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1800jjbarnes · 5 months

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◇ 𝐃𝐚𝐲 𝟐𝟑 : 𝐁𝐨𝐝𝐲 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩 - 𝐁𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐲 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐬 ◇

Godess Amongst Commoner

【Synopsis】 : Overhearing for so-called friends make fun of your "failures" in life made your loving mobboss boyfriend very unhappy. No one makes his Doll cry.

『W.C』 : 1.67k

-> Genre: Mafia Au. Suggestive. Sweet Love.

Paring: MobBoss!Bucky x Chubby!Reader

[Warnings] : Shitty Friends. Mention about putting on weight (which is normal). Mention of a standard. Dark thoughts. Reader hates herself. (I love you all so much.) James wants to lowkey kill your friends. Pet names. Swearing. Crying. Kisses. Hickeys. Little bit of man handling. Fingering.

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It was supposed to be a calm day hanging out with your friends but it got turned on its head when you got the the place you were going to meet them and you overheard them talking about your ‘failure’ in life. God, it hurt hearing them explain it like that. It wasn’t like it was your fault that your life came to a crashing stop. It’s not like you asked to get a back injury and gain some weight over the healing time.

It crushed you, trying so hard to lose the weight was no easy task. It was like it stuck to you. You became so insecure about it, and you thought your so-called friends were supportive and loved you no matter what, but it turns out they now looked at you like an outsider. All because you were a few sizes bigger than them.

You felt the restaurant, not even taking the corner to where they were sat. Knowing that if you saw you, they would stop you. They would have most likely say ‘oh why are you leaving babe, don’t go’ but in reality, you now know, it was just pity. That’s how they looked at you. Like a puppy, they had no choice but to look after.

You spent the next hour walking home instead of calling for a ride, punishing yourself in a way. When you saw the gate to your front lawn, you sighed, feeling relief. It wasn’t that the walking was hard or anything. But you wanted nothing more than to curl up in a ball on your soft bed. What you didn’t expect was for a motorbike parked discreetly in your driveway. ‘wonder who that could be’ you thought sarcastically.

Opening the door to your house, you notice the front door was unlocked, along with a pair of nice dress shoes sitting on the shoe rack. You took your own shoes off, hissing at the pain of walking for so long on small platforms. “James?”

You called, voice echoing in the silent home. He didn’t normally show up unannounced let alone on his bike, given he worried so much about your safety. But when you entered the lounge room and spotted him lying on your soft sofa with one of your plushies tight in his grasp that you keep nearby so you could cuddle it while sitting on the couch alone. You had to smile at him. For a roughed-up mob boss, he sure looks like such an innocent baby right now.

“You better be laughing at yourself, doll.” His deep grumble caught your laughter in your throat. He didn’t even open his eyes, just twitching slightly. He knew it was you the moment he heard the pitter-patter of your socked feet padding around the small home. He was, after all, in a line of work where he needed to be vigilant. “Why are you home anyway?”

You were hoping he wasn’t going to ask you that question ‘cause he knew you were going out with your friends―that he frankly didn’t like―today. Sighing, you took a set on the lone loveseat against the other wall. You knew you would have to tell him cause if you didn’t he would just come up with his own answer. “I left ‘cause I overheard….uh….” Fuck you didn’t even want to talk about what went down in fear that if you saw it aloud it would be real.

He noticed your shift in demeanour instantly, sitting up he shuffled along the couch until he was leaning against the arm. The plushie still nestled in his lap as his harsh grip squeezed its poor head. “What did they say?”

“Nothing important… it was um…” You began to panic, maybe lying would have been the better option now. Bucky goes up from the couch, moving to sit next to you, pulling your legs up to rest them over his lap. You felt a sudden feeling of disgust as he lifted your figure. How could someone like Bucky be in love with someone like you? He was toned, rugged. A handsome bachelor that could have women falling at his feet. But yet here he was. Staring at you with devotion and full of love. You were the only one in his heart… why?

“I swear if you don’t tell me right now.” He sounded threatening, but in truth, you know he wouldn’t do anything to hurt you or others, without knowing you were completely okay with it. You sucked in a sharp breath, feeling a tear fall down your hot cheek. You didn’t even know when you started crying, but it was like it was out of your control. You were useless, worthless, a failure, and everyone’s eyes. So why not he as well? Why didn’t he not leave for someone else when he clearly deserved better?

He rushed to you without a second thought, holding you close as he hushed you softly. His hand raked through your hair, soothing you while his other hand found your thigh making shapes in your plump flesh. You were so perfect to him, and seeing you cry broke his heart, and when you finally were able to tell him exactly what your so-called friends had said, he lost it. Sitting up, he cupped your face slowly, wiping your tears away as he spoke tenderly. “Honey, you are perfect no matter what anyone says. Including me. Your own opinion about yourself is all that truly matters. You are such a powerful woman, and I wouldn’t be here today if it was not for you.”

You hiccuped, sobbing quietly as he rambled about how much he was devoted to you. His lips found the corner of your wobbling mouth. His hand that once cupped your face now dared to hold the back of your neck while the other perched itself on your hips. He knelt between your legs, locking his lips while mumbling ‘I love you’ over and over through shaken kisses. He needed you to understand how beautiful you are in his eyes. His queen. Without another word, he pressed you gently on the couch, man-handling you until your boy was lying flat on the soft cushioning.

His lips danced down your jaw and neck. “My pretty angel. Perfect like honey. My everything.” His hands played with the buttons of your jeans, popping them open before drawing a hand down your panties. You tried to stop him, feeling you were too ugly for him to touch you. But he protested, smacking your thigh with his free hand. “I’m going to touch you. Pleasure you like the queen you are, and you are going to lay here and scream my name like a good girl.”

You whimpered, still crying, but you nodded, whispering a quick “Yes..Sorry.” but he stopped your whines with his fingers gripping your chin so you’d gaze right into his intense stare.

“Don’t you ever apologize for something you never did. You aren’t the reason for these tears.” He wiped one away with his thumb. “The only time you cry is when I’m pleasuring you so good. You got that, Honey?”

“Yes, Sir…”

“Repeat.” He growled slipping his fingers inside your soaked cunt.

“YES Sir…Fuck…” You moaned, bucking your hips up, spreading your legs without thinking. He hummed in approval, fucking you slowly with his fingers. His lips attached onto your neck, sucking a few harsh marks making sure to put them in places where he’d know people would look. Where your ‘friends’ would see. You see, your lover was an honest man. A fair man. And he had already made plans in his mind of what exactly to do with these so-called friends of yours and once he was down worshipping you as you deserved he was going to have fun…talking… with those disgusting women.

He pulled up your top, tugging down your bra so your breasts would pop out. He wasted no time in littering your gorgeous tits with kisses, licks, and bites. “Mine. You got that darling. You’re all mine. My good girl.” His fingers got faster placing his thumb on your clit making you scream out his name over and over. His chuckle vibrated on your nipples making you shiver in pleasure. His praises booted an ego you thought was on the ground and his lips helped wash away any negativity you mind portrayed towards your lover. “you gonna cum baby? Make a mess on my fingers?”

“Yes, Bucky. Pleaasee.” Your hands flew to his hair, tugging sharply making him groan from the painful pleasure. He rubbed sharp circles on your clit helping you tip over the edge squirting all over his hands your jeans.

“Such a good girl.” You tried to sit up to inspect the damage but Bucky placed a firm hand on your shoulder, effectively pushing you back down onto the couch. “I’m going to strip you naked okay and then you are going to go have a bath while I take a call. And then I’ll join you. How does that sound?”

You know all too well that bath means he wants to fuck you in the tub. One of his favourite places to fuck you since he was surrounded by your scent and sweet candles. But the phone call scared you. Bucky is a dangerous man and a cruel and mean one. One work is going well and he wants updates or… he wants someone dead. And from what you told him prior you know he’s planning the second option. Cause in the end, Buckg was willing to kill for you. Protecting you, if that means wiping an entire continent out. You were his everything and he plans to show you that every day at every hour and every minute.

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quimichi · 6 months

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do you still do twisted wonderland requests? if so can i request self aware dorm leaders being called "good boy"??

『 ↳✧･ﾟ CALLING THE DORM LEADERS YOUR GOOD BOY ;

Dorm Leaders x Creator!Reader

Riddle - Off with your head!

"Do you enjoy your tea?"

"Mm. The tea is most delicious, Yuu. " Riddle speaks with the utmost sincerity, his words sweet and grateful. Even though his tea cup has long been empty since he finished it, he holds it in his hand, his gaze fixed on it lovingly. He looks up at you, his head still bowed in worship, adoration. He smiles, his eyes warm and bright, all of his adoration and fondness directed towards you.

"Im glad my good boy likes his tea" you smile warmly at him before sipping at your own tea again. Riddle's smile widens, and he bows his head further.

Your good boy.

He looks up at you, his worship and fondness directed towards you, and he speaks, his voice soft and low.

"Thank you, Yuu. I adore you, you know?"

"I adore you, Riddle" his face flushes as he sits before you. He bows his head and lowers his gaze like he always does at your touch, but, with his skin now slightly red, he smiles softly to himself.

He shifts slightly. This feels so safe here.

"As long as you adore me, Your Grace… I am complete." At least one person treats him right in his life, unlike HIS MOTHER.

Leona - The king, huh…?

"Enjyoing your nap?" "Huh?" Leona glances around. He was indeed enjoying a peaceful nap before the sudden voice. Leona is often sleeping when you see him, but that is partly because he spends most of his time in your room. He sleeps there more than anywhere else.

He stretches, his limbs feeling heavy as he wakes up. He yawns, and nods his head as he responds. "Oh, yes. I was." "Did my good boy at least sleep well?"

"Yes," he says immediately, a flush spreading over his cheeks. He hates how much emotional control you had gained over him in the past month's. And damn you for calling him that…"I did."

He is embarrassed to admit that his night had been pleasant and pleasant dreams had come to visit him while he slept. His dreams are often full of your voice, your face, and sometimes even your touch.

These thoughts send his heart into overdrive in an instant. Fuck you for making him falling for you. You damn herbivore.

He is utterly enraptured by you. There's a strange glint in his eyes, an intensity that burns deep into his soul. Need, greed, want.

"Hm," he nods slowly, the only word he can manage before turning around in your bed and going back to sleep.

Azul - How poor and unfortunate you are

Azul's eyes flicker with uncertainty, but he would never hesitate to obey your instructions. Come closer to you…its simple, yet so hard. "Yes," he whispers, and he rises to come to you. His feet are swift and silent as he crosses the space separating you, his eyes ever vigilant for your every command.

"Sit with me" you said gentle. Despite whatever doubts Azul may have had moments before, they are quickly forgotten as soon as you command him to sit. Without another word, he lowers himself to sit beside you in obedience. His lips curve into a small smile as he gazes at you, happy to be near you.

Luckily Jade and Floyd aren't around, if they would, he already would've been teased into the ground.

"Youre my good boy aren't you Azul~?" with your hand on his cheek, your hot breath on his ear, who is he to say disagree. Once again, Azul flinches at your approval, but he can't disagree. "Of course, Yuu" he answers in a soft voice.

He smiles at you, and you can almost swear he's a child in his demeanor. He is utterly and completely devoted to you. Your approval is like the sun in the sky to him.

"I'm your good boy."

Kalim - Sing, dance!

"You seem tired" your soft voice lurrs him to you, he wants nothing more to lay in your arms now. "Yes," Kalim mumbles before trailing off. He blinks as if the idea hadn't occurred to him before. That party maybe was…a little to much

Yet, the moment the thought comes to him, it is the only feeling that consumes him; he is consumed with the weariness of his day.

Kalim's eyelids close, as if he has only now realized that he should have been sleeping this whole time, and he leans forward to rest his head on your lap.

"I… wish to sleep," he whispers, "with you…"

"My good boy can finally sleep now" At your command, kalims's eyes flutter closed, and he allows himself to settle into a much-needed sleep.

The only sound he emits from that point onward is a low, contented hum as he falls into the deep, peaceful slumber that you have granted him. After all his favorite pillows will always be your thighs. You wouldnt mind sitting there all night just for him to rest comfortably, although Jamil would lecture you both the next morning.

But Kalim couldn't care less, as he falls asleep with the lovliest words ever said to him echoing in his mind, good boy

Vil - Every rose has its thorn. But isn't that part of their charm?

"Rough day?" Of course he had a rough day, once again Neige seems to be better fkmor everyine else again. He didn't get the model job he so long waited for "Yes," Vil replies, gracefully dropping in front of his mirror. There is a tension to his tone, as if there is something he wants to say but cannot bring himself to admit. He looks up at you, his gaze sharp and piercing as if trying to gauge some kind of mood.

He gently removes his make up before he speaks again "I cannot… I mean…"

"I," Vil tries again. He bites his lip, and his gaze flicks back to his thighs. His fists are clenched, and he fights back the urge to punch something, anything, to let out the frustration.

His voice is barely above a whisper, but you can hear him. If only he could articulate what needs to be said. If only he did not choke on his words, as if something is caught in his throat.

"How long," he rasps, "until I'm worthy enough for everyone?"

You careful went over to him and hug his back while looking into his eyes trough the morror, "My good boy, youre more than enough for me.." Vil sighs, the sound of release escaping his lips. He can feel his chest loosen along with the tension that he'd been holding onto, and the anxiety that had been building up seems to melt away with the hug.

Nobody in this world is as perfect as you.

Idia - Dun-da-da-da-dun! Level up!

"Are you busy right now?" Idias eyes flick up from the computer screen, startled as he hears your voice. He doesn't dare to speak unless he is spoken to, he feels like if he'd start the conversation instead odf you it'll turn out horrible.

His expression is one filled with worry; worried that you find him inadequate, worried that he'll fail you. The weight of all his worries is starting to become too much for him to handle, and it shows on his face. "I uhm…was just fighting the last boss on this quest"

"Would you mind if i watch?" Idia looks up at you, eyes wide.

He can barely breathe, such is his joy at the possibility of spending time with you. He nods, a soft smile breaking out on his face. He seems so different than the introverted person everyone knows him — he's softer, happier, and more at ease now that he's with you. "Whoa, my good boy is so goof at this" you mumbled to yourself, but you also made sure he heard you. He deserves the praise after all

Idia's eyes fill with shook, but they spark with joy when you praise him. His smile only broadens, to outstanders it may look, manic.

The way you're soft voice was calling him that had his heart pounding for you for eternity.

Malleus - You aren't afraid of me. But I'm starting to become afraid…of losing you.

"Did you enjoy this walk?" "M-Yes, indeed…" Malleus mumbles, his body nearly melting at your touch of your hands touching. The soft sound of his voice is almost enough to make you forget that you've already reached Ramshackle. For a moment, he seems almost… bashful. When he speaks, he glances down at you with soft, adoring eyes.

It takes you a moment to realize that his cheeks are still flushed pink- it's rare to see such a reaction from Malleus. In fact, you've never seen him look quite so… flustered.

"Im glad my good boy enjoyed himself"

"You… you think I'm your good boy?" Malleus murmurs softly, staring down at you from beneath his eyelashes. His voice is almost a purr in its softness. "You want… you want me to stay with you forever?"

Malleus is trembling in your hold, but it has nothing to do with his anger or anything, its excitement. He cannot muster the energy or strength to do anything but stare down at you, breath hitching. Your question has turned his thoughts to mush. His mind is elsewhere entirely-- but with you nearby, he isn't opposed to staying as close as he can.

"Marry me…" he breathes.

"Wha-"

#twisted wonderland x reader #self aware twst #Self aware twisted wonderland #riddle x reader #leona x reader #malleus x yuu #vil x reader #azul x jamil #kalim x reader #idia x reader

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lovelyyandereaddictionpoint · 3 months

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Yanderes in a Zombie Apocalypse...The Kind Survivor

Imagine the zombie apocalypse starts and suddenly the entire world itself is turned upside down. Those who survive are the ones who can adapt quickly or be lucky enough to be dragged by the former. You re some of the few that adapt turning everyday items into tools and weapons to guarantee your survival. While you could go at it alone you don’t. Shaking your coworker or classmate out of their horror-stricken state and saving them from being eaten.

“Hey you better move it or you’ll end up just like them.”

Maybe you know you’ll be lonely or that you can’t leave someone behind or maybe it's because it's them. Always so forthcoming and so kind to you before the world turned into this. Maybe you consider this payback for their hospitality, either way, you’re leading them away from the danger to regroup somewhere safe.

“T-thank you (Y/n).”

“It's fine, Wendall. Just keep moving we can’t rest here.”

“Right!”

He’s the Kind Survivor, the one who holds onto his sweet, trusting persona. Leaving you to be the untrusting hardened protector. Your roles become clear as you unwillingly are added to a group of fellow survivors. Of course, it’s him who proposes staying with the team still silently accepting your unspoken alliance. Even when the group discards your opinion for their own plan, he advocates for them, soothing your anger.

“I don’t trust them Wendy!”

“(Y/n) we can’t do this alone! We have to trust in them!”

“Until we can’t. What do you plan to do then?!”

“T-then we can leave. Okay (Y/n)...I’ll start thinking about us….about you more okay?”

“Thanks… I’ll be more open-minded.”

For a while, this will work, with your Kind Survivor becoming an important voice in the group while you gain their respect and reverie. Wendall couldn’t be happier, falling into a sense of normalcy as he watches you grow emotionally. For a while, this feels right.

But this doesn’t last.

The first betrayal ruins him opens his eyes. One selfish member's actions put everyone at risk but who suffers the most is you. Led out on a fool’s errand only to be swarmed and backed into a corner. Nothing but your wits and survival instincts to let you lead the remaining scouts with you. You’re holed up in a roof for days, forced to stay quiet, stave your hunger, and remain vigilant. As you hoped, Wendall and the surviving group arrive with food and medicine as everyone reunites.

“(Y/n)! (Y/n)!”

“Hey, Wendy.”

“Oh, my–(Y/n) you can’t believe how happy I am to see you!”

“...I trusted you’d come…and you did.”

No one’s more happy to be reunited than your Kind Survivor who doesn’t dare relay the frustrating tale of that one’s betrayal. Only holding you close and rubbing his face against your head as he burns your scent into his memory all over again. It's another member who tells you while Wendall lasor focuses on checking you for any and all injuries. You don’t seem all that perturbed–your inclination to trust the others was right—all was well. Sure there was betrayal but you didn’t like that one member much at all so it wasn’t much of a deal to you. The same cannot be said for your Kind Survivor.

“I’m okay Wendy. I’m fine.”

“You haven’t eaten in days I wouldn’t call that fine.”

“Wendy I–”

“Hush. Eat before anything…please.”

He’s still so sweet. Always so kind. But something's…amiss. The other members feel he’s not the same. Those on midnight watch find his eyes staring at your resting form, not even moving away when they joke with him. When he does turn to look at them, there’s something fiery, something dark lingering behind those eyes before he hides them with his typical amicable smile. They begin to fear him.

“Ah, Wendall-san?”

“What is it? Jjitjg?”

“Uh, nothing never mind.”

The members have a right to. Wendall is dealing with an anger he’s hardly ever experienced. All his life had been a constant string of highs—working his dream job, meeting you, getting to hang out with you. But then the world turned mad which didn’t initially scare him as much as it should. Somehow being saved and haphazardly comforted by you it still wasn’t so bad. He thought the same when you both joined the group. But when that one member betrayed the whole team it shattered him. How could they?! Leaving his (Y/n) out there! When they so courageously followed the so-called leader on this goose chase!? What was his baby doing now while they simply huddled in fear of that one?! How were you feeling being so far for so long?!

He? He was dying.

Would you be disgusted that your Kind Survivor was truly contemplating letting all the others die while he went to search for you? Disgusted in knowing that it was he who was behind that one’s sudden psychosis? He didn’t care!

But when he saw your smiling face he was relieved but still fuming. This..band of wretches was why you were bedded for a week. These worthless meat sacks were using up the supplies meant to take care of you. These fleas were eating all the food that should have rightfully belonged to you.

It was a rising resentment. Pushed down and suffocated every time so that he could steer this group right and properly encourage your latest streak of compassion. It made you so much more integral to the group, as a protector and a leader.

It made his skin crawl. He was so proud of you.

It was another member’s incompetence that puts the nail in the coffin–the entire group’s coffins. Since the death of your old leader the group was out of sync; squabbling and running around like chickens with their heads cut off. Of course, the most incompetent one volunteered for the role; forcefully pressuring the others to follow their lead. It led to chaos. The chaos that relied on you to save everyone again. Again, forcing you to risk your life.

“This–this–this is the second time–”

“That I’ve survived the impossible? Don’t know, guess I’m just the best human shield there is.”

“No! This is the second time you’ve almost died because of them! I can’t–I can’t!”

He snaps.

You can calm your Kind Survivor all you like but the damage has been done. He’ll bow and apologize to everyone who’s witnessed it. But he’s not sorry. He’s determined. At a moment's notice, he fights to free you from them even if you resist. Physically you might be able to overpower him but he shouldn’t be underestimated. After all your Kind Survivor has learned so much. So many ways to subdue you, so many ways to trick the group; running off with you will be easy. With so much time to plan he’ll get his plan off without a hitch.

By the time he’s done, you’ll both be miles away from the ruins that were this ragtag team.

“I’m sorry (Y/n)...I thought we’d be safe with others. Now I know we’re better off on our own; where only we can trust each other.”

Your Kind Survivor has grown a lot and he’s learned not everyone’s worth both of your compassion. In fact, he’s made the executive decision to actively keep it and you all to himself.

By any means necessary.

#yandere x reader #yandere x you #lovelyyandereaddictionpoint #yanderexrea #yandere #yanderes #yandere zombie apocalypse #yandere survivor oc #yandere original character #yandere oc x you #yandere oc #male yandere x reader #yandere oc x reader #yandere survivor x reader #yandere survivor #yandere male oc

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mooshywrites · 1 month

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hi there~! if its not too much trouble, can I request a halsin x reader fic where reader/tav falls in battle fails a saving throw and requires a revivify? either pre-established relationship in Act 2 or established in act 3 would be okay~ i just love comforting and protective Halsin 🥺

Revivify

Reader x Halsin

Masterlist

Art commissions

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

A/N - such a wonderful prompt, I almost cried at the request ;~;

Warnings - Minor spoilers, combat, blood, death and reviving, injury, angst

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

“I almost lost you.”

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

Sun filtered through leaves casting a dappled blanket over the soft grass under your feet. you took in a deep breath, inhaling the soft scent of flowers and damp soil. There wasn’t many moments on this journey that you could take this kind of pause. To remember the tranquility the world could offer.

It had been a few days since you and your party had reached Lower Baldur’s Gate. A few very long days. Between trying to find the origin behind the smattering of murders, gathering allies in your fight against the Elder Brain, and typical strange happenings that followed your companions like no other, you hadn’t had time to breathe let alone relax.

Halsin gave you a knowing smile as he stood along side you in the garden, his shoulders looking much more relaxed than they had been in weeks.

“Nature seems to always find a way to remind you of her beauty,” he murmured.

You looked around the garden once more, taking in the sereneness. In the distance, a gentle breeze rustled the leaves of the seemingly ancient trees, carrying with it the faint sound of conversation. You turned to see couples walking through the pathways, just as at peace with the world as you were.

“We can’t let ourself be lulled into complacency,” you sighed, your jaw becoming tense with focus yet again. “We’re up against some nasty people. We must be vigilant at all times.”

“Who would try to kill us in a city garden of all places, my heart?” Halsin asked, giving you pitying stare.

You avoided his gaze. As much as you longed for moments of peace like this, moments you could share with him, you knew the ever looming threat couldn’t be ignored.

“Even if,” Halsin continued. “We could handle ourselves in any-“

His words were cut off by a scream across the clearing, blood curdling and insistent. Your attention snapped to the source, your heartbeat quickening instantly. There stood a group of hooded figures, standing over a now silent body.

You tensed yourself, ready for attacks as more cloaked figures began to appear around you. You shot Halsin a look, checking around you to see if your other party members were ready for what looked like to be quite the difficult fight.

Without a moment of hesitation, you drew your weapon and took a defensive stance. Halsin was quick to follow, his expression determined. The air crackled with tension as the hooded figures stalked around you silently, their movements precise and almost synchronized.

As the first attacker lunged toward you with a gleaming dagger, you parried the blow expertly, feeling the impact reverberate up your arm. The fight had begun in earnest now, with spells flying and steel clashing against steel. You could hear your companions engaging in combat around you, their grunts and battle cries mixing with the chaotic symphony of violence unfolding in the garden.

Adrenaline surged through your veins as you focused on each opponent, their faces shadowed by the cloak. The shroud did nothing to hide the pure and pointed murderous malice in their eyes. Halsin fought beside you, wild-shaping as soon as the fight began. Even in the form of a large bear, his movements were calculated, precise.

One by one, the hooded figures fell before your party, their attacks repelled and countered with lethal force. You had taken a few blows, ones you knew would leave you quite sore when this was all over. Your muscles were beginning to burn with exertion, your voice raw as you threw your entire body weight behind your attacks.

Just as you thought victory was in reach, a movement in the corner of your eye caught your attention. Halsin had been hit hard enough to pull him back into his elvish form, the Druid panting as he fought two of the cultists. Nervousness rose through your chest quickly, worried he wouldn’t be able to handle the both of them.

Thankfully, he made quick work of one, turning to look to you amidst the chaos. His mouth moved in words you couldn’t hear, his expression suddenly panicked. Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. The only cultist left was the one in front of him. Then why was he looking at you as if he had seen a ghost? It took a moment to realize he wasn’t looking at you. He was looking behind you.

It took you a moment too long.

Blood pumped loudly in your ear as you began to turn, time seeming to slow when the shrouded figure came into your view. You brought up your weapon, your arms heavy as if they were pushing through water.

It was too late.

You felt something impact your side, the cultist smiling devilishly at you. You stumbled back, your brain fogging over slightly. You felt no pain, only a growing chill just below your ribs. You looked down to see the dagger pierced through your armor, blood dripping off of its handle.

Your blood.

Your vision began to blur, darkness creeping into the edge of your vision. Numbly, you clutched at the dagger, trying to contain the blood you were losing.

Your heart pounded as you tried to focus your eyes in front of you, looking around in a haze. You could hear Halsin’s voice, though it sounded miles in the distance. You could tell he was still fighting off the remaining enemy, the clashing of metal and grunts making their way through your disoriented state.

The world spun around you, and you fell raggedly to your knees, your grip on the dagger slipping. The wound in your side felt as if it were swallowing you whole, the ice cold chill spreading as you lost more blood.

You looked around, desperate for a way to survive, to continue fighting. But the air around you seemed thick with the scent of death, your healing potions long since depleted. You could feel your breath growing shallow, your throat tightening with every painful gasp.

Most of all, you felt tired. So incredibly tired. The ground beckoned to you like the world’s most comfortable goosedown bed, begging you to give in to sleep.

As your vision darkened completely, the last thing you heard was Halsin screaming your name.

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

Everything was dim for what seemed like an eternity, a comfortable silence enveloping you. It felt as if you were asleep, the deepest sleep you had ever had. Your wound no longer stung, the air no longer drenched with the smell of blood.

Absentmindedly, you wondered if you were supposed to be sad in this moment. It was hard to feel any kind of grief in a place so comforting. So quiet. You couldn’t even remember what could have made you sad in the first place.

A light flickered in the corner of the emptiness, rousing you from your contemplation. You stared at it, watching it glow brighter and more insistent. You brought your hand up, shielding your eyes from the blinding radiance.

Suddenly it felt as if you were falling, hurtling through the empty darkness. The light seemed to stretch endlessly towards you, a beacon in an endless abyss. As you plummeted towards it, the darkness around you began morphing into the shapes of trees and stones.

Forcefully you hit the ground, your breath knocked out of your lungs.

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

You awoke with a start, your eyes opening back in the blood soaked garden. You took in ragged breaths, the red hot pain burning at your side causing you to cry out.

“Hold on, my heart,” a pained voice whispered against you, a warm green glow coming from their hands as they held you.

Through the blurred tears in your eyes, you could see Halsin holding you tightly, a smoldering scroll next to him. Your memory came back to you in pieces. The fight, the dagger.

The darkness.

“Did I die?” you asked incredulously, your voice like knives through your throat.

Halsin’s eyes squeezed shut as he continued his healing spell, his mouth in a tight line. “Yes,” he answered, his voice barely audible. “I had a revivify scroll, thank Silvans.”

Your heart clenched in your chest at the words. The remaining terror in his voice left you unable to speak.

Halsin continued to heal you, his focus unwavering. You tried to speak, but the problem wasn’t the rawness in your throat, you mostly just couldn’t find the words to say.

You had quite literally been dead. Worst of all, Halsin had watched you fall.

When he finally finished, you breathed a sigh of relief. The pain in your side was gone completely, the warmth of your blood returning to the wound. You snuck a glance up at Halsin as he looked down at you, his expression pained.

“I… I’m sorry,” you managed to choke out, the words catching on your tears.

Halsin clutched you tighter, his eyes filled with a mix of relief and horror. “No, I’m sorry, my heart,” he whispered, his voice trembling. “I should have been there for you. I never should have let that happen.“

You reached up and placed a hand on his cheek, feeling your heart tug at the thought of how scared he must have been. “We were all in that fight together Halsin,” you said softly. “This isn’t your fault.”

He shook his head, his eyes filling with tears before he buried his face in the crook of your neck. You held him close, feeling a sob catch in his throat.

“I almost lost you,” he broke.

The weight of his words lingered heavy between the two of you as you held the large Druid, the gravity of what had happened sinking in. The reality of your mortality felt even more tangible than ever before, a chill running down your spine at the close encounter with death. Halsin’s arms holding you so desperately was both a comfort and a stark reminder of how fragile your lives truly were in this dangerous world.

“I’m here, Halsin,” you assured him.

The Druid began to catch his breath, pulling back and giving you a weak smile.

“I know,” he murmured, his voice still strained from the tightness of his emotions. “I’m not letting you go ever again.”

You couldn’t help but giggle, craving a little levity in the situation. “You can’t keep me in your arms forever.”

Halsin’s face softened at your light heartedness, his hazel eyes twinkling with affection. He gently combed his fingers through your hair, tracing the line of your jaw with his thumb.

“I’ll have to resort to locking you up then,” he quipped, a playful smirk tugging at his lips.

You allowed yourself another breathless laugh, the tension in the air finally starting to dissipate. You nuzzled closer to the Druid’s chest, willing yourself to relax.

You were here, you were alive.

Halsin had saved you.

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

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ddarker-dreams · 5 months

Text

play fighting — chrollo lucilfer.

Hot cocoa is a staple when cooler weather starts setting in.

By your reckoning, it could find a place on every tier of Maslow's hierarchy of needs. A warm, decadent cup with wisps of steam rising from the swirling surface. This mouthwatering mental image is what led you to the kitchenette. Dutifully following the package’s instructions, you rip into the chocolatey package by the serrated edge and get to work.

All the while, a pair of inquisitive eyes track your every movement. You can’t imagine why the sight of you in fluffy pajamas pulling milk from the fridge has Chrollo’s rapt attention. He’s leaning against the counter, sipping on his own concoction. Earl gray tea, if the scent is of any indication.

Your masterpiece is almost complete. Now, for the finishing touch — marshmallows.

Alas. You’ve encountered a problem. The marshmallows are stored in a cabinet that evades your reach. To make matters worse, Chrollo has perched himself right where you’d need to climb up. Should you list clairvoyance among his many capabilities? Logically, you know that feat eludes him, but your suspicions remain.

“Is something the matter, dear?”

Ah, you forgot that you’ve been silently squinting at him while the gears in your head spin. Round and round they go, never producing a viable solution.

“No, not at all,” you dismiss. His gaze never leaves yours, even as he takes another sip of his drink. You can see it in his eyes, that ‘oh, really?’ look. You don’t appreciate that look, for you receive it often, thanks to your shenanigans.

“Your drink’s getting cold,” he points out.

Very astute of him.

The way you see it, this can go a few ways. One, you could ask for his help in procuring your garnish. You could, but… he regards you with such bemusement, finding pleasure in every little thing you do. You’re tired of the court jester role. Asking him for something almost always guarantees that you’ll be putting on a metaphorical cap and bells.

So you cling to your pride. You stand close enough for your shoulder to brush against his, as your target necessitates such sacrifice. Straining while on your tiptoes, your fingertips brush against the damnable cabinet handle, gold and mocking. Vigilant as your efforts are, they’re ultimately fruitless. Your prize remains just out of reach.

Huffing, you turn to face Chrollo, who has no right to look as innocent as he does.

“Could you…” you trail off and shoo him with your hands. You hope that gets the message across.

“Can I ask why? I feel perfectly content here.”

Of course he does.

You’re unsure what spurs on your next action. Pettiness? Irritation? Righteous anger? Who knows. You rest both your palms flat against his bicep and push, as if he were nothing more than an inconvenient obstacle, which, in truth, is a fitting description. He doesn’t so much as budge. The full weight of your body and strength combined amounts to nothing. You can’t comprehend how hard his muscles feel beneath his shirt, it’s like you’re touching a wall.

Although it’s quiet, you hear it. A breathy chuckle escapes his lips.

Your equilibrium is thrown into chaos as you go from your nice, secure spot on the floor to being lifted high. Two large hands settle right above your hips, holding you in place. Your reflexes kick in and you squirm. Fortunately, Chrollo’s grasp doesn’t falter. You realize what he’s getting at and make quick work of opening the cabinet and getting your stupid marshmallows. He brings you down. You only relax when your soles touch solid ground.

Chrollo gives your hips a playful squeeze.

“Try again,” he whispers near your ear.

You want nothing more than to scamper off, but his body envelops you, cutting off any escape. You’re caught between a rock and a hard place, clutching a bag of marshmallows, your Hello Kitty slippers askew.

You sigh.

Life certainly has its challenges.

Should you start with elbowing him or stomping down on his feet…?

#this isn't even play fighting. darling is ready to throw hands for real #yandere chrollo x reader #hxh x reader #chrollo brainrot #scara and blade will be next .#my stuff

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unholyhelbig · 2 months

Note

Your Oversight story is so amazing, I’m obsessed truly. I need some domestic fluff with Nat, reader, and Ronnie. Like making cookies for Ronnie’s class or something!!! Thank you for feeding my mafia boss obsession!

Title: Little Marksman [An Oversight Oneshot]

Ship: Female!Reader x Natasha Romanoff

Summary: Natasha's mother makes an impromtu visit to the United States, sending Natasha and Yelena into a sprial about how their mother will react to their partners.

Warnings(PLEASE READ): None, I think, just fluff!, and horrible grammar

[a/n: This isn't exactly the fluff you requested, but I think it's pretty fluffy! Thank you all for the oversight requests, I promise, I'll get to them soon!]

Check out the full Oversight universe

Natasha Romanoff did not often allow herself to indulge in the simple things. Sleeping in had long been a thing of the past, she’d spring up at the first chirp of an alarm and spend her mornings in a ritual of freshly pressed coffee, a long run that would coat her in a sheen of sweat, and then finally sitting down to attend to the boring side of business.

That, of course, had changed when she welcomed you into her life. You were decidedly not a morning person and would grumble until you found her alarm clock in the dark, shutting it off and pinning Natasha down with your dead weight as you fell back into a deep slumber. She hadn’t the heart to move you.

Then, when Veronica had gotten her own room there were some nights when Natasha would stir from her vigilant sleep. She’d startle, really. Your daughter was mostly silent during the day and happened to be worse at night. She would stand at the bottom of the bed, contemplating waking you.

It only ever bothered you after you watched the ring for the first time. After that, you would sense her presence and it seemed like Natasha was the same. She sat up and blinked, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

“Hi baby,” Natasha croaked, “are you alright?”

Natasha saw the silhouette of Ronnie shake her head and the woman looked sparingly at you. Light breathes escaped you, dead to the world. She heard the little word, barely a whisper. “Nightmare.”

It tugged at Natasha’s heart to the point where it was almost painful. She wanted to wrap her up that first night, pull her close until she wasn’t afraid of whatever had plagued her in her dreams. Tentatively, she scooted to the far side of the mattress and patted the space she’d created between the both of you.

Veronica snuggled under the blankets, shivering as her cold began to ebb away. Natasha felt stiff for a moment, lying on her back. She could feel your daughter’s body heat against her, and made the conscious choice not to move closer.

“You can talk about it, if you want.” She eventually whispered. “I’m here to listen, Ronnie, malen'kiy strelok.”

Little Marksman. Her father used to call Natasha the same, despite her not being the greatest shot. But, she was better than Yelena and that’s all the mattered at the moment. The term of endearment rolled off her tongue like honey and shocked her in the process.

Veronica didn’t say anything, she often didn’t, but she wrapped her tiny, strong arms around Natasha’s arm and buried her cheek into her, reveling in the close contact. She softened instantly and found herself staying awake until Ronnie’s breath evened out.

Neither her alarm, nor Ronnie stirred her this particular morning. Instead, it was a frantic knocking at her door. The sun streaming through the blinds indicated that she had been given the chance to sleep in, and if that wasn’t enough, you had left a little note on her side table: Get some sleep, I’ll handle the morning meetings. Love you!

It was close to noon, from her estimate, so you had kept up your end of the bargain. Natasha groaned into the silk pillow and pulled her way to the door. She glowered at the woman that stood on the other side.

“Did someone die?” Natasha grumbled, “Because you’re about to.”

“You are incredibly grumpy in the morning, has anyone ever told you that?”

Yelena shoved her way into the room. She was holding an envelope that had yet to be opened. There was a specific floral scent, almost like roses. Natasha crinkled her nose; she knew that smell. It had been a constant soothing presence throughout her childhood and beyond. Sometimes, she would walk into random rooms and catch a whisp of the spectral scent.

She snatched the envelope from her sister. It had already been crudely ripped, despite Natasha’s name being on it. This was a federal offense- but most of the stuff that this family did was, so it bothered her surprisingly little.

“Mama is coming for a visit.”

Yelena spilled the words out before Natasha could process the neat Russian writing. Her stomach dropped. Melina and Alexi had moved to a small far just outside of Moscow years ago. They stated that they wanted to get out of the city, but really, Alexi couldn’t keep his hands out of the business if they stayed in the city.

They would call every once and awhile, but were mostly solitary. She’d get a call on Christmas, and her birthday and sometimes the anniversary of her first kill. That one was hit or miss. Rarely- never- had Melina decided to drop by.

“I may have let it slip that you have a girlfriend.”

“Yelena!” Natasha shoved her roughly “Why would you do that?”

“It just came out! She was grilling me about Kate, and I panicked. You know yours is more put together than mine.”

“You threw me under the bus.”

Yelena had a genuinely sad look on her face, one that was borderline pouty. Natasha growled through clenched teeth and finally got a chance to read her mother’s writing. She’d be here tomorrow, and there was too much to do. Natasha’s head started to spin.

In fact, you weren’t more put together than Kate. The two of you seemed to feed off of each other’s chaos. It was fine to deal with on a regular basis, but Melina was like a bloodhound. She would smell fear, and she would play into it until you both were reduced to a crushable size.

Oh, this was not good.

Natasha must have paled noticeably because Yelena took a tepid step closer, creasing her fingers against the empty pink envelope. Melina would be flying alone. She’d be here in two days and that didn’t give either girls much time to process the invasion at all.

Though her father was a stern man in practice, he was much easier to impress than her mother. They balanced one another out, and that was something that would be sorely missed during this visit.

She took a steadying breath, running her fingers over the dented familiarity of her mothers perfect script. There was nothing to worry about, right?

Despite Natasha’s multiple text messages to her mother, insisting that she would send a car to pick her up, Melina took a cab from the airport, not bothering to let either of her daughters in on the fact. She knew the address of her pervious home like the back of her hand, knew the deep green grass of the landscaping and the stretching view of the harbor.

Natasha had been pacing the length of the family room for most of the day. Yelena was draped over the loveseat, her limbs hanging over the sides, making her look nearly lanky compared to the furniture.

“Natasha, please, you are going to wear a hole in the carpet.”

“How can you be so calm?” She halted her pacing, cutting her sister a deadly look.

“I am not calm. I simply mask it better than you.”

The muffled sound of a car door closing made Yelena shoot up from her lounging position, she was standing next to Natasha now, both of them staring wildly at the large oak doors. You and Kate had been sent out with a massive grocery list and it was much too early for the two of you to return with Ronnie. In fact, you usually stopped for some ice cream, or a small lunch as a reward for the tiny girl.

Natasha deemed it better not to inform you, nor Kate, about her mother’s visit. It could be considered cruel, sure, but knowing you the warning would do nothing but send you into an immense panic and that would simply spur her mother on.

Melina had arrived with nothing more than a half-packed duffel bag. She always packed light, using the key on her ring to open the door to the place that was once her home. Natasha and Yelena lingered by the curved entryway, watching as the woman, perfectly sculpted and entirely unchanged, smiled softly at the décor.

“Do not just stand there, girls, come give mama a hug.”

It was an order that Yelena folded in on first. She was stiff at first but at the floral scent that her mother carried like a vice, she melted into the embrace. There was nothing like a mothers hug, and that was evident by her body language.

“Aw, sweet girl” Melina pulled back and squished Yelena’s face between her hands “you are much too lean. Is this Kate girl not feeding you?”

“Mama, prekrati eto” She grumbled, batting the woman away.

Melina narrowed her eyes but focused her attention on her oldest daughter. She grasped both of her hands first, giving them a small squeeze before pulling her into her embrace. Natasha melted, pressed her nose against the side of her mother’s neck. It had been much too long, and despite being reduced to a little girl in this moment, she didn’t seem to mind.

“You’ve healed nicely,” Melina said.

Of course, her mother had heard about the two shots that Natasha took to the back. She had been lucky and avoided any major injury. They were simply superficial, but she could understand how it would sound brutal all the same.

“Now,” she clapped her hands together, getting a devilish look in her eye “where is my granddaughter?”

Natasha choked on air before she glared at Yelena with a look that could kill. Her mother’s hand was patting her back. She’d become tender with age, it seemed. Still, a force to be reckon with, Natasha wouldn’t dare try anything.

“Your granddaughter?”

“Please, Natalia, she sleeps in your bed. Marriage or not, she’s your child. That’s how we got Clint, isn’t it?”

She was at a loss for words. Melina had a point. Clint was a mere stranger to Natasha until her parents took both her and Yelena to the circus that traveled through town. Her younger sister was nothing more than a baby, but Natasha was mystified. More than the clowns, and the acrobats, she had interest in the knife thrower and his charge.

A little boy that was around the same age as Natasha. When the show was over, Natasha refused to move until the young boy, covered in dirt and with dark purple bags under his eyes, started to sweep piles of popcorn and empty paper cups to the sidelines.

She’d introduced herself, and though he was quiet, she took an instant liking to him. Alexi had a few choice words with the boys guardian, who turned out, didn’t want to keep the kid and regarded him as nothing more than an employee- a runaway that had latched onto the circus. He had no idea who the boy belonged to, and Alexi decided that Clint belonged to them, now.

Instead of Clint being like family, he was family.

“Oh Mama, she will marry this girl.” Yelena beamed, “titles be damned.”

Natasha groaned into her hands. Had she thought about marriage? Yes, absolutely. She wanted nothing more than to make you officially hers. But she wanted to wait until the perfect moment; she wanted to not only include Ronnie, but get her input as well.

Melina gave a beautiful smile, patting Natasha’s cheek “I know, moya milaya. Are you not going to show me to my room?”

It was apparent that you and Kate had been sent on a fools errand when you finally got to the store and got a better look at the handwritten list that you were given: Milk, eggs, bread, A single MTS-I Mortorq screw, VW Mk4 Golf R32 duel clutch plate- and seriously, what the hell was that?

Darcy would know, and would have caught on a lot faster than you or Kate did. The more you thought about it, the more you realized that there was no reason to go to the store at all. You’d gone two days prior and knew for a fact that you’d gotten everything recognizable on the list.

“Kid,” Kate gave Ronnie’s had a squeeze “we’ve been played, bamboozled, tricked.”

Your daughter lifted an eyebrow at the woman’s antics. In a few years, she’d move on to eye rolling, and while you weren’t prepared for it, you would be glad for the indication. You’d done it yourself, crumpling up the list and shoving it into your pocket. There was no need to brave the crowds in the grocery store.

Instead, you aimed your sights on the small frozen yogurt place that was nestled in between a shoe store and a Gamestop. You might as well get a treat while you were out, considering Natasha requested you go further than the closest store because she liked the bread at this one better.

“They clearly wanted us out of the house. But why?”

“Yelena usually tells me everything.”

“Huh,”

“What? She does!”

“Doesn’t seem like the type.”

A sweet frozen scent hit your lungs and the little bell above the door sounded. There was a less than enthusiastic employee behind the counter, moving like molasses. You did have to kill time…apparently.

Veronica spoke up when dessert was involved. She didn’t carry a conversation with the teenager, but she did give little indicating sounds. Your arms were crossed over your chest to stave off the cold, and you settled for a simple chocolate. Ronnie loaded hers with a bunch of toppings, and Kate got vanilla with extra (extra) rainbow sprinkles. Each bite she took crunched like gravel.

“The point is, she didn’t say anything about something going down, and if it was, wouldn’t they want us there? Clint’s out of town so we’re the only muscle they’ve got.”

The employee behind the counter lifted an eyebrow at you both and you made sure to stick an extra couple of bills in the tip jar with a sheepish smile. You ushered them both to one of the benches outside, basking in the highpoint of the sun and cursing Kate’s tact, or lack thereof.

“You’ve got a point. Maybe it’s something personal?” You suggested, reaching your pink plastic spoon over and stealing a bite of Ronnie’s candy-coated yogurt. She batted you away, a little too slow and you claimed your prize.

“Yelena tells me-“

“Everything, I know.”

Kate took her own scoop of frozen yogurt and crunched on it thoughtfully. “They’re nervous. If they’re being this secretive. They sent us out for car parts for a car that none of us own.”

“Lena said that Mama is coming for a visit.”

Ronnie’s feet didn’t’ touch the ground and she was working at dislodging a frozen gummy bear that became mostly inedible. She kicked back and forth and only looked up from her task when she was met with silence.

Kate’s mouth was propped open, and your eyes were wide. She frantically glanced between the both of you and shrugged her little shoulders. “This is one of those things I’m supposed to tell you, right?”

Kate nodded, suddenly losing her appetite “Uh-huh,”

You’d heard about Melina before, in passing, but Natasha seemed to bristle about the woman. She did the same for her father, but you knew the legends of Alexi and his kind hand when it came to running the city. Her mother was entirely different; entirely horrifying.

You’d seen a picture of her in a small and dusty shoe-box while helping Natasha clean out the attic one day last summer. It was stiflingly hot, and you were shocked to find it framed, but shoved away all the same.

Natasha was young, maybe around eleven, and Clint was next to her, smiling with missing front teeth. Yelena was smaller, the large hands of Alexi engulfing her shoulders. And then there was Melina, even in casual cargo shorts and striped tank-top, she looked regal and oh-so intimidating.

Your girlfriends’ arms wrapped around her midsection, her chin resting on your shoulder. She gave you a squeeze and stared down at the photo you were holding.

“You were cute as a kid.”

“were?”

“Still are!” you corrected, smiling lazily down at the family photo.

There was something longing behind your gaze that Natasha admired. Not that she would tell you that. Instead, she told you about the trip to Busche Gardens that ended in Clint nearly drowning and Yelena throwing up after she scarfed down three corndogs and a funnel cake.

Now you felt like you would vomit yourself, sliding your frozen yogurt away with a frown. You were far from prepared to meet Melina Romanoff, and by the green look on Kate’s face, so was she.

“Oh, we are so fuc… screwed. We’re screwed.”

“I know the word fuck, mommy says it all the time.”

“Just because I say it doesn’t mean you can. Eat your yogurt.”

You were clearly having a crisis and Veronica was clearly enjoying the fact that you’d given up on your frozen yogurt. She took alternating bites and would most definitely lose her appetite if she kept going, but you couldn’t’ bring yourself to push it away.

“Why wouldn’t they tell us?” you asked.

“Probably because of this” Kate made a vague gesture “this who panicking thing? Melina is going to kill us both and then it won’t matter but they decided to spare us the torture of waiting for this day.”

It felt like slowly working a mouse away from a glue trap by the time your frozen yogurt had turned to nothing but a brown soup. There was nothing to hold you and Kate from home now, and Ronnie was growing restless under the hand of the sun. You swore you heard her mutter something about Grandma, but chose to ignore it entirely in favor for pure fear.

Natasha seemed to be waiting at the door to intercept both you before you went any further. Not that you minded her soothing hand on your chest, and an apologetic look in her eyes. She smoothed your shirt down once, and then nervously, twice.

“Sweetie, I don’t think it’ll un-wrinkle, no matter how hot your hands are.”

“See that,” She whispered harshly, “Is something we’re not going to do. Both of you need to be on your best behavior. Understood? Better than best. Kate maybe don’t… talk.”

“Aye, captain.”

The younger woman frowned at her own words and instead settled for miming zipping her lips shut. Maybe it would better for you not to talk either. From your spot in the foyer, with Ronnie clinging to the fabric of your jeans, you could hear the muffled Russian. Yelena was responding to something, a bit of a whining tone to her voice.

Natasha’s hands had made their way to yours. She knit them together, a sort of an anchor. The other hand reached down to Ronnie, who was suddenly shy despite her earlier indifference. You could throw up right here and now but figured that would only serve to embarrass you further.

There was a clear similarity between Melina and Natasha; the high cheek bones, the striking green gaze, the flawless skin. She held the same cold stare that her daughter did but could hide her emotions better than your girlfriend. A stone dropped in your stomach under her gaze.

Natasha squeezed your hand tighter, her thumb on your pulse point. The pad of her finger ran over it gently, assuredly. She knew you were horrified. Kate gulped (which to her credit, was technically not talking, but was still painfully audible.)

Melina had a knife in her hand, a half-carved apple resting between she and Yelena like a peace offering. There were differences in the cuts, one smoother, the other more practiced. This family found leisure activity in carving techniques.

Natasha warned in a breath “Bud' milym, mama.”

Her mother didn’t heed the warning. Instead, she closed the difference between you. Yelena instinctively tightened her grip on the kitchen knife, not that she’d ever use it. Melina scrutinized you for what seemed like years, but was only a few ticking seconds.

“Ona khoroshen'kaya”

“spasibo, Miss Romanoff”

“ah, you know Russian?”

“Yelena has been teaching me.” You swallowed the dryness in your throat as her raised eyebrow lowered to something less intimidating. “Ma’am.”

“Manners too. Maybe you can teach my Natalia something or two about that.”

You felt you cheeks heat up and you diverted your eyes to the floor. It had directed the attention in the room to the small girl clinging to your leg as if it were a piece of beached driftwood and she were fighting against the raging currents.

Melina knelt down in front of your daughter, her rigid stance loosening until she looked more like a mother than yourself. She was soft in this moment, the sun hitting her eyes in a way that made them glow supernaturally.

“Hi, Malen'kiy strelok”

Natasha parted her lips, as if to inform her mother that Veronica didn’t speak much, if at all. She’d gotten better, sure, but it was nearly stagnant with new people. Ronnie studied Melina as the woman had studied you.

“What does that mean?” Ronnie asked, her grip lessening.

Melina smiled “Little marksman. From what I hear, your mother has a very good aim. Do you?”

“I don’t know yet. Kate says I do.”

“Well, I’m sure we will find out in due time, milaya devushka.” She tentatively tucked a strand of hair behind Ronnie’s ear before standing again and focusing her attention on Kate. Kate who had paled at least ten shades and was sweating despite the air conditioning in the house.

Yelena straightened up herself, giving a silent warning with her stare. Of course, Kate didn’t’ see it like you and Natasha did, her arm having moved from your hand to your hip bone in the quiet approval from her mother. She’d relaxed significantly.

“Hi,” Kate squeaked out and Yelena stifled a groan put massaged her temple.

Melina seemed to look to Natasha for confirmation: This is the one she chooses?

With you, there was merit. There were callouses on your hands and scars that hardened under the fabric of your shirt. Kate was much of the same, though, she showed it in a nervous, fluttering type of way that presented outwardly as fumbling and awkward.

“Krasivo, no... puglivo. Like deer.” Melina offered a small smile to the girl and her breath seemed to release.

Skittish. Kate was certainly that, but she seemed to balance out Yelena with the perfect amount of caring and heart. Melina was nothing, if not vigilant. She clapped her hands together, that small smile turning into a large grin. “You all must eat something, you look starving. And Natasha, you are slouching, don’t’ slouch in front of your daughter. Those bad manners.”

“Mama, I am not slouching.”

Natasha groaned as the tension in the room broke. Her forehead pushed against your cheek. Veronica dragged Kate over to the kitchen island by the hand and instruction on the proper way to carve pieces from an apple began, much to Yelena’s huffing dismay.

Hands shifted from your hips, finding the two back pockets of your jeans. “She likes you,”

“I would be dead by now if she didn’t.”

“Yeah, right when you walked through the door.”

The two of you chuckled, her nose nudging against yours. “She called Ronnie your daughter.”

“I’m sorry, dorogoy, she pushes. She means well.”

You pressed a small kiss to the corner of her mouth, words a light whisper “don’t apologize. I like the sound of it.”

Before Natasha could collect her thoughts, her rush of pure emotion, you had pulled away from her and joined the rest of the family around the kitchen island. Though she couldn’t hear exactly what was being said, Natasha was more than content standing in the doorway, her arms crossed over her chest.

Her heart pounded fondly.

[Taglist🕷♡: @dumbasslesbi, @lostremind, @toouncreativeforausername @autorasexy @eringranola @mikookaaaaaao @marvelwoman-simp @pacmanmiles @mostlymarvelsstuff, @mrsrushman, @milfsandtittyenthusiast, @random-raccoon4, @ravenromanova, @mysticalmoonlight7, @ahintofchaos@cowboyboots236 @lissaaaa145, @natsxwife@a-spes, @kyleeservopoulos]

#Natasha Romanoff #Natasha Romanov #Natasha Romanoff x reader #Natasha Romanoff x y/n #Natasha ROmanoff x you #Natasha Romanov x y/n #Natasha Romanov x you #Natasha Romanov x reader #Mafia au #Yelena Belova #Kate Bishop #Clint Barton #Reader insert #request

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wheredafandomat · 4 months

Text

Club Paradise 🫦

1 | Dirty Martini

Avenger! Loki x female reader

18+ | contains smut, alcohol

Bringing the glass to his lips, Loki took a sip, swirling the whisky in his mouth for a moment before swallowing, the burn in his throat keeping him vigilant. Placing the glass back against the bar, the melodic music merged with the intoxicating liquid left him feeling almost placid. Almost.

“You need to relax more, so many knots”

“You’re late” Loki answered as your hands massaged his shoulders.

“Can one really be late to such an affair?” You teased.

“Are you wearing what I sent you?” Loki asked, ignoring your gaietyness.

“Buy me a drink first” you replied before Loki exhaled, gesturing to the seat next to him.

“A martini” Loki spoke as the bartender looked at him “please” he added, more as an afterthought.

“Extra dirty” you added, turning from the bartender to Loki before opening your coat a little, revealing the emerald lace bralette you were wearing underneath. Reaching out to touch you, Loki’s eyes widened slightly as you grabbed his wrist before placing it down.

“Down boy” you smiled sultrily before the bartender placed your drink in front of you. Bringing the thin stemmed glass to your lips, you took a sip. “Good comes to those who wait” you smirked at Loki as he watched your movements.

“I’m an impatient man,” he replied sternly.

“Not for me” you grinned “for me you’re a good boy, aren’t you?”

“Please” Loki answered, his brows raising a little as his hard exterior began to crumble.

“Please what?”

“Please can we go upstairs?” he almost pleaded.

“Take this as a lesson in delayed gratification Mr Laufeyson” you smirked.

“Loki,” he corrected.

“Is that what you want me to call you tonight? Loki?” You questioned.

“Yes, just Loki,” he nodded.

“Well, Loki, once I’ve finished my drink we can go upstairs, okay?” You smiled “good.”

The ride in the elevator was silent as you looked at yourself in the mirror, ignoring Loki’s piercing gaze fixated on you. You bit down your smile as his eyes ventured across your body, his nostrils flaring as he fought down his primal urge to take you right there. Delayed gratification your words echoed in his head.

Pushing the door of the suite open, Loki was hot on your tail, practically slamming the door closed behind him before pushing you up against it and pressing his lips to yours in a passionate kiss. It had been weeks since he had seen you last, too busy with missions and everyday he craved you more and more. He needed you. You barely broke the kiss as he pushed your coat off of your shoulders before it fell to the floor, pooling at your feet.

“Magnificent” Loki uttered, taking you in. Your body draped in his colours.

“Kneel” you leered, Loki wasting no time to drop to his knees in front of you. Your gazes met for a moment before his eyes roamed your body, falling to your legs as he began pressing kisses against them. You stepped out of your heels as his kisses met your ankles. Looking back up into your eyes, Loki’s hand began moving up your leg, venturing dangerously close to your inner thigh. Your breath escaped you, your eyes almost falling closed as his hand moved higher. The panties were crotchless so there was no barrier between his hand and your needy pussy.

Closing his eyes, Loki reveled in the feeling of his hand moving through your soft folds as your breaths began to quicken.

“Get on the bed” you ordered, trying to remain forbidden, rhadamanthine, just like Loki wanted you to. He obeyed, quickly standing to his feet before making his way onto the bed. “I read your note” you spoke, stepping towards him “about what you want to do, what you want me to do.”

“Yes?” Loki pleaded, excited at the prospect.

“Well, you know what to do next Loki” you smirked, saying his name pointedly as you reached the bed. Loki laid back against it as your hand found the bulge straining against his trousers. “You’re already so hard for me, good boy” you praised as you straddled him. Loki bucked his hips as you rolled your hips against his. “But this isn’t where you want me, is it?” You teased as Loki shook his head furiously no. Smiling, you moved yourself up his body, Loki’s hands guiding you exactly where he wanted you as one of your knees found the side of his head. You barely had time to find your balance before Loki was dragging your other leg up, yanking you down on top of him. You placed your hands against the headboard for stability as Loki began exploring your centre.

“Eager I see” you giggled as he held you down tightly against him, his arms wrapping around your thighs. “Ughh” you moaned as his lips wrapped around your clit, gently sucking. “Just like thattt” you guided, gyrating your hips as Loki flattened his tongue against your pussy.

“Mhmmm” he groaned against you, the vibrations travelling through you in a pleasing buzz.

“Fuck!” You almost came, hips moving to and fro as Loki sucked your clit again “I need you Loki, I need you now” you implored, your roles changing as you begged him to fuck you. Loki was quick to unbuckle his belt as you got off of his face and moved back down. Straddling him, you both exhaled as you took him inside of you.

“Norns, I’ve missed you” Loki almost sighed, content in the feeling of being inside of you.

Your eyes fell closed as he lifted his hips, fucking into you with ardour as you bounced above him. Your jaw was slack, moans and chants of his name falling from your lips as your clit hit his pelvis with every thrust. You were so close and so was he, you could feel it. His thrusts grew sloppy as he neared his orgasm.

“We’ll never leave it this long again” Loki grunted, slamming his hips up into yours “promise me” he continued, swiping his thumb against his tongue before rubbing it against your clit “promise me we won’t go this long without seeing each other again”

“I-I promiseee” you nodded desperately, your pleasure swelling.

“That’s my girl” Loki smirked, stilling his movements as he came inside of you, his cock throbbing against your walls.

“Fuckk” you mewled breathlessly as your arousal gushed out of you, dripping down Loki’s cock.

“And next time don’t be late” he spoke, coming down from his high as you got off of him.

“Whatever you say, Loki” you smiled.

Tags 🖤

@lokisgoodgirl @thenotoriouserg @chantsdemarins @donaweasley @xorpsbane @mcufan72 @loz-3 @sailorholly @lovingchoices14 @lokiedokiee @noideakitten @mochie85 @mischief2sarawr @lokiprompts @lulubelle814 @fictive-sl0th @peaches1958 @gigglingtiggerv2 @tmilover1993 @lyds247 @dustychinchilla74 @lokis-dark-queen @november-rayne @12-pm-510 @newtomofgods @eyesbluelikethetitanic @lokiestorch @beautyb1ade @angelilacsworld @lokidokieokie @silver-tongue-taken-to-bed @asgards-princess-of-mischief @anundyingfidelity @buttercupcookies-blog

#club paradise #loki x reader #loki x female reader #loki fanfic #loki (marvel)#oc fiction #loki fanfiction #tom hiddelston loki #loki smut #loki x you #loki x y/n #loki x you smut #avenger loki #avenger Loki x reader #loki imagine

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callsigns-haze · 1 month

Text

Bad Idea, right???

Pairing: Azriel x reader Warning: This chapter contains explicit sexual content and emotional turmoil SMUT. Summary: After a frantic search, Cassian and his companions discover YN and Azriel's hidden rendezvous, realizing that love finds a way even in the most unexpected of places.

Part 2

YN stood at the edge of the bustling Night Court party, observing the revelry with a sense of detachment. As a female soldier in Cassian's armies, she was more accustomed to the clang of swords and the heat of battle than the swirl of music and laughter that filled the extravagant hall.

Rhysand, the High Lord of the Night Court, was engrossed in conversation with his mate, Feyre, their love evident in the intimate way they danced together. YN admired their bond from afar, but she couldn't shake the feeling of being out of place amidst the festivities.

"YN," Cassian's voice interrupted her thoughts, and she turned to face him, grateful for the familiar presence of her commander. "Still not a fan of these parties, huh?"

YN shrugged, a wry smile playing on her lips. "You know me, Cassian. I prefer action to idle chatter."

Cassian chuckled, understanding glinting in his eyes. "I can't argue with that. Speaking of action, we need to discuss the upcoming mission. Let's find somewhere quieter to talk."

As they moved away from the crowded dance floor, YN's gaze inadvertently drifted to the shadows where Azriel, the mysterious spymaster of the Night Court, stood observing the festivities with his customary silent vigilance. There was something captivating about him, something she couldn't quite put into words.

Cassian followed her gaze and grinned knowingly. "Ah, I see you've noticed Azriel. Careful, YN. He's not one to be trifled with."

YN tore her gaze away, feeling a flush of embarrassment heat her cheeks. "I wasn't... I mean, it's not like that."

Cassian raised an eyebrow, amusement dancing in his eyes. "Sure, YN. Whatever you say."

They found a secluded alcove where they could discuss the details of the upcoming mission in relative privacy. As they delved into strategy and logistics, YN couldn't shake the feeling of being watched. Glancing around discreetly, she caught Azriel's dark gaze lingering on her for a moment before he turned away, disappearing into the shadows once more.

Despite her best efforts to focus on the task at hand, YN found her thoughts drifting back to Azriel. There was a magnetic pull between them, a connection she couldn't ignore. But she pushed the thought aside, knowing that their respective roles in the Night Court's hierarchy made any sort of personal entanglement impossible.

As the night wore on and the party continued in full swing, YN excused herself from Cassian's company, citing exhaustion from the day's training exercises. Making her way through the throngs of revelers, she found herself drawn once again to the shadows where Azriel lingered.

"Mind if I join you?" she asked, stepping into the darkness beside him.

Azriel regarded her with his trademark unreadable expression before inclining his head in silent invitation. They stood in companionable silence, watching the festivities unfold in the distance.

"Thank you for the dance," Azriel said suddenly, his voice soft but carrying a weight of unspoken meaning.

YN's heart skipped a beat, surprised by his unexpected words. "I didn't realize you were watching."

Azriel shrugged, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips. "I always watch."

There was a vulnerability in his admission that took YN by surprise, a glimpse beneath the stoic facade he presented to the world. In that moment, she felt a spark of connection between them, a shared understanding born of their experiences as warriors in a world plagued by darkness.

As the music swirled around them, YN and Azriel found themselves drawn into a tentative dance, their movements graceful yet tentative, as if testing the waters of this newfound connection.

Azriel led with a steady hand, guiding YN through the steps of the dance with a quiet confidence that belied the shadows that clung to him like a second skin. As they moved together, they exchanged light conversation, a rare moment of respite amidst the chaos of their respective duties.

"How is it to work as Cassian's right hand?" Azriel asked, his voice soft but tinged with genuine curiosity.

YN smiled, the warmth of his gaze melting away the walls she had built around herself. "It's... challenging, to say the least. Cassian has a way of pushing you to your limits, of always expecting the best from you. But he's also fiercely loyal and protective of those under his command. I couldn't ask for a better leader."

Azriel nodded thoughtfully, his eyes betraying a hint of admiration. "He speaks highly of you. Says you're one of the best soldiers he's ever trained."

A flush of pride warmed YN's cheeks at the unexpected praise. "Coming from Cassian, that means a lot."

"And what about you?" YN asked, turning the conversation back to Azriel. "How is it to be a High Lord's spy? I imagine it comes with its own set of challenges."

Azriel's expression grew solemn, the weight of his responsibilities evident in the depths of his dark eyes. "It's a lonely existence, living in the shadows, always watching, always listening. But it's necessary. Someone has to keep an eye on the darker corners of our world, to ensure that Prythian remains safe from those who would seek to destroy it."

YN reached out, a gentle touch against his arm, a silent gesture of understanding. "You're not alone, Azriel. Not as long as you have allies who are willing to stand by your side."

For a moment, they danced in silence, the music a soft melody in the background as they lost themselves in the rhythm of each other's presence. In that moment, amidst the swirling dance of light and shadow, YN and Azriel found a fleeting sense of peace, a respite from the chaos of their world.

And though they knew that their duties would soon call them back to the harsh realities of their respective roles, for now, they allowed themselves to simply be, to exist in this fragile moment of connection that bound them together in ways they could not yet comprehend.

As YN and Azriel continued their dance, their movements growing more fluid and effortless with each passing moment, they were unaware of the watchful eyes that observed them from afar.

Rhysand and Feyre approached Cassian with matching expressions of concern etched on their faces. Cassian greeted them with a nod, his attention momentarily diverted from the dance unfolding before him.

"Something seems off about YN and Azriel," Rhysand remarked, his voice low but laced with a hint of unease. "Have you noticed?"

Cassian furrowed his brow, tearing his gaze away from YN and Azriel to focus on his High Lord and his mate. "What do you mean?"

Feyre glanced over at YN and Azriel, her eyes narrowing slightly as she observed their interaction. "They're dancing. Talking. It's... unusual."

Rhysand's gaze darkened, a flicker of concern passing through his eyes. "Azriel doesn't dance. And YN rarely attends these parties. Something must be going on."

Cassian's expression hardened, a protective instinct rising within him as he watched YN and Azriel move together with an intimacy that seemed out of place amidst the opulent surroundings of the Night Court. "I'll keep an eye on them. Make sure everything's alright."

Rhysand, Feyre, and Cassian exchanged puzzled glances as they realized that YN and Azriel had vanished from their sight. A sense of unease settled over them, the unanswered questions lingering in the air like a silent accusation.

"Where do you think they went?" Feyre asked, her voice tight with concern.

Cassian's jaw clenched, his instincts screaming at him to find YN and ensure her safety. "I don't know, but we need to find them. Something doesn't feel right."

Rhysand nodded in agreement, his expression grave as he surveyed the bustling crowd around them. "Spread out. Look for any sign of them. We can't afford to let them wander off unattended."

With a shared sense of urgency, they dispersed into the throng of partygoers, their eyes scanning the room for any trace of the missing pair.

Meanwhile, in the quiet seclusion of Azriel's private room, YN and Azriel found themselves alone at last, the noise of the party fading into the distance as they closed the door behind them.

Azriel turned to face YN, his gaze intense as he searched her eyes for any sign of hesitation. "Are you sure about this?"

YN met his gaze with unwavering determination, her heart pounding in her chest as she took a step closer to him. "I've never been more sure of anything in my life."

Without another word, Azriel closed the distance between them, his lips meeting hers in a fierce and passionate kiss that left them both breathless. In that moment, the world fell away, leaving only the two of them entwined in a tangle of desire and longing.

As they surrendered to the heat of their passion, they knew that their union was forbidden, that their love could never be openly acknowledged in the unforgiving world of the fae. But in the darkness of Azriel's private room, they were free to be themselves, free to love each other without fear or judgment.

As Azriel pushed YN gently onto the soft mattress, a rush of anticipation coursed through both of them. The air between them crackled with desire, the weight of their forbidden love hanging heavy in the quiet room.

With practiced hands, Azriel deftly removed YN's corset, his touch sending shivers down her spine as the fabric fell away, leaving her exposed and vulnerable beneath his gaze. His eyes roamed over her body, tracing the curve of her hips and the swell of her breasts with a hunger that mirrored her own.

"You're beautiful," he murmured, his voice husky with desire. "More beautiful than I could ever have imagined."

YN's breath caught in her throat at his words, a flush of heat spreading across her cheeks as she met his intense gaze. The weight of his admiration washed over her, filling her with a heady sense of power and desire.

But as Azriel's hands began to explore her body with a gentle urgency, YN grew impatient for his touch, the ache between her thighs becoming almost unbearable.

"Please," she whispered, her voice barely more than a breathless plea. "I need you."

With a low growl of desire, Azriel gave in to her request, his lips finding hers in a searing kiss that left them both gasping for air. As their bodies entwined in a passionate embrace, they surrendered to the heat of their desire, losing themselves in the ecstasy of each other's touch.

Azriel's lips trailed lower, leaving a trail of fire in their wake as they caressed YN's shoulders and neck. His touch was electrifying, igniting a hunger within her that she had never known before. With each kiss, each gentle nip of his teeth, he sent waves of pleasure coursing through her body.

As his lips descended further, Azriel's fingers began to toy with YN's nipples, eliciting a soft gasp of pleasure from her lips. His touch was both gentle and possessive, his fingers tracing delicate circles around her sensitive peaks, coaxing them to stiffen beneath his touch.

YN arched her back in response, offering herself up to him with a fervor that matched his own. The ache between her thighs grew more intense with each passing moment, aching for the release that only Azriel could give her.

With a low growl of desire, Azriel continued his descent, his lips blazing a trail of fire across her skin as he kissed lower and lower. His fingers continued to toy with her nipples, teasing and tormenting her until she thought she might lose her mind with longing.

And then, finally, his lips found their destination, trailing lower and lower until he reached the apex of her thighs. With a reverence that bordered on worship, he pressed his lips to her most intimate place, his tongue teasing and tasting her with a hunger that matched her own.

YN cried out in ecstasy as Azriel's tongue danced over her folds, sending bolts of pleasure shooting through her body. His fingers continued to toy with her nipples, driving her closer and closer to the edge of oblivion with each passing moment.

In that moment, as Azriel worshipped her body with a passion that bordered on divine, YN knew that she had found paradise in his arms. And as the flames of desire consumed them both, they surrendered to the ecstasy of their passion, lost in a world of sensation and pleasure that was all their own.

As Azriel delved deeper into her, YN's moans grew louder, her cries of pleasure echoing off the walls of the quiet room. She arched her back, pressing herself closer to him, her fingers tangling in his hair as she urged him on.

"Azriel," she gasped, her voice raw with need. "Yes, like that... don't stop."

Azriel's tongue flicked and teased her sensitive flesh, his fingers matching the rhythm of his movements as he drove her closer and closer to the edge of ecstasy. He lost himself in the taste and scent of her, his senses overwhelmed by the heady intoxication of her desire.

With each flick of his tongue, each thrust of his fingers, YN felt herself spiraling higher and higher, teetering on the brink of release. She clung to him desperately, her body trembling with the force of her need as she chased the elusive peak of pleasure that hovered just out of reach.

And then, with a cry that bordered on desperation, YN shattered into a million pieces, her entire body convulsing with the force of her release. Azriel continued to pleasure her through the waves of ecstasy, prolonging her pleasure until she thought she might lose her mind with the intensity of it all.

As YN slowly came down from the dizzying heights of pleasure, she felt Azriel withdraw from her, leaving her feeling strangely empty and bereft. She blinked, her vision still hazy with the remnants of her orgasm, and when she looked down, she couldn't help but gasp in surprise at the sight before her.

Azriel's length was impressive, to say the least, standing proud and unyielding between them. YN's eyes widened at the sight, her cheeks flushing with a mixture of embarrassment and desire as she took in the size of him.

Azriel chuckled softly at her reaction, his eyes twinkling with amusement as he watched her gaze linger on him. "Like what you see?"

YN tore her gaze away, feeling a blush creeping up her cheeks at being caught staring. "I... I've never seen anything like it before."

Azriel's grin widened, a teasing glint in his eyes as he leaned closer to her. "Is that so? You're drooling, you know."

YN's cheeks grew even hotter at his playful taunt, and she quickly wiped at her mouth with the back of her hand, mortified at her own lack of control.

"I am not!" she protested, though her embarrassment only seemed to amuse Azriel even more.

"Sure you're not," he teased, his voice dripping with mock innocence. "But don't worry, love. I promise I'll take good care of you."

As he spoke, Azriel leaned in closer, his lips brushing against hers in a tender kiss that sent sparks flying through YN's veins. In that moment, any lingering embarrassment was forgotten, replaced by a hunger that burned hotter than ever before.

As Azriel slipped into her, YN felt a powerful stretch unlike anything she had ever experienced before. A sharp intake of breath escaped her lips as she felt him filling her completely, her body adjusting to accommodate his size. The sensation was intense, overwhelming, and she couldn't help but cry out, a mixture of pleasure and discomfort echoing in her voice.

Azriel paused, concern flickering in his eyes as he saw the tears welling up in YN's eyes. He cooed softly, his voice filled with tenderness as he brushed away the tears with his thumb.

"Shh, love, it's okay," he whispered, his lips pressing gentle kisses against her forehead. "I've got you. Just relax and breathe."

YN nodded, trying to focus on the reassuring warmth of Azriel's touch as she willed herself to relax. With each shallow breath, she felt herself beginning to adjust to the sensation of him inside her, the discomfort slowly giving way to a burgeoning sense of pleasure.

Sensing her readiness, Azriel began to move, his thrusts slow and steady as he explored the depths of her desire. With each movement, he delved deeper, pushing her to new heights of ecstasy with each powerful thrust.

As YN surrendered to the pleasure coursing through her veins, she felt a sense of liberation unlike anything she had ever known before. In Azriel's arms, she felt safe, cherished, and desired in ways she had never thought possible.

And as they moved together in perfect harmony, lost in the rhythm of their shared passion, YN knew that she had found something truly special in Azriel. Something worth holding onto, no matter where their desires may lead them.

As their bodies moved together in a symphony of passion, YN felt herself teetering on the edge of ecstasy once again. Each thrust of Azriel's hips sent bolts of pleasure shooting through her, igniting a fire within her that threatened to consume her whole.

"Azriel," she moaned, her voice a breathless plea as she neared the pinnacle of her desire. "Oh gods, Azriel, I'm close."

Azriel's movements grew more urgent, his own desire burning brightly in his eyes as he chased his own release alongside hers. He leaned in closer, his lips finding hers in a searing kiss that stole her breath away.

"Come for me, YN," he whispered against her lips, his voice raw with need. "Let go, love. I've got you."

With one final, powerful thrust, YN felt herself shatter into a million pieces, her entire body convulsing with the force of her release. She cried out Azriel's name like a prayer, her voice echoing off the walls of the quiet room as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over her.

Azriel followed soon after, his own release washing over him like a tidal wave as he buried himself deep inside her, his body trembling with the intensity of his desire.

For a timeless moment, they lay wrapped in each other's arms, lost in the blissful aftermath of their passion. And as they drifted back to reality, their hearts still pounding in their chests, they knew that they had found something truly special in each other.

In the quiet intimacy of Azriel's private room, amidst the shadows of the Night Court, YN and Azriel had discovered a love that transcended the boundaries of duty and destiny. And as they lay tangled together in the aftermath of their passion, they knew that no matter what the future held, their love would endure, eternal and unbreakable.

---

Outside Azriel's room, Cassian, Rhysand, and Feyre continued their frantic search for YN and Azriel, their concern growing with each passing moment. Rhysand attempted to reach out to them telepathically, but his efforts were met with silence, adding to their growing sense of unease.

"They're not answering," Rhysand said, his voice tight with worry. "I can't sense them anywhere in the palace."

Cassian's jaw clenched, his instincts screaming at him to find YN and ensure her safety. "We need to keep looking. They can't have gone far."

But just as they were about to continue their search, a familiar voice cut through the tension like a knife.

"Looking for someone?"

They turned to see Mor standing in the hallway, a mischievous grin playing on her lips. Cassian's expression darkened as he realized the implications of her words.

"What do you know, Mor?" he demanded, his voice betraying his frustration.

Mor laughed, a musical sound that grated on Cassian's nerves. "Oh, nothing much. Just that I saw Azriel and his lover sneaking off into his private room a little while ago."

Cassian's eyes widened in disbelief, his mind racing as he processed Mor's words. "His lover? You mean YN?"

Mor nodded, her grin widening at the realization that she had caught them in the act. "That's the one. Looks like they found a way to entertain themselves without us after all."

Rhysand exchanged a knowing glance with Cassian and Feyre, a sense of relief washing over them at the knowledge that YN and Azriel were safe, if not a little indisposed.

"Well, I suppose we can give them some privacy," Rhysand said, his voice tinged with amusement. "They've earned it."

With that, they turned and made their way back down the hallway, leaving YN and Azriel to their own devices in the quiet seclusion of Azriel's private room. And though they may not have found them where they expected, they knew that wherever YN and Azriel were, they were together, lost in the depths of their shared passion and desire.

As Cassian, Rhysand, and Feyre made their way back through the halls of the Night Court, a mixture of emotions swirled within them. Cassian's initial frustration gave way to relief knowing that YN was safe, albeit in a situation he hadn't anticipated. Rhysand's amusement lingered, tempered by a sense of understanding and respect for the bond between YN and Azriel. Feyre, ever perceptive, offered a knowing smile, her own experiences with passion and desire coloring her reaction.

Once they were out of earshot, Rhysand turned to Cassian and Feyre, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Well, it seems our concern was unwarranted. YN and Azriel have found their own way of... entertaining themselves."

Cassian couldn't help but chuckle, the tension of their search dissipating in the wake of Mor's revelation. "I suppose we should have known better. Those two are always full of surprises, and hate parties."

Feyre nodded in agreement, her lips quirking into a knowing smile. "The bond finds a way, even in the most unexpected places."

With a shared sense of understanding, they continued on their way, their footsteps echoing through the empty halls of the Night Court. And though they may not have found YN and Azriel where they expected, they knew that their bond was strong enough to weather any storm, to overcome any obstacle that stood in their way.

As they returned to the festivities, their minds filled with thoughts of love and desire, Cassian, Rhysand, and Feyre couldn't help but feel a sense of warmth and happiness for YN and Azriel. For in a world filled with darkness and uncertainty, they had found a beacon of light in each other's arms, a love that would endure for all eternity.

-----

As YN and Azriel lay entwined in the quiet intimacy of Azriel's private room, they revealed in the aftermath of their passion, their bodies still humming with the echoes of their shared ecstasy.

Azriel brushed a stray lock of hair away from YN's face, his touch gentle as he traced the curve of her cheek with his fingertips. "Are you alright?" he asked softly, concern flickering in his eyes.

YN nodded, a contented smile playing on her lips as she snuggled closer to him, reveling in the warmth of his embrace. "I'm more than alright. I've never felt better."

Azriel's lips curved into a tender smile as he pressed a gentle kiss against her forehead. "Good. You deserve nothing less than absolute happiness."

In that moment, as they lay wrapped in each other's arms, YN felt a sense of peace wash over her, a feeling of contentment unlike anything she had ever known before. With Azriel by her side, she felt invincible, ready to face whatever challenges the future may hold.

But even as they basked in the glow of their newfound love, they knew that their time together was fleeting, that the realities of their world would soon come crashing back down upon them. Duty and responsibility beckoned, pulling them back into the harsh light of day where their love would remain a secret, hidden away from prying eyes.

Yet, for now, in the quiet sanctuary of Azriel's private room, they allowed themselves to simply be, to exist in this fragile moment of connection that bound them together in ways they could not yet comprehend.

And as they drifted off to sleep, their bodies entwined in a tangle of limbs and hearts beating as one, they knew that no matter what the future held, their love would endure, eternal and unbreakable, a beacon of hope in a world consumed by shadows.

Tagging some:

@callsign-magnolia

@kmc1989

@hardballoonlove

@senawashere

@hookslove1592

@marvel-molly

#acotar #fanfic #acotar imagine #sarah j maas #a court of thorns and roses #azriel x reader #azriel imagine #azriel #azriel smut #azriel shadowsinger

348 notes · View notes

ghouljams · 4 months

Note

Viking!Soap has consumed my entire being! Just imagining how unhinged he'd get if highland!reader got hurt or taken!!

Or or or! Him seeing her holding/caring for babies! They way he'd get sooo feral... 🥴

(Your writing > Me 🤰)

While the vikings aren't back home quite yet in the Soap story line, I did have an idea in my head and this is honestly the best ask to write it out in. Here's some of highland!reader being a healer and Soap being just... so dead over it

uuuuuh tw for descriptions of birth. I'm giving Gaz a baby.

Now this is a good use of your skills. You forget sometimes, that the vikings come from somewhere, that there must be people waiting on them, that they must have a home. This? You could never deny that Gaz is human after this. Not with the way he holds his wife's hand and frets over her as she grits her teeth and pushes. You know this, you've been midwife to enough of the people in your village to feel her dilation with your fingers, to cup the baby's head and ease its shoulders. You try to look reassuring as the mother sobs above you. That's what Gaz is for you suppose, he murmurs quiet affections to her, trying to keep her calm through the worst of it.

When the baby finally slips free and falls into your hands you can feel the relief that sobs through its mother. You're quick to dip your scissors in the boiled water nearby and snip the cord, tying it off with deft precision. You frown at the quiet infant, rub your fingers against its chest as Gaz comforts his wife. It scrunches its little face, opens its mouth on a silent cry and you turn it over to hit its little back hard. Then again, until it coughs and its cry finally pierces the air.

You sigh, and pass the baby off to be cleaned up by one of the mother's friends. "It's a boy," You tell the happy couple, taking their weary smiles as payment for a job well done. The only job you've ever done well.

The fire has burned low and the rest of the village has gone home to wait, but the 141 is vigilant. The crazy shepherd pops her head out of Gaz's house with good news after hours waiting. Soap lets out a breath and leans back to look at the rising sun. A new day for a new life.

He doesn't expect to see you holding the new wee one when they're actually allowed in. Sat next to the bed, fingers checking over the infant as your wrap and re-wrap its swaddle. His swaddle. Gaz said the baby was a boy.

You look tired, but you smile fondly down at the sleeping baby none the less. Again he finds himself staring at the rising sun, the warmth of you permeating every shallow corner of the room. The baby shift in its blankets and you shush it before it can start crying. Your fingers are so gentle as the skate over its little cheeks and nose. Every angle of you seems to gentle the infant, each soft touch to calm it. Soap's never seen anyone like you, never thought someone like you would step down from the realm of the gods to grace the earth.

Something warm melts over Soap's heart, the tender moment broken when you hand the baby back to his mother. Gaz and his wife laugh as Ghost and Price crowd close to give the congratulations, but Soap can't take his eyes off of you. He wants to see it again, wants to see you cradling an infant, looking content and proud.

Soap goes to stand next to you, brushes his fingers against your shoulder to try and catch some of the warmth breaking off of you. You stiffen and glare up at him. He takes his hand away, feels his fingers tighten, his smile hollow when he pastes it on. How differently would you look at him if it was his baby you cradled close to your chest? Would your gaze still cut into him like the bitter winds that carry snow down from the mountains? Would you soften for him, let him see the warmth in your eyes that now seems so far away? Would you look at him like you look at the baby?

As something human?

"Thank you," Gaz's wife give you a genuine smile, her eyes tired but shining with joy, "I know this isn't what you-"

"No," You stop her, the nordic tongue sounds so foreign to Soap's ears when it comes from your mouth, "I'm happy to help." Your accent is bad, it makes Soap smile a little fuller as he tries not to laugh. You seem to warm again watching the happy family. It's just him then.

Soap can see it when you give Gaz a weary smile, he's human in your eyes. He wonders what it would take to be granted the same honor. If you'd ever give him that, just that, he could live a lifetime on it.

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cannellee · 4 months

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HIII cannellee!! (♡ˊ͈ ꒳ ˋ͈) it’s 🍓 again!! i have another super cute abo idea, could we have the tr boys with a very clumsy but cute omega who has bruises all over her legs from bumping into objects because she keeps running into things like chairs or low tables… maybe how they react seeing injuries for the first time? or how they try to “steer her away from danger”? ty for reading, i hope you have a amazing christmas!!!!!! ( ˶˘ ³˘(⋆❛ ہ ❛⋆)!♡

TOKYO REVENGERS OMEGAVERSE ☆

alpha! tokyo rev x omega! reader

— their reactions to a cute and clumsy s/o (pairing : mikey, mitsuya, kazutora, chifuyu, izana, kaukucho, angry, baji)

my masterlist : ☆

I reaaally love this, it's so cute! I hope I did a good job, but I'm not really proud of this one sorry. I hope you had a great Christmas too thanks<3

ALPHA! MIKEY

upon noticing your bruises and bumps all over you, mikey gets immediately concerned and harbours a deep frown when he asks you about it.

his alpha instincts command him to make sure you're well and assess the situation to know what's wrong.

when you admit it's because of how clumsy you are, he's relieved it isn't anything more serious and finds it even endearing.

of course, his protective nature doesn't take long to kick in and he's paying even more attention to your surroundings.

rather than being upset about your lack of care, he's understanding and gently inquires why that is, so he can identify the issue behind your clumsiness.

now, when you're together, he offers you his support. whenever you fall and if he hasn't prevented that before, he'll be quick to help you up on your feet, pat your head to assure you it's okay and check your knees to look for any new bruises.

he'll tease you about it, but just to lighten up the mood and show you that he doesn't view your clumsiness as a source of frustration. it is made to make you feel comfortable around him.

ALPHA! MITSUYA

mitsuya is very observing, so he did noticed your tendency to fall and trip early on.

he won't mention it to you though, he'll provide a silent support and watch you carefully.

he'll offer to do certain tasks if he thinks it might harm you. if you need to reach something which is put high in a cupboard, he grabs you by the waist before you even finish climbing and gets it for you.

he tells you to rely on him, he's your alpha and he wants you to trust him and let him act like your partner.

when you're taking a walk, he takes your hand and gently guides you, replacing you so that you don't step into a bump on the road for example.

he does everything so that you don't have to injure yourself, but if it was to happen, his reaction is quick. he'll profusely scent you to prevent any stress or anxiety troubling you and will patch you up.

you'll end up cuddling with him inside your nest!

ALPHA! KAZUTORA

now kazutora is really worried.

what do you mean his omega is getting injured on a daily basis ?

when he first saw your bruised legs during summer, he felt an immense amount of anger.

kazutora is the type to act on impulse and in his head, those were the result of some bad people with malicious intentions towards his sweet omega.

he was furious and checked for more injuries, it was a hard task to calm him down and you thought it wouldn't be possible unless you gave him a couple of innocent names (that had nothing to do with the situation, he was just so sure you were a victim of crazy alphas).

luckily, upon smelling your calm pheromones, he figured you didn't lie to him out of fear and he eventually let his guard down.

now he's even more vigilant. it actually hurts him to know you're this clumsy and it troubles his mind.

he's the type to kiss your bruises though, and act overly reassuring and protective even when you don't actually need it.

ALPHA! CHIFUYU

although stressed at first, chifuyu is quick to approach the situation with a calming demeanor.

he's soo gentle with you, he'll rush to you each time you hurt yourself and shower you with his reassuring pheromones while making sure the cut on your finger isn't too deep.

if the fall was hard he asks you if you're okay, eyes full of care, telling you soothing words to drive away any distress.

chifuyu's touch is tender and he'll softly remind to be more careful whenever he's not here because he can't assist you.

he'll try his best to create a safe space for you : his omega can't get hurt if she's under chifuyu's watchful care!

if it was really serious, he will crack a joke to lighten up your mood and distract you from the pain.

he will offer you a comfortable place to sit afterwards ; if you're out, he's bringing you snacks from the shop next to you and if it was at your place, he's tucking you inside your nest. all the smells make you instantly relax!

ALPHA! ANGRY

angry is concerned.

once he learns you're this prone to injure yourself, it's over for you.

he was already worried sick about you going outside alone, as an omega you're often a target for other alphas and people who might know you're affiliated to him.

but now? now that he knows you don't even need to go outside to be at harm's length, he's constantly trying to check up on you.

now your dates consist of you both staying at your place, watching a movie inside your nest, cuddling and playing games, overall very calming activities.

angry might overdo it, but you need to understand that his instincts are shaking now knowing his omega is jeopardizing herself.

he carries band aids everywhere with him too.

ALPHA! KAKUCHO

he is prepared and reliable.

yes, you can hurt yourself alone, it happens, but it never does in his presence.

he's careful, even if he looks focused on something else, and will prevent anything from happening to you, from the tiniest cut to the most absurd fall.

if your clumsiness appears because of stress, you can be sure his scent is always enveloping you.

he tenderly kisses your forehead and praises you whenever you successfully stop yourself from falling.

he slowly kisses your bruises and healed scars with sweet patience, you absolutely love his kind nature.

you sometimes feel guilty for the way he seems genuinely upset and apologises for not being able to look after you better.

you tell him it's okay but he feels a sense of responsibility for his omega's wellbeing. he's committed and as your alpha he has to shield you from anything hurtful.

ALPHA! IZANA

he's devoted. he offers you his entire support and will do anything to keep you far from harm, even if you're the one bringing it to you.

he doesn't get mad nor annoyed, he just wants to make sure it won't happen again.

if you thought you weren't protected enough by him, expect an even more on edge izana. you're so important for him, he can't help the creeping worry he's feeling.

he now ensures that his physical presence is a constant source of protection. whether it's standing close or wrapping an arm around your waist, he establishes a boundary to both claim you and reassure you. it keeps you steady and he's there if you ever were to trip.

izana wants to have control over the situation and does his best to react accordingly to ensure your safety.

but he's still gentle and have a careful touch despite his alpha assertiveness.

if he didn't know you often bumped into furniture, you better tell him fast because he won't calm down as easily as kazutora.

izana won't believe you at first, and will definitely not tolerate anybody touching his precious omega. that's why he's a menace.

he tends to be overprotective, doing his job as your alpha a bit too well and literally preventing you to live normally.

he calls you regularly and checks for any new bruises everytime you meet up, he made you swear you would be more careful!

ALPHA! BAJI

the first time he noticed your bruises, his face was livid while he lifted your arm into his gentle hands.

he's terrifyingly calm and you know it would only take a name before he completely lashes out.

luckily he's a very great listener and really attentive. once you tell him about how you hit your elbow in a door, he gets reminded of all the times you tripped and easily connects the dots.

you're a very clumsy omega and you trigger his instincts like never before.

he softly nags you, praying you to be more careful while also being completely clueless as to why you're so uncoordinated with your movements.

why do you have to drop everything? and the most dangerous things at that?

you give him literal heart attacks.

but he'll joke about it so you never feel bad about that part of yourself. he will sometimes sweep you off your feet and carry you himself so you don't fall down. he will condemn any sharp items and challenge anybody who might make fun of you for it.

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tadpolesonalgae · 5 months

Text

Can’t Bring Myself To Hate You - Part 10[*]

Pairing: Azriel x Third-Oldest-Archeron-Sister!Reader

A/N: Well, buckle up I guess

Warnings: Plot™️, I know clocks are canon but it still feels weird to do this, starting heavy 💪

Word Count: 6,012

-Part 9- -Part 11-

He sighs.

It’s not like she can help the way she is. Not like she can help the fact that whenever she tries to make things better it simply creates more work for him to do. By receding into her room, he has to pay more attention to when she appears, becoming extra vigilant in the moments she steps outside.

He shouldn’t be so harsh. Sometimes fatigue clouds his judgement, enough so it becomes apparent to even himself sleep is a necessary luxury. Still, they’re harmless behaviours really. Small habits that with the right guidance will enable her to flourish again.

A broken bone that needs to be left to set, to be good as new.

6:57 p.m.

Azriel massages his temples, the beginning aches of a headache making themselves apparent. Eases in a breath, counts, and releases. It seems a night of rest is unavoidable, but there’s so much to be done. He could perhaps rearrange breakfast…but that would collide nastily with training. Maybe moving lunch to three instead? But then that would impact the start time of going though the towering stack of reports, which would in turn result in him working later anyway.

Thick brows narrow as he prowls silently down the hallway of the River House, deciding to leave for some peace and quiet. It’s not an idea he’s keen on, but if he dips out of practice with Cassian atop the House of Wind tomorrow…that would work. Frustration simmers in his knuckles, tightening the trapezius. He doesn’t like the idea of skipping over valuable training time with the priestesses. They’re forcing themselves out of their comfort zone. The least he can do is respect their resolve by attending.

He’s so caught up in thoughts of schedule and routine he only realises she’s in the River House, on the same floor, when she’s a single corridor away. Another thing he needs to keep an eye on. Swiftly reorganises his thoughts, rotating and recalling the information his shadows have provided over the recent days and hours. The scraps of speculations Mor had offered from a single outing. If he remembers correctly, she will have just gotten back from her trip with Mor now. So why is she here? She should be back up at the House by now, retreating to her room away from everyone else.

Still, he rounds the corner in time to see her click a door closed—her sister’s. His curiosity piques, shadows already recollecting the news they’ve catalogued for the female with soft, cocoa eyes. Gloves still adorn her hands, but it does nothing to conceal their tremor.

Attention narrows in on her, darkness skittering back into the corners of the hallway, hiding between his wings as he approaches. Her lips are chapped and tight, features strained as her gloved hand rests for a moment atop the handle. Appearing in her own world—eyes glazed and vacant. Her jaw is wound tighter than usual, tight enough he can hear the grinding of enamel, like bone and porcelain powdered against rock. Brows draw together at the notice of her waxen complexion, skin gleaming faintly with peaky dew.

Blank eyes flick up to meet his own, and he steps forward. Her hand stiffens on the handle, posture turning rigid. Scent taking on a tang he’s far too familiar with from nights spent with his blade. He comes to a stop, keeping his distance from her taut form.

Azriel’s first thoughts are she must be pushing too hard with her magic. Honestly, he hadn’t anticipated her to be so resolved in mastering her power independently. Neither had he anticipated her making a lick of progress. At least not through measures that a sensible mentor would allow.

He should never have yielded to her look of despair. She’d be safer if he had simply insisted on doing things correctly. A foolish mistake on his part, and now she might be going down the wrong path. “Are you okay?” He asks, splitting his weight equally between each foot, resting in his place. Watches the roll of her throat, shifting in place, away from Elain’s door. Had there been an argument?

She nods her head, trying to straighten her spine as she sometimes does when pulling herself together. The effect is nullified by the was she hangs her head, never quite succeeding in meeting his eye for extended periods. He shouldn’t have ignored it for so long. Leaving something like that unchecked… Well, he should have known better.

“I’m—” She clears her throat, and tries again. “Good. I’m fine.” Nods to herself, eyeing the floorboards with bland eyes. He waits quietly, allowing the silence to coax her into unravelling. She shifts again, stepping away from Elain’s door, her gaze flitting about the corridor. Flicks to the stairs behind him, leading down to the exit—likely wanting to return to her haven up in the House by now.

Eyes regain a little focus, pupils contracting as a nervous smile quirks her mouth, nodding to the door as she makes for the stairs. “We were just speaking,” she elaborates, moving away hastily. “Catching up.”

Azriel watches, noting the briskness of her steps. It’s unusual for her to be so keen to leave his presence. What had happened?

“Wait,” he says, turning as she makes to move past him, peering at the floor, marking her steps. She pauses, gloved hand resting on the carved and polished banister. He steps forward, morbidly intrigued by the glaze in her eyes, as if made of glass. “You aren’t well,” he states. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m fine,” you repeat blandly, “just tired.”

Something bad then, if she’s not willing to even discuss whatever exchange happened with Elain.

Shadows loiter at the threshold, waiting to hear for any sounds that might offer hints, like the soft breath of cries, or the gentle splash of muffled tears. Nothing.

She turns again, descending the stairs, sweeping down the case quietly as she makes a bee-line for the door, vanishing out into the dark, leaving him perplexed and curious. A dangerous combination for the Spymaster.

She’d looked shaken up, so he should make sure things are okay.

It’s been a long while since he last had a one-on-one conversation with the soft-eyed female.

Azriel turns in the hallway, moving back the way she’d come.

8:36 a.m.

“We should talk.”

His words pull you from the world of bliss that had been graciously clouding your mind. Peer down at him from where you’re straddling his lap, pale sheets crumpled, clothes strewn about from being swiftly discarded. “About what?”

Thick, dark brows narrow over piercing golden eyes, full lips twisting down in the corners. Your own features shift to match his, “now, Bas?”

He sighs, large, warm hands splaying across the bruised skin of your hips. “I know, I know, I suck at timing. No need to tell me.” Almost immediately the edges of your lips lift up, a smile tugging at your mouth, vanquishing the momentary surge of annoyance. Fingers lightly press into the softness of his chest, spine losing its rigidity, relaxing your weight back onto him. Feeling slightly dizzy as pleasure sinks into your bones.

“Fine,” you mutter, playfully, “what is it?”

Bas shifts beneath you, thumbs soothing your skin, your back arching as you attempt to still the swirl of your hips. “Two things, actually,” he clarifies reaching higher, a reassuring pressure over your ribcage, rubbing to your waist. Peek down at him, raising a brow, “I wondered why you weren’t giving me a hard time tonight,” —shake your head, smiling slightly— “I should have known.”

He offers a tight smile and your own slips away. “Now you’re worrying me,” you murmur quietly, fingers curling. “What is it?” Golden eyes meet your own, concern shining in their depths, “you’ve been off recently. And I’m worried. So, it’s fine to be emotionally intimate too… Yeah?”

You blink, lips parting in surprise. “I’ve been…off?” Brow furrows in confusion, “what do you mean by that? Am I doing something wrong?” It’s an earnest question, yet it resonates a little deeper than you had expected. Thankfully he doesn’t pick up on the inner conflict. “It’s not that,” he reassures, hands stroking slowly, lightly. “But you’ve worn the same dress the last three times I’ve seen you.”

Internally, you cringe, making to pull away. “Do I smell?” You ask, wincing, bringing your arms to your chest. A slight smile tugs at his lips then, “no.” Relax a little, hands twining as he brings them back to his torso. “But…you taking care of yourself up there?” Sigh, shoulders losing their tension, lips resting into a quirked position.

“I’m fine, Bas. I like it up there, where it’s quiet, and—”

“No.” He interjects gently, hand slipping from yours, pushing a strand of hair from your cheek. Lightly cups your jaw, thumb skimming across the skin. “I mean up there.”

Spine stiffens, fingers freezing. Breath pauses. “Everything’s fine,” you murmur, watching him. He gives a look that urges you to stop lying, squeezing your hands. “Talk to me,” he says in response. “Something’s up. I can tell.”

“Bas—”

“Don’t even try,” he murmurs, golden eyes shimmering as he peers up at you. “I know what that feels like,” he whispers, hand raising to skim your breast, thumb brushing atop your heart. “I know change is difficult.”

“Bas, I don’t want to talk about it.”

Eyes lock, staring at one another.

His hand falls away.

Muscle loosens.

Licks his lips, gaze flitting elsewhere. “I was lonely too, when the attack happened.” Spine softens, brows tightening. Wait silently for him to continue. Licks his lips again, returning to watch you. “Ma… It was hard on both of us, losing pa. Y’know one day he was there, then the next it’s just us.” His throat rolls, eyes glazing as he looks into the middle distance. “We had our own ways of dealing with it—the loss. Mother knows I can’t talk about healthy coping mechanisms, I practically fucked anything that would let me. Probably drank more than I should have, too.”

The attack.

You and your sisters hadn’t yet come here, still mortally human and wonderfully unaware. Well, you and Elain, anyway. Even now, there were still signs of the aftermath. Traces of grief that had yet to be healed.

He shakes his head slowly, limbs turning stiff. “It got… I know what it’s like.” Golden eyes latch to your own. “So talk to me. Don’t keep that—…stuff, to yourself.” Shake your head, breaking the connection, pulling away. “There’s nothing to talk about. Stop prying.” Shake off the heaviness, easing a breath. “What else did you want to talk about?”

His expression is indiscernible, brows dipped, lips tugged down, eyes swirling with molten gold. Shifts beneath you, your hands pressing to his chest to steady yourself as he raises into a sitting position. Moving to be eye-to-eye, hands spanning your waist, gently keeping you still. Fingers brush the concealed muscle of his shoulders, linking at his back, hips winding in gentle encouragement.

A rough-skinned palm settles on the nape of your neck, sliding and gripping your hair lightly. Thumb oscillates over your waist. Calling up loneliness from the pit of your chest. Lips brush your mouth, the slightest caress of hot skin that feels like heated silk and tastes like spices and thyme. He looks like he’s about to try again, but decides against it, instead pulling you forward.

Only you’re taken to the crook of his shoulder, palm cupping the back of your head. His free arm snakes up your back, cradling you to his chest. Keeping you close by. At first you’re stiff, unsure how to react, muscle locks as his skin presses hot to your own, smooth and soft. Warm hands soothe along your spine, gently skimming across the expanse, tracing the knuckles of bone. Fingers draw light patterns atop, oscillating and sketching with reassuring steadiness.

He makes no move to kiss you, just holding you still, the thick locs of his hair scratching softly against the nape of your neck. His arm spans across the back of your waist, hand flattening against your side, thumbing over the skin, soothing you to melt.

Your bones begin to feel heavy in your body, sinking low as you hesitantly raise your arms to lock over his sturdy shoulders, tentatively shuffling to rest your cheek against him. Inhale slowly, deeply, taking in his scent—like rosemary and myrrh. He settles across your skin, and you sink deeper, emotion thawing as you melt into his arms, so tender and soft. Healing and welcoming.

Wet drops splash atop his shoulders, dripping onto dark skin as arms pull a little tighter, squeezing as lips tremble. Spine shudders, soft breaths stuttering as tears trickle down your cheeks, wetting strands of hair as fingers grip closer. Full lips graze your temple, and you feel those small cracks that had emerged during your argument with Feyre begin to spiderweb out, restraint fracturing just a little more.

Lower lip wobbles, and you curl around him tighter, body shuddering with quiet sobs as he holds you. Dry hands wrap into fists, nails biting the flesh of your arms as you fall into him, wanting to be washed away.

To peacefully melt to a place far from memory.

Slowly fade into absence.

2:43 p.m.

The iron-cast ring weighs on your palm, the glittering blue jewel of its swollen abdomen gazing up at you like silver moonlight dripping to dark, gleaming midnight. Polished and sharp like armour and blade.

“Do you like it?” Mor asks from your side, peering over your shoulder. You’d heard her footsteps that time, but shake your head absently, putting the ring back where it belongs. “It’s a lovely piece of jewellery,” you hedge, not wanting to talk badly when the shopkeepers are around. Spiders are still a little too close to home—insects at all, really.

She hums quietly, attention skimming to a piece beside it: a silver band fashioned to the stalk of a flower, the petals looking like stretched out droplets of warm citrine. Mor examines it for a moment, then holds it out for you to look at, which you do. “What about this one?” Fingers mindlessly come up to fumble with the glass pendant at your neck, steadily becoming a habit. “It’s very pretty,” you answer, hoping it suffices. Mor hums again, seemingly getting the hint, returning it to sit on the counter.

“You liked the dress, didn’t you?” She asks, quietly. Brows dip together as you turn in her direction, cascading golden hair loosely tied back. “I mean you wanted it. Not just because I was pushing you to get something.” A beat of quiet passes, and you examine her expression: the edges of plush and pillowy lips lengthened by slight worry lines, brow marginally dipped in the centre. Minute shifts in features that would have gone undetected by human eyes.

Throat rolls as you look away, but nod. “I did like it,” you mumble, fumbling your words, “do like it. Thank you.”

“Have you worn it yet?” She asks. Dread ices your skin, eyes flitting to honey warm irises. “I— No…” you manage honestly. Look away, scanning the jewels, that blue spider again catching your attention. “It’s a special dress,” you murmur, “I was waiting for a special occasion.”

More quiet beats between you, background chatter buzzing through your mind. But then she nods, accepting your answer. “It looks nice on you,” she replies, picking up a necklace this time—a thin chain of gold that shimmers beneath the daylight streaming in from the windows. Dip your head in silent thanks.

Peer out into the streets, watching fae pass by, enjoying their lives. Spots of colour splashing along as they go about their day. Eyes mark a small shop across the road, stools holding little trinkets like cups and pottery spilling out onto the cobbles, ceramics gleaming beneath the lowering sun. Plants sway in the crisp breeze outside, the nippy winds of early autumn already setting in.

Ease in a steady breath—there’s less than a week left until you’re due to complete your side of the agreement, and only small bits and pieces of progress to show. Not enough to avoid bringing it up to the rest of them.

Glance at Mor from the corner of your eye, watching through your peripherals as she holds up a necklace to herself, peering into a mirror. How would she react if you told her right now? She’d probably smile and tell you that’s great. Maybe ask you to show her or give a demonstration. The breath releases, knowing that question will crop up eventually. Seeking results when you have none to provide.

“Are you coming to dinner tonight?” She asks breaking you out of your wondering. Blink, pulling yourself back down, having forgotten about the extra supper they’d decided to fit in. Shake your head, turning your attention back to the jewellery stand, then flitting out to the shop. “I’m feeling pretty tired,” you reply quietly, “so I don’t think so.”

“Sure?” She says absently, already having moved onto the next stand. “The food’s really great—pork that practically comes part on your tongue. And the jam that goes with it is absolutely mouth-watering,” she dreams, smiling faintly as her fingers scrunch with anticipation. Your nose wrinkles for a split-second before you shut off the reaction, offering a bland smile, “how lovely.”

“You must try it at some point,” she gushes, turning to you now, accessories forgotten. “It’s one of my favourite places in Velaris. All the dishes they serve are,” —her hand flexes, as if trying to grasp onto something, eyes briefly shutting in bliss— “amazing.”

You smile again. “I’m sure.”

Warm-honey eyes narrow on you, examining the set of your expression. “You liked the soup,” she says, “what else do you like?” Throat rolls and you shift on your feet, fumbling. “Mash?” Mor nods slowly, remaining silent; in doing so forcing you to speak, too awkward to allow it to continue. “With thyme… Beans are nice, too?” She continues her bout of silence, quietly watching you. “The rice and…sauce. That’s been nice. Very nice.”

Her brows squish together, tension coiling in your stomach and shoulders. Lick your lips. “The—…” You pause, not knowing the name of the food. “The doughy balls? With…mushroom? in the middle? With—”

Eyes pop open. “You don’t eat meat.”

“I eat meat,” you say, hurriedly, but she’s in her own world.

“That’s why Az—” Her hand smacks up onto her forehead and you internally cringe—was the coddling that noticeable? To everyone but you?

“Why didn’t you say anything?” She asks, a mix of shock and exasperation lining her tone as she stares at you. Throat rolls and you turn away from her, picking up the silver band with the citrine-coloured flower. “I can eat meat just fine,” you mutter quietly, “it’s not as though there was anything else.”

“There was the soup,” she argues, still facing you, “you could have asked me to pass it to you—I even had some for myself.”

“No, I mean—” —eyes lock, her brows risen in confusion, not accusation. You sigh, shaking your head. “Sorry. Forget I said anything…” Her neatly groomed brows dip, head tilting ever so slightly. “No, what were you going to say?” She asks, voice quietening. Glance at her sidelong, fiddling with the ring in your hand, sliding it on and off your gloved little finger—far too large for it to possibly get stuck on. Lick your lips, spinning the band as you fidget. “I just mean, it’s basically all we ate back then,” you mumble, peering at your feet with forced interest. “Just brings back some bad memories, is all. Nothing I can’t deal with.”

She sighs softly, and guilt tightens your stomach, putting the now-warm ring down, listening to it clink on the glass. “You don’t like meat,” she states. It’s not a question.

“I can eat it,” you counter quietly, not wanting to be a bother. You’ve seen how much the others enjoy it. “But you wouldn’t choose it,” she returns, keeping her body open as she faces you. Shift on your feet, “I… No.”

Mor nods, hair glinting like freshly spun straw beneath a summer day. “Then we can eat somewhere else. Or order different dishes,” she reasons smoothly, “I’ll just mention it to the others since none of us even knew. Well, I suppose Az—”

“Please don’t,” you interrupt, cringing internally. “It’s fine. Meat’s good for you and I shouldn’t be so picky anyway. It’s annoying.”

“To who?” She asks, making you glance at her. “Who does it annoy?” She repeats, seemingly earnestly. “It’s silly to switch restaurants just because of…because of something so small. I can eat when I get back, anyway. It’s fine.”

She looks appalled.

“Mor, please don’t say anything,” you repeat quietly, meeting her eyes, a pained look unknowingly on your features. “I’m fine with how things are. Don’t make a big deal out of it.” Her brow narrows, eyes flicking around the shop, taking in the other customers. “None of us would mind,” she says quietly. “You wouldn’t be causing a problem. We’ll just order more dishes without meat. We don’t have to change places if nobody wants to.”

But you shake your head adamantly. “I can eat when I get home. Please don’t change what you order just because—”

“Why don’t you deserve to eat food you like?” She asks sharply, voice remaining quiet but harsh. Blink at the tone, stiffening briefly before tension uncoils from your muscles. “It’s not like that,” you reply, turning from the display, slowly stepping toward the door. Mor follows beside you, appearing to have lost interest in the surrounding trinkets.

“No?” She asks, glancing at you through her peripherals. “What’s it like, then?”

You pause in the street, feet halting their movement as the question registers. She halts at your side, slowing to a stop, attention turned to you. “Mor, I don’t know how I could possibly put into words…” A heavy sigh escapes from you, shoulders sloping, exhaustion lining your eyes. “Never mind. Forget it.” Spine straightens, continuing heavily across the street to the shop with the little carvings and pieces of glazed pottery.

She follows quietly as you wander toward the stalls, inspecting the bits and bobs on display. Watches you quietly, taking in the ankle-length dress, clunky boots, thick cardigan and scarf. The vomit-yellow gloves. She should at least find another pair with a lighter colour for you. “You know,” she begins softly, a hint of a smile in her tone, “for someone so reserved, I didn’t expect you to be so stubborn.”

Fingers freeze for a moment, reaching out toward a small carving of a woman holding some drooping daisies. Breath catches, before you manage to resume motion, picking up the small figurine. “Sorry,” you mumble, “I don’t mean to be.”

“That’s not a bad thing,” she murmurs. “You’re strong willed. It’ll serve you well.”

But you shake your head in denial. “Feyre’s strong willed. So is Nesta.”

“Do you think Elain is?” Mor asks, holding up a glazed mug she clearly has no interest in. Your brow dips, peering at her, not having anticipated the change of direction. “Why are you asking?”

“She’s been quiet, no?”

Turn your attention back to the woman in your hand, flipping her over to peer at the lines of her dress—swaying in a breeze. I wonder why… You think sardonically. Instead a hum lulls from your mouth, non-committal and vague. Mor nods her head, again picking up those minute hints you’re unaware you’re even capable of dropping.

“That’s a nice carving,” she says brightly, redirecting the conversation without a hitch, smooth fluidity long ago mastered. “Your father was a carpenter, wasn’t he?” She asks softly. “Would you like it?”

Gloved fingers rub the concealed skin of your other hand, knuckles itching for reprieve. Under ordinary circumstances, you would have declined the offer— it looks well carved. Not that you have an eye for such things. This time, however, you can make an exception. “That would be nice,” you answer quietly, “thank you.”

Swallow down the apology that had been slowly making it’s way up from your stomach.

She smiles then, and you look away.

She’s far too bright.

6:49 p.m.

You excuse yourself as soon as you step inside, heading up the stairs and along the hallway before returning to the House of Wind. Walk quietly along the floorboards, hoping to avoid any unnecessary confrontations. Reach the door you’re looking for, landing a series of knocks to the hardwood. “Elain?” You call, listening for a reply. She answers, letting you to come in, voice soft but terse.

The door swings open on oiled hinges, and you step inside, hearing it snick shut at your back. Eyes instantly locate your sister, sat in a large armchair facing the lit fireplace. Curtains are drawn, blocking out what little light remained in the sky, room set aglow with the golden-orange of flame. Cocoa melts to something soft and spicy as she peers into it, and you wonder if she’s perhaps missing Lucien.

“Hey,” you mumble quietly, noting how she seems kind of distant. You can’t help but be reminded of those initial months, the transitional stages of your lives where the world was turned upside down. How she’d shut down almost entirely, rarely speaking. Rarer still to get anything coherent, like she was trapped in a dream state. “I just…I wanted to see you,” you murmur, moving toward her.

Haunted eyes flick up to meet you, blank as they take you in with ghostly smoothness. She blinks and it’s gone, gesturing to a seat opposite from her, closer to the fire but angled for prime conversation. A smile lifts the edges of her mouth, etched with strain, chest stretching as you take in her fatigue.

Sigh heavily, settling into the plush armchair, remaining straight-backed as you put the paper bag at your feet, careful with the little carving. Wait for a beat to pass before looking to her, cocoa already reattached to the fire. “Elain,” you call quietly, gaining her attention. In the light of the flame the circles beneath her eyes are more pronounced, shadow flickering across the heavy crescents. Worry takes root in your gut—it seems to be taking more of a tole on her than you’d thought.

“You went out with Mor today didn’t you?” Elain asks, voice soft and faint, as if coming out of a daze. A shy smile curves your lips, nodding. “How was it?” She asks distantly, gently curled hair hanging in rich ringlets, tight and silky as they spill down the lilac night gown she likes. Throat rolls, turning your attention to the fire. Will this ever be an easy subject between the two of you? Between any of you?

Eyes flit down to the bag, pulling it up into your lap for comfort. “It was good,” you manage softly, nodding. “It was…nice. To be outside. Around someone, for a little.” Elain nods, a bland smile on her face, though you don’t doubt its sincerity. “I—…Mor’s nice,” you add, fumbling your words as you try to direct the flow of the conversation toward what you’re trying to get at. But you’ve never been good at reading the room, and it’s showing.

“You should…I mean, it would be nice for you to come along sometime…” you suggest, trailing off as fingers wring together in your lap, playing with the paper handle of the bag. “We could…I don’t know…” Shift in the chair as you try to think of something. “I’m sure there are some shops for gardening, or somewhere to sample pastries? You’re trying out pastries at the moment, aren’t you?” Eyes flit to your sister, the smile gone from her lips, lids heavy as she soaks in the heat of the fire. Letting it drink her in.

She’s quiet, and it’s obvious something’s off. Or is she just tired? She’d told you she’d been sleeping badly recently, has it not yet gotten better? Run your attention over her supple form, smooth skin over tight knuckles, the lilac of the fabric complimenting her drained complexion, dark circles beneath her eyes making the rich coca of her irises deeper, swirling with thought. They flick to you suddenly, shadow being cast across her delicate features as she turns, as if about to speak.

You look down into your lap abruptly, staring at the little carving. “I miss dad,” you blurt out quietly, the words being hauled up your throat, spat out into the air.

Elain stiffens in your peripherals, and your lips press together tight. Heart heavies, shoulders no longer being held taut as you begin to drown into the cushion. “I know…” you begin quietly, thoughts eddying away once you try to grasp for them. Just stare at the maiden holding the drooping daisies. “I was thinking about him,” you say quietly, managing to keep your voice somewhat even. “Earlier, when I was out with Mor,” you clarify, reaching into the bag.

Push the paper apart, reaching for the female figurine. Fingers brush the smooth wood of the carved figure, the pads able to sense the very grain with heightened nerve endings. She’s hewn from a darker material, deep brown and riddled with smooth and polished knots, creating a labyrinthine twist of swirling lines and wrinkles. It was probably once a beautiful piece of trunk, carried from a forest to a carpenters shop, whittled away until the figure emerged.

“I want to speak with you.”

You look up, hand stilling, fingers grasping the carving. Maybe…you’ve learned in the past it’s better to let someone else lead the conversation. Yours don’t seem to go anywhere unless the other is interested in a continuation.

“Okay,” you murmur, releasing the statue, pulling free as you return the bag to your feet, set aside so you can deliver her your full attention. “What is it?”

Elain blinks slowly, and hairs rise on the back of your neck.

“Elain?” You encourage, no more than a whisper.

For a long moment she won’t speak, just watching intently, as if she can see through you and is examining the sub-atomic structure of your soul, down to the bits and bobs between. Stiffen as cocoa bores into you, looking far older than should be possible as the flame flickers dully in muted brown. Throat rolls, trying to maintain the connection, letting her know you’re there. She’s been around for you; it’s the least you can do.

The contact breaks, her lids closing briefly, gaze returning to quietly observe the fire. Taking in its motion—how the heat wells, practically rolling from the hearth to the rugged floorboards. “There’s been something…” Elegant brows dip almost imperceptibly, the edges of her delicate mouth quivering, lips parted on a syllable. Close again, as if the words won’t suffice for what she’s trying to say. The fire almost seems to match her, growing more intense as she stares into it, shadows darkening as they writhe across the walls, like the wings of a great creature.

“I haven’t been sleeping well,” she murmurs absently.

Worry sparks across your chest but you say nothing, allowing her to articulate her thoughts at the pace she wishes.

Cocoa returns to you, the colour of conkers—you can picture them sitting cozily among the branches of a dense forest, perfectly in place. “I need you to be calm,” she says firmly. “Can you do that for me?” Brow narrows in confusion, attention fading form your body as it’s directed to your older sister, posture lithe but firm. Sitting with the preternatural stillness of the fae, and something more… Something beyond what even…

You nod—as if your voice might break whatever she’s fallen into. Might cause a change in mind, your chance to comfort her lost. She stares for a moment longer, quiet and observing. An unwelcome itch builds beneath your knuckles, but you push it away, attention solely on your older sister. Her pupils seem to be the wrong size, as if you’re something far off in the distance that she’s struggling to focus on. Her posture relaxes, silently settling into the depth of her armchair, as if it might hold her together.

“Sleep has been difficult as of late,” she murmurs, eyes locked to yours and you find yourself unable to look away. She keeps herself still; poised; refined. Even in the undress of her lilac night robe, she’s collected, but there’s something off tonight. You nod in understanding—sleeping can be difficult. Especially after the war.

“Have you been taking care of yourself?” The question pulls from your lips before it’s fully formed in your mind. A faint smile sharpens her mouth—hairs prickling at the nape of your neck. Cocoa blinks, and the sharpness has faded, settling into the familiar gentle curve that makes Elain herself. “I’m perfectly fine,” she replies quietly, though her voice is strained. Eyes again run over you, weighing. Again you keep still, enduring the assessment.

Tongue peeks out to wet her lips, shadows flickering across her face as she shifts in her seat. “I’ve been trying some different tonics,” she admits quietly. “Chamomile, root ginger, valerian…they work fine, and I end up falling asleep swiftly.”

A dull wave of relief washes through your system, like a cool balm to desiccated skin. “I’m glad, ‘Lain,” you say softly, happy she’s found a remedy. But Elain shakes her head solemnly, shadows growing darker, weighing beneath her eyes. “It’s not…I’m not struggling with sleep,” she whispers, as if the walls are sitting in on the conversation. Eyes flit about, and your brows narrow. She’s being shifty. “Maybe we should have this conversation in your room,” she murmurs to herself, fingers massaging her temples.

“Elain…” you interject quietly, worry lacing your tone, “are you okay?” Eyes flick to you, heavy with gravity. “I told you, I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?” You press gently. Could she have been sold another kind of herb? “You don’t seem fine…” She waves her hand dismissively, as if physically able to bat the thought away. She exhales heavily, staring again into the fire. Deep into the flames, like she can see to the other side.

“Chamomile, valerian, send me to sleep fine. It’s just not—” She cuts off, searching for the word. “They don’t send me deep enough,” she murmurs, a slight tremor in her voice. “What do you mean?” You ask, shifting toward her in your seat. Eyes snap to you with the movement, brows curving in a look of…

Fear.

You pull back, comprehending. Lean forward, on the verge of standing to cross the room to be at her side again. Like you were for those initial months. “Elain, what’s wrong?” You repeat, anxious to assuage her anxiety however you can.

“They’re back,” she whispers hoarsely. Fingers tremble in her lap, lightly gripping the lilac of her skirts to calm herself. “It’s the same thing again and again,” she manages, staring at you from across the hearth. “I see you at the edge of a forest with the wolves, traveling with the fox, ending with the…” She shakes her head. Steadying her breathing. Calming her nerves.

“There’s a flash of light—light like starfall, except it itches. Itches and burns. And then he’s down, and bleeding, and—”

“Elain, slow down,” you interrupt, standing from your seat as you hurry to her side, fingers linking with her own to soothe the trembles. Crouch before her, clasping her hands in you own gloved ones. “I don’t understand,” you say, staring up at her. “What are you talking about?”

Cocoa drains, dark and haunted.

“They’re back,” she whispers. “The visions.”

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