downward at his lips and he felt his heart drop to his stomach, finally realizing what was happening. Jake was very aware of your struggles with your body image and low self-esteem, so he could very easily pick up on signs that you were struggling with such thoughts; like in this exact moment, you stood in front of him with glassy eyes as your arms tried to cover yourself up…his heart broke seeing you like this, he hated it.

   “Oh y/n…” He expressed softly and you dreaded his next words, thinking that he was going to scold you for having such thoughts, so you speak before he has a chance to continue “I-I know…I’m sorry, I don’t…I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” You spoke through a soft sob, as a shiver came over you, water still dripping from your frame. Jake’s frown deepens “There’s nothing wrong with you, love…nothing at all is wrong with you y/n.” He said reassuringly, causing you to bite your bottom lip to stop more tears from falling, because you knew he meant it…but why did it feel like the opposite, like there was something wrong with you.

    Jake’s hands go up to cup either side of your face, causing you to snap out of your wondering thoughts “Where’d you go, love?” He asked softly, thumbs moving across your cheeks, wiping away tears that had unknowingly fell from your eyes. “I’m sorry…I-I don’t know.” You reply, even though you did know…you just couldn’t bring yourself to say anything else. “You don’t need to keep apologizing…there’s nothing to be sorry about, its not your fault for having these thoughts.” Jake said with a soft smile.

   “Now…lets get you some warm clothes. Okay?” You nod in response, another shiver going over your body, before he lightly pressed his lips to your forehead “I’ll be right back.” He said and that was when the realization hit you, noticing that Jake was dressed for your date…you felt guilt fill the pit of your stomach. “What about our date?” You asked, just before he stepped out of the bathroom.

  He turned back around to face you again. “Don’t worry about it, love…when we’re married, we’ll have plenty of time to go on as many dates as you want. But for tonight you obviously just need a night in, filled with cuddles and your favorite movie to take your mind off things.” He answered and that made you feel a bit better as a small smile formed on your lips, before you muttered a soft ‘okay’.

   When Jake returned to the bathroom, he had already changed into a hoodie and a pair of sweatpants, with his clothes in hand for you. “Here you go, sweetheart.” He spoke, placing the clothes on the sink countertop “I’ll wait for you outside, okay?” You nod in response once more and he gives you the prettiest smile, before he leaves the bathroom, shutting the door behind him as he did.

   Yet even though you were feeling slightly better, the self-sabotaging thoughts were still there, no longer in the fore front of your mind but still there, nonetheless. When you finally exit the bathroom, after getting dressed into warm clothes, you are met with Jake sat on your shared bed, tv remote in hand as he searched for your favorite movie. You smile, feeling your heart swell with intense love and adoration for your fiancé, as you take closer steps to the bed, before eventually settling between his legs, your back against his chest.

   Jake scoots back a little bit, until his back was fully rested against the headboard and his left arm went to wrap around your middle…which for some reason caused you to flinch slightly. Obviously, he notices this and immediately tightens his hold around you “You’re okay, love.” He said softly, kissing the side of your head before continuing.

   “Have I ever told you how pretty you are?” You felt you heart skip a beat “Because you are so pretty…gorgeous even, absolutely gorgeous. No matter what you will always be gorgeous and beautiful in my eyes…always.” Your eyes become glossy with more tears, head falling back to rest on his shoulder so you could look at him and when your gazes locked all you saw was genuine intense love in his eyes.

   A tearful smile forms on your lips “I love you, Jake.” You confessed softly and he returns the smile “I love you too…so much my beautiful, beautiful girl.”

A/N: Hey...sorry for not posting a oneshot in a while, writers block happened and then I worked on another of my of my fanfics. But anyway I hoped you enjoyed Beautiful and I will try my best to get Anniversary posted as well.

[wandering-winchesters]

Beneath The Surface

Summary: Dean struggles to keep his growing feelings at bay.

Dean Winchester wasn’t one to get lost in his thoughts—at least, that’s what he liked to tell himself. Life on the road, hunting monsters, saving people, it didn’t leave much room for reflection or introspection. But lately, more and more, he found his thoughts drifting to you.

He couldn’t quite put his finger on when it started. Maybe it was the first time you patched him up after a hunt, your hands steady and sure as you cleaned the blood from his wounds, not flinching or showing a hint of fear. Or maybe it was that night in the bunker when you stayed up late with him, the two of you sipping on whiskey in the library, sharing stories about your pasts, the kind of stories that were usually kept hidden. Somewhere along the way, between the late-night conversations, the hunts that nearly went sideways, and the moments of quiet that were far too rare, you had become more than just a fellow hunter. You had become someone he couldn’t imagine his life without.

Dean wasn’t good with words, never had been. He’d always been more comfortable with action—with a gun in his hand or a wrench under the hood of the Impala. But when it came to you, he found himself wanting to say things he didn’t know how to express. You had a way of getting under his skin, of making him think about things he’d rather not think about—like how he actually felt, or what he wanted out of life. Things he’d buried a long time ago, thinking they had no place in the life he led.

You were different from anyone he’d ever known. You were tough, no doubt about it—you had to be to survive in their world. But there was more to you than just the hunter side. You had this softness, this warmth that Dean found himself drawn to, like a moth to a flame. It was in the way you cared for people, the way you could be in the middle of a fight with some supernatural creature one minute and then offer a kind word or a comforting touch the next. It was in the way you saw him, really saw him, past the tough-guy facade, past the bravado. You saw the man underneath, the one who was tired, who was scared, who was just trying to keep it all together.

Dean often found himself watching you when you weren’t looking. Like when you were hunched over a stack of lore books, your brow furrowed in concentration, or when you were cleaning your weapons with that methodical precision you always had. He noticed the little things—the way you bit your lip when you were deep in thought, the way your eyes lit up when you figured something out, the way you always made sure Sam and Dean had eaten, even when you were just as exhausted and hungry as they were. It was these small, quiet moments that caught him off guard, that made him realize just how much you meant to him.

And then there were the times when you smiled. Dean wasn’t a man who smiled easily—his life hadn’t given him many reasons to. But your smile had a way of breaking through his defenses, of making him forget, even if just for a moment, about all the darkness and the danger. It was like a light in the dark, something pure and good in a world that was anything but. He’d find himself doing things just to see that smile, whether it was cracking a joke, even a bad one, or surprising you with your favorite takeout after a long day. It didn’t make sense, not really, but there it was.

He saw you as more than just another hunter, more than just someone who had his back in a fight. You were his partner, his friend, and, though he’d never said it out loud, you were something more—something he was scared to put a name to. Because if he did, if he let himself admit what he really felt, he knew there’d be no going back. And that scared the hell out of him.

Dean had lost so much in his life—too much. Everyone he cared about had been taken from him at some point or another, and he wasn’t sure he could handle losing you too. That’s why he kept his feelings close, locked away where they couldn’t hurt him. But there were moments, late at night when the world was quiet and it was just the two of you, that he’d let his guard down, just for a second. Like when you were sitting beside him on the hood of the Impala, your shoulders touching, both of you staring up at the stars. In those moments, he’d let himself think about what it would be like to have more, to have something real, something good.

But then the sun would rise, and the hunt would start again, and Dean would push those thoughts aside, bury them deep where they couldn’t distract him. Because he had a job to do, and there was no room for distractions, no matter how much he wanted them.

Still, no matter how hard he tried to keep his feelings in check, they were always there, bubbling just beneath the surface. He couldn’t help it. You had a way of getting to him, of making him want things he’d long ago told himself he couldn’t have.

Dean often found himself wondering what you saw when you looked at him. Did you see the broken man, the one who’d made more mistakes than he could count, who’d lost more than he could ever get back? Or did you see something else, something more? He didn’t know, and he was too afraid to ask. But he knew what he saw when he looked at you. He saw someone strong, someone who’d been through hell and come out the other side, but who still had a heart, who still cared. He saw someone who made him want to be better, who made him believe that maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t as lost as he thought.

And that scared him more than any monster ever could. Because if he let himself care, if he let himself love, he knew there was a chance he could lose it all. And that was a risk he wasn’t sure he was brave enough to take.

But then he’d look at you, really look at you, and he’d feel something stir inside him—something he hadn’t felt in a long time. Hope. And maybe, just maybe, that was enough.

Tag List: @roseblue373 @hobby27 @jc-winchester @whump-loverz @pizzagirlxnsfwx @king-of-milf-lovers