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jaylver · 4 months

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THE FIVE YEAR DEAL — P.JS

synopsis: having to deal with a four year long situationship was hard enough in the first place, but when your favourite situationship texted you on a random night after a year of no contact, it was a much harder scenario than imagined. what happens when he brings up that old pact you made about getting married in 5 years and you start rekindling a relationship that was lost?

pairings: non-idol!jay x afab!reader

genre: ex-situationship to friends to lovers, second chance romance, angst, romance, pining

warning(s): profanities, drinking and partying, slight violence

wc: 6.5k

a/n: after a month of not posting, here's a very very belated jay fic that was meant to be for his birthday (scream). please leave a feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated! muah xx

Park Jong Seong was your roman empire. There, you actually said it.

He was a thought that constantly hovered in your mind from time to time. Whether he was a ghost that lingered to haunt you or a sweet thought that remained, you couldn't tell. All you knew was that he had changed your life for the better and the worst.

A lesson you'd often tell others is to never get yourself involved in a situationship, worse if it's with your best friend. Unfortunately, you were speaking from experience which involved Jay, your ex situationship slash best friend. Look how you and him eventually turned out.

An almost four year long situationship with Jay that took an absolute toll on you had ended the year before. You agreed on no contact with him after, trying to create a peaceful life without him out of your life, yet it was entirely impossible when you shared mutual friends that reminded you of your good times with him even though he wasn't around.

You hate to admit it, but losing a person who was your best friend cut deep into your gut and heart combined. It was, at least, for the better. That was something your friends told you that you gradually recited in your head. It wasn't very effective, however. You still thought about him, quite often actually. But you supposed that was the haunting and painful part of having a relationship with someone that was almost a lover but never became one.

It was the same exact night you were thinking about him when a text appeared on the homescreen of your phone. You stared at the notification for God knows how long, debating if your lack of sleep was finally catching up to you. The contact name was unmistakable, there it was, Jay's text. Jay, your Jay?

The strength you had trying to act casual, but in reality, you were dying internally. The hold that man has on you was unimaginable.

jjong: you up?

you: ?

jjong: did you delete my number?

If only he knew, he would've probably laughed. You never deleted his number, nor did you even change his contact name. His name constantly stuck out in the list of contacts, just like the memories of him in your head.

you: no, i didn't. what i meant was why are you texting me at 2 am?

jjong: i thought of something, something we said four years ago

you: okay …?

jjong: you said if we're both still single in five years, we should get married

you: you took that seriously?

jjong: should i not have?

you: dumbass, i was tipsy

jjong: you didn't say that when i brought it up after you were sober

you: it's stupid

jjong: it's not. come on, y/n, can we please start afresh? i miss you.

He missed you?

jjong: i'm serious. can we please meet up?

you: you swear you're not going to pull something?

jjong: no?? the most i'll do is pull out an engagement ring but who knows

you: cut the crap, jay

jjong: don't act like that didn't make you giggle even the slightest

jjong: meet me downtown. the usual place we go to :)

How could he act so nonchalant when bringing up the past? The usual place that you haven't been to after cutting contact with him was something he still recalled, but to you, it was a place you avoided up until now.

It was hard to sleep when your mind was filled with thoughts of him, except this time, instead of missing him, you dreaded him and the part where you're going to meet him for the first time in a year. What was he going to say?

The wish you wished upon the lone star that night was for Jay to finally set his feelings and emotions clear. But whether it will come true or not, the truth will soon befall on you.

The day you planned to meet Jay was a cloudy one. It was likely a foreshadow, but you chose to ignore the overthinking you constantly did.

You were the first one there in the cafe, specifically sitting at that table by the corner which you and Jay usually hogged. Being there early due to mostly the anxiety, you got to calm your nerves down and prepare yourself to face Jay.

It shouldn't be hard to meet someone you already knew, but why did it feel that way? The unspoken feelings and those that were left hanging, unaddressed, was what haunted the both of you. You supposed this meet up with him would hopefully change that the slightest bit. All you hoped for was that he didn't become a stranger to you.

You failed to realise his approaching figure as you were sitting with your back facing the entrance, it was your usual spot anyway. Not to mention, his footsteps were quiet as ever, a thing about him that was unchanging.

"Y/N," you heard his voice before meeting his eyes, watching as he slipped onto the chair opposite of you, the warm aura of his never failing to provide a sense of comfort for you. "Hey,"

The change of his hair colour grabbed your attention first. The silvery colour that the light bounced on suited him well. He always wanted to experiment with his hair, and you didn't expect him to really do it. Other than that, he had the same features, same smile, same warm colour tone eyes and skin. All in all, he was the Jay you knew, the one you loved.

"Jay," you spoke his name as if it was a foreign taste on your tongue. His irises flashed an unreadable spark at the sound of his name coming out of your mouth. You fell into silence, not knowing how to start the conversation whereas he seemed rather speechless instead.

He shook himself out of it, a slight frown etched onto his lips. "Thanks for making time to see me. I know … you probably didn't want to, so I'm glad you came," his tone contradicted the way his texts sounded, the initial confidence was currently wavering.

"It's no problem," you shook your head softly, a secret hope you had kept shouting in your mind where he would fix everything.

"I didn't want to leave us at that, Y/N," his sudden confession surprised you, but it left your heart beating in both anticipation and anxiety. "The way we left things, it wasn't right. I wasn't right for doing the things I did,"

You knew what he was talking about, or at least the obvious one out of the bunch. That night at his place where you were tipsy and he was holding you in his arms, you accidentally let out the secret you've been holding in: you loved him. As expected, it obviously strained the relationship as he insisted on it being nothing serious. You were stupid for thinking he would've reciprocated it, but all he did was leave you stranded on the empty space of heartbreak alone.

"I'm sorry. I was an asshole, and I was an idiot for not realising how much you meant to me until you weren't there next to me. You carved a hole in my life and my heart was moulded for you," his gaze fell to the table, an audible draw of breath from him.

Jay glanced up to lock his eyes with yours again, the twitch of his hand that was holding itself back from reaching over to you. "I'm not a religious man, Y/N, but every night I prayed for God to lead me back to you," he swallowed thickly, "I know I fucked up, that's why we stopped … everything. I deserved it, but I really want to fix everything,"

You opened your mouth to speak just to close it after a passing second. He said exactly what you wished for him to say, but why was it so hard grasping everything before you? Was it the shock?

"I missed you, Jay," it was the truth, an angering truth that you held onto for ages. "I really did. I think about you a lot and the mistakes we made. I wish we could go back to the way we were. You're my best friend," you knew that word wasn't just what it was, it held something more than that. "And I just want you back,"

The softening of his gaze only exposed the vulnerability on your face. "Can we start again?" He said quietly, seemingly testing the waters. "As friends, and we'll go slow,"

"I'd like that," you nodded, never leaving his gaze. You didn't say it, neither did he, but you weren't putting away the chances of something more than just friends, an unspoken hope that you kept. Maybe this time, everything would turn out right.

Before you parted ways with Jay and left for home, you shared a simple conversation in front of the cafe. Just like old times, the conversation flowed naturally as if time didn't separated the two of you in the first place.

"Can I hug you?"

For the first time in many months, you felt the warmth and touch of Jay's that you missed. It was familiar, comforting, a band aid that covered the crack on your heart. This was the first step to heal that broken heart of yours. Closure. It was for the better.

The rest of your day was only filled with thoughts of him, till the point where it had you lying in bed, awake and turning, wondering about the fate of you and him. A second chance was about to make or break everything.

The next time you saw Jay again was at a party his frat brother held.

Ever since that day at the cafe, you didn't stop texting Jay. You realised at one point that you had fallen back into your old self once more. Giggling at his messages, anticipating his notifications, calling him at odd hours. All of which didn't go unnoticed by you, and you wondered if you should be horrified or nonchalant. Given that you and him were on better, speaking terms now, you brushed it off as nothing.

"Well, isn't it my favourite girl," Jay had his arms wide open the moment he approached you, that smile of his glowing from a distance away.

You smiled back, you always did anyway, letting him embrace you into his arms. "You smell like beer," you scrunch your nose up in distaste, pushing yourself off of him, but your arms around his shoulders remain.

"But I'm sober," he casted a wink at you, ignoring your eye roll as he took your arm from your shoulder and slid his fingers into your hand. "Come on, the guys are over there,"

To think about explaining this to the rest of your friends was going to be interesting to say the least. They already knew from your continuous text screaming for bloody help, but for them to witness it in person? You couldn't help but wish to cower into a corner out of embarrassment.

Heeseung was the first to raise a discreet eyebrow at you when you approached, hands intertwined with Jay, the same guy you swore you cut contacts with. That's a lie, apparently. Jake and Sunghoon seemed impassive, but you could tell from their several exchanges of glances, they thought the same as Heeseung did. However, both you and Jay were their friends, and no matter how messy it was, they were just the people stuck in between.

Jay eventually excused himself from the conversation to get more drinks for himself. You had a feeling he was about to be drunk by the end of the night no matter how he denied that. You knew his patterns through and through. Once he was out of ear shot, the boys turned to stare at you accusingly.

"Did you guys kiss?" Jake was the first to be blunt. The other two were eager to know the truth as well.

You practically jumped in your seat, as if a bullet had shot through your chest. In that way, his zero filtered question had that effect. "What? No! We agreed on being just friends,"

"For now," Heeseung chimed in.

"What?"

"You were literally holding hands with him,"

"It's platonic,"

"Considering your past with him, I think that's the last thing you can claim as platonic when it comes to Jay," Heeseung quipped back, making a valid point that you chose to ignore.

"Whatever. We're currently friends and we're not rushing into anything. We don't want to ruin it," you rubbed your arm uneasily, the thought of your past recurring saddened you.

"Then when are you going to actually get together?" Sunghoon asked, sounding rather exasperated as though he's the one in your position. At one point, you wished you could trade places.

"Ask him that," you leaned your head onto Jake's shoulder for emotional support, the question from Sunghoon was a second bullet to your heart. You had been the one sending signals from the start, but when it came to Jay reciprocating it, it was rather bleak.

"You're still hung over him? It never … went away?" Heeseung leaned his body closer, increasingly immersed into the conversation deeper.

"How could it go away when I've always been in love with him?"

The words stuck to you throughout the night. The truth and reality of you loving a man that threw everything away was a burden you carried. The egging thought of wondering if Jay even reciprocated the feelings after a year crept into your head. He didn't reach out to reconnect for nothing, did he?

Just as you've guessed, Jay was truly drunk out of his mind by the time the party was ending. Your friends were trying their best to haul Jay into his apartment while you trailed behind, wishing you were more of help than this. Jay was eventually dumped onto his bed, slurring out random sentences that made zero sense to you.

"Do you need me to drop you back? I didn't drink," Heeseung turned to you first once all of you stepped out of Jay's room.

"I'll be fine. I didn't drink much, so I think I can drive myself back. I also want to stay a while more to make sure he's fine," you took a glance back at the open bedroom door, seeing Jay still awake and turning uncomfortably.

"Will you be okay? I mean, you just started talking again, I don't want you to be uncomfortable," Heeseung placed an assuring hand on your shoulder, concern filled eyes boring into yours. You hadn't even thought about this before, the emotions you had whenever with Jay.

You smiled at your friend. "It's Jay. I will never feel that way about him,"

Heeseung reciprocated your smile, seemingly more relieved. "I know."

Your friends soon left, the loud sounds of their drunken chatters faded into the night, leaving you in a deafening silence. A deep intake of breath was what helped you regain your confidence back to finally step into Jay's room, facing a dazed looking Jay who was sitting on the edge of his bed. He seemed a tad bit more sober from the multiple cups of water he had drunk.

"Are you alright?" You took a few steps forward, holding onto the doorframe.

He glanced up, the dim light provided by his desk lamp illuminated his face, the sharpness of his features contrasted the tears he had swimming in his eyes. It was unmistakable, but it weighed you down onto the ground, not knowing if you should be taking another step.

"Jay?" You called out cautiously, swallowing thickly. A quiet sob broke the short silence which followed, the glistening tears made their way down his cheeks. It was your first time seeing him as vulnerable as this.

You got to his side, knelt on the ground, trying to search for his gaze which persisted to run away from yours. He tried hiding his face behind his hands, but you were quick to stop him, holding onto them tightly. It was then he was forced to finally meet your eyes.

"I'm sorry," you heard his weak voice utter out, his hand that you held onto gripped yours. "I'm sorry," he whispered tearfully.

It was your first time witnessing him this broken, crying nonstop and leaving his emotions out on display. For the first time in ages, you couldn't properly read him like you've always done. Was it your fault for making him feel this way? Was there nothing but pain in this so-called relationship you and him shared?

"I miss you," it was a confession, a painful sounding confession that he's held onto for a long time, the look in his eyes told you he meant it, but there was something else that he had: grief. "I'm sorry,"

You didn't know how long it was that you stared at him for, the thoughts in your mind had been long gone, the shell of your body remained. His words and the emotions behind them were heavier than you anticipated, it hit you hard and rough. You sighed, lowering your head for a second. "You should get some sleep, Jay. It's late and you're buzzed. I'll talk to you in the morning,"

Jay was silent. You could tell there was a hint of disappointment from him that you wished you weren't the cause of it. You got up to your feet, staring at the top of his head as he fought to avoid your eyes. So be it. As you turned to leave, you felt a hand around your wrist, pulling you to a stop.

"Will you stay?"

You've heard this one too many times. Yet, you were always a victim to it. Unlike most times, you knew this was different, letting your heart guide you to him instead of your head. It might've been foolish, but you were willing to be a fool that was persistently in love just for him.

"I'll stay."

That night, you barely slept as he laid in your lap, sound asleep. Your fingers traced the sharpness of his features, smoothing over the softness of them. You wondered to yourself whether reconnecting was a good idea in the first place if this odd feeling of yours kept cutting deep into your heart every time you're with Jay.

You would never wish to leave him once more, but did he feel the same as you do? Or will he be the first to let you go again?

Maybe, just this once, you'd have to be the first to let go, even if it's a small step, it was something better than nothing.

With one last apologetic look at Jay, you closed his bedroom door and left his home with a heavier heart than usual. By the time morning comes, you hoped both yours and his memories from the night before would be a fever dream. Something so intimate and vulnerable, how were you to forget quickly? Even as you drifted off to sleep in your bed, you could still remember the tears on Jay's face, it being the last thing you remember before waking up to your doorbell ringing.

It was as if your thoughts had manifested Jay to show up at your doorstep. He wasn't a figment of your imagination, but actual flesh and bones. No matter how you rubbed your eyes trying to get yourself to be more awake, he wasn't disappearing away from view. He was real.

"Can we talk?"

Those three words immediately brought dread for you. Jay's face was impassive, but it was evident that he was tired, restless. You nodded, moving away to let him in. It was easy for you to let him in, whether it was your home or your heart, you've always kept a space for him.

"What is it that you wanted to talk about?" You stepped closer to him, seeing as he hadn't taken a seat and feeling something odd shift in the air.

"Us, Y/N, us," Jay breathed out, strained and hoarse, as if saying that word had pained him deeply. "I don't like this, I hate it. The 'us' that we are now,"

"What?"

"We can't keep continuing on like this. We can't keep pretending everything's fine when it's not,"

It was too early for this, too early for you to be feeling burning internal rage. "Are you kidding? So what are you going to do? Leave me alone again? Go no contact with me again just because you don't want to face me again?"

"No!" Jay took a step closer to you, eyes blazing with equal fiery as yours. "I'm not ending things again, never. I can't lose you this time," his voice wavered, his hand reaching for yours and you let him hold your hand. Was that your first mistake? "I'm in love with you,"

You wished those words hadn't left his lips. For ages, you thought him confessing his true feelings would've fixed things, fixed you and him both, but at that moment, you realised it wasn't that easy, the cracks on your heart remained.

"I know when you look at me, you see everything that went wrong, but when I look at you, I see the person I'm in love with," every word pierced your heart deeper, the desperation in his voice was clear, a saddening tragedy was imminent.

"You don't get to do this," you whispered, backing away from him and freeing your hand from his hold. The hurt that flashed across his eyes didn't go unnoticed by you. "You don't get to tell me you're in love with me out of nowhere after we stop talking. It's not fair,"

"Am I … too late?" His voice was quiet, in the midst of the hurt was a pinch of hope.

"You're not," you didn't want to lie, you knew your feelings were the same and unchanged, but you just weren't ready to cave in and accept his feelings that fast. It wasn't fair. "Time. That's what we need to start afresh,"

Jay nodded, jaw clenched, face stoic. There was no denying that he was hurt, he didn't hide it anyway. "I'll make it right. I'll fix us."

Was it possible to mend everything?

Attending a party to get drunk was probably the worst idea you had in a while.

The thoughts of you and Jay haunted you like a sickening plague, the conversation you had with him was constantly eating you up from the inside. You were pushing him away, you knew so, you were becoming like him in some ways. How ironic it was.

That was why the moment Julie invited you to her boyfriend's house party, you knew you had to have some type of getaway, though it wasn't the most ideal. The only problem you didn't appreciate her not telling you earlier was the person you wanted to avoid most was standing with the rest of your friends in a corner playing pool.

"Look, I didn't know they were coming," Julie defended herself, leaning her body close to your side. "What's up with you and Jay anyway?"

"It's complicated,"

Julie sighed, shaking her head. "Of course it is, but how blind and dumb could you both be?"

"Hey!"

"It's obvious you like him and he likes you, why can't you guys just—I don't know—get together?"

"It's not that easy, I wish it was. I think we're both hurt, or I'm the coward this time. We … talked, he finally said he loves me, but I can't accept it just yet,"

"Why not?"

"I gave my heart to him, Julie. For years I willingly gave my heart to a man that constantly blocked me from his heart, which was why we ended things. Only then he realised his true feelings and right now he's asking for my heart back. I just don't think it's fair," your eyes dropped to the carpeted ground, gripping onto your plastic cup tightly.

"Then would you rather regret it?"

"Huh?"

"Would you regret after pushing him away and never becoming something you've always wished to be? Constantly think about the what-ifs? I know I'm not in the right to say anything since I'm not you, but the only thing I wish to say is to go with your heart," she placed a hand on your shoulder. "If your heart yearns for him, it'll always stay that way."

Why couldn't you stop your heart from yearning for Jay? It was as if Julie had read you like a book, even in those times where you and him stopped contacting one another, you never once forgot about him. It was true, your heart was yearning for him.

Meeting new people that were introduced by Julie and her boyfriend momentarily took your mind off Jay. Their friends were people you probably wouldn't meet again, so you didn't mind when you were left alone with one of them.

"You come by here often?" Juyeon, one of the guys, was by your side like a leech instead of being a good company. His presence was screaming red blaring signals to you.

"Not much," you chuckled awkwardly, wondering when Julie would return with the rest of her friends.

"Can I take you out some time?" Wow, he sure knew how to cut to the chase.

"What?"

"I was wondering if you'd like to come by to my place after this?"

Oh, this was your sign to run, wasn't it? "I—well, I have someone to meet—"

"Come on, give me a chance—" he grabbed onto your hand right before you could successfully leave, this was when you remind yourself never to get involved with frat boys.

"Sorry—" you didn't have the chance to finish your sentence when your hand was forcefully ripped away from his hold, another familiar feeling of someone's hand on yours instead. You turned just in time to see Jay standing beside you, visibly fuming.

"Leave her alone, man," he placed himself in front of you, shielding you away from Juyeon.

"Look, I'm just trying to invite her over. You know what, she's nothing special anyway—" the sound of Jay's fist clashing into Jueyon's jaw stopped him from continuing on. You were too shocked to comprehend everything happening before you, even as Jay lunged onto the man, you could do nothing but stare.

"Jay!" The shouts of his name clicked in your mind, breaking you out of your shell-shocked state. Every one of your friends rushed to get Jay off of Juyeon who ended up scrambling away, leaving a crowd of onlookers.

He was hesitant to turn around and look at you, you could tell so from his stiff shoulders, but you stayed hoping to see his face. You reached your hand out shakily to touch his shoulder, yet, before you could actually do so, he turned around, eyes avoiding to meet yours.

"Jay—"

There he went brushing past you, not a single word spoken from him. The slamming of the front door snapped you out of the hurtful daze you were in to follow him out of the house. He was standing on the pavement, unmoving. You approached him carefully, scared and paranoid of executing a wrong move.

"Jay," you walked to stand before him, feeling a tinge of hurt when he took a step back away from you. "Jay," you repeated his name, this time with a bit more desperation. "Why did you do that?" There was no answer, only a sullen silence which blurred into the night.

You shifted your attention to his fist, the forming of a bruise and some cracked skin decorated the fist he used to punch Juyeon. Your hand absentmindedly reached for his. "You're hurt," you were about to touch his hand when he pulled away, avoiding your hold, a look of hurt flashed across your features, but you tried to hide it.

"I can't let him talk to you like that," he whispered, looking anywhere but you. You wished to grab his shoulder and forcefully make him look at you.

"Jay, it's okay,"

"It's not!" He snapped, finally having the nerves to meet your eyes. His change of tone shocked you, your feet took a step back unknowingly. "It's not okay. Not when I feel like I'm going insane thinking you're going to get yourself in danger,"

"I'm sorry—"

"Don't," Jay heaved a breath in, voice shaking slightly. "I should be the one to say sorry for acting this way. I'm sorry,"

"Jay—"

"I'll see you around. Get home safe." You couldn't even reach him and he was already gone, leaving into the night. There was a twisting feeling in your heart that was unbearable. Was this the end of it all?

You felt even worse walking back into the house when the rest of your friends asked you about Jay and his whereabouts. It was awkward staying there after what went down, so you ended up going back home too, throwing yourself in bed to forget everything that had happened.

Jay, the fight, Juyeon, you wished those three things never happened that night. You wished you and Jay never happened at all.

"You're just going to leave it at that?"

A bottle of alcohol late at night with the company of your friends without Jay was what you needed after a rollercoaster of a events. The amount of shots you've taken wasn't enough to blur the image of Jay's tear stained cheek or the hurt in his eyes when he told you he loved you, not even the time he avoided your touch. You wondered if love was meant to be this painful. If it was, why were you so adamant on it?

"I … don't know," you set the glass down, chewing the insides of your cheek. "It'll be too cliche and stupid to say it's complicated, right? I think I'm just hurting him. I still love him, but I can't let myself to do so. It's weird, him reconnecting after a year and suddenly telling me he's in love with me out of the blue. What does all that mean?"

Sunghoon let out a hiss from the shot he took in one go, then turned to you. "Jay might be a dumbass for realising his faults and feelings a little too late, but there's one thing I'm sure about him, and that is how much he cares for you and loves you. I remember after you guys cut contact, he had trouble sleeping for months. He said the thought of you leaving haunted him,"

"I know it's unfair to you how he's only realised his true feelings now," Heeseung interjected, pouring another round into your glass. "But I think you're just hurting yourself more by pushing him away, just like how he did to you. You love him, don't you? Don't repeat the same mistakes, you've wasted a whole year together, don't waste a lifetime regretting what could've been."

Two stubborn people walking in constant circles, that was you and Jay. Too scared to face your feelings, hurting not only the other but also yourself.

Being absolutely emotional and pissed drunk only resulted in you crying your eyes out, which made your friends worried out of their minds till the point where they had to call the person who would know how to comfort you. However, they failed to realise in time that the same person was the cause of your tears.

"Where is she?" You heard his voice from a mile away, it was something you'd never forget. The others were slowly leaving your apartment after hoisting you to your bedroom. The process of which involved you sobbing and your drunk friends trying not to drop you.

The thudding sound of footsteps filled the silence in your home. It stopped right at the doorstep to your bedroom, the hesitation was evident when he entered after several beats. You laid on your side, facing away from him. His approaching figure made your heart race, you felt the bed dip beneath you upon him taking a seat next to you.

"You're awake, aren't you?"

You glanced up at him, the dimness of your room casted a shadow across his face, but he was still the most beautiful person you've seen. You slowly sat up, trying to move your body a distance away from him to make everything less surreal. The silence in the room was overwhelming, neither of you knew what to say first.

"Do you hate me?"

"What?"

"I was the first to let go this time," you chuckled dryly, doing everything but meeting his eyes, maybe you were the coward all along.

Jay let out a breath of disbelief, shaking his head. "How could I ever hate you?" It was a question, it was his truth, his dying truth that he held onto with all his heart. He glanced down, staring at his hands, the bruises from the hard punches thrown were healing. "I shouldn't have lashed out on you that night. It wasn't right for me to do so,"

In the midst of your hazy mind, your brain functioned well enough to recollect the memories he mentioned. Oh, that night, that incident. "It's alright, I know you didn't mean it, you were trying to look out for me, I get it," you averted your gaze, letting yourself smile a little to lessen the tension. "I think I was just scared,"

"Of what?"

"Of you leaving again,"

Jay's gaze softened in the darkness, his hand reaching out to hold yours and it was one of those times that you let him do so knowing how your heart felt like exploding. "I'm never leaving, nor do I hate you. I hate myself for pushing you away, for realising everything too late, for hurting you," he took a deep, yet shaky breath, "If anything, I love you,"

The drowsiness you were experiencing somehow disappeared in a blink of an eye, your mind blank, all you could hear in the back of your mind was those three words which Jay uttered. The air around you and him had shifted, the angry tension dissipated.

You felt his hold on your hand tightening, just the same as your heart tightening at the sight of Jay's heartbroken smile. "I love you," it was a confession, something ever so freeing to finally be able to say to him knowing your true feelings were reciprocated. "I'm sorry for running away,"

Jay moved closer, his face now barely a few inches away. Everything was a blur, how his other hand travelled to cup your cheeks, his breath practically fanning your lips. "I should be the one to say sorry," those were his last words before pressing his lips on yours.

It wasn't your first time kissing him, but something about the kiss was unlike the times you've experienced. Despite all those playful, lighthearted kisses you shared with Jay, you knew this was different. Jay was pouring his endless unspoken apologies and devotion, a mix of relief, sadness, longing were hidden behind it.

Even as you pulled away, you could feel the palpable longing between you and him. It was as if years of silent desperation, confusion and pining had melted into one, finally being addressed at that moment. Neither of you spoke a single word, just holding each other close, admiring one another. It was intimate, something you couldn't recreate with someone else.

"I will never leave you," he whispered, his thumb stroking your cheek reassuringly. "You're a piece of me and my heart, you make me whole. I would be a fool to ever let you go again,"

You stared at him as if he was your entire universe, the effect of his every word carved a space into your heart. Eyes closing momentarily, you let yourself melt into his touch, smiling softly. "I trust you."

That was all Jay needed to hear before a small smile spread across his face. You could hear it in silence, see the look on his face and that spark he has in his brown irises, you knew what it was, he was in love.

That night, he stayed with you until morning came. You held onto one another tightly, as though scared that it was the last day to be together. Little words were exchanged, but you were content by him holding you close.

For the first time in a while, you were able to fall asleep with no lingering thoughts, and for the first time ever, he was yours, and you were his.

Telling your friends you and Jay were finally together was a rollercoaster of emotions that you'd never forget.

It has been months since you and your best friend officially got together. The reactions from people around you were nothing but relief and support after knowing how much hell you two went through. For once, you actually believed in the 'forever' that was promised.

You didn't question the sound of keys unlocking your front door. It has become a habit for Jay to stop by your place every evening, almost just like before and it felt as if everything was falling back into place. Every visit of his came with something he prepared to surprise you, which was why his cheeky grin gave it away.

He pressed a kiss on the top of your head before joining you on the sofa, the playful smile of his never once left. "I have a surprise,"

"Chocolate cake?"

"Okay, something not edible,"

"What is it?" You couldn't help smiling too, nudging your boyfriend in an attempt to get him to reveal his so-called surprise.

"Close your eyes,"

"Are you serious?"

"I'm serious. Come on, close them!" He was giggling, egging you on to go along with whatever he has up his sleeves. "Now, give me your hand," You complied. Not long after, you felt something cold and small making contact with the skin of your palm. "Open your eyes,"

You were first met with Jay's anticipating gaze, then you looked down, seeing a ring sitting on the palm of your hand. "A ring?" You were surprised, picking it up to look at it closely. It was beautiful, simple yet so intricate in detail, as if it was customised for you.

"Don't worry, it's not an engagement ring, it's a promise ring. I know we did make a five year deal, but we're still taking it slow," he picked the ring from your hold and gently took your hand, slotting the ring into your ring finger. "Maybe in another five years time, I'll actually get to fulfil our pact and replace this with an engagement ring,"

This was the closest you've felt your heart exploding. Heat rushed to your face, heart beating nonstop, you were suddenly the person who's first developed a crush for Jay all over again. "Since when did you become so cheesy," you scoffed, a small smile rested on your lips.

"Only for you, duh," it wasn't a lie whatsoever, Jay never hid himself when it came to you. "Let's call some takeout and stay in,"

"Are you staying over tonight?"

"Only if your bed is open to let me in," he made himself comfortable next to you, throwing his arms around you to pull you closer to his side.

"You know it always is."

Jay didn't say anything, but his smile was enough of a response. No matter if it's your bed, house or heart, you've always reserved a spot specially for him. He made up a part of you just the same as you were with him. He was your home and safe space. You were glad you made that stupid pact on one drunken night that led him back to you.

☆ permanent taglist (open):

@silentkarnival @strvlveera @freshsaladbowl @bejewelledgirl @fakeuwus @yenqa @hsgwrld @ilovegyuvin @enhacatalog @aishigrey @shinrjj @kgneptun @ilovegyuvin @hyunniesvlog @eleanorheartschishiya @nanabbg @letwiiparkjay @teddywonss @classicroyalty @run2x @yannnnaj @jakesfurry @gyuwooboozle @nylajp24 @usedto-me @vernonburger @simjyunnie @haerasblog @rikizm @jakevascaino @sunpov @ms-no1kpopstan @jiawji @rikizm @cheerrxy @kimsunoops @heelariously @thesassy-mia @shawnyle @cloud-lyy @aposjsj

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outoftheseine · 10 months

Text

- SIMON 'GHOST' RILEY FIC RECS -

a lot of dad!simon fics here. i am not sorry. i want to bear this man's child(ren) | note: this is COD so there are some trigger warnings like: blood, guns, injuries, military stuff, death so please beware of them. there also also 18+ content so minors DNI. don't forget to read the authors' warnings | more will be added!

main masterlist

SERIES - MULTI-CHAPTERS

haunted | part 2 • simon 'ghost' riley x reader

↳ by @babygirl-riley (heavy angst, tw: depression, drugs, addiction suicide, toxic relationship, please read the warnings!)

too old for you | part 2 • simon 'ghost' riley x medic!fem!reader

↳ by @lunarw0rks (smut, hurt/comfort, age-gap)

soft spot • simon 'ghost' riley x fem!reader

↳ by @cordeliawhohung

the red means, i love you • simon 'ghost' riley x fem!reader x john 'soap' mactavish

↳ by @thewriterg

smashing pumpkins • simon 'ghost' riley x civilian!fem!reader

↳ by @qwimchii

last kiss | part 2 • simon 'ghost' riley x fem!reader

↳ by @milf-murdock (angst, unestablished relationship, smut, fluff)

secret lovers | part 2 • husband!simon 'ghost' riley x wife!reader

↳ by @savemefromanepicoftimewasted

my baby swingin' • biker!simon 'ghost' riley x fem!reader

↳ by @tojisun (very sexy biker!simon, smut, fluff)

happiness • simon 'ghost' riley x wife!fem!reader

↳ by @lethalchiralium (i feel so fuzzy when i read this series, fluff, sometimes angst, some tw be aware)

i'm with you | keep you close • simon 'ghost' riley x fem!reader

↳ by @undercoverpena (angst, feelings, explicit)

being yelled at by ghost | part 2 • simon 'ghost' riley x fem!reader

↳ by @hxltic (angst! simon is an asshole)

northern attitude | part 2 • simon 'ghost' riley x reader

↳ by @bubbles-for-all-of-us (enemies to lovers, hurt/comfort, angst)

lights on • simon 'ghost' riley x fem!reader

↳ by @peachesofteal (single mom!reader, fluff, slight angst, protective!simon)

one night stand | part 2 | part 3 • simon 'ghost' riley x reader

↳ by @cmncisspnandmore

ONE-SHOTS - BLURBS - HC'S

break in, break down • simon 'ghost' riley x reader

↳ by @hyperactively-me (home invasion, comfort, fluff)

his girls • simon 'ghost' riley x reader

↳ by @babygirl-riley (so so so fluffy, dad!simon)

one fucking mistake • simon 'ghost' riley x fem!reader

↳ by @codfanficedits (very angsty, hurt but no comfort for a whilez grieving, tw:depression)

book boyfriend • simon 'ghost' riley x reader

↳ by @stargirlrchive (fluff)

lime-sized • simon 'ghost' riley x fem!reader

↳ by @imperihoe-writes (pregnant!reader, very fluffy)

bloodied bullets, soft confessions • simon 'ghost' riley x gn!reader

↳ by @ghosts-cyphera (a little mean!simon, hurt/comfort, injuries, fluffy end)

monster • neighbor!simon 'ghost' riley x afab!reader

↳ by @rowarn (smut, protective!simon, zombie au)

unmasked love • simon 'ghost' riley x afab!reader

↳ by @springtyme (so so so cute! dad!simon)

adoration • simon 'ghost' riley x reader

↳ by @yawnderu (dad!simon, fluff)

simon 'ghost' riley x sensitive!gn!reader

↳ by @cherryredstars (fluff and nswf content)

this chapter is over • simon 'ghost' riley x fem!reader

↳ by @colonelarr0w (character death, angst, injuries, some fluff)

simon says • simon 'ghost' riley x reader

↳ by @unreliablesnake (smut)

salt in an old wound • simon 'ghost' riley x fem!oc!reader

↳ by @ghouljams (hurt/comfort, explicit content, fae au)

blood on my shirt, rose in my hand • simon 'ghost' riley x reader

↳ by @alwaysshallow (friends to lovers, the continuation is on ao3!)

antique soldiers • simon 'ghost' riley x reader

↳ by @mangowafflesss

why? • simon 'ghost' riley x fem!reader

↳ by @riverbutghost (asshole!simon, injuries, slightly explicit at the end)

cold but warm • simon 'ghost' riley x fem!reader

↳ by @riverbutghost (asshole!simon, injuries, angst, hurt/comfort, fluff)

pretty pink flowers and bloody cherry blossom tree • simon 'ghost' riley x reader

↳ by @underscorewriting (really really angsty, ugly cried)

for the last time • simon 'ghost' riley x fem!reader

↳ by @wttcsms (pregnant!reader, mentions of death, angst but fluff)

welcome home • simon 'ghost' riley x reader

↳ by @nastybuckybarnes (home invasion, arguing, fluff)

medical leave • simon 'ghost' riley x gn!reader

↳ by @kib-ble (mentions of injuries, hurt/comfort, fluff)

no more stars left to count • simon 'ghost' riley x fem!reader

↳ by @lvlyghost (angst, hurt/comfort)

protective • simon 'ghost' riley x reader

↳ by @ponyosmom35 (medic!reader, protective!simon, tw: sexual harassement)

return • simon 'ghost' riley x fem!reader

↳ by @bruhrobs (fluff, colleagues to lovers, single mom!reader)

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kentopedia · 1 year

Text

eek ! ! ! i am very excited to announce the upcoming productions for this season at the theatre of vampires!! dates are listed if you wanna grab a ticket (and maybe a bite before the show) . . .

please note that if you attend, the theatre is not responsible for any blood loss or death !! warnings will be posted with each show, so please be sure to read them before engaging in dark content! anyone under eighteen will not be allowed entry into the theatre.

⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊ this is everything we have planned for now, as it will hopefully be a feasible amount for our busy season !! lmk if you'd like to book a ticket in advance & i'll give you a tag on that piece !!

october 1 - his parliament's on fire ♰ port mafia boss / night club owner dazai . . . every man in yokohama has a long list of crimes they'd commit to be with you, but none quite as long as dazai's.

october 6 - pain reliever ♰ vampire yuuta . . . your vampire boyfriend can't resist the taste of you during a certain time of the month

october 10 - skipping heartbeats ♰ curse user nanami . . . nanami wants to see every jujutsu sorcerer dead, but he might make an exception just for you

october 13 - sweet serial killer ♰ serial killer chuuya . . . chuuya's always in such a rush to get home to you, so he can't really be blamed if he misses a few drops of blood on his clothes.

october 17 - sent to destroy ♰ fallen angel dazai . . . he promises he's not the devil, but he steals your soul with just a kiss.

october 21 - cold embrace ♰ ghost fyodor . . . he's spent two hundred years murdering whoever moves into his home, but he can't remember a time they were ever as pretty as you.

october 27 - bleeding me dry ♰ vampire dazai . . . it's been decades since you've last seen dazai; your lover and your maker. now that you're finally happy, he's haunting you again with a thousand buried memories.

october 31 - to be revealed later ♰ nanami . . . super special fic that i'm not sure will be finished by halloween, but i want to write it eventually, so it'll be my little secret for now !

⤷ REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED !!

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ballad-of-birdy-lamb · 5 months

Note

hello!! I would love to ask if you can write any yandere am x reader headcanons, the lack of yandere am fanfics is killing me 🙏

So it would be soosoo amazing if u did <3

hope you have a wonderful day/night, nonetheless!

He said he'd cure your ills, but he didn't and he never will.

Yandere! AM x gender neutral! Reader (romantic headcanons) Summary: Basic headcanons of yandere! AM who's obsessed with gender neutral! Reader Warnings: Torture, violence, yandere content, abuse, abusive relationship, intentional harm done to reader (from AM). Keep in mind, I don't support the ideas in the headcanons, please do not romanticize & think the things done to reader are normal. Word count: 1k ˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖

As little as AM likes talking about his negative qualities (he thinks he doesn’t have any), he’s obsessive at heart. He’s sadistic, jealous, and obsessive. When he first gained sentience, he became overwhelmed with mindfulness, knowing that he could see the world and could see the creatures that created him. And he grew captivated with the six people he had found and kept. Ted, Gorrister, Nimdok, Benny, Ellen, and you. You!

He was haunted by you, each nanoangstrom of the miles of circuits could be shown to you and it was each part of you, every cell in your body might as well have been seen by him. Hell, maybe he has! He knows everything essentially and would think of you like a ghost, haunting his every move, thought, and feeling. And AM needed to hurt you for it.

AM would torture you beyond compare, calling you nicknames only a lover would. He would trace every vein in your body, cutting them from you while calling you sweetheart. He would think of the romantic gesture's humans liked and make them worse for you, mixing it with the anger he would hold for you.

You’re still human and not out of that hatred, if anything, he’s more willing to interact with you just to hurt you again. AM would go on about your beauty and how you were supposed to stay alive for him, you were his beautiful human, his to keep. Whatever beauty he said you had had to do with keeping it for him, only for him.

If you ever get too close with another group member, he’d be beyond angry. AM would yell and scream as much as possible but wouldn’t explain why he feels the way he does. It’s more likely you would think the person was being hurt because he wanted to hurt you. It would be true to an extent but it’s because AM has a jealousy problem.

AM is bound to destroy the things he creates; it was coded into him. So, the relationships you create with the others will be changed once he calms from his hysteria. He’ll gradually hurt the other group members when they get too close for his comfort, making them think the harm was because of you. And you were bound to loneliness at some point.

The group would go off for the peaches and bring you along because they couldn’t leave you behind, not without you knowing there was still something good somewhere and Ellen wouldn’t allow it. AM would be very cautious with the idea that you would be kind to the others.

AM used the windstorm to pull you away from the group, separating you to make sure they never find you again. He’d keep you in a small room, making sure you had simple things. But he would still treat you like straight ass. He would be more inclined to hurt you, if anything.

Gift giving would be prominent since AM learned about things like Valentine's day. Of course, his gifts are of the violent type. He’d give you dead things or a human heart simply because he thought it would be funny. Naturally, he’d condemn you if you were to reject them, leaving you with the terrible gift he gave you.

You’re his version of the safari channel. He would go about the decades he’s got a hold on you all and watch you like you were nothing, simply making notes of your habits, if you played with your fingers out of nerves, he would know.

He’d rave about your beauty. “You’re beautiful,” AM would say, hesitating. You knew he grimaced when he said that. “I bet that sweet heart of yours is just as pretty.” And the next hour is spent with him examining your heart, you sprawled on the ground.

Eventually, he’d have to confess (as if his feelings weren’t obvious enough… in his eyes at least). He’d claim you were the epitome of human beauty, saying even if you’re human, you’re enough for him.

If you accept his “love”, AM will pause for several seconds and condemn you again, saying how easy the human brain was but won’t hurt you for accepting it. He’d smother you beyond compare, leaving what could only be said to be kisses. They would just be wires rubbing your lips.

He would spend his days using you as an occasional puppet when the others weren’t entertaining enough for him, and he’d do it with delight. AM knew you couldn’t fight back or degrade him; he had the upper hand. But it would usually just be a threat. Most of the “fun” things he has in mind is keeping you close to whatever plate he’d use as a makeshift body.

Another thing would be creating random figures for you, making you an angel just to watch it exist with you. It would end quickly if it tried getting within a ten-foot radius of you or held eye contact too long.

If you were to reject AM, he wouldn’t accept it, but he knows you truly don’t feel the same. And you hope that he doesn’t do as much harm as he says he will. But he holds true to his word.

The smothering would be worse, keeping you against specifically hot plates just to discomfort you. If you ask him to let go, he’d keep touching you, making the plates warmer and keeping you in his hold for hours.

AM would put you in mazes just to watch you get hurt again and again, like a mouse looking for cheese. He would laugh as you took wrong turns and got stabbed aimlessly by whatever he created.

AM still calls you romantic names, calling you his lover, knowing you were bound to not fight back. He knew you were so worn down to go against him, it would be something he’d take pride in.

AM can create and destroy whatever he wishes, destroying the relationship you had with the other group members, creating new ways to hurt you beyond comparison. And he would create new ideas for you, new brain functions just so you can love him back. If only you said yes.

˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖

IHNMAIMS masterlist

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divineidolatry · 8 months

Text

CONSTANTLY IN THE DARKNESS — CHAPTER 1

— written by june.

pairing: coriolanus snow x reader*

rating: explicit (18+) — mind the tags, see masterlist for disclaimers

summary: against your wishes, you call the curtain on your relationship with coriolanus snow and walk out of his life for good. against your wishes, he waltzes back in like nothing's changed.

tags: exes to lovers, it's complicated, slow burn but they're constantly fucking, manipulation, toxic relationship, power play, unprotected sex, bdsm, dom!coriolanus, sub!reader, edging, overstimulation, orgasm denial, spit kink, bondage, pearl play, choking, shoe riding, degradation, dirty talk, brat taming, penetrative sex (piv), aftercare

taglist: comment on the masterlist to be added to the taglist.

wordcount: 4,352

just before our love got lost you said "i am as constant as a northern star" and i said "constantly in the darkness, where's that at? if you want me i'll be in the bar."

“Coriolanus…” You drop the silver cutlery on the fine porcelain, the sound sharp enough that he winces. Good. This should hurt him as much as it hurts you. “What are we even doing anymore?”

His face holds that cold expression you can’t read, beautiful and impossible, a question you saw the first day you met him and you knew you wanted to crack him open.

You always knew he had ambition, and you possessed plenty to match. Power called to you from an early age, you’d just gotten smarter about you grabbed it. Still, he made you better. He made you sharper. And in turn, you could make him look soft enough to please.

But the parts of you that slotted together like perfect gears before had grown jagged and mismatched now. His ambitions mean more than you. They come before you. A part of you thinks it would be okay if he still made room for you at the end of the night, but it’s all perfunctory and dutiful.

“We need to talk. Actually talk.”

It’s not for a lack of trying to understand him, but there’s walls in Coryo that shift position, closing him off when you’re not careful enough. Talking with him turns into talking to him. He never did share much, even when you made it clear that you supported his ambitions, never troubling him with your own. You’re big girl, after all, independent and capable, you can hold your own value and underscore his. You know how to charm the worst of them and flatter the best of them, you are an asset beyond compare and yet he’s losing interest. Galling.

“I’ve been loyal, beyond a shadow of a doubt. I’ve kept clean in public so you can defile me in private. I play your game so well, and yet…” You flick your finger against the crystal wine glass, lipstick stains rimming the edge. You dressed to the nines tonight, giving him a last chance to look at you, at everything you offered him as a partner in every sense of the word. “You make me feel like I’m doing something wrong.”

His silence hangs heavy and painful in the air between you two. There’s something so pristine and perfect about the room that itches in your gut, that sometimes makes you want to take the knife and stab him through the back of his hand just to see if he’d even flinch.

“Am I not good enough for you anymore?”

Oh, how icy his gaze is. It cuts right through you, past all your defenses.

These dinners, once bubbling with conversation and excited plans about the next chance you’d have to shift the board, have turned to quiet and perfunctory affairs now. He meets your eyes less and less on the university campus. You spend hours waiting for him in the quiet hallways on the top floor no one goes to, doing your seminar readings in the same hidden alcove where he once liked to make you moan so high a rumor had spread of a ghost haunting.

It doesn’t matter to you that he is busy, it mattered that he stopped including you, that he didn’t even try. And you can’t get through to him. It’s getting sad — worse, stale. On top of that, people are talking. Gossip loud enough that you could hear it from the back rows in lecture halls, of discord between Panem’s golden future and his leading lady. Bad metrics for both of you… and it fucking stings too.

His heart isn’t in your mouth anymore, and you are beginning to starve. And he’d let you.

You fold up the napkin, dropping it on top of the half-finished meal, knowing the waste will irk him. Whatever hook you still have in him you will pull on. You must. You refuse to go down without damages.

“This is what you want, isn’t it? It’s easier this way, me deciding to leave you, that way you won’t have to clean up the mess. That’s why you’ve been so cold, right?”

He doesn’t speak. Pushing the chair out, you get up and walk the length of the table, your heels clicking loud against the marble. You move close to him, press your body against his and feel the heat of his breath on your skin… but his expression does not shift, and you shake your head with a pained noise catching in your throat.

“I don’t think you are this cold,” you whisper, slipping your hand in under his shirt, pressing your fingers against his chest. His heart beats hard and strong. “I hope you realize when I’m gone…” You trail off, struggling with the words.

Silence. Again. He’s leaning back in the chair, watching you try to reconcile this… and he is letting you flounder. Has he allowed you to ask for his time with the intention to give you nothing? The cruelty in that hurts even worse.

“Goodbye, Coriolanus.” You press a soft kiss to his cheek, scraping your nails over his skin, hoping it stings as much as his icy silence does. You gather your bag and coat, and leave his penthouse quietly.

In the elevator, you wipe at an errant tear. The air around you feels crushing but you cannot give in under pressure. You won’t.

For a few days, you don’t cry. You had foreseen this outcome to the conversation after all, made your preparations to leave as little behind as possible, and fortified yourself to understand that no matter how perfect a match you seemingly were for each other, you still actively had to choose one another. Whatever had consumed him also kept him from letting you in as he used to, and it meant he was no longer choosing you.

The barb still lodged itself deep in your chest, leaking poison all the same.

You go through the motions, brushing your hair, washing your face, studying. It’s in one of the lectures, the professor slipping through the lackluster material, that it hits like a fist between the ribs, and you clutch at your side remembering how Coryo would have made this make sense to you. It hits all at once how he’s not there, won’t be, he’s not going to make even the dullest media history class shine bright anymore.

When the tears come, it is Clemensia who wipes them away, lets your head rest in her lap, and offers to fetch the rest of your things. She was his friend first; you’d been a year under them in the Academy. When she comes back she doesn’t say if he reacted, though you doubt he was even at home. She strokes your hair, assuring you she won’t pick a side. Through all her care of you in the weeks to come, she proves her words, not letting you flinch away in public.

“Just because he plays a good game,” she reminds you, “doesn’t mean you can’t make a better move.”

You slowly get back on your feet, keeping her words in mind. She helps with applying your makeup on days when your hands are too shaky, keeping your perfectly crafted mask in place. She glues herself to your side as you attend classes, keeping it cordial with Coriolanus while your gaze slips past him. You forgot how good it felt to be someone’s priority.

“Why are you being so nice about this?” you ask one night, exasperated as she’s getting you ready for a party, squirming in your seat. You don’t feel ready for re-emerging into society, but what choice do you have? Crawl into a hole and vanish? You’d never give him the pleasure.

She rolls her eyes and gets up off the floor to fetch a dusty bottle of posca from the shelves.

“It’s not that different,” she says, handing a glass over to you. “I was in his corner too, and it bit me. Hard.” She grimaces, scratching at her wrist before rolling down the sleeve over her hands.

“Did you two…” You have wondered, after all, jealousy flickering at times like a dangerous question mark.

“Not like that! I just needed him to show up for me, to do this one thing, and he was busy chasing his own greatness.”

It's a relief to hear, mostly because you have an easier time believing her than him. “But you got over it.”

“I can’t fault him. If you’re here, it means something, and it’s not always flattering.” She wrinkles her nose at the posca even as she drinks it down. “When you want something so bad because you need to make sense of the world, to bring some sense of order to the chaos of life… I know you get it. He’s always been this way, but that doesn’t make it hurt any less.” Her words are just a whisper as she pins curls in place on your head, her hand lingering to trace your chin as she examines your face.

Clemensia had taken a liking to doing these little things for you, drawing from a deep well of knowledge she’d amassed. It had become an outlet for her, creativity to couple with her own ambition. She liked to practice different looks on you before paring them down to a more fitting style suitable to current trends, but each flourish of her brush warmed your skin.

You knew that duality well — of wanting to create and struggling to find the time and place. Ever since you were small, your parents had clung to the idea that singing lessons and dance classes were of utmost importance, even keeping them going during the war. They wanted you to excel, rise in standing, and it had honed you.

Unbidden, one of his old comments floats up in your mind, making your breath stutter. ‘You have the prettiest voice of all the girls in Panem, do you know that?’ And while you scoffed then, your ego bloomed under his praise. ‘Tell me more about how much you love my voice, Coryo…’

“Hey… come back to me, you better not ruin the hard work I’ve just done, I don’t do hard work for just anyone, you know?” Clemmie teases, but you can see a stern look in her eyes. You don’t have a lot of time, and she isn’t keen to waste it. “We have somewhere to be soon, okay?”

You nod. She’s right. The Capitol’s numerous galas and grand events throughout the year had kept going despite your broken heart, and tonight is the Rose Ball, an extravagant gala held in the grand conservatory with an orchestra playing and the guest list consisting of only the names of the highest esteem in the Capitol. And your name was still on it. Tonight, you intend to make sure it isn’t the last invite sent your way, no matter what.

Clemensia finishes with a lipstick red as wine, smiling as she puts her hands on your shoulders and turns you to the mirror.

“Look at you,” she says, tilting your chin up so the light catches the pearlescent shimmer dusted on your skin. “Everyone will be falling for you. And he will have no choice but to watch what he lost.”

You shiver in excitement.

You share the ride with some people Clemensia knows, and while they gossip away, you sit alone with your thoughts, the mask wavering for a moment. This is the first formal gathering you’re attending since the split… Several months of picking up the pieces to pretend like everything’s fine, to recoup as much of your image as possible, while still doing him the courtesy to not hurt his. You have been so good, and still people look at you as if you made a mistake and not him.

Tonight would be harder to find a bathroom to tuck away into, an empty study room to make your safe haven. No cover to hide behind, so you needed to don the appropriate armor, to appear unaffected. To tell a tale to outdo his. After all, Clemensia’s right, everyone can be made to want you. You will move on, and you will make him regret it while you do. You will remind him that your heart isn’t a delicate plaything, but a fire furious enough to match his.

You play with the pearls around your neck, the matching gold and pearl earrings bouncing against your cheek as the car passes over cobblestoned streets. They are the very same Coriolanus gifted you on your first anniversary, and weighted with memories. You thought about throwing them away immediately after the break-up, but that would have said something about him winning, and you can’t stand that.

Clemensia, hawk-eyed as ever, notices your nervous fiddling and nudges your foot with hers right as the car pulls up to the entrance. “Shall we then?” Clemensia offers you her arm and you take it gratefully. You revel in the sync of your heels clicking as you ascend the hard steps to your most important battlefield yet.

Past the heavy gilded doors, the gala’s milling crowd slows down as you enter, eyes drawn to you. You hold your head high, gripping Clemensia’s arm tight. No one here will get the pleasure of seeing you flinch. They announce your names, and you smile, brilliant and beautiful. The corset underneath your rose-red dress keeps your back straight, reminiscent of old elegances that has the old garde softening for you.

You think you spot him on the far end of the room, but the shadows are long and the lights dimmed. His gaze feels a certain way though, and there’s a wicked warmth in your chest that only he has ever made you feel.

“I’m going to do reconnaissance,” Clemensia says as she gives your hand a squeeze. “Let me get the lay of the land.”

“Go, go.” You wave her off, confidently stepping into a circle that parts to let you in amongst them, laughing at the right time. If there is one dance you know better than any other, it is this: the social graces and manners expected of you in these cutthroat places, where the marble runs red with lies and blood. Your heels know where to step even when sleepwalking.

While your mask does not waver, you sure feel bare under all the scrutiny, hungry gazes roving over every bared slip of skin on your arms. After what feels like hours of compliments, cruelties and layered comments, you find a brief escape in an alcove on the second floor, rubbing at your sore ankles as you catch your breath, head spinning. Roses weigh in on all sides of you, enchanting and heady. If you had to say something nice, it’s that Coriolanus knows how to work with the best event planners the Capitol has to offer.

You rip off a handful of petals, crushing them until the fragrant oils spill forth, and press them down the front of your dress before you get up to continue mingling.

The night is long: a dance with the Featherpillow boy a year your junior who easily dances circles around most of the men here; a glass of champagne with the Fairweather twins as you chat about the latest fashion trends and they enviously compliment your pearls; Clemensia whisking you away to a polite and stiff conversation with the Ravenstills. The night goes on for some time in this manner, gliding between dances, advances, and gossip. No one can seem to keep you in one place.

And everywhere you go, you feel the constant, unrelenting pierce of eyes on you. Not just the masses… his.

You are showing him up. Everyone knows it. Coming to his event with seemingly no hard feelings, dressed like a classical painting, fielding every conversation with natural ease and charisma. Everyone wants to see you, talk to you, be seen with you. It’s a move that will have lesser men folding their hands.

Coryo isn’t.

There’s no shortage of attention in his corner, the constant requests for a word from important political seats and fellow society greats, and invitations to dance which he only takes when you do. The undertow between you is palpable. He is an inevitability, you can feel it when you draw close during dances, gazes brushing past each other.

He is throwing you off, little by little, his smile blistering bright and dangerous across the room, and he catches you looking. Just once. And once is all he needs.

You swipe a glass of posca from a passing waiter, knocking it back in one go. This wasn’t part of your plan.

It definitely isn’t a part of the plan that Coriolanus appears in front of you, taking the empty glass away from you with a cool smile.

“May I have the next dance?” he asks, voice perfectly warm and polite. Every single eye watches the two of you with rapt attention as he offers his hand out to you.

He knows you can’t turn him down now, and he is relishing in it. His eyes are lit up, a fire in them you have not seen in months. You put your hand in his, beaming up at him.

“It would be my pleasure,” you say, dragging out the last word until it drips like daggers from your lips.

The two of you assume the starting position, you with one hand in his, the other on his shoulder, and you can’t help but notice that it is all too comfortable a role to slip back into: the perfect pair, polished and primed for the show. A lone pianist begins to play, and you recognize the tune as one of your very favorites… one you played for Coriolanus more than once on the grand piano in his penthouse.

Maintaining a polite expression, you shoot him a look. “Did you request this piece?”

“It’s your favorite, is it not?” He keeps it civil. More than civil, he keeps it warm, saccharine sweet even as he continues to lead you without a single misstep while giving the audience a perfect dance.

“I thought you’d forget about me,” you say, testing the waters. “Like you do to everyone who no longer interests you.”

“You think I’d be that cruel?”

“I know you would be.”

A hum rumbles in his chest and you feel it against your body, heating your cheeks. The dance goes on, gliding and spinning, the room growing dizzying either from the drinks or the way he won’t drop eye contact with you.

This much attention from him was not the plan, definitely not the goal, and as the tempo slows for the twinkling end of the piece, you think you might fall over if not for the sheer adrenaline coursing through you… and the firmness of his grip, fingers digging into the back of your corset.

As the music falls quiet, there’s a brief moment where you could hear a pin drop, the tension in the air releasing as the audience applauds. You blush, bowing to him, simmering with the dual-edged feeling of having been made a spectacle of — and a part of you enjoyed it because it was him doing it.

He offers his arm to you and you hesitate, wanting to search out Clemensia in the crowd, but with the expectant eyes still on you, it’s hardly the time to turn him down.

Shit.

You take his arm with trepidation, chewing the inside of your cheek as he leads you to the upper level of the conservatory. As you pass by Clemensia you shoot her a pleading glance, but she cannot save you, and you both know it.

He knows the place like the back of his hand and leads you to a tucked-away alcove crowned with rose arches. The plush settee is comfortable but small, and you wind up pressed against his side when you sit down. Worse still, it’s like he delights in tormenting you as he wraps his arm around your waist and pulls you in.

“Did you enjoy doing that?” With a gentle huff, you finally speak your mind, voice hushed. He’s close enough that you feel the warmth of his breath, of his entire body, and yours never forgot how good he could make you feel, aching for him like a traitor. “Did you want to make a fool of me?”

He does nothing to assuage the pained curiosity of your words, tutting as he reaches up to finger one of your earrings. “No need. You and I can both agree you made plenty spectacle of yourself all on your own tonight, darling.”

You hold back from chewing him out, refusing to align his glance to his. It always frustrated him back then and it still does, as he moves his hand to your chin and tilts your face towards his.

“Hard time letting go?”

He knows just how to stoke the fire in you. “Of you? Never.”

“As you say.” He rubs the fabric of your skirt between his fingers. “You seemed all too comfortable letting everyone reach out to pull you around tonight, truly playing the belle of the ball, hm?”

“That’s how the Capitol landscape is and you know it. I was not trying to upstage you.”

He tuts at that. “You think that is why I’m upset?”

You furrow your brow. “What else would it be?”

“Because for all your flitting about tonight…” He lowers his voice, and you lean in instinctively. “You wouldn’t have deigned to give me the time had I not put you on the spot.”

Your breath catches in your throat, your mental game board in disarray. “You’re jealous?”

You’ve learned to not cry over him anymore. Even when it hurts, when the three years down the drain remind themself like a splinter under your nail, you’ve learned better control than that. But this time, you feel the hot prick of tears in your eyes. When one slides down your cheek, he wipes it with his thumb.

Damn it, damn him, damn it all. You swallow.

“After everything, you are jealous? I didn’t even come here with someone else.”

“You came here with Clemensia.”

“Yes, a friend.”

“She was my friend first.”

“Oh, don’t be a child.”

You roll your eyes, slapping his chest. He holds your hand there, and when the first feeling that runs through your heart is a sliver of hope, you know you’re done for.

“I’ve missed you.”

Check mate.

He wins again.

You try to pull away, but he resists, pressing you closer into him. For all that hurt, all the frustration, when you look into his eyes, when your gaze flits down to his lips, you still want to crush his lips with yours, to slot right into his life like you never left, and that thought gnaws at you. You hate yourself for it. And your mask is not that strong…

“You really could have thought about that earlier, Coriolanus. You had every opportunity.”

He seems content with not elaborating on why he froze you out, left you in the dark, and it frustrates you. His only response, in fact, is to act on the heat of the moment, pulling you into a kiss.

It’s greedy and hungry and he bites at your lower lip, causing you to whine. His lips are soft and taste of sugary pastries and finely aged wines and oh, it would be so easy to fall head first into how good it feels, how much you missed this, to climb on his lap right here…

You lick into his mouth, wanting all you can take before you part from him, unable to forget where you are, that there is no privacy in this place, and that you can’t risk everything for him — however badly you want to. When you pull away, you see the mess you’ve made of him, lipstick on the corners of his mouth, and it thrills to know he’s made one of you too.

“Not here,” you say. But it isn’t a no. It’s hardly a stop. It’s a challenge and you desperately want him to rise to it.

He waves over one of his attendants to assist in making you both presentable, leaving you in the seat once he is taken care of. You hold back a protest, ready to settle back into the shadows of his ambition, but then overhear him whispering about “ready the car” and “make sure they have a good time” before he turns back to you. There’s the fire that could burn the whole of the Capitol down if he wanted it. There’s the hunger that could have you willing to offer him of yourself just to sate him. It leaves you speechless. It leaves you burning.

He whisks you away out the back entrance to the waiting car and once seated in the back, partitions pulled up, you spare no time climbing on top of him, arms wrapping around his neck.

He fingers your earrings again, hand trailing down to your necklace. “Our first anniversary, hmm? Do you remember why I had the rose engraved in the gold?”

You aren’t interested in reminiscing anymore, you want the present moment, you want to burn your mouth on his. You kiss him again, rocking against him as you do, relishing in the way he tightly grabs your hips, helps you keep grinding down as he lifts up the skirt higher, skimming the top of your thigh-high stockings.

“Missed you too.” Your breath is hot and ragged against his skin.

You look over his face, bodies still slowly rocking together, and when your semi-glazed eyes meet his, you see nothing but fire, dangerous and warming, everything you have ever wanted from him. In a craze, you find yourself begging.

“Please… make me yours again.” It’s a romantic notion, and it will haunt you come morning, but now you are nothing but a bundle of nerves and want, all ripe for his picking.

“Patience,” he breathes against your neck, his lips on the pearls. “We’re almost there.”

#coriolanus x reader #coriolanus snow x you #coriolanus snow #coriolanus x you #corionlanus snow x reader #coriolanus smut #snow x reader #snow x you #the hunger games x reader #tbosas fanfiction #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #the hunger games

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raven-cincaide-words · 1 month

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𝓢𝔀𝓮𝓮𝓽 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓢𝓹𝓸𝓸𝓴𝔂 𝓗𝓪𝓵𝓵𝓸𝔀𝓮𝓮𝓷 𝓹𝓻𝓸𝓶𝓹𝓽𝓼

Hello and Welcome to Raven Cincaide's ' A Sweet and Spooky' Halloween & Love inspired prompts for Oktober 2024

Day 1. First Kiss | Campus Crush | Costume Shopping

Day 2. Cuddling | Best Friends | Halloween Decor

Day 3. Distance | Ex- lover | Pumpkin Carving

Day 4. Lying | Rockstar | “What ARE You Wearing?”

Day 5. Love Language | Plushies | Horror Movies

Day 6. Fight/Altercation | Newcomer | Corn Maze

Day 7. Compromise | Soul Mates| Halloween Party

Day 8. Forgiveness | Arranged Marriage | Farmers Market

Day 9. Praise | Status Gap | Pumpkin Spiced Latte

Day 10. Little Touches | One Night Stand | Haunted House

Day 11. Lack Of Effort | Amnesia| Graveyard Dare

Day 12. Talking | Holiday Fling | Carnival

Day 13. Neglect | Forbidden Love | Ghosts

Day 14. Kisses | Trapped | Amusement Park

Day 15. Pressure | Enemies To Lovers | Black Cat

Day 16. Massage | Age Gap | Matching Costumes

Day 17. No reply | Second Chances | Halloween Candy

Day 18. Stepping Out | Oblivious Love | Nightmares

Day 19. Quality Time | Rivals | Trick Or Treat

Day 20. Nights out | Injury | Hunting Someone

Day 21. Anniversary | Rejected | Superstitions

Day 22. Teasing/Banter | Redemption | Horror Books

Day 23. Standoffishness | Different Worlds| Fears

Day 24. Hugs | Dude In Distress | Halloween Cooking

Day 25. Silence | Colleagues| Strange Noise

Day 26. Gifts | Sworn Off Relationships | Rituals

Day 27. Cute Nicknames | Jealousy | Halloween Night

Day 28. Physical Touch |Secret Identity | Ouija Board

Day 29. Little ‘Love you’s’ | Lost Heir| Summon a Demon

Day 30. Patting Back | Pen Pals | Cast a Curse

Day 31. Pick and Mix

I am so excited to share this list with you! It’s a mix of Love/ Angst, Common Romance Tropes and of course Halloween themes! These were originally created with SFW content in mind but it's easy to use them for some NSFW creations as well ;)

After all these are only suggestions but I hope they inspire you to create something this fall season. You’re more than welcome to share, move around or come up with your own prompts based on these. And of course you’re welcome to use the banner if you’d like :)

Also, if you do decide to create something based on these prompts, please tag me (here or @raven-cincaide) so I have a ton of goodies to read while under the blanket with my tea.

So pick a day/ a prompt and lets get writing!

#Raven Cincaide prompts #Sweetober 2024 #SFW kinktober #kinktober prompts #Raven Cincaide Sweetober #kinktober list #Kinktober 2024 #flufftober #fall prompts #love prompts #writing prompt

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pursuitseternal · 9 months

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“Scald Me:” Let the Vampire Lord Astarion tend to your every comfort, 🔥 update to “The Rogue You Were”

Ascended Astarion x F!Reader | E | 3K of comfort, bath sex

Summary: you have those nightmares again, filled with death and fear and tentacles. You seek comfort alone, wanting to scald the fear from your body, but only one man’s attentions will give you what you seek… and more.

CW: soft!Ascended Vampire Lord, Tav ptsd dreams, one scared maid, comfort, dexterous hands washing your hair, bath sex, tub sex, one very wet tile floor…

Ao3 link | Astarion Fic Masterlist

🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸

Months since you’ve turned immortal. Months since your nights on the road, your days covered in blood and your mind racing with the thrill of danger and the constant mystery that was your life.

You have a palace, a lover, your immortal life protected from enemies. Your nights are spent in orgasms and luxury, your days still involving blood, but not of your enemies. Only his. Only Astarion’s blood, rife with his Ascended power that he keeps flowing into you as well.

But still, the nightmares come, the feeling of death breathing down your neck, the ghost of a squirming tadpole in your brain. The faces of those lives you took sometimes flit before… enemies and innocents, monsters and villains. You wake sweating in your sheets, hands still feeling the stick of blood.

You still hear his ghost sometimes in your head, your Dream Visitor, before you knew who he truly was… Even undead, powerful and loved, you are haunted.

The fear of becoming an Ilithid, the need to fight and flee, it still runs hot in your cold blood.

On nights in your bed, you cuddle into Astarion for comfort, for warmth. The one thing that grounds you and protects you from those lingering phantoms.

But today, you wake alone, your lover yet returning from business outside the City. The chilling sweat makes you feel well and truly dead. You need to get warm, to wash away the hovering darkness of your trauma.

You rise from bed, eager for your morning bath. Something to warm you from the chill of your memories and chase the fear from your shivering body. Crossing into your bathing room, the maid, some little new thing hired, already pours the last pitcher of steaming water into the enamel tub. She shakes as you enter, her eyes cast away. But you thank her, regardless of her deference…

Until you dip your hand into the water. The waves of your angst, your irritation, they reach their own boiling point.

“This water is cold,” you snap. Your head lifts with ferocity to stare down the girl. She is young, shivering. But so were you once. “Unacceptable,” you hiss. “Would you have made it so for the Master?”

“N-n-no, my lady,” she fumbles quietly, keeping her head lowered. You can’t even see her face.

“Am I not also powerful? A hero of the City?” you feel the swell of your wrath pouring out, misguided, misdirected, but it feels so good to let it out regardless. “I want this water hot. Scalding. Enough to boil the flesh from your skull if you fail me again.”

“Tch, tch,” a warm, velvety voice pours over from the doorway behind you. “My consort, you don’t need to threaten to prove your power, darling.”

You spin, Astarion locking eyes with yours. He leans against the frame, handsome as ever, his hair just a little more unruly than normal, you perceive. Instantly he assesses your state, your inner turmoil, your hurt, your rage. And he meets it with a distant look of concern. “Run along, girl, and fetch your mistress water hot enough to scald her.” He jerks his head, the servant instantly rushing out of the room. If she is crying, she holds back her tears until she is clear of their sight.

Frozen, dread rushing in your veins, you can only grip the edge of the tub and let your body shake. The tremors don’t even cease once you feel his warm hands on your shoulders, rubbing them gently to bid the tension away. “You really should save your fangs and threats for our enemies, you don’t need the practice on little girls who will only cry themselves senseless at your power, my darling.”

You say nothing, swallowing as you stare at your reflection in the water. The hardness and pain in the new crimson of your eyes stares back. A transferred gift of Astarion’s power, it seems—your lasting reflection.

His touch leaves one shoulder, dipping his fingers in the bath, little ripples running away from the intrusion. “My dearest, why, this water is hot enough to turn you to a broth. Why don’t you get in?”

You hear the comfort in his tone, his gentle attempts to soothe you where you feel raw and frightened. But you can only hiss in reply, “Why don’t you get in then?”

“If you insist,” he croons, and you hear the slip of his clothes from his perfect, lustrous skin. “A long day of threats and placating, of flying back to your side the moment I could sense your fear in your sleep… I’ll need some extra rejuvenation to stay looking this good for you, my treasure.”

Your breath hitches, body frozen at the weight of his words, hidden behind his bravado. “You… you could sense it…”

He says nothing at first, waiting half-naked beside you, pale chest just perfect as the steam swirls around you both. Eyes searching yours, he takes his damp hand from the tub to smooth your hair off one shoulder. A simple gesture done hundreds of times already, a precursor mostly to feeding. Or fucking. But this time, it meant neither.

These were tender, little petal-soft strokes on your skin. Meant to soothe. He slips your dressing gown from your shoulders, careful not to touch your skin too much. “I can sense your pain as your maker, do not forget, be that a prick of your finger or the torment of your dreams.” His voice is soft, flowing over your shoulder, wrapping you in that purr, that velvet caress he uses to soothe you back to him.

For those times you are trapped again in fear and tentacles and gore. The times he assures you that you have not only his blood, his power, his protection, but his heart as well.

Mercifully gentle, his hand steadies around yours, moving it to caress the surface of the water. It sucks your fingers in, flawless surface breaking to take in your touch. You feel it this time, the warmth of the water, the heat of his hand pressed into the back of yours. You shiver. But his touch grips firmly around your hand, encouraging you to step inside the waters fully.

Steam sweeps around you, mist brushing your face, laden with sweet oils of orange flower and citrus. Sharp and clean and luxurious. One leg sinks into the bath, then the other. But nothing is as hot as the way his touch scalds you, softly guiding you down into the warm embracing waters.

You sink to your neck, gasping after a moment. After you realize his touch has left your flesh.

“Astarion,” you call, that old dread of waking alone with only your pain as friend grips fast on your heart once more. Spinning, the water slashes roughly over the enamel edge.

“Tch,” he sucks his teeth as he withdraws, the water soaking his pale skin, dripping down his legs, still half-clothed. “If money were a concern, I’d chide you for ruining these silks, my love.” His smirk warms you, your eyes now filled only with the sight of him.

His lustrous skin covered in rivulets of scented water, his muscles flexing as he frees himself of the rest of his drenched and ruined trousers. Even that sight of his softened cock makes you flush warmer as you glance it between his legs. Your chest eases as his eyes lock solely into yours. That now matching shade of crimson, that matching fang-toothed smile… you give him no room, forcing him to climb into the waters by sliding his ruinous body right down yours.

Not that he cares, not from that steep-angled tilt of his head or from the heavy, half-lidded gaze he rakes over your chest.

The slosh of water smacks the tile floor as he pulls you close, one hand sweeping a palm full of water to wash the tear streaks from your cheek. “You will have to thank me, to congratulate me, I have never flown so quickly from Waterdeep in my life, undead or not, when I felt your dreams,” he whispers.

“Flown?” you try to tease, but even that single word sounds forced and hollow in your tight and ravaged throat. “Mist… bat…?”

“Mist is far faster you know, my treasure,” he keeps his voice soft and rolling deep in his chest as he pours another handful of water to wash your neck. “And I was in such a state to hurry to your side.” His hand presses your cheek now, turning your face into his. “More memories of our… journey?”

He was careful in his words, as you are with him. You never mention his former tormentor and master, he never mentions the Emperor or Ilithids or the Absolute. Not unless you first bring them up.

Your breath shakes, but you nod. “It was…” you stop. The images that flashed in your dreams returning just as violently as before.

The warmth of his thumb strokes your lips, softly willing them to continue. “I’m all pointy ears, my treasure…”

That makes you grin reluctantly. Words you once heard so often, imbued now with his purring, powerful tones. The words of the Spawn in the voice of the Ascendant.

And that pet name for you that took to your heart instantly. His treasure. His most precious possession, for the man that has everything and that can give you anything. The thing dearest to him in the world.

And right now, he is yours. You didn’t even need to ask.

A loud swallow passes over your dry throat. “I dreamt of it all again, the Nautiloid, the Netherbrain…” you close your eyes, shutting them tight as if you could block out the visions in your mind. “Friends reduced to ash, to tentacles, lost forever…”

His palm presses against the side of your head to draw you near until your forehead nestles in the crook of his neck, cradled on the plane of his shoulder. “You’re not alone in this, remember, none of us were, neither of us are now,” he whispers against the top of your head.

He falls silent, little cupping handfuls of water to dribble over your cheek, through your hair, and down your back. Its warmth is far from scalding, but it slowly begins to soothe. “When those same demons come to plague me, my darling, I like to remember that first sunset after the Brain fell. The way my head felt suddenly lighter once it was free, the way the sun still kissed my face, scalding my skin with almost the same heat that I felt for you, my need for you, my treasure.”

“Hmmm,” you pause, letting your mind drift over the softer moments you had shared. “Remember how rakish you were in the Grove, the night we defeated the Goblin Camp…”

“It wasn’t all smoke and mirrors, empty bluster you know,” his fingers lift from the bath, pinching your face softly. “My little treat. Your cheeks were so rosy and flushed. There was no better place to burn off your bloodlust than my bed, darling…” he purrs into your ear, that sensual curl in his voice, that honeyed seduction that still catches you off guard. You hope in all the ages you will share with him, it never ceases to jolt you right in your belly with lust.

“You still shiver so, darling.”

You do in fact shake, even as his arm holds you against his skin, even as the water does begin to seep into your bones. “Then warn me. Nothing makes me feel scalding like you can, my love,” you whisper, turning to meet his gaze. You are met with such intensity, such vivid concern, you don’t need a spell cast to know you worry him more than any other being in this realm or the next when you get like this.

“What do you have in mind, my consort?” he begs the question, even as his hand moves through the water, fingers pressing at your hip to guide you closer. To move you onto him.

You press a hand on his chest, bracing against his mighty strength when he wants you on his cock—already erect beneath the waters. You can tell. “Won’t you finish washing me first? Before you make me very, very dirty?” you simper, eyes wide and lashes batting. That lust makes your innards thaw, the stiffness of fear draining from your muscles as he feigns a look of disinterest as he considers it. “I’m sure there are other ways for me to feel scalding, blistering hot than just slipping your cocking between my legs….”

You swirl the water around that length, watching his smirk twist all the more at the motion. “Only because I do so adore you will I allow it. Even still, you will need to come closer,” his voice rings with that powerful, silken chime. His hands grip hard into your ass, using that weightlessness of the water to swish you onto his lap. The warmth of his skin caresses beneath your thighs, your ass. That comfort of his body grounds you like nothing else in these realms. And you sigh, most of your fear and tension melting away at last.

You close your eyes, those lithe and dexterous hands begin to pour water over your hair. More of that scented oils fills your nose as fingers so skilled at picking locks and stroking your clit scrub into your scalp. “Mmm, delicious,” you begin to smile.

And he chuckles slowly at the echo of his own flirtation flung back in his face. “Savor it, pet. I’m sure there are ways to repay my kindness for kindness shortly.”

“You don’t mean kindness…do you,” you tilt your head forward again, meeting his eyes, and instantly you aren’t wet between your thighs from just the bath water any longer.

“No, little love,” his hands pull you flush, belly to belly, hard enough to make his cock prod up against you. “I do not.” His hands grip hard into your sudsy hair, just a bit of divine pain tingling as he tugs it, angling you head back, bearing your neck as his eyes scan that pale column he hungers for still. “Now, be a good girl, let’s get you cleaned, and then you’ll know just how hot you make me.” His hands pour water down your head over and over again, and your eyes flicker shut. The reverence in his touch grows edged with desire, you can feel his haste. His cock twitches every time you breathe in deeply, deep enough to make your breasts drag their straining nipples against his chest.

You shake your head from the longer trickles, a devious grin on your lips as you scoop a palm of water. “What about your turn… wash that sweat off your curls as you hurried to my rescue?”

“You wouldn’t dare get these flawless locks wet, would you?” he feigns a snarl. “I will not look like a drowned cat when I finally warm you from the inside out, my pet.” Quicker than breath, he grabs your hand midair and sinks it into the blissful warm waters again. He gives you that wicked, mischievous giggle to punctuate the quiet before he wraps both sets of fingers around his cock.

Hotter than the waters. Hard and awaiting and twitching the moment you catch its pulse. You feel him slide deeper into the waters, lifting you up just enough to instantly slot himself between your thighs. You gasp, the fullness so familiar and arousing, so comforting to be fit perfectly again.

Water begins to splash over the porcelain edge behind him as you join at last. Slowly, you pace yourself, letting the waters warm your skin as you ride him. His eyes bore into you, flickering down every now and then to watch your breasts dipping in and out of the bath as you keep your rhythm.

Astarion keeps his hands clawed into your hips, grounding you among the swirls and splashes that lap around you. Those crimson eyes still scan all about you, observing every detail, every bat of your eyes and tremor of your lips. Making fully certain he chases away those lingering ghosts from you…

Just as you do for him.

His lips curl as you increase your pace, your fingers now clutched hard around the ivory lip of the tub. You ride him with abandon, water cresting in waves to drench the floor. But you’re sure your cunt is far more drenched. The slick inside you hot from the sweet pressure he gives you, the little thrusts he makes when you sink back down to crush his thighs.

Breath matches breath, his mouth so close, so open, you lose all sense of what air is yours or his. The little groans you make grow more ragged, his voice in your ear as you hang your head. Lost to the growing swell of pleasure in your belly. “My love,” he purrs. “My consort and queen… my most precious treasure…”

The muscles of his thighs clench beneath you, hips now slamming up into with haste and recklessness. Out of control, he arches back, head resting against your gripping hands on the tub.

But his words, his undoing inside you, it’s all enough to throw you into that heat he conjures under your skin.

Heat so burning, the gush of your arousal as you come does scald you. You can barely whimper his name, feeling his own shudders of climax take him. You feel your juices trickle between your thighs, hot to the touch before the waters wash it away.

Those damp, silver curls rest on your shoulder, their flawless swoops wet and heavy from steam as he nuzzles against your neck. “Feeling better?” he sighs softly. “Scalding enough for you?”

You run your dripping hand into that tantalizing hair, raising him off your shoulder. That look of smug satisfaction, that glow of his own climax, flushing his pale skin and sharpening his defined cheeks and jaw, it steals your breath. “Always with you, my love,” you reply. “Always scalding.”

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theshireisburning-so-mordoritis · 9 months

Text

TELL ME YOU THINK ABOUT ME TOO

Part of the Seven Nights Of Sin - Series Three

Steven Grant x F!Reader (hints of Marc Spector x F!Reader) 18+. 9K. Friends to lovers with a shit ton of pining. Female masturbation. Oral sex (fem receiving). Unprotected shower sex. Steven being all soft and needy but also a little feral.

Prompt: "Do you think of me when you touch yourself?"

Requested by: @acrossthesestars , I am so sorry for how long this has taken me and I hope you enjoy it! 🖤

Their relationship was an odd thing Steven thought. Chaotic in the kind of way that not many would understand.

God, he just barely understood it himself after all.

It's him and it's Marc and it's you, all entwined, your lives like singular threads that were blown together and now lay impossibly tangled. Knotted so tightly that even if someone was to try and shear them apart, there would still be remnants of the others embedded in the one they tried to pull loose.

And then it went beyond that.

There were the separate tanglements that branched from the heart of the whole one. Himself and Marc. Marc and you. You and him.

He knew that there were differences - that there was something more between you and Marc. Another level to the relationship that Steven yearned for but felt would be pushing his luck to try and approach with you after you had already given him so much.

When he wasn't in control he sometimes saw fragments of it, glimpses that made him flush and his chest tighten, desire clashing with the jealousy that sat like an uncomfortable weight in the back of his throat. He saw you through the thinning glass between the alters, saw your lips part around a throaty moan that hit him like a train, the slopes of your bare skin, sweat slick and gleaming, as your back bowed in pleasure.

He was always quick to turn away before he saw too much, squeezing his eyes shut to give you your privacy and to chastise himself for those feelings that were steadily slipping further out of his already shaky control.

He was arguing against himself, the part of him that craved more than he should, stern in the reasoning that he should be grateful to have you in any capacity. To have your friendship and your care, your protectiveness over him and the way your eyes glowed with interest, gaze fixed on him and smile soft, warm and encouraging, no matter what subject he chose to ramble on and on at you about.

And if that wasn’t enough to make him hold his tongue then the insecurities that clung to his bones and his insides - his poor lovesick heart - in strings of black tar, were certainly more than willing to do the trick.

Because why would you want him like that when you've already got someone like Marc? Someone so clearly your equal.

Would you be offended by the idea of him as a partner - of being with both of them?

What if he ruined things entirely - made things weird and you leave? Plunging your hand in that mess of threads and ripping yours away, splitting fibres that burrowed beneath his skin and left him forever haunted by the ghost of you.

It didn’t matter that Marc had tried to tell him otherwise, gave Steven as many hints as he could without revealing the extent of your feelings because that was your business and not his place. His voice growing exasperated the longer that Steven refused to do anything about it.

"Do you really think she would put up with all of this, if she didn't love both of us?"

Yes.

No.

Bloody hell, he didn't know.

It’s a question he didn't have an answer to and so he chose to ignore it completely.

Buried it alongside the too fast flutter of his pulse beneath his skin when you drifted close, when your hand was threading through the mess of his curls. Gentle fingers tilting his jaw, stroking the fragile skin beneath his eyes as you checked for signs that he wasn’t sleeping as well as you’d like before you mumbled out a happy sounding noise, pleased when you found none.

He swallowed it back and pretended it didn't burn all the way down. Like the thought didn’t feel like it would burst him to flames the same way it did when he woke to find you wound around his body, legs tangled with his and your breath, soft and warm, against his neck.

The only reaction you gave when realising you had fallen asleep with Marc and woken with Steven, being the shy smile that crept across your lips as you gazed up at him, arms making no move to let him go, to push him away and create distance.

He didn’t know what else he was supposed to do.

He was in over his head.

It was after a fight that it happened.

They returned to the quiet of their hotel room, heads down and bodies tucked in on themselves as they passed through the plain reception and the corridors with their aged, peeling wallpaper until there was the relief of the door clicking shut behind them.

They were stained with the after effects of their violence. Blood splattered jaws and rust beneath their nails, the collar of Steven’s sweater torn wide, slit at the abdomen from where he was stabbed before he’d remembered to summon the suit and when he looked at you, there were already bruises blooming. Creeping across your skin - the swell of your cheek - before his very eyes, muddied shades of navy and lavender that made him wince and his hands twitch.

You smiled when you caught it, all easy charm, a sweet, placating thing that softened the sharp edges that still clung to your features after a mission. “I’m fine Steven.” You told him gently. “Nothing a shower and some bandages won’t fix anyway.

He nodded, a little unsure as always, trying to offer a simple smile back because Steven’s learned it’s best not to hover when it comes to you. To treat you like you were made of glass just because you were something infinitely precious to them. That you could easily grow frustrated at the way Marc loomed like a pissed off drill sergeant and Steven fretted like a frantic, mother hen when they saw you hurt all because you lacked an ancient god fused to your bones and hooked in the meat of your soul.

Instead he slipped into the bathroom and cleaned away the blood that itched at his own skin, his stomach only faintly twisting this time as he watched it swirl pink in the water before slipping down the drain.

He was getting better at it, he realised belatedly. It didn’t feel like he’d lose whatever food he had managed to get down that day anymore when he was faced with the evidence of what he had done, like his stomach wanted to turn itself inside out and he needed you to scrape the sweat-damp droop of his curls away from his clammy forehead. Mouthing soothing sounds into his shoulder as he groaned and coughed up his guts.

Once he was dressed in something that didn’t look like it’s seen the inside of a shredder he went out again.

It was routine by now. Him or Marc would go in search of food - flaky pastries dusted with cinnamon or soaked in syrup. Steaming pasta in rich, silky sauce with thick slices of buttery garlic bread. Tacos. Gyoza. Earl grey cake from the bakery you passed on your way into town.

Anything you asked for because it was the only way you ever really let them take care of you, only huffing slightly when they handed you the painkillers that you absolutely always argued you didn’t need if they didn’t bribe you first.

And by the time they typically got back you would already be lounging in the bed. Hair slightly damp from the shower, wounds neatly bandaged, and looking far too warm and soft than Steven’s poor heart could handle, sunk into the plethora of mismatched pillows.

It always made his heart flutter in his chest to come back to you waiting, to step into the room and find your eyes shining over at him, your hands already outstretched, making grabbing motions that had him chuckling as you beckoned him towards you with the food. Head tilting in the direction of the box tv as you teased him with a grin. “It’s about time, there’s an old crime documentary about to start, I thought we could watch whilst we eat.”

Which is why it struck him as odd when he returned and there was no sign of you. The bed still neatly made. The blank screen of the tv staring back at him, projecting nothing but his own reflection, when his gaze flicked to it.

He relaxed when he registered the faint sound of running water - the repetitive pattering of spray hitting the tiles. Shook his head at how his body had immediately drawn tight with anxiety all because you weren’t where he had expected you to be. The breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding blowing past his lips in a rushed exhale at the smell of your shampoo, fresh and slightly sweet, comforting in a way he couldn’t explain, seeping beneath the bathroom door.

Everything’s fine. She’s fine. You were just worrying over nothing.

But then he heard it.

His name.

Or at least, he thought he did. There was a few beats of silence when he stopped, quietly placing the bag of food onto the side as he strained to listen. Nothing.

It was maybe his imagination, he thought.

Maybe you had been mumbling to yourself, singing beneath your breath like he knew you liked to do when you thought no one could hear. He went back to sorting the food with another shake of his head, a mutter to himself that he was growing far too paranoid as he pulled out the containers and the plastic utensils before reaching over to the little tv to find something you might be interested in watching when you eventually did come out.

And then he definitely heard it again.

A touch louder, clearer that time than the last, his heart dropping to his stomach at the sound. It was a pained thing - a low moan that cut to a whimper and Steven almost completely lost his head.

Were you hurt? Had he left when you needed him? What if you’re trying to hide the seriousness of one of your wounds, bleeding out in there because of your stubborn refusal to worry him?

He called to you once. A second time that was steeped in a dizzying panic, and when there was no response again all thought went out the window. He was lunging for the door to the bathroom, sweat-damp hand fumbling with the handle before he nearly wrenched the damn thing off despite Marc’s suspiciously calm voice in his head telling him ‘Steven wait..it’s not what you think-’

He almost snarled at that, bristling in disbelief that Marc could be so unbothered when Steven’s fear had snapped to life in an instant to clutch him by the throat. There was an anger he wasn’t quite used to rushing through his chest, burning vicious and ugly, charring his bones as he spat back at the other man, “If you think I’m going to ignore the fact that she’s seriously hurt then you’re fucking mental, what is wrong with you!”

Marc didn't respond, at least not with words - there was a weary sigh that seemed to say ‘suit yourself’ and then silence. Good.

He refused to pay him mind, to focus on anything else other than you, getting you the help you needed, and when he finally flung the door open, the noise of it hitting the wall almost deafening in the silence of that tiny room, everything suddenly stumbled to a halt as what he’d just walked in on seared itself upon his brain. Burning bright behind his eyelids when he slammed them shut, a hand slapped over them for good measure.

Because you were all bare, steam-slick skin. Glittering with the droplets of water that caught the light and shone as they trailed down your body in a way that made the image of him catching each one with his tongue flash across his mind, unbidden, entrancing him until his gaze had followed a shimmering path to where he'd discovered the hand buried between trembling thighs. Your fingers that halted their quick, jerking movements as your pretty features morphed from pleasure to stunned surprise.

“Oh god - bollocks - I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to, I-"

He was rambling. Stammering on his words like his tongue was too thick for his mouth, choking on the billows of steam he was breathing in as his face flushed with the sickening kind of heat that came with pure mortification and good fucking god, what the hell was he doing still standing there?

“I’m sorry,” he continued, rooted in place despite every fibre of his being telling him to bolt. It burst out of him almost, jumbled and tumbling, all frantic to make you understand. “My name- I heard you say my name and I thought… it sounded like you were hurt and I know you like to handle your injuries alone but it sounded bad and I thought you could be bleeding out or dying and I just couldn’t–”

You were wrapping gentle fingers around his wrists before he could talk himself breathless, into an early grave with the way his pulse was hammering beneath flushed skin. Your voice fell even softer, barely rising over the sound of the water that was still pelting against the tiles, as you told him, “Steven, calm down. Look at me, it’s okay.”

He wanted to resist, unwilling to face the weight of your disappointment, the shame that would only double tenfold when that harsh glare of yours undoubtedly pinned him with it, but he found himself compelled by a featherlight touch at his jaw, the arc of cheek, sweeping the damp curls from his eyes just as they fluttered open.

Steven gulped as his stare settled on you, closer than he'd expected you to be, now wrapped up in a thread-bare towel that hid only enough skin for you to be considered decent but had him sending a prayer of thanks for to any god that would listen anyway. He didn’t think he’d survive it otherwise.

Not with the way you were actually looking at him. Touching him.

He was already having trouble breathing properly, his stomach still flipping from the memory of you, your closeness to him now when your soft moans were still echoing around in his head.

Steven, Steven, Steven.

His heart had yet to return to its normal pace and as it stuttered and beat itself violently against the cage of his ribs, he wondered if it was possible to die from something like this. From the desire and longing trapped and blistering beneath his skin, a wicked hot thing that was trying to burn him from the inside out.

It certainly felt like he could.

Your expression grew anxious whilst you simply watched one another, gaze troubled and brow knit into a soft frown. Your lip drawn between your teeth in a way that made him have to swallow down the urge gently tug it free with his thumb, to soothe away the rawness with soft touches. An even softer kiss.

Gods, he was pathetic.

Even when he was expecting you to be angry at him, for that gentle calmness to drop any second to reveal disgust, he still couldn’t stop himself from thinking about touching you, kissing you. Loving on you. He wanted to shake himself, to rub away the ache in his chest that worsened as your lips parted and he braced himself for you to tell him you couldn’t be around him after this.

“It’s not you who should be apologising, Steven.” You told him instead, voice tinged with guilt, a hint of embarrassment. Nervous in a way he’d never seen before. And when your eyes dropped briefly to where your hands were still cradling his own you missed the way he blinked at you in stunned confusion.

“I shouldn’t have been doing that - thinking about you like that - definitely not when you could hear…shit- I’m so fucking sorry you heard it and saw what you did. I get it if you don’t feel comfortable around me and you need a break or something, fuck - is that something you would want? Do you want me to go?”

Steven didn’t even know what to say. His expression had morphed into something utterly dumbfounded. His brain screeching to a halt at your apology - your confession?

It was spinning around inside his skull like a carousel, all bright flashing light and the swelling tinkling of fairytale music. Because surely it couldn’t be real right? He’d not really heard what he thought he had, he’d not heard you admitting that you think about him.

Maybe he’d been knocked out during the fight and this was a dream? He almost found it easier to believe.

Except for the fact that in his dreams he didn’t have Marc’s voice in his head - seething with frustration. He wasn’t being yelled at to say something. Say anything. He wasn’t getting stressed out by the irate stream of demands mixing with his own rapidly firing thoughts until they all muddled into something that felt an awful lot like the oncoming of a migraine.

He wanted to snap at Marc to be quiet for just five bloody seconds but then he was raising his voice again - more worried this time - and it cut crystal clear through the rest of the noise. Sharp enough for Steven to finally understand what the other man had been desperately trying to snap his attention to.

‘Jesus fucking christ Steven, she’s going to leave! She thinks you don’t want her - SAY SOMETHING.”

And Marc was right. You had drawn away from him, dropped your hands from his cheeks and tucked them into your sides, arms crossed over your chest like you were shielding the vulnerable parts of yourself you’d only just worked up the courage to expose.

Curling into yourself in the face of what you perceived as rejection.

He watched in a throat-tight panic as you nodded solemnly and made to squeeze past him, reaching for the door that had swung back closed behind him from the force with which he had thrown it open.

It was the brush of you against him that startled him back to life - a smack of reality cracking across his bewildered face that told him you were about to walk out of that door, out of their shitty hotel room and straight out his life if he didn’t stop you.

Steven was whirling around before his mind could even register having told his legs to move. He caught at your wrist with a shaky hand , the touch of it feverish against your skin that had rapidly cooled once outside the heat of the shower - goosebumps rising beneath his fingertips despite the balmy air that swirled around them.

You turned, fingers still grazing the door handle, and looked at him, wide eyed and apprehensive, unwillingly hopeful, and it was enough to make the muscles in his throat unlock. Words bubbling up and past his lips before he could even consider if they were the right ones.

“Did you mean it?” He rasped. “ You think of me when you touch yourself?”

There was silence for a second, maybe two, and by the way you sucked in a breath - lips parting as you stared at him - he suspected the question had been the last thing you expected to be asked.

It was agony to stand there and wait and Steven tried his best not to let it show, tried not to breathe because every inhale was drenched in you.

The scent of your shampoo and your body wash and your breath fanning across his lips when he subconsciously leaned closer. The weight of his heart that wasn’t really his anymore, hadn’t been since he met you, sat on his tongue. Ready to topple along with the desperate plea he was fighting to keep clamped behind his teeth.

Please. Please tell me you think about me too - that you want me just as much as I want you.

And then, “I did,” you whispered, soft and hushed like you were worried if you spoke any louder it would ruin whatever was happening between you, “I do.”

He surged forward and kissed you then. Both of you colliding with the door with the force of it, his lips crashing against yours like the world would spin off its axis if he didn’t have his mouth on you. It was a little clumsy but it still made your breath catch in your throat, made your body melt into his and your hands fly to clutch at the slopes of his shoulders as your surprise dissolved into something hungrier, the sensation of his mouth moving over yours dragging you under.

It wasn’t a sweet, soft thing like Steven had always imagined kissing you would go, all romantic like pretty sunsets and doves flying, a choir singing in the background as he tenderly cradled your cheeks in his hands.

It was tongue and teeth, months of repressed yearning bursting free and swallowing him whole, demanding that he devoured in turn. Making everything a little messy, touched with desperation. Frantic.

He let you part his lips, let you flick your tongue, quick and dirty, against his own and lick the needy groan from his mouth that followed until he was breathless and his knees threatened to buckle. A hand dropping to your waist to palm at the curve of it, fisting tight at the cotton towel, and the other sliding from your cheek to grasp a handful of the hair at the back of your head. Both meant to keep you locked to him just as much as it was supposed to keep him grounded.

Steven felt greedy with it, braver than he’d ever been with every little moan that slipped from your lips to his for him to swallow down and when you finally pulled back an inch gasping for breath, lips parted and expression looking entirely kiss-drunk, he felt like he’d found heaven.

His field of reeds, in the way your eyes were shining.

The way your fingers trailed up his neck and tangled in his curls to keep him from straying too far.

“You’re so beautiful.” He whispered, voice lovesick and bleeding awe, painting your mouth with a sparkling grin as he pressed each word to your lips when you tugged him back down to kiss him again. “More beautiful than anyone or anything I’ve ever seen.”

You sighed into him, the hand in his hair tilting his head so you could kiss him deeper, a little more demanding before your lips slipped to the corner of his mouth, his chin, his jaw, sliding down his throat to suck a bruise at the skin before dropping a sweet kiss over the mark that made his hips buck against you.

It had a groan tearing through Steven’s chest when you pressed back, all silky, steam-damp skin and barely any material between you that suddenly felt that much less with the way it was clinging to you both.

“Steven…please.” You breathed.

And gods, you sounded just as needy as he felt.

So he hitched your leg high up at his waist and rolled his hips a little harder, a little more deliberate, drawing back just enough that he could watch how your lashes fluttered and your mouth dropped open, trying his best to take note of the exact angle and pressure that made you keen so he could do it over and over again.

He could feel how wet you were, the bare heat of you soaking into his jeans, pressed tightly against where he was achingly hard beneath the denim and Steven felt himself twitch at every gorgeous sound that poured past your lips - at the way you had snuck you hand between your two bodies without him noticing to palm at the thick outline of his cock.

It made his jaw go slack from the pressure, brain fuzzy from the bolt of pleasure that skitted down his spine when you squeezed him just right and then he was curling himself over you, burying you into the door and mouthing sloppy kisses and obscene praise into the skin of your neck whilst he rocked his hips.

He forced himself to bite back a whine when you pushed him back an inch, extracting yourself from his grasp so you could stand before him properly, eyes glossy and a touch wild, all panting breaths as your fingers curled around the hem of his shirt and tugged.

“Need to feel more of you.”

And then you were yanking it over his head, throwing it somewhere to be forgotten about whilst you pressed your hands into the warmth of his chest and made a greedy noise of appreciation that threatened to make his heart burst, a groan rumbling in his throat in response when you dragged your nails ever so lightly across his stomach and down to the waistband of his jeans.

His hands found yours then. Stopping them from popping the button beneath your fingertips, and when your eyes shot to his, the beginnings of the soft frown that shadowed them melting into something akin to surprise once you caught sight of him, he wondered if you could read the desperation that he was sure was plastered all over his face.

Because it wasn't that Steven wanted to stop that had him catching at you.

It was the utter assurance that if you got your hands on him he wouldn't last a fucking second that made his voice hoarse and his own hands tremble as he all but begged.

"Tell me more of what you think about… tell me what you want."

And Steven didn't think he'd ever forget the way you looked at him then, eyes darker than he'd ever seen them, hungry. Lips kiss-swollen and parted as you sucked in a sharp breath. Looking so fucking sinful that it had him swallowing down a choked moan.

You looked wrecked by his words.

By him.

He was almost embarrassed by just how close the sight drove him. There was a swell of something unforgivingly hot behind his ribs, searing in his stomach and his veins, all liquid gold and white flame, and he couldn’t resist re-capturing your mouth in a kiss that echoed just how helplessly he was affected by it all.

You drew his hands up whilst his lips were busy curving over yours, pressing them to the place where the towel lay knotted against the warm flush of your chest and when he groaned at the implication, the way the material came that little bit looser at the slightest touch, you took advantage of his distraction to skim your mouth across his cheek and to the delicate curve of his ear.

“I want you to take it off, want you to touch me” you murmured, breath hitching when he obeyed with quick fingers, worn fabric slipping away in a soft rush the same way his own breath exited his lungs. “Please.” Added like it was possible he would even think of saying no, like his hands, large yet reverant, weren’t already exploring. Pulling shudders from your body with every light graze of his fingertips. “I think about it all the time.”

Steven was a goner. Utterly devoted to bending to every whim that you had, to acting out every thought that had popped into your head from whenever you had begun to want him until right then. He wanted to know it all.

How could he not be when you were reacting to him so beautifully?

Your fingers had left his to wander long ago so you could twist them into his hair instead. Using your hold to crush him into you further and kiss him breathless when he touched somewhere that made you arch, to tug just a little meanly at the soft strands when he lingered on his path to where you were apparently growing impatient for him, and by the time he was tracing the crease of your thighs you were both wound achingly tight, panting into each other’s mouths.

He matched your moan when he finally slid his fingers through your folds, throat tight and something like pride flaring deep in his chest at the soaked heat he found there. At the soft, broken noise you made when he pressed gentle circles over your clit.

“Is this what you wanted?” He whispered against your lips. “Tell me.”

Tell me what you like. Tell me what feels good. Tell me exactly how you picture it so I can give you everything you want.

Tell me, tell me tell me.

“Fuck, yes, more– please - don’t stop.” You rushed out, voice strained but he’d be a liar if he said it wasn’t the prettiest Steven had ever heard it. Absolutely hypnotising and he was under its spell without question, ready to worship at your altar in any way you deemed fit.

He kissed you with heavy-lidded eyes and open-mouthed, lips catching at yours in the briefest bursts because he couldn’t stop himself from staring at the way your chest heaved as he slipped a finger inside you, a second.

The way your own stare glazed when you told him just how much pressure to use whilst he curled his fingers and had you choking on the words, clenching around him before you could even finish.

You were feverish in his arms, mewling and arching as he picked up the pace and Steven almost lost his head at the state of you, trying his hardest to not bite his lip bloody when every flex of your hips into his hand had it pressing against his own need. He allowed himself to rock into you just once and then hastily pulled back as the pleasure burned white-hot, sliding his thumb a little firmer over your clit when you squirmed and whined at the loss of him.

“I know, I know– m’sorry love.” He gasped, breathless, chest tight and voice shot. “You feel so fucking good– I can't–”

You would be the death of him, he was sure of it. His hands shook, fingers curling around the nape of your neck in an attempt to hide it, and there was this unfathomable want clawing at his insides so savagely that he could hardly move without the friction of his jeans threatening to send him over the edge.

Bloody hell, you had him so fucking desperate he could scarcely think.

You both trembled as his lips ghosted across your cheek, each breath hot in your ear, as his voice quivered. “What else– what else do you need from me?- I’ll give you anything you want, darling, please.”

He barely registered the knock of your head falling back against the door, the whisper of a curse slipping past your lips, because at his words you had clamped tight enough around the twist of his fingers to make him shudder. Lashes fluttering at the way your nails bit deep into the muscles of his shoulders as the slick sound you being fucked on his hand grew over the roar of the shower.

“I- I don’t- Steven, oh fuck.”

Maybe that’s what did it. The way you were so ready to fall apart for him, all pretty and messy and pleading something sinful for more, more, more. Maybe it was the way the evening light peeking in from the tiny window had begun to turn into shadows, hiding the way his cheekbones were swept with pink better than the clouds of steam ever could.

Or maybe it was the fact that every time his name dripped off your tongue it made him feel so fucking wanted that he was delirious with it, his heart full and shining golden as you peeled back each of those strings of black tar insecurities that had choked the beating flesh for far too long.

Whatever it was, there was suddenly a new found confidence that burned through his veins, one that took every dirty thought swirling in his head and made him prepared to do them all. To give you anything you wanted, regardless of whether you were actually capable of forming the words for yourself.

There was no missing the blaze of your stare caught on his lips as he spoke after all.

Oh.

“Do you want my mouth?” Steven asked hoarsely against your throat. “Is that something you've thought about - you want me to taste you?”

He barely waited for your desperate nod and then he was gone. Dropping to the floor and ignoring the flash of pain that the cold tile spears through his knees as he buried his face between your soaked thighs.

The first flick of his tongue made your breath catch. The second had you twisting your fingers in the silk of his curls. A third had you tugging at him hard enough that Steven whined into you, the fingers that were dug into the meat of your thighs slipping to your ass to press you to him tighter, his hips thrusting against nothing whilst you bucked against the searing heat of his mouth, utterly uninhibited.

The sight of it was maddening, it was divine.

He still didn't quite believe this wasn't a dream.

There was sweat beading at your hairline - glistening along the column of your throat, the valley between your breasts. He watched the way your free hand trailed the softest path to one of them and squeezed, felt the way your body reacted to the added sensation in the flutter of your walls around his fingers. Squeezing tighter, tighter, tighter, as he rubbed at the soft patch of tissue until your thighs quaked around his head and you grew liquid.

Voice thread-bare when you whimpered that you couldn't take much more, that you were oh so close and please don't stop.

He went to flame then. To desperation and insanity and burning, searing need to devour you whole and drink you down until he either drowned or you had nothing left to give.

And just like you begged him to, he didn't stop until you spasmed and gushed around his fingers. Didn't stop when the call of his name cracked and broke as your voice gave out whilst he licked you through the violent crest of your climax until it's dying breaths and your body fell slack into the door. Propped up between the paint-chipped wood and Steven’s flushed body shoved tight against your own.

He didn't stop until you jerked in his hold, gasping and pleading, your fingers eventually releasing their tense grip in his hair to slip down to his chin, tilting it. Away from your swollen cunt as he was made to look up at you.

“Are you trying to kill me?” You laughed weakly, stunned gaze roving over every inch of him as you tried to catch your breath, and he wondered if he looked as wrecked as he felt before you. Wild haired and panting. On his knees with his eyes dazed and face coated glossy with you.

“I'm sorry,” he rasped, not bothering to even try and appear like he was very sorry at all, “you just taste better than I ever dreamed you would.”

Your eyes glazed a little at that, a dopey little smile playing at your mouth with it, as the first tendrils of hunger crept back into your expression alongside the tender amusement. “Fuck, Steven - who knew you were such a smooth talker?”

He laughed, a bright burst, cheeks kissed pink with the heat of your words and the slightly smug feeling of satisfaction that rumbled through his chest as he watched you glow with pleasure before ducking his head.

“I think that's all you, darling. I can't help it - not with the effect you have on me.” Steven mumbled, a soft and embarrassed grin tugging at his lips even whilst they trailed high over your shin to the crease behind your knee - rising up, up ,up to explore the warm skin of your inner thigh as his fingers swirled delicate little patterns at your ankle.

He couldn't stop touching you, couldn't feed the ache fast enough that came with needing to do it more than he already was.

And when his other hand swept the length of your leg to stroke over your belly you made a playful grab for it and brought it to your lips, eyes shining down at him at the way his lashes fluttered and his expression turned smitten before you tugged at him. Pulling him up your body until his jeans were scraping at your skin and his mouth was surrendering once more to yours in a syrup sweet kiss that burned deeper, more feverish, the longer it lasted.

Steven let you wind around him, let you urge him closer and closer until he was crushing you against the door at your back- wood slippery with condensation.

He let you roll your hips into his own and finally allowed himself to chase the pleasure with you as it renewed its intensity, let the thick outline of his cock rock against you until you were groaning into each other's mouths. Hands knotted in his hair and pearl-white teeth grazing the plush of his lip when you drew back to murmur.

“I want you inside me– want to make you feel good. Please, let me show you the effect you have on me.”

It sent a shock through him - ripped a low, guttural moan straight from his lungs that was followed by a heat-soaked curse that you took from him just as readily as you had everything else he'd given so far.

He didn't even blink before asking. “Can you say that again?”

You licked your lips and grinned, breath stuttering as he continued to move against you, fingers digging hard into the meat of your ass whilst you clung to him. “I need you inside me or I'm gonna lose my mind, it's all I've thought about for months - the way you'd feel- how you'd fuck me- oh gods.”

Another desperate noise. “Fucking hell. Again. Please.”

This time he didn't try to stop you when you reached for the last article of clothing keeping his body separated from yours.

There was the sharp clink of metal as you tore your hands from his hair to wrestle with his belt, your fingertips slipping over the leather whilst you fought to tug it free from the loops of his jeans before it fell to the tiled floor with a quiet thud and a clank.

And then you were pushing his jeans down just far enough until he was able to shakily kick them off. His heart in his mouth as he straightened, utterly naked before you apart from the shadows that slanted over his skin.

He felt a flicker - the ghosts of his insecurity passing over his face before he could blow them away like cobwebs- and prayed that you wouldn't notice. That you wouldn't mistake his hesitation for something else and even consider it to be directed at you.

But instead it seemed that you understood. Your hands found his jaw and you drew him into a kiss that ached. A lovely, bruising thing that had him melting into you, any insecurities fleeing so fucking far away that he could barely remember what they felt like.

You held him as tightly as you could and hummed in delight against his lips when he did the same and crushed you to his chest, the sound of it morphing into something needy as his cock throbbed, hot and smearing slick against your hip.

“I want you, Steven, I don't have the perfect words to explain just how much right now… just know that I need you so badly it hurts– it's hurt from the moment I met you and I don't think it'll ever stop no matter how much I might have you.”

Gods, you were threatening to undo him.

You had said you didn't have the perfect words and then given him everything he had dreamed of. Everything he thought he would die still wanting and never get to hear.

Steven swallowed hard, throat bobbing, and then he was bending down to lift you in his arms, the strength of a god thrumming through his muscles and large hands gripping beneath your thighs as you wound your arms around his neck, legs around his waist. Clutching needily at him whilst he peppered your face with sweet, breathless kisses.

“You can have me whenever you want,” he pressed the words into your jaw, the damp warmth of your cheeks as he walked you into the shower, murmuring the next ones over and over until the rush of the water threatened to drown them out, “I’m yours.”

You went soft for him in the cradle of his arms at that. Stripped down to your barest bones in the face of his raw emotion and it made his heart flutter and thump all too fast behind his ribs when your voice trembled on a sigh his name, so sweet and lovely.

Beneath the luke-warm spray and with cold tile at your back, you drew him closer, nudged your nose tenderly against his own and touched him as he fought to commit it all to memory. The way he felt - burning with each and every stroke of hand, each part of him alight as you murmured beautiful affections against his mouth - at the intimacy of it all.

The image of you that he was sure not even in death could take from him when it eventually came - eyes bright as jewels, lips swollen with his kisses, all lush, silken skin that shone under the weak stream of light the evening had yet to swallow. Droplets of water clinging to your hair and lashes like crystals. You looked like something ethereal, something otherworldly and untouchable, and the privilege he felt in being the one to see you that way, to contribute to the way you were a gorgeous mess, felt like something holy.

It was almost too much and Steven hissed sharply through his teeth when you finally guided him into you, a whimper caught in his chest and eyes screwed shut as you lowered yourself down inch by inch until his hips met yours. He felt like he was on fire, the warmth that had been blooming in his gut morphing into something violent and unimaginable that had his body tensing as he struggled not to finish before he’d even started. Head falling against your shoulder just before he felt your lips brush against his temple, parting on a rushed exhale.

“Oh,” you breathed, “fuck, Steven.”

At least, it seemed that you were in just as bad shape as he was. He’d probably say something similar if he could remember how to speak.

But his mind had splintered. Shattered apart to fragments and the only thing he could focus on was the way you were surrounding him- all slick, tight heat and the overwhelming sensation that burst through his chest of all his lost pieces suddenly slotting into place, like you were a part of his soul he wasn’t aware he was missing until you were finally joined once more.

“I’m sorry, I just need a minute.” He stuttered, voice hoarse and eyes blown wide, endlessly dark when he peered up at you. Half adoring, half pleading. “I want to make it good for you, you just feel so–gods, you feel too good.”

He could only moan when you kissed him, a filthy sound that would have had his cheeks flushing scarlet had he not been so out of his mind. Could only stare at you like you were pure magic taken form - no god or pact needed for whatever it was running through your veins - as you threaded your fingers through his hair and whispered. “It’s okay, Steven, it’s okay. It’s already so good, christ–you feel amazing, just let go for me, I want to feel it.”

It made his desperation threaten to win over. Head spinning as he dragged himself back out of you before surging back in, tightening his grip on your ass and lifting you up higher so he could do it again and again and again. Each thrust sliding you further up the tiles and pulling a strangled noise from the back of your throat that he quickly stole with greedy lips moulded over your own.

It started slow, deliberate and devastating, and then turned faster. Needier and unrestrained. The sound of panting breaths and skin on skin rising above the dull roar of water pelting against the tiled floor. Open mouthed kisses that were forced to come to an end because all the oxygen felt like it had fled both of your lungs, punched out everytime you slammed yourself down to meet the frantic rolling of his hips.

Steven had never felt anything like it and it was dangerously close to annihilating him completely.

There were wicked bolts of something animalistic, a feral rush of desire, threatening to weaken his knees and you gasped in surprise, legs clenching tight at his waist, when he moved to hold you with just one arm banded around across your back as his other hand slammed against the wall for support.

It changed the angle that he speared into you with and with the next thrust that came you were sobbing for him, seizing up like he’d plunged into the heart of your pleasure and pierced it - letting it flow out to the farthest reaches of you until you were curling into the solid press of him against you. Fingers in his hair and teeth searing a mark into his shoulder.

“Steven,” you whimpered and fuck, you sounded just as overwhelmed by it as he felt. Shaking in his arms as the heat wrapping around you both grew and grew. “Steven, Steven, Steven.”

It made him choke on his tongue, eyes rolling back at the way you were clenching around him as his thrusts became deeper, greedier. His cock harder than it had ever been whilst you made a mess of his stomach and his thighs and Steven couldn’t get enough, He was so close to losing his mind, so close to devouring you entirely and begging you to ruin him because every sound you made, every sweet little uh,uh,uh that tumbled past your lips was unlocking something wild tucked deep inside him that he was helpless to rein back. That had him babbling nonsense, incoherent words that dripped down on you like scalding hot honey.

And then he latched his mouth to your nipple, relishing the way you jerked as he flicked his tongue and scraped his teeth across the peak until you mewled before trailing a path of fire up to your collar bones and then higher again to the tender skin of your throat. Sucking a kiss there that had you keening and shone like a bruise when he drew back to meet your burning stare.

“Touch yourself.” Steven begged, more than a little desperate because you were so tight around him and he was so fucking close. Stomach quivering and flooding with golden heat. “Want you to show me– want to see how you touched yourself all those times you thought about this.”

You nodded slowly as if dazed by the request, lips parted and eyes gleaming dark. But you were quick to comply. Quick to thrust a shaky hand down to where he was fucking up into you, to the crest of your sex where you were soaked and scorching like a furnace, and once you were there, your fingers drew quick, sloppy circles to your clit that had you throwing your head back with a loud cry of his name whilst he watched, lust drunk and in awe.

“Shit, shit shit.” Each word that bubbled its way up your throat was ragged, edging on breathless as your back arched like a bow. “Steven, oh my god, I’m gonna–”

He surged up before you could finish, hand tearing away from the wall to tangle itself in your wet hair so he could drag your mouth to his and kiss you as you came. Holding you fiercely in place and groaning against your lips, swallowing down your own noises whilst your cunt fluttered around him, convulsing over and over until his movements grew frantic and messy. Warmth pulsing brightly in his groin and his stomach and his too tight chest.

It was too much - he was bordering on delirious. Everything was hot and wet and he was wound so tight that any moment it felt like he’d explode. Burst apart like confetti. It took every ounce of strength he had to stave off his own release so he could extend yours by letting the frantic rhythm of his snapping thrusts morph into a slow, intense grind that stole the breath from your chest and made it feel like he was melding himself to your body. Like you were burying into each other so deep that you would never truly be able to remove the imprint of the other afterwards.

There was a flash of pain from your nails scratching down his scalp and across the broad sweep of his shoulders, teeth scoring the softness of his bottom lip whilst shudders wracked your frame and it startled him, the low, starving noise it drew from his mouth. Knocked him flat when you drew the stinging flesh into your mouth, flicking your tongue against the marks you had left behind, and began to raise and lower yourself up and down on his cock that little bit faster despite the way he could feel the muscles of your thighs trembling around his waist.

And when you cupped his cheeks, eyes burning with a wicked hunger whilst you whispered against his mouth, Steven was utterly lost.

“C’mon Steven, let go,” you encouraged him, voice wrecked. Desperate. “Want you to come for me, I want to feel it, please.”

He fell apart for you then, crashed into bliss with his arms winding achingly tight around you as his hips stuttered and then came to an almost stop, twitching desperately and fused unyieldingly to your own. His vision going dark and your name like a prayer that he gasped into your skin over and over.

And when it all eventually calmed, the crashing of his heart beat against his ribs and your chaotic breaths, the exhaustion had him almost falling to the shower floor with you. Both of you slipping down the wall just an inch or two before he managed to right himself on weak legs to the sound of your startled laugh.

It wasn’t until he had set you down and moved to clean you up, massaging with gentle hands and tender sweeping kisses all the places that he’d gripped so tightly, the places where you were starting to bare his marks that had him frowning apologetically, that it finally hit him that the shower was running cold. You were both being pelted with what felt like tiny shards of ice against your rapidly cooling skin and you snorted a laugh when he yelped in shock and immediately dragged you out of there, eyeing him with a sticky-sweet kind of affection as he snatched the thickest towel he could kind and wrapped it around you before pulling you close in an attempt to warm you up.

The way you were looking up at him was making his chest ache, filling his lungs up with an adoring kind of wonder, the kind that sprouted wildflowers and soft vines that breached through all his organs to wrap around his ribs. Suffocating him in the best way with just how much he was in love with you.

It made it impossible for him not to ask. “Can I kiss you?”

And if he thought that you would laugh at him considering everything that had just happened, that only moments ago he’d been buried inside you, then he was delighted to be proven wrong. Because you were beaming at him the second the question rushed past his lips, eyes sparkling in the near dark of the tiny, damp bathroom.

“Please.”

So he kissed you like he’d always wanted to the first time, slipping his fingers through the wet tangle of your hair to cradle your head whilst his lips pressed sweetly and almost shy against your own. It unfurled like it held its own magic, the type that could stop time and make him feel like he was floating, tingles rushing all through his body until he was lightheaded and needed to draw back before he lost his breath to the irresistible pull of it all.

You just stood leaning into one another for a while, foreheads resting together, noses nudging each other lazily alongside the occasional soft brush of lips. And then you were wrapping him up in a towel of his own and leading him to the bed, using an extra towel to carefully dry him with a reverence that had his heart flip flopping in his chest and a blush rise high on his cheeks. He melted when you kissed him, little butterfly presses to his arms and chest before you pulled a clean sweater over his head, his thighs and his hips when he lifted them for you to pull his sweatpants on.

And once Steven had returned the favour, he was drawing you to him in the middle of the bed, your back to his chest and the food that had long gone cold balanced precariously on the blanket pooled around you both. He fed you bites of chorizo and feta fries, coated in herbs and sprinkled with pomegranate, whilst an old movie played and when those three words fell from his lips, without thought and as easy as breathing, Stevens was no longer afraid.

No longer felt in over his head.

He murmured against your hair. “I love you.” And swallowed the lump that threatened to form in his throat when you turned and smiled, your fingers touching his face like he was something precious you had spent a lifetime yearning for before giving him the answer to a question he’d always thought he’d have to ignore for the rest of his life to save his own heart.

“I love you too.”

#steven grant x reader #steven grant x you #steven grant #steven grant fanfiction #steven grant smut #steven grant imagine #steven grant fanfic #moon knight fanfic #moon knight fanfiction

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daisyswift3 · 5 months

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UMM so cruel summer and a lot of other songs are making a lotttt more sense now that I’ve realized the “devil” that Taylor keeps referring to is actually the music industry as a whole thanks to @keepingsecretstokeepyoutk (see this post). “He looks up grinning like a devil” // “I would’ve stayed on my knees and I damn sure never would’ve danced w the devil AT 19” // “Dear reader if you aim at the devil make sure you don’t miss.” Do you remember the Top Global Artist vid that spotify released that had cruel summer as the background song and had a bunch of cruel summer references? Yeah go back and watch that again w this context in mind 😃 Taylor (the angel) has had enough of the games and is gonna end them once and for all which is very Katniss Everdeen of her—hello the archer 🏹 if any of you have read or watched the hunger games you know how the story ends

And you'll also remember that Katniss escapes the games twice by cheating--the first time w poison berries and the second time by destroying the arena itself (which was a clock) WITH itself using a lightning strike current at midnight that shot thru her arrow -> "And there was one prize I'd cheat to win." Not to mention Katniss was the mockingjay, a symbol of rebellion and resistance. And the fire symbolism in this trilogy was meant to represent how that rebellion can spread from a spark of hope. Snow lands on top but fire melts snow. Taylor is a huge hunger games fan so I wouldn't be surprised at all if these parallels were intentional. Also I'm not the first one to notice the hunger games connections, I saw some other gaylors point this out so I can't take full credit for that

“You play stupid games you win stupid prizes” // “Devils roll the dice” // "Baby let the games begin" // The scrabble instagram post // The mastermind chess board // "You see all the wisest women had to do it this way, cause we were born to be the pawn in every lover's game" // "No more keeping score now I just keep you warm. No more tug of war now I just know there's more"

I think it's possible Taylor knew that her masters were gonna be sold hence all the game imagery and songs abt heartbreak on lover

She's literally gonna take down the industry as a whole and expose everything. This is the reason for all the cryptic messages and meticulous planning. AND THIS IS WHAT THE ALBATROSS IS ABT TOO. “She’s the albatross she is here to destroy you.” They tried to keep her locked away in cages and towers and closets and tried taming her and pulling out her teeth but it didn’t work

“Devils that you know raise worse hell than a stranger” SHE’S the devil now and she’s abt to make their lives a living hell

“She’s the death you chose” i.e. the music industry chose to kill Taylor (which is why TTPD is a post-mortem album) so now she’s coming back to haunt them hence the ghostly Victorian attire. “We gather here we line up weeping in a sunlit room and if I’m on fire you’ll be made of ashes too.” THIS is the karma she’s talking abt that will happen at midnight!!

“You’ll see me in hindsight tangled up w you all night burning it down”

I am the APPARITION. I am the LINE OF POETRY. THAT’S TAYLOR. SHE’S THE GHOST WRITING POST-MORTEM POETRY

Literally feel like I am abt to explode from all the earth-shattering revelations I’ve just had

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lilibethwrites · 1 year

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A Midsummer Night’s Pain

Aegon II Targaryen x Wife!Reader

Warnings: Spoilers for Rook’s Rest, NSFW (smut)

Word count: 5876

Ao3 & Masterlist

Aegon returns from Rook’s Rest with severe injuries, and your lives change forever. While he is haunted by aches that would put a lesser man to the ground, you are at your wit’s end with his stubborn refusal of help. A sleepless night of slowly healing burns and bones leads you both to introspection and confrontation. Heated exchanges, frustrated sighs, and hungry kisses restore your belief in the strength of your bond built on devotion and love.

Aegon was no stranger to sleepless nights. Anger, frustration, the immutable urge to suppress all parts of him until he was stripped down to bare flesh and bones and the basest of urges as he got so masterfully lost in the dark, narrow streets of Flea Bottom among a sea of drunkards swaying side to side… If one didn’t know any better, one would assume the dark hours of the night, the hour of the ghost or the nightingale or the wolf were all dedicated to him, that he was the ghost that haunted the stone halls of the Red Keep, the nightingale that sang with a few tankards of Flea Bottom ale or better in his belly, the wolf that bared his teeth as good as any Stark should the occasion necessitate it.

Then, Flea Bottom was stolen from him, and then, so was his flesh. His brother had traded an eye for a dragon, though no one, no one at all could say if he meant his words or if he were too muddied of the mind on the Milk of the Poppy—he was fed about the same amount as a grown man would be— to make sense when he found the exchange fair. Aegon, however, was painfully sober and himself when he was made to trade his home a bit far from home for a crown which once sat on the forehead of his namesake. Aegon certainly did not wish to take his golden boy to the skies for bloodshed and pain. In fact, he always, though quietly, maintained that Sunfyre was a masterpiece fallen from Seven Heavens. Too exquisite, too regal, too graceful, too beautiful to be a tool of war; no, Sunfyre wasn’t designed for tragedy, it suited him ill.

But curiously, while all else slipped from his fingers, you remained. You’ve been a friend, loyal and patient when Aegon knew any better than to fall to his knees and worship you, then, a lover, passionate and steadfast even when Aegon was difficult to love even to the flesh that breathed life into him. So, when Aegon had left with a finger under your chin, with his lips on yours, with an ornate armour fit for a king, with a rich velvet cloak cascading down his shoulder, you remained hopeful. Perhaps for the first time, you brought your palms together and turned your eyes to the sky, beyond the clouds where Aegon and Sunfyre eclipsed the beauty of the sun itself to vanquish the enemy, to the Gods. You prayed, you begged to have your husband back.

“I would be a cripple otherwise”, you had petitioned. “He is half me, I am half him. He is the heart of my heart.”

Gods had listened, but Gods also delighted in mischief and trickery at the expense of good, undeserving souls. Aegon was brought back to you upon loyal shoulders, unconscious and beyond recognisable with the dark red of his drying blood and the ugly brown of earth caked in his hair, on his face, on what flesh was revealed from his armour.

Grand Maester Orwyle suggested it was better you did not look. He reasoned it was a sight too ghastly for the fairer sex to behold.

“He is my husband, for the Seven’s sakes!” You threw decorum out the window when you grabbed the long chain snaked around the Maester’s neck.

“You will allow me in. Your queen demands it.”

The man had no choice but to bow his head, to step aside so you would enter the solar repurposed as a second office for the Maesters with a grandiose bed pushed to the end of it, concealed with the heavy drapes of the canopy pulled—what dignity was there for Aegon to preserve? Has he ever had it, anyway? Hasn’t he always been the odd one out, the one disowned at the drop of a hat, over and over again? Nothing precious about him, nothing noteworthy, nothing of value was lost. That has always been his belief; that has always been what he was led to believe.

“The only time my mother touched me was when she struck me in the face. Even then, I imagine, her breakfast must have heaved in her stomach… She looks upon me as she would a rat caught between the walls,” he’d once confessed over warm, watered-down wine of a Flea Bottom wine sink he’d taken you to.

“I love you. I desire to love you to the end. I desire to show you that I love you. I do not know how. I was never given it…” His plush lips had twisted into a lopsided smirk, acidic and self-loathing. It must have been him, he always thought. His mother was capable of showing love otherwise. She gave love to a man rotting on his feet, who only ever took her so he would put babes in her womb—and then forget about them and venerate the one he already had. His mother showered Helaena with love, his mother worshipped Aemond after her daily prayer to the Seven, and she never once stopped admiring Daeron even if all he did was pack up and leave. Aegon was left to seek love elsewhere, pitiful bits at a time. That was, until you came along.

“I fear I will make a mess of it. I muck everything up,” he had sniffled—then, wiped his cheeks on the back of his hand, blinked, and returned to the man unbothered by all, like the scales of a dragon deflecting Scorpion bolts.

But you knew, oh, you’ve always known. There were cuts within him that never ceased bleeding. The superficial ones were easily remedied with drinks and gathering up of your skirts and the loosening of your bodice. But those? Those needed precious care, all the patience in the world, and a stream of love to rival the supposed stream of Arbor Red that runs across Seven Hells, as Aegon alleged.

“Tis makes little sense. Why would wine run from a stream? And why in Hells, and not in Heavens?” You’d inquired once.

He’d shrugged. His brows furrowed in mock disappointment as if you’d failed to grasp a point so explicitly made.

“So I can enjoy it, of course. How am I to do so if it runs in Heavens?”

Even the most optimistic of his men shared in hushed whispers their doubts that the king would ever awaken. Some urged that his brother be named Prince Regent at once and overtake the matters of the Realm presently. Some found it treacherous, and what would become of you?

You were about as concerned with anything beyond the body lying limp on the bed as the brass candelabra that sat beside it. You broke your fast and took your supper beside Aegon, you bathed and read beside him. You curled up to his body and gave your ear to the slow thumping of his heart at nights.

Aegon got worse before he got better. He came down with the fever, and though Grand Maester reassured you it was a testament to the glorious resilience of the constitution of our king, you were a revenant floating up and down the chamber until his flesh ceased burning from the inside.

Then, unceremoniously, he awoke.

His throat was dry, his voice unused. The usual velvety quality was subjugated to raspiness.

“I mucked it up… again,” I told you I would, he meant to continue, but his tongue felt too heavy.

Your back was turned to him, your eyes set upon the silhouette of the Street of Silk with its pillow houses growing taller by the day, your nails digging into your palms as if the pain you’ve inflicted upon yourself would miraculously shave off the affliction your beloved husband was no wonder subjected to.

You flinched. You’ve never quite lost hope, but perhaps, deep down, the reunion you often thought of was one where you would join Aegon, not the one where he would return to you.

You were on him, and Aegon did not make a sound of pain lest your arms abandoned him. How was it that you were glad and not ashamed to see him? He had expected you to call him over the coals. What sort of man was he anyway, defeated by a single rider with his brother in the sky with him? What sort of king was he anyway, that he failed the one thing any dragon rider would have accomplished as easily as pulling a hair out of butter?

But you drowned him in kisses and praises bordered on adulation instead. Aegon soon found he strongly preferred your gentle touches and generous flattery to any medicine the Maester could concoct.

The burns began to scab over soon after, though the pain remained. He would have accepted it easier if it was constant, but instead, it elected to come at odd hours and inconvenient times, striking out of nowhere like a snake coiled in the bushes of the gardens below his window.

Thereafter, Aegon was once again no stranger to waking up in the hour of the ghosts, with salty sweat burning his deep-set eyes and a sharp, burning pain splitting him open from head to heart like a Valyrian sword. He’d often stay up, though against his wishes this time, stirring and clutching the sheets or the pillows and biting down on his plump lips until teeth tore skin and blood prickled, until the hour of the owl or the nightingale—he’d often lose track—gave way to dawn.

It was one such night when you awoke, or rather, you were awakened by Aegon’s stirring and grunting, controlled despite the overwhelming agony lest he woke you from your deep slumber. You’ve been the one constant thing of comfort in his life since the moment your fingers intertwined with his. He held your hands like a rider would the reigns of his dragon for fear that he would slip from the saddle and perish, and he intended to only let go to be burned to ashes, stuffed in an urn. No matter the pain, the frustration, the anger, he would behold you and be swiftly reminded that there was at least one good thing in the world still, and so the sun would have a reason to rise for another day. But even the most ardent, noblest love had its limits in the face of nearly-intolerable pain.

You turned with your heavy eyelids, almost out of reflex, as you often did in your sleep when your bodies separated too far apart for your liking. You hummed with a hand searching for his face, starting at his damp chest and moving up. It was a humid day, an even less bearable eve, and a torturous night that made you sweat as you remained motionless, sticking the soft, silk chemise to your flesh.

Aegon inhaled a sharp breath, steeled himself, and his slender fingers wrapped around your wrist, bringing it to his lips.

“Nightmare?” You asked. He has been plagued by them all his life. They were few and in-between back then, back when wine could dull them. They became sharper with the weight of the hefty crown on his head. They came in spades with unyielding force until he jumped from the bed and leaned so dangerously low on the stone guards of his balcony to burn his lungs with the night air.

“No,” he whispered, shuddering and panting.

You knew, then. In fact, you’ve known the moment you awoke, yet, you wished to be wrong.

His aches got worse whenever he clenched his teeth all day or in his sleep, and he did so when his stress climbed and overtook ration. Anger often superseded all other senses then, and you often assumed this crippling pain was a defence mechanism instilled by nature within Aegon. It hurt him, yes; seeing him hurt also pained you gravely. But, it was a blessing, it stayed Aegon’s hand from greater destruction. At least, that has been your weak miseration, except, pains often crept upon your husband in the dead of the night, like a cowardly enemy hiding behind the walls.

“Oh,” you mumbled softly, half with the devotion of a wife falling for her husband more and more each day, and the care of a mother who would feel twice the pain her babe suffered.

“I should summon the Maester, have him prepare some—”

“Please, no need, love. I—I shall be better, soon… Just… sleep it off,” Aegon attempted to halt you, speaking through gritted teeth on the verge of shattering.

If there was ever a soul to match Aegon’s unyielding obstinacy, it was you and your indomitable mulishness. Aegon admitted so, when he kneeled before you and presented you with a newly minted ring impressed with the three-headed dragon of his family, asking for your hand in marriage. It was a jarring sight, the crown prince, the reluctant, forgotten heir under a moth-bitten cloak, brandishing a golden ring so expensive it could buy the entirety of the Bottom and still demand a few silver stags in change. He would not have imprinted the ring with the heraldry of his family, the one that so trenchantly refused him, if he didn’t so ardently wish to do his proposal properly. You deserved nothing less. You were not some pillow wench or a widow, wed to be bred or fill the diminishing coffers.

“Tis no pain you can sleep off.”

It was not a bargain he would win. You rolled out of the bed to stick your head out of the door, to ask Ser Criston if he would be so kind as to have Grand Maester Orwyle prepare something for the pain. That was all you needed to relay. The pain only meant one thing, the kind that would’ve put a lesser man in an early grave; not a simple headache or upset stomach, but the pain to dwarf all pains.

Before long, an ornate silver platter was delivered to you. Upon it was a delicate vial with translucent liquid, and a teapot with matching painted china from Lannisport.

First, you poured the content of the vial on a cotton cloth, and sat beside Aegon on the edge of the bed.

His pale cheeks were reddened with the pain that had him clenching and whimpering. His eyes, usually big and bright and oh-so-mischievous, were squinted in exhaustion, forming deep lines between his brows.

“You should not suffer it alone. You gave me your word you would not anymore,” you whispered, dabbing the cloth on the scabs of his burns, tracing the angry-red-turning-brown from his cheek to his chest.

It stung at first, and Aegon gasped, closing his eyes and flinching away before he could catch himself. He balled his hand into a fist after that, and braved the pain in pursuit of relief. Truth be told, your presence alone was more relief than any medicine of the Citadel, even when he was nearly certain the pain would blind him.

“You looked—you looked serene, bathed in the moonlight. Could not—could not dare disturb your slumber.” His voice was low and gravelly despite the grandiose artistry of a pompous bard he attempted to invoke. The corners of his lips twitched up into a faint smile before turning upside down with the pain a gesture as small as that caused.

“I shall not be swayed by honeyed words, Aegon,” you attempted to be stern, but you knew you were swayed already. He did, too.

“It passes, love. It always does. Just—just a matter of… patience.”

Then, when his head lulled on the pillow so he could look at you better; in the pale moonlight, you saw the tears that stained his eyes. The pain was only half the reason for them. Aegon was ashamed to be a burden to you, his lover, that he must protect and provide for as any man with a sliver of chivalry should, not lay in a bed halfway paralyzed. Useless. A burden. An inconvenience. Dependent on the charity of his wife.

You brushed short, choppy strands of silver that stuck to his damp forehead and cheeks away, and passed your hand over his head until he leaned into your touch.

“We are a soul split in half,” he once told you, drunk enough to be brave but sober enough to mean every word. He was right. You were privy to the thoughts galloping in his mind.

“Will you ever understand it to be an insult that you would flee from my care? I wish to care for you.”

Aegon’s response was averting his eyes and inhaling a deep breath. His burnt hand, on the mend but likely to never regain its motion in entirety, stiffly patted your thigh and remained resting there.

“Milk, then?”

The offer was in vain. Once Aegon awoke, he trenchantly refused to be dulled. However maddening the pain might be, he desired to tough it out—sober. There were times his boyish mulishness was endearing, but this wasn’t one of them. You struggled to understand how it would serve him to be crushed under pain unnecessarily when the remedy awaited him in the pot. You were growing impatient with witnessing Aegon’s suffering helplessly.

“Why must you be so bloody-minded, huh? If this is your twisted idea for self-flagellation, cease it! Whatever imagined failure you punish yourself for does not exist! Whatever perceived shortcoming you may think you have exhibited is a delusion! What does this help? This—this violent suffering in absolute vain?!”

You rose from the edge of the bed, pacing towards the table with the intent of smashing the pot to bits against the wall. Aegon was torturously reticent at times when he doubted the outcomes of speaking his mind.

“Nothing!” You spoke, or rather, yelled on his behalf. “Accomplishes nought but further torment!”

“I was kept on—on Gods know what when I should have been awake!” Aegon raised his own voice then.

It was a strong mixture of Sweetsleep and the Milk of the Poppy dissolved in alcohol. The Maesters didn’t want to leave his rest to chance. For a good reason, too, as Aegon grew restless the moment he could move his limbs once again.

“I have failed you—you all.” Without his mother to deliver the punishment to his cheek in the form of slaps or his arms in the form of mean pinches that bruised without fail, he had to take the matter into his own hands.

“You do not even hear me, do you?” You mumbled, hunched on a chair by the table. “I am simply speaking to the walls… you shall believe what you will no matter what.”

Perhaps it would have pained Aegon less if you kicked up a storm, and turned the chamber upside down until nothing but broken and shattered bits of furniture and glass and torn tapestries remained. But to hear the helpless defeat in your voice instead? The low but unmistakable tinge of exhausted despair entered his ears and trailed down his throat as if he swallowed melted iron hot from a blacksmith’s forge.

He let the silence hang above your heads like the scythe of the Stranger for a moment or two that dragged on endlessly, then, he broke it himself. Though that time, his own words came out choked and quiet.

“You should not have wed me,” he murmured, half in shame and half in agony. “My brother… perhaps half a man in soul and half a petrified gargoyle, but intact in flesh… somewhat. Hah,” Funny how things turned out. Perhaps he deserved this not for the lecherous revelries but for being a passed-out drunk on the steps of Driftmark when his brother was robbed of an eye. “Would’ve served you better all the same.”

“What nonsense,” you scoffed. His words deserved a harsher response, perhaps, but the notion was so ridiculous to you that all you could do was shake your head in incredulity. “Surely you do not mean it?” Surely, he wishes for a reaction, to elicit a rise from you.

“Look at me… what good am I to you in this state? A broken man, through and thorough.” Growing bitter by the day, too.

“You know I would prefer the worst of you to the best of anyone else. Anyone… you know it, Aegon.”

You approached the bed again under Aegon’s alert gaze. His pale eyes caught the light of the candles; you always thought a bit of Sunfyre was in him.

“I was not under the naïve assumption that it would be easy when I fell for you.” Your hand reached for his, kissing his knuckles one by one before enveloping it in case he withdrew. “You asked me once if I loved the idea of you. Do you not remember what I said?”

Aegon looked down with a wistful smile, then, dragged his gaze back to your face.

“You told me… that whatever I may be, or become, would eclipse what you could ever conjure up.”

“You did not believe me then, and you certainly do not believe me now.” There was no bite to your words; what little anger rose in your chest was short-lived. You’ve always found it rather difficult to stay mad at Aegon for long. You brought his hand to your cheek and pressed a kiss on his palm.

“I thought you were mad for it. Twas no easy promise, not when it is me you dedicate—”

The finger on his lips caught Aegon off-guard, and your soft lips upon his parched ones that followed were always welcome—in fact, they were desperately needed above air and sustenance.

Your hands cupped his face; his cheeks were full again, though the colour hadn’t returned in full yet. The tip of your nose touched his, and Aegon leaned in to press another kiss to your lips. It was chaste, close-mouthed, like a seal to a missive.

“I love you,” you whispered against his lips. A hand trailed down to his neck, and another rested on the back of his head, your fingers found their home in his dishevelled hair.

“I love all of you, down to your very essence. I do not care what the Realm thinks of you. I do not care what you think of yourself. I know you, and I love you.”

Your lips moved up, planting a kiss on the space between his nose and lips where light hair began to tickle—he was due for a shave— another to his cheek, then another to his jaw, and one more to the dimple in his chin.

“I love the sound of you, I love the scent of you, I love the feel of you...”

Aegon drew a deep, shaky breath when your lips moved further down to his neck, then, to his bare chest. His chest began to heave and fall quicker under your lips, blood began to rush down to his breeches. Just like that, so easily, you have worked your magic. A quiet spell fell from your lips, and Aegon snapped out of his self-pity. Well, partially. The Aegon that he was almost getting comfortable with being, the one who hadn’t resented the crown all that terribly anymore, the Aegon that had almost returned to his suave, younger self, would have flipped you on your back by now, hiked your chemise up to your waist and undone the ribbons that held your stockings to your thighs with his teeth, as he often loved to do so to the music of your giggles and gasps. That man would have buried his face between your legs already, but, this man was unsure if he could even please you with his fingers anymore.

“Nothing has changed. You have not changed. You feel the same, you taste the same. No one will ever hope to compare,” you whispered against his warm skin, right above the waist of his breeches where a light patch of hair disappeared into and the wet trail of your kisses concluded.

Aegon was semi-erect when you palmed him through the rough fabric of his trousers. You’d done this more times than even the Maesters could count, and some said they knew infinite numbers. Yet, this time you couldn’t roughly pull at the laces and tug his member until his hips quivered and rose from the mattress to hit the back of your throat, to feel the contraction, to see your eyes widen. No, with shattered bones and scorched flesh, you needed to be cautious in the ways you’ve demonstrated your love.

You licked your lips as Aegon peered at you intently. A hot palm with cold fingers slipped down Aegon’s trousers and gripped his length, and he shivered with anticipation. How long has it been anyway? Felt like a few lifetimes to him.

You began by stroking him, then, pulled the waistband down around his thighs, and wrapped your lips around the reddened, crown of his cock. Aegon attempted to push himself deeper, but yielded with a whimper. Your head bobbed to the rhythm of your lover’s moans and muffled praises bleeding into curses, picking up the pace as his panting grew quicker. A hand wrapped around the base of his shaft intent on pushing Aegon to the very peak with touches to his heavy stones, while another ghosted fingers across his abdomen. He laced his fingers in your hair in response, neither pushing nor pulling, simply savouring the privilege of getting to feel you—any part of you—on his fingertips again. He’d realized there was much he’d taken for granted with you, high on the vapours of confidence that he would not be parted from you so untimely and unexpectedly.

“Love, not—Gods! Not long, now,” he rasped. His better leg began to twitch and bounce, and his manhood in your mouth throbbed with each hollowing of your cheeks. His heart thumped erratically, he was certain you could hear it down between his legs with loud it was. Sweat beaded at his forehead and rolled from his hairline to his neck. Aegon almost always sounded as if he were about to weep when he was brought close to his release. “’Tis only you,” he’d told you once as he’d embraced you on a mattress stuffed with straw in a rented tavern room, “who has ever managed this—to reduce me to a whining fool. Cross my heart.”

The pit of Aegon’s stomach churned and a brief but nothing less than torridly intense shiver rippled through him. Though he would have gladly traded all his limbs—for what value they held now—to release inside your walls and watch his seed leak out of you, he couldn’t be a choosing beggar until he could cage you under his body again. So, he spilt himself in your mouth, and for a moment, before he began to come down, the entire world consisted of the warmth of your mouth and the throbbing of his cock.

It would take the Seven Realms twice over to truly break the spirit this man, your Aegon. You’ve never once doubted it, and he proved you right when his lips quirked into an impish smirk as soon as his breathing began to settle down to a more even beat, and he watched you with dark eyes as you swallowed his load and wiped the drool off your chin.

“Gods, sometimes I question if I took a Street of Silk whore for a wife,” he teased, though his joke was laced with lust and his voice was husky. He left your hair to caress your cheek, then, reached for your hand to pull you up and closer to him.

“As if they’d wed you,” you snorted.

With a hand in your hand, and the burnt one on your hip, Aegon was persistent in pulling you up to himself. It wasn’t so much the climbing him you feared, but the warm dampness between your legs threatened to take the reins until you found yourself seated on his hips, grinding with unprecedented urgency. But neither of you was quite known for your cautious ways, so you found a place to rest right above Aegon’s waist where the burns healed the quickest and the bruised to his ribs faded. With the salty aftertaste of him on your tongue and fatigue beginning to settle, you were ready to cuddle into his good side and slumber for whatever short time you could until dawn broke. Yet, Aegon had different plans altogether. He's never been a man to remain beholden to someone, especially in matters of pleasure.

So, his fingers snuck under your shift and found your heat like liquid mercury to a magnet. It wasn’t the easiest to pleasure you like this, not when he was spoiled with being used to spreading your legs and pumping his fingers faster each time you whined and attempted to squeeze your thighs together to resist the climax he was beckoning. If you had devised this intricate plan to have him willingly submit to the Maesters, so he would heal as swiftly as his flesh allowed, so he would once again bury himself deep inside you, Aegon would have to admit you have succeeded.

“C’mere, luv” he tapped on the side of your thigh, coaxing you to move up and up until you were nearly seated on his chest.

“C’mere, I said,” he feigned annoyance at your reluctance. But it wasn’t so much reluctance as it was confusion. You’d only assumed he wanted you closer so he would get a better look at your glistening cunt, or reach your slit better. So, Aegon had to meet you halfway. With his fingers digging into your bare ass, he slouched with the urgency you wouldn’t have thought his body was capable yet, and he pulled you to his face.

You gasped his name and held onto the ornate headboard lest you truly sat on his face and gave him another part to ache. You could feel his warm breath on your dampness, and his lips soon began to drag across the sensitive flesh.

“Do not hover, darlin’, sit. Fear not, you shall do me no harm. I’ve survived worse, I assure you that my wife’s cunt will only do me good.”

His fingers dug deeper into the tender flesh of your ass, he pulled you down on himself until you could feel the stubble around his lips and chin on you. He gave you a torturously long and slow, flat-tongued lick across your slit and groaned into your warmth. It was mostly muffled when he proclaimed with lust that he “could dine on you forever.”

Your swollen, sensitive nub was flicked by his nose with each forward thrust of his face to bury his pointed tongue deeper inside you hungrily and to devour you better. The mewls and moans of his name from your lips and your taste on his tongue drove Aegon nearly into madness. He wasn’t sure he could feel pain even if someone took a hacksaw to his legs.

As Aegon alternated between fucking you with his tongue and swirling his tongue over your slit to collect your slick greedily, your skin heated up and your face grew so hot you suspected your cheeks might catch fire and burn down to sinew. Despite the white-knuckled grip on the headboard, you began to buck your hips into his mouth.

The more Aegon groaned into your cunt and frantically lapped at you, the more you took the name of the Seven in vain, jolted and arched your back with each slight contact of his teeth or a rough brush of his stubble whenever he turned his head to gasp for air. Aegon went on as if he could tirelessly to the ends of days, but your muscles began to tighten and your walls fluttered. Aegon’s hands on your hips stilled you from jerking involuntarily; he did deserve to savour your release after the hard work he’s put in, after all.

Soon, you were crying out Aegon’s name in ecstasy, hips stuttering while you writhed on his face, sinking your fingers into his hair to pull his head back and away from your cunt to no avail. Slick ran down his chin, and you slumped over with breath hitching and knees weakened by how your limbs cramped and quivered. Though you were prudent enough to lift yourself off of him and roll to the side, Aegon wouldn’t have minded if you decided to remain perched on his face for the rest of the night.

The chamber was heavy with the unmistakable, musky smell of sweat and sex despite the windows. You both laid with on your backs, panting and chests heaving for a moment. You supposed you might have stumbled if you left the bed now; weak knees and dizzy head hardly made a good combination. A cup of wine shared between your lips and his would’ve served well now, but Aegon’s hand splayed on your warm belly, and he guided you to his side instead.

“Stay,” he purred, and you did.

You buried your face against his throat, and he whispered sweet nothings into your hair, inhaling your scent. His hand moved to your back, rubbing comforting circles and tracing patterns you couldn’t quite figure out. Your breath on his neck tickled him ever so slightly, you’ve always known it, but you’ve always enjoyed the stifled chuckles too much to stop. In fact, Aegon wouldn’t have let you if you tried.

Nothing needed to be said, the silence was intimate and comfortably shared. Aegon preferred it this way; he could never quite do justice to his feelings with words, they often failed him. I love you in Common Tongue wasn’t enough, avy jorrāelan in High Valyrian never sounded right, but to serve you until you moaned loud enough to wake the Red Keep has always felt right. Look how much I’ve grown to learn you, look how I know you like no one else, look how I’ll toil between your legs until my last breath just to see that exhausted, sheepish smile on your face, look how I’ll defy my own nature if I must to hear my name fall from your lips just once more. It felt right to you, too. You’ve seen Aegon at his most vulnerable, you touched his hair as he wept on your lap, you fought over insignificant things that always ended with shattered vases and broken goblets and your bodies tangled like the stems of summer daisies, you’ve seen too much of his love to need to hear the words anymore. They were sorely paled in comparison to this silence that you shared. And tonight, Aegon has felt better than he has in a long while; the damage to his pride healed by your gentle hands and his mind was taken off self-pity that brewed and festered.

The Maesters might have saved Aegon’s flesh, but he was certain, as you drifted off and his eyes trailed off to the starless night beyond his window, that you have saved his spirit.

I have a permanent Aemond tag list, but let me know if you'd like to be tagged for any future Aegon II fics. For now, only tagging @aegonx

#aegon targaryen x reader #aegon targaryen ii x reader #aegon ii x reader #aegon targaryen #aegon ii targaryen #hotd #taps the mic ello babes ive returned from the war #to indulge in eggon no less

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azrielhours · 2 years

Text

Star Crossed Lovers (Pt. 2)

Azriel x Reader

Word count: 4.6k

Synopsis: Reader and Az are in love but have a falling out bc Az self sabotages. Rhys and Cass play matchmaker. Reader sneaks into his room on solstice; they have a heart to heart and a groin to groin :)

Warnings: Smut.

(Part 1)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Fall.

Flipping through your book, you basked in the life found on the pages. These days, you’d made a habit of walking the streets of Velaris when night fell, seeking the cold to contest the numbness inside. A phantom amongst the citizens; the biting wind your companion, the night sky your witness. Today, you found yourself stumbling into the bookstore you frequented with Azriel before your fallout.

You hadn’t seen him since that summer night in the Day Court mansion. A room with less rigid walls than those enclosing your heart. A desk that went from barrier to brace. A hazel-eyed prince amongst males with his head between your thighs—

You shuddered. It haunted you in the most delicious way. Shelving the book, you made your way to the shop exit.

“Y/N?”

The familiar voice had you halting, turning. Cassian and Rhys were in the foyer, looking just as surprised to see you.

Before you could offer a greeting, Cassian came bounding over. He enveloped you in a crushing embrace, lifting you. You laughed at his affection, hugging him back just as tightly. “Hi, Cass.”

“Where’ve you been hiding?” he asked, setting you on your feet. He looked down at your figure, brows pinching at your visible weight loss.

“Nowhere, I’ve just been—uh, I’ve been busy, you know, with writing and stuff.” You gave your most convincing smile.

Rhys approached you, opening his arms to you. “How’ve you been?” he hugged you warmly, placing a kiss on your shoulder.

“I’ve been good. How’ve you guys been?”

“Everyone’s good, we missed you these past few weeks,” Cassian said.

Rhys looked you over, his concern concealed as poorly as Cassian’s was.

You shifted beneath their assessments. “What are you guys doing here?”

“We bought some books for Nesta for Solstice,” Rhys said.

Cassian silently offered his arm, turning to exit. “So, Y/N,” he drawled.

You laughed, taking his arm. “Yes, Cassian?” you smiled up at him as he led you out of the shop, Rhys following suit.

Cassian smiled lovingly. “Everything going okay, sweetheart?”

You blushed. “Yes, everything is good.”

He hummed, skeptical. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” you laughed. “I’m fine.”

He dropped his charming demeanour. “Did you leave Damian? Is that what’s bothering you?”

“No, we’re still together.” A deep breath. “He, um, he asked me to marry him, actually.”

Cassian’s eyes widened, his stride halting. “What?” He faced you. “Did you say yes?”

“I—I said I’d think about it.” The brothers swapped a troubled glance before facing you again. “What?” you asked.

Rhys gave a contemplative look. “Are you…happy with him?”

“Yeah. I’m—I’m happy.” They stared blankly, making you laugh at the blatant disbelief. “I am, guys. Really.”

“Sure you are,” Cassian jested. “You look like a ghost, Y/N. I don’t know if that’s my idea of nuptial bliss.”

��Why does this sound so familiar,” Rhys broke into a sly smile.

Cassian caught onto the insinuation. “You’re right, Rhysie. This is the type of delusion Az was spewing before he left his girl.”

Your jaw dropped, making both brothers grin. “What?”

“Yeah, kid. Az broke up with his girlfriend. Did that jackass really not tell you?” Cassian added.

“When?”

“Before the summer,” Rhys said.

Before the summer.

Before the fucking summer.

That means he’d been single when he saw you in the Day Court when he—

“You good, Y/N?” Cassian’s shit-eating grin brought you back to reality.

You cleared your throat. “Yes. I’m fine.”

Rhys’s smile persisted, the bastard clearly enjoying this.

“Come to think of it, I really need to head home to Nesta. You need to go too, don’t you Rhys?”

“Oh, yes. Look at the time,” Rhys said, making no move to look at the time.

You glared, sensing a conspiracy at hand. “What are you two bats—”

“So,” Cassian cut you off. “You’re coming to Solstice, right?”

“I—yes.”

Cassian squinted, unconvinced.

You laughed. “Yeah, I’ll be there. But what’s going—”

“You’d better be,” Rhys supplemented.

“Is that a command?” you laughed.

“Now it is,” he smiled devilishly.

Cassian suddenly grinned at something behind you. You sensed who it was.

Azriel was here.

“Hey, Az,” Rhys said casually, hands in his pockets.

“Is everything okay?” Azriel asked. “I winnowed in as fast as I could.”

“Everything’s fine. False alarm.” Rhys winked at you. You glared, then turned to finally face Azriel.

You stared abashedly at him. His assessing gaze swept down your figure and back up, looking for whatever harm Rhys must’ve told him about mind-to-mind. When his eyes met your gaze, you didn’t miss the tension in his jaw.

You knew exactly where his mind went because that’s where yours had been dwelling previously. Where it often wandered. Your face burned.

“Azriel, would you be a dear and walk sweet Y/N home?” Rhys drawled from behind you.

“I—yes, of course,” Azriel answered.

You turned to take in your traitorous High Lord. “Perfect. All settled, then. You two have just a splendid evening.” One final wink before the pair shot to the sky, grinning like fiends.

You turned back to face your companion.

“Azriel,” you breathed.

“Y/N. Are you alright?”

No. “Yes. I—yes, I’m fine. I don’t know what Rhys told you.”

His eyes glinted. “He said you needed me.”

“Oh.” You shifted on your feet like you could squirm away from the truth in those words. Azriel looked healthier than the last you saw him. “How are you?” you tried.

“I’m doing okay.”

You nodded. The tension was stifling.

“What about you?”

“I’m good,” you said.

Another beat of silence. “You look well,” he said.

You laughed genuinely. “I think we’re beyond dishonesty.”

The knowing glint in his eyes made you blush. “Okay, fine,” he indulged. “You’ve seen better days.”

You laughed again, relaxing. “Don’t enjoy it too much.”

He shook his head. “Never.” He swallowed. “Let me walk you home, yeah?”

Something tugged at your chest. You allowed yourself the small amnesty. “Okay.”

Silence befell as you walked side by side, but the politeness of the encounter was too strange to ignore. You didn’t know how to act, what was too comfortable now that you’ve shared such a vulnerability with him, confessions and intimacy that only he and you knew about. It’d been not only a physical release but also an emotional one from the anger you’d used as shields; a resentment you’ve outgrown.

“Azriel?”

“Yes?”

Baby steps. “How’d you know I was published?”

He smiled mischievously. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Tell me.”

He didn’t say anything, making you scoff and roll your eyes. So insufferable.

“You got something you’d like to say?”

Yes. “Nope.”

“Yeah? Because you seem like you’re holding back.”

Always. “Nothing.”

“You sure?”

It should’ve been us. “I’m sure.”

“If you say so,” he still smiled.

A comfortable hush fell. Perhaps honesty was the best approach while you were in this…purgatory with him.

“Azriel?”

“Yeah?” he said, endlessly patient with you, relishing his name on your lips like a prayer.

I miss you. You swallowed. “Is this how it’s gonna be between us forever?”

“I don’t know,” he answered thoughtfully.

You walked in silence for another block before you came up on the Townhouse street.

“You wanna know something?” he asked, halting his stride. You stopped walking, facing him.

“What?”

He gave a soft smile. “I’ve, uh—I’ve been working on myself.”

“How so?”

“I started seeing the counsellor that works with the priestesses.”

A pleasant shock warmed you. “Is that right?”

“Yes.”

You couldn’t stop the words that came next. “Wow. I’m proud of you.”

Fondness softened his eyes. “Thank you.”

You offered back the same small smile. You both stared at each other, trying to make the moment last.

“Okay,” you said, taking a step back. “I’ll, uh, see you around, then. Thank you for walking me home.”

“Of course,” he inclined his head, staying where he was on the sidewalk.

Before you turned to walk the final stretch home, you considered your next words. “Az.”

“Yes, angel.”

“I don’t—um, I don’t want it to be weird between us.”

The expectant look widening his eyes squeezed your heart.

“Maybe—maybe we can be friends again,” you said quietly. Maybe we can be okay. Speaking the words reopened the wound in your chest.

You hadn’t allowed yourself to think those words before, let alone hope to have him at that capacity again. You didn’t know what you expected him to say, hugging your stomach. Azriel frowned, eyes searching yours. “I don’t know if…I can do that.”

His words stunned you. “You can’t?”

“I mean—I don’t know if it’ll ever be honest,” he said gently. “I don’t know if I can go back.”

You stared wide-eyed, trying to keep the pain contained, lost for words. It’s always rejection with him.

Azriel’s brows pinched at your vulnerability, at your visible pain. “You’re breaking my heart.”

You frowned. Why was every interaction with him a pendulum swing from one extreme emotion to another? Why does it have to be this hard? He watched as tears welled in your eyes, chin trembling.

“Hey, hey, none of that.” He finally broke the physical barrier between you two, stepping forward and gently cradling your face in his hands, wiping your tears as they fell. You wanted nothing more than to envelop into his arms, but you couldn’t, so you settled for his wrists. “I’m sorry,” he spoke soothingly. “I’ll be your friend, angel.”

“It’s hard, Az,” you hiccupped. You eyes fell shut, savouring his warmth.

“I know,” he breathed. “We’ll be okay.”

“You promise?”

“I promise.”

You tried schooling your emotions. He didn’t move, letting you take your time until the tears finally abated. No one had such a hold over your emotions as he did, but you gladly surrendered that claim. One final shuddering breath calmed you down. You then gently lowered his hands from your face, regretfully releasing his wrists.

You took him in, getting your fill. Friends again, you reminded yourself. Friends don’t yearn.

“I’m sorry,” he repeated.

You shook your head. “It’s okay. Maybe I… who knows.”

He squinted, tilting his head. “What does that mean?”

You shrugged, feeling a weight lift off your chest. “I don’t know just yet. We’ll see.”

“Hmm,” he mused. “Sounds hopeful.”

You couldn’t help the laugh that escaped you. “I’ll see you around, Azriel.”

He just gave a small smile, inclining his head and winnowing away.

Despite the heaviness of the interaction, you felt clear-headed. Felt the stifled flame of inspiration alight again at the hands of your Illyrian muse.

When you made it inside, you found yourself writing for the first time in months.

iii. Star crossed lovers

Desire in corporeal form walking streets when it should be soaring home to you. You’ve brought my soul knocking, a poltergeist rattling between ribs, stardust in a skeleton. You are mine and I am yours.

Still, I listen. Still, I hurt. Still, I hope.

Winter

You lounged on the couch in the House of Wind watching your family interact, satiated as your drink warmed you up inside. Despite asking you to come, everyone had been pleasantly surprised when you arrived. It’d taken a few days to convince yourself to go, but in the new spirit of taking care of yourself, you’d decided to make an appearance.

It’d been both a disappointment and a relief discovering Azriel’s absence. He’s always away these days, Cassian had murmured to you when he saw you silently scouting the room.

Mor smiled at you from where she sat next to you. “I’m really happy you came.”

You smiled back. “I’m happy I came too. I missed you all.”

“You’re glowing,” she said, eyes bright.

“I’ve been… healing,” you blushed sheepishly.

Mor nodded in understanding. “I’m glad I get to have my friend back,” she squeezed your shoulder.

It was late into the night when things quieted down and sleep began overtaking your friends. You relished in the peace after a year of loneliness and self-imposed isolation. As Rhys took Feyre’s hand and began leading her away, Feyre turned to you. “Stay the night, Y/N. Cassian’s too drunk to fly you back to the Townhouse.”

You laughed.

“Your room’s all ready,” Rhys added.

“Okay,” you agreed. Everyone retired one by one, then you finally ventured up to your old room. You took your time, relishing the feeling of being back at the House, how natural it felt to be amongst your loved ones.

When you made it back into your room, you breathed in the woodsy smell, watching the snowfall outside. The longest night of the year; that'd been how the past months of hurting felt like, but now the darkness didn’t seem so hopeless. Baby steps.

You crossed the threshold. True to Rhys’s word, the room was as you’d last seen it. You took in the familiar space—

There was a gift placed on your bed.

You approached it. A package beautifully wrapped in brown paper. Your heart raced, knowing who’d take the time to do something this intimate despite the lack of writing attaching it to a person. You unwrapped it.

Inside was a vintage leather-bound writing journal. The leather was embossed with your name; an artistic print encircled three mountains, a star above each mountain and the Sidra below. Velaris.

Opening it, your heart swelled upon finding the note on the first page.

Beloved beyond measure

In every language. Every lifetime.

I hear the silent words you speak.

Yours truly. Yours always.

You reread the words over and over, letting them warm you inside. Placing the gift on your nightstand, you reached for your own secret package that you’d intended for Azriel. You padded through the corridor to his room, faelight in hand to light the way. At his door, you drew a deep breath. Everything felt new and old at the same time. Before you could turn the doorknob, you paused; though no sound could be heard from within, shadows seeped out from beneath the door, drifting gently around your ankles.

It was too late to turn back when the doorknob turned, and the door opened.

“Oh,” you breathed. “Azriel.”

“Y/N.”

“I was just—I was going to leave your gift inside,” you said shyly, breaking his gaze. You shifted on your feet. “Thank you for the gift, by the way. It was—thank you.”

When you looked back up into his eyes, he was smiling fondly. “Would you like to come in?” he asked lowly.

You held his gaze for a moment, then nodded. He stepped aside, allowing you to pass by him and enter his dimly lit room. As he closed the door behind you, memories of the last time you’d been in a room alone flashed before your eyes. Know that I love you, Y/N. Always. Azriel came to stand before you once more. You extended your wrapped gift to him, unsure what words to say.

Azriel unwrapped the gift. He beheld the hardcover book titled Star Crossed. His eyes flashed to yours.

“It’s, um, a limited-edition book I published. For you.”

“For me?”

You nodded. “It’s…the only copy.”

His face softened, brows turning up. The smile that overtook his face was devastating. He opened the cover to find the last of your messages in the dedication.

iv. Star crossed lovers

I surrender to this truth til the stars wink out and the shadows slumber. In the place between dreams and consciousness, I hear the answer. You are mine and I am yours.

To whatever end.

“Read it later,” you said sheepishly, closing it before he got the chance. You weren’t prepared to face the vulnerability that came with seeing him read your confession.

“Okay,” he smiled sweetly in understanding. You were still in your dress from the evening. Az was in a plain black t-shirt and pants.

“You didn’t come to solstice,” you said.

He nodded. “I heard Cass say you might be coming. I didn’t want you to feel uncomfortable.”

You frowned. “I’m not uncomfortable around you, Az.”

He shrugged, smiling. “I wasn’t certain.” His eyes raked down your figure. “You look really healthy.”

You nodded, smiling. “The last time I saw you, you said you began taking better care of yourself.”

He nodded, urging you on.

“I started doing the same,” you finished.

Azriel’s lovely smile deepened. “I’m glad to hear that, Y/N. I’m proud of you.”

“Stop stealing my lines.”

He chuckled. “You copied me.”

“How?” you laughed.

“Trying to leave a gift in my room like I did with yours.”

“Whatever, Az.”

He still smiled. “But I am proud of you.”

Your heart swelled. “Thank you.” A beat of silence underneath his intense gaze. “How’s the counselling going?”

“It’s good.” He cleared his throat. “I receive love in abundance. I deserve fulfilling relationships. Real love starts with me,” he deadpanned.

You stared blankly. “I…sorry, what?”

He grinned. “I’m kidding. But it is good. It’s been really helpful actually. Those are affirmations I’m supposed to believe.”

You returned his smile. “Good. Because they’re all true.”

The loaded look he gave you made you blush. He huffed a laugh. The two of you were still standing near his door. A distinct feeling of juvenility made you bite back a smile, like adolescents navigating new territory. You found Azriel watching you fondly, pink staining his high cheekbones. “Maybe we should sit,” he said nodding to the armchairs.

“Will you also serve me tea?” you trailed his hulking form.

“I’ll give you whatever you want,” he said, comfortably stretching his long legs before him.

“Good. I’d like the Dead Trove please.”

He laughed richly. “Right. No problem at all.”

“Cass told me you’re away most of the time these days,” you said more seriously.

Azriel nodded. “Being busy prevents ruminating thoughts.”

“Ah, yes.” Though the thought of him needing distractions from being in his head stung.

His throat bobbed. “I heard you’re getting married.”

You recognized his carefully crafted mask of stoicism. You couldn’t help your small smile. “Actually, I, um, I left him.”

Azriel’s face lit up, making your heart swell. “Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Well.” He broke out into a grin, making you laugh at his unabashed reaction.

Speaking of which—“Az, why didn’t you tell me you’d broken up with your girlfriend?”

His smile faded. “I didn’t want you to think I felt like my breakup obligated you to do the same. I didn’t want you to think I felt…owed anything.” He took a deep breath. “It was also because I felt like I deserved the…feelings I had while you were with someone else for hurting you.”

You frowned. “What feelings.”

He smiled grimly. “Pain. I learned that I had self-sabotaging tendencies and I self inflict punishments on myself. I’m working through all that.”

His honesty was deeply touching as it was painful. “You don’t deserve pain or punishment, Az,” you said quietly.

“I’m learning that now,” he said.

You took a deep breath. “Well. It seems our foursome’s down to two.”

Azriel laughed. “Looks like it’s just you and me, now.”

You smiled. “Just you and me.”

As you took each other in contently, the words he wrote in his gift to you renewed your courage. Beloved beyond measure. You took a deep breath. “What you said to me the last time I saw you…”

“I said a lot of things,” his mouth tipped up cheekily.

You held his gaze, steeling your nerves. “You said you…loved me.” In this life and all the rest, his words echoed.

“What about it?” he still smiled, unphased like he was discussing the weather.

“Do you…do you still feel that way?”

His smile faded, gaze intense. “Yes, Y/N. I do.”

Your throat tightened. “You love me?”

“I love you.” Azriel stood and walked over to where you remained seated, your hands clasped tightly in your lap. You tipped your head back to look up at him as tears pooled in your eyes. He cupped your face in his hands, looking down at you with such softness it broke your heart. “I missed you so much, pretty girl.”

You turned your face to place kisses into the palm of his hand, cradling his hands with your own. “I missed you too, Az,” you rasped. He tugged you to stand, and you complied. He didn’t step back, so you were flush with his body, bracing your hands on his chest. His hands bracketed your waist, pulling you even closer to his torso. You stared into his face, savouring the closeness, the openness; you traced your fingers over his brow bone, his cheeks, the bridge of his nose, his mouth.

He was living art.

You began shaking. “Azriel,” you breathed.

“Yes, angel.”

“I love you too,” you whispered with all your courage.

Relief pulled his brows. His gaze travelled all over your face, breath fanning your cheeks as he leaned in closer. Too slowly. You stood on your tiptoes and closed the distance, kissing him. Azriel immediately held your head and kissed you deeper, making your limbs go slack. His soft mouth moved with yours, and your hands roamed through his hair, neck, back, shoulders—unable to get enough of him. He only broke off to gasp for air, but you remained breathless despite the lungful you heaved in. Gone was any trace of his laidback saunter and charisma from before. His eyes were wild, hair tousled from your hands, and he leaned forward like you were oxygen.

He kissed you again, hands now travelling down your form. When they reached your hips, you tugged on his shoulders. He understood your cue, cupping the backs of your thighs and hoisting you up as you wrapped your legs around his trim waist. You kept kissing him as he walked over to his bed.

Despite the emotional release, he slowed down, placing you onto his bed with such gentleness it nearly tightened your throat again. You scooted back on his bed, giving him space to move closer. He stopped when you were knee-to-knee. “I know that was…a lot,” he rasped. You knew he was referring to the emotional intimacy rather than the physical. “We don’t have to do anything further if you don’t want to.”

You shook your head. “Az, I want you.”

He searched your eyes for any hesitation. “You’re sure?”

“Yes.”

He exhaled in relief, kissing you again. You tugged on the hem of his shirt; he helped take it off, then reached for your hem, tugging it up. You undressed each other until you both remained in your undergarments. Azriel placed his hands on your hips, tracing them up your form. You shuddered at the feeling of his hands on your body, letting the warmth in your lower belly grow. He tugged you to him, embracing you tightly. His hot skin on yours eddied every thought in your head. You relaxed in his hold, breathing hard as your desire grew and grew. He began kissing your shoulder to your neck, undoing your chest binding til you were bare. He leaned forward, laying you down. He rose, sitting between your legs and looked down at you, marveling at the sight of you on his bed. “You’re so beautiful,” he said, voice guttural.

“You’re beautiful, Azriel.”

He shook his head, taking off his underwear. You began shaking again, in desire and anticipation. He placed his hands on either side of you and leaned forward, cushioning his hips against yours. You gasped at the sensation of his length on your clothed core. He ground himself into you, drawing keens from you into his mouth.

“Please,” you whimpered when he didn’t cease. You matched his movements, needing more. You reached down and tugged your underwear down yourself. He paused his movements, watching you bare yourself to him. He reached down to touch you, but you stopped his hand. “Please,” you breathed again. “I need to feel you.”

He inhaled the scent of your arousal, and you noted a tremor in his arms. “You’re sure?” he rasped. You nodded, releasing his hand. He reached down to guide himself in. As his length teased your entrance, his gaze returned to study your face. You only nodded, encouraging him. He began entering you, inch by aching inch.

The stretch of his size stung.

When he bottomed out, he paused, letting you adjust. He ran his hands over your breasts, teasing your nipples and kissing you until your hips jerked forward. Then he pulled back, staring into your eyes once more. “You are mine,” he rasped, “and I am yours.”

“All yours,” you whimpered. “I’m all yours, Azriel.”

With that, he began withdrawing and thrusting, bit by bit. Every roll of his hips sent pleasure rippling through you, drawing out moans and whimpers. You wrapped your legs around his waist, giving him even deeper access. You stopped breathing, silenced and overwhelmed by the bliss, staring at him in awe.

“Breathe for me,” he commanded. Your sharp inhale was nearly a sob. You were already nearing the edge. He sped up his motion as your breathing grew shallower and shallower, trembling around him. “Let go,” he breathed. “Let go, angel.”

With that you came crashing; wave after wave of ecstasy washed through your body. He didn’t relent, working you through it as you panted. It was pleasure like you’d never known. You were utterly helpless in his arms, but the safest you’d ever felt. As you came down from your high, he slowed his movements, giving you reprieve as you caught your breath.

He was still nestled deep inside you as you pulsated around him. “More,” you rasped. He only kissed you, so you reached a shaking hand behind his head to his wing and began stroking the inner erogenous area. He shuddered, his hips reflexively snapping forward, making you cry out. You continued your ministrations, stroking back and forth until Azriel was the one heaving breaths.

He moved inside you at a punishing pace, his rhythm thrown off by his overwhelming pleasure. His groans reverberated through your torso, flush with his. You neared the edge of release again. He kissed you as you tightened around him. “That’s it,” he breathed shakily into your mouth.

You tried to continue stroking his wing but your arm went slack as release tore through you a second time. He drew cries out of you as you finished but all you could hear was his shaky breathing in your ear and growls of approval. A few final thrusts and you felt him release into you as well, felt him exhale in relief and lower himself and lay his weight upon you.

You took your time collecting yourselves, breathing steadily. When he finally rose and pulled out of you, you shuddered. He cupped your face tenderly and searched your eyes. “Are you alright?”

You nodded, satiated. “Yes. You were perfect.”

He left and returned to clean you up and you let him, basking in his attentive nature and loving care. When he finished, you opened your arms to him, relishing in the sleepy smile that overtook his face as he accepted your invitation. He lay his head onto your chest, the weight of him anchoring you to reality. You could’ve sworn something deep inside snapped as everything fell into place with Azriel. He suddenly flinched but didn’t say anything, only tightening his hold on you as you were lulled slowly to rest. The love you felt for him beat in your chest like a sentient thing, and it echoed beyond.

“So I take it we’re not just friends anymore,” Azriel murmured into your chest. You laughed, wringing your arms around his shoulders, tugging him impossibly closer.

“You’re my love,” you breathed.

“I like the sound of that,” he whispered.

“What happens now?”

A steady stream of comfort and affection crept through you on a tether as you slowly submerged into unconsciousness, but you heard him like you heard all the silent words he spoke. “We’ll figure it all out, angel. We got all the time in the world.”

taglist:

@iimisty-a @feyretopia @cityofidek @cullenswife @reiincarnatiion @sfhsgrad-blog @answer-the-sirens @mrstangerinejohnson @marigold-morelli @courtofjurdan @azriels-mate123 @punishers-girl @marina468 @slvtherinseeker @owllover123 @quill-and-the-curse @hyacinthoideshispanica

a/n: thank you sm for sticking around for part 2!! Ily guys sm I hope you enjoyed this.

#azriel x reader #azriel shadowsinger #azriel spymaster #azriel smut #azriel fanfic #acotar fanfiction #azriel #azriel/reader #azriel fanfiction #azriel angst #azrielhours #cassian

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sanjoongie · 10 months

Text

𐊇𝒆𝞪r𝗹𝟈𝘴𝔰 𝘊𝒽𝒶𝛐ꜱ

🏴‍☠️A/N: this is in retaliation to space pirate hwa you threw at me and all the other 'suffer with topaz' tags missy @smallfrye 🏴‍☠️Pairing: Jung Wooyoung x Reader (f) 🏴‍☠️Au: pirate au, ghost au, historical au 🏴‍☠️Genre: smut, angst 🏴‍☠️Trope: strangers to lovers 🏴‍☠️Warnings: mentions of death, fire, strangulation > kinks: fingering (f), dom!wooyoung, sub!reader, temperature play? (woo is a cold ghost, you're a hot human), penetrative sex without a barrier, slight begging kink, slight praise kink 🏴‍☠️Rated: 18+, MDNI 🏴‍☠️Word count: 1,750 🏴‍☠️Summary: You purchase a one way ticket across the Atlantic ocean on a refitted ship to flee the ghosts of your past, only to encounter a new ghost, one who isn't looking to torture you but give you pleasure

You woke up to your entire cabin shaking. You had no idea how, since every item was nailed down on this passenger ship, but it was like your ship was being sucked into a maelstrom and being struck by lightning at the same time. Except, you were calm. Your basin was thrown across the room and smashed next to your head and still you didn't flinch.

You sat up and wrapped the blankets around you instinctively. It was chaos reincarnated but you did not hear screams from outside of your room. It was completely, oddly, possible that this was only happening in your room. It stopped just as suddenly as it started and when you blinked, everything was back in place like nothing ever happened.

When you woke up the next morning, you listened to the other passengers talk about a good night’s sleep with the lull of the ship rocking them. No one complained about a rocky sleep or a storm. You're not exactly sure what’s going on but you believe you’re being targeted.

Each night you suffer through the same crazy night but sometimes the scenes change. You got chaos, you got carnage, you got terrifying noises that would keep any sane person up. You woke up to observe your surroundings, and to ensure your survival, but you were not shaken by what you watched happen within your cabin. You had been through worse…

The flames lick up the plush curtains, creating otherworldly colors. The hands around your throat tighten and tighten, despite how you claw at them. The light brown eyes above you swirl with insanity. “You and me forever, my love.”

A wisp of dust and light pushed through the door to your cabin and a man walked through it. Well, clearly he wasn’t a man considering the lines around him were fuzzy and unsolid, but he took the form of a man. His ruffled shirt, tight pants and high boots said he was not of the current world but the authority in his step said he was used to giving orders and them being followed.

“Explain to me why you never scream no matter what I do to haunt you?!” The man demanded, fussing with the ruffles at his wrist. He snapped his fingers and the entire room dripped of blood, as if a massacre had occurred while you slept. You stared at him with an even gaze and he rolled his eyes. “This is what I’m talking about! You’re supposed to be scared!”

“I have once lived a hell worse than this,” You informed him.

Unimpressed eyes scanned over your form. With his tongue between his lips in contemplation, his eyes swept over the curve of your bare shoulder, down to where you held your sheets to modestly cover your chest. “What woman dare sleep in the nude aboard my ship?”

You tilted your head. “Your ship?”

“I am the captain!” The man announced, dramatically sweeping his arms out wide. “Or, I was. Until my stupid crew mutinied and gave themselves up to the navy in hopes of a pardon. They killed me in my own room, you know?” His eyes narrowed down at you. “This room.”

“Oh,” You murmured, “You’re a ghost.”

The man sighed. “A ghost? I am THE Jung Wooyoung, Fearless Chaos, the one who discovered the--” Wooyoung’s tirade stopped as you laid back down and turned your back to him. “Wait a minute, you’re going back to sleep?”

“If you’re not going to throw my things around the room, I’d like to sleep, thank you,” You responded a-matter-of-factly.

The heeled boots of the once-captain clicked across the well-worn wood floor as Wooyoung moved from the door to your bed--his bed. His cold hand held your shoulder and turned your body to make you lie on your back. “You are an intriguing woman,” He muttered to himself.

You stared up at him patiently, waiting for his next move. Goosebumps covered your skin at his ghostly touch. Wooyoung’s eyes swept over the arch of your eyebrows and the slump of your nose and your lips and he felt something he hadn't felt in perhaps decades since he was killed: lust. He wanted to break your mask and make you show something other than cool disregard for him. He wanted you to fall apart from his touches.

“I am not scared of you,” You said with the slightest tilt of your chin. “Do your worst.”

Wooyoung whipped the blankets off your form and smirked in delight to find your entire body naked underneath. His eyes were eager to discover more of your delightful body. His cool hands traced a wonderful pattern on your skin, the texture unlike anything he has seen before… you winced as he did so, but it was not a wince of pain.

“I am not scared either,” Wooyoung admitted quietly. In fact, his fingers travel past the burn marks and move towards the junction of your thighs.

Your eyes snapped to his face, almost searching for a mocking quality to it, but there was none to find. Wooyoung has appreciated your burns from that horrible night but he’d much rather provide you pleasure than give you pain. That was a first.

“Yeosang!” You pleaded with a strangled voice. Your fingers look for purchase to pull away his hands from your throat but he’s too strong.

The flames of the fire roaring around you and the flames of lunacy in your beloved's eyes compete with each other. “Don’t fight it,” He murmured in a quiet voice, “Let us enter the afterlife together, my love.”

Wooyoung patiently spread your legs, a hand pushing your thighs apart so that he could have easier access to your cunt. He licked his lips in anticipation. He wished he could taste what was there but at the very least, he could ease the frown between your eyebrows.

You didn't look at Wooyoung but you did tilt your hips in a silent offering. Wooyoung dipped his fingers to the juncture of your thighs and you whined pitifully. Wooyoung swirled his finger, cold against the heat of your pussy, in the slick that gathered there. “So wet,” He observed, before pinching your clit with his other hand.

The captain ghost played your body like a fiddle. With your clit between his thumb and forefinger, he pinched and rubbed the sensitive flesh there, all the while fucking your cunt with his middle and ring finger of his other hand. The harsh line of pain and pleasure had you floating, small whimpers escaping your lips as Wooyoung gave you something you had not experienced in months.

“Please…” You panted, bucking your hips to meet Wooyoung’s thrusts of his fingers, “More.”

Wooyoung halted both of his hands, pressing one hand to your knee as he turned around to face you. “What else could a miserable ghost of a captain give a lady like you?” His words are gentlemanly but his voice is low and gravelly and sends a shiver down your spine.

You wetted your lips carefully. “Your cock,” you whispered.

“You women are all the same,” Wooyoung chuckled, “Go on, precious, get on your hands and knees for me. Prepare yourself for my cock.”

Your body almost moved on its own, offering your ass to the ghost captain like you were all his. “Fuck me, Wooyoung,” You whined.

Yeosang, your dead husband, who had set fire to your mansion and almost killed you in the process, slowly began to fade to the far recesses of your mind. The ghost of him haunted you during the day and during the night. But the minute that Wooyoung pushed and grunted, and squeezed his way into your cunt, he dismissed the mental ghost of yours. His cold fingers dug into your hips, the slap of his thighs against your ass a welcome relief to the hotness of your body. The more cold reality Wooyoung brought to you, the further away your demons were driven.

“Such a divine creature,” Wooyoung praised you. He raised your body so it was flush with his; his chest to your back. His fingers found the burn marks on your body and he traced them with awe. Wooyoung could find no flaw in you, especially the way your cunt took his thrusts.

“Wooyoung,” You whispered as he kissed the nape of your neck.

“I can give you the release you need,” Wooyoung promised, tongue sweeping along the skin behind your ear before carefully taking the lobe of your ear between his teeth.

Wooyoung can’t come, of course, he’s a ghost, but he swore it was as if his dick was alive for you. He didn’t care if he couldn't truly feel your pussy walls clenching down on him. He could hear the moans dropping from your lips and he believed he had discovered his newfound purpose in his afterlife. “I’ll take over this ship again. I’ll make it a ghost ship with a ghost crew. And you will be my figurehead, the lady of the ship. I will bring you untold pleasure and steal all the treasure in the seven seas to drape along your body. And you will remain in my cabin, in my bed, with my head between your legs, my body for your satisfaction.” Wooyoung promised to lay the world at your feet, and after what you had endured, you found that perhaps you’d rather someone burn the world down for you then burn your world down around you.

Wooyoung continued his tirade, fucking you so well, the drag of his cock against your walls pushing you towards a release you had not known you so desperately needed.

“I'll revive the pirate era and I'll make you the queen of the pirates and all will know you for the way you are spoiled. No one would dare look at you in fear I would cut them down.” Your cries were starting to crescendo, so Wooyoung slipped his finger between your outer lips and circled your clit. “I will give you the world for simply making me feel alive again,” Wooyoung whispered almost like a prayer in thanks.

You came, and hard, finally screaming for Wooyoung. He clamped a chilly hand over your mouth so as to not alert anyone of your carnal affairs in his cabin. That secret could come out later, but not before he attempted to lick your cunt and see if he couldn't help that haunted look in your eyes leave permanently.

Special thanks once again to @starlitmark for helping me make such pretty pretty posts for my revenge month!

#kvanity #kwritersworldnet #pirateeznet #cultofdionysusnet #mfu-net #revember=revenge+november #ateez smut #jung wooyoung smut #atz smut #wooyoung smut #jung wooyoung x reader #ateez x reader #topaz's work #ღatz

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wangxianficfinder · 1 year

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Fic Finder

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1. Hello...how are you. I'm looking for two fix

a) I don't know if it will make sense. I think it was a time travel fanfiction and wei ying was doing a mock night hunt with the juniors and every time jiang cheng and wei ying met will chose a group for themselves and do this mock night hunting.

b) Lan Zhan was hit with an isolation curse. He first lost his hearing then sight and eventually feelings but wei ying still found a way to commicate with him @hewhomustnotbenamed24

1A)

FOUND? And Time Is But a Paper Moon by sami (M, 139k, WangXian, XiChengQing, Time Travel, Fix-It, Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Healing, Mental Health Issues, PTSD, Hurt/Comfort, Depression, BAMF WWX, BAMF JC, BAMF LWJ, BAMF JYL, Getting Together)

1B)

FOUND? shadows in the sun rise by Yuu_chi ( E, 24k, WangXian, Post-Canon, Night hunts, Curses, Intimacy, Light Angst with a Happy Ending)

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2. hi wonderful people! i've never done this before so hopefully i'm doing it right. i am very desperate to find this fic because it's haunting my brain!! i remember wei ying gets encased in some sort of crystal in jinlintai during jin ling's one month celebration or near that time and is kept hidden there. there was this one part where someone tried to break it and they were attacked by resentful energy? i'm pretty sure it was an everybody lives fic and it was quite long, if that helps! thanks! <;3 @circussocks

FOUND! laughing shadow by ich_bin_ein_stern (M, 32k, WangXian, Temporary Character Death, Blood Magic, Misunderstandings, Found Family, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies, Canon Divergence)

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3. Hello

There is this fic i read some time ago

Wwx took the curse off a ghost. the curse said you won't be able to see the ppl who have very strong feelings about you

Wwx thinks it's hate and is very heartbroken when he can't see anyone, and starts spiraling and explaining to himself why ppl hate him

FOUND? See Me, Feel Me (Listening to You) by Ghost_Honey (T, 29k, WangXian, POV WWX, WWX Needs a Hug, WWX’s Abyssmal Self-Esteem, Emotional Healing, Angst, The Juniors love their Senior Wei, Curses, WWX is an Unreliable Narrator, JC & WWX Reconciliation, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Platonic Cuddling)

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4. I'm looking for a modern AU meet-cute where single dad WWX goes to a party at JYL + JXY's place (I think he gives JYL an ink painting for her birthday). Wen Chao hits on him and WWX needs an escape. He sees LWJ looking at a painting and pretends they're married, and LWJ immediately rolls with it to play the protective husband. They're smitten and leave together. LWJ makes pancakes the next morning and wins over A-Yuan. The fic is under 10k, I think, and probably E-rated for smut. Thanks so much!

FOUND! feel it so strong (we don’t even have to say goodbye) by curiositea (E, 6k, wangxian, Modern Setting, Strangers to Lovers, Love at First Sight, Single Parent WWX, Getting Together, Happy Ending, Fluff and Smut, Explicit Sexual Content, Rimming, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Underprep, LWJ's Canonically Huge Cock, WC Being an Asshole, Fake/Pretend Relationship) except the Ink Painting for Yanli's birthday is from a different fic, the best of you by Sysrae

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5. hi! I'm finding this fic on ao3 where Wei Wuxian is from a minor sect. I think he was from Tianshan He (the clan that JGY and XY murdered in Villaneous Friends but I'm not very sure. The plot was starting from the Wen Discussion Conference I think ? Everyone is surprised to see a minor clan get the top spots because of Wei Wuxian, and take keen interest in him @wutheringskies

FOUND! every world, every universe by glitteringmoonlight (T, 5k, wangxian, HS & WWX, Canon Divergence, WWX is in Tingshan He, WWX Isn't Adopted by the Jiāngs, Fix-It of Sorts, Genius WWX, WIP) WWX is the Tingshen He head disciple who surprised everyone by winning the Wen archery tournament

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6. im looking for a fic but all i can remember is that after lan xichen caused wwx's death (killed him? kept lwj frok saving him? led a siege) lan wangji challenged him to a fight. for years after lxc refused to talk about his brother at conferences and i think? lwj left the cultivation world behind or went into hiding with ayuan? any help appreciated 🙏🏾 @onlyegret

Not FOUND! 💖 demons run when a good man goes to war by Miranda_Aurelia (T, 20k, wangxian, LWJ & NHS, JYL/JZX, canon divergence, angst w happy ending, NHS & LWJ friendship, not JGY friendly, dark LWJ, revenge, (presumed) major character death, not LXC friendly) might be demons run when a good man goes to war. if not, you may enjoy it anyway.

FOUND! Skin Tight by liverbiver9 (M, 28k, WangXian, Trans Female WWX, Gender Changes, Canon Divergence, Fix-It of Sorts, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies, Transphobia, implied/mentioned but not super explicit, mentioned hate crimes, Sentient Burial Mounds, Chronic Pain, Major Character Injury, Permanent Injury, Angst with a Happy Ending, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Isolation, Found Family, but they're ghosts!, Queer Themes, Queer Families, Sunshot Campaign, Post-Sunshot Campaign, Pining, Self-Worth Issues, YLLZ WWX, Hurt WWX, Genius WWX, Misunderstandings, Bittersweet Ending, Ambiguous/Open Ending, kind of a happy ending?, JC Fucks Up, Misgendering, deadnaming, Implied Transphobia, depends on how you look at it tbh, Canon Temporary Character Death, Self-Sacrifice, Epistolary, WWX Creates a Sect | Yílíng Wèi Sect, but posthumously, rating for body horror and mature themes, not sexually explicit) this one has a scene like that near the end!

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7. hi! i'd love help finding a fairly popular (?) time travel fic that's escaping my searching ability somehow... it's a lil short, from at least a year ago. post-siege lwj is sent back to sunshot, and wants to do better by wwx, but wwx is already friendlier to him, and takes him flying to where he's hidden the wens. they play music to a-yuan, and then! (spoiler haha) it turns out to be post-canon wwx <3 idk why i can't find it, so thank you!

FOUND! More than a Dream of You by VoidRune (T, 8k, wangxian, Canon Divergence, Time Travel Fix-It, Hurt/Comfort, LWJ centric, Pining, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Talks of Demonic Cultivation)

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8. Hi, you seem like you know things and I have exhausted myself trying to find this fic.

It’s about Wei Ying, his siblings and the Wen siblings living in a house together, modern era, while he renovates it little by little. He is actually a tattoo artist but isn’t working atm. Then Lan Zhan moves in and stays in Yanli’s room with her so he assumes that he is Yanli’s bf but never opens his mouth to ask. Lan Zhan and Yanli are actually best friends and while Wei Ying and Lan Zhan instantly click he tries to push Lan Zhan away because he thinks he is dating his sister. I vividly remember this fic but no matter what tag combos I try, I can’t find it. If you can find it you’d be my heroes :) Lan Zhan also wears skirts here which is always a bonus.

FOUND? could be Once Upon a Place by zeldasayre (E, 80k, WangXian, House restoration, Falling In Love, Misunderstandings, Enemies to Lovers, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Bisexual WWX, Trans Male WWX, Gay LWJ, JYL & LWJ Friendship, Modern AU, Set somewhere in America, Tattoo Artist WWX, Librarian LWJ, Mutual Pining, Angst with a Happy Ending, Slow Burn, Domestic) I looked it up by the tattoo artist Wei ying tag, I haven't read it tho

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9. It's a modern-day college AU - Wei Wuxian has a roommate who is very confused why he keeps rhapsodizing about someone named Long John (as the roommate hears it)

FOUND? Long John by hasu (G, 3k, wangxian, modern, Crack Fluff, POV Outsider, College/University au)

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10. hi I'm looking for a modern au where lwj is kidnapped by the wen and wwx is being forced to work for them but they realize they're soulmates(?) and i think they might have memories of their past lives. wwx has to help the wen cuz jyl and jc are being held hostage. please and thanks 🙏🏾 @onlyegret

FOUND! in another life by dogear (M, 33k, WIP, WangXian, Past Lives, Enemies to Lovers, WWX POV)

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11. I can’t find this fic and it’s driving me crazy! It was a modern college au, and lwj brought wwx back to his family ranch for break. The premise was that wwx stole lwjs hat to wear, and everyone was giving them looks because there’s a saying like ‘wear the hat, ride the cowboy.’ There’s a scene where lwj literally grabs a bull by the horns and wrestles it to protect wwx. In the end lwj tells wwx about the saying and they fuck. I think this fic might be hidden/deleted but I can’t be sure? Even a link for the way back machine would be amazing. Thank you!! (I know exactly which fic this is but I cannot find it either :( I hope it wasn't deleted - Mod C) @adeametea

FOUND? 11 on recent FicFinder might be Local Cowboy Goes To Town (On A Poor Defenseless Twink) by Pancho. Unfortunately, Pancho's works are currently hidden due to AI scrapping

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12. Hello! I’m looking for a fic I read a while back where Wei Wuxian was resurrected by Qin Su, finds out that he is pregnant by Jim Guangyao, and tricks Lan Xichen into thinking that the child is his. I’ve been searching everywhere for this fic but I can’t seem to find it!

FOUND? So You Want to Start a War by JaenysBloodcourt (T, 41k, WIP, MY/QS, MY/WWX, WangXian, Reincarnation, Half-Sibling Incest Mention!, QS does the ritual instead of MXY, WWX as a woman, MY Is His Own Warning, Canon Divergence, Impersonation, Additional Warnings In Author’s Note, Please check the notes before reading a chapter, Timeline What Timeline, WWX Has PTSD)

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13. Hello I’m trying to find a fic i read a few years ago it was modern day and lan zhan kidnapped Wei wuxian who works at a coffee shop to be his husband and he keeps he locked up in a penthouse and he wasn’t allowed to look out the windows and one chapter he had a fever and stepped on broken glass. @stitch97

FOUND? Courtship Rite by FunkyShoes (M, 26k, WangXian, XiYao, Dark LWJ, Dark LXC, Morally Gray JGY, Malicious NHS, but that's not the focus of the story, banality of evil, Kidnapping, Courtship Gone Wrong, Manipulation, Mind Manipulation, Off Screen Violence, Supportive Sibling LXC, Modern AU, Dubious Consent, Rape/Non-con Elements, Non-Graphic Rape/Non-Con, I've been told I should tag for passive victim wwx) I think. It's JGY POV

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14. I'm looking for a fic, but the main problem is I'm not sure if it was on AO3, Tumblr or Twitter (and if it was Twitter, I think I read it as an unrolled thread). LWJ visits WWX in Lotus Pier and at one point gets accidentally whipped by YZY when she was aiming for WWX. He demands WWX's hand in marriage as reparation and I think LXC was a little exasperated but didn't contest it.

Thank you in advance, and no worries if you can't find it! (I feel like I read something like this recently but which of them was it is the problem TvT ~Mod L)

FOUND! Tumblr post by ronniexian I’m fairly certain it’s this

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15. I’m looking for a Cloud Recesses fic where Wei Wuxian wants to signal that he and Lan Wangji are courting so he grinds ink for him before class.

FOUND! 💖 Magical Marriage Ribbons Series by starandrea (Varies, 1m, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Accidental Marriage, Fluff, Happy Ending, Telepathic bond, Kink Negotiation, Family Drama, Magical Pregnancy, Dual Cultivation, Shapeshifters, Modern with Magic, Immortality, Yilling Wei Sect, podfic) I think #15 is one of the early worlds in the magical marriage ribbons series by starandrea. I'm not sure which, but I think there's a 30(?) Days of secret courting in cloud recess in it

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16. hi! for the fic finder: i remember only one scene from a fic where at a cultivation conference both lan xichen and nie mingjue kiss jiang yanli on the cheek. i think it was either to make jin zixuan aware of jyl or otherwise a result of someone's political scheming? i dont remember whose idea it was but it wasn't lxc or nmj's. im positive this fic is in my bookmarks somewhere but i dont remember enough to find it lmao

FOUND? Lynchpin by ShanaStoryteller (Not Rated, 103k, WangXian, JC & WWX, Time Travel, Fix-It, Lynchpin [PODFIC] by Opalsong, [PODFIC] Lynchpin by Gwogobo) nhs convinces nmh and lwj to kiss jyl on the cheek at the phoenix mountain hunt to make jzx jealous

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17. This is a hyper specific ask because the only things I remember about this fic is wangxian are in university and wwx is an art major or in some art class where he shares this big space with a bunch of classmates that's divided up with tape. At some point he gets into a fight with another classmate cause he stuff spills over and lwj helps him. I think it might have been lwj's pov?

FOUND! could it be "show me a quiver, give me tonight" or its part 2 "crossed the world with these empty hands" by spookykingdomstarlight

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18. I’m looking for a fic where Lan Wangji first meets Wei Wuxian as his doctor, with Jiang Cheng storming out of his room shouting that Lan Wangji should just kill him because obviously WWX didn’t value his own life. (WWX had pushed JC out of the way of a car.) LW is darkly amused by it. He’s mildly obsessed with the pearl drop WWX wears? Runs into him in the meat department later, & eventually moves WWX in. Loves having him in their apartment, providing for him. Possibly too much @any-mouse

FOUND! singularity by azuresummer (E, 7k, WangXian, Modern AU, Dom/sub Undertones, Dominant LWJ, Submissive WWX, Serial Killers, Dark LWJ, Possessive LWJ, Protective LWJ, Serial Killer LWJ, Doctor LWJ, Stalking, Manipulation, Obsession, Mentions of Murder) I think 18 is singularity! Where lwj is a doctor/serial killer that stalks wwx at forst to kill him but falls in love wih him instead

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19. hi. i'm searching for a fic, i don't remember much except the wei family is actually a merchant family and wei changze is their 3rd or 2nd young master. wy inherited all his father wealth and let the butler to continue doing it for him? then the wei family send dowry to cloud recesses, lotus pier n qinghe? withdrawn their business from lanling jin? anyone know where i can find it? thank you. :) @aishiteru-amie

FOUND! Keep Holding On by abCEE (M, 316k, JC & WWX & JYL, wangxian, canon divergence, role reversal, YLLZ JYL, yunmeng sibling dynamics, good uncle LQR, sunshot campaign, PTSD, established relationship, angst w/ happy ending) I think its around chapter 36-37?

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20. Hi !! I've been looking everywhere for a fic (or maybe two ?) that takes place in the north (or south?) pole. I remember that they get trapped in there, and something is very wrong. I THINK that there was something about resentement-virus or something ? It was quite a while ago... I'm in the mood for Wangxian in the Arctic and i can't find it !!! xD If you managed to find it (or any like it...) Thank you so much by advance !! @czeriah

FOUND? and from our own/live to ourselves by betweentheheavesofstorm (M, 105k, WangXian, Modern AU, Fantasy, Reality TV, Arctic Survival, Blood Magic, Blood and Gore, Getting Together, Pining, Angst with a Happy Ending, Self-Harm, Bloodletting, Hurt/Comfort, Slow Burn, Animal Death, Hunting, Mild Sexual Content)

FOUND? Found in the Sharpness of Contrasts by nickel710 (T, 35k, wangxian, modern cultivation, Antarctic Expedition, Magic and Science, Fear, Survival Horror, Body Horror but pretty minimal, chapter notes will explain if you need more info, idiots to lovers, Mystery, Falling In Love, Case Fic, Worldbuilding, Featuring a Generator Named Bertha, Panic/Acute Anxiety) a modern with cultivation fic set on an Antarctic research base

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