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plutoswritingplanet · 2 months

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It's A Special Death You Saved (Feyd Rautha x Female!Reader) pt.3

a/n: so i lied about this being the last chapter, there's one more, i know im sorry....... also shout out to my friends, who were unbelievably helpful with the smut part because oh, there's smut here

Warnings: Explicit Sexual Content (yuuuh yuuuuuuh), Alcohol, like....a tiny bit of Humiliation.

Summary: The month-long courting comes to an end with a bang! As your engagement party commences, wine flows and darker feelings rise to the surface

Pt. 1, Pt.2 Pt.4 (finale)

In the darkness of the night, he still comes to you in your dreams, knife in hand, body taunt and ready to strike. Every single morning, you awake with a gasp, as visions of your tormentor plague you. In some, he slits your throat, reveling in the way red cascades down your nightgown. Other times, it's a quick and brutal stabbing, your insides twisting as you wake.

But then, there are those rare nights where you rise from your bed, sweat clinging to your skin, as you fight with the pressure in your stomach, try to rid yourself of the images, before making yourself presentable for breakfast.

Those dreams, nightmares, are the worst.

White, elegant fingers, grabbing, pulling, pinching every surface of your exposed skin. Defined arms around you, squeezing your pliant body in an embrace that is as tender and romantic, as a snake suffocating its victim. Deceivingly soft lips, mapping a trail down your front, pulling back to reveal teeth, which make that same trail visible, hurting.

In those dreams, he paints you with black. Taints you, until you're molded into his perverse image, until there's no telling where he ends, and you begin. He makes you into a sculpture, in a way that an artist cuts away pieces of clay, slowly robbing you of all agency, until there's only what he wants to see. And you let him, with a trembling smile on your lips, hands twisted into the stained sheets of your bed.

Ignoring him has become an art form as well.

Since your faithful tangle at the training barracks, you did everything in your power, to never appear in the same room as him, or at least, never alone. You became a shadow in your own home, a whisper of the person you used to be. Shame is a powerful thing, and you wore it like a wedding veil over your face. Paul would always help you, silently. Never asking outright what had happened between you and the Harkonnen, but somehow always knowing. Your brother, your salvation, breaks your heart everytime he grabs your hand, and leads you away from the predator in the room.

The date of your engagement party has been set a week into the future. The nervous bustling of the court only heightening your already wracked thoughts, as the inevitability of your situation begins to haul you to the ground.

Your Mother took most of the preparations on her back, directing the servants, the kitchen, the musicians. She picked out a dress for you, some flowing abomination, which hung in your closet, reminding you every morning, that you will have to wear it with a smile. You hoped, there will be wine at the feast, hope that it will be sweet enough to dull your insides.

As the date of the feast comes closer and closer, you begin to spend more time outside.

The air is crisp and smells of seawater, and you can't help but inhale fully, every time. You want it seared into your brain, so whenever you're taken away from your home, you can run back to this memory, to the feel of grass under your fingers.

- You'll catch a cold, if you keep sitting here.

Paul's voice brings you back from your dark thoughts, and you look up, from your spot in the grass. He stands a couple paces back, hands folded behind his back in a manner, that is reminding you of your Father more and more every day.

- Do you want to join me? - you ask, your lips quirking up into a small smile - Or would you prefer to stand there like a pillar of salt?

Your brother shakes his head, before coming closer and plopping down next to you, his skinny legs stretched out in front of him. The both of you sit in silence for a while, enjoying the breeze ruffling your hair, the smell of ocean and the waves crashing into the cliffs. There are seagulls flying over your heads, and you feel the moisture from the grass seep into your clothing.

A wistful sigh escapes you, before you can stop it, and you let yourself fall, laying flat on the hill.

Paul looks down at you, undescribable sadness swimming in his eyes, and an instinct of sister awakes in you, a need to comfort, despite being a wreck yourself. So, you offer him a smile, a tired one, but a smile nonetheless.

- Do you think we could take the horses for a ride today? - your brother asks with naive hope, his eyes turning to the sea.

- Mother won't allow me to go, she wants me to spend my pondering the proper behavior during the feast - try as you might, you can't hide the bitterness in your voice - Besides, I could fall off and hurt the merchandising.

Paul's hand finds yours, and he squeezes your fingers tightly. It's hard not to break, in moments like these. When you're forced to remember, you'll most likely never see your family again.

- If I could do something, anything... - you recognize that feverish note in your brother's voice, it's devoid of reason, impulsive, too much like you.

- But you can't, so you won't.

A frustrated sound escapes his mouth, and he turns back to the sea. You watch him through half-lidded eyes, eyelashes falling heavily on your cheeks. He looks like a Duke, you conclude, and that thought feels strangely comforting. No matter where you'll be shipped off, no matter what life has in store for you in the future, somehow, you know your brother will persevere.��

- Do you remember that time Gurney made us train on the beach? - you ask, a sudden wave of nostalgia washing over you, as the clouds float in the sky above you - Cause of the... The balance. We had to try to balance in the sand.

Paul twists his head towards you, surprised at the turn of the conversation, before cracking a smile.

- Yes, he slipped on the rocks, nearly broke his backbone - he starts to wave his hands around in a wonderful reenactment of your mentor's fall, before collapsing next to you in the grass.

Your laughter mingles with the sounds of the sea, as the both of you, the future of House Atriedes, share memories, scenes from the life you've lived together. The good and the bad. The horse races through plains and hills of Caladan, the many, many food fights. It's hard to tell, how much time you spend together, laying in the grass, but when you finally fall into silence, the air has become considerably more chilly. A sign, it's time to return to reality, to your duties.

- You should've been me, and I you - Paul whispers suddenly, and you close your eyes in a pained expression.

Perhaps it's true. Perhaps Lady Jessica made a mistake, and gave a Daughter where she should've given a Son. Now, it's no longer important. Your roles have been set in place, all you could do, is fulfill them. Somewhere back, in the direction of the Palace you can hear a voice calling your names. A reminder, that the world outside this grassy sanctuary exists, and can't wait any longer.

You move to stand, Paul gathering himself up closely behind. Your clothes stick to your body, and you're shivering from the cold, but if you could spend just one more moment exactly like that, you would've taken that chance without question.

An arm snakes around your elbow, and you lean onto your brother's shoulder, as you start to walk back, steps swaying like a pair of drunkards. Then, Paul tugs you closer, you can feel him tense suddenly, as he leans with a sullen expression on his pale face.

- I hate the way he looks at you - he confesses, waves upon waves of righteous Atriedes fury crashing in his voice.

You don't know how to respond to that, so you stay silent, giving his arm a reassuring tug.

That was the last conversation you've had with your brother.

*** While the House Atriedes is characterized by a rather mellow temper, there was one thing they took extremely seriously. And those, unfortunately for you, were engagement rituals.

So, that's why you sit posed like a porcelain doll in a deep chair, next to your soon-to-be husband, at the foot of a long table, surrounded by music, and dancing, and food. There are ribbons hung from the high ceilings, and flickering lights float around them like little fireflies. You watch, as they dance above you, the ridiculous headdress placed on your hair digs into your skul. Color surrounds you, your own dress flowing like a waterfall, elegant, yet delicate. The pools of fabric gather around your legs, a chiffon monstrosity, that you know, is supposed to make you beautiful.

And perhaps you would've felt beautiful, if this was any other occasion. A birthday feast, perhaps. Dare you say, and engagement party with someone you actually loved.

Speaking of which, your betrothed sits beside you, sticking out like a sore thumb. He looks utterly bored, eyes following the celebrating masses, hand playing with a steak knife. Not enough blood for his tastes, you suppose. He's dressed in traditional Harkonnen attire, which you think, doesn't really look that much different from all the other outfits you've seen him in. Black, sleek, efficient. You must be a curious pair, a mass of colorful materials and a black-stone pillar.

The wine, thankfully, is sweet. It warms your face, and turns your insides into a pleasant mush. You should've eaten more, but then again, it was a celebration of your imprisonment, and if you wanted to get drunk, you would. And you did get drunk. Quickly.

The dress moves with you, as you slowly slide down the chair, one leg resting up on the seat. A frightfully unbecoming sight, but you can't find it in yourself to care. Another, clumsy drink from your cup, and you sigh deeply, blinking a couple of times to rid yourself of sudden dizziness.

Your betrothed gives you a look, whether it's of warning or amusement, you're not sure. And you don't care. Your nose scrunches in the general direction of his smooth head, and you take another sip, just to spite him.

- Shut up - you grumble, a slurr entering your words.

- I haven't said a word - he counters, and this time you can see him smile.

- You're thinking, it's annoying.

Feyd Rautha has an unpleasant laugh.

Sharp and low, and very rough around the edges. It's like listening to an old spaceship try to take off, and you're sure you don't want to hear him laugh ever again. That's it, your goal in this, frankly, fucked up marriage, will be to never make your husband laugh. Although, it's best not to think about it so loudly, he might be a hidden mind reader, and would most likely laugh in your face every day, just to torture you.

God. You were going to regret every sip come tomorrow morning.

- You're wrapped like a present - Feyd Rautha leans down with a smirk playing on his full lips, and you have to crane your neck to look him straight in the face - Shall I unwrap you here, while your family watches?

Despite the light tone, you shiver under his gaze. Something in the way his body seems relaxed yet tense at the same time tells you, this shameless man would do it in a heartbeat, if you as much as inclined your head.

- Gross - you groan, hand untangling itself from the amassing of chiffon to push back at his face.

It's the first time, you've touched him out of your own volition, and even in your drunken daze, you note the sudden glint in his eyes. Fingers grab at your wrist, keeping you in place, as he leans further into your touch, turning his head slightly. Wine mixes with sudden embarrassment, as his lips brush against the meat of your palm. Then, black teeth shine and your heart jumps to your throat, as he bites down on your skin, hard enough to make you jump. Tongue darts out, licking a stripe up your thumb, before giving your fingertip a tiny nibble.

You tear your hand away from him, pressing it into your chest with an appalled expression. There are indents just below your thumb in the shape of his teeth, and the confounding feelings you've been trying to stoke for almost a month now, come crashing down upon you.

He looks satisfied with himself, returning back to his seat, and his steak knife. The utensil reflects the flowing lights, and despite yourself you swallow thickly, turning back to your cup, which is quickly becoming empty.

God, it was getting incessantly hot in this cursed dining hall.

Whether it was the wine, or the sudden wave of knee-bending arousal washing through you, you couldn't tell. (It was both, you were fully aware it was both) And you're uncomfortable, terribly so. You fidget in your seat, almost painfully aware of the heat, which has now spread further down. The fabric of the dress slides against your body, skin becoming far too sensitive, too hungry for touch. You try to relieve some of your torment, legs squeezing and rubbing together. Treacherous tongues of self-awareness rear its ugly heads, and you look up, and...

Of course he noticed.

Feyd Rautha places his chin in his hand, and he observes you with a knowing look, which turns dark and terrifying as soon as your eyes meet.

- Careful, lest the court starts talking - he warns you, his voice somehow becoming deeper than before, and you take a shuddering breath.

Dagnerous, this is dangerous.

You're seated far away from your family, from any consolation, and even if they were close enough to intervene, the masses of dancing people, the sound of their laughter... Your heart stops, a snake curling itself around your insides. Truly, if that beast of a man wanted to, he could make do of his threat from earlier, and take you where you sit. Haunted by that thought, both terrifying and arousing, you down the rest of your wine.

It doesn't taste as good anymore. Hell, it threatens to come back up, until you force it to sit in your stomach.

Duncan, you need to find Duncan, or you'll do something incredibly stupid. You'll do something incredibly stupid either way, but at least the regret will be less biting. So, pulling yourself up on trembling arms, you shuffle out of your chair, your betrothed's heated gaze following you on your way through the hall.

People don't even look at you, too enraptured with free food and drinks, and the music, which flows loudly through the air. Good, in any other case, the Duke's Daughter, stumbling drunk through corridors, would certainly lift some eyebrows. Your feet carry you towards the training barracks, a familiar route you've followed many times. Indulging in sex with your Father's most trusted advisor was not the healthiest form of regulating emotions, but you needed something, and God knows, you'd rather die than get it from anyone else. From Him especially.

The choice is made for you, however, as a strong hand wraps itself around your arm, just above your elbow, yanking you backwards, behind a stone column. The world spins in front of your eyes, and for a second you worry the company of wine warming your insides is about to abandon you along with breakfast.

- Do you truly thought, you could sneak away from me?

Finally, your eyes focus on Fey Rautha's face, almost demonic in the low light of the corridor. Shadows play on his expression, falling heavily over his eyes, and you try to wrench yourself from his grasp.

- What I do is none of your business - you slurr out, wringing your arm every which way, his fingers digging painfully into your flesh - Let go of me.

The Harkonnen presses himself closer to you, trapping your body between the stone and himself. His nose nearly crushes itself into the juncture between your neck and your shoulder, taking a disturbing long whiff. You can feel his chest vibrate against your own, as he groans deep within his throat. It sobers you up in record speed, and you start to thrash in his hold. He subdues your outburst, as if he was made for it, before dragging his nose up, towards your hair. You snarl like a wild animal.

- Let me go.

His body moves on its own accord, tearing itself away from you in an instant, legs tripping over themselves, to put distance between your bodies. He looks up at you, muscles tense and an expression of shock painted across his pale face.

The ability to use the Voice was something you rarely took part in. Training sessions with your Mother went well, as expected of a woman, but you still had a lot of work ahead of you. You blink forcefully, steadying yourself against the wall behind you. Then, you notice the borderline murderous look on your soon-to-be husband's face.

- Witch - he spits out, baring his blackened teeth at you.

- I am the Daughter of Duke Atriedes - your voice carries a note of righteous pride, despite dread climbing up your spine - And you will treat me with respect, wedded or not.

He straightens himself with petrifying speed, and as he takes a step towards you, actions overtake reflection. Your hand winds back, and you bring a resounding slap across his sharp cheekbone. While your palm blooms with pain, he seems to barely react, closing the distance between the two of you after a tense beat. Before you have a chance to react again, his hands grab at your face, and his lips crash against yours in a punishing kiss.

Teeth clink together and the momentum of the kiss makes your head collide with the stone pillar behind you. He's fingers dig into your cheeks and your jaw, as he devours you completely, bringing down all your defences in one swoop. You kiss him back, almost immediately, opening your mouth to let him in, to meet his tongue halfway. It's almost grotesque, how much you hate and love this at the same time, the buzzing of the wine mixing with the sound of your racing heart, with the sound of his unabashed sounds of pleasure.

Hands flail at your sides, as you grab all you can take, pulling him even closer by the thick fabric of his tunic.

His hands however, know exactly what they want, and as he lets go of your face, they both sink down. Fingers hook into the neckline of your dress, and he tears it down, your entire body swaying with the force of his movement. Your breasts are freed for only just a moment, cold air hitting them in a way that would be uncomfortable, if they weren't immediately covered by your betrothed's large palm. He palms at your chest, as if he wants to crush it, and you bite back a whine, which threatens to spill from your abused lips.

- Don't - he growls a warning, unoccupied hand tangling itself within your hair - Sing.

And you do. As his mouth descends upon your neglected breast, where he alternates between licks and bites that make your back fly off the wall. Once again you don't know what to do with your hands, finding them entirely useless in the Harkonnen's overpowering grasp. One, grabs at his shoulder, undecided on whether to push him off, or pull him in closer. The other one scratches four lines into his skull, as he sucks on the sensitive skin under your ribs.

Finally, he detaches from you completely, standing straight and regarding you with a look so intensely ravenous, it shakes you to your core. Your exposed chest rises and falls in tandem with your heaving breaths, and you shiver, as cold air hits your skin. His gaze drinks in your dissheveled hair, the way your lips are puffy and red. A beautiful sight for his blackened eyes.

- I know who you went looking for - he starts, stalking towards you once again - Can't have that, can I?

You debate feigning confusion, outrage at such accusation, which hasn't really been uttered yet. But, as Feyd Rautha stops just short of the bottom hem of your dress, you suddenly find yourself unable to speak. Instead, as a last ditched effort to rid yourself of him, your hand extends, a half-hazard attempt at liberation. He swats it away, as one would a mere fly, before sinking to his knees in front of you.

- Lift up your dress, Viper - his voice is like thunder in your ears, and you bite your lips at the sight of his eyes, dark and surprisingly eager.

Hands move clumsily in an effort to gather all those translucent layers. You nearly trip over yourself, earning a rather nasty chuckle from below. As soon, as your legs are visible, he dives between the chiffon, his head dissapearing from sight. You can feel his lips, traveling up the expanse of your calf, giving a light bite under your knee.

Anticipation siezes your gut, and you grab onto the wall, as if that would save you. His hands grab your leg, skin incredibly warm to the touch for someone who looks so cold, and then, with forceful tugs, he starts to manouver you.

You let out an unbecoming squeak, as he yanks your leg over his shoulder. Strong hands keep you in place, and he reaches out around the upper part of your thigh to all but tear your undergarments off of your core. The force of this action makes you jump in place on your one available leg, just to hold your balance, and for a second you consider swatting at him.

That thought leaves you almost immediately after it appears, as an onslaugh of kitten licks unleashes downward. A vague, head like shape moves under your dress, the chiffon floating from place to place like a hypnotizing river. The wine must've heightened your senses to an alarming degree, because as soon as Feyd Rautha begins his ministrations, you're a mess.

It's honestly humiliating, the way you fight for any purchase on the wall behind you, as he begins to lick in earnes, parting your legs further with one hand, while the other wraps securely around your used leg. While there, he cops a feel of your behind, fingers biting into the soft flesh, and you lock your lower lip between your teeth so hard, you can taste blood on your tongue.

As if he's developed some new telepathic talents, his hand leaves your ass, in favor of winding up, and slapping it harshly. The action makes your jump in place once again, a sound stuck between outrage and glee fleeing your throat, before you have the chance to stop it. Right, "sing", you remind yourself, and immediately feel him change his tactics.

Your bundle of nerves opens new possibilities of torment, and as his lips close around the bud, you can't help the whine, escaping through your lips. The music is loud, you remind yourself. They won't hear, no one will hear. His hand pushes your dangling leg further up your shoulder, and your back arches from the stone. You will be sore as all hell after this is done, but for now, it doesn't matter. Nothing really matters, except the way your betrothed eats you out, like a man who's been starved for decades.

- Oh shit - you curse, hands flailing uselessly - Oh fuck!

All of a sudden, everything stops, and your building peak subsides into a dissatisfactory simmer. Feyd Rautha's head emerges from under the fabric, a terrible, shit-eating grin on his wet lips.

- Such language? - he teases, tongue darting out to lap at your arousal - So unbecoming of a-...

- Fucking don't stop! - there's panic in your movements, as you grab the back of his head, and shove him right under your dress again.

The laughter should be unsettling for you, but he returns to his post with twice as much motivation, and however more strength, and before you know it, your orgasm sneaks upon you. A sudden tightness in your core is all the warning you get, before the coil snaps, and your entire body starts to spasm in pleasure.

It's good. Incredibly so. You'd risk saying it's the most intense you've ever came, but never out loud, never to him. That shameful secret was between you and whatever God that was listening. Stars erupt behind your eyelids, your breathing stopping for just a moment.

And then you go deliciously limp, legs giving out completely.

To his credit, the Harkonnen catches you before you hit the floor, the arm curling around your leg proving to be an unmeasurable support. His head emerges from under the dress once again, and he lets you slide down the wall, until you're seated. He sways on the balls of his feet, still towering you, even as he crouches.

You swallow, throat slightly raw from all the noise you've done moments ago, and he follows the movements of your neck muscles with greedy eyes. Still greedy, after taking so much. Truly, he was a Harkonnen. And before you can stop yourself, a thought materializes in your brain, a treacherous little information, which would shake you to the core, if your muscles weren't currently made of taffy.

He blushes pink. Your betrothed blushes pink, from the exercise of making you cum on his tongue alone. God, what a precious sight.

He must've noticed the serene smile playing upon your lips, and his nature to ruin comes to light. His hand reaches back, and you freeze in your spot, as you recognize that damned golden steak knife. The blade shines in the dimly lit corridor, making your breathing faster, questions swimming behind your eyes. You don't really want to fight him in this state, but you fucking will, if he tries anything.

- An engagement present, for you, Viper. - he rasps, licking his reddened lips in an obscene display, which doesn't repulse you quite as much as it should.

- I have nothing to give in return - your voice is stern, and your betrothed flashes you an evil grin.

Then, he presents you the tip of the knife, golden utensil hanging between his slender fingers, and you look up at him, not understanding what is expected of you. Placing one knee on the floor, Feyd Rautha lowers himself to your eye level, for the hundredth of times surprising you with the sheer grace in his movements.

- Kiss - he whispers, into the space between the both of you.

Your eyes fall to the knife, then, to him and you take a long, deep breath. Pride, your biggest flaw, takes a deadly hit, as the man twists the knife in his fingers, looking at you expectedly. You hate him, truly and deeply, and it must be showing on your face, because he sucks in a sharp breath through his teeth, as soon as your eyes meet.

Swallowing your pride, you keep his gaze, leaning towards the blade. Your lips press delicately against the cool metal and the Harkonnen flashes you a nasty, self-satisfied smirk, before slipping the knife up his sleeve and standing up.

- I'll see you back at the feast - he gives you a small bow, and you press your lips tightly together.

- Fuck you.

- After the wedding, my Viper.

And with that, he turns around.

You're left there, on the floor, your dignity in shambles, the exertion catching up to you all at once, as if his presence alone was the only thing keeping you from feeling pain. A stupid thought, you chastize yourself, before slowly pulling yourself from the cold tiles.

It takes you a couple of shameful minutes, trying to put yourself back together again. The ridiculous headdress, which has slipped all the way down from your hair, will probably never look the same, as when your Mother has styled it, but you can't find it in yourself to care.

The music still plays, as you enter the hall, and thankfully, no one notices your arrival. No one but your betrothed, who raises his drinking cup in your direction, as if nothing had happened. His face is annoying, you conclude, and turn away, your aching legs taking you towards the center of the room, where people danced and sang in celebration of your engagement. What a lovely sight, what a lovely couple. Opposites attract, right?

Bitter, aching and humiliated, you throw yourself into the crowd, let it sway you from place to place, as you dance away this whole wretched week. The whole month-long courting rituals, which were just a bullshit attempt at torture.

It's said, that when Death comes to take your soul, you're allowed one more dance before the eternal void.

So you dance.

#my writing #dune part 2 #dune x reader #feyd rautha harkonnen #feyd rautha smut #feyd rautha x reader #feyd rautha x you #tennis ball strikes again #i would also like to thank tiktok editing community for giving me material to daydream about #im seeing this movie again on thursday totally not because i want to write the most accurate smut in the next chapter

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14thgalerie · 7 months

Text

dreamin' of him

• pairing: theodore nott x reader

• now playing: a little death by the neighbourhood / fuck it i love you by lana del rey

• word count: 5.7k

• genre: fluff

— a part of this is inspired by this scenario i saw on tiktok, can't exactly remember it which vid it was. anyways enjoy this little random scenario that i'm pretty sure is horrible because i didn't bother to proofread it again.

You shot right up from your sleep, limbs tangled in the sheets that had been strewn about haphazardly. The room is still as dark as it had been when you fell asleep with only the faint light of the full moon serving as your guiding light.

You drop your head onto your hands that sit on your folded knees, pressing the heels of your palm into your eyes until you can only see white. Ignoring the pain only so that you can be rid of the images that keep flashing in your mind.

It was excruciating, it played like a broken VHS record on your parents’ television back home. Every millisecond, a frame of you in such a vulnerable embrace with–

No. Y/N, stop it.

You were grappling with your sanity, feeling yourself incredulous at how such an idea came to fruition in your mind. Several nights’ on the end of this senseless, out-of-the-world dream that popped out of nowhere. The both of you hardly spoke with one another, for Merlin’s sake.

Throwing your head back, giving up on forcing the images out of your thoughts. Your head was spinning. Slamming your temple against the solid, wooden headboard behind you until you hear a ring resonating through your ears.

How did you let yourself get into this? What happened that you are being haunted— if that’s what you would even call it — by these dreams?

It’s been days of sleepless nights and you are plain tired. He must have cursed you. There was no other reason for this, right? He could be annoying when he wanted to be.

With your back resting on the headboard, you see that your dorm mates haven’t gotten back yet. Still, you remain seated as you wonder where they are, staring at the open window to your right.

“You’re the only one that can do this to me, Y/N…”

You gasp and sit straight, slapping your forehead with your open palm, trying to chase the image away. Throwing a glance at your watch that sits on the bedside table, you see that it’s only an hour and a half before you are supposed to wake up.

Exhaling loudly, you shove the blankets away from your body, feeling a warmth creep up on you. Maybe a good, cold, and long shower will distract you for good.

Grabbing a change of clothes, you head straight for the bathroom in your dorm. Now’s one of the few times you are glad that the dorms at Hogwarts have their own showers.

Looking at the small, worn mirror above the sink, you chuckle humorlessly at how disheveled your appearance is. Anyone who sees you right now might think that your dreams are last night’s reality.

Stepping under the painful cold water, your body unconsciously jolts at the shock.

Thinking about it makes your heart race. It gives you jitters, too. The feeling wasn't much to your liking. It was distracting. Not to mention it made you feel so... vulnerable. A shiver ran up your spine. You paused for a breath to calm your heightened nerves.

This has to end soon. You couldn’t stand another night spent thinking of him, of all people.

“I uh- I need to go.” You cough, clearing your throat, hands shaking slightly as you move to stand up. “I still have this essay for Potions.”

“What- Hey wait, Y/N!” Harry reaches out, nearly missing your arms.

“Why are you suddenly running off? It’s not due until next week?” Giving you a worried look. “Are you alright?”

“Yes, Harry. I feel extraordinarily perfect, I just- I wanna go back to my room right now.” You sigh, looking up at him. Your body remains tense under his tight grip. “So please let me go.”

Harry tries to not look disappointed, giving a quick glance back at your two other friends who watch you in silence. “Alright then, but if you need anything, you know where to find us.”

Giving him a small nod before pivoting in your heel, you walked straight to the Great Hall's large entryway. You ignored the way your skin burned with the intensity of the searing eyes that had locked onto you since its entry.

“Why did you leave in such a hurry?” A cool voice asks from behind you.

You freeze.

“Pardon?” You conjure up a reply, bluntly.

“Ok- what’s got your knickers in a twist?”

“Nothing!” You reply defensively. Wanting nothing more than to be back within the confines of your dorm room.

“Alright, alright. I got it.” The cool, calm voice waves off an erratic rhythm to your heart. You continue to stare forward along the corridor, paying no mind as he circles around until there is a face attached to the voice. “I was just wondering why you skittered out of the Hall faster than when you were caught by Filch with the Weasley twins.”

Tilting your chin towards your chest, “What do you want, Nott?”

“Nothing.” He shrugged, “I was just curious, that is all.”

You scoff at the mockery clear in his tone. “Seriously, what is it? Because if you’re only here to be an annoying twat, I have better places to be.”

You purposely bump into his shoulder as you make your way past him. Not in the mood to play along with him right now. Not when that stupid smirk of his is reeling images that you have been tirelessly trying to be rid of. Images that are the cause of your cranky attitude in the mornings.

From the corner of your eyes, you see him cock his head slightly to the right. Another thing you hate. He becomes more incessantly annoying when you are visibly annoyed by him.

“Nott.” You warn.

“What?“ He asks, amusement clear in his tone. “Am I not allowed to walk the same grounds that you do now?”

“Walk elsewhere. I am quite sure that you know of other paths from here to wherever you are to go. With your many endeavors, it’ll be stupid if you didn’t.” You murmur the latter under your breath.

“What was that?” He catches up to you, walking leisurely with his long legs. “Didn’t quite hear that last part properly.”

Before you could reply, a shout from the courtyard called both of your attention. A redhead girl from Ravenclaw was waving in your direction. You turn to look at Theodore who has now turned his sight back to you.

“I think she’s waiting for you.” You swiftly walk towards your house tower, making haste before he follows you again.

Unbeknownst to you, his stare remains fixated on you until your figure disappears around the corner. Only then does he wave back at the girl and make a quick return to the Hall where he left his friends mid-conversation.

It wasn’t the last that you see of Theodore after, nor was it the last morning when you woke up groggy and irritated at the lack of sleep. It seems that since then, the both of you find yourselves orbiting each other much more often than before.

Not that you found it all disappointing.

There were times that he was a good companion to have around— forget the hooded eyes that left you conscious every time. When he isn’t being an annoying twat, he knew how to hold a conversation with you; your lack of similarities is a good point as you were able to share things that the other didn’t know of.

But in truth, Theodore searched for you. In the boisterous chatters of students in the corridors, between the towering bookshelves of the library, through the window of the dimly lit Potions classroom where he has a clear view of Hagrid’s hut where you and your friends frequent.

He looks for you in all places, unable to help himself from an attempt to have a glimpse of you.

He did give his best efforts to tuck away his inexplainable attraction to you recently, and he wouldn’t dare admit that there is even a chance that he does. His denial was a fortress but cracks appeared within its walls with each time he talks to you.

“She’s at the Hospital Wing.” Blaise hesitatingly brings up.

He almost jerks up from his comfortable position on the couch where he and Blaise are observers of their other friend’s drunken endeavors. But he manages to grab a hold of himself before the other notices.

“Why bother telling me?” His forced indifference is not as apathetic as he wished it to be. “I don’t care.”

“Oh shut up, Theo. I have never seen you so utterly fond of another girl like you do with her.” Blaise retracts back to what he was gonna say, “Anyways, I hear she will be a volunteer ahead of the Quidditch match this Sunday.”

He doesn’t reply, letting the words of his friend slip from one ear to another. You were interesting. He was unsure how, in the many years you’ve known one another, that you caught his eye now.

“She’s nice, not unlike some of her friends at Gryffindor.” Blaise continues with his taunting, eager to see a reaction from Theo. “Even managed to convince me to be her partner for Herbology.”

Theo makes a noise in a mix between a scoff and a chuckle. “From the sound of how you speak of her, it’s like you’re the one that has caught butterflies.”

Blaise simply hums, nodding to himself. “Maybe.”

Not another word slips from him again. The silence of his relinquishment makes Theo’s heart skip a nervous beat. Blaise never gives up that easily.

“Hello there.” A voice makes you look up from your book which you have been drowned in since hours ago. To your surprise, it was Blaise.

“What are you doing here?” You ask. Curious why he had so suddenly appeared beside you while you were studying. You scour your brain, trying to remember if you had a project with him that ultimately passed by you.

“Go to Hogsmeade with me later.” Blaise blurts out while you gather your books that are scattered along the table.

“Huh?” You look up at him with wide eyes. You give out a confused laugh. Maybe you didn’t understand him, right? “Did I hear you right? Hogsmeade? The two of us?”

“Well, don’t make it sound like it’s such an atrocious thing.” He makes a sound of mock offense; even making the choice to put a hand above his chest. To which you vehemently shake your head.

“Gosh no! It’s just-“ You trail off. “Why all of a sudden?”

“Nothing at all…” He shrugs, but that look on his face tells you entirely different. The mischievous expression that is ever so slightly slipping through. “Just wanted to hang out with a good friend of mine.”

You look at him with a confused frown, unsure of what he’s doing. “Since when were we good friends? Last I checked we only talked every now and then and it was really only just for projects.”

“Just come with me, will you?”

“No.” You shake your head to further make your point. “Tell me why first and maybe I’ll consider.”

Blaise sighs, giving up. He had expected that you would not be giving in so easily to his request, after all, you weren’t really that close. But he still thought that it was worth the try, he is tired of Theo acting like he’s better than his emotions. He decides to tell you.

Well… somewhat.

“Alright, lady. I want to make a friend of mine jealous.” You hummed, listening intently. Wondering why he chose you to do it. “Also, because you’re the only person that I genuinely enjoy hanging with from other houses.”

“Will you tell me who’s the friend?” You ask.

“No.” He quickly replies, “But Y/N…I’ll treat you with anything you want at the Three Broomsticks or wherever else. Just please.” He draws out the please, adding hints or really a dump load of sweetness to it to charm you.

You think for a second more before finally giving him a nod. “Ok, but you’ll have to come with me to Honeydukes. Payback for doing whatever it is you’re planning.”

“You can have whatever you want. I’ll wait for you by the Fat Lady.” Blaise tells you before walking off with a huge grin on his face.

“Y/N?”

And when you turned your head, a surprised Blaize looked at you with a smile, apparently he had just been in mid-conversation with a fellow Slytherin as he hung about the entrance.

He whistled as he wasted no time approaching you, waving a curt goodbye to his previous companion.

“Remind me why you never wear clothes other than your uniform?” He asks, his eyes unabashedly trailing over you. Though not in a predatory way that leaves you uncomfortable.

“Because it’s a hassle having to think of an outfit when I could just put a uniform on and call it a day.”

He hums, nodding as he thought about it.

“Well you look good in your non-school clothes, you should wear them more often.” He suggests, although he quickly amends it. “Not that I’m saying you don’t look great normally, it’s just nice to see how you would personally choose the clothes you wear. It kind of reflects a lot of your personality more.”

The two of you make no rush as you travel to Hogsmeade along with the other students, chuckling at the eager third-years who are freely roaming around. Engaging in small talk all the way.

“What’s got you in such a sour mood?” You rolled your eyes at Theo, who has done nothing but glare at Blaise who sits beside you with such harsh blinding venom. “If all you plan to do here is to murder Blaise in a million ways inside your mind, then please do it some other time.”

The man beside you couldn’t help the amused choke that escapes him as he sips his glass of Butterbeer.

Theo finally breaks his lone stare down and shifts his attention to you. “Since when did you two hang about by yourselves?”

“We always have-“ Blaise starts to explain but he is cut off by a kick to his shin that makes his knee jerk up and hit the table.

“I wasn’t talking to you.”

His eyes remained fixated on you still, a medley of emotions behind them that you couldn’t exactly pinpoint.

“Well, Y/N? I’m waiting for you here.” He impatiently asks. “Are you two on a date?”

“Theo, if you think that we are, then why did you even come here?” You roll your eyes at whatever antics that the both of them are trying. Not realising that you called him by his nickname, usually reserved for his close friends.

“Well-“ He stammered, unable to explain why exactly did he approach you all of a sudden. “Blaise doesn’t have that good of a reputation with girls and I wanted to make sure he’s not trying anything with you.”

Blaise clears his throat in an attempt to remind his friend that he is still sitting at the table, clearly within earshot of whatever slander he’s being put to.

“I can hardly think of a reason why you would if he does, but we were just having a conversation as friends, Theo.” You finally answer. “Is it that much of a surprise that I tolerate one of you?”

“He wants it to be him.” The man beside you mutters under his breath which you ignore, thinking it is only a jab.

Theo once again kicks Blaise under the table, making the latter swear under his breath.

While the two of them bicker like they are some man-child, you spot Hermione and the rest of your friends coming in through a tiny door and sitting at a table by the staircase. You scoot over until you are out of the seat, glad that you chose to sit at the open end of the table, without making a noise.

You make quick haste to transfer to your friends' table without garnering attention from the two Slytherin boys.

“Hide me.” You drop your heavy body on the seat beside Harry, trying your best to hunch over his relatively short upper body.

The three instead laugh at your obvious demise, Ron not even trying to hide his amusement with such a burst of boisterous laughter. Unlike you, the three had noticed how Theodore Nott had been seen beside you much more often than necessary. At first, it was nothing that they really paid attention to, but when you told them of your otherwise eventful dreams…they began to have other thoughts.

It was clear that both of you were attracted to one another except for yourselves. And it’s been a hilarious sight to be an audience to but they are beginning to tire of your constant zoning off when the other is in your peripheral.

“What even is with you and Blaise coming to Hogsmeade together?” Ron asks. “I thought you liked Nott.”

You exhaled in exasperation, “How many times do I have to tell you that I don’t like him.” Gritting your teeth and clenching your jaw at the blatant teasing. “I am seriously beginning to regret telling you about my dreams.”

You watch as Harry stands to grab drinks for the rest of you guys, trying to explain why you came here. Not forgetting to mention how Theo had suddenly the conversation you’ve been having with Blaise.

You were shocked to find that the both of you actually shared a lot of the same interests in various aspects; books, music, values, name it all. So despite your previous disinclination to agree with his idea that you would get along well, you thoroughly enjoyed the short time that you spent alone.

His genuine interest in the many muggle creations that you’ve mentioned has made you all giddy. Telling him of all and everything that he must try, making a mental note to give him some things that you have in your dorm.

On the other end, Blaise shared a few of his interests with you— though it was only very few, given that the wizarding world does not really pay much attention to those kinds of things, especially the purebloods.

“So just because he bribed you with anything you want from Honeydukes, you agreed? Y/N!” Hermione exclaims, to which you only answer her with wide eyes.

“What?” You ask, furrowing your eyebrows at the bewildered expression on her face.

“You’ve been to Hogwarts for how many years now and yet you have no idea what going to Hogsmeade with only one person insinuates?”

“Uh- What?”

“That you two are going on a date of course?” She practically scolds you. Maybe you shouldn’t laugh at Ron anymore when she becomes like this. It's no joke that it feels like you could be the stupidest person on the planet.

“We’re only friends, for Merlin’s sake! Well, we became friends today.” You roll your eyes. “It’s not my fault that is what might people think.”

Harry and Ron look at each other with more than amused grins on their faces.

“I think I finally know why Nott was practically making the snow melt under his feet earlier,” Ron remarks. To which you give him a confused look, unsure what he meant.

“What?”

“Well, before we came in here, we saw Nott almost stomp his way to here. I swear that I actually saw steam coming out of his ears.” Ron exaggeratingly shares, taking a sip out of his pint glass. “I thought he was about to burn this place down to ashes with how he looked so mad.”

That explains why he’s being more moody than usual.

“What’s that got to do with Blaise and I?” You finally ask the question that’s been brewing in you since he mentioned it.

But the only response you get is a look of disbelief from all three of them. Each one just about screaming “Are you being serious?” without saying anything.

“Are you truly that dense Y/N?” Harry asks, his hand reaching out to pat you on the shoulder.

You push him off, glaring at him. “No, but seriously what do you mean?”

“Even Harry and Ron, oblivious as they come, recognise that Nott has some kind of interest in you.” Hermione explains, “I don’t even know if he realised it himself but the two of you are oozing love hearts everywhere you go. It’s torture to see how you both ignore it.”

You're left dumbfounded, feeling her cheeks flush with embarrassment at the mere suggestion. Your thoughts racing as you consider Hermione's words. Theodore Nott, the mysterious and enigmatic Slytherin, having an interest in you? It was a revelation that sent your mind reeling, and you couldn't help but wonder if you had been completely oblivious to his feelings all along.

No. That’s just… wrong. This had to be another one of their pranks again. Ever since you confided in them of your dreams, they’ve been ceaselessly teasing you with Theo. Yeah, this must be it.

You chose to respond in a haughty tone, in an attempt to mask her flustered feelings. “Gosh, if this is what spurs in your minds when I tell you about my struggles at night, then I’d rather just keep them to myself from now on. Find something else to speculate about.”

Unbeknownst to you, while you were so flustered trying to deny anything and everything they say of you and Theo, Harry, Ron, and Hermione had mentally orchestrated a plan. Harry subtly made a signal to the other two to play along as he saw Theo stand up from his heated conversation with Blaise to approach you four.

With sly smiles quickly masked, they leaned in closer to you and feigned curiosity.

“Alright then,” Ron begins, “But I heard from Hermione that you had another dream last night. Is it as juicy as last time?”

Harry chimed in, his eyebrows raised suggestively. “Yes, please spill the details. We’re all ears.”

Caught off guard by their sudden and out-of-place interest. “I said that I’m never telling you of anything again. And it's not juicy! Please don't ever use that word ever again.” You never wanted to divulge anything related to your rather steamy dreams again to your friends.

“This is the last time, we promise! And we promise to not annoy you any more with Nott.” Hermione exclaims though you reach out to slap her on her arm at how loudly she said it. Looking around the bustling crowd to see if anyone heard it, confused when you see Blaise sitting with somebody else now, probably some friends from Slytherin, Theo nowhere in sight.

Little did she know that Theo had indeed overheard their conversation and as he was slowly nearing their table, curiosity piqued as he heard his name. He slowed in his steps, waiting to hear more.

Your face turned an even deeper shade of crimson as you think back to last night, a bit different— a whole lot different. The dream had left you truly confused because it was nothing like the otherwise steamy ones you had. It was unsettlingly normal, and it has left you with a sense of unease that left you unable to sleep properly, terrified at what this means.

You cleared your throat, trying to maintain some semblance of composure. "Well, it was just a, you know, like the ones I told you. Nothing too different. I still hate it."

Hermione's eyes sparkled with mischief as she leaned in, feigning innocence. "From the look on your face, it seems to be different. Tell us about it, pretty please."

You hesitated but then began to describe the dream in the most vague and unassuming way possible, but you knew no matter what you said, they would use this to tease you endlessly. "Alright, alright. So, in the dream, I was in the Black Lake, and there was a gentle, warm breeze. I was walking with someone, and it was peaceful. It was like…everything is normal. No war, no problems, no animosity, just us walking like any normal person.”

Harry and Ron exchanged knowing glances, while Hermione continued to prod gently. "And who were you walking with, Y/N?"

Your gaze darted around the table, avoiding eye contact. Not seeing how their eyes slightly shifted behind you. "Well, it was just someone... you know, a dream version of someone I know. Like you don’t know already."

Hermione shook her head, “Yeah but this is different, so it must be somebody else right?”

“Hermione…It’s Theo, who else.”

"Y/N…" You hear a voice behind you call out in a low tone, with a thread of voice.

Your eyes widen, filled to the brim with alertness and humiliation. Your mother was right, one day this mouth will get you in trouble— not that it hasn’t been proven countless times before— but now nothing made you want to become more one with the ground than this moment.

You swallow hard and turn around, instantly the mortification in your features becomes tenfold. There it is— the stupid, bloody smirk that is always present on his stupid, pretty face when he has caught you red-handed.

“Don’t.” You warn.

He leans his entire weight back on the wooden post behind him, staring down at you with a look of satisfaction, unapologetically reveling in your obvious embarrassment.

“Oh, but I must.” He drawls, his eyes gleaming with mischief.

Your frustration surges as you fold your arms, attempting to salvage a shred of dignity in this awkward moment. You give him a glare before turning back front facing to the table.

“You are truly insufferable, you know that?”

Without even being able to see it, you already know that his grin widens at your reply. “Guilty, I’m afraid.”

Theo pushed himself off the wooden post and sauntered closer to where you were sitting, making your heart stutter. The playful glint in his eyes brings forth an image that you would rather not see right now.

"But what's the fun in letting you off the hook so easily? It’s not every day that I find out somebody has been kept awake all night because of me."

You could only continue to cast a withering look at him as you shook your head. "You just love tormenting me, don't you?"

He sits down on the seat next to you, ignoring the other occupants who have reserved to remain quiet. Truly enjoying the show that you, unfortunately, are the star of. He inches closer to you until you can almost feel your eyelashes flutter at his breath.

“Only because I quite enjoy how flustered you can be.” He admits softly, and in that moment the playful teasing in his voice gives way to something else.

A different kind of tension.

Not one that you would like to be a part of.

“Well, that would be the last of it.”

Theo and your friends are left bewildered when you suddenly stand and disappear among the group of rowdy students.

His eyebrows furrow and his gleaming expression turns into one of confusion and a hint of hurt and disappointment. “What just happened?”

When he finally turns to look at your friends, all they do is share uneasy glances with each other. They were unsure of how to respond to Theo’s question when they could hardly comprehend what had only occurred.

Hermione opens her mouth to say something but closes it once more when the words in her mind are a jumble.

“Astronomy Tower.” He hears someone say. His cerulean blue eyes that somehow turned grey shifted to the bespectacled boy sitting a chair away from him. “Go.”

“Why did you run off?” You ignore the voice that shatters the silence. The bristles of the wind brush against your clothes. Your head thrumming as the sound of your shoes clicking against the concrete permeates into the air.

He calls you by your name with a gentleness that sends tingles down your spine. But yet again, you ignore him. Choosing to stare intently at the rust that forms by the railing in front of you, the complex chemical reaction is seemingly more interesting to you now.

“Y/N please…I don't know what’s going on your mind right now but we need to talk.” He moves to stand next to you, placing his arms on the barrier. “I will say it, no matter if you want to listen or not. We clearly have feelings for each other.”

You want to say that you are surprised that he is being so straightforward right now, but it’s evident that someone had to stop whatever dance the both of you had been playing at for the past month already.

“And that’s confirmed by what I heard earlier.” He chuckles in an attempt to lighten up the mood. “Gods, I hate you so much.”

“Your dreams say otherwise.” He continues with his teasing.

“Stop it. As if you’re any better with how you acted with Blaise earlier.” You hit him back. “Blaise is an annoying ass who meddles in my business way more often than necessary. But I guess he did one thing right.”

“What?” You ask, turning your body to lean on the railing, facing him.

“He kept bothering me about you, and I guess he got tired and decided to make a move leading us to this moment.”

“He can be pretty persuasive when he wants to be." You agree. Silence befalling after.

“Gods, I don’t know what happened but it’s you.” He breathes heavily.

A laugh escapes your chest, “If somebody came to us two months ago and told us that we’d be acting like this, I would think they’re mental.”

Theo grins at you, making you giggle to see the little fang on the corner of his mouth. He places his hands on your cheeks and cradles your face, making a move to press his forehead to yours as he nears.

The vivid, flashing images of Theo from your dreams doesn’t hold a candle to the real thing. The skin under his touch tingled and it made you itch to reach out with your fingertips, feeling as if you would crumble beneath his hands.

You pull away to stare up at him. The cold that typically veils over his eyes are gone as they reciprocate your stare with an even warmer touch. Every nerve ends in you lighting up with a golden electricity.

Theo opened his mouth, closed it again, opened it once more, and then shut it, apparently struggling to remember how to talk.

So, he decided that actions seem to be your thing anyways, as the two of you are quite horrible at talking.

Carefully, almost as if he’s never done it before, Theo leans forward and presses his lips against yours so gently. All you can think about is him even as you respond to his kiss, melting against the touch.

He pressed himself into you, attempting to tangle your bodies together. He wants to feel every inch of you against his skin, willing the gods to let you be one. Hell, he wanted to climb into your ribcage and possibly live out the rest of his days inside your heart.

You gasp as his hands creep under your shirt and trail along your lower back, though he doesn’t wander. He takes this as an opportunity to slip his tongue inside your mouth, exploring eagerly.

You tilt forward, answering his devotion with an equal eagerness. In your distraction, your hands slide from their hold on his shirt and travel until your fingertips meet behind his nape.

This goes for a while before a sudden splash from the waters below you makes you jump apart, though still very much physically attached. His arms were still tightly wound around your waist.

“I think that’s a sign we should stop for now.”

“Yeah, definitely.”

Laughter met in the air between you—sweet, short, intertwined. Although you would like to have another one of your dreams to come true, you want to take it slow. The idea that he thought of you as you did to him has still not truly sunk into your mind.

Even now as he leans his face slightly towards yours again and begins to leave soft, tender kisses all over your cheek, making butterflies appear in your stomach.

“Gods, I just realised something.” You laugh all of a sudden, making him stand up straight to look at you curiously. “What is it?”

“I just made Ron win a bet for the first time since we all became friends.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, he was the first person to tease me about these stupid dreams–”

“Excuse me, I rather think it’s not.” He interrupts playfully raising an eyebrow. “Shush.”

“Anyways,” You continue, “Harry and Hermione initially thought it was nothing and that it probably would stop after a while— obviously not. So Ron set a bet that I’ll end up having feelings for you or we’ll end up together.”

He chuckles, his eyes glinting with amusement. “I’m still surprised they didn’t hate the idea. With us being in literal houses that hate each other.”

“They’re only annoyed at some of you, honestly. The ones that perpetuate the ‘Slytherin’ motto too much.”

"Plus," he continued, the joking tone in his voice fading a bit, "even if they did have complaints, I would have ignored every single one and still pursued you."

“As if! You stormed to Hogsmeade just to interrupt our ‘date’ and you wouldn’t even admit it. If it weren’t for what our friends did, we wouldn’t be having this conversation right now.”

“Let me pretend, for goodness’ sake woman!”

His playful exasperation brought a genuine smile to your face, and for a moment, the world around you seemed to fade as you got lost in the playful banter you're used to with him.

masterlist

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

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mxtantrights · 2 months

Text

where you go, I go

a/n: okay so while I'm writing this whole series for azriel just know that I had this other recurring dream about a plot like this. I couldn't really make it a fully fleshed out story with a happy ending so I decided to type it all out and make it a one-shot with angst and not a lot of comfort (this is your warning, this doesn't end happily) anyways with all of that said, if you decide to read this please enjoy and tell me what you think! <333 also happy valentines day <333

azriel x assassin!fem!reader

5.1k words

The day court was home to many things. Vibrant colors, warm waters, ancient books and of course the very ancient and magical day blade. It's your job to know where that this is at all times.

You can't possibly understand why the shadow singer would try to steal it. Try being the operative word here. While you did sense him enter your court and break into the room where the blade was, it wouldn't have mattered.

Seeing as it is your job to protect the blade at all costs, it never leaves your sight. But that didn't mean you couldn't have fun with those who wanted so badly to get it.

In your pocket you feel a piece of paper appearing suddenly. You reach inside and unfold it. It's Helion. He's requesting your presence. You smile to yourself, this would be fun.

You leave your hiding place, the palace had many hidden rooms and hallways, and walk over to Helion's day room. As you approach from the hallway you can hear multiple conversations being had.

The door is closed so you open it slightly.

"There she is! Come in and greet my guests!" he says happily.

You make sure you face is kept neutral. You had an image to upkeep in this court.

The people respect you and fear you in the same breath. You don't go around killing people but you do often get justice in ways that aren't in the parameters of the law. Whether that be stringing up robbers and looters from their pants, or burning down the houses of dirty criminals.

You keep your eyes straight, not looking any of his guests in the eye. You walk until you are standing behind Helion who sits in his usual seat.

"I was just telling Feyre that I enjoy the new company. This is the inner circle." he says to you.

You nod once.

"She doesn't talk?" Nesta asks.

You know all of them. It's your duty to know The Who's who of the courts. The inner circle of the night court. High Lord Rhysand and High Lady Feyre-Curse breaker. Her sisters Elaine and Nesta. Rhysand's brothers Cassian and Azriel. Morrigan, past fiancee of Eris Vanserra. Amren, a mythical creature of serious power.

Helion laughs at Nesta's question. He knows you talk. He knows you very well, seeing as he practically raised you. But that information isn't public knowledge.

"She does, but not when theres something wrong." Helion answers.

You look at all of them now. How the girl closest to the shadow singer, Elaine, looks worried. And it's quick, you almost don't catch it, but you're so good at your job at this point.

"Trouble in the day court?" Rhysand says.

You lean over and whisper into Helion's ear about the blade. How the shadow singer came here to steal it, on a mission from his high lord. How he thinks he got away with it.

The room goes quiet as you pull back and Helion sits back in his chair. He loves the dramatics you pull off every single time someone tries to take the blade. The last person you caught was really delighted to be drowned in glitter, confetti and manure.

"Is there something you're forgetting?" Helion asks.

Rhysand looks at his inner circle with an incredulous smile. Then he looks to you, no doubt trying to read your mind. You can't imagine this will go over well either.

You can't feel it. The daemati powers that certain fae have don't work on you. You're not really sure why. Might have something to do with your unknown lineage. Or your overall hardheadedness-so Helion says.

Rhysand cocks his head to the side at your unmoving posture. He's still looking at you. You however are taking in the shadow singer. He's sitting there, not bothering to look at anyone. He must really think he got the blade.

"What would that be?" Feyre asks this time.

"Well, when you want something that another has you usually ask." Helion says.

At that everyone at the table grows grim. Caught red handed is what it seems like. You still manage to hide you smile though.

"Helion..." Rhysand starts.

"If you were anyone else I would have you locked up already. But lucky for me my security system is top notch." Helion smiles and grabs his glass for another sip of what could only be wine.

At his words the shadow singer now looks at the high lord. Your high lord. His face bares no emotion, like he can't afford to give a way a secret or smile.

You've heard about his reputation. But at this point that's all it is. He couldn't even steal from you correctly. This has to be the most interesting thing that's happened this year. You don't get around to much outsider business, you tend to stay out of it.

"I don't think it is." the shadow singer says.

Helion stifles a laugh. But you can hear it. And you know if you can hear it they all can. The room is big but not big enough that guests at a table can't hear things.

"Care to relieve them of their misery?" he looks up to you and asks.

You didn't really want to. But then again you'd have to play nice with them. Helion seems to like this group. Or most likely, his son is friends with this group and he wants to be friends with his son.

You sigh, "Take out the blade."

You watch in amusement as everyone at the table looks at each other. As if they all don't know what they really came here for. The shadow singer though, he's different. He's looking right at you.

His shadows materialize the blade right on the table for everyone to see. Cassian, gives him a look. But Azriel doesn't seem to see it or care.

"That's not the blade." Helion quips.

You call the blade to you with your powers. Being gifted with the ability to control sun made objects is fun most of the time. Most living things are sun made in a sense. So really you could control all things, to a certain extent.

The blade comes flying into your hand. As soon as it makes contact with your skin it transforms. The metal of the blade turns into a vibrant green stem. And the helm turns into the face of a sunflower.

Azriel seems to go through a range of emotions. First confusion. Then understanding. And then the last one, well you can't actually pin down the last one. You've gotten good at reading people but he's harder than others.

"The blade is safe in the day court, where it will remain until you ask for it." Helion says.

Rhysand lets of a breath, "I am sorry about lying, but we're short on time."

"And I thought our alliance was stronger than that. I am sorry too." Helion replies.

Helion stands from his seat, causing the others to match his actions. The sound of chairs on marble floors reaches your ears. You take a step back and cross your hands behind your back.

"We need the blade for a mission." Feyre speaks.

"It could be a simple mission or the end of the world. The fact that you have no respect to ask me tells me everything I need to know." Helion says casually.

You know that he is hurt by their lying. It's not deep, but it's there. He thought he could trust them. He thought because they had good relations with him before that they were better than the actions they are displaying right now.

Of course you know of the good bond between them. Which is why you don't understand why they didn't just ask. Unless there is a well justified reason. Why not ask the high lord for the blade unless he was implicated somehow.

How could Helion be implicated in a mission from the night court. He doesn't know anything, or he would have offered them the blade himself. No this is something he's not at the center of. But it still concerns him.

Lucien. You look at the guests around the room. He is no where to be found. True he's not part of the inner circle. He's an emissary. But if it was something the inner circle could simply ask Helion for, why not butter him up with his son?

Lucien may or may not know what going on.

"Where's Lucien?" you ask.

At you question all of the heads move to you. Right, you hadn't spoken to them this whole time. Well you weren't going to give them a smile and greet them kindly.

"What business do you have with him?" Nesta asks.

"He's in Spring. Managing relations." Rhysand answers.

You nod your head. Spring. If that answer can even be trusted. Let's say you do trust it for the moment.

The inner circle needs the day blade. They didn't want to ask for it. They didn't let Lucien come.

"Were you planning on returning it?" you ask again.

Nesta, rolls her eyes at your question. You can't help the giddiness you feel of getting under her skin. You hardly did anything to warrant it. But it felt kind of good.

"As soon as we were done." Azriel answers this time.

You don't ignore the stress he puts not he word soon. You also don't ignore the way his eyes seem to never leave yours.

"That blade is our most powerful weapon. We don't just give it out to anyone." Helion chimes in.

He maneuvers around his chair and stands behind you. When he grips both of your shoulders with his hands, you can tell he's smiling even if you can't see him.

"But I will let you use it," Helion continues, "on one condition."

"Go ahead." Rhysand says.

"Wherever the blade goes, she goes." Helion says.

"That won't be necessary." Nesta says.

At the same time Cassian says, "That's odd."

Helion shrugs his shoulders and lets go of you. He leans into your ear to whisper his next words very carefully. When you understand him and what he wants, you nod your head only once.

He grabs the sunflower from your hands as you uncross them from behind you. Helion stands next to you now. You watch as Helion brings the flower up to his nose and gives it a sniff.

"We agree to those terms." Azriel speaks up.

"Woah hold on-" Rhysand tries to cut in.

"Great. I think this will be beneficial to both courts." your high lord agrees.

You turn to face him now, your back towards the guests. Helion was looking at you with a very faint smile. You heard every word he whispered to you. And you understand the reason why: Family.

What you don't get it is why he won't just speak to Lucien himself. Why play nice with a high lord that knows his son when he can just reach out to him? Invite him to the day court or send him a letter.

Everyone in this room knows Lucien is Helion's son, except Lucien. And now your mission is to tell him so that he might finally have a true place to call home.

Helion wouldn't so easily agree to lending out the blade like this if it weren't for Lucien. And the night court wouldn't try to steal it if Lucien did know, because he could just ask on their behalf.

Your shoulders sag at the thought. You had no interactions with Lucien. You only ever heard of him from Helion and he only started referring to him as his son a couple of months ago.

It'll be you. You'll be the one to see him, come eye to eye to him, and tell him the truth.

You can see it in his eyes. The sadness. You'd do anything for him. He's a father figure to you. And you'll see this through, for his sake and Lucien's too.

"Promise me you'll smile a little bit during your trip." Helion says.

"The Sun Wraith doesn't smile." you answer.

"You're the Sun Wraith?" Cassian's voice asks.

You turn around and face the general. It's all over his face. The look of shock. It wasn't hard to become something of a legend in this court and the ones surrounding it.

"Even people in the night court are scared of you." Nesta says.

On her face seems to be another emotion. Not fear. Not shock. Something lighter amongst the surface. Admiration maybe? You aren't too sure.

"I'll grab my things." you say to no one in particular.

"And the blade." Azriel's voice sounds.

"I never go anywhere without it." you say, reaching behind you.

Grabbing the flaps of your yellow vest you flip it over and your hand wraps around the hilt of the blade. You pull it out for all of them to see.

"Best security in all of the courts." Helion jokes.

THREE WEEKS LATER

The mission has barely begun and you hate it here. You hate it in the night court. The days are shorter and you feel pale without even looking into a mirror most days. Nothing beats the sun of the day court on your skin.

Amren had told you it would get better. After your first meeting she had taken a liking to you. You were told by several members in the inner court that it was no easy feat. She talked to you the most out of everyone.

Second to her, came Nesta who was just curious about the things you allegedly did or did not do. You held off on telling her anything too juicy. It was funny toying with her with the details. She also likes your fighting style. Morrigan too.

Azriel talks to you. Sometimes. He's friendly to a point. Cassian is more friendlier than him but you're starting to understand it's just in his nature. Feyre and Rhysand are cordial. Elaine is, well you've been told that she's nice but you haven't really seen it. She greets you but that's it.

The inner circle didn't get on your nerves. But you also had your own mission. Deliver the news to Lucien that Beron isn't his father, Helion is.

Which is why though this whirlwind of a mission you're laying down on path of grass outside of the House of Wind. Weird. What was even weirder was the fact that Velaris, a secret city inside of the night court, has existed for so long with no one none the wiser.

You squeeze your eyes shut. Trying to turn your brain off. It wasn't working. The sun wasn't the same, it does't feel the same. You can't call off this mission either.

"Is this what you do in the day court?"

You'd know that voice anywhere. Which is weird to say as you've known the male for a couple of weeks now. But it's true. Azriel's voice was distinguishable from others. A bit low, but still soft. Clear.

"Yes." you answer.

"Is that all the explanation you can give me?"

"Yes."

You think he'll go away. He plays nice because you have the blade. He needs the blade, which means he needs you. Once he no loner needs the blade he won't need you.

When you hear the sound of him getting closer you want so badly to open your eyes. But you don't. You keep them closed. As much as you want to open them and see what he's doing.

The sound of him laying down beside you on the grass is one you weren't expecting. Also the feeling of soft cold tendrils nipping at your arm.

"It feels...nice. A bit cold." he speaks.

Of course he'd complain about he cold. Nesta had told you that Illyrians were whiny babies. You'd seen it personally when Cassian couldn't get a certain dish because there were no more potatoes for the day.

And now here his brother is. Complaining.

You hold up your left hand, the one close to him.

"Give me your hand." you command.

You half expect him to decline. To maybe even get up and leave. Or maybe say that he doesn't mind the cold. The other half of you expects him to just listen you-to see where it goes.

He takes your hand. You focus on letting the additional warmth you normally feel from the sun flow from your hand and into his.

Out of all the things you half expect and do expect, his laugh is something you don't plan for. It's deep. It comes from his core. It's gentle too. Which you wouldn't get just from looking at him.

"It's warm." he says.

"That's how the sun feels in the day court." you answer.

"I think you just spoke more than three words to me."

You scoff, "Don't get used to it."

"That was four words."

"Shut up."

"Two. We're regressing."

"Azriel."

"I'll be quiet now."

This is how you spend your time. If you are not training with Morrigan, Amren and Nesta. Or not eating with Cassian in the kitchen. You are laying out on the grass with Azriel in the sun.

It happens more times than you care to admit as the mission goes on.

ONE MONTH LATER

This place, Velaris, was starting to grow on you. You didn't want to admit that out loud, or in your letters to Helion. Or how well you were gettign on with Azriel. The trips into the city, the lingering glances and words with hidden layers.

You letters should only have on subject, Lucien.

He has been back from the spring court for two weeks now. You've taken that time to get to know him. You couldn't fathom unleashing the truth on him as a stranger. You don't need to be his friend. But he needs to at least trust the words coming out of your mouth when you say them.

Family dinner they called it. Even though only three of them were related to each other. But you guess that what makes their family unique. They choose each other, every day.

This meal was special. Seeing as you had finished the mission that Helion sent you on to protect the blade. There was a fae that needed to be tracked down and would only come out of hiding if he could see the sun blade.

Of course you didn't let him, but you did convince him that the fake blade you passed onto him was the real thing. When he found it wasn't after he revealed his intentions with it he got angry.

Angry enough to rain hellfire down on both you and Azriel. If it weren't for your fast thinking and powers you both wouldn't have made it out in one piece.

Now you're sat with the inner circle to celebrate your feat.

Someone clears their throat. This drags your gaze from the redheaded male to the dark haired one. The both of them were sitting in front of you.

How the mother is cruel and precious at the same time. One male is your mission which you planned for. The other male you didn't plan for, and yet...

"Az was asking if you miss home." Morrigan says from your side.

"Dearly. But its not bad here." You speak, not quite realizing what you just did.

You watch as Azriel's smile grows and grows on is lips. It hits you then.

"Wipe that smile off your face before I take it back." you say to him.

"No I don't think I will." he jokes.

You shake your head with a light laugh. You can pick up on his laugh too from across the table.

"Well if it means anything, you fit in well here." Amren speaks up.

Everyone at the table quiets down at that. You look over at her, peering around Morrigan. You nod once at the sentiment.

"You need to tell him." Elaine says suddenly.

You look to her sharply. She's gotten better about speaking to you. More than a greeting but still less than a conversation. It does weird you out some times but you let it go for the most part.

"Oh?" you ask rhetorically.

"Elaine I don't think we should discuss this here." Feyre starts.

"He needs to know." Elaine says again.

It upsets you. She is his mate. She is the one connected to him. She has known this secret longer than you. But you'll be the one to tell him? She doesn't want to get her hands dirty. None of them do.

"What do I need to know?" Lucien asks all of a sudden.

You look to him. Hoping nothin is being given away by your face. When no one answers him he scoffs lightly to himself and looks around at the table.

This is happening now.

"It's obviously about me, none of you can look me in the eye except for her." Lucien continues.

"I can tell you, in private." you offer.

He nods his head and gets up from his seat. You follow his lead and get up too. The two of you walk out of the dining room and onto the balcony. You pull the door close behind you.

"Before you say anything, do they all know about this?" he asks.

He can't be asking about Elaine. She's the whole reason you're having this conversation right now. No, he's talking about Feyre. His friend. Or who he thought was his friend.

What can be left of a friendship after a lie like this?

"Yes." you answer simply.

Lucien shakes his head, "Okay, you can tell me now."

You take him in. The tense shoulders. The bowed head. His hair is perfectly combed behind his back. In this light, he looks like Helion. Not too much, but just enough.

How do you up end someone's life?

"Lucien do you ever think about what it felt like growing up with Beron as your father?" you ask.

Lucien looks at you sharply, "It was unspeakable. I wouldn't wish that life on anyone."

"And it shouldn't have been yours either." you reply.

His brows furrow. Right in the middle like they want to meet so badly. You wonder if he's felt like an outsider before. If he's ever felt it amongst his brothers. The black sheep.

"When my mission is over here, do you think you could come back with me to the day court?" you ask softly.

His face goes from confusion to somewhat understanding. But you haven't told him enough for him to completely get what you're saying, what you're asking of him.

"A couple of times Eris tried to make me visit the day court." Lucien admits.

You nod your head at that. Of course. Ever the perfect actor. You knew him for a little slice of time in your life. A period in which you won't ever forget. He was your first kiss. You were young and kids, trying to figure out your own way in life.

Kissing Eris, the treacherous fox of the autumn court, was every bit exciting at your age. You gossiped, and word got around. But he didn't deny it. For all the lies and manipulation he pulled you thought he might say you were delusional, that you had made it all up. But he backed you claim.

Eris knew Lucien wasn't Beron's son. Eris probably protected him as best he could. In his own, Eris way. Whatever that means.

"You can invite him too." you say.

Lucien looks past you. No doubt at the inner circle lingering inside. If you were in his position you wouldn't even go back in there. You'd never talk to any of them again.

"I'll take my leave now, but thank you. For being honest." he says.

You give him a small smile, "To be clear I was to tell you the news in a gentle manner. What just happened was out of my hands."

"I get it. I'll see you around." he says.

You bid him goodbye. Then he's walking past you. You hear the door open and how voices inside seem to call his name. You don't hear him respond to any of them. You hear the front door slam.

With a breath you turn around and head back inside too. When you do everyone is looking right at you. It unnerves you. You hate it.

"I've done your dirty work now. I think I'll call it a night." you speak.

"He didn't deserve to find out like that." Feyre says.

"You're right, he deserved honesty from his friends." you retort.

"You were sent here to tell him the truth. Am I wrong?" Rhysand asks.

You turn to face him clearly. You can't believe he just said that. You cannot believe he formed the words with his mouth to say that to you.

Without saying another word you walk right out of the dinning room. You ignore Nesta and Amren calling out to you. And you ignore the shadow that walks with you right out of the room and into he hallway.

As soon as you get inside of your guest room the shadow disappears.

SUNRISE, THE NEXT DAY

You're skip training and packing for home instead. You wish you could pack faster but that isn’t possible. You don’t want to be here for another second. Not in this court, not among the inner circle.

When you throw in your last few shirts into the luggage a knock raps on the door. You don’t know who it is, but if it is Rhysand or Elaine you won’t open the door.

“Who is it?” You ask.

“It's me, can you open up?”

You go over to the door and open it. Standing there on the threshold is Azriel.

“I’ll be leaving soon.” You say.

His eyes seem to widen at that. You watch as he peers over you and takes in the bareness of the room, and the packed luggage. He straightens himself out.

“Why so soon? It feels like you just got here.” He replies.

Based on his words alone he doesn’t want you to leave. You can feel it too. How it’s only been a month or so but the two of you are comfortable around each other.

You sigh, “The mission is over.”

“And we’re back to this? Four word sentences?” He asks.

“Azriel.”

He looks down both sides of the hallway. His head turning left then right. Then he’s turning back to you. He looks nervous. Antsy. He doesn’t normally look that way. He’s usually so composed.

He takes you by surprise. He side steps into the room and closes the door behind him. At that you know your eyes go wide. He holds up his hands in defense.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry for that but I just—are you mad at me?” He asks.

You scoff, “Yes I am.”

“Okay I knew that, but I was also confused because on that mission you saved my life.”

“Hardly.” You answer simply.

He groans at your one word answer, “You made sure those arrows didn’t plant themselves in my wings. You made sure I was safe.”

“It was nothing.”

“No it was something.”

You’re catching on now to how tense he is. Tense or nervous you can’t tell. His eyes are frantic. His breathing is also uneven. And his shadows are fully out on display now.

You do the one thing you can think of. You reach out for his hand. He doesn’t even seem to notice it. When you make contact he looks you in the eye. “Please calm down.” You whisper.

He bows his head, his hair covering his face now. All of a sudden he sinks to his knees. The action catches you completely off guard.

“I’m sorry.” He says again.

You focus on sending him warmth from your hand. In a second you can see his shoulders begin to shake. From this angle you can’t tell just yet if it’s what you think it is.

So you bring your free hand to the side of his face. You feel it. In the palm of your hand you feel his wet cheek. He’s crying. Azriel the shadow singer is crying, on his knees in front of you.

“I could have died and for the first time in a very long time I felt this deep regret in the bottom of my belly.” He chokes out.

What would he have to regret?

Slowly you drag you hand down his cheek. You place your pointer finger under his chin. Titling his head up, you meet his eyes. From this close you hadn’t realize how many shades of brown they hold.

“Azriel, you’re okay. I promise you you’re okay.” You whisper.

He shuts his eyes, more tears flowing down his face now.

“I don’t think I will be.” He admits.

“Why?” You ask.

He opens his eyes again.

“Because you hate us now, you’ll never come back here.” He answers.

In a sense he was right. Not totally. You didn’t hate the inner circle. You just couldn’t stand what they did last night. How they acted, how none of them would fess up. Even though some of them had known Lucien for a long time.

But you didn’t hate them. You didn’t hate him.

“I don’t hate you.” You reply.

“I could see it on your face last night. And now, you’re leaving so quickly. You want nothing to do with us.” He adds on.

There’s silence between the two of you. The emotions Azriel is feeling right now feel heavy. Way too heavy for someone he’s only spent about two months with.

You had heard many rumors about him. But him being like this, wearing his heart on his sleeve like this? You don’t think you could have ever imagined it.

Remembering that he’s waiting for you to answer, you remember to speak.

“Yes I’m upset and I want to go home. But that doesn’t mean I never want to see you again. Azriel I really enjoyed my time with you.” You speak.

You don’t realize it but your hand is stroking his now.

He gives you a look you can’t figure out, “Why does it feel like that time is over already? Like I’ll never see you again?”

He reaches up and places your hand on his cheek again. You don’t emit the warmth from there but he nuzzles into your hand like you are. His thumb rubs back and forth on the back of your hand there.

“You talk like everything is set in stone. Like there is only one path.” You say.

“I can just, sense it.” He explains barely.

You shake you head, “Azriel I was always going to leave.”

“Not like this. Last night changed everything.” He says, but it comes out more like a whisper.

“Get up.”

He looks at you, a bit of shock. You watch as he follows your command and gets back on his feet. He keeps your hand pressed to his face the whole time. Your other hand falls to your side.

“You can come visit me.” You say.

He’s silent. Silent but he nods his head at your words. You’re not sure if he believes you fully. But it’s enough. He wipes the tears from his face. His wings perk up, off the floor now.

You wrap your arms around his body before you can think against it. Instantly you feel his arms around you. Pulling you closer. He rests his head on top of yours. It feels right. It feels natural. No, it feels like something else too.

It feels the exact same way the sunlight in the day court feels on your skin. Like it is meant to be.

part two here!

#azriel x reader #azriel imagine #azriel fic #azriel one shot #acotar x reader #acotar imagine #acotar fic #acotar one shot

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luvjunie · 5 months

Text

— Unforgettable ( 4 )

part one • part two • part three • part four • part five

pairing: e-1610!miles x fem!reader

contains: angst/conflict (y’all knew it was comin), language, miles being a dunce, gwen and her awkwardness

summary: a bump in with a certain boy at the bodega threatens to ruin your previously perfect afternoon until he offers to fix it. you assumed things would end there, and then you ran into him again. wc: 3,284

a/n: i held onto this for so long my apologies i had to find time to actually sit down and edit it fr fr 😭 i read this a gazillion times to the point i can recite it from memory so if you see any typos or grammar errors no you don’t. recap of part three is in small italics

prev | next

He wanted this. He wanted you.

But any chance for another sensical thought was interrupted when the impossible happened. ‘Impossible’ being the multi-layered hexagonal portal that suddenly opened up on his ceiling, and the blonde-haired, gap-toothed girl he thought he'd never see again, appearing with it. Bright and beaming down at him with a heart-halting grin, Miles felt his stomach drop as soon as she spoke.

"Miles!"

Shit.

. . .

Love tears down your walls and leaves you vulnerable in all aspects. The skin you didn't know you wore as a shield to protect you from the unexpected is shed in one swift layer because you don’t care what the unexpected is anymore. All the space that was left for worrying about what’s to come has been stolen to make room for the one who makes your heart flutter faster than you can blink.

Love is waking up in the morning, and before you’ve even wiped the lingering dream from your eyes, you find yourself rolling over in hopes of discovering a text from your favorite person—a blur of letters you’re barely able to make out, but it causes a smile to stretch across your face nonetheless.

It’s what has your thoughts drifting from your conscious at least five times a day, chin tucked in hand, eyes dreamy with the image of him playing over and over again in your mind, face melted into the stupidest grin you’ve ever been able to manifest. It leaves you yearning for him in ways you never imagined before, wanting to see into the places of his soul he’s hidden from the world and even the ones he loves most.

So if that’s love, what’s this feeling that you have now?

What follows closely behind love is the ugly shadow that trails on its heels like a sinking suspicion you can’t shake; the one that’s never acknowledged because things are just too good for you to be worried about all the cons that come with the pros. That biting feeling that often goes undetected until it’s discovered at the most inconvenient of times.

That feeling, the one you couldn’t put a name to before?

Foolish is how you felt right about now.

As you stood in the middle of a lively party for Miles’ father, who was soon to be police captain. It was bustling with excitement, people laughing and chopping it up in every corner, like you should’ve been right about now.

You’d been greeted by almost all of them upon arrival and even managed to run into Miles’ parents, but for some reason, you still had yet to say hello to the one who actually invited you. And you’d been made aware of the reason why when you’d looked up to find him laughing with a girl you’d never seen before, and she definitely wasn’t a cousin. You knew that because you’d met all of them by now in the time you’d spent searching for him.

Miles’ hands were animatedly flying through the air as he explained something to the girl that you couldn’t make out from this far away, and his eyes were lit up in a way you’d never seen them before. Slowly but surely, even though your mind tried to stop the thought from breaking through, you started to wonder if last night meant as much as you thought it did.

The mini-pep talk you’d given yourself to instill courage was immediately deemed insignificant the moment your feet pushed you to start on your way over to them, but still, you tried to ignore the deepening pit in your stomach. You usually prided yourself on being someone who never jumped to conclusions without having an inkling to stand on, but Miles was great at making things you never even knew about yourself come to the surface. Was this one of them?

Your stomach was bubbling with nerves; a sensation of anxiety washing over you. She was the complete opposite of your image, and it made you feel self-conscious about everything, as if you hadn't fallen in love with your reflection in the mirror just before you'd left home. You began to think about how fuzzy your braids were, how you should’ve taken them down last week and redid them like you’d planned instead of ditching that very plan to hang out with Miles instead.

Was your outfit appropriate enough for a family gathering? Maybe you should’ve worn something simpler. Did he like that little snort you always did when you laughed, or did he find it annoying like the last guy did? Maybe you should fix that.

All these questions did a terrible job of hiding what you were truly worried about.

Miles was so involved in his conversation that he didn’t take notice of you walking over. It must’ve slipped his mind that he told you to meet him here and that he would introduce you to his family. Instead, you were left to fend for yourself until his parents caught sight of you being handed a baby even they didn’t know the name of.

And by the stupidly shocked look he sported as you popped up in front of the both of them, it seemed as if he’d forgotten that he invited you in the first place.

As a reflex, you dipped your hands into the pockets of his coat and forged the nicest smile you could muster as your eyes wandered over to the girl.

“Hey Miles, who's this?”

“Oh! Uh, Y/n, this is Gwen-“ the girl suddenly shot him a look you couldn’t decipher, eyes widened in warning, and Miles instantly froze.

The hell was that?

“Gw-Gwaaanda...” he continued shakily after correcting himself, brows raised toward her in silent question. He then motioned back and forth between the two of you. “Gwanda, this is Y/n. My, uh… My…” Miles trailed off, your lips parted in anticipation, and it looked as if he’d suddenly lost his train of thought.

"Your?" You cocked your head at him the slightest, expectant eyes urging him to continue.

“My friend.”

Gwen stared at him incredulously. His oversized jacket stuck out like a sore thumb on you, but a physical hint wasn’t needed. She was able to guess who you were to him the moment you stepped out onto the roof. Or who you were supposed to be.

“Your friend?” Your brows furrowed when you repeated what he’d said in disbelief. You couldn't even tell if the look he’d given you was one of pity, or remorse.

“Wow,” you breathed a lifeless laugh, lashes fluttering to keep the tears at bay with a small nod. You’d never felt so embarrassed. Your throat had that burning sensation that was all too familiar—the one that feels as if your chest is caving in on itself with the weight of disappointment. Heartbreak, you think, is what they call it. You’ve never experienced it before, but you assumed this is what it must feel like.

Gwen shifted from one foot to the other, her hand awkwardly clasped onto her opposing arm while her wide blue eyes darted between the two of you. The shift in energy was palpable, like there was a visible force pushing the both of you apart.

It was her, she realized.

She’s the force.

She suddenly cleared her throat.

“Is anyone else like, really cold right now?” Gwen's hand nervously gestured towards the air with a stale chuckle. “Cause, boy, it is definitely chilly today!”

“Here,” Your throat pushed down the godforsaken lump that was forming as you forcefully tugged Miles’ coat off your body as if it burned your skin.

“Have Miles’ jacket. I don’t need it anymore, anyway.” Thrusting the bundled green puffer into her loose hold, you ignored the graze of disbelieving eyes burning into the side of your head and adjusted your shirt as if you could somehow make it conduct more warmth. Fuck, it was chilly today.

Gwen, Gwanda, or whatever the hell her name just gaped at you.

“I—“

Miles extended a hand to you in a meaningless attempt. “Y/n stop, it’s yours-“

“It’s not. Never was.”

You weren’t talking about the jacket.

You were gone faster than you came—faster than you’d even fallen for him, which was surprising, to say the least. Ducking your body under the railing and jumping down onto the deck, you pointedly ignored the stairs descending from it. If there had been a faster route than the one you took to haul ass out of there, you would’ve snatched it in seconds.

In just a minute, everything had crumbled right in front of him, and Miles stood there and let it happen.

Gwen recognized the look in your eyes; it’d been the same one Miles had given her last year when he confessed to her and she told him they couldn’t be together. Not because she didn’t want to, but because the circumstances just wouldn’t allow it.

As if things weren’t bad enough already, Gwen spoke cautiously, lips rolled inwards and Miles’ jacket loosely clutched in her hands.

“I don’t know if it’s just me, but I think she was expecting you to put another word in front of 'friend'."

“Shit.”

His feet were moving before he even realized he was chasing after you. He narrowly dodged the sea of bodies blocking him from getting to you, his eyes scanning the roof in hopes of spotting the top of your head.

“Miles, wait!” His aunt called out to him. “Your mom is about to cut the cake! Where are you going?”

Miles hastily shouted a response to her with a hand cupped around his mouth, his feet moving backwards to keep up with his pace.

“Back in a sec!”

You pushed through the crowd with your head ducked, sincere apologies muffled to those you bumped into, and a few unwelcome tears rolling over the apple of your cheek as you did so.

“Sweetie, wait! You don’t want cake?”

Without making eye contact, you gave a rushed wave goodbye and a thank you to Rio and Jeff, whisking past the pair. That probably didn’t help your case, but what just happened between you and her son could probably be inferred, because you weren’t wearing his jacket like you were just a moment ago, and Miles’ previously giddy conversation looked as if it’d come to a screeching halt as she noticed that the painfully awkward girl she’d met earlier was standing by herself now.

Rio’s shoulders dropped with a knowing sigh as she watched you retreat.

“Ay, I told you that Gwanda girl was bad news, Jeff!” She grumbled with pursed lips, expression painted with disappointment to match her folded arms.

Your temporary wallowing had turned to rage in mere moments, made known in the way your hands shoved the door to the stairwell open with way more force than needed.

“Wait!” He slid his way through the doorway before it could close, managing to step in front of you before you could reach the stairs.

“Was yesterday and everything before then just a joke to you?” You stared daggers into his eyes after you’d whipped around, your gaze flitting between the both of them to find an answer faster than he could verbally give. “Because apparently, when you’re around whoever that is you forget about everything else.”

“What—No! Of course not." Miles quickly shook his head. Somehow, trouble always seemed to find him when Gwen was around. “She’s just a friend. I just, I haven’t seen her in a while—“

“Isn’t that what you called me back there? A friend?” You scoffed, arms crossing as if they could possibly shield your heart from taking any more damage. You knew you weren't giving him much of a chance to give an explanation, but right about now you felt as if he didn't deserve the chance. “Do you make out with all your friends on the roof or was I some sort of exception?”

“Y/n,” His shoulders dropped at that, and you almost found yourself feeling bad for saying such a thing. “I don’t know why I said that. I just—I froze up, and I’m sorry. But you’re more than that to me, I swear.”

“It sure doesn’t seem like it.” The saliva that was starting to pool in your mouth was aggravating you, but somehow at the same time your throat was incredibly dry. So dry that it had you struggling to make your voice into something more than whisper when he took a step forward, and when you took one back.

“Don’t.“ you said, shaking your head, and Miles grimaced slightly at the subtle crack in your voice. “Do you know how long I waited for you? How stupid I looked wandering around until I found you when I don’t know anyone but your parents? You invited me!”

You couldn’t wrap your head around it. Just last night, he’d made you feel as if you were the only girl in the entire world, but now it seemed like the world had gotten a whole lot bigger.

Whether you wanted to know the answer or not, you had to ask. So with a shaky inhale, you readied yourself for the worst, and so did he.

“Is she somebody to you?”

You watched as he swallowed, hard. Adam’s apple bobbing like his mind was for the truth. Gwen was just a friend. Now, at least. Telling you what you clearly already knew wouldn’t make you feel any better, but lying about it would only make things worse.

Miles bit at his cheek when his gaze drifted off to the side. You felt your heart sink at what came next.

“It… It was a long time ago. But I don’t feel that way anymore.”

Your eyes began to dampen again as they held contact with his for a pain-stricken moment, but a dejected once-over from head to toe and a repulsed frown was all you could spare him.

It felt as if the silence between you was much longer than a few seconds. With his chest rising and falling, Miles' throat was filled with words he knew you wouldn't believe. After what just happened, how would you? There was nothing he could say to rectify how badly he’d just embarrassed you and he knew that. And by the look of betrayal on your face and how your shoulder bumped his arm when you shoved past him, it seemed you wouldn’t even give him the chance.

Miles watched you descend down the stairs, his jaw clenched and his heart cramping with it.

What did he just do?

—

Maybe telling his parents what happened hadn’t been the best idea after all. But after calling you three times and leaving a voice message after each dreaded beep, just to find out at his third attempt that you’d disabled your voicemail box, he truly didn’t know what else to do.

And honestly, it’s not like he really had a choice when it came to telling them. After a couple awkward minutes of standing with a jacket that so obviously did not belong to her, Gwen cautiously returned it to his parents and hurriedly made her exit, which only left them with more questions than they had before.

They realized it was serious when Miles never came back in for a slice of cake.

Tres Leches! Miles never missed out on tres leches.

Rio was more than concerned when she knocked on his door and carefully cracked it open after no response to find her son face down in his pillow, curtains closed and his room in disarray.

She took a seat next to his curled-up form, face tinged with worry. “What happened, papa? Why’d she leave?”

Jeff settled for standing near the foot of his bed. “Yeah, son. She looked a little upset.”

Miles heaved out a sigh as he pulled his body into a seated position, hands running over his face as if they’d erase the memory from his mind. “I kinda… Like—When it came to introducing her to Gwanda, I… hesitated? I guess?” Miles mumbled, his voice raising a slight octave with the last word, as if he were just as confused as they were. Somehow, saying what happened out loud made him realize just how badly he’d messed up.

“Wooo, that’s bad.” Jeff sucked a breath in through his teeth and chuckled quietly, rocking from heel to toe at his son’s confession.

Rio rolled her eyes at her husband who wasn’t much of any help at all when it came to things like this. She lifted her chin attentively at Miles to let him know that she was genuinely listening.

“Well, you introduced her eventually…Right?“

“Yeah,” Miles confirmed, only to wince afterwards. “…As a friend.”

Rio’s mouth dropped. “Miles!”

“I know! I just— I froze! I don’t know why.” His head dropped into his hands in shame, elbows perched on bent knees.

“Alright, son. You gotta help me out here.” Jeff sighed. “So you’re telling me that the young lady who’s in our house almost every week, who we’ve been referring to as your girlfriend when she knocks on the door, isn’t your girlfriend?”

“I— She is, or… she was— isn’t? Anymore?” Something like an agitated groan mixed with a huff left Miles’ lips as he tried speaking again.

“She was going to be. I was gonna ask her up there which is why I invited her, but then Gwen just— showed up out of nowhere last night, and then I kinda sorta invited her too—“

“Last night? You had a girl in here?” Rio arched a brow.

“Who’s Gwen?” Jeff voiced his confusion quietly, eyes glancing to the side.

“Fuck, not Gwen, I meant Gwanda—“

Rio raised not one, but two disbelieving brows as Miles frantically shook his head.

“Damnit, I didn’t mean to say fuck—“ His eyes snapped up to see his parents’ faces painted with pure and utter shock at his choice of words. Again.

“Shit, wait! I—Oh God.” Miles let his head fall back into his hands as he groaned, tufts of hair clenched between his fingers. “Just help me, please.” He whined.

“Yup, that’s all you, honey.” Jeff nodded at Rio and patted his thighs with his hands that were starting to grow clammy, as if he’d actually done something useful before he discreetly slipped out the door.

Rio couldn’t stand to see her son so distraught, so she made the difficult decision to hear him out instead of addressing the string of curses he’d sent their way, or whatever happened ‘last night’.

“Respira, mijo,” She barely had to pull him into her, his body fell into her embrace the moment her hand graced his shoulder. “I thought you really liked this girl... I even invited her for Thanksgiving!” Rio gently rubbed up and down his arm, comforting him in the way she knew how.

“I do!” he insisted. “A lot… I’m just an idiot who messed things up, and now she probably hates me.”

She pulled him away by his shoulders, looking into his eyes intently to make sure she got her point across.

“Listen to me. You are not an idiot, papa. A little slow to understand sometimes, yes—“ Miles rolled his head to the side in annoyance, but she gently brought his face back to her with a hand on his cheek.

“But—you always get there because you’re smart. And I know that, because your father and I raised you to be.” Miles almost managed a smile when Rio softly pinched his cheek. “That also means you’re smart enough to know that you’ve hurt someone you care about.”

“But… What if I can’t fix it?” Miles' voice was heavy with uncertainty. “Then what do I do?”

“Well, that’s life, papa. Not everything is something you can fix, but you won’t know unless you try.” Her hands fixed the crooked hemline of the cotton thermal beneath his jersey, gently smoothing out the wrinkles with flattened fingers.

“It’s a leap of faith, Miles. That’s all.”

. . .

a/n: tres leches was a total self insert that shit is fire

taglist: @burymeinside @secret-ssociety @whatamidoing89 @urmotherswhor3 @valovesyou @inlovewithfictionalppl @edgyficuselastica @motherwanda @mybfmiles @axeoverblade @miumiulicious @sukisprettyface @gwennesy @simpnotapimp @kanvis @cleo-dearts @retirement-home @lunaramune @silas-222 @citrusequalsfrogs @itsberrydreemurstuff @spritecranverry @mewhenimanangel @wisteriaflowersss @chadychadyy2k @sakura-onesan @coffeeandtealol @junipurr101 @bakugouswaif @luvdenisposts @aleluvsuu @wonylxv @attractivepie @cry1ngmyey3sout @silas-222 @idkkk343

masterlist

#junie’s works ᥫ᭡#across the spiderverse #miles morales x reader #across the spiderverse fanfiction #miles morales fanfiction #miles morales x black reader #miles morales x fem!reader #earth 1610 miles x you #earth 1610 miles x reader #earth 1610 miles morales x reader #miles morales x you #miles morales fic #1610 miles x reader

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cryptidcasanova · 2 years

Text

Move Me, Baby

Eddie Munson x Reader

Summary: Cheer tryouts are right around the corner. A wrench in his plans makes Eddie see you in a new light. He just hopes others haven’t noticed too.

Words: 6.7k

Warnings: Jealous!Eddie, Eddie is a horn-dog, Smut, Recreational Drugs.

Eddie didn't like cheerleaders.

They were nice to look at, sure. Who didn't like to look at long legs and tight skirts? And their jumps and twirls were fine, but there was no substance.

The girls were cut-out cookies of their mother's dreams. They represented Barbies and white picket fences.

It was a far stretch from his reality.

So, no, Eddie didn't like cheerleaders.

At least, not until Chrissy convinced you to try out for the team.

The Tiger Cheer Squad.

It's not like he really expected you to make it. You were a senior, so why were you trying out now? You never showed any interest in it before.

When you mentioned the tryout dates at lunch one day, they didn't think anything of it.

Eddie was too busy focusing on the campaign. In hindsight, he should have been paying more attention.

And then, on one remarkably average Friday night, you stormed into the Hellfire Club classroom with a shit-eating grin.

You were wearing a Hawkins cheer uniform.

The green skirt swayed against the top of your thighs, detailed in orange and white frills. It was distracting.

You were sporting the school colors, and there was even an oversized cardigan draped over your shoulders.

"Look out, boys," You smirked. "There's a new sheriff in town."

They finally understood why you needed a Hellfire replacement for the night.

You could hear the wires in their head sizzling, and Gareth's mouth was wide open like a fish out of water. Jeff wasn't much better. You laughed at their antics.

But you never wore shorts around them, let alone something girly. A skirt was entirely out of the question. And yet, there you were, a different version of the girl they all knew.

Somehow, you transformed from one of the freaks into a forbidden fruit. You were stunning.

And Eddie. Oh, Eddie couldn't get the image of you in that skirt out of his head.

It was engraved in his mind, and then something unnatural happened. Eddie Munson was stunned into silence. It was good that he was sitting down because his knees were weak.

Fuck.

There were no sharp remarks or familiar terms of endearment from the ruthless DM. No taunting or making jabs about turning to the dark side.

His thoughts had turned to mush, and he didn't like it. Not one bit.

You heard giggling at the door and turned your head with a gasp. You forgot you left Chrissy there.

"I've got to go tell Robin! And Nancy! Bye guys," And then you were gone, just as quickly as you appeared.

Eddie was convinced you were a figment of his imagination.

"Was that –"

"Is she –"

Eddie leaned back in his chair, realization hitting him like a ton of bricks.

He was fucked.

He thought he had more time. Eddie built a wall around you and didn't even realize it.

You were friends. You had classes with him, sat with them for almost every lunch, and were even a member of Hellfire. A daunting thought plagued him.

Maybe there was a reason why he overlooked you as anything other than a friend of the freaks - the other option was far scarier.

And he'd never live it down if he admitted that he liked you. Not now. Not now that you were a cheerleader.

The reactions around the table were all the same. They'd never admit it, but they were all looking at you with new eyes.

And if they were looking, the whole goddamned school would be looking.

"Does this mean we have to go to basketball games now?" Gareth's asked at last. Lucas scoffed.

"You guys said you'd never go to my games."

As Eddie stood up, he brushed the freshman's shoulder. "Shut it, Sinclair."

But his threat lacked bite. Eddie needed to get a hold of himself.

"Careful, Eddie," Dustin teased, noticing their DM's uncanny silence. "You're drooling."

Eddie's icy glare was enough to silence the group. They all knew how he felt about you, even if he couldn't admit it.

But even as the night crawled on and he made it home, Eddie couldn't get a grip.

You were there, intruding on his thoughts. He was used to teasing you, to getting you flustered. But now the roles were reversed, and you didn't even know what you were doing to him.

Those soft, vulnerable thighs plagued his thoughts all night long.

He tossed in his bed.

What if, just what if he could do something about it?

What if you needed help after a brutal practice? What if you stepped wrong and pulled a muscle?

He could soothe that ache. He could rub out the taut muscles; he could help you relax. His hands were strong and capable, and he could massage up the curve of your knee and over your thighs.

He could pull them up, high, over his shoulders. That would give you a nice stretch.

He groaned into his pillow. It was embarrassing how quickly he had his pants pulled down.

And it didn't stop.

Days passed, and it was almost more tormenting to see you in your regular clothes, knowing what he had seen.

He was fixated, acting like a total creep. But you didn't notice or seem to treat him any differently.

Eddie started staying late on other weeknights, and you waved him down if you noticed his van after practices.

He knew it was selfish.

He'd focus on how you walked in those white cheer shoes and how you were out of breath and flushed after practice.

Sometimes he'd offer to drive you home. Other nights you helped him with history homework when he groaned about his grade.

But really, he was looking for an excuse to see you in your uniform. It was starting to get worse.

Eddie's other friends kept a wide berth until he cut out the chicken shit and talked to you about it, but it never happened. He was as annoying and charming as ever, but he never took the next step.

One night, you two went to Benny’s after practice to work on new character ideas for the campaign.

You were drawing character designs, and he was working on backstories, but Benny’s was so damn cold. Their furnace was busted, and they were waiting for parts to fix it.

You didn’t have your cardigan. Eddie watched on as you braved the cool air. But you couldn’t hide your goosebumps with your arms sprawled across the table. You were in the zone, drawing a distorted goblin king, when you felt a jacket being placed over your shoulders.

You jumped up. It took a moment, but you relaxed when you realized it was just Eddie. You didn’t even hear him get up.

“It’s just me, Princess.” He teased, smoothing his jean jacket down the top of your spine.

You were used to the nicknames, but you weren't used to the low timber in his voice or Eddie's eyes lingering. As he sat back down, there was the quip of a smirk on his lips.

He’d never given you his jacket before.

Usually, if anyone complained, usually about how cold the Hellfire room was, he’d snap at them to ‘toughen up, buttercup.’

It smelled like him, like wood smoke and stolen aftershave from his uncle. Not to mention, it was warm. You pulled your arms through the sleeves, pulling the jacket tight before looking back at him.

"Thanks, Eds," You grinned.

But his actions weren't entirely chivalrous.

You two were sitting in a booth. You were facing the wall, but Eddie had a view of everything. You weren't the only Hawkins High kids hanging out at Benny's.

He spotted a couple of band kids in the corner and basketball players across the restaurant. Eddie noticed that you were unaware of their stares lingering on your legs, but he saw everything.

Giving you his jacket was the least he could do.

It kept you warm, and it let the rest of the vultures know that he was staking his claim. And it looked good on you too.

“You know, sometimes I feel bad about trying out for the cheer squad,” You admitted in between sips of stale soda. “I missed this: Making characters, building up heroes.”

You regretted the time you missed with Hellfire.

“You mean it?” Eddie asked, looking up from his character sheet. “You seem to like it.”

“The girls are nice, but,” You paused, looking out the window. “It’s not the same.”

The girls were nice, at least, most of the time.

You weren’t clumsy, but they weren't kind whenever you stepped on their shoes, or your hands were in the wrong place. There wasn’t a lot of forgiveness. Chrissy was the exception, but she wasn’t a replacement for Hellfire.

She wasn’t a replacement for Eddie. You thought about it with a sheepish grin.

“Well, it sounds like you need a cheerleader.”

You looked up, and Eddie’s hands were folded in front of him.

“And while I am severely underqualified,” His voice was low, leaning in so that no one else could overhear, “I will do my best.”

The smile on your face was rare.

He had seen it once, maybe twice, when you rolled a natural twenty on game nights. It was like sunshine. You were like sunshine.

Eddie offered you his hand at the end of the night, pulling you up from the booth with a squeal. That would surely get the attention of everyone else in the diner. He grinned. His heart swelled with an affection he couldn't articulate.

He opened the car door for you when you got home, bowing like a court jester. Even when you offered his jacket back at the end of the night, he shook his head.

"I think it's a good look. Denim and polyester, I mean." Eddie teased, and you bumped his shoulder.

He didn't plan for you to get so close that his hand grazed the side of your leg. But you were soft, so soft. He had to stop himself from reaching out, from holding you right there. His rings were cold, and if you didn't have goosebumps before, he could feel them now.

But you didn't mention it as you stepped back.

"Goodnight, Eddie the Brave." You grinned, bowing at him valiantly. You kept the jacket, and he didn't walk back to his side of the car until you made it up to the doorstep.

"Goodnight, princess."

"So, are you gonna tell her?" Dustin dropped his library books down with a thud, making Eddie jump up from the lunch table.

"Jesus H Christ," Eddie scowled, putting a hand on his chest. "Henderson, what the hell are you going on about?"

Eddie wasn’t nearly as put together as usual. His curls were frizzy, and his eyes were tired. Dustin was convinced his shirt was inside out, but he didn’t say anything. Eddie looked like shit.

He lost track of time that morning.

His wet dream bled into his first-period class, but he couldn’t find it in him to get up. Not when his dreams were tormented by you. God, the things he saw, the sounds you made.

He had it bad. Even then, with his leg shaking under the lunchroom table, he had to distract himself from thinking of you.

“Eddie, snap out of it,” Dustin called out with the snap of his fingers. Big brown eyes stared up at him, but he was far away. “Oh, shit, man. You’ve got it bad.”

“I preferred it when you were revved about new Judas Priest records,” Gareth added, sitting down next to Eddie.

“Listen, you little weasels,” Eddie warned, “I don’t know what the hell you’re going on about.”

His denial made the rest of the table groan.

He was busy pointing his finger around the table, only to be interrupted by the intercom. They were calling all of the cheerleaders to the gym after lunch.

The first basketball game of the season was on tomorrow, and the pep rally was first thing in the morning.

“If you don’t tell her, she’ll move on. You’re squandering it,” Dustin emphasized. “Squandering it!”

“Squandering what?” You asked, walking up and sitting down on the other side of the table.

“He’s –” Gareth choked on his drink, making Dustin roll his eyes.

“Dusty here thinks that I,” Eddie put his hands on his chest innocently, “am acting like a fool.”

The dramatics made your eyebrows raise before looking around the table.

“What else is new?”

Your joke was so dry that it took a moment for the guys to catch on.

It was with an overextended laugh that Dustin let out a breath of relief. Eddie hit him on the shoulder to get him to quiet down.

Lunch was quiet, painfully quiet, and as you pushed your lunchroom spaghetti around the plate, you looked over at the group of cheerleaders. Chrissy caught your eye, offering a small wave. You couldn’t help but smile back.

“So,” You started gently, “I’m excited about the game.”

You watched as the guys poked their heads up from their plates. Eddie was looking intently at his lunchbox.

“No pressure, but do you guys, maybe, want to come?” Your voice was meek. You knew how they felt about the kinds of kids that went to the school games. But you thought it couldn’t hurt to ask. “And we could pick up a pizza after and go throw rocks at –“

“Of course we’ll be there.” Eddie finally looked up from his lunchbox.

He let loose a tight-lipped smile, but it didn’t make it up to those big brown eyes.

“It’s a big day. It’s a big day for you and Sinclair, right?” Eddie added.

“R-Right,” Lucas agreed, looking from Eddie to you with a nod.

You couldn’t help but give the group an incredulous grin. You knew they hated it. You knew it, and they were supporting you anyway.

“But there better be pizza, sweetheart,” Eddie added.

“Oh, of course. Naturally.” You said, shaking your head at the contingency.

Dustin thought he was going to be sick. It was painfully obvious that you two were ogling over each other. He shared a similar expression with Mike and Lucas.

It was gross.

They needed to find a solution, and fast.

After lunch, you changed and headed to pep rally practice, meaning that Eddie was left to fend for himself in Mrs. Click’s class.

The lesson was incredibly dull, and Eddie was twirling a pencil in his hand, letting his mind wander.

He knew you were about a hundred feet away in the gym, changing into your cheer uniform. He was so close, and yet, so far.

Maybe he could take the long way around if he asked to go to the bathroom. He could walk past the gym and catch a glance –

“Mr. Munson,” Mrs. Click chided, snapping him out of his daze. “Are you even listening?”

The old woman’s expression was grim, and the kids around his chair were snickering.

“Oh, absolutely,” He assured. “I was listening to your sweet, sweet recounts of the square root or the hypothesis of the triangle.”

“Hypotenuse.”

“Gesundheit.” He replied. “Can I go to the bathroom?”

With a reluctant nod, she gave Eddie the hall pass.

And he was off, creeping towards the gym with quiet steps. But what Eddie didn’t expect was that he wasn’t the only one with the same idea.

Jason Carver and one of his friends were leaning against the door, peeking into the gym window. Eddie thought of making a detour but stopped when he heard them say your name.

“She’s not bad,”

“She’s not Chrissy,” Jason corrected, tilting his head. “But you’re right,” He paused. “She’s flexible. Nice ass.”

The other basketball player agreed.

For a moment, Eddie couldn’t think straight.

They never looked twice at you, but now, they were hound dogs. Not that he was any better, but that didn’t help the jealousy riddling his veins.

“But she is still hanging out with that freak. Not the kind of girl to bring home to your parents,” Jason said.

Eddie rolled his eyes.

“That’s the perfect kind of girl,” His friend argued. “You don’t have to take her home to your parents.”

The basketball players laughed, and Eddie wanted to call out and tell them to fuck off.

“Besides,” The basketball player added, “I talked to her before she ran into the gym. She said she was gonna come to your party this weekend with Chrissy. And between you and me,” He whispered to Jason. “She was laying it on thick. I don’t think she’ll be at the freak table much longer.”

Eddie frowned, backing up until he was out of sight.

He wasn’t good at expressing his emotions, but his jealousy dissolved into fear. As hard as he tried to fight it, he had tunnel vision.

Maybe Henderson was right. Maybe you were done waiting for him.

You didn’t see Eddie after school.

You didn’t have practice and ended up walking home with the Sinclair kids.

Erica was excited to be a sub for Mike at Hellfire Club. You were the one who gave her an honorary Hellfire shirt the week before, and she had been stuck at your side when she made it to game nights.

Lucas was excited about the basketball game. You nodded in mutual excitement, stepping into the grass when the sidewalk was too narrow.

“Alex Johnson tried to talk to me today,” you told him, and Lucas made a face. It was one that clearly told you how he felt about his teammate.

“He’s a meathead.”

You laughed. “Oh, absolutely.” You agreed. “There’s not a lot going on upstairs.”

“I’d stay away from him,” Lucas added.

“I don’t think that’ll be a problem. But he cornered me, Chrissy, and a few other girls on the cheer squad. He wanted to make sure we will go to Jason Carver’s party this weekend.” You explained, rolling your eyes.

“He’s deluded,” Erica said. Her face was unimpressed.

“And desperate.” You added, making the younger girl grin. “Besides, Hellfire is that night. No way I’m missing that.”

“So you lied to the biggest meathead in Hawkins.” Lucas realized, shaking his head. You shrugged innocently.

“Oops.”

The pep rally was too early, but you were up before your alarm clock. Call it nerves. You were nervous but excited. It was a big day for you.

The parking lot was crowded, and even though you waited for the familiar van in the parking lot, eventually you had to go in and get ready.

You spotted Dustin and Mike sitting next to Max and Gareth. It was like the gang was all there – begrudgingly – but they were there. Well, all except for one person.

Eddie wasn’t there.

You kept turning around, hoping to catch him sneaking in. Even in-between your cheer sets, you stole glances at your friends. But he never showed.

You even waved at Lucas as he came out and stood with the basketball team.

After the grand victory speeches and the marching band playing, you watched as people filtered out of the gym.

You weren’t going to take it personally; Eddie was never a morning person.

You followed the girls back into the locker room. Chrissy was putting on Jason’s school jacket, and you watched as the other girls put their cardigans on top of their uniforms. You never wore your uniform outside of practice before. And you were going to make a splash of it.

The day crawled on until lunch rolled around, and the Hellfire Club table was still missing the most dignified member of their club. Their infamous DM wasn’t there.

Jeff, Gareth, and Tony were quiet. Even Mike and Dustin were confused. It was a big day. Where was Eddie?

It wasn’t until Dustin was nudged on the shoulder that he looked away from the table.

You were walking towards them, all dolled up in your cheer uniform.

Green scrunchie, white socks, flowing skirt. It looked perfect. If anything looked out of place, it was the stained denim jacket over your shoulders.

“What the hell are you wearing?” Mike asked before he could stop himself.

But everyone was thinking about it.

You were a cheerleader wearing Eddie the freak Munson’s jacket. Publicly. In front of the entire student population.

And you were pretty damn proud of it, too, aside from the small fact that you couldn’t find the one person you wanted to show it off to.

“I was gonna surprise him, but,” You faded off, looking at the rest of the table. “Oh, it doesn’t matter. Have you guys seen Eddie?”

Everyone shook their heads. You heard a couple of the basketball players scoff behind you as they walked over to their table.

“Eddie gave you his jacket?” Gareth asked, genuinely confused.

Gareth and Eddie went way back, and there’s no way in hell that Eddie would have done that. He loved that jacket.

“He let me borrow it.”

“So he talked to you then?” Dustin was confused but let out a sigh of relief. “Because it’s about damn time. I knew he had it in him-ouch!” He glared at Jeff, who definitely kicked him under the table.

You were quiet for a moment, looking between them.

By the looks on their faces, Dustin definitely overstepped. The guys looked mortified. But the thing about Henderson was that he was smarter than the rest of them put together.

And there was only one person you wanted to talk to.

“Dustin,” You turned towards the freshman that was reluctant to meet your stare. “I need your bike.”

You couldn’t have known that Eddie spent the night hotboxing in his van to try and numb all of the feelings coming at him.

He felt sorry for himself and angry at the vultures that made up the basketball team. He was mad at himself for being a coward and not owning up to his fucked up affection for you.

And then, on top of everything else, he was so horny. He couldn’t get you out of his head, and the only way he could bear it was to imagine that he had done everything right.

He should have asked you out before you decided to try out for the cheer team. He would have showered you in kisses. He would have bought you all the prettiest skirts, and then he could show you off in front of the basketball team.

He would have ripped them off of you. Eddie would make you feel so good; he was convinced of it. He would have ravished you, licking, biting, and loving on those thighs that tormented him. He would have treasured you and made you scream his name for all Hawkins to hear.

So when he heard a banging on the front door, Eddie jumped up.

He was disoriented.

Wayne wouldn’t have done that. He poked his head up to the window and cursed, seeing you on the front porch. He looked over to the clock.

Shit. It was the middle of the day. He groaned, throwing his head back.

He hurried to stand, throwing on a pair of jeans and tripping on his way to the door. His jean jacket was the only shirt close by, but he rolled it over his shoulders before reaching for the lock.

The sunlight was too bright when he opened the door, so he had to take a step back before looking at you.

He called your name gently.

“What are you doing here?”

Eddie tried to be calm, but his heart was still frantic.

“I could ask you the same,” You were equally out of breath.

Only then did he see Dustin’s bike thrown to the ground outside. He cursed under his breath. You rode a bike all the way from school to his house. It was almost five miles of riding. And in a skirt, nonetheless.

“You gonna let me in, Munson?” You pulled his attention back to you, and it took a moment for his brain to catch up.

He jumped into action, stepping aside. You were careful walking in, looking around with a frown.

“You okay?” You asked.

Eddie’s hair was messy, his bangs were out of place, and his eyes were bloodshot. He looked tired, troubled even.

He was breathing heavily, and as you looked down, you caught sight of the jean vest…and nothing else. His guitar pick necklace was in place, but your eyes went lower to the soft chest hair and his belly button, leading to a patch of hair that disappeared at the tops of his jeans.

“Is this a bad time?” You joked when he didn’t say anything.

But Eddie couldn’t believe you were there, in his house, in the middle of the day.

He was thrown off guard, tumbling to say the right thing. Fuck.

“Eddie, talk to me,” You urged. “What’s the matter?”

He mustered up a sobering breath before running a hand over his face.

“I’m preparing for the end,” He admitted. “You’re going to leave us for the jocks and the cheerleaders.” His words were low, his voice deep and steady.

He was biting back a new wave of unrequited emotions, feeling ridiculous for saying it out loud.

“You’re going to leave us. You’re gonna leave me.”

He took a step back towards the safety of his room.

“You’re going to leave because I’m no hero. I’ve been nothing but a coward.”

And in an instant, all of the pieces came together. Eddie was hiding. He wasn’t hiding from you but from himself.

You took a half step closer.

“Eddie-”

“You don’t want a coward, sweetheart.” He cut you off; those cynical eyes were looking at you in a warning. “You don’t want someone who can’t get the guts to ask you to dinner or take you on nice dates. You don’t want to be with a creep that can’t keep his mind out of the gutter for two seconds when you’re around.

“Especially not like this. You can’t just strut in here wearing that the way you do. Christ, what were you thinking?” He cursed lightly, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Your ass must have been on display for the entire town riding over here.”

You paused, letting his words settle between you.

You looked at him again with fresh eyes. Eddie was flushed, his hair plastered to his forehead. His mouth was parted, and those dark eyes were blown wide with lust. Your own eyes must have widened in realization.

Oh, Eddie.

“Why are you wearing that?” He asked suddenly.

He was thrown off by seeing you at his house that he didn’t even register that you were wearing his jacket over your cheer uniform.

You looked down for a moment, resting a hand across your forehead with a sheepish grin.

“I thought,” You laughed anxiously, looking away from him. “Most girls wear their boyfriend’s lettermen jackets on game days…and I wore your jacket. All day.”

He listened, but you could tell the words weren’t fully registering. He took a couple of weak steps towards you.

“At school?” He asked, more confused than ever. “On purpose?”

You rolled your eyes.

“On purpose.”

“Don’t torment me, princess.” His voice wavered. “Why did you do that?”

You couldn’t take it anymore, dancing around him.

“Well, I thought we kind of were something.” You explained, stepping up to him. “I thought you’d like it.”

His stare was heavy, holding you to the spot.

You could see him swallow, his Adam’s apple bobbing before he licked his lips. Being so close to him never felt so charged.

Eddie didn’t say anything; he couldn’t. Not with this new information. It was too much to be under his wilting stare.

“Do you want your jacket back?”

“No.”

His reply was instant. His hands moved, bravely now, to your hips. But his eyes were locked on your own, dipping once down to your lips before back up.

“Eddie –”

“You gotta tell me to stop, sweetheart.” His eyes were half-lidded, watching you with a dark gaze. “I can’t take it, watching you walk around like that. Tell me to stop, or I’ll-”

You stopped him with a kiss. And it was long overdue.

Slow and poisonous, you pulled yourself into his hold as you let your eyes close.

It was tender, feeling the way his lips parted with yours. He was, wow. He was captivating.

Eddie tasted like toothpaste and lingering notes of weed, but you didn’t mind. He was eager but bewitched, watching your expression for a moment. But it wasn’t long until his eyes were closed, letting it consume him wholly.

You broke apart but went back for another, and then another until your hands were tangled in his hair. You weren’t about to let him go.

And Eddie’s hands tugged you closer until your hips were flush against his own. In a wild moment of courage, he grabbed your ass with both hands. Your breath hitched, and he smirked against your lips.

It was his turn to torment you.

His hands were kneading and groping, and he couldn’t get enough.

None of his daydreams were this good, and he needed to have more. He was greedy, his hands wandering lower. He was kneading and threading his fingers against the back of your thighs, grinding you into his body.

You were flush against his skin, his bare chest digging into your cheer uniform. All you could feel was the heat radiating off him. And when he moved away and back again, your focus changed.

His jeans were no match for the aching need between his legs. He was hot and bothered long before you showed up, and now his body was thrumming. He needed it, needed you.

Eddie’s attention was brutal, and when his lips moved from your lips down to the column of your throat, you made a noise you had never heard before. He cursed against your skin.

Slow and low and needy, you were moaning at his touch.

It was unapologetic. You were so easy to let him take control. His mouth was hot, his tongue and teeth drawing a pattern on your skin.

“Come on, Eddie,” You finally gathered the words to say. “It’s always been you.”

You were melting into him. And then he was moving, pulling you through the trailer back to his room.

The air was heavier in there, smelling like sweat and cologne and Eddie. It was heady, being so close to his sanctuary. You were an invader, urging your way in.

You tugged at his scalp and pulled him back into a searing kiss. Eddie hissed. It was all tongue and teeth, and you were pulled down on top of him in a rush.

He was sitting on the edge of the bed, bringing you down to straddle him.

Seeing you there with your skirt splayed out around you was filthy. Your thighs were flattened against his, and his eyes rolled back.

His hands were still at the back of your thighs, pulling you closer and closer. You felt all of him. Your eyes were wide as he ground your body against his until your pubic bones collided. Your panties were a laughable barrier, dragging across the denim as he kneaded your skin. But your eyes rolled back, following his lead.

And when you started to move on your own, in tandem with his grinding, he stopped.

“Fuck, princess.” Eddie’s groan was wicked. “I’ve been thinking about you all day. It’s too much, it too-“ But he stopped when you reached for his jean vest, pulling it down his arms and throwing it to the floor.

“You’re so goddamned pretty,” You praised, your fingers dancing along his collar and down his chest. “Just let me have this, Eds. Please.”

Even in the confines of his pants, you could feel just how eager he was. He was jumping up at each new discovery of your hands.

Your hands lingered on his face and neck but wandered lower. At last, you stopped, looking down at where your skirt covered the top of his jeans.

You called his name.

He didn’t even realize he was thrusting up against your body until you cradled his cheek in your hand.

“I need you so bad. It’s killing me. Please, sweetheart,” he begged. “I just want to make you feel good. Let me make you feel good.”

He was in delirium, and he had hardly touched you.

“I want to show you how crazy you make me.” He groaned as you palmed over the bulge in his pants. “Holy sh – I’ve got to show you. I’ve got to show you.

“Eddie, baby,” You urged him to look at you.

His eyes were wide, his mouth hanging open. You had never called him that before.

“I want it. I want you.”

But before you could say anything else, his hand moved, brushing dangerously between your legs. You were trembling in anticipation as his fingers swept over the weeping cut of your body. He groaned.

You were soaked through your panties, and his fingers tormented you until you couldn’t help but buck up into his hand.

“Oh, that’s it, sweetheart.”

The endearment rang through your chest, and you were a goner when his fingers finally slid under your panties. Your slick coated his fingers, his thumb pressing against your clit as he explored. His fingers swept through the cut of your body, eagerly testing the waters before slipping a finger inside you.

He looked at you with a boyish grin before kissing you again. It was easy to get swallowed up in Eddie.

He could have come at the idea alone of how wet he made you, of how responsive you were. But he needed more.

In a moment of brute strength, he pulled you up with him so that he could pull his pants down over his hips. When he sat back down, you were giving him your own lusty gaze. He could eat you up.

If you thought you could feel him before, you were wrong.

He was hard and waiting, so close to where you needed him to be but only saved by the cotton between your legs. The friction was heavier now, and you were practically dripping down against him. Eddie was a menace.

“Are you sure you want this?” He asked, but you knew what he was really asking.

Are you sure you want me?

You’d never been more sure in your life.

“I want all of you, Eds,” You ruffled his hair with a grin. You could have sworn there were stars in his eyes.

But while you were enamored, you didn’t register that Eddie was lifting up your hips.

The movement was slight, pinning you close to him when you felt him bare against the cut of your body. He was heavy and hot, and in your tantric bliss, your panties had been pulled to the side. He was letting you sink down onto him, his eyes locked as you held on to his arms. He was all-encompassing.

The stretch of him taking refuge in your body burned all around you, and for the first time in his life, Eddie felt a kind of security he had never known. It knocked the air out of his lungs.

He needed to hold you. He needed to kiss you. But in another frightening surprise, you sank down onto his cock like you belonged there.

He didn’t deserve you.

“I need you to move,” He begged. “I’ve been dreaming of this for so long, princess, and now I need you to move.”

He wanted to show you all the things he wanted to do to you, all the nasty things he fantasized about, but you wouldn’t move. You were a queen, sitting on your throne, and we was going to combust if he looked at you for too long.

He held on to your hips, urging you to move, begging you to, but you pulled him in for another kiss. This was different; showing him all the waiting was worth it. You were trying to show him that he was worth it.

At last, you gave him the reprieve he was looking for.

You held onto him, pulling yourself up before sinking back down again. The sound was sinful. Your breathy moan was heavenly.

Eddie watched you take what you needed, dressed up in your cheer uniform and with his jacket still surrounding you. He thought he had died and made it to heaven.

But he wasn’t going to let you do it alone. His hand snaked around to the front of your body, sneaking underneath the frills of your skirt. His thumb took refuge there, brushing against your clit.

You were enamored, lost in the feeling of his hands and the thickness of his cock. It felt like a fever dream.

You don’t know when he started thrusting up, moving your hip with his free hand, but before you knew it, you felt a warm, familiar buzzing low in your stomach.

It was too soon.

You gasped when Eddie pulled you down on him, hard. You couldn’t adjust fast enough as he watched your reaction, doing it repeatedly until you were grabbing onto his shoulders. You needed a lifeline, a break. You needed –

“You’re fighting it, sweetheart.” Eddie groaned, giving you an open-mouthed kiss. “What are you waiting for?”

You looked at him, really looked at him, and the intensity of his gaze was overwhelming.

“I’ll catch you.” He promised. “Let go.”

And you believed him. You cursed into his mouth as you bounced on his length. Eddie’s chant was repeated in your head until you were crying out around him. You hit your peak. It didn’t crash like waves but was a steady, beaming feeling that left you warm inside.

There were butterflies in your stomach.

Eddie was looking at you like you hung the stars in the sky. It was so fucking pretty to watch you come undone around him. And as he watched you come down, he was finally able to crest, groaning as his hips chased his pleasure.

You were holding and kissing him, sucking him in with everything you had. He didn’t want it to end.

It was better than any high he had.

And when he was finally lucid enough to form a coherent thought, he tackled you down to the bed with a mighty roar. Your shriek of terror was replaced by your own laugh.

The two of you were beaming.

The mood had shifted. Your Eddie was back.

"I guess this makes you a freak, huh?" He joked, brushing his thumb over your cheek. His hand moved, reaching out to grab onto his jacket. "You were probably quite the spectacle today."

You scoffed, pulling your leg between his.

"Oh, absolutely," You exaggerated, thinking about the whispers in the halls and the snarky remarks from the jocks. "Which is why I could use a cheerleader tonight."

Eddie gave you a long, endearing look before giving you a wink.

"I think I can manage."

That night, it was no surprise that everyone came to the first basketball game of the season.

Hellfire Club was loud - booing for both basketball teams but cheering on the cheerleaders. They were high on Eddie’s high. Anytime you caught Eddie's stare, he would hoot and holler like a maniac - much to the coaches' frustration.

But Eddie the freak Munson loved to show off. And oh boy, he was ready to show you off.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x female!reader #eddie munson imagine #stranger things fic #eddie x reader

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reqxxyt · 11 months

Text

more than an arrangement

pairings: lando n. x f!reader

warnings: rushed ending, cursing, f!ckboy lando

masterlist requests are open!

[unedited] wc: 2.8k

_________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐

The media flooded once again with pictures of Lando Norris leaving a bar with another girl, arm around her waist as they left to the nearest hotel. This became an almost weekly routine, fans trying to uncover who every girl that was lucky enough to leave with the Mclaren driver. His PR team at first didn’t mind it until this routine became regular, growing tired of having to try and cover for it every single time.

Until you came in. You were perfect, an innocent appearing model who came from humble beginnings that barely anyone knew about.

A loud door slam made Lando jult in his sheets, uncovering himself from the sheets as he sat up attemption to adjust the light of the window that was now shining the room. The girl next to him fiddled around in the sheets and his manager looked pissed, glaring daggers at him telling non verbally to get rid of the poor girl he’ll never see again.

But Lando pretended not to notice as he rubbed his eyes, beginning to get up only in boxers as he asked “whats up?”

“Whats up?” she practically wanted to kill him, she pulled out her phone showing her all the photos that appeared when searching up lando norris, scrolling through the entire thing to show up the explosion of tweets about last night. “Lando you need to get your shit together”

“It’s not a big deal” he shrugged, waking the girl up as she sat up noticing the other person in the room and taking in the information from last night before her cheeks become a crimson red.

His PR manager couldn’t believe the words being said, it was getting ridiculous, absurd how he didn’t care about his public image. “Lando, you’re becoming the manwhore of Formula 1” she attempted her best to not raise her voice any louder as the girl behind Lando gathered her things quickly and left.

Lando stood silent, very little guilt entering his emotions as he just sat back down still a little sore.

“It’s time you make an announcement” she said, walking forward handing him her phone with your picture on it. Lando furrowed his eyebrows as he looked upwards, about to ask her what she meant but she beat him to it. “I already contacted her team and they agreed to it. You’ll be in a fake relationship for the next couple of months until you figure your shit out and don’t even think about going behind my back and be with more girls because then you’ll just look like a cheater”

He was about to argue back, btiing his tongue to not further his irritation, sighing to himself knowing he did have to change at some point, lowering his head no longer making eye contact as he just silent agreed with a quiet “sure”.

The next week, you arrived at the Mclaren building with only your agent next to you as your heart kept wanting to pound out of your chest, wanting to be anywhere but here. But you entered anyways, you spoke to the front desk and they greeted you telling you Landos PR manager would be out shortly.

You weren’t quite sure why you agreed to this. Hell you didn’t agree to this, your agent did seeing this as an opportunity to have your name out there but you didn’t want that. It would be like cheating the world, you tried to tell her but she would only reply with ‘It’s how the world works sadly’.

Footsteps walking forward had interrupted your thoughts as you finally looked to see a women in her early thirties shine a bright smile as she waved you forward. You shook hands with her, trying to be as polite as possible knowing you would have to be dealing with how they described ‘man-whore’ for the next couple of months. This wasn’t how your mother would’ve wanted you to go to follow your dream, but you understood the entire thing being a press convenience.

“This is Lando” she introduced him as he stepped forward. You had already done your research, enough to know most of the sport he was in, what he looked like, and his interests. You wondered to yourself if he tried to the same, doubting by the way he pronounced your name.

“I’ll let you two talk while I discuss the arrangements with your agent” his manager spoke whisking away your only friend up until this point, leaving you two in awkward silence.

“I’m sorry they forced you into this” his hand rubbed behind his neck a bit embarrassed as they began walking to the front lobby, you were about to reassure him before he talked again “although this would probably be a dream for you”

“Excuse me?” you were baffled by his assumption. He gave you a questioning look, as if the reason were the most obvious. “Why would having been tied down to you ever be a dream?”

“You’re name will grow with my fame, isn’t that the reason you agreed to this?” he asked not understanding as to why you were confused. Every other girl would’ve loved to be in the spotlight with him.

“If I had the choice I would’ve not been here” you scoffed, rolling your eyes. Your attraction to him quickly disappearing. You wished your agent could just hurry up a bit faster as your nerves were about to lose their patience.

“Right, obviously” he sarcastically replied, slumping down onto the couch chair, leaning far back as he crossed his legs. If there was one thing you hated most in this world it was egotistical jerks and narcissists so you only looked at him with disgust you sat next to him putting a few feet between the two of you.

This would only end with one of you killing the other.

Your agent informed you the premise of the plan, outlining your public appearances and announcement, when you would ‘surprise’ him at races, and overall interactions in front of cameras. Not making it too affectionate between you two quickly gathering the tension as they walking in the room with you two not looking or talking to the one another.

This weekend you were going to one of the races, practically dressed in all of his merch. You looked ridiculous in your opinion but you obviously couldn’t state that out loud, only covering it up with an oversized jacket that apparently was well known to the fans as being Lando’s jacket.

The drive to the race wasn’t at all nerve racking it was having to finally see the crowd of people by the paddock awaiting the drivers who would soon arrive with their loved ones, not knowing about you showing up hand in hand with Lando. But once they spotted the two of you, the swarm of people arrived taking multiude of pictures as you only tightened your hand, feeling your heart run a mile from the attention.

Lando noticed your tight hold, caressing his free thumb over the back of your hand. You two finally arrived at the Mclaren garage, having to be introduced to practically everyone as you gave them a welcoming smile, trying to appear as approachable as possible.

They called lando, feeling the sense that it was about to begin with rushed people around you trying to get ready as Lando turned to you not sure if you were comfortable enough but leaned forward anyway. Your felt your heart leap when he leaned in closer before suddenly turning your head, meeting contact with his lips by your cheek.

It took you both by surprise but he brushed it off as he just left, leaving you in the garage to watch the practice secession from the monitors. After it ended, he walked in giving you a simple greeting as you just complimented him loud enough for passers to hear trying to make it as realistic as possible.

The hotel room you two stayed in had two beds, per your request so you immediately crashed on the side nearest the window, you’ve always preferred it that way but you could feel eyes trained on you so you turned to see Lando shuffle away, turning away. You wanted to laugh, having caught him looking at you before he suddenly turned with serious look,

“Are you going to start getting ready?” lando said, sounding suddenly imaptient. You furrowed your eyebrows a bit confused of his sudden irritation. You only entered the bathroom to not entice him more, even if you did nothing. You came out only half an hour later with freshly washed hair and pajamas with enough display to send Lando to feel a sort of unbalance in his stance as he was getting ready to enter the bathroom.

You missed the way he looked at you with a deep desire beginning to grow before he shook his head, refusing to think of you that way and quickly walking into the bathroom to get ready. It didn’t take long for you to fall asleep, drowsing in an out before you heard the bathroom door open. You ignored it as you heard further shuffling before hearing the creak and you dosed off into a another sleep.

The next day was unsatisfying for Mclaren, landing in P12 on the grid for Lando. You two didn’t talk much, wondering to yourself if you should try comforting him but with his quiet demeanor you decided not to, thinking it was best for him to be alone and have a quiet time to himself.

On race day, you wore his mclaren mclaren, wearing along with some sweats not trying too hard as you weren’t expecting much from this weekend with cameras slowly lessening as the weekend went by. But you noticed the amount of photographers in the Mclaren garage, standing in front of Lando as he was speaking to one of his engineers, getting ready to leave.

“Lando?” you said, getting his attention looking at you now. You glanced at the cameras, already gathering the idea before leaning in and catching him by surprise only reacting a second later but you pulled away. Your eyes looked back at the cameras and Lando noticed, jaw clenching as you only showed him a soft smile whispering “good luck”

He nodded, lips tightened in a smile as he headed to his position. The race didn’t go in his favor and your sympathetic smile didn’t help as he just passed you, by accident having shoved you a bit on his way to the drivers room. You sighed, biting the inside of your lip wondering if you should go follow him before you just walked not leaving any room for longer hesitation as you attempted looking for him, having to ask around if they had seen where he went.

It didn’t take long before arriving at the shut door, you softly knocked and it took longer than youd expected before seeing Lando open the door “I don’t want an interview ri-” he stopped in hsi tracks seeing you with an apologetic frown. He wasnt sure how to feel and only said “here to comfort me infront of the cameras again?”

“What?” your frown replaced by a confused look before remembering a couple of hours ago. You shook your head, inviting yourself inside as you just said “No, can’t a friend just help another friend”

“We’re friends now?” he asked, wanting to scoff. You understood that he was taking out his anger on you but it didn’t mean that question didn’t hurt you, but either way you attempted to brush it off.

“Why not? We’ll be stuck for a couple of months together” you shrugged, Lando shutting the door.

“Because its all arranged. You don’t actually care about me” his voice stern yet his eyes held hurt behind them, only able to look down.

“Do you see any cameras right now, Lando?” you tested him, stepping forward. You couldn’t believe you were willing to understand his perception, normally with anyone else you would lose your patience and allow them to close themselves out, but with the boy who stood only a few feet away you would’t allow that. “We may not be in a relationship but that doesn’t mean I don’t care”

Lando thought about you differently since that day, he no longer saw you as the model that was forced to be in his mess of a life but instead the girl that was willing to actually be friends with him even without cameras around. But if they were only friends, why did each others heart pulse a certain way when near each other?

These two didn’t realize this until a couple of months later, a race in Mexico City. You were originally not going to go seeing as your modeling gigs had increased and you held no more time for races as much but on that weekend one of your gigs had to reschedule and you made a last minute ticket purchase to actually surprise him this time. It was almost no longer an act, growing closer by the day as friends, building a bond that started a strange way.

So when he spotted you on race day, his smile brightened as he ran up to you giving you tightest hug sending a wave of photographers your way expecting a more intimate action but he only kissed your cheek before you two walked to the mclaren garage.

Your outfit didn’t consist of much mclaren merch just an orange beaded necklace and a jacket borrowed by Lando (a friendly gesture, of course). You watched intently, growing a certain liking for the sport your media boyfriend was in, beginning to grow a smile the closer he was to reaching the top places. You ended up on the edge of your seat quite literally before the garage erupted into cheers as Lando passed the finish line getting 3rd overall.

Your smile practically reached your eyes as people in the garage began congratulating each other, proud of their hard work. You stayed behind as they did the podium rewards, not exactly being a big fan of crowds but making sure to congratulate Lando later.

And later came quickly as cameras followed the mclaren driver whos only mission was to get to you, to give you the biggest hug. He finally found you, with a bright smile on each others faces as his hands wrapped around you before pulling you in before thinking himself, not even considering the amount of cameras around you two. Just allowing your lips to connect with his, feeling all of the adrenaline suddenly kicking in again.

You two pulled away and finally noticed the cameras around, your shy smile suddenly reappearing trying to tell yourself he just did this for the image. Lando just grabbed your hand and left the scene with you, attempting to lose the press realizing how it appeared to you.

You two arrived at the hotel Lando was staying in, remembering you had forgotten to book a hotel but either way he offered to sleep on the same bed and without much thought you agreed to it.

“Hey, y/n?” he asked, stepping out of the bathroom with disheveled freshly showered hair and only with some shorts on as you began to get comfortable yourself, shuffling the covers around before stopping once Lando walked out. You tried your best not to stare at his bare chest, just humming in response. He walked closer, still debating whether to mention the kiss. “Ths kiss, I-”

“Oh that? Its no big deal, it was just for press anyways” you brushed it off, sounded unsure of yourself, wondering if you wanted it to be the opposite. But he stayed quiet causing you to look up now noticing his debating look, asking yourself if he was unsure about it as well.

“What if I didn’t want it to be?” his voice a bit quiet as he started to sit down on the bed. You pretend to give a confused, secretly hoping this was were you thought it was going. His eyes flickered to your eyes, leaning a bit closer, “what if I could just” his breath was now almost fanning your lips as his hand began to hold the side of your face. His eyes once again looked at your own before flickering to your lips “once kiss you in private”

Before you could answer back he pulled you in, crashing your lips against his once more. Now whether that was for his own trial run or desire was a debate you would unravel later. But in the moment, you only responded by following along, practically melting in his hold. His hand began to travel to the sides of your neck, allowing little space for air.

“I would like that” you finally responded to him once you two separated, the curve of his lips curving upwards at your response.

#lando norris #f1 #f1 x you #f1 reader #f1 x reader #f1 x y/n #lando norris x you #lando norris x y/n #reader insert #formula 1 #lando norris x reader #f1 fandom #f1 fanfic #lando norris fanfic #lando norris imagine #fluff

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renaiswriting · 9 months

Text

Under the moonlight

Pairing: Choi Seungcheol/Reader

Summary: Late-night adventures with the guy your parents hate.

Word count: +2.6k words.

Warnings: snicking out of your house, mentions of your parents not liking Seungcheol, kind of forbidden love (?), mentions of tattoos and dyeing hair being seen as something that criminals do.

Author's note: I had a dream like this probably a week before my birthday, and every time I heard the song "In the middle of the night," I kept remembering it, so I decided to write it down. It's cringy, so you're welcome.

Under the moonlight moodboard

Under the moonlight playlist

Masterlist

*if you wanna be tagged, please fill out the tag list form

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Your reflection on the other side of the mirror looked back at you with the same intense sparkle in its eyes as yours.

You put on your favorite perfume once again. It was your favorite perfume. The one for special occasions

The one you avoided wearing at all costs because it was too expensive to buy again, but that you wore because it was his favorite.

You touched up your eyeliner one last time and your red lips.

There was a sweet melody playing in the background.

It was one o'clock in the morning.

The sky was invaded by thousands of stars and the beautiful moon that had watched you grow up since you were a little girl.

It was still early.

You approached your window, sighing as your eyes were mesmerized by such overwhelming beauty.

You could feel your stomach being invaded by the tingling of hundreds of butterflies.

As nervous as you were.

A small chuckle escaped your lips, the sound startling you and causing you to quickly cover your mouth with your hands.

You were about to do something your parents would punish you for if they found out.

And that scared you a little.

But you couldn't help it.

The feel of his arms around your waist

His lips on yours

The sweet words he said as his hands drew you closer to his body

His perfume.

His husky voice.

The way he laughed

The way he looked at you

It was all so addictive.

That every time you set out to end this weird situation you were in, it just left you craving more.

Waiting for the next time you see him.

The images of the last time you had met only made the warmth in your cheeks spread to the rest of your body.

You looked at the time once more, wiping your palms against your clothes, before stopping the song that had been playing until then.

The volume was barely audible inside your room, so you knew your parents simply couldn't hear it.

Seungcheol: I'm here.

Taking a deep breath and a last look in the mirror, you walk as slowly as possible and carefully down the stairs.

You could feel your heart beating a thousand miles per second, pounding hard against your chest.

Seungcheol's black car was parked behind some trees, the spot he always chose because it was almost completely dark in case your parents or some gossipy neighbor wanted to look out the window. They couldn't spot him at first glance.

Its windows were tinted, so you couldn't see inside.

You bit your lower lip, trying to keep the smile that threatened to appear on your face from being too obvious.

The light inside the car came on as you slid into the passenger seat.

Seungcheol had one hand on the steering wheel, and his back was completely relaxed against the seat.

"You took your time; I was starting to think you might have changed your mind." He greeted you; his eyes traveled from your face to your dress, smiling broadly. "Looking pretty, as always." His minty breath washed over you; it was so addictive.

"I know." You rolled your eyes, gently tapping him on the shoulder.

You loved the way his strong biceps felt under his black leather jacket.

"I thought you might have fallen asleep; it's kind of late already. I was looking forward to seeing you in your pajamas." He teased you.

"Me in my pajamas? For you? Never." I joked back.

"Aw, trying to look all cute for me?" He continued the joke, starting the car and starting to drive away from your house.

The further they drove away, the more relaxed you felt.

You rolled down the windows, letting in some of the fresh air from outside.

There were almost no cars; it was as if you had the whole night and the whole world to yourselves.

"Did your parents hear you?" He asked, not really minding the silence between you both.

"No, my dad was snoring last time I checked."

"I was ready to take an emergency escape route just in case." He replied, and while there was a teasing smile on his face, you weren't sure if he was joking or not.

Seungcheol hummed the song that had started playing and turned up the volume a little.

You smiled.

Carefully, you moved your face closer to the outside of the window, trying to get a better view of the dark sky and the stars.

"Enjoying the view?" Seungcheol asked, his voice deep and husky.

"Yeah," you sighed, moving back to your seat. "It's definitely way peaceful out here."

You closed your eyes against the back of the seat, enjoying what came to be this little taste of freedom.

Seungcheol's hand rested on your knee, holding it gently.

The warmth of his hand spread from your knee to the rest of your body, making you suddenly all too aware of every move Seungcheol made.

"I'm glad," he replied.

You wondered if he also felt as nervous and anxious about these little meetings as you did.

Your fingers began to drum against the inside of your leg, trying to calm your nerves a little.

Seungcheol's hand caught yours without needing to look away from the road. "Why so nervous?" He asked quietly.

And truth be told, it wasn't at all fair the way he seemed so calm.

When one look from him had you shaking from head to toe,

"I'm not," you tried to defend yourself.

"Such a terrible liar." Seungcheol replied.

"What's that?" you asked, when the reflection of a light shone on his wrist.

Seungcheol smiled proudly, moving his arm closer to you so you could discover it on your own.

Your hand carefully moved along the red skin and dark lines. "Do you like it?" He asked.

"It's beautiful." You breathed, taking a closer look at the little details. "When did you get it?"

"This morning." Seungcheol replied happily.

"Did you actually wake up early? Wow. Unbelievable." You teased him.

Seungcheol pockets out his tongue at you. "I actually fell asleep while they were doing it." He confessed.

Your eyes were wide open with this new piece of information.

You didn't have any tattoos, but everybody that you knew that had one always complained about how painful they were.

"I must say, it's pretty, but the one on your neck is still my favorite one."

Seungcheol looked in your direction, making eye contact for a brief second. You couldn't ignore the obvious glow in his eyes. "I can take you to the person who did it; maybe you can get one of your own." He smiled, biting the inside of his cheek.

"And get my ass kicked out of my house? No thank you." You laughed.

"Well, what if you have it in a more discreet place? Like your lower back or something like that? I bet it would look good on you."

"I would pay just to know how many times you have thought about me getting a tattoo there."

Seungcheol didn't reply, but he changed the song.

You grinned when your brain recognized the song. Seungcheol glanced at you, chuckling at your reaction.

"Oh, you still remember it." He laughed, his cheeks tinted pink.

"How could I not?" You replied, laughing, "How old were you, nineteen?" You asked him.

Seungcheol snorted a yes, looking out of the window to avoid your teasing eyes.

"God, you have always had such a cheesy music taste." You laughed but still sang every single line of the song Seungcheol dedicated to you after your first encounter.

"It's not cheesy!" He sulked. "It's romantic."

Seungcheol would never know how much you replied to that song, dancing around your room like a fool in love, the first time you read the text with the name of the song.

Seungcheol and you were not exclusive.

Never spoke about not seeing other people.

But truth be told, you weren't interested in anyone else.

Since the moment your mother told you to stay away from him, it has been as if you had only eyes for him and no one else.

The first time you both spoke to each other was when your teacher sent you to give back the exams. Seungcheol accidentally bumped into you, and he apologized.

If he liked you at first, he was not sure about you.

Sure, he did look in your direction here and there. But he didn't talk back to you for months after that.

And you weren't sure if it wasn't for that party one of your friends made you go to, things would have gone the way they did.

Seeing him was fun, and it made you stop thinking.

Something that you needed so badly because overthinking seemed to be the only thing you knew how to do well.

Hours felt like seconds, and you always forced yourself to stay in the moment because the night was so short that you didn't have much time in your favor.

But then you were back at your house, back in your bedroom, between the four walls, wondering if it meant the same to Seungcheol as it meant to you.

"Are you sure you didn't fall asleep there?" Seungcheol asked, his hand coming under your chin and moving your head in his direction. The physical touch brings you out of your thoughts.

"Still wide awake." You mumbled, but a yawn made its way out of your mouth anyway.

"You sure?" He smiled at you. Finally reaching your favorite spot and stopping the car

It had a name, that's for sure, but you never learned it. However, you called it stars. Since it was so high, you could see all the lights from the city and all the stars in the sky at the same time.

The sky seemed way bigger from there.

It was usually occupied by tourists during the day, but at night it was mostly just you two in there (except one time where there was a car with a couple doing god knows what inside).

You went ahead of Seungcheol, getting out of the car and rushing to the edge, looking at the beads of lights that were shining brighter that night.

Seungcheol turned off the car's engine, and now that the place was completely dark, everything seemed even more private.

Seungcheol got out of the car and walked to your side at a slow pace, his hands resting in the front pockets of his black jeans.

"It is so beautiful," you sighed, trying to take in every single detail of the view in front of you.

"It's the exact same view as always." Seungcheol replied, You didn't need to turn your head to see him smiling, "but I agree, it is beautiful." You could feel his eyes on you.

You hummed, taking in the fresh air of the night.

There was not a single sound.

Seungcheol leaned against the hood of the car.

His hands were crossed over his chest.

The cold air was moving your hair, and that got you fighting against the air to avoid getting your hair on your face.

"You cold?" Seungcheol asked, removing the jacket from his shoulders.

You didn't respond; instead, you took a few steps back until you reached Seungcheol, who, after gently placing his jacket on your shoulders, moved his fingers up to your chin, lifting it so you could look into his eyes.

His free hand moved a lock of hair that was falling over your eyes, leaving it behind your ear.

"Your lips are purple." Seungcheol frowned, bringing his forehead together with yours. His sudden closeness got the reaction he was looking for, causing you to close your eyes in anticipation of his lips.

Seungcheol mumbled something, but you didn't really pay too much attention to it; your brain turned off the second you felt his soft lips against yours.

Seungcheol's hand moved to your cheek, his thumb stroking it gently.

Your heart was pounding so hard against your chest that you were afraid Seungcheol was feeling it.

Seungcheol moved his lips so slowly that a fire was slowly forming inside you, sending a shiver down your spine.

You broke away first, taking a step back and avoiding looking him in the eyes.

This was the part you hated—the moment when you wondered whether or not these weird emotions you were feeling were mutual.

If Seungcheol noticed any strange expression that was reflecting the mess you had in your mind at that moment, he did not mention it.

You sat next to him. Neither of you were looking at each other, but Seungcheol bumped you with his shoulder, lightly shaking you with his shoulder, and laughed when he heard your insults.

"Asshole." You told him, giving him back the push he had given you but using your hands instead, trying to use more force because Seungcheol was as easy to move as a mountain.

Seungcheol laughed, catching your hands and moving you until you were sitting between his legs.

"There, there, stop struggling." Seungcheol shushed you as if he were talking to a puppy that wasn't obeying.

He rested his chin on top of your head, drawing you to his chest as another tremor swept over you, hugging you.

"Maybe we'd have to get back in the car," Seungcheol muttered, trying to use his hands to create more warmth in your arms, rubbing the cold jacket. "You're going to be sick."

"In a few moments," you replied, "I want to enjoy this view a little longer."

"When you wake up tomorrow and can't talk because of a sore throat, remember to tell me so I can say, 'I told you so.'" Seungcheol complained, but he held you tighter anyway.

"What did you do today?" You asked, moving your head slightly to discreetly take in some of his perfume.

"No much," Seungcheol replied, his voice vibrating against your back. You closed your eyes to the sensation, liking it a little bit too much to be surrounded by his scent and his warmth. "I woke up early to help Wonwoo repair one of his motorcycles, and then I went to get the tattoo."

At the mention of the tattoo, your hand went instantly to his arm, your fingers carefully touching it.

"For someone who swears that she loves my other tattoo more, you're surely giving it way more attention."

"Yeah, well. The place where the other one is makes the whole attention thing difficult." You shrugged, freeing his hand.

"I'm still insisting that a tattoo on you would look amazing."

"I'm not against the idea, but my parents would be so furious at me." You replied.

"But what can they do once it's done?" Seungcheol asked, holding your cold fingers once again. "I never asked my mother for permission for my first; she saw it around a month or two later, and by then it was too late anyway, so she couldn't really do much. I bet your parents would get around the idea someday."

"I'm not so sure about it," you replied, but my mother sometimes still holds ground whenever she remembers that my older sister dyed some of her hair blonde when she turned twenty-five."

"But she was old enough already for that." Seungcheol frowned. "I was seventeen when I got my first tattoo." He chuckled.

"Was it good?"

"Nah," Seungcheol said, shaking his head. "It was so cringy, I got it covered up by another one."

You laughed, moving to get away from Seungcheol's arms. You were freezing, and the warmth that the car could provide was now way more tempting.

"Don't you think your parents would change their mind once they see you doing stuff like tattoos?" Seungcheol asked.

"I honestly don't know; my parents think that things like tattoos or dyeing your hair mean that you're a criminal." You smiled sadly.

"I would love to know what they think about me." Seungcheol smirked, turning the car on and starting to drive to MacDonald's to buy something to eat in the drive-through. Your stomach was already begging for some food.

The rest of the night passed so quickly that when you started realizing that the sky was now filled with much more light, you started feeling disappointed.

"You keep it." Seungcheol shook his head, passing his jacket back to you when you tried to give it back. "Use it in front of your parents; maybe like that, they'll start getting the idea that you'll soon also become part of the criminal life." He joked.

"I'll see you soon." You asked, hoping that Seungcheol didn't hear the hope in your voice.

"Sure, Wonwoo wants to try his motorcycles tonight; you can join us. Who knows? Maybe next time you'll be robbing banks."

You laughed, remembering the time you told Seungcheol what your father had said about Seungcheol's friends and their motorcycles.

"Yeah, maybe." You joked back.

And then the cycle began again.

You were dancing around your bedroom.

Wondered if he was blushing in his bedroom thinking about last night as well.

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withoutyouimsaskia · 2 months

Text

Sometimes It's Fated (Sandman Short Story Part 2)

Part 1 | Part 3 | Part 4

GIF: Originally posted by @harleytudinous

Pairing: Morpheus/Dream of the Endless x AFAB reader

Summary: Reader Self-Insert. After restoring the Dreaming and locating the missing dreams and nightmares, Morpheus turns his attention to finding you, the human he believes fate has chosen for him. (Title inspired by Placebo's "This Picture".)

Warnings: Minors DNI. Dark!Morpheus. Soulmates. Angst. Obsessive and possessive behaviour. Tension. Threat. Dream manipulation. Masturbation. Voyeurism. Plot related cigarette use. Dubious consent.

Word Count: 2.5k

A/N: So I know I initially billed this as a two shot but the story has run away with me in the most lovely way. Part 3 will be coming soon. Thank you for all your kind responses to part 1, it honestly means so much to me. Hope you enjoy this one too. All my love, Saskia xx

Sandman Masterlist

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The veil of sleep comes down upon your weary body with a feather-light touch, trying to coax your mind back into the world of dreams.

Dreamscapes have been a whole new experience for you in the past month of your life. Before, you would wake with no recollection of what had played out. Not even the slightest inkling. Now, you remember everything.

They are staggering; bursting with details and ideas beyond your most outlandish daytime imaginings. The emotions that are conjured by them, both when asleep and also awake are just as bold.

And even though it's been 23 nights since it started you are still finding them predominantly jarring and disorientating. You are baffled by how other people cope with the sheer vividness. The unpredictability. Maybe they have become desensitised. You can only hope that the same will happen for you in time.

One thing you tell yourself with each sunrise:

Thank goodness they weren't nightmares.

At least, you don't think they are. There's no resemblance between yours and what you have heard others describe over the years, nor to those outlined in a dream decoding book you had checked out of the library last week. There's no obvious threat or fear. No re-living of traumatic events. Just weird subtext.

The first dream found you standing barefoot on a beach. A mirage distorted the particulars of the scene making it impossible to see further than half a meter in front of you. The temperature of the sand under your soles was verging on painful and as such, it forced you to walk into the unknown before you.

A groaning wind started to brew and lifted the sand into sparkling flurries. You shielded your eyes from the abrasive particles.

The sun was at its apex when you heard the ear splitting bangs. Unmistakably gun shots; you didn't last much longer in the dream and woke with a start.

For the next week, your dreams had been like a series of video clips edited into a supercut.

Raven wings. Black cats. Hellfire. Ruby red glow. Sprawling library shelves. Landscapes hewn by earthquake fissures. Hotel corridors. A handsome, blond haired man wearing sunglasses, holding a blood covered knife.

If you didn't know any better, you would begin to suspect that your new box of tea bags had been laced with a psychedelic. Alas, no. Your hypothesis was unequivocally disproved when you friends had been completely unaffected after stopping by for a Sunday afternoon catch up.

This quick fire of snapshots eventually stopped, transforming into lucid long form dreams. You often think back to the first one where it happened.

Standing in the the empty room, and the appearance of the figure dressed in black. The colour that had flashed in their midnight eyes had the quality of liquid silver. Sometimes you wonder if you see the same image in other dreams, standing in amongst a crowd.

From that point on, regardless of what dream you are in, you cannot shake the intuitive prickle down your spine that tells you someone is watching you.

You reason that it is nothing to be concerned about. Humans dream, and you cannot deny that some of them - swimming in a sea of clouds, re-visiting childhood haunts, trying out superpowers - have been quite fun.

You roll over on to your left side and close your eyes.

You dream.

The room you see is expansive in breadth and depth. Impressive windows bring brilliant light into the space which bounces off the ivory stone of the floors and walls. There are statues positioned at equidistant intervals, implying that the chamber is a gallery of sorts.

One effigy, fashioned from bronze, and rich in colour draws your attention. The lines and curves of its form intrigue you, despite not knowing the creature it was portraying.

You are about to move on when the feeling of being watched sparks through your skeleton.

Everything changes.

Clarity gives way to haze. Sun is swapped for moon.

You see a man across the room. He stands with a perfect posture. Graceful, powerful. His elbows are bent, fingers interlaced, palms facing upwards. Sheer black fabric floats around his frame. It moves languidly, giving glimpses of his bare body beneath.

The man's face is imperceptible. The distance between you too great but somehow you know you are the focus of his attention.

His robes fall to the floor with a gossamer sigh. The pale, unmarked skin of his slight form glows beautifully in the moonlight. You look down in embarrassment as arousal flushes through you, and you see that you are suddenly as naked as he is.

You gasp, and snap your gaze back up.

The sight you see is rather unexpected. The man is intimately touching himself.

You feel compelled to mirror him. You immediately reach between your legs. The man groans as you make contact.

All it takes is a little bit of attention on your clit before you are ready to slide two fingers into your core. The noise you make at the feeling of the stretch is salacious. The man echoes you with a sound that is just as dirty.

It spurs you on and you burrow deeper.

You curl your fingers until your legs are weak and quivering. You long to sink to your knees so you can finish in a more comfortable position yet you can't. An invisible force is preventing you.

It keeps you on display.

Just like the statues to your left.

You wonder if it is for the man's benefit.

You try to focus on him but it is impossible to do so through the trembling glaze over your eyes. All you are able to sense from him now is the sound of the rhythmic pump of his palm around his cock and his panting breaths.

Desperate whines escape your lips. You are teetering on the edge of an orgasm but you can't seem to lose your balance and fall into the abyss. The unsteadiness in your legs is too much of a distraction. You rub at your clit again in the hope that it will bring the satisfaction you need.

It does nothing.

You are so frustrated by your body's disobedience that it is almost painful.

"Please. Please. Please," you mutter under your breath.

A voice suddenly speaks next to you ear. A velvet voice with the timbre of a thunder rumble. It pours like a soothing syrup into your brain and commands you to do exactly as it bids.

"Let go."

You climax intensely, crying out in relief, squirting all over your fingers and onto your hand as you legs finally give way.

The fall jolts you back into consciousness and you wake with a barely contained scream of pleasure in your throat and adrenaline lighting up your nervous system.

Daylight is peeking through a little gap in the curtains. You take a deep, grounding breath.

That was obscene.

The context, the actions, the sounds. That sultry voice at the end. From the throbbing in your vulva and the twitching of your legs it seems like you didn't just finish in the dream.

There is really no point in looking it up in the dream decoding book.

You were clearly horny on a subconscious level. Or craving attention, hence the exhibitionist behaviour. The latter is not usually in your nature to seek out but if it is the reason, you might not have to wait long before the desire is fulfilled. There is a work event happening this evening that may require you to accept an award and address the crowd.

You love this time of year where community projects get recognition; a nomination alone is a sure-fire way of garnering publicity which in turn helps the charity's outreach.

But first, a normal day at the office. You throw back the covers and go straight to the bathroom to rinse off the evidence of your wet dream.

---------------------------------------------

Your right hand connects with the metal push plate of the function space's front door. The heels of your boots click and clack as you cross the threshold, moving from floor board to paving slab.

It's fortuitous that you brought a long, thick coat with you this evening for the wind is wintery and unforgiving. You stay close to the wall of the building to try and shelter from it as much as possible.

The pavements are slick with recent precipitation, streetlamps bouncing off of the water with caustic white light.

Then you see him; a figure cut from shadow.

He's breathing in such a laboured way that you wonder if he is sick.

Your phone is still inside the venue, currently being guarded by a colleague along with your bag but it wouldn't take long to retrieve it and call for medical assistance.

"You okay?" Concern colours the simple question.

His reply comes quickly and assertively, "I am well, thank you."

You nod, not entirely convinced for the stranger's response was as stiff as his posture, and reach inside the pocket of your coat for the box of cigarettes and lighter stashed within.

You settle one of the sticks between your lips and use your thumb to bring forth a flame. The crackle of smouldering paper and tobacco perforates the damp air and you take a needy drag. The nicotine taints and tantalises in equal measure, filling you with guilt and relief. You've been trying to give up but the little voice inside your head had won this evening. You close your eyes and focus on the pleasure it brings before flicking some ash into the tray mounted to the wall.

Your attention now back on your surroundings, the stranger steps into the scope of the streetlight. The angles of his cheekbones, jaw and nose are accentuated to an incredible extent in the gleam. His dark hair is being buffeted about the wind, locks of it very close to falling in the blue eyes that are unwaveringly trained on you. He begins to talk again, showcasing his deep baritone.

"I'm afraid I wasn't entirely honest with you just now. It is not how I envisaged our first interaction transpiring. I hope that you can forgive me for my deception."

You laugh nervously and take another quick drag. "It makes no difference if you're honest with me or not. I don't know you."

"You are correct. You don't know me. Not yet -"

"Oh," you cut in quickly. "I'm not looking for a hook up."

While you cannot deny that he is arrestingly beautiful, you are technically working and have never been one for one-night stands.

"You mistake my meaning. I have been searching for you for so long. I oftentimes doubted your existence however I was wrong and I find myself humbled to be in your presence at last."

The grandiose declaration is one of the stranger things you have heard in your life and you used to deal with drunken patrons when you worked at a university bar. Maybe he was intoxicated; it would explain a lot.

"Look, this might work on other people but I just came out here to have a cigarette -"

It is his turn to interrupt you now. "You will have no need of those going forward. Your addiction to them will be replaced by me."

"Excuse me?"

You are trying to sound incredulous, however, inside you are rather frightened by the turn the conversation has taken. His gaze is not helping either.

The crystalline eyes are embodying every part of the descriptor; a hard, chill inducing blue. Ash drops from the smouldering cigarette as a tremble of fear rattles through you. The man sees this and the ice suddenly melts to a warmer hue.

His tone turns soft and gentle. "We are supposed to be together. Our union is fated."

He's staring at you expectantly even after your two attempts at rejection. You swiftly stub out the part-finished cigarette and take ownership in ending the interaction.

"I've had enough of this. I'm going back inside now. If you try and follow me, I will speak to the venue's management. If you are still here when I leave later, I will call the police."

You turn towards the door.

He calls your name. Your full name. Middle name too.

Despite your brain chanting at you to go inside, you can't stop yourself from looking back at him. "H-how do you know my full name?"

The profound rumble of his voice resonates deep in your ears. "I know everything about you, Y/N."

He's right in front of you now. His posture is bordering between desperate and predatory. Like he can't quite decide if he is seeking comfort from you, or if he wants to consume you.

You are fumbling behind you to find the door handle. "Please get away from me," you say hoarsely.

He reaches for your hand.

You jump back and struggle to get out of his grip but his strength is inhumanly strong. His skin of his palm is glacial against yours and yet somehow, the touch makes heat snake up your arm and settle in your chest.

You become aware of an internal feeling that you've always had, like that of chapped lips. Low level but something that constantly nags. Something that existed every minute of your life until the moment he touched you.

You grip his hand and look up at his face in astonishment.

"Good. That's it. Look into my eyes. See what you know is there."

You do as he says, totally stunned by the depths that seem to reside within them. It's as if there are universes suspended inside. Maybe there are. Perhaps you could float among the celestial bodies if you asked him to show you how.

You feel so alive and overstimulated that you welcome the delirious thoughts taking over your mind.

You welcome him.

It's like there is a cord connected between your heart and his that is shortening in length. The intensity scares you.

You obey, feet moving of their own accord and then you are standing before him, just centimetres apart.

"Give into the pull," he urges darkly, sensing your anxiety.

He smiles triumphantly and presses you flush against his body.

His free hand comes up to cup your jaw, fingers brushing the sensitive skin of your neck. More heat sears through you from the additional skin-on-skin contact.

Your peripheral vision closes tighter and tighter with every passing moment. The outside world is gone.

He leans in further and you wonder hazily if he is going to kiss you or break your neck. Both options are equally viable given the behaviour he has exhibited. You keep staring at him regardless.

His irises flash silver as he intones his next sentence. "Y/N, I claim you as my soulmate."

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Taglist: @herfantasyworldd @kpopgirlbtssvt

"Am I your dream girl? You think of me in bed. But you could never hold me. You like me better in your head."

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winterarmyy · 9 months

Text

Promise Me | Part II

When he was sent out for war, Bucky made a promise to his lover that might just last through several lifetimes.

Navigation: Part I | Part II | Part III (end)

Words: 5.2k++

Pairing: 40s!bucky / eventually tfatws!bucky x female!reader

Warnings: little angst, melancholy but fluffy stuff, we have bucky's pov in this one, lovers who missed each other very much, emotional reunion, probably bad writing of fighting scenes (sorry guys), mentions of suicide, mentions of sexy times, death of main character (y/n' s past life), another attempt to follow mcu timeline, otherwise, nothing that's too heavy/sensitive for anyone to read.

P/S: Thanks so much for the feedbacks in previous chapters! Here's the new update, guys! I hope you enjoy your reading!

Read my other works here: Masterlist

Brooklyn, 2024 – Glimpses of the past

"So, Mr. Barnes, are you still having nightmares?" Dr. Raynor asked as she leaned leisurely on her chair. However long it had been since the first time she met Bucky on their first therapy session, she still couldn't crack the man to talk more than he deem necessary.

Bucky sat silently on the sofa that was certainly big enough to fit three people with its size, as he stared blankly at the door behind Dr. Raynor, wanting to avoid eye contact with the woman.

"James, I asked you a question." She prompted as she crosses her legs together. "Are you still having nightmares?"

If he was being truthful, then his answer would've been yes, however he decided to test if she managed to see through him, "No." He replied with a convincing tone.

Dr. Raynor paused for a moment as she eyed his behaviour, "We’ve been doing this long enough that I can tell when you’re lying." She quirked her eyebrow as if she was non-verbally asked him to cut the crap.

"Well, you seem a little off today. Did something happen recently?"

Yes. Something did happened recently.

Sure, there was the horrid nightmare that had been haunting him in his sleep most of the nights, but lately there was something else that's been making unannounced appearance in his dreams. Something much older than his memories of the Winter Soldier.

They were glimpses of the past where he was but a man in his mid 20's living his best life with a woman he thought he was going to end up growing old with.

Bucky saw images of his younger, undamaged self tangled up in bed with that woman. His hands raking through her raven hair as he pushed the mess away from her face. And when she whined in her sleep he would let out a soft chuckle as he lovingly stroke his thumb across her cheek.

He remembered feeling the tug in his chest when the morning light touches her brown eyes as she peeled them open. He remembered the sweet smile she graced upon him as she pulled him in for an innocent kiss. He remembered the warmth of her naked skin rubbing against his own when she snuggled back into his body.

Those were always a pleasant dream to have during his sleepless nights. However rare it was to have them; he found himself spared in the gentle grace that she left behind from those loose pieces of memories. He realized that his broken soul yearns for her peace more than his will longs for his freedom.

"No." He lied again.

"You’re a civilian now. With your history, the government needs to know that you’re not gonna…" Dr. Raynor gestured her hands as if there was an invisible knife in her grasp as she motioned a stabbing movement.

Bucky let out a silent sigh, nodding his head with a somewhat forced derpy smile as she continued to explain, "It’s a condition of your pardon. So, tell me about your most recent nightmare."

However, Bucky remained stubborn on keeping the memories of his lover to himself. He simply shook his head as he briefly looked to the side and out the window, before coming back and confessed, "I didn’t have a nightmare."

Dr. Raynor breathed deeply, letting the air out through her nose as she clicked on the mechanical pen. The pointer latched on the surface of the lined papers as she started to write down her observation.

Bucky who was sitting on the opposite side only scoffed in respond to her petty attempt of threat, "Oh, come on. Really?" He taunted, "You’re gonna do the notebook thing?" Rolling his eyes in annoyance as he commented his thoughts outspokenly, "Why? It’s passive aggressive."

"You don’t talk. I write." The therapist replied with a short comeback.

Bucky glared intensely at her before letting out a sigh, "Okay. Okay."

His flesh fingers started to fiddle with his metal ones, a habit which he noticed he recently picked up after getting used to the high-tech vibranium arm.

"It wasn't a nightmare. It's just..." Bucky didn't know how to put it in words other than, "...a good dream."

It was in the peak of witching hours, when Y/N stood in the middle of the tiny kitchen section of her lover's humble apartment. The quiet of the night sometimes interrupted by the sound of the droplets trickling from the faucet.

There was a luminating light of the full moon that leaks through the open window, granting enough of a vision to see the layout of the kitchen. The stillness of the air made Y/N wonder if this is what she would need to go through soon.

Just an empty atmosphere without the presence of her lover.

And there she goes again, wondering in the seemingly endless darkness, thinking of the worst things that could possibly happen.

She had been staring unblinkingly at the counter top for who knows how long since she was woken up from her slumber.

Y/N couldn't go back sleep even if she needed to. Not when tomorrow is the day that she dreaded the most. The day Bucky was going on his first call, to be sent away to England first thing morning.

"Missed you in bed, yknow?" The huskiness of Bucky's voice broke her from the gloomy thoughts.

Y/N turned around to first see the bare shape of her lover's body, lean and slightly muscular, then trailed up to his sleepy grin, barely opened eyes and the mess of his bed hair sticking out all over the place.

She had to admit, partially, it was her fault for constantly pulling on them when he went down on her. But it was also important to note that it was entirely his fault for being so damn good at it.

Bucky's humming was hoarse when he walked towards her, "What are you doing up, doll?" While Y/N watched his naked figure moved closer.

Bucky Barnes is a beautiful man.

She knew that even before they started dating but it is a wonder that his beauty still to manage to catch her off guard sometimes.

The moment he engulfed her into his arms, she whispered onto his skin, "Can't sleep." She kept it short and ambiguous but that only became the biggest giveaway to Bucky.

Bucky effortlessly lifted her up on the counter as he settled comfortably in between her legs. His hands trailed along the side of her thighs, casually lifting up the thin material of her night gown before going under it to gently fondle with the flesh of her hips.

He leaned upwards, placing the softest kiss on her lips as he murmured, "Everything's going to be alright, y/n." He kissed her again for a good measure, "I'll be home to you before you know it."

Y/N wrapped arms around his neck, pulling him closer until their forehead touches each other's, "You must write me, always." She spoke quietly; as if it was a secret she wanted to keep from the world.

"You must tell me everything, James. Don't hide anything from me; every blood, sweat and tears. I want to know all of it." Her eyes pleaded desperately, "You must be safe." Their lips hovered over each others; so close, barely even touching, "And come home."

The blue of his eyes were glazed with so much love and adoration as he whispered, "I promise, doll. I'm not going to die before I meet you at the end of the isle."

Somehow, Bucky always knew what to say to make her crack a smile, "I love you, James. Too much for my own good." She pulled him as she kissed his soft lips, "I love you too, y/n. More than anything." He grabbed her by the head, latching his mouth on hers as if it was their last kiss.

Before she knew it, Bucky swiftly pulled her off from the counter and grabbed her onto his shoulder, causing her to yelp in surprise. "Oh my god, Bucky! Put me down right now!" The brunette simply laugh as she shriek his name, "James!"

"James!" Dr. Raynor managed to pull Bucky out of his thoughts. "You're clearly out of it today." She remarked before continuing, "And so, this woman in your dreams... Is she someone you knew back in the 40's?"

Bucky replied, "Most probably." He hesitated as he thought thoroughly, "Or it could just be a made up character that only exists in my dreams."

"Does she perhaps, have a name?" Dr. Raynor asked, in which he simply answered, "She does."

There was brief silence of unbroken eye-contact between them, before Bucky realized that the therapist was silently enquiring her name.

Bucky straightened his position in his seat as blatantly stated, "I'm not telling you her name." That was where he drew the line. Therapist or not; she didn't need to know his lover's identity.

Dr. Raynor hanged her hands up as a sign of defeat, "Okay, okay. That's fair." That was when the timer on her phone went off, "Oh, time's up." She reached for her phone and slide across the screen.

She quickly stood on her feet as soon as Bucky did on his own, "That would be all for this session. Thank you for coming in today, Mr. Barnes."

He had to let out a sarcastic chuckle when he said, "It's not that I want to anyway. It's mandatory." He walked towards the door but before he could turn the knob, Dr. Raynor spoke.

"Outside of this 'mandatory' session, I'd say my advice to you as a friend, is to maybe find her. Or her family." She suggested, "And if you're lucky..." She briefly paused, "...maybe she's still alive somewhere."

Bucky remained static for a moment before he spoke, "Thanks, Doc." He didn't look back to face her at all, before walking out the room feeling much more burdened than he did entering it.

Dr. Raynor's advice soon turned out to be a constant dilemma to him more than he anticipated.

Virginia, 1991 – The man she once loved

Y/N panicked. She didn't think the appearance of that metal-armed man will trigger a deep-rooted memories she was desperately trying to forget; spiralling her back into old chapters of her previous life.

It was the year of 1991 and Y/N was in her 6th life. She was a black widow that went rogue after managed on escaping the Red Room program about a few years prior. She was drunk on hatred and vengeance that she almost recklessly killed half of the people in her facility on the day she escaped.

It's not to say that she came out uncut, it was quite the opposite really. Y/N had left the grounds with multiple holes on her body and a deep wound her face; a cut from the inner edge of her right brow all the way across her left cheek.

And that left her with a very prominent and unforgettable scar. Though she couldn't care less about it, especially when she knew Hydra was out there still thriving under another intellegence organization like some kind of parasite.

After she heard the news that Howard Stark has successfully replicate the super soldier serum, she is now somewhere in Virginia, trying to hijack the products before it falls in the hands of the Pentagon or worst, Hydra.

Unfortunately for her, the worst thing that could happen, happened.

Someone from Hydra managed to get their hands on them before she could, leaving the corpses of Howard Stark and his wife in the broken down car, posing it as a road accident.

The bodies was still warm and she knew the culprit won't be far from the crime scene, so she rode on forward until managed to catch up with him. She never intended to confront him head on. She was planning to follow him to the meeting point where they will transfer the products to another Hydra agent, like they always do.

But he certainly didn't care about her plan when he changed his route to a different location. She didn't even realized that her incognito was useless when he nearly shot her in the head.

Now, with her cover blown, it was just him and her alone at the gate of an abandoned building. "Well, shit." Y/N cursed.

She could feel the heavy tension from the atmosphere. Silence from the wordless man were screaming louder than her pumping heartbeat.

There were only two of those run-down street lamp that helped to brigthen up the battlefield. But even with the dying light, Y/N could see the silver of left arms, a red star on the upper side, black mask covering lower half of his face and a messy black shadow all over his eyes.

She knew who he was; though most of the intelligence community doesn't believe he exists. The ones that do call him the Winter Soldier. Hydra's most prized asset from the Winter Soldier program that Y/N had been trying to track for months.

Maybe it was a careless greed, or maybe she was just tired of living. But, Y/N dared herself to fight the against super soldier. It was intense but completely one-sided as the soldier managed to counter most her punches and kicks.

There were times that she felt like he was simply playing around with her and that riled Y/N to the core. If it wasn't enough for God to toy with her life, now this weapon of Hydra is joining the fun.

She was sick of it; and it got her to be impatient. That, however, was a mistake that she shouldn't have done especially during a hand-to-hand combat with the Winter Soldier himself.

Y/N ducked down from his swinging arm as she surged her own towards him but the man could see her moves from a mile away, so he dropped his knife to his other hand and managed to strike the blade right into where her pulsing heart resides.

All the times she had ripped her own life, it seemed that her soul was used to the pain that it took a few moments of time to register the pain.

"Ah, this is truly exhausting." She thought to herself.

She wanted it to end.

She wanted to rest. For good.

In her hazy vision, she looked up at the soldier and noticed that he had been staring blankly into her eyes; like a curious predator watching his dying prey.

She knew it was wrong, but looking closer at the shade of blue in his dead and frozen eyes, she couldn't help to find the resemblance in the man she once loved.

It was cruel to find the semblance of her lover in the eyes of her killer, but that tends to happen when a person's soul longed for someone so much that everything and anything became the reminder of them.

Streams of tears trickled down into her ears as her blood seeped through her clothes, staining the fabric and the ground under her.

Instead of hearing the sound of the soldier's footstep walking away, all she could hear was the vivid memories of Bucky's laughter, "I miss you, James."

She truly did.

She missed him so much that she wished that she can finally die this time around, praying for a chance to meet him once more.

But alas, that's not gonna happen anytime soon. Not when the God hates her now.

"I miss you so much." her voice shivered as she whispered her last breath.

Madripoor, 2024 – Long-lost lover

Easy to say, Y/N was furious that she let the memories of her past, the appearance of the winter soldier, distract her focus for her mission. She was furious that she didn't manage to get into Wilfred's lab before someone else did.

Don't get her wrong, though.

She was somewhat grateful when she found him dead, because that's means there's one less parasite that could potentially revive Hydra from the recreation of super soldier serum. But, she was pissed that she wasn't able to dig for more information about his research and the people he was affiliated with.

She knew he was recruited by the CIA before the blip but seeing that his lab is now basically a cargo, located in Madripoor, she doubt that he has anything to do with CIA now.

He's probably working with someone else in the underground scene.

Y/N sat leg-crossed on stacks of cargo, as she watched the scene from afar. The bounty hunters were ruthlessly attacking a group of criminals that attacked Shelby last night, while they were completely out-numbered.

She heard from the bar that it was considerably a high pay for the rewards especially when the targets were consists of the runaway prisoner, Zemo, Hydra's weapon, the Winter Soldier and the member of Avenger, the Falcon.

It was indeed an odd group of people but she couldn't care less about how that came to be. What caught her attention was the fact that the Falcon, who is a member of the Avenger, was affiliated with the Winter Soldier, who is an asset of Hydra.

And the fact that they were digging their feet in the underground world for the super soldier serum making the trio combination even more concerning.

She knew it was the best bet to approach the Falcon for information rather than going for the other two, so when the group split up during their fight, she quietly followed the Falcon.

He was a bit clumsy when fighting alone; or maybe it was because the hunters kept streaming in non-stop. Nonetheless, one by one, eventually the Falcon managed to take them down.

Y/N lurked at the corner, quietly observing his fighting style as he struggled with the few that was left.

"He's going to run out of ammo." She thought to herself.

And two shots later, he did.

There were two hunters left and he had no choice but to use his fists. Looking at him now, maybe he suited the hand-to-hand combat style more than gun combat. Y/N noticed his moves are more seamless than when he fight with a gun a few seconds ago.

The Falcon breathed heavily as the last hunter was tackled down. She decided that it had to be now or never, at least before the winter soldier came to the scene to regroup. When she stepped out of her camouflage, the Falcon only noticed her presence that he missed the red dot on his chest.

But, Y/N saw it, "Fuck! He can't die. Not before I get what I want." She couldn't let him go without getting information she needed from him.

In mere seconds, she jumped towards him and managed to pulled him away from the target. However, it was not far enough, that was when the bullet grazed on his side. Y/N quickly grabbed her throwing knife and land it right into the hunter's head.

The Falcon staggered backwards, meeting his back on the side of the cargo as he groaned in pain. His eyes scanned the appearance of his potential saviour; hooded figure, mask-covered face, assassin-like dressed – he realized that she matched the description of what Sharon had warned him before.

"So before we move, this might be unrelated, but I gotta warn you guys about someone." Sharon spoke as she equipped herself.

The three men looked over her as they gave their undivided attention, "While last night was hectic with the return of the Winter Soldier." She briefly looked over at Bucky, "But, there was also another person that made an appearance."

"She's known as the Deathstalker." She paused. "What I can say about her is she's a basically mystery; appeared out of thin air a few months into the blip." Sharon explained, earning a couple of nods from Sam and the signature frown from Bucky.

However, Zemo simply smiled and commented, "Ah, the pretty little Deathstalker." The mannerism of his speech was thick with Sokovian accent.

"You know her?" Sharon quirked.

Zemo smiled again, this time a little bit too smug, "We might have once crossed our path." He kept it ambiguous.

"When? You were in the prison years before the blip." Sam frowned as he questioned.

Sipping on the glass of liquor, Zemo answered, "She may or may not have 'visited' me to get some information about Hydra."

The mention of Hydra caught Bucky's attention but he kept it well hidden under his stoic expression. Noticing Sam's confusion with Zemo's insinuating answer, Bucky simply laid it out for him, "It means, she broke into the prison, Sam." he simply sighed.

Sam jutted his lips as he shrugged, "Guess you're not the only one who's insane here, Buck." He teased as he poked fun of Bucky's decision of 'breaking into the prison' to let Zemo out.

"You said, 'pretty little Deathstalker'. So you've seen her face?" Sharon asked curiously as she crossed her arms to her chest. No one had seen the assassin's face before, so she could help but to ask.

Zemo shook his head, "No. But that signature mask of hers cannot hide the beauty within." He smirked as he recalled the look in the Deathstalker's eyes; she had that obsession for vengeance. As he did when he broke the Avengers apart .

"You see, I've always had the eyes for beautiful things." He explained as if it was a natural thing to say.

Sharon knew shouldn't let herself expect too much from Zemo, especially when he had that attitude. She simply rolled her eyes and walked towards the seat next to Sam.

Bucky leaned his back into the sofa, spreading his legs apart as he asked, "Is she gonna be a problem?" An assissin that's been breaking into prison to ask Zemo about Hydra. That doesn't seem like a casual information to overlook.

Sharon shrugged as she continued, "Well, depends on your move. But, I'd advice you to never get on her bad side. People speculated that she's a rogue assassin turned bounty hunter but the thing is... she has never taken any job."

Bounty hunters get their money from jobs that's advertised all over the city. So, the Deathstalker couldn't be called a Bounty Hunter when she never take jobs before. If it were up to Sharon, the Deathstalker was much suited under the same category as Ronin, the masked vigilante who tracks down and slaughters criminals during the blip.

Sharon explained that, "She just stalks around the underground scene, and leave bodies behind for people to find."

Zemo interjected, "Hence, her name." Gaining a glare from Sharon, that translates to "Do you want to tell the story or what?"

"Right." Sam nodded as he takes in the information.

After earning a silent apology from Zemo, Sharon continued, "No one knows who she works for or what her aim is but there's rumours she's been hunting down Hydra, or anyone and anything affiliated to it."

Again, the Deathstalker's obsession with Hydra had caught Bucky's attention. A rogue assassin seemingly made it her mission to hunt down Hydra?

Bucky doesn't know what to make of that. So, he kept his questions to himself. Eitherway, if she gets in their way, he'd still need to fight against her.

"Why are you telling us this again?" Sam asked as he didn't find the connection between their mission and the Deathstalker.

Sharon replied, "It's just worth to note that she might be hunting for Wilfred Nagel too." She paused as her gaze fell into Bucky's, "...since the super soldier serum had been Hydra's obsession for centuries."

The Dealthstalker technically saved his life.

So, does that mean that she was not an enemy?

Sam was struggling between containing his pain and coming up with a plausible conclusion but Y/N's action quickly give him the answer he needed.

Within seconds, she had Sam pinned against the wall as the edge of her sharp blade dug into the skin of his neck, "What is an Avenger doing with the Asset?" Her voice sounded distorted through the voice-changing mask.

"Lady, I don't know what you're talking about!" He grunted in protest.

Sam was not used to Bucky being labeled as an "asset". Sure, he knew the name of Winter Soldier or Soldat. But, Bucky was never addressed as the Asset, at least not by the people around him.

Y/N grabbed him by the collar and harshly slammed him against the metal of the cargo behind him, causing him to curse as the pain struck on the side of his abdomen.

"Are you planning to revive Hydra?" Her menancing eyes searched into his, demanding for a truthful answer.

What kind of bullshit was she talking about?

Reviving Hydra?

Why the hell would he do that?

However, before Sam could retort to her accusation, Y/N was pulled back by an arm, wrapped around her neck from behind. She knew it was the Winter Soldier from the cold metal burning into her skin. The soldier's other hand grabbed onto her wielded hand, forcefully bending her wrist until the knife fell from her grasp.

He easily lifted her up in the air as he backed away, tightening the lock of his left arm around her neck while twisting her right hand to her back with his flesh hand. The smaller let out a robotic groan through her mask as she struggled in his chokehold.

While the two wrestled in between holding one down and freeing oneself, Sharon quickly ran to Sam's side, "Are you alright?" she prompted as she examined his wounds. The male simply nodded his head, "Yeah, it's just a graze." He explained before asking, "Is that the Deathstalker chick that you've been talking about?"

Sharon followed his gaze, and eyed the woman who was still struggling in Bucky's hold before she managed to land a paticularly sharp strike right into Bucky's stomach, "Yeap, that would be her." Sharon answered.

Usually a few strikes by an elbow of a woman doesn't really hurt the super soldier but unfortunately for him, the elbows of the suit Y/N was wearing were armored with thin yet effective pad made of vibranium. Due to its ability is to absorb and dissipate shocks, it managed to push him back and simultaneously loosen his hold on her.

When his guard was down, Y/N took the opportunity to slightly twist her foot back around his and grab onto his left arm. She pushed her bottom into his hips as she bend over, pulling onto his arm as she flipped him forward.

Y/N stepped backwards, standing on guard as the soldier rolled over on the ground before finding a position to stop the inertia; one knee of the ground while the other leg paused at his foot with his back facing her.

Her hands reached to her back and pulled two knives from the holster on the belt, gripping them by the handle while the blades facing downwards. She bended her knees into stance, much like a panther ready to pounce.

But when the soldier stood on his feet and turned around, suddenly her defensive stance flatter and her breath were cut short. The battled-tensed surroundings did not matter when all she could see was the soldier's face.

He looked a bit aged from the last time she saw him but a lot younger considering it was decades ago.

How could she forget those livid-blue eyes sharpen beneath the deep frown he was wearing?

Or the softness of his pursed lips ghosting over her own?

Even if the smooth skin of his forehead were now decorated with thin lines of wrinkles, and the exhaustion in the discoloration under his eyes had overshadowed the playful glint he used to have; they could never fool her to believe that the man standing in front of her right now was not her long-lost lover.

"James?" Her voice was gentle but the voice changer behind her mask didn't quite conveyed her tone.

Suddenly, the high walls of her defences begin to crumble into mere pieces of fragments like crushed dried leaves on autumn grounds. Time suspended, almost too still, as if it was trying to give her the luxury to cherish the revelation; to revel in the moment of joy and relief.

And there wasn't any thoughts formulated in the fog of her mind besides the need to melt in his arm. Somehow the dark side of her mind managed to trick her into believing that if she didn't touch him now, then she would perish in despair.

Her feet inches forward closer and closer, and her knives were long forgone, leaving clancking sounds on the surface of the ground.

When Bucky heard his name uttered by the woman, somehow it didn't sound foreign to him. It was as if he'd heard it before.

And when he saw the wet glaze in her brown eyes as she hesitantly walk towards him, he knew then that she was not approaching with an intent to kill him; he'd dare to say it was quite the opposite.

There were so much emotions in her gaze; grief, yearning, sorrow, need, joy – that he even his ex-assassin's skill couldn't possibly decipher them all. And that had impeccably managed froze every nerves in his body until he can only stood there, paralyzed on his spot.

With each hesitant step, more tears started to swell in her eyes. Step by step she took, hoping he wasn't another fragments of hallucination that she made up to ease her needs, until she finally stood close enough to him to realize he was real.

Bucky knew he should move. Reprimand her before she could land any sneak attack that he might not expect; but he couldn't. Not when she gaze up at him with that look in her eyes.

He unexpectedly drowned himself in those waves of emotions in her eyes, not realizing her actions until her shivering hands cupped his face.

Her fingers were cold as if they were soaked in ice.

Her voice slightly cracked when she spoke, "Is that really you, James?" Even if she was looking directly into his eyes, somehow the question sounded like it directed towards herself rather than to Bucky.

It's real.

He's real.

Her eyes casted down to where her skin met his warmth. There was a slight tingle when her thumbs rubbed against the stubble of his jaw, prickling her skin perfectly just as she remembered.

"It's you. James. It's really you." She mumbled under her breath, convincing herself over and over as if her brain refused to acknowledge it while her heart does otherwise.

Bucky, on the other hand, didn't know what to do or what to say. But, he hadn't heard anyone called him by that name so affectionately since Y/N. The lover he left behind during WWII, who's grave he had been visiting every Tuesday morning ever since that particular session with Dr. Raynor.

However, something in his guts were screaming at him to reach out to this woman's plea as she cried in his presence, lost in her own world as she muttered his name again and again.

But, why?

Why does he feel the need to cradle her body in his arms, and whisper the sweetest things to calm her down?

Why?

Bucky gulped as his eyes loomed over hers, "Who are you?"

<< Part I || Part III >>

Read my other works here: Masterlist

A/N: Feel free to leave feedbacks! I'd love to hear your thoughts! Until then, see you in the next part 🤍

#winterarmyyfics #promise me au #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes x you #40s!bucky #tfatws!bucky #winter soldier!bucky #1940s!bucky

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azrielwingspan · 2 months

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THE STRINGS OF FATE (AZRIEL X READER)

A/N: I've wanted to write a series based on a dark , mystery themed vibe for so long and I thought this would be a good way to start it off. I get to write about my favourite characters and transform it into something a bit darker and mystery fuelled. So I'm hoping you guys enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed imagining it.

!! The image below does not belong to the author !!

Genre: Suspense thriller, Romance

Summary : The Prophecy. A band of words that incited terror in people but you had long since learnt that the fear of the unknown strikes deeper.

The prophecy was just the beginning of the end.

Warnings : Mentions of violence

PROLOGUE

"You would be a fool to not involve your cousin, Rhysand." Amren said coldly for the umpteenth time that night. "There is a reason the prophecy refers to the both of you. Don't try to change the course of fate boy. Not even a Lord of the Night can cross the Mother."

"I would be a fool to lead her into the arms of a certain death. If ignoring a prophecy is what must be done to keep her safe, I will do it." Rhys was growing more agitated as the conversation turned south.

"Saving one girl is worth the lives of millions?"

Silence prevailed at Amren's question. The office in the River House enclosed a dark and gloomy atmosphere as if detecting the undertone of the conversation and the issue at hand. The faelights flickered casting deep shadows across the Fae and Illyrians that had gathered in the room.

Hands clenched on the table, Rhysand took in deep breaths appearing to fight an internal battle. He had too much to lose. Too many to fight for. What was the purpose of being the most powerful high lord the world had ever seen if he couldn't keep his own family safe? He was tired of losing people, tired of fighting, tired of wondering if tomorrow would be someone's last.

"I promised her that no harm would come to her as long as I live." He said softly, seeming to speak to himself. "I made sure she was safe from Amarantha, from Hybern and mostly from myself. If it were to become public knowledge that we are related, they will hunt her down. They will torture her, use her and kill her mercilessly."

Amren's eyes softened at the agony in his voice. "The world is a cruel place, Rhysand. We do not have say in the destiny that has been chosen for us. We must simply walk, trudge and crawl along the path."

He let out scornful laugh, running his hands through his hair agitatedly. "It has been especially cruel to us I think."

Feyre's eyes lined with tears at her mate's heartache. She'd known about the things he had done to keep his cousin far away even if it hurt him. To see him unravel now because of a Cauldron damned prophecy was distressing to watch.

"Rhys." Cassian spoke into the silence that had claimed the room yet again. "I promise you, I'll keep her safe. No matter what comes her way."

"So will I." Azriel stepped up, his shadows stirring over his shoulders.

"All of us will." Feyre declared, her hand coming to rest on her mates shoulder and giving it a gentle squeeze. Her touch seemed to relax Rhysand immediately, his shoulders drooping underneath her hand.

Placing his head in his hands, Rhysand took in a deep breath, the battle within his mind coming to a conclusion. Feyre's grip tightened lightly, giving him the energy to push through yet another decision that would haunt his dreams for the rest of his life.

"I'll go visit her myself. Explain the situation. The Prophecy. All of it. Whether she comes or not , is upto her." The others nodded in agreement.

"That is the least I can do for her. Give her a choice..... live or die."

A/N : Comment below if you want to be added to the tag list !

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 1 month

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I've been dreaming of the Ruler of the Abyss.

Kneel to the Thorn Fairy, who shall make manifest one’s dreams—the wishes made by the heart.

He promises happy endings for all. Woe to those who doubt and defy his vision.

How does a moment last forever? How can a story never die?

Alone.

He has always been alone.

But alone he is no longer—not when he is in his castle, surrounded by hordes of his people. He will never be alone again. No one will, all thanks to his efforts.

Never, never, never.

Malleus easily traverses the thorn-crusted lounge, floating across them like a specter. The bodies of school staff and fellow students lie limp in chairs and couches. Eyes closed, chests rising and falling rhythmically.

As he passes, he runs a hand along their scalps. Brushing their hair, patting their heads. Tender touches wishing them well.

Here is a king's domain, and here are his subjects. He, the dragon guarding his trove of invaluable treasures.

Malleus turns to face his captive audience, arms spread out toward them. “Today is something of a special occasion: Night Raven College’s Founding. I do believe this warrants a celebration—and, of course, all are invited to the festivities.”

A wave of magic washes over the room. Conical party hats manifest on each person's head, decorations appearing from thin air. Banners drape across the walls, streamers spill from black-clothed tables laden with food, and balloons tuck into the corners, safe from the needle-like thorns.

He projects applause, stunned oohs and aahs. Here, he is not a monster, but fellow man.

"Hmm, we're still missing something." Malleus strokes his chin, deep in thought. He snaps his fingers. "Ah, that's it! Music. It's not a proper party without any music."

With the wave of his hand, he summons a series of floating instruments. Bass, cello, viola, violin, harp, each bathed in an eerie green glow. They start playing by themselves, as if being handled by skillful, invisible hands.

Soft orchestral song fills the venue.

The guests rise, puppeted by the strings of his magic. Thorns on the floor retreat, allowing his peers to spill over onto the area repurposed for dance. Heads loll over--Malleus frowns and fixes them.

"There we are."

A glittering assemblage.

He smoothly conducts the bodies into neat pairs.

A waltz, he thinks, is ideal. It is also one of the few forms of dance he is familiar with. A waltz it shall be.

Palms link, fingers intertwine. Hands upon shoulders and upon backs. And then they are set to the hypnotic swing of the music, slow and sweet and intoxicating, like a steady drip of honey into one's mouth.

Malleus threads past the avid dancers and to the one person that has not been matched. The little bat who had almost flown away, far out of his grasp.

"Lilia," Malleus breathes raptly, "look at how happy everyone is. No one was left out. No one was forgotten. No one has to be alone anymore."

With this gift... my blessing... I've protected their smiles.

The duty of any Draconia.

He's proud--elated--but Lilia, alas, does not share the sentiment. Instead, the ancient fae wears a placid expression, eyes sewn shut. The same as all the other guests.

Malleus chuckles. No one hears it but himself.

"How exciting your dream must be. Action and adventure, at the best of your strength... I'm afraid this humble gathering cannot compare."

He’s sure Lilia would agree with him, were he awake.

“Never mind that," Malleus says, dispelling the thought. No more what ifs, only there ares. "Would you care for food? You'll need to keep your energy up for the celebration--it just may last all night."

He beckons with a finger, and a platter with a large cake hovers over. It is an extravagant seven layers, each a different flavor. Details are piped on in buttercream icing, invoking the image of each dormitory. A chocolate raven, wings open and prepared for flight, crowns the dessert.

A cake knife slides into Lilia's hand. His fingers slowly closer around the handle. With Malleus's guidance, he cuts into the topmost layer--Diasomnia--of the cake.

Something thick, red, and sticky leaks from the insides. The knife is coated as it is pulled back, freeing a slice. The violet crumb is fine, the frosting neon green with a dark chocolate drip.

Devilishly decadent.

"Come, you must try this," Malleus insists, stabbing a fork into the cake. He stuffs the bite into Lilia's mouth--but it doesn't stay, just rolls out and lands with a squishy splat on the ground.

Malleus eagerly waits for Lilia to beam at him, to praise him for its deliciousness.

It never comes.

Malleus laughs as though Lilia has responded as he imagines him to. He's drunk with delirium.

The strings abruptly screech, the dancers ceasing in their revelry.

He lets the unfinished slice fall. The plate shatters, reflecting one hundred Malleuses, one hundred Lilias. So many realities, and yet this is the one he has been dealt.

He guides the corners of Lilia's mouth upward, forcing a smile.

"Happy Night Raven College Founding Day," Malleus whispers, "and may you all have the sweetest of slumbers."

To his guests, to Lilia, to himself. And to the world that will soon be joining them in this delightful, never-ending dream.

Raising a hand, he unleashes fireworks from his palm. They explode in wild shapes and colors, emitting warmth and dazzling lights. The display is beautiful but fleeting--long shadows running along the walls before they blip out of existence and return to the darkness.

Every dream is like a firework, he surmises. A fiery flower frozen in time at the height of its bloom. They shall never wither nor fade.

Malleus reclines into his seat--a spiked and scaled throne, mounted high above the party venue. A lone king, untouchable.

Seated upon a mountain of lies, he looks out at his twisted kingdom. It’s a scene of his own creation, props lovingly places and toys carefully posed, acting out situations in his head.

The average school day at Night Raven College: students bickering, teachers watching over them. They see him, smile and wave. Talk with him, invite him.

Stay with him.

A loop playing, forever and ever.

Malleus sighs contentedly.

This is his happily ever after—from now until the end of eternity.

#twisted wonderland #twst #Malleus Draconia #twst anni #twisted wonderland anniversary #twst anniversary #twisted wonderland anni #disney twisted wonderland #disney twst #I've been dreaming...#book 7 spoilers #twst countdown #twisted wonderland countdown #twst imagines #twst scenarios #twisted wonderland scenarios #twisted wonderland imagines #Lilia Vanrouge

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abitohoney · 10 months

Text

Pray To Me

AO3 link

Sevika x female reader

Rating: Explicit, MDNI, NSFW

Tags: Established Relationship, Shameless Smut, Light Dom/sub, Dom Sevika, Sub Reader, Banter, Humor, Fluff, Spanking, Cunnilingus, Lesbian Sex, Choking, Praise Kink, Rough Sex, Teasing, Begging, Multiple Orgasms, Porn with Feelings, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Light Bondage, Reader is a bratty smartass, Sevika is a brat tamer, Demonic goddess Sevika, gp!Sevika, Demon Sex, Breeding Kink, this is just filth

Word Count: 8.1k

Summary: After a series of graphic dreams involving your girlfriend Sevika taking on the form of a demonic goddess, this night in particular starts to really blur the line between fantasy and reality.

AN: This has been on AO3 since April, just now copying it over here. This was a birthday gift for the wonderful @master-sass-blast.

You sit at a small desk lit by the dim yellow lamp that sits along the back edge, dressed only in your underwear and one of Sevika’s old t-shirts. You’re trying to wait for her to return home before calling it a night, but it’s terribly late and your eyes feel as if they're being pulled down by invisible weights.

You stare blankly down at the picture before you. It's a sketch you started not more than a few hours ago. Through your drooping eyelids, it’s a blurry image of Sevika. But she’s not in the form you know to live and breathe alongside you in the real world. It’s a form you’ve only seen in your dreams. Vivid dreams in which Sevika takes the form of a demonic goddess.

A black tail extends from the bottom of her spine; thin and long. Black horns curl from the crown of her head skyward, their points sharp and deadly. Her chemtech arm remains unchanged, but her flesh arm includes black, curved claws at the end of each finger. Her normally steel gray eyes glow an eerie purple even though she’s not fueled by shimmer.

The violet pencil held in your hand rests against the paper where you drew a series of scars trailing along her left side, from her torso clear up into the black horn that sprouts from the top of her head.

The image blurs further as you start to succumb to sleep. Through nothing more than the slits beneath your lids, the last thing you see is the rows of pointed teeth that appear between lips curled in a devious smirk.

You awake sometime later, head resting along your forearm which lays sprawled across the top of your desk. Slowly, you open your eyes, blinking the sleep away and yawning. As you force yourself to sit up, you realize your sketch is no longer on the desk.

Well that’s odd-

“More of your silly drawings?” Sevika's voice teases from behind you.

You nearly fall from your seat with how high you jump.

“For fuck’s sake, Sevika! Don’t scare me like that!” you chastise. Rubbing your eyes with your fists, you try to process what it was she had just said.

Silly drawings.

You don’t even bother to turn to look at her as you give her a bitter reply, “They aren’t silly drawings. You’re just jealous because the best you can do is stick people.” It’s not much of a comeback. Normally you’re more than happy to partake in the banter, but you’re too fucking tired to deal with her games right now.

She chuckles mockingly and tosses the drawing back onto the desk. “What made you decide to draw me like this?”

Gathering up your supplies, you sigh deeply. If you answer her honestly, you’ll just be feeding her fuel to tease you more. But, again, you’re just too damn sleepy to come up with anything besides the truth.

“I’ve been having dreams. Oddly vivid. Of you in this-" You wave your hand over the paper. "-demon form. No idea why, but it’s happened more than once.”

“Hmm,” she hums, and you’re unsure why she’s not giving you shit for that, but you continue to explain anyway.

“It’s weird. Even though it’s different scenarios each time- you chasing me, or taunting me, or just circling me- you always look exactly the same. I don’t understand how my brain is concocting such specific, repeatable imagery of you.”

“What if I told you those weren’t dreams,” Sevika whispers near your ear.

Hot breath rushes down the back of your neck and you shiver involuntarily.

Now it’s your turn to laugh. “That’s ridiculous. Stop trying to scare me. We can have a battle of wits tomorrow. I just want to go to bed.” You place your hands along the front edge of the desk, about to push your chair back to stand when you feel something slide around the front of your neck.

You immediately freeze in place.

Whatever it is, it’s not her hand, or arm- or anything she should possess. It quickly coils around your neck until your head is rendered immovable.

“Sevika!” you gasp, pulse quickening. “What the fuck is that?” Your hands fly up to grasp desperately at the offending… thing. It’s thin and rope-like, but too smooth to be just that. When Sevika says nothing, only laughs deviously from behind you, your heart rate spikes further. Her tone is different. It’s much deeper than usual. But more disturbing than that is the eerie echo that follows it.

“Foolish girl,” she rasps against your ear in a chilling tone.

Something tickles the side of your neck. Something firm and wet, but you’re left without a moment to process it when whatever is wrapped around your neck tightens and begins to slowly pull you to your feet. Unable to do more than release an airy gasp, you claw helplessly at the offending object. Eyes wide in terror, you’re forced to turn to face Sevika. But you’re not met with the face of the woman you know in the waking world. You’re met with a wicked grin full of sharp teeth and wide purple eyes that glow as if she’s possessed. Surely she is possessed. She’s the embodiment of your dream version of her.

Then this must be just another dream. There’s no other logical explanation. But it feels so real…

“My foolish girl,” she sneers as she lifts you even higher, until your feet no longer touch the floor.

You kick helplessly, trying desperately to get a foothold on something. As you scrabble at whatever is around your neck, it dawns on you what it is.

Her tail.

She brings you closer until you’re face-to-face with her demonic smile.

"You've been awfully bratty lately. I think it's about time you learn your place," she taunts.

And fuck, her voice has changed so much. It's dropped even lower, raspier. She sounds downright evil. Despite knowing this could only be a dream, you can't help how your blood runs cold in fear. However, you're unwilling to let even dream Sevika best you, so you try to swallow down that fear before you speak. But before you can even open your mouth, the grip she has on your throat tightens, leaving you gasping for breath.

Sevika's dark lips curl higher at your struggles. Her throaty chuckle echoes throughout the room. The room that- you just now realize- is suddenly fading away. Warping into something else entirely.

Your wide eyes flit around in shock as the furniture, the wall hangings, the flooring- even the walls themselves- all of it darkens and blurs until they disappear entirely. The two of you are left in a seemingly endless black room containing nothing more than a large, deep red settee situated a few feet away. And she's carrying you towards it.

You're tossed, rather haphazardly, onto the seat. Finally free of the restriction on your airway, you gasp and gulp down oxygen. Bringing your hands to your neck, you rub the sore tissue and tendons beneath.

“What the fuck, Sevika?” you demand.

Sevika towers over you, casting a shadow beneath a dim purple light that appears to emanate from somewhere behind her. The sides of her feet touch yours. But as you stare down at them, you realize they aren't her normal feet. They are larger. With long, sharp, black toenails. You shudder before letting your eyes slowly travel up the length of Sevika.

She's not in her usual getup. Not even the one you typically see her in when you’re dreaming. But you are dreaming, you remind yourself. As your gaze roams over her muscular thighs and all the way to the apex, you find she’s wearing nothing at all.

And oh good lord what is above her- Is that a… cock?

Something sharp presses into the soft flesh beneath your chin, forcing you to lift your head- to draw your attention away. At first, you think it must be a finger of her prosthetic arm. However, as your gaze lifts higher, you realize it’s her flesh arm before you. That’s definitely a claw threatening to pierce your skin.

“See something you like, kitten?” Sevika asks with a haughty smirk when you finally tilt your head back far enough to meet her glowing eyes above you.

Gods, is she even taller than usual too?

Still unwilling to let even this fake Sevka see you shaken at all by any of this, you snarkily ask, “Why the fuck do you have a dick in my dream?”

Another deep, taunting chuckle echoes through the seemingly empty room.

“Still think this is just a dream, huh?” she asks in that damn condescending tone she loves to use. She drags the tip of the sharp claw deliberately up the side of your jaw. Just hard enough to prove how deadly she is. “What will it take to convince you otherwise?”

You try to ignore the chill that creeps over your body, maintaining your own snide smile.

“Well, having the correct anatomy would be a decent start,” you jeer.

“Can’t exactly breed you with my cunt,” she retorts with a crude smile.

“Breed?” You huff out a laugh. “Like, you want me to carry your little demon babies?” Slowly, you shake your head in disbelief. “This is definitely one of the most fucked up dreams I’ve had about you.”

“Laugh all you want, brat. By the time I’m through with you, you’ll be praying this supposed dream would end.”

Mouth open and ready to fire a retort, your words fall short when you feel her tail start to slip beneath your loose shirt to slide around your torso. Your attention drops to that familiar long, thin, black appendage as it creeps further and further under the hem of your shirt, lifting it just enough to reveal the tops of your thighs.

Sevika leans over you, resting her metal hand against the back of the settee beside your head and lowers her face to hover just inches from yours.

You slowly let your gaze drift up over her lopsided grin to her glowing eyes. Reminding yourself yet again that this is only a dream, you make every attempt to hide the way her perverse smile makes your skin prickle with goosebumps. The way it causes your body temperature to rise. The way you rub your thighs together, clearly enjoying her like this.

She brings the sharp claws of her flesh hand to trace along the side of your jaw. Eyes locked with yours, she drags a single claw down the front of your neck, and along the dip in the collar of your shirt. She pauses at the center, delighting in how your chest is already visibly rising and falling faster in anticipation of what she plans to do next.

“I suggest you steady your breath. Unless you want me to mark that pretty skin of yours,” she warns.

Given no time to reply or even prepare, you release a startled yelp as she tears through the entire front of your shirt in one fell swoop. Her menacing laugh echoes through the room, and you swear you can feel it rumbling deep within your chest. Your cheeks burn with a mixture of anger, embarrassment, and something you’re not quite ready to admit to your cocky demonic girlfriend. You shoot her the most defiant glare you can muster. Unfortunately, you’re not sure it's very effective, considering how she not only has you held in place by that damn tail, but now your entire chest is exposed and on display for her hungry eyes to focus on.

“That was my favorite shirt!” you exclaim indignantly.

“You can find another,” she replies gruffly.

“I don’t want another. I liked this one.”

Narrowed glowing eyes rise to meet yours, their owner clearly low on patience.

“You can find another,” Sevika repeats with an air of finality. “Now I suggest you shut your mouth, brat. Or do I need to give you something to preoccupy it?”

It’s funny how she thinks a threat like that is going to keep you quiet. This dream Sevika is apparently just as daft as the real Sevika.

“Depends on what you plan to use,” you reply before tracing your lips with the tip of your tongue. You let your eyes slowly drift downward, intentionally making sure she follows the path to your destination; the thick, hard length that you notice twitches when she realizes what you’re implying.

“Hmm,” she hums, “Sorry kitten, but I’m saving that for another hole.” She draws your attention upward again, this time with the tip of a metal finger. “You’ll have to be patient.”

“Says the woman who couldn’t wait and just tore my favorite shir-” Your snarky remark turns into a startled gasp the moment you feel the settee unexpectedly rise and shift. The tail still wrapped around your torso is the only thing that keeps you from falling backward when the back of the couch suddenly disappears.

Once again denying you a chance to gather your wits, Sevika immediately lifts you with her tail. The remainder of your shirt falls off your shoulders, and she pushes you further back onto what is definitely not a settee anymore considering how you’re able to lean back on your forearms.

Wide-eyed, you quickly scan left, then right, discovering you’re now actually on a large four-post bed. Each post is made of dark, rich mahogany, and the soft quilted bedding beneath you is the same deep red of the settee.

Sevika slides her tail out from around you before crawling onto the bed and over your body. The mattress shifts considerably with her weight and you're certain now that she’s considerably larger than usual. And she’s using it to her advantage, confining you beneath her, completely cutting off that mysterious purple glow that had been your only light source since the room warped into nothingness.

Too focused on the way her face is plastered with that damn arrogant smile, you fail to realize her tail is slipping behind your neck until it’s too late. It quickly coils around it before the soft, pointed tip slips into your open mouth, muffling your attempted protest. And your struggles only serve to make those dark lips of hers pull even higher.

“Much better,” she jeers.

This time she’s wrapped her tail just tight enough to assert her control over you without restricting your airway.

Despite your efforts to remain unphased by her assault, you feel your restraint quickly fade when you watch her head dip lower toward one of your exposed breasts. Her tail prevents you from lifting your head, but you still manage to watch as a long, wide, forked tongue slips out from between her lips to run along the underside of your breast, leaving a wet trail that quickly cools and causes you to shiver.

Your eyes flutter shut and you groan around the tip of her tail as she teases around your hardening nipple. Unknowingly, you start to mimic her motions, swirling your tongue around the tip of her tail. Sucking when she does. Flicking when she does. It isn’t until you feel the press of something sharp against your nipple that you start to realize what you’re doing.

With a quick inhale through your nose, your eyes fly open to meet the narrowed threatening gaze of your demonic girlfriend. Her lips are curled back in a snarl, revealing pointed teeth. Teeth that currently threaten to cross the line from pleasure to pain as she bites down.

“Stop. Distracting. Me,” she snarls through her teeth.

Distracting? How the fuck were you distracting her? Playing with her tail?

Curious, you give said tail a good suck while running the tip of your tongue along one edge of the point. Those fierce eyes of hers suddenly fall shut. A deep, almost inaudible, groan reaches your ears and goes straight between your legs.

Fuck that's hot.

It would appear that her tail is sensitive. Hence your ministrations are distracting.

How… delightful.

Your lips curl into a mischievous smile around the appendage, but you’re a fool to think she won’t retaliate. And she does exactly that the moment she opens her eyes and catches your smile.

Sevika releases an inhuman hiss. And it should have been your warning, but you’re still caught off guard the moment you feel her teeth sink in deeper and cross that aforementioned border.

The startled cry that slips past the small gap between your lips and her tail is choked off by her tail slipping further toward the back of your throat. Tears prick at the corners of your eyes and your hands instinctively reach for the horns at the top of her head. However, before you can grab them, you feel the forked tip of her tongue start to move over the stinging flesh, soothing and replacing the pain with pleasure.

Sevika chuckles against your breast as she continues to slide that deliciously thick muscle over your skin. “I warned you, brat."

Even if you could speak, you wouldn’t have anything to say. Not when that sinister laughter of hers is making the ache between your legs swell exponentially. No matter how hard you pretend to hate her cockiness, there’s no denying how much it turns you on.

“Still think you’re dreaming?” she sneers before moving to lave at your other breast.

Honestly, you had for a moment forgotten you were in a dream. Everything feels so damn real.

But you know this can’t be real. So you give her a nod as you rub your thighs together in an attempt to relieve some of the growing need between them.

Noticing the motion, Sevika presses her knee between your legs to force them open, intentionally dragging over your wet heat. Judging by the cocky little smirk that paints her face, she feels just how wet you are through the thin fabric of your underwear.

"Gonna try to deny that too?" She asks.

You narrow your eyes at her and mumble something unintelligible around her tail.

She raises a brow. "What's that? Can't understand you with your mouth full." She taunts before removing her tail from your mouth. Webs of saliva connect and stretch between its tip and your bottom lip before finally breaking over your chin.

"I said fuck y-" Your snarky remark devolves into a sharp inhale of breath when Sevika presses her knee further between your legs. That teasing- albeit tantalizing- friction leaves you without a thought, at least until you hear Sevika's mocking laughter.

You open your eyes, not even recalling closing them, and find her face hovering over yours. Her eyes are alight with a sick satisfaction as she waits for you to meet her gaze. And the moment you do, you watch as that snake-like tongue of hers slips past her lips to slowly lick up over your drool-coated chin before violently delving between your parted lips.

The moan you release into her mouth becomes choked as she shoves her tongue damn near down the back of your throat. You struggle to pull back, pressing your head further against the mattress. Sevika's lips curl against yours and you're not sure if you should be irritated or turned on by just how much higher she is as a demonic goddess.

Once she's had her fill of dominating your mouth, she drags her tongue along your teeth as it recedes into her mouth.

"Mmm. So sweet," she purrs. "You know my senses are enhanced in this form." Locking eyes with you, she starts to slowly descend your body, her tongue sneaking out to taste your exposed skin at every stop. "Including taste." She starts across your collarbone. "I wonder if-” Then between your cleavage. “-all of your body-” Around your navel. “-tastes that much more-” And along your waistband. “-delicious."

Tilting your head, you try to watch her from over your chest as it rises and falls with deep breaths. Her clawed hands carefully spread your thighs enough for her to sneak her head between them. Your breath hitches when she drags that wet muscle over your clothed slit.

“Mmm. I think I need to get a better taste,” Sevika purrs before taking the waistband of your panties between her pointed teeth.

At first, you think she will simply pull them down, so when you feel the unexpected tug and hear the subsequent tear of fabric, you can't help the squeal that leaves your throat.

And oh that fucking arrogant smile she gives you… As much as you want to chastise her for now adding your favorite pair of panties to the list of destroyed items, more than that you want her to press those devilish lips somewhere in particular.

As if hearing your thoughts, Sevika begins kissing her way up the inside of one of your thighs. Although not without deliberately taking her damn sweet time.

"Sevika, please!" You whine and spread your legs wider in hopes of encouraging her to reach her final destination sooner. You should know better, though, than to let her see how needy you are. It only adds fuel to the fire. Her desire to break you. To tame you.

"Pa-tience," she enunciates before sinking her sharp teeth into your thigh.

"Fuck," you curse and try to close your legs around her head, only to be met with equally sharp claws threatening to pierce your skin as she holds your legs in place.

The pain quickly dulls into a pleasant ache as Sevika runs her tongue over the tiny marks. Rather than continue her exploration with kisses, she instead licks a warm, wet trail higher and higher.

You suck in a shallow breath and pull your bottom lip between your teeth in anticipation. With every inch closer she gets to your burning core, you hold your breath a little longer, bite your lip a little harder. The moment she reaches your wet folds to teasingly trace the perimeter, you release your breath in a shaky whimper.

"Now purr for me, kitten," Sevika demands, tone dripping with sin.

And that you do. You moan wantonly when you finally feel her lick a long, thick stripe up through your entrance. Pleasure courses through your extremities and heat pools low in your belly. She gradually stokes that fire with teasing little kitten licks just along the inside of your entrance. If you were of sound mind you may have even found that ironic- the kitten licks- given her pet name for you. But you're too lost in your own bliss to form any coherent thoughts.

Her name falls from your parted lips with a breathless moan and you can feel her resulting arrogant smile against your folds.

She's normally damn good with her mouth, but there's something so terribly exquisite about her demon tongue that sends you to another realm. You're not sure if it's the forked tip, the large width, or the insanely long length-

Oh good god the length…

As Sevika finally sinks her tongue deep inside your cunt, you realize just how long it truly is.

"Oh- fuck Sevika," you moan, "That- that feels so good."

She hums in appreciation before adjusting her head to allow the base of her tongue to glide along the bundle of nerves above.

It's a shock to the system, that sudden addition of unexpected pleasure. You hadn't been ready for her to touch your clit while her tongue was still buried inside you. Your hips jerk almost violently towards her face, but you're once again held in place by sharp claws against your thighs.

You attempt to form a protest, mouth open, and a whine at the ready. But, the moment she starts sliding her tongue in and out of you, rubbing it along the now swollen bud above, your whine fizzles and dies in your throat. A broken, garbled moan falls out in its place.

Sevika uses her tongue to straight up fuck you, and with little grace or care for how much of a mess she makes, or how obscene she sounds. Between the collection of her saliva and your slick, each plunge of the thick muscle creates a wet, smacking sound that resonates throughout the room. It's salacious, but undeniably arousing.

If she was stoking the fire in your belly earlier, she's downright pouring gasoline on it now. That familiar coil is wound so tight it burns, threatening to snap at any moment.

Without thinking, you reach down and grasp Sevika's horns, pulling her face closer as you attempt to control her motions. That action not only earns you a warning growl that you fail to hear over your own unrestrained moaning, it also leads to her removing the stimulation entirely.

Your eyes fly wide open and you stare down at her with pleading eyes.

"Sevika! Please don't stop!" You beg, near tears with desperation as that pleasant coil starts to quickly unwind.

"Hands. Off," she snarls, baring dangerously sharp teeth.

"I- I'm sorry," you whimper, but immediately release her horns.

"Hands above your head."

Apparently, she doesn't trust you, but you still obey. Anything to get that indescribably divine stimulation back as you slip further and further away from your peak.

Sevika's tail appears in your periphery and you feel it wrap around your wrists. She's not giving you another chance to control yourself. But after glaring at your distraught face for a good, long moment, she finally brings her mouth back to your slit.

Eyes fluttering shut again, you focus all of your strength on lying still for her as she wraps her lips around your throbbing clit. She quickly rebuilds the progress she'd made before. Each suck of her mouth and each rub of her forked tongue brings you that much closer to the precipice of euphoria.

Sensing your impending climax, you unknowingly hold your breath and tense every muscle in your body. Until finally, you fall.

Your body lurches as all that built-up tension releases like an explosion. Time slows as waves of pleasure burn through your every fiber. You cry Sevika's name, following it with a series of incoherent whimpers. All while that delicious muscle carefully works you through your state of rapture.

Just as you start to come back down to reality and feel the threat of overstimulation, Sevika moves her tongue from your throbbing bud to lewdly lap at the juices flowing from the slit below.

Chest heaving with shallow breaths, you gaze down at your demonic lover through glossy eyes. Your body trembles at the sight, renewed arousal making your legs ache. Her eyes are gently closed, as if she's thoroughly enjoying herself while she licks you clean.

Once she seems to have had her fill, she lifts her head and uses her knuckles to wipe her mouth clean. She meets your dazed stare with eyes so heavily darkened with lust that only a mere ring of glowing purple remains.

Your body trembles beneath her gaze as she slowly rises to her knees and moves up your body. It isn't until her legs are on either side of your waist that her intentions become clear. Your eyes travel down the length of her body. Over the sexy curl of her wet lips, the swell of her full breasts, the hard lines of her defined abs, until finally landing on the large cock standing proud, right where her clit would normally reside.

Several drops of precum decorate the bottom of the bulbous head. It's thicker than what you'd expect from a human, and tinged with a fluorescent purple much like her eyes. Instinctively, you lick your lips in anticipation.

Sevika notices that action, a haughty chuckle making her body shake. "Be a good girl for your master and get it nice and wet for me?" She purrs.

You meet her gaze for a moment and give her an eager nod. You're rewarded with a pleased smile and she releases your wrists from the grip of her tail. Slowly, you sit up, gaze dropping to the mouth-watering display in front of you.

Placing your hands on her hips to keep yourself steady, you watch for her reaction intently as you run the very tip of your tongue over the trail of precum. The deep hum of approval she releases goes straight between your legs, rekindling that pleasant ache. Your mouth fills with a bittersweet flavor that's unlike her typical slick and you wonder if that's been altered as well.

Your eyes flit between hers and the wetness coating the junction of her thighs. Clearly, she's enjoying herself just as much as you are. You wait for her nod of approval before dipping your head lower and collecting a taste of her slick, intentionally allowing the tip of your tongue to tease along her entrance.

You both groan in unison.

Though the texture is considerably different; less thick, the taste is still equally bittersweet.

"No more teasing," Sevika demands. But her voice is hoarse, broken by the desire that coats her throat.

Obediently, you move one hand from her hip to grasp the base of her cock before wrapping your lips around the tip.

"That's my good girl," she groans as you slide the length further into your mouth.

Your eyes flutter shut when you feel the scrape of her claws travel from the top of your scalp to the back of your head. Too caught up in that pleasant sensation and sweet praise, you momentarily forget your task.

Sevika, however, does not, and she holds your head in place before snapping her hips.

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes as she hits the back of your throat despite your hand preventing you from taking her entirely. It takes a great deal of concentration not to gag around her, but she takes mercy on you and quickly pulls back enough to allow you to recover.

"Focus," she grunts. "This is for your own good."

You peer up at her through watery eyes and thick lashes, but quickly slide your lips back over her. Hollowing your cheeks, you suck as you glide back a second time. And oh god, the reaction that gets you is enough to have you moaning just as loud as her.

Her eyes drift closed as her head gently falls back. Her throat bobs with a heavy swallow, and she digs her nails into the nape of your neck.

Eager to treat yourself to another one of those responses, you take her back into your mouth, this time far enough to reach the hand you still have wrapped firmly around the base of her.

But before you can pull back, Sevika's head tilts forward again and you're met with eyes completely blackened by a ravenous need.

"Enough," she growls. "Lie down."

Gladly.

Having regained enough of your senses, you decide to sneak in one more teasing action before she has her way with you. So as you slide your wet lips down her cock, you press and drag your tongue along the bottom.

“Shi- t.” Sevika’s broken curse slips past her lips without permission. But the moment she comes to- once you reach the very tip- she narrows her eyes at you threateningly.

You merely peer up at her with feigned innocence as you slide completely off, intentionally allowing a small dribble of precum to coat your bottom lip. With an exaggerated lick of your swollen, wet lips, you watch as her anger starts to ebb away. But just as you think you’ve soothed the savage beast, you feel pointed nails dig into each of your shoulders before she shoves you onto your back.

Your breath leaves your chest from the force of it, but Sevika leaves you no time to complain.

She shakes her head in disappointment. "Naughty little brat. You almost wasted my precious seed on that smartass mouth of yours." She starts to move back down your body, pressing her knees between your own to spread them.

“How would that have been a waste?” you ask as you prop yourself up on your forearms to watch her. “Are you telling me that even as a demonic god- even in my dreams- you can’t just make more quote-unquote seed?” You ask derisively.

Sevika freezes, her hands hovering just above your thighs. Her eyes slowly drift up until they meet yours. With an arched brow and a crooked smile, she sneers, “Do I need to use the tail again?” She brings the end of it into your view, flicking it back and forth for emphasis.

“Hey I’m just asking a very legitimate question,” you reply. You’re well aware that goading a demon is dangerous. But it’s Sevika. In a dream, you remind yourself again- a very wet dream. You know any punishment she dishes out will ultimately lead to your pleasure.

“Yeah? You sure you’re not just running your mouth because you want me to stuff it with something?” she asks as she lifts your thighs and spreads them wide. “Or maybe you’re looking to be put in your place in some other way?” Her lips curl into a devilish smirk.

“As I said earlier, that depends on what you have in mind,” you answer with a mischievous smile to match hers.

Sevika says nothing, merely continues to wear that lopsided grin as she settles between your legs. She leans over you, resting her metal hand against the mattress beside your head, her biological hand holding her hardened cock.

"This what you want?" She husks as she drags the head up through your wet slit. "You want me to fuck you with this?"

Not trusting your own voice as she rubs over your clit, you suck your bottom lip between your teeth and nod your head.

Amused by your sudden loss of words, Sevika chuckles lowly. Though she could easily drag the teasing on- figuratively and literally- she's craving a good fuck just as much as you are.

As she presses the tip just inside your entrance, you let yourself rest completely on your back. She eases in at such a slow speed it borders on torture. And when you try to lift your hips, she moves her hand to your waist to still you.

"I think you know what I'm going to say," Sevika warns.

Be patient.

You push your lower lip out in a pout, but Sevika simply lowers her head to press her lips to it. You wrap your arms around her back, fingers gripping at the muscles there as you pull her chest closer until her soft breasts touch yours. Her tongue traces over where your lips meet. Just as you eagerly grant her entrance, she closes that final distance, fully sheathing herself inside you.

The moan that rises from your chest is caught in your throat as Sevika's tongue plunges inside with the same wild intensity. It swirls around yours, withdrawing another muffled moan as you're struck with the lingering taste of your release.

Hooking your legs around her waist, you try to pull her in further, deeper, until you swear you feel the very tip. Every inch of her presses along your walls. It's sad if she was made just for you.

Sevika groans and pulls back from the kiss just far enough for your lips to barely touch. She gazes down at you with darkened eyes through eyelids heavy with need.

"You feel so fucking good wrapped around me. So tight," she husks, her lips grazing yours with every spoken syllable.

Good god does her praise sound so much sexier in that fiendishly deep voice of hers. It's enough to make your head spin. You close your eyes, wanting to focus on just the sound of her.

"I don't know why I didn't do this sooner," she adds, seemingly more to herself than you.

Ever so slowly, she starts to slide back out, sucking air through her teeth as you clench around her. Once only the tip remains precariously inside, she pauses.

Your toes curl in anticipation, body tensing as you wait for the imminent thrust of her hips. However, when seconds that feel more like an eternity pass without any motion or any sound, you slowly open your eyes.

Sevika stares down at you with wide hungry eyes and a villainous smile, showing off those dangerously sharp teeth.

"Sev-IKA" your whine becomes a startled cry as she snaps her hips and buries herself to the hilt. Her evil chuckle barely registers in the back of your mind through the pleasurable shock to your body.

Not giving you a moment of reprieve, she starts to fuck you at a slow, but steady pace.

Unsure if the speed she's selected is meant to please or tease, you quickly find yourself in need of more. The build-up of that warm, tight feeling is too slow. While she busies herself with licking her way down your jaw and neck, you let your heels drop back to the mattress, digging them in as you attempt to meet her every thrust with two of your own.

Without nearly the level of stamina she possesses- not to mention how your legs ache with each pleasurable drag of her hard cock against your walls- you quickly tire of the effort. And damn this cocky demonic woman currently controlling your future- you can feel her lips curl into an amused smirk from where they press against the swell of a breast. She knows it only makes you yearn for her more.

"Sevika," you whine breathlessly, "please."

"Please what?" Her question is muffled by her mouth skimming across your chest to taste the skin of your other breast.

"Fast-" You're cut off once again- and no doubt just as intentional- when you feel Sevika sink her pointed teeth into the swell of your breast.

"Fuck me!" You cry out, but the pain quickly subsides as she sucks and licks at the tiny marks left in her wake.

Behind your closed lids, you sense something above you. You open your eyes to find Sevika grinning down at you again, her breasts gently swaying over yours as she continues her torturous, yet sweetly slow cadence.

You give her your best puppy-dog eyes, pleading with her to have mercy on you. Then you attempt one more time to bargain with your demonic goddess.

"Please fuck me faster. I'll do anything."

Oh, now that seems to have caught her interest.

Sevika's brow raises in intrigue. "Anything?"

"Anything," you repeat with a nod.

"Deal."

Something tells you that you're likely to regret that later, but the moment she grabs the bottoms of your thighs and pushes them back against your chest, you couldn't care less. You're in for quite the ride.

She doesn't even bother gradually increasing her speed. The moment she gets you where she wants you she plants both hands beside your head and starts pummeling into you.

The sound of her thighs slapping against the back of yours mix with your wanton cries and moans, both of which nearly drown out her wild grunts.

You claw at her back, clinging to her as if your life depended on it. And with how mercilessly she drives that thick cock into your wet heat, it very well might.

Mind reeling from all the heavenly sensations, you nearly miss Sevika's grunted taunt.

"Look how much more well-behaved you are when I'm fucking- your- brains- out." She emphasizes the last four words with a grind of her hips each time she penetrates you, rubbing against your clit and leaving you near gasping as white light flashes behind your lids with each one.

"Still think this is a dream?" She jeers as she continues her onslaught, nearly pushing your body across the bed with the force. "Ever felt this fucking good in your dreams? Ever been so fucking wet?" Once again she adds emphasis, only this time it's with a powerful thrust that has a lewd squelching sound echoing through the dark room.

Just as she thought, you truly are too fucked out now. Her questions go in one ear and right out the other. All your focus is concentrated on gripping Sevika's back while she fucks you hard enough to cause the bed to shake and creak. And oh gods yes, you're quickly approaching that peak again.

"I asked you a question," Sevika growls.

That one you hear, but only because of the abrupt halt to your pleasure when she suddenly pulls out of you completely.

Not even given a chance to protest beyond the startled breathy cry that leaves your throat, you find yourself just as abruptly flipped over onto your hands and knees. Clawed hands- metal and organic- grip your waist as Sevika lines up and then slams back inside you.

From a combination of her sheer force and your weakened state, your front half collapses forward, face smashing against the mattress. You claw desperately at the bedding, trying to find purchase as Sevika continues to rail you from behind.

Between one of her rounds, she brings the palm of her flesh hand down against one of your asscheeks. Her sinister laughter rings through your ears, almost louder than the shriek that leaves your open mouth.

"Where's all that attitude now?"

Gone along with any and all cognitive abilities. Especially when you feel her hand rub soothing circles over your singing flesh. And even more so when she lightly scrapes those claws from the bottom of your spine straight up to the nape of your neck.

Your back arches in reflex to the sweet sensation that she leaves in her wake. Senseless words and curses fall from your slack mouth.

Sevika must be right. This can't possibly be a dream. Not when every part of your body is screaming with pleasure. Not when you feel so completely and delightfully filled by her.

She presses the palm of her hand against the exposed side of your face, pushing your head further into the mattress as she bends over you. She encapsulates you completely with her large body. Her sweat-slick breasts press against the curve of your spine as she fucks you impossibly deeper.

You're close. So fucking close. But you need something more. Just a little-

"Sevika," your voice comes out as nothing more than a hoarse whisper, apparently having been far more vocal than you realize. But thank the gods- or rather your demon girlfriend- she hears you.

She brings her mouth to your ear, her hot breath washing over you with each buck of her hips. "What do you want, kitten?"

"I- I need-" you struggle to form the words, absolutely drowning in pleasure, and she's apparently hell-bent on only making it harder.

She takes your earlobe between her teeth and gently tugs before whispering, "What was that? Use your words."

"More- I need more," you pant. "Please."

She hums against your ear as her tongue teases along the edge of it.

Just when you think you're going to have to beg more, you feel something slide between your sweaty bodies and around your waist.

Her tail.

The tip dips down over your abdomen, and as you realize its destination, you suck in a breath and hold it. All it takes is one slide over your throbbing, swollen clit to send you spiraling.

You sob pathetically as you're overtaken by earth-shattering pleasure for the second time tonight. Every muscle in your body spasms, including those surrounding Sevika's cock.

"Fuck," Sevika grits out through her teeth. "I'm going to cum." Her pace falters for a moment, but she's quick to recover. Lips pressed against your sweaty cheek, she husks, "Do you want me to fill you with my seed?"

Legs trembling, you're only held up by the grip of Sevika's metal hand on your waist as she continues to drive herself inside your soaked cunt. The lewd sound of it is lost on you though, as you just start to drift down from your high. And then her words replay in the back of your head.

Do you want me to fill you with my seed?

"Yes. Please," you whimper.

"Do you want to carry my half-breed spawn?" She huffs, and you can hear her losing steam, feel her hips stutter. She can't hold on much longer.

Dream or reality you don't fucking care anymore. You just want to feel her release inside you. You'd do anything for her, regardless of her being a goddamn demon.

"Please, Sevika."

"Say it."

"Breed me," you cry, overstimulation starting to set in under her continued assault.

That's all it takes. That, and one final deep thrust, then she's burying her face in your neck, groaning as thick cum flows from her cock.

You can feel all of it. It's inhumanly hot and vast, seeping out each time her body jerks. It spills out and down the insides of your thighs, all the way to the bedding at your knees.

After several weak thrusts, she finally stills. Though she doesn't go completely limp, you feel the weight of her press against your back, sweaty skin sticking to more sweaty skin. She moves her hand from the side of your head to rest against the mattress. You both take deep breaths in unison, and it's the only sound in the now otherwise silent abyss.

Sevika slips her arm around your waist when she feels your legs start to give way, finally depleted of all your remaining strength.

"Need to- lie down," you murmur between panting.

Despite having spent the entirety of the night with you being atrociously bratty, Sevika takes pity on you- or perhaps she's equally exhausted- and carefully pulls herself out before gently lying you on your back.

She hovers over you for a moment, straddling your limp body and watching your dazed expression. Several beads of sweat drip down the side of her face, then her neck before disappearing between her cleavage.

The rest becomes a bit of a blur as you drift in and out of conciseness. But you recall her wiping you off, cleaning you of both your fluids. And you remember moments of her kissing each of the marks she left on your skin. The scrapes and dotted cuts from her metal and demonic claws. The bright red indents decorating your skin where she bit you. And the raw skin where her hands or tail gripped and rubbed.

And the last thing you remember is her lying next to you, the tip of her tail gliding up and down the top of one of your thighs. Then she places a soft kiss on your forehead before whispering, "You did so well, my love."

Blinking several times, you slowly wake from your deep slumber. As your eyes come into focus in the dimly lit room, you realize you're sitting at your desk. Remembering your earlier escapades, you quickly sit up and glance around.

Your room, from what you can tell from the low glow of the desk lamp, is completely normal. All is as it was- or should be. Looking down at the desk you even find your drawing still sitting there.

So it really was a dream?

"You forgot the pointed tip," Sevika says from behind you.

You yelp, jumping in your seat much like you did earlier- or you thought you did.

"Shit, Sevika. Don't sneak up on me like that," you say groggily.

Wait- What did she just say?

"What pointed tip?" You ask suspiciously.

"On the tail," she whispers against your ear.

The hair on the back of your neck stands up and a shiver runs down your spine.

There's no way-

You peer down at your clothing. You're not in the t-shirt you remember putting on earlier that night. You're in a thin camisole, with a low cut that reveals the tops of your breasts. Including two very obvious rows of bite marks across one of them.

"Oh dear Janna," you murmur in shock.

Sevika tsks from behind you. Her voice drops lower, a familiar eerie echo ringing in your ear as she speaks in a sinister tone. “The only deity I want to hear you pray to is me. And you better start praying, because you promised me you’d do anything."

AN: If you haven't seen it yet, be sure to check out @sevikascrown's delicious fanart of demon Sevika here. 🥰

#arcane #sevika #arcane sevika #sevika x reader #arcane sevika x reader #fanfic #honey writes

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