#HI HELLO THIS HAS BEEN IN MY BRAIN FOR MONTHS | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bigoltrashpile · 1 day

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Stay With Us

Hi guys!! Once again the lovely @galacticroyal93 has commissioned me! This is a yandere fic with all the boys trying to convince reader to finally move in with them! I hope you enjoy!

Lucky growled as he scrolled through the pictures on his phone. His face almost hurt from how hard he was scowling. All he wanted was a good picture of you to add to his collection, but every one had…him in it. Your boyfriend. Another growl escaped Lucky as he thought the word. Every picture you had posted to your social media for the last few months had that scum in it.

All the skeletons had, either separately or together, plotted to kill him, of course. They couldn’t just let some…nobody have you. However, Papyrus had pointed out that if they killed him now, it might only force you into depression and solitude, pushing you further away instead of closer. So they were forced to watch from afar, all seething with jealousy when you talked about your boyfriend.

Lucky chuckled as he remembered how each of them reacted when you introduced them to your date. They ranged from Papyrus trying hard to smile but looking like he had just eaten a lemon, to Scar outright producing bone attacks and using his claws to sharpen them. After a little while, you stopped mentioning him around the skeletons, and he hadn’t seen any of them face to face since that first meeting.

Of course, many of them had seen him. They had to keep tabs on their favorite human, of course, and try to find dirt about their least favorite human.

After what felt like the hundredth photo of you and your boyfriend on a date, Lucky was fed up. He tossed his phone across the room and stood up. If he wanted to see you, he could do it in person. No need to look at photos when he could just see you for himself! Those pictures could never capture your true beauty, anyway.

Before he left, he quickly grabbed the small blue vial given to him by this world’s Alphys. He probably wouldn’t need to use it, but you could never be too prepared.

Lucky quickly shortcutted close to your home. Just appearing on your doorstep would seem too clingy, this way he could pretend he was just in the area when you saw him. He and the others had done this same song and dance many times before, but you hadn’t suspected anything yet.

He had only been walking for a minute or so, when someone walked almost straight into his chest. “WOAH, WATCH OUT-OH!” What luck! It was you!! “HELLO, DEAR! WHAT A COINCIDENCE!” he said, turning on the charm. “IT’S ALWAYS A DELIGHT TO SEE Y-” Lucky froze. You looked…strange. Not in a bad way, but… “Have You Been Crying?”

You paused, touching your red and puffy eyes. “Huh? Oh, no! I mean, yeah, but no. I was crying but like, it’s fine,” you half laughed.

Well that didn’t do anything to soothe his mind. “SO YOU WERE CRYING? WHY? DID YOUR BOYFRIEND DO SOMETHING?” He tried to fight the part of him that hoped your boyfriend had messed up his relationship with you.

“I mean…yeah? But also it was me who did it,” you giggled again. “Let’s walk, actually, and I can tell you about it!”

You kept going down the street, practically humming as you did. A very strange thing for someone who was just crying but also not crying. “...ARE YOU HIGH?” Lucky asked, following close behind.

“Uh huh! Oooooooh that’s probably why you thought I was crying!” you seemed to connect the dots in your fuzzy brain. “Yeah, it’s fine! I just broke up with my boyfriend and wanted to take the edge off a bit,” you said casually.

It took every ounce of self control for Lucky to not cheer and pump his fist in the air. You were single! This was the greatest thing that had ever happened!!! He let a small smile play across his face. You were slightly in front of him, he could allow himself that luxury. “I’M SO SORRY TO HEAR THAT!” Hopefully your smoke addled brain wouldn’t hear the excitement in his voice.

“It’s okay. It was…probably not the best relationship,” you admitted. “I mean, he wasn’t abusive or anything! He just like, didn’t listen to me ever, you know?”

“HE DID ALWAYS SEEM LIKE THERE WASN’T A LOT UPSTAIRS,” Lucky admitted.

“Yeah, haha! He’s a dumbass!” you joked, smacking Lucky playfully on the arm. “Not like you guys!”

Lucky gritted his teeth. Of course. You weren’t only thinking of him, but the others as well. That’s okay, he could work with this. “I DON’T KNOW, BUTCH IS PRETTY STUPID AS WELL,” he forced a laugh.

“Yeah, but he means well.” You gave him your dazzling smile. Even slightly out of it, you were breathtaking. “Hey, where are the other guys anyway? Are you here by yourself?”

“WELL, YES. I WAS IN THE NEIGHBORHOOD WHEN I RAN INTO YOU.” An idea suddenly struck him. “WHY, WOULD YOU LIKE TO GO BACK TO THE HOUSE WITH ME?”

“You bet your ass I do! Your place is always soooooo fun!” you gushed.

“PERFECT. COME ON THEN, DEAR.” He held out his hand. You eagerly took it, and Lucky strolled around a corner with you, shortcutting you back to the skeletons’ home. This time, Lucky hoped, he could convince you to stay.

The two of you reappeared inside his home, and you were almost immediately noticed by the others. “darlin’!” Hound gasped. “what are ya doin’ here?”

“Lucky invited me!” you explained cheerfully. You half stumbled to the couch and inserted yourself in between Hound and Butch, who were watching some old show together. Lucky’s face contorted into a hateful glare. Thankfully, you were too busy trying to figure out how your legs worked. “I just broke up with my boyfriend…”

Butch’s eyes lit up, and Hound looked over at Lucky in surprise. He raised an eyebrow, silently asking the obvious question. Lucky just shook his head. He didn’t have anything to do with it. You did that yourself.

“sorry to hear that, doll,” Butch said, voice not sounding sorry at all. “that mean you’re back on the market?~” As he spoke, he playfully trailed his hand up your inner thigh. You smacked it away, laughing.

“Not right now, I want to watch this with you guys!” You pointed at the show. Lucky didn’t recognize the program, but it seemed to feature several old women sassing each other.

Butch’s face fell, but he relented. All the better for him, Lucky thought. If Butch got to touch you before Lucky did, he would have to cut off Butch’s hand.

“DO YOU WANT TO STAY FOR DINNER?” Lucky asked. “I THINK NOIR IS IN CHARGE TODAY.”

Your stomach growled, and you nodded eagerly. “Yes please! I’m starving!”

“EXCELLENT! I BELIEVE IT WILL BE READY SOON.”

You nodded, quickly arranging yourself so that your head was on Hound’s lap and your legs draped across Butch’s. Both of them seemed thrilled by this unusually cuddly version of you. Lucky tried to stop himself from seething in jealousy. Sadly, there was no room for him to sit now, so he forced himself to not shove Butch out of the way and take his place. It’s okay, once you were his, he would be in that spot.

Butch gave Lucky a shit eating grin as he started running his claws up and down your soft legs. Not as suggestive as before, just relishing in the feel of your skin. Once again, it took all of Lucky’s self control to not snap right there.

“I’M GOING TO BE UPSTAIRS UNTIL DINNER,” Lucky half growled. He strode quickly out of the room. As he rounded the corner to the stairs, he almost ran into someone for the second time today.

“woah, bro, where are you going in such a hurry?” Oh thank the stars, it was Slim. “you okay? you seem ticked off.”

“YES, I…” He looked behind him. “Actually, Let’s Talk In Private.”

Slim nodded, and Lucky led him back to his room. Slim sighed at the state of Lucky’s room. It was messy as usual, but Lucky could find everything. Just because nobody else understood his system doesn’t mean it’s not organized! “i don’t know how you live like this.”

“HUSH, THAT’S NOT IMPORTANT! WHAT IS IMPORTANT IS THAT…” Lucky paused for dramatic effect. “Our Human Is Newly Single.”

Slim’s eyes widened. “holy shit.”

“YES. THEY’RE STAYING FOR DINNER, BUT THE BEST PART IS THAT THEY ARE HIGH. THIS MEANS THAT THEY ARE MUCH MORE SUSCEPTIBLE.”

“we can finally get ‘em to move in,” Slim gasped.

“YES. DURING DINNER, WE NEED TO TRY OUR BEST TO GET THEM TO STAY. IF THAT FAILS, I HAVE THIS.” He pulled the blue vial out of his pocket. “I GOT THIS FROM THIS WORLD’S ALPHYS. IF THEY’RE NOT GOING FOR IT, I’LL SLIP THIS INTO THEIR FOOD, AND THEY’LL BE OUT LIKE A LIGHT. THEN, WE CAN TRY AGAIN IN THE MORNING. YOU CAN EVEN GET THEM HIGH AGAIN TO HELP CONVINCE THEM!”

“i dunno how i feel about that,” Slim muttered. “i mean, i don’t want to use weed to make them love us. that feels shitty.”

“THEY ALREADY LOVE US,” Lucky pointed out. “THEY JUST NEED WEED TO HELP THEM REALIZE IT!”

“still feels wrong…”

“IT’S ONLY A LAST RESORT,” Lucky pointed out. “IF ALL GOES WELL, WE DON’T NEED TO USE MY PLAN.” He gave his brother a joking smile. “PLUS, YOUR IDEAS HAD WAY MORE MURDER THAN MY PLANS.”

Slim rolled his eyes, unable to keep the smile off his face. “yeah, yeah. i’m not actually hurting them though, just their shitty boyfriend. or, ex-boyfriend.” His smile grew. “this might actually work.”

“THANK YOU!”

“at least it’s better than sans’s plan.”

“THE BOX ON THE STICK?”

“nyeh heh heh, yeah! this isn’t fuckin’ looney tunes,” Slim laughed.

The two of them left Lucky’s room, feeling hopeful about their chances with you. After all, they could take care of you much better than your ex-boyfriend could.

--------------------------------

Within an hour, all nine of you were around the dinner table. Noir had cooked some curry, and it actually looked pretty good. Some of the meat was a bit scorched, but overall, it was much better than when he had first come to this universe. Lucky couldn’t keep his eyes off you as you practically inhaled your food. You really were hungry. He had heard of the munchies before, but it seemed you had it to the extreme. Papyrus piled some more food onto your plate, and you smiled at him gratefully.

After a few minutes of eating, Lucky finally spoke up. “SO Y/N,” he said as casually as he could muster. “I’M SORRY ABOUT YOUR BREAKUP.”

Immediately, the table went silent. They all turned to you, identical expressions of shock and excitement on their faces. Lucky was grateful that you were both oblivious and high so you didn’t suspect anything.

“Yeah,” you mumbled between forkfuls of rice. “I broke up with him.” You were frowning, but quickly replaced it with a smile. “He was kind of a jerk.”

“REALLY?” Papyrus asked gently. “HE SEEMED SO….NICE.”

“He was…at first. Then he started just…I dunno.” You sighed. “I’d ask him to do things, not even hard things, but he wouldn’t. Sometimes it was like I wasn’t even there.” You picked at your plate, appetite seemingly gone. “He’d tell me that he loved me, but he never showed it. Then when I got frustrated at him he’d act like I was the problem, you know? I kept trying to understand, but it just got to be too much.” You seemed to realize you had been talking for a while and shoved some more food into your mouth. “So yeah, dropped his dead weight!” You laughed. “I deserve someone who treats me right!”

“you sure do, darlin’,” Hound smiled. While you were facing Hound you didn’t notice Sans and Papyrus high fiving under the table. “you deserve someone who treats ya like royalty.”

“Ha! You guys are so nice you make me feel like royalty!” you laughed.

Now was his chance. Lucky spoke up again. “YES! WE COULD TREAT YOU LIKE THIS EVERY DAY!” he grinned, pretending to be joking.

“Pfft, come on, I can’t come over to your place every day!” you laughed. “You’d get sick of me!”

“we’d never get sick of ya, honey,” Slim interjected. He gave a small smile. “you could come over every day…or even just stay here.”

Finally, it seemed to click in the rest of the skeletons. “YES! YOU COULD STAY HERE,” Noir said, leaning forward. “I COULD USE SOMEONE WHO APPRECIATES MY CULINARY MASTERPIECES!”

“it’d be great to always have ya around, starlight,” Sans smiled. “we’re always so much happier when you’re here.”

You blushed. “Oh come on, there’s no way-”

Scar reached across the table and put his hand over yours. “I KNOW I DON’T ALWAYS SAY HOW I FEEL, BUT I WOULD BE OVERJOYED IF YOU LIVED WITH US,” he said bluntly. “DON’T TRY TO ARGUE WITH ME. YOU ARE A JOY TO HAVE HERE.”

That really seemed to get you, and you covered your face with your hands. “I-I mean…it’s so sudden, I can’t just pick up and move.”

“WHY?” Lucky asked.

“...I dunno,” you admitted. “I guess it would be nice to be around you guys…and have a change of scenery…and be around people who actually listen to me…” It seemed like you were doing the job of convincing you better than the skeletons were. “Fuck it, why not.”

“YOU MEAN IT?” Lucky asked. “YOU’LL LIVE WITH US?”

“Sure!”

Immediately, all of the skeletons erupted into cheers. You seemed shocked by the reception. “Jeez, I didn’t know you all liked me so much!”

Lucky laughed silently to himself. Sweet thing, you had no idea. “OF COURSE WE DO! YOU’RE OUR FRIEND, AFTER ALL,” he said.

Later that evening, you, Slim, and Lucky ended up on the couch together watching a movie. You had agreed to stay the night as a sort of “trial run.” You had fallen asleep much faster than either of them had expected, and your head lolled onto Lucky’s shoulder. You were pressed in between the two skeletons, and your body heat was heavenly.

“i can’t believe they said yes,” Slim whispered. He carded his phalanges through your hair. “i really thought it’d take more convincing.”

“Me Too,” Lucky admitted. “I’m Glad It Didn’t Come To That, Though.”

“yeah.” Slim smiled. “wish we’d have known. could’ve gotten them high way earlier than this.”

“I Thought You Didn’t Want To Use Weed To Convince Them,” he said teasingly.

“yeah, well, ya can’t argue with the results,” Slim chuckled. He gently tucked some hair behind your ear. “i mean, we got ‘em here with us.”

“We Certainly Do.” Lucky looked down at you. You looked so peaceful, so relaxed. He was right, no pictures could ever compare to the real you. And now, he’d have unfiltered access, whenever he wanted.

He had dreamed of having you all to himself, but…he had to admit that you, him, and his brother made a pretty great family. If he had to deal with the other skeletons for now, he could live with that. You would soon realize that he and his brother were the only ones for you.

Until then, this was pretty damn perfect.

#my garbage #writing #sans x reader #papyrus x reader #mafiatale #mafiaswap #mafiafell #mafiaswapfell #commissions #commission

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gaytedlasso · 2 years

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Divinity lives within my skin and my love,

I am blessed that you let me worship at the altar of your lips

“Please,” he says, “I need something more.”

More than life? I ask. Than pleasure?

“Yes,” he says, with clasped hands on bent knees,

“I need you”

He spills whiskey into his stomach, smoke into his lungs. He spill blood, his own and others’.

But he does not spill one drop of us, tongue chasing fingers so that he may take what is left of my body from my hand.

- poem by Kath @caskarass

Stolen moments of holy intimacy between Dean and Castiel

Their mutual worship knows no bounds.

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opens-up-4-nobody · 9 months

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...

#tfw ur life has been so busy that u forgot that with a new school u have a new email to keep track of #and u forgot to hook it up to ur outlook so now u open it up and see emails from abt a month ago #telling u to do TA orientation stuff. uuuuuh oops #so i guess i have some bullshit to figure out tomorrow. also i should finalize my class sign up staff #stuff* bc when i was doing yhat my brain was on fire. also i should email my new boss. oh god. why didnt i check that email????#i dont even kno if im supposed to b a TA this semester??? i should just email the guy but also i dont wanna roll up like yo #im already damaged goods bc ive suffered a whole year in a state of burnout. also i fucked up my sign up process by not paying attention #but uh hi hello nice to meed u again for the 2nd time in my life. this is definitely not a bad omen for things to come #ugh. why have i done this to myself? i cant even call to try to fix anything until Monday. fuck.#but i mean. i cant b thr only one who's ever done this. so maybe itll b fine? hopefully?#but i wouldn't have this problem if id just fucking looked at my fucking email in the 1st place #i can already feel it. this is where the overlap starts. the overlap between my old lab and my new lab #will it tear me into pieces? perhaps. i have to shift into go mode. i cant b a sad sack anymore #ugh. im usually really good at being on top of stuff like this bc im such an anxious freak but here we r...#unrelated

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paleciity · 2 years

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// Considering making a multimuse and just moving Mono over there-

#[ooc] crown equipped #// been thinking about this for a MINUTE now and it just seems like the easiest course of action yknow?#// ESP bc im gonna be going to college in a few months here and will be busy as HELL #// course if i do this its not gonna be an immediate future thing this is probably still a WAYS off--#// cuz uh hi! hello!! sorry for the silence!!#// havent been terribly focused on writing lately! brain has been wanting to do Other Things #// and dear lord can my focus get sucked down different rabbit holes like nobody's business jfc #// i still think about tumblr rp from time to time i just dont have the drive for it rn yknow?#// dw dw this happens its a cycle- i'll always come back eventually #// not always with the same muses but #// jazz hands at the multimuse idea #// i got Plans to help keep mono afloat JHFHDSJHJ #// also just so yall know- if i DO make the multi its gonna feature videogame muses specifially #// so *everyone* from this blog would be there plus like. MAYBE maybe a couple loz muses and probably ingo and emmet from pokemon bw #// we'll see!#// anyways hope yall are good lmao

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prythianpages · 3 months

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I've Been Waiting For You | Azriel

summary: Azriel finally meets the one he's been longing for. His mate.

warnings: mentions of death (since the suriel & reader are friends); some angst but also fluff because Az deserves to be happy ♡

a/n: This is part of my ABBA x ACOTAR series (masterlist) where I dedicate a song to a character (: The lyrics kind of reminded me of Alice & Jasper from twilight and how she had a vision of meeting him. This does go back and forth a lot in the beginning between past and present and came out longer than I thought it would. It's 9.6K words (which for me is long lol.) I apologize if there are any spelling errors. I've read this multiple times but somehow, always miss a couple.

As the moonlight dances upon the water's surface, the river transforms into a liquid ribbon of silver, weaving through the city of Starlight. Anticipation fills the air as Azriel walks across the bridge that spans the Sidra, his massive Illyrian wings glistening in midnight hues under the pale moonlight.

Shadows play hide-and-seek as they travel through the night, drawn to the silhouette of a female figure. An intruder. Yet, Azriel's shadows dare to whisper something different into his ears.

“I’ve been waiting for you.”

Your voice, carried by the wind, reaches him like a sweet caress, daring to awaken something deep within him. Beautiful. His shadows respond with a frenzy, a whirl of darkness singing wild tales into his ears, urging him forward. Meanwhile, his brain screams at the potential threat.

More tendrils of darkness dart toward you, ignoring their master’s orders to return. You don’t seem bothered by them. In fact, you seem to welcome them as if they’re old friends of yours.

Azriel swallows, uncertainty flickering in his eyes, unsure what to make of this.

“Who are you?”

Finally, you turn around and Azriel feels like the wind has been knocked out of him when his gaze meets yours. In the midst of the surrounding darkness, your eyes gleam with an inexplicable brightness. Specs of silver glimmer in your eyes, mirroring the stars above, as they shine back at him.

“That’s for you to decide,” you reply with a smile that carries both hope and a sense of knowing as you follow after him and take a step forward.

“But for now, I’d like to speak with your High Lady.”

Months before…

The brilliance of a thousand stars shine down on you and the night seems to hold its breath, as if it too, awaits the whispered prophecies from the celestial expanse above. Like always, you are itching to unveil them with your finely attuned senses. A gust of cool wind brushes through your hair, sending shivers down your exposed skin. Pulling your gaze away from the night sky, you turn in time to see a cloaked figure approaching like a shadow in the night.

Your lips curve into a smile. “Hello, friend.”

“y/n.” The Suriel greets you, hovering beside you. Then, not missing another beat, he says, “I told her Rhysand was her mate.”

Your eyes widen in surprise, a gasp escaping your lips. “You did not.”

“I did.” He grins back at you, flashing you his stained teeth.

You can’t help but laugh a little at your dear old friend. The Suriel lets out a rattled sound you discern as a laugh as he joins you. Always the one for dramatics. You still remember hearing about his first encounter with Feyre Archeron and how he told her to stay with the High Lord.

“I told her she must stay with the High Lord.”

“Did you specify which one?”

“Where’s the fun in that?”

“I’m sure she handled it well,” you respond but your smile fades, giving way to a wistful expression. “She’s lucky. Not only is she made but the Cauldron has blessed her with a mate. The High Lord of the Night Court at that.”

The weight of his gaze settles upon you. You’re aware that your words carry a tinge of envy, a sentiment that feels unjust when considering everything Feyre has endured. The Suriel, ever perceptive, acknowledges this as well. He chooses not to remind you and indulges you instead.

“The Cauldron has blessed you as well, my child.”

“Have you seen it?”

Hope sparks in your eyes as you turn to face him. His eyes, pools of ancient wisdom, seem to pierce through the veils of time and secrets. You sense one of them unfolding. But he only gives you a teasing glimpse.

“Perhaps.”

With a furrow in your brows, you lift your head back up to glare at the night sky. The stars seem to blink at you in a teasing manner, as if finding amusement in keeping this secret from you.

“How come I haven’t seen it?”

“You will soon.” He reassures, following your gaze upwards. A dance of amusement swirls within the depths of his eyes. “He’s waited centuries for you. Count your stars lucky that your waiting won’t be as long.”

Back to the present…

Velaris lived up to its name. A dream compared to the horrors of the city you grew up in. But as the city sparkles and comes to life at the darkening hour, all your attention is drawn to the male before you. He’s even more breathtaking in person. Everything about him is classically beautiful and the moon seems to agree, shining down on him and casting an ethereal glow on the golden-brown of his skin.

As Azriel continues to approach you, his wings fold gracefully behind him. His gaze is locked onto yours and though his eyes are cautious and analytical, there’s a warm shiver running down your spine. The desire to lose yourself in the hazel depths of his eyes becomes an irresistible pull.

Before you know it, the shadows brushing against your arms rise and come to rest against your eyes in a blindfold. Darkness engulfs you, and the sensation of weightlessness takes hold as Azriel winnows both of you. You land on a soft cushion–a chair. The dark tendrils leave your eyes and wrap around your wrists and legs, binding them together.

“Stay here.” Azriel says, the shadows wrapped around your limbs tightening in a silent warning.

A chuckle escapes from you and when your eyes meet his again, you flash him a mischievous smile. It widens when he’s the first to fold, quickly averting his gaze. He has no clue. You’re exactly where you want to be.

He leaves the room and your eyes finally take in your surroundings. Veiled curtains made of midnight blue silk drape the expansive windows, pulled back to allow moonlight to filter through. Shelves line the walls, housing collections of ancient artifacts and magical trinkets. A large desk, crafted from dark, polished wood rests before you. Your gaze fixates on the wall behind it, where a captivating portrait of the female you seek rests.

The door behind you swings open, and you turn to witness the graceful entrance of the female from the portrait. Feyre, the Cursebreaker and High Lady of the Night Court. She's a vision of night and beauty, her golden-brown hair cascading down her exposed back, revealing glimpses of moon phases etched along her spine.

“High Lady,” you say in greeting, bowing your head in respect.

Surprisingly, the High Lord doesn't accompany her. Instead, it's Azriel who trails behind her. Her calm blue eyes assess you as she takes a seat across from you. Azriel stands guard behind her and you feel his shadows watching your every breath.

"And who might you be?"

“I’m y/n,” you respond, choosing your next words carefully. “An old friend of the Suriel’s. I’ve come to pledge my allegiance to you and offer my help.”

Something flickers in her blue eyes at the mention of the Suriel and her stoic expression falters, if only for a moment. You send her a sympathetic smile, your own heart aching at the mention of the fearsome creature you both held dear.

“Your help?” She echoes.

"She’s a seer," Azriel interjects, his voice setting your heart alight as there's no hint of disgust or apprehension in his tone.

Your kind is often regarded with hostility. He might not know your connection...yet. But he’s paid you enough attention to recognize your abilities and appears to be indifferent about them. If the Suriel were still alive, you know he’d laugh at your slight delusion.

"I am," you confirm. "And I know your sister is one too." You don’t miss the tension in Azriel’s body at the mention of the cauldron-made fae, but you don't dwell on it as you can also sense Feyre's protectiveness. "She has great potential. I can help her hone her skills. Together, we can—"

"No," Azriel growls protectively. His sharp interruption has you startling in your seat and hope deflates as you feel the intensity of his glare.

Feyre raises a hand, signaling him to stand back. “Why should I trust you?”

“Let me show you.”

Months before…

“By the Cauldron, what did you get yourself into?”

The Suriel grins mischievously, his tattered cloak barely clinging to his bony form. He graciously accepts the cloak you offer, a luxurious piece made of the softest velvet in the darkest shade of black you could find. A purr escapes him as he revels in its warmth. "Nothing," he responds coyly, the satisfaction evident in the bounce of his form as he hovers in the air.

You shoot him a pointed look, yearning to know what he was up to. You’re certain it was no good. “Sure,” you retort and then gesture toward the crackling fire you started. “I also made dinner.”

“You spoil me.”

“It’s what friends do.”

"Friend," he muses, the white pools of his eyes burning into your soul, as he turns to you. "As a friend, I should tell you that your dress is absolutely atrocious on you. Cobalt blue is more your color."

With a glare, you playfully throw the roasted chicken over the fire at his face. He effortlessly catches it with his mouth, cackling as he chews on the tender piece of meat.

"What do you know about fashion? All you do is thirst for robes."

“You forget that I am older than the bones of this world. I know everything about everything. I also cannot lie.”

"Doesn't stop you from hiding the truth," you respond cheekily, and he hums in agreement,

Silence falls as he seats himself beside you on the ground. He breaks it a couple of moments later. “Remember what I told you last time?”

You release a deep sigh because you do remember. The mere thought haunts you nearly every night, and you’re often burdened by the heavy weight of it. Your shoulders slump in response. “Why can't you do it yourself?”

“It is your fate, not mine,” he states simply, a reminder of the immutable laws of destiny.

“I’m not ready.”

You don’t think you ever will be and suddenly, you’re that fragile sixteen year old again, who had to run away from the only place you called home to escape a cruel fate. The one who was left to navigate through her new onset of divine abilities alone.

That is, until, the fateful night you had thrown your cloak over a tree branch to dry. It had been stained by blood after a rough and almost deadly encounter with a stray naga so you had spent all morning cleaning it in the river nearby. Completely unaware of the Suriel you were summoning.

“You do not fear me?”

“That is mine,” you had said through clenched teeth with a deep rooted glare.

In the midst of your tug of war with the Suriel, your cloak tore in half. In that moment, you braced yourself for the dark creature's wrath. However, something in you captured his attention that day, and he chose not to unleash his fury upon you. He decided to take you under his wing instead.

He recognized your lineage without a single word spoken about it. He could sense your power coursing through your veins, waiting to be unraveled. After decades of patience and practicing, he was there to witness the formation of stars weaving themselves into the depths of your eyes. The mark of your seer abilities.

As always, the Suriel reads you like an open book. He can sense your insecurity, your hesitancy. But, in equal measure, he can sense your power, your potential.

“You will be,” he insists, his words carrying the unwavering certainty of the all-knowing creature he is. “You must guide and open the eyes of Elain Archeron the same way I did for you.”

Your throat tightens. “When?”

“Soon.”

And when you look up to gaze at the night sky, the stars align for you. A cascade of visions unfurls, pouring over you like a celestial waterfall. Your eyes become a myriad of galaxies and ears are teased with glimpses of conversations and whispers from the stars above. One moment, you’re in a forest, standing before a female figure crouched over a cloaked one.

“The tracking…I knew of it.”

Then, a rattling breath. “Leave this world a better place than how you found it.”

Abruptly, the scene shifts, and you stand in an enchanting city of starlight, gazing at the expansive river before you as anticipation fills the air. He comes for you. Azriel, the shadowsinger. The name resonates in the echoes of your mind.

Then, the final vision envelopes you, drawing you into the depths of mesmerizing hazel eyes. The voice that accompanies it is carried by the enchantment of night, gently caressing against your ears.

“I’ve been waiting for you.”

Mate. That is your mate. Azriel, the–

“Do you see it now?”

With a sharp intake of breath, you’re pulled from the downpour of your visions, only to find your senses clouded with tears that pool at the corners of your eyes. How cruel, you think, your heart twisting in agony. And though meeting your mate–your fated companion–was among your greatest dreams, you no longer want it. Not if it means you’ll lose your greatest companion.

You can live without knowing your mate. After all, you’re doing so at this very moment. The Suriel has been your friend for decades. Two souls brought together by their mutual loneliness. An all knowing creature and a seer. Together, you’re a powerful duo, navigating through the fated intricacies of Prythian. You’d be lost without him.

“Please don’t go,” you’re begging.

The Suriel smiles but it’s not his usual mischievous grin. This time, a tinge of sorrow lingers in the curve of his lips, casting his expression in a veil of sadness.

“I have to. It’s my time to go,” he says. “Just promise me one thing?”

“Anything.”

“That when it’s your time to shine, you’ll find Feyre. Help her make this world a better place.”

Back to Present

Feyre blinks back tears as she withdraws from your mind. She turns her head toward the Shadowsinger behind her, and for a moment, fear grips you. You allowed her to see the revelation of Azriel being your mate but only because it was deeply entwined with the other pertinent visions.

“Release her.”

The shadows release their grip on you and you let out a deep exhale in relief. But the inky tendrils don’t leave your side. They linger and hover over you and at this, Azriel’s eyebrows furrow.

Feyre extends her hand out toward you. Her blue eyes are warm, a gentle reassurance that she’d harbor your secret for you. A smile graces her lips, one that you're happy to reciprocate.

“I’ll gladly accept your help but let me speak with Elain first. You may stay here. There’s a spare room upstairs. Azriel will show you around.”

Following his High Lady’s orders, Azriel shows you around the grand estate. He’s a bit reserved around you and you don’t blame him. Both a blessing and a curse, your visions offer insight into his world, yet you're a mere stranger imposing on the family he protects fiercely.

And as he finally shows you to your room, the one right next to his, you can only hope that someday, he’ll welcome you too. After all, he is your mate.

Elain Archeron is infinitely beautiful. Inside and out. She is gentle and sweet and you see why some mistake her kindness for weakness. But it took only days for you to become well aware of the strength and power she harbors deep within.

While your abilities were limited to what the stars wanted to show you, you sensed that hers were limitless. With the right training, she could summon visions at her call, anticipate anyone's move. You wanted to help her achieve that and prove those people that saw her as something fragile wrong. Though reluctant toward your help at first, Elain was kind enough to listen to you and consider the advice you gave. It took some further convincing but you knew she was itching to unravel the depths of her powers too.

But it's proving to be a challenge. A hard and exhausting one. You're not surprised. It took you many years to become attuned to your powers. What is surprising, however, are Azriel's feelings for her. They're obvious and plain to see and could you blame him? Elain is wonderful...and you can't help but compare yourself to her. She's everything you're not.

Upon your arrival, you had been set on making Azriel fall for you. That was, until, you realized he was already entangled in the threads of another's heart. Could it be that the Suriel, in his all knowing wisdom, purposefully shielded you from such revelations about your mate? To delay the shattering of your dreams?

Now, you were just content to focus on your task at hand. To help Elain the way the Suriel did with you, even if Azriel was there as a safety net for her every session. Even if the way he was well attuned to every shift of her expression sent a sharp pain stabbing through your heart. He was blissfully unaware of your connection, clouded by his affection for Elain.

And you were tired of chasing after males. It's why you shot down Feyre's suggestion of confessing to Azriel. You dreamed of having a mate, pleaded to the Cauldron even. Now, you realize, that you want Azriel to like you for you. To chose you too the way Feyre did with Rhysand. If Elain was the person he chose at the moment, then so be it.

"I don't chase. I attract," you told Feyre. The same words you had uttered to the Suriel years ago after he poked fun at you over a failed romance. One of many, unfortunately.

"The only thing you'll attract with that attitude of of yours is a dark cloud of shadows," The Suriel had laughed at you, earning an icy glare from you.

But Feyre is much nicer about it than your dear old friend. She gives you an encouraging smile instead and wishes you luck on your upcoming session with Elain.

Your session with Elain ends terribly–with her screaming in pain and Azriel glaring at you and telling you to go, despite your attempts at apologizing. You spend the following days, weeks even, trying to make up for it. You slowed down in pace in your exercises with Elain, despite her protests. She held no animosity toward you at the dark turn that session had made.

You also buried yourself into any book you could find about seers in the magnificent Night Court library, grieving and longing for the Suriel. He would know what to do, and know exactly how to help. It’s the mere thought of him that fuels your determination to keep trying, despite how much you want to leave. It’s laughable almost, how in the midst of so many people, the sense of loneliness weighs heavier on you than it ever did in the solitude of Prythian's forests.

But perhaps, a break wouldn't be such a bad idea? You think as your gaze lands on an intriguing cover. It's a work of pure fiction. The ideal escape from reality. Retrieving it from its shelf, you settle into one of the plush chairs and immerse yourself into the words etched onto the pages.

“Wake up, sleeping beauty.”

A nudge against your leg startles you awake, and as you blink away the remnants of sleep, your eyes widen at the sight of Azriel standing before you. Sleeping beauty, the words sink in, painting a soft blush over your cheeks.

“You missed dinner.”

“Oh.”

You turn your head, wincing at the dull ache in your neck from sleeping in an awkward position. The soft glow of the moon greets you through one of the library's windows. You don’t know when you had fallen asleep but you must’ve been out for hours. When you face Azriel again, your gaze drops to his hands, where he holds a carefully arranged plate of food. Your stomach growls as the scent hits you and your eyes linger on the generous serving of potatoes–your favorite–in comparison to the other vegetables and meat.

“Is that for me?” you ask, and immediately curse yourself for the seemingly silly question. You blame it on the lingering grasp of sleep, still reluctant to release its full grip on you.

"No, it's for the rats that come out at night," he replies, lips twitching upwards at the reaction it stirs from you. How the Suriel never scared you but a couple of hairy, smaller creatures do is beyond you. He places the plate on the small table beside you.

"Yes, it's for you. A peace offering. For snapping at you."

"That was two weeks ago.”

"Bet you didn't see it coming," he teases, and you find yourself blinking in surprise. The Shadowsinger cracking a joke? It's a sight to behold. At least for you.

Your eyes narrow. "Did Feyre send you?"

"No," Azriel replies simply, his tone carrying a sincerity that sets a flicker of hope alight in you. He then sighs. "I just realized I haven't been the most welcoming, that's all."

You smile in response and shift in your seat as you turn your body towards the food. The movement has the book in your lap falling. His hand reaches the book before yours could and the brush of your skin against his sends a delightful shudder through your body.

His eyes curiously look over the title and when he hands it back to you, you take note of the way he avoids looking at his scarred fingers. So you reach forward and brush your fingers against his again, letting them linger for a beat longer than before. Surprise flickers in his hazel eyes as he meets your gaze, but it vanishes as quickly as it appears.

“That book is one of my favorites," he says, his shadows dancing across his shoulders and peeking curiously at you. "I'm surprised you're into the mystery genre."

"Why?"

“Well, you’re hard to read sometimes. Like a mystery that refuses to be solved.”

An arched brow is your response, but the gleam in your eyes gives away more than you'd like. “Maybe I don’t want to be unraveled.”

Azriel's lips twitch upwards once more. “Maybe it just takes the right person.”

Bathed in the glow of sunlight, you and Elain sit across from one another on the soft bed of green grass. Meanwhile, Azriel leans against a tree, a couple of feet away. His gaze is intense as he watches you two. Too focused on not letting it faze you, you fail to catch the way it softens when he turns to you.

Azriel can’t help but frown when he catches you avoiding his gaze. He wonders if you still harbor some resentment toward the way he had snapped at you awhile back, even though he already apologized for it.

"Close your eyes and focus on your breath," he hears you instruct softly. "Feel the rhythm of the earth beneath you. Attune yourself to the heartbeat of the world around you. What do you hear?”

Elain closes her eyes in deep concentration. “I can hear the wind and the tremble of the grass beneath it. I can hear the wind carry all the way to the sea.”

“Good,” you say and though her eyes remain closed, you smile gently at her. A gesture that sends a rush of warmth through him.

“Now feel the whispers of the unseen.”

“I can’t.” Elain’s eyebrows furrow.

“Here, take my hands,” you say as you reach for hers. “Imagine a pool of water within you, calm and reflective. Use me as a vessel to carry you through it. I’ll guide you to where your visions will manifest.”

Elain does as told. The world stills around you two. You close your eyes. As Elain’s eyebrows relax, your own face contorts in concentration. Azriel feels himself tense when he realizes it’s not concentration etching onto your face–it’s pain. In a heartbeat, he’s kneeling before you and prying your hands apart.

“Stop!”

Your eyes snap open at the sudden disconnection, and Azriel is unsettled by the way you shrink back from him, panic widening your eyes.

“I’m not hurting her!”

But it’s not Elain he’s worried about. He hasn’t even spared her a glance. It’s you–you’re the one that’s hurt. Blood trickles down your nose and he’s urging you to lean forward, gently guiding you with his hands as Elain rushes for a towel.

“Are you okay?”

There’s a dull ache in your head but also one in your heart and you’re too disoriented to stop yourself from saying, “If you stop staring at me like that, I will be.”

Azriel releases a soft chuckle, his muscles relaxing in relief at the playful edge in your tone. Yet, his shadows, wanting to confirm you're okay themselves, flutter toward you in a delicate cloud of darkness.

"Like what?”

“Don’t make me answer that.”

And you’ve never felt more relief at the sight of Elain coming in between you with a towel in hand.

A sudden sound has you stirring from your sleep. Your hand instinctively slides under your pillow, fingers grasping for the dagger you always keep with you when sleeping. The sound comes again and your initially alarmed body relaxes as you recognize it as the sound of someone knocking. Wrapping a robe around your night shift, you head toward the door, expecting Elain on the other side.

Upon opening your door, you’re surprised to find Azriel standing on the other side.

“You’re not going to Starfall?”

“Good morning to you too.”

Azriel’s eyes rake over your form, taking in your disheveled state. His lips curl into a faint smile. "It's noon," he observes in an amused manner.

Your eyes widen in disbelief, and you pivot your head toward the clock that hangs on the wall of your room. There, confirming his statement, the hands point a half hour past twelve. You overslept. You didn’t have any plans today and it seems your exhausted body took advantage of it.

“Is everything okay?”

His voice, laced with genuine concern, draws your attention back to him. The soft furrow of his brow and the warmth in his eyes catch you off guard. You hesitate. You don’t want to lie but you also don’t want to burden him with the truth.

So you settle for a, “Why?”

"I've noticed you haven't been sleeping much," he remarks, and before you can interrupt, he gestures toward his room, the one adjacent to yours. A silent acknowledgment that he's been more attentive than you realized. It pulls at the strings of your heart. "Or attending family dinners, and now Feyre tells me you're not going to Starfall?"

The weight of his observations presses on you. You didn’t think anyone had noticed. "Why do you care?" you retort, your words sharper than intended, and a wince follows.

"Isolation is not a good coping method," he responds, his tone steady and unfazed by your sharpness. "Trust me, I know."

"I don't have a dress." The words escape your lips, but even as you say them, you recognize the feebleness of the excuse.

“I’ll buy you one.”

Heat rises to your cheeks, and you feel a telltale blush spreading as the thought of Azriel buying you a dress takes root. He’s just being nice, you tell yourself. His gaze remains fixed on you, hazel eyes bright and gleaming with curiosity, as if daring you to come up with another excuse.

“Starfall is tomorrow.”

Azriel grins at you. It sends a flutter through your heart and you wonder if he can hear the erratic beat of it.

“Better make haste and get dressed then. We’ve got a couple of hours before the shops close.”

You deliberately take extra time getting ready, a mix of anticipation and apprehension swirling within you as you prepare to spend time with Azriel. Half-expecting a hint of annoyance, you finally open the door to your room, only to find Azriel with a welcoming smile that has the bond in your chest humming. Still, you're met with silence at the other side.

You take a deep breath as he gestures for you to follow him. As you step outside, he offers his arm and winnows you, not wanting to waste anymore time. You both find yourselves in the bustling shopping plaza of Velaris, where the fragrance of blooming flowers and the animated chatter of people embrace you.

Elaborate Starfall-themed displays adorn the shops, enticing you inside. Suddenly, the sheer array overwhelms you, and an urge to step back washes over you. Azriel place a hand on your back, stopping you and guiding you towards one of the shops.

“Welcome!” A voice happily chirps. “How can I help you?”

A stunning female enters your line of sight, her gaze immediately fixating on the male standing behind you. Her lips curve into a captivating smile, causing a twinge of jealousy to flicker within you. It’s short lived as Azriel clears his throat, gently nudging you forward.

“We’re looking for a dress for her.” Azriel speaks for you.

“Splendid! What’s the special occasion?”

“Starfall.” Azriel answers.

The female’s eyes widen, her smile morphing into a strained one. “I’m afraid I’ve sold all my best work already.”

“Oh, that’s alright. Sorry for the trouble,” you quickly reply, attempting to conceal the relief in your voice. Turning to leave, Azriel's hands land on your shoulders, directing you back to face the female.

“I’m sure we can find something in here,” Azriel reassures with a polite smile, scanning the aisles of dresses. “Y/n isn't picky. Right?”

“I can be,” you mumble under your breath.

Azriel lets out a sound, what you discern as a muffled chuckle. He gives your shoulder a squeeze and then leans down toward your ear. “If I were you, I’d take advantage of the situation.”

You turn your head slightly and regret it immediately. It takes all your strength to hold back the shudder your body wants to give at his proximity. He’s so close you can feel his breath fanning against your neck and you wonder what it would feel like to have his lips pressed against that sensitive skin.

It surprises you how quickly you find your voice.

“I’m going to pick the most expensive one.”

“Go ahead,” Azriel says and you can hear the smirk in his voice without having to look at him. He doesn’t allow you to get another word in, urging you forward again to where the female patiently awaits for you.

She lightly grasps your arm, leading you toward a rack of dresses in various styles and colors while Azriel makes himself comfortable on the couch by the fitting room. “You are a lucky lady,” she muses, her hands gracefully exploring the textures of her creations. “I’ve had this shop for centuries and you’re the first lady the Shadowsinger has brought to me.”

A blush warms your cheeks as you divert your attention to the array of beautiful dresses. Each one is a work of art, making you question her earlier claim about not having her best work available. If these weren't her finest creations, the thought of what her best work looked like leaves you intrigued.

The female, who’s name you learn is Willow, has you try on a couple of dresses that differ in styles. You’re reluctant to show Azriel each one but given he’s paying for it and the only other one in this shop, you feel like he should have some say.

“Do you like it?” Willow beams at you, admiring her work.

On the fifth dress, your hands run over the tulle of the vibrant yellow skirt. The fabric feels itchy against your skin, and the color is too bold for your taste. You swear you are not trying to be picky, despite what you told Azriel earlier.

“I li–”

“Let’s try another?” Azriel cuts in as if sensing the lie that was about to unfold. He rises from his seat toward one of the racks and pulls out a dress that caught his eye earlier. “How about this one?”

He holds the dress out to you, smiling softly when you take it from him. It’s much simpler compared to the other dress you’ve tried on but still just as elegant. It’s also soft against your skin. Willow guides you back into the fitting room, deftly assisting you out of the vivid yellow dress and into the cobalt blue silk one.

“I don’t know how I didn’t see it before. Cobalt blue is more your color!" Willow says as she gushes over you.

Her choice of words leaves you momentarily stunned. Cobalt blue is more your color. The exact words the Suriel had spoken to you. Also, the exact same shade as Azriel's siphons. The Suriel must’ve enjoyed himself a lot when he said those words to you. That sneaky little creature... You can hear his laugh echoing through your mind.

As you finally emerge from the dressing room, Azriel can’t help but stare. The fabric drapes gracefully around you, accentuating curves he hadn't noticed before. Sensing his prolonged gaze, your eyes meet his. It was him quickly averting his gaze, a subtle flush coloring his cheeks. He clears his throat, attempting to regain his composure.

"This is the one. It looks…good on you," he manages to say, his voice slightly strained.

“It’s 500 gold marks.”

He picks up on the teasing in your tone and the way Willow shakes her head in reassurance at him. Still, he humors you and says, “I don’t care.”

He’d pay more than 500 gold marks just to make you happy.

Azriel battled with restless thoughts that night, unable to find solace in sleep. Each time he closed his eyes, the vivid image of you in that dress invaded his mind. He couldn’t wait to see you in that dress again. Maybe then, he’d have the courage to compliment you better.

As the sun dipped below the horizon and the first guests arrived for the Starfall celebration, Azriel's eyes eagerly scanned the gathering crowd, seeking a glimpse of you. Just as a twinge of disappointment crept in, his shadows stirred, signaling your proximity. His wings twitched with anticipation, and his breath caught in his throat at the sight of you. You are absolutely stunning. Breathtaking.

In an instant heartbeat, he’s pushing Cassian, who was ready to fly you up to the House of Wind, aside. With a warning look, Cassian steps away with a chuckle.

"You're here," he whispers, a blend of disbelief and relief saturating his breath.

“Well a very nice male spent a lot of money for me to be here.”

“Well I’m glad.” Azriel chuckles, eyes drinking you in again. Savoring you. “You’re beautiful.”

“So are you.”

Azriel flushes at the unexpected compliment and his shadows to come to life around him. He smiles at you. “Shall we?”

He waits for your nod before carefully hooking an arm beneath your knees, eyes never leaving yours. A thrill courses through him as he revels in the sensation of your arms around his neck, taking delight in the way you feel in his arms. His wings unfurl behind him, preparing for the short flight up. The sound has your eyes fluttering shut, arms tightening around him and face burying into his neck. He finds it absolutely endearing. He never wants to let you go.

Against his wishes, the flight up to the balcony was short. He sets you down, helping you regain your footing, a lingering touch before reluctantly releasing you. There’s still more guests he, unfortunately, has to fly up. It’s as if you sense his internal conflict because you’re turning around to face him, eyes bright and alight.

“Yes, Azriel. I’ll save you a dance.”

The way his name rolls off your tongue sends a thrill up his spine. He opens his mouth to say something but once again, you beat him to it.

"Thought I'd save you the question," you stated, an all-knowing grin gracing your features as you tapped the corner of one of your eyes. Ah, so you had a vision of him. He wonders about the other glimpses you might have seen.

He doesn’t have too much time to dwell on it as Elain is rushing toward you, showering you with compliments. He takes that as his cue to depart. He is determined to finish his tasks in bringing the remaining guests up as fast as he can so that he can return to you and that dance you promised.

Azriel finds himself stealing glances whenever he thinks you won’t notice. The sparkle in your eyes, the way the dress accentuates your features–he can't look away. Caught up in the melody of your laughter, provoked by something Elain said, Azriel and his shadows are too mesmerized in the beauty of you to notice Feyre approaching until she speaks.

"She’s beautiful," Feyre remarks, her eyes following the same path as Azriel's gaze.

A soft affirmation escapes Azriel's lips. "Yes."

Feyre, well aware of the answer, delves further. "You bought her that dress?"

“Yes.”

A mischievous gleam flickers in Feyre's eyes as she delivers her next statement. "You like her."

Azriel's response slips out before he can even grasp the depth of his own admission. "Yes."

He turns to Feyre, his wide eyes betraying the shock of his own revelation. A slight pallor washes over his skin, and Feyre chuckles at his reaction. Sensing the tension in the air, she rests a reassuring arm on his shoulder. “I like her too,” she confesses.

Though, both of them recognize that Azriel's feelings for you run deeper and in more intricate ways than Feyre's own fondness.

“I offered her a place in this court. She said she’d think about it. Maybe you can convince her? The same way you convinced her to come to Starfall,” Feyre says and then with one last pat on his shoulder, she makes her way back toward Rhysand.

Still recovering from the revelation of his own feelings, it takes a while longer for the weight of Feyre’s words to sink in. A mixture of surprise, uncertainty, and a flicker of hope plays out across his features. You weren’t planning on staying? The thought of you leaving–leaving him stirs a feeling in his chest. His eyes seek you out again but you’re no longer standing beside Elain.

In your place, stands Lucien and normally the sight would trigger dark emotions from him. But now? He feels nothing. There’s no sense of envy. His affections have shifted elsewhere.

Azriel’s shadows fall to the floor, slithering against the cool tile like serpents of the night. They lead the way directly to where you stand, by the champagne table. He makes his way toward you and you're downing the rest of the liquid in your glass.

“Azriel.” You smile at him.

“It’s time for you to fulfill the promise you made me.”

“Of course,” you reply, offering him your hand.

Azriel gracefully pulls you into his embrace. One hand wraps around yours while the other rests on your waist. The enchanting melody guides your movements as the two of you glide across the floor.

“Feyre told me she offered you a role in this court.”

Your eyes, wise and mysterious, meet his, and he feels your body tense under his hold. “What else did she tell you?”

“That you’d think about it,” he says, the rhythm of the dance allowing for a moment of ease to settle between you. “You should stay.”

“Why?”

A wistful expression colors your features and the soft glow of stars are reflected in your eyes. The music comes to a gradual end and you free yourself of his hold before the next song begins.

“There’s no one here for me.” You admit and then give a small laugh as you look down. There's a deep, haunting sadness to your laughter, striking a chord within him.

“I’m right here.”

Lifting your head back up, your eyes search his for something with a glimmer of hope. An eternity seems to pass in your gaze. A frown settles over your lips and he feels a tinge of sadness. Whatever you sought, it seems you did not find it.

Suppressing the surge of emotions within him, his hand reaches for yours again. He guides you to somewhere more private, toward one of the balconies that is off limits to the guests. “Talk to me,” he says, his words carrying an invitation for you to unburden your heart.

Your hands grip onto the railing before you and attention is directed up towards the night sky. He mirrors your actions, resting his hands close to yours. So close he can feel your warmth but not close enough to touch.

"It feels weird being here," you sigh deeply. "My mother and I used to sneak out of Hewn City on Starfall just to catch a glimpse of these migrating spirits every year...until she realized what I was. She said I was a curse, said she would turn me into Keir and let him have his way with me if I didn't leave."

Azriel's fingers clench into a white knuckled grip at your words.

"Not that leaving a horrible city such as Hewn was exactly a punishment. It was probably for the best. Still didn't stop me from being scared. It was the first time in my life that I was actually alone. I learned how to survive."

"I met the Suriel a year later. He must've taken pity on me and would visit me without being summoned. Sometimes, it'd be to tease me with some gossip. Other times, to annoy and chide me for my mistakes. Most importantly, he taught me how to not only survive on my own but live alone. I don't know, it's probably silly but I just felt a lot less lonely when I was actually alone than I do here."

“It’s not silly. I used to feel that way too.” Azriel admits and after a moment of silence, he’s turning toward you. “Am I not your friend?”

“I don’t know,” you find yourself saying again, uncertainty clouding your expression. Pausing, you tear your gaze from the night sky to look at him. “Do you want to be?”

“Yes,” Azriel smiles at you. And so much more.

You smile back at him but it doesn’t last long. Turning your head to face directly ahead, you bite the inside of your cheek in hesitation, revealing to Azriel that there’s more troubling you than your sense of loneliness.

“What else?”

“There’s nothing else.”

“y/n.”

“I feel like a failure.”

Azriel's eyes widen, his heart sinking to his stomach. “You’re not,” he reassures quickly.

“I–I just,” you stammer, the weight of self-doubt evident in your voice. “It’s nearing four months since I’ve arrived, and I feel like I’ve barely scratched the surface with Elain.”

“How long did it take you to harness your abilities?”

“Decades,” you respond, the admission carrying a hint of sheepishness. “But Elain is different. This is different. I don’t want to disappoint her. Disappoint Feyre. The world we know is crumbling apart, and we don’t have time. If–if we cannot fix it before it’s too late, I will have failed him.”

“Hey, look at me.”

When you don’t, Azriel lightly grips your chin, coaxing your gaze to him. “You’re here, aren’t you? You’re honoring his wish by just being here. Keep trying,” he encourages, wiping away your tears. “I’ll be here with you every step of the way. You’re not alone. We’ll face this together.”

“Together?”

He releases his hold on you, resting his hand once more on the rail. This time, it’s even closer to yours.

“Together,” he confirms, heart swarming with warmth when your hand bridges the gap between you and brushes against his.

And finally, it seems your lonely days are through.

Azriel’s been in love before. Twice. Or at least, he thought it was love. One was unrequited, a silent ache he carried within. The other was forbidden, a love he had clung to with misguided hope. He was beginning to come to the begrudging conclusion that love was simply not meant for him.

Then, you came along. Strange as it seems, you've seemed to have brought back that old feeling to him, awakening something deep inside of him. And though he doesn't know what you did, he thinks--he hopes that you could be the one. The one to possibly release him from the chains of solitude and longing.

You've rarely left his mind since the night he met you. The echoes of your first words to him lingered in his mind long after your encounter, “I’ve been waiting for you.”

Your voice was cloaked in both mystery and certainty, as though you held the threads of destiny within your grasp. It prompted him to ask who you were but your answer, “that’s for you to decide” only gave rise to more questions.

Then, there was that smile. So beautiful, so hopeful. It etched itself into the recesses of his memory. It was a smile no one had ever bestowed upon him before and one he longed to see it again.

And he almost ruined it all–that day he snapped at you after a session gone wrong with Elain. Your intentions were always pure. He knew this. No one was at fault as everything that transpired between you and Elain was completely consensual. But the scream that tore through Elain sent him in a heightened frenzy. He had sworn to Rhysand and Feyre, his High Lord and High Lady, that he would protect Elain. Before he could properly assess the situation, he had roughly pushed you aside with a growl. The hurt that flashed in your eyes in response haunted him nearly every night.

You began to actively avoid his gaze and presence whenever possible, and guilt gnawed at him relentlessly. Even his shadows, missing your attention, seemed angry with him. Truth be told, he was angry with himself too. You had made friends with everyone. Everyone but him.

The following two weeks became a series of futile attempts at groveling, your obliviousness to it all cutting deeper than he cared to admit. The breaking point came when you missed dinner, and he knew it was time to set things right then. So he sent his shadows to look for you and when they reported back to him that you were sleeping in the library, he brought your dinner to you.

After that moment, the atmosphere between you two shifted. He became the chaser, gradually closing the distance between you.

You looked his way more, approached him with a newfound openness, and your conversations became more frequent. You teased him at times, even, with your cryptic words. But rather than frustrating him, it only made him seek you out more. He wanted to be the one to unravel the mystery that was you.

Somewhere down the line, his eyes stopped searching for Elain's. The private moments he sought with her became mere echoes of the past—no more lingering touches, exchanged glances, or pointless conversations. Instead, it was you who occupied the center of his attention, infiltrating his dreams and igniting desires he never knew he harbored.

You eased him like no other, effortlessly coaxing smiles and laughter from him. It was in these moments that the realization struck him like a bolt of lightning—he had never truly been in love during the first two instances. What he felt for you was different. He was unwilling to let his feelings linger in the shadows, as they had done before. He yearned for them to step into the light. To be acknowledged and acted upon openly.

He decided to wait until after Solstice to confess to you and hoped that your visions wouldn't give him away.

Laughter and clinks of wine glasses ring through the air. Azriel knows it’s time to open presents, his shadows singing loudly and overwhelming him with information. Cassian is sneaking a peak. Rhysand is rolling his eyes. Elain got Lucien a present. y/n is holding back tears.

Azriel tenses at the last bit of information, eyes immediately finding you. You’re seated beside Feyre–the two of you exchanging smiles. There’s an unwrapped present on your lap and his shadows dart toward it. It’s a small portrait of the Suriel. He hears you thank Feyre and he swears he can feel your ache of grief. He moves to stand from his seat but Elain stops him.

“Happy Solstice,” she says, holding out a small present. He takes the box albeit reluctantly but politely and opens it to find two tickets to an upcoming play.

Elain smiles at the frown he’s trying to hide.

"Elain, I can't--"

“Y/n mentioned always wanting to go see a play. I thought maybe you could be the one to take her. After you confess."

His eyes search hers for any traces of hurt. He’s relieved when he finds none but the frown in his brow remains. “How–”

“She trained me well," Elain replies, eyes shining with an all knowing gleam he's seen in yours. "She deserves to be happy. You both do and something tells me that she’s the one you’ve been waiting for.”

Gods, you and Elain have been hanging out so much with one another that now she’s beginning to talk like you. There's a tightening in his chest, like a band about to snap at her words.

Azriel looks back at Elain in question but she only smiles at him once more before retreating back to where she was sitting previously. Next to Lucien, who also sends a smile his way.

Looking down at the tickets, he thinks of you again. His shadows stir, mirroring the strange sensation in his chest. It’s almost like a pull and his shadows guide him toward it, turning his head for him. Just in time to catch a glimpse of you quietly slipping away from the festivities. His steps quicken as he follows you, pulling his coat along with him.

The soft flakes of snow flutter down, a delicate dance in the winter night. Despite weeks of continuous snowfall, the enchanting beauty of it never fails to captivate you. It differs markedly from the unforgiving snowstorms you endured while wandering the Night Court's forests. Though just as cold, it prompts an involuntary shiver, a reaction to the biting chill in the air.

As the door behind you creaks open, a rush of warmth accompanies its movement. The scent of cedar invades your senses, growing more intense as you feel a fabric drape over your shoulders, bringing forth an intimate warmth.

"Hey," Azriel breathes, a visible puff of white escaping his lips.

"Hi," you smile back at him, your fingers instinctively reaching for the coat that draped over your shoulders. You can't help but notice the thin sweater he wears. "Won't you be cold, though?"

Azriel stops you, securing his coat back onto your smaller frame with a reassuring smile. “I grew up in a camp where it snowed a lot more than this. I’ll be fine.”

You look back up at the night sky. The stars are shining so bright. It makes you wonder if they ever tire. They seem to answer you as their radiant beams cast a celestial glow upon you. Your vision blurs in surrender.

“What are you seeing?” Azriel inquires, curious. He hopes it's not the confession he's aching to spill.

Your eyebrows knit together, and you close your eyes, immersing yourself in deciphering the messages woven between the stars. Upon opening your eyes, you turn to Azriel, a teasing smirk playing on your lips.

“You're going to get frostbite."

Azriel lets out an amused huff. "I don't care. As long as you're warm."

"We should head back inside," you suggest.

"No," Azriel insists, enfolding a wing around your form, anchoring you in place. His shadows can sense you don't want to go back inside yet. "I like being alone with you."

The wind nips at your cheeks, a sensation you welcome as it gives the perfect excuse for the blush creeping across your face. Tearing your gaze away from Azriel before he can discern his effect on you, you quietly share, "Nyx is going to say his first word in three days."

Azriel leans forward and you can feel his anticipation. A familial bet circulates among his uncles and aunts (save for Elain) regarding what the young heir’s first word will be. “What is it?”

“Cas.”

Azriel can't resist glancing back toward the house, his eyes narrowing with a mix of suspicion and curiosity. There, he catches a fleeting glimpse of Cassian playfully hoisting Nyx in the air, the two engaged in a lively game of chase around the living room. When he turns his attention back to you, mischief twinkles in your eyes.

“You’re lying.”

“You fell for it."

And that smile he’s been longing for since he met you graces your lips as you laugh. A sweet and beautiful sound that warms the winter air. Azriel's gaze dips toward your lips, captivated by the sound, before lifting back to meet your eyes. He leans in even closer.

“I fell for you.”

You also lean in, eyes never leaving his. "The answer is yes."

"What?"

Azriel nearly stumbles back, caught off guard, but you remain close, lifting a hand and cradling his cheek. It's surprisingly warm and he instinctively leans into your touch. His eyes widen. Did you—

“To you taking me on a date,” you reveal, your smile deepening, and he swears his shadows snicker in response. “The vision I just saw. It was of me and you at a theater. Next Friday at seven.”

“Next Friday at seven,” Azriel confirms, a tender affection lighting up his expression.

The air seems to shimmer with the promise of an enchanting future. You reach out, tugging at the bond in your chest. Once again, there is only silence. Yet, you can’t bring yourself to care anymore. Not when Azriel is gazing at you as though you are the very stars illuminating the night sky.

And then you're kissing him.

The snow crunches underfoot as Azriel moves, his usually keen senses dulled. His mind is elsewhere, consumed by thoughts of you. Even as the icy missiles fly past him, Azriel remains lost in the memories of shared glances and smiles and the way your lips felt so perfect against his last night.

For the first time in years, Azriel finds himself on the losing side of the annual snowball fight. Oddly, no disappointment lingers, even after meticulous planning for this anticipated victory. All he wants is to return home—to you.

Amidst the snowy chaos, revelation strikes him simultaneously with a snowball from Rhysand. The snap, the bond—everything falls into place. It all makes sense now. Your words when you first met. Elain’s words last night at Solstice. Why your presence thrilled and delighted him. Why he couldn't shake the feeling of love and adoration for you.

You are his mate.

The one he had been longing and pleading for, and the realization left him breathless. He shakes the snow from his face and Rhysand blinks back at him in surprise. The High Lord had been expecting a glare but he only finds pure shock on Azriel’s face.

“Oh come on, I didn’t hit you that hard,” he teases.

“I have to go.”

“If you leave, you’re forfeiting,” warns Cassian, but the glint in his eye betrays a desire for Azriel to leave, eager for a victory.

“I yield,” Azriel says mindlessly, surprising even Rhysand. Feeling his friend's talons probing his mind, Azriel throws up his shields and disappears into his shadows, abandoning the snow-covered battlefield. He'll explain later.

For now, he has to find you.

His shadows winnow him back to the River house and he doesn’t have to look for long because there you are, making your way down the last step and standing in his path. There’s not much that surprises you but that has changed since meeting Azriel and this moment is no different. Your eyes are widening, mouth parting.

“Azriel," you say. "What are you doing here? I thought you were–”

“It’s you,” Azriel interrupts breathlessly as if he was running, chest rising and falling quickly in step with the erratic beating of his heart. He’s bridging the distance between you. “All this time. It’s been you.”

You swallow thickly. “You know?”

The glimmer of hope that had ignited during Starfall returns to your eyes, revealing a world he hadn’t realized existed. How could he have been so blind?

Azriel smiles at you and it’s as if that’s the last piece to the puzzle as the bond between you both comes to life, singing loudly against your chests. He pulls you flush against him and spins you around, eliciting a delightful squeal from you. Cradling your face in his hands, he kisses your forehead, then the corners of your eyes. He saves your lips for last, lingering in the sweet taste of them for a moment longer.

“You’re my mate,” he says quietly, leaning his forehead against yours.

“Yes,” you manage to whisper back, surrendering yourself to the depths of his mesmerizing hazel eyes, just like in the vision from months ago. And it’s not you who speaks again but Azriel.

“I’ve been waiting for you.”

a/n: hope you all enjoyed this (: It took me longer to write than I thought because i'm used to writing more angst for Az than fluff but I wanted this to be different. It's canon that Elain found out that reader and Az were mates through a vision around the same time she decided to give Lucien a chance. I just want them all to be happy ♡ in terms of my ABBA x ACOTAR series, I think I'll work on another one for Cas next inspired by Honey, Honey. If you'd like to be tagged, just let me know!

tagging: @hellodarling1357

if you want to read more about Az x Seer reader, I wrote a couple of bonus scenes that didn't quite make the final cut. You can read them here.

#azriel x reader #azriel imagine #azriel shadowsinger #acotar imagine #azriel x you #azriel x y/n #azriel acotar #azriel fluff #azriel angst #azriel fanfic #acotar #acotar fanfiction #acotar x reader #acotar x y/n #abba x acotar

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ivymarquis · 1 month

Text

The Neighbor

Hello friends I fucked off for a month but I’m back and I bring Price smut as an apology for my absence. @sky-is-the-limit’s “Im here to do what your boyfriend cant” prompt has lived in my brain rent free ecer since I read it and while I didn’t follow it verbatim, I did keep in spirit with the theme :)

Also womp I was gone for the Price challenge by @glitterypirateduck but this actually checks off a couple of the prompt options (first time being intimate, a confession/secret is discovered/revealed) so I’m submitting it.

There are a lot of tags. Make sure you read them.

Pairing| John Price x Reader Rating| M Word Count| 4.8k Kinks/Content/Warnings| Accidental voyuerism by virtue of living in an apartment, the reader has a dogshit boyfriend at the beginning of the fic (there is no cheating), slut shaming (from the dogshit boyfriend), these two idiots are down bad for each other, sex toys, oral (F!receiving), unprotected PiV, gratuitous squirting because I’m me, not really heavy on BDSM elements but mentions of the following: bondage/restraints (John uses his hands, nothing crazy), something akin to subspace from how good the nut is, aftercare, John is a prick to the now-ex, very brief angst due to a quick misunderstanding, very vaguely implied somnophilia, rampant abuse of italics. Lemme know if I missed anything.

His neighbor is clearly used to Price being deployed.

She’s a sweet thing, really, and on the whole isn’t that disagreeable of a neighbor.

He just has one problem with her (not even her, really) that is a thorn in his fucking side- her boyfriend.

The boyfriend was not an issue when they first met- wasn’t in the picture at all.

And no John most assuredly hasn’t had it out for the guy since Day 1. The fact that John had gathered himself up to ask his pretty neighbor out when he came back from his latest mission, only to find out about the new boyfriend, does not color his impression of the other man. He’s grown and this is not the first time his advances have been turned away for whatever reason.

But there are, to his knowledge, no true redeeming qualities about the man and he is about as useful as a screen door on a submarine.

He catches bits and pieces through the walls. The boyfriend is not attentive, caring, or sweet to her. She is treated as a guest in her own home, and twice he’s heard bellowing shouts that had Price at the door with his fist banging against it- both to shut him up and make it exceptionally well known that if the boyfriend thinks intimidating a woman is going to fly, that Price will not hesitate to kick the door in.

The most appalling part of it all is that John has a front row seat to just how atrocious he is in bed.

For the life of him John does not understand. It’s not even like the lad’s a good lay.

He’s heard many stories of women tolerating absolutely atrocious behavior from the muppets they were with because he knew how to make them see stars.

That is exceptionally not the case here. And John is rapidly finding his patience wearing thin at continually being subjugated to his pathetic performance.

So what the hell is it about the boyfriend that keeps his neighbor so enamored with him?

John stares at the ceiling, watching the blades of the fan turn as he tries to tune out the thumping of the headboard against the wall.

He thinks that if the man was just a bad lay and completely incapable of getting her anywhere, that would be one thing and John would continue to be frustrated but ultimately understand. But it’s the way he seems to actively ruin it anytime she has the audacity to enjoy having sex with him that truly grates on John’s nerves.

It’s not often, but even a blind squirrel finds a nut every now and then. The thumping of the headboard is accompanied by her sweet voice moaning lowly in short staccato notes as the boyfriend appears to finally be doing something right.

The thumping comes to a halt, and John groans in frustration.

“Why’d you stop?” He can hear his pretty neighbor lament through the thin walls.

“Why the fuck are you being so loud? Trying to give the neighbor a show?”

John squints his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose in annoyance. The fucking muppet can’t do anything right.

If the neighbor was his, John wouldn’t give a fuck who heard. Let all the neighbors know that he could fuck the sense clear out of her pretty little head. John could show the muppet what loud is.

“No! I’m not trying to do anything- it just felt good,” she defends herself.

“Well, be quieter about it, no one needs to hear that. You sound like a whore,” the muppet snaps at her irritably, and John is nearly at his fucking limit when the god damn headboard starts to thump against the wall again.

“Get out.”

Oh.

John is impressed- pleasure and pride coursing through him as his sweet neighbor stands up for herself rather than letting that ungrateful swine continue to berate her.

Good fucking girl.

“What did you just say?” The thumping stops.

“You don’t get to call me names. Get off of me and get out.”

For all his sins, it seems even the muppet has a line he’s not willing to cross.

There’s a shifting as he presumably pulls out and gets off the bed- the words are muffled but the tone is clear. The muppet isn’t above laying into her verbally though consent is (smartly) a line he won’t toe.

And good thinking on his part- John would probably tear through the drywall and turn him into a chew toy had that conversation gone in any other direction.

The door slams loudly, announcing the boyfriend’s departure.

John can’t help but keep his attention on his neighbor to see what her reaction is going to be. It is taking every ounce of self control he has to not follow the boyfriend and wring his neck in the parking lot.

There’s no conventional guide for how to address this situation with your neighbor. ‘Hello, I’ve fancied you for quite some time and that ungrateful prick somehow swept you up before I got the nerve to ask you out. I've had to hear you have the most lackluster sex ever for the past several months, and equal parts want to check in on how you’re doing emotionally after his latest stunt, and also want to bend you over and pin you to the mattress until you’re squealing. May I come in?’

He can’t say he is too surprised to hear things slamming about in the apartment- his pretty neighbor sounding more pissed off than upset, catching snippets of “Who the fuck does he think he is, talking to me like that” and “Motherfucker couldn’t find my clit with a map and a headlamp but can find the audacity to call me names-”

Okay, John has to fight back the urge to laugh at that last one lest she hear him. She’s quite the viper when (finally) provoked, and it just endears her more to him.

She doesn’t appear particularly distraught, the slamming and huffing and muttering concluding with her tossing herself on the bed.

It’s a very common occurrence that after the neighbor’s rendezvous with her lazy boyfriend, John is treated to a show where she finishes herself off with her toys.

The boyfriend, like many inadequate men, is threatened by them and John has heard the snide remarks.

Hilarious, he finds it, that a man incapable of getting her off is so adamant that she gets rid of them.

She hasn’t listened, clearly, as the low sound of her vibrator can be heard through the wall.

John is soon graced with the sound of her panting moans. His cock stiffens in interest at her voice, which is a frequent occurrence. She makes such pretty noises, mewling and whimpering as she works herself up.

Tonight is a whirlwind of emotions for his pretty neighbor, and at the end of the day her no-good boyfriend left her high and dry.

John will gladly enjoy the consequences of the boyfriend’s actions, one hand wrapping around his cock and beginning to stroke in time with her whines.

What he wouldn’t give for a chance to make her see stars. He’d be so good to her.

The reality of his job makes dating a logistical nightmare, part of what stayed his hand for so long.

He’s not blind. His neighbor is kind and sweet with a killer smile and wandering eyes. He’s caught her more than once ogling him when he’s returned home in uniform, or more nondescript tactical clothing.

Feeling her gaze on him always makes him puff up with pride, enjoying holding her attention no matter how fleeting. If he takes his time after a run and makes a point to pull the hem of his shirt up to wipe at his brow where she can see it, that’s his business.

So John thinks he’s dreaming when he hears that lovely voice whimper his name from the other side of the wall.

He stiffens, quietly waiting to see if he hears it again.

“John- Oh, fuck- please,” is all he needs to hear before he’s well and truly lost any semblance of patience.

Only having the presence of mind to dress himself enough to not warrant any errant looks from the other neighbors, he is at her door in a second.

It’s only after he knocks that he realizes he may well have killed whatever momentum she’s built for herself- given her muttering as she approaches the door- but he fully intends to make up for the stolen release.

She opens the door without looking through the peephole, obviously expecting it to be the ex based on the vitriol poised to spill at John’s chest, approximately eye level with where the (hopefully ex) boyfriend would be.

Once again he has to stifle a laugh, finding her a comical vision when the anger on her face melts away as her eyes flick up to his face with the realization that it is him at the door and not the object of her ire.

“What are you doing here, John?” Christ, he’s always been a sucker for pretty doe eyes. If he held even an ounce less of restraint he’d be mounting her right here for everyone to see.

“I’m here to do what your sorry excuse of a boyfriend can’t.”

Even as he reaches out to pull her in for a kiss, he’s watching her body language- gauging if she stiffens or shifts away.

She doesn’t.

In fact, her arms loop behind him and pull him closer, tugging on his hair and his shirt.

John’s not wasting any more time than he already has, walking her backwards into the apartment and shutting the door with his foot before reaching back to lock it- he’s got no desire for any interruptions from wayward former boyfriends.

They separate for a moment as she paws at the hem of his shirt, clearly wanting it off of him. John is all too happy to oblige, preening under her attention. He’s always had the stockier build of a man who’s fitness came from utility in the field, opposed to the hard defined abs of someone who spends most of their time in the gym.

It’s cute, the way she has to pry her eyes up to his face- clearly liking what she sees and flustered by the fact that John can see her staring.

“I broke up with him,” she clarifies.

“Good,” is his simplistic response, although if John’s being honest with himself he doesn’t really care about the finer details. The little prick never deserved to have her and John finally has his chance to prove himself worthy.

“The bedroom’s this way,” she prompts between kisses.

Their clothes are peeled off in turns as they stumble towards the room. The layout is inverted to John’s own flat nextdoor, so despite having never stepped foot inside before he guides her to keep her from crashing into something behind her.

By the time they are collapsing against her bed, they’re stripped of everything except a scant thong on her and his own boxers.

She’s just so delightfully soft in his grip, John can’t keep his hands or his mouth off of her.

The feeling is reciprocated as she pushes up off the bed to grind against him. As much as he’s relishing in them dry humping and making out like teenagers, he’s wanted her for so long and now that she’s finally willing and pliant underneath him, he’s itching for a taste of her.

Kissing his way down her body- starting at her jaw, the column of her neck, across her collar bone, down her sternum; latching onto each nipple and teasing them to hardened peaks before continuing his path down.

He’s compelled by the urge to turn her into a chew toy as he reaches her belly, although he stifles that urge and keeps his teeth to himself.

He can’t quite resist giving a small nip as she squirms, clearly excited by the implication of where he’s heading.

There’s a damp spot on her underwear already as he kisses along the waistband while his hands tease with the elastic on either side of her hips.

The sound of her breath hitching in anticipation makes him smirk, attention drifting further south.

The fabric is in his way as he presses a kiss against her clothed cunt, gripping handfuls of her hips to keep her still as she bucks in his grasp.

“Easy, sweetheart- we’ve got all night,” he soothes before moving his attention up one thigh to the backside of her knee.

Those sweet thighs are splayed open for him, giving John unfettered access as he continues to tease.

“When’s this sweet cunt been eaten last, hm?”

He knows he’s heard her give that undeserving muppet head, but can’t recall any reciprocation occuring. There’s not much that can shock John at this point in his life, and he’s willing to roll the dice by dragging up her now-ex because he knows this poor thing hasn’t been eaten until she’s begging him off in ages.

“I couldn’t even begin to tell you,” she answers breathlessly, anticipating having her thighs twitching in his hold.

Out of the corner of his eye, John spies a torn condom wrapper that didn’t quite make it into the bin. Well that keeps him from having to ask two questions, then. Smart girl.

“What a shame,” he tsks lightly, peppering kisses back up and down her thigh.

Deciding that she’s waited long enough and he’s had his fun being a tease, John is quick to remove the scant lace and pull it off of her legs before tossing it to who-knows-where.

The sounds she makes as he makes a meal out of her is music to his ears. Each hitched moan and breathy whimper makes him stiffen in interest.

His attention shifts to focus on her clit, tongue circling the sensitive nub as his hands hold her hips in place.

As focused as he is on what’s right in front of him, it takes a moment for John to realize that she’s stifling her noises. One hand is fisting the sheets beneath her while the other is clamped across her lips.

Well. That simply won’t do.

The ex may have trained and shamed her into silence, but John didn’t make it as a military captain without learning how to break someone else’s bad habits.

He ignores her whimper of protest as he stops, one hand abandoning the softness of her hip in favor of grabbing her wrist and pulling her hand away from her mouth.

“None of that,” he admonishes gently, pressing a kiss to one thigh. “Let me hear you.”

“I-I’m too loud,” she protests and for a split second John sees red.

To his credit, he does not leave her wet and leaking on the bed to go bludgeon her ex to death with a blunt object.

“No such thing, sweetheart,” he soothes before having a thought to tease her. “Who are you worried is going to hear you?” He asks kindly, a shit eating grin as he speaks again, “the neighbor?”

Her wide eyed expression is thoroughly scandalized and John can’t fight the chuckle that escapes him.

He hasn’t released her wrist yet, deciding that it’s time to get back to his meal. If she abandons gripping the sheet with her free hand to cover her mouth again, he simply plans to hold both of her wrists.

It’s tentative at first, still not entirely trusting John at his word that he wants to hear her.

But John is all for positive reinforcement as a motivator, crooking his fingers to stroke that one spot that makes her see stars to encourage more from her.

She’s a quick study, although when she releases the sheet John is watching her like a hawk.

Rather than clasping over her mouth again, John is pleased when her fingers end up burying in his hair.

More than happy to let her guide him, John takes his cues from how she pulls at his hair. The feel of her thighs twitching as she breathes in staccato breaths is all the reward he needs.

“You’re getting close,” he says against her cunt, pointing out the obvious before getting back to work. She’s anxious, he thinks, the closer she gets to her climax. Poor girl doesn’t know what to do with herself with an orgasm she hasn’t had to put all the work into.

“D-don’t stop,” she stammers, rewarded immediately with John redoubling his efforts.

He’s not going to stop. Pretty thing like her deserves nothing less than laying on her back and enjoying getting her cunt eaten out.

“O-oh fuck,” is his only warning before she’s gushing on his face and John is like a kid on Christmas morning.

He doesn’t even know if she realizes she’s squirted, too caught up in the pleasure of her high.

He’s always thought it was hot- now that he knows his pretty neighbor is a squirter he is more than willing to get on his knees and pray to whoever is listening that this isn’t a one time event. He’ll do anything to get her to keep him.

Even as her high fades he doesn’t let up on her, continuing to work his middle and ring finger inside of her. All he wants is to see her cum- wants to see those eyes roll as she squeezes them shut in anticipation.

Despite pulling his face away from her wet pussy, he doesn’t leave her clit unattended for long before his thumb is gently circling in time with the thrusts of his fingers.

Kissing his way back up her body, John can’t help but be pleased as she pulls him in to make out with him. Snatched gasps and bucks of her hips grace his ears as he works her from orgasm to the next, the wet sound of his palm slapping against her.

“John Im gonna cum again,” she whimpers in warning.

He feels like a god with the way she stares up at him reverently, eyes wide and desperate for another climax.

“Come on,” he goads, “Show me- let me see your face when you cum.”

Christ if her leg twitches any harder it’s going to start vibrating, serving to only encourage him.

“O-oh,” she mewls, “God- don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t-“ she’s pleading with him like he wouldn’t sit at her feet if she asked him to.

The bewildered look on her face is darling, and John nearly finishes untouched; he's so wound up it’s not going to take much.

A few choice thoughts keep his own eminent climax at bay and buys him enough breathing room. She bucks and trembles in his hold, a high pitched squeal escaping her as he proves not only can he make her cum twice, but he can make her squirt like a faucet twice.

As soon as she’s starting to come down from her high she’s pulling at him, drawing up her knees to spread her legs in invitation.

“Greedy girl,” he teases as he kisses her- wet fingers abandoning her cunt in favor of manhandling her, wrapping her legs around his waist as he positions himself.

“Please, please, please-“ she begs so prettily for him, pleading for him to do exactly what he’s been fantasizing about for months.

He’s not a small man and mindful of that fact, but she’s well prepped and takes him easily. The desperate whimper that escapes her sears into John’s memory.

The buildup of everything finally gets to him as he wastes no time setting a steady pace.

“That’s it, sweetheart, just like that. Let me hear you,” he encourages as she cants her hips in time with his, whines of pleasure escaping her on each thrust.

“John, please,” she begs, eyebrows furrowing in pleasure as she watches where they’re joined.

“Eyes up here,” he instructs and Christ he almost loses it when her gaze flicks from between their bodies up to his face.

His hands find hers, fingers lacing together as he lowers his torso in order to kiss the ethereal creature underneath him.

She whimpers into his mouth, her sounds only encouraging John.

Everything about her is warm and inviting, from her soft skin to her warm cunt and the way she sings for him at every thrust.

Maneuvering them so he can grip both her wrists with one of his hands, the other immediately dives between their bodies to find her clit again.

His pretty neighbor has spent months not having an orgasm she didn’t give herself, and John is determined to prove to her that he can give her as many as she can handle.

“John I can’t cum again,” she pleads even as her thighs shake on either side of him.

“Yes you can,” he assures her. “One more time for me, yeah?”

Now, should she insist she’s done and satisfied then John would leave her clit alone and finish up their fun. As it is, though, she nods in acquiescence before the trembling in her thighs increases.

“Good girl,” he praises, fingers continuing their steady pace around her clit as she creeps closer to the edge.

She’s babbling in his ear as he presses a kiss to her temple and he knows she’s almost there.

“Good girl,” he praises again, a cocksure grin pulling at the corners of his lips at her immediate response.

“My good girl,” he ups the ante, testing her response to John staking a claim on her. And God did it ever work. That last little bit is all it takes to finally tip her over.

She clenches down on him like a vice and John immediately loses it, groaning low as the haze of his orgasm washes over him.

It’s everything he wants- she’s everything he wants as he recovers enough from his climax to finally notice that the bed is an utter mess beneath them.

It’s not his immediate concern however, more interested in soothing her through the come down of her high. She’s shivering underneath him, eyes glossy from the intensity of her last orgasm.

“Easy, sweetheart,” he murmurs reassuringly. “Just breathe for me.”

He gathers her up in his arms, listening as her heartbeat relaxes in time with his own.

Eventually when enough time passes she’s more alert and happily snuggling against his chest. After giving her a chance to rest he herds her along to the bathroom so she doesn’t give herself a UTI. She tries to brush him off but her legs are taking their sweet time cooperating again.

Of course, she’s not exactly a recruit taking a piss test so he gives her her privacy and she’s able to return on her own albeit on shaky legs.

John pets at her head idly, attention drifting in post coital bliss as his hand strokes down along her back.

“I can’t believe you’re actually in my bed,” she giggles deliriously after a stretch of quiet.

“Only reason I wasn’t here sooner was because of that muppet,” he assures her. He doesn’t want her thinking that this is a one time thing for him. He’s wanted her for so long he can’t possibly be expected to turn her loose at the end of the night.

“I only dated him because I didn’t think you liked me,” she scoffs at herself.

“Oh, it was nearly the first moment I laid eyes on you. But with my work I kept talking myself out of doing anything,” he tells her. “Kept telling myself you deserve better. And then you brought the muppet home and kept him around,” John grouses good naturedly at her. “Think they say the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result.”

“I plead temporary insanity,” she jokes, snuggling closer against his chest. “But I got rid of him. And you finally made your move.”

He hums in agreement, sleep pulling at him now that he has her tucked up against his side.

John doesn’t remember falling asleep but he wakes with a jolt to the sound of pounding on her door.

He’s only been out for an hour or so when he checks the clock on the nightstand, his neighbor sprawled out next to him.

Well, now he knows she snores. The sound is light enough to have never heard it through the wall, but curled up next to him she’s like a cat purring loudly in his ear.

And he’s exceptionally pissed right off at the fact someone has woken him up. Especially considering he has one guess who it is.

He fully debates answering the door buck ass naked to teach the prick a lesson about banging on doors after midnight but settles on tossing his joggers on.

Much like when she opened the door for John, the ex is automatically trained at where her head would be rather than looking at John’s face.

“My eyes are here,” he quips sarcastically. “Why the fuck are you banging on the door this late.”

“Why th-“ the ex starts to parrot back before cutting himself off. “Why the fuck are you in her apartment? Why isn’t she answering?”

“She’s asleep,” John answers simply. There’s no obligation to explain the why and how he ended up in her apartment.

“What the fuck do you mean she’s asleep? How is she asleep after she just dumped me? And why the fuck are you here?”

The boyfriend (the ex boyfriend, he thinks with glee) is either oblivious or…

Well. The ex boyfriend is oblivious. Let’s just keep it at that.

“I’m here because you can’t do your job right. She’s asleep because I can. What part of that is confusing?”

“That stupid slag’s been fucking you behind my back-“

“No.” John is somewhat mindful of not giving a full on “screaming at recruits” bellow, but his voice booms into the corridor outside the apartment anyway. “You watch your fucking mouth. This” John gestures vaguely at his own presence in her flat, “just happened after she dumped you. You don’t get to hurl insults.”

“She hopped off of my cock and straight to yours- what the fuck else is it?”

“You couldn’t get her off,” John hisses in annoyance. “I’ve had front row seats to your shitty little performance more than once. Not 5 minutes after you leave and she’s having to handle it herself.”

“I can’t be expected to compete with a fucking vibrator!”

“Well I sure as shit didn’t need one to get the job done. Poor girl could barely get her legs to work to go to the loo and not give herself a UTI. Your skill issues are what started all of this.”

“You know what? Fucking have her. I don’t need this shit.”

Ah yes, because John needs the ex’s permission to date a newly single woman. Absolutely. That’s entirely how that works.

“Never needed your blessing. Now fuck off. I’m trying to sleep.”

The ex responds with a two finger salute as he spins on his heel and storms off.

John is almost tempted to grab him by the back of his neck and turn him into a chew toy. Given his military career, his patience for muppets giving him attitude is virtually nonexistent.

But the siren call of his pretty neighbor is a stronger pull than the muppet can ever hope to achieve. John’s succeeded in his mission to run the prick off, and he’s going to try to get a few more hours of sleep before seeing if she’s interested in another romp in the morning when she wakes up.

The bedroom is dark and poorly lit but John immediately picks up on the silence.

Rather than being sprawled out and snoring like when he left her, she’s quiet and curled into a ball.

She’s awake.

“Sweetheart?” He calls softly.

She jolts, fabric rustling from the sheets falling off her as she sits up.

“You’re still here,” the surprise in her tone cuts, although he knows she didn’t mean for it to.

She seems to realize how that comes across and clarifies further, “I- I heard the door shut.”

It falls into place for him then- she woke up to the sound of the door and John nowhere to be found. She thought he’d left.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he consoles, making his way back to the bed. “You’re not getting rid of me that easily,” he assures her while gathering her back into his arms.

Sleep comes back readily once the two of them are situated back in the bed.

Come morning, John’s got the patience and the presence of mind to throw a towel on the bed. He finds out for himself that his neighbor makes the prettiest noises with her arse propped up in the air and her face still buried in her pillow.

He can’t help but laugh later when she texts him that one of the neighbors made a noise complaint.

Age in bio/pinned or I will block you ♡

#ocaptainchallenge #john price x reader #captain john price #price x reader #cod x reader #x reader #implied plus size reader #take a shot every time john calls the reader pretty #but dont or youll get alcohol poisoning #also I used ‘turn into a chew toy’ 3 times and I dont care :)#my writing

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jyoongim · 2 months

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Heyyy, it’s me again, the singer anon. Can I request an Alastor x Reader where she is sent by as a spy by Vox after our fav slithery boy failed? She’s really bubbly and friendly, but she eventually grows to care for everyone in the hotel but Vox owns her soul. She torn in between getting herself killed by him and not betraying anyone anymore, or continuing the job. She goes and confesses to Alastor, breaking down and thinking he’ll kill her, which she thinks would be best so she doesn’t have to betray anyone anymore. Just breaking down in tears telling him she doesn’t want to hurt anyone but Vox has her under a contract, begging him to kill her so she doesn’t have to. Just for Alastor to call her a good girl and ughhhh some possessive smut if you don’t mind? Sorry brain rots in my head and I’m in love with him, lol. Thank you! <3 also the three requests story set off the trigger in my head, loved it! Thanks again! <3!

This been in my inbox for weeks and i finally got a plot for it!

⚠️warning: 18+! Smut smut smut! Plot if you look hard enough!

—————————————————————————————

No one suspected a thing.

You were sent to the Hazbin Hotel after Sir Pentious miserable attempt.

Your orders were simple: ”Keep an eye out on that old fossil. I want to know why that fucker is sucking up the Lucifer’s daughter”

And you did just that…you were executing your mission flawlessly.

Until you began to care about those who stayed at the hotel.

Until you began to grow closer to the Radio Demon.

————————————————————————————

You had been staying at the hotel for a few months now and its been great!

Charlie was always finding new ways to help the residents build bonds and encouraging everyone to do their best.

At first, you were arrogant, playing along until you actually saw the the demons there were actually changing even if they didn’t admit it

But now, you thought of the princess as a friend, along with everyone else.

Especially Alastor.

Now that you’ve been around him, you’re not sure why Vox hate the demon so much.

Alastor was funny, kind (in his own twisted way), and truly looked after the hotel.

A soft smile curled on your lips as you thought about the demon, but the ringing of your phone interrupted such thoughts.

Vox.

You took a deep breath and answered “H-Hello?”

”Tonight’s your chance to take out that prick and after that come home” he demanded.

You blinked “what? B-but Vox…” you bit your lips “But it’s actually nice here. The hotel isn’t a scam…a-and everyone is a lot nicer than we thought ” Vox laughed “Oh baby please! Nice? You actually believe in that redemption crap? You think that they’ll let you stay if they knew why you truly were there? Hahaha! Oh my dumb little girl, how naive you are. ”

You pouted, a frown on your face “I want to stay”

Vox growled through the phone “ah ah baby you don’t make demands remember?”

Electrical shocks ran through your body from the collar you wore.

You gasped in pain “I OWN you. Did you forget that? You do whatever I say when I say it. Now I expect you home before morning or I will kill you.”

The phone call ended and you were in tears.

You didn’t want to go back.

You liked being at the hotel and able to be yourself.

You liked the friends you had made here.

You would do anything for them, even if you had to die to make your wrongs right.

————————————————————————

“Come in” the voice answered after you knocked on the door. You were sweating as you stood outside of Alastor’s door.

You had decided that if you were going to tell anyone why you were at the hotel, it would be Alastor.

You opened the door and walked into his radio studio.

”Hey Al” you said weakly as the demon spun around and smiled at you “Hello darlin! What do I owe the pleasure?”

You fiddled with your hands.

”I want to tell you why I came to the hotel”

Alastor quirked a eyebrow, smile widening as he gestured for you to take a seat on the couch.

”Do entertain me of your tale my dear”

You were in tears by the time you finished telling Alastor everything.

Of Vox and his plan.

The deal between you and Vox.

The reason you came to the hotel.

Everything.

”I-I’m sorry! So so sorry! I-I just didn’t know what to do!

Kill me! I deserve it! J-Just let me say my goodbyes first. I would rather you kill me than Vox! Please!” You cried, hands covering your face as you sobbed.

Alastor had been quiet for the entirety of your confession. He had half a mind to kill you when you told him of your deal with Vox.

The pesky television didn’t know when to mind his business.

His eyes focused on the collar around your neck.

You were Vox’s and by contract, he wasn’t allowed to kill you.

And he wasn’t. No he had grown accustom to the pretty demon who seemed to light the hotel’s halls.

However…he could override Vox’s ownership of your soul.

You flinched when you felt a large hand pat the top of your head. You looked up through teary eyes ay Alastor, who just sported a soft smile.

”Now now my dear don’t you worry. I appreciate that you came to and confided in me. What a good girl you are.” His smile stretched as you sniffled, looking at him with glossy eyes.

”Y-Youre not g-gonna k-kill me?” You asked looking down.

He chuckled as he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, claws finding their way under your chin to make you look at him

He rolled his eyes ”Oooh my dear of course not…” His fingers trailed down your neck, toying with your collar. “But I am in a bit of predicament”

You wiped at your eyes “how so?”

“Under normal circumstances, I would rip you to shreds and broadcast your screams for all of Hell to hear” his pupils turned to dials and his smiled turned wicked. You felt your heart stop a little.

He calmed down slightly “however I have another idea to break your deal with Vox”

He smiled at you as you tilted your head in confusion.

”I know just the thing hehehe”

————————————————————————————

You whimpered as you tried to hold yourself up against the force of Alastor’s thrusts. “A-Al!” You whined as the demon tugged your hair to pull your body into his. A deep growl vibrated through you as Alastor sunk into your weeping heat, his cock hitting that soft spot inside you.

“Fuuuucckk!” You hissed, eyes rolling into your skull as your body buzzed with pleasure.

Alastor pulled your body til your back was flushed against his chest, his sharp teeth nipped at your skin before latching on and marking you. You winced as his tongue lapped at the blood, he purred as trailed his tongue up your neck.

”To think Vox had such a sweet cunt all to himself. Ooh darlin you’re wasted on him. But you’ll be a good girl for me wont you? You seem to love having a real cock fucking you” he chortled, giving you a harsh thrust. His hips grinded up into your ass, coaxing your cunt to take every inch over and over.

Your gummy walls tightened around him as you whined at his words. You could barely focus on what he was saying, not giving two shits either as he bullied your insides.

”I-I can be a good girl please please oh fuck! Aah! Aah!” You whined. Alastor’s large hands trailed up your body; kneading, pawing, and squeezing at your supple flesh. Pausing at your bouncing tits to tweak your hardened nipples, sending currents to your abandoned clit.

“I know you will baby”

He nudges his head into yours, to gain your attention and capture your lips with his, swallowing your moans as one of his hands moves down to toy with your puffy clit.

Your body jerked as he rubbed tight circles on the bud; your cunt fluttering as slick dripped down your thighs.

”Ill make a deal with you darlin” he whispered against your lips, lidded eyes staring into yours, as you mewled, wanting his tongue back down your throat.

“I keep this little mishap under wraps and in return you belong to me. Youre free to do whatever your heart but im no pushover m,a cherie.”

His thrusts sped up as he pinched your clit.

You keened, pushing your hips back into his, trying to follow the motion of his fingers, seeking to reach your orgasm.

”Do we have a deal?” He purred never breaking his pace.

Your collar let out blue sparks, Vox’s way of ‘reinforcing’ his control over you. You whimpered as the shocks edged you, but Alastor let out a deep growl as he wrapped his claws around the collar.

”Do we have a deal?” A snap of his hips pulled a moan from your throat.

”oh! Yes! Yes! F-fuuuc-cckk”

Static ran through your body causing you to jerk as your orgasm washed over you, your collar fizzled out as Alastor’s cock pounded your cunt, riding your orgasm out.

The wet SQUELCH! Of your cunt echoed as high pitched whines left your throat.

“That’s a good girl. Cummin all over my cock. Feels better than that robot huh? Yeeesss fuck! Take my cum darlin take it”

Your eyes crossed as your mouth opened in a scream. Alastor crashed his lips on yours, tongue pushing through your lips and pulling you into a heated kiss as he pumped you full of his cum.

Alastor let out a sigh as he slipped out of you, cock coated in creamy essence and smiling as he watched your cunt clench around nothing and dripping cum.

In your dazed state, you faintly heard a snap and a cool sensation coated your neck.

Instead of the sapphire jeweled collar, a gold chained ruby hung from your neck.

Alastor hummed as he rubbed your tired body, smiling wickedly as he slotted back into your soppy heat. You moaned softly as he rolled his hips against you.

”now lets send that mediocre podcast a proper video”

#hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #alastor #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel fanfiction #jyoongim #alastor the radio demon #alastor x y/n #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor smut #vox hazbin hotel #sir pentious

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thelikesoffinn · 7 months

Text

„Astarion ending as the Vampire Ascendant is the correct ending for him, because it is what he wants.”

That is a claim I’ve been seeing pop up more and more often these days. And I think it’s both a very bold and a very odd claim to make.

But first things first: Hello, I’m a licensed social worker! So far, I’ve worked with children, refugees and youths with behavioural issues stemming from bullying and or abuse.

Please be aware that I will be mentioning different kinds of abuse, coping mechanisms, and victim/abuser relationships. If any of this is difficult for you, don’t force yourself through it. My jabbering about a traumatised vampire is not worth your wellbeing, not ever.

I will, however try to stick to Astarion and not use other examples. If, in any case, I do use a non-Astarion example, I’ll add a warning beforehand so that you can skip the part. And I’ll make it clear what will be discussed in the next bit, so that you have a chance to skip it entirely.

This is an effort to make this as accessible as possible for everyone that wants to indulge on a mad woman’s rambling – and I know there’s a few people that like this sort of stuff!

And, uh, there's obviously spoilers for all three acts. Serious spoilers, even.

Before I can get into the whole ‘why Astarion didn’t really want to ascend,’ we need to understand him a little more. And to understand this pretty boy’s brain, we first need to understand the gist of what we’re talking about when we throw around the word ‘abuse.’

“Abuse” is when someone is treated with cruelty, violence, or neglect – often to bad effect – on a regular basis. Repetitively. Check’s out for Astarion, I’d say, but we all knew that already. I mean, if one thing was obvious, it was this.

1. Astarions Abuse

Next we need to look at what kind of abuse Astarion faced over his long years of torment, seeing as different types of abuse will have different effects on the victim.

Not that that is anything we have to worry about with him – Astarion won the abuse lottery, to put it bluntly. In a horrible game of fate, he got everything. He himself indirectly mentions all the types of abuse he faced, albeit never using the correct terms.

The first we properly notice – fitting, seeing as it is often the most obvious form of abuse – is the physical abuse. Astarions scars are probably the biggest tell Larian could shove down our throats, only underlined by Astarion’s tale about the night itself. About how Cazador ‘misspelled something’ every time he flinched or screamed and had to do ‘many corrections. On top of this, Cazador locked Astarion up for months on end and tortured him – or had him tortured – on a regular basis both as a rite and as a punishment.

Next up, we have the fact that Astarion was forced to basically prostitute himself repeatedly. This is what we call sexual exploitation.

“I spent two hundred years using my body to lure pretty things back for my Master.” – Act 2

Two hundred years is a long time, filled with great many people. Now, we don’t know how many of those people actually tapped into the sexual exploitation and how many he could just lure back with other means, but the fact that it happened a lot is undeniable.

Next we have a form of abuse that we often disregard in adults: Neglect. It sounds odd, I know, saying that a fully grown adult was neglected. They can care for themselves, can they not?

Well. Yes and no.

Adult neglect is proceeded by the condition that one adult has to lean on another adult to fulfil their needs for whatever reason. This could be anything, from disability to income-based issues.

Seeing as Astarion had absolutely nothing, while Cazador had everything, we can assume this was the case. Cazador had the house, the money, the power. Astarion owns but one pair of clothes, assumedly, that he has fixes over and over again. Fair to say, that’s pretty neglectful. (And it’s one more reason to shower the guy in pretty armour and camp clothes. Go ham, people.)

Last we have the form of abuse we actually get to witness later in the game – emotional abuse.

Once again, it’s undeniable that this happened. Especially since we’re all seeing it in the flesh upon meeting Cazador in his crypt.

“Have you no respect for yourself?”

“I strove for perfection in all things. Even those as imperfect as you.”

“A pity you amounted to so little, despite my efforts.”

“A pathetic little boy who never amounted to anything.”

All Act 3, Crypt

Here we have just a few examples of things Cazador throws in his face. It’s like reading a textbook on emotional abuse, this one (and it’s definitely a reason to throw hands).

Blaming the victim, keeping their sense of self and their self-worth as tiny as possible to make them cower and flee. A true classic.

This pretty much shows that Astarion suffered all forms of abuse we commonly see and it is implied – once again by Astarion himself – that at least a few of those instances were ritualistic.

Now, what does that mean exactly? Well, I fear I need to use a real example here, so please skip the next paragraph.

Ritualistic doesn’t refer to a proper ritual – it can, but that’s mostly a thing for those in a cult. So, we’re not necessarily talking about a ‘Vampire Ascendent Ritual’. A husband, beating his wife every evening after his third bottle of beer is also called ritual abuse. It happens regularly. It is part of a routine. Both parties know what will happen.

I can’t find the exact quote, so I’m working of my memory here, but at one point he said that when Cazador invited him to eat and he said yes, he would be served a putrid rat. If he said no, he’d be beaten.

The way it was phrased made it clear that it happened more than once and that Astarion clearly knew what would happen. So, this can be classified as ritualistic abuse.

2. A Note on Conditioning and Compliance

By default, abuse victims are conditioned to behave a certain way or in a certain fashion. This is a natural response to avoid further abuse.

In Astarion, the thing we see most often is his inherent need to please. Not literally, he doesn’t mind being an arsehole. But he initially feels the need to follow Tav’s orders, even if they go against his own wishes.

This can be clearly seen in the conversation with Araj Oblodra. Astarion very clearly doesn’t want to bite her. He doesn’t. But he will do so, if Tav tells him to. This behaviour is not conscious – he doesn’t know why he does it, he just does – and it is to be expected. This is how he kept himself save for two centuries, so of course he will fall back into his usual pattern when the pressure is high.

This goes hand in hand with the fact that most abuse victims don’t fight. Maybe initially, but not after long term abuse. Especially not after two fucking centuries.

This is true in Astarion – offered by his ‘siblings’ during act 3 and unhappily acquiesced by the man himself. Astarion stopped fighting and, once again implied, cowered, and did as he was told in order to survive.

3. The Astarion we know and love

Obviously, all that abuse does have an impact on our vampire boyfriend. He shows various common signs of abuse and just like with the forms of abuse, Astarion raked every coping mechanism he could find. (Not really, but it feels like it.) It’s also important to note that nearly all of the following things happen inwardly. Astarion is not one of the victims, that tries to rationalise and minimise the actions of his abuser. Quite the opposite, actually.

I’ll note from the beginning, that rationalisation will not be covered in this bit, as most examples will be important later on. But he definitely does it.

One of his biggest skills is to hide every ounce of fear or hurt behind sarcasm and snarky theatrics. He doesn’t seem to hide his anger much, though, so that’s something! Our boy is cool with anger, not so much with being afraid.

“Ahahaha, now that you mention it….I might have done…that.” – Act 3, regarding the Gur children

“The thing that will decide my fate forever more? Yeees, it’s been on my miiiind. Why?” – Act 2, regarding the Ritual

And there’s many more instances that prove this. Honestly, half his dialogue is sarcasm, so it would really be too long to get into and we all know what I mean, right? We have alltalked to the guy before. It’s obvious that he’s sarcastic to a fault.

This goes hand in hand with his penchant for defensiveness. I would personally state that he’s simply not really good with guilt. When talking about fear, he usually just opts for sarcasm or avoids the topic completely, but guilt especially has his defences going up. This is also when he’s most likely to shove all the blame off to Cazador.

“Don’t look at me like that. Cazadors orders.” – Act 3, Crypt

“I just did what I had to!” – Act 3, Crypt

And don’t get me wrong, he does that anyway. And with good reason. Astarion didn’t have a choice for the most part, but he’s still easy to shove things off.

This kind of connects to his penchant for denial.

Astarion doesn’t really like to talk about most things. He firmly believes he is an ‘action’ sort of person that just does instead of plans, which invertedly just means he’s great at pushing the thinking stuff away. He also likes to get rid of stuff, so that he doesn’t need to face it ever again.

“I never want to see these little scraps of misery again. The world doesn’t need to know my shame.” – Act 3, about the children

And yes, this partly rings true. He’s probably ashamed and doesn’t want anyone to know what he’s done. But it’s also very clear that he himself simply doesn’t want to face his own actions, something that is just underlined by his extreme willingness to red rid of the other spawn.

As mentioned by Astarion himself, he’s big on manipulation. I mean, I don’t think there is much explaining necessary. The guy is willing to do a whole lot in order to get what he desires – which mostly revolves around safety and survival, to be honest – and he’s not really shy about it either. And that’s despite the fact that he doesn’t really like intimacy – especially in form of sex.

It’s not a secret that Astarion is not big on sex and anything surrounding it. This goes far enough for people to consider him either ace or ace coded.

A claim that, personally, I’m not super in line with.

Now, it’s not entirely wrong and if this is your head cannon I’m surely not going to stand in your way – but on a larger spectrum, I think he’s more traumatised than ace. And while those go hand in hand sometimes, it’s a bit difficult for the ace community if you attach traumatised characters to them because it can fuel a whole lot of stigma that is honestly neither needed nor wanted. But I digress!

If it comes to his own behaviour, he’s great at minimising his mistakes. Honestly, he’s a master of minimisation. A very obvious and famous example would be:

“’Killed’ feels like a…strong word. Not many corpses have your vigour.” – Act 1, after killing Tav

Astarion. You literally sucked poor Tav dry and left them flopping around, cold, and dead. Killed is exactly the right word and we all know it.

“Quite the deviation from my usual routine. Capture, not lure. I didn’t bring them in with sweet rolls or anything.” – Act 3, Gur Children

This is another attempt at minimising what he did, if a bit less obvious because at this point there isn’t much he can say. But at least he didn’t sexualise the gur children, right? They’re still spawn but whoo, at least that didn’t happen.

The next point would be dissociation, which is extremely common in abuse victims – of all forms of abuse.

Astarion himself mentioned certain moments that could be classified as dissociation over course of the story, which is probably the coping mechanism I personally expected the most.

The pale elf has a penchant for violence, but he’s not entirely shameless or abhorrently vile, which gets clearer the more the story progresses. So, two hundred years of forced prostitution, torture and doing whatever other horrible things? Yeah, I’d be more surprised if he didn’t dissociate.

Examples of that would be:

“A moment of disgust to push myself through and then I could’ve carried on, just like before.” – Act 2, after Araj

“I felt nothing the moment I handed them over.” – Act 3, Gur Children

“Did you enjoy it? It felt like you weren’t fully there.” – Act 1, Tav after Sex

The latter is generally more of an assumption than actual prove, but with context it does make sense.

The last common sign of abuse we find in our boyfriend would be his low self-worth. It’s a consistent trait that stays over the course of all three acts, noticeable in many different conversations.

We can see it in his reaction to wanting to break up before finishing his story. We can see it in his genuine surprise when Tav picks him over any of the other characters. We see it in his insecurity whenever Tav asks to sleep with another character. He’s fine with it, but he still worries their decision to sleep with someone else is based on something he did.

It eases up ever so slightly after Cazador is dead, but even then he’s still struggling which is once again perfectly illustrated if you try to break up with him.

“Oh shit. I- Did I do something wrong?”

That is the first thing he asks and I think it speaks for itself. He genuinely doesn’t believe he has much to offer and for Astarion, it’s likely that Astarion will always be the problem.

4. "Oh, I tried them all none of them answered.”

Another big thing that’s important to note, is that Astarion was never saved. No one came to save him from Cazador. There was no darling boy on a white steed riding into that castle to rescue him and princess carry him away. Not even the gods answered his desperate calls.

So, he never received any kindness or luck. To him, the world seems as cruel and horrid as before because he didn’t have the chance to experience goodness in two centuries.

But worse than that, he didn’t even get to save himself. Astarion didn’t stand up to Cazador, he didn’t run out of his own might.

He was beaten to near death and ‘saved’ by Cazador, who would become his abuser.

He tried to save someone and, in turn, was locked up and starved for an entire year.

He was abducted by mind flayers, i.e., saved from Cazador, only to end up tadpoled and on the cusp of getting a fancy, squiddy beard.

Anything that’s good, any kindness, any selfless action…it all came with a ginormous price tag.

5. Over the Course of the Story

Astarions behaviour changes a whole lot over the course of three acts – which is important once we talk about his quests climax – so let’s review what we’re working with!

Act 1 Astarion is guarded as fuck. The man has walls around him that are so high, even the gods can touch them.

A lot of his behaviour in act 1 revolves around staying save and staying liked. He lies, manipulates, and flutters his lashes in order to get what he wants and needs. Instead of asking, like Wyll, Karlach and Gale do, Astarion uses all he has to offer to get by. He is still very much in survival mode and tries to weasel his way through an unfamiliar situation with familiar methods.

On top of that, and most notably, he’s absolutely not fond of kindness or selflessness.

#I saved a child and now my boyfriend is mad

Here, we are most likely to gain disapproval for doing the decent thing – unless you sent him outside for a minute whenever you’re being a good person.

And I’d assume that this is because of two things.

First: The very traditional ‘Why not me?’

As I mentioned before, Astarion wasn’t saved. He hasn’t experienced kindness in a very long time so seeing that the world is literally filled with kind people is hurtful. Why didn’t anyone save him? Why was he left to his own devices for so long? Why should he care about others when it’s so clear that no one ever cared about him? No, dead to all of them. If he didn’t get it, neither will they.

“And what am I owed? What about the injustices I suffered? Am I not entitled to anything?” – Act 3, Crypt

“I was in the prime of my life when I was turned. Everything was taken from me too.” – Act 3, Crypt

And secondly is the fact that, as I mentioned, goodness always has a price. And it’s one most people won’t be willing to pay. That’s how his life has been, so why would theirs be different?

This is precisely why Astarion may disapprove of kind actions, but he mostly neither approves nor disapproves if Tav asks for payment. That’s just how the world works.

Once you venture out into act 2, after getting to know him a whole lot more, he starts to mellow a bit – if only towards Tav.

“He’s afraid, so afraid, of everyone but you, who she should fear the most.” – Sceleritas about Astarion

His approval is a lot easier to gain – or at least keep! – and he tends to approve of some more proper actions. He doesn’t throw a fit if you promise to find Mol, he approves of Tav being kind to His Majesty, of saving Aylin and he even approves of Durge apologising to Isobel after threatening to rip her to pieces.

He's slowly starting to open up, allowing Tav to see some parts of him he previously kept hidden. He accepts their offer to help, if hesitantly and, by god, the man starts experimenting with boundaries.

The social worker in me is shedding tears at this. It’s my favourite thing to see in my clients and it’s no different here. Yay to saying no!

Of course, it’s still a bit hit or miss. If Tav urges him to bite Araj, for example, he will only to later notice that he didn’t fucking have to. He recognises this on his own and he calls Tav out on it. Just like he calls them out on not helping him with his Orthon quest.

Good job, chap. Good fucking job.

And the growth-train won’t stop going even as we reach act 3.

In act 3, there’s not many things he disapproves as of right now – those he does, mostly have to do with how Tav treats him and not with anyone else. In fact, he’s more likely to approve good behaviour now, like giving Yenna food or money.

And yes, we need to consider that this could simply be because he gets used to Tav’s behaviour and just learns to roll with it. But it’s also highly likely that he notices that there’s truly good people around. At least one person. And that person is not only good, no, they’re in the process of helping him break free once and for all.

They’re helping him save himself.

By act 3, he has learned that he can absolutely say his piece where Tav is concerned and he’s more likely to disagree with them on certain things. It’s seen during a lot of small dialogue that he’s no longer terribly afraid to be honest with them, willing to listen and talk and he’ll ask for help if he needs it.

“I can do this. But I need your help.” – Act 3, Crypt

Something that can be viewed both positively and negatively is that he’s definitely loyal to a fault. He will stick by Tav’s side, no matter what.

“I really hoped we could avoid being pawns for a dark god, but here we are, I suppose. I’m with you, my dear, wherever this might lead.” – Act 3, After Jaheira confronts durge

As I said, this can be both positive and negative. On one count, it’s a recipe for disaster, seeing as he could be waltzing into a really bad situation for Tav alone.

But on the other side…this is a man who only cared about himself because that is the only person he could afford to care about. He needed to survive. He now has enough room to breathe and the capacity to care for someone else and I’d be inclined to count that as a good thing.

6. The Crypt

All the progress he made in act 2 and 3 is nearly tossed into the wind as soon as the crew enters Cazadors castle.

It’s not an immediate thing, of course.

At first, Astarion tries to stay light and simple and he hides behind flippant tones and relaxed faces. The way he recounts this is almost comically disinterested and the façade is actually quite good.

It’s start’s cracking after we meet Godie, one of the people who tortured him on more than one account, but he mostly manages to remain as upbeat as one can honestly expect for the first half of the journey.

All that, however, is done for the very moment we meet Sebastian. His mask not only slips, no, it full on shatters and there’s none of his apparent lightness left.

Which, of course it does.

The man is suddenly faced with years and years and years of victims. Innocent, unlucky people he lured back to his master over two centuries. People he liked, people he pitied.

“It’s sickening, seeing them again.”

It’s basically a room filled with guilt, exclusively for Astarion. And, as we mentioned before…Astarion is not great with guilt.

The guilt, however, is not where it ends.

No, he’s also faced with reflections of his own past. The spawn pose as reminders of what he did, sure, but also as reminders of what he was.

Weak, desperate, hungry.

There’s an abundance of images of his worst moments, reflected back at him in the thousands. It’s probably like staring into a funhouse mirror, but instead of seeing yourself in a funky way he just sees everything he so desperately doesn’t want to be.

“It should be [who I am]! I don’t want to be like them. They’re pathetic, horrible…”

He’s forcefully made aware of how darn weak he can be, which claws at all the wounds he’s barely had time to close. Something, he of course won’t admit if asked.

“THEY DO NOT [remind me of myself]. That weakness in me is dead, IT’S DEAD. I have a higher purpose.”

The high pressure of the moment brings out all of his act 1 traits in but a few moments. You can pretty much watch how he starts to shut down mid conversation, one of his old walls snapping back into place to remove himself from the situation.

Thing is though, walls usually become a bit brittle after disuse. Especially when talking to a person you don’t usually want to wall out.

Or, in his case, when talking to Tav.

After meeting Sebastian, Astarion shows extreme reactions to Tav nudging any of his weak spots. His reaction varies on whatever choice you make, but it ranges from aggression to defensiveness, to denial and even to downright begging Tav.

“Don’t hate me. I just did what I had to. I swear I did what I had to.”

This probably the most shocking out of all of them, since that is not something we got to witness before. The begging is likely a mixture of intense fear of losing Tav, his low self-esteem and pre-Tav behaviour, since we can assume that Cazador made him beg more than once.

Another old coat he puts back on would also be the least surprising of them all.

Manipulation.

He falls right back into it, using Tav’s affection to get what he want if we trigger the right action.

“If they die and I ascend, I won't have to rely on the parasite to walk in the sun. I'll be free. Truly completely free. Isn't that what you want?”

This, to me, was probably the biggest tell that Astarion was back in survival mode. He’s panicking, for fucks sake, and who can blame the guy? He’s back. He’s about to face down his abuser.

Of course he’s fucking panicking.

Panic leads to an increased craving for safety and, in his case, power. This is why he clings to Tav, why he begs them to love him still. And this is why he jumps head first into the rationalisation pool.

“I will need to sacrifice them all if I want to perform the ritual. - [You can save them.] – What’s the point? They're as good as dead! I thought they were dead. If they are unleashed, they will cause incredible carnage. […] They must die. Better they serve a purpose.”

Another textbook example.

They must die anyway. They’re basically dead. No need to save them now. They’re dangerous, I’m doing the right thing by sacrificing them. I already thought they were dead, so it’s not changing anything for me. They’re a lost cause and I deserve all this power. I deserve it, because I suffered and nothing will change if they die.

So, seeing as we already spoke about his usual behaviour in act 3 – behaviour he showed after we allowed him to breathe and be himself for a while – I think we can fairly easily conclude he’s not thinking straight.

Astarion is right back in survival mode, where all that matters is he himself. If it weren’t for the seven thousand spawns, he might have moved through this more gracefully, but seeing those tipped the scales and Astarion is absolutely losing it.

Remember that for the last section, per favore.

7. The Ascension

“Astarion wants to ascend and Tav manipulates him into doing what they want.”

That is basically the essence of what people often claim and I can’t help but shake my head at such a blatant disregard of everything he has become. This is completely ignoring the change and growth he has gone through over the course of their journey.

Astarion wants to be free. He wants to be safe. That does not mean he wants to ascend.

And the claim that Tav manipulates him into doing anything is even more baffling. We are all aware that Tav is not manipulative by nature, yes? That is entirely on you. You decide who your Tav is.

And then let’s remember: Astarion is panicked. He’s afraid and he’s not thinking straight. His abuser is on his knees before him and he still feels so weak. And there’s seven thousand spawns that need handling.

Astarion is very much not okay right now.

In fact, reading his thoughts just proves this theory.

“You can see the fear in his eyes but also the hunger. The thick smell of blood in the air and the promise of power being so close is intoxicating to him. All he can see is the power of the ritual and the freedom that power brings. The freedom to do anything. To be anything.”

Tav, however, has none of those problems. They can actually see beyond the current situation and they are fully aware what the consequences are. Astarion is not. As we previously established, Astarion is a doer. Not a thinker. He didn’t think this through, not at all.

The only thing Tav is doing – the persuasion roll – is reminding him of the very real consequences he is facing. The consequences he hasn’t thought about before.

"I know you think this will set you free, but it won't. This power will trap you, just like it trapped Cazador."

And that is the kindest thing Tav could do in this situation. They’re not bodily dragging him away from Cazador. They’re not even telling him to not do it. They’re just offering him the truth. He can do with that information whatever he desires.

“Astarion cries when he doesn’t ascend, that just shows that it was the wrong choice.”

A hare-brained point that I thankfully have only seen once so far.

That crying? That is healthy crying.

That is him, crumbling under the stress that suddenly dissipates. That is him mourning two hundred years of torment. That’s him letting out feelings he hasn’t been able to for centuries.

And, for the love of god, try to put yourself in his shoes.

Two hundred years of torment, ended in but a moment.

Astarion was abused and tortured for so long, afraid for so long only to see his tormentor die just like that.

Cazador died within a moment and all Astarion needed was a darn blade. Of course he fucking cries.

Seeing how pathetic a being the very core of your life’s misery actually is hurts. It hurts like hell because not only are you finally free – free! – no, you’re faced with the fact that this pile of nothing, the thing that’s bleeding out right in front of you…this was what tortured for so long.

This thing hurt you so much. That guy took everything from you, everything you once were, and broke it again and again and again over years.

You were so scared of this thing.

And yet he has the gall and the gumption to die just like that.

It was so easy.

And yet you suffered for so long.

8. Evil Playthrough?

An evil playthrough is really a different setting altogether.

All of this, as you can probably tell, is really only applicable on a good playthrough. Realistically speaking. I’m not sure how the game mechanics handle it.

On an evil path, Astarion never really gets to experience kindness and goodness. Evil Tav will just prove him right in his believe that the world is a vile and cold place, meaning that he realistically would be more inclined to actually want to ascend.

9. Final Conclusion

I think all of this should be enough to make it clear that no, ascended Astarion is not the best ending for the guy. In fact, it is probably the worst. Because it’s just him, running away. He’s running into a lonely and cold state of being, where cruelty and power lord over everything else and he’s running because he’s terrified of being hurt again. He’s running despite desperately wanting to stop running.

“I'll spend the rest of my life running watching the shadows, never feeling safe…no, this has to happen. Here and now.”

And, the worst part is: Nothing about Astarion is left after he ascends. Even his tone of speaking gradually changes, his theatrics fading. He’s slowly losing himself, until there’s nothing but an evil caricature left.

So, in the end, ascension will have proven him right.

That version of him is dead.

#baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 #baldur's gate #baldurs gate #bg3 #astarion #the dark urge #tav #astarion romance #astarion ancunin #astarion and tav #bg3 act 1 #bg3 act 2 #bg3 act 3 #act 3 #act 2 #act 1 #araj oblodra

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solarmorrigan · 5 months

Note

For the angst prompt thing: Steddie and "Don't fucking touch me."

Hello! Thank you very much for sending a prompt, I'm sorry it took me so long to post, but I do think this one is my favorite out of all the fills I've done for this prompt list <3

[No warnings; Unnamed Freak (who apparently got a name in the most recent novel, but I didn't know that at the time) is named Oliver]

Angsty-ish Prompt List

“I’m gonna step outside for a minute,” Steve leans in to murmur in Eddie’s ear, even though the music isn’t that loud.

“Yeah, sounds good.” Eddie nods, and only just keeps himself from turning to catch Steve’s mouth in a kiss when he feels the brush of his lips against his ear; it’s not his fault he’s developed some kind of Pavlovian association between having Steve’s mouth anywhere near his skin and receiving kisses – but they do have company.

Said company is just Gareth, Jeff, and Oliver, but still. Eddie has some decorum.

Steve stands from the couch and the arm he’d had slung around Eddie’s shoulders slides away slowly, his hand brushing warm and heavy over the back of Eddie’s neck, thumb stroking once, familiarly, along the side of his throat before disappearing entirely as Steve moves towards the front door. He doesn’t do so great with groups of people in small spaces anymore; the noise gets to him, and the heat generated by so many bodies in close proximity tends to give him a headache, so he takes breaks now and then, just to give his brain a few minutes to unbend.

The door swings open on silent hinges (Steve had attacked it with a can of WD-40 and a look of determination earlier today, insisting he couldn’t stand the squeaking anymore; he’s always doing things like that around the house – little repairs, organizing, picking things up, even though Eddie insists he doesn’t have to. He says he wants to, the endearing little weirdo) and Steve steps out into the cool evening, leaving Eddie and the boys behind in the warm light of the trailer’s main room.

“So,” Jeff says, looking up from his spot on the floor and gesturing vaguely at Eddie with his beer can, “how’s that going for you guys?”

Eddie blinks at him. “How’s what going?”

“The whole thing between you two,” Jeff clarifies, and Eddie raises a skeptical brow at him.

“You wanna talk about me and Steve having sex?” Eddie asks.

Jeff’s nose scrunches in distaste. “What? No.”

“Not ever,” Gareth jumps in.

“I mean…” Oliver says with a shrug, flinching when Gareth pelts him with a balled-up napkin.

“No,” Gareth reiterates.

“I refuse to apologize for simple curiosity,” Oliver sniffs, and Eddie, seated next to him on the couch, gives him a shove.

He’s glad his friends are accepting – supportive, even (he’d like to say he wouldn’t hang out with them if they weren’t, but let’s be real: nerds could be hard to come by in their neck of the woods, and as long as they were the quiet type of homophobic, Eddie would probably still play D&D with them. But he’s glad they’re not), but he does have some boundaries.

Like, one or two, maybe.

“I just meant the whole… dating thing,” Jeff says, taking a sip from his beer. “Because I’ll be honest, I really didn’t see it at first, but it actually seems to be working out.”

“Dating?” Eddie parrots blankly.

“Yeah. You guys are in, like, some kind of never-ending honeymoon phase or some shit,” Gareth says. “Hasn’t it been over two months?”

“Uhhh, no, I think you gentlemen are confused,” Eddie drawls. “Steve and I are not dating.”

This declaration is met with a moment of silence.

“Seriously?” Oliver finally says.

“Yep,” Eddie replies easily. “No relationship shit here. Strictly a friends-with-benefits-type deal.”

“Seriously,” Olver says again, flatly this time.

“Yes, Oliver, seriously,” Eddie huffs, reaching over to give him another shove, only to have his hand pushed away.

“Eddie, he was practically sitting in your lap just now,” Jeff says. “You two are all over each other.”

“Constantly,” Gareth adds.

Eddie shrugs. “It’s not like this is a big couch; we gotta squish. Anyway, Steve’s just a touchy kind of guy.”

“He doesn’t sit like that with any of us,” Gareth points out.

“Yeah, well, you guys aren’t the ones receiving benefits,” Eddie says. “You want him to sit on your lap? You could ask.”

Gareth lets his head hang back with a noise of frustration. “That’s not the point, and you know it.”

“Don’t you two go on dates?” Jeff asks. “I’ve seen you at the movies. You talk about going out to eat, doing other shit…”

“Yeah, see, that’s the friends part of friends with benefits,” Eddie snarks. “Friends hang out sometimes, I’ve been told. We are all, in fact, hanging out right now, but that doesn’t mean I’m dating any of you.”

“You don’t see the way he looks at you?” Oliver asks, and Eddie can’t help but scoff.

He appreciates the fact that Oliver is passionate about pretty much anything he does, but it also means he’s given to romanticizing. He doesn’t usually manage to drag Jeff or Gareth in with him, though.

“Pretty sure he looks at me like a friend, because that’s what we are.” Eddie rolls his eyes before offering a smarmy little grin. “I mean, I’m sure he looks at me as an exceptionally attractive friend, but that’s it.”

“Genuinely can’t tell if you’re fucking with us, man,” Jeff says, rolling his eyes.

“Genuinely, I am not,” Eddie promises, taking the last viable swallow from his beer before getting up and heading for the kitchen, wiggling his empty can at the others with a raised eyebrow in question. Gareth raises his own near-empty can with a shrug and Eddie nods. “Look,” he says as he ducks towards the fridge, “Steve isn’t the kinda guy you have a relationship with, anyway, you know?”

Eddie doesn’t mean this in a negative way, just as a matter of fact. Steve just doesn’t seem to be a relationship kind of guy. Nancy had been something of an outlier, in how long she and Steve had lasted, and it had become clear after the dust from the Upside Down had settled that he really doesn’t have any interest in pursuing her further. Just the other day, he’d mentioned to Eddie how difficult relationships can be, and about how glad he is they have their thing together instead.

“Being with you is just… easy,” Steve had said; he hadn’t been looking at Eddie at the time, his face instead pillowed on Eddie’s chest, hair sticking to his naked skin where the sweat was still cooling from their last round, but Eddie could see the edge of a smile on his lips.

And Eddie doesn’t have much experience with relationships himself, but he knows that being friends with Steve is easy and that the sex feels equally easy and that the way he’d agreed with Steve and carded his fingers through his hair had sent Steve right to sleep with that same smile still in place.

Easy.

Now, Eddie shoves his head into the fridge and reaches for the beers that have somehow gotten pushed to the back. “It’s nothing major, okay?” he calls back towards the living room.

“Eddie…” Gareth calls back, an edge to his voice.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m on it.” Eddie waves vaguely, making sure to grab a second beer. “Anyway, Steve’s a good friend, and he’s really hot, and we’re just having fun.”

The bang of the front door against the frame startles Eddie so badly he nearly smacks his head on the underside of the freezer as he stands, a beer clutched in each hand like he might be able to use them as projectiles.

There is no threat, though – just Steve, who had apparently failed to catch the screen door before it had shut too quickly behind him. He doesn’t seem to have noticed; he’s just standing there, staring at Eddie, color rising high in his cheeks, eyes wide and shocked, like he’s just been slapped.

Concern wells up from Eddie’s gut, and he opens to his mouth to ask what’s wrong when Steve finally speaks.

“Yeah,” he croaks, “I’m not having fun.”

Eddie’s brows furrow in confusion, the beginnings of cold dread trickling into his veins well ahead of any conscious thought.

“I think I– I think I should go,” Steve says.

He grabs his keys from the side table by the door, where they’ve lived next to Eddie’s and Wayne’s for the last few months whenever he’s been at the house, and then he’s gone again, the screen door banging shut once more behind him.

And Eddie has no idea what just happened, but he knows it wasn’t good. He drops the beers on the counter and bolts out the door after Steve.

Steve is nearly to his car by the time Eddie scrambles down the front steps, and he’s paying absolutely no attention when Eddie calls after him.

“Steve,” Eddie tries again, stumbling to a stop right behind him as he jams his keys into the driver’s side lock. “Steve, for fuck’s sake, what–” he reaches out, wrapping one hand around Steve’s bicep, and Steve jerks out of his grip.

“Don’t fucking touch me,” Steve snaps.

Eddie pulls his hand back, but doesn’t step away, entirely baffled by the sudden turn the evening has taken. “What the hell happened back there?”

Steve goes still, grip going lax on his keys. “I heard what you said, Eddie.”

“About – about what? Are you mad I was talking to them about us sleeping together? Because, Steve, they already knew,” Eddie insists, a little incredulous. “You said you were fine with them knowing! You were practically feeling me up in front of them!”

“I don’t give a shit if they know we’re having sex!” Steve hisses, finally whirling around to look at Eddie. “I meant the rest. About how I’m not the kind of guy you have a relationship with.”

Eddie’s stomach sinks. He hadn’t realized that was such a sensitive subject. “I – shit, I wasn’t trying to hurt your feelings, I just didn’t think you wanted–”

“About how we’re just having fun,” Steve cuts in, and if he’d sounded raw before, his voice is practically ground down to nothing now.

That brings Eddie up short. “…aren’t we?” he asks after a moment.

Steve says nothing.

“I mean, shit, Steve, it’s not like we’re in a relationship,” Eddie says, offering a little laugh, because even Steve would have to admit that the idea is a little silly.

Except.

Except Steve just glances away, staring at the ground beside Eddie’s feet, and – oh, shit.

“Oh, shit.”

Steve is still unnervingly silent, one arm curled around his middle while the other hand comes up to pinch briefly at the bridge of his nose. He still won’t look at Eddie.

“You… you thought we were,” Eddie says dumbly, and Steve shrugs.

“Can you blame me? We spend all our time together, Eddie. I’m here more than I’m at my own house, I think I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve slept in my own bed in the last month. We go out and do things together, I try to keep things nice around the house because I want Wayne to like me, we have, like, a lot of sex, and– we… I mean, we kiss and touch and just – do shit like that even when it doesn’t lead anywhere.” Steve shrugs helplessly, finally looking up. “I mean, Christ, Eddie, what did you think we were doing?”

“I thought we were friends!” Eddie insists. Steve throws him an incredulous look and Eddie amends, “With benefits!”

“Right.” Steve’s expression flattens back out, going cold and hard and unlike anything Eddie’s become used to from him. “Because I’m not the kind of guy you’d want to have a relationship with.”

“I said that because I thought you didn’t want to be in a relationship!” Eddie snaps. “It’s not like you stay with anyone for very long, so I just assumed you didn’t want to be with anyone.”

Some of the ice retreats from Steve’s face, leaving a watering kind of hurt in its stead. “Do you listen to me at all when I talk?”

“What? Of course I do!” Eddie might have gotten turned around in certain respects, but he will not have his merits as a friend called into question; of course he listens to Steve.

“Are you sure? Because I talk about you an awful lot. I talk about doing things with you, about doing things in the future with you,” Steve says pointedly, “about how I want to stay with you.”

And Eddie had wanted Steve to stay with him, too. He’s just been thinking – well, he’d thought it was because they get along so well, that Steve had wanted to stick around. That it had only made sense.

“We never talked about… being anything else,” Eddie says, the protest a little weak even to his own ears. “I’m pretty sure I’d remember that.”

Steve pulls a sharp breath in, pinching at the bridge of his nose again; he leaves his hand there this time, eyes scrunched shut. “Just a few days ago, I told you how much I liked being with you. How good and how easy it felt compared to anyone else I’ve ever been with,” he says, barely more than a rough whisper. “And you said…”

I like being with you, too.

Eddie had said that.

He’d meant that he likes being around Steve, likes being his friend, definitely likes having sex with him, but he’d said it while combing his fingers through Steve’s hair, while cuddled up with him in bed, and – okay, yes, he can see the mixed signals there. He can see where Steve might have gotten the idea that they didn’t have an arrangement, that they were just together.

“I– I didn’t mean–”

“Obviously,” Steve snaps, dropping his hand from his face and turning back towards his car.

Eddie tsks, frustrated, and reaches out to grab Steve’s wrist – not pulling, just trying to keep his attention.

“Don’t,” Steve warns him, pulling back from his grasp for a second time.

“I didn’t mean to lead you on,” Eddie tries desperately. “I really… I really didn’t.”

“Yeah. I can see that. But Eddie…” Steve is quiet for a moment, posture so tense and still that Eddie suspects he’s not even breathing. “I’m probably the best-qualified asshole around to tell you that you really have to fucking think about how what you’re doing affects the people around you.”

Somehow, that stings more than any screamed insult Steve could have thrown at him.

“Steve…”

“I’ll come get my shit out of your place tomorrow,” Steve says, low and sharp, before getting into his car and slamming the door behind him.

After that, Eddie has no choice but to step back or get run over, and he watches until Steve’s taillights are no longer visible.

He can hear the hissing of some whispered conversation just beyond the door as he trudges back up the front steps, but his friends fall conspicuously quiet the moment he steps inside.

“…hey,” Gareth finally ventures after several seconds of awkward, sticky silence.

“Hey,” Eddie says flatly.

“Do you… want us to stay?” Jeff asks.

Slowly, Eddie shakes his head. “I think I should… I need to– think about shit.”

The boys all nod, throwing him variously sympathetic glances and clapping him on the shoulder on their way out. Oliver pauses, as if he’s going to say something, but Gareth gives him a shove and gets him out the door before he has the chance. Probably for the best.

Eddie feels numb as he trudges back towards his room, trying to figure out what the hell had just happened.

He flops down on his bed, face landing in a pillow that smells entirely too much like Steve’s shampoo. Probably because it’s on the side of the bed that Steve always takes. Next to the nightstand with the small stack of sports magazines that definitely aren’t Eddie’s. And the spare pair of glasses that also isn’t Eddie’s.

With a low tug in his gut, Eddie realizes how much of Steve’s stuff has crept into his room, into the trailer, into his life – how much Steve has become a part of his life, how much of Eddie’s day has been built around him, how much he’s come to lean on his presence, has come to want him there.

And Steve is going to take it all back sometime soon. Take all of his things away before he removes himself from Eddie’s life, too, because Eddie hadn’t been thinking and he hadn’t been careful and he hadn’t realized–

Eddie’s pretty sure he just broke up with Steve.

He’s also pretty sure he hadn’t wanted to.

His main consolation, as he curls up on his side, nose still buried in Steve’s pillow, is that as soon as Robin hears what happened (and she will hear, he has no doubt), she’ll probably come murder him.

At least he won’t have to wallow for long.

Part 2

#steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things #smallspaceplant #eddiesteve #listen Steve is u-haul lesbian flavored and Eddie is I know we're married but do you like me? lesbian flavored - you feel?#anyway I shouldn't be allowed to use tags on less than six hours of sleep!#answers from solar #solar wrote #hurt no comfort #edit: now with a continuation that will eventually include comfort

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l13 · 10 months

Text

bitter

dunno what brought this on but reader has good taste;P also let's pretend that lyla is team reader x miguel for plot reasons

word count: 2.3k

WARNINGS: NSFW 18+, MDNI, f!reader, ex!miguel, aged up bf!hobie<3, miguel has some v descriptive sexual thoughts about you (p in v sex, f!receiving oral), swearing, jealousy, ANGSTTT

English is not my first language so I apologize in advance for any misspells, errors or grammatically incorrect sentences.

Miguel often thinks about how he ended up giving in to his desires and starting a situationship with you, how he regrets it when he can tell how you've fallen for him. How your eyes crinkle when you smile at him, looking at him like he hung the moon. He regrets it because that's how he looks at you as well.

Why’d you have to ask him on that stupid date?

“That’d be unprofessional.” is what Miguel had said in reply. Because it was the truth. You were only fucking, nothing more.

You’d scoffed, “Oh come on, Miguel, we’re not office workers. Surely we can go out together?”

“What, fucking me ain’t enough for you?”

You'd huffed, your expression dull, shaking your head in disbelief, “No, actually, it isn’t. I genuinely like you, is that so bad?”

Miguel had ignored the flip his stomach did at your confession “You know why we can’t, now drop it.”

“No, I want you to tell me why.”

“It’s not in the canon” He cringes every time he remembers what he’d said, but it doesn’t change the fact that he was right. He was, but fuck, how he wanted to be wrong. He so desperately wanted it to be him that you were meant to fall in love with, him you were meant to build a life together.

“Fuck the canon.” had been your reply, before you turned to walk away and he'd made no move to follow you.

He'd failed to ignore Lyla when she'd whistled, “That was painful even for me,”

“Jesus- can you not?”

“Yeah, yeah, I know, can't interrupt your brooding time. I'm just saying. You prevented the woman of your dreams from falling in love with you, because she's meant to fall for someone else? But that's stupid- Your heart literally jumps when you see her-”

“Lyla I swear to God, if you don't stop talking-”

And now, as he stands in front of your house months later, waiting for you to answer the door, Miguel found himself to be annoyed. Annoyed that he hadn't gotten your mission report on time, and had to come and fetch it for himself.

Some sick, twisted part of his brain wanted you to have forgotten it on purpose, and ignored his calls in order for him to come over, maybe reconcile- fuck your brains out till you're begging him to take you back, even if it meant putting your feelings aside.

“She better be home,” Miguel hisses to himself, his hand massaging his temples, and he doesn't even flinch when Lyla shows up out of nowhere “Oh, she is. The thermal scan picks her up, see? Wait who’s-”

Miguel was thankful for the interruption, but what he saw when you opened the door was not at all what he expected, or was even prepared for.

You were practically naked, an oversized t-shirt covering your body, stopping just under your ass and- Jesus Christ were those thigh highs? Yes they were, pretty ones, too. They were sheer white tights, that ended just in the middle of your plush thighs, the material hugging your legs beautifully, the very top of them decorated with a lace material, giving them a sexy twist.

God, he'd get on his knees right here and now if you just asked-Miguel licked his lips and cleared his throat, quickly averting his gaze, praying that he doesn't appear flustered.

“Miguel! Are you okay? Is something wrong? Hey Lyla-” you seem out of breath as you talk, clearly not bothered by your lack of clothing in front of him. Lyla offers you a bright hello and wave, one you softly smile at.

No, he's not fucking okay.

“I'm great.” he hisses, but really he was trying to convince himself of it. You study him for a bit longer before humming, not believing him for a moment.

“I need the report from the mission that you were sent to do yesterday. The one you forgot to send me.” Miguel inhales sharply and stands taller, trying to hide the fact that your presence damages his brain functionality severely, by trying to look more intimidating.

Memories of last night flash in your mind suddenly, being pressed against your bookshelf, the furniture rattling loudly, books almost toppling to the floor, but you didn’t have the heart in you to care. Not when he was grinding up at you, hand under your thigh to keep you upright as you moaned against his mouth crossing your legs around his waist and bringing him closer, the sound of your watch beeping pulling you out of your trance, “Fuck, wait. T-the reports-”

He undid your watch expertly with one hand, and you gasped trying to snatch it from his grasp, but he held it up above your head, placing it on top of your bookshelf carelessly, before grabbing the top shelf to brace himself and grind himself harder against you, moaning under his breath, “Fuck ‘em.”

Your eyes widen comically, and you sputter, “Right! Shit- fuck. I'm sorry, umm, wait here.” and you slam the door right in his face. Miguel's eyebrow twitches.

There's shuffling from inside before Miguel realizes that you're talking to someone-

“Can you go in five minutes? Please?”

“Nah, ‘m afraid I need to go right now, love. Got things to do, places to be.”

“Can't you open up a portal here?”

“When there’s a perfectly usable front door? I don’ think so,” “C’mon pretty.. what are y’so afraid of?”

“He’s our boss.”

“He’s your ex. Now, if you’re ashamed to be seen with me, I get it-”

“No! Baby, no. I just don’t want to rub it in his face, don't want him to think that I am either,”

“But that’s so boring. Let’s make ‘im suffer, you’ll thank me later-”

“Hob-”

The door opens suddenly and Miguel could act surprised, could act like he’s been waiting for quite a while not knowing what’s going on inside, but he doesn’t. Not when he’s face to face with Hobie. Not when he obviously knows how good Miguel’s hearing is, how he could definitely hear every word that was spoken, not when you’d tried to be nice- tried to whisper and be subtle, not when Hobie blatantly did the opposite out of spite.

So he just stares ahead with a blank face, as Hobie leans against the wall, crossing his arms over his chest lazily. There’s a hickey on his neck and Miguel feels like he might throw up.

And somehow, Miguel still thinks that this is all some sick joke, a prank, a dream. Anything to explain what he's seeing. Because there’s no way you're dating Hobie. There’s no way you fucked Hobie fucking Brown- the single most annoying person in Miguel’s life (after peter, of course). And after what, only eight months after you stopped seeing him? That's how long it took for you to get over him? He can almost hear Lyla laughing in his head, 'You're just bitter that you're not over her yet'

Hobie smirks at him “Hello mate, long time no see.” Miguel at least has the human decency to offer him a curt nod, which Hobie apparently finds hilarious as he huffs out a laugh, “'S alright if I send my report later, right? I'm kind of exhausted right now, did a lot of runnin' yesterday, y'know,”

Lyla visibly winces and disappears a second later.

Running. Miguel needed breathing exercises and he needed them now-

Miguel's eyes snapped to yours. Were you just gonna let Hobie talk all that shit, without saying anything? (Knowing Hobie's life was in imminent danger?) Apparently so, because you just scoffed and rolled your eyes with a smile on your face. What a great couple you two made.

He refused to believe that this is who you chose, refused to acknowledge that his anger was pointed at himself and not you. He’d never, ever, admit it, not even at gunpoint, but Hobie was a good kid, he’d treat you right and that's what pissed him off the most.

“Fuck the canon.” Hobie would have laughed and nodded in agreement at your words, not Miguel though. Miguel had said nothing and it had cost him his future with you.

Sensing that Miguel wouldn’t reply anytime soon, Hobie just shrugged nonchalantly, “Thanks for understanding, boss.”

Miguel felt like he could hear his own veins pulsing. Boss, he'd called him boss. That little-

Turning to you, Hobie throws a hand around your waist and squeezes you against him, pressing a kiss on your cheek “I'll see you later love, don' forget to put some ice on that, yeah?” he lays a slap on your ass that makes you almost tumble forward, and Hobie's smirk widens when he sees Miguel ball his fists at his sides, nostrils flaring. Hobie throws a wink at Miguel before squeezing through him to walk out, seeing as Miguel didn't make any attempt to get out of the way.

Miguel doesn't turn to see him open up a portal to leave, he's too busy looking at the way the multi-colored lights illuminate your face, how you grin and wave shyly at your boyfriend.

“So sorry about him.. d'you wanna come in?” you ask, shifting from one leg to another once the portal disappears. Miguel just stares at you, eyes hooded, mouth pressed in a tight line.

“Ookay, I’ll just go get the- yeah” you trail off and turn to walk deeper into your apartment, and Miguel hates himself for craning his neck to catch a glimpse of your ass. And then hates himself even more when he thinks about how smug Hobie would be if he knew Miguel was checking out his girl. He'd say some dumb shit like "Wanting somethin' you can't have again, boss?"

Meanwhile, you're standing on your tippy-toes in front of your infamous bookshelf, arm outstretched, trying to grab your watch but to no use, cursing Hobie in your mind for putting it so high up. You had no idea that by trying to get your stupid watch, you were giving Miguel the perfect view of your backside, seeing as your shirt rode up each time you stretched out your arm.

No, fuck that. You knew exactly what you were doing, and Hobie was right. Let him suffer. He chose this, so now he can deal with the consequences.

Miguel wanted to give everything up right then and there. It's funny how quickly you could strip him of his morals, and he just wishes he could have done that before realizing he'd lost you forever. He could picture his future in his mind so clearly, if only he'd just said yes to your question.

“Will you go out with me?"

He’d resign, move out some place nice, next to a beach preferably. Spend his days laying on the sand and drinking piña coladas with no care in the world.

Except you’d be there. Straddling his lap to steal his drink, giggling and laughing when he tried to take it back from you. He’d grab your hips and with a swift motion you'd switch places, your back against the hot sand. The drink would spill from the movement, the liquid falling over your bikini covered tits, and you’d gasp oh-so prettily when he’d bend to lick it all up.

You’d moan even sweeter when he’d move lower, when he’d eat you out till you’re a crying, babbling mess, whining that you can’t take it anymore. Oh, but you could. You would take it, and he’d prove it when he’d later fuck you against the pool, and he’d make sure he fucked you good. Your mewls would be panted against his ear as he’d thrust into you relentlessly, your fingers digging into his wet back, and all he’d taste would be your pretty moans and the faint taste of rum against his tongue.

His cheeks would hurt from how hard he'd be grinning as he stared at you when you both would go for a walk by the beach later. He'd jog up to you, springing you in his arms, nuzzling his head against your hair- your distinctive smell fogging up his brain- your laughter mixing together, as you chased each other through the waves.

When you'd had enough, and stood panting, your -now wet- dress clinging to you like second skin, he'd drop to his knee, pulling out a ring from his pocket, one he was anxious not to drop when he was chasing you around, and you'd gape at him, tears already welling up in your eyes.

You would have said yes that night. In fact, the word would have been repeated against his shoulder as he fucked you later, rolling his hips into you slowly, kissing your pretty tears, holding you, loving you–

“Done! I just sent it–,” you could have sworn you and Miguel shivered at the same time when he blinked down at you, his mouth parted. His eyes were glistening all of a sudden, and it made your whole being fill with a sense of longing and dread.

“Lyla?” you swallowed harshly at Miguel's hoarse tone, gnawing at your lip as you avoided his gaze.

It was as if Lyla knew not to fuck with him either, because she didn't even make him beg for it, instead pulling up a hologram that showed the report, “Yup, got it!”

You cleared your throat, eager to get back into bed and forget the look on his face just now, suddenly feeling nostalgic for a memory you couldn't quite place- “I'm sorry that I forgot, it won’t happen again, promise.”

Yes it will.

“See you back at HQ?”

Miguel hums, not saying anything, not even caring to correct you, because he’d sooner see you in his dreams than at headquarters.

#•ूᡣ𐭩 — hobie #•ूᡣ𐭩 — miguel #miguel ohara x reader #miguel x reader #hobie brown x reader #spiderpunk x reader

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monzabee · 9 months

Text

déjà vu (beyoncé’s version) – ln4

masterlist

Summary: The one where a bad prank leads to you and Lando exploring an option you thought was not an option.

Pairing: lando norris x bestfriend!reader (nicknamed Tink)

Word Count: 5.2k

Warnings: smut elements but no actual smut, cursing, pining and of course fluff!

Request: “Haiiii. I love your style of writing Lando and feel like you would 100% do a request justice to scratch the itch in my brain Reader and him have been childhood friends, mutual pining with some sexual tension but never crossed lines other than a new years kiss with friends etc. So reader ends up training and qualifying as a physio/masseuse and travelling with Lando bc fun besties on tour together yay! Thinking she ends up getting to know his body really well from that and has to massage some intimate area- tension builds blah. They have a cosy night in together after front row quali to prep for the race, face masks cuddles bc really physically comfortable together and then some confessions happen. After this going out to celebrate home race (not jinxing tomorrow!!) and reader ends up dancing with another driver, Lando gets jealous fully opens up and they go home together (as much detail on that as you feel comfortable with) No probs if it’s something you don’t feel inspired to write! Pls continue writing whatever you love because I love to read your stuff!!”

Author’s Note: hi, hey, hello!! am i back after a literal month of no fics?? i hope so!! thank you so much for being patient with me you guysi i appreciate it, and i just want to say that this was the first time i wrote for lando (and you can definitely thank @userlando and her lando brainrot posts for that) and i’m kind of obsessed!! so as always, thank you to the anon for the request, and i hope you guys enjoy! good morning, noon or night wherever you are, xoxobee

Please also note that all of my works are protected under copyright, and not available for reposting on other platforms.

Being friends with Lando has resulted in both of you getting in trouble way too many times, you realise. The most recent case? The both of you ended up in a supply closet nearby the Aston Martin hospitality, hiding from a very, very, angry Spaniard. The close proximity and the limited space wouldn’t have been a big issue, for if Lando wasn’t looking at you with that look in his eyes. Under normal other circumstances, your reaction would’ve been much more different to the one you give him now – which is a glare that shows him you are not happy with the situation the both of you are in.

You’re about to scold him, but the words on your tongue quickly die as he presses his index finger to your lips. “I know you’re about to yell at me,” he whispers as he tries to keep his voice as low as possible, “but I really don’t want to be found right now.”

“Then maybe you should’ve thought about that before, you bloody idiot.” You hiss while slapping his hand away, which wins you a mock pout in return. “Why would you play that song every time he walked into a room?”

“It’s his name,” Lando tries to reason, “I thought he’d be used to it by now!”

Here’s the sitch. Lando, being the absolute prankster he is, decided to play ‘Fernando’ every time his former teammate entered into a room that morning – which resulted in the Spaniard becoming more and more annoyed with him until he snapped and Lando had to find himself a hiding place. How did you get roped into this, you may ask? You have absolutely no idea, other than your best friend dragging you into a nearby storage closet as you were walking back to the McLaren hospitality after meeting up with some of your friends for a cup of coffee. And now? The two of you are stuck inside a closet which is obviously too small for you both, and Lando has to bend his neck in an uncomfortable position.

“Lando,” you whisper in an attempt to keep your voice down, “don’t bend your head like that, you’ll strain something.”

“Well it’s not exactly comfortable, Tink.” He grimaces as one of the shelves hit his neck, which causes him to let out a low groan.

Ignoring the nickname he’s used for years, you motion him to move lower. “Just– let me see, okay?”

He begrudgingly nods as he bends his body towards you to accommodate you. You let your fingers run across his skin to find any knots along his shoulders. He lets out another low groan, but this one is more appreciative as you work some of the knots your fingers end up finding.

You watch as Lando’s expression changes from painful discomfort to relief as your fingers work their magic on his tense muscles. For a brief moment, it's just the two of you in the confined space, and you almost get lost in the comfortable silence. “Feels good,” Lando murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper, “I swear you have magic hands or something.”

You let out a breathy chuckle, “I just know your body, Lando.” After realising the words that come out of your mouth, your face flushes with embarrassment at the unintended implication of your words and you scramble to add, “Not like that, I didn’t mean–”

He smirks playfully, his eyes sparkling mischievously. “Oh, really? My body, huh? You think about my body often?” he teases, his hands squeezing your waist – and being lost in the moment, you don’t even know how they ended up there.

Your cheeks grow even hotter, and you feel your heart rate quicken. “No, that's not what I meant,” you stammer, trying to regain your composure, “and you know it’s basically my job to think about, you know?”

The mischievous glint in his eyes shine brightly as he decides to play dumb, “To think about what, baby?”

Your heart skips a beat at his teasing, and you can't help but let out a small laugh, trying to hide your embarrassment. “Don't be ridiculous, Lando,” you retort, trying to act cool despite the butterflies in your stomach. “I meant knowing your body like an expert, considering the fact that you pull a muscle every time you decide to do a physical activity.”

He chuckles, and his hands, still resting on your waist, give you a playful squeeze. "Sure, sure, Tink," he replies, a hint of playfulness in his voice. "But let's be honest, it's not just my body you know well. You practically read my mind too."

You roll your eyes, trying to playfully push him away. "Oh, please. You're not that hard to figure out."

Lando leans in a little closer, his grin still evident. "Is that so? Then tell me, oh expert of Lando Norris, what am I thinking right now?"

You raise an eyebrow, not falling for his trick. "You're probably thinking that you got away with the Fernando prank and now you owe me big time, your brain is empty most of the time."

He smirks, impressed by your response. "You're good, Tink. But you're right, I do owe you one. What can I do to make it up to you?"

You pause, the closeness between the two of you making it difficult to think clearly. "Well, for starters, maybe you can stop dragging me into your pranks and getting us into trouble," you suggest with a hint of a smile. “And I don’t know, maybe take pole for me, you know?”

As the playful banter continues, you both seem to forget about the predicament you're in. The confined space of the closet no longer feels suffocating; instead, it becomes a haven for shared laughter and camaraderie.

Just as the two of you are lost in the moment, the closet door suddenly opens, and you both freeze. The angry Spaniard stands before you once again, but this time, his expression has softened, seeing you and Lando in a surprisingly intimate moment.

"Am I interrupting something?" Fernando asks, his tone amused.

Your face turns beet red, and Lando lets out a nervous chuckle. "Oh, hey there. Just having a chat, you know."

But Fernando raises an eyebrow, still looking amused. "In a supply closet?"

You and Lando exchange a sheepish glance, realizing how the situation must appear to Fernando. "Well, we kind of got caught up in the moment," you admit, hoping he doesn't read too much into it.

Fernando chuckles, and there's a warm glint in his eyes. "I see. Well, it's none of my business, but you might want to find a less cramped place to chat next time."

You nod in agreement, grateful that Fernando seems to be taking the situation lightly. "You're right. We'll keep that in mind," you say, trying to sound casual.

Lando adds with a grin, "Yeah, and we promise not to play 'Fernando' every time you enter a room from now on." But he’s quick to correct himself when you give him a glare, “I promise not to play 'Fernando' every time you enter a room from now on."

Fernando chuckles again, seemingly amused by the whole ordeal. "I'd appreciate that. Anyway, carry on. I won't keep you two any longer."

As he walks away, you let out a sigh of relief. "That could have been a lot worse," you say, feeling a mix of embarrassment and amusement.

"Yeah, we got lucky," Lando agrees, giving you a playful nudge. "But you know what they say, Tink, nothing like a bit of closet bonding to strengthen a friendship."

You roll your eyes at his playful banter, but there's a fondness in your heart as you look at him. "You're incorrigible, Lando Norris."

He grins, "You love it, though."

You can't help but smile, knowing he's right. “Come on,” you say, “you have a quali to attend.”

The tension from the qualifying session had left you on edge, your heart pounding with every lap, and your nerves had gotten the better of you, leading to some slightly bloody nails from biting them in anticipation. But all that anxiety melts away when you see Lando step out of the car, grinning ear to ear. As soon as he catches sight of you, he opens his arms, and you don't hesitate for a moment. You rush into his embrace, holding him tightly, relieved that he's safe and thrilled that he performed so well.

"You were amazing out there!" you exclaim, unable to hide the pride in your voice. "P2, front row! That's incredible!"

Lando chuckles, his arms still wrapped around you. "I don’t know how we did it!"

You pull back slightly to look into his eyes, your heart swelling with admiration for your best friend. "I never doubted you for a second," you say earnestly.

His grin widens, and he playfully ruffles your hair. "I know you didn't. Seems like you’re my lucky charm, hm?"

“You know what that means?” You ask him return, a playful smirk on your lips.

His answer comes quickly, and his look seems to reflect your own, “Pizza and a movie?”

Your reply is just as enthusiastic as you throw your arms around him and give him a big smile, “Pizza and a movie, baby!”

Eventually, you manage to escape the whole hustle and bustle of the circuit, and you and Lando find yourselves back at the hotel, with you on the couch trying to find something to watch and him deciding to take a quick shower after the stressful day of qualifying. After a few minutes, you hear the sound of the shower running in the bathroom. You smile to yourself, glad that Lando is taking some time to relax after such a demanding day. As you wait for him to finish, you finally settle on a movie to watch with a small grin on your face, clearly pleased with your choice. Just as you're about to start the movie, you hear the bathroom door open, and Lando emerges, looking refreshed and relaxed.

After he gets the pizza box out of the oven, he walks over to the couch, wearing sweatpants instead of his jeans, and flops down next to you. "That shower was exactly what I needed," he says with a contented sigh.

You chuckle, glancing at him, while also trying to actively ignore the fact that he’s wearing grey sweatpants. "Feeling better now?"

"Definitely," he replies, flashing you a grin. "So, what are we watching?"

“Mamma Mia,” you scoff, “of course.”

“A classic, nice.” He nods in understanding, extending the pizza box to you for you to take a slice. “It’s still warm.”

You wordlessly grab a slice and pass the box back to Lando as you settle in your seat, ready to focus on your choice of movie. The comfortable silence between you feels familiar, like the unspoken language of best friends who have shared countless memories and moments together. Throughout the movie, you can't help but notice Lando's occasional stolen glances at you, and you find yourself stealing glances right back. He even winks at you with that boyish grin every time he catches you staring at him, making you giggle as you quickly turn your attention back onto the screen. You somehow find yourself sprawled out on the couch once the pizza box is emptied and discarded, and it’s harder for you to keep your eyes open. With your head on Lando’s lap, he plays with the ends of your hair as the two of you try to keep your attention on the screen.

‘Try,’ being the operative word here, since Lando realises that you end up falling asleep in the middle of the movie where Sophie realises all of the men she invited to the wedding thinks they are her father, and though he finds some kind of comfort in the chaos knowing that it will get resolved eventually, he can’t help but take his role as a makeshift human pillow very seriously. As the movie continues playing, Lando tries his best not to disturb your peaceful slumber. He leans back against the couch, adjusting his position so you can rest more comfortably on his lap while also trying so hard to not wake you up. He can't help but smile to himself as he plays with your hair, finding himself mesmerized by the gentle rise and fall of your chest as you breathe.

With a sudden realisation that maybe it is not the best thing to stare at you while you sleep, he tries to occupy himself with something on his phone while also trying to keep still so that you don’t wake up. However, the text thread between him and Max quickly makes him realise that the thoughts that he tries so hard to keep away. He never gave himself the opportunity to think about the two of you that way, he supposes. Not that it would be weird or anything, but in his mind, he’d seen, and been in, far too many relationships form and de-form to know that not all is permanent when it comes to relationships and it’s also not something he’d want to risk when it comes to you. Although the unwarranted thoughts of the two of you together, as a couple, have been haunting him for the past couple of months, he did a great job of sending them away and finding something else to focus on – up until now, that is. And now that he’s pictured the two of you together, holding hands in the streets of Monaco, going on dates, doing more than what ‘best friends’ are meant to do, it doesn’t seem that daunting to give it a try.

He carefully shifts you onto his lap with gentle movements, surprised that you don’t wake up and also trying to figure out the best way to wake you up without startling you. As he gently brushes your cheek, your eyes flutter open, and you look up at him with a sleepy smile. "Did I miss the end of the movie?" you ask, your voice still heavy with sleep.

Lando chuckles, shaking his head, but not stilling the movement of his hand. “No, we just finished. You fell asleep somewhere in the middle.”

You sit up slightly, rubbing your eyes with a small yawn. “I'm sorry,” you say, sounding apologetic.

“No need to apologise,” he assures you, his thumb caressing your cheek. “You looked adorable sleeping, Tink.”

Your cheeks flush slightly, and you give him a playful nudge. “Stop teasing me.”

Lando grins, but there's a tenderness in his eyes as he looks at you. “I'm not teasing, Tink. I mean it. You always look adorable, no matter what you're doing.”

You feel your heart skip a beat at his sincere compliment, and you can't help but smile back. “Thank you,” you say softly, feeling a warmth spreading through you, “I, uh, I should probably go to my room and let you sleep.”

“What? No, you don’t have to go.” Lando’s eyebrows furrow on their own, “I mean, you could stay over, it’s not like we haven’t done it before.”

You give him an unsure look, “I don’t know, Lando, you have a race tomorrow.”

“And we’ll sleep,” he shrugs, “the name ‘sleepover’ implies that, baby.”

You end up giving in and nodding, albeit a little hesitant. "Alright, I'll stay over."

Lando's face lights up with a bright smile, clearly pleased with your decision. "Great! It'll be fun, just like old times."

You chuckle softly. "Yeah, just like old times."

And you’d expect it to feel like the old times, because the two of you said it would be like the old times – the times where you’d spend the night over at his house because his mother picked you up and you didn’t want the playtime to be over. But instead of the excitement of a prolonged play date with your best friend, you find yourself anxious in the hotel bathroom over the fact that it’s him out there, and there is no way that he is not aware of the way you feel about him. You take a moment to compose yourself, splashing some cold water on your face to calm your nerves. This situation is new territory for both of you, and you don't want anything to ruin the friendship the two of you have. When you eventually make your way out of the bathroom, you desperately want to go back in, feeling undoubtedly exposed under Lando’s burning gaze.

“What?” You ask, your voice coming off weaker than you hoped, “Why are you looking at me like that?”

It takes a minute for him to answer you, mainly because of the fact that poor Lando is having a brain malfunction at the sight of you in his shirt – which he gave it to you because it was the only logical option for sleepwear, you know? Suddenly regretting his possessive streak, he attempts to clear his throat, “Nothing, you look good in my clothes.”

Your eyebrows shoot up, and you try not to let yourself become reduced to a blubbering mess, “Oh, well thank you. It’s yours,” after a brief moment of realisation you quickly add, “but you already knew that.”

“Tink,” he calls out, snapping you out of whatever embarrassed state you’re in, and your eyes quickly snap to his. “Come here,” he pleads as he extends one of his towards you, he’s quick to draw you into his arms – and just like that, you find yourself straddling your best friend.

“This is crazy,” you whisper as Lando grabs you by the waist to still your movements as you try to find a comfortable position while not realising just how uncomfortable it becomes for him.

“It doesn’t have to be,” his whisper is just as soft as yours as he looks up to you, “we don’t have to make it weird.”

A compromise, you’ll take it. “Are you going to kiss me?”

“Do you want me to kiss you?” As much as you hate it when he replies to your questions with his own, you nod your head with a sheepish look on your face, though it doesn’t satisfy Lando as a valid answer. “I need you to say it, baby.”

You answer comes of in an instant. “I do, please.”

“Such good manners,” he mumbles while giving you that boyish grin you love oh so much. When he catches biting the corner of your lip, you’re broken out of your daydream by his thumb pulling your lip free. “Don’t do that, you’ll hurt yourself,” his thumb caresses the side of your lip, “that’s my job, anyway.”

Your cheeks flush at his playful comment, and you can't help but smile at his words. "Your job, huh?" you tease, feeling the tension in the air starting to dissipate.

Lando chuckles, his fingers gently tracing patterns on your waist. "Among other things," he replies with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

Before you give yourself the opportunity to overthink, you lean in and press a soft kiss to Lando’s lips – it��s only a peck, a hesitant one at that, but not completely uncharted territory when you think about it. The two of you have shared kisses before, at Christmas or New Year’s at midnight, but somehow this simple peck feels different than any of those other occasions. Lando doesn’t rush you. He’s a patient man after all, and he knows that the feelings he has for you are reciprocated by the feelings you have for him. So when you look him with widened eyes, he gives you a soft smile and it does wonders to calm your nerves. It doesn’t take you long to press your lips against his once again, but this time the kiss is deeper, more passionate, and filled with the unspoken words that have lingered between you for too long.

It starts off with another peck, but this time you take the initiative to deepen the kiss, and the appreciative groan that leaves Lando’s lips makes you feel butterflies in your stomach. His hands move from your waist to the small of your back, pulling you closer to him, while yours tangle in his hair, revelling in the softness of his curls – and the fact that all of this feels almost familiar in some kind of a way. He’s not shy as he lets his tongue explore your mouth, in fact, he encourages you to do the same. It’s a messy kiss filled with colliding tongues and mixed breaths, and the hands that were on your waist one moment are now on your hips, encouraging their slow movement against his groin. It’s not a subtle build-up for any of you, either. It a matter of seconds, you find yourself dry-humping your childhood best friend in his hotel room, and in a couple more, both of you are whimpering into the kiss.

You’re both out of breath and breathing deeply as you rest your forehead against Lando’s. Thankfully, his hands continue to guide your hips as their movement get more and more erratic, and you him groan out, “Slow down, baby.”

You let out an objective whimper in return, whispering out a weak, “No.”

“No?” Lando repeats, his breath hitting your exposed neck in a light chuckle, “Do you want to come?”

“Uh-huh,” you mumble, letting your hands grab handfuls of his hair, “but you can’t fuck me.”

The whine that comes from your lips can only be described as bratty when Lando forces your hips to cease their movements, raising an eyebrow at you as he grumbles, “Excuse me?”

“You can’t fuck me, Lando.” You mumble, trying to move your hips again, but his hold is too powerful against your attempts. “At least not tonight.”

“And why is that, Tink?” He takes in your wide eyes and shuddering breath in, thinking he’d done something wrong, something you didn’t like. “You want to come, no?” He thinks at that moment, as you give him a nod with that dreamy and almost innocent look on your face, he could die and he’d be happy with where his life has led him, but he gives you a confused look, “Then what is the problem?”

“Um, you have a race tomorrow,” you explain as your fingers gently slide down to meet at the nape of his neck, “I don’t want to jinx anything.”

As a respond to your words, Lando gives you a look of disbelief, “You don’t want to jinx me having a good race,” he mumbles.

You give him another nod, “Are you mad at me?”

“Am I mad at you?” Lando repeats the question, and he flips the two of you over in a smooth motion so that you're lying on the bed with him hovering above you, his eyes locked onto yours. “Answer the question for me, will you?”

You take a moment to catch your breath, your heart racing as you meet his intense gaze. “No,” you reply softly, your fingers tracing the outline of his jaw. “Why would you be mad at me?”

Lando's lips curve into a playful smile as he leans in, his breath warm against your skin. “See?” he murmurs, his lips brushing against yours, “Good girl.” As he moves down your body, you let out a protesting sound, but he quickly shushes you as he positions himself between your legs. “I’m going to make you come, and you’re not talking to Micheal Italiano ever again.” He taps the side of your hips to signal you to raise them up as he carefully takes off your underwear and then murmurs to himself, “Pretty girl, too.”

With a blush which is quickly spreading onto your cheeks and neck, you raise yourself onto your elbows as you watch him give you the do-over. “Lando,” you plead.

“Oh baby, you're wet,” he teases, “don’t worry, though, I’ll help you with that.” He also gives you a look while grabbing both of your thighs, “And the shirt fucking stays on.”

After the events of the previous night with Lando working wonders between your legs for the remainder of the night, he honestly didn’t expect to start the morning with you returning the favour. Alas there you were, between his legs, with sleepy eyes and an innocent smile as if you hadn’t just given him the best blowjob of his life. And as the two of you make your way along the paddock, he wishes he was back in his hotel room with you in his arms. You try your best to distract him from overthinking everything and costing himself the race, and Lando is aware of what you’re trying to do – though that doesn’t mean you succeed completely.

You can tell by the small frown of eyebrows that he is lost inside his head, probably double guessing every aspect of the strategy his team debriefed him about this morning. With a deep inhale, you give his hand a small squeeze, halting your movements to stop him alongside you. “Hey,” you call out gently, “you’re going to be amazing out there, okay? You have nothing to worry about.”

“I know, it’s just the pressure is getting to me.” You watch him sigh, closing his eyes for a moment to regroup his thoughts, “I’ll be fine before I go in the car, I promise.”

You nod, giving him an encouraging smile, “I know you will. After all, you feel the–”

“Need for speed.” He completes the sentence without thinking, which makes the two of share a short laughter. “Thanks, Tink.”

“You’re welcome,” lifting yourself up on your tiptoes, you give him a soft peck on his lips, “I’ll watch the race with your dad, okay?” You chuckle at his reaction when he lets out a prolonged groan, “What?”

“He’s going to make fun of us, big time.” He says, rolling his eyes.

“Go,” you say in between laughter, “don’t be late and for the love of God, be careful!”

Lando chuckles at your playful warning, giving you a mock salute. “Yes, ma'am!”

It doesn’t take long for you to find Adam, who gives you a knowing look, in the sea of spectators in the McLaren garage. And as the race begins, you and Adam stand side by side, your eyes fixed on the track where the race is unfolding. The first four laps as the Lando leads the race makes your heart beat so hard, you can practically feel the excitement coursing through your veins. Each turn and straightaway that Lando navigates flawlessly adds to the anticipation building in the air. Even when he returns to his original position, you’re on the edge, praying to whatever deity up there for him to finish this race without and incident. You’ve told him million times before that you don’t get F1 at all, you’ve always thought the adrenaline linked with the sport to be a negative feeling – too heavy, too much and definitely not something you want to feel every weekend. But in the moment that Lando passes the finishing line P2, you realise why people are so obsessed with this sport. Because when Lando crosses the finish line, you find yourself cheering as loudly as anyone else. The rush of emotions, once alien to you, now feels like a shared celebration of human achievement and dedication.

Lando is all smiles when he finally finds his way back to you, and he’s giving you a kiss the moment he has you back in his arms; celebrating with the team in the paddock was a whirlwind of emotions. As he wraps his arms around you and pulls you close, his big smile is infectious.

So you’re honestly confused when he starts dragging you through the hallways of the club you went to for his celebrations with the rest of the team. The beat of the music playing back in the dancefloor echoes in the hallway as he leads you down the hall. The lights, the laughter, and the energy of the celebrations in the main area of the club are still audible, but you can only hear the muffled sounds of the celebration being held for him. “Lando,” in hopes of finally getting some answers, you say his name for the umpteenth time, but he just looks at you with furrowed eyebrows, “what’s wrong?”

He's silent as he wraps his arms around your waist and before you can repeat your question he buries his head in the crook of your neck. While you’re thinking about what could’ve caused his sudden need to be alone with you, he’s very glad that you’ve opted to wear sneakers tonight instead of heels.

“Baby,” you murmur, your fingers running through his curls in an attempt to bribe him, “tell me what’s wrong.”

“Nothing is wrong.” His voice is muffled by your skin and you can feel the breath he exhales on your shoulder.

You purse your lips and give him a few moments for him to break on his own, but when he doesn’t, you sigh softly. “Something is wrong.”

He raises his head momentarily to give you an unamused look, then bury his head back into your neck, “I saw you and Oscar.”

“Yeah, we were talking about the race.” Your confirmation leaves you confused as he lets out a scoff, and you find yourself warily asking, “Is there something wrong with that?”

You hear him scoff again and then, “Well I didn’t particularly like it.”

You gently push him off of you as you try to look past his confused expression and pouted lips, “You didn’t like me talking to your teammate… about your race.”

“Well when you put it like that–”

“Lando he is two years younger than us, and he has a girlfriend you do realise that, don’t you?” Your hands rest on either side of your body on your hips as you give him a small grin, “You were jealous, weren’t you?”

His eyes widen as he nods, “Well yeah, Tink, I think that one was very much obvious when I dragged you here.”

“I mean,” you drawl, “it was kind of cute, you know?”

As his eyes narrow, Lando walks you backwards until you’re pressed up against the wall. “Well I am a cute person.”

“Oh yeah,” you let out a giggle, “the cutest.” Your fingers toy with the buttons of his shirt while you look up at him to meet his eyes, “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

“That we should probably get back to the party?” He mumbles, his eyes drifting as he looks around the hall.

You fist the collar of his shirt as you raise yourself up on your tiptoes, your voice lowering down for only him to hear even if it’s a deserted hallway, “You don’t have a race tomorrow.”

His eyes come back down to meet yours, “Well yes, it’s Mond– oh,” it takes a moment for him to realise what you’ve meant, and you’re thrown over his shoulder in an instant.

“Wha– Lando put me down!” You shriek, “What are you doing?”

His voice is playful as he starts walking towards the back door of the club, “We are not leaving that hotel room for a few days.”

It doesn’t take long for you to start laughing, “You’re an idiot.”

“Maybe,” he shrugs the opposite shoulder, “but I’m your idiot.”

The sincerity in his words catches you off guard, but you can’t help the small smile forming on your lips as you murmur, “Yeah, yeah you are.”

#monzabee #requests open #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 smut #formula 1 #fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 x y/n #lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #imagine #fluff #angst #smut #lando norris smut #lando norris fluff

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joybabyjune · 2 months

Text

Jealousy

Pairing: Frank Castle x fem!reader (Matt Murdock has a tiny role too)

Summery: You’ve been casually sleeping with Frank for a while now, but you decide you need something more stable and go on a date with Matt (who you don’t know is Daredevil). Frank shows up on your date to show you who you belong to (maybe in a public bathroom 🙊) and to show Matt to back off 😈.

Warnings: Explicit (minors dni!!!), semi public, unprotected piv, oral (m receiving), little bit of praise kink (good girl, attagirl), little bit of degradation kink (slut, whore), dirty talk, tiny bit of exhibition kink, sort of cuckolding Matt. Think that’s it, feel free to let me know if I missed anything!

Author’s note: This idea was stuck in my head for so long and I finally finished it! I hope you guys like it. I would love to hear what you guys think, so reading notes will make me happy! And if you really like it, please reblog so others can enjoy as well. You’ll make my day and it’s completely freeee.

Disclaimer: English is not my first language ✌🏼

Masterlist

You’re sipping on your second beer while you chat and laugh with Matt. After working together for over a year now, he finally asked you out.

Matt is a good guy. He’s everything you should want in a man. Reliable, kind, not a murderer on the run for law enforcement that most people think is dead... You mentally kick yourself for thinking about Frank while on a date with Matt. There’s no future with Frank. You shouldn’t want him. You need someone more stable in your life, someone like Matt.

“You okey?” Matt asks sensing your mind is elsewhere.

“Eh.. Yeah, yeah, I’m sorry. You were saying?” You ask, shaking your head as if you’re shaking the thoughts of Frank from your brain.

“That this new client is really gonna make a difference for Nelson and Murdock..” He continues talking, but your mind drifts again while you look around the cozy, dark bar at all the people who decided to get drinks tonight. There’s a few couples, a group of co workers who look like came straight from their office jobs, a few middle aged men at the bar that you feel safe to assume are regulars and then your heart stops for a second as you see him.

Frank Castle is sitting at a table by the window, sipping on a beer. Your eyes widen when you make eye contact and he nods at you as a way of saying hello. You wave back almost nervously. How is he out here in public?

“Want another beer?” Matt asks, bringing your attention back to him.

“Eh, y-yeah, thanks.” You say. You’re so glad that your date is blind and didn’t see your interaction with the criminal he told you to watch out for.

What you don’t know is that Matt has already sensed Frank from the moment he entered the bar. He has been noticing his smell on you for the past months as well and it doesn’t sit right with him. It’s part of the reason he asked you out tonight, to get your attention away from the other man.

You grab your phone while Matt orders your drinks and hold it up to Frank to show that you’re gonna text him.

You: What are you doing here? What if anyone recognizes you?

Frank: Don’t you worry about me, sweetheart.

Frank: Saw you go in here with that lawyer guy..

You frown at your phone. Is he.. Jealous? It’s the first time you’re on a date since you started seeing him, but you didn’t think he would mind. It’s all been pretty casual between the two of you.

Frank: Looks like a date..

You look at him and he raises his eyebrows to urge you to answer him.

You: It is.. Matt is a good guy. He would be good for me. Reliable, available..

You look at him and see him scoff as he reads your text. You know it was a low blow. The only reason Frank is away most of the time, is to make the city a saver place.

Frank: Yeah? That what you want? A good Christian boy?

You: Yes.

You lie and Frank knows it. You should want a guy like Matt. Matt you could bring to Thanksgiving dinner with your parents and your mom would, for once, not be disappointed in you.. But you and Frank both know you like the danger and excitement of your little arrangement way too much. For months now, Frank comes to your apartment on a regular basis. You have amazingly intense and kinky sex and have the best conversations while eating takeout afterwards. Sometimes he stays the night and sometimes he leaves while you fall asleep, but either way you’re left alone until the next time he has a night to spare.

Frank: So full of shit.

Matt comes back with your drinks before you can write a reply, but you scowl at Frank.

“Thanks.” You say taking the drink from him and smiling extra brightly, to convince Frank you’re having fun.

“Sorry it took so long, was very busy at the bar.” He says, holding his glass up to toast with you.

“Oh don’t worry about it.” You say as you touch his glass with yours before you glance at your phone.

Frank: Did you let him fuck you?

You: Not yet..

You look over at him and he scoffs again as he reads your message

Frank: Think he can fuck you like I can?

You gasp when you read it and you see Matt frown. “Something wrong?” He asks.

“N-no.. Just need to go to the bathroom for a second.” You say. “Excuse me.”

You don’t go to the bathroom. You walk straight to Frank and sit down next to him. “What the hell, Frank.” You hiss.

He just looks at you. “Tell me.” He finally urges. “Think he’ll fuck you like I can? Cause I don’t think he can.”

“Oh please.” You scoff. “Think very highly of yourself, Castle. I think Matt will manage just fine.”

He laughs dryly. “Just fine, huh.” He says. “Think I do just fine? Well I remember that differently, sweetheart. I remember you begging, crying out my name, barely being able to walk..”

“Stop that, Frank.” You hiss through your teeth. “I’m trying to give this thing with Matt a chance. I need something more serious in my life than just some good dick every once in a while, okey.”

“Oh now I’m just some good dick, hm.” He chuckles through his nose and looks to the side before looking at you again and licking his lips. He places his hand on your bare thigh, right at the edge of your dress. “You look good. Got all dressed up for your little date, huh.”

Your breath hitches at his touch. And your stupid body reacts instantly to his. “Y-yes..” You say.

“Got something pretty underneath it too?” He asks, fingers toying with the hem of your dress.

You swallow thickly. “No..” You say honestly.

“No?” He asks in disbelieve, knowing what you have in your collection.

“No, I’m not wearing anything.” You say smiling teasingly. “Felt like doing something risky for my date.” You like to make him jealous. It feels good to know that he wants you and doesn’t want another man to touch you.

He growls a little. “You gonna let him get under this dress tonight?” He asks.

“I might..” You say.

He grips your thigh tightly and leans in so his mouth is at your ear. “Let me remind you first..” He says. “Of what you’ll be missing if you do that.” His lips connect to your neck and he slides the tip of his tongue over your pulse.

“Frank..” You whimper, you brain clouding over. Why does he have to have this effect on you?

“Bathroom.” He rasps. “Now.”

Your eyes widen and you look at Matt. He looks unfazed as he drinks his beer, his back towards you. You know this bathroom. It’s beat down, broken lights and mirrors, graffiti everywhere and it has multiple stalls, so there’s no way you can get away with this without anyone noticing. “I can’t, Frank..” You sigh.

“I said. Now.” He says. You almost moan at his demand and get up. “Attagirl..” He says as you walk toward the bathroom, your feet moving on their own accord.

You can sense him following you closely. He pushes you into the bathroom and slams you with your back against the door to barricade it before crashing his lips on yours.

He lifts you up and you wrap your legs around him. Your dress hitches up to your hips and you moan in his mouth as he rolls his hips into your, basically bare, core. “Hmhmm.” He hums and he breaks the kiss. “That’s what you need, huh?”

“Frankie..” You whine a little, but you know he’s right. “But-“

“Shh shh shh.. No buts.” He says and lifts your dress up more so it bundles at your waist. You feel your naked folds against the rough material of his jeans and you moan loudly. He snakes one hand between your bodies and slides his fingers through your soaking slit. “Fuck..” He mutters to himself. “That for me or for lawyer guy out there?”

“Y-you, Frank.. You..” You say, your voice breathy, as he starts rubbing circles on your clit.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” He grunts. “Pretending to be a good girl, but you’re just a little slut for me..”

“Frankie..” You moan, sounding desperate, but you know he’s right. “Please..”

“Hm? What’s that?” He rasps against your throat. As he presses on your clit harder.

“Oh fuck..” You pant. “Frank, p-please.. Need more..”

“Oh yeah? That slutty hole needs to be filled?” He asks. “Why don’t I get Murdock to do that for you, huh? ‘M sure he can help you out.”

“N-no!” You gasp and grab onto his shoulders desperately.. “Need you, Frank.. Need your cock.. P-please!”

He growls and mutters something under his breath while unbuttoning his pants. You can barely hear it but it sounds like. “Hear that, Red.” You frown but get pulled out of your thoughts by Frank slamming his cock inside you without warning.

“Oh my.. Fuck!!” You cry out, fingers digging into his shoulders. You keep forgetting how big he is.

He growls loudly. “That’s it, take it..” He says as he starts thrusting right away, not giving you any time to get used to the intrusion. “Tight fucking pussy.. So wet for me.”

There’s a knock on the bathroom door that you can barely register. “Taken!” Frank rasps loudly, giving you a particularly hard thrust that makes you cry out loudly.

“Y-you’re so bad..” You whine. “T-they can hear us.” You add in a whisper.

“Let them..” He says. “Let them hear what a whore you are for this cock. That you let me steal you away from your date and fuck you in a public bathroom.. ‘S because you belong to me, hmm?”

“Frankie..” You whine.

“Right?” He growls through gritted teeth.

He’s never been this harsh, but you’ve also never been this aroused and you can feel your orgasm building up fast. When you don’t answer him, he pulls out. “Nooo, don’t stop!”

“Say it..” He growls and rubs the head of his cock against your clit.

“Ohhh.. I-I’m yours, Frankie! P-please!” You moan.

“That’s right. Mine.” He growls as he sinks back inside you.

Your eyes roll back in your head and he starts fucking you with deep, hard strokes. “I-I’m gonna cum..” You pant into his shoulder. “Please don’t stop..”

“Good girl, cum on my fucking cock.” He rasps, never losing his rhythm.

You cry out when you explode around him and immediately know that no man can ever top this. You’re addicted to Frank Castle, even with all the hassle that comes with him. “Fuckkkk!”

“That’s it, attagirl.. Can feel you squeezing me..” Frank talks you through it.

“Oh my god..” You pant as you come down from your high.

“Think I’ll send you back to your date with me dripping down your legs, hm, how ‘bout that?”

“Noo! Please don’t!” You chuckle.

“No?” He asks shaking his head with a smirk on his face. “Better get on your knees then.” He adds and he pulls out.

He lets you down and you quickly get on your knees. You don’t care about how dirty the floor is, you need this right now.

His cock, wet from your juices, glistens in the dimmed lighting as he holds it in front of your face. He’s rock hard, the veins are pulsing and his balls look heavy. He’s definitely close.

You ‘open up’ when he tells you to and he slides in as deep as he can until you gag. “That’s it.. Attagirl..” He mutters and he slowly starts thrusting into your welcoming mouth, one of his hands resting comfortably on the back of your head, the other pushing the door closed above you. “Look at me..” He orders and your eyes shoot up to his. “Gonna make sure that if that fucker tries to kiss you, that he knows you belong to another man. Cause this fucking mouth’s mine too, hear me?” He growls, speeding up his thrusts and making you gag again.

You make some sounds to agree with him, not being able to talk. “Fuck.. Gonna give you my cum.. Fill up that pretty mouth..” He groans loudly and his hips stutter while you feel his load land on the back of your tongue.

You gently suck his softening cock to get every last drop before letting him slip out and swallowing the proof.

“Fuck you..” You sigh as you rest your head back against the door.

He chuckles silently. “That good, hm?”

“Shut up..” You smile lazily.

“Still think he can give it to you like that?” He asks as he tucks himself back into his pants.

“No.. Don’t think anyone can, Frank..” You say honestly. “And I hate you for it. You ruined me..”

“Should have warned you for that.” He says smiling down at you smugly. “Gonna get up?”

“‘F you give me a hand.” You say and he helps you get up on your shaking legs.

“Fucking Frank.” You curse as you look in the mirror. Your hair is messy, your makeup messed up and your dress is all wrinkled.

He chuckles. “Go end this date, I’ll be waiting in your room for round two.” He says slapping your ass and leaving you in the bathroom to freshen up.

“Thank you for your patience.” You hear him say to someone on the other side of the door.

Your eyes widen and you pull your dress down just quick enough for two women around your age to walk in.

“‘M s-sorry..” You mutter without looking at them. They don’t say anything, just disappear into the stalls.

You quickly try to salvage what you can and hurry back to your table.

“I-I’m sorry, Matt.” You say sitting down.

“You okey? You were gone for a while.” He asks.

“Ehm.. N-no, I don’t feel so well. Think it’s best if I go home.” You say as you put on your jacket and grab your purse.

“You sure?” He asks, frowning a little, and you get the feeling the question is about more than just you going home.

“Yes, I’m sorry.”

“Shall I walk with you?”

“No, that’s okey. I’ll eh, I’ll see you tomorrow at the office.”

“Alright.” He says looking a little disappointed.

“Bye.” You say, hugging him and hurrying home.

To Frank, once again.

#frank castle x female reader #frank castle #frank castle smut #frank castle x you #frank castle x reader #the punisher x you #the punisher smut #the punisher x reader #the punisher #matt murdock #daredevil

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