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serpentandlily · 4 months

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Sly Fox, Dumb Bunny III

Sly Fox, Dumb Bunny - Eris x Archeron!Reader

Summary: You find yourself ensnared by a sly, cunning fox. A very handsome, irritating one.

Warnings: none

a/n: hope you enjoy this one just as much as the others!

➻❥ Part I ➻❥ Part II

· · ─────── ·♡· ─────── · ·

Part III

· · ─────── ·♡· ─────── · ·

“That was…weird,” Mor remarked.

You agreed. You had no idea what to make of Eris’s behavior. Feyre and Rhys seemed to be locked in a mental conversation, leaving the rest of you to silence. You rubbed at your arm, suddenly feeling very uncomfortable. You didn’t want to create any problems for your sister but you also didn’t want to leave.

“He had a point,” Rhys finally said before looking at you with those violet eyes that reminded you far too much of a certain pair of amber ones. They both held too many secrets. “But I don’t think Beron will prove to be much of a problem as long as we keep his focus on other things.”

Feyre nodded along. “Besides, what is Beron going to do about it, anyways? Short of killing us, there is nothing to be done.”

You felt a flicker of fear but pushed it down. Rhys was the most powerful High Lord. Surely he would defend you and your sister if it came down to it. Feyre was also powerful in her own right and could fight for herself but you…

“We won’t let any harm come to you,” Rhys promised, his voice softening. “And what did I say about keeping those mental shields up?”

You turned red and quickly slammed the gates to your mind closed.

“I would like to stay,” you mumbled, sheepishly. “But I don’t want to cause problems.”

Mor waved a dismissive hand. “Nonsense. Eris talks out of his ass most of the time. He probably just wanted to put us on edge. You being here is not a problem, doll.”

You didn’t feel comforted in the slightest.

“Well, if that's settled,” Rhys said, standing up. “I believe it is time for us to make our way towards the meeting room.”

You let out a breath, trying to settle your nerves from Eris’s display. Feyre gave you a small smile, linking her arm through yours. “Don’t look so nervous. There’s going to be some friendly faces in the crowd.”

You nodded, still feeling anxious about the whole thing. Although you hardly considered Vassa and Jurian your friends, at least you were familiar with them. Unfortunately, you were also familiar enough with Lord Nolan and his son.

Feyre placed her other hand in Rhys’s extended elbow and the two of them led you out of the chambers and into the wide corridor. Your breaths were still shaky once your group got to the staircase that would lead you to the meeting room with the reflection pool.

Feyre unwrapped her arm from yours and Azriel stepped forward instead.

“Azriel is going to escort you in,” she explained. “If you feel nervous, just stay by his side. Okay?”

You gave her a small nod and let them lead the way forward. When your group finally reached the top of the staircase, you were a bit relieved to see that the Autumn Court wasn’t present yet. Your eyes darted around the room, landing on all the various High Lords and their entourages, trying to place them in their respective courts.

“That right there is Tarquin,” Azriel whispered from beside you, following your eyesight. “High Lord of Summer.”

“And him?”

“Kallias, High Lord of Winter. His wife and mate, Vivianne, is the female next to him.”

“Another High Lady?”

“Not quite,” Azriel answered. He inclined his head towards a different group. “That’s Helion, High Lord of the Day Court.”

The male he nodded to was quickly approaching your group, a serpentine smile on his face. Gods, you were still not quite used to how beautiful the fae were. Helion looked like a God in his own right. His eyes passed over your group until they landed on you and lingered for a second longer.

You watched as he greeted Feyre, Rhysand and Mor before turning his head towards you and Azriel.

“Shadowsinger,” he nearly purred, “Always happy to see you.”

Azriel didn’t smile, didn’t move. In fact, he shot the High Lord an exasperated look as if this flirtatious behavior was all too common. That didn’t stop you from blushing when the High Lord looked at you and smiled coyly.

“And who might you be?”

He reached out a hand but before you could open your mouth, the High Lord was suddenly knocked to the side, stumbling over himself.

“My apologies, High Lord,” Eris sneered at Helion. “Perhaps you shouldn’t stand in the middle of a walkway.”

Eris strode away before Helion could even respond, his brothers trailing after him, glaring around the room. Your jaw nearly dropped at his audacity but you quickly schooled your face, watching Helion glare at their backs. He seemed to shake off the encounter quickly, his charming persona snapping back into place as your sister came up on your side.

“Helion,” she said, “this is my sister, Y/n. She’s here to help us discuss the peace treaty with the humans.”

Your introduction with Helion was short lived as Thesan called for the start of the meeting now that everyone was here. The first half of the meeting was just with the fae before the human leaders were to be brought in. Since you were primarily there for the humans, your thoughts drifted away as the fae leaders began their discussions.

Your eyes trailed over all the courts—taking interest in how different each fae looked depending on where they came from. But your gaze kept falling on one fae in particular. The red headed male sat behind his daunting father. He hadn’t once looked in your direction. Part of you was glad for it, because it would be embarrassing to be caught blatantly staring at him as you were. Another part of you longed for him to look your way… You had no idea where that feeling came from.

Eris was dressed far more formally than he had been the last two times you had seen him. He wore a dark green vest stitched with golden thread, tiny leaves embroidered along the seams, on top of a cream button up. A golden fox brooch was pinned at the neck of his collar, probably the Vanserra family’s emblem. His pants were an even darker green, almost appearing black and neatly tucked into his boots. Around his shoulders was a matching green cape coat embellished in gold detailing much like his vest.

His red hair looked like a raging fire next to all the green, his pale skin glistening in the soft lighting of the room. He was so distractingly beautiful, even with that familiar haughty smirk on his face. It didn’t matter that there were far more powerful, commanding fae in the room. Your eyes could not keep off him.

Like a moth to flame.

Eris’s honey amber eyes finally met yours and you felt something snapped inside of you. You gasped as a golden thread unraveled within you and shot out across the room—all the way to the male seated across from you….all the way to Eris.

Mate.

The word clanged through your head, drowning all other thoughts.

Mate.

Eris was your mate.

In your shock, you missed the warning look Eris shot your way. You gasped, loudly, drawing the attention of the room as you stood so suddenly, your chair was knocked to the ground behind you. Your heart was pounding in your chest, that golden thread thrumming with sparks of flame.

Your sister quickly rose from her seat, placing a hand on your upper arm to steady you. Azriel too had jumped up, his hand ghosting over Truth-teller, as if ready for whatever invisible threat was occuring.

Eris stood abruptly, almost panting. Your eyes never left those amber ones. Not even as they seemed to plead with you to sit, to hide, to disappear from this room entirely.

“What’s wrong?” Feyre asked, her voice hurried and filled with concern. Her eyes followed your line of sight and darted back to you and down to the hand you held to your chest.

Rhysand seemed to catch on to what was happening quicker.

“Azriel, get her out of here,” he ordered the shadowsinger.

A scarred hand wrapped around yours and a second later, you were engulfed in a wave of shadows.

· · ─────── ·♡· ─────── · ·

“Rhysand,” Thesan said, “Please answer for that display. What antics have occurred in your court to disrupt such a meeting?”

Feyre’s hands were shaking as Rhysand latched onto them, guiding her back to her chair softly. “Apologies, Y/n is still a bit sensitive to magic since coming out of the cauldron. You’ll have to forgive her sudden departure.”

“And here I thought you had moved on from your lying and deceiving ways, Rhysand,” Beron jumped in, his voice filled with wicked amusement. “It appears a congratulation is in order.” He turned to face his son. “It seems to me that a mating bond has just snapped into place.”

Eris’s face was unreadable as he sat back down, fists clenched at his sides.

“Explain yourselves,” Tarquin interjected, looking bemused. “How do you have another Made female in your court, Rhysand?”

“She is my sister,” Feyre declared. “And she was there the day Hybern forced all of them into the cauldron.”

“Why was she not included in the reports from that day?” Thesan asked, sitting up straighter.

“She was under our protection,” Rhysand answered. “She was hardly more than a child at the time.”

“Liar. She never came out of the cauldron,” Tamlin said, sharply, eyes narrowing. “Your reports never included her because she never came out of the cauldron that day.”

“Well, considering you all just saw her alive and in person,” Rhysand shrugged, picking a piece of lint from his coat. “Obviously, she did. Perhaps your head was too far up Hybern’s ass to see.”

Tamlin growled but was cut off by Beron.

“Where have you taken my son’s mate?” Beron demanded.

“That is none of your concern.”

“Rhysand, you cannot possibly keep her away from her mate,” Thesan said. “He is entitled—”

“He is entitled to nothing,” Feyre snapped. “The Night Court does not force females to accept mating bonds. As she falls under our jurisdiction, she has our full protection against any of your antiquated beliefs.”

“Leave it to the Night Court to spit on traditions,” Beron hissed. “A mating bond works both ways. As the other half falls under my jurisdiction, my son has all the right to invoke a blood duel if you wish to keep her from him.”

The Lady of Autumn looked alarmed at her husband’s words but said nothing. Neither did Eris, who seemed to be choosing his next moves very carefully.

“Wouldn’t be the first time the Night Court stole a female away,” Tamlin said, sarcastically, rolling his eyes.

“Oh please, spare us from revisiting your despair,” Helion chuckled, humorlessly.

“Have we all forgotten why we are here today?” Kallias cut in, his tone cold. “Must we argue over something that does not involve the rest of our courts? This meeting has already been derailed and some of us have better things to do with our time then listen to squabbles.”

“This is not over, Rhysand,” Beron hissed. Eris still sat stoically behind his father, not faltering in the slightest. “You and I have much to discuss after we deal with the humans lest you wish to start a conflict between our courts.”

“Fine,” Rhysand growled. “But prepare yourself and your son for disappointment.”

· · ─────── ·♡· ─────── · ·

You paced in the sitting room in the River House, your heart still beating rapidly, your thoughts out of control. A mating bond. A godsdamn mating bond had snapped between you and Eris of all people. Eris, the male whose reputation followed him like darkened clouds. Eris, the male who had left Mor to die in the woods all those years ago. Eris, the Heir of Autumn, the son of one of the most ruthless fae in all of Prythian.

Surely it was a mistake. It had to be.

“Why don’t you sit down?” Elain suggested, gently, patting the cushion beside her on the couch. “Feyre will get it all sorted out. You needn’t worry so much.”

“How can I not worry? How can I not worry when Eris of all people is my mate, Elain?” You rubbed at your chest, already feeling an emptiness there now that you had been separated from him. “This must be a mistake. A trick, perhaps?”

“Perhaps,” Elain agreed, though she didn’t sound like she believed it for one second. “But there’s not much you can do about it now. Not until they return from the meeting.”

You let out a long breath and plopped onto the couch next to her. Elain brushed a hand through your hair, guiding you to lay down on her lap. “It’ll be okay, Y/n. A mating bond isn’t the end of all things. Feyre would never let that male get his hands on you.”

But that was the problem, wasn’t it? Some part of you wanted that male. Not the Eris that the others saw. But the one you had seen in those secret moments between the two of you. The alluring fox behind the mask.

Your heart sang for him now that the mating bond had snapped into place. He hadn’t seemed surprised in the slightest….like he had already known about it. Had it snapped for him? Had he known this whole time that you were his mate? Why wouldn’t he tell you? Maybe…

maybe he didn’t want you…

Hours went by. The whole night passed. You didn’t stray from the couch, neither did Elain. You appreciated your sister comforting you. You wished Nesta wasn’t on her mating vacation and was here to help you as well…maybe she would know what to do.

The door to the house opening had you sitting up, rubbing at your red rimmed eyes. Elain woke abruptly as well, wiping the drool that was dribbling from the corner of her mouth. Feyre, Rhysand and Mor strode in, all looking just as exhausted as you.

“Well, I’m glad that shitshow is over,” Mor said, falling on one of the settees dramatically.

A second later, Amren and Azriel came into the room, both wearing unreadable expressions. Amren’s silver eyes studied you for a moment before moving to Feyre and Rhysand.

“How’d it go?”

“Awful,” Rhysand sighed. “No one could come to an agreement.”

“Did the humans not want to sign?” You asked, purposefully avoiding the other topic.

Feyre shook her head. “No, they were…even less receptive than we thought they’d be.”

“What happens now?” Elain asked.

“We go through that again and again, I suppose,” Rhys answered. “Until a peace treaty is signed.”

The room fell into a heavy silence until you broke it, minutes later.

“And…and what of…” You trailed off, unable to say the words, unable to ask about the male that had been on your mind since you had been whisked away from the meeting.

“Beron will be visiting the Court of Nightmares tomorrow,” Rhys said, hesitantly, gauging your emotions. “To discuss what is to be done. It is unfortunate that he knows about the bond now because there is little Eris can do as long as his father is in power.”

“He can finally kill the bastard,” Mor grumbled into a pillow.

“We must tread carefully,” Amren said. “If Eris is forced to call for a blood duel against Rhysand, he will die and one of his brutish brothers will be next in line for the throne.”

“What!” You exclaimed. “A blood duel? Would he…would he really do that? Fight Rhysand even if it means certain death?”

Eris was powerful, sure. But he was still only an heir, not a full blown High Lord like Rhysand. He would be misted in seconds. Just that thought of it sent you into a panic.

“I’ll fight him in your place,” Azriel said, darkly, looking at Rhys but he shook his head.

“We cannot risk that,” Rhys said.

“Do you really think Beron would have his own son fight and die in a blood duel?” Feyre asked.

“Of course he would. One less person he has to keep off his throne,” Amren said.

“He’s a monster,” Elain whispered, staring at you with concern.

“Yes, he is,” Rhys sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “So we must do as Amren said and tread very carefully.”

· · ─────── ·♡· ─────── · ·

The next day, you stood in the foyer of the River House, dressed in a simple dark blue, silk dress. Your stomach was tossing and turning with nerves, scared of what would happen during this meeting with Beron. You hated that you were causing your sister and Rhysand so much stress, hated that you were in the middle of this conflict.

You wished you could turn back time. Wished you could go back to that moment the mating bond snapped so you could hide the realization better. You had always worn your heart on your sleeve and it had finally bit you in the ass.

You had no idea how today was going to play out.

You were certain of one thing, though. You ached to see Eris again. The mating bond had nearly kept you up all night. Feyre had tried teaching you how to block if off, but it was hard. Eris seemed to have no problem keeping his side of the bond locked down. It infuriated you to know he was probably feeling every single emotion from you.

“Are you ready?” Rhys asked as Feyre, Mor and Azriel slid into view.

Rhys and Feyre were dressed like they always were when making trips to Hewn City. Mor wore a scandalous red dress that clung to her beautiful curves and Azriel wore his Illyrian leathers, as per usual, all seven siphons on display.

You nodded, unable to even speak.

The next hour seemed to happen while you were stuck in a daze. Rhys winnowed you all to Hewn City and led you into the throne room where everyone was waiting. Word must’ve spread quickly of what had occurred. Keir escorted Beron and Eris into the throne room after the formalities were done.

You couldn’t find the nerve to look at Eris now that you were in the same room. You had shown your hand during that meeting and had caused an avalanche to fall in its wake. You felt guilty, ashamed and scared…so scared.

A dumb bunny, indeed.

Rhys and Feyre led you all to a private meeting room, shutting the door in Keir’s face as he tried to join. You sat, hiding your shaking hands in your lap, keeping your eyes on the floor.

“Well, I assume you have come to your senses by now,” Beron said, leaning back in his chair as if he commanded the room. “The girl comes with us. The Night Court owes Autumn a bride as it is.”

His glare focused on Mor for a moment and she scoffed in his direction.

“Not so fast, Beron,” Rhysand tsked, pouring himself a glass of wine. “We don’t owe you anything. It was your court that ultimately broke the marriage agreement all those years ago.”

Beron sat up with a sneer. “I believe it was broken the moment that girl decided to whore herself out to an Illyrian bastard of all people.”

You tensed in your seat, gripping the dress in your fists.

“Father, please,” Eris sighed, making you look up at him finally.

Beron glanced at his son before turning back to Rhysand. “You should be overjoyed that we’re willing to take the girl as it is, considering the beasts in your court have probably ran through her already.”

“Watch your mouth,” Feyre snapped.

The smell of burning wood filled the room and Eris flexed his hands, new scorch marks on the table underneath them. “Don’t speak of her like that.”

Beron laughed. It was an awful sound. “Right, my apologies, son. Don’t worry, those mating instincts will go away once you’ve fucked her for a near century.”

Your face turned bright red at the crude words. Eris growled. The sound was so primitive, so animalistic. It sent chills down your spine. Even Beron looked unnerved for a moment.

“You are not winning yourself any favors,” Rhysand purred, smirking at the older male. “Have you any dignity?”

“Have you?” Beron bit back. “You all but spit on the face of the Mother by keeping her away from her mate. This is more of a blessing for you then it is us. A marriage alliance with Autumn, one you do not deserve that we are graciously offering.”

“Let me make myself clear, Beron, since you refuse to listen,” Rhysand snapped. “Our court has no laws that require a female to accept a bond. You would really go to war over something like this? While our courts are still recovering from the last one?”

Rhys and Feyre had theorized that Beron was so adamant about forcing you into the bond not because he cared for his son, but for two other reasons. One, you were Made. They had all seen how powerful Nesta was because of it and Beron craved power above all else.

Two, it was another way to keep Eris in check. To dangle you over his head as a threat.

“Perhaps we should ask what she wants,” Mor interjected.

“What she wants does not matter,” Beron snarled. “She is mated to an Autumn male, by our laws she must accept.”

“She is a resident of our court,” Feyre argued back. “She does not have to accept it.”

“Then you leave us no choice,” Beron said, rising from his seat. He planted his palms on the table, staring at you all of a sudden. You crumbled into yourself. “Is that what you want, girl? You want us to declare a blood duel against your family?”

You shook your head as Rhysand stood, slamming his own hands on the table. “You would have your son fight in a blood duel against me, a High Lord?”

“Oh, it wouldn’t be against you,” Beron laughed, cruelly. His eyes fell on Feyre. “And it wouldn’t be my son. I will demand a blood duel against your mate. A mate for a mate. Very fitting, don’t you agree?”

Feyre versus Beron…. That bastard had planned this. You’d all been so concerned with Eris declaring a blood duel you didn’t even realize this would be a way Beron could kill Feyre as he wished in a legal way—as barbaric as it was.

And most of the other courts held the mating bond in such regard, you wondered if you’d find any allies against him for doing this beside Helion.

Rhysand growled, darkness leaking off of him,

“And I will just fight you in her place.”

Beron smiled. “Oh, but you see, you can’t. Once a blood duel has been declared you either surrender to the terms or fight. I don’t know where you got your information from but there are no place holders allowed.”

Your heart was racing in your chest.

Silence fell so heavy in the room your ears were ringing. All of this was all your fault. You felt tears line your eyes. You couldn’t let Feyre fight for you. You wouldn’t. Even though she could probably hold her own against him, he was ages older than her—more battle worn. She’d be at a huge disadvantage.

And Eris couldn’t do anything about this, not if it was his father who wished to fight a blood duel. He couldn’t order his father not to.

You couldn’t let her do this. You owed your life to her, you owed everything to her. It was time to start fighting your own battles.

“I’ll go,” you whispered, so quietly you wondered if you had even said the words out loud. “I’ll go.”

Feyre’s head whipped to you. “No, absolutely not.”

But you shook your head. “I do not want anyone fighting on my behalf. I will go with them.”

Beron’s grin grew into one that could rival the devil himself.

· · ─────── ·♡· ─────── · ·

“We will find a way out of this,” Feyre whispered into your ear as she hugged you. “I promise. Just hold out for us, okay? We’ll get you out of there.”

You nodded, pulling away to brush the tears off her cheek. You weren’t even going to be able to say goodbye to Elain and Nesta. Beron was demanding that you leave right away.

“I’ll be okay, Fey,” you murmured to her.

“Enough of the dramatics,” Beron called out. “We’re leaving. Now.”

Eris didn’t look at you as he held out a hand. You swallowed audibly and walked to his side, grasping it softly. You spared one last glance at your sister before you were winnowed out of Hewn City and into the den of foxes.

“Come here, girl,” Beron barked, now standing before his throne. “Let me get a look at you.”

You glanced at Eris but he just stood there, stoically, not meeting your gaze. You walked towards Beron, trying not to shake in fear.

The older male grasped your chin in his hand, turning your face from side to side as he examined you. Eris’s other brothers stood at the bottom of the dais, their wolfish grins doing little to make you less nervous. The Lady of Autumn was seated in a small chair to the side of the throne, her eyes not lifting from the floor.

“You look just like my other son’s mate,” he remarked. “Smaller, though. The runt of the family, I’m assuming. Pity. Were you not fed properly as a child?”

You weren’t even sure how to reply to that. You decided not to respond and Beron’s eyes narrowed.

“Hmm,” he mused, finally letting go of you. “Have you sullied yourself with those beasts?”

“Father,” Eris growled, stepping up next to you. “That is enough.”

Beron chuckled, mirthlessly, waving a dismissive hand. “Fine, take her away and get her out of those whorish clothes.”

Eris grabbed you by your upper arm and dragged you out of the throne room. You had to walk quickly, trying to keep up with his long legs as he led you down corridor after corridor. The Forest House was magnificent, beautiful. It was a shame that someone like Beron ran this court, you thought, as you studied the place.

Eris finally stopped in front of a room, yanking the door open and pushing you inside. You glared at him as he slammed the door shut behind him, crossing your arms. You were inside of a huge suite, it seemed. A lavish sitting room, with two doors on either side, likely leading to a bedroom and bathing chamber.

“These are my quarters,” Eris explained as he shrugged off his cape coat and tossed it on the red, velvet couch. He began to unbutton his vest as he faced you. “You are to stay here. Do not leave without an escort. Tomorrow, I will assign you two handmaidens to help you.”

Your eyes widened. “I’m…I’m meant to stay here…in your room?”

Eris let out a long sigh. “It is the safest place for you and I do not want to risk rumors.”

“B-but surely this is improper,” you stuttered. “We are not properly mated.”

Eris let out a cruel laugh. “We wouldn’t be in this situation if you hadn’t made such a spectacle at the High Lords’ meeting so don’t start complaining to me.”

You felt a flare of anger.

“You knew,” you grumbled. “You knew about the mating bond between us and you didn’t tell me! Perhaps if you had told me, I wouldn’t have even been in that room! I would’ve stayed home.”

“Unlikely,” Eris sneered, pouring himself a glass of whiskey from a decanter on a bar cart behind the couch. He chugged the drink down, loosening his collar with his other hand. “You don’t seem to have a lot going on in that pretty little head of yours, bunny. Did you ever stop to think about why I might be hiding it?”

“You are such a prick,” you snapped. “I am not one of your little pawns. I am not a part of your stupid games! You should have told me!”

You went to whirl around but Eris grabbed your wrist, dragging you closer to him. You glared up at him, ignoring the way his heat enveloped you in its embrace.

“This is not a game to me,” Eris growled. “Have you any idea what you’ve cost me? Have you any idea what he will do to you if I so much as take a single step out of line now?”

You yanked your wrist out of his grip. “Have you any idea what this has cost me? I’m the one who's been forced out of my home—forced to come here!”

“And who’s fault is that?”

Eris slammed the empty glass down on the cart.

“Gods, sorry I couldn’t read your oh-so-clever mind! Sorry I couldn’t act like an emotionless shell of a person like you!”

“Watch how you speak to me,” Eris snarled. “I can make your life here a living hell, bunny.”

“I’m not scared of you, Eris,” you snapped. “You don’t fool me. I see the real you under that mask and you know what I think—I think it is you who is scared.”

Eris ran a hand through his hair, frustrated. “You know nothing. Do you understand? Nothing.”

“Then tell me! Tell me so I can help you! I know you do not wish to see your father in power much longer. Let me help!”

Eris grabbed your chin in his hand, forcing you to look up at him. You hated how cold his amber eyes looked.

“No. Absolutely not. I will not involve you in the slightest,” he snarled before his eyes softened and his hand slipped to cup your cheek instead. “I cannot…I cannot bear to see this place make you cruel. Stay here, where you’ll be safe, bunny. Leave everything else to me. You were not made for this place. But me…You have no idea what kind of monster I can be.”

Eris’s hand dropped back to his side and he stepped away from you, heading towards the door. You were breathing so heavily, your lungs constricting your ribs against the dress you wore.

“Can we talk about this? Please!”

He said nothing, reaching for the handle of the door.

“Eris, please!”

His hand fell against the doorframe, flame licking at the wood—scorching it again. A growl rumbled through his chest and his head hung between his shoulders but he didn’t turn around, didn’t look at you.

“Do not,” he groaned. “Do not say my name like that.”

And then he was gone, leaving you completely alone.

· · ─────── ·♡· ─────── · ·

When you woke up later that night, you found yourself in an unfamiliar room. You sat up, realizing you were laying in a bed. You were certain you had fallen asleep on the couch, not wanting to even go into Eris’s bedroom.

The silk, dark orange sheets next to you were undisturbed. You rubbed at your eyes, getting up from under the covers. You were still in the dress you had fallen asleep in.

You padded over to the door, opening it slowly. You took two steps into the sitting room before you froze in your spot.

There, on the couch, was Eris. The fireplace was roaring in front of him as he slept, a lump on the floor by his feet. You blinked away the blurriness in your eyes to see what it was.

Ashera was curled up there, the dog you had met that day you had accidentally winnowed into the forest here. She slept soundly on the floor next to him.

You stepped back into the bedroom and closed the door behind you, quietly, not wanting to disturb them.

· · ─────── ·♡· ─────── · ·

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normspellsman · 1 year

Text

She Is Mine

part one | part two

pairing: neteyam x fem!omatikaya!reader

genre: violence, bit of angst + fluff, & comfort

word count: 2.7k+

warning(s): death threats, mentions of death + injuries + blood, reader thinking she’s going to die + accepts it, neteyam going apeshit on an avatar soldier, reader being stabbed, mentions of brutal killings / violence, reader crying, & a bit of dark!neteyam

taglist: @aonungsmate @dearstell @optimisticblazetrash @thatonegirlwiththebeanie367 @liyahsocorro @amortencjja @universal-s1ut @goodiesinthecloset21 @chshshhshshshshshshshs @minkyungseokie

word bank: mawey — calm; calm down, eywa / the great mother — goddess deity that the na’vi believe in, ikran — winged creature used for flying + hunting, yawne — beloved, & yawntutsyip — darling; little darling

note: literally wrote this within two to three hours so it might not be that great, so bare with me. hope you guys liked it & let me know if i should do something similar to this with lo’ak <3

It was stupid really.

When you think back on it, it was definitely stupid to agree to tag along with Lo’ak and the rest to wherever the hell they were planning on going. But you could not say no to Tuk when she asked you to come with them. She was your weakness and used it to her advantage.

You’d been silently weaving a new armband for your boyfriend, Neteyam, when his youngest sister had approached you, hands interlocked behind her back and the all too familiar ‘innocent’ look plastered on her face. You knew that whatever she was thinking of saying or asking you would end up in you ultimately agreeing to it, most likely getting you in trouble with your lover.

“Join me and Kiri to the mountains with Lo’ak. Pretty please?” She had asked, pouting and widening her amber eyes up at you as she gently swayed from side to side.

You gave in immediately.

It was sad how fast the youngest Sully got you to cave in so quickly. You had restraint with the others, even Neteyam, but had none whatsoever when it came to Tuktirey. You had such a soft spot for her and Tuk took advantage of it every time.

Should’ve never said yes, you grumble to yourself inside your head, head shaking to yourself as you struggled against the restraints the RDA soldiers had put you in upon catching you all when you attempted to leave the scene you weren’t supposed to be at.

Jake instilled it into you guys so many times to never get close to the abandoned shack. You needed asked why. It was something that Jake wasn’t going to argue about and made it very clear after his youngest son tried to pry the answer out of him the first time he mentioned it. Should’ve listened to Jake.

Everything went by so fast, you had barely had time to process what was going on before you were shackled in handcuffs and essentially held prisoner by RDA Avatars.

“Who is she?” A deep voice asked, pulling you out of your seething thoughts.

Quaritch had a good estimate on who was who in the little rag tag group he caught. The five fingered teens one-hundred-percent belonged to Jake Sully while the human boy was a result of the Corporals past. So, that left you and Tuk. He would give it a fifty-fifty chance that the both of you were also Jake’s kids. Man, he and the Missus sure was busy, he thinks to himself, smirking at the thought.

By the only Na’vi boys reaction, Quaritch could tell that you were something else to the kid. A girlfriend perhaps?, he thinks, best friend?.

Lo’ak knew he was fucked the minute Tuk managed to convince you to join in on their little ‘adventure’. Neteyam continuously told him to look out for you whenever he left to go hunt or do whatever their parents told him to do, threatening bodily harm and death if he didn’t obey. He had a bad feeling about the whole thing but regardless of it, still continued on with his plan. Neteyam was so going to kill him.

“Our sister,” Lo’ak muttered, the soldier behind him still had a tight grip on his queue, tightening it before he answered.

Everyone on the scene could tell that Lo’ak was lying. It was evident. The boy's ears were pinned back, mostly in pain, and his tail fell limp beside him as it gently curled in on itself.

Bingo, Quaritch thought to himself, more leverage.

“Hmm, I think you’re lying, boy,” the Corporal starts, inching closer to Lo’ak, “And do you know what I do to liars?” he asked.

You gulped at the man’s words. You could only assume his following answer would entail torture or death. You all were totally fucked either way.

Lo’ak refused to answer the man’s question, making Quaritch smirk even more.

“I punish them,” he answered, a sick and disturbing glint in his eyes as he stared down Jake Sully’s second son.

Anxiety spiked in all of our systems, making you struggle further in the soldier's grasp.

“Don’t hurt him,” you and Kiri pleaded, the soldiers behind you yanking back on your braided queue, making you cry out in pain.

Quaritch tsked at your response, turning towards you as he stalked towards your figure. “I’m not going to hurt him, sweetheart. Just you,” he finalized, pulling out a knife that was sheathed in its carrier on his hip.

You and everyone else began to protest at his words.

“(Y/N)! No!” Lo’ak cried out, trying to inch closer towards you to protect you but was pulled back by a soldier, hissing out in pain and frustration.

Tuk began to cry as she saw the knife inch towards your face before it dipped down to your neck.

“You fucking asshole!” Spider yelled out, struggling in the grips of the two Avatar soldiers holding him, surprisingly making them struggle to keep him in their grasps in return.

Kiri could only close her eyes in response, not wanting to see you get hurt in front of her.

You stopped at the contact the cold knife made with your warm skin, the temperature of it making you lightly flinch back at it. Your heartbeat rose increasingly within the confines of your chest, hammering against the bone. Holy shit, you thought, this is how I’m going to die.

As you looked around and saw your friends' reactions, you accepted your fate. You accepted that you were going to be murdered in front of them. You could only hope that your death would help the Sullys and Spider escape from the soldiers and Quaritch safely and unharmed. You also hoped that it was going to be a quick death. You didn’t want them to see you suffer.

It’s okay, be calm. Don’t fight back, it’ll only make it worse. Mawey. Eywa, please ensure the safe return of the Sully’s and Spider. And make sure that Neteyam finds only happiness after this, you prayed.

Quaritch had taken your queue from the soldiers grasp behind you, granting you momentary relief from the tight hold only to be replaced with an even harsher grip. You hissed out at the returning pain.

“Now, listen here boy,” he starts, pointing the clean knife at Lo’ak, making him look at him, “I want ‘ya to contact your Father and tell him that if he isn’t here after the sun sets, girly over here,” he gestures to you with the knife in hand, “Is going to be gutted and strung up on the tree line as a little surprise for your Daddy. Am I clear?”.

His words makes Tuk cry even harder, making the soldier behind her give up on her hold on the girls queue and instead hold her up by her arms.

Lo’ak reluctantly nodded at his words, swallowing down the gathering spit in his mouth. His eyes jumped from Spider to Quaritch to you, then to Kiri and Tuk. He was dreading the moment his parents and Neteyam arrived, knowing that regardless of how much they cooperate, Quaritch is going to do whatever he wants to even if that includes staying true to his words of harming you.

———

The three were close to nearing the old abandoned shack when Lo’ak called in again, the line going static for a second before he spoke up.

“Quaritch is giving you until after sunset to arrive,” he shakingly starts, anxiety clearly evident in his tone as he speaks, “Or…or he’ll gut (Y/N) and string her up as a welcome gift for you.”.

Neteyam nearly crashes into a tree when he hears his brother's words.

Quaritch was threatening the life of you, his mate, in hopes of riling up Jake. Well, it was working, except it was Neteyam who was riled up and not his Father.

All the boy could see was red as the three of them silently continued their flight towards your destination after Jake told Lo’ak that they were on their way and that the message was clearly received.

Rage boiled up inside of Neteyam’s body, causing him to slightly shake from the emotion atop his ikran. He was going to kill every single one of the soldiers there once he arrived. He’d do anything to get you back. Anything.

———

Everything ached.

From your queue, to your scalp, to your neck, and to the fresh new wound Quaritch left after he decided Lo’ak was taking too long to relay his message to his Father. He had sliced your thigh and stabbed the wound in response, jamming it into the flesh/plush of your thigh. You cried out to the brutal attack, growling out in pain as a handful of tears fell down your cheeks. Quaritch only smirked at your reaction, throwing you down onto the ground as the rest of the soldiers followed suit in discarding their prisoners, herding them into a circle.

Kiri helped you up, allowing you to lean into her. She quickly assessed your wound and deemed that you were going to be fine, as long as no one pulled the knife out from your leg.

Lo’ak held your head in the palms of his hands as he looked for any other slices Quaritch managed to make before stabbing you. He didn’t find any and sighed out in relief from that.

Spider had gathered Tuk in his arms and tried to silence her crying before any of the soldiers got inspiration from Quaritch and decided to punish the child for crying.

“Fucking son of a bitch,” you whispered between grinded teeth after the attack, trying your best to not yank out the foreign object in your thigh. You began to think that maybe you will end up dying out here after all, amongst the beautiful greenery of Pandora. Albeit it not being the way you wanted to go out, it still wouldn’t be the most gruesomest death you imagined happening. You just wished that you were able to kiss Neteyam goodbye one last time.

———

Furious wouldn’t even begin to describe the type of emotion he was feeling at the moment. There probably was no word equivalent to the emotion he currently felt.

Neteyam had ended up disobeying his Fathers orders of him staying with the ikrans, saying that he was ‘too emotionally invested’ and that his anger was too risky for what he was about to face. He thought it was utter bullshit that he wasn’t allowed to aid his parents in rescuing his siblings and his lover from Quaritch. If anything, it gave him more of a reason to focus and get everyone out of there safely.

He had managed to take down two Avatar soldiers in his search for you. He decided that they weren’t worthy of wasting his arrows on, slicing and stabbing them until their throats were practically open wide in exposure or had any time to process the pain. He’d been quick and brutal in his attacks. The more bodies he left behind, the more closer he was to having you in his arms.

His Mother had already released her arrow by the time he arrived on the scene, causing the other soldiers to shoot out into the trees and pull you all up in response. He was forced to hid behind a tree, eyes desperately searching for your familiar figure amongst the Avatar bodies and his siblings.

Neteyam’s eyes finally found your body, still in a soldiers grasp as they tried to pull you away towards where the others were gathering.

His gaze narrowed at the soldiers tight grip on you, robotically notching an arrow and drawing his bowstring back, almost immediately letting it go just as quick as his initial drawing of the arrow.

The arrow lodged itself in between the eyes of the soldier, it’s body slumping backwards as it’s grip loosened on your body, allowing you to follow its descent to the ground.

You groaned out in pain when your body made contact with the forest floor. You were too tired to move out of the way once you realized the soldier that had you in its arms had died, accepting your fall to the floor as gracefully as you could. The knife was still in your thigh, shooting electric hot pain up your leg upon being disturbed from the short fall.

You felt another pair of hands grab you and roughly pull you upwards, you screaming and kicking in retaliation. But just as quickly as their arms grabbed you, they let you go, a loud grunt and hiss following as their body was thrown to the side.

Neteyam had quickly made his way to you once he spotted another Avatar pull you up. He had unsheathed his knife and jumped on the soldier, causing the two of them to roll around on the floor before Neteyam brutally and repeatedly drove his weapon into the Avatar’s body, not stopping until he was certain that he caused enough damage to the fake Na’vi.

Stay away from her, he thought after every stab he inflicted, it’s not her time.

You had looked up when Neteyam delivered the final blow, slitting the insignificant soldier's throat.

You had never seen your mate this angry. Sure there were times where he lashed out at you after an argument or got so angry he hissed and growled at his brother for his ridiculous antics. But never, never have you ever seen him so vengeful. You didn’t even know if vengeful was the right word to describe how Neteyam looked like at the moment. But nothing else came to mind.

“Yawne,” you whispered out, desperate to catch your boyfriend's attention, wanting to get out of the line of fire as quickly as possible.

The teen whipped his head towards you, eyes dilated to the point where they looked like slits in his pupils. His chest was heaving up and down heavily, lungs taking big gulps of air as he did so. A few braids fell in front of his face, masking some of it as he looked at you.

His whole expression softened once he laid eyes on you. He could tell that you wanted to get as far away from the scene as you quickly could, that sad and traumatic look in your eyes at you pleaded with him.

Neteyam quickly shook out of his stupor and gathered you in his arms, being weary of the knife in your leg that he just noticed. Another thing that made him want to kill Quaritch himself.

“It’s okay, I got you yawntutsyip,” he whispered back, dodging all of the flying bullets and arrows he could as he weaved into the heavy forest foliage. His grip on you never faltered as he jumped over logs and ducked under stray branches to get you to safety. His whole body was on autopilot as he ran around, solely focused on getting you out of there alive.

Once Neteyam had decided he was far out enough to not be chased or caught by any more Avatar soldiers, he gently laid you down onto the soft grass, eyes quickly assessing your figure for any other injuries he should be aware about. He let out a sigh of relief when he came to the conclusion that you had no other wounds that needed tending to, softly bringing you into his arms for a warm embrace.

You immediately broke down into the hug, burrowing your face into the crook of Neteyam’s neck and wrapping your arms around his back to bring him in closer. Your sobs were a telltale sign of how distraught you were from the events that just occurred, brain still racing to process it all.

Neteyam softly shushed you as he put one hand on the back of your head and the other on the lower portion of your back, softly rubbing the skin in attempts to comfort you.

“You’re safe now, my love,” he whispered, kissing your hair, “I got you. You’re safe.”.

You relaxed into your lovers arms as he comforted you, feeling safe in his hold.

Neteyam had never gotten that blood thirsty before and that frightened him a little. If he acted like this when you were in trouble, can you imagine how’d he act if you actually died as a result of tonight’s events? He didn’t know the answer to that. All he knew was that you’re his and he’d do anything to ensure that it is not your time yet.

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sapphiremusings · 16 days

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when i’m down on my knees, {aemond targaryen}

summary: with their wedding only a few days away, aemond eases his betrotheds fear of him.

WARNINGS: explicit smut, oral sex (f receiving), teasing, baratheon!reader, no use of y/n

this is the first in a 2 part series! let me know if you want to be tagged in the next part :)

The rumors concerning Lady Baratheon’s betrothed are not lost on her. No, she is well educated on Prince Aemond ‘One-Eye’ Targaryen’s unsavory reputation, just as much as every other lord and lady in Westeros.

Before she was shipped off to King’s Landing in preparation for her royal wedding, her sisters had made it their duty to tease her. They made sure that she was well aware of her prince’s cruel attitude, and the monstrous look of him, with a sharp scar down the left side of his face. By the time she had arrived to the Red Keep, she was teeming with fear as her sisters’ words echoed through her mind.

Prince Aemond is known to be a cruel yet dutiful man. He is said to be a skilled swordsman, besting his mother’s sworn knight, Ser Criston Cole, on many occasions. He rides the largest— and oldest— dragon, the same one that the conquerors sister-wife, Visenya, had rode into battle many times. He had claimed the she-dragon at a young age, losing his eye in the process to his young nephew. His missing left eye is another topic often whispered about in court. Some say that he had cut out another man’s eyeball, and placed it into his empty socket. Others say he has a large jewel in its place, something so peculiar and off-putting that he is forced to cover it up with a leather eyepatch.

All of this is to say that any sane lady would be terrified of their betrothal to Aemond Targaryen. Of course, Lady Baratheon is well aware that most Westerosi marriages are born out of duty, not love. If anything, she should feel blessed by the gods that she is betrothed to a young prince, and not some measly lord old enough to be her grandsire. Yet, she cannot help her feelings of terror at the thought of her upcoming wedding, and even more so, her soon-to-be husband.

From a young age, her septa had installed in her what was to be expected of her when she became of age. Being a dutiful wife was the only thing she was to worry about, and then being a dutiful mother to her husband’s heirs. She would often have nightmares about an old lord running his eager hands down her gaudy wedding gown, pushing her onto the marital bed where she would be forced to lay under his big gut as he ruts into her, witnesses to the dreaded bedding ceremony snickering behind the sheer curtains. Her ladies-in-waiting would comfort her after these night terrors, smoothing down her hair and promising that no harm would come to her. Even with their sweet words, she knew the truth; she would be forced to marry a stranger, and endure all the hardships that came with having no freedom of her own.

Now, with her wedding only a few days away, she can barely sit still. Her mind incessantly spins around various scenarios that can take place on that special day, and she worries over her impending future. She has taken to walking along the Keep’s gardens, and throughout the various twisting halls; anything to keep her moving. Her father always scolded her for this habit, as to him it was the equivalent of running away from your problems. Still, she can’t help it as the big day draws forward, her anxiety swollen inside her.

It isn’t that she doesn’t want to become a wife. It is merely her irrational fear of her husband-to-be. Even now, as he walks behind her, quiet in his sure steps, his gaze burns through all her layers, settling deep within her core. She feels as if she is on fire, and the longer he stares, calculating and as if she is a foreign creature, the more this inferno swells. Every move she makes is with caution, in fear that he will strike her down and show off that unforgiving nature that he is known for. So far, he hasn’t, but she believes this is merely a false front. Surely, he is waiting for when they are finally married to show his true colors, knowing that she will be his and unable to do anything about it.

She begs to the Seven to release her from this torment, her spine rigid as they continue their walk through the Keep’s halls. She had wanted to be alone, as she often has been since arriving in Kings Landing, artfully dodging any attempt at courting that Prince Aemond tried to enact. Truthfully, it has been his queen-mother, Alicent, who has pushed her son towards his betrothed, and to Lady Baratheon, he hasn’t seemed that worried over the fact that she has been avoiding him. No, he merely stares, violet eye darting over her face and figure as if she is a puzzle he is trying to solve.

Really, she doesn’t understand why he is still walking behind her, steps steady and calculated. They haven’t spoken a single word to each other since their initial greeting that morning, when he had been waiting outside her chamber doors, ready to escort her on her walk. Even then, it had merely been a “good morn” recited, both tense in their separate ways. Aemond couldn’t look more annoyed even if he tried, seemingly uninterested in anything she could potentially offer him. Not that she was offering anything.

Growing bored of wandering aimlessly around the Keep, Lady Baratheon pauses with a sigh. Tersely, she turns to the side, not daring to look at her betrothed, who has halted behind her. “I’d like to retire to my cha-“

“I want to show you something, my lady.”

Her heart nearly stops beating at his words, sudden and surprising as he takes a step towards her. She wishes to flee, but her feet stay planted on the floor, and she watches from the corner of her eyes as he brings a hand up to grab ahold of her elbow. Though the fabric of her dress sleeves acts as a barrier between flesh, she still feels as if she was scalded. She flinches, almost imperceptibly, but Aemond seems to notice as he lets out a hum.

She knows she mustn’t deny him. No, her septa had taught her well. So, she meekly nods her head, cheeks flushed in apprehension.

They walk back through the halls, towards a place she has never dared to step foot near, a dark alcove lit only by torches and candles. She lets out a gasp at the sight before her; the giant skull of the largest dragon known to Westeros. If she wanted to, she could walk straight into its jaws and past the many rows of sharp teeth. Her breath catches in her throat.

Aemond’s voice comes out in a whisper, right next to her ear. “This is the skull of Aegon the Conqueror’s dragon, the largest who’s ever lived. His name was-“

“Balerion. The Black Dread,” she interrupts him, immediately regretting so afterwards.

Instead of scolding her like she expected him to do, he merely breathes out a small laugh. Still, she feels the need to apologize, even as she stutters over her words.

“I apologize, my prince. At Storm’s End, we had a few tomes about the Conquest, and they interested me greatly.”

He hums. “Do not apologize. I like to know what you are thinking.”

She doesn’t know how to reply to this, heart pounding against her chest as she feels him step closer behind her, pressing into her back. He towers over her frame, hard and lean against her. His head bends, lips coming close to her ear.

“Are you afraid of me, my dear betrothed?”

“N-no,” she stutters out, the lie tasting bitter on her tongue. Her eyes focus on the dragon skull before them, willing her heart to calm down. “No, my prince.”

He seems amused by her answer. “Liar.”

Another gasp escapes her mouth as his lips flutter over the shell of her ear, trailing down to the crook of her neck. He smells of smoke and steel, leather and something else she can’t put her finger on— but it’s intoxicating as it enters her nose, and she feels like nuzzling against him. Her fear won’t let her, nor will it let her move from his grasp, even as she shakes like a leaf under his hands, now resting atop her forearms.

“You avoid me. You can’t even look me in my eye,” he muses, lips still pressed against her skin. “You are shaking… am I so fearsome, Lady Baratheon?”

She whimpers, shaking her head, eyes growing wide as his grip tightens. “I’m sorry…”

His hand suddenly grabs ahold of her jaw, making her flinch, in which he lets out a disappointed tsk. Slowly, he turns her face towards his, fingers gentle against her rosy cheeks. She trembles as she meets his dark gaze, his lilac iris now a small ring, overtaken by his widened pupil. His eyebrows are furrowed, and his stare travels across her face, stopping on her lips.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he whispers, blinking. “No… quite the opposite. Will you let me show you?”

Deep within her stomach, something sharp twists, turning her blood hot as it pools within her veins. She is afraid, but another feeling unknown to her is slowly creeping up her spine, turning her brain into mush as she continues staring up at her betrothed. Her fingers reach up to grasp on his arm that’s wrapped around her, tightening around the leather of his sleeve. His gaze doesn’t move away, nor does he. Instead, he seems to draw closer, pressed against her back as his lips near hers. She can’t help but flutter her eyes closed, and before she can fully think about what she is agreeing to, she dips her chin down into a small nod.

Aemond’s lips immediately find hers, warm and plush, eager in his exploration. She has never been kissed before, and the feeling is foreign, but her pulse begins to thrum within her, and she opens her mouth to take more of it. He seems pleased by her reciprocation, groaning softly as he brushes his tongue against her teeth, his hand that still cups her jaw growing harsher. Their tongues slip against each other, a jolt of lightning hitting her every time they touch, her skin pebbled with goosebumps.

Growing restless, she spins around in his arms, hungry for something she doesn’t yet have a word for. Her arms wrap around his neck, and she has to push herself up onto her toes as she meets his lips once more, a clashing of teeth and spit. Between her legs, it grows hot, pulse thumping at her very core. She wants to climb on top of him and devour him, her fear of her mysterious prince melting away with every flick of his tongue. Is it supposed to feel like this?, she thinks, whimpering as she pulls him down closer by his neck.

When he pulls away, panting, she whines, her own chest heaving as she tries to breathe, but the throbbing between her thighs is so strong, she merely steps into his arms once more. He chuckles at this, looking down at his eager betrothed, flushed and nearly ravaged.

“I haven’t even shown you yet, and you’re already begging for more,” he muses, clicking his tongue mockingly. “What happened to my fearful little betrothed, hm?”

This sobers her up, her already flushed face turning a deeper shade of scarlet, and she staggers back on her feet. Aemond doesn’t let her go far, though, immediately grabbing ahold of her waist and pulling her back in. His hand brushes her hair back from her face, forcing her to look up at him once more, fingers firm in their hold. He smirks at the dazed look in her doe eyes, glassy as his words work through her mind on a loop. Though he should feel bad, he can’t help but relish her embarrassment. Hadn’t she been embarrassing him since her arrival, every time she would dart away from him and cower in fear just from his gaze?

“Please,” she whispers, swallowing a lump within her throat. His eyes seem to sparkle at her pleading.

He softly laughs. “Do you want me to touch you?” When she nods, eyebrows furrowed, “Use your words.”

Shame pools within her chest, squeezing around her heart as she continues to look up at him. Something inside her is begging to be released, pounding against her skull until every bone in her body rattles under its force. She doesn’t know what it is, or how to stop it, but her body draws itself closer to Aemond like he is the cure. Even now, as she gazes at his handsome face, all harsh lines and pouted lips, silver hair long and pulled back behind his head, eye a deep shade of violet, this thing within her only grows stronger in its fight to leave its prison. He is her betrothed, and a Prince of the realm, so who is she to deny him?

“Yes,” the word tastes like the sweetest poison on her tongue, and when he still makes no move to touch her, she continues. “Please, Aemond… touch me.”

She nearly cries when he smiles, leaning down to catch her lips, but her elation plummets when he doesn’t meet her embrace. Instead, his lips attach themselves to her jaw, tender as he licks and nips at the skin, traveling down her neck. Though she wants nothing more than his lips on hers, she still keens at the strange feeling, fingers tangling themselves into his long hair. His hands squeeze her hips, running up and down her sides, brushing against the bottom of her breasts. She arches into his touch, soft pants leaving her lips as he groans against her flesh.

Her feet start to step backwards as he pushes her, until she hits the stone wall behind her. His lips move to her heaving bosom, where the tops of her breasts sit within her dress, while his hand moves under her skirts, trailing along the bare skin of her thighs. They tremble beneath his touch, shutting close and trapping him there. He merely brings his leg between them, prying them back open so his hand can continue its journey to her weeping core. She shakes beneath him, sweat gathering at her brow, eyes pleading.

Aemond shushes her, bringing his lips back to hers, sighing as she pulls him closer and slips her tongue between them. When his hand slips under her undergarments, fingers nestling among her damp curls, she almost sobs, hips bucking up in shock. His other hand grabs onto her waist, stilling her movement as his fingers glide through her wetness, gathering the pool of arousal that sits along her hole. Her chest heaves, head dizzy with the new feeling, and she feels as if a bolt of lightning, white hot and blinding, has struck her. Hands grasp onto his shoulders for purchase, nails digging into the dark leather of his tunic, frantic as she looks for something to steady her racing heart.

“Seven hells, you’re soaked,” he gasps, fingers pressing against the apex of her, rubbing tight circles. “And here I thought you were afraid of me…”

She can barely comprehend his words, feeling as if her head is stuck in a cloud of smoke, heady and all-consuming. Her hands run down his shoulders and arms, now gripping onto his slim waist, pressing his body closer to her. His pale neck hovers over her face, and she can’t help but gravitate towards the unmarred skin, pressing her quivering lips to the base. Her tongue darts out to taste him, whimpering as she tries once more to move her hips. Aemond grunts, moving his fingers down to circle her leaking hole, the tip of his middle finger pressing in slowly.

As he presses the digit fully inside her, she presses her teeth into the nape of his neck, muffling her cry as he finally allows her to move her hips. He moans softly, grunting out her name at the feel of her bite, and she can feel something hard against her lower stomach, burning as it presses itself more to her. Tears spring to the corners of her starry eyes, tongue coming out once more to lick at the stinging bite mark she left, before resting her lips against him, panting. Her hips jolt upwards continuously, his name leaving her mouth like a prayer.

“Will you let me taste you?,” he nearly whines, rough voice cracking. His nose nudges against her temple. “Hm… ivestragī aōha dārilaros sylutegon ao, dōna riña.” (Let your prince taste you, sweet girl).

She gasps out, head nodding, though she’s not sure what she is agreeing to. Even so, she still wretches out, “y-yes.”

Aemond groans once more, pressing his lips to her forehead, before removing his fingers from her core. He’s quick to bend down on his knees, hands lifting up her skirts, dipping his head under the heavy fabric. She furrows her brows in confusion, but her question dies on her tongue as she feels his hot mouth press against her cunt, warm and wet. A strangled moan leaves her, and she throws her head back to stare up at the darkness above, lips parted as she gasps and whines. His tongue feels hot as it slips through her folds and circles her entrance, slurping up her arousal which practically pools out of her.

She can barely comprehend what is happening, her knees wobbly and her brain turned to mush, and all she can remember is his name. It leaves her lips like an incantation, continuously and fervently. Her hands try their best to gather her skirts, lifting them up and away from Aemond’s face, wishing to see him between her thighs. First, she spots a sliver of silver hair, and then, when she pulls the fabric back further, the rest of his head comes into view. His eye is closed, his focus solely on her cunt and how his tongue dips in and out of her. Fingers come up to rub at her once more, a deep grumble leaving him and vibrating through her core.

Something foreign begins to bubble up inside her, burning in its trail and cutting her open like a sharp sword. Her breath catches in her throat, chest heaving and heart stuttering against her ribcage, hips bucking up to chase the rising wave within her. Aemond flattens his tongue against her, another rumble leaving him, making her cry out. He opens his eye, staring up at her disheveled figure, his gaze molten and hungry. This look, and the feeling of him crooking a finger inside her once more, breaks her, and she moans and shudders, vision turning blurry as she’s pulled down under her cascading pleasure.

“Sȳz riña…” he groans, lapping up her essence as it flows out and onto his tongue. “Good fucking girl.”

Once she comes back down, she can barely keep standing, legs weakened and eyes heavy with sleepiness. Aemond stands, a satisfied hum leaving him as he pulls her against him, nose nuzzling in her hair. Instead of fear, she feels comfort as she rests in his arms, head resting on his chest, listening to his racing heartbeat. When he begins to trail kisses down her face, before capturing her lips with his own, she feels like swooning. Is this what she had been missing all along? Her betrothed… not someone to fear, but someone she could grow to love?

Aemond pulls away, fingers coming up to rest against her lips. “Taste yourself, dārilaros.” (Princess).

Timidly, she wraps her lips around his two digits, tongue cautious as it swirls around them. His gaze is dark as he watches her, and when he removes his fingers, he replaces them with his mouth, hot as it claims her own. On her hip, she can still feel that same stiffness against her, but she doesn’t question it as he finally steps away from her, a small smirk on his handsome face.

“In just a few days, we will be wed, my lady. When I take you to my bed, I will spend all night showing you why you shouldn’t fear me.”

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

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norrisleclercf1 · 3 months

Note

Hey, I saw that you were asking for Pierre ideas and I thought how it would be like Pierre dating Esteban sister

A/N: An actual French Civil War would break out in the paddock over this

"I'm sorry? You're dating who?" You cringe hearing the anger grow in your brothers voice, with each passing second. "Pierre, I'm dating Pierre." You whisper. You hang your head, not in shame, never in shame of dating Pierre. But, more so in the fact that Esteban refused to look at you.

"No, no you are not." Esteban growls, and you raise your head facing him. "Estie, I'm only telling you because you're my brother and I love you. He makes me happy," Esteban scuffs, refusing to hear anymore of this. "He's a snake, he'd trying to take my team from me, and now my sister? That fucker has no shame."

"Enough! Do you truly think Pierre would only date me to spite you? In case you forgot we all grew up together Esteban. Me, you, Charles, Pierre, we all grew up together." You didn't want to admit that his words stung, you wouldn't give him the satisfaction.

"Yes, I believe the only reason he's dating you is to fuck with me. And you're so naive and stupid to fall for it." Flinching you shake your head, and swallow hard. "I have to go," Your feets tangle in the chair and you trip rushing out of the room.

You hated how he could be so mean. That wasn't Esteban, he wasn't cruel, but he was hurt and tended to lash out at the cause of it. And right now, you were the cause of the hurt. Without thinking you walk into Pierre's drivers' room, earbuds in he doesn't hear or see you.

The burn of your eyes and throat bubble over as you move and climb into your boyfriend's lap. He tenses and goes to push you off but stops when he notices it's you and relaxes smiling as he pulls you closer. The first sound of your sob is muffled, pulling out his ear bud he notices your soft cries into his neck.

"Baby? What's wrong? Did something happen?" Pierre goes into protective boyfriend mode and pulls you so close you could be fused into one person. "Nothing, just hold me." You whimper, Pierre wants to push more but knows it would do nothing but harm in this moment.

It doesn't take a genius to figure out what could possibly cause this, and maybe a nosy worker heard the argument and texted Pierre what was wrong. But he was going to remain silent on the matter.

He holds you close and rocks back adn forth slightly, that you've cried yourself to sleep in his arms. Moving carefully, he lays you down and coves you up with his jacket, melting when he sees you take a deep breath, nosing it. Pierre ruffles your hair and slides out of the driver's room.

Walking down the hall Pierre sighs and knocks gently on Esteban's door. Esteband yanks it open, his frown turning into a downright scowl. He opens his mouth but Pierre holds his hand up and levels him with a glare that silences him.

"Let me say this, you ever, and I mean ever make her cry over you again, I don't care that you're her brother, I'll beat the fuck out of you. Second, I love her more than anything, and the fact you think I'm such a scumbag I'd only be with her to fuck you over, makes you weak. Keep your fucking mouth shut about us, you'll smile and be polite and apologize to your sister. She's the best thing I've got in my life, and I'd pick her over Formula 1 without a thought. Be a fucking man, swallow that 2 inch pride of yours, and when she's ready, not you, but her, you'll apologize. Have a nice evening." Turning around he walks back down the hall and slides into his drivers room.

"Pear?" Your voice soft has him breathing out in relife and walks over, crouching down to be eye level with you. "I'm here, baby. Go back to sleep." You nod and reach out, grabbing his hand and pulling him in, letting him lie down on top of you, enjoying the pressure of his body. "I love you,"

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messylustt · 1 year

Text

obsessed ( believe me ) — ethan landry + reader ( scream ) : scream after ethan revealed himself as ghostface to you, you try to tell the group, hoping they’ll believe you…but ethan has other plans.

contents : surprisingly nothing sexual. a kiss. this is mainly the repercussions + plot after ethan’s reveal. wc 2.1k.

pt one pt two pt three

you had locked your door tight every night whenever you’d be home. you couldn’t let a ghostface get in, you couldn’t let…ethan get in. god, the concept that he’s a killer now confuses and scares you at the same time. if ethan can kill then christ, everyone should be wary of everyone.

you aggressively mix the cupcake batter. you had grown guilty and…well…confused. you hadn’t told the group. though you haven’t had the time—you haven’t seen them since the party. so, it’s not entirely your fault. you need to tell them. they could die if you don’t.

with a final whisk you begin to pour the batter into the cupcake tins. there’s no harm in giving them something tasty as you drop the charming bomb. You place the tin in the oven, already preheated. clicking the timer you pause. what if they don’t believe you?

the carpenter sisters and martin-meeks twins have known you the same length as they have ethan. shit, you should have gotten proof, something that would show your not just pointing the finger. you rest against the counter, watching as the cupcakes begin to bake.

you can feel your heart pick a pace at the thought of ethans words. he kissed you, he wanted to kiss you. what were you thinking letting him? no, you think to yourself. you didn’t have a choice…but it’s not like you absolutely hated the idea. shit.

what if you saw ethan in class? how the fuck should you act? you run your hands down your face, growing agitated and fidgety.

;;

“y/n!” mindy called from across campus. your carrying a box full of your cupcakes, as you take a heavy breath. it’s okay.

you wander over to her, smiling, only to falter when you see chad and ethan reach her side too.

you catch ethan’s gaze and freeze. ethan tilts his head, acting like an innocent shit. you gulp as you notice a ghost of a smirk on his face.

“mindy, can I talk to you for a moment?” if anyone’s gonna believe you about ethan, it’s mindy. she already thinks ghostface is him.

“uh, sure. is it real private?” she seems confused, since this group barely kept anything from each other. you clutch your cupcake box a little tighter, and that’s when chad notices.

“hey! are those cupcakes?”

you smile, offering them to him. “yo, thanks y/n.” he opens the box as you turn back to mindy.

“it’s girls sorta stuff.”

“oh.” she smiles, grabbing your elbow. “we’ll catch up with you later!” she calls back to ethan and chad, as she brings you farther away.

as you stop by a tree, you can't help but glance back at the two boys. chad is stuffing one of your cupcakes in his mouth. you hate the shiver that racks your spine, as you watch ethan take a bite, keeping his gaze on you. he tilts his head down in thanks, and you can spot the mischievous glint in his eyes. he knew they were bribe cupcakes for your point on him being the killer, to make it sound more appealing. but he only finishes the cupcake with a hum.

you whip your gaze to mindy, your expression desperate. “mindy, you know how you're always saying that ethan is ghostface?”

mindy scowls, glancing at him. “yeah, i swear it's him.” She narrows her eyes, before shifting her gaze back to you. “why—do you think the same?”

“i don't think, i know.” you stare at her earnestly. “i saw him. he attacked at my apartment. there was this other ghostface there, who tried to first, and then…” you weren’t going to mention that Ethan kissed you. it was irrelevant. “then he took off his mask.”

mindy is staring at you as your words spill out in a rush. “wait, you're saying ethan attacked you in your apartment, and then revealed himself?” she hisses.

“well, no, he didn’t attack me. he attacked the other ghostface—”

“wait, what?!”

you shush her, glancing around. ethan and chad weren’t there anymore and you were relieved.

mindy stares at you. “why would he attack the other ghostface?”

“i don’t know!” you exasperate.

mindy spins in surprise. “what the fuck?!”

you grab her arm. “but you believe me, right?”

“i believe ethan could be ghostface, but…attacking his fellow ghostie, and then what— revealing himself to you?” she sighs. “it's a little hard to make that make sense.”

“i know, i know. but i swear. that’s what happened.” you're growing desperate, especially as you see hesitance flash across mindy’s face.

“mindy, i wouldn’t make this up.”

she sighs. “but if ethan—as ghostface—went to your apartment not to hurt you, then why was he there?”

you pause. he couldn’t have just been there to…kiss you, right? that doesn’t make sense. you go to explain more about him attacking the other ghostface when you stay silent. ethan saved you from getting killed. would Mindy interpret that as you being on the same side. no. if you’d tell her that, then she’d know you weren’t one of them.

“y/n?”

you meet mindy’s gaze, as her eyes have grown wary. you shake your head. “i don't know why ethan was at my apartment dressed as ghostface. all I know is that he is one of them.”

“i– look i want to believe you, y/n. i like you! but it's just—” she cuts herself off, breathing. “you could be lying because your…ghostface.”

your shoulders slump. this is what you were scared might happen. “mindy, i swear.” you go to grab her arm, but she steps back.

“ethan is still on the top of my list, but…let me just think.” rhen she leaves.

shit. this was supposed to go so much better.

“you should have given her the cupcakes.”

you jump, and whip around to see ethan standing with an almost smug expression. you gulp, stepping to the side. “get out of my way.”

ethan just chuckles. “didn’t work?”

your silence makes him grin. “she already thinks i’m Ghostface, but like you, has no real evidence.”

“i–” you cut yourself off, because he’s right. you have nothing on him. and it turns out your word isn’t enough. “just leave me alone.”

“so cold.” he comments. “we’re in the same lesson.”

your whole body is tense. “come on.” ethan turns, heading to the large building of blackmore.

you both make it to the hallway, bustling with students heading to their respective classes. you stay a decent way behind ethan. you will not be seen with him. that would only contradict everything you said to mindy.

then just as you're about to squeeze past the students to get inside the lecture hall, a hand tightens around your wrist, yanking you to the right. you gasp as you get dragged into a small broom cupboard.

“ethan, what the fuck?” you spin to face him. he stands his back to the now shut door of the cupboard, trapping you in.

“i was kinda hoping you wouldn’t go and be a tattle tale.” he steps closer and you immediately step back, your hand out in warning. “but your cupcakes were very good, so, i guess that’s a plus.”

“ethan. let me out.” you were growing worried, the hairs on the back of your neck spiked.

“and i know i said i’ll leave you alone and all. but, wouldn’t it seem strange if we ignore each other.”

“if you wanna act normal in front of them—fine.” you were scared, and ethan could tell. “but there's no reason for us to see each other alone.” you gesture around the closet.

“that kinda hurts, y/n.” ethan says. “i mean i’m not too much of a fan of PDA, but if you're into that, I’ll settle.”

“what?”

ethan steps closer, and your grip finds a broom. “i like kissing you. and if you don't want to do it alone, then we can do it in front of our friends.”

you gulp, holding your pathetic excuse of a weapon out in front of you. “i’ll keep your secret, they don’t believe me anyway. so, please. there’s no need to kill me.”

“kill you? gave you listened to a word i've said?” wthan brushes his hand across the brustels of the broom. “i’d rather kiss you then, then kill you.” he steps closer. “and the broom’s cute.” he’s trying not to laugh.

“ethan, seriously.”

“i’m being dead serious, y/n.” he says, tapping down the broom as you shake his fingers off. then he backs away. “i’ll see you in class.” then he’s out of the closet, leaving you standing there, breathing hard and even more confused.

;;

you’re standing, talking to tara, as you wait for the rest of the group to be done with classes. mindy and chad come out first. slowly followed by ethan. you stay close to chad, as he tells you about this dick in his lesson.

ethan notices your “subtle” move to be “safe”. chad couldn’t protect you. and not from getting hurt, ethan’s already been clear that that's the last thing he wants to happen. just from him in general. he likes you. he thought it was obvious, but he guesses you're still reeling from him being ghostface.

you all talk and walk, until you’ve reached the carpenter sister’s apartment. ethan then digs in his pocket to retrieve a ring he stole from you in the closet. tara, Sam, and quinn are heading to their apartment.

“uh, y/n?” ethan calls to you, making you glance behind your shoulder. “i have something of yours.” he holds up the ring, as you hesitantly step closer, your hand out. you think you must have dropped it on your walk.

but ethan strides over, passing your hand and grabbing your chin. before you can say a word ethan is pressing his lips to yours, you stumble slightly back, along the gravel. chad is watching, mouth hanging open. “holy shit,” you catch tara say, as ethan pulls back, with a grin.

you're staring at him agape, as you hear a few hollers from chad. if only he knew. ethan then whispers in your ear. “i’ll call you.”

;;

you're staring at your phone in your apartment, scared for it to ring. and when it does, you hesitate grabbing it.

when you do, you take a reassessing breath. you had to end whatever this was. “hello, y/n.”

ethan’s using the ghostface modulator. prick. “ethan, you don’t have to use that. i know it's you.”

“and where’s the fun in that?” the deep voice breathes a chuckle.

“stop playing games, ethan. stop all of this. i’m not interested.”

“in me?” he inquired.

you hate the fact that you falter. you shouldn’t be fucking faltering! “yes.”

“you're a very unconvincing liar.” ghostface speaks mockingly.

“and you can’t take a hint.”

“tell me y/n,” ghostface speaks, as you pace your living room. “what's your favourite scary movie?” he jokes.

you scoff. “i said no more games ethan.”

“just one.” ghostface half begs. “i promise.”

“you gonna make me another deal?”

“i can.” ghostface shuffles on the other end. “if you play this game with me and win…i’ll reveal myself to our friends.”

you pause your pacing. “what?”

“doesn’t that sound fair?” ghostface probes.

you gulp. would he really? you wouldn’t look like a fool to mindy, and worse a betraying ghostface. you lick your lips. “what’s the game?”

“that’s my girl.” ghostface praises breathlessly. you stand a little straighter, ignoring the butterflies swarming your stomach.

“we’re going to play a simple simon says.” ghostface breathes through the phone.

“simon says?” you repeat.

“mhm.” ghostface hums.

you run your hand through your hair, gathering your thoughts, and a seeable decision. fuck it. all you had to win was simon says. easy. “deal.”

you can almost hear the grin forming on ghostface—ethan’s—face. “let’s get started, then.”

#. ( psychos )#the ethan effect #ethan landry x reader #ethan x reader #ethan landry smut #ethan landry x y/n #ethan landry x you #ethan landry oneshot #jack champion #jack champion x reader #scream 6 #scream smut #scream #jack champion x y/n

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flamingpudding · 7 months

Text

That's my baby brother you attacked

Jazz stood in her Fenton Ghost Peeler Suit and crossed arms before a group of Gothams vigilantes. Her little brother was hugging her around the shoulder, in his Phantom form and floating. His face pressed into her shoulder and letting out quite ghostly whines couple with her name in ghost speech. He was clearly distressed.

With crossed arms, she glared at Gotham's vigilantes. They stood before her as a group. But the front took... Nightwing? She believed that was the name he used to introduce himself, who had the current Robin clinging to his arm. The kid looked as distressed as her brother, and normally, she would care to help, but right now, she was in protective sister mode. HER brother came first.

"We really mean no harm. It's just Robin and the others mistook him for a clone, and we would like to-"

"No." She cut the guy off. She glanced at HER baby brother, still refusing to look up and face the situation as he made another ghostly whine, before looking back at the group of vigilantes.

"I can see how they could be related." She raised an eyebrow below the visor at how hopeful the groups stance became. They don't know Danny's human form, but that's the excuse they use for attack her brother? They assumed he was a clone just because he looked like the inverted image of one of them? Fat chance that she would let them anywhere near him now. "But, you attacked MY baby brother-"

"And we are very sorry about that!" Nightwing cut in but Jazz ignored it.

"The point is you attacked him. I don't care if they are related. This is MY baby brother and if that is their reaction on seeing him and handling his own ghost rogues. I will NOT allow them to be part of his life unless Phantom wants it himself."

Turning around, she pat her baby brothers head and whispered to him in ghost speech. "Common Danny, let's go. Let's visit that planetarium you wanted to see later. After that we never have to come to Gotham again, I can go to another university somewhere far away from here."

They didn't know Phantom was Danny Nightingale, neither did they know that she was Jasmine Nightingale. This would be a one-time meeting and stay that way. Her baby brother did not need people like that in his life after the falling out with their parents they had.

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utterlyotterlyx · 1 month

Text

The Fox and The Fawn

High Lord Eris x Rhys!Sister!Reader x Azriel

Part Five

Summary - After an intense meeting at the boarder, Eris and Lucien return home tight lipped and unwilling to ruin the night, and you discover something you thought was impossible.

Warnings - angst, fluff, Rhys being a grade A prick, our favourite found family back at it again, drinking, mentions of sex, some Eris background, Lucien being a meddler, a little trip down memory lane

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four

HAPPY 600! 🥳

Be careful.

Eris would ensure he was. For you, he would contain his fiery rage, he would conform himself to the mask he had to wear around those from the Night Court. He would do anything to make sure he returned home to you.

Part of him was glad that Lucien had coaxed him away the moment he had secured you inside Fir Manor in the arms of Nesta and Elain, if he saw those rounded eyes of worry, he was sure that he may not have been able to walk away from you.

Sweat coated his brow as his weight crunched at the leaves and fallen branches beneath his feet. Of course Rhys had chosen to meet where Autumn met Winter, Kallias cared little when the High Lord of the Night Court would prowl onto his lands, and Rhys wouldn't dare to stand in Summer or Spring after what he and his Inner Circle had done to both of those courts.

The air had turned cold and the ground frozen a few miles back, the cold shrill of Winter swarmed around Eris and Lucien, and they were glad that they had made the smart decision to shroud themselves in their fur lined coats for what was sure to be a frosty meeting indeed. Though, Eris was glad that he had chosen the Winter boarder to say his piece, it meant that he was as far as possible away from you.

They had winnowed most of the way, hounds in tow bar Willow who had refused him to stay with you, coiling up on the porch and watching her master disappear into the forest. Lucien had groaned when they had landed at the foot of a rather large hill lined with an array of snow-kissed trees, Eris had smirked at the sound but willed his brother onward.

"Promise me that you won't let him get under your skin." There was still an ocean full of unspoken words between the two brothers, ones that voiced Eris’ regret and longing, that voiced all of guilt and desire to make things right.

In a way, it was easier for him to convince Lucien of his true nature now that they had something in common bar their looks, it was the shared need to protect you, to let you grow into your own person and watch on as you drove down your own path.

Eris frowned softly, he couldn't exactly blame Lucien for thinking that such a thing was possible, he hadn't exactly played the role of a loving brother or male in general. "I won't, Lucien. There is nothing he could say or offer to make me even consider it." That being handing you back over to the Night Court.

It wasn't something that he needed to say, neither of them wanted to even think about it as they continued upward.

"I know that you have no reason to trust anything I say after everything I've done to you," Lucien fell to Eris' side and glanced sidelong at him, not knowing what was coming next, "But I hope you can believe me when I say that I won't let any harm come to her. I have abided by every decision she has made, all I wish for is her happiness. I want her to grow and build her own life. All I can do is gently nudge her in the direction she is hesitant to follow, but I would never make her do anything she didn't wish to."

There was a pause, a comfortable silence as Lucien came to a certain realisation and grinned, "You feel something for her, don't you?" Eris felt the heat rise to his cheeks, the cold of the air making the redness more prominent on them, Lucien laughed, "I knew it from the moment you fought me to sit next to her at that dinner," his smile faltered and he stopped walking, he examined his brother, the one whose entire façade faltered the moment he noticed that you were around, "After everything that's happened, y/n deserves a chance to find her own passions away from the influence of anyone."

"I know that-"

"I wasn't finished," Lucien rolled his eyes and continued the ascent, passing Eris who trailed him by a step, "Despite everything, I do believe that she's better off here, with you. It's like you see her like how Nesta, Elain and I do but in a slightly different way, you see her in the way she deserves to be seen, in the most candid and gentle way possible," Lucien looked to Eris with understanding, "She deserves that, to be seen and understood and listened to, to be involved in every conversation, to be able to show everyone who she really is.”

The conversation died at the exact moment when the Vanserra brothers reached the apex of the mound, spotting the three Illyrians through the break in the trees that coiled around their figures, as if in warning to stay far far away.

The mask.

Right.

Rolling his shoulders, Eris was ashamed to drown his soul in the brutal essence which he often forced himself into, and he never wanted you to see just how bad it could be. Whisps of his breath floated from his lips, curling upward and freezing in the air.

"Thank you for waiting. Lucien couldn't keep up," the namesake scoffed in response as the pair approached the boarder, thanking the Mother of that intact shimmer which told them that the wards very much still up, and very strong. Eris folded his arms over his chest, finding the nearest tree and leaning on its rough bark before drawling, "You got me here, Rhys. Better start talking."

It was clear that Rhys was on the brink of losing his sanity, his eyes were cold and distant, more onyx than their usual violet hue, his wings were furled around his sides, and Lucien nor Eris could tell if he meant them to be intimidating. He appeared to them dishevelled, messy black hair, a certain paleness to his skin, an unhinged glare in his eye.

"I appreciate you taking the time to meet with us," he motioned to Azriel and Cassian, the latter of which looked more broken than Lucien had ever seen him, no doubt reeling in the loss of his mate, "I hope we don't keep you for long."

"Tell me what you want, Rhys. I don't have time for pleasantries," Eris plucked an invisible thread from the stitching of his coat and looked toward the High Lord.

The fake politeness was doing little to convince Eris of anything other than that Rhys surely was the most manipulative male he had ever come across, he stole that crown right from Beron's decaying corpse.

Resisting a snarl, Rhys exhaled deeply, unclenching his fists as he began a perfectly practiced speech, "My sister is not quite herself at the moment, I fear that she has made the wrong decision in residing in your court, her mental state has always been rather brittle," he took a step toward the boarder, his toes kissing the edge of that shimmering glare, "Give her back to us so that I can ensure that she receives the proper care."

"If y/n desires to return to the Night Court then she can, I'm not stopping her from doing whatever she wishes," Eris replied flatly, completely unphased to the words that were making his blood boil in his veins, did Rhys really have the gall to suggest that you were insane?

Azriel spoke then, realising that there was no realm of possibility where Eris would willingly give you back, "You stole her from the Day Court. Some would call it war-inducing."

There it was, the threat, Eris smiled, "Is that what you want? Another war?"

"I will do whatever is necessary to ensure her safe return to her home court."

Lucien moved to Eris' side, his muscles contracting with anger, "The Night Court is no longer her home," his voice was stoic and unnerving, his gaze daggered between the three Illyrians, "Eris did not steal her, she decided with her own strength to walk away from you, and she is already better for it."

Then, Rhys grinned, his power rattling against the wards around the Autumn Court, "I think you'll find, Lucien, that y/n belongs to me, she is property of the Night Court, her blood is a powerful tool that we can use to solidify our line. Since she is unmated, with no claim to her hand, it does mean that as long as she breathes, she is mine."

The words were a statement, and Rhys' voice did not falter. It was an old tradition, one marred in hatred and sadness. You were the daughter of a High Lord, and when he died, the archaic responsibility of marrying you into a suitable line fell to Rhys.

"I do suggest that you hand her over, I would hate to decimate your court, Eris. Especially when you've been working so hard to rectify the tyranny of your father," Rhys' hand drifted over his heart in mock sympathy.

There was no way in Hel that Eris would ever do such a thing, and he knew that there was no easy way for Rhys to willingly wage war on another court after what Prythian had only begun fully recovering from.

It was risky, but he couldn't let Rhys think he had him pinned to the frozen dirt like a snow fox to a bunny, "Rally your armies then, Rhysand, because there's no reality that exists where I would ever hand her over to you," then a feline smirk consumed his face, he ran his hand through his hair of fire and struck hard, "It seems to me that you only wish for her return so that no one learns what she is capable of. I intend to let her find out, and perhaps when the others realise too, of her story and what you've done, we may have High Queen on our hands."

Darkness exploded from him, his arms elongated into talons, his wings grew and creaked at the stretch like leather, he roared, an inhuman sound that sent shivers prickling down Eris and Lucien's spines; and even Azriel and Cassian had to step back with wide eyes at the sight of it.

Bingo.

With a graceful bow, Eris turned on his heels, beckoning his growling hounds whose hackles had raised to the skies, "I wish you a safe journey home, Rhysand. Send Feyre our collective regards," he called over his shoulder, not even flinching at the roar that flew threw the air.

They had what they wanted, the reason for Rhys' insistence, he knew that you had the power within you to be granted the highest honour of their world, and he had worked his entire existence to stop that from happening.

If Rhys wanted a war, then that's what he would get. Eris would rain hellfire over Prythian, and he knew for a fact that you would stand beside him smiling the entire time.

Eris and Lucien couldn't have been more relieved to be back at Fir Manor, the warmth of the estate shook their frozen bones back to life and they bristled off the jagged edges left by the words exchanged with Rhys.

Stones clunked together under their feet, but a hand on his arm stopped Eris moving to the house that was glowing with the essence of you. Golden light emitted from the windows and kissed the cobbled path before it, and girlish laughter drifted from the open windows along with the most divine smell.

"Before we go back in, I have to ask you something," Eris tensed and turned to his brother, his hair was unbound down the back of his fur coat, his mechanical eye surveyed him inquisitively, "Did you mean what you said back there? You'd go to war for her?"

Eris could had scoffed at the question, he removed his arm from his brothers grip and turned to the manor, smiling at the sight of you, Nesta, and Elain all dancing before the window, the neck of a wine bottle in your fingers and a sweet melody falling from your lips. Elain was cradling Willow in her arms who looked thrilled to be involved whilst Nesta had her own arms wound around your waist.

"Would you go to war for Elain?"

"Without question."

The sound of Eris' message being received was enough, but he spoke, "I have a feeling it won't come to that though. Call it a hunch."

Lucien hummed, not quite sure of what Eris meant, but followed after him as he paced down the path and up the porch steps, flinging the door open and grinning at your startled state as you fumbled to hide the wine bottle behind your back, "You're back," you whispered to him, the strap of your form fitting green dress falling over your shoulder which you didn't move to lift as you gazed at him.

His face was prickled with cold, his cheeks flush from walking into the heated manor from the wild winter winds; Eris shrugged off his coat and lay the garment over the arm of one of the armchairs of the seating area, pulling his sleeves up to expose his forearms, "I'm back."

"I'm here too, just in case anyone wanted to know," Lucien all but rolled his eyes at you as he passed, pressing his lips to Elain's forehead who fell into his embrace with Willow still firmly swaddled to her body, "Who's been cooking? I could smell it from outside," he delved deeper into the house despite Elain's scolding telling him that dinner wasn't ready yet.

Nesta followed the pair with a groan, taking the bottle of wine from behind your back and muttering something about saving the meal from Lucien's paws, leaving you and Eris alone.

Fiddling with your fingers, you took a step toward him, noticing a strand of his hair fall over his face and watching as his fingers moved to rake it back, such a thigh-clenching thing to witness. "How was it?"

"It was fine," his eyes still held a cold glare to them, one that was waning the longer it was fixated upon you, "We got what we needed."

"Which was?”

The nerves radiating from you were making even Eris feel nervous, he tiled his head to the side and took a step closer to you, his hands at his sides, "Not worthy enough to talk of now. Let's have tonight as a newly formed found family, and tomorrow, we can talk. I'll tell you everything you want to know."

Another step forward was taken by you, the hem of your dress swaying at the motion. You were so close to him that he could feel your warmth seep into his bones, so close that his cold breath made your own cheeks flush red.

It felt natural, to close the gap and fling your arms around him, to bury your face into his chest and deeply inhale his scent like you needed that to know that he had come back to you. There was a single beat where Eris just stood there frozen to the ground, but he slowly ran his fingers up your sides until one of them rested around your waist and the other cradled the back of your head, his nose rested atop of you, his lips ghosting at your hairline.

"I was worried," you admitted, squeezing him closer, thinking that if you didn't tell him that then he would think you weren't appreciative of the position he was now in.

Eris chuckled, it was low and rough, swirls of fire danced around your figures and his thumb rubbed small circles into the back of your neck, "You can't be rid of me that easily, Fawn."

The scampering of steps made you pull back from him, and he yearned to hold you again without a care about who would see and what they would say. Lucien entered the room once more holding a beautifully decorated cupcake in his hand, a raised brow on his face and fighting a smirk once he noted your closeness, "These cakes are amazing, y/n."

"Thank you, Lucien," you swayed back and forth on the balls of your feet, your eyes drowsy with drunkenness.

"I sent for dinner for your three, why are you cooking?" Eris asked, confused, only a fool would turn down food from the Autumn Court chefs.

Nesta shrugged, plopping herself down on one of the deep rooted chairs, licking her fingers free from icing, "Elain sent them away, says she can do better."

"Which you're now all ruining thanks to her cakes," Elain's hands were on her hips and she pointed to you, her apron was coated in flour, her hair was strewn up and messy, and it was clear that she was busy cooking before you and Nesta had pulled her from the kitchen to dance, "They are rather lovely, y/n. You should be thrilled."

Eris' heart fluttered as you turned to him, a hopeful glint in your eye, "Would you like to try one? I think you'd like them," he couldn't speak, he couldn't find the words really.

The firelight made you look ethereal, the golden flames danced in the glistening pools in your eyes, so pristine that he could see himself in them, "I'm afraid that I don't have much of a sweet tooth," your smile faltered, "I'm sorry."

The gaze he felt on his face was enough to make him warm the blood in warning to its owner, Lucien coughed, red faced and watering eyes and you turned to him with worry before he strained the words, "Sorry, crumb," a lie.

"Okay," you whistled, not at all noticing the silent daggers drifting between the two Vanserra brothers, which was odd considering how observant you usually were, perhaps it was the wine floating to your head.

Maybe you were letting your guard down and didn't feel the need to be watching everyone anymore.

Eris watched you retreat into the kitchen with Elain, waiting until you were out of view before he readied himself for Lucien, "I cannot remember a time when you denied yourself a dessert."

"Things change."

"Not with you they don't," Lucien stared after his mate, his eyes full of love and desire, full of possibility and thoughts of the future.

When the news had spread of Lucien and Elain's mating, Eris was truly happy for them, out of everyone he knew his brother was the one most deserving of that happiness, of that type of love. Eris couldn't say the same for himself, he didn't think he deserved any light after the things he had done, after the atrocities he had inflicted over the course of his existence. Having a mate was something he could never allow himself to dream of, everything he touched turned to ask, his fire and mask too cold to allow anyone close enough.

Eris had depleted his worth, he never let anyone touch him, he would cower from it like a wounded animal. Even when he laid with the courtesans, their time together was restricted to just sex, no kissing, no holding one another, just unsatisfying sex that made him bathe in self-loathing whilst his partner relished in the feeling of being fucked by fire.

There was always a part of him that felt unworthy, his father had gone as far to tell him so, multiple times. Every touch sent him spiralling into memories, ones of mutilation and marring, but when you had touched him, when you had wrapped your arms around him and held him close, he didn't feel the need to shrink away or unwind you from his body. All he wanted to do was keep you there forever, and that, that was something remarkable on its own.

You may have been Prythian's darkest secret, but he found you to be the only thing worth fighting for.

His salvation.

It wasn't long after dinner that you had disappeared from view.

It didn't take Eris long to embark on his search from you, excusing himself from the table that had long since gone quiet without your teasing stories of your upbringing and playdates with the High Lord beside you.

Eris didn't think that you would remember your visits to Autumn when you were a child, thinking that you were too young to retain the memories that he had held onto tightly. You were such an innocent little thing back then, and he remembered his wonderment when you had seen the orange ring in your eyes, displaying his own fire to compare the two and enjoying the sound of your giggles far too much.

He was sure that there was talk of a union between the two of you, he remembered the hushed whispers and beaming smiles of pride as both sets of parents gazed at the two of you playing in the corner with Lucien and Rhys adjacent. Though, neither of your brothers could steal your attention away from the other.

It was what he had held onto all of those years apart, in the moment when the light began to dim and the abuse began to accelerate, in the times when he wondered where you had gone. There were gaps in his mind, like memories had been stolen and locked elsewhere because he couldn't truly remember the last time he had seen you before the time he had caught a glimpse of your wingless figure wandering the halls Under The Mountain.

Eris wandered down the halls of the manor, following your scent that clung to the walls, absentmindedly pondering where exactly he would place a portrait of you in the vast home.

The sound of gentle whimpers entered his earshot and he stopped in his tracks, turning his head to the side to listen harder. He knew that the whimpers were coming from you, they weren't scared ones, but ones of pain, and his heart raced in his chest at the mere thought of you being in any form of pain under his roof.

Knocking softly on the door to your room, his old room, the grandest chamber in the entire manor, he waited patiently and listened to the shuffle of your feet and the soft padding of your companion before the door opened to reveal your strained features and a certain hound peeking around the wood, "You left."

Turning from him, you winced, leaving the door open enough for him to let himself inside, "I get these knots under my scars, it feels like I'm being stabbed, and I just need a minute when it starts."

Eris had heard of it, of the pain residing in the bones and muscles of clipped Illyrian females, sometimes so severe that they believe a new pair are pushing their way through the marred crescent moon scars, and breaking a little when they realised that it wasn't the case.

"It's been happening more recently, I think it might be stress related," you huffed out a laugh. It wouldn't be surprising, you had gone through enough to have permanent knots twisting at your shoulders, "Mor or Azriel usually tend to them," your voice was full of longing as you perched on the edge of the chaise lounge before the roaring fireplace. Willow had hopped up onto the plush piece of furniture, spinning in three circles before settling her head into your lap. Eris made a note to scold her for that later.

The tattoo on your arm shone in the golden embers, swirls of shadow and fire intertwining and dancing around your bicep, "I can help."

"Eris," you winced softly as you turned your head to him, "I couldn't ask you to do that, you've done so much already."

"You're not asking," he moved behind you, his fingers hovering over the sheer fabric of your dress that was transparent enough for him to see the muscle contorting under your skin, "If all I can give you is some relief, then I will."

A moment passed as you thought about it, but you nodded, giving him permission to unlace the strings holding the back of your dress together and pull the straps over your shoulders.

Eris' fingers were warm against your skin, you sucked in a breath at the contact, you felt fire spread across your surface as his gently wound his fingers into your flesh, "I want to try something." When you said nothing, he took it as a sign of agreement, he allowed his fire to flow into his fingertips, the heat of them unwinding the knot in your muscles instantly, withering the demon under your skin into the abyss, "Better?"

"Much," you glanced over your shoulder, "Thank you," your eyes were dazed and you smiled at him, your own fingers running down the space between Willow's eyes and down her long nose.

A question had been poking at him the moment he had seen it, the tattoo that glowed in the light, the one that when you looked at it for a moment too long seemed to dance, "That tattoo. It was a bargain?"

A solemn nod, "Yes," you confirmed, "Between Azriel and I," you gazed into the fire and sighed, but you didn't move away from Eris when he took the seat beside you, "We promised that we would always look after one another, that we would never feel harm at the other's hand."

You smiled sadly, "Azriel and I weren't so different, we were both raised by people who didn't particularly want us, burdened with a power we didn't understand. I think we understood one another in a way no one else could, we knew what we needed and when, we basically knew each other better than we knew ourselves," your voice trailed off, "At least, I thought we did," tears pooled on your bottom lids and you blinked hard to rid your vision of their blurry infliction.

Eris watched you shudder, the loneliness and betrayal worming its way into your soul like you had realised the gravity of it all.

Shuffling closer, Eris' thigh brushed against your own, his fingers millimetres away from yours and he gave into his desire to touch you as his index finger curled around your little one. A simple action to show that he understood, and more a singular moment, you let your guard down, the walls tumbled and you felt his power wash over you, kissing your own and sewing together the brittle remnants of your essence.

The room shifted, the world tilted, and you felt a sensation you had never felt before. Looking down, you found black flames licking up your fingers, they danced up your arms and across your connected digits to curl around Eris.

Neither of you moved, you both simply gazed at it, his fire and your darkness moulding together to create a wonderous crackle of flame that didn't burn either of you. It was softly calling out, and you raised your entwined fingers to inspect it carefully.

It was meant to be terrifying, but the personification of your darkness felt more childlike than anything, it was excited and new, and it nestled itself onto both of your limbs.

"I've never seen anything like this before," Eris held your palm atop of his own, his fingers smoothing over your pulse as his eyes found you, examining your face, namely your eyes where the fire in them burnt brightly.

Eris should have cowered away from you, but he loved your touch more than anything, and no matter how fleeting it may be, he would bathe in it for as long as he possibly could. "Neither have I," you tilted your head, realisation was littered on you, "But I've read about it. It's called Carranam, I think." The look in your enlightened eyes told him of the rarity of such a thing.

"You really are a clever little thing, aren't you?"

A sidelong glance and smirk later, you drawled, "You don't even know the half of it, High Lord."

Author's Note

Here she is!!!

Hope you love this and are going just as feral as me right now 🫶🏻

Taglist

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regressionschool · 5 months

Text

realitychange.com

Daniel is lounging on the couch, casually playing with his phone when, by some lucky accident, the website "realitychange.com" pops up on the screen. His eyes widen as he reads the text on the page – it says something about changing reality itself. At first, he's a bit hesitant, thinking it might be too good to be true. But then, a mischievous grin spreads across his face. "Why not give it a shot? What harm could it do?" he wonders.

He reads the instructions on the website and spots a text field where he can type his wishes. Suddenly, a mischievous idea pops into Daniel's head. He recalls a diaper commercial he recently saw on TV, and a lightbulb goes off. "What if my sister wore baby diapers?" he thinks to himself. With a sly smile, Daniel types his wish into the text field.

As soon as he hits the enter button, Daniel chuckles to himself, half expecting nothing to happen. Daniel decides to find his sister and see if there's any change. He heads off to search for her, and after a short while, he discovers her on her knees, rummaging through a cabinet, hunting for cleaning supplies. However, what catches Daniel completely off guard is what his sister is wearing. She's still donning her usual black t-shirt, but beneath that, she's dressed in a conspicuously babyish diaper, with nothing else to cover it. Daniel can't help but burst into laughter at the sight. His sister looks up, clearly surprised by his sudden amusement. "What's so funny?" she asks, unaware of the wish Daniel had made just moments ago. Trying to stifle his laughter, Daniel manages to compose himself and replies, "Oh, nothing. I just remembered something funny.“ His sister gives him a puzzled look but shrugs it off, continuing with her search for cleaning supplies.

Curiosity getting the better of him, Daniel returns to the website, pondering what else he could type to test the reality-altering capabilities of this mysterious platform. After a moment of contemplation, he decides to type another wish: "My sister is wetting her diaper.“ As the words appear on the screen, Daniel feels a mixture of excitement and uncertainty. He wonders if anything will really happen this time. Intrigued and a bit nervous, he heads back to the kitchen to check on his sister.

To his amazement, the change is evident. His sister, still engrossed in her search for cleaning supplies, now sports a noticeably soggy diaper beneath her black t-shirt. Daniel's eyes widen as he observes the unexpected outcome of his latest wish. Unable to contain his surprise, Daniel exclaims, "Uh, sis, did you... uh, did you know your diaper is wet?" His sister looks puzzled for a moment, glancing down at her diaper. Realization dawns on her face as she registers the wetness.

Blushing, she stammers, "I... I didn't even notice. I better go change then. Thanks for letting me know," she says, shooting Daniel a bemused smile.

feeling a mix of amusement and mischievousness, Daniel rushes back to the website and eagerly types his next wish: "My sister is not allowed to change herself; she needs to ask someone for help."

After a few moments, he hears his sister calling from the other room.

"Hey, Daniel, can you come here for a moment?" she asks. As he enters the room, he sees her standing there with a sheepish smile, still in her wet diaper. "Um, I was wondering if you could help me with something," she says, a hint of embarrassment in her voice.

Daniel can hardly believe the turn of events. It seems like his wish has taken effect. Suppressing a grin, he responds, "Sure, what do you need help with?“

"Seriously, Daniel? You forgot again, didn't you?" she says, crossing her arms.

Daniel, realizing his sister's annoyance, tries to play it cool. "Oh, right, sorry. I got distracted. Sure, let's get you changed."

Daniel is surprised to find that he knows exactly how to change diapers, as if some hidden knowledge has been unlocked within him. His hands move with an almost instinctive precision, the muscle memory guiding him through the steps of the diaper-changing process. It's as though he's been doing this routine for years.

As he efficiently changes his sister, Daniel can't help but marvel at the strange turn of events. The website, with its mysterious power, seems to have bestowed upon him not just the ability to influence reality but also the practical know-how to navigate these altered situations.

As Daniel finishes the task, he contemplates what other surprises realitychange.com might have in store for him and his sister.

pictures featuring the adorable acuteacorn

#ab/dl diaper #diaper captions #ab/dl caption #ab/dl stories #diaper stories #regression school #ab/dl girl #wetting diaper #diaper bulge #realitychange.com

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nyursi · 4 months

Text

𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐋𝐘!

꒰ † ੭‎ㅤNSFW 18+ㅤ(MDNI)... well, the favonius church's choir had a spectacular ensemble. one stood out in particular.ㅤノㅤnot proofread.

ᡴꪫ‎ TODAY'S SPECIAL!ㅤkaeya alberich.

WOULD YOU LIKE SPRINKLES? (っω=`)ㅤm!rdr, religious themes, kaeya jacks off to you cause he's horny, drabble.

ㅤ ⏝꒷۰꒷⏝꒷۰꒷⏝꒷۰꒷⏝

Call it irony or whatever, but the fact that Kaeya still attended church while drunk and out of his mind was pretty funny. Of course, considering that Sister Rosaria was no better than the Cavalry Captain— Kaeya let go of all his guilt and entered the Holy grounds anyway.

Besides, spending an hour in here was all worth it, as Kaeya had his eye on a special someone.

You were close with Barbara, and a few months younger than Jean, so your relationship with the sisters certainly helped you settle in Mondstadt. A long time ago, when you first came to the humble city, Kaeya was oddly pleased to see a feline roaming the streets. Save for Diona, who was too busy handling the Cat's Tail.

And you can call him weird, obsessive, strange. But can you blame him? With your honey-toned voice constantly singing during Mass— who could resist the urge to hear more? Truly, locals adored you. Even if there was a whole ensemble in the stands, it was you who stood out and took the spotlight. Kaeya was no better.

It was just another day for him. Rosaria was his close friend, and since she paid for the booze he drank last time, he owed her. And thus, when she asked to accompany her at the Church, Kaeya begrudgingly complied. Really— he was so ready to take a seat and get some shut eye. They arrived a few minutes earlier, so what harm could be done?

Not 5 minutes passed and he was already awoken. "Uhm, excuse me...?" A soft voice he heard. Gentle shaking on his shoulder. Kaeya hummed, not ready to wake up just yet. Nonetheless, he opened his eye, ready to throw some passsive agressive remark at whoever dared to stop his slumber.

But shit.

"Sir? Mass is starting soon, it would be very disrespectful to sleep through it!" Not a word made it through Kaeya's ears, too busy listening to the angelic melody that suddenly praised him when he looked at you. Clothing that those in the Church wore daily, something so innocent, pure and white, somehow became unholy with the way it clung to your figure. He couldn't help the way his eyes trailed down, down, down, til' they landed on your shorts.

Tight and snug. They barely looked like shorts with how high up they were. But Kaeya wasn't complaining— not at all.

And fuck— was that a thigh belt? Kaeya gulped, seeing the shining vision dangling on your thigh. To keep himself from any more thoughts, he quickly looked up at you.

Ah. You were staring.

Did he look weird? Was it obvious he eyed you like some treat? As if he were a kid, drooling for candy? Or did you find him handsome? Attractive like he did you.

"Ah, my apologies. Thank you for waking me up." He chuckled, scratching his scalp as if he were guilty. You crossed your arms and pouted, lips puckered and Kaeya had an urge to suck on them. "It's alright, but please be more attentive. We're starting soon." You reminded, before turning around, heading to the stands.

And if you felt a burning glare on your behind, Kaeya prayed you believed it to be your imagination.

Safe to say that first interaction guaranteed many more to come. Kaeya was greedy, a selfish man who had not one, but two addictions.

Alcohol was just his mistress.

So he kept coming. Anytime he could, Kaeya attended Mass like he was a Saint. Rosaria called him crazy, but he couldn't deny that claim. He would go mad if there was not a single glimpse he could catch of the cute singer.

He found it funny how something so innocent managed to catch the attention of a dirty man.

One time, you made a particular face when the sun got caught in your eyes. Your eyes squinted, lips pulled in a small frown, and Kaeya imagined that to be the face you made if he ever came on it.

Yeah. He was fucked.

At some point his right hand became sore with his nightly activities, accompanied by the repeating scenarios in his mind that fueled his desire even more. Kaeya couldn't wait any sooner.

He wanted you. He needed you.

Kaeya attended the next days Mass, clean as ever. As if he didn't spend last night fucking his fist to you, until the sun rose. Groaning and wishing that it was you around his cock, not his left hand. (He had to alternate.)

He couldn't handle it. Every time he saw you, thoughts would pop up in his head in the most random places. He walks past you in the streets? All of a sudden he imagines breeding you on the cobble path. A glimpse of your cat ears from afar? He dreams of tugging and biting at them. The worst one that ever happened was at Church.

Kaeya frequented the place so much that you eventually grew a friendship. Greeting him whenever you saw the tall, sunkissed, eye-patch wearing man. One time, while waiting for Mass to start, you actually sat down beside him to talk. He had to fight off a boner.

One of the Deacons dropped the long candle, and you, ever kind and pure, stood up to get it for them. Soon as you bent down, Kaeya shamelessly eyed your butt. He always did that, but what caught his eye were your cute little balls, snug against the thin fabric of your shorts.

Either they were that tight, or you decided to go commando.

Kaeya hoped it to be the latter.

Not only was he blessed with the sight of your buttocks, full and plump, but your round balls too. Kaeya wanted to pinch them. Squeeze, suck, fondle, put them in his mouth— he didn't care. As long as he got to touch your sweet cheeks too.

If holding in a boner while taking to you was hard, this was a lot more extreme. Not to mention your cute tail; that dangled and swayed, urging him to pull on it.

"Oh dear! Sir Kaeya! You're bleeding!" You exclaimed, hurriedly taking out a cloth napkin from your pocket. Wiping at the blood that dribbled down his nose. "Are you alright? Perhaps you should miss out on today. Please get some rest."

He didn't even fight back, too shell-shocked at the fact he got a fucking nosebleed from that. But hey, at least he has your napkin!

And if he returns it to you the next day; sticky, crumpled, and wet? Don't question it.

vanillaclaws 2024. do not repost.

#っω=`)ㅤ⎯⎯ㅤmy works...#( ୨୧‎ )ㅤheavenly!#kaeya smut #kaeya alberich x male reader #kaeya x male reader #bottom male reader #uke male reader #sub male reader

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moonpetrichors-blog · 1 year

Note

AHHH HIHII!! i luv ur work it literally has me twirling my hair and shi, i was wondering if u could write a neteyam x navin reader where the reader is like playing with tuk and neteyam realizes he was in love with reader on the spot the whole time and he could imagine like a future with the reader aswell?? TYSM I LOVE UR WRITING SM

Something About You

Tags: Neteyam x Omaticaya!Reader, Fem!Reader, Fluff, Crush Blush, Longing Look, Tuk is The Best Wingman, Good With Kids

Warnings: None

One afternoon, Neteyam had to watch over his youngest sister. You insisted on accompanying him, and he agreed, not minding the extra help. As you played with Tuk, the thought crossed Neteyam's mind that suddenly, you might just be the prettiest girl he'd ever seen.

EIOEWGHOEH EVERYTIME I SEE ASKS LIKE THIS I START GIGGLING AND KICKING MY FEET LMAOO 😭😭 this idea is super lovely, and tysm for the support, happy new years btw ♥♥ also if u look at the title, I based it off the eyedress song 🤭 italics are Neteyam’s thoughts btw!!

* ˚ ✦ 1075 Words • Read below the cut

╭┈─────── ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-╰┈➤ ❝ [01/01/23] ❞

Neteyam sighed as he followed you and his sister. His parents had requested him to watch after her today, and you had overheard their chat. You asked Neteyam if you could accompany him because you enjoyed playing with Tuk, and he concurred. He's never been sure what his little sister liked to do, so your assistance was greatly appreciated.

Tuk squeezed your hand as you guided her towards the woods. The sun was shining brilliantly, and the foliage was soaking up the warmth. The trees were golden in hue, and you eventually found a large expanse of grass for you and Tuk to romp in.

Neteyam selected a tree to relax against, and settled comfortably while you and Tuk traveled only a little further away. He looked at you both, laughing and spinning around the woodland.

Neteyam was frightened for a moment and nearly leapt out of his seat when you lifted up Tuk to toss her into the air, but he calmed down when he saw how effortlessly you retrieved her again. He cannot help but be concerned about his siblings' welfare, but he knows you're excellent with children. You'd never do anything that would harm them.

Tuk's laugh resonated through the treetops as she pleaded with you to throw her again. She appeared to be having fun, but you suddenly realized that Neteyam must be bored sitting alone and observing.

You caught Tuk once more and gently lowered her on the grass. “Neteyam, why don’t you come here and play with us?”

He shook his head, and smiled. “I’m okay.”

You shrugged, and continued to play with his little sister.

...

You ultimately grew tired of tossing Tuk into the air, so you devised a brilliant plan.

“Tuk, why don’t I decorate your braids?”

She seemed perplexed for a moment, before you clarified that you were going to pick out some flowers to put in her hair. Her eyes sparkled at the thought, and she, of course, answered yes.

Tuk was seated in your lap as you meticulously ornamented her braids with an assortment of various, colorful flowers you had gathered. Neteyam maintained his gaze from a distance, and he began to grin to himself. He thought to himself that you were wonderful with kids, and his smile only grew even wider when Tuk gazed into her reflection in a nearby waterhole.

She giggled with delight at her enhanced appearance. “Thank you so much Y/N!”

Because she was so adorable, you pinched her cheeks.

Tuk scrunched up her nose, recoiling from the action. “Let me put flowers in your braids too!”

You agreed with a nod and sat down in front of her. You failed to notice Neteyam's intense stare at you as Tuk adorned your tresses with the leftover blossoms. The sunlight cascaded over you so sweetly that you gleamed like a gift from Eywa herself. Neteyam couldn't believe he'd never noted how stunning you were, and the feeling was further accentuated by the flowers in your hair. He massaged his burning cheeks with his palm; was he blushing?

Tuk's amusement at using you as her personal doll unabated, and the one idea orbiting Neteyam's short-circuiting mind, aside from how you looked straight out of his dreams, was how natural you were with children. Would you behave similarly with your children together, too?

Wait, what?

He had to mentally scold himself for thinking such a thing. Even though it felt improper to envisage it with you because you were only a friend, he couldn't peel the gaze of burning desire away from you. His brain begged him to suppress these feelings, but his heart and blazing cheeks revealed a different story.

His heart stopped. When you decided to turn around, you met his eyes that refused to look away. Neteyam sucked in a breath, fearful for a moment that you could see into his thoughts. He released a sigh of relief as you merely cracked a smile towards him, not knowing how he was really staring at you.

Then another terrifying thought had crossed his mind. Had he always liked you?

You veered away from Tuk to catch a glimpse of your reflection in the waterhole as Neteyam battled with himself internally. You clasped your hands together, praising Tuk on her work, and hugged her warmly. She was scooped up again and twirled around.

You sidled up to Neteyam after you had laid Tuk down, scratching the back of your neck. The sunshine from behind your figure seeped into his vision as he stared up at you through his thick lashes. He didn't mind that he could only see you.

You looked at him sheepishly. “How do I look?”

He snapped out of his reverie, and stuttered for a moment before registering that you asked him a question.

“So pretty.”

As you looked straight at him stupidly, he threw his palm over his mouth. You were both matching blushes as you were suddenly feeling blisteringly hot. Tuk giggled from behind you, her eyes narrowed at her brother.

It didn't help that she was whispering 'Neteyam's got a cruushh...'

Damn that child.

You turned around to hear what she said, and out of your peripheral vision, Neteyam lifted his fist at her, mouthing for her to quit speaking. When your gaze met hers you arched an eyebrow, but she had already closed her mouth and remained serious. She cracked an innocent smile at you.

You looked back at Neteyam, and decided that all of a sudden you had very, very important obligations to attend to at that moment.

“Well, I think I should get home now, haha!”

Neteyam stood up abruptly, laughing nervously. He was chanting in his head to speak confidently.

He stuttered instead. “Oh, me too, haha! Me and Tuk should be meeting with our parents again.”

You couldn't stop giggling uncontrollably like idiots, and while you were heading in opposite directions, you unintentionally bonked heads. He groaned in pain as he touched the tender region on his forehead, but apologized profusely when he noticed that you were also afflicted.

You couldn't bear how mortified you were, so you let out a torrent of apologies and hurried out of the woodland as swiftly as you could. You couldn't believe Neteyam had declared you were pretty!

In your wake, you left behind a trail of flowers. Neteyam discreetly grabbed and pocketed one. You know, for safekeeping.

There was just something about you.

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valliesworld · 1 year

Text

You Mean Something

masterlist

simon “ghost” riley x reader, mentions of other task force 141 members

genre: angst

warnings; she/her pronouns, mature content, standard call of duty violence, cursing, kidnapping, mentions of self harm and suicide, mentions of torture, starvation

synopsis; after a failed mission that left you in the hands of the enemy, you finally realise how much Ghost cares for you

Distractions came easy to you, even if you tried your hardest to stay focused, to stay alive and awake, your mind still thought of him while you were being subjected to such torture. You think about his eyes a lot, how in his eyes his his humanity was shown, the person he really was. There were times it got lost, when he would that mask and military vest, when he would become the man the army demanded of him. But you saw it in his eyes that day in the sunshine, waiting for the cadets to finish training. You saw the humour that burned there too, the sort that stays for an eternity. There was something in his spirit that danced when he trains, like a fire giving just the right amount of warmth. You have seen it die too, the flames almost extinguished, when he was under the gun of guilt, shame and fear after a particularly hard mission. You know that isn't him, not the real version, the person you’ve grown to love with everything that is yourself. That's why you had to see his eyes before you go, to see the real him before you decided to give up and let death win. You wanted him to see you too, the girl who messes up, but would do anything in her power to keep him and the squad safe, to keep him emotionally healthy, no matter how deep his scars go. So when you think of him, you see a cheeky man who made cadets run laps til they turned green and hope to god he thinks of the vulnerable version of you, the one beneath the soldier.

In moments of silence, when your captors would leave you be, you would remembered the last conversation you had with your family. She had wished you well with tears in her eyes, making you promise you’d come back to her. Your father had been busting himself with house work, refusing to acknowledge that his youngest child was off to another suicide mission, just like he always did before you left. You had kissed your mother on the cheek as a goodbye, not promising a thing but granting her a smile, just in case that was the last time she’d ever see you again. Death wasn’t scary for you, you had accepted that you would die young, in your line of work death was not something that could be prevented, no matter how hard you might try. What did scare you though, was your nieces and nephews growing up without you, only seeing you in photos, it was your mother and father having to bury their youngest, it was your older brother and sister living without you. Death didn’t scare you, but the impact of yours on your family did.

You didn't know how long you had been held captive for, it could have been weeks, months, even years, at that point. What you did know was that the starvation they subjected you to as one last punishment had began to take it's toll on your body, your weight had dropped rapidly, leaving those metal cuffs loose around your wrists and ankles. At first it had been small strands of hair falling out from stress, then slowly it became more and more til you were left with thin strands to cover your head. Your body was always shivering, cold to touch, and you didn't know whether it was because you were forced to sleep on freezing concrete or if hypothermia was beginning. to settle within your bones.

Makarov had captured you for one thing, he had seen potential in you, wanted you on his side, and the only way he believed he could do that was if he broke you down into nothing, just to rebuild you as the soldier he always desired. He had watched from afar as you had taken down men three times your size, as you cleared bases by yourself, and how you lived up to your callsign. He knew you were young, younger than the other task force members, and with being young came being naive and impressionable, Makarov wanted to use those attributes and swing them to his favour.

In some of your exhausted delusions, you dreamt of your team, of your family. You had dreamt of your first Christmas with the task force, how you had sat in your room with the computer screen on, talking and listening to your family on the other line, wishing to be back home and apart of their celebrations, that was, until Gaz barged into your room and dragging you out for a Christmas surprise with your chosen family. You had dreamt of the day you accepted death, how you leant up against that brick wall, the rain pouring from above and mixing with your blood; red water sweeping the street. You had accepted your fate that afternoon, dying alone, until you knight in a shining skull mask whisked you off your feet and to survival. You dreamt of the day your nephew was born, how his tiny hands wrapped around your finger, chosing you to be his favourite person in that moment. You dreamt of many things, but one always kept returning. The delusion that Ghost would save you one last time.

"Fear is part of being human, Redback, it's the precursor to bravery. We need it, it wakes us up to what needs to be done. So feel it, own it, let it ignite your thoughts," Gaz's words echo in your mind constantly, they were one of the first words he ever spoke to you, and they resonated with her throughout her short years with the task force. They kept you alive at that point, they told you no matter how inhuman you felt, you were still alive, still breathing, still ready to fight.

Your cell was a hollow cube of concrete, one way in, no windows. In there you could have no idea how much time had passed or even if it was night or day. It was totally disorientating by design. Given enough time a person could forget their own name in there, and you were beginning to. The isolation was total and the stimulation was zero. No sound, no light, no furniture or cloth of any kind.

You could hear the sound of feet slamming against concrete, though your eyes never opened, refusing to see what was coming to torment you that time. They had stripped you of everything, they took your weapons, and your dignity. They had left you to rot in the cell in cotton underwear and a white undershirt, though both items were caked in dirt, grim, and stained with your own blood.

The sound of keys jingling had caught your attention, and when you opened your eyes you kept your gaze away from the intruder. Instead, you found the bruises and dried blood on your ankles far more interesting. The person had unlocked your hands first, fumbling with the keys as if he were nervous, as if something had gone wrong, and that had been his first mistake. When your hands were greeted freedom, you finally looked over at the man, your knife, the one they had stolen from you, sat perched on his hip. They had stolen your gear just to use it against you, and that fact gave you more motivation than anything previously, you wanted your things back.

Without a second of hesitation, your hands wrapped around the knife, plucking it from his tactical belt, your tactical belt, and plunged it into his thigh. He cried out in pain, something you never gave them the satisfaction of hearing, as he doubled over from the fiery sensation in his leg you pulled the knife out again and plunged it into his neck, blood that was not yours finally coating your body again. As you let out all your frustration on the man, pulling the knife out just to slam it back in over and over again, you began to register the sound of gunfire, the sound of Russian shouting, and the feeling of panic the base you were trapped within was beginning to feel.

Once you were positive the man below you was dead, you began stripping him as they had once stripped you. You took the keys from his cold, dead hands, and unlocked your feet from the shackles, your ankles screaming in relief. You then took his clothing, albeit they were far too large for you, they were better than what you had been forced to stay in for your time as a prisoner. Tightening the pants around your waist with your belt, you felt somewhat okay, you didn't feel helpless or hopeless, you felt determined, determined to get out of there yourself, since there would be no rescue party for you.

Gripping onto the rifle, one that wasn't yours originally, you began your escape. As you made your way through the base, leaving a trail of bodies behind you, you felt like yourself again, you felt like the soldier once were. You had reminded yourself of things that were facts; you were one of the youngest ever recorded female members to join the SAS, you were an accomplished soldier, a sergeant before your twenty first birthday, you were a force to be reckoned with; those facts kept you motivated throughout your escape, you were all those things, and more, and you could get yourself out of any situation.

Sticking to the shadows, you took down over twenty soldiers, cornering them til they were alone, and that tactic had worked well enough, til your luck ran out. The corner you took was one of bad judgement, over fifteen men resided there, all on high alert for your whereabouts, and with no shadows to conceal yourself, you had no other option but to simply turn back around, though when you did so, you found yourself face with thirty other men, ready to pounce. Weighing your options, you knew that to surrender was your only choice, if you wanted to stay alive. Letting the rifle hang from your shoulder, you held your hands up, defeat running thick through your veins.

They didn't make a move though, not one soldier stood out of line, all of them waiting for you to make the first move, to do something unpredictable, until he sauntered out of the crowd. Makarov's second in charge, Yuri, grinned like a mad man as he gripped you roughly, pulling you in the direction of another room and dismissing the men on guard. You were no longer deemed as a threat as he led you into the room, far nicer than the cell you had grown accustomed to.

He stripped you of your weapons, though he was not thorough, leaving your bloodied knife within your waistband as he took the rifle and pistol from your body, turning the safety on and throwing them across the room.

"I thought we beat the need to escape out of you," he tsked, hands feeling your body in a way far less appropriate than simply looking for weapons. "But I now see that you have to be broken in a different way to get you to comply with our rules."

Your heart dropped to your stomach as the five other men walked through the door, dragging their bodies with them. Three had a grip on Ghost's sluggish body, and two were struggling against Soap's protests. The men forced Ghost and Soap to their knees, Ghost having to steady himself by placing his hands in front of him to keep him from falling foreword. They had drugged him, most likely using the same one they had used to keep you compliant in the first weeks of your capture.

"Redback?" Ghost questioned softly as he looked towards you, confusion running through his mind.

"These two were found sneaking around our base," Yuri revealed, toying with a piece of your hair as he forced you to look at them. Soap held a look of distraught as he looked over at you, like he had just seen a real ghost, while Ghost's eyes held a look of resentment within them. You weren't sure who the resentment was pointed towards, but you had a sneaking suspicion it wasn't directed at you. "And now you'll watch them die."

Yuri stepped foreword, his own pistol raised, pressing the barrel against Soap's head as he looked back at you. With a clenched jaw, you pulled the knife from your waistband and pressed it against your wrist. The sharpness of it caused a small speck of blood to dribble down your arm and drip to the floor, but despite the sting you kept it in place.

"Makarov wants me, you kill them and I'll die with them," You spoke clearly, despite your voice being hoarse from not speaking for days on end. "How would that look for you? Under your watch, his prized possession dies because you can't do your fucking job right."

Yuri let out a dry chuckle, "so loyal," he commented, looking towards the men knelt before him, "and where are your pleas? When she was taken from you, you left her. Maybe you two would rather her blood spill to cover your sins."

"Shut up," You hissed, their silence to his words were deafening, a heartbreaking scene as Ghost looked anywhere but at you.

"I want you to memorise this moment, they weren't here to rescue you," Yuri growled, "They were completing another mission, and you so happen to be here as well."

Ghost's eyes, despite hooded with the effects of the drug, widened slightly, struggling even harder against the three men that held him in place. Soap on the other hand, used the distraction as an ample time to escape. Taking the gun from Yuri, Soap pointed it towards the men holding him down and left off two shots, killing them quickly. You had taken this opportunity to throw the knife, watching with a sickening smile as it lodged itself into Yuri's chest. Ghost, regardless of being under the influence of a drug, took down two of the men holding him hostage while Soap let off another shot into the final man.

Ignoring the two men, you walked over towards Yuri, watching as he spluttered out in pain. Hovering over him, you crouched down, twisting the knife deeper into his chest. Pulling it out, you relished in the pool of blood that began to form.

"I want you to memorise this moment," You repeated his words to him as you dragged the bloodied knife down his cheek, smearing his own blood on his face, "that nobody is here to rescue you." and with that, you plunged the knife up through his bottom jaw.

Months had come and gone, and you had not spoken a word to anyone on Task Force 141 since you had been brought back to the. safety of your base. The wounds, the injuries to your flesh would heal long before you're able to heal your brain. You had gone through a lot, many scars now littered your body, your ankles and wrists having a permanent red line from the rubbing of your shackles, and your mind was in shambles. Laswell had told you that they hadn't looked for you once, that they assumed you were dead and had even informed your family of you being killed in action. You felt almost betrayed that they didn't even bother to look for you, that the mission was more important to them, to Ghost, than to see you still breathing.

The doctors had gotten you healthy again, gave you the fluids and sustenance you had been deprived on before setting you up with a physiotherapist. That man had retaught you how to do simple tasks, explaining to you that the only reason you were capable of such things during your escape was because of the adrenaline coursing through your veins. It had taken you four months to get back to doing things on your own, and an additional three months before you were back to your usual abilities, and still within all that time, you refused to look at the men that had left you in the hands of the enemy. They had offered you leave, to go home and spend time with family, but if the mission was as important as leaving behind a team member, it only made sense to stay and complete it before gifting yourself with seeing your parents relieved faces.

The gym was quiet at three am, sleep no longer a need for you as it only plagued your mind with unwanted memories. The sound of your knuckles coming in contact with the rubber punching bag silenced your mind, created an inner peace within you as you assaulted the equipment. Nobody else resided inside as you continued to push your abilities, seeing just how long you could do this before getting tired. You used to be able to go for hours, but now, it seemed that you could only do half of that.

Your inner peace was quickly ruined by the sound of heavy footsteps, and before you could even register what was happening, his hands wrapped around your waist and pushed you against the closest wall. He turned you to face him, the hard skull plate from his mask was gone, his balaclava the only thing separating them from each other. His breathing was heavy and his eyes were hooded from lack of sleep, the black war paint he usually sported was not there, leaving his expressions easier to read.

"You never threaten to kill yourself to save me again," His voice was rough, reminding you of a hot long black in the early of the morning, bitter and abrasive, burning your tongue. "I'd rather get shot ten times over than ever see you do that again."

Scoffing, you looked at him with a frown, "A few months too late for this revelation, Lieutenant."

"I don't care," He huffed, grip on your waist loosening, "You don't get to do that shit, not anymore."

"And you don't get too care, why do you even care? Huh?" You spluttered out, words dripping with venom, "You left me there to die, Laswell told me everything, told me how you all didn't even give me a second thought, told my fucking family I was dead."

"I watched you die," He growled out, "I watched as that bullet went through your chest, as you fell to the ground."

"And you didn't think to check? The mission that important to you that you can't go over to a wounded soldier and check if their heart is still beating?" You all but screamed at him, if you were anyone else, your yelling at a superior would go severly punished, "I was wearing a fucking chest plate, you saw me put it on, you checked I had it on before we started that fucking mission, and you still left me for dead."

"You don't think I don't remember that now?" He yelled back. at you, voice booming throughout the gym, "You don't think I wasn't awake every night wondering about you? Thinking of things I could have done differently? I completed that mission and went back for you, you were gone."

"Why do you care so much?" You hissed at him, "The first time we met you told me that I'd be another dead body at the edge of your boot because you didn't think I was good enough, why care now?"

"Because you mean something to me," He revealed, though his words were sweet his tone wasn't, it was like he resented the fact that you meant something to him, "you mean more to me every single day, that's why I care."

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