#Of Sand and Malice Made

[lenaellsi]

if you take "I can make a difference" at face value you simply must also consider "you're the bad guys.” like they are both vital aspects of aziraphale's decision. the problem is not just aziraphale's attempt to lead a corrupt system, it is also his continued belief in the superiority of heaven and angels over hell and demons. that's why crowley was so hurt. it's not just a miscommunication, or a disagreement on the practicalities of changing hearts and minds in heaven--it is a fundamental misunderstanding of morality and of crowley as a person. if crowley had asked aziraphale to come to hell to help fix it and protect the earth, he would not have gone. he says so. it’s not just about safety, or reform. it is about being Good.

and all of this happens because aziraphale is not just motivated by fear and love: he is also motivated by shame. he is insecure in his identity as an angel and a Good Guy, and both his alienation from heaven and his relationship with crowley have always aggravated this insecurity. it’s why shax’s mockery hit him so hard, and why he’s so susceptible to manipulation from the metatron. he desperately wants to be taken seriously and treated with respect and to have power and be an uncomplicated Good Guy, and that is just as much of a motivating factor in his decision as his desire to protect humanity and crowley.

and re: “appoint you to be an angel”: I know people want to insist that aziraphale has never wanted to change anything about crowley, but I’m sorry, I just don’t think that’s true. over and over in season 2 aziraphale demonstrates a desire to sand the rough edges off people and things for the sake of the Greater Good, without consideration for the free will or complex emotions of others. obviously this tendency culminates in the ball, where he exerts control over all of the humans to make everything perfect for maggie and nina, and in doing so, infringes on their autonomy and nina’s (crowley’s narrative mirror!) capacity to feel her own anger and sadness. and he has never liked that crowley is a demon. in his mind, the problem has always been that crowley was put in the wrong category, not that the entire system of dividing people and angels into Good and Bad is ridiculous. that’s the exact lesson he needs to learn.

and yes, his intentions are good, absolutely. I don’t think aziraphale ever acts out of malice, and I do think he genuinely wants the best for the people around him, particularly crowley. after all, if crowley is accepted as an angel again, as aziraphale has always secretly considered him to be, their relationship can (in his mind) finally stop being so fraught with danger and conflict. (the other side of that, of course, is that aziraphale can also stop being so ashamed for loving someone who is supposed to be Bad, and everything in his life will make sense again, the way it hasn’t since he met that star maker who got so upset about god’s plan.)

but that’s not who crowley is, and it never has been. even before he fell, crowley’s recklessness and relentless questions made aziraphale uncomfortable. their relationship has never been safe or easy, and in wanting to make it so, aziraphale is demonstrating a desire to change the parts of crowley that led to his fall, whether he intends to or not.

I’m rambling, but the point is: the insistence on reframing this moment as a purely selfless, calculated, self-sacrificing decision by aziraphale to protect crowley and the world ignores the uglier parts of the things he said in order to make their eventual reconciliation less complicated, and it’s really frustrating to me. crowley is in fact right to be upset by what he said, and it’s not just a misunderstanding that can be fixed with aziraphale saying “I was only trying to protect you!” and another kiss. it’s a culmination of all of the double think aziraphale has been doing in order to preserve his vision of heaven as The Source Of Truth And Light And Good since before the beginning of time, and it’s time for him to finally unpack it.

(and because every post on the final fifteen needs a disclaimer: aziraphale is trying his best and has an incredible amount of love in his heart and wants so badly to do good and ALSO the things he says, does, and believes can be incredibly hurtful and destructive. all of these things can be true.)

#good omens #aziraphale #crowley #final fifteen #good omens meta #good omens 2 #long post

[ganondoodle]

totk cataclysm event wasnt just a great (but utterly missed) opportunity to change the map in techincally little ways that has drastic consequences both in stakes and in gameplay (like i mentioned before, flooding the gerudo desert would have meant devastating consequences for its ecosystem- like imagine little islands of sand still poking out, acting as a sort of last doomed refuge for sandseals- but also cahnged the entire gameplay of it, good chance to introduce some neat new ways to surf on water like a new ridable creature or an ice shield freezing a path while you surf on it, the gerudo being forced to save the city from drowing in various means or now living on the roofs, trying to adapt by building boats ect - also call back to older games?? since totk loves that so much ..-, vah naboris serving as the savest refuge being high above the water, even if non functional; similarly takign away ALL water from the zora region, gaving it all dry out would imemdiately turn into something way different and could mean death for the zora- forcing them to move to the lower parts of akkala for example- maybe vah ruta is still halfway functioning bc the faith the zora have to mipha, dorephan and sidon is, while not enough to keep it fully functional, but enough to generate some water so the most stubborn or brave zora set up around it like a last oasis; i know its somewhat done with death mountain but the gorons dont really suffer from it bc their only problem is a drugged rock that makes them mean and lazy ..- what about collapsing or exploding it, leaving a large crater that over the course of the game could start to grow with plant life since vulcanic earth is so fertile- some never seen before ones that was dormant in the lava and now that its cooled off is springing to life, which might seem good at first but for the area and its wildlife means loss of their habitat; the rito freezing over, but actually having to move, maybe into the tabantha canyon, building their new makeshift homes in between the walls of it- generally just switiching things around a bit would have done so much wihtout having to edit every last detail ((seriously tho, how did this game take so long given that botw took similar but they did that ENTIRE main map as detailed as it is AND made it all coherent with itself and its themes- im ranting again ..)

-but it ALSO would have been the perfect opportunity to introduce new weather types created by the sudden change in environment, somethign like a super strong wind that slows you when walking agaisnt and lets you jump much farther when with it- a darkness thing that clouds the world in utter darkness with only little light getting through anything that is caused by mushrooms from the udnerground invading the surface and their spores snuffs out all light (which could explain the weird darkness in the ruins from botw too!!), or just simply mist! making everything misty changes the entire feel of any environment drastically- you could make vertain enemies spawn only in certain weather conditions, lessening the repetive overuse of them; and that is only on the surface- what if the sky had sunbeams so strong it sets anything on fire if you dare to leave the shadows- to comabt it get a armor with a giant hat!! the underground could have been filled with different environments in the first place, but then of course thered be those dark spores of mushrooms, an entire forest you have to carefully travers other wise making them release their spores and make it all more difficult, glowy mushrooms, MORE glowy mushroms, theres so many weird ass shrooms IRL you could take inspo from!! maybe soemthing like a forest of kelp, long flowy plants obstructing view and making you anxious by any movement- there could be one thats a mimic or infected with miasma, slightly off color and its knobs are malice eyes that open only if it thinks you cant see it

(also for the idea of taking botws stuff and recontextualizing it, the guardians or shrines, now non fucntional, could be infected my miasma sometimes, maybe randomly to keep you guessing- an overgrown shrine suddenly lifting itself up with hands clawing at you when you get too close or do sth wrong to distrub it- similar with guardians tho the effect might be less since you know them as a threat already- or sth i mentioned in another post, a tower being used as a weapon by a gigatic miasma monster- the one in the gerudo region with the bottomless pit for example, perfect for an arena for you to run around in the spiral while its swinging at you etc etc)

JUST taking what botw had and mixing it up, expanding on it, even if technically little change, it could do so much but in the actual game death mountain and rito is the only ones that saw anything of a change like it, and it largely .. didnt change anything or was reversible easily, and had no actual consquences that meant anything, neither stakes nor environmental or narratively (the gerudo felt like it at first but its also largely reversible, its just kinda .. adding a bit of city)

i hhhhhhhhhhhhhh have so many thoughts still, i am just better at holding them back .... also dont wanna annoy lmao

#ganondoodles talks #zelda #ganondoodles rants #totk #loz totk #i still want to do the rewrite #but man wheres the time #i will never not be salty about totk #“YOU WERE THE CHOSEN ONE” #i wanna yell bc it could have been ... so good

[ddejavvu]

hi angel!! since you said you wanted top gun requests, i thought i would request snuggling at a bonfire with hangman ? maybe like the rest of their friends are there and hangman and reader are just being sweet? lmk if that's too specific or not specific enough!

"There's sand on your dress, darlin'." Jake uses the rare moment of silence that you're granted when he ducks his head down, using it as a shield from the rest of the conversation around the bonfire as he murmurs against your ear.

"There's sand everywhere," You shrug, brushing the grains off of your sundress. Your legs have started sprouting goosebumps in the night air, and while you wouldn't call it cold, that's what it is for California. The ocean only a few feet away doesn't help, and you admit to yourself that there might be a slight chill in the air that you're unprepared for. Jake offers you a bite of the s'more that he's made, but you try to decline as politely as possible.

"No thanks, babe. I don't like mine with hotdogs in them."

Jake had gone a little overzealous in the creation of his s'more. Fanboy had challenged him to a s'more stacking contest, and though Jake's had one by size alone, you're not sure what came out of it could legally be called a s'more.

There's not one, not two, but three sizeable chunks of hotdog sandwiched between the layers, and Jake genuinely doesn't seem to mind at all that the salty flavors mix with the overly sweet. He has an iron stomach, but you're a little more fragile, so you decline his kind offer.

"Want me to make you one? A normal one," Jake clarifies, reaching over your thighs to grab the skewer you've stuck in the sand. His hand rains grainy filth down onto your skirt but you brush it away just like you had earlier, and you shake your head before he can sprinkle sand into the marshmallow bag.

"I'm okay, babe. I'm sleepy," You admit, leaning your head against his shoulder, "Can we go home soon?"

"Yeah." He grunts, already trying to maneuver in the sand, his free hand pressing into the stuff and sinking, "We can-"

"Not now," You corral him once more, setting a hand on his arm and coaxing him to drop back down onto the sand, "I wanna hear Rooster finish his story. Payback interrupted him, he'll be done soon."

You're fairly certain you hear Jake mumble something about how any story Rooster's telling is chicken shit, but you don't bother asking. Instead you stroke your hand down his arm, reaffixing your head to his shoulder.

"Love you," You hum softly, barely heard over the crackling fire and the whoosh of the night wind by the ocean. Jake hears you loud and clear, though, he feels the words in his soul as he leans down to kiss at your temple.

"Love you too, darlin'."

You can't resist the urge' you lean up to kiss him. It's a risky move, because one of his hands is coated in sand, and the other one has both hotdogs and chocolate in it, but it's a risk you're willing to take.

It doesn't play out how you want it to. Jake seems to forget about the hand that he'd plunged into the sand, lifting it to hold your waist, and scooping a portion of the grainy substance over your lap.

He realizes what he's done nanoseconds too late, breaking the kiss you'd only just begun to share and groaning as he buries his face into the crown of your head.

"Jake-" You admonish, but there's no way malice could ever seep into your tone; not with him.

"There's sand on your dress, darlin'." He echoes his previous statement, far more sheepishly this time, "I don't suppose a bite of the hotdog s'more would make up for it?"

#jake seresin x reader #jake seresin imagine #jake seresin fanfiction #jake seresin x you #jake seresin x y/n #hangman #hangman x reader #hangman x you #hangman x y/n #hangman fanfiction #hangman imagine #jake hangman seresin #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin imagine #jake hangman seresin fanfiction #jake hangman seresin x you #jake hangman seresin x y/n #top gun x reader #top gun maverick x reader

[thefallennightmare]

Just Pretend-nineteen

*gif created by me. feel free to use, simply give credit*

Parings: Noah Sebastian x Musician! Reader

Warnings/Tropes: language, angst, fluff, smut, star-crossed lovers, right person/wrong time, cheating, talks of mental abuse.

Summary: “I can wait for years, heaven knows I’m not getting over you.” A story about two star-crossed lovers, that always find their way back because their souls are entwined. The universe desperately attempts to bring them together, no matter what the cost.

Authors Note: I realized today that Sarah and I have been working on this story for almost TWO MONTHS. Holy shit. Talk about a slow burn! I don't think it's ever taken me this long to write an active story. Also, there are a few sentences in Greek and Italian in this chapter. You can find the translations at the end of the chapter.

Collaborating With: @thescarlettvvitch(better give her all the love as well)

Tags: @thescarlettvvitch @ozwriterchick @waake-meee-up @notingridslurkaccount @niicoleleigh @sammyjoeee @xxrainstorm @dominuslunae @notmaddihealy @malice-ov-mercy @crimson-calligraphyx @iknownothingpeople @writethrough @thebadchic @blackveilomens Claudia on Tumblr @tobe-written @blacksoul-27 @loeytuan98 @loverofagoodbeard @comfortcharactercraze @lma1986 @plutonikchaos1 @spicywhenspeaking @lyschko666 @somewhere-diamond @hi-fancy-seeing-you-here @koskeepsake @bngurngheart @shilohrosechicken @emzandthevoid @casangel1986 @qualityvoidcollectorsblog @myownthoughts12 @jilliemiw86 @bellaboo967 @halloweenaesthetic

NOAH

My knee bounced in a tangent along with the clock on the wall behind Dr. Poulos as she tilted her head towards me, waiting for my answer. 

“I’m sorry, what was the question?” I blinked slowly. 

She gave me a small smile, tapping her pen on her notebook; something I’ve realized she did when she was ready to ask me a hard-hitting question. 

“How have the panic attacks been?” Dr. Poulos wondered. 

“Uh,” I rubbed my jaw. “It’s been better, I suppose. I still feel them starting every once in a while but my friends have been great at helping me through them.” 

“That’s great,” she smiled. “I’m glad to hear that. I know it was a problem for you from our first session.” 

“Yeah, I’ve come to realize there were a few aspects of my life that hindered me more than helped me.” 

Dr. Poulos’ brows raised. “Like what?” 

“Up until recently, I would drink; a lot. And smoke weed every so often. People say it’s the lesser of the drugs but it affected me in such a way that I didn’t like the man I saw in the mirror. Same with the alcohol. So, I’ve decided to become sober.” 

That spread a wider smile on her face. “I’m proud of you, Noah. It’s not an easy thing to overcome but to see how determined you are makes me very happy.” 

I ran my hands over my thighs while standing up straighter on the couch; her positive praise made my heart beat a bit faster. 

“I just want to be the healthiest I can be. Your body is a temple, ya know? It’s only been a few weeks but I can already tell a difference in the way I sing.” 

“That’s exceptional, Noah. I’m happy to hear that. It’ll help the course of your life. But I must ask, do you feel it’ll leave a part of you open and willing to accept the love you think you deserve?” 

I pursed my lips. “What do you mean?” 

“Well, as you mentioned previously, it sounds like Y/N has had some complicated relations with a man who was in a state of addiction. Do you feel that maybe, a part of your being sober can help you leave that part finally open? Allow you to see that you can be loved.” 

When I remained silent, letting her words rest in my mind, Dr. Poulos shut her notebook and set it on the table between us; next to one of those sand zen garden things. 

“What you're doing with Bailey and hiding your true feelings for Y/N doesn't seem to be helping, right?” 

I shook my head with a long sigh. “I never meant for things to go this far.” 

Dr. Poulos leaned forward to rest her elbows on her knees, stippling her fingers. 

“Has Y/N ever given you a reason to doubt the things you say to her?” 

“No. Never,” I answered without missing a beat. 

“Then what’s stopping you from telling her how you feel?” She brushed a strand of brown-graying hair from her eyes. 

With Dr. Poulos’ words replaying in my mind, I sat down on the steps of her office while clicking on Bailey’s contact name on my phone. As it rang, I tapped my fingers on my knee to drum a random beat. 

“Hey, it’s Bailey. Leave me a message!’

Cursing to myself, I wished that she had answered because I didn’t want to do this with her voicemail but I had no other option. This needed to be done. 

“Bailey, it’s me- Noah,” I sighed while pinching my eyes shut. “Listen, I didn’t want to do this over text or on your voicemail. But I thought it best you hear me say this. I wanted to discuss it with you the other day but shit came up.” 

My eyes watched as a few people walked past on the sidewalk in front of me. 

“Look, I never wanted to hurt you, you’re a nice girl but this-us-isn’t working for me. I’m-I’m sorry if this hurts you. Truly. I’m not good at words all the time but I will say that I wish you the best and I hope you have a nice life.” 

After hanging up, I could physically feel the weight lift off my shoulders and heart. Breathing was easier and lighter, so with this newfound feeling, I quickly dialed Y/N’s number. 

“Mochi!” 

I could hear the smile in her voice.

“Hi, angel. Are you busy?” I asked while rising from the steps to walk a few steps to my car that was parked in the street. 

“I’m walking into an appointment right now. Can I call you later?”

Ignoring the way my heart dropped, I started my car and sat there for a moment. 

“Of course. I’ll be in the studio but I’ll always answer for you.” My hand ran over the steering wheel. 

“So sweet,” Y/N chuckled and my stomach fluttered. “There’s a reason why I gave you that nickname.” 

We quickly said our goodbyes and my mind was filled with the heavy conversation I needed to have with Y/N. I didn’t even realize the familiar figure bounding up the steps of the same office I left mere minutes ago, her yellow sundress flowing in the wind.

READER

My eyes were trained on the small sand zen garden on Dr. Poulos’ table as she tapped her pen against the notebook in her lap. The clock ticked annoyingly loudly behind her, almost mocking me as I continued to leave her question unanswered. 

“Y/N,” Dr. Poulos’s voice was firm, breaking me from my trance. “You mentioned your mother contacted you the other day?” 

I played with the hem of my yellow sundress. “Uh, yeah. She doesn't do it often but when she does, she really lets her feelings known.” 

“And what are those feelings?” 

“The same bullshit. My mom doesn’t agree with the lifestyle I’ve chosen. She thinks it's a waste of time,” I shrugged as if it wasn’t a big deal. “It’s who she is. Being Greek, I was raised to have large but realistic dreams. My father on the other hand wanted and still wants me to follow my heart, he wants me to go after what I want, what I need. There’s a line between both of them.”

“You know,” Dr. Poulos tucked a strand of her brown-graying hair behind her ear. “There’s a study that says insecure attachment styles can develop as a result of poor parenting. Research indicates that attachment in childhood affects the development of familial, social, and romantic relationships later in life. Do you feel this has deeply affected or influenced your relationships? 

I pursed my lips. “What do you mean?” 

“I mean, you’ve had a pattern of falling for men who aren't good for you yet believing they are real love when you know subconsciously you deserve better.” 

“Maybe,” the word trailed off my lips, uncertainty weighing heavy on my heart. 

Dr. Poulos hummed, crossing one leg over the other. “It sounds that way, doesn’t it? Are you running from Noah because you’re afraid you’ll disappoint him? Afraid he’ll do what your mother often does? You’ve seen the way your parent's marriage was like growing up, that has to be a hindering factor, doesn't it? 

My jaw ticked. “My mother was unfair to my father. I’d never do that or treat anyone that way.” 

“I know you won’t, Y/N. You know it yourself, deep down in your heart,” she patted a hand over her own heart. “Because from what you told me about Noah, I don’t believe that he would act the way your mother has. You won’t disappoint him. And he doesn’t want to do that to you either.” 

I shook my head widely. “He’s with someone else so it doesn't even matter.” 

A small smile lifted at the corner of her lips. “Quite the contrary, Y/N. You said it earlier you wanted to tell him the truth. He isn’t your mother and again, from what you’ve told me it sounds like you both may want the same things. You’re just not trusting yourself. You’re relying on your trauma and issues with your mother to get in the way.” 

“Wow, nice observation,” I snorted. “How am I supposed to fix that?” 

Dr. Poulos ignored my snarky attitude. “If your mother has been unreliable, then you may need to lean on other people who are for support. Socializing with friends and learning to be vulnerable with others can help increase emotional connection.” 

“Malcolm and Chase are reliable,” I stated. 

“It sounds like it, from what you’ve told me,” she nodded. “There’s also Noah. His support can take some time to develop but having stable relationships with others can be part of healing. And most of all, self-care.” 

I left therapy with a hopeful heart and bright smile. Dr. Poulos always knew what I needed to hear as much as I tried to fight it. Peaking down at my phone, my pulse quickened when I noticed a missed text from Noah.

Mochi 🍡: New episode of Attack on Titan dropped. I can pick up lunch. Your place or mine?

Giggling, I typed out my response, not letting anything ruin this euphoric high I felt.

NOAH

I stood outside Y/N’s front door, shaking out the nerves, and knocked on it. I had a bag of take-out food in my hand, something she requested from her favorite burrito place. 

“Hi,” she smiled while letting me in. “Did you remember the Dr. Pepper?” 

I chuckled while holding up the cup. “Light ice.” 

As we set out the food on the table in their dining room, I motioned towards the various easels and splattered pain on the carpet. “Studio?” 

“Yeah,” Y/N gave a sheepish smile. The lighting in here is better than my bedroom; although not by much.” 

I took in the various paintings of abstract lines and colors, some of random landscapes, and one of Salem. 

“These are really good, angel.” 

“I’m glad I decided to do this. Painting has been a great way to escape from reality, even for a little bit,” she took a bite of her burrito. “Oh, extra guac? How’d you know?” 

I shrugged. “I just do.”

We ate in silence for the next few long moments and as much as I tried to quiet the loud voices in my mind that screamed at me to tell Y/N the truth right now, it was extremely difficult. 

My eyes took in the glimmer of her bracelet as she reached for the chips and I couldn't stop the smile that spread wide to my lips. Y/N was still wearing the jewelry I bought her and it made me feel proud. 

“Where’s Chase and Malcolm?” I asked, noticing the quiet.

Y/N took a large drink of her soda, reveling in the taste. “Hiking. They left earlier this morning and typically don’t come back till later. So I have the place to myself.”

Just as I was about to speak, a persistent knock sounded on the front door, and she turned towards it with a confused stare. 

“Expecting anyone?” 

She shook her head. “Nope. Probably someone selling Girl Scout cookies.” 

“If they have Thin Mints, I’ll take four boxes,” I called after Y/N. 

Her laugh echoed throughout the room but soon seized when she opened the door. I noticed the way her body went rigid and I slowly rose in time to see a tall but petite brunette all but push her way inside. 

“Hi, koukla. I would have texted or called but it seems like you have an issue with checking your phone,” the lady peered around the space, a sour look on her lips. 

“Mo-mom? What are you doing here?” 

Shit. 

I knew there was a history with Y/N’s mom but never knew how deep it ran. 

“I was in town and thought to surprise you. Since you never talk to me anymore,” her mom tsked. 

Finally, her eyes landed on me, standing in the threshold of the living room and dining room; gaze hardening. 

“Who’s this?” She asked Y/N. 

Internally I snorted at how she asked Y/N rather than asking me. 

“I’m Noah,” I introduced myself while brushing away the strands from my face. 

Her mom hummed before nodding towards the back end of the house. “Give me and my daughter some privacy.” 

“Mom!” Y/N seethed. 

Noticing how the tension shifted, I gave Y/N a soft smile. “It’s alright. I’ll go say hi to Salem.” 

With my back to them, I walked down the hall and heard her mom mutter something in Greek. 

“Giatí échei makriá malliá?” 

“Eísai apísteftos,” Y/N responded in a stern voice. 

Sitting in the Y/N’s bedroom with Salem perched on my lap, I left the door wide open so I could listen in on the conversation. It may have been wrong to eavesdrop but something deep inside of me told me to be on edge, just in case.

“You should have called, Mom,” Y/N said. 

“You never return my calls.” 

“Gee, I wonder why. You exactly haven’t been that peachy the last few times we’ve talked.” I could hear the slight edge in Y/N’s voice. 

“I thought I’d told you I don’t appreciate the way you speak to me.” 

“It’s a two-way street, Mom. You get what you give.” 

Salem purred loudly in my lap and I continued to scratch him in the spot I knew he loved; between his ears. 

“I’ve always hated when your father used that line,” her mother sighed. 

Someone was pacing, their footsteps echoing loudly down the hall, and I peered down at Salem. 

“Your mom seems pretty upset right now,” I frowned at the feline. 

His bright green eyes stared back at me, simply demanding one thing silently; more pets to which I obliged. 

“Have you been to the doctor lately?” 

“Since when do you care, Mom? You never ask how I’m doing.” 

Salem jumped off of me when I slowly rose to my feet, deciding that I needed to be closer to Y/N, just in case. 

“I know how bad Endometriosis affects you, Y/N. I’m simply wondering.” 

I could almost hear Y/N roll her eyes as I neared the end of the hallway, out of sight but could still see just enough. Y/N stood with her hands on her hips while her mom sat comfortably on the couch. 

“I’m fine.” Y/N kept her answers short. 

Her mother pursed her lips. “And how’s the career?” 

Now it was my turn to roll my eyes at the way she said career. 

Y/N snorted. “Please, like you give a shit.” 

“Watch your language!” 

“You’ve never supported me with my music. Hell, with any of my dreams. So don’t start acting like you give a shit now. 

Her mom rose to her feet, narrowing her gaze. “That’s not true. I only want what’s best for you, Y/N. You don’t want to end up like your father and be stuck.” 

“He wasn’t stuck,” Y/N scoffed while clenching her fists. 

Her mother clicked her tongue while brushing away Y/N’s hair from her face. “Yes, sweetie, he was. And I’m telling you, no man will want to deal with someone that’s always on the road. What man is going to wait around or understand this lifestyle? What future are you gonna have?”

My jaw clenched at hearing those words because I knew it wasn’t true. There was a man who wanted Y/N; me. I would wait for years if I had to. Whenever she was ready, I’d be here. 

But hearing how her mom talked to her made me realize that there was a reason why Y/N never spoke of her and why she was so apprehensive of any future relationship. 

“We’re not talking about this,” Y/N stepped away from her mom to stand on the other end of the couch, giving more space between them. 

“Once again, you’re avoiding a tough subject. I didn’t raise you this way,” her mother chastised. 

Y/N’s jaw dropped. “Raised me? Are you fucking kidding me? You barely were home, too busy focusing on your career leaving Dad home to raise me!” 

I smirked at hearing Y/N mock her mother in how she said career moments before. 

“Your father was always your favorite. But it was me you stayed with after the divorce!” Her mother's voice was raised. 

Fearing this would end in such a bad way, I pulled my phone to send a text to Chase. 

Me: Y/N’s mom is here and I’m afraid shit is about to hit the fan. What should I do?

His response came almost immediately. 

Chase: Fuck. Whatever you do, Noah. Don’t leave. Stay until we get there. Every time her mom either contacts her or shows up, Y/N goes into a dark place. Malcolm and I are leaving right now and should be back in an hour.

I swallowed thickly as my stomach dropped. If the guys were worried about Y/N’s mom being here, it could only mean one thing. 

Disaster. 

“I stayed with you because you made me feel guilty!” Y/N choked on a sob. “For years I wondered why I didn’t feel a connection with you so I thought staying with you would bring us closer. But instead, you dropped the you’re adopted bomb on me; on my birthday!”

Her mother had the audacity to shrug. 

“You probably would have found out eventually. I simply sped up the process.” 

Y/N shook her head. “You’re unbelievable.” 

“Because I tell the truth? You think people are going to stay with you with the lifestyle you’ve chosen?” 

“Oh, gods, we’re back on this again?” Y/N ran a hand through her hair. “I have a lot of people that support me.” 

 “Who? Your friend?” Her mom pointed a firm finger towards the hallway where I was still hiding around the corner. “Do you think he is going to wait around?” 

For years if I have to. 

“No. No one will, Y/N. You’re like your father with these pipe dreams.” 

“Pipe dreams? I didn’t realize wanting a family was a pipe dream,” Y/N spat. 

Her mother gave her a somber smile, clicking her teeth. “Kouklamou, I thought we talked about this. You can’t have a family, not the traditional way anyway. You need to realize that no man is going to want to go through all that trouble to have a child. It’s not worth it.” 

Y/N and I both flinched at the same time, those words almost verbatim with what Trey used to say to her. There I stood, my fists clenched by my sides, I rolled my shoulders back, glaring towards the petite brunette with dark eyes. 

I was feeling triggered while I observed this entire thing; it felt intrusive at first but now feels like I’m behind fifty feet of glass.

It made sense now, why this loving bond between Y/N and I was inaccessible. In this mode, I had to take great care not to damage these bonds of love, this relationship, this friendship, and this woman in front of me, who very early on became everything to my heart and soul. For in time, the glass disappeared and my love returned stronger.

I understood.

From my corner, I could see how the kitchen table had seen every emotion, from the sweet silent happiness of family times, when the only sound is contented enjoyment, to the rage that bursts out in the hard times; I understood. 

I refused to stand there and let it sour, not to her. Never to her.

Sobs played like a sad tune and I noticed Y/N was crying, hastily whipping away the tears. 

“I can’t believe I continue to let you in my life, knowing how you’ll treat me. Girls are supposed to look up to their mothers as idols, to learn from them how to be mothers. But you’ve shown me how not to treat my kids in the future.” 

“We’ve talked about this, Y/N. The chances of you becoming a mother are not in the cards for you. Neither is this musical career. You need to face reality.”

Fuck this. 

As I stepped into view of them, Y/N pointed to the front door. “I don’t need you to come in here and tell me how to run my life, I’m done with this.” 

“Y/n-.” 

“You heard her,” I spoke while standing next to Y/N, immediately wrapping my arm around her shoulder to pull her into my chest. 

My heart broke at how quickly she grasped onto my shirt, not wanting me to let her go. 

“Excuse me? This is a private matter between my daughter and me. This doesn't concern you,” her mom’s eyes sliced into me. 

“It does. Because it’s Y/N.” 

Her mom’s gaze bounced between the two of us, almost waiting for Y/N to object to my words, but instead, she stood firm, sniffing away her tears. 

“You need to leave.” 

With one final glare, Y/N’s mom snatched her purse off the couch while muttering something Greek under her breath before she slammed the door behind her; all the negative energy leaving in waves. 

“Y/N,” I tried to make her look at me but she kept her head cast down. 

“I can’t, Noah,” she cried. 

I lifted her chin with a firm finger and sucked in a breath as broken, bloodshot eyes stared back at me. 

“Don’t ever hide from me, angel. You know that.” 

Y/N kept her gaze firm on my face. “She does this every time. I don’t know why I continue to let her. I’m just a girl who wants her mother's love, is that so wrong?” 

“Angel,” I murmured while pulling her into my embrace, brushing a kiss across her forehead. 

NOAH

My fingers drummed against the marble counter in front of me while Davis set out various ingredients. We were currently streaming the two of us cooking BLTs, something for the fans to enjoy and watch. I was reading some of the comments, smiling at a few then cringing at some others. 

Davis handed me a block of cheese. “Cut this up for me, would ya?” 

With it in one hand, I playfully spit on my hand before giving it a nice smack. 

“Hm, imagining that someone's ass?” He smirked under his breath. 

I gave him a light shove. “Fuck off.” 

We spent the next long while goofing off and having fun for the stream. It was nice to let my mind focus on something else besides Y/N and her mom. I spent the rest of the night at her place, holding her in my arms as she cried herself to sleep. The familiar scent of her lingered on me as I tucked her softly in her bed. Before I walked out of her house, I ran into Chase and Malcolm, whose parting words stuck with me all day.

“She needs you more than she’ll admit. It may not seem like it but she does.” 

Y/N texted me this morning to thank me for being there for her and say that if she went M.I.A for a while today, it’s only because Hollow Souls were in the studio recording. I didn't ask how she was feeling after the surprise visit from her mom. Y/N would tell me, if she wanted to, when she was ready.

“Alright, let’s read some comments,” Davis suggested as we finished up the cook-off; me winning.

He held Max in his hands, every so often giving him kisses. As I read a few comments out loud and responded, the dog practically begged me for attention when a familiar username appeared on the screen. 

Y/NHollowSouls: Noah Sebastian, I swear to Hades himself. You kiss Max right now or I’ll come over there and kick your ass.

I laughed while shaking my head. “Alright, Max. Come here! Let me give you some love.” 

I scratched the dog's ear while leaving a soft kiss on his nose then looked back to the computer screen to see Y/N leave another comment. 

Y/NHollowSouls: Good, that’s better. Now I need to taste this famous BLT that won. 

“Then get your ass over here. Bring some coconut water because Noah drank the last one,” Davis said once he read the comment. 

My heart began to beat widely in my chest at the thought of seeing Y/N again. 

Y/NHollowSouls: fuck yes. Noah, have that sandwich ready for me.

We ended the stream shortly after that but my eyes lingered on the black screen for a long moment. Davis immediately picked up on my quiet mood and knocked on the countertop.

“Noah?” 

My name was white noise, still staring at zoning out in front of me. 

“Earth to Noah! Come in Herc! Come in Herc!” 

“What?” My eyes snapped over to Davis, finally breaking out of my trance. 

“What I thought.” He smirks before getting serious. “Are you alright?” 

I gave a weak smile towards Davis. “Yeah. I’m fine. Why wouldn’t I be?” 

He motioned towards the laptop. “I know you’re not actually fine right now but-.” 

I ran a hand over my face, doing my best to keep my breathing calm and even. “I’ll be fine, I promise. It just fucking hurts.” 

Davis shifted on his feet, hesitation clear on his face. “Why? No disrespect to Y/N at all, you know I love her-we all do. But why did you choose to stay in touch? After all the hurt you’ve gone through.”

My vision was direct with his. “Because I’d rather have her from afar to make sure she’s alright than to not have her in my life at all. Besides, she’s going through a lot of shit, something no one should go through alone. I won’t let her.” 

A grin spread across his face and he nodded. “I knew it. I just wanted to hear you admit it. But you need to end this shit with Bailey.” 

“I already did.” 

“Fuck,” Davis’ eyes widened. “Finally. How did she take it?” 

I nervously rubbed the back of my neck. “That’s the thing, she didn’t answer. I left her a voicemail.” 

“A voicemail? Damn, do you think she got the message?” Davis wondered while be began cleaning up the mess. 

I, instead, began making another sandwich for Y/N, knowing she’d be here soon. “I fucking hope so. If not, then she’s probably testing me to see if I’d change my mind.” 

“But you won't, right?” 

I snorted. “Fat chance.”

Davis turned towards me, drying his hands on a towel. “So you broke up with Bailey. What’s the next step with Y/N?” 

“I need to talk to her first. There’s a lot we need to talk about,” I said while pulling out a cold can of Dr. Pepper from the fridge. 

“Hey, that’s the last one,” he exclaimed. 

I merely shrugged while setting a place at the kitchen table for Y/N. “It’s for Y/N.” 

Davis, as much as he tried to be upset, chuckled. “In all seriousness, Noah, you know we’re here to support you. We have your back.” 

I smiled at one of my best friends. “I know.” 

Just then a knock sounded on the front door and before Davis could answer it, I quickly closed the short distance and opened it with a smile; only for it to drop seeing Y/N standing on the other side with a frown. 

“What’s wrong?” I questioned while allowing her to step inside and led her to Davis’ kitchen. 

“Chase’s birthday is on Friday and the venue I booked for it just canceled on me. Something about a pipe bursting and the room is flooded,” she exasperated while falling into the chair at the table. 

“What are you going to do?” I questioned while sitting across from her. 

Davis joined us at the table, taking the coconut water from Y/N with a small smile. 

“Thankfully since they have to cancel, I get my deposit back but Malcolm is freaking out,” she waved her phone around. “We have two days to figure out somewhere new for this surprise party.” 

“You can have it at my place,” I suggested. 

Y/N took a long drink of her soda. “Are you sure? Don’t you think you should talk with the rest of the guys first?” 

I snatched a chip off her plate and shrugged. “They won’t mind.” 

“Sei un tesoro, mochi,” she patted my cheek. 

Davis choked on his drink and my eyes snapped over to him. “I don’t want to hear it!” 

He held up his hands. “I didn’t hear anything.”

Y/N smirked before taking the first bite of her sandwich and groaned. “Oh shit, this is good. No wonder you won, Noah.” 

With a prideful smirk, I motioned to the rest of her plate. “Finish up. I’ll call the guys and have them meet here and we can plan Chase’s party.” 

At one point, Davis left to take Max for a walk, leaving Y/N and I alone. We sat silently and enjoyed the world around us. This has taken a lifetime to learn. It seemed only the old could sit next to one another, not say anything, and still feel content. The young, brash, and impatient, must always break the silence. It’s a waste, for silence is pure. Silence is holy. It draws people together because only those who are comfortable with each other can sit without speaking. This is the great paradox.

“Oh, I never noticed the great view Davis has,” Y/N mused while pushing away her empty plate. 

Realizing it was almost time for the sun to set, I quickly cleaned up for her and motioned towards the back door. 

“Let’s go sit outside for a bit, yeah?” I suggested. 

READER

Noah and I sat comfortably on the patio bench, a blanket draped over both of our legs as we stared out at the vast greens of Davis’ backyard. The sky was painted in bright oranges with hints of pink and purple. Silently, I thought to myself that I should have brought my art supplies, noting this would be a beautiful experience to paint. 

The silence between Noah and I was comforting, something you don’t find all that often. People always needed to talk rather than just listen to the world around them. The way the birds chirped, the faint noises of evening traffic, or the sound of the wind as it blew a chilly breeze. 

“Angel?” 

I hummed while looking over towards Noah. 

He rubbed the back of his neck. “Is there-I don’t know-anything you really want besides music right now?”

“I want a studio, with giant canvas’, paint; just an art studio galore! I’ve gotten into the hobby and love it,” I answered with a bright smile. “I was even thinking of using some of my art for the album artwork. Just playing with ideas.”

Noah’s smile matched mine as he let his hair loose from the hair tie, letting it fall to his shoulders in waves. “I love that you found something else you’re so passionate about, angel.”

“I love painting. I really do,” I leaned farther back against the couch and rested my head against it. 

“So paint. You should do whatever your heart desires, Y/N.” 

“Thank you, mochi” I nudged him. 

Noah rested his head against the couch, inches away from mine as another thought came to mind. 

“You know,” I started with a long sigh. “When I was a kid, I would have given anything to be exactly like everybody else” 

“You wanted to be petty and dishonest?“ He joked.

“Not everyone is like that,” I defended with a shake of my head. 

“Yes they are,” Noah retorted back. “But not you. You’re not like that.” 

This had me sitting up straighter, Noah following me. “How do you know what I’m like?”

“I see you,” He shifted closer to me, hand brushing across my knee over the blanket. “I’ve seen you for a long time. You’re the most amazing person I’ve ever met”.

My heart beat widely in my chest, the noise deafening in my ears and I cleared my throat. 

“I think you are too. If I’m being honest, I think I’ve always sorta known that,” I admitted. 

“You know,” Noah’s hand rested on my knee. “With me bouncing between homes and couches growing up, I always thought I’d be alone. I’d never expected to have such an amazing group of friends.” 

“Sometimes maybe it’s better to be alone,” I shrugged while looking past his shoulder to an older couple watching in the neighborhood. 

“Why do you say that?”

I still kept my gaze off Noah, voice dropping low. “Nobody can hurt you.”

“Y/N,” Noah sighed and lifted my chin so I could meet his intense gaze. “I would never, ever hurt you.”

Those eyes. I’ve dreamed of those eyes almost every night since our first meeting so long ago. I won’t say I’m in love, not out loud, but I am. I came to terms with that a while ago. 

“I know, mochi,” I finally whispered. 

Noah’s thumb traced over my jawline. “I understand why it’s hard for you, Y/N. But know that when I’m with you, I don’t feel alone.”

That magnetic pull that always seemed to connect us with that invisible string made me lean closer to him needing his warmth to envelop me. 

“I’ve never had this instant connection with anyone. I know you understand it too,” he continued. 

With my continued silence, Noah sat up straighter but kept his grip on my chin. “Are you freaked out? Because not hearing you say anything kind of-.” 

“Noah- no,” I rested my hands on his chest. “I feel it too.” 

His hand grasped the back of my neck now, tilting my head up towards him, as we began to lead in closer, and when his warm breath fanned over my lips, I let my eyes flutter shut. 

“Hey guys-oh shit.” 

Quickly pushing away from Noah, I peered over my shoulder to see Malcolm leaning against the back door. 

“We’re all inside ready to talk about the party. Whenever you two decide to grace us,” Malcolm winked before slipping back inside. 

Clearing my throat, I let the realization sink in what Noah and I were about to do. He’s with Bailey and I was ready to kiss him. I’m not this kind of person but yet here I was again being caught between him and my conscious. Bailey, as intrusive as she was, didn’t deserve this. 

Noah tried to bring me back to him but I quickly stood up, giving us more space. 

“We can’t do this. Not again,” my hair shook widely around my shoulders. “It’s not fair to Bailey.” 

“I ended it.” 

I blinked. “Wha-Oh? You did?” 

As ecstatic as I was hearing this, I did my best to hide it. I didn’t want Noah to know inside I was jumping for fucking joy; like a kid on Christmas that received the toy they’d been wanting. 

Noah stood from the couch now, standing in front of me. “I think Bailey saw me as Noah on the big screen, not me the person and after everything at that dinner I just knew it was time.” 

“I’m-I’m sorry,” I stammered, not knowing what else to say. 

His brows furrowed. “Why? It wasn’t serious. There wasn’t that connection; like the one we have.” 

As my lips parted, it was Jesse now who interrupted us, taking a bite of the apple in his hand. “Are you guys coming or what?” 

Noah cursed while running a hand through his hair and I shakily pointed over his shoulder. 

“We should head inside. Talk about this party.” 

Not wanting to spend another second out here, afraid to finally give in to the thoughts that were screaming at me, I gently brushed past him to return inside.

GREEK TRANSLATIONS:

Koukla-doll

Kouklamou- my doll

“Giatí échei makriá malliá?”- Why does he have long hair?

"Eísai apísteftos"-you're unbelievable

ITALIAN TRANSLATIONS:

Sei un tesoro-you're a sweetheart.

#noah sebastian #noah sebastian and reader #noah sebastian x reader #noah sebastian reader insert #noah sebastian smut #enemies to lovers #right person wrong time #starcrossed lovers

[munson-blurbs]

Argyle x Fem!Reader smut

Summary: Your plans tonight only involve ordering a pizza, but a conversation with the pizza boy has you craving something very different.

Warnings: smut (18+ only, minors DNI), phone sex, masturbation (m! and f!), voice kink, Argyle is a simp as per usual

WC: 1.7k

A/N: This was inspired by me and @word-wytch ordering pizza at Steel City Con where the pizza boy did not want to get off of the phone. Nothing spicy happened, but it made us think...what if it had?

Also, big shout out to @munsonmuses for helping me with the ending. Love you, Addie!

--

“Surfer Boy Pizza, this is Argyle speaking. Can I interest you in a delicious pie? Perhaps the Argyle Special?”

You stare at the shiny brochure in your lap, breath catching in your throat when you hear his voice. You were expecting someone brusque, rushing you off of the line so they can collect the next order, but the man speaking to you might as well be laying on a white sand beach. 

“Um, h-hi,” you wince at the way you stammer, tempted to hang up and save yourself further embarrassment, but you keep the receiver pressed to your ear. Lenora Hills is a fresh start, a place where no one knows you, and you’re determined to spread your wings and become more than the ‘shy, awkward girl.’ So, even though you were going to order a small cheese pie, you push yourself to ask, “what’s the Argyle Special?”

Soft laughter trills from the speaker; it’s warm and welcoming without a hint of malice. “Oh, the Argyle Special? She’s kinda my baby.” Good lord, the way he says baby has your thighs clenching involuntarily. You hear him shuffling a bit, adjusting positions to get more comfortable. “So, we start out with your classic thin crust.” Argyle lowers his voice and adds, “You might think you can toss it in the air a coupla times and call it a day, but you’d be wrong. You gotta knead it, get all the kinks out, right?”

“Mhm.” Your free hand begins to dip below the waistband of your denim shorts before you pull back. What are you doing? Touching yourself to a stranger explaining how to make pizza? “I, uh, I gotta—”

“Next comes the sauce,” he continues, not noticing your interjection. “Now, less is definitely more here, y’know what I’m saying? A little goes a long way.”

You nod, too caught up in the moment to remember that he can’t see you. “A-And then what?”

“Cheese. Enough to achieve that perfect amount of gooey goodness, but not so much that it weighs down the slice.” Another peal of laughter, just as kind as the one earlier. “Some people ask for extra cheese, but in my humble opinion, it takes away from the rest of the toppings, y’know?”

There’s a quiet swishing sound coming from his end, and it draws your attention. “What’re you doing that’s making that noise?”

“Huh? Oh, uh, yo-yo.” Your question has clearly caught him off-guard; instead of further explaining his baby, he asks, “what’re you doing?”

Immediately, your thoughts flit to the way your fingers yearn to be inside you, the way your clit aches to be rubbed each time he talks. But he can’t know that. “N-Nothing. Um, yeah, nothing.”

You can practically hear his brows raise in disbelief. “Doesn’t sound like nothing,” Argyle teases gently. “In fact, it sounds like you’re doing something important.” He pauses for a second. “Lemme guess: top secret CIA mission?”

“No.”

“FBI?”

You giggle despite the embarrassment washing over you. “Not quite.”

There’s silence; his audible breathing is the only way you know he’s still on the line. “You got a really cute laugh.” 

Is he flirting? This is flirting; it has to be. But he doesn’t even know what you look like. 

You don’t know what he looks like, either, and you were about to masturbate to him, you remind yourself wryly. Anything’s possible. 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah. Sweet but also sexy. A rare combo, if you ask me.” 

You summon all of your courage; the ball is in your court. “I, um, I like your voice.” Heat pools in your cheeks as you say the words. 

“My voice? Shit, I always thought it was kinda goofy. My friend Jonathan says I sound like Cheech and Chong. Well, not, like, both of them, but just…one.” A rustling noise; he’s shaking his head. “Sorry, I’m not good with getting compliments and stuff.”

“S’okay. Me either.” You laugh again, finding the ability to be honest refreshing. “Keep telling me about your special. Your baby,” you amend. 

He exhales a cloud of lust. “Fuck, say ‘baby’ again.” Ah, so it had the same effect on him that it did on you. 

This time, you don’t chastise yourself for the way your fingertips graze your cotton panties. You and Argyle are clearly on the same page. Why fight it? “Tell me more about the Argyle Special, baby.”

“I gotta know first if you’re doing what I’m about to do,” he says breathily. 

“I am,” you affirm, finding your clit easily and applying the lightest pressure. 

A sharp inhale, then, just above a whisper, “Good. So, so good.” He unzips his fly and groans as his hand wraps around his cock. “I’m just gonna talk, and you keep touching yourself for me, okay?”

“Mhm. Just…keep going.”

“Shit, yeah, I got you.” Another moan as he strokes himself, his sentences getting choppier. “The toppings…I like to combine sweet and—mmf—savory.”

You tug your panties aside, slipping your middle finger into your waiting pussy. “Keep going,” you urge, desperate for his silky voice. 

“Some diced g-green pepper…sliced jalapeños…and…” Argyle’s focus is split between listing ingredients and jerking off, and one is evidently winning. 

“And what, baby?” There’s a slight edge to your tone—dare you say, a sultriness—as your ring finger joins your middle, fucking yourself with both of them. 

You’re not the only one who picks up on your newfound confidence. “And pineapple,” he manages. “Comes from a can…fuck, I can hear how wet you are.”

You whimper, forcing air into your lungs. Breathing has never been a manual task until right now. “It’s because of you.” Your fingers move faster; you curl them slightly to maximize your pleasure. “You and your voice.”

“I’d talk all goddamn day for you.” His voice is thick with desire. “I’d do anything you asked me to—oh, fuck,” he grunts. “What would you want me to do if I was with you right now?”

What wouldn’t you want him to do is an easier question, but you try to quickly formulate a response. “I-I’d want you to touch me.”

“More specific, honey,” he tuts. “Where do you want me touching you?”

Everywhere. Anywhere. You think about where your own hand would be if you weren’t holding the phone. “My clit,” you say urgently, “or my…my tits.”

“Mmm, I could put my mouth on one and my fingers on the—”

“No,” you insist, cutting him off mid-sentence. “Fingers only. Need to keep your mouth free so you can talk.”

A chuckle, then, “fair enough. Guess I’ll rub that pretty little clit of yours, huh? Make sure you’re ready f’me.” There’s a soft puh as he spits on his cock to lubricate it. “Wish I was inside of you. Bet you’re so wet…and warm…and—ohh, yeah— so tight…”

“I’m so close,” you whine, absolutely desperate for this orgasm. You tuck the phone between your ear and your shoulder, bring your newly-freed middle finger to your clitoris, now swollen with need. “Please, Argyle, tell me how you’d fuck me.”

“Oh, baby,” he rasps, the schlick of his fist stroking his erection becomes louder, faster. “I want you screaming my name. That sweet little pussy st-stuffed with my cock. And I’ll go deeper…and deeper…and deeper…until you can’t—fucking—take it!” He growls out the last four words. 

It’s enough to drive you to the edge. You don’t tell him you’re cumming, but he knows just from the choked moans that you’re there. Your fingers are shiny with the proof of your arousal as you finish all over them, wishing they belonged to Argyle. Wishing you belonged to Argyle. 

“I’m cumming, fucking shit, h-oh, my God.” He’s in another galaxy now, stars swirling around him as his release spurts from his aching tip and coats his hand in his sticky seed. “Holy fuckin’…whoa.” There’s a brief pause. “Gimme one sec, okay?”

Argyle’s racing across the kitchen, phone dangling from the cord, before you can even respond. “Sorry,” he says, panting and laughing when he returns to the receiver, “had to grab some paper towels and clean myself up. Can’t go walking around with jizz on my hands.” 

“Not a good look,” you agree, the warmth from your giggle melting any residual awkwardness. “You definitely need to wash them, like, a hundred times before you make another pizza.”

“Nah, man; I’m actually clocking out now. You were gonna be my last customer, but, uh…” he trails off, and it occurs to you that you never finished placing your order. “We got a little distracted.”

Distracted is putting it mildly, but you’re in no headspace for a semantics debate. “I guess I’ll have to call back the next time you’re working and try again.”

“Y-Yeah, for sure!” Eagerness dominates his tone, and he tries to rein it in. “Or, um, maybe you can come by in person? I’d like to see the girl who made me cum harder than I have since…ever,” he adds cheekily. 

“Mhm. I can do that.” Can you? Yes, you tell yourself, I can. I’m turning over a new leaf, and that apparently involves having phone sex with the pizza guy and then meeting him for the first time at his job. 

You swear you hear a quiet yet triumphant, “yes!” before he says, “You sure? Because I’d totally get it if you wanted to keep this a one-time thing.” His hesitation indicates that he’s no stranger to unrequited pining, like he’s bracing himself for a rejection. “But I gotta be honest with you; I really wanna see you.”

“I wanna see you, too.” You wrap the springy cord around your forefinger. If his voice could make you feel this way, imagine what he could do with his fingers, his tongue, his…

“I work from noon until six tomorrow, if you wanna stop in?” Argyle cuts into your train of thought. “Or if that’s too soon, then we can just—”

“Argyle?”

“Yeah?”

You smile widely even though there’s no way for him to know that. “See you at six tomorrow.”

--

#argyle stranger things #argyle smut #argyle imagine #argyle x y/n #argyle #argyle x female reader #argyle x fem!reader #argyle x reader #argyle x you #stranger things #stranger things fanfic #fanfic #argyle fanfic #smut

[spicyicetea]

My dearest soulmate

So some people wanted a Ganondorf version of my Calamity!reader so I'm finally writing it, enjoy.

An old proverb. Oral legend passed down through the Gerudo families for centuries. Their king, who is only born every century, and his fated love. Many reject this as the truth. Their desire for the king to be free to conquer Hyrule is so strong that they hide the legend. One slip up is all it took for all that work to come undone.

"What did you say?" The King's voice boomed, demanding and harsh.

The servant quivered in fear as her friend stepped forward to explain.

"We were just speaking about an old story we heard from our mothers as children my king. Our apologies for angering you."

"What story? The beginning was similar to an old legend I have read about, this may be the end of what I desire to learn!" He grins, staring down at them.

The shortest woman gulped and began to recite the story as she remembered it,

"Once every 100 years, a king will be born into the Gerudo royal family. He shall bring forth an era of change and power to the Gerudo people. This legendary king will fall victim to a knight chosen by the Sword that seals the darkness. A cycle of pain that can only be broken through union of the king and the Lady of Calamity."

"Lady of Calamity? I haven't yet heard this part of my legend." "Yes... this has been ignored as the Gerudo people of the past could never find her and assumed she didn't exist."

"Well, if she is what I require to win, than we shall find her. Prepare the army, we do not sleep until that woman is found!" The King yelled, walking off to arm himself.

---POV CHANGE---

It was a normal day for the young elven woman. The dark bubbling malice followed her feet padding along the grass through the forest. Her home. She had no choice but to hide from the village people she once regarded as family who exiled her once her powers had emerged. An ancient legend caused her to be thrown to the wolves by her former friends, although it did mean she would avoid execution. Words uttered by Hylians of old had doomed her to a life of solitary suffering unless she succumbed to the fate the world had set for her. But, she would never. Why in the world would she throw herself into the arms of pure and utter evil. Ganondorf. Her soulmate.

Although she had never met him, obviously, the tales of the crimes he had committed against her kind made her fear the man. She herself knew she was far from weak, the malice that follows her beck and call protects her well enough. Yet, she was apparently, his win condition for his atrocities. Just because her people betrayed her, doesn't mean she will betray them.

A dense unsettling air settled over the forest. Y/N felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand up as she glanced around the trees cautiously. An arrow whizzed by her face and she jumped back, falling down as a heavy foot was brought down on her chest.

"Stay down Hylian!" The Gerudo woman commanded. "We look for the Lady of Calamity, have you heard that name? Many say she's as tall as us Gerudo and as strong as a Lynel."

Y/N felt her breath catch in her throat. Perhaps she could hide who she was by lying and going along with the rumors they had heard. Yes, that's a great way to escape!

"Ah, yes! She resides in a nearby village. She protects them from monster attacks." She said hurried in a soft voice.

The Gerudo woman nodded and removed her foot from Y/N's chest. She sat up and held the aching ribs, the pain soon dissipating from fear. An intense wave of nausea overcame her as a strange smell filled her nose. The hot desert sand, Warm Saffina oil and a faint dizzying musk. Her vision shook as she lent down, wiping sweat from her brow.

On the other side of the thick treeline the Gerudo King was having a similar struggle. His head became clouded with the strange pounding of his heart, echoing through his body. The fresh scent of the forest was pierced by a sinful sweet smell. Every step he took, following the scent made him feel as if he was going to collapse. His warriors followed him as he made his way past the trees, staring directly at the meek woman on the floor.

"Lord Ganondorf, are you alright?"

"Stay away," The woman groaned. "I haven't fought for so long to lose to you now, you beast."

"Do not speak to the King like that," One of the warriors yelled, but was silenced as Ganondorf chuckled.

"Look at me woman, where is she?"

"where is who? I do not know the woman you seek! Leave me be!" She growls, ripping at the grass beneath her hands to stay calm.

Ganondorf just chuckles darkly, standing over the woman.

"I know she is here, my wife, my queen to be. Now where does she hide?"

"Nowhere! I live alone in these woods, I do not know the woman you seek. I have never seen a single woman around these parts as tall as any of you!" She declared in rush.

"You're lying, I can sense her!" The King yelled yanking her up by her arm to finally look at him.

The moments their eyes locked he could feel himself fall apart. Her lashes shielded most of her eyes from his gaze, yet the iris' he could see filled him with a strange sensation. Y/N felt her knees buckle and immediately fall apart as he grabbed her, a dull heat drumming where he had made contact, as well as forming deep knots in her abdomen. Her lips parted as she panted, a strange heat settling over the two despite the chill winds in the forest. Ganondorf felt his body begin to hunger for the small woman, noticing the malice prepared to catch her should he drop her. Although, he didn't plan to. Lust. That described the immense, powerful sensation that was taking over his mind. An unstoppable, violent desire to part her thighs and control her small form. His people would worship her, similar to how he already did. She stared up at him in fear, his mind still caught in a trance.

"Ganondorf?" She muttered, worried he would kill her then and there.

The small whimpers just inspired more sinful desires. For her to scream his name into the cold desert nights to consummate their marriage, only his body heat to warm her small, fragile form. Months later for her to have the Gerudo guards at her beck and call as she relaxed in their bed, plump with his young. Years later small red-headed children running around her legs as she carried their youngest child, greeting him back from a battle. Yes, it was all perfect. He would conquer Hyrule for her. For his wife.

I hope you sinners enjoyed that, I know I did. I'm gonna tag those who I saw asking for it so they get notifs. If you like this then go check out my other pieces of writing! Thanks and bye!

Tagged: @professor-petty @simp-erman @kujogoofzeus

#legend of zelda botw #legend of zelda tears of the kingdom #legend of zelda breath of the wild #legend of zelda x reader #x reader #yandere x reader #legend of zelda fanfiction #ganondorf x reader #ganondorf #ganon #yandere #soulmates

[blue-slxt]

Kinktober 31

🔞Minors Do Not Interact🔞

Kinktober Masterlist

A/N: Happy Halloween! We've reached the end of Kinktober! It's such a bittersweet feeling. But I'm so happy with the turn out and with all the love that you guys have shown over this past month! Writing all these prompts took a lot out of me so I'll probably take a short smut break after this. I'll still be writing in the background, but I want to branch out and do more fluff pieces and other things too. But best believe, the smut WILL be back shortly. Anyways, thank you guys for everything and I hope you guys enjoy this! I wrote this with the understanding that female Alphas have a knot inside of them and Omega males have the sheathed penis. You can find out more in this post. So just keep that in mind! I was partially inspired by the fic Howling For You by @theblueflower05 (It's one of my faves and I highly recommend it!) All characters are aged up.

Pairing: Omega!Lo'ak x Alpha!Fem!Metkayina!Reader

Warnings: Smut, P in V, Oral (M receiving), Scenting, Knotting, Creampie, Mentions of Anal, ABO, Territorial Reader

Almost everything about your attitude was all Alpha. You stood proud and strong. A self-assured, commanding presence in any situation you were in. You could be aggressive at times, but never out of any sense of malice or superiority. It was simply your nature. A pure, red-blooded Alpha in every sense. Almost.

The one thing about you that was a bit different. You had a certain…affinity for soft things. You kept your marui lined with the softest fabrics that hands could weave. Lush blankets and delicate tapestries. You loved the feeling of the plush sand beneath your feet and the sound of soft early morning waves wading into the shore. But what you loved the best? Soft moans and whimpers from soft boys in the domineering grip of your hips.

Soft Omega boys set your heart on fire in a way that was incomparable. You knew you couldn’t be with another Alpha. Not because Alpha-Alpha relationships didn't happen, but because you were too stubborn and proud to let someone try to dominate you. But something about Omega boys was just so enticing to your senses.

So when you first set eyes on Lo’ak, you immediately wanted to devour him whole. Maybe it was his scent that smelled like fresh fallen forest rain on exotic flower petals and tree bark. Or maybe it was his foreign, tawtute features that others outcast him for which made him seem more vulnerable. Or maybe it was the instant images that your mind conjured of his slim build trapped between the toned muscle of your thighs. Whatever it was, you just knew you had to have him and you would bare your fangs at anyone that dared to try and stand in your way.

You were straightforward in your approach with Lo’ak. Immediately, you approached him with all your confidence offering him an arm band that you had made to match the beads in his braids. You circled him slowly appraising and appreciating his deep royal blue skin and lean muscles. You take the chance to subtly sneak a whiff of his scent and Eywa, your mouth nearly starts to water.

“See you around, sayrìp” you said lightly dragging your tail across his thigh as you walked past him. And from that moment on, Lo’ak may as well have been a fish caught in your undercurrent. He started trailing after you everywhere like an ilu pup follows its mother.

He could be brash and rough around the edges when it came to getting along with other males in the clan. Namely, Ao’nung and his crew. But he was all velvet when it came to you. Always soft murmurs in your ear on the mornings he would find himself waking in your marui. Burying his face in your chest nuzzling his nose at your soft skin. Feather-light kisses he’d press against your neck that would turn into hands exploring down the front of your body lower and lower.

And you could be…territorial. A credit to your nature, you would turn over still half asleep and bury your face into the crook of his neck scenting him in the early hours of the day. Rubbing your own scent all over him. You had this inexplicable need to have him wear your scent at any and all times. Completely bathe him in it to ward off any other Alphas that would be stupid enough to try and move in on your precious lover. You wanted to mark him in every way and he would let you.

Today’s been particularly grating for you. Your hunt was less than fruitful. One of your favorite necklaces broke sending beads flying all over the beach. And worst of all, you saw another female looking at Lo’ak; trying to get close to him. That won’t do. Not today. Not ever. Of course, the second she locked eyes with you, she rolled her eyes in annoyance and left with a huff. She should count herself lucky that you left her with eyes to roll.

Deep breaths are supposed to be calming for the mind, but right now, they are doing little to quell the fire in your chest. Nevertheless, you put on your best face when you approach Lo’ak. Before you even reach him, he already picked up on your scent and turns in your direction. His arms reach out to you as he walks over.

“I missed you, babe. Are you done with all your tasks for the day?” he asks with his slim tail swaying giddily back and forth behind him.

The human nickname rolls off his tongue so effortlessly and it never fails to make your stomach flip. You think he is truly too good for this world as you walk into his waiting embrace.

“Something like that. It has been a really long day. Can we just go home?” you say rubbing your face into his chest while his arms fold around you and he kisses the top of your head.

“Of course.”

Lo’ak can tell on the walk back to your marui that something is bothering you. He knows you well enough by now to know that your tail only flicks like that when something is heavy on your mind. However, he also knows you well enough by now to know better than to try and make you talk about it before you’re ready.

When you reach your marui, you secure the flap over the opening to give you both some privacy. “Lo’ak, I have a problem.” You say with a small voice that definitely doesn’t fit you.

He cocks one of his brows at you waiting for you to elaborate. He watches you cautiously as you stalk closer to him.

“You see, even though everyone knows that I intend to take you as my mate, other girls are still looking at you. Trying to get close enough to smell you when I’m not around…”

Your voice gets stronger with each step closer you take. “Even though you lay with me every night and it is my gifts that you wear and my scent that lives in your skin, it’s not enough…” Your body finally presses right up against his and you keep moving forward, pushing him back against a post. His eyebrows and ears are raised looking down at you. Despite the slight height difference between you, when you get like this, it makes his breath tremble in his throat.

“Yawne, you know I--”

He’s cut off by the feeling of your fingers ghosting over his tewng and lightly tracing over where his dick was still sheathed.

“See, Lo, I really really hate it when others are trying to move in on what’s mine…I’m just bad at sharing in that way…” your long, nimble fingers make quick work of undoing the tie on his tewng and letting it fall leaving him bare in front of you. You slowly sink to your knees holding his gaze the whole way down. You tease at his slit with a quick lick from your tongue making him gasp.

“You already know I’m only yours, yawne.” He says with a quiver in his voice that has your body heating up.

“Oh, of course I do, my love. But I need everyone else to know it, too. So tonight, you can be as loud as you want to be. As a matter of fact, I want you to be.” You say teasing him even more with your mouth until his cock is fully exposed and standing proud in front of your face. Your eyes nearly cross with it coming to its full glory aimed straight at your lips.

A smirk plays on your lips looking up at him.

“Eager for me to mark you? Does the idea of it turn you on, sweet boy?” you tease with kitten licks to the tip of his dick and he flinches turning his head away from you.

“Look at me.” Your voice is firm and commanding. He doesn’t dare to defy you when you give him a direct order. His eyes meet yours in a fiery tug-of-war that you easily win when his expression softens. Fuck.

In no time at all, you suck his entire length into your throat and the shudder that racks his body is probably one of your favorite things to witness. Every suck and slurp is met with another beautiful whine or whimper from his mouth. It drives you and your need to ruin him. You keep your tongue pressed firmly to the underside of his cock and apply light pressure just the way you know he loves. His head lolls back against the post and his fingers claw at the wood looking for something to ground himself with.

Hushed whispers of pleas for more appear in the back of your head. You bob your head faster looking up at him and watch his face scrunch in pleasure while you work on him. You sneak a hand up and under to cup his balls and give a gentle squeeze and Lo’ak sucks in a sharp breath between his clenched teeth. His hips buck into your face and chase the warmth of your mouth. You loved watching him lose his composure and take what he needed from you. Watching him be so needy for release that he can’t bring himself to care about his position as an Omega and just fuck you with wild abandon was so damn sexy. You could practically feel the slick running down your inner thighs.

Hallowing out your cheeks, you can feel every ridge and vein drag against your mouth. Lo’ak starts to lose it, letting his hips jut forward and meet your movements.

“Ah…fuck” he curses under his breath watching you so eagerly take his whole length into your mouth.

You steady yourself against him and push his dick all the way into your throat until your nose is flush with his pelvis. You lightly stroke your finger up and down the underside of his balls and his face screws up in lust as his climax tears through his core.

“Haaah-ah!” His hands reflexively hold on to your hair keeping you in place for his cum to run down your throat. It coats your throat and makes you gag around him, but the sound only drags out the feeling for him.

When he releases you, you come up for air and his body falls back against the post. His legs just barely have the strength to keep him upright. “Satisfied?” he pants out to you with a grin.

You meet his expression with a mischievous smirk, “Not even close”.

You rise to your feet already untying your own tewng to discard it somewhere across the floor. Lying down on your plush sleep mat, your knees fall open and your fingers spread your slick-covered cunt open for him.

Lo’ak feels like he should be embarrassed at how quickly he’s hard again, but how can he bring himself to care about that when you’re lying there sprawled open for him in silent invitation? He’s pulled to you as if he was entranced by you and your scent. Your grin is devilish in watching him resign himself to his desires. His hips slot right into place between your thighs and he’s already dragging his tip between your folds and brushing against your swollen clit.  

He lightly slaps the little nub with his dick making your hips jump and an arrogant grin finds its way onto his face.

“Lo’ak…” it’s meant as a warning, but Lo’ak takes it as a challenge.

“What’s wrong, yawne? I thought you liked being teased.”

He wasn’t wrong. You did like it when he teased you. Putting a bit of power in his hands and stroking his ego made your head feel fuzzy with pleasure. But with the kind of day you’d had, you were feeling especially impatient. Your fingers hook under his necklace and pull his face closer into yours. You can hear how his breath stutters and you see how his half lidded gaze dances around your face, lingering at your lips.

“I need this, Lo’ak.”

He smiles gently leaning forward to crash his lips onto yours. The taste of him still fresh in your mouth and it makes even more blood rush straight to his cock that was slowly breaching you. You both moan into each other’s mouths savoring the feeling of your warmth almost literally sucking him in. It’s almost as if your body won’t be satisfied until you’ve completely enveloped him into your skin.

He starts a steady pace of long, strong strokes making you feel every vein and ridge of him. His tip presses perfectly into the spongey part of your walls as he drags it almost all the way out, only to kiss your cervix when he presses back inside.

“Ohh…fuck…” your head falls back reveling in the feeling of the first real sense of relief you’ve had all day. Lo’ak takes the opportunity to litter your neck in kisses, licks, and nips. You smile deliriously to yourself as you let this beautiful man fulfill his fantasies with your body. His breath is hot and uneven against your skin as his pace picks up. The sound of skin slapping against skin gets louder the faster he goes.

Your hands claw at his back holding him close to you. The scent of his pheromones gets stronger in your nose making your eyes roll. His hands grab your legs by the backs of your knees and holds them open so he can angle his hips the way he knows you love.

“Ah! Right there! Feels so good right there!”

“Mmm, I love fucking you like this, sevin. Feel so perfect on my cock.”

Your face scrunches and you can feel your knot beginning to swell inside you. He groans above you feeling his tip meet the resistance and he tries eagerly to push past it and let you have him wholly.

“Oh, Great Mother! I’m going to cum, Lo’ak!” your voice is loud and his groans are even louder. Surely anyone in the vicinity would hear you and know, but that’s exactly what you wanted. Your hands find his face so that you can capture his lips in another kiss. It’s a messy clashing of teeth and tongues, but full of a desperation that has your pussy clenching harder around him. His strokes get longer and he puts his full weight behind every one, finally pushing past the resistance of your knot and tipping you over that edge.

“Ahhn~ Lo’ak!”

He keeps rolling his hips into you as he reaches his own release and you milk him dry.

Both of you huff out breaths trying to steady your own breathing. Sweat beads start to form on his forehead and his eyebrows are scrunched together feeling how your knot won’t let up on his poor sensitive cock. His head falls to lay on your chest and his eyes close trying to stop the spinning in his head. You stroke his head lovingly eliciting soft purrs from him.

Days later, you stand with Lo’ak and his siblings around the fire at communal dinner celebrating the first hunt of the season. Neteyam and his mate are retelling the story of one of their warrior students and how they taught him to make a clean kill when a sudden chill runs down your spine.

“Hi, Lo’ak” the most aggravating voice you’ve ever heard calls to your boyfriend beside you. You both turn to find Nìvya, the other Alpha that you caught looking at Lo’ak the other day. She completely disregards your presence despite standing right next to him.

“Would you like to dance with me?”

She’s either extremely bold or extremely stupid. Either way, you are ready to rip her throat out with your teeth when you let off a low hiss in her direction. The only thing that saves her is Lo’ak placing a gentle hand on your waist to calm you.

“Thanks, but no thank you. I’m fine where I am. Isn’t that right, yawne?” He says burying his face into the crook of your neck sweetly.

You smile while you cut your eyes at her in warning. Nìvya’s face falls and she finally acknowledges your presence by looking at you. She rolls her eyes bitterly and stomps off in the direction that she came.

Your tail swishes happily behind you, pleased with how Lo’ak handled himself in the situation. You turn your head to look at him with a satisfied grin.

“What?” he asks seeing the gears turning in your head.

“You’re so sexy when you claim me, you know that?” you whisper to him dragging your fingertips down his chest in teasing touches and pausing right above his tewng. “You wanna get out of here?”

He chuckles lightly, “What about the rest of the party?”

You push up on your tiptoes so that you can whisper directly into his ear, “I’ll let you put it in the other hole this time.”

Lo’ak’s face is completely flushed all over when you pull away to look at him again. His tail is thrashing violently behind him and his ears are standing straight up.

Clearly excited by your proposal, he quickly turns to your group and excuses the two of you. “Too much to drink and ready to turn in” was what he said.

Nobody was buying it, though. Everybody knew that Lo’ak could out-drink anybody there. But no one was going to call him out on it.

Wild giggles erupt from you when he gleefully scoops you up into his arms and sets off into the direction of your marui.

Kinktober Taglist: @pandoraslxna @ashlatano7567 @sincerelykaib @jamies-wh0re @quaritchsluts @jakescumdump @delacruzyari @onlyloaksgf @skywonder @taintedlovesworld @myloveforyouisforever @angie-1306 @moodays @childofgod-05 @hadesbabygurl @daddysmurfslefttoenail @loaksulluyswife @y4sm1nsstuff @thewhiltedpeony @lovefrommeelise @neteyamssyulang @rosyjn @imintoomanyfandomscuzihaveadhd @anaclaudiasugar @xxwelshqueenxx @hania11 @xylianasblog @idkanymoregirl @eyrina-avatar @biscuitsaredelish @quinn-sadilla @the_mourning_moon @eyweveng @puddleswimmingnerd-blog @xaxsir @jakesullyfatjuicypeen @navilover24 @sulieykte @iameatingmyhair @leaveitbythewave @ntymavtr @fifilynn16 @kiri-tuk @mstocky78 @neteyamyawne @randumfanfics @sliqeramx @bluewonder @the-morning-moon @nerdfacesposts @vip-btxch @neteyamsyawntu @teyamsatan @narwhal-swimmingintheocean @dixonjunkie

(If your tag isn't working, please check your settings.)

#avatar #avatar the way of water #awow #avatar smut #avatar fic #lo'ak #loak #loak x reader #loak smut #loak sully #atwow loak #loak fic #avatar loak #loak fanfiction #avatar twow #atwow #omegaverse #omega loak #abo au #lunaskinktober2023

[raeofsunrise]

this is me trying ☆ finnick odair x gn. reader

summary: finnick odair was something you trusted. and there were only two things you trusted. him, and the ocean. but finnick wasn’t like the ocean. he wouldn’t come back after pulling away.

warnings: ANGST, i really dk how i feel about this, reader has self doubt issues, flashbacks, fear of being led on, no comfort, victor finnick, finnick going to the capitol, no use of y/n, anything else that might count as a warning

646 words

~ ・ ☆ ~ ・

he was a fire. a fire that could keep your heart warm. and at first you thought that this could last. of course you were skeptical, he was known as this total womanizer, someone who would lure you in then leave you picking up the pieces of your heart. but you trusted him. he assured you so many times that what you saw on tv wasn’t who he was. and you believed him. whether it was for your own reassurance or his was up to debate.

walking with him made you feel like you did something so amazing in your last lifetime to deserve this. to deserve this person next to you, who swore he loved you so dearly.

—————

you two didn’t really have a backstory. of course, you knew of him. who in their right minds didn’t know who finnick odair was? you just thought he didn’t know who you were. but those lingering stares at the market, or whenever he came up to talk to you at your stall selling this week’s catch, there was always some sort of underlying tone. no malice, or anything like that. just something that your brain couldn’t pinpoint. but your heart certainly could.

“good morning, finnick. what can i do you for today?” you asked. it was like this every morning.

he would say something flirty, like “let’s see…what time are you free for dinner?”

and you would laugh, because he obviously didn’t mean it. and he’d laugh, a laugh that you could recognize anywhere, even if he became a stranger, because you were so in your head that he could see right through you, see everything you were thinking.

until one day, you responded with “eight o’clock?”

and he showed up at your house exactly at eight, flowers in hand and that haunting smile.

—————

you let him in, and he knew he won. maybe it was your fault. you’d been so self-destructive and selfish that you scared him off. you were so ahead of the curve, the curve became a sphere.

—————

there was a knock on your door. unusual for this time of night, but you welcomed it. you opened the door, and standing there was finnick.

“finnick? i thought you were in the capitol tonight?” you asked, confused. he left last night, telling you he’d be gone for a couple days. you didn’t mind. you understood that there were, for lack of a better word, duties that came with being victor.

he looked distressed. something you don’t see on his face very often. this combined with his early arrival back to district four made you nervous.

“is something wrong? do you need to come in?”

he gave a tight-lipped smile and nodded. “yeah.”

his attitude was off, too. something in you told you that this wasn’t going to end well.

you led him to your couch, where you both sat down.

you started talking, but he cut you off.

“look, i’m gonna make this quick. i don’t think we can be together.”

—————

the conversation didn’t go very far after that. till this day, you pondered what you did wrong. he wouldn’t tell you. and after he ended his relationship with you, he moved onto the next person, and the person after that.

you could tell there was something that he wasn’t telling you. you assumed it was something about yourself, the reason why he isn’t sitting next to you on the sand right now. maybe you’d never find out. the one thing you could do was let go.

and maybe, just maybe, you could find peace.

—————

hii! im back from my disappearance. this is my first time writing angst so please leave feedback!! it’s greatly appreciated. thank you so much for being so kind and understanding and patient. also could you tell i wrote this to this is me trying by taylor swift?

#finnick odair #finnick odair x reader #finnick odair angst #sam claflin #the hunger games #sunrise writes

[sunboki]

— START TO FINISH a Han Jisung fiction

🧸 : Han Jisung x implied! fem. reader

TROPE. enemies to lovers, forced friendship, friends to lovers, angst, fluff

WORD COUNT. 6.2k ☆ 31 minute read

WARNINGS. lots of cursing, underage drinking(reader & han are 18, legal drinking age in korea is 19), making up, reader punches someone

AUG'S NOTES. i know i know, after so long the fic is finally here!(thank goodness) and i just remembered how @geneziesm was excited for this back in.. february?? so apologies for the wait sweetness, hope you don’t mind that i changed our love interest from changbin to jisung :’) btw, the cabin they’re staying in looks like this

PLAYLIST.

SYNOPSIS. From start to finish. That’s how you ended things with Han Jisung, starting with your fist balled up and ending with a slam right to his cheek. Or so you hoped. “I mean, they’re just kids, what could they do?” Was what both of your parents said as they spoke over the phone without you knowing. Without either of you knowing you learned later on, luggage in hand as you stared at the dangling road sign beside the cabin’s entrance. Gangwon Cabin, the place you’d be occupying with Han Jisung, your mortal enemy, for two months. It could be worse.. right? No. This was the worst it could be.

or alternatively :

Two months ago you were certain you’d hate Han Jisung forever, but what about now?

You’re. Fucking. Kidding me.

"You take one step into this room and I cut off every limb attached to your body, understood?" Is what you hissed at the boy who looked too smug standing in front of you.

"Awe, aren’t you just the sweetest?"

"Better yet, I could cut off your tongue."

"The more the merrier." He stuck out his tongue connivingly, earning a hard slam of the door right in the face.

You don’t care if you have to slam that door a billion more times to escape from him, you’d do it in a heartbeat.

Your only priority for these two months? Avoid Han Jisung at all costs.

Han Jisung is the boy that ate sand as a kid. You’re sure of it.

You’ve convinced yourself he somehow ate enough sand to where it creeped up into his brain and made him into a complete asshole for the rest of his life. A shame, really.

You didn’t know if that was true or not —though you wouldn’t be surprised if it was— but the theory served as a decent explanation of why he acted like an absolute piece of shit… For the most part.

Honestly, the hatred was sort of mutual. If you define mutual as in unspoken glares across the classroom and his malice-filled smile glittering right back at you, then yeah, mutual.

Starting from the moment you stepped into Mr. Jeong’s class and took your seat beside him, a blazing electric bolt strung itself between you two. And despite being unsure why, the bolt grew stronger without sign of stopping, alighting hatred and dislike.

Was it fair carrying the burning grudge? Not at all, but if Han Jisung kept egging you on like he always did, it would stay that way.

Except what was once anger noticed by only you quickly escalated into heated, gas-lit arguments the entire school heard—because Han Jisung found the perfect timing every time. Heavy on the sarcasm.

Best example? You had utterly bombed your chemistry midterm, one you tirelessly studied for as well when a shadow loomed over your desk belonging to none other than the Devil’s offspring himself (if you guessed anyone other than Han Jisung, you’re dead wrong).

"I wouldn’t recommend crying in class, but that grade is pretty shitty so if you need a shoulder, I've gotcha sweetheart." He cockily pats his shoulder while sending you a wink, and you couldn’t believe someone would so blatantly ask for a broken nose, yet here you are.

Trust that your list of reasons to plan a burial for the seat-mate goes on as long as you breathe.

And apparently, whatever chemical reaction you’d fucked up during the exam turned out to be highly explosive on a Friday afternoon, unfortunately without the addition of Han’s broken nose. You were close though.

That day he picked. Picked and picked and picked enough that your fist found itself smashed against his jaw, the boy’s hand immediately coming up to shield the wound. Instantaneously, the classroom became noiseless apart from the sound of blood pumping in your ears and Jisung’s heavy breathing.

"Han Jisung, Ln Yn, go to the office. Now!" Mr. Jeong called from the doorway, noticeably out of breath from his brambled hair and glasses askew upon his nose.

The customary lecture about how you should "never resort to violence" was nothing new for the both of you, Counselor Kim’s furious tapping of her foot reflecting the glare she burned your way. From the other side of the room Han sat on the patient-bed, a bandage sized to his cheek covering where you’d unapologetically swung all your frustration. You had zero remorse and would continue to have zero remorse. Forever.

"For the love of god what are you two standing there for?! Apologize. This. Instant!" And with the final crack in her flaming attitude she stomped out the door, fanatically shaking her head with dismay.

Ravaging every advantage, you sauntered towards the boy, releasing a heavy sigh just to announce your 'sincerity' first and foremost. Now was prime time to sugar him up, and you’d be sure not to take it for granted.

Stepping forward, you lift your head to deliver a faux smile.

"I’m so sorry for everything I’ve ever done to you leading up to this, especially after punching you in a spot that won’t heal for a long time because you never deserved that and most definitely did nothing wrong." Delighted to finally be pushing his buttons just as he did yours, you plaster the most guilty expression you can manage, voice dripping with lies.

Jisung breathes a rather bored sigh.

"Nice try."

Geesh, he’s exasperating. Take a hit for once, why don’t you.

"You want me to pray for your forgiveness or what?" Managing to omit the derogatory nickname attached to your sentence, you spare a hasty glance at Ms. Choi, the nurse who every other male at the school had a crush on. She types into her laptop at an alarming pace—fortunately either ignoring or oblivious to your brewing cat-fight.

The boredom appears to leave him instantly for a reason you couldn’t guess. Regardless, you knew it meant bad news.

Exasperating. He is unbearably exasperating.

"'Didn’t think you were that in love with me, but no. I want you to give me a kiss," Using the hand he’d previously ran through his hair, he pointed to his cheek. "Right here."

Is no one else hearing this? He’s not serious .. right? And why are your hands sweaty?

"Bullshit."

Aha, there’s the usual Oxford graduate vocabulary. Let’s hope Ms. Choi didn’t hear anything.

"Sadly. Worth a try though." Jisung deflates, swinging his legs around aimlessly. He’s daring from a point you can’t figure out. His inability to piss you off is easy to discover, but there’s something else there—a word your finger keeps skipping over.

Then suddenly, in the midst of observing your lost-in-thought expression, he piques with realization. By the time you notice, all your earlier remorse voluntarily throws itself out the window. Not that there was any remorse anyway. Definitely.

"Wait- don’t tell me you’re actually going to apologize, hold on I need to record this—"

"SHUT UP! I’m leaving, have a good evening Ms. Choi." The poor woman jumped out of her skin, shakily bowing farewell as you stormed from the infirmary, seething rage billowing out both ears.

Your walk home lasted much longer than usual, probably because you didn’t even want to step foot on the property; wanted to savor every moment of fresh air before seeing your parents in their fury glittering glory.

Unbeknownst to you, they’d already gotten the call—four hours ago, to be exact. Though you didn’t realize that’s how long you’d been procrastinating, and neither did Han Jisung, who was doing the same thing.

Except while you walked around killing time, he occupied a swing at the old neighborhood playground, humming a tune to himself.

So as you turned the corner, the last person you expected to be there was there, seeming quite aloof as he gazed off into the distance.

"What’re you doing?"

You swore he leaped a solid foot into the air, hand frantically clutched to his chest as if you were the doctor telling him he wasn’t allowed to jack off anymore.

"Jesus! You scared me. I should ask you the same thing," Han grumbled, lips pulled into a taut pout.

This momentary peacefulness, or whatever isn’t hostility occupying the space between you is gross considering you’d socked him mere hours earlier, still able to make out the light bruising scattered along his jaw.

You kick off some of the mulch lingering atop your shoelaces. "Procrastinating going home, you?"

Laughing bitterly, Han settles back into the swing. "I guess that’s something we can agree on," He says, causing you to sort of falter.

Sadness lingers in his tone and you can’t decipher it, not when your average Han Jisung would be rearing to tease you. Instead, he remains quiet enough that when your phone buzzes in your pocket, you flinch.

"I’ve gotta go. This is the eighteenth time she’s called, I wish I was joking." You breathe through your nose, staring at your mom’s number flickering atop the screen.

Why you even dismissed yourself you don’t know. It was Han Jisung, why did you bother? You should’ve acted spiteful and left him at that. But you couldn’t. Not when he seemed so.. miserable. You staved down the gnawing guilt.

"What color do you want to wear in your casket, I’ll be sure to tell your parents."

Well there goes any chance of being nice.

"I hate you," You automatically snarl, spewing those words as if they had no weight anymore.

Looks like everything is back to normal, for now.

Currently standing at the doorstep, you thought back to all the excuses you’d used in the past and which one seemed suitable this time around. Which one would, hopefully, secure your life for another day.

There’s the truly heroic "he was insulting you guys! Saying you didn’t raise me right!" that would earn a bit of sympathy, or maybe you could even go bigger and say he was threatening to rob you and— the door opened. Shit.

"Come in! Tell me about your day at school." Your mother, strangely enough, smiled.

Okay. What the fuck is going on. Where’s the berating and disowning threat, seriously.

"Aren’t you mad?" You skittishly ask, only receiving a swift jerk of her head signaling for you to come in.

Hence, you tentatively, like an ax would strike you at any moment, obediently tip-toe into the living room, glancing around cautiously.

She finds her spot on the couch beside your dad and you nonchalantly shift a good distance from the two, just to be safe.

Who knows, perhaps they’d planned collaborative man-slaughter.

"Oh no, we’re livid, but we talked about it and have a fantastic idea that we’re sure will help!" Help what, you’re not sure. All you know is that this cannot possibly end well. 

Your ungodly hour wake up was the first unfortunate event, basically being shoved into the car to who knows where and before you knew it, the sunlight illuminating the road in front of you became shrouded with shadows of tall alpines looming overhead. They spared no hint as to what their "fantastic idea" was yesterday, so the jury ruling your case as a third-degree murder was only something you could wonder from the backseat. Something you could wonder for a long, long time.

Thankfully, decades later, the vehicle eventually came to a halt and your parents wasted no time shoving you just as easily as they did into the car, outside of the car. Adjusting to the brightness, you find yourself facing a building only definable as a cabin from the wooden exterior and forest surroundings.

A creative collaborative homicide, definitely.

"We’re here~" Your mom calls from the passenger seat, helping unload stuffed suitcases from the trunk.

Suitcases. Lovely.

Alright, staying here for a while doesn’t sound too bad aside from the feeding yourself part. Yogiyo Food Delivery could find their way here, surely. You’d just have to give a generous tip, that’s all.

Clapping her hands together a little too excitedly, the woman pats your shoulder, gesturing to the abundant amount of luggage your dad heaved to the entrance, or wherever the rickety door leads.

Hold on, whose car is that parked beside yours?

Almost like she read your mind, her brows lift cartoonishly as you follow the click of a car door opening in unison.

"Oh! Right! Now we wanted to make sure this would be beneficial for both of you, so we invited Han’s parents to have him stay with you for these two months!"

Haha.

You’re dreaming. This is all a dream. Because Han Jisung did not just get out of that Kia, and she did not just say two months.

Automatically, your hands fly into the air, willing to battle your way out of this one if that’s what it takes.

"You’re leaving me here? Are you serious-what’re you-Hey! Don’t drive away!" Before you can open your mouth the two cars back out of the dirt road without so much as a goodbye to the children they’d utterly abandoned, might you add the children that wanted nothing more than to bury each other a day ago.

And so, the two months of summer hell began.

..Albeit, out of all your troubles, the scenery wasn’t too hellish opposed to the internal screaming echoing around your skull.

Instead, serene, comfortable sound consumed the wilderness surrounding the cabin, filling your ears with the hum of evening birdsong and water trickling from the river below. At least that part was tolerable.

You perch on the edge of the railing and listen, trying to distract yourself from your mind for a moment—allowing you to bask in a billion thoughts you wished to drown out.

Han had already gone inside without even a hello (not that you expected one), seeming to feel the same amount of hopelessness as you did after hearing your fate. Peaceful, until the creaking patio door opening rips every inch of calmness right out of your grasp.

"The view is nice, isn’t it."

Stop it. Stop talking like we’re friends. It’s not normal. We are not normal.

The sensible part of your mind tells you this is how people that don’t go for the throat talk, but you can’t convince yourself to communicate like that. Not with your history, not now.

"Nice without you interrupting me." Your grip tightened on the fence supporting you, refusing to even spare him a glance in fear of watching disappointment flood his frontal. You’d stab a stake through your chest before succumbing to him, before sympathizing his feelings.

"I’m going inside," you mouth, quickly slipping past him through the half-open door without another word.

Unforgiving. You are both very unforgiving. Or maybe it’s you, unable to forget about your grievances, unable to let go. For a second—closing the door behind you—you fear you’ll never be able to let go.

Radio silence inhabits the aged home, and you both hurry off to separate sides to digest everything’s awfulness in your own, unique ways. Han resorts to strumming the acoustic guitar he’d stuffed in his bag before leaving Seoul, and you, well, you cope, furiously pacing the room until exhaustion overtakes your limbs and you pitifully flop onto the floor.

The suitcases will have to rot outside tonight because leaving this spot, no less passing by the living area, meant Han Jisung exposure, the last thing your sour mood needed. You rationalize—you really do—but fleeting thoughts and whatever keeps itching your leg steal your chance of thinking positively.

Wait.

Alternatively, during what he assumes to be your sulking-about-how-life-isn’t-fair session, Han’s daily mug of coffee (the one he’d missed out on due to being forced up at the asscrack of dawn) was cut short thanks to a shrill scream. He hurriedly placed his beverage on the counter, racing to where you stood glued to the wall of the hallway, finger shakily pointing to a bug crawling along the floor.

Mischievously, Han crossed his arms over his chest, surveying the chaos that could ensue with a simple request. This was already off to a great start.

Why not get his fair share? Toying with you was way too fun after all.

"Y’know, there’s a great way to deal with this." He takes his last swig of caffeine while you basically crawl into your skin, impossibly backing up further from the skittering insect.

"And what would that be?"

Rookie mistake. He can tell you’re aware of exactly what he’s going to say next, already two steps behind him before you realize you can do anything about it. What to choose, what to choose.

Then, Ding! A marvelous idea strikes.

"I’ve always imagined the nickname Sungie would sound cute coming from you," he sings, dreadful anticipation vividly apparent. He’s having a blast.

Wrinkling your nose, your glare radiates nothing but red-hot animosity, patience walking a thin wire. Han loves every bit of it.

"What the hell are you talking abou—"

"You might wanna say it, that beetle is getting closer," He says, voice laced with devilish intent.

Unfortunately for you, life and death were the only ways to get through this. Naturally, you leaned closer to choosing death for the sake of your reputation, but life had to be an asshole and shatter your ego into a billion tiny pieces last minute.

"FUCK- Sungie- kill it now!" You shout, releasing a very frustrated scream you’re certain could’ve topped Regina George’s.

Beneficial? She called this beneficial?

"I knew it’d be cute,” He snickered, instantly covering the god-forbidden demon with his empty cup and grinning up at you with crescent moon eyes as if he hadn’t brutally manipulated your terror seconds before.

You hate him. Hate him hate him hate him.

God. You wanted to cry.

. ..

Jisung would’ve loved to see your reaction if he caused a ruckus so early, but he was being nice this morning, carefully traveling around the kitchen island to fill his thermos with water when he dropped the metal bottle and the loudest, most blaring screech echoed around the entire house.

Truthfully, it was an accident. Truthfully.

You wouldn’t believe him.

Not even a minute later, low and behold, the adorable grumpiness identified as you peeked out from a blanket burrito, noticeably seething from your bedroom door.

"It’s five in the morning you lunatic, what is so important that you’re leaving at five in the morning," you grumble, instinctively pulling your blanket tighter when he approached.

"You really want me to stay with you that badly, honey? All you had to do was ask~" You tiredly push away his kissy face leering close, clad in pajamas and not quite awake enough to put up with him.

He twirls the keys, stopping to dramatically blow you a kiss in the process.

"'M going on a run, don’t miss me too much,” Jisung waved, and with the click of the door closing behind him, he’s gone to who knows where.

His cockiness makes you roll your eyes as you begin whipping up some form of breakfast to satiate your stomachs complaints, knowing your chances of going back to bed were slim to nothing due to being woken up so mercilessly.

If he dropped what sounded to be a iron pipe to wake you up, thinking about what his next "alarm clock" would be gives you goosebumps. Yep. No going back to sleep for you.

Except the minute hand ticks by, and what used to be a short run turns into an uneasy feeling by the time the third hour rolls around.

Three hours and twenty minutes.. Three hours and thirty minutes.. Three hours and forty minutes..

Screw it, you’ll go looking for him.

"Jisung? Jisung, where are you!" Your shouting has to have echoed around the entirety of Gangwon at this point, stopping to catch your breath on the side of the never ending dirt pathway. Miles and miles you scour, gradually reaching a bench covered by a willow tree where you slump down, enjoying the swift moment of rest.

What you hadn’t expected enjoying your much needed break was to find the exact boy you were searching for, lying fast asleep in the shade.

Covering your mouth to mute your gasp, a string of mumbled curses fall off your tongue as you get up from your spot and hesitantly approach the sleeping beauty.

Oh so slowly you sit down in the grass, paying attention not to make too much noise from the crunchy leaves.

"It’s not fair that you’re pretty even when napping," You mutter, infatuated by his mesmerizing looks that seem to glow in the minimal light emerald leaves reflect.

That is, before his eyelashes dust and you noisily rush to your feet, flushing pink at an alarming pace. The prince-like beings' cheeks puff, blinking rapidly to clear the sleepy haze.

"Huh? Y/n, when did you get here? You’re red; are you okay—"

"Yeah. C’mon." You speed-walked ahead despite Jisung calling out for you to slow down, terrified he’d seen you or, worse, heard the things you’d said.

He stalls to pick up something and you experimentally glance back, noting a green color visible through the plastic bag he held. What’s inside is only recognizable by the clinking of glass colliding together.

"Did.. did you- is that…" Words pour without making sense, squinting accusingly at the bit of a label you can see reading "Chum Churum Soju."

Your bewilderment keeps you planted to the ground, scrolling through your mental list of possibilities explaining why it couldn’t be alcohol. And suddenly you genuinely question if Han’s delinquency appeared outside of school as well.

Surely, because the smirk painting his features when he caught sight of your shocked expression left no room to wonder.

"Won't it be fun?" He shakes the bag. "We’re irresponsible highschoolers anyways, and the grandma working there said it has the best flavor this time of year."

So that’s how he managed to get by without an ID. Of course.

Problem? One, you’re underage. Two, who knows if someone found out. Three, you had no goddamn clue what you were like drunk, and the last thing you wanted to happen was a detrimental mistake under the influence with Jisung. Everything about this foreshadowed disaster, how he couldn’t figure that part out was beyond you.

Or maybe he wanted disaster to strike, maybe it was all a part of his plan, the cherry on top to ruin your life permanently.

Yeah, you’re not letting even a drop enter your system.

"Aigoo— don’t cry," Han whines, obviously a bit tipsy, though compared to you who’s almost completely wasted (rocking back and forth while spilling nonsense to nobody in particular), he’s basically sober.

It was an accident, you swear. You couldn’t help it, he called you a coward and dared you to a drinking contest that put your precious pride on the line—leading into this shithole of a situation in the first place. Backing down meant ultimate defeat, and knowing you had at least three more weeks stuck here narrowed down the last option available.

"'M not crying asshat.." You sob, hand feebly hitting the table in a pitiful show of aggression. Your brain is fuzzy and everything feels so weird and dizzying. Then you feel it.

Oh no. Word vomit. You can’t stop it.

"I just don’t think it’s fair, Jisung," You blurt, Han blinking tiredly upon hearing his name. "You have such a pretty face for such an awful person."

You’re babbling now, blurily viewing multiple emotions unfold prior to opening his mouth. You guess in some way he heard what you said below the willow tree, even as a drunk confession.

"You.. You think I have a pretty face?" Though seconds after he finishes speaking you lean across the table to press your index against his lips, the boy’s eyes growing to the size of saucers.

"Shut uppp, I don’t wanna hear your voice, ever." Interrupting the question, you wobble to your feet, grip fumbling on the chilled door knob before blindly plowing into the room and collapsing on your mattress.

Meanwhile, Jisung attempts to stop you. Keyword: attempts. He does, almost there, and then the carpet trips him somehow (his own way of pretending he didn’t slip over nothing) and he’s kissing the floor, exhaustion immediately numbing his entire alcohol-ridden body till he succumbs to oh so welcoming sleep.

Gasping awake, a rampaging headache greets his skull, unevenly carrying himself to grab a barely there cup of water that’ll hopefully ease some tension. He assumes this must be a hangover, and man, it’s more of a pain than he thought.

The Jisung back in Seoul wouldn’t be able to fathom getting drunk at noon before ending up here, a place that was certainly not home. Well, the Jisung back in Seoul wouldn’t be able to fathom getting drunk at noon along with waking up on the floor, being stuck in this place with you, and an entire collection of things he couldn't name off the top of his head.

Being completely honest, he’s amazed he hadn’t slept the rest of the day and night after earlier, filled with crude small talk and stolen alcohol sipped from styrofoam cups. And you calling him pretty, that too.

Said styrofoam cups scatter in disarray all over the floor, evidence of how drunk you’d both got that painted quite an impressively messy picture.

There’s not much to see staring through the fogged window; Gangwon’s relentless humidity leading to a nearly impossible view of the lake outside. Though he doesn’t mind. In fact, knowing that no one can find him here, you and him, isn’t too bad. No teachers looming over him, nor were his parents reprimanding him for grades slightly below perfect.

Although in the midst of his headspace, a floorboard creaks exceptionally loud and you stand, rocking back and forth on your heels and gazing at him through half-lidded eyes he can’t quite read. What he distinctly spotted, however, was the smile casually gracing your lips. A dreamy, loopy smile that told him something wasn’t exactly normal.

"Sungie.."

Han cranes to hear what you say, bewildered by the nickname you swore to never utter. Were you still drunk? You had to be, or you wouldn’t have approached him with open arms like that to bury your head into his chest where he feared you’d hear his hammering heartbeat—frozen stiff as a board with your arms wrapped around him.

"Are.. are you still drunk?" Han timidly asks and you absentmindedly groan before your movement stops, the boy doing a double take in case you managed to pass out buried in his clothing.

Slowly, cautiously, he pulled you off of him, body curled in disgust due to the saliva staining his t-shirt where your face had been.

Yep. You had fully passed out while hugging him.

"Wow, how much did you have to drink again?" Laughing to himself, he struggles guiding you to the couch to sit down without stumbling over each other.

Propping a pillow behind your head, the boy hesitates, feeling a sort of déjà vu he can’t make sense of. Though quickly enough, he shakes off the phenomenon and begins raising up, but a softness threading through his fingers stops him in his tracks for a second time, and he has to blink multiple times to register what was happening.

Although appearing passed out still, your hand found its way to reach for his, holding onto his pinky so lightly, so carefully. The boy's heart pounded, collecting all of his self control to refrain from making decisions he'd regret.

"Stop. We can’t." Sentence trembling on his tongue, he steadily pulled away, nearly wincing when you shifted slightly.

You were only dreaming, you never would have done this if you were awake, he reminded himself, glancing back to where you lie once more as if you’d magically spring up and announce your undying love for him. Did he want that to happen? No, he’s just joking, just a joke. Right.

It hurts, he can’t name why.

He prays you don’t remember.

"Please tell me why it’s so freaking cold in the middle of July," You mumble to nobody, spotting your cell mate’s cabin mate’s backside crouched over the fire pit. What he busied himself doing you couldn't guess, unpredictably unpredictable.

Curiously, you shuffle to the window, observing the charcoal he added before flicking the lighter and setting the lumber ablaze, flames licking at the dark sky above. Starting at age ten you learned curiosity killed the cat, but never did you think it killed humans as well. That was, prior to Jisung noticing you watching him. Astonishingly, however, he motioned for you to come out, refraining from the average jerk behavior on this occasion.

Unpredictably unpredictable, like you said.

"Have you given up yet? Hating me, I mean." Appearing beside the lawn chair you had cozied into, he tossed a few additional branches into the brewing flames, dropping down to warm his hands. Apparently, you don’t remember. Only Jisung would realize that.

"You talk about it like it’s a choice." Stuffing your hands inside your coat pockets, you avoid him per routine. Confidence comes easier that way, especially with him—someone you’re weak for.

You’d never admit that.

"It’s not?"

Your tongue pokes at the flesh of your cheek, ticked.

"You don’t seem to understand the hell I go through every day I come to school. Han Jisung, you give me every reason to hate you," You state coldly, fists clenching and unclenching where he can’t see.

This argument is fearful. You both glare at anything but each other, turning away from mere face-to-face contact in fear you’d apologize. Jisung is always first to look, first to try understanding.

Those times are never noticed by you, someone who doesn’t give in.

"But we're not in school anymore; we’re free in a cabin in the middle of Gangwon. So could you at least pretend to not hate me?" He looks. Looks at each minuscule twitch of your mouth, the soft cupid's bow perfectly carving your lips. Han scolds himself. He gets lost in you sometimes, a habit. Times that he’s glad you avoid him, unlike now, desperately needing you to see.

"Pretend? Did you say pretend? You’re fucking insane thinking I can just pretend nothing has happened. You think I can walk away from all this like it’s nothing, because I'm nice and sweet and do anything for anybody? You’re heartless, Jisung."

The boy hastily clutched onto the sleeve of your puffer jacket as you got up, fanning flames revealing your broken expression.

You shakily inhale, tears unconsciously slipping down your cheeks. This is the last thing you wanted, to end up crying in front of him. But here you are, walls crumbling down.

"Stop trying to make us right when we’ll lead to a bad ending."

You tremble and his grip loosens automatically, lingering there.

"Look at me."

"Let me go."

"Look at me, please."

You foolishly look like he did. Look and note how deep the pools of dusky caramel dancing in his eyes are. Look and pinpoint the mole residing on the right side of his face, effortlessly close to pretty pink lips. Look and admire the sweet curve of his eyes complimented by the shape of his brows, furrowed with sadness that match the tone you’d heard that day you found him on the swing.

You curse your hiccuping, delving into the softness of his palm while his thumb delicately swipes your tears. He’s warm. Han Jisung, though you never thought you’d say it, is warm to the touch.

"We’re not leading to a bad ending, Y/n. You want a bad ending because of what I’ve done, so you can feel like your anger is justified. This is my fault, and I’ll take responsibility, so give me a chance to fix it and quit burdening yourself because of my mistakes, okay?" He tips his head, tenderly caressing the delicate tear-stained skin beneath your lower lashes.

Today, tonight, everything you ever believed about Han Jisung was proven wrong.

His perception and his kindness, which you didn’t even know existed, forged through the surface and tore your heart in halves. He’d revealed himself to you and in actuality, he always had; you just closed your eyes.

But today, tonight, he didn’t let you close them; he held them open to see him, see his apology, see his acceptance—and it gave you no choice but to comply, to nod your head and trust him, something you’d never done before.

You take a seat again, yet the stifling company isn't stifling anymore, and a sensation akin to relief floods the brisk air surrounding Gangwon cabin. He brings you tissues and you say thank you, it’s new. He smiles and you smile back, it’s new as well.

You’ve never liked things you were unfamiliar with, but this is okay.

For once, being around Han Jisung feels okay.

"..Did it hurt?"

He blinked, fixating you with a confused stare.

"When I punched you, did it hurt?"

Slowly, his mouth stretched into a grin, chuckling. That’s new too, you think you like it the most so far.

"Like a bitch."

. ..

You’d say your relationship evened out, not finding an incessant need to respond with something even nastier. It was weird at first, coexisting and all. Weird being so friendly, despite the annoying banter paying occasional visits.

Better, better this way.

The moon rose up high in the sky only to settle, and you’d periodically climb to the top of the house in a way Jisung had taught you, hand placed on your back reassuringly as you climbed the cob-web infested windowsill up to the roof. You’d also say that gesture didn’t affect you. You lied.

Nonetheless, the rooftop "dates" helped you appreciate how bright and brilliant the twinkling balls of fire were after being pulled out here where artificial light is infinitely scarce compared to Seoul’s amusement park of electricity.

"That," Jisung points, finger drawing an imaginary line connecting specific stars lighting up the sky. "Is the constellation Cygnus, it’s Greek for swan. When I studied in Malaysia there was a great hill to stargaze, that’s where I learned about them."

You nod, savoring the otherworldly view paired with his voice.

Comfort. He’s comfortable telling you about himself. Your heart feels happy.

"I always thought Lyra and Cygnus would make a good couple," he says, beats of a silence passing before you burst into a fit of giggles, the boy raising up to lean on his elbow appearing quite offended.

A constellation? He thinks constellations would make good couples?

Han Jisung is full of surprises.

"Yah I’m serious! They’d be perfect together! It’d be romantic and sweet and— you’re mean." He whined playfully, suppressing his own laughter noticing how hard you were trying not to laugh.

Quietness, silence if you must, replaces the once child-like conversation. Not the I’m-counting-the-seconds-to-your-funeral type silence that occurred daily prior to your campfire crying/make-up session, but a calm silence.

"Could you imagine what the kids back home would say?" He breathes his words airily whilst admiring your eyes staring up at the sky—twinkling. To him, those eyes hold the galaxy in them. Eyes that weren’t introduced to him until recently, on a night he’s certain he’ll remember for the rest of his life.

"We’re not home, we’re free, like you said." You don’t glance at him and ironically, he can’t stop gazing at you. You move and he watches, enraptured by this. Whatever this may be.

Ah, he’s staring again. Lost in you again.

Abruptly, your dramatic sputtering successfully pulled his head out of the clouds, splatters of water began to dapple your once dry bodies. But as you prepare to ease down and go inside, he lightly grabs your wrist with a sweet look, convincing you, if only for a few minutes, to stay.

"You’re crazy, Jisung." You laugh, expression breaking into the most breathtaking beam Han had ever seen. If someone were to take a picture of Jisung right now, he’s certain his irises would be heart-shaped. And in that moment he swore he’d never fallen in love harder before. Falling in love he’d write about on pages of a journal, photograph with his polaroid back home. Falling in love soaked with rain on the roof of a cabin, stargazing without clocks to tell you what time it is.

You’re drenched, he’s soaked. He wants to kiss you, you want to kiss him. Then you remember you’re still learning this entire "normal people" concept and he’s supposed to tread carefully when it comes to you, but everything fits so well and your lips sort of connect and you can’t let go.

He wishes he could stay in this moment forever.

Your hands in his hair, his cupping your face, head tilted to gain easier access while leaning against his side. Endlessly close.

Han is like spring, like daffodils blooming their hidden colors deep in a field. You might get frustrated searching, but once you find and pluck the flower from long stalks of grass, its petals will shine eternally.

Rain is pouring, pelting his already messy overalls and leaving strands of ash blond stuck to his forehead, lips pulled so high up he can’t think straight.

He smiles and you do too and things feel right, righter than they had in a long time.

Young kids sure act stupid when you leave them alone for too long.

He wouldn’t take it back for the world.

.. .

"Ready to go?" Referring to the doorway, he waited for you by the door, brown hues carrying emotion you chose not to acknowledge.

"Yeah, um, get home safe and text me sometime, whenever you’re not busy, I mean." He nods a response, stupidly happy face earning your harmless scowl in the process of helping push your luggage through the door.

Different. Remarkably different from how things were before. Two months ago you would’ve hated this, hated anything to do with him.

Different, it was different now. Better, better this way, like during stargazing.

He turned left and you turned right, opposite directions towards where your parents stood, towards the cars that would travel far from here. You’d drive, drive and drive back to Seoul carrying new feelings and new conversation, new love.

And from a peculiar standpoint, Gangwon Cabin was your start to finish with Han Jisung. Starting with a punch to the face and ending in a way you could never have imagined that one summer in high school.

sunboki, may 2022 ©

FIC TAGLIST. @ren0325 @lix-ables @babrieeee @azurez @soobnny @weird-bookworm @q1sng @telesvng @ren0325 @hello-stranger24

#k labels #kflixnet #skz x reader #straykids x reader #stray kids x y/n #stray kids x you #stray kids x reader #han jisung x reader #han jisung x you #han jisung x y/n #han jisung #han jisung angst #han jisung fluff #jisung x reader #skz han jisung #jisung han #straykids han #straykids angst #straykids fluff #skz fluff #skz angst #skz x y/n #skz x you #skz han #stray kids fluff #stray kids angst

[captaincryolicious]

Desert Scum

➳ Cyno x gn!reader

➳ Oneshot ; 1.5k

➳ Hurt/comfort ; Reader is being attacked

Helping out the chief of Aaru Village doesn't go according to plan, but Cyno is there to save the day. [20.10.2022]

Zep's Note ; This isn't much, just something small to see if I'm capable of writing for Cyno lol.

content under the cut | masterlist

Collecting scarabs for medicinal use was a noble cause, or at least that was what you kept telling yourself to keep the flimsy bits of motivation you had left from dissolving completely. You already caught a few, but it was a tedious task – even more so because these little critters knew very well how to bury themselves and hide in the dry sand of the desert. They outsmarted you with ease, and frustration was slowly getting the best of you. You had been here for a couple of hours now, judging from the sun’s lowering position, and the results didn’t please you. The wicker basket you brought with you was still fairly empty, the revenue wasn’t fantastic. The Village Chief would probably be disappointed when you would return to the village. Why did the old man ask you instead of someone more experienced in this field? Surely, there lived people in Aaru Village who were more agile in scarab-catching. 

You heaved out a sigh, ambling through the loose sand without paying as much attention as you initially did. This job was tiring you, and on top of that you were beyond bored. It was as if those scarabs knew that you were looking for them, and you found not a single one anymore. Had a warning call resonated through the population? Or was it simply a case of inexperience and bad luck?

It’s for a good cause, you reminded yourself, knowing very well that the way you were staring at the sand at your feet was pretty much useless. You used the front of your shoe to stir the sand mindlessly. Well, six scarabs were better than no scarabs, right? You just had to look at it from the bright side.

Nah, six scarabs wasn’t all that bad for a rookie like you. You tried to muster up a sense of satisfaction. It was getting darker, and despite the short time you lived here, you knew very well that the desert was cold and perilous at night. It was about time you headed back to the village. The sun was already setting, and it wouldn’t be long until its warmth would dissipate. 

You turned around, ready to pick up your basket, but a movement caught in your peripheral vision had you riveted to the sandy desert floor in fright. 

Deep laughter broke through the silence, and sheer horror overtook your entire being as three men approached you. Their pace was leisurely, as if they only came for a little chat, but the malice in their sickening grins gave away that they weren’t there to play the nice guys. You were surrounded by a ternary of Eremites, and your heart froze over in fear. 

     “Well well, what do we have here,” the man in the front jeered, his hand ghosting over the grip of his dagger before he took it out of its confinements. “All alone in the desert, friend? Not a smart move, now you’re left at our mercy and we have none of that.” 

They all laughed, as if the man just told a funny joke. It wasn’t even remotely funny to you, and you realized gravely the mistake you had made. You were terrified, and even more so, you were doomed. The setting sun sunk behind them, and they stood tall as stark silhouettes against the darkening sky. Their long shadows cast over you, wrapping you in the dark. You glanced around, panicking. Was there a way to escape? Could you possibly outrun them if you were to make a mad dash for it? The chances were slim, and you knew that. It was merely out of instinct that you desperately sought a way to flee. 

     “P-Please let me go,” you pleaded, but it only elicited another round of laughter. 

Then there was a dagger under your chin, coaxing up your face as the Eremite soldier forced you to look at the malicious grin he wore. A sob escaped your throat as anxiety racked your body. Your heart pounded wildly and you closed your eyes. Just be done quickly, you silently pleaded. Every fiber of your being was expecting to die right there and then, for you had nothing that could possibly satisfy them enough to let you go. What could you offer them? Six scarabs? 

     “Just checking, kid,” the man spoke roughly. “Do you have anything of value with you? If not, we’ll just take you with us. Maybe that godforsaken village of yours is willing to pay a nice sum of Mora for you.” 

A growl ruptured through the twilight sky, and a flash of purple set everything alight. With a yelp that held both surprise and pain, the Eremite who had you cornered flew backward and you sank to your knees, panting heavily. Thunder crackled all around you, bolts of purple lightning painting the sand a violet glow. Another man fell to the ground with a groan, and you gasped when you saw a familiar face engage in a deadly dance with his trusted polearm in his hands. He moved swiftly, the eyes of his Anubis mask glowing voraciously as the last man, too, fell to the ground with a cry of pain. 

A pair of red eyes landed on you, partially hidden by the shadow of his mask, and your heart jolted in relief. They were smoldering with anger and bloodthirst, yet the familiarity of them warmed your body that had been chilled with fear before. He was breathing heavily, his bare chest rising and falling after having to fend off three skilled Eremites. You saw the relief in his eyes, despite the glowering hatred they held within, before he averted his gaze to look at the bodies that rested in the sand. 

     “Lay one more finger upon them and you’ll die by my hands,” he growled, and the tassel of his vicious spear caught the final light of the setting sun, shimmering dangerously. But his words fell upon deaf ears, for his opponents were long unconscious. 

Cyno twirled his spear, burying the blade in the desert sand before coming over to you. He helped up your shaking form gently and slowly, supporting you to prevent you from collapsing again. You were still in shock, and tears welled up in your eyes when you looked at your savior.

     “Fool,” he scolded you, his hands driving up to cup your tear-ridden cheeks. “Do you have any idea how worried I was when I heard that you left Aaru Village on your own?” 

     “I’m sorry,” you muttered with a frail voice, for it was all you could muster at the moment. “The Chief asked for help and–” you trailed off, knowing all too well that Cyno didn’t want to hear any excuses. 

     “You’re so naive, wandering off into the desert alone,” Cyno groaned, his red eyes – that were calmer now that he had you in his arms – glided over your being to check for any injuries. “These surroundings won’t treat you nicely, nor does the scum that roams here at night.” 

He sighed, wiping your tears before his hands dropped to the small of your back. He pulled you closer, taking you into a soothing embrace. You instantly buried your face in his fluffy white hair, a strangled sob leaving your throat. For a few minutes, you simply stood like that, relishing in the feeling of safety that washed ashore. With his hands resting on your trembling figure, you finally grew a little more at ease. Cyno was there.

     “You’re too kind, Y/N, putting yourself at risk for the sake of helping others,” he murmured, resting his cheek against the side of your head. “Next time, I’m going with you.” 

You nodded; you liked that idea. There was no way that you’d ever set foot into the desert alone after tonight’s events, at least not for quite a while. You’d only venture into the vast plains of sand and sandstone when you had your Cyno by your side. The nauseating laughter of those Eremite soldiers still echoed in your mind, and you shuddered in your lover’s arms. 

     “I think I’ll catch a lot more scarabs with your help,” you attempted to joke.

Cyno didn’t laugh. He clearly wasn’t ready yet to bring a lighter note to this tense situation. Instead, he let go of you, opting to take your hand instead. 

     “Can you walk?” he asked. 

     “Yeah, I’m fine now that you’re here,” you replied. “I just wanna get out of here as quickly as possible.” You allowed your gaze to wander towards the crooks that lay in the sand and pursed your lips. “I don’t wanna be here when they wake up.” 

     “It’s probably better for their sake if they won’t wake up for as long as I’m still here,” Cyno muttered darkly. He gave a gentle tug on your hand. “Let’s get you out of here, Y/N.” 

You obediently followed him, more than happy to leave the desert behind and get back to the safety of Aaru Village. You had learned your lesson; the desert couldn’t be trusted. Cyno had warned you many times regarding the matter, but you only realized the weight of his words when you experienced it first-hand. You were so, so grateful that he showed up right on time. 

Where would you’ve been without Cyno?

You didn’t even want to think about that.

#genshin impact #genshin impact imagines #genshin impact scenarios #genshin impact fanfiction #genshin impact imagine #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact headcanons #genshin impact cyno #cyno genshin impact #cyno #cyno x reader #cyno x you #cyno x y/n #cyno imagine #cyno imagines #genshin impact cyno x reader

[kirby0strombolli]

Ghostface | Matt Sturniolo P3

'What's the matter Sidney? You look like you've seen a ghost.'

ghostface!matt x reader

Chapter 3: liar.

P1 P2 P3 P4 P5

warnings: SMUT!, jerking off, cursing.

a/n: I've never written smut before bear with me guys 😭

______________________________________________________________

y/n's pov

"What's the matter, y/n?" he peers at me with utter malice in his eyes . "You look like you've seen a ghost."

I turned to cry out for help, but his hand closed around my mouth, muffling my screams.

Panic surged through me like a tidal wave. I struggled against his iron grip, but it was futile.

My vision began to blur, the world spinning around me as I fought to stay conscious.

'She had a bit too much to drink,' he chuckled to someone in the distance that I couldn't see.

His words echoed in my mind, each syllable a dagger of betrayal.

Lies. He's a liar. I thought in my head, unable to speak from the strong grip he had over my mouth.

No doubt he'd take me to his car and toss me into the trunk like all the unfortunate girls in the horror movies.

My heart pounded in my chest as the realization hit me like a freight train. My life had been turned into a horror movie - a nightmare that I couldn't escape.

Panic surged through me as I struggled against his grip, but it was no use. Matt's strength was overpowering, and I was helpless against him.

But before I could confront him, he removed his hand from my mouth, allowing me to speak. With trembling lips, I managed to stutter out, 'you're a liar.'

After receiving no reply, I gritted my teeth and braced myself for the inevitable, expecting to be roughly thrown into the trunk on his car.

But to my surprise, I felt Matt's touch gentle, not forceful. Instead of being tossed aside like a discarded toy, I was gently laid across the backseat of the car, my body trembling with a mixture of fear and confusion.

I fought to stay conscious, my eyelids heavy as lead, but the world around me blurred into a chaotic mess of shadows and lights.

My fingers clawed at the seat, desperately seeking something to hold onto, but my strength was waning, slipping away like sand through my trembling hands.

Each breath felt like a struggle, the air thick and suffocating as it filled my lungs.

I could hear Matt's voice, distant and muffled as if coming from underwater. He spoke of things I couldn't comprehend, his words swirling around me in a dizzying whirlwind of confusion and fear.

But one sentence stood out to me, 'I killed him '.

But despite my best efforts, consciousness slipped through my fingers like grains of sand, until finally, I succumbed to the darkness, my mind plunging into the abyss of unconsciousness, and confusion.

______________________________________________________________

Matt's pov

As I drove down the deserted road, the weight of my actions hung heavy in the air, the gravity of the situation pressing down on me like a suffocating blanket.

Guilt gnawed at the edges of my conscience, as I tried to ignore the growing erection in my pants. But, as I glanced at her through the rearview mirror, a rush of desire surged through me, igniting an insatiable urge of lust.

Her disheveled hair framed her face in a tantalizingly tousled manner, her lips parted ever so slightly as she struggled to regain consciousness.

With each passing moment, my arousal grew, fueled by the soft murmurs and faint moans escaping her unconscious state.

It was wrong, I knew it, after the events at the party, the carnage that she had no idea about...

I couldn't bring myself to ignore my now painfully hard cock, stealing glances at her until I couldn't take it anymore.

The tension in the air was palpable, thick with desire and temptation. I gripped the steering wheel tightly, my knuckles turning white as I struggled to suppress the lust and desire I had been battling with.

But with each delicate sound she made, a surge of heat washed over me, eroding whatever restraint I had left.

Closing my eyes briefly, I took a deep, steadying breath, attempting to quell the storm raging inside me. Even as I tried to resist, the pull of temptation was too strong to ignore.

This was wrong- I shouldn't be feeling like this when- I was interrupted by a loud moan, the lewd sounds going straight to my pulsing length.

'fuck it.' I muttered under my breath pulling the car over, wasting no time unbuttoning my jeans.

______________________________________________________________

y/n's pov

My head is pounding.

we're not moving. the car is not moving.

'fuck y/n'

The sound goes straight to my core, and I realise I'm wet before I even open my eyes.

As my eyelids flutter open, and I find myself gazing at Matt, who was pleasuring himself, his eyes screwed shut, his hand is pumping his cock, pleasured whimpers to slipping out of his mouth.

With each word, his tone grew more urgent, more fervent, until he was practically pleading, "Please, baby, I need you."

Unable to tear my gaze away, I watched transfixed as Matt's hand moved rhythmically over his length, each movement making me more wetter.

His soft groans filled the air, mingling with the sound of my own ragged breaths as arousal surged through me.

And then, as if unable to contain himself any longer, he succumbed to the overwhelming need, his voice breaking in a guttural moan of pleasure.

Despite the confusion and fear swirling in my mind, I couldn't deny the undeniable heat pooling between my thighs.

Rubbing my thighs together, I shifted uncomfortably against the seat, my body aching with need as a wave of desire washed over me.

Despite the wrongness of the situation, I couldn't deny the overwhelming hunger that pulsed through my veins.

______________________________________________________________

With a newfound surge of boldness, she mustered up the courage to speak, her voice dripping with seduction. "Need a hand there, ghostface?" she purred, gesturing to the mask that lay on the centre console

A wicked grin spread across Matt's face as he met her gaze, his eyes sparkling with lust. "Ride me, cowgirl," he growled, his voice seductively low.

After throwing off her denim skirt, she made her way to the driver's seat, to be met with the sight of Matt, his red tip now leaking with pre-cum.

With a sultry smile, she straddled him, feeling his hardness pressing against her as she sank down onto his lap.

As she sank onto Matt's lengthy dick, she threw her head back in pleasure, as she, at an agonisingly slow pace, began to rock her hips against his, back and forth.

In a haze of desire, Matt reached for the cowboy hat resting nearby and gently placed it on her head. "You look so sexy, ma," he whispered hoarsely, his breath hot against her skin, sending shivers down her spine

Matt's eyes began to close as he gripped her hips tightly as she quickened her pace, beginning to bounce on his dick, as his lips connected with her neck, marking what was his.

He began to trail his lips down to her chest and let out a deep groan as she clenched around him, bucking his hips up as y/n's eyes began to glaze over in pleasure, her mouth open, small gasps audible over Matt's deep groans.

He leaned in close, his lips brushing against her ear as he whispered, "You're mine," before sinking his teeth gently into her neck again , marking her as his.

Her breath hitched at her possessive declaration, his hands moving down to her ass, and squeezing, making her clench around his cock.

'I'm yours' she whined, her tits bouncing urgently as she chased her climax. That's when Matt became rough, the grip on her ass getting tighter and tighter as he pushed her down onto his cock, throwing his head back in pleasure.

Matt's hands roamed eagerly over her, tracing every curve with a hunger that matched her own. With each thrust of her hips, she surrendered to the ecstasy coursing through her veins, her moans mingling with his.

As Matt thrust into her, his movements became more urgent, his every motion calculated to send waves of pleasure crashing over her.

With each deep penetration, he seemed to hit her g-spot with pinpoint precision, eliciting moans of ecstasy from deep within her throat.

As she felt the climax building inside her, she arched her back, pressing her body tightly against Matt's as . "Oh, fuck... Matt...Don't stop!" she cried out, her voice filled with raw desire.

She arched her back, pressing her body closer to his as she buried her head into the crook of his neck, her breath hot against his skin,"Shit, that's it, baby... Come for me," Matt urged, his eyes closed in pleasure.

As they both tumbled over the edge, curse words spilled from his lips, lost in the throes of ecstasy. As she sighed in pleasure, her eyes fluttered shut.

Impossibly, she slept.

taglist:@lexisecretaccx@itssophiasstuff@junnniiieee07

comment if you want to be added to the taglist a/n: I couldn't write the smut with a straight face I'm sorry 😭

shoutout to @freshloveforthefit and @louiscarrotsxoxo because they're amazing.

#matt sturniolo #smut #sturniolo smut #ghostface #matt sturniolo x reader

[author-morgan]

Title: Ānogar Hūra  Pairing: Daemon Targaryen x fem!Reader Rating: M Summary: When the war is over and done, and the blood has yet to dry on his hands, Daemon seeks you out. Warnings: Injury, post-battle filth (minor blood kink?)

TWO YEARS SLIP away in this War for the Stepstones. An ill-contrived attempt for Daemon Targaryen to prove his worth to his brother and the realm —to carve his path in the world by fire and blood. His madness is spurred by the early whispers of Corlys Velaryon, still bitter by Viserys choice to wed Alicent Hightower over Laena. Between the rejected proposal to secure his house’s power and the king’s disregard for the Triarchy threat, warring over the Stepstones was inevitable. But that was the early days of the war. Now it is hard to say which side is winning or losing, having turned into a bloody stalemate. 

The Crabfeeder sends his men to an early grave. Corlys and Daemon do the same. Only injury has spared you from meeting the same fate —wounds from which it feels you will never fully recover. The blade cut deep, and when Daemon found you in the sands after the Triarchy retreated for the day, he was certain of your fate. Then you coughed up blood and bile and spake his name in fading breath. He took you to Dragonstone for the maesters to tend to, unwilling to entertain the thought of fighting in this war without you at his side, whether it be on the battlefield or at the war council. 

But now —having rejoined the forces and after hearing of the happenings at Court— you want this farce to be over and done with. The sooner, the better. Too many have died already. Too many highborn lords laugh at the Sea Snake and Rogue Prince and their struggle against the Triarchy and pirates. And you know well enough that if Viserys has not yet sent aid to his brother and House Velaryon, there will be none to come in the future —it would be unseemly.

Caraxes casts a dark shadow on the encampment as Daemon returns. He’s been absent for nigh a week roaming the Stepstones and the waters beyond. The maester looks at you then gives a terse nod —you’ve helped enough for the day, and it is likely you’ll need to soothe the restless dragon within Daemon Targaryen. You fall into stride at his side and look him over. He’s unharmed. Daemon reaches for your hand, his fingers curling around yours. Your hands are coated with the blood of those fighting to survive their injuries, his with the blood of those already dead. 

Daemon unbuckles his sword belt and places Dark Sister on the table before reaching for the ties and buckles of his dark steel armor. He sits, silent, and leans back —face twisted in frustration as he glimpses the spread-out maps and markers, a reminder of what little progress they’ve made over the last months. His gaze flits up —watching as you dip your hands into a wash basin, scrubbing away the drying blood, before sitting on the edge of a shared cot. 

You stare at the trodden ground, suffocating under the weight of the war. “How much longer must this go on, Daemon?” It’s almost a whisper, weary and strained. Since trading a sword for a healer’s smock, you’ve seen too many die —some no more than boys, too young to even know a woman’s love. Daemon does not answer. He has no answer. This war could drag on for years, or it could end in a day. Daemon doesn’t know which it will be, for not even Caraxes flames can smoke them from the caves. “Corlys’s men are nigh spent.” Three more ships were lost today, and nearly all the men crewing them. “We are outnumbered” —Daemon’s lips twitch, he does not need to be lectured by you to know they are losing the war— “our supplies grow thin without the Crown's support.” But Viserys is too busy with his new queen to care about the war being fought in the Narrow Sea. 

He stands and braces his weight on the table —silver-white hair falling in front of his face. It’s only when Daemon looks up that you can see the malice and anger in his eyes. “Flush Craghas Drahar and his men from those caves, and I’ll end this war tonight,” he bites. But so long as the Crabfeeder and his men remained in the caves and the Triarchy can supply new ships and men, this war will creep on, and the wheel of time will turn.

Shoulders sagging, you look down and drag a hand over your face. “I” —you shake your head and heave a great sigh— “I’m tired, Daemon,” you admit. You’ve only ever known peace with King Jaehaerys and Viserys until now. It is not like the bards sing, nor like the great tales told to children before bed.  

Daemon rises from his chair and rounds the table, regretting his harsh tone as he stops in front of you. Rough fingertips trace along your cheek, pushing back into your sweat-matted hair —like this, he can see the scar cutting across your shoulder and neck, a line of puckered silver flesh. He sighs, curling his fingers below your chin, his thumb running along your bottom lip. “Look at me.” His voice is soft again, and you do as he says. “Where do you want to be?” He’ll take you anywhere —back to Dragonstone, the capital, or the Reach. Daemon sees you as an equal, free to come and go, not a soldier to be commanded, and he’ll think no less of you for seeking a place of solace instead of war. 

Right here, you want to say, but the thought of rolling hills and a mild breeze makes you long for the Reach, for home. But you gave Daemon your heart when you were both children, running around the Red Keep —hitting each other with wooden swords. You don’t want to be amidst a war, but you don’t wish to leave him either. “I won’t leave you.” Daemon’s lips quirk upward upon hearing it, then he bends at the waist, and you tilt your chin up instinctively. His lips are wind-chapped, rough against your own, yet his kiss is soft, and he moves slowly, but it’s still fleeting —over too soon when he parts, resting his forehead against yours. You grip the front of his dark tunic and sigh, then he stands and steps back, retreating from the canvas pavilion to speak with Corlys and Vaemond.

He wakes you from restlessness. “Come,” Daemon says, offering his hand. You go without question and without hesitation. The encampment falls silent in the night; most are asleep or keeping watch along the shore. You crest a hill to the east, below Caraxes lays, slumbering —whiffs of pale smoke rising from his nostrils. The full moon hangs low on the horizon, half-swallowed by the dark waves and painted a pale shade of red. A blood moon. You’re unsure whether to take it as a good or ill omen. 

THE WHEEL OF time still spins and what was two years turns to three. Three long years of fighting in the Stepstones with little progress to show for it. The only island to remain solely under Daemon and Corlys’s control is Bloodstone, and its meager keep is surrounded by breaking waves and scattered remains of ships run aground and tossed onto the rocks —inhospitable. You look over the whitecapped sea from a high balcony, watching and waiting, whiling away another day and fighting off the ache of an old wound.

Caraxes’s bellowing cry warns you of his arrival. The Blood Wyrm circles the keep thrice over before descending, stilling sand and ash with his wings. Daemon dismounts the red dragon below —soaked in blood— and stumbles on his feet, but there’s a look of victory about him when he glances up at you on the balcony, lips twisting into something between a smile and a smirk. There’s a new purpose in his stride too. It is over then, you think, alas. 

He pushes open the door to your shared rooms, then unbuckles his sword belt and places it on the table as he prowls toward you, ready to claim the spoil of his victory —not giving you a chance to look him over for injury. Daemon surges forward, hands cradling your face as his lips seek out yours. You sigh into his mouth, letting him sear your senses. He tastes of salt and iron —of blood and sweat. His kiss makes you feel alive, even as it sucks the life from your lungs —but you keep coming back to it, again and again, back to him.

Fumbling, you grip his shoulders and let him part your lips with his tongue. The waves crash below the keep, but it feels as though they’re crashing over you too, pulling you under —drowning. But Daemon Targaryen makes drowning feel like the loveliest thing. 

Your hand slips from his shoulder and finds the first of the broken arrow shafts, and you break from his kiss, frowning, knowing the bright red blood staining your fingertips is his own. And your frown deepens when you see the second rising from his middle. “You’re hurt.” It’s little more than a breathless whisper. Daemon does not answer, but he does not deny it this time either. The pain hasn’t set in yet. Arrows be damned, he won the war, and now he wants you. 

Daemon’s hands fall to your waist, keeping you in front of him when you try to step back and survey the damage. Instead, your hands go the buckles and clasps of his armor —all slick with blood. He grimaces as you carefully pull the front of his breastplate forward and over the splinted ends of the arrow shafts. You rise onto your toes, and Daemon dips his head down, letting you lift the dark steel-and-leather armor overhead and set it aside —it will need to be cleaned and repaired— then you make quick work of his tunic, ridding him of the stained shirt.

His thumb traces a line below your bottom lip, wiping away the blood, but it only smears it. “Daemon,” you chide, knowing he means to distract you. Your prince is wounded, and you will tend to him as he once tended you, but you fear this is beyond your meager skillset. “I’ll get the maester.”

But Daemon shakes his head and grips your wrist before you can turn to leave. “No,” he tells you, knowing your hands are far gentler than any of the men trained in the Citadel. You nod and glance behind him toward the bed, he takes the cue and goes there, sitting on the settee at the foot of the bed and watching as you skirt around the room, gathering rags and the washbasin, but his impatience wins over. His fingers curl around the splintered shaft rising from his abdomen, and he draws the bodkin point out and tosses it aside.

You return to his side, frowning as you press a damp cloth to the bloody puncture. Daemon reaches for your hips, but you scold him with only a look and continue holding the cloth to stay the bleeding. “Ñuha jorrāelagon.” He grabs your hips again, voice husky as you relent, straddling his thighs.

Skirts hiked up around your waist, you can feel the outline of his hard cock pressed against your center —his lips part in a silent moan when you shift, and you won’t deny the effect seeing him like this —a true Targaryen— has on you. “Need you,” Daemon says, his voice a heady rasp with his palm pressed against your clit, two fingers exploring the slick gathering between your folds. He knows you won’t turn him away, especially now, having been separated from each other for weeks, and the hitch in your breathing and the soft moan that leaves your lips when two of his fingers press into your cunt is enough to spur him on. “Now.”

It’s a quick rustle of clothes —you rid yourself of your dress, and he fumbles with the ties of his britches, pushing them over his hips and down his thighs, then he lines himself up to enter you. Without a second thought, he’s pulling you down onto his cock —a low groan in his throat as you sink down to take him. Your cunt is wet and offers no resistance as he bottoms out inside you in one firm thrust. You’re tighter than he remembers, and it draws a wrecked groan from his lips.

Daemon presses his hips up into yours, feeling your walls tighten and flutter around his cock. “Greedy,” he taunts. And a choked little gasp escapes you. He pauses, fingertips tracing a random pattern along your thighs. You bite down on your lip, then offer a little smile of your own as you adjust to the fit and the soothing touch of his hand, stopping to grip firmly at your hips.

He holds you close —so your breasts are pressed flush against his bloodied chest— and ruts up inside you slowly enough to make you reacquainted with every inch of his cock sliding in and out of you. You’ve been parted for too long —unable to partake in the pleasures of flesh as you had before the war. It’s unexpectedly intimate, and you find yourself focusing on his face, where he’s still giving you that same pleased smirk until he pulls you down by the neck to meet his lips.

Another roll of his hips has you breaking away to let out a shaky whimper as his cock presses against that spot deep within you —it makes your toes curl. “Daemon,” you pant, struggling to speed up against the steady hold on your hips, keeping you in place. There’s a spark of something unfamiliar in his eyes that makes your stomach flip. He squeezes your hips down just a bit more to thrust deeper into your cunt.

Daemon keeps one hand firmly in place to control your movements but lets the other one roam over your body. You’re hyper-aware of the path of his rough fingers while he circles your navel, tickling over your stomach and ribs and up to your breasts. It stirs something more than a carnal desire in him to see you marked with blood like this —his blood. He pinches at your nipple without warning, and you cry out despite yourself and instinctively tighten around his cock in response. “Fuck,” he huffs out, voice rougher than normal. 

Your head tilts back, staring upward at the vaulted dark stone ceiling, and Daemon sees it as an opening. He nuzzles his nose against the base of your neck, nipping and kissing before dipping lower and licking a long stripe along your breastbone —he can taste the metallic tinge of blood.  

Daemon shows no sign of giving up, even with the fresh blood trickling from the open wound at his side. He continues to fuck you at a brutally slow pace —relishing in how well you fit him and how easily your bodies slide against one another. He’s only spurred on by the squeezing of your cunt that you can’t control. He pulls you closer, nips at your ear, and his tongue follows a bead of sweat running down your throat. His lips find your nipple again —suddenly, it’s hard to breathe, and your eyes snap open— sucking it into the heat of his mouth. You can’t stop the way you clench tight around him. He lets go of your nipple with a wet pop and moves to lave the other one with the same attention.

You’re so distracted by his attack on your breasts that you don’t even notice him finally releasing your other hip to rub his calloused thumb over your clit, and your resolve snaps like a frayed rope stretched too taut. “Daemon–” your words devolve into a needy moan, and his attention to your clit speeds up, but you need more —he knows it.

His unoccupied hand reaches to squeeze hard at your backside, and he picks up speed, your body following along with his movements. Daemon’s faint smile is taunting, but you love it —you love him— and your greedy cunt milks him for anything he’ll give you. You cry out for him, and his grip tightens to pull you up and down faster on him; you wonder if he’s getting as close as you are, but it’s hard to tell if the twisted expression on his countenance is from pleasure or pain —likely both. You lean your forehead against his.

You revel in every second he’s got you bouncing on his cock. His hand continues to make quick work on your throbbing clit, and you can feel yourself starting to come undone. “Fuck. Daemon, I–” you manage to pant out in his ear, unsure if you feel lightheaded from the sex or the heat and friction of your blood-slick bodies sliding against one another. He redoubles his efforts, thrusting up inside you with even harder, faster strokes, and his touch against your clit becomes nigh painfully intense. The waves of euphoria wash over you with his lips sucking a red mark into your neck, your hands buried in his filth-caked matted hair, and your ragged voice sighing and moaning his name over and over. The sweetest of songs —almost sweeter than victory. 

He doesn’t last much longer once your own needs are taken care of —it’s been too long, and exhaustion begins to set in with the first twinges of pain. But he fucks you at that same frantic pace for a few more minutes, enjoying the sight of your breasts bouncing with every rapid motion of his body as you do your best to keep up —hips rolling and twisting to meet his own.

The muscles of his thighs tighten beneath you, and Daemon’s cock twitches —his head falling backward as he pants and groans your name. You wrap your fingers around the broken arrow shaft at his shoulder, and as he pulls his cock out at the last moment to paint your shaky thighs and stomach with his seed, you wrench the arrow free —it gives way with little resistance. He bares his teeth and hisses, eyes flaring with danger and a delicate mix of true pleasure and pain.

Daemon presses his hand against where the arrow was, and his fingertips come away painted with bright red blood. It still seems odd to see his own blood —and before you can stand from his lap, he grips your jaw and paints a red line over your chin with his thumb. Then his lips are on yours again —possessive and haughty— always reminding you that you’re his, and when you part to breathe and rise, he nips at your bottom lip. You glance down at yourself after standing on shaky legs —torso smeared with blood and streaked with pale ropes of Daemon’s seed. He’s marked you this eve in more ways than one. “Gevie,” he breathes, smiling in earnest. 

By the time you both bathe and Daemon’s silver-white hair shines again, the sun has long sunk beneath the dark waves of the Narrow Sea. The bloodlust is gone, the day's aches settle into his bones, and the years of restlessness finally catch up. He lays back on the bed, wounds bound with linen and a great weight lifted from his shoulders. Daemon is nigh asleep by the time his head hits the feather pillow. You join him soon after and turn on your side, watching his chest's slow rise and fall, eyes tracing the new scar on his neck. It is over, you remind yourself, finding it difficult to believe after the past three years. Sighing, you press your lips to his temple, quick and soft so as not to wake him with the light of a blood moon painting the room in a pale-red glow.  

High Valyrian Translation: Ānogar Hūra - Blood Moon Ñuha jorrāelagon - My love Gevie - Beautiful

[House of the Dragon taglist: @batmomphd @beelanie @certifiedlittleshit @dollvi3e @erzsebetrosztoczy @fictionaldistraction @holysmokesblog @katie007123 @ksziggy @lillianastras @lostingoogletranslate @lucyhotchner @misskatiewrites @mrsragnarlodbrok @nenelysian @nerdy4itall @notbrookie @paprikabadger @purestxblood @qhbr2013 @safe-within-the-stars @sandronebabyy @thewintersnoozer @xinyourdreamsx @xxgarden ] if your name is italicized, tumblr would not let me tag you. if you’d like to be added to my House of the Dragon taglist, or any other taglist, just let me know with this Google Form!

#Daemon Targaryen #Daemon Targaryen x Reader #Daemon x Reader #Daemon Targaryen Fanfic #House of the Dragon #Matt Smith #my writing #fic setting: right after the War for the Stepstones #if you notice something wrong with my high valyrian translations plz let me know #oh this is filthy #mama I’m sorry #if i missed you on this taglist you'll be on the next!

[ophelian-darling]

hiiii!! can you write something with giorno with prompts 46 and 63? in which giorno lets darling out after months to meet up with some old friends (of course he has to be there too) and one of them (either girl or boy, it's up to you) is wayyyy too touchy with darling? and he gets jealous and possessive, wanting to go home as soon as possible.

and darling tries to calm him down, telling him that she only loves him and they cuddle & kiss aajahhaaha

you can also do it with gn reader, but i would like female. how you are more comfortable with!! much love <3

"I don't like them, don't ask me to be nice"

"A friend ? you call them a friend when they have their hands and eyes all over your body ?"

TW: Jealousy, Obsession, Possessiveness, Implied emotional manipulation.

enjoy ♡

The room basked in a warm shade of morning sun; casting its joy through the air to your smiling face as you stood in front of the vanity mirror, admiring your dolled reflection with glinting eyes. Giorno blessed your morning with good tidings: you were finally allowed to go out- not exactly what he told you, but it meant having some gentle breeze and sunshine caresses nonetheless.

Your Sweetheart said that he had an important matter to attend to, and it would be nice if you accompanied him (There was no way you'd refuse, memorizing the corners of the Villa exhausted your mind) and you gladly accepted. He mentioned the presence of his most trusted subordinates and close friends, and you couldn't be happier, a sweet excitement blinking in your eyes.

"Aren't you the prettiest?" it fell from his tongue, sugary in words and adoring in tone. Everything he says casted a certain magic on you that made you forget how intolerable he was with his jealousy and strict with his instructions concerning you: from your clothing, choice of words and comportment. Blamed be anything that pulled on the strings of his head whenever it was about you: other people's stares, pricks of the tiniest thorn or could be even a drift of air; to him, you were something that meant to be put on a pedestal, more of a porcelain marionette that its sob was a shatter. 

A shy smile toned your lips while a heat bloomed on your cheeks. These simple words felt like a pink cloud; soft and loving in a way so special another human couldn't know how to offer. Despite all of his thorns, Giorno carried a constant love for you, for all your flaws and each speck of dust you stepped on, for every breath you took and word you uttered. His tiring Jealousy was dark, but a side to the brightness of his affection's moon; none of it was out of pure malice.

He plastered a quick kiss to your cheek "We're not going to take long, just five minutes and we will come back home again. If you're a good girl, I'll consider taking you somewhere nice" 

You nodded. the same dreamy smile contouring your face with warmth. 

"Buongiorno, Don Giovanna!" a brunette greeted, with a soft voice of a spring rain. as you both stepped into the small orchard, her appearance welcomed you next.

Lovely. She was lovely, in every letter of the word and in every meaning of a tongue. 

Her skin, tan as a cloud's shadow, glowed under the morning's sun, refined as fine silk and smooth as fair sand. Her eyes sang for most of her loveliness- sorrel shade of brown, one of a rosewood or an orchid flower. you couldn't help but to stare. she smiled at you, revealing a row of pearls in her mouth.

"Welcome, Signora Giovanna, it's a pleasure to see you at last!" she swan gracefully, showing her full front; up from her amphora-shaped neck, middling to her tender cleavage and down to her hips that wrapped felinely under a pencil skirt.

Your shy smile must have conveyed something else for her. as she extended her hand for you, you took it a little stronger than you intended, causing her to pull you a little bit closer as to ease your nerves with a friendly gesture. Now looking at her through a distance she deserved to be beheld at, you noticed how a dark mole complimented under her left eye, as if it was a speck of black pearl's dust.

"Nice to see you Belladonna" 

"T-thank you" you gave her another grateful smile. 

"You're as pretty as I heard. no wonder that the Don is being such a genie" she chuckled, pulling on your heartstrings even more "He has quite a fair treasure. you're really something yourself, Signora" 

A laugh was all that you had to offer, words on your tongue weren't enough to mirror her flattery, one that kissed heat on your cheeks. She was just so sweet. 

"Tesorina?" It jumped to your attention now that her hand was still on yours. 

You glanced at your side, where Giorno stood up: his face twisted into sullen lineaments, green eyes darkened just a tad under. you conned all of his expressions as much as you remembered the palm of your hand; your heart sank at how a pleasant walk outside was bound to be ruined from the very first minutes, all thanks to a woman you barely knew. 

He pursed his lips in one tight line. as he ushered with his head to his side, you caught the drift and walked up to him.

"We're going home, now" 

"You do seem eager to gloat yourself in other people's attention, as if I don't give you enough already" 

"She was just being nice! none of what you're thinking was actually happening!" 

"Now having the audacity to lie in my face and deny what I've seen?!" 

"Nothing actually happened!" your hands flew around your head, while you did your best to compose your tone to be still. While he maintained his own anger at times you argued, he didn't want to hear your voice get louder at him in return. experiencing quarrels with him many times before, you knew that you were able to pacify things from your side by not fighting back, and saying what he wanted to hear the most.

"Gio…" you drew a meek smile "I don't have eyes on her at all. in fact, I don't see anyone else aside from you" 

His face remained still, clearly unimpressed by your words. you had to try better than this, and taking a step closer to him would start it.

"I'm really sorry if you've seen something you didn't like, but please believe me when I say that she didn't do anything direct to me, nor did I like her in any sense. She was just acting like a friend" 

He quirked an eyebrow "A friend? you call her a friend when she has her hands and eyes all over your body? you can't be this naive"

You felt a flutter in your heart. surely his paranoia was concerning ; yet you couldn't help but to feel a pang of guilt at letting him think that you weren't interested in him anymore. The idea of you preferring someone else over him was still carved in his head, and probably will never be erased unless you manage to prove your true loyalty to him. 

"Did she? I didn't notice at all. but can you please be a little nicer next time in front of others? it was rude to treat someone like that" you rested your palms on his shoulders, now looking straight through his eyes.

"Don't ask me to be nice, everyone knows who you are and who I am. I don't like how she expects you to simply speak to her as if you aren't my wife" 

"Aww!" you just laughed, planting a kiss in hopes of softening his rigid face. He is handsome- a smile on his lips meant a heaven full of stars to you.

Warmly, he enveloped you in a tender embrace, thumbs cosseting the sides of your cheek. You let yourself melt in his form, feeling his lulling pulse and kneading lips on your ribs and face, never feeling so revered than ever. 

The description of the female character included in this piece was inspired from this oc.

#yandere jjba #yandere jjba x reader #yandere jojo x reader #yandere jojo's bizarre adventure #yandere jojo #jjba x reader #jjba x y/n #jjba x you #sfw #yandere giorno x reader #yandere giorno giovanna #yandere giogio #yandere giorno giovanna x reader #yandere giorno #giorno giovanna x reader #giorno x reader #giorno x y/n #giogio x reader #bygiornogiovanna #i feel like i rushed into this one

[sunspearesque]

The Bereaved Dunes

Summary:

In the Bereaved Dunes, where shadows weep, A tale of love and sorrow, bound to keep. Elia, my sun, in your memory I tread, Through sands of despair, where tears are shed. I should've taken you far away, my dear, To Dorne's warm embrace, where skies are clear. But fate had other plans, a cruel twist of hand, In the Bereaved Dunes, where sorrows expand.

A/N: I've often wondered, 'How did Oberyn receive the news of Elia's death? How did his mind grapple with such a profound tragedy?' This curiosity served as my inspiration for writing this piece. It is crucial to delve into the pivotal event that laid the foundation for all of his subsequent actions. This prologue marks the genesis of my upcoming series, 'Whispers of Vendetta,' wherein Elia's death remains canon (and I made use of some famous lines from ASOIAF books), though I've allowed myself creative freedom in depicting Oberyn's reaction and the events that follow. Big thanks to my sweet, sweet friend @palioom for her unwavering support <3 I hope this piece meets your liking xoxo

Rating: M

CW: angst; canon character death (Elia Martell); grief/mourning; sibling loss; brief description of death/injury

WC: 1.6K

Read on AO3 • moodboard

283 AC

"We cannot simply remain still… spineless, awaiting news of her safety and that of her children!" Oberyn's voice rang out, filled with fervor, as he directed his words at his elder brother.

Doran, vexed by his brother's persistence, hissed back in retort, "I've entrusted four of our most skilled soldiers with her protection, Oberyn! They will ensure her safety. Cease your incessant hovering!"

Oberyn's eyes bore into Doran's, smoldering with anger and worry, "They had better return with her unharmed, or I shall part their heads from their bodies myself!"

Twelve agonizing hours passed without any word of Elia. Silence hung heavy in the air, and Oberyn's unease deepened. He understood that the Dornish princess was not their highest priority, knowing that no one would make her safety their concern—not even her husband, the father of her children.

Her husband, that fucking bastard.

I should have spirited her and her two children away to Dorne the moment she sent for me. The instant he crowned that Stark girl as the queen of love and beauty, forsaking his own wife. I should have sensed the despair in her ever-saddened eyes. She sat there, abased and broken, her belly swollen with his child. Those smudged words in her letter, likely stained by her tears, should have served as reason enough to bring her back to Dorne, where she truly belonged among her people and her land.

Elia was no viper; she was more akin to a dove—gentle, serene, fragile yet resplendent, graceful, and generous to a fault. She was too generous for the rapacious beasts that surrounded her. Here in Dorne, she walked among vipers, none of them would ever harm her. In King's Landing, she had found herself surrounded by dragons and lions… who had torn her asunder, both figuratively and literally.

Every hour drifted by like a languid stream, sowing a tempest of dread deep within Oberyn's core. Why does no one share in my fear? Neither her kin, nor our people dwelling here. Why does the world remain unperturbed? Am I truly the only one who understands the depth of their malice? Their hatred for us? For her?

Oberyn paced his brother's solar ceaselessly, a restless specter, his sword ever-present at his side, primed for any declaration. Doran, seated nearby, muttered words beneath his breath, prayers? curses? who knows; their nature concealed in the shroud of his quiet contemplation.

Suddenly, the reverberation of frantic footfalls pierced the air, accompanied by the panting of a disheveled soldier. "My... My Princes, Your Highness," the soldier stammered, his voice trembling as tears welled up in his eyes. Words eluded him, his courage shattered. "They have… they've killed the King... they've taken the Princess's life... and her children's." Oberyn lunged forward, seizing the young man by the throat, his rage ignited like wildfire, "I will sever your vile tongue if such words pass your lips again!" he hissed, fury coursing through every fiber of his being. How dare he utter such blasphemy?

Doran shouted at him, a frantic plea to prevent his brother from inflicting harm. Oberyn's grip on the soldier's neck tightened, threatening to snap it in half, "how dare you speak her name with such lies!" Oberyn's face was but a hair's breadth away from the man's.

"Oberyn!" Doran's voice boomed louder now, snapping his brother from the abyss of his wrath.

Reluctantly, Oberyn released the man, who fell to his knees, coughing and gasping, muttering apologies amidst his tears, "I apologize, my prince... I apologize... I apologize," he babbled frantically, his form trembling.

Oberyn stood frozen in place, the world around him becoming a cacophony of muffled sounds. Blood surged in his ears and pounded in his head, rendering his limbs feeble and numb. The frantic movements of those around him and his older brother's inquiries and orders blurred into obscurity, leaving only the sensation of his own scalding skin, burning him alive. He longed to rip his garments from his body, to tear his flesh asunder, as the air grew oppressively thick and sweltering, suffocating him as if he were submerged beneath water. The tingling sensation in his fingertips and the throbbing pain in his right eye pierced his consciousness. It was as though he were aflame from within, feeling the molten flow of his blood beneath his searing skin.

Their shared life flashed before his eyes in an instant. He remembered her fragility, how he cradled her in his arms and heart. Those days when he pushed her wheelchair with gusto, eliciting laughter from her. She was a year his senior, yet her fragility and ailment demanded his physical protection. In turn, she fortified his spirit, offering solace in a world that sought to alter him. He visited her chamber daily, sharing tales of their parents and elder sibling, and she listened, offering comfort and understanding. He was her bastion, and she was his serenity. He was her army, and she was his peace. They were inseparable, and the notion of existence without one another seemed unfathomable.

The sun no longer bathed Dorne in its usual warmth on the day her remains returned to their homeland. That Dornish sun, once radiant, now dawned upon a lifetime burdened by sorrow. She had been his sun, his compass… and he, the unwavering sunflower, had turned to follow her every step. But now, he stood alone, adrift in a sea of grief and rage.

The maesters had begged him to avert his gaze, especially from her visage—or what remained of it, to be precise. They wished to preserve her memory, to shield the image of her serenity from the abhorrent tragedy she had endured. Oberyn, however, bore the weight of her demise squarely upon his own shoulders. He harbored the belief that it was his heedlessness, his momentary acquiescence to his brother’s commands, that had led to her tragic end. And as penance, he needed to engrave the gruesome sight of her shattered skull and broken mandible to his brain, so that the searing memory might forever scar his psyche.

He craved the pain, the unrelenting thirst for vengeance, for it was this anguish that would serve as a relentless reminder. He needed her tragic fate etched into the very fiber of his being, so that if ever a trace of empathy for these monsters dared to creep into his thoughts, the vivid memory of what they had stolen from him—the essence of his sweet Elia—would rip through his soul, leaving him wounded, but resolute in his pursuit of justice.

The absence of a sibling is an ineffable experience… alexithymic; one that defies the boundaries of expression. You see, a person's existence in this world is akin to that of a tree; the parents, the grandparents, and all the ancestors serve as the unwavering stem, the robust trunk that grounds and anchors one's very being. Your children, they are the intricate roots, extensions of your essence that traverse the world, existing as a continuation of you, and you, in turn, live life through them. But siblings... they are the branches.

To lose a sibling is to lose a part of yourself, a limb perhaps, one that may not kill you but certainly inflicts the agony of phantom pain. It lingers, this spectral ache, an ever-present reminder that punctuates your happiest moments, like a persistent thorn in your side, incessantly prodding you to remember what you have forfeited. It leaves behind a lingering melancholy, not potent enough to suffocate you to death, yet substantial enough to hinder the prospect of living life to its fullest.

But how does one even go about living life in the semblance of normalcy?

For a sibling is more than a mere bearer of shared genes; they are witnesses to your enduring connection with stubborn parents, companions in the labyrinthine maze of childhood, fellow travelers through the terrain of trauma. They are the ones who have beheld every facet of your being, every iteration of your existence.

In the years that followed, he embarked on a ceaseless flight, fleeing from her shadow, from the haunting memory of their love. Her name, once a melody on his tongue, now tasted acrid, too laden with pain to be cherished or recollected. His heart, once a sanctuary of devotion, was now filled with a venomous brew of hatred, anger, and an insatiable thirst for retribution. He yearned to hunt down every man across the Seven Kingdoms, to rend their flesh from bone with his own bare hands. Yet, deep within, he nurtured a more profound loathing—for himself, for his own frailty and cowardice.

Her death had sapped his strength, of that he was certain. He could no longer gaze upon the sun without wincing, nor could he behold the graceful palm trees that adorned every corner of Dorne without feeling his gut wrenching, as though it were on the verge of rupture. Even the taste of figs, her favored fruit, had become an agony to bear. And when he cast his eyes upon his own brother, he could not help but wish it had been he who suffered such a wretched fate, rather than his sweet Elia.

On bended knee, he knelt beside her sandstone tomb, on the eve of his departure from Dorne, where he would spend the impending years in solitude, far removed from the land they had once shared. Whispering amidst tears that welled in his eyes and his aching heart, And unbowed, unbent, and unbroken, you must rest, my Sun.

#oberyn martell #elia martell #pedrostories #asoiaf #dorne #game of thrones #oberyn nymeros martell #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #angst #whispers of vendetta #wov #fan fic #fanfic #fanfiction #fan fiction #my writing #aura’s fics

[ezlo-x]

I want to talk abt my au’s hyrule professions n jobs and what not (undercut cause its LONGG)

Travelers - typically tourists who explore populated areas of Hyrule like stables/cities/villages/towns. They are prone to have basic skills of wielding a weapon or no skills at all. Typically known as a tourist, tend to either travel alone or with a pair

Traveling Merchants - Folks who explore across Hyrule to sell their merchandise. Modern merchants usually sell rather than trade, Old-School merchants that trade are hard to come by. Usually travel by horse or foot, have basic weapon skills. Mostly stop by Stables, usually travel alone.

Treasure Hunters - Travelers who explore Hyrule for its long forgotten history and treasure. They avoid populated areas except for stables. Much more skilled on wielding a weapon than your average traveler, usually travel in pairs.

Monster Hunters - Travelers who explore Hyrule to control the monster population in populated areas. MonHunters usually kill small to medium sized monsters. Are only there to kill the monster and get payed if they get hired by a head stableworker. Usually travel in groups of 4/5

Apex Monster Hunters - Hunters who specify on killing large scale monsters. Methods on fighting a monster varies depending monster, culture, and race. They are usually hired or work for a stable/town. Have unique methods on killing a monster so their internal organs do not get harmed as they are pretty valuable. Apex Hunters usually have a monstrologist on their team to study the large monster upclose - Dodongo Hunter - Sub-category of Monster Hunters from Goron City who specify on hunting Talus Dodongos. There are ranks but I’ll go into detail abt that in a separate post. Dodongo Hunters hunt in large groups from 10-20 gorons. Gorons Lords usually are up to the challenge to hunt a Talus on their own, to prove their worth and leadership to the city - Molduga Hunter - Another sub-category of Monster Hunters from Gerudo Town who specify on hunting Moldugas. They hunt in medium sized groups from 5-7 hunters. It is recommended to never hunt Moldugas alone or as a pair as unexpected events may happen dwelling beneath the sands. Gerudo Captains are usually the head operator of these hunts. In this sub-category of Molduga Hunters, there is the Molduking Slayer. Molduking Slayers are practically non-existent as the ones who attempt to hunt one, never return.

Monstrologist - one who specifies on studying monsters. Typically they also have a specialty in either zoology, entomologist, or marine biologist. They can also be a Monster Hunter themselves, to learn and study the anatomy and behavior of a monster upclose. - Malotologist - A sub-category of Monstrologist who study Malice and behaviors it does when it infects either a person, animal, or monster. They typically travel alone and warn anyone about Malice

Blacksmith - One who builds makes iron weapons. Blacksmiths vary from region to region and can have different methods of creating an iron weapon. - Gunsmith - Only in Goron City, young blacksmiths take the specialty of creating Mech Bows that are specifically for Dodongo Hunting. - Ancientsmith - Sheikah who's specialty is to restore Ancient Sheikah weapons of the far past. There are not many of them especially after the Attack of the Calamity, only one person in Hyrule remains to create Ancient Sheikah weapons - Bowyer and Fletcher - Bowyers create bows while Fletchers make arrows. They can be found in almost every region but it is most common to find them in Rito populated areas

Sheikah Archeologist - Sheikah who study their ancient culture and technology. This field was steadily growing until the Attack of the Calamity made majority of the Ancient Tech go haywire. It had made people who interested to study this field be weary, especially when there are only two people in Hyrule who are specialized in this.

#i could keep on going but I'll leave it there <3 #tloz au txt

[newtabfics]

Twisted. Ganondorf x Zonai Princess Fic. Chapter 5(FINALE): At His Side

Summary: Ganondorf notices the way the princess shies away from him and enacts a plan to manipulate her. Little does he know, Zonai are much more animalistic than the stories lead him to believe. You can't fight your instinct when it comes to your mate. Triggers for manipulation on ganondorf's part. Hypnosis/Mind Control magic. Murder. blood. But more, oh so more importantly...We do be fucking Ganondorf so like...snoo-snoo ;)

Part 1

The sand swirled in the desert and began to cover Gerudo Town in its storm. Strange formations–nests–began to form outside the city, letting the dead fall down like maggots into the sand. Gidbos slowly began to swarm the street, provoking every woman into action as panic filled the streets.

Vai fled with the daughters. The warriors bled and fought. The princess of Hyrule could only watch as the sand bit into her skin.

She should've been horrified, she knew. Hylia's beautiful sky was blood red and the dead were stalking through the streets, killing one-by-one at the living. Yet, she could only stare in anticipation when a lone figure crossed through the northern gate.

Y/N's body shuddered in excitement at the realization that his scent somehow made his way to her. Her mate walked among the dead, eyes locked onto hers. His new form was something that sent everyone running. 

Anyone who dared to near him was grabbed by his malicious power and subdued, only to be finished by the Gibdos that staggered over to the crippled warrior.

She could only wait on that balcony, unable to leave the room because of that same power that overcame the warriors who dared to challenge him as he approached the palace, unaware of who he was.

He soon stood before her in this new form. Y/N could only stare in wonder before taking in the stone embedded in his forehead. She would be a fool to not recognize the secret stone gifted to her mother by her father.

"You killed her," she whispered as the scent of her mother's blood finally reached through her.

"I did," He said simply as he approached. "Does it fill you with hate?' he asked this almost tenderly, as though he needed her answer. His finger trailed gently over her cheek, burning his malice into her flesh.

Yet, she couldn't feel it. She could only close her eyes in comfort as she leaned into his touch, nuzzling into his palm.

"Anger, yes," She hummed. "But not hate. I…I think–"

"You needn't think of anything else," He commanded, sending a thrill through her body. "I will conquer your kingdom. I will ascend as the new god of this realm. You will be my bride, my wife. My prize."

Y/N couldn't help the unfiltered joy that radiated from her as his magic began to infect her, searing into her flesh happily as she stepped closer to him.

"My power is already beginning to change you and will continue to. You will be mine alone, bound to me. Can you truly say you do not hate me?" The demon asked, studying the half-Hylian as her arms wrapped around his waist.

Y/N, a slave to her body and his magic, simply smiled as her eyes slowly became a deep shade of red.

"I love you, my mate," she said happily. "I waited for you like a good wife, didn't I? My king looks glorious." She eyed him hungrily as she licked her lips. "A new form for me to worship. Can I be your first devoted follower?"

"I will claim you then," He snarled, shoving her to the bed. "Such a good princess. You waited as I commanded." His smirk grew wide when she quickly went to her hands and knees, presenting herself to him. He eyed the way her folds already seemed soaked, enamored by his presence. "You are my bride."

"Yes, my king," She whined as she let herself sink further into her madness of him. "I beg of you to use your bride, please."

As he pushed into her body, spreading her open on his cock, his magic twisted violently around her. The Gloom infected and consumed as it changed her. Ganondorf relished in every moan she let out as he thrust into her, watching her body shift.

Her hair began to nearly match his own, almost like a bastardized version of branding on her spirit. He smirked when she rocked against him eagerly, her skin burning with his power.

Ganondorf turned her on his cock, moaning at the sight. No longer was she the sweet, timid princess the kingdom so dearly loved, but instead a demon of his own making, a succubus in her own right.

He grinned and let out a victorious laugh as he buried himself into her, thrusting violently into her hole. He groaned as she planted her feet firmly on the edge of the bed, giving her the stability to properly meet his thrusts. Her wails of pleasure drowned out the terror mounting outside as the Blood Moon bore a heavy blanket over the country.

The demon relished in the way she orgasmed in response to his assault, eyes rolling back. Her body practically transformed into a beautiful debauchery of her former self, damning her to him for all eternity.

Y/N could only throw her hands over her head to grip the sheets as her back arched up, meeting his thrusts into her with a smile. His cock throbbed inside her, recognizing the gesture.

Though she fully anticipated he'd bury himself into her again, she found herself pitifully empty and thrown to her knees on the ground. The tip shoved against her lips and she opened her mouth to him as her fingers slid down.

Ganondorf smirked as he gripped her hair, stroking himself with his hand as he watched her look up at him needily with lust as she touched herself. She was sucking greedily for his seed and he was all the more happy to oblige.

His load pumped three shots into her mouth before pulling back, pumping the next several loads onto her face and bare chest.

The Demon King watched his bridge swallow his seed, sealing her to him as the gloom began to form a malicious form of armor over her frame, as though pathetically attempting to match him.

With his seed drying into her skin, he took her out to Hyrule. There, he watched her slaughter Hylian after Hylian with malicious pride in his bride.

All she could think, as she speared the guards who once protected her as they approached the palace, was how happy she was to be with her mate.

#totk ganondorf #gerudo king ganondorf #demon king ganondorf #ganondorf smut #ganondorf x fem!reader #demon king x fem!reader #tw gaslighting #tw manipulation #tw mind control #tw brainwashing #twisted series