#but instead you were Icarus

[steddieas-shegoes]

Cannot emphasize enough how much I mean minors DNI.

Like, we all know we all were reading things we shouldn’t have when we were teenagers. But we used to have the decency to not interact with them and put authors and artists in the situation where they have to be babysitter or block you.

So this is to reiterate what is on my blog description AND master post.

If you are under 18, I do not want you here. If you wanna read this shit secretly, go right ahead, I won’t know. But absolutely do not message me about stuff, even if it’s SFW.

Especially when you are barely older than the child I birthed from my body.

Please god the youths have gotta learn to go back to the times of hiding that they’re reading smut. Please.

#I’m so fuckin serious it makes me so mad #if you can go to my blog to ask something #you can read the TWO areas on the main page that say minors DNI #you could’ve flown under the radar #but instead you were Icarus #seriously do not do this #I do not send a courtesy message #it’s block on site

[snow-lavender]

just remembered that during the corruption arc (which was two years ago holy shit) sherbert made a tiktok using audio from brennan lee mulligan's yes or no monologue. i wonder if they were going "tee hee they don't know :)" while filming that.

#fable smp #sherbertquake56 #yesterday's premiere has me thinking about the many torments of brennan lee mulligan #combine that with the constant background thinking about fable and you get this #for those of you who are more normal and don't have that monologue committed to memory #about a third of it revolves around the myth of icarus #specifically an interpretation where the wings are a plot to get rid of icarus #like his cousin before him #now im thinking about 'wanted to see his son fall. oh how close to the sun he flew' and going hmmmm #man if only fable were just a reich-esque trickster instead of a megalomaniac #the characters would have way fewer problems

[foone]

Games are kinda weird as a creative medium because it's one of the few where it's possible to be incredibly incompetent at one of the major parts of it (the programming) and it not be noticeable in the end product.

Like, if you're a musician who can't sing or play your instruments worth a damn, that definitely comes across in the final product, no matter how good you are at lyrics or composing.

Making a movie? It doesn't matter how great the script is, if your performers can't act and your cameraman doesn't know which end points towards the action, your movie is going to be noticeably bad.

But games? There are games that have sold a bunch of copies, developed by one person, with brilliant game design, highly playable, not noticeably buggy, but if you look inside them it'll turn out it's just absolute dogshit. They barely are holding up against the strain of just existing.

The kind of game that when the sequel comes out, they just throw it all out instead of reusing any code, because it's all so terrible that it'd be more work to adapt any of it than to just burn it.

That happens so often. But you would never guess it from just playing it. Like, if you think about "badly programmed games" you get things like "skyrim", which is just... Not exactly right.

Skyrim has lots of bugs but that's because it's trying to do so much. It's simulating a huge world with so much interactivity and so many complex interacting systems, that it's almost inevitable that it'll have weird glitches. It'd take so much playtesting and careful bug fixing to make that game glitchless, and they clearly did not do that. The game is known for glitches, but not crashing (unless modded), suggesting their QA approach was "weird unexpected stuff can happen, but the game must continue working".

Or Pokémon red/blue! That game is so glitchy, with so many bugs, but a lot of that is that it is just stuffing way too much game on a tiny cartridge. Its only failing is that of Icarus: it flew too high, too close to the sun, it did too much.

Skyrim and Pokémon gen1 are examples of amazingly coded games, even if they have their glitches.

But there's games that seem to work just fine that are held together with toothpicks and duct tape, at best. They're immensely fragile, and they only work at all because the crash bugs were fixed, painfully and slowly, far more painfully than they would have been if the program had just been designed correctly in the first place.

Just absolute disasters of game programming, but then those games go on to be critically acclaimed and start entire mini-genres because of how influential they were on certain gaming niches.

But you'd never know! That's the weird thing to me.

#Gaming

[lovings4turn]

ᯓ★  𝐌𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐖𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐌𝐄𝐀𝐍𝐓 𝐓𝐎 𝐁𝐄 (𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐎 𝐍𝐎𝐑𝐑𝐈𝐒)

— a few days have passed since you last saw lando, yet your feelings are as strong as ever. there’s nothing like another party to finally set the record straight. (3.2k words)

+ aka. part two of don’t delete the kisses (and my longest fic to date on this blog !!)

+ again mentions of drinking and clubbing, largely fluff . lando n reader are only slightly tipsy ! this took far too long to get out but she's finally here - hope you all enjoy !!!

it had been three days since you’d gone to the club, and three days since you’d consequently fled from the club due to your inability to act normally around lando norris.

you hadn’t seen him since then, but you’d texted back and forth from the morning afterwards. you’d felt bad about the whole thing, just leaving without even finding him to say goodbye, and so made up some excuse about getting too overwhelmed and not wanting to ruin his night with your desire to go home.

and because he was an angel, lando didn’t even question you. instead, he instantly accepted your explanation, assuring you it was more than fine as long as you were okay. he could go without a goodbye, if it meant the best for you.

eighty percent of your subsequent conversations were complete nonsense. ever since you had became close all those years ago, lando had taken it upon himself to text you every single thought he ever had, no matter how menial or silly.

embarrassingly, as a result of being down so, completely, horrifically bad for him, you found each and every one endearing. yes, even the god-awful memes he would send you religiously between the hours of two and five am when he couldn’t sleep.

perhaps it was even worse that you’d go on to forward said memes to other friends, pretending that you had found them. you were unable to prevent the laughs that would escape your lips every time your phone buzzed with a notification from lando.

one on hand, you were on top of the world. on the other, you were going insane.

lando had positively taken over your mind, every corner of your head filled with deep brown curls and impish laughter. even the most menial things proved to link back to lando in some way, a tangled red string of association that to anyone else would make zero sense but was obvious to you.

you were icarus, and lando the sun; something to dream of but never to have. you were certain that if you chased him, your wax wings would melt rapidly as you succumbed to your impulses before you crashed onto the harsh ground of reality.

learning to cope with the heavy feeling of yearning was something you could do. suffering with a little heartache to keep lando in your life far outweighed not having lando at all.

being definitive in your decision to bury your feelings didn’t mean it wasn’t a struggle, though.

now more than ever, it seemed impossible to not think about lando, or talk about him, shout his name from the rooftops so the whole world could hear the praises you would sing for him. it appeared to be a pretty clear sign that you were losing any remaining shreds of self control, but what could you do? no matter how many times your head said no, your heart would tell you that it would always be lando, one thousand times over.

a notification lit up your phone screen, and you were convinced it was a sort of cruel taunt from the universe. 

landonorris just posted a photo!

it was borderline masochistic, the way in which you tapped the notification instantly and allowed yourself to be led to lando’s latest instagram photo dump. alongside a few selfies, pictures of him from that night in the club were littered throughout, and though he was posing with friends in each photo, your eyes were focused solely on him.

without really thinking, you pinched the screen, zooming in a little further to admire every detail of lando’s face that had been captured by someone’s iphone. the moles that were dotted across his face like they’d been individually placed there, the unruly curls that begged your fingers to find a home in them, and that fucking smile.

realisation hit soon after, and you caught yourself with a groan. here you were, sitting looking at his pictures with a dopey, love-sick grin on your face, acting like a teenage girl with an innocent classroom crush.

“god! might as well write all over a notebook that he rocks my world or something,” you scoffed, mock disgust lacing your words.

oh great, now you were fucking talking to yourself. christ, what had he done to you?

in an act of frustration, you quickly liked lando’s photo before throwing your phone onto your bed, partially hoping it would get lost amongst the pillows so you couldn’t find it again and fawn over more pictures of your supposed best friend.

a distraction was what you needed. and so you stood up and made your way into the kitchen, praying that maybe cooking a nice meal for yourself would sort you out. either that, or you could hit yourself over the head with a frying pan and hope that the concussion would remove any feelings that breached the label of ‘platonic’.

and for two whole hours, your plan had worked. 

not only were you able to enjoy the delicious meal you’d made, but also got through a good few episodes of the new tv series you had started watching a week or so ago. the lando shaped hole in your mind had been replaced by witty dialogue and pointless character drama, and you were beginning to think that you had everything under control.

that was until you returned to your bedroom and reached for your phone once more, your lockscreen lighting up to display yet another text thread from lando.

lando: going out tomorrow at 10!!!

lando: be there or be square😈

lando: i need my best dance partner w me

fingers dancing across the keyboard, the text was sent before your brain could even think about the invitation.

y/n: i'll b there🥳

it was official: you were absolutely fucked. 

. . .

it was 10:28pm and you were already questioning your decision to come out.

you would say that you had no idea why you’d even agreed to the invitation, but that would be a lie. you knew exactly what had convinced you to get dressed up and leave your house tonight, and that reason was currently grinning at you from his place at the bar, clothed in another stupid button down shirt and sunglasses, of all accessories. 

how he had managed to make sunglasses indoors not only acceptable, but attractive to you was just another sign of the power that the man held over you. you’re sure that if you told your friends, they’d never let you live it down. and hell, you wouldn’t even blame them for it.

from the moment you had arrived, lando had commanded your attention. there wasn’t an inch of your body that wasn’t intently tuned in to every word he spoke, each movement of his limbs and the expressions on his face. he had you completely hooked, and you were letting it happen, swept along in the riptide of your stupid crush,

whether it was from the pulsating house music, the shot lando had shoved into your hand the moment you’d shown your face, or even just lando himself, you felt electric. sparks of lightning rippled beneath your skin, every last nerve in your body buzzing with anticipation for something that you couldn’t even put your finger on.

butterflies swarmed your stomach, and if someone were to tell you you were looking at lando with stars in your eyes, you would have no doubt that it was true. because as he grinned at you once more, the lively groups of club-goers began to fade away leaving only a vignette of his figure.

you were experiencing every romantic cliche in the fucking book, all thanks to him.

you were unsure as to whether it was a minute or a hour before he was standing in front of you again, the scent of his aftershave almost taunting you as it enveloped you. lando was expertly clasping two vodka cokes in one hand and two shots of tequila in the other, sporting a lopsided smile.

“lando!” you groaned, actions betraying your scolding tone as you reached out to pluck the shot from his hand before grabbing your drink, careful not to cause lando to spill anything. 

the last thing you needed right now was to spill a drink on lando’s white shirt. the sight of the material slowly becoming see-through until it offered you a glimpse of his tan, toned skin was more than you would be able to handle. 

lando held up the plastic shot glass with a cheeky expression, a silent toast to god knows what, before he tipped the liquid down his throat. his face quickly soured, and he wasted no time in seeing off a large portion of his drink in an attempt to rid himself of the tequila flavour.

“woah, woah, slow down there,” you laughed, gently pushing the cup away from lando’s mouth. “got the whole night ahead of you.”

watercolour eyes dropped to glance at your hand, lando’s stare lingering even after you had pulled your hand back towards your body hastily, as though merely being in the proximity of his body was enough to burn. 

you would have thought it odd, if lando hadn’t immediately taken your hand into his larger one and stalked off towards the dance floor, gently tugging you along without a word. your mind told you that lando had simply felt the effects of his drink quicker than expected, and it took him a minute to realise that leading you to the dance floor was the mission he would give himself for the night.

flashbacks of the last time you were out clubbing with lando played in the back of your mind like an old movie, something you would put on in the background for comfort yet wouldn’t pay much attention to. 

one dance turned into two, and then three, and before you knew it you had been dancing with lando for the better part of an hour, both of you expertly adapting your moves to match the vibe of whatever song the dj decided to play next.

one of the many perks of attending clubs with formula one drivers was that there was an ever-flowing supply of alcohol. it was something you’d discovered after the first few times you had gone out with lando and his friends: you would finish your drink and before you could blink, someone had shoved a new one into your hand, the cup still marbled with cold condensation.

your current drink had been supplied by max, or maybe even carlos, a far too strong liquor mixed with nowhere near enough soda for your liking. your nose scrunched up at the taste, and lando laughed before gently plucking the cup from you, his fingers brushing against your own for a fleeting moment. 

a fire burned in the pit of your stomach, noticing that lando’s lips landed perfectly over the lipgloss mark you’d left moments ago. an indirect kiss. 

much like your own moments prior, lando’s face twisted up into a grimace at the taste, and he shook his head furiously.

“that's fucking awful,” he claimed, leaning down a little to shout his complaints into your ear. “whoever bought you that has shit taste.”

“says the man who bought a round of tequila earlier in the night.”

lando chuckled, mumbling a ‘fuck off’ that held more adoration than malice, in your humble opinion. like he had rehearsed it, lando smoothly palmed your drink off onto max before delicately taking hold of one of your wrists, twirling you around just like he had done a few nights ago.

possibly driven by a subconscious want to set right the events of your last night out, you repeated your own actions and spun lando under your arm in response.

lando’s grin was almost blinding, and he pulled you towards him, your hands still clasped by his as he moved your limbs around like the world’s worst puppetmaster.

you were convinced that, had he had enough room around him, he would have spun you both around until you were dizzy, a move he’d pulled many times when you were dancing together in one of your kitchen’s to pass the time it took to cook your meal. 

sadly, lando had to settle for flailing arms and uncoordinated shimmies, his priority making you smile rather than trying to look suave amongst the mass of bodies at your every turn. 

a few other drivers started to join your circle, handing you both more drinks as they tried to engage in miscellaneous conversation and playfully poked fun at yours and lando’s lack of coordination or apparent shame.

unable to control who stood where, thanks to the power of free will, you had been separated from lando, instead flanked by oscar and george whilst he was wrapped up in a conversation with max fewtrell.

thanks to his position across from you, lando was able to catch your eye, his brow quirked slightly in a silent question meant only for you to decipher. you nodded, a clear response to his wordless communication.

as though it were planned, you and lando began to leave. this was how your last french exit should have been; no longer were you alone and flustered, stumbling into the back of your uber with the desire to bash your head off of a brick wall.

no, this time you had lando’s hand in yours, the pad of his thumb brushing soft circles against the back of your hand as he expertly manoeuvred you both through the crowd, informing you that a car would already be there to take you back to your flat with him in tow. 

apologetic texts and goodbyes weren’t necessary this time around, if the loud, obnoxious whooping and whistling from pierre and charles were anything to go by. with their propensity for gossip, you were sure that every inhabitant in the club would be informed of your swift exit with lando within the hour. 

the ride home was filled with melodic laughter as lando made it his mission to unload every observation he’d made in the past few hours onto you. he’d taken particular interest in the argument two girls were having when he was waiting at the bar, and left no detail out as he recounted the whole event like some sort of one man show, his only audience you. 

the streetlights you passed caused a flickering glow to dance across lando’s features, and the momentary flashes of illumination caused lando to look otherworldly, all shadows and contours framed by deep curls.

lando was so caught up in his story that he was oblivious to your wonderstruck stare, completely unaware of the way you were drinking in every last inch of him, committing each miniscule detail to memory and storing it away for a rainy day. 

good, you thought. he’d only take the piss anyways.

the alcohol rendered you both a little unsteady on your feet, and you snorted a laugh as lando stumbled through your front door, catching his shoe on the tiny step that led into your apartment. 

whoever lived underneath you would likely be cursing your name right now, as neither you nor lando were too concerned about remaining quiet and light on your feet as you bumbled over to your bedroom. comfort was the only thing on your mind, though you made a mental note to push an apology letter underneath the poor soul’s door the next day. 

making himself at home, lando threw himself down onto your bed, the plush mattress eliciting a soft groan from him. his once closed eyes snapped open as you tossed a pair of his joggers at him, a pair he’d left at yours a few months ago (and that you may or may not have ‘forgotten’ to return to him.)

“i’ll get changed in a sec,” lando promised, sinking back into your sheets. “you can too. just, come on, lie down for a bit.”

lando delivered two quick pats to your bed, perhaps hoping it would prompt you to join him faster than you already would have. secretly, you were glad that he thought you needed convincing to lie down with him for a moment.

you pretended to consider it, eyes flitting over to where your makeup remover sat, before you gave in, mumbling an ‘okay’ as you clumsily removed your shoes and clambered onto the bed next to him.

the gap between you both was barely there. if you moved your hand just slightly, your fingers would brush against lando’s side. how easy it would be, just to grant yourself a slice of heaven for once.

lando’s voice brought you out of your trance. 

“when you left, last time…”

an unfinished question. lando was clearly attempting to seem nonchalant as he broached the topic that you had both been skirting around since it had happened, his eyes trained onto the thread of your duvet that he had busied his hands with. 

in that moment, you didn’t think you could ever lie to him, no matter how humiliating the truth was. 

“it got too much. y’hands on me and everything, i got too flustered. i just didn’t want to make a fool out of myself, i guess,” you admitted as an embarrassed smile played on your lips. 

a giggle trickled from lando’s mouth, prompting you to roll onto your side and face him with a raised brow.

“what’s so funny?”

“nothin’. just the fact you fancied me so much that you had to run away from me,” lando responded, grinning mischievously.

your response came in the form of a pillow hitting lando square in the face.

“oi!”

the pillow came flying back, but missed your body by roughly a couple of inches, the alcohol clearly impairing his usually decent aim. 

“missed me,” you taunted.

unexpectedly lando’s face lit up at your words, and he rolled closer to you, propping himself up onto an elbow so that his face was hovering over yours.

you swallowed thickly at the sudden movement, eyes darting across his face frantically as though his motives would be written into the curve of his smile.

“think there’s a saying about that,” lando mused, a hand trailing up your side so gently that you half believed you were imagining it. “missed me, missed me, now you’ve gotta kiss me, or something.”

and if that wasn’t a sign to press your lips to his, you weren’t sure what was.

you swallowed lando’s sound of surprise as your lips melded with his own, his mouth soft and warm as he more than returned your affections.

clearly not content with the level of control he possessed, lando briefly pulled back and swiped the pad of his thumb across your bottom lip before attaching his lips to your once more, gently sucking the flesh into his mouth and nipping at it with a smirk.

it was slow, and a little sloppy, a blend of tongue and teeth as you desperately tried to taste as much of each other as possible.

your grip on lando’s shirt was vice-like, as though you were scared he would disappear if let out of your hands for even a fleeting second.

“don’t worry, ‘m not going anywhere, pretty girl,” lando teased softly, punctuating his words with another kiss. “y’stuck with me.”

and suddenly, everything had become clear. it was always going to be you and lando, a love that would transcend a lifetime.

tags : @wintfleur @faerieroyal @starriesworlds @itscrzy @ssararuffoni @tbsloneely @onecojg @basicchelsea

#.° ༘🗝️⋆₊ becca’s drabbles #lando norris #ln4 #lando norris x reader #lando norris x you #lando norris x y/n #lando norris fic #lando norris fluff #lando norris drabble #formula one x reader #formula one x you #formula one x y/n #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 x y/n

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

ICARUS (XI)

NAVIGATION || RAVISHING ALLURE MASTERLIST || NEXT: CHAPTER XII

PAIRING: Nikto x F!Reader (Soulmate AU)

WORDCOUNT: 5.6k

WARNINGS: Angst, threats, exploitation, described stalking behavior, very dark/toxic modeling standards/expectations, explosions, blood, implied harm/injury, death, plot progression, dirty talk, smut/NSFW, dry humping, semi-public intimacy, light dom/sub dynamics, Nikto likes to be given pet-names because I said so, implied previous breath play/cunnilingus/ p-in-v sex/rough sex/finishing inside, clothed stimulation, etc. (Series 18+)

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

“I’m not going to let you do all of it,” you grumble, rubbing at your thigh with your right hand. 

“Walk to me,” Nikto’s dark brow raises from below his mask, pale eyes darting you up and down. “Without your knees shaking.”

Your face flares up, and you bite back a sarcastic comment as the driver of the car walks past, sending a glance to where the Russian packs the back of the vehicle with your bags. Nikto huffs a chuckle as another settles into the trunk, flattening it with his gloved hands.

“Rude,” you mutter, glaring lightly. “You’re getting bold with your words, Nikto.”

“Surely we have failed somewhere,” your guard grunts, trying to scrutinize his talent of fucking you senseless last night. “You are still upright instead of collapsed to the floor. Did I not find that spot inside of your drooling cunt that made you say you would not be able to walk—”

“Okay!” You loudly, raising your hands, breathless in reaction. Your entire body is seemingly being rolled on a spit as waves of fire lick at your neck, and you have to force words out from the dryness of your throat. “I’m going to sit in the car—you have fun packing with your dirty mouth, you brute.”

Nikto hums arrogantly, and the smirk is plainly heard by your ears as they ring in embarrassment. “You did not complain about this mouth hours prior. Nor the tongue, Птичка.”

“Holy hell,” you push a hand into your face, grimacing. Brief shadowed flashes of a half-masked face sitting in the clutch of your legs leave you stuttering wildly. “Nikto!” 

Taking a large breath before opening the dark door, you hear that loud hyena bark of a laugh in return, before you slip inside and firmly slam the barrier closed. 

“Oh my God,” your response bounces off the windows, but the infectious smile grows steadily over your flesh until it needs to be hidden by your hand, tiny chuckles making your eyes crinkle. 

Shaking your head, you settle back and grasp the seat belt, clicking the metal together as the straps pull across your chest securely. 

You were going back to Yekaterinburg, but the realization was…less than concerning. There was a sort of liberation in your blood now—something to be proud of even if it was such a small thing. 

Your eyes glance behind to the rear window, seeing the great form of Nikto continuing to pack the trunk in your absence, back in his regular gear with the suit in the hands of the stylists. You can’t say you didn’t miss it, but having him return to some semblance of normalcy was calming to you. Home was the destination, first and foremost: back to your trinkets and your treasures, fabric, and soft rugs. 

You’d stood up to AMA and the jobs they’d assigned to you. No more parties, you’d told Iakov, who you still hadn’t seen a glimpse of since last night. No calls either. He’d never gotten back to you, but you were sure a hellstorm was brewing above your head.

Lips pull slightly, but the thought is pushed to the back of your mind as just a result of hurt pride. He’d survive. 

But you weren’t too sure if you would.

“Home,” you sigh, bringing back your smile forcefully. Even with all the added challenges being back in Yekaterinburg would cause, you can’t help the thrill of your heart at the thought of familiar streets and faces. Your mom wanted to talk, and AMA was getting on you about showing up to the building for a meeting, both to-dos were competing like fighting cats. 

You still couldn’t tell which was worse. 

The trunk behind you is audibly closed with a heavy hand, the metal of the vehicle moving up and down as Nikto stands back to the sidewalk and rolls his wrist—walking to the door before slipping inside next to you. Cushions dipping, you glance over and tilt your head as Nikto’s knee hits yours, the Russian readjusting his thighs before he grumbles under his breath and glances to the window. 

“All set?” You ask, putting your hands into your lap as your foot hits the small crossbody bag on the floor. It holds a few simple items to help pass the travel time—your book, laptop, phone, and a few scrap papers for random notes or doodles.

Nikto nods, glancing over to you. “Make sure you do not forget anything.”

You huff. “I’m good. Trust me, it helps to pack light.”

You’re given a slow blink, the man’s eyelids narrowing. He hums. 

“You have brought six bags,” Nikto utters gruffly, hearing his frown on the air. 

“And you were very gentlemanly loading all of them,” you grin, sending over your amusement-tight skin as the blank mask offers only numb attention. “Very sweet on me, Big Guy.” 

Nikto makes an annoyed sound under his breath, rolling his eyes partially. “You would not survive a deployment. Too attached to your items.”

You laugh. “Sue me for buying things I’d like to keep. C’mon,” your attention moves as Nikto gives a sharp order to the driver to leave, which he does with a glance backward and a sneer at your guard. “You’re meaning to tell me you don’t have anything you want to have near you a lot—something important?”

The bear-like man pauses as he settles back into his seat, the vehicle starting up. He takes a breath, and you see the Kevlar of his chest piece rise and fall. Nikto grunts, seeming to realize he’s staring at you as he pulls his eyes to the glass of the window quickly. 

“A handful.” 

You sigh before it ends in a soft huff. “Any specifics?” Your interest is obvious.

“None we wish to tell about.” He glances, and seeing your teasing stare, he shifts, scoffs under his breath with no real anger, and shrugs his large shoulders before coming up with a simple answer. “My notebook, then.” Nikto’s eyelids lower, thinking back to the item in the back of his consciousness and the importance it holds. You’d only seen it once, he knows—back when he had written you a grocery list for your penthouse. Hell, if only you could take a glance at the contents now. 

Nikto clears his throat, continuing in a deeper tone. “Rag to clean my weapons.”

It’s a small chuckle he gets from you. “Makes sense. I don’t think I’ve ever seen them dirty before.”

A steady silence falls before the Russian feels the need to speak again, and in his mind, he replays every word that you’d said to him throughout these fast-paced and eye-opening days. Being near you now was slightly different in a way he couldn’t have anticipated. 

Taking in the hues and colors of the city as it goes by swiftly, he frowns and spares you a side-eye as you dig around your bag—seeing your fingers slip out a book and lay it next to you before you flatten out the fabric of your pants. Nikto’s eyes softened gradually, but no one would ever notice unless they knew how to read him as perfectly as a midnight storm: trying to pinpoint where the thunder came from. He clears his throat and blinks, raising a hand to itch at his neck, pushing and pulling at the cover of canvas until his senses level out once more.

He enjoyed last night. Immensely. 

In his head, it’s all he can say about it without deeming himself a malleable fool. Some kind-coated idiot who hadn’t seen the betrayal that such a care can bring. Allowing himself to get emotionally involved is a death sentence, and Nikto was always pushing himself to be the perfect image of order. But with you, it was different, or, at least, that was what he told himself. The reminder of your sweat-heavy scent was firm in the back of his nose. 

The Russian’s body angles itself, and in a sure movement of his hand, his arm slips across your abdomen and steals the book at your side. 

Your attention darts up, your nice shirt pressed right up to your flesh as Nikto’s sturdy arm slides along it like a snake. You mutely watch him, your ribs being rubbed as all at once the man’s roaming grip leaves. Blinking, your heart beats a bit quicker as Nikto brings your book in front of him, tilting his head down to it as you watch. 

It was imperative that you remind yourself that having sex with the man didn’t make him yours. 

As you watch Nikto’s hidden fingers lightly brush the cover, your eyes follow the way he maneuvers the front to take a glance at the spine, seeing as the dust jacket is gone. 

“Crime and Punishment?” The Russian blinks as the car takes a right, slipping along the streets as the houses and buildings start to get more of a distance between them. Nikto looks over at you. “Fyodor Dostoevsky.” He pauses, keeping the book to himself as if trying to understand. 

“Aly recommended it,” your face goes heated at the newfound attention on you. “She read it in University.”

“It is good book,” Nikto hums. “Though, I found Notes From Underground more of an interest to me.”

“I’ll have to add it to the list,” you smile softly. “I’ve seen you read a lot when there’s time—do you like it as much as cooking, Nikto?” 

That seems to make him think, watching the Russian’s eyebrows pull in minute wonder. You wished you could understand what blue looked like…you were sure his eyes were beautiful. Especially when he was actively attempting to keep the conversation going. 

“We have not thought about it much,” he grumbles, flipping your book open to where you had placed a small strip of fabric as a bookmark—Nikto picks the thing up as he speaks. “Both are calming. Good distractions.” He looks at you. “I would not give rank, though there is a time and place for them.”

“Fair,” you breathe, shrugging. You lightly lean into his shoulder, and you hear Nikto grunt as his attention stays like a cat. “But I do have to say I think your cooking might be higher on my personal scale.”

A soft puff of air sneaks out of the mask and Nikto shifts his head down as you elbow the rough material of his gear playfully.

“Добро.” His tone is low, grating as every little ache from last night seems to flare in your muscles. “I…enjoy cooking for you.”

You stare at one another for a moment, getting lost in the intimacy of an open gaze, before you blink quickly and move back, chuckling as your body burns. Like a bird, if you had feathers, they would be puffed up by now. 

Nikto watches your fingers fidget in your lap as he twitches his digits against the cover of your book, setting it on his thigh as he spares a look at the driver. The man’s eyes are visible in the mirror, and when they lock, those dark brown orbs dart away as if on fire; blond hair cut close to his scalp. 

The ex-soldier watches the back of his head for a few moments, thinking. 

Hell, he would be lying by saying that he wasn’t on edge ten times more than he was before. Anyone glancing at you could be the person he’s after—it was maddening to the point of making him obsess over your safety to the tiniest degree. 

And yet, there had been no further texted images: no messages or dead birds. No bombs. 

Just that one.

‘I know what you did.’

Yes, Nikto thinks, sighing under his breath, you do know. But do you know what we did in that bedroom last night? Why don’t you come and punish me for it? Hm? 

“Pathetic,” the Russian whispers to himself, fingering the paper below him until he can peek at the next page to see where you were in the story. 

You turn your head from the window, watching gray trees finally begin making a permanent appearance. 

“What was that?”

“Nothing,” Nikto mutters, attention-catching on that point he’d made to himself. Last night. He backtracks, lowering his voice until it’s only you who can hear—side glaring at the driver like a skittish mutt. “You are...” Pale eyes dig, pulling into a narrowed form as if your mind was the same as the book he holds open. Something to be read. “Adequate?”

Your brows pull in. “Why are we whispering?” You ask, keeping the same tone regardless as you lean closer again; both nearly nose to nose.

Nikto glares, but you can’t see his face beginning to slowly change shade. 

“We are asking if you are fit for the long ride.”

He sees your eyes blink slowly. “I’m fine…Why wouldn’t I be?” 

The Russian stays silent, openly staring without any discernible emotion in his eyes. You hear him take a breath, glancing once more at the driver, before leaning in further. He huffs sharply. 

“Are you alright after what we did—” A kiss is placed on Nikto’s hidden cheek as your laughs echo in his ear. 

You lean backward a bit, amusement leaking from you. Sparking eyes meet the ex-soldiers, frozen and taken aback with unmoving eyes. 

“I’m just joking, I know what you’re asking me,” you tilt your head, smiling as Nikto’s orbs dip to stare as a swirl of emotions moves in his gut. He swallows, unable to look away. “I’m fine,” you mutter, feelings softening to a bashfulness. “Nothing to worry about…I don’t break easily.” 

“Hm,” Nikto’s form returns to where it was previously, and you can tell he’s blushing, even if you can’t see his face or name the shade he would be. Yet, he’s still as blunt as ever as the smirk comes back into his voice. “...Are we sure, Птичка?”

“Bastard,” you huff, motioning with a hand as the Russian almost purrs at the dirty banter. Your finger points to him as you unclick your seatbelt, shifting so you can put your head into his lap similar to how you had on the drive here. Looking up, smug eyes stare down—your finger in his face making him want to grab at it as a dog does fresh meat. He still remembers how your skin tastes; he’s not too far gone to admit he doesn't like how he’s addicted to it. 

“You’re getting confident now.”

“We were always confident,” he grates through his accent. “You’ve given us something to battle your need to annoy me with.” 

“I like to call it teasing,” you smirk and Nikto’s leather gloves grasp at your neck carefully, making you pause as your eyes widen. Instinctually, you open the skin more to him, head tilting back and legs shifting over the seats to break open before you stop yourself with a small gasp.  

Those sand-paper laughs make your thighs close in on themselves as you glare weakly, face lighting up with pure embarrassment as Nikto’s fingers squeeze. You’re ashamed at the pulse of your core. A dog in heat.

There’s a face in your ear.

“One good fuck has you trained, hm?” 

“I’ve had better,” you try to hiss, one eye going to the oblivious driver. A second hand moves your book to the floor before it grabs at your thigh, going to pry it open with fat fingers. You strangle a gasp, biting at your lips as you squeak at the sensitivity. “Nikto,” you breathe in warning.

A palm cups your core, and you strangle the limb as the heel is rubbed against your clothed clit. He finds it with no trouble at all: already having you memorized.

You hear Niktto’s heavy breaths—his pulsing grip at your neck as you fight a whimper and your eyes flutter. Your pelvis starts grinding downward in broken stutters, and the Russian leaves his hand there, body completely hanging over you as he stares at the back of the driver's head, wanting to lick the flesh beside your ear, and for the first time, damning his mask. 

“Have you, yes?” Nikto wonders, words so steady no one would imagine what was taking place. “Hm. Maybe we will have to leave you alone next time, Little Bird. Get you to find someone else who gets you to scream like I have. Do you remember it?” 

Your panties are soaked, and the fluids leak out onto your pants as you continue to rut into Nikto’s gloved palm, back arching over the bulk of his thigh to push your body over his lap, getting a better angle as your guard follows. You listen, and Nikto’s getting harder by how your spine runs its vertebrae over his clothed dick. He jerks once or twice up into it, not above fucking you in front of someone else if this escalates any further. As long as you keep your eyes on him when you cum. 

He likes hearing the small noise you make as your orgasm hits.

Nikto breathes, finishing his sentence as you get yourself off to his palm like a good little charge, “How you pleaded for my cum inside of you, Seraph?”

Your cunt flutters, wildly sensitive from last night enough to a point where every grind of your hips felt like Nikto’s cock was still bullying its way in and out of you. 

“You cried, yes? As we were bouncing you up and down? How many rounds did that pretty cunt take as you took me so well? Four? Пять? Шесть? Oh, Птичка.” Nikto glances down at your work, smirking as his scars pull tight at the image of the slick over his glove. You were drenched—he almost felt bad. Almost. 

“No, we know better than to play with my meal.” He burrows his face into your neck, beginning to let his hand move up and down as your thighs shake, he knows that feeling—that little tell of yours. “No one makes that pussy as wet as I do.”

“Shit,” you whisper, eyes rolling back and your throat tight with the fight between rabid moans and curses. Have to be quiet.

Your flinching eyes worriedly darted to the driver, who still hasn’t looked back at the two of you at all. If anything, the idea of getting caught…well, your hand sneaks down to Nikto’s wrist, pushing him even closer as his smooth chuckles mar your eardrums. 

You whine under your breath as you force his palm into you, angling it just right against your clit before your eyes start to roll back in broken increments—lighting making your back arch and toes curl. There are tiny squeaks from the leather seats, but nothing else. 

“Good,” Nikto pants, rubbing his erection into your back. “Tell us we are right.”

“You’re right,” you hurriedly whisper to him. “So wet for you, Baby.”

His eyes spark, and he ruts a bit harder, making you stifle a squeak. “Say it again,” he orders, eyes glinting inside of his sockets.

“Baby,” you wince, legs trying to suck in his fingers as your thighs close and rub into them harder. “Nikto, Baby,” your teeth mark your lips heavily.

His shaky breath in your ear accompanies you as your eyes roll back and your spine arches, and, part of a sharp noise exits your mouth as your orgasm hits you, before the hand at your neck sloppily places itself over your drooling lips. 

Layers of electricity playing through your weeping cunt, you fight for breath out of your nose as your eyes glaze over, head partially hanging off of Nikto to the seat below as your legs slowly stop their thrusts. 

A minute or two passes before your guard leans back, taking his hands off of you and grunting in masochistic pleasure as the ache of his untreated erection still grinds itself into your back slowly—almost torture in the way it keeps him aroused and unable to soften. 

Nikto’s grip finds your stomach after he can feel his dick leaking out into his underwear, making a cold mess against his flesh. In a hidden idea, he pushes his hand down into you so he has a better angle to thrust against a firm surface, letting his head connect with the back of the seat as he fucks up into you with his flexing thighs and clenched jaw. 

Your eyes pull open to watch him, your mouth half open as your study of his panting chest falls to how you can nearly feel the way his cock drags. He doesn't care at all about anything else about how it feels to get off against you—it’s not as good as finishing inside of your cunt, but he can imagine the warm walls well enough as he begins to make cut-of groans in his chest. Using you like a doll, your wide gaze stays stuck on the sight like glue. 

“I am going to fuck you in your bed,” Nikto sighs, only telling himself as he’s still violently aware of the audience he keeps. “Use that penthouse as an excuse to lay you out on every surface. Yes, fuck you good. Keep you and your soft body pleased with every drag of my cock.” 

Yet, he’s less concerned with the driver’s eyes now that you’ve cum in his hand—his sex appetite is strong, just as his regular one is; embarrassment is a myth to him regarding it. How many times had he resorted to locking himself in a bathroom when he was in the military, just to jerk off while watching in the mirror as thick ropes of cum splattered his chest? How many sneaked sessions in his barracks until his eyes would roll back, and he had to grind into a pillow with the cold stains of previous loads making him moan?

As long as he could see your eyes looking into him, he could bust just by a touch at his crotch.

Nikto strangles a low groan, shudders violently, and then his thighs stop—sag, and he pants, going limp against the seat. The spurts of his orgasm leaves wet patches in his pants, and he can imagine it pooling, instead, out of your pussy as it should be.

The both of you lay in the sopping remnants of your insatiable lust, leaking out to one another, and only think about what you both can have once you’re back in Yekaterinburg and alone.

Maybe there won’t be a meeting with AMA or my mom, you think as Nikto rubs a thumb down your cheek—letting your eyes slip shut softly as your nostrils flare with every breath. He hums in satisfaction, petting your thigh as he massages your inner leg.

Maybe we’ll fuck so much we’ll end up forgetting our names instead. 

Hell, it didn’t sound like a bad idea at all.

—

Halfway through Nikto’s audible reading of Crime and Punishment—in which he sometimes lapsed into Russian rambles in the middle of a sentence—you shift against the seat and mutter out a question. 

“So, he’s going to try to get away with murder?”

Nikto pauses in his speaking, looking over from the page as his mask shines into the light. It’s a little past noon if you had to guess. “Да.” Nikto’s brows furrow. “We are four chapters in—have you just noticed?”

“You’ve been speaking in Russian for the last fifteen minutes.”

Nikto curses under his breath, glaring at you incredulously after he closes the book with a single hand. “Why did you not say?”

You smile slowly. “It sounded nice?” 

The man sighs out loud, bringing up a hand to push into the plate at his nose in a funny display of exasperation. A laugh makes its way out of your mouth, and you shake your head. 

“It’s alright—I don’t mind. I just like listening to your voice.” 

“Hm,” Nikto looks at you, huffing, but you can tell he takes it to heart by the way his shoulders sag a small bit. “You are strange, Woman.” 

“As I’ve been told,” you breathe, chuckling. “You’ll re-read it to me later?”

The Russian’s head tilts to the side. “In русский or English?” 

Your eyes glint, your smirk rising, and you let the question sit in the air until Nikto’s eyes pull in understanding the longer you stare at him. 

He hums deep in his breast, gaze molten heat.

“Русский, then. Да, I will not complain if you enjoy it, Птичка.”

You call out breathily as you stare into his eyes, “Thank you, Baby.”

Nikto’s spine goes rigid, and before you can snort you slap a hand to your mouth and level your head to the window, body shaking with muffled laughter.

“Нелепый,” the man growls out, pushing at the fabric of his crotch and shifting his abdomen as your loud snort slips out. “You are much too confident in your abilities now—”

The car begins to shake and the driver curses out loud.

Immediately, all teasing is cut like a blade as Nikto’s eyes slash forward: slitted. 

Both of your attention is locked onto the driver as he snaps in Russian, banging a hand to the wheel as your body pauses. 

“Nikto?” You ask the question under your breath.

Your guard slips forward in his seat, grasping the back of the driver’s seat and growling out a low question in his native tongue. He only looks over his shoulder to you after a long and heated discussion. 

“He says the vehicle is not acting correctly.”

“Not acting correctly?” Your face pulls, form getting more rigid as the car veers off the main road to the side, grumbling like an animal as the hood shakes. “Why? How? It was working just fine yesterday.”

“I do not know,” Nikto utters, eyes narrowing. He glances at you, tension growing in his spine. “Keep near us. Do not leave my sight.”

“Right,” you nod, ears twitching as the driver parks the car and gets out in a huff, barking expletives and waving his hands. A sliver of nervousness slips into your blood.

Nikto has a bad feeling. 

The hair on the back of his neck stands up as he pops the door open, hearing his boots hit the asphalt as he breathes out. Standing to his full height, he keeps the fuming driver in the corner of his pale vision, holding the barrier open for you and keeping you from the mostly vacant road as a car passes quickly. 

“Slowly,” Nikto mutters, grabbing at your arm to make sure your lack of coordination didn’t send you to an early death. 

You give him a small smile, and he stares for longer than he should before the Russian blinks, holding you away from open traffic—his body keeps itself nearest to the road as you both move to the hood. 

“That can’t be good,” you murmur with a raised brow as the driver smacks the vehicle, waving his hand in front of his face as a thin tendril of dark smoke mists through the air like a grim cloud. 

“No,” Nikto stares, his fingers sliding along the fabric of your shirt—curling just at the small of your back. “It can not.” His unimpressed voice carries over the area as another car passes.

You stare lightly after, knowing it’s the second vehicle that belongs to AMA just by the make and model; especially by the license plate. It carries a number of personnel—most likely Iakov, your stylists, and a photographer or two. The car sees that you’re stopped, slows, and also pulls off the road a large distance ahead. 

“At least we’ll have another ride if this can’t be fixed,” you comment as you and your guard join the driver, Nikto grunting in Russian with an order to stop denting the car’s frame. A sigh slips your lips and you stretch carefully—raising your arms above your head and hearing your bones cracking. “Won’t be stranded,” you end in a strained voice before you sigh in relief and relax.

As Nikto and the driver descend into clipped words, your phone rings from inside the vehicle. Blinking, your body is quick to shuffle the way back and snatch the thing out, retreating to the grass to the right of the scene and a small way away—it’s still easy to see how Nikto keeps an eye on you, however. 

With his comment yesterday about a new picture from the stalker, you weren’t keen on being away from him either. The thought makes your skin crawl, but you know you’re better off never seeing whatever the contents had been…you’d already seen enough of that freak’s ‘pictures’ to last a lifetime. 

Answering the call, you push the phone to your ear. “Seraph,” you say, half-facing the road and half to the tree line. Your drive back home had barely started—already you’d run into trouble? These last few months were continually stacking on top of one another for the top ten worst moments in your life. 

Galina’s voice pushes through. 

“Where are you currently?”

Your face loosens, brows twisting. “Driving back to Yekaterinburg now, we just ran into some car trouble,” you pause, seeing Nikto going to open the hood but being stopped by the driver, who seems to think he can do it himself without any help at all. “...Is there something going on?”

Nikto only breaks away in attention to look over to you every so often, his fingers twitching and shoulders wound up under all that gear. 

Why is he so tense? You have to ask yourself in curiosity before your guard’s head snaps to where others from the second car spill out, beginning walking to you three—coming to help like little trees down the line of asphalt.

Running your free hand over the back of your skull, as always, Nikto’s nervousness makes you tense; especially when he shifts his hand to brush his beretta like that. That dark void of a mask is permanently stuck giving you half of a glare, and you can perfectly imagine his jaw clenching.

But everybody here was trustworthy, weren’t they? 

Iavov’s shorter stature makes its way forward quicker than the others, calling out words that you can’t hear. He holds something in his hands, and it glints in the light.

Galina spares no chance to breathe between rapid clipped sentences. 

“Sergi has had to be released from custody—Yaromir and I have little concern he was involved in anything that resulted in harm to another. We can not keep him.” You had expected that; it wasn’t surprising. “But he mentioned something that I believe you should know before you return.”

“What is it?” Your voice is low, concerned as Iakov and the rest raise their words. Nikto barks at them in Russian to stay where they are as his eyes glint dangerously for no discernible reason. The driver shifts his fingers away from the hood as you begin shuffling closer as well, spine straight with tension. 

The air was alive with a cord ready to snap.

“He mentioned something about knowing a man who works at Allurement in an off comment when he didn’t realize he was being recorded.”

Your feet speed up to the car almost instinctively. 

“Who?”

“We were unable to push for a name. Sergi got far too nervous and shut down on us; there was little left to do. But there’s another thing.”

Heart pattering, you call to Nikto stiffly, seeing him only hold a hand out to tell you to not come any closer. You frown, disregarding the concern, and are now about five feet away from the car and eager to figure out what’s wrong with it so you can leave—you feel eyes on you, and in a paranoid moment, your vision darts to the approaching group of six. Closer now.

“Seraph,” Nikto grinds out. “Stay there. There is something that we do not like about—”

Galina’s continued explanation interrupts your Russian just as the driver gets the hood finally open with a loud call of victory. You blink, your fingers over the phone gripping the device like a woman strangling a knife while facing a home intruder. 

“Sergi was spotted disposing of multiple cameras by way of selling them off to anyone who would take them all over the city. We’re trying to track down the buyers, but we don’t believe the cameras were his to begin with. He’s hiding evidence for someone.”

There’s a bright spark that makes your eyes flinch shut like you’d been staring into the sun. Head snapping to the side, you cover your face with a heavy hiss as you halt in your tracks, stepping back as Nikto’s loud voice carries. 

“Seraph!” You startle, legs dragging across the ground. “Get down! Немедленно!”

“—There is reason to believe that Sergi has a close connection and a willingness to protect whoever is behind these events. Perhaps even the evidence from the explosion at the bakery was tampered with—”

The car bursts into an inferno just as Nikto’s body connects with yours.

Meeting the ground hard, the man rolls along with you as the air is snatched from your lungs and skin whipped by fire—the sound of screeching metal so loud that the resounding ringing in your ears is immediate as debris whizzes past your head.

In the exit of all air from your lungs, your phone is lost as you gasp sharply.

There’s a sting of pain across your face—in your arm as well as Nikto drapes himself over you with a firm bark of a gut-twisting curse, gripping and dragging you until you’re stapled to his chest.

Far above, the screaming and the sizzle of flesh all melt together into the image of a gray sun. Smoke wafts away on a slow breeze, and the body of a panting man above you is voided until null even as hands pull you from him to stare down at you—at the crimson blood that he can see in such vivid detail.

There’s only the sensation of him calling your name frantically before it all gets sucked into oblivion around pale, horribly panicked eyes.

TAGS:

@anna-banana27, @random-thot-generator, @midwesternwitchery, @pumpkinwitchcrusade, @halfmoth-halfman, @alpineswinter, @blingblong55, @cryingnotcrying, @lxne20, @not-eclipse, @theecoffeebean, @phoenixhalliwell, @h3ll-guttz, @tiinkerbell, @genjilvr, @azush4rp, @escapefromrealitysm, @neelehksttr, @aeneanc, @finnigansxz, @cowboybaby2, @delaynew, @doggydale, @zapphir, @littlemisstrouble, @xxtmoe, @grizzersmamma, @andreas-river, @blogdddxx, @jade-jax, @emthegrace, @lovebugmsyd, @makariaspresence, @noisyprofessorhoundsalad-blog, @scythebot, @blueoorchid, @kra-rino4ka, @caramlizedtomatoes, @strawberymilk,@frazie99, @homicidal-slvt, @develised, @crispyhusband, @cathnoneofyourbusiness, @ghostslittlegf, @generalcloudtraveler, @azsteris, @rvjaa, @creminemisinthehizzyforshizzboy, @comsyki

#ravishing allure #cod #cod x reader #cod x you #call of duty #x female reader #call of duty x you #mwii nikto #nikto x reader #cod nikto #nikto #cod modern warfare #call of duty mw2 #cod mw22 #mw2 2022 #mw2 #call of duty x reader #cod mw2 #call of duty modern warfare #modern warfare 2 #call of duty mwii #cod x female reader #x fem!reader #female reader #call of duty smut #cod smut #x reader smut

[ivyppoison]

‘STUDY’ SESSIONS WITH FELIX CATTON

Felix strikes me as the sort of person who will try to put some sort of effort into his studies whenever he isn't partying, suffering from a hangover or passed out in the comfort of his bed.

Whilst he enjoys studying on his own; a cigarette between his first and middle finger, smoke billowing in the cascading rays of golden light, and possibly shirtless, he also enjoyed the company of someone else.

You.

Specifically in the four memorable walls of his dorm.

At first, it was quite difficult to convince you to join him; consistently using the argument that it will be much more nonchalant in the library, yet, Felix always disagreed.

Soon, you joined him in these weekly sessions.

The windows were always open as the sun directly shone almost perfectly into Felix’s room at noon, peach and honey in the air. To you, he almost seemed like a caricature of the ravenous Icarus, except he didn’t fly close to the sun, but instead, the sun sought out him. His pious skin was like nectar, his hair a gift from the gods.

You couldn’t help but stare in awe at the man.

And his goddamn smile.

Any time you called out his name, he always turned to you with this fascinating look on his face, with his signature grin and a glint in his eye, causing a rupture of butterflies deep down in your gut.

One thing that certainly didn’t help with your situation was the fact that Felix was an affectionate, possibly over affectionate, person.

His hands always found their ways to yours, or he would rest his chin on your shoulder whenever he needed to peer down at your work, kissing the crook of your neck before turning back to his own.

Those molten kisses which you’d treasure forever with your whole heart, with every fibre of your body, with everything inside of you.

You had to swear to yourself to never dramatise the fact he had only kissed you once or twice.

The undeniable endearment ( which you attempted to deny multiple times ) you had for him almost blinded you from his seemingly platonic displays of intimacy. He cancelled numeroussoirées he was invited to, and it became apparent that he was spending most of his spare time with you.

A drunken Felix, however, came into your care when you arrived at his dorm to study.

He welcomed you in with his perfect smile, and his perfect soul, holding you tight in the comfort of his arms as he always did.

Jubilance filled the creases of his mellifluous eyes as he looked at you, encapsulating you in his body still, his breath was warm on your skin as he led you to sit beside him on his bed.

For him it must have been a blur, yet, you remembered how his lips found yours as he unconsciously pulled you closer towards him.

Drunken and tender kisses tattering your body.

Your first response was to push him away gently, a silent plea almost, hinting at the fact he was heavily intoxicated and had no idea what he was doing.

In response to this, he decided to lay down in your lap, the little pools of honey you called his eyes staring softly back at you.

The boy who flew too close to the golden sun, and, by jove, his raw & angelic eyes.

#txt. #*misc #saltburn #felix catton #felix catton x reader #felix catton x you #felix catton x y/n #felix catton smut #felix catton fluff #felix catton fanfic #jacob elordi

[n30nwrites]

Fetch (Shifter! Tf141 x Male! Reader)

Chapter 4 of Good Doggy

Masterlist

Tw - Drunk Assholes (inspired by real stories from me :)), Slight blood warning, Language (its a COD fanfic??), OKAY SO LIKE I GUESS SLIGHT SUGGESTIVE STUFF?? I WANTED TO MAKE IT LONGER. A SMALL SCENE OF NSFW BUT NOTHING TOO DEEP BUT STILL PUTTING A WARNING, ITS IN BETWEEN THE NSFW GRAPHICS. Gaz has a praise kink.

Beta Reader/Editor - @letmelickyoureyeballs

Updated: 3/5/2024

The bar is filled. It’s a Friday night, of course it is but you hate it. You don’t like dealing with assholes. Not after the conversation with Maya.

“I cannot serve you anymore. If you don’t decide to leave I will call the cops.” The man in front of you shouts profanity after profanity, angered by the law. Humans were stupid that way. “Here’s a water.” You slam it down, annoyed.

Idiots. Drunken idiots.

Yeah by Usher starts playing. The club you worked at was loud, you have ear plugs in just so you wouldn’t be overstimulated by everything, but you could still hear enough.

“Why do you have a mask on?” He's irritated already which means that this conversation will not end well. You usually strive to give your coworkers the assholes, not caring that he'll have to deal with it. 

"It's to stay safe, I don't want to get sick-"

The man cuts you off and you debate on spitting in his drink, "That's not gonna keep you safe, the only way to stay safe is to build your immune system." He keeps yelling, and some spit leaves his mouth. You place down the menu in front of him as he keeps yelling, "That's the only way to stay safe, not a stupid mask!" 

You walk away, going to your coworker and telling him to get his order cause if you do you'll be fired. You instead went over to the list of music that was going to play and put on a favorite song of yours, not caring for some disgruntled noise from other patrons as you bobbed your head to the beat, distracting yourself from the day you had.

"Ye lik' this song mo gaol?" It's the familiar accent and the way the hairs on your arms stand makes you more irritated. It was roughly 1 a.m. and most people would be tired. You'd reckon it would start slowly down in 20 minutes, which meant you could get some work done.

You turned to face Soap.

"I'd hope so, I chose it." You tell him as you get closer to him. "You still stalking me?"

"Ah'ahmnot a stalker, juist wanted a drink." He smiles boyishly, as if he wasn't Sergeant John ``Soap" MacTavish with more confirmed kills than unconfirmed.

"At the bar I work at?"

"Juist a coincidence"

"I'd prefer it if you didn't lie to me." You told him while you mixed a drink. "You obviously have something for me."

"A'm in loue wi' ye"

"Not possible." You tell him, interrupting his "confession". You set the drink down in front of him. "$13" You tell him the price.

"I didnae orda a drink?" He looked cheeky, and you wished some part of you didn't find him attractive. But he looks up at you and you can't help but imagine other scenarios, particularly some where you're both naked.

"Well you can either pay for the drink and drink it, or pay for the drink and I'll drink it and talk with you some more." Soap immediately puts down two 20s.

"Th' rest can go to mah bartender." You slip the extra cash into your pocket, going to your POS system and breaking out for your thirty minute break that was required. You grabbed the drink on the counter and left your work area, Soap following behind like a puppy. You found a booth in the corner most people avoided. Sitting down at what could fit five others at most. Your mind goes back to Maya, who’s probably taking care of Icarus, your dog, and Marigold, her familiar. Maya worked as well, but it was an in-house job where she dealt with customers in need of assistance.

"You hurt our feelin`s earlier," He says first as you take a sip of the drink you made. "Hae we dane something tae offend ye?"

"Don't want to get your hopes up." You tell him, "I'm not one for soulmates."

"So ye know?"

"Of course I do. You reek of wolf." He starts to sniff himself and you want to laugh at how ridiculous it looks. "You wouldn't be able to smell it. And it's not a bad smell, just obnoxious cause there's four of you."

"So ye aren't human." 

"Nope, never was."

"What are ye?" You never felt shame in what you were. Didn't feel shame in general, it took Maya for you to start walking around in clothes. 

But you didn't want to tell him. 

"None of your business."

Gaz knows that Price is going to talk about the bloodshed in the morning. He knows that Price already knows but doesn't care to stop it tonight. Price is just too drunk, Ghost doesn’t care, and Soap is who knows where. It wasn’t like he killed humans tonight, just some animals that were definitely going to get the town's attention (He might’ve killed a bear) but not the hunters.

He's decorated in blood and he loves it. It soothes some messed-up part of him. His teeth still have specks of flesh in it, that he licks clean

He smells you. Heavenly you. You who smells like some plant burning. He didn't understand it, but he loved it.

You're next to Soap, and Soap has the biggest grin as you walk together. 

Though you probably don't see it as together. You probably see it as him stalking you, but you don't seem to have your usual air of distaste. You have sunglasses on, something he hates cause he can't stare at them. Your mask is black, and you also have a hood on. You look perfect, he just wishes you were in his bedroom.

Preferably naked and-

Nope.

He kind of hates it at the same time though. Soap getting so close to you, still determined to find a way to be with you. Soap didn't lose hope, not like Gaz did. But he'd be damned if he didn't do something. He lets out a growl, standing menacingly as he runs forward, towards both of you, knocking Soap down as he growls at him, his teeth snapping. If Gaz doesn't get to be happy, Soap shouldn't either.

He just wasn't expecting your reaction.

"Get off him." He followed your command, staring up at you and following your eyes when you bent down to be eye level with him. "God you are so..."

"Cute." Your voice gets higher as you gently rub behind his ears, the blood not bothering you at all. Gaz almost forgets how you looked at him earlier, your words that cut him melted away and he just thinks he has a chance.

You loved dogs, who wouldn't? Even if that dog was actually a grown (hot) man. 

"Look who's such a pretty boy." You kept rubbing his head as Soap just stared in shock. "Such a handsome boy, who did you eat?" You coo at Gaz, who leans into your touch and praise, enjoying everything about this moment. Gaz has to take a moment to remember himself, that the praise you give him is nothing.

But he can't help but imagine scenarios in a different setting.

NSFW Start

It's such a simple setting. In his room, the lights are low. He's flushed, shirtless and on the floor, while you sit above him.

"Can't you be a good boy for me?" You lick your lip before biting it, you stare at him, your eyes actually showing, looking at him with lust and love. A perfect combination, and your lips, god, you were perfect for him. "Come on, you know you want to." You lower your shorts and Gaz gulps, he stares at your cock, mesmerized.

"You're hungry for it, aren't you whore?"

NSFW End

"Arr ye fecken' kidding me?" Soap says, breaking the peaceful moment, and Gaz's daydream. "A' it took wis a wolf fur ye to lik' us?" 

"I still don't like you all, but dogs are always a great company." You keep petting him, Gaz's eyes closing slightly, and Soap sits up. 

"Ah can do that toh." His accent gets thicker as he rushes to grab your hand, forcing it away from Gaz and instead putting it in his hair. Which was mostly shaved on the sides.

"You aren't a cute puppy right now." You yank your hand away.

"He's fooken' bloody!"

Gaz licks your face, and you slightly smile.

----

NEXT

Listen, hating people is one thing but I could never hate a dog, let alone a wolf. Reader still doesn't feel comfortable around the boys, but he does like the dogs.

#ghost x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley x male reader #john soap mactavish #captain john price #john price #john mactavish x reader #john price x reader #john soap mactavish x you #johnny soap mactavish #soap x male reader #soap x reader #kyle garrick x reader #kyle garrick #kyle gaz garrick #gaz x male reader #gaz x reader #captain john price x you #price x reader #shifter tf141 #tf141 #tf141 x reader #tf141 x male reader #task force 141 x reader #task force 141 #tf141 smut #tf141 x reader #tf 141 x reader #tf 141

[atydblack]

trouvaille

regulus black x slytherin!reader

masterlist

this is part one of an ongoing series! think there will be 3 parts in total <3 no cws as this is gonna be pure angst

Being James Potter's younger sister inquired a lot to live up to. James was the perfect Gryffindor student who succeeded in all his classes, exuded confidence with his every word, had soulmates for friends and an even better girlfriend.

You, however, were almost the opposite.

You were sorted into Slytherin in your first year and although they tried their best to hide it, you could see the disappointment in James and his friends eyes as you walked over to the Slytherin table. Your parents were still accepting but there was some clear favouritism in the family, no doubt. You did well in classes however didn't ever see yourself becoming a prefect like James or being top of any classes.

You sat in potions next to your best friend, Lara. Her straight blonde hair and bright blue eyes opposed my black curly hair and dark brown eyes. You had always been jealous of her, she was the type to catch everyone's eye when she walked into a room while you just trudged in behind her.

"Do you have idea what this question means?" Lara asks you, huffing slightly as she rested her chin in her hand.

"You really think I'd have the answer if you didn't?" You joked. You glanced up at Slughorn who had started dozing off behind his desk and you smirked. "Look."

Lara mirrored your smirk and you both dropped your quills on the desk to turn around and start talking with your friends instead.

"I'm bored out of my mind." Lara groaned to your other friend Freya sat behind you.

"Slughorn says if we don't get these all finished, he's gonna give us all detention until we get them done." Freya rolled her eyes, but you could clearly see that she'd almost finished.

"Have you got the number to 42?" You asked her with wide eyes, trying to sway her in to letting you copy her. "And 43, 44, 45... and the rest?"

"Merlin your voices are retched." A voice came from a couple desks to your right, none other than Enoch Wilkes. He was a tall boy with sleeked back greasy hair and a superiority complex due to his family heritage.

"What's your problem, Wilkes?" Lara shot at him.

"I'm trying to actually do my work but all I can hear is Potter's squeaky voice in my ear." Wilkes replied with a grunt.

"She's just as unbearable as Saint Potter except dumber." Icarus Nott joined in from next to him.

"What did you just say?" You spat, standing to your feet and making your way over to them with your wand gripped tightly in your palm, willing to do anything to stand up for your older brother. There was a third boy sat with them, Regulus Black.

Regulus had always been quiet, however he never failed to be part of the horrid Slytherins who gave your house a bad name and thought they were elite causing them to look down on everyone else. He had only made a few sly comments in past years, but everyone knew his thoughts on muggle blood.

You were also a pureblood, but would never allow yourself to feel any prejudice towards anyone else.

You couldn't deny that Regulus was attractive. He looked a lot like Sirius... however his facial features were softer. His dark black hair fell onto his forehead effortlessly and his green eyes complimented his pale skin.

"You heard me." Nott mocked you, not moving from his seat. You had gained a small audience as everyone's head turned towards you.

"What an embarrassment having a Gryffindor blood traitor for a brother." Wilkes joked, not backing down. "At least Black had the right idea and cut his off, what's stopping you from doing the same?"

"Y/N, sit down." Freya begged from across the classroom, not wanting to get either of you in trouble. "He's not worth it."

"You have no idea what you're talking about." You smirked, holding up your wand and pointing it right at him.

You were closest to Sirius out of all your brothers friends. He had moved in with your family two years ago after he left his family and you'd always been there for him, especially during everything that happened with his brother Regulus. Regulus was clearly a lost soul, strung along on the same ideologies as his parents however he would send letters to Sirius every once and a while but continued to act like he didn't exist at school.

"Leave it, Wilkes." Regulus muttered. Funny this is the first time he had ever attempted to stick up for you and it was only to save his own back.

"What's she talking about, Black?" Nott glanced at him, but Regulus' eyes were set on yours as you stared each other down. You knew you would never actually say anything to expose Regulus as doing so would only hurt Sirius too, but you could sense how scared he was that you'd open your mouth.

"She's a freak." Wilkes chuckled. "Just like her brother."

This sent you over the edge as everything turned red. You dropped your wand to the floor and quickly punched Wilkes square in the nose.

"Olive!" Lara shouted from across the classroom.

You felt a pair of strong arms pulling you back as you attempted to go in for another hit.

"What on earth is going on?!" Slughorn announced and you all froze. You turned around to see it was in fact Regulus' arms that were holding you back and a brush grew on your cheeks. "Black, Potter - sit down at once!"

You both complied, with a guilty expression you made your way back over to your desk and your friends gave you an apologetic look.

"I expect to see you both after class." Slughorn continued.

"But sir-!" Nott shouted, attempting to stick up for Regulus.

"I don't want to hear it." Slughorn quickly cut him off earning a scoff from the boy.

The lesson felt like it took hours to end but you felt slightly ill in your stomach when everyone else was packing up to leave but you and Regulus sat firmly in your seats.

"We'll be in the great hall; I'll save you a seat." Lara smiled at you before her and Freya took off out the classroom and to dinner.

"Both of you have detention with Filch every night after dinner starting tomorrow." Slughorn mumbled, uninterested. You scoffed as you were way too used to detention with Filch now.

When you were dismissed, you quickly stood to your feet and attempted to leave ahead off Regulus to avoid any awkwardness. You began walking down the corridor, ready to rant to James about what had occured.

"Potter!" Regulus called from behind you. You stopped in your tracks and turned on your feet with a confused expression on your face. He approached you slowly and timidly before speaking. "I-uh. I wanted to thank you for not saying anything about Sirius and I."

"I didn't do it for you. I did it for Sirius." You mutter before turning back around and leaving him there dumbfounded.

You reach the great hall and make a B line for your brother and his friends. James smirked at you as you approach him with a sour expression on your face before sitting in between him and Sirius, your green robes standing out in the sea of red.

"What's up with you, Y/N?" Sirius smirked before patting me on the top of your head.

"I've got detention again this week." You huff, crossing your arms and leaning them on the table.

"How do you manage to get yourself into so much trouble?" Lily quizzed you, a humorous look on her face that mirrored the rest of the group.

"She takes after me, that's why." James joked but you only rolled your eyes in response.

"Yeah, apart from the brains." You sigh, leaning your head on Sirius' shoulder. You glanced over at the Slytherin table and quickly caught eyes with Regulus, who must have been staring at you. You kept eye contact for a short moment before he turned his head and acted like it never happened. You furrow your eyebrows and listed your head once again. "At least I'm the better-looking sibling." You continue, causing everyone to laugh.

"Keep dreaming, kiddo." James rolled his eyes.

"Go on then, what did you do this time?" Remus questions you.

"I punched Enoch Wilkes in the nose during potions." You say smugly causing everyone to laugh once again.

"I would advise you that violence isn't the answer, however we can make some exceptions for people like that." Remus smirked.

"Tell me about it, they're horrid." You scoff before stealing some food from James plate. "No offence obviously, Sirius."

"Go ahead," Sirius chuckled. "I had to endure it for most of my life."

#regulus black angst #regulus black fanfiction #regulus black x reader #regulus black #regulus x reader #regulus black fluff #regulus angst #sirius black x reader #marauders x reader

[anonymouslosersworld]

♡ Succubus♡ 

Prompt; Mc/reader armed with the teaching Solomon decided to mess around with magical creations and like Icarus flew too close to the sun before falling... in their case fell victim to horniness.

Fandom: Obey me shall me date

Characters: Mammon, Leviathan, Solomon, Simeon, and Barbatos.

Genre: Smut (M)

Contains: dubcon, unprotected sex, dom reader, sex toys, voyeurism??, and corruption kink.

Credit goes to @asmology . They have wonderful blog and written pieces. I was so in love with their charmed series and just wanted to try my hand at writing it myself. Please don't hesitate and check out their blogs.

[Obey me masterlist]

Prologue; After you had successfully enrolled in the sorcerers' academy and become Solomon's one and only apprentice after a couple of months. He had encouraged you to explore magical items and such. Due to many lonely and hot nights, you settled on magical items. Using your knowledge you created a life-like magical dildo/vibrator of your love interest. Unknowingly to you {or maybe knowingly you did but wouldn't admit it}it was also charmed with your love interest feeling whatever you did to it.

Mammon

He couldn't go out there. Not with whatever the hell was fucking him so well. He had the strongest grip on his couch causing him to ruffle the fabric of his couch. He panted as the feeling intensified with time.

"f-fuck~!"

His well-planned scheme was put on hold as he was getting dicked down on his very own couch. His cum dripped from his balls staining his expensive couch.

"mmph~" His cock pulsed his orgasm nearby.

His body felt hot with sweat accuminating. He was hitting the deepest parts he could, thrusting into the feeling that was fucking him. His shirt was ripped off of him as it kept getting hotter and hotter with each orgasm he gave you.

"fuck me~!"

He could feel his tip hitting a spot that made the walls trapping him pulse around him squirm as he continued his attack on them. He was hungry for another orgasm that you took from him.

The last one was more intense than the rest keeping his thighs trembling. With him more sensitive and panting for more. He knows that whatever was screwing with him woukdnt let up until they were done. Without his cum filling you up.

Leviathan

"w-what kind of n-no-oh normie crap is thisss~"

Levi struggles to say as his face is red with embarrassment. His fist slammed into his desk as the sudden inwrapped feeling on his cocks stimulated him.

He couldn't concentrate on his game or continue to play indifferently when he was getting fucked so thoroughly.

"g-gah~!"

What was worse was it happened in front of his very own live stream. He had yet to get off his stream refusing to neglect the newly released game.

Levi's body wiggles as a way to distract himself but instead made it worse for himself as he accidentally jutted his hips towards the lustful fucking.

"normie trap.f-fuck~!" Levi's forehead hit his desk as he finally couldn't keep it in any longer.

His tight grip destroyed his mouse leaving nothing but shards of plastic with his grasp.

Barbatos

Water trickled down Barbatos leg to his thigh as he raised his leg from the edge of the tub. The warm water undoing some of the knots that had been forming on his back. Little droplet of water formed at barbatos neck before cascading down to his chest into the water at his waist.

He sighed as he took a sip from the costly wine and enjoyed the bath salts he had recently acquired from a merchant. While he was grateful he had a day off and deemed it a good day to just do some well-earned pampering he was bored out of his mind. There was nothing to do.

No one to do.

His mind took him to you

"aah~!"

The glass of wine he had been holding had been crushed from his grip.

Something had wrapped itself around his cock completely engulfing his cock. It was warm and inviting. Whatever decided to land itself onto his cock seemed to clench and spasm around his length.

"ooh~"

Before barbatos could even think of dispelling whatever was happening to him, it had started to move. He bit his lip as the walls around him clenched him in and grinded into his cock. The pace was a bit slow but deep and barbatos couldn't help but enjoy whoever was dumb enough to fuck him.

His grip on the bathtub's edge tighten as the pace began to quicken. His cock was being used like a cheap sex toy, his pleasure was only second to whoever was fucking him. His back arched as his cock was overwhelmed by the sudden spasming of the walls trapping him.

"-ark~! m-more!~" barbatos moaned weakly as his head leaned on the tub. His fingers early working on his nipples wanting to cum and unstress himself already.

Barbatos whimpered as you worked through his orgasm. What a greedy thing you were.

Solomon

You wanted to mess with Solomon just as he messes with you. So you had enchanted a lollipop as well as a sex toy. You could already see that the toy you had shoved into your hole was affecting Solomon's performance.

To the normal eye, you couldn't see anything but to your Solomon-trained eye, you saw that he was getting fidgety. He was hyper-focused on the feeling of his cock. You smirk as you decide to teasingly clench around the toy.

Solomon bit his lip, his fist clenched as he tried to go on with his lesson before you put your plan into action. You unwrap your special lollipop with a smile as you watch Solomon struggle.

You lightly breathe on the lollipop causing shivers down Solomon's spine. Solomon lets out a whimper as you roll the lollipop in your mouth.

"Y-you don't play fair," Solomon grunts as he slides down almost giving into you.

"Whatever do you mean my wise Solomon?" You say as you straddle him on the floor he sat down on. You scrap the lollipop with your teeth. Your smirk was hard to miss clearly you were enjoying this.

"Nngh fuuck~"

" Do you like it, my dear Solomon? How do you feel? hm?~"

"F-feels- fuck! Intense."

"I'm going to make you my bitch Solomon. It's what I deserve."

Simeon

Simeon was taking a stroll with Raphael in the garden in the celestial realm finally coming from the exchange program. He was chatting with Raphael about his and luke's experiences with Devildom before he felt just a whisper of something in his pants.

what was that?

His eyes widen as he felt a firm grip on his non-hard cock. Simeon's legs instinctually closed but it didn't stop the grip on his cock. His cheeks felt warm as the hand on his cock felt him up.

He quickly dismissed himself to the closest secluded room near him. Whatever was in his pants was just solely focused on his cock and seemed genuinely happy in fisting his cock with their hand.

Simeon sat on the toilet as the feeling faded.

Maybe he imagined it? Maybe all he needed was to air himself out?

Simeon unbuckled his pants and pulled them off mid-thigh. The air made his cock feel a little sensitive to the cold temperature.

"A-ah~!!!" In the freedom of the restroom, Simeon finally let out the moans trapped in his throat while you took his cock within your mouth shoving him the deepest you could before going back to slurping his tip.

The slimy tongue had encircled the tip of his cock making him feel the entire length of it . Simeon panted as he was tormented by whatever clung to him in devildom.

"p-please mercy~! I c-can't take it." Simeon begged the tight coil in his stomach tighten and he didn't know what it meant. He didn't know what or who he was begging to but his beg was answered.

"g-god~! So-oh~ good!"

His cock pulsed as his cum splattered around him and onto his clothes. His thighs trembled from the intensity of his first orgasm.

Requests are open! Feel free to request!

My works are only posted here! If you see any of my work anywhere else please report it.

Do not edit, translate or repost my work without my consent.

#sub obey me #obey me smut #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me barbatos #obey me solomon #obey me shall we date #obey me swd #obey me simeon #sub mammon #sub leviathan #sub barbatos #sub simeon #sub solomon

[hubristicassholefight]

Hubristic Assholes Tourney Round 1 Part 4a

Light Yagami (Death Note) vs Icarus (Greek Mythology)

Propaganda Below Cut (Beware Spoilers)

Light

Thinks he can rule the world single-handedly through fear and a magic notebook. It Does Not End Well.

He kills people for years thinking he's serving justice but really he just ends up serving himself and his ego. Gets so sure of himself that he thinks he's untouchable and that no one could possibly outsmart him (spoiler alert: someone does). Literally thinks he's a god. Spoiler: Gets killed by an actual god because said god just couldn’t be bothered to wait around for him to die anymore.

He decides he should be the God of the New World and that justifies killing whoever he likes for the 'greater good'. This eventually leads to his downfall; Light my baby my skrunkly my most awfulest man ever. If you've been on the internet for more than five minutes you probably already know why he's here but like. He is mister hubris. He is nothing but hubris. He kills people and its okay! Because he's god :) Haven't you heard :) God doesn't have to follow laws. Or rules. Or be a decent human being. And if you say he's wrong then well. You're evil! The way he thinks is so fucked up i want to put him in a jar.

mr thinks he knows everything & is better than everyone gets a magic notebook that lets him kill people from any distance as long as he knows their face and name. decides that means he's god now and kills criminals and people he decides are criminals (including people who were given verdicts of "not guilty"). when someone goes on tv and says he's evil his first instinct is to kill that person instead of, like, taking five seconds to go "is this bait?" (it was bait). he ends the series pathetic and bleeding out because it turns out god isn't immune to bullets.

Icarus

The OG

Most of you know the drill. He and his dad Daedalus get locked up for suspected conspiring against the king of Crete, but Daedalus, clever bastard that he is, builds wings for them to fly away on. Daedalus warns Icarus not to fly too high or the sun will melt his wings, and not too low or his wings will get wet from the sea mist. But Icarus gets basically caught up in an adrenaline high, and enraptured by the beauty and light of the Sun, tries to fly even higher. His wings melt and he, unfortunately, falls to his death. C'mon he's literally The Guy

#light yagami #death note #icarus #classical mythology #official #poll #round 1 #hubristic assholes tourney #round 1 part 4a

[greenandsorrow]

the fox (1): In the woods somewhere.

Alastor x fem!fox!reader

A soul that doesn't belong in Hell finds sanctuary in the Hazbin Hotel.

"To you I am nothing more than a fox like a hundred thousand other foxes. But if you tame me, then we shall need each other. To me, you will be unique in all the world."

~Le petit prince, Antoine de Saint-Exupery

She couldn't remember anything but a blinding light, her head throbbing with vengeance and then... she was falling.

The girl had winced, she had been confused.

Wings open but she couldn't fly. Like Icarus she fell before she was able to witness the full beauty of being alive.

The recently returned overlord had been intrigued by her unusual presence and that's probably why he hadn't killed her at once. Her poor soul felt his demonic presence almost immediately...

Why of course.

The blinding light had belonged to the car that had hit her... She was still panting from the impact, but there was no pain now. She looked behind her, a fluffy, snow-white tail moving with her.

She heard the antique voice of the radio demon. Her newly acquainted, pointy ears turned to the direction of the sound.

"Welcome to Hell little one!"

She felt like he was trying to control and dominate her mind, with a frequency he could only muster. A sudden despair seized her.

"Hell?!"

The demon got closer, his expression becoming more predatory and less curious. Her heart started beating out of her chest, but he didn't make any moves to hurt her. His eyes were shining a bright red, dead light and he was uncannily tall.

"Let me ask you again. How did you get here?"

He could see that this girl wasn't the average sinner. She looked more like a winner, not that he had ever seen one up close, but that must be how they look like.

"I... I fell..."

His smile widened, but it was not a kind one.

"You're a deer?"

"You dared to call me that...?"

A sudden instinct overtook her when she realized the possible danger and she bared her canine teeth at him.

"You do have guts for a small creature.."

His tone was mocking her, belittling her, taunting her for her naivety. She had no idea who she was talking to, neither did she seem to know where she had landed. Her deep-set eyes were trained on him, the slight tilt of her head an indication of her confusion.

Alastor smiled, his eyes shining even brighter. He seemed to enjoy this little interaction. However, the hypnotizing effect of his voice wasn't working on her. She was scared, obviously, but that wasn't enough. This foxlike soul just couldn't be a sinner. Did that make her have any advantage over him? Surely not.

At first, he was surprised that someone like her would end up in Hell, but that didn't stop him from insisting talking to her, trying to decide if her soul would be a tasty meal.

The radio demon likes a challenge. He likes messing with others.

The girl was terrified. She felt defensive and her feisty attitude, coming from innocence rather than naivety, was amusing to him.

"I'll cut you in pieces deer."

Alastor moved even closer, smiling in a twisted way.

"That's really cute coming from a weak fox such as yourself."

He was getting frustrated. He wasn't having the effect he had hoped on her... and that light she was emitting... Despite it didn't do much damage, he did feel a mild burning sensation as he kept advancing closer and closer to his prey...

Foxes are predators. Deer prey. He had learnt that the hard way, but it looked like the tables had been turned now.

Her light was growing stronger and her teeth were still bared. He had enough teeth marks like those on his body from them... from the canines.

There was a sadistic joy in his voice when he spoke next.

"Awww, you're trying to defend yourself... How funny, maybe I should eat you for lunch instead of breakfast!"

"Where am I?"

The radio demon seemed annoyed.

"In a hotel, in Hell."

Her silence was deafening. She kept staring at him with a flabbergasted look on her face.

"This is a place where sinners are rehabilitated, apparently some want to be redeemed and accepted to Heaven. It is under control of Charlotte Morningstar, princess of Hell. You'll probably see her shortly anyway."

His gentleman like demeanor was a stark contrast to the violence he had seemed to be inspiring just moments ago.

"I see... Maybe if I stay here, I'll have easier access back home..."

But where was her home now? This had to be a nightmare... everything felt so surreal, but a knowledge deep within her was slowly coming to the surface. She hadn't made it when the car had hit her.

The demon's expression behind his eyes shifted to a more cold one. He was a breath away now, so that he could speak directly into her perked up, fox ears.

"You won't ever get back, that's not how it works. A home you say?"

He snorted.

"Your stay here is for eternity."

"I... I am not like you. You're the.. the evil one. I did nothing to deserve Hell!"

Her words had a childish desperation in them. Alastor was curious again.

"You claim that you're not a sinner?"

"I... I do, actually. I was... a... I'm a human... or at least I was one until a few... days ago??"

Winners never remember the details of their death. Everything fades into a blissful oblivion for them. Sinners, on the other hand, are forever left with a vivid memory of their last moments on Earth, no matter how painful they had been. This fox girl didn't seem to fit either category. The oblivious part maybe, but not with any blissfulness evident.

She was feeling lost. There was no point in trying anything. She was dead and she was in Hell. That's what a life kindness had earned her?!

The radio effect in Alastor's voice died down as he became more genuine towards her.

"A person doesn't end up here without being a sinner, so how is it that you're here? You certainly died my dear, but didn't you live a sinful life? No committing atrocious deeds? Such cruel judgment for you to be put here, even if you're half as pure as you appear to be!"

"Have you been here for a long time?"

"Indeed I have little fox! Long enough to have built quite a reputation for myself I would say! Hahaha! But don't you worry your pretty head over it..."

Her big eyes were studying him, but she still felt scared and betrayed from above.

"I'm Hell's most popular radio host, I've been around for years. Don't tell me you prefer the voice of modern podcasts..."

"I used to like vintage stuff when I was... alive."

His chest swelled up with pride and he adjusted his bow tie. Alastor seemed satisfied with her answer.

"Really now? That's a new one, I supposed people didn't like older things in this century. I was a a famous radio host as I mentioned before, not only in death but also during my life!"

For a moment, the overlord was genuinely interested in their conversation. She was a mystery to unravel, maybe even preserve, but he shouldn't even think about it... it would be too nice of him.

"A radio host? You come from... the thirties or something?"

"All the way back to the roaring twenties, my dear little one! I was broadcasting from Louisiana to all of New Orleans."

This girl was so easy to impress and her reactions were feeding his ego.

"That's where I'm originally from! How... how did you die?"

She couldn't have known that's not a thing people go around asking each other in Hell. She was just eager to form any kind of connection, so that she could feel less vulnerable and alone. Still, if Alastor's smile could fade, it would have when he heard her question.

"Not a pleasant tale, I can assure you... and it's not like we just met dear!"

"S- sorry in that case, it's just that... we both lived in New Orleans and we're both forest... spirits?"

Alastor tried to be mad at her, but he found himself unable of doing so. He was amused by her, getting apologetic so fast. The demon begun gently taking the conservation away from the sensitive subject.

"Well, yes. We are, but how does it matter if I'm a powerful demon that has deer characteristics... and you're a lil fox with some angelic traits?"

"You're self assured."

"Haha! No. I'm self aware."

A pause. Charlie appeared and Alastor slipped away.

"I died in the woods."

She had sneaked into his radio station, quick and quite like a true feline. Alastor had been unfazed. Her unexpected visit hadn't taken him by surprise not one bit.

"That's unfortunate."

His gaze was softer now, he was determined to find out what other conditions of her death eerily overlapped with his.

"Take a seat young one. Sooo, what happened to you out there?"

She had been spending all her time in her room, trying to bring back her memories. The faces were still blurred, her own name unknown. She was just a white fox with a particularly fluffy tail. That's what they had been calling her in the hotel, Fox, as if it were an actual name.

"I was... I was trying to save a fox cub that had strayed to the road..."

"You died trying to do something good?"

Alastor was puzzled. The more information he gathered about her, the more obvious it became that she had absolutely no place in Hell.

A sniffle escaped her and she hid her face, ears lowered. He felt a pang of sympathy that he immediately drowned.

"Such a noble way to go..."

The radio demon had gone for a sarcastic tone, but he had failed. His initial urge to corrupt that innocent, fragile creature had left him.

"I keep seeing lights... they could be the headlights of a car, a truck maybe..."

At that point, he felt a bit sorry for her, yet he wasn't going to cave in and show his real feelings.

"Let me put together what you have told me so far. A sudden light hit you while you were trying to save a fox cub and everything went dark after that?"

"Y- yeah..."

Her voice was small, her gaze averted and fingers fumbling with her tail. He felt a primal urge to protect her purity from all the cruelty that existed in the world.

But it was too late. Some driver had taken her life and Alastor hadn't exactly been an altruist while alive. But maybe, had she been born earlier and not in the nineties, he could have been the one behind the wheel. He could have been the one who saw her trying to rescue the baby fox. He would have stopped. She would have survived.

But who could guarantee that he wouldn't have turned her into another pretty corpse afterwards? It would have been so convenient, an empty road in the woods, already close to his hiding spot...

Would have, could have, should have...

He stared directly into her moist eyes.

"Do you remember anything that happened after that?"

"The fox cub died... I remember standing with it by our bodies."

That hit home. He had to watch his body getting mangled by the canines, even after his soul had been dragged out of it. He had deserved the karma. She hadn't.

"The fox died?"

It was enraging.

It was night. First, she heard the footsteps, then the sound of hooves- strong and unmistakable. Soon the sound of static and distorted voices filled the air.

A darkness set upon her room.

"Alastor?"

A growl.

"You don't act like you want to be redeemed you know."

A low grumbling.

She was scared shitless, but she was already in Hell and if he tried to get too close, he'd get burned by her light. His dominating aura became less pronounced as she sat there calmly.

"You want to join me on my midnight snacking?"

This new activity intrigued the radio demon enough for his demonic form to give way to his usual self.

"Is that a way of saying you're sneaking food in bed?"

She smiled and chuckled, the sound carefree and unguarded, the sound of a child sharing something she likes with a friend.

Alastor sat at the edge of the bed.

"Do you always terrorise the residents at night?"

He tried to laugh but all that came out was a sigh. The girl had noticed that his permanent smile rarely reached his eyes.

"You look tired."

Of course she could see in the dark.

He shrugged.

"I have been able to recall more details about my life..."

He tilted his head and got comfy on the bed, kicking his hooves and stealing her snacks as she started with her story.

"I was... camping with some friends from college... I had been hiking when I saw the cub in the middle of the street. Oh lord, I was so young... I-"

Her eyes welled up with tears and her voice got stuck in her throat. Surprisingly enough, Alastor was a good listener.

"You were indeed very young, with so much to live for. How could you just go save the fox at the cost of your life? You're much more selfless than I thought."

The girl broke down in sobs. She hugged herself, the little noises she was making were like those of a wounded fox whimpering. He now knew why she had that particular form. Despite that, things just kept not adding up. A young, selfless and innocent soul should've been in Heaven, made into an angel with fancy wings and all.

The radio demon wanted to comfort her. He patted her on the back.

"There, there, there's no need for crying, dearest! Smile! Scare your troubles away! I'm sure Heaven can't just abandon a nice, young lady such as yourself in this dreadful place! "

Her doubts about Alastor slowly faded away and she crushed into him, wetting his shirt with her tears as she did. Even though it had been the last thing he had expected, it wasn't unpleasant. The demon didn't push her away, his arms loosely wrapped around her as she curled up in his lap, crying rivers. She was burning him, but he didn't care to even mention that fact.

"You're safe little one."

"T- thank you scary deer..."

He started to lightly stroke her hair, while she continued whimpering and mourning, her soft body fitting perfectly against him.

"See how much of a different demon I can be from the average? Instead of looking for a fight, or trying to make a deal, I'm offering my help for free."

"You're a good friend..."

He knew he better not get attached, but he felt pleased that he had earned her trust without an ulterior motif. It was strangely rewarding.

"I'll miss you... I have this feeling that I'll be gone soon."

"You're happy about this?"

She nodded.

"But if you're going, then I guess... you could do me a favor?"

His smile finally reached his eyes.

"Don't forget our little moments, okay?"

"Okay... But you owe me a story about yourself in return..."

A kiss on her forehead had been his answer, as he quietly tacked her to bed and left.

She never appeared for breakfast the following day. Nor at his radio station.

He knew what that meant. She was were she belonged now. She had passed through the portal that he never would.

Silence felt more empty now, a void where she used to be. Alastor walked to the bed she had slept in and lied down. He closed his eyes and tried to clear his head, but she continuously popped up in his thoughts. Eventually, he sighed. He was at peace knowing things ended well for her. The demon chuckled to himself.

Days passed, but he always seemed to be looking for something. It seemed like he was hoping to spot her somewhere. He knew that one way or the other, he would need to accept that he wasn't going to see her ever again... Unless he somehow ended up in Heaven, but he had never thought about that before anyway...

Was it a valid reason to want to get redeemed so that he could visit her up there?

All parts -> here!

💚Please do not repost or directly copy my work.

💚This fic's title is a song by Hozier. I didn't proof read this, so forgive me for any spelling or grammar errors!

💚It had been a while since I wrote something that didn't contain smut/sexual content. I love my explicit fics, but I was on my period and in need of something with lots of emotion.

💚dividers-> @saradika-graphics & @cafekitsune

💚my masterlist

your tips keep me motivated to write! THANK YOU for supporting my blog!!! 💚 CLICK HERE(PayPal link)

lil tag list; @mariaclarade-la-cruz1 @alastorthirsty @mezzo-piano230 @shayshaymonyou

#fanfic #oc #one shot #no y/n #fluff #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel #alastor #alastor x reader #alastor x y/n #alastor x you #alastor altruist #hazbin hotel alastor #charlie morningstar #asexual #the little prince #alastor the radio demon #the radio demon #sfw littlespace #light angst #hazbin hotel rosie #alastor hazbin #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor human #human alastor #alastor hartfelt #alastor hazbin x reader #hazbin alastor x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #vivziepop

[ladykailitha]

Icarus Part 4

Oops! I didn't realize this one had so many chapters done. I had been using it as my "I'm stuck on the other two stories so I work on this one to clear my head" story and I currently have five chapters backlogged. So instead of Batshit Soulmates today, you're getting two of this one. One now and one tonight.

In this chapter we have Eddie doing his research and we find out how he recognized Steve. Also Jeff&Eddie besties for life!

Pt 1 Pt 2 Pt 3

@mira-jadeamethyst @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @emly03

****

The last few days in Hawkins went by in a blur. Eddie couldn’t do the research he wanted to, not without alerting everyone else what he was up to, so he focused on buying both their albums and listening to them nonstop.

“This that band you went to go see?” Wayne asked after three days of him having both albums on constant repeat. “The one you were whining about have to go to?”

Eddie sat up from where he laying on the floor with headphones on and took them off, resting them around his neck. He pulled one knee up and draped his arms around it casually.

“Yeah,” he murmured. “Dustin has been gloating about it, so I would rather you didn’t add to the pile.”

Wayne crouched down so that they were eye level. “This about that secret you found out?”

Eddie opened his mouth to lie but Wayne just raised an eyebrow and he snapped his mouth shut with a click. He let out a low shuddering breath and then nodded.

“Yeah,” he said, “it’s about that.”

Wayne picked up the vinyl sleeve and looked at the cover. He studied the image a moment or two before he said, “You think that someone you know is in the band, don’t you?”

Eddie bit his lower lip and then sighed heavily. He knew he couldn’t keep it from Wayne, but he had hoped he would have been back in Cali before he realized it.

“I’m not one hundred percent sure,” he said tilting his head back, “but yeah. I think I know someone in the band.”

“You jumping to conclusions?” Wayne asked in that gruff but gentle way that was a staple of Eddie’s childhood.

Eddie looked up at Wayne and then shook his head. “I don’t know enough. Not yet.”

Wayne got to his feet with a grunt. “Good. You keep it that way. There’s probably a good reason for all that.” He waved at the vinyl sleeve. “So don’t you go pushing your friend’s buttons until you know that reason.”

Eddie nodded. “I read you loud and clear.”

Wayne ruffled Eddie’s hair and walked away, leaving Eddie with plenty of time to think.

****

Dustin was staying in Hawkins for the whole summer, so when Eddie left, he was finally on his own.

Finally able to get out of his head and do some real research. He also knew better than to do anything than listen to his own music mid-flight. Too many wandering eyes.

Any one of his fellow passengers could be some blogger, Youtuber, Tiktoker, influencer or actual fucking press.

Thankfully the flight was most empty and short.

He was met at the airport by his manager Chrissy Cunningham.

She grabbed his bag, leaving Eddie to juggle his guitar better.

“Record management has all four of you in a hotel nearby,” she told him as she stowed the bag in her trunk. “They want you sequestered this time.”

Eddie winced. It wasn’t for any music related reason, though he didn’t doubt the sequestering would help with the process.

Nope.

It was because last time Gareth and Brian went on a three day drinking bender and were too sloshed to function for at least two days after that. Almost a whole week of recording down the drain because half the band went off the rails.

“Roger that!” Eddie said with a jaunty two fingered salute.

“You can have alcohol sent to your room,” she continued as they got into the car. “But Gareth and Brian aren’t allowed. So if you share your stash, that’s on you.”

“You can count on me and Jeff not contribute to the delinquency of our bandmates,” Eddie bit out. “We were just as pissed as the label when we couldn’t get a hold of them for those five days.”

Chrissy nodded. “Fame can really do some fucked up shit to people.”

Eddie hummed his acknowledgment. “Just please tell me I’m not sharing with anyone. You know they all hate sleeping in the same room as me.”

Chrissy snorted. “Only because you stay up all hours of the night perfecting song, while they actually want to, oh I don’t know...sleep?”

Eddie cackled. He was the world’s worst insomniac when they were working on an album. The rest of the time he was a sound sleeper.

“But no,” Chrissy hummed, “you all have your own suites. With Brian and Gareth on opposite sides of the hotel so they don’t fuel each other’s vices.”

Eddie let out a deep sigh. “That’s great news.”

They went up to Eddie’s suite and he immediately got to unpacking. He couldn’t stand living out of his suitcase and didn’t know how anyone else could.

He ordered a couple of six packs of beer, his favorite vodka, and a couple of whiskys that should last him at least a couple of weeks. He stashed the beer in the suite provided mini-fridge and settled down to watch Youtube on the big screen TV.

He was just devouring everything he could on The Fallen. He started with their music videos. The one for “Kiss the Boys/Kiss the Girls” was especially sweet. He found out that the lead singer was bisexual and that the song was about finding love in whatever form that took. With a full verse on non-binary peeps despite the title.

But the videos weren’t helpful. The band themselves were rarely in them. So Eddie turned to interviews. Impromptu ones on red carpets and podcasts, as well as sit down interviews for talk shows and entertainment press.

Again the lead singer was charismatic and charming. And it was looking more and more like his theory was correct.

Then he came across the interview.

“How does Azrael see out of his mask?” the Vanity Fair interviewer asked.

The drummer pulled out another mask and handed it to Abbadon. It seemed like it was part of the shtick that the drummer never spoke.

Abbadon held up the mask to the light. “You can see that the eyes are a mesh-like material. It works like a one way mirror. You with the strong light, can’t see in, but Azrael with darkness of the mask can see out.”

Eddie hummed his interest. That was a cool trick. It meant that the drummer wouldn’t get hurt while still maintaining that anonymity.

And it appeared that the interview thought the same as they nodded along, impressed.

“What is the reason for the masks?”

Astraeus leaned forward into the mic. “Because when we first got started no one would take us seriously as ourselves?”

Just then the hotel door swung open and Eddie quickly pressed pause. He sighed with relief when he saw it was Jeff.

Jeff stopped in his tracks to stare at the screen. “Oh hey, The Fallen. They’re pretty cool.”

Eddie whipped his head around and glared at him.

“How do you know about them and I didn’t?”

Jeff laughed. “Dude, the radio embargo was you thing, not an everyone thing. They’re really good. I love their new single ‘You’. It’s really sweet.”

Eddie nodded, it was really good. It was one was of his favorites, too.

Jeff got closer to the TV. “Wait. Is this the ‘metal fans would hate us if they saw who we really are’ interview?”

Eddie nodded. “Yeah.”

“That’s such bullshit,” Jeff scoffed. “Metal fans are the most welcoming group of fans out there.”

Eddie chewed on his bottom lip and thought about Steve. And how preppy he still dressed even this far outside of high school.

“Not if they were preps,” he said softly.

That brought Jeff up short. “What now?”

“I think Abbadon is Steve.”

Jeff started laughing and laughing like he couldn’t stop. Eddie rolled his eyes and pulled up the picture he had taken of The Fallen’s lead singer. Once Jeff had gotten control of himself, Eddie showed him the picture.

“Okay...” Jeff said. “I’m not sure what this shows other than your obsession with necks.”

“Zoom in.”

Jeff rolled his eyes but did as he was told. “Okay, so what am I looking at?”

Eddie licked his lips nervously. “You see those two moles, just under his chin?”

Jeff half shrugged. “I mean, I guess.”

“Steve has moles in the exact same place,” Eddie explained. He took the phone back from Jeff and went through his IG feed. He pulled up a picture of Steve. The angle wasn’t exact, but it was close enough.

He handed it back to Jeff. “Now zoom in on the neck.”

Jeff did as he was told.

“Holy fucking shit!”

Eddie pursed his lips and chewed on the bottom one. He played with his rings and was just fidgeting.

“Dude!” Jeff cried. “We should tell someone!”

Just then Eddie’s fidgeting hit the remote and the video began playing again.

“Is there any chance of a future reveal?” the interviewer asked.

Asmodeus leaned into the mic and said, “Ask us again in ten years when we’re world famous.”

Eddie managed to get a hold of the remote to pause it again and in the resulting silence Jeff and him shared a glance.

“Fuck, dude,” Jeff said. “We can’t say shit, can we?”

Eddie shook his head. “It would be like outing a queer person before they were ready.”

Jeff came around the sofa and flopped down next to him.

“Wow,” he said with more than a little awe. “So Steve Harrington is in a metal band...” He let out a shuddering sigh. “And is good. Not just good, but damn good.”

Eddie nodded. “Is it bad that I kinda feel like I’ve been tricked?”

Jeff let out a slow breath. “Look, I’m not going to tell you how to feel, but if no one knows, that it’s not personal.”

“You mean to tell me that no one knows?” Eddie hissed, getting to feet. “Not Robin, not Dustin? Or any of the kids? Because I call bullshit!”

Jeff looked up at him. “Robin, maybe. Those two are attached at the hip. Hell, Robin could even be their slinky and sexy manager, Celeste. But Dustin, man? I wouldn’t tell that kid shit. Not if I wanted it to still be secret ten minutes later.”

Eddie fought to calm his breathing. Yeah okay. That tracked. Robin with makeup and a black wig would completely disguise her to the point that not even her own mother would recognize her if they passed on the street.

“Dustin wouldn’t–” he began but Jeff cut him off.

“This is the kid that spoiled Will’s surprise party that he was planning,” Jeff said, counting off on his fingers. “The kid that would go searching through his mom’s closets and under her bed looking for birthday and Christmas presents. The same one that announced our second album six hours before it was set to drop. I wouldn’t tell Dustin Henderson the time of day if I didn’t want everyone to know about it.”

Eddie huffed. He wanted to argue that all that was little shit. Not really that important. But then he remembered all the times where Dustin would say something out of context, something that all his friends would jump on him for, only for it to be revealed later that Dustin had spoiled some surprise. It was just that no one had realized it at the time.

This time he let out a long sigh.

“Yeah, okay,” Eddie said, sitting back down next to Jeff on the sofa. “And I know that if Steve had come to me and said he wanted to form a metal band, I would have laughed in his face.”

Jeff gave his knee a squeeze. “We all would have. So let’s do what we do best. We change the culture. We make the metal scene open to people of all walks of life, not just the freaks and outcasts. We make it safe for them to come out.”

Eddie let out a shuddering sigh. “Yeah. I could do that. We could do that.”

“Good,” Jeff said, patting Eddie’s knee. “It’s not going to be easy, but we’ve never liked easy.”

Eddie laughed as Jeff got up. “So what are you doing in my room anyway? Don’t you have your own?”

Jeff opened the mini fridge and took out a can of beer. “I forgot to order beer and I hate it warm, so I thought I’d steal one of yours.”

Eddie threw a throw pillow at him, which Jeff deftly caught and lobbed back at him.

Jeff came over and kissed his cheek. “Get out of your head and do something with all that restless energy you’ve built up with this eating away at you.”

Eddie let out a deep sigh. “Yeah, man. Thanks.”

Just as Jeff reached the door, he called out. “What would you and the boys think about inviting them to open for us on our next tour?”

Jeff grinned. “They would probably kiss you on the mouth.”

Eddie threw back his head and laughed. “Duly noted.”

****

Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10

Tag List: @cryptid-system @counting-dollars-counting-stars @papergrenade @spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @messrs-weasley @danili666 @chaoticlovingdreamer @maya-custodios-dionach @val-from-lawrence @goodolefashionedloverboi @i-must-potato @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog @justforthedead89 @vecnuthy @irregular-child @yikes-a-bee @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @anne-bennett-cosplayer @awkwardgravity1 @littlewildflowerkitten @genderless-spoon @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @y4r3luv @dragonmama76 @scheodingers-muppet @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman @eyehartart @dawners @thespaceantwhowrites @tinyplanet95 @iamthehybrid @croatoan-like-its-hot

#my writing #stranger things #steddie #ladykailtiha writes #rockstar steve harrington #rockstar eddie munson #rockstar au

[igotanidea]

Icarus: Jason Todd x reader

A/N: been a while since the last angst,right? ;)

***

When he came back to the apartment, seeing her fully awake, eyes puffy, red and almost closing sitting in front of the computer and cursing her coworker, he didn't think the night would end up like this.

This, being her patching him up.

And ending up in bed together.

Not to sleep of course.

But the way her fingers danced on his bare, freshly patched and sensitive skin, the way her body got so responsive to all his kisses and licks, the way his name rolled of her tongue in that breathy moan.

"Do you want me...? Tell me..." she begged in a pathetic need to confirm he felt the same for her. That she wasn't just his roomate/ friend-ish, who happened to be around in his moment of vulnerability turning into horniness. That she wasn't just being used as a fleshlight.

"I want you. Fuck, I want you." Jason groaned, intensifing his movements wanting to make her scream, to fullfll that desire and lust flooding his brain. To have her nails rake down his back in some sort of masochistic tendency. He was used to pain. It was familiar.

And he got what he wanted, breaking her for good, her moans and cries of pleasure filling his ears and making him twitch inside her, his eyes falling closed from the intensity of the release.

"I love you...." he whispered.

For a moment he was a king of the world. Flying close to the sun and basking in its warmth.

And then fell back to Earth like a mythological Icarus, realising that he lost control.

Took her to bed.

Said some words he didn't mean.

Lied to her.

The only person who stood by him despite all the bullshit, violence, emotional break-downs.

The only person who actually cared.

And it made him freeze. Then roll off her. And lay on the side, his back to her.

Neglecting all the cuddles and kisses and aftercare she deserved and needed after the rough session he just put her through.

"Jason? " her confused voice echoed in his head. This was too much. He didn't want this. Didn't mean it. Didn't need it. "Baby?" Y/N put a hand on his shoulder in what seemed a comforting gesture. And it made him furious.

"Don't call me that!" he hissed rolling to face her with daggers in his eyes, grabbing her wrist in a iron grip "I'm not your baby!"

"I'm sorry!" she squealed in fear "I'm sorry, but you said-- I thought--"

"Then you though wrong! You get some stupid idea in your head?! A little scenario of me and you being happy toghether!?"

"I didn't --"

"Well you'd better get it out now! Cause this? us?" he almost spit that word "is not happening."

"But you said--" she was now sobbing, unsure of how they got into this screaming and crying.

"Just shut up! Shut up, don't say another word!" he yelled

Poor Jason.

He didn't mean to be violent. Never to her. Never.

But the anger issues mixed with guilt got the best of him. And once he started it was impossible to stop. Even though he hated himself for every word. For every action. For every flash of pain, sadness, confusion and rejection reflected in her vulnerable eyes.

And then it was gone. He got it all out.

And instead of screams the room was filled with silence.

"I should go." she said with shaking voice, wiping her tears away

"No, wait, Y/N, I--"

"No, you were right." her shirt and jeans were finding way back to her body as she hid herself from him and the embarassment that started to creep in. "I got too carried away in my fantasy--"

"you know I'm not the relationship kind of man. Never was."

"You said you wanted me... Why? Was it just the heat of the moment? Cause it's not a game to me. "

"I didn't want to be alone..." he whispered,

"Right." she scoffed "Meanwhile, I was the stupid girl who fell for you. Getting used like a sillly teenager. One and done."

"Y/N...."

He refused to admit and show that her unexpected confession got him spinning and his heart beating faster. She fell for him. She loved him. Y/N. Y/N. Y/N. He lo--

NO! FUCK! HELL NO!

He just destroyed both their friendship and any potential chance of being toghther.

Which he obviously didn't care about.

And was just about to loose her for good, cause she wasn;t going to take any more of his shit. Not after being treated like a one night stand. It was impossible for her to go back to what was before and act casual.

Which he obviously didn't care about either.

"Don;t go..." Jason hated how that sound like a desperate begging. He was never pleading. NEVER.

And that tightening grip on her meant absolutely nothing. Not like he refused to let go or something.

She could go if that was what she wanted.

Clear way.

That grip was not, in any way, a method to prevent the inevitable repercussions of what was coming for them him.

Almost as if he believed that the scraps of affection and attention could make up for both his selfishness and the fuck up that was his fault.

No one else's.

His.

"We can't be friends anymore, can we?" he whispered into space.

"No. No we can't." But you also don't want to be with me..." she sobbed and he couldn't fake it, as much as he wanted to. She didn't deserve to be treated likem this, deceived and lied to.

And he shook his head, raising to the top of his honesty with her.

"We know what we have to do, Jason..."

Yes. They both knew.

Before she could get up and get out of his life, he leaned forward captuing her lips in his. For the last time.

So good. Having those sweet, warm lips that he felt so many times before move against his. So good remembering feeling them on his neck, chest, abs and lower....

One last memory....

Don't go.

"Goodbye Jason..."

It was over.

#jason todd x reader #red hood x reader #jason todd x y/n #red hood x y/n #jason todd smut #red hood smut #jason todd angst #red hood angst #jason todd x you #red hood x you

[juuuulez]

📰 | part two: capulet.

info: Carl Grimes x Saviour!Reader, female reader, father-figure Negan, enemies to lovers, forbidden romance, no use of (y/n) because immersion.

summary: During your first visit to Alexandria, when Carl misfires a gun, you’re instructed to “babysit” him. This does not go very well.

previous | next

I’m glad everyone liked the first part!! This one is definitely more juicy. Kids being kids. Writing the next part now, let me know if you have any particular requests!

Also (finally) titled!! Drawing heavily on Romeo and Juliet, except… more spiteful at the beginning.

A few days later, and you’re back.

The town of Alexandria is actually quite nice, when you aren’t being cooped up in a cell.

Your fellow Saviours seem to think so too, exploring the place, taking supplies they deem useful for the Sanctuary. After all, there’s mouths to feed, therefore you’ve stopped feeling bad for all these communities you bleed dry.

Well, you felt a little bad last night.

The lineup was rough, it always is. You hadn’t seen the brunt of it, instead sitting safe in the RV where Negan had all but interrogated you regarding your time locked up; coming from a place of concern for your well-being. But you stepped out just as dawn was beginning to hit, and saw the aftermath.

It was just for a few seconds, to retrieve a weapon from Dwight, but you felt a twinge of guilt as Negan taunted that poor boy.

At least he wasn’t wearing the stupid hat anymore.

Whatever, it didn’t matter. At least that’s what you told yourself. Guilt had no place in the apocalypse, especially not for the Saviours, a group of well earned apex predators in this bleak world.

That’s how you saw it.

You oversee the work of your people whilst Negan is talking with Rick. Everybody respects you.. or maybe everybody is scared of you. Scared of your father. Either way, it works.

You’re comfortable as a leader. Somebody who can give orders without hesitation. At the start, there was resistance. Who wanted to be ordered around by a teenage girl? But eventually everything fell into place, and people realised that you were a central part to this operation.

Then the sound of a gunshot rings through the air, putting everybody on edge. Weapons suddenly unholstered, dropping whatever menial task they were completing.

You command them to stand down with a wave of the hand, going to investigate yourself.

Fortunately enough, the situation has already been handled.

Or mostly handled.

“Just who I wanted to see.” Negan says with his usual prowess, however it’s dimmed by an underlying irritation. He brings you further into the room with a gloved hand on your shoulder.

He positions you there like a prize, something valuable. Or maybe a dangerous weapon. A constant show of ‘look at what’s mine, look at what she can do.’ You quite like that.

“Now, it appears that young Grimes is too trigger-happy for his own good,” Negan continues, to which you finally notice Carl standing in the middle of the room, “So why don’t you babysit him for me, darling?”

The boy is practically seething. That same expression you’d seen at the lineup, pure anger and rebellion.

You could feel yourself beginning to smile.

“Of course,” You agree, a grin spreading across your lips, “I’d appreciate a tour, to see if anything here interests me.”

There’s no reply. Carl glares at you, then shoots a pleading look at his father, but to no avail. Rick nods his head in the direction of the door, and you feel like you’ve just won the lottery. This was going to be good.

Now, you didn’t enjoy toying with peoples emotions, per-say. But getting them all riled up sure was fun.

And a teenage boy? This was like a gift from above.

Grown men grew tired of your commanding nature, they’d get violent, speak out of line. It was a dangerous game, one that you loved. Like a cat and mouse, or Icarus flying too close to the sun.

A teenage boy was much more in your ballpark.

“You play sports?” You ask Carl, who is walking a few paces behind you, begrudgingly following despite the fact he was meant to be showing you around. But you didn’t mind.

He doesn’t answer.

You turn to face him, shooting him a backwards glare of what the hell is your problem. “What, you took a vow of silence, or something?” It’s snarky, immature, prodding the bear.

But it works.

“No, I don’t play sports.” Carl answers reluctantly, his tone flat and unamused. It’s becoming more and more evident that when you’re in power like this, in control, you can be a nightmare.

You don’t bother to suppress your grin of satisfaction, turning back away from him, “Yeah, didn’t think so, stringbean. Bet I’ve got more muscle mass than you.”

This must do something, as suddenly Carl has closed the few paces between you, and is blocking your path from continuing. He’s in your face, closer than comfortable, but you love it.

“What the hell’s your problem?” He asks, clearly angry at your snide little comments. That righteous attitude is back. “You can’t come in here, and tell everybody what to do. We’re gonna fight back, and when we do, you’ll be sorry.”

You give him a firm shove, letting Carl stumble a few feet back, “Yeah, how’d that go for you back there, huh? Aim much?”

It’s a low blow, you know that, which is why it feels so goddamn good.

He opens his mouth to speak, but you interrupt him.

“Didn’t shoot me at the satellite station, either. I’m starting to think you’re more harmless than you’re letting on.”

“I’m not exactly in the interest of murdering children,” Carl retorts angrily, “What are you, twelve?”

“I’m seventeen!” You yell back at him, walking swiftly past the boy, but making sure to harshly bump your shoulders together. “Now show me your armoury. You’ve got something of mine.”

You’re walking too quickly for Carl to shoot back a comment, and he needs to awkwardly skip in order to catch up. This time he takes a few strides forward, making the effort to walk just fast enough to stay in front of you.

He wants to be in charge.

Luckily, you love to be petty.

As the pair of you reach the armoury, you swiftly side-step Carl, entering the room first, much to his dismay. You’re eyes are scanning the shelves, rows and rows of guns and weaponry, with one thing in mind. The bat.

“Too bad we’re confiscating all your guns, this is quite the collection,” You comment, finding a supply sheet to glance over, “Good job on that one, by the way. Aren’t you helpful?”

Carl essentially ignores your sarcasm, speaking from the other side of the room, “Looking for something?”

You turn, a momentary flash of confusion on your face, until you realise that he’s got it. The metal bat clutched in one hand, held up tauntingly. When you take a step forward to retrieve it, he only takes a step back.

“That’s not funny.” You say, a sense of agitation in your tone, that dominant and teasing persona gone in an instant.

It only causes Carl to grin, taking pleasure in this momentary inch of power he’s gained.

“You even know how to play baseball?” He asks, switching the bat into his dominant hand, pretending to slowly swing it.

“I do, actually,” You snap, reaching out to finally grasp the metal bat, taking it from his grip unceremoniously, “Wanna see? I can use your skull as the ball.”

This works to shut him up, judging by how Carl’s eyes narrow into a glare, but he doesn’t dare to say anything. You take this as a victory, once again knocking shoulders as you leave the small space, not bothering to shut the door behind you.

You’re not even a few meters down the street before there are footsteps again, Carl still following you, despite wanting otherwise. It makes that malicious grin to return.

“Aren’t you obedient?” You quip, not even bothering to look back at him as you speak, as if he isn’t worth the time. It’s a power trip, one you’re addicted to, one Carl is unknowingly feeding into. Or, maybe he does know, but can’t do anything about it.

Carl scoffs, “Coming from you. Do you always do everything Negan tells you to?”

It’s smart, getting you to roll your eyes in displeasure, that metal bat swinging by your side as you walk. “It’s called being a good soldier, like you would understand.”

“Yeah? Soldier, or pet?” He continues, and you can basically hear the grin in his voice.

The fuck does he know?

You finally spin around, grip tightening ever so slightly on the bat. Control is slowly slipping through your fingers, this stupid back and forth game beginning to get on your nerves, despite being the instigator.

“You wanna talk about pet?” You spit, closing in on his personal space, “Rick tells you to murder twenty people, and you do it? That’s called being a little bitch, okay, daddy’s boy?”

This works, as Carl’s face twists into a look of anger, his fists clenching at his sides.

But you continue, “This stupid group has had this coming for a long time. There’s no such thing as being the good guys, you’re just another bunch of stupid pricks, who need to be put in their place.”

It snaps something inside of Carl, because suddenly he’s giving you a harsh shove, where you stumble a few feet backwards. You mirror his childish temper, throwing your body at him with equal force, where the two of you awkwardly wrestle in the middle of the street.

You attempt to gain leverage, steeling your feet into the ground, bending your knees. Then, out of nowhere, you’re raising your arm with the bat, ready to try and dislocate his shoulder, or something. Anything. Just to show that you aren’t weak.

But before you can swing, there’s resistance, and you snap out of this little squabble to realise that somebody else is holding your bat.

“The hell are you doin’, girl?”

Negan swiftly lifts the bat from your grip, holding it at an arms length. You let go of Carl, whipping around to glare at the older man.

“He’s being a total jagoff!” You shout, twisting to see a similar look of discontent on Carl’s face, like he’s itching to leap back into your little fight.

It’s no use, because then Negan is holding your shoulder, giving you a gentle push in the opposite direction, “Truck, now. We’re making our departure.”

And you listen, despite everything telling you to continue. To prove yourself, maintain that power.

To make matters worse, Carl has taken this experience as some sort of mental victory, yelling out from the footpath, “Daddy’s girl!”

You can only turn, angrily giving him the finger as you storm off towards the gates, but it acts as fuel to the fire. Getting sick of that stupid expression, you turn back away, footsteps quickening in an attempt to seperate yourself from the ever so slightly humiliating experience.

Next time you’ll get him.

#twd x reader #the walking dead x reader #negan smith #carl grimes #carl grimes x reader #carl grimes x you #twd x you #negan smith x reader

[lost-in-lamentation]

a/n: oh, i love this man, i really do.

content: a little heart to heart with mammon about that song he wrote for you.

warnings: cuddling session? mammon is.. implied sad at the end. but he's okay as long as he's got you (´ω｀)

fluff. comfort. mammon x gen!reader (you/your).

also, i am entirely incapable of making up song lyrics, so....

song lyrics are from oceans between us, by the icarus account.

"so, how'd you come up with those lyrics?"

"whaddya mean?" mammon raised an eyebrow at you from the other side of the couch, not bothering to look up from his d.d.d. "ya mean the for the marine festival?"

you hummed in response. "yeah. lucifer told me you handed in your revised version the day after you got your voice back."

grimacing, mammon finally placed his d.d.d. down next to him. "lucifer TOLD ya that?!" you nearly laughed at the way his ears turned red, but quickly bit your tongue. "damn, he really does tell you everything," the second born muttered.

"well, duh." smiling, you opened your arms and waved him over to you. his gaze flickered from his spot on the couch to you as he weighed his options, but the demon was weak for anything that involved you. with a resigned sigh, mammon crawled over to your side of the couch, practically crashing into your torso. you could feel the way his breath puffed against your neck as he settled himself on top of you. "comfy?"

mammon curled his arms around your back. "real comfy," he murmured, moving to rest his head above your heart.

you grinned at his response, your smile widening when he rumbled happily at your hand running through his hair. "and my other question?"

his eyes snapped open. "... what question?" the white haired demon asked under his breath. you felt his heartbeat pick up the pace the more he thought about it.

"don't be so stubborn," you purred. "how'd you come up with the lyrics for your song? and more specifically, that one line?"

mammon scoffed promptly, his nose scrunching up as he mulled it over. "ya can't just say 'that line', MC. i don't even know which one you're referring to."

you dropped your hand from his head to rub circles into his lower back. "you know, the one that goes.. 'so tell me you love me, and tell me again. or we'll fall forever, or wait 'til the end.' that part."

"you memorized that?!" against your chest, you felt mammon's heart almost beating out of his ribcage. what surprised you further was the way his arms tightened around you, and you couldn't tell if it was from embarrassment or affection. from the way he hid his face in your neck, you assumed it the former.

softly, you pressed your lips onto the crown of his head. "of course i did. it was so sweet," you whispered into his hair. mammon shuddered at the feeling of your fingers dancing up and down his spine.

"... 's nothin special, ya know." the demon tucked his head into your neck, seeking your warmth.

"but it's special to me, mammon." you stopped teasing his back and instead tried to lift his face so you could meet his gaze. you saw sapphires when he finally obliged. "i just wanted to ask... did you really mean it?"

silence blanketed the room, the only sounds that could be heard were your entwined breathing and the way mammon fidgeted with the back of your shirt. after a while, mammon finally exhaled, grip loosening as he pushed himself up. you pouted internally at the loss of his weight on top of you, but it was short lived. mammon had flipped onto his back and took you down with him so that it was your head on his chest this time.

"how could i not mean it?" his arms squeezed you impossibly closer to himself, and his legs tangled with yours in seconds. "i'd fall for as long as i have to... if it means i get to have you in the end."

for once, mammon's voice had no edge to it; he spoke so rarely without it, that you couldn't mask the surprise that you felt. you opened your mouth, ready to say something about it, but the words died in your throat when you realized how cloudy his gaze had become. mammon's lips pressed into a thin line as he gritted his teeth. it was your surefire sign that he was trying to hold his composure together.

you brought your hand away from his shoulder and cradled his face, thumb brushing over his cheek as though it were catching tears. "i tell you i love you, i'll tell you again," you confessed. mammon inhaled sharply, a sob threatening to break from his throat. "you're mine forever, and i..." you paused again, remembering the way mammon had looked at you during his performance during the festival. he stared at you now, the same love in his eyes, now accompanied by golden tears. slowly, you lifted yourself up so that you could touch your cheek to his temple.

"and i'm yours 'til the end."

a/n: this song just felt so fitting for him, i had to do it. mammon got a special little piece of my heart fr!!

#obey me #obey me swd #obey me nightbringer #obey me shall we date #obey me mammon #mammon x you #mammon x reader #obey me fluff #aris writes 🐈‍⬛

[readychilledwine]

Azriel Week Day 3 Prompt - The Knife in the Dark - The Fall of Icarus

Summary - Waking up alone in a dark cell was not part of your mission plans, only you're not alone.

Warnings - torture, mentions of blood, Azriel being scary

A/n - I've never wrote a torture scene before 👀👀👀👀 I don't know if I'll ever write one again. Not 100% proud of this @azrielappreciationweek piece, but not hating it either.

Chains. You had always hated chains. You tugged at the ones on your wrists again, flinching as they cut into the soft skin of your wrist and gave in. 

"You're awake. Good, I was getting bored," you glared towards the darkness that voice came from, arms aching. Your father had warned you to enter the Night Court carefully, and you had. Which made this reality much harder to accept.

Blue siphons began to shine in the darkness in front of you, a large male looking as if he was death himself coming towards you. "Who are you and where did you come from?"

"Get Rhysand. He will know who I am and why I am here." That you realized was the wrong answer. A sharp blade pressed against the hollow point of your throat, causing you to whimper softly as you felt it nick the soft skin there. 

He smirked, "You are in no position to be making demands, little one." You steeled yourself, having sworn to your parents to speak to Rhysand and Rhysand only after he answered a riddle correctly. "Who are you and why are you here?"

You took a deep breath, the bargain tattoo burning as you contemplated breaking it. You made your choice, remembering who you were and your position in your home, and raised your head defiantly. "I will speak to Rhysand and no one else, dog, per my orders."

Azriel put a hand above your shoulder, making you silently grateful you had hidden your wings. "Where did you come from? I will send them a part of you so they know you failed. At least you'll die a loyal fool, though." At speed your mind hardly registered, he cut you.

First the inner part of your left bicep, then diagonally across your stomach, then across the tops of both thighs. You out your head against the stonewall, breathing deeply through the pain. "Kill me and you will find Pryithian lost for help in your upcoming war."

Azriel paused then. "And how would that be, little one." That blade dug back into your throat, and you sent a prayer to the Mother. This is how you'd die. You would die after being sent to Rhysand to ask why an illyrian male had been flying over Cretea and to offer assistance. 

You whispered softly. "I can't tell you." Death would come your way before the dishonor of breaking a bargain with your father, possibly endangering your fae. "I have orders."

Azriel slide that blade down the front of your shirt. "You'll die for your orders instead of just telling me the answers to my questions?"

You nodded. "I'll die for the safety of my home." Azriel didn't want to tell you how he understood. He didn't want to comfort you before doing what he was about to do. He sunk and twisted that blade into your left thigh, barely avoiding that crucial artery before pulling the blade out and putting it into your right hand, making you scream out and tears begin to fall. 

You don't know how long it went on for. Minutes, hours, days. He'd ask you the same three questions, anger setting in more and more for him as you denied him each time. You were beyond grateful were darkness found you again. Slipping into unconsciousness and falling limo against that stonewall.

Azriel lead Rhysand and Cassian to the room, opening it for him. He watched as Rhysand's face fell, his eyes going wide before he ran, ripping the heavy key ring from Azriel and unlocking the female prisoner. 

He went to the ground holding her, rocking her gently while he whispered to her it would be okay. "GO GET A FUCKING HEALER!" It wasn't Rhysand who yelled that at him, but his high lord commanding it. Cassian went instantly while Azriel stood paralyzed. 

"Sssssssshhhh," Azriel watched as Rhysand brushed a hair behind your ear. "You're okay little angel. It's going to be okay."

Azriel heard you speak weakly, "Icarus-"

Rhys interrupted voice broken, "Laughted as he fell and screamed to the winds. There's bitter triumph in failure, joy in the crash, and excitement in falling instead of soaring." The bargain and protect ward faded off of you, revealing those soft feathered wings. "I have you, y/n, you will be fine."

Azriel sat by your side on Rhysand's bitter angry orders. He didn't know how he didn't see it, those familiar doe eyes, that hair, your nose. Rhys was in the room, deep into a letter and scratching the parchment with rushed strokes. 

Parchment he was using to inform Maryam and Drakon of their youngest daughter's torture at Azriel's hands. Your little hand twitched in his and he moved instantly getting water ready for you as you shot awake, body fully healed from Madja, Rhysand, and Lucien's efforts. 

Rhys stiffened instantly, hearing the change in your breathing and set his pen down to come to your other side. "I'm glad you're awake." He offered gently. "Do you want anything?" 

You shook your head, moving closer to him and away from Azriel. It shouldn't have hurt him the way it did. But it had. It cut him deeply that his friend's daughter was afraid of him now. "I want to go home." 

Rhys nodded at the answer. "Why are you here, darling?"

"There was an Illyrian male flying over the ruins of Cretea. Why?"

Azriel shut his eyes. You had been sent as a contact point. He tortured not just his friend's daughter, but a potential allies' contact point. Rhysand inclined his head to Azriel. "I sent him to look for all of you and ask for help with the war we are about to face against Hybern. We assumed you all ran with Jurian looking for your mother." Rhysand offered you the water Azriel was holding. "Do you know if they will stand with us?" 

You shook your head in uncertainty. "I do not make those calls. My father and brothers do. I could have said yes before, but now, I-" You shook your head. "I do not know what dad will say when he hears of this."

Rhys nodded, understanding completely. "He would have never hurt you had he known. We understand why you were so heavily glamored. I know it is a lot to ask right now, but hopefully someday you'll understand why he did what he did."

Summer was beautiful, even if you were currently there being healed after one of Hyberns generals had singled you out. Madja was mending one of your wings, her wrinkled hands moving through the feathers and healing the bones slowly. 

Rhysand had pulled your father out moments ago, mentioning he had a prisoner that he needed your father to decide the fate of. 

You leaned further into Morrigan, appreciating the way she was comforting you by scratching your scalp with her long nails. She froze suddenly, face growing pale as she looked towards the entrance of the tent. Madja gasped loudly, leaving your back go look over who ever had just entered. 

Heavy footsteps made their way towards you, and you looked to see them belonging to a heavily siphoned male, blood soaking his armor and leather wings. You stared at Azriel's face, a brow raised, "Yes?"

"Your father sent me to inform you he is dead." You nodded, looking into those hazel eyes, "and that my debt is paid." You nodded again as Mor silently excused herself and Azriel took her place. 

"How'd you do it?"

Azriel chuckled. "Skinned him alive. One strip for every feather he ripped out and broken bone he gave you."

#acotar #acotar x reader #azriel acotar #azriel #azriel x reader #azriel shadowsinger #azrielweek2023 #azrielappreciationweek2023 #azriel x yn #azriel x you #azriel x y/n