#as punishment for a mistake he made which is to be revealed……. when I feel like it
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Our Girl – Part 4
Azriel x Cassian x fem reader angst
Summary: Deeming you unfit for a mission, the Inner Circle have betrayed your trust and shattered your life’s mission to avenge you sister. And the two males you love most were at the centre of it all.
Word count: 7.3k
Warnings: Smut [18+, minors DNI]
You stared at the gold invitation, cursive writing announcing Cresseida to be wed in a months time. And there was your name printed, Y/N and partners. You had scoffed when you first saw it – maybe in another life.
You were chewing your lip, lost in thought on whether to attend or not. You knew at the least, Rhys and Feyre would attend the wedding – that meant seeing them. And word would surely spread of your work at Spring Court once you got to chatting to other guests – that would reveal your location.
“Whats bothering you, young spark?” Finbark asked from the kitchen, busy chopping vegetables as a pot of stew boiled behind him. He looked up briefly, spotting the invitation in your hand. “Don’t tell me you’re thinking of not attending?”
“I don't want to risk what I have here.”
“Y/N, everything you’ve worked for is already yours. Your home here, your work, even your privacy, no one can take that away from you now, not even a High Lord or Lady.”
“I know, you’re right. It’s just… I've so enjoyed my little bubble away from everything that happened. Seeing them… they made me feel so small Fin, so helpless. I don't know if I can stand going through that again.”
“So much has happened since then. Look at all you’ve done, all you’ve accomplished. Thousands of fae, gods, even the entire damn court is mending thanks to you. You were never small, and you have proven that to yourself over and over again.”
A wobbly smile jerked at your lips, tears pricking in your eyes. He wiped his hands, leaving the vegetables to come cup your face, brushing away your tears.
“You cannot lock yourself in Spring Court forever, sweetheart. Don't punish yourself for their mistakes, expand your horizons, celebrate with friends that are equally yours as they are theirs. And celebrate yourself, you deserve that even more.”
You reached for your uncle’s rippled hand, holding it tight. “Thank you, Finbark. You mean the world to me.”
“And you me, young spark.”
So it was decided. You would attend the wedding, without any partners.
————
“Where are we going?” you called from Podie, Tamlin a few paces ahead on his own horse. He was leading you through a trail you weren't familiar with.
“For the umpteenth time Y/N, it’s a surprise.” He called back without turning his head.
You let out an audible sigh, to which Tamlin chuckled. You did your best not to admire his ass as he straddled a horse – it helped neither of you how handsome Tamlin looked in his riding clothes. You pressed your heels to Podie, coming to trot beside him.
“You should know I hate surprises,” you sang.
“Even the good kind? What a shame,” Tamlin responded, clearly not letting up on where he was taking you. You poked your tongue out, earning another chuckle.
It had been several months since your first dinner with Tamlin, and you had fallen into a comfortable pattern with the High Lord. You enjoyed a regular drink or meal together when your work crossed paths, and he had even consulted you on advice for his court, which flattered you. His company was a consistent pleasure, and you treasured the friendship you had formed – the Gods knew you needed it.
You managed to bite your tongue for another twenty minutes, and just as you were about to pester him again, Tamlin spoke. “It’s just up this trail.”
Pulling the reins of his horse, Tamlin led you down a steep path, hidden much by overhanging trees and bushes, only to reveal a clearing.
No, not a clearing – a field, blossoming with rows of carefully planted pink flowers. And as you got closer, the size of the field was revealed, bordered by a low wooden fence. It was… a farm?
You drew in an audible breath as the scent of the flowers hit you. You widened your eyes at Tamlin, who was grinning at your shock. You dismounted Podie quickly, rushing to brace the fence as you took in the site with awe.
“Wild Gernaium?” you choked, your eyes still wide.
“The healing flower,” Tamlin nodded. “It took a while to learn how to farm them, months in fact, but Spring has Prythians best botanists.”
“And here I thought they could only grow in the wild,” you shook your head with disbelief. “Tamlin, these are so rare, how on earth you were able to farm this many?”
“Spring Court is a land that gives back, the soil here is rich of nutrients and the weather forgiving. It is of course only something we were able to do, thanks to your mission work to help recover the land. This is your accomplishment as much as it is theirs.”
Tears pricked in your eyes then. The amount of fae that could be helped with this crop – it was an overwhelming thought.
“And they are for you, of course.”
You gaped at the High Lord, who laughed again.
“For me?”
“Of course, for your work. Whatever you need – farmers to pick the flowers, a factory full of workers to grind and bottle the pigment – say the word and it’s yours.”
“Tamlin, I… I don’t know how to thank you.”
“Please, don’t. It’s not a thanks I deserve, I’m just… trying to look out for my people. Just as you do.”
“Well… you’ve done a Gods damned good job,” you said with raised brows, blowing out a loose breath at the extend of the farm.
Tamlin threw his head back and laughed, and you grinned at his happiness. You reached for his hand, giving it a squeeze. “Nice work, High Lord.”
Tamlin squeezed your hand back. “It wouldn't be without you.”
He pulled on your hand then, leading you through the flowers as you admired the plants up close. He explained that a factory could be built at the farms edge, attached with a pressing mill and grinders. Your heart fluttered with excitement, your work could extend past manual labour, you could now offer medicine and healing. There was a force brewing inside you, something unstoppable and good, something that lay dormant for centuries, finally unleashed and free.
You still held Tamlin’s hand as he lead you through the field, making your way to a lush hill that overlooked the farm. You sat together, Tamlin listening contently as you excitedly spoke through your ideas on how to harvest the medicine, noting that your small growing team of mission workers could also help to distribute throughout the court.
“How many aid workers have you recruited now?” Tamlin asked.
“Seven, and we’re currently inducting Nyvya in the east. She’s a trained healer, so will be delighted to hear of the Gernaium.”
“That’s wonderful,” he smiled.
“It is,” you said warmly, and it occurred to you that you owed Tamlin a truth. An idea you were planning to run by him at a much later time. But with the offer of the Gernaium, the access to this kind of healing, that changed things. “It is,” you repeated almost flatly, chewing at your lip as your eyes fell distant, dancing with thought.
Tamlin caught the movement, and he frowned slightly as he shifted from his lounging position. “What is it?”
Your heart rose in anticipation – you felt sheepish. So you stared at him, deciding on whether it was in fact the right time.
“You can say it – whatever it is,” he said gently, taking your hand. Your silence lead him to start guessing. “Are you leaving Spring?”
“No, no I–”
“Because you are free to come and go as you please. I know my past behaviour speaks for itself, but I would hate to think that you feel trapped or–”
You grabbed his shoulders then, squeezing the muscle underneath. “Tamlin, gods I know that.”
The action seemed to stun him, and his lips pressed into a thin line. You felt a slight twang of guilt for drawing out such a distinct shame in him.
You took a deep breath, pulling your hands to your lap. “With the mission work expanding, along with my team, we have been able to help fae at the borders, some from Summer, even a few from Autumn.”
Tamlin nodded assuringly, a sign for you to continue. He didn't startle over the technicality of Spring members helping foreign fae – that was a good sign.
“And it felt good to help them Tam, they were isolated, and just as vulnerable as some of those in Spring.”
“Of course,” he said softly.
You had to take a deep breath, and your eyes found the horizon beyond the rolling hills around you.
“You know,” you spoke softly. “My ambitions to help and protect others, it has always existed beyond court borders.”
You could see Tamlin shift, before giving a slow nod.
“After talking with my team, we believe our mission work could gain traction in other courts, should they be willing. We could share knowledge, resources too if it was agreed, and provide aid across Prythian without being conformed to borders.”
You forced your eyes to Tamlin then, grimacing at what you might find written on his face. But it was just as neutral, his eyes soft, his jaw chiselled and handsome and – damn him.
“This is not the way I wanted to propose this to you Tamlin, please know. Especially after your generosity with the Gernaium, I understand completely if you have grown them purely to aid your own subjects. But that doesn't stop the need for mission work across Prythian. I plan to gain the support from as many High Lords and Ladies as possible, and I would be honoured if that started with you.”
Tamlin eyed you with those sharp green eyes, the kind of look that made you shift under the weight of it. And after an insufferable silence, he spoke.
“You are incredible.”
You blinked in shock, Tamlin’s lips pulling at your reaction.
“Truly,” he smiled, grabbing your hand to kiss it. “I have never met anyone who was to see a need as great as this, and think to grow it beyond borders. Magic anchors a High Lord or Lady to their Court, it makes us territorial and protective, violent even. But you, this,” he said waving his hand to you, before sighing, contemplating how to say what he felt in words. “You are what this world needs.”
Your eyes welled before two fat tears rolled down your cheeks. “Tamlin,” you chocked, unable to think of anything else to say.
He shifted closer, brushing the tears away with his thumb as he cupped your face. “You have my support Y/N. Thank you for teaching me to be better.”
Emotion surged through you, as if flushing you from years of doubt and hate, replaced now with inspiration, kindness and good, honest love. And then your lips were on his.
Taken aback, Tamlin caught himself on one strong arm as you held his face and kissed him. You pulled away, worried to have overstepped your boundaries. But then a strong hand laced around your waist, his other propping himself up as he leaned in, closing his mouth over yours, a sharp breath drawn as his nose brushed against your. Friendship, understanding, a blossoming love – how quickly Tamlin had welcomed you to a world capable of healing, of growth.
Every fibre in your limbs begged to be closer to him, to bask in the vulnerability he had shown you, and you him. In only half a year, you had grown together, healed together, and learned to love one another. You did, you loved him, for whatever he was to you – a dear friend, a High Lord, it didn't matter. It was equal, and genuine, and you craved it in every way.
Fuelled in by dizzy passion, you quickly straddled his lap, pulling at his broad shoulders to bring him further into you, letting him encompass your senses.
Tamlin’s own hands slid across your back, moving up to your neck, gripping at the roots of your hair, the other grasped at the flesh where your thighs met your hips.
He seemed to realise where this was heading, pulling away with a sharp breath through his nose. “Y/N–”
You shook your head, dismissing him immediately with another kiss, your tongue begging for entrance to his mouth. “Tamlin.” His name was a plea.
“Are you cer–?”
You didn’t give him a chance to finish his question, peppering kissed in between words. “I’ve–never–been–more–certain.”
A low growl rumbled from his chest, and goosebumps pricked at your skin as you felt it vibrate through to you. Your excitement peaked, it had been so long since you had shared yourself with another, and your core fluttered with anticipation as every fragment of you seemed to chant yes, yes, yes.
Which is exactly what you moaned as Tamlin entered you, your skirts pulled high, his riding pants pulled low. You placed a flat palm on his chest, your eyes clenched shut as you stretched around his girth, your walls already throbbing as you slowly slid down. Tamlin let out a stifled growl, one laced with satisfaction and a lot of restraint.
Strong arms hugged you then, and you began to writhe together, moving gently and sensually as you ground against each other. Chasing release was far beyond you, there was so much pleasure to be had in sharing your bodies, relishing in the trust you both had found in one another.
Tamlin did his best to keep a leash if his instincts, his beast form begging to be released and he grunted and growled when you moved your hips in a certain way, nipping at your neck and ear as claws now ran down your back. You ran your fingers through his hair, using it to guide his face to yours as you kissed him and fucked him how you pleased. His own hands moved to grip at your ass to do the same.
“Y/N,” he breathed, his deep voice breaking, strained with pleasure.
“Tamlin, gods, you feel–”
“So. Good,” he gritted, finishing your sentence. You leaned back, head thrown back as your hands found balance on his thighs as you rode him in the warm spring air.
Pleasure found both of you again and again in that afternoon. You climaxed on his lap, and not twenty minutes later he was pushing into you again, your bare thighs spread on the lush green grass as he moved above you. You clung together, a writhing, sweaty mix of passion and pleasure until the sun began to set over the rolling hills.
Tamlin reached for you, his fingers lacing with yours as you ate the last of the berries he had packed. He kissed your forehead before turning you to rest against his chest, not wanting you to miss the view.
“Tell me what you’re thinking,” he murmured into your hair.
Stroking his arms that were tightly wrapped at your waist, you swallowed, debating on what to say. But no, Tamlin deserved the truth, you must always choose truth. You sighed , saddened by what was churning through your head after such incredible sex.
“I’m thinking we need to discuss what this afternoon means.”
You loved him, you did, but Tamlin was bound to his court, and your life called beyond it. It wouldn't work, no matter how much you cared for each other.
Tamlin knew this too. “What if,” he spoke softly, brushing your hair away from your neck so he could place a gentle kiss on it. “What if we enjoy this moment for what it is, just for today.”
You smiled, kissing his hands. “Tomorrow then.”
“Plenty of problems await,” he joked, and you laughed before settling further into him. You smiled cockily as you felt him harden against you. Tomorrow indeed.
————
One month later
Peering from the carriage window, your heart thundered in your ears, drowning out the clap of horses hooves as guests arrived at the summer estate, music floating gently from within.
Dawned in all colours, you watched guests gasp in awe at the beauty of the building. This was one of many of Tarquin’s estates - one you had never visited. It was an open, grecian style home, golden columns holding the impressive entrance carved with shimmering vines. Fae flocked in groups, sparkling wine already in their hands as they made their way to the gardens, no doubt where the service was being held.
“Are you alright?” Tamlin asked, the velvet of his deep green suit brushing against your bare arm.
“Uneasy to say the least,” you said thickly, your tongue stiff with nerves. “And you?”
Tamlin looked beyond the window, eyeing each of the guests. “One step at a time,” was his response as he squeezed your knee.
————
The curtesy wine offered to you at the entrance was gone within the first few moments of arriving. You wouldn't make a fool of yourself here, but a little wine to take the edge off couldn't hurt.
Tarquin stood proudly, wearing a fine turquoise suit detailed with gold thread, shaking hands as he welcomed guests.
“Y/N,” he beamed, taking your hands and kissing each of your cheeks. “I’m honoured you came.”
“The pleasure is mine, Tarquin. Thank you for having me.”
“Nonsense, both Creseida and I might have forced you here if you had not come willingly.”
You laughed freely. “How is she?”
“A wreck of nerves,” he chuckled.
“I’m sure she looks beautiful,” you laughed lightly back.
“She does, just as you do,” he winked, raising your hands he still held to take in your dress. A silken, soft blue dress fell of your body, its back open as material gathered just before your rear. The dressmaker had done an incredible job, fitting style and colour alike. You had politely declined her suggestions of a sage green, a Spring Court signature. It was kind, but you were courtless for over a year now, and proud of it. Instead, you had asked for sky blue – as no one ruled the skies.
Blushing, you let out another soft laugh. “You are too kind, High Lord.”
Tarquins eyes flashed behind you, catching Tamlin as he spoke with some familiars a few paces away. “Have you…?” he questioned, trailing off.
You smiled knowingly. “I’ve come alone. Tamlin and I shared a carriage, journeying from the same court. You remember of my work there?”
“Remember? Sweetheart, there is talk of your mission throughout my court. There are guests here who are very keen to meet you. And we will need to formally discuss your work, and give a proper thanks to the aid you have provided at the border.”
You were smiling wide now, shaking your head with gratitude. “I would like that too, but perhaps not here.”
Tarquin grinned. “No, perhaps not. Welcome, sweet Y/N, please enjoy the festivities, and accomodation.”
You smiled politely as Tamlin approached, exchanging a firm handshake before raising his brows at you. “Shall we head in?”
Nodding tightly, you let Tamlin guide you with a hand at the small of your back. At the very least, the warmth of his skin against yours was a small comfort.
The estate was even more impressive the further you ventured, white marble and golden staircases twisting this way and that, leading to corridors of rooms, each door carved to perfection. These were the guest accomodations, and included your own for the evening.
But the jewel of the home was its view, where a perfectly groomed garden now catered to almost a thousand fae, overlooking the crystal blue Adriatic, the waves beneath crashing the cliff quieted by the string quartet. It was an overwhelming beautiful home, and you were glad to be lost in a sea of guests.
A golden arch was set at the end of a the aisle, a High Priestess exchanging words with a groom you did not recognise. But you smiled – you were happy for Creseida.
“An impressive turnout,” Tamlin muttered, sipping his wine as his green eyes turned sharp, scanning the crowd. You ignored the glances being cast your way, whether it was from your attendance with Tamlin, or Tamlin’s presence alone, you didn't care. What did these fools know of either of your stories to judge.
And you tried not to look, to not let your heart beat fast as you scoured for a rare set of wings amongst the finery of the wedding, telling yourself you wouldn’t turn your heel and run at the site of any siphons or shadows or night. But you were thankful to not find any.
That was, until you felt them. Muscles jerking, goosebumps pricked your skin as your power began to tingle sharply, spreading across your body like a rash. Shit – you hadn't anticipated to lose your lid in such a way, your power had been so forgiving this past year.
A small gap parted in the crowd of guests at the stairs of the estate, and the High Lord and Lady of the Night Court were revealed. Arms loop, night curling around them in the fashion that impressed and threatened all at once. Rhysand shook hands with a nearby male, Feyre kissing the cheeks of a curtsying female.
It shocked you, how quickly your spy instincts found you. As if in one of your many life-threatening missions, your senses narrowed, the noise in your brain focusing to immediate details – taking in only what you needed to survive, just as Azriel and Cassian had trained you. Your vision barrelled to the couple who still greeted others some distance away. Scanning behind them, you anticipated the remainder of your old family, and of course, your exes.
Yet no one followed. Not even Mor. It seemed the High Lord and Lady had attended alone. It was strange – had things turned bad at the Court, that even the Morrigan had forgone a wedding?
Rhysand wore a handsome smile as he guided Feyre down the stairs to the garden, guests parting even further, bowing as they strode through. They were getting closer, and you ignored the clench of your heart as their scent filled your nose, before mixing with others. It was the smell of home.
No. it wasn't home. Not anymore, and not for a good while now. You hated that instinct, to curl into it, to let it welcome you, claiming you still.
You glanced behind, conscious that they would find you standing with Tamlin. But he was no where to be seen, and you thanked him silently for the courtesy of having stepped away.
Rhysand and Feyre glided closer and closer, exchanging nods and accepting bows. And then they halted, violet eyes scanning before locking to yours, grey eyes shortly followed. And Rhys’s smile, the one that he used in the face of the public, it softened, his eyebrows twitching upwards almost unnoticeably.
Feyre’s hand gripping at his arm tighter, and you could hear her heart fasten from where you stood. You almost resented how in-tune you were to them, these micro-behaviours.
Glancing between them both, you followed the order of those next to you, lowering yourself to a polite curtsy.
They couldn't reach you, not without drawing attention, not without the watchful eyes of hundreds of guests. So with a nod from Rhys, and a soft smile from Feyre, they continued on, finding their seats in the queues.
————
Cresseida was the most beautiful bride you had ever seen. Golden vines were cuffed along her arms, as a silk gown as white as her hair trailed behind her as she walked the aisle, Tarquin proudly at her side.
You smiled through your tears as she was married. You were happy for her– you were happy –you were… An unmarketable emotion filled you as you couldn’t help the run of tears that continued to pour, even after the ceremony ended.
————
“And is it true that you were able to help the children at the border?” questioned one of Tarquin’s emissaries as she leaned in, raising her voice over the music.
The party was in full swing, food had been served and hundreds of fae drank and danced, celebrating Creseida’s courtship, each of them eager to get even a glimpse at the bride and groom.
“Yes, we were lucky to have an experienced healer join the mission, and she was already aiding some of the fae in Spring.”
The female smiled, and squeezed your arm. “On behalf of my court, we are grateful.”
“Not at all,” you smiled back. “Your authorities were notified, and from what I heard your own healers were already on their way. We were simply closer to that area, and had supplies to spare.”
It had been hours, and your company was still in high demand as endless Summer Court members were eager to meet you. Tarquin, it seemed, had been spreading you just as much praise as Tamlin. You had danced with many, exchanging jokes and stories, enjoying the festivities with some familiar faces and many new ones.
It was a struggle to keep your eyes from averting, your instinct to find Rhys and Feyre in the crowd was loud and stubborn. Old habits, you supposed.
Tamlin approached you then, having made himself scarce from your company for most of the evening, something you both had agreed to do. But you were comforted by his presence as he easily slid into the conversation, slipping a glass of fae wine into your hand without even asking. You smiled, giving his shoulder a thankful squeeze.
There was an itchy, uneasy feeling that tugged at you, and you knew you were under watchful eyes. You found them, surrounded by their own acquaintances, and while Rhys masked his curiosity perfectly, Feyre’s stare bored into you from across the dance floor.
Taking a large sip of wine, you let it warm you as you squared your shoulders. You would not cower, you would not shy away. And now was a better time than any.
So you strode directly to them, Feyre’s stare softening as Rhys pardoned himself from his conversation. Then, they were walking towards you to.
You stopped a few paces shy from each other. Staring. It was…. awkward.
But then Rhysand smiled. Warm and genuine and familiar. You hoped he didn't hear your silent curse to him.
“You look well,” he said.
You nodded, acknowledging the half-compliment, sensing their relief. No, you weren't that broken withered girl you were when you left.
“How is Nyx?” The words flew from your mouth before you could stop them. You would have been more annoyed at yourself, but your care for that child was pure, and you knew they would never withhold him as currency.
“He’s well, growing every day,” Feyre replied. “And walking all on his own.”
Your smile, be it small, was sincere.
“He still… asks about you,” she added.
Pain sliced through your heart then, and you weren't quick enough to hide it in your face. “Don’t,” you whispered, your voice strained. Gods, that didn't take long.
“I’m sorry,” Feyre said quickly, hands reaching out before she quickly drew them back in. “I didn't mean–“ she cut herself short, shaking her head. “I’m sorry.”
You cast your eyes to the side, blinking away the sting of tears. “It’s alright.”
Rhysand watched you intently. “Perhaps we can all use some fresh air? I spotted a terrace, free from other guests.”
The choice was yours, you knew that. You had things you wanted to say, and you were sure they did to. You nodded, following their lead as you quickly cast a look backwards, Tamlin offering you a tight nod as you left the room.
————
“So, mission work in Spring?” Rhys asked, wine swirling in his hand as he leaned casually against a column, warm summer breeze surrounding the three of you as the party continued faintly below.
You nodded, your arms crossed at your chest.
“It’s very impressive,” Feyre added from where she sat, offering a genuine smile.
You didn't respond, unsure of how much detail to reveal. Rhysand caught on, sighing slightly.
“We didn't bring you here to interrogate you for detail, It’s only that your work and whereabouts is quickly becoming widespread knowledge. We thought it was best to acknowledge that we know it too.”
“And what of Cassian and Azriel?”
“We have held true to our bargain on that.” You believed him.
There was an award silence, unasked questions looming.
“Are you safe there?” Feyre asked quietly.
“Very much so.”
“And Tamlin is–”
“A friend,” you said quickly.
“– respectful to you, was what I was going to ask,” Feyre said with a knowing look.
You sighed then, running a hand through your hair. “I didn't do it to hurt you,” you said, with a straight face. You owed her no allegiance, but, you were done hurting others, and her concern did no one any good.
“I know,” Feyre acknowledged, with the grace of a High Lady, of someone who knew that the past was the past. She shook her head then, before adding. “We worry for you, that is all.”
“He’s changed.” You were shocked at how quickly those words left your mouth.
It was Rhys who threw you a condescending look. You hated how small it made you feel.
“Look, I appreciate your warning, but Tamlin has shown strides of growth, he has acknowledged his mistakes and is working endlessly to undo them. When was the last time you looked within yourselves?”
Rhys flashed his eyes at you with warning, bringing an arm to comfort his wife. “Careful,” he said plainly, but a flash of darkness passed through those violet eyes.
Damn him. And damn Feyre too. “You didn’t so much as try to stop them,” you breathed, your eyes welling with tears as you focused on her. Gods damn it – you thought you were past this, past them. But it was as if a year away meant nothing, you were just as hurt as that night you left the Night Court. Feyre watched with a pain expression as your lip wobbled. “And you didn't so much as try to apologise,” you whispered, your voice moments away from breaking.
Feyre’s eyes now glistened with the same tears. “You shut us out,” she countered, and you could see how much your own choices had wounded her.
“What choice did I have?” you asked, brushing away a stray tear. “You think I want to be this way? You think I wanted to cast myself out? You broke my trust and lied to me, alienating me from this family. And I was supposed to come to you for an apology?”
Feyre gulped guiltily, looking at the floor. Rhys watched you intensely, a concerned frown on his face.
“You’re right,” Feyre said quietly, grey eyes now finding yours. “But you must know Y/N, I am sorry. I’ve been sorry since the day it happened. I thought it wise for Azriel and Cassian to want to protect you, but I realised very quickly how it was that kind of thinking that trapped me within warded walls, and that had me fleeing my home all those years ago.”
You nodded, casting your eyes upwards to not let the tears stain your face yet again. “We can't keep doing this.”
“What’s that?” Rhys asked gently.
“This,” you gulped, waving your hands between you. “These sorry confessions and apologies, it hurts us all.”
“Alright,” Rhys said neutrally. “But you acknowledge our apology?’
“Yes.”
“Do you forgive us?”
Your lips pressed tight as you grimaced.
“That would be a no,” Rhys said sadly, his smile broken. Feyre couldn't force one if she wanted to.
“I want us to move forward,” you offered instead. “There is no use in resentment. It may be that we’ll continue to cross paths, and it is important to me that you know I will not respond illy.”
“Of course,” Feyre nodded, smiling.
A sharp pain throbbed at your temples then, the kind that came about when you had to keep your emotions and powers under tight strain. It was instinct to rub at your temples.
“Can I heal that for you?” Rhys was now standing in front of you, his smile remained but his eyes – heavy, saddened.
You blinked up at him before flicking your eyes to Feyre who waited eagerly for you to respond. Was this a test? Could it be, after all that had happened, you could consider them just…friends? You searched within yourself for the right answer, but nothing came about. It was just too soon.
But there was no harm in letting Rhys work some of his magic. “Alright,” you replied, and you heard Feyre loose a breath.
Rhysand’s hands cupped the side of your face, his fingers pressing to your temples as the familiar feeling of him slipping into your mind sent a shiver down your spine. There was something in you, something impossible to kill that was comforted by his touch. He was, after all, your High Lord of decades. He had been your home, your family, and maybe there was some part of that would always remain. It upset you how much you had to resist the urge to wrap your arms around his waist, to pull Feyre in too, to sob of how much you missed home, your family, how much you ached while you were apart.
It was over as quickly as it began, Rhys slipping from your mind, leaving no trace of a headache behind. You hadn't clocked that you had closed your eyes, your lip quivering as your cheeks were now wet with tears. Rhys kept his hands on your face, brushing them away.
“Y/N–,” he said softly, his face pained. You knew what he would say – come home, even if you hate us, come home. But you wouldn't give him a chance.
“T-thank you,” you stammered, pulling away from Rhysand’s hold and fleeing the terrace, leaving the two to their shock.
————
You were brushing away hot, fast tears as you fled the wedding, racing towards your guest room.
Gods, what was wrong with you today? You hated feeling like this – an unstable, blubbering mess. Nothing had changed in a year, not really. You were still the same, broken and alone. It hurt just as much to see your family now.
To hell with this wedding. You craved a sleep tonic and to be rid of this night. That was when Tamlin fell into side-step with you.
“Are you hurt?” he asked simply, muttering the words to avoid drawing attention as you passed through the crowd.
“No,” you managed to say, and you could have kissed him for playing into the nonchalance. He seemed to respect privacy, even when there was little to be found.
“I’ll walk you to your rooms.”
“No, Tam, I’m fine, you should–”
“Nonsense,” he replied, and you knew you wouldn't shake him. So you walked to your room, sniffing through your tears as you tried to calm the current brewing at your fingertips, Tamlin by your side.
You reached your quarters, a private corner in a long corridor or rooms. The door was carved in unique artwork, familiar somehow, as if beckoning you to enter from within.
“If you’re sure you’re alright,” he said with an unconvinced look.
“I will be, Tam, thank you.”
You gave his hand a quick squeeze, before turning the handle to the door.
And made it two paces in, before shadows filled your vision.
————
You swore as strong hands held your shoulders, blue siphons a blur as shadows cast around you. You fought on instinct, but it was impossible to shake Azriel’s grip.
“What in Mothers name–?!” you cursed again.
“You’re safe,” Azriel spoke with relief. Despite yourself, your skin ignited at the husk of his voice.
“Get your damn hands off me,” you gritted, taking in the room as the smog of shadows finally cleared.
Cassian was between you and the door, where Tamlin still stood, completely stunned. The General’s hands quickly curled into fists.
No one moved, each of you just as shocked to see the other. They had come for you, yes, but you were certain Tamlin was an unpleasant surprise.
“Fuck,” you ground out, almost rolling your eyes as you knew the strife that now awaited your friend.
Azriel moved you behind him, as if you needed to be shielded, protected. “What are you doing here, traitor?”
“Let her go at once,” Tamlin growled, stepping into the room.
You stepped out from behind Azriel, your mind reeling at the sight of the two Illyrians in you room. You hated them, but something in you churned - a yearning. It was easy to stamp down as a rage took over.
“What are you doing here?” you countered.
Azriel gave you a piercing look, running his eyes down your body. There was love in that look, but a sternness too.
“Answer me,” you ground out.
Cassian was still facing Tamlin, his siphons so bright they radiated heat. “Did you hurt her?” he growled at Tamlin, a shaking rage consuming him.
“You hunted me? Like a mare?” your voice was ice cold, colder than any of these males could ever hope to perfect. Your trust, betrayed, again.
That voice snared their attention. Cassian casting a look back at you, desperate, like he wanted to give you all of his time, to never stop drinking in the sight of you.
You prowled closer, fingers twitching as your power grew so strong zapping could be heard. “Rhys’s promise to me, the bargain. You broke it,” you spat.
“Y/N.” Cassian said your name, begging you. His pain cut through to you, your power dampening as a sick, sick part of you folded at his plea. Go to him, that part of you begged.
The room was filled with a sharp coldness and breeze as Rhys and Feyre winnowed into your quarters, Feyre’s face one of shock, Rhys’s one of fury.
“What in Gods name are you doing here?” he growled at his brothers.
“You left us no choice,” Azriel seethed back at Rhys, his wing stopping you as you silently moved to join Tamlin.
You glared at him. “Try that again,” you growled.
Azriel’s eyes were dark, predatory, but his brows pulled with a softness only reserved for you. “I do not trust him.”
“And I do not trust you,” you spat back.
“The promise,” Rhys growled, glaring between his brothers.
“Y/N, we had no idea they had come,” Feyre spoke with a desperation that you had to believe her.
“Leave. Now.” Rhys ordered, but the males ignored him, his power underwhelming in another court.
Cassian’s brow pulled, his face truly broken as he spoke to you. “You left us. And joined him?”
You snapped at the accusation. “I joined no one, because I belong to no one. I pursued a life beyond you, and I am a free female. Free to roam wherever I please, and fuck whoever I want.”
You words landed their mark, because both Azriel and Cassian recoiled.
And then Cassian’s face turned grave, as he slowly faced Tamlin again. “You-you touched her?”
You cursed yourself for the pointed insult – you should have known it would put Tamlin in the firing line. To his defense, Tamlin held a high chin.
“She is a free female. Nor you or I can rob her of that.”
Azriel snarled, and Cassian was on Tamlin in an instant.
“Stop that! Get off him! You will not hurt him!” you cried, broken at the thought of Tamlin being hurt because of you.
But before you could throw yourself at Cassian, night magic filled the space, pulling the males apart, commanding the room to its master. And you were surprised to see Feyre walking towards them, her palms outstretched, night pouring from her as her eyes now glowed with silver.
“Sensless violence ends now, I don’t care about the circumstance.”
What did she mean by that?
“Leave,” Cassian snarled at Tamlin, but Tamlin held his ground.
“He is welcomed to stay so long as Y/N sees fit,” Feyre spoke coldly, forcing Cassian’s eyes back to her. Now that, was a High Lady. “I can not believe you two–“
“You weren't invited?” you interjected, untrusting of your exes as you scowled between them.
Rhys shook his head from across the room. “We went as far to hide the papers.”
You gulped as you stared up at Azriel. “Pray tell, how you found me, then?”
Azriel wore no remorse as he said “Amren – she possessed an invite and–”
Exasperated sounds from each of you filled the room. Amren, of course. She was the only one to know to play games above Rhys and Feyre’s head, and cunning enough to pull it off.
“And what is your plan, then?” you added coldly. “Drag me back to the Night Court, kicking and screaming?”
“No, of course not,” Cassian responded softly, stepping towards you, stopping as you retreated back. “We had to know that you were safe.”
You stared at him, the sorrow in his voice, the bags under his eyes and the way his shoulders sagged. He was broken.
“You were not well when you left, Y/N. It’s been killing us not knowing how you are faring now,” Azriel added, his eyes soft, looking just as worn as his brother. You knew he sang silently to his shadows as they coiled in on themself, they would be begging to reach you.
“Please, don't be angry,” Cassian begged, his eyes welling. “We’ll go, we’ll go now, it’s just–”
“We love you. We- we need you,” Azriel interjected, his own brow clenched with pain.
Each of their words were a dagger to your heart, piercing it’s way through the walls you had built.
“Stop that,” you whispered, your hand pressing against your chest to ease the pain. Were these your feelings, or theirs?
“It’s true,” Cassian continued. “You’re our girl. We'll do better, Y/N, we promise. Please.”
It was painful to hear, and you faltered slightly as your body jerked in pain. Something was breaking within you, crumpling around something else, something buried deep.
“Please Y/N, come home.”
Your knees gave out as you let out an anguished cry, your heart tearing and swelling to the point where you thought you just might die.
“Y/N!” Tamlin called in panic, but Azriel and Cassian were already at your sides, holding you, asking where it hurt.
Palms braced on the floor, you tried to breath through laboured breaths as you finally felt what was concealed for so long. It was unmistakable, a tether of sun-lit rope, tying you to the males at either side of you. You felt it all – their fear, the instincts to take you far from this place, their overwhelming, unconditional love.
And you hated it.
“No,” you gasped, your hand finding your heart as you tried to calm its pounding.
Azriel glanced at Cassian, who gave a single nod in confirmation. Feyre gasped from where she stood.
“What is it?” Tamlin panicked. “What’s going on?”
“No!” you repeated, standing quickly and backing away from the two males. It couldn't be – you were free, you had left…
They watched you with saddened eyes at the horror that beheld you.
“The Mother is cruel,” Rhys tutted, lowering his head in sympathy.
“What in the gods-forsaken realms is going on?” Tamlin yelled.
“No, no, no, no! Please, no!” You clutched at the roots of your hair, your mind reeling as you begged to no one. You were bound to them, whether you liked it or not. An enslavement of kinds.
“It snapped,” Feyre answered to Tamlin without ever turning his way.
It was too much to bare – their instincts, your newly ignited ones, their love, your hate. Your brain scrambled for sense, fighting itself over and over as you shook at your knees.
A final ‘no’ pushed past your lips before your body gave out, the world tipping and your vision darkening as strong hands caught you.
You succumbed to the gods damned mating bond.
-------
Part 5>>>
AN: Helllllllllo my lovelies! I am so so bloody excited to share this part with you! It was a rollercoaster to write, hope you held on tight for this angst-train!
Always, always, ALWAYS want to hear your thoughts and feelings on where this story is heading, so please drop a comment anytime.
And thank you endlessly for your support with this fic - it means the world. MWA!!
#acotar fem reader#acotar series#cazriel series#azriel x reader#cassian x reader#azriel x cassian x you#azriel angst#cassian angst#cazriel x you#cazriel x fem reader#tamlin x reader#acotar angst#rhysand x reader#feyre x reader#tamlin redemption#cazriel angst#cassian x azriel x y/n#acotarfanfic#sarah j maas#acotar fanfic#mating bond#cazriel x mating bond#azriel x cassian x y/n#azriel x cassian angst#acotar smut
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²⁴.⍭ 𝐖𝐡𝐲 𝐀𝐫𝐞 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐒𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐝?
𝗣𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴 | Stepbrother!Curtis Everett x innocent!reader
𝗪𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 | STEPCEST, college au, virgin!reader, size difference, SMUT - minors DNI, daddy kink, somnophilia, oral (f), p*ssy spanking, dirty talk, elements of p*ssy worship, innocence/corruption kink, beard burn, overstimulation, degradation, dumbification, dacryphilia, squirting, the puffier the better.
𝗦𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆 | Curtis has always protected you, and after a horror movie marathon, it’s no surprise you seek comfort in his bed.
𝗪/𝗖 | 6.14K
𝗔/𝗡 | as we reach the end of our smutty october, here is dirty train daddy Curtis. No gifs/photos belong to me, check the Pinterest board on my kinktober masterlist, all credits go to the original creators. All mistakes are my own. [concept asks | fic asks]
˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ 𝐅𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰 & 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧 𝐨𝐧 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲: @𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐲𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲
˗ˏˋ𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟐 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭ˎˊ˗ ⋰˚ 𝐂.𝐄. & 𝐂𝐨. 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭
Curtis hears you before he sees you. The hallway light switches on before your shadow appears at the bottom of his door. It opens silently, revealing you bundled in a sweater and a pair of fuzzy socks, dragging a blanket and your favourite stuffed animal.
“C-Curtis?”
“What’s wrong?”
“Can I stay with you?”
Curtis glances at the clock on his nightstand, it’s almost midnight, and those red glowing numbers tell him just how long he’s been glued to his computer and how long your parents have been at that Halloween party. “It’s too late, you should go to bed.”
“I can’t!” You squeaked, “You can keep playing your game and I’ll be super quiet, it’ll be like I’m not even there.” You beg, shivering as the downstairs darkness stares back at you.
Your mind goes wild, forming shapes in the black abyss. Monsters with sharp claws and red eyes, or abnormally long limbs and jagged teeth, or a murderer who broke into the house hours ago and has been watching you all night, waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike. You don’t know if there’s something there—or if you watched too many scary movies tonight.
Knowing your cowardly nature, it was probably the latter, but you couldn’t shake off that what if… what if there was something down there?
“Please, please, please!” A shiver crawls up your spine and the darkness wraps around you, almost bringing tears to your eyes, “Curtis, please!”
“Dude—what’s the wait up?”
Curtis fixes his headset, his wrist cramping from being in this position for so long. “My sister wants to stay in my room.”
A series of sounds echo through his headphones, varying from disappointment, interest, and sympathy. He could name what noise came from which friend, simply because he knows how each of them feels about you.
You weren’t a spoiled brat or a bitchy devil who turned his life upside down, you were far from that. You were sweet, too gentle and kind to survive by yourself. Clinging to his hands and clothes with your gentle touch and irresistible warmth, like sticky honey. Honey that rotted his teeth and only made him hungrier.
Your naivety has led you to his bedroom many times, from asking him about things you’ve heard on campus—“what is teabagging?” When those words left your innocent mouth, Curtis choked on his saliva. Thankfully he didn’t have to answer you because it was dinner time. Don’t ask, don’t ask, Curtis repeated in his head while everyone was sitting at the dining table, he just knows your parents would find some way to blame him for corrupting you.
If they only knew how much he was holding back from doing that.
You were easily scared, so he expected you to be frightened this dark and dreary, rainy Halloween night. It wasn’t the family’s typical celebration, you were grounded after failing a test and Curtis was stuck babysitting you as punishment for a mishap involving a hockey puck and a broken window.
At least his friends were in the same shit—he wasn’t playing hockey alone—that’s why they’re spending Halloween night playing videos and eating their weight in candy.
Before your parents left for a party, the decorations were taken down because of the upcoming storm, and your jack lanterns were brought inside. Only a handful of trick-or-treaters came by, so the candy bowl by the front door was still full. Or it was until you started nervously snacking halfway through your scary movie marathon. Your tongue is sore from all of the sour treats.
Curtis would be surprised that you didn’t sneak out, but he knows you’re too obedient and fearful to be that bold. Him, on the other hand, you had to cover for him whenever he left in the middle of the night for a party. There was surely an advantage to having a sweet stepsister, he had someone to back him up, or save him from difficult situations. You even let him hide his weed in your bedroom since your parents routinely checked his room after a neighbour caught him smoking in the park and practically dragged him home by his ear.
And the neighbourhood still doesn’t know who egged her house last week—Curtis had the greatest friends in the fucking world.
“—she can’t be that bad.”
“Huh?”
“Your sister, you should let her join our game.”
Steve groans. “Ugh, Buck, you just have a crush on her.”
“No, I don’t!”
“Is that why you sent her those love letters a few weeks ago?”
His gaze locks on Bucky’s character as if that was really him and he could feel Curtis’ glare through the screen. “That was you?”
Bucky makes an offended noise. “Thanks a lot, Steve!” He hisses, “Okay, maybe I do like her, but I wouldn’t try anything, she’s your sister.”
“And he’d probably kick your ass.”
“That too.”
“Nah, but he’s right. She’s probably dying of boredom being trapped in that house.”
Curtis gnaws on his lip, staring at the glowing monitor displaying their stats from the last game. It’s steadily gotten better and he isn’t sure if he wants you to ruin that streak. Plus, you didn’t even like his games, you much preferred using his PC (that he built himself) for the Sims. He thought it was cute that you made a virtual version of him and put the two of you in a big purple and blue house with a dog and a cat.
“We could pick an easier map so she isn’t completely lost.”
Curtis exhales, “Let me think about it.”
“Uhm… okay.” You lean on his doorway, blinking down at the hardwood floor. “Can I still come in though?”
“What?” He turns to you, suddenly remembering you standing there. “Oh, not you, honey. You can stay in here—for a bit.” He tags on, he didn’t want you to linger too much. Especially since he was still playing with his friends, at least you wouldn’t hear their endless profanities and arguing.
You beam and scurry towards the bed, almost tripping over yourself before plopping on the unmade sheets. The mattress jostles and an empty pop can tips over and falls to the ground, joining the mess of the day, from candy wrappers and dirty dishes from when he ordered pizza for dinner.
You giddily settle into his wrinkled sheets, snuggling under the duvet with your blanket and stuffed Care Bear, Grumpy bear. From here, you see his computer monitors and that war game glowing bright, you’ve watched him play a few times, and were always amazed by his quick reflexes and tactics.
“Tell your friends I say hi!” You wiggle your toes, Curtis’ bed was so comfy and warm. “But that’s it because I’ll be quiet now.”
“Honey—now don’t get jealous, Bucky, green isn’t your colour.”
“Shut up!”
“She says hi.” Curtis runs a hand over his buzzed head, tuning out his idiotic friends.
Steve whoops, “Tell her Bucky says he loves her.”
“I live across the street, don’t make me come over and punch your teeth in.”
“Now, now, we all know honey doesn’t like violence. You’ll never marry her with that attitude.”
“Alright, calm down, fellas.” Andy laughs, “Curtis, are we still playing?”
He hums, “let’s fuckin’ go.”
Curtis doesn’t know how long he’s been standing here, but he knows he’s a damn pervert. It’s been an hour since you came in, and Curtis had bid goodbye to his friends before he turned around and saw you sprawled across his bed, your sweater rolled up and exposing your cotton panties and an undeniable wet spot. Spot was an understatement. You were moaning softly and rubbing your thighs together, making the small spot into a full patch that clung to your folds.
He gulps, clenching and releasing his fists until the heat in his belly dissipates. He busies himself with gathering the dishes, food wrappers and empty cans that litter his bedroom, avoiding your wet, clothed cunt at all costs because if he gets another glance, he’ll fall victim to his desires.
After doing the dishes, he cleans up after you in the living room, picking up small candy wrappers and fixing the throw pillows and blankets to his mother’s liking. He checks all the doors and windows, peeking out the window at the pouring rain and strong winds. Thunder rumbles loudly as he creeps up the stairs slowly, preparing himself for spending the night next to you—and restraining himself from touching you.
He places a glass of water on the nightstand closest to you and picks up your stuffed Grumpy Bear. A yelp erupts from his chest when you grab his arm, latching on with a death grip.
His wide eyes land on you, shockingly awake and breathing heavily, “Honey, what—”
“T-The thunder. I—” You jump as another boom echoes through the sky, you try to tug him into bed, “Curtis! C’mon!”
He slides under the sheets and immediately, you curl up against him, clutching Grumpy to your chest. Your eyes are squeezed shut as he rubs up and down your back, soothing each tremor rocking through your body.
This isn’t the first time this happened, you hated storms with passion. From the dark looming clouds, harsh winds and gallons of rain, the cherry on top was the loud thunder and flickering lightning. Back in your hometown, there were terrifying storms that would tear roofs off houses, sweep away anything outside and knock down trees.
Curtis knew how to deal with you when you got like this, so he distracted you.
You’re okay, honey. Everything is fine. He repeats over and over again until you stop shaking, he plants a chaste kiss on the top of your head, “Why did you want to come in here?”
It’s quiet for a few moments before you speak, timidly meeting his eyes. “I had a horror movie marathon.” You shyly admit, “and just couldn’t be alone. I was too scared!”
He didn't have to ask since he heard your screams and squeals from here, even with his headphones on, but hearing it from your lips boosts his ego. You have always run to him when you were scared, confused or both. He was your saviour in more ways than one, and he’s your first choice for comfort and safety.
“What were you going to wear to the party tonight?”
You slump, remembering your plans with your new friends from college. “We were all gonna be the plastics from Mean Girls! But their Halloween costumes. I was gonna be a mouse.” You pout, “Don’t tell my dad, but I got a little nightie like what she wears in the movie. It’s really short and sheer… you could see almost everything underneath.”
His eyes fall to your puckered lips, “Oh.”
“Yeah, I know. I thought those dresses were only for home, not public, but Nat said all the girls dress that way for Halloween.”
He sometimes forgets you weren’t from the city. Sweet, naive you grew up in a small town before your father married his mother a year ago. He recalls teaching you how to transit everywhere, telling you which trains and buses went where. You were so confused with all the names and routes, you called him every day to ask for directions.
“Sounds like you’d get cold.”
“I could show you!” You go to stand but another rumble of thunder has you clambering back into bed, to your safe soft bundle with your stepbrother. “Maybe later actually.”
Curtis laughs, “You a w’ittle sca’wed?”
You shove him and he’s quick to return it, this time almost knocking you off of the bed. It isn’t long until it turns into a tickle fight, he pins you down and digs his fingers into your sides, straddling your kicking legs as you loudly cackle. You’re no match for his strength and are forced to lie there, laughing till tears are streaming down your face and your throat goes sore. One cough is all it takes for Curtis to release you and hand over the water.
You gulp heartedly, droplets escape the corners of your lips and trail down your chin to your neck.
He still feels the warmth of your body against his, so much smaller than him, and crying the prettiest tears and thrashing between helpless pleas for mercy—if he had it his way, you’d be acting the same way with far fewer clothes on.
Thunder booms and you jump, the water spilling down your chest and legs, soaking straight through your sweater and the sheets below.
“Ugh! Sorry, Curtis, your bed is a little wet now.”
He watches the realization hit your face.
You quickly close your legs, “I didn’t—oh god, I didn’t—I’d never pee in your bed.” Your hand falls between your thighs and your eyes widen, you don’t remember your dream but it must’ve been a dirty one, the kind you’ve only had a handful of times. “I-I have to go change!” You surge up, squeezing your legs together while pulling down the hem of your sweater.
Embarrassment floods you until it pours out your mouth in stuttering excuses, dutifully ignoring Curtis’ offer to walk you to your bedroom if you’re scared.
You don’t even grab your stuffie before shuffling out of his room, yanking the sweater over your ass to savour any bit of pride you have left.
Curtis was seconds away from grabbing you and taking care of your little wet problem. He’d dive headfirst into those sinful delusions and indulge in the pleasure you’re so cluelessly withholding. He rubs over his pants and the wet spot that was more than just water, imagining just how slick you were. He’d bet your arousal was sticking to your panties.
And now it’s all going to fucking waste.
When you come back, he’s comfortable under the sheets with a pillow strategically placed over his crotch, but of course, you don’t notice a thing.
You take shy little steps, your legs never spreading too far until you’re standing at the foot of his bed in a fresh new sweater.
“This is it.”
It is a sheer babydoll dress, thin and delicate with a bow at the collar and a frilly hemline. You hold it against your body, swaying cheekily. “Isn’t it cute? Now imagine me with mouse ears, nose and whiskers.”
Curtis gulps, daydreaming about your glowy skin draped in that airy fabric. “Very cute, honey. But I don’t think that’s appropriate at home either.”
You deflate, “No?”
“Not when our parents are home anyway…” he trails off, “but you can wear it when it’s just us. It’ll be our little secret.”
You nod eagerly, “I’m good at keeping secrets. I haven’t said a word about you sneaking out—or the weed, and I never will!”
That’s why he loved you. So positive and enthusiastic, a breath of fresh air in his normal, boring life. He’s so glad he convinced his mother to go on a second date with your father. And to think he just wanted her out of the house so he could throw a party, and now he has unlimited access to the sweetest, prettiest girl he’s ever seen.
Your gullibility was just a plus, and it’s thanks to that innocence that he’s able to convince you to wear your new nightie to bed.
“It’s Halloween, you should still wear it even if you aren’t going to a party. That way when you do wear it out, you’ll already have broken it in.”
Curtis finds out why you were walking so strangely after you fall asleep again. That demonic little voice wins and convinces him to dip in his twisted curiosity.
The lamp is on the dimmest setting, barely illuminating, but it’s sufficient in this pitch-black darkness. It’s enough, he repeats in his head, he doesn’t need brighter light or a fucking camera, although he wants to immortalize you from this angle.
Curtis is lying on his stomach between your legs. The blanket is slightly pushed to the side and your sweater is rolled up. His hands stroke up and down your inner thighs and his eyes are locked on your too-small panties. The cotton cups your core firmly, outlining your slit and deliciously falling victim to your slick just like the last pair.
You beguiled him, pushing him over the edge and into the dark forbidden depths—from the sheer lingerie to the tiny panties, to fucking grinding against his thigh when he was dead set on not corrupting you tonight.
Now, look what you did.
You were so needy and wet, he’d be a monster to abandon you in agony. Curtis refused to let this gleaming opportunity fade away, he’s saved you countless times, and another wouldn’t be so bad. He’ll put you out of your misery just like any big stepbrother should.
He carefully removes the rest of the sheets from your body. From the drift of cool air, you squirm then settle on your back again, legs splayed wide open. The moonlight fuses with the yellow lamplight, bathing you in an exquisite, irresistible flare. It calls to him like a beacon, pulling him by the throat to your most precious spot.
He mouths against the cotton, soddening the fabric with his saliva. At first, he’s discreet, cautiously licking, as if he isn’t starving for you. Once he’s certain you weren’t waking up, he seeks your clit, the delectable button that has been on his mind all night, and licks it through your panties.
The minimal light might be enough, but this wasn’t. He tugs the gusset to the side, nosing along your inner thigh as your smell drills into his head.
“So fuckin’ pretty.” The words are spoken in a whisper, his dark gaze glued on your folds that glimmer with your arousal. You’re so fucking sticky. He can’t resist breaking the string of your slick between your panties and your slit with his tongue, the minuscule taste instantly makes him addicted. “Prettiest pussy I’ve ever seen.”
He rubs your clit slowly, just enough to make your breath deepen as you sleep soundly, beautifully unaware. Your nub swells under his touch and your arousal leaks down your cunt to your rosebud. Curtis refuses to let a drop go to waste.
He groans as your taste floods his mouth, your warmth satisfying every craving he’s ever had, fulfilling every ache while leaving more in its place. The demand for more and more fuels him on, just like your soft snores as wet sucking noises float into the air. With his eyes shut in bliss and he grabs your hips, tugging you closer.
He’s only fantasized about this. Never daring to commit to corruption. The guilt should be eating him alive right now, remorse should be wrapping around his neck and yanking him away from you—his sweet, innocent, sleeping stepsister. But it doesn’t, if anything, it excites him. The illicit nature and stark boundaries he’s leaping over.
Your soft whines edge him further, kissing your clit on his way down to your weepy hole. His tongue swirls around before breaching, piercing deep until his nose rubs against your button. He licks into your virgin hole, nuzzling your folds with his prickly beard.
This is far better than shamefully jerking his throbbing cock with your panties to his nose.
Your high hits suddenly, catching him off guard when your hips rise and your panties snap back into place, ridding him of the opportunity of watching you come. He can’t say he hates what he’s gifted anyway, your cream gushes out and soaks the cotton. He rushes forward, enveloping your clothed pussy in his mouth and sucking your orgasm through your panties, hearty groans rumbling in his chest.
He’s so rough and loud that you stir, but that only plunges him into a fervid hunger. Your cunt pulses under his mouth as he cleans you up, greedily taking any drop of your essence like he’ll never have you again. But he will, he knows he will.
Lewd noises draw you from dreamland into a confusing reality, following the trail of the strange fluttering heat between your thighs. “C-Curtis?”
He should pull away, he should apologize and beg for forgiveness but Curtis has played nice long enough.
“These are so thin, I could just—” he rubs his nose along your clothed folds, nudging your swollen clit. “So fuckin’ tight too.”
You squeak, attempting to shut your legs but he forces them open, mouthing against your core like he’s been wandering the desert for days and you’re a stream of water.
Shaky breaths tremble your frame, the sheets wrinkled in your fists as his tongue glides down your slit to your untouched hole, “What—what are you doing!”
“You were rubbing against me, honey.” He’s intoxicated on you yet hyperaware of every tiny movement of your face, reading your reactions effortlessly. “I’m just helping you out, that’s what big brothers do.”
“Is this okay?” You ask, “A-Are we, can we do this?”
“Yeah, baby. You think I’d lie to you?” He licks his hand and reaches under your sweater, tracing up your warm skin. He pinches your nipple, his saliva making you squirm from the sudden cold. He fondles your tit, switching between both until your rigidness fades away and you quietly moan.
His attention falls back on your pussy, inches from his face and begging for him. He’s quick to yank off your panties and fully expose your centre to him once more.
“Are you sure, Curtis?”
He huffs, “I’m sure. It wouldn’t be very kind of me to leave you here to suffer, now will it?” He traces down your folds, taking pride in the hitch in your breath, “And this feels good, right? So it can’t be bad.”
You sleepily process his words, “that feels—oh!” You watch as he lightly licks your clit, his tongue is hot and soft, just grazing over your bundle like it was a saccharine treat.
He hums, closing his lips around it just to make you feel his heat and wanting you to know how good he can make you feel. He pops off tenderly, “It’s sensitive, huh?” He circles the erect nub with his thumb, “Don’t worry, honey, I’ll be gentle. You trust me, right?”
You shakily exhale, struggling to hold his dark gaze with the unfamiliar tingles darting through your body. “S-So much, Curtis.”
“Don’t call me that.” He kisses your mound, his breath puffing against your warm skin as his eyes lock on your face. The moonlight shines over your features, bathing you in the glow. You look pure, untouched and vulnerable, and Curtis wouldn’t have it any other way. “Say daddy.”
You stiffen, fisting the sheets with wide eyes. You shake your head but your body has a mind of its own and jerks up, desperate for his touch.
“Say it, baby.”
“I can’t—”
He pulls back and swats your cunt, making you gasp sharply. He repeats it again and again, aiming for your most sensitive spot and getting rougher each time. Curtis leans up, spitting on your puffy clit, he should feel bad for torturing your button, but you weren’t obeying him. “Say it, or I’ll get a lot meaner.”
His saliva smears down your wetness and you squirm, before his hand lands on your belly, pressing you down to the mattress. Uneven breaths shake your frame, and the ceiling fan spins slowly, almost putting you in a trance. “Dad—daddy.”
“That wasn’t so hard.” He murmurs, peppering kisses along your trembling thighs. His lips ghost your folds before his tongue flattens and licks a firm strip up your slit. “That’s my girl.”
Now that you’re awake, he could have some real fun.
He makes out with your pussy, rubbing your petals raw with his facial hair and sending vibrations up your spine with his deep groans. “So wet for me. Grinding on my leg, moaning in my damn ear.” Curtis exhales, “You didn’t even let me sleep, you know that?”
“I’m sorry!”
“Pardon?”
You mewl as his flat tongue licks up your slit, fucking into your hole. “Da-Daddy! I’m sorry, daddy!”
You were learning so well. “And calling me daddy, I wonder what your real daddy would think of that.” He lets a heavy dollop of saliva drip from his bottom lip to your swollen clit, “He wouldn’t like that I’m eating his daughter’s virgin cunt, huh?”
You feebly attempt to pull him closer, but with his buzzed hair, the best you can do is push him down. Pitifully whimpering as he teases you, licking everywhere but that one spot. As a last resort, you just force him down and squeeze your thighs around his head.
Sparks dance on the inside of your eyelids when he takes that spot—that bundle between his lips with open-mouthed kisses, fueling the shocks coursing through your body. You liked this better than when he slapped it. He alternates between locking the throbbing nub in a suffocating kiss—suckle? And dipping down to noisily slurp at your juices.
This tsunami of impressions and senses brings you to a state of unfamiliar euphoria, a wave crashing within you and releasing an array of passions you’ve never felt before. You mutter nonsense, confused about your body’s response as Curtis works you through it, soothing your pulsating bundle with his skilled tongue and warm mouth.
Curtis is more robust than you and easily escapes your hold, hooking one arm around your thigh. “You liked that, honey?” A smirk plays on his slick lips, “This is your clit, it’s your special sensitive button,” he blows over it and chuckles mockingly when you whimper, “And I fuckin’ love it.”
His thumb pulls back the hood, exposing the delicate bud, erect and swollen, begging for his touch. He can’t resist swirling his tongue over it, your moans music to his ears.
He leans back with the bundle between his lips, pulling lightly before releasing it. A string of spit connects his lips to your core, his saliva coats you and combined with the cream leaking out of your fuckhole, you look like a feast. “So pretty and tasty. So fuckin’ messy.” He groans, “You’ve been keeping this from me, baby?”
You can only blink at him and squeak when he tongues over the exposed nerves. You feel every bump of his wet muscle and his hot breath on your skin, the sensations have your back arching high with unsteady moans.
“What a bad girl, you know how unfair that is? I give you so much, I keep you safe, I’m so nice to you, and you keep this pretty pussy from me.” He presses on your stomach, pinning you down.
“I’m sorry, daddy…” You barely manage and entwine your fingers with his, “didn’t mean t-to!”
“You didn’t?” He repeats, lazily mouthing at the crease between your thigh and warm cunt, his blue eyes locked on your face covered in a sheen of sweat, “but you still hurt me, baby, you made me so upset.”
“I’m sorry!” You yelp when his palm collides with your inner thigh in quick succession, getting awfully close to your centre. “I’m sorry, Curtis!” You apologize again, “Please don’t hit m-my button—”
“—You know what would make me feel better?”
You shake your head, dread sinking deep as he traces down your core, from your puffy clit to your rosebud. He circles the rim, smearing your leaky excitement.
“If you let me play with you.” He lightly spanks your cunt, wet noises flooding the room alongside your choked squeals, “are you gonna let your big brother play with your pussy to feel better?” He doesn’t relent, nor give you the chance to respond, he only slips his fingers down your slit to collect your stickiness and smear it back over your stimulated cunt, paying extra attention to his favourite part. “And you’re making a mess on my bed, dummy. You have a lot to make up for.”
Shuddering from wild nerves and unfamiliar sensations, you give in. He was right, he does so much for you without being asked, he’s your hero in every sense. “You can, uhm… play with me, daddy.”
A bright smile appears on his wet lips, and you’re too blinded by his radiance to notice the rotten roots of his happiness, the utter wrongness of it all. You’d follow recklessly on whatever path he makes, trailing after him like a lost puppy without any thought.
“That’s my good girl—my best girl, actually.” He rewards you with several sweet kisses, pushing up your sweater to give your tummy some love, he trails up higher until your sweater is above your breasts.
You rise towards his comforting touch, biting your bottom lip as he lightly tugs and twists your nipple. He massages your tit, squeezing it gently in his fist while swirling his tongue over your hard nipple. “Have you ever been kissed?”
Your heart thumps loudly, almost muting his low voice. “N-No.”
Curtis cocks his head, blue eyes gleaming fondly, “I’ll make it special for you, honey, but no one can know. I’ll take you out, treat you real nice, and make it like one of those cheesy movies you love so much.”
“Will you?”
“I’ll do anything for you.” He speaks with so much conviction you don’t care about keeping it a secret, a part of you knew how wrong this was, but you’d give up everything before giving up Curtis.
Your hands fall to the back of his neck as you go slack onto the pillows, his chain is cold against your palm, a stark contrast to his heated skin.
“I love you so much, baby.” He kisses down your body until he’s snug between your legs, and his thumb circles your clit, “and Daddy loves you too, pretty button.”
Your face heats up hotter than the sun as burning desire prickles at your skin, he’s gazing lovingly at your most private spot, and talking to it. That only makes you want him more.
“You like when I play with your button, baby?” Curtis asks, speeding up and adding pressure, “You’ve never felt this way before, huh?”
Your eyes water out of pure want and overwhelming pleasure. Your previous highs give you tunnel vision, putting your senses in overdrive. Everything feels unbearably stronger, even his breath on your throbbing centre. “N-No.”
“Never even touched yourself?”
“I’ve had dreams—and woke up sticky, but no.” Even though you can’t remember any of those dreams, you know they’re nothing like this. The heat, desire and pure debauchery are new territories for you, those dirty dreams were just messy blurs but now Curtis is the one to make you feel all those things.
He growls, growing harder at the fact of being the first to taste you and to touch you like this. “You want my mouth on your clit again?” He asks lowly. “You want daddy to suck and lick your pretty, puffy clit, honey?”
“Y-Yes, but please be gentle… it’s really tingly.”
His tongue swipes over his lips, “But I think she wants me to be rough.” He pulls back the hood, spitting down, “she wants me to be mean. That’s why she’s all tingly.”
“Re—” You’re cut off by a whine when he licks the exposed nerves, “Really?”
“Really.” He echos, “your body wants to be ruined, used and stretched around me. This ass and soaked cunt want to be pumped full of my cum, and this fuckin’ clit—she wants me to make you cry ‘cause it feels too good.” His mouth waters as you swell up before his eyes, the smallest stimulation makes your sore button fill with blood, “But that’s a good kind of cryin’ for a good kind of hurt.”
He laps over your petals before latching onto your clit, suckling harshly while his thumb circles your virgin hole. He digs deeper until his facial hair rubs into you, coarse and prickly against your delicate folds. You whimper, caught between grinding against his face and crawling away, bouncing between pain and pleasure.
He pulls back with a deep breath, he could suffocate himself with you and it’d be a joyous end. “Doesn’t it feel good when I’m mean? When I just bully your cunt like I hate it?” When you don’t respond, he glances up to see that lost glazed over your eyes and the stupidest look on your face.
Peaceful is what he’d call it, peacefully divine—but he doesn’t want you peaceful, he wants you ruined and crying, weeping his name like a prayer, he wants you to plead for salvation, a fucking break, just so he can say no.
“Don’t you like it when I do this?” A harsh slap lands on your clit, making your legs flail before he hooks them over his broad shoulders. Prying you open for his ruthless touch, he spits on his thumb then harshly rubs your bundle. “Or when I do this?” He pinches your button meanly and rolls it between his fingers. “Dumb little sister, you like when your big brother is a damn bully, huh?”
“Yes, I do!” You mewl, unable to lie still as the elastic in your belly tightens painfully, stretching you so thin you could shatter with a breeze. “I-I do, I love it so much, da–ddy!”
You’re so pretty when you cry.
“That’s right, you just gotta remember that daddy always knows best.” He dives forward and messily tongues at your creamy hole, eagerly swiping up any juices you have to offer. “Wanna know a secret?” He suckles, pressing deep between your folds and shaking his head, burning your sore skin with his beard. “The puffier it is, the better it tastes.”
He thrusts his tongue in your hole while rubbing your clit, the bottom half of his face is a mess. Your previous orgasms and his spit coating his beard and down his chin, your cream collecting around his swollen lips. You aren’t any better, hot tears streaming down your face and drool seeping out of the corner of your lips dumbly.
You can barely think—your mind is flooded with him, his smell, his soft bed under you, and his touch.
“Have you ever squirted before?” He asks, but all you can utter are incoherent words, he takes the benefit of the doubt and settles on a squeaky pathetic no. “Fuck, are you gonna make a stupid mess on daddy’s bed, dumb baby? Gonna get me all dirty, fuckin’ soak me with juices from this virgin cunt?”
You make confused noises, stuttering out his name between heaving breaths as the wave builds and builds, threatening to crash over and flood you from the inside out.
Curtis grins madly, eating up every one of your helpless mewls, bullying your sensitive nerves with his thumb as if you’re his damn controller. “It’s okay, honey, your body is gonna thank me for being so mean.”
You squeal so loudly that your voice cracks, breaking off into mindless babbles as you squirt, your orgasm shooting out into Curtis’ awaiting mouth. His torturous touch on your swollen bundle never yields and only gets more intense.
You’re caught between horrified and amazed as Curtis ferociously sucks your burning clit, prolonging your orgasm until you try to get away. He pulls you back and secures your quivering thighs around his head. He’s merciless and dives forward, roughly tonguing your pulsating bundle until much weaker, final spurts escape your body.
He doesn’t stop until you’re a quivering mess, covered in your arousal, sweat and his saliva. Even then, he spits down on your thoroughly ruined pussy with your juices that still filled his mouth. He meets your watery gaze, flashing you a wide smile. “You okay, honey?”
“That—Is that it?”
“It doesn’t have to be.” He raises to his knees, your juices shining in his beard and around his lips. “But I don’t want you to get overwhelmed, I know that was a lot.” And he didn’t even kiss you yet.
“But you… doesn’t that hurt?” You blink down at his hard bulge, your legs still spread wide with your wetness seeping into his bedsheets. “I don’t want you to hurt.”
“So fuckin’ sweet.” He exhales, cupping your cheek. “You can watch me, okay?” He tugs down his sweatpants and boxers with one swoop, and his cock smacks into his lower abs, flushed an angry red and leaking pre cum from the mushroom tip and down the prominent veins. “Just spread your legs and keep looking at me.”
You subconsciously lick your lips, spreading your legs wide as he crawls forward on his knees, squeezing his thick base.
“Good girl, why don’t you spread your pretty pussy for me too?” His jaw tightens under his beard, eyes bouncing between your dazed face and your ruined clit, “show daddy your puffy button so I can come on it.”
𝐄𝐧𝐝𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: ehem... a very special eun @comfortcap made me this way with button play. I'm also very tempted to make a part two. But i already have a full series with stepbro!ari coming [fraternal instincts] BUT CURTISSS😖🫶
𝐒𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞! check my kinktober masterlist for the rest of my fics
As always, I hope you all enjoyed this and I’d love to hear your thoughts/feedback !! <3 — ☼ 𝐃𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐲 𝐊𝐨-𝐟𝐢 ☼
I don’t do taglists anymore. ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ 𝐅𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰 & 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧 𝐨𝐧 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲: @𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐲𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲
#Curtis Everett#curtis everett fanfic#curtis everett fanfiction#curtis everett smut#curtis everett x innocent!reader#stepbrother curtis everett#step brother Curtis Everett#stepbro curtis everett#curtis everett x reader#Curtis Everett x you#curtis everett x female reader#Curtis Everett imagine#innocent reader#why are you scared au#sonny’s stories#Chris evans#tw stepcest#Chris evans fanfiction#Chris evans smut#Chris evans x reader#snowpiercer fanfiction#Curtis Everett x reader smut#size difference#chris evans fanfic#tw somnophilia#Chris evans characters
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A chronological analysis on Twilight and Yor - Part 19
*This is part of an ongoing post series. If you missed the Introduction/Part 1, click here*
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The episode where Bond assists Twilight with his mission at the laboratory may not seem like a significant story, but it's actually the first time Twilight has spent a considerable amount of time alone with someone (Bond) with whom he doesn't have to put on any airs – not as Loid Forger, nor as an aloof spy. He has no reason to hide anything from Bond, someone who can't talk or judge. So who is the man revealed in such a rare situation? While at first he's annoyed that Bond's presence could hinder his mission, his annoyance soon turns to empathy. With an uncharacteristically concerned look on his face, he asks Bond if he came to get revenge on the scientists who hurt him and his friends.
We saw in the doggy crisis arc that Twilight has compassion for dogs when he refused to harm the German shepherd that attacked him, and when he gave sincere thanks to Bond for saving Anya. But this episode shows further proof that Twilight sees Bond as more than just "a dog." Not only does he show empathy for what Bond had to suffer through in the past, but he's projecting the very human notion of vengeance onto a dog. He also chooses to trust Bond's instincts rather than send him away…and as a result, his mission is a success! As we'll see in later episodes, his bond with Bond (no pun intended) will only continue to grow.
Unfortunately the same can't be said for Bond's bond with Yor (though it's a totally one-sided thing). We as the audience know that Yor would never act violently towards Bond, but thanks to his misinterpretation of his vision of blackness (which Endo confirms in the fanbook did not mean death), he thinks her food will indeed kill him.
As @piracytheorist pointed out, Bond may not understand that Yor's toxic food is completely unintentional. Since he was traumatized by his time at the lab, where they fed him rancid food, he may equate being fed bad food to some kind of punishment. Plus, being a dog, he may not understand that humans' actions don't necessarily reflect their true intent (misinterpreting the actions of others is such a common theme in Spy x Family, I can even tie it back to Bond!) Doesn't help that Anya put the idea in his head that Yor will kill him if he disobeys her.
It's unfortunate, but at least Yor is oblivious to the fact that Bond thinks this way about her. I know she would feel awful if she knew he was scared of her!
After the "Pastry of Knowledge" incident at Eden, Twilight is again faced with more failing test grades from Anya. But this time, he's more composed about it, even noting that she would have done well on the classical language part had she not made so many spelling mistakes.
@sophiamarieispinkbunny-chan brings up a good point in this post that it's unusual for the ever-suspicious Twilight to dismiss the fact that Anya is knowledgeable about an archaic language of all things. But as we've seen time and time again, he's more likely to turn a blind eye to anything suspicious about Yor, Anya, and Bond compared to anyone else.
This suggests that, though he won't admit it, he could possibly be afraid…afraid that if he digs too deep, he'll learn things about them that could lead to them having to separate. The only exception to this so far has been when he investigated Yor after Yuri's first visit, which is understandable since having an SSS officer so close to him could be disastrous (and of course, he felt guilty about it after).
But in Anya's case here, he not only decides that's it not worth thinking about, he even cooks her favorite dinner that night (hamburger steak) without any complaints. Compared to the very first time he was confronted with her poor school skills, he's definitely learning to be a more understanding father (and a less meticulous spy).
Some time later, Yor meets up with Franky to help him rescue a lost cat. This is probably the first time the two of them have been alone together without Loid present, so Yor feels a bit uneasy about this unexpected social interaction. In typical Yor fashion, she expresses concern for the cat and is eager to help, but also thinks she may be more of a bother to Franky. She also hesitates when referring to Loid as her husband. As I've mentioned in previous posts, at this point in the series, I believe she has a crush on Loid but is clueless about those feelings, so she gets flustered whenever their relationship is brought up.
I find it funny how Yor with all her crazy strength and assassin skills is totally powerless against cats clinging to her! Obviously her power is strictly reserved for the "bad guys" she's sent to eliminate on her jobs (or anyone who threatens her loved ones). Innocent animals are safe, even if they scratch her face bit!
As Franky comes up with ways to catch Kopi, Yor gives him her full supportive side by continuously praising him for his inventions. However, she has no hesitation about sacrificing said inventions to prevent Kopi from running into traffic.
It not only makes sense that she'd be ignorant about how much work goes into building such a machine, but it also makes sense that she holds nothing back when trying to save someone who's in trouble, even if all notions of acting "normal" go out the window – whether it's this cat, the Eden cow, or confronting SSS officers that threatened her family.
As a side note, another example of Yor's wholesome, humbling personality that's only present in the Japanese version, is that she gives the honorific "-san," which denotes respect, usually translated as "Mister" or "Miss," to everyone (besides Yuri, but that's normal for an older sibling). Not just children like Anya, but even animals. She calls Bond "Bond-san," and in this episode, she calls Kopi "Kopi-san." She even called the terrorists from the doggy crisis arc "terrorist-san."
In fact, Yor uses keigo (the polite form of Japanese speech) excessively, almost to an abnormal amount. This could be a reflection of many things about her character, such as her low self-esteem, eagerness to put those around her at ease, and the possibility that Garden instilled the idea in her that she's just a "soldier" for her country, so she never gave a thought about fulfilling her own identity. However, as I'll discuss later, there are some rare and telling moments where she drops this filter and lets her raw feelings out.
When Yor returns to work later, we see that being "normal" is something she's still hung up about, since she gets very excited when Sharon suggests that she may have finally become "somewhat" so. This scene also shows how good she feels after helping someone out, which carries over to her meeting with Shopkeeper soon after.
Speaking of which, we once again see Yor's naivety about her assassin job that I discussed in Part 13: she thinks of it as just getting rid of "evildoers." But despite her strong desire for this, I never got the impression that she likes being an assassin, as in, she enjoys the act of killing people. Compared to a typical view one would have of someone who willingly kills for a living, she doesn't relish in her murders, taunt her opponents, or display any kind of pleasure from their pain. As we'll see throughout the cruise arc, she's very professional about it, being indiscriminate and earnest with her targets. She kills solely for the sake of others, whether it's to help her family or her country. What she desires is the result of the work – eliminating "bad guys," not the actual act of elimination.
The scene where Shopkeeper launches a surprise attack at Yor, only for her to easily dodge it, reminds me of the fact that Yor is sometimes described as "clumsy," but she's definitely not clumsy on the physical side.
Usually characters in anime/manga who are shown to have traits similar to Yor, like exaggerated naivety and a low sense of self-worth, are also shown to be clumsy in the typical sense of dropping things, tripping, and making messes. But, while Yor has tasks she's not good at, like cooking and sewing, and she occasionally has trouble controlling her incredible strength, she's definitely not clumsy. I'm really glad that Endo didn't give her the "clumsy" trait to go along with her social awkwardness, as it would make no sense for a highly skilled assassin to not be anything but perfectly coordinated with their body. We see many examples of this with Yor, not just in how she overpowers every opponent she encounters, but smaller things, like in her introduction episode where she catches the tray with her foot, and how she swiftly leaps and clings to the ceiling at the pet adoption fair without anyone noticing.
Continue to Part 20 ->
<- Return to Part 18
#spy family#spy x family#sxf#twiyor#spyxfamily#loid forger#yor forger#sxf analysis#sxf meta#loidyor#loid x yor
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More CoD thoughts!! This time medieval!au with concubine!König
Warning(s): fem!reader (idk if that is a warning but good to know) / I canon (this) König as blond FIGHT ME pls don't / a mention of brushing hair (do I have to mention is? idk)
So imagine you are an empress
And König is this colonel who has fallen from grace. He lost a battle or something which resulted in many men dead
And now he's on his knees in front of you, face downcast and awaiting your judgement
You're sitting up on your throne and watching the man, thinking deeply about what to do with him
Yes, he made a mistake and your people expect him to be punished for it. But you can't deny that he has been a great strategist
"Leave us", you order
Once everybody has left the throne room, you stand up and saunter down the stairs, dragging your skirts behind you
Circling the crouching man, you trace his shoulders
"Remove your helmet, colonel."
His hands falter for a moment before he reaches up and reveals his scared face
Light blue eyes look up at you as blond hair falls into them
Finding him way too handsome to kill, you give him a proposition
Be your war advisor disguised as a concubine
Because he needs to be 'punished' in the eyes of your subjects, but also all your war and army advisors haven't been on a battlefield for decades and are idiots
Your advisor of royal customs has also been pestering you about finding a husband or starting a harem (as you dismissed your father's concubines the moment you took over the throne)
Two birds with one stone
König hates the idea at first, but he knows it's better than being executed
But he realises once he is led to his chambers that maybe this isn't soooo bad
It's the first time in years that he sleeps on a decent bed and has quality food in his belly so he's not complaining
The first time König joins you in your strategy meetings, he scares the crap out of your advisors
I mean... the man is two metres tall, bulky and has scars all over his body
It also doesn't help that he is shirtless, so his battle scars are on full display
Every time one of your advisors says something stupid or something he doesn't agree with, König grunts/scoffs
It makes you turn your head towards him and he bows down to whisper in your ear what he has to say
10/10 times he's right
And your advisors quickly realise that the man knows what he's talking about, that he's not just a concubine that you keep bringing with you
They hate him
One thing that König has been dreading is being called to your chambers. He knows it is the job of a concubine to please his empress, but he was forced into this position
So, when he is called to your chambers one evening, he mentally prepares for the worst
Except, it's not like that
When he's let into your room by the royal guards, he finds you seated at a table set for two people with a beaming smile
You raise to your feet as König bows deeply
"Come, join me for supper."
He's sceptical at first, expecting a catch
But you reassure him with a laugh that you won't force him to do anything he's opposed and that it's just a dinner
You ask questions about his life in the army and where he grew up, about how his youth was
It becomes a daily ritual for the both of you
In the beginning, you have to invite him. But after a while, he makes his way to your chambers on his own. It evolves to you finding him already lounging around when you come back from your duties of the day
One day, he helps you undo your miraculously crafted hairdo and since then it has become something that he just does as you wait for the servants to set the table and bring the food out
You close your eyes content as König rakes a comb through your hair, working out the knots
Eventually, you and König feel the need to spend more time together
It goes from you reading in your private gardens and him swinging a sword around
To him joining you for your day whenever he can and acting like an unofficial bodyguard
He scares off any and everyone who he deems too close to his empress
I personally would be spooked if this two-metre-tall, scantly clad man loomed over the shoulder of the person I try to talk to
It's not long before König starts to develop feelings for you
He knows that it's wrong
But it's the way you're looking at him, treating him like an equal and laughing at his stupid jokes that make his heart flutter every time you do so
He snaps one day when you and him are in your gardens
You have your head resting on his thigh as you read out loud your book, your body fully relaxed in the warmth of the sun and the shade of the trees
König watches how the sun makes your eyes look magical
It makes the butterflies in his belly go on a rampage
Deciding he can't handle you being so close to him anymore, he excuses himself and flees to the safety of his room
It confuses you
But it breaks your heart when he doesn't join you for dinner anymore
You go over your interactions with him in your head, in search of anything that warrants this behaviour
The only time that you see him is when there is a war council, but he keeps quiet and doesn't interject any of your advisors and generals
Your mood sours the longer it goes on, genuinely scaring your servants and the lords
Their usually happy and chatty empress has transformed into a shell and slowly dulls in colour
You don't notice it until your lady-in-waiting suggests you take a break to your summer home for a couple of weeks
So, arrangements are made and your more breathable clothes are packed into trunks and placed on the carriages
You hesitate in front of König's door, not sure if you should ask him if he wants to come with
He has been ignoring you for a while now
So, decide against it and just leave
You sunbath and swim in the ocean all wearing thin, white summer dresses that turn see-through when wet
Your lady-in-waiting sits on the side, her feet in the water as she watches you
"Empress, may I speak freely?"
And after you nod her question makes you choke
"Does the imperial concubine not please you anymore?"
Meanwhile, back at the castle...
König is driving himself mad
He has to be close to you, even if it means to be an actual concubine
So imagine his surprise when he can't find you anywhere and a servant tells him you're at your summer palace
He immediately goes to grab a horse and hurries towards you
You're quite shocked to see a panicked könig arrive and stumble over his feet to get to you
He drops to his knees as you sit in the dining room, his head hanging in shame and chest rising rapidly
"Please...", he begs, "my foolish heart has been stolen by you and I can't live like this anymore. Please, my empress, I would do anything for just a smidge of affection from you. Just say it and it's yours. I'll steal the moon and stars for you. I'll... I'll be naked and ready for you every night to do with me as you please. Be an obedient concubine. Just please..."
You lay a hand on his cheek and the man whimpers as he looks up at you with tears in his eyes
"You foolish man."
You kiss him with all your might, stealing his breath away
"You were always more than just my concubine."
#call of duty#call of duty imagine#call of duty scenario#call of duty au#call of duty x reader#call of duty x you#cod#cod imagine#cod scenario#cod au#cod x reader#cod x you#141#141 imagine#141 scenario#141 au#141 x reader#141 x you#task force 141 imagine#task force 141 scenario#task force 141 au#task force 141 x reader#task force 141 x you#konig#konig imagine#konig scenario#konig au#konig x reader#konig x you#empress!reader
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Hybrid AU in exile week where avian instincts can take over to a degree that is almost horrific, erasing someone’s personality and rationality when they’re panicking. First part here.
Tommy is sick of being sat upon by some nut job he barely knows. It’s been days trapped under a Philza who doesn’t really register human words and mostly just coos whenever Tommy tries to cuss him out. Techno says it’s ‘cause Philza thinks he’s been hurt and needs to be protected, which like, yeah, fine sure, but not by Philza. Tommy already has a guardian. His abuser has to be insanely worried about him, especially after Philza assaulted him for no reason. But every time Tommy tries to escape he’s just dragged back and everything gets worse.
At least that part is familiar.
He’s forced to stay in that nest for days, and Tommy has never handled being cooped up well. Some part of him likes the weight of a parent roosting over him and the feeling of gentle hands combing through his wings and hair, but the overwhelming majority of his instincts just wants his abuser back. Techno is of absolutely no help, mostly since Philza keeps trying to murder him. But he sits in the corner and is open to chat, or read a book aloud to him to stave off some of the boredom. Best advice Techno has is that Philza will be normal again if he thinks his chick is safe and happy.
Hell no. Tommy is not feeding this guy’s delusions, especially when Techno reveals Tommy’s own feathers had been woven next to Philza’s in the nest long before Tommy’s abduction. A-grade creep behavior there. Besides, his abuser will come save him soon. Tommy is so acutely aware that he’ll never save himself.
But then it’s been days and he’s losing hope and just wants to go home, so desperately Tommy tries to figure out what Philza will register as a happy chick. Usually chirps just burst out of him, not something he controls at all, but with some struggle he forces out the little trill he made every time his abuser came home.
Something twists in Tommy’s chest as Philza echoes the joyful chirps at him. It feels horribly right, complete whereas with his abuser the greeting was never returned. That wasn’t his fault, he wasn’t an avian. Neither of them had known what was needed to soothe his instincts.
But it works. Philza blinks rapidly, pupils returning to normal. His gaze locks on Tommy, eyes filling with tears. “I’m so sorry he did this to you.” Philza wraps him in a warm hug. Juuust great. He was hoping to leave after Philza got over it. All he wants is to get back to his abuser, but when he says as much the embrace becomes a vice. Tommy naturally rejects Philza’s awful claims, growing more and more desperate as his abuser is slandered. First the absurd claim he somehow stopped Tommy from flying, like it wasn’t because Tommy was too weak and small to. And then it’s after him for not providing proper shelter at their nest, even though his abuser was trying to teach him to be responsible when he had Tommy make his shack. Then the lack of healing supplies, then the fact he was dying alone when Philza found him.
“No, it’s my fault I tried to fly when he was gone! He was there for me every time I was injured! Shut up, I can too prove it. Hard not to be there when he caused it half the time!”
For some unknowable reason, Philza doesn’t take that well. Neither does Techno, even when Tommy tries to explain they’re misinterpreting what he said, really it was Tommy’s fault, mistakes and the natural punishment for his actions. When he argues it wasn’t bad, Techno brings up the injuries a bit too old to heal when he used the potions. They try to get in his head, voicing all the thoughts in Tommy’s head before he plummeted and proved his abuser right.
Thing is, Tommy has flown before. It’s been awhile, but he has, when he was younger, knew the wondrous taste of its joy. With L’Manburg he’d been careful to fly below the walls so he didn’t get shot down. And it wasn’t possible in Pogtopia. And then after…it just seemed pointless. And now he can’t at all, and the only reason he can find is because he doesn’t deserve that joy.
Unless it was taken from him. Just like everything else, Tommy finally admits. Wearing an avian’s feathers is meant to be a promise to support them as surely as their own wings, and yet his abuser clipped his.
It’s hard, realizing he was only ever so weak because the man he trusted was sabotaging him the whole time. Twisting his instincts, forcing him to become a useless hatchling. Manipulating him so he could never fly to safety.
Tommy begins to sob.
Next>
#i literally could've sworn I've already posted this one but I just can't find it so???#c!tommy#dsmp#dsmp fic#exile arc#exile week#tommyinnit#tommyinnit fanfic#Ctommy#hybrid au#philza#dsmp philza#cphilza#angel duo#angel duo fic#philza fic#philza fanfic#technoblade#dsmp techno#ctechno#bedrock bros#sbi#bedrock bros fic#sbi fic#tw abuse
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Steve and Nancy's break-up looks like a stupid mistake made by a grieving teenager. Just literally a mistake made by a grieving teenager on the anniversary of her best friend's death. She partly blames Steve for Barb's disappearance? She gets rid of him, she is clean now, she is no longer betraying Barb's memory (Barb who hated Steve btw). So Nancy becomes "clean" by drunkenly saying that she pretends to love him, and it was all bullshit, and she does it at a party that she was excited for, and she doesn't remember saying it the next day. So then she cheats on Steve, after being told by an adult who gained her respect that "we don't love Steve"...
I feel so bad for her, because it feels like Nancy wouldn't want to do the break-up that way, it feels like she stopped having fun after the break-up, like she is lonely with Jonathan in a way that she just wasn't with Steve.
I want to cry sometimes, thinking about this prim young girl, who instead of having a normal "I value you, I will always love you, let's stay friends" break-up (because Nancy would break up like that), spiraled away from her relationship in what almost seems like self-harm episode. And now they've reintroduced the love-triangle and it is revealed!!! that this love-triangle is tragic for Steve and Nancy ONLY, while Jon smokes weed (genuinely, good for him, but man) and strings her along when he clearly wants to end the relationship.
hey duffers? hey! hey I JUST WANT TO TALK
love this. honestly no notes at all.
i especially like the mention of the stancy breakup being almost a self-harm spiral for nancy, because i think that just really encapsulates s2 nancy. so much of what she does that season, she does to punish herself. the most important of which being (to me) her weekly dinners with the hollands.
nancy can’t let herself move on, because she doesn’t think she deserves to. it’s why everything is bullshit. they killed barb, they don’t get to be happy.
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I get the impression that Lute had it out for Vaggie long before she made the "mistake" of sparing a cannibal child. Her mutilation of Vag seemed way to calculated and pre-mediated for it to have been a spur of the moment act of brutality. Considering how Vaggie was apparently one of Adam's best Exorcists, she may have had one of the higher individual kill counts among the Legion, something that Lute may have been jealous of her for despite being Adam's number 2. I get the feeling that she was waiting for Vaggie to screw up in some way so she could "cut her loose". She probably kept a close eye on her during Vaggie's last Extermination, saw her spare the child and jumped and was like "opportunity".
art by: reicav97 I really love this scenario and hope it makes it to the show.
Hello again.
Lute is a stoic character yet at the same time so very aggressive and hostile.
Despite her belligerent demeanor, she very loyal to Heaven and appears to have no ill will to the other angels. One can argue that reason Lute is so venomous to Vaggie is because she views Vaggie as a traitor and Lute is very loyal to Heaven and their cause.
But I agree. I think Lute has a personal vendetta against Vaggie. I would guess it was because Vaggie was originally the number 2 to Adam but in the flashback of Vaggie backstory, it still seem clear that Lute had the position then Vaggie. Perhaps the second in command was open and the two were recommended for it at one point. (But then what happened to the angel that had it before if angels were believed to be unharmed?) Veggie just being really outstanding in battle with her numbers. But Vaggie heart wasn't into commanding...and more so of working closer with Adam. While Lute numbers weren't as high but her belief in the cause, and desire of the position and qualities of leading had her qualified. Lute won out at the end by Adam decision, only because Lute had better chemistry and similar views with him about their task and Sinners. Lute just seem to vibe better with Adam which what won him over. (we see how in sync they are...Adam making lewd gestures to emphasize the point the Lute sung about at the trial) Lute, still sees Vaggie as a threat for her position. It only thing I can think of at the time being.
It could be just pure jealousy. Lute seems to be a very jealous girlfriend type. She probably hated Adam admiring Vaggie skills to the point that Adam name her Vaggie after the best thing ever. Lute jealousy also extending to Adams (previous and current((?))) wives.
But I think there's more to it. I know the exorcist thing is the x over the eye but the way Lute brutally cut out Vaggies eye seem a hell of a lot more personal. It seem quite literally. "an eye for an eye". It seem that Lute felt wronged by Vaggie on a personal level and this was her chance to enact the brutality of punishment that Lute believed she deserved. Then move on on a more professional note to strip Vaggie of her wings and halo, the very symbols of a heavenly angel for failing to perform her heavenly duty. But the eye,to me, felt personal.
Lute does seem to have a vendetta against Vaggie. But the reason is a mystery. Lute was definitely keeping a close tabs on Vaggie during the extermination. Since she swooped in nearly immediately when Vaggie refused to kill that child sinner. (Seriously, is it really that kids fault that he was a cannibal? I mean...he was a child...he was probably eating whatever he was fed not really know what he was eating.)
If we do, get more backstory, which I doubt, I think it be revealed that Lute and Vaggie use to be really close. Similar to how Vox and Alastor use to be close. But there's a hell a lot more of venomously animosity between Lute and Vaggie then there is between the overlords.
But we can't really know. The whole exorcist thing is pretty vague. We would know more about Lute and Vaggie if we know more about the exorcist in general. I would like to know more of it in general.
I remember Vaggie fact use to say she died 2014 when there was only the pilot out, but that been completely omitted now.
So is Vaggie and the other Exorcist were humans prior? I don't think that the case. It doesn't seem like a rewarding end life after living as a virtuous person. Waking up to Heavens gates then task with a job (I for one don't want my afterlife to have a job) to be in a secret killing force? Also, if we used the omitted Vaggie death day, plus guessing the time of the story is 2019, when the pilot came out...and Vaggie was with Charlie for three years...it only makes Vaggie an exorcist for two years. It seems unlikely the exorcist were humans at one point.
So I assume...the exorcist as always been angels. That Adam had a hand in? He gives them names apparently. So, like Lilith and Eve are the exorcist (all woman) also came from his ribs? That he regenerates to create more. The dickmaster father all of human and all the exorcist? If Vaggie has always existed as an angel...How long has she been one and took part of exterminations. Be interesting she caught glimpse of the hotel residence in the past during the exterminations only for them to become her found family later. Questions and more questions.
What's with the missing eye motif on the exorcist mask. I know, its more eye for an eye theme. In 'Hell is Forever'
"Did I hear you imply they don't deserve death? Are they winners, are they sinners? 'cause it cut and dry. Fair is fair, an eye for an eye..."
So what EXACTLY was he referring to? The sinners previous life of them committing their sins and the exorcist fulfilling the punishment? Or there something more...the uprising that Sera referred to Emily like was fact. The supposed uprising being the reason the exorcist came to exist to stop. What...actually went down (up?) with this uprising.
#hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel headcanon#hazbin hotel theory#hazbin thoughts#hazbin theory#hazbin lute#hazbin hotel lute#lute#hazbin adam#hazbin hotel adam#hazbin vaggie#hazbin hotel vaggie#hazbin hotel thoughts#hazbin exterminators#hazbin hotel exorcists
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IHNMAIMS Theories
Okay so a lot of people have a problem with the IHNMAIMS game for many reasons, but mostly because Ellen's storyline doesn't make much sense with the others. Nimdok is getting tortured by AM because he was a Nazi, Ted was being tortured because he was a playboy and a liar, Benny let his comrades die, Gorrister possibly sent his wife to an asylum, etc. But Ellen was only sexually abused. That is the furthest thing from her fault, and certainly one of the cruelest things that AM does. So why does AM torture Ellen? I think I have an explaination that might explain things.
First of all, AM isn't torturing the survivors because he wants to teach them a lesson about their past mistakes, because obviously Ellen doesn't have one, at least not one to be tortured over. Plus AM's just not the vigilante type. I think he's doing these things to make them recognise their fears - not face their fears or get over them - but recognise them, to see them, using their own guilt and fear as a weapon. Like that scene from A Clockwork Orange, he's keeping their eyes wide open.
-Nimdok's fear is his heritage, and his shame for his horrific experiments on his own people. He feels guilt not only for the experiments and for throwing his own parents to the Nazis, but that he knows he can never ever atone. His crimes are too great. He's also one of the more obvious cases of AM trying to force them to look at their fears. Nimdok doesn't remember his past, so AM forces his eyes open to see.
-Gorrister's fear is him being at fault for his wife's mental illness, and his guilt over her being put in the asylum. His guilt (and his other tortures from AM) are partly the reason for his attempts at suicide. But of course, AM can't have that, so he punishes Gorrister by, again, forcing him to face his fears.
-Benny's fear and guilt is never knowing if his comrades forgive him, if he is actually a changed man or if he is still an animal inside (and outside, thanks to AM). Benny in the book was gay, before being forced straight by AM. Benny in the game was a soldier who killed his commrades who were seen as weaker, that had shown weakness. The graves themselves say that Brickman is the one that Benny has to apologise to the most. I may have been the only one, but I thought that maybe Brickman could have also been an ex-lover of Benny's, which could have been seen as this supposed 'weakness' of Brickman's. Benny could have been so afraid of being discharged, especially as a drill sergeant, that he killed his lover Brickman so that nobody could have found out. That is why Brickman is seen as more important to apologise to, and why Benny feels that he has to prove himself a changed man even more.
-Ted's fear is his lies being revealed, he's mentioned to be paranoid (though that point was more obvious in the book) which could be due to constantly wondering if he was going to be called out on his behaviour. And his storyline could be reexamined as his fear of if he actually did fall in love with someone, that he wouldn't be able to pretend to be 'knight in shining armour' anymore. I don't believe he was actually in love with Ellen, the book made that part very clear, but because she was the first woman he had actually spent time with, without a mask or an act, that made her even scarier to Ted. Ellen knew who Ted was, without his armour.
-And Ellen. Ellen's story is told in a fantastic way. When we first start her story, she has panic attacks about the colour yellow, she has panic attacks over enclosed spaces. But later on it's revealed that it's not these things on their own that scare her, they're painful reminders of her attacker. It's how after trauma you can only remember certain parts, and not often the full picture. And AM does this to force Ellen to look at her fear full on. Not just yellow, not just small spaces. But of course, if you play the game right, she fights back and gains control of her fear again. But it's clear that Ellen is never 'cured' of these things, she's still scared. But she's probably the least willing to put up with AM bullshit. Her guilt is related to her rape, a lot of people such as myself who have been sexually assaulted/abused do feel guilty, and no matter what people say to assure you, you do often feel like it's your fault, or that your life has ended here, much like how Ellen started slowing down her education after the attack. And due to her being a black woman in the 60s/90s depending on the story, of course she wouldn't exactly feel safe coming forward with anything. This doesn't make AM's torture any less cruel than before, in fact it's probably more so, but it makes more sense than AM punishing Ellen for nothing.
I think it's a really interesting way of looking at it, and it makes a few of their storylines like Benny's, Ted's and especially Ellen's make a bit more sense. If you have any ideas of your own I'd like to hear them!
#i know this is a bit different from my normal post but I just wanted to get this out there#ihnmaims#i have no mouth and i must scream#harlan ellison
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Humankind’s finest Part 2 | Sandman imagine
Part 1 | Part 3
Pairing: Dream of the Endless x Human! Disabled Fem Reader
Summary: Having admitting his feelings for the human girl, Morpheus is now found with the difficult reality of telling her the truth of his identity.
Morpheus had never felt this uneasiness before in his life, he knew that if he wanted his relationship with Y/N to remain, he had to tell her all the truth about him being one of the Endless, King of the Dreams, he had to present himself as the myth in the flesh. But he was undoubtedly terrified.
Because there was a good chance she could walk away from him, after all acknowledging beings with tremendous power like his could be a really hard pill to swallow, and no matter in how many pieces his heart could shattered at his lady’s possible rejection, he would never be able to blame her for leaving. Being held captive had changed him to his very core, he longed to be loved, to care and be cared for; and even with all that fear clouding his mind he was brave enough to ask her to meet up at her apartment.
He was now at her door, doubting if he should knock or not, part of him wanted to walk away, leave her before she even got the chance to break his heart.
“Just fucking knock” his bird groaned, utterly annoyed by his master’s behavior he decided to fly to the bell and ring once and for all. A few moments passed before the girl appeared on the door, with her wheelchair and her signature lovely smile that she always gave him.
“Are you not saying hello?” She joked around, her humor easing his nerves just a bit, so he finally leaned towards her to kiss her cheek while she took advantage of his gesture to softly hug him, taking in the scent of his cologne that she loved so much before she let him in.
They reached the living room before she asked what was going on.
“You look a lot more pale than usual” she commented, not in a playful manner like she had before, her tone let out a hint of sincere concern for the man, which made him sigh and soften his gaze as he held her hand. He asked nervously for her to listen intently to what he had to say before she said anything, she grew visibly anxious as she shifted uncomfortably on her spot.
Suddenly, all the words started coming out, and they couldn’t be stopped, he revealed his identity, his journey, he went on and explained about his realm, The Dreaming. How he was held captive by Roderick Burgess and his family for over a century by mistake, and finally he explained how he ended up coming across her shop. Throughout all of this, she listened intently, remaining awfully quiet as she took on all that new information.
When Morpheus finished pouring his heart out to the young woman she let her whole weight fall back onto her wheelchair, staring into the Endless’ eyes, seeing him in a whole different light.
“You’re telling me you could literally have any Goddess in the world, quite literally and you chose me?” She frowned, Dream could tell she was conflicted, for the first time since he had known her he could sense fear and nervousness in her features.
“I-I’m human! Morpheus there’s nothing special about me, my whole life for you would be like five minutes, I will age and die and- why would you want to live through that pain?” She found herself at the verge of tears and The Sandman ran up to her, kneeling before her while cupping her face in his cold hands.
“Don’t ever say that again” he said looking into her eyes, seeing how the tears rolled down her cheeks “You are the most fascinating being I have ever laid my eyes on. Don’t ever think you are less worthy of love than any other, I’ve seen with my own eyes how people mistreated you and if I could punish them for hurting you, I would.”
“I don’t want to cause you anymore pain…” she whispered, making the Lord of Dreams smile widely as he rested his forehead against hers softly.
He was so scared of her leaving because of who he was, but here she was, caring for him, she didn’t want to walk away because she did not love him, but rather, she loved him so that she was willing to let him go to avoid him the suffering for her death. That was a true act of courage and love.
“My love… You cause me nothing but the greatest joy. I could give you immortality so we spent the rest of eternity together if that’s what you wish. But even if you could only be mortal, I would rather thirty, forty or fifty years by your side than to never experience the uniqueness of your love”
He was being truthful, the love he had for Y/N was unlike any other…
Nada, Callipso, while he did fall for them, Y/N was different, if anyone had told him he would fall in love with a mortal in such a mad way, he would’ve walked away fuming and yet here he was. Kneeling before the woman he loved so, offering her the gift of immortality, completely at her mercy as he touched his face delicately.
“Eternity seems like an awful lot of time” she said.
“Come to The Dreaming with me, I’ll show you everything and you can later decide what you want” the girl smiled, all this seemed like a fairytale, in which she was the pretty princess, which made Morpheus the charming prince, an idea she wasn’t mad about.
“How do I do that?” She asked curiously.
“Just close your eyes and dream tonight, I will find you” he promised.
Coming back to The Dreaming felt different this time, Lucienne was there looking at the King with a slightly puzzled expression.
“Are you alright, my Lord?” She asked.
“Never been better Lucienne. We will have a visitor in the Kingdom” the librarian looked surprised.
“May I ask who this visitor is?”
“Y/N” Lucienne smiled “I trust you will take care of everything”
“Of course, my Lord” she affirmed simply, before excusing herself, knowing there were quite a few things to take care of before Y/N came to the Kingdom that night.
Dream was inspecting his attire for that night, his heart was pounding with excitement, at the simple thought of truly showing who he was, his kingdom, his people to the one he loved.
“Sandman”
He heard her call out for him, and he was quick to run and look for her through the lands of The Dreaming. Until he finally met her again, she was sitting in her wheelchair with a long white dress, at the sight of her beauty he seemed out of breath, and he quickly went in and held her in his arms. He gently picked her up from her usual seating spot, nuzzling her head and smiling into her hair, taking in the distinctive scent. Feeling oddly at peace in her arms.
“Are you ready to meet the Kingdom?” He asked once he was physically able to pull away.
“I’ve never looked forward to anything more in my life” she said, he carefully helped her to grab his arm so they could walk steadily towards the castle.
“Won’t I be needing my wheelchair?”
“My love, this is the Dreaming. If you want it you can just simply think of it and it will appear before you”
“Right, I forget everything is possible here” she giggled. Walking into the large castle was a whole experience Y/N saw any kind of mythical creatures wandering around the castle, greeting at their ruler. She was mesmerized at how respected and loved he was by those around him. Soon they entered the library being greeted by Lucienne, Mervyn and Morpheus’ raven Matthew. The woman was taken back in surprise at the sight of the man whose pumpkin head was floating.
“Everyone, I would like to introduce you to our visitor Y/N. Y/N these are Lucienne, Mervyn and of course Matthew, whom you’ve met” As the Lord of Dreams introduced his servants, the girl shook their hands, giving them a warm smile, every single one of them seemed delighted to finally meet her in The Dreaming realm.
“It’s nice to see you here, Morpheus won’t ever shut up about you. It’s always Y/N this, Y/N that” Matthew went on, Mervyn nudged the bird to prevent him from talking further.
“You could talk? You would’ve saved me a lot of time trying to puzzle him out” she said playfully, making Morpheus’ cheeks turn a light shade of pink.
They spent more time in the library, as Y/N insisted to explore the library further, it was a lovely picture to see Y/N inspect the thousands of books, helping Lucienne stacking the volumes in their place, they were talking cheerfully until it was finally time to head out, as Morpheus had other plans for Y/N.
Dream had decided to take her to Fiddler’s Green. If there was a perfect place to take care to, Fiddler’s Green was just that and he remembered how the sentient always ensured his ruler would fall in love again. They laid on a broad tree, Morpheus had his arm around Y/N’s waist while placing butterfly kisses around her face, the girl giggled while staring into the sunset. It all felt like a romance movie, the one big love story that was inspiring.
“Can I really stay here?” She asked quietly
“If that’s what you wish, yes” he explained “But I do want to warn you, staying by my side might not be the safest choice. While you would be able to escape Death you can still be imprisoned or tortured, some of my siblings may see you as a tool to weaken me” he sighed, it was just fair for her to put all the cards on the table before she made a choice, but that didn’t make it any less easier.
“Hey” she said placing a hand on his shoulder. He dared to look at her through the fear because against all odds he was excited to give his all to her till the end of time and beyond.
But she had to choose him first.
“As long as we have eternity, I will always come back to you. You hear me?” The King let out a deep breathe he failed to realize he was holding back.
She had actually chose him, even when she had a handful of reasons not to. Selfish as it may be, he allowed himself to be happy, and for the first time in millions of years (literally), he gave himself permission to imagine a happy life for himself.
#the sandman#sandman x y/n#sandman netflix#sandman x reader#the sandman comics#morpheus imagines#morpheus#morpheus x reader#dream of the endless#dream of the endless x reader#morpheus dream#sandman imagine#tom sturridge#tom sturridge x reader
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Hi 👋. Saw your recent take on how fandom interpret MQ. And I would to here your thoughts about him being the tsundere people try to make him out to be.
MQ trying to make it up to XL when really FX was the only one still sincere. I've only read up to vol. 4 and reread vol. 1 and 2 to get a better look at details. But there are some concerning lines that even XL noticed. Like MQ seems excited at the prospect of XL becoming this mass murder during the Guoshi FangXin reveal. Even the first introductions in the book was him mocking XL's helpful nature.
"Mu Qing’s eyes were glimmering, however, and his
restrained shock contained a faint underlying excitement." TGCF Vol. 2 chapter 18
"Since his third ascension, there could only be one phrase to describe the
way Mu Qing treated him: passive-aggressive. It always felt like he was waiting
for Xie Lian to get booted for the third time so he could make snide remarks. Yet
now that Xie Lian might actually get booted that third time, he suddenly became
pleasant—he even came specially to deliver medication. This complete reversal
in attitude made Xie Lian feel quite disconcerted." TGCF Vol.2 chapter 19
Even XL was freaked out by MQ acting nice to him.
"Mu Qing suddenly asked, “Was everything Lang Qianqiu said true? Did
you really kill those Yong’an royals?”
Xie Lian looked up and met his gaze. Even if Mu Qing had been forcibly
hiding it, Xie Lian still detected a trace of uncontrollable excitement in his eyes.
He seemed highly interested in the details of Xie Lian’s massacre at the Gilded
Banquet—he followed with another question.
“How did you kill them?” TGCF Vol. 2 chapter 19
And after XL half lied about his involvement.
"Feng Xin paled. Mu Qing loathed that expression of his the most and said
in annoyance, “All right, put that face away. After everything, for who are you
looking so pained?”" TGCF vol. 2 chapter 19
I'm not reading this wrong to think MQ is just a very entitled b****** that got high on his position of power and is looking down on XL for coming from a place which is lower than what most people would go through? Is it appropriate for me to interpret him being downright hostile and reveling in XL's disgrace? Because the stans take for MQ questionable character is bothering me a lot. He is not some prickly cat with a soft heart. He is sharp thorns all the way inside and a heart colder than most.
Unless something changes in further volumes I haven't read which is unlikely. Considering MXTX penchant for consistent character writing.
Thoughts?
Something does change about Mu Qing’s character near the end of the novel, but it’s just character growth. You aren’t misreading any of his actions in the earlier parts of the story. What kills me is that yes, Mu Qing is a terrible person who is petty and jealous and insecure and thinks that the only problem with hierarchy is that he isn’t at the top, but he changes and people ignore that! In the best interest of not introducing spoilers, I will say that Mu Qing does explicitly, using clear language, acknowledge his mistakes and how wrong he was about how he viewed Xie Lian and his treatment of the other man. He acknowledges this on his own under no threat and with no prompting. And people ignore this because it does not fit into their perception of Mu Qing as either right or at least well-meaning. He is neither of those things. He knows it. Xie Lian knows it. But he can be those things if he puts effort into it, and for all people call me a hater about his character (which, yeah lol), I for one think he tries by the end.
So no, Mu Qing isn’t a tsundere because he’s not being mean or rude or petty to those he loves to hide a mushy middle. He’s doing it because he thinks he is right to and that eventually people will see that he is right. The story does not agree he is right and duly punishes him for his fuckery, and he changes into a better person who is actually nicer to his friends because he wants to be their friends and not their superiors. That’s his character.
#tgcf asks#anon#and yeah mq was weirdly happy about the idea of xl committing a massacre#he is weirdly obsessed with the idea of xl going on a killing spree#cause he hasn’t gotten over xl telling HIM that genociding the people of yong’an just because they were fighting them was wrong#but don’t worry#mq gets what’s coming to him#i hope you enjoy that part when the volume drops anon
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Morpheus x oc x Calliope
(Just realised my mistake on the other ones! Meg is an oc and this is indeed an oc story.)
It had been a bit awkward when meg had first opened her front door to reveal the broody man she now knew as Morpheus.
And it had taken her a little bit to overcome her initial fear of him, although that had faded to the back of her mind the moment she had first started sketching him.
His pouty lips, blue eyes and dark hair filled her mind as she had filled her page with his image. "Do you like it?" She had asked as she showed off her version of him.
The corners of his mouth had turned up slightly as he looked at the image. "It is pleasant" he had just murmured scanning over the image in thought.
"You can keep it you know... if you want to" She murmured softly. His hands slightly grazed hers as he grasped the paper.
~~~
Morpheus pov:
Morpheus didn't know exactly when it had happened. But somewhere along the line dream had developed an interest in the mortal...
He and his friend Meg had started 'hanging out' as she said it, a few months earlier after their chance encounter in the park. Which was the reason why they were currently watching the movie 'twilight breaking dawn.'
"I do not get it Meg, why is she mad?" The dreamlord sat crosslegged on the couch, his back strangely straight. He was clothed in a black shirt, black cotton pants and to his absolute disgrace... blue fluffy socks.
Meg turned to him with a smile "Well Jake just told her he is imprinted... which means he is mated to her newborn daughter" He pulled a face. Meg let out a loud laugh at the disgusted expression on his face.
"That is revolting" He muttered glaring at the screen. The phone rang from beside him, and for an intense second he could smell the sweetness of Meg's parfume as she reached over and picked it up.
"Hello?.... Yes this is Sarah" Morpheus felt her tense as she held the phone to her ear in distress now. "What? I thought they had him monotored?.. not anymore? Oh? I'll keep it in mind." She threw down the phone harshly, putting her head in her hands.
"Meg? Is something wrong?" He asked placing a tentative hand on her shoulder. She looked up at him slowly, a sense of panic coming over him as he noticed the tears painting her face. She didn't respond.
Dream's pale hands touched Meg's warm face softly as he stared at her in worry. "What happened Meg?" He asked sternly coaching her to open up.
"They let him go free... he was out of jail before but now they let him go without chaperone... he was free in less years i spend with him.. its so unfair" He hadn't ever seen the girl as she was now, he hadn't ever seen her cry at all.
The sight made place for the heavy feeling of fury to fill his chest, fury he had felt but few times before. "Meg?" He guided her tearfull face to look at him.
Meg pov:
"If you grant me permission, i will punish him for you." His breath tickles her face. She hadn't noticed the little stars in his eyes before, had those always been there?
"What?" She muttered softly staring up at him, "You would do that?" She knew she shouldn't say yes to him. Calliope she knew, was a vast believer of peace it wouldn't be in reign to her friend to do this now.
But...Calliope wasn't here, and this was the first time in months that she simply could not ignore that fact anymore. Nor ignore her grief, "Allright. You can do it" She finally muttered staring up at him.
The smile that appeared on her friends face was bone chilling. "I shall not be gone long" Morpheus whispered stroking her head one last time before dissapearing in a flurry of sand.
She honestly sometimes forgot the beings she was friends with were kind of gods, in moments like these it was really hard to ignore.
He was gone for about an hour, during which Meg wanted for nothing more than to just to curl up and fade away. It was almost torturous the time that was spend waiting to hear of her former capturers fate.
A flurry of sand filled the room and relief filled her as she sat up, quickly crawling to the side of the couch on her knees to stare at him. "What happened?" She muttered as the dark figure of Morpheus walked closer to her on the edge of the couch.
"It is done" He muttered reaching up his hand to stroke her cheek. Meg felt herself pull into eachother at his words, she would never have to see those soulless eyes again. It felt almost unreal.
"Thank god" She breathed heavily her energy drained by the whole ordeal. Morpheus gave her a worried look.
"Why don't you lay down Meg?" He muttered softly not commenting on the weight she put on him as her hands leant on his hard chest.
She nodded but didn't move an inch, instead staring into space blankly. "I'm sorry you had to trouble yourself for me..." she muttered holding her forehead against him tightly. The soft scent of cinnamon and vanilla filled her nose, she hadn't expected him to smell like this.
"Do not fret on my behalf, i would do it a thousand times over for what he.. did.. to you" She could feel the rumble in his chest as he spoke.
She felt his arms slide around her shoulders softly as he embraced her shaken frame with a familiar tenderness.
"You need to sleep Meg." He muttered softly, his soft voice echoeing in her head. It was like he flicked a switch as she felt herself glide sideways of the couch strong arms making sure she wouldn't hit the ground.
She sat up quickly as an unfamiliar scene greeted her, it seemed like a bar... one she had been before. She wasn't sure where though. All she knew was that she should definetly go meet the friend she was supposed to meet there.
She scanned the tables none of the other vegetables ringing a bell. "Ah there he is!" She smiled brightly as she walked straight up to her friend.
Mr lobster smiled at her, his whiskery mustache making it look kind of silly. "Ah hello there Meg! I saved you a seat and ordered you a nice onion soup!
"Ah why thank you mister Lobster!" She sat down on the seat, quickly gazing into the giant bowl of soup located on her side of the table.
"Oh my god" she muttered as she looked at what was clearly a bowl of Lobster soup...how awkward. The waiters must have messed up her order!
"How is your soup?" Mr lobster asks sweetly, taking a sip of his own soup as well. Meg gave him an awkward smile as she slowly brought a bite to her mouth, she didn't even like lobster soup really...
A cough caught their attention as someone stood in front of their table, she recognised him in an instant.
"Morpheus? What are you doing here?" She smiled brightly as she gestured for the broody man to sit down. The man remained standing.
"I am terribly sorry about my interuption, but i really need to steal Meg away for a moment" He turned to Mr Lobster and gave him an amused smile.
"Yes yes right away!" Meg stood up quickly almost tripping over herself to get away from the table, she was glad to be away from that horrific situation.
The scenery changed around her into a blurr of colours and Meg found herself sort of lost to the situation as she followed Morpheus.
"Poof morpheus you really saved me back there, i really didn't want to offend mister lobster" Meg rambled as she trailed after her friend, she couldn't help grasp his cloak as she struggled to keep up.
The only sign he heard her was the amused look he send her way.
In a flash of confusion she found herself reach down toward his hand clutching it tightly in her soft grip. She was sure she imagined the out of character smile that lit up his face.
The blur around her finally fades into something somewhat recognisable and she sighs in relief.
Morpheus pov:
He held Meg's hand tightly as he guided her toward his large castle, she seemed purely awstruck at all the riches and colours around her. He hoped to make her used to the riches one day, he would adore it if she remained here with him.
He took a second to enjoy the feel of her warm hand clutched in his.
"Shall i show you the library Meg?" He asked softly guiding her through the vast halls of his castle. His eyes slowly trailed over frame, she was quite a small woman. He couldn't help himself but compare her to the other lovers he had had before, he had had thousands after all.
The differences between Meg and his former lovers were vast, more than expected really. Nada for example ran an entire kingdom as a strong and unyielding queen, Calliope kind of copied that in a more soft and regal way as she was a godess. What they all had in common he realised, was their shortcoming need of himself.
Meg was more down to earth, no kingdom, no title, just the urge to be a good person. Meg dared lean on him in more ways than one, on their shared company, to talk to him, to let him in. Meg needed him, and the fact that someone actually needed him was something Morpheus hadn't actually felt before.
And something he hadn't known he craved.
His eyes trailed over her features, taking his time of looking at his newfound love as she stared in awe at the vast library surrounding them.
Another thing that was different from his former lovers where her frocks. Meg didn't wear golden dresses or expensive jewels around her neck. No, Meg usually wore her 'denim' trousers and her T-shirts with strange depictions on them. Everything in Meg's style was made to show the world what she was and liked.
From the leftover paint on her sleeves to the metal pins stuck to her jacket. She was clear as day to him.
"It i indiscribable" She said softly as she turned around on her heel and stared at the place. Morpheus sometimes forgot how magnificant this really was to the mortals.
He wasn't really looking at the place though.
He himself had gotten used to the place over the last deccenium. The high ceilings, intricate paintings and overwhelming amount of ancient texts and scrolls were nothing exciting to him anymore although it was still a place he enjoyed residing in.
"So are you" He muttered softly now trailing behind the excited girl as she scittered around the Library.
She scoffed as she picked up a book from a shelf, "You are such a charmer" Morpheus got the feeling she didn't really understand the nature off his advances.
Nevertheless he shook the feeling off as he allowed his eyes to follow her form through the halls of the library. She was truly a sight to behold.
He picked up a scroll himself, reading through the ancient words.
He felt the presence of his loyal librarian before he saw her... "Lucienne" He muttered turning to the dark skinned figure now standing to his right.
"My lord" She said softly as they both stared at the now reading mortal. "May i ask why there is a human here?" Lucienne seemed a bit put off at the sight of the small smile circling her masters lips.
"This is the human that helped take down the infamous Richard Madoc." He just responded, fully expecting the familiarity instantly circling in her eyes.
Lucienne took a second before she nodded slightly and strolled forward toward the young woman. She was greeted with a smile.
~~~
Meg pov:
Meg didn't know how it happened, and she didn't know if she wanted to know what had happened. But somehow she had started to travel to 'the dreaming' every night...
Jup her mind could barely wrap around that.
After Morpheus had uhhh (Cursed? The kidnapper of Sarah into a coma, just hours before he would be released from his monitoring). He had taken her to the place to take her mind of the horrid scenario.
There she had spend hours reading books and basking in her friend's presence. Meg had even managed to make a new friend during these visits.
Jup the librarian Lucienne and her had hit it off quite nicely!
So she could say all was well.... until Lucienne took Morpheus aside one day, about a month after her first concious dreaming.
"Lord Morpheus!" The familiar figure of Lucienne stalked over to them in a subtle haste, she had a large scroll tucked under her arm and a concerned expression on her face
Morpheus turned to her in confusion, "What is it?" He just asked.
"You have been summoned to olympus by zeus, he talks of a matter of importance"
His eyes darkened at her words.
(Again! Hope you like it! Please comment if you do!)
Next chapter:
Part 2 (last chapter):
#morpheus x reader x calliope#morpheus x reader#morpheus#the sandman x reader#the sandman#calliope x reader#calliope x reader x morpheus#calliope#dream x reader#poly
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AITA for not talking about my past?
I (m ~1000) have made many mistakes in my life.
When I was a boy, I promised a snake (f ~1000) I would teach her a martial art my father created which she used to overthrow her ruler and put herself on the throne. I ended up defeating her with the help of my older brother (~1000), but she ended up swearing revenge on me.
I trained a young orphan boy, M, when he showed power. I thought he would fulfill a prophecy, but when the time came to see if he was, the weapons revealed he wasn't. So he swore he would find my father's grave and become the prophecized one. Then, he left me.
One day, the war between the humans and snakes started. We gathered all our allies to fight them, but after the war ended, a pair of twins grew power-hungry, believing themselves to be superior to us. We managed to take away their powers by trapping them in blades, but they jumped into a time vortex to escape punishment, though I saw when one of them would arrive, about 40 years into the future.
Over the years I gathered a group of students to fight against any threat that may appear, but i never told them any of these stories.
But my past came back to haunt me either way. M (teenager) came back as a ghost, now possessing my nephew L (teenager) as L was the prophecized one. I didn't know of M's death until then, but I had never mentioned my previous student to any of them. L got freed after some time, but it could have been prevented if I talked. I tried to learn from my mistakes and not show them the prophecy, but they still learned it too soon by accident regardless.
Next came the return of one of the twins, A (m adult). I didn't tell my students about him, nor did I tell him about his approaching arrival. Instead, I wanted to face him on my own. What a mistake that was. At first I had the upper hand, but with the arrival of one of the blades their powers were contained in, he gained the upper hand. Not only did they not recognize the threat when they arrived, but I had not prepared them for the powers the twins possessed, foolishly assuming I could take him on my own. Still, I didn't learn from it.
And now we come to my most recent failure. After another big fight against oni, my students had grown soft, lazing about for a long time. I sent them away to get back on track and do their duty, but they ended up releasing the snake who had sworn revenge on me. She ended up stealing one of my students (K, m teenager) powers and he blamed me for it.
And I feel terrible about it. I'm assuming I am TA, but my students are very forgiving. So I am asking you now
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Hybrid AU in exile week where avian instincts can take over to a degree that is almost horrific, erasing someone’s personality and rationality when they’re panicking. First part here.
Tommy is sick of being sat upon by some nut job avian he barely knows. It’s been days trapped under a Philza who doesn’t really register human words and mostly just coos whenever Tommy tries to cuss him out. Techno says it’s ‘cause Philza thinks he’s been hurt and needs to be protected, which like, yeah, fine sure, but not by Philza. Tommy already has a guardian. His abuser has to be insanely worried about him, especially after Philza assaulted them for no reason. But every time Tommy tries to escape he’s just dragged back and everything gets worse.
At least that part is familiar.
He’s forced to stay in that nest for days, and Tommy has never handled being cooped up well. Some part of him likes the weight of a parent roosting over him and the feeling of gentle hands combing through his wings and hair, but the overwhelming majority of his instincts just wants his abuser back. Techno is of absolutely no help, mostly since Philza keeps trying to murder him. But he sits in the corner and is open to chat, or read a book aloud to him to stave off some of the boredom. Best advice Techno has is that Philza will be normal again if he thinks his chick is safe and happy.
Hell no. Tommy is not feeding this guy’s delusions, especially when Techno reveals Tommy’s own feathers had been woven next to Philza’s in the nest long before Tommy’s abduction. A-grade creep behavior there. Besides, his abuser will come save him soon. Tommy is so acutely aware that he’ll never save himself.
But then it’s been days and he’s losing hope and just wants to go home, so desperately Tommy tries to figure out what Philza will register as a happy chick. Usually chirps just burst out of him, not something he controls at all, but with some struggle he forces out the little trill he made every time his abuser came home.
Something twists in Tommy’s chest as Philza echoes the joyful chirps at him. It feels horribly right, complete whereas with his abuser the greeting was never returned. That wasn’t his fault, he wasn’t an avian. Neither of them had known what was needed to soothe his instincts.
But it works. Philza blinks rapidly, pupils returning to normal. His gaze locks on Tommy, eyes filling with tears. “I’m so sorry he did this to you.” Philza wraps him in a warm hug. Juuust great. He was hoping to leave after Philza got over it. All he wants is to get back to his abuser, but when he says as much the embrace becomes a vice. Tommy naturally rejects Philza’s awful claims, growing more and more desperate as his abuser is slandered. First the absurd claim he somehow stopped Tommy from flying, like it wasn’t because Tommy was too weak and small to. And then it’s after him for not providing proper shelter at their nest, even though his abuser was trying to teach him to be responsible when he had Tommy make his shack. Then the lack of healing supplies, then the fact he was dying alone when Philza found him.
“No, it’s my fault I tried to fly when he was gone! He was there for me every time I was injured! Shut up, I can too prove it. Hard not to be there when he caused it half the time!”
For some unknowable reason, Philza doesn’t take that well. Neither does Techno, even when Tommy tries to explain they’re misinterpreting what he said, really it was Tommy’s fault, mistakes and the natural punishment for his actions. When he argues it wasn’t bad, Techno brings up the injuries a bit too old to heal when he used the potions. They try to get in his head, voicing all the thoughts in Tommy’s head before he plummeted and proved his abuser right.
Thing is, Tommy has flown before. It’s been awhile, but he has, when he was younger, knew the wondrous taste of its joy. With L’Manburg he’d been careful to fly below the walls so he didn’t get shot down. And it wasn’t possible in Pogtopia. And then after…it just seemed pointless. And now he can’t at all, and the only reason he can find is because he doesn’t deserve that joy.
Unless it was taken from him. Just like everything else, Tommy finally admits. Wearing an avian’s feathers is meant to be a promise to support them as surely as their own wings, and yet his abuser clipped his.
It’s hard, realizing he was only ever so weak because the man he trusted was sabotaging him the whole time. Twisting his instincts, forcing him to become a useless hatchling. Manipulating him so he could never fly to safety.
Tommy begins to sob.
Next>
#c!tommy#dsmp#dsmp fic#exile arc#exile week#tommyinnit#tommyinnit fanfic#Ctommy#hybrid au#philza#dsmp philza#cphilza#angel duo#angel duo fic#philza fic#philza fanfic#technoblade#dsmp techno#ctechno#emerald duo#bedrock bros#sbi#emerald duo fic#bedrock bros fic#sbi fic#tw abuse#sbi au#something to nom on
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hunting weaknesses
Your favorite hobby?
Leaving the door unlocked on purpose, he knew I was going to come out and I would find him sitting in his chair with a belt in his hand, ready to punish me.
A way I've never tasted before..
I was scared of being found out while I was trying to get the code to unlock the padlock, God I was scared to death until I did, I just had no idea it would make a noise that made him wake up.
The dog barking was enough to annoy him, I just forced the door and ran out, but not smart enough to run right, I ended up tripping and giving the killer the advantage, I could feel his body clinging to mine on the floor, his volume rubbing against my ass and when he whispered in my ear
"You made a big mistake, I'll make you swallow me until you can't take it anymore, I didn't tell you to run away from me"
Pulling me by the wrist, I went back like a slave to that basement, he pushed me on the bed and sat in front of me.
"Come on, I won't hurt you." he extends his hand, which meets my face, he takes his thumb to my lips, entering slowly, to intimidate, I'm sucking, the tension in that place it was unbearable.
He growled, grabbing my jaw and pulling me into a lingering kiss, our tongues tangling until we were breathless, he was squeezing his cock, he was so aroused it hurt.
Pulling his pants and underwear down to his knee, revealing his swollen cock, veins pulsing, a little gray fur on top, his extremely red, luscious glans made my heart flutter strong, taking me and kissing his full chest, smelling strongly his pubic hair, I was out of my mind, it was addictive, I felt him trembling inside my mouth, grabbing my hair, forcing your presence inside me.
His taste was wild, each rise and fall until he almost entered my throat made him moan hoarsely, I was taming the most dangerous man in town, his weakness was his immense desire to come.
His liquid was viscous, bitter as his soul, it filled my mouth, I was ready to refuse the sip, until I felt his strong hands closing my mouth, touching my throat from the outside, forcing me to take yours fluid, it was our connection, a part of him was in me, I was smeared with his desire.
You want more? I can give you.
#the grabber#albert shaw#albert shaw x reader#albert shaw x you#the grabber x reader#the black phone imagine#the grabber fanfiction#old man#imagines
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I was thinking about my post from yesterday, and what is infinitely more interesting to me than Brandon calling Helia a pacifist (somewhat out of spite) is the fact that Helia definitely heard him, and chose not to refute it. Instead, he decided to prove him wrong by being the only one who could actually hold back the monster. When you think about it, literally every scene which has Helia playing a big role involves him having to prove himself. Like with the whole Shaab stone thing, when some of the others are critical of his leadership. The interesting thing here, although, is the fact that he NEVER defends himself when people doubt his abilities, but sort of quietly does his own thing and people eventually grow to respect his abilities.
We can even see this as late as Season 6. When Helia feels like he’s let Flora down, he channels this energy into taking down a bunch of werewolves, instead of maybe accepting the fact that it is alright to not be perfect at everything. This is one of the reasons we barely see what’s going on with him, since he never seems to calculate his self-worth on the basis of how other people see him, it’s entirely based on how useful he feels.
What is fascinating and kind of hilarious about this is the fact that he technically could shut everyone up by going all out. This is why I love the idea of prodigy Helia, because this mentality is typical of highly gifted people, since you start to feel kind of dissociated from your own self and capacity, especially when people praise you. It’s uncomfortable, it’s like imposter syndrome but you’re both the imposter and the standard. In that episode in S6, when Icy freezes his heart, there’s something specific that Helia says that reveals a lot about the specific brand of darkness that bothers him. He picks a fight with Riven and says something along the lines of “it being time to put RIven in his place”. One could take that as a simple goading, but think about how quickly Helia beat Riven - at hand-to-hand combat, no less, something he has hardly engaged in throughout his time onscreen. Helia KNOWS he could easily beat any or at least most of the guys, but for the most part, he couldn’t be bothered to. I’ve not a whole lot of love for the later seasons of the show, but this episode was a great example of Helia’s relationship with heroics itself. He tells Riven to “get over” himself, really highlighting the fact that despite his fairly self-assured facade most of the time, he does harbour SOME frustration for the more showy aspects of the Specialists, since that is generally what leads to him getting overshadowed most of the time.
This isn’t to say that every decision he’s made is entirely rational, but it always seems to stem about of a need to prove to himself more than anyone else that what people say about him is wrong. THIS IS WHY HIS STRUGGLE IS UNIQUE. His insecurity is built on things that happen externally, but his focus when coping with it is completely internal. Similarly, when he makes mistakes that impact other people, he deals with it by punishing himself. This is so so fascinating because it’s somehow the exact opposite of Sky’s law-abiding heroism, and even Riven’s videogame-esque worldview. When he volunteered to save Sky, he was defo doubted. It makes sense, because even his self-assuredness seems to come from a somewhat unstable sense of self. Nobody knows what Helia’s deal is because he never really feels the need to prove himself unless it is absolutely required, and ofc it was required when Sky almost fell into oblivion. Same with the Shaab stone stuff. Helia the hero seems to have a different self-perception altogether from Helia the general dudeo.
I would think that after years of dealing with him, his friends and Flora will have realised this about him, and generally stay out of his way when he feels the need to prove something to himself. But the S6 incident is surprising to them because he’s never felt the need to prove his comparative worth, that he’s BETTER than anyone else, especially on his team. Riven is always ready for a fight we know, but getting there-is-nothing-friendly-about-friendly-fights Helia to a duel must have been exactly what he’d been waiting for so long, since even after all those years, nobody was probably still sure of what Helia’s actual skillset was. Again, SUCH A GIFTED PERSON THING TO DO. It also checks out that he’s so supportive of everyone else’s improvement while being great at what he does but still unsure of himself.
#this post is all over the place#why did i write this again i have two papers due#no but ma boi deserves some respect#he is the literal embodiment of a burnt out gifted child#some things i may disagree with tomorrow when im older and wiser#winx helia#winx specialists#winx riven
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