#she is going to bury it deep and mask

[mollykawamotoart]

Last session was rough.

We lost Eddisar*

*This was a planned event between player and DM. It was peaceful, poetic and FUCKING PUNCH TO THE EMOTIONS. 

#dnd #dnd out of context #dnd doodles #dungeons and dragons #dnd 5e #tiefling #makera #aiben #and true to kera's ways #she is not taking the proper steps to grieve #no sir #she is going to bury it deep and mask #she is v quiet now #this will only blow up later

[thisblogisaboutabook]

Baby, Mine

Azriel x Reader - Angst/Fluff - One shot

Rhys returns from under the mountain and Azriel’s life is changed forever as a bond snaps with the female his brother brings back with him. After an unexpected pregnancy is revealed, Azriel strives to show his mate just how much she and their child mean to him. Please read warnings below.

Warnings: discussion of rape and S/A, pregnancy resulting from rape, mentions of trauma, language, mention of pregnancy termination

“We should get up. My stomach’s growling.”

“And I thought it was just the little one chatting with my shadows.” Azriel teased, flushing beneath her gaze as his scarred fingers traced lightly over the growing swell of her abdomen, becoming more apparent by the day. He’d been nervous touching it for the first time, like he’d desecrate that precious life force growing underneath with his hands that had inflicted so much pain. But the way her eyes lit up the first time he touched it, he never wanted to forget the feeling of love and joy radiating into him through that newfound bond. It was beautiful - made him feel worthy of helping raise the beautiful life she was bringing into the world.

Though her stomach growled again, she made no move to get up, and by the way her hands were holding onto him, Azriel knew better than to go retrieve a plate from the House of Wind’s kitchen for her. So he sent a shadow beneath the door to see if Nuala or Cerridwen were there and if they could bring leftovers in, that is if Cassian and Mor hadn’t devoured the entire breakfast already.

“How’s she doing?” Rhys asked into his mind.

“Better than some days but not great, Rhys.”

There was a pause before Rhys’ guilty voice reentered his conscious.

“She’s the most selfless person I know, Az. I’m glad you two have eachother. But if she needs anything, if you need anything, let me know.”

And she was. Selfless in a way that Azriel couldn’t fathom. Selfless in a way that made his gut churn, a way he wanted to roar at the moon and the stars, and anyone who would listen. Selfless when she should have never had to be. She was bright and radiant and kind. The world looked at her and saw ethereal sunshine, walking starlight, unfathomable beauty both inside and out. But there was darkness and pain there too, so buried down deep that only Azriel could feel it in the middle of the night as whimpers disrupted her sleep.

So many nights Rhys would have to come in and cradle her mind, send her soothing thoughts and visions of anything beautiful that could mask the perils that haunted her dreams.

Azriel hated himself for it, the jealousy. He wished he could soothe her in that way but no matter how much love he sent through their bond, that darkness rooted itself so deeply within her that sometimes it took significant power from Rhys to reach it.

As if Rhys wasn’t already fighting his own trauma and waging against the insurmountable guilt he carried after being under the mountain, plus worrying about Feyre in the Spring Court. And that wasn’t to say Y/N was a burden in any way, though she felt she was. It killed Azriel to see both his mate and his brother fighting so much grief and not being able to do anything about it.

She’d have been better suited to be Rhysand’s mate than Azriel’s own by their intertwined traumas, by their ability to put themselves aside for a better world. Azriel, of course, fit into this court of dreamers but she… despite only being here for such a short period of time, she was the biggest dreamer of them all.

Another rumble from her stomach snapped Azriel out of his thoughts, mentally noting to Rhys, “She could use breakfast.”

“I’ll send some for both of you. You need to take care of yourself too.”

Azriel smelled the salt of her tears before he saw the silver lining her eyes. Propping himself up on an elbow, draping a wing over her, he began to ask softly, “Hey-“. Her head immediately shaking and she choked on the word, “No.”

“Baby, I know what you’re thinking and it’s not a burden. He just wanted to know if you needed anything.”

She took a few deep breaths, willing away those tears. “He doesn’t have to check on me. It’s my f-“

“Stop that. Listen to me, I’m always here to listen to you and I know that you’re dealing with complex emotions and trauma that I cannot even begin to fully fathom but this.. it’s not your fault.”

Her eyes welled up further as Azriel continued,

“I don’t want to lecture you or invalidate what you are feeling. Your emotions are justified but… these thoughts will eat you alive, they’re vicious lies that have been conditioned into you, and I can promise you that nobody blames anything on you. This entire family is so fucking grateful to have you as a part of it. In a world of darkness, where you had every right, every reason to bring that darkness with you, you chose light.”

He choked on his words as those tears flowed down her face. “You chose light when it only brought more darkness upon yourself.”

She cut him off. “She’s not darkness.”

Azriel raised an eyebrow. “She?”

And through her tears, he saw the slightest gleam of radiance in her eyes. “I can just feel it. Feel her.”

Azriel pressed a kiss to Y/N’s belly. “Yes, you are absolutely right. She is not darkness - she’s a beacon of light, the brightest star in the sky, perhaps aside from her mother - but the mental load you are carrying, it is dark and it’s heavy. And yes, you would carry darkness with you regardless of this spark of hope” he rubbed her belly in tender circles for emphasis. “But I know that mind of yours. That you are telling yourself that you’re a burden, that you made the wrong choice, when there was no wrong choice.”

At this point, the tears were streaming down her face, his shadows dutifully whisking them away, but only gratitude and love flowed from her.

A knock came on the door. Azriel’s eyes glazed over as Y/N recognized the telltale signs of what was happening. A line creased in his brow before she placed a gentle hand on his arm. “It’s okay, he can come in.”

“You sure, my love? He understands when you need space.”

She nodded. “I know but I think I need to see him today.” Azriel brushed his thumb in soothing ministrations across her abdomen until she pulled her night gown back down to cover herself.

The door creaked open and Rhys padded over to the bed, guilt and adoration limning his features. “Hey, starshine.” She blushed at the term. She hated her own name after Amarantha had called it so many times under the mountain. Rhys had begun calling her Starshine in secret due to her Day Court origins and the fact that he was convinced she’d been more suited for the Night Court.

Rhys had been drawn to her under the mountain, something about her reminding him of his brother. Rhysand could admit that Azriel was the most beautiful of the three brothers, his features seemingly crafted by the gods themselves. But if Azriel’s features were crafted by the gods, Y/N’s were crafted by the Mother herself. Aside from that, she had a quiet presence, though far less stoic and broody than Azriel’s, it was more of a quiet, gentle grace. A grace that Amarantha had tried so hard to shed her of but was never quite successful.

Amarantha, of course, made it her mission to both seek pleasure from her and torment her. When she never fully broke, Amarantha decided that instead of throwing her to the dark corridors she stuffed most lesser fae in, she’d make an excellent play thing. She looked mostly High Fae after all, yet had enhanced sexual appeal due to her nymph ancestry - perfect high and round breasts, long legs, a firm yet supple ass, and an arousing scent - needless to say, Amarantha delighted to add her to her roster of bed chamber accompaniment.

Y/N and Rhys developed a quiet understanding of each other and the roles they were forced to play in the year that she’d been under the mountain before Feyre arrived. They did not grow close enough for Amarantha to become concerned but enough that she knew her play things got along well enough to bring them both into her chambers at the same time.

Rhys would never forget the first time Amarantha had forced he and her into her chambers at the same time. Y/N tried to be strong, and she was. Another aspect of her that reminded him of his brother.

But she began to crack slightly, and Rhys knew Amarantha would make it so much worse for her if she did. So he did the only thing he knew to do and held her mind. He showed her visions of the Night Skies of the Night Court, the spirits of Starfall, the laughter of a family surrounding a table in a beloved restaurant, anything that could help her through it.

As he held her mind, she’d unwittingly sent visions from throughout her twenty-two years of life prior to being captured and brought under the mountain. She was loved deeply by her family who had little more than love to give. Eventually they had been murdered by Amarantha’s cronies at the age of nineteen - she’d been able to escape and live among the High Fae who sneered and objectified her, but offered enough coin to sleep with her to keep a roof over her head.

Rhys had determined that night that if they ever made it out of there alive, he was taking her to Velaris with him. She’d never live like that again.

He even smiled at the thought of introducing her and Azriel when she was ready to meet his family, already picturing his brother’s rose-dusted cheeks in her presence.

“Thank you” Azriel’s low voice withdrew Rhys from his thoughts, taking the plate from his hands.

A familiar scent wafted off of Rhys to Y/N. Pregnancy had heightened her sense of smell substantially.

As she sniffed the air Rhys gave a soft, sad smile at the eye brow she raised at him before asking, “Where is she?”

He shook his head, darkness rolling in waves off of him. “Tamlin locked her in his fucking manor. She had a breakdown.”

Her face drew tight. “That bastard!” Azriel flinched at the rage flowing down the bond. “She must have been terrified.”

“She certainly terrified the servants in his manor. She shrouded herself in darkness and nobody could get through to her.”

“He doesn’t deserve her.”

Rhys nodded. “He doesn’t.”

“You didn’t answer my question, Rhys. Where is she?”

“At the Town House.”

Her eyes blew wide. “Cauldron boil me, is she staying?”

Azriel smiled as he felt her excitement flow into him. A bit of that Day Court sunshine returning to her.

“I don’t know. She knows she can’t tell anyone if she goes back, but…”

“I felt it through the bond, Y/N. I think she’s here to stay.”

Azriel’s shadows agitated at the pause in verbal conversation, chattering back and forth,

“Secrets”

“Secrets”

He rolled his eyes and dismissed them, already knowing there were some things that remained between just Y/N and Rhys. He’d accepted it the very moment he’d shown up after he received word that Rhys was finally home and the bond snapped as soon as he laid eyes upon the radiant female by his side. He knew it snapped for her too when she walked right up to him, touched the hands he tried to hide behind his back, her eyes speaking everything she couldn’t. “I see your scars. I bear them too.” And pressed a kiss to each hand.

“Do you want me to leave? I assume she’s at the Town House but I’m sure she’ll be visiting here too, yes?”

Azriel bristled. No way in hell was Rhys going to make his mate leave, whether this home was his or not, she had a right to be present wherever she wished.

“Easy brother.”

Azriel shook off the feeling. The mating instinct was still so strong that he had a hard time not jumping in to defend her at the thought of any threat, physical or emotional.

“Y/N” Rhys took her hand.

“Don’t bite my head off for holding her hand, either.”

Azriel huffed before firing back to Rhys’ mind “I can’t wait for you to find your mate someday so you can see what it feels like to be so wound up like this.”

Rhys only gave a small, secret smile in return.

Y/N interjected. “Are you two done gossiping or can I know whether I should pack up or not?”

“This is your home just as much as it is my home. You are my family and I want Feyre to meet all of you. Cassian has already barreled through the door of the Town House along with Mor begging to be fed. Feyre went up to nap and recollect herself.”

“Can we have dinner with her… if she wants to?” She asked softly with a mixture of excitement and nervousness to her voice.

Rhys gave a nod. “I was thinking that same thing. Would you be comfortable?”

She nodded before the reality of the situation caught up with her.

“Y/N.” Rhys leaned in, gently tilting her head up to look at him. “I am not ashamed of you. I will never hide you or the life you are selflessly bringing into this Court of Dreamers.” His eyes lined with silver. “And I will always be so proud of the love that you both share. I knew from the moment I met you that my brother would adore you. And the fact that you two are mates? It’s one of the greatest things to come from that shit hole of a mountain. A reminder of the beauty that can prevail, even after the most dreadful of circumstances. I love all three of you.”

Azriel held his mate closely, ensuring she felt just how loved she truly was.

“She kicked for the first time the other day.”

Rhys raised a brow.

Y/N let out a sigh. “Ugh, you two are so skeptical. I really believe that this baby is a girl.”

Rhys eyed the scarred hand protectively placed over her round bump, so many complicated emotions running through him, with love being the strongest.

“Feyre will likely ask questions tonight regarding all of us, our stories. Nobody has to share anything they do not wish to, but you also may share if you are comfortable doing so. I would really like for Feyre to become a member of the Inner Circle-“

Rhys looked to Y/N rolling his eyes at the smirk and waggling eyebrows she gave him.

“Stop that. My point is just that, I would like for her to know all of you. I know she’ll love you all just as I do. Hell, she’ll probably love all of you before she’s ready to even fully tolerate me.”

Azriel let out a chuckle as his mate quipped “Tell me the story of the time she threw a shoe at you. It’s my favorite!”

“You cruel, lovely little thing.” Rhys laughed. “See you both for dinner.”

As Rhys exited them room, Y/N sighed. “You were awfully quiet.”

Az nudged her. “And that surprises you?”

“Okay, quieter than usual.”

Azriel pulled her in close, peppering kisses across her forehead. “I just don’t want you to do anything you’re not ready for. You are still healing and now you’ll be facing someone else that was under the mountain with you.”

“She saved us all, Az.” She looked up into his hazel eyes with nothing but genuine adoration. “Without her, I never would have met you. And what kind of existence would that be?”

She began picking at the plate Rhys had brought in. Letting out a moan as the flavors burst on her tongue.

Az couldn’t help the involuntary twitch of his wings at the sound.

She laughed. “Don’t get any ideas until I’m finished with my food.”

Azriel raised his palms. “I’d never get between my pregnant mate and her meal. With the way she’s started moving, she’d likely kick me away anyway.”

She took another bite while nonchalantly commenting, “I thought of a name for her.”

“Oh yeah?” Azriel’s brows raised in anticipation of a potential name for their child.

“Azure. The same blue as the skies. I thought…”

Azriel cut her off, marveling at the name. Whispering more to himself than her. “Blue like the Day Court skies, blue like the skies that I love to take you flying in.”

She flushed. “Yes, exactly. And though it’s a different shade of blue, like your siphons.”

A lone tear escaped his eye. “And,” she continued with a coy smile. “We could call her ‘Az’”

Azriel sat still for a moment. And she would have thought he didn’t like it had it not been the rush of pure shock and awe flowing through the bond.

Suddenly he took her face in his hands, barely giving her time to swallow the bite of bacon she’d just taken, and crashed his lips into hers. And after her lips were swollen and puffy from the heat of his lips, he began pressing kisses all over her belly, whispering between them, “I love you, little Az. I love you more than the skies I fly in. More than my own name. More than any dreamer could dream of being loved. I can’t wait to fly you through the open skies, and show you every shade of blue this beautiful world has to offer. Nothing in this world matters more than you and your mother. I couldn’t be more proud to be your father.”

And he meant it. Every single word. The blood running through the baby growing inside of his mate didn’t need to be his, what mattered was the love flowing within the child and he intended to pour every single ounce of love he had into their baby.

It was Y/N though who broke down at those words. She and Azriel had spent every free moment together since meeting. He’d healed her in ways that she never could have dreamed. Finding her mate changed the time after Under the Mountain from the lonesome trauma reckoning hellhole she’d anticipated and into a time of healing. He listened to her, understood her, let her set the pace in every aspect. And he’d shared his trauma with her, all of it.

The child who had been abused by a wicked stepmother and horrid step-brothers, overlooked by his own father had grown up to be loving, caring, and patient in every way. And now, he was going to be the parent of a child that was not his by conception, choosing to love the child just as he would his very own. A vow he’d sworn in their mating vows and sealed with a bargain.

“What is it, love?” Azriel wiped away her tears.

“Stupid hormones. I just love you so much and I need you to know that you are so much more than I ever could have dreamed of. If I had to, I would go through it all again as long as it led me to you.”

Azriel’s eyes began watering again. “Look at us, Y/N. We’re quite a sight. Whatever you say tonight, just don’t let Cassian know that I’ve gotten so soft.”

Her glassy eyes sparkled as she gave a sweet smile. “I have a feeling that softness has already been there, my love, I just had the privilege of coaxing it out of you.”

He smiled. “Truth Teller personified.”

————————-

“We’re heading up now.” Rhys’ voice cut into Y/N’s mind.

“Are you sure about this, Rhys? Most of them do not know what all happened under the mountain. What if it’s too much for Feyre to take in?”

“She’s my mate, I have to hope that she will love and accept us all in time. It may be a lot to meet us and hear our stories but they’re a part of us, a part of loving us. I’m worried about Cassian scaring her off more than anything.”

“Valid concern. See you soon. Despite the circumstances, I’m so happy she’s here.”

“You know,” Rhys chuckled. “I feel the same way about you, Starshine.”

“You flatter me. Now enjoy your flight with the literal girl of your dreams.”

“She’s glaring daggers at me right now. Pray I make it there alive.”

“Where’d you go?” Az nudged.

Leaning into her mate’s side, embracing the warmth of his arms wrapped around her shoulders she replied, “Rhys and Feyre are on the way.”

“Are you ready for this?” He asked.

“I’m sure you can already feel my nerves down the bond but I appreciate you for asking.” She teased.

Azriel kept his pace slow as they wound through the hallways of the House of Wind toward the dining table. “If you’re not ready…”

She took a steadying breath. “No, he needs to get off on a solid foundation with her. And Cassian, Mor, and Amren have eyed us for a while, they realize that something is off. Plus, I mean, look at this thing.” Her delicate hands found her stomach. “They’re going to figure out that the timelines don’t match up soon enough.”

“Our girl IS growing.” Azriel spoke, not missing the opportunity to feel the life growing within his mate.

She teased, “You’ve referred to the babe as “her” a few times now. Coming around to the idea?”

“I know better than to go against your intuition.”

With that, Y/N gave a wicked grin. “Mother knows best.”

As they approached the dining room, Azriel pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I’ll be right by your side.”

She beamed. “And I’ll be by yours too, with whatever you may share tonight…and forever, of course.”

As everyone arrived and gathered at the dining table, Y/N couldn’t help but admire how lovely Feyre and Rhys were together. Though she hated the situation that brought her there, that Tamlin tried to hoard her away in his manor, she couldn’t help but feel joy knowing that she was finally beginning to see the true Rhysand.

The Inner Circle kept up with the typical antics and plenty of laughter filled the space, but the conversation eventually turned more serious as everyone took turns giving Feyre insight into themselves.

Feyre looked to Y/N with curiosity. “You were under the mountain, but Azriel was not?”

Her hands shook as she prepared to share. A warmth covered them as Azriel gave a gentle squeeze, sending waves of that reassurance in abundance. She took a breath.

She began by sharing the background of her family, their deaths, that she’d sold her body to survive afterward, how she’d only been under the mountain for a year before Feyre arrived.

“You didn’t know Azriel before they took you?” Feyre asked. Not harshly, just inquisitively.

Y/N held her head high. Her story was not one to be ashamed of.

“I did not. Rhys was one of the only souls to show me kindness under the mountain. I have nymph ancestry with primarily High Fae features. Amarantha took an interest in me and….”

An unreadable expression covered Rhys’ face. This was his trauma too, but he gave a reassuring nod.

“She began taking me to her chambers. I had no choice. It was warm her bed, or face physical torture until death.”

Feyre flinched along with Rhys. Y/N recognized that they were remembering the human girl Amarantha had tortured to death just before Feyre’s arrival.

“She also, against our hopes, realized that Rhysand and I had an understanding of eachother - serve her or die. Being the lust-driven wretch that she was, she began taking us both to her chambers. There was no room for weakness in there. She wanted us just weak enough to submit to her, but we had to remain strong in every other aspect. The first time she had Rhys and I, together,” she cleared her throat, giving pause before continuing, “Rhys saved me. I began to crack, and he held my mind. I will let Rhys speak on his own trauma and the mental load he carried, but he didn’t hesitate to help me get through it. It was not the last time he had to help me through it.”

The table was completely silent. Heart-wrenching expressions filled each face at the table. Palpable rage could be felt radiating off of Amren, though her face remained straight.

Her voice began cracking. Azriel pulled her close into him. “When you saved us,” She looked to Feyre. “I don’t mean to fawn or gawk over you, but Feyre, you did save us.” Feyre gave an empathetic look, nodding to Y/N to continue. “Rhys brought me back to Velaris because he couldn’t bear for me to return to the life I was living, because this Court of Dreams is made up of individuals who have lived through terrible traumas and, despite every reason to lead bitter lives- have chosen to dream of a better world. To fight for a better world. And he knew a certain Shadowsinger and I would get on quite well. In fact, he’s been a smug bastard ever since over just how well things went between us.”

“When I met him.” She stared lovingly to Azriel who swallowed a lump in his throat. “The bond snapped between us immediately. The same day I was brought here, I met my mate.”

Instinctively she placed her hands on the swell of her abdomen. “Rhys gave Azriel leave to spend time with me, for him to help me through the aftermath of what I’d been through…”

“But two weeks after arriving back, my scent began to shift.” Mor’s brows furrowed in contemplation.

“I became very sick shortly after that. Rhys called in a healer, Madja, who confirmed that I was two and a half months pregnant.”

Cassian audibly gasped and Mor murmured “Oh my gods.”

Azriel kept his composure for the sake of his mate, but this was killing him. His brother and his mate being forced by that fucking witch. “Azriel is not the biological father of this baby. The child was conceived under the forced coupling of Rhysand and I by Amarantha.”

Feyre’s face was a mix of sadness, and rage, and sympathy.

“There were options to terminate the pregnancy. However, due to my Nymph ancestry, such options can have negative, potentially deadly effects. Aside from that, though I never planned to have a child - I couldn’t bear the thought of losing another family member. Rhys, after losing his family, felt the same, which he only expressed after I shared my feelings with him. He was completely supportive of any decision I made.” Feyre looked to Rhys and then back to Y/N, no negative judgement written on those lovely features.

Y/N looked to Azriel with a loving grin “And Azriel- he took me to a priestess that night. We both wanted to accept the bond from the moment we met, the connection was unbelievably strong, I never believed in the power of the bond until I found him. And now because he’s ever the romantic, though I see him already blushing at the mention of it, he wanted to make a vow before the Mother - a vow to love me no matter what choice I made, a vow to love the life within me as his very own child, to love and cherish us both until his last breath.”

She pulled the sleeve off of her shoulder, revealing the intricate tattoo solidifying his vow.

“And Rhys,” She gave a soft smile. “He made a bargain to love and care for this child and to recognize Azriel as its father. We will not hide the parentage from our child. And Rhys, I know, already loves them dearly, but mine and Azriel’s decisions for our baby come first and will be respected as any biological parents would.”

She’d left out the part where Azriel had gone under the mountain to investigate later on and found that Amarantha had begun supplying a fertility tonic instead of birth control to Y/N after the Calanmai that Rhys had gone to the Spring Court and seen Feyre. Though she didn’t know who Rhys saw, she likely suspected he’d developed interest in someone else and become jealous, hoping an accidental pregnancy would either create a rift in any potential relationship or, even worse, that the baby could be used as leverage against him.

The table remained silent until Rhys chimed in. “So my brother is my child’s father. I’m sure stranger things have happened.”

Despite that sadness the Inner Circle felt, Rhysand’s comment elicited smiles. Azriel gave his brother a nod of thanks for breaking the tension while affectionately caressing his mate.

Mor eased the tension further by chiming in “Y/N! You are further along than we realized which means….. we get to go shopping for our newest family member sooner!!!”

Feyre decided soon after that she would like to work with the Court of Dreams.

————————-

Epilogue

Because his mate was always right, Azriel was indeed the father of a beautiful little girl, clever and stubborn like her mother, and the light of his life. Her mother the sun, and she the moon.

He and Rhys had just returned from taking “Baby Azzie” who was now a toddler to get pastries along the Sidra. Azriel returned with his half-asleep daughter in his arms, who perked up upon seeing her baby brother cooing in his bassinet. “Nyxie!!” She yelled, hurrying over to the winged babe. Rhys, however, arrived with numerous shopping bags in his own arms.

Feyre, who had been lounging with her head on Y/N’s shoulder gave the two a big smile. Y/N raised an eyebrow. “All of that better be for Nyx.”

Azriel and Rhys shared a laugh before Rhys spoke. “Well, half of it is, but only because someone batted her little lashes at us repeating ‘Brother, present. Brother, present’ until we took her into what is conveniently her favorite toy store.” Az cut in, “And because my brother is getting soft in his old age” before Rhys could remind Azriel that he was, in fact, the older of the two, Az continued, “Rhys had to buy something for her for every item she picked out for Nyx.”

Y/N groaned. “Cassian literally just bought her five new toys and six new outfits on their last outing.”

The raven-haired toddler with her mother’s nose and radiant skin, Rhys’ smile, and by some gift of the Mother - had Azriel’s golden-flecked hazel eyes, toddled up to Feyre, giving her a big hug. She then turned to her mother, leaning in to whisper something, that came out as quietly as a yell. “I got something for sissy too. Daddy has it in the pocket realm.”

Y/N’s face flushed as Rhys and Feyre gaped. “So much for keeping that a secret for a little longer.”

Feyre squealed leaning in and throwing her arms around Y/N. “I thought that maybe I was getting allergies, your scent hasn’t been as strong but you were glamouring it!”

Rhys pulled Azriel into a long hug, then walked over to Y/N with a wide smile, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

Azriel placed a hand on his chest as he took in the sight of his blended family. It wasn’t what he’d ever expected but, to him, it was everything.

#feyre #rhysand #azriel x pregnant mate #Azriel x reader #azriel x y/n #azriel one shot #angst #sarah j maas #READ THE WARNINGS PLEASE #feysand #under the mountain #amarantha #acotar angst #acotar x reader #acotar #a court of thorns and roses

[bby-deerling]

genie in a bottle (law x reader nsfw)

law uses your clit as a fidget toy :^)

18+, nsfw, mdni, wc: 1.8k masterlist || commissions

cw: fem!reader, semi-public stuff, mild body horror (maybe ? law has your clit in his pocket), edging, oral (reader receiving), fingering, fingers in mouth, overstimulation, dirty talk, teasing, established relationship

tagging: @willowbelle @eelnoise @risenwrites @atanukileaf @cloudzoro @kaizokuniichan @sanjisprincesswifey @mirillua

Trafalgar Law is a lot of things—a skilled doctor, a gifted swordsman, and a man with innate leadership skills coursing through his veins.  Sharp as a whip and possessing a unique charm, he is captivating enough to swallow someone whole if they aren’t careful.

He’s also an amazing multi-tasker.

As he nonchalantly moves through the agenda items during the bi-weekly crew meeting, Law’s right hand stays buried in the pocket of his jacket.  The detail goes unnoticed by most of the crew; Law is often restless and prone to fidgeting, and usually has something in his pocket to mess with.  If it was the usual stress ball, rock, or other small item that he was rolling his finger across rhythmically, you wouldn’t have paid it much mind, but your captain is playing with something different today.

It was beyond insane of you to let him temporarily take the most sensitive piece of you to mess around with in his pocket for a little while, but the way his eyes darkened coupled with the devious smirk he gave you when suggesting the idea had turned you into putty in his hands.

And now you were so limp and malleable, wholly at his mercy as he tries to get you to crack the stone-cold expression on your face while he drones on about kitchen cleaning duties for next week.  It wasn’t like you weren’t turned on—you were grateful the lining of your boiler suit masked the way your arousal had already soaked your panties and was dripping down your inner thighs—but you were determined to keep yourself together until the meeting is over and you can jump his bones behind closed doors.

A pair of eyes locked onto you turns you hyper-aware of everyone in the room, making your face flush even warmer.  To your right, Ikkaku shoots you a look of concern and leans over.  “You alright?  You look like you’re coming down with something.” she whispers in your ear.  Biting your cheek, your mind scrambles to put something together.  Not trusting your ability to get any words out without letting a squeak or a moan slip from your tongue, you simply nod in response, though it might have been just easier to lie—a small fever would have been the perfect excuse for your bright red cheeks and restless shivers and twitches—but the way Law’s thumb traces patterns into your needy bud turns your brain into a pile of mush.

Turning your focus towards the front of the room, your eyes glaze over as you watch Law, and his words turn into babble as all you can fixate on is the deep tone of his voice sending echoes and vibrations up through the floor.  A painful eternity passes by before Law dismisses the crew; most of your crewmates hop up to go to their posts, but a few hang back to ask their captain some questions.  You stay firmly fixed in your seat, face still red but expression blank as you wait for him to finish up, hoping he’ll take your diligent patience into account and grant you some form of mercy.

Finally, after a conversation with Shachi that seemingly lasts eons, Law sits down beside you, taking Ikkaku’s place and places his free hand on your shoulder.  “Are you feeling okay?  I noticed you look a bit off.” he asks innocently, as if he wasn’t still playing with you—as if he hadn’t purposely worn his sweatpants that were a size too big today instead of his skinny jeans in an attempt to mask the way his cock throbs in his boxers as he toys with you.

“I think I’m coming down with something.” you mumble softly, all of your focus going towards keeping an even and unassuming tone—a few of your crewmates were still in the room, after all—though Law makes it hard as he starts tracing the alphabet into your clit with his thumb, seemingly just to mess with you and keep you right on the edge of falling apart.

His face doesn’t betray much as he tries to maintain professionalism and responds with, “Come with me, then.  I’ll check you out.” but something in the way he says it shatters the façade—maybe it’s the smugness, or the smirk creeping across his face, but it makes you twitch with need as you follow him, hot on his heels and eager for release. However, as you seemingly take a loop around the entire Polar Tang and holding back your twitches and noises becomes increasingly more difficult, you realize that Law is going to draw this out as long as he possibly can; taking matters into your own hands once the two of you are in a secluded part of the submarine, you start making demands.

“Give it back.” you hiss, standing up on your tiptoes to ensure your demand was heard by his ears alone.

Law scoffs and continues walking down the cramped hallway, not even sparing you a glance; however, a broad grin spreads across his face at your frustration, making you even more heated and indignant. “No way.  This is too much fun.” he replies with a smirk, continuing to rub circles into your clit that make your spine shiver.

“Then at least let me cum—” you snap back, dripping and desperate for release to the point of being irritable.  Law’s footsteps halt as he glances in both directions to ensure the two of you are alone before placing a hand near your head along the wall and leaning in close.

“Right here?  In the middle of the hallway?  That’s what you want?” he teases, pressing his thumb harder against your bud; the wave of pleasure rolling through your body makes you weak in the knees and plants your feet firmly to the ground as you still stubbornly stifle the moans clawing their way up your throat.  Taking a sharp inhale, you close your eyes and compose yourself before shaking your head.  “That’s what I thought.” Law murmurs, his lips so close that they ghost along the sensitive skin of yours.

“Take me to your room, please—�� you whisper, finally letting your hard, determined exterior fall to pieces, allowing the overwhelming need that you’re drowning in to pour out through your voice.

Clicking his tongue, Law seemingly isn’t satisfied as the corner of his lips quirk upward. “Try again.” he replies smugly, letting his free hand trail down your side and rest on your hip.

“Take me to your room, please, Captain.” you say, whimpering softly at his touch as you correct yourself, meeting his playful gaze with pleading eyes blown out with lust.

“Good girl.” he purrs, bathing the two of you in a bright blue light as he swaps you for two flecks of dust on his sheets.  Another mumble and flick of his wrist puts everything back where it’s supposed to be, but somehow, he hasn’t had his fill of teasing you yet.  Slipping off your boiler suit and laying you down on your side, his limbs and tongue entangle with yours as he greedily pulls you as close to him as possible.

“Fuck, you’re soaked.” he murmurs against your lips as his inked hand drifts between your legs, pushing your panties aside and running them along your slit.  Dipping them inside, he curls them against your sweet spot until he has you mewling for him, only to pull them out and tap your bottom lip with his slick-covered fingers.

“Taste it for me.” he orders, and you obediently open your mouth to suck on his digits, swirling your tongue around them and moaning softly as you taste yourself.  “Suck them clean for me.” he mumbles, groaning slightly as you run your tongue along his fingers one last time before he pops them out of your mouth, wiping the saliva off onto the outside of your thigh.

Smirking with satisfaction, he nudges you onto your back and slips down your torso, letting out a pleased sigh when you instinctively spread your legs for him.  Holding them apart with his tattooed hands, he drags his tongue along the side of your thighs, coating it in your essence as he licks upward towards your core.  Swirling his tongue along your entrance, he smirks as you twitch with need against him.  “You want me to let you cum?” he asks teasingly, letting one of his hands trail upward to play with your sensitive clit.

“Please, Law, I need it so bad…” you whimper, letting out a gasp as he tongue slips inside of you, thrusting in and out and flicking along your walls.  The fullness turns your vision red hot as the coil in your core nearly snaps; your hips snap towards his thumb to get just a little more friction on your bud, until all of a sudden, he pulls away.

“Law!” you exclaim in frustration as you let out a deep sigh and dig your nails into the palm of your hand.  He only smirks and lets out an exhale of amusement in response as he sheds his boxers and sits beside you, grabbing you by the waist and nudging you to get up and straddle him.  Complying, you sink down onto his cock, and both of you throw your heads back as the sensation sends tingles down your spines; however, any control you have in this position is short-lived as his hands grip the plush skin of your hips possessively, fucking into you as he grinds you against him.

“I’m gonna make you cum so hard you won’t be able to see straight.” he mumbles in your ear as he feels you start to twitch intermittently around him; you try to let him know that you’re close, but your mind is so overheated that the words all spill out as babbles and whimpers.  There was nothing left in your mind except the white-hot pleasure building in your core, and a few more drags against him is all it takes to let it completely flood through you, blinding your senses and making your back arch so hard a few vertebrae crack back into place.

“That’s it, cum for me.” he mumbles as he continues to rub your sensitive bud against him, drawing out your wave of pleasure as much as he can.  Twitching in his grasp, and letting out soft moans, you slowly catch your breath and fall limp against his chest, burying your face into his neck and letting out a few tiny whimpers.  “Such a good girl for me.” he praises as he rubs your back and wraps his arms around you, planting soft kisses along your collarbone.

But, through it all, the slow pace of his thrusts inside of you never falters, and he can’t help but pick up the pace as you emerge from the haze clouding your mind and spring to life once more, grazing your teeth along his neck as you leave kisses along the sensitive column of skin.

“I’m not done with you yet—not even close.” he whispers in your ear, a needy rasp coating his words with lust.  Trafalgar Law is many things—but above all, he’s beyond thorough, in everything that he does.

Especially you.

#one piece x reader #trafalgar law x reader #law x reader #trafalgar law x you #law x you #law x y/n #trafalgar law x y/n #trafalgar law fanfiction #law fanfic #one piece fanfiction #one piece smut #trafalgar law smut

[box-milk]

te quiero, mamá

Pairings ~ Alexia Putellas x teen rios! Reader

Genre~ fluff

Warnings ~ Google translated Spanish. The game mentioned is completely made up and veryyy short.

The final whistle concluded the game that sent most of barça's team to their knees in disappointment, and those who hadn't heads bowed with eyes filled with salty tears as the opposition had bested them today.

Alexia, being one with head, bowed stood disappointment weighing heavily on her shoulders. The match had been gruelling, and she could help to start to analyse where strategies could have gone wrong. Taking a breath, she willed herself to mask her disappointment in favour of giving her sullen teammates some form of comfort.

When Alexia walked through the tunnel, she comes face to face with her girlfriend, who offers her a sympathetic smile before pulling her into a hug. The blonde buried her face into the shorter woman's neck before her body was recked with sobs.

Olga guided their conjoined bodies to a corner where they couldn't be seen and sat both of the down as she allowed her girl to cry while running her fingers through the blonde strands that she let lose from the ponytail.

"mami donde estas?." The brunette watched as her daughter rounded the corner in prue confused as you'd left for the bathroom while she came down to alexia.

"por aqui bebe." Olga could feel alexia tense against her when she gave you their precise location. Alexia and you didn't nesscerliy have a bad relationship it's just that there wasn't a relationship at all as you stayed out of her way, and in turn she stayed out of yours.

You stared at the position your mami was in, and you felt sympathy for the older woman in her arms. You didn't hate infact you liked her a lot, but you were terrified of getting close in case she would leave you like your father did.

Your mother noticed you rubbing your fingers together roughly, a nervous habit she tried breaking you out of but never succeeded. Your eyes desperately trying to convey what you wanted to do but had zero courage to.

Olga smiled lightly before trying to coax Alexia out of her neck, and when she failed after a few tries, you took a deep breath before crouching and placing your hand on her shoulders.

"Mamá?" You said, shaking her lightly. Olga gasped, and Alexia's shaking boby froze.

"Lo siento". You were about to move away when a large hand gently wrapped around your wrist.

"No stay Princesa, por favor." Alexia pleaded before wrapping her body around yours and squeezing you lightly, causing you to melt into her while Alexia sighed in relief.

"I'm sorry it didn't go the way you planned, but you played beautifully till the very end. I'm proud of you mamá. Te quiero" You words were enough to push Alexia over the edge again, and soon your shoulder is soaked with tears.

What you didn't know was that the woman wasn't crying about the game anymore, but at the fact that you're so secure with her that you see her as a mother. She held you a bit longer before olga suggested that you all get home and have something to eat.

"Ohu can we have pizza? No offense mamá but your protein bowles taste like gravel". You smile innocent and even adding puppy dog eyes for extra flair.

Alexia rolled her eyes with a playful smile while olga chuckled lightly but agreed to your meal of choice, causing you to run off to the car.

Olga turned her attention to her girlfriend. Who looked at your descending figure with a soft smile.

"Who would have known big bad la reina would turn into absolutely mush at being called mamá for the first time?" the younger girl teases.

"callar"

°•°•°••°•°•°•°

#woso community #woso x reader #woso imagine #woso fanfics #woso #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas imagine #alexia putellas #alexia x reader

[nhlclover]

tear in my heart | jack hughes

word count: 2.50k

summary: in need of a date to your cousins wedding your mom suggests you take jack. i mean what could possibly go wrong if you ask your childhood crush to be your date?

warnings: drinking, kissing, maybe one swear word? idk

notes: longest fic i've ever written omg

You sat in your cozy apartment, the soft glow of your phone illuminating the darkened room. It was your mother calling again, the persistent ringtone piercing through the quiet evening. You debated whether to pick up, knowing exactly what the conversation would turn into. Your cousin's wedding was coming up, and your mother's probes about your date—or lack thereof—were becoming increasingly insistent.

Knowing that if you didn’t answer the phone you would be on the receiving end of a passive-aggressive tirade from your mother, you answered.

“Hey, mom.” You said hesitantly.

“Y/n!” She squealed. “I can’t believe my daughter finally answered.”

You rolled your eyes at her attempt at a sly jab, although you didn’t let your tone convey your annoyance. “Sorry, I’ve been busy with work and everything.”

“Oh, of course, I understand.” Your mother said. “Well, I just wanted to chat about your cousin's wedding.”

You audibly groaned. She didn’t even say anything about a date yet, but you knew it was coming. “Mum, we’ve been over this. I’m not bringing a date to Katie’s wedding.”

“Why not, y/n?” She asked.

“I’m not seeing anyone and it would be weird to bring a stranger to her wedding.” You answered. “Plus, Katie said she wanted it to be small. Just people she knew. So I shouldn’t bring a random dude to her wedding.”

There was a beat of silence where you thought you had finally succeeded in getting her to stop nagging about the possibility of a date before she spoke again.

“Why don’t you ask Jack?” She suggested. “He’s such a sweet boy and Katie knows him! It’s perfect!”

“Mum!” You groaned, bringing a hand over your eyes.

“Why not?” She argued.

You hesitated, attempting to scrounge up an excuse. “Mum, I don’t even think he’s in town.”

“He is! I ran into Ellen and Jim a week ago. He and his brothers are in Michigan the whole summer.” She said.

Of course. You hesitated once again. You didn’t necessarily want to bring Jack to the wedding. It's nothing against Jack, but the thought of finding yourself in a romantic situation, or an event celebrating love like a wedding, made your palms sweat.

The pair of you became friends in childhood, attached at the hip through preschool, middle school and high school. Somewhere throughout your friendship, something shifted. His laughter echoed differently and his smile warmed you differently. It became harder and harder for you to deny the fluttering feeling that erupted in your stomach whenever your eyes met.

Your friendship evolved, but for you, it morphed into something more. You yearned for his presence and attention in a way that went well beyond the boundaries of a friendship. However, you kept your feelings buried deep down. You deemed it wasn’t worth the risk of losing a cherished friendship for the possibility of something more.

So, you continued to mask your true feelings behind a facade of platonic feelings, convinced it was enough to bask in his friendship.

“Fine.” You say reluctantly, knowing that if you didn’t ask him, your mom would end up asking him on your behalf. Your mother cheers with joy, then proceeds to fill you in on hometown gossip. The call ends an hour later, closing with her reminding you to call Jack.

──

Jack's contact sat open on your screen, your thumb hovering over the call button. The prospect of being in a romantic situation, especially at an event celebrating love like a wedding, sent a shiver down your spine and caused your palms to break out in a nervous sweat. However, you had to do it. Because if you didn’t, then your mother would be meddling in your love life, which was less than appealing.

You clicked the button, bringing your phone to your ear. The incessant ringing was like a lifeline, offering you a brief pause from the pressure of the moment, until finally, his familiar voice pierced through the silence, filling your ears with warmth and familiarity.

“Hey wassup y/n?” He asked. For a moment you’re taken aback by a rush of emotions.

“H-hey!” You said, forcing your voice to sound cheery, despite your nerves. “I have a question for you.”

“What’s up?” He says

“I was wondering if you wanted to be my date for a wedding?” You ask.

There was a beat of silence and your heartbeat picked up its pace. You decided to speak before Jack could give you an answer.

“It’s for my cousin Katie’s wedding and my mom has been on my ass about bringing a date, and I didn’t want to bring a random guy cause Katie’s been adamant about it being a small wedding of just people she knows and I-”

“Y/n?” Jack interrupted, his tone gentle but firm.

“Yeah?” You say softly.

“I’d love to be your date.” He says. Jack’s words washed over you like a wave of relief, sending a rush of warmth flooding through your veins.

“You would?” You say, slightly surprised.

“Yeah, of course. When’s the wedding?” He asked.

“Uhm, it’s August 3rd.” You tell him.

There’s another beat of silence as Jack checks his schedule. “You are in luck because I’m free.” Jack says. You let Jack know a few more details before hanging up. As the call ended, your stomach still fluttered with nerves, a strange mixture of excitement and anticipation swirling within you. Now, you were just counting down the days until the wedding.

──

You paced back and forth in the small room, checking the time every few seconds, waiting for the clock to hit 3:45. That was when you and Jack were supposed to head down to the ceremony venue. You had been ready for at least eight minutes now, nervously pacing as you awaited the knock.

With a knock on your hotel door, you grab your clutch, take a deep breath, and open the door. Jack is standing on the other side, wearing his dress clothes. He opens his mouth to speak but pauses as his eyes scan your figure and the gown you were wearing that accentuated your features. His eyes widened and, for a moment, he seemed at a loss for words.

“You… look amazing.” He stammers, cheeks flushing lightly.

You had to suppress the wide grin that was tugging on your lips. “Thanks.” You replied, a blush creeping onto your cheeks. “Shall we go?”

Jack sticks out his arm, hooking yours into his, and heading down to the lobby to get in your awaiting Uber. As you enter the venue, you admire the flowers and other decor your cousin had chosen to decorate the chapel.

“Y/n!” You hear your mother shriek. You turn to the doors, seeing your mother walking hand in hand with your father.

“Hi, mama.” You say. Only when you separate do you realize that you and Jack have been arm-in-arm with one another since you left the hotel.

They greet Jack, your mom shooting you a not-so-subtle wink as he shakes hands with your dad. You roll your eyes, trying to usher Jack away from your parents and to your seats. The ceremony passes in a blur of smiles and whispered conversations. You and Jack stole glances at each other whenever you thought the other wasn't looking, your hearts racing with unspoken feelings.

At the reception, you find yourselves on the dance floor nearly the whole time. You two are by no means the best of dancers, in fact far from it. You dance opposite each other, tossing out your best moves, laughing at the other's best attempt at staying on rhythm. You knew you were embarrassing yourselves, but your spirits were high, fueled by the several flutes of champagne you’d both consumed.

You’re The One That I Want played, Jack and you dancing. Jack spins you out before pulling you back. You laugh as you trip over your own feet, stumbling into his arms. The pair of you laugh in sync as you stumble off the dancefloor.

“Man, we are bad dancers.” Jack laughs.

“I think I stepped on your feet multiple times.” You say, trying to catch your breath.

The song morphs into ‘Crazy Love’ by Van Morrisson, with couples flocking to the dance floor. You were going to take the opportunity of a slow song playing to get another drink and rest your feet after dancing the whole evening thus far. Just as you move to step away, there’s a gentle hand on her arm.

“Do you… would you like to dance?” Jack asks softly. His eyes search your face for any signs of hesitation.

Surprise washed over you, mingled with a hint of relief. You hadn’t expected him to ask you to dance to a slow song. You came to this wedding as friends after all. But, there was a part of you that was silently hoping throughout the whole reception that Jack would ask you to dance.

“Of course.” You reply, smiling gently.

Jack extended a hand, drawing you to the dancefloor. As the two of you stepped onto the dancefloor, it was as if the rest of the world floated away, leaving the two of you in an isolated moment. The unfamiliar feeling of Jack’s hand on your waist sends tingles down your spine. As you swayed to the music together, the distance between the two of you disappeared till there was barely an inch separating your bodies.

Looking up at his face, a small smile tugs on his lips. His eyes flicker across your face, landing on your lips.

The voice of Van Morrisson ends and ‘Sweet Caroline’ by Neil Diamond begins to play, ripping the pair of you from your moment of bliss. Your arms falter from one another.

Suddenly, your mom is by Jack’s side, saying that people want to meet your date. Jack is whisked away and put into conversation with your aunt. He shoots you a brief glance, eyes portraying a bit of nervousness. You can only chuckle at him and leave him to deal with the combination that is your mom and aunt.

“Hey there y/n/n.” Says Katie, sidling up to you.

“Katie!” You beamed, arms wrapping around your cousin. “You look so beautiful, I’m so happy for you two.”

She thanks you, flashing a bright smile. “So… Tell me about the boy that your mom seems to think is about to become her son-in-law.”

“Oh my god.” You roll your eyes. “That’s Jack, he’s just a friend.”

You explain the situation to her, receiving a skeptical eye when you finish explaining. “That is not what it looks like. For both of you.”

You push down a smile, looking towards Jack who is engrossed in conversation with your mom. And in that moment, as you watched him laughing and joking with your family, you couldn't deny the truth that lay beneath the surface. Your feelings for Jack ran deep. With every passing moment that you spent with Jack, they got stronger and stronger.

As the night wore on, you kept dancing, mingling with your family. Your laughter and smiles maintained the facade that there was nothing more to your feelings.

Finally, you and Jack hit your limits, feeling on the verge of passing out from exhaustion. You bid goodnights to the remaining guests, deciding to do the short walk to the hotel. Still donning your heels and under the influence of several glasses of champagne, you found yourself tripping over the uneven concrete.

Jack slips his hand into yours, stabilizing you. “I don’t need you bashing your face on the concrete.”

As you walked, hand in hand, conversation flowed easily between the two of you. You made your way into the hotel and up to your floor. Standing in between your respective doors, you find yourself reluctant to let go, your fingers still intertwined with his.

“Thank you again for coming, it meant a lot.” You say, “And thank you for dealing with my mom, I’m sorry for whatever she and my aunt said to you.”

Jack chuckles, shaking his head. “I had fun, I’m glad you invited me.” He says.

You wrap your arms around his torso, giving a quick squeeze. As you separate, Jack's fingers linger on your waist briefly, giving you hope that maybe this wasn’t goodnight. Despite that, he reaches into his pants pocket, pulls out his key card and heads into his room.

“Night.” You say over your shoulder, stepping into your room and shutting the door behind you.

You huffed, tossing your clutch onto the bed. Now alone in your room, you found yourself unable to shake the memory of your shared dance. The feeling of Jack’s hand on your waist still tingling on your skin. Meanwhile, across the hall, Jack couldn't shake the image of you from his thoughts, your laughter echoing in his ears and her presence filling the empty space around him.

Unable to resist the pull any longer, you found yourself drawn to the door, your heart pounding in your chest as you crossed the hallway to Jack's room. Before you could second-guess yourself, you raised your hand and knocked softly on the door, your pulse racing with anticipation.

Jack opens the door, brows furrowing at the sight of you. He had abandoned his tie, dress shirt fully unbuttoned. You glanced at his torso briefly, but Jack caught the glimpse. Your words get caught in your throat and you blurt out the only words that were coming to mind.

“I’m stuck.” You say.

Jack cocks his head to the side, leaning against the door frame.

“M-my dress.” You clarify. “I can’t reach the zipper, can you help?”

Jack clears his throat. “Oh, uh, yeah.”

You turn around, sweeping your hair over your shoulder so that Jack can access the zipper. You feel him slowly tug on the zipper, the fabric separating and exposing your bare back inch by inch. The fabric parts, teasingly revealing the soft contours of your skin. The opening stops just before your hips, leaving Jack on edge.

“You’re good.” Jack breathes. You turn around, the distance between you and Jack now only mere inches, Jack’s breath getting caught in his throat as your eyes meet.

Without a word, Jack’s hand is on your cheek, meeting your lips. His kiss is delicate at first, apprehensive as he is unsure how you feel. Your heart thundered in your chest, melting into Jack's embrace. His hands go to your waist as yours go to his hair, your fingers tangling in his soft waves. Despite being in an unfamiliar situation, you find his lips comforting and surrender yourself to the moment.

Jack reaches for the straps on your shoulders, sliding them off and letting the top of your dress fall down your chest. His hands slide onto your bare torso, lifting you slightly, and allowing you to hook your legs around his waist. He walks you briefly to the door, shutting it and cutting the rest of the world out.

#jack hughes #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes imagine #nhl #nhl imagine #hockey #hockey imagine #nhl fic #new jersey devils

[gh0stsp1d3r]

hi can u make a X reader oneshot about Ethan Landry where the reader knows about him being ghostface and still be willing to fuck without him knowing that she knows? and have her be as obsessed with Ethan as he is with her :))

𝒲𝓇ℴ𝓃𝑔

18+, mdni alot of making out, p in v, fem!reader, oral (fem!receiving), you take Ethan’s virginity, mention of murder

Your eyes widened as you picked up the mask with shaky hands. You realized the knife shining underneath the rest of the clothes as well. Fuck. Shit. Okay. Just put it back before he comes back, you thought.

With a sense of urgency, you rummaged through his drawer, your fingers brushing past his clothes and you went to the bottom of the drawer, burying it underneath all the clothes and closing the drawer.

He had told you to get something for him, not snoop around. You wiped your sweaty palms on your pants, trying to ignore how your friend was fucking ghostface.

Once you found what he actually asked for you to get, you took a deep breath before stepping into the living room.

You silently handed it to him. He noticed your odd behavior and quirked an eyebrow at you.

Maybe it was a Halloween mask or something. But that wouldn’t explain the knife. The thoughts ran in your mind, you would have to find out more later.

You sat back down on the couch with the group, but you couldn't focus on the movie. All you could focus on was Ethan.

You have had a crush on Ethan for a long time now, with feelings bordering on obsession.

You glanced at him, hoping he wouldn't notice your staring. He did however, turning his head to you. Your head snapped back to the TV quickly.

Fuck, fuck. What if he knew that you knew something? What if you were his next target? Although you wouldn’t mind that so much.

You avoided him for a few days, and the worst part? You missed him. God, you missed him. It felt wrong, it was wrong. You both usually talked every day, so he knew something was up.

—

“Y/n?” The familiar voice of Ethan said from behind you.

You stood, tensing up before turning around at his voice. This party was the last place you wanted to see him.

“Ethan.” You said, giving him a small smile. He was wearing a robot cardboard costume, it was dorky but cute. He also had a jacket tied around his waist. He took off the headpiece of his costume and held it by his side.

“Are you okay? I called you… like 5 times.” He asked you.

“Uh, yeah. Sorry, I’ve been busy. But, how’s uh, Econ? And your other classes?”

“It’s going good. Professors really getting on my nerves though.” He laughed.

You smiled at him, you missed his laugh, his smile, his entire face. It was wrong.

You both stayed silent for a while, awkwardly standing and looking at each other.

You began to talk again, then suddenly, some drunk guy ran into you, spilling alcohol all on your clothes.

You gasped, he mumbled a small apology and slipped past. You flicked him off and sighed heavily, looking at your shirt. Of course it happened while you dressed up as an Angel.

“Shit.” Ethan said, his eyes widened and his eyes went over your body.

“Asshole.” You mumbled, making your way upstairs. Ethan followed behind you upstairs and into the bathroom.

He opened up a cabinet, handing you a rag.

“Thanks.” You mumbled, trying your best to wipe it.

“Uh.. here.” He began to untie the jacket around his waist.

“It’s fine, Eth-“ but he ignored it, putting the jacket on your shoulders and zipping it up, biting his bottom lip on the process.

You smiled at him, his hands stopped and stayed for a moment. You stared at him, and he stared at you back. Suddenly, he leaned in, cupping your face as he kissed you.

Your hands went to his shoulders, kissing him back. The electricity coursing through your veins seemed to intensify as the softness of his lips met yours.

His touch sent shivers down your spine, and your heart raced with anticipation. As your lips brushed against his, you savored the taste of him, it felt like your dreams coming true.

You backed up against the counter, hopping on it and never leaving his lips once. The kiss turned from gentle and slow to a sloppy make out.

“Room?” You asked breathlessly against your lips.

“I’m a… a virgin...” He mumbled quietly and looked down at the ground, slightly ashamed.

“I know.” You whispered back. He smiled at you.

You both went out into the hallway, quickly opening an empty room.

He shut and locked the door behind him, his eyes landed on you and his lips were back on you again.

Softly he pushed you down on the bed, you moaned into his mouth when he said his tongue in your mouth.

You took notice of the tent in his pants, you moved away from the kiss to unbutton his pants. He helped and pulled them down, throwing them somewhere in the room. Then he looked at the shirt, his jacket. You took off your shirt, bra, and his jacket.

But then he stopped you when you began to take off your pants.

“Can you… wear my jacket?” He asked shyly.

You smiled at him. Cute. You put his jacket back on, and then began to take off your pants. He threw his shirt off and you both were only left in underwear.

He gave you a peck on your lips, and his lips trailed down your body. He kissed your neck, then biting and sucking on the flesh. He took time to appreciate and savor you, the person who he’s been obsessed with the moment he laid his eyes on you.

He then made his way down to your pussy, pulling off your underwear and looking up at you for a second. He was on his knees and your legs were on the edge of the bed.

He moved his mouth to your cunt, kitten licking it at first to test the waters. A mewl came from your mouth, and for some one who’s a virgin, he ate pussy good. His tongue was focused on your clit, licking it repeatedly as your hands were buried in his hair, pulling and tugging at the brown locks.

He ate like a starved man given food. You cried out his name, and you were thankful for the booming music downstairs.

You were close, and he didn’t care. His tongue worked faster on your clit, you moaned out his name once more and came on his face. He finally left your pussy then, looking at you and licking your juices off his tongue with a smirk.

You smiled at him, and he moved up to kiss you again, cupping your face. You could taste yourself on him.

He removed his angry cock out his boxers finally, letting out a groan as he stroked it in front of you for a moment. He wasn’t small, by any means. He was bigger than you expected if anything. You were shocked at the size.

He put it to your entrance, looking at your face as he slowly slide into your warmness. You both let out moans, he stayed still inside you for a moment to let you adjust and then started to move.

He felt like he could bust right then and there. But he wanted this to be a better experience, so he tried his best to hold his orgasm back for a while.

You moaned as he slid out and back into you, his first few thrusts were sloppy but he was a quick learner. He got the hang of if.

Fuck, it was wrong but you loved it. You loved how his curls bounced on his face, his moans and groans slipping out his mouth, his eyebrows furrowed, and how his hips met yours.

“E-eth!” You cried out, he loved the way you called out his name. He loved how you laid underneath him, melting under him. In his mind you, had no clue about his plans for your friends, or how bad of a person he was, or how many people he’s killed.

But you did. It was wrong, but how could something so wrong feel so good?

You came without warning, he groaned and couldn’t help it anymore. He came inside of you.

You whined as he pulled out.

“I know, I know. Sorry.” He said quietly, and he laid down next to you.

“Would now be a good time to tell you I like you?” You mumbled.

He laughed quietly. “I like you too.”

#ethan landry smut #ethan landry x reader #ethan landry x fem!reader #ethan landry #ethan kirsch #ethan kirsch x reader #jack champion x reader #jack champion smut

[valliesworld]

You Mean Something

masterlist

simon “ghost” riley x reader, mentions of other task force 141 members

genre: angst

warnings; she/her pronouns, mature content, standard call of duty violence, cursing, kidnapping, mentions of self harm and suicide, mentions of torture, starvation

synopsis; after a failed mission that left you in the hands of the enemy, you finally realise how much Ghost cares for you

Distractions came easy to you, even if you tried your hardest to stay focused, to stay alive and awake, your mind still thought of him while you were being subjected to such torture. You think about his eyes a lot, how in his eyes his his humanity was shown, the person he really was. There were times it got lost, when he would that mask and military vest, when he would become the man the army demanded of him. But you saw it in his eyes that day in the sunshine, waiting for the cadets to finish training. You saw the humour that burned there too, the sort that stays for an eternity. There was something in his spirit that danced when he trains, like a fire giving just the right amount of warmth. You have seen it die too, the flames almost extinguished, when he was under the gun of guilt, shame and fear after a particularly hard mission. You know that isn't him, not the real version, the person you’ve grown to love with everything that is yourself. That's why you had to see his eyes before you go, to see the real him before you decided to give up and let death win. You wanted him to see you too, the girl who messes up, but would do anything in her power to keep him and the squad safe, to keep him emotionally healthy, no matter how deep his scars go. So when you think of him, you see a cheeky man who made cadets run laps til they turned green and hope to god he thinks of the vulnerable version of you, the one beneath the soldier.

In moments of silence, when your captors would leave you be, you would remembered the last conversation you had with your family. She had wished you well with tears in her eyes, making you promise you’d come back to her. Your father had been busting himself with house work, refusing to acknowledge that his youngest child was off to another suicide mission, just like he always did before you left. You had kissed your mother on the cheek as a goodbye, not promising a thing but granting her a smile, just in case that was the last time she’d ever see you again. Death wasn’t scary for you, you had accepted that you would die young, in your line of work death was not something that could be prevented, no matter how hard you might try. What did scare you though, was your nieces and nephews growing up without you, only seeing you in photos, it was your mother and father having to bury their youngest, it was your older brother and sister living without you. Death didn’t scare you, but the impact of yours on your family did.

You didn't know how long you had been held captive for, it could have been weeks, months, even years, at that point. What you did know was that the starvation they subjected you to as one last punishment had began to take it's toll on your body, your weight had dropped rapidly, leaving those metal cuffs loose around your wrists and ankles. At first it had been small strands of hair falling out from stress, then slowly it became more and more til you were left with thin strands to cover your head. Your body was always shivering, cold to touch, and you didn't know whether it was because you were forced to sleep on freezing concrete or if hypothermia was beginning. to settle within your bones.

Makarov had captured you for one thing, he had seen potential in you, wanted you on his side, and the only way he believed he could do that was if he broke you down into nothing, just to rebuild you as the soldier he always desired. He had watched from afar as you had taken down men three times your size, as you cleared bases by yourself, and how you lived up to your callsign. He knew you were young, younger than the other task force members, and with being young came being naive and impressionable, Makarov wanted to use those attributes and swing them to his favour.

In some of your exhausted delusions, you dreamt of your team, of your family. You had dreamt of your first Christmas with the task force, how you had sat in your room with the computer screen on, talking and listening to your family on the other line, wishing to be back home and apart of their celebrations, that was, until Gaz barged into your room and dragging you out for a Christmas surprise with your chosen family. You had dreamt of the day you accepted death, how you leant up against that brick wall, the rain pouring from above and mixing with your blood; red water sweeping the street. You had accepted your fate that afternoon, dying alone, until you knight in a shining skull mask whisked you off your feet and to survival. You dreamt of the day your nephew was born, how his tiny hands wrapped around your finger, chosing you to be his favourite person in that moment. You dreamt of many things, but one always kept returning. The delusion that Ghost would save you one last time.

"Fear is part of being human, Redback, it's the precursor to bravery. We need it, it wakes us up to what needs to be done. So feel it, own it, let it ignite your thoughts," Gaz's words echo in your mind constantly, they were one of the first words he ever spoke to you, and they resonated with her throughout her short years with the task force. They kept you alive at that point, they told you no matter how inhuman you felt, you were still alive, still breathing, still ready to fight.

Your cell was a hollow cube of concrete, one way in, no windows. In there you could have no idea how much time had passed or even if it was night or day. It was totally disorientating by design. Given enough time a person could forget their own name in there, and you were beginning to. The isolation was total and the stimulation was zero. No sound, no light, no furniture or cloth of any kind.

You could hear the sound of feet slamming against concrete, though your eyes never opened, refusing to see what was coming to torment you that time. They had stripped you of everything, they took your weapons, and your dignity. They had left you to rot in the cell in cotton underwear and a white undershirt, though both items were caked in dirt, grim, and stained with your own blood.

The sound of keys jingling had caught your attention, and when you opened your eyes you kept your gaze away from the intruder. Instead, you found the bruises and dried blood on your ankles far more interesting. The person had unlocked your hands first, fumbling with the keys as if he were nervous, as if something had gone wrong, and that had been his first mistake. When your hands were greeted freedom, you finally looked over at the man, your knife, the one they had stolen from you, sat perched on his hip. They had stolen your gear just to use it against you, and that fact gave you more motivation than anything previously, you wanted your things back.

Without a second of hesitation, your hands wrapped around the knife, plucking it from his tactical belt, your tactical belt, and plunged it into his thigh. He cried out in pain, something you never gave them the satisfaction of hearing, as he doubled over from the fiery sensation in his leg you pulled the knife out again and plunged it into his neck, blood that was not yours finally coating your body again. As you let out all your frustration on the man, pulling the knife out just to slam it back in over and over again, you began to register the sound of gunfire, the sound of Russian shouting, and the feeling of panic the base you were trapped within was beginning to feel.

Once you were positive the man below you was dead, you began stripping him as they had once stripped you. You took the keys from his cold, dead hands, and unlocked your feet from the shackles, your ankles screaming in relief. You then took his clothing, albeit they were far too large for you, they were better than what you had been forced to stay in for your time as a prisoner. Tightening the pants around your waist with your belt, you felt somewhat okay, you didn't feel helpless or hopeless, you felt determined, determined to get out of there yourself, since there would be no rescue party for you.

Gripping onto the rifle, one that wasn't yours originally, you began your escape. As you made your way through the base, leaving a trail of bodies behind you, you felt like yourself again, you felt like the soldier once were. You had reminded yourself of things that were facts; you were one of the youngest ever recorded female members to join the SAS, you were an accomplished soldier, a sergeant before your twenty first birthday, you were a force to be reckoned with; those facts kept you motivated throughout your escape, you were all those things, and more, and you could get yourself out of any situation.

Sticking to the shadows, you took down over twenty soldiers, cornering them til they were alone, and that tactic had worked well enough, til your luck ran out. The corner you took was one of bad judgement, over fifteen men resided there, all on high alert for your whereabouts, and with no shadows to conceal yourself, you had no other option but to simply turn back around, though when you did so, you found yourself face with thirty other men, ready to pounce. Weighing your options, you knew that to surrender was your only choice, if you wanted to stay alive. Letting the rifle hang from your shoulder, you held your hands up, defeat running thick through your veins.

They didn't make a move though, not one soldier stood out of line, all of them waiting for you to make the first move, to do something unpredictable, until he sauntered out of the crowd. Makarov's second in charge, Yuri, grinned like a mad man as he gripped you roughly, pulling you in the direction of another room and dismissing the men on guard. You were no longer deemed as a threat as he led you into the room, far nicer than the cell you had grown accustomed to.

He stripped you of your weapons, though he was not thorough, leaving your bloodied knife within your waistband as he took the rifle and pistol from your body, turning the safety on and throwing them across the room.

"I thought we beat the need to escape out of you," he tsked, hands feeling your body in a way far less appropriate than simply looking for weapons. "But I now see that you have to be broken in a different way to get you to comply with our rules."

Your heart dropped to your stomach as the five other men walked through the door, dragging their bodies with them. Three had a grip on Ghost's sluggish body, and two were struggling against Soap's protests. The men forced Ghost and Soap to their knees, Ghost having to steady himself by placing his hands in front of him to keep him from falling foreword. They had drugged him, most likely using the same one they had used to keep you compliant in the first weeks of your capture.

"Redback?" Ghost questioned softly as he looked towards you, confusion running through his mind.

"These two were found sneaking around our base," Yuri revealed, toying with a piece of your hair as he forced you to look at them. Soap held a look of distraught as he looked over at you, like he had just seen a real ghost, while Ghost's eyes held a look of resentment within them. You weren't sure who the resentment was pointed towards, but you had a sneaking suspicion it wasn't directed at you. "And now you'll watch them die."

Yuri stepped foreword, his own pistol raised, pressing the barrel against Soap's head as he looked back at you. With a clenched jaw, you pulled the knife from your waistband and pressed it against your wrist. The sharpness of it caused a small speck of blood to dribble down your arm and drip to the floor, but despite the sting you kept it in place.

"Makarov wants me, you kill them and I'll die with them," You spoke clearly, despite your voice being hoarse from not speaking for days on end. "How would that look for you? Under your watch, his prized possession dies because you can't do your fucking job right."

Yuri let out a dry chuckle, "so loyal," he commented, looking towards the men knelt before him, "and where are your pleas? When she was taken from you, you left her. Maybe you two would rather her blood spill to cover your sins."

"Shut up," You hissed, their silence to his words were deafening, a heartbreaking scene as Ghost looked anywhere but at you.

"I want you to memorise this moment, they weren't here to rescue you," Yuri growled, "They were completing another mission, and you so happen to be here as well."

Ghost's eyes, despite hooded with the effects of the drug, widened slightly, struggling even harder against the three men that held him in place. Soap on the other hand, used the distraction as an ample time to escape. Taking the gun from Yuri, Soap pointed it towards the men holding him down and left off two shots, killing them quickly. You had taken this opportunity to throw the knife, watching with a sickening smile as it lodged itself into Yuri's chest. Ghost, regardless of being under the influence of a drug, took down two of the men holding him hostage while Soap let off another shot into the final man.

Ignoring the two men, you walked over towards Yuri, watching as he spluttered out in pain. Hovering over him, you crouched down, twisting the knife deeper into his chest. Pulling it out, you relished in the pool of blood that began to form.

"I want you to memorise this moment," You repeated his words to him as you dragged the bloodied knife down his cheek, smearing his own blood on his face, "that nobody is here to rescue you." and with that, you plunged the knife up through his bottom jaw.

Months had come and gone, and you had not spoken a word to anyone on Task Force 141 since you had been brought back to the. safety of your base. The wounds, the injuries to your flesh would heal long before you're able to heal your brain. You had gone through a lot, many scars now littered your body, your ankles and wrists having a permanent red line from the rubbing of your shackles, and your mind was in shambles. Laswell had told you that they hadn't looked for you once, that they assumed you were dead and had even informed your family of you being killed in action. You felt almost betrayed that they didn't even bother to look for you, that the mission was more important to them, to Ghost, than to see you still breathing.

The doctors had gotten you healthy again, gave you the fluids and sustenance you had been deprived on before setting you up with a physiotherapist. That man had retaught you how to do simple tasks, explaining to you that the only reason you were capable of such things during your escape was because of the adrenaline coursing through your veins. It had taken you four months to get back to doing things on your own, and an additional three months before you were back to your usual abilities, and still within all that time, you refused to look at the men that had left you in the hands of the enemy. They had offered you leave, to go home and spend time with family, but if the mission was as important as leaving behind a team member, it only made sense to stay and complete it before gifting yourself with seeing your parents relieved faces.

The gym was quiet at three am, sleep no longer a need for you as it only plagued your mind with unwanted memories. The sound of your knuckles coming in contact with the rubber punching bag silenced your mind, created an inner peace within you as you assaulted the equipment. Nobody else resided inside as you continued to push your abilities, seeing just how long you could do this before getting tired. You used to be able to go for hours, but now, it seemed that you could only do half of that.

Your inner peace was quickly ruined by the sound of heavy footsteps, and before you could even register what was happening, his hands wrapped around your waist and pushed you against the closest wall. He turned you to face him, the hard skull plate from his mask was gone, his balaclava the only thing separating them from each other. His breathing was heavy and his eyes were hooded from lack of sleep, the black war paint he usually sported was not there, leaving his expressions easier to read.

"You never threaten to kill yourself to save me again," His voice was rough, reminding you of a hot long black in the early of the morning, bitter and abrasive, burning your tongue. "I'd rather get shot ten times over than ever see you do that again."

Scoffing, you looked at him with a frown, "A few months too late for this revelation, Lieutenant."

"I don't care," He huffed, grip on your waist loosening, "You don't get to do that shit, not anymore."

"And you don't get too care, why do you even care? Huh?" You spluttered out, words dripping with venom, "You left me there to die, Laswell told me everything, told me how you all didn't even give me a second thought, told my fucking family I was dead."

"I watched you die," He growled out, "I watched as that bullet went through your chest, as you fell to the ground."

"And you didn't think to check? The mission that important to you that you can't go over to a wounded soldier and check if their heart is still beating?" You all but screamed at him, if you were anyone else, your yelling at a superior would go severly punished, "I was wearing a fucking chest plate, you saw me put it on, you checked I had it on before we started that fucking mission, and you still left me for dead."

"You don't think I don't remember that now?" He yelled back. at you, voice booming throughout the gym, "You don't think I wasn't awake every night wondering about you? Thinking of things I could have done differently? I completed that mission and went back for you, you were gone."

"Why do you care so much?" You hissed at him, "The first time we met you told me that I'd be another dead body at the edge of your boot because you didn't think I was good enough, why care now?"

"Because you mean something to me," He revealed, though his words were sweet his tone wasn't, it was like he resented the fact that you meant something to him, "you mean more to me every single day, that's why I care."

#simon riley x you #simon riley #simon riley x reader #ghost #ghost x reader #ghost cod #ghost posts #ghost stories #cod mw22 #simon riley smut #call of duty mw2 #ghost mw2 #cod mwii #mw2 #modern warfare #modern warfare imagine #simon ghost riley #simon riley imagine #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon riley x f!reader #simon riley mw2 #simon riley angst #simon riley one shot

[chvoswxtch]

Hey, got a Matt y/n request.

You go off your pill without Matt knowing because you want to have a family with Matt. Matt notices you're ovulating because you smell different and tries to get you pregnant.

#daddy and mommy kink

#cumpi€

#Matt the animal in bed

nonnie, you summoned my inner whore, and she has answered.

this is absolute filth with bits of angst and fluff sprinkled in. please enjoy (& thank you). 🖤

warning: contains explicit sexual content (minors please dni), swearing, and mentions of pregnancy word count: 3k

ours.

There was something different about you and it was driving Matt absolutely fucking insane. From the second he woke up this morning, he had this carnal desire for you that he couldn’t seem to tame. Your scent lingered on your pillow and Matt found himself burying his face into it as his hand searched for the softness of your skin, but all he found was the absence of warmth on his fingertips. He couldn’t hardly focus as he got ready for work, and it only got worse throughout the day.

As noon rolled around, he was elbow deep in case work and in the middle of going over a document with Foggy when he caught wind of your scent on the street. He immediately paused, cocking his head to the side slightly as he tracked your path from two blocks away to their office. By the time you had reached their floor and before you could even knock, Matt was swinging the door open and pulling you in so quickly, it made you dizzy.

“Matt! I almost dropped everything!”

You giggled softly as you readjusted your grip on the carryout bag containing all your orders and the tray of drinks. Matt’s tongue darted out to lick his lips as his hands remained firmly gripped on your hips, forcing a tight lipped smile on his mouth.

“Sorry, sweetheart. Heard you coming. What’s all this?”

“Well I figured you guys were swamped and hadn’t eaten yet so I brought lunch.”

Matt’s heart should’ve swelled with adoration and gratitude at the sweet gesture. But instead, a very different part of his body was swelling and he was struggling to retain his composure. 

“Y/N Murdock you are a goddamn saint.”

Another giggle escaped your mouth at Foggy’s comment, and Matt squeezed his eyes shut behind his crimson glasses as he did his best to swallow back a moan. 

“Matt? You alright?”

Matt turned his head slightly in Karen’s direction, a slight panic rising up in his chest as he stumbled over his words.

“Uh y-yeah, why?”

“Because you’ve got a death grip on Y/N/N, and you look like you’re in pain.”

Matt could feel everyone’s eyes on him, including you, and he all of a sudden realized just how tight his hold was on you. He cleared his throat as he released you, taking half a step back as he tried to fix his features into an expression of nonchalance.

“I’m alright, city's just a bit loud today. That’s all.”

Thirty minutes had never felt so fucking long in his entire life. Matt’s knee bounced uncontrollably underneath the table as you laughed and caught up with Foggy and Karen. Everytime a breeze blew through the open window, more of your scent wrapped around Matt like a decadent haze, and he had to stuff his mouth full of food to mask the reaction it was pulling out of him. He could feel sweat forming along his hairline the longer he sat next to you. Matt had always found you desirable, but there was something different about you today that had his half hard cock aching with need.

He racked his brain for any kind of excuse to get Foggy and Karen to leave, even just for five minutes so he could take you in his office and fuck you over his desk. Matt had to physically stop himself from shuddering as you leaned over to press a soft kiss to his jawline, digging his blunt nails into his own palm as he fought back the urge to slip his hand beneath the dress you were wearing. His head was so clouded with lust he hadn’t heard a word you’d said, and his eyebrows suddenly knit in confusion as he noticed your presence by the door.

“Where are you going?”

“Back to work. I just told you I have a meeting in fifteen minutes?”

“You did?”

A slight pout formed on your lips as you made your way back over to Matt, placing your hand gently on his cheek and letting out a soft noise as his burning skin touched your palm. 

“Baby, are you sure you’re alright? You’re really warm.”

“I’m always warm.”

“Yeah, but you’re like extra warm right now, and you’re sweating.”

“It’s just…hot.”

Matt tried his hardest to appear normal, flashing you a half smile as he turned his head to gently press a kiss to your wrist.

Fuck. That made it worse. 

“Okay…well, if you do start to feel bad, please go home.”

“I will.”

Matt could feel your attention directly on him and the roll of your eyes before you turned to Foggy and Karen with a playful smile on your lips.

“Will one of you please send my stubborn husband home if he gets worse?”

“You got it, Y/N/N.”

Matt swallowed thickly as you gave Foggy a grateful smile before bending down to press a soft kiss to his lips. He figured once you left, he would finally be able to breathe again. All he had to do was focus back on the case, and the rest of the day would fly by so he could go home to you; so he could finally have you. He just had to make it a few more hours. He could do that. Right?

Wrong. Very fucking wrong. The sound of the clock ticking through the office seemed to taunt him about how much time wasn’t moving as fast as he wanted it to. He couldn’t focus at all. His fingers trailed over the same rows of braille repeatedly, until his fingertips almost felt raw, but he still couldn’t decipher a fucking letter. He couldn’t put them together in his brain. All he could think about was you and burying himself inside you. He made it two hours after you left before he was bolting out of the office with a half assed excuse about being sick, frantically calling you on the way out and begging for you to meet him at home.

The second you stepped through the door, Matt was on you. The front door slammed shut as he pinned you against it, ripping your keys and purse out of your hands to toss them carelessly aside. His hands roamed everywhere, gripping and kneading every bit of you they could find. Eventually you were able to break apart from him, pressing your palms firmly against his chest as his mouth eagerly sought you out again.

“Matthew Murdock, what has gotten into you?”

“I…I don’t know.”

Matt panted heavily as he licked his lips, blank eyes darting back and forth in a frenzied manner. You brought one of your hands up to cup his jaw gently and he instantly leaned into your touch, a soft whine sounding in the back of his throat.

“I thought you were sick?”

“Not sick. Just need you. Needed you all day, sweetheart. Please.”

It was then that you noticed Matt’s pupils were blown wide open, and felt the evidence of his need against your lower stomach. Your lips parted slightly in an ‘o’ shape, finally putting all of the pieces of his odd behavior together in your head. 

“Oh.”

“Please, sweetheart. I need you so fucking badly.”

“I…um…we…we can’t right now, Matty. But I can-”

“Why?”

Matt almost sounded like he was in pain as he tilted his head to the side to stare at you, and the anguish was plastered clear over his face. It made you feel guilty to see him this way, and you were worried how he would react to what you had been keeping from him.

“Because…I…I went off the pill. And we don’t…we don’t have anything.”

Matt’s face instantly contorted in confusion, placing his palm on the door by the side of your head as he tried to process your words.

“What? When?”

“A month ago.”

“Why?”

“Because…I just…didn’t like what it was doing to my body.”

You were hoping that Matt was so far gone he wouldn’t notice your lie, but the disappointed look on his features made your heart start to pound uncontrollably.

“Can you answer my question without lying to me.”

You internally winced at the edge in his voice. You had never lied to him before, and when he had told you the truth about being the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen, you both made a promise to never lie to one another about anything. Part of your vows were to always be honest, and you felt guilty that you had messed that one up. 

“That wasn’t a lie. I don’t like what it’s doing to my body. That’s just…not the main reason.”

“And what is?”

“I want a family, Matt. I know we’ve talked about it briefly, and you said you wanted one too, but I wasn’t sure if you were ever gonna slow down enough to focus on starting one with me. I just thought…I thought if it happened, you’d be so happy you wouldn’t be mad that I didn’t tell you. I…I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have lied to you. I should have told you what I was doing. I just…I want this so badly, Matty. I keep having dreams about it, it’s all I can think about lately, it’s just…like this need that’s taken over. I don’t know how to explain it.”

Matt could hear the sincerity in your voice and in your heart’s rhythm. His face softened as he listened to you, and a feeling of guilt crept up on him. He had promised you a family once the two of you got married. He did want that. There had just been so much going on lately, the idea of starting one hadn’t occurred to him.

As he opened his mouth to speak, he caught a taste of your arousal on his tongue, and suddenly realization struck him like fucking lightning.

You were ovulating.

That’s what this was. You had been on birth control the entire time you’d known Matt, so he’d never experienced this with you before. This is what was driving him fucking insane. Your body was practically screaming at him, begging him for a baby, and fuck if his body wasn’t listening. A quiet gasp left your mouth when you noticed the darkened look in Matt’s eyes. You knew that look; you saw it when the Devil came home and wanted to play.

“Matty-”

Matt ignored the warning in your voice as he crashed his lips into yours, grabbing onto the back of your head to hold you in place as he nipped at your bottom lip and soothed the sting with his tongue. In a flash he’d ripped your dress over your head and attached his lips to your neck, licking, sucking, and biting his way down to your collarbones. His fingers deftly unhooked the clasp of your bra and tugged it down your shoulders, pulling a surprised gasp from your mouth as the soft fabric of his shirt brushed over your sensitive nipples.

“Matty…what ah…what are you doing?”

Matt’s voice was dangerously low as he moved his lips up to nibble on the shell of your ear, the warmth of his breath causing a shiver to cascade down your spine.

“I’m gonna fuck you until you’re pregnant.”

An obscene moan left your lips and shot straight down to Matt’s cock. A quiet growl sounded in your ear as he lifted you up and trapped you against the door with his hips, rutting into you as his cock strained painfully against the fabric of his pants. He could feel some of your arousal seep through the material from your soaked panties, and you moaned loudly when he rubbed against you just right.

Your fingers were frantic as they clawed at his tie, nearly tearing half the buttons off his shirt as you practically ripped it off his chest. Reaching down between your bodies, you swiftly pulled the leather from Matt’s belt, unbuttoning and unzipping his pants as you fervently shoved them down his thighs along with his briefs just enough to free him. Matt groaned loudly as the cool air met his weeping tip, using his legs to support you as his hands completely tore your panties off your hips.

Matt didn’t waste a second, immediately penetrating the warmth of your slick walls with his thick cock. A loud moan tore through each of you, echoing throughout the entire apartment. 

“Hang on.”

Matt’s voice was rough and gravely as he ordered you, and you whimpered in response as you locked your legs around his waist and gripped onto his shoulders tightly. Everytime he was inside you felt euphoric, but God this time felt different. He couldn’t pinpoint if it was because he was extra sensitive from being so turned on all day, knowing what he was about to do to you, the idea of how much everything was about to change for the two of you, or what, but it unlocked something inside him that had Matt fucking you savagely against the front door. 

A tiny piece of him felt guilty for taking you like this, knowing this could be the time that resulted in the creation of your child. The good Catholic boy in him knew he should’ve made this special and been more romantic, taken his time to savor every second of this beautiful moment. But the Devil in him wanted you and wanted you now. He wanted to plant himself in the deepest part of you, claim your womb for everyone to see, because sometimes that ring wasn’t fucking enough.

Everyone would know that you were his. They wouldn’t be able to miss your swollen belly that carried his child.

As Matt’s grunts and moans in your ear became more feral, his pace got impossibly faster and brutal. He was practically slamming you into the door with each precise snap of his hips, reaching that spot inside you only he could find, tearing the loudest cries of his name from your chest. The only other thing he could hear besides your pretty sounds were the echoes of your skin slapping together and your heart thundering in his ears.

“You gonna make me a daddy, sweetheart? Gonna be a good girl and do that for me?”

“Y-yes…”

“Yes you are. Because I’m gonna come so deep in this tight little cunt of yours, over and over and over-“

Matt accentuated each of his words with powerful, quick snaps of his hips into yours.

“And I’m not letting you leave this apartment until I know for sure that it took. You understand, pretty girl?”

All you could do was moan in response as you dug your nails into Matt’s broad shoulders, letting your head fall back against the door as he fucked you how he wanted. You were completely at his mercy like this, all you could do was take it, but God it had been so long since you’d had him like this. 

“You want me to make you a mommy, sweetheart? Hm?”

“Yes! Please, Matty…please.”

“Beg for it.”

Matt bared his teeth in a snarl as he dug his fingertips roughly into the flesh of your hips, marking you just as much on the outside as he planned to do on the inside. You could hardly form a coherent thought from the way he was fucking you. You were getting dangerously close to falling over that edge, and you desperately wanted him to jump with you.

“Come on, sweetheart. Let me hear it. Beg me. Beg me for a baby.”

“God…please…”

“No. Not him, me.”

“Fuck Matty-I…please…please, I want it. I want you to…g-give me a baby, please.”

“My baby. Tell me you want my baby. Let me hear it.”

You could tell Matt was close based on his falter in rhythm. His thrusts were getting sloppy, and the devil’s edge to his voice was slipping away into a needy whine. He was begging you to beg him. 

“Want your baby, Matty. Just yours. Ours. Please, baby. Please give it to me.” 

You gripped onto the back of Matt’s neck, pulling him in for a searing passionate kiss. Matt let out a loud yell as he finally spilled inside you, his hips stuttering as he fucked his seed as deep into you as he could, whimpering breathlessly at the way you clenched around his sensitive cock. 

Both of you were sweaty, panting messes as you came down from your collective highs. Matt kept a tight grip on your hips, stumbling backwards until his back hit the wall, sliding down slowly until he let himself fall onto the floor with you on his lap. He rested his forehead against your shoulder, closing his eyes as the haze he had been in all day seemed to slowly disappear, allowing his senses to finally clear. 

“Matty?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you.”

A smile stretched across his mouth as he pulled back slightly, staring blankly at you in pure adoration. 

“I love you.”

He closed his eyes as he leaned into your palm that cradled his jaw, letting out a deep exhale through his nose as the guilt started to set in.

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“That. I…I should’ve made that more special.”

“Matty-“

“I fucked your mom against the front door is not exactly how I want to tell our kid they were created.”

Smacking your palm against his chest, you immediately erupted into a fit of giggles that Matt couldn’t help joining.

“Matthew! First of all, our child is never going to want to know how they were created. Second of all, you have nothing to be sorry for. I love you, and I know you love me. And we love each other so much, we decided to create a life together made up of both of us. Don’t you think that’s special?”

Matt took a deep breath as his tongue quickly wet his lips, nodding his head slowly as he wrapped his arms tightly around your waist.

“Yeah, I do.”

“Good. So do I. Now, if you really feel the need to redeem that Catholic guilt of yours, we can increase our chances in bed and be as sappy as you want.”

Matt rolled his eyes as a playful smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth, leaning in to nudge his nose against yours. 

“Heaven forbid I try to show my wife a little romance.”

“Romance away, Murdock. Take me to bed and put a baby in me.”

#matt murdock #matt murdock x y/n #matt murdock x you #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x fem!reader #matt murdock x female reader #matt murdock x f!reader #matt murdock fic #matt murdock smut #matt murdock request #daredevil #daredevil fic #daredevil smut #daredevil request

[cordeliawhohung]

all i can think about it ghost getting a hand tattoo of a skull (just the nose and mouth) and him using his tattooed hand to cover y/n’s mouth when she’s being too loud when he’s fucking her in the barracks. it makes him feral at the sight of half of y/n’s face being covered with a skull

i am so glad i'm not the only one who goes feral over the thought of simon covering your mouth with his hand to shut you up. thank you for feeding my delusions <3 also i apologize this took me a bit to write ;aslkdjf (also wait now i'm realizing maybe you just wanted to share in a delusion but... too late i already wrote all this so)

masterlist

warnings: smut!!! minors dni! slight breath play, somewhat established relationship, unprotected sex, creampie, slight degradation if you really squint. bad editing. military inaccuracies to some extent, i'm sure. 1.4k words because i'm an idiot

Everybody knew that the walls in the barracks were thin. Sure, the rooms were nice and the common area was comfy and furnished, but you could hear everything. The person upstairs listening to Amy Winehouse, your next door neighbors playing some video game, someone taking a shower downstairs; you could hear it all. And with your lieutenant's cock buried deep inside of you, you were more aware of the paper thin walls than normal.

Simon had you laid out on your back, legs spread wide to accommodate his large frame as he settled himself into your heat. You were utterly bare and exposed to him, as your clothing had been torn off long ago, while the only articles of clothing he had bothered to take off was his jumper and mask. He had hardly unzipped his pants before trying to sink into you.

Each time Simon thrust inside of you, a moan bubbled up in your throat and threatened to escape, but you held it back like your life depended on it. Your bunk mate was gone, but that didn't save you from the prying ears of everyone around you. But fuck, it was almost too difficult.

"Fuck," Simon hissed. He could feel the way you fluttered around him, practically begging him for more. There was a heaviness in his eyes as he looked down at you, but his breath was surprisingly even and calm despite the pace in which he fucked you. "Look at you. So fuckin' beautiful, love."

His hands roamed your body, starting from where he had been holding your hips and slowly working up. On his left arm was a sleeve that covered the expanse of his forearm. It was something dark, and littered with skulls and guns among other things. You never had the time to study it as much as you liked, but you were more familiar with the tattoo that covered his right hand. It was a plain black inked tattoo that had the mouth and nose of a skull. There was something about the way that it accentuated the thick muscles and every vein and tendon in his hand that made you go feral.

And god, the way his hands slid up your body? Watching the ink of his skin trace up from your hips, over your waist and rib cage, until they settled on the tender flesh of your breasts? A pitched groan pushed past your lips as you arched your body into his touch.

"Nuh uh. What happened to bein' quiet?" Simon asked facetiously. His pace slowed but only a little as he leaned forward, lips brushing against the tender flesh where your neck and shoulder met. "Thought you said you were gonna behave."

You swallowed a thick lump in your throat as you caught your breath to the best of your ability. He was always so teasing with you, so much so that it was almost infuriating. But those beautiful brown eyes of his almost made up for it.

"Sorry," you apologized in a pathetic tone that surprised even yourself. "Just feels so fucking good..."

"I know, sweetheart," he said, accentuating his sentence with a particularly deep thrust. "But we can't have the whole base hearin' you like this. What'd you think they'd say if they knew it was my cock makin' you feel this good?"

He didn't even give you the time to think or answer before he leaned back and pounded into you with more fervor than he had before. Your mouth fell open in a silent moan, and Simon drank it all up. Every twitch of your legs, the bouncing of your breasts, the way your chest heaved and strained against moans begging for freedom. It was his. All his.

His left hand came up and settled on your lower stomach for a soft moment. Like he was enjoying the way your muscles tensed with every thrust of skin against skin. But things changed when he slowly added pressure. It felt like Simon had your very soul in a choke hold. The tip of his cock had already been abusing that spongy spot inside of you, but as he pressed on your stomach you felt that friction only build.

You couldn't hold back the moan that left you after he did that. All you could focus on was the climax that built inside you with near concerning speed. The intensity of it was so strong that he ripped another moan from your lips, and then another.

Until your moans were quickly smothered.

His free hand clasped around your mouth, and any sounds that you had been making were muffled into the palm of his hand. Simon opened his mouth as if to say something, as if to chastise you, but whatever scolding he was going to give you was quickly lost in the back of his throat.

That beautiful ink on his skin, the one you loved to admire so often, almost looked better on you than it did him. With his hand muffling you, the mouth of the skull tattoo lined up almost perfectly with the features of your face.

Worried that he was going to stop, you looked up at him with an apology in your eyes. But you were surprised to find something other than feigned disappointment in his. There was something else there, something feral glinted in his eyes as his irises dilated.

Shifting his hand up, Simon's palm covered both your nose and mouth, lining your features up perfectly with the half skull face of his tattoo. Your breathing wasn't fully restricted, but you could feel your lungs burn with each breath you took.

Then, with one hand over your mouth and the other still pressing on your abdomen, Simon began rutting into you with a force that felt primal. The ever level headed lieutenant turned into a crazed dog at the sight of you with that fucked out expression in your eyes and every sound you made lost into the flesh of his skin.

"Just couldn't keep quiet, could you?" he asked, though his tone was far from upset. "Said you were gonna behave, now look at you. Made a fuckin' mess outta you, didn't I sweetheart?"

You were coming undone before you could fully process it. Between the way your mind spun with lack of oxygen, the pressure on your stomach, and his voice? It was a miracle you even lasted as long as you did. Something snapped inside of you that sent a warm wave through your body that drowned every single one of your senses. Your cunt fluttered around Simon's cock as your orgasm rendered your mind blank, and he let out a low grunt at the sensation.

Giving you a slight break, Simon's hand lifted off of your stomach, but his thrusts continued in the same needy, nearly animalistic, pace. After a few more sloppy ruts, his hips rested firmly against you as he spilled inside of your cunt. Even with him buried deep inside of you, you could feel the way his cum seeped out of you, as if he filled you to the very brim.

Simon's hand finally fell away from your mouth, and he collapsed forward where he pressed gentle kisses along the side of your neck. Your breaths came in heavy, but you still managed a chuckle as you wrapped your arms around his neck.

"I'm beginning to think you like it when I'm loud just so you have a reason to shut me up," you teased.

"And I'm beginnin' to think you like me shuttin' you up," he countered as he nuzzled his nose against your cheek.

Though he couldn't see your face, you rolled your eyes at him but pulled him closer anyway. The person in the room underneath you had finished their shower, and your neighbors seemed to have gotten bored of their game. However, whoever was above you was still listening to Amy Winehouse. You wondered if you should get them a condolence card of some sort.

"I'll fuck you properly one of these days," Simon spoke up.

Eyebrows pinching together, you tilted your head to the side to rest it against his. "Was this not a proper fucking?"

The muscles in Simon's arms flexed as he lifted his torso off of yours. Dark eyes met yours as he looked down at you with a slight smirk. It was an expression you knew well, as he could be quite the cocky bastard. Still, you would be lying if you said that look didn't excite you.

"You've no idea, love."

GAH i had such a hard time writing this for some reason? the smut wasn't smutting (and i feel like it still isn't) but i really hope it was enjoyable anyway! i'm half awake writing/editing this after waking up from a migraine nap but i figured you guys deserved a treat <3

#simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley smut #simon riley x reader smut

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

Pretty like the wind

a/n Part one! this was born last night after a had a little cry over everything that's been going on lately. Oh, and you are free to listen to black friday by tom odell. ✨

was inspired by a request but I don't want to spoil anything so I won't answer the ask just yet.

warning: past trauma, implied violence.

Next chapter

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Love was one thing Azriel had dreamed about. Longed for. He had longed for it since he was born. He had known his mother's kind hands. Had felt a touch of tenderness, but those memories had been swept away. Buried. Shoved deep within him. Been burned out of him. Azriel had welcomed the mask of steel. Had wanted nothing more than to hide behind the tight, cold shield.

He had grown tired of being the victim. Of being shoved around. He wanted to be the one people ran from. He wanted to possess that power. To be someone people dreaded. To never fall again. To never be the one to yield. So, he welcomed the power the brotherhood with Rhys and Cassian brought him. He found strength in his brothers. They helped him up until Azriel was strong enough to stand on his own two feet.

Azriel had learned to live with the pain. He endured it. Let the scars bleed out. Let them scab over. He knew they would never truly fade. Mother, his hands were enough of a reminder of that. But they had settled enough. Settled enough for Azriel to want to live. He had found purpose in Rhys's court. Rhys had given him that. And Azriel was thankful for that in more than one way.

But the clenched grip of Amarantha had messed it all up. Had put so many things in motion. Had plucked out so many souls. Had woven so many lives. Had brought so much heartbreak. So much trauma and sleepless nights. That same helplessness. Yet it also brought Feyre to Rhys. It had brought Nesta to Cassian. But left Azriel empty-handed.

And the spymaster had observed them all. He had spent countless hours watching the love blossom right in front of him. He had caught onto the ways his brothers looked at their lovers. There was always something special about a gaze like that. It was unmistakable. So loud. Drenched with so many emotions, sometimes unnoticeable for the lovers but so clear for the ones who looked from the side.

That's when Azriel had grown restless. Careless. Desperate. He was ready to step on the values he treasured. The laws he believed in. He went as far as reaching for an already mated female. She was lost. Everyone should have sensed that. The world. The obligations they brought frightened her. And Azriel took advantage of that. He had told himself that this was right. That had to be. Three sisters for three brothers. But even with Elain wrapped up in his arms, the roaring didn't ease. But Azriel refused to let go.

Refused until Rhys stepped in. Until the high lord had done something he vowed to never do, Rhys forced Azriel to his knees with his magic. The spymaster could still hear the roaring tone, "I warned you. This thing you are doing is out of order. Elain is a mated woman, Azriel". Oh, how he had fought. How Azriel had said it over and over, the world he had made himself believe in. Three sisters for three brothers. Just that didn't reach Rhys, and when Azriel woke up in an unknown room, he knew the punishment he was to face was like no other.

Rhys had knocked politely on your mental shield that night. It was way too late. But you cracked the locks open. "Can I winnow to the sanctuary?", it was such a simple question. Yet it left you frowning. The lines on your face only deepened when you saw your high lord, followed by a male who held another unconscious body.

"I apologize for the inconvenience", Rhys stated. He was angry. Tired? You couldn't pinpoint the emotion. Drained - that seemed the most fitting. "What's... Is your soldier in need of healing?", you questioned calmly, already moving to roll up your sleeves. "In some ways...", Rhys breathed, and that's how you came to know the story of the man who had lost himself in search of love. The man who had crumbled under his demons. Male Rhys had sent to the oldest sanctuary in the Velaris Mountains. In hopes of mending the broken pieces.

Azriel did not leave his room after he regained consciousness. He was stripped of his daggers. The gift to winnow was without doubt taken away by Rhys himself. Oh, how much he had cursed his brother in the first days. He roared as he threw furniture around the small room. He growled loudly when they were all replaced by magic right in front of him. Oh, Azriel imagined how much pleasure Rhys was having watching this.

You had chosen to seek him out on his fifth day here. You had come every day, but the sheer sounds of distraction from within made you halt every time. Today, it all seemed a lot quieter. Too quiet, even. You knocked a couple of times. Not surprised when you didn't get the answer. You knew that the sanctuary provided him with food and water, but you didn't want him to feel like a prisoner.

He looked rough. You doubted he had bathed in the days he had been here. The air inside was thick. He had drowned out the light almost completely with his shadows. They swarmed around him frantically. You frowned at the harsh light that threatened to cave in on his darkness. Quickly moving your wrist, you drew back the sharp rays of light. The room dimmed.

"Hey", you breathed out quietly, "I wanted...", but the wave of darkness poured towards you, pushing you against the wall, making you gasp. "Where am I?", Azriel didn't sound human-like. An animal ridden with anger. "You're safe...", you breathed out. "That's not what I asked you!", Azriel roared. His fist shook right in front of you. "What will you do, spymaster, hit me?", you moved to push off the wall slightly. "You might be angry. The hell itself might be burning inside you for all I care", you said, opening your palms and waving threads of light through them. "But you were brought here for a reason, and you can cry like a little boy, but you will not raise a hand against any breathing creature that lives beneath this roof", your wild eyes met his. A battle of power deep-rooted. You weren't too surprised when a roar left Azriel's mouth. Thick clouds of darkness forming. You just worked faster. Suppressing it. Capturing it in the smoothness of warmth. Taking Azriel along with it. Even if that was the last thing you wanted to do,

"You will have to accept my apologies", Rhys had his head in his hands after you had been summoned into his office. He felt guilty; you couldn't mistake that emotion even if you wanted to. "Wipe that thought away", you said quietly, "He picked a fight with me. Your intervening would have caused more damage". Rhys let out a sigh. "I don't recognize him, Y/N.", the high lord shook his head, "I look at him. I look through his head, and... I don't see the same male I knew for centuries".

You made your way towards the window. "Do you remember the night you came to me after you realized that Feyre was your mate?" The question had made the high lord stiffen. He was grateful that you chose the word came instead of crawl. "Your heart was desperate, and your mind was full of roaring demons," you said as you stepped closer to the windowsill. "So time", Rhys muttered. You nodded, "Even the most broken souls find themselves eventually. We can guide them to it". Rhys nodded mostly to himself; he had so many things he still wanted to say to you and ask, but when he lifted his head, you were no longer there.

Azriel had no recollection of how he had gotten into bed. He had no recollection of opening the window ever so slightly. The cold wind soothed him. Easing the throbbing all over his body. His mind dragged out fragments of you. They were scattered and dim. But his skin still bore the feeling of light. He moved to sit up, frowning as a piece of paper fell to the floor. The spymaster reached for it instantly. "I'll forgive you for the outburst last night, but you're on kitchen duties for the rest of the month. I hope I won't have to drag you out myself", it read. Azriel stared at it. Gaped. Let the anger simmer. He crumpled the paper and threw it towards the fire, but one of his shadows caught it in time. Straightening it out before turning it back to Azriel. "You don't get to pick sides", Azriel snarled, but the shadows only waved the white paper stronger. "I could easily just make you vanish, you know?", the spymaster grumbled, but he still reached for the pile of clean clothes. He went as far as washing his face before he stepped out.

Only midway down the corridor did Azriel realize that he had no idea where he was going. And suddenly, a wave of panic washed over him. Was he even allowed to walk freely? Rhys had banished him; Mother only knew to what end. He had no idea where he was. He might as well have been cast to another dimension. The sound of small feet hitting the floor made Azriel twirl around.

Two babies, not older than five, ran towards him. Azriel waited for them to halt. Frighten and run away. But they moved towards him, squealing, clearly lost in whatever game they were playing. They dove under Azriel's wings, moving past him. Sprinting down the hall. Azriel's feet started moving without him even realizing it. He followed the laughter and happy shrieks.

He walked right until he was met with a big open space. The glass dome was right up above it. Stone columns supported it. Azriel moved quietly. He used the dim sides to hide himself. The place looked like a commune area. The sound of singing increased. Rounding the corner, Azriel moved to stand in the arch of two columns. Breath hitched in his throat as he saw Fea and Illyrian children dancing in circles. A handful of females were seated all around. He scanned the room.

His gaze halted. There, in the middle of one of the circles the children formed, stood you. Pieces of last night flashed in front of Azriel's eyes. The way he had leaped at you. The way you brought on the light. How you had wrapped him up in the comfort of it. He watched as you spun around as well. The white dress you wore twirled with you. He was convinced that you were glowing as you smiled at every little happy face that watched you.

You sang with them all, and Azriel found himself leaning against the column. He was oddly captivated by the view in front of him. A handful of tinny wings messily clapped as the younglings kicked off from the ground. Trying to soar into the air. Azriel watched them. Some old, deep wounds throbbed within his chest. He lowered his gaze for the moment, trying to suppress it. To shove it back deeper into himself.

But then an urge to lift his gaze back up struck him. Azriel found the most beautiful set of eyes looking right back at him. He wasn't sure how you had spotted him in the shadows, but you did. He held your gaze firmly. He thought about frowning. Snarling even for a second. But you had smiled up at him. Had smiled so brightly that Azriel felt some slither of warmth trying to spark to life within his chest. You nodded your head slowly at him, and Azriel found himself returning the gesture. Right as a warm feeling settled deep within his cold bones.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

#azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel imagine #azriel shadowsinger #acotar imagine #acotar x reader #acotar x you #azriel acotar imagine #azriel acotar x reader

[dancingunderagatheringstorm]

I watched The Fall of the House of Usher in one go while recovering from my COVID booster, so I was a little confused by why Madeline chose this phrase rather than something more resonant to her conversations with/about her murder victim. But now that I'm no longer semi-delirious with fever, I fucking love what this choice reveals about her. It shows that, despite the fact that Madeline's mask absolutely didn't crack at the time, Annabel's final line absolutely got under her skin. Annabel struck on a deep, unspoken fear: that Madeline is and will stay small, that she isn't special, and she won't change the world. And the reason that's so important is because, despite everything, Madeline is small. Not in ambition, but in focus and in spirit.

Madeline says her goal is to change the world, but that's not quite right. She also wants not to have to submit to men and wants not to be ignored, but that's more what she doesn't want than what she wants. Her real, deepest desire always comes last in those conversations: she wants to live forever. She never even frames it in the pseudo-altruistic language her brother uses. It's not about helping humanity to reach a new stage of consciousness; it's not about helping people not having to lose the ones they love. It's about her. Her, specifically, not dying. Such a small, selfish passion. Her narrow focus drives her selfish pettiness throughout (that final monologue!).

She'd probably deny that this insult stuck with her if anyone asked, and God knows she's a skilled enough liar that it'd seem genuine. But here, to a man that she knows can never tell anyone, she tries to pass on the most devastating judgement anyone has passed on her: you are so small. She tried to bury the truth of that statement in the basement of Fortunato Pharmaceuticals, to deliver it on to someone else. I like to think, though, that Annabel's proclamation continued to echo in Madeline's shriveled heart until the day The House of Usher collapsed upon her.

#madeline usher #the fall of the house of usher #mike flanagan #the fall of the house of usher spoilers

[mysteria157]

Chapter One

Pairing: Black Fem!Reader x Hitman Toji Fushiguro

CW: Profanity, Hints of Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff, Comfort

Word Count: Don't worry about it.

Summary:

“I’m only going to say this one more time, Toji. I don’t do situationships. I don’t do friends with benefits or the occasional hookup. You want more? I want you to try. Earn me.”

His hands are so bloody, that if you ever knew the source, you would'nt want someone like him to try. He shouldn't be here, taking up so much of your time, asking for more. But he's selfish.

-or; Toji, a notorious hitman, moves to America for more money and a better life for his son. He didnt expect to sleep with you, let alone want more. When his dangerous life catches up to him, he takes on one final lucrative hit, but realizes this target has unseen connections hitting closer to home. Now he must navigate a perilous job while desperately keeping his criminal double life hidden from you.

Authors Notes: Hello! I hope you all enjoy this first chapter. As stated in the masterlist, this fic is a continuation from Maneater, so reading that will definitely help set the tone for this fic. I plan to dig deep with this story and really find my voice writing a different genre.

As always, reblogs, comments, and likes are always appreciated! Enjoy and thank you for your support!

| Twitter | Ao3| Masterlist | Prologue | Next Chapter

Dividers: @royallaesthetics @eloquentmoon | Header: created by myself (fanart from Pinterest)

**Do not plagiarize any of my works or translate without my permission!**

…women like you drown oceans -Rupi Kaur

*** You ***

Pop!

The sharp sound of gum expanding and then exploding causes you to flinch, your eyeliner pen frozen just above your lid. Through the mirror’s reflection, you shoot a glare at the open closet door, where your cousin rummages through your clothes.

Pop!

She’s in her own little world. If this were any other circumstance, she would have been scolded for her habit of popping gum—a top offender on the list of annoying behaviors ingrained in both of you since childhood. You detest the sound, and if you were closer, you would have punched her in the stomach by now.

You and your cousin typically get along well, but she enjoys testing your limits to coax you out of your shell. The only way to shut her up is by letting her tire herself out during her talkative rampages or swinging at her when you’ve had enough.

Every day with her is a gamble of which will come first.

Your eyeliner is still hovering by your upper lid, suspended in place as you watch another sundress get haphazardly thrown against the closet wall instead of being put back on a hanger where it fucking belongs.

You can’t bother with trying to get violent with her, you’re way too preoccupied with other thoughts. More incessant thoughts like how to play it cool on a date. It’s not that hard, right? Be yourself, get a gauge of the man trying to impress you, entertain a few hours of your day and then back home to relax.

Easy.

If it were anyone else but Toji, then it would be easy.

You had buried yourself in double shifts and extended hours in the lab just to distract yourself from today. Anything to keep you busy and keep your mind off the fact that someone you are sort of interested in…wants to see you. And he reminds you every day when you look down at your phone.

Despite his admission of being a lazy texter, Toji is surprisingly consistent. But the messages take on a blunt form wrapped around a small pearl of care.

Toji: Eat breakfast. What good are you in a hospital if you pass out?

Toji: Stop taking on more shifts, its stupid. Go home and rest.

Toji: You better not be tired this weekend. 

No matter how hard you try to force your face to stay immobile, each text makes your lips twitch into a small smile. He masks his words in harsh deliveries, but the intention is obvious. The satisfying jolt that shoots up your spine when your phone buzzes with a notification from him should be embarrassing. It should be.

But you love it.

It’s absurd, really. Only two weeks have passed since you met him, hardly enough time to form any meaningful connection. Yet, that night at your uncle’s was unexpectedly delightful. Toji was, against your better judgment, charming and attentive, almost to the point of clinginess. And, undeniably, he’s attractive. And a fucking fantastic lay.

So, despite your instinct to ignore a man and the way they flaunt their feathers for your attention, you want Toji to bring that same energy as last time.

You lean your elbows back into the shiny wood of your vanity, focusing your attention on your eye as you lower the eyeliner to your skin.

Pop!

The sound makes you jump, disrupting your focus and smearing the eyeliner across your temple.

“Rene!” you bark, slamming your eyeliner down on the vanity top with a force that makes your hand sting, and you yank a drawer open in search of a makeup wipe. “Stop popping your gum before I come over there and beat the shit out of you.” As you wipe off the smudged makeup, you catch the reflection of your cousin emerging from your closet.

She embodies a beauty that’s almost blinding, matched only by her lively personality. So naturally, heads turn when she enters a room, her chocolate skin seemingly radiant wherever she goes. With her thick, kinky hair always in a protective style and her unshakeable confidence in her intelligence and appearance, Rene caught Shiu’s attention immediately, and he’s been captivated ever since.

She is one of very few in your family who truly gets you, who sees the world with clarity and understands its nuances and how to navigate through it without compromising her ideals. Since childhood, you’ve stuck to each other like glue. She understands you and your guarded demeanor, you understand her and her loud personality. She’s one of your best friends.

But at this moment, as she stands before you in booty shorts and a tank top that accentuates her curves, her twist out cascading from a pineapple updo, and an outfit draped over one arm, she is pissing you off as she pops her gum againwith a cheeky expression.

“I like your makeup.” A sly grin stretches on her face, enhancing her soft features. You ignore her, feeling your defenses rise as she effortlessly peels back your layers. The liquid eyeliner glides against the smooth brown of your skin, forming a subtle cat-eye as you pretend not to notice her approaching you from behind.

She gracefully settles onto your vanity top, ignoring your lipstick casing that teeters over and rolls across the shiny surface. You shoot her another glare before moving to your other eye. “You should put on some mascara too. When you give him head later today, I’m sure he’ll love to see it run down your cheeks and—”

You swing at her not even a second later, landing a solid smack on the side of her thigh. “UM Ow?!”

“Um?? Shut the fuck up,” you growl, sneering at her with a leveling scowl that you hope cuts through her.

It doesn’t.

Rene snorts, shrugging off the vanity and moving to your bed to change her clothes. As she pulls your dark jeans over her thick thighs, you can’t help but wonder if you should dress more…sexy?  Your jean shorts reveal enough skin, and the jersey fits snugly around your torso. You’re no stranger to dressing to the nines and making heads turn just like her, but you value practicality more than appeal. It’s a football game, after all, and you love football. Why bother looking overly sexy when you’ll be screaming and stuffing hotdogs and pretzels in your mouth?

Despite the logic, a hand of insecurity tightens around your throat.

Rene, like the annoyingly clairvoyant bitch she is, tastes the shift in the air and rolls her eyes at you through the mirror’s reflection. “You look fucking amazing. Toji asked you out—frequently, I might add.”

The memories of his persistence flash through your mind in a rush. Heated touches in the backseat of your truck, sweaty skin sliding against each other, and your mouth dripping with moans of satisfaction were constantly interrupted by his repeated question.

“Let me take you out.”

As if he couldn’t get enough. As if he wanted more. As if he wouldn’t leave your uncle’s house that night until you flat-out told him to leave you alone.

You haven’t entertained a man since your cheating ex, so your defenses remain high and guarded, fortified with brick and mortar, armed to fend off anyone who comes too close.

But in such a short time, Toji managed to advance further than others with hard skin resilient to your attacks, and a constant insistence to be by your side. He’s spoken to you in ways that would have landed others in the ER, yet his words were always laced with harsh care to make you confront your own overreactions instead of hiding.

“Stop acting up and let me be nice to you.”

“You’re not mean to men; you just don’t do bullshit.”

“It’s okay to be a little excited about this,” Rene interjects, slicing through the thick current of your anxiety.

And you are, excited and a little nervous, though you don’t respond to her, simply reaching for your clear lip gloss to finish your makeup.

By the time there is a knock on your door thirty minutes later, you and Rene are ready to go. Your curls are piled high on your head, tendrils falling to frame your face and your hairline slicked with curled edges. There’s a subtle shake in your hands wrapped around the handle of your front door, betraying the calm façade you wear.  As you open it, expecting Toji’s familiar face, you’re met with Shiu, a toothpick in his mouth and a gentle smile playing on his lips.

You greet him warmly with a hug, letting him inside. He can only hug you for a second before rushing past you and toward the direction of your room, anxious to see his fiancé. “Don’t fuck on my bed!” you yell after him, loud enough for your cousin to hear.

It’s only a minute later when there’s a knock at the door that makes you jump, shocking you into reality again as you realize that you haven’t moved since inviting Shiu inside. In your stupidity, you look through the peephole and swallow the gasp at Toji’s distorted form.

“I can see your feet. Open the door,” his deep voice cuts, familiar and commanding.

Your fingers curl against the wooden surface of your door, nails scratching lightly along the veneer as you wrestle with the innate temptation to be stubborn. Besides Nanami Kento—another close friend and coworker—Toji is the only man you’ve let talk to you like this. He’s a little bit of an asshole, but beneath his rough exterior lies a tender core that beckons you to peel back the layers like an onion, eager to feel just how soft the bulb is in the center. You’re drawn to him in a way you can’t explain, and it’s a longing that ignites a hunger that you haven’t experienced in a very long time.

With a resigned sigh, you swing the door open to be welcomed by the sight of him, a picture that leaves you momentarily breathless. You swallow the drool that pools instantly in the back of your throat, curl your toes in your sneakers to resist the urge to spring forward and slant your lips against his, and bite the inside of your lip so the twitching on the sides does not turn into a gentle smirk.

“You look good, baby,” his words roll off his tongue effortlessly, his gaze sweeping over you with a knowing intensity. It feels as though he’s studying a heavily guarded masterpiece that he finally has his hands on to steal. He notices every stroke of paint, every blotch that makes you who you are and it’s with a concentration that leaves you dizzy enough to grip the door tighter in your hands.

Though only a week has passed since you last saw him, his presence still grips you with a force that borders on intoxicating. Clad in a black shirt that accentuates his commanding presence, his broad shoulders exude a magnetic strength that summons you, stirring a primal desire to dig your fingernails into him like you did that night in your truck. One of his hands is tucked in a jeaned pocket, the other is behind his back, and jet-black locks brush his cheeks as he chuckles, undoubtedly amused by the dumbfounded stare that you’re still shooting his way. His scar cradles the side of his lips in a seductive curl as he smirks.

God, he’s so—he’s so—

His presence seems to fill the entire room, a tangible force even without crossing the threshold of your home. An urgent ache surges within you, craving the warmth of his embrace, the security of his strength.

“You gonna let me in or just keep your mouth open for the flies?” His voice breaks the reverie in your mind, a well-known blend of annoyance that fills your chest immediately. You’re reminded of how effortlessly irritating he can be, yet there’s a strange allure in his confidence.

At this point, you don’t have a quip loaded up quick enough to shoot back at him. So, you step aside and hold your breath as his large body crosses the threshold of your home.

The last time he was at your door, he barged inside with a barely contained fury and pulled you into an argument that stemmed from your unwillingness to be vulnerable and his lack of expertise in expressing himself. It was a weird song and dance that marked the beginning of something you still don’t fully understand. Now, he’s here with a slightly different demeanor, calm and self-assured as he plants a firm kiss on your cheek as if he’s a hardworking husband returning home just in time for dinner.

You gape at his nonchalance, watching in disbelief as he kicks off his shoes and pulls his hand from behind his back, presenting you a bouquet of flowers in a manner that feels both rushed and sincere. You look down at the flowers, wide-eyed and blinking to make sure the reality you are currently in isn’t actually a simulation.

Daisies.

Not the cheap, wilted blooms you kind of expected from him, but fresh, vibrant flowers. Their white petals gleam softly, each grain of pollen in the yellow center visible in the light of your kitchen. The stems are freshly cut, wrapped in a simple red bow and your chest is fluttering with a severity that unsettles you.

“I didn’t know what kind you liked. And I don’t trust Shiu with an honest answer so…” His words trail off, leaving unspoken sentiments lingering in the air.

 Your lips curl around words that won’t form, and you mentally sort through your book of tricks. It’s a book you’ve spent years filling after countless experiences. Men will do just about anything for pussy. There’s no reason to be shocked at why they do the things they do—they’re all the same.

But even from that first day you met, you have already shuffled through your book when it comes to Toji. Every time you look up whatever trick he tries to pull, you come up with an empty page. There’s never a solution or a pre-written response that you can use. You have no choice but to figure this out on your own and fill in the pages later.

“If you don’t like them, you don’t have to take them,” he cuts into your thoughts, words edged with a trace of embarrassment that he’s trying to cover up with frustration. “Just give them back—” He reaches for the flowers, and you reflexively pull your arms away, much to your own shock at the way your body moves on its own.

“I like them,” you blurt out, your voice not as strong as you want it to be but thankfully steady as the words leave your lips. “They’re very nice, Toji. Thank you.”

He drops his hand, shoves it deep into the pocket of his jeans before clearing his throat and giving you a sharp nod. His eyes take in your face for only a second before they flit away to focus on a random spot in your living room, a hint of blush on his cheeks that makes the fluttering in your chest pick up in speed. It’s a weird feeling that will consume you if you don’t stay in control.

So, you push it down, swallow the pool of saliva in your mouth so it can help the glide, all the way down to the pit of your belly to extinguish the embers that threaten to lick to life. You shuffle past him and into the kitchen to fetch a vase, your mind sorting through the symptoms of various pulmonary diseases to distract yourself from the giddiness of him getting you flowers.

A normal thing. The bare minimum for a man. But it makes you feel great all the same. They aren’t your favorite, not even close, but it’s a gesture that shatters your preconceived notions about Toji that probably shouldn’t be there in the first place.

“What are they?” he asks, face still pink below his eyes that linger on the countertop instead of at you. You untie the bow at the stems and slide the daisies into an antique vase with crystalline ridges, shooting him a questioning raised eyebrow in response. One of his hands gestures wildly to the vase you are filling with water. “Your favorite flowers.”

“Snapdragons.” Toji throws you a quizzical look, his eyebrows pinched together in a clear display of confusion that makes you chuckle. You push the now full vase of flowers to the center of your kitchen countertop, the sight warming your stomach no matter how much you try to stop it. “They aren’t in season, but there’s a vendor here that sells them in the Spring and Fall. Growing up, we lived right next to a river where they would grow. My father would pick them every year and bring them to my mother as a gift. Whenever they wilted, he picked more and replaced them…over and over until they weren’t in season anymore.”

You dig your teeth into the wet flesh of your cheek to stop yourself from rambling, the need to talk more about yourself is at the tip of your tongue. He’s quiet as he takes in your response, eyebrows twitching with fleeting emotion before they smooth out into their usual calm expression. Maybe it’s your eyes playing tricks, but he looks as if he’s locked away your little nugget of information and is ready to move on to the next thing.

More of you.

That gaze is now free of shyness and taking you in, sharp and cutting and rough around the edges, his green irises sliding down to the exposed skin of your thighs, and they must beckon him because he makes his way towards you with a dominating presence that tightens your throat. He walks around the countertop, avoiding the sharp edge from biting into his side and now he’s standing in front of you, looming and dwarfing you without even trying. You catch a whiff of his cheap cologne—a different scent from what you smelled before—but still rich with bergamot undertones that make you more curious than bothered at his frugal mentality.

“Can I kiss you? Or you gonna smack me instead?”

Even though he’s teasing, he displays the growing knowledge of your boundaries and the lengths you will go to protect yourself.

“What, you want to get smacked, Toji?” you retort, lifting an eyebrow at him, your neck tingling from the strain of looking up due to his height. God, he’s such a big man. Big and burly and just enough to overwhelm you in a way that you crave so, so much.

“Nah. I want a kiss,” he confidently responds, blowing away the cloud of lust from around your head.

He’s too close and yet not close enough. He smells too good, looks too good with a voice that’s too deep and melodic for you to ride on logic for a full day, but you need him closer, so much closer and—

Your back brushes against the edge of the kitchen sink, making you tense at the realization that he’s backed you up against it and is looking down at you with that nasty smirk you entertain more than you should.

“You…” you begin, trailing off when one of his muscular arms reaches past you to rest onto the counter on one side, still giving you an escape route even though you’ll take being trapped against him any time of the day. “You already kissed me on the cheek when you walked in without asking me. Don’t be stingy.”

Toji clicks his tongue in disappointment, the sound pushing a rush of electricity down your spine that’s generating too much energy between your legs. He shrugs, broad shoulders pulling up and down, stretching his shirt in the most delicious way. “That’s not enough.”

Although lust is darkening your thoughts slowly despite your resolve, you still have enough common sense to remember the kind of woman you are. You’re someone unwilling to tolerate fuckboy behavior and would rather humiliate a man than give in to temptation that would only embarrass you in the future. You have to stay in control. Just for the rest of the day to measure his intentions with a level head. Even though you feel heavy with lidded eyes, you slip into that second skin of yourself with ease.

“Ask nicely,” you whisper.

He takes the bait—like they always do—and slinks further into your space, his broad and muscular form brushes against your softer one. Your gaze remains indifferent as he asks to kiss you in a sing-song voice that’s borderline annoying and teasing, threatening to make you laugh despite your resistance.

You take in his question with a noncommittal hum and slide a hand up the soft fabric of his chest. The muscles underneath flex and twitch beneath your palm, echoing memories of that unforgettable night when you could slide your fingers on the sweat of his abs as you rode him for all he was worth.

Your hand rests against his cheek, watching as he slowly falls for your trap, inhaling deeply with his lips a mere breath away from yours before you speak calmly and softly.

“No.”

You stroke his cheek in a soothing manner before patting it a little too hard that’s close to a smack, yanking a grunt of frustration from him as he pulls away with an bothered growl. You relish in the sigh of his scar twisting when his face curls with annoyance, his eyes rolling and his arms folding across his chest like a child being denied dessert. You can’t help the laugh that bubbles from your lips, growing in intensity as his eyes narrow at you.

“You’re so damn annoying,” he pouts, and the fact that he truly looks put off for not getting a kiss only makes you laugh harder.

***

The sight and sound of cheering fans excite you, filling you with childhood memories of games with your father. As the four of you make your way through the large parking lot and in the direction of the stadium, you take in the display of emotions that cross Toji’s face as he is immersed in a part of culture unfamiliar to him. The intricacies of American sports are puzzling to Toji, you realize. While you wave excitedly to the fans who are tailgating and grilling food and playing cornhole, he looks on in disbelief. When you explain the concept of tailgating to him, his expression deepens even more. He doesn’t like the hecklers that litter right outside the entrance and try to sell nosebleed tickets twelve times the market price. He thinks porta-pottys are foul as he takes in the long line of people who wait along the side of the large parking lot. You can tell he’s a little overwhelmed, and aggravated by the new things he learns. But he doesn’t complain, content to listen to the three of you as he watches his surroundings.

Despite the array of emotions that engulf him, he keeps you by his side without a second thought. The closer you get to the stadium, the thicker the crowd gets. When you make it through security and begin the long journey up the stone circular walkway of the stadium, Toji wraps a muscular arm around you and rests his hand on your hip in a grip that conveys a protective strength that shoots fluctuating reactions through you.

At first, you think he just wants his hands on you, and you’re prepared to smack his touch away. But then your perception shifts; a random man bumps into you with a sharp elbow into your arm and he turns around with an angry expression ready to yell. The glare that Toji levels at him leaves the man sputtering and apologizing before he slinks back into the crowd.

Normally, you don’t thrive off blatant displays of masculinity, but the sight of the man running away from Toji’s imposing stare makes your stomach fill with a deep-seated lust that surprises you. Like you’re a cavewoman, watching her caveman beat at his chest when another caveman gets too close to you. Toji grumbles to himself about the sheer number of people, his voice tinged with frustration even though his reassuring touch is gentle as he guides you through the throng of people toward your seats.

Thankfully, they aren’t nosebleeds, and they give you a good view of the field, with players already warming up. There is a large group of kids who hang off the rails, squealing in delight as their favorite players come and say hello and sign their jerseys and footballs. The speakers boom with music and commercial ads, the warm air carries the smell of popcorn up your nose, and your blood pumps in excitement.

It has been a while since you attended a football game, distant memories of sitting on your father’s shoulders as you both cheered in the stands. Since his death, you haven’t had the drive nor the time to attend another. So, to be in this position again with a man you are still trying to understand, it’s odd. But it’s not unwelcome and you’re going to enjoy every minute of it. When you watch football at home with your family, you’re a different person. You are loud and unashamed to express your feelings when you watch the games unfold. You stand up and sneer and bark at the officiant who can’t even hear you. You argue with your family about plays and players who will never know you. You love every emotion that the game brings out in you, and you’re unashamed to hide it. Toji is going to see a side of you that will either push him away or make him slink closer for more.

So, when the game begins with the kickoff, you join in the collective screams of the crowd, waving a towel in the air adorned with the yellow and black of your favorite team that is playing.

To your surprise once more, Toji did his homework. He effortlessly explains the rules as you both watch the first quarter together, looking to you for approval to make sure he’s correct. His attentive nature transforms into active participation as he cheers alongside you, his voice deep and booming compared to your screeching.

In the second quarter, there’s an injury on the field and the clash of pads ceases for long enough that fans leave their seats for food and to stretch their legs. Shiu and Rene disappear to get themselves a drink and it’s just you and Toji in the middle of empty seats.

“You’re a screamer,” he teases, his voice low and appreciative as he leans on his thigh with a cheek resting on his fist. His hair flows in the warm air before settling on pale cheeks.

“Too loud for you?” you retort, even if mildly curious about what he thinks of this side of yourself.

Toji purses his lips as he regards you with relaxed eyes. “It didn’t take me long to realize you’re not a dainty little thing. And besides,” A smile stretches across his face, white teeth glinting with a sinister disposition before his lips load with a remark you know will be salacious. “I like my women loud.”

You can be loud if he wants you to be. Preferably in another place besides your car where he can thrust like a man mad between your legs and dig those gleaming white teeth into the skin of your neck—

Oh.

For fuck’s sake. 

Your blood simmers in your veins at the suggestion in his words. His eyes watch your throat when you swallow a thick pool of spit and that smile grows impossibly larger, a Cheshire cat looking at you with nasty intent. He’s too aware of the effect he has on women, and you have to look away from him to resist succumbing to the seductive charm that he wields naturally.

You steer the conversation back into your hands. “You were so curious about me when we first met but I don’t know much about you. Are you here in America for a reason? What do you do for work?”

In your own line of work, observation is key; every subtle cue from your patients holds significance, revealing layers of truths that they usually try to conceal. So, when you notice the tension in Toji’s jaw at your question, the way his features contort subtly, it’s a detail you slot into a drawer of curiosity that takes part of the file cabinet of Toji in your mind.

“I’m a private investigator,” he confesses harshly, catching you off guard. It’s a revelation you don’t anticipate. His imposing features give you the impression of a firefighter or maybe even a cop. Not someone watching others in his car, bugging houses and apartments, and gathering evidence. A PI? You open that drawer of curiosity again and slot away this information as well. He shrugs away the awkwardness that your silence brings, nonchalant and dismissive, avoiding your gaze. “It pays the bills. The hours suck sometimes but…the work is easy.”

“So…naturally I can’t really ask about the things you do?” you don’t hide the inquisitiveness that coats your words.

“It’s nothing glamorous enough to talk about.” And that’s all he offers you in response.

You have a myriad of questions swirling in your mind, each vying for attention from a man who is as tight-lipped as you. How did he even get into this kind of work? Who are his clients? Cheaters, embezzlers…or criminals?

That and so much more brew in your mind, tumbling over the other but ultimately dissipating when you sense his reluctance, evident from his still-averted gaze and tense shoulders.

“What about family? You asked me about mine, but I never got to hear about yours.”

Granted, you only told him about the members of your family who danced in your backyard when you both were wrapped in one another two weeks ago. He doesn’t know about the more intimate parts of your family life. He doesn’t know about your father’s death, or the estrangement of your stepfamily. But that can come later. Toji hasn’t given you enough of himself.

Toji’s features now morph into disdain, souring the air between you. The bright emerald of his eyes dims with a grayish overcast, the liquid of the irises hardening like cooling lava.

His response is terse, laced with palpable displeasure that intensifies the acrid taste in the air. “There isn’t much to tell. I don’t get along with them, and they do their best to not get along with me either.” The timbre of his voice is lower, menacing enough to let you know it’s a subject he won’t entertain. At least for right now.

You open your mouth to speak again, to maybe apologize for making him uncomfortable, to reassure him that you wouldn’t judge him over something like this. He shifts in his seat, clasps his hands together and absentmindedly picks at a callous on the side of his thumb. The pink flush on his cheeks is not one of bashfulness, but of frustration and embarrassment. From the sliver of his eyes you can see, there is something simmering beneath the surface that might take you a while to unveil.

 “I do have a son, though.” The sentence shoots into the air and down your spine with a chilling clarity, breaking the flow of your thoughts as you blink in astonishment.

Pardon???

Considering he’s a grown man a few years older than you, it’s understandable. But the notion of him being a father never crossed your mind. The concept of children isn’t foreign to you; you see and take care of them every day. It’s the concept of children coming from him that’s a new development you have to consider.

While you believe you can handle a relationship with a single father, you’re upset at being told now, rather than before.

“You were with me all day two weeks ago and you never took the time to mention you have a son?”

You don’t hide your irritation. Once your trust is lost, it’s almost impossible to regain. Why would you give away sacred pieces of yourself to a man you wouldn’t trust to hold those pieces with care?

Despite your frustration, you rationalize.

Maybe Toji was nervous to bring it up? Some people may like to ease into such topics. This relationship, or whatever this is, is brand new and smooth. There haven’t been any cracks caused by arguments or behavior that is damaging.

But this isn’t about having a job that he’s not proud of or admitting that he is not financially responsible. This is about an entire child, a facet of his life that he cannot hide away. How long would he have waited to tell you if the topic of family hadn’t come up so soon? Would he have told you? Would he hide his son away and push him off to a babysitter on date nights so you are never aware? Would he sleep over at your house, so you can’t see the room that’s decorated for a child or the toys scattered about the floor?

As you wrestle with the growing anxiety that crawls across your skin, Toji fumbles for something in his pocket, his face a satisfying beet red as you watch him hand you his open phone. Bright from the illumination of the screen, you take in a picture of a young boy who bears a striking resemblance to Toji. His raven locks spiky and disheveled, his green eyes sharp and ethereal, and he wears a bored and calm expression just like his father. The chubbiness of his cheeks and innocence in his eyes tug at something in your chest; he can’t be any older than six years old. The sight of the boy makes you think of the many kids you take care of every day, and some of the frustration subsides within you.

“His name is Megumi,” he informs you, shy despite his rough exterior. He picks at the callous on the side of his thumb again, and one of his legs begins to shake in place.

The frustration dies down more. It’s a beautiful name, and as you look at the picture, a small smile tugs at your lips. You wonder what kind of a boy he is.

“Fuck listen—just I-I’m shit at this.”

You look up at him and take in the apprehension on his face. His lips are downturned in a gentle frown, the scar on the side of his face warped along with the muscles of his mouth. There’s a sense of shame in his gaze, and it somehow makes you feel relieved to know that he can feel just how upset you are.

“I don’t date women…I fuck them and stay around until they want me gone.” He doesn’t bother to sugarcoat his words. They shoot out of his mouth, piercing your skin with their directness. It’s a little painful, and you struggle to absorb his blatant honesty, feeling flashes of anger and indignation fill your chest as your lips part, ready to respond with directness of your own. “But you’re the first woman in a long fucking time that’s made me want more. So just…” he trails off, stuttering over what to say before ultimately growling low in his throat into silence.

You hesitate, lips flinching and syllables of fury dissipating in the small space between your top and bottom lip. “You gonna let me meet him?” you snap because you’re still mildly irritated as you give him his phone and pinch the muscle of his bicep with a harshness that reflects your fading anger and your desire to see him squirm for his actions.

He swats your hand away as if you’re a pest, moving his arm from you with a sneer that holds no malice. “No let me just lock him in my closet every time I want to see you—of course, I’ll fucking let you meet him.”

You throw him a withering glare, ignoring his sarcasm, and the smirk that slides onto his lips only makes you want to either smack or kiss him. The fact that you can’t decide on which only annoys you more.

*** Toji ***

“Gimme two hot dogs and a pretzel,” Toji mutters to the concession stand attendant. It’s halftime, and the walkways behind the stands are crowded with fans hurrying to go to the bathroom, or for more food and alcohol. You stand close to him, a welcome warmth that he wants more of but refuses to ask for on the off chance you deny him. He doesn’t feel like pouting for the rest of the day.

“And what’ll it be for the lady?” the attendant asks with a level of humor that is off-putting, a smile on his face that Toji knows you itch to smack off.

“It is for the lady,” you correct, a hint of condescension falling from plush lips that you still won’t let him taste. The attendant sputters, his face red as a tomato as he takes the rest of Toji’s order, doing his best to ignore the deadly glare you shoot him as he counts Toji’s money. A snort rattles from Toji’s chest as he watches you. He’s known from the beginning that you’re fiery, but seeing it firsthand fascinates and arouses him at the same time.

This environment is different for him, odd in every way, and a foreign ground that he’s unsteady on. The celebratory atmosphere reminds him of the loud laughter and fireworks from festivals that he could hear outside the Zenin compound throughout the year. He thinks of the Tanabata festivals he never got to experience or the years of Hanami that he was forbidden to enjoy. He could only take a small bit of pleasure in cherry blossoms in the Zenin gardens, blooming and scattering their petals on the well-kept grass to mark the beginning of the season. As a child, he was never allowed much. He was seen as ‘inferior trash’ that was insignificant and unworthy to be looked at let alone talked to unless it was to yell or belittle. Naturally, his family didn’t want others to see where said trash came from if they could help it.

He can’t think about it right now—he won’t. The thought of his family brings a tight coil of pain and anger in his chest, a coil he had used as fuel to cope with his dangerous decisions.

There’s so much more that he needs to focus on, like the fact that you’ve already taken a big bite out of one of your hot dogs. Half of it has disappeared from your hand, and there’s ketchup on the edge of your mouth as you chew. He notices the way you shift your hips from side to side in your seat, and the satisfied hum that escapes your throat. You’re satisfied, and while you eat with manners, you don’t hide your boisterous enjoyment, finishing one hot dog and moving on to the next, your pretzel wedged between the meat of your seductive thighs.

He’s been trying to be respectful all day ever since you denied him a kiss in the kitchen, but you’re tempting him. When you answered the door earlier in the afternoon, the hand that was in his pocket pinched the side of his thigh until the shameless thoughts could fade away.

You’ve graced his presence with shorts and a jersey, a yellow and black number that lays against your chocolate skin in a way that still seems to make you glow in the setting sun. No braids this time, your natural curls have fallen from your bun after screaming so much, framing your face and causing your gold hoops to wink at him. You didn’t wear makeup that night when he met you, so the sight of eyeliner on you today, and the way it accentuates the curve of your eye and the heaviness of your long lashes, it makes him shift in his seat.

He’s had to clench his jaw and bear the pain of his teeth grinding against each other to stop himself from ogling at the mouth-watering canvas of your legs. You’re all curves with dimples at the bottom of your thighs when you sit, and his gums ache to sink into the flesh so you can squeal and beg for him to touch you where you want it most. It’s been weeks since that night and he’s feigning for more. When you smile at him or shoot him a glare, it reminds him of that commanding aura you had in the backseat of your truck, and the back of his neck prickles with sweat.

While the thought of you skinning him alive if he decides to be a Neanderthal turns him on, he wants to be civil. In your kitchen earlier today, you allowed him to get close enough to feel the heat radiating from your skin, to catch the scent of coconut from your curls, tantalizing his senses until your firm ‘no’ sobered him up immediately. It was a stark reminder of who you are, and how little you tolerate.

He'll behave.

His eyes catch you guzzling down five heaping gulps of your beer, the foam coating your upper lip. You wipe it away with your finger, sucking the digit into your mouth, and popping it out completely oblivious to how sinful you look and Toji’s catapulted into that day when you sucked your own cum off his fingers.

He has to behave.

The vibration of his phone in his pocket sours his mood immediately, turning his gaze from your form as he digs into his pocket. It’s the third time it’s buzzed today, and he knows who it is. No matter how hard he tries to ignore it, he can only put off his job for so long.

Unknown: Good job on the assignment last week. 

Unknown: Your pay should be in your account by tonight.

Unknown: There’s another contract for you if you’re interested. Message me back and I’ll send you details.

“Everything okay?” Your voice pulls him from his phone, and he meets your curious gaze, one of your elegant eyebrows lifting in question as you assess him. “Something with work?”

“Yea,” he replies and regrets it immediately.

Lie #1

It’s not a complete lie—it is work—but the details…

Toji takes a long swig of his beer, attempting to soothe the shame that washes over him.

You really are a screamer.

Toji sits back in his seat, watching you with a wicked smile as you unleash a torrent of colorful language that makes his cock twitch. Even though you roar with the crowd, your voice rises higher.

“That’s a fucking flag! I should come down there and officiate for you instead you stupid piece of shit!”

Your curls brush the skin of your cheeks that puff in your frustration, your arms folding across your chest as you cock your hip and growl beneath your breath. You’re easily the loudest one in this section of the stands. Rene revels in it, egging you on by rooting for the opposite team and giggling when you bark at her. Shiu is content to watch the display, a fresh toothpick in his mouth and an arm over Rene’s shoulders as he idly twirls a lock of hair at her nape. You’re all yelling and sputtering indignation as you watch the game unfold, your team losing by what Toji has learned is a touchdown.

He knew this side of you was there. He could tell in the weight of your gaze that night. It's a side of you that he did not expect to see so soon. He soaks it in. He takes in the way you cuss out the man three rows down who won’t stop glaring at you. He absorbs how high-pitched the screech of your voice makes his eardrums shake, and he revels in the smile that forms on your lips when your team scores the game-winning touchdown.

When there are lulls in the game, you tell him about your career. You’re a pulmonary pediatric fellow at a hospital here in town that’s only a year and a half from completing your fellowship. You smile when you talk about the kids you take care of and your associates at work. You’re proud of your research and of how far you’ve come.

All of it, every part of you that you show him, is comforting. Warm despite how cold you appear. It’s a comfort he didn’t imagine having…ever in his life—especially a dreary life like his. But he soaks up this—you—as much as he can.

When the game is over, you’re elated and giggling, tucked into his side as he guides you through the drunken crowd. The moon is high in the sky, and it bathes your skin and makes you stand out in the crowd. You look up at him, smiling softly with a buzzed gaze that’s two beers deep.

“Did you have fun? Not bad for your first American game?”

“You screamed the entire time,” he teases, chuckling at the way you gape up at him and then sneer before turning away. He throws his arm around your shoulders, using the touch as a safe territory to keep his hands to himself, and pulls you closer.

You demand cotton candy which he indulges in as well before you both part ways with Rene and Shiu. The journey back to your apartment is a quiet one. As Toji drives, the warm July air fills the car, mingling with the faint strains of classic rock playing on the radio. Toji watches with flickering glances as you hum along, your eyes closed and the breeze wafting through your curls loose around your shoulders.

Something inside of him rattles. Whatever it is, it’s long-forgotten and buried deep within him, surrounded by cobwebs and dust that have accumulated over time since that dark day years ago.

*** You ***

From the short journey of his car to inside of your apartment, you repeat to yourself that you have to take this slow, for your own peace of mind.

You keep the most intimate parts of yourself locked away and only those who are worthy of you have a copy of the key. But somehow, and in such a short time, Toji has stolen a copy for himself and slotted the key into the door. But thankfully, the door is caught against the wall, hinges rusted over and ungiving.

You have to know more about him before you let him in to look at those parts of you. If you jump the gun and give him more so soon and end up hurt, it will throw you into a depth of pain that you promised yourself to never touch again if you could help it.

“You have a good time?”

Toji’s voice breaks the silence, his arms folding tightly across his chest, betraying the restlessness in his hands. His messy black locks, tousled by the late July humidity, partially hide his emerald gaze, which flickers briefly to meet your own before darting away.

Your socked feet pad across the hardwood floor, closing the space between you, and your head slowly tilts to look at him. Despite his façade of composure, his scar curves against his lips in a slight twist, twitching as he tries not to frown. Thin eyebrows pitch down in frustration, and you catch the way his fingertips drum against the skin of his biceps. He’s fidgety—nervous. Is he upset with himself? Ashamed that he couldn’t take you out on a proper date with dinner and a movie like everyone else expects?

Hopefully, he will learn that you go against the grain of proper in so many ways.

“I had a great time,” you confess softly, noticing the subtle relaxation in his stance at your words. The thrumming of his fingers stop, the tension in his shoulder fades. “You wanted to take me out and I let you. That all you want from me?”

He’s such an expressive man.

His face twists, perturbed by your bluntness and the prospect of delving into emotional territory. “I told you already that I want more.”

His declaration sends a fluttering through your heart that is reminiscent of the feeling you had when he surprised you with a slice of yellow cake. It’s comforting, and you want to lean into it. But it’s not enough to overwhelm you. You’re still in your right mind and still aware of your expectations even though he captivates you.

You press your finger into the firmness of his chest, hard so that the muscle pillows around your digit. The gaze you shoot up at him is unyielding, serious, and menacing enough that he straightens his spine just a little.

“Listen to me, because I’m only going to say this one more time. I don’t do situationships. I don’t do friends with benefits or the occasional hookup. I’m not saying things need to be serious with us but…you need to show me that you mean it.”

As you speak, you assess Toji, who shows no signs of amusement or ignorance. His posture is rigid, his back ramrod straight, and his deep green gaze locked onto yours.

“That night we had was great. I won’t deny that but…I won’t compromise my expectations and I don’t tolerate bullshit. I’m not going to let you fuck me just because we did it before. You want more? I want you to try. Earn me.”

You relish in the way his eyes widen, contemplating your words and the severity beneath them before his face smooths back into its usual cool demeanor. He unfolds his arms from his chest, and you curse inwardly at the way you immediately watch his shirt stretch across defined pectorals.

“You know you’re a feisty little thing.”

Heat from the way he speaks and annoyance at his lack of attention flare within you like wildfire. You open your mouth to yell, to bark at him to be serious, but the sound of his laughter extinguishes that fire inside of you instantly.

He doesn’t offer an apology for his comment and you don’t need one. You know you’re feisty and steadfast. It’s the only way you can function around men to survive, to stay afloat and still have a grasp of who you are. And if Toji couldn’t handle it, you definitely wouldn’t have slept with him or entertained a date that you thoroughly enjoyed.

“I’ll try,” he finally offers, voice soft but filled with conviction. Normally the small remark would offend you, but surprisingly coming from Toji, it’s enough.

Observing his behavior today and a little bit two weeks ago, you note his acceptance of your quirks and individuality—at least the bits you allow him to see. He marveled at the amount of food you ate and joined alongside you. He let you babble to him about every single player on your favorite team and how many championships they had won. He let you display your strength in your voice and personality, didn’t try to control or overshadow you like so many other past experiences you’ve had before learning how to rule the men in your life.

He let you be yourself.

And that thought makes you finally open your mouth to give him something he had asked for earlier, something you had previously denied despite your own desires.

“You can have your kiss,” you offer with a shrug, feigning nonchalance even though your heart picks up in speed as the implication registers on his face. “So you better do it right.”

It’s an invitation that he snatches away from your imaginary hands and tears open with thick fingers, greedy and growling with finality.

His sharp gaze traces the contours of your body, unabashed in its appraisal, leering at the pieces of skin visible to him. You know he’s been looking at you all day, but his observation now is intense, heavy and without reservation and you’re fumbling from the sudden rush of longing that pumps hot through your veins.

Toji inches closer, your hands instinctively find their way to his chest, his towering presence overwhelming your small stature. His height ignites an evolutionary desire in you that makes your mouth water, makes your cunt pulse with need beckoning for him to fill the mold he left inside two weeks ago. You’re still not used to climbing up the summit of him, so the air is thin once more, pulling the oxygen from your lungs and stuttering in your chest when a large hand cups the side of your neck and tilts your face up to him like an offering.

When his lips slide against yours, your fingers in his shirt tighten. His touch singes the ends of your nerves, boils the blood in your veins that pump fast throughout your body. Your skin is burning, searing when muscular arms hoist you up and wrap your legs around his thick waist before your ass is sliding on the cold marble of your kitchen counter, your lips still sealed against his.

There’s so much of this that feels like that night at your uncle’s. So much and yet not enough.

He drowns you with his touch, digs his fingers into the plump flesh of your thighs before yanking you, hard and with unforgiving impatience, closer to his body. The fabric of your jeans rubs too harsh against your wet panties, digs against the sensitivity of your clit and you repress the insatiable yearning to roll your hips against his.

Toji’s large hands slide up your body, traversing the mesh of your jersey that hugs you before cupping each side of your face again to tilt you sharper in the way he wants. Blue raspberry from the cotton candy you both indulged in after the game coats his tongue that licks your bottom lip in a silent request for entrance, and you grant him access, surrendering a whimper into his mouth as his tongue slides sinfully against yours. Tastebuds kiss your own, slide against them with whispered promise of satisfaction if you just relax and melt further into him. Just a little.

But you can’t, god you can’t.

You’re losing control and you have to stay strong. You have to stay above the waters of logical thinking even though you’re sinking with every stroke of his tongue, with every sweet, hot breath into your mouth, with every inch of flesh that your fingers dig into his chest because you need more. More than a kiss, more than what he’s offering, and you know he can give it to you. Toji can pull you into the inferno he’s raging inside of your body until your clothes are scorched off and his skin is sliding against yours sweaty, sticky, and undulating with every roll of his hips.

But he doesn’t give you more. He doesn’t pull you further into that fire.

The intensity of his kiss dies down slowly, his lips pulling away from yours with a wet smack as you pant along with him. Toji kisses your lips once, then twice, nips your bottom lip to seal everything he’s given before smirking down at you. Too devilish and arrogant and you don’t have a working brain cell in your head right now to correct him. His hands that cradle your cheeks slide down to your upper arms, giving them a gentle squeeze before he speaks.

“You still gonna let me be nice to you?”

His words are an echo of that night, his own way of telling you that he’s here. That he wants more—that he wants to give you more. You just have to let him.

With your head still swimming and the pulsing between your legs refusing to calm, you want him to be more than nice right now. But remembering the boundaries you have set, you nod instead and sigh into him when he kisses you one last time, sweeping his blue raspberry-flavored tongue against yours before pulling away, acting as though it’s nothing, as though you’re not sweaty at the small of your back and trembling with desire.

“Lock the door for me,” he commands, words devoid of a questioning tone, but filled with a sense of security and protection that you lean into.

“O-okay,” you manage to breathe, your heart slowing back into sinus rhythm, only to jump again as he places one final kiss on your lips, then your nose. You frantically bat him away before you lose consciousness, because any more and you’ll drag him into your room and disregard everything you said five minutes ago.

 You watch him saunter away, pull his keys from his pocket, and twirl them in his hand before winking. “I’ll text you.”

It sounds so ridiculous coming from his lips, from a grown man who looks as if he doesn’t even know what a cellphone is, let alone a text message.

But it still makes your heart jump all the same.

You can only nod in response because your throat is too dry and heavy in the back of your throat with each swallow you take. You follow him to the door and roll your eyes at his annoying smirk before he closes the door behind him, casting your apartment into silence.

Your fingers wobble as they turn the locks of your door into place. You’re lightheaded, brain flitting through salacious memories of what you both did weeks ago and what you could easily be doing now.

You throw your back against the door and sag to the floor with an annoyed sigh.

*** Toji ***

Unknown: There’s another contract for you if you’re interested. Message me back and I’ll send you details.

Toji: I’m interested. Send me what you have.

#toji fushiguro #toji fushiguro x reader #Toji Fushiguro x black reader #toji fushiguro x black fem reader #toji x you #toji fushiguro x y/n #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jjk x black reader #black fem reader #black reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #mysteria157 #masterlist #anime x black reader #Toji Fushiguro fanfic #jjk fanfic #toji fushiguro smut #toji fushiguro fluff #toji zenin #fushiguro toji #jjk toji #toji fanfic #toji smut #toji x reader #toji jjk #jujutsu toji #soft toji #jjk au #In Too Deep

[jasmines-library]

Hi! I think you said that you would write for Cassandra? If you don’t it’s fine and feel free to ignore this <3

I used he/him pronouns but if you don’t do male readers you can make it gn! :)

Here we go.. So the reader is 12 and younger than the rest of the family. He is a child weapon like cass and Damian. Actually he is Cassandra’s little brother, he was made solely on defeating Cassandra after she escaped. He also has electricity powers and is as much as good of a fighter like Cassandra. So he is sent on a mission to destroy or eliminate Cassandra or another family member but the batfamily stops him. Somehow they knock him out after a hard fight and put him in a. Cell or somethin. They find out he is Cassandra’s bio little brother and are determined to help him. So they talk to him when he wakes up or something and cassandra is like really clingy and protective of him so he reluctantly stays.

If you can, can you show some snippets or short story of his interactions with others and how he is adjusting to his new life in the manor, (he also gets to be a vigilante along side them.)

BROTHER MINE

Summary: Male Reader is a child weapon with electricity powers, created with the intent to kill Cassandra after she escaped, though when he tried to take her down and he gets caught he ends up with much more than he bargained for.

Warnings: Kinda child abuse? (It's a child assassin), violence. Nothing explicit or graphic

Word count: 2.1K

⛤ BATFAM MASTERLIST ⛤

Cassandra Cain was the sole reason for your existence. Almost as soon as she left you were dragged away from your mother kicking and screaming to begin your training. Sandra feared it would happen at some point. Cain had taken her daughter, it was only in due time until he would take her son. 

Although you were older than Cass when she began her training, they still made you ruthless. They pushed you until your legs were trembling and the only thing that crossed your mind was the art of assassination. You didn’t speak anymore. It was forbidden. This meant that the parts of your brain normally used for speech were trained so you could read your opponents movements to predict their next move in a fight. You remember your mother telling you once that they did that to Cassandra too. It was one of the only things you did remember from what little of your childhood you had before it was ripped away from you. Your training was not much different from your older sisters, though your father had made one thing clear. In order to beat her you had to be better than her. So he pushed you further than he had ever pushed anyone before until something in your brain began to change and you discovered a newfound ability to manipulate electricity. They had made you into the perfect tool; smart and powerful but submissive to the right people. You were a weapon with one mission. Kill Cassandra Cain. 

You roamed the streets of Gotham, mask pulled over your face. Your time had finally come. After years of waiting your father finally found an opening on Cassandra and had sent you into the city to meet her. You had been warned that she was with Gotham’s infamous vigilantes and you had deemed it a welcoming challenge. As you walked, boots scuffling along the floor, you couldn’t help but feel that there was something so utterly wrong about this. You had pursued your sister before without a second thought, but now as you grew older and more wise about your actions a part of you buried deep within your teachings couldn’t help but feel as though you were doing the wrong thing. But you dismissed the thought very quickly, honing in on your surroundings as your training kicked in. 

You could see them now. The five of them perched on a rooftop, just above a bright billboard advertising an expensive brand of clothing. The two eldest seemed to be keeping a watchful eye over the city, even from down on the street you could see the way their heads turned and their bodies tensed up when they thought they saw something. The other two boys seemed to be having a scuffle behind them as they jested between each other. And then there was Cassandra, donning her black and yellow suit. She surveyed silently, leaning against the brick wall of the entrance to the building’s exit staircase. She was on edge, and rightly so. 

You moved silently through the building and up the stairs as though you weighed nothing more than a feather. You hugged the walls, moving swiftly to avoid being detected by any of the blinking red sensors and alarms. It was child's play really; something you could do in your sleep. 

The door to the rooftop was locked when you tried to ease it open gently, so you brought up a spark of electricity to your fingers to fry the circuit so that you could then open the door and slink onto the rooftop without anyone noticing. 

The youngest two vigilantes had since stopped their bickering and were now also surveying the skyline, but your dear sister still hadn’t sifted from where she was before you entered the building.Perfect. 

Moving silently and agilely you ran towards Cassandra and grabbed her roughly from behind. She went down with a cry of alarm but was quickly moving again, flipping you off of her before you even had the chance to think about conjuring up electricity. Her shout had alerted the other four, who quickly came rushing to her aid, weapons readdied as they charged towards you. Nightwing swung his escrima sticks at you, they crackled but you caught them one handed and sent him staggering back so you could move for the next attack. Despite the fact that you were heavily outnumbered, you managed to hold your ground extremely well by maximising your small frame and use of training to slip around them and send them to the ground. The heroes were well trained too though, and the scuffle was tiring for all of you. 

With a flick of your hand, you sent Robin flying across the roof skidding to a stop when he hit the brick wall. Finally you had managed to get rid of the obstacles in your way and could focus entirely on your sister. You turned, manoeuvring your body to land a kick to her chest but she ducked and rolled out of the way before trying to grab your ankle and pull you down to the ground. The two of you fought intensely, neither of you making much progress besides landing the odd lucky punch here and there because you were both able to predict each other's next move. Though eventually, you managed to make a false move and grip her wrists which allowed you to flip her over your body. Once you had her pinned underneath you, you began to conjure up the strength to finish your mission, but something stopped you. She looked up at you with wide eyes, one word slipping from her chapped lips.

“Y/N?”

You froze. 

At some point during your fight with her, your mask had fallen from your face without you noticing, and now she could see exactly who you were. And now your name had fallen from her lips accompanied by that look of recognition, you were stuck still. And one moment of distraction was all it took for one of the other vigilantes to regain their senses and land a heavy blow to the back of your head. 

~

Cass was quiet. More quiet than usual as she sat on the other side of the cell, peering at you from the other side of the bars. There were a million things running through her head all at once and she was struggling to process them. You were alive. You were an assassin. You had tried to kill her. It was a lot to handle. Dick seemed to notice as he glanced up at her from the computer. 

“You okay, Cass?” He frowned, worried for a moment that she was injured more than she let on, but Alfred had checked the five of them over and assured that everyone had escaped with nothing more than a few scrapes and bruises. 

She nodded, biting the inside of her cheek as she thought. Dick made his way over to her, sliding down on the bench and eyeing you up. You were still unconscious, Tim had hit you hard with his staff. 

“He’s not gonna get you, Cass.”

“No.” She shook her head, fiddling with her hands in her lap and completely avoiding his gaze. “It’s not that.”

“Then what is it?”

“He’s my brother.”

Dick had to stop his jaw from dropping completely. “What?”

“I-I thought he was dead. They told me he was dead and now he’s…this is my fault.”

“Slow down.” He told her as the others had started to approach. 

“What’s going on?” Damian asked.

“When I was still living with my father…sometimes my mother would stop by. She seemed cruel too, but she had this tenderness. She knew I was just a child. I suppose I was too young to remember everything, but I remember her telling me stories of a little boy. My brother. Y/N.” She gestured to you. “My father wasn’t supposed to know. Whenever she stopped by she would show me pictures of him and tell me how no matter what happened I must keep him a secret…but I guess my father knew because now he is just like me.”

“Oh, Cass…” Someone placed a hand on her shoulder. 

“A few nights after I escaped, I stopped by my mothers house in hopes of at least seeing him. But he was gone. And instead I found my mother clutching a bloody sheet. I assumed he was dead. But this is so much worse.”

“We can fix this, Cass. We helped you, we can help him.” Dick told her. He understood that what you did wasn’t your fault and that you were just a scared little boy following orders.

She hummed, watching as you stirred before snapping upright on high alert from the moment you woke up. 

You were confused for a moment when you awoke on a small cot in the corner of a cell, but then it all came flooding back to you. You almost immediately noticed the power suppressing cuffs on your wrists and secure bars on the wall. Cursing, you noticed the group of people eyeing you from the other side of the room and instead of staring daggers silently at them like you were taught to do, you began to break down.

The hot, thick tears that cascaded down your face were alien to you but you made no move to stop them from falling. Cassandra furrowed her brow at your demeanour as she had fully anticipated an aggressive reaction.

“s-sorry…” You rasped out. Your voice was so hoarse from not using it for so long you were surprised that you even remembered how to talk, even if your sentences lacked half of the words they needed. “They m-made…”

Cassandra moved closer towards you, ignoring the protests that Jason made. She crouched down near you and studied you. 

“I thought you were dead.” She whispered. 

You recoiled slightly, surprised that she even knew you existed. You shook your head meekly, interacting tenderly with her and going against everything you had known, but despite that it felt so right.

“Oh…Y/N. I’m so sorry this happened to you.”

“N-Not fault.” You stuttered back. 

“But it is-” She protested. 

“No.”

When one of the other boys approached the cell, you moved back hesitantly. 

“It’s okay.” Cass told you. “You can trust them.”

“We can help you.” Tim said. “If you’ll let us?”

“ c-can’t stay. Father-”

“He won’t know you’re here.” Dick told you. “We’ve kept Cass safe, we can do the same to you too.”

“Please, brother…” Cassandra insisted “Let me make this up to you.”

After pondering a moment, you reluctantly nodded. “Okay.”

BONUS:

Inspired by this image:

Cassandra had not seen you all day and as much as she didn’t want to admit it, she was getting worried. When she returned from patrol, she had peered into the room that Bruce had given you, only to find it empty. She then checked in the cave to see if you were there, but all she found was a weary Tim and Jason who had been sparring. She asked around, but neither of them had seen you either. 

She was on the verge of panicking as she made her way back to your room to double check, when she heard chatter coming from Damian’s room. It spilled underneath the door with the light into the hallway. She knocked before pushing it open to a most peculiar sight. 

You were sprawled out beside Damian on his bed, with a book in hand. He guided your finger across the page as you read, helping you as you tried to decipher the words on the page.

“I-It…vuh? Vuh…Vuh-uss? It vuss? No.” You shook your head, screwing your face up as you scanned the page. Damian sat patiently beside you. “Was!” You grinned. “It was!” 

“Yes! Well done.” Damian smiled slightly. “keep going.”

“What are you doing?” Cass interrupted, making the two of you jump. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere.”

“Sorry…” You muttered. “Damian teach me to read.”

Cassandra raised a brow. “The demon spawn is doing something nice for once?”

“Tt. No.” 

“Sure looks like it.”

“No. No. it’s for everyone’s benefit. How is he supposed to become a vigilante if he can’t read? Hmm? He needed to learn, so I decided to teach him. No one else was going to do it.”

“Are you sure it’s not because you just wanted to do something nice for once?”

Damian’s cheeks flushed. “No. Of course not.”

Cassandra shook her head. “Keep telling yourself that, Dames.”

#writing #batfam x reader #batfam x brother reader #batfam x little brother reader #cassandra cain #Cassandra cain x reader #dick grayson x reader #dick Grayson #dick Grayson x brother reader #Tim drake #Tim drake x Reader #Damian Wayne #Damian Wayne x Reader #Jason Todd #Jason Todd x Reader #nightwing #nightwing x reader #red hood #red hood x reader #Robin #Robin x Reader #red Robin x reader #red Robin #fluff #found family

[hauntedtotem]

Doppelgangers mimic, it's in their blood, their instincts. They observe and copy, they peak into the lives of the unsuspecting and devour what they can, in every sense of the word.

It's necessary for their survival, to learn every detail of ones features. The better evolved members of their kind learn to perfectly imitate speech patterns and body language as well, leaving nothing out. Perfection is key, and a deep intricate understanding of their prey is what they strive for.

They pride themselves on their ability to reflect humanities ego back at them.

Some understand too well, and look deeper than what's necessary. Their human-counterparts oft hold secrets buried within, secrets they show no one, and yet the doppelgangers that select them seem to enjoy shouting such things out into the world for all to see.

Showing off what they've found, what was previously being hidden away from public eye.

A pilot who's mind races with endless possibilities and visions of death, who's witnessed carnage both of reality and illusion. Behind a stone faced facade and obscuring shades, paranoia clutches the mind and eyes dart nervously towards every shadow. The constant nagging of adrenaline and panic being held trapped behind an un-moving mask. An all consuming mind, seeing danger at every corner, only ever knowing peace while in the emptiness of the skies.

A woman who wills herself to be blind to her harsh reality. Portraying herself with an energetic and bubbly attitude, while miserable inside, refusing to speak of her past. Silencing herself for the sake of her and her daughter. Pretending she doesn't see that her daughter looks nothing like her ex husband, pretending she doesn't see the resemblance to her neighborhood milkman. Staying quiet, eyes and lips sealed shut. Keeping her secret away from even herself.

An uncaring, boring man to the public eye, who secretly relishes in the silent chaos he's caused for numerous marriages. Going about his day, hiding his sadistic smile behind a mundane lifestyle and tired eyes. Knowing the effect he has on unsuspecting and lonely housewives, it does wonders for his ego. He keeps it inside, not showing his twisted delight for home-wrecking.

It goes on, many doppelgangers seeing people's true colors and proudly putting them on display.

A miserable seamstress, a model with an fake smile and endless hunger for fame, a reporter melting under the pressure of his journalism- having to do stories on these monsters day in and day out, exposed to endless horrors.

Many may look at these mimics, call them lazy, say they don't understand what a real human looks like. But they know better than anyone what's in your heart, their depiction more accurate than those only portraying what's on the surface level.

A button is pressed, the curtains fall, and their performance is done as a siren mocks the sound of applause.

#Tnmn #thats not my neighbor #Francis mosses #nacha mikaelys #that's not my neighbor #steven rudboys #Ficlet #Tnmn fanfic #Headcanons #Nacha is divorced but not to francis- he's just a homewrecker #Also Steven has undiagnosed schizophrenia that he can't tell anyone about because he'll be discharged from the military #This started as a shit post and was going to end with peaches guy but I ended up liking it too much

[ellebakers]

☆ Jealous boy | Part two (+18)

Ethan Landry x reader

Warnings : Mention of sex, blood, death, killing, language..

tag list : @iloveneilperry

PART ONE

"Y/n ?"

Samantha's voice grew more distant as you looked at your reflection in the mirror. Ethan Landry, your best friend, the man you gave yourself to last night after finding out your boyfriend was cheating on you, hugging you, hands full of blood, the blood of Chad and Tara. He had an evil grin, and the ghostface outfit was dangling right in front of you.

Shocked, you dropped your phone to the floor. “Now it’s just you and me my love.”

You felt fear wash over you as he buried his face in your neck. "Let go of me."

Your voice was shaky, making Ethan laugh.

“What was that baby ?”

Seeing him laugh in the face of your fear awakened the anger in you, you struggled and spoke in a more ferocious voice.

"I said. Let go of me !"

You managed to get out of his arms and backed up to the sink to face him. “Shh, calm down sweetheart.”

“I’m not your sweetheart.”

Ethan laughed again. “That’s not what you said when I fucked you last night.”

Tears of fear and anger ran down your cheeks. "Fuck you."

Ethan looked at you, amused, he closed the door behind him and locked it. Fear took over realizing that your only exit had just closed, but you decided not to show anything. “You’re the fucking killer.”

The boy rolled his eyes. "Good point Sherlock."

You shook your head. "Fuck… Why ?"

Ethan opened his mouth to answer but your phone started ringing, you simultaneously looked at the phone as the photo and Sam's came up, a sigh of relief passed your lips but Ethan was quick and grabbed your phone, a threatening tone he passed to you.

“One word and I’ll kill you.”

He picked up and put it on speakerphone.

"Y/n ?! Are you okay ?"

You looked at Ethan who was threatening you with his gaze.

"I'm fine, do they know who did this ?"

"I don’t know. No masks were put in the apartment . Kirby thinks Ghostface acted without thinking, their deaths weren't planned."

You were looking for a way to alert Sam without Ethan realizing it, suddenly something came to your mind. "I feel like I'm reliving Woodsboro, it's like Amber stabbed me again."

Sam was silent for a moment and she took a deep breath. "I understand. I have to hang up, please be careful."

Once he hung up, Ethan sighed and took the knife he had hidden in his jeans, and pointed it at your chest.

"You know, I really love you. I told my dad and my sister to leave you alone, I managed to convince them that you wouldn't be a problem, but I realize that you will be."

You frown. "Your father and your sister ? What the hell are you talking about."

“Quinn and Bailey. ” Your jaw dropped in shock. An evil smile appeared on his face.

"You didn't expect that, did you? And yes, it's my family. Ethan Landry is not my real name, and you want to know something else?"

He came closer to you and lightly pressed on the scar that Richie had given you last year, on your chest. This scar hurt more than the others because if he had planted his blade two millimeters to the left, you would have died.

"My brother is the one who left you that scar."

Your heart stopped for a moment as you relived the pain he had caused you, as your scar split open under Ethan's touch.

"Yes sweetie, it hurts, I know. You, that whore Sam and all the others are going to die for what you did to my big brother."

You met his gaze and saw nothing but disgust. "I really loved you, but I realize that my father was right, you are as responsible as the others."

Something lit up inside you. Hatred.

“You want to know what I heard ?”

He scoffed. "Tell me."

"I heard your brother was impotent."

Ethan smoked. "Shut up."

"I also know he was a piece of shit who let his girlfriend do all the killing."

"Shut your fucking mouth !"

He raised his knife to stab you but you were faster and kicked him in the stomach with your foot, he backed away coughing. You grabbed his head and slammed him against the wall, knocking him down and disoriented.

You take this opportunity to unlock the door and get out of the bathroom, he gets up and runs after you. Once out of the room you rushed into the hallway and pressed the call button for the elevator, but it was too slow and Ethan was coming quickly, you took the first door and ran down the stairs as quickly as possible.

"Where do you think you're going bitch ?"

The descent to the ground floor seemed long to you as he got dangerously closer. Once you arrived downstairs you rushed to the door leading to the hall.

You saw the empty hall, and started to cry realizing that no one could help you, that's when Ethan threw himself on you, knocking you to the ground. He turned you on your back and raised his knife. It was the end, you closed your eyes so as not to see him. That's when a shot rang out, you jumped and opened your eyes. Ethan was no longer on top of you, he was running towards the emergency exit, Kirby not far behind him.

Sam rushes towards you. "Y/n, are you okay? Show me, did he hurt you."

Your nerves began to drop when you saw your friend's reassuring face, you let out all your tears and fell into her arms. She hugged you and stroked your hair. "Shhhh, it's over, I'm here."

You don't know how long you stayed like that, but after a while Kirby came back, panting.

"I lost him."

This should have worried you but for now you were just happy that Sam understood your hidden message. You knew that by talking about getting stabbed by your ex-best friend, she would have made the connection with Ethan, your current, now ex, best friend. But the hell, when will it end....

#scream vi #ethan landry #ethan landry x reader #ethan landry x y/n #ethan landry x you #scream #scream x reader

[christinebloodwrittings]

To hunt or be hunted #3

Pairing: Alastor x Fem!Reader x Lucifer Summary: The Vee's had the audacity to try to ransack the Hotel, Angel gets some tea and biscuits, the Terror makes herself present after 30 years of absence. Warnings: Blood, torture, sadism, Valentino's sick ass.

Hazbin Taglist: @sakuraluna2468 @boogiemansbitch @mysterypotatoink

“Who is she? The demon living in between the walls?” his severe tone made Charlie’s legs quiver, Alastor’s smile widened when he noticed. “Dad, what are you talking about?” she still tried to remain calm and cheery, “You know, I thought I was going crazy, but then she delivered tea to my room” ‘Fast, think Charlie’ she encouraged herself, her thoughts going through your bond straight into your ears.

“There’s someone living in the walls?” Angel asked at the same time as Vaggie and Husk, intensifying the princess’s panic, “Dad it’s just a spell I managed to learn, after the extermination I been working on my powers” a half-lie half-truth, but that seemed to do the trick.

Not because Charlie was any good at lying, but because the rest decided not to question her, why would them? Specially her father, who relied on denial, incapable to willingly accept his daughter’s lies, rather a consequence of isolation and desperation to have a good relationship with her, even if that meant that he would have to be lied to.

Meaning, a deep part of him was aware it was a lie, but the rest, decided to let it slide, painfully so.

“Yeah? Well your ‘spell’ needs work, it’s snappy” he joked, his mask better than his fake optimism. “I’ll see to it, dad” then she excuse herself to the kitchen, being followed by a dark figure.

“My dad saw you” she busted inside, closing the door and sealing the noise inside. You accidentally dropped the spoon you were using to sample the salt level of the broth, giving the startle, which the princess earned a grimace in return.

“Technically no, I was using my veil” she huffed, her horns growing on her head, “Did you tell him anything?” she was desperate to know, giving how much her hands trembled, “Only that he looked anemic, which it’s true, then he asked for who I am, twice” There was no point in neglecting lunch simply because Charlie was suffering from a tantrum due to lack of control over her own emotions, and a lie that was eating her soul.

“What did you respond?” she slammed her fist against the kitchen island, breaking the marble underneath, causing one or another shard to bury itself into her soft skin. “Just that it was none of his business” you lowered the heat under the pot, then turned to see the princess attempting to take the little pieces of stone out of her hand.

“This is bad” referring to the situation, she kept hurting herself, until you took her wrist and levitated the shards off and threw them in the garbage. “If you like them so much, why you keep lying? You’ve seen the worst of everyone, I don’t think they will judge you, they can’t anyway” the first aid kit levitated off the cupboard, eagerly opening its lid to reveal alcohol, povidone, cotton and bandages.

“How do you confess such a thing? I have two years left to convince you, and I still haven’t made progress” she spoke as she hissed from moment to moment, feeling the sting of the alcohol cleaning her cuts, then she watched as the bandages snaked from her wrist to wrap itself around her hand, then mimicked with the color of her skin, completely invisible.

“Is it really so hard for you to understand that I don’t need to be saved?” she lifted her sight from her hands to your eyes, “I can’t just give up on you” it’s funny how you understood her urge, but simply couldn’t put up with her selflessness (obsession) sometimes.

“You can, you just don’t want to” you looked over your arm, admiring the reminiscing of your deal tattooed to your skin, like a vine threatening to tear you apart. “Anyways, quit stirring your oatmeal around, you have to eat it” Charlie gave you a pout, you knew she hated it, but since you became aware of her habit, you made sure to give her a heavy breakfast, “But the texture” she whined, getting no reaction from you, “I don’t care”.

When she left, you noticed the deer demon’s shadow attached to the princess’s, you made sure to step on it to avoid an escape on its part.

It gave you a guttural whine giving the strength of your hold, “Tell Alastor that I’ll give him roasted venison’s heart as a treat if he holds his peace” he made a thinking face, then materialized words in the air, saying “My lips are sealed up tight as a drum, chérie” then your ominous buddy slithered under the door and out of sight.

Later in the evening, around tea time, while you were cutting the heart into bite size pieces, you heard a thundering  crash, a yell and things breaking. You let your nerves ease, Lucifer was in the building so he could handle things if they escalate to a mortal edge, so instead of worrying you let the meat marinate in a mixture of buttermilk, salt, lemon juice, various herbs, and spices.

“Y/n!” you heard the summon, “Valentino is in the hotel, please…handle the situation” you set the knife down, turned off the stove, “I’m on it” with that you disappeared from the kitchen in a swirl of smoke.  

The scene in the lobby was horrible, the moth demon had Angel in his grasp in any way possible, one hand on his chain, two hands handling all his arms, and the remaining one fondling him with the tip of a gun.

The star’s body was bruised up to no end, mouth coughing blood, and had cigarette burns along his hands and arms. Since he had a gun, there wasn’t much the crew could do, approaching Valentino would cause Angel’s death, no matter the strategy any of the present could think of.

In between Charlie’s pleas, Vaggie and Husk’s threats, and Vox’s amused laugh, the hotel’s phone rang. The sound drawing everyone’s attention, Niffty took the old looking phone off its base, “Hello? Oh hi! Yes, he’s here, It’s for you” Vox took a few steps forward, took the phone reaching it to his ear level.

What he heard froze every liter of blood in his body, his hands, the only skin visible, paled as the voice in the other side of the line, was one he thought no longer walked this earth.

“Child” you smiled, he could feel it, “Mistress” a crawling sensation invaded Valentino´s spine, nearly cracked his neck as he violently turned his head towards his friend, “There’s a total of three thousand five hundred and seventy-five employers inside the V tower” he tried accessing his tower security camera system, but there was no connection, there was a complete blackout inside the building.

“Truly the role of overlord turned into a joke” Vox felt a pang in his side and a nauseating sensation,

“Please, please, please, don’t-” begged a voice that turned into drowned screams, “The last time we had a conversation, I taught you a lesson, recite it for me, every word that you get wrong will result into the number lowering 10 employers each” Vox swallowed a lump of saliva, as he felt the cold traveling from his toes to his neck, every bolt in his body fighting to flow correctly as he tried to re formulate a speech from thirty years ago.

“The job of an Overlord-”he lost his words, on the phone he heard it, ten times a crunching sound ten times in a row, “Again” your voice brought him back, “The role of an Overlord sovereign, is not only to torment the souls he possesses. He must be disciplined, sane, cold headed, and have the will to care for those who grant him his position and power” of 37 words he had 6 mistakes, which resulted in seventy deaths, counting in the first ten.

“Do you or Valentino enter in such description?” his ego killed himself when he had to answer, “No”, that made you smile, “What are you now and what you’ll always be?” you had to admit, the view from the top of the tower was exquisite, the warm light from the city reflected on your figure, your axe glowing in the darkness drenched in tears, blood and saliva.

“An overpowered pest” Vox answered, being seen by his nemesis Alastor such a state of shame, being ridiculed in front of the king of hell himself, and what’s worse, his drone was angled in a way his little stunt was streamed live all over hell, that was truly a delicious sight.

“Good boy” Valentino felt sick hearing you take a different modus operandi, usually you were one to jump from nowhere and strike, not to sacrifice ‘innocents’ as a way of extortion.

“Let’s make it fun, mmh? Leave the star be, and maybe I’ll consider not paying your other V a visit” Angel heard most of everything giving that Vox made sure the phone was in between him and the moth, Angel was still on Valentino´s grasp so he was being obligated to hear the slaughter.  

“Val” the two overlord exchanged a look, Valentino groaned adding strength to the hold, making Angel cry in pain, “If I hear another sound of his throat I’ll knock down Velvette’s door” the two Vee’s heard their team mate voice at the distance, right in between your warning.

It all fell onto Valentino’s shoulders, but even him wasn’t that dumb, he walked forward with Angel, placing him at arms reach from Charlie, then he let go, “It’s done” you walked far from the door as you heard the bitterness in his voice, “Lovely, now, put Alastor on the line, please” he did as told, as the smiling demon hit him with an amused look on his face.  

“Vox” he placed the phone near himself, “I better don’t catch you lurking around in the district” when you wanted to, your voice could be as warm as a fireplace in winter, but also as cold as being buried alive under a snow avalanche. “Understood” he passed the phone to Alastor, shakily so.  

“Hello?” Charlie was stunned, Alastor’s mannerisms shifted, she wasn’t sure how, but they did. “Let me know when they leave” he heard the lack of amusement in your voice, the same you had back at his old studio. “They’re out” he said as soon as the door closed.

“Good, you’ll get your reward when I come back” You lowered the trinket that could be called a telephone, however the static of his voice caught your attention, “Vais-je m'entendre avec votre compagnie, ou me laisserez-vous manger tout seul ?” (Will I get it along with your company, or will you let me to eat all by myself?), Alastor caught Charlie then Lucifer’s stare, both surprised at the new voice he used when speaking French, smooth, velvety even.

“Will it make you happy if I joined you?” he wasn’t expecting you to understand him, but it pleased him to no end, “Oui chérie” (Yes darling), his antics made you miss the old times, “Maybe some other time, I am running late for dinner preparations” his smile didn’t faltered, but he was disappointed, “I’ll make sure to leave a glass of wine waiting for you in your studio, maybe in exchange of another song?” Charlie would have your head on the wrong end of her trident if you were to neglect your job.

“Merci chérie, which will that be?” you took a moment to process how attractive his voice sounded, before answering, “Surprise me” then you hang up.

Later that evening, Charlie repeated the way she wished to talk with you, busting the door open and sealing the noise, “What’s going on with you and Alastor?” ‘Straight to the point I see’ you thought while stirring the pesto sauce to fully combine it with the pasta.  

“Nothing, merely sympathy towards a comrade” perhaps that wasn’t the right term, but it was what you could think of, “You two had met already?” she made her way to the cupboard, taking out a few plates, “Not directly, but I like to think we both were aware of the other, but simply decided not to engage” it would’ve been deadly to have done so, perhaps for both Alastor and yourself.  

“Dinner’s ready, since I am not to be seen, I guess you can take it from here, make sure Angel eats it all” you left her even more confused than when she walked in.

Alastor made his way to his studio after dinner, finding the cooked little bits of venison carefully plated, next to a glass of Pinot Noir wine. He would never utter noises that would degrade his so beloved reputation, but at the first bite, he couldn’t resist letting a small moan escape his throat.

At 3 am, the so called ‘Devils hour’, a knock interrupted Angel’s poor attempt to patch his wounds up, “Charlie, it’s late for ya’ to be…who are you?” he opened the door, finding you, fresh from the shower, it may have been a bit insulting to show up in your ruined working attire all drenched in blood, so you thought best to freshen up before making an appearance.

“I believe you already know that” he recognized your voice, it made his breath hitch, “What are you doing ‘ere?” his courage faltered giving his wounds, but if he was going to die by your hand, he wasn´t going to go quietly.

“I been in your place before” Angel’s eyes fell upon the red tin box, then scoffed, “Yeah sure” his strength faltered, laid his side against the door frame, trying to make it look cool, but failing.

“Whether you believe me or not it’s not my concern, however, those wounds will get infected if not treated correctly, giving your line of work that would be a tragedy” Angel pondered for a second, in defeat he pushed the door to open it completely, granting you access.

“Exactly how you’ve been in my place before?” he asked, watching you take a seat in his bed, taking multiple things out of the box, “You are one of four demons with powers to the level of royalty, you own thousands if not millions of souls, you dared to challenge the fucking Goetia clan and won! I doubt you were ever in pain before” he sat next to you, your image above the rest popping into his head like an epic cinematic of a great villain arc.

He then had to snap out of it due to a sound, “You fucking laughin’ at me?” you held your laughter against the inside of your clothed elbow, making the spider feel embarrassed and a little scared. “I apologize, but your ignorance astounds me” you signaled him to wait, with a snap of your fingers there was a bowl of warm water and a cotton rag, applying an antiseptic to the water before starting to palp softly on Angel’s wounds.

“The correct terminology is ‘were’ dearest, I used to be that kind of demon, now, I’m just here to aid you” Angel found that hard to believe, but didn’t questioned you, rather enjoyed your care.

“Is it true?” after a long time of you washing him, he broke the silence, making you look up from the cigar burns on his hands, “Did you really murdered three Goetia?” that brought you memories, when you were young and hungry for power, almost nostalgic.

“What would make you believe me? Their severed heads or the scars on my body? Because I can only offer the latter” he hissed when the rubbing alcohol touched the cut on his eyebrow, “People say you had their heads hanged on your wall as trophies” you laughed again, people’s bad mouthing can get to be really impressive, imaginative even.

“I would truly be a monster if I didn’t offered my fallen opponents a dignified burial, don’t you agree?” You had challenged three lesser lords to duel, to death of course, which they had agreed to, spoken and in paper, you would never be as foolish as just bust the door open and kill whomever.

“Please don’t speak of my presence here, if you are good, I’ll make cannoli for tea time” he could see that you were in a similar situation as his, being owed, as well as your subtle urgency. “Sure toots, I won’t”.

“Hey, can I ask, why Axe-man?” he spoke, when you were finishing to brush alcohol on the cuts on his back, “The local paper and the New Orleans police named me that, I just didn't want to change it when I got here, and people respect a man killer more than a woman, or that’s how it used to be” he didn’t needed stitching, if Valentino wanted to really hurt him, you’d probably would have to sew limbs together.

“That’s it? I mean…I thought it was somethin a bit more dramatic” you despised (understatement) the Italian new York accent he spoke with, but he was nothing like the Italian mobsters of yesteryear, he walked with the grace of a runway model, proud of his looks, his fame, himself, but masked all his pain and self-loathing within. You felt as if you were staring at a younger version of yourself, so full of life, yet lacking purpose.

“Well at the time no one could think a woman was smart enough to participate in politics, much less kill someone, I embraced that alter-ego over time, it became a second skin…so to speak" it was wise to believe that last statement.

Angel hummed in agreement, getting a good look at you. Yellow-beige skin; the heel of your hand was hard and rough probably because of your lion looking appearance, big fluffy yellow ears on each top side of your head almost disappearing into your hair. Taking out the ears, the long heavy tail, and the black cat nose you have, you could pass for a human, or almost looking similar to Charlie.

He was so tempted to touch your tail, color that matched your skin and the ears, but you got up before he could reach.

“Now, take those pills, every six to eight hours should help with the pain and the swelling, I suggest you take it at a much appropriate time” he watched you as you gracefully poured tea into a white and pink tea cup, leaving it on his night stand along with a little biscuit.

“Thank you” your ears twitched happily, “My pleasure, dear, rest” never, not to any living soul, would you admit that you enjoyed being useful, but it made you feel lighter, like breathing fresh air for the first time.

“By the way, the butler aesthetic suits you, ya’ look hot”

“Thank you, I have to look the part, don’t I?”

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

Author note: No matter what type of body you have, you would slay in that outfit!

Part 4

#alastor hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel art #hazbin hotel theory #hazbin hotel fanart #hazbin hotel fandom #hazbin angel dust #hazbin lucifer #hazbin art #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel #alastor x reader #radio demon #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor the radio demon #cursed cat alastor #alastor #lucifer morningstar #radioapple #dad beat dad #lucifer magne #hazbin hotel lucifer #lucifer x reader #fat nuggets #angel dust #hazbin hotel husk