#I feel like she should have killed him where he stood for that one like nigga... | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

yuellii · 8 months

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🪼 HI USER YUELLII OMG I LUV JEALOUSY TROPES MAYBE THAT SAYS... SOMETHING ABOUT MY CHARACTER BUT I LOVEEEE JEALOUSY TROPES. AND WITH NEUVILETTE????? SOEMONE WHO PRIABBLY DOESNT EXPERIENCE JEALOUSY OFTEN IF AT ALL???? im sold. IM SOLD. PULLING OUT MY CREDIT CARD. IWOULD LITERALLY KILL TO READ UR THOUGHTS ON IT

The Four Stages of Jealousy : THE IUDEX.

STAGE I. — Identification.

There is a threat, that a person may feel losing someone to someone better than them. "I want what you have, and I hate that you have what I want."

Neuvillette wasn’t quite sure of the sudden twist in his stomach as he stood at your doorstep, a bag of pastries tucked under one of his arms and a box of tea bags carried under his other.

Saturdays, three o’clock sharp in the afternoon held meaning: A time in which he’d arrive at your boutique, treats in hand and a pleasant look on his face. He’d try on one of your hats, maybe, for it was a prime time for tea, taken advantage of by the two of you, alone together every Saturday afternoon. It was an evening of the week where he was most happiest, though that might’ve been only an assumption. But the tranquility he usually felt standing at your doorstep was never one he could ignore.

Unfortunately, said tranquility seemed to be lacking this time around.

What he expected as another nice time alone with you ( especially since it was on your undocumented schedule—but who cared for documents, when he looked forward to this meeting every week? ) was instead being interrupted by a certain someone. Namely, a certain Champion Duelist. And maybe, Neuvillette would not be so bothered, had she not been sitting in his seat.

( Said seat was also unspoken, or ‘undocumented’ between the two of you, but still. He sat there every week—therefore by repeated pattern alone, that antique chair in front of the table should be his. )

( And sure, this might’ve been your boutique’s seating area, where everyone comes to sit during the day; But on Saturdays during tea time, he’d like to think that seat was practically reserved for him. )

“Neuvillette!” you practically gasped, facial expression turning into one of lightened excitement at seeing him. There was a blissful ignorance in your voice—‘ignorant’ in the way he was truly glad you didn’t know he was mentally annoyed at the mere fact his seat was taken. But nevertheless, the tightrope of his heart fluttered at the sound of your voice, which always sounded so enthusiastic every week he came back here. Perhaps you were just excited to see him as much as he was excited to see you—the thought alone brings a shiver to his spine.

He approaches forward with a polite smile of his own when you pat the empty spot adjacent to you on the loveseat. Ah, so the theft of his usual antique chair leaves him to sit beside you. Maybe the uninvited guest was welcomed, now that he thought about it.

“What brings Miss Clorinde with us today?” he finally asked, addressing the most obvious outlier first. When he set the bag of pastries down on the table, he watched as the Duelist eyed it with interest.

Clorinde hummed. “I was here for a small chat, then I was told that Monsieur Neuvillette would be ‘arriving soon’. And here you are.” At the recount of events, Neuvillette noticed how Clorinde threw a playful look at you. This playfulness did not stop, unfortunately for him, when she leaned forward to peek at the paper bag he brought in. “Then I stayed, because I thought: ‘What could the Chief Justice possibly say that’s interesting enough for weekly conversations?’”

You gasped at her teasing insult. “Clorinde!” you scolded with slight laughter. “Monsieur Neuvillette is a great companion for tea conversations! He’s very interesting, indeed, I promise you!”

“Thank you,” Neuvillette coughed through his words. He’s beginning to feel a bit awkward here…

“Oh?” Clorinde piped up again, just before Neuvillette could even get another word out. “There’s a lot of pastries in here, and also a new box of tea?”

“He brings them for us to share every week!” you exclaimed happily, grabbing the bag off the table and kindly distributing a treat to everyone. And that’s when suddenly, Neuvillette wishes he only bought one for the two of you, because he watches as you set down the pieces of Conch Madeleines in front of the Champion Duelist, despite Neuvillette knowing those were your favorites. Meanwhile, instead, you gave him and yourself the remaining other pastries. But surely, you wouldn’t just give up your favorites like that… Unless you favored Clorinde. Ah, but maybe he was overthinking it. “Isn’t he the sweetest?”

Clorinde sends him a casual smirk, likely to tease him. “Sweetest, certainly.”

He wasn’t sure how to respond to any of this at all.

When he eventually had to leave, Clorinde still stayed there to chat with you, and he felt empty walking out of your boutique. Emptier than usual, actually. It was certainly confusing, due to the fact nothing inherently bad happened, and he certainly didn’t want to say Clorinde’s presence bothered him, or anything over-the-top like that.

Hm.

Neuvillette didn’t get to talk to you as much as he wanted to today.

STAGE II. — Confrontative.

Where negative thoughts start to bloom as "envy." Jealousy begins to indicate love for the person, and the individual is afraid of losing that object of their love.

It’s the following Saturday when he sees you again, and he can’t quite understand why he feels an air of relief upon seeing that Clorinde is not there today.

“Neuvillette!” You greet him with the same smile and same excitement as always, and the rush of paradise courses through his body before he sits across from you in his usual seat: the antique chair right in front of you. He sets down his paper bag of fresh pastries; And upon doing so, he can’t help but smile when he noticed there are only two teacups on the table. One for you, and one for himself. “You seem a little more delighted today”—Was it that obvious?—“What’s gotten you into a good mood, Monsieur?”

He hummed. “Nothing, really.” He actually wasn’t quite sure why he was feeling so joyous today, either, but as long as you were sitting there still smiling at him, then it would all be alright. “It’s just natural, since it’s always my pleasure to spend my Saturday afternoons with you.”

Bring your hand up to cover your mouth, you lightly gasped at his words. “Oh, Monsieur!” you giggled. “I hadn’t known you could be a charmer with your words!”

He liked the reaction you gave him. He thinks he liked the feeling of approval you gave him, but even more. Neuvillette learned rather gradually that you always tended to get a happy sort-of embarrassment from his ‘compliments’. Said ‘compliments’, however, referred to mere truthful facts he’s laid for you. But there’s a certain loveliness that comes with confiding in someone to tell all your truths to, and he’s more than elated that you’re the one he trusts to blabber endlessly to. He just hopes it can stay like this for a long time: Just the two of you, enjoying your Saturday afternoon tea.

“So,” Neuvillette began, watching as you took a bite of the Conch Madeleine he bought specifically for you. He had to catch himself from smiling at you—if his duty was to buy your favorite treat every week, then so be it. “How has your week been since I last saw you?”

Your hand once again flies up to cover your mouth as you quickly finish to chew and swallow the bite before answering him. “It’s been fun, actually! I saw a concert performed by a famous violinist—I believe I might’ve even spotted you in the front row…”

“Ah, yes, that would’ve been me. It was a spectacular performance; I’m happy to know you saw it,” he smiled. Hm, if he knew you were there that night, he certainly would’ve said hello. Your hand moves upwards once more to bring your teacup closer to your lips, and now he’s curious to ask: “And that ring of yours—that’s new, when did you get it?”

“Oh!” After setting the teacup down, you quickly leaned forwards, outstretching your right arm to show off the ring to him at a closer view. “I just got it yesterday, actually. Isn’t it beautiful?”

“It is.” It really dazzles to compliment your eyes. Neuvillette catches himself thinking of little things he’s never thought before. Like the way your hair frames your face perfectly, especially at this angle. Or the way your eyes held this delicate shine he admired so dearly, only now heightened by the sparkle of the ring’s reflection. There’s a new tide of poetry unspoken in the depths of his mind, and they might as well stay locked until he figures out just what this emotion is.

When you offer your hand for him to get a closer inspection of the ring is when his breath seems almost stolen from his lungs. Months and months of these weekly tea meetings, and yet he feels this is the closest proximity he’s ever been to you. Here, in his antique chair in the middle of your boutique shop, holding your hand from across the table.

But he feels a spark that he prays you sense as well, for the mere desire of wanting this moment to last forever is enough to tell him that he is completely in love with you.

He leans down gently to reach closer to your hand, kissing your knuckle so featherlight next to the ring. “And it’s even more beautiful on you,” he mutters to you when he pulls away.

Your heart might’ve skipped a beat when you retracted your hand, but he has no idea—he was too lovestruck just now to even think properly. But you take just a moment to recover whilst he’s still stuck in his little daze; Though, who could blame him when he just discovered the ethereal feeling of falling in love?

“Thank you,” you exhaled with a smile that seemed a little breathless. “Lady Clorinde helped pick it, actually.”

…What?

Well, that was a name he completely forgotten until just now. He cleared his throat, attempting to regain his composure after the sudden whiplash of emotions. From finding out he’s in love, to the pang of unwarranted negativity for the Champion Duelist. As expected, he couldn’t tell what this uncomfortable feeling was, but he certainly did not like it.

“Clorinde was there, you say?” he tried to clarify.

You nodded. A little too happily for his liking. “We went out shopping yesterday.” Oh. “And she said this ring really matched ‘the colors of my personality’, whatever that means!” you wholeheartedly laughed. The way you spoke of her, with all this smiling and all these giggles, was making him crave for something more. Did… Did you perhaps want to see him more outside of these tea times, too? You seem perfectly fine shopping with Clorinde now, after all.

He’s never gotten personal time with you like that. It’s always been solely Saturday afternoons, nothing more. And yet, Clorinde immediately gets invited to your shopping runs, and apparently her opinion is also important enough to make you buy the ring? How unbelievable. Neuvillette bets if he was there instead, he’d buy you every piece of jewelry that you even took so much as slight interest in, because that was what you deserved. But no, here he was, not invited to these outings at all, and further stuck wallowing as your mere ‘tea companion’, and not something more.

The door to the boutique suddenly opens, and the both of you turn your heads to the customer.

But instead of a client, you were met with the face of a slightly-smiling Clorinde, ever so amused to see the both of you here again. Well, she shouldn’t be amused. Neuvillette was here on schedule.

“Ah, you’re here!” you say excitedly, briskly standing up to grab another set of tea; And now, Neuvillette can’t quite tell if you greet everyone at the door with this same excitement, and it’s not just restricted to him alone. He shouldn’t be that selfish, of course, so he thinks perhaps it should just not be directed at Clorinde, specifically.

“Pardon me,” Clorinde announced, making her way to the table after you set the tea display down. “I’ll be intruding on the both of you again.” Neuvillette wishes he had any right to refuse.

This time, now that he’s regained his rightful spot on the antique chair, Clorinde had no choice but to sit… right next to you on the loveseat—the same place Neuvillette sat last week when his spot was stolen. A moment comes forth where he now no longer wants his seat at all ( which he doesn’t understand why, because shouldn’t he be happy his unspoken designated seat is back? ), and prefers the loveseat.

Maybe it was the sight of Clorinde next to you, and the fact she was sitting so much closer than he’d like to imagine. And suddenly, that’s when he realizes he doesn’t like the idea of Clorinde being this close to you at all.

“Oh! You’re wearing the ring I got you!” Clorinde recognizes. She grabbed your right hand to immediately inspect it, and Neuvillette can’t help but feel like someone just shot him. Not only did she comfortably grab your hand like it was nothing ( meanwhile, he had to find both the confidence and the breath to even try to kiss your hand earlier ), but she also got it for you? The little detail you never mentioned: That Clorinde bought you the ring.

Now Neuvillette is internally questioning what exactly this ring means. Is it akin to a proposal? A vow? A promise ring for the future?

The longer he stays here the more insane he may be driven, he thinks.

“Sorry to cut my time here short, but I think I have to get going,” he spoke up. Both Clorinde and you looked over at him, and he figured this was a good idea—he doesn’t think he can handle another tea session where the two of you are happily talking as he sits there awkwardly quiet. “I’ll be off, now.”

“Already?” you frowned at him, and that expression almost makes him want to stay. But the sight of Clorinde still absentmindedly toying with your hand sends him into a spiral of emotions he needs to sort out. He’s already stood up to leave without realizing it.

“Unfortunately so,” he says. He might’ve sounded colder than he meant to. It was clear in your face you knew something was wrong, but didn’t want to say it out of privacy. But when he walked towards the door, hearing Clorinde continue your conversation on like normal, it was fruitless to even consider it.

He opened the door. It was raining.

It feels like he was losing your love before he could even have it.

STAGE III. — Redirecting.

Where pleasure is derived from hurting others, stemmed from unconscious feelings of envy. The envy can come in a so-called as a form of competitive implication.

The next time he saw you was around the market area in the morning, wandering the streets like a normal citizen on this wavering Wednesday.

Normally, he would have just smiled and waved at most, but this time, something compelled him to walk up and join you. “Is this where to find you on Wednesday mornings?” he asked curiously, catching your starling attention and watching as your lips curved to a smile when you recognized him.

“It is, Monsieur.” When you stepped ever-so closer to him, a mere basket around your arm being the only thing between you, he felt as if his feet had turned into bubbles, and there was a flutter of heaven around his shoulders. “My weekly groceries are scheduled for today, however I don’t recall ever seeing you on this side of the city, if that isn’t just my ignorance.”

He chuckled, “I’m usually at my office by this time, so you would be correct.” Then his arm slid against yours, taking the wooden basket out of your hands and walking a few steps forward down the market street you shopped at. “But I’m open to a change of pace, so might I join you on this lovely morning?”

The little smile of contentment you gave him when you answered “Of course” made his heart skip a beat. And when you walked forward to hook your arm around his free one, he swears to the sovereign he might simply dissolve right then and there. The closeness of your presence to him now makes his heart race in a way he feels it drumming in his chest, a feeling that is so human that it makes him almost taste the fruit of mortality. You, walking along with him as you hold onto his arm whilst he carries your grocery basket—you look like romantic partners, and he can’t help but feel sort of lightheaded at the mere thought of that.

“Ah, look!” you pointed, and Neuvillette allowed himself to be guided by the arm to a nearby vendor. “They’re selling slices of apricot pie.”

“You fancy these desserts as well?” he mused, already fishing his pockets for his wallet. “Perhaps we should purchase a slice or two and save them for our weekend tea session.”

You agreed, “I thought the same.” Then you noticed his shuffling and playfully waved off his hand, insisting he needn’t pay. “But I fear it might spoil by the time Saturday comes.”

“You want a bite of mine?” And that’s when Neuvillette wasn’t even surprised anymore to hear the voice of the Champion Duelist appearing out of nowhere. He has such horrible luck running into her, that he’s now just accepted it at this point ( or, for better words: he still has yet to accept the fact that maybe Clorinde was specifically seeking you ). She stood there, leaned against a pole with an easy-going expression and a fork in one of her hands, carrying an aluminum tin with the exact same apricot pie you were just eyeing.

You gasp at her appearance, “Sure!” Neuvillette doesn’t even have a moment to process the mere seconds it takes for you to slip away from his arm, leaving him to follow behind as you skip over to Clorinde. The uninvited guest takes it upon herself to feed you a bite with her fork—it was at this time that the Iudex began to feel like an outlier once again.

“We were actually about to buy a few slices ourselves,” Neuvillette piped in. He did it quickly, perhaps it was instinct so he wouldn’t be left out of the conversation again. “But an excellent point was brought up, that the dessert might spoil by the time we reach Saturday afternoon.”

“Why don’t you just buy one and eat it now?” Clorinde shrugged. Ah. Neuvillette internally scolded himself; He should’ve thought of that. And when you waved off her suggestion dismissively, claiming it was fine now that she let you try it, Neuvillette realized he completely missed an opportunity to have dessert with you on a Wednesday instead of a Saturday. That while he was still a man you only saw once at the end of each week, you’d be seeing Clorinde multiple times throughout it.

He wasn’t fond of the way Clorinde was still feeding you more bites of pie, either.

“Miss Clorinde,” he addressed. If only he had more of a grasp of human sociability, then he might’ve realized how firm his voice sounded in this situation that was… not so serious. “Shouldn’t you be alongside Furina at this time of day?”

“On a typical day, yes,” she answered simply. “And shouldn’t you be in your office?”

He almost glared. “No, actually, I’ve given myself the time to roam around today.”

“Oh wowww,” she teased, though Neuvillette might’ve heard it as something mocking. “Lady Furina would be pleased to hear that. Instead of being cooped up in your office or the Opera Epiclese all morning long, you’re out here at the market, even holding a basket for shopping.”

The Iudex cleared his throat. “Well, I’ll have you know that this basket isn’t mine.” There was an air of competitiveness in his voice, one that almost had him biting his tongue in surprise of himself. Because it was simply just as he said: a basket. But the fact it belonged to you, and the fact that he was carrying it for you—suddenly he wanted to boast it and show it off to the world, especially to Clorinde’s face. “The two of us are shopping together this morning, if you’ll excuse us.” His next move might’ve been bold, but the feeling of possessiveness was so airtight and he had no choice but to hook his own arm around yours once more, getting ready to turn and leave.

“So cold,” Clorinde rolled her eyes. ‘Cold’ was a word often used to describe him, but no, not here. He did not want to appear that way in front of you. “Is this really the attitude you want to spend all morning with?” she asked, this time directed at you.

Something in him snapped. There was an emotion that clouded his head far angrier than annoyance, and it sprouted from the way in which she made him look bad, like the stone-cold Chief Justice everyone thought him to be. Albeit with you, he was trying to be everything but that. Emotional, vulnerable, heartfelt, human—Clorinde was not going to take that away from him.

‘Is this really the attitude you want to spend all morning with?’ The question kept playing in his mind, as if she was any better than him? She, who most people also saw as stoic, should not be seen by you in a better light than him. She, who did not know your favorite desserts like he did, who did not make time for you like he did, who did not fancy you as much as he did—

He felt you tug at his arm, snapping him from his thoughts.

Your eyes held the same, worried look you gave him on Saturday when he left so abruptly. So jealously.

Neuvillette cleared his throat once more. “It seems you are correct, Miss Clorinde.” There was solemness in his voice. Yet he was so quiet as he unlocked his arm from around yours, and handed your basket to Clorinde. “My attitude proves to be too unfavorable for the likes of this lovely morning, I thank you for bringing it to my attention.” These emotions were too much right now; he was starting to fear them. “My deepest apologies to you both, I’ll be heading back to the Palais Mermonia now.”

He bowed his head as diplomatically as he could manage, but the skies were already darkening.

“I bid you both a fine rest of your morning.”

“Wait, Neuvillette!”

Your call was drowned by the deafening drums of his hammering heartbeat, and the patters of light rainfall from the somber sky.

STAGE IV. — Medea.

At this stage, the grip of envy appears almost irreversible. There is a hatred towards others that dominates their thinking, and happiness or success is no longer foreseen.

Saturday afternoon.

He couldn’t see you again, even if it was time for your weekly meeting, not when he was feeling like this.

Not when the sky was pouring from the mere thought of you, and how he’s probably already lost. It was inevitable for a man like him, and he should’ve realized so earlier. Three o’clock, and you were already probably sipping away with Clorinde at your side, pastries on the table and a dazzling ring on your finger. She was much more human than him, after all, and such a shortcoming became his eventual downfall.

The Palais Mermonia was quiet, though that might’ve been due to the endless rain that’s been pouring since Wednesday morning.

While it was nice, he couldn’t help but feel the silence only amplified his feeling of loneliness in this moment. Especially at this time: a time of the week in which he looked most forward to.

“Monsieur Neuvillette?” a Melusine knocked from right outside his door. “You have a visitor!”

And before he could even reply, that was when you ignored all formalities, all proper respect as you pushed your way through the door and into his office. The surge of panic he felt from your sudden presence was unrivaled to the way you made haste in getting seated in front of his office table, setting down your handful—said handful consisting of two teacups, and a bag of pastries.

His heart practically shattered. The familiar cups and bag of treats on the table, the way your hair and clothes were lightly damp from the rain—you made the effort, coming all the way here just to see him. Just so the both of you wouldn’t miss a single Saturday afternoon together.

“I believe you might’ve forgotten our schedule, good Monsieur.” A light scolding, yet partnered with the most comforting smile you’ve ever given him, and he starts to feel his hands tremble. “You seem surprised to see me,” you commented further, filling in the silence as he has yet to utter even a word. “Did you really think I’d just let you ditch me like that?”

It was hard to breathe, hard to find his voice when you were so patient with him. “Sorry.” It’s all he can mutter now, this blistering swell of emotions causing a waver in his voice. “I’m so, very sorry.”

“Don’t be,” you chuckled at him. His body tensed when you reached forward to grab one of his hands. But you felt cold just like the chilling rain outdoors, and now he worries you might catch a fever because of him. “I’ve been meaning to ask you what was wrong, but…” Your eyes drooped with a certain sorrow in their crevices, and Neuvillette found himself slightly squeezing your hands. “I couldn’t seem to find a good moment alone with you.”

He shook his head at you, whispering, “I don’t even know what’s wrong, myself…”

You frowned. This atmosphere was suffocating and just from one glance upwards at your face, Neuvillette could easily tell you were holding back something to say. Granted, it was his fault. He’s the one who’s here, sitting and sulking in his office with little to no explanation. He’s the one who’s kept you worried this past week from leaving so abruptly two different times now. If anything, he might understand how to be a human even less after this ordeal.

“Would you be so kind…” he starts, words like lumps in his throat, “to allow me to be honest? To let me ramble whatever nonsense I’m feeling for just a moment, so that maybe you can make some sense of it all?”

You gave his hands a comforting squeeze. “Of course.”

There’s a certain phrase caught dead in his tongue. And he’s never been afraid to speak his mind before, yet suddenly, your judgment of his feelings mattered much more than the truth of his words. But he was feeling so much, and if this was really the emotional baggage humans had to carry all the time, he could only wonder how most people have yet to burst from the hauntings of their own mind.

Or more accurately so—the hauntings of their own love.

These words were doomed to come spilling out. “You’ve bewildered me with mountains of emotions,” he rambles quicker than he thinks. “All from the sleight of your hand, I best believe I’ve fallen in love with you.”

He forces himself to ignore how your eyes widen in that moment, or how the grip from your hands suddenly loosens from the shock that rings through his confession. He doesn’t have a way with words, and he knows this. So in a hasty attempt to piece together a board of emotional exposure his mind cannot even comprehend, he does the only thing he knows how to: talk and talk, until he has no more truth to confess to you.

“But the feelings that came alongside my love,” he began to you, “are unexplainable.” As his voice ended in coarseness, there was such an hopeless look of utter confusion you had never seen on his face before, like he was silently pleading for you to help a poor soul like his own. “The beating of my heart when I see you… A stark contrast to the tightness in my stomach I feel… When Miss Clorinde joins us.” The ending of his sentence dropped to nearly a whisper, like he expected it to be sin. “But what I just don’t understand, is why,” the section of his brows furrow in distress, “because she’s my coworker, and I do not dislike her, but I feel as if I cannot stand her when she joins us…”

You listen quietly. He doesn’t know whether to be thankful or fearful whilst awaiting your reaction.

He continued, “But when she sat with us for tea, and bought you that ring, and joined us at the market…” This confession; It was arguably harder than confessing his love to you. Because Clorinde was your friend—maybe even closer, if he was so unlucky—and he might’ve crossed a line here he didn’t even know existed. “I felt like I hated her,” he finished.

You were still silent, though it wasn’t like he could see your expression anyways. He refused to even look up to it, choosing instead to stare down at your joined hands.

But this silence was deafening. Please, just reject him already. He let out the most exhausted sigh he has ever before, the weight of these human emotions bearing down on him. “So I was just…”

“Just jealous,” you finished for him, and he noticed in your voice how you were almost laughing quietly to yourself. The emotion you just named—he didn’t know how envy even felt like, much less jealousy ( though, he supposes he knows now ). “Neuvillette, you should’ve just told me you felt uncomfortable with Clorinde there.”

“Hm?” He was confused. So confused, that his eyes finally darted up to meet your own. And there you stood, most comforting of smiles on your face as your thumb began to trace patterns on the back of his hand.

You reassured him, “Those are times we spend together, dedicated to the both of our comforts.” Which was true, but he was ready to argue that he felt selfish that way—and that you wouldn’t love nor deserve a selfish man. “I trust you to tell me when you feel things are unfavorable,” you continued, “and I promise you, Clorinde would understand if I told her.”

“But,” he piped up, so much doubt in his eyes as if struggling to believe your words, “is she not important to you?” And now, he could not comprehend the bashfulness that raised blood to his cheeks, or the complete disbelief that you’d wave off the Champion Duelist just because of his silly discomfort. Human relationships; He feared he may never understand them.

“Of course she’s important to me—she’s my friend!” you lightly laughed. “But you’re important to me, as well. Please understand that.” His heart might’ve stopped for just a moment. “And when we have our scheduled times alone together, the last thing I want to have is you feeling uneasy when we’re supposed to be relaxing.” Your words, the kindness you shed—it was all so confusing yet so welcoming at the same time, that he feels it’s only a matter of seconds until he drowns from the sound of your voice. To feel such comfort in a person was bizarre to him, but it’s a feeling that makes him crave your presence all the same.

His eyes fell to another slight frown, voice quieter as if losing the will to argue. “But… I should not have the right to impede on a relationship significant to you…”

Now it was your turn to look baffled. The way he worded it. Oh, surely he didn’t— “Monsieur, do you think Clorinde and I are a couple?”

“Well, I certainly thought you two were getting to that state in your relationship,” Neuvillette answered truthfully, voice flowing without hesitation as if it was the most obvious fact in the world. The man who just confessed his love for you only moments ago was fully convinced you felt romance for another woman. “Hence why I was…” He turned his head to the side, shyly clearing his throat. “Envious…”

You practically burst out into giggles. In fact, one of your hands even let go of his grip just so you could cover your mouth to laugh. “Oh… Oh, Neuvillette, surely you jest!” you attempted to name whilst controlling your laughter. The Iudex was shell-shocked into pure silence, wondering what he could’ve possibly said to make you react this way, because as far as he knew, he was not making a joke. “Clorinde is only a friend to me,” you clarified. “Nothing more.”

He remains silent, but there’s a sweeping wave of new emotions that suddenly flood his shoulders.

“And if she sees me as anything more, then, well,” you continued, glancing up outside and then back down to meet his awaiting eyes. “Unfortunately for her, the love in my heart has already been captured by another.”

“By whom?” The lack of hesitation from his immediate question has more giggles escaping your lips. He looks at you, and your face tells him it’s an obvious question with an obvious answer, and yet he still cannot comprehend this even when you squeeze both his hands in yours once more.

“Who do you think, Monsieur?” And yet even after his face flushes red, he still has a focused look of anticipation on his face—it’s as if he absolutely will not believe it until you spell it directly to his face. “Neuvillette,” you sighed, but there was an air of gentleness in the way you say his name that relaxed his soul. “It’s always been you.”

The rain continued on.

But now the sun shined between each droplet, because if he could cry from happiness right now, he was sure you’d already be busy wiping his tears away. And this sunny rain continued on and on, even as he poured you tea, even when he bit into the pastries you bought, and even when he looked at you fondly across his desk, not a single doubt of your love.

And as for Clorinde, well, he might need a few more days to recover before he can forgive her for all the sporadic heart attacks she’s almost given him.

#neuvillette x reader #neuvillette imagines #neuvillette x you #genshin imagines #genshin x reader #neuvillette fluff #genshin x gender neutral reader #neuvillette

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wraithlafitte · 1 month

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even it up

pairing: dean winchester x f!reader

CONTENT: violence (hunting), graphic descriptions of injuries and repairing them, SMUT, unprotected piv, dean might have a pain kink (or a competency kink), praise (m!receiving), blowjob, riding, (reckless) choking, edging (m!receiving), begging, biting, overstimulation

word count: 4.7k

a/n: part 2 to bitchin'. sorry it took so long! i got busy with schoolwork, but the semester's almost up so we'll be back to our regularly scheduled programming soon. thanks for your patience!

Silence filled the rental car as you and Dean drove to the location you'd tracked the missing vampires to. You had woken up tangled together, naked, dried bodily fluids a stark reminder of how far you'd fallen. You hadn't said a word to him all morning, and even Dean was devoid of his usual quips. At least you seemed to agree: last night was a mistake, and shouldn't happen again.

You parked the car in an unmarked, cracked parking lot a few blocks away from the abandoned house. Dean was out the door before you pulled the key from the ignition, rushing to the trunk to grab his weapons. You sighed and went after him, slamming the door behind you.

You stopped to the side of the trunk. "Dean."

"What," came his gruff reply from under the trunk lid. The sparse weeds growing through the pavement were suddenly very interesting.

"We should talk-"

Dean slammed the lid of the trunk, causing you to jump, and tossed you a machete, which you caught easily despite being startled.

"Let's just get the job done," he said, his face hard and unyielding as he made eye contact with you.

You looked away quickly, avoiding his stony gaze. "Fine," you mumbled. Those weeds sure were growing. Kind of how Dean had started to grow on you... persistent, despite the unforgiving terrain.

Shaking your head, you fell into step behind Dean as he started walking down the uneven sidewalk.

Your hands were deft as you picked the lock of the back door to the old, peeling green house. All the windows were boarded up, so you had no idea what was waiting for you directly behind this door, but if there was one thing you could count on, it's that if something did charge you, Dean would chop its head off. Not necessarily because he wanted to save you, but because he liked killing monsters. And you had a feeling that he had some anger he might want to take out on something deserving.

The lock finally clicked and you pushed the door open cautiously. It opened into a dirty mudroom, scattered with shoes and coats of all sizes and styles. Your stomach turned as you realized they must have belonged to victims.

Dean noticed it too. "Let's go," he said grimly and pushed past you into the building, machete held high.

You picked up your own machete from the ground where you had set it to pick the lock and followed Dean. He was quick, peeking past corners before whipping around and advancing down the hallways, pressed flat against the wall. You were less... dramatic about your caution, choosing to let him clear the way.

Dean stopped suddenly and threw an arm back, stopping you in place. For a second, you were distracted by the way his hand pressed back against you, fingers almost curling around your shirt, touching but not quite. A breeze through a broken window sent a wave of his Old Spice scent in your direction that almost overtook you. Then you came to your senses and slapped his hand away.

You peered past him to see what it was. You had come across a bedroom, in which three vampires were snoring away unwittingly. You recognized them from the warehouse.

Dean looked back at you and nodded, creeping into the room. You each went to a side of the bed and made eye contact over the sleeping monsters in front of you.

One, Dean mouthed, raising his blade.

Two, and you followed suit.

Three, and both of you swung. The blood of two vampires splattered the white sheets, and the third leapt up immediately, fangs descending. She stood on the bed, ready to pounce on Dean, when you pulled her legs out from under her. The vamp fell to the mattress, where you unceremoniously chopped off its head.

"Nice move," Dean muttered, wiping his blade and already walking towards the door. "Let's clear the rest of the house."

You checked the remaining rooms on the ground floor, while Dean hurried upstairs. You found nothing in the dilapidated rooms except some mice and rotting wood floors.

A loud pounding and scuffling sounded on the ceiling above you, accompanied by the unmistakable sound of metal hitting the floor. You turned and ran up the stairs two at a time.

Dean was locked in hand-to-hand combat with a vamp on the landing, his machete lying some distance away. Blood trickled down his temple. The ornate bronze candlestick the vampire wielded had a matching red stain.

The vampire hooked his beefy arm around Dean's neck and slammed him face first into the wall, shattering the glass on a picture frame that hung there. You seized the opportunity of having his back to you and rushed up behind him, hacking at his neck. Only his neck was so thick and muscular that your blade barely went through a third of it.

The vamp dropped Dean on the ground and slowly turned on you, your machete still stuck in its neck. Your eyes darted to where Dean's machete had fallen, and you scrambled backwards to pick it up, almost tripping on a rug in the process, but successfully retrieving it anyway. You brandished in front of you as you got backed into a corner, your last line of defense.

It had the audacity to laugh at you. "You think that's gonna work?" he taunted, bearing down on you and shadowing you from the meager sunlight coming through a window in an adjacent room.

In your periphery, you saw Dean rising from the ground, eyes fixed on the weapon stuck in the vampire's neck. You suppressed the urge to glance at him fully as he crept up behind the monster. He took hold of the machete handle and yanked.

It was no good. The vamp whirled on him, socking him in the jaw. You saw your chance. Dean was down for the count and the vampire had its back turned again. You ran up and swung with all your might in the opposite direction. The vamp's head rolled.

Dean looked up at you from the ground where he had fallen, panting hard. “You’re welcome,” he breathed heavily.

“For what? I saved your ass,” you reminded him, holding out a hand to help him up.

“If I hadn’t distracted it, you wouldn’t have been able to get it,” he said while standing, obviously trying to repair his ego.

You rolled your eyes and dropped his hand roughly. “Oh please.” You started down the stairs to head back to the car.

“At least we got them all now,” Dean commented, stomping down the stairs behind you.

You ignored him all the way back to the car and all the way back to the hotel as he continued to try to convince you that you hadn’t done all the work.

The sun was setting by the time you got back to the hotel, all shades of red and orange that reminded you of the blood you had spilled today. It reflected off the Impala, parked in front of the side door of the hotel. And it bathed Dean in a warm golden light that bounced off his freckled skin and made him look like he was glowing.

Ew, what am I thinking, you scolded yourself. He's just sweaty. He's a gross, sweaty man who you hate and never want to be intimate with again. He doesn't look sexy at all right now.

You were brought back to earth as Dean winced heavily while hauling his bag out of your trunk to transfer it to his car. His hand went to his ribs, tenderly feeling around for cracks.

"You should come inside so I can check you out," you said without thinking.

Dean looked at you incredulously. "Yeah, I bet you'd love to check me out, but I gotta go."

You rolled your eyes, feeling a blush creep up your neck. "Not what I meant. You're obviously hurt, let me take a look. I can patch you up better than you can yourself."

He threw his bag into the trunk of the Impala and slammed it shut. "Fine. If you'll let me leave after."

You prepared your first aid kit while Dean stripped off his top layers. You could have just gotten what you needed as you went, but you were preparing yourself for seeing him shirtless again... in the same environment that you'd fucked in last night.

You turned around, heart rate picking up. You were just making yourself nervous more than anything. You'd seen him shirtless thousands of times before. It's fine, it's normal.

And there he was.

Half-naked.

Sweaty.

Groaning.

Dean sat down gingerly on the edge of the bed, trying to look down his side, where deep red bruises were already formed. They were accompanied by a gash on his chest, presumably where the vampire's claws had cut into his skin as it tossed him around.

You kneeled in front of him and began examining his ribs, making sure to be gentle as you ran your fingers over each bone. Goosebumps rose on his flesh in the path of your hands. "Well, good news, nothing's broken."

Dean gave a pained sort of grimace-smile. "Great. So I can leave." He made to get up off the bed, but you held down his thighs.

"Not so fast," you said. "Let me fix up that cut."

"It's fine, really, I can do it myself," he protested. He met your determined gaze and slumped back.

"Fine. Make it quick."

You poured some antiseptic on a gauze pad. "This is gonna sting."

"I know, sweetheart, this ain't my first rodeo," Dean griped.

You gave him an expressionless look like I-am-so-done-with-you and pressed the soaked gauze to the cut. Dean hissed through his teeth, fingers tightening into the blanket beneath him. You wiped away the blood and the grime, revealing how deep the cut was.

"I'm gonna have to close this up," you told him. "It's deeper than I thought." You begin rummaging through the first-aid kit for the suture needle you knew was around somewhere. A hunter's first-aid kit was a little more elaborate than most.

You carefully threaded the needle, tongue poking through your lips, then looked up at him. "Ready?"

Dean's expression hardened and he grabbed the t-shirt he had been wearing, wadded up one end, and shoved it in his mouth.

Your brow furrowed in concentration as you wove the needle through his delicate skin, meticulously joining the two sides. You worked as quickly and as steadily as you could, painstakingly making sure to sew him up in a way that wouldn't scar too much. Dean did his best to keep quiet, occasionally grunting in pain, his face scrunching up around the shirt in his mouth.

You reached the end of the cut and adeptly tied off the thread, snipping the loose end off. Dean spat the chunk of t-shirt out of his mouth and tossed it to the side.

You made eye contact for a moment as you covered the wound site with a bandage, then Dean shifted his eyes to the side. "Thanks," he said after a minute.

"You sure you want to go? Why don't you rest one more night before getting on the road?" you asked softly, placing your hand on his knee soothingly. His leg twitched under your hand.

"I should go...." Dean protested half-heartedly, not making any move to get up. Did he want to stay?

"Got somewhere to be, Winchester?" you teased. Testing your theory, you rubbed his thigh a couple times. His eyes fluttered half-closed and he looked at you darkly through his lashes.

"Don't," he murmured, uncharacteristically non-combative. His hand crept around your wrist, holding your hand on his leg.

You looked up at him from your place between his legs. "You say one thing, but do another," you said softly. "What do you want, Dean?"

Dean bit his lip and let go of your hand, clasping his together in his lap and dropping his gaze to them. You waited a beat, then grabbed his hands, pulling them to your chest.

"Look at me, Dean," you commanded. His eyes flew up in surprise. "Tell me what you want."

His expression changed from surprised to irritated to aroused. He grabbed you by the shoulders.

"You."

You grinned and stood up to clamber onto him, leaning down to capture his lips in a kiss, Dean's hands ghosting across your back and legs, helping you into his lap. You wrapped your arms around his neck, holding him as close as possible as you made out and rolled your hips down onto his hardening cock.

Dean groaned and broke away. "Let me fuck you," he rasped, pupils blown.

A lovely mischievous idea occurred to you. You pouted. "You'll hurt yourself. Let me take care of you." You slid off his lap onto the floor and turned away, pulling your own shirt over your head. "Get comfortable on the bed."

In the fake gold plated mirror on the wall, you saw Dean look you up and down hungrily. Then he quickly stripped the rest of his clothes off and sat against the headboard. You slowly lowered your jeans, then your panties, being as teasing as possible, knowing he was watching.

"Come here," he barked finally. You turned to face him, bra still covering your breasts.

"So demanding," you breathed, but went to him anyway. You sat down on his thighs and looped your arms around his neck again, pulling him in for a kiss, which he swerved in favor of mouthing kisses into your neck and jaw. You moaned a little as he paid attention to a sensitive vein. Your hips almost involuntarily rolled forward, meeting his lower stomach.

His hands, which had just been resting on your thighs, squeezed harshly into the supple flesh of your hips. You yelped as he dug his fingers into the bruises he had left the day before.

"You said you would take care of me," Dean said snarkily, staring pointedly at his cock between you. You smirked and wrapped your hand around its base, admiring the reddening tip. You slowly squeezed your hand up from the base to the tip, and were rewarded with a thick drop of precum leaking out and dripping down the side. Dean huffed, a dark flush spreading across his neck and chest.

You scooted down his legs until your face was level with his crotch. Making teasing eye contact with him, you slowly stuck out your tongue and licked his cock from his balls up, flicking off the tip. Dean growled, his skin and gaze fiery.

"Quit'cher teasing," he slurred, tilting his head back to knock against the headboard.

You found significant pleasure in weakening him, and although you'd have liked to keep teasing him, you wanted to make him come undone. So you took his cock into your mouth, sucking gently on the fat head, savoring the salty taste of him.

"Fuck," Dean whispered, head still back, eyes closed. You swirled your tongue around a few times, then started lowering your head, taking him further and further into your mouth. He reached for your head but you caught his hand and held it down to the bed.

You raised your head, letting his cock fall from your mouth, a string of drool still connecting the two. "Trust me," you said, raising your eyebrow.

"I don't trust you as far as I can throw you," he groaned.

"Don't make me tie you down," you warned. "I will."

"I'd like to see you try- ngh!" You squeezed the base of his cock tightly and watched as it turned red and Dean squirmed beneath you, mouth agape and panting. He truly was a beautiful, lewd sight.

"Mind your stitches," you reminded him gently. "Lie still." You loosened your hold on his cock and began sliding your hand along it languidly.

Dean visibly relaxed, eyes fluttering open. You lowered your mouth back onto his cock, taking him all the way to the back of your throat and swallowing around him. Your eyes watered and stung, but the groan he let out was worth it. You repeated the process a couple more times, then pulled off and looked up at him. He regarded you darkly and lustfully as you grabbed his hand and brought it to the side of your face, allowing him to lace his fingers through your hair and grab a handful.

A handhold.

You nodded slightly and dropped your jaw, mouth waiting above his heavy cock. Dean's mouth slowly grew into a grin.

"Want me to fuck your face, huh? Guess that's one way you can help me out." He shoved your head down onto him. You gagged as his tip hit the back of your throat. "Fucking slut, letting a guy fuck your mouth just 'cuz you feel sorry for him." He began bobbing your head up and down. His grip on your hair made your scalp tingle.

You made a little moan of protest. It turned into the most obscene gurgling, gagging sound as he continued to use you like a human fleshlight.

You gripped his wrist and tugged his hand out of your hair so you could pull off of his cock. You looked at him through narrowed eyes. "I will stop."

"Yeah, right," Dean scoffed, out of breath. "You practically threw yourself on me."

You smirked, moving up to straddle him, and pinned his hand to the headboard. "I think you'll find that, both times, it was the other way around."

Before Dean knew what was happening, you ambushed him with a handcuff snapping around his wrist, the other side looped haphazardly on the bedpost. It didn't matter that it wasn't secure. He didn't have enough leverage to lift it over the tall post and free himself.

While he snarled, distracted, you trapped his other wrist in the same way. You smiled down at him sweetly when his angry face turned to you.

"I did warn you," you said, grinding down on his lap. "But I guess I should've known better than to give you any control. It was always going to come to this, wasn't it?"

"You bitch," Dean said through gritted teeth, straining forward against his restraints.

You leaned forward and pressed your lips to his neck, his jaw, his earlobe. "Just say the word if it's too much."

You felt him relax underneath you, then he nipped at your ear. "How weak do you think I am? Do your worst," he sneered.

You rose above him, triumphant. "Oh, I will, baby." You ground your wet core against his cock, still slick with your spit. He ground his teeth more, trying not to react. You threaded your fingers through his hair and tugged gently.

And oh, how beautiful it was that he let his head loll back, giving himself into your control, eyes fluttering shut. Then he seemed to snap to his senses and he opened his eyes, muttering, "Just ride me already."

"Patience," you whispered, and began kissing him. You kissed down his neck, across his chest (avoiding the stitches), down his stomach through the soft hairs that led back down to his pretty cock, laying on his stomach and leaving droplets of precum like dew in the hairs.

You blew softly across his length as you considered the best way to make him unravel for you. He let out a low groan, quiet and strained. You smiled to yourself and lowered your mouth back onto his cock, running your tongue lightly along the thick vein that ran up its underside, tracing the life-force that pulsated beneath his skin. He huffed softly in quick succession.

"Breathe," you murmured against his dick, and licked the tip gently, slo-o-owly. Dean made a pretty noise that was halfway a grunt and halfway a breathy sigh, and your pussy fluttered between your legs.

You clambered back up his body, your knees framing his waist as you hovered over him. His eyes were completely clouded by lust, an eager expression taking over his face. You took hold of his cock and lined it up with your body. His breath hitched in anticipation.

You cocked your head, smiling. "What do you say?"

Dean scowled. "Fuck you, I'm not begging."

"Oh, but you already have, Dean." You stroke his cock gently where it waits between your legs. "What's one more word?"

His eyes threatened to close against his will. He gritted his teeth, opened his mouth, closed it, sighed, and spoke. "Please," he whispered.

"Good boy," you praised, sinking down onto his cock slowly. You moaned loudly as you felt him fill you up again. It almost felt better now that you were taking your time with him. Dean moaned softly, arms finally relaxing in his bonds.

Your head dipped down and you kissed him. His mouth was soft and pliant against yours, not fighting, not working to dominate, and you had the fleeting thought that you had tamed him. You didn't know how, but in this moment, he was completely submissive. And you liked it.

You raised yourself up and drew off his cock until just the head remained inside, then slid back down slowly, like you had at first. Dean leaned forward, held back somewhat by the cuffs, to suck and press kisses to your breasts. You ground down on him, pressing his cock as far in as it would go until it ached, and your chest vibrated with Dean's responding groan.

"Please move," he begged hoarsely, hips twitching underneath you.

"Since you asked nicely," you breathed. You began rolling your hips against his steadily, watching as his pleasure flickered through his rugged features. It was a stark contrast to last night, when he had been scowling and making quips the entire time as he fucked you into the mattress. This was almost... loving. Or perhaps you were simply providing him a service. You did agree to take care of him, and maybe that's what he needed.

You reached up and unclasped the handcuff on Dean's left hand, somehow trusting that he would not go anywhere. His eyes flew open and his hand was on you like it was a magnet and your hip was the opposite charge. His hand massaged into the flesh of your hip, making a dull ache arise from the bruises of the previous night.

You looked into his eyes as both your moans filled the air. They were wide and asking, and since his hand was gentle on your body, and he had been on such good behavior, you released his other hand as well.

It was like a switch flipped. His right hand darted to your waist and dug in, the hand on your hip tightening as well as he took control of your movement. You yelped and he began pushing you faster, your thighs screaming with effort as you tried to regain control.

"Dean," you gasped, clawing at his shoulders.

He grinned, slamming your hips down on him until you were forced to fall against his shoulder. "You were too slow," he gasped between heavy breaths, the wind rushing from his lungs each time your hips met his.

You managed to push yourself back up, bracing your forearm against his throat. His gasps turned ragged as you cut off his air. His thrusts slowed as you regained control of him.

"Be good," you said harshly, catching your breath and narrowing your gaze. "Only good boys get what they want." Dean scowled as he realized you were parroting his words from the night before.

"Fuck you," he spat hoarsely, voice barely audible from the pressure on his vocal cords. You cocked an eyebrow and leaned a little heavier on his throat. His cock twitched inside you.

Letting up on his throat just enough that he could breathe, you picked yourself up and began fucking yourself on his cock again, this time fully in control as his hands just clutched at your hips. You swear he went bug-eyed at the renewed friction combined with his light-headedness.

You felt pressure build in your core as you watched Dean's face, red and straining, mouth hanging open as he gasped in a desperate bid for a full breath. All that came from his mouth were raspy moans and heaves. He seemed determined not to beg still. You supposed he had been faking before. That wouldn't do.

"Tell me when you're close, baby," you purred in his ear as you began rubbing your clit, the sensation causing you to clench around him tightly. You readjusted the arm on his throat so he could speak.

"I'm close," you continued. "If I come on your cock, can you take it? Or will it be too much?" You pouted in mock pity. Dean was barely listening, eyes rolled back in his head, mouth moving in something that might have been words, if he wasn't so pussy-drunk and oxygen-deprived.

The look on his face finally pushed you over the edge, and you fell on his mouth hungrily as your pussy spasmed around him, eating up his desperate whines and moans as they fell from his lips.

You didn't stop your pace, overstimulating yourself and building another orgasm while Dean... finally broke.

"Please," he gasped hoarsely into your mouth, teeth clashing against yours as he jerked forward, drawn towards you, needing to be closer and closer and closer. "I'm so close."

You smirked down at him and slowed drastically. He was going to feel everything you were subjected to last night. He whined and buried his face in your chest, hips wiggling in an attempt to thrust into you again. "What do you say?"

"I just did," he growled, scraping his teeth over your skin.

"You didn't," you said cheerily. "You know what you need to tell me."

He let out a drawn-out groan followed by what could be considered somewhat of a sob. "Fuck."

"That's not it," you chastised.

Dean gritted his teeth and looked up at you, meeting your gaze. But he couldn't hold it. "I need to come," he whispered, eyes dropping. "Please make me come."

You resumed your last pace, touching yourself and clenching down on him as your body reacted to the feelings. Dean let out a broken moan as you leaned on his throat again. "Fuck- fuck-" he gasped against your skin, more his mouth just forming the words than speaking, hot and wet and open. His entire body tensed and he stopped breathing for just a moment-

And then he came inside you, shuddering and digging his nails into your hips so tightly you thought you might bleed. You didn't slow until you were following him, wringing every drop from his spent cock as he begged you to slow down in half-human sounds. You didn't slow until you were overstimulating yourself too, and he was straining against your arm, all but crying as his face contorted, all gritted teeth and tense muscles and red cheeks.

At last, you seated yourself fully on him and just stayed there, finally un-obstructing his airway. Dean's hands fell limply to your sides as his chest heaved, panting heavily and looking at you with a glazed expression as his cock jerked weakly inside you.

You made a quick scan of his injuries. Nothing had burst or ripped. He was catching his breath. Satisfied that he was physically okay, you smirked down at him.

"Now we're even," you told him slyly, dragging yourself off of him and laying down beside him.

"Fuck you," he croaked.

You smiled and nipped at his jaw. "Think you better just stay the night, wouldn't want you to drive like this."

Dean hesitated, then decided to take the bait. "Like what?"

"All weak and worn out," you said sympathetically. "Driving tired from a good fucking is the same as driving drunk, you know."

He let out a sharp chuckle. "I don't think that's how the saying goes."

"Really?" you asked sweetly, propping yourself on one elbow to look at him. "Could've sworn it was something like that...." You pretended to think.

"I'll stay," Dean sighed, snaking his arm around you and pulling you into his side. "If you promise we can do this again before checkout."

"I don't know," you said. "We might sleep too long. We might have to take it out to the car."

Dean shivered at the thought of fucking you in his Impala. "I guess that wouldn't be so bad."

#supernatural fanfiction #spn fanfic #spn smut #spn fanfiction #supernatural smut #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester smut #dean winchester #supernatural #spn #userwraith

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florencemtrash · 4 months

Text

The Shadowsinger & The Inkbird: Chapter Thirteen

Azriel x Day Court Librarian Reader

Summary: Y/n's clairvoyance is a gift from the Mother, but it feels more like a curse. With the power to gain knowledge through touch alone, Y/n holes herself up in The Alcove and hopes her powers and parentage will remain a secret. But things will change after the Summer Solstice ball and a chance encounter with a certain Shadowsinger.

Warnings: Canon typical violence. A walk through Velaris turns for the worse and the secrets of The Book are finally revealed...

The Shadowsinger & The Inkbird: Masterlist

Masterlist of Masterlists

It would seem I was wrong. It does not take much for Bethsevah Mordeigh to turn.

I should be ashamed, but the more often Thanatos keeps coming back, the more I come to like him. Make no mistake, he’s as dangerous and volatile as a starving animal, but compared to his siblings he’s a saint.

I saw him kill a male yesterday. One who stumbled upon our hidden ceremony and threatened to come back with Koschei’s army and crush us and the Mother beneath his boot.

But with a snap of Thanatos’s fingers the nameless fae was gone. Gone in a gust of red wind that smelled and tasted like metal. And Thanatos looked stronger for it. His pale skin stopped being so translucent. His hair looked a touch darker, so dark it swallowed all light. A piece cut away from the fabric of the world.

Death is his food. Him and his siblings feed on it and crave it like nothing else.

Except for me.

Thanatos says he craves me. And I think I believe him. I think I’m beginning to crave him too.

Gwyn froze when the mountain’s door slid back. Azriel stood outside Cagniv Library with a bouquet of salt-white water lilies clutched in one hand and pale blue tulips in the other.

“Azriel,” you smiled brightly, the last word you’d meant to speak to Gwyn dying on your lips. “What’re you doing here?”

The midday sun beat down on the face of the mountain, shortening the shadows around your feet.

“I was coming from the House of Wind and was hoping you’d take a long walk home with me. These are for you.” He held out the tulips. “And for you.” He held out the lilies for Gwyn, which she accepted after a brief moment of hesitance.

Azriel looked… lighter. His shadows were stronger than ever, clinging to his body like a second scent, but his eyes held a fondness and love for you that Gwyn had never seen before. Not when he was looking at Mor, not when he was looking at Elain… not when he was looking at her. It was so obvious to Gwyn’s eyes, she was amazed you hadn’t caught on yet. You just looked at the flowers with a touch of color flooding your cheeks. Bashful and uncertain of how to accept such a gift.

“Thank you.” You touched the velvety petals between your fingers as though they might crumble if you weren’t gentle.

“Yes. Thank you.”

Azriel looked at Gwyn, that small smile of his faltering and then growing once more when Gwyn nodded her head. It was a silent acknowledgement. A quiet understanding that didn’t completely escape your notice.

I’m not happy with you. Gwyn’s eyes spoke. But I understand. Her teal eyes flashed protectively. Don’t fuck this up.

“I assume I’ll be seeing you tomorrow?” Gwyn smirked at you and nudged her shoulder with your own, feeling the soft give of her skin and the strength in her arms.

“Where else would I be?”

“At home. Sleeping.”

“Pffft. Sleep is for the weak.”

“Careful. You’re starting to sound like Az. Now shoo.” Gwyn waved you off, watching as you took the arm that Azriel offered and made your way down the smooth steps of the mountain back to the city.

You bowed your heads together, lips barely moving and cutting out two dark silhouettes in the air. Azriel must have said something funny because your gentle laugh carried itself on the wind, weaving into the air like silver thread. Gwyn couldn’t help but smile at you.

If she knew what was about to happen, she would have never let you leave the library.

“They’re in love.”

Azriel looked sideways at you, catching the sweet scent of your hair as you leaned against him. The Palace of Hoof and Leaf buzzed with quiet energy, the air tinged with the scent of sugar from the confectionary booths.

“Who?”

“Beth and Thanatos.”

The book rocked against your hip, matching the beat of you and Azriel’s steps as you walked through the cobblestone marketplace. Lanterns hung unlit from the arches above, bobbing on wire like the bubbles that a pair of hawk-winged children were blowing from the steps of a peach-stone apartment. The girl, blue-eyed and red-haired, nudged the boy, pointing at the Shadowsinger with something like awe. Azriel offered them a faint smile and a few tendrils of his shadows licked at their feet as they scampered away with laughter. It was just a game to them after all.

“I didn’t think he was capable of love,” Azriel noted. He thought back to the memories you’d unearthed with your powers and of the violent ways Thanatos had inched his way into Beth’s life. Wherever he lingered, death followed. But so far as you knew, he was also incredibly protective of Beth and the other priestesses. They’d benefited from his presence even if they were unnerved by it. He’d kept them hidden from Koschei.

“Beth didn’t think so either.” You flinched when one of the marketplace hawkers held his hand out to you. He didn’t shout like the others and seemed grieved when you stepped back into the folds of Azriel’s wings. He opened his sticky fist palm up to the sky revealing a handful of neat caramel candies wrapped in wax paper.

“For the miss.”

Y/n looked at Azriel, who only nodded with a smile.

“Thank you.” You gingerly took them from him, taking a moment to admire the light brown of the confectioner’s eyes, like burnt sugar, and the wisps of candy floss clinging to his shirt like loose threads.

He didn’t resume his shouting until you were a good distance away, deep voice bellowing out over the square that his wares were made fresh that morning. You unwrapped one of the candies and stuck it in your mouth, sighing as it turned around on your tongue, slowly melting. Azriel took one of the candies you offered, but tucked it into his pocket when you turned your head to inspect the baskets of spices laid out on the sidewall.

“But he keeps staying with her. Keeps warning her of Koschei’s movements so she and her fellow priestesses can stay hidden. He… he cares for her. Or at least Beth seems to think so. The information — the story — is more pleasant than I could have hoped for, and I’m eternally grateful she doesn’t go in depth about their activities—”

Azriel chuckled. “So it’s not like one of Nesta’s books.”

“Thank the Mother no. But it doesn’t get us any closer to finding out how to defeat Koschei. She doesn’t even talk about Koschei or the priestesses much. Only Thanatos. It’s just a love story.”

“Love stories are never just that though. They’re probably the most powerful things in the universe. Look at Rhysand and Feyre. Cassian and Nesta. I don’t think we’d be where we are now if not for their love for one another. The things they were willing to do to protect what they cared about.”

“Do you ever wish you had that?” You dared to ask. “That kind of love? A mate?” Azriel turned to look at you, eyes filled with more cryptic meaning than you could ever imagine unraveling. There was hope, longing, grief, and a slew of other emotions. Their weight seemed to press in on you, but you didn’t feel overwhelmed.

“All the time,” he whispered. Then he smiled, staring down at where your arm was linked to his. “Do you?”

You turned away almost bitterly. “I don’t know what I’d do with that kind of love. If I’d be able to handle it. It might be too much for me.”

“I would disagree.”

You couldn’t find the words to respond, so you settled on silence. Luckily for you, silence with Azriel never felt uncomfortable.

“If your shadows keep taking them, I’m going to forget how many I’ve selected.”

“I see no problem with this,” Azriel shrugged and continued to follow you around the bookshop. It had stuck out to you immediately on your long walk back to the River House. A squat, two-story townhouse with charmingly chipped white paint laid over sturdy brick and sage green shutters. Candles winked in the afternoon light pressed up against window sills where two fat ginger cats lay purring in the sun. The dark, woodsy interior dripped with books, leather notebooks, and automatic writing pens that hovered over thick pages like butterflies. “We have space in the house.”

“It’s less about space and more about how much I’ve spent.” Your fingers brushed the next book on the shelf and its deep purple binding.

Oh that one’s interesting — a romance between a Spring Court nymph and a Dundarian knife maker filled with adventure, lust, longing, and found family.

You’d no sooner plucked it from the shelf before shadows crowded your hands, whisking it off to whatever ether Azriel kept them hidden in. He wrote the name of the book on a sheaf of paper, his handwriting neat and simple.

You turned on him, arms folded over your chest. “You can’t keep doing that.”

“You are not to spend a copper of your own money here. Rhysand and Feyre’s orders. Just put it on the House’s credit. Rhysand’s already added you.”

“They put me on their credit?” You balked even thinking about the money you’d been given access to.

Azriel nodded. “Consider it repayment.”

“Repayment for what? I haven’t done anything.”

Azriel looked at you quietly, as if the answer were obvious. “You’re the reason I still have a sister-in-law and a niece. You’re the reason we now have a name to investigate and are one step closer to defeating Koschei. You’re the reason the Godswoods and the Gallows haven’t been stolen from yet and a number of Librarians still have their lives. Do I need to continue?”

You thought through what he said. It was true that Helion’s intervention in the Godswoods and the Gallows had been effective. No deaths had been reported since then, but it didn’t make you feel any safer. A snake was still a snake, even when camouflaged.

“Only two of those things matter to the Night Court. Helion owes me for the latter.”

“Then you can have him contact the banks and transfer the sums.” Azriel’s eyes twinkled with mischie. You went to snatch the paper out of his hands, but all he had to do was raise his arm to the ceiling, a smile tugging at his lips. You jumped up, one hand firm on his shoulder for leverage, but it was no use. He was too damned tall.

You stood on the tips of your toes to get closer to eye level with Azriel. His eyes flickered down to your lips, the shapes they made as you quietly said, “Thank you.”

You lingered in the stacks for a few moments longer, nervously asked the shop owner to put the list of books on the High Lord and High Lady’s tab — which she did with a warm smile — and then made your way back outside. The bell hanging above the doorway jingled happily, the wood burned sign saying Come back soon! Love, Jessebell.

You trailed ahead of him down the street. Every sign, every shop window display, every street sign — you drank them in like you were ravenous.

Azriel felt Rhys’s presence drift in the outskirts of his mind, and without hesitation, he let him in.

Where are you? What’s taking so long?

Nearly to the Sidra. I brought her to Jessebell’s.

That explains your lateness. Rhys paused. She must have loved that.

Azriel smiled inwardly. She did. She really did.

A female with weathered, dark skin and flowers sprouting from her ears stopped you on the street and although your first instinct was to recoil, you relaxed when she only lifted up a deep black tulip in her textured hands. The wilting flower straightened up when you kissed one of the petals as instructed and the gentle laugh that followed had Azriel’s heart soaring.

Well make sure you get here in time for dinner. I want as many of our family members under my roof as possible.

Is this an ask, or a command?

Don’t make me use my High Lord voice on you.

Azriel rolled his eyes with a smile. I am absolutely trembling. Do you use that tone of voice on Nyx?

He felt as much as heard Rhys’s laughter. Enjoy your time with Y/n, but come back soon. Mor is looking to get her hands on your mate. Mother help us all.

Rhys cut the connection and Azriel was free to admire you once more.

You cradled the bouquet he’d given you in your arms, light reflecting off the petals and casting a faint blue glow on your face as you chatted with the florist. Your smile, which had started out forced and nervous, was slipping into something more relaxed. When the female laughed merrily and touched your wrist, you didn’t flinch.

Dark tendrils of night curled around his ears and Azriel felt a shiver trail down his spine.

Behind you. His shadows whispered. The boy needs help. There’s something wrong with him.

The boy startled back when Azriel turned towards him, tripping over a nick in the cobblestones and landing with a wince on his palms. Glassy pale eyes stared up, wide and terrified. His clothes were rumpled and unkempt and his white-blond hair was a mess of curls flecked with grey, like he’d been rolling around in dust. Pale pink and blue veins rose to the surface of his green-tinged skin, sickly and unnerving. He looked like a corpse on puppet strings.

Azriel looked around, but no one was searching for the little boy. No yelps belonging to scared parents. No calls from a sibling.

“Shadowsinger, sir?” Even his voice sounded sickly, like his vocal chords were disintegrating in his throat.

Azriel immediately dropped to his knees and slid his hands behind his back. “What’s happened, little one? What’s wrong?” His voice was smooth and gentle.

He was too busy thinking that his boy was younger than Nyx, too busy ordering his shadows out to search for the boy’s parents that he didn’t think twice about the lingering stench of blood clinging to the boy’s shoes or the faint pain beginning to grow behind his hazel eyes.

The boy looked around furtively while wringing his grubby hands, and then leaned close to whisper in Azriel’s ear. His pale eyes narrowed in concentration.

“It’s beautiful. I’ve never seen a black tulip before.”

“It’s a little secret of mine. You need to get the seed and soil just right.” The female brushed her waist length hair over her shoulder. The knotted strands had the thick, coarse texture of seafarer’s rope, as aged and wise as the rest of her. When you held the flower back out for her to take she shook her head.

“For you, my dear. I have dozens more and I think it would attract more business if you wore it around today. A beautiful creature like you must get lots of attention.”

You knew she was probably just saying these things to get your business, but you couldn’t help the spark of joy the compliments gave you. She helped tuck the flower into the braids of your hair and you felt the petals kiss the tips of your left ear.

“Say.” The female leaned in like she was about to share a secret. “If you aren’t already taken, I have a niece who’d love to have a pretty girl like you on her arm.”

Your blush deepened and you found yourself stammering, “That’s very kind, but I don't-I don’t-'' You glanced up the street. Azriel was kneeling on the ground, head bent down to a small child. You only caught the wisps of white, candy floss hair over Azriel’s broad shoulders.

The female traced the path of your gaze and sighed. “Ahhhhh. I see.” There was a triumphant look in her eyes, even as she said, “Shame. But I’ll still give you my niece’s name if you don’t mind.”

Your eyes snapped away from Azriel’s and you smiled in embarrassment. “Oh, we’re not—”

“Henna.”

You stepped back. Panic froze the blood in your veins and you felt pinpricks traveling up your body, stabbing your heart and your mind. You could see her now. Her silver hair fanned out around her. Her broken body. Her bloodied eye socket, dark and empty.

“I’m sorry. What did you say?” You had to have heard her incorrectly. Your head was pounding but you pushed back on your mental wards, shoring up your defenses until the feeling passed.

The female tilted her head to the side. Her eyes were as milky and glassy as pearls. “Does the name mean anything to you, dear?”

You took another step back and the female stepped forward. Her eyes seemed to clear then and her brows furrowed in concentration and pain. She lunged forward, tearing away at your clothes and knocking the flowers of your hands as she begged. “Help me. The boy. He’s inside—HELP ME!”

You surged back, crumpling to the ground under her heavy weight as she continued to pull and claw.

She’d been restocking the back room when the dirty little boy and the tailor showed up in the alleyway. He still carried that bolt of fabric under the crook of his arm. He took out a knife, orange eyes flashing and slit his throat from ear to ear while the little boy watched. Smiling.

“LET GO!” You kicked out, ramming your knee up and into the soft flesh of her stomach like you’d seen Emerie do to Cassian, but you lacked her strength and technique. The female wheezed but didn’t let go, even as others came to try and pry her off of you. Their voices were frantic, trying to calm you down, but they were the voices and hands of strangers.

“AZ!” You screamed, feeling the female sink her nails into your arm.

There was an ugly tearing sound and the cool touch of wind at your chest. Your robes were ripped apart under her rough hands and her eyes narrowed in on your belt and the chain that connected to the book. She bucked off a cherub-faced female with a blow to her nose and blood splashed over your cheek.

“Help me. Please. Oh… oh gods.” She grabbed at the book, but the chain glowed iron hot in her hands. The smell of burning scorched your nose as the magic did what it was meant to do. Nothing could break that chain. Not unless you willed it. Not while you were still alive.

“Oh gods. Oh gods help me. I’m so sorry.” There were tears streaming down her face, tracing the canyons and valleys of her skin. She threw off the fae clamoring around you both and ran with jerky, uncoordinated leaps back into her flower shop. She snatched the gardening shears off the windowsill where she’d been trimming her hydrangea bushes. She wept and shook her head, mouth struggling to open and scream as she held the shears up high and then drove them into her neck.

The scene took a long time to filter through the haze of panic and disbelief.

“Az… Az… Az—AZRIEL!” Your shrill scream pierced through the air. You scrambled away from everyone. Stones shaved away the skin of your knees, your palms. The tattered silk of your robes trailed behind you. “Don’t touch me!” You shrieked at the male who tried grabbing your arm, soft voice whispering.

He wasn’t the one you wanted.

“AZRIEL!”

The female dropped to her knees, hands clutching her throat as blood poured out in bubbly, gurgling spurts. The candy pink strips of her apron turned a wet, sticky black as she crawled back towards the door.

“Oh gods… Please,” she wheezed, wet and agonized, before collapsing face down on the floor. Motionless.

You staggered to your feet twisting away from everyone crowding around you.

“Don’t touch me. Don’t!”

“Miss you must sit. Please—”

“Let me help—”

“Are you hurt? What’s—”

“Don’t touch me. Please don’t touch me. Don’t touch me!”

Screams. The sound of doors slamming shut. Locks turning. Commanding barks calling for a healer. Calling for the High Lord and the High Lady. Calling for the Shadowsinger to help.

Azriel was still kneeling in front of that boy and no matter how many times you called his name and pushed through the crowd of people now rushing up and down the streets in a frenzy, he didn’t get up. He didn’t look at you. You may as well have not existed.

You finally reached him, narrowly missing being run over by a satyr who seemed to have gotten the wrong impression about which direction to sprint in. Every clip clop of his hooves shot through you.

“Az.”

Why hadn’t… Why hadn’t he helped you?

“Az.”

Why hadn’t he come when you called?

The Shadowsinger rose. One hand grabbed the hilt of Truth Teller and the malicious blade sang as it was unleashed. The shadows that normally hovered about him like mist were gone. They were all around you now, tugging you in the opposite direction towards the Sidra. They pleaded for you to run, but you couldn’t understand them.

Something was deeply, deeply wrong.

“Az.” You begged and grabbed hold of his hand. “Please. You’re scaring me.”

Truth Teller shot out and pain radiated up your arm as the blade cut neatly through your clothes and sliced open your skin. You tripped backward, landing with a thud on the street that rattled your bones. Your sleeve turned dark with blood.

You whimpered, holding your ruined arm up to your chest. There was no feeling in Azriel’s eyes. No flicker of recognition. None of that warmth and kindness you were so accustomed to. Just a menacing, silent form towering over you and blocking out the sun.

A pale boy stood by Azriel’s side with ice chip eyes and rectangular pupils. He grinned brightly and the stretch of his waxy cheeks was too tight. Too forced. He shouldn’t have been alive. He-he—

Andrian.

You’d seen him in Henna’s memory. You’d heard the snap of his neck beneath Koschei’s hands. Even now the boy was bent awkwardly, his head left in a perpetual tilt that should have looked charming and inquisitive but instead made you want to retch.

Andrian smiled at you then plastered a practiced look of horror on his face before running away with tears streaming down his cheeks, shouting for his mother. A burly male grabbed his shoulders, alarm on his face as he hoisted Andrian into his arms and disappeared into the crowd. Because who wouldn’t stoop down to help a fragile little boy? Who would dare suspect that the daemati that had roamed the Day Court’s halls and slithered his way into Velaris was a child?

Azriel gripped you by the front of your ruined clothes, hosting you up in the air. Your feet kicked uselessly and grabbed onto Azriel’s arm, trying to alleviate the choking pressure of his hand so close to your neck.

“No. Azriel please. It’s me,” you whimpered. “It’s me.”

There was a flicker of recognition in his eyes. There and gone. So brief you wondered if you’d imagined it.

His left hand parted the tatters of your robes, and you flinched when his fingers brushed against your hip before settling on the chain that kept the book tied to you.

Panic seized your soul.

You’d been chipping away at the book’s secrets for months and you couldn’t let Azriel — couldn’t let Koschei — get his hands on it. Not without you knowing what it was that made Beth’s story so special.

You flung a hand out, feeling the leather of the book beneath your fingertips like it was your own skin. Your magic called out to the book, desperate and powerful and familiar, and the barriers it possessed to hide its secrets melted away at your beckoning. You poured every inch of your power into it even as Azriel’s lips turned down in an ugly frown that didn’t belong on his face.

Your eyes turned to gold, bright as the sun as you basked in the knowledge flooding your mind with the force of a tsunami. You didn’t hold anything back. Not this time.

You were so lost in the book — in the emotions and memories wrapping around your mind, sharp and brighter than the light of a thousand suns — that you didn’t feel it when Azriel gripped that golden chain. The metal flared, a high-pitched ring piercing the air as it snapped in two, giving way to Azriel’s power. Nothing should have broken it. And yet there it was dangling from your waist.

You did feel it when he broke your wrist.

When he forced the book from your grasp.

And then stabbed you in the stomach.

Cassian and Nesta winnowed to the street and watched in horror as your body was dropped to the ground. Your head cracked the pavement, hands twitching palms up at your sides.

Nesta shrieked. The sound was harrowing. The mourning, dying screams of an animal.

She charged forward, twin blades flashing in her hands, and silver light shot out of her chest, crashing into Azriel’s shields and forcing him back twenty feet. He gritted his teeth. The rubber soles of his shoes skidded and burned.

Cassian collapsed on his knees beside you, peeling off his leather jacket and wrapping it around your head and neck to keep it in place.

“Shit.” His hands came away bloody. RHYS! FEYRE! He screamed into the corners of his mind, hoping they’d hear. GET HERE NOW!

“Thanatos.” Your voice was weak.

“It’s Cass. Hey, keep your eyes on me ok.” He pressed his hands against your stomach, wings flared out to protect you from the cold burn of Nesta’s power as she went toe to toe with The Shadowsinger. Magic sizzled in the air, raising the hair on the back of Cassian’s neck like a lightning strike waiting to happen. Blood pooled over his hands, thick and dark. “Eyes open,” he commanded, “On me.”

Your eyes were open, and glowing strangely, but you weren’t staring at Cassian. No. You were miles outside of your body.

“The Bone Carver. That’s it.”

“Eyes on me, Y/n. Eyes on me.”

“Thanatos,” your hand twitched, “The Bone Carver. That’s how she did it.”

Nesta screamed, flying overhead in a burst of blue light that had her back slamming into one of the marketplace towers. The white marble cracked viciously and Nesta dropped to the ground, dazed and distracted as blood dripped out from her nose.

“NESTA!” Cassian roared, eyes narrowing into dangerous slits as Azriel waited at the bottom of the street.

The Shadowsinger muttered something dark and revolting beneath his breath. Ancient, powerful words that were whispered in his mind. He held onto the book in his hands as it lit up in flames and then blew the ashes into the wind that would carry them all the way to Andrian’s master.

Koschei.

The call of her mate sharpened her senses and Nesta rolled onto her feet, calling her weapons back into her hands and leveling a glare at Azriel that would have killed a lesser male on the spot.

She was Nesta fucking Archeron.

Lady Death.

Queen of Queens.

And she would be damned if she let Azriel hurt her or anyone else.

“I’m sorry for what I’m about to do, Az,” she growled.

She’d been holding back before. She’d been holding back a long while. But no more of that. The power she let out burst through Velaris with light brighter than a dying star, crackling with an energy that knocked Azriel off his feet and sent him crashing into the river wall with a sickening crack that shattered the bones in his arm, his leg, and his wings.

Rhys appeared at his side, violet eyes wide open in shock. He could feel the magic suffocating his brother’s consciousness, burying him so deep there was almost nothing left but anger behind his whiskey-brown eyes.

Rhysand grabbed the sides of his head, shoving his way into Azriel’s mind even while he fought back. Rhys flinched when one of Azriel’s knives nicked his temple, drawing blood that dripped down onto his velvet dinner jacket and floated on the dense material like dew drops.

“Stop. This isn’t you, Az.”

Azriel seethed, teeth bared and bloody. He spit in Rhysand’s face and he winced. Rhysand would never be able to forgive himself for what he did next. But someone had burrowed themselves into Azriel’s mind so thoroughly, so viciously, that in that moment, it was the only thing Rhys could think to do.

Rhysand’s talons dragged down on Azriel’s mental walls so viciously he screamed as they were torn to pieces. He dug in with brutal efficiency. Reaching, tearing, clawing to catch the curl of power that had infected Azriel’s mind before it could do any more damage. He latched onto its slithery, silver body and wrenched it out of Azriel’s consciousness.

When I find you. You’re as good as dead. Rhysand promised.

The daemati slunk away with a giddiness that sent a shiver through The High Lord’s bones.

Azriel slumped, weak and boneless, against his brother’s shoulder. Sweat beaded his brow and he shook, blinking the saltiness out of his eyes. He felt like he’d been beaten within an inch of his life. His bones were broken. His wings twisted. There was a raging headache that a hundred shots of vodka paled in comparison to.

But it was his hands that horrified him most. Red and slippery.

His breath shook.

He couldn’t… he couldn’t remember… what….

His eyes shot to Rhys, then up the street where he could make out Feyre, Cass, and Nesta huddled over your still body. The bond sat deep within him pulsing with terror and pain.

“Rhys.” His voice broke. Rhysand angled his body to hide you from view, but it was too late. Azriel was panicking now, body trembling uncontrollably. “What happened?”

Rhysand said nothing. His eyes shined with horror.

“What did I do? Rhys, what did I do?!”

“Cass. Cassian, I’ve got her.”

His hands were shaking. There was so much blood. The smell burned his nose and made him want to throw up his lunch. Feyre covered his hands with her own, peeling them away sticky and red from Y/n’s stomach.

Light flooded out from Feyre’s palms, warm and lovely and Cassian and Nesta breathed a sigh of relief as the flow of red slowed and then stopped, flesh knitting itself back together.

“It’s ok. You’ll be ok.” Nesta’s words were commanding as she held your neck and head still.

Your eyes searched the empty sky, seeing and unseeing. Then your hands shot up, grasping Feyre’s shoulders and digging in deep enough to leave bruises. Your eyes were wide, staring at her with an intensity that spoke of a thousand years. An unfathomable wealth of knowledge that should have crushed you beneath its weight.

“Y/n it’s ok,” she murmured gently, pushing more power into your body, willing you to heal faster.

“Look. Feyre you need to look,” your voice was thick. Wet. Blood coated the inside of your mouth bitter and metallic.

“I’m looking. Y/n, you hit your head. It’s going to be ok. You hear me? It’s going to be ok.”

“You need to look,” you said once more.

You trailed a bloody, weak hand down Feyre’s arm and pulled her fingers up to your temple, tapping once. Twice.

Without any more direction, she slipped into your mind and gasped.

Feyre stood in a pool of mist, white fingers reaching up her legs and splintering outwards before they changed direction and started to climb up into the darkness like trees. Or rather… like bookshelves. The mist formed stacks that disappeared into the distance, endless hallways and shelves that wound around each other. Chaotic and orderly at the same time.

She could feel your presence beside her. Or rather she was you. In that moment she felt the raging winds of your power, hot and ravenous. It wrapped around you, tugging you to and fro like that uncontrollable lurch when you stand too close to the cliff’s edge. The call of the void.

She needed to answer that call the same way you did whenever you used your powers, because somewhere in the halls of your mind stood the knowledge you’d worked so hard to obtain. The truth of how it was Bethsevah Mordeigh was able to trap Koschei, and how to end it once and for all.

Feyre let your magic pull her in the right direction. In the mist she stumbled upon the final memories you’d absorbed from the book before it had blown away in the wind.

Bethsevah wept, “No. No. No. I won’t,” shoving away the reed thin body that held her so close. Thanatos grasped her face in his pale hands, begging her to listen to him even as she shook her head frantically. “I won’t do it.”

“You must. Bethsevah, you must.” His pitch black eyes winked with starlight… or maybe it was his tears.

This world and its people had changed him. He could feel it in his bones. Something very deep and cruel within him had been twisted into something sacred. Something that toed the line of kindness.

Koschei thought it was this element that made fae and humans beneath the three of them. They were supposed to be pure. Powerful. Handing out life and taking it away like the gods they were. But now Thanatos knew better. Now he knew exactly what it was that made Koschei and Stryga worse than even him — they would never be able to care for anyone. Not the way he cared for Bethsevah. Not the way he cared for the world she loved.

“I won’t do it,” she growled.

“Then they’ll die,” he said, with a tone of finality that could only belong to a death god. “Everyone. Everyone you love. Everyone you care about. I know my brother. Koschei craves attention and devotion above all else. He won’t let you worship your Mother. He won’t stop until you all kneel or until you’re ashes in the wind. Beth—” He wrenched her hands back from where she covered her eyes, refusing to even look at him.

He tucked his crooked finger beneath her chin, coaxing her gaze up. Together they were storm clouds blanketing an eternal night. A lightning strike — brief and chaotic and electrifying.

“You don’t know what you’re asking of me,” she whispered, steel laced in her soft voice, “You don’t know what you’re offering.”

He smiled, sad and simple. “I know exactly what I’m offering up.”

“Once I lock you in The Prison, I won’t be able to let you out. No one will. You’ll be trapped there for eternity.” She shivered, closing her eyes. She wouldn’t wish that fate upon her worst enemy, but her mate? She shook her head.

“I know.”

“No, you—”

“I have seen the first fall of snow on a new world. I have seen entire cities leveled to dust with no survivors. I’ve lived thousands of years. I understand.”

“We’ll find a way. Kosch—”

“Remember what I told you,” he whispered, “Back at the cabin? You were made to ruin me, Beth. And I will let you do it a million times over. Without hesitation.”

You and Feyre felt Beth’s pain as acutely as if you shared the same heart.

“I wish she hadn’t done it,” Beth whispered, “I wish the Mother had never created me to be your mate.”

“I don’t.” Thanatos leaned his forehead against Beth’s and got lost in her. “There is no other way, Bethsevah.” He kept saying her name, like just speaking the word and feeling the shapes it took in his mouth would prolong the time they had together. Would tie them together more surely than the bond that burned in their chests.

She felt the battleground slip beneath her feet and no amount of power, no amount of willpower, could change it.

He brushed back her hair and trailed one of his slender fingers down the curve of her cheek ending one teardrop’s race to her chin. “Mating bonds are powerful things, Beth. Your magic — your blood — and yours alone will be able to cut through my defenses and sever me from my power. I want you to take it and lock me away. Once my magic is yours, Stryga won’t be able to see you coming and you’ll be able to take her power as well. So long as you leave Koschei for last it may just be enough power to rid him from this earth once and for all.”

“You’d have me do this. Destroy you and your family. This is what you want?”

Thanatos hesitated. “I am not a good male. But this… this will have to be enough. This is what I want, Bethsevah. For you and your family to live. To be happy and safe.”

“I won’t be happy, “ she said, eyes now flat and dull as the silver coins they placed over the dead, “I won’t take anyone else.”

“I want you to,” he begged, “I want you to marry and to have children. I want you to grow your family so that one day, if I ever do make it out of that Prison, I’ll still see pieces and memories of you roaming this earth. That’s all I want, Bethsevah, and it’s already more than I deserve.”

“I’ll find a way,” Beth promised. “I’ll find a way to get you out. I swear it.”

“Don’t make any bargains with me.” He smiled sadly, thumb wiping away at her cheeks, “That’s what got us into this mess.”

Finally she laughed, just a little. “I don’t regret it.”

“Neither do I.”

The memory froze. A moment in time trapped like a beetle in amber.

A hand grabbed Feyre by her shoulders and swung her around. You stood there cloaked in pale, golden light, your eyes shining like copper coins. When you opened your mouth, you spoke in Beth’s voice.

Thanatos told me that magic runs in blood — familiar, same. But mates are different. Powerful. Their magic can protect one another. Identify one another across space and across time. But they can also turn on each other viciously. A lock and a key. Madness and salvation.

What I could destroy in Thanatos, I stood a chance at destroying in his siblings.

Your face fell, hauntingly beautiful in the glow of your powers.

But I couldn’t do it. Not in the way he asked. I took his power. I locked him in that Prison. I bound Stryga to her cabin in the woods. But I didn’t kill Koschei when I should have. When the power of three gods was coursing through my veins and stripping me down to my bones, when I had enough light within me to see the birth and death of stars and the face of the Mother, I couldn’t do it.

I thought I would be capable of destroying Koschei and freeing Thanatos, but I couldn’t do either. I had only enough sanity left to take that power and bury it somewhere Koschei couldn’t touch. To trap him on the lake where he can live in madness knowing his magic is so close by and yet locked away. Unreachable.

I’ve done my part. I’ve had my children. I’ve left my mark on the world, great and terrible as it is. If you’re reading this, my daughters, do what I could not. Take the power in the lake and destroy him. It will open for you, and only you. My power. My blood.

And if you have any love for me at all, find a way to release Thanatos. That is what I ask of you.

Bethsevah’s calls had never been answered, at least not by her children. You knew this much in your heart. Thanatos — The Bone Carver — had freed himself thousands of years later only to die beneath the Cauldron’s power.

You whispered a silent prayer to the Mother. You hoped the Bone Carver was at peace now. Now that he must be with his Beth.

Azriel was screaming your name, broken cries cutting through the quiet of the marketplace. You’d never thought him capable of such a wretched noise.

The High Lady sat shock still above you with tears streaming down her face. Grey eyes glistening.

<- Previous Chapter Next Chapter ->

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Author's Note:

I apologize if you thought I'd forgotten about the plot with Koschei and was just writing cute, fluffy scenes between our favorite Librarian and our favorite Batboy. But you also should've remembered that I burned this girl's house down and had her kill a another character in self defense so... this was coming... sorry...

This is by far the chapter I've been most nervous about posting because it's where I start to tie together all the weird loose threads that have been accumulating throughout this story so I am very much open to feedback on how I can do things better and on how I can make things clearer moving forward. Or! If you thought I did a good job and are intrigued, I'd appreciate it if you let me know that too!

But anyway thanks for reading 😅.

#azriel x reader #azriel x y/n #azriel x you #azriel x reader slowburn #azriel shadowsinger #the shadowsinger and the inkbird #acotar fanfiction #acotar #azriel x reader angst

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vivwritesfics · 7 months

Text

Easy Mornings

Honestly not sure how I feel about this - uni work is killing me and this is all I got rn

Maxiel x reader

Waking up beside somebody you love. There's no better feeling. Y/n opened her eyes and looked at the man sleeping beside her. The other side of the bed was empty, with the cats sleeping on the very end of the bed.

Y/N was sleeping in the middle of the bed, as she always did. On this particular morning she woke up sharing a pillow with Daniel, one arm draped over him.

She sat up slowly and slipped out of the bed, using Max's empty side of the bed. She gave Jimmy and Sassy a stroke, pulled on one of Danny's discarded shirts and made her way out of the bedroom.

Y/N loved living in Monaco. She stepped out onto the balcony and looked out over the country. From the apartment they had a lovely view of the harbour, of the yachts and the sparkling water.

What a beautiful place to live. After a year and a half of their relationship, Max had asked them to move into his apartment. Danny agreed instantly, and Y/N was quick to follow. That was the only thing that would have held her back, if Danny didn't want to move. If Daniel didn't want to, Y/N wouldn't. It wouldn't have been fair for her to live with one and not the other.

After making herself a coffee, Y/N walked around the apartment, searching for her other boyfriend. Well, we'll use the term 'search' loosely. Y/N knew exactly where Max was, but she didn't want to interrupt him.

Situating herself in the kitchen, Y/N texted Max. She made herself and Danny breakfast as she waited for Max to text her back. Eating her own, she walked back towards the bedroom and around to Daniels side of the bed.

"Danny," she whispered as she placed the bowl of cereal onto his bedside table. Y/N gently shook his shoulder as she called his name, trying her best to wake him up. "C'mon, Danny. I brought you some breakfast."

Daniels snoring stopped as his eyes opened. His face was still pressed into the pillow as he stared at her with his brown eyes. He blinked. Once. Twice. And then he grabbed her and pulled her onto him. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her back into the bed with him. "You," he took a moment to yawn. "You should come back to bed with me."

His eyes were closed once again. Y/N let out a laugh as she turned in his arms and kissed his jaw. "Right, Max?" He called, reaching past her, towards the other side of the bed.

"Max isn't here," Y/N said as she rolled in his arms again and looked up at the ceiling.

Daniel let out something close to a whine. "Where is he then?"

"I think you know."

Danny knew exactly where Max was. It was where Max always was when he got a free moment. On his sim rig, ignoring everything.

On days when they all had to get up early, Max was right there with them, getting up, getting dressed and rushing out of the apartment. On their lazy days Max was still up early while Danny and Y/N slept.

It was why Max was the very best of the very best. Why he was twenty seconds ahead of the car in second place at every race.

Once Daniel had tried to join Max on this rigorous sim racing regimen. It was when he'd been placed back into AlphaTauri and just before his crash and injury.

The crash had been terrifying for Y/N. It had taken her back to 2018, before they'd all been together and she'd watched Daniel go into the back of Max. After the race Y/N had caught Oscar and pulled him in for a hug, relieved at least one of them was okay.

When Danny came out of the hospital, Y/N actually liked having him around. And I say actually because she wanted him in the car, on the track, but she loved having him there with her.

Suddenly, the lights flickered off in the bedroom. "What the hell?" Y/N whispered. She stood and went to flick them back on, but nothing happened.

"Fuck!" They heard from further in the apartment.

With nothing but boxer shorts on, Daniel struggled up from the bed. He gave Y/N a kiss on the forehead and walked out of the room.

Y/N didn't follow him. She sat herself back on the bed, getting under the covers as she waited for her boys.

The door swung open once again and Daniel walked in, leading Max in by the hand. "Look who I found," Daniel said and sat Max down onto the bed. "Poor baby had his sim racing go down when the power cut."

"Maxie," Y/N said and pulled him back on the bed. She lifted the covers and he crawled underneath, taking his place on her left.

She wrapped her arms around him and Daniel got under the covers on the other side. "I was winning as well," Max said with a pout.

"Oh I know," Y/N said and kissed him.

Max didn't let her go, and Daniel had to join in. For once they were getting a cosy morning together, all because of a little power cut.

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bubbles-for-all-of-us · 1 year

Text

Cold as ice

a/n I honestly hope you all will cry the way I cried writing this because now I genuinely need four to five business days to recover. Because never have I actually needed to take a minute to sob in the middle of writing.

summary: what happens when Ellie stumbles upon a memorial that turns out to have both your and Joel's kids names on it. When the past pain is brought back to the daylight even the coldest of hearts finally break.

warning: pain and suffering first and foremost, tissues ain't included. Blood, wounds, shooting, killing, multiple death, loosing your kids.

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Ellie had slipped out of the shower. She hated being separated from you and Joel. So the fact that you walked away from her, leaving her with Maria, didn't sit well with her whatsoever. You had hugged her tightly before leaving, promising to be back as soon as possible and that you three would eat dinner together as you always did.

She had gotten extremely close to you. Yet there was something in Joel's eyes when he watched you hug Ellie that told her that there was more than you two let her know. She was aware that you two had been together long before the outbreak; she assumed you were married from the bent ring that was on your finger. But besides that, she knew nothing. Well, that you could handle Joel's shit the best of anyone Ellie had met.

She had seen and heard Joel mumbling in his sleep. Watched you rub his back with a sad expression on your face. And the same went for you, just when your nightmare hit - they hit you hard. Ellie had been woken up by your screams in the middle of the night. Joel's calm voice tries to make you calm down. She had only once turned to look at all of this unfolding; most of the time she just pretended that she was fast asleep. "Don't let them, Joel", you cried, "Don't", "I'm so sorry", Joel would sway you from side to side. His own eyes glossed over with tears. "Should have let me die instead. I should have died," you choked out, clenching the shirt Joel was wearing. His face looked stone cold as you clawed at him, sobbing.

Ellie never brought those nights up. If she teased Joel for speaking in his sleep, she had never said anything about your nightmares out loud. After nights like that, she would shimmy closer to you. Making sure she would be holding onto your hand more often or just hugging you every moment she could. Ellie couldn't help the feeling inside her that told her that you needed her.

Ellie hurried down the stairs, zipping the pink jacket she despised solely because of its outrageously girly color. Maria had left the note that she was just across the street, and as much as Ellie enjoyed being alone. She needed to kill time before you two came back. Plus, being away from you made her rather uneasy. She knocked on the door a couple of times. Yet no one answered. After more failed attempts, Ellie just let herself in. "Maria," she called out, stepping into the hallway. The house looked nice and was well lived in. Ellie had never seen anything like it. Even the smell seemed homely. She stepped into the living room, where the fire was crackling in the fireplace. Her eyes fell onto the three names written down with white chalk, surrounded by candles. Kevin, Sarah, and Malakai. Ellie couldn't help but frown.

"Ah, good, here you are. Try it on," Maria said, making Ellie jump as she turned away from the bored and took the coat from her hands. "Well, it's super fucking purple," "Eggplant, fits well?", Maria questioned, and Ellie nodded her head. "Who's been cutting your hair?", Ellie gave the woman a crooked look. "Am… world-class salons," she sassed back, making Maria let out somewhat of a chuckle. "I'll go get my sizers," Ellie argued immediately, but Maria stood firm, "Just the ends I promised."

The sound itself made Ellie cringe as she held onto the side of the chair for dear life. She hated this. Hated getting her hair cut. "I saw you looking at the memorial Tommy made", Ellie swallowed hard once Maria spoke up once again. She hoped this wouldn't be brought up, but then again, she was snooping. "I'm sorry about your kids," Ellie choked out, thankful that she didn't have to look her in the eye. Maria's movements stopped. "It's okay and kid. Just Kevin. Sarah and Malakai were Joel's and Y/N's kids", and a cold shiver ran down Ellie's back. Kids. You two had kids and lost both of them. "I'm sorry, shouldn't have said anything", "It's okay, it… It explains Joel's behavior and why Y/N…", but her voice died down. Maria didn't need to know about your nightmares.

"Look, I won't ask you what you are doing with them, especially Joel…" "Good," Ellie bit back. "You need to understand my concerns", Maria walked right in front of her, but Ellie only glared her way, "Be concerned about your husband, who did the same shit, if not worse". Maria let out a surprised sigh, "You have one hell of a mouth," and Ellie quickly stood up, shrugging off the towel that was over her shoulders, "And you are one hell of a sister-in-law if all you can do is throw shit at Joel." The adrenaline rushed through Ellie the moment the words slipped past her lips. She didn't regret them, but at the same time, she knew she shouldn't have. It was, however, too late. So she quickly stormed out of the house.

Her breathing picked up as she ran. Quickly slamming the doors behind herself. "Ellie?", your voice rang through the place, and she almost sank to the floor with relief. Like a lost animal, she darted towards the kitchen, meeting you midway as you stepped out into the hallway. Throwing her arms around your torso as she pressed herself closer to you. You couldn't help but frown as your hands ran through her hair. Confused as to what had happened, "Love, you are worrying me. What's going on?" You tried to loosen Ellie's grip on you, but she just clenched your shirt tighter.

Ellie almost felt like she suddenly couldn't face you. She shouldn't have found out like that. So she quickly stepped back and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. The worry inside you grew even more as you watched her. "Sweet girl, should I go get Joel?", you asked, but Ellie quickly shook her head, only now realizing that this involved him as much as it involved you. "Okay, well, you know you can tell me anything. I can't help if I don't know what happened," you said, softly reaching for Ellie's hand. Just this didn't feel like anything. This felt like the biggest thing ever.

"I'm sorry," Ellie rasped out, "I wasn't… I didn't want to… but they had a memorial," Ellie cried out, and suddenly it all started to make sense. You moved to wrap her up in your arms once again, "No one is blaming you; you were bound to find out eventually." You ran your hands through Ellie's hair once again. With a sigh, you clenched the necklace that hung over your chest. "You want to know the story of me and Joel?", you asked, making Ellie look up at you with mixed emotions. You nodded your head, "Well, let's make tea and sit down somewhere more comfortable." You knew that this was going to be one painful set of memories to unlock. But she deserved it. She was part of the family now.

And what a journey it had been. You met Joel in a supermarket. Where he was frantically looking for baby formula. The baby he was supporting with one hand screamed bloody murder. "Hello," you said cautiously, not wanting to startle him any further. His helpless, tired eyes snapped your way. You could tell that he most definitely hadn't slept in more than a couple of days. If not his eyes telling you that, then his overgrown and unkempt beard did. This male was a mess. "Do you mind if I", you pointed to the bundled-up baby, "You're in distress, and they feel it. Babies are sensitive to emotions", Joel's shoulders sagged; it looked like your words had finally defeated him.

"Just stand here. If you even think about doing something to hurt her…," you looked at him with a knowing smile. Trusting your blood and soul with a stranger was no joke. Especially being a newly baked parent. Plus, fathers were already way more protective. Especially of their girls. You pressed your hand to the heart, "I'll stand right here, just want to help". Joel nodded his head. Dropping down the box of formula he was holding as he moved towards you, lowering the bundle into your hands.

Even with her face all red and screaming her little lungs out, she was so pretty. You gently rocked her in your arms, "It's okay, gorgeous girl. Why are you crying, love bug?", you cooed at her. Fingers carefully ran down her cheek as you wiped away her big tears. "Shhh, sweet girl, you've got your daddy all worried. We don't want that, do we?" The cries slowly died down, and her big, still-damp eyes stared right at you.

Joel felt like someone had sent this as a cruel joke. His wife, the mother of his child, should be doing this, not some stranger in the middle of the supermarket. "Grab the mixture on the second shelf, more to your right", your voice made Joel snap his head in your direction once again. "I assumed you were looking for a formula. So that one should do her good. Won't upset her stomach if she's also breastfed", Joel clenched his jaw at your words. No, Sarah was not. Her mother had vanished. She didn't even know what a mother was or what it would feel like to have one.

You sensed the tension. Slowly stepping closer to the male, one hand resting on his shoulder. "Don't take this as an insult because I'm sure you are an amazing father. But do you want me to pop by and help out while you rest a little?" You had an odd feeling that the mother wasn't in the picture. That he was all alone. And the baby wasn't older than a month or a bit more. If this man was juggling that alone. Well, that must have been hard.

You hummed to yourself as you fixed up a light dinner from whatever you managed to find in Joel's fridge. Considering the empty cardboard boxes all over the place, it's been a hot minute since he had a proper meal himself. Once he drove you back to his, you quickly ushered him upstairs. Telling him to take a bath and catch some sleep. You knew that he would have fought you on it. If only he wasn't running on the last bits of energy. And you weren't snooping, but while you were cleaning up the kitchen, you found an open letter. A letter you assumed was from Joel's wife. She had left them two without anything, not even a proper explanation. You knew it wasn't your place to judge; motherhood was tough. Not all women were built to be mothers. You had written down instructions for Joel. How do fix a bottle. What different formulas do get, and how to switch them up if Sarah got an upset stomach per se. You wanted him to know that he wasn't alone. Even if you two had known each other for less than a day.

Joel stepped down the stairs hours later. Beard trimmed, eyes less puffy. He found you on the sofa reading a book to Sarah. One of her tiny fists was wrapped around your finger as your soft voice filled the room, "Why are you smiling? Am I that funny?", you cooed at her, making Sarah let out a happy grumble, "Ah, we even lost the pacifier with all the smiling, huh," you pinched her cheek carefully.

Joel was lost for words, to say the least. This was how he saw his family. This was what he hoped he would come down to with his wife. A sob that had held up for weeks, now finally escaped his lips, making you turn his way in an instant. You carefully set Sarah down before approaching him. Opening up your arms in case he needed a hug but keeping a distance in case this was overstepping his boundaries. Yet Joel did fall into your arms. He mumbled out all of his worries and questions that had been bothering him. He had no clue what he was doing. How nothing made sense to him now.

That night, and the many that followed, completely transformed you two. You had practically moved into the Millers' house. You lived not that far away, but the apartment was small, and since the job, you had only managed to cover the rent costs; you were barely getting by as it was. Joel needed someone to look after Sarah while he worked, so having you in the house solved that issue for him. But with each passing week and more, you three fell into somewhat of a routine, and you couldn't help but notice how right this all felt. You always wanted to be a young mom anyway. Sure, the baby wasn't yours, but that meant nothing to you. You cherished Sarah as if she was your blood and flesh. Joel loved that Sarah would grow up having you in her life. A true mother figure and did not doubt that as soon as his daughter learned how to talk, she would without a doubt refer to you as a mother.

Now, almost 12 years later, you still found yourself smiling every time you thought back at the time you and Joel came together, clawing through the struggles as one. "Morning", Sarah ran down the stairs, quickly coming to kiss your cheek as she moved to grab plates for everyone. "Morning, darling, is your father awake?", "Banged on the door loudly, but he's getting old wouldn't be surprised if he didn't hear", you let out a chuckle at her words. She often teased Joel about getting old. Especially now that his first gray hair had sprouted.

"Is Momo up?", Sarah asked, missing the sight of her brother in the kitchen. You turned to the living room, "Tommy is watching cartoons with him." Malakai was a surprise baby, to say the least. You and Joel weren't trying to get pregnant, but at the same time, you weren't always all that safe when it came to sex. When you feel pregnant, you generally couldn't help but have the fear of Joel walking out on you. Yes, you two had gotten engaged not that long ago, but the conversation of having kids together was never a thing.

Yet Joel didn't do anything but cry once you told him. He wrapped you up in his arms as you two swayed in the kitchen at two in the morning, where you had waited for him to return from his shift. "Tell me again; I still can't believe it," he muttered into your ear for what felt like a thousand times, "I am pregnant with your baby." Joel shook his head still, "Baby Miller..", he let out a breathy laugh. Hands coming to hold his head. With you? A baby with you? The most amazing woman on this earth. He surely didn't deserve it, but he was more than grateful for it.

"I know we might get tight on money. I do want to work till I get too big..", you blurred out, letting your biggest worries out. Joel quickly cupped your face, "Don't you worry your cute head about that. I will take more shifts, and we will be fine", yet you still frowned at him. You didn't want him to work any more than he already did. It felt wrong to let him carry the income burden on his own. "I can still work", "I will only agree to that if you are feeling one thousand percent sure that you can do that. I would much more prefer you stayed at home." You did figure it all out, as you always did. Sarah was over the moon to get a sibling, and now more than ever, this felt like a family.

Joel hurried down the stairs just as Sarah came back with Malakai in her arms. Your husband quickly leaned in to kiss you as he grabbed a cup of coffee. "Birth-a", Malakai clapped. Sarah leaned in to whisper something into his ear once again. "Daddy Old," he said happily, making you let out a laugh, especially when that proud smirk painted Sarah's face. Joel shook his head, "I'll send Cooky Monster after you two. Come here and hug me, you crazy bunch." Watching your kids wrapped up in Joel's strong arms always made you feel some type of way. He was the best father a child could ask for.

"No pancakes?", Sarah grumbled as she looked at the scrambled eggs in front of her, "Frown at your father, he forgot to buy it". It was a tradition to have pancakes on birthday mornings. One that all four of you took very seriously. But with the job load only getting bigger, you couldn't blame Joel for forgetting to get it. "Will we at least get the cake?", "I'll buy one on my way home, I promise," Joel said, scuffing down the egg. Sleeping in meant more rushing, especially when he still needed to drop Sarah off at school.

"Good cause it would be a shit birthday if we didn't at least get that", she said in frustration, "Language young lady", you nudged her shoulder. "Your shirt is insane out, handsome", you pointed your fork Joel's way as he dropped the empty plate in the sink. "No, it is not," he argued, looking down, "Dad, you are seriously getting old," Joel grumbled while taking off his shirt. You moved to feed Malikai, trying to hide your smile.

"You and I, tonight after the kids are asleep. I have special plans with you", Joel cupped your face, leaning in to kiss you a couple of times. "Gross!", Sarah shouted from the hallway, making you two laugh. "Don't make promises you can't keep, Miller", you packed his lips one more time. God, was letting go of this man hard. "I know what I am still capable of," Joel teased back, making you raise your eyebrows, " I'll be the judge of that tonight, sir."

You three had already eaten dinner. Malakai had been sleeping on your chest for quite some time. Sarah dozed off slightly as you waited for Joel to come home. He was late. That, of course, upset Sarah. You wished it was different. That she would see more of him. You hoped that now that you had landed a pretty good job deal, you could balance it out. That Joel could be home more often, and the kids wouldn't have to miss him that much.

The sound of the keys jingling made you stir as you noticed Joel walking into the living room. He was tired, as always. Sarah stirred from beside you. "You're so late," she mumbled, leaning more into you as you ran a hand through her hair. "I know, baby girl; I'm so sorry." Joel kneeled in front of her, carefully tickling her side in hopes to make the grumpy go away. "Did you at least get the cake?", Joel cursed under his breath. All the way home, he knew he had forgotten something, but it only hit him now. "Are you for real, dad?", "I promise I'll get the biggest cake I can get for you all tomorrow."

Sarah looked up at him, letting out a sigh as she reached to wrap her hands around her father's neck. Joel pressed her close to his chest, holding her just a tad harder than most evenings. "I got you something but it's upstairs", she said rubbing her sleepy eyes. Once she had disappeared from the room, you turned to Joel. "I'm so sorry for messing it up," he muttered, sitting down next to you. "Jokes on you, you messed your birthday up." You leaned closer to him. Malakai grumbled in his sleep, his eyes opening for a moment. The sight of his father finally being home made him reach for Joel. He instantly scooped the boy up, pressing a loving kiss to the top of his curly hair as he rocked him a couple of times. Malakai eased into sleep immediately. And you weren't too surprised about it—the warmth Joel carried was enough to make anyone fall asleep within seconds.

"Open up," Sarah said as she handed Joel a box. He shook it a couple of times, trying to inspect it without seeing it. "I know it was laying in your drawer for some time now", "Where did you get the money for it?", Joel looked at the old watch that he had to give up on years ago. "Drugs," Sarah said casually, making you let out a laugh that Joel joined soon after. "I think you got mugged, though it's not ticking." Joel pushed the watch to his ear, and Sarah's face paled as she moved to grab it out of her father's hands. The sound of ticking filled her ears, making her roll her eyes and say, "Not funny, dad."

You moved to wrap your arms around her, dragging her onto the bed with you. She would be sandwiched between you and Joel. "How about a movie, and then I'll tuck my two gremlins into bed", Sarah playfully hit Joel's chest, "Mom, will fall asleep within minutes", she turned to watch you already almost dozing off. "I won't say I won't, but I'm giving you ten minutes, and you will be out as well", you hugged her closer, eyes falling onto Joel who looked down on you two fondly.

"If I knew what was going to happen that night… I would", your voice died down, "I don't even know what I would have changed, but I wish I could go back, you know? To try to do something differently", Ellie looked at you. If you had let yourself smile a little at the thought of the happy memories she knew that now was the time when the real shit was going to go down. Ellie inched closer to you. Leaving her cup on the table as she took a hold of your hand once again.

"I have four civilians by the river," the male said sharply into the radio. "Joel," you whispered, pressing Momo closer to your chest as your breathing picked up. Joel wished he could reach for you and hold you close as well, but he knew that now that was impossible. "We'll be okay, love. All of us will be okay," Joel whispered, his eyes not leaving the soldier in front of him. "Uncle Tommy," Sarah whispered, looking between you and Joel. "We'll get you two and mommy somewhere safe, and I'll go back to look for him," Joel said as calmly as he could, pressing Sarah even closer to him.

The soldier lifted the gun, making you shake your head. "We're not sick", Joel managed to say before the shots rang out. Everything that happened after that was a blur and a slow-motion movie at the same time. The fall off the curb. The cries from Malakai rang out even louder than the bullets. You fell right beside Joel, your hands clinging to the boy and pressing him closer to you. The light from the gun made you close your eyes once again. "I'm sorry", you heard the soldier rasp out, "No, please", Joel exhaled, moving as quickly as he could to shield your body with his own as yet another shot fired. Joel's hand pressed down onto you tightly, not even letting go when the sound around him died down.

"Oh god", Tommy's voice made Joel lift his head, turning his attention to where his younger brother was looking. And there was Sarah. Her breaths were shallow as she pressed down on her side, which was bleeding heavily. Joel felt as if his world stopped for a moment as he crowed towards her. "No… no," Joel breathed out, "You're okay, baby girl, you're okay." His eyes fell on the wound that was pouring out bright red blood. "Sarah", you called out, inching towards her, gasp leaving your mouth as you saw just how bad it was. Joel tried to move her up, but Sarah only screamed out in pain, "I know, baby, I know. I need to help you up."

Joel's eyes were on you as you sobbed by Sarah's side. Hands were now just as soaked as his with sticky blood. Joel looked at Tommy, who was holding Malakai, then back to Sarah, who was gulping down air. He couldn't let his baby die. Not here. Not now. Not his little girl. Not his butterfly. Joel pressed his palms to the shot wound harder, making Sarah roar in agony, "I know it hurts, but you will be okay". You brushed your hand over the side of her face, not trusting your words anymore.

"Tommy, help me!", Joel shouted, but once he turned his attention back to his brother, his breathing stopped. Your eyes followed Joel's gaze. Eyes grew wide at the sight of Tommy standing there with a gun pointed at his head. Malakai being dragged away by another soldier. You quickly rose to your feet. "Give me my boy!", you shouted. No longer sounding like yourself. More like a wild animal out for blood.

"That's a child. Are you going to kill a child?", you stepped closer, but only got met with the back of the gun hitting your back, making you fall back to the ground. "Please, please, I'll do anything," you croaked out, pulling yourself up as you watched the soldier stop in its tracks. The boy in his arms reached out to you as he cried. The soldier let go of Malakai, and for a split second, a rush of hope flowed through you. He was going to come back to you. Your baby boy was going to be okay.

You reached your hands towards him as he took wobbly steps towards you. "Come here, baby, come here, Momo," you called out, barely being able to see through the tears streaming down your cheeks. "Mama," he cried out, making you nod your head. And then the shot rang out. The sound that you knew was going to hunt you for the rest of your life. You saw the bullet pierce Malakai's head as his body sagged to the floor.

The scream that fell from you was far from human. The pain that pierced you was as outrageous. You quickly moved forward, ready to kill the man who had just killed both of your kids cold-heartedly. You didn't make it far as two hands quickly pulled you over to the side. Turning you away from the lifeless body of the toddler.

Joel knew he had to get to you before you joined the kids on the ground. He held onto you for dear life as you trashed in his hands, "I will fucking kill you, do you hear me? I will rip you to pieces, you fuck," you screamed, trying to get loose and out of Joel's embrace. "Let go of me, let me kill him," you spat, nails digging into Joel's arms as you tried to push them away. "I've got you; you need to breathe." His words made you stop. You looked him in the eyes for the first time that night. Another sob escaped your lips as you sank to the floor, hands ripping at the skin of your chest, "Kill me, let me die, I don't want to live", your words were broken in between harsh intakes of breath. Joel shook his head once again, wrapping his arms around you, "I need you, please, I need you".

The sound of the door closing made you jump. You had no clue when you finished telling the story. You don't remember zoning out. Ellie was still holding your hands, her own eyes puffy from crying. Joel stopped in his tracks. The sight of him was not something he imagined coming home to. Your face was pale. Streaks of tears are still visible on your cheeks. Ellie didn't look any better. "What happened?", Joel quickly closed the distance between you. "Did someone hurt you? Are you hurt?", he took a hold of your trembling hand before turning to Ellie. "I…", she started, but the world failed her. The panic inside Joel only grew.

"Ellie found out about Sarah and Momo," you whispered, closing your eyes in hopes to stop the tears from falling once again. To the sound of the names, Joel's jaw clenched as he sat down on the table that was behind him. "I'm so sorry. I just saw the memorial." Joel only shook his head. "I swear I didn't", "Ellie," Joel said firmly, making her stop.

He knew this day would come. He might be half deaf, but he wasn't blind. Joel knew that Ellie was up most nights when you would scream. And was quite surprised that she hadn't yet brought this up in any way. But then again, she wasn't a stupid girl; she knew her boundaries. You rose to your feet, and Joel was quick to steady you, yet you brushed his touch away. "I need some fresh air", "I'll come with you", Joel insisted, but you shook your head, "I want to be alone for a moment". He was going to fight that choice, but by now he had grown to understand that in moments like this, letting yourself feel it out alone, at least at the beginning, was the best option.

Ellie couldn't bring herself to look at Joel as she fidgeted with her fingers, "I didn't mean to…", "I thought I was going to lose her after it all", Joel's words took Ellie by surprise. She quickly turned her gaze toward him. Joel was staring blankly at the wall in front of him. "She did everything she could to die. I didn't sleep; I couldn't. Was too afraid that I would miss something, won't be able to stop her", he exhaled sharply, hands coming over his face for a second.

"You had the biggest impact on Y/N. I saw her smiling for the first time in twenty years when you came by", Joel shook his head. Ellie couldn't utter a single word as he continued to stare at him. "I never meant to hurt you," "You never did. I feel the safest with you. I love you both as my parents. You have been the closest thing to a family that I've ever had," Ellie blurted out quickly. Joel turned to her, his eyes glistening with tears. "I won't let anyone hurt you," Joel whispered, clenching his jaw. Ellie fell into his arms, wrapping herself around his torso. "I know because you've never let anyone down, and you're not about to start doing that now."

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #the last of us imagine #the last of us reader #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal imagine

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brooooswriting · 4 months

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Hi! Could you please write a Leighton x r where r has too much to drink and forgets that Leighton is their gf and they are all flirty

My idiot

(Not the biggest fan of this one)

You’ve always been in flirt, ever since high school that was what people knew you as. It wasn’t really intentional, more just your personality and sure, sometimes it was just fun. College started the same way, you flirted here and there on purpose and the rest of the time it was just your personality.

At least until you ended up with Leighton. You didn’t change your personality but you kept it down and never flirted with anyone, but her of course, on purpose. She didn’t expect you to change and she thought it was kinda funny when people thought you were flirting with them right in front of her.

“I’m so hyped for this party” Bella told you four as you stood in their dorm with a shot in hand. All of you cheered as you were just as hyped, it had been way too long since the last one.

“Me too, but she should still drink responsibly” Kimberly said as you immediately refilled the glasses. You knew that she only meant it in a good way and you loved her for that, she was a great friend but you were going to a frat party and that was only possible if you were drunk.

“Kimberly, love, take this and shhh” you smiled kindly as she laughed. She knew you didn’t mean it in a rude way as you gave her a warm smile and she took the shot like you told her to.

“Damn, this queue is way too long” Whitney whined, earning a sigh from Bella before she suddenly gasped. And a gasping Bella was never a good thing, not once.

“I have an idea” she started and carefully looked at Leighton which made you even more weary of the idea. “Leighton, don’t kill me. But y/n should go up there and flirt us in” you could see Kimberly’s breath hitch and yours did too.

“I mean if it’s okay for y/n and he doesn’t touch her” you were surprised but only gave them a nonchalant nod as you were fine with whatever. “Well, go get us in baby” she pressed a couple of kisses to your lips before letting you off.

It didn’t take you longer than 5 minutes to get all of you in. Now you had to make sure that you weren’t going to see him in the house again as that would be more than uncomfortable but at least Leighton didn’t have to stand in the cold air anymore with her short black dress.

“Omg y/n, let’s get shots” Lila said as soon as you walked in which made all of you laugh. You gave her a nod before turning to your group.

“You guys want one too?” As all of them nodded you wandered off with your friend to get them. But you should have known that Lila wasn’t gonna let you off that easily.

“Can we have 10 shots please?” Lila asked the ‘bartender’ who quickly handed them to her.

“The fuck are you gonna do with 10 shots buddy?” You laughed.

“The question isn’t what I’m gonna do with it, the question is what we are gonna do with it. And we are gonna drink 2 each now and then we can go back and you can drink one with your girl” you would have loved to fight her but it would have been useless. So you clicked the cups and downed both of them shortly after another.

“I’m never getting drinks with you again” you laughed as you took the rest of the shots and went to find your group. “Ah, here we are. One for each” you handed out the shots until all of you had one, so you could settle next to Leighton your hand resting on her lower back.

Lila said something inappropriate as a toast and all of you downed the shots. “Why were you guys gone so long?” Your girlfriend asked as she leaned into you.

“Lila made me take two shots right there” you giggled, the alcohol hitting you slightly. You could feel the blondes snort against your body which made you smile wider.

“Leigh, can you wingman me?” Bella asked her once she spotted a dude she liked. You gave her a short nod when she asked if it was okay to leave you for a moment and kissed her before also wandering off.

“Y/n, didn’t think I’d see you here” Caneen greeted you as you nearly ran into you. “Come and be my beer pong partner” he dragged you away before you could say anything.

Once you won the game, you looked around to find your girlfriend send you a look clearly asking for help as somebody kept chewing off her ear. You excused yourself from the game and walked up to her, your hand wrapping around her waist. “Sorry, can I steal my girl really quick?” You didn’t waist for an answer, just pulling her away by her waist. “Jeez, that guy was boring” you whispered into her ear as you pulled her further which made her laugh.

“You’ve only listened to him for a couple of seconds, he was talking for like 10 minutes before you came” she groaned which made you laugh as you finally arrived at a secluded, quieter corner.

“I feel like I haven’t seen you the whole night. You look really hot in that dress” you grinned. Leighton leaned against the wall as your hands caressed her waist, sometimes dipping down a bit.

“Mhm, how hot do I look?” She flirted. You started to kiss her, leading you two to make out for a moment. The alcohol made you more needy as you have barely seen each other the whole time. But it seems like it wasn’t over as there suddenly was a knock on the door.

“Y/n, Caneen is down there about to get in a fight. Come and calm him down, that idiot isn’t listening to me” Lila screamed making you sigh as you had to pull away.

“We are just too popular” you joked to Leighton who also groaned and buried her face in your neck. “I’m coming L” you gave her another kiss before walking downstairs with the other girl. You calmed down the situation as you pulled the man away and promised him more drinking. Stupid decision.

The next thing you really remember was seeing a really really pretty and hot blonde girl dancing with an Indian girl and two other people whose backs were facing you. “Lla, m gna get ‘at grl over there” you slurred pointing to the woman which made your drinking partner gasp.

“You wkd mije such a hot couple” she slurred just as much as you did. You walked off to find the pretty girl and talk to here.

“Hey there” you said with the most charming smile you could muster and you were more than happy to see that she smiled back as she greeted you. “I just wanted to tell you that you’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen and that if you’re single I’d love to have your number” she stared at you for a moment deciding whether you were really too drunk to know that she was your girlfriend or if you were kidding.

“Are you being serious?” She asked, her eyes scanning your face as she and Whitney had to hold in their laughs. You gave her a nod as you slightly leaned against Lila who was just as drunk.

��Yeah, I mean I can only imagine that your personality is just as beautiful as you. So can I have your number cause I lost mine” you flirted again, Lila adding a ‘period’ which made Whitney break. She had to take a step back as she laughed.

“I’m sorry but I got a girl, her name is y/n” Leighton said seriously and watched your face fall before it suddenly lit up again.

“My name is y/n” you suddenly exclaimed, a happy look on your face that then fell again. “What’s her last name?”

“Oh it’s Y/l/n” the blonde was actually amazed. How were you so damn drunk?

“Damn she’ll never be as good as this girl bitch. She’s the one” Lila hyped you up as you gave the hot girl a sad smile.

“Well, I wish you all the best” you mumbled and were about to turn before the girl next to you suddenly gasped.

“Oh my god, Y/n that’s your last name. You’re y/n y/l/n” now it was your time to gasp which ultimately made your girlfriend break out in laughter.

“I’m your girlfriend?”

“Yes, yes you are” she couldn’t help but giggle when she saw how big your eyes were as you stared down at her with love.

“Damn I’m lucky, you’re so hot”

“I’m the greatest wingman ever. Now I’m gonna find someone hot, so bye bitches”

Once Lila’s support was gone you had a hard time standing which the blonde seemed to notice as she put her hands on you to support your weight. “Would your heart skip a beat too if we kissed now?” You flirted again, your brows raised a bit as you bit your lip.

She snorted a bit and nodded before hoisting your arm around her so she could walk with you. “Let’s go back” she said, not yet walking as she wanted you to be ready.

“Can I follow you home? My parents told me to follow my dreams” it was hard to make out your slurred words but she still could which made her laugh even more.

“Sure, let’s go” with her arm around yours waist she led you to say goodbye to her roommates before walking out with you.

“Who would have thought that I’d leave the party with the prettiest girl?” You asked, your voice was so genuine that it did in fact make her heart skip a beat. Sure, she knew that you loved her and that you thought she was pretty but the fact that even when you were black out drunk and couldn’t realize who she was, you’d always come to her.

“You’re an idiot” she mumbled with a smile that even showed her teeth. You didn’t hear her as you kept on talking about how pretty she was. Once she finally got you into her dorm she gave you your pjs that you left at hers. As she moved to help you change you suddenly pulled back.

“No! I got a girlfriend! Don’t touch me” you grumbled as your back was turned towards her. Your shirt came off easily but you struggled with the clip of your bra as you just couldn’t coordinate your hands so she stepped closer to do it for you. “Don’t touch me! I’m taken”

“Y/n, baby. It’s me, Leighton?” She immediately heard you sigh happily as you turned your head to look at her, which was followed by a happy smile. Once you have her the okay she opened your bra and helped you put on your top. The moment you were changed you fell into her bed, burying yourself in the pillows and the thick comforter. It didn’t take long for the blonde to join and you clung on to her as soon as possible.

She knew that tomorrow your headache was going to kill you and that you weren’t going to remember most of the night. But the memory of you trying to hit on her because you couldn’t remember that you guys were dating was going to stay forever. And she’s never let you forget it, ever.

#reader insert #brooooswriting #leighton murray x reader #renee rapp x reader

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steviebears · 2 years

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Could you do an Eddie munson x reader smut where the reader is Joyce’s daughter and Joyce finds out they have been having sex and is worried about her because she has only heard bad things about Eddie through Johnathan and will

omg 🥺this is so cute anon thank you!

edit: i just realized you wanted smut IM SORRY

GENRE: fluff, we all need it

WARNING: fem!reader, implied smut, protective Jonathan

Joyce watches, shocked, as the long haired boy falls from your window, buckling his belt with a dazed smile on his way out to leave in his beat up van.

She knew you were grown now, and even though you were the eldest of her children, your choices still worried her. Especially after what Jonathan said.

Joyce was acting odd the next morning. You had left early for work so she was left with Jonathan for a late breakfast.

"What is it mom, you've been staring at your eggs with that look on your face for the past five minutes." Jonathan questions her, taking another bite of potatoes.

"I saw the weirdest thing last night and I just don't know what to make of it." Jonathan perks up at that. Considering the things known to happen in this town, he was interested.

"What did you see?"

"Well, I don't know if I should say." She cared about your privacy, she really did, but maybe Jonathan knew something about this mystery boy. Jonathan just gives her a 'tell me' look, and she breaks.

"I saw a boy leaving Y/n's bedroom window last night." Jonathan drops his fork.

"What?" Despite being your younger brother, the boy was pretty protective of you.

"Who was it?" He straightens his posture.

"I don't know! Some guy, long hair and he left in this old van." Jonathan shut his eyes, instantly knowing who it was. He knew you two had been friendly in the past, and he certainly did not approve.

"It's Eddie Munson." Jonathan sighs, rubbing his eyes. Now, Jonathan would never interfere with your life. He had his worries just like any brother, but you were an adult and he knew he shouldn't say anything to you. That didn't apply to Joyce, though. Jonathan told Joyce about Eddie, most of the things he'd heard about the guy. He tried to put it lightly but there isn't exactly a good way to say he was a drug dealer.

Will was a different story. He thought Eddie was cool, but even he wouldn't approve of him dating his own sister.

Joyce stood by your door contemplating what to say. Eventually she knocked.

"Y/n?" She called out.

"Uh- yeah one second mom!" You and Eddie immediately broke away from eachother, looking at one another in panic before you instructed him to get in your closet.

"Okay come in!" She opens the door gently and shuts it behind her, making you nervous. Did you do something wrong? She sits on your bed next to you, looking at you with an unreadable expression.

"I wanted to talk to you about... something I saw the other night." She shifts in her spot and avoids eye contact.

"There was a boy- Eddie Munson? I saw him leaving your bedroom window and you know, looked like you two were getting... pretty close." Your face gets hot as you remember that night, the fact that your mom was talking to you about this was immensely embarrassing especially in front of Eddie. You could practically see his smile from behind the closet door.

"And I just don't think it's a great idea, neither does Jonathan. This guy he's- not exactly a golden boy I hear?" You were going to kill Jonathan for ratting out Eddie.

"Mom, trust me. He and I- we trust each other and I know he would never hurt me. Jonathan would kill him if he did, you know that." You were right and Joyce knew she had to loosen the reins.

"Okay. But, you guys are being safe right? Because the last thing you need is-" You can almost hear Eddie's snickering and the hot feeling in your face is killing you.

"Yes! Yes, mom." She smiles and looks like she remembers one more thing.

"Oh, but make sure you go pee after because-" At that, a fit of commotion is heard from the closet. She looks there, then back at you. She gives you a 'is he here?!' look and gets up. Joyce is very surprised to see a tall lanky man with crazy hair fall out of the closet.

"Jesus Y/n!" She looks at you with a mom look and back to Eddie who was desperately trying to bite back his smile. It didn't work and his pearly whites were on full display.

"Use the front door next time. No more sneaking in." She sighs as you have your smiling face in your hands.

"Yes ma'am." He says before laughing, causing her to roll her eyes- the smallest of grins on her face.

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leighsartworks216 · 7 months

Text

Not Tonight. Not To You. Never Again.

Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader (can possibly be read as platonic)

Something something Astarion would kill anybody who tries to take your drink at a party something something

I started this while sitting in the car doing laundry, and I'm finishing this while very sleepy. It was half proofread, again bc I'm sleepy

THIS FIC CONTAINS THEMES OF DATE-RAPE DRUGGING AND SEXUAL ASSAULT

Warnings: drugging, references to sexual assault, swearing, blood, murder, slight protective Astarion, no actual assault happens, hurt/comfort

Word Count: 1,374

Main Masterlist

First Baldur's Gate 3 Masterlist - Second Baldur's Gate 3 Masterlist

AO3

Tag List Form

You blinked as the world tilted on its axis, blurring at the edges of your vision, before it stood upright again, only slightly hazy. Had you really had that many drinks tonight? It didn't seem like it. Maybe this tavern's brew was stronger than you were used to?

"Everythin’ alright? You look a bit sick."

You look up at Karlach with a reassuring grin. You hated to worry any of your friends, but least of all the tiefling. She wore her heart on her sleeve, and you'd hate to see it crack. "I'm fine. Think I should head to bed - this stuff is stronger than I thought it would be."

She frowned. "Really?" She peered into her tankard, confused. "Seemed a bit weak to me."

You chuckle. It sounded distant. "Guess I'm a bit of a lightweight." You push your mug away and stand on shaky legs, using the table for support. "Goodnight, everyone."

Those who hear you bid you goodnight as well, some raising their ales in gratitude and others teasing you about not being able to hold your liquor. Astarion stares at you like he's studying you, brow pinched tight. You offer him a smile, before doing your best to stumble toward the stairs.

Halfway there, a waiter comes to your side, wrapping an arm around you and smiling brightly. You recognized him through the fog in your vision; he'd been the one to serve you drinks. "Need a hand there, hero?"

You laugh, world spinning once more as you allow yourself to lean into his support. "A hero that can't hold their liquor," you drawl. "Some hero, eh?"

He chuckles by your ear. He bears most of your weight as he helps you up each well-worn step, steering you toward your room. How'd he know which one was yours? "I hardly think it affects the world's view of you," he assures. "After all, you did save Faerûn."

"It-" Your body lurched forward, all of your limbs turning to lead. The world continued to swirl and wave and twist, until you couldn't distinguish up from down or left from right. Black spots began dotting your vision, blocking out some of the vertigo. Your stomach churned, your head ached. "'t wasn' jus' me..."

"C'mon, love. Your room is just here. Let's get you to bed."

A bedroom spun in your vision, but not for long. The last thing you saw was the waiter's grinning face as you fell to the floor, too weak to stand any longer and too dizzy to stay upright if you had.

Where....

........... Astarion.........?

"Tav?" Something cold touches your face. "Darling, wake up."

"Mmnf..."

"That's it. You're safe now."

You blinked open your eyes but winced at the light that greeted you. You heard a soft hiss.

"Is that better?"

You tried again, and were grateful to find it was no longer so bright. You looked around, trying to get a sense of your surroundings.

"You're in your room." Astarion sneered, glaring at something on the floor. "But we should move you to mine before you try sleeping again.”

“Mm? Why..?” You groan as you sit up. Your body feels so heavy, like it was made entirely of stone. Astarion helped you up with a hand to your back. You followed where his gaze had been. Laying face down on the floor, in a puddle of blood, was… the waiter? You blinked stupidly at the corpse. “What happened?”

Once he was sure you wouldn’t fall backwards, he sat down on the edge of the bed next to you. “Bastard drugged you. Gods know what he would have done to you if I hadn’t followed you up.”

Your brain was still slow, trying to piece together what had happened before this. You remember celebrating a battle won. You’d bought drinks for everyone, and… You closed your eyes, taking deep breaths as bile rose to your throat. “Oh, fuck,” you gasped. “I-I thought the drinks were just strong, I-”

He carefully touches your arm. “It’s not your fault, love. No doubt he’d gotten good at tricking people.”

You shook your head, looking at him with wide, lost eyes. “What if he’d drugged you? Or Karlach or Shadowheart or- or-!”

He scoffed in disbelief, nose scrunching. “You just got drugged and nearly assaulted, and all you’re worried about is what could have happened if it’d been one of us? Darling, please, have a little perspective.”

You grimace as you glance back at the body. The sight of the blood or the corpse itself doesn’t bother you anymore. But the thought of what could have happened sat thick and unpleasant in your stomach. You grab his hand from your arm and hold it in your lap, fiddling with his long fingers to distract yourself. “How did you know to… To follow?”

“Well, for one, I trust Karlach knows when an ale is strong. Two, I’ve seen you hold your own against her in your little drinking games before. And three…” He curls his fingers around your hands, stopping your fiddling and rubbing a thumb along your knuckles. “I’ve seen men like him play this same game before. Too many times. I wasn’t going to risk it happening to you, too.”

A chill runs through your body. You lean forward to press your forehead against his neck. He hesitantly brings up a hand to run along your back, holding you to him. “Thank you,” you murmur. You bury your face further into him. “Gods, I can’t believe I…” You sigh, soft and shaky, dread overwhelming you as the reality of what happened sunk in. “Thank you, Astarion.”

“As much as I’d love to sit here all night, listening to you praise me over and over for the hero I am,” he teases, earning a quiet huff from you, “you need to sleep. And not here.” He gently pulls you away from him and stands from the bed, squeezing your hands before he lets go. “We’ll just tuck you in down the hall, I’ll go downstairs and scold the others for being too careless, inform the innkeeper of his employee’s exploits - perhaps even get paid for doing so - and then we can get the Hells out of here come first light.”

You chuckled softly. He helped you stand, an arm around your waist keeping you steady as he walked you around the body and out the door. “And if I want you to stay?”

He hums as though the thought never crossed his mind, before sighing overdramatically. “Then I’ll just have to get paid for my bold rescue in the morning. I suppose it can wait until then. I won’t be cleaning up that mess anyway.”

He unlocks his door at the end of the hall and guides you to the bed, setting you down on the edge. You clumsily kick your boots off and he sets them by the door, toeing his off right next to them. You plop back into the pillows, giving in to the weight in your bones. He huffs a laugh at how pathetic you look, but it’s far more endearing than he wishes to admit.

You do your best to get comfortable under the thick duvet the inn provided, sinking into the warmth it offered. He easily slithered in beside you, touching you almost pensively as you turn into him and cuddle close to his chest. You’re so warm. He wraps an arm around your shoulders, the other draped over your waist, keeping you close. Keeping you safe.

Even just thinking about what could have happened if he hadn’t had the good sense to follow fills him with rage. He should have torn that bastard apart, piece by piece, until he only knows pain and remorse for every single victim that came before. But you’re safe, and that’s what really matters, more than his own revenge.

You press your nose against his neck, hot breaths fanning across his skin. He could almost feel the brush of your lips as you murmured another thank you. Your arms slipped around his middle, wrapping around him so you were as close as possible. You muttered another thanks, and another, and another, until exhaustion overwhelmed you, and you fell asleep in his arms.

---

Tag List:

@hypopxia @flsalazar @beverlybeav @angelofthorr @emiemiemiii @aurasyn @furblrwurblr @cappsikle @mjmygd @thegirlsadventuresinwonderland @kindadolly @bloopthebat @pandimoostuff @chesb0red @black-star1472 @sessils @puppyg1rl666 @maruichio @katharynmarie @twinkliker3000 @cherifrog @catching-fire-in-the-wind @thespectacularspaceace @lynnlovesthestars @tototini @ashrio20 @bambamwolf87 @astarion-imagine-archive @thistrashisreadytobash @rosxtinted

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sunnytarg · 2 years

Note

A aemond Targaryen x velaryon reader smut ( daughter of laenor and rhaenrya ) where instead of lucerys going to storm ends she goes and he hears that she is betrothed to Cregan Stark, so he basically demands that she gives her self to him or he will kill her brothers👀. So she runs and he chases her and kidnaps her on a island where they yk and she gets pregnant… towards the end rhaenrya gets wind of her only daughter getting kidnapped and impregnated causing the war because she thinks she was assaulted by aemond.

This turned out to be so much longer than I meant for it to be so I hope you enjoy it. You can also read it on Ao3

The Song of Asteria || Aemond Targaryen x Niece!reader

Aemond had always trodden the fine line between love and hate when it came to the eldest Velaryon sibling. He admired and hated her. He lusted after her and wanted to wrap his hands around her neck at the same time for the way she made him feel.

When they were children it was simply envy he felt toward her. While his brother ran away from his Targaryen heritage, Aemond dove in head first. He learned everything he could about Old Valyria and their ancestors. Why they could ride dragons and sometimes have prophetic dreams. Despite all of this, he was still only half Targaryen by blood and his father never talked to him about what it meant. This made it easy to hate his nephews, as they were so clearly bastards. They walked around with the name Velaryon, claiming to be the blood of the dragon when they were nothing more than a product of an affair with no one special.

His niece was different, though. She outmatched them all with her Valyrian blood. She was a Targaryen and a Valyrian and had both her parents around to tell her what it meant to be the blood of the dragon. When they left for Dragonstone he tried not to think of her much but his thoughts always returned to her. At the funeral for Leana Valeryon, he had seen her once again. In the short time that she and the rest of her family had been gone he had learned that envy could border into desire. As they stood around outside chatting after the funeral rites he could only watch his niece. Watch her silver hair catch rays of the sun that were beating down on them. Watch as her lilac eyes trailed after the dragons that flew overhead.

He had every intention of going over and talking to her but was stopped when he saw the glare that her brother Jacerys was giving him. He must have seen how he looked at his niece. It was just another thing that the Strong bastard couldn’t understand. Targaryen's blood sang out to each other like a siren luring in prey. She was calling to him but he turned the other way when her brother went to her side.

It was that night that he had claimed Vaghar. He had proven that he didn’t need a dragon to hatch. Not when he could get the oldest living dragon to head his commands and his alone. When he had climbed off of Vaghar he only had one thing in mind and that was to talk to his niece. To prove to her that despite also having Hightower blood he was just as much of Old Valyria as she was as he had claimed a dragon finally. With this news perhaps he could persuade her to accept a betrothal with him despite their mother’s hatred towards each other. They were too young to be married now but as royals, they should have been betrothed to someone already, in fact, he was surprised it took so long for Aegon and Helaena to become betrothed.

He was not met with his niece when he returned inside, though. He was met by his nephews and cousins who were angry about what he had done. He hadn’t meant for things to go as far as they did but when his young nephew, Lucerys took his eye there was no going back. Not for anyone.

The girl he sought after would never want him now, not with an eye missing and a hideous scar marring his face. He turned to look at the Velaryon siblings two of who were bloodied and one who was awake but still blinking herself awake. He saw that she avoided looking at him. He saw how she took her brother’s side despite being the one who had caused permanent damage to him. When he looked at her an intense feeling washed over him, making blood rush in his ears and his eyes narrow in on her. He had no way of describing this feeling but before he could think to give it a name he was being yelled at by his father.

-*-

It had been years since that fateful day and he hadn’t seen his niece or nephews since. Well, he saw them in court the day his father died and at that last meal but it didn’t feel as though it mattered because he didn’t get to say anything to her. That was all he wanted and yet, he knew if given the chance, he wouldn’t know what to say.

That’s why when she arrived in Storm’s End with a message from her mother for Borros Baratheon he knew this was his chance. He knew Borros wouldn’t agree to honor his oath to his half-sister. He was not only a stupid man but he got a marriage pact out of pledging his allegiance to Aegon.

“The King has at least offered me something, girl,” Borros said to his niece whose lips curled in distaste at his words. “A marriage pact is most helpful in sealing houses together, tell me, which of your brothers will marry one of my daughters?”

Her chin lifted and her voice was strong, even over the roaring storm outside. “My brothers, Jacerys and Lucerys are already betrothed. My younger brothers are much too young to marry your daughters.”

“So, you can offer nothing.” The Baratheon said with fake pity in his voice and Aemond smirked. Despite the fact that he coveted his niece, he could help the joyous monster that rose up in him when he realized that with his father dead, there was no protection for Rhaenerya and her children. “Unless, of course, you have an offer you’d like to make? I have no sons but I have a brother.”

Aemond’s blood felt as though it has turned to ice. Not because the Baratheon lord was openly suggesting going against his agreement in front of him but because the woman in front of him could be betrothed in seconds. Torn from him before he had a chance to have her. He didn’t realize he was squeezing the hilt of his dagger as hard as he was until he heard a gentle cough from beside him. His own betrothed. Although, none of that mattered when he saw the proud smirk on his niece’s face.

“I, myself am already betrothed to the warden of the North, Cregan Stark.” When she spoke those words he could have sworn she glimpsed his way. “I would not rid myself of such a strong betrothal for a match with a Baratheon.”

She spat the name like it was rotten food in her mouth. Aemond would have been impressed with her attitude in the face of the large and proud man if he hadn’t stopped listening to her when she announced her betrothal.

“You may be a proud man but you have no honor. Not having your house's allegiance is probably for the best.” She spoke up again and then bowed her head to Borros Baratheon, “I shall take my leave, now.”

She had only turned around and taken two steps before Aemond called out, “wait!”

She froze and turned slowly. He couldn’t blame her for the hesitancy in the look she gave him but he didn’t care about that right now.

"You will not wed Cregan Stark."

There was a pause before she threw her head back and laughed. “Who, my uncle, are you to declare such a thing? The rightful ruler arranged the match and it will help my family greatly. Plus, no one else worthy enough has stepped up to try and take my hand.”

Aemond couldn’t help but feel like those last words were directed at him. They felt like a dig at him and yet he couldn’t be sure. Instead of responding to that he only pulled out his dagger and smirked at her.

“I will have you and that northern bastard won’t stand in my way.” He growled and pulled off his eyepatch to showcase his missing eye and the sapphire in its place at the same time. “Think of it as a payment for what your bastard brother took from me.”

“You tried to kill him that night.” Her mouth was in a thin line. Oh, she was angry at him for mentioning her little brother. He could have fun with this he decided.

“Would it really matter if one little bastard died?” He questioned rhetorically. He held the dagger up and looked at it before twirling it easily in his hand. “If you don’t come with me tonight then I will fly to Dragonstone tonight and not only pluck out that little shit's eyes but stab my dagger through his heart.”

“You wouldn’t dare.” The certainty that was previously in her voice had disappeared and he saw her eye up the exit.

Borros Baratheon attempted to speak but with a look from Aemond and a hand on the hilt of his sword, the lord rightly closed his mouth.

“Wouldn’t I, dear niece?”

She didn’t respond as she sprinted towards the doorway and outside. He had predicted she would do such a thing so he made after her. He didn’t run to Vaghar, he knew he would make no trip to Dragonstone tonight. His niece was fast but not faster than he was and before she could reach her dragon he wrapped his arm around her midsection tightly and knocked her unconscious. He threw her over his shoulder and walked to Vaghar.

Neither of them would be going to Dragonstone or King’s Landing tonight or for many nights to come.

-*-

The sun shining on her face woke her. She brought a hand up to shield her eyes as she looked around. She was on what appeared to be a large island. One she didn’t recognize and one that didn’t seem to have any other inhabitants. She saw that vegetation was growing on the far corner and she saw Vaghar’s large form behind the only cave on the island.

“You have no clue where we are do you?” A voice questioned behind her and she saw her uncle standing behind her. He was without his jacket but still had his sword and dagger hanging on his hips. Before she could respond he answered for her. “Of course, you don’t, I doubt many people know of this place. I found it one day when I was flying Vaghar and when I returned to the Red Keep to study the maps, hoping to learn of the place I had just found, it wasn’t on any map.”

“Why am I here uncle?” She asked, ignoring his little speech. She didn’t know how to feel. On one hand, she was trapped on an island that apparently wasn’t on any map, meaning no one would know where to look for her and she was without her beloved dragon. On the other, she didn’t feel as though Aemond wished to harm her. She wasn’t sure why she was brought here but it wasn’t for him to kill her. If he wanted to do that he would have already of done it.

He held out his waterskin for her to drink without responding to her. He only looked off at the horizon and she hesitantly grabbed it from him. When the first drops of water touch her tongue she gulped down what little was rest, not realizing how thirsty she was. She handed it back to him and stood there quietly waiting for him to speak again.

It only took a few minutes for his eyes to leave the horizon and look at her. “Are you truly betrothed to Cregan Stark?”

She wasn’t surprised by his question but by the way he asked it. He sounded almost… sad.

“Of course,” she replied automatically. She took a deep breath before reciting what she had been told over and over again after the match had been made, “I couldn’t ask for a better man to have as a husband. Not only will the Starks keep their word to my mother but Lord Stark will make a fine husband.”

Aemond chuckled without any humor, “It’s a funny thing you do. You speak and all I hear is your mother’s voice.”

She frowned at that. She didn’t want to dignify it with an answer so instead, she asked again, “what am I doing here, Uncle?”

He sighed and brushed away a piece of her hair that had tangled from the storm and said, “I told you I would have you as a repayment for what your brother did to my eye.”

When she didn’t say anything he continued. “It gets awfully cold here at night. I plan to make a fire in the cave and sleep there. You may join me but know this, if you do not come to me tonight, you will eventually.”

After he told her this he turned and walked away. She didn’t look after him but turned to the horizon as he had done.

When she was younger she liked Aemond. They were forced to live together in the Red Keep as children and she had even enjoyed his company occasionally. Before her mother had moved them to Dragonstone she had truly thought that perhaps she would be betrothed to Aemond but that thought had permanently turned to ash when he had stolen his cousin’s right to claim Vaghar and her younger brother had stolen his eye. She knew that Lucerys had never meant to permanently harm Aemond. From the retellings of that night, he was only trying to protect their brother and he panicked and pulled a knife to stop their uncle from further harming Jacerys.

It didn’t matter, though. They had not talked after that night. Neither even attempted a conversation at that last meal.

She sat down on the soft grass and looked into the ocean. Her family would eventually find her, perhaps even before nightfall. When she was returned to Dragonstone she would be reunited with not only her family but her dragon that had been left behind in Storm’s End. She smiled at the thought but couldn’t shake the feeling of what to do with her time whilst stuck on this Island. Aemond didn’t seem to want to force her to spend time with him but rather to let her have her peace.

Aemond, she thought with a sigh. She had thought about him almost every day and she would only truly be lying to herself if she said she didn’t find him attractive as he has grown and she had to admit, the sapphire in place of where his eye once was only made him more alluring.

She groaned as her thoughts strayed. How could she think of him like that after the harm he caused her family? She shook her head to rid herself of her thoughts and decided to spend her time counting all of the fish that swam by in the clear waters before her.

-*-

He hadn’t been lying when he told his niece that wave a of chill came over this Island at night. He had made sure to find some goats to leave for Vaghar for the night and then proceeded to build a fire in the cave. He knew she would come in and join him eventually, especially when she heard the crackling of the fire.

The entire day he thought over and over what he would do with his niece. He could kill her. After all, a war was coming even if so many wanted to pretend otherwise. He couldn’t bring himself to even truly consider that possibility, though. She may be killed one day in battle or she may die of old age, either way, he would have no hand in it. He could carve out her eye and send it to her family on Dragonstone but that thought was quickly tossed away as well because as much as he told himself and her that he had taken her as payment for his stolen eye, it wasn’t true. He couldn’t mutilate her. He soon realized that he couldn’t bring harm to her in any way at all. He never wanted to. All his violent thoughts were reserved for her brothers and his sister.

When he curled his jacket into a ball and laid down on the blanket that he had stored in a pack on Vaghar’s back, his niece finally entered the cave. Her arms wrapped around herself and she shook silently. She looked at the fire and then at him.

“I won’t harm you, come here so you don’t freeze to death.” His whisper carried through the cave to her ears. She eyed him wearily and in return, he only patted the spot on the blanket beside himself. She moved slowly but once she felt the heat from the fire and the warmth from his body she quickly curled into him while facing the flames.

They lay there quietly. Both waiting for the other to say something first. In their silence, he couldn’t help but let his hand wander up to her silver hair that was facing him. It was curly unlike his, probably as a result of Leanor being her father, and his sister also had straight hair. His niece stiffened when he wrapped a long strand around his finger. When he let go he moved the rest of her hair off of her neck so that it pooled between her back and his chest.

Finally, he spoke, “I was going to ask if you wanted to be my betrothed that night.”

“What are you talking about?” She asked quietly but he could hear it in the way she said it, she already knew what he was talking about.

“The night I claimed Vaghar. I finally thought myself worthy of you. Before I was stopped I was headed to find you, to ask if you would ever consider being my betrothed.” He wasn’t sure what made him finally say it out loud. Maybe it was the fact that he had held it in for so long or perhaps it was the knowledge that she was to wed Cregan Stark and his childhood fantasies were soon to truly be snuffed out.

An awkward silence enveloped them and for a moment he thought she wasn’t going to say anything in return. When she did he thought his heart might have stopped at the words she spoke. “When we were children I thought we would one day be wed. Maybe it was wishful thinking on my part or maybe it truly could have happened.”

She was quiet for a moment and maybe it was because it was only the two of them on the island that she felt she could actually speak the truth. “I don’t want to marry Cregan Stark.”

He almost didn’t catch her whispered truth but when he did he asked quietly against her back, “what about what you told Borros Baratheon? Cregan Stark is an honorable man.”

“He is a perfect match for an ally, but I have never met him.” She replied. She then chuckled and said, “plus, I doubt I would like Winterfell very much. I’m sure it’s much colder there than it is here and I already feel as though I have turned to ice.”

He smiled despite the fact that she couldn’t see him.

She turned over so she was staring at him. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting to see in her lilac eyes. Maybe anger or hatred for stealing her away but instead her eyes held a softness as she looked at him. Without saying a word she brought her hand up to his cheek, to the bottom of the scar. When he flinched, she stopped her hand and didn’t continue her movements until he finally met her eyes and nodded. She pulled his eyepatch off of his head and he watched as she took him in.

He wasn’t sure what she was doing or planning but when she leaned in to kiss him gently on the lips he made sure to meet her halfway. When she pulled back a fraction of an inch she breathed against his lips and whispered something that made his cock harden in his breeches, “just for tonight we could pretend that things went right that night. We could pretend to be husband and wife, no one would know other than us and the stars.”

He was too stunned to speak and decided to not even try when his niece took a hold of his hand a brought it to her hip. She leaned in to kiss him again and this time it was far from chaste. Aemond grabbed her by the nape of her neck and held her closer to him and when she squealed in response he licked into her mouth to taste her. Just the taste of her mouth was addicting and Aemond doubted he could leave this to just this one night.

He moved away from her now swollen lips and kissed her jaw and down her neck. He made sure to squeeze her hip harshly before rolling her onto her back. He pulled away for a moment to look down at her and with the way her eyes were blown with lust, her cheeks tinted pink and her silver hair fanned out around her on the ground, he was sure that he had a goddess of Old Valyria underneath him.

She reached to untie his breaches at the same time he pushed her dress up her thighs. She was not wearing a corset, shedding herself of it before entering the cave. It only made pulling her dress off all that much easier. Aemond brushed her hand away from his breeches and dove down to suck at one of her hard nipples. He brought one hand up to cup her breast and play with her other nipple as he sucked on the other. Her skin was so soft and despite the cold, she was warm. His other hand ghosted down her body until it reached the apex of her thighs. When he brought his middle finger down to run through her slit that was soaked she arched up into the air as she choked out a moan.

He watched her face closely as he delved his finger into her. She had her eyes closed and her mouth shaped into a perfect ‘O’. Aemond let go of her breast and moved to kiss her again. He pulled away slightly, his lips brushing hers as he said, “you’re so fucking wet. So ready to take my cock, just like you were always meant to.”

She nodded her head vigorously and whined, “Aemond, please.”

“Please what, My princess?” He teased with a smirked ask as he slid another finger into her warm cunt. He growled lowly at the way she gripped his fingers and could only imagine how her cunt would feel around his cock.

“Fuck me,” she said breathlessly as she wiggled against his fingers. “Please.”

He smiled and pulled his fingers from her. He brought them to her mouth for her to taste herself and she didn’t waste time in sucking them.

“In all due time, my dear niece,” Aemond said as he slid down her body. “First I plan on learning what you taste like.”

Aemond gave her no time to respond before he grabbed both of her thighs and held them open and brought his tongue to her soaking wet cunt and dove his tongue into her folds. He listened to the sounds she made and when she grasped onto his hair, he latched onto her clit and sucked. She was a babbling mess as she ground her cunt onto Aemond’s face. Aemond only sat still with mouth open and let her take her pleasure. He listened and her moans filled the cave and when she came with his name on her lips he hesitantly detached her hands from his hair and moved his mouth back up to her lips. She was still panting when she leaned down to kiss her.

She still had her eyes closed and was panting as he quickly finished untying his breeches. He pulled them far enough down to free his cock and no further. When she opened her eyes she looked at her uncle and saw him fisting his cock while looking at her. Since they started this, it was the first time she felt hesitant. She was still a maiden and looking at the size of her uncle she couldn’t help but wonder how the stretch of his thick cock would feel inside of her.

He leaned over her, holding himself up with one of his arms beside her head and he used his other hand to guide his cock in between her folds. Her whole body tightened at the intrusion and Aemond kissed her gently on her cheek and whispered reassuring words until he was buried into her to the hilt. He fought everything in him not to move and to let her adjust to him before he fucked her. He brought his other hand down to massage her thigh as she breathed deeply. As soon as she nodded Aemond pulled out slowly and thrust back in at the same speed, watching her the entire time. When the pinched look melted off of her face Aemond began to thrust harder into her. Whatever he had imagined she might feel like around his cock was nothing compared to how it really felt. He buried his face into her sweaty neck and groaned and he started to truly fuck her. He felt her breast bounce against his chest and the sounds of her moans and their skin slapping together filled the cave.

When he started to feel a coil in his stomach, letting him know he was close to cumming he brought his fingers down to her clit and rubbed at the same pace as his thrusts. His niece clenched hard around his cock as she came with a squeal.

He pulled back from her and continued to thrust, his arms caging her in. He lowered his mouth to hers and whispered hoarsely, “I’m going to fill you up. Just like I’ve been dreaming of doing for years. I’m going to fill you with my seed and I’m going to keep fucking you until my seed takes.”

The surprised look on her face made him groan and spill inside of her. He laid down on top of her, not removing himself from inside of her as they both caught their breath.

After a few minutes, Aemond pulled away and pulled off his breeches which only made his niece whine. His smile was similar to that of a dragon looking down at its prey when she whine at the loss of his body on hers.

“Don’t worry dear niece,” He said and he turned her around to lay on her stomach. She turned her head to look back at him with confusion when she saw his cock was hard again, “I’m going to fuck you several more times before the sun comes up.”

-*-

The two of them had stayed on the island longer than either of them planned. When his niece suggested that they stay for a few more days just so they don’t have to deal with the immediate headache of the succession of the throne and the problems it has caused Aemond agrees without thought. Because as much as he has always done his duty to his family, he now he’s to spend every night with his cock buried deep inside his niece and he’s almost certain there is no better feeling.

Eventually, they find themselves staying on the island, watching as the moon makes its way across the sky. They find peace with each other and not having to be in the middle of courtly politics all day every day. It isn’t until the moon passes for its third rotation. That his niece begins to act strange. When he asks her what’s wrong she tells him she has yet to bleed since Aemond has taken them to this island. It isn’t hard to guess what she’s saying. Aemond has spilled his seed into her every night and she has stopped bleeding. There really is no other explanation other than she must be carrying his child.

When a large smile spreads across his face, she lets out a sigh of relief. He suggests that they mount Vaghar and go to King’s Landing where she will receive care from the maesters for the remanding months. He rambles on about how they can be wed and have a family all while his niece thinks back to her own family on Dragonstone. They must believe her to be dead. Her dragon must have returned without her and they could have only assumed the worst, especially if the Baratheons tell anyone of how Aemond had stolen her away. Her hand finds its way to her stomach which has yet to swell. What would her mother think about her carrying Aemond’s child? She knows that her mother wouldn’t be happy but she wouldn’t turn her back on her. Would she?

When Aemond notices quickly that she has checked out of the conversation and is holding her stomach protectively. He whispers reassurances into her hair that when they get to King’s Landing that she can write to her mother about what has happened. That when the maesters are done checking over her she can even go back to Dragonstone and have their child there because as much as he loves her and would love to be a father to their child, he understands if when they leave this island she might not want to be his bride.

He only smiles softly and tells him that of course, she’ll marry him and when they mount Vaghar and finally leave the island behind, the first thing they do when they arrive in King’s Landing (after Aemond explains everything to his mother and grandsire) is marry.

His new wife writes a letter to her mother and explains what happened. They wait for a response only for a moon later to have her dragon arrive in King’s Landing with a note tied to its saddle. When she pulls the letter off and looks at it she freezes as she reads the words.

Her mother has declared war. Believing her daughter to have been kidnapped and assaulted by the brother of the usurper to have been a plan of the greens, she won’t let it slide. Not after her daughter has been impregnated and forced to carry the child of their enemy.

When she hands the letter to Aemond, he places a protective hand on her stomach which has begun to slowly grow. When he flew to Storm’s End many moons ago, he knew a war was on the horizon but he had not expected that he would have a child that would not only need protection but would most likely be brought into it.

#house of the dragon #hotd #hotd smut #house of the dragon smut #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen smut #aemond targaryen x oc #aemond targaryen x reader

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bones4thecats · 6 months

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Adopting Their Fallen Enemy's Child (PT.3) ~ RoR/SnV x Child! Reader

Type of Writing: Poll Result Characters: Qin Shi Huang, Jack the Ripper, Sasaki Kojiro, & Child! Reader Name: Adopting Their Fallen Enemy's Child (PT.4) Original Poll Link: Here Other Parts: (PT.1), (PT.2), & (PT.3)

A/N: Okay, this is the final part of this series until the next few rounds of Ragnarok come out! Now, enjoy!!

●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・

👑 This guy never realized a small child watching his fight against the God of the Underworld, Hades

👑 So, when he heard many Gods yelling and the small footsteps of a child's, he spun himself around while Alvitr gasped and said your name

👑 Qin Shi Huang had a small soft spot for children, and whenever he saw one crying, he'd feel so bad for them, no matter their status

👑 But, he was the most sad for you...

👑 You looked completely different from your father, the only real things telling you guys were family was the leaf markings on your face and neck, your elf-like ears, and aura you both carried

👑 He paused and looked at his Valkyrie for some help, in which she just looked at you with pity before motioning her hand to you

👑 Qin sat down next to you as you bawled where your father once stood, asking him why he wanted to fight and why life wasn't being fair

👑 The Gods and Humans gasped as Qin laid your head on his lap, he patted your head as the medical staff came running out to you both

👑 When he awoke, he saw you laying on his chest while reading a small book the staff gave you

👑 He looked at you and pat your head, causing you to hug his good hand and try healing his two missing fingers, to which he said;

" I'm surprised you don't hate my guts because of what happened out there! It's quite amazing how calm you are despite the circumstances, kiddo! In fact, would you like to stay here and watch the next few rounds with me? I don't mind! "

●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・

🩸 Jack admired your father, Heracles, for who he was and the color he radiated, so when he felt another similar, yet smaller form running into the arena with a slight amount of fear, he froze

🩸 Humanity stayed silent as your tiny form ran out of the hallway and towards your crumpling father, crying his name

🩸 The killer and the warrior looked back and saw you, and your father chuckled, commenting on how stubborn you were

" Hey hun, don't worry about your old dad, okay? You'll see me again sometime! " " Don't lie to me, daddy! I can't stand it when you lie! "

🩸 Jack stared at you both witch a hint of sadness in his heart, but, he wondered, why did he feel this way? He never had before since he was a child

🩸 Heracles looked at Jack and alerted him with your name, making him look up from you and into your father's blue eyes, which were slowly turning green and breaking apart

" Take care of them for me, yeah? "

🩸 You looked at Jack when your father turned into nothing and sniffed as he stiffened, why would he entrust his child to someone who killed when alive?

🩸 Humanity erupted in protest, stating you should return to your family, in which you held your hands to your ears and ran to grab Jack's leg in fear, and he had to hold himself back from really making you scared

🩸 Whatever reason Heracles had for giving him guardianship of you must have been important, so, what kind of gentleman would dishonor the wish of a fallen warrior?

●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・

🌸 You watched your father get killed in front of you, you had every right to be upset at that human right now

🌸 Sasaki sat in the medical bay healing from your father's trident hits, and when he heard the distant calls of some of the Gods, he sat up in shock

🌸 Especially when his door burst open with a young child standing there, and when you closed it shut, his eyes widened when he really looked at you

🌸 Your outfit loosely resembled Poseidon's, from the tighter top to the charm around your waist and the cloth that fell down your legs

🌸 He looked at you and at the ground in shame, you must have been very upset with him, he had killed your father, but when you said the words that you said next, his heart jumped

" Do not worry, mortal man, I do not hate you for this. Rather, I dislike my father, he should have not engaged in such a puny battle against Humanity. And, I would like to apologize for his words, he wasn't the most pleasant man in Valhalla. "

🌸 Sasaki was officially shell-shocked

🌸 One would normally hate the one who killed their parent, but the way you just maturely confessed your true motive behind visiting him, it made him chuckle to himself

🌸 You were very daring, definitely taking after your father in that way, and the way you held yourself was very similar, making him looked back on the way your father looked up at where Zeus and Hermes laid

🌸 You must've been up there with your cousin and uncle watching

🌸 Sasaki smiled and offered you a seat by him, along with a drink, in which, after a long while of talking about his battle tactics, you asked him to adopt you, claiming your uncles, besides Hades, weirded you out

🌸 He chuckled at your bold question and nodded, stating;

" I would love to take you in as my own, dear heir of the sea. And while I'm not sure your family will be happy with this development, if you are alright with it, you may call me your father. "

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wlntrsldler · 4 months

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blurb based on this post.

pre-claiming, pre-betrayal, luke castellan x poseidon!reader, fluff.

while i bathe in cliffside pools with my calamitous love and insurmountable grief.

“rumor has it, capture the flag is coming up,” luke said. he was ripping blades of grass from beside him as his head laid on your stomach. he was facing the blue sky, letting the droplets of water roll off his bare skin.

you’d just emerged from your impromptu dip in the lake to escape the growing heat of summer. you had his camp shirt on top of your body, finding the faint scent of his cologne on the neckline of the shirt comforting. “already? they’re really trying to get us at each other’s throats as soon as possible.”

“yeah,” he scoffed. he rolled his head to face you. “it’s beth’s turn to come up with a strategy.”

there was pride in his eyes, like there always was when he talked about annabeth. you wondered if you had the same sparkle when you talked about her too. it was hard not to be proud of annabeth. after all, you’d known her since she was seven, when you, luke, and thalia found her wandering alone.

you tried not to think of those days too much. those days were painful and lonely; unfair that children were left to fend for themselves. even though you and luke were the oldest of the bunch, you were still just fourteen. at fourteen, you should’ve been dreading the perils of freshman year of high school, not wondering if you’d be fortunate enough to reach sixteen.

“how’s percy holding up?” you asked. your fingers tugged on a strand of hair that was bouncing back into his usual curls. you felt luke soften at your touch.

“he’s doing okay,” luke answered after a beat. “as well as anyone would be after finding out.”

“he’s a tough one, i can tell,” you replied. you attempted to move your hand from luke’s hair, but he held it in place. you complied, starting to rub his scalp. “has he been claimed yet?”

“no, he hasn’t.”

the topic of being claimed was a touchy subject for you as an unclaimed child. the first few months at camp, you had your hopes that your time was coming soon. your godly parent had to claim you eventually, right? but as the months turned into a year and a year turned into five, you lost all hope. somewhere along the way, you convinced yourself that you made peace with it.

luke, on the other hand, never did. there were many things he hated about the gods. most of it were general things that made sense; neglecting their children, having them do their dirty work, making them go on dangerous quests where they’re likely to get killed; but the thing that he hated them for the most was that they made you feel unworthy of being acknowledged.

to everyone else at camp, they saw you as someone who beat the odds despite not knowing who your godly parent was. you became a skilled swordsman, coming second only to luke, skilled at archery, and such an incredible leader, but luke didn’t attribute that to your godly parent. he attributed that to your character. your greatness had nothing to do with the gods.

but luke also knew you better than anyone else. he knew that even though you acted like you didn’t care about being claimed, there was still a part of you that stayed fourteen, that stayed hopeful, that one day your parent would claim you.

luke let his lips linger on your hipbone, a reminder that he was still there, as if trying to convince you that while your parent didn’t care enough to claim you, he did. he would shout it from every rooftop, if he could. in fact, on the trip to olympus, he stood at the top of the empire state building and declared his love for you.

chiron, who was forced to discipline him for his antics, banned him for getting dessert for two weeks, but sent you a sly wink as he was telling luke his punishment. you didn’t comment about how you managed to be given two desserts ‘accidentally’ everyday during luke’s punishment.

“we should probably head back soon,” you mumbled, though you made no effort to get up. luke snuggled deeper into you from where he laid. “it’s almost dinner.”

“yeah,” luke sighed. “you’re probably right.”

neither of you made it to dinner, but grover managed to sneak the both of you a handful of strawberries to eat.

#luke castellan #luke castellan x yn #luke castellan x y/n #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan fanfic #luke castellan one shot #luke castellan blurb #pjo #pjo fanfic #pjo tv show #pjo series #frances writes #frances song fics

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feasibilities · 2 months

Text

"Perhaps you should have some, clear your head."

Investigative Reports | Jonathan Crane x Journalist!Reader

Warnings: Non-Con, Drugging, Kidnapping, Dumbification, Bondage, Corruption, Pet Names, Hallucinations, Cockwarming, etc. Author's Note: I finally got around to writing this! This insane post got a lot of hilarious/supportive reactions, so thank you. I hope it really is The Most Disgraceful Fanfiction Ever Made.

“Would you like to see our treatment facility?” Jonathan inquired, smiling faintly.

“Of course. Where is it located?” You said, looking around curiously.

“The elevator will take us there.” Jonathan replied, guiding you inside. You wondered why he was so eager to show you this “facility”, but it would be good for your article on Arkham Asylum. You also noticed that his hand lingered on your lower back. You made a mental note of the floor being accessible by key only. The door opened to a poorly lit corridor with double doors at the toward the back. A sinking feeling in crept into your gut but you followed behind him anyway. He opened the doors to an underground sweatshop. You saw the faces of some of the criminals who mysteriously avoided being prosecuted.

“This is where we make the medicine.” Jonathan said. You quickly realized this was a trap. Why would he be willing to show you this if he would let you leave? A feeling of panic clawed at your internal organs but you stayed perfectly still.

“Perhaps you should have some, clear your head...” He said in a restrained tone, swallowing harshly. His icy disposition transformed into that of a monster. You ran for the elevator and frantically pressed the buttons. The doors never closed. You scurried out and ran down the hallway. You ducked into one of the empty holding cells. You saw a white bed with restraints. You hid in the corner behind it and held your breath. Tears rolled down your face as you blamed yourself for taking on this story.

“Ready or not, here I come.” A ragged, disorienting voice spoke. Your heart dropped as the voice was a complete contrast from the composed one you heard minutes ago. You covered your mouth to muffle any sobs. You heard his footsteps click down the corridor before they stopped in front of the cell you were in. You crouched to make yourself as small as possible. You saw a figure with a burlap mask over his head.

“Hmm, I wonder where she could’ve run off to.” Jonathan said sarcastically, knowing exactly where you were. Walking to your hiding spot, he stood over you.

“There you are, princess.” He cooed. He kneeled down and wiped your tears with his thumb. You cringed at his touch and tried to scoot away. He pulled you back and put a white cloth over your mouth and nose. Your struggling was useless. Blackness crept into your vision as you lost consciousness.

——

You woke up to an unfamiliar bedroom and a throbbing headache. This room was quite different from the dilapidated cell you fell asleep in. You didn’t recognize the pink silk nightie you had on. You were tucked in perfectly as well. You had little to no memory of the night before. Jonathan came in and shut the door behind him. Checking his watch, he smiled to himself.

“Just in time.” He said, sitting on the edge of the bed.

“What happened? My head is killing me.” You inquired, sitting up slightly.

“You had a fall and hit your head. I know how to make you feel better.” He said softly, pulling the comforter from your body. His smooth hands ran up your thighs.

“I-I don’t think this will help.” You hesitated.

“Of course it will.” Jonathan replied. You pushed his hands away and tried to cover yourself once more.

“I guess I’ll have to tie you up, darling.” He relented, retrieving rope from the nightstand. He removed your nightie and folded it neatly. He tied you in the Shibari style of the Star Harness with your arms bound. He covered your mouth with duct tape. He pulled you to the edge of the bed and bent you over. You cried desperately in hopes that he would stop.

“Shh. The more you struggle, the longer it lasts.” He hushed you, kissing the back of your head. He took in the sweet smell of your hair. You felt him slide into you slowly, whimpering at his size. His thrusts were slow but deep to the point of causing pain. Your knees buckled with each thrust.

“Already falling apart, hmm? Isn’t that sweet...” Jonathan purred, speeding up. You looked back at him with teary eyes. Jonathan kissed you over the duct tape on your mouth. Sounds of skin hitting skin filled the room. You clenched around him frenetically, earning cruel spanks from him. His glacial blue eyes bore into yours. A searing pain managed to reach your cervix as his movements grew careless. The rope he adorned you in began to scrape painfully against your skin.

“Want me to stop?” He teased. You nodded frantically. He pulled the tape off your mouth painfully.

“Please, sir.” You begged innocently, beginning to cry once more.

“Of course, my love.” He whispered, pulling out. He groaned at the sight of your arousal dripping down your legs. He took out a polaroid camera and snapped some pictures of you from behind. You turned away until he violently flipped you over. He put his middle & index fingers in your mouth.

“Smile, sweet pea.” He mocked, snapping one final picture. Setting the camera aside, he stared down at you with an esurient gaze. You shifted uncomfortably as you were still tied up. His fingertips grazed the tender burgeon of your nipple. Enjoying the sensation, you pushed your chest up into his hand. You mewled sweetly and batted your eyes.

“Don’t do that…” Jonathan said, barely holding it together.

“I can’t help it.” You whined, oblivious to his impending breakdown. He was fuming at the effect you had on him.

“Right.” Jonathan said, standing up and opening a drawer nearby. He grabbed a burlap mask and held it up for you to see.

“Remember this, hun?” He inquired, taking off his glasses.

“No, what is it?” You replied, furrowing your eyebrows.

Sliding it over his head, you froze in fear. You realized he was the man of your never-ending nightmares. You suddenly saw hallucinations of maggots and spiders crawling from the eye & mouth holes of his mask. The world around you started to spin nauseatingly. You closed your eyes tightly hoping it would all end quickly.

“I knew you would remember me, angel.” He said, speaking in the same ragged voice. He walked to you and untied the rope around your body. He began spreading your legs once more. You scratched, punched, and bit him to no avail. In actuality, your resistance was much weaker than you thought. The sedative he gave you drained you of any kind of physical strength.

“Help!” You screamed at the top of your lungs, hoping anyone could hear. Jonathan put a firm hand over your mouth and entered you once more. This time, his pace was sadistic and blistering. The headboard banged against the wall. You felt your bones shake with every motion. You screamed behind his hand until you had no voice to scream with. That familiar band of pleasure in your lower half finally broke. Your body convulsed wildly. He enjoyed seeing you unravel.

“Almost done, stay still.” He sneered, continuing his assault. Your mind was nearly blank from everything that was happening. Jonathan moved his hand from your mouth to your throat as he was getting close. Your fucked-out expression made his heart flutter. Suddenly, hot spurts of seed shot into you. His groans echoed through the bedroom. You felt some relief that it was over. Instead, he laid next to you and slid back in hastily. He wrapped his arms around you to keep you still. Your shaky hand clawed at them. A doused white cloth smothered you once more as you lost consciousness.

“Sweet dreams.” He whispered, holding you close.

#don't look!#my writing #cillian murphy #jonathan crane #jonathan crane x reader #jonathan crane x you #dc scarecrow #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy fanfiction #batman begins

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