#and his eyes are the colour of a bird of prey | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

jasonsmirrorball · 6 months

Text

OCTOBER 31ST: I HUNT FOR YOU WITH BLOODIED FEET ACROSS THE HALLOWED GROUND JASON TODD

kinktober prompt: monsterfucking | kinktober masterlist

synopsis.your lover's got a secret. you'd never imagine you would find yourself running through central park for it.

cw: f!reader, monsterfucking, predator/prey, exhibitionism, semi-public sex, cunnilingus, piv sex, creampie, minor dubcon, rough sex, established relationship, aftercare, slight bratty reader minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact you will be blocked

It doesn’t start out this way.

Crashing through the thick of trees on Halloween night in a pair of flimsy shoes that were definitely not made for running, getting scratched up by the whip of tree branches and near stumbling over overgrown roots wasn’t something you’d foreseen when you were dressing for this date.

You can feel your heart in your throat, nausea swirling in your gut as you fumble your way through the woods of Central Park, moonlight thin and whispery through the dense foliage, the trees packed closely together to prevent much getting in–or getting out, you think darkly.

Your feet slam clumsily into the dirt, and another lance of pain blooms across your arm as your push past thin branches. Your eyes have adjusted somewhat, but the eerie ghostland is dense and gnarled trees and twisted branches alike reach out to snag on your clothing. They scrape along your arms and legs, and you grit your teeth with every bite, the promise of what is waiting spurring you on.

Behind you sounds crashing footsteps not far behind and you hold back a whimper when you hear the snap of jaws. You can see the slobbery maw in your mind, a row of gleaming white teeth, canines sharp enough to tear you into two.

The thick grove gives way suddenly, emptying into a clearing and you stumble into the center. The moonlight pours unrelentingly over you, silver wrapping around you in a mockery of a lover’s embrace–you do not feel safe, but exposed and bare. You feel desperate as you step further into the glade, pine rustling beneath your feet. The air has suddenly grown very still, and you can no longer hear the heavy steps of your pursuer. You track the treeline, eyes straining peering into the darkness. Only shadowy outlines, ever shifting and curling, peer back.

Seconds pass. Not a bird’s call, or the snap of a twig reach your ears. Only your heart, thundering in its cage. You turn on your heel, circling as you try to determine which direction to go.

And then–there. Opposite the direction you had come from (how had he gotten there so fast?) twin rings of green peer at you through the black, flashing red for the briefest moment. You freeze, staggering back and willing your legs to move faster. They carry you right back where you entered, bursting back into the dark and blinding you momentarily once more.

It is a mistake.

You round a tree and before your foot has landed behind you, large, claw tipped hands are circling around you. Your scream rings into the trees and you struggle in vain against the large body that topples you to the ground.

A mouth presses to your jaw, teeth scraping against the skin, and in your ear a voice growls,

“Caught you.”

An assortment of colourful flowers greet you when you open your apartment door, and you look from them to the face behind them, gasping delightedly.

“Are these for me?”

“Hello to you, too, sweetheart,” Jason mutters wryly, but the smile on his face is fond and you move back to let him inside, accepting the bouquet happily. “Yes, these are for you.”

You coo, pressing your nose to the petals and delighting in the silk soft feel, breathing in.

“Jason, they’re gorgeous. Thank you.” Adjusting them in your arm, you lean up to kiss his jaw affectionately. You trace the bloom of red on his face with a smile, and look back down to the flowers. “What’s the occasion?”

“There’s gotta be an occasion?” he jokes and you roll your eyes, moving further into the apartment to find a vase. He follows on your heels into the kitchen, opening the cabinet for you and retrieving the pretty glass blue vase you’re so fond of as he explains. “I wanted to say sorry. I know I’ve not been around as much lately–”

Ah.

You had only been seeing Jason for a few months now. Enough to have grown fond of him, and miss him in the moments in between, but not very long in the grand scheme of things.

To his credit, Jason was wonderful. He opened doors and pulled out chairs. He’d even offered you his jacket when you’d been unprepared for the weather, and in such a gallant display that you’d wondered who exactly had raised him. He did all the right things, and unthinkingly.

It was unexpected, the gentleness with which he handled you. It was always sweet presses of his mouth to yours, unassuming and chaste, the careful intertwining of fingers or an arm around your waist in a busy crowd. Never harsh, never obtrusive or demanding. It had been shocking in the beginning, that such a powerfully built man–all hard lines, strong muscle ad scar-flecked–should be so… docile.

You felt rather as though you’d gained an tamed doberman. Walking down the street with him, you received no shortage of looks, wary and otherwise. You didn’t know how to explain to the curious passersby that your boyfriend couldn’t hurt a fly. The most aggression you’d ever seen him express had been against a stubborn vegetable that evaded his fork, for crying out loud.

But…

Sometimes, and only sometimes, you swore there was something in his eyes. It had always felt like a trick of the light, looking over to your boyfriend in the middle of something only to find him watching you already, lips parted and something eerily like hunger in his eyes. It was there one moment, and gone the next, expression relaxing into a familiar affectionate grin.

The only problem you really had was the disappearances.

You weren’t a clingy girlfriend. You weren’t. Perhaps, occasionally, you sought out Jason’s company more, but you felt fairly comfortable in your assessment that you were (mostly) well adjusted enough to not mind being around him all the time.

But every month, for a few days, he would become totally unreachable. You would be hard pressed to receive even a text from him, let alone a phone call or visit. The first time it had happened was in the beginning stages of your relationship, when things were sparkly new and still tentative, so you’d brushed it off as him not wanting to seem too overeager.

And he’d seemed so sorry about it, looking so worn when he’d shown up at your door to explain. Work, he’d cited, and you’d believed it. Why wouldn’t you? He had looked exhausted, weary and in much need of some deep rest. You’d let him in easily enough. You remember the way he’d curled his body around you that night, deep in sleep and refusing to let you go.

And then it happened again. And then again.

Your friends had suspected infidelity. Maybe he has a wife, one had said jokingly but you’d shaken your head despite the drop of your stomach, guilt curdling at the image of some poor woman sleeping peacefully while her husband–no, it had to be something else.

It had to be.

Jason who in the time you’d known him, had never so much as looked at anyone else. Who’d shown up to your apartment with soup and changed the sheets when you’d fallen sick last month. Jason who held you like you were the thing most precious to him.

There was a secret. This was for sure, but you couldn’t imagine it to be a wife, or partner otherwise. What else could leave him out of commission and exhausted for a couple days every month?

What else had contributed to the collection of scars?

“–and I know I’m here but I thought I wouldn’t be able to make it tonight, either and I know you were really looking forward to it–I was too! I don’t know, I just wanted to make it up to you.” He rambles uncertainly, teal eyes scanning yours carefully for a reaction.

You stare up at him. Late spring and Jason looks as though he’s returned from the deep midwinter. You can see the lines around his eyes, shadows smudged beneath rings of teal and his handsome face is slightly pale.

“You sure you’re okay, baby?” you ask, gently, instead of answering his question. You raise a hand to cradle his cheek and he leans into the touch, eyes slipping closed with a sigh. “You look a bit tired.”

The flowers in your arms rustle as you move them to the vase, ferns swaying with the movement. There are creases in the brown paper when you pull it away, placing the stems carefully into the water, one by one. Next to you, Jason leans against the counter.

“Just…a rough few nights,” he admits, and you nod. He scratches the back of his neck. “I haven’t really been sleeping well.”

“I’m starting to see that,” you mumble, turning to him fully. His arms flex under your hands when you place them there, wrapping around your waist in turn and pulling you closer. He drops his head onto your shoulder, letting out a heavy sigh and concern sparks in your chest. “Are you sure you’re up to going out tonight? We could stay in.”

“Nah, baby,” he murmurs, kissing your neck absently. It’s more of a brush of his lips, unthinking, and you think he might not even have meant to. “Let’s go out. Fresh air’ll do me some good. ‘Sides…”

He pulls away to look down at you, dimpling broadly. “You’re all dressed up.”

You flush at that, mumbling halfhearted protests but he’s having none of it, pressing his mouth to yours and subsequently shutting you up. You’re dazed when he pulls away, and he grins a little smugly, like a child who’s won their argument and you want to pinch him but he’s ushering you out of the door before you can.

The afternoon is balmy as you walk down the street, the approach of summer hanging in the air. You slip your arm around his and Jason showers you with an indulgent smile, one that makes your toes curl, so sweet you can taste it on your tongue.

He leads you to a cafe and you split dessert, trying to hold back your sigh when he holds out a piece of cake for you on his fork. It’s easy to feel lovesick like this, butterflies creeping in to replace the dread that had plagued you the last few days when Jason had begun to take longer and longer to reply between texts. He’s dappled in sunlight and feeding you cheesecake, and you can’t help but to lean forward and take it.

Not once does he glance at his phone during the date, lying facedown on the table beside his glass of water. You remain at the centre of his attention, teal gaze softened and syrupy as he tells you about his week, as he listens to you talk about yours.

He plies you with dessert and sneaks a kiss just to make you laugh. You look at him and think, what is it you’re keeping from me?

You hope to heaven it isn’t a wife.

The evening crawls upon the day as you’re walking through Central Park, leaning into his side as the skies above you bleed into soft pinks and blues, gold cutting through the clouds and pooling in patches of grass. You step through the rays, feeling warm in the face when Jason’s face takes on an immeasurably fond expression, fingers clutching yours.

He nudges you with his shoulder and you look up.

“You doing okay? You’re quiet.”

“Just thinking,” you offer, and looking around, you point at a grassy patch, further away from the spaces occupied by families and other lovers. “Let’s sit here.”

You run a hand over the spot before lowering yourself onto the ground, patting the spot beside you. Despite the flush of late spring, the grass is dry and without any dew. You lay down and grin when Jason remains propped on an elbow above you.

The sunlight is soft and haloes around his head, strands of amber filtering through his dark hair. He reaches out to touch your cheek with a finger and your eyelids flutter under the touch, a soft breath passing your lips when he skims underneath your eye.

“So pretty,” he murmurs and heat blooms in your face. You keep your eyes shut, bashful, but your lips twitch in an effort to contain your grin. A moment later, warmth sparks against them and you sigh once more into Jason’s mouth, reaching up to card your fingers through his hair.

You open your eyes and he’s a little blurry above you, golden and green eyed, the faintest smattering of freckles across the bridge of his broken nose. He’s close, nose pressing against yours, taking up the entire span of your vision.

“Hi,” you whisper, and his breath skitters across your cheek when he laughs.

“Hi, beauty,” he whispers back. He pulls back a little and you admire the flush on his face, pink cheeked and bright-eyed. “What’re you thinking about?”

You stare at him a moment longer, before sitting up, too. Taking his hand in yours, you turn it over to trace his palm as you gather your thoughts.

“Jason, I…” you wet your lips, a little nervous. “I wanted to ask you something.”

His eyebrows draw together in concern and he nods, free hand coming to cradle your jaw reassuringly. “Anything.”

In the distance, the sky has begun to darken further and you watch as one by one, the park lights begin to flicker on, lanterns strewn over the grassy knoll glowing orange and casting beams of light that sway with the wind’s touch.

“I don’t know how to say this,” you admit and his head tilts. “Is there…something going on with you?”

His shoulder tense almost imperceptibly and dread curdles in the pit of your stomach. Your mouth dries and against his palm, you can feel your hand beginning to tremble.

“I just feel like there’s something you’re not telling me,” you force out. A breeze rustles through the grass and over your skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. Jason remains unmoving, eyes fixed on your face.

“What do you mean?”

You frown at him. The question sparks something in you, disbelief curling your mouth downwards. Jason stares at you quizzically, almost innocent in the wide eyed stare he gives you, but you’ve caught onto him. The muscle beneath your hand has stiffened, and his palms have grown warm.

“Jason. Are you serious?”

“Deadly,” he replies, and you scoff, pulling your hand away from him.

“Every single month, you’re gone for a few days and I can’t reach you at all. You look tired when I see you, and you say it’s just work but that’s not work-tired, and don’t think I haven’t noticed the numerous injuries you’ve been hiding from me.” You list them off, one by one, and watch the muscle in his cheek jump. “My friends think you’re cheating on me, but I don’t think that’s it, is it?”

Still he says nothing, and you laugh bitterly, climbing to your feet. Shaking your head, you mumble, “I don’t know what I was thinking.”

There’s a grove of trees nearby that line the edges of the park, the path winding alongside the perimeter marking where you’d come from and you make your way there, ignoring the lump in your throat. Your dress flutters around your legs as you stomp across the grass, pressing your palms to your face in an effort to cool down.

You’ve only taken a few steps away from Jason and it gives you range to hear the hiss of breath he lets out and the rustle of clothing behind you as he calls out, “Baby, wait.”

It infuriates you how calm he manages to sound, resigned even, as though he’s decided to come clean. Unfortunately for him, you’re in no mood to hear it, only speeding up as you walk away from him.

“Sweetheart.” A hand comes around your elbow and you whirl around, almost spitting as you look up at him. He refuses to let go of you, eyes beseeching. “Hey, I’m sorry. Will you let me explain?”

“What, you’ve finally thought of an excuse?” you retort, trying again to pull away from him. He sighs.

“No. You’re right, I was keeping something from you. Will you let me tell you the truth?”

It’s curiosity that wins out, and you lift your chin haughtily, a silent command. He looks as though he’s biting back a smile at the reaction but acquiesces anyway. He looks around the both of you, hand slipping from your elbow to your waist, and you follow his gaze.

The space to your right, where you’d both sat, had been on the edges of the park and further away from the crowds that had gathered after school and work. To your left is the thick wood, dim and poorly lit under the blackening sky. Jason’s mouth twists contemplatively, and then he’s guiding you further into the trees. You stop at the treeline, a question on your lips.

“I’ll explain, I just,” he hesitates. “It’s best if nobody else hears.”

“God,” you mutter, horrified. “Did you kill someone?”

His eyes widen and he begins to shake his head. “What? No! Shit, sweetheart, I just meant–it’s a different kind of secret.”

You pause, uncertain. He waits, the warmth of his hand bleeding through the fabric of your dress. He’s nervous, you realise, gauging his expression. His mouth curves downward as he anticipates your choice. Will you stay, or will you go with him?

His eyes shine, and you’re reminded of who it is you’re talking to. A breath passes, and then you’re stepping forward.

“Fine. Explain.”

His shoulders slacken, gratitude brimming in his eyes as the two of you move further into the treeline.

“I didn’t know how to bring it up, I had to be careful,” he says, stepping over a root and offering his hand out. You take it, gathering the skirt of your dress in your other hand and crossing over it.

The forest is greyed, weak moonlight filtering in through the leaves and you brush closer to Jason when somewhere nearby you hear the flap of wings.

“Careful?” you question. “Jason, I don’t understand.”

“I didn’t wanna scare you, baby, you’ve gotta understand,” he says softly, holding your hand. “I didn’t want to overwhelm you.”

He stops, and guides your hand to his chest. Heat pulses through his clothing, warming your palm in the chilly evening. You look up and startle when for a moment, his eyes almost seem to glow.

“What…”

“Those times you were talkin’ about, I didn’t want to ignore you, I just–I physically couldn’t, sweetheart,” he starts, contrite. A big hand comes to brush against your cheek gently. “Usually, it isn’t so bad, but the shift–”

He pauses, and you manage to get the impression that somehow through the dark he’s picked out the confusion on your face.

“Shift?” you mutter.

“Here, it’s easier if I show you,” he sighs, and then pauses, hands cradling your face firmly now. “But sweetheart, you–you have to try to stay calm, okay?”

You swallow, tipping your head in an absent nod. Shift. Just what have you gotten yourself into, now, you wonder.

You turn your head back in the direction from which you came, the light faint in the distance, just as you hear a sick, snapping sound, and all of a sudden the very air around you shifts. Your muscles lock as you look back slowly.

You have to dig your teeth into your lip harshly to stifle the whimper in your throat. The air from your lungs expels suddenly, and you feel lightheaded, swaying on the spot.

In the place you’d just seen Jason, he–it?–stands, a foot taller than your already tall boyfriend, towering over you. He’s broad, impossibly so, and your eyes having adjusted to the dim light, fall to the claw tipped hands, coarse hair covering the back of his hands and the sharp nails that curve downwards.

You raise your eyes nervously, and taste blood in your own mouth when you spot the canines, his jaw slackened to reveal a mouth full of sharp teeth, wolfish and a warning in their own right.

Luminous green eyes watch you carefully, tracking your movements. You can see the traces of your lover in his face, cheekbones covered by thick hair and most startlingly, his ears have elongated, pointed and tipped in fur.

Your lips part and try to form words but your voice fails you, trembling as you try again.

“...Jason?”

His ears perk up as if in recognition and he holds out a clawed hand, lumbering forward. You shrink back, but there is relief in your chest nonetheless that he maintains control of his faculties.

“Don’t be scared,” he rumbles and your knees weaken at the gravel in his tone, voice deeper. It’s almost comical, if not for how very real it all is.

“How long?” you whisper, shuddering. You can hear your heartbeat in your ears, blood roaring with each pulse.

Powerful shoulders roll, as though shrugging. “Since I was 15.”

“You were–” Your fear is swallowed by a rush of grief, wanting to reach out but staying your hand. You think about your boyfriend at fifteen, the photos you’d caught a glimpse of, still chubby cheeked and childish, lopsided smile and unruly curls. You think of teeth and you think of blood, and your stomach drops. “You were turned?”

“Sweetheart…it was a long time ago,” he says quietly. He takes one step closer, and you let him brush against your hair, staying still as his claws stray close. “So. Is this explanation enough?”

“This is why you’ve been going ghost on me?” you mutter, tilting your head up.

“Full moon takes a few days to recover from,” he affirms, tilting his head up. You let out a miserable laugh, covering your face. “I can get a bit aggressive too–What?”

“I thought you were in a fucking gang,” you choke out through your giggles and he lets out a startled sound. You wipe your eyes, breathing out raggedly.

Taking him in now, you feel comfortable enough to step closer, hand hovering over his face. He leans down into your touch wordlessly, head bowing and you take in the warmth of his skin, thick hair covering his jaw. Your fingers brush by the corner of his mouth and you meet his eyes, questioning. Is this okay?

He stays still and you touch his lips, your own parting to mirror him. His teeth gleam and you press the pad of your thumb against the point of his canines, light enough that he doesn’t cut you, but you can feel the danger in the curve of the bones. It thrums under your skin, to be so close to something capable of killing you, to trust him not to.

Jason allows you to run your fingers along his lips and teeth, saliva gathering on the tip of your thumb and pooling in his mouth. As though in a trance, something else settles in your bones and you slip your thumb out, dragging his bottom lip. He lowers his head as you gravitate closer and in an imitation of a kiss, you brush your mouth against his. Your senses are heady, the curtain of the forest around you drawing a veil over the both of you, and you repeat the motion, tongue darting out to flick against his mouth.

He shudders, and you realise just how large he is, eclipsing your body with his own in the dark. A musky smell hangs around you, salt and pine and earth mingling with Jason’s scent and filling your lungs.

“Sweetheart, we can’t,” he rasps. At your waist, you feel the brush of talons against your thin dress and the hair on the back of your neck stands on end. Still, you press further into his embrace.

“Why not?”

“‘S…’s different,” he pants when you touch his chest. “Don’t wanna hurt you…might lose control.”

“I trust you,” you tell him, looking at him through your lashes and he groans, dropping his head to your neck, breathing in deeply.

“Don’t–fuck, don’t say that, sweetheart,” he pleads, a voice lowering dangerously.

“I just want to make you feel better,” you run your hand up to his neck, a few inches away from where a recently healed scar curves around him. “You were all alone, and I didn’t know. Let me make you feel good.”

He gasps, wrenching himself away and you watch his pupils expand, onyx swallowing green until only a sliver remains. His hands curl into fists, and he shudders, head dropping to take a breath before he looks up at you and gasps,

“Run.”

Jason hauls you into his arms and you scream, only for a large hand to clap over your mouth as he carries you back to the glade, moonlight pouring over the both of you. You squirm but his arms are leaden around you, tight and unforgiving. Above you is the sound of his ragged breathing and you chance a look upwards to find saliva tipped fangs, the hunger in his eyes only an amplified version of all the secret glances you’d caught before.

He lowers you both down to the ground, and you try to crawl away but are immediately wrestled back, pinned to the grass and caged in by his large form. Your dress is long past salvageable, and you can feel the earth smudge into your arms as he lowers his mouth to yours, tongue laving against your neck where your exertion has left traces of sweat. You squirm, and his hips only press further into you, a thick bulge against your stomach that has your mouth drying.

Teeth snap against your neck, dangerous and warning, and yet you find your whimpers not entirely spurred on by fear, tilting your head to bare the skin to him.

“Don’t.” The warning is issued so strictly, no room left for argument that you look back to him obediently and he snuffles at your jaw, nipping as gently as he can. Small sparks of pain bloom in his wake, and you wiggle under him.

He snarls again, and you exhale tremulously when he jostles you. “Behave.”

You bite your lip, a grin threatening to break free. Adrenaline rushes through your veins and your heart races in your ears as you lean your face up to his and whisper,

“Make me.”

A deafening silence follows in the wake of your words, not for the first time tonight, but it’s of a different kind. The air trembles with the weight of what is to come, and Jason blinks once, then twice, before his eyes narrow and his maw curls up into a snarl then–

You’re manhandled onto your stomach before you can think, hips pulled up and a hand pressing to the small of your back to press your chest into the dirt. Your gasp is swallowed by the sound of fabric, your skirts tugged up viciously and underwear tugged off without a second thought, baring your pussy to him.

A second passes, and your legs tremble under your weight, anticipation turning your blood molten. And then a warm, wet tongue is pressed flat against your cunt, and you buckle forward, a scream caught in your throat as Jason begins to feast on you in earnest. He’s savage and messy in his movements, lashes of his tongue unforgiving against your clit and folds, growls rumbling in his chest as his laves at your heat.

Your moans ring in the forest air, hips attempting to rock against his tongue but he holds you firm in his grasp, talon tipped fingers digging into the fat of your thighs to keep you still for him. He lets out an unrestrained breath, panting loudly into your wetness. He laps at your pussy desperately, filthy sounds trailing up from behind you.

“Jason,” you choke out brokenly, nails scrabbling for purchase in the grass but only sinking into the dirt, and he grunts in response.

“So fuckin’ wet f’me,” he grumbles, sucking your clit into his mouth. You catch the graze of his teeth against your thigh, but he’s careful as he eats you out, uncontained as he is. “Gonna fuck you. ‘S that what you want? Huh?”

“Y-es!” you cry, tears trickling down your cheek into the grass, and you feel him pull away. You whine at the loss, only to feel his chest curve over your back, and something prod at the entrance of your pussy.

He’s large, that much you can tell, and you feel your lungs empty as the head of his cock pushes into you, stretching you out dizzyingly. Your mind goes blank as he feeds himself into you, every added inch only adding to the fullness you feel. Your pussy sucks him in, slick coating his length as he rocks into you.

When at last he’s seated fully inside, he gives you only a moment to breathe, leaning down to murmur into your ear, darkly amused, “Remember that you asked for this.”

And then he slams his hips against you, picking up a pace that has you gasping for breath, helpless. You can only lie there and take it, sobbing as his cock drags along your walls, catching all the right spots and sending shocks of pleasure eddying in your stomach. It feels utterly filthy, the way he fucks you, mounting you like an animal–and you suppose he is, you think absently, before another wave of heat washes over you.

Everything falls away from you. The park, the city, until all that’s left is you and him in the moonlit grove. Jason takes, and takes, so far from the sweet boyfriend you know, near feral with the ferocity he fucks you. And yet, you can’t say that he neglects you, one large hand reaching around to press into your stomach and circle your clit, tongue returning to the curve of your neck and shoulders. He holds you tight, so much so that all you feel is him. He encompasses all your senses, and when his thrusts begin to grow sloppier, you feel yourself approaching your own climax, hips twisting his loosening grip to rock back against him.

“Gonna–” he bites out. “Gonna come. Y’gonna come for me, pretty?”

“Uh huh,” you whine. Your breathing runs thin, and your eyes roll back when he thrusts next, full and desperate. “Please–please Jason!”

“Come f’me then,” he barks, and you crest with a mangled scream, feeling yourself clamp down on him, pussy contracting tightly. He chokes out a groan and you can feel him faltering, hips stuttering against yours and arms tightening once more as he holds you in place.

A warmth floods you with his thrusts as he comes, spilling inside you with a snarl and rough slap of his skin on yours. He doesn’t stop as he finishes, fucking the both of you through your orgasms, more so his than yours. You can feel the spend spilling from you, your thighs sticky with cum, dripping down your flesh and pooling on the ground below you. He pants above you, breath hot against your ear and you whine when he finally settles, coming to a stop still sheathed in you.

Above you, the waxing moon shines brightly onto the glade and when you open your eyes, silvery light paints your outstretched arm. Still on top, Jason’s hand, now beside your head, is similarly encased.

“You alive?” he pants and you exhale in response, turning your head to look at him. He grins at you, mouth still open, and you purse your lips. Obediently, he lowers his head to kiss you gently and you hum, content. “Satisfied, little thing?”

“Very,” you sigh, stretching out as he shifts above you. Pulling out, the both of you hiss at the loss, and you feel acutely just how much he’d filled you with, more spilling out of you. You roll over and look at him, his eyes staring between your legs with a look of growing hunger and when he lifts his head to look at you, you shake your head, breathing out a laugh. “No. No way. You’ve wrecked me for the night.”

He grins teasingly, head tilting as he gathers you into his arms. “And whose fault is that, hm?”

You widen your eyes, shrugging. “Beats me.”

“Brat,” he huffs, nipping your cheek and you giggle, pushing him away.

“Get off, you brute,” you squeal, and he laughs, only nosing into your space further. Moonlight douses him in silver, and you brush a hand over his cheek when he pulls away. He leans into your touch, smooths his fingers over your side.

“Gotta get you cleaned up, angel,” he mutters and you nod.

“Stay the night with me?” you ask shyly, and you watch his eyes soften, crinkling at the corners.

“‘Course, baby,” he assures. “Here, let me just–”

He cleans you up as best as he can, reaching for a napkin from the depths of his jacket, and you watch his features recede, hair softening and shrinking until Jason, human once more, stares back at you.

“Hi.”

“Hi,” you murmur sweetly, knocking your forehead against his.

“Happy?” he asks, and you hum, wrapping your arms around him and twirling the hair at the nape of his neck. His eyes brighten, emerald in the moonlight and you think that he’s what you treasure most in this world.

“Relieved,” you say and at the quirk of his brow you explain. “Told you, I thought you were in a gang, or cage fighting.”

“And this is better?” he questions archly, pinching at your sides teasingly.

“Well, I can’t complain about the sex,” you say primly.

He laughs, the sound ringing through the glade, and it’s the most beautiful sound you’ve ever heard.

whew. it's finally here. the final installment of the lazy girl's kinktober series and the longest of them all (only by 500 words tbh but it's an important distinction to me). i hope you all enjoyed this, i definitely had an interesting time trying my hand at writing smut. i think i've still got such a long way to go, but i hope it was enjoyable nonetheless.

it's technically november 1st as i'm posting this here, and likely for most places too, which i apologise about. the last few days have been a little rough and i've been avoiding all commitments in order to wallow. this piece is also unedited, so forgive me for any grammatical errors etc. i will try to come back and edit them but in the meantime, thank you for sticking with me this far! it's been a fun month and i'm excited to get back to the requests in my inbox and my other projects!!

#jay my heart #jasonsmirrorball #jason todd smut #jason todd x reader #jason todd fanfiction #jason todd imagine #jason todd fic #x reader #ro's kinktober '23 #kinktober 2023

271 notes · View notes

kindasleepywriter · 3 months

Text

Bird of Prey ~ Chapter 9: A Game of Shadows

Bird of Prey masterlist. Azriel x Reader.

Chapter summary: A morning coffee with Azriel turns more perilous than you expected.

Story rating: Mature - Minors DNI

Warnings: None

Word count: 1.6k

Prev | Next

No matter what your feelings about the city were, you had to admit that Velaris was enchantingly beautiful. The damage the citizens were still in the process of repairing didn’t diminish the vibrancy of the pleasant houses, shops and cafés that still lined the cobblestone streets. An air of peacefulness enveloped the city, too, despite its inhabitants’ constant coming and going.

Azriel had taken care to choose a small rooftop café, mindful of your preference to hide from view of the street below and its buzzing crowds. Even though Azriel wasn’t a man of many words, and you were evidently still warming up to the idea of revealing more about yourself, you’d found yourself pleasantly surprised at how easy conversation had flowed between the two of you.

You could frequently see shadows sneaking up to curl behind one of his ears, no doubt informing him as usual of any peculiar or interesting activity that could be found in the area. You wondered how he coped with their ceaseless song. Perhaps that was one of the reasons for his silence, you realized, especially in a group setting. Following along with the chatter of a conversation while listening to the constant stream of information had to require a practiced ability at multitasking.

Those same shadows rested on your arm and nape of your neck, and you had a feeling that would be often the case if you spent time in the Shadowsinger’s company. When you’d spent time in his company, you thought to yourself, since you wouldn’t flee. You wouldn’t. You repeated the words like a mantra in the back of your mind, trying to prevent your habits from taking over like they always did.

Nevertheless, unease increasingly made its presence known as the morning progressed. You couldn’t shake the idea that this near-perfect scene couldn’t last. Even if you were a master at hiding your every tell, you had a suspicion that Azriel noticed, though he decided not to comment on it.

You excused yourself to the restrooms, hoping to calm yourself with the help of some cold water and breathing exercises. Your thin boots slid across the café with little sound, the few people present glancing at you and quickly avoiding your gaze when you met their eyes, no doubt turning back in your direction the second you looked away. Your unease was growing tenfold at each step you took. You felt exposed.

You could almost hear the warning as the cool mid-morning breeze grazed against the back of your neck, sending a shiver down your spine. Turn back, it said in a whistle. Then, hide.

You dismissed it as paranoia, well familiar with your tendency to overreact. You continued forward into the long corridor leading to the restrooms, thankful for the separation from curious eyes. Your mind hadn’t stopped its warnings, now louder: Hide. Turn back. Leave. As you turned the final corner before the restroom doors, your heart stopped. The only thing you saw before immediately spinning on your feet was short hair the colour of a blazing fire that you’d recognize anywhere, slowly climbing up the stairs. You felt time slow around you, the cold rush of adrenaline burning through your veins. That man was a Vanserra, you would bet your life on it. What was one of them doing here, roaming the city as casually as any visitor? Was the Night Court allied with that family? Had your presence here gotten out, was he here for you?

You frantically looked around. There was no place to hide that you could get to in time. The corridor was completely barren and too long for you to make it out before he turned the corner behind which you currently stood. Shit, shit, shit.

You rushed as far as you could before leaning against the wall, crushing your wings behind you in a fruitless effort to hide them, and curled your shoulder inwards as you stared at the wall in front of you. You were hoping he might ignore the sight of some shy woman who looked like she might be waiting for someone, but you knew he’d notice you.

Damned be your wings and their size, their too bright color. What you would do just to melt into the wall, to be able to winnow away, anything! Your temperature only got worse, you felt frozen to the core. You waited, praying the man had changed his mind, and went back down the stairs.

The Mother had never answered your prayers before, and she made no exception to that rule.

Your heart was beating like a hummingbird’s in your chest as the man turned the corner, carrying himself with the same haughty demeanour he’d shown since the moment you met him. Eris. You felt your vision darken at his approach, your panic drowning you. You were breathing too fast.

You took a quiet deep breath just before he came in reaching distance. His steps slowed to a stop, and he glanced around the corridor. This was it, you realized, the moment you’d be discovered, the moment you’d be sent back to autumn. They wouldn’t give you the chance to escape them again.

When his head turned towards yours, you held your breath, as still as stone, and braced for the inevitable. His stare passed to you… but he held no reaction. Didn’t he recognize you? It had been centuries, yes, but he wasn’t one to forget a face. Or these wings.

His eyes looked… they look unfocused. His gaze slid over you like you weren’t even there, passing over you like you’d been nothing but brick and stone.

The realization hit you: he wasn’t looking at you. He was looking through you. He couldn’t see you standing there.

Eris let out an annoyed huff and continued.

You looked down at yourself, almost expecting to have well and truly melted into the wall as you had prayed before, but you only barely stopped a loud gasp from escaping you when you were instead met with a cloud of shadows covering you. They were calmly maintaining a barrier of darkness, only a few of them trailing the man as he disappeared out of sight. The second you were out of Eris’ view, most of them dissolved into the ground, as if burrowing back to wherever they’d come from. Safe, you heard, before they scattered into smoke. They’d been the ones to warn you.

Had Azriel done this? Were his shadows so fast that he’d been able to react in time? The entire ordeal had taken only a few seconds and, while you knew they were quick, you hadn’t thought they were that fast.

As if summoned by your thoughts, you saw Azriel quickly run into the corridor. He rushed over to you and brought his hands to your shoulders as he assessed you from head to toe, seemingly searching for injuries. You didn’t let a second pass and grabbed his left arm, heading for the exit, ready to drag him if necessary.

“We need to leave, now.” you gritted lowly through your teeth. He didn’t so much as hesitate before you were engulfed by darkness and emerged on the other side of the city in a residential area. Small houses and apartments surround you.

“What happened?” he exclaimed the minute you landed.

“The Vanserras are here, you need to alert Rhysand,” you wheezed, “If Eris is already in the city, mother knows where the others-”

Azriel cut you off quickly. “You saw Eris?” he asked, too calm for your liking.

“Yes!” you exclaimed, still panting for breath, “You can’t have missed him, he was right there in the corridor!”

A look of pure confusion painted his features.

“I only heard my shadows tell me something had happened, and I came to find you.” he said. “Maybe he went in the other direction upon exiting, but I didn’t pass him. I was only concerned about finding you.”

“But you hid me, Az, how did you do that without knowing where I was?”

He frowned. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Dove. What do you mean by me hiding you?”

“Your fucking shadows! They told me explicitly not to go, but I didn’t listen, and they concealed me from Eris’ sight despite that. It was like he was seeing straight through me at the wall. Couldn’t they have done that on their own?”

“That’s impossible,” he said almost condescendingly, irritating you further, “they only act on my command. None of them could even tell me what happened in that hallway, they weren’t present at all. Could it have been something else? A fairy-light going out, maybe?”

He didn’t believe you, you realized, but you would be willing to bet your life on it. Those had been shadows, there was no doubt about it. A fairy-light, my ass, you wanted to scoff.

“Is it possible there’s another Shadowsinger here?” you said instead, unwilling to entertain the idea that a single light going out had concealed you in an otherwise empty corridor. “Maybe one of the other courts found another that they kept secret!” What other explanation could there be?

“I’d have known about it the second they were inside the city, and-” he cut himself off, his eyes widening. “Wait, you heard the shadows? They talked to you?”

“Yes, I did, that’s what I’m trying to tell you, they helped me!” you practically shouted. He was quiet for a moment, as you paced before him. Why wasn’t he reacting to any of this? Whatever Autumn had planned was dangerous and needed immediate attention, he shouldn’t be debating with you about his shadows!

His gaze locked to yours as he stopped your movement with a light touch to your elbow, inhaling deeply. You had never seen him looking so taken aback before, concern etched across his face. “Shadows only sing to the ones who created them, Dove.”

Update took a little longer than planned, but I took the time to finish it for you guys before uni this morning! As always, tell me what you think <3

And yes Azriel went for the "a lightbulb went out" route, a man can't be perfect lmao

Banner created by the amazing @saradika!

Taglist: @sapphenaa @minnieoo @weasleyreidstyles

#azriel x reader #azriel #acotar #acotar x reader #acotar fanfic #azriel fanfic #azriel POV #azriel x you #azriel x y/n #enemies to lovers #bird of prey

93 notes · View notes

cilil · 11 months

Text

𝐏𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐯𝐞!𝐕𝐚𝐥𝐚𝐫 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 - 𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓀𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓎ℴ𝓊 𝒶𝓈 𝓉𝒽ℯ𝒾𝓇𝓈

Characters: Manwë, Varda, Oromë, Námo and Irmo; reader's gender is unspecified - all up to your imagination~

Featuring: Dom/sub dynamics/undertones, predator/prey kink, soul sex

Warnings: Possessive themes, bit of rough foreplay and sex, smut/suggestive

Author's Note: Thanks to everyone who voted on my recent polls. I'll be trying out a bit of a new format, combining headcanons with small scenes/imagines, with this one and hope you'll find it enjoyable. If there are other characters you'd like to see for this, feel free to suggest and keep an eye out for future polls!♡

Manwë

ଘ The Elder King is a romantic lover and enjoys courting you, though even during these early stages he finds ways to subtly claim you for himself: He showers you with gifts like jewellery with sapphires (his signature gemstone), robes in his colours, objects decorated with feathers or bird-shaped items and writes poetry for you which he recites and sings for you both in private and in public.

ଘ Once Manwë has successfully conquered your heart, he makes sure to publicly display his affection for you by making you sit on his lap, kissing you and wrapping his wings around you at every opportunity.

ଘ In the bedroom, little remains of Manwë's calm, serene demeanour. He loves marking your body with his talons, covering you in love bites and engaging in breath play to make you feel just how much you need his element - need him.

ଘ Manwë has a breeding kink that gets particularly strong when he's in heat or nearing it and loves filling you up to make sure that his essence remains inside you as long as possible and his scent stays on you, deterring any other suitors from approaching you.

. . . . . ◟੭. . . . . ◟੭. . . . . ◟੭

Your lips part to release a soft gasp when Manwë pulls you closer and presses open-mouthed kisses to the side of your neck, biting and sucking gently to leave blossoming marks. His mighty talons draw patterns on the naked skin of your back, causing you to arch and lean into his embrace; he is careful not to hurt you, though you already know you will be covered in thin red lines once he's done with you.

"My little dove," Manwë croons between kisses, his voice deceptively soft; he caresses you like a warm, gentle breeze, though you know a mighty storm is slumbering underneath his calm exterior, ready to be unleashed, should anyone else attempt to touch what is his.

"Yours," you whisper. Your hands claws at his robes as Manwë continues to mark you as his for all to see; the Elder King's mate and lover that no other would ever dare to lay claim to.

Varda

✧ The Queen of Stars is often absent from the daily affairs of Valinor in favour of tending to her creations in the depths of Eä, but she makes sure everyone knows exactly who you belong to even when she's not present.

✧ Varda loves giving you pretty necklaces, bracelets and other jewellery adorned with charms that are filled with her starlight, protecting you and burning anyone who attempts to touch you without her permission.

✧ When she makes love to you, she ensures that you will remember her touch and others see the marks she left on you as will - in case anyone was doubting that you are hers - by painting luminous constellations on your skin with her fingers, twinkling little stars reminiscent of notes in a song of her love for you.

✧ Varda also gives you water from her wells to drink, enjoying the thought of her essence filling you and providing you with light and refreshment. She will stop at nothing to make sure the powers of darkness and evil stay far away from you.

. . . . . ◟੭. . . . . ◟੭. . . . . ◟੭

"Hold still, my little light," the Queen orders, pushing you down and into the soft sheets of her bed with gentle authority.

You blink nervously when you see the tip of her index finger glowing with sacred, primordial light, ready to paint the canvas of your bare chest with tiny, glittering stars.

"Will it hurt?"

Varda smiles and leans down to kiss your brow. "Of course not. There is no evil in your heart, dearest; my light would never hurt you."

Her starlit touch is hot, and for a moment you fear it'll sear your skin, but as soon as she begins caressing you, reminiscent of the gentle strokes of a paintbrush, the sensation changes to a comfortable heat. You raise your head to watch as she turns you into another one of her masterpieces, and your beloved Queen looks pleased whenever her nimble fingers elicit small noises from you, her luminous eyes holding your gaze while she slowly works her way lower and lower.

Oromë

♘ Oromë is a hunter with all his heart, so once he has caught you, he certainly won't let anyone take away his favourite prey. He loves giving you trophies from his hunting trips to wear as accessories, a not-so-subtle message to all that you now belong to him.

♘ But that won't satisfy him for too long. The huntsman of the Valar is a wild and passionate lover and covers you in bite and scratch marks every time he takes you, making sure they are visible too.

♘ Oromë loves all sorts of cuddling and physical affection and actively initiates it whenever an opportunity presents itself. While this is certainly done for his and your enjoyment, he also wants others to see that you are his and his alone and ensure that his scent will be all over you even when he isn't around, in order to ward off unwanted attention from other suitors. For the same reason, he also breeds you thoroughly.

♘ If you are a good little pet for him, Oromë will reward you with a lovely collar he made specifically for you, letting everyone know that he has claimed you and intends to keep you.

. . . . . ◟੭. . . . . ◟੭. . . . . ◟੭

Oromë's large hands hold on to your hips with a strong, bruising grip that has you whining into the moss below. You already know not to expect mercy whenever you play his favourite game of hunting and catching his prey, a symbolic earning of his right to claim you.

"What a lovely little deer," Oromë purrs and leans forward to bite the juncture between your neck and shoulder while he enters you with the fierce determination of a feral beast.

Your cries and moans only spur him on to thrust deeper and harder, his hands keeping you in place with the strength and steadiness of an experienced hunter. As far as you know, you two are alone in this part of his woods, yet something tells you that he wouldn't mind if one of the other hunting parties found you – to see him taking you, marking you, filling you with his seed to ensure that his scent you be on you for days to come.

Námo

☯ The mark of a Fëantur may be subtle, though no less intense than those visible on your skin. Once Námo has taken you as his lover, he binds your fëa to his, leaving an echo of his song and a ghost of his touch with you wherever you go. Those proficient in ósanwe and/or attuned to spiritual matters feel the Doomsman's presence wherever you go, no more than one call through your bond away.

☯ Nevertheless, Námo knows that not all Incarnates are able to sense and heed his silent warning, so he also presents you with clothes and jewellery to adorn your body. He likes long, flowing robes in dark colours, veils and little charms shaped like crows and ravens, similar to his own attire, and greatly enjoys seeing you wearing those, an unmistakable sign of belonging to him.

☯ When he isn't present and you are outside of his halls, Námo may occasionally guide your fate in whichever way he sees fit to make sure you return safely. Those who attempt to harm you will face the Doomsman's wrath.

☯ Yet as much as he wishes to protect you, Námo wants nothing more than to own and mark you in the most intimate way possible - which is your fëa. Should you ever be slain, or once his need and longing overwhelm him, he will whisk you away to Mandos, keep you there until the end of the world and fill your spirit with his song and essence time and time again until you know no other than him.

. . . . . ◟੭. . . . . ◟੭. . . . . ◟੭

Cool lips kiss the nape of your neck when Námo takes you, slowly and deliberately, enjoying the way your smaller form trembles in his arms. He's sitting on his throne with you on his lap, your robes covering the illicit image of the Master of Fate penetrating you, yet the small moans falling from your lips and the movement of his hips betray the truth.

"Let me have you," Námo whispers, and you know he wants more than to claim just your body, so you open your mind to him as well.

The sensation of his fëa reaching out to touch and intertwine with yours is just as intense as the joining of your bodily forms. Your helpless noises increase in volume despite your best efforts to hold back, yet Námo doesn't seem to mind – in fact, you begin to suspect that he wants the residents of Mandos to look up at his throne and watch, so they will know who you belong to for all ages to come.

Irmo

☾ No one has escaped the loving arms of the Lord of Dreams without remnants of glittering dream dust on their clothes and skin, and you are certainly no exception, quite the contrary: As Irmo's favourite little butterfly, he makes sure to touch, embrace and cuddle you to his heart's content, and ever since your courtship started, you feel like the dream dust has never left you again. He feigns innocence, yet you suspect that this is very much his intention, so everyone can see his touch upon you even when he isn't around.

☾ Irmo crafts a special dream catcher for you and makes sure you wear it at all times, an unmistakable sign of his love for you. It contains a small part of himself and his power, and he taps into it to ward off nightmares.

☾ He also likes entering your dreams, spending time with you there and, most importantly, ensuring that no other suitors may ever find their way there, because you belong to him and him alone. When you sleep in his gardens, you often wake up feeling his lips and hands kissing and caressing your body, leaving trails of dream dust and, at times, colourful patterns on your skin.

☾ As much as he enjoys claiming your body, he desires nothing more than to possess you in spirit as well, so that the union of your fëar leaves a permanent mark on your very being, filling you with his song and his essence.

. . . . . ◟੭. . . . . ◟੭. . . . . ◟੭

"Here? In the middle of your garden?"

Irmo merely laughs in response and rolls you over on your back to climb on top of you, his iridescent butterfly wings fluttering excitedly.

"Why not, my darling petal? Is our love not the fairest and most beautiful thing my garden has ever seen?"

Glittering dream dust falls from his wings and hair as he leans forward to kiss you, and you soon find yourself feeling both soothed and excited by his presence and the comfortable weight of his fána on top of you.

Sensing your emotions, Irmo's gentle hand sneaks between your legs and finds you willing and eager for him, ready to be taken. He breaks the kiss to gaze at your face, delighting in your blushing cheeks, half-lidded eyes and parted, wet lips, panting softly as you look up at him.

"I will make love to you until you fall asleep in my arms," Irmo whispers, "and when you do, I will continue to make love to you in your dreams."

taglist: @a-contemplation-upon-flowers @asianbutnotjapanese @bluezenzennie @edensrose @i-did-not-mean-to @melkors-defense-attorney @singleteapot

read more? main masterlist

get tagged for my writing? tag list form

168 notes · View notes

dilemmaontwolegs · 2 years

Text

The Miracle - Ch.1

Morpheus (Dream of the Endless) x reader (no gender/pronouns mentioned)

Summary: In a natural world you would not exist, born by someone who could never have a child. You were a miracle. An anomaly that lives outside the natural laws and has power in all realms. But there is one realm, one King, that you are drawn to most of all. Warnings: canon-typical magic, flirting WC: 2480

Ch.1 || Ch.2 || Ch.3 || Ch.4 || Ch.5 || Ch.6

The Dreaming The faceless man tried to instil fear into your mind but you could see the coward behind the mask, the soulless demon who preyed on the helpless. Only you weren’t helpless.

A fire burned in the pits where his eyes should have been and you cast an arm over the terrain, washing it with hues of life and a crystalline river to suffocate those flames. The water surrounded him, steam erupting as it touched his skin until he was encompassed and withered away to nothing.

Silence fell as the river dissolved. All was peaceful in the dense glade once again and you tipped your head to the rays of light that pierced through the canopy, basking in its warmth.

“How did you do that?”

You spun around to face the handsome stranger that had appeared behind you. In the shafts of light that broke the dark his jaw looked sharp below the hallows of his cheeks. His pale skin gave you the sinking feeling that this was death himself coming to greet you. Straightening your spine, you refused to show your trepidation.

“It is my dream, I can do whatever I want,” you answered sardonically. To prove your point, the ground swelled around you until it split and the chasm was filled with a threatening red liquid that resembled a moat of fiery blood. You were also well aware that it created a small distance between him and you.

“That is where you are mistaken,” he spoke softly, a deep and dark reverberation to his tone that seemed to rumble through the air with its own power. Sand swirled around his boots, carrying him closer, safely over the moat. Your neck craned back to look up at his face and you stood your ground as he trailed those curious eyes over your body. “This is my dream.”

A gold chain hung around his neck and you caught your wide-eyed reflections in the polished facets of a glowing ruby. The gemstone seemed to whisper to you, begging your touch enough to leave your fingers trembling at your side until you broke away. A dip grew between his dark brows as he watched the strange interaction with fascination and his head tilted slightly, the semblance of an intelligent bird coming to mind.

“You’re a creation,” he said with a deeper frown.

“Aren’t we all, in some way or another,” you replied with a confident smile, hoping it hid the waver in your voice.

“I suppose you are correct,” he nodded with a tight lipped smile. “We may be the Endless but we certainly had a beginning.”

Before you could question him to find out what an Endless was, a harsh screeching filled the air and the ground began to roll beneath your feet. The edges of the dream began to blur and fade away, a silent grey eating away the colourful world you had sculpted until only he remained.

“Will you find me again?” you asked tentatively, undecided on whether it was wise or not to ask.

A small curl appeared at the corner of his lips and those sad, jaded eyes suddenly seemed lighter. “I already have.”

The Waking You felt his heavy presence before your eyes fluttered open. Dust particles twinkled as they drifted across the sunlight that speared through the gap in your curtain and you watched them disappear into the shadows where he stood.

You should have been startled, at the very least, by his blatant disregard to normal social behaviour but you found his demure nature to be quite soothing. The god complex from The Dreaming had simmered away when he left his realm for The Waking but he still held a formidable power in those eyes.

“You’re shorter than I remember,” you said with a yawn as he took a step closer and let the sun illuminate his features.

“A dreamer’s perception.” The words were cool but there was that light again, the shimmer of humour.

“Perhaps,” you chuckled. “Or you used your clever little tricks to make yourself appear bigger. It would not be the first time a man has tried that.”

Your eyes trailed over the leather vest he wore and down further still until his nose wrinkled and a scoff escaped his lips at your implied taunt. His long legs drew him closer until he towered over you at the edge of your bed and he dropped his hands either side of your head to cage you in. Your heart was pumping, the beats so loud that he could surely hear - only it was not from fear as you looked into his obsidian eyes.

“I am not a man. I am the King of Dreams. I am of the Endless.”

His chest was puffing as the silence enclosed around you and you wished you could see what was hidden beneath the dark, leather vestment he wore like an armour. You swore you could feel the warmth of his skin on yours, or at least the memory of it long forgotten, something you had been searching for.

“We are not in The Dreaming now,” you said as you sat up slowly. You had given him enough time to choose to give you space and back away or hold his position and let you inhale his scent that enveloped you. He gave not an inch as he kept your eyes captivated. The moment was more intimate than you had imagined it would be as you closed them and let your senses be filled with him - cherry wood and sweet smoke. “You’re in my realm.”

You trailed your index finger along the perfectly sewn seam that traced the lines of his chest and bit your lip as they began to unravel.

“What are you?” he asked, unperturbed by the cool air now kissing his chest.

“Unique.”

“That I know,” he growled softly, catching your wrists before you could reach his leather pants, despite the way his pupils dilated at the idea of you removing them. “What are you exactly?”

You huffed and fell back onto your pillow, your body immediately missing his closeness. “An answer to a prayer. A dream come true. Take your pick.”

His lips parted in surprise and a breathless laugh bubbled out. “A miracle. You’re a miracle.”

“That’s what my mother said,” you said with a shrug. “I didn’t believe her until…”

“Tell me,” he pleaded quietly as he dropped to his knees in your lingering silence. “Please.”

“On my 10th birthday, my dreams came true - my thoughts came to life,” you said barely above a whisper. Most people would think you were crazy, your childhood friends certainly thought it and it led to a solitary life. But here was this man, no, this King, accepting your words as gospel. “If I lose control, if I let my emotions consume me, then the world, Waking or Dreaming, begins to change. And not in a way that is intended.”

He leant forward, fascinated by the ability that was everything and nothing like his power. “It is as much a burden as it is a gift.”

You didn’t miss the self reflection or tic of his jaw as he clenched it shut. He was right.

“Tell me, King of Dreams, if given the chance, would you give your burden unto others so that they may bear its weight?”

He seemed to contemplate his answer before he stood up and held a hand out. You eyed the line of smooth skin from his long fingers, along the blue veins and across the straps of muscles that showed a hidden strength, coming to rest on the ruby that hung over his bare chest. The gemstone once again called to you as you accepted his hand and let him pull you from the bed.

“Today it is not a burden,” he said with an almost smile. “Let me show you.”

You stepped closer to him as a sand storm began to encroach on the space around you. A blink later, you reluctantly returned his clothes to him. You would hate to see that body marred by the whipping grains of sand flying by.

For a moment, all light was gone and you were certain the sand was going to swallow you whole. Just as quick as the orb sealed, it broke and a warm wind cast the sand to settle across the beach. High stone walls rose above you, your shadows reaching towards it as the sun warmed your back. It wasn’t the stone that held your attention as you stepped closer, but the carving that latticed their way across it, telling a story if one knew how to read them.

“I’ve seen these before,” you muttered as you traced the chiselled symbol, straining to remember where it was. “Or something like these.”

A long moment passed before you shook your head and looked away, the teasing wisps of the memory fading as the high gates began to silently swing open.

Following Dream’s beckoning, you walked the sandy path into his domain and marvelled at the lively sight. Creatures of all kinds roamed around, both on the ground and above. Not even your wildest imagination could have created such beautiful beings as the ones that now surrounded you.

The rhythmic beat of strong wings sounded overhead and you ducked just as a large pearlescent dragon flew past, its tail narrowly missing Dream’s tousled hair. A deep chuckle rumbled like thunder through your bones and you turned with surprise to see a smile on his face.

His gaze was still on the dragon but his hands moved at his side, a gust of wind blowing a swirl of sand up into the air to form the silhouette of a dragon that quickly chased the other. The two dragons danced and played across the sky until they disappeared beyond the horizon and his smile went with it.

Wishing to see the joy on his face once more you veered from the path and plucked a blade of grass from the field. You ran the blade across your palm, feeling the velvet touch gently bounce over the lines that supposedly read your destiny. Dream flinched and clutched his cheek as he felt a phantom touch, a lover’s caress, before you laughed. He looked closer at your hand as you wrote upon your palm and he felt the words being softly drawn across his face.

“That was uncalled for, little miracle,” he tried to growl but the twitch of his lips said otherwise.

“I do have a name you know.”

He looked away to the distant palace whose spires glittered in the lingering daylight and a darkness cloaked him as he closed his eyes.

“A name gives power, Miracle,” Dream said. “Do not give your power away. Especially not to me.”

His glowering mood seemed to draw night over the land as the last rays of sun disappeared behind the wall and a shiver rolled over your body. Blowing on the blade of grass to transform it, you handed him the stem of the midnight rose. He didn’t wince at all as the thorns pierced his skin, a bright red bead of blood weaving its way between the maze of pricks.

“Power is nothing, Dream,” you whispered in his ear, his breath dancing across your cheek as he turned to face you. “Unless you have someone to share it with.”

“Morpheus! Morpheus, come quick!” you loudly whispered into the ruby that hung around your neck.

A blast of wind nearly knocked you from your perch as Dream appeared beside you. The branch had been sturdy enough but the addition of another body on it now sent a bow along its length followed by an ominous creak.

“May I ask what you are doing in Fiddler's Green?” he asked before looking down and seeing he wasn’t standing quite on the Green at all, a frown etched across his brow. “I mistakenly thought you were in trouble of some kind. You haven’t got yourself stuck up here have you?”

“Ha ha,” you drawled, tempted to send your own little gust of wind his way. “Thank you for your concern but, other than your lanky self threatening to break the branch we are both balanced on, I actually called you here to see this.”

Morpheus’ eyes widened at the nest you had been sitting in front of, the eggs hidden until you stepped onto another branch. He eased his way closer so he didn’t startle the dragon that had already hatched. Its rainbow of colour shimmered with every scales movement and it slowly stretched its wings out, testing the leathery limbs without the egg limiting its space.

“Absolutely beautiful,” Dream whispered in awe as he turned his attention to you. “You did this.”

You went to deny it but the truth was there had only been one dragon left in The Dreaming and after seeing how happy she was chasing Morpheus’ shadow dragon on the afternoons you walked his realm together, you couldn’t deny her a true companion. You hadn’t realised the multi-hued blue dragon you created, to be the exact colour of Dream’s eyes when he was happy, would be able to procreate. But there they were, three dragon eggs hatching.

“We did this,” you corrected as you slipped your hand into his and gave it a squeeze. “Do you think this would upset God?”

Morpheus pursed his lips at the question, wondering about the implications of creating life as opposed to creating merely a dream. Finally, the corner of his lips curled up and he squared his shoulders back proudly. “No, my love. I believe the Creator of All Things would marvel at what his miracle had achieved.”

Warmth flooded you at the sincerity but there was no time to show your gratitude as the second egg began to crack open. The excitable parents were causing all manner of damage to the green’s pasture as they impatiently paced beneath the tree and you silently promised to repair the damage once you had safely delivered the babies.

“Have you thought of any names?” Morpheus asked before he placed a soft kiss on your knuckles.

“I have contemplated the Furies of Greek Myth, or maybe the Three Graces. I would like to see their temperament first before deciding.”

Dream chuckled and crouched down to pluck a particularly stubborn piece of shell from the dragon's back. The dragon immediately nudged its head under his hand and took shelter in his palm. “I feel they will be sweet-tempered, akin to the Graces.”

The tenderness of his touch, the yearning in his eyes, it left an ache in your chest that nearly knocked you from the tree. The image that had flashed through your mind was so strikingly vivid you couldn’t tell if it were real or not. Morpheus, King of Dreams, longed for a family of his own.

Click here for Chapter Two

#the sandman #morpheus x reader #dream x reader #dream fanfic #sandman fanfiction #dream of the endless x reader #morpheus fanfiction #morpheus x you #dream x you #dream of the endless

1K notes · View notes

alienguts · 2 years

Text

Fan Club (Harley Quinn x f!Reader)

Summary: Harley introduces her amazing girlfriend to the Birds of Prey

Warnings: Fluff, Harley squeeing over Y/N, PDA, mentions of food

Request?: Requested on AO3

A/N: I'm still trying to get the hang of writing F/F stuff 😕

Harley was unusually cheery as she sat in the diner with Dinah and Helena. She was normally quite peppy and cheerful on a regular day, but this time she was almost bouncing in her seat.

“Harley, what did you invite us here for?” Dinah asked while Helena looked out the window.

“I wanted to introduce you all to someone important,” Harley said excitedly.

“Important?” Helena asked, turning her attention back to the table. “How ‘important’ are we talking?”

“Well, the most important person to me,” Harley said, her pale skin flushing as she turned her eyes down to the table.

Dinah and Helena exchanged a knowing glance just as the bell over the diner door rang.

“Hey, you can’t bring that in here!” one of the waitresses yelled as a hyena on a leash bounded through the room, followed by a girl trying to hold it back.

“She’s here!” Harley squealed in delight and leapt to her feet. The hyena made a beeline for her, pulling the girl along with it and knocking a few diners into the tables.

“He had to come in as soon as he knew his mommy was here,” the girl said breathlessly.

“Because he’s a good boy!” Harley said as she ruffled the hyena’s furry head. “Aren’t you, Brucie?”

Bruce licked Harley’s face and tried to jump onto her but was held back by his leash.

“Um, are you going to introduce us, Harley?” Dinah said from their table.

“Oh! Yeah, I was,” Harley said as she linked arms with the girl and led her and Bruce over to sit down. “This is Dinah and Helena, Renee couldn’t be here because of cop shit. Ladies, this is Y/N, my amazing, beautiful, super hot girlfriend.”

Y/N waved awkwardly, or as much as she could with Harley clinging onto her.

“Nice to meet you,” she said shyly.

Dinah knew that Harley had started seeing someone, but she didn’t expect them to be like Y/N. Harley was so lively and colourful while Y/N seemed to be more subdued and quiet. Opposites attract, she figured.

“So, Y/N,” Dinah started. “How did you and Harley meet?”

Y/N opened her mouth to speak, but Harley jumped in for her immediately.

“Oh my god it’s so cute, we met at the library!” Harley said, pronouncing it as ‘lie-berry’.

“Library, sweetie,” Y/N corrected. “It’s where I work. I thought she was coming in to borrow movies but it turned out it was to talk to me.”

“Aw, that's sweet,” Dinah said as she and Helena watched Harley rest her head on Y/N’s shoulder.

“Guys, she’s so smart, she knows so much about so many things!”

“Babe, you have a PhD,” Y/N said.

“Oh that old thing doesn’t matter,” Harley said with a handwave. She must really like this girl if she’s willing to say that, Helena thought, knowing how proud Harley was of her qualifications.

After a lunch that mostly consisted of Harley gushing about Y/N through mouthfuls of food, the four ladies went outside to say their goodbyes for the day.

Or at least, that’s what Dinah and Helena were about to do when they turned around to Harley lip-locked with Y/N as she tried to keep Bruce by her side. The two of them seemed to be oblivious to the fact that they were out on the street and were contained in their own little bubble of love. Helena cleared her throat to get their attention but was ignored.

“Harley?” Dinah piped up.

“What?” Harley said, her lips loudly smacking against Y/N’s as she broke away. Her mouth was smeared with red lipstick but she clearly didn’t care about her makeup at the moment.

“We’re gonna head off,” Dinah said.

“It looks like the two of you could do with some privacy,” Helena added.

“Oh, we’re fine,” Harley said as she nuzzled her cheek against Y/N’s.

Y/N, however, looked like she was about to hide, obviously not used to Harley’s public displays of affection.

“It was nice meeting you two,” she said to Dinah and Helena and smiled warmly. “Hopefully Reneé can meet with us next time.”

They all said goodbye and went their separate ways, Harley and Y/N hanging back a little longer before heading off home themselves.

“Thank you for meeting my friends, baby,” Harley said as she tightly hugged Y/N.

“No problem, I had fun,” she said as she returned the hug and kissed her on the cheek.

Harley took her chance to capture Y/N’s lips again, tasting leftover maple syrup on her mouth and stroking her head gently.

“I hope they end up loving you as much as I do,” she said, her lips not moving away from hers, desperate to continue kissing her.

“We’ll see,” Y/N said. “But can we go home now? People are starting to stare.”

“Let ‘em stare!” Harley said. “I want people to know that I swept the hottest girl in town off her feet.”

Bruce whined from next to them and nudged Y/N’s leg.

“I don’t think I’m the only one who wants to go home here.”

“Alright, fine, we’ll go. But not because this big baby said so.”

493 notes · View notes

witch-undercover-agency · 8 months

Text

Origin: Greek Mythology

Symbol: The Ram

Quality: Cardinal

Element: Fire

Colour: Red, Blood Red, Midnight Black, Armor Silver

Metal: Iron, Steel, Bronze, Brass, Copper, Silver, Gold, Lead, Mercury

Crystal: Bloodstone, Red Jasper, Carnelian, Red Agate, Hematite, Black Obsidian, Pyrite, Garnet, Ruby, Red Tiger's Eye, Red Calcite, Mahogany Obsidian, Red Aventurine, Fire Agate

Fruits: Cherries, pomegranates, strawberries, raspberries, red apples, watermelon, passionfruit, dragonfruit, cranberries, guava, tomato, fig, plum, apricot, red currants, currants

Vegetables: Red bell peppers, chili peppers, beets, radishes, tomatoes, carrots, red cabbage, red onions, red potatoes, red kale, red Swiss chard, red lettuce, red spinach, red mustard greens, red beans

Flower: Tulip, poppy, red rose, hollyhock, anemone, amaryllis, geranium, carnation, sweet pea, marigold, hibiscus, dahlia, daisy, gladiolus, ranunculus, red camellia

Herb: Basil, cayenne pepper, ginger, garlic, nettle, thistle, coriander, lemongrass, mustard, pink peppercorn, wormwood, vervain, calendula, rue, dragon's blood resin

Animal: Ram, wolf, hawk, eagle, shark, badger, lynx, vulture, crocodile, warthog, scorpion, bull, cobra, panther, hyena

Number: 1

Day: Tuesday

Season: Spring

Time of day: Sunrise

Anatomy: Head, face, eyes, muscles

Key word: Courage

Key phrase: "I am a warrior of the spirit."

Moon phase: Full Moon

Musical note: D

Tarot: The Emperor

Tool: Spear

Spell type: Protection

Offerings:Red wine or blood-red wine to symbolize vitality and bravery.

Freshly sharpened weapons or replicas as a symbol of warfare.

Spicy foods, as Ares was associated with the heat of battle.

Olive oil, a symbol of peace and victory.

Red roses or other red flowers to represent passion and strength.

Frankincense incense to purify and honor the deity.

Ares figurines or statues for his representation.

Honey, as it was believed to be an offering to appease the gods.

Pomegranates, a symbol of fertility and life force.

Bay leaves, which were associated with victory in ancient Greece.

Offerings of meat, such as lamb or goat, to represent strength.

Myrrh resin, often used in ancient rituals and associated with deities.

Red candles to invoke the fiery aspect of Ares.

A spearhead or other warrior-related artifacts.

A prayer or poem expressing your admiration and respect for Ares.

Signs:A sudden surge of courage or confidence when facing challenges.

Dreams or visions of battle or warlike scenes.

Finding or receiving gifts related to warfare, such as a weapon or armor.

Seeing red objects or colors more frequently, as red is often associated with Ares.

Feeling a strong connection to historical or mythological warriors and heroes.

Increased interest in martial arts, combat sports, or military history.

Hearing or encountering stories, songs, or poems related to war and valor.

A feeling of inner strength and determination during tough times.

Noticing signs of conflict resolution or justice happening around you.

Repeated encounters with symbols of Ares, such as his name or imagery.

Birds of prey, like hawks or eagles, appearing more frequently in your vicinity.

Feeling a call to stand up for a just cause or protect those in need.

A strong desire to learn about ancient Greek culture and mythology.

A sense of honor and duty becoming more prominent in your life.

Meeting individuals who share a similar interest in Ares or warrior-like qualities.

76 notes · View notes

eirianerisdar · 2 months

Note

hi! i'm really loving icarus, you're a wonderful writer! but i just had a quick question. i love the flock graphics, and they're super helpful! would it be possible for you to maybe list the species of birds for the main 'characters' of the story as well? you don't have to post example photos or anything crazy, but i think just a list like that would be helpful too. sometimes i forget who has what kind of wings, and i think having a list so i can google image the bird would be great.

if that's not something you want to do or don't have time to do or something, no worries!! i really appreciate you taking the time to write icarus in the first place <3

Oof I might as well do a general guide! I never thought a maxiel wingfic would spawn so many specific wing allocations but here's the general list:

Paddock wings in Icarus:

Current grid:

Daniel Ricciardo - Scarlet Macaw (colourful, nimble flyers)

Max Verstappen - Peregrine Falcon (raw speed, inherited from his mother)

Sergio Perez -Crested Caracara (a type of mexican bird of prey)

Lewis Hamilton - Greater Bird of Paradise (beautiful wing plumes, lovely singer)

George Russell - Blue swallow (beautiful metallic-blue feathers, scream like madmen when they fly)

Carlos Sainz - Spanish Imperial Eagle (white epaulets, very regal)

Charles Leclerc - White Dove (need I say more? Perfect white wings, exploited because they're pretty but so intelligent in pathfinding)

Lando Norris - Lucifer Hummingbird (Small, colourful, likes to hover in place)

Oscar Piastri - Little Lorikeet (One of the smaller types of Australian parrot. Very cute)

Yuki Tsunoda - Japanese Long-tailed tit (Photos should be self explanatory. They fly like ballistic missiles)

Alexander Albon - Crested Fireback (National bird of Thailand. Beautiful dark blue and fiery plumage)

Logan - Blue Jay (Commonly found in Florida. Blue, like Logan's current posting, and his eyes)

Pierre Gasly - Osprey (A bird of prey often found near coasts along the European shoreline, and Pierre is from Normandy)

Esteban Ocon - Black Stork (Tall, gangly, also migrates through France)

Fernando Alonso - Kestrel (a type of small bird of prey, hunts by biding their time and waiting then divebombing)

Lance Stroll - Snowy Owl (Lance is cuddly ok and I didn't want to make him a Canadian goose because that's his dad)

Valtteri Bottas - Bullfinch (Look it up. The picture is self-explanatory. The manliest of men)

Zhou Guanyu - Chinese Red-Crowned Crane (A crowned crane for the champion of the universe, as translates his name)

Kevin Magnussen - Raven (Viking. quoth the raven.)

Nico Hulkenberg - Crow (he keeps coming back. As wily as many of their bird counterparts but has a bad rep for being a bad omen)

Retired drivers or drivers not currently on the grid:

Sebastian Vettel - Swiftlet (Extremely good fliers, reaching up to 160km/h and pulls insane G-forces)

Mick Schumacher - European robin (Very cute. Universally liked. Same wings as his father)

Nico Rosberg - Eurasian Sparrowhawk (a bird of prey that hunts by ambushing before a high-speed, agile chase)

Jenson Button - Northern Harrier (hunts in a high-speed flight close to the ground, exceptionally good listeners)

Mark Webber - Cassowary (look up a photo. Just look at it.)

Kimi Raikkonen - Giant Albatross (King of gives no shits, flies very long distances without a care)

David Coulthard - Bush-Stone Curlew (White trousers!)

Romain Grosjean - Red-tailed Hawk (I chose the bird of prey that could best mesh with the phoenix metaphor)

Antonio Giovannazi - White-spotted Starling (Very pretty plumage)

Daniil Kyvat - Great Bustard (I honestly don't remember why. Distributes in Russia)

Nyck De Vries - Common European Sparrow (Small. Commonly found. Unfortunately often hunted)

Nikita Mazepin - Flamingo (Need I say more)

Sir Jackie Stewart - (Clipped) Merlin Wings (Extremely fast Scottish bird of prey. In-fic, Jackie was one of the generation of drivers that clipped their wings, permanently robbing them of flight)

Team Principals and people in the paddock:

Toto Wolff - Black Swan (self-explanatory)

Christian Horner - Golden Eagle (A bit pompous. Matches his hair)

James Vowles - Magpie (Utterly clever, not from any particular prestige)

Fred Vasseur - Partridge (Affable. Cuddly.)

Guenther Steiner - Shoebill (self-explanatory, look up a photo)

Cyril Abiteboul - Eagle Owl (something about his face is very Eagle Owl)

Micheal Italiano - Kookaburra (laughs when they shouldn't)

Zak Brown - Chicken (self-explanatory. Literally and metaphorically)

Andreas (mclaren) - Common Quail (short lifespan)

Mattia Binotto - Pigeon (wants to be as pretty and loved as Charles. Is a public nuisance instead)

Otmar sznafnauer - Peacock (Struts around, can't really fly)

Resident Bastard:

Jos Verstappen - Cuckoo (Cuckoos are brood parasites, and lay their eggs in nests of birds of other species'. The cuckoo parent therefore does nothing while other birds raise their young)

#I've probably missed a couple minor characters so if anyone has any questions feel free to drop a reply and I'll answer #f1 #f1 wingfic #f1 wing au #icarus #my post #writing #fanfic

33 notes · View notes

holdmytesseract · 2 years

Text

moodboard by the wonderful @mochie85 !

Baby Fever AU 《Masterlist》

The Baby Fever AU is set some time after the attack on New York. Infinity War, End Game and Thanos never happened. Loki's punishment had been to join the Avengers - where he met you. One thing came to the other and a few years later, you two are married - and now parents of a sweet girl, called Ella and a little boy called Narfi. This AU features the adventures you are expieriencing as a family - and a lot of dad!Loki moments, 'cause we all love Loki being a dad...

General Warnings: fluff, fluff and even more fluff! Pregnancy things, birth, etc.

Last Updated: April 17th, 2024

《 Baby Fever - the Beginning 》

(How Loki's baby fever started...)

🍼 Part One

🍼 Part Two

🍼 Part Three

《 Before Ella... 》

(The oneshots here are from the time before Ella is born. Y/N's and Loki's story...)

🍼 The Beginning

🍼 You & Me Forever

🍼 Paper Rings

🍼 On one of Tony's team bonding parties...

🍼 About Time

🍼 When a God Loves a Woman

🍼 Hunter & Prey

《 The Dad Loki Diary - Chapter One 》

(What's the 'Dad Loki Diary'? The 'Dad Loki Diary' consists of drabbles and one shots of, well… Loki being Ella's dad and doing dad things. Things that come to my mind - or things that you want to read. If you have a wish what the little family should experience together, look if the requests for this AU are open and let me know! :D)

Headcanons

🍼 Disney Edition

Oneshots

🍼 Of Fathers and Sons

🍼 Daddy Takeover

🍼 Protecting Her

🍼 Father Feelings

🍼 A Precious Moment

🍼 How to Magic

🍼 A Painful Experience

🍼 First Steps

🍼 Insecurities

🍼 First Word

🍼 Not Your Little Girl Anymore

🍼 All I Need Is You

🍼 Asgardian Sightseeing Tours

🍼 Winter Wonders

🍼 A little Girl`s Wish

🍼 Merry Christmas!

🍼 A Fresh Page

🍼 Of the Birds and the Bees

🍼 Female Nature

🍼 Tempting Touch (18+)

🍼 Autumn Blues

🍼 Little Mood Changer

🍼 Capturing the Moment

🍼 Cravings & Food Rubs

Drabbles

🍼 Ella

🍼 Lullaby

🍼 He's Back - Part Two (Part One is written by @lokisgoodgirl )

🍼 Close to You

🍼 Sugar Sweet

🍼 About Scrunchies and Hair Clips

Blurbs

🍼 Ella, sitting on Loki's chest, raven locks in her tiny hands...

🍼 Loki and Y/N, sitting opposite their dining table, looking each other deadly in the eyes...

🍼 Five-year-old Ella is sitting with Loki at the small table in her room, colouring in her princesses colouring book..

🍼 Loki, laying in the bathtub with a glass of wine in hands, living his best life...

🍼 Loki, standing in the kitchen in order to prepare a little something for you to eat...

🍼 Loki, changing the nappy of a happily gurgling Ella...

🍼 The Promo Tour

《 The Dad Loki Diary - Chapter Two 》

(Well... Welcome to Chapter Two of the 'Dad Loki Diary'. :D Our favourite God is now a dad of two. <3 A new chapter in life has started for him, so I thought it's time to start a new chapter here as well! :D)

Oneshots

🧸 Narfi

🧸 Princess Meets Prince

🧸 Tummy Talkin'

🧸 The Price of Love

🧸 Royal Visitors

🧸 Bad Dream

🧸 Football Fever

🧸 The Equation of Love

🧸 Gym Sessions & Babies

🧸 Biggest Fear

🧸 Boys Do Cry

🧸 Infinite Love

🧸 A Stroke Of Fate

Blurbs

🧸 Y/N, tiptoeing towards the bedroom after a long and tiring day of meetings...

🧸 In the royal gardens of Asgard...

🧸 At Thor's and Jane's house; quite a few miles away from the Avengers compound...

🧸 ... and a Happy New Year!

#loki x reader #loki laufeyson x female reader #loki laufeyson x reader #loki x you #loki x y/n #tom hiddleston x reader #tom hiddleston characters

969 notes · View notes

cyborg-franky · 8 months

Note

Okay, is it weird to want to be held by Marco’s claws in his hybrid form? Just imagine him pinning you to the wall or deck of the Moby Dick with his foot/claw…

I went a little insane about this because I also love love loooove his talons and claws. Top Ten things that make me go feral about Marco...

Marco x GN Reader SFW WC 700

Of all the people you could have been paired with on the ship for a sparring match, it just had to be Marco, didn’t it? The tall handsome doctor with the wicked wit and welcoming personality. The very man you had an all-consuming crush on. You tried to tell yourself this was just a coincidence, the only person suited to sparring with you, one of the few members of the crew who weren’t three times your size or likely to burst into hot flames.

But the twinkle in his deep blue eyes and the coyness of his smile makes you think there might have been something, someone, to blame for these unfortunate events. You stood up when he sauntered over to where you were sitting.

“Alright, ready for our sparring date?” He asked and you wished he hadn’t used the word date, Your palms already felt sweaty from nerves and the clear flirting from the good doctor was going to do little to stop your heart racing.

You nodded, trying to concentrate, bring yourself back into the correct mindset, trying to ignore how good he looked in his workout clothes, how the shorts rode dangerously low, showing off those defined hipbones of his. If eye contact had been difficult before, well.

He cleared his throat as he got into a fighting stance, you blinked slowly and pulled your attention to his face, seeing the lazy smirk turn into a full grin of triumph, he’d seen just how preoccupied with his waist you’d been mere seconds ago. “Yeah,” you swallowed and nodded, “I’m ready,”

–

Marco dodged another one of your attacks, ducking down as another swung at him. He wasn’t breaking a sweat, he was simply a bird of prey toying with its meal before he’d swoop in with a finishing blow. He could sense that you knew he was going easy on you, and that’s fine. You both knew you were outmatched, Marco just using you as some light entertainment while you tried to get the most out of a sparring session.

He decided to let you get a hit in, sweeping his leg out from under him. The way you had grinned, cocky as he started to fall backward. How you rested your hands on your hips about to spout out something, he was sure, he knew you couldn’t resist some wisecrack at having landed a hit on him.

Blue erupted all around him, lighting up the area with its gorgeous glow and mesmerizing hues as the colours danced and spilled across the deck. Your eyes widened when huge wings fanned out from the tantalizing display. You didn’t even notice the flexing talons.

Not until you were knocked flat on your back, the world-changing perspective in the time it took you to make a surprised gasp as you landed on the deck. Staring up into the darkening sky, trying to sit up until you felt a large talon press down on your chest. Your hands instinctively reached up to grab Marco’s foot.

The way the claws tickled when he flexed sent tingles down your spine, the rough texture and the feel of just how much power coursed under the scaly skin was also making you have thoughts. Your heart was racing double time as you gawked up at him, following the line of his strong leg.

Marco was smirking at you, a glimmer of something feral behind those perfect, beautiful eyes of his. You tried to sit up, the talon gripped tighter and you let out a moan. Oh, you wished it had been one of pain...

He tilted his head, the smirk never slipping, not once, just a simple curious raise of his eyebrows before his tongue darted out to lick across his lips. A low rumbling chuckle escapes as he leans down to admire his trapped prey.

“Well, well, well… that was interesting yoi. Something the matter baby bird?” Marco asked in a sultry tone as fixed you with a look.

Oh, you were in for it now…

And you couldnma’t wait…

#marco the phoenix #one piece x reader #one piece reader insert #one piece x you #sfw #one piece #gender neutral reader #marco the phoenix x reader #marco one piece #one piece marco #marco op #op marco #marco x yourname #marco x yn #marco x y/n #marco x gn reader #marco x reader #fushichou marco

142 notes · View notes

xoxo-ren-xoxo · 1 month

Note

I’ve read through the master post I’m hungrily consuming content tell me abt Joe and Cleo. I wanna hear about their adventures. Also perhaps Martyn inthelittlewood crumbs? You got any ideas for him? Cause since evo people are part of Grian’s flock it’d make sense for Martyn to exist . I’m shoving this au in my mouth I need more. -🤖

YES I CAN TALK ABOUT THEM <3 MORE BELOW THE CUT!!

So I have no idea when or where these two come into the story, probably later on (when Grian and Mumbo have teamed up with Cub and Scar... don't worry about how that happens)

BUT. Joe and Cleo are really fun because the apocalypse literally made their lives better. The apocalypse has a sort of refraction effect (like the 'shimmer' in Annihilation) where it bends people's genetic material. For some, this means their eyes change colour, for others they become weird creatures, for many it means they explode into a weird mess of fungi.

For Joe it means he's just... weirder, now. He can do things that seem impossible, appear in places that don't make sense, defy several laws of physics, and seems to be very good at keeping monsters away. He has a sort of aura about him.

Cleo got killed by a monster but then they came back. Instead of coming back wrong or worse she came back better. Stronger, faster, better eyesight. Not that she uses it very often. Mostly they just wander about with Joe, looking for survivors. They like to help survivors get to safe places, but a lot of people are scared of her because of... uh... everything about her.

Onto Martyn who I have NOT talked about. I think he's VERY good at acting and looking human. He's probably fully integrated into a human safe haven. And he likes humans, but humans are also natural prey, so... eh. He's kind of nesting, waiting for the right moment to strike, but also building genuine connections with his prey new friends.

Design-wise I think his most natural form is something a bit more aquatic-looking than Grian and Pearl's bird/bug vibes. He's got a siren type thing going on. Which fits his personality too lol. I would love to think about him a bit more tbh he's an evil little fuck.

#hermitcraft #ben chats shit on the internet #hermitblr #fanfiction #grumbo #grumbo apocalypse monster au #ask #anon #anon: tordsgiantrobot

23 notes · View notes

anotherhumaninthisworld · 10 months

Note

The Pétion playing with the dog anecdote is so sweet. Could you do a pet compilation? I know there’s Brount and that Couthon had a dog (and a bunny?), but that’s all I’m aware of.

That’s a great idea!

Is the puppy (petit chien) you are raising for my sister as pretty as the model you showed me when I passed through Bélhune? Whatever it is, we will always welcome it with distinction and pleasure. We can even say that, however ugly it may be, it will always be lovely. Robespierre to ”a young girl” in a letter dated June 6 1788

[Robespierre] had a dog, named Brount, that he loved a lot; the poor animal was very attached to him. Le Conventionnel Le Bas: d’après des documents inédits et les mémoires de sa veuve (1901) page 107

At Madame de Kéralio’s I have seen [Robespierre] hold himself apart for an hour, playing with a big dog. Anecdote reported in 1791 by Charles-Engelbert Oelsner, cited in Robespierre: a revolutionary life (2010) by Peter McPhee, page 94.

On these occasions [Robespierre] was always accompanied by a large dog , of the Pyrenean breed, of which he was very fond. Strange to say, several of these monstrous anomalies of the Reign of Terror, were most partial to animals; and the ferocious Couthon would shed tears when his favourite spaniel was ill. Robespierre's dog always kept watch at the door of his master's bed-chamber. […] [Robespierre] appeared to me like a bird of prey — a vulture; his forehead and temples were low, and flattened; his eyes were of a fawn colour, and most disagreeable to look at; his dress was careful, and I recollect that he wore a frill and ruffles, that seemed to me of valuable lace. There were flowers in various parts of the room, and several cages, with singing birds, were hanging on the walls and near the window, opening on a small garden. Recollections of Republican France 1790 to 1801 by John Gideon Millingen, page 283-284 and 288.

[Maximilien] rarely shared the games and pleasures of his comrades; he liked to be alone to think at his ease, and passed entire hours reflecting. He had been given pigeons and sparrows which he took the greatest care of, and close to which he often came to pass the moments which he did not consecrate to his studies. […] We were sent, my sister and I, to go join our two brothers every Sunday. These were days of happiness and joy for us. My brother Maximilien, who collected images and engravings, displayed his riches and was happy with the pleasure of seeing that we felt they should be contemplated. He also gave us the honors of his aviary, and placed his sparrows and pigeons, one after another, into our hands. We strongly desired that he should give us one of his favorite birds; we solicited this with entreaties; he refused for a long time, fearing that we would not take the best possible care of them. Yet one day, he ceded to our insistences, and gave us a pretty pigeon. My sister and I, we were enchanted. He made us promise to never let it lack for anything; we swore thus a thousand times, and kept our word for a few days, and moreover we would have kept our oath forever if the unhappy pigeon, forgotten by us in the garden, had not perished on a stormy night. At the news of this death, Maximilien’s tears flowed, he piled reproaches on us that we had only too well merited, and swore that he would no more confer any of his dear pigeons on us. It was sixty years ago that by a childish flightiness I was the cause of my elder brother’s chagrin and tears: and well! My heart bleeds for it still; it seems to me that I have not aged a day since the tragic end of the poor pigeon was so sensitive to Maximilien, such that I was affected by it myself. Mémoires de Charlotte Robespierre sur ses deux frères (1833) page 47-49

Talking of so important a subject, shall I be pardoned, Mademoiselle, if I speak to you of canaries? No doubt I shall be if the canaries are interesting; and how could they not, considering they come from you? They are very pretty, and, being bred by you, we expected them to be the most gentle and sociable of canaries. What was our surprise when, upon approaching the cage, they threw themselves against the bars with an impetus which made us fear for their lives! They recommence this performance every time they see the hand that feeds them. What plan of education did you adopt for them, and how have they acquired this savage character? Do the doves that the Graces rear for the chariot of Venus display this wild temperament? Such a face as yours should surely have familiarized without difficulty your canaries with the human face. Or is it that, after seeing yours, they cannot tolerate any other? I beg of you to explain this phenomenon. Meanwhile, with all their faults, we shall always find them lovable. My sister begs me to express her thanks for your kindness in sending her this present, and to assure you of the affection with which you have inspired her. Robespierre to mademoiselle Duhay in a letter dated June 22 1782

He detests violent entertainments, and when M. Deshorties spoke to him this very evening in front of me of going on a hunt, M. de Robespierre, only responding by a refusal of his head, gently moved away the firearms that were shown to him. This gesture was imbued with a kind of repugnance. I even saw a kind of tear glint and a bitter smile form on his lips when we talked about the prey that we would infallibly bring back. He is seen as the greatest lover of the pigeons with which he coos. […] I have taken detailed notes on all this from one of his friends, with whom he is lodging on rue de Saintonge. This friend, like M. de Robespierre, is a great lover of birds; they have raised several hundred birds in a fine aviary; these gentlemen are skilled bird-keepers even if they are not deputies of the first rank. Mémoires tirés des archives de la police de Paris: pour servir à l’historie de la morale et la police(1838) by J. Peuchet, volume 5, page 340-342. The historian Hector Fleischmann questioned the authenticity of this report, given the fact he could see few reasons for police to investigate Robespierre back in 1789-1790.

I was able to converse between 1838 and 1839 with a famous parrot who had been the friend of Robespierre. He belonged to Mme the widow Lebas...whom I had the honour of seeing often in her little house in Fontenay-aux-Roses, where she would make the sign of the cross when she pronounced the name Robespierre... As to her parrot, when one said "Robespierre", it replied Hats off! Hats off! (Chapeau bas! chapeau bas!) It sang the Marseillaise with perfect diction and Ça ira like a Jacobin. It was - and perhaps, thanks to its diet of grain, still is - a parrot sans-culotte, the like of which can no longer to be found. Mme Lebas recounted with great emotion how she had managed to save this precious psittacus after Thermidor. It had been seriously compromised. After the arrest of Robespierre and Lebas, in the course of a long domiciliary inspection, every time the name of Robespierre was pronouned the parrot would repeat its refrain, Hats off! Hats off! The government agents had grown impatient and were about to wring its neck, when Mme Lebas, as quick as lightning, grabbed the bird, opened the window and set it free. The poor parrot flew from window to window, until it found a charitable person to open up for it; a few days later Madame Lebas was able to regain possession of this last friend left to her by Robespierre, the only one perhaps, besides his elderly mistress, who has remained faithful to his memory. L’Union médicale: journal des intérêts scientifiques et pratiques, moraux et professionnels du corps médical (1861) volume 12, page 258-259. This anecdote is a bit suspect, because how would Élisabeth be able to go and fetch the parrot ”a few days” after the arrest of Robespierre when she herself was arrested just three days after it?

My husband had a dog named Schillichem, of a German breed; he only returned three days after the death of his master; he was panting, his tongue hanging out; that poor beast had passed that time on his master's grave. Le conventionnel Le Bas: d’après des documents inédits et mémoires de sa veuve (1901) page 145

Embrace Henriette for me. Schillickem (sic) caresses me a lot and I hug him back. Letter from Philippe to Élisabeth Lebas, May 16 1794

[Couthon] wore a white dressing-gown, and on his arm was a young bunny which he was feeding with clover. His son, an angelically beautiful boy of three or four, alternately stroked his father's hand and the pretty white animal. These innocent sourroundings and Couthon's great affability charmed me. […] Persuaded that Couthon was sincere I said to him: ”Monsieur Couthon, you who are all-powerful on the Committee of Public Safety, are you aware that the Revolutionary Tribunal daily condemns unfortunate men who are accused of the same crime as these magistrates? This very day, Monsieur Couthon, sixty-three prisoners are to be executed under this pretext.” This reflection produced an indescribable effect on Couthon: his face became distorted and assumed a tiger-like expression... He made a movement. The bunny was overturned and the child, weeping, rushed into his mother's arms. Extract from the memoirs of Maurice André Gaillard, cited in Romances of the French Revolution (1909) by G. Lenotre, volume 1, page 171-172

During the Constituent Assembly, at the time of the revision, I was one day with Buzot's wife, when her husband returned from the Assembly very late, bringing Pétion to dinner. It was the time when the court had them treated as factious, and painted them as intriguers, all occupied in stirring up and agitating. After the meal, Pétion, seated on a large ottoman, began to play with a young hunting dog with the abandonment of a child; they both let go and fell asleep together, snuggled on top of each other: four people conversing did not prevent Pétion from snoring. ”So here we have this rebel,” said Buzot, laughing; ”we were looked askance on leaving the room, and those who accuse us, very agitated for their party, imagine that we are to maneuver!” Mémoires de Madame Roland, volume 2, page 167

I had crossed the yard and was going to my carriage while finishing a conversation with an old sans-culotte, certainly well paid to indoctrinate the dupes. A cute dog pressed itself against my legs. “Is this poor animal yours? said my coachman to me, with an accent of sensibility very rare in his equals, and which struck me singularly. "No, I don't know it," I replied gravely, as if it were a person, and already thinking of something else entirely: ”Drop me off at the galleries of the Louvre.” I wanted to see a friend there to talk about the means of getting Roland out of Paris. But we had only gone twenty foot when the carriage stopped. "What is it?” I said to the coachman. ”Well! he left me like a fool, while I wanted to keep him for my little boy, who would have fun with it: Petit! Petit! come here!” I remembered the dog; I found it sweet and agreeable to have a good man, a sensible father, as my coachman at this hour. “Try to catch it, I shouted to him, put it in the carriage and I will guard it for you.” The good man, very happy, takes the dog, opens the door and gives me company. This poor animal seemed to feel that she was finding protection and asylum; I was well caressed, and I remembered this tale by Saadi, which depicts an old man, the last of men, repulsed by their passions, retired to a forest where he had made a dwelling. He animated his stay with a few animals which paid for his care with the affectionate testimonies of a gratitude to which he had confined himself, failing to find so much in his fellows. Mémoires de Madame Roland, volume 2, page 81-82

Fréron often visited madame Duplessis country house at Bourg-la-Reine and every time he played with the bunnies there. Hence the nickname Bunny (Lapin) that was given to him by Lucile. Footnote in Correspondance inédite de Camille Desmoulins (1836) by Marcellin Matton. Matton was a friend of Lucile’s mother and sister, and it’s probably from them he acquired this anecdote.

Monsieur Duplessis, his cabinet, the fireplace, My sister and I know you must go to the countryside one day this week. Do you remember that you for more than fifteen days have promised to bring you with us there? You told me, that if I learned Zaire, you would give me whatever I wanted. I already know it almost by heart, papa, and I’m dying to see the little piglets. My sister joins me to ask of you this same favor, and to present you the respectable attachment with which we are, my dear papa, your very humble servants. Lucile and Adèle. Undated note from child Lucile Desmoulins, probably written sometime in the 1780’s.

We have gotten ducks, I went to see them. […] I ate gooseberries, and then I was alone in the pavilion, I picked a little hornbeam which I brought to Lolotte, then I I was dreaming in the grove. Lucile Desmoulins’ diary, June 28 1788

After dinner I went for a walk in the grove. I had fun breaking dead wood, then I found a snail. I examined it a little, I broke its shell, but having fallen onto my stomach it made me cry out loud, because this ugly beast was crawling on my stomach! I made a big hole and buried it. In two or three days I will go and see what has become of it. Lucile’s diary, June 30 1788

An hour after leaving you yesterday, citoyenne amie, I gave Horace his snake (couleuvre), which he saw again with tenderness, and they played together to fully reconnect. Letter from Panis to Annette Duplessis regarding Horace Desmoulins, dated March 1 1802. If anyone has a more logical translation, alternatively knows if snakes were optional pets in the 19th century, feel free to share!

Georges Couthon at the Convention with a small dog, sketch by Dominique Vivant Denon from 1793.

Robespierre with a small dog, painting by Louis-Léopold Boilly from 1783.

#if all these reports are authentic then robespierre’s bird psychosis was worse than I first thought…#robespierre #maximilien robespierre #georges couthon #lucile desmoulins #horace desmoulins #stanislas fréron #i want couthon and fréron to start a bunny farm together just to see what happens…#ask #frev compilation #manon roland #philippe lebas

66 notes · View notes

thecrystalquill · 1 year

Text

A/N: TCMOY/NA part 3!!! Read the INTROS!!!! Tell me what you think :)

Masterlist Series Masterlist Series Intro First Years’ Intro Letter

Chapter Three - Knockturn Alley

“How about we get you a treat? A little gift, now that we have everything.” Mr Addams guided (Y/N) along, wandering down another street that looked quite interesting, seeing a sign labelled 'Knockturn Ally'. “Some jewellery perhaps, oh! how about a broom? You can have one of those now that you’re a witch.” He did love to spoil her.

(Y/N) shook her head, looking into various shop windows and over the shoulders of hunched over figures here and there. “I’m not sure about that, besides, we’re not allowed them at school yet. But I’ll get to learn to fly them at some point, might as well see if I like it first.” They wandered a little further down, it was much gloomier there; the buildings were closer together and most shops were quite dark. And it was less crowded too, much nicer than Diagon Ally, she thought. After a while, a display in a shop caught her eye, the girl didn’t see anything in particular that she found interesting, but it seemed like the sort of shop she’d like. “What about here? Can we have a look in there, Father?”

Gomez stopped his walking and made his way back to her, sticking both of his hands in his pockets and reading the name on the window. “Borgin and Burke’s. Yes, I like the sound of that, let’s go then.”

Inside, the shop was dimly lit by a few lights here and there, causing shadows to stretch across the walls and floor from many angles. There were so many strange and unusual objects dotted about, and so (Y/N) decided that this would be a good time to venture about. Her father patted her shoulder as he went to find the owner or an employee to chat with, being the ever so talkative man he was. She investigated every object she passed with a curious eye; dark red curtains that seemed to sway about on their own, a strange wardrobe, a rotting hand mirror decorated with pearls; she could have sworn she saw a silvery movement in its reflection, but she must have just imagined it. She came over to the large fireplace, investigating the little trinkets on the mantle-piece. She then came across two odd sorts of ornaments, each shaped like a hand; she inspected one closer, it reminded her of Thing, except it had more arm left and looked quite rotten and grey. Moving closer, she dragged a nail over the back of one of its bony fingers, flinching slightly as it moved to grab her, then going back to its original position. Smiling lightly, she was about to go find her father when he appeared around a corner. “There you are! I was just talking with Mr Burke and he showed me this magnificent book that I think you might like. Have you seen anything?” He came over to have a look, it appeared that he rather liked this shop as much as his daughter did.

“This ornament here, it’s a little like Thing – it moves, but it’s still just for decoration, this one isn’t quite as… sentient.” She explained and gestured towards the hand.

“Fascinating,” his eyes lit up, then he pulled her along to follow him back, “I’ll have someone pack it up for you then, but come and see this book. I think you might like it.”

They reached the counter where the owner was standing patiently, then recognised the girl and pulled this infamous book from behind the desk. “Here we are. Take a look.”

She did so, pulling it closer to inspect it. It was quite big, about five inches of parchment was piled up inside between the covers. The covers were very nice though, it was a hardback of course, the brownish colour of dark leather bound to wood, and it appeared to have some strange vine-like patterns raised up on it, which were wrapped around the side to seal it. It had a lock too, on each cover’s side, it was shaped like the foot of some kind of bird of prey, with large interlocking talons. And on the front, right in the centre, it had a wrinkly half sphere. Giving it a light poke, (Y/N) almost gasped when it opened up to reveal an abnormally-sized reptilian eye – which looked directly at her. She smiled to her father, who was discussing a necklace in a glass case, tempted to buy it.

“Is it cursed?”

“Oh yes, very cursed I’m afraid, Mr Addams.”

“How lovely – I’ll tell you what, I’ll have that too. My wife will love it.”

After leaving Knockturn Ally, Gomez and (Y/N) went home, having Lurch carry their bags into their home after the long journey. It was about five o’clock in the afternoon and the skies had begun to turn a lovely shade of grey again. Upon stepping inside, she realised that the house was finely decorated. They heard some noise coming from the room at the top of the stairs – the ball room. (Y/N) ran upstairs excitedly, hearing her father’s laugh as he followed. Reaching the entrance, she saw the sheets removed from furniture and decorations being hung, of course, not much was needed to be done being that (Y/N)’s birthday had been held here just days ago. “(Y/N), darling!” Morticia called as she drifted over, greeting the pair. “How was your day? Did you have fun?”

“It was amazing!” The girl beamed, before plunging into the details of their day excitedly. “—And then we went to this book shop, and it had so many books so we got all of the ones I’ll need for school and some others too and—”

Her mother listened intently, holding the smile on her face as (Y/N) rambled on. “Well, I’m glad you both had such a nice time. Now, about the party,” she started, tapping her nails together, “we’ll be having lots of people visiting of course, and there’ll be plenty of food I’m sure. So now, why don’t you go and help Wednesday? She’s just finishing the last of the invitations in her room.”

(Y/N) nodded before grabbing her bags and making her way to her sister’s room; she was excited to show her all of the new things she’d got, particularly the books bought from Borgin and Burke’s. She made her way upstairs, each step creaking loudly under her foot, as well as the old wooden floors nearer to her sister’s room. “Wednesday~” (Y/N) sang, unusually cheerful for an Addams (but she was the perky one, after all), and knocked on the door. Then barged in almost immediately.

“You know, the purpose of knocking is to wait to be welcomed in,” Wednesday droned, shooting a glare to her sister, who pulled up a chair next to the small desk.

“Well I wasn’t waiting to be welcomed,” replied (Y/N) teasingly, leaning over to see the addresses written on the envelopes. Wednesday’s writing was, admittedly, quite impressive; far better than her father’s and definitely better than Pugsley’s. She’d practised her calligraphy skills quite a lot, taking pride in mastering different fonts for different occasions, which inks to use, or how to address people of different statuses. “You almost done yet?”

Wednesday sighed and resisted the urge to roll her eyes, adding the final letter to the pile. “Yes,” she stated, taking out a candle, six sticks of wax, two wax spoons, and a seal with the Addams Family crest. “Red or black?” She asked, holding up the wax sticks – sealing all of these letters by herself would take hours.

Giving a knowing look, (Y/N) nudged her sister in the side (also knowing how much she hated it). “Oh come on, you want the black one anyway.” She said, taking the red wax from her hands and gathering a few letters. “But I’m having the spoon with the leather handle.”

“No…” Wednesday complained, hating to give up her favourite one, but handing it over anyway; both making their way through the letters slowly. It would take anyone else a long time to do so; having to heat the spoons over the candle to melt the wax, pour it out, and stamp it, for each letter, but the two of them did this often and had learnt to do it much faster. Within only an hour they had already gotten through more than half of the pile, all ready to be sent to every friend and family member before the end of the day.

The party would be a large one – far more guests than (Y/N)’s birthday had entertained – their parents were determined to show off and celebrate their eldest child’s acceptance into the wizarding community, and into Hogwarts. By the end of the week, practically everyone they had ever known would be well aware of (Y/N)’s newfound magic; and by the end of August they would all be wine-ing and dining in the Addams’ ballroom, yet again. The family were known among their community as quite the extravagant celebrators, using practically any excuse to invite their peers and dance the night away. An example would be the party they threw for Pugsley when he made his first grenade; many people were invited, and nobody went home until far past midnight. So of course, this news would be more than lionised – after all, being the first witch in the family in just over a century was no little deal.

However, as much as (Y/N) appreciated the acknowledgement and this certain ‘honour’ she had brought back to the family name, she was a little worried about overshadowing her siblings. She was never so comfortable receiving a lot of attention, especially considering how Pugsley loved it so much. But she understood that it seemed appropriate; one last party before she’s off to a mysterious magical boarding school wouldn’t kill her. At least she had time to be with her family before she had to leave – but the thought of doing so erupted feelings of both excitement and dread in the pits of her stomach. After all, she saw her family every single day – she and Wednesday were very close, and she and Pugsley often experimented with explosives together, she would even miss her parents’ public displays of affection – and suddenly not seeing them everyday would be a massive change. And being surrounded by strangers would definitely add to her discomfort – people were not her expertise.

But to make up for her guilt, (Y/N) decided to give something to her (secretly) favourite sibling. “Hey Wednesday,” she said, stamping another letter sealed and sliding it aside, “today at Diagon Alley, I got you something.”

Though Wednesday often wasn’t the best at showing her feelings, (Y/N) could tell that she was surprised; obviously she hadn’t been expecting a gift. She skipped over to the door where her bags had been discarded on entry and raided through some things, until finally, she pulled out an object wrapped in brown paper, then handed it over to her sister. Wednesday opened it cautiously, but quickly, and tore the paper away to reveal an old glass jar filled to the brim with dried leaves and flowers, and a browning label with lovely hand-writing. “’Atropa Belladonna (Deadly Nightshade)’?” The girl read aloud, allowing herself to show the smallest smile.

(Y/N) nodded, glad that her sister appreciated it – though she hardly had a doubt; the two of them collected various chemicals and poisons, and were very proud of their collections, just one of the ways they bonded. “It’s from this apothecary in Italy, apparently they’ve been selling illegal plants there since 1866. We got it from this shop in Knockturn Alley, Shyverwretch’s Venoms and Poisons, I’ll take you there next time if you’d like?”

Wednesday nodded and opened the jar, taking a whiff of its deadly contents before placing it on her shelf with the rest of her collection. “Thank you, (Y/N).” She said as she took her seat.

“Of course, I can’t wait to take you next time,” Replied (Y/N), then patted Wednesday on the shoulder – earning another scowl – and stood up. “Anyway, I need to start planning and packing and what not, wouldn’t want to miss anything out.” She picked up her things and left the room, leaving the door wide open behind her, much to her sister’s annoyance.

(Y/N) had a nice view of the coast from her room; their home sat atop a hill just past Whitby Abbey, giving her a perfect view from her bedroom window. She drew back her long violet drapes, letting in the light, only to then find two green eyes staring back at her. “Jinx!” She exclaimed, grabbing the little black kitten and sitting him on her lap, stroking his head affectionately. “You scared me, you little devil,” she cooed, getting a little ‘mew’ in return. The kitten had been a gift for her birthday, a black cat of course, whom - after many votes from several family members - she named Jinxy (a close second was Styx, suggested by Wednesday, after the Damnéd River of Souls). He had silky soft fur and the most brilliant green eyes, and (Y/N) absolutely loved him. “Are you excited to come to Hogwarts with me?” She mumbled into the top of his head as she peppered him with little kisses, “At least I’ll have one familiar face there,” she whispered, pulling him closer as the heavy pit in her stomach grew. She’d never been away from home before, not for so long at least; she was beyond anxious, but she was an Addams, she’d be fine. Surely.

Tag list:

• @boyaddams

• @too-attached-to-fiction

• @kpopgirlbtssvt

• @lady-of-lies

• @twsssmlmaa

• @asadbisexual1

• @sugakookiemonter

• @theyaremorethanjustfictional

• @curlszx88

• @cocopuffs1450

• @siriuslysirius1107

• @miiikkeey

• @purpleflamebluesparkles

• @qisunny

• @clxwnkid

• @milfho

• @lilqi

• @zavijanje-na-mesecini

• @steves-sweetheart-blog

• @fanlovedlt

• @brthofafish

• @evilunicorns4minions

• @rottenstyx

• @dweeb-central

• @leafanonsforest

• @hellion-writes

• @rory-cakes

• @monstruositylad

• @ladyslytherin7

Let me know if you want to be tagged (or if I miss-tagged you). :)

#harry potter crossover #harry potter golden era x reader #x addams!reader #yn addams #harry potter addams family crossover #addams family x reader #Addams family x Addams!reader #harry potter #x reader #harry potter x reader #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter au #the curious misadventures of y/n addams

152 notes · View notes

aigoos · 6 months

Text

Hanami | Oneshot Fluffy "Japan Obikin" | Rating: T | Words: 1,000~

Summary: Obi-Wan and Anakin visit a planet during its cherry blossom season.

Artworks by the amazing @kana7o. She brought my Japan!Obikin idea to its digital glory, so those artworks inspired this ficlet. Many thanks to @finandres for betaing and making great improvements and to @wibzenadarksiderwithasoftheart for also looking it over!

Nipponica is a beautiful planet, especially during their cherry blossom season. You will love it there. I wish I could go there again myself.

Obi-Wan walked over to the window of the inn, cradling his mug of tea, and stared outside. The inn overlooked a Nipponican garden, and he saw miles of pink-topped trees. In between them, glimpses of green from the grass and bushes and blue from the river that flowed through the garden could be seen. A small shrine stood by the river, which could be crossed via a wooden bridge.

Plo is right. This place is beautiful.

Obi-Wan took a deep breath, feeling the slightly cool spring breeze. He could hear birds chirping nearby and gentle splashing from the river. The whole place was serene and tranquil, and he felt the urge to meditate.

But then a loud snore broke through his reverie and he turned to face the bed and its cacophonous symphony.

Anakin had sprawled out like a great bird of prey and he snored thunderously, his mouth slightly open and drooling on the pillow.

Obi-Wan snorted softly as he stared at his endearing lover. Oh, Anakin. Never change, my dearest one.

He turned back to the window to enjoy the peace a little bit longer, somehow managing to tune out his beloved's snoring.

*****

When Anakin finally awoke, they had breakfast together and then prepared to head out to the garden.

They were given Nipponican outfits to wear for the walk. There was a yukata, a robe-like garment with an obi that went around the waist. Anakin's outfit was black with a dark red obi, and Obi-Wan's was a patterned blue with a beige obi. They also had tabi and zori -- split-toe socks and sandals. Anakin's were dark and Obi-Wan's were light. Their entire outfits' colours matched their personal aesthetics, and they made for a handsome pair.

"Help me with this sash, Master."

"It's not a sash -- it's an obi," Obi-Wan explained as he stepped closer and plucked the obi from Anakin's hands.

"And it wraps around my waist, right? Just like you? Is that why they are called 'obi'?"

"Anakin!" Obi-Wan couldn't help but blush at his words "No need to be uncivilised--"

"Oh, so when you wrap your legs around my waist and hang onto my neck for your life as I pound you--"

"Anakin!" Obi-Wan flushed harder as he wrapped the obi around Anakin's waist, perhaps a bit tighter than necessary. "Enough. Maybe I need to wrap this around your neck!"

"Now who's being uncivilised?" Anakin jested as he brought his flesh hand up to cup Obi-Wan's warm and rosy cheek, gently thumbing his cheekbone.

"You're hopeless."

"Never, Master, not when I have you."

Anakin's blue eyes were dark and intense, filled with so much love and passion that Obi-Wan's breath hitched as he stared into them. There was just something about Anakin's eyes that always put him in a trance as he automatically tied the obi into its proper knot. Without thinking, he leaned up to kiss Anakin gently on the lips and felt his lover's strong arms going around his waist, and he melted into the embrace. "And I have you."

They stood together for a minute, both lost in their stares, before Obi-Wan reluctantly stepped back and cleared his throat. "Let's head to the garden -- I don't think you'd want to miss out on the cherry blossom viewing. I believe the locals call it 'hanami'."

"Aw, kark. I was hoping I could kriff you while we have these on."

The scandalised look on Obi-Wan's face had Anakin bent over laughing. Obi-Wan walked out of the room first, grumbling to himself about his insatiable and very unromantic partner.

*****

The view from the windows was nothing compared to being in the garden. Obi-Wan felt utterly at peace as he and Anakin strolled down the well-trodden path. The views were breathtaking, and the falling cherry blossom petals made it seem like it was snowing.

"This place is so mesmerising," Obi-Wan whispered as he and Anakin approached the bridge. The river was very clear, with lily pads floating on the surface. There were rocks artistically scattered here and there, and a stone lantern sat nearby on the riverbank. Their zori made clicking noises on the bridge, which sounded soothing with the sound of the flowing river next to them. Obi-Wan stopped in the middle of the bridge to take in the cherry blossoms, and Anakin paused next to him. From the corner of his eye, he saw the younger man reach out his mechno arm and open up his hand to catch the falling petals.

Obi-Wan could sense his tranquillity through their bond. The fact that this place enthralled Anakin filled him with joy.

"It really is peaceful here," Anakin muttered softly. "I'd like to come back here someday with you."

"I agree. It would be nice to come here every year if our missions allowed it."

"Mmm. Think we can take these clothes with us?"

Obi-Wan blinked in confusion. "Sorry?"

Anakin shrugged, acting nonchalant, but Obi-Wan didn't miss the mischievous spark in his eyes. "You look awfully sexy in these robes, Master. They fit you much better than your Jedi outfits, and it'd be much easier to take off when we--"

"Anakin!" Obi-Wan hissed.

Anakin chortled, and he put his arm around Obi-Wan's shoulder. "Come on, Master. Let's go get some of those round treats on a stick. They look pretty tasty."

"Dango, dear one." Obi-Wan leaned into Anakin's warm body, and he allowed him to lead their way to the nearby teahouse on the other side of the river. He could feel the petals swirling around them as if they were blessing them both. He smiled softly and hoped they could return.

~ Fin ~

A03 URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/51401725

#obikin #obikin fanfic #obikin fanfiction #obi wan kenobi #anakin skywalker #my fic #hanami #japanese influenced idea #with artworks #fanart #obikin fanart #kana7o is bloody amazing #commission

24 notes · View notes

archonsoflove · 1 year

Note

Hi! I'm here to request a x reader fic (its for myself, cause I'm not having the greatest time right now hehe)

Can you write a fic about reader went into a haunted house with her friends just to adventure and take some valuables, but they got lost in the long hallways while trying to steal some jewelry in a random room. Then Vampire! Pantalone decided to play with this new prey of his since it's rare for him to take interest in any human

I prefer fem reader, smut (predator and prey, humiliation, dub-con)

I really hope you would like this trope, cause I've been thinking about this for weeks

You can make any changes if you want to, anything suits your style

Thank you, take care✌️

The Red Mansion

Vampire! Pantalone x Female! Treasure Hoarder Reader

Warnings: Explicit Sexual Content, DubCon Implied, Biting, Marking, Mentions of Blood

Word Count: 2k

It was time. Your pocket watch glinted in the pale moonlight as you checked the hour. Midnight. To the tee. The moon was full over Mount Aocang and your group was ready to head out into the forest below. The air was cool and came out in small clouds past your chapped lips. It was now or never.

“Let’s go on ahead!” you called to the others over your shoulder, already trudging into the forestry.

The tapestry above you rang out with the songs of birds nesting for the evening. Bats skittered across the sky and dove down, catching their prey. A chill crept up your spine. Bats were the least of your worries now…

“Getting cold feet?” Michael, a fellow hoarder, bumped his shoulder into yours teasingly.

“Ah ha,” you forced a laugh. “Not at all. Just a bit shocked that we’re actually going through with this.”

“We do need the money,” he shrugged, his eyes sad and understanding…and was that sympathy?

He was right, though. Your family awaited your return to the Sumeru deserts. And their wages would only hold them out for so long…

The wind whispered past you as you walked along the path; the looming peaks above you giving you vertigo. Knowing these mountains knew so much, and held so much age, made you feel incredibly small.

“They said the mansion should be around here somewhere,” Hashime, your leader, mumbled to himself.

“I think I see something up ahead.” Your eyes caught a sliver of colour in the distance. The Red Mansion. That was what everyone was after these days. Intel had informed your group, for a large price, that the Mansion was at the foot of a mountain near Mount Aocang. But they had warily given over the location.

“There are rumours amongst the villagers that something strange lives within that house. Something that isn’t human,” the Treasure Hoarder had told your group, his eyes wide.

“It is common knowledge that the adepti wander around these mountains,” you had brushed him off. “I highly doubt they will see us as a threat to Liyue.”

The Red Mansion came into view now. It was a sight for sore eyes to say the least. Your breath caught in your throat. Was it from fear or excitement? You weren’t able to tell.

Mist crept up the sides of the Mansion, a soft embrace encased in moonlight. It was beautiful.

“Here we go boys.” Adjusting your pack on your shoulders, you made your way to the door.

The handle was dusty on your fingertips, and the door opened, letting out a gust of cold air. Goosebumps rose on your skin. Compared to the natural chill of a spring evening, this was somehow a darker type of ice.

“You two take this floor, I’ll take the next,” you said over your shoulder, not daring to look back. You knew you would hightail out of here if you did.

The Red Mansion was definitely living up to its name. Red cherry wood furnishing lay under white sheets, and a vase of fresh, crimson roses lay on a glass table.

“For a haunted mansion, this looks quite lived in to me,” you murmured to yourself, fingers running along the glass table as you walked by it, to the room at the back.

Who dares to trespass into my home?

A male voice caressed your ears sweetly just as your hands grasped the handle. You gasped, whirling around.

“Why, out of all things, I never expected a human to wander in here.” The man raised a lithe finger to push up his glasses. Delicate jewels hung from either side, catching the light and shining beautifully.

“Um…-“

“Don’t even start,” the man waved you off, a sigh leaving his lips. “I know exactly why you are here, darling.”

Your back was against the door you were previously trying to open, the man before you stepping closer with every word he said. His eyes glimmered predatorily in the dark.

He bent down, his eyes meeting yours. “Do you know what is through that door?”

“No,” you whispered, not knowing why you were being so quiet. You should have been calling for help.

“Oh?” a hand came to rest on the wall beside your head, his other hand coming up to grasp your chin lightly. “And why don’t I believe you?”

His ghost fanned your lips, his nose close enough to touch yours. His eyes narrowed and a gasp caught in your throat as you saw the red swimming in his violet eyes, consuming them whole.

“You’re-you’re-“

“A vampire?” He let out a sinister chuckle at that, his canines showing, sharp and white. “I thought you had already noticed something odd about me.”

A gloved hand grasped your hand quick enough for it to hurt.

“I could smell you from the doorway,” he hissed breathily, his tongue tracing your pulse on your wrist. “Your friends are nothing compared to you. But you know this already, I am sure?”

“How did you…how did you know?” you were stunned, eyes wide. No one knew. Was the blood running through your veins so different?

He took a deep breath and leaned forward again, staring so deeply into your eyes that you felt dizzy. You were supposed to be afraid, but those crimson eyes sunk into your soul and clawed at the parts of you that many never dared to seek out.

“Such a beautiful specimen, and such a young half-breed Oni.”

Your blood ran cold, the feeling of his fingers grazing the nape of your neck making your skin crawl.

“Don’t be so surprised,” he murmured, fangs grazing your jawline. “Your scent is sweet, and tempting. It has been a long time since I have had your kind cross paths with me.”

“I should leave then,” you managed to spit out, venom seeping into your shaky words. You sounded weak. frail. Vulnerable.

“So soon?” Hands shot out to push your shoulders hard against the door. “It has been so long since I have had company. You will stay a while.”

Your eyes couldn’t leave his. It was an order. He had given you an order and you had to obey. Your instincts screamed at you to run. But you were long gone, into a state of dazedness this creature had set you in.

Going limp in his arms, he reached behind you to open the door. Half holding you up, you fell into what was most definitely a study. A warm fireplace for light, lamps on the hardwood desk, and a long couch for leisure in the corner by the window.

You felt the silk cushions on the couch brush your skin as you were laid down.

“As you should know, vampires feed on others,” he started, sounding as if he were a lecturer, and you were his doting apprentice. “And you are no different than a human in this sense.”

On your back, he hovered over you now, a finger tracing down your neck and a hand sprawled across your chest.

“I am going to devour you whole, darling.”

His sultry voice sank you deeper into a hypnotised state. You felt his hands run up and down the sides of your body. You were trapped. His prey.

“This might hurt. But I’ll look after you. You have my word.”

Hands gripped tightly to your hips. Teeth sunk into your neck with a dull throb of pain.

“What-what are you doing to me?” you managed to choke out, your breath airy.

You couldn’t move an inch. His hands found their way to your thighs, gripping harshly. A gasp left your lips. Your head felt light. You couldn’t think of anything else but his body over yours.

“Hush, now.” A gentle nudge of his nose against yours had your eyes opening to meet his.

“That wasn’t so bad now, was it?”

Your eyes flickered down to his lips as he spoke, watching his tongue collect the drops of blood that had escaped his mouth.

“Hmm?” he inched back a bit, on his haunches above you now.

“You’ll be quite surprised to see how wonderful I can make this experience for you. My sweet darling, relax.”

He emphasized his last words with a shove to your thighs, pushing them apart. Your eyes widened in shock as nimble fingers undid your traveling pants, pushing them down mid-thigh.

“Now…” his eyes wandered over your body sprawled out beneath him, crimson gaze ravenous, “where were we?”

With a sharp intake of breath, he gripped your wrist again.

“Remember,” he whispered against your fingers, “relax for me.”

You did anything but as teeth sunk into your wrist, the skin thinner and more sensitive there. An unwilling moan left your lips as his other hand gently grazed your clothed sex. You were floating, far, far away, the only thing anchoring you down being the ebbs of pleasure flowing through your veins in waves.

His fingers deftly slid below your undergarments, pressing and circling your clit just right. Again and again and again. An unvoluntary shiver racked through you. Pantalone hummed, licking at your wrist, eyes never leaving yours.

Just when your vision grew faint around the edges, you felt him release your wrist from his hold. Your arm fell to your side uselessly, your chest rising and falling with uneven breaths. He hadn’t stopped touching you. To your disgust you felt warm coiling tightly in your body.

“You’re close, aren’t you, hmm?” a smug smile fell into place, bloodstained lips stark against his teeth. “You did so well for me, so please, come for me.”

The combined shock of his command, with his fingers pressing harder onto your sex, and his teeth returning to your neck, your vision went white, warmth washing over your body as you came. A silent gasp shaped on your lips.

You don’t remember when you came to again. it could have been hours, minutes or seconds.

Your eyes opened a crack, flinching at the morning light shining brightly outside.

“I see you are finally awake.”

Your heart skipped a beat upon hearing that smooth voice agan. Your eyes flicked over to see him in the corner of the study, in shadows. You had hoped it was all one terrible dream, yet here you were, on this couch, sprawled out, limbs aching.

“Who are you?” you managed to inquire, your voice cracked and raw.

“Pantalone,” was his short reply.

“And where have you-”

“The treasure?” he chuckled and shook his head. “My, after all this time, you still are quite stubborn, aren’t you?”

You should have felt ashamed, but you ignored the humiliation stirring in your gut. Standing up on shaky feet, you grasped the arm of the couch to keep yourself steady. The room swam before you as your vision tried to still itself.

“You are quite the delicacy,” he hummed in approval, a complacent smile in place. “It’s a shame you will have to leave so soon.”

“Where is it?” you snapped; patience thin. “You have taken me, violated me, and all I need to do is look after my family.”

Your voice shook. “I didn’t ask for any of this.”

To your surprise, his eyes softened.

Leaning on the couch still to hold yourself up, you watched him with teary eyes. Your body ached. You were freezing and you wanted to leave.

Pantalone opened a drawer, rummaging around for a while before finding a small velvet box. He approached you as if you were a small deer, ready to flee at any moment.

It serves you right, you bastard, you thought to yourself.

“Take this.” He pressed the box into your hand. “You won’t find this Cor Lapis anywhere else. It’ll provide you with enough Mora for ten lifetimes over.”

A scoff left your mouth as you opened the box. Two Cor Lapis earrings sat on the velvet cushioning. He wasn’t lying. This was high grade. The finest grade, at that.

You pocketed the box and met his eyes.

“This won’t make me forgive you. I hope we never cross paths again, Pantalone.”

His name was like poison on your tongue, leaving a bitter taste in its wake as you walked out the door and back into the world waiting for you outside.

The rumours turned out to be true in the end. The Red Mansion truly was haunted.

MASTERLIST

168 notes · View notes