#protecting nature and it giving back to us in return | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

captainfern · 6 months

Note

*comes sniffing in your ask box for treats*

throwing in a silly little request for Simon and Price sharing a partner maybeeee? ily 👉👈

🐩

Fade To Black

Simon 'Ghost' Riley x fem!reader x Captain John Price

["Fade To Black" by Metallica]

[18+]

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• summary - your boyfriend's love making you feel good <3 that's the summary lol. • rating - 18+ • wordcount - 4.4k • warnings - fem!reader, all porn zero plot<3, established poly relationship, oral [f!receiving], fingering, m!masturbation, voyeurism?, unprotected piv, soft!ghost [use of pet names, praise, obsessed boyfriend things], implied dom!price [minor degradation, minor dumbification], ghost loves you, price loves you too, breeding kink [predictable with my writing i know 😭], both men are possessive, strong language

🍪 - for you !! with a side of cod smut, of course ;3

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Your relationship with John and Simon was, quite possibly, one of the best aspects of your life.

They both took care of you so well, and ensured you had everything you could possibly need. They both spent quality time with you, together and individually, and both spoiled you like good boyfriend's should. They both protected you, too– Simon's hand on the small of your back in public, shooting dark glares at other people brave enough to glance in your direction– John's warm hand in yours, guiding you through a crowd, his thumb brushing soothing stripes across your knuckles.

Both of them loved you. Both of them were totally, utterly obsessed with you.

How could they not? You were just so good for them. Always worrying about them, patching up the wounds they often returned home with, cooking for them after a long day working. You tended to their needs first, in more ways than one– example, you never complained about dropping to your knees in front of them if they needed some kind of release.

God, they loved that part. They loved the part of you that was so eager to be good for them. Both of them. How willing you are to let them toss you back and forth between one another, bend you over the couch, spread you out on the rug, pin you up against a wall. Obviously, they loved everything about you, but a pretty thing like you being theirs and theirs alone? A blessing.

But just as much as you loved to service them, they loved to service you. It was in their nature, of course. Looking after their girlfriend? Their future wife? It was instinct.

And besides, even when it was their turn to give more, you were still always good for them.

Late one evening, John returned home and kicked off his shoes. Usually, you'd rush to the door to greet him, even if you did have to wriggle your way out of Simon's hold sometimes. You'd wrap your arms around him and hug him tight, and he'd return the hug with a kiss to the top of your head.

This time was different. You didn't rush into the entry-hall to greet him with the most beautiful smile. Instead, John was greeted by complete silence as he walked further into the flat.

Well, it wasn't complete silence.

Other times where you'd failed to greet him, he couldn't help but frown. This time, his lips quirked into a knowing smile as he made his way towards the living room.

Your breathy whimpers filled the flat, paired with your own laboured breathing and low grunts from Simon. He had you sitting upright on the couch, your legs folded over his shoulders as he kneeled on the ground in front of you, his face between your legs. Simon's grip was tight on your thighs, gripping the flesh and holding your legs in place, which were now beginning to tremble. He grunted with each flat lick of his tongue up your wet folds, followed by another low-pitched noise when he shoved his tongue deep into your cunt, his nose nudging your puffy clit.

You had a handful of his dark blond hair, almost brown in the low light of the living room, fisting it tightly as you arched against the couch. Your eyes were closed, your mouth parted as more whimpers fell from your lips, including whines of Simon–! which made Simon moan against you. He was painfully fucking hard in his trousers.

John watched from the doorway for a moment, leaning his shoulder against it, listening to your sounds. After a moment, Simon pulled away from you for just a moment to utter "Look who's home, baby" before sliding his tongue back inside you.

John couldn't help but chuckle at the fact Simon knew he was there without even turning around.

Your eyes flew open, immediately finding John's. You sucked in a breath, trying to hold your whimpers at bay, long enough to greet him with watery eyes and a small pout.

"John." You keened, eyes immediately closing as Simon's pace picked up. You let out a loud moan that made John's cock twitch in his trousers as he crossed the room and sat beside you on the couch.

He leaned over to kiss you– smoothing his lips against yours before slipping his tongue into your mouth, deepening the kiss by grabbing hold of your jaw and angling your face closer to his. You moaned into his mouth, his other hand finding the back of your neck, pinning you in place so he could lick further into your mouth.

Below, Simon grunted into your core, muffled. John pulled out of the kiss, still holding your head, looking down to meet Simon's eyes.

"Got something to say?" John asked, cocking his head to the side. You whimpered in his hold, and Simon's eyes darted from John to you, and back and forth a couple times.

John knew Simon all too well. Each time you let out the smallest whimper, the breathiest whine, the longest moan, his cock would twitch, growing harder in his boxers. He loved the noises you made. So with John kissing you...

John smirked, slotting his mouth back against yours, his eyes still on Simon. You moaned into his mouth, your eyes fluttering shut. The noises were quiet now, just deep hums in the back of your throat. Simon's brows pinched as he glared at John. John winked at him.

Simon grunted against your cunt, his tongue moving in and out of you. Small dribbles of your slick slipped down his face, coating his chin as his efforts increased, pace quickening, nose pressing tighter against your little bundle of nerves. He could hear the way you were moaning into the kiss, and his eyes remained firmly on your face.

He knew you were close. Your thighs were slowly tightening around his head, and you were arching further off the couch. Your thighs quivered in his hold, the slick walls of your cunt pulling tighter around his tongue. He groaned into you, letting one hand run up your thigh and over your mound, cupping you there while this thumb pressed heavily against your clit. He rubbed fast circles and finally, finally, you broke the kiss– pulling away from John to moan, "S-Si, fuck, please– please, please–!"

Before John could pull you back into the kiss, you came around Simon's tongue. You moaned, long and drawn out, as Simon licked you through it, still thumbing your clit gently. The sound filled Simon's head, making him reciprocate his own moan, lips parted against the slick mess of your core. He continued swiping licks up your folds, around your leaking hole, until you were squirming against him, John placing kisses along your jaw.

Simon pulled away, kissing your thighs as he went. After placing one final kiss to your inner knee, he got to his feet, knees cracking as he pushed overtop of your body, shunting John out of the way so he could grasp your face and kiss you.

John let out a laugh. "S'that how it's going to be tonight, hm?"

Simon didn't respond. He simply cupped your face and pinned you back against the couch. His knee slotted between your legs as he kissed you, shoving his tongue into your mouth. You tasted yourself when your tongues met, and you whimpered his name into his mouth.

When Simon– begrudgingly– ended the kiss, he flopped down on the other side of you. But he pulled you with him, grasping your hips and pulling you into his lap, your back against his chest. He immediately attached his mouth to the curve of your neck and shoulder.

John watched you and Simon for a moment. "Has he been treating you well, sweetheart?"

You nodded, Simon's arms now winding their way around your midriff, holding you to him. Your head lolled back to allow Simon more room, but your eyes remained on John.

"D'you have a good day?" You asked.

"Mhm," John replied simply. "I missed you, though."

"Missed you too." You mumbled, eyelids fluttering when Simon sucked harder, skimming his teeth against your sweat-slicked skin.

John cocked his head, watching your expressions for a moment. He smiled, content, before grabbing a half-smoked cigar from the ashtray at the end of the couch. He relit it, and the familiar sound of the lighter clinking had your eyes opening like some sort of Pavlovian response.

John inhaled and then exhaled, smoke curling out above his head. You watched him with glistening eyes, and he could see your focus drifted across the way his fingers held the cigar. His smile widened, and he lifted his free hand, beckoning you over to him with a curl of two fingers.

Straight away, you weaselled yourself free of Simon's hold. He frowned.

Of course, he let you go and you didn't actually force his hands away. If he wanted you to stay, his arm's wouldn't have even budged.

You crawled into Price's lap, smiling at him when his free hand rested hot and heavy against the bare expanse of your lower back.

"Hold this for me." He whispered, grabbing his cigar and handing it to you. You took it from him, a wisp of smoke fluttering across the skin of your cheek.

His other hand skimmed down the front of your body, over the dips of your breasts and tummy, until he reached your cunt. He groaned when he ran two fingers down your folds. You were so fucking wet. With ease, he slipped his fingers into your sopping cunt, straight to the knuckle. You hummed low in your throat, head tilting forward.

"Fuck, you're wet," John muttered, thrusting his fingers in and out of you. "S'this just from getting your pretty pussy eaten, hm? S'all this 'cause've Simon?"

You moaned. "Yes–!"

Behind you, Simon grunted, and was pulling his cock out of his trousers and fisting it slowly. His eyes watched the two of you closely, the head of his cock leaking pre-cum. What was left of your arousal on his fingers, he smeared it across the hard shaft of his cock, his other hand cupping his balls as you rocked yourself against John's fingers.

John chuckled lowly. "Naughty fucking girl, aren't you, sweetheart? Listen to how wet this cunt is." He pulled his fingers out and then thrusted them in roughly; the sound eliciting was a loud, wet squelch that made your tummy flutter. John hummed, appraising you with dark eyes. "So fucking wet, isn't she, Simon?"

Simon grunted, the movement of his hand speeding up. He jerked his cock, gripping tighter at the base, pausing only briefly to thumb at the reddened tip.

John grinned, then nodded at the cigar you were still holding. You got the hint, drowsily holding it out for him to take into his mouth. He inhaled deeply, and you pulled it away when the hand on the small of your back danced upwards. He cupped your neck and pulled you down to kiss him. He exhaled the smoke into your mouth and you whimpered as you felt it sting the back of your nose and throat.

The kiss was wet, messy, and tasted of smoke. His tongue was relentless against yours, saliva pushed from the corners of your mouth, running down your chin as he forced more and more whimpers from you. He continued to fuck you with his fingers, adding an abrupt third while he sucked on your tongue, before pushing his tongue back into your mouth with a grunt. The smoke was bitter in your mouth, his saliva tasting of it, but it made you moan out anyway– a sound that had Simon dropping a whispered "oh, fuck" behind you.

The heel of John's hand pressed hard against your swollen clit, causing your entire lower body to shudder. The sensation of three of his big fingers inside you was enough to have the pleasure in your lower stomach rise. The roughness of the digits inside you, thrusting against your warm, slick walls and that spongey spot inside you, had your head spinning.

"John, m'gonna– please can I come?" You mewled out, almost dropping John's cigar as your fingers began to tremble.

"You wanna come?" John whispered. "You wanna come? And you're asking your captain for permission? What a good fucking girl you are, sweetheart."

You always loved it when both your boyfriends brought their ranks home. Maybe it was because you were a civilian, but it always had you feeling some type of way.

You mewled again, high-pitched at his words. Behind you, you could hear Simon grunting and groaning, and the wet fap fap fap's of him stroking his cock. You wished you could see it. He always looked so pretty when he jerked off. Such a pretty boy.

"Come 'round your captain's fingers, then. Go on," John said, fingers nailing that spot inside you each time. "And kiss me while you come."

You did– when your orgasm crashed over you, you crashed your mouth onto John's. You shook against him, cunt squeezing his fingers tightly and thighs shaking against his lap. You whined his name into his mouth as, once again, his tongue found yours, pushing more of the acrid taste of smoke into your mouth. His free hand left the back of your head and he plucked the cigar from your hand when he pulled away from the kiss. He placed it back into the ashtray, his other hand leaving the wet heat of your cunt. He grabbed hold of your hip and began grinding you down against the bulge in his trousers. You blew out a long, whiney breath.

Behind you, Simon's orgasm was approaching. Tired and bordering overstimulated, you managed to turn your body to watch Simon as John slowly rocked you against his lap. You whimpered out "you're so pretty, Si" when you finally got a good look at the way he was fucking his fist, his hair dishevelled, lower face still shining with your slick. His cock twitched in his hand at your words, and he moaned your name. Your clit began to throb with need.

"Christ," Simon hissed. "Can– fuck– can I come on your tummy, baby?"

"Please." You whined, butterflies filling your stomach.

John helped you twist in his lap until your back was against his chest. Simon got off the couch and approached, still pumping his cock with his lower lip snagged between his teeth. He grunted with each movement of his hand.

Meanwhile, John weaved his arms around you, large palms cupping your tits as he leaned back further against the couch, exposing more of your midriff to Si. He squeezed your tits, rolling your hardened nipples between his thumb and forefingers, his smoky breath brushing over your shoulder. He nosed at the pulse behind your ear, eyes watching Simon as more pre-cum leaked from the blond's cock.

"Beg for Si, sweetheart," John whispered in your ear, loud enough for Simon to hear. When you whined, John tutted in your ear, rolling your nipples harder between his fingers. "Use your words."

You gasped out. "Fuck– please, Si. Want your– oh, fuck– want your cum, please."

Simon's mouth dropped open, a guttural groan following as he jerked his cock once, twice more, before pushing his hips towards you. He came in hot spurts, covering the soft shape of your tummy in stripes of milky white. He grunted out your name, fisting his semi-hard cock with cum-covered knuckles.

"Fucking hell..." Si breathed, standing over you and John still. John let go of you, running his hands down your body soothingly.

He looked up at Si, who was now ripping his shirt over his head and pulling his trousers and boxers all the way off. John was the only one still completely dressed.

"You want her first?" John asked, rubbing your thighs. You leaned back into him, humming contentedly, eyes closed.

Simon cocked his head. "You don't–?"

"I'll watch first," John said with a smile. "Besides, I've got a cigar to finish."

The real reason John loved watching was, well, exactly that. He always loved watching how you reacted to Si– how you reacted to his touch, his mouth on your skin, his praise. He also loved the way Simon bullied his fat cock into the tight heat of your cunt. John's eyes almost closed in pleasure at the thought.

Simon offered John a grateful smile, before he was gently guiding you off of your other boyfriend's lap. He gathered you in his arms, hugging you for a moment. You squirmed slightly; his seed being smushed between the two of you.

"How do you want me, baby?" He asked you as John grabbed his cigar, situating himself more comfortably at the end of the couch, beginning to unzip his straining trousers.

"Want you on top of me..." You whispered, carefully prying yourself from Si's grasp and flopping onto the plush rug beneath you. You spread yourself out on the rug, sighing through our nose, your body on perfect display.

Simon was hard again. "On the floor?"

"Mhm..." You smiled at him, and you heard John chuckle in the background. You looked over at John. "So the captain get's a good view."

John cracked a smile. "Yeah? You want to get fucked on the rug like a good little whore, hm?" He had pulled out his cock by this stage, pumping himself slowly. Like Si, he was big, the tip reddened and leaking dribbles of pre-cum.

You smiled, biting your lower lip.

Simon settled onto the soft rug between your legs, large hands massaging your knees before grabbing the backs of them and pulling you closer to him. You couldn't help but giggle as you were yanked down the rug, but the giggle dissipated to a stretched out moan as you felt the solid warmth of his cock against your inner thigh.

He grasped his cock at the base, running the ruddy tip up and down your soaked folds. He hummed in pleasure, smearing more of your arousal against the curve of your arse and your inner thighs. The sensation made you shiver, and he squeezed your thigh in comfort.

"S'alright, baby, I'm here," Simon cooed, circling the wet tip of his cock around your swollen clit. "I'm right here..." He mumbled, dragging the tip through your folds until he reached your leaking hole, pressing against it gently.

Your back arched off the rug, your entire body heating up. The one hand he had on your thigh felt like it was burning you, searing into your skin. You whimpered out for him– Simon, Simon, Simon– hands scrambling for purchase, grabbing at the soft rug.

"I know, my girl, I know, 'm gonna give you what you want," he told you, circling the head of his cock over your cunt. More arousal leaked from you, meaning more arousal smearing onto his cock. He stuttered around a groan. "Such a p-pretty pussy, baby. So wet. And such a good girl, too. Been such a good girl for me and John."

John groaned from the couch, muffled around the shape of his cigar. He had stopped stroking himself, and was gripping his cock, hand resting near the patch of dark hair at the base. A hazy cloud of smoke hung in the air above him, and you could smell it– smell smoke, John, Simon, sweat and sex. You took a deep breath.

"Here you go, darling, take what you need," Simon whispered, leaning over your body to place a delicate kiss to your lips as he slid his cock inside you. His pace was deep and slow, dragging against your gummy walls and dragging embarrassingly loud noises from your mouth. Simon groaned too, the feel of your wet heat around him almost too much. When he bottomed out, he mouthed at the crook of your neck. "I love you."

Tears were in your eyes now. He was just so big. But he was so, so soft with you. Gentle.

"I love you too, Si," you said, kissing his cheek. You then looked over at John. "I love you too, captain."

John bit back a moan. Captain. Cheeky girl.

"I love you too, sweetheart."

Simon shifted his hips, dragging his cock out of you. It glistened with your arousal, and it made his face grow hot. He bit back a whimper when he pushed inside you. You gasped, and he did it again. Again and again until he had a set a rhythm that had your entire body on fire, writhing against the rug.

"Si." You moaned, arms moving around his shoulders until the tips of your nails were scraping across the muscular planes of his back.

The head of his cock filled you deep, knocking up against the base of your cervix. The sounds were wet and lewd, paired with your moans and Simon's hushed grunts. John watched and listened, his cock twitching against his stomach as he pumped himself, his cigar resting between his lips.

"You feel so good, baby, fuck. Such a good fucking pussy," Simon grunted into your neck, before he lifted himself back up to look into your eyes. He ground his hips against yours, his cock bullying up against the plug of your womb, stretching you open. You mewled, high-pitched and desperate, scratching at his back. He smiled, strands of damp blond hair falling over his forehead. "That's it, baby, mark me up."

No doubt his back would be striped with red lines by the time he was done with you.

Your body was burning hot against the rug, sweat building at the base of your spine as that familiar knot in your stomach began to grow tighter– pulling and pulling as Simon fucked you.

He had both hands on your hips now, pulling your body to meet his with each of his timed thrusts. On the couch, John had to slow the movement of his hand so he didn't come too soon.

"S'that feel good, sweetheart?" He asked you, taking the cigar out of his mouth for a minute. "Is Simon making you feel good?"

"Yes..." You whined, overwhelmed. You felt so good.

John repressed a groan at the whine in your voice. "Then tell him. Tell him how good his cock feels inside your tight cunt."

Simon closed his eyes. "Christ, cap–"

You moaned, then moved one hand away from Si's back, to his head. You grasped a fistful of his hair and tugged gently, forcing your boyfriend's eyes to open and a strained moan to fall from his mouth. You kissed him, then uttered against his lips, "You're making me feel so good, Si. I l-love your cock– oh my god–!"

Si had reached a hand down and was now rubbing circles on your clit. Your words had his brain swimming, his thrusts deepening and pace quickening. The tight ball of pleasure was drawing tighter and tighter in the base of your tummy, your cunt fluttering around his cock.

"Yeah? You love this cock. baby?" Si mused, a noticeable quirk in the corners of his mouth. "Well, it's all yours, isn't it? S'your cock, jus' like this is our perfect– fuckin'– pussy."

Si punctuated the last three words with heavy thrusts, making you cry out. His words were slurring as his orgasm neared, sweat dripping down his abs.

Our.

That made John groan and come all over his hand and stomach. He moaned your name, head flopping back against the couch, the remnants of his cigar already in the ashtray. The moan of your name was followed by a "Jesus Christ, Simon."

"John–" You moaned, wriggling against the rug. You were so close, and as Simon maintained his deep, heavy thrusts, it wasn't long before your cunt was beginning to squeeze him tighter, your legs shaking around him.

"Please, Si," you gasped. "Please, please–! M'gonna, oh my god, m'gonna come– please don't stop."

Simon grunted above you, his fingers still working against your clit, his cock still rutting into you deeply.

"Come for me, baby," he whispered. "Come on my cock. That's it, baby, yeah– good fuckin' girl."

You came around his cock with a sob of his name, your cunt squeezing him tight as the ball of pressure snapped in your tummy. Your orgasm was hard, slamming over you and rendering you breathless, your head floating. Your clit pulsed beneath the movements of his fingers, and in your blissed out state, you vaguely noticed the shapes he was drawing across your clit.

S... I... M... O...

That cheeky son of a bitch.

N...

You sobbed out, your orgasm finally settling and your body going lax against the rug. Simon moved his fingers away from your clit, and used both hands to grab each of your knees. He bent your legs, pushing them up against the rest of your body, folding you in half so he could split you deeper on his cock.

You wanted to scream. He was hitting so deep. You were so fucking full.

"Good girl..." You heard John mutter behind you. That made your stomach flip.

Simon was close. He was huffing, grunting. His eyes were glazed over, pupils dilated so much his eyes almost looked black. His gaze never left your face as he pounded into you, his cock sliding against your slick walls, drawing dribbles of your arousal out of you with each thrust.

"M'gonna come in this tight cunt," Si whispered, almost too quiet for you to hear. He spoke louder when he continued his sentence. "You want my cum, baby? You want me to come inside you? Want me to fill you up, fill this pretty tummy?"

"Please–!" You sobbed.

"I will, pretty girl, I will. Want you to take it all... take it all like a good girl," he moaned. "Get you– get you pregnant. Fill you up with my kids. I'd look after you, baby. We'd look after you."

You were almost crying now.

"M'comin', baby," Simon all but growled above you. "Take it all. Take it, take it, take it–"

He came, moaning around your name. He came a lot, too– liquid warmth flooding your insides, leaking out around the shape of his cock, punching a moan from his lungs. You shook beneath him, trickles of his cum dripping down the soft flesh of your arse.

He didn't pull out. He simply moved to the side and kept you hugged against him, lying against the rug with you. He looked up at John, who was still sitting on the couch, half-dried cum splattered across his shirt.

Simon smiled. "Join our girl and I on the rug, cap?"

John smiled in return. "No time for rest, Simon. It's my turn."

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ended it here cause i'm lazy but i hope you enjoyed x

#captainfern #captainfernsalutes #call of duty #fem reader #cod smut #call of duty smut #captain john price #simon ghost riley #price cod #ghost cod #simon ghost riley smut #captain john price smut #captain’smetallica

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devourable · 1 year

Text

✘ delinquents

sfw | tws : yandere behavior; stalking, obsessive thoughts, mildly implied violence

delinquent male yanderes x reader! only pronoun used for reader is ‘you’ 😌 i took a bit longer than expected so i hope yall enjoy these knuckleheads

mattias was the first to take notice of you.

he caught sight of you during one of his typical late night walks with his friends, semi-drunkenly cracked jokes amongst themselves as they passed around liquor that they had stolen earlier in the day. and when his gaze fell onto you from some distance away, he stopped walking.

you were doing nothing but sitting at a bus stop, but... what was it about you? the way the street lamp bathed you in its light, illuminating you with an amber glow like you were the only thing on the street? it made the boy's heart stutter in a way he'd never felt before!

when his friends returned to his side upon noticing he had stopped walking, mattie quickly pointed you out to his friends ("guys, check out that cutie!"), and an additional three pairs of eyes landed on you as your bus rumbled down the road. and they all had the same reaction as him — you were adorable! what were you doing out on your own so late? didn’t you know there were criminals around here? poor little thing you were, you must’ve not had any other choice…

clearly, you needed someone to protect you!

they were too far away to approach then and there, but it was probably for the best. getting talked up by four drunk, imposing male strangers so late at night would probably not make the best first impression, one of them pointed out as they watches you board your bus. so completely unbeknownst to you, your four new admirers had already began to devise a plan to meet you formally.

it was strange how naturally their collective desire for you fell together. any other time, if even just two of them liked the same person, it was enough to cause infighting and strife among the friend group. but you? the way you united them simply by existing, you had to be something special! it must’ve been destiny that they noticed you that night.

the four would slowly trickle their way into your life, one by one. despite mattias begging to be the one to do it, dominic would be the first of the four you’d actually meet. in his eyes, he was the least intimidating, the most suave, the most manipulative. his charmingly crooked smile had always helped him charm his way into and out of most situations, and you were no different.

he’d casually start riding the same bus as you at the same times you did, using it as an excuse to talk to you. coincidentally, you and him had the same stops, too! and he even got the driver to give you free lifts, even when he wasn't around. it was an old favor he was owed, he'd say, so you didn't have to pay any mind to the tense demeanor of the bus driver whenever you boarded.

naturally he’d offer to walk you home, too, but if you weren’t comfortable with that, it was no biggie (he’d figure out where you lived regardless). he was content with waving you off and walking in a different direction for the meantime.

mattias and judas came next. when dom had managed to convince you to stop by the nearby corner store with him one day, his friends just so happened to be there! as if they weren’t waiting there every day after you and dom had established a friendship.

it was all mattias could do to not scoop you up the moment you met. you were even cuter up close! he was so happy when his patience was rewarded by being graced with your voice, your laughs at his witty sense of humor, and your little smile when you looked at him. did you like him back? did you think he was half as attractive as he found you to be? he desperately wanted to know what you thought of him, but he choked back his questions to keep from scaring you off. in spite of his usually energetic persona, he played it cool to gain your favor.

judas, meanwhile, observed you in relative silence — he wasn’t much of a talker, dom explained — but it didn’t mean his thoughts weren’t any less intense than mattias’s. he couldn’t deny it — he liked you, quite a lot. more than he thought he would. despite finding you attractive too, he didn’t think much of you when he had first grown aware of your existence. he’d simply chalked you up to be the temporary fixation of his friends. but the second you did meet, judas’s mind went to places he had never expected it to go.

for once, he found himself… wanting someone. wanting you. and for once, he was happy his friends had dragged them into this whole scheme.

the four of you all got along so well! and when aaron was finally introduced to you as well, he was no exception. aaron was the only of the four to have a car, so when he ‘learned’ that you were taking the bus so late to get around, he was quick to offer up his own services to help you out ("dom is too much of a nuisance to drive around," he'd claim). an excuse to be able to spend more time with you, with and without his friends around, and you don’t have to deal with public transportation anymore! a win-win, right? and when you accepted, he was over the moon.

it didn't take long for them to sweep you right off your feet after you had met all four of them. they were relentless in capturing your heart and all four of them worked together to ensure you were theirs.

on top of that, none of them were afraid of breaking a few rules or laws to do that, either.

you found yourself always with at least one of the four — usually mattias, as he had the most free time and arguably liked you the most — and the few times you weren't, you could bet they were doing everything in their power to get back to you. other people in your life suddenly began to pull away from you, never having time or simply not wanting to be around you, or so they claimed. it left you with little else to turn to outside of the boys. they had started to puppeteer your life without you ever even knowing it.

they didn't quite understand the pull you had on them — hell, you didn't even realize what you were doing to them! and they even started to question if what they were doing was okay. was what they were doing to your life just to keep you in theirs worth it?

but dominic, mattias, judas, and aaron all came to the same decision the day you agreed to be in a relationship with all four of them...

it was definitely worth it. and they'd keep doing whatever it took to keep things going exactly as they were.

#🚬 the delinquents #mattias callahan #aaron diaz #dominic graves #judas jones #mine | fics #yandere x reader #yandere #yandere boy #yandere x you #yandere x oc #polyam yanderes

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undertheorangetree · 4 months

Text

In The Woods Somewhere

Summary- Coriolanus does not intend on returning to the Capitol alone.

Warnings- MDNI 18+ DUBCON Female reader. TBOSAS spoilers technically. Reader is essentially Lucy Gray. Porn with plot. Toxic relationship. Possessive Coriolanus. Chasing. Biting. Restraint. Choking. Edging. Overstimulation. Fingering. Cunnilingus. P in V sex.

Author’s Note- Happy holidays! This is not our regularly scheduled programming but I have Hunger Games/Tom Blyth brain rot so here’s this monster. Please heed the warnings and link to the full fic on AO3 below

She knows the moment he looks up at her, rifle clutched in his hands, that he will not be coming north with her. Not anymore, not now that he has the one thing tying him to this place well in hand.

She isn't a fool. She knows that his feelings for her played only a small role in his agreeing to come with her but she had been willing to overlook that. When he had cupped her face in his hand and swore that he would join her, that they would escape Panem- and their collective noose- together, she had seen the hesitation there. Coryo was not a man built for nature, no more than he was built for the districts, but she loves him and so she had ignored it. Twisted it into something romantic and noble in her head, that he would give up all this, that he would leave behind everything for her. He had promised her earnestly and she had taken him at his word.

But with the look on his face now, some potent mix of elation and relief washing over him like a wave, she knows she never stood a chance.

"It's the gun," he says, and she hates the tone he uses. The way he almost breathes the words, the way he looks up at her with the ghost of a smile on his face. Had she had doubts about what the guns would inspire in him, the look on his face is enough to prove her right.

"The one you fired at Mayfair," she says with a nod, crossing her arms over her chest. It feels almost protective now, as if she can safeguard her breaking heart. "Spruce must have known about this place too. I guess it's not as secret as I thought. We hide that and you're free."

"No more loose ends."

The way he says it, his hands tightening on the barrel as he looks down at the rifle, makes her blood run cold. This is all he wanted, nothing short of a dream come true. She doesn't like it, her reaction just as much as his own, and she fights to push passed it. Tells herself that there is nothing wrong here, not really, that he is entitled to some semblance of excitement, but she can feel that unease gnawing at her gut. It feels like an omen. A warning.

She grins, hoping to seem more at ease than she truly is, and feels her nose scrunch up teasingly as she says, "Besides me."

It's the wrong thing to do. Immediately, he goes rigid, eyes darting up to look at her and she sees the distrust there, akin to a beaten dog. It wouldn't be as startling as it is if not for their conversation in the woods not even an hour before. He is willing to kill if backed far enough into a corner and is that not what she has just done? Reminded him of the power she held over him with this knowledge? Backed him into a corner? And just like that beaten dog, she can see that he is only a moment away from snapping at her with pearly white teeth.

"You wouldn't... tell anyone?"

She feels her eyebrows draw together, all attempt at joking gone. It hurts a little, what seems to be a complete lack of faith in her, and it's almost surprising. Almost. "Course not."

But would she? She doesn’t really know now. The fact that he believes she could, as if she could exchange his freedom for her own, feels like the final nail in the coffin. She could forgive his dislike of the idea of heading north, the relief on his face when he saw the guns. But what he said in the woods- three’s enough for me- and his distrust of her now… she doesn’t think she’s safe with him. All their talk of trust, of how he agreed it was worth more than love, thrown to the wind all for the sake of a duffle bag full of rifles. Because just as easily as those gun could buy her freedom, they could secure his own too. One small step toward returning to his life back in the Capitol. He was going to leave before killing Mayfair, she knew that. And if there’s no weapon linking him to the crime, he could. Because no matter how badly she wants to believe he wants a life with her, she thinks he wants his old one back that much more.

And she isn’t sure just what he is willing to sacrifice to get rid of all those loose ends.

She feels herself smile again, moving on autopilot to fetch the knife she knows is on the shelf near the door. It doesn’t reach her eyes but she isn’t looking at him, gripping the handle of the knife a little too tightly. “I think I’m gonna go dig up some katniss. There’s a good patch down by the lake, don’t know when we’ll come across it again.”

His suspicion only grows at that, lips parted and head tilted in question, and she knows she needs to go. Though his finger has not yet shifted toward the trigger, it hasn’t moved away from it either. He has been a Peacekeeper for no more than two months, but that was more than enough time to pick up all he needed to know about firing a gun. Even if his aim is shoddy, it wouldn’t take much effort to aim in her general direction and hold down on a trigger. She had said it herself, she is the only one left who knew the truth about Mayfair’s death- her murder. If he wanted to go back to the Capitol, he needed to be damn sure there wasn’t a chance of his time here coming back to haunt him. As it is now, she is the only thing standing between him and the Snow penthouse.

“Thought you said they weren’t ready yet,” he protests, that uncertainty still more than apparent.

She prays her smile doesn’t look as forced as it feels when her eyes flick up to look at his handsome face, doing what she can to seem nonchalant. “The world changes awful fast.”

She pulls the door open, the rain pounding against the porch outside, when he calls her name. Her grip on the knife tightens a hair more before she’s turning back to look at him, keeping her eyes wide and innocent as she tilts her head in question. She knows she hesitated, knows he caught her if the look on his face is anything to go by, but rather than let her panic consume her, she focuses on his eyes. The beautiful, brilliant blue of his eyes. That may be the thing she misses most about him, after all this.

“It’s still raining.”

As if a little rain is enough to stop her from saving her own life.

“Well, I’m not made out of sugar,” she grins, taking one last look at him before shutting the door, placing some kind of barrier between them.

Read the rest here :)

#Coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus x reader #Coriolanus snow smut #coriolanus smut #coriolanus snow fanfiction #coriolanus fanfiction #coriolanus snow x fem!reader #coriolanus x fem!reader #Coriolanus snow x you #coriolanus x you #tbosas #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #tbosas fanfiction #the ballad of songbirds and snakes fanfiction #coriolanus snow #tbosas smut

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oizysian · 10 days

Note

Hello, how are you? Could you write a wife G!p Wanda x preggo f reader. Where wanda is very jealous and possessive with reader if shes near other people. If you're not comfortable don't worry ^^

Mine, All Mine | Wanda Maximoff

Warnings: enchanted strap, blow jobs, whiny cummy Wanda.

AN: the people voted and enchanted strap won, so I’m sorry I changed it from g!p. I hope you still like it!

•

“Wanda, I’m okay.” I assured her, rubbing the back of her hand softly with my thumb.

“You’re pregnant. You shouldn’t be doing anything strenuous.”

“A party isn’t strenuous.” I giggled, kissing her cheek. “We’re gonna have a good time.”

“If you feel sick or tired or wanna go home, just let me know and we’ll leave.”

“Baby, I’ll be fine. You worry too much.”

“I worry because you’re carrying my child. I can’t help but worry.”

“I know, but it’s just a small get together with your superhero friends.”

“It’s never small when it comes to Tony.” She grumbled and I couldn’t help but smile at her pout.

“You never know. He may surprise you.”

The rest of the drive was quiet, a comfortable silence washing over us. Her right hand remained on my thigh as she drove and I drew little shapes on it with my fingertips, trying my best to keep her calm.

When we got there, she parked and rushed out of the car before I could even say anything, opening the door for me and helping me out.

“I’m not that pregnant, Wanda.” I said with a chuckle, taking hold of her hand as we walked towards Avengers Tower.

“But you will be and I wanna be ready for when you are.”

I shook my head at her words, unable to believe how she was acting over my pregnancy. I knew she was protective of me even without a baby inside me, so it was clear that her overprotective nature was running on overdrive.

Once we entered and reached the floor that the party was being held on, we were instantly greeted by everyone congratulating us and wanting to touch my stomach.

Wanda instantly turned red, literally, and everyone knew to back off.

“Wanda,” I scolded her. “Relax.”

“How can I relax when everyone is trying to touch you?” She hissed into my ear and I shivered at the tone of her voice.

“They’re just excited.” I returned my attention to the crowd who were now just talking amongst themselves. “One of their baby members is having a baby.”

“I am not the baby here.” She argued and I laughed at her reaction. “Of course you’re not, my love.”

Natasha walked from the group of huddled up people back to us, smiling as she approached.

“Congratulations, Y/N, Wanda.” She took a sip of her drink. “When are you due?”

“The sixteenth of August.” I smiled brightly.

Wanda tugged on my hand and I ignored her, knowing she was just being ridiculous. It was Natasha, not some stranger.

“You okay there, Wands?” She asked and Wanda nodded curtly.

“She’s just a little moody.” I spoke for her, giving her hand a pat. “She didn’t want me to come tonight.”

“Oh? Why not?”

I gestured to everyone around us and she nodded in understanding. She knew how Wanda could be and she could only imagine how bad it was now that there was a baby on the way.

“Don’t worry, Wanda. I’ll let everyone know to relax with the touching and the questions.”

“Thank you.” I said as she walked away, Wanda’s grip on my hand loosening as we were left alone. “Are you really that upset about us being here?” I questioned her and her gaze fell to the ground. “We can leave, baby. I didn’t realize you felt so strongly about this.”

“No, it’s fine.” She said softly, pressing a kiss to my cheek. “You wanted to be here and … I guess I need to get used to people being around you and the baby.”

I nodded, giving her a sympathetic look before leading her over to where Tony and Steve were standing, nursing drinks and talking. I figured if we were going to leave early, which was very likely, we would have to at least speak to the host once.

“Y/N.” Tony greeted me. “Wanda. Nice light show you put on earlier. If I had known you were gonna do that I would’ve canceled the entertainment for tonight.”

Her eyes darkened and I chuckled nervously before Steve gave him a little nudge.

“Don’t listen to him, Wanda.” He said, extending his hand to her. “Congratulations.”

After a moment of staring daggers at Tony, she took Steve’s hand, shaking it.

“Thank you.” She smiled slightly. “We’re very excited.”

“As are we all.” Tony raised his glass in a toast. “To the new little Avenger.”

Wanda puffed out her chest, about to speak, before I squeezed her hand, reminding her to relax.

“I actually plan on retiring once the baby comes.” She said through gritted teeth. “The baby will have a normal life.”

He tilted his head at her, taking a gulp of his drink.

“If you say so, witchy.”

•

“Wanda, are you okay?” I asked softly, watching as she unlocked the front door and opened it, letting me walk in first.

“I’m fine.”

If she were a cartoon character, she’d be bright red with smoke coming out of her ears.

“I’m just …” She threw her hands up in frustration. “I can’t get over the fact that so many people were all over you.”

“They weren’t all over me.” I said softly.

“I’m just not used to people being all over my wife and baby.”

I walked up to her and wrapped my arms around her neck, pulling her close so I could kiss her.

“It’s only temporary. Once the baby is born we’ll be off in our own little world with nobody to bother us. But, right now …”

I ran my hands down her shoulders to her arms, taking her hands in my own before getting down on my knees in front of her, biting my lip as I undid the button on her pants.

“Y/N … you shouldn’t …”

“Shh,” I tugged on her pants and panties, exposing her pussy to me. “Bring it out.”

I looked up at her, watching as she bit her bottom lip, her eyes closing as a red colored cock emerged from between her legs, twitching with arousal. I smiled up at her and took her hardness in my hand, running my fingers along the tip, spreading her precum along her shaft.

“If … you feel like you c-can’t …” she stuttered softly and I ignored her, slipping her into my mouth.

She moaned, desperately gripping at my hair as I bobbed up and down along her length. I could feel her throbbing against my tongue and I couldn’t help but groan at the taste of her. Even though it wasn’t a real dick, it still tasted like her, felt like her, and she felt everything I did to it, which made this even more exciting.

“I-I’m gonna cum, baby.” She whimpered softly, running her fingers through my hair as her hips thrust up against my face.

She made a slight attempt to pull away from me and I grabbed her thighs, keeping her still. I wanted her to cum inside my mouth; I wanted all of her. Her hips bucked, her legs twitching as she came, her cum spurting down my throat and spilling out of my mouth. I did my best to swallow all of it, but there was so much and she was just cumming and cumming and …

She let out a breathy whimper, her brow furrowing as I continued to suck her off, taking all of her in my mouth.

“Y/N … I need …” I knew what she needed.

I let her slip out of my mouth, panting softly as I took her in my hand, stroking her length until she hardened again. She was so receptive to me, so reactive, and I loved that about her.

I licked the tip of her cock, smiling when I heard her breathy moan, her little intake of breath as I continued to take her inch by inch into my mouth again.

She let out a mewl as I swirled my tongue around her length, and I happily sucked on the tip, as if she’d be the last thing I’d ever have in my mouth.

“Y/N,” she whined, gripping desperately at my hair. “Don’t stop.”

I took her as deeply as I could, tears pricking at my eyes as she touched the back of my throat. She twitched and throbbed against my tongue as she came again, her throaty whimpers and moans almost pushing me over the edge too.

“Baby … detka …” she finally spoke again, her voice low and accent thick. “I love you.”

I smiled up at her, lips and chin covered in her cum, and licked at the remains.

“I love you more.”

#oizysian writes #wanda maximoff fanfiction #wanda maximoff x y/n #wanda maximoff x female reader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff smut #wanda maximoff

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offthepages · 5 days

Text

And so, the stars aligned pt. 4

Azriel x Archeron!Sister reader

Summary: After realizing you are his mate. Azriel races back downstairs to tell the rest of the Inner Circle. Spoiler alert- they already knew.

Warnings: Mentions of past trauma, a very small bit of violence. Let me know if theres anything I missed! a/n: This is unedited, so we aren't talking about it.

Ageless and MDNI

Part One, Part Two, Part Three

Masterlist Requests are open!!

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

As the door to your room closed, Azriel found himself frozen in place. His heart was still racing. He can feel his soul reaching out to yours, calling for you to return. The one thing that he always wanted, more than anything in the whole world, was just beyond that door. Someone to call his. Someone to be his. To be someone’s. To have a place to belong. But that door was still in the way. And he could tear it off the hinges for its audacity to stand between you and him. He could rip the door open, watching as you looked at him with those big doe eyes of yours. Stammering as you'd try to hide the shock and ask him what's wrong. Only for him to cross the room. Pull you in and kiss you like his very life depended on it. As if you were air, and he was gasping for it. Your love was the tide that pulled him under, all-consuming. But he didn't feel like he was drowning, no. Never. You were his light, his dark, his everything. His salvation. You were perfect. He felt the bond and knew there was someone at the other end of it. Someone who would feel it with time.

And that thought seemed to pull Azriel out of his less-than-sober state. Whatever the mating bond had done to his head had consumed him. Made him unable to think straight, unable to use any common sense- or any sense at all. He needed to step away, needed to stop smelling your scent. His shadows pull him back, gently urging him to give you space. Part of it makes him smile, that they were so eager to protect you. Part of him looks at the shadows and glares. "Traitors." He mumbles, before going down the stairs. His heart heavy as he takes every step. You were so unaware of his feelings. You always had been, you pushed away any feelings for him in favor of Elain. He watched you do it, heard you talking in hushed whispers to Feyre and Nesta about her wellbeing. You used to join them, but then you just…stopped. That's when Elain started flirting more. It broke his heart to see you back down so easily. Azriel knew you didn’t have any friends outside the Inner Circle…and he felt you watch from the windows. How he wanted to reach his hand out to you, share his time with you the way you shared it with your sister…

His footsteps for once are not muffled, nor does he want them to be. It didn't matter who saw him now, he'd let them know he was there to protect you. So, he allows himself to walk naturally, feeling the weight of everything finally. His footsteps heavier with each step. As Azriel enters the room he notices how the party has slowly stopped talking as he enters. His brothers looked the most concerned, slowly they both stood. Az notes the way their gaze moves about his body, checking for injury. Their shoulders are tense as well as if they’re on edge about something. What he didn’t know, so he raises an eyebrow at them. "Azriel?" Rhys's voice is soft, and gentle, as if he is trying to tame a beast.

"Is everything okay?" Cassian asks next. His voice doesn't share the same gentleness that Rhys's did. But for Cassian, that was gentle. Azriel looks at him, Cassian's hazel eyes shining with concern as he steps forward with Rhys.

Azriel doesn't know where the sudden concern is coming from. He tries his hardest to will his face into one of neutrality. "Yes? Everything is fine." He assures them before trying to sidestep them. Rhys and Cassian grab onto his arms to hold him in place. Azriel is just confused. He looks back at Rhys and Cassian. "What?" His voice laced with that very confusion.

"You’re shaking," Rhys answers. "Your hands are clenched. You look ready to snap." He steps back, Cassian doing the same. Azriel looks down, slowly unclenching his hands, realizing that his siphons are swirling with power as well. Looking back up the stairs to see his shadows swirling outside your door, keeping watch for him to ensure your safety. He looks back to Rhys blinking and suddenly- he gets it. He gets why Rhys fell into Mor's arms screaming and crying that Feyre was his mate—understanding all the decisions Rhys made just to ensure her safety. Seeing why Rhys believed in her under that mountain. Understanding why Cassian fought so hard to try and save Nesta from the Cauldron. He understood how the view of the world changed in just a matter of seconds, and…how it felt knowing that they both figured it out before their mates did. How did they do it? How did they deal with the crippling fear that they might reject them? How did keep smiling? How did they keep it from consuming him? Rhys looks back at Cassian, both of them taking another tentative step toward their brother.

"Az?" Cassian's smooth voice, calming voice- he talked to hurt soldiers like that. Azriel knew that voice. Was that what he was now? A soldier on the battlefield again? Did they see him as the scrawny little kid that showed up at camp? At that thought suddenly he broke.

The tears fall quickly, and blindly Azriel reaches out to grab Rhys's shoulder. He hadn't realized the pain he'd been keeping in his heart. He claws at his shirt; wishing that he didn't have one, to begin with. Rhys pulls him in, holding him tightly. “Woah…” Rhys whispers squeezing him tighter. “Woah, we’ve got you Az. You’re okay. We’ve got you…” Cassian rubs his back- and Azriel knows that they're exchanging glances behind his back. But he doesn't care. But what he doesn't expect to hear is Mor.

"Azriel?" Her voice is soft, full of concern. And he looks up from Rhys's shoulder. Looking at Mor with a tear-stained face, his eyes growing puffier by the second as more tears rolled down. She held her arms up for him. Azriel pushed Rhys away, all but running into Mor. Falling into her arms as he cries harder. Mor's embrace is warm, her skin is soft. She was always so warm, like a sunny spring day. She smelt like vanilla and whiskey. Threading her fingers through his hair, brushing out the curls gently as she started to rock him. "Shh, shh, we’ve got you. What happened? Can you tell us what's wrong?" Her voice is so gentle, soft, and caring in a way that only Mor could manage for him. Azriel realized she was being motherly. He reached for a comfort he'd barely known. A mother's embrace, or in Mor's case; a sister's embrace. Pulling away, Mor wipes his eyes. Nodding she looked up at him with her warm, chocolatey eyes.

"She's my mate." He croaks. It felt so good to get out. It felt good to tell someone, pride surging through him. To declare that you were his. He was yours. You were one. Mor's eyes widened, looking back at Amren, Feyre, and Nesta. "She's my mate, Mor. An-and she didn't feel it, now suddenly I feel like I can't breathe. I feel like I'm drowning. I keep reaching for her but she’s not there. I-I’m panicking about her even though I knew she was right upstairs. Everything is racing. I'm in a free fall, my wings won't open and the ground is getting closer. Everything feels so-"

Nesta grabs Azriel's chin. Tilting his head up to look at her, and he expected to see an icy glare. Instead, he's met with an intense understanding. "You are not dying. You are okay. And you need to take a deep breath." She illustrates what she wants him to do by taking a deep breath herself. Azriel finds himself mimicking her actions, suddenly realizing what he had done. He wasn’t supposed to be weak. His tears were pointless, his pain didn’t matter. He stands straighter, clearing his throat. Looking down at the ground to avoid everyone else's gazes. Nesta continues, "You fucking Illyrian's love too hard." She scoffs, her tone laced with a playful amusement. Though there's also so much truth behind it. "Y/n will accept you as her mate soon enough. But you have to give her the space and opportunity to do so. But, for the record. I am very happy that she is your mate. And you better be good to her or I’ll make you suffer.”

“Nesta!” Feyre hisses, elbowing her sister as she scowls at her. But Azriel laughs, it’s short and quiet but it’s a genuine laugh. Everyone looks at him before he pulls both of them into hugs. Feyre squeaks, but holds onto him. Nesta stiffens but pats his back.

“Thank you…” He whispers, pulling away. Azriel shakes his head and sits on the armchair with a sigh. “I…don’t know what came over me.”

Rhys sits on one of the arms, clapping his brother in the back. “Love does strange things to people.”

“Especially in this family.” Amren rolls her eyes as she scans Azriel for any more signs of an emotional outburst. “But, I also know you haven’t cried in a long, long, time Azriel.” She gives the shadowsinger a pointed look.

Cassian sighs and plops next to Azriel’s other side. Ruffling his hair. “You had us worried there for a second. I thought she insulted you or something.” Cassian laughs, Azriel can’t help but smile.

“No…nothing like that.” He whispers.

Nesta goes to Cassian’s side. Immediately sliding under his arm and putting a hand on his chest as she leans into her mate's warmth. “How did it happen?” Nesta asks, her voice full of curiosity. Remembering her love of romance novels- it didn’t shock Azriel that she wanted to hear the details.

Feyre also made her way closer, sitting on the couch closer to Rhys. Tucking her legs under her as she nods excitedly. “Yes! Tell us all the details, it was my personal favorite, hearing Rhys confess.” She looks over at him and winks.

Azriel chuckles and shakes his head. “She seemed…sad.” He starts slowly, closing his eyes to recount. Picturing the way your eyes slowly faded into a blank stare. “So after she announced she was going to bed. I followed her, but I thought she knew. I ended up scaring her, and I felt this…this nagging part of my brain light up. Telling me to apologize over and over again. As if it didn’t like making that look appear on her face. So, I apologized. But, then she just started…laughing. It felt…different than all the other times. I saw this golden glow around her as if the sun had decided to come back up and only shine on her. And she put her hand on my arm-“ He smiles faintly as his fingers gently trace over the spot yours had been. “It felt…like I was seeing the sun for the first time.” His voice is softer than ever. “And she joked about her intentions with me and her laugh. It was…it was like I couldn’t breathe. She leaned into me, laughing so hard she was snorting, touching me and- and just being…happy. Being her. That was the moment. Looking down at her I knew. I wanted to hear that laugh for the rest of my days. I wanted to be the reason for that laugh. I wanted to pick her up, spin her around, and kiss her like a fish needs water…” He smiles to himself as he pictures you again.

“I’ve loved her for so long. But, but that was the moment I knew. I was going to be there for her no matter what. Her laugh is something I’d fight wars over.”

Nesta is grinning, tears brimming her eyes. “I haven’t heard her laugh like that since she met you.” And Azriel’s heart swells with pride again.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

The next morning as you enter for breakfast everyone’s eyes fall onto you. Blinking at them all you raise your hand to give a shy little wave. “Uh, good morning?”

“Good morning, did you sleep well?” Feyre smiles, Nyx perched on her lap as she offers him a slice of banana. You simply nod at her as you go to take your seat.

Nyx pushes away Feyre’s hand and exclaims, “Titi! Titi!” His little warms going upwards as he bounces in his mother’s lap. You, Nesta, and Elain all exchange glances. Looking at each other in a standoff of who can get to Nyx first. You move first, quickly running around the side of the table that Nesta wasn’t on. But Nesta, the Valkyrie, is quicker. Vaulting over the table- much to Rhys’s chagrin.

“Nesta!” He huffs looking at his plate of food with her handprint in it. Elain sprints around the other side, holding her arms out.

In a split second, darkness enveloped the room. Once it dissipates Azriel stands in the corner holding Nyx up. High above his head as the toddler giggles with glee.“Hello Nyx.” He grins with a triumphant smile. Your legs suddenly feel weak as you look at him. Only Nyx got him to smile like that. You look over at your sisters who are all as gobsmacked as you.

Nesta moves in first, on a mission to get her nephew. “You are not a Titi. So I will take him, please.” She gives an overly sweet smile as she holds her arms out.

Azriel considers for a second, but Nyx is happily playing with one of his siphons on his shoulders. Gently tapping it and watching the magic flow through it. “No, I think he’s content.”

Nesta goes to argue, but Elain steps forward. “Azriel…” She bats her pretty long lashes up at him. “Can I please see him?” She also holds out her hands as she smiles at her nephew.

Nyx again doesn’t respond to her voice. Now trying to munch on the Siphon. “It seems he’s still content.” Azriel shrugs, taking a slice of banana off of Feyre’s plate to give him instead.

It was your turn now and you were determined to win. “Azzy…” Your voice makes him pause. Good, you think. You hold out your arms and bat your eyes at him too. Trying to be as pretty as Elain was. “Let me see my favorite nephew?”

Nesta scoffs, “He’s your only nephew.” You shoot her a glare and look back up at the spymaster.

“Pretty please Az?” You pout, using the little sister privilege you honed. An impenetrable puppy dog face. And much to your delight- and your sister’s annoyance- Azriel crumbles. Earning snickers from around the table, all of which he glares at. Delicately handing Nyx to you and quickly moving as far- far away from you as he can.

Nyx looks up at you and grins. “Titi!” Your eyes shine with brightness and you giggle as you kiss his cheek.

"That's right, Nyx. Titi, the best Titi of all time." You coo, wrinkling your nose at Nesta and Elain. Nesta flips you off as she sits next to Cassian with a huff. And you chuckle as he wraps a wing around her, petting her hair as he offers her a bite of toast. Which she grumpily takes. You smile and sit with Nyx, settling him on your lap as Feyre passes you his plate.

Polite, and not-so-polite conversation takes place. Laughter fills the room and you for once, feel peaceful. Looking around this room filled with so much love. It was- almost too much to bear. But it all comes crashing down as Rhys gets handed a golden envelope. Golden waves were etched into it, along with golden flowers. It caused the conversations to die down as Rhys opened it. You follow his eyes, scanning the page. Watching his eyebrow raise in amusement as he passes the paper to Feyre. "What is it?" Mor asks looking or trying to look over Rhys's shoulder. Cassian stretches as well to try and see what is going on. Feyre holds it closer to her chest as she glares lightly at him. You hold back a snicker as Azriel's shadows loom behind Feyre- also trying to peak.

"It's an invitation," Feyre says simply, nodding as she looks it over again. Suddenly you watch Azriel stiffen.

"From. Who?" He grits out. Your eyebrows knit together in concern. But he doesn't look at you, his golden gaze still focused on Feyre. You could swear that from across the room you saw his eyes get greener. Feyre looks over at him and sighs heavily.

"Tarquin and Tamlin. They're hosting a ball to try and find a wife- or their mate." Feyre explains handing the letter over to Cassian. He greedily takes it, and Nesta pulls it down so she can read it too. Their eyes widened.

"It says they're requesting all unmated females." Cassian looks up at Azriel- almost like they were having a secret conversation. You snatch the letter from Nesta so you can scan it over.

Gasping and biting your lip, you look over at Rhys and Feyre. "Does that mean I can go?" You ask giddily, barely able to keep your excitement in.

Rhys spares a glance at Azriel and then looks back at you. "Would you want too?" His voice is tight. The room falls silent as it waits for your response. But you nod quickly.

"Yes!" You nod quickly, "It's like the fairytales we've read!" She looks over at Azriel, who refuses to look at you. His plate is the only thing that has his interest. But his indifference doesn't sway you. Letting your attention turn back to Rhys and Feyre, "It would be good! Like a show of good faith to send a member of the Night Court! Besides that, I wouldn't go for Tamlin. Not after what he did to you-" You look at Feyre with a gentle smile. Rhys takes hold of her hand, his thumb gently running over her knuckles. "But, I could find my mate there! Or hell I'd even settle for a boyfriend." You try to joke to clear the awkward tension. But all it did was cause Azriel to stand abruptly and walk out. Standing back up you go to follow him, but Nesta takes your hand, shaking her head. Sitting back down as you look at the letter.

"…It would be fun," Feyre says quietly. "We could bring the whole Inner Circle. It gives Amren a reason to see Varian. And we can show Nyx to everyone. You have the shields Hellion taught you, so you can protect us. It would be fun, we should go." She nods determinedly as she looks at her husband. Their eyes glaze over as they speak to one another but you look back at the door Azriel just walked out of. His shadows lingered around as if reporting what Rhys said. He sighed heavily.

"I'll respond with all that are attending." You squeal and rush over to hug him, kissing his cheek.

"You're the best Rhys! Thank you!" And warmth comes back to the room as your sisters smile at you. Immediately bringing up how they plan to doll you up.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Rhys's study door swings open as Azriel storms in. His siphons churning with power and the only thing that gives him pause is Feyre sitting on the desk in front of a chair. Rhys flanked her left, Cassian on her right. Amren and Mor are on Rhys's side. Nesta on Cassian's. Azriel glares at Rhys, "What is this."

Feyre points to the chair. "Sit." Azriel crosses his arms in a silent refusal. Feyre raises an eyebrow.

"Azriel we are not your enemy right now." She says gingerly. Trying a gentler approach, as if he would start crying again. His fists clench as he grinds his teeth.

"You are." He says simply. "You're letting her go."

"Azriel you know damn well that we give choices in this court." Rhys snaps, Feyre putting a hand on his chest. "I don't know why you suddenly think you can control her-"

"I know I can't control her." Azriel snaps at Rhysand. Their eyes meet and Azriel grits out, "But she is a mated female. And it is a slap in my face that you consider my mating bond so unimportant that what? Get another fucking Alliance? Like how you were gonna marry Nesta off to Eris."

"Azriel." Cassian snaps, standing to his full height. "You don't get to bring up my mate just because you're pissy." Nesta pulls him back. Her blue/grey eyes meet his as she steps forward. Cassian watched her like a hawk. But Nesta didn't balk.

"I was going to marry Eris because I didn't feel worthy of the love that Cassian was giving me. And the reason Rhysand wants us to go is so that y/n can be happy. Isn't that something you want for her Azriel? You know how we grew up, but did you know that y/n used to lay in our bed and ask me to tell her stories? She'd ask me about balls, what princes were like. She's dreamed of this. Finding her true love over there. So-" Nesta jabs Azriel's chest. "Suck it up."

Azriel's jaw tightened. And then, Rhysand spoke. "You won't be going." The room fell silent.

"What."

"Lucien got the same letter, he's requested that we not bring Elain. Elain is okay with that, they want to take this as an opportunity to get to know each other. You will be here to keep them safe and chaperone for Elain's comfort. You are silent, you are friends with Elain and it will give you time to sort out whatever is going on with your attitude." Rhysand tries to keep his voice even, and clear, end all be all. Azriel waited for the hypocrisy of the moment to hit him, but when it didn't.

"No," Azriel says simply. "No make someone else do it. I am not going to sit here while you cart her around. Pick someone else."

"That's not happening. She hasn't felt the bond yet Azriel. And trust me, I know how hard it is. But I let Feyre go-"

"She's not Feyre. She can't fight. She isn't your mate, she's mine and I have her best interest-"

"You have a possessive interest." Rhys snaps. "She is allowed to make choices."

Azriel looks at Rhysand with disdain. His nose wrinkles in anger and his shadows swirl around him. Siphons flicker as his temper grows. "I didn't say she wasn't." He tries to speak calmly. He was better than this. Azriel didn't need to lose his temper, he didn't even know where this was coming from. No doubt the mating bond, everything involving you made every inch of his skin feel too tight. Like he needed your touch to cool the boiling beneath it. He had normally kept his cool in the face of adversity, he didn't question Rhysand. But when you were in the fold? He couldn't stop it. The images of you coming home with your arms linked with Tarquin or- oh god- Tamlin? The images of how thin Feyre had been when she first arrived flashed in his mind. And then- you. You being that thin, in a gaudy and ugly wedding dress. Big, puffy sleeves and begging him down the bond to save you. "But I want to go with her."

Rhys looks at everyone and sighs. "Azriel. We all decided-"

"You decided? Decided that I wasn't allowed near her?" He growls.

"You all decided what to do with me." Nesta chimes in. Azriel turns to her with a fire in his eyes.

"We decided that because we didn't want to watch you drink yourself into your immortal grave. We wanted you to heal and the only way to get you to do anything, Nesta Archeron, is through spite. Telling you that you have to do something or you must. But even still we didn't separate you from Cassian." Azriel fumed. He had never been like this with anyone. So raw, so angry. Showing his baseline of emotions. He couldn't stop it, everything felt like it was about to boil over. So he looks back to Feyre. "Please. I am begging you, to let me go."

Feyre looks over at Rhys. Rhysand shakes his head. "No. Azriel it will look bad for you to claim her-"

It was a blur. Everything happened so fast. Azriel moved before he knew what he was doing. Everything in him screamed out, at the people whom he called family locking him away once again from something he wanted so badly. And he saw his Father and stepmother. Overseeing his visits with his Mother. Not letting him stay with her no matter how hard he begged. Keeping his wings bound to his back despite the need to fly. All he felt was that red-hot anger. His blood felt like it was scalding under the surface. His skin was simmering and he wasn't sure if he was actually smoking or if it was his shadows that curled around his forearms. His voice felt like there was a vice grip around it. Why?! Why was no one listening to him! Why didn't they understand? He didn't want to control you or tell you that you couldn't do something. He just wanted to be there. All he wanted to do was make sure that you were happy. He didn't want to play babysitter again to another set of mates. He just wanted to watch you shine.

He comes back into his own body to realize that he'd punched Rhysand. His black eye starting to form. Two strong hands were on his elbows as he was forced to sit. Cassian. They were Cassian's hands. Azriel calmed and eased into the chair. Rhys puts a hand to face blinking in shock. Looking at Azriel with one good eye. The room was silent. They could have heard a pin drop miles away. Azriel tried to open his mouth to speak but nothing came out. He hangs his head in shame, waiting for Rhysand to tell him to leave.

"Cauldron boil me." Rhysand laughs and kneels in front of Azriel. "You really think that?" He whispers looking at his brother with sincerity. "That all you are is a babysitter?" Azriel blinks and looks at him with wide eyes. "You said it all. Screamed it right into my head. Made me feel it." He gives him a gentle smile. "Az, that's not what I was trying to say." Rhys sighs heavily and shakes his head. "I didn't think you could handle it. That rage? I understand it. I felt it every day Under the Mountain, and every day when Feyre was with Tamlin. I don't want you to think I don't trust you. But I know it's hard to contain. Case in point-" He points to the black eye.

Azriel swallows thickly, still unable to voice his apology. ' I'm sorry Rhysand. I understand. I don't like it, feeling so angry. The bond just- amplified all of my emotions.' Rhys nods along to what Azriel speaks into his mind.

"It gets easier. For now," He sighs and shakes his head. "It might just be the better idea to bring you along. Being near her should help."

Azriel nods. Still looking down at the ground, and then he feels gentle arms wind around him. Nesta. "Thank you for being my friend." She whispers. Another set of arms wind around him. Feyre.

"Thank you for being our eyes and ears."

Another set of arms. Mor. "Thank you for always protecting me."

More arms. Cassian. "We are your family. And we never want you to feel like you don't matter."

Two more. Rhys. "I am the biggest hypocrite."

"Really." Amren's voice cuts through. But then there is a little scuffle as someone, most likely Mor, pulls Amren into the group hug. He hears her sigh. "…Thank you for punching Rhysand." The group laughs warmly. Maybe everything was going to be alright.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Your arms squeeze Elain tightly. "I'm very excited for you!" You say warmly. "I think you'll be a happier woman when we come back." You wink at her. Elain scuffs and rolls her eyes, but her cheeks redden at the idea.

"Well, I hope you come back with so many stories that I would be jealous." She teases you as she pulls you back and makes you sit on a pink stool. Looking at your reflection in the mirror, she brushes your hair out and helps you put it half up, half down. Something pretty and yet elegant. Finishing she looks at you in the mirror. "You look beautiful."

You grin, shrugging. "Thanks, Elain." Not knowing how to respond. "Let us know how it's going?" You hold up a pinky to her, Elain rolls her eyes and links your pinkies.

"I will write the most boring and mundane letters just to shock you with the truth when you get back." She teases. You feigned hurt before you heard Rhysand call for you. You and your sister share a giddy smile and you rush down the stairs.

The whole Inner Circle stands there with various bags, the 'ball' would be taking place over a week. With dances each night, not all of which were deemed mandatory- only the first and last night were. But you were going to be staying in a newly rebuilt Spring Court. Feyre had been nervous at first, but Lucien helped ease her nerves. Assuring her that they wouldn't be near the Manor and that Tamlin had completely rebuilt. It was almost unrecognizable. But none of that mattered, you were going to be going to every ball you could, dancing the nights away, sleeping in, wearing all the beautiful dresses you could. You were ready to take this ball by storm.

Lucien looked up at Elain, bowing his head. Your sister halted, and you gave her a subtle push toward him. "You look well," Elain whispers.

"As do you." He smiles.

Leaving the two to talk. You look over at Azriel, you haven't talked to Azriel since that morning. And he wasn't at breakfast the next day. So you took this opportunity to cross the room to his side. He looks down at you, giving a small smile in greeting. You smile back, "Azriel." You speak softly, suddenly feeling bashful. You hadn't known why he suddenly stopped coming around you, but you knew that you wanted to remedy it. You wanted him closer to you, you wanted your friend back. "Are you excited?"

Azriel looks at you with a raised eyebrow, his eyes have a glint of amusement in them. "You do realize that you're asking the biggest introvert here if he's excited to go to a ball."

You pout, glaring at him. "…you can lie to me."

That gets a chuckle out of Azriel as he extends a hand to you. "Then I am thrilled to go spend this week somewhere I'm not comfortable." You elbow him as you take his hand.

"Is there anything I can do to help you feel more comfortable?" You ask, tilting your head to the side as you step outside. Azriel lets his wings expand, quickly scooping you up into his arms. The others would Winnow to the house, but Cassian, Rhys, and Azriel wanted to fly. And so, Amren uncomfortably held Nyx. The toddler playing with her necklace as Mor got ready to Winnow. Rhysand scooped up Feyre, Cassian held Nesta, and… Azriel held you. Quickly shooting up into the air, a sound between a gasp and a squeal sounded from you. Holding onto Azriel tighter, you feel him hold you tighter before he leans into your ears.

"Just stay close by in case I need you." He answers. You blink up at him before smiling and nodding.

"I'll be right by your side." You promise. ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── a/n: I personally hc that the mating bond can be really intense and amplify every emotion- even if it has nothing to do with your mate. So Azriel being so on edge, is just because that man needs a fucking hug. Anyways!! I hope y'all enjoyed!!

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#acotar #azriel acotar #azriel shadowsinger #azriel spymaster #azriel x reader #pro nesta #nesta archeron #nesta x cassian #feyre x rhysand #feyre archeron #elain archeron #elain x lucien

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eratosmusings · 19 days

Text

Stolen Destiny (III)

summary: your limits are pushed until something snaps

warnings: adults only, all characters are over 18, smut in future chapters, blood, misogyny, dark themes, canon typical violence

word count: 2k

previous chapter / dividers / masterlist

Feyd-Rautha is in your dreams again. Black teeth, barking laugh. But it’s not the same. Eyes alight with something you don’t understand. Dress heavy and clinging. Nails dragging down your wet skin. Dagger in your hand pressing against his throat. Poisoned words on his lips. “You wear blood well, my darling.” His image fades as hands cup your cheeks.

The day that follows is endless. Finalizing preparations for the coming days of events. Fielding requests from the minor houses for a moment of your time. A meeting over concerns of recent tectonic activity that your absent father is supposed to attend. Two more run throughs of the dance. The swordmaster demands two more after dinner.

Irulan is entangled in conversation with Duke Leto throughout the meal. Nauseously you wonder when an engagement will be announced. It was the destiny the Atreides had stolen. Paul would be Emperor and you would be nothing but a disappointment. Your father toasts to how proud he is of the woman you’ve grown into. There’s no truth in it. You can only blink at the lemon tart that’s served for dessert as he promises he’s prepared a fun few days ahead.

When the meal is over you do not seek Fandral. You do the opposite and duck out of his sight at the first opportunity. He knows you’re supposed to return to the Small Hall and practice again. As comforting as his presence has been, you don’t want comfort or encouragement or protection. You want to stab something. Repeatedly.

The training yard is empty. The weapons are locked away, but you have the dagger Feyd-Rautha had gifted. You’d carried it with you throughout the day. Tucked away into the deep pockets of the borrowed gowns. You aren’t sure why today you felt the need to have it and not any other. Maybe you knew you’d need it. Or maybe you made the need for it because you had it. Either way, it serves your purpose.

The mannequin takes the blade with little resistance. It was natural in your hand. No matter how much or little pressure you use, it doesn’t slip and slice your palm like others do. A well made dagger.

You flick on the mannequin’s shield to test how well it handles the added strain.

“I am glad to see you enjoying my gift.”

There’s little resistance as you sink it into the stomach of the mannequin. “I am sick of pleasantries and pandering, na-Baron. Leave me be.”

Feyd-Rautha is predictable. You knew he would follow. You know he’ll take the chance to attack.

There’s the slightest whoosh of air that warns you. You evade the blade in his hands by millimeters, dodging to the right. You push the mannequin towards him. It knocks into him, unbalancing him for a moment long enough to twist your own shield on. His black grin is wide again as he recovers and stands tall. The dagger he carries isn’t much different from his gifted one. The handle thicker and longer, a few teeth in the blade, but from what you can glimpse it’s clear they had been made by the same hands.

He lunges, expecting your evasion and slices at where your throat goes. He’s too fast and it bounces off. You counter with a jab to his arm, slow enough that it strains his shield. He doesn’t give it the time to penetrate as his blade comes back again.

The dance continues. Both of you manage to knick the other occasionally. You feel blood seeping from a slash across your chest and more from one along your back. He has two along his arms and one on his hip. You’ve held well, but he is taller and stronger and you feel yourself begin to falter.

“Growing tired, my lady?” he teases as you barely dodge another attack.

“As would you under the weight of this dress.”

“I have no objection to you removing it.” He’s quick even after the extended duel. He strikes, and in your attempt to get away, he catches your hand and turns your shield off. The humming of his shield silences as you're pulled and turned until your back meets his chest. His blade is against your neck with a familiar chill and fingers digging into your hip. “Though it may tempt me into distraction.”

An unfamiliar fire blooms with the confession. “Careful what you share, na-Baron. I might use that sort of information against you one day.” Something twitches against your lower back.

“Let her go.”

The hand gripping your hip, the blade at your throat, and the warmth on your back are gone in an instant. You’ve never heard The Voice before, but it’s unmistakable. It’s not even directed at you, but your mind blurs and your body is pliant, as if waiting for its own command to follow. Fandral’s face blocks your view. He’s questioning if you’re alright, if you feel faint or dizzy. You can’t answer. It’s as if you're treading through the water again.

You’re turned and pulled again, but now you’re separated from Feyd-Rautha by your guard and Paul Atreides. The heirs point their blades at each other. Paul accuses him of taking and hurting you. As if you were some helpless damsel.

“Stop,” you say. It’s too quiet, your mouth numb. Fandral shushes you and tries to lead you away. You try again, louder, “Stop!”

Neither heir moves.

“I asked him to spar.” It’s only a half lie. Paul’s tense pose eases as he finally breaks his gaze off Feyd-Rautha. “I wasn’t taken. He didn’t hurt me.” Paul's eyes dip to your chest. “Not anymore than I did him, anyways.”

Fandral questions, “In an evening dress? Alone?”

“It is when she is most vulnerable.” Feyd-Rautha has lost his smile. “Given her security leaves much to be desired at the best of times.”

You can feel the loathing radiating from Fandral. But there is no denial.

You nod at your former opponent “Thank you for your time, na-Baron. It was very enlightening.”

“It was a pleasure, my lady. You fight like a Harkoneen.”

The fire he lit burns brightly on your cheeks.

“What was the point in asking for a personal guard?” Fandral huffs when you’ve returned to the palace. His jacket is around your shoulders to cover the slice in the back of your dress. He’d wanted you to see the doctor, worried again about poison, but you refused. “If you wanted to train, you should have asked me.”

“Or me,” Paul says on your other side. “He could have hurt you.” He doesn’t recognize the condescension of his concern.

“That was the point.” You have to stop yourself from touching the wound on your chest. “How am I supposed to know training has been effective if I’ve never faced real consequences?”

Fandral scolds, “If you stay with your guard, you’ll never be in a situation where you have to find out if it’s effective.” He shakes his head, pushing the door to the Small Hall open. It was the compromise he relented to. No doctor visit if you came here.

“You’re late,” the swordmaster calls out from where he stands in the middle of the room with a guard you recognize as one the Atreides’. His eyes travel across your mussed form. “I hope the other person looks worse than you.”

“He doesn’t.”

You glare at Fandral as the swordmaster decides that is a personal offense against his training and decides that practice will be doubled for it. It’s only as you look for the woman who always carries your swords that you realize she’s not there. None of the others are. But Paul still is.

“I shall see you tomorrow?” You hope he understands it’s a dismissal.

The question amuses him. “I intended to practice with you tonight.”

“With me?”

He smiles as if you’re missing something obvious.

The dance isn’t silly anymore. Fandral had been right. It does tell a story. One of submission.

There are no troubadours, only the sole Atrides guard who plucks at the strings of a Baliset. Your feet move in the familiar pattern, hilts of the swords bouncing against your hips.

Even without the additional instruments you recognize the melody. The blades gnash against their sheaths in protest as you pull them free. They shriek in the air, spinning easily between your fingers. Faster and faster they spin until the music nearly dies.

Once, twice you clink the blades’ together before you stab one into the plush stool. Fandral claps to the beat the drums usually play as you turn your back to it. The sword that remains drags its tip against the stone floor. Sparks follow when you twist quickly.

Paul stands there now, sword pulled free. He brings it in front of him as he drops into a defensive stance. The Baliset begins again now you fight. Thrust, retreat, parrie, circle, advance, lunge, parrie, retreat, parrie, parrie. On and on it goes until he flicks the sword out of your hand. You take the hand he offers and spin into him as the music reaches a subdued crescendo. Chest heaving, you stay there and stare into the eyes of the person who has taken everything from you until the music and the last of your dignity finally dies.

Three more times you are subjected to the humiliation. It will be once more tomorrow.

When Paul and his guard are gone, jolly at the surprise they’d sprung on you, you round on the swordmaster. He answers your unspoken question. “Your father did not want you to know until the last possible moment.”

“Perhaps you should wait until morning,” Fandral attempts to persuade you as he shadows you down the empty corridors. “Or at least remove your swords?” You don’t bother with a response.

The guards stationed outside his door attempt to stop you, but you’re quick to dip under their arms and push into the room. You're unsurprised to find a courtesan in his bed. There’s a scandalized shout from her and curses from him as they scramble to cover themselves.

“Get out,” you tell her.

Your father objects, but she is quick to comply. She pulls her dress from the floor and slips into it with practiced ease. She’s gone within a minute. The door closes behind her.

“You’ve gotten bold,” he growls.

“Why didn’t you want me to know?”

With a huff he says, “Because you wouldn’t have done it if you did. I told the Atridies you’d be too shy to do it if you knew and the boy thought it was enduring.”

“Why have me dance with him at all?”

He shrugs. “It was their suggestion.”

You stare at him. He’s pathetic. “You were wrong,” you tell him, bile on your tongue. “I would have done it if you asked. I would’ve done anything for you.” You leave before he sees the tears slide down your cheeks.

Feyd-Rautha doesn’t have a chance to visit you that night. Sleep never comes. Anger too potent to allow any rest.

When morning comes the maids work on making you presentable. There’s comments on the bags under your eyes and the new scar across your chest. You let them cover the former, but insist on keeping the latter. “Your father won’t like it,” one cautions. You're not inclined to care what he likes anymore. It’s something they soon realize.

They’re hesitant to style your hair in the way you instruct, but relent. Then the dress they offer, another of his choosing, is refused. You see their realization when you tell them what you’ll wear instead. Their efforts to sway you are in vain as you threaten to leave the room as bare as the day you were born.

Fandral stops in the doorway after the maids leave. “You look…”

You're still standing in front of the mirror. The dress is lilac, frilly and feminine in a way you’ve never been allowed. Your hair is braided, save for the pieces that frame your face. You look soft. Delicate. Like a painting that had been tucked away when you asked too many questions.

“Like my mother.”

There’s only one thing missing. The rogue lies abandoned on the vanity. It’s vivid enough that a single dab of the brush colors both your cheeks.

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headspace-hotel · 1 year

Text

some times i see people talking about the Earth and climate change saying things like "now i know it is difficult to deal with utter hopelessness, terror, and visiting the thoughts of death"

and it's like wow I am so deeply sorry about the suffering. but...concern. Concern. Tell me, am I missing something important? Why do I feel a sense of hope for our planet? Am I a lonely fool? Have I been consumed by naïveté and misguided optimism?

That would be weird. It feels weird. It feels like I would be well suited to despair. My natural temperament is Mortal Terror making my body crushed for a thousand years at the bottom of the deepest trenches of the ocean. I've thought before "I can't live any more. This exceeds the tensile strength of the human spirit."

And then? After irreversible catastrophic failure of the soul, there is...what?

We try to imagine the future where we fight to save our home and it is very painful. The resistance feels so small and the machine of death feels so vast. But something's missing.

Everyone else is missing—the plants, trees, bugs, beasts, and creatures. Hello? Are the other humans seeing this? Nature wants you to know that she is not a princess in a tower. Look! Look at the chaos moving through every cell! Iterating! Adapting! Becoming! Thriving! Watch the pollinators tirelessly at work, observe the mycorrhizal network in the forest floor distributing the rich fruits of decay and photosynthesis for every inhabitant! Pay attention! We belong here too. They feed and shelter us, give us the very air we breathe, and in return we plant and propagate, cull, thin, and burn, shape, trample, till, shepherd and sprout seeds. Our species can look toward the future, to the world of our descendants. We can call every plant and animal by name and teach our children to use and care for them responsibly. We can feel this anger, pain, and grief on behalf of the family of Life, OUR family, and we can love the smallest beetle and the humblest moss.

Look at it! This thing is nothing like me, it does not benefit me, it has no use or purpose for me, but LOOK at it! Look at its intricate structure! Look at the marvelousness of its behaviors and biological functions! Look at its uniqueness throughout the whole universe! Look at it, and see its infinite value!

I saved a baby tree from the scorching hot gravel of a parking lot. I watched it grow and thrive in the hands of its caretaker. Many more followed, trees and herbs and flowers, rescued and carefully placed in cups and old tubs that once held yogurt and sour cream. This is so strange, I thought. They're everywhere, offering themselves for free, and no one thinks to take them. Everyone thinks transplanting a tree is hard and that nothing grows on the edge of the pavement but weeds. But it's so easy??? This is weird. Plant Nurseries Hate Her: Get Free Plants With This One Weird Trick.

I protected an old barren garden patch where nothing had thrived from being mowed and weed-whacked, and transplanted little plants that I found. I marveled at the bees that came. Chicory bloomed, then asters and goldenrod. I shed actual tears over a spicebush swallowtail. I ordered some milkweed from the internet, and the monarchs came for them. Less then twenty-five bucks for a divine experience like this. Wow, everyone else really needs to know!

I started volunteering at a nature center, and was allowed to transplant flowers where they sprouted in inopportune locations. I collected tons of seeds all fall and winter long.

There is much, much more, all of it bigger than I ever would have imagined. But this spring there were more birds, in number and in species, than I'd ever seen in my back yard before. Chickadees, swallows, finches, nuthatches, jays, cardinals, warblers, sparrows, woodpeckers of every kind...I remembered just a couple years prior when all I ever saw out there was a couple grackles or starlings or robins, with the occasional sparrow. Those birds come in flocks rather than couples now. And then the bumblebee arrived. An American bumblebee, endangered now, a queen. For a few days she was always out there, would fly out and buzz around me when I came out to tend to my now-innumerable plants. It's nesting time for them. She chose this place I was creating. She saw that this place would take care of her.

A week ago, I discovered wild strawberries growing in my Mamaw's driveway. I found lyreleaf sage growing beside a gravel road. I've become a master of transplanting; I took several of each home. Yesterday, I saw a tiny, metallic blue bee, an Osmia mason bee. Today, I saw an oriole and a strange, very fancy fly. I see something new almost every day. Every day I am being irreversibly changed as a person. How did I ever fail to see how much this matters?

I said I feel hope...do I feel it? I don't think it's a feeling, I think it's a practice. It's being part of our communities and our ecosystems. Nature's interconnectedness is both reality and example: to survive, we take care of one another. And when one member of the community helps another thrive, it creates a cascade that increases the thriving of all. Just by existing, you help us all survive.

You can only take care of so many plants before you have to give some away. You can only hold so much knowledge before you have to give it away. I gave seeds to a dozen different flowers to my next-door neighbor and she invited me inside and wouldn't let me leave without food, and we talked about plants and trees. A family friend lets me have goats' milk and heirloom vegetables in exchange for help around the farm, and I listen to him talk about trees, bugs, and soil and learn so much I feel like I'm about to explode from knowledge.

Being a caretaker is unavoidably a community-oriented, community-forming thing. You can't grow plants all by yourself. Your garden will make too many tomatoes. Share them. Your milkweed will make hundreds and hundreds of seeds. Spread them. Wild blackberries invite you to take and eat. Your lonely retired neighbor invites you to talk and keep her company. Once you grow delicious fruits or little oak trees, you always have a reason to greet someone and say, "Look, it is a gift!"

We're not alone. We are not separate. We take care of each other. Every species, every individual. A single action of caretaking creates a cascade effect of thriving. A single unapologetic love for a creature creates a blossom of curiosity and fascination in everyone surrounding. It's so powerful.

As my chemical romance says "I am not afraid to keep on living"

#nature #community #plants #gardening #you are not separate from every other thing #the wonders #caretaking #plantarchy

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luvsellie · 1 year

Text

THE ATTRACTIVE THINGS NETEYAM DOES

always touching you. he is protective. there is absolutely no way to sugar coat this, and it is clearly demonstrated in atwow. your presence grounds him, and knowing you're there, right next to him, skin against his, instantly eases his conscious. he likes being the bigger spoon and splaying a hand across the expanse of your lower back when he's around you…he will completely blanch, though, if you're the one initiating something more intimate (back hugs, small touches or kisses on his shoulders, etc). however he LOVES to do it to you.

he is incredibly patient. as the oldest of four, patience is a necessity. he's mastered the ability to keep relatively calm when a situation calls for it. this includes when the two of you have an argument or disagreement about something. additionally, he is the type to give you space post argument. won't approach you unless he realizes he was 100% in the wrong or it's been more than a day of not talking to you. and if you're still a little bitter, he'll continue to stick around and patiently wait for you to realize how much you miss him.

luring you in by doing absolutely nothing. everything about him is just attractive. he could just be standing there and your eyes would still be drawn to him. he isn’t exactly aware, per say, about how alluring he can be, but he is definitely aware when your eyes are on him. once he's certain your attention is completely on him he'll show off or do things that make your cheeks heat and stomach do flips. he's a tease, there's no point in trying to deny it.

puts his entire trust in you and the relationship. now while he'll still get jealous at times (it's quite rare but definitely still happens), he trusts you completely. he thinks it'd be pointless not to, especially when you're already with him. you tell him all the time how happy you are with him, so why should he have any reason to worry, right?

constantly makes small quips and teases you. he loves to see you flustered and giggly, smiling so wide your cheeks ache. and one of the easiest ways to do that is to tease you about something…like he does to lo'ak, but less with the intention of annoyance. he especially likes to pester you about your height, always finishing off his taunting with something super flirtatious like, "but don't worry, my love, i like being taller than you. it makes me feel like i'm your sworn protector." he'll also comment on the size difference between your hands (!!!), always going on and on about how your palm was made to be pressed against his. "you're so small."

he's naturally competitive. this will undoubtedly lead to races on your ilu's/ikran's. neteyam likes the rush of adrenaline he receives when he's messing around with you—it makes him feel like a kid again. he can and will turn anything into a competition (only if the situation calls for it though!), and every time he intends to do this he's silently repeating the words take the bait, take the bait, take the bait in hopes of seeing your infamous eye roll followed by an "oh, you're on, sully."

gives you nicknames. as much as he likes the way your name rolls off his tongue, he loves the reaction you give him when he uses a nickname instead. at first he called you them to see you get flustered, but it soon became a sacred thing between the two of you. examples include (but aren't limited to!) my love, pretty girl, and babe.

his tail reveals EVERYTHING. no matter what he is feeling and/or trying to mask, his tail will give him away. every. time. for example, if he has noticed another na'vi get a little too 'friendly' with your smiling figure—this includes getting in your personal space or even touching you out of excitement—he won't outright say that he's jealous. oh no, this man will just let his gaze flicker between you both until you eventually return to him. and, of course, you notice his stiff stature, locked jaw, and swishing tail as you approach an obviously jealous neteyam.

#neteyam x reader #neteyam #neteyam sully #neteyam x female reader #neteyam sully x reader #neteyam x y/n #neteyam x you #neteyam oneshot #neteyam headcanons #atwow #avatar 2009 #avatar x reader #avatar the way of water #avatar way of water #avatar 2 #avatar twow x reader

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14thgalerie · 7 months

Text

the one

• pairing: theodore nott x riddle!reader

• now playing: hayloft by mother mother / you that i want by divine

• word count: 1.7k

• genre: angst, fluff, hint of smut

— short one that i kept thinking of.

Theo slumped in his chair, fatigue weighing heavily on him. The clock on the wall opposite him ticked relentlessly, unforgiving of his sleepless state. He had long abandoned any hope of finding any rest. He hadn’t been able to since that fateful night when everything felt right in his life.

His mind wouldn’t grant him solace. Each time his weary eyelids dared to meet from the pure exhaustion of the stress of OWLS, the ongoing war, his brain kept feeding him images of you. You, who kept haunting him from the very forefront of his mind.

The natural curve of your eyelashes. The way it fluttered against his cheeks as your lips made a blazing trail across his cheeks. Gentle whispers that drown him in sheer bliss still send shivers down his spine.

His tie lay abandoned, discarded beside him, next to the pile of papers swept aside in his frustration earlier. The long, emerald fabric had felt too suffocating amidst the overwhelming thoughts of you.

He couldn’t help but wonder if you would also be writhing in bed, unable to fall asleep as he does. Would your dreams torment you with the brief time his hands tangled onto your hair, wayward? Does your dormant body spin cruel variations of that time, telling him tantalising tales of what could’ve occurred if only your insufferable blonde companion hadn’t so abruptly interrupted?

He had never loved you.

Not in the way you wanted.

This desire to fill the emptiness in your heart, to have somebody give you the time and day has obscured that truth. A part of you knew, from the very beginning, but this desperation forced you to turn yourself blind.

Draco was there, a constant presence in your life, a perfect match to have by your side. Born only 24 hours apart, and 10 years of your childhood spent solely with him.

In truth, you both used the other, a fact that you ignored. He relied on you for protection and status as your partner, while you clung to him to feel the fleeting sense of warmth. But the perpetual storm of reality always wearing you both down and, you were rapidly losing the strength to keep yourself afloat.

Unspoken words hung heavy in the air between the both of you as the year progressed and the inevitable return of your father neared. At first, you had both kept your feelings at bay, not wanting this to jeopardise your friendship altogether. But as time went on, it became a routine. Venom spit from raised voices, threats of abandonment and indifference to each other, reconciliation accompanied by hollow promises and sex.

“Are you a bloody fool? She is my best friend and yet again, Draco ‘can’t-keep-his-boxers-on’ Malfoy decided that didn’t matter!” You screamed in frustration, but it didn’t seem to matter when he didn’t even so much as falter at the volume.

“We aren’t even together, so why should it?” He carelessly replies, an air of indifference surrounding him.

“We aren’t? You truly are an insufferable git, I spent two years committing myself to you, and you never thought to mention that little detail before?” You scoffed, incredulous at the idea. It was foolish and outrageous, and not at all like how the man you know would think. Despite your differences with one another, he would still treat you with at least the respect you give to a friend, but now…

“Oh please! Don’t act as if your mind has not been completely filled with that mindless buffoon.”

“For Merlin’s sake, do not dare turn this on me…” You challenged him.

“Or what? Threaten to have your father kill me? Well, surprise, darling, I’m no stranger to that already.” He humorlessly chuckles. “I’ve seen you. I’ve seen that god-awful lovesick look on your face at the mere sight of his back. I am not the complete bloody fool you think I am.”

It hurt, truly, despite the fact that this started as a hilarious excuse of a relationship. You cared for Draco and to see him constantly destroy everything and everyone in his path of destruction left you unable to conjure up any more excuses for him.

“I am done, Draco. We can stop whatever awful pretentious act we put ourselves to and live on our own as you seem to hardly care for even yourself anymore these days.” You laugh, defeat etched on your face.

He never gave you the love that you sought, the kind that Theo had laid bare in complete display for you in just under seven minutes in that tiny closet.

“You came back to me.” He whispers, close enough for his lips to touch the corner of your lips but there’s just a stutter of breath. It makes you want to instinctively kneel and look up to him and beg religiously for mercy, the way he speaks.

“I did.” You reply. Unmoving, but your patience wears thin.

“Look at you,” He mutters, his hand tugging at your head by your hair, exposing your neck to him, and your knees nearly buckle at his breath that burns against your jaw. “I haven’t even touched you properly yet and you’re almost like putty in my hands already.”

“Shut it, Nott.” You quickly remark a decision you notably regret when you are left standing in the middle of the room all by yourself. The cold air from the ajar window left your skin tingling with an uncomfortable feeling akin to when Draco touched you in the past weeks.

You scoff, the sound more as if you were nearly pleading. “What are you doing?”

“You know I hate it when you act like a brat.” He inclined his head, and the movement leaves chills running through your spine for the action is almost similar to someone sinister. But weirdly, it makes you want to tease him even more.

“Oh please, Theo. I’m not blind, as if you don’t dream of it.” You slowly approach him, your fingers make a motion of dragging along the ends of the poster beds. “The way I see your eyes tremble when I contradict every single thing you say. I know you are depraved when your thoughts are only of my mouth…”

You hear a sharp intake of breath when you come near. “The way you would just love it if you could shut me up by having my lips wrapped around you. I know you, Theo.”

His lips twitch into a mirthless smile, he reaches almost mindlessly for your collar. His thumb barely touches the skin of your neck. “Yes, you do.”

His eyes are intense as they dart to your mouth. Your tongue unconsciously makes a sweep against your dry lips.

“I suppose Draco will show me exactly how.”

Taking a page of this man’s book is terrifying but you are tired of this game of tug that you keep playing.

“That would be wise. ”

He’s still looking at your lips.

“I’ll go then.” You try again, unwilling to make the move.

“Go on, you won’t hear a sound of protest from me.” But you remain standing in front of him, the will to move weak against the desire to have him.

“Really?”

“No.”

Theo grabs the back of your head, tangled his fingers in your hair, and made a mess of your mouth. With his lips attached to yours, you grab him by his shirt and the both of you kiss as if you were third years again. Your teeth clashed into each other time and time again and you couldn’t find it in you to slow down.

The need to kiss him, to feel what you’ve been thinking of for several nights on end. You push back at him, desperate to feel the same hunger and need in him, as he kisses you deeper and more profound than you ever thought possible.

The soft, selfish hands that you wished so badly to wipe clean off the bodies of other women move up from the bottom of your back to move you impossibly closer until you are almost one. His voice is ragged when he pulls away, a thin thread of saliva still connecting you.

He says against your cheek, “I love you. I’d die for you. Nobody can ever give you what I could make the pain go away like I could, not even that dense fuck who has a deeper sense of self-preservation than his parents.”

You swallow, agonised by the sudden slow pace that he moves. Not an ounce of energy dared to waste to defend your ex. “I will love you anywhere.”

You shiver at the raw and pure intensity that laced the declaration. You almost want to ask, to hear how. But you don’t think your mind could properly comprehend the ability to piece together the right words to ask.

His heart is pounding from beneath your fingers as you feel the pulse on his neck, almost leaping it out as if all it wants is for you to finally claim it as yours. Encase it in a glass case and put it on display for all else to see.

“In a bookstore, by the water fountain, the sidewalk, in the flames of your home.” His hands come down to your hips, his fingers digging in so harshly that by morning sunlight, purple will be painted on your skin but it feels so heavenly that you don’t push them away.

“I love you, not for the protection you provide and for your substantial looks, but for all the small things you do that bear your soul to me.”

Your hands meet around the back of his neck as he carries you by your thighs towards his bed. Pulling at the fabric that keeps him away from you.

“I’ll love you even as you tell me you hate me oranges. I love you enough that I will scour the face of this earth for a place where I can take you away from your nightmares.”

“I-“ He sighs into your lips, completely delighted by the intimacy that only his mind could conjure up in the lone nights. “I love you.”

You move for the buttons of his polo, while he moves to pull your shirt from you. A race that leaves you both fumbling when you feel his hand carving a path against your waist and up to your chest. You are left scalding, tiny bounces of light flickering in your eyes.

“I will be at your string’s end.”

masterlist

#harry potter #theodore nott #theo nott #theodore nott x reader #theodore nott x y/n #theodore nott x you #theodore nott fluff #theodore nott angst #theodore nott imagine #theodore nott fanfic #theodore nott fanfiction #slytherin #theodore nott oneshot #theodore nott smut

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rboooks · 10 months

Text

DC X DP fic: Legal Compensation

Bruce Wayne doesn't know what sick monster would think it is funny to ruin Jason's grave, but when an alert arrives at the cave, he's flying towards the cemetery intending to find out.

And teach them some respect.

Of course, he knows Jason's not in there- not after his son returned with more hate and rage than a person- but it was still his last resting place.

He barely acknowledges Tim and Damian pulling up beside the Batmobile, each on their own bike while Dick, Steph, and Cass fly above him. They all got the alert. None of them are happy.

When they arrive, it's to see a teenager happily whistling as he shovels away layers of dirt. The stranger is in a white and black hoodie, a neon green ghost crossing from the front to the back, and his white hair with glowing green eyes lets them know it's not a human.

Or if it is, then not an average human. Meta, based on how he picks up way more dirt than he should be able to lift with his glowing green shovel.

They also see Jason get there first, his eyes glowing in Pit Rage and .points a gun to the back of the teenager's head. Bruce opens his mouth to shout, Damian manages to throw a ninja star, but they are far too late.

Jason pulls the trigger. A large bang is heard across the cemetery. The teenager drops into the deep hole he is making.

The family can only watch as the Pit Rage disappears from Jason's mind, and horror creeps onto his face as he realizes what he has done. It's too late now, though. The child is dead.

Bruce feels sick to his stomach- and then The teenager stands up, his head reforming in terrible familiar green liquid. The family forms a protective circle around a frozen Jason as the teenager turns around to look at them with Lazarus' green eyes and smiles.

Smiles at Jason with far too bright eyes. "I found you! I didn't realize you already left your grave, but that makes things easier. Jason Peter Todd, yes?"

"Who are you?" Bruce demands, stepping before his second oldest.

The white hair boy's smile becomes wider- if that's possible. "I'm Phantom. I'm working on behalf of the Ghost King."

Damian hisses, "What does the most powerful being in the multiverse want with Todd?"

"Baby Bat?" Dick asks without really asking.

"The Ghost King is the ruler of the Infinite Realms. The place where grandfather harvests the Lazarus Pit."

That's not good.

The teenager laughs. "The very same. He wants me to offer Legal Compensation to Mr. Todd."

"Legal Compensation? For what?" Tim asks this time.

"The glitch. See, Mr.Todd wasn't supposed to die- he was supposed to break the door and crawl to safety while the bomb jammed. At the same time, the Master of Time was preoccupied with another dimension saving the lives of six very important people to the Ghost King from a junk food explosion. Because of that, he was not there to control time correctly, creating a glitch in this universe's time flow. It speeded up certain areas, in your case, the location of the bomb's jam, making it explode earlier than it should have. He corrected it by bringing you back, but you were in a grave by that point. The Master of Time realized the grave injustice this was, so he sent me as legal Compensation."

That.... was a lot.

"How are you legal compensation?" Jason growls.

"Well, those people were just as important to me as the Ghost King. Since you lost your life due to the incident, I will give you my natural life here as a human for you to use." The teenager's form shifts after an ample bright light, and suddenly they are looking at a perfectly black hair blue eye average looking human who smiles happily at them. "Ta-da! So what do you want me to do first, Master Todd?"

"No." Jason hisses, looking angrier than he's ever looked before. Bruce can't say he doesn't feel the same way. "No, the Master of Time does not get to kill me. Go oopsie-daisy and then send me a fucking slave as an apology!"

"Not a slave- more of a- ugh Bulter!" The teenager argues, trying to crawl out of the hole and falling down, into a heap as he oversteps. "Wow, being a full human is going to get some getting use to."

"No!" Jason yells, turns around, and walks away.

"Wait! Wait! Master Todd, wait for me!" The teenager calls desperately, but Jason disappears into the shadows of Gotham without a backward glance. The boy slides into the mudd, voice muffled as he screams.

Steph takes pity on him offering her hand to help him out of the hole. "What's your name, by the way?"

"Phantom." The teenager says with a grateful smile taking the hand and climbing out. He gives the rest of the family an awkward smile "Danny Phantom"

Bruce ends up with another son by the following day. Jason ends up with a restless wanna-be butler who follows him everywhere, trying to serve him. The fact he cure his Pit Madness didn't seem to even register with him.

Jason wants Danny to leave him alone and quit the "I must spend the rest of my human life providing for your every whim". It's getting creepy.

#dc x dp crossover #Legal Compensation #Part 1 #Clockwork stepping in for Danny messed up other timelines #The glitch that brought Jason todd was that #Danny is now a full human meant to serve Jason as a sorry #Or is he????

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sapphicmsmarvel · 2 months

Text

azriel: mr loverboy

angst + fluff

“boy you keep on blowing my mind, caught up in my emotions.”

song: mr loverboy by little mix

Azriel always treated you kindly when you were just friends. But once that mating bond snapped, oh boy that’s where everything changed.

You didn’t think it was possible that Azriel could get sweeter than he already was but he quickly proved you wrong.

If he knew you had a bad day, he’d show up with your favorite flowers, candy or a new book. He always held doors open for you, made you walk on the side of a street that was least hazardous. Always listened to you, held you.

You made sure to return that in tenfold.

Because of past relationships, you kind of expected to see your partner have wandering eyes but as long as they came home with you, you always felt like you didn’t have a right to be upset. At least, that’s what they told you. But Azriel’s eyes never strayed from yours. He hugged his family but he held you differently. As if he wanted every part of your body constantly being pressed against his.

However, if someone randomly came up touching him, he would either flatly look at them disgusted or politely decline depending on the social situation. He didn’t like hurting other people's feelings but he knew your scent was on him as well as his whole ass wedding ring.

You and the Inner Circle were at a party in the Summer Court. Tarquin and his newly wedded mate had thrown a lovely gathering. Tarquin even temporarily lifted the ban on Cassian. As long as he didn’t go anywhere alone.

You were too used to seeing multiple people throw themselves on your husband. But he didn’t even look at them. He kept telling them no and they just wouldn’t listen.

But this night, a night of love and celebration, you watched one girl just push it a bit too far. You could see your mate trying to politely turn her down and not cause a scene that would distract from the newly wedded couple.

So you did what anyone else would do.

Walked your sexy ass over and plopped down on his lap. Put his face in your hands and gave him a big ole kiss. You ignored the snickers from his brothers and the gasps from the girl and just focused on him. He kissed you back eagerly. His hands coming up behind your back and holding you.

You two pulled away, he smiled, a glimmer of affection and pure warmth was sent down the bond. “What was that for?”

You smiled, “I just wanted to.” You didn’t wanna admit it was jealousy. However, your husband wasn’t stupid. He smiled knowingly and you rolled your eyes. You turned towards the girl and she had already left.

Satisfied, you turned towards where Azriel was facing. You saw the Inner Circle giving you shit-eating looks. You did something no one would dare do to their High Lady however you got special privilege. “Shut the fuck up.” You murmured. She threw her beautiful head back and laughed. She knew all too well how you felt about Azriel’s admirers. She felt the same about Rhysand’s. Nesta tipped her glass to you, she also knew what it was like fighting off the admirers.

You leaned back against the warmth of your mate. A welcome contrast to the cool summer breeze on the patio.

After a bit more dancing, Nesta and Cassian retired to bed, Rhysand and Feyre quickly following. After a quick goodbye to the happy couple, you and Azriel began a walk by the beach.

“So do you prefer the sandy beaches or the rocky beaches of the Night Court?” Azriel asked you.

“Honestly, I’ve always hated sand. Blegh, the herpes of nature.” You shuddered.

He let out a loud, unguarded laugh and you found it the most beautiful sound. Usually, after a comment like that, your past partners would scold you.

But Azriel embraces you. He held your hand even tighter.

“But we wouldn’t be able to be barefoot in the Night Court.” He argued. “Yes, but we also don’t know what germs are touching our naked feet. I’d rather have protection. What if you step on glass in sand?” You said back.

He gave you a pensive thought. “It seems we agree to disagree.”

“You like the sand?” you asked softly. You’d put up with it for him. You’d put up a lot for this man.

“I don’t know what it is. It just feels nice.”

“Then we should look into a vacation rental here.” You squeezed his hand.

“No, no you hate-”

“Hey, I hate sand but I can put up with it if it means I get to wake up to your sexy naked body in the sun.” You gave an overdramatic shiver. “Lord, they’re gonna have to put me in church for the thoughts I just had about you.”

He let out another laugh, you wanted to preserve it in a jar and just open it to hear it. “Besides, a vacation rental would be nice. Just imagine,” You held your hand out in front of you as if to paint a scene. “A nice cabana, windows and doors wide open, curtains blowing in with the breeze. Fresh fruit and seafood waiting for us. The smell of sex and ocean water. A goddamn wet dream.”

But when you turned your head, you just saw him gazing at you full of love. “I’m looking at the only dream I’ll ever need right now.”

Your blush could’ve rivaled the earlier sunset. “Sap.”

“You love it.” “More than anything.” You said, all traces of joking gone.

You somehow were able to hold him tighter as you two continued walking

“Thank you for earlier by the way.” You whispered.

He looked confused, “what?”

“You didn’t entertain that random girl. I appreciated it.”

“You…you don't need to thank me for not looking at other people?” He was even more confused. “You’re my mate. My wife. You come first, always and forever, baby.” He brought your interlocked hands up to his lips to kiss your hand.

You got a bit embarrassed. “I’ve never been anyone's first choice, so it’s kind of crazy to me that I’m yours.” You admitted.

His heart slowly broke that you had never had someone treat you like this. He pulled you both to a stop. “You’ll always be my number one. Even above the Night Court. Above it all.”

“I’d never ask you to put me above your job, Az.”

“I know, hence why you’re put above it.” He pulled you in to kiss your forehead. “You deserve the best, better than me, I don't know how the Mother paired-“

“Shut up,” You snapped with no real bite. “You’re wonderful Az, I’ll always tell you that.”

He conceded, “we’re perfect together.”

“Fuck yeah we are.” You said bringing him in for a kiss.

#azriel x reader #azriel shadowsinger #azriel acotar #azriel x reader fluff #acotar #acofas #acomaf #acowar #azriel x you #azriel x y/n

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moonstruckme · 3 months

Note

happy new year lovie!!!! i feel bad for requesting this bc just thinking ab the volume of ur inbox is a little overwhelming and ive gone a bit overboard 😭

but..... bodyguard!james finds out his mum is quite sick right before his shift one day and leaves to take care of her after letting reader know. he has to take the week off and reader is visiting and bringing them their favorite homecooked meals everyday (which she has memorised bc, bless him, james loves to talk abt his mum) and james is LOVEEESTRUCK. she's there, bright and early every morning (with a different bodyguard bc god forbid she leaves the house with no protection right in front of james' own two eyes!!!) with muffins and flowers and bags of food in hand :( james is enamored and so sweet on her!!!!! and reader is obsessing over how vulnerable and emotionally in tune james is at a time like this!!!!! i'm thinking maybe confessions are getting pretty hard to hold back by the end of the week ☹️🩷

thank you! (if you do decide to write this or if you dont for letting me ramble on in your asks x)

Don't feel bad my love! Thank you for requesting :)

cw: sick family member

bodyguard!James x fem!reader ♡ 1.3k words

No matter how many times James has visited home throughout his adult life, he always manages to discover something he’s forgotten about living there. Like how particular his mum is about the way the dish towel is folded, or which drawer the scissors are kept in, or the ungodly amount of door-to-door salesmen that come by on a daily basis.

Lately, he’s being plagued by the last. He recalls them being vaguely annoying when he was younger, but James’ family is currently going through a difficult time that leaves one with somewhat frayed nerves. He very nearly snapped at a particularly tenacious primary school student selling chocolate yesterday. Not one of his finer moments.

So when the doorbell rings while his mum is trying to sleep down the hall, James has to make an effort to reel his wrath back in before he’s even answered it.

Funnily enough, any negative emotion completely evaporates when he sees you on the front steps.

“Hi,” you say, looking apprehensive.

“Hi,” James echoes. He opens the door the rest of the way, nodding to the fill-in guard you’ve brought with you. “Hey, Singh.”

Singh nods in return.

“I hope it’s alright that I just came by.” You give him a sheepish sort of smile. “I didn’t even realize I don’t have your phone number until now. You’re always just…there.”

James laughs, the mood that’s descended over him since getting the call about his mum lifting slightly. “Yeah, I suppose I am. What brings you out, sweetheart?”

You hoist the bags you’re carrying a bit higher in your arms. “I brought some stuff for you and your mom, if that’s okay.”

A tiny hand fists around his heart, squeezing pleasantly. “Course it is,” he all but coos. “Come on in. Singh, you alright to stay here and keep watch?”

Luckily, the other man doesn’t think to remember that James is currently on leave, and so defers to him with a curt nod. James shoots him a smile as you come inside, closing the door behind you.

“They put Singh on day shift?” he asks, taking one of the bags from you and leading you into the kitchen. “He’s barely finished training.”

“He seems fine,” you say in your good-natured way.

“He took you to a location that’s never been reconned without even bringing another guard to post outside.”

“It’s your mom’s house, Jamie.” The smile is evident in your voice, sweeter even than the smell wafting out of these bags. God, he’s missed you. “I doubt he suspects either of you are going to try and hurt me.”

“He should be prepared for the possibility,” James says, but he can’t manage to work any menace into his tone even to tease you. You tilt your head at him, mouth curving up to one side like you’re well acquainted with his particular brand of silliness, and he lets his grievances go instantly. “You didn’t have to bring us anything, angel face.”

You flush a bit at the endearment, directing a soft smile down at his family’s old wooden table (which is great, because now James is in the position of being jealous of a table). “I wanted to do something,” you reply simply. “How’s your mom?”

“She’s alright.” Not great. Not worse, which is always good. If the only thing he accomplishes in a day is that she doesn’t get worse, James can feel good about that. “She’s sleeping in this morning.”

“Oh, shit.” Your voice drops to a hush like the breeze blowing through leaves. “I haven’t woken her, have I?”

James grins. “No, you’re good. She can sleep through anything.”

You lose a breath. “Right, well I brought some meals to last you a few days,” you say, digging some containers out of the bag. “It can all be heated up whenever you’re ready to eat, and—oh, also some flowers. I know it’s stupid, but I thought they might brighten things up for you two.” James doesn’t think it’s stupid at all, but you go on before he can tell you so. “Can I put these in your freezer? I brought some muffins for this morning too, if you want them.”

“Yeah,” James says, the word leaving him on a breath. “I mean, yeah to both. Thank you.” He grabs several of the containers as well, showing you to the freezer. You both start cramming them in between things, wherever they’ll fit. He takes note of the food as it goes in, a heady warmth growing in his chest. “Did you make all of this?”

You hum in brisk affirmation. “I had plenty of time on my hands yesterday. Turns out things are pretty boring without you around.”

“How’d you know what to make? This is all—these are our favorites.”

You turn to him, a tenderhearted sort of smile curving your lips. “You talk about your mom a lot, Jamie,” you say. “I know all her favorites by now. And the things she’d make that were your favorites, too.”

James hadn’t realized he’d spent so much time rambling about his mum. It hurts his chest a bit to think of it now, worse to think that you’d been listening so intently.

“This is only really enough to get you through a few days,” you go on, oblivious to his yearning, “but I figured I’d come back with more if you’re both alright with it.” You look at him as you pack the last of the food away, your gaze careful. “I don’t want to intrude or anything.”

“You could never intrude.” James isn’t sure how he gets the words out, his heart ballooning until it’s nearly cutting off his airflow. The cool air breezing onto one side of his face stops, and he realizes you’ve shut the freezer. “This is just…so, so kind of you. I don’t know what to say.”

“James.” Your voice is soft. Your smile has faded, and now you look at him with an unabashed, steady kindness. “You don’t have to say anything. I can’t stand the thought of you and your mom going through this. I wanted to help, somehow.” One of your shoulders comes up in a sheepish half-shrug. “Even if it’s really small.”

He wraps his arms around your shoulders, and you hesitate only a second before bringing your arms around him too. You squeeze him tight. James lets himself relish the feel of it, lovelorn. “It’s not small,” he says fervently. “It really…it means a lot, sweetheart.”

You only squeeze tighter in response. When he lets you go, your gaze is sad. Worried. You ask without prelude, “Are you doing okay?”

James gives you a half-smile. The truth of it. “Yeah, we’re alright over here. It’s hard to see her like this, but I think everything’s going to be okay.” You nod, solemn in your understanding. “Sounds like I might be doing better than you, actually, if your company’s bad enough that you’re entertaining yourself in the kitchen all day.”

You crack a smile at that, and James’ heart lightens. “Yeah, Singh’s no you. He doesn’t seem to like to chat.”

“Ahh, so that’s why you’ve really come out here, yeah? You just missed me.”

“You’ve caught me.”

It’s said like a joke, but James’ pride inflates foolishly nonetheless. “I hate that I can’t be there,” he says. “Especially now that I know they’ve put Singh on my shift.”

“He’s not so bad,” you laugh, heading towards the table. You fold up the bags. “Anyway, it’s more important that you’re here. And I’ll be back in a couple days to restock you.”

James fixes you with a look as you start for the door. “You really don’t have to.”

“I’m going to,” you say breezily. “Don’t forget to put the flowers in water, and the muffins are strawberry chocolate chip.” He grins. His mum’s favorite. “I’ll tell Singh you were raving about him.”

“Oh, please do.” He rolls his eyes, feeling lighter than he has in days. “Thanks, angel.”

You shoot him a smile worthy of the moniker as you go out the door. “See you in a couple days, Jamie.”

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apomaro-mellow · 8 months

Text

Hospitals still weren't Eddie most favorite place to be, even though they had technically saved his life once. He didn't give doctors the credit though. No, he reserved that praise for his husband who had literally carried him through hell, holding his guts together.

But alas, he was still only human. And thus prone to human ailments. Which was why he was currently in a hospital bed, preparing for a tonsillectomy.

"Steve, my love, my muse", Eddie took his hand and kissed it. "Should I not return from this-"

"Oh shut up. It's a routine operation." Steve could tell he was being dramatic to cover up the fact that he was actually scared. "You'll be fine. In fact, I'm going down to the cafeteria right now. You're not getting just any ice cream. I'm gonna bring you back a whole sundae."

Steve looked to the rest of the band, who had come for moral support. "Watch him please. And don't let him fall to hysterics." He left out, really hoping he wouldn't come back to an Eddie in tears.

"Sooo", Grant started. "If you don't make it, who gets your house?"

Eddie's brow furrowed. "Uh, my husband, duh?"

"Okay, who gets your husband?", Gareth asked.

Eddie saw the cavalry arrive in the form of Steve's true soulmate. "Robiiiiin", he whined. "You have to protect Steve from these vultures", he hissed the last word.

"We're just trying to hash out who has dibs on Eddie's hot husband", Jeff said.

Robin pointed to herself. "I made it clear to Eddie when he proposed that should the marriage end, either naturally or by divorce, custody of Steve would revert back to me."

"Not exactly the answer I was looking for Bucks, but as long as you keep Steve out of another man's clutches, I won't haunt you from the grave."

"Actually, I plan on setting him up with the first wealthy guy he meets", Robin said. "Thanks to your fame, I've become accustomed to a certain lifestyle. And also, Steve doesn't know how to be single."

The other CC boys nodded sagely.

"All the more reason one of us should get him. We can take care of him", Grant said.

"I can't believe this. This is a goddamn coup!", Eddie shouted.

Steve returned, none the wiser to their conversation. "You won't believe this. The cafeteria has chocolate syrup AND nuts? Isn't that wild? You're gonna have the best sundae of your life, babe."

He took his seat right next to Eddie's bedside and kissed his forehead.

"Angel, we're surrounded by snakes and thieves", Eddie said deliriously.

"What are you talking about?", Steve asked.

Having only Eddie in his line of sight, he couldn't see the others behind him. So he didn't see Jeff making kissy faces, Gareth making a circle with his hand and sticking a finger through it repeatedly, or Grant making a V with his fingers and flapping his tongue between them.

"Those traitorous lechers covet what is mine. And not even Robin seeks to protect your virtue!", Eddie said, desperately reaching out for Steve.

Steve kept his voice even and calm, trying to soothe his husband from whatever delusion he was having when the doctor came in. This guy looked like he played a doctor on tv. Chiseled jaw with perfectly manicured facial hair.

"Good evening", he greeted.

"Hi", Steve said, voice a little breathy.

"Oh he's perfect", Robin said, reading her friend perfectly.

"I'm Dr. Morip, I'll be performing your operation today."

"Morip?", Eddie tilted his head.

"Yes, as in 'more ripped than you'." Then he flexed and busted out of his scrubs and swept Steve off his feet, ignoring the cries of the invalid on the bed.

Eddie was tossing and turning even as Steve shook his shoulders to wake him up.

"You were having a nightmare", Steve spoke softly in the dim lamp light of the hospital room. "Was it 86 again?"

"Steve!", Eddie clung to him as best as he could. "You didn't leave me for Dr. Morip!"

"Dr. Morip? Eddie, her name is Dr. Hudson. And she's married and in her sixties."

Everything caught up with Eddie as his brain became more lucid. He'd already had the operation. That had all been a dream. The tension released instantly as he realized he wasn't about to die on the table and Steve would be scooped up by opportunistic friends.

"You're mine, you know that?"

"Really? Is that why I'm hand-feeding you ice cream?", Steve teased, holding up a spoonful to Eddie's lips.

"I love you", Eddie said, voice muffled from the food and a little watery too.

"I know, you dope. Love you too."

#apo writes #stranger things #fanfiction #steddie #everybody loves steve

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adnauseum11 · 3 months

Text

Entry Control Point (John Price x Reader)

You spend the night at John's for the first time since you started dating. You have a revelation.

1.5k words

CW: nipples

This has been idling in Teen but the spice level is going to take a jump shortly, sorry if that's not your thing.

You are so used to John’s steady presence in your life that you can almost forget that things have changed between you. Except in moments like this, that forcibly remind you - he’s allowed to have his hands in certain places now. You find his touch creeping up on you, a natural extension of the familiarity you had before. It takes a minute for you to notice it, but when you do -

“What are you doing?” You elbow John in the ribs just this side of gently. His big hand has drifted off your back and is in your back pocket, cupping and squeezing your ass cheek.

“Hmm?” He’s going for innocent but looks too pleased with himself to pull it off properly. His beanie hat is tugged low and his collar turned up against the cold.

“Knock it off, you absolute muppet.” You struggle to create daylight between you, realizing belated he’s been slowly reeling you into his body as you walk back to his flat after dinner.

John grins, the expression taking years off his face and making your heart swell in your chest, suddenly feeling too tight. You won’t tell him that though, because he’s pinching the material of your back pocket in between his fingers and tugging you back against his big, solid body. You half-heartedly swat at him but give up, letting his warmth bleed in to your side.

“Took an entire city block to notice, love.” He murmurs, bending slightly to deliver the words close to your ear.

“It did not, stop being a nuisance.” You huff with ill-hidden amusement, pausing for a traffic light to change.

“Can’t help it, you drive me to distraction.” John retorts immediately, returning his palm to your lower back in a protective gesture as you wait for the light together. You roll your eyes but lean into him anyways. You stay wrapped up in him for the rest of the walk back in contented silence, a full belly and brisk night bookending your night.

It isn’t until you get through the front door of his that you realize the time. You freeze, half your jacket buttons undone as you try to decide what to do. John notices, because of course he does.

“Bit late to head back to yours now, innit love?” He’s using a careful tone of voice as he stills, watching you struggle internally. You know if you ask, he’ll take you home right now, but he’s right. It’s getting late to ask him to run around the city.

“Yeah, probably.” You say haltingly, your hands going back to the buttons slowly. John’s working hard to keep the triumphant smile off his face, but you know him too well.

“John –“ You begin a warning but he’s got his hands up in supplication before you can finish the thought.

“Everything will be above board, darling. No pressure from me. I’ll sleep on the couch, yah?” His accent deepens and you narrow your eyes at him, undoing the buttons with purpose now.

“Stop being ridiculous, you’re not going to sleep on the couch. If this is some reverse psychology shit – “

“Never.” He shakes his head and takes your coat from you, hanging it up beside his own. His warm hands fall on your shoulders, massaging gently through your shirt as he steers you into the living room. ‘Unless it’s working?” His tone hopeful.

“John!” You admonish and he chuckles, his broad chest bumping against your back.

“Just teasing love, just teasing.” He soothes, dropping a series of kisses into the juncture of your neck and shoulder, the mixture of heat from his lips and scratchiness of his whiskers making you shiver. “Since you’re not going home do you want to watch something before bed?”

He backs off, giving you space to fold yourself into your preferred position on the end cushion, tucking your feet up against the armrest. He leans over to grab a well-worn blanket off the back of the couch, conspicuously the most feminine thing other than yourself in the room. It’s white and thick, still soft despite years of use. It has edges that end in loose threads of yarn and has simple geometric shapes woven into the pattern. You got it for him years ago, an early Christmas present before he shipped out on mission. It has never actually left his flat, so it retains its creamy white colouring. You’re fond of braiding the loose ends together while watching movies.

He drops onto the cushion beside yours, one large arm going over the back of the couch, bracketing you into his body. You instinctively lean into his bulk, tucking yourself under his arm and taking control of the blanket. He kicks his legs up onto the coffee table after swiping the remote, sprawling his longer form as best he can without losing any space between you.

You are part way through an old Top Gear re-rerun when something finally clicks into place. Your cheek is pressed against the hard plane of muscle that is John’s pectoral, half watching the show and half focused on his steady heartbeat. His fingers are buried in your hair, running through the strands absently. Every gentle tug making goosebumps run up and down the back of your neck, melting you a little further into him.

The blanket, driving you home regardless of the hour, the previous fist fights with bad boyfriends – it all crystallizes in a moment of clarity as Richard Hammond screams across a rickety footbridge in an ancient Bronco, making the man at your side chuckle lowly. John Price has been sweet on you for some time. He’s just…never acted on it. And you, without any overt overtures of interest had just assumed that was how John operated. Had never seen any indication of anything other than a man chivalrous to a fault. You speculate on his retirement and the timing of his interest, losing track of what’s happening on screen. You only realize its over when John sits up, shifting you against him.

“You alright?” Concern is colouring his tone.

“Yeah, zoned out. Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize darling, ready for bed then?”

You’re loathe to move, wanting to stay cocooned with him while you process your revelation. Going to bed will raise its own anxieties, none of which have anything to do with John and everything to do with your fear of losing an important relationship in your life should this go sideways. Never mind it’s been over two decades and he’s not turned away from you yet.

“One more show?” You ask, turning wide eyes on him. He relaxes against you again and you burrow into his side, grateful for a chance to mentally play catch up. You resettle your ear over his heart, feeling it’s comforting thump while you turn over interactions in your mind. Looking for clues, the world’s most inattentive detective. You lose track of the show again and are startled anew when John sits up, swinging his legs off the table to stand.

“C’mon sleepy head, let’s get you ready for bed.”

“I don’t have anything –“

“You can wear whatever of mine you like, but maybe think about bringing some stuff over, hmm?” He’s wrapped around you from behind, steering you down the hallway to the bathroom, reading your mind. He hands you his toothbrush, letting you use it first and disappears to gather a shirt for you to sleep in. You stare at the toothbrush in your hand dumbly for a moment before using it. John swaps you the utensil for a shirt when he returns and goes about his business. You catch his eyes following you in the mirror though.

The shirt in your hand is soft and familiar to you, an old one won playing darts at a pub. A good memory, filled with laughter and beer-soaked floors. Before you can think too hard you begin undressing, tossing each item haphazardly over a leather club chair in the corner.

You can feel your nipples harden in the air of the room, and as you lift your arms over your head to pull John’s shirt on you hear the clatter of his toothbrush in the sink. A muttered curse follows and by the time your head pops out of the neck hole, he’s gripping the counter and blatantly staring at you in the mirror. All the muscles down his arm are corded, as if he’s gripping the slab of countertop with all his strength.

“Are you alright, John?”

You ask innocently, and watch him swallow hard in the mirror. He nods and turns off the bathroom light, padding slowly over to you. His big palm lands on your lower back, wordlessly steering you to bed. You can’t help the rush of nervous anticipation at his nearness, but John is as good as his word. He doesn’t pressure you and lets you sleep, the both of you settling into his big bed with contented sighs. No, it’s when you wake up, wrapped around his powerful body that you should have had the foresight to be concerned about.

Next Chapter

#john price x reader #john price x f!reader #fanfic #captain price #call of duty #sleeping together #established relationship #captain john price #falling in love #friends to lovers #john price #consent

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