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charliemwrites · 17 hours

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Part 4

Mister(s) Steal Your Girl is, somehow, now the official title. Congratulations you little shits (affectionate).

Content: Toxic Behavior, Brief Weight Shaming, Hurt/Comfort

You didn’t expect to see Johnny much after that one night - or possibly ever again. Kyle introduced you two, it was a lot of fun, but you figure that’ll be the end of it. Like introducing a new man to your girlfriends (not that you can really introduce Kyle to yours) you passed the vibe check and now Kyle will keep you and Johnny separate.

That’s how it’s been with Brandon’s friends. (Granted, you don’t really care for Brandon’s friends. And you figure it’s mutual based on the “uptight” comments they pretended to think you couldn’t hear.)

You’re starting to realize that Kyle is always going to subvert your expectations.

Johnny becomes a fixture - a welcome one. While you and Kyle still have your date nights and privacy, Johnny joins you two at least once a week for movies, drinks, dinner, or just silly adventures out and about.

You’re surprised that you don’t mind. Johnny is fantastic company, always respectful, funny, and friendly. Whenever the two of you are left alone, there’s no dead air. In fact, sometimes you could almost swear there’s electricity. Which is… well. It makes it hard to look him in the eye sometimes - and looking at Kyle even harder.

Guilt nips at your stomach until one of them distracts you with another story you’re 70% sure they shouldn’t tell you.

You and Johnny play a game with pub napkins, doodling something on one folded half, then passing it over for the other to scribble on the second half. The trick is not cheating and seeing the first half, then unfolding it to a complete (and usually silly) picture. Gaz always gets to name whatever monstrosity has been created.

You get a month of that good company. Then Kyle sighs at his phone one night.

“Shipping out again,” he explains when you glance at him.

“Will you be gone long?” you ask, shifting.

His brow furrows. “Not sure. They can’t tell us much over the phone.”

You hum in understanding. Still new to this whole military thing, the redacted danger of it all, but you think you’re getting the hang of it. At least, Kyle never seems annoyed when he can’t answer you, only apologetic.

“Is it gonna be the whole team?” you ask.

“Nah, just me and the cap.” He rubs his palm along your calf, a gesture that you suspect is self-soothing rather than for your benefit. “Probably not too dangerous, then.”

You make a noise of protest, nudging at his thigh with your foot. “Bad luck!”

“Sorry, sorry!” he chuckles, tapping his knuckles on the wooden end table. “You’re right.”

You crawl from your side of the couch to his, nuzzling up under his arm. He trails kisses along the side of your face as you snuggle in.

“I’ll miss you,” you mumble into his neck. Still a little embarrassed to be so needy, but you want him to feel appreciated.

“I’ll miss you too, chickadee. I’ll call if I can, yeah?”

You hum in agreement, squeezing an arm around his middle.

“While I’m gone, if you need anything - even some company - you ought to call Soap,” he adds.

The idea is tempting but… “I don’t want to bother him.”

“I promise you won’t,” he laughs. You don’t know what’s so funny, but hearing his voice rumble in his chest like this is always a treat.

“Maybe,” you allow.

“We’ll take it.” Before you can ask what that means, he loops an arm around your waist and scoops you into his lap. “Now then, about my send off.”

Your giggle turns into a moan as his mouth slants over yours.

Kyle’s only been gone three days. You’ve occupied yourself with cleaning up the flat you share with Brandon. Dust has been collecting since you’ve been out and about so much - and god knows Brandon hardly does more than load the dishwasher. Besides, a good bit of spring cleaning is a pleasant enough distraction, humming as you toss out old things to make more room for the new stuff you’ve been collecting.

“Good to see you getting back to normal,” Brandon says cheerfully. You glance up from the laundry you’re folding. He continues, “I was worried with how behind you got on things, but I knew you just needed some time. I told you this would be better for us both.”

You try not to let that sting. Even if things are better now, and continuing to get better, you can’t forget the pain that lingers from the beginning.

“Tell you what,” he adds, hands in his pockets. “When you finish cleaning up, I’ll take you out to the pub, yeah? Put on something pretty.”

You perk up, pleasantly surprised, though hesitant.

“We could leave earlier if you helped,” you point out, hoping for more than just dinner. “Maybe we could walk in the park or something before eating.”

He gives you a weak smile. One you recognize more than his real one by now. It’s almost apologetic, but not quite.

“I would but I’m bloody exhausted from this week, ya know? Big projects coming up at work.”

Your smile freezes. “And some late nights, I’m sure,” you try to joke.

He doesn’t laugh like you expect, but gives you an odd look. “Why would you say something like that?”

Baffled, you shrug. He shakes his head.

“I’m going to take a nap, come wake me up when you’re ready to go.”

You manage to finish the majority of your to-do list by 5. Shower, get dressed, do your hair and makeup with Brandon snoring in the background until 6. By then, he still hasn’t woken up from his nap, so you perch on the edge of the bed and gently nudge at him until he stirs.

“I’m ready to go, babe,” you murmur.

He scrunches up his face - you spare an affectionate thought for how cute it is. You’ve always found it cute.

“Five more minutes,” he grumbles.

You laugh a little. “It’s getting late, we should probably head out.”

He groans. “Five. Minutes.”

You huff in amusement and reach for his phone to set an alarm, but pause at all the notifications from dating apps crowding his screen. There are… a lot. And as you’re looking, a new message pops up, just labeled “blonde” with a peach emoji. Gross.

You set the alarm and slip away to the living room.

It takes him another half hour to finally rouse, shuffling into the living room with a groan.

“C’mon,” he yawns. “It’s going to be bloody crowded by now.”

You follow him quietly to the car, knowing he’s not chatty when he’s just woken up. Hunger only adds to his mood; you can practically see a cloud forming over his head. By the time he pulls up to the pub, he’s downright grumpy. He grumbles about shit parking, and the milling people outside. It looks busy.

“We could go somewhere else?” you suggest.

“This is fine,” he says.

He parks a block away and starts at a swift pace. You try to hold his hand, but halfway there, he pulls away to check his phone and doesn’t take it again.

Surprisingly, it’s only a twenty minute wait for a table - but Brandon sneers something like “of course it is” under his breath. You smile apologetically at the hostess and usher him away.

He doesn’t talk during the wait, at first. Until suddenly he blurts. “We wouldn’t have to wait if you’d woken me up.”

You blink at him. “I did. You asked for five more minutes.”

“Well, why didn’t you wake me up then?”

“I set an alarm?”

You don’t know why he’s so irritated, just that he seems tired and hungry.

“You know I don’t listen to alarms,” he complains, scowling at the sidewalk.

“Okay… I’ll wake you up next time,” you offer.

“Yeah, next time.”

Thankfully, the two of you are called a little early. The pub is indeed loud and crowded, and you’re definitely overdressed. But at least you know what you want - Brandon’s taken you here a million times before.

Wisely, you wait until he’s downed the texmex rolls before trying for conversation again. He hums along as you talk about work, about the books you’ve been reading, about the new movie you saw last week. You think it’s going pretty well, catching up on each other’s lives, when he interrupts you mid-sentence.

“Where was this?”

You frown. “At the grocery store…?”

“You’re still on that? Thought we moved on from that story.”

You don’t bother finishing it, just ask him about his work. It’s like pulling teeth. A lot of “good” and “busy” and “same as usual.” By the time your entree comes, you’ve given up, not sure if you want to cry or just walk away to see if he even notices. He keeps checking his phone. Your fingers twitch to text Kyle, but you don’t want to bother him while he’s working.

The end of dinner can’t come sooner. You decline dessert when the server asks.

“Probably for the better,” Brandon tells you lowly when they’re gone to get the check. “I think you’ve put on a bit of weight. You know how you get.”

You probably have - Kyle has a sweet tooth and practically begs you to split desserts with him. Johnny’s shares his food with you now too, grinning when you express approval for whatever high-protein dish he’s picked and shoving more at you.

As for “how you get”… Brandon’s mentioned in the past when you were heavier that you get mopey, aren’t much fun to be around.

(A small part of you wonders how that would even effect him at this point. He doesn’t spend enough time around you to notice if you’re mopey. Is that why tonight has been such a disaster…?)

You just collect your purse and lead the way out of the pub. It’s a quiet walk back to the car, even though Brandon seems to be in a better mood. He’s still texting, nearly bumps into an elderly couple along the way.

Back at the apartment, he runs his hand down your side, tugs at the lace hem of your shirt.

“Careful,” you chide.

He sucks his teeth and drops his hand. “I’m just trying to be playful.”

“I know, but I like this shirt.”

He rolls his eyes. “You’ve got three just like it.”

You don’t answer, know it’ll lead to more useless bickering. Just tug the stupid thing over your head, ready to go to bed.

“Hey now, that’s more like it,” he drawls, fingertips running down your spine.

You jump, surprised, but play it off that his hands are cold. He makes some crass comment about warming them up, reaching for your breasts, and your stomach churns.

“I-I think I ate something bad,” you lie, all but sprinting for the bathroom.

You close the door behind you - but don’t lock it. Just sit on the floor, the wall cold against your back, while you try to breathe through your spinning, conflicting thoughts.

He’s finally giving you attention, affection. Why aren’t you jumping at this opportunity to spend time with him? Not long ago, you would have been weeping with joy to have an iota of your normal relationship back. Maybe you really did eat something bad.

“Hey,” Brandon calls through the door, “I’m gonna stay somewhere else tonight.”

You stare at the blank white wood, aghast. “But I’m sick.”

“It’s not like I can do much, is there? Except listen to you be sick all night,” he reasons. “And who knows. Maybe it wasn’t something you ate. Maybe it’s contagious. I don’t want to spend the weekend ill.”

Your eyes burn. He didn’t even open the door to check. “Yeah,” you agree, voice robotic, “you’re right.”

Not even five minutes later, you hear the front door close. That almost, almost does you in. You manage to keep your lackluster dinner down, but not the tears.

You let yourself be pathetic for a few minutes, crying into your arms, folded over your knees. When you finally manage to get yourself together, it’s not Brandon you ache for. It’s Kyle. It’s not possible, you know. You just don’t want to be alone even though the nausea is dissipating.

Sighing, you remove your ruined makeup and wash your face, climb into one of Kyle’s jumpers. At least it still smells like him. It’s only as you’re trying to decide on a comfort show, huddled into a ball on the couch, that you remember his advice.

It takes all of fifteen seconds of debate before you scramble for your phone.

I know it’s late, but are you free, you text Johnny.

A response comes almost immediately.

Always for you, lass. You bite your lip on a tiny smile, already feeling better. Your phone buzzes again. What’s up?

Your thumbs hover over the keyboard for a moment as you figure out what to ask - then how to ask it.

Would you want to come to mine for movies? I don’t feel good…

He answers instantly again. Ice cream not-good or Theraflu not-good?

You sniffle when you remember that being sick was a dealbreaker for your night with Brandon.

Ice cream not-good, you reply.

Say no more, hen. Be there in fifteen. Pick a good one.

You watch TikTok’s until there’s a knock at the door. Upon answering, you’re swept up in a bear hug that lifts you off your socked feet.

“Johnny!” you cry, laughing a bit in shock.

“There she is!” he crows, swinging you around. “Been missin’ my best girl!”

You tell yourself the thrill in your stomach is just from him setting you down. (It’s a harder sell when it happens again seeing his wide smile and warm blue eyes.)

“You're ridiculous,” you huff, “I’m not your best girl.”

He arches his eyebrows. “Oh, yer keepin’ track, are ye?”

“C’mon, you must have a partner or something?” you prod as you usher him inside.

“Kyle must’ve told ye, hen, it’s hard in this line of work,” he explains, shrugging. “Tried before but… usually they just end up feeling neglected, ya ken.”

You hum. That’s why Kyle said you and he would work so well with the open relationship - that you’d still have someone at home while he was out. That you wouldn’t be alone if something happened to him.

“Anyway, this is no kinda talk for a cozy night in, now is it?” Johnny says, cutting your melancholy musing short. “Come look at what I brought ya!”

You only notice then the two grocery bags in one hand. He herds you to the couch and sets them on the coffee table for you to root through.

“My favorite!” You exclaim when you extract the tub of ice cream.

The grin Johnny shoots you is proud. “Kyle said so.”

“You two,” you sigh happily.

He’s also brought a squishy stuffed animal, crisps, popcorn, soda, candy, and a small collection of self-care items. You hold the face-masks up with a questioning smile.

“Heard somewhere that it’s good for ye, when yer feelin’ down.” You try not to giggle when the last word comes out sounding like “doon.” He continues, blissfully ignorant. “Hope that’s the right shite, there was a lot to choose from.”

You throw your arms around him, chest warm. “Thank you, this is perfect, Johnny.”

He circles his arm around your waist, holding you close. “Anytime, bonnie,” he murmurs into your hair.

You squeeze his shoulders as you pull away, waving one of the mask packets with a wicked little smile.

“Wanna try this ‘shite’ with me?” you tease.

You expect a resounding and masculine-heavy no. Instead, Johnny tilts his head consideringly for a moment, then shrugs.

“Eh, why the hell not?”

You wake up the next morning to a mess of candy wrappers, discarded moisturizers, and an empty carton of ice cream. And the smell of eggs. Cartoons are playing quietly on the telly. When you yawn and sit up, you’re greeted by a cheerful Johnny at the stove, wearing your pink apron.

“Mornin’, sunshine,” he calls.

You flush and smile back, glad that you called him. “Mornin’!”

#cod #my writing #fanfiction #reader fic #misters steal your girl #kyle gaz x reader #kyle gaz garrick #john soap mctavish x reader #john soap mactavish #Brandon the crash dummy

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thewulf · 1 day

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Bound by Shadows || Azriel

Summary: Request - I'm hoping you could write a fanfic where reader, Feyre's twin, who actually killed the wolf but let Feyre take the credit... and before she realizes what she's done Feyre is gone. She struggles with guilt and isolation in Velaris after the sisters transformation by the Cauldron.... Read Rest Here

A/N: OKAY I LOVE THIS. It got away from me a bit. I didn't realize how fun this world would be to dive into. Let me know your thoughts as always :)

Pairing: Azriel Shadowsinger x Female Reader (Feyre Archeron Twin Sister)

Word Count: 8.2k +

TW: General ACOTAR TW

Under the starlit skies of Velaris the City of Starlight pulses with a life of its own. Its vibrant lights reflecting off the river with laughter and music filling the air, breathing life into every cobblestone and corner. But for you the city’s brilliance only deepens the shadows that cling to your soul. Shadows that no light seems capable of dispelling.

You walked alone. Your steps aimless being driven by the restless guilt that gnaws incessantly at your conscience. Every whisper of the wind seems to accuse you, every glance from a passerby seems to pierce through the facade you barely maintain. The weight of the secret you harbor presses down on you with every step… the wolf, the woods, the dreadful slice of the arrow that was meant to protect Feyre not harm her. But Feyre stepped forward and shouldered the blame. She was taken from you in an instant and forced to face the horrors of the faerie lands. It was all to shield you her twin she thought of being too gentle, too fragile for the brutal truths of that world.

The transformation wrought by the Cauldron has only magnified everything. Every emotion, every fear, every shard of guilt. It was supposed to be a rebirth but for you it feels more like a slow descent into a nightmare from which you cannot awaken. The power that now courses through your veins feels like chains. A constant reminder of the price paid to the mother. Of the freedom you don’t believe you deserve.

As you wander through the bustling streets the sounds of celebration around you clash violently with the turmoil within. Families and lovers share warm, joyous moments. Their laughter echoing in the crisp night air while you drift among them. You were simply a specter unseen, untouched by the light of their joy. Your heart aches with a loneliness so profound it threatens to consume you whole. To reduce your existence to a mere shadow of regret and sorrow.

You find yourself on one of the many ornate bridges spanning the Sidra. A place you often found some sort of solace in. You leaned over the balustrade to gaze into the dark waters below. The reflection of the city’s lights dances across the surface, a stark contrast to the darkness that seems to stretch endlessly beneath. It is here in the quiet far enough away from the eyes of those who know you, those who worry over you, that your facade finally cracks.

Tears that were unbidden and unwelcome, spill over, tracing cold paths down your cheeks. You are tired. So incredibly tired of pretending. Of hiding the depth of your pain. You wish to scream so loud. To let out the anguish that fills you, but your voice is as lost as your soul feels in the face of your endless guilt. Instead, you just stare down at the dark waters with silent sobs wracking your body. It was better this way. You couldn’t let Feyre see you like this. She was finally so happy. So happy with her mate. Her Rhysand. You couldn’t threaten that happiness. You owed her so much more than that. You quite literally owed her your life. So, you would suck it up in solace. Cry it out on your own.

In the solitude of the night, you allowed yourself to feel your overwhelming emotions. To acknowledge the pain and the darkness. Little did you know you are not as alone as you believe. From the shadows an Illyrian figure watches you. His own heart heavy with unspoken secrets. Azriel was the spymaster of night court for a reason. He picked up on you disappearing for hours at a time when the others didn’t. He picked up on the fake smiles you threw everyone’s way. He seemed to pick up on it while the others didn’t… other than Feyre who seemed to watch you just as much as he did. He decided he would watch over you. For Feyre, his brothers mate. And for you. The woman who couldn’t seem to get used to being Fae as easily as your sisters did. The human turned Fae that consumed more of his thoughts than he cared to admit.

But for now, he waited behind his shadows. A silent guardian in the night recognizing that some battles must be faced alone before they can be shared.

You returned from the bustling markets of Velaris with arms laden with the myriad items Feyre requested. As you approach the townhouse the warm light from within spills out onto the cobblestones. It was a stark contrast to the dusk settling over the city. You pause at the door steeling yourself with a deep breath before stepping inside. Your smile as you hand the bags to Feyre doesn't quite reach your eyes. But she's too caught up in the moment to notice.

"Thank you so much," she says with a relief evident as she starts to unpack the food you’d volunteered to pick up for her. She pauses before she got too carried away giving you that look, the one you've come to know so well. The one that silently implores you to stay. To be a part of her world. "Will you stay for dinner? Everyone's coming over. Even Amren agreed to come. It would mean so much to me."

Her eyes are pleading and you know you can't refuse. Not when she's given up so much for you. With a nod you agree even as your stomach tightens at the thought of facing everyone. It was easy to fake your inner turmoil when it was only her or Rhys. But when it was the entirety of the Inner Circle it was harder to hide away. Inevitably someone would get you hooked in on a conversation. You haven't sat down with them since… well, since before the Cauldron. Since before everything changed. And that was almost an entire year ago now. You knew this request would come sooner or later. Though you were hoping for later you were going to suck it up for Feyre.

As the evening wears on the townhouse fills with laughter and conversation with everyone gathering in the familiar camaraderie that once felt like home to you. But now you feel like an outsider watching from the shadows even as you sit among them. At the dinner table you're terribly quiet. You were merely pushing food around your plate listening to the ebb and flow of conversations you can't force yourself to seem to join.

Feyre decided to sit beside you in hopes of calming your nerves. She notices. She notices the way your eyes were downturned. The way you occasionally nodded your head or smiled briefly pretending to be listening. The way you didn’t pick your fork up once. Her joy fades a little each time she glances your way. You didn’t notice the way her expression turned from mirth to concern. She squeezed your hand under the table in a silent message of solidarity and love. But even her touch can't pull you from the fog that's settled over you. You couldn’t help but wonder if this was your punishment? To live in a hazed state for thousands of years? Oh, how you wished to be a tiny little human again with the promise of dead after a hundred years or so.

Rhysand sat at the head of the table catches Feyre’s subtle, worried glances towards her twin. She meets his eyes with a silent conversation passing between them. She didn’t know what to do anymore. She needed help. He nods slightly. His expression was solemn, understanding the depth of her worry. His gaze then shifts to you filled with a quiet resolve. He knew you were struggling but didn’t pick up on just how much you were. You’d done a masterful job until tonight hiding it away.

Rhysand had felt the ripple of concern from Feyre long before she voiced it. Her distress over your withdrawal echoing within him. She watched you with a sister's keen eye and her silent worry bled into their shared bond. A testament to her deep care for you.

Azriel, Feyre is troubled by Y/N's state. As am I. Rhysand's thought reached out to his brother that was sitting next to you. There was a thread of urgency woven through the mental call. She's pulling away and Feyre feels it deeply. Keep an eye on her please? Help her if you can.

Azriel's presence in Rhysand's mind was immediate and calm. He was steady force amid the silent storm of concern. I'm already on it, Rhys. I’ve sensed it too, he assured. His mental voice as composed as the shadows he commanded. You don't need to worry. I’ve been watching over her not out of obligation, but because... because she matters to me. I’ll make sure she’s safe and supported.

Azriel’s vigilance came not from an order but from a place of quiet solidarity. His attunement to the nuances of emotion and the unspoken had already drawn him to your side. Rhysand’s request merely echoed the actions he’d already undertaken. His actions were born from a blend of duty and a deep, personal concern that Azriel rarely let show. In the face of Feyre's distress and now Rhysand’s request, he became a silent sentinel for you. He needed to ensure that you were not only protected but also truly seen and understood.

Dinner continues around you as you withdrew into yourself. The laughter a stark contrast to the turmoil raging within you. You're barely aware of Azriel's presence on your other side until you feel him beside you. His chair slightly closer than usual. His voice is soft, almost lost in the surrounding noise, as he leans in. "You don't have to be anything you're not, not here," he murmurs only for you to hear. "It’s okay to just be. To just breathe." His words meant to comfort felt like a lifeline in the sea of your tumultuous thoughts. You didn’t look at him for you were worried tears might spill over. But you nodded in acknowledgement letting him know that you heard him.

The evening slowly winds down and as the others linger over drinks and stories Azriel stays by your side. His presence a steady promise of understanding and patience. He doesn't push you to talk nor does he expect smiles. Instead, he offers the silent support you didn't know you needed, becoming a guardian not just of your safety, but of your peace.

Feyre watches this exchange with a glimmer of hope lighting up her worried features. Perhaps with Azriel's help you might find your way back to them. To yourself. Tonight, though, is just a small step in your journey back to yourself.

As everyone departs for the night you linger in the living room feigning interest in tidying up the small mess left behind. Feyre watches you for a moment with that same concern etching her features. But she decided against speaking, sensing your need for space.

Once the house is quiet you decide to step out for a walk under the night sky of Velaris. It had become your favorite routine. A routine that kept you grounded. A quick walk to your favorite spot on the Sidra. The city's soft lights reflect gently on the river casting dancing patterns on the water. It's beautiful yet the sight does little to ease the tightness in your chest.

You're so lost in your thoughts that you don't notice Azriel's approach until he's almost beside you. His presence is calming and somehow it doesn't startle you. Perhaps because in your heart you know he understands the need for quiet. His own demeanor is often just as reserved.

"Good evening," he says. His voice a low rumble. "Care for some company or would you prefer solitude tonight?"

You consider his offer for a moment. Company might not be so bad even though this was usually just a place for you. But it was Azriel. Someone who respects the silence as much as you do. "Company sounds nice, thank you," you reply with your voice softer than you intended.

Azriel nods falling into step beside you. As you walk his shadows play at your feet. It was a subtle yet comforting gesture. At one point one of his shadows curls around your hand. This small, almost imperceptible touch from his shadows offers a silent, comforting presence that envelops you in a sense of security. Neither of you speaks as you walk along the riverbank. The only sounds was the gentle lapping of water against the shore and the distant hum of the city. The silence between you is more than comfortable, filled with an unspoken understanding that words can sometimes be too cumbersome.

After a while though Azriel speaks up. He wasn’t looking at you but staring out at the water. "It's easy to feel lost in this city… even with its lights and crowds. Sometimes it feels like being surrounded by shadows even in the brightest part of the day."

You glance at him, surprised by the reflection of your own feelings in his words. "Yes, it does," you agree. You were feeling a weight lift slightly knowing that someone else understands.

He nods slightly at your words, "The shadows aren't all there is though. There are places, moments like these, that can offer some respite. And not all shadows are bad." He smiles looking down at the ones that clung to your feet.

His words make you look at him anew. You weren’t just seeing the spymaster or the warrior but someone who also seeks to find balance between the light and the dark. It makes you wonder if perhaps in this shared moment you might find a way to navigate your own shadows. They might not all be bad you had to agree with him.

You don't say much more as you walk back to the townhouse, but the silent agreement hangs between you, comforting and promising. Maybe, just maybe, you're not as alone as you thought.

The dawn is still a whisper of light across Velaris as you sit quietly by the Sidra. The gentle murmur of the river a soothing background to your thoughts that never seemed to shut the hell up. Lost in the reflections of the dancing water you hardly notice Azriel’s approach until he’s beside you. His presence as quiet as the morning. It was becoming a routine for him to join you on the river it seemed. Not that you minded. He might be the one person you’d happily accept to intrude on your solitude.

“You’re up early,” he remarks softly not wanting to startle you. His tone as gentle as the river’s flow.

You look up with a soft smile on your face. His familiar, reassuring presence is a comfort. “Just needed some air,” you reply with a yawn. Your voice carrying the weight of another sleepless night.

Azriel nods, understanding. He looks out over the water for a moment sharing the silence with you. Then, turning back to you, he suggests, “Come with me. I think I have something that might help clear your head. Help you to focus a bit.”

You’re hesitant. The idea of doing anything but sitting quietly feels daunting. But there’s something about his offer. The promise of relief, however temporary, that nudges you to your feet.

“It’s just training,” he adds. seeing your uncertainty. “Physical activity can be a good way to let out some of the emotions that are harder to express in words. We’ll take it slow. You set the pace.”

Trusting Azriel’s judgment, knowing he wouldn’t push you into something without reason, you stand and follow him towards the training grounds. The city is quietly waking around you and the walk is silent but comfortable. His presence a steady reassurance by your side. Something you were slowly growing to cherish.

As you reach the secluded training area the first rays of sunlight begin to warm the cool morning air. Azriel gives you a small, encouraging smile. “Let’s start simple. No pressure. Just you learning to trust your strength again.”

The training starts at an easy pace. Azriel guiding you through basic maneuvers. His patience was evident. But as your body begins to warm up with the activity and your focus sharpens on the movements. There was that sense of release you never knew could come. It was unfamiliar yet welcome that starts to take hold on you.

As the morning sun climbs higher the training session progresses under Azriel's watchful eye. You find yourself gradually syncing with the rhythm of the physical exertion. Each movement flushing out the restless energy that has been building up inside you. Azriel's guidance is firm yet encouraging and you start to feel a rare sense of accomplishment as you slowly master each new maneuver he throws at you.

But as the session intensifies Azriel begins to push you harder, increasing the pace and complexity of the drills. His softness changed into some else. You knew he was only pushing you to help but it was starting to become a little too much. You’d only been Fae for a year to his centuries. "Come on, Y/N, focus. You can handle this," he urges. Throwing a series of rapid, controlled strikes that you're meant to block and counter.

For a moment you rise to the challenge your movements sharp and sure. Yet the physical strain is relentless. All too soon it starts to mirror the inner struggled you've been trying to manage. The boundaries between physical exertion and emotional pain blur… each block and dodge feeling more like a fight against your inner demons rather than a simple training exercise.

Suddenly, one of Azriel's strikes comes a little too close, a little too fast. It isn't meant to hit you and it doesn't but the rush of air as it passes by your face triggers something within you. Panic seizes your chest and the walls you've been holding up begin to crumble. Your movements falter. Your hands drop to your sides rapidly as your breath catches in your throat.

You step back abruptly with short, ragged breaths. Azriel stops immediately, concern replacing the intensity in his eyes. "Hey, are you okay?" he asks all too softly this time. He watched with concern as you struggled to compose yourself.

You nod rapidly trying to blink back the tears that want to rush out. “I’m fine. Just tired.” You murmur. It didn’t even sound believable to you. You turned you back to him so he wouldn’t see the distraught look on your face.

He steps forward with a sadness etched deeply on his features. "It's more than just tiredness, isn't it?" he asks gently as he reached out but stopped short, giving you space yet showing his readiness to support.

You shake your head again trying to compose yourself. Willing yourself to rebuild the barriers crumbling around you. "I'm fine, really, just got a little carried away," you offer weakly with your back still turned, fearing that facing him might reveal too much.

But Azriel doesn’t retreat. Instead, his shadows do what he physically refrains from—they reach out for you. You feel a cool, soothing sensation as one shadow gently curls around your arm, not binding but comforting. It was like a silent message of empathy and support. The unexpected kindness, the soft touch of darkness that doesn’t demand or judge, only seeks to comfort. But it undoes you completely.

Your defenses shatter at the tender contact. Tears finally spilling over as you turn back to face him. The floodgates opened by the gentle brush of his shadow. "I'm not fine," you admit, your voice choked with emotion. "It's all just... it's too much sometimes. I feel like I'm drowning in what I had to do. In what Feyre had to endure because of me. All because of me."

Azriel listens with his gaze never wavering. His eyes were filled with compassion and a profound understanding. His shadow retracts slightly giving you a moment, respecting your space while keeping the silent promise of his presence.

He nods his head willing you to continue. "Let it out, Y/N. You don't have to carry this alone," he says quietly finding the courage to step closer now. He opened his arms to you in an offer of comfort that you no longer have the strength to refuse.

As you step into his embrace, allowing yourself to be held, the warmth of his body contrasts with the cool touch of his shadows creating a cocoon of safety around you. "I was the one who killed the wolf that started this whole mess," you confess through sobs. Your words muffled against his chest. "Feyre took the blame to protect me... because she thought I couldn't handle the consequences."

“It’s okay,” he whispers. His voice close to your ear. “You were never meant to carry this alone.” He pauses. His hand gently lifting your chin so you can look at him. “Feyre’s path was her own. Fate had a hand in it. She was meant to meet Rhysand through Tamlin. To find her way to the Night Court. It couldn’t have been you, Y/N. Your path is different and it’s still unfolding.”

You shake your head feeling the weight of it all. “But-“

Azriel’s hold tightens reassuringly. His wings stretched around you before he stops you. “She did what she believed was right, out of love. And now you need to allow yourself to be loved and supported, too. Let your family be here for you. Let me be here for you.” he pleads, his tone imbued with a promise. In the safety of Azriel’s wings with the gentle embrace of his shadows, you feel a lightness you haven’t felt in a long time.

Beneath the shelter of his wings Azriel holds you close feeling the profound shift within as your eyes meet. In that moment a golden thread previously unseen but always present tightens, binding your soul to his. The mating bond ignites with a radiant force, undeniable and transformative.

This newfound connection stirs a deep protectiveness in Azriel, an urge to cherish and guard you that feels both ancient and freshly awakened. Love pulses through this bond unspoken yet palpable aligning his heartbeat with yours. He experiences a profound sense of belonging, understanding now that every moment with you, every shared concern, was leading to this revelation.

With the emergence of the bond, Azriel, who often cloaked himself in mystery, finds in you a clarity that illuminates his existence. This bond does not overwhelm; instead, it completes him, brightening his path forward. The world around him expands promising a journey not walked alone but side by side, in step with each breath.

Yet, the magnitude of this discovery brings a mix of elation and a daunting sense of responsibility. You are vulnerable, your soul laid bare before him, and he is cautious not to burden you further. Internally, Azriel grapples with the desire to declare the bond versus the need to provide you with stability and support without the shock of this revelation.

He resolves to keep this monumental discovery to himself for now, focusing on being your steadfast support. His shadows as a subtle extension of his will, curl gently around you both. They offered a protection and comfort without overwhelming you with the truth.

Azriel knows he must seek Rhysand’s counsel to navigate the complexities of this bond with sensitivity and respect for your emotions. As he holds you he silently vows to take this journey at a pace that honors both your readiness and the bond’s potential. Wrapped in his embrace, Azriel stands as your guardian bonded by fate yet guided by a deep respect for the journey your heart needs to undertake.

"You've been strong today," Azriel whispers into your hair as he senses your grip tighten. "Let's head back home. You need rest." His voice is as soothing as the twilight and his offer is tender, without any urgency that might hint at the truth simmering beneath his calm exterior.

The walk back from the training grounds is quiet, filled with a companionable silence that speaks of shared struggles and mutual care. As Azriel guides you to Feyre's studio, where she immerses herself in swathes of color and light, his touch lingers reassuringly on your arm. It's an affirmation of his presence, his support, his unspoken pledge to be there for you, come what may.

You offer him a soft smile. One that acknowledges the solace his presence brings even though you were still oblivious to the tectonic shift in his inner landscape. Azriel returns your smile with a quiet intensity, a vow that when the time comes for the bond to reveal itself to you he'll be there, just as he is now—steadfast, protective, and utterly devoted.

A subtle shift in Azriel’s demeanor as he prepares to leave catches Feyre's sharp eye. There's a fleeting tension, a trace of something potent and profound flickering in the depths of his usually inscrutable eyes. It's a glimpse of vulnerability. An undercurrent of panic that he's quick to disguise but not before Feyre takes note. Something significant has unsettled the shadowsinger and it likely had to do with you.

With a nod that holds more gravity than usual Azriel turns to go. His steps are measured but the urgency in his exit is apparent to anyone who knows him well. Once he steps beyond the view of the townhouse his wings unfurl, a dark silhouette against the Velaris skyline. He takes to the air with a speed driven by the need for counsel. For understanding the newly realized bond weighing on him with a mix of awe and anxiety.

He lands at the House of Wind with an intensity that is uncharacteristic for him. His feet touching down on the stone with a thud. There's no time for hesitation as he makes his way to where he knows he'll find Rhysand, perhaps Cassian too. The door to the study bursts open under his force and he stands there as a figure riddled with the shock of his own heart's awakening.

Inside the study, Rhysand and Cassian pause mid-conversation as the unexpected clamor announces Azriel's approach. Concern flickers over their faces. A stark, thunderous arrival is not Azriel's way.

"Are you alright, Az?" Cassian is the first to react. His voice tinged with concern as he notes Azriel's agitated state.

Azriel pauses before catching his breath. His demeanor one of a man grappling with overwhelming news. "It's the mating bond," he manages to say with his voice tight of emotion. "With Y/N—it just... it just snapped into place."

Rhysand rises from his chair. His expression shifting to one of understanding as he processes Azriel's words. The air in the room thickens with the significance of his declaration and there's a moment of collective stillness as they all absorb the meaning.

Cassian’s previous levity fades into a solemn gravity, reflecting the seriousness of Azriel's revelation. "That’s... big news, Az. How are you feeling about this?" he asks as he stepped closer in caution.

Rhysand, maintaining his composure, offers a supportive nod. "This is a momentous time, Azriel. We’re here for you, whatever you need," he assures him embodying the role of the leader who understands the profound implications of such a bond.

Azriel exhales deeply the reality of the situation settling in. "It's overwhelming," he concedes. A frown creasing his brow. "I mean, I hoped, maybe even wished for it. But now that it’s here, it feels... heavy." He looks up. His expression serious. "She’s still healing. I need to be careful. Need to make sure this doesn’t overwhelm her."

Rhysand gives a supportive nod. "Just keep being there for her, Az. You’ve always managed to support her without pushing. This doesn’t change your approach just your understanding of the connection."

Cassian smirks, pushing off from the table and clapping Azriel on the back with a bit more force than necessary. "Look at you all serious and broody—more than usual, I mean. Come on, Az, you know you're probably the only one who can handle this with the perfect blend of mystery. Besides," he adds with a wry grin, "have you seen the way she looks at you when you're not looking? That’s not just gratitude my friend. It’s like she’s hit the jackpot and she doesn’t even know it yet."

Azriel can’t help but crack a small smile despite the turmoil inside. "Thanks, Cass. I just don’t want to mess this up."

"Don’t worry so much, brother," Cassian chuckles, his tone light but earnest. "You’re doing fine. Plus, if you start floating around like a lovestruck bat, I’ll be here to pull you back down."

Rhysand laughs softly before shaking his head at the general. "He’s right, though. Take it step by step, Azriel. Let her come to terms with her own feelings. When she’s ready it’ll be right for both of you."

Feeling somewhat lighter Azriel nods appreciatively at his brothers. "Step by step," he repeats, firming his resolve. With a final nod he steps back into the night bolstered by the mix of Cassian’s humor and Rhysand’s leadership. He was ready to face the future with a heart full of hope and a mind cautious of the delicate balance he needs to maintain.

Back in the townhouse Feyre greets you with that mischievous grin that heralds some sisterly teasing. She sets her paintbrush down before wiping her hands on a cloth as her eyes sparkle with playful curiosity. "So, what did you do to him?" she teases with a smirk on her face.

You frown genuinely puzzled by her question. "What? Nothing, I... we were just training, then he said he had to go." Your voice trails off mirroring your confusion over Azriel's sudden change in demeanor.

Feyre chuckles, shaking her head as she picks up her brush again. "That man is always so mysterious. But don't worry it's probably just Azriel things. Or maybe, just maybe, you're the perfect distraction for our dear spymaster."

"What are you on about?" you ask while feeling a mix of amusement and bewilderment at her jest.

"Oh, please!" Feyre laughs, her brush dancing over the canvas. "He looks at you like every moment you spend together is something precious. Like you're a rare painting he can't quite believe he's stumbled upon."

"You're imagining things," you dismiss her. Shaking your head with a smile. "Azriel is just being kind. He's like that with everyone."

Feyre gives you a knowing look. Her smirk broadening. "Sure, he’s kind to everyone, but with you it’s different. He doesn’t look at anyone else quite like he looks at you. Like you’ve cast a spell on him and he’s trying to figure out how to live with the enchantment."

Her words make you pause. The playful insinuation tugging at the edges of your thoughts. Despite your dismissal Feyre’s observation lingers. A teasing possibility that maybe there's a hint of truth in her playful assertions. The room fills with your laughter, a sound that masks the flutter of curiosity her words have sparked.

Unbeknownst to you while you puzzle over Azriel's sudden departure, Feyre's mind is swiftly connecting with Rhysand's. A silent inquiry flits through their bond: Something's up with Azriel, he seemed... off. Did I miss something?

Rhysand's mental response comes with a chuckle that Feyre can almost hear: He’s fine, love. Just had a bit of a revelation. He’ll share when he's ready.

A spark of mischief lights up Feyre’s eyes as understanding dawns on her. Her lips curve into a sly, knowing grin. But she carefully masks any hint of her newfound knowledge from you. "You know, I think we deserve some fun today. Just us twins. You’ve been pushing hard with all that training and brooding," she suggests. Her voice bubbling with an excitement that piques your curiosity.

"Really? What did you have in mind?" you ask. Your earlier confusion over Azriel's behavior giving way to intrigue at Feyre's sudden enthusiasm.

"Oh, just a day for us to unwind and maybe get into a little mischief," Feyre replies, winking. "We can leave the mysteries of shadowy spymasters behind and focus on spoiling ourselves."

You laugh while nodding in agreement, relieved to set aside the morning's puzzles. "That sounds perfect, actually."

As the day unfolds with Feyre leading the way with her occasional secretive smiles and the warmth of her company envelop you, making you feel cherished and a part of something larger than just sisterly bonding. Every now and then she throws you a look filled with unspoken laughter as if she's in on a joke that’s yet to be told adding an intriguing layer to your day out.

"Enjoy today," Feyre says at one point. Her grin infectious. "Because who knows? Tomorrow you might find yourself swept off your feet in ways you never expected." Her words are light, but they dance with implication, leaving you wondering about the possibilities that tomorrow might bring.

As the days unfold since your training session you begin to notice an unusual shift in Azriel's behavior when he's around you. Always the quiet, stoic presence, he now seems to carry an air of nervousness that is both surprising and endearing. It's as if he's forgotten how to be around you. His typically smooth demeanor replaced with an awkwardness that sends a ripple of amusement throughout your days.

During your daily routines, whether you're practicing combat skills or just strolling through the lush gardens of the Night Court, Azriel is consistently by your side. Yet, his typical quiet confidence seems to falter. Today when he hands you a training sword his fingers not only linger but also tremble slightly against yours. The contact is brief but the moment his skin brushes against yours a visible blush creeps up his neck coloring his cheeks in a rare show of discomposure.

"Sorry," he stutters. Quickly retracting his hand as if scorched by the brief contact. He averts his gaze making sure to look anywhere but at you. His discomfort palpable in the tight set of his shoulders.

You can't help but tilt your head eyeing him with a mixture of concern and curiosity. "Azriel, are you alright?" you ask with a hint of a smile on your lips. Your voice is soft though hoping to ease some of his evident tension. The gardens around you bloom vibrantly. A stark contrast to Azriel’s suddenly flustered state.

He clears his throat attempting to regain some of his usual composure. "Yes, I'm... fine," he manages. His voice a notch higher than usual. He meets your gaze again holding it for a moment longer than he intends. The intensity of his stare both confusing and thrilling.

Just then as if to spite Azriel, Cassian strolls by and upon noticing Azriel's flushed face and your puzzled expression he can't help but let out a snicker. "Lost your cool, Shadowsinger?" he teases, winking at you before continuing on his way with a chuckle. "You’re usually smoother than this, brother!"

Azriel shoots Cassian a brief glare but there's a resigned humor in his eyes that suggests he knows just how out of character he must seem. As Cassian’s laughter fades into the distance Azriel finally turns back to you attempting a sheepish smile.

"It seems I'm a bit out of sorts today," he admits. His voice finally steadying. "Nothing to worry about, really."

Watching Azriel grapple with this uncharacteristic awkwardness only endears him more to you. There’s a sweetness in his struggle. A reminder that beneath the composed façade of the Night Court’s spymaster lies a depth of emotion rarely seen but profoundly felt.

On a tranquil afternoon in the Night Court, you find yourself relaxing in one of the quieter gardens alongside Feyre, Rhys, and Azriel. The air is filled with gentle laughter and the soft rustling of leaves. Cassian and Nesta are notably absent, presumably because Cassian has taken it upon himself to "help" Nesta with some errands—a pursuit that everyone knows often ends in playful bickering and affectionate banter.

Elain has also opted for a day out with Lucien exploring new botanical gardens on the outskirts of the city. Her passion for plants and Lucien's support in her endeavors showcases the growing bond between them.

The conversation flows easily until Rhys, with a mischievous sparkle in his eyes, steers it towards Azriel’s recent scouting mission. "Azriel here stumbled upon something quite intriguing recently, didn’t you?" he teases while watching Azriel closely.

Caught off-guard Azriel’s response is delayed, his eyes widening slightly as if Rhys had tread into forbidden territory. "It was nothing out of the ordinary," he finally mutters. Though his voice holds a trace of unease.

Feyre jumps into the fray. Her tone laced with playful curiosity. "Oh, but I heard it was quite the discovery. Rare and fascinating… something that might deeply engage a man’s interest."

You laugh completely oblivious to the underlying meaning and look at Azriel with raised eyebrows. "What was it, Az? Some kind of hidden gem or a lost artifact?"

There’s a brief moment where Azriel’s composure falters under your direct gaze, his eyes meeting yours before quickly glancing away. He recovers quickly, however, a slight flush on his cheeks. "Yes, something like that," he agrees, his voice steadying. "A discovery that could indeed change one’s perspective for a lifetime."

Rhys doesn't miss a beat adding with a light chuckle, "Let’s hope it’s not kept secret too long. Such treasures are better when shared, right?"

Feyre nods enthusiastically. Her eyes dancing with amusement. "Especially when they bring people closer together, right, Az?"

Azriel meets Feyre’s gaze. His expression settling into a subtle smile that hints at his deep thoughts. “Indeed,” he replies quietly, the single word rich with unspoken meaning, affirming the sentiment with his usual succinct eloquence.

As the conversation moves on the jokes and laughter continue, your heart warmed by the newfound perspective you found with them. Azriel watches you with a gentle, albeit slightly wistful smile. He noticed how much more you're around, how your laughter fills the air more often, and how your vibrant personality begins to shine through once more. His heart fills with a mixture of relief and deep affection, seeing the signs of your healing. In these moments he cherishes the progress you've made feeling hopeful about the future. He was ready to support you every step of the way as the true nature of his discovery waits to be shared with you.

As the weeks blend into months, the connection between you and Azriel deepens. It was nurtured by shared moments and his unwavering support. On a crisp evening as the sun begins its descent painting the sky with strokes of pink and gold, Azriel brings you to a secluded hilltop that overlooks Velaris. This spot was known only to him and offers a panoramic view of the city as it starts to twinkle with the first lights of evening, the natural grassy surface underfoot soft and inviting.

Standing close by his presence was both comforting and solid, Azriel shares a story, his voice low and warm, recounting a humorous mishap from his early days as a spymaster. The tale is endearing, revealing a less guarded side of him and laughter bubbles up freely from your throat.

As your laughter transitions into a soft chuckle, you turn to face him. The last rays of the sunset bathe Azriel in a warm, golden light that illuminates his features, casting a glow that outlines him like an ethereal halo. His eyes that were filled with affection and a hint of amusement, meet yours. In that instant something profound shifts within you.

It feels as if a key has turned, unlocking something wondrous and overwhelming. The mating bond, which has been delicately weaving its way through each of your interactions, now clicks into place with perfect clarity. The sensation is electrifying yet profoundly comforting. Resonating through your very being.

Your breath catches and your heart races—not just from the shock of the realization but from the undeniable rightness that surges through you. Azriel, noticing the subtle transformation in your expression halts his story. A flicker of concern crossing his face.

"Are you okay?" he asks with his voice tinged with worry. The humor from his story now replaced by attentive care.

A mix of joy and amazement washes over you as you feel a comforting swirl of his shadows around your feet. Like curious creatures affirming this new connection. "Azriel, I think... I think the mating bond just…," you trailed off unsure how to continue. Your voice was filled with awe. The realization brings a new depth to your smile as you meet his gaze which is now shimmering with a mixture of relief and happiness.

"That's what I've been feeling," Azriel breathes out, a tender smile spreading across his face as he steps closer. He reaches out gently brushing a stray lock of hair from your face. "I've been waiting, hoping you would feel it too when the time was right."

Taking his hand, you feel a warmth that goes beyond physical touch. A connection that seeps into the depths of your soul. "I’m glad it’s you," you say quietly, sincerely, the words flowing easily.

Azriel’s other hand comes up to gently cup your cheek. His touch feather light. "And I’m honored it’s you," he responds. His gaze locked with yours. The world around you—the city lights, the soft whisper of the evening breeze—fades into a gentle backdrop to the profound connection you share.

In this moment with Azriel’s shadows dancing around, playful, and protective, you feel a sense of completeness. A promise of endless possibilities. Together, bonded not just by fate but by a mutual understanding you know that whatever the future holds you'll get to navigate it side by side.

As the realization of the mating bond settles between you, Azriel's shadows seem to take on a life of their own. They swirled around you both with a newfound enthusiasm. The delicate tendrils of darkness weave around your legs and occasionally brush against your hands as if testing and reinforcing the connection that has just been acknowledged.

Azriel watches with a tender amusement as his shadows interact with you, their movements more animated than usual. "They seem to have taken quite a liking to you," he comments. His voice warm with affection and a hint of pride. "They're not usually this... attentive."

As the shadows continue their gentle dance around you, one particularly daring tendril snakes up your arm, its touch lighter than a feather. You can't help but laugh. The sound echoing softly in the quiet of the evening. With a delighted grin you reach out to trace the path of the shadow with your fingertips, marveling at the cool, tingling sensation it leaves on your skin.

Azriel continues watching with an affectionate roll of his eyes accompanying his half-smirk. "You're going to spoil them," he teases. His tone light but full of warmth.

Encouraged by your positive reaction another shadow playfully darts forward and mimics the motion of a gentle kiss on your cheek. You giggle with joy, your hand touching the spot in mock surprise and then you're both laughing. A shared moment of joy and wonder at the peculiar yet endearing behavior of the shadows.

Azriel shakes his head, but his eyes shine with amusement. "Now you've done it. They're going to expect this king of attention all the time," he jokes as the shadows around him swirled in what you swear could be shadowy laughter.

"You know, I think I'm okay with that," you respond still smiling as you watch the shadows retreat slightly, as if bashful from the attention. "They're quite charming. Just like someone else I know." You glance up at Azriel with a playful smirk. Enjoying the light flush that colors his cheeks at the compliment.

The shadows, seemingly pleased with their role in this light-hearted exchange, settle more calmly around you both like a contented sigh after a bout of laughter. The protective circle they form feels like a gentle embrace not just from Azriel but from all parts of him.

As the laughter fades Azriel's expression turns tender, his gaze softening as he searches your face looking for any sign of unease. "But seriously," he says with his voice low and earnest, "are you really okay?" His concern is palpable. The bond between you making every emotion, every nuance of feeling that much more intense and meaningful.

You meet his gaze feeling a surge of warmth from his sincere concern. Smiling gently, you nod, the tranquility of the moment filling you with a profound sense of peace. "I really am okay. For the first time in a long time," you admit. Your voice steady and sure. The confession feels like a significant acknowledgment of the journey you've been on and the role Azriel, and his shadows, have played in it.

Azriel's smile in response is radiant. A look of relief and happiness that brightens his entire demeanor. "That's all I’ve ever wanted to hear," he murmurs. His voice soft with emotion. He stands closer, his hand gently squeezing yours. "Come on, love," he whispers with a twinkle in his eyes. "Let's fly home."

With a graceful motion Azriel unfurls his expansive wings, the dark feathers shimmering under the starlight. The sight never fails to take your breath away. He wraps an arm securely around your waist, his touch reassuring. "Ready?" he asks. His voice a low rumble filled with excitement and anticipation.

With a nod you cling to him, feeling the rush of air as he leaps into the sky. Velaris unfolds below you. It was a gorgeous tapestry of lights and shadows. The wind was cool and exhilarating against your face. Flying with Azriel, held close against his chest, the city sprawling beneath you is an experience that feels as if it straddles the line between dream and reality.

The flight is swift and smooth. The quiet only broken by the rushing wind and the steady beat of Azriel's powerful wings. The world seems to shrink away, leaving only the two of you soaring through the night sky. As the House of Wind comes into view Azriel’s descent is gentle, a reminder of his skill and care for you.

You land softly on the balcony, the cool night breeze playing around you, still wrapped in the warmth of his embrace. Just as you touch down the laughter and lively banter of the Inner Circle reach your ears from inside.

As you and Azriel step through the grand doors of the House of Wind the lively atmosphere of the Inner Circle greets you. Cassian's booming voice fills the foyer as he spots you descending from the balcony. "Finally decided to join us, huh? Or were you two plotting to take over Velaris with your love-struck scheming?" he teases, winking not so conspicuously.

Rhysand joins in with a sly grin. His eyes twinkling with mischief. "I think they were busy weaving shadows and starlight. Look how they landed, like a pair of night-blooming flowers." His voice was laden with humor and draws a round of chuckles from around the room.

Feyre, Nesta, and Elain watch from the side, their expressions varying degrees of amusement and affection. Feyre's eyes meet yours and she gives you an approving nod. Her smile suggesting she understands more than she lets on. Nesta’s smirk is more enigmatic but supportive while Elain’s gentle gaze is filled with romantic delight at the scene unfolding before her.

Amid the teasing Azriel keeps you close, his arm remaining protectively around your waist. The warmth of his embrace reassures you. His presence a calming force against the good-natured ribbing. "Ignore them," he murmurs softly against your ear, just loud enough for you to hear over the laughter. His voice is rich with affection and a hint of playfulness that only you are privy to.

"You make it sound so easy," you whisper back, unable to suppress a smile feeling buoyed by the love filling the room.

As the evening progresses the light banter continues, with everyone occasionally casting teasing glances your way, making playful comments about the inseparable duo you and Azriel have become. Despite the jests there’s an underlying current of genuine happiness for you both. A celebration of the deepening bond that everyone seems to recognize and respect.

The night unfolds with shared stories, laughter, and an occasional clinking of glasses in toasts, not just to the night but to new beginnings and magical connections. As you stand by Azriel’s side, surrounded by friends who are more like family. You feel a profound sense of belonging and happiness. Here in the heart of the Night Court, under the watchful eyes of the stars and the soft glow of the city, you are home—not just in place, but in heart, bound by love, laughter, and the eternal dance of shadows and light.

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jazzyoranges · 1 day

Text

Late nights - drabble

Tara Carpenter x fem!reader

Summary: sorry anon, i accidentally deleted the request 😓 but they asked for me to write a fic with tara in fem!reader’s hoodie (aka cuddly tara strikes again)

Words: 0.9k

A/n: hopefully a lil something to get me out of my writing slump. let’s hope this isn’t too bad considering i haven’t written in a few months 😅

You really didn’t mean to be out for so long

First your boss asks you to do one favor, then another, and next thing you know you’re at work for 4 hours more than you’re supposed to be. The asshole didn’t even pay you for all the extra shit you did! You made a mental note to go job hunting this week.

Maybe the gay club was looking for a stripper? Nah. Your girlfriend would get jealous

So you were angry. Angry about your paycheck

Next a few storm clouds roll up that night. Of course you forget to bring your rain jacket that day. Not to mention, rain feels like hail stones when you’re on your motorcycle. Apparently it’d be a cold day in hell before you dressed right for the weather

So along with being angry, you were cold and wet. Shitty might’ve been the lightest way you could’ve described your day

At least you could come home to your wonderful girlfriend in an apartment of your own. It took lots of convincing and hundreds of game nights to convince Sam to even accept the idea of you and Tara being alone together. Fortunately you were blessed with patience and homosexuality — two things that could withstand Sam’s will to protect her sister

Was the older Carpenter’s place on the floor right above you and Tara’s?

…

Yes. Yes it was.

But if it made your girlfriend and her sister happy, you had no reason to not be as well. Other than the elevator that never fucking worked but that was out of their hands

Your shirt and hair were absolutely soaked in rainwater by the time you reached your apartment door. The was a small trail of water behind you from where you walked but that might’ve been the least of your concerns. Fishing around in your damp pants for your keys, you fortunately find them without much effort

Opening the door with as little energy you can, you lock the door behind you and triple check you locked it just like Sam told you

Not wasting any time you slide off your wet shirt in the middle of your living room, throwing it on a chair and missing the younger Carpenter waiting on the couch for you half asleep

“Baby?” Tara rubs her eyes. You stand in the middle of your hallway like a deer in headlights. You were awfully vulnerable while wet and almost naked. Who knew.

Before you can respond, there’s shuffling behind you then something weighted and warm on your back. Tara’s leaning into you with her arms around your torso while you’re wet and almost naked in the middle of your hallway. What a sight.

“Why were you so late? You’re working tonight…” Your girlfriend’s hand dips a bit below your waistband and you have to resist the urge to shiver. From the cold? From Tara? Only god knew

“My boss had me do extra shit. I’ll find a different job that doesn’t have me out so late” You turn around to face Tara while her arms were still around you “I promise”

The younger Carpenter only hums into your chest without any sign of moving. So you don’t. It gives you the chance to really soak in the moment along with the rainwater on your skin. You only pull away when your girlfriend also starts to shiver

Of course she’s wearing nothing but a hoodie

Specifically, Tara’s wearing nothing but your hoodie

“How long have you been fighting sleep? Go to bed, love” You pick up your girlfriend with her legs wrapped around your waist and her arms loosely thrown around your neck

“Since you decided you hated me” Tara mumbles into your shoulder

“When was that?”

“When you didn’t come home on time”

“And I gave you a reason why I was late”

“Which doesn’t excuse you, because you could’ve hurried up” Tara plays with your bra strap as you stop walking toward your shared bedroom

“What I’m hearing is, you don’t want to take a late night shower with me? Even after a long day of work, where you could help me de-stress?” You say with a certain smugness in your voice

Your girlfriend whips her head up at your offer but you’ve already made it to your shared bed, not wasting a second to plop her down

“Waitbabypleaseididn’tmeanit-“ You’re already in the bathroom as Tara’s trying to scramble to you

“What? Sorry, love! Can’t hear you over the shower”

You had a childhood cat that always followed you around when you were younger. Tara reminded you of when your cat would scratch at the door whenever you went to the bathroom. Your girlfriend even had the scratching down just like your cat

When you were about to hop in the bath for a quick shower, something stops you from getting in. The imagery alone that Tara is probably leaning against the door waiting for you to get out is enough to pull at your heartstrings

You weren’t mean. You missed Tara as much as she missed you. It’s why she always wore your hoodies and you always took her shirts that fit you

So against your better judgment and the water bill you’re going to have to take Advil for, you unlock the bathroom door but you don’t open it

You’re both in the shower and you’re in Tara less than a second later

#jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega #tara carpenter x reader #tara carpenter #scream #scream 6 #tara carpenter scream #sam carpenter

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drudyslut · 3 days

Note

Your requests are open again! Also this says rafe but you can change it to jj if you want!

Anyways...Reader and rafe are dating and reader has birth control but still gets nervous it won’t work so they use condoms and they both want to be closer together/not have a condom between them (but do not want to risk it), so reader suggests him practicing pulling out (while wearing a condom) and after a few times he is able to control himself, so reader says she does not want to use a condom if he is okay with not using one so it is kind of romantic and their first time with nothing between them and they feel closer and more intimate, but when he is about to pull out reader says it feels too good and tells him not to and so rafe is like “I’m gonna cum, I can’t hold it baby” and practically begs him to just cum inside (and he is like what? Are you sure?) and reader is like “I don’t care. Don’t pull out”

omfffffg. this is hot🤤 also, i did switch it to jj, hope that’s fr okay🥺🫶🏻 this just gives jj vibes bc rafe be fuckin’ without a condom no matter what, man does not gaf.

CW: 18+ only! strong language, fem receiving oral, protected sex, eventual unprotected sex, cream pie, praise and degrading.

“J, I’ve told you, let’s just practice your pulling out with a condom, and then I promise, once you can control yourself, we’ll go raw.”

You want to feel closer to him, feel all of him, as much as he does you. And even though you’ve been on birth control since the two of you started dating — two years — you’re too afraid it won’t be effective.

And the last thing you and JJ need is a baby. You’re not financially in a spot to support a child, so for now, you continue using the protective barrier.

JJ sighs. “You’re right, baby.”

You can’t help but frown. You understand how frustrated he is, you’re just as frustrated, but you’re just doing what you feel is best. You want to feel JJ raw, but you just cannot risk it right now.

“Wanna practice now?” You ask with a smirk on your lips.

JJ grins widely, showcasing his perfectly straight, white teeth. “Absolutely I do.”

He walks toward you, his large hands grabbing your thighs and lifting you up. You wrap your legs around his waist, giggling when he slaps at your ass. “‘M gonna enjoy fucking you, taking out my frustration on you. Once I get my control, ‘m taking this sweet fucking pussy raw.”

The two of you reach his bedroom in the chateau, and he tosses you onto the bed, making you squeal and giggle uncontrollably. “Fuck me, JJ. Take your frustrations out on me. I can’t wait to feel all of you, so learn control fast.”

It’s been two weeks of you and JJ practicing his pulling out with a condom on. He’s finally ready, he finally gets pulled out perfectly, and you know he’s going to come to you soon about going raw.

“Baby, c’mon. I wanna taste you.”

You smile, taking a bite of the apple you’d grabbed out of the fruit bowl. “Mmm, I dunno baby. ‘M not really in the mood.” You joke.

JJ’s eyes narrow. He takes two long steps toward you, making you step back. Your back presses into the counter behind you, and his arms come to rest on the counter on either side of you, caging you in. He lifts his right hand, running it down the side of your face before he knocks your apple into the floor, making you gasp.

“I was eating that!”

He runs his hands down your sides, resting them on your hips. He tightly grips at your waist, lifting you and resting your ass on the countertop. “So? I wanna eat now. I’m starved baby.”

You suck in a sharp breath when his fingers find your exposed thighs, running them up slowly until they disappear under the soft fabric of your dress.

His fingers find your panties, running over the soaked material. “She’s already wet for me baby. Begging for my tongue and cock.”

Your hips buck off the counter, and a moan escapes your lips. He pulls your ass to the edge of the counter, and you place your hands behind you, supporting your weight and keeping yourself from falling.

He drops to a squatting position, tossing your legs over his shoulders and pushing your panties to the side. He runs his index finger through your arousal soaked core, gathering your arousal on his finger before removing it and bringing it to his lips, humming in approval. “Hmmm. So fuckin’ sweet, always baby. Like fucking honey.”

You moan loudly at the sound of his low and raspy voice, the dirty words making your pussy wetter.

“Shit! Stop teasing, J.”

He smirks, leaning his head forward and sinking his teeth into your inner thigh, making sure to leave marks. “J, please?” You beg, the feel of his tongue running over your inner thighs, licking over the fresh teeth marks, has you squirming.

“Such a needy little slut for me.”

He runs his tongue through your slick folds, slowly licking you from your entrance to your clit. Your entire body jerks when the tip of his tongue licks over your sensitive bud.

JJ’s tongue pushes inside your entrance, teasing you as he rubs lazy circles around your clit. He flattens his tongue, his head moving up and down as he devours your pussy. He pulls his head back, shoving two fingers inside you and sucking your clit into his mouth. He licks and sucks at your clit, fingers harshly pushing in and out of you until he has your entire body shaking.

“JJ-” you breathe out. “Fuck me, please”

He slows his fingers, letting your clit fall from his mouth with a pop. He removes your legs from his shoulders, standing to his full height and popping the button on his jeans, his zipper following quickly behind.

You stare down at his hard cock through your lashes, his right hand firmly gripping the base. He strokes himself softly a few times before he teases his head at your entrance. Your heart hammers in your chest, you’re about to feel all of him for the first time, and him feel all of you.

You let out a small whimper when he pushes his head inside. “Fuck, already feels s’much better baby girl, goddamn.”

He slowly sinks more of himself inside you, pushing each inch inside little by little until he fills you to the hilt. A loud moan is ripped from your chest when his swollen tip hits that spot inside you that has you seeing stars.

JJ doesn’t move, his eyes squeezed shut as he focuses on the feel of your warm, wet pussy wrapped around him. “Fuck, baby. This pussy feels even better than I imagined, so wet and warm, gripping my cock like she was made for me.”

He begins to slowly pull himself out, his eyes watching in awe at how tightly your pussy gripped him, a creamy ring already formed around his cock.

You whimper as he slowly pulls himself from inside you, missing the feel of his thick cock inside you once he fully pulls out. You open your mouth to beg him to put it back in, but he’s harshly slamming back into you before the words come out, making you cry out his name as his tip nudges against your g-spot.

“F-fuck.. JJ, you feel so fucking good, so b-big! Oh, my God.”

JJ’s hands grip your hips tightly, fingers digging into your soft, plump flesh as he brutally pounds himself into you. “Such a good fucking girl, taking my dick so well, look at how she grips my cock baby. All fuckin’ mine!” he grunts out breathlessly.

Your eyes wander down to where the two of you connect, your eyes rolling into the back of your head, pussy clenching around him tightly from how good it feels to finally feel all of him.

“J-JJ! Fuck, ‘m gonna… ‘M gonna cum! Go harder, please!” you beg, your hands finding his upper arms and gripping at them so hard you feel the skin break beneath your nails.

Your pleas for him to fuck you harder spur him on, his large hands gripping the underside of your ass and lifting you from the countertop. He stills himself inside you, steadying himself and making sure his hold on you is secure before he begins fucking up into you harder, faster.

The room is filled with the lewd squelching of your pussy, skin slapping against skin, and you and JJ’s moans mixing together. Your pussy tightens around him, a sweet tightness building in your lower belly as your orgasm nears. JJ can sense you’re close, his darkened over blue eyes finding yours, “Let go f’me baby. Make a fucking mess all over my cock, wanna feel you come undone around me.”

JJ’s words mixed with his harsh thrusts send you flying off the edge. Your pussy tightens, stars exploding behind your eyes as you come hard, soaking JJ’s cock and thighs. “Fuck! JJ, don’t stop, don’t… Don’t fucking stop!”

“‘M close, princess, gotta… Gotta pull out.” JJ says breathlessly.

You wrap your legs tightly around his waist, burying your face into his neck as your lips attack the skin with bites and kisses. “No! Don’t, don’t pull out, J. Just… Just keep going, shit!”

JJ’s mind goes foggy, hearing you beg him not to pull out was the hottest thing he’d ever heard, and honestly, he didn’t want to pull out, you felt too fucking good to stop. Sure, neither of you were thinking clearly, and he’d definitely have to find the money to buy you a plan B, but it was going to be worth it, to fill your pussy with his cum and watch it drip from your pussy.. Yeah, it was worth it.

His hips begin stuttering, his dick twitching as he thrusts himself up into you a few more times. He feels his dick swell inside you, twitching one final time before the hot ropes of his release spill inside you.

“Ffffuck, baby.” JJ groans, thrusting up one final time.

He sits you back onto the counter, slowly pulling himself from inside you and watching in awe as his thick, white cum leaks from your sensitive hole.

He grins, leaning forward and kissing your lips. “So beautiful when you’re dripping my cum.”

You let out a breathless giggle, your head falling forward as you whisper, “That was worth the wait.. We’re never going back to condoms, ever. ‘Kay?”

jj taglist: @ivy-34 @thelomlisrafecameron @writingjjfics @always-reading @harrys-humble-housewife @maybankspov @immyowndefender @jjmaybankswifes-blog @lizcameron @moremaybank @thatsthewaythechrissycrumbles @thewitchesofart @unsaidjaelinrose @itsmytimetoodream @abbybarnesstuff @r1vrsefx @rafetopia @jade-is-jaded @lexasaurs634 @drewstarkeyslut @presleyanswrites @carma-fanficaddict @rafescokenostril @madzzz0797 @slytherhoes @jscameron @jjsmarijuana @ijustwanttoreadlols @luversgirl @skyesthebomb @nirvanaissogood @mxlti-fand0m-imaginess @superlegend216 @redhead1180 @crgirlsworld @atorturedpoetx @maybankslover @cantstoptherecs @anqeliclust @ratatioulle @pradabambie @biggesthat3r @wearemadeofstardust0 @everydaydreamer @amournoir @romaescapes @tayrcse @andy-15-07 @rafescurtainbangz @joemama352

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#jj maybank #obx jj maybank #jj maybank smut #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank request #jj maybank x you #jj maybank fanfiction #jj maybank brainrot #jj maybank fic #jj maybank one shot #jj smut #obx jj #jj x you #jj maybank x reader

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rockingbytheseaside · 20 hours

Text

✦ How they hold you in bed when sleeping

Pierro, Capitano, Dottore, Scaramouche, Pantalone, Tartaglia (separate)

When the stars are perched in the night sky, and the world becomes wrapped in a still blanket of darkness - there is no better action than departing to your safe space, the coziness of your bedroom, and the safety of your beloved’s body next to you. The lights are dimmed and after a warm shower and a change into comfy pajamas, your beloved is met with a tender sight of your sleepy figure. It is time for rest, and with his arms open, beckoning you to hop into his embrace - you join him in bed at last.

✧ A single glance from Pierro and his eyes would instantly soften upon seeing your sleepy expression. The Director of the Fatui doesn’t require any questions or even verbal communication to know that something is troubling you. Your solemn gaze and slumped shoulders tell him more than enough - and his heart aches in response. Silently but gently, he pulls you closer, his star-shaped pupils seeking answers from your own.

“My divine one... A long day?” - he whispers, his hand lifting your chin to make you look at him. You don’t directly respond, but nod and press your lips into a thin line. Pierro sighs, yearning to vanquish all your worries and pain. But sometimes, words are superfluous.

“Do not fret your little heart. No harm shall come, for I am here, my divine. Shall I take you to bed, instead?”

With a small nod and a timid glance from you, Pierro spoke no further. He knew what you required on such solemn nights as these, and instead, allowed his arms to pick you up, carrying your fatigued figure in his bigger embrace. He pulled you closer, his cheek gently grazing your face as he whispered soothing words and brought you to bed.

He tucked you in, the king-sized bed bringing the familiar sensation of silky sheets and warm covers. He kisses your forehead with careful and slow deliberation before accompanying you to sleep.

When Pierro sleeps beside you, he is often silent, but his gaze never leaves your figure. He’d lay on his side, gazing at your face as if it were the stars and the moon itself. Even within the dimness of the room, he has memorized the outline of your face, the soothing rhythm of your breathing, the contour of your figure. With one hand around you, you two slept peacefully, the troubles of the world left behind. Even the Fatui’s Director required solace, and this solace he would locate only in your tender arms; his sanctuary.

✧ Il Capitano has memorized your routine. Take a shower, get ready for bed, and most importantly, sleep on top of him as if his body were a sturdy mattress. It’s not your fault your cherished is so much taller and bigger, right? Well luckily for you, he absolutely adores it when you climb on top of him, resting your head on top of his chest and legs around his hips. Your smaller figure clad tight around him like a loving weighted blanket while he slept on his back. His hands would gladly squeeze you, loving your softness against his toned physique.

“You don’t mind my weight on top of you, Cappy?” - you’d often ask every night before bed, peeking at him with that tender worry that made the Harbinger melt in an instant. Capitano would continue to hold you, his sharp fingers tracing circles gently on your hips or your back.

“Dearest, I have carried heavier weights that quadruple you in size. If you were to bother me, would I be pulling you back to my arms whenever you toss and turn?”

And thus, with the seal of approval from the honorable Captain, you’d smile triumphantly and sleep on him. That’s just how the two of you were: Capitano was a beast in size, slept still, and barely moved when on his back. Conversely, you were smaller in size, slept very lightly, and often turned or wrestled with the covers. Even when you had the spacious bed to your leisure, you always chose to sleep tightly clinging to him. And Capitano revered every second of it as if it was the biggest honor in his duty as your protector. Truly, an honorable knight protecting your dreams.

✧ Sharing a bed with Il Dottore is a toil. If you managed to miraculously drag him out of his lab, he’d groan and argue that he has important research to do, that your concern for his sleep schedule is ‘childish’. Yet the moment he settles in bed, he becomes a menace to your sanity:

“Are you coming to bed or not?”

“Come here, closer.”

“No, you are pushing around.”

And the cherry on top of it all? He’d stare at you during the entire night, maskless. You know he doesn’t easily fall asleep, even on days when he overexhausted himself in his experiments. So naturally, his method to relax is to press the side of his head tightly against your chest and just remain glued to you with the sound of your heartbeat being his salvation. You’d assume it is an adorable sight… until you’d open your eyes in the middle of the night, only to notice a piercing, red lens just gawking at you. Motionless and still, he just wore that neutral expression while being pressed to your chest.

“...Uh, are you going to just stare at me in the dark?” - you whispered in the dark, to which he won’t even move or change his expression.

“43 beats per minute.”

You blinked sleepily - “... wha-”

“Your heart beats approximately 43 to 50 beats per minute when you sleep. That’s anywhere between 20640 to 24000 beats for 8 hours of sleep.”

It was your turn to gawk at him, albeit in confusion. His nonchalant yet stoic reply told you that he was, indeed, very focused on counting each and every beat of your heart while you slept. He remained pressing his ear to the middle of your chest, arms wrapped around your waist tightly.

“Dottore, have you not slept this entire time…?”

“Shush, stop speaking,” - he whispered more gently, pressing his face into you in a rather touchy manner as if you wouldn’t notice. “I am still counting. Your heart rate is increasing to 81 bpm.”

“If you won’t go to sleep this instance I won’t make any Ajilenakh Cake tomorrow.”

As such, silence dominated the dark bedroom once more. The doctor said no more and settled on hiding his face against your body, not daring to admit that he loved your desserts. And even more, not daring to acknowledge that your heartbeat lulled him to sleep. To deny his infatuation with every beat of your pulse would be a lie, and to deny his longing to physically hold you close would be ignorance. So he settled to silently counting your heartbeat until succumbing to dreamless slumber.

✧ Scaramouche didn’t require sleep. Everyone knew that. Regardless, your persuasion with the 6th knew no bounds as you begged and nagged at him relentlessly to remain beside your bedding. He would audibly scoff and cross his arms at your ridiculous request.

“My body does not need rest for 8-something hours. Why should I even waste such precious time with you while you’re the one unconscious?”

However, no matter how much Scaramouche put up the cold front and rolled his eyes, he wasn’t immune to your ingratiating puppy eyes or gentle tugging whenever you asked something of him. You’d always embrace him from the side, asking him softly to stay a little longer as you depart for the night. He, of course, would refuse and cut your answers short, but his actions told a different story. He was already tucking you in; making sure the futon was neatly laid and the covers warmly wrapped around you while he sat kneeling beside you. He just had to make a fuss first:

“To even insinuate such foolish proposition… You must be truly bored out of your mind.”

You’d only chuckle in response, smiling whenever he made sure your room was tidy and secure for your nightly rest. But even then, you’d reach for his hand, and whisper:

“... Just stay for a while longer. At least until I fall asleep, okay?”

Same scoff. Same attitude. But The Puppeteer never left. He always stayed beside you, despite his arrogant rebuttals that you quickly learned were nothing about. He’d either sit leaning beside you, keeping a silent company, or telling you obscure stories he heard from Inazuma or the Abyss. And at times, Scaramouche would remain kneeling by your futon even after you had fallen asleep.

Your breathing was slow and steady, but he was almost afraid to lean any closer. All bickerings he displayed before were gone, and like a porcelain puppet, Scaramouche would find himself frozen in place, hypnotized by your soothing breathing. He just gazed at you, as if you were a distant star within the dark sky, the palliative breaths emitting from you told him that you were safe. You are here.

And it was from you he learned how gentle breaths are emitted by those deemed “alive”. How your breathing fluctuates in different moments of your life: energetic when happy, hitched when disturbed, and peaceful when asleep. Strangely, this mundane motion of your chest falling and rising worked like a lullaby to Scaramouche.

Alas, he now condemns himself for not caressing your face all these times he watched you sleep. A lonesome Wanderer sat alone, an empty futon beside him. Your familiar presence lacking, and he won’t hear your tranquil breaths. You are not here.

✧ Your dear Pantalone had a fundamental habit before bed. He’d set his glasses aside, hair tied up, and go through his skincare routine right before bed. His hands diligently yet delicately wash all the apprehension and professionalism from his face. But the most important part? Trash talk with you about what happened at his work, while he focused on his reflection in the mirror.

“Could you believe that dear?” - the 9th called out to you from the bathroom, his brows frowning in displeasure. The man continued to cleanse his face. “Those insolent aristocrats offered another bribe under the table, thinking that would change my final statement.”

You responded with a faint “Mhm,” back at him.

“And then! The tasteless bastard dared to ask that some of their reports be delayed because he will pay twice, as long as no one checks for quality control. I mean, the audacity of some of those high-society morons!”

“Right, right” - you murmured faintly from the bedroom.

Pantalone massaged his cheekbones, making sure his face was as affluent as his taste and status. He adjusted his robe, still rambling with the same frustrated passion. “They think that just because they’re doing business with me, negotiating with a high sum of bribes would lead to a guaranteed deal with the Fatui. Ugh.”

This time, there was no response from you. The bedroom was awfully silent, despite the night lamp still shining.

“Honey?” - Pantalone called gently.

Silence. The Regrator stepped out of the bathroom, a curious look on his face, until his eyes spotted you in bed, asleep. His expression immediately softens, all quarrels and gossip forgotten. It seems that his late-night rambles about work have thrilled you so much that you, obviously, dozed off. You didn’t even turn off the lights or get under the covers yet.

Pantalone couldn’t help but smile softly. You two had a long day, anyway. He quietly finished his preparations for bed, changed into comfortable nightwear, and stepped closer to your side. With a delicate touch, he made sure you were tucked in properly, giving you the usual good night kiss on the forehead and tucking your hair away from your face. The man dimmed the lights before he two took his rightful place in bed beside you.

Whatever quarrels troubled his mind now - didn’t matter. What mattered was that he had your comforting presence beside him in bed. As he slowly spooned your sleeping figure, Pantalone let out a sigh of relief, letting his head rest by the crook of your nape. Only then, did the Regrator feel his body go into ease, feeling the tranquil silence settle upon the room. Thus, the two of you slept warmly; Something that Pantalone would never trade for any riches or gold.

✧ Ah yes, Tartaglia, his sweetheart, and their 50,000 Mora five-foot tall Morax plushie. Childe remained lying on his back, his expression far from pleased. Ever since he returned from his mission in Liyue, he gifted you this massive dragon plushie. A plushie that became his mortal enemy. His tormentor. His replacer.

The 11th frequently brought souvenirs back home in Snezhnaya. Liyuan tea sets, Inazuman dresses, or Fontainian gadgets. All for your spoiling, and the joyous smiles from his siblings. One of such missions, he returned home with several cute toys and plushies, just for you and Teucer. He is not beating the “Greatest Toy Seller” allegation anytime soon, but he was certain that the gigantic Morax would be a lovely choice for you.

How naive he was.

The plushie was almost your entire height, yet you held onto it with utter delight when he gave it to you. You hugged and squeezed it with love, finding the fluffy geo archon the cutest thing ever. And thus, here you were. In bed, not hugging your boyfriend, but hugging the massive Morax plushie.

It became a common occurrence. At first, Childe chuckled at your adorable antics whenever you brought his gift with you in bed. But then it became more apparent that you would rather turn your back to him, and just fall asleep while embracing the plushie. Childe swallowed his pride. It’s just a plushie, he bargained with himself. But then he would stare daggers that that innocent, fluffy-looking Morax. How dare it be the one receiving your love, while you adorably squeezed or fell asleep on it.

It should’ve been him!

Therefore, one night, he took matters into his own hands. Tartaglia sat up silently in bed, and by mustering all his skills in stealth, he sneakily pulled the Morax plushie away from your grasp while you slept soundly. He was slow, and careful so as not to wake you up; and boy, tugging that five-foot plush was no easy task. Once it was away from your arms, Childe grinned in triumph… and threw the toy aside. The enemy has been neutralized.

Next step - carefully pulling you closer to him. You were already in deep sleep, so of course, you didn’t feel when your beloved naturally embraced you in bed. Shh, no one will know he was jealous of a silly toy. He was just a concerned boyfriend, who needed to bury his face onto the crown of your head and relish your warmth.

The next morning, you woke up feeling warm and pressed to your dear Ajax, who was particularly cuddly that morning.

“Oh no, how did my Morax plushie fall to the floor?”

“Hm? Oh, you must’ve accidentally tossed it away while you slept, dear.”

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jromanoff · 3 days

Text

Nightmare II R. George

Pairing: Regina George x Reader

Warning(s): bus accident, mentions of trauma and therapy

Authors note: something short and cute for you all :)

Summary: Regina has a nightmare about the accident.

Word count: 1.1k

Regina and Cady burst through the doors of the school’s main entrance, their voices echoing through the hallways. The other students followed them outside, eager to witness the encounter between two of the popular girls at North Shore (and film it, of course). Regina stormed away from the school, still shouting at Cady, when suddenly, a vivid yellow blur hurtled towards her from the periphery of her vision.

Regina shot awake as the bus was about to hit her. She immediately shot upright in bed, breathing heavily. Her forehead covered in a small layer of sweat. Who knew Regina George could sweat?

As Regina felt the weight of the blanket on her lap she knew she was safe, in bed. It was a nightmare- it wasn’t real. Not again.

“Gina?” you spoke sleepily as you woke up due to all the movement from Regina’s side.

“Go back to sleep,” Regina said, her voice slightly trembling. She quickly used the blanket to rid herself of the sweat on her forehead. Tears threatened to fall from her eyes, but Regina wouldn’t let them. She didn’t want to worry her girlfriend.

Rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you turned around in bed to face your girlfriend. Due to the darkness, you could only make out her form sitting upright on the bed as her face was turned away from you. Regina then looked over at you and spoke, “It’s nothing, baby. Just a stupid nightmare. Nothing to worry about.”

You, however, could sense that Regina was more affected by this ‘stupid’ nightmare than she let on. You knew she was trying to keep it together instead of breaking in front of you.

"I know it isn’t nothing, Regina. It's okay to admit when something’s wrong, you know?” you said softly while sitting up and placing a gentle hand on Regina's shoulder. As you looked into Regina's eyes, you could see the tears she was holding back.

Regina's facade cracked for just a moment, her eyes betraying a flicker of uncertainty before she quickly regained her composure. "It was a moment of weakness," Regina spoke dismissively, her tone firm as she tried to reclaim her usual confidence.

Her sudden change of tone left you even more confused. It was suspicious. You wondered what could be bothering Regina so much. Determined to find out, you didn't want to pressure her into telling you. Instead, you hoped she would explain once she calmed down. Her body language suggested she was on high alert at the moment.

“You don’t have to pretend with me, baby. Please tell me what’s wrong.” you said as you rubbed Regina’s shoulder, hoping it would help to ground her.

Regina's dismissive facade crumbled at your words, revealing the vulnerability she was trying so hard to conceal as a single tear fell from her eye. “Okay, maybe my dream did freak me out a little." Regina admitted and sighed. Your heart broke at the sight of your sad and crying girlfriend. She didn’t deserve this.

You wrapped your arms around Regina, pulling her close in a comforting embrace. “It's okay, Regina," you murmured softly. "You don't always have to be tough, or whatever. Everyone has moments when they’re not okay. Even the queen bee. And that’s perfectly fine." you reassured your girlfriend as you felt her tears wetting your shirt.

Regina leaned into the embrace, allowing herself to be vulnerable for just a moment. “I just... I don't like feeling powerless and weak," she confessed, her voice barely above a whisper as you gently wiped away some stray tears from her cheeks.

“You're not powerless or weak, Regina. You're a strong, intelligent and powerful woman. Being vulnerable doesn’t invalidate those qualities." you offered words of reassurance and empowerment to your girlfriend.

Regina let out a shaky breath, grateful for the support of her girlfriend. Right now, she allowed herself to let go of the facade and embrace the comfort of being vulnerable with the person she trusted the most.

Silence engulfed the room as the two of you hugged, Regina’s head resting on your shoulder. Allowing herself to relax in your arms, Regina’s breathing slowly got back to normal.

“I dreamed about the accident,” Regina admitted quietly, breaking the silence. This made you frown, the accident was months ago.

“Is this the first time you had a nightmare about the accident?” you questioned.

Silence followed your question. That gave you everything you needed to know. “It’s not, is it?” you sighed “You need to tell me when these things happen, Regina.” you told her, hugging her a little tighter at this confession. Now that you knew about your girlfriend's nightmares, you were rightfully worried about her.

Regina nodded against your shoulder, a weight lifting from her chest as she finally shared her burden with you. “I’m sorry, I didn’t want to worry you and be a burden to you,” she murmured.

“It’s okay, Gina,” you whispered, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. “I’m here for you, always. You’ll never be a burden to me.”

Regina squeezed you tightly, her gratitude evident in the way she clung onto you like a koala. “Thank you,” she whispered, her voice barely audible in the quiet of the room.

“We should try and get some more sleep, don’t you agree?” you asked Regina, pulling away from the embrace, causing Regina to whine at the loss of contact.

“Will you hold me?” Regina asked, her voice hopeful. As if you’d ever deny her.

“Of course, my love,” you smiled and laid back down on the bed. “C’mon, lay down,” you said, patting your chest.

Regina didn’t hesitate to lay down, snuggling into your chest. She sighed in content as she found a comfortable position on your chest.

“Goodnight, my love,” you murmured softly, feeling her relax against you as you rubbed small circles on her back.

“Goodnight, baby,” Regina replied, her voice laced with warmth and affection.

As you thought about your girlfriend, you realized she probably needed to go to therapy to deal with the trauma of the accident. However, you decided that it was something you'd discuss with her tomorrow. She’d probably refuse, but you were determined to try nonetheless. Until then, you’d try to support her to the best of your ability. Now it was time to get some rest.

It didn’t take long before the two of you dozed off. This time, Regina slept peacefully and dreamed about her girlfriend- and so did you.

#jromanoff fics #regina george fluff #regina george x you #regina george x reader #mean girls x reader #regina george fic #regina george imagines #mean girls imagines #mean girls fanfic

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netherfeildren · 2 days

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Notes On a Virtuous Affair

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader

Summary: One would think this road ends in something virtuous—a greenness so dazzling it hurt the eyes—and not the sort of man waiting in his far out removed solitude.

He was the experienced one, you the innocent. It should have been different. Maybe it should’ve felt different. And yet, there was something in him that made you feel very much the conquering one, you the baptizing one.

Rating: Explicit 18+

Content Warnings: Post outbreak; Jackson Joel Miller; Dom/sub undertones; Rough Sex; Impact Play; Face Slapping; Spanking; PIV sex; Ass Play; Oral Sex (m!receiving); Come Eating; Throat Fucking; Unprotected Sex; Potentially Toxic Dynamics? (haha?); Complicated Feelings; They Love Each Other in Their Own Weird Way, Ok?; Older Man/Younger Woman; Idk What This Is, I Don't Expect You to Either;

A/N: miss you guys, sorry for the disappearing act <3

Word Count: 3.1K

Read on AO3

Notes On a Virtuous Affair

Sunlight spills over everything, and the pastoral green leads you to him.

One would think this road ends in something virtuous—a greenness so dazzling it hurt the eyes—and not the sort of man waiting in his far out removed solitude.

But there’s an incongruity afoot here that only you appreciate.

The secret lies in that there’s a riddle woven through the three miles you pilgrim to see him weekly. The first, a boon, the green lush wasteland, if a thing that’s alive can be wasted. The second, an honesty, I’ll venture this distance for him. The third, a precursor, when your muscles start to tingle, your thighs, hot and itchy, nape, coated in a taste of salt. Your feet crunch along the gravel and dirt, protected by the soft leathered boots inherited from Lucy who’d died last Monday. A good start to the week, with new boots, and a thoughtful gift she’d left you, your friend, when your own shoes were so worn from all the walking you do for him. The end of the world changes death, finds good things within it.

The sun warms the bridge of your nose, and you tip your face up to the too-bright light, trying your hardest to look straight at the intensity of it. He’s very much like this too. Why would you look directly at the sun if not for the hurting it brings? Your palms splayed forward at your sides, the breeze moving through your fingers, and the world is all around you alive in this apocalypse.

Jackson is left further and further behind as you move towards him, and what no one understands, not even Joel Miller himself, is that there is something virtuous about this affair.

“I’m gonna fuck your mouth now,” he says down at you, bare as the day you were born and kneeling before his clothed and towering height. Nothing but the heavy hanging length of his cock is naked for you, the first you’d ever seen in your whole life. If he had his way, the only one you’d ever see for the rest of it. The wide head is slick and glossy, the way it bobs obscenely from his open jeans looking like the weight of it would hurt, the way it juts from the bed of hair at this groin like a threat to you.

You know now, after all his focused training, that it only hurts him when you don’t tend to it as he needs, that it’s only a threat when you fail to do the same. He’s shown you the rules of hurting, in all these months you’ve come your three promised miles to him time after time. Shown you how it comes easy, that of hurting someone you love. A running in place sort of thing. You know all the steps that will come, the exact spot you’ll tread in. The way to propel yourself forward to finally leave that same place, avoid it, if you want.

“Open wider. Won’t fit like that,” he clicks his tongue, voice a burr as he grips his throbbing flesh and with the other too big hand, also like a seeming threat, but not, he gives you a quick, softly stinging slap to the high of your cheekbone. The sound, fast and snapping like his disapproving tongue. You swallow a moan, looking up at him with that look in your eyes you know disturbs him, adoration, letting the hinges of your jaw go loose, saliva pooling beneath the cover of your tongue. “Don’t you want me?” He asks.

And you blink once, moan crossing the bridge to a laugh if your mouth wasn’t stretched wide as it’ll go. He sees it though, skipping water in your eyes and gives that half smile, the mean one, the one that says he has all the answers in the world, knows all the things there are to know, that one you like best. Good girl, and his voice makes no sound, only the shape of the words on his mouth. You haven’t been good enough yet to hear the real thing of them out loud. This tells you that you must apply yourself to the task at hand, making him come.

One heavy tap to the flat of your tongue sticking out for him first, and then he’s slicking that fat head against the surface, giving you the first real taste, salt and musk trickle down the back of your throat and you moan again, eyes screwing shut tight, cunt aching something fierce. Leaking just like the tip of his cock leaks too.

That’s the thing about this thing, the one you see very well and Joel still fails to. The two of you, as disparate as you might seem, are the same in all the basic but most important ways. Too much in common for him to look at in the eye comfortably and still do the things you do.

“Open your throat. Get me hard.” In your head, he calls you baby. In reality, only sometimes, when you’re extra good, does that happen. But in your imagination, where it matters more, he doesn't ask nice, but you are his baby.

He slides back, back, hits the end of your throat, pulls out against the wet heat of your tongue. You keep your jaw wide until you feel him harden entirely, until he stretches his neck back, tendons jumping stark, clench of his jaw fluttering with a choked groan. “Suck me,” your permission to savor him like you need to.

Hands pressed firmly to your bare knees, not digging at your soft wet like you’d like, or pawing at him as you’d like even more, you close your lips around him, cheeks hollowed and suck hard, tonguing at his slit on the pull back so that he’s bearing his teeth at you in a growl and shoving forward again hard, a snarl as the cinch of your tight throat strangles the head of his cock on every one of your swallows. Your eyes water, but he pets softly at the same spot he’d stung earlier with his slap.

A game you used to play with your siblings, who could slap one another harder until the other gave out. It’d taken a while for you to come to the realization, but eventually, you’d realized the memory of it in your mind as it exists now wasn’t innocent the way it should’ve been. That there had been something you’d liked about it in a strange way—that hurting. That the first time you’d asked Joel to play the same game with you, you’d wanted him to slap you other places just as hard until you gave out also.

The games were part of the thing. His own strange rules, like the way you couldn’t touch him sometimes—you dig your bitten down nails into the soft skin of your inner thighs—only when he said it was okay was it allowed. The way you were never allowed to touch your cunt unless he said so also. He had weird things about him, turned strange by the dangerous ways of life. Like the solitude, the house out and away, the begging you had to do for him to have you.

Sameness.

He wraps his fist in your hair, more sting, “Gonna fill your belly with my come, yeah?” His thrusts pick up pace, pulling your head back as far as your neck allows so that he can fuck your throat in full, jaw hanging wide, and you’re just the wet and willing hole you know he sometimes wishes you could always stay as.

The thick cock against your tongue throbs once, twice and then he’s spilling hot and heavy down your open throat, sweet salt against the back of your tongue while you try and breathe through his strangling, tears spilling.

When he pulls back, slipping wet and heavy from your mouth you fall forward onto your palms, breathing fast, almost hyperventilating, stinging with the forced will to remain obedient. Your spine burns beneath your skin and your sore jaw hangs unwillingly open, sloppy mouth dripping a string of semen between your splayed palms.

He crouches before you, dripping cock like your mouth, milked to heavy softness hangs long and sated between his thighs. And he pets your crown, the vulnerable shell of your ear, whole body on fire so that every inch of skin hurts without his touch, hurts worse with it.

“Good girl,” he says now with voice.

The walk seems longer some days. A thousand miles plus an eon instead of merely three. Especially on the days you’re more desperate than usual. The ones when your stomach feels full of sugar for him and the memory taste of his cock is already aching in your molars. Those days your steps are hurried, look in your eyes frenzied to get to him, to escape the things you leave behind. A too full house, your sister’s squalling, teething baby, your little brothers, and too many mouths to feed and not attention to be had, not enough mother for everyone to get loved.

There’s reasons for this game between the two of you, you’d had to come out and find your attention somewhere else.

Your love too.

And if it comes with a sting sometimes, well, so had your mother’s. You like it like this now.

The first time he’d touched your cunt: show me that pretty pussy, baby, and he’d had you from that very first sweet word, you gonna let me finger it? You’d spread wide, leaked into the cup of his palm like a whore, you’d needed to make sure he was for keeping from the first try, you see. So you’d done all he’d said, taken four fingers and only cried a little bit but whined a lot. Been all, hurts, Joel, high pitched and dragging his name out on a puppy whimper.

He’d given you that first lesson in hurt the very first time: Yeah? Supposed to. A real mean man. And then made you gush into that very cupped palm so that he could drink of your sweetness.

The third mile comes to an end, the precursor, over, his house in view. It’s all quiet and slumbering and the long grass pulls you forward with its wind blown sway. The wide door to his shed is propped open, half finished rocking chair up on the workbench that sways with the intruding gust. The grass whispers behind you, the dark woods across the field moan, and he’s nowhere while the Tetons loom in the distance.

You drag your fingers along the slats of his house as you pass, everything is so quiet, like he’d never been here. Like he’d gone and left you the way he’s promised he’d never do. Your belly feels bloated with heat, heart turned into four incongruous chambers that no longer beat in tune, memories of him rioting between each thump. Your cunt goes soft and drooling in your panties as your fear beats higher and higher, and you come to the mouth of the shed, peering into the cool darkness of this little place where he makes his beautiful things. The things that go into people’s homes to be used by people’s families to be stored in people’s memories.

The gleam of the sun does not cross the threshold, and you brace your palms on either side of the wide door, the air thrums and he’s not here—yet—you slide the toe of Lucy’s old boot across the border of sunlight into sanctuary and peek your closed-eyed face into the shade right before you’re taken bodily to the ground by his heavy weight. Palms catching splinters, his strong chest heaves into the line of your spine, strong arm at your waist to pull your breath from your lungs and your legs from under you.

He forces you belly first to the ground, other hand circling your throat in the imitation of a strangle lest you lose yourself and decide to struggle for the first time ever. But you dig your fingernails into the dirt, scratching for purchase in preparation of what’s about to come, all the fight going out of you; body, half in shadow, half in sunlight. Your bones feel salt bleached. An over abundance of sodium in the blood that renders you catatonic for him.

He nuzzles soft at your nape while his hand shoves under your dress, ripping your underwear down your legs so that the elastic cuts into your tender skin to hurt. All incongruous movement, this man is.

“Didn’t your daddy ever tell you not to go creepin’ ‘round strange men’s homes?” His voice is so deep, drawled, broken up into different notes of lust and anger and temerity. All the strange things that make Joel Miller up.

Yeah, you sigh into the dirt. “Told me exactly how it’d go for me if I did.”

You hitch your rump up then, presenting your cunt for fucking. The breeze doesn’t do half to soothe the throbbing wet. The sort of ache that’ll only be fixed by something heavy inside the hurting place. The sound of his belt quiets the disparate chambers, the beat in your ears of rushing blood is uniform now, there’ll be a wet spot in the shape of you in the dirt when he’s through. You lift your hips higher, knees scraped rough as you spread wider, face pressed to the ground and your fingers are well and burrowed in their little gouges now.

He smacks the heft of it against you asshole, spits and presses a little. He likes to scare you sometimes. Nooo, Joel, all whining stutter, but with your back arching deeper like a little babied liar; you don’t mind where he puts it, only that he puts it somewhere.

“Hush,” he soothes all nice, spanks your ass once all not— “Gonna teach you a lesson.” And shoves inside, bumping against your womb on the first try, stretching your hole too wide, too quick. And there’s no prep, no qualm. No need to hesitate when you own a thing. You swallow your animal cry, ah ah ah, you want to hear how good you’ve been out loud. He grips your hips tight enough to bruise which is what you know he wants and fucks hard and fast, each swing whistles with ownership.

He fucks you in the dirt like an animal, and this affair is virtuous.

He teaches you the truth about hurting, about ownership, about so many things that only a man like Joel Miller could teach a girl like you. And all the while he tells you that you’re too pretty to take such an ugly fucking.

The way he works your cunt, hungry, balls swinging wet so that they sting like his slaps, tip battering hard so that it aches like gratitude.

These are the things three miles give you. A whole man to teach you about the whole world.

The slick squelch of your overwhelmed cunt sounds loud, no more disparate heartbeat, no more green grassed whispers. Only the sound of his grunting above you like an animal remains. “You’re the perfect little cunt. You know that, baby?” There it is, you sigh. Start to tremble around him like that, like his good baby that you are, desperate flutters, little gash being fucked into obedience like you need. Your overwhelmed pants make little dirt dream clouds before your eyes as you start to come for him, crying his name, crying your love, crying that you’re so, so thankful.

“Don’t stop, Joel. Not yet.” And he loves it when you beg, loves it when your cunt pulls tight like a knot.

“Not yet,” he promises because he might be a real mean man, but he loves you like separating salt from blood.

Complicated and precise.

When he’s through with you, there’s sunlight spilling over everything again. It’s journey goes on and on, and his semen drips from your cunt now. He turns gentle, thrusting still, making sure it’s fucked deep, pulsing in time with your own throb. Rhythms merge between the two of you.

His rules are strange, his claims over you equally mysterious. He won’t say things out loud, won’t let you touch any real part of him, but his strange truths ring loud anyways, and when your heart isn’t disjointed, you hear him perfectly well.

When he lays you out bare and trembling across his messy bed, the groaned pains of his age and rutting in the dirt like an animal sound from him as he drapes himself alongside you. Large and hairy, feet hanging off the end of the bed, entirely real with one knee propped up so that his thick cock lays heavy and soft over the swell of his belly. Your heart beats soft and overfull now.

You watch the sun set across the planes of his chest and bask in the blue dark as the night draws breath around you. The work of meting out obedience to little girls who come searching for it is toiling, and you watch him melt into sleep, but right before he’s just gone away from you, with a single finger petting at the jut of the old broken bone in his shoulder, your whispered plea: Will you give me a falseness? You don’t call it a lie. This is a virtuous thing, after all.

Lies aren’t allowed in this house.

He breathes a deep sigh, and you watch the fan of his long lashes sweep open, staring up at the shadowed rafters of his home. You swear you can see each and every individual whisker in his thick beard, dark and gray dispersed throughout. You see every single detail.

He’d told you once there were ghosts here, in this house, and you’d learned later it wasn’t a lie. This became more and more obvious the more you got to know him.

He stares up at them now.

When he’d taken your virginity, when it’d left you the way you’d always imagined it would, covered in tears and blood and semen, you’d made that promise to each other. That you wouldn't lie, that he’d have all of you, that you’d not touch all of him. The ghost lay beside you in the damp bed of your lost innocence that day. It’d been just so ever since and over many miles of three you’d come to appreciate the realities of it. Who could be more connected than two people who always tell each other their truths exactly as they are?

“Give me a falseness,” you say again, not a lie.

“A good kind of a bad kind?”

You flip a mind’s coin, wish you could see the exact ghosts he sees— “Bad.”

He turns to look at you, this half smile he wears is your second favorite one now, the honest one, and it’s all there for you to see. All the disparate chambers of Joel, just like your heart beating in your ears. You suppose the ghosts don’t matter then.

“I don’t love you.”

And you nod solemn. Bad, like a whisper, like your game.

You smile back, the one you know he likes best, the one that looks like his.

Netherfeildren’s Masterlist

Updates Blog

#vic fic #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #Joel Miller smut #joel miller #the last of us AU

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yoursweetwife · 2 days

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female!reader

Aventurine is a very faithful partner. If he truly loves, then other people, no matter how beautiful and influential they are, will not force Aventurine to give up his love. Because their motives are too obvious for someone as insightful as him.

At the same time, you allowed him to remember what it means to be loved, to feel sincere care. Your support helped him even in the worst days, when he thought that life had no meaning at all.

Aventurine lost almost everything, so he learned to appreciate what he has. And Aventurine knows that you love him, but often uncertainty takes over.

For a long time now he has not paid attention to what the young woman circling around him are talking about. Their attempts to get his attention seem somewhat pathetic, which makes the shadows on the floor look more interesting. Instead, he watches you laugh at the young gentleman's joke, making Aventurine's stomach twist with an unpleasant feeling.

He clearly sees the young man's interest in you; would he be a good partner if he interrupted the conversation? Would you be angry with him if he came up, kissed you in front of all these people, picked you up and carried you away?

You feel his gaze burning holes in the back of your head, and you meet his neon purple eyes. Aventurine's breathing stops for a moment as you smile sweetly at him, the unchanging smirk turning into a real smile meant just for you. (He sees that the man is looking at him with envy, and the ladies are hopelessly trying to turn his gaze on themselves.)

Aventurine leaves the crowd and imposingly walks to the place where you are patiently waiting for him, without looking away. His hand finds its rightful place on your thigh and you don’t miss the opportunity to rest your head on his chest, allowing Aventurine to feel the peace he’s been missing since you were taken away.

He good-naturedly tells your friend his name, as if mocking the man who knew exactly who he was dealing with.

"Do you mind if I take this beautiful lady from you?"

There is a hidden threat in his soft voice, and the young man simply nods, not wanting to meet the intense violet eyes.

"Wonderful."

As soon as you enter your room, Aventurine presses you against the cold wood and desperately kisses the soft lips that he has been secretly looking at for the last couple of hours.

It was like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders when your arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer, leaving almost no space. You've never met a person who loves touch as much as Aventurine. This always helped him get all his worries out of his head.

A hand runs through his golden hair, and Aventurine hums in satisfaction, enjoying your gentle touches.

The laughter leaves your lips while Aventurine continues to kiss your face.

"Did someone really miss me?"

Aventurine smiles softly and strokes your face with his thumb.

"Stronger than you think."

#aventurine x reader #female reader #hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail #aventurine #aventurine fluff

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cerisereids · 2 days

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a/n: having a lot of thoughts about beefy dad bod hotch thanks very much to this post from @jaden-treesters and the reblog tags that came along with it (specifically from what @hotchfiles said about him gaining weight i took that and ran)

warnings: there’s some discussion of body insecurities so don’t read if that’s triggering for you!

⭑･ﾟﾟ･*:༅｡.｡༅:*ﾟ:*:✼✿　　✿✼:*ﾟ:༅｡.｡༅:*･ﾟﾟ･⭑

during his time at the bureau, aaron hotchner has put on a few pounds, 'beefed up' as rossi and morgan like to tell him. he knows it's natural. he's a father, he's incredibly busy, bodies change. it happens. knowing that still doesn't stop the feeling of dread creeping through his stomach, all the way through to his chest, wrapping itself around his throat when he sees how tight his shirts have been fitting lately. he's never been a fashion guru, that much is for certain, but he notices the ways in which the cotton hugs certain parts of his body he'd rather kept hidden. the way his arms bulge in the fabric, the fullness of his tummy showing through the pudge that flows just slightly over the waist of his pants. natural or not, it makes him a little insecure, knowing that he shows signs of aging in such a way. he doesn't have much time to feel too bad, though, not with you around.

you meet him in the conference room one cozy morning. it's early, before the rest of your coworkers show up, one thing you and your workaholic boyfriend have in common. he sees the way your eyes light up when you see him, and he can't miss the way your eyes hungrily trail down his body. he grows self conscious for a moment, trying to hide that extra pudge by holding a case file in front of his tummy. you will be having none of that, though, and he should've known. it's not long until you've crossed the room entirely, hands flying over every inch of his softness. the warmth from your hands spreads through his body, coating his skin in a sugary sweet warmth he hadn't allowed himself to feel before he met you. the sweetness of your touch distracts him so much that it takes him a moment to register the feeling of your warm, wet lips following in the wake of your hands. you're kissing everywhere you can, his suit jacket long forgotten on the floor. his eyes close as your lips trail down his arms, focusing heavily on his biceps, your hands squeezing and rubbing over the fabric. you unbutton only the top button on his dress shirt, kissing his chest and neck there while your hands untuck the shirt, rubbing over his soft tummy with newfound stretch marks littering the skin there. he shudders, goosebumps awakening all over his skin, the hairs standing up. just as your hands began to drop tantalizingly low, you move them up to cup his jaw, forcing his eyes to bore into yours. "you're beautiful," you whisper, placing a sweet kiss on his lips, which he accepts greedily. "but i've-" "i don't want to hear it," you cut off what would have been a self deprecating comment on his weight, you both knew that, by placing a finger over his lips. "you are the most delicious..." you begin, placing a kiss behind his ear, "the most beautiful..." another one, along his neck, "the most handsome..." another one, this time to his cheek, "...sweetest guy i've ever met," you punctuate your thoughts with another kiss to his lips. aaron whimpers, and he can feel your prideful smile widen against him. you've always loved being the one to reduce the aaron hotchner to a puddle of mush. you pull away reluctantly, hands resting in his belt loops. "i think rossi just got here," you breathe against his lips, "fix yourself up." you wink at him, leaving him to clean up your mess with a swift slap on his butt. he chuckles breathlessly, watching your figure retreat and greet rossi as if you weren't seconds away from debauchery in the conference room.

#this was not proof read #bon appetit #criminal minds #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner criminal minds #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner smut #belle’s blurbs a.h.

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bluelockmaniac · 3 days

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★ ft. itoshi sae x gn!reader 彡 wc: 1k

▯ synopsis. he reluctantly agrees to let you do his nighttime skincare routine, but surprises you at the end with something you don't expect.

sae still couldn’t quite understand why he had agreed to let you do his nighttime skincare routine. he silently laid in bed, watching you from afar as you clumsily rummaged through the the drawers of your glowing vanity, searching for whatever products you had planned to put on his uninterested face.

a few moments later, you cheerfully skip over to him with breathy giggles and colourful containers in your hands. from the content smile tugging at your lips alone, he was beginning to regret ever allowing you to help him out.

in hindsight, he realized he should have just slapped on some moisturizer as he normally would and gone to bed, but no— your adorable pleading earlier had managed to soften his heart.

“quit the bubbly act,” he mumbles, voice muffled by the pillow. he feels the mattress dipping next to him under your added weight. “it’s creeping me out.”

“c’mon, look at me,” the corners of your lips quirk up as you bring his head to rest on your plushy thigh. he reluctantly looks up at you through his thick lashes, letting out a soft groan when he feels you sliding a fuzzy teddy bear headband over his head, gently pushing back his red bangs.

he raises his arm slowly and places his palm on the rise of your cheek, soothing your soft skin. “sweetheart, you don’t have to do all this– the moisturizer is fine.”

“yes, yes, i know,” you turn your head to the side, picking up the cosmetics and placing them messily on his chest. “i’m doing this because i want to. you’ve already cleansed your face, right?”

sae subtly nods, sighing as his arm falls back to his side. he closes his eyes and readjusts his head comfortably on your lap as he hears the sound of you flicking the toner container open. you pour the solution onto your palms, gently dabbing it onto his soft face, and then rubbing it from his forehead all the way down to his neck.

“does this feel good, sae?” you cooed serenely, tossing the toner aside on the bed before reaching for the serum tube. his teal eyes, partially open now, were deeply immersed in watching you as you applied the serum, massaging it smoothly and carefully to avoid getting it in his eyes.

“mmh, you’re talking too much,” he grumbles faintly as his hand slips up your loose shirt, gently caressing your stomach. his half-lidded eyes were hesitating, threatening to shut once more under the calm soothings of your fingers. “just shut up and hurry, i want to sleep…”

“i’m almost done— look, only the moisturizer’s left now.” you giggle as you look at your boyfriend’s drowsy face, hearing his occasional sighs and noticing his struggle to stay awake. it warms your heart that he trusts you enough to allow himself to be seen by you in his most vulnerable moments.

“sae, can i please please please put the cream on my face and then rub it from my skin to yours? pleaseee?” you beg, batting your eyelashes at him as if it’ll convince him— it worked once, but sae won’t let it happen again, right?

right.

his auburn brows knit together, eyes narrowing as he shoots you a disgusted look. his big hand grabs your jaw firmly, squeezing your cheeks together. “ew, no. weirdo.”

you pout, “sae! stop acting as if my face is infested with germs!”

“it is, though.” he retorts calmly.

“—contagious germs.” you correct yourself, squishing his slippery cheeks harshly. “fine, whatever… so much for pampering and making me happy, sae…”

he rolls his eyes as you begin smearing the creamy substance on his face, a small smile threatening to stretch along his lips. “stop being so dramatic and hand me the chapstick,”

you blink in confusion, turning your head to grab the said product. you hand it over to him without much thought, watching as he pushes himself up with his arms, sitting up against the headboard— the warmth of his head on your lap dissipates, feeling empty now that he was no longer resting there.

sae brings the lip balm to his mouth, biting the cap off. “c’mere,” he beckons you closer to him, gripping your chin as he drags the vanilla-scented bliss across your plump lips. he tilts his head to the side, then throws the tube inattentively on the bed.

“woah, sae being a gentleman? that’s n—” you were interrupted as he brought his hand to the small of your back, pulling you impossibly closer to his chest and kissing you on your lips delicately, stealing the scented, buttery salve he applied earlier and transferring it onto his lips.

your eyes widen, hands instinctively sliding up your face to cover the blush blossoming on your cheeks. your fingers separated carefully, peeking at the football player’s blank, unaffected expression. “w-well, that’s one way to put on chapstick…”

“you looked beautiful, i guess.” he sighs, flopping back onto the bed.

it wasn’t until hearty, soft laughs escaped your parted lips that he glanced at you confused, wondering as to why you palmed your mouth, fruitlessly trying to suppress the sounds. he lifts a brow, “what’s so funny?”

you shake your head, still giggling, as your arm reaches to your nightstand to grab your phone. grinning mischievously, you aim the camera at his now-frowning face and snap a photo.

“what the heck are you d—”

“shh,” you smile, handing him the phone and kissing his cheek as you comb your fingers through his hair. “aren’t you adorable?”

his face falls, cheeks warming as he stares at the childish picture of him wearing the wooly teddy bear headband. he gives you back your phone with a grunt, flicking your forehead gently before pulling you into his arms. pressing soft kisses to your head, he holds you close, a smile tugging at his lips despite his mock annoyance. “what a little tease…”

he did not take it off.

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cutielando · 15 hours

Note

Can we have a Lando x reader who's a little chubby?

a/n: as a chubby girl myself, i love this ❤️ but please remember guys, you are beautiful just the way you are and nobody should tell you otherwise !!! ❤️❤️

so sorry it took so long, uni has been kicking my ass and i haven't had much time to write :((

my masterlist

♡♡♡♡♡

You hadn’t always had doubts regarding the way you looked.

Seeing so many models around you at every step, feeling the eyes burning into the back of your neck and scrutinizing you for simply the way you looked. But you never cared about any of that.

You weren’t ugly, far from it. You were as beautiful as they come, but slightly a little chubby. You had some meat on your thighs and you weren’t afraid to show it off or feel confident in your body.

Well, that was before.

Ever since you started dating Lando, everything changed.

The amount of eyes that were on you before was nothing compared to the moment when you were introduced to the world as Lando’s girlfriend.

You had decided to keep your relationship a secret for the first couple of months, just until you tested out the waters and figured out what would come of the whole thing. You had tried to limit your expectations from the very beginning, knowing that Lando could leave you for anyone and nobody would ever know.

But it didn’t happen, and you were sure that what you had was real after months and months of expecting the worst.

After many talks, both you and Lando decided that it would be best for you to attend the Silverstone Grand Prix as your first official race as his girlfriend. It was his home Grand Prix, at the end of the way, he wanted you there with his family, and he wouldn’t take no for an answer.

“Are you sure you want me to come? I can stay back, I don’t mind” you said as you were waiting for Lando to finish getting ready so you could all leave for the track.

He looked at you, blankly staring at you. You’d had the same conversation 10 times since you guys woke up, and he didn’t know how to stress it well enough that he wanted you there with him.

“Baby, I don’t know how else to say this. I want you there with me, my family wants you there as well. Why are you so nervous?” he was holding your arms, softly running his finger up and down your soft skin.

You had the answer, but you didn’t want to give it to him. You already knew what he was going to say and how he was going to react, but you couldn’t lie to him when he looked at you with those eyes of his that stared deep into your soul.

“I know what people are going to say when they see you with me” you mumbled, staring down at your shoes.

Lando frowned, not understanding what his fans had to do with anything. Why would you care about what his fans would say? He didn’t, why would you?

“What do you mean?” he asked, bringing you closer to his body.

You sighed against his chest, wrapping your arms around his waist loosely.

“People are going to say things when they see you with me” your voice was small, unsure of your own words.

Lando’s eyebrows furrowed, confused as to what you meant. But he didn’t say anything when you sighed, letting you get everything off of your chest.

“I don’t look like the girls you are usually seen with, and people noticed that. They always have something to say about the way I look next to you and that I’m not like your exes and that you don’t really like me and are using me for clout. I know it’s not true, but sometimes they get to me” you confessed, a weight slowly lifting off of your conscience.

You weren’t used to being in the public eye as much as Lando, so you’d never before had to deal with people commenting about your appearance and judging every single thing you did or said.

It was something you took a while getting used to, but it was worth it if it meant being with Lando. And Lando was very grateful for all the sacrifices you had made for him.

“Baby, look at me” he said, taking your face in his hands so you would look him in the eyes. “I don’t care what anybody has to say about you. I love you for who you are, just the way you are. You’re gorgeous in my eyes and nobody could ever convince me otherwise” he said, speaking slowly so you could absorb his words carefully.

You looked at him, biting your lip as you studied his face and especially his eyes. They were sincere, holding more honesty and love than you thought you could ever comprehend.

“You mean that?” you whispered, feeling hot tears building into the corners of your eyes.

Lando smiled and leaned down, kissing you deeply. “I love you, and I don’t care what anyone has to say about us. We’re happy, nobody else matters”

You bit your lip again but nodded, prompting a big smile to break out on Lando’s face.

“Then let’s rock Silverstone”

♡♡♡♡♡

The paddock was buzzing when you arrived with Lando and his family. Dozens of fans were screaming your boyfriend’s name, and even though he smiled and waved at them while keeping his distance, you could tell his smile was not 100% honest.

You tried not to look at his fans if you could help it, knowing you would be met with some looks you’d be better off not seeing. Lando saw that, and he only wrapped his arm around your shoulders to keep you even closer as you made your way together to the garage.

“How are you feeling?” Lando asked once you were in the safety of his driver’s room, away from the screaming fans and photographers.

You smiled, your heart warming at the fact that his most pressing concern, even on the toughest race weekends, was you.

“I’m okay, you don’t have to worry about me” you reassured him, smiling lightly.

He looked at you for a moment, studying your face and eyes intently. He didn’t like knowing that his fans were not supportive of his relationship and of you in particular, he thought it was absolutely ridiculous.

“I just want to make sure you’re comfortable being here” he said, sighing before pulling you into a hug.

“I’ve known from the beginning that being in the public eye wouldn’t always be sunshine and roses. This is just an example of that, we can’t control it. People are allowed to have opinions, I just have to learn how to deal with them” you said, enjoying the warmth emanating from his body.

Lando nodded, but still felt like he should make it clear how wrong everybody else was about you.

He pulled away from the hug, only to take your face in his hands. “I want you to know that, no matter what anyone might say, I love you just the way you are. I don’t care if you’re skinny, if you’re a little chubby, if you have short or long hair, I care about you in any form. I love you for who you are, not for the way you look” he said, making tears well up in the corners of your eyes.

You had always known Lando loved you, but this right there proved it to you 1000 times over.

Not being able to resist, you practically threw yourself against his body, kissing him so fiercely you both became lightheaded. Pouring every ounce of love you felt for one another into a kiss, sealing a promise that you would always be there to lift each other up, no matter what.

Why?

Because nothing else mattered besides you two.

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envysparkler · 3 days

Text

Clark swore he only turned away for a moment but when he looked back, there was a silhouette in the formerly empty corner. He jumped, inhaling sharply, before he registered the bat cowl.

“Do you have to sneak up on people?” Clark asked, half irritation, half relief as he willed his heart to slow down. He was Kryptonian, but the Bat of Gotham was another beast entirely. Clark was giving serious thought to Hal’s claim that the Bat was a spook.

Surely a man like this couldn’t be human.

Batman’s expression shifted imperceptibly under the cowl and Clark could practically hear the terse ‘well maybe if you were aware of your surroundings’. Batman didn’t voice it aloud, he never voiced it aloud, but the weight of his disdain was apparent.

Clark blew out a sharp breath, “So, what are you here for?” He tried to remember if there was any activity near Gotham lately—nothing would step on Batman’s toes quite as much as breaking his one rule—

“Kon-El.”

Clark tensed all the way up. He couldn’t help it, it had been over two years since he’d found Kon, but he was still overprotective of the kid. With a megalomaniac for a father and the end of a species for his legacy, Kon had a weighty burden to shoulder, and Clark would absolutely protect him from it as much as possible.

“What about Kon?” Clark asked levelly.

“He propositioned Tim.” The words nearly came out in a hiss and Clark blinked. Kon had told him of his plan to ask Tim out, Clark’s discreet inquiries seemed to conclude that the boy fancied Kon back, Clark couldn’t see what the problem was. Tim was seventeen, six months senior to Kon, and he had dated previously.

Which meant that either this was a gay thing or a meta thing.

“So?” Clark leaned back, narrowing his eyes as he kept his voice deliberately casual. “What about it? I think they’d make a cute couple.”

“No.”

“No?”

“No,” Batman hissed, vehement. Clark narrowed his eyes further. “It will not happen. I forbid it. You will tell Kon-El to stay away from my son.”

“They work on the same team,” Clark pointed out, starting to get angry.

“Tim will be leaving the Titans.”

“Because Kon asked him out?” Clark asked, incredulous. The sheer overreaction was ridiculous.

“Yes.”

“Does Tim want to leave?” Clark asked. He didn’t know the details of how Kon was planning to ask Tim out, but it was possible that he’d accidentally offended him. “Maybe I should talk to him—”

“No!”

Clark stared. Batman didn’t shout. Batman never shouted. Batman certainly didn’t ball his hands into fists like he was contemplating punching Clark. Whatever this was about, it was causing the man to lose his infamous composure.

“You will not talk to Tim. Your son,” Batman twisted the word and Clark came perilously close to seeing red—“will not talk to Tim. This will never happen again. Is that understood?”

Clark took five deep breaths to be able to speak without shouting. “No,” he said as calmly as he could. “I don’t understand. I don’t know why you’re so upset about this. If there’s a problem, and if the kids can’t solve it on their own, then it becomes my business—”

“There is no problem,” Batman ground out through gritted teeth.

“That’s not what it sounds like to me,” Clark said sharply. “I don’t know if this is homophobia or xenophobia, but our kids are doing a better job of getting along than we are, and that’s something to be encouraged.”

Batman was silent for so long that Clark actually got out of his chair to make sure the guy was still there. “Getting along,” the vigilante said finally, words slow and faintly bitter.

“What?”

“This is about getting along,” Batman said. Clark didn’t know whether it was a question.

“I guess?” he answered. Kon wouldn’t have asked Tim out unless they’d gotten to know each other, breaking the long-held isolation of the Bats.

Batman’s jaw tightened. “Okay,” he said.

“Okay?” Clark was very confused.

“Okay,” Batman repeated. “We can…get along.” Clark stared blankly at him. “Now tell your son to stop.”

Clark immediately protested, but was sidetracked as Batman pulled off his cowl. Batman never unmasked even though they all knew who he was, and Clark’s breath caught in his throat at the sight of Bruce Wayne’s glittering gray eyes glaring at him.

“Wait,” Clark said, shaking his head, “I’m not telling Kon to stop. Why are you—”

“Then what do you want,” Bruce snapped.

“For what?” Clark was keenly aware that he’d lost the thread of this conversation somewhere and he didn’t know where.

“To call your son off!” Bruce said, face narrowed into a glower, but Clark caught the edge of a crack in his tone. “Do you want me to get on my knees? Suck you off? Fuck you? You—”

“What,” Clark’s voice was the one that cracked this time, embarrassingly high as he swiftly backed away. “What the fuck. What are you talking about?!”

“You said,” Bruce said, and Clark abruptly realized that the terseness to his tone was because he pausing to swallow more often. “You wanted us to get along.”

“Not like that.”

“Kon-El propositioned my son.”

“Kon asked Tim on a date,” Clark said, voice still too high with dawning horror, “because he likes Tim. Because that’s what kids do when they like one of their friends!”

“Typically,” Bruce said quietly, and Clark could see the fractures in his eyes, “they don’t also have the power to immobilize said friend.”

Clark stared at him, frozen in shock and horror. He’d been wrong, then, it wasn’t the idea of his son dating a meta that Bruce didn’t like, except it kind of was, it was the idea of his son dating someone with the ability to overpower him.

“Why would you think,” Clark whispered, “that Kon would ever do that?” Kon was a good kid, a hero, he loved helping people, if Bruce dared to breathe one word about Lex, Clark would eviscerate him—

But no. Bruce didn’t say Lex’s name. He didn’t say anything at all, just stared at Clark with a blank expression. He looked…tense. Anxious. There were dark circles under his eyes and the lines on his face skewed to exhaustion. He hadn’t relaxed his fists.

Clark walked back over to him, slow and even, posture unthreatening. When Clark was two steps away, Bruce shifted ever-so-slightly, a flinch, a brace for a punch there could be no bracing against.

Clark stopped. He turned and sat back down in his chair.

“Batman,” he said slowly, heart heavy and aching, “I’m not going to hurt you or your son. Neither is Kon. This wasn’t a—a threat, or whatever you thought it was.” Because Bruce had clearly thought it was a threat, if he came here to bargain Clark into taking him instead. “Tim does not have to agree to Kon’s date. If he says no, Kon will leave him alone. If he wishes to leave the Titans, he can.”

I am not the monster you so clearly think I am, he wanted to scream.

“If that’s all you came here for,” he said, turning back to the reports, “You can leave.” Clark didn’t know if he could stop himself from venting his feelings if Batman stayed.

#my snippets #bruclark #timkon #bruce is terrified of clark #and unfortunately very good at hiding it #protective bruce

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zegrasdrysdale · 13 hours

Note

I know you’ve been getting Ethan Edwards smuts recently but I just thought of one today and thought I’d share it with you! Riding Ethan because he’s too hurt to be on top!

Hoping you could write this for me!! Thank you!!

[ saddle up ] e. edwards

paring : Ethan Edwards x fem!reader

summary : a bored and injured Ethan finds his girl’s cowgirl hat from Halloween after a few months and is wearing it when she comes to the hockey house after class hoping she gets the hint

warning(s) : smut ! dirty talk, use of pet names during sex, p in v, unprotected sex (don’t be silly, wrap your willy), injured!ethan (but he’s also horny lol)

author’s note : pls send all the ethan smut requests bc i am a whore for this man and i will pretty much write anything i get abt him lmaoo. enjoy anon <33

༺═──────────────═༻

The moment she walks into the hockey house after a full day of classes and lectures, something’s off. The house is usually buzzing with hockey players by the time four rolls around and she comes walking into the house.

This time, the house is empty. Luca isn’t sitting in the living room playing some kind of game with Adam, the Duke boys aren’t yelling at each other in the kitchen, no stray hockey player is doing his homework or playing with Luca if Adam has a game.

It’s too quiet.

“Ethan?” she calls out. “Are you here?”

There’s no way they’d leave Ethan alone with his injured shoulder. He still needs help with a few basic things and can’t put a lot of weight on his shoulder yet. That’s why she’s practically been living with four hockey players since she and Ethan came back from summer break.

As she walks up the stairs, a soft “here” comes from down the hallway. She pushes the door to Ethan’s room open and peeks her head inside.

Ethan is lying in bed so she feels a little better, but he’s wearing an unbuttoned checkered flannel and a pair of jeans. Her sparkly black cowgirl hat from Halloween is on his head. She covers her smile with her hand and has to stifle a laugh.

“What the hell are you wearing?” she asks, voice muffled by her hands. The laughter is evident in her voice. “What is happening?”

He smiles and slowly manuvers himself so he’s sitting up against the headboard behind him. “I got bored and was pacing around my room and I found your hat while I was doing that,” he tells her. “Dressed the part. I was hoping you’d do me a favor though.”

She kicks the door shut behind her and drops her bag on the floor next to it. “Yeah? What’s that?”

“Save a horse, ride a hockey player?” Ethan tells her. It’s more of a question than a comment. “Well, a hockey player dressed as a cowboy. Anyway, please?”

Even injured and ordered by the doctor to rest, Ethan is thinking about sex. Possibly explains why the house is so empty. “Did you kick everyone out or something?” she asks. “It’s Wednesday. The house is usually filled to the brim with hockey players by now.”

“Coach Naurato called an emergency practice at Yost,” he explains. “There’s a team meeting I have to go to at seven but until then, I have the house all to myself.” He pats his lap with the hand that’s attached to his healthy shoulder. “So, saddle up.”

The laugh that she’s been surpressing bubbles from her throat. She loses it for a second, but she kicks off her sneakers anyway. “You are insufferable, Ethan Edwards,” she laughs. “Hot, but insufferable.”

Ethan shoots her another smile. “Yeah, but you still love me anyway,” he comments as she carefully crawls onto his lap. “Plus, it’s been a while since you’ve been fucked so I knew you couldn’t turn this down.”

She rolls her eyes and plays with the button on Ethan’s jeans. “I wanted to be careful because of your shoulder, E,” she tells him. “But yeah I’m losing my mind a little bit because it’s been a while.”

“Knew it,” Ethan laughs.

“You better be nice to me,” she reminds him as she pops his jeans open by undoing the button. “I’ll make sure this goes excruciatingly slow for you if you’re not nice to me.”

He throws his hands in the air in surrender. “Alright,” he says. “No need for threats.”

She smiles and kneels between his knees so she can get his pants off. She wiggles the jeans off of his legs and throws them on the floor. She can clearly see the bulge that’s formed in his boxers. With a light touch, she traces the bulge and Ethan presses his lips in a line.

Her fingers trail up over his abs and toned chest until she grazes his stubbled jaw. She carefully leans over him so she doesn’t accidentally put pressure on his shoulder.

Their eyes meet and Ethan smiles. “Hi, baby,” he says.

“Hi, handsome,” she giggles. “You sit there and rest like the doctor you to. I’ll take care of you.”

Ethan nods and she surges forward to capture his lips in a needy kiss. She cups his jaw and moves herself so she straddles one of his thighs. One of Ethan’s hands slides up the back of her shirt that she borrowed stole from him.

It’s very much been a while since they’ve properly had sex. It was before Ethan’s surgery, which was nearly seven months ago. Even then it was sporadic because he was playing through an injury and she didn’t want to hurt him even more. It’s been consistently hands, fingers, and mouths since about five months ago.

They’re great, especially when it’s Ethan’s fingers or tongue that make her come. Nothing will compare to being filled by Ethan’s dick though.

Yeah, she’s missed proper sex. Just a little bit. Or a lot.

She reaches down between them to pull her Ethan’s shirt over her head. The kiss breaks but Ethan leans up a bit and presses kisses to her collarbone. The hat he is wearing is knocked off his head and falls onto the pillows behind him. She grabs it and puts it on her own head.

He looks up at her and pulls back. “Saving a horse, riding a hockey player,” she comments. “Plus, it’s my hat.”

“It looks better on you anyway,” he replies. She tilts her hat in his direction and Ethan laughs.

His fingers slide to her back and unclasp the bra she had on. It falls between them and Ethan tosses it to the floor. He kisses her collarbones and chest. His lips trail down to her boobs. He’s always loved her tits and has always given them extra attention. Now is no different.

She leans her head back and sighs as Ethan cups one breast while he takes the other in his mouth. He switches after a moment. Her fingers are in his hair and she leaves the occasional kiss to his temple. “Ethan,” she sighs into his hair.

“Let me give my pretty girl some love first,” he mumbles against her skin. She smiles into his locks. “Then you’re allowed to do whatever you want.”

It feels like an eternity later when Ethan finally pulls back and looks up at her with the most innocent look on his face. Her chest is covered in red marks that only the two of them will ever see since it’s not bathing suit season. She shakes her head with a laugh before she leans in and captures his lips in a soft kiss.

Ethan begins to push at the waist and of the leggings she has on. “Come on, baby,” he whines into the kiss. “Off. Want you to ride me, pretty girl.”

His words shoot straight to her core and she hums. She loves when he talks to her like this and calls her ‘pretty girl’.

She has to break the kiss so she can get her pants off for him. She pushes the leggings, along with her already wet panties, down to her knees. She kicks them off from there. Ethan bites his bottom lip when she crawls onto his lap, completely naked.

Very carefully, she pushes the flannel that he’s wearing off his body. He sits up so she can get it off his arms without bumping his shoulder. The shirt joins the rest of their clothes on the ground.

Just to be a tease, she rolls her hips against Ethan’s. He groans and both his hands fly to her waist. “Keep doing that and we’re gonna have a problem,” he tells her. With a smile, she pulls his boxers off of him. His dick springs free of it’s confines as she throws the fabric to the floor with a soft thud.

She takes him in one hand and reaches over to his table to grab a condom out of the drawer. He intercepts her hand and she raises her eyebrows at him. “As long as it’s okay with you, I don’t want to use one,” he comments. “I just want to feel you.”

“You are so lucky that I started taking the pill,” she tells him with a laugh. “I’d be saying absolutely not if I didn’t.”

“Thank God for birth control,” Ethan replies. She smiles and leans in to kiss him again. One of his hands comes up to cup her face. She moves herself so she straddles his waist.

After a few extra pumps, she lines Ethan’s dick up with her entrance. She slowly sinks down on his cock with a sigh against his lips. His hands are on her waist to help her stay balanced. She feels the familiar stretch as she lowers herself onto his dick.

Once he’s completely inside of her, she gives herself a second since it’s been a while. Then she slowly moves her hips, still trying to be careful of Ethan’s shoulder.

Soft pants pass her lips into the messy kiss. The quicker her movements are, the heavier the pants. She has to break the kiss and rests her forehead against Ethan’s so she can breathe.

One of his hands comes up and cups her jaw. His thumb runs over her swollen lips and her hair has formed a curtain around their faces. She continues to move at a steady pace.

“Fuck,” she pants. “Missed this, E. Missed you.”

“Never left, baby,” he tells her. “Missed this too though.”

She smiles and kisses him again. Her hands rest on his torso as she quickens her pace.

The kiss doesn’t last long. The tip of his cock grazes her favorite spot and she groans. She sits back and is able to move at a slower but more comfortable pace and speed.

Ethan’s fingers trail from her jaw, down between her tits and over her stomach until he reaches her clit. She falters in her pace for a second but quickly recovers as she gets used to his fingers on her clit. “Don’t stop, E,” she pants as the knot in her stomach forms. “Shit.”

“I have you, pretty girl,” Ethan tells her. His own voice is shaky. “Look so pretty riding my cock, baby.”

She bites her bottom lip as her legs begin to shake on either side of his waist. Her orgasm is imminent but she isn’t ready for this to be over so quickly.

Her hands slide from his torso to his chest. Ethan’s able to lean his head up a bit and press soft kisses to her wrist. He grabs her hand with his free hand and kisses the back of it before he trails kisses down her arm. He gently pulls her so she leans over him again.

She lightly wraps her arms around his neck and quickens her pace one more time. “Fuck, E,” she gasps as the knot threatens to come undone. “Don’t want this to be over.”

“Come on my cock, sweet girl,” he tells her. “We’ll do this as many times as you want. Just wanna see you come on my cock, baby.”

His words mixed with his fingers on her clit and dick inside her are too much and she comes the next time she lowers herself onto him.

She loudly cries out his name as she reaches her high. Ethan cups her face in his hands so she doesn’t fall but she also grabs onto the headboard just in case. She loses her vision for two seconds and sees stars.

Ethan isn’t far behind her. With his healthy arm, he lifts her up and comes on her stomach and thighs. She heavily pants with a smile on her face as Ethan sinks back against the headboard after his own orgasm. He has a lazy smile on his own lips.

She leans in and they share a handful of lazy kisses as they both come down from their highs and get feeling back in their bodies.

As soon as she feels like she can stand, she gets off of Ethan and grabs the shirt she stole from him to wipe herself off. She finishes the job once she pees and wets a cloth.

When she comes back into the room, Ethan has the hat back on and is laying under the covers from the waist down. She laughs and shakes her head as she crawls under the covers with him.

She presses soft kisses to the scar on his shoulder. “I love you,” she mumbles. “The hat’s gotta go though. I’m down to do that again without the hat.”

Ethan tosses the hat somewhere in the room. “I love you,” he tells her. “I have an alarm set so you can sleep if you want.”

With a soft hum in agreement, her tired body gives in to sleep as she curls up around her boyfriend.

༺═──────────────═༻

MASTERLIST

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#hockey imagines #hockey imagine #hockey fanfiction #hockey fic #hockey oneshot #hockey smut #nhl imagines #nhl imagine #nhl fanfiction #nhl fic #nhl oneshot #nhl smut #umich hockey fic #umich fic #ethan edwards #ethan edwards x reader #ethan edwards smut #zegrasdrysdale request

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