#the blind era is coming to an end | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

murdrdocs · 2 months

Text

to forever always

description. LUKE CASTELLAN has never had any interest in relationships. but when he sees that look in your eyes, the same one he keeps buried deep down inside of himself, there's nothing more he wants than for you to be with him. except, maybe for you to be like him.

includes. SMUT MDNI 18+ , heavy petting, grinding, making out, dark!luke, loser!luke, dark!reader, implications to maiming, luke is a professional at longing, reader has hair long enough to be pinned back, they play simon says, typical young adult awkwardness, drinking.

wc: 5.5k+

a/n: title from forever always by the driver era. ao3 link. art creds to yazed aljohani

You’ve been at camp for nearly three months when Luke sees it in your eyes.

You’ve been unremarkable at best before then. A late arrival without a capturing story carried along with you, no captivating backstory to draw attention. You stuck to yourself mostly, only coming out of your shell when conversing during training sessions with Luke. He went out of his way to set them up, fueled by the fact that you were older than most, closest to his age, and he didn’t want you to feel left behind when some thirteen year old could easily disarm you in five minutes flat.

Truth be told, he pitied you.

As a result, he trained you four times a week, pushing your body to its limits and sharing anecdotes during your break periods to provide some sort of solace for you. Because at the end of the day, Camp Half Blood was your home. At least, that’s how it was supposed to be presented.

During his share of anecdotes, practically each story starting on that fateful day when he was fourteen, Luke left out his true feelings about the area surrounding you both. He preferred to keep you blinded with things happy enough to make you laugh, with only enough hints of the truth to make you start asking the right questions.

His attentive training has hardened you around the edges. He’s made you a little rougher, or perhaps he’s chiseled away at the stone encasing your true nature, and the person he stood next to was who you really were.

A warrior.

An animal.

Teeth bared, sword raised over the kid lying helplessly at your feet, your chest heaving with effort and a dark look in your eyes. Darker than Luke has ever seen before. It’s victorious, with a hint of a challenge in there. As if you’re daring this kid to stand up, gather his sword, and attempt to best you once more.

Surely, with the way Luke has trained you, if the kid did make an attempt he would end up in the same position in no time.

The sight is exhilarating. It makes the blood rush to Luke’s ears and his fingertips start to buzz with the fuel he’d never been able to use. But he’s in control here. And he has an image to uphold.

He calls your name, firm and demanding. The tone of a leader.

He rests a hand on the shoulder pad of your armor, pushing you back from the kid with enough force to distance you two. He fills the space created, his back to the others and his eyes cutting down at you. It takes you a second to lift your eyes to him, and when you do, when you look up at Luke—at your leader—you’re seething.

Luke really tries to hold his smile in and he’s glad that right now, you’re the only one who can see him.

“At ease. You got ‘em.”

You watch him pointedly, nostrils flared, and Luke lifts an eyebrow with a controlled movement, questioning you, daring you to challenge him.

You take a step back and rid the tension in your shoulders as you adjust your helmet.

You don’t say anything, instead sheathing your sword into its scabbard and watching Luke once more, waiting for orders.

He has trained you well.

‎

The energy around the campfire is palpable. It washes over the bodies of the campers surrounding the bonfire, settling over their skin and providing a glow. Even some of the Ares kids appear to be beaming, although they were clearly sour about another loss.

You, like everyone else, seem to be in good spirits too. A pleasant smile on your face as you watch the scene around you.

The fire burns a mesmerizing gold and Luke finds you watching it reach up toward the sky, your curious eyes taking in as much of it as you could. Your head is already tilted up, so you don’t adjust your position at all whenever Luke steps into perspective.

He stares down at you for a moment, searching for that look in your eyes. The same one he saw during capture the flag a few weeks ago.

Ever since then, Luke has developed a new fixation, one multiplied whenever he got a hit just a few days ago during training.

He’d had you on your knees then. Your chest heaving with exhaustion as you were staring up at Luke with a look so threatening that he wondered what exactly you were capable of. You were definitely at your wits end by that point, but that wasn’t when he saw it. Deep within your eyes was sincerity, maybe a bit of worry, and Luke knew that if he drew his sword down to give you a critical hit, a final blow even, you would defend yourself.

But that’s all.

He hadn’t felt the need to prepare for an opposing attack. He knew you would defend yourself, but not go for the attack. You wouldn’t hurt him. And that wouldn’t do.

So Luke laughed. He threw his head back and let out an exaggerated guffaw as he exclaimed that you looked perfect on your knees. As he insinuated that that was where you belonged. Beneath him. Beneath anyone.

His teasing did the trick. And he has a healing scar on the outside of his forearm to prove it.

Now, standing above you at the campfire, a setting so casual that it was almost sickening, Luke didn’t see any resemblance of anything challenging in your gaze.

Instead, you appear back to usual, sitting alongside a few of the Athena kids yet not actively engaging in conversation, holding a burnt marshmallow on a stick with two hands, your elbows resting on your knees as you look up at Luke with that same pleasant smile.

“This seat taken?”

He’s already sitting down as he asks it and if someone were to return, he knows they wouldn’t have attempted to reclaim their spot.

You stare over at him with amusement written all over your face.

“What if I said it was?”

Luke shrugs. He reaches over, sliding your stick out of your hand and sticking the marshmallow back into the fire. He lets it ignite, turning it over to do the same to the other side, and after a second he removes the sweet treat, extinguishes the flames, and takes a bite out of it.

You’re watching him, waiting for a response, and when you realize that he’d already given his response, you turn back to watch the fire instead.

He lets you sit in silence, slowly chewing through the sticky food as he watches the side of your face.

You look pretty like this. The amber glow of the fire illuminates your face, casting visually stunning shadows across your skin, highlighting places Luke has noticed but never appreciated until now.

He has always known you’re pretty. He’s known it since you walked into camp, confused and stunned as demigods clustered around you.

Luke remembers looking around at his fellow campers, noticing how judgmental they seemed. Because, in all honesty, you weren’t like the other people that came to Camp Half Blood. Not terrified, young, and lost in the world.

Not only were you older, but you had a certain stance to you that told Luke you weren’t confused, just curious. Your head was lifted, your shoulders pressed back as you held up the thick straps of your stuffed book bag. You were faking to be unbothered, but as you eventually confirmed Luke’s prior assumptions, you were worried.

Worried about the sea of young faces you saw. Worried that coming to Camp Half Blood at your age was a mistake.

Until your eyes met Luke’s. His dark eyes were watching you, analyzing your form for potential. Trying to find areas that could be molded into a fighter, and aspects that didn’t have to be changed one bit.

According to you, seeing Luke made you feel comfortable. Seeing Luke made you feel like coming to camp wasn’t a mistake at all.

He is glad that you arrived as well. Because before you, Luke felt alone.

He was looked up to, admired, respected, but rarely seen as just a peer.

And even further, before you got here, he hadn’t seen himself being romantic with anyone.

But now, sitting here with the gold of the fire affecting his mood in the same way he affects it, he has the sudden urge to intertwine your fingers with his or throw his arm over your shoulder. Maybe pull you into his side and plant his lips on yours, effectively claiming you as his and letting you claim him as yours.

Instead, he knocks his shoulder against yours.

“What’s got you looking so sad over there? We won today. You should be celebrating.”

You laugh a little, but it’s not one of the big and genuine ones you give him when he cracks an impressive joke.

“Give me something stronger than s'mores and maybe I’ll celebrate.”

Luke faces back towards the fire as he tells you, “that can be arranged”.

He notices you watching him from the corner of his eye. He can’t tell if you’re smiling, and if you are, if it’s one of genuine interest or one of amusement derived from misunderstanding his tone for a joke.

Either way, you hum. “Don’t tease me like that.”

He tilts his head a little. “Bold of you to assume that I’m teasing.”

He stares at you and a moment of understanding passes by.

Then, “but only if you tell me why you look so sad.”

Luke knows he’s a brave person. Hell, he took on a dragon at just seventeen and lived with nothing but a scar as a reminder. (And the plaguing nightmares but what the others didn’t know won’t hurt them)

But he feels a different form of bravery find him as he reaches a hand out, plants his thumb at the corner of your lips, and tugs upwards.

“You know what they say about turning that smile…” He lets the end of his sentence taper off, raising his eyebrows as if he expects you to finish the overdone phrase for him. It doesn’t surprise him when you swat his hand away instead.

He thinks he sees you hiding a smile when you turn away from him for a second but when you return with another marshmallow, sticking it on the end of the stick in between Luke’s hands, your face is neutral.

He thrusts the white into the burning gold as you begin to speak.

“Do you remember the first capture the flag win? When I was on defense with you?”

One side of the marshmallow ignites and Luke turns it around so the other can do the same.

“When you were taking down the others? Of course I do.”

(Luke resists the urge to add a mention of how attractive you looked then. He doesn’t know how you would take the comment in general, much less when you seem to be going through some sort of moral battle)

“Yeah.” You take a moment.

Luke takes the marshmallow out and blows on it. He lets it cool.

“I didn’t feel like myself then,” you eventually admit.

“What d’you mean?”

You shrug. “I dunno. I felt … meaner. Like–”

“Like you wanted to hurt someone?”

When you nod, you’re staring down at the ground, refusing to look up at Luke.

He doesn’t know why he does it, but he lies.

“That’s normal for demigods.”

That gets your attention. You look over at Luke with hope in your eyes, the pair shining in the light as they flicker back and forth between Luke’s own gaze.

“Really?”

Not allowed to back down now, Luke nods.

“Yeah. That rage you have within you. The need to beat someone, to be better than someone. I feel it all the time.” And that, that right there, is the stone cold truth.

He’s never admitted it to anyone else before, but with you, things feel different. He figures that this feeling he has around you is what some religious people feel in their faith. Maybe what some of the other believers at camp feel in regards to their parents.

Luke pops the marshmallow into his mouth whole.

You look relieved as you speak. He hadn’t noticed the tension in your body until it’s gone.

“So I’m not messed up?” Your voice is small, weak, insecure, almost.

Luke almost feels bad about lying to you.

Almost.

“Not any more than the rest of us.”

What he doesn’t say is: not any more than me.

As soon as his marshmallow is swallowed, he asks you to meet him later that night.

‎

Luke feels like he’s been waiting ages for you.

He’s paced a path in the dirt, twirled the small dagger he kept on him until his fingers could no longer grip the handle comfortably, and he’s started to gnaw on his bottom lip in anticipation that at this point he worries that they aren’t kissable anymore. Because no matter how much he tries to lie to himself, he invited you out to the clearing that you train in with one intention in mind.

He digs into the pocket of his cargos, searching for a second before his fingers wrap around the small tube of chapstick he got from one of his sisters. Cherry flavored, artificially so, but it still smells pleasant enough. Whenever he’d received it from her it was fresh, the seal unbroken, but since then he has used at least a quarter of its contents.

The balm glides over the broken pieces of skin, smoothing them out as best as possible, and then Luke recaps the tube and stuffs it back into his pocket.

It’s no sooner that the lip balm has found a home again that he hears the thud of a shoe against the soft ground behind him.

He doesn’t turn around, not yet. He doesn’t want to seem too eager. Instead, he twirls his knife again, a little slower this time to prevent it from slipping and falling onto the ground embarrassingly.

“Didn’t think I should’ve brought a weapon.”

Just the sound of your voice makes Luke’s insides flutter. He feels stupid, silly even, to have such a crush like this. He feels juvenile.

A smile briefly blooms across his face before he snips it off, turning around to look at you as neutrally as he can manage.

“You should always keep a weapon on you. Don’t you remember rule number one?”

Luke watches you reach behind your back for only a second before you brandish the dagger he’d given you for him to see, a triumphant smile on your lips.

“I’m a good listener. Don’t you remember?”

Proud, Luke tucks his dagger back into its holster and you do the same.

He takes a step closer to you as he proposes his next question, a hand reaching up to flick off an imaginary lash from your cheek. He doesn’t know why, but as of today he’s found himself touching you more. Searching for any reason to justify feeling your skin against his.

“How good of a listener are you?”

Your head tilts a bit, eyes squinting, and he realizes that it’s an action he does often. The implications of you picking up things from him makes his chest bloom with something. Pride, maybe?

“Try me.”

You step back, giving Luke a full view of your body.

He lets his eyes scan your frame once. Taking in your messy hair, pinned up for the night. Your sweatshirt with some school on it. Luke, not knowing much about the outside world, doesn’t know if it’s college or high school, much less its location. But it’s well worn in, clearly loved by you. You’ve paired it with a loose pair of pants, and Luke has suspicions that if he were looking at you from behind, the flowy material would perfectly outline your ass.

He clears his throat and meets your eyes again.

“Okay…” he thinks for a second. “Simon says: touch your nose.”

You snort, rolling your eyes, but then you lift your right hand, single out your pointer finger, and press it against the tip of your nose.

“Simon says: touch your toes.”

Luke watches, seeing if he’ll catch you, but you keep one hand situated on your nose and use the other to reach down to press your hand against the beat up end of your sneakers.

“Hm, okay,” Luke nods as if he’s impressed. Like you would struggle at a kids game.

“Simon says you can stop.”

You stand back up straight.

“Simon says: spin around twice.”

You spin around twice.

Instantly, without giving you a second to rest, “spin around a third time.”

You jerk for a second, but stay still in the end. Luke points, smiling a bit as if saying I almost had you.

You don’t respond but your lips curl up into a little embarrassed smile.

Luke continues giving you orders for a few moments, letting you get comfortable with the preface of “Simon says” just before he gives the final blow.

“Kiss me.”

There’s no order from Simon before it. Just Luke. He gauges your reaction. And when he sees you stay put, he tries to move on.

“Simon says–”

But then you’re walking towards him, and you’re reaching up to rest your hands on his shoulders, and you’re pulling him down to reach you better, and then you press your lips to his. It’s light, a barely there touch, and then you’re pulling away, walking back to your spot, and standing straight, waiting for your next order.

“I didn’t say Simon says.”

Proudly, you tell him, “I know.”

There’s a moment where the only noise is that of nature. Of the harmony of the world existing around this possibly unharmonious moment. The brief balance could easily be thrown off by your reaction to the next bit. If Luke were being dramatic, he would claim that your reaction determines the fate of the world, and maybe even of his mission.

He takes a breath, and then takes the plunge.

“Simon says: kiss me again.”

This time, your kiss is firmer. You’re standing on your toes a bit, overcompensating for Luke who still stands tall with his shoulders back and his head up.

Eventually, he dips his head down at the same time that he finally gets to touch you.

It’s small, nothing but a hand on your hip, but the context of it changes everything for him. He’s touched you before, brief presses of his fingers against a part of your body to emphasize a point, or correct your posture, and then earlier when he reached out for the delicate skin on your face.

Those things were friendly, that of a mentorship even.

Nothing to this degree.

You tilt your head and deepen the kiss, opening your mouth wider as you start to take control. And Luke hands it to you.

He grips the loose fabric of your pants, takes the tiniest step forward, and presses himself against you. In return, you nudge closer to him, holding the sides of his head and keeping him steady to allow yourself to explore his mouth.

He’s a little lost, he’s never gotten to this base with anyone before. Besides the time he kissed one of the Aphrodite kids as part of truth or dare years ago. But that kiss was nothing compared to this, not even on the same scale.

In this field, he’s inexperienced.

For fear of making a complete fool of himself, he simply mirrors in the form of reciprocation.

When you press your tongue into his mouth, he does the same, meeting you not quite in the middle and simply doing what you do.

There’s a moment there where you leave Luke’s lips, and he’s preparing himself to be upset when you pull away, but then your lips pucker and you suck his upper lip for just a split second, and you return to kissing him like his knees didn’t just get a little weak.

Fortunately, the slight lapse presses his crotch against yours again, and you suck in a breath when Luke accidentally grinds his boner into you.

Sensing that it’s something good, and satisfied that he’s not the only one as aroused as he is, he does it again. This time intentionally.

He frees his grip on your pants to move his palms around, pressing into the top of your ass and the end of your back, pulling you closer to bump your crotches.

This time, you do peel away from his lips completely, but it’s to let out the prettiest sound Luke has ever heard.

Your eyebrows are pinched together a bit, your lips shining in the torch light and parted.

You’ve only been apart for a couple of seconds, but Luke is on you again.

He sacrifices the grip he has on your lower half to stretch his hand along the connection of the back of your skull and neck, fingers spreading as far as the tip of your spine to an inch into your scalp.

He lets go of the insecurities he has in his lack of experience and just kisses you. His immediate intention isn’t to take control from you. Rather, it’s just to have you as close to him as possible.

You respond eagerly. Arching into him, slinking your arms over his shoulders, pressing your hands into the muscles along his back. At one point, you lift your leg and nudge your knee against Luke’s side by way of getting even closer to him. The position change allows the first real touch of your centers together and your head falls back, exposing the pretty sight of your jugular to him.

There’s a moment there where Luke has the urge to wrap his hand around it. But he fears what your reaction would be so he flexes his hand, and lets the thought evaporate into the stiff night air.

Luke knows that he feels as he does because of the hormones swirling throughout his body, but he has the feeling that he can trust you. Really trust you. Enough to tell you everything he’s ever wanted to tell anybody.

“Do you trust me?” He says it to you, his hand pulling your head back towards his, your lips mere centimeters a part.

You nod, the tip of your nose nudging against his with each movement.

Luke kisses you once, then tells you, “the gods, they–”.

He doesn’t have a spiel planned, but his need to tell you everything has him covered. He knows that once he starts, he won’t be able to stop. Not until you understand your parents as he does.

You put an unexpected dent into Luke’s poorly conceived plan when you shake your head.

“Don’t wanna hear about the gods right now, Luke. Just wanna kiss you.”

And the way you say it, like it’s something you need rather than just want, makes Luke abide completely.

His free hand slips under your shirt, pressing his palm flat against your torso, and giving himself the first real press of skin on skin. He sighs, pulling away from your lips to knock his forehead against yours.

He slides his hand up until he finds where your bra would sit. But he doesn’t run into any more material. Instead, he reaches a hill, one he nudges his thumb against, reaching up until he finds the beginning of your areola. Then, as if he’s realizing that he’s going further than he should be, he pulls his head away and looks at you.

“Is this…?” The question makes him feel vulnerable. If he finishes it, he bares his wants out to you. And he knows that you have done the same for him already, but he doesn’t feel ready to invite the possibility of rejection.

So instead, he raises his eyebrows and waits for you to catch on.

You nod, biting down onto your lower lip. Your hands begin to search, too, leaving behind the sides of Luke’s face to tickle through the grown out hairs at the back of his head.

What follows is the most carnal display of want that Luke has ever been part of.

He starts by tweaking your nipples, applying light pressure and then smoothing it out when you moan. He watches your reactions to try and figure out what to do next, but luckily you end up pulling his hand away yourself, leading it to the elastic waistband of your pants. You look at him pleadingly, not needing to say what you want for Luke to take initiative.

Luckily, the favor is returned.

You unbutton his jeans, pull them down just enough, and reach a hand into the fabric, touching along the gingham pattern of his briefs.

There’s not much coordination to it at all, but it doesn’t seem to bother either of you. From how Luke sees it, you’re equal amounts of eager, pressing against each other in multiple areas as if you’re both attempting to fuse your bodies together.

In the excitement of it all, Luke accidentally bumps the heel of his palm against your center. He assumes that it would have hurt you, so he’s close to apologizing.

Until you moan.

That’s all it takes for Luke to push away the rest of his pride and insecurities. He takes a breath.

“Will you … can you show me what to do? How to make you feel good?”

Your reply is instant. “Two fingers.”

He singles out his pointer and middle finger.

“And then go...” You wrap your fingers around his wrist, pulling his touch up to find something that his fingers catch on, a bundle of nerves that apparently feels good for you. You nod, sighing out a small “right there”.

He feels a little dumb when he asks, “What do I do now?”

“Rub. Circles are best, but side to side works too.”

So that’s what he does.

He starts slow at first, the circles a little wide, but they feel good for you. You’re nodding, eyes fluttering shut a bit. You return your hand to Luke, pressing over his dick, and then sliding a little further down until you reach his balls.

He tries to hide his sound, but a hitch of his breath comes out anyway.

There’s a tree stump just behind you, a product of an accident Luke has yet to tell you about, but you direct him towards it, standing over him for a second when he falls back to sit on it. The two of you have sat on the stump a few times before, but never in this capacity.

Luke watches you climb over him, straddling his hips, and pushing your crotches together.

Then, you grind.

One of Luke’s hands finds your ass, the other reaches back to connect with what’s left of the tree, reclining his position just enough to provide more room. He lets you do the rest, spurring you on with little nods and small breaths.

It’s not like you can see him, not when your eyes are pinched shut.

Luke wants to join you. His eyes threaten to close and submerge him in a void that would enhance every single feeling. But closing his eyes means getting rid of this sight. And he never wants to forget what you look like right now.

There’s sweat beading along your hairline and running down the side of your face. Your face is one of relaxation, save for the tiniest crease of concentration between your eyebrows. Luke can tell that you’re warm, and not just by the perspiration. But clearly his training has been paying off because your body doesn’t show fatigue. Your muscles are still taunt, your movements are still languid. You don’t show any plans of stopping anytime soon.

And at first, that’s what Luke wants.

There’s a few moments where he’s lost in oblivion. Where he pictures the worst thing in the world happening, and it’s you getting off of him. The feeling is so delicious, your centers grinding together, bumping clumsily yet still working in both of your favors.

He doesn’t want it ever to end.

And then he cums.

Again, he tries to hide the sounds he makes. But a groan rips through his throat, jumping out of his mouth and falling directly onto the fabric of your shirt when he rests his forehead against your chest.

He uses you as an anchor, his big hands gripping any part of you that he can find. He grips your clothes as he attempts to tether himself to the here and now.

He’s huffing, spent even though he did none of the work. Eventually, he lifts his head to search for your lips, but then he winces when you keep going.

He’s speaking in fragments. He’s trying to communicate his sensitivity. But you only shake your head, speeding your hips up a bit more.

“Sorry, ‘m sorry. I’m almost there. Swear, Luke. I swear…” and it’s just then that Luke is presented with the prettiest image he’s ever seen.

When his lips are numb and there’s a wet patch pressing against his sensitive cock in his briefs, Luke remembers the alcohol he has stashed within a bush.

He presents it, feeling that same sense of pride spread through his chest whenever you seem delighted at the options, even though it’s just a box of hard seltzer one of his brothers snuck in at the beginning of the summer. When you ask him what it took to secure it, Luke brushes it off, not wanting to remember the poop scooping he’d doomed himself to.

But the sight of you grinning before bringing the first sip of a cracked open can to your lips makes it all worth it.

When you pull it away a bead of clear liquid snags on the corner of your lips. Luke’s eyes watch it glide down your chin, and before he can stop himself he reaches a hand out, once again feeling that bravery, and swipes his thumb at the liquid.

He brings his thumb to his mouth and sucks it clean, surprisingly pleased at the flavor.

You both make your way through multiple cans, and it’s only when there’s a slight slur to your words and a sway to your frame that you ask Luke about your parents. And not about the stories you’ve been told throughout school, or the glorious recounts about how they’ve helped their kids. But the truth. About how Luke feels.

And he turns to you, smiling gently, and begins to tell you, becoming more and more pleased as you begin to express the same outrage as him.

He doesn't have to question if you'll be a valuable ally. He doesn't have to feed you carefully worded lines to twist your mind into siding with him.

With you, it's natural. The same as it is with him.

‎

It’s exactly a week later. Another capture the flag day created a certain buzz that flowed throughout camp.

Earlier this morning, Luke was concerned about winning. That was before he found himself in a similar position as he did weeks ago.

Standing next to you in a clearing, no other campers around to witness something that will certainly be a sight to behold.

Just like before, you’re standing over a camper with your sword raised over his frightened frame. He’s pleading, but his words are useless. They fall to deaf ears.

“No maiming!” He exclaims. “It’s the rules, remember?” His words are spoken with a stutter, the tremor in his voice extremely obvious.

Briefly, Luke looks over to you only to find you already looking at him.

You’re waiting, body tense, ready to attack. All you need is the command.

“Do it.”

There’s a rip and a scream, and Luke’s eyes don’t leave your frame.

He watches the splatter of blood meet your cheek and for once, Luke doesn’t reach over to wipe it away. He leaves it there, leaving the evidence behind as he cups your face delicately, spreading his fingers to miss the crimson, and then using his hold to pull you close and press his lips to yours.

Easily, quickly, you submit to him.

You two haven’t shared things in the most intimate form, not yet at least, but he doesn’t need that with you. Looking in your eyes, seeing that same look that he sees in himself, Luke knows that having your legs spread around his hips with euphoria isn’t the most necessary thing in the world. He would love for it to happen, and he will revel in it when it does happen, but he knows that fucking you isn’t needed to guarantee your loyalty to him.

As you submit to him, smelling of musk derived from hard work, the evidence of your effort on your face, Luke knows that he’s already secured it.

He has your loyalty.

And he can’t shake the excitement he feels towards your potential. Because he knows that the fire blazing deep inside of you can’t be contained for much longer.

He just hopes your internal fire continues to work in his favor and never against it.

#lukesworld!#luke castellan x reader #luke castellan x you #dark!luke #celeste writes pjo #luke castellan smut

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1-800-kami · 8 months

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R U MINE? feat gojo satoru (II)

gojo satoru has got to be the picture definition of a stereotypical college frat boy. he’s cocky, loaded with his daddy’s money, and dangerously handsome. it seems like common sense to stay away from him since you’ll never get more than a one-night stand out of it.

that’s why you choose to turn a blind eye once you’ve come to the horrific realization: you’re in love with him. and you’re just itching to ask…

“are you mine tomorrow? or just mine tonight?”

IMPORTANT: this is part TWO (and the final part) of the r u mine? mini series. make sure to read part one of this fic before proceeding! :)

content: 5.4k words, afab!reader, rich college frat boy gojo, SMUT (fingering & unprotected sex.. wrap it before u tap it kids!) ANGST, (i listened to deftones while writing the breakup era LMAOO i was in my feels 😔) gojo "everything reminds me of her" satoru is really going thru it, idk how to feel about the ending tbh, cheating implications, kinda proofread ig, more emo gojo (u luv to see it)

author's note: guys. where do i even start?? first of all, thank u for all the support on the first part of this mini series!! we also hit 100 followers on this blog so tysm for supporting me n my writing <3 here's the long awaited part two (n also the finale) as i promised that i would get it out over the weekend! just a quick announcement that i may be a little bit more inactive from here on out.. mainly because classes r starting again nd im starting to get busier. i do have more fic plans though, (and a geto smut in my drafts? 👀) so i'll make time to write when i can! happy reading and thank u for all the support on this silly little series :)

tags: @soley613 @feariteriu @bear-likes-mushrooms @96jnie @keilaq1 @whydohumansss @luftyluft @fatbootymuncher (bold = i'm unable to tag u)

reblog and interact for a kiss ;)

everything’s been hazy.

you don’t really remember how you got home– you either waved down a cab or walked until you somehow found your house. either way, the alcohol is worsening the pounding in your ears. the straps of your dress are clinging terribly against your skin–you want to take it off, you want to wear something more comfortable, you want to just go to sleep, preferably forever… but you can’t bring yourself to.

you can’t even bring yourself to move.

so the rumors really were true? but why did gojo pursue so far just for you? why did gojo say those words to you when you spent the night together? why did gojo try so hard to convince you that night that he wanted to have sex with you because he loved you–and not solely because he wanted to have sex?

why did gojo lie to you?

another series of pings sound throughout the room, and you finally move to silence your phone. the noise is all so overwhelming. why the hell is your phone blowing up?

you check your notifications–mostly dms from people you don’t know, either asking if you and satoru were dating, or questioning you about what the hell happened at the party. you know that you’re gonna be the subject of gossip once you’re back at campus, and you hate it.

you were surprised at the numbers once you scrolled down your notification list a little further. ten missed calls from satoru, accompanied by a series of fifteen panicked messages. you open it, and you stare sadly at his contact photo and name, remembering the fond memory behind it. once you two actually started dating, you were merciful enough to add a heart next to his name, and even updated it to “toru”. he was elated at that.

you think you can barely even call him gojo now.

the most recent message was barely sent a minute ago. like it was on cue, you see the bright headlights pull up outside of your door. you wanted to sink into your couch and never resurface ever again.

you hear suguru’s car door open and close, and then frantic knocking outside. you walk to the door while sniffling, looking through the peephole just to confirm your suspicions. it was satoru.

“i can hear you crying through the door, y/n. i know you’re there.” he takes a deep inhale, and the tears start rolling down your cheeks again once you hear the complete and utter vulnerability in his voice. you just don’t know what to believe anymore. “shit, i’m crying too. well, i’m gonna explain myself even if you don’t care enough to listen to me. uhm, believe it or not, what happened at the party wasn’t my doing… at all. when you went to use the bathroom, this girl went up to me and started flirting with me, like she was waiting for you to leave or somethin’. i was g’na tell her to go fuck off but she pushed herself on my lap and before i could do anything about it you walked in and it was just all horrible timing and- god. i know it sounds unbelievable, right? you must think i’m terrible right now.”

“you don’t have to believe me. if i were in your shoes i wouldn’t know what to think either. i’m just… explaining what happened.”

there’s a long period of silence between you and satoru, aside from the occasional sniffling on both ends. you don’t know what to say. you want to believe him. you want to do nothing more than to open the door and let him hold you in his arms again, but you just don’t know what to think anymore. you poured your entire heart out to a man who you knew you shouldn’t be messing with, and now you don’t know who or what to believe. you feel like a fool, and you’re just tired. so damn tired. the silence feels asphyxiating, like it's tearing your relationship with satoru further and further apart the longer it draws on.

satoru is the first one to break the silence. “i’m guessing from the silent treatment that you don’t believe me. it’s okay, y/n. i’ll wait an eternity for you to forgive me because i’ll always choose you- fuck… over anything, and i hope you know that.”

your mind is a mess, and satoru’s words make it even messier.

i’ll wait an eternity for you

i’ll always choose you over anything

you put your head in your hands and sob. it hurts.

a minute passes–gojo hears you get up from where you’re sitting behind the door, and his heart fills with hope.

“i just… i just don’t know how to believe you, gojo.”

his heart breaks when he hears the door–presumably to your bedroom–open and close, leaving him alone with his shattered heart. his heart breaks when he takes in your voice, noticing how weak and exhausted you sounded. he wonders how much you’ve cried just from this past hour alone. his heart breaks once he realizes that he’s alone with his thoughts again, alone with the voice in his head that was berating him for not being able to prevent all of this if he hadn’t frozen up and just pushed her away the second that girl started flirting with him. finally, his heart breaks once it registers that you called him gojo–the last name that he shares with his corrupt and money-crazy family… the family he tries so hard to get away from. it was also the name you called him during the days that you barely trusted him.

now, he’s back to square one, and he has none of your trust again. this time, satoru swears that he’ll do anything in his power to get it back once more.

you didn’t come to school today.

there’s been nothing but radio silence on your end. gojo has sent you countless messages over the weekend asking how you’ve been, with the occasional desperate voicemail where he tells you that he loves and misses you. you’ve turned off your read receipts, so gojo doesn’t even know if you’ve seen his texts or listened to his voicemails. he’s concerned for you, even though he knows that he’s the reason behind all of this. he was hoping to talk things out with you today.. but you weren’t even here.

one thing gojo knew about you is that you cared deeply about your academics, and you wouldn’t miss attendance even if you were sick. it pains him to know that he was the reason that you weren’t here today. you were avoiding him, and he felt helpless.

he’s talked to geto—and the best advice that his best friend could offer was to “find proof that you didn’t cheat on her.” he’s right, though. the last thing you had said to gojo was that you don’t know how to believe if he’s telling the truth or not. gojo has absolutely no idea how to prove his fidelity to you, since words clearly weren’t enough. it frustrates him to no end.

gojo now knows that he feels absolutely lost. all when he’s not with you.

it feels nerve-wracking to walk the halls.

he remembers telling you the night that you slept together that he’d learned over time to drown out the rumors about him. he learned not to care about what other people thought about him, and he eventually became unaffected by the school’s gossip.

however, this time was different.

this time, he finds it difficult to drown out the rumors when he hears your name in them. he flinches every time someone whispers your name and his as he walks the halls, feeling that all eyes are on him. “i heard y/n and gojo broke up…” “they were dating?!” “yeah.. i didn’t believe it at first, either! apparently he…”

he doesn’t want to hear it, so he walks a little faster. it hasn’t felt this suffocating to be on campus in a while.

maybe that’s partially why you didn’t show up. rumors are hard to ignore if you don’t know how to shun them out.

gojo lets out a sigh. he decides that he’s going to ditch the rest of class. you weren’t here, he couldn’t talk to you, and he felt he was gonna go mad if he heard your name spoken by someone again, so he turns to leave, but flinches as he feels a hand lightly tap his shoulder.

“gojo-san?”

he turns around, with a girl that he’s never seen before standing in front of him… not that he pays attention to them in the first place, though. he raises his eyebrow in question, and the girl looks so nervous she might pass out. “i have to tell you something-“

“if it’s a love confession or whatever, i don’t want to hear it-“

“-no!” she flushes a deep shade of red, and he fights the urge to roll his eyes. she coughs awkwardly at his expression. “um, no.. it’s not that. please, just give me two minutes in the library. i have something to tell you.”

he decides to entertain this girl for a bit. he’d be lying if he said that he wasn’t curious about what she had to talk to him for. gojo sighs and says, “two minutes. that’s all you’re getting.”

“this is about the party last friday, no?” he says while taking a seat near one of the tables. he feels sick just being here. he’d never gone to the library before meeting you–as he had no reason to go here at all. then, he started accompanying you everywhere as he tried to win your heart. “study dates” were frequent here, and he even remembers forcefully changing his contact name and number on your phone during one of your dates.

gosh, everything literally reminds him of you. he can barely live like this.

she takes a seat across from him, and she shamefully nods at his words. “i went to the party on friday, and i just want to say i’m sorry-”

gojo gets up to leave. he can’t do this. he doesn’t need anyone’s pity. pity can’t change the fact that you still won’t talk to him. she panics as gojo is about to walk away. “wait!”

the librarian tells her to quiet down, and she mutters an apology. still, she persists. “please, just wait for two minutes… i need two minutes to explain myself. you promised you’d give me that.”

she stares at gojo, who hasn’t left yet, and takes that as her opportunity to speak. “i was a friend of… her,” he doesn’t need an explanation to know who she was talking about. “the reason why she came up to you was because of a dare i told her to do. she’s had a crush on you for a while now, so of course she was willing to flirt with you.”

“um, that was the dare, by the way. my friend told me to record it, because we were all drunk, and we thought it would be funny. just another memory to laugh at in the future, right? we didn’t know you were dating the girl you were with at the party. sorry but, we assumed she was just a fling… or something… we didn’t know she was your girlfriend.”

“yeah, i was dating the girl at the party.” gojo scoffs, and he feels his anger bubbling up again. “then your friend had to do that stupid dare, and she won’t fuckin’ talk to me now.”

“i’m sorry-”

“i don’t need your apologies. is that why you came up to me? to apologize so you don’t feel guilty about what happened anymore?” gojo sneers. he was right, though. guilt is ridden all over her face, and she can’t even meet his eyes. he’s about to leave, thinking that this entire conversation was useless, but gojo thinks back on what she said earlier.

“...my friend told me to record it…”

he turns back to look at her, which surprises her, to say the least. “hey, you said you recorded the dare, right?”

“uhm, yes.”

“so you still have the video?”

“it should be in my camera roll somewhere-”

“if you came here to apologize to me, then you should send me that video.” she looked a little horrified at his words, and gojo could almost laugh. “what? i’m not gonna do anything bad with it, god.”

she thinks about what gojo’s intentions could be with that video, and her eyes light up in recognition as she connects the dots from what he said beforehand. i was dating the girl at the party… then your friend had to do that stupid dare… and she won’t fuckin’ talk to me now.

she nods in understanding. this is the least she could do for him. she pulls out her phone, looking for the video, and says, “i hope you two make up soon, gojo-san.”

gojo satoru walks- no, runs out of that library with determination. determination as he finally has the video evidence of what happened at the party–his saving grace so he could finally get you to forgive him.

you miss him.

you miss him like hell, actually, and you blink at the messages he just sent you in complete disbelief.

you didn’t show up to class today because you were afraid. you were afraid to see satoru again, yes, but you were also afraid of what everyone else would say about you. the party was one thing, but the after-effects and the rumors were something completely different. you didn’t have the mental capacity to deal with that, unlike satoru, so you stayed home. all because you were afraid of what would happen on campus.

you just wish things would go back to how they were before… all of this happened. you didn’t want to admit it, but you’ve read all of satoru’s messages, and you’ve listened to all of his voicemails. you’ve cried to them. and it hurts because you’re still torn apart in the midst of your own feelings. and now, satoru wants to talk to you, because he’s been wanting to do nothing but fix everything between the two of you.

the doorbell rings, and you almost jump out of your skin.

you didn’t even know if you would open the door or not. despite that, you felt your body moving on its own, like you were relying on your own instincts. you washed your face to get rid of the dried tears on your cheeks, brushed the tangles out of your hair, and dressed into something more presentable. the next thing you know, you’re leaning against the wall next to the front entrance. your shadow is visible underneath the door, so satoru knows that you’re here.

“hi, y/n..” he sounded so nervous that you almost laughed, but you felt equally as terrified as him. “i have something to show you… uh, on my phone. if you don’t want to see me, it’s fine, i’ll just send it to you, but i’d really prefer if you open the door and we’ll talk about this inside-”

your hand is already reaching the door knob before you can even think about it. it’s such an impulse decision that you look at him in surprise once you open the door. it’s the first time you’ve seen him ever since you were at the party. it’s only been three days, but you can’t help but notice how his eyebags are more prominent, his eyes are a little redder, and he looks nothing short of exhausted.

“hey,” he manages to breathe out, his eyes meeting yours. “can i come in? please?”

you nod, too stunned to say anything, and he exhales in relief as he walks in. the two of you sit on the couch, and gojo notices how you’re keeping your distance from him. it breaks his heart a little.

he looks for the video on his phone and gets ready to show it to you. this is it. his last ditch effort for your forgiveness. he’s really fuckin’ hoping that this works. “i got this video from a girl who came to the party. it’s a recording of, um, what happened.”

he hands the phone over to you, and you take it skeptically, still choosing to keep silent. you press play, and you watch the recording. a shaky hand holds the camera, and the person behind it says, “holy shit, she’s actually doing it!” they're presumably talking to their friend, and the camera focuses on a girl walking over to gojo. your heart is pounding, eyes widening in recognition as you stare at her... the one who caused all of this in the first place.

the all too familiar girl comes up to him, saying something out of earshot. when gojo looks at her, completely uninterested, she pulls that move. the scene you saw at the party before you ran out. tears fill your eyes again, and you almost want to stop the video, but your interest is piqued at the next part.

..this… this part was something that you didn’t see. gojo angrily reacts at the girl’s move, with her falling on the floor as she looks at him, stunned at how furious he looks. the person behind the camera gasps, continuing to record out of shock as a crowd of people turn to stare at the two. geto eventually comes into the frame and takes gojo away from all the chaos. the video ends there, and you grip gojo’s phone shakily.

holy shit.

tears roll down your face, but this time, they’re tears of relief. you waste no time in hugging satoru, crying your heart out as you bury your face in his neck. you’re happy. you’re so fucking happy, and so relieved knowing that he didn’t lie to you. of course he didn’t.

“m’sorry-” you sniffle into his shoulder. gojo is so shocked at what was happening that it takes him a second to hug you back, but when he does, he starts crying. “m’so fucking sorry i didn’t believe you-”

“shh, it’s okay, it’s okay…” he says, and you only hug him tighter. “m’so tired, you know that? these past three days fucking sucked. i’m just so glad you’re in my arms again, fuck-”

“-i love you, i love you, i love you so fucking much, toru.” you repeat, laughing as you kiss him all over his face. it’s been a while since you said that to someone. you wipe his never-ending tears away, still in disbelief, and whisper, “you’re real. right? you’re actually here with me right now ‘nd i’m not dreaming, right?

“i’m very much real, baby.” he says, putting his forehead against yours as you take in his features again. “god, i missed that pretty face so much.”

he finally closes the gap between you two, pulling you into a much needed kiss. it’s a kiss filled with so many emotions–desperation, happiness, relief. satoru thinks his heart is finally whole again. he’s missed you. he’s missed you so fucking much, and you’ve missed him too.

you’re like an anchor to satoru. the light of his life that keeps him grounded. and god, he’s been apart from you for too long.

you reposition yourself as you’re deepening the kiss. you’re on his lap now, and you wrap your arms around his neck, tugging on his hair in desperation. “oh yeah? ‘y gonna do anything about it?"

“of course i am,” he says, hands roaming underneath your shirt as he caresses your bare waist. fuck. he needs you. right now. especially after thinking that he was about to lose you forever–for something that he didn’t even do. “i’m gonna show you just how much i missed you, baby.”

gojo can’t let you go.

you’re in your bedroom, and both of you waste no time undressing each other. he takes you in–all of you, in awe of every crevice of your body as he trails his hands further down your waist.

god, you’re so beautiful. “i can’t believe i almost lost you.”

his words are shaky, like he’s still uncertain that you’re real and you’re in his arms again. he can’t seem to break himself away from you, almost like you’ll disappear if he lets you go. “but i’m here now, toru.”

“i’m here to stay, and i’ll never let you go again… ‘m yours,” you whisper, and your words set a fire in him, fueling his body with nothing but desperation. desperation to have you right here, and right now.

he wastes no time in plunging two of his fingers in your cunt, and he groans at just how wet you are. “satoru-”

“fuck, you’re so wet… and it’s all for me,” he mutters, spreading your legs effortlessly when you try to close them, thighs shaking in pure pleasure. he adds another finger, and you already feel stretched to the brim, and you haven’t even taken him in yet. the thought of his cock inside of you makes you even wetter than you already are, and you look up at satoru with eyes full of lust and desire. “missed you so much, baby. missed you and your pretty little cunny,”

his fingers are long, and you whine at how full you feel right now. you’re so loud, and you don’t even care. right now, it’s just you and satoru finally feeling each other again. it’s only been three days, but it feels like you’ve been apart for years.

everything about this was filthy. from your erotic moans and the way your cunt squelched against his fingers… not to mention the vice grip you had on them- fuck, satoru thinks he can cum untouched just from watching you like this.

“haa-” you whimper when his fingers curl and hit that spot in your cunt that you can barely seem to reach on your own. it’s exhilarating, and only fuels the growing heat in your stomach. “toru- don’t stop- please, i’m close-”

“really?” he taunts, and it feels so fucking good–your head is numb, and the only thoughts filling your head are thoughts of satoru. the pleasure is too much, and you try to get away from him, but he keeps you in place, curling his fingers faster as punishment. “don’t run away from me, baby… be a good girl and just take it, yeah?”

“toru- fuck- i’m gonna cum, please-” you’re on the brink of release, but suddenly, he stops, ruining your orgasm. “no- wait-”

he pulls his fingers out, and you whine at the loss of stimulation. you were so close–why did he take that away from you? you try and swat at his hands, but he just takes his fingers and puts them in his mouth, locking his eyes with yours with a sly smile. “you taste so sweet, i can’t help it,”

“aww, is my baby mad ‘cause she didn’t get to cum?” he coos sarcastically, caging you in between his arms as he tilts your face up with his finger. “too bad… the only thing you’re cumming on tonight is on my cock.”

and with that, he eases his painfully hard member into your walls. your insides hugged him perfectly–it was like you were made just for him. you gasp once he’s fully sheathed himself inside of you. his fingers were already a lot to take in, but his cock was something completely different. he moans your name, barely keeping his cool. “fuck- you’re squeezing me so tight,”

“missed everything about you, baby. i need to hold you, please,” he pleads desperately, clasping your small hands against his. the size difference alone between the two of you almost makes him cum, but he holds himself back, choosing to bask in this intimate moment. he’s missed every part about this. “you ready f’me?-”

“-just fuck me, satoru, please-” he doesn’t need another confirmation from you.

he can’t bring himself to hold back. next thing you know, he’s fucking you into the mattress, and you feel the headboard shake at how fast satoru is going. fuck–you feel every part of him, every part of his cock as it slams against your tight hole. he’s so big, you feel yourself gasping for breath, and you moan out loud as you notice the prominent bulge forming in your stomach. it’s him, it’s all him, and it’s driving you mad.

satoru follows your eyes in the midst of all of this, and he watches everything in fascination. he decides to be a little mean, and presses his free hand against your stomach–it feels so good, you could almost scream at the pleasure. “you feel that, baby? that’s all me inside of you, hmm?”

“please-” the onset of pleasure feels so overwhelming, and tears fill your eyes. you feel an oncoming orgasm coming, and you know your release will hit you like a tidal wave. your heart is pounding, but satoru only grips your hand tighter and fucks you even harder. “oh, fuck!”

“m close, baby. are you g’na cum too?” he manages to say between pants, and you somehow nod, mind hazy and your release only coming closer. you feel your eyes rolling to the back of your head. “cum inside of me, toru- please- i need to feel you-”

gojo groans at your words, and you both cum together. you ride out your high, screaming as you spasm around his cock, the pleasure overfilling your senses until you’re trembling from it. he fills you up, staying inside of you as the two of you catch your breath. everything’s hazy, and you’re barely aware of your surroundings… it takes you a few minutes to recover.

“angel, are you with me?”

“yeah, fuck, just… give me a second.” you say, and gojo thinks that he would gladly give you all the time in the world if you needed it. he pulls out of you with a hiss, and his warm seed drips out of your cunny. it makes his cock twitch, but he knows that you’re probably not considering a round two right now.

when you come to your senses, you notice satoru–who put his clothes back on already, wiping your legs down with a rag. his touch is so soft, like he’s afraid to break you, unlike how he handled you just a moment ago. you look down and notice the bruises starting to form on your legs and waist. satoru looks guilty as he stares. “i didn’t go too rough with you, did i?”

“not at all,” you reassure him, and you see him soften up a little. “it felt really good, actually… thank you, toru.”

“s nothing. you know my girl only gets the best,” he teases, and you laugh. “i’m gonna go get you some new clothes and some water… i’ll be back, okay?”

you nod, closing your eyes again as satoru leaves the room. he’s back in two minutes, and he’s gently changing you into new clothes that he found in your drawer. you’re so tired that you can hardly move, so you let satoru do all the work. he caresses all of your bruises, apologizing again even if you already said that it was okay. he’s so gentle, a swift juxtaposition to what just happened beforehand, and so soft with you. once you’re clothed again, he brings a glass of water against your lips, and you greedily gulp it down as he keeps a hand on your back. he places it on the nightstand once you’re finished, and you grab his wrist after, tugging him back to the bed. “lay with me for a bit, toru.”

satoru doesn’t hesitate, laying down next to you on the bed and placing your head against his chest. your breathing is back to normal, and you feel his heart thumping against your ear. you wrap your arms around him, and satoru thinks that this moment is so domestic that he can’t help but daydream. he looks at your face, memorizing every feature about you with a lovesick look in his eyes. you’re so beautiful, so perfect, and he’s just so fucking glad that he didn’t lose you.

satoru thinks he could wake up to this everyday.

“you’re starin.” you say with an amused look on your face. gojo doesn’t even try to play it off. “what’s on your mind?”

“nothing. i just… love you so much, y/n.” he says, pulling you closer and kissing your forehead. satoru would trade anything if it meant that this moment wouldn’t end. “m so glad you chose me.”

“i think it’s the other way around,” you tease. “you chose me. ever since you saw me at the party, you’ve done nothing but try to win my heart.”

“how could i not? there was just something different about you compared to everyone else.” he reminisces about that night at the party, and how far he’s come with his relationship with you. he remembers that night like it just happened yesterday.

you sigh, almost like you were thinking about that night too. you pull him into a kiss, finally finding the courage within you to say a proper “i love you.” to the man who meant the world to you.

“i love you too, angel.” he says, and you snuggle into him tighter. “you know i’ll always choose you…”

“..from this life and into the next. i’m so glad you gave me a chance, y/n. i’ll forever be grateful to now be called your husband. i’m the luckiest man ever knowing that you let me into your life, and i’m the one who gets to read these vows to marry you. i cannot wait to spend the rest of my life with you. i love you so much, y/n gojo.” he’s crying. gojo satoru is crying, and he’s hardly ever cried before. though, that changed after he met you.

the last time he cried was during pre-k, and now he’s done it time and time again… all because of you. he cried once during your first argument with him, another during the night he thought he’d lost you forever, and then another when he finally had you in his arms again once he proved his innocence… and now, during his wedding, when he finally gets to call you his wife.

and when you share your kiss at the end of the ceremony to symbolize your togetherness, you hear all your friends cheering. mainly shoko, utahime, and geto. if you showed this very scene to shoko during your university years, she’d call you crazy, saying this would never happen. gojo satoru was once a man who’d never willingly committed in a relationship before, but you came into his life and you changed everything about him. it was like magic.

you pull away from the kiss, wiping his tears away and whispering against his lips, drowning out the crowd, “thank you.”

for memorizing all my favorite foods so you could buy them for me. for walking me to class every day. for making me fall in love with you that one day at the park. for waiting for me to slowly love you even when i was scared to love. for waiting for me even if i didn’t trust you. for loving me. for proving those rumors wrong. for proving that satoru gojo is actually capable of falling in love and pouring his heart out to the one he loves the most.

for everything that you have done to love me.

it was like gojo could hear all of your unspoken words. he smiles, letting one more tear roll down his cheek, and says, “it’s all worth it if it’s for you.”

thanks for reading <3 -kami.

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sophietv · 9 months

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Everything you need to know : Failed Coming Out 2019

This is an answer to an anon I've received.

I typed it all and Tumblr said there was an error when I went and tried to published it. So I had to type it all again but lost the anon....

Here's the question: could you tell me more about her wanting to come out in 2019? sorry for asking again I'm new on the fandom!

Hi!

It will be my pleasure! This is such an important part of the Gaylor Lore to know and understand, especially when you are new in the fandom.

This theory has been confirmed, but we'll get to it in a minute.

Also, I'm so sorry because learning about what went down during Lover Era is a transformative experiece in the Gaylor fandom, in a very heartbreaking way.

So back in 2019 Taylor wanted to come out with the Lover Era.

June 30th during the New York City Pride wich was also the Stonewall's 50th anniversary, was supposed to be the day it happened.

This date might be familiar to you, because it's the date we learned at the same time as Taylor about her masters being sold to Scooter Braun.

So let's start at the begining of all of this. I won't go through ALL the details because my post will never end. But I'll cover the most important ones.

Right at the begining of the year, insiders were already talking about the fact that Taylor was planing to come out that year in podcasts and blind items.

Then in March 6th (Karlie and Taylor's anniversary)

Taylor does a post hinting at this new era. The very first lyrics we get (We got hints at ME back in February):

Daylight the song is about Karlie. But this line specifically means coming out.

Stepping into the daylight, and letting everyone see the real you.

(Also worth noting the lesbian filter)

Taylor started being really loud in the posts she made from now on. Flagging rainbow, lesbian and bi colors every chances she got.

And flagging Butterflies. Wich is very important thematically in Lover and coming out.

Side note on the Butterfly meaning:

Remembre how in reputation, snake was a really important theme?

And how in Lover it switched to butterflies?

More specifically it switched to Snakes transforming into butterflies?

There's a species of butterflies, that when they are in the chrysalid phase of their transformation into a butterfly, can look like a snake if they feel unsafe or attacked in order to protect themselves.

Then, after the average 13 days waiting period, they transforms into a beautiful butterfly.

Basically what Taylor was doing, protecting herself during reputation with that "personna" like she described.

And now, she was ready to finally transforms and have a new beginning.

Here's a description of what butterflies means:

A powerful beacon of growth and new beginnings, the butterfly signifies the power of transformation and the incredible feats we can achieve when we trust ourselves. We all have the ability to listen to our innate wisdom, guide ourselves through difficult times, and emerge better and stronger than before.

The ME! of it all:

Ok back into the Lover Era timeline!

So all those rainbow posts were leading up to the first single: ME!

Even Taylor Nation was pretty loud about this (number of rainbows = number of days leading to ME! release):

3 days before ME! release, Taylor performs at the Time 100 Gala and it's the first and only time she switched so very clearly pronouns in the song, multiple times:

She sings repeatedly : I want HER midnights

And she even seems to be getting more and more confortable as the song goes on and singing it louder and louder.

She also looks at the crowd while singing it.

Then she releases ME!

That was really the first part of her coming out.

And honnestly, she shouldn't have had to do more than this.

ME! was released on April 26th.

April 26th in 2019 was Lesbian Visibility Day.

And she captionned the release with: ME! Out Now!

A song about how she is unique as a Lover...

That is without mentioning the amount of rainbows everywhere in that MV as well as other references.

Worth noting that in 2019 Lil NasX came out in a MV with the rainbow tower and was annoyed that people didn't get it?

Taylor also probably deadass thought that she made it obvious:

May & June 2019 leading up to the big coming out:

Taylor continues to be as loud as she can.

She makes a very generous donation to GLAAD:

She sings ME! every chances she gets, while flagging the Lesbian Flag.

Taylor Nation also keeps on being really loud:

And releases a song and music video about homophobia and includes herself front and centered in the LGBTQ+ community (represented by the Trailer park, note how Ryan Reynolds, the only straight person in the MV is outside of this park, not in it like Taylor).

With a bi flag wig...

So yeah, she was trying really hard to make people see her.

Christian Siriano and the dress...

Back in April, we learned that Christian Siriano (a fashion designer) was working on a project for Taylor:

In June, he started teasing us about a mistery rainbow dress for an unnknown person:

It was heavily rumored that it would be the dress used by Taylor to come out at the end of Pride Month.

He kind of confirmed it with this post:

Then. June 30th.

The New York City Pride.

Taylor planned to come out at the event.

Employees on site, starts to be warned about this (you can find some comments online).

Taylor learns at the same time as us that her masters were sold to Scooter Braun.

She never makes it to Pride.

And Billy Porter ends up wearing the dress:

But. You can see that the dress was not meant to be worn by him. It doesn't fit well and the "nude" parts shows that it was meant to be worn by a white person.

In 2022, Christian confirmed it by dueting a TikTok talking specifically about this.

He deleted it right after but you can still find it on TikTok: (X)

Last minutes changes to Lover:

We now know that Taylor scrapped two songs from Lover: All Of The Girls You Loved Before and Need.

All Of The Girls is really loud and very clearly talks about a girl. Wich Taylor couldn't afford if she didn't want to/couldn't come out.

London Boy was actually written and added really last minute to the album.

Really interesting, because this is her loudest song about her loving boyfriend. Wich is a brilliant thing to do if you want to limit the public speculation after all the flagging that you did...

We know it was last minute, because Taylor sampled it on Cold War from Cautious Clay. (X)

He was called in the middle of the night and had to approve the sample right away.

Interesting fact: Cold War was featured in Book Smart, a movie Taylor promoted that year.

The song plays during a lesbian sex scene...

The intro to London Boy is actually Idris Elba in a interview where he was talking about a charity where he sold a date with him.

You know, people paid to date him...

The shift in the Lover Era:

After this, you can start to see a shift. Where it was colorful sequin and rainbows everywhere with colorful choreography.

She now dresses in black, is incredibly sad and sings mostly accousting song.

Like her BBC 1 performance or Lover In Paris:

Miss Americana:

Miss Americana was supposed to be her coming out documentary.

It has been confirmed by the director of the project that a lot of footage has been scrapped.

Also, the documentary was supposed to be called : Is It Cool That I Said All That?

This is why the documentary sometimes feels like something is missing and some parts are rushed.

They tried to switch her coming out approach by making it her political activism era.

Taylor confirms it in Anti-Hero MV:

youtube

She's pierced through the heart by The Archer.

Her queerness starts showing (she's bleeding lavender glitters).

She tries to cover it up by taking the table cloth.

Her wanting to cover it spoils the dinner for everyone and they leave her.

And while she sings : "Did you hear my covert narcissism I disguise as altruism, Like some kind of congressman?"

She covers her queerness with a sticker : Vote For Me, For Everything

Confirming that the political activism during Lover Era and mostly Miss Americana was in fact really to cover the fact that she was already one foot out of the closet when they had to backtrack.

With this. Take a look at the closing scene of Miss Americana. When The Archer is playing in the background.

It's a montage of Taylor talking to someone and Taylor on the release night of Lover.

Look at what Taylor says...

Queerbaiting Backlash:

This might be the worse part in my opinion.

Since she was flagging so hard to come out.

Sadly, most people didn't get that that was exactly what she was trying to do.

And medias massively accused her of queerbaiting.

And using the queer community.

I'm still so mad and heartbroken about this....

reusing an old Twitter post...

Even queer fans...:

Frankly, speculating about her sexuality would have been way less damaging than this...

Songs about this event:

Taylor wrote a lot about this failed coming out.

The Archer, was her song about her anxiety about coming out. And begging her fans to stay.

I'm not gonna do a full lyrics analysis because this post is already a novel.

But read those lyrics with that in mind and you'll see how loud it is, and heartbreaking.

"I've got a hundred thrown out speeches I almost said to you"

Also. Worth noting that after Lover was released and she was not able to come out, she switched one lyric in that song.

Instead of "Combat, I'm ready for combat" singular (coming out was the combat she was ready to face)

She now sings every time "Combats, I'm ready for Combats", because coming out has turned into multiple battles that she has to face now...

Hoax:

Noticed how she says that all of her heroes die all alone in The Archer?

Her fear that if she comes out, all her fans would leave.

In Hoax she says: "You know the hero died so what's the point of keeping score movie for?"

Because with her Master Heist and everything, she was not able to be one of those heroes herself... The hero that she wanted to be died in that moment because she was unable to come out.

Edit: I messed up the lyrics. But it's even more telling. Because the movie she's talking about is Miss Americana, once she was unable to come out.

Evermore:

This song is litteraly her looking back at what happened and how she managed to process everything and ultimatly heal even though it felt at the start like she would never be able to.

"I've been down since July" - June 30th = failed coming out

"Motion capture, put me in a bad light" - Queerbaiting allegations. And Miss Americana being rebranded.

"Writting letters, adressed to the fire" - Her hundred thrown out speeches that she almost said.

"I rewind the tape, but all it does is pause, on the very moment all was lost" - June 30th...

"Sending signals, to be double crossed" - Her flagging strongly on her way to come out, only to be accused of queerbaiting.

Right Where You Left Me:

The restaurant is a metaphor for the closet.

"Sitting in a corner I haunt, cross legged in the dim light"

Doesn't really feel like a restaurant, but her hiding in the closet.

"I swear, you could hear a hairpin drop. Right when I felt the moment stopped"

Droping hairpins is giving hints that you are gay.

She was doing this very loudly right before she was kept from coming out.

"Dust collected on my pinned up hair"

Her hair are still pinned up because she was not able to come out. And dust collected over time that she spent forced in the closet.

Anti-Hero:

AH is really The Archer 2.0, and talks about the same fear of coming out and being abandonned.

The fact that she decided to depict herself as the Anti-Hero is both really interesting and heartbreaking.

Because to her, the hero was the version of herself that was able to come out...

Listen to Change in the perspective of being able to come out and change the face of the industry:

"Tonight we'll stand, get off our knees

Fight for what we've worked for all these years

And the battle was long, it's the fight of our lives

But we'll stand up champions tonight"

They were the Champions.

Side note: she sang this song at the ACMA in 2010, two weeks before Chely Wright's coming out.

When we know that she has knowed and worked with Chely since about 2007.

Then Taylor wrote Long Live one month after Chely Wright's coming out.

Listen to the song with the same perspective as Change now.

"You held your head like a hero, on a history book page"

Chely Wright came out in May 2010. Taylor wrote Long Live in June 2010.

Look at the parallels of both songs.

And now, look at her choice to name that song Anti-Hero after everything that hapenned....

She also wrote Long Story Short and The Great War about that event, but this is for another post and it's about how this event affected her relationship with Karlie.

How she thought she was betrayed but ultimately found out it was not the case.

And how they both made it through.

Ok, I'm exhausted lol.

Sorry for writting a novel.

But this is such an important part of Taylor's history and I really wanted to do it justice (hope I was able to).

If you are still reading...Thank you for your question!

#kaylor #gaylor #lsk #lgbetty #gaylor twitter #gaylor swift #gaylor theory #anon

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mikavlcs · 1 year

Text

Dinosaur Talks

Pairing: Wednesday Addams x reader

Summary: You like to talk about dinosaurs, and Wednesday likes to listen.

Warnings: soft/ooc!wednesday (does this even need to be said)

Word count: 0.8k

Notes: this is literally just for 🦕 anon. i hope you enjoy it, dino<3

Masterlist

“The Mesozoic Era, also known as the Age of Dinosaurs, is comprised of three periods—the Triassic, Jurassic, and Cretaceous periods. The first real dinosaurs actually emerged in the middle of the Triassic period—aw, come on, Thing. A draw four? Really, man?”

Calm, somehow smug-sounding taps sounded from atop her bed followed by low mutterings about betrayal, but Wednesday paid it little mind.

Her fingers flew across the keys of her typewriter with a rhythm and purpose she had become well acquainted with. She was in what many referred to as the zone—when words surged from her like the rapids of a raging river.

It was a state of being achieved by having complete, unrelenting attention to the task at hand. A familiar feeling when it came to her writing.

You were in a similar state. Though instead of writing out the gory details of a detective’s crime scene like she was, you were entrenched in your ramblings about prehistoric creatures.

An interesting sight, but not an unfamiliar one to Wednesday or really anyone that knew you.

It was no secret that for whatever reason, you were very fond of dinosaurs.

They were a special interest of sorts, something you were exceedingly passionate about, and though she herself cared little about reptiles gone long extinct, she indulged you for reasons not entirely yet known to her.

“Fascinating,” she responded evenly, allowing her mind to file the information away with all of the other technically useless dinosaur-related factoids you’d voluntarily offered up over the months she had known you.

You shot her a smile that likely would’ve blinded her if she were looking directly at it. “I know right? How about you, Thing? You think it’s fascinating?”

Wednesday could picture him giving you an excited thumbs up in response, and the airy laugh you let out all but confirmed it.

“Okay, it’s your turn, bud. Yeah, I’ll keep going,” you took a breath, sat up a little straighter. “The Triassic period ended with an extinction event. A bunch of sudden, widespread volcanic eruptions wiped out all Triassic archosaurs apart from dinosaurs, pterosaurs, and crocodiles. This ushered in the…”

You trailed off slowly, animated frame going oddly still in her peripheral.

The abruptness of it made Wednesday spare you the smallest of glances, and she found you looking back at her, brows drawn, and bottom lip tucked between your teeth.

“Actually, uh…nevermind, I’ll save it for later. After you’re done writing.” You flashed a small smile then turned back to your game with Thing.

Quiet embraced the room. The only sounds that could be heard were the shuffling of cards and the occasional taps from Thing. And Wednesday should have been happy about the newfound peace, should have been able to put even more focus on her work. But she couldn’t.

Because suddenly, it was as if there was a dam halting the natural flow of her artistic river, causing the joints in her fingers to stiffen and her mind to go frustratingly blank.

Usually, it was the opposite. Enid’s incessant noise was a notorious distraction during her writing time and though she’d grown somewhat attached to her roommate, there were times when she wished she had a muzzle on hand so she could have just a moment of tranquility.

And yet now that she had the silence she normally longed for, she didn’t want it.

Her mind instead craved the timbre and intonation of your voice when you spoke about something with immense fervor. The space felt empty without it.

With a silent sigh, she set her hands on her lap and turned to you, momentarily giving you her full attention. “And what of the Jurassic period?”

Your head whipped to the side. “Huh?”

“That is the period that follows the Triassic period, correct?” she prompted.

You blinked a few times, clearly unsure, but an expectant raise of her brows was enough for you to take the extended olive branch.

“Well, yes,” you started up again, tone excited but informative, “the Jurassic period is indeed what followed the Triassic period, and thanks to Jurassic Park, it’s the most identifiable of the three. It was during this period that the first gigantic sauropod and theropod dinosaurs appeared—"

You looked away to continue your card game with Thing, words never faltering in the process, but Wednesday’s eyes stayed on you for just a bit longer.

Your ardor for these stupid dead animals was not cute—she refused to ever allow that word into her personal vocabulary—but it was something akin to that.

Endearing, perhaps. Possibly charming. Or maybe something even more…

No, that wasn’t a rabbit hole she was interested in diving into just yet, she decided.

Returning her gaze forward, she flexed her fingers experimentally, exhaling when she found them relaxed and ready, just as they were before.

Satisfied, Wednesday turned back to her typewriter and continued the paragraph she was working on, once again letting the currents of her creativity flow from her freely to the symphonically sweet sound of your voice.

#jenna gif ik but it's cute so who cares #wednesday #wednesday addams #wednesday addams x reader #wednesday addams x female reader #wednesday addams x you #wednesday addams imagine #jenna ortega

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seeingivy · 6 months

Text

high infidelity

satoru gojo x f!reader

do you really wanna know where I was april 29th?

**part of my satoru as taylor swift songs series

content: infidelity (omg who knew), yn is a doctor, satoru gets injured and haha ur still my emergency contact's his way back into your life, megumi and yuuji flirting side quest, a big hot flaming mess of writing this is actually so bad

an: no one say anything to me about this fic actually. or the fact that I made everyone do a poll about which taylor as gojo to write just to not write either of those options and produce a flaming, hot wreck of garbage. anyways, live love high infidelity this song will always be special to me because on april 29th, I was indeed, at the eras tour seeing mother for the first time

You swallow hard as the waitress walks up again, with that sheepish, awkward smile on her face. And you dread the unrelenting, embarrassing question that’s going to follow. One that she’s already asked, three times.

“Are you still waiting for someone or would you like to order?”

And you’re not sure why, but the fact that she asks the question, in that phrasing, in that tone, is enough to aggravate the very thin patience you already have. Because really, it’s quite possibly the stupidest question she could have asked.

Clearly, you are still waiting for someone. You’ve been sitting here for the past hour and a half. If you were really intent on eating at this restaurant alone, then you would have ordered the second they seated you.

And it’s rude, abrasive even. To ask, to relentlessly question, three times. Because obviously, you feel horrible for taking the table, when there’s a line of people patiently waiting by the door. And it’s not your fault that your boyfriend is late. And really, it’s just humiliating, that she keeps throwing it in your face, that you’re sitting here, alone when he should be here making you feel special.

You sigh, giving her a halfhearted smile.

“Can I have twenty more minutes? I promise I’ll leave after that and let you give the table to someone else.”

She smiles, genuine and sweet, as she places her hand on your shoulder and makes a promise to bring some more bread before you leave.

The premise of it - the fact that she smiled in earnest and must know that you feel horrible, that she has her own deposit of pity for you - has you bringing your fingers up to your forehead and massaging that small, pulsating feeling by your temples. Because here you were, mentally cussing out the poor girl working minimum wage at the restaurant when the real subject of your wrath couldn’t even be bothered to show up.

And you hate that the negativity, the frustrations of the situation, seem to bleed into everything else. Because you’ll find yourself being upset with Yuri, but then suddenly it turns into a blind agitation to everything. The barista, for not making your coffee right, your co-workers asking to switch shifts so they can go on a trip with their partners, the laundry machine when it stops working.

Your phone starts incessantly buzzing on the table, the smallest glimmer of hope sparking in your chest at the sound. And instantly dies, when you realize it’s just the Emergency Room calling you.

You slide open the call, pressing the phone to your ear.

“This is Tokyo Metropolitan Hospital. Is this a miss Y/N L- wait.” Megumi states into the phone, mumbling off the speaker.

You press the phone harder to your ear, to try to catch the end of the conversation that Yuuji must be having with Megumi.

“Y/N. Right, hi!” he states, voice halfheartedly cheery, which is already odd enough for him.

“Hi Megumi. Why are you calling me on my day off?” you deadpan, that backlogged deposit of irritation coming in hot and fresh for the sweetest resident you have.

“Right. Um, we have a mister Satoru Gojo in the Emergency Room who has you listed as his Emergency Contact. He’s kind of in bad shape so we were going to call regarding-”

“Gojo? I’ll be there in ten.” you respond, shoving the phone into your purse and leaving the tip flat on the tablecloth. You give the waitress - standing there with that restocked bread in her hand - a polite wave on the way out and speed as fast as you can to the hospital.

You march into the ER, rubbing warmth into your biceps, to find Megumi at the nurses station, as always, flirting with the pink haired student nurse he’s taken a keen liking to.

“Hey. Where is he?” you ask, Yuuji and Megumi turning their heads to give you half hearted smiles. It’s only the start of the night shift, but by the way their shoulders are already sagging, you can tell whoever has to deal with them has a long night ahead of them.

“Right sooooo. We can’t decipher any of his paperwork. We need you to read it first and then you can see him. He’s in room eleven.” Yuuji states, giving a peachy smile, as you scan over Gojo’s characteristic illegible handwriting.

“Jesus. He still writes like a twelve year old.” you murmur, filling out the sheet at the side with all the information Yuuji needed.

“You’re all dressed up, teach. What’s the occasion?” Megumi asks, lazily leaning his cheek in the palm of his hand.

“Ah. It’s my one year anniversary with Yuri. We were supposed to go to dinner.” you mumble, scratching the last of the information on the sheet and handing it to Yuuji.

You feel a hand sling around your shoulder and a distinct smell of smoke, only to find Shoko hanging off your frame.

“And yet here you are, because he didn’t show up.” she murmurs, earning you a set of wide eyes as you glare at Shoko. Because at their core, Yuuji and Megumi are first, definitely crushing on each other, and second, nosy as hell.

“And here you are. Destroying every last cell in your lungs, that are eagerly, earnestly begging you to stop.” you deadpan.

She flicks your nose as you finish filling out the sheet and reading through the paramedics report that was attached to his paperwork.

“Please tell me you attacked Yuri at the dinner table and that’s why you’re here. Fork to the hand? Spoon in the eye? Knife to the dick?” Shoko asks, excitedly.

“Didn’t you like take an oath? For the preservation of human life?” Megumi deadpans.

“No. I skipped that day of medical school.” Shoko replies.

“Gojo’s here, I’m still his emergency contact.” you respond back, giving her a pointed glare.

“What happened?”

You turn your head expectantly to Megumi, who obliges.

“His car got t-boned. He’s pretty roughed up.” Megumi responds.

You give Shoko a weary look, as you march to the other side of the unit, preparing yourself for whatever roughed up version of Gojo you were about to be greeted with. Because every interaction with Gojo was a rush of emotions - good, bad, sweet, and ugly - but this might be the biggest thing you’ve ever had to stomach yet.

“So. Who is this Satoru guy? I’ve never heard of him before.” Megumi asks Shoko, giving Yuuji an all knowing glance.

“Her ex-boyfriend.” Shoko responds.

“No way. Before that asshat Yuri?” Yuuji asks, suddenly too invested in the story all together.

“Well, obviously. He taught as a professor at the same medical school she attended.”

“Y/N dated a professor?” Megumi asks, tone incredulous.

“I mean that’s one way to get through I guess.” Yuuji adds.

Shoko smacks the top of Yuuji’s head, earning a fit of laughter from the two of them for his stupid comment.

“You need to focus on your nursing exams instead of flirting with Megumi on your fifteen. It would do you some good to flirt with your preceptor. And no, he was just a fellow doing research at the time. They were best friends for a good few years, had that whole will they won’t they vibe going on.” Shoko responds.

“So….did they?” Megumi asks.

“They did. To be honest, I can’t really remember why they broke up. Something stupid.” Shoko shrugs, giving the two of them shoves on the shoulder before walking past the hall, to find you standing in front of the door. Your hand is resting against the handle, but you have yet to yank down and push yourself in.

“Are you warming up the handle or…?”

You’re thrown out of your train of thought to find Shoko at your side, hands buried deep in her white coat as she gives you a weary glance. To anyone else, Shoko would seem wildly disinterested, almost annoyed at how you were acting. But you know better and can see that small twinge of concern buried under her long eyelashes, the hint of it in her voice.

“Oh. Um…no. Just got lost in thought.” you murmur, staring at the faded eleven on the marker.

“About?”

You swallow hard, the warm tears filling your eyes.

“I haven’t talked to him in so long. And the last time we talked we were arguing over…..leaving dishes in the sink. Breaking up. If I walk in there and he’s dead, that’s going to be the last thing I ever said to him.” you whisper, air grating against your throat.

Shoko puts a hand on your shoulder and squeezes once..

“He’s not dead. The monitor tech would have picked up on that.”

“The monitor tech? Are we talking about the same monitor tech? Because Nobara is too busy flirting with the phlebotomist Maki to ever do her job. They’re worse than Megumi and Yuuji.”

Shoko scoffs, before rolling her eyes at you.

“No one is worse than Megumi and Yuuji. Yuuji knocked the entire crash cart over when he clocked in because Megumi complimented his Star Wars themed scrubs.”

You snort, shaking your head, as you take a deep breath in and push the handle down. Shoko gives you a warm smile as you walk in and flick the lights on, only to see Satoru, sitting up in bed and lazily scrolling through the TV channels.

He looks over at you first, his eyes going wide, as you walk up to him and cup the side of his cheek. The tears that were welling in your eyes are falling in full flesh, at the sight of him all battered and bruised.

His snow white hair is matted red, an angry, glaring scratch on his forehead. His arm is littered with tiny cuts, with a good amount of dressing on his torso, the red blood already seeping through and the look on his face so broken and tired that it makes your heart twinge.

“Satoru.”

He smiles, albeit a little confused, as he looks up at you and brings his hand up to yours, where it’s resting against your face.

“Hey princess.”

You laugh through your sprout of tears, which has the smallest smile turning up on his cut up lips and the soft, faint smile lines appearing near his eyes.

“You here to patch me up, doc?” he whispers.

You shake your head incessantly, which has him rolling his eyes.

“Not today.”

“Shame. I heard having sex is really good for patient recovery.”

You smack his shoulder, biting hard down on your cheeks that Satoru Gojo, in full flesh, is okay. Because he still has the audacity to flirt with you, even when he’s near death in the hospital.

“I’m going to look at your chart, okay?”

You let go of his face and find yourself in front of the computer, logging in with your credentials, and trying to pull up his chart as fast as you can.

“If I found out you got into this accident because you were trying to find the perfect song before you got home, I’m going to put your head on a stick, Satoru Gojo” you murmur, earning a laugh from him.

“First and foremost, you always have to close the drive home on a banger. Sue me.”

“I think I might just.”

“And contrary to your beliefs, this accident actually wasn’t my fault. They crashed into me, naturally, because I do no wrong. Ever.” he states.

“Right.” you chuckle.

You read over the report, making it a point to berate Yuuji for his shitty charting later, as you look through his vital signs and blood cultures that were taken when he arrived here.

“So do all doctors dress like they’re about to go clubbing or is it just you?”��

You look down, only now noticing that you’re still wearing the a-line dress from the dinner you were supposed to have with Yuri. You make a mental note to shoot him a text after checking with Satoru after, knowing all too well that with how busy Yuri is, you standing him up would throw him over the edge.

“Just me. I really love to put on a show for my patients, Gojo. And what clubs are you going to where people dress like this?” you mutter, clicking through the scans that were taking.

“I appreciate the lengths you go to for me. It’s always what I loved about you. And I exclusively attend Taylor Swift night at the Underground” he states, placing his hands on his chest.

You look over and glare at him, before reading through the treatment plan. When you look over Nanami’s notes, you feel your heart drop and turn over to look at him. At his bright, blue eyes so wide and unaware, the look on his face so…innocent it bothers you. That in a few hours, he’s going to be in unspeakable pain while he recovers.

The door opens and Nanami and Yuuta are standing at the door, Nanami already scoffing at you.

“That’s confidential patient information, Dr. L/N.” Nanami states, voice stern. He hands you a jacket, which you pull on, as you hike your hands under your biceps and talk to him.

“You were going to tell me all of it anyways. So…what’s the plan here?” you grumble, settling next to Gojo at the side of his bed, placing your hands in his nearly pink hair.

“Well. I’m going to-”

“The surgical resident has to be Yuuta, I don’t trust that dumbass Todo to do it. You have to use prolene stitches, I don’t want his skin to scar and don’t leave him under for too long. He’s never been one to suit medications well. Don’t play any rap music when you’re operating, he hates that type of stuff and-”

Nanami puts his hands square on your shoulders, squeezing once.

“Thank you, Dr. L/N. We’ll talk all details after, okay?” Nanami states, voice soft, as you turn over to look at Gojo.

Gojo gives you a weak smile, which you return, before pushing his hair off of his forehead, and lightly brushing through the white tresses as he looks at them.

“Give it to me straight, Kento Bento.” Satoru states, earning an eye roll from Nanami who's clearly unamused. But you can tell he doesn’t mind it all too much, because in the monotony of shitty patients, he’s always been one to appreciate the sweet jokesters. And Satoru’s the biggest clown there is.

“It’s a relatively easy procedure, Satoru. We’re just going to go in and repair the damage that you sustained to your digestive tract from the crash. Do you have any questions for me?” Nanami asks.

“Can I request that she’s not in there when it happens?” Satoru asks, looking up at you.

“Hey. I can-”

“Yes. We’ll make sure of it.” Yuuta responds.

“Thank you, Yuuta.” Gojo responds, giving him a smile.

“We’ll be around in an hour to take you to surgery.” Nanami states, ignoring the pointed glare you were giving him as he strolls out of the room.

You turn to Gojo, the overstimulation of the past ten minutes really hitting you, as you feel your brain short circuit while he’s looking at you. You try to focus on the sensation of his hair in your hand and that pulsating beat that you’ve been feeling for his wrist, but you can’t really process any of it.

Every high and low you’ve experienced in the past few minutes - the elation in Gojo’s voice, the pain from seeing him suffering, how he’s still the same as you left him- it’s enough to abandon any rational thought processes from occurring in your head. And it leaves you standing there, silently, with your hands on him.

“Hi Y/N.”

“Hi ‘Toru.”

He smiles at the nickname, reaching forward to lace his fingers through yours.

“I was driving and then…I wasn’t. I looked up and all I could see was the stoplight above me, then the flashing lights of the ambulance, and now…you….looking at me like that. Your brain isn’t the only one hurting right now.”

“Looking at you ike what?” you murmur.

“Like you’re in pain, Y/N.” he states, emphasizing his syllables.

You shake your head, fighting down that wave of worry that’s sitting in your skin.

“You know, Kento’s a really good doctor. And Yuuta…he’s like the most promising surgical resident. And even then, I-I can get another senior surgeon if you don’t want a student. And-and it really won’t hurt that bad and I’ll make sure they give you all the good meds and-”

“Y/N.”

“Sorry. I’m sorry. I’m rambling. I know you’ve always hated that and I just-”

“I don’t hate it. Just, slow down for a second…talk me through all this because I really don’t know what’s going on and you know I don’t like not knowing.”

You pull up the chair, messing with his hands as you talk.

“You have to get surgery. The impact you had when you crashed led to-”

“Y/N. I know all of that already. I’m asking about you.”

You frown, swallowing hard, as you run your fingers along the scratch on his knuckles.

“You never update your current information.”

“Huh?”

“You….you never canceled the stupid Hulu subscription when we got the Disney Plus bundle. And you kept having to trek all the way across town to get the mail, because you forgot to change the address when we moved, and you-”

“I don’t really see how-”

“You forgot to change your emergency contact, Satoru. After we broke up, you-you forgot to call them and tell them that they shouldn’t call me.” you hum, as Gojo’s hand tightens in it’s hold around yours.

“Oh shit, Y/N. Sweetheart, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

You lurch up from your chair, tangling your arms around his neck as you crackle his head into your frame, that incessant stream of tears pouring down your eyes as he brings his own arms around yours.

And it feels too fast, because suddenly Nanami and Yuuta are back at your sides, giving you sympathetic glances as they wheel Gojo away and you’re left standing in the hallway, flat against the wall, every horrible outcome of the next four hours playing through your head.

On hour five, already a bad sign, you’re sitting flat against the floor with a jello cup in your hand and in Megumi’s spare pair of scrubs. They’re both sitting at your sides, the dead quiet of the night shift leaving them with you.

“Kento likes to be really careful, Y/N. That’s all it is.” Megumi states, giving his best attempts at calm reassurance.

“And Yuuta’s great. We all love Yuuta, he’s sweet….intelligent. He’s more than capable to do this.” Yuuji adds.

You crack through every last bone in your finger, the entire interaction playing over in your head.

“I-I just went in there so fast. And the time was so…so short that I didn’t even say much to him.” you respond, sighing.

“When’s Yuri coming?”

You turn your head to the side, in confusion, before you register Yuji’s words all together.

“Why would he-”

You panic, remembering that you had never texted Yuri back, that he’s probably fuming in his own pit of rage right now at his apartment, cursing your name to god knows what degree. You reach for your phone in your pocket, only to find no notifications from him. You scroll up on the chat, only to find that he hadn’t texted you the entire day, yesterday.

His last text read April 28th, a reminder that he needed you to pick up his drycleaning for his golf game this weekend.

“He’s really an asshole, isn’t he?” you spit.

You see Megumi and Yuuji give each other wide eyed looks over the top of your head, as you click your phone shut and let it fall to the ground.

Because in the dim lights of this hospital, with Satoru’s blood, some of it still smeared on the side of your hand, you feel like you’re seeing clearly for the first time in years.

That really, Yuri in actuality, is not the one for you. And it’s not that he’s a bad guy, he’s honorable in some sense really, but what he gives isn’t even a fraction close to what you want.

He’s tall and lanky. The type of guy to represent every portion of the food triangle in the three meals he ate. He wakes up at five in the morning to go to the gym before an entire day at work, and still somehow finds time to read and run a personal wellness blog when he gets home.

He’s classy, in every sense of the term. The exact type of man you envision when you think of someone put together, wholly and fully. On top of their shit, living their best life, one that people aspired to.

And that was in no way what you wanted.

You wanted Satoru. Satoru who convinces you that there’s still enough room for a little treat after dinner, despite the fact that you both stuffed yourself full at the restaurant. He sleeps in late on the weekends, pressing lazy kisses to your skin to wake you up before entirely botching the whole breakfast in bed thing he was trying to impress you with.

He was real, in every sense of the term. The type of person you envision when you imagine the person you wanted to spend the rest of your life with. He’s funny, he’s kind and he most certainly would never leave you stranded at a restaurant on your one year anniversary. Because Satoru Gojo certainly wasn’t classy, but he was honorable. And if he promised to be somewhere, he’d be there early, making sure everything was perfect before you got there.

And right now, two of your most trusted co-workers had their hands inside his body cavity, trying to fix the mess in there.

When Gojo comes to, there’s an aching soreness in his torso and neck. He can feel the tense pressure around his arms too, bandages wrapped around every square inch of his body. But that warm feeling around his wrist was entirely different from the rest.

He opens his eyes to find you, fast asleep with your head down on the side of his bed and your hand secured tightly around his wrist. Your breaths are slow, so deep in your sleep that you don’t even process Satoru moving around you amidst your slumber.

He brings his hand down to your hair and watches you lean into his touch, nuzzling your head closer to the blanket. Your hair is messy at this point, bunched up at the top of your head in the messiest knot he’s seen you sport yet.

There’s a knock at the door and Yuuji is standing there, a small smile on his face.

“Good morning, Mr. Gojo. Welcome back.”

Satoru smiles as he moves to his side and starts to hook him up to the monitors, taking a set of fresh vitals.

“How are you feeling?”

“Just sore, Yuuji. How are you?”

“Ah. Night shift. Same old.”

“Is that little emo you like here?”

Satoru watches Yuuji’s cheeks go bright pink, as he starts fumbling with the cuff around his hand.

“Ah, you mean, Megumi? Y/N’s resident? No, he-he’s off tonight.” he stumbles.

“Shame. Nothing like flirting on the night shift.” Satoru states, clicking his tongue.

“Oh, I don’t flirt with-”

“Well, you should. He’s cute. And a doctor. Someone is going to snatch him up real fast.” Satoru states, definitively.

“Mr. Gojo, I don’t know if-”

“Trust me. I know all too well. People swoop in for the doctors before you can even fight to get them back.” Satoru states, reaching down to tuck your hair behind your ear.

“Well, I-”

“I’m just saying, kid. Swoop in before it’s too late.” he states, giving him a smile.

“Yeah. Sure, I-I will. Do you need anything else, Mr. Gojo?”

“Can you get her a blanket? She always gets allergies when it’s too drafty in the room she’s sleeping in.”

Yuuji smiles, tapping on the railings of the bed.

“Sure thing.”

And Yuuji curses himself for doing it, for meddling, but he pokes his head into the room one last time before leaving.

“And just so you know. You….sometimes you think it’s too late to swoop. But it’s actually like…the perfect time. To swoop….like a bird or something, I don’t know-” Yuuji stammers.

And when Yuuji leaves and Gojo is able to process his words, he’s trying his best to wipe the smile off of his face.

“Hey, Megs. How are his vitals today?” you ask, swiveling over in your chair.

Megumi, irritated with your constant pestering, has had enough of his fill today. He swings his own chair around, tugging at the stethoscope around his neck, as he glares at you.

“For the hundredth time, your little boo boo bear is just fine. We’re planning to discharge tomorrow.”

You frown, reaching for the closest item - a roll of gauze - and throw it square in his face.

“He’s not my boo boo bear. And I’m just checking. You know he could have complications after the surgery like inf-”

“Infection, hypotension, septic shock, multiple system organ failure, yeah yeah. I know. I graduated top of my class at medical school, you know?”

“And yet here you are, being taught by Shoko. You’re clearly not that great if you’re being trained by a girl who cheated her way through medical school.”

“I’m going to leave. And when I’m gone, you’re going to be really pissed because you’re going to be stuck with some idiot that can’t even take vitals.” Megumi deadpans, swiveling back to his computer.

“No, you’re not. You’d never leave your boo boo bear hanging. Especially since he’s planning on asking you on a date tomorrow.”

“He’s not asking me on a date.” Megumi responds.

You smile, trying to swallow your laugh as you respond.

“Oh, sure he is. And-”

Your phone timer goes off, as you gleefully sprint out of your chair, and down the hall to Satoru’s room. Nanami’s in there, unwrapping his bandages, as you knock and enter to make your presence known. At the sight of you, Nanami’s glaring as you drag the chair up and sit at his side.

“Y/N. You should be working.”

“I’m on my lunch. And I’m allowed to do whatever I want for lunch.”

“You should eat something, Y/N. Instead of bothering our patients.” Nanami scolds, as he shuts the door behind you and you turn to Satoru.

Satoru looks way better, the bruising on his skin fading to yellow and the cuts all around his skin healing. He’s smiling softly, a hand cupping your cheek as he talks.

“Good morning, Y/N.”

“Hi Satoru.”

“You know, you really should eat something on your lunch break.”

“You know, you really should keep your annoying opinions to yourself.” you respond.

He scoffs, moving his hand to mess up your hair, as you swat his hands off.

“So.” Satoru states.

“So?”

“A little birdie told me that you broke up with Yuri last night.”

“Well, your little birdie was wrong. As nosy as he is, he clearly doesn’t know how to listen.”

You both laugh, Gojo slightly dejected by your response, as you lace your hands through his, and smile at your hands firmly pressed together.

“Yuuji’s got a bad case of the chismosa virus.”

“And you don’t? I heard you giggling with Shoko at the nurses station about how the emo is going to ask Yuuji on a date.”

“No, Yuuji's asking Megumi on the date. And okay, but that’s actually a big deal. I’ve been trying to set that up for months.”

“Well, you can’t take credit because I’m actually the one who got Yuuji to do it.”

You frown, reaching forward to pinch his cheeks.

“Shut up. It’s only the months of build up, that I basically created, that’s making him do it.”

“Well, I pushed him over the edge. So it’s my victory.”

You sigh, sitting back in your chair as you smile at him, at how easily you both fall back into this.

“How about we both did it?” you ask, giving him a smile.

“Sure. We always did make a good team.” he responds, making your cheeks burn.

You reach for his blanket and start moving his gown to inspect the incision, trying to make sure that the site wasn’t getting infected, from when you checked yesterday. .

“Okay, pervert. I didn’t realize you were into voyeurism.” Satoru says, incredulously.

“Gojo. Do you even know what voyeurism means?”

“Yeah. It’s people who like to have sex in public.”

You snort, moving the edge of the gown as you note the clean sutures, healing well along the length of his torso.

“That is not what voyeurism means, dumbass.”

“Sorry. I didn’t realize I was fighting with the sex kink expert here.”

“I-I’m not a sex kink expert! You’re just fucking stupid.”

“Oh, shut up.”

You roll your eyes, as you settle back into the chair, reaching forward to cup his face. He smiles, soft and warm, which you return.

“You’re healing really well. It’ll just be a faint line, right around your torso when you’re out of here.” you murmur.

“It kinda looks like I got my legs cut off and someone sewed them back on.” he murmurs.

“That’s not funny.” you deadpan, glaring at him.

“Kinda funny. That’s a really unfortunate way to die.” he responds.

“I know there’s a universe out there where that actually happens to you. And I know for a fact that Satoru doesn’t think it’s funny at all.”

“Okay, Doctor Strange. Let’s pipe down there, alright? Even if that did happen to me, I’d come back from it. Because guess what?”

“Don’t say it.” you groan.

“Because I’m the strongest.”

“You know that never gets less annoying right?”

“You love it.” he responds, reaching forward to pinch your cheek.

You look down, at your hand tangled in Satoru’s as you find a way to broach the topic. That for all intents and purposes, that you want nothing to do with Yuri. That you want him, that you do love his stupid jokes, that you’d beg on your hands and knees for him to take you back because-

“Do you want to go to the aquarium on Friday?” Satoru asks.

“The aquarium?”

“Yeah. We can take a picnic basket, eat on the lawn outside afterwards.” Satoru says.

You swallow the lump in your throat, aggressively nodding in response.

“Yeah. That sounds nice. We can um-carpool.”

“Sure. It’s a date.” he responds, leaning into his pillow with a soft smile on his face.

You bite down the stupid smile that’s rising to your cheeks, as you close your eyes, humming in agreement.

“Yeah. It’s a date.” you whisper back.

Eight days after the fact and Yuri, in his infinite wisdom, finally comes through. That’s when he musters the courage to bring himself to your apartment, where Satoru has been staying with you since he was discharged. And when Satoru answers the door, Yuri’s all levels of pissed.

“Who are you?” Yuri asks.

“I’m the owner of this house.” Gojo responds, trying not to laugh at his own joke.

“Did Y/N move?”

“No, dumbass. It was a joke.” he responds, rolling his eyes.

Satoru leans off of the door frame, calling for you, as you join him at his side.

“Hey, you okay? I was planning on making lunch for- oh.”

Satoru smiles, reaching forward to ruffle your hair, before he shuffles away.

“Holler if you need me.”

You shoot Satoru a grateful smile, infinitely thankful that the two of you were able to pick up right where you left off, as you turn to Yuri in your doorway.

“Where were you on Saturday?” he asks, arms crossed over his chest.

You swallow hard, rehearsing the speech you had prepared with Satoru when you were tangled in his arms last night, and make your best attempt to deliver the blow the best you can.

“Yuri. I think we should stop seeing each other.”

“What?”

“I just don’t think that we’re really compatible. You and I are…on different wavelengths. And you deserve someone who is better suited to you and your….interests.” you murmur, awkwardly rubbing your arms on your arms.

In actuality, you feel a little bit bad. That technically, you might have been…a little bit dishonest with Yuri. Because you’re having this conversation with him, days after the fact, when you’ve already done god knows what with Gojo in the past few days he’s been back with you. He’s all but living in your apartment at this point, under the premise of needing twenty four hour medical support, when really, you’re both just soaking up on time you lost.

Time is so precious, that you forgot to tell Yuri until he showed up, on your doorstep. You finally understand why Yuri was late to things, because whatever he was doing when he wasn’t with you, must have been keeping him occupied the way this was keeping you occupied.

Because you kept planning on calling him, but then Gojo would take you out to breakfast. Or you’d sleep in too late and then knew that you’d be interrupting Yuri at work. And the list, it went on and on and led you to this moment and it’s painfully awkward.

And maybe it’s bad, a little bit evil even, but that small bit of bad feeling is overshadowed by every bit of good that you’ve felt in the past few days. At Gojo ordering dessert out of nowhere, that he insists he’s sharing with you before he eats almost the entire thing, or when he drags you to the bathroom when he’s doing his night time hair care routine.

“Where were you? On Saturday?”

“Look, I just got called into work, okay?”

“Are you…are you serious? Don’t tell me you’re really dating that dumbass who just answered the door?”

“Frankly, it’s none of your business who I date anymore because you…you aren’t really a part of my life anymore. And we’re not dating, we’re just-”

“God. He flashes one pretty smile at you and you go running back to him? Need I remind you, that you complained about him for months on end. About how he’s messy, he’s careless, he’s-”

“That stuff doesn’t matter. At least not anymore.”

“You’re a bitch, you know that?”

You feel Gojo padding behind you, and you put your hand up in the air, signaling for him to stay where he is.

“Do you really want to know where I was on April 29th? On our one year anniversary, I was sitting in a shitty restaurant, for an hour and a half waiting for you to show up. When I hadn’t heard from you all day. And then I got a call, that the man that I love was in the hospital, and then I was at his side. Willing him to wake up, because I would be so fucking angry, so fucking pissed if he died and I didn’t get to tell him that he meant the world to me.”

Yuri swallows hard, the look of betrayal etched on his face.

“Are you trying to hurt me right now? Do you get some kind of sick gratification from killing the one you love?” he asks.

“I’d argue that my way is nicer actually. One fell swoop, with the truth out there. The slowest way to kill someone is never loving them enough. And honestly, it’s just cruel. And of course, something that you were too skilled at.”

You’re not sure what it is about what you said, but suddenly Yuri’s stomping down the hallway and you’re shutting the door, as the tears start pouring out of your eyes and you’re leaning against the door.

Now that Yuri’s gone, Satoru’s shed all his inhibitions and he’s cradling you straight in his arms, his soft voice cooing in your ear as you hiccup into his chest.

“Hey. You did so good, princess.”

“I-I’m not crying because I’m sad. I still…I still want you, you know?”

Satoru smiles, bringing his hands up to cup your cheeks in his hand and wipe your tears away.

“I know that, sweetheart. I’m irresistible.” he murmurs.

You lightly shove him, before resting your head against his torso, hearing the rapid beating of his heart under your ear.

“I’m just really relieved. That you-that you’re-”

You look up, at his sparkling blue eyes, the tiny fractals of color like perfectly constructed, charted constellations in his eyes.

“I’m glad you’re here. Again.”

He smiles wide, leaning forward to press his lips to your forehead.

“Me too, yeah?”

the satoru as taylor swift songs series masterlist

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wkemeup · 2 years

Text

In Every Lifetime

summary: When Bucky’s first love from the 1940′s is found alive in cyro, he begins to question whether you’d turn from him in fear or disgust.

pairing: bucky x reader

word count: 5k

warnings: angsty angst (with a happy ending), bucky’s sad internal dialogue,

Bucky had half a mind to wonder whether his heart might truly escape his chest. It pounded infernally against his rib cage; violently shaking against the bones until they splintered and cracked, he was certain he might look down at the SHIELD emblem on his sweatshirt to find blood soaking through the fabric. Or perhaps the bones of his sternum piercing through his skin. Hell, he might have left his heart on the tile a few paces behind him – throbbing on the ground, exposed to the elements.

He hadn’t so much as taken a breath since he caught word of what Stark uncovered in the Atlantic. It was only meant to be an exploratory mission; a simple means of honoring his father’s legacy by scanning the ocean depths in search of a history Howard had idolized in his time. Simple, apparently, to a billionaire with nothing but time on his well-manicured hands.

But Stark had uncovered a sunken Hydra warship instead; filled with stolen paintings, priceless jewels, and artifacts of a lost era. To the surprise of the men piloting the underwater craft, the ship had also housed dozens of cryochambers; ones occupied by German and Russian soldiers still dressed in their formal military garb and ice crystalized on their skin. Human bodies still preserved, still alive after decades on the ice.

There was only one chamber housed by a civilian – no, a prisoner.

Bucky had heard the whispered rumors through the hallway; seen the sharp eyes glancing curiously in his direction. He’d gotten used to it over the years, but there was something in the cautious hesitation of the agents around him that made the hair on his right arm stand on edge. They were waiting for him to snap. It was personal, he realized quickly – whatever Stark found.

Your name was only said once, but it was enough.

He ran until his legs felt weak; weaving through the seemingly endless hallways within the compound. On a decent day, agents cleared a direct path when they caught sight of Bucky. He’d walk with his head down, hands shoved tight into his pockets. He’d make himself as small and unthreatening as possible; baseball cap over his head and a long sleeve jacket to hide the blinding silver on his arm. Still – they carefully moved from his path as if he were little more than untrained animal.

This time – they spared no pretense of eggshells as they threw themselves towards the walls. Classified documents fluttered into the air when he nearly collided with a terrified intern though he managed to swerve just in time to put a dent into the wall instead. Tight gasps followed with hands flinching to weapons on hips in the sudden panic.

Bucky kept on – channeling his attention only on his next step. Only on the next tile under his foot.

He couldn’t allow himself to process what he might find at the end of the hallway. He couldn’t. Because then he’d think of the letters you'd once sent him when he was curled at the base of muddied trenches, how he’d clung to the fragile papers in his sleep and folded them tightly to the breast pocket of his shirt. He’d remember how he used to tap a hand against that same pocket each time he crossed the line into battle, how it had garnered him strength he hadn’t known he’d had. He’d let himself ache for the letters that kept him alive until the steel pipe fractured under his weight and he dropped into the ravine – the handwritten words he’d read over and over again until tear marks blurred the ink; letters of the future you’d planned when he returned home to you.

Bucky couldn’t allow himself to think of that, because then he’d wonder whether you cried when his letters stopped coming, if you’d grieved for him. He’d wonder whether something broke inside your chest when you realized he was never going to be yours again; if you sobbed and cursed at the world for taking away the one thing you ever dared to want for yourself. If you shattered like he had the day your image returned to his memory.

If he let himself think of you, he might question whether you’d found the future you had once promised him with someone else.

Bucky never had the courage to find out what happened to you after all these years. It was an act of masochism, he reasoned, to read about the love of his life in pages on a computer screen; moments he was supposed to share with you as you met him at the end of the aisle, as he held your hand as you gave him a child, as he kept you warm and safe and loved all your years. A life stolen from him by the war – by Hydra. A love he should have been able to give and earn in return.

He couldn’t put himself through the pain of knowing – to be an outside observer to a life he would have traded everything to have.

Bucky had loved you so fiercely, he couldn’t stomach the thought of someone else standing in his place. He wished for your happiness – always, above all else, at his own expensive if he must. But he would not torture himself with it.

So, he never dared to search for you after he escaped Hydra and found his memories again. He didn’t want to know whether your last name had changed, if you’d gone on to have a wonderfully happy life as if you’d never known him at all, if you had children you adored, if you now laid in a grave beside a man who wasn’t him.

The shame of it – the selfishness – ate him alive.

He wondered if you knew all that time as he held your letters in his shaking hands amongst the echo of gunfire that he would have sent his blistering soul across ocean currents in search of you, if only to grant you the love you deserved.

***

Bucky was only a few paces outside Stark’s main lab room when he hit a brunt wall of muscle.

“Buck, stop,” Steve warned, his hands digging sharply into Bucky’s shoulders as he tried to shove his way around his friend. His left arm gave no leeway to Steve’s strength, while his right began to ache under the pressure. Steve gritted his teeth, pushing Bucky to the edge of the hallway. “You gotta let me talk to you first.”

Through the windows, artifacts from the Hydra warship were laid out upon countertops, surrounded by dozens of techs as they methodically de-iced the valuables and cataloged classified information for Fury before it would be turned over to the proper channels. Further into the room were pieces of the ship itself as if Stark meant to reconstruct the damn thing on solid ground. Bucky winced at the massive emblem of the skull and tentacles painted on a large steel slab of the recovered ship – faded in its time and weathered by the water, but it still managed to meet his eye and mock him.

“Steve,” Bucky choked out, not sure what else he planned to say after that as he caught sight of the series of cryochambers lined up against the back wall. His heart clenched, as did his hands. “Tell me I’m wrong. Tell me... Tell me I’m being crazy. Tell me it’s not her.”

It was a curse to know his best friend as well as he did, Bucky realized. Because he could read every slip in the carefully constructed mask upon Steve’s face, every line on his ageless skin, every twitch of a muscle in his jawline. Steve released Bucky’s shoulders and his features warped into an awful expression of remorse. Corners of his lips tilting down, a slight clench of his teeth. A line crossing his forehead just above his brow.

Steve’s gaze slipped down to his feet and with it, Bucky's stomach.

“No,” Bucky all but whimpered, stumbling a single pace until his back met the glass. “No, she—she was supposed to be happy, Steve. She was supposed to move on with her life. How—How did she—”

“Stark’s got people working on it,” Steve answered quickly before Bucky could spiral further. Bucky’s focus shifted back the windows of the lab and as if Steve could read the next question on his friend’s mind, he said, “It’s really her, Buck. I don’t know how or why, but it’s her. And she’s alive.”

Bucky would have lost his balance if not for the wall propping his body up. He could still feel his heart beating somewhere in his chest – suffocating him, smothering him. Or maybe it was still laying on the ground by the doors to the east wing evading the careless steps of rookie agents rushing through their drills. Maybe his chest was empty. Maybe that was why he felt so numb.

“Is she awake?” His voice was barely a whisper.

Steve shook his head. “Sam is going to be there when she does.”

Bucky narrowed his eyes, a scoff that burned like jealously in his throat. “Sam?”

He earned a glare in return.

“We have to assume she still believes both of us to be dead, Buck,” Steve explained, resting a hand against his hip. “You can’t throw her into shock by just walking in the room. A lot had changed since she last saw you. She doesn’t know where she is or when she is. Her last memories will have been on that Hydra ship. She’ll likely be on defense from the moment she wakes.”

A sticky residue slid along Bucky’s palm and he looked down to find blood trickling from the ends of his fingers where he’d dug his nails into his skin. It was only then that he remembered the sleeve of metal on his left and the history it carried.

There was relief, he realized, in the stories he’d tortured himself over of the life you might have had without him. If any of it were true, you never would have known what became of him. You’d never have to meet the Winter Soldier or witness the hand that doled out such violence over the decades. You’d never know the monster he’d become.

You’d have lived a peaceful, happy life free of his demons and the blood he spilt. He’d never have to confront the possibility you might take one look at him and cower in fear of what he’d done, of the man he turned into – that you might not want him anymore.

“We don’t know the timeline of when she was captured,” Steve continued, his voice wary now, tentative, “but we know she was found wearing a field nurse uniform.”

Bucky blinked; the air pulled from his lungs.

No, that couldn’t be right. Bucky had committed all of your letters to memory. You would have told him if you were studying to be a field nurse, if you’d intended on shipping yourself out to the front. It would have ruined him – the thought of you amongst the violence of the trenches like he was. He could suffer his own burdens tenfold, but he could not tolerate the thought of you in such danger. It would have drowned him. He would have remembered that agony.

“I’m as surprised as you,” Steve said in what sounded like a sliver of an apology on his tone, “but Stark’s certain. It’s authentic.”

Bucky swallowed. It tasted bitter. Blood, maybe. Or bile.

“Sam will call for us when she’s ready to talk,” Steve said upon noticing the slight discoloration in Bucky’s skin.

Bucky didn’t say anything else but he managed a short nod. Then, he was left on his own; he and the hoard of demons digging their vicious claws into his spine, dragging him back to the darkest corners of his mind.

***

It was three days before Sam called for him.

It wasn’t fast enough. It was too soon.

Bucky almost looked over his shoulder for the shreds of his heart on the tile floor as he made his way to the med bay. His right hand was sore and bruised from the long nights in the gym – breaking and reopening old wounds on his knuckles against the leathered bag. The thinly healed skin nearly fractured as he drew his hand to a fist to stop the shaking.

He did his best to keep himself centered on the facts – that you’d enlisted yourself as a field nurse mere hours after learning of Bucky’s presumed death in the alps, that Hydra had taken you and your squadron captive one month before the end of the war, that you’d been declared MIA shortly after and, like him, history believed you dead.

You took the news of waking to the future in stride – better than Steve had apparently. It didn’t surprise Bucky one bit given your affinity for technology and Howard Stark’s Expos you had eagerly joined him to every year. You were always stronger than anyone gave you credit for. Stronger than him, certainly.

Sam told him you were as helpful to the SHIELD analysts as you could be; giving full reports on everything you could recall before you were put under the ice, from the shift of the Hydra guards to the small talk you’d once overhead from your cell. It was information that would have decimated Hydra’s forces had an Allied warship rescued you before the ship met its home at the bottom of the Atlantic. It did little use to them now than to help to locate old bunkers and destroy the remnants left behind, but it was one less Hydra base on the map and Bucky’s chest was a little lighter knowing only rubble remained in its place.

Steve was the first of them to visit you.

You’d been prepared for it, told by Sam a full two days after you regained consciousness. He waited until your vitals were strong, until you’d grown as accustomed as you could to the news of the twenty-first century before he’d told you of Steve’s survival. It was meant to be a test; to see how you reacted to Steve before they dared to bring up Bucky.

It wasn’t the same, Bucky had tried to argue. Not for the nature of your relationships, but because of the separate lives they led in the years since you last saw them.

Steve had gone down as a hero in the forties and that hadn’t changed when he woke from the ice. He was an idolized symbol of selfless courage. He was Captain-fucking-America.

But Bucky? Bucky had spent those years mutilated into a weapon. Tortured. Beaten into submission. His mind warped from his body and weapons placed in his hands. He’d been made into a killer, a monster. He wasn’t whole – not mentally, not physically. He bared little resemblance to the version of the man you’d once written letters to until tears spilled to the fragile paper – letters that had kept him from crumbling under the pressure of war and the weight of responsibility on his young shoulders. He wasn’t the man you once knew.

Steve had grown more cynical over the years and now bore a wall around his chest after the loss of Agent Carter, but he was still the same man who crossed enemy lines in search of his best friend and brought an entire squadron back with him. He was still the hero who sacrificed himself to the ocean to save New York. He still looked like that man you remembered.

Bucky flexed his left hand, examining the sharp reflection of impervious metal. This hand held no memory of you the way his right once had. It had not held your weeping frame the night his number was called on the radio and his life was committed to an army he’d never volunteered for. It had not sweetly brushed the hair from your eyes or warmed your frozen fingers on cold winter nights. It had not touched you with adoration and awe until you came apart under bated breath.

No, this hand was violence incarnate. It was born of vengeance and blood. It had no place near the woman he loved. He’d sever it from his body if he could, if only it would ease the fear you might hold in your eyes when you finally saw him again.

He cut his hair, foolishly hoping it would be less jarring for you to see him this way. He’d done away with the shoulder length locks shortly after moving into the compound, following Sam’s ridiculous advice that a physical separation from the Winter Soldier might do him some good. He never told Sam that he flinched a little less, hated his reflection a little less, each time he looked in the mirror after the scissors had done their work. Perhaps he should have.

He'd trimmed the edges himself in a dimly lit bathroom the evening he learned of your survival. It was a little shorter than he kept it in recent months, but it reminded him of the cut he had the day he was shipped overseas. He hoped it might be familiar to you, that you might look at him and see the man who had once held the tips of your fingers through the open window of an Allied war ship until it pulled from the dock and you disappeared from view.

Sam had told you the basics of what happened to him all these years. Bucky had insisted upon it, though he did not offer an explanation why. He did not tell Sam that he thought you might change your mind upon learning the truth of his past, that you might fear the monster he’d become. He didn’t know if he’d survive the rejection if he saw it on your face.

Sam had only furrowed his brow at Bucky’s request, as if he’d read straight through his sharp inflections and taunt expression, but he’d agreed to share Bucky’s past with you.

You’d still requested to see him.

Bucky wasn’t sure what to make of that. Perhaps you wanted to confirm what you’d been told with your own eyes or you wished to grant him the closure to your relationship neither of you had gotten before you walked out of his life completely. Either way, Bucky caught himself looking for pieces of his shattered heart down the long hall to the med bay.

By the time he reached the door to your room, he was certain he was going to be sick. He’d prepared himself the best he could for the rejection he was certain to find upon your features; fear or disgust or pity – he wasn’t sure which would hurt the most. He steeled himself against the wall, trying to find his courage when he heard your voice for the first time in seventy years.

He thought he’d remembered the gentle inflections in your tone, the smile and the levity in your voice. He thought he’d held a clear enough picture to not be brought to his knees by little more than the soft laughter you shared with Sam Wilson as he told you stories of his early days as Captain America’s wingman. He thought he’d be strong enough for this.

He was wrong.

“Buck?” Steve’s voice nearly startled him out of his skin. Steve glanced into the room where you were sitting cross legged on the bed with Sam sitting in the folding chair to your left, before he turned back to his friend. “You ready, pal?”

Bucky swallowed, though it did little to coat his dried throat. He shook his head.

Steve gave a short nod of understanding and took one step into the room. Your laughter hushed behind muffled hands as Sam shushed you playfully as if the teacher had just strolled into the detention room.

“Sam, a word?” Steve requested, gesturing to the hallway. Even from his position behind the wall, Bucky could still glimpse the tight expression on Steve’s face through the doorway. Sam must have picked up on who was waiting on the other side of the door and quickly excused himself.

Sam didn’t scowl at Bucky like he’d anticipated as he stepped into the hall. Instead, all he offered in his expression was a soft encouragement. Lips curved subtle into a smile, a short tap of his hand on Bucky’s shoulder. Sam and Steve disappeared down the end of the hall without another word.

Bucky exhaled a tense breath and did not allow himself the time to reconsider before he stepped into the doorway. He did not dare to look up when he heard the sharp intake of your breath or the rustling of the sheets as you scrambled quickly to your feet. He only caught a glimpse of the navy-blue sweatpants provided by SHIELD and your bare feet on the cold tile as he stepped closer. It was enough to bottom his stomach.

You shifted your weight. Nervously, he realized.

“I—” Bucky started, though his voice came out broken and raspy. He swallowed, trying to find his voice again. “I know this is a shock and I—I don’t want to make this harder for you. I’ll answer any questions you have. I’ll tell you whatever you want to know and then I’ll— I'll leave you be. You won’t have to see me again.”

He flexed his left hand in the pocket of his hoodie, hiding the metal fist from your view. He was certain you might be able to see through the fabric completely and uncover the monster underneath. But you did not cower in fear of him. You did not speak at all. Bucky couldn’t will his gaze away from the floor.

“I know Sam told you what happened to me,” Bucky continued, if only to break the agonizing silence. “You know about Hydra and... and the Winter Soldier. You know what I did for them. What I was. What they... turned me into.”

It was a question, he realized as the words left his lips. He couldn’t be certain whether Sam had held up to his promise because you had yet to move from your position – holding firm, steady, in his presence. He expected you to flinch when he spoke, to wince as he took a step in your direction. But you did not move. You barely took in a breath.

“So much has changed,” Bucky whispered, his voice breaking. “I’m not... I’m not the man you remember. The things Hydra did to me... The things I’ve done...”

“It's really true?” your voice fluttered through Bucky’s senses enough to steal the words from his tongue. Light and beautiful and still, etched in an agonizing weight he couldn’t understand. “Sam had said but... I couldn’t believe it. I was afraid to.”

Bucky winced; his gaze still centered on the floor. Of course, you'd be afraid of him. Of course, you’d be frightened of the thing he’d become. He tried to swallow the tang of copper in his mouth and found he could hardly even will himself to breathe. He took a hesitant step back.

But your breath hitched as he put space between you, as if you’d been burned, and you reached a hand to him. It landed so gently against his left forearm that he almost hadn’t noticed it. His gaze sharply snapped to your hand as your finger squeezed against solid metal shielded only by the fabric of his sweatshirt. Your thumb brushed over the ridges on the cloth.

“I was afraid to believe you’d really survived,” you explained gently, the thick ache of tears in your tone. “I was afraid to hope. To allow that for myself.”

You drew back a shaken breath and Bucky dared to let himself peer at the very edges of his vision, only enough to see the relief of a smile on your lips. You were as beautiful as he remembered; your eyes always too impossibly kind for what he deserved. You looked at him with such grace, such love, he didn’t know what to make of it. How to process it. He wondered how you could even stomach looking at him.

“Sweetheart,” you eased and his knees nearly buckled. Your hand slid up his arm, tender touches against the machine he despised until your chilled palm rested on the side of his face. Always cold, he remembered. He'd spent so many evenings trying to warm your frozen hands between his own, taking any excuse you’d give him to hold you a little while longer.

“Sweetheart, look at me,” you asked again.

Bucky could never find it in him to deny you, not even when he knew it would crush him.

Slowly, he lifted his eyes, allowing himself to take in the details of the freshly laundered SHIELD sweatshirt and the slight discoloration in patches of your skin he recognized as burns from the ice in cyro. He let himself really look at you for the first time since he left you behind on that dock and a sob crept up to smother him before he could shove it down.

Your arms were around him in an instant, pulling him tight to your chest as you eased him to sit with you on the edge of the bed. He felt the gentle trace of your palm over his spine, in his hair, along his cheek, and it shattered every piece of him. Broke him and remade his soul again under your touch as his body trembled in your arms.

Only once he was able to catch his breath again, did you say, “I’m so proud of you.”

Bucky looked at you, stunned, and it earned him a soft smile in return.

“You survived more than anyone has ever endured – awful, terrible things,” you continued, brushing your knuckles gingerly along the side of his jaw. “You survived and you kept your promise. Seventy years later. You came home to me.”

His lips parted, features softening in disbelief. He licked at his lips, heart racing. He shook his head. “But I— The things I’ve done—”

“I know. I know and I’m still here.” You took his left hand into yours, pushing up the sleeve of his sweatshirt and revealing the metal beneath. You did not wince at you touched the cold vibranium, did not contort your features in disgust or fear. Instead, what crossed your face was an expression of gratitude.

“I slept through those decades while Hydra controlled you and hurt you,” you said, your voice thick with regret, “but you’re safe now. You’re here, among friends. Among family, from what Sam tells me.” You smiled at him then, something bright and wonderful enough to loosen the chains in his chest. “And I... I know time had passed differently for us. I know that you have lived decades while I slept. For me, the news of your death came mere months ago and I—I still love you, Bucky. I will always love you. In whatever form you come to me in. With whatever past. I will take you. I will always take you. But I would understand if you—”

Bucky hadn’t realized his own courage until his lips were on yours. Too sudden, perhaps. Maybe too soon. But after an agonizing second of shock, he felt your smile press into his cheeks as you relaxed against him, as you kissed him back for the first time since he was called to the front lines.

He wasn’t good with words. Not these days. So he hoped he might be able to convey everything he could not say with this kiss.

That he could not fathom a world where he could willingly say goodbye to you again. That he loved you even on the days he did not remember your face or your name. That he would learn to forgive himself with the kindness and compassion you so easily granted him. That he would give his soul to whatever god was responsible for bringing you back into his life again, even if it was Tony Stark.

You were breathless when you pulled away, though Bucky could have happily drowned to kiss you just a moment longer. Your lips were swollen, your eyes glossy. He could have stayed in that moment forever if time would let him, would preserve that memory under glass and steel if he could. You laughed then, as you always had after he’d left you flustered, and for a moment, Bucky remembered what it felt like to be the man you loved. Full. Whole. Happy.

“I never stopped loving you,” he exhaled, his voice stronger than it had been in days.

“But it’s been so long,” you asked, whether it was in challenge or awe of his confession, he didn’t know.

But Bucky merely shrugged and traced the edges of your swollen lips with his thumb. “I promised you a lifetime once. I’ll give you this one too if you’ll let me.”

It seemed as though he’d been the one to render you without words this time as your only response was to kiss him again – softer, gentler than before, tender and chaste. Your fingertips lingered on his cheek as you pulled away, looking at him no different than you had all these years ago – like you saw every ounce of good in his bones and loved him desperate enough to forgive the rest, even when it could not grant it to himself.

He was different now. He knew he was. And he supposed you were, too.

But the love still remained. Unconditional. Unwavering.

In this lifetime, the one before, and whatever came next.

Thank you so much for reading! ❤️ If you enjoyed this fic, please consider supporting me at my ko-fi account ✨

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes x female reader

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tinycozycomfort · 7 months

Text

where you sleep

pairing: jackson era!joel miller x f!reader

day three of @pascalisbaby and i's joeltober: hand kink -> read her day three here

summary: When you swing your neck to face him, he’s already cocked his chin over the hill of his left shoulder to await your gaze—beaming. He knew you’d been watching since you approached the room. Worse, he wanted you to see.

warnings/tags: pwp!, hand kink, oral sex (m recieving), dom/sub dynamics, masturbation (m), exhibitionism, misuse of underwear/underwear play, pet names (honey, sweetheart, etc), creepy!joel (/dark!joel?)

word count: 1.7k

rating: explicit! 18+ only, mdni

a/n: gotta give an extra kiss to @pascalisbaby for not only saving this from the delete button more than once but for always being the best person alive!!!

main masterlist

You hear him, first—the end of a damp squelch, the sharp intake that breaks between coupling breaths, on a loop—from your place at the front door. It’s only clear enough to be interpreted as motion, disjointed pieces of noise that make you think he might be struggling, or hurt—so you follow.

Padding lightly down the hallway in the dim afternoon, a twinge of anxiety leans lamely against your heart with all its dead weight; guilty already, even with no cause. Your chest thrums as it tries to hold up, picturing all of the ways he could have ended up wounded while trying to fix your shower, but when you reach the bathroom, it’s empty. No blood, no horrific scene, just a pile of loose tools and a smattering of fine plaster from where he’d dug around in the wall—yet the sounds persist somewhere further.

You continue down, not quiet by any means, a little disturbed by his lack of interest in your arrival. He’s in your room, you deduce—the only occupiable space left in the home—coming into view now with the aid of long, heavy steps. Announcing yourself, just in case.

The door is split open enough to see a long strip of empty space—the corner of your unmade bed, the swirling edge of your dresser, a sliver of mirror posed straighter than usual.

As you sidle up to the frame, the sounds pitch up—strained hissing and sloppy glide of skin reaching a peak—and so you risk a deeper lean to see what it is he’s gotten himself into; what it is that isn’t worth hiding.

A weak wash of daylight squeezes through the kinks in the blinds, allowing you only the fuzzy edges of what he’s doing.

Joel sits on the far side of the bed, body angled so that you can see just a little more than profile, hunched roundly over his lap. He’s almost fully dressed—button-up intact right up to the neck, crinkled tops of his jeans still upright on his legs—everywhere except his center.

He has one hand braced on his stomach, wide and solid and threaded with thick cords of vein, the fabric of his modesty folded up into his thumb. The waistline of his pants is zipped and peeled open at the thigh, the buckle of his belt jolting with faint clinks on every off-beat. A crude frame for the action resting within it.

His cock is slick in his right hand, a band of bright wet flashing between his fingers as he makes rough passes along it, stuttering minutely when he moves down to the base. He fucks the column fervently, the hard muscle of his clutched fist sending a push of arousal between the tops of your thighs.

He touches himself as roughly as he seems able to tolerate—the sinew between his first set of knuckles dipped harshly, peaks white from strain, the tips of the hand on his stomach turning in against his own flesh enough to ripple.

Something pink, unnaturally so, peaks between his fingers every so often, calling you away from your observation of his abdomen. He’s particularly enamored with whatever it is—panting every time it swirls over the head, dulling the sheen of his pull.

Fabric, you realize, absorbing the slip on his skin. You squint, assessing the texture of the material as it darkens with each stroke. Lace fabric; scallop-edged lace fabric that looks starkly familiar to what had been discarded in a shallow grave on top of your too-full hamper the night before.

He shoves into the cloth, webbing it around the points of his fingers like a pocket, canting his hips off the bed to slot into it and he huffs in frustration when he manages to miss a few times, stunted.

You glance up to see he’s maneuvering himself blindly; despite his intricate goal he looks straight ahead, eyes still open from what you can make out, concentration elsewhere as he fumbles against the make-shift cunt.

You track his focus, only half-way across the room when you remember just how much the door had been left open, the crease of the frame very visible in the newly-positioned mirror at your bedside—the intention of it.

The realization rushes between your ribs like ice-water, little knocks of frozen pellets as they swim between the bones on the way down. The force is so fast you feel like you’re going to keel over—not assisted by the way your knees already feel tight from the strain of keeping yourself motionless.

You hit the end of the line, his expression wild where he meets you in the reflection, pleased.

“You just gonna watch, sweetheart? That’s all?”

When you swing your neck to face him, he’s already cocked his chin over the hill of his left shoulder to await your gaze—beaming. He knew you’d been watching since you approached the room. Worse, he wanted you to see.

“Joel—Fuck, I’m… I didn’t mean to-”

He uses his unoccupied hand to help him rise to his feet, his right not ceasing to work himself as he rounds the edge of the mattress. You cower, still mostly inaccessible behind the wood, so he reacts accordingly—slows, tames his grin, knits the inner corners of his brow to look disarming.

“Hey, it’s okay. It’s okay. You caught me in a bit of a bind here, honey,” he pumps lazily, head bowing to direct your attention as if you would need the assistance, “No big deal. Wouldn’t hurt if you offered to help—might as well work for the show.”

You stare at him, wide-eyed, afraid to pierce the illusion, the dream in front of you a few words from melting away, and he pouts something disappointed.

“Don’t need to invite you into your own room, do I?”

“Joel,” you try again, weak.

“Heard you the first time—didn’t mean to. We’re past that. I forgive you. Now c’mon, come take a closer look—like I know you want to.”

Hesitantly, you hook an ankle around the edge of the door, willing yourself forward. Joel nods encouragingly before cutting the distance with his own wide steps.

He uses his clean hand to cup the swell of your cheek, thumb twisting to dig into the fullest part, the pads against your neck pressing down like a suggestion, and you fold without question, tucking a knee beneath you to guide yourself to the floor.

Joel releases you, draping the curve of his shirt up into his palm again to reveal what had been only momentarily concealed beneath it. Even so, your eyes stay fixed on the spread of his fingers against his belly, right past the place where his cock hangs between his legs.

“Didn’t seem to have a problem looking when you thought I didn't know. Don't be shy.” His words are encouraging but his tone is laced with annoyance, frustrated maybe that you aren’t responding with the enthusiasm he wants.

He resumes playing with himself, the stretch of lace in his clutch not enough to claim your favor—the way his nails pierce his stomach far more intriguing.

He seems to understand, trailing his palm up to his chest, still holding the hem, a smile curling on his lips when you follow the movement.

“Oh, that’s what you like?”

He releases his length, letting the lace slot between the crease of his thumb like a bracelet. “You want me to touch you with these, sweetheart?” He waves the wet hand lewdly before offering it to you, “Want me to put them in your mouth?”

You nod, and he lets the rough tips of his pointer and middle tap on the center of your bottom lip, watching shamelessly as you open up for him on instinct.

“Look at that. I think we can figure out something here that works out for both of us, hm?”

He doesn’t bother letting you answer, lining the row of his longer fingers outward against your lower lip, his thumb braced against the upper. You stick your tongue out, curling it around his first finger to try and coax him inside but he has another idea. He spreads his legs, settling his weight before leaning to feed the tip of his cock through the channel he’s created with his hand, breaching the open space of your mouth.

You take him enthusiastically and he makes a choked sound, the plane of his chest pushing out hard between firm breaths, a stripe of pink crawling up his neck and across his face. He’s ruffled, composure broken, his own mouth agape in veiled mockery.

“There you go. So pretty. You wouldn’t say no if I asked you to come down your throat, would you?”

You do your best to shake your head, working him deeper, the row of your bottom teeth secure under the line of his pointer.

He shudders, the nail of his thumb pushing you open wider as he slides in as far as he can manage at this angle, with so much already occupying the inside of your face.

“That’s right, honey. Good girl for me, aren’t you? Walked right into my little gift, eager. Let’s reward you, hm?”

You hum in response, lost to anything other than the brush of his hand against your chin when he thrusts too quickly, the drag of the inside of his knuckles against your tongue.

“Fuck. You like it, too. Should’ve come by sooner.”

Pressure builds in the pit of your stomach, hot and rolling as where it falls over into the cradle of your core. You rub your legs together in an attempt to relieve it and he whines, bucking up quicker into the hollow of your cheeks, the fabric of your forgotten underwear slipping in with the rest of his mess on a jostled punch.

Joel starts to unwind, heaving in hard gulps and elbow craning out in a jagged, rhythmic sway. He unhinges his jaw like he wants to say more but you bend, taking more of him than you should be able to, the soft wedge of his head prodding your throat and he grunts, rounding out his spine as he comes as far down as he promised to.

You puff up your cheeks around him, an almost-smile, swallowing as much as you can before pulling off of him with a gentle pop, your own palm sliding up to take hold of his forearm. He lets you, deflated from his orgasm, and you run your tongue over what you couldn’t catch on his skin.

“Should’ve known,” he chuckles, peering down at you between soaked lashes before assisting, sliding two fingers into your parted lips, “Let’s find out what else you like.”

#joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x you #pedro pascal characters #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #joel miller/reader #kinktober 2023 #kinktober #dark!joel x reader

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dixons-sunshine · 7 days

Note

hi I just wanted to start with I really love your writing its just so good. I do have a request and if your not interested its okay it is angst but with a possible happy ending.

so its a daryl x reader where before the apocalypse r and daryl were together and they ended things right before everything went to shit and then when the group gets to Alexandria r is there and she has kid/s (maybe twins?? boy and girl??) so turns out r found out she was pregnant right when everything started happening so daryl didn't know and idk he like puts two and two together yk? and if you're okay with it can she be hispanic/ latin (maybe that can be one of the reasons they broke up bc yk merl is an ass to POC)

anyways sorry if that was a lot or didn't make sense

anyways have a good day/night much love <3

Two Plus Two Makes Four | Daryl Dixon x Hispanic!Fem!Reader

Summary: A week before the apocalypse, Daryl was forced to break up with you by Merle, leaving you heartbroken, but not alone—soon after he left, you found out you were pregnant. Now, two years later, you come face to face again with the man that broke your heart, and he finds out something shocking.

Genre: Angst, some fluff towards the end.

Era: Alexandria, pre Saviour arc.

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of pregnancy and childbirth.

Word count: 1.3k

A/n: Sorry this took so long to finish. I hope this is good enough to make up for the wait! Please note that I used Google translate for this, so the translations may be incorrect or awkward! Feel free to correct me if you spot any mistakes! (Translations will be at the bottom.)

—

“Kids?! Ya were pregnant and ya didn't fuckin' tell me?!” Daryl bellowed angrily, grabbing your arm to halt you from walking away from him.

You ripped your hand from his grip. “¡No me toques!” You spun around, furiously pointing a finger in your ex boyfriend's direction. “Don't you even dare put this on me, Dixon! You left. You walked out because you cared more about your brother's opinion than you did me! I'm sorry I wasn't gonna baby trap a man who didn't wanna be with me!”

“I deserved to know! I missed two years of their lives 'cause ya didn't tell me! I could of been there fer 'em, for ya, but ya chose to keep it from me!” Daryl exclaimed angrily, following you as you walked into your kitchen. “How could ya keep tha' from me?!”

“You chose to run to your brother the first chance you got! Four years down the drain in an instant for that racist asshole. I didn't owe you anything after that, maldito idiota!”

Daryl stopped in his tracks, instantly regretting starting up this particular argument. You spoke nothing but the truth. You didn't owe him anything. After all, it was him who walked out on you. He chose to let Merle's judgement get to him and influence his relationship. Hell, if it weren't for Merle, he would have proposed to you. He already had a ring picked out and everything back then, but he let Merle ruin everything. It was his own stupidity that cost him two years of his children's lives.

“Mama?”

At the sound of a small, timid voice coming from behind you, both you and Daryl turned and came face to face with your kids, your two year old twins. Your son, Luka, was nervously looking up at you and Daryl while your daughter, Camilla, was standing behind him, holding his hand.

Daryl was struck by the similarities both children shared with him. They both had his eyes, and his hair colour. They were spitting images of him. There was no doubt in his mind that these two children were his. He wasn't blind. He could see they were.

“Everything's fine, amores. I'm just having a conversation with Mr Dixon.”

Camilla stepped forward, her eyes lighting up with wonder. She looked up at Daryl, a smile spreading across her chubby cheeks. “Dixon?” she asked, pointing up at him. “Papa?”

Daryl was surprised. He looked up at you in confusion, silently asking for an explanation. You sent him a strained smile, forcing a relaxed look in front of your children.

“I always talk about you. They deserve to know who their father is. Well, who he was before he left me,” you explained, looking back down at Camilla and Luka.

“Papa?” Luka asked as he stepped forward, his blue eyes that reflected Daryl's sparkling with wonder. “Our papa?”

Daryl looked at you for permission, not wanting to overstep any boundaries. You nodded, silently giving him permission. He was their dad, after all, and he had just as much right to have a relationship with them as you, even if he did leave you. However, that was between him and you, and your children didn't deserve to be denied a relationship with their dad because of it.

The archer bent down, looking between Luka and Camilla as they stared at him in wonder. “Yeah, m'yer papa. M'sorry I wasn't here before, but m'here now. I ain't goin' nowhere.”

Daryl wasn't sure how much of his speech they understood, if they understood anything at all, but it didn't matter. The speech was mainly meant for you. It was to let you know that he wanted to be a part of their lives, and there was just about nothing that could stop him from that.

Camilla and Luka, as if having some sort of twin power, both simultaneously rushed forward and into his arms. Daryl wasted no time in hugging them back, somehow managing to pick them both up and rest them comfortably in his arms. It was relatively late, nearly eight at night and well past their bed times, so they rested their heads on his shoulders, making Daryl's heart swell with fondness. They didn't even know him, only having heard of him through the stories you told them, but they already trusted him. And even though he just found out he had kids, he would kill for them.

“We need to talk, sunshine. This ain't somethin' we can just sweep under the rug,” he told you, allowing you to take Luka from his arms to lighten the load. He adjusted his hold on Camilla, letting out a fond chuckle when he heard her yawn and nuzzle her face deeper into his shoulder.

You let out a sigh and nodded. “I know. But let's get these dormilones to bed first.”

Approximately half an hour later, the twins were tucked into bed and asleep. You and Daryl were back in the kitchen, both having a glass of wine in your hands—liquid courage for the conversation you were about to have.

“M'sorry fer leavin' ya,” Daryl broke the silence first, nervously sloshing the liquid around in his glass. “I dun' even know why I did. Merle's opinions should've never influenced our relationship. I loved ya. I still do. I regret leavin' ya more than anythin' else in my life.”

You inhaled deeply, willing the tears away. For two years you had wanted an explanation, and now you were finally getting one. However, hearing him admit that he still loved you, that you weren't stupid for still loving the man who broke your heart, was both relieving and hurtful.

“You hurt me, Daryl,” you whispered, feeling a lump form in your throat. “I get that Merle was your brother, but you should've never let him influence you like that. I had to go through everything alone. Do you know how hard it was being pregnant and fighting for my life against the dead out there? Do you know how terrified I was? I was lucky enough to find Alexandria a couple of days before I gave birth. If I didn't, I would've given birth out there with the walkers. I probably would've died. Camilla and Luka too.”

Daryl felt the guilt gnawing at his insides. He really hated himself at that moment. “M'sorry, sweetheart. I really fuckin' am. I promise I won't leave again. I dun' expect you to give me a second chance. God knows I dun' deserve it, but I promise I'll be here fer ya and the lil ones. I ain't ever gon' let ya down again, I promise.”

You gave him a small smile, reaching over to take his hand in yours. You rubbed your thumb over his knuckles, something you always did whenever the two of you had a serious talk. “Give me some time, Daryl. I still love you, but I need some time to adjust to the idea of 'us' again. It's been just me and the twins for two years. As far as I knew before today, I thought I wouldn't see you ever again. Just focus on the kids for now, okay? They deserve to know their daddy.”

Daryl's lips twitched up into a smile, and he nodded. “I'll wait as long as ya need me to. I ain't ever gon' let anyone influence us ever again, I can assure ya of tha'. And I ain't ever gon' leave ya to raise 'em alone, never.”

➳༻❀✿❀༺➳

¡No me toques!: Don't touch me!

Translations (May be incorrect! Please feel free to correct me if they are!):

maldito idiota!: fucking idiot!

amores: loves.

dormilones: sleepyheads.

192 notes · View notes

reiderwriter · 8 months

Note

Hi :) I've never requested before and am a little embarrassed to be here. But I'm also in my Spencer Reid Brainrot era and am a fan of your writing! I was thinking something with a virgin female reader who is genophobic (specifically fear of vaginal penetration, in her case) and Spencer helps her work through her fear and try something new? She doesnt need to have trauma, just the phobia. Either BAU or non BAU reader is fine, just as long as they aren't initially dating and there is a slow build up to the intimacy. Also, could it be race-blind? (e.g "I could see she was embarrassed" instead of "her cheeks turned pink") Fluff, smut, and mutual pining. Ack, please it would make my MONTH!!

-❤️‍🩹

A/N: I really hope I did this one justice!! It was fun to research and write and ahhh the slow burn (which was definitely a lot faster than it should have been if I had more time 🫣 sorry). I hope you like it!

W/C: 5k

Warnings: Genophobia (fear of sexual intimacy), panic attack, heavy petting, oral (F receiving), virgin reader, inexperienced Spencer, two idiots in love again, vaginal sex, fingering, contraception actually used! Mainly soft and sweet sex 😊

Find my masterlist here! Get ready for kinktober with me here!

It was your worst nightmare come true.

You’d had a crush on Spencer for the last three years, working with him in the BAU since Elle had left. You’d joined the team alongside Emily and immediately become enamored with the boy genius, and how could you not? He was smart, and handsome, and most importantly, he respected boundaries.

But here he was in front of you, probably saying the words that you most wanted to hear from him, but he was so close, your heart was beating uncomfortably in your chest, your breath short and your eyes hazy and unfocused for all the wrong reasons.

“Just… If you don’t feel the same, I understand and I’ll never mention it again, but if there’s any chance that you.. That you love me the same way I love you, please tell me.” He had you boxed in against the wall, not touching you exactly, but so close you could feel his breath on your neck, could see the desperation in his eyes as he poured his heart out to you.

The man of your dreams was confessing his love to you, and you were on the verge of a panic attack at his attention.

“Spencer, I have to go,” you gasped out, grasping your chest as you begged your lungs to start working again, as you begged your mouth to stay and explain. But the tears were burning in the corners of your eyes and you had to run from the intimacy of the moment. “I have to... I’m sorry, Spencer, I can’t…” You didn’t get any other words out before you bolted out the door, desperate to find a bathroom stall to cry in. You weren’t sure if the tears were from the very real fear you’d just confronted or the realization that you’d probably just ruined your chances with Spencer Reid.

–X–

A week later, and the awkward tension between the two of you hadn’t dissipated. You wanted to explain yourself, of course, you did, but with the hurt look on Spencer’s face shooting through you every time you were at the other end of his gaze, combined with the absolute fear of being known and judged, you had guiltily kept your mouth shut.

The rest of the team had noticed, of course. The two of you were sending pining looks after one another whenever the other had their back turned, even when preoccupied with a prolific highway murderer, the team would be blind not to see it. Unfortunately for you, the members of the BAU weren’t the ones to let the tension go unconfronted, so you found yourself in increasingly solitary situations, alone but for the company of Spencer himself.

You’d been assigned to work the geographical profile with Spencer, despite usually working alongside Hotch, more used to comforting and interviewing families than analyzing charts and maps. The opportunity to explain had been handed to you on a silver platter, and you had to take it.

“Spencer, can we talk?” You blurted the words out after an unbearably long silence, having watched the man read case file after case file while you distractedly bumbled along beside him.

He paused and gave a small nod, bringing his head up, but not quite meeting your gaze.

“When you… When you said those things last week, did you mean them?”

“I don’t say things I don’t mean, Y/N.” The words were tense, but his voice was soft, his eyes holding a resigned look.

“I’m sorry... I’m sorry, shit, everything I say is going to sound like an excuse but I’m so sorry…” you rambled, trying to work up the courage to say what you actually wanted to.

“You don’t have to apologize for not feeling the same way I do. It’s okay, I know I’m not the easiest person to love and-”

“You are. You are, Spencer, don’t even think that you are the problem here, because you are not.” You gasped for breath as you pushed the words out unexpectedly, surprising even yourself with the conviction of your tone.

“I love you, Spencer, I do, I just…” You blinked back the tears again as your voice suddenly became a whisper.

“You know when we talked about our… our fears a few weeks back? And I said that I didn’t have anything specific that came to mind?” He listened attentively as you stuttered out the words.

“I lied. When… people get close to me, and when they get close to me in a way that specifically suggests that… suggests that they like me the way you like me, my chest gets tight, and I can’t breathe. Spencer, I’m… I’m scared of sex.”

You let the confession hang in the air between you, almost afraid to look up and see the sympathetic look in Spencer’s eyes. But you had to eventually, and you were surprised.

The man wasn’t even looking at you, and his expression couldn’t even be described as concerned, let alone empathetic.

“Spencer? Did you hear what I said?” He looked up and smiled at you, keeping his distance still, but opening up to you, facing you with open body language, putting all his attention on you without moving even an inch closer.

“Genophobia. Y/N, you’re describing Genophobia. It’s the fear of physical intimacy that often stems from a fear of pain during sexual intimacy or from physical symptoms, such as Vaginosis. Y/N, you don’t hate me.” His grin widened, and you let out a little laugh at the hopeful look on his face as he breathed out that last statement.

“No, no Spencer, I couldn’t hate you.”

“Good, because I thought I’d taken it too far… Nevermind. Y/N, is… is this something you want to work through?” His tone was cautious, and you were touched by the seriousness he was approaching with. Your previous boyfriends had mocked you when you explained why you couldn’t have sex with them, few as they may have been. You’d never been treated with such gentleness.

“Yes. I really want to work through it, but… Spencer, it might take a long time. Is that okay?” He considered your question for a minute, then replied with his own.

“Y/N, can I lean in and kiss your cheek, please? I won’t touch you anywhere else, I just want…please?” You felt a warmth bubbling under your cheeks at the situation, your tongue growing thick in your mouth, not allowing you to respond. You opted for a small nod instead, watching his every move as he slowly moved in.

Placing his hands on the table, he lifted himself up from his chair, keeping them firmly planted there so you could see that he wasn’t going to initiate anything further. His lips finally hit your cheek, and your heart started beating in that familiar way that it usually did, but you forced yourself to hold still until he pulled away. He did so quickly.

“Y/N, I don’t care how long it takes you to be comfortable with me. I’m just happy you chose me.” He finished, then grabbed a file and exited the room, leaving you alone again to calm your heart and un-fog your brain.

–X–

The case closed a few days later, but you didn’t have another chance to talk to Spencer anymore about your relationship, being so caught up in serving justice to the families of the victims. But as Friday approached, your job was finished, an unsub handed over to the authorities ready for prosecution, and you could finally fly back home.

Which is how you found yourself, on the last evening of the work week, pacing outside of his apartment, freaking out about whether you should knock or not. You’d held your hand up to knock a few times, but ultimately let it fall to your side, cursing your cowardice. It was just a door. He was just a man. A man who really cared about you. A man who wanted you. That thought should have had you jumping into his arms at every given opportunity, instead, it was causing heart palpitations at the thought of knocking on a door.

In the end, you didn’t have to knock.

“Y/N, what are you doing here?” You heard his voice from behind you as you jumped in place, startled by the fact that he was actually there.

“Shit, Spencer, don’t do that, you scared me.” You grabbed your chest and took a deep breath. He stood still, waiting for your answer to his previous question.

“I was just… Can I come in?”

“Oh. Oh, yeah of course, here let me…” His words trailed off as he grabbed his keys from his pocket, fumbling them slightly as he struggled to get the key into the door.

“Take a seat wherever you… Can, I guess? Sorry, I was doing some reading before I left.” He smiled awkwardly as you walked into the space, and you giggled a little at the confession, seeing that there was really only one open space on the couch left for you to occupy without having to perch awkwardly on the arm of the chair.

You took the seat, moving a single book onto a stack on the sofa next to you, and watched the man as he took off his scarf and coat, storing them and then awkwardly turning back to the couch. He looked around for a place to sit, and, coming to the same conclusion as you did, chose to perch himself on the opposite arm of the sofa to you.

“Oh, Spencer, this is your house, you should sit comfortably.”

“No, you’re a guest, it’s fine. I want you to feel comfortable. What did you want to talk about?” He cleared his throat a little and then turned his eyes back to you, signaling that he was ready to listen attentively.

“Oh…. I was hoping…. Spencer, can you touch me?” You saw his face flush at your suggestion, and your eyes widened at your own foolish wording.

“Shit, not like that. Not that I don’t want you to touch me like that, but I think it’s too soon, and I’m still not comfortable with that. I was just hoping that you could, you know, hold me for a while, like a hug or something?” You rambled it all out, and you could hear yourself rambling but you couldn’t stop it. The words dropped from your mouth before you could even think about stopping them, and you felt the blood rush to your head as you cringed slightly at the situation.

“Okay.”

“Okay? You’re…. You’re okay with that?” You asked, looking hopefully up at Spencer.

“Do you want to sit together, or were you thinking something else?” You jumped up from your seat then, and glanced around the room as you considered his words.

“Oh, um, sitting together would be good I suppose?” He nodded and lifted himself up from the arm, moving closer to you.

“I’m going to sit here, you should probably just join me when you want to, okay?” He whispered the words with a tender smile on his face, and you felt some of the tension in your shoulders disappear. It was incredible that he could do that with a simple smile, that with one glance he could relax your whole body enough to let you push yourself to the limits of your fear.

You gained some confidence, and after letting him get settled in the seat you had just vacated, you moved to straddle his lap. You heard his sharp intake of breath as you wrapped your arms up around his neck, nervously wondering if what you were doing was right.

“Is this okay for you, Y/N?” He asked, stuttering through the words as he struggled to stay focused on you.

“It’s okay now. I want to push myself a little.” You ran your hands down his arms, which had so far lain politely still on the sofa beside him before you pulled them around yourself, letting the hug deepen. He was warm, and between the two of you, you weren’t sure whose heartbeat was louder. You could hear both of them, the room totally still except for your breaths and blinks.

“Y/N, can I… can I kiss you?”

“Yes.” You whispered the word in a voice so small, you were sure he hadn’t heard it, as his head crept towards you so slowly you were sure he wasn’t moving. Eventually, you felt his breath on your skin more, and then his lips were softly pressing against your own, the pressure gentle, not demanding any more than what you were currently giving him.

You melted into it, pushing yourself further into his warmth, your chests now pressed together as he languidly moved his lips against yours, claiming them again and again and again. You kept pushing and pushing into him, growing more sloppy in your kisses, grabbing onto the back of his sweater with two desperate fists, needing him close.

It wasn’t until your hips bucked involuntarily in his lap, unconsciously demanding friction that you began to panic once again, immediately pulling your lips and torso out of his reach.

“Shit, I’m sorry, I can’t… it’s… shit it’s not you, Spencer. God, I’m such an idiot.” You pulled your hands over your eyes, embarrassed at the thought of being seen by him right then, but still firmly seated in his lap.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” he said, pulling your hands away from your face with a gentle touch. “It’s okay, Y/N. We don’t have to do anything you aren’t comfortable with.” You nodded at his words and took a few more minutes to compose yourself.

“Can we…can we just cuddle for a while? Like this?” You asked, and his smile instantly became bright.

“I would love to. Let’s move some of these books though.” You shifted the books quickly and then fell back into his lap, his body now laying more vertically than before, stretching out into the larger space now available on the couch. You pushed your head into his chest, listening to his heartbeat, following it with your own, and letting it be the soundtrack to your descent into sleep.

–X–

Waking up in his arms was a life-changing experience. Sometime during your sleep, he had carried you to his bed, letting you sleep soundly as he made you more comfortable. He hadn’t taken any of your clothes off, of course, just removed your shoes and made sure you were warm enough in the skirt and blouse you had been wearing.

Your position had changed, too, and it was one of the first things you noticed as you blinked your eyes open, trying to rid them of sleep as you greeted the new day. Instead of being below you, he was behind you, pressed against you with a hand wrapped around your waist, pulling you into him like a child clutching a favored toy.

“Spence,” you whispered through a grin. “Spencer, wake up.” You turned your head around to him, but he moaned in his sleep, not wanting to leave his rest just yet. You giggled at his childlike petulance, trying to shift around to face him, but his grip was too tight. Pushing against him, you felt something, hard, pushing against your back. You shifted again, but it was still there, and it took you only a few more seconds to figure out what it was.

“Shit, Spencer, wake up,” your tone probably sounded more frantic than you felt, as it woke him quickly now, his body releasing yours enough to let him pull himself up, taking stock of the room as he looked around searching for what had panicked you.

“What is it, are you okay?” He returned his eyes to your face, but your gaze had slipped down his body, and through the much looser fitting sweatpants he’d thrown on at some point during the night, you could see the outline of his cock.

Curiously, the very sight didn’t have you bolting, as it had in situations in the past. You had frozen, of course, but you weren’t filled with as much dread as you had been only a few days prior with his confession.

“Fuck, Y/N, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to do that, it’s a biological reaction and… well it’s not purely biological, I do really have feelings for you, but I don’t want you to feel pressured, and… Let me go and get rid of this.” He moved to stand, but you grabbed his arm before he could completely pull away, his hand still resting on your waist.

“Wait… Could we continue from where we were last night?” You looked up at him, the embarrassment of your words sending a rush of adrenaline through your body, almost forcing you to take them back immediately.

“You… you want that?” For the second time in 24 hours, a whispered ‘yes’ was all it took to have him crash his lips into yours. The pressure was the same, but with his body hovering over yours, it felt even more intimate. His hands rubbed small reassuring circles on your hips, as you opened up to him, wanting to pull the full force of his weight down onto you.

His hand fell to your face as he encouraged you to open your mouth to his tongue, letting him explore it thoroughly as he lazily worked his mouth against your own. There was no fight for dominance here, just two people deeply exploring the feeling of one another, so wrapped up in the pleasure that no other thoughts could cross your minds. Not even that of fear.

He pulled away for a breath, and your lips trailed him, trying to capture him again and force him back to you, but he evaded you softly.

“Y/N, can I try something? I want to touch you…more. Is that okay?” You were so desperate for the feeling of his lips against yours again that you moaned out the yes before you even processed his words. His lips fell back against yours, but his weight shifted above you as his right hand trailed down your leg and then back up underneath your skirt.

The touch was so delicate that you shivered under the attention, but you felt your heart start beating faster and faster as he got closer to your center. He asked you once again, and you agreed before he finally touched you through the safety of your panties.

You moaned into the kiss as he cupped you, letting his thumb fall to your clit and beginning to explore you more. He swallowed each and every sound you made with his lips, committing every move you made, every reaction to memory. You grew more pliable under all his attentions, growing comfortable in reacting to his every movement, letting him control the pace and flow of your shared caresses. A heat was growing at the depth of your stomach, and you knew it was coming.

Your brain finally kicked back into gear as your orgasm washed over you, your eyes jolting open as he released your mouth, the breathless moan that erupted from you causing your entire body to tense up. You pushed him away, and clutched your chest, scrambling up into a seated position as he quickly noted the change in your body language, letting you out of his grip.

You struggled to get your breathing out of control, desperately searching for a way out, an excuse, or anything to say to make you feel better, but you came up blank.

“I’m sorry… I’m really…” You couldn’t force out any other words before you jumped out of his bed and bolted out of the apartment, having ruined everything again for the second time.

–X–

Another week ticked by before you knew it, and you still hadn’t talked to Spencer since he’d pushed you over the edge. The fact that he hadn’t tried to talk to you either had you convincing yourself that it meant whatever you shared was over now.

It was a nice feeling to share, but you couldn’t keep it up forever, just like you hadn’t been able to in any of your previous relationships. But there was something about Spencer that you didn’t want to give up on, so you didn’t.

You spent the week looking up advice on how to deal with your fear, booking appointments with Sex Therapists, and, to put it kindly, getting your body used to the idea of sexual interaction. You bought a small vibrator a day or two after you slept over at his house, nothing that would enter you, just something to play with to increase your confidence as you prepared yourself to apologize to him.

But despite all of your efforts, the tension was still running high in the team as they all noticed the sudden disconnect between you and your maybe-boyfriend.

So, with the newly discovered commitment to self-improvement, you found yourself at his door again on another Friday night, this time confidently knocking at the first attempt.

“Y/N, you’re here.” He said, mouth hanging open slightly as his unasked question hung in the air.

“I wanted to talk. About everything.”

“Sure, come in, come in.” He shut the door behind you, and you didn’t bother walking further than the entryway before you started again, not wanting to lose your conviction.

“Spencer, I want you to make love to me. I freaked out last time, and I ran away, and that was so shitty of me, but I think I’m ready now - I went to see this therapist and she gave me some advice, and I’ve been… I’ve been touching myself so I can get myself used to the idea of someone else touching me. And you’re the only person who I want to touch and to touch me, and you’re everything I’ve been thinking about, and I don’t want you to avoid me anymore or think this isn’t going anywhere.” You were almost breathless as you finished, having let your sentences blur into one, not bothering to pause in your exploration.

“Oh, thank god,” Spencer said, wrapping his hands around you suddenly, pulling you to him with a strength you didn’t know he had. “Well, not thank god that you want to have sex with me, thank god that I didn’t push it too far. I thought you hated me after last time, I thought I was trying to selfishly get you to open up too quickly, and I felt so bad about it.” He rambled just the same as you had, not letting go of you for all the world.

“You know, I’ve checked out like 50 books on sexual psychology from the University library this week, I was afraid the librarian was going to call the police on me for creepy behavior or something.” He laughed into you, letting his head drop to your shoulder as he held you comfortably.

“Spencer, that is so sweet.” You felt the sugar in your grin, knowing that this unabashed happiness wasn’t going away anytime soon, any negative feelings at being held this closely dissipating when faced with the love of his actions.

“I’m going to ask again, is that okay?” You nodded at his boyish grin, and he grinned down at you fondly.

“Y/N, may I kiss-” You didn’t let him finish, pushing yourself up on your toes to lock your lips with his before he could.

“Yes. Always yes.” You said releasing him, foreheads resting together.

“I know, but I like to ask.” His lips were on you again then, as he walked you back through his apartment, not stopping once to release your lips. Before you knew it, he was picking you up, and gently returning you to the bed you’d bolted from the week before.

He released you for a breath, and you pushed your top up and off, throwing it to the ground as he stared at you like you had personally each and every star in the sky.

“You’re amazing. I’m so proud of you.” He mumbled the words into your skin, before letting his hands once again fall under your skirt, beginning to massage your ass with a firm but still loving embrace. He pulled you against him again, your kisses becoming more and more needy as you felt him grow against you, with each stroke of his tongue forcing your hips to rub together deliciously.

“You know,” he spoke slowly, letting his lips fall down your neck and chest. “All of the literature I read suggested that foreplay was a good way to combat Genophobia. The more prepared you are for the actual sexual act, the less you worry about the ‘pain’ of it all.”

“What are you saying, Spencer?” You whispered, your heart beating fast, but not in an uncomfortable way anymore.

“I’m saying I want to make you feel good. Can I?” His lips had reached your skirt then, and he said the words as his head rested against your thigh, hands slowly pushing your legs wider and wider.

You nodded, and he dived in, at first licking through your underwear as you moaned and writhed underneath him. His hands worked the panties down your legs as he kissed your inner thighs, pushing your skirt up and over your hips so you could watch his every move.

“Fuck Spencer,” you ground into his face again as he returned his tongue to your now soaking hole, desperately chasing the pleasure of his attention. You’d had the time to explore this week, obviously, but it was nothing like this. Every kiss, every suck, every lick, spoke a thousand words to his devotion to you, his love being pressed into you from between your legs. You didn’t know it could be like this. You didn’t think it would be with anyone who wasn’t him.

“Spencer, I can feel it…. Spencer, don’t stop.” You worked a hand into his hair and shamelessly bucked into him now, you high hitting you just like you knew it would. If the first time had been a surprise, this time had been an inevitability. You felt him keep up his ministrations, letting you ride out the full wave of pleasure. When he finally pulled away, he looked into your eyes for confirmation that everything he’d done was okay. Moving a hand to wipe your arousal from his mouth, you stopped him mid-motion and pulled him back on top of you, wrapping your tongue around his own and delighting in the taste of his success.

“Let’s keep going,” you said softly into his ear, and he moaned his approval, before quickly divesting himself of his pants and grabbing a condom from his bedside table.

“Morgan got me a pack of these at Christmas, as a joke, y’know,” he laughed, kissing down your neck again, paying special attention to the few spots darkening to splashes of red.

“Not the time, Spencer,” you laugh at him, and he squeaks out an apology before lining himself up with you.

“You’re sure this is what you want?” He asks, a concerned look plastered on his face, and you pull him down for one short tender kiss before answering again.

“I have never been so sure of any decision I have made in my life, as I am sure about you.” He pressed a kiss to your lips in thanks and then slowly began to fill you up.

There was a small panic in the back of your mind, but he kissed praise into your skin, replacing all of your negative thoughts with nothing but his words, his actions, his love. You relaxed as he stretched you out, not moving his hips but letting his hand return between your legs to help you further adjust to the newness of it all.

You saw a panicked look fall across his face as he kissed away small tears that fell from your eyes, each a small apology for the pain, the confusion of your mixed emotions, but you just laughed his concern away.

“Happy tears, Spencer. They’re happy tears.” He laughed with you then, and with one last seeking out of your approval, you began to move together. His thrusts were slow, lavishing you with attention, letting you feel all of him as his body sought your pleasure. Your legs wrapped around him, unable to stop the desperate need to buck up, up, up with each of his downward strokes.

You were a mess of limbs and kisses, neither of you experienced enough to know how to do anything past what felt good, what felt natural, and you spent your time together like that, giggling with each chaste kiss, moaning and sighing as you both worked your way up to an ecstatic release.

Falling down on top of you after you came together, Spencer didn’t pull out, holding you somehow closer than before as you both let the oxygen return to your lungs.

“I love you,” he whispered into your lips.

“I love you,” you whispered back.

Yes, it was not going to be like that with anyone else. And you didn’t want anyone else at all, now that you finally had him.

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid smut #mgg #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fandom #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x reader smut #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds smut #requested #❤️‍🩹 Anon

673 notes · View notes

silantryoo · 1 year

Text

PR STUNT ; kim minji

idol! kim minji x fem! le sserafim! reader

SYNOPSIS ; y/n didn’t hate kim minji, but because of some idiot decided to out their ‘relationship’ and the need to cover up their senior's scandal, she gets caught in a not-so-ideal situation. she just hopes that she can get through it without any problems.

TAGS ; idol x idol! reader, reader is related to kim jennie (doesn’t appear here), daddy issues, wlw, angst, fluff, idol au, enemies to friends to lovers, slow burn, crack, smau, happy ending

WARNINGS ; strong language, drama, cyberbullying, death threats, mentions of iz*one disbandment, overworking, mentions of emotional abuse, underlying mental illness

FEATURING ; newjeans, le sserafim, ahn yujin, mentions of ex-iz*one members, ive, bts, txt’s soobin, nmixx’s jang kyujin

STATUS ; COMPLETED!

PLAYLIST!!

PROFILES. LE SARAH FIN. NEW SKIRTS.

CHAPTERS.

00. assert my dominance

01. fuck dispatch

02. kkura-unnie can pull?

03. what a whore

04. problem??

05. KIM JENNIE?

06. it begins

07. feral hyein

bonus: the publicity date

08. no dating (y/n vers.) pt.1

09. no dating (y/n vers.) pt.2

10. not a date (minji vers.)

11. pr the airbender

12. bridgit mendler-sunbaenim

13. baby’s first scandal

14. #goinginsane

15. pre-(not)date checkup

16. not date dos + new cast member?

17. ahn yujin, emotional support dog

18. wrong acc mb

19. bestie zone

20. the public knows (TW)

bonus: iz*one’s ahn yujin?

21. ahn yujin appreciator

22. best unnie, yunjin-unnie

23. good luck y/n

24. coupling

25. blind much?

26. wait why are they cute?

27. phoning w/ minji + y/n

28. privileges obtained

29. third wheel

30. r u stupid?

bonus: minji the simp

31. dreams are (not) a girls best friend

32. i’ll break your knees

33. #nongfproblems

34. y/n’s kazuha era

35. ily

36. fruity

37. food poisoning(?)

38. realizations

bonus: brain cells at work

39. #notpooingjustspilling

bonus: siri, how do you deal with daddy issues? (TW)

40. best unnie, yunjin-unnie (pt.2)

41. honey, you’ve got a storm coming

42. Ioml <3

43. best (non)girlfriend

44. feral… y/n?

45. *MY GIRL

46. hanni pham, the homophobe

47. running in circles

48. WHY DO YOU HATE ME??

49. the start of the end

50. confessions of an idiot (pt.1)

51. confessions of an idiot (pt.2)

52. confessions of an idiot (pt. 3)

bonus: confessions of an idiot (irl)

53. WE DID IT

54. Y/N-SUNBAE ILY

55. death to jang kyujin

56. break up era

57. it was fun while it lasted

epilogue, after three months

epilogue bonus: after three months (pt. 2)

XTRA: happy new year, unnie

taglist (CLOSED)!!

@fav9yu @gojosrug @lizseos @captivq @invusblog @writingficsblog @wonyoluvr @limbforalimb @lethalvenus @archerheejin @bibrinastan @ahnneyong @theeyoon @phamminji @chaersly @misumiausworld @afiaaaa19 @yumtooki @oshyci @txtbrainrot @falling-intoo-deep @0310lvr @yizhoutv @rinpopz @serenitygrace24 @noiacha @marimo-anura @sserajeans @cfvgbhndun-new-blog @rd0265667 @li0ilthecxnt @dmndtears @rosiehrs @yeridaenggi @spritin @cecedrake2217 @meltingbluess @jeonsy98 @haerinstolemyhrt @ssambf @awkwardtoafault @babycubchae @perfectsunlight @forever-in-the-sky2

#kim minji x reader #minji x reader #newjeans x reader #new jeans x reader #le sserafim x reader #newjeans smau #smau #idol x reader #silantryo

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halcyonfawn · 5 months

Text

the meaning behind "face the raven" theme in "wild blue yonder" and more

a continuation of this post. i need to talk about this otherwise i'll explode.

some people have also said that this theme is playing in "last christmas" and "hell bent" (thank you for pointing that out, i'm going to die) which makes it all even worse (better). therefore, this post is, more or less, destined to turn into capaldi's era brainrot. but not all of it, i promise.

you've been warned.

first of all, allow me to refresh your memory. let's look into the context of the scenes where we heard this music theme before.

"last christmas"

according to series 8 official soundtrack, this theme is a part of "every christmas is last christmas" and is heard quite clearly two times. they're both important scenes for the doctor and clara.

too late.

a moment full of regrets and nostalgia. the doctor thinking he's lost clara again, wishing he would have come back sooner. clara reminicing her life without the doctor in it.

"so no one matched up to danny, eh?" "there was one other man, but that would never have worked out." "why not?" "he was impossible."

it is (heavily) implied that "one other man" is the doctor. does the doctor himself realise that she's talking about him? open for interpretation. but what this small exchange truly does is showing a game of saying something without actually saying it.

"can you really see no difference in me?" "clara oswald, you will never look any different to me."

yet another way of dancing around words. there's something special and touching about this last line. it is sort of a confession of unconditional love. but the word itself - love - is never spoken out loud.

then again, twelfth might be face blind.

second chances.

now, this scene is a complete opposite of the one mentioned above. it's full of hope, anticipation, happiness. a beginning of a new arc. he is given a second chance and he takes it. the doctor asks clara to run away with him once again. and she says "yes" without hesitation, takes his hand, kisses him on the cheek.

conclusion? these two scenes are focused entirely on the doctor and clara's relationship. it is there to show their strong connection, how much they mean to one another. utter devastation at the thought of their time ending and the absolute joy of reuniting after being separated. a chance at a happy ending. which also makes the music that plays on the background their theme.

"face the raven"

"every christmas is last christmas" is now turned into "face the raven" and is asocciated with clara's death. it also makes the previous name even more heartwrenching since last christmas was literally clara and doctor's last hurrah. we can hear this piece of music appear in two scenes as well.

clara's monologue about facing the raven.

"if danny pink can do it so can i. die right. die like i mean it, face the raven. maybe this is what i wanted. maybe this is it. maybe this is why i kept running. maybe this is why i kept taking all those stupid risks, kept pushing it."

she's accepting her fate and aknowleges her recklesness all the way throught the season 9. it was meant to be. there wasn't enough space for two doctors in the tardis.

"i let you get reckless" "why? why shouldn't i be reckless? you're reckless all the bloody time! why can't i be like you?" "clara, there's nothing special about me. i'm nothing but less breakable than you. i should've taken care of you."

this scene is also about how a human life can be so very short compared to the time lord's and how easily it can end. it's fragile. and it's the doctor's curse: bearing the pain of losing his loved ones.

clara meeting her fate.

as she approaches the raven, ever so brave, the doctor watches her. he hears clara scream, then witness her collapsing onto the ground. it is extremely painful, but this is, i repeat, the doctor's curse: watching his companions leave. there's no use in running away from that pain, it haunts him every step of the way.

"hell bent"

next time, "face the raven" theme can be heard during the memory wipe sequence. there is no name given for the background music in this particular moment, but it's quite obvious it represents loss and... letting go?

the doctor is about to make clara forget their time together (does that ring a bell, anyone?).

it is worth pointing out that the music becomes the loudest at the exact moment the doctor says:

"look how far i went for fear of losing you. this has to stop. one of us has to go."

it is the culmination of their relationship. companions that push each other to extremes. together they might destroy the whole universe in order to keep each other safe. there's no other way but to separate. they've formed such a strong connection than one is ought to forget the other.

even though at first the doctor is determined to wipe clara's memories, he then admits she is right: it is unfair to take away all that wonderful time they had from her. so he gives her a choice. or, more like, an offer to play a russian roulette. it's either you or me. i'm not going to press that button. we will do this together.

to summarise: all of these moments featured a strong connection between clara and the doctor. it also tells us a story about how hard it is to lose someone you care about deeply, especially for the doctor.

how is it all connected to the doctor and donna?

memory wipe

the doctor has to make donna and clara forget about him in order to keep them safe. expect that he doesn't give donna a choice, wiping her memory almost instantly, without saying a proper goodbye to her. obviously, he didn't have enough time to think of a better way to solve the problem since donna wouldn't have lasted long. however, it is still a decision he regrets making.

from "the star beast":

"i'm so glad you're back, donna. it killed me, it killed me, it killed me."

if we take a look at clara's situation, it's a bit different. i've already mentioned it above: at first, the doctor wants to do the same thing to clara that he did to donna. make her forget. expect, this time he is confronted for doing so (even threatened, at some point).

"these have been the best years of my life and they're mine."

i think this line triggers something in the doctor. because this is when he realises that this is not the right thing to do. not exactly. he'd already done it once and he regretted it. so this time, he offers a slightly different solution. someone still has to forget, but they'll press that button together. it's a mutual choice.

now, i know it's not entirely related to the dialogue in "wild blue yonder", but i think it's worth mentioning that donna and clara's stories are somewhat similar. i'm sure it's been said before, but it's still important.

donna's story was incomplete because she wasn't given a choice. now, that she remembers, 14th doctor makes sure their time together is worth-while. a second chance just like in "last christams".

too alike

another similarity between these two stories is that clara and donna are not entirely humans. not anymore.

donna's half timelord. even though her head is still not big enough to fit all the doctor's memories, she still has a part of the doctor in her.

clara's frozen in time, that makes her practically immortal. she risks her life, she reverses the polarity of the neuroblock, she gets her own tardis, she's even reffered to as "clara who" at the end of "hell bent". she has become the doctor in a sense.

but there can only be one doctor. so where's the story heading to at this point, i wonder? but we'll come back to this question later.

"but what really happened?"

before i say anything, it is obvious that the doctor's silence before and after he says "a lot" is him reminicing all that'd happened to him during the 11th, 12th and 13th reincarnations. all of the loss and pain he went through.

but why "face the raven" theme of all things? it could be a general theme of grief/nostalgia/painful memories, nothing else implied.

but please let me be delusional for a bit longer!

just as that scene in "hell bent" brought the doctor back to the moment he made donna forget him, could it be that bringing back his best friend's memories in a whole universe that "he absolutely loves", also reminded him of another important person in his life with similar story? just like "hell bent" mirrored "the journey's end", "wild blue younder" gave us a reference to "hell bent".

this is where we get back to the question about the current story direction.

foreshadowing?

donna's story is not over. and there are a lot of possibilities how it can end.

say, there is a connection to clara's story here, i wonder if that's where the plot's heading. in one of the trailers, the doctor does say "i'm not sure if i can save you this time" to donna. and it worries me. then again, maybe they're just tricking us into thinking something bad will happen (oh the drama).

i'd say it's unlikely donna's going to die because that would be absolutely devastating after just bringing her back. at the very least, the ending wouldn't be completely "happily ever after". perhaps, sacrifices will be made in order to prevent something truly horrible from happening.

why did this face come back?

in "the girl who died" twelfth doctor finally realises why he got his face. it is a call-back to "the fires of pompei" (don't even get me started on its being the episode with 10th and donna).

the message the doctor was giving to himself turned out to be:

"i'm the doctor and i save people!"

but what is 14th trying to tell himself?

i think it's about donna and more.

he's fixing his mistake of erasing her memories and depriving her of the right to remember amazing things that'd happened to her.

it's a reminder to actually tell people how much they mean to him. as we can see, 14th's more open with his feelings and constantly shows signs of affection towards his loved ones, even breaking the "never say i love you" rule.

it's about being honest and open with people because they deserve to hear it from him and he deserves to hear it back. because "things happen and then it's too late".

again, take 12th doctor, for instance. he constantly represses his feelings. but in my humble opinion, the reason why he's changed by season 10 was clara. she pulled him out of the dark place. and even though her death almost threw him back to that state again, he is still a better man by season 10.

but there were things left unsaid. love and care were always there but it was never said out loud. kind of the same thing happened with 13th.

i strongly believe that donna is that person for 14th. they're best friends who love each other deeply. and after the doctor lost her and got a second chance to fix everything, he does, he's being affectione. he's finally open with his feelings.

conslusion: why did you make us read all fo this?

to answer the question in the title: it's all tied with how memories are important and priceless, fixing past mistakes, moving on and learning to treasure every moment with people you care about like it's your last.

it can also be a foreshadowing for something terrible, but i choose to hope for the better.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

aaaand that is the end of my doctor who rant. thank you for getting this far, if you did!

my feelings about all of this can be described with this one meme:

#doctor who #doctor who meta #dw #dw spoilers #wild blue yonder #twelfth doctor #fourteenth doctor #tenth doctor #donna noble #clara oswald #face the raven #last christmas #hell bent #twelveclara #whouffaldi #i'm sincerely sorry if you've stumbled across some stupid grammatical or other mistakes while reading #i wrote a part of this at 3am #[unhinged analysis]

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midnightlizard · 3 months

Text

Why can't everyone just go away, only you can stay

Wanda Maximoff x gn!reader

Summary: After a bad mission, your girlfirend is there to help you

Warnings: canonical violence, hurt/comfort at it's peak

A/N: I wrote this years ago so I don't really like it, but here it is. Also, I had emo Wanda in mind but it can be any era

Word count: 1518

"How is that cut? Need any help?"

you raised your head form were you were sitting on the quinjet while mending your forearm, to look at the blonde.

"don't worry I got this, I've had worse, anyway."

you signed, smiling reassuringly.

"okay." Clint sighed.

"I'll do your report, we've held the same position so I'll just have to change some words."

He stopped you before you could interject

"you need some sleep"

and without another word, he went to sit in the pilot's seat, leaving you there.

>>>>

As soon as the team got off the plane, you went straight to your room and locked the door.

Meanwhile, Wanda was with Natasha in the kitchen, preparing dinner for the two of them. They stopped once Steve came into the room.

"hey Steve, already back?"

"the mission ended before the time, so here we are." he answered the assassin's question, while picking up some leftovers from the fridge.

At this, the witch tilted her head "something wrong?"

The captain sighed "I wasn't there, you should ask them yourself"

The two redheads looked at each other, exchanging confused stares.

>>>>

Wanda decided to give you some space, she knew that once you were okay you would be the one coming to her.

Only this time, it didn't happen. Two days have passed and you were still in your room, which meant you hadn't eaten anything.

The other avengers have tried to get you out, like Tony asking for help in the laboratory, or Thor stating he wanted to play some 'Midgard games'.

But they only got silence in return.

The witch took matters into her own hands.

She went in the kitchen, fixing you a quick meal and grabbing two water bottles, before knocking on your door.

No one answered, so she tried again, this time with her voice.

"(Y/N)? It's me, it's Wanda. Please open the door."

she waited a few seconds, before she resumed talking.

"at least take the food, you can't-"

Her voice died in her throat when she heard the door open.

Having her hands full, she used her powers to open it completely and closing it once she was in.

Your room was always messy...but this, Wanda has never seen all this chaos. Clothes were all over the place and everything that was normally on the shelves was now on the floor.

The rays picking through the blinds being the only thing illuminating the room.

You still wore your dirty and bloody suit, whose blood it was she couldn't tell.

You were sitting on the bed, looking at the hands on you lap. The redhead left the food on the nightstand before sitting beside you. She didn't dare touch you, not knowing what reaction it would have led to.

“I didn’t want you to see this.”

You suddenly said, breaking the agonizing silence in the room.

"honey it's okay, I don't care about the mess, I only care that you are fine."

She put her hand on yours, only for you to swiftly getting away.

"well I am, if you didn't know I can heal my body, so even if I get hurt it doesn't matter."

You replied a little harshly. You noticed your tone and looked at Wanda for a brief second but couldn't bring yourself to say sorry, you just didn't want to talk and make everything worse.

Your girlfriend, thankfully, understood the venom in your voice wasn't aimed at her. She couldn't read your mind, no, but she could distinguish volumes and velocity of your thoughts, and with time she was able to associate them with your feelings and emotions.

Loud and messy cries was all the scarlet witch could hear, which only meant one thing, you were scared.

So she tried with the sweetest voice she could master.

"angel, do you want to talk about it?"

You jumped off the bed and started pacing around the room, fidgeting with your fingers.

"I-I had to hold position, but-but there was a bomb. They put a bomb where we were supposed to stay and then, I-I tried to reject- Clint was busy-"

Your poorly formed speech stopped once you felt warm hands on your cold cheeks. You were starting to have a panic attack, sign the sokovian knew all too well.

"please look at me, shh it's okay. You don't have to explain. (Y/N)-"

She took one of your hand and put it on her chest, to let you feel it rising and her heartbeat.

"you're okay love, just follow my breathing, the mission went well, Clint is fine, you are fine, you are here with me you hear me?"

She kept looking into your eyes, searching for any reaction.

At this point you didn't know if she was using her powers or it was her aura, all that mattered was that in minutes you calmed down. As slowly as one could, you loosely wrapped your hands around Wanda's waist.

Once she sure it was okay to move, she made the final step and wrapped you up in a hug, her chin on your head, resting on her chest, while the sokovian run her hands through you hair.

As she tried to move the two of you to bed, the witch heard your arms tighten around her middle, and your flebile voice whispering- "Can we just stay here for a moment?"

"I’m not going anywhere."

>>>>

After probably half an hour you raised your head and without a word, connected your forehead to hers.

Once you opened your eyes, you found her already looking at you with a smile.

"hey."

"hi" Wanda nudged you nose with her own, before connecting your lips in a long but simple kiss, neither of you moving, only slightly smiling.

The woman took your face in her hands

"can I mend your cuts?"

At your nod, the readhead took your hands and brought you to the bathroom and sat you on the sink.

While she was looking for the first aid kit you started fidgeting with your hands.

"something wrong baby?"

She tilted her head, preparing the alcohol on the wadding.

"it's just-" you hesitated for a moment, softly laughing

“I’ve never had someone taking care of me before.

I'm sorry for reacting that way...and for locking myself here"

"it's okay, you won't have to worry about doing it all by yourself anymore, even when you feel like no one is there, I'll always be here, ready to help you, got it?"

"good" she added after you nodded, booping your nose, causing you both to giggle.

"Can I kiss you?" she asked, once silence settled in.

"when have you ever asked?"

So she did.

As you were enjoying the kiss, you suddenly felt the cut on your forehead burning, causing you to pull away.

"ow, what the hell?"

"sorry baby, I have to disinfect it or it's going to get worse" she looked at you sympathetically, which was enough to convince you.

After a short while, you raised your hands, bringing them on the edge of her jeans and opened your legs, to bring her closer. Once she was done she kissed the top of your head.

She grabbed the end of your shirt and slowly started to undress you, only leaving the pants on.

"take a bath love, I'll be right outside, okay?"

>>>

After you got out of shower, you found some pants with your comfort hoodie on the sink, while your suit was nowhere to be found.

When you came back to the bedroom, you found your girlfriend wearing one of your sweatshirt. A smile made its way to your face.

"I kind of wanted to ask you to stay here because I don’t wanna sleep alone tonight, but it looks like you have already decided" you finished with a shrug.

She blurted out a laugh, coming in front of you.

"I didn't want you to sleep alone, and I also missed you, so it's a win win."

The readhead mormored with a blush on her cheeks.

With the grip she had on your hands, Wanda dragged you to bed and made you sit on the edge. "come on, eat something" she encouraged you, putting the plate on your lap. It was nothing too sophisticated but you still ate it within minutes. And once a water bottle was offered to you, you quickly drank it all.

When she was sure you took full care of yourself, well you both did, she laid in bed, getting behind you.

You instinctively turned around and closed your arms around her waist, laying your head on her chest, while she ran her hand through your hair.

“I love you.”

“I know.”

The remark caused you to scoff and her to laugh, before continuing with her speech.

"and I love you, always and forever."

She laughed again when you nuzzled your head in her neck, not knowing how to take direct words of affection.

"goodnight, my love"

This time as a response she heard your breathing even out, meaning you were already asleep, her not being too far from you.

Wanda Maximoff Masterlist - MCU Masterlist

General Masterlist

#mcu x reader #mcu #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff #wanda x reader #wanda x you

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flowering-thought · 3 months

Text

Part fourrr-

Lowkey not sure how my insane simping for Ganondorf when TOTK came out would lead to this

This is the final part but maybe I'll make more stuff about it one day just probably not anytime soon-

Hehe welcome to part 4! Drama and reunions and an ultimatum as well. I wonder what will come to pass hm? Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four

WARNING - MINORS DNI

AFAB reader and reader is described as feminine and chubby/plus sized.

Yandere themes, slight gore??, angst and tears, eventual fluff, pregnancy and birth-

Yandere Ganondorf x Archeologist Reader (part three)

Just when you thought you wouldn't feel that familiar sensation of falling, that light that blinded you and took your consciousness appeared once again.

You felt like you were in a dream. Visions of Zelda becoming a dragon crossed your mind, her tears falling to the ground and those visions were soon combined with the sight of Ganondorf being sealed away.

You wandered through what looked like red fog, the sounds of monsters and the clashing of swords echoing in your consciousness.

You were dreaming, you knew that, and yet you didn't know what you were dreaming of.

Apart of you wanted to forget everything, you wished that nothing had gone wrong. And the whispers echoing in the red fog along with the constant sound of fighting affirmed that.

You heard his voice, the voice of the man you fell for in an Era you never thought you'd experience.

"Why? Why did you leave?"

"We could have been happy together!"

"If you had just let me protect you-"

The constant whispers became louder but suddenly went silent. Erie silence until the fog cleared, and what filled your vision was the sight of the man you love hunched over with his knees on the ground.

"Can't we just go back to what we were?"

You were about to touch him, to beg and plead with him. You wanted to cry as you reached out, using your arms to cover him and bury your head into the crook of his neck.

You cried as you held tight, never wanting to let go.

"I wanted to be with you forever." You whispered, "I wanted to live peacefully with you, just you and me." You confessed between sobs, your hands balling tight.

"But you wanted power. You wanted authority. I would have done anything to stay with you if you had just believed in me." You confessed.

And as sudden as the fog disappeared, it came back, rushing your senses as everything went black.

You suddenly woke up in a bed that was all too similar to Purah's in Lookout Landing. You noticed how tightly you held the sheets, letting go to wipe the tears from your cheeks.

Link sat by your bed, shoulders, and head drooped as you guessed he probably fell asleep while watching over you. Purah sat at the small desk she had set up, writing in her own journal until she realized your movement, getting up before she checked on you, her brows furrowed in worry as she felt your forehead.

"Where have you been? I've been worried about you." She asked, her hands running through your hair, "Link told me you and Zelda were still missing. That you both disappeared.".

Upon looking at her you burst into tears, your lips pressed together in an attempt to stifle the cries coming from your throat.

She hugged you close, pulling you up to sit up with her, she felt you burrow into her, all the comfort made you feel safe, you felt like you could finally just rest.

But when Link woke up and more people came to check on you finally you told Link everything that happened on your end. You told him of Ganondorf, you told him of Zelda and how her power returned you due to the secret stone.

And then you remembered how Zelda turned into a dragon, a lump filling your throat as your mouth opened but no words came out.

Link told you of what happened while you were gone, how he found memories from a dragon's tears, ones that showed him visions of the past. He told you how Rauru gave him his arm and how he led him to shrines of light to regain the strength he lost. And as well as the secret stones that are now in the hands of four sages.

You wanted to tell him about Zelda, you wanted to tell the truth but something in you couldn't say it.

So instead, "Find the rest of the memories. I don't think I should be the one to explain the rest. What happened is too hard to explain." You said. There was a slight frown Link showed but he nodded and agreed with you.

You got up and went to see the four new sages, and watched as Link explained that they would have to wait to rescue Princess Zelda whom they saw in the castle as things weren't adding up. And yet many of the sages disagreed, trying to convince Link that it couldn't wait.

You picked up what was going on and knew that it had something to do with Ganondorf. You watched as they argued back and forth, Link mostly silent as he listened to their advice and suggestions.

"I think maybe you should go." You stated, watching as everyone halted their rising voices of frustration. Link looked to you to let you explain, "It won't be easy to get into the castle but I think there may be something I can do to stop this mess." You say, your fists clenching by your side.

You knew it would be risky, but maybe if you could convince Ganondorf, you could stop this nightmare. But you didn't want Link to know how far you'd be willing to go to prevent bloodshed, so you weren't going to try to talk to Ganondorf until Link couldn't try to stop you.

"I can stay out of the way but I think there might be something in there that could help get Zelda back." You added, trying to seem convincing. Not to mention since you now know that the castle was built on top of the place of the final battle this entire time it might be true that something hidden inside the castle could help. But for now, you just needed to convince Link to bring you along while the sages secured the property since you prolonged Link going into the castle to see what was happening.

You kept a hand over your stomach unconsciously, your mind wandering to what to say. "I'm going with you Link. I'll stay out of the way just like I did when we traveled! But please I need to be there with you just in case." you insisted.

Link shook his head, his brows furrowing as you took his hand, "Please Link you don't understand. There are things I can't yet explain so please just take me with you." you begged, giving his hand a squeeze.

Link didn't want to, you could tell in his expression but he could also see something in yours. He could see a desperation he had never seen before adorning your face and as much as he wanted to keep you safe a part of him knew he had to agree. So much to Links' displeasure, he nodded, giving you a squeeze back before he let go of your hand.

Before long the sages stayed near the entrance to the castle, mentioning a plan in case things go wrong and that they would survey the castle for any signs of something going wrong.

Luckily you and Link were used to traveling together. You knew to stay a few paces behind at all times and help carry most of the inventory except for certain elixirs that were better staying with Link if he ever got into a pinch.

You held onto the food and medical supplies, often you also carried the map and extra arrows as well. You and Link figured out early on in your travels that it was best that he didn't carry too much and way himself down when fighting. You also tended to help remind him when the sun was about to go down or when the weather was about to turn.

Somehow you were better at certain things while he was better at others. Staying a few paces away tended to make sure Link was in control of the situation if a monster appeared out of nowhere.

But as you gathered some supplies and eventually joined Link on his way to the castle. He reminded you that the castle itself is filled with more powerful creatures; so to stay as away as possible and if he has to check out a room to stay behind in the already cleared room.

Which honestly sounded the best. According to everything that went on with the leaders/sages of the others who informed you about things happening around Hyrule you came to understand that Ganondorf was not only trying to make things more advantageous for himself but also seemed to me looking for something.... or someone..

It unsettled you that the castle felt the same as before, just as dangerous and dark as it felt when Link had gone to rescue Zelda all those years ago. You stayed paces behind as rooms were cleared and as you watched Link battle monsters. And as "Zelda" appeared and words were left behind by "Zelda" you were more certain this was a trap and you were wondering if Link knew that too. After all, Zelda never had this kind of demeanor and Link knows Zelda just as much as you do, maybe even better than you.

You watched as he fought and would toss health elixirs if you thought that he was getting too hurt. You hated that you could only watch but still tried to provide as much as you could.

But unknown to you, a familiar figure watched on, his fists clenched at the sight of you and that damned Link.

You looked the same as the day you left, the same as the day he was sealed. And he knew you had to have come back recently, as at the beginning he saw it, the sight of you and Zelda falling and reaching for each other.

And he saw the light that enveloped you both as you disappeared.

He only realized it too late that you were there. But he knew that he couldn't reach for you then, if he did it risked something changing. He didn't know fully what would change, but he knew better.

And he saw it from a distance, the sight of your form descending from the skies in a pool of light, the same clothes you wore back then, the Gerudo attire you wore around the village. He can still remember the sight of you with that precious sun umbrella the kids made you, your feet having a light spring in their step, and the bright smile you had as you walked around the village in front of him.

He watched carefully as both you and Link made it through the castle, all the way to the final destination.

The throne room before the hundred years of sleep was beautiful as you heard from Link. You once asked him to describe it to you and you sketched it out on your notebook. You also would look at the paintings for the place used to look.

You both knew that the sanctum only had a few entrances and exits, so instead of following Link to a place you couldn't help you asked if you could hide in the place above, the place where the big hole in the ceiling allowed access to the throne room, where you could freely drop health elixirs or aid should he need it. You could also see if you could signal to Tulin if needed as he was patrolling the skies of Hyrule castle.

So you found a place where the gloom couldn't reach near the hole and sat down, keeping low to the ground made you feel less like you'd fall over and more hidden.

You watched Link enter the throne room, watched as Zelda appeared and approached, her voice echoing off the walls of the castle;

"Link! At last... I've been waiting for you to arrive... There's something I want to show you.." was what you heard as you leaned over the edge to get a better look, a glamour coming over the castle as though by magic appeared, the throne room that Link had once described to you now appeared before your eyes, the same floor you were on transformed to the castles former glory.

You watched as "Zelda" grew closer, never knowing where she would appear next, Link stood on guard, feeling as though he definitely wasn't safe.

"Hyrule castle.. Perfect and glorious... Does it bring back memories of our time here?" She asked, you thought for a moment you could hear the malice in her voice. "Take a good look Link... for it's the last thing you will ever see."

You listened and peered over the entrance from the ceiling, watching as the form you had seen below Hyrule castle appeared like a puppetmaster above the fake Zelda, her body going limp as though the strings that held her were cut.

You watched her body disappear and held your breath, watching as Ganondorf spoke to Link, you couldn't help but clench the edge of the ledge. You wanted to cry at the sight, your mind going blank before Ganondorf summoned what looked to be shadows of himself to attack Link.

You watched carefully as Link fought, your heart beating anxiously. What you had yet to notice was the figure of Ganondorf behind you, his weakened form watching you carefully before pulling you away from the ledge.

Startled you whipped you head to see who on earth was there only to see him.

The love of your life, the only person you had come to love in your short life. Tears welled in your eyes but you refused to cry in front of him, rapidly blinking and trying to think of something else, "What are you doing? Stop this!" You yelled, moving away from him quickly.

You saw the hurt in his eyes quickly be subdued, his form standing there eerily silent. "Stop this? You cannot be so foolish my love." He spoke, his voice nearly making you tremble as he grew louder.

"This has to be done. You ran away, you ran and let me be sealed for nearly ten millennia. Was our love so fragile that you could dare to do such a thing?" He shouted.

You watched as he took a few steps closer, his hands reaching for your shoulders. Despite how angry he was, despite how much you had hurt him, his grip was only tight and not painful. You thought for a moment you could feel his hands trembling.

"And now you've carried the fruit of our love all the way to now. Haven't you little vai?" He added. Your hand unconsciously reached down to your stomach, your eyes blown wide open.

"Had I known you would not stay in the past after allowing me to be sealed away I would have come to greet you. The sight of you falling into that abyss still haunts me but I understand that you had not yet known who I was when you fell." He states.

You didn't think he knew as much as he did, how could he know you hadn't birthed yet? How could he know that when you and Zelda fell you had yet to know who he was? Or had he truly pieced it together with a few guesses?

You shut your eyes, thinking of how to respond. And then a thought popped into your mind. So you shook free of his grasp, staring straight at him with determination.

"You're right Ganondorf. Watching you get sealed away was one of the worst things I could have ever witnessed. I regretted it. I wanted us to be happy." You confessed, watching as he grew impatient at your words.

"Then how could you stand by! How could you watch?!" He yelled, his hands clenching into fists at your words. "Because you left me no choice." You claimed.

"Because if you could so harshly kill when things were going so well then how could I know our future would be secure? You didn't trust me. You didn't trust that I wouldn't stay, you didn't trust me in the slightest."

You watched as his eyes widened and his shoulders hunched over, his hands clenching at his sides.

You moved closer to the entrance in the center, glancing over the side to see that Link was still occupied with the Phantom Ganons', he looked worried when he caught a glimpse of your figure up above.

You then looked straight again at Ganon once more, taking a breath in and out before continuing with your words, "I want this to end Ganon. I want us to live together once more." You confessed.

You watched as his features turned hopeful, stepping closer to you with excitement that could make him nearly burst. "Yes! Yes! I want that too!" He beamed.

You smiled a little, seeing a glimpse of the man you loved. "Then you must do something for me. And if you do this we can be together with no one else to interfere." You persisted, weight added to your words and Ganondorf nodded eagerly, "What is it? I'd do anything my love!" He stated, outstretched his arms to reach for you.

"Throw away the secret stone and stop this. Throw it away and come with me to live somewhere. We could have a home in the plains! We could live near my hometown or even far away from a village! Just as long as this does not continue. This cannot continue." You begged.

You watched as he hesitated, as his hands stopped and his eyes filled with uncertainty.

Tears filled your eyes once more, a rough laugh leaving your lips, "Can you truly not throw away power? You cannot do that to live with me in peace? To live in a place to call our own and raise our child together?" You scoffed.

You held yourself tightly as tears fell down your cheeks, Ganondorfs' mind quickly trying to come up with words to say.

You took a step backward towards the ledge, staying on the edge as you glanced at him, "A week." You stated.

"I will return to the castle in a week and if you do not have an answer for me then..." You gulped before speaking again, "Then I'm afraid I'll have no choice but to never let myself love you again."

Ganondorf reached out for you only for you to yell out Link's name, you tilted backward and allowed yourself to believe Link would catch you. And luckily he did.

At that moment the rest of the sages burst in, helping Link defeat the Phantom ganons and allowing you to stay safe.

You had only wished that you were not crying at that moment.

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It was soon that you made it back. And you didn't know how to answer any of Links questions. So you merely told him to finish gathering the dragons' tears. That when he collected them all he would come to understand what had happened.

You didn't have the heart to answer what happened to Zelda. And hopefully by forcing him to look for the memories he wouldn't be back before the weeks' end.

You were sure he would also try and do the tasks that Purah had wanted him to do as well, such as checking Kakariko village now that it was confirmed that the Zelda everyone had seen was a fake.

You decided to get a carriage ride back to your village, soon arriving at the entrance to Hateno Village.

You wanted to meet with the village chief wanting to discuss about your home and the wish to sell it. While it was the last thing your parents gave you, the memories you had there weren't something you wanted to keep. You often felt rather lonely in that house. Maybe that was the reason you could so readily leave.

The reason you wanted to sell was so you could build a new home elsewhere, hoping that Ganondorf would say yes to your proposal.

So that's what you ended up doing most of your week, looking for places on the outskirts of villages, including your own, where you and Ganondorf would not be bothered. You even looked at just land itself, knowing you had enough money left over to hire someone to build your house should there be the need.

While you were hopeful that Ganondorf would say yes you were also preparing yourself for him choosing power over all else.

What you didn't know was about a singular Phantom Ganon hiding in the shadows watching your every move.

While Ganondorf wanted to trust you and your words he wasn't sure at the beginning when you proposed such an ultimatum to him. What if it was a trap? What if you truly despised him now?

Yet with every move you made you only showed hope about him accepting your request.

He watched as you traveled quickly from carriage to carriage, often sitting with food storage in the back of a wagon to travel fast enough. He saw how you looked at every house and land, taking into consideration how you thought he would feel about each one.

You never looked at places in Gerudo nor in the northern regions, always looking to the southeast or towards the central region. He also saw you consult with a midwife on the best things to eat and what to not do.

His only dilemma was wondering if he could throw away such power.

He loved you, yet that dark part of him wanted both you and power, telling him he was strong enough to take both. But then he would remember the look on your face at every bad thing he did. That look of sorrow and distrust made his heart squeeze.

He slightly wonders what would have happened had he believed in you, had he asked what your wishes were. And had he listened to you, would you both still be wrapped around each other? Would you both be lying in bed preparing to welcome the child growing within you?

But it was too late to have regrets. He had to focus on the now, as the decision he made could allow him to lose you forever.

He knew that Link was remarkable. As much as his pride didn't want to admit it, he had to, or else he'd end up dead. Link was not only strong but extremely skilled. If he were to fight with Link? He's not sure who would make it out of the two. Not to mention that the goddess Hylia strongly supports Link, and with the help of the sages it is likely Link could make it to him unscathed.

But who would win? It's an answer he's not sure he wants to know.

He needed his strength back. If he's going to answer his lovely little vai, he should at least look the closest to himself as he was back before he was sealed.

Soon he would have to make a decision. And let's hope for his sake he makes the right one.

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As the week past you made sure to always have a ride back to lookout landing.

You made it back just before the deadline and started the trek to get up to Hyrule Castle.

You wondered how you would even make it up without running into any monsters but you were sure if you took some secret paths through the castle you'd be able to make it through.

So you embarked on your journey, slowly finding different paths to take if you run into any moblins or bokoblins or even lizard kin.

Most paths seemed to be oddly cleared out and it didn't take long for you to reach the sanctum without a scratch.

You wished it had been this easy the other day but you pushed that thought to the back of your mind before gazing at the entrance of the sanctum. You took a breath in and out and then walked in, finding that the sanctum looked as it did when "Zelda" had made it look new again.

You glanced at every corner, taking in how gorgeous the castle once looked. To think that such a glorious castle once stood here tall and mighty, yet 100 years without care and monsters running rampant was enough for it to fall into such disrepair.

And a certain tall man leaned behind you, wrapping you in his arms tightly, his once sickly form restored to what he once was. You hadn't even heard him or detected him, and now you stood there being held in his arms.

As much as you wanted to stay there, to let the warmth of his body comfort you, your anxiety would not stop until you heard his decision.

You took his wrist gently in your hand and guided his arm away from you, taking a step away from him before turning around and lifting your head to face him.

You saw it on his face, that look of love and warmth that you weren't able to see for what felt like such a long time. Those eyes that looked at you with kindness and warmth.

Your heart beat fast, the anxiety pooling in the depths of your stomach and creeping around your heart continued on despite how much the sight of his love for you made your heart ache for him.

Before you could even speak, his hand rose to the secret stone embedded into his forehead, his fingers fixing themselves around the stone before grasping it tightly. You watched in shock as he tore the stone from its place, a scar left behind by its place before he took your hand in his and placed the stone in your palm.

You could feel tears rushing down your cheeks, your fingers clenching around the stone and your palm tightly, the relief flooding you as sobs escaped your lips and your knees gave way from shock.

He caught you as you sobbed, his face worried as your other hand clenched at his robes and broken sobs of words you struggled to get out escaped your lips, "I... didn't think!" You sobbed, your sentences broken between heaves.

Ganondorf watched as you tried to form words before he eventually took you into his arms. He hated making you cry but the relief that you showed at his actions was worth it

He carried you out of the castle, a certain hero arriving at Lookout landing only to watch as soldiers and others gathered towards the gate, their enemy holding one of their comrades close to his chest and standing tall in all of his glory.

Link instinctively drew his sword, his hands wrapped around the hilt tightly, his teeth clenched as he prepared to fight. You quickly wiggled out of Ganondorfs' grasp, making him let you down as you presented the secret stone that once belonged to Sonia.

When the shock of Ganons' willingness to give up the stone vanished what filled you was a certainty that if you took the stone to the temple of time that you would be able to get Zelda back. Something in you just knew and after everything that had happened, you knew it couldn't wait.

"With this, we can get Zelda back. We need to go to the temple of time right now." You asserted. You could tell by the look in his eyes he had seen all the memories. And that while he knew the relationship between you and Ganondorf could be skewing your judgment, he saw something in you that knew something he didn't. And he trusted you just as much as he trusted Zelda.

So after telling everyone that Ganondorf was no longer an enemy and to stay put for you would explain in detail later, you and Link used the Purah Pad to go to the temple of time.

Standing at the decaying temple felt unreal as just a short time ago you had stood at its gate with Zelda, it's decayed form such a staggering difference to its current form. You allowed Link to lead the way for you through the temple, shaking your thoughts as you stelled your mind. Soon, coming to the place where Zelda had once pushed you back to the present time. For you it was only a little over a week, but for others, it's been longer since they've seen her.

So with Links' help to the platform where he once laid his sword, you slowly approached, a familiar dragon appearing suddenly wind rushing as you held the stone over the altar and finally placed it atop the surface. There was a light quick to blind you until you and Link were floating amidst what looked like clouds of green, the Dragon of Light floating before you.

You see Links' hand glow, Rauru and Sonia appear behind him, lending him the power needed to restore Zelda, the dragons' form slowly disappearing and Zelda's form returning.

And as just as quickly as Rauru and Sonia had appeared, they gave a sad look towards you before fading away.

And as everything unfolded, another blinding light appeared, revealing Zelda on the alter where you had placed the secret stone.

And it's as though you could finally let out a sigh of relief.

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Soon you would explain everything to Zelda, who would in turn explain to Link and the rest. Many felt uncomfortable letting Ganondorf go unpunished but considering the possible alternative of him attempting to rule all of Hyrule made them allow it under certain conditions.

He wasn't allowed anywhere near the Sky Islands nor Hyrule castle. It was decided that he could not travel to Gerudo either. Most of the southeast of Hyrule he could travel to. And after lots of talking with your husband, he agreed.

Zelda and Link would help make a system of precautions about where the secret stones would be held and who could access them.

And you had asked for a home to be built north of Zelkoa Pond on the outskirts of Hateno Village. In the end, you wanted to remain close but at arms' length.

The home took time and You and Ganondorf would stay at the lab atop the hill. He would often go down to chop wood for materials and began talking with a few of the villagers about farming.

As the months flew by and your home was built and furnished, Ganondorf made a bassinet himself for the nursery and slowly became more open to the villagers. You had started feeling more and more comfortable around Ganondorf as you watched him become his old self. The man you loved.

As your pregnancy advanced you watched him become more protective. He'd worry over every little thing you carried and if you ever showed any hint of discomfort he'd force you to sit down in a plush rocking chair he had built himself. He had started to work a lot with wood outside of farmwork so he had made much of the furniture inside your home.

Ganondorf had formed a habit at night where he would help you get nice and comfortable, fluffing up pillows and making sure you were pampered before bed. And once you were comfortable he would lay down carefully, adjusting himself till his feet lightly dangled off the bed so he could position his ear next to your stomach.

The grin that would adorn his face in these moments always made you happy.

And blissful moments would come often now that you had no worry about time traveling or Ganondorf getting ahold of the secret stones. You had made a point to Zelda before that you did not want to have the knowledge of what would be done with the stones.

It wasn't only so you wouldn't slip up or maybe tell him accidentally. It was so you didn't get comfortable and think that it was safe enough to tell him. You knew that you were incredibly weak when it came to Ganondorf, just as he was for you. So you would help with any other research, just never the secret stones.

It made things more peaceful and less stressful in your mind, never having to overthink it.

And then your water broke.

Ganondorf was outside working on something in a shed he built to work on things to make in when he heard you calling for him, the panicked tone in your voice made him drop everything before sprinting and slamming open the door nearly off its hinges.

He saw you holding onto the dining table, using it for support as you stood in a pool of liquid and held the bump on your stomach tightly, contractions beginning to become painful.

Purah who had been staying in the village for a short time arrived quickly, already sending word to Zelda and Link about the state you were in.

And every step of the way you clenched Ganondorfs' hand the tightest you've ever held it. He hated seeing you in pain, his body hunched over the bed you laid in and the sweat forming on your forehead.

He hated that all he could do was sit there. It's why he held onto your hands and let you squeeze him.

All you would hear from him were loving coos and encouragement, the occasional dab of a wet cloth across your forehead before a kiss followed.

And with a certain push brought one life into the world, one that cried the moment they came into the world.

You cried as you held your child, a boy with Ganons' distinctive red hair but with your lovely eyes. And when he looked down at the bundle in your arms he was so glad they had inherited your eyes. His hand carcasses your hair, tucking strands behind your ear as he leaves kisses on your forehead and cheek, leaving one across your sons' forehead as well.

It was a fresh start, a completely new beginning.

You and Ganondorf could now let go as the babies' cries stopped and everything finally felt peaceful.

That lingering thought in the back of your mind would later come into question. As your son was now the first male born to the Gerudo in quite some time..

But as you gazed at the loving child in your arms you put away all those thoughts that would make you anxious, you decided no matter what to protect them. Ganondorf came close, enveloping you both in a hug, smiles, and tears of relief adoring his cheeks as everything settled into place.

You hoped this peace would last for a long time.

#yandere x reader #yandere x darling #soft yandere #yandere totk x reader #yandere totk #yandere tears of the kingdom #yandere ganondorf x reader #yandere ganondorf #yandere male #yandere legend of zelda #yandere loz

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nightgoodomens · 12 days

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I really thought they'd keep things under wraps until GO3 was released. Big companies like Amazon don't like their actors causing a fuss or being caught in a "scandal", but man oh man looks like things are blowing up in the Sheenantburg "polycule".

Well I wouldn’t jump the gun yet, this doesn’t mean they’re coming out, but I think it might mean they’re not going to play along the new hetero game.

So let’s look a little bit at the timeline, shall we?

David goes to Cali for three weeks. We get content from GT - a video taken giving impression he wasn’t aware, sort of paparazzi shots, some from very far away, a miserable pic of him. He has fun with his kids but there’s nothing GT/DT. Before the trip we already had weird vibes from GT with her constant knocking DT down and having nothing to say about him winning apart from a repost without a good word and then burying the story within shit. Lots of break up songs too, but we were questioning is she reads the lyrics, however, it was weird how the lyrics were always about the same thing.

MS goes to Disneyland. DT goes to Disneyland. At the same fucking time.

Both get a chance to create a happy family image. Separately.

I mean, well, that was deliciously blunt but worked out so so.

Neil pops in to tell everyone that David and Michael are still very much in love just before Assembly and the era of hetero begins.

We figure out why the “happy happy” desperation from AL - Assembly gets released where MS chokes out he’s happy, and then focuses on talking about David and gives it all. AL loses it a little - she tries to interact with fans to push the happiness, reposts articles, fights with Swedish media… it doesn’t work out. While she makes Assembly about her, MS makes it about what mattered. He does not help her.

DT doesn’t help GT push the happy image either.

A blind gets released by Enty. Clearly about them. Stating the women are trying to push the happy family image in Disneyland while men would rather be together.

During the Blind and Assembly stuff, men remain separated. Until Oliviers happens.

GT posts two stories, one telling RadioTimes off for the nice article about DT, then praising one that called DT’s impression “deranged” - on that video she took without his knowledge most likely.

Oliviers, the PR save-the-hetero (aka oh-fuck-the-blind) show happens, where everyone expected some MS/DT action since DT was nominated and MS was announced as the presenter, instead it turns into a circus. The men don’t meet on the red carpet, DT stopped from going back, DT/GT are told to act like in fresh love only for DT to fail the “camera” moments, they’re sat right in the front to be visible playing the game and they overdo it, all it ends up with is MS soft looks at DT, as far as I know DT wasn’t shown at all which BAFTAs would never.

GT (who’s always escaped red carpets is now pushed by PR) tries to recreate the “look into my eyes for the camera” moment from BAFTAs, but DT doesn’t play along. AL pushes with the arm stroking, but MS doesn’t play along.

Two interesting things happen - highly photographed moment of DT sharing a hug with another man, who of course wasn’t MS. And MS presenting an award to someone else. Both felt like attempts at rewriting the history but all they did was highlight the real deal. Because they didn’t play along. Especially MS.

Media focuses on the women in an insane way considering they’re nobodies at Oliviers. Ladies post about the day as if it was their day. Pic with the men gets withheld until the fandom reminds them that they are here for the guys and so with a snark the women post the pic. Finally MS/DT look soft and happy when they’re with each other. MS stands with DT.

Interesting to note, there was no usual “preparing” pics and videos of DT from GT.

DT doesn’t win. GT posts a pic calling him a loser, he looks like he’s on the verge of a mental breakdown on that pic. I don’t know what happened, but he did not look… well.

Even the “normal” fans wince at the caption. She doesn’t even make it a story or anything, it’s right there as a post. Too bad she didn’t create a post when he won Critic’s Choice for his Macbeth (exactly what he was nominated for at Oliviers too), instead reposted a story from another account, added nothing, and buried it within crap. But “loser” got a whole post.

There was also a pic with a fan where DT doesn’t look well either.

GT and AL focus on promotion of themselves.

Yesterday a blurry video gets released of GT slapping her hand at DT to silence him, MS ready to silence her instead, and DT basically pointing at MS and standing closer to him. (Video up to your own interpretation). Sort of felt like it added context to DT looking the way he did at the end of the night.

No usual home selfie either.

And today. David’s Birthday.

GT showed what lovely posts she can create about people she cares about recently. While her story for DT “thanks for being born” was the kindest thing she’s done because for once she didn’t include an insult or “humbling” him, it was quite… well, nothing. Song choice was questionable. The story was cold. The picture was old.

We waited whole day for a post but no. We expected Cali pics, home pics… nope.

Not only she only created a story, right after she also posted HBD for an actress whose birthday wasn’t even on the same day, just to keep her theme of burying anything DT related that wasn’t about GT. But she’s done something interesting on that story - called the actress her favourite tv wife for DT and hashtagged don’t tell MS.

Honestly I just rolled my eyes. Nobody in the fandom would agree with her and trying to take a dig at MS… bad move.

RadioTimes is full of love for DT all day. And so are other accounts. Love is pouring from every side. Somehow GT isn’t keen to repost those articles.

Suddenly AL pops in with a story. And what a story. Not only she’s looking at DT cutout while holding a card “WINNER”, MS is standing between DT and GT, and the caption is “To my partner’s HUSBAND”. Not tv wife. Not “My wife’s husband.” This was just about DT and MS. Song choice has interesting lyrics too:

“There ought to be a law against

Anyone who takes offense

At a day in your celebration”

Winner not loser? Husband not tv wife? Anyone takes offense?

BAFTAs pops in to share a video of MS/DT of DT giving a glimpse of how they have met 20 years ago. Neil pops in to share on tumblr David being called Michael’s husband. You know the they’re-still-in-love guy.

GT reposts the story without a word and buries it. She doesn’t post anything for DT.

So what happened? It’s up to your interpretation.

Mine is this: They were meant to bury the rumours, hence massive hetero show for Oliviers, MS didn’t play along since the beginning, DT tried but fell apart, they snapped, GT took it out on the men, MS snapped back sick of her shitty posts about DT, the same way he did end of last year.

Seeing the way GT acted during that blurry video and today… I think she lost control and now even AL doesn’t side with her. But that one she also only has herself to blame for. And I wonder… who tipped off Enty?

What’s next? Not sure. Clearly PR’s new hetero idea didn’t fly. But was the joy only allowed for DT’s birthday? Or this is it, they won’t play the game anymore? What’s up with GT/DT, are they done but will play the game for the big events or done and won’t pretend anymore either? Am I going to be surprised if hetero bullshit happens anyway? Nah. Anything can happen now, I feel. But this day and what happened during it is a fact. Whatever damage control happens, if it does, won’t erase what happened today.

Interesting!

#NightGoodOmens talks PR

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