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serpentandlily · 6 months

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Untouchable VI - Azriel x Reader

Untouchable - Azriel x Rhysand'sSister!Reader

Summary: For as long as you can remember, you have always had feelings for Azriel, your court’s spymaster. But after centuries of watching him pine after your own cousin, hoping he’d eventually move on, your wish came true. He moved on—with Elain, your brother’s mate’s sister. Unable to watch him fall in love with someone else again, you flee from Velaris, from him. But things are a lot more complicated than that—more complicated than you ever imagined.

Warnings: Smut (minors dni pls), angst

a/n: Once again, thank you for all the love you've given me on this series!! Your comments seriously make my day! Hope you enjoy this one! I think there will be maybe 9-10 parts total for this story, maybe 8 but we'll see. Thanks for reading! <3

➻❥ Part I ➻❥ Part II ➻❥ Part III ➻❥ Part IV ➻❥ Part V

➻❥ Part VI ➻❥ Part VII ➻❥ Part VIII ➻❥ Part IX ➻❥ Part X

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Part VI

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

You weren’t sure how long the two of you stayed like that—knelt on the hardwood floor, staring at each other. Azriel’s eyes were filled with such longing, it seemed like he was trying to will the mating bond to snap between the two of you, to free you both from the torture of his bargain. But…

Nothing.

A small tear escaped from the corner of your eye. All this time you had both longed for each other. Desired, craved, hungered after each other. And it had been your own brother standing in the way, creating the rift between the two of you.

One of Azriel’s shadows swirled away from him, a small tendril of darkness, and brushed against the side of your cheek, wiping your tears away. You smiled sadly at the cool touch of his shadows, imagining it was his own hand instead.

Another tendril brushed against your arm in a soothing motion.

You watched them for a moment, swirling around your skin. When you looked back up at Azriel something in his gaze had shifted.

He stood finally, holding out a hand to help you from the floor. You raised your eyebrows in question as he stared down at you with an intensity that had your cheeks turning pink again.

The stray shadow brushed against your cheek again, then down your jaw to your throat. You shivered at the feeling and Azriel’s gaze darkened, a new hunger in them that had the butterflies in your stomach returning.

Azriel stepped closer and wrapped a piece of your hair around his finger. “I just realized something.”

“What is it?” you breathed out.

His face was half lit by the faelights as he stared down at you, still playing with your strand of hair.

“I might not be able to touch you,” he whispered. “But my shadows can.”

“Huh? What do—”

Azriel hushed you, turning you around to face the mirror on your vanity instead. You stared at him through the mirror in question, but his eyes were roaming your body instead.

He brushed your hair over to one shoulder and pressed a soft, gentle kiss to the now exposed skin before standing up to his full height, making you feel so small in comparison.

His eyes met your own and your heart jumped in your chest. Azriel’s hand ghosted up your arm, hovering over your shoulder as he stared at you intently as he ran a finger under the thin strap of your nightgown. Your skin prickled under his touch.

His pupils were blown-out, his once hazel eyes now almost black, as he stared at you with a look that had your thighs clenching together.

Your breath hitched as he began to push down the strap of your nightgown.

"A-Azriel?"

You tilted your head back to look at him but he grabbed your chin with his other hand and directed your attention back to the mirror.

"Watch," he commanded, his voice dangerously low.

It was a thrilling sight, the two of you together. The dimmed faelights in the room bounced off his brown skin, turning him golden and made your violet eyes glow.

He was the neverending night, the shadow always lurking even during the day, the embodiment of the dark side of the moon. And you were his night-blooming flower, made for his gaze.

A shiver ran through you as the strap fell down your arm. The other one followed not even a second later. The silk of your nightgown brushed against the pebbled tips of your breasts before it pooled on the ground, leaving you nearly bare in front of the shadowsinger.

Azriel let out an inhuman growl at the sight of your breasts, his hands fisting at his sides as you watched him restrain himself from touching you. Heat was pooling in your core. You needed him to touch you, needed some relief from the pounding inside of you that begged for him.

Azriel's shadows cascaded over your shoulders, one swirling away to brush against your jaw, as the others made a path to your bare breasts. Your breath hitched, your back arched, as they lightly brushed against your skin, twirling around each nipple.

You gasped as some broke away to travel down your stomach, to circle around your thighs. The shadows applied more pressure to your breasts and you bit your lip, closing your eyes as you tried to imagine Azriel touching you instead.

Azriel's hand wrapped around your waist, laying flat against your stomach as he yanked you back into his hard chest. You could feel his arousal pressing against your ass causing your heart to spike.

"I told you to watch, Princess,” he purred into your ear.

You whimpered, your eyes flying open to stare at him through the mirror before they lowered to your own body, watching as his shadows spun around you, touching you in the places he had been forbidden to.

A stray shadow stroked against your clothed center, drawing a moan from your lips. Your legs were shaking now, goosebumps covering your skin. You couldn't help but rub against his hardened length, whimpering again.

Azriel let out a grunt that sounded like a mixture of both pleasure and pain, his fingers digging into the skin on your stomach. His hand slipped down to finger the waistband of your lace underwear. He made eye contact with you again. You bit your lip and nodded, knowing what he was asking.

He slowly began to push your underwear down your thighs until it fell to the floor along with your nightgown, leaving you completely naked in front of him. Azriel groaned at the sight.

“Gods, you are so beautiful,” he murmured. Your cheeks heated as he hungrily soaked in the sight of your naked body, feeling vulnerable being so bare in front of him while he was still clothed.

His shadows swooped in the moment you were unclothed, their cool touch sending fire roaring through your veins. Your chest was heaving up and down with your heavy breaths, the butterflies in your stomach going wild.

"Azriel," you begged. "Please."

You weren't even sure what you were begging for. But gods, you needed him. Needing him to do something about the ache between your legs, the burning hot desire coursing through you.

“Please what, Princess?”

His voice made another shiver run through your body. So dark and sensual, just like the shadows roaming over your entire body.

Tendrils of his shadows crawled up your legs, brushing against your pulsing core and causing you to gasp as a wave of pleasure hit you.

“I need…” Another gasp as his shadow brushed against your clit. “Gods, Azriel, I need…”

You couldn’t even put it into words, your mind empty because of the pulsating feeling creeping inside of you.

Azriel’s fingers ghosted over your cheek. “I know, princess.”

You moaned as his shadows continued their assault, stroking your core, circling around that sweet bundle of nerves. You trembled beneath their touch.

He pressed another kiss to your bare shoulder before lifting you into his arms and taking you to the bed. He laid you down gently, so softly as if you were the most precious thing in the world to him.

He stood at the end of the bed, his eyes raking in the sight of you flushed with pleasure and laid bare before him. “Gods, what I wouldn’t give to touch you right now,” Azriel mumbled.

You wished more than anything that he could. You needed him.

More shadows cascaded down his body and fluttered to you, encasing you in swirls of darkness. Your arms were yanked above your head, your wrists pinned down to the mattress by his shadows. You whimpered as his shadows swept over your breasts again, your stomach, your thighs.

Azriel reached forward to spread your legs apart, a groan leaving his lips at the sight of your glistening center. His hands left you far too quickly and you bit your lip, staring at him. His wings were spread wide, his hair tousled against his forehead, his gaze dark. He was straining against his pants, his own hand palming his dick to ease the pressure.

His shadows skimmed your thighs and hip bones until they met together at your core, stroking against your clit and your entrance. You writhed, still encased by his other shadows, and mewled at the touch of his shadow hands.

“Fuck, Princess,” Azriel growled as he watched the shadows he controlled continue their assault on you. He quickly undid the ties to his pants, pushing them down and pulling his dick free and standing between your legs. He stroked himself as he watched his shadows ravish your body.

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head at the sight of how large he was, at the image in your mind of him fucking you.

“Keep your eyes open,” Azriel ordered, his voice filled with a dominance that only further increased the fire inside of you. “I want you to look at me while I make you cry.”

Your eyes shot open, meeting his feral gaze. You groaned at the sight of him touching himself to the image of his shadows ravaging your body. The pleasure was almost unbearable and you could feel your orgasm building quickly as his shadows swirled around your clit, teased your entrance, over and over again.

“Faster,” he commanded his shadows, who were all too happy to oblige, as he fisted his cock.

Your eyes trailed over Azriel, over his beautiful, devastating face, the muscles in his arms clenching as he stroked himself, his huge wings twitching. He looked like a fallen angel standing before you as he used his shadows to push you further and further to the edge.

“You couldn’t even imagine the things I wish to do to you, Princess,” he groaned as you continued to wither on the bed, moaning in a pool of his shadows. “How I would ruin you, make you forget your own name.”

“Azriel,” you mewled. “Please, I…don’t stop.”

You arched off the bed. Your skin was on fire. Each stroke of his shadows over your breasts, thighs, down your center, around your clit. It was too much. You were falling.

“Fuck. That’s it, Princess,” he grunted, his own hand moving faster. “Let my shadows make you come for me.”

His words pushed you over the edge, your vision nearly going white, as wave after wave of pleasure crashed through your body. You mumbled his name over and over again as lightning shot through your body. Your back arched off the bed, your arms strained against the shadows holding you down.

And then you went limp, panting as you came down from your high. Azriel was cursing under his breath, stroking himself faster and faster, his gaze on your dripping core. You sat up, still breathing heavily. You wanted nothing more than to touch him, to make him come. But you couldn’t. Not without causing him pain.

But you had your own arsenal of powers, you realized.

“Close your eyes, Azriel,” you purred. He met your gaze, the absolute longing in his eyes caused your heart to ache. He did as you said and you closed your own, stroking a claw made of darkness against his mental barrier.

He let you in without hesitation.

You couldn’t touch him in the real world. But here, through the connection in your minds…

You painted him a beautiful picture of you on your knees before him, staring up at him through your lashes as he continued to stroke himself. You licked your lips before replacing his hands with your own. He let out a loud groan, causing you to smile.

You slowly leaned forward until your lips brushed against his tip. You stuck your tongue out, swirling around the head of his dick. He cursed at the image you were putting in his head, his hand moving faster and faster.

You opened your mouth and took him in as far as you could, gagging as his tip touched the back of his throat. You started to bob your head, still looking at him through your lashes as you sucked him off. You showed him gripping your hair with his hands and pushing your head to meet his thrusts, fucking your face, as tears pooled in your eyes.

He had already been so turned on watching his shadows destroy you that he knew he wouldn’t last long.

Just as you felt him drawing closer and closer to the edge, his moans increasing, his thrusts becoming sloppy with no rhythm, you left his mind. His eyes shot open and he cursed at the sight of you kneeling on the bed before him.

He released an unholy moan, chanting your name, as he came. His hot seed shot all over your chest, marking you with his essence.

You watched him ride out his orgasm until his hands slowed down and fell limp at his sides. You magicked yourself clean before rising. Azriel let out another curse, still panting, as he rested his forehead against yours.

You both were silent for a moment, soaking in the tender aftermath of what had undoubtedly changed the relationship between the two of you forever.

“The things I wish to do to you right now, Princess” he grunted, chest still heaving. “If…if only I could touch you.”

“I will find a way to break this bargain, Azriel,” you breathed out. “I will. This can’t be it for us. I..I refuse.”

You would read every single book in the library under the house of wind if you had to. The King of Hybern had been able to break your brother’s bargain with Feyre. There had to be other instances of bargains being broken.

“We can’t… we can’t tell your brother about this,” Azriel muttered. “If he were to find out, he’d send me away from you.”

You wanted nothing more than to march to your brother’s office and rip him a new one. But that still wouldn’t break the bargain. And depending on how irrational Rhys was, it might just make things worse. Azriel was right, he might send him away.

“We keep it a secret for now,” you agreed. “No one has to know.”

“I’m…I’m so sorry,” Azriel mumbled. “I should’ve never done this to us.”

“It’s not your fault, Azriel. How could you have known?”

“I should’ve known. Even then, my feelings towards you were so consuming. I should’ve known they’d never go away. I don’t care if we’re not mates. I love you. I always have and I always will, even if we cannot be together. Even if I must go the rest of my life without laying a single hand on you.”

Your heart broke at his declaration and confession. You sighed, closing your eyes.

“I love you too, Azriel. We’ll figure this out. I promise.”

He nodded, finally pulling away but you reached for his hand. “Stay, please?”

“Always,” he murmured back.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Prince Cedric pulled you aside the next morning after breakfast as his servants were gathering your luggage. He had asked for a quick moment alone and despite Azriel’s disagreement, you sent him away. Still he stayed within eyesight.

“So, I’m sure your brother has informed you of my true intentions towards you, Princess,” Cedric said with a soft smile on his face.

“He has,” you answered, quietly. You had been dreading this moment since you came.

“Have you made a decision yet?”

You genuinely felt bad for the Prince. He had been nothing but kind to you since you had known him. Had treated you well your entire stay. But none of it was ever going to matter. Your heart laid with Azriel and Azriel alone.

“Prince Cedric,” you started, then paused trying to find a way to word your answer politely. “I do appreciate how kind you have treated me these last few days but you must understand, it is a big decision to make. To leave my family and live so far away—”

“It’s okay, Princess. You don’t need to make any excuses. I’m not blind nor dumb. Just perhaps a tad bit too hopeful.”

“What—”

“It’s the shadowsinger, right?” he said with a sad smile. “He’s the one who’s truly won over your heart, hasn’t he?”

You stumbled over your words, eyes widening. Had it been so obvious? You had tried very hard this morning to scrub yourself clean of his scent.

“It’s okay,” he continued quickly, raising his hands in surrender. “Your secret is safe with me though I do feel a bit of jealousy towards him, I must admit. You would’ve made a beautiful queen.”

“Cedric, I-I don’t want you to think I’ve led you on. I did want to get to know you, to see if we had a connection. But—”

“But the heart wants what the heart wants. I understand, y/n. I would not want to take a wife who longs for another anyway.”

You bowed your head, still feeling a bit guilty.

“I did truly enjoy my time here, Cedric. I will look back on it fondly, despite how it turned out.”

“Me too, Princess,” he replied with a smile. “My castle doors will always be open for you, even as a friend.”

“Thank you, Cedric,” you smiled. “I hope you will still consider an alliance with my brother.”

“I will be in touch,” he confirmed with a nod of his head.

You said your goodbyes after that before it was finally time to return home, back to the Night Court.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

A few weeks went by. You scourged the library for any books that talked about bargains and bonds, exhausting yourself with your research. Azriel helped when he could, though he wasn’t always around, so as to not draw attention to what the two of you were doing.

You couldn’t help but give your brother a bit of a cold shoulder. You felt betrayed by him. You had always known he was protective, but this had crossed the line. You spent more nights at the Moonstone Palace, claiming you had work to do regarding the Court of Nightmares, which wasn’t entirely a lie.

It made being with Azriel easier. Each night he snuck into your room and left before the sun came up, just in case anyone decided to drop by. A rose was always resting on your bedside table in lieu of his presence when you’d wake up alone.

But it was hard even being together. It was agony to barely be able to touch each other, for Azriel to have to endure pain for as long as he could just to kiss you or to stroke your cheek. Your daemati powers and his shadows had been useful but it was nothing like being able to truly touch each other.

You were not going to give up. You would find a way to break the bargain. You had promised after all.

But part of you began to doubt how long this could go on. Would Azriel grow tired of only ever using his shadows with you? Would he resent you? So many questions like that swarmed your head despite Azriel trying to assure you that he only wanted you.

Hiding your relationship didn’t help with that either. Elain was still enamored with Azriel, still followed him around like a lost puppy dog. You had to clench your fist every time you were in a room with the two of them despite Azriel not reciprocating her feelings or entertaining them.

That didn’t stop her from constantly sitting near him, resting her hands on him, batting her eyelashes in his direction. It caused something vile to coil in your stomach every time you had to watch her brush her fingers against his, rest a hand on his arm.

It was just a reminder that you couldn’t do that. That every touch you gave him resulted in pain.

And that part of you that was insecure wondered if Azriel would eventually give in to her. After all, he could touch her, feel her, do whatever he wanted with her…unlike you.

Elain could make him feel pleasure without the curse of pain being attached. She could touch him, fuck him, do all sorts of things to him. Things you couldn’t.

How long could he truly go without the touch of another? What if the bargain could never be broken?

You let out a sigh, dropping your head against the book you were currently reading about bargains. So far, nothing had been useful and you just wanted to scream and scream.

“You should take a break.”

You jumped, surprised at the sudden voice in the room. You lifted your head to see Azriel leaning against the doorframe that led out to your balcony. Behind him came the noise of music and laughter as dusk was falling and the people of Velaris were coming alive into the night.

“I still haven’t been able to find anything about breaking bargains. You’d think it would be a more popular subject.”

Azriel strided towards you until he was next to where you sat in your chair at your desk.

“It is a taboo topic,” Azriel replied. “Bargains are magic bound by the Cauldron. Breaking them goes against the Mother, or so it’s thought.”

“Being able to make them in the first place seems to be against the Mother,” you mumbled under your breath. Because how could a stupid bargain be keeping you from being with the one you loved? That didn’t seem very divine.

Azriel grabbed your chair and twisted it so you faced him, moving you as if you weighed nothing. You let out a small noise of surprise.

Azriel kissed the top of your head, stroking your hair. “Just take a break, Princess. You’ve been at it for so long today. You’re going to drive yourself mad.”

You let out a huff before a feline grin spread across your face.

“I suppose you might be able to convince me to take a break,” you purred, looking up at him through your lashes.

You stroked a claw against his mental shields and showed him a pretty image of you bent over the desk while he took you from behind.

Azriel’s gaze instantly darkened as he groaned, his shadows swimming around him like they were already anticipating being used. He smirked, leaning down to whisper in your ear, “I can do more than convince you, Princess.”

Azriel balanced himself with his hands on the back of your chair and leaned down to kiss you on your lips causing butterflies to erupt inside your stomach.

Your eyes fluttered shut, your chest already heaving as his lips met yours.

A knock against your door had the two of you flying apart. Your eyes widened as you stared at Azriel.

“Dove, it’s me.”

You mouthed a curse at the sound of your brother’s voice. The door started to creak open.

“Hide,” you whispered to Azriel.

He was already sinking into his shadows just as the door to your room flew open. Your heart was still pounding as your brother strode in, his eyes falling on you. He raised an eyebrow.

“Was someone else in here just now? I could’ve sworn I heard another voice.”

“And I could’ve sworn I locked my door,” you grumbled, smoothing your hair down.

His eyes darted around the room and his nostrils flared. You saw the immediate realization as he recognized Azriel’s scent.

“Azriel was here just a minute ago,” you hastily answered. “He was dropping off some books for me.”

“Books? What for?”

As he walked closer, you slammed the book on your desk shut, not wanting him to see the section you had been reading.

“Just some stuff I’m doing research on to do with Hewn City.”

Rhys’s eyes narrowed but he didn’t say anything else about it thankfully.

“Well, tell Azriel the next time he drops something off for you, he can come through the front door,” your brother said, crossing his arms over his chest.

You bristled at his tone, the hidden frustrations you had with him breaking through for a second as you snapped back, “What does it matter?”

“It matters because I needed to discuss something with him and it would’ve been nice to know he had dropped by.” Rhys gave you a look, one you knew all too well.

Rhys’s eyes roamed over you, then darted around your room again. “Does Azriel make it a habit coming into your room at night?”

“No,” you answered quickly. “You’re the one who made him my personal guard. I don’t need a guard in Velaris so he helps me in other ways, like fetching books from the library for me.”

“Fine. Well if Azriel decides to come around again, send him to my office.”

You only nodded in response, trying to hide your anger. You had to play this game for now. You wouldn’t ruin what little you and Azriel had. “Is there a reason you barged into my room?”

“We’re working on a new trade deal with Thesan and I need an update on how much iron they’re mining on average each month in the Court of Nightmares.”

“Alright, I’ll work on a report for you and Feyre. Is that all?”

Rhys raised an eyebrow. “So eager to get rid of me, dove? What’s gotten into you lately?”

“Nothing.”

Rhys waited for you to keep speaking but you refused. You were still so angry with him and you knew if you kept talking, there was a chance it’d all spill out.

“Nothing? That’s it? That’s all you have to say?”

“What do you want me to say, Rhys? There’s nothing wrong.”

“Bullshit. You’ve been acting strange for a few weeks now. What’s going on with you?”

“Like I said, nothing. I’ve just been busy. I did ask for more responsibility, after all.” You crossed your arms over your chest and leaned back in your chair, trying to give off a casual demeanor.

“Being busy doesn’t account for your snappy mood.”

You scoffed. “Well, maybe I’m just tired of you hovering over my shoulder all the time! Gods forbid you let me handle things on my own once in a while.”

Rhys took a step back as your words hit him. You expected anger but we’re shocked to see a bit of guilt and sadness cloud his face. “Okay, okay. I know I’ve been overbearing. I’m sorry, dove, I just…it’s hard not to see you as the little girl I took care of all those years.”

You sighed, not expecting this. Perhaps you had been right when you told Azriel that the two of you should go to Rhys. Maybe he would be open to helping you both try to find a way to break the bond…maybe it was a mistake to hide it from him.

“I know, Rhysie, I just…I want to feel like I’ve done something important on my own for once, alright?”

“Okay,” Rhys said, holding his hands up in surrender. “I’ll leave you alone.”

He made to leave finally and you let out a small breath of relief.

“Oh, and we’re having a family dinner tomorrow night at the House of Wind. Helion will be attending as well so wear something nice,” Rhys said, moving back towards your door.

“Alright, I will,” you answered, wanting him to just go already.

He paused with his hand on your doorknob, looking back at you for a moment. “I love you, little dove. I know you said nothing is wrong but I hope you know you can come to me about anything. I will always help you in any way I can.”

“I know, Rhysie. I love you too.”

He nodded, seeming satisfied for the moment and left finally, closing the door shut behind him. You flicked a wrist to lock it with magic, as well as put a shield around the room.

A smile overcame your face as Azriel stepped out of the shadows. You were worried that your brother had killed his mood, would send him running but thankfully, Rhys hadn’t seemed to deter him at all. In fact, the thrill of it all seemed to only spur him on more.

He strided to you and locked you in a passionate kiss that had you gasping, his tongue immediately claiming your mouth.

When he pulled back to look at you, he was grinning wolfishly. “So, where were we?”

You giggled as he lifted you off your chair and sat you down on your desk. You looped your arms around his neck, carefully to touch him as minimally as you could. “I believe you were about to convince me to take a break with you.”

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

“I told you. I couldn’t get her alone. That fucking shadowsinger wouldn’t let her out of his sight. Though now I know it’s because he’s fucking her.”

“I don’t care for your excuses, Princeling. I told you to bring me the girl. That was our deal.”

“What’s so special about her anyways? Certainly there’s something else I can do for you, something else you need.”

The other male studied the Prince for a moment until the younger male seemed to cringe under his stare, slight fear in his eyes.

“If you must know, the moment she stepped foot on these lands I felt the spike of power coming from her and I knew I had to add her to my collection. You want my help overthrowing the King, you bring me that girl.”

The prince sighed, frustrated. “And how do you suppose I do that? She’s being watched like a hawk by both her brother and the shadowsinger.”

“That’s your problem to figure out. You have your own magic, no? Time to get clever, Princeling. My patience is running out.”

Prince Cedric clenched his jaw but nodded, knowing it wise to not argue with the sorcerer.

Koschei gave him one last look before retreating into the shadows leaving the Prince standing alone at the shore of his lake.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

a/n: sooooo, I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter!! hahah What do we think the prince is gonna do to kidnap our girlieee? and do you think she should tell Rhys what's going on with Azriel? Do we think her brother has regrets about making that bargain and would actually try to help them break the bond? hmmm who could possibly know

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pelova4president · 1 month

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Shadows are to protect II

Victoria Pelova x Putellas!Reader

Alessia Russo x Putellas!Reader

Shadows are to protect I, III, IV

summary~ When you finally start to thrive at Arsenal there’s still one person that’s holding you back.

You sat there. In the dark, on your grey couch, the picture of you and Alexia staring at you. The bright light of your screen brightened your face like the Barcelona sun had done a few months ago. You couldn’t run away anymore, you were stuck. No one to talk to and no one to come home to.

Looking down at your screen again you saw the little beads of salty water resting on your screen. And even though you’ve been lonely for far too long you’ve never let the evidence of salty water show it. You never really were a crier, Alexia had always told you to be strong and not to show anyone those emotions, they made you seem weaker than your were.

But when you really needed her she didn’t say a thing about being strong. When you’d go home and cried, you cried in her arms. She held you when you needed to without doubt. She didn’t need you to tell her what was wrong, she just knew that you needed her so she’d be there, always.

‘Ale, i need you’

And that’s how you landed on the first morning flight to Barcelona you could find. The ticket was as pricey as they could get but that didn’t matter, you just needed your sister.

The welcome was warm, like always. It was all too familiar. The airport where you’ve landed and departed from all those Barca years. The sun was at it’s brightest and it almost melted you to the dark tarmac of the airfield. And somehow that thought felt more enjoyable than any thought you had in the past week. Being stuck to Barcelona.

Alexia had told you to be strong and that she’ll visit you soon but you didn’t think that soon would be soon enough.

You got into an severely overpriced taxi at the airport and directed him towards your sisters house. The car was hot and it felt like your skin was melting away. You could see little beads of sweat forming on your driver’s forehead. You didn’t think you could miss a warm sweaty car this much but you had been missing it.

When the vibrating car stopped moving and the motor of the car was cooling down you got out. With both of your feet on the sidewalk of Alexia’s house you were stuck. You traveled all the way to her home to stand still in front of it.

She probably wasn’t even home. The Barca girls had training from 9 to at least 1 if they were lucky. When you finally got the courage to take another step you looked under one of the plants in front of her door. It was dead, you were sure of it but she kept it anyway. Honestly, you didn’t get it. Why do people get plants they know they can’t take care of. It just so sad to see something that was once so green and full of life dry out.

Alexia’s house was cold. Her dog Nala was waiting for her to return but was surprised by the sight of you. You hadn’t seen Nala in a while but you were so sure she would’ve remembered you, she would always remember you, like everyone else right? You loved Nala.

When you scrolled through an ad of a shelter for dogs you saw Nala. You read her description and immediately knew you had to give her a new life. Alexia was in a dark place and so was Nala, they needed eachother. So the next week you picked the princess up and drove to your sisters house to surprise her.

Alexia wasn’t really fond of having a dog in house but that changed so quick. Nala was Alexia’s princess, and yours too.

But Nala didn’t seem to remember anything from that story anymore. She wasn’t jumping on you or letting out some hard barks. The little dog was growling at you. She seemed to forget you, just like whole Barcelona did.

You sat there, on Alexia’s couch. The one that you used to crash on at least once a week. Nala was sat next to you, she was paying no mind to you. Scrolling through your Instagram feed you saw Alessia with Katie and Caitlin. It made you jealous to some extent. She had friends and you, you didn’t, not really. The girls were nice but they weren’t friends. At the moment you didn’t really have friends anywhere.

You heard the noise of keys and Nala’s ears shot right up. Alexia’s home.

You heard her grunt and drop her training bag at the door. Nala’s steps were going towards your sister and so were yours. “Hola, hermana.” you welcomed her. Her eyes shot up to your face and her arms flew open to embrace you.

You almost sprung into her arms. Alexia didn’t say anything, she just held you and you didn’t let go. “you’re gonna be okay.” she whispered and that’s when you lost it. Tears started to stream down your face. Alexia’s grey sweater had taken a darker shade of grey and she could feel the deathly grip you had on her sweater.

“I’m not gonna be okay Ale. I don’t know what i’m doing.” you cried. She didn’t assure you you didn’t, she didn’t tell you that you just needed to get used to England. She just hummed. And it kind of made you love her even more for it. She didn’t offer you some fake sympathy talk, she kept it real.

The both of you didn’t say much more that day. You went to sleep early and Alexia crawled next to you later that night. With her arms around you and a kiss to your forehead she wished you goodnight. It was nights like these that you missed more than anything.

You woke up around 4 am. Nala and Alexia were dead asleep so you picked your phone up from your nightstand. You had gotten one message. ‘Hey, i didn’t see you at practice today, are you okay? If you want to talk to anyone, i’m here’ you read. Victoria Pelova cared about you?

You knew Alessia and Victoria were good friends. And it made sense Alessia probably hadn’t told Victoria about.. you. Just like you still hadn’t told anyone about Alessia.

Alexia grumbled a bit and opened her eyes. “What are you doing hermanita?” she asked you tiredly. “Pelova, you know her. She was wondering where i was today and asked me if i’m okay and if i needed someone to talk to.” you explained. Alexia hummed understandingly. “I think you should talk to her. Maybe you’d get along eh?” she thought aloud.

She was right, you had to give her a chance. She was being nice and it wasn’t like you had any other friends in London. So you texted her back, ‘I’m in Barcelona at the moment, just needed to see some family. Maybe we could talk when i’m back?’.

Alexia didn’t exactly say that she wanted you out of her house after day three but you knew she did. So when she came home after training you took that as your cue to travel back to the still red North London.

You came home around dinner time and didn’t really have anything to eat. ‘Are you back in England yet?’ Victoria had texted. You texted her that you were and if she wanted to come over to order something. And in less than twenty minutes she was knocking on your door.

“I took some Chinese takeout with me on the way, hope you don’t mind?” she smiled. You thanked her with a grin.

Victoria seemed like a very extroverted and outspoken and maybe even a bit annoying type to you at training. But maybe that was just because she was hanging around Katie, Beth and Kyra. But now she seemed a lot calmer, the opposite of annoying really.

Vic didn’t mention your absence which was nice, you didn’t really want to explain all of that to her. You didn’t expect to have a lot in common with the Dutch girl. She had a really warm presence and you loved every bit of it. Maybe all you needed was a friend here.

Victoria was waiting at the entrance of the training centre. “Buen día!” she waved. “I didn’t know you could speak Spanish.” you said. “I can’t but i’ve started my Duolingo streak Spanish since yesterday!” she smiled proudly. She made you so happy, she learned Spanish just for you. You were starting to feel thankful for Alexia’s advice.

“I guess i’ll have to learn Dutch now?” you laughed. She nodded her head and offered to learn you Dutch if you gave her some Spanish lessons. It seemed like a pretty good deal.

You started to spend a lot more time with the brunette. She was good company and you actually started to learn Dutch. You planned a trip to The Netherlands together. She would show you the city and her previous club, Ajax.

Everything was going better. You were in a better mental place and physically you were unstoppable. Jonas started to give you a place in the starting lineup almost every game and even the fans started to love you. You even got your very own chant. You were on top of the League and could not be held back any longer, you were finally thriving in London.

Alessia was the only problem keeping you from being fully happy. Even though you only saw her at practice and games she still was being bitter to you. Whenever you were talking to Victoria she took her away from you with some bad excuse. It was hard for you to feel at home in the changing room without Victoria around.

Naturally fans started to speculate about the two of you. They were saying that you were in a relationship with the midfielder and that you’ve been hiding it for a while now. Victoria was a good friend, your bestfriend but that was it. Nothing more. You hadn’t had those sort of feelings since Alessia and they still hadn’t totally gone away. It was shit to still have those feelings for someone who made it very clear she didn’t reciprocate those feelings. So you opted to ignore those feeling all together.

Victoria came over after practice to bake a pie for your upcoming birthday. She told you that she was an absolute pro in baking apple pie but you knew she was lying. No way that the girl that couldn’t even cook rice without burning it can bake an actual good pie.

And just like you had predicted the pie wasn’t really pie-ing. There was flour and cinnamon all over your kitchen and on both of your clothes. “Sukkel!” you shouted at her when she tipped her glass of water off the counter. But you started laughing when she slipped and fell right to the ground that was still covered in white flour.

“Fuck!” she cursed whilst you were trying to hold yourself up while laughing uncontrollably.

The night went by quickly like it always did with the midfielder.

Victoria has been the little light in your dark thoughts and you were so thankful for her but when you bid her goodnight you didn’t expect her to kiss you. She was stood in front of you, in a black hoodie with white spots on it from your kitchen adventure. Her cheeks were red from all the laughing and drinking. And she was leaning in to kiss you.

You didn’t stop her though. And you definitely didn’t stop her when you saw the door across from yours open. You didn’t stop her when blue eyes focused on the two of you. And you didn’t stop when you heard a door shut.

Victoria waved goodbye and you stood still, staring at the two plants placed on the ground in front of you. The ones you had gifted Alessia. They were dead. You were the only one that kept them alive and now they were dead. You failed them.

#shadows are to protect #woso x reader #woso fanfics #woso community #engwnt #arsenal wfc #alexia putellas x reader #alessia russo #alessia russo x reader #alexia putellas #espwnt #barca femeni #barcelona femeni #arsenal women #victoria pelova x reader #victoria pelova

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stellar-skyy · 2 months

Text

FAMILY (OF SORTS) — Platonic Fatui Harbingers & reader.

i. SUMMARY: The Fatui Harbingers have a soft spot for Arlecchino's child. ii. CONTENT WARNINGS: None! iii. NOTES: STRICTLY PLATONIC, headcanons, fluff, parent!arlecchino, house of the hearth!reader, all of the harbingers are reader's weird aunts and uncles, gn!reader, they/them pronouns used, 1.6k words. iv. A/N: the fatui are just a dysfunctional found family and i will die on this hill. shoutout to @romaritimeharbor for listening to my rambles about this idea 🫶🫶 also pierro and pulcinella aren't here because i could not think of anything to write for them :')

All of the harbingers knew about Arlecchino’s child; the one that appeared in Fatui Headquarters stuck to her side, eyes cast to the floor. They all saw the way that Arlecchino had held a soft grip on their shoulder, guiding them through the halls with the gentle touch of a parent from the gentle hands of a monster.

The Knave always swore she didn’t play favourites, but from an outside view it was clear that they held a special place separate from the rest. Anyone could see the way they appeared so much more frequently by her side. They were permitted to sit in on meetings, following her like a shadow. Some of the Harbingers guessed that she had picked them to be her successor; that their frequent shadowing was training them to take over once she was gone. Others joked about Arlecchino’s apparent soft side taking over. Whatever the reason, time went on, and the Fatui saw more and more of them.

All of them varied in their opinions of them—some indifferent, some fond—but the Harbingers all cared for them in their own ways.

⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

Columbina simply adores them. They’re just so small and cute, so tiny and fragile! Admittedly, her idea of ‘tiny’ is rather skewed—applying to anyone she deems weaker than her (notably, this label also gets given to Capitano and Tartaglia, despite their larger size and physical strength. The Damselette is truly an enigma.)

Whenever Arlecchino allows her to watch over them, she is delighted. She has a penchant for pet names, so ‘angel’, ‘my sweet’, and ‘lovely’ are all more commonly used than their name. Sometimes there’s a ‘baby’ or ‘bub’ if she’s feeling particularly affectionate, but no matter the name, it is always dripping with sweetness. She’ll sing to them too, to calm them down or get them to sleep. Her voice is gentle, laced with as much love as she would show her own child.

Some Fatui believe Columbina is a woman formed from hollow sweetness; that behind the lazy smile and soft voice, lies a callous and unfeeling heart, but her insistence on singing them to sleep comes from a place of genuine affection.

When they have to return home, she’ll kiss their cheeks and sweep them into a hug, making them promise to visit her soon.

⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

The fact that Arlecchino would tear out his throat with her bare hands if he dared to look at them the wrong way is the only thing stopping Dottore from roping [Name] into one of his experiments. Even then, he can’t help but investigate them a bit. Nothing extreme—please put the knife down, Knave—just some simple trials to see how they work. A quick strength assessment, a test of their reflexes, enough to judge the effectiveness of the House of the Hearth’s training.

The segments all had different opinions of them, varying from Prime’s general indifference to some of the younger segments fondness towards them. The latter were less likely to try to trick them into the lab—not that Arlecchino would allow them anywhere near it without strict supervision—and instead focused their efforts on convincing them to help mess with the rest of the Dottores. They proved to be an excellent partner in crime to thoroughly ruin the older segment’s day.

Despite his assertion that he won’t harm them, Dottore tends to be the one Arlecchino trusts least around her child. His unwillingness to get on her bad side doesn’t stop her from insisting Columbina or herself accompany them whenever they visit his lab.

⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

Tartaglia loves them. The days he gets to see his siblings are few and far between, so he’s always eager to play the older brother for them, and for any other House of the Heath kids that stop by. In fact, whenever any of the children visit, he makes sure to buy them plenty of sugary treats and candies before quickly sending them back to their Father.

(Arlecchino was not happy the first time this happened. It didn’t stop him from doing it every time, though.)

He was the first to convince them to call him Uncle, a feat that he bragged about to the rest of the Harbingers. This small incident would inadvertently lead to a petty competition to see who their favourite is, an event that would quickly spiral out of control with bribery and promises coming from all sides.

⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

Sandrone is very particular with who she allows in her workshop. When the rare guest was allowed inside, they had to follow three simple rules: do not touch anything, do not move unless I tell you to, and do not talk to me while I work. When [Name] first stumbled into the room, she was prepared to discourteously shoo them out the way she did whenever Tartaglia poked his head in to see what she was working on. But after some extensive begging, she relented and sat them down in a corner to watch her work.

Even if she is far less fond of them as some of the other Harbingers, she still audibly squeaked the first time she was called Aunt Sandrone. This was covered up with a cough, but nothing could stop the warmth blooming in her chest. It was the first time a living creature had addressed her with such a familial title; some of her synthetic creations had a habit of calling her Mother, but this was a living, breathing person.

After they started calling her that, she quietly told them they were free to visit when she was working—provided they did not interfere with anything.

⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

As much as he denies it, Scaramouche has a big soft spot for kids. He’ll swear up and down that he doesn’t care for them at all, but he treats them noticeably gentler than he treats any other member of the Fatui. Arlecchino once caught them huddled against him, using his wide-brimmed hat to shelter from the rain. She never let him forget that moment—the fearsome Balladeer, who notoriously never let anyone close enough to touch him, allowing her child to use him as an umbrella.

They remind him a little too much of the young boy he once considered his family. Whenever he spends time with them, there is something inside that both urges him to protect them in the way he couldn’t protect that child, and warns keep them at arm’s length before they betray him too. But his endearment towards them prevailed, and he begrudgingly allowed them a place in his heart.

Unlike Columbina’s affectionate pet names, the only nicknames Scaramouche gives them are ‘kid’ and ‘brat’, depending on his mood. On good days, they might even get called by their name, though it is a rarity. He cares for them, truly. In his own, strange way.

⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

Capitano is the best at giving advice out of all the harbingers. He is much more down to earth than Columbina and Dottore, and far less cynical than Scaramouche and Sandrone. He’ll let them ramble about their frustrations freely before offering gentle suggestions on what they should do to help. Even if they aren’t looking for a solution, he’s patient enough to hear out their thoughts, however jumbled and incoherent they may be.

He also likes teaching them skills he deems important for a young person to know. These include cooking—Tartaglia is not allowed to join them in these lessons after he almost burnt down the kitchen trying to ‘help’—as well as sewing and mending clothes.

⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

Pantalone never would describe himself as parental. He never cared too much for kids; he hadn’t enough patience to deal with constantly crying babies or needy toddlers. Arlecchino’s child was thankfully far above that age, so they were less unbearable to deal with.

He was quite happy to spoil them with extravagant gifts and treats to win their favour, but the most effective way he does so is simply spending time with them. Trips to luxurious restaurants for lunch, allowing them to shadow him while he works. He also likes to give them advice—completely unasked for—about life, and relationships. Unlike Capitano however, his advice is of a much less helpful; he has a habit of advocating for blackmail for solving problems.

In exchange for a box of the most expensive pastries in Teyvat, he got them to call him their favourite uncle in front of Tartaglia. The miniscule dent in his funds was worth the look of betrayal on the younger Harbinger’s face.

⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

Signora easily took the longest to warm up to them. When she first met them, it was easy enough to label them as Arlecchino’s brat and move them from her mind. But they kept appearing, in and around the headquarters. At first they were always glued to the Knave’s side, but eventually Signora began to see them wandering alone through the halls. She took note of them—not out of any attachment to them, only out of self-preservation knowing that if Arlecchino found out her child landed themself into trouble while she was close by, it would be her funeral soon.

The sense of obligation faltered when she started to grow fond of them. They were irritatingly innocent, a rarity within the Fatui. Something about the spark in their eyes reminded her of when she was young—when she still had warmth in her heart and blood in her veins. For the first time in centuries, her frozen heart began to thaw with care towards another person, and begrudgingly, she began to accept that they were not as unpleasant as she once believed.

reblogs and comments are appreciated! ♡

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reiincarnatiion · 9 months

Text

shadows of destiny | azriel x reader | part two

summary : jealous but confused azriel, yearning shadows and sexy lucien and sexy reader ;)

🧚‍♀️

a/n: 💗 WOW. SO MUCH SUPPORT ON THE FIRST PART BROOO GUYS I JUST OFCOURSE HAD TO WRITE PART TWO and def will have part 3 i guess? ngl i am an angsty writer so im not good at writing happy endings HAHA rip for u all.

this is so addictive ive already written 3 stories in a span of like three days HAHAH 💗

also most azriel stories i read are never from his perspective so im keeping it from his perspective to change things up! he is def a bit out of character because i havent read acotar for a while rip but enjoy! thanks for the support and let me know your thoughts !! also this isnt proof read cuz ya girls lazy >.<

read [ part one ] !!

---💗---

"What are you two doing?"

Lucien and you both looked up, shocked (but not really) , to find Azriel standing in the middle of the dance floor, clad in his black silk shirt and pants, with swirls of tattoos peeking through, his collarbone on full display. Fae moved gracefully around him, dancing and making out, carefully avoiding the famed shadow singer.

He stands in front of you two, just as you two had begun your pathetic attempts to drunkedly dance. Your short dress had ridden up to the top of your thighs, pressed against Lucien's pants, and Azriel knew it was entirely inappropriate. He observed as you raised your eyebrows and looked down at him.

He couldn't fathom how you two had crossed the line from friends, but he knew it was wrong. Over the eons, he had seen you with many men, but they had always been strangers to him and the Inner Circle. They had never been serious.

Were you and Lucien serious? The club fell silent to him, as he awaited your answer.

His shadows swirled around his feet, urging him to intervene. Some even attempted to caress your legs, but Azriel swiftly reeled them in, refusing to acknowledge how soft and sweet-smelling they might be. He couldn't bear to know how apparently tempting they were.

Azriel clenched his jaw as you gazed back at him with your kohl-lined eyes, their newfound seductive power nearly breaking his stoic demeanor.

He bit the inside of his cheek to quell the sudden effect your look had on him, not wanting to indulge in such thoughts; they could only lead to trouble.

"Uhhh... Dancing?" you drawled back finally, rolling your eyes in a way that he would have only have liked to see in bed with you, behind you, with his hands wrapped in your hair as he-

He blinked, the deafening thumping of the music returning to his consciousness, as the rush from his panicking shadows ebbed away, calming his racing heart.

What was he doing? Why did he even come here? A wave of guilt washed over him as he tore his gaze away from your captivating eyes, only to hear you laugh and giggle as Lucien whispered something in your ear, drawing you closer. A giggle Azriel had never noticed was so adorable and sexy at the same time.

Azriel shook his head, trying to make sense of the overwhelming emotions within him. It didn't make any sense. You were like a little sister to him, an integral part of his family.

Stupidly, he realized that he didn't know why his shadows urged him towards you, nor did he understand the sudden waves of jealousy coursing through him.

"AZ! SO NICE OF YOU TO FINALLY JOIN!" a voice screeched, breaking the tension that had enveloped him and the couple in front of him.

They weren't a couple, but they looked like one, and he couldn't stand it. He didn't know why he was acting this way, but he knew one thing for sure: he didn't like it.

He didn't like how Lucien's slender fingers gripped your waist with such familiarity and intent.

The voice that had called out before now manifested next to him as Cassian stumbled over, dragging Nesta along. Their interlocked hands taunted him once more, but Azriel forced himself to look up at Cassian.

"BROTHER!! LET'S DANCE!!" Cassian howled, reaching them and clumsily starting to move their bodies to the rhythm, grabbing Azriel's shoulders to mimic their motions. Azriel stumbled back, desperate to escape the situation, but Cassian persisted.

"Leave me alone, Cassian," he mumbled, brushing his brother's hands away with his gloved ones.

"Why don't you ever dance with us?" Cassian whined, oblivious to Azriel's attempts to withdraw.

Azriel burned with annoyance, returning his attention to you and Lucien. But then, a tender voice spoke out behind him, and he knew it was Feyre even before turning around to see Rhys drunkenly laughing with Cassian as the other couple joined.

“Az, what are you doing, staring holes into Lucien and Y/N,"

"I--" Azriel faltered, trying to make sense of his emotions and jumbled thoughts. "It's just wrong."

He blinked, wondering why he had even gotten up in the first place.

"They're just drunkenly dancing; Elain is fine with it. You don't have to defend her honor here, Az," Feyre assured him, patting him on the back before returning to her mate.

Azriel stood still, smoothing out his pants and running a hand through his tousled hair. The club's hazy atmosphere seemed to envelop him, and he realized that the fae wine he had consumed tonight had hit him hard. Perhaps he had gone too far this time.

"Yes, yes, of course. I just thought Lucien should respect Elain..." he answered hastily, though he knew Feyre had already left. Shadows informed him that Rhys and Feyre had retreated to their more secluded spot again, and Azriel felt a pang of envy.

A couple of fae rammed into him, slightly spilling their drink and apologising in a haste as they realised who they had just knocked into. He glowered down at them and shook his head, stalking back silently back to the booth.

He walked back to the booth where Elain was still seated, nursing a pink drink.

"What was that all about, Az?" she asked innocently, though her doe eyes betrayed her knowing nature.

"It was nothing."

"You were clearly distraught, Az."

"My shadows sensed something was wrong, that's all, Elain."

"Lucien and Y/N?" Elain asked gently, her hand reaching for his gloved hands.

Azriel looked down at her delicate skin brushing against his black leather glove and he felt a sudden overwhelming contrast between the two. He removed his hand from hers, realizing how mismatched they were.

Cassian and Nesta complemented each other perfectly, a match made from the Cauldron itself. Feyre and Rhys shared a love and trust so profound, it was interwoven within their powers.

But what did he have with Elain, other than a forced interest in gardening and her white and pink flowers?

"They're just dancing, it's fine," he told her, his voice numb. He couldn't help but look back at you and Lucien, still writhing against each other on the dance floor in ways that supposedly platonic friends shouldn't.

Lucien's hands were still firmly on your waist as you both gyrated, laughing and singing along to the music. You'd blame it all on the alcohol the next day, if asked about your actions. Azriel knew that, just as he'd experienced countless nights where Cassian or Rhys had kissed him during similar inebriated moments.

Beside you two, Nesta and Cassian mirrored your movements, seemingly unfazed by the intimate nature of your dance. The club's flashing colors continued to shift and flash all around Azriel, in strikes of pink, blue and green but all he saw was red, and he did not

Know

Why.

---

read part three here dearies !!

taglist for shadows of destiny : @allyjoe755 @impossibelle @t0uch-starved-h0e @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @marina468 @cassan1306

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buckrecs · 1 year

Note

HELLO so i was wondering if you have some winter soldier x reader fics?? ive been trying to find some but theyre all so short (still amazing stories tho) tysm, i really appreciate you making recs

Winter Soldier!Bucky

masterlist | req masterlist

ONESHOT

Into Cursed Pixie Dust by @buckets-and-trees

“He's credited over two dozen assassinations in the last fifty years…” but you don’t know that. You run into him once, then again, again, again. Destiny draws you together, and neither of you can deny the pull. And yet though he never ages, you do.

Stalker by @you-are-my-sanctuary

In which Bucky has a crush on the new PR manager and is being an adorable stalker.

sleepwalking by @lanadelreyscokewhor3

when your boyfriend bucky wakes up with the winter soldier mindest, you do the only thing you know how to do- comfort him. he does the only thing he knows how to thank you- possessive sex.

Colors in the Dark by @buckychrist

The world is without color, and that’s never bothered the Winter Soldier. The Fist of HYDRA didn’t have time for love and soulmates. At almost a century old, what are the odds that his soulmate was even still living?

ephemeral by @earlgreydream

the winter soldier shows up wounded at your door during a storm.

Purgatory by @wkemeup

While on a mission, Bucky becomes dissociated into the Winter Soldier. But instead of becoming a threat, his instinct is to protect.

a soldier gone rouge by @kinanabinks

the winter soldier has been sent to kill you. why, then, are you so wet?

Reverse Psychology by @waiting4inspiration

Bucky’s Winter Soldier mode is triggered. But you have something up your sleeves that will bring him back.

Comply by @gogolucky13

With Hydra, everyone is a prisoner.

Don’t Fear the Reaper by @gogolucky13

One night, the Winter Soldier appears at your place of work to eliminate a target. He leaves you alive, only to return a few months later.

Fatal Mistake by @rookthorne

A rogue agent amidst their ranks, it was the perfect plan, a perfect escape. It was their fatal mistake.

Wolf, Partner, Gloves… by @revengingbarnes

HYDRA’s words make Bucky go into Winter Soldier mode. Then he meets you, and you make for him words that will bring him back to normal.

the dragon and her shadow by @kashimos-hajime

You fall in love with the Winter Soldier, and they punish you for it. Sentiment is weakness, but what can they do? After all, they cannot kill the Fist of H.Y.D.R.A. and mortal men cannot even begin to comprehend slaying a dragon.

take it easy, romeo by @sunmoonandeddie

The Soldat remembers one person through it all.

You Found Me by @samthemarvelfan

Bucky Barnes always came home to you. What happens when he doesn't? Worse than that...what happens when he forgets you existed?

Gone Again by @tokoyamisstuff

The Winter Soldier is lost and confused, unable to remember a single thing - except for the place where he’d find the woman that had become his safe space.

I’ll Come Back for You by @milliedazzledust

something where he is in winter soldier mode and protecting the scientist (y/n) where she is the only one who can sort of calm him down after a mission.

Void by @theeleggymeggy

Working as a nurse at HYDRA, you find yourself intervening when you catch Alexander Pierce striking The Asset. You don’t even know this man, but you can’t just stand and watch him be beat down.

Sweet Memory by @

SERIES

One’s Promised by @invisibleanonymousmonsters

Living a double life was not a choice when one was the daughter of Alexander Pierce. Y/N was the youngest agents of SHIELD and one of the most respected threats within Hydra’s empire. No matter her allegiance, she was feared by both. Y/N Pierce would’ve tried to escape it all… if it hadn’t been for The Winter Soldier.

Soldat by @the-fallen-nightmare

Captain America and Reader have worked together at SHIELD for over a year. What happens when they have a run in with The Winter Solider and Steve finds out the secret Reader had been hiding from him all this time? And what happens when reader is captured by Hydra and The Winter Soldier, again. Can she make Soldat remember her or is her life with Steve just a slow fading memory now?

Breach by @darkmasterlistyouneveraskedfor (dark)

The reader finds herself in the Winter Soldier’s cross hairs during a lock down.

Reset by @lunarbuck

The government has fallen, Hydra has taken over. You were an agent of SHIELD long before the reign of terror began, and became a member of the resistance when they needed you most. Everything changes when the Winter Soldier captures you from your safe house.

Devil’s Backbone by @trashmenofmarvel

With your team dead and your mission failed, you’ve been taken by the assassin to an unknown location and are at the mercy of your cruel tormentors.

Krasavchik by @after-avenging-hours

While under orders from Karpov to test the Soldat’s loyalties to Hydra, you find yourself questioning your own loyalties.

Welcome Home… Soldat? by @winterarmyy

Y/N had make a habit of greeting Bucky a warm 'welcome home' everytime he came back from his missions, but there was one particular day when she unknowingly greeted someone else.

#bucky barnes fic rec #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x f!reader #bucky barnes smut #winter soldier x reader #bucky barnes series #winter soldier!bucky #winter soldier!bucky x reader #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes x agent!reader #bucky barnes x avenger!reader #bucky barnes x hydra!reader #winter soldier smut #dark!bucky barnes x reader #dark!winter soldier #sex pollen

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undercoverpena · 1 month

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iv. a date missed is a date lost

joel miller x f!reader | chapter four of honey stained hands

chapter summary: when you don't make it back from patrol, joel doesn't think for a second about not going to find you.

wordcount: 4.8k warnings: typical canon-angst/grief. angst. canon-level violence (desc of injuries and blood, but nothing insane). reader is a bad ass. injury/comfort — and from Joel. joel calls reader honey (because she bakes). mentions of brief smut. this pair are together but won't admit it. joel is pissed and we love him for it. talks of readers grief (you lose someone from before but not many deets) an: for those who waited, thank you. to those who have just stumbled here: hello, you don't need to take off your shoes.

In time, daylight begins its gradual retreat, casting shorter shadows and making flashlights more of a necessity in the nighttime.

The blankets of white persist, marking winter’s icy caress across rooftops, the ground and anything else it can layer itself against.

At one point, fairy lights go up and then come back down. Briefly twinkling like scattered stars before eventually returning to their storage—time ticking on, days seeping into weeks, then months.

There comes a moment when the snow falls heavier, then thins, only to fall again in abundance, dousing the world as far as Joel's eyes can see.

But, the biggest change Joel notices, is that he begins to dream a lot less of you. No longer a distant fantasy but a tangible presence beside him, a reality woven into the fabric of his days.

He doesn’t need to think you up, you’re already there. Curled against him—facing him—hand under your cheek as you breathe in and out, soft and measured. Like this, you don't appear as a threat to the world, but he knows when awake what you’re capable of.

Just like he knows, deep down, this isn’t just neighbourly friends or nightcaps on the porch—or better yet, occasional sex to pass the time. Even if it all began as such.

It may have started as a carnal need, a teeth-sinking, nail-digging desperation. All akin to a time when he was a teenager, both of you waiting for the door to click shut behind Ellie—as she heads to a friend’s house—before he’s on you, pulling a giggle, a soft shriek of his name before you’re scraping and stripping him until he’s hardening in your hand, mouth or against your thigh.

Lately, it’s soft brushes of thumbs, mouth grazing over exposed skin and whimpers of his name; now, it’s a look—a quiet retreat, slow mornings and lazy nights. Your fingers find purpose on his cheek, eyes seeking his as he buries himself deep, making your mouth part in an O—just as he always does.

Too good for me, Miller. You’re too sweet for me, honey.

A joke. A tease that should be getting old, but isn’t.

Then, your things found themselves with his—or his with yours.

A jumper on his floor, his shirt hung on the handle of your bedroom; his guitar relocating as he does, sometimes against his bedroom wall, and sometimes against yours.

It became morning walks to the pen as he left for patrol and him meeting you at the gate, each time a little different. There are evenings of him arriving home to find you there, cooking—Ellie next to you, nodding, listening to instruction; then there are those where he sits in solitude, counting seconds until he thinks he can invite himself over.

There was even a progression to how the two of you left the bar, when things began to mean more. At first, you had just walked next to him. The next you brushed your fingers against his and the third he found you leaning into him, following him, not even pretending to go home and choosing to follow him inside his.

Truthfully, he’s not sure there’s a reason the two of you live in different houses—even if they’re side by side. Pretending there’s no concrete explanation, even if it lingers in the back of his mind. It rears its head when the night creaks in, rotting in a corner of his mind, a thought he should ponder over, pluck strings to until it makes sense—until he rationalises whether he can do it. Love, that is.

He’s ‘changed’, according to Tommy. Although, he’s not sure what that means. It’ll add to the pile, one he has to sort through but never does. Content with it, the things that weigh him down, deep down knowing he’s worthy of it—because his hands are stained even if they don’t appear as such.

Then, you’ll do something. Hand him a tin of shortbread, a smile—all wicked, and unwilling to be read—spreading and spreading. “It’s not a gift—it means nothing.”

“Whatever y’tell yourself.”

And then he’s confused all over again.

Whether it’s possible, whether he’s earned it—deserving of another chance. A twinge of pain when he remembers long hair against his neck in Boston, and the way her hands were as blotted as his.

You’re not her, but you’re smudged in your own way. Made of something entirely different, yet born from a similar pain he can see. You rose from the marshes, bones hardened thanks to the branches—grew strong from the soil and dirt. You’re one with nature in a way that made him wonder if the wind talked to you.

A thing he admires, the same way he does about a lot of things.

He supposes it would be easier, and simpler.

Not just loving you but having you here. You and your fire that warms all it touches, your kind disposition that you pretend not to have, but it rolls from you in plenty.

Less traipsing from home to home, less of him misplacing his things amongst your counters and sitting in your kitchen as you bake, only to take the treats with him next door, his fingers inside yours.

And, even if two of you are unwilling to put a name to the thing they are. We’re adults, Joel. We don’t need that, do we? It wouldn’t be terrible—a thing he rather likes. But, he likes it more that you don’t feel the need for it. Because in an ocean of complexity, you’re the thing that makes sense—the one thing he understands.

Doesn’t need to turn over much except what’re you thinking, what ticks behind your glazed eyes and whether the seconds you linger at the red toolbox are shortening or if he’s just becoming used to it—

“Joel, is that—oh my fuck…”

Your hands grasp at the VHS in his hand—fingers turning it over, that line appearing on your forehead that tells him you’re thinking, catching up to the actuality before it’s been told to you.

“Evenin’ to you too—”

“—What did you trade for this?”

Shrugging, he shoves his hand into his jeans—the ones that have grown tighter, barely able to fit the same hand that it used to, comfortably.

“Joel.”

Scratching the back of his neck, he sighs. “Y’think you wanna watch it with me?”

Licking your lips, you place it down on the counter, face blank, fucking unreadable. “What, like a date?”

Shrugging, he smiles. “Would that be terrible?”

“No, suppose it wouldn’t be.”

Nudging you, he likes how you paint him in a laugh. Something rich, warm.

“I’ve got patrol—but, can freshen up, come round after?” you suggest, hand on his chest. “You don’t sleep without me anyway.”

And he nods. Already mentally beginning to count down, watching you smile, ticking his jaw from side to side.

“I’d wipe that.”

“What?”

Licking your lips, you smirk. “The smile—people will think you’re soft.”

“No, they won’t.”

“Will if I begin spreading it.”

He just pinches you on the ass.

In the whole of his life, there have been only six times when Joel’s blood ran cold.

An expression he'd never understood until the first time it happened.

He had never expected the saying to mean a chill blasting down his spine. Or that sounds and scents would blur to nothing as his stomach twisted, just like he never anticipated the prickling sensation spreading across his skin like a thousand icy needles and rendering everything else inconsequential in comparison.

Tommy had been the first, all little, barely the same height as the kitchen counter. Nose bloody, swollen upper lip and a look on his face that made Joel want to snap arms and break skulls. He had settled for breaking the nose of the kid who had picked a fight with his baby brother.

The second was far worse—the first time Sarah first got ill. All little coughs, splutters—a temperature hotter than a stove, harsh cries and soft pleading whimpers that she couldn’t articulate or describe. A helplessness he hadn’t been able to explain or shake, not in the days after, or the weeks and months. In truth, Joel isn’t sure he ever slept quite the same.

The third was that night. When it dawned, when it hammered into him like a thousand needles and pierced every single part of who he was. When it broke him. Snapped him. Made him come apart and yet still exist—kneeling, the blood growing gummy and cold. Leaving her there, not taking his baby girl with him. A part of his heart, soul and reason left there in tall grass as he was forced to put one foot in front of the other.

The fourth had been when Tommy had left—when he’d realised it. When he saw the life he had and wondered what the fuck had happened. It bled horribly into the fifth. A dread as he saw the mark, the bite—the realisation she would be taken too: Tess. The new normal he’d made coming undone too, seams burst, emptiness spreading, rising and rising until he felt nothing but fire and ice simultaneously.

Ellie in that hospital had been the sixth. Joel hadn’t even known he could experience another. His heart was not made of iron like he tried to convince himself when he was younger. A tightness that didn’t resolve until he held her in his arms, till he kept her safe, until he blazed through the building ripping and tearing until her pulse was against his fingers.

He’d never expected to feel it a seventh.

Had thought his cards had all been dealt. A person could surely only have so many chances at having things to love, to care for—to have it all received back too.

There’s not a single sound when Tommy tells him. Informs him.

There’s just ringing. It douses everything else, his fingers rubbing against his thumb, his knees cracking before his head catches up to the fact he’s standing, fingers clenching and unclenching.

A fire rising, not smothered—not willing to be snuffed out by action and thinking. Not as he sees the words being said, confirmed.

Because deep down he’d known what was coming before they were muttered. Had felt them.

He’d been aware your plate was no longer warm, steam no longer rising, food all but congealing, cold—practically unedible. His eyes had been pinned to the clock on the wall, to the way the big hand nudged the smaller one on.

He hates that he hesitates.

That he remains, feet planted to the floorboards of his home. Eyes flicking to Ellie, to this person he swears to protect, to be there for, a second chance amongst a graveyard of mistakes—

“If you don’t go after her, I’ll never forgive you.”

Strong words. But then, she’s strong.

He’s seen it when she talks to you, all hushed whispers and confessed secrets. Sees it in her shoulders even when she curls into your side for a half-hug, your arm sliding around, head resting on the top of hers.

Because you mean something to Ellie too.

Which is why he can’t remain—shouldn’t. All unwilling to let anyone talk him into waiting, for a plan to be devised, to be drawn up and communicated.

Because you wouldn’t. There’d be nothing that’d keep you back, from going, from doing.

We’re doers, me and you, Miller. We don’t wait around for people to decide, we act.

Each step seems to echo that with his sorrow—with that knot inside of him. The corners of his eyes narrow as anger shakes through him, hammering and solidifying itself in some corner of him—weighing him down, making his boots dig more intently into the snow.

Because you were right—knuckles brushing over his cheek when the two of you shared a sliver of what happened to you that day. It had changed him, that birthday all those years ago. A brief glance at his watch, the one he still wears, never forgotten, never fixed. It compelled him to action, a force that surged within him, driving him forward, taking and taking until his knuckles burst through flesh—becoming it, a doer, a thing which took and survived.

Maybe that’s why this keeps happening.

Why good keeps being taken from him? It’s never thieved, never sneakily tugged from under his nose, but rather openly and brazenly taken. It’s this that forces his hands to clutch the reins tighter as the cool wind whips past him, tracing the tracks, envisioning the exact route you would have taken. Only coming to a stop when the snow becomes undisturbed, dismounting with a groan.

It makes a lump rise in his throat. One that doesn’t vanish when he begins tying the horse to a tree—patting her and stroking her. Because he’s too old for this. Too old for the caring, the chasing, the losing, and the fear. His palm against the animal, feeling the heartbeat inside, grounding him for just a moment.

But, even if he is, he’s not letting it, them or whatever take you.

Not as he pulls on gloves and tilts his neck until it cracks. Not as he thinks about the last time he was out here with you—a treat, you’d called it: we’ve swapped partners for the day. Don’t make me go alone, Miller. As if he ever would. A thing which earned him a different kind of gasp when your spine met a tree trunk, gloves fingers sliding through his hair, a laugh there on your lips—desperate to greet the air, if not for his lips smothering it away, silencing it.

He replays it.

Desperately wanting for nothing more than for that laugh, that smile—that snark and its bite. Joel wants bark under his nails and for it to be finding a home under yours too—a reminder, a badge of honour. He wants nature to attempt to cover up the sound of his skin slapping against yours; wants the wind to try and compete with the moans he extracts from your throat.

He wants.

Hand tightening around the gun, he swallows—vision whitening in the corner of his eyes as his jaw tightens.

A figurative storm cloud rising above him, grey and thundering, cracking as he hears you say don’t sleep without me anyway on repeat. Over and over. That smirk carved into him, scraped in with sheer gut and will.

Then, he replays Tommy. The words which are supposed to bring comfort, but just bring more rage. “She’s good, Joel” doesn’t bring you home, the same as “He’s good—one I know can pull his weight”, because is he as good as him? As good as you?

Is the man who is meant to have your back as much of a monster as him—as the two of you?

He learns in half a mile that he wasn’t. An answer left, presented—all lit up in scarlet. Neck snapped. Anger let loose on the man who had smiled at him around and about. Gone. Left to decompose and erode.

Joel wonders what it says about him that he feels nothing when he removes the weapons from the man’s belt. Taking what he can before leaving, and continuing on.

At each step, he hopes you’re as good as he thinks you are. Each breath heaved from Joel’s chest he hoped you were still beating, it hanging in the frigid air in front of him, a visible reminder of the feeling he had forgotten about—allowed himself to forget—fear.

How it isn't just about dread, but rather the erosion of faith—a corrosion of belief, leaving him almost gasping for air. There’s a curse there too, simmering on his tongue, desperate to be released and breathed into the oncoming night as he ties another thread around an extended branch. Doing so every so many steps, a guide, a trail for someone else to follow—just in case, forever just in fucking case.

His arm bumps into a tree he passes, one adorned with delicate frost, stood like a sentinel, like the rest around it. Its branches reach out in frozen pleas to the heavens above as snowflakes descend from his bump, a thing falling in a way not too dissimilar to the unrest inside of him, stirring and swirling and all but fucking churning.

Jaw gritted, he swallows. Readying himself to move, to force himself on when he sees it, spots it. The thing you’d once showed him all intentionally.

From the outside, the cabin looks like it usually does.

Worn, broken—far less a structure and more a ruin. But, he knows without opening the door it’s hiding things, concealing unfamiliars and protecting traitors. He can tell.

And it is when he steps inside. Just none of them are breathing.

A full house of horrors. A museum of a fight that hadn’t gone the way, the three he finds in the larger room, would have wanted. One slumped against the wall, a head wound seeping and congealing. The other two lie askew, limbs twisted in ways they shouldn't be. There's a quiet chaos to the scene, a silent testament to a struggle fought with everything at stake.

He checks them all the same, dispatching, covering his back—stepping carefully over loose floorboard and limbs, eyes scanning, all desperately seeking.

Deep down, he’s relieved at the sight of the fallen attackers. A grim confirmation you did not go down without a fight. But another part, one that has been growing with each passing second, is filled with dread, more so as he moves further into the cabin, each step heavier than the last.

The air is stale, tinged with the metallic scent of blood. A scent he's all too familiar with. Following, only to find the next room there’s nothing. Not a thing. Nothing but the door—the one you’d mumbled about being difficult to open—is banging in the breeze. A thud, over and over, like the cabin has a heartbeat that wishes to ring out, and out, and out.

That’s when he finds your note. The singular reason he can hold out hope you’re still alive. Chicken-scratch-proof into pages of a book, your knife stamped as a signature to the backdoor:

compromised, do not look fo—

Joel has never been much of a listener.

Not as he charges outside, not as he sweeps around the new ground with his weapon at the ready. He barely has to look far, before he spots something—a thing out of the ordinary in a clump out at the back.

You. Joel finds you.

You are all but surrounded by clumped white and cherry red, sprawled out on the ground, spots of dark beneath you—a gash on your forehead, blood smeared across your face. The contrast is so rich that it could almost be described as poetic. Somewhat romantic, he supposed. That’s if the poets lingered on the snowflakes hanging from your lashes, instead of the gash to your forehead and the swelling forming along your neck.

But you're breathing. Barely.

His teeth bite at the tips of his gloves, slapping fingers to your pulse, finding it, weak but there, before brushing his knuckles and finding cold skin making him hiss.

You’re smart. A reckoning, a feral monstrous thing that is hard to describe to someone who hasn’t seen you take down a soul twice your size.

Joel liked to tell himself he kept you around for that reason—the fire, the poison woven into your veins that injects into whoever is foolish enough to cross you. But Joel keeps you around for the person you accidentally show him—the one that makes him feel human, less of a beast and someone who has taken, taken, taken.

It’s your grit, your cunning nature, which is why it’s taken him so long to find you. His chest tightened when he was greeted by the scent of iron, all thick—collecting in rooms where you’d fought tooth and nail.

Now, he was standing in the cold piles carved by knees and elbows, your slumped frame, curled as close together—defeated, likely having been convinced you’d never be found before the cold tried to take you as its victim.

But, you’re no victim. No woman who wishes to repent for how you’ve survived or the things you’ve done to breathe easier.

It’s why Joel lifts you, pulls you close—face curling into his neck from the position you fall into, as he’s chilled to the bone by your cold.

“If y’can hear me, hold on.”

He adjusts, even as his back winces—something pinching, hurting, throbbing in the position he’s in on the snow. Hating his age about as much as he hates his bones.

That’s when he whispers your name. Does so like it’s a secret, a thing the forest and the things inside of it aren’t privileged to hear. A thing entrusted to him that he wishes no one else to hear or ever know.

“M’here.”

It’s a mumble. A murmur. The softness barely escapes through clenched, almost chattering teeth—but then your flashes flutter, coated in flakes that shimmy down to your cheek as you attempt to open them.

“Eyes on me—there you are.”

“Stop being c-cute.”

Grimacing, he watches you try to smile—weak, it barely reaching your cheeks, never mind your eyes. “Don’t think anyone's ever called me cute, honey.”’

“Never t-thought someone be storm-m-ing through a forest for me—first time for…”

Looking down, he sees your lashes fluttering, eyes struggling to stay open. Lips still parted around the next word that had yet to fall.

Tapping your cheek, he feels how cold you are. Even here. In nothing but warmth and safety. And he hates that he has to ignore how concerning that is. How hard it is to swallow that you are.

“Don’t stop talkin’ to me now. Might like the silence.”

He feels you laugh. Vibrating against him. More a hiccup than a real laugh, but it’s something.

“I fought—”

“Know you did.”

Nodding, you swallow, cough spluttering in the back of your throat.

"Y' did... y' did real good," he assures, voice thick, chest aching at the sight of you—so strong, yet looking so small and vulnerable against him.

"Did... did I get them?"

Your words are slurred, consciousness fleeting—tiredness trying to sneak you away from him.

"All of 'em," he assures, his grip tightening around you, "Every last one."

He can't be sure if you hear him, your eyes fluttering shut once more.

But he keeps talking, filling the silence with a low, steady stream of words. Comforting nothings, promises of safety, of warmth, of a congealed meal and the VHS. Even as your grip on his hand slackens, your breaths become more shallow, more sporadic. Even when he feels a cold dread creep into his heart, he pushes it away, and focuses on you—on keeping you with him.

"Stay with me," he murmurs, adjusting you, pressing a kiss to the top of your head as you groan against him when he lifts you with him, "Just a little walk, alright."

The snow crunches under his boots as he carries you back up the path he came, leaving a trail behind. Even in finding you, he knows victory tastes bitter on his tongue—a price too high to pay.

"Y'need t’make it, can’t watch that movie alone."

You snort. It is very much there, before it’s buried—engulfed under a whine of pain as you stand up fully.

Can’t. It’s one word, but it’s louder than all the others you’ve spoken, shared—and given. So, he wraps his arm securely around your waist, leading you, taking as much of your weight as he can.

Joel holds you, clutches you against him—a brief flowering of memories from doing something so similar for Ellie. A thought which brings fresh anger, a bitterness to his tongue. Holding tighter because of it, grips you closer—as though his life depends on it.

Because in a way, it does—a part of him acknowledging that now.

More so as you groan, as you plead to stop in harsh whispers as you grip him weakly, as your foot flops occasionally, legs tired, aching.

It’s not until he’s managed to bring you inside, do you murmur again. Nothing full, nothing understood until he’s removed his coat and wrapped you in it, helped lean you against a wall do you say anything more than a groan.

“Tired.”

Hands encased in his, Joel warms them, as the moon bleeds tendrils in through slats and the half-made window. “I know. C'mon, stay with me.”

Your eyes flutter open, glazed and barely focusing on him. "I'm...trying," you whisper, your voice barely audible.

"Good," he murmurs, stroking your hair back from your forehead. "That's all I need. Just...keep trying."

His head turns, looking through the window, seeing the placement of the moon, and wondering if it’ll be morning before someone comes—before someone follows and helps. Just mumbling about anything, joking it’s the most he’s talked, doing so in a voice that mocks your own, doing something, anything to try and keep you awake—keep you warm.

"I should've been there. I should've..."

He doesn't finish the sentence. Doesn't need to.

The regret, the guilt, it's all there in his voice, in his eyes. And you squeeze his hand feebly, your eyes fluttering open to meet his gaze. "Not...not your fault, Joel."

He nods, swallowing hard. "I know. I just...I wish I could've..."

“He made it. This place,” you begin, voice low, barely a breath.

Your eyes focused on some floorboard, not leaving, unwilling to lift to him, even as his head tilts.

“Came out all the time with that red f-fucking toolbox,” you continue, swallowing, wincing as you use your shoulder to itch your cheek.

“He was just a neighbour, a person I knew the first name of. Then he was a-all I had, a friend, then family—a b-brother. I’d… I’d never… and then he was just… gone. Survived all those years, survived all of that, only for s-sleep to take him as soon as we got here.”

Your eyes lift, haunted by sorrow, by exhaustion and something so much more.

And he has no words—not enough for this, none enough to make any of this make sense or feel better.

“I saw him. I—I know he’s gone, know it wasn’t real, but I just closed my eyes, just so I could see him again. And then…”

Your words trail off, a choked sob taking their place as you curl into yourself.

A sound so full of brokenness it makes something inside of him shatter a little, more so when Joel feels you pull your hands free, all rough and worn, clutching around yourself, at the material of his coat—gripping so tight it’s almost as if you’re trying to hold yourself together.

“You think he’d be mad that you saved me—that I’m g-glad you saved me?”

Swallowing, he cups your cheek with his palm. “I think if he’s anything like you, he’d be glad you fought.”

Nodding, you smile, the base of your palm wiping your tears as your lip wobbles. “Can y-you hold me?”

Nodding, he shuffles, and buries a groan in his throat as he manoeuvres a man his age shouldn’t, until he can, until he is. Having you as close as you’ll humanly fucking let him.

Which is how you’re found—a cavalry of those from Jackson, a mixture of surprise and relief etched into their faces when they land on the two of you.

When he suspects they land their eyes on you, and realise, like he did, that you’re the owner of the destruction in the room next to you all.

CHAPTER FIVE ->

AN: next chapter will be quicker i promise, but no strict deadline on when as posting / stepping back into this was a lot.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x female reader #joel miller fanfic #joel miller fic #pedrostories #pedro pascal characters fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #the last of us fanfic #tlou fanfic

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m-ayo-o · 6 months

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seeingdouble ɘldυobϱniɘɘƨ

KINKTOBER IV: DRUGGED starring: f!reader, megumi [25+], toji [mid 40s] synopsis: megumi is led down a dark path by his assassin father. his moral compass askew, lacking any real social experience, he's left to his own devices with a cute girl. thankfully, toji shows up in time to take control. warnings: murder, violence, spiking, drug use: narcotics + psychedelics. stripper!reader [who sometimes offers sex work]. virgin!megumi. restraints. choking. unprotected sex. incest [pussy sharing, dp, anal] guidance. non-con; reader starts to enjoy it [she is drugged] wc: 4.5k

⋆⁺/ don't like it? block it / do not interact i do not condone taking drugs. spiking is illegal. this is fiction

18+ EXPLICIT SEX | DARK CONTENT | HORROR THEMES

When Toji’s wife passed he managed to sell off his daughter to the notorious Zenin clan for a pretty penny, but decided to keep the ten shadows boy for himself.

Without his wife, daughter and clan, Toji’s life spiralled out of control and he took Megumi down with him.

Toji left everything behind, so did Megumi.

Toji became invisible, so did Megumi.

He corrupted him and dragged him into a cursed life of killing for money.

Leaving his boy in cheap, dusty hotels, Toji would go out to commit murder– it was as simple as grocery shopping for him, only returning home with his shirt all bloody and ripped. Young Megumi would eye his clothing curiously, his gaze wide and innocent, but would be too scared to utter a word. He knows his father has a terrible temper.

This routine continued until Megumi got older, into his late teens, when Toji thought it would be appropriate to start telling the young man about what he did. Then in his early twenties he started taking him along on his sinister missions, hunting. Lacking any formal education or training, he doubted his son would be of any use.

But Megumi had become intelligent and strong in his solitude, reading for entertainment and experimenting with his powers, his shikigami the only life forms to keep him company.

Despite his independence, having Toji as his only guiding light led the younger man to have a somewhat twisted view on reality, and as far as sound moral judgement goes, he simply does not possess it.

As an assassin, Toji likes a quick kill; clean and efficient, usually with a gun or a knife. He can get paid faster that way, delivering the body swiftly and avoiding any trouble.

But he’s noticed his son taking a liking to finishing his victims more personally.

⁺⋆

Another murderous evening had drawn to a close, their hands stained red once again, when he carelessly took his eyes off his son and their victim.

A young, powerful sorceress who’d seemingly pissed off the wrong crowd. Still, a surprisingly easy target for the assassin in training.

“Megumi, s’time to go,” the older man wipes his knife and cautiously looks along the alleyway.

His son is unresponsive.

Toji gets closer, squinting in the dark to find his hands wrapped around her neck.

She’s still alive, barely, but clinging on nonetheless, fading in and out of consciousness.

“What are you doing? Just– just fucking–”

“Wait”

The younger man’s stern voice halts Toji from slitting her throat.

And he watches his son squeeze the life out of the young woman.

His lips twitch when her eyes roll back. But still, his hand remains over her windpipe, feeling her pulse die when the last breaths escape her body.

“Megumi. We need to go.”

His son finally pulls away, and they become invisible once more.

Despite his grisly methods, not only did Megumi prove useful, but their missions also provided for some much needed father-son bonding time.

So, with his son reaching 25 years old, they got into this gruesome habit together, becoming partners.

Another habit Megumi picked up from the older man was his tendency to visit strip clubs after their kill. They were great places to hide, especially if you knew the owners well enough. And Toji knew each and every member of staff in this place; the managers, the bar staff, the girls.

And he knew a certain pretty little girl very well indeed.

Despite his many visits he never made any inappropriate advances, only paid to watch you dance. Maybe a lap dance every now and again if he was feeling particularly self gratuitous.

You share few words, but seem to have a mutual understanding of one another. You know that he loves watching you, and you’ve come to like his stern demeanour and surprisingly respectful attitude, enjoying his ability to scare off creepy customers. He’s kind of like your personal bodyguard at work. You feel lucky to have met him.

Unlike some of the halfwit scumbags that frequent the club, he’s a real man. From his assertive, deep tones, those muscles, perfect for manhandling little girls like you, and those sharp eyes, staring as if he wants your body as much as you want his.

But you have no idea what he does for work– he almost seems nocturnal.

Then you notice that he starts bringing someone else to the club.

His younger brother? His son? You can’t tell. But you know for certain that they’re related as soon as they step in together– their hair is styled differently, but is the same absolute black. The strobe lighting illuminates different colours in the younger man’s eyes, but they have the same glare. Their faces are a slightly different shape, but they have the same wicked smile.

How could there be two of him? One was already enough.

“Meet my son.”

Oh. He might be the same age as me. You think, studying his features– bags under his eyes, more height than muscle, cheeks slightly sunken.

His exchanges are awkward. He looks uncomfortable.

You offer him a dance, not knowing what else to do. You’re here to work, after all.

Toji pays for a private dance and you walk with his son to a booth, the older man giving him a wink and a devilish smile.

You draw the curtains and pause, looking at the way he’s fidgeting.

“Got a girlfriend?”

“No,” he replies tersely, narrowing his eyes.

You ask if he wants a lap dance, but he’s so hesitant that you just end up sitting next to him and chatting instead.

“So, do you enjoy working here?” he sounds less nervous now he’s gotten to know your name, at least.

“Yeah, nice customers for the most part, but the hours are pretty long.”

“Same with my job– the hours, I mean.”

“You don’t work with the public?”

“Sort of…” he trails off, dark eyes darting over your features.

You notice, despite your clothing revealing most of your body to him, that he’s focusing on your lips more than anything.

“You’re um,” he takes a long pause, dragging his gaze back to your eyes, “very pretty.”

How sweet. Your eyes widen slightly, a smile forming on your lips. You’re not used to sweet.

“Th-thank you.” you can’t help the stuttering– the way he’s looking at you with sudden intensity catches your tongue.

“Shall we–” you reach to open the curtain of the private booth, your arm caught in his strong grip, your body freezing.

“You– you can’t touch me–” does he not know that?

“Sorry” he retracts his hand, fiddling with his fingers.

“You change your mind or something?”

“No, I just wanted to… look at you, for a little longer,” you turn to face him again, “if that’s ok.”

So you nod and sit down.

He has a hungry look in his eyes now– he starts with your face, your eyes, in fact, making incredible, unwavering contact until you can’t take it, your pupils darting away to his amusement. Then he finds your mouth, and the way you’re chewing the inside of your cheek.

Then your neck, where he focuses intently on the slow thrum of your jugular. He licks his lips, making you squirm and wish he would’ve accepted the lap dance.

His gaze darts over the rest of your body and you watch the clock tick over to midnight, signalling fifteen minutes and the end of his private… whatever the fuck this was.

“Time’s up.” You stand and reach for the curtain, feeling his eyes remain over your figure as you step out and waltz back to the changing rooms.

You get off early tonight, having a final smoke with your colleagues when you see a text pop through from Toji. After exchanging numbers months ago, he barely contacts you, only asking where you are if you’re not at your regular shift.

[00:14] Toji

Come over?

You’re surprised he’s asking.

You’re tempted– after all, it is for Toji. You’ve been wanting him to reach out to you, thinking that he would’ve made his move much sooner. Every cell in your body is telling you not to do this, but you ignore the feeling, finding his hotel.

You enter the room– luckily for you, in a slightly nicer establishment than usual– still, one that is filled with the smell of alcohol and cannabis, the TV blaring on some late night gambling channel.

So they sit you down, welcoming you into their little games and bets, offering you hard liquor and joints till you’re tipsy.

After Toji’s multiple visits to your workplace, and seeing you at other clubs with your friends, he knows you’re into all kinds of drugs.

He caught you with white powder under your nose on one occasion, your pupils the size of the fucking moon another night, and with a blunt hanging out your mouth after work one evening.

He’s seen it all. He knows you’re a fiend. So… what’s the harm in pushing you a little further? Surely you can take it.

⁺⋆

Your eyelids are growing heavy, your body slumped on the floor against the coffee table while you stare at the TV in stupor. Their joints were just so packed it's nearly finished you off, and the last few drags tasted kinda funny.

“Can we tie her up now?”

You’re not sure if you heard that right, swivelling in the direction of the voice and blinking in disbelief.

You turn to find Toji with his legs spread wide, slouched back on the sofa where you left him, while the younger man stands holding some kind of cord in his hands.

Your eyes widen, your mind jolting awake when you see the way he pulls and grips it, stepping closer to you. Your body lags.

“Mm” Toji grunts, not taking his eyes off the TV.

Megumi takes this as permission to pull you up and drag you to the bedroom, your legs stumbling after your body, your mind succumbing to panic.

His hand tugs at your wrist, while you’re distracted by something strange in the edges of your vision. It’s subtle to start with, colours fading in where they weren’t before, shadows starting to move.

You try to ignore it, blaming the weed and flickering lights playing tricks on your mind.

You’re pulled from your daze when Megumi jerks your arms roughly, your vision readjusting to find yourself on the bed, your wrists forced to the frame in a tight knot of coarse, black rope.

“Mm– Megumi,” your voice comes out more slurred than you expected, confusion crossing your features, “w-what’re you doin’...”

“What does it look like?” He shoots back, his sharp tone making you recoil.

“I, I don’ know– jus’, w-where’s Toji?”

He watches your eyes dart about, enjoying your fearful expression.

You notice a sinister glint behind his indigo irises, his face looming closer and starting to cloud your vision.

You’re squirming now, pushing yourself up the bed, trying to distance yourself from him. But he keeps coming.

“Stay still…” he stops your motions with a single cool hand closing around your ankle, dark eyes trained on your throat again.

Time stops still when he leans in and places a single, chaste kiss over your neck.

He does it slowly. Gently. As if you’re the only one he’d kiss like this. His silent intensity makes you tremble.

He pulls away with a pleased hum, the feeling of your heartbeat making his lips tingle, his dark mess of hair illuminated with a dull halo.

He’s not too far gone. You could still go back.

“Y-you don’ have to do this,” you stumble, your voice cracking.

“I know,” he presses another kiss over your jaw, becoming ravenous now he can almost smell your fear, “but I want to…”

His voice disappears into the crook of your neck, where he starts sucking and tonguing.

He wants to taste you.

There’s a deep ache inside you now, gripping at your heart and filling your lungs, where it spreads to your throat– to where you can feel his mouth over you.

Nobody has ever kissed you like this before.

The way he sucks and bites is cruel, your body starting to flood with pain. If he does it any harder you’re sure he’s going to taste your blood. He’s going to puncture your neck and let it spill.

“M-megumi– please–” your whispered sobs only urge him on, till he’s dragging his canines over you and sinking them into the soft flesh.

His impassioned movements finally ebb as he switches to tending your marked skin with his tongue and lips, inhaling your scent deeply.

He sits up now, looking longingly into your tear stained eyes, his pupils drifting to where your lips are quivering with his name.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he lies, stroking your ankles gently.

Standing up, he watches you shake your head again, begging him not to go any further and that you’d anticipated being with Toji tonight, asking where he is again.

“He’s a little busy…” he cranes his neck to ensure his father is still transfixed by the TV.

“Plus, you should be grateful,” he tugs off his belt, “you get to take my virginity.”

Your eyes fly wide, your mouth dry and gulping for air stupidly.

Just the way he looks puts you on edge– and now you know he has no experience, you can’t begin to fathom what he’s going to do to you.

“Nn-no– thought, thought Toji w-w–”

His next movements are too swift for your idle, drug induced brain to comprehend.

He’s over you, your arms twisted uncomfortably above your head, his cock nudging at the sweet bud of your clit.

That’s the only ‘foreplay’ you’ll be treated to before he slots himself up against your tight, unprepped entrance, shoving your dress and panties aside.

“Toji!!!” you cry out for the older man, “Toji, god–” but your voice is interrupted, choked by his cock sinking into you, hard and deep.

The man before you has changed, his resting scowl paling in comparison to the now fierce arch of his eyebrows.

Why are you crying for his father when he has everything you need right here?

“Ah– haah—” you shake and squirm, struggling with his untamed, crude thrusting.

Your head flies back when he pushes deeper still, slowly working your raw pussy open to the shape of him, while he watches fresh tears trickling over your waterline and gathering beautifully in the corners of your wide, glassy eyes.

“Hm,” he lets a little laugh escape, enjoying your quiet sobbing and whimpering as he gets rougher and dirtier, grabbing and marking your skin.

Your arms start to jostle and tug in the bindings, your wrists aching from the pressure.

“Untie me…” you sniffle.

“Untie you? But I haven’t even got started yet…”

He wipes the tears from your cheeks with his thumb, trailing his hand down your face and stroking the marks on your neck.

“Might untie you after I hear you scream,” he gives you an experimental squeeze, then leans closer, bringing his face down next to yours.

The way he’s talking has you wondering if he really is a virgin, your thought quickly dispelled by his hedonistic thrusting.

You can hear his shaky breath in your ear now, your legs lifting instinctively when you feel him haphazardly pressing on your g-spot.

“Yeah, open up f’me,” he whispers, sucking on your earlobe, his free arm encircling your head to cage you in closer.

You can feel his hips start to jolt unevenly. He’s close.

“D-don– don’ cum inside,” you beg, your eyes getting bleary as he constricts your windpipe.

You feel him smirking over your skin, speeding up his ragged motions, squeezing.

Your pained breaths consume him, urging him to crush your throat with a look in his eyes that makes you believe he’s going to take your life.

His pale, beautiful face hovers above yours, eyes enrapt by every miniscule expression of terror that passes your features.

“S-s—”

Your voice is gone, you can only fight for breath now, your body succumbing to a helpless fit.

You struggle. Kicking. Hips bucking.

He drinks it all in, thrusting mercilessly now.

“You can’t do that to her.”

You hear a sudden deep, booming voice, hands pulled from your neck, air flooding your lungs as you sputter and cough.

Toji takes his son’s arms and bends them behind his back, restraining him instantly and pulling him off you; out of you.

He lets the sight sink in for a moment, words failing him.

Toji’s affected by the drugs and booze, but he can still get some kind of hold on this fucked up situation.

“Look. Just let me show you… what you’re supposed to do,” he drawls into the younger man’s ear before releasing him.

Sure, he needs to take responsibility. But he can’t let you go. Not yet.

You shake your head again, watching the younger man struggling with his achy, hard boner after being denied his first raw dogging orgasm.

His father readjusts you on the bed to his own liking, leaving you tied up and taking your thighs in his beefy hands. He dips his head low, lips skimming over your neglected clit.

“‘M feelin’ hungry…” he mutters, proceeding to swirl his tongue through your heat, where his son’s cock was digging moments ago, humming while parting your labia and licking sensually at your little jewel.

However done you are with this situation, overcome with lightheadedness from your choking, you’re glad to at least be sent reeling through a few much needed orgasms.

And now you’ve had a chance to breathe and relax a little, you’re becoming aware of a shift in your consciousness.

Your body is right here, in this moment, experiencing every fleeting detail in high definition. But your mind is somewhere else, overcome with a feeling of simultaneous presence and dissociation.

The older man sits up, patting the bed for his son to join him.

“You ok, doll?”

He watches you look around curiously, taking in the room that’s now bending and changing before you.

“Think the lsd’s kickin’ in…” he mutters, “just lay back, promise we’re not gunna hurt ya.”

“The-the what?” you stutter, your hands starting to tense and grip in the restraints.

“Look, there were a few drops of acid in that last wrap, jus’ relax, ok?”

Fuck. You knew you shouldn’t have come here.

You let it sink in, taking a deep breath so you don’t lose your cool. You cannot let your mind spiral on this drug.

“That’s it,” he encourages you, “good girl. Jus’ let go.”

You give up trying to fight it, obeying his gentle tones, working past the nausea to find your mind and body entering a different headspace.

Reality fades in and out, feeling their tongues on you, one after the other, switching and exchanging till you’re unaware of what’s happening to you.

You can only sense their touch, submitting your body to the chemical pleasure.

Your clothes are torn off now, soft, deep words being exchanged until you feel them shifting around.

You feel the unmistakable nudging of a hardened cock at your entrance once more. Only this time, it slips through your folds easily, your slick hole welcoming the long, hard member.

You blink slowly, your vision wobbling as your mind enters a trance in sync with their rhythm.

“Megumi?” no, “Toji?” you honestly can’t tell, your faculties slowly dulling as the powerful drug takes over.

You reach out your arms hoping to discern who’s inside you, only for their body to move away as another frame enters your view.

You feel his cock sink in, hips rolling and stimulating your senses till you’re creaming and moaning around his girth.

“T-tojii–” you’re sure it must be the older man. He feels strong, manhandling you and pushing you wider.

But he pulls away too soon.

You focus hard, seeing both of them now, one figure in front of the other, one man guiding, the other following.

“...like this… take her… deep…” you can only make out a few words, wide eyes distracted by the scar on his lips.

But the way Megumi’s cock slides in is completely different than before– the feral jackhammering transformed into long drags, smooth and hard.

They exchange words, Megumi’s movements getting greedier until you feel his body consuming yours in a display of lust and passion so strong you let out a scream of his name.

The sound of your voice, combined with the grip of your pussy that’s drenched with the slick of a fresh orgasm, rips a groan from his depths.

You hear him panting and moaning, his thrusts getting sloppy, until he’s drawn out of you again.

That was close. You think, realising his father pulled him away before he could spill inside you.

Things are getting blurry now. They’re both over you, on you, in you.

With the surreal visuals taking over, your mind enters another realm while they kiss and fuck and share your body.

Spiky black hair, blue and green eyes flashing, hard muscles and sadistic smiles are all you can see.

Their images burn into your retina, becoming a blurred mirage of nightmarish beauty.

A sight that you will never forget.

Now that Toji’s brought his son up to speed and you’re all wet, you honestly can’t tell who is who.

So you sink into it, enjoying the spiralling visions behind your closed eyelids while they draw waves of orgasmic pleasure from your body.

They bend and move you, pinning your legs back, pushing deeper, then onto your knees. You’re getting so absorbed in the trip now, the euphoric energy taking over, that you’re only partly aware that you’re being lifted.

You’re off the bed, you know that much.

You’re in a pair of strong arms. It’s Toji. You smile, your eyes clearing to see his roguishly handsome face before you.

“Hey pretty girl,” he places tender kisses over your lips, and you accept them with pleasure, “gunna try somethin’ fun now…”

You giggle, liking the sound of that very much.

He holds you, his massive cock melting into your core so deep he’s going to become a part of you, then slides his fingers over your ass.

You feel another body behind you. Megumi.

You turn, feeling his lips over you as well, murmuring sweet praise in your ear the whole while.

You feel him sliding over your ass now, through the wet juice of your pussy, pushing into the tight ring.

“Oh, oh my– fuck–” he edges in, his father thrusting slowly while urging him to be gentle.

“Haahhh–” you breathe out, your head falling back onto Megumi’s hard shoulder where he caresses your skin with his lips.

“That’s– that’s fucking good,” he hums in your ear, pushing himself all the way back while grabbing your ass.

They cradle you, thrusting in tandem, as you reach a new level of bliss.

Hearing them, feeling them takes you higher, until you can only sense their deep moans vibrating through you, the drag of their cocks.

Your thoughts turn slippery, losing focus on the world around you, wondering how you ended up here in the first place, realising that you don’t care.

Right now, you care about the man in front of you, tall and broad, scarred lip between his teeth with dark green eyes fixed on yours.

His ever sombre stare resides behind those fiery irises.

It captivates you.

Your body is convulsing with dopamine once more, slurred thank yous leaving your lips, and all you can concentrate on is counting the shades of green in his eyes.

Flecks of amber shimmer within the emerald, his lashes blinking slowly, eyebrows quirking.

“Watcha lookin’ at?”

“Mm, pretty,” is all you can muster at this time, earning a snort of laughter.

He mutters under his breath and starts taking you harder till you feel him pulling you off his son and pushing you down on the bed.

Your legs spread, wide and obedient, holding yourself by the knees while he takes your nipples between his lips, between his teeth.

“How many times s’that now?” he feels you clenching and bucking again.

You just giggle and sigh, stroking his obsidian strands in a dreamy state.

He hums with pleasure; you feel his nose dipping into your neck, where he places soft, gentle kisses, in contrast to his now animalistic pace.

Letting off hot grunts and moans, he finally spills his hot, wet cum.

He pulls away, his son entering your vision once more.

Angling your ass up, he guides himself in again, enjoying the way your tight muscle spasms around him, but takes him all nonetheless.

His hips get nasty, drawing whimpers from you until he nears his release, growling and sinking his teeth into your marked skin.

“Fuck– fuck–” you tug at his jet black spikes, encouraging him to take all he needs until you feel his hot load shoot deep into you.

“Ugh, oh princess– fuck me–” he sighs, strong muscles overcome with exhaustion as he watches your beautiful features relax once more.

You feel peaceful, watching the gentle rise and fall of his chest, the way his hair hangs over those dark eyes.

Your wavering vision absorbs his graceful figure in all his glory, your mouth opening before your brain catches up.

“Art” you poke at his hardened stomach, earning a slight smile, “artist.” You look up at his father now, appreciating the view as he stands before you.

You giggle, laying back and focusing on the ebb and flow of your breath, feeling your senses leave you, your eyes resting as you enter transcendental sleep.

⁺⋆

You wake to find your body bare, but clean.

There’s no longer white liquid oozing from you– just soft, warm sheets and the fresh smell of soap.

You climb out of the bed, stepping to the bathroom, eyes still half lidded and hazy.

You look in the mirror, finding kaleidoscopic visuals in the reflection, where the glass bends and trembles.

But you can see your face. Unscathed. Unharmed. You look down. It’s just a few bruises. You’re fine.

Despite their questionable methods, this has been a good trip… and you have to admit, a very good fuck.

So in your giddy state, you tiptoe out to the main room, watching their heads turn from the TV, grins emerging.

“Mornin’ honey,” Toji coos. It’s dark outside. You have no idea what time it is.

You step over to the sofa, sinking between the two men again, taking their lips and tongues while their hands roam and fondle your body.

You sit back, enjoying how they’re drawn to you magnetically, allowing their pleasure to fill your body once more while you ride out the most ethereal high of your life.

⋆⁺ [see you in hell]

toji | m.list

#magic.kinktober⋆⁺#kinktober #kinktober 2023 #toji fushiguro #toji fushiguro smut #megumi fushiguro #megumi fushiguro smut #tw: murder #tw: violent death #tw: violence #tw: sex work #tw: inc*st #tw: drugs #tw: dubious consent #tw: dubcon #tw: noncon #tw: sex #tw: sex mention

581 notes · View notes

thelov3lybookworm · 2 months

Note

Hello, there! First of all, i must say tha I love your writing style.

I had this idea on my mind, and I was wondering if you could write something about it.

It's an Eris x reader, where the reader is traveling from another world and falls in velaris, Eris finds her nearby, looking confused and trying to help her, but she can't understand his language.

I would love it if you'd write something like that, and I was hoping in a possible love triangle, with angst and happy ending for Eris.

Sorry for any mistake. I hope that you understand, English it's not my first language

Our World (part 1)

Summary: The dark opening in the sky.

•○●⛦●○•

A/n: lol i just realised that i forgot the language difference part so they are all talking to and understanding each other. also sorry for the delay 😭ive never written anything like this or even thought about it, so it was a lil bit of a challenge to write this, but we've at least started!

anyways

enjoy! ❣️

•○🌑○•

The weird, dark and gaping hole on the pavement looked weird. Like it did not belong.

Even under the night sky, in the alleyway shrouded in shadows, it looked sinister.

That did not stop Y/n from leaning close to inspect it.

And then, being her clumsy self, she could not stop herself from toppling into it.

•○🌑○•

The weird, dark opening in the night sky looked different, like it did not belong in the darkened sky.

Even in the moonless night, it looked sinister.

That did not stop Eris from trying to peer into it.

But it did stop Eris from advancing further when a noise started coming from it. Like someone screaming.

Not too long after, something- no, someone- fell from it.

Eris stared, bewildered, as the figure groaned, stretching out their limbs, lifting their head amid the fallen leaves in the dense forests of the night court.

He had been visiting Velaris for a meeting, and had decided to take a small walk to clear his mind of the bullshit Rhysand had spewed before he returned to the Autumn Court.

And then he had stumbled across the clearing that looked darker than its surroundings, and he had paused to wonder what abomination he would come across.

And now this- this creature, whatever it was, covered with a white cloth that barely reached their knee and a red, soft, velvet like hat on their head, had almost taken down Eris.

And then the creature moved some more, and Eris realised that it was a female. And by the looks of it, mortal. Though her beauty could rival that of the fae females' beauty.

Eris threw that thought to the back of his mind just as her eyes met his while she was trying to shove her hair out of her face.

Despite his curiosity, he gave her one of his disgusted sneers.

She did a double take, her eyes widening.

She stared and stared at Eris, her eyes bewildered. And then she stared some more, as if her eyes had been glued to his immaculately dressed form.

It made Eris a little uncomfortable, and that was saying something, as he was someone who was used to being stared at all the time.

When her eyes remained unwavering, he spat. "What?"

She blinked, her cheeks flushing. "I- you- were you in a play? Why are you dressed like that?"

He rose his brows, incredulous. "What the hell do you mean?"

She scrambled to her feet, and Eris looked away when her dress rode up a little.

Eris was disgusted with himself when he realised that his heart was beating a little faster.

"You- you're dressed up as some... some noble. Am I interrupting a play or something?"

Eris sighed, then walked over to her. "Who the hell are you? Why are you here in Prythian, cause you sure as hell look like you belong in some whore world."

The female gaped at him, her bright eyes enraged. "What the hell is wrong with you! Why would you say that?!"

Despite her angry words, she tugged on the ends of the rag she was wearing, subconsciously trying to cover up.

Before he could speak, leaves crunched behind Eris, and he rolled his eyes, hard, as he removed his jacket and draped it over the pretty female. He had just done adjusting it, trying to ignore her curious and angry eyes when he spoke.

"What is going on here?" The menacing form of the shadowsinger appeared from behind a tree, his wings flared slightly in a show of dominance. He glared at Eris. "Why are you not gone yet?"

"Those are wings!" The female behind Eris mumbled to herself in shock, but Eris ignored her.

Eris gave the shadowsinger a smirk. "Well, looks like we have a problem."

Azriel rose a brow, turning his eyes to the female behind Eris.

"Didn't know you had a thing for outdoor fucking Eris."

A strangled choke came from behind Eris, and it became harder to hide his amusement.

"What do you mean?!"

Azriel rose an unamused brow. "What, are you not being paid?"

"I- you- die!"

Azriel blinked, shocked. He glanced to Eris curiously. "Where'd you find her?"

"I'm trying to figure that out too."

Azriel opened his mouth to speak, but Eris shook his head. "I need to speak to Rhys."

Without much fuss, Azriel accepted.

"Let's go."

•○🌑○•

Taglist: @bubybubsters @eos-princess @nightless @harrystylesfan2686 @cassie6392 @kennedy-brooke @tele86 @miluiel1 @hnyclover @minnieoo @sidrapotter @piceous21 @mybestfriendmademe @berryzxx

Taglist: @fell-in-luvs @azrielsmate3

#eris x reader #eris vanserra x reader #eris vanserra #eris acotar #a court of thorns and roses #acotar fandom #acotar fanfic #acotar fluff #acotar series #acotar writing #a court of mist and fury #mating bond #sarah j maas #acotar headcanon #pro eris vanserra #acotar

216 notes · View notes

kirawaswrong · 1 year

Text

somewhere in the haze

summary: You made a mistake that nearly cost you your life. Now your boyfriend is pissed at you, and you're not completely sure why. Is there hope for reconciliation?

pairing: chuuya nakahara x female! reader

genre: slight angst, smut

word count: 4k+

warnings: MDNI!! starts angsty but then...., fingering, oral (fem receiving), soft dom chuu [kinda], bratty reader [a bit], aka I finally am dipping my toes into smut, also depictions of stabbing

note: I wrote smut, ya’ll!!! But being me, there is a story too. Dealing with big emotions and all that jazz. I hope you enjoy!

Getting ready for work wasn’t usually an arduous affair. You had it down to a routine, and even made an event of it. While cooking breakfast, you were a celebrity chef. When taking a shower, you’d give the concert of a lifetime. But today, nothing was making it easier. It was your first day back in over a month. It should have been a cause for celebration. But you were in a fight with your boyfriend.

The previous night's events played on repeat in your head while you put your clothes on. You brushed your teeth, and all you could think of was Chuuya's furrowed brow. The fight made you see the past month in a new light. You felt stupid for not realizing his feelings sooner.

You were working on a solo assignment. It was pretty standard, and in fact, one you’d done several times before. It was security for a jewelry store. The store turned a blind eye to the Port Mafia's illegal jewelry ring. In return, sometimes they'd request a member come by and watch over the place.

It was late at night. It seemed like a rare uneventful day was about to pass by. But then a tall, slender man tried to enter the store after hours. You knew you could take him, so you chased him to the roof. Before he could turn, you socked him in the back of the head. He fell immediately, out cold.

You were sure you’d incapacitated him enough to call for someone to assist you in disposing of him. As soon as your back was to him, an arm wrapped around your throat. Pain shocked your lower abdomen; he'd stabbed you. He called you a dumb bitch before removing the knife and throwing you to the ground.

With a shaky hand, you reached for your phone. The warm ooze of your blood made it too difficult to maneuver it to call for help. Your wound went from feverish to frigid, and the edges of the world got a lot fuzzier. As you faded, you thought of the hardships you’d faced and how you finally felt like you belonged somewhere. And now you were gonna die on top of a shitty building.

Your last thoughts were of Chuuya, and how you hoped he wouldn’t have to see your corpse. Then, everything went black.

---

But the Port Mafia had your back. You awoke with a sharp ache in your stomach and a heaviness in your head. Before even blinking your eyes open, you knew you were in the organization’s medical wing.

“You’re awake.”

The voice that spoke was one you knew well but never failed to slice a shiver down your spine.

You forced your eyes open. Mori Ougai stood like a shadow by your bed. His hands clasped behind his back. He held an almost bored expression as if your stabbing was a mild inconvenience to him.

“Hi boss,” you said. You tried to sit up to formally address him but hissed in pain.

“Refrain from unnecessary movements for the time being,” He said. “The blade nicked your appendix, so I took the liberty of removing it for you.”

Wow, a surprise appendectomy. How thoughtful.

“We’d received no communication from you in some time,” Mori said. “So it was clear you were in danger. If you’d lost one more liter of blood, you would be dead. That’s why I started a transfusion.”

You looked down to see an IV in your inner right arm. Blood came from a bag, and you knew better than to question its origins.

This wasn’t the first time you’d woken up in the medical wing, nor would it be the last. But usually, someone else was at your bedside.

“So,” you said, “Where is-?”

“Chuuya will be here shortly,” Mori interrupted. “He wasn’t notified until it was certain whether you would live or die.”

You weren’t surprised. If Chuuya knew the extent of your injuries, he’d tear the world apart to be there. From Mori’s perspective, wherever Chuuya was had more importance than being with you.

“For now, continue to rest,” Mori smiled in a way that was supposed to offer comfort. “If there are no complications, you can go home tomorrow.”

“What about work?” You blurted out.

“We’ll discuss the matter later.”

Mori administered more pain medication and left the room. Before you could think about much else, the drugs knocked you into a hazy sleep. At some point, you swore you heard muffled voices outside the room. Your eyes were too heavy to open, but you felt a warm gloved hand holding your own. You slept deeper after that.

---

The next day, you went home. Naturally, Chuuya took you to his place. Resting was imperative to your recovery, and you had trouble with that sometimes.

Once at the penthouse, Chuuya set you up in the guestroom. When you weren’t recovering from a knife wound and impromptu surgery, you were used to sleeping with him in his bed. You thought that he was afraid of impeding the healing process.

Once you were comfortable in the bed, he told you to stay put.

“If you don’t,” he said, “I’ll use my ability on you.”

His crooked smile and delivery of the threat told you it was a joke. But there wasn’t much joy behind his eyes. You made a noise somewhere between a laugh and a cough.

That set the tone for your stay. You weren’t completely oblivious. Something was wrong with Chuuya. He went through the motions of aiding in your recovery. He helped you bathe, changed your dressings, and made sure you took your medicine. But the other times Chuuya rehabilitated you, he’d be smirking and telling jokes. When you worried, he'd give you soft kisses. This time, he was more…sterile.

You told yourself that it was because of how close to death you were this time. And in a way, you were right.

A week later, you had a partial return to work. Though your wound had superficially healed, internal damage was still possible. So you were stuck doing nothing but paperwork. You fucking hated it. Everyone at the Port Mafia had to deal with papers, but not hour after hour, day after day. You felt like a glorified secretary. You were eager to go on missions again.

When you shared those thoughts with Chuuya, you received a slight nod and silence. It was odd, as your perseverance and enthusiasm were what had attracted him to you in the first place.

A few weeks later, Mori told you that you would be able to return to full-time duties the following day. Though it was exciting, you felt deflated. Chuuya had been so distant, you didn’t want to tell him. He was an executive, so the odds were he already knew.

That night after dinner, he confirmed your suspicions. At the table, you nonchalantly said you were nervous and excited to leave paperwork duty. Chuuya’s expression darkened, and he sighed. You decided it was time to rip off the bandaid.

“That was a pretty heavy sigh.”

He said nothing.

“What’s up?”

“I don’t think you should go back yet,” he said.

It was your turn to sigh. “Look, babe. I know it was a pretty serious injury, but I’ll be fine.”

“It’s not about that. I think we should go over training again.”

“Chuuya, I’ve been in the mafia for almost a year now,” you said. “Training ended a long time ago.”

“Well, maybe you need a refresher course,” he said in a venom-soaked tone.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Everyone knew Chuuya was an explosively angry man. His yelling was nothing to scoff at, but it wasn’t out of the ordinary. What most people didn’t know was how terrifying it was when he was quiet.

“I never thought you would be so reckless. Turning your back on an opponent while on a solo mission. Didn’t even call for backup or anything.”

You felt like a stone sank into your stomach. The other shoe dropped. He was…angry at you.

“I tried,” you sputtered. “But the blood was coming out, and I-”

“You should have called for someone as soon as you saw the guy.”

“He was a beanpole,” you said. “I thought I could take him!”

“He might not have been alone. What would you have done then?”

You were at a loss for words. “I just…I-”

“You got cocky,” Chuuya finished. “Which is exactly what I’ve warned you against since day one, haven’t I? Don’t get a big head, and never turn your back on anyone. Especially if you’re alone!”

“So, what, am I the only person who’s ever made a mistake?” You spat back.

“You can’t afford to make mistakes like that,” his voice rose. “You make those mistakes, you die!”

“You think I don’t know that?” You exclaimed. “That’s all I could think about on the roof!”

“Good,” Chuuya said. “Hold onto that feeling. Next time you’re on a mission, you can think of it. Then you'll remember to cover your ass and you won't pull something like that again.”

A tense silence hung over the room. You were both heated and so angry. You knew better than to say anything. Having the last word would be a petty thing to worry about.

But anger made you a petty person.

“Fine,” you said. “I will remember that feeling. When I go out on the field tomorrow.”

Chuuya scoffed. “I don’t want you to go back out yet!”

“So sorry, Mr. Nakahara,” your voice dripped with sardonic respect. “I know I made you and the rest of the higher-ups look bad, but I have to get back to doing my job.”

You got up from the table and began to storm from the kitchen. Two steps later, Chuuya’s hand wrapped around your forearm.

“We’re not done talking.”

“I am,” you said.

He turned you around to face him. Anger still filled his eyes, but his jaw wasn’t quite as clenched.

“You can’t just run away from this,” he said. His voice softened to the slightest degree. “I’m not saying this as your superior. As someone who cares about you, I don’t know if you’re ready to go back out there yet. Is that so hard to understand?”

You wanted to agree with him. Fall into his arms, and put the whole mess of a fight behind you. But pride was something you shared with Chuuya.

“I’m going in tomorrow,” you said. “And you won’t stop me.”

After a moment, he let your arm go.

You packed your things and came into the living room with a suitcase. Without a word, Chuuya helped you put everything in his car. Neither of you spoke on the drive. The silence was relentless in the parking lot. When you left the car, he finally spoke.

“Be careful.”

You gave a nod and headed into your building.

---

Which led to your first day back. A day that should have been celebratory, but was now marred with grey.

Besides a few passing remarks from colleagues, no one made a big deal about your recovery or return. It was the mafia. People pulled through from worse injuries all the time.

You had no solo assignments that day, which you were thankful for. Not because of fear, but because it was easier to shut your mind off and focus. You did keep your word and were very careful.

During downtime, the argument swirled around in your head. Chuuya trusted you. He knew that you were well-trained. Why would he say you weren’t ready to go out on your own anymore?

The end of the day came. When you got to your car, he leaned against it with his arms crossed.

You weren’t sure if you felt relieved or annoyed.

“Can we talk?”

You sighed. “Yeah.”

He slid into the passenger’s seat with you in the driver’s.

For a moment, he said nothing. Both of you stared forward. You were starting to wonder why the two of you had so many tense silences in cars.

“So,” you said. “You wanted to talk.”

“You didn’t get hurt today,” he said.

“No, I didn’t.”

“Good.”

Another silence.

“Look, Chuuya-”

“I didn’t mean what I said.”

You turned to him. “Okay?”

“You’re good at your job,” he said, turning to you. “I’d be an idiot not to know that.”

“Then why did you make me feel like I don’t know what I’m doing?” You asked.

He sighed, leaning his head back on the seat. “Babe…You almost died.”

“Yeah, I know that, but–”

“No, you almost died. It scared the hell out of me.”

You didn’t know what to say.

“I know anyone could fuck up and wind up dead,” he continued. “But you’re not just anyone.”

His eyes were on you. He reached over the console to hold one of your hands in both of his.

“I don’t wanna lose you.”

Your resolve melted like a puddle. “Why didn’t you just say this like a month ago?”

He chuckled without humor. “I was afraid I’d blow up at ya.”

“Thank god that didn’t happen,” you deadpanned.

“I am sorry,” he said. “Look, either of us could die any day.”

“Is this supposed to make me feel better?”

“It’s the truth,” he said, squeezing your hand. “But I need you to do everything you can to keep yourself alive.”

His eyes shone with sincerity, and your lingering anger evaporated.

“Only if you promise to do the same,” you said. “I’m sorry for worrying you.”

He pulled you across the console and held you against his chest. You embraced each other for what seemed like an eternity before he broke the silence.

“Wanna come to my place tonight?”

---

With the fight resolved and put behind you, it was easy to return to the domesticity you’d both grown accustomed to. Chuuya ordered takeout from one of your favorite restaurants. Throughout the meal, his eyes couldn't stay off of you.

After dinner, you sat on the couch together, barely watching an old sitcom rerun. Your back was against his torso, and his arms wrapped around your waist. You chattered on about your first day back.

“...And then Higuchi kept trying to get Akutagawa’s attention even though I’ve told her a thousand times that he–Chuuya!”

He’d leaned forward to kiss the side of your neck.

“Go ahead,” He murmured against your delicate skin. “I’m listening.”

You made an earnest attempt of continuing your story. Chuuya thwarted it by nibbling and sucking below your ear.

“Y-you’re distracting me,” you fought the urge to moan.

“Am I?” He chuckled.

You gasped as his hands crept down to your thighs, gently pulling them further apart. His dick began to harden against your back.

“I’ve just been thinking, baby,” he murmured. “Between your injury and our fight, there’s a lot of things we haven’t been able to do in a while. Wanna start doing them again tonight?”

You answered with a breathless whimper and he kneaded his fingers on your thighs. His touches crept closer to the heat pooling between your legs.

But then, he stopped his movements and rested his chin on your shoulder.

“Only if you want to,” he said. “No pressure, okay?”

You turned your head to smooch his cheek.

“I do want to,” you breathed. “I really want to.”

---

In previous instances of lovemaking, Chuuya could be a bit rough. This benefitted both of you. It helped him work out some of his aggression. And for you? Well, you found it hot.

But tonight, he placed you gently in the middle of the bed. His eyes remained locked with yours as he removed his waistcoat and pants. He joined you on the soft sheets, framing one of your thighs with both of his. He tangled a gloved hand in your hair and then leaned down to kiss you. His lips pressed onto your lips, your heart thunked against your ribs. Warmth bloomed from your chest and spread throughout your entire body. You wrapped your arms around his waist, pulling him closer. Chuuya rubbed his knee against the heat between your legs, causing you to moan into his mouth.

He broke the kiss, a smirk across his lips.

“You okay?” He asked, stroking your cheek with his thumb.

“Yeah,” you gasped. His knee still rested squarely against your crotch. “I’m very much okay.”

He chuckled. “Tell me if that changes, got it?”

You nodded. Before you could verbally respond, he moved his thumb from your cheek to your lips.

“Would you take this off for me, sweetheart?”

You opened your mouth and gingerly bit the tip of the glove. He pulled his hand back, releasing it from the leather.

He took the glove from you, planting a quick kiss on your lips.

“Thank you.”

“No problem,” you responded, trying to pretend your face wasn’t burning hot.

His next target was your collarbone. You’d have hickeys by morning with the way he sucked and scraped his teeth against the soft expanse of skin. He untucked your shirt, slipping his hand underneath and up your torso. Your nipples responded to his touch from beneath the fabric of your bra.

“We gotta level the playing field, babe,” he playfully admonished against your neck.

“Hmm?”

“I’m practically naked,” he said. “And here you are, still fully clothed. Doesn’t seem fair.”

You snorted. Chuuya wore so many layers of clothing that being in a dress shirt and boxers really was close to nudity for him.

“I see your point,” you said.

You pushed him off, sitting up and pulling your shirt over your head. A smug grin played on your lips when you saw the way he looked at you. Even in your everyday bra, he still made it seem like you wore the most mouthwatering lingerie he’d seen in his life.

“Better?” You asked.

He wrapped an arm around you, pulling you close and kissing you again.

“Almost,” he murmured against your lips.

And with one hand, he unclasped your bra.

“Chuuya!” You laughed out a reprimand. The impressiveness of the act outweighed any embarrassment. Still, you held the garment against your chest.

“What?”

“I’d hardly call this an even playing field,” you said.

“Semantics,” he scoffed, waving a hand. “Now, get your fuckin’ arms outta the way, would ya?”

You playfully rolled your eyes but did as he said, and removed the bra completely.

He laid you back on the bed, hovering over you. Mindfully keeping his weight off of you, he grasped your breasts. His mouth found your right nipple, sucking on it hard while his gloved hand played with the left.

With a moan, your head rolled back onto the pillow. When he switched to the left nipple, you raised up to look at him. He'd closed his eyes, and he seemed to be at peace with everything in the world.

“Enjoying yourself, Chuu?” You teased.

His eyes shot open, and his face rivaled his hair in redness.

“Yeah,” he said after dislodging from your breast. “And I bet I’m not the only one.”

His bare hand traced down your torso and into your pants. He traced a finger against your panties, feeling the soaked-through fabric.

“You’re pretty wet,” he said. “Want me to do something about it?”

“Uh-huh,” you gasped.

“Aw, where’d that smart mouth of yours go, babe?”

You narrowed your eyes, saying nothing.

He chuckled but relented by pushing your panties aside. He slid his finger down your slit before plunging two fingers inside. The fingers crooked inside you in the most delicious way.

“Now, tell me,” he said, continuing to work you from the inside. “Is there anything else you want me to do to you?”

“Y-yes,” you stammered.

“And, uh,” he stroked your shoulder with a gloved finger. “What exactly would that be?”

You fought to form a sentence. “I think you already know.”

He smirked, looking at you from beneath his lashes. “Yeah, I have a pretty good idea. But I wanna hear you say it.”

“Chuuya,” you whined. “Please.”

“C’mon, pretty girl. Use your words. I’ll take good care of ya if you do.”

The way he was using his damn words–and his fingers–was driving you crazy.

You drew in a shaky breath and looked straight into his eyes.

“I want you to make me cum on your tongue.”

His smirk intensified and placed a kiss on your cheek.

“Good girl. Now, was that so hard?”

“Yeah, yeah,” you said. “Quit teasing and put your mouth to better use.”

“Hey now,” his tone playfully darkened. He withdrew his fingers from your core and lewdly sucked them dry. “Don’t forget who’s in charge here.”

You rolled your eyes. “Sorry, Chu.”

He muttered something that sounded suspiciously like “brat” and sat back on his heels. He removed his other glove, tossing it aside. He peeled off your pants and discarded your underwear.

Your eyes lingered on the ceiling while his gaze raked over your nude body. The intensity of his eyes tracing over every inch of you was something you weren’t sure you’d ever get used to. His thumb smoothed over the raised skin of the new scar that brandished the skin above your right hip.

“Look at me,” he said.

He rewarded you with a lovestruck smile when you did what he said.

“You’re fuckin’ beautiful, y’know?”

“Yeah, my boyfriend’s mentioned it from time to time,” you giggled.

“I’ll tell ya every day if I have to.”

He put a pillow beneath your hips to elevate you and then began to settle himself between your legs. He tossed his hair over his shoulder to get it out of his way. His arms wrapped around your legs, and his hands pressed into the soft flesh. He pressed kisses to your inner thigh, inching closer to where you desperately wanted him.

His face was mere centimeters from your center. His blue eyes locked onto your face. He ran his tongue over his top lip.

And then he kissed the other thigh.

“Chuu, come on!” You whined. “You’ve kept me waiting long enough.”

He tsked under his breath. “Be patient.”

“I have been,” you argued.

“You’re gonna get what you want,” he reasoned. “I promised you that, didn’t I?”

You sighed, leaning your head back against the pillow.

“Yeah, you did,” You grumbled. “But I thought, you know, it’d be some time tonight and wouldn’t take forever-oh!”

In your exasperation, you failed to notice the devilish look on Chuuya’s face as he dove in to lick your slit firmly. He ended it with a flick to your clit with the tip of his tongue.

When you returned your gaze to him, the sight was almost too much to bare. His eyes danced with gloating. Your thighs framed his handsome face.

The admiration turned into more ecstasy as he continued.

He gave you another unyielding lick and then began to suck on your clit. You moaned shamelessly, burying your hands in his hair. When you tugged at his roots, his groan reverberated into you in the most wonderful way. Spurred on, he shoved two fingers back inside of you.

It was clear you wouldn’t last long. His tongue curled around your clit now, with the tips of his fingers crooking against you from the inside. Your eyes slammed shut and your mouth gaped open. Sparks flew in the darkness of your vision. And before long, you came while crying his name.

His mouth continued to work you through it. On the onset of overstimulation, you whined and pulled his hair harder.

Chuuya pulled away with a lopsided grin. “Tapping out already?”

Too dazed to shoot a quip at him, you nodded with a grin of your own.

He released your legs, paused to gently kiss your scar, and made his way up your body. His lips met yours again, and you could taste yourself on his tongue.

“I’ve missed you,” he said, resting his forehead against yours. “Missed this too.”

“Same here,” you murmured.

Though the moment was tender, your heart was still racing. Reuniting with Chuuya made you feel so relieved. And he made you feel safe, loved, and taken care of.

But you couldn’t help but notice how hard his dick was against your thigh.

Your hand reached down and palmed the outside of his boxers, earning a stuttering gasp from him.

“Now we gotta take care of you.”

#chuuya x reader #bungou stray dogs smut #chuuya smut #chuuya nakahara x reader #bsd x reader #bsd smut #bungo stray dogs x reader #bungo stray dogs smut #bungou stray dogs x reader #mine #chuuya bsd #bsd chuuya #not sfw

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crow-raven-crow · 3 months

Note

Hi,

I was wonder if it would possible if you could write a Brienne of Tarth x fem!reader? Where Brienne returns to winterfell after being away after a while and she sees reader once again. Fluff and maybe some soft smut.

Please and thank you.

𝐀𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬, 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐘𝐨𝐮..

𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭 - [𝐧𝐬𝐟𝐰 𝟏𝟖+]

✧･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧ :══════⊹⊹══════: ✧･ﾟ｡˚☾.･✧

𝐁𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐓𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐡 𝐱 𝐊𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐟!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: ~4k 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐜 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬/𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭: FLUFF !!, soft love, established relationship, SMALL angst, slight anxiety/dread, COMFORT, nsfw, vaginal fingering, oral sex, literally like the softest smut i think ive ever written, LOL DONT EXPECT ACCURACY AHAH

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: see above

𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

AO3 link in title ✧･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧ :══════⊹⊹══════: ✧･ﾟ｡˚☾.･✧

✧･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧ :══════⊹⊹══════: ✧･ﾟ｡˚☾.･✧

You hurried inside the Guards Hall of Winterfell, the heavy wooden door creaking on its hinges before nearly slamming shut with the frigid wind of winter. The ancient stones of the castle caused your steps to echo down the corridor, a sigh of relief leaving you with the warmth that enveloped you, as you made your way down the hall. The blazing torches casted a golden light along the walls, allowing shadows to dance against it, penetrating the white beams of light that bounced off the snow outside.

Your furs clung to you, adorned with the sigil of House Stark, and gave you some solace from the fangs of winter. Your face was flushed and slightly damp from the light spray of falling snow, and the immediate heat was slowly becoming too much as you took your gloves off.

You ventured deeper into the heart of Winterfell, seeking comfort in the quarters you shared with your blonde knight, even if she was gone on her own mission. The torchlight guided your way deeper into the hall, your own shadow kissing each flame as muffled murmurs of others made the fortress feel more alive.

As you approached the main room at the end of the hall, your now uncovered hands reaching into your pockets for your key, you threw nods and smiles at your fellow guards, getting bows of their heads and small smiles in return. What once filled you with fear and insecurity now felt like nods of approval, reminding you of how far you've come as a knight, for it takes a certain amount of trust and skill to work directly with a kingdoms head family.

When you first settled in Winterfell, their curious and sinful stares were never far behind, making you question both your worth as a guard and as a lady, but it didn't take long for them to come face to face with the fire that burned within you. It earned you your respect amongst them, the common goal to protect those of Winterfell, the common goal that you had shown them time and time again. You no longer were just any other woman in their eyes, and the same was true when Brienne came into the picture.

It didn't take long for the two of you to become close, even if it did take a while to push past her walls. If anything, her arrival strengthened your place within the ranks and made your bond stronger with all of those in Winterfell, especially the Starks. They knew you as their head family guard, and you've seen each other in different contexts over the years, but there was a certain softness that Brienne brought to you that they never thought they would see. You both suffered through very similar things, and though those were things you both bonded over, you couldn't help but want to give Brienne the world that she didn't think was possible. You had completely fallen for her, and thinking back to where you both had started always brought a smile to your face.

As you stepped into your quarters, it was as though the heavy mask of your role had come off, your shoulders relaxing as a breath you didn't know you were holding came out as well. In quick, practiced movements, you discarded the layers of furs that were draped over you, revealing a simpler armor set underneath. The sound of your shuffling filled the quiet room, your gloves being placed onto a side table and the small clicks of your armor coming off rang through the room. You turned towards your armor stand, placing each plate into its home and your scabbard with its belt along side it. As your fingers softly traced along the Stark sigil, you made a mental note to polish the pieces later.

You moved deeper into the room to start a fire, grabbing each log and meticulously placing them before a comforting glow lit the chamber's stone walls. It's golden hues reflected in the armor across the room, making you take a moment to really appreciate where you were at. Thoughts of Brienne began to fill your mind, tugging on your heartstrings and making the room feel much lonelier than it was moments before. It's been over a month since you've seen your knight, and you forced yourself to push through each day just as you knew she was.

When you stood, your bones suddenly feeling much heavier, you grabbed the pile of letters she had sent you over the course of her mission. You brought them over to your bed, spreading them out in small piles before sifting through each one. Your fingers traced the weathered edges, imagining what she had seen in each place she stopped, imagining her writing each one at the end of her day after all the others had turned in for the night.

You scanned over her most recent one, your fingers tracing the inked lines as though you had watched those words appear on the paper. She would be home soon, she had said so herself, and the idea sparked hope within you… but you knew how quickly the duties as a knight could change, that caution tempering the hope that begged to rage on in your chest.

With a deep breath, you let your emotions settle, taking in the written words from your lover as though they were prayers you were to memorize, reading each sentence with her voice echoing in your head like a siren beckoning you out to sea - something you would fall for again and again, if it meant that you'd get to go back to her.

As though the gods were listening, the resonant toll of the bell echoed all throughout Winterfell, cutting through the frigid air. Its deep tones rumbled through your chest, bringing you to your feet. All your actions froze as you listened for the bell, your heart threatening to burst when you realized it was from the East Gate. The room transformed into a flurry of movement as you quickly ran to gather your scabbard and rapidly tied the baldrick around your hips, before running out the door. In your haste, you had forgotten all about the snow as the outside world became a blur, your only focus being the possibility that Brienne was finally home.

The echo of your footsteps against the stone floor quickly morphed into the loud crunch of snow beneath your feet as you left the Guard's Hall and rushed toward the East Gate. The air bit at your exposed skin and made every breath you took in sharp, but the hope that your lover was just feet away overshadowed any ounce of discomfort that you could've possibly felt, easily flooding your body with adrenaline.

You waited with some of the other villagers and guards in the courtyard, some of them noticing you buzzing with excitement and clouded over in focus, as your eyes were fixed on the opening gates. You watched with a pounding heart as families were reunited, as guards made their way to the stables, as traveling merchants moved in the direction of the nearest inn. Your eyes darted from face to face, taking in who they were before moving onto the next.

Your hands fiddled with the rings on your fingers, you body feeling all too hot and your hands all too sweaty as though you weren't standing in the snow. You stood with the feeling of your heart growing heavy, with the feeling of your throat slowly starting to close, as the crowd dispersed just as quickly as it had appeared. You waited with the burning hope that you had gotten stuck with, even as other guards shot your their apologetic glances, even as Catelyn Stark squeezed your arm in comfort, as the crowd grew smaller.

A heaviness took over your body, making your shoulders sag and a sadness fill your eyes as the quick realization came over you: she wasn't there. As though it was your post, you waited for the crowd to clear because, after all, you were still a knight of Winterfell.

Just as the gate looked like it was about to close, it stilled, freezing for a moment before opening back up again. It's loud creaks gained the attention of the ones walking away, the ones filled with the same disappointment and aching heart as you were. A rumble of life passed through it just as the one that came before - a smaller group of more returning home, crossing the threshold into Winterfell. Your heart felt as though it had been revived, those around you watching your demeanor change, as your eyes began to light up with hope all over again.

Amidst the glowing faces of excitement, a distant glimmer of gold caught your eyes, drawing your attention to farther down the path. The crowd around you seemed to blur into the background as you held onto the potential promise that coursed through your veins. Every second closer intensified the rapid thud of your heart, drowning out everything else and nearly bursting at the sight of Brienne mounted on her horse.

The snowflakes seemed to dance around her, an ethereal glow radiating from her that would make even the newest gods jealous. Her brows furrowed as she scanned the crowd with an intense focus, the height from atop her horse making it all the more easier to catch sight of you. You watched as she seemed to relax, your shared gaze lifting the weight of separation that had been dragging you both down.

As Brienne dismounted her horse, the onlookers smiled and instinctively cleared a path as your body moved on its own. They had all seen you fall for each other one way or another, and you always knew this would be a piece of your home when they always seemed to cheer you both on.

The distance between you two came to a quick close, your hearts beating against each other just as fiercely as your smiles when she lifted you into her arms. Brienne's hands, strong yet gentle, found their way to your hips as she placed you down. Your arms wrapped around her neck, pulling her as close as possible, as though the action would make all the time spent apart fizzle away. The cold touch of her armor made a shiver run through you, but it was quickly ignored as you relished in the feeling of being back in her arms.

Her hands smoothed their way up your sides, creating a path of electricity along your body, before she softly cupped your face. Your hands found their place on the backs of hers, your thumbs tracing along her knuckles, as your eyes jumped between her own. You could always find a way to get lost in Brienne's eyes, the deep, defined blues always swirling with layers of emotions and unspoken words.

She leaned down slightly, a small laugh leaving your lips, before she closed the distance between you two. Her lips pressed against yours in a way that translated thousands of words - a soft, tender kiss that you had longed for since the day she left. You felt her lips curve into a smile, a sigh leaving her, as she felt you step just a bit closer.

When Brienne pulled away, the closeness lingered as she rested her forehead against your own, your hot breaths turning into steam the moment they met the cold air. It was as though the world around you seemed to hold its breath - the falling snow, the ancient stones, the depths of Winterfell baring witness to the love you held for each other.

"Hello, my love.." The sound of her voice made a choked sob leave you as tears suddenly formed in your eyes. The voice you thought about, the voice you were apart from, the voice you fell in love with was finally back to gracing your ears. She was always gentle with you, even if she knew you could handle your own, but she treated you with the softness, with the love that you never thought anyone in the Seven Kingdoms could give you.

"Hello, my Brienne.. I'm so glad you're back," your voice was nearly a whisper, showing the wear and tear that the time without her has brought to you.

"Always, for you. I'll always come back to you." If it was at all possible, it seemed as though your smiles only widened, the tell-tale blush lingering on both of your faces as you both finally broke away from the crowd.

It was easy for you both to move back to your shared quarters, your movements together still like second nature even after the amount of time that had passed. You had a bath ready for her by the time she had come back from the stables, and you helped her take her armor off as you talked about her travels.

Just as you were about to start polishing your armor, you felt her hands wrap around your waist and pull you against her front. Sweet kisses were placed on one of your shoulders, before you felt her hold tighten. You turned around in her hold, bringing one of your hands up to move her gaze to your own. After a silent question, her eyes only softened, her fingers starting to trace absent minded patters under your shirt before she spoke.

She leaned in, stealing another kiss from you. It was longer than the one in the courtyard, now that you were away from the eyes of all. You chased her for another as she pulled away, earning you a satisfied smile. Her lips rested just centimeters above yours, her words coming out in a whisper, "I love you."

The words echoed in your soul like ones you never planned to forget, her voice filling your body with an electricity that no one else could charge, that no one else could even come close to causing. It made your cheeks flush as though you had heard those words for the first time, but who could blame you when she looked at you like you had painted the sky with your own hands.

"I love you too.." It came out soft, yet eager to fill her ears. You watched as those words alone seemed to settle her, grounding her in her spot and reminding her that she truly was home with you. She placed one last kiss against your lips, before heading towards the bath.

When she came back to the room, seemingly refreshed and in her robe, she stopped in her tracks and watched you in the candle light. You had taken the opportunity to change into something else, or something less, as the golden hues radiated off your skin as if you were a god. The sheer robe you adorned left little to the imagination, the dark colored undergarments seeping through the thin fabric and revealing the perfect hold they had on your body.

She walked closer, her movements unknown to you as you cleaned up the rest of the table, until one of the floorboards creaked and gave her away. You turned towards her quickly, the sound making you jump, before your expression morphed into a smile. The action had made your robe fall off one of your shoulders, something that didn't go unnoticed by the knight, as her eyes lingered over the expanse of your exposed skin.

She was quick to bring you closer, your bodies glowing in the radiating warmth of the flames. She kissed you in that light, in the warmth that welcomed her home. You lived in the way she made you feel, the energy of the gods running through the both of you as all your emotions ran through each kiss.

Everything felt right, at peace, at home, like everything else was able to melt away for what felt like the first time in forever as you stood in each others hold, as your lips connected again and again. There was a glow that you both adorned that wasn't present before, one that had slowly dulled as the days apart grew longer, but one that reawakened and was ever burning for as long as you had each other.

As each kiss ran soft, the next came back more wanting. Your hands circled around her neck, keeping her close and playing with the soft strands of her hair. Her own had slipped under your robe, tracing over the skin that she had longed to touch again, leaving goosebumps in every path she took.

You walked her back towards the bed, undoing the tie of her robe before she sat down. You slowly moved to your knees, resting between her legs, your lips trailing down her neck as your hands freely roamed her body. You took your time worshiping her, leaving light scratches along her hips and thighs or bringing more attention to her chest with your lips.

You listened as her breathing grew heavier the closer you got to her breasts, a heavy sigh and a deep hum leaving her lips after you licked over her right bud, capturing it in your mouth soon after. You felt her squirm under your touch, her robe slipping down her shoulders and exposing more of her to you.

After showering her breasts in attention, your lips made their way down to her thighs, being sure to kiss and bite every curve of muscle your knight gave you. One of her hands ran through your hair as you kissed down one of her thighs, using her other as support to lean back and expose more of herself to you. The smell of her arousal made the coil in you tighten, and the sight of her blown pupils only proving to you how good she was feeling.

As you kissed up her other leg, you brought one to rest on your shoulder, and you felt your own arousal begin to pool between your legs at the sight of her soaked core. You kissed along her slit, your touch featherlight and causing broken whimpers to leave the blonde, before running your tongue through her folds.

She threw her head back, a deep moan leaving her lips as her back arched. Your pace was sickly slow to her, your tongue working in and out of her entrance as the flame within her only grew larger.

Her fingers made their way into your hair, pulling on the strands and making a moan escape your lips. The vibrations only pleased her in more ways than one, her hips bucking at the sound. You took the opportunity to move your tongue to her clit, circling the sensitive bud and sucking, causing a near pornographic moan to leave her lips.

You continued, urged on as her moans grew louder and more frequent, as the hold on your hair grew tighter and as her thighs threatened to close around your head. Her thighs shook as her peak came closer and closer, her eyes screwed shut as she chased the pleasure you gave her. With her jaw slack and her brows furrowed, she came hard against your tongue, her thighs closing around your head.

Your actions didn't stop, didn't slow as you allowed her to ride out her high. You groaned at the taste of her, being sure to lap up everything she gave you, before pulling away breathless. Your breath was hot, your chest heaving as you caught your breath, but your focus was stolen away as her fingers guided your chin up, forcing you to look at her.

She pulled you up with a gentle touch, guiding you onto her lap before capturing your lips once more. Her fingers worked on the tie of your robe, before smoothing the fabric down your arms and off your body.

A whimper left your lips as her thumbs swiped over your nipples, and she took the opportunity to start kissing down your neck. Each of her movements were soft, slow as though anything more would scare you away. Her lips lingered on your pulse point, the feeling sending heat straight to your core, before she shifted your position.

She turned you both, pushing you down and laying your head against the pillows, your body shining in the moonlight that seeped in from the cracks in the blinds and the gentle glow of the flames in the room. Her lips picked up where they left off, slowly trailing down to your breasts. Her lips and fingers worked together, mapping out every curve and dip of your skin and committing it all to memory.

She gave your breasts the attention that they deserved, her tongue swirling around each bud and forming them into hardened peaks, all while whimpers and small moans escaped your lips. One of her hands trailed down, rubbing up and down your thigh in slow movements, before swiping a finger through your folds. The action made you gasp, your bottom lip quickly coming between your teeth, as you felt her lips move lower and lower.

She collected your juices on her fingers, teasing your entrance before thrusting two of them into your core, moaning at how you immediately clenched around them. She moved them in and out at an agonizing pace, the sensation already making you see stars, as she curled them perfectly in the right spot each time.

Her lips trailed lower and lower, a few kisses being planted at the base of your thighs before you felt her tongue flatten against your slit. Your hips bucked at the feeling, a silent beg for more, before you felt her lick through your folds, her tongue circling your clit right after.

You wreathed under her, your breathing growing heavier as moans shot out of you. The familiar tightness in your core started to build, making the pleasure you felt come back in tenfold. Your hands moved to her hair, pulling at it and begging her not to stop. Your thighs shook with each lick, each thrust into your core, your pleasure building itself closer and closer to the delicious edge.

Every touch was absorbed with every ounce of love she held for you, and you showed her you knew that as her name fell from your lips in desperate moans. She curled her fingers just as she sucked on your clit, and the action made a loud moan escape you as it stole all the air from your lungs. You felt your thighs shake, and another curl of her fingers made ecstasy crash into you.

She helped your ride out your high, her ministrations only slowing when she had licked everything clean. You felt her lips travel up your body, her hands smoothing over your sides and giving you a warmth that you welcomed. Her lips met yours in a tender kiss, one full of the love and adoration you both held for each other. She broke away, moving to lay on her side, before pulling you into her arms.

She wrapped the covers over your bodies, but nothing could match the comfort you felt when her hands started tracing patterns along your back, when her body radiated heat and a smell you found intoxicating, when your head rested in the crook of her neck as her voice traveled through the air with sweet nothings for only you to hear.

You took a moment to look at her, your hands coming up to cup her face as your eyes scanned over her features in the growing late night. You couldn't help the smile that always seemed to grace your lips in her presence, one that she never failed to match when she saw it. With another soft kiss, pulling a hum from her chest, you settled back down in the comfort of her arms, tangling your legs together and enjoying the sound of her heartbeat as sleep took over the both of you.

Knights always held their honor high, and you'd both be sure to always honor the promise of coming back home to the one waiting for you.

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𝐚/𝐧: BRIENNE MY LOVE AHHHHHHHHH

I SAY THIS ABOUT FUCKING EVERYTHING BUT THIS WAS SO FUN TO WRITE I LOVE BRIENNE

i had somewhat of an idea for this when i had first gotten the request a while ago and im SOOO glad it morphed into THIS!!!! this is my first time writing for Brienne, and im really happy with how it turned out

im on like.. id say the beginning of season three of game of thrones and every time she pops up on the screen i literally kick my feet and scream like im so down bad for her its genuinely so funny to me

here you go anon!! im SO sorry it took this long, but i hope that it was worth the wait !

xx,

~ 𝐜𝐫𝐨𝐰

✧･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧ :══════⊹⊹══════: ✧･ﾟ｡˚☾.･✧

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: (tagged anyone who asked/wanted to be on the "all works" taglist)

as always, feel free to ask to be added !

@autumn-leaves-chasing-breeze @weemssapphic @readingtheentrails @finnja555 @barbarasstar @vendocrap8008 @gwendolinechristieiscute @lilfartbox1 @agathaandgwenslesbian @lvinhs @elvira-dear @kimiinou @ladybathoryy

✧･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧ :══════⊹⊹══════: ✧･ﾟ｡˚☾.･✧

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