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jinwoosungs · 2 months

Text

{ 137 }

like you do.

jinwoo sung x fem.reader

notes: this story is going to get so meta, so my apologies in advance. also, despite my status of requests being technically closed, this one was too good to ignore. full request description and story under the cut ♡

p.s. - listen to joji’s like you do.

{ and everyone else… they don't matter now | you're the one i can't lose | no one loves me like you do… }

anonymous said: Thank you for answeringgggg. This gonna be long. Be ready to get bored✨🫶 I keep thinking about your Jinwoo post. The divergent one to be exactly. What I've been thinking is kinda similar theme. What about, a reader who's always there for Jinwoo but not visible? Like she's a system or a quiet constellation that supports him from behind but under shadow. In the early chapter when Jinwoo is running out of coffee. Suddenly he found a thermos inside his bag with a warm coffee. He didn't remember to prepare it, but since it was already inside his bag maybe Jin-ah put it in or he forgot, but it was the readers! Another chance, readers always help him in silence like, sometimes heal him a little by little, didn't want make a big question mark if he suddenly fully healed in a sec right? Helping to take care of Jin-ah and his mom whenever he's not there for them, healing the resident when war so there's no much loss happen and many little things that she do to help him. She gets jealous seeing him asking Hae-in to the amusement park, but what she can do though, she just loves him too much to be happy for him to find love. In the end, when he reaches his happy ending, the reader finds the courage to say goodbye. Whispering to Jinwoo's ear softly, saying goodbye and hoping he'll be happy. Then it felt like a snap for Jinwoo. It's... Warm, it's felt like it's always there, the reasons able to fight every problem and challenge, then it's gone, he doesn't feel complete anymore. This time for Jinwoo for searching readers! 📸📸 Sorry if my English is not good, it's not my first language 😔😔. Just want to drop this idea instead let it run around my mind and make me crazy to thinking Jinwoo and his readers who are always there🫶🫶🫶 Love you, my top list favorite person❤️❤️😼

{ ... }

it was pathetic, really.

sung jinwoo wasn't even someone that existed-

so why was it that your heart raced each time you would see his achingly handsome features against your phone's screen?

why does your heart continue to pound and fill your chest with butterflies with each new volume of solo leveling that came out?

and why did you have to get so jealous, witnessing the pure love jinwoo had in his eyes for cha hae-in?

it was so obvious that you were in love with him; genuinely in love with him despite how he would never be real.

in reality, you were bit of an introverted person, attending university with your head bowed down in a manner that let your peers know that you were closed off and shy. that you never could find the confidence to be your true self while in front of those who didn't know you.

perhaps that was why your heart was so drawn to a character like sung jinwoo. after all, he started out as being known as the weakest in the world; a meek and timid man who hid his anxieties behind a kind smile.

but you loved him all the same.

even when knowing he would never be able to see you-

or how you would never get to feel the safety of his arms around you-

or see the passion in his glowing eyes each time he would protect you from danger.

it would never be a reality for you-

yet still, you cherished jinwoo deeply,

like a lover would.

so, you spend your days reading stories pertaining to him, inserting yourself within these various daydreams as you tricked your heart into believing that he loved you, too.

after all, it was the one thing you could do to assuage the heartache you constantly felt whenever you saw jinwoo chasing after hae-in, even after he reset everything in order to protect the world.

even if you could never be his true lover, no matter how hard you tried to shift into his reality and be with him.

with a heavy heart while being surrounded by the various volumes of solo leveling, you lay still in your bed and put your phone down. you had finished re-reading the side stories that pertained to jinwoo's life after the reset and how his shadow soldiers were so happy that he found hae-in again-

and you had to stop because you felt your throat closing up due to the heartache and jealousy of it all.

feeling the warm tears streaming down your face, you close your eyes and fall into what you hoped would be a dreamless slumber-

only to be proven wrong the moment you lost your consciousness.

{ ... }

[ ... resetting ... ]

[ ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ]

[ now loading ]

[ SUNG JINWOO'S GUARDIAN ]

a strange sensation was felt coursing through your veins, and you awaken with a gasp, feeling your heart pounding as your eyes take in the scenery that surrounds you.

it takes you a minute to reorient yourself, with you standing shakily on your two feet, wiping the sleep from your eyes. you were dimly aware of the translucent screens that block your periphery. but... you weren't paying attention to that.

you allow your eyes to look around, widening upon feeling the sudden nostalgia that fills you. somehow... you knew that you recognized this city. but something felt... off.

for starters, the colors were so much brighter than what you were used to. it was as though the city were made by an artist who was passionate about their drawings coming to life. as you were left feeling awed, all while wondering why this all looked familiar to you was when you finally realized-

you were in seoul, south korea-

specifically, the seoul that was the main setting for solo leveling.

you felt the air rushing out of your lungs in labored puffs, your heart seeming to palpitate out of your chest when you allow your eyes to look in front of you, finally seeing the translucent screen and its message:

[ the system welcomes you... ]

"i... can you understand me?" you were speaking to the screen, feeling your heart jump against your chest when another message appears.

[ yes. i have chosen you to help with the development of the future shadow monarch. ]

you recognize jinwoo's title, ready to say something had it not been for the fact that you saw sung jinwoo himself running past you. your heart was caught in the confines of your throat, seeing jinwoo who had yet been awakened.

even with his frumpy appearance and lackluster clothes, your heart still managed to race for him. his grey eyes was much softer now, not attaining the edge of his post-awakened self quite yet. he was uncertain and shy, but you knew that deep down he had a heart of gold that wanted nothing more than to care for and protect his mother and little sister.

that was the sole trait that never changed-

and you loved him for it.

filled with a longing to be with him, to reach out and touch him, you didn't even think twice when you extended your hands out to him. you wanted so badly to touch his shoulder and tell him how everything was going to be okay-

that all of his dreams (and more) would come true as long as he remained vigilant and brave throughout each trial and tribulations he had to face-

yet the moment your hand was place on his shoulder, you felt it pass through him…

your eyes became wide once more, looking down at your hands as you saw that they were also translucent. that your appearance seemed to mimic that of static itself, not quite taking a physical form despite how much you knew that you existed in this realm.

[ i am sorry, but i cannot have your existence meddle with the monarch's story. ]

you turn your gaze back to the screens-

back to the system's way of communicating with you.

[ however, i do know that your heart and soul are pure, and that your feelings for sung jinwoo remain true. ]

[ so i will grant you your desire of helping him. the system i have made for you is deeply tied to sung jinwoo. whatever item you wish to give him shall appear as the young man continues to level up. ]

[ do you agree to remain as SUNG JINWOO'S GUARDIAN? ]

"...yes."

your voice suddenly became much stronger now, being filled with a determination that you didn't believe was even possible. just the thought that you were given this chance to be close to jinwoo was enough to bring you an immense amount of joy.

"i accept being his guardian... and helping him whenever he is in need."

[ ... very well. go on and carry out your first mission. ]

with one last nod, you await the system's next message as it read.

[ MISSION 1: FOLLOW SUNG JINWOO TO THE FIRST GATE; CONSTRUCTION SITE ]

already knowing the scene that was meant to play out, you keep your gaze honed in on jinwoo as he quickly crossed the street, with you chasing after him.

your movements were fluid, and you were so happy that the system gave you the ability to fly, allowing you to keep track of jinwoo and where he currently was at all times. you bask in such freedom of flight and stopped when you reached the construction sight.

as if flight came as natural as breathing to you, you gently land next to jinwoo, seeing his forlorn gaze each time the older hunters insulted him, referring him to the weakest in the world. all you wanted to do was comfort him, and despite how you knew he would never feel you-

you couldn't stop yourself from wrapping your arms around him.

"it's okay, you will become stronger. and... i will be with you every step of the way." you say while keeping your arms hovered over his shoulders, your lips press against his skin in a phantom kiss while whispering lovingly within his ear.

suddenly, you take notice when he perks up, grey eyes filled with a newfound determination. you weren't sure what happened, but jinwoo seemed to find a bit of confidence as he steps closer to the coffee stand and speaks to the worker.

"hi, may i have a cup of coffee?"

the worker gives him a nervous smile while giving jinwoo a gentle shake of his head.

"ah, hunter sung jinwoo... i'm sorry, all the coffee ran out just now."

you watch as a look of disappointment appears on jinwoo's face, hearing him let out a sigh as you quickly called out to the system.

"please, give me a thermos filled with warm coffee, made the way jinwoo likes it."

the system then flashes you a screen, showing you your inventory as a green thermos was seen with the words FRESH COFFEE printed below it. you reach your hand and touch at the screen, allowing the thermos to appear at the palm of your hand before disappearing completely from your inventory.

with gentle movements, you manage to move the thermos filled with hot coffee towards one of the pockets seen on jinwoo's backpack, the sudden weight and appearance of the thermos making jinwoo take a step backwards.

"what the...?!"

you stand off to the side, feeling your heart beginning to race with happiness the moment jinwoo reaches into his backpack and pulls out the warm thermos, his eyes going wide. you couldn't help but gently laugh at his bewildered expression.

he was just so cute to you.

with a smile on your face, you watch as he opens the thermos, taking a swig out of the coffee while letting out a happy sigh. "wow, just how i like it, too. maybe jinah made this for me?"

"i'm really sorry about this, hunter sung jinwoo!" the worker calls out to him, but jinwoo simply smiles back at him.

"no worries! i think my sister packed some coffee for me before she left, so it's fine!"

before you could watch jinwoo enter the gate, you were suddenly pulled back by a force, preventing you from moving forward.

[ MISSION 1, COMPLETED ]

with a look of absolute yearning, you call out to jinwoo,

"STAY STRONG AND BE BRAVE! I BELIEVE IN YOU!"

and for a brief second, before you were ripped away from this tiny portion of his life, you could have sworn that jinwoo turn around to look in your direction-

{ ... }

despite how this all felt unreal to you, you couldn't deny the sheer amount of happiness you felt, being labeled as jinwoo's guardian by the system.

in fact, you had felt so blessed, being a part of jinwoo's most prominent moments in his life.

from his second awakening, being resurrected due to the system's choosing while giving him several side quests and missions-

to helping him heal even the most grievous of injuries when he had to go against kang taeshik-

you were just so elated by it all.

never once did you leave his side, using your own system in hopes of making jinwoo's life easier.

[ COMPLETE ]

it was strange, but each mission that was given to you was tied deeply to your desire to help and protect jinwoo. whenever jinwoo had a need for a certain potion or elixir to help with replenishing his stamina or mana (especially during his earlier stages of leveling up), it would always mysteriously appear in front of him.

and during the moments where jinwoo showed his concerns for his mother and the well-being of his little sister, you would always stay behind and make sure that they were doing well. you knew that someday soon, jinwoo would make the holy water of life for his mother, but still kept watch over her to make sure that she remained undisturbed.

you kept going through the motions of his life, and once jinwoo was able to safely awaken his mother, you left jinwoo's side to give him a moment of privacy between him and her. even though you knew what would happen (burning the image of his crying face filled with relief and joy into your memories), it didn’t feel right to intrude on such an intimate moment.

yet you leaving the scene in the hospital suddenly brought you to a different part in jinwoo's life.

it had to be sometime after his mother's awakening, as jinwoo was seen dressed in all black. his hair was blowing gently with the wind as he remained seated on top of a building. his eyes were glowing, and it seemed as though he was waiting for something. you trail your gaze up towards the skies, seeing it being painted in an ominous, glowing violet hue.

you suddenly felt a strange pang against your chest, recognizing this scene as being the one that made you so jealous that it hurt.

it was the scene where jinwoo ask hae-in out to the amusement park before showing her the starry skies.

you watch with your heart clenching so painfully when he chooses cha hae-in's number and gives her a call, his voice filled with a gentle fondness as he asks if she was free. knowing what would happen in the chapter, it was clear that she would drop her training, just to be with him.

despite how you felt your throat clenching in response, you were given little time to react as the scene suddenly shifts once more, leaving your form cast to the side as you landed haphazardly against the street of the amusement park.

you could feel the heat dyed against your cheeks, finally grateful that no one could see you. you look to your front to see jinwoo and hae-in walking together, feeling your heartache reach even new levels. surrounding you were people who looked at the two hunters with awe, clearly admiring them as they stepped aside and made room for them, allowing them to walk freely around the amusement park.

if you thought reading this chapter was difficult, then your past self was dead wrong-

for witnessing this in action hurt far worse than this.

you shake your head just then, fighting back your tears as you stood back to your full height. with a determined nod, you take to the skies once more, following the future couple as they continued their endeavors within the amusement park.

you kept your focus on jinwoo, ignoring the pain in your heart each time hae-in was beside him.

like a movie playing out on the big screen, you watch as they rode every ride the amusement park had to offer. their expressions were left blank and filled with a boredom, not feeling the thrills like normal people would.

in fact, the scene was so funny and cute that you couldn't help but laugh.

after spending a few hours tailing from close behind them, you follow jinwoo and hae-in as they had lunch together.

"are you getting bored?"

"hey, no. i'm having fun."

hae-in admits to jinwoo while taking sips of her soda.

you could hear the amusement in jinwoo's voice when he asks, "then how come you haven't cried or screamed at least once?"

he sighs while playing with the straw of his own drink, resting his cheek against the palm of his hand while stating, "the games are a bit 'slow', aren't they?"

"hm, ah... yes..." there seemed to be a bit of an awkward silence when hae-in trails off.

suddenly, your heart was felt clenching once more when jinwoo gives hae-in a charming smile.

"so should we get on to something more exciting?"

her blush was evident, and you could barely breathe when the scene shifts once more.

you were back to the skies now, with jinwoo and hae-in riding on one of his shadow soldiers, a large dragon that flew across the heavens while seeming to cut through the setting sun with its shadowy wings. even as the tears were felt streaming down your face, you couldn't deny that such a scene was utterly beautiful to you.

you could not hear a single word that was being said between them, but you recall their words clearly from reading it so many times, back when your pain felt so fresh- just like an open wound against your heart.

you continue to hover above jinwoo and hae-in, allowing your tears to fall down against his cheek as his eyes seemed to widen in response.

"what... is it raining?" jinwoo trails his eyes up at the sky, and you had to move away from them as hae-in gave jinwoo a questioning glance.

"no, there are no clouds... it's not raining at all."

forcing your heart to calm down its rapid beats, you let out a shaky breath, wondering if somehow...

he could feel you after all...?

you shake your head at the thought and continue to follow them, knowing exactly where jinwoo planned to take her as the scene shifts for you once more. you watch as they arrived at a gorgeous meadow surrounded by the gentle forest, remaining up high in the sky as they admired the stars together.

"system... could you do something for me?"

[ of course. ]

you close your eyes and allow the tears to freely fall now. "summon a meteor shower... a show of the stars and heavens themselves for the lovers to enjoy."

[ as you wish. ]

you allow the system to summon a gorgeous meteor shower, hearing hae-in's gentle gasp while looking up at the stars. streaks of light trailed behind each meteor as the starry skies seemed to glow in response to the strange and ephemeral phenomena.

"it's so... beautiful."

your smile was filled with a hidden sadness, yet you couldn’t deny just how happy you felt being able to do this for him. and as you look over to see jinwoo's own reaction, you felt your heart stop in response.

for he was not looking at the skies or the falling stars-

he was looking directly at you.

"yes... beautiful."

yet before you could even speak, you saw the system's message as you were pulled away from the moment once more.

[ COMMENCING FINAL MISSION: FAREWELL ]

your heart was pounding as the tears fell freely down your face, suddenly taken to what looked like a more peaceful time.

your feet were staggering, trying to maintain your balance when you take shaky steps against the sidewalk. the sun was setting, and you saw what looked like jinwoo in his university years, standing with hae-in as he spoke to her while admiring the setting sun.

you knew what you had to do. now that you had done what your heart had always desired to do, you step closer to jinwoo to whisper in his ear.

"jinwoo, even though i am certain that you never saw me, i thank you for giving me this chance to be with you... to help with making your life even the tiniest bit better."

you let out a sniffle before shakily continuing,

"you have always been a sole source of comfort for me, and i know i need to take this chance and let you go so you can find the happiness that you deserve."

as jinwoo continues to smile down at hae-in, hanging on to her every word, that was when you let your tears fall once more before telling him one last time.

"i love you, and i'll always wish for your happiness."

with those finally words set free from the depths of your heart and soul, you felt a warmth filling you, with your form disintegrating into thin air as you felt your consciousness slowly return back to your world. yet even though you knew you would never see him again, you felt... content-

at peace, even.

[ well done, it is time for you to awaken... ]

the last thing you recall was seeing a blinding light… allowing your body to bask in its brilliance one last time…

{ ... }

there was a sudden emptiness felt within the depths of sung jinwoo's heart-

and he wasn't sure what was wrong with him.

jinwoo was never the same after he lost... something; even after he had used the cup of reincarnation while proceeding to live his life as a normal human being, there was a gaping hole left within his chest.

he remembers the feeling of a warmth surrounding him; of the sounds of a gentle voice calling out to him while encouraging him. it may have been silly, but...

jinwoo developed a great courage and strength thanks to that gentle voice alone.

yet now, he felt as though he had suddenly lost it.

no longer did he feel such warmth coursing through his veins. no longer could he feel that comforting presence that made his courage soar to new heights-

heights that he never could believe he could even reach.

such feelings of emptiness was what ultimately made his heart feel closed off from those that he loved...

from his parents and sister...

from cha hae-in.

he spent the following days being lost in a trance, and he didn't know what to do to feel whole again.

"my, i did not believe that the loss of her presence would affect you so deeply."

jinwoo lets out a gasp, suddenly finding himself within the same meadows ashborn had confronted him in; the moment he had died and was fully reborn as ashborn's successor- the shadow monarch.

the wind was felt coursing through his hair, and he could not bring himself to speak to ashborn, eyes losing what little light it once had.

had he fallen asleep? was that why he was back in the land of repose?

"you are unhappy." ashborn's voice echoes throughout the realm, and jinwoo could no longer ignore him.

"am i unhappy?"

jinwoo was dimly aware of the bitter laugh that escapes from ashborn's parted lips before suddenly changing into someone-

an unfamiliar young woman as his voice takes on her tone.

"have you forgotten? i am you and you are me."

jinwoo recognizes that voice, eyes going wide as he reaches out to the unfamiliar figure-

he was certain he had never seen such a young woman before in his life-

yet that voice-

that resounding voice who always always always seemed to comfort him when his fears had taken over him-

the strange image of the young woman and that comforting voice-

it had to be one and the same.

"who is she?! and... how come i can't seem to find her, or even know her... yet- i-i know her voice! she-"

"the woman hails from another universe, one that is like the world you currently reside it, yet different."

jinwoo could feel his head begin to spin upon hearing such a revelation. "she... she is-"

"she is not from your world. your lives would have never collided had it not been for my intervention."

the young hunter's throat began to turn dry, unable to form a coherent thought when ashborn continues to speak.

"the world she lives in is a safe one; one where the only monsters that exists are simply those selfish humans and their own dark desires. gates and the presence of rulers and monarchs have never touched her world..."

he watches with a fascination, seeing the alluring girl flash him a smile.

"in fact, your whole life may be nothing but a mere story within her world."

jinwoo finally snaps out of it, hands clenched into fists when he asks, "how can i reach her? is there a way for me to be with her with the way i am now? can i use my powers as a monarch to find her?"

"... don't you think it's foolish to give up all that you've known for her?"

ashborn's words were enough to make jinwoo freeze in his tracks.

"think carefully about my words, i told you she comes from a world where beings like monarchs and rulers do not exist.

if you decide to find her; to join her in such a world that is so vastly different from your own, then you will lose your powers as a monarch. you will be reverted back to a normal man.

will you truly give up your peaceful life here? your family, your friends- every battle you have faced will be all for naught if you decide to reach her."

jinwoo allows his hair to fall across his eyes, covering them from ashborn when he steadily asks, "why did you allow her to come here, then?”

a silence was felt permeating at the air, becoming thick with tension as ashborn decided on whether to tell him the truth or not.

"i sent her here, allowing her to live certain moments of your life together solely because of the strength of love she held for you."

that was all the answer jinwoo needed as he met with ashborn's gaze, telling him his answer with a determination seen within his glowing, purple eyes.

{ ... }

you wake up with a start, your breathing coming out in shaky breath as the tears couldn't seem to stop. with a sigh, you cover your swollen eyes with both of your hands, struggling to catch your breath as you sorted through your every emotion.

you felt happy-

you felt love and adoration-

and the pinpricks of heartbreak coming into full fruition at the memory of jinwoo and hae-in together.

yet perhaps more so than that was the feeling of utter peace you felt after waking up from your dream.

feeling your smile going wide, you decide to wake up and begin your day.

you collect the volumes of solo leveling that you owned, making a note to yourself to buy the next volume when it came out. as you placed the solo leveling manhwa on your bookshelf, you begin to tidy up your room (making your bed and charging your phone in the process.)

it was strange; despite how you were 100% certain that you had been dreaming about being close to jinwoo as his guardian, you couldn't deny how much happier you felt once you woke up. it was true, the heartache was still there, yet you knew that as long as jinwoo was happy-

then you would be happy, too.

letting out a content sigh, you decide that it was high time that you changed your life for the better-

all while using the courage jinwoo had given you to become stronger.

{ ... }

there were rumors going around about a cute new freshman who transferred to your university, and despite how you held zero interest for any new students (because truly, new students came in troves each semester), you couldn't deny that you felt intrigued.

apparently, he was korean, with a face that could match with any current idol. according to the rumors, he had messy locks of black hair and dreamy, grey eyes. several girls had already tried speaking to him, practically throwing themselves at him-

yet he would always turn them down and tell them that he already had someone he liked.

but that didn't seem to discourage the girls (and some of the boys, too) from crushing on this handsome freshman. and admittedly, their antics seemed to greatly amuse you.

after completing your study sessions with your friends, you tell them that you had to go back to your dorm and make some dinner while working on your paper that was due soon. despite how they didn't want to see you go, you admitted to them how you would be too distracted at wanting to talk to them to get much work done.

in the end, they relented and allowed you to leave. you were simply walking back to your dorm, finding safety and comfort from within the street lamps that lit up the sidewalks. as you continued your trek, you look up to see an extremely tall young man walking down in the opposite direction.

the sight of him dressed in a hoodie and jeans makes you stop dead in your tracks, unable to look away from him. he also takes notice of your stance, yet instead of ignoring you and walking away-

he takes several steps towards you.

you were frozen on the spot, left staring up at him as the young man pulls down his hood, revealing unruly locks of ebony hair and a kind smile to you.

"hey, i've been looking everywhere for you."

his tone had a hint of an accent on it, but you couldn't deny that his english was impeccable. his presence made you feel butterflies all across your abdomen, and you weren't sure why that was.

"d-do i know you?"

you hear his rich chuckle echoing throughout the campus as he steps closer to you, allowing his large hand to gently touch at your cheek in an almost tender manner.

he whispers your name all while tracing at your bottom lip with his thumb.

"you do know me... i think you know me better than anyone else in the entire universe."

you then trail your gaze up to his eyes, only to see the perfect grey quality of them.

"sung jinwoo?!" his name comes out as a shock to you, yet before you could even fully process it, he takes you in his arms, allowing you to bury your face within his chest as a sense of relief courses through him.

"you have no idea how utterly lost i felt without you... how much my life had gone stale the moment you had said your goodbyes to me."

words were unable to come from your parted lips, your breathing coming out in ragged gasps as you suddenly felt the tears dot your vision. unable to deny the love you still held for him, you allow your arms to wrap around his back-

almost greedily.

"y-you know who i am?"

jinwoo's chuckle was a light one, and you felt something soft touching at the top of your hair when he admits to you.

"ashborn showed me your actions through the system... and once i realized how you were always there for me, i knew that i could not let you go."

he gently pulls you away from his chest, his eyes filled with emotion as tears streamed down his cheek, "i know that it was selfish of me, giving up everything that i have known just to be with you-

b-but in the end, it was worth it because i know that no one loves me like you do."

unable to hide back your happiness, you lean up to meet with his parted lips in a searing kiss. you could taste the saltiness of his tears as he held on to you, not daring to let you go as you basked in the arms of the man who loved you enough to give up everything he had ever known-

a man who would choose to cross universes, just to be with you.

a.n. - damn, this story was 5k words 🥹 but i hope that this was a story that you dreamt of, sweet reader of mine; one that would help put your daydreams to rest as i tried to bring each word to life. this is unedited, but i promise i'll make any edits after i post this absolute masterpiece of a request

all stories are written by rei; reposts, translations, and plagiarism are not allowed.

#sung jinwoo x reader #jinwoo sung x reader #sung jinwoo x you #jinwoo sung x you #solo leveling x reader #sung jinwoo #jinwoo sung #.stories

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highladyandromeda · 24 days

Text

Shadows of the Heart

Part 6

Azriel x Fem!Reader

Summary: After years apart, Y/n returns to Velaris, bearing the weight of sacrifice and secrets from her past. Reunited with Rhysand and his Inner Circle, she navigates the complexities of rekindled friendships and unresolved tensions.

WC: 3.6k

Warnings: mentions of wounds hurting, but nothing particularly graphic but it is located on the arm.

[Prologue], [Part 1], [Part 2], [Part 3], [Part 4], [Part 5]

The House of Wind, perched high above the glittering city of Velaris, offered a view that could steal the breath from the lungs of gods and fae alike. Yet, the sight of the ten thousand stairs winding down to the city dimmed the splendor of the vista before Y/n. Memories of youthful races with Rhys and his sister, of nights spent laughing under the stars until they were too intoxicated to winnow home, brought a nostalgic smile to her lips. There was a particular memory, hazed with the fog of drunken mirth, of them staggering up these very stairs, each step a battle against gravity and their swirling heads, pausing periodically to empty their stomachs into the bushes that edged the ascent.

She considered, not for the first time, leveraging those memories to coax Rhys—or even Mor—into assisting her down, no questions asked.

Cassian, too, would have offered a lift without a second thought, especially after her rigorous training session with the Valkyries that morning. But admitting, even silently, that she couldn't manage on her own was a concession Y/n wasn't ready to make. Not after her display of strength and defiance the day before. Her pride, stubborn and fierce, whispered warnings that Rhys and Mor would see right through her, and Cassian...well, Cassian might not connect the dots immediately, but word would spread.

Biting her lip, Y/n weighed her options. It was only ten thousand steps. She wasn't so frail, so weary, that the descent seemed insurmountable—though the unhealed cut on her arm begged to differ. She had concealed it beneath thin bindings and a long-sleeved blouse of pale blue, cropped at the waist and chosen in the hopes it wouldn't appear too out of place on such a warm, sun-kissed day.

"Are you headed to town?"

Y/n looked behind, half-expecting to find Azriel clad in his typical leathers, silently admonishing herself for letting him surprise her once more. Instead, she found herself caught off-guard by the casual attire he donned—a black pair of pants and a navy shirt loosely tucked in, revealing a hint of his Illyrian tattoos at the v-neck. Her gaze lingered a moment too long, tracing the intricate designs across his skin and the way his shirt clung to the contours of his well-defined chest.

Azriel's smirk, a rare break in his stoic facade, acknowledged her wandering gaze. Before the silence stretched too thin, he offered, "Would you like a ride?"

The question hung between them, weighted with unspoken implications. Y/n turned back to the stairs, the vast descent looming before her.

"Y/n?" His call, soft yet insistent, pulled her back from the edge of her thoughts.

He had stepped closer, almost as if drawn by her hesitation.

"No...I mean, no thank you, Azriel,"

At the uncertainty in his gaze, she felt the need to elaborate, “I wouldn’t want to hold you up, I’ll go myself just…a bit later”

Her excuse sounded thin even to her ears, yet Azriel's offer remained, undeterred by her wavering resolve. "It would be my pleasure to escort you. They say the view is even more spectacular by air."

Y/n seized the opportunity, masking her relief with a playful curiosity. "They?"

Azriel's cheeks tinged with red, his words stumbling over themselves. "You know, Mor, Nesta, Elai—" His voice faltered, a rare display of vulnerability.

"Very well," Y/n conceded, allowing him a graceful escape from his flustered explanation. "I wouldn't want to be late for our meeting. And, I suppose it's been ages since I've seen Velaris from above. Only if it's no bother to you."

"No, it's no bother at all," Azriel assured her, his words tumbling out with an eagerness he couldn't mask.

Y/n positioned herself, lifting her arms in readiness. Azriel's touch was gentle yet firm as he lifted her, a care in his hold that sent an unexpected warmth flooding through her. She wrapped her arms around his neck, resisting the urge to draw closer, to seek comfort in the strength of his embrace.

Instead, her eyes traced the tattoos she had glimpsed before, a silent admiration for the art that marked his skin. Around them, Azriel's shadows danced with a life of their own, keeping her secure and holding her hair from flailing in the wind.

In the silence that enveloped them, Y/n could discern the faint, rapid beating of Azriel's heart, its rhythm slightly too hurried for an Illyrian warrior on a leisurely flight. But Y/n kept her thoughts to herself, knowing that her heart was perhaps skipping as well.

Upon reaching the bustling heart of the town, Azriel gently descended, allowing Y/n to stand on her own. His arms reluctantly released her, a sense of loss washing over him as the warmth of her presence receded.

"Thanks for the ride, Azriel," her gratitude lit up her features with a warm smile.

"It was my pleasure," he managed to reply, his voice steadier than his racing heart.

Seizing the moment before doubt could diminish his resolve, he found himself suggesting, "If you'd like, I could show you around as well... around Velaris and its newer sights, after you're done with your errands, of course."

Y/n paused, her gaze sweeping over the town's lively expanse before settling back on him. "I'd like that," she agreed, a softness in her voice that coaxed a hopeful glimmer in Azriel's eyes.

"It's been so long since I've seen Velaris, I’ll meet you back here in an hour?”

As she stepped away, Azriel realized then, with startling clarity, that he had no actual business in the town. Yet, the prospect of spending more time with Y/n, of reintroducing her home seemed like the most significant task of all.

He should use this period to plan. To think about the places in Velaris that would spark interest in her eyes, the hidden corners and new developments he'd watched over from the shadows. It wasn't just about filling the time; it was about crafting moments that might bridge the gap between them.

As he lingered in thought, Azriel's attention was momentarily drawn to his shadows, which had, unbeknownst to him, begun to reach out towards Y/n's departing figure, specifically curling towards her left arm. With a subtle command, he reeled them back, a silent acknowledgment of her right to privacy. Despite his longing for closeness, he respected the boundaries between them, even those unseen.

Y/n was ashamed to admit it, but she double-checked every reflection she saw, cautious of any lurking shadows. The idea of anyone, particularly Azriel, tracing her steps to this particular location filled her with unease. Besides, she was embarrassed at the several missed turns it took before she finally arrived at her destination. Velaris had indeed changed; the streets still boasted their characteristic cobblestone pathways and white marble houses with green roofs. Yet, the atmosphere was distinctly different—teeming with fae from all corners of Prythian. It was a strange notion, to feel like a stranger in the land she had once called her home.

This sandstone building, however, was unchanged, just as she remembered it from all those years ago, tucked away in a nondescript corner. The walls were still lined with shelves that reached up to the high ceilings, each crammed with jars and bottles of varying shapes and sizes, filled with mixtures of different herbs. In the center of the room, cozy couches were draped with handwoven throws inviting patrons to sit and bask in the tranquility of the space. The soft glow of lanterns cast a gentle light, already comforting her tense nerves.

“Just a moment!” she heard stepping in, before being greeted by a High Fae woman with dark skin, spindrift hair now touched with grey, and brown eyes that still sparkled with an inner warmth, despite the new wrinkles framing them.

The shock of recognition was mutual. “Y/n?” the woman exclaimed.

“Madja! It’s been too long,” Y/n said, moving in for a hug.

They embraced warmly before Madja pulled back, eyeing her with a mix of suspicion and affection. “It’s never been good when you’ve entered this store,” she remarked, an eyebrow arched in playful admonition.

Y/n laughed, the sound mingling with a sense of nostalgia. “Rhys and I weren't that bad, were we?” she quipped, attempting to deflect.

“Oh no,” Madja shot back with a smile, “You both were absolutely terrible.” Her tone softened, betraying the fondness behind her words.

Memories of past injuries, ranging from the ridiculous outcomes of foolish dares to the more serious wounds acquired during brutal training sessions, flashed through Y/n’s mind. She nodded, conceding the point. “But you were always there for us,” she said, gratitude lacing her voice.

"Yes, always there—mostly wondering which of you would walk in next, and whether I'd need a broom or a stretcher."

Then Madja’s expression turned more serious. “How can I help you today, Y/n?”

Fidgeting, Y/n glanced around the shop before responding. “I’m just here to look at some herbs...” Her voice trailed off, unconvincing even to her own ears.

Madja’s gaze narrowed slightly, but not unkindly. “Planning to brew your own tonic, are we?” she teased before adding, “If you need something for sleep or pain, I can prepare it for you. Discreetly, of course.”

Caught off guard, Y/n hesitated, then muttered something about merely experimenting in her free time. However, to divert Madja’s prying eyes, she offered a truth and quickly agreed to the offer of a sleep tonic. “Yes, that...my insomnia has been relentless lately.”

Madja nodded, her expression softening into one of understanding. “I’ll prepare something for you. No one needs to know,” she assured.

While Madja busied herself, Y/n’s gaze wandered across the shelves, laden with jars of herbs, vials of potions, and artifacts of healing and magic, feeling a bit overwhelmed. She’d never admit it out loud, but her alchemy and potions for healing weren’t particularly up to par. For poison, well she already clocked 5 different ones she could create from the herbs she’d be able to identify thus far.

But for healing, and particularly for a wound that she’d not thought twice about before, with her magic and fae heritage naturally taking care of it; she realized then that she should have made a stop at a bookstore or visited the library this morning.

By the time she had gathered the herbs she hoped would do, Madja returned, handing Y/n a small, unmarked vial.

“Take two drops before bed,” she instructed, her voice low. “And Y/n,” she added, her eyes meeting the sorceress's, “whatever you’re facing, remember you’re not alone. Velaris isn’t just a city; it’s home.

Y/n’s heart clenched at the sincerity in Madja’s words. “Thank you, Madja,” she said, her voice thick with gratitude. She paid for the tonic and her bundle, seeing Madja’s impartial glance as a sign that she hadn’t chosen anything too offputting.

Stepping out of the shop, Y/n took a deep breath, the air of Velaris filling her lungs, mingling with the scents of the river and the blooming night flowers. The city might have changed, but its essence, the heart of it, remained the same—a haven for the lost, the brave, and those in need of healing.

As the agreed time approached, Azriel's gaze was constantly drawn towards the path Y/n would emerge from. The anticipation had woven a tapestry of nerves and excitement within him, a feeling unfamiliar yet thrilling. His shadows, ever-present companions, danced around him with an energy that mirrored his own. When they alerted him to her presence, a wave of something akin to relief washed over him.

She was making her way towards him, her steps confident, yet he noticed something different—a bag clutched in her hand, an addition to her ensemble.

Curiosity piqued, Azriel couldn't help but ask about the bag as soon as greetings were exchanged. "What's in the bag? If you don't mind me asking," he inquired, his tone light, trying to mask the depth of his curiosity and concern.

Y/n glanced down at the bag, a playful smirk dancing on her lips. "Oh, just some cosmetics," she joked, her voice laced with humor. "I felt my complexion still looks very pallid. Thought I might need a touch-up if I continue to stay in the illustrious night court."

Azriel, taken aback by her answer yet finding it endearing, responded without hesitation, his voice sincere. "You look beautiful, Y/n. You don't need anything more for that."

The moment the words left his mouth, a warm flush of embarrassment colored his cheeks, mirroring the blush that bloomed on Y/n's face. Azriel couldn’t help but feel pleased with her reaction, though he tried to ignore how he longed to see where else that rosy hue would appear.

Seeking to recover from the moment, Azriel cleared his throat softly, gesturing towards the city. "Shall we begin our tour? Velaris has much to offer, and I'd like to show you everything I've planned."

Y/n nodded, her smile bright, the earlier blush still present but accompanied now by a look of genuine happiness. "I'd love that, Azriel. Lead the way."

As they ventured into the heart of Velaris, Azriel found himself sharing stories and lore of the city, each tale carefully chosen to entertain or spark curiosity in Y/n. He noticed how her eyes lit up with each new sight, her laughter more melodious to his ears than any music. It was as if, with her by his side, Velaris transformed into an even more magical place, its beauty magnified through her presence.

“It’s said that this fountain,” Azriel gestured to an ornate structure, water dancing under the sun’s fading glow, “was built by a high lord as a tribute to his mate’s beauty, which he believed surpassed even that of the Night Court’s stars.”

Y/n’s laughter, light and infectious, filled the air. “A high bar for beauty,” she remarked, her gaze lingering on the play of light over water. “Do you think such comparisons are fair, comparing someone to the stars?”

Azriel found himself caught in the depth of her gaze, her curiosity igniting his own. “Perhaps not fair, but it speaks to the beholder's awe. Don’t we all aspire to find a love like that, where the connection is so intense, that it could rival the stars?

But just as their souls seemed on the verge of whispering secrets only the heart could hear, the boisterous cry of a vendor shattered the stillness.

"Delicacies of the night! Taste the wonders of Velaris!" His voice, loud and full of life, tore through the tender veil of connection they had cocooned themselves within.

In an instant, the world rushed back in—a flood of sounds and lights, washing away the moment of intense closeness they had found. They were left adrift, surrounded by the vibrant chaos of the night market, the poignant ache of a moment lost too soon lingering in the air between them.

The day gave way to evening almost without notice, hours spent in exploration and shared discovery.

Azriel led her through the vibrant heart of Velaris, showcasing the city's architectural marvels—the four Palaces. They spent the most time at the Palace of Thread and Jewels, a bustling market square alive with the hum of creative energy. Here, amidst stalls adorned with fabrics that whispered tales of distant lands and jewelry that sparkled with the promise of untold stories, Y/n came alive in a way Azriel hadn't seen before.

He watched, fascinated, as she engaged with the vendors, her knowledge of gems and textiles flowing effortlessly, her eyes lighting up with each piece she examined. Her hands, graceful and assured, would trace the lines of cloth, her touch eliciting stories from silk and satin alike.

In one of those quiet moments, shared over a stall draped in velvets and brocades, Y/n turned to Azriel, a softness in her eyes. "When I was much younger," she confessed, "I dreamt of being a fashion designer. I wanted to create clothes that weren't just worn but experienced—garments that would steal the breath from those who beheld them."

Azriel's gaze softened as he listened, the ambient noises of the marketplace fading into the background. "That's a beautiful dream," he responded, his voice low and thoughtful. "The clothes we wear can speak volumes, tell stories, and even protect us. Your designs could have done all that and more, I believe."

She laughed, a sound that mingled with the evening air, rich and full of possibilities. "Maybe in another life, Azriel. For now, I'm content with my path, though it's nice to dream a little."

As they continued to explore the stalls, Azriel couldn't help but see the market—and Y/n—in a new light. Every thread, every jewel, seemed to hold a piece of the dream she had shared with him. And in that moment, he made a silent vow to himself to support her dreams, in whatever form they might take, hoping that they could come true with him at her side.

As the gallery’s doors closed behind them, Azriel realized the day had slipped away into the evening, the sky a canvas of deep blues and purples. “You must be hungry after our day,” he said, the thought striking him with sudden concern. “Would you join me for dinner?”

The smile Y/n offered in response, wide and genuine, set his heart racing. “I’d love to, Azriel. Thank you.”

Choosing a quaint restaurant known for its exquisite cuisine and intimate ambiance, Azriel had such joy when she accepted his invitation. However, as they approached the entrance, he reached out to gently guide her by the arm, a gesture meant to be polite. To his surprise, she recoiled—a flash of discomfort shadowing her features.

Throughout dinner, Azriel couldn’t shake off the feeling that he had overstepped, his mind replaying the moment she flinched. Despite the array of dishes that graced their table, she barely touched her food, her usual spark dimmed to a quiet reserve.

“Y/n, if I did something earlier to upset you, I apologize. It wasn’t my intention,” he ventured, hoping to bridge the silence that had settled between them.

Y/n shook her head, offering a small smile. “No, Azriel, you didn’t do anything wrong. I’m just not very hungry tonight, that’s all.”

Despite her reassurance, Azriel couldn’t help but feel a gnawing insecurity for the rest of the evening, wondering what unseen barriers still lay between them. The night that had started with laughter and shared secrets now seemed cloaked in a quiet tension, and Azriel found himself wishing for the ability to read her thoughts, to understand her silence.

As they stepped out of the restaurant into the velvet night, the streets of Velaris were bathed in the soft glow of starlight and lamplights, casting ethereal shadows around them. Azriel, still filled with guilt from the earlier incident, searched for words to lighten the mood and make amends. He longed to suggest they fly back, to offer her the breathtaking views of Velaris by night from the sanctuary of his arms. Yet, the memory of her recoiling from his touch echoed loudly in his mind, a reminder of the boundaries he feared to overstep again.

With a heavy heart, he proposed instead to winnow them back, a quicker, less intimate mode of travel. "We can winnow back, but it's a bit of a drop—we'll land on the balcony. I'll need to hold you for just a moment to manage the descent," he explained, trying to mask his disappointment.

Y/n, fiddling with her bag, offered a small nod, her voice quiet.

"That's fine. I'll just hold onto your arm. I should be okay with the drop," she replied, the simplicity of the arrangement failing to hide the distance it imposed.

As they landed with soft thuds on the balcony, Azriel couldn't help but notice how the moonlight painted Y/n's features, highlighting her beauty yet highlighting her pallor. She thanked him, her voice a whisper against the night, as she turned to leave. The urge to reach out, to bridge the space between them with a touch, surged within him, but he halted, his fingers hovering mere breaths away from her shoulder. "I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable earlier," he found himself saying again, the words heavy with unspoken feelings.

Y/n shook her head, a gesture of dismissal or perhaps forgiveness, Azriel couldn't tell. "I'm just tired, that's all. The day finally caught up to me," she offered, her voice carrying a fatigue that went beyond the physical.

The silence that followed was filled with things unsaid, with Azriel's silent plea for understanding and Y/n's unspoken reassurances. When he hesitantly asked if she was still alright with him assisting her with her research, she nodded, her agreement to meet at the library the next day offering a glimmer of hope, a possibility of redemption.

As she retreated into the night, leaving Azriel alone with his thoughts on the balcony, he watched her go with a sense of loss.

A/N: Hi eveyone!! So I'm not really sure how I feel about this chapter. Tbh I had a lot of writer's block and I wasn't really sure where I wanted Y/n and azriel to go during these chapters. But I do LOVE a blushing Az!!!

I have plans for future chapters and I really want to add in some more snippets about Y/n and Rhys as children and teenagers, messing and playing around with each other. Let me know if you have any ideas you'd want to read!

For my tag list, I tagged everyone who asked and those who commented on the previous parts. If you'd like to be included, please just let me know. 💕

TAGLIST: @strangelygreat @enfppuff @trip-n-sal @inloveallthetime @annamariereads16 @mybestfriendmademe @mariahoedt @annblvd @ania-swissweet @yearninglustfully @sleepylunarwolf @quiettuba @gorlillaglue25 @lilah-asteria @naturakaashi @sillymercury @itsswritten @xlosttdreamss @kennedy-brooke @xyzmeh @lucky7rosie @copenhagenspirit @collide-with-the-music @starsinyourseyes @dianxiaxiexie @maybefoxysouls @golden-canyon @violet-potter @thisiskaylin @acphengene @katherinejess @sevikas-whore @kalulakunundrum @hibye02 @madscamp02 @willowpains @jaybarding @kalulakunundrum @sevikas-whore @katherinejess @acphengene @thisiskaylin @herondale-lightworm @5onedirection5 @namelesssav

#azriel x reader #azriel shadowsinger #azriel au #azriel x y/n #acotar series #acotar #acomaf #acowar #azriel x oc #rhysand #morrigan #acotar fanfiction #azriel acotar #lucien vanserra

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vnmpior · 1 year

Note

okay.. can i ask for leon cockwarming you????11&2×*×* as a punishment? I SAW THAT ONE POST THAT LEON WOULD DO THAT THINKING ABOUT IT MAKES ME WANT TO READ ONE

YOU ASKED FOR IT

LEON KENNEDY (re4) x reader

note — I GOT TO THIS REQUEST SO LATE. i don't think i've read the post of him doing that but whoever wrote it is doing a service to everyone in the world. i don't know what game leon you want me to write about so i'll do re4make (i'm holding myself back from making it id leon). + i suck at writing punishment smut especially w this type of punishment.

tags — nsfw, porn w a hint of plot, badly written smut, slight praise, teasing, fem bodied reader, cockwarming obviously, use of pretty girl and baby

i am not responsible for any minors interacting w this post - nsfw under the cut

not proofread.

"le-mmph, leon, wait," you tried prying away the hand that was currently in between your thighs, his fingers teasing your sopping cunt.

"hm?" he hummed. "what, you want me to stop?"

you shook your head quickly. "just slow down," you mumbled out. you didn't want carlos to hear, who was downstairs sleeping, staying over since he was too drunk to drive home from the bar.

"i haven't even done anything yet, and you already want me to slow down?" he cooed. his free hand trailed up and down your thigh, sending shivers down your spine.

your clothes had been discarded on the floor as soon as the two of you had made it to your room, leon still in his fitted shirt that had you staring at him longer than usual.

"you can tell me to slow down, but you can't tell carlos to keep his hands to himself?" he questioned, his hand making his way from your thigh to your chin, turning your head to face him.

"we were just talking," you struggled to get out as leon momentarily slid a finger in you, curling it before stopping.

"just talking? did you see the way he looked at you? i bet he was wishing that he was in my spot right now."

now that you really thought about it, you realized how many times he left lingering touches on the small of your back and arm, eyeing you up and down in your satin dress.

"i don't want him, i want you," you whimpered out.

"well, is that what he thinks? he probably thinks that he can get you in his bed in no time." leon furrowed his eyebrows, a shadow cast over his eyes. "i guess i'll just have to make it obvious you're mine."

he pressed your body closer to his, and buried his face in your neck, nipping at you. he finally resumed moving his fingers in and out of your cunt and a rapid pace, causing you to claw at his back.

the sound of squelching mixed with your moans and gasps had leon holding back from just outright fucking you right then and there. "let it all out baby." he praised.

"you gonna cum for me sweetheart? you gonna be loud enough so carlos can hear who you belong to?" he curled his fingers up to that certain spongey spot which led you to buck your hips up and throw your head back.

"answer me," he prodded at your g-spot, and you muffled a moan.

"y-yes leon," you stammered out.

"you want my fingers or my cock?" leon smirked as you whined when he stopped moving his fingers.

"wan' you in me." your hips grinded against his hand, which he quickly drew away to unbuckle his jeans, which he looked uncomfortably tight in, the tent obvious.

he chuckled at you clenching around nothing, and slowly he slowly pushed himself in your entrance, letting out a drawn out groan. you arched your back as leon gathered both of your wrists into his grip and held them above your head. you struggled for a bit before remembering the strength difference.

"you wanna touch me?" he teased.

you nodded, lips parted and eyes half lidded.

"mm, alright," he let your hands drop down, and you wrapped your hands around his waist, expecting him to start his typical brutal pace, but instead, he flipped you around so you were on top, as if you were about to ride him.

that's what you thought, lifting your hips up, only for leon to grip your hips with bruising strength and slam you back down, you letting out a surprised moan.

"didn't you want to go slow, baby?" he traced shapes along your hipbone and lower thigh. "you think i'd just fuck you and it'd be over?"

"please, leon, please," your voice cracked as you begged for him to let you move

"i love listening to you beg, pretty girl, but don't you think it'd be a reward? i don't think you deserve a reward." he shook his head.

you whined, moving around as much as you could, which was pretty little with his big, strong hands holding you down.

"how about this. you don't move until i say you can, and i'll do whatever you want me to do for you, alright baby?" you knew that either you agreed and get what you wanted, or disagree and he'd still make you do it and you wouldn't get anything in the end.

"fine," you said, lying down on his chest, leon loosening his hold on you.

you were trying so hard not to move, but you couldn't stop yourself from trembling and tightening around his thick cock. occasionally you'd slightly grind down on him, and you knew this wasn't going unnoticed.

"do that one more time, and i'll make sure you don't get to cum for the rest of this month," he threatened, and you felt his fingers slowly dig into your skin. you were definitely bruising after this.

it felt like hours passed. you didn't know how leon wasn't pressing your legs up against your chest and fucking the shit out of you, but he seemed relaxed. especially compared to you, tense and squirming around.

"something wrong?" he raised an eyebrow, a mischievous glint in his eye.

"want you to fuck me so bad," you murmured against his chest.

"hmm," he pretended to think. "maybe."

you pouted, eyes tearing up from not getting the pleasure that you want so bad.

"is my pretty girl about to cry? aww," he mocked you, the sweet voice he had shadowing the teasing nature of the sentence. you felt your slick pool at the base of his crotch.

"i should make it more obvious that you're mine, so you won't have to go through this again, huh? you don't want to get punished again, right princess?"

"yes, yes. just please, can you please fuck me," you pleaded, hands scrambling to the top of his shoulders.

"if i fuck you, I wanna hear my name come out of those pretty lips of yours, baby. let carlos know what he doesn't get to have."

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wlfpet · 1 year

Note

Abby choking reader with her biceps!

AN; Sorry this took so long, its been killing me for fucking ever and I got stumped. Somehow I found a way to write something I could be a little bit proud of, so I hope ya'll like it!

content tags: Asphyxiation (2 in a combat context, one in an erotic context. r! receiving all three times,) fingering (r!receiving,) cunnilingus (r!receiving,) a normally degrading pet name used in a sexual context, abby is kind of mean in the beginning but warm sup at the end, reader is one of like a billion orphans that live in the tlouverse, sadge. mediocre action scenes. breast play (r!receiving,) abby gives r slurp and she didn't even pull her pants down

wc: 6.4k (woah...)

proofread?: i've rewritten this 4 times and never want to see it again.

The forest was dark and cold, wind whipping around you, through you, as you traversed deeper into darkness. It was getting dark, your radio had died a long time ago, and it had been hours since you had seen a WLF stronghold, or a stationary transceiver to call for help on. Your assignment was entry-level, sweep the grounds in WLF territory for any raider camps or pockets of traveling scars, but you were separated from your squad, and now, without any way to communicate with them, you had to find your own way back to the FOB before nightfall. You were turned around, in scar territory, alone; following the moon, sidearm drawn in your trembling hands. There was a ringing in your ears, cut only by the bumping of your anxious heart; pitifully, you wouldn’t be able to hear the cracking of rustling leaves and snapping twigs underfoot over the sound of your own fear.

There was a great cry as a shadow swung into your vision. You missed the blow narrowly, sliding backward as a body lurched into your vision. It rushed you, taking you by surprise, causing you to stumble as your pistol arm shot up wildly in the tight grip of your attacker. There wasn’t enough time for reaction, and before you knew it, you were carrying their weight. The two of you were thrashing, a bloody tug of war through the bushes and debris, you were fighting, the way that one fights before they die. It was a tornado of bodies, a cacophony of screams the clatter of a gun hitting the floor, and then the blackness of being blind as your head slammed into the trunk of a tree. Thick blood and spit shot from your mouth as you crumpled to the forest floor with a heavy thud, seeing stars.

You fought unconsciousness as you tried to regain your footing, but your assailant was too fast, grabbing by the collar of your jacket and dragging you across the tractionless, muddy ground. You were chest to the ground, pressed down with the full weight of two people as a hand fisted through your hair, holding your face to the dirt as you struggled with the last of your remaining power.

“Fuck– no, get the fuck off of me–!” You screamed, thrashing wildly on the ground, your torso pinned. An arm hooked around your throat. Your hand slapped wildly at the ground, looking for something, anything that could grant you escape. There was nothing; but as your fingers inched out, there was your gun. Before you could sweep it into your grasp, pressure bulged against your eyes, crushing your throat, tightening the skin of your face. Hands flew up, spurred on by true survival instinct to claw at the scar’s flesh, but the leather of your brown utility gloves only pawed weakly at the clothed bicep. Your lips pulled into a grimace, blood rushing to your brain as you fell in and out of consciousness. Like sick irony, there was nothing; but then, pressed to your temple was the cold metal of your sidearm. Your eyes squeezed closed, anticipating the bang.

“This is the part where you’d end up getting your brains blown out with your own pistol, rook.” The arm currently strangling you loosened, freeing you from its grapple. The disembodied voice- no, it was very bodied, actually, and still laying across you- jostled your temple with the dummy gun, exploding in mock recoil as a sardonic ‘–pchew!’ blew against your ear. It lifted away from you and you finally had the space to expand your chest more than a couple of inches. You rolled over onto your back, drawing a deep, reactionary breath, soothing the throbbing skin of your neck with a hand.

The woman towering over you in the darkness grimaced, unimpressed, leaning her weight against the tree trunk she had just used to nearly brain you. Anderson was your training captain; ruthless, built like an ox, and the top soldier out of anyone in the WLF, right hand to the Big Man, and you fucking hated her.

She was an unforgiving mentor; running you on drills long after everyone went home, failing you, hard, and was dedicated to kicking your ass for real every time you had a sparring match. This, in fact, was your third field scenario attempt with Anderson, and they never got better; the first time, throwing dirt into your face and ‘slitting your throat,’ then it was ‘shooting’ you in your abdomen and finishing you off with another to the chest, and now? Taken out after getting ambushed in a dark forest and having your head blasted open. She’d suck her teeth, cracking the vertebrae in her neck with a terse, ‘that’s how it is in the field, kid’’ as you walked behind her, winded.

“That… wasn’t a pass, was it?” You choked out, scooching yourself across the wet mud to sit up, drawing harsh, ragged breaths.

Anderson wrenched up a brow at you, unimpressed. “You really need to be told that wasn’t a pass?”

The matter-of-fact tone she took left you dumbstruck, crushed, burning from the inside out of embarrassment, the heat nesting in your cheeks mingling from the stinging pain from the fight. You were humiliated and more importantly, you knew she was right. That you had shit the bed, going 0 and 3. You wouldn’t be getting promoted to assignments, and if you kept dragging your feet, you’d be reassigned. But you could convince her, you had to convince her. “But everyone else from my class made mistakes, and they– they still passed!” You tried to seem firm and level-headed, but your throat got tight all of a sudden, and your voice was whiny like a child’s.

“Doesn’t really matter to me. I don’t train everyone else from your class.” She blew out flippantly, not even meeting your eyes, barely giving your pleas the time of day. It was her job to push you past your limits, to see how far from your comfort zone you were willing to go. To see how badly you could be beaten before you talked, how long they could torture you with guns or knives or burns before you gave in. But right now? She was more irritated than anything, and the truth she was biting her tongue on was that you were a completely lost cause.

Anderson cut the distance between the two of you and leaned in, closer than ever, towering over you like it was easy, looking at you as if she was seeing you from the inside out. Her smirk faded, falling to her barely-masked anger as she kneaded together her lips. Your eyes brimmed with tears as hers filled with indignation, annoyance, like you were an itch she couldn’t scratch; perpetually pissing her off. “You don’t have a clue in the fucking world, do you? The reality of what they do in the open city you’re in such a rush to get out to? What they’ll do to a wolf, out there?”

You did know, or at least you had heard stories. It was all common; rookies overhearing what deployed soldiers would bring back from their rotation, then telephoning it back in the barracks before lights out. The stories were always the same, scouting duos going out deep into the unclaimed territory, never to come back. It was no man’s land. it was suicide. After some days, they would stop calling into WLF frequencies. After some weeks, a new unit would be sent behind them, stumbling upon the bloated, swinging bodies. it would take another three days for recovery to get them back to the FOB, they would get buried in a large plot of land at the back of the stadium, reserved only for soldiers. It was nothing special, but the ones that were too high up would just stay there. Sometimes, it would keep you up at night, honest. You looked at your feet, almost submissively, trying to hide the tears that were threatening to leak. She was right, you fucked up, you kept fucking up. You forced your tiny voice to speak. “I’m sorry, I ju–”

“This a fucking joke to you, YLN?”

You looked into her eyes, she was tired of you. Tired of your constant excuses, how you never seemed to improve, how everything you did wrong ended up coming down on her shoulders. You had gotten bounced around from training class to training class on account of repeated failures, and at some point, they threw you at Anderson’s feet. She protested, she didn’t do fucking charity work but of course, the task manager gave a bullshit excuse, saying that was the direct orders from the big man himself, that if anyone could “fix” you, it was her. You were always fucking around, lackadaisical, terrible at your job. Always cornering her before the end of evaluations, begging for a good word, begging for extra credit. They called you ’tornado’ because you kept busting your ass during physical drills, which turned into ‘twitch’ because you couldn’t stop your gun hand from shaking during on-field drills. You were picky, even, complaining about the smell of the barracks on your first day in training camp.

Your mouth was open, gobsmacked, tripping on syllables, tongue dry all of the sudden, too dry, and you tried to blink back the wetness in your eyes before it dampened your cheeks. You couldn’t say anything because there was nothing to say. “No, I just– no, this, this is really serious to me. It’s really important to me.”

“But you want me to pass you? So that you can get your whole squad killed? So that they can ship your bagged-up body to the morgue? Fine, then. I’ll pass you. See? ‘You passed,’ easy– since we just like bullshitting each other.” The woman deadpanned, shrugging her shoulders nonchalantly, muscles bobbing under her skin, eyes dangerous, fed up. The harsh words had you simmering over with a quiet rage; at yourself, for fucking up from the beginning, and at your coach, for always being so hard on you.

“You’re not ready, kid, and I don’t think I can help you, either. Want my advice? There are a lot of other jobs they’ll give you at the stadium, but whatever it is here that you think you’re cut out for– you’re not.” She spoke through a tight jaw, and you could almost imagine sadness in her voice, but that couldn’t be right. She turned on her heels, heading back to the jeep the two of you rode out on, not waiting for you to follow behind her.

–

If she was nothing else, Abigail Anderson was a woman of her word. You had gone to pick up your evaluation records early in the morning, while the stadium was still quiet and everyone in the barracks was still asleep. It had become an odd kind of spectator sport to see how many consecutive fails you could rack up from mentor to mentor. In turn, it had become your ritual to collect your papers and make them disappear before anyone could ask. Your hands were heavy as you cracked open the envelope, opened it, and gazed over the lettering. There was a boxed-in ‘Instructor: A. ANDERSON’ in the top corner, and your face burned remembering the cold lecture that brought you nearly to tears.

whatever it is here that you think you’re cut out for– you’re not.

You hated her for it. For always being on your ass, for making everything so damned difficult. But you were disappointed in yourself for thinking that it would be easy in the first place. Disappointed that years passed by, watching from the sidelines as literal teenagers were deployed before you. Deep down, you knew she was right, that you should give up; but your eyes widened when you saw it.

INTERIM FIELD EVALUATION: PASS.

She did it to spite you but you didn’t fucking care, it was one step closer out of the program. You paced around, giggling to yourself; if anyone was up to see you, they’d think you were fucking insane. But no one was awake, and you’d be back in bed before all rise, so it didn’t matter. so you pressed the paper to your chest, as though you could absorb it through your skin. Fucking pass; you could lay down on the floor and die right here. You had to look at it one more time, just to make sure you weren’t dreaming. So you did, eyes flying all across the paper, your first pass in months; no, years and all you had to do was cry a bit. Wonder if Anderson would let it slide all the way to deployment.

Then you saw it.

CADET TRANSFER REQUEST

CADET #549226

From A. ANDERSON

To V. CHUNG

Fuck.

–

“I don’t know what you’re complaining about. Chung will give you all the passes you want.” You were towering over Anderson, who lay flat on the weight bench, adjusting the bar of weights over her head, angling and curling herself in preparation. She didn’t meet your eyes, only looking over a second in irritation as she saw you burst into the then-empty gym. You had planned to give her a piece of your mind, or at least beg and plead. It wasn’t working. She was flippant in the way that she always was, how she could reduce all of your feelings to petty quips and take the air completely out of your sails at once. She lifted the bar, barely any effort showing up as a kink in her brow, pressing it to her chest and then dropping it back down onto the stand jutting out from either side. Her muscles rippled, a thin mask of sweat dusting over her and twinkling in the light

that was a soldier, and she reminded you of everything that you weren’t.

“It’s not just about the passes. Everyone just–” against your will, a lump formed in your throat, and you turned to the side so that she wouldn’t get the satisfaction of seeing you cry. “Everyone just fucking gives up on me.” You weren’t a stranger to being passed around, but it was something new that hurt; a unique level of disappointment at everything, at yourself, that made the tears pool and run down your face. Trained by the best of the best, and you still couldn’t hack it.

It really was a dead-end for you.

Everyone knew the jokes and the rumours of the cadet that just couldn’t make it, but nobody could pinpoint just why, no matter how hard life kicked you, you wouldn’t give up.

Being a child in a QZ was hard. None of you were happy, or living particularly well, but you had your family, and small joys, Until it all fell down, until FEDRA abandoned one post for another and you were left, a child, at the mercy of the world. You blew around, another fringe society, another QZ. Those fell too, and the only thing you could remember some nights was that everyone was gone now, and it was just you. That was when you joined the WLF. Because you wanted to save the world because it was your only choice.

You tried to work hard, waking up extra early to run drills, trying to build up your form or your reflexes against all odds. You were like a fish, the way you could hold your breath underwater. Your pistol hand still shook from the chronic anxiety of the life you had lived before, but you could take your sidearm apart and put it back together faster than anyone else. But nobody ever noticed those things, just your fuck ups. Nobody saw you, just saw twitch, or tornado, just a compendium of everything you couldn’t be.

If you couldn’t do anything else, then maybe the suffering you went wasn’t worth it. Maybe what happened to you was just common. You *had* to be a hero.

Or die a martyr.

The words rolled out before you could stop them, and you were blubbering, tears rolling down your face, a thick coating of snot and drool coating your lips and chin as you sunk down, crying. Your hands fisted that damned form, crumpling it, and it rippled and burst under your fingers. This really was pathetic of you, groveling and begging at the feet of a woman who didn’t care, and deep down you were still planning your strategy of how to exit this room now that you firmly couldn’t play it off. You couldn’t face her anymore, or anyone, for that matter because Anderson would definitely talk. Your only option was to defect, ride out at dawn with nothing but the clothes on your back, no, dig a hole in the stadium and live there, with nothing but a straw in your mouth for breathing, no, shit idea, maybe you should just swan dive off the high side of the FOB and save yourself all the trouble, no, mayb–

“Kid.”

And you were still talking, like a dumbass. “–and i know i fucked up but– if you could give me one more chance i just need one more chance you don’t understand how much this means to me how important this is to me– please i’ll do anything and i get it if you just want me to get the hell out of your way but i just thought i just thought i could i just really really”

“Kid, stop talking,” Anderson was holding your hands gently in her own. Looking up at you from her now seated position. There was still the ever-so-slight crook of indignation in her brow, but she was speaking to you, gently, leniently. She felt bad, and there was a black spot of shame growing on her back from how she had treated you.

She was remorseful, and there was a dark spot of shame growing on her conscience for how she had treated you. She was hard on you because you were just going through the motions and cutting corners a lot of the time, but there was a determination that hadn’t yet been broken down and you were dogged, like she was once; and deep down, she did have a soft spot for your annoying ass.

“I’ll help you. I’ll help you out” Anderson spit out, watching a spark ignite in your watery eyes. Before you got too excited, she put her hand up, holding all of your hopes in midair for just a moment. “But– fuck, stop crying. Thought I was gonna have to get you on a damn psych watch.”

You nodded jerkily, exposed once again in front of her, wiping your tears with the sleeve of your thermal shirt, a windy inhale passing through your nose and dislodging the mucus in your throat. “Shit– fuck, fuck. Sorry.”

Anderson stood from the bench, barely giving you time to react before she angled into a striking position, feet shoulder-width apart, planted firmly on the rubber floor. Her fists were clenched, muscles working in her arms and making her look ten times bigger as she stalked around you, chin down, scanning for an open. “What are you waiting for,” she chided, cracking her neck to the side. It was weird, like she was trying to… encourage you? “Scenario three, from last week– remember?”

Then she advanced, walking you backwards into an empty space in the room, striking at your head before you had a chance to react. You swooped down, diving under her extended arm to barely miss the shot that probably would’ve knocked you out.

“Put your hands up, rook– they’re not gonna wait for you.” Anderson grunted and slammed down with locked elbows; this was your in– and you charged, albeit off balance to make the first connection, a glancing blow to her chin. The two of you fought around the room, exchanging blows and blocks, kicks and punches. Somehow, you had managed your way into her blindspot and swung to try and land a grapple around her neck with an impassioned “I got you!”

It was then, like a flash of light that your arm was intercepted and you were turned over onto your knees, Anderson crouched beside you squeezing your neck in a submission hold. Her bicep pressed into your throat, that ragged pressure that tightened every muscle in your body and turned on that sheer animal instinct to survive. You clawed above you, nails catching on the flesh of her exposed chest.

“You don’t have to announce it, its not a damn movie.” She spoke, trailing off into a whisper. It was all over, you did it again, miraculously continuing your 0-for-infinity losing streak.

But she let you go, and it was crazy but you swore that her hand lingered in your hair for a second as she stepped away. You laid on the ground, heaving. Anderson looked over you, looking at the rapidly darkening red welts on your throat, bruises on bruises layered from yesterday night. In the back of her mind, she could hear laughter, a conversation over drinks while her team was on recess.

“You’re fuckin’ brutal on the kid, Anderson. Trying to kill her?” Chung laughed, taking a heavy swig from his beer. A hand clapped against her shoulder from behind, swaying her from side to side, sloshing liquid out of her cup and onto the wooden table they were gathered around. Before she could protest Manny’s voice cut through the raucous laughter ringing off the walls.

“Bet you two shift swaps that Abs makes YLN drop out of the program before deployment!” He cried, drunk off his ass, jabbing his finger in any general direction before loosening his spider monkey-like grip. Abby’s back burned, her jaw clenching unconsciously with thinly veiled anger, they were her friends, but fuck these guys, honestly. She forced a coy smile, becoming the face of drunken jest.

“You guys fucking done?” She tried to conceal the sound of her discomfort with a laugh, but it was tight and terse and frankly, after years together anyone at the roundtable could pick up on her unconscious cues.

“What, Abs, going soft on us? Or maybe… you’re tryna’ catch another type of body– huh? huh?”

—

She watched you, fisting your hands together on the floor in a quiet sort of frustration. Tears threatened to pool in your eyes but you blinked them back, cutting your eye at her for a split second and then looking away. It was embarrassing, of course, but at this point, you were defeated. Anderson sat down beside you, hooking her hand under your arm and lifting you to sit upright.

“Anderson I–”

“–just, Abby.” She whispered, palming your knee, trying her best to commit to her insurmountable task: being comforting. The woman watched as your face tensed up and then went slack as you dug teeth into your bottom lip, looking off into nothing. “It’s not going to matter more, just because you die. You know that, right?” You didn’t speak. Nails ran skittishly against your shirt as you ran your hands up and down your arms, trying to self-soothe, unable to hide your grimace.

“Yeah.” You nodded slowly, as though you were trying to stave off your own denial. “Yeah.”

The hand on your knee became firmer, heavier as it stroked over your skin, her thumb rubbing a small circle where it began to meet your thigh. “I was serious– when I was talking about other jobs, you know? You can just live a good life, and that can be enough. There’s nothing waiting for you outside of the wall, kid.”

If it were anyone else, you could’ve been angry, you would’ve lashed out; but it was coming from someplace real, one of the only times you had ever seen Anderson– Abby, be anything more than a cold, stony prick. She had been stern with you because she saw herself in that tiny rage you had, the anger just below the surface that she could see in your eyes right at this moment. Because when you’re that driven about anything, the only certain thing to look forward to is a darkness that keeps on coming. It was the hard realisation, and you swallowed heavy. “Guess not.”

There was a vulnerability in the air, and before you knew it, you were leaning into her touch, pressing your body to hers, side to side. Your superior didn’t move, didn’t keen away or tell you off, just sat there, never stopping the motion of her hand. It was a long silence between the two of you, but then she stopped, began to stand, and like your body wasn’t yours you grabbed her arm, willing her to stay without a single spoken word. There was this weird, small flash on her face that you couldn’t place, until she just nodded, using her strength to lift you to your feet as well.

“Coming?” Was all that she said, and you nodded. Yeah.

–

It was what you had always wanted, the big luxury box in the sky. It was as though you could see everything from your place at the window of Abby’s room, the barracks, where everyone was still sleeping tucked in the corner behind the greenhouse, the sun slowly overtaking the dark sky, the very tops of the skyscraper tucked into the clouds, the FOB, overlooking everything ominously.

“It’s all yours?” you asked, no higher than a murmur as you looked through the parted curtains.

“And Manny’s,” Abby dropped her bag in the corner of the room, using her foot to kick it under her bedframe. “On an overnight, though. So it’s just me. One of the many perks you have to look forward to if you become a top soldier.”

“Fat chance.” You quipped bitterly.

There were footsteps behind you, but you didn’t think much of it as you closed the curtain. You turned away from the window and in a second the two of you were together, the blonde placing a hand on the small of your back and taking your mouth into hers. It was as though you were covered in white light, how everything became so blinding, so warm, extremely surreal in a way you couldn’t place. You’d wake up in your bunk, you were sure of it. Had to wake up in your bunk. But as the wet of her tongue played over your lips, you thought, maybe you didn’t want to wake up. You could dream forever and that would be fine.

“You know, you’re really hard on yourself, rookie.” The taller woman breathed, pulling away to speak. “Wouldn’t be a good mentor if I didn’t give you a morale adjustment.”

You moaned, leaning into it, the thickness of her thigh now ghosting against the spread of your legs. Her hand came up to run fingers gently through your hair, thumbing away the thin layer of sweat that formed on the nape of your neck. Her cockiness did something to you, and it was as though you couldn’t get enough skin to touch as you gripped her bicep deeper, feeling the muscle bulge with her effort. Her tongue disappeared into your mouth, swirling against yours, depositing the slick of her saliva down your throat. It was heavy and wet, built up like her own body, and it dominated yours easily, just like she had done in the gym.

“You with me?” She peppered a soft kiss, groaning as she took a fistful of your thigh, heaving it up to lock against her waist, the seam of your pants unwittingly pressing into your crotch through now-dampened panties. She pulled from you and you wanted to chase her, a deprived whine ringing out of your throat before you could stop it. Unbeknownst to you, the noise sent a shockwave to Abby’s clit, and she could feel her channel begin to slicken. Fuck, you were pretty. Her eyes narrowed, looking over your features. This should be against her ethical code, probably against proper conduct guidelines, but she wanted you so bad it was infuriating. She heard Chung’s voice again.

…tryna’ catch another type of body?

Oh, fuck you, man.

You nodded, and a frown overcame her. “Needa hear you, kid.” You looked down, pressed your face into her chest, kneading fingers into her open grey sweatshirt. It was embarrassing to say, and a part of her wished that she was as bad as you had always said she was, that she would just… do whatever this is and not make you vocalise how much you wanted her. The pit of shame in your stomach got deeper, but she soothed a thumb over your brow and it was like you melted. “We don’t have to do anything if you d–”

“I’m here. I’m with you.”

There it was; the confirmation, the greenlight she needed to lift you up, both legs under her strong hands now, and carry you to the two pushed-together twin mattresses of her bed. She looked down at you, laying on your back, blown-out watery eyes squinted as she lifted your shirt up just a hair to reveal the plush skin beneath. “Fuckin’ hell.” She whispered to nobody specific, running a thumb against your torso.

Abby met your eye, asking, and you nodded. She exposed you easily, lifting your shirt up and leaving you in just a bra from the waist up. Deft fingers locked under the straps and she pulled her hands down, mouth agape as your breasts spilled forward. If she believed, she would’ve compared the sight to viewing the kingdom of heaven for the first time, singing angels and all. A calloused hand trailed up to palm one, a thumb rolling across the pliant bulb of your nipple, the sensation causing it to rapidly harden to a stiff point. She took it, rolling it between two fingers and her thumb as she leaned in, taking the other in her mouth and grazing it between her teeth. A ragged breath was forced through your lips as you tried to regain your spinning consciousness.

“Fuck, nghh– Abby, fuck.” You moaned out, delirious. The double stimulation didn’t stop, and instead, Abby slid her jaw forward, biting one nipple firmly and gripping the other between two knuckles to pull, and you cried out. She sucked as though she was nursing, the slopping popping noises of her mouth filling the air in tandem with your moans and whimpers.

“Goddamned gorgeous, you know that?” She groaned, slapping your free tit with her hand lightly before walking her fingers down to your belt loop. With one hand she slipped down your sweatpants to your ankles, leaving you in nothing but light, stained briefs. Your cunt had soaked pathetically through the fabric, clit standing at attention. You were so wet that the thin cloth was practically see-through, the rouge of your cunt catching Abby’s eye. Through your underwear, a calloused thumb toggled your clit, ripping a half-sob from your body.

It was as though you were an overflowing spring of endlessly pure water, how the wet spot grew and grew. You fucked your hips upwards, trying desperately to rock harder into the new assailant, but Abby lifted her thumb away, depriving you of the sensation. It was so much, everything was spinning; your head, the room, your soul out of your body. Your cunt clenched around air as she drew designs on your thigh with a finger absentmindedly.

“Gotta be patient, little.” She didn’t look up, but there was a smirk on her face and a smile in her voice as brought her thumb back down. “Gonna take care of you, don’t worry.”

Her finger ghosted over the wet spot in your underwear and you twitched unconsciously. The blonde captured a thin sheen of your drip between two fingers, stretching the line back and forth. “So fuckin’ excited for me.” She pressed her nose down into your crotch, and you closed your thighs reflexively. Fine by her. She took a deep inhale of your pussy, and lathed at the wet liquid with her tongue. The rough texture of the fabric dragged over your clit, bringing the little red bulb to a fever pitch, as she sucked and slurped through it, catching salty-sweetness in her mouth. Her tongue pathed its way to your covered clit, flattening roughly over the sensitive bundle. The dual stimulation was driving you mad; the hard abrasion of wet panties slipping between your cuntlips, in and out of your hole as she licked and prodded, and the firm muscle of her tongue kneading at the pliant flesh.

Like she was showing off a party trick, Abby maneuvered her tongue, skillfully weaving it inside of your underwear to taste your ambrosia from the tap. Rough hands grabbed hold of your ass, palming and gripping as she pushed your thighs up and over to situate your feet over your head in the perfect position where your gooey pussy was squished together, oozing directly into her mouth. You kicked the sweatpants the rest of the way gone, and they flew into the corner of the room, never to be seen again. There was a groan like an animal, and you weren’t sure which of the two of you was the source as Abby tore your panties open, the two halves drooping weakly, and pressed your feet next to your ears. She devoured you with newfound vigor, catching a second wind the moment your walls clenched around her tongue, fucking you in and out as hard and deep as possible.

“Abby! Shit, shit, more. Please.” You whimpered, looking down to see where her disappearing nose bumped against your clit over and over again. She wanted you to fuck her face, grinding her head back and forth so that her lips massaged yours, her tongue searched for every spot, and her nose abused your sloppy nub, driving you crazy with sensation over sensation. You were coming over the bend fast, too fast, and everything flashed white and black in spades as your body trembled. Again, her thumb came up to drum against your clit, and your orgasm tore you in two, red hot. Your juices siphoned into the blonde’s waiting mouth, and she drank from you like an oasis.

Her body came over, you, shrouding you in darkness and the rolled over to lay flat on the bed, scooting over to plant her feet on the very edge. You were still trembling, still drooling from the slit in your legs that was happily prepped and used. The throbbing shook your whole body as you tried to catch your breath, and Abby’s arm jutted out, pulling you across the bed and onto her, chest to back. She hooked her knees through yours, and you could feel the force holding you open to give full exposure to your greedy hole. She licked a hot stripe up your neck and you whimpered, biting your lip. She pulled it free with your thumb, replacing it with a finger that she fucked in and out of your hot mouth. “Wonder where this is going, huh?” She angled her knees down, spreading you further, your pussylips slipping apart, cool air running against your clit. “Gotta see if it’s just your hand, or if you have a twitchy pussy too, baby.”

The moniker that usually filled you with red shame was now engulfing you with hot-pink lust, your cunny leaking down onto the bed. You were dumb and fuck-drunk as Abby pushed one of her thick fingers into you, slowly at first in order to get you used to the stretch of the tight ring. She curled her knuckle to press against your g-spot and you saw stars. She sped up her filthy pace, the sloppy sounds of your wet cunt reverberating in the air. Then, it was instant, her strong, rippling arm coming around to clench your neck again, palm rubbing your head gently. Abby added another finger, palm smearing your clit harshly as she fucked you deep, pace quickening. Her fingers scissored back and forth as she closed her elbow tighter, cutting off your breath and inviting the pressure you were by now so used to. You couldn’t tell her you were on the verge of cumming, a red-hot fire in your stomach burning hotter and faster as the plowed through your juices.

You were suctioning her fingers, barely letting them slip from your folds. She pulled them out nearly all the way and drilled back in, tiny splashes of liquid raining down on the mattress. You ground your hips as best you could in the compromising position, chasing your orgasm, so close to your own personal bliss that you started panting like a whore with no concern. Abby pressed open-mouthed kisses to your cheeks, to your lips, the taste of you still on her and mingling with your own saliva. You were dizzy, be it the pleasure, the slowly depleting oxygen in your lungs, or the fact that your mentor was currently palm-deep in your pussy, but you couldn’t keep your composure.

Your walls clenched around her, and you could hear her muttering in your ear. ‘such a tight pussy, Twitch, baby. Such a good pussy.’ And it was like you were summoned, cunt spasming as you came hard and messy, squirt shooting from you and sprinkling loudly through the ground. She fucked you through it, releasing your throat as your vision blurred, not letting you close your legs and bringing her free hand down to rub your clit in tandem. You tried to buck away from her to no avail, your cunt clenching wildly, juices bubbling over, lips red and sore from the sustained abuse. Tears rolled down your face as you took hungry breaths, your deprived lungs fighting for all of the air they could get.

The two of you lay together, panting, hearts beating against the other, and Abby pulled her palm away from the throbbing expanse of your swollen, used cunt. She unhooked your thighs, and the pressure of closing your legs again sent a ripple into your pussy that made you whimper something fierce. There was a long, pregnant silence, and then you spoke up, cheekily.

“So are you going to still swap me?”

“Not sure… it’s, whadotheycallit–? A conflict of interest.” She said, turning over and throwing a heavy arm over your chest, rubbing your bicep absentmindedly.

“But I’ll tell you what, champ; I’ll make sure to put a special training session on my schedule whenever you’re up for it. If you’re up for it.”

#abby anderson x fem reader #abby anderson ff #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson smut #abby x reader #abby smut #abby tlou smut #abby anderson x you #abby x fem!reader #tlou smut #tiki writes #time to go lay my ass to sleep

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sapphire-drawings · 9 months

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A whole lot of sketches of the shadow husbands, been a while since I've drawn them. Basically Maxwil but T. Wilson is in love with Maxwell's corrupted form cuz... I think that's neat. Gotta explore that concept a bit more

Also, T. Wilson in a constant insane state of mind fills my soul with something~ The black suit does part of the trick ngl

#maxwil #dst maxwell #dst wilson #dst #dont starve #dont starve together #triumphant skins #Does corrupted Maxwell needs a tag???

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winterspiderpurrs · 5 months

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Bucky was sipping on a beer as he looked around the crowded room.

" So what? You went through Steve's phone and just called up and texted everyone in there? "

Sam laughed and nodded " Sure did. He had a lot of people in there and they know a lot of the same people. Peggy rented out this big venue for a wedding party since they are doing a small wedding and no reception. That way everyone can celebrate now and not get pissed about not being invited."

Bucky nodd, makes sense in the long run. Peggy and Steve were up front opening some of the presents. There was a huge pile of them. They looked so happy. A tall shadow falls next to Bucky at the bar.

" oooh! Open Bar! Peteypie! We will have a Sex on the beach and for my twink friend here he will have a Tequila Sunrise!"

" No wade! Sorry about that ma'am I'll just have a gingerale"

Turning to look at the two next to him, Bucky raises his eyebrow briefly. The tall man was heavily scarred, the younger man next to him was younger, seemed a little nervous to be here.

Bucky glances at Sam who shrugs before Bucky nods at the man next to him.

" So do you know Steve or Peggy?"

" neither!"

The man gives a wide smile.

" I'm here cause Petey Pie was invited. And I wanna get a look at who he used to fuck. For moral support reasons"

" Oh my god wade! You cannot just say that! And out people like that!"

The young man turned bright red, " Just ignore him."

He holds his hand out to shake. " I'm Peter. I'm a friend of Steve's. But I have met Peggy. Uh, after that is. When she visits the tower for her military contracts"

Bucky could hear Sam's whispered 'wow' and Bucky offers his hand to shake Peter's.

" Name is Bucky, this is Sam. " he eyes Peter. Bucky knew that several years ago, he suspected Steve was cheating on Peggy, even if it was briefly. Just wasn't expecting someone like Peter.

" I knew he was seeing a science person before. Just didn't know it was .... you" peter cleared his throat and nodded.

" It's... fine. We parted on mutual terms. We wanted different things."

The fact Steve was with someone else and that Steve hasn't told them he even was interested in guys was left out.

They sat together for a little bit, talking about how Steve met Bucky and Sam. Peter asking tons of things about Bucky's metal arm. Wade had already wondered off somewhere. Bucky could see why Steve would have been drawn to Peter.

" Oh, Steve! Have you met Peter? He works in a lab with Tony here. How Sam got your number. I'll never know! It's good to see you. It's been a while, yes?"

Bucky, Sam, and Peter turn to face Steve and Peggy and Tony Stark. Steve has a look of surprise on his face, Peggy was smiling, but even Tony looked confused.

"Wow.. Peter, it's been a while. I've met Peter before... briefly at the gym in the tower. Since you have a membership through work." Said Steve, but Steve reaches out and shakes Peter hand.

Bucky raises an eyebrow at Steve. Seriously? Steve met Peter while visiting Peggy at work. And from what it sounded like, Peter didn't know about Peggy til later. Man, Steve really took the stupid with him, didn't he.

" Pete, I thought you were going to that... event tonight, the one we talked about" said Tony.

Peter blushes, sipping his drink. " I did.. I am." Peter glances over at Steve then back to Tony, with a look that of 'please don't say anything'.

Tony tilted his head, slight frown before his eyes widen and he look at Steve, then Peggy then back at Peter.

" Wow okay. That. Something." Tony takes a sip of his drink before he walks over to Peter and wraps his arm around his waist.

" This is the Peter, I was telling you about. I'm sure you have heard all about in the papers" Steve frowns a little, eyeing the arm at Peter's waist.

" What is in the papers? " says Steve.

Peggy laughs, and lightly slaps Steve's arm.

" He never pays attention to the news. I didn't know your Peter was the same one I had met before! Congratulations! Steve, Peter and Tony got engaged a month ago"

Steve's eyes widen before they narrow, and then give Tony a once over. " Congrats"

Tony smirks up at Steve, before he turns to kiss Peter on the cheek. " We are very excited." Peter blushes.

" Round of shots for everyone!" Yelled a voice and there was loud cheering.

Breaking up the tension.

Tony gave Peter an exasperated look " You brought Wilson? Really?"

Peter laughs " He was curious! I figured it could be good entertainment plus he is good bodyguard."

Tony sighs and shakes his head as he smiles over at Peter.

Bucky and Sam look at each other. This was more entertaining then they thought this party would be.

#writing prompt #spidershield #shieldspider #peter parker x steve rogers #starker #tony stark/peter parker #tony stark x peter parker #starker prompt #winterspiderpurrs #i wanted drama

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geralt-of-baevia · 2 months

Text

Call It What You Want: Chapter One

pairing: nobreakout!joel x f!ofc (Violet Fletcher)

rating: explicit, MDNI 18+

word count: 2.1k

summary: Seeking solace from a painful breakup, Violet relocates to a tranquil town, purchasing a neglected house to renovate. In her new neighborhood, she befriends Harlow, who introduces her to Joel, a gruff and seasoned contractor with a heart of gold. Despite Joel's initial grumpiness, Violet finds herself drawn to his expertise and hidden kindness.

As Violet immerses herself in home renovations alongside Joel, their dynamic begins to shift, with Joel unexpectedly opening himself up to the possibility of love. Their budding relationship faces challenges as shadows from their pasts emerge, testing their newfound connection.

warnings/tags: nothing for now! just lots of light and airy fluff and a meet-cute! but don't worry, it's gonna get dirty 😈! oh, I guess age gap? yeah, that one.

a/n: alright, i've had MAJOR writer's block for a couple years now. I tried to write a Ted Lasso fic last year, but quickly lost steam. But somehow Pedge worked his magic on me and I'm already nine chapters in on this story and 25k words and I'm just now posting it! I hope y'all enjoy. This story means the world to me rn. <3

My keys jingled in the door, and I couldn’t help but let out an aggravated sigh. This was at least the third time this week that the front door was sticking. I pinched the bridge of my nose and sighed again, knowing my fate: I would have to crawl through the kitchen window.

Again.

As I walked around the back to go in through the kitchen window, I heard a voice calling my name. I looked across the street and saw my neighbor Harlow. She was standing on the last step of her front porch. One of her hands was held up to her brow as a temporary visor, blocking her eyes from the sun. She was shaking her head at me with a big, stupid grin.

“Girl, is that front door stuck again?” she asked, humor dripping from her faint southern drawl.

I sighed, crossing my arms in defeat and shifting my weight to one hip.

“Is there any use in lying to you at this point?” I called back in response.

She let out a loud laugh. “At least this time I caught you before you god forbid get stuck in that damn kitchen window again, ass up and legs flailing.”

I laughed at her comment and placed a hand awkwardly over my face in embarrassment. Two days prior I had gotten stuck climbing through the kitchen window when the front door had been jammed again, Harlow coming to my rescue.

“And I thought you had “finally fixed” anyway?” she asked, doing air quotes with her hands.

“I did!”

“And how is that working out for you?”

I shook my head with a laugh and flipped her the bird.

“Well, why don’t you come over and I’ll make us some breakfast?” she said, motioning me to come over to her, “and then you are going to let me call my friend who will come and fix your door. And I’m not letting you tell me no this time.”

I knew there was no saying no to her.

----

“Wait, so you’re telling me you just sautee mushrooms and onions, and then put it between puff pastry and a slab of beef?”

I nodded with a giggle. “Mmhmm. And then you brush the meat with mustard as well.”

Harlow’s mouth dropped open.

“I’ll make it for you sometime!” I told her excitedly, “I haven’t made it since culinary school, but I loved it.”

The doorbell rang and interrupted us. Harlow shot up from her seat excitedly.

“He’s here!” she said as she made her way towards the front door. She paused for a minute and turned to face me.

“Okay, just a warning real quick. Don’t be put off by the fact that he might be a bit of a curmudgeon,” she giggled.

“A curmudgeon? That’s such a specific brand of grump,” I said with a chuckle. She shrugged her shoulders before turning back around to get the door.

The doorbell rang a second time and I heard Harlow shout, “I’m coming! Be patient, Jesus…”

I giggled to myself and took a long drink of my coffee. Before I was able to set my mug down on the table, I looked up to see Harlow walk back into the kitchen, a tall man following behind her.

“Do you want some coffee Joel?” she asked him. I watched as he crossed his arms and leaned against the frame of the doorway.

“Yes, please,” he replied, emphasizing the please.

I started to stand up to introduce myself, but he caught my eye and put a hand up to stop me.

“Oh, no need to get up on my behalf,” he said, stopping me. I sat back down as he walked the few steps between us and held his hand out to me.

I took his hand in mine and he gave me a firm handshake. I almost missed him introducing himself to me. I was too focused on how the pads of his hand and fingers were callused, and how it felt against my smooth skin.

“I’m Joel.”

“Hi, I’m Violet,” I replied, thankful that at least the autopilot in my head was paying attention. A big smile spread on his face, causing his eyes to squint and get crinkly in the corners.

“As in the Violet that lives across the street in the 1940s fixer-upper?” He had the same faded southern accent that Harlow did. They had known each other for a long time.

“I feel bad that you seem to know more about me than I know about you,” I said, trying to not come across awkwardly. Joel took a seat and let out an airy chuckle.

“Oh don’t worry, there’s not much to know about me,” he said sincerely.

“We both know that’s not true,” Harlow interjected. She sat down at the end of the table between Joel and me, handing him his coffee.

“Thank you,” he said almost in relief.

I tried my hardest not to stare at Joel, but I caught myself looking him up and down more than once as we sat at the table and talked.

“Wait, so what’s goin’ on?” he asked, setting his now empty coffee mug down on the table. I sighed before tucking my hair behind my ear.

“Okay, so the original door knob kept catching and jamming. Something having to do with the original door knob not lining up correctly when it's closed. I thought putting a new door knob and re-aligning it would work. But then I tried to open my door when I got open, and it was stuck again,” I explained, “so I think it’s past me just YouTubing answers.”

“Well it’s a good thing that Joel here is a carpenter,” Harlow said, patting him on the shoulder. He smiled another crinkled smile at her.

“Retired carpenter, but yes,” he said, giving her a friendly wink, “but I can fix that. I bet you anything your doorway is slackin’ and need a new door. Either way, I’m sure I can fix it.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want to be a bother-”

“If it was going to be a bother to me, I wouldn’t have come here in the first place,” he said with a knowing smirk. I tried my hardest to keep my blushing to a minimum, but my cheeks still grew warm.

Joel stood up and clapped his hands, rubbing them together excitedly. “Alright ladies, let's get up and go look at this door.” We all got up and exited the house, making our way across the street to mine.

I smiled up at the house as we made our way to the front door. Sometimes I still couldn’t believe it was mine. The house had been barely used for almost a decade. Each one of the five bedrooms needed to be redone. And the two bathrooms. And the sitting rooms. It was a lot of work, but worth it. Not to mention a dilapidated house was cheaper to buy than a ready-to-move-in one. I saw it as a way that I get to make the house exactly how I wanted it.

Once we were at the door, Joel held his hand out to me.

“Key please,” he said, locking eyes with me as he did. I fumbled into my pocket, pulled the key out, and placed it in his hand. “Thanks.”

He put the key in the keyhole and tried to turn it, but it wouldn’t budge. He tried turning it the other way, but it still didn’t move. I sighed.

“How badly did I fuck it up?” I asked. He let out a chuckle.

“You didn’t fuck it up, the house did,” he said, giving me a reassuring look. I watched as he pointed out areas around the frame on the wall, “I guarantee you it’s like I said, slacking in these places and putting the door off balance.”

“So what's the fix?” I asked, “Is it going to be intense?”

“Not at all. It’s a project I could do and get done by this afternoon. I just need to go get some things for it,” he said, still looking at the wall and assessing. “But I need to look at it from the inside before I can tell. Is there a way to get in?”

Harlow giggled. “Through the kitchen window. I had to help rescue her the other day, though.”

"I’ll give you a boost this time then,” he said with a smirk.

The three of us made our way around the back of the house, and I shimmied open the window just enough for me to fit through. Joel squatted down, laced his fingers together, and looked up at me.

“Ready?” he asked. I nodded in response. I took a deep breath, placed my hands on Joel’s shoulders, and then my foot in his hands.

“Three, two, one, up.” On ‘up’ I jumped with my foot on the ground as he simultaneously lifted me. I was taken aback a little by how effortlessly he did so, and how I could feel muscles through his shirt.

I grabbed onto the bottom of the windowsill and pulled myself up as Joel continued to push. He led the foot that was in his hands to his shoulder, where I was able to give myself a final boost and get through the window. I grabbed onto the edge of the counter inside and pulled myself the rest of the way in, accidentally landing in a thud on the black and white kitchen floor.

“You okay?” Joel and Harlow shouted in unison.

“I’m fine!” I called back as I got myself to my feet. I peeked out of the window to look at them. “I’m going to go find an easier window for you two to climb through and get it ready.”

I ran towards the front of the house, looking for a window that was lower and easier to get through. I decided on one of the windows that lined the porch. I haphazardly ripped the screen from the window and unlocked it. After opened it I stuck my head out and shouted, “Over here, you two!”

Once Harlow and Joel crawled into the house, Joel immediately headed for the front door.

“Have you decided on a paint color for this room yet?” Harlow asked me, looking around the room we were in. I shook my head.

“I’ve decided to keep the wallpaper. I’m just going to clean it and touch up the trim,” I told her with a big smile. She looked around the room at the wallpaper in question, wincing a little at the bold gold pattern on the walls.

“So, I was right,” Joel said, peeking his head around into the room. He nudged his head for me to come see. I swallowed the butterflies down into my stomach and went into the foyer. He nudged his head again before crouching down by the door knob. I closed the space between us and followed suit, crouching down so that I was at eye level with Joel and the doorknob.

Joel pointed his finger at where the door and the frame joined. “See how it’s not lining up, it's just a little too low.”

I watched as he stood up and grabbed onto the knob with both hands. With a grunt, he lifted the door and turned it at the same time. To my happy surprise, the door opened with no problem. Joe took a step back and placed his hands on his hips, looking at the door with a sense of accomplishment.

“So, a new doorframe?” I asked as I got to my feet. He replied with a “mmhmm.”

“Yep. I just need to take some measurements of the door and the frame. I know I have enough spare wood at my place, but I’ll need a new door. Did you say you have the original hardware?”

I nodded. “How much is a new door going to cost? I can get you the money for it.”

He shook his head. “Nah, don’t worry. I know a guy where I can get a good door for cheap. Consider it a housewarming gift.”

Harlow and I sat on my front porch as we watched Joel drive off in the direction of the woodshop.

“So, I thought you said he was a curmudgeon?” I said, keeping my gaze ahead.

“He is. Usually.”

She nudged my shoulder with hers, causing me to sway to the side. I straightened up and finally looked over at her just in time to nudge her back, biting at my bottom lip.

Usually. We’ll have to see what that means.

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal fanfiction #joel miller #joel miller x oc #tlou hbo #the last of us #the last of us hbo #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfic #no outbreak!joel miller #no outbreak au

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bluecatwriter · 24 days

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Blood of My Blood: Namesakes

In the Blood of My Blood AU, I was thinking about what might have prompted Arthur to show Quincey the Documents, and this scene was born. Tagging @ibrithir-was-here and @animate-mush as usual!

CW for mentions of past violence, murder, and vampire staking

~~~

Lu was out for the day, with Kate Reed on an investigative mission in a city a couple hours west, and Arthur was immensely relieved about it. It was unlikely that their search would turn up anything, and in the meantime, Lu was out getting some fresh air and enjoying the company of someone other than her vampire boyfriend. (She had begged Arthur to let the boy come along, but he chose this moment to put his foot down: absolutely not. She had pouted, but obeyed… this time.)

He hadn't realized what a weight on his shoulders it had been until it was lifted, and as he walked down to the dining room to have his usual lunch with Jack, he felt his heart sitting more lightly in his chest. He still had no idea if he was doing the right thing for his daughter by not actively stopping the courtship, but at least for today he didn't have to think about that.

Since he and Jack kept nearly opposite sleep schedules, they tried to have lunch together every day, and they met each other in the hallway and linked arms to walk to the dining room together. Jack didn't have long to spend with him, talking eagerly about his meeting that afternoon with a doctor who specialized in epilepsy, whose insights would no doubt help him with the medical article he was trying to finish.

It was a hot, sunny day, so the servants had drawn the curtains, leaving the normally-bright room draped in shadow, and potato-leek soup was laid out along with an assortment of greens and pastries.

Arthur saw a telegram on his plate and picked it up, Jack leaning over his shoulder to read it too. Ms. Reed said that the investigation seemed to be turning up nothing, but that they planned to stay overnight to investigate further. The thought of Lu and the boy being separate for that long made an extra layer of tension peel off from Arthur's muscles.

"Where is Q today?" Jack asked.

Arthur looked at him curiously; hitherto he had called him "the boy" in sign language, but now he just signed the letter Q.

"Is that your name for him now?" Arthur asked aloud, then signed, "Q?"

"Lu calls him that, and I figured it was good enough. I can't exactly call him Quincey." This last name was a sign that he had come up with to describe their deceased friend— an open hand to the head as if donning a cowboy hat.

Arthur's hand clenched into a fist, crumpling the telegram. "No. No, you can't," he said aloud. He deliberately relaxed his hold on the paper and dropped it on the table. He wondered for a thousandth time why Harker had chosen that name. "I don't know where the boy is," he signed. "Probably sleeping until evening, as usual." One less thing to worry about.

"Forgive me," Jack signed, drawing close to his side. "You were so relaxed, and now I've raised your blood pressure again." He ran a soothing hand along Arthur's arm, turning him to face him and linking his metal hand around Arthur's hip.

"It's fine," Arthur said aloud. "Just… let's just have a nice lunch and not worry about anything for a while, all right?"

Jack nodded, and his eyes grew soft as he studied Arthur's face. The room felt suddenly warm.

"Jack…" Arthur said, a smile tugging at his lips. He knew that look.

"Can you guess what I'm thinking?" Jack said playfully, drawing Arthur a bit closer by his hip so that they were pressed together.

"Jack, it's the middle of day," Arthur said, but his stern voice was belied by the slight chuckle in it.

Jack's eyes softened further, his lips quirking as he brought his face close, keeping his right hand free so he could keep talking. "I have an idea for stress relief for you, though I doubt it will lower your blood pressure."

"Jack," Arthur said, feeling himself blush like a schoolboy, and he made a show of turning away. Jack didn't let go, and ended up flush against his back, kissing the nape of his neck, his right hand sneaking into the waistband of Arthur's trousers. Arthur melted against him. "Jack…"

From the settee at the far end of the room, they heard a small, discreet cough.

They leaped apart as if burned, Arthur's shirt coming untucked in the process. The vampire child rose up like a shadow from the piece of furniture, his eyes wide and his cheeks lit up with a bruise-colored blush.

"I'm so sorry!" he blurted out. "I didn't mean to— I'm sorry— I— I thought you saw me when you came in, I wasn't trying to hide, I would've left but there wasn't a way out, I'm sorry, I'm very sorry—"

Arthur tucked his shirt back in, all bluster. "Calm down, it's all right, no one's going to punish you!"

The boy snapped his mouth shut, squeezing his hands together behind his back. Arthur heard the soft, rasping sound of Jack chuckling, and Arthur shot a glare at him— as if he was at fault for not noticing the vampire in the corner. "What are you doing here?" Arthur asked Quincey sharply.

"I was taking a nap."

"Don't you have a bedroom for that?"

"I'm so sorry. I just came in here, and it was nice and dark, and the settee was so comfortable…" He hung his head, the blush still on his cheeks.

Jack stepped up beside Arthur and nodded to him. "You should invite him to have lunch with us."

Arthur signed back so the boy wouldn't hear. "He doesn't eat."

"It might be a nice gesture. Look at the poor boy."

Arthur looked over at Quincey, who was visibly trying to keep himself from trembling.

Through gritted teeth, he said aloud, "Would you like to join us for lunch?"

The boy lit up, and Arthur remembered that expression on his mother's face, how she would clap her hands when she was excited. "May I?"

"Of course," Arthur ground out, shooting another glare at Jack, and the three of them sat down at the table. Quincey sat perfectly still and straight in his chair, but he was almost vibrating with a palpable energy.

Jack took his place next to Arthur, their legs brushing under the table. Arthur briefly considered offering the boy some soup, because it felt strange not to, but they had well-established that the boy could not stomach any human food. So they just began eating in silence.

After a few beats, the boy asked, "Lord Godalming, you said in an earlier conversation that I did not need permission to speak, is it not so?"

Arthur sighed. "That's correct. You can just speak."

The boy looked relieved. But when he spoke, it was to Jack, not him. "Dr. Seward, I saw you mention my name, and Lu's. She's been teaching me some sign language," he added, but then didn't elaborate further. Arthur noticed that he rarely asked direct questions, just opened topics of conversation and seemed to hope that the other person would answer his oblique hints.

Jack signed, "We were just discussing your nickname, Q." After a moment, he glanced at Arthur, and Arthur remembered he had to translate. He spoke the words aloud.

"Ah, yes. Lu calls me that."

Lu and Q, what a matching set of nicknames. Arthur held back a groan. But now that the topic had come up, the question returned to his mind: of all the names to give his son, why had Harker chosen this one? Aloud, he said, "Quincey… did your father ever tell you about your namesake?"

Quincey looked at him quizzically, as if thinking this was some kind of test. "My father didn't give me this name," he said. "Papa did."

Arthur was still getting used to the father/papa differentiation. He went on, a bit testily: "Did your papa ever tell you, then?"

"I didn't know I was named after anyone." Quincey looked at him with open curiosity.

That was fair. What would Harker say, anyway? He was a fine man, loyal and with the truest heart that ever beat. When he swore to kill your Father, I took his hand and gazed at him with glowing admiration. Then I brutally murdered him in front of his friends.

The boy had sensed Arthur's bitterness; Arthur could see him tense. Under the table, Jack gently touched his knee, a warning, a reassurance. Arthur swallowed back the angry words he wanted to say. He didn't want to hurt this boy, not really, and he had long ago given up his right to revenge in order to save Jack's life. But he felt a sudden duty to make sure that Quincey knew something of the man whose name he carried.

"You are named after a man named Quincey Morris," Arthur said, willing his voice to be steady. "He was our best friend. Kind, noble, goodhearted. He had a great sense of humor and he was the bravest and most selfless man I ever knew."

The boy looked up at him eagerly, as if trying to memorize this new information.

Arthur hadn't seen the exact moment of his best friend's death; his back had been turned. Jack hadn't seen it either; he was too distracted by his hand going flying and the blood exploding from his throat. Sometimes, Jack had said, I think I remember that Quincey grabbed my coat and pulled me away from Harker's blade. But I don't know if that's my memory playing tricks on me.

Quincey had had a gun, and he had not fired. It was possible that he didn't have time to draw. But Quincey had the quickest draw of anyone Arthur knew, and it was not easy to catch him off guard.

Arthur had never seen that much blood before, even when he had staked Lucy's body.

"You should be proud to be named after him," Arthur concluded, his voice wavering only slightly.

Quincey hesitated, then spoke gingerly. "You speak of him as if he's not here."

Arthur felt his heart catch in his throat. Under the table, Jack squeezed his leg.

Arthur had turned over and over Harker's words in his "letter of recommendation:" I swear to you, he is wholly ignorant of the the evil done on his behalf.

"He died, unfortunately," Arthur said. Unfortunately. As if the inexorable march of time had caused it to happen, like the melting of snow or the turning of tide. As if it were not the result of Harker destroying everything and everyone in his path for his own selfish ends.

"There is so much pain in your eyes," Quincey said, and there was such open compassion on his face that Arthur felt the beginnings of tears. He blinked them back.

"It's a noble name to live up to," Jack signed, and then nudged Arthur to translate for him, which he did. "We hope that you can show yourself to be as true and good as he was."

The boy nodded vigorously. "I intend to live up to the name."

Living up to Quincey's name was impossible, Arthur thought, but there was no use telling him that.

They ate in silence for a while longer, then Jack checked his watch and told Arthur he needed to head out. He gave Arthur a peck on the lips when he left, which made Arthur blush (it wasn't helping that the boy was staring at them, with that same unabashed curiosity he showed with everything).

When Jack left the room, there was an awkward silence, and Arthur was just getting ready to make some excuse to leave when Quincey spoke quietly. "Lu told me that she has the same name as someone who died, too."

Oh, lord, he was not ready for this conversation. But Quincey needed to know this. He needed to understand…

Arthur tried to keep his voice even. "That's correct. She shares a name with her Aunt Lucy Westenra, who unfortunately died before she was born." Again, that word, unfortunately. Like time and tide and the stake in his hands— she is among the angels, friend Arthur, you have set her soul free, oh dear Lord, he wished to God he could be sure of it— "She was to be my wife," he added, not even sure why he did.

Quincey gasped, and stared at him wide-eyed, as if this much grief was something new to him. "What happened to her?"

Arthur opened his mouth, shut it again. She became like you, and so I took a mallet and a wooden stake and I slaughtered her, blow after bloodied blow while she screamed, and I thought myself righteous for doing so. What was there to say? What could he say?

"She fell ill, and died."

Quincey solemnly took this in; Arthur could fairly see the wheels of his brain turning, processing all this information.

Not knowing why he pressed on, Arthur added, "Lucy Westenra was best friends with your Mum, before she was a vampire." Before they both were.

Quincey started, staring at him. "Oh," he said, and suddenly he looked even paler, if it were possible.

"What is it?"

Quincey looked like he was going to say, "Nothing," but he put his head down and gulped. "I didn't realize… I do know about Lucy Westenra. I just didn't know her name." There was sorrow, deep sorrow, in his voice.

Arthur felt his skin prickling, as if a fire was crackling under his skin. He should not ask, he should not ask, he should not— "What of her?"

Quincey raised his head, his face grief-stricken. "Was that why she was disloyal to Father, because she tried to belong to you?"

Arthur's stomach dropped out, and his brain ground to a halt. A choked, "What?" was all he could get out.

"Father said that when he wooed her, she offered only her blood, but that her loyalty was fractured, and that's why—"

Arthur didn't realize he had leaped up until his thighs hit the table, sending dishes clattering and silverware flying. He had grabbed the boy by his shirt across the table and yanked him to his feet, and the words came out in a roar before he could stop them. "Never speak of her again!"

"Yes, lord!" Quincey gasped, and burst into tears.

Arthur's hands went slack, and he watched in surreal horror as blood welled up in Quincey's eyes and went dripping down his face in rivulets. Was that how vampires wept? (Oh God, what was he doing, making this poor child cry?)

"I'm sorry," he said quickly, letting go of his shirt. He felt dizzy. "I'm sorry, Quincey, I shouldn't have yelled."

"I'm sorry, lord, I don't know what I said wrong," Quincey gasped out, furiously wiping away his tears, leaving streaks of pale red blood on his skin. "Please teach me, so I may learn the Lesson and not anger you in the future."

"I'm sorry," Arthur said weakly again, and quickly circled around the table, fumbling for his handkerchief, which he handed to the boy. Quincey accepted it and bent over it, sniffing and trembling. Arthur hesitantly put his hand on the boy's head to steady him, and he felt him relax instantly under his touch.

"You only spoke in ignorance, and I shouldn't have lashed out," Arthur said, a lump in his throat. "Forgive me."

Quincey looked up quickly, as if Arthur had said something incomprehensible. Arthur guessed that his "Father" certainly never would have said these words. "You can't help but repeat what you've been told," he said carefully, moving his hand down to squeeze Quincey's shoulder, "but what you've been told is a lie."

Quincey blinked at him, still sniffling a little.

"I can't blame you for being raised by a monster," Arthur said.

"Father is not—"

"He is," Arthur snapped. Quincey flinched, but Arthur didn't have the patience for compassion right now. Arthur let go of his shoulder, to give him room to move away if he wanted. "You need to know this, Quincey. Your papa and mum hid this from you, but you need to know. He's a monster who drinks people's blood and kills them. He killed Lucy in this way."

"No," Quincey blurted out. "No, that can't be true. Father would never, ever eat someone he didn't love."

The urge to grab him and shake him passed over Arthur like fire. He didn't move, only clenched his fists. "Quincey—"

"Father loves me," Quincey said, and there was desperation in his voice, as if he wanted nothing more than to convince Arthur of this fact. "He loves all of us. And—" he gulped, then set his jaw in that determined way that his papa had. "And I love him."

For a long time, they just stared at each other. Quincey's eyes had a reddish tinge from crying, faint blood-trails smeared on his face.

Then Arthur made a decision. "If you don't believe me, perhaps you'll believe the words of your mother and fa— and papa."

Quincey looked up at him in confusion.

"Come with me."

He turned and headed up to his office, Quincey trailing behind him like a shadow. In a wardrobe in the far corner of that room, locked in the bottom of a safe, laid a stack of yellowing pages, lovingly typed and compiled by the woman Arthur had once hoped to love as a sister, the woman who had died twenty-one years ago, the woman who had raised the child following noiselessly behind him.

It was time Quincey learned the truth.

~~~

#my writing #blood of my blood #arthur holmwood #jack seward #quincey harker #holmward

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haenypages · 1 year

Text

A Heart Of Steel

Assassin! Lucerys Velaryon x Targaryen! Reader

Summary: Before the incident, Lucerys and the youngest daughter of Viserys & Alicent were secretly dating. Now he has come to seek revenge upon her, thinking she was the cause of his near death.

Wordcount: 2.5k

Warnings: blood, fluff, angst, minor spoilers of Aegon & Aemond in S2 based on the book

Reader's POV

It was all a misunderstanding. I did not expose nor betray Lucerys' location to Aemond. I have no notion of how he ended up alive and the fact that he joined an assassin guild to learn the ways of killing just to take avenge for himself.

I wept for him everyday thinking that he was dead in the hands of my brother, or rather his dragon until this very moment, after nearly one year in which The Dance of the Dragons has entered into an intense stage.

This is definitely not the Lucerys Velaryon I've known. The sweet dragon prince as if straight out of the folk tales was gone. It was the hour of the wolf. I'm heading back to my bedchamber in the Red Keep when I saw a figure in a shadowy corner, another figure that I reckoned a sentinel lying on the bloodstained floor, motionless. Dead.

The hooded figure slowly approached from the shadow and abruptly I gaped in disbelief, not trusting the face I saw under the hood. "Luke." I whispered, knowing him from his scent and form although his gait has changed from stiff to seemingly nonchalant.

I wanted to run to him, embrace him until I saw a glint of iron in one hand and an impassive face. "What are you doing here?" I involuntarily backed a step. Silence. No response. His slow creeping started to turn into a walk. That's when my mind tells me to flee, so I did what it's told.

"I'm going to kill you, dārilaros (princess)!" he said without preamble. He ran after me. "What why- I don't understand!" Panting heavily, trying to find anyone in the hallway for help while trying to further the gap between Luke. "You knew exactly why! You'd told Aemond that I'm at Storm's End."

Luke acquired a throwing knife from the inside of his boots. It whistled past me, making a gash at my arm, blood trickled from it. I resorted to yelling since there was no one I could see, my sprint slowed gradually and he was increasing.

He's closing our gap! I'm about to veer around another corridor until I feel a hand clasping around my wrist firmly and another clamping over my mouth. My screams were muffled. Without thinking, I bit into the hand that covers my mouth, drawing droplets of blood.

The hand let go, the dagger releasing an audible clunk when it hits the stone floor. Lucerys hissed in frustration. The sound has drawn its attention. Voices! Footsteps! Someone is coming this way!

"HEL-" Lucerys pushed me against the wall, causing me a concussion before I could fully utter the words. Stars were forming. My head, shoulders, and back were in agony. The knife was back in his hands and immediately at my throat, drawing a thin line of blood. I struggled feebly in his grip, feeling helpless. "Please Luke, this is a mistake." I looked into his eyes one last time before the world around me went black.

Luke's POV

She slumped into me after she passed out. I carried the unconscious y/n away with me before the night patrol could investigate what had happened. For the present, they had interrupted my attempt at assassination. I searched for her chamber that we had our fun times together in the past. Seven be damned! Stop dwelling on those memories!

Winding through the familiar corridors, I finally found the quarter I am looking for. I unlatched the door with my nimble fingers, hinges creaking. After I was certain that the door was shut securely, I placed her on the bed. Binding her wrists together at one of the bedposts with hempen ropes and gagging her mouth.

I have made the decision of interrogating her when she's awake, giving her a chance. My current self may be ruthless, but there is still a tidbit of kindness in me that has been cultivated by my family, the family that thought I was dead and mourned for me.

I went to her bookshelf straight away, knowing well this is where her mind often wanders into, as well as mine. She was always intrigued by the stories of the dragonlords of Valyria before the Doom.

She once requested that I read to her more frequently from books and scrolls because she enjoys my Valyrian accent, therefore I did mostly each day just to lull her to sleep with my soothing voice. Unfortunately, that is not happening again. She broke my heart.

I skimmed through the pages, missing the smell of papers and inks. Books are barely seen in the assassin guild since weapons were the only thing we would require. After some more skimming, the groaning from the bed eventually distracted my attention. Immediately, I put the book down on the table. Walking towards her, dagger poised.

She slowly opened her eyes, examining the wounds on her throat and arm as she attempted to break free of the binding before her eyes landed upon mine. For a moment she froze like a frightened animal. My tutor taught me not to trust anyone. Told me that expressions could be a farce for sympathy. So I did not fall for that. But her feelings somehow look true to me.

"Good, you're awake. And no screaming." I took the gag off her and then sat down on the bed beside her. Knife dangerously close to her cheeks, then tracing her cheekbones with an air of disinterest as possible. She gulped.

"So tell me, how does Aemond know of my whereabouts? You're the only Green who knew I'm heading for Storm's End trying to make an alliance on my mother's behalf." I intoned, eyebrows furrowed. She began stammering for a second and eventually calmed down a little. "It was Aemond. Before I had the opportunity to take the parchment from the raven, he took it first." I frowned at her, she averted her gaze, looking at her lap and fidgeting with her fingers. "I should have locked the door. I never thought he'd sneak into my room. I'm so sorry." My heart softened without my mind's consent.

I am still hesitating about the things she confessed to me. It was just words. How could I trust mere words? At the mention of Aemond, my uncertainty was briefly replaced by an inevitable rage. I'd heard that he's come back from the raids at the Riverlands to continue his rule as regent. It was said that after the battle of Rook's Rest, following Aegon's disappearance, Aemond was named as regent of the Seven Kingdoms.

"I'll deal with you later when I finish that kinslayer." I announced, walking to the door. At the same time, I unsheathed the sword at my hip, checking the sharpness. I nodded with satisfaction.

"You can't just leave me here being tied up! You can't find Aemond without my guidance anyways." She pleaded. I stopped abruptly, knowing it was true. I needed her guidance to seek Aemond before dawn. I rolled my eyes and went back to her, loosened the ropes to the bedpost, and gripped both of her wrists, pushing her along as a signal to stride in front of me. Then we were out of the chamber.

Reader's POV

Whenever I walked slowly, Lucerys would thrust the tip of his blade into my back. I winced, not believing he would truly do this to me. I did not hesitate to go to the throne room first. Aemond may be sleeping in his bedchamber at this hour, but he's infatuated with the Iron Throne lately. Luke would stay alert and call for a halt to hide whenever he senses someone was around.

I led him down a series of spiral stairs, out of the holdfast, through a bridge, walking by courtyards, and eventually reaching the building in which the throne room was situated. "There's two sentinels in there guarding the hallway, I hope you're ready." I turned to look at him, expecting to see an anxious face. But instead, he looks prepared for the upcoming predicament. The doors were ajar so we sneaked into it.

Before the guards could take out their swords from the scabbards, Luke hurled a throwing knife into one of them. Hitting him in the ribs. The other one rushed to Luke, their blades collided together making sparks. After a few more exchanges, Luke found a chink in his armour and strike hard and fast. The guard collapsed.

"What is all the commotion?" The double doors to the throne room flew open, revealing my uncle Gwayne Hightower and the other kingsguards. How can Lucerys defeat them! He's doomed. "Uncle!" Walking to him but Lucerys pulled me back, placing me right in front of him while the sword he was holding raised to my throat defensively making me his hostage. Swords were drawn out.

"Sheathe the steel or I'll kill her." Luke said. They all gave each other apprehensive glances before taking a few steps back. But not my uncle who stood at the doorway. "Ah, aren't you Rhaenyra's boy? This is hardly an act of reverence for the princess, lad." The two of them stare intensely at each other until Luke breaks the staring contest. "It would please me if I could see the regent." For my sake, my uncle moved from his spot at the doorway and led us into the room with a high ceiling.

Luke's POV

Aemond was sitting upon the throne, legs dangled from one of its arms. A few of the council members were there discussing important matters with him. The discussion stopped when we arrived. My presence seemed to leave Aemond totally dumbstruck. Good.

"Nephew, did the Seven send you back to me? You should put that pointy thing away from my sister by the way." y/n casted me a side eye. Aemond grinned a mirthless grin, there was no true joy in it. "The gods have sent me back for vengeance, uncle." I said with an emotionless mien. "Ah yes, I hope the skills you've been honing were worthy of a vengeance. How can I assist you, my dear nephew?" Obviously teasing about my skills in arms.

"I demand a court of swords. A fight to the death." Everybody in the room tensed. "What." Aemond's face twitched. y/n shifted in my grasp uncomfortably. "You and me. No one else. If I kill you, you'll die. If you kill me, you'll get y/n." Making my point clear. Aemond stood up from his seat and started pacing back and forth, pretending to be considering my request. He stopped his pacing. "Deal." His head snapped to me, giving me a murderous look.

While he slowly walks down from the dais, away from his precious throne, one of the kingsguard escorted y/n away from me. She gave me a tight squeeze of my hand before I let go of her wrists, unsure what it meant. Good luck? Aemond is too good for you? The others walked away from the center, making space for the fight. We came face to face at the center, staring at each other from opposite sides.

"Any last words?" The regent chuckled. "Go to seven hells." I replied. I heard y/n coughed. Within a dozen heartbeats, Aemond's sword came down from above. I blocked the overhead strike that will likely deeply injure me if I didn't deflect it. After a series of attacks, Aemond scowled. Not expecting that I'm still standing. Smiling, a new surge of energy coursed through my body. I fight my way for vengeance.

Reader's POV

I stand in one corner, witnessing the scene unfolding before me. One is my brother. One is my lover. I didn't want to lose either of them. Lucerys seems to be under control, attacking and counterattacking the whole time. He suddenly slipped into Aemond's guard and a thin line formed at my brother's thigh. Blood dripped from it.

Brother looked up from his injured thigh and started bombarding a whirlwind of attacks toward Luke. Anger rose within him. Luke tried to parry all the blows but one had slashed him across his shoulder, causing him to stagger. Aemond continued his furious assaults without giving Luke a moment of respite. I can see the energy that seems to course through him was gradually seeping away.

Before he can regain his previous confidence, Aemond sliced another cut at his sword arm. He swung his sword desperately at Aemond, trying to do some damage to my brother to no avail. His sword arm was injured. He can't fight. He's faltering. I need to do something.

My brother raised his sword, ready to strike diagonally at Luke. For a second, Luke gripped his sword two-handed, trying to heft it. It lifted, but I know that it won't make it in time to deflect the upcoming blow. I am aware of the amount of force Aemond is building up for that specific attack.

Before the sword landed upon Luke, I hurtled myself towards the fighting ground. I heard my uncle yelling. And then the kingsguards and councilors. My back facing Aemond, the blade came down from above and slashed a long cut across my back. I dropped to one knee and yelped.

Three wounds in one night. Given by two people I love. The boys' eyes widened at the sight. The fighting ceased, Aemond was transfixed by the affliction he caused upon me. "Please, I beg both of you to end this feud." I said. Elsewhere I heard my uncle ordering someone to summon a maester.

The once sweet boy came to me, swords trailing behind him. He dropped to the floor beside me, putting his sword down and arms wrapping around me. "Why?" He said, his eyes brimming with tears, but he forced it not to pour out. "Se ra gaoman syt jorrāelagon (The things I do for love)" I beamed weakly.

Then tears fell from his face, dropping into mine. He pressed his forehead against mine. His curly hair prickled me, but I didn't care much about that. I miss his hugs. I can feel the wetness soaking my back. I can get a whiff of the metallic tang of blood. I am exhausted. I fell asleep in the arms of Lucerys Velaryon.

Epilogue (Reader's POV)

I opened my eyes groggily, looking around my bedchamber. Sunlight filtered through the window filling the room with warmth. Luke sat on the bed. I used my elbow to raise myself into a sitting position, he gave me some assistance. I can feel the bandages wrapped around my torso, probably done by the maester.

We stared at each other for a long moment before he smiled. He smiled! Such a wondrous thing! After that, he gave me a gentle peck on the lips, which I did not expect. A faint blush materialized on my cheeks and he indulged in that.

He told me of Arrax's sacrifice, how he was rescued by a fisher family from the shore, his life after he joined the assassin guild, and how he didn't reacquaint himself with his family and watched them from afar whenever he was at Dragonstone. He does love his family. I listened to him intently.

He told me that he would leave me soon, that this is no place for an assassin. "We could fake my death. I want to be with you, away from war and court intrigues. Kill me." I demanded. Lucerys smirked.

#lucerys velaryon x reader #lucerys velaryon x y/n #lucerys velaryon #hotd fic #hotd x reader #lucerys velaryon one shot #hotd one shot #lucerys velaryon imagine

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