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ashessonfire · 1 year

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Hello, i have a potential kaz x reader request for you!! I, for some reason, love the idea of a very soft/domestic kaz moment with reader who isn’t involved in the crime life. So what about y/n being married to kaz and for some reason she makes her way down to the crow club (maybe someone broke into the house or something) and kaz is extreamly confused and concerned and the rest if the crows are like "andddd who are you?"

if you don't feel it, feel free to ignore!

'Intruder' - Kaz Brekker x reader

Prompt - Kaz is a highly secretive man, even to his closest friends, but what happens when a panicked citizen rushes into the Crow Club demanding his presence? It could even suggest that he had the ability to love. - Pairing: Kaz Brekker x Civilian!Reader (Gender neautral)(married for at least a few years but not specified) - Warnings: Thief enters readers house, brief mention of fighting and injury, a knife?? Kaz just being super soft for you! <333 PART TWO NOW POSTED! (click here) - A/N: Thank you for ALL the love on the last post, and my first fic ever! I hope this does just as well and its enjoyed too. I know its not as fluffy as maybe expected but i really like how it turned out. PLEASE KEEP REQUESTING!!(some moonknight coming soon) <3333

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The chilling wind of Ketterdam rushed past your face, adding to your already watering eyes that couldn’t stop frantically searching around for further threats.

You had been enjoying a quiet morning, browsing the market, drinking tea with friends, and even finding a new hat for Kaz. All was serene, until you turned the lock in the front door, only to be confronted by a menacing figure, knife gripped in one hand, Kaz’s favourite (and most expensive) tea set in the other.

A small gasp escaped you, before your mind took control, rushing forward to land a harsh blow directly on the figure’s nose, just at the right angle like Kaz had demonstrated.

He let out a murderous scream whilst dropping the tea set onto the ground, the shattering of the pieces echoing in your heart and mind. However, this granted you enough time to grab the edge of his jacket and pull him through the doorframe, using every ounce of your strength.

He stumbled down the steps of the small apartment, loosing his footing and falling rapidly, landing brutally on the cobblestone street below and roaring in pain as a jolting crack resounded from where he landed.

Without thinking, you scrambled inside, bolted the door, and ran as fast as you possibly could out of the side entrance, internally crying as your boots struggled through the remains of your husband's most beloved item.

As you struggled through the tight alleyway, you prayed that the Stadwatch had noticed the commotion and apprehended the man. As you bolted down the poorly lit streets of the barrel, thoughts of terror began plaguing your mind.

What if Kaz hadn’t taught you to defend yourself? What if you had reacted too slowly? Would Kaz be angry with you for not finishing the job? How would ‘Dirtyhands’ react to your utter horror at one intruder?

You were abruptly ripped from your thoughts by the unmistakable image of a crow, hanging magnificently above the crowded street. Pushing your way through the crowd, you suppressed the nerves rising in your chest, threatening to choke you, as you entered the crow club for the first time.

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The unmistakable smell of alcohol and smoke clouded your senses immediately, as crowds of ‘pigeons,’ as Kaz may call them, wandered around the floor without a care for others around them.

As frightening as the previous events had been, you didn’t allow yourself to be overwhelmed by this too, shoving your violently shaking hands into your pockets to stop the visible nerves from showing.

Jesper and Wylan sat in close proximity at the bar edge, as far from the yelling and cheering of the customers as they possibly could. Your gazed locked onto the face of the tall Zemeni man, thinking back to the hundreds of times Kaz’s mask had slipped, and he had spoken fondly of his best friend.

Despite Kaz’s firm objection to verbal communication, he often fell victim to your warmth and comfort, his affections for his crew spilling into casual conversation, almost subconsciously. Of course, the Bastard of the Barrel couldn’t hold onto something as weak as friendship. However, this meant that you were very familiar with each of his ‘crows,’ despite never officially meeting any of them.

Mustering all the courage you could, you sucked in a sharp breath, preparing yourself for the challenging journey to your last hope at finding him.

You weaved your way cautiously between the rowdy groups, dodging drunken gestures and swinging arms, until you reached the pair sat at the bar, panic spreading through your body like wildfire. You made note to keep your hands firmly tucked within the safety of your jacket, in a feeble attempt to keep up a façade of confidence.

As their gazes turned towards you, you gently cleared your throat in the hopes of removing any indication of fright, and in turn, weakness from your voice.

“I’m looking for Kaz? Kaz Brekker?” you stuttered out, eyes darting around to avoid the quizzical gazes of the two men in front of you. Under different circumstances you wished to have met them when your usual air of joy blanketed not only you, but all of those who encountered you too. Yet it seemed like the Saints weren't on your side for that wish today.

You were snapped back from your thoughts, as they glanced at each other, sharing an unspoken but clear sense of bewilderment between them at your odd request. Often drunken pigeons, or rough street urchins would request to see the boss, but it wasn’t a common sight to see a regularly dressed citizen in such a state demanding an audience with Mr Brekker himself.

“I’m afraid it’s pretty difficult to get a meeting with the boss, always busy you know?” spoke the man you assumed to be Jesper, in a kind but skeptical tone, swirling the drink in his hand as he failed to decipher the reason for your visit.

Panic began to claw its way deeper into your chest, as you quickly blurted out “Please, its important, I need to see Kaz. Please bring me to see him.” The sudden outburst once again surprised the men, however Wylan’s gaze softened at the clear desperation on your features, and Jesper’s confusion morphed into something that resembled pity.

Wylan subtly leaned into Jesper, whispering “I think you should take her, she seems pretty desperate?” causing Jesper to let out a sigh before meeting your gaze yet again.

Reluctantly, Jesper stood up, stretching his limbs well, before letting out a dramatic sigh, followed by a feigned annoyance at the request, analyzing you for a moment before stating, “Let’s go see the boss then.”

He quickly turned back to you, flashing a lopsided, yet winning grin, which put to rest some of the bubbling anxiety that was becoming inescapable. As you ascended the stairs to his office, a skeptical looking woman glanced curiously up at the three of you, hopping out of her chair to trail behind you, whilst stuffing the remains of what looked like a waffle into her mouth.

Before you could inquire about the third individual following your small group, you were suddenly met with the dark oak door of Kaz Brekker’s office. Jesper shot another reassuring grin back at you, as he rapidly knocked on the office door and let himself in before an answer called out.

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The instant you saw your husband, the tears glossed over your eyes, shining with a dangerous threat of escaping. However, to your surprise, you were able to win the valiant battle for a little longer.

You knew how vital it was for your husband to keep his personal life separated from his work life; one wrong move, and you could end up in the hands of another gang, tortured in exchange for information on the Dregs. This knowledge was what kept you from barreling towards his desk without a second thought, with even the smallest slip from Jesper potentially ruining every bit of yours and Kaz’s struggle to break down his walls.

Kaz sat at his desk at the centre of the bleak room, a faint patch of light hitting his face from a glowing street lantern, casting deep shadows across his sharp features. His shoulders tensed as he remained solely focused on the blueprint in front of him, his harsh glare at the sheet almost seemed as if he was planning to murder it. Perhaps if you weren’t so shaken you may have let out a soft laugh at his pure concentration.

“What is it? I have no time for irrelevant interruption, this marksheet needs to be completed before twelve bells tonight,” A sharp voice suddenly cut through the thick silence. Jesper cleared his throat before confronting his boss, shifting his weight between each foot at the temper that Kaz was evidently displaying.

“Well, you see, I was sitting downstairs with Wylan at the bar, when all of a sudden…” Jesper started, but was cut off by a deadly look from Kaz to get to the point. As his gaze shot upwards towards the sharpshooter, he finally noticed the second figure in the room and his heart plummeted.

Why were you here?

Kaz’s mind began spinning, grasping for any logical reason as to why you were in the one of the most dangerous staves of the Barrel, requiring his assistance.

An identical panic to yours seized his chest as he inspected your state, your hair was windswept, eyes glossed over and glinting with a touch of fear, a visible shake to your arms and legs, which he had been fortunate enough to never experience until now.

You looked utterly terrified.

A single murderous look was enough for Jesper to throw his hands up in defense, and saunter quietly out of the room, glancing curiously back at the two of you as he shut the door. Jesper thought to himself that his life in the long run would be far more valuable than the price of his curiosity now.

Although Kaz is a man of few words, he seemed truly speechless, barely managing to register his own steps as he moved slowly towards you, each limp bringing his comfort closer and closer to you. Once he had reached your figure, he noticed you had curled in on yourself, hands clasped firmly together in front of you, and eyes darting rapidly around his face, searching for something, as it appeared to him.

He slowly reached towards you, and with a gloved hand, tenderly unwound your fingers from their iron grip, instead intertwining them with his own to bring you comfort and slow your light but swift breathing. Kaz remained tight-lipped, words rushing through his head, yet not formulating into any combination which he thought would be appropriate to calm you down.

He gazed intensely into your eyes, softening with each moment as he took in your shaken state, something that was rare due to his exceptional ability to keep you away from his violent life.

Until now.

Yet you had taught him not to run anymore when he encounters challenges, leading him to battle his mind later, and care for you in the present. Plus, you had the courage to make your way through the barrel in this condition, the least he could do was give you his everything.

You released a long, shaky sigh, staring only at Kaz’s chest now in order to match your breaths, imagining that your hearts were beating together too. You knew Kaz was struggling to find a grip within his thoughts, fingers twitching against your own as his body worked overtime, in a way it only did for you.

Several minutes passed in a strange silence, as the pair of you basked in each other's presence, the close distance allowing both of you to be assured the other is safe and within reach, yet the tension and anxiety still buzzed through the air.

“Someone broke in, I’m not sure who or from where. Tried to steal your favorite tea set, you know the one you brought back from Ravka once? I hit him square like you said. But it, but it boke. Shattered actually. It gave me enough time to run, but I don’t know. He may have followed or…” you suddenly burst out, the emotions flowing out of you through your words, and soon to follow were the tears.

You were cut off in your rambling however, as a feather-light kiss graced your temple, drawing you into a pool of warmth, suddenly able to feel the heat of the fire and the glow of the candles that surrounded Kaz’s office, likely gifts of yours.

Although Kaz’s voice was hardened, you knew he was holding back significantly to soothe you, building up wrath to unleash on the unfortunate man who entered your house earlier. The claws of the anxiety released their hold on you, allowing you to breathe deeply for the first time in hours.

“I’m here, darling, and you don’t need to think about that anymore,” he eventually breathed out, “I'll take care of it. I promise. I promise you,” he whispered against your forehead, again leaving the faintest outline of a kiss on the soft skin.

Whilst he was nowhere near healed, over the years you had opened up his deepest wounds and started to stitch them up, with each moment the pain easing ever so slightly. Direct touches were now common, with light pecks, or hand holding being Kaz's most favored actions.

Sometimes if you were lucky, you could get a short kiss on the lips, or a long hug through the safety of many layers; each being evident signs of his love for you, and how you were truly the only one to crack the code to the Bastard of the Barrel's heart.

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Kaz didn’t leave your side for the remainder of the night, bringing you anything you asked for, sitting the armchair closer to his desk to keep him company, hands held tightly until he deemed it safe enough to escort you home.

Wrapping you warmly with his largest coat, he gently placed his best hat atop your head, offering a small smile and breathy laugh as it tilted at an angle. Looking up to meet his gaze, you returned the grin, smile spreading to your eyes and cheeks. Kaz carefully adjusted the edges of the coat to obscure your face, being thorough in the process to avoid any identification of who was accompanying him.

As the door clicked open, and the pair stepped into the hallway, pinkies interlinked, a group of three snooping crows barreled backwards, hitting into each other and the walls. Kaz sent a deathly glare at each of them, as they stood in shock at the sight before them, Jesper gasping, Wylan gaping with fright, and Nina's smirk widening by the second.

After a series of extreme threats hurled at the group outside his office, Kaz pushed past them and dragged you with him, turning his coat collar upwards to hide the growing embarrassment colouring his face.

He crushed the feeling down, instead turning to his internal plotting to enact revenge on your behalf, inwardly smirking at the image of the man begging him for mercy as he pays for his offence in blood.

Meanwhile, Nina stood grinning to herself, proud of her newfound knowledge which she was certain she could use against Kaz at some point soon. Because from that office, she not only heard the hammering heart of the poor citizen girl, but also the one of a love-struck gang leader too.

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#kaz brekker imagine #kaz brekker x reader fluff #kaz brekker #kaz brekker x reader imagines #kaz brekker x reader #six of crows x reader #six of crows imagine #six of crows #shadow and bone imagine #shadow and bone season 2 #shadow and bone #shadow and bone x reader #kaz brekker x you #kaz brekker x y/n

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daydreaming-nerd · 2 months

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Implode (Azriel X Female! Reader)

Summary: You were an anomaly. 300 years ago you fell from the sky, a star personified, taking the form of a High Fae. When Rhysand found you and realized your power you became a part of his inner circle. It wasn’t until years later that you realized that his spymaster was your mate. Still the question lingered in your mind leaving you never fully satisfied, “Why am I here?” Perhaps the losing battle with Hybern would answer that.

A/N: Just thought I would take some time and get some Azriel on the masterlist! And hey look I wrote something where they don’t suck and fuck. But don’t get used to it, as a scorpio it ain’t really my style.

Warnings: Heavy angst, alludes to smut (you knew there was gonna be a lil somethin it’s Azriel for christ sake), blood, I wrote this in the middle of the night so probably grammar mistakes

Words count: 4646

(All pictures are from pinterest)

The war with Hybern was an ongoing one, and one that’s been hundreds of years in the making. So far the Night Court had yet to engage but I could feel Rhysand growing restless. Velaris was safe, but for how much longer? A few months ago he talked about taking the fight to Hybern, sooner rather than later, in order to try and protect his civilians. As his third in command I agreed with him.

I became Rhysand’s third in command several years ago after finally earning his trust. I wasn’t always part of his beloved inner circle, in fact when I fell from the sky I spent the first month on Prythian in the Hewn City dungeons. Rhys wanted to know why I had fallen into his court, but the truth was I didn’t know. The only memory I had was an image of the night sky, followed by falling, and then Azriel found me in the grass. Of course this wasn’t a good enough answer for the High Lord but after Rhysand finally realized that I was telling the truth about where I was from. We spent the next several years trying to figure out how it could be but found nothing.

Nevertheless I grew to love Velaris and the place I now called home. I loved late night drinks with Mor, decorating the townhouse with Cassian for Solstice, talking politics with Rhysand, teasing the others with Amren, but most of all I loved Azriel.

Even though Azriel was the one who found me, the bond didn’t snap into place right away. I had always had an affinity for the Illyrian, and even though I was once a non-sentient being, I knew that by all standards he was gorgeous. He seemed to have the same attraction to me as well, though we never acted on it. It wasn’t until a drunken night at Rita’s about 100 years after he found me that we realized we were mates.

The inner circle had gotten together for dinner, and dinner had turned into a couple bottles of wine and a couple turned into way too many. Azriel and I had been throwing flirty glances back and forth all night, finally having the liquid courage to do so. I ended up being the first to leave that night and of course Azriel offered to fly me home…

“There is no way you’re walking home, not in those shoes,” Azriel laughed.

“What’s the matter with my shoes?” I protest swigging the last sip of my wine.

“You’re gonna bust your ass starchild,” Cassian said using my nickname he gave me years ago.

“I most certainly am not!” I slur. I go to stand up from the booth to prove my point and nearly topple over causing the table to shift and Mor to spill some of her wine. The whole group erupted in laughter.

“Come on y/n, I’ll fly you home,” Azriel chuckled, rising from the booth.

I braced myself on his shoulder to slip the stilettos off my feet so I could hold them in my hands. The second my bare feet hit the ground I was reminded by how much larger he was than me, and in my wine drunk state my stomach bottomed out in arousal. I waved goodbye to everyone as Az led me out of the small club.

“Tonight was fun,” I smiled drunkenly, my feet touching the cold wet cobblestones just outside Rita’s. I started to wobble a bit when Azriel grabbed me by my waist and hauled me up. All I could do was look into his golden eyes as I felt his hand spread across the bare skin there from my backless dress.

I didn’t think twice before grabbing him by the collar and pulling him in for a kiss. The second I did it I realized what I had done, and I would’ve panicked if it had not been for the moan that fell from his lips as I pulled back. His other hand hit my waist pulling me closer to him making me stand on my tip toes. I felt my back hit the wall outside Rita’s as he deepened the kiss.

“God I’ve wanted to do this for so long,” he groans, grip tightening on my waist.

“Then what’s keeping you from doing it again, Shadowsinger?” I smirk.

“Not a damn thing,” he smiled, connecting our lips again.

I was a mess of pure lust, because just like him, I had been dying to do this for years. Even dreaming about it on several occasions. But to have it happening was the most intense feeling I had ever known. My head was so clouded with need that I barely felt his mouth leave mine to kiss my neck. I tangled my hands in his hair pulling him closer and he reached his hands under my legs and picked me up so I wouldn’t have to strain to meet him.

He kissed a spot on my neck that was particularly sensitive, coaxing a moan from my mouth that drove him so wild he bit me. That was the moment we felt it. That mating bond snapping into place. He whipped his head back to meet my eyes, looking to see if I had felt it too.

“Oh my gods,” I breathed.

“We’re mates,” he stated though his own ragged breaths.

“Yes, mates,” I choked out, my brain still too cloudy to say anything as I searched his face for a sign of dread. Maybe he didn’t want to be mated, to me.

A smile broke his lips as he pressed his forehead to mine, “We’re mates,” he said again like he was trying to assure himself it was true.

“We are,” I giggled, happy to see that he was okay with this, that he wanted it as much as I did.

“You’re my mate,” he smiled, brushing stray hair from my face.

“Your mate,” I laughed joyously, pressing a quick kiss to his lips. I heard the door to Rita’s swing open.

“I knew it!” Mor screamed drunkenly. “I knew they were secretly dating, Cassian, you owe me 50 gold!”

“Not dating, mates.” Azriel barked proudly.

“Ha! Mor you owe me 100 gold now!” Rhysand laughed at Mor.

“That’s too bad Az I was hoping y/n could give me a ride later,” Cassian taunted earning a possessive growl from Azriel. The whole group laughed.

Needless to say Azriel flew me to the cabin in the Illyrian mountains that night and we didn’t leave for two weeks straight.

…that was years ago and since then our family has had new additions like Rhysand’s mate Feyre and her sisters. One thing hadn’t changed though, me and Azriel’s mated bliss.

I was waiting in the townhouse living room with the entire inner circle to talk about war plans. Well, most of the inner circle, Cassian and Azriel had taken a trip to inform the Illyrians that war was indeed coming and had been gone for a week.

“Thanks again for the wine, Rhys!” I smile, holding up my glass and clinking it to Mor’s.

“I don’t think you’re supposed to thank the person you stole the wine from,” he rolls his eyes.

“Maybe not, but it makes me feel less guilty about it,” I laugh while taking another swig. I sit and observe Rhys watching Feyre’s every movement, feeling warm and fuzzy from seeing him so happy.

Almost as if in response a shadow brushes down my cheek and I see Rhysand’s eyes flit up behind me with a smirk. I turn in my chair to find Azriel leaning in the doorway.

“Az!” I yell, jumping up and thrusting my wine glass into Mor’s hand. He gives me a knowing smile as I jump into his arms.

“I missed you too, my little star,” he smiled holding me close.

Cassian walked in just moments after and we joined the others in the living room. The second we were seated, and Rhysand stood to address us, it was like all the joy was sucked out of the room. We all knew how serious the topic was, and how even though we had spent many months avoiding it, it had finally come to call.

“I’ve heard reports that Hybern’s army is gathering, and it’s bigger than we expected,” Rhys stated.

“How much bigger?” Amren inquired.

“We once believed his army to be 70,000 men, now we know that it's over 100,000.” he replied grimly. My heart sank at his words.

“Well what did Devlon say?” I ask Azriel.

“He said that the Illyrians would fight, but if Hybern has an army of over 100,000 it’s still cutting it close.” Az replied.

“How close are they to being fully assembled?” Cassian asks.

A beat of silence passes and Rhys looks to Feyre, “By the end of this week they will be on Prythian soil, maybe next week if we are lucky.” he divulges.

“What if we called upon Bryaxis? The Bone Carver? The Attor? They might come to our aid.” Feyre pointed out and I didn’t miss the wince from Cassian at the mention of Bryaxis.

“That could help,” Rhysand nodded. “But there’s no telling what they’ll do once the battle starts.”

“But it’s worth a shot is it not?” Mor urged.

“We can look into it,” Rhysand nodded once more.

The rest of the night was filled with more talk of strategy and thinking of potential allies to call upon, but in the end Feyre’s suggestion was the best one. We all left the townhouse feeling more somber that night, something that rarely happened when we were all gathered together. Azriel flew us home and neither of us said anything. I thought about what Rhys had said, and how we were resorting to calling upon monsters to come to our aid. It wasn’t until after Azriel showered that he finally spoke up.

“You have no idea how good it feels to be home,” he groaned, flopping on the bed. I had slipped into one of my nightgowns and was sitting under the covers reading my book.

“I’m glad you’re home,” I smiled, running a hand through his wet hair. He plucked my bookmark for where it was beside me and placed it in my open book. A habit that he picked up years ago when he grabbed my book from out of my hand in exchange for a kiss and didn’t bookmark where I was. I had never been so furious with the man.

“Come here you,” he said, tossing my book to the side and pulling me into his chest. I giggled as he wrapped his arms around me, and breathed in. “You smell so good,” he practically groans.

“You mean I don’t smell like a sweaty Illyrian?” I chuckle, pressing a kiss to his bare chest.

“Yes, precisely,” he laughs, looking down at me with love and adoration. “Have I ever told you that you get kind of glowy at night? Like you literally have a faint glow about you.”

“Well I am a star,” I smile, pulling my hand out of the cocoon he has me in to let some starlight dance off my fingers.

“How could I ever forget,” he smiles, pressing a kiss to my brow.

A moment of silence passes and I can’t help but think about the war again, this time I don’t keep quiet about my fears.

“What do you think we’re going to do about Hybern?” I whisper.

“I don’t know,” he admits. “All we can do is hope that our allies come.”

“But even then, will it be enough?” I ask.

“It might be, but there’s no telling.” he states honestly.

“Could this really be the end of everything? Everything we’ve ever known will be ripped away from us. Velaris, our family, the two of us.” I confess.

“Hey,” he coos, taking my face in his hands, “Don’t think like that. We’re going to figure this out. I won’t let anything hurt you.”

“And who’s going to take care of you?” I ask, tears brimming my eyes.

“Rhys and Cassian,” he says. I know he feels my fear too, that he’s trying to put on a brave face for his mate. But the fact of the matter is that this is war, and not everyone is coming home. Part of me wants to interrogate further, but I know no matter how many times I ask or rephrase the question, I’m going to get the same answer. Because at the end of the day, neither of us knows what is going to happen.

So I just burrow my head into his chest and say, “Don’t you dare leave me Az.”

"Never mate, never."

That night I dream of clashing swords and soaring Illyrians. I hear war cries and screams of agony. I see blood and mud and bodies skewed across a battlefield. I smell death and decay and burnt flesh. I feel dread and despair. But then there is a blinding light, and there is peace and I hear nothing at all.

I wake the next morning from my dream and slip of out Azriel’s grasp, thankful that he was so tired from the trip from Windhaven that he doesn’t even stir. I get dressed and make my way to Rhysand’s town house. It had taken me all morning to realize what I had been shown in my dream, what it meant. I could only hope that my High Lord would understand it as I did.

I reach his office door and hesitate to knock. I don’t know why, I’ve known the man for hundreds of years. Eventually I do.

“Come in,” Rhysand beckons.

I step in and immediately wish I had kept my mental shields up, I feel Rhys probe my mind and catch a small glimpse of my thoughts. Before he can speak I cut in first.

“We need to talk to Rhys,” I say curtly.

“No y/n we aren’t having this conversation,” he dismisses me turning back to his papers.

“Rhys, I can end this war,” I argue.

“I won’t let you, not in the way you are thinking right now,” he bristles.

“Rhys, listen to me! I can take out the king and half of his army before he even lands a blow on you guys!” I inform him.

“How?” he stops and asks in a demeaning fashion.

I take a deep breath and take a step closer to him. “What do stars do when they die Rhys?” I say slowly.

A deafening silence fills the room, and I see his violet eyes fill with an understanding and realization.

“They explode,” he states.

“And they take Hybern and half of his army with them,” I reiterate, bracing my arms against his desk.

“You would die though,” he states in a way that’s more like a question.

“Yes I would die,” I confirm.

“You would do that to Azriel?” he asks, not believing what I was saying.

“No, but I would do it for him,” I say earnestly.

“Absolutely not, I won’t let Azriel lose his mate.” he says and it sounds more like an order.

I don’t flinch. I knew Rhysand would say this so I continue with my already prepared speech. “You’ll change your mind. When you realize you have more to lose than you originally thought. When you realize that your mate’s life hangs in the balance. That all you’ve gained lies in the balance. You’ll change your mind, and I’ll be ready when you do.”

“So I’m supposed to sacrifice you to save myself? Sacrifice Azriel’s mate to save my own?” he argues.

“You’re not sacrificing me. I’m choosing this. Choosing to give Azriel a chance to live. A chance at life… My final gift, to him, to all of you.” I start. “My whole life, it has never made sense as to why I’m here. Why a star fell from the sky and just happened to find Azriel. But now it does, this was the reason.” I explain.

There’s another silence in the room as Rhysand takes in all that I’ve said. My explanation for being here. Because I was right, it never did make sense that I would be a star personified. Yet here I was.

“You shouldn’t have to do this,” he says sadly, seemingly accepting that this might be the only chance he has to save Prythian.

“This is war Rhys, not a fairytale. Sacrifices must be made, for the greater good.” I say firmly.

“How are we supposed to tell Azriel this plan?” he asks, running a hand through his hair, stress evident on his face.

I know that everything I’ve told Rhys up until this point has angered and hurt him, but I have one last bandage to rip off, “We’re not going to tell him,” I deadpan.

“Y/n you know-”

“That he won’t let me do this?” I cut him off. “Yes I do. That’s why we can’t tell him. I’ve made my choice, telling him won’t change anything. But it will taint the time we have left together. Let us have this last little bit of time and then I will end this war so that you can have more.” I plead.

Rhys doesn’t say anything as he once again takes in my words. But I see the acceptance in his demeanor as he stands up and walks around his desk. He doesn’t speak, he just pulls me into his arms and hugs me. I throw my arms around him as a tear falls from my face.

“You are the bravest person I’ve ever known. I can never repay you for your sacrifice, all I can do is promise you that you will forever be honored and remembered in this court,” he says and I can feel him crying.

“But there is something you can do,” I say.

“What? I’ll do anything.” he backs away to look me in the eye.

“Don’t let my sacrifice go to waste. Make sure that Azriel lives when all this is said and done.” I beg him, a tear slipping from my eye.

The war comes quickly after that. or perhaps it just feels like it does because my life is suddenly on a timer. It isn't long until Hyberns forces gather on the shores of Prythian. We gather the Night Court's Army, the Illyrians and all the allies we can and march to meet them.

The war camp is a mess of fires, blades and soldiers of every kind. I’m practically glued to Azriel’s side, not only because I’m trying to soak up every lasting moment with him, but because he said, and I quote, “I would rather die than leave my devastatingly beautiful mate alone in a campsite full of war bound men looking for one last lay before the battlefield.”

The night before the battle Azriel made love to me in our tent, neither of us daring to say that it could be the last time we would ever get to lie with one another. Only Rhysand and I knew about the plan. It was too risky to tell anyone else, and like I had explained to Rhys before, I didn't want Azriel and I’s last days together to be tainted with constant tears. If I was going to die, I wanted us to be us.

That’s how we found ourselves here, at the front lines, our entire army behind us. Thankfully we were on top of a hill giving us somewhat of an upper hand. Bryaxis, The Bone Carver, and The Attor had in fact come to our aid, giving them the upperhand to deal with those who went unaffected by my blast. As we looked out over Hybern’s army that was a little over 400 yards away I couldn’t help but to cower into Azriel’s side. I looked to see Feyre doing the same to Rhys behind us. He made eye contact with me, and as I heard Hybern’s army in the background I knew it was time.

I stepped away from Azriel’s side and faced him. Took in every single curve of his face, and the way that his eyes caught the sun. I ran my hand down his cheek and he gave me a half smile. I prayed to whoever was listening, that I would remember his face. That wherever I went next I would have the ability to remember every moment I got to share with him in this world, and be grateful for what a gift it was.

“Whatever happens out there today,” I start to say. “I want you to know that I love you. I know I’ve said it a million times, but I could’ve said it more, should have. And I want you to know that you were the greatest gift I’ve ever known, and that if this was all the time we had, I’m grateful for every moment of it. I was lucky enough to find you in this world, I promise to find you in every other one.” I tell him, a tear going down my face as I throw my arms around his neck.

I can feel him smile into my shoulder as he says, “I love you too mate.”

I hold him tightly for the last time and open my eyes to find Rhys staring at me waiting for the signal. “Now,” I mouth to Rhys and he uses his magic to restrain Azriel. I slip one of Azriel’s daggers out his pocket, being sure to avoid Truth Teller, and I turn around and begin to walk down the hill towards Hybern’s Army.

Rhys and I had spent plenty of time coming up with the plan. I had to arrive at the battlefield without weapons, just leathers. I had never used weapons before, having always relied solely on my magic. It would’ve raised suspicion if I had brought any. We made sure our army was far enough away that with the efforts of Rhysand’s wards and the distance, the blast wouldn’t impact our own forces. I walked down to the army alone, appearing as though I am coming as an emissary to speak to them, after all I was just a tiny female, what harm could I do?

I walked with my chin held high, trying to appear as if I was a collected soldier coming to speak on behalf of my general. It was the hardest and longest walk of my life, as no matter how hard I tried I couldn’t drown out the screams of my mate behind me.

“Y/N WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!” Azriel screamed, his voice already horse. “RHYS LET ME GO SHE’S GOING DOWN THERE ALL BY HERSELF!”

I shudder at his words and try to keep a stiff upper lip as I get closer to Hybern’s army.

“HE’S GOING TO KILL HER, LET ME GO!” Azriel growled, a voice so deadly it could only belong to a male who’s mate was in danger.

As I get even closer I see the King of Hybern emerge from the army readying himself to receive my message.

“CASSIAN COMMAND THE ARMY TO OPEN FIRE!” Azriel pleads and I can hear him struggling against Rhys’ power.

“Cassian hold our position!” Rhysand bellows.

“Rhys what the fuck?!” Cassain shouts.

“THAT’S AN ORDER GENERAL!” Rhysand screams, sounding more like a High Lord than ever before.

I approach Hybern, dagger hidden behind me, lodged in my belt.

“PLEASE THAT’S MY MATE!”

I stand before the army.

“Have you come to surrender little one?” The King of Hybern croons, earring a laugh from his surrounding Generals and Captains.

“No, I’ve come to end you,” I muse.

I take a deep breath and pull the dagger from behind me and plunge it through my heart. The last thing I hear is Azriel’s scream before blinding white light erupts from me, and then I don’t feel anything at all.

Azriel:

The battle is easily won but at what cost? After y/n put that dagger through her heart more than half of Hybern’s army was wiped off the face of the earth. The battle was bloody but short and in the aftermath I found myself searching the field for my little star, my mate.

“Y/N!” I scream for her, voice torn.

I scan my surroundings looking for any glimpse of her, but I don’t see her, and I don’t feel her anymore either. She’s not gone, she’s not gone, she’s not gone, I keep telling myself.

“Y/N!” I scream again as I continue to look.

I keep flying until I see her. She has about a three foot blast radius around her where not even the grass is still growing, and her small form is lying there, unmoving. I slam into the ground and run toward her.

“No, no, no, no!” I curse as I fall to my knees before her. She’s covered in blood and mud from being trampled.

I take her into my arms and she’s so cold. So small and so cold.

“Baby please wake up,” I cry, brushing her hair out of her face. “Come on, you said you wouldn’t leave me!”

I sense Rhys and Cassian landing behind me and I can hear Feyre’s sobs.

“Please, please, please baby I can’t live without you,” I press my forehead to hers.

I cry and I beg for what feels like hours, but she doesn’t wake up. I reach inside me to tug at the bond, my last ditch effort to bring her back, but when I reach inside myself there’s nothing there.

At first there was nothing, just Azriel’s scream echoing in my brain and then there was silence. But now flickering in the distance I saw him, saw my mate, and I knew then and there that this was the cauldron’s last gift to me.

“Azriel,” I sang into the void like subspace.

“Y/n?” he asked, unsure of what was happening. He was wearing his pants he always wore to bed, which meant I was seeing him in his dream.

“Yes it’s me Az,” I smile, tears brimming my eyes.

“I’m just dreaming right?” he asks again.

“No,” I laugh walking over to him, grabbing him by his forearms. “It’s really me. I’m here somehow.”

“Oh my gods, I’ve missed you so much,” he breaks, voice cracking as he hugs me tight.

“How long has it been since the battle?” I ask.

“A little over a week,” he says standing back so he can look at me. “Why y/n? Why did you do it?”

I nearly broke at his words, “This was always the plan Az, we just didn’t know it till now.” I explain.

“What do you mean?” he asks.

“I think the universe knew that I was supposed to save you. That’s why I fell from the sky, that’s why you found me. Why the cauldron made us mates.” I tell him, tears falling from my eyes as my hand wipes away his.

“Why didn’t you tell me though?” he cries.

“Would you have let me sacrifice myself if I did?” I ask. “I wanted my last few days with you to be as normal as they could be.”

Silent tears fall from his eyes, “But what do I do without you?”

“You live Azriel,” I smile. “You were the greatest joy I ever knew Az. I did this so you could live, with Cassian and Rhys. I told you I would find you in every world, you still have things to do in your world, but I’ll find you in this one too when your time comes.”

“How do I live without you?”

“You never will, I am a star after all.”

#azriel x reader fluff #azriel x you #azriel x reader #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x reader angst #azriel angst

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oepionie · 1 year

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BELOVED BAT-WIFE. lilia vanrouge

Characters: Lilia Vanrouge x Fem! Reader, Platonic! Sebek x Fem! Reader

Synopsis: Lilia's wife makes an impromptu visit at NRC. Sebek is dragged into this mess and has to help her sneak into the campus.

A/N:: This is the first fic I've written in years!

Tags: Fluff, Established relationship, Maybe a bit OOC?, Reader is not Yuu and is said to be a mage

Word Count: 800+|💌Masterlist | Batwife masterlist

"Lady Vanrouge! When you told me you planned to visit, this wasn't what I had in mind!" Sebek hissed, staring at you through the gate's frame. He responded to your SMS asking him to meet you at the school gates as soon as possible. Despite the fact that it was two in the morning, he ran to your position right away. How he arrived in under 10 minutes is remarkable.

"I did say it was a last-minute decision." Shaking your head, you pulled the hood to your robe up and slipped on a pair of leather gloves. Indeed, you did send Sebek a letter to inform him of your plans beforehand. Leaving out the fact that you planned to sneak in like some petty thief.

"Now hold this gate steady for me, ok?"

Sebek's eyes practically sprang out of his head when you started climbing the tall gate. He yelled at you to be careful as he grasped the gate with both hands, firmly grasping the metal bars. You easily climbed to the top and laughed as you tossed yourself to the opposite side. Shrieking, Sebek ran to catch you, nearly toppling over from the force.

"Nice catch, my boy!" You grinned, patting his shoulder and setting yourself down. Sebek heaved, kneeling over and pressing a palm over his chest to calm his racing heart from the stunt you just pulled.

"You-Lady Vanrouge-!" Sebek started. "You're a mage! Why would you do that!"

"Teleporting or flying would definitely be easier…but that's boring~" You drawled, a cheeky grin on your face.

"Now, which way is that mirror again? It's been ages since I last set foot on this campus-literally!"

You linked both your arms together and began to pull the boy towards the academy, ignoring any and all of his complaints.

"I really think we shouldn't be doing this." Sebek muttered, begrudgingly pushing the doors to the mirror chamber open. You both slid inside, the door behind you closing with a snap.

It was already late at night, and the moon shone through the windows, its light reflecting off the mirrors. You took a step closer to Diasomnia's portal, tracing the engravings on its frame.

Had they changed parts of it? You noticed certain details that were not previously present.

"Well, too late to back off now. You're making me start to think you don't actually want me here." You pouted, shifting your gaze to Sebek's rigid body beside the doorway. He jumped and dashed over, his cheeks flushed pink.

"Of course I do, Lady Vanrouge! Your presence is always appreciated! I only wish you had chosen safer means to visit!" He yelled, his booming voice practically rattling the walls. Chuckling, you ran your fingers through his hair before patting his head.

"I jest. Now, let's not keep them waiting. Shall we?" You clasped Sebek's hand with your own and stepped into the mirror.

A blur of colours hit you for a moment before you found yourself whisked away to the dark brooding castle Diasomnia calls a dorm. Standing atop the cobblestone steps, you took a deep breath. The air was thick with smothering moisture, like a fog.

The dim light of a window in the distance drew your attention. Among the many windows in the castle, it was the only chamber that was lit up.

"O-Oh? Is someone still up at this late hour?" You wondered, still light-headed from the teleportation. Sebek placed a hand on your back to stabilise your wobbly form. "Ah yes. That's probably Master Lillia, he tends to hold gaming sessions at this hour."

"Is that so?" You huffed, brows furrowing as you glared at the window. "...That damn bat."

Of course, this wasn't news to you. Silver frequently wrote to you about his father's long gaming sessions, which sometimes lasted days or even weeks. Just as you were about to march up to the castle, an arm wrapped around your chest, pulling you back.

"No need to look so mad, dear." A deep voice lulled.

Behind you two, Lillia appeared with an impish smile on his face. Sebek flinched before greeting Lilia vigorously while maintaining a stiff posture of attention.

"Good evening, Sebek! Would you go and get Silver and Malleus for me? This is going to be a lovely reunion." Lillia spoke, crossing his arms over his chest. He was perched upon a nearby tree, hanging off one of the branches.

"Yes Sir!" With that, Sebek was off, dashing towards the castle.

With a frown etched onto your face, you turned your gaze back to the fae who was still upside down. Lillia hummed, leaning forward to press his lips against yours. "Hello there, beastie."

"Still pulling the same old trick, I see." You grumbled, grabbing his arm to pull him down. Lillia smushed his cheek against your shoulder, peering up at you through his lashes.

"It's a classic of mine, isn't it?"

Likes and Reblogs are greatly appreciated and really motivating on my end!

#twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #lilia vanrouge x reader #lilia vanrouge #twst lilia #sebek zigvolt x reader #sebek zigvolt #twst sebek #twisted wonderland #twst #disney twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland fluff #diasomnia #silver vanrouge

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criticallyacclaimedstranger · 6 months

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Seed [Pero Tovar x f!reader]

Read on AO3

Now with a sequel: Sprout

Fandom: The Great Wall

Ships: Pero Tovar x f!reader

Tags/warnings: breeding kink from here to high heaven, fear of infertility, lots of piv sex and creampies, multiple orgasms, fingering, pero eats it from the back, praise kink, dirty talk, pet names.

Words: 4,022

Summary: Your husband Pero comes home to put a baby in you. Don't look at me.

The smell of fresh-caught fish mixes with the salty breeze from the sea, and the sweet scent of oranges. You carry your basket through the marketplace, grocery shopping done, when you hear a call from the crowd: "They're back!"

Your heart skips a beat as you swing around, your skirt dancing around your ankles as you see the trade caravan coming down the main street to the marketplace. Your eyes scan the faces, quickly finding the one you are hoping to see.

Your husband, Pero.

Since marrying you and settling in this quiet small town by the sea, he no longer sells his sword to warlords and kings. Instead, he provides protection for caravans. He is mostly away for a week or two at a time, but this time he has been away for months. You have carried your worry and longing stoically, never showing your neighbours your fear, but now you do not care if everybody sees the relief and happiness on your face. You are not the only one with a husband in the caravan, but you are the only one whose husband wields a weapon for a living.

Pero spots you from afar, and he urges his horse into a trot. The clip-clop of the shoed hooves against the cobblestones is the sweetest music you have heard in a long time. You stand still, a smile on your lips, and put the basket down when Pero swings down from horseback, pulls you to him, and wraps his strong arms around you.

"Wife," he murmurs into your hair. "My precious wife."

Your arms reach around his armoured middle as you bury your face in his shoulder. He smells of the road: dust, sweat, and grime, but you do not care. Underneath all that, you can smell him: horse, hay, earth, metal, spices. You cannot wait to drown in him.

Slowly, Pero strokes your head, making you look at him. You cup his cheek, feeling the stubble that renders his face darker than usual, and unevens the moustache.

"Are you unharmed?" you want to know. He nods slowly.

"Mad from missing you, but not a scratch on me."

He touches his lips to yours, just a gentle little return kiss from an absent husband to his beloved wife, but you know that as soon as you are behind closed doors, he is going to devour you.

"Let's go home," you suggest, enjoying the way your husband's beautiful brown eyes melt into dark liquid.

He helps you up on the horse and mounts behind you. Your basket securely in front of you and Pero sliding one arm around your waist to hold you close, he steers the horse homeward with his other hand. He does not speak as you leave the marketplace, and he does not need to. The two of you always found each other's silences comfortable. Besides, no words are needed to let you know he wants you: his cock is growing hard against the soft roundness of your ass pushing against it. A shiver runs down your spine and ends up on a blossoming pool of arousal between your thighs. Your hand finds Pero's on your waist, fingers disappearing between his in a loving clasp.

You reach your little house, Pero dismounting first so that you can slide off the horse and into his arms. He holds you close again, now with a full erection pressing against you.

"Go inside," he murmurs. "I have to put the horse away."

You push your pelvis against him, smirking at his low groan, before you take the basket and go in. You have barely emptied the basket onto the kitchen table before Pero comes in, kicking the door close as he starts to unlace his breeches.

He takes you on the table, breeches undone just enough to let his cock out, your skirts pulled up to your waist to let him in. A frantic coupling where you exchange breathless moans, claw at each other's bodies through clothes, his cock pressing deep into you as his fingers plant blooming bruises on your thighs. He spills into you before long, cock twitching in the welcoming squeeze of your cunt, and lowers his forehead to yours as he catches his breath. You comb your fingers through his dark hair, curling at the nape of his neck. The amount of silver has increased, scattered like stars across the dark clouds of his soft hair. You kiss the scar over his left eye, both above and under his closed eyelid.

"You need a haircut," you mumble, despite not really wanting him to cut off the soft curls. "And a shave."

"I need you." His initial thirst for you may have been slaked, but his hunger is not sated, and neither is yours.

"You have me now."

He straightens his back and rolls his head, a joint cracking loudly. Slowly, you come down from the table and start to lace up the bindings of his armour. He watches you do it, pulling the bodice of your dress down your shoulders and caresses the exposed skin, stares into your cleavage.

"Wife," he demands, hand on your waist, "Are you with child yet?"

You cast your eyes down. You have been trying to have a child since you were wed. The attraction between the two of you was always there, and pleasure has always been an important part of your married life - before as well, even if he never put it in before you were wed - but there has always been another motive to your coupling as well. You both want a child, several, but one to start with. He takes every opportunity to sow his seed in you, and you welcome every attempt.

But so far, it has not taken.

"My love." Pero caresses your head. "We have time. We will try again."

He kisses your cheek, and leans in towards your ear, his breath hot when he whispers: "And again... and again... and again..."

A husky giggle escapes you and you wrap your arms around his neck as you seek his lips for a kiss. He lifts you up, skirts rustling, and carries you to bed. The kisses turn slower as you undress each other, hands reclaiming every bit of revealed skin. His hard muscles relax when you pass your palm over them, fingers chasing his old familiar scars to trace and love. His hands are dry and callused when he cups your soft breasts, but he still holds you gently. His unshaved face tickles your stomach when he trails kisses over it, but your giggles turn to moans when he buries his face between your thighs, tongue probing between slick lips where his precious seed is dripping out. He assaults your clit, has you thrashing and wailing his name until the sheets are crumpled and you are shaking with the intensity of your release. He rests his chin on your thigh, looking up at you with both a satisfied smirk and adoring eyes.

"That's my girl," he praises you softly. "Let the neighbours know that your husband is home."

You chuckle breathlessly. Your cunt is throbbing hotly, and you pass your hands over your face before reaching for Pero.

"Come to me, husband."

He crawls over you, hissing softly when you close your hand over his cock, and guide it into you. It slides in so easily, but still fills you up so perfectly.

"Oh..." you gasp, eyes falling shut as you bite down on your lower lip. "Pero..."

"I know, precious, I know... but you have to look at me."

He cups your face and kisses you, and when he pulls back, you open your eyes, only to drown in the dark pools of his.

"I want you to look at me when I fill you with my seed," he growls, fingers tangling in your hair. "Look at me when I fuck a baby into you."

His voice is strangled, his hips grind tightly against yours. It is slower now than that first, hurried time, but still intense, desperate in a whole new way. You are hypnotized by him, his presence, his weight on top of you, his cock ravaging your very womb, his low voice that always knows just how to drop to make you wet, that scarred gaze of his that scowls at everyone else but turns soft and vulnerable when directed at you.

"Breed me," you whisper, hooking your ankles together behind his back. "Breed me, husband, I need you to breed me."

He stutters as he fucks you harder, digging deep into you, finding your spot, and staying on it as your moans rise.

"Pero, oh, God, please don't stop!"

He lets you cum first, fucks you through it before driving himself as deep as he can, then staying there. You whimper his name, your cunt convulses, and you can barely breathe, but Pero stays where he is.

"Take it," he soothes you through clenched teeth. "Take it, wife, every last drop, and grow me a baby."

"I love you," you manage to whisper, the words drowning in his mouth when he kisses you.

"And I love you."

Dinner is forgotten, as are the chickens and the horse. Pero slumbers in your arms but wakes up when you take his soft cock in your mouth. You rest together, until he has to be inside you again. Not until dusk settles around the house do you rise to take in and feed the chickens. Pero takes care of the horse, and you prepare dinner. He comes in and finds you by the workbench, cutting up cheese and smoked meat, and immediately cages you against the bench, arms sneaking around your waist as he kisses your neck.

"Pero, I'm holding a knife," you smile, and he immediately closes his hand over yours, guiding it to put the knife down. You hear his stomach growl, and know that if you are hungry, he must be starving.

"Dinner is almost ready."

"Only hungry for you, my love..."

You turn your face to his and receive his kisses, sighing softly at his roaming hands, one finding your breast only covered by your camisole, the other cupping your mound through the fabric of the underskirt. Your cunt weeps to have him again, while stinging from overstimulation. You lost count of how many times you have taken him this afternoon.

"Pero," you whisper between the kisses, your hands finding his and pressing down, in direct opposition to your words. "We need to eat, and you need a bath."

He expresses his discontent with a guttural grunt but gives you one last kiss and squeeze before releasing you.

"Sit down," you gesture towards the table, but he lays out cutlery, plates, and knives for both of you before taking his seat. When you bring the tray of foods to the table, he does not take his eyes off you. You feel the heat rise in your cheeks because you know exactly what he is thinking when he sees your soft breasts spill out of your camisole, the roundness of your ass underneath the threadbare skirt when you bend over to pour him ale. He smirks at you when you catch his gaze, and you shove him gently with your hip.

"Eat."

You take your seat on the other side of the table and eat in a comfortable silence as darkness descends outside. The sounds of your small town die down, only the occasional call of an animal drifting in through the open window together with the cool breeze.

You clear the table afterwards, Pero watching you in quiet contentment. When brushing past him, he cannot keep his hands to himself, but slaps your ass and grins when you yelp and turn around to tell him off. You find yourself pulled down onto his lap instead, Pero nuzzling your neck as he holds you close.

"Thank you for the meal."

"You are very welcome."

His whiskers scratch your sensitive skin, sending shivers down your spine. He kisses your neck, your shoulder, drags his lips down to your breasts while his hand gathers the fabric of your skirt so that he can slip underneath. His fingers find the messy apex of your thighs, his seed and your slick drying on your lips, and when he pushes his fingers inside you, your head falls back as you moan low in your throat.

"Pero... oh, oh, there, oh my God... I can't..."

"If you're too sore, tell me, and I will stop," he whispers hotly against your nipple before sucking it into his mouth. You shake your head, a sob of abandon slipping you.

"More, my love, more."

He brings you to the edge with his fingers, skilfully and quickly, before pushing you over it, catching you in his strong arms when you fall with a wail against his chest.

"Beautiful," he murmurs as he strokes your back, "so beautiful, my pretty girl..."

The night comes on, and Pero brings in water that you warm on the stove, for him to finally pour into the tub where you have spread out dried herbs and flowers. When he sinks down into the warm water, you take a sponge and a piece of scented soap and scrub every inch of him. He relaxes into the water, eyes finally falling shut, as you rub his body down with small, round circles. He leans into your touch with a sigh filled with gratitude and love. Pero is a man who desperately needs softness in his life, the life he always thought would be cut short due to his choice of profession. No wonder he has such a strong need to have children, see part of himself in a tiny face, foster a new generation to carry on his name after he is gone. And you desperately want to give him that.

"Pero," you speak quietly, getting a hum in return. "What if I cannot bear children?"

He does not react at first, but as soon as your words make sense to him, he turns his head to look at you.

"Why would you say that?"

"We have tried, and I'm not pregnant."

"We haven't been married for a year."

"For some, it takes immediately."

"Not for all."

The open window brings in the scents of your garden: evening primrose, wisteria, moonflower, jasmine, and whiffs of herbs rises from the water to meet them. You cast your eyes down to the soap in your hands, and Pero raises a hand from the water, and gently places it on your shoulder.

"My love. We have time."

You nod, knowing he is right. But you still cannot shake the feeling that you have carried around since he left, and your monthly cleansing arrived.

"The wives in town say things."

"What do they say?"

You wet your lips and raise your gaze to meet his. "They say that men who sleep with whores during their trips soil their seed."

Pero's face remains calm and honest. "I have not as much as looked at another woman since I met you. I hope you know that."

"I do, I just..." You shake your head, unsure why you even brought it up. You have never doubted his faithfulness. "I'm sorry. Their words ring in my ears, I can't stop thinking about it."

"Why do you even listen to those old hags?" he shakes his head.

"Because I meet them every day, and they talk, and they know things, and they look at me like I'm a prized cow, all of them waiting for me to become pregnant."

"It's none of their business," Pero scoffs, but his thumb is rubbing soothing circles on your shoulder.

"They also say... that older women are less fertile."

"You are fertile," he immediately dismisses your fear and self-doubt. "You still bleed."

"But if I'm too old?"

Pero sits up straight in the tub, the other hand coming to your other shoulder as he looks into your eyes.

"You are my wife and my love. I want us to have children, but if we for some reason are not to be blessed with them, my love for you will not change."

"I know," you smile softly, "and I will love you too." Tears rise in your eyes, and you wipe at them with the back of your hand. "Forgive me. I just missed you so much."

"You have nothing to apologize for, my love."

You lean forward to kiss him, but when his lips start to trail across your cheek, you giggle and shake your head.

"You, Pero Tovar, need a shave, or you'll grate me raw!"

He stays completely still as you trace his cheeks with the razorblade, eyes under heavy eyelids following your minuscule movements. The hint of a smile plays in the corner of his mouth as he enjoys how your steady hand shaves away the itchy bristles. Finally, you trim his moustache, then his hair. The water grows cool, and he rises from the tub, accepting your hand when he steps out of it. His cock is striving proudly towards his stomach, and he does not take the time to dry himself before lifting you up and carrying you to the bedroom. He sets you down next to the bed and cradles your head in his big hands.

"How do you want me, my beloved?"

You caress his smooth cheeks, stroke your thumbs over his eyebrows, still wet from the bath.

"From behind, husband. I want you to mount me like an animal."

"Your wish is my command."

His hands drop to your shoulders, where they guide you to turn around before caressing down the straps of your camisole. You undo the lacing in the front, and the neckline widens enough to drop and expose your breasts. He cups them from behind, thumbs brushing over stiffening nipples, soft lips peppering kisses all over your neck and shoulder. His cock strains against the fabric of your skirt, and he drops his hands to your hips, finding the laces that will free you from the garment. It rustles softly as it falls to the floor, and Pero's hard cock comes to a rest between your ass cheeks. Your cunt clenches and you can smell your own arousal.

"Take me," you breathe, but Pero grazes your shoulder with his teeth.

"I need to service you first."

He kneels behind you, one hand pushing lightly on your lower back. You bend over, upper body coming to a rest on the crumpled sheets. Pero's hand slowly slides down to your ass, cupping and squeezing, before he slides his fingers between your thighs, carefully pushing your legs open. He fingers you almost thoughtfully before you feel the tip of his sharp nose, and his hot breath on you, and then his lips close around your bud in a little kiss before his tongue takes over. He licks at you, into you, hands coming to grab your soft thighs, humming into your aching cunt. You can barely take it anymore, not after the pleasures of the afternoon, but your husband's touch always makes you need more. Like a bitch in heat, you egg him on, writhe and fist your hands into the sheet, loudly moaning without any thought of the neighbours. He brings you to bliss, once again, pushing his face against you, fingers digging painfully into your ass cheeks as you shake through your orgasm. He helps you up on the bed, letting you rest on your belly, and kisses your shoulders, back, and the soft curves of your buttocks before coming back up to steal your breath away with a wet kiss.

"My beautiful wife," he murmurs, and you smile back faintly. "Can you take me?"

"You know I can," you murmur, already feeling his rock-hard cock pressing in between your thighs. "Take me, husband. Breed me. Put a baby in my belly."

He growls at that, bites your neck, pulls your ass up, and legs together before straddling them. You whine when he pushes into you, your dripping yet sore cunt protesting and welcoming at the same time.

"So wet for me," he groans as he slowly moves in you, hands on your hips. "My love, I thought about this so often during those lonely nights on the road." He sinks deep into you. "I would fuck my own hand and think of you." He thrusts his hips into yours, making you choke on your own breath. "I would spill my seed on the ground and mourn its loss. It shouldn't be wasted but find its way into your fertile womb..."

He lays down over you, pressing your hips down with his as he wraps his arms around you and whispers in your ear: "I would think of you becoming round with my child, your tits filling with milk, how proud and beautiful you would look on my arm when we go to the marketplace together. How I would fuck you every night to make sure the child grows big and strong..."

You sob with desire, delirious from his words and the way he fills you up. All you can do is wrap your own arms around his, take his cock with your encouraging whimpers, and let him kiss what breath you still have away.

He takes his time fucking you slowly, his warm body growing hot from the effort, hips grinding into you so deep that you'll surely be bruised in the morning, all the while whispering filthy things in your ear, keeping you on the brink of insanity until you find yourself cumming yet again, and this time the tears come as well, it's all too much and still not enough, you want all of him in you, and you want him to fill your womb, you need it.

"My good wife," he praises you for climaxing, "Cumming on my cock like that, preparing your wet little cunt for my seed. Take it, my love, take it, I don't have long."

"Breed me," you manage to articulate, "put a baby in my belly, Pero, I love you, now breed me, fuck me like an animal and make me pregnant!"

He growls into your ear and props himself up onto one forearm before heeding your wish. You cry out when he drives himself into you, again and again, until you feel the wet heat spill inside you. A low, rumbling growl rises from deep within him, and he thrusts into you, all the way in, as deep as he can go, and stays there, panting heavily. You can hardly take it, you're too full, but you still push back as if he could go any deeper, and you squeeze him tightly to get every last drop out of him.

He finally collapses by your side, cock slipping out, one arm and leg thrown over you. Silence descends over your wheezing, sweaty bodies - yours slick from his perspiration. Finally, Pero groans, and kisses your shoulder.

"Are you still in one piece, my love?"

"Barely," you murmur, exhausted and deeply in love.

"Will you let me tuck you in?"

You gripe but shift so that Pero can pull away the covers. Your head hits the pillow with a deep sigh that changes to a yelp when Pero slaps your ass.

"Move. You've been sleeping alone for too long, you have started to take up too much space."

You scoot over to one side, and Pero gets in behind you. Moulding himself to you, he kisses your shoulder again.

"If I get pregnant, I'll get fat and take up even more space," you point out with a yawn.

"When you get pregnant, I'll worship every inch of your beautiful body, wife," he promises you. "Now, legs together. Don't want my seed to stain anything but your thighs."

Your hand finds his under the covers.

"I'm so glad you're home."

"I'm very glad to be home."

His hand comes to a rest on your lower abdomen, spreading a faint tingle deep inside. You smile to yourself, and then sleep claims you.

#pero tovar #pero tovar x you #pero tovar x reader #pero tovar fanfic #the great wall fanfic #my fic

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its-all-or-nothing94 · 9 months

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Racing Hearts - Part 1 // Charles Leclerc x Reader

Summary: Charles Leclerc, a beloved and celebrated F1 driver, yearns for a meaningful connection amidst the glitz and glamour of his high-profile job. As the Monaco GP is around the corner, he fatefully crosses paths with Y/N Y/L/N, an ordinary girl who captures his heart with her genuine personality and kind spirit.

Masterlist

Warnings: None

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader

A/N: Sooo, this is my first F1 Story :) I hope you enjoy it. It's a typical romance for all you romance lovers out there ;) Like, Reblog, tell me what you think :D It's highly appreciated!

Disclaimer: This story is purely fictional, and any character portrayals are just how I wrote them - hence fictional! I don't know them, except my OCs.

Tagging: @liebgotts-lovergirl, @softly-writes, @bellewintersroe (I thought, you might enjoy this ;))

The streets of Monaco shimmered under the golden rays of the sun, casting an ethereal glow upon the grand city. You stood at the edge of the bustling harbor, your eyes wide with wonder. You had arrived in this glamorous playground by chance, a spontaneous detour on your adventure across Europe. The winding cobblestone streets, the opulent yachts bobbing in the azure waters, and the hum of wealthy tourists filled the air, creating an atmosphere of indulgence and sophistication.

Your Y/H/C hair fell softly around your sun-kissed shoulders as your Y/E/C eyes scanned the crowd, searching for your best friend, Sofia. Minutes turned into an impatient eternity until, finally, a familiar figure emerged from the throng. Sofia Santoro, her dark hair cascading down her back, approached with a radiant smile that reached her warm brown eyes. You embraced, reuniting after weeks of exploration and discovery.

"Y/N!" Sofia exclaimed, her voice alive with excitement. "You won't believe the sights I've seen! And the food... Oh, you have to try the pastries here. They're heavenly."

You chuckled, your spirited personality shining through. Sofia lived here for a year now, and finally, you came to visit your best friend. "I can't wait to hear all about it, Sof. Monaco truly is a dream."

As you strolled through the luxurious streets, your laughter mingling with the splash of waves, an unexpected occurrence startled them. You stumbled, your steps faltering as if an invisible force had collided with you.

"What is it?" you asked your best friend, but Sofia just looked at you, confused.

"I didn't say anything... But hey, there is that store I told you about. Be right baaack", she sings as she walked away into the store across from the harbor.

You, meanwhile, stood at the edge of the Monte Carlo harbor, your eyes wide with wonder as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm golden glow over the glistening water. The air was thick with anticipation as if the city itself was holding its breath, awaiting the arrival of someone extraordinary.

You took a deep breath, the salty scent of the sea mingling with the aroma of fresh pastries wafting from a nearby café. Your heart fluttered with excitement as you adjusted the strap of your worn leather backpack, the only constant companion on your solo adventure across Europe.

"A breathtaking view, isn't it?"

You turned your head, Y/E/C eyes meeting the warm gaze of a stranger beside you. Chestnut hair, emerald green eyes, and a smile that could light up the night sky - it was as if destiny had brought you together at this very moment. Your heart skipped a beat as you stumbled back, blushing furiously.

"Uh, yes, it is," you stammered, her voice barely above a whisper.

The young man chuckled, a sound that was both melodic and infectious. "Apologies if I startled you. I couldn't help but notice your awe as you took in the beauty of Monaco."

Your cheeks flushed an even deeper shade of crimson, your Y/H/C waves tumbling down to frame your face. "It's just...I've dreamed of visiting this place for so long. And to see it like this, it's...magical."

"I couldn't agree more," he replied, extending a hand. "I'm Charles, by the way."

You couldn't say much as you were captivated by him. "Euh Y/N," you managed to squeak out, a shaky hand reaching out to meet his.

Your fingers intertwined an electric current passing between you. At that moment, the noise of the bustling harbor faded, and it was as if they were the only two people in the world.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Y/N," Charles said, genuine warmth in his voice. "Are you enjoying your time in Monaco?"

You nodded, a shy smile gracing her lips. "I am. I've been traveling across Europe, and this is my last stop. My best friend moved here last year. Her dad is a designer, and she took over the store here. But it feels...right, being here."

Charles's eyes sparkled with interest as he leaned in closer. "And for how long are you staying?"

You hesitated, unsure how much to reveal. But with Charles, there was a certain comfort, an inexplicable connection that compelled you to share the truth.

"I actually don't have a set schedule. I'm a freelance photographer taking a break, so I... have no obligations."

Charles chuckled, his cute dimples appearing on his cheeks. "That actually sounds quite nice. Not having any obligations, I mean."

You smiled at him as the bell on the store door rang, and Sofia made her way back to you.

"Okay, I've got everything, we can... go," Sofia said, the last word hesitant, finally noticing Charles. "Uh, hi," she greeted, and Charles nodded in response with a small smile.

A young man who bore an uncanny resemblance to Charles walked out onto the street from behind him. You guessed that this must be his brother. He called out something in French and waved at Charles, eyeing him for a second, before disappearing back into the restaurant.

"I have to go," Charles said. "But maybe we'll see each other again, Y/N. It was really nice meeting you."

He nodded at Sofia before following his brother into the restaurant. You watched him leave with a content smile.

"Oh my god! Do you know who that was?!" Sofia exclaimed as soon as Charles was gone.

You looked at her, confused, while you shrugged. "He said his name is Charles."

"Yeah, Charles fucking Leclerc! The Formula 1 driver? Don't tell me you don't know him?"

Sofia raised her eyebrows at you, making you feel foolish.

"What?"

Sofia put her hand on her hip and rolled her eyes. "You just flirted with one of the most famous Formula 1 drivers there is. He's from Monaco, and you, my dear, didn't even recognize him."

"Why would I? I've never watched Formula 1!" you defended yourself.

Sofia shook her head. "No, you haven't. But he definitely had his eyes on you, girl." Sofia smiled widely and nudged you.

"So? It's not like I'm going to see him again," You shrugged, turning your gaze back to the ocean.

"Oh, don't be so quick to dismiss it, girlfriend. Monaco is a magical place. And if he wants to find you, he will find you, I promise."

Meanwhile, at the restaurant, the Leclerc family had gathered, rejoicing in the reunion of all the children back in Monaco.

"Who was that? Another tourist fan?" Arthur inquired, settling down beside their mother, Pascale, and their brother Lorenzo.

"No, actually, she wasn't," Charles responded. "I don't think she even knew who I was."

Pascale glanced at her two sons. "What are you talking about, mon chéris?" she asked just as their entrees arrived.

"Charles was talking to a girl outside. I thought she was a fan," Arthur explained, and Pascale turned her attention to Charles.

"A girl?"

Charles seemed slightly irritated by his younger brother. "It's nothing, Maman. We were just discussing Monaco, nothing more."

Pascale studied her son's face. She knew him well enough to sense that there was more to the story than met the eye.

She sighed. "Well, as long as you don't plan on rekindling things with that dreadful Isabella..."

"Maman!" Lorenzo interjected, shaking his head slightly.

"What? They're not together anymore, so I can speak my mind, can't I?" Pascale asked, looking at Charles, who shook his head, annoyed.

Charles loved his mother, but she had a tendency to be outspoken, even when it would be best to hold her tongue. Charles knew his mother had never approved of his ex-girlfriend, Isabella Rossi. They had met at a charity event in Monaco, where Isabella's wealthy businessman father and her career as a model brought them together.

Initially, Isabella was sweet and caring, and Charles had fallen deeply in love with her. However, after four years, his feelings changed. When he confided in his brothers, best friend Pierre, and his athletic trainer Andrea Ferrari, they all agreed that their relationship had become toxic.

Ending things with Isabella hadn't been easy for Charles. The life of a Formula 1 driver could be lonely, constantly jetting around the world. Having someone who cared about him was a comfort. But eventually, Charles accepted the fact that his feelings had faded, and he ended the relationship. Needless to say, Isabella didn't take it well.

That had been a month ago, and ever since, she had made numerous attempts to win him back. As the Monaco Grand Prix was just around the corner, she knew Charles was back home.

"You can, Maman, and you know it. But can we just enjoy dinner and talk about something else?" Charles asked, digging into his pasta.

"She was really pretty," Arthur chimed in, causing Lorenzo and Charles to look at him, perplexed. Arthur couldn't be referring to Isabella. Arthur, noticing his brothers' confusion, rolled his eyes. "The girl outside? She was really pretty. Are you going to see her again?"

Charles glanced at Arthur for a moment. "Why would I?" he asked, although deep down, he wanted to. There was something about Y/N that stirred something inside him as if she were something special.

"Why not? Don't tell me you don't want to see her again. I saw the way you looked at her, Charles."

Charles took a deep breath. "Even if I wanted to, Art, I don't have her number, just her first name. I don't even know where she's from."

Arthur looked at Charles with an exasperated expression. "Are you shitting me?"

"Arthur!" Pascale immediately intervened.

"Sorry, Ma. But seriously, Charles. You know that if you want to find her, you will. We all know that. So get off your ass and go find that girl!"

"Is she really that special?" Lorenzo asked, looking at Charles.

The middle brother hesitated and then nodded. "I don't know why, but I have this feeling that our story isn't finished yet."

Pascale kept a watchful eye on her son. She took a deep breath and spoke up. "Then why don't you look for her, Charles? If she truly is that special."

Charles looked surprised at his mother. Pascale wasn't one to believe in fate, but if even she was advising him to pursue it, then he knew he should.

He set his fork down and gazed at his family, one by one. "Okay, starting tomorrow, we'll begin searching for Y/N."

"We?" Lorenzo immediately questioned, but Arthur simply nodded and grinned.

Basking in the warm Mediterranean sun, you and Sofia lounged beside the pool at Sofia's opulent apartment the next morning, which her father had graciously rented for her. You relaxed, sipping on glasses of wine and sharing laughter as you reminisced about your European escapades. However, Sofia's mischievous grin indicated that she had something up her sleeve.

"Sooo, Y/N," Sofia said, her grin widening, "Oh my gosh! I can't get over what went down yesterday with Charles Leclerc!"

You blushed slightly, attempting to downplay the encounter. "Oh, come on, Sof. It wasn't that big of a deal. We just chatted for a few minutes. It doesn't mean anything."

Sofia playfully raised an eyebrow. "No big deal? I saw the way he looked at you, and trust me, that wasn't ordinary. Charles is a charming guy, but he's not usually so forward with strangers."

You took a sip of her wine, trying to conceal your excitement, and shrugged nonchalantly. "Well, he was simply being friendly, right? I mean, he interacts with fans all the time. I didn't even know who he was until you told me."

Sofia shook her head, her grin refusing to fade. "Are you serious? The way he gazed at you, Y/N. Trust me, he knows you left an impression."

You shook your head at your friend, well aware of Sofia's tendency to read too much into things. "Yeah, right."

"But Y/N, I've seen Charles with fans before. He's usually reserved, quiet. Yet with you, it was like there was something more. He couldn't take his eyes off of you," Sofia stated, sitting up from the sunbed and raising her sunglasses. "I'm serious!"

You looked at your best friend, your cheeks tinged with a hint of red. "I-I don't know what you're talking about. It was just a chance encounter, nothing more."

Sofia's eyes sparkled with excitement as she continued to prod. "Oh, come on, Y/N! You can't deny the connection between you two. It was written all over his face."

You rolled your eyes. "Could you just stop? I'm not even looking for someone at the moment, and you know that. After everything that happened with Oliver..."

Sofia sighed. "I know, I know. He was a jerk, and you've sworn off love. Got it." She slipped her sunglasses back on. "But I'm still rooting for the perfect celebrity love story." She reclined back into her chair.

You glanced over at your best friend, and then you couldn't help but burst into laughter at the absurdity of the situation.

You lingered at the pool a little longer, enjoying the warm sun on your skin. Suddenly, Sofia's phone interrupted your peaceful moment. She quickly answered, speaking rapidly in both Spanish and French. After hanging up, she turned to you with an apologetic look. "Please don't be upset with me," she pleaded, and you raised an eyebrow in curiosity. Sofia sighed, explaining, "There's an issue at my dad's store that he insists I handle personally. I'm really sorry, Y/N."

You studied your best friend for a moment before responding, "No worries, Sof. I can handle some alone time."

Sofia observed your determined expression. "Are you sure? I promised I would clear my schedule for you."

You sat up and grasped Sofia's hand. "Hey, don't worry about it. I've been traveling solo through Europe for the past six months, so I think I can handle an afternoon alone."

Sofia chuckled, grateful for her best friend's easygoing nature. That was one of the reasons she loved you so much.

Thirty minutes later, Sofia arrived at her father's store. "Okay, what's the problem?" she asked her employee, Cassandra, who explained the situation. The problem turned out to be more time-consuming than Sofia had anticipated. After three exhausting hours, they finally resolved everything. Annoyed, Sofia walked to the counter and set down her phone, which she had used frequently throughout the afternoon. Suddenly, the bell above the door jingled, causing her eyes to widen.

"I knew it!" she exclaimed, her gaze fixed on the individual who had just entered the store. With a wide grin, she approached none other than Charles Leclerc, accompanied by his brother Lorenzo. "I knew you would come back."

Charles looked at her, initially confused, before recognition dawned on him. "Wait, I saw you yesterday, didn't I?"

Lorenzo glanced between Sofia and Charles, raising an eyebrow in confusion.

"Yes, you did. At the harbor!" Sofia replied excitedly.

"So, we finally found her?" Lorenzo asked hesitantly, trying to make sense of the situation.

Sofia smiled at Lorenzo. "Yeah, it's not her," Charles clarified, causing Lorenzo's attention to snap back to his brother. "But she's the friend with the designer store."

Sofia maintained her smile, shrugging lightly. "That's me, and I'm thrilled you found me. But on the other hand... How?"

Charles chuckled. "Y/N mentioned that she was visiting a friend here who owns a designer store. So we went from store to store today, searching for a clue. And now we've found you."

"You searched all over for her?" Sofia asked, amazed. Charles nodded. "That's incredibly sweet."

A faint blush tinted Charles' cheeks. "So, can you tell me where she is?"

Sofia's smile persisted as she replied, "No."

Lorenzo's head shot up, confusion etched on his face. "No?"

"No... I mean, yes, but let me explain. She's at my place and, well... Okay, never mind. I have a proposition for you. Y/N and I will be at Jimmy'z tonight, so why don't you surprise her and join us there?" Sofia proposed, locking eyes with Charles before glancing at Lorenzo.

Charles exchanged a brief glance with his brother before turning back to Sofia. "We'll be there!"

Lorenzo looked at his younger brother, still perplexed. "We will?"

Charles met Lorenzo's gaze with a firm expression. "We will," he affirmed.

Sofia's grin widened, and she nodded enthusiastically. "Great! OMG, Y/N will be overjoyed when she sees you. She didn't want to believe me when I told her you would search for her and that you two had a special connection..." Sofia rambled, noticing Charles' amused expression.

"Sorry," Sofia finally said, realizing she had been babbling.

Charles chuckled. "It's okay. See you tonight." He took his brother's arm, and they exited Sofia's store.

A mischievous smile played on Sofia's lips as she watched them leave. Oh, Y/N was going to love this.

Upon returning home, Sofia found you emerging from the shower, clad in towels. As you applied moisturizer, Sofia entered the room with a smile on her face.

"Oh, you're back," you greeted your best friend.

"I am, and I come bearing gifts as an apology for taking so long," Sofia replied, placing a jaw-dropping black dress with golden sequins on your bed.

Curiosity piqued, you examined the beautiful garment. "Sof, no! I can't accept this, and you know it," you protested. You were well aware of Sofia's affluent background and her tendency to shower you with gifts, but you always declined.

"Come on! It's from my store, and I insist, Y/N. I want you to have it," Sofia insisted, revealing a pair of matching shoes from behind her back.

Your fingertips trembled with anticipation as your gaze shifted from the mesmerizing dress to Sofia and back again. With a gentle, hesitant touch, your fingers delicately brushed against the luxurious fabric. It felt soft and smooth beneath her touch, its fine craftsmanship evident in every thread. The sensation sent a shiver of excitement through you, making you appreciate the dress even more. "No, Sof... I wouldn't even know when to wear it..."

"Oh, I do! How about tonight, at Jimmy'z?" Sofia proposed.

"Jimmy'z?" you questioned. "Oh, no, Sof! You know I despise those types of clubs..."

Sofia draped her arm around you, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Well, that's a shame, but there's no way you're getting out of this one, my dear. I've already made all the arrangements."

With that, Sofia pranced out of your room, leaving her best friend in stunned silence. However, a smile crept onto your lips as you shook your head in amusement. Once again, you gazed at the dress. It truly was a stunning piece, and in that moment, you felt a flicker of excitement at the thought of wearing it tonight.

>> Part 2

#Charles Leclerc #Charles Leclerc x Reader #Charles Leclerc Fanfic #Formula 1 x reader #Formula 1 #Charles Leclerc Romance #Formula 1 Romance #Ordinary x Celebrity #Celebrity relationship #Racing Hearts #Kim writes again

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lucybronzey · 8 months

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new beginnings I - lucy bronze

pairing: Lucy Bronze x fem! reader (she/her) warnings: fluff, mention of children and alcohol word count: 3,446 author's note: This one probably comes in a few parts so be ready! I have also put some personal views into this as I really wanted to bring in some Northern European vibes into this. Please note that my dyslexia still affects my writing and there can be lots of grammar/vocabulary/phrasing mistakes. Feedback is always welcome! Please do not translate, copy/paste or take credit/ownership of any of my stories! summary: The brisk Estonian air swirled around Y/N as she walked through the charming streets of Tallinn, lost in her thoughts. She smiled to herself, thinking about the remarkable journey she had embarked upon with her beloved wife, Lucy Bronze. Their love had blossomed over time, transcending borders and cultures. Lucy, a world-renowned football star, had captured Y/N's heart with her determination, humour and kindness. Despite their demanding schedules, they managed to build a life together, supporting each other through thick and thin.

Tallinn's cobblestone streets echoed with the sound of Y/N's footsteps as she strolled through the charming Old Town. The medieval architecture and the scent of good food wafting from nearby cafes and restaurants created a picturesque backdrop. It was a city she loved dearly, a place where her roots intertwined with her aspirations.

Y/N was a woman of quiet strength and boundless dreams. With wavy (your hair colour) hair that framed her face and thoughtful eyes that held the wisdom of experiences beyond her years, she had an air of grace that drew people toward her. A proud Estonian, Y/N felt a deep connection to her homeland, carrying its rich history and vibrant culture within her heart.

As she walked, Y/N's thoughts drifted to Lucy Bronze, the woman who had captured her heart and had been married for a year. Lucy, with her radiant smile and eyes that sparkled like the clearest skies, was a force of nature both on and off the football field. Y/N had first seen her play during a televised match, a fierce determination emanating from her as she led the Lionesses to victory in the Euros. From that moment, her admiration for Lucy had blossomed into something more profound.

Flashback.

It had been a night of celebration, euphoria filling the air as England's triumph was celebrated throughout the women's football world. Lucy Bronze's exceptional performance earned her accolades and the hearts of fans worldwide. The victory had been hard-fought and the joyous energy of the achievement had translated into an unforgettable afterparty held in an elegant hotel overlooking the bustling city of London.

Y/N had been immersed in the celebratory atmosphere. She had attended the afterparty through a connection with mutual friends, her excitement palpable as she mingled with fellow football players, team members and mutual friends. Being in the presence of such a remarkable athlete as Lucy was an honour in itself and Y/N had never imagined that fate had a different kind of honour in store for her that night.

Amid the lively music, clinking glasses and bursts of laughter, Y/N's eyes eventually found Lucy across the room. Her heart had raced at the sight of the defender, whose exhaustion from the game seemed to only enhance her magnetic presence. Lucy's genuine smile and easy laughter were contagious, spreading like wildfire through the gathering.

As the night progressed, Y/N found herself drawn into the same circles as Lucy. It was a stroke of luck, or perhaps destiny, that had allowed them to cross paths. When they finally connected, Y/N felt a mixture of nervousness and excitement. She had followed Lucy's career, admired her skill on the field and now, here she was, in the same space as the person who had become a source of inspiration.

Their conversation flowed effortlessly as if they were old friends catching up after a long time apart. Y/N learned about Lucy's journey in the women's football world – the sacrifices, the hard work and the unwavering determination that had led her to become one of the sport's most formidable players. Lucy, in turn, was intrigued by Y/N's stories of her Estonian heritage, her passions and her dreams beyond the football field.

Amid the celebratory atmosphere, they found a quieter corner where they could hear the distant rhythm of the waves crashing against the shore. The twinkling lights above them cast a warm glow, creating an intimate space where their connection deepened. Glasses filled with a mix of beer, rum and wine sat before them, each sip accentuating the thrill of the moment.

Their laughter mingled with the night air, creating a melody that was uniquely their own. They shared stories of their lives, experiences that had shaped them and dreams that had carried them through challenges. It was as if the universe had conspired to bring them together on this lush night, where time seemed to stretch, allowing them to explore the depths of each other's souls.

As the hours ticked by, Y/N and Lucy felt a bond growing stronger with every word exchanged. They laughed, they debated and they shared moments of vulnerability that left an indelible mark on their hearts. Underneath the starlit sky, they discovered that their connection was more than just admiration from afar – it was a genuine and profound spark. Their lips met in a passionate kiss, a moment that sent an electrifying shockwave through both their bodies. It was a kiss that held the promise of everything that could be, a glimpse into the future they hadn't yet dared to imagine. Time seemed to stand still as they shared that stolen moment, a testament to the chemistry that had ignited between them.

As they pulled away, their breaths mingling in the hotel air, Lucy's fingers gently brushed against Y/N's cheek. The intensity of their connection was mirrored in their eyes, a silent acknowledgement of the path they were about to embark upon.

In the days that followed the unforgettable afterparty, Y/N and Lucy found themselves navigating the complexities of long-distance communication. They exchanged numbers and began sending messages that ranged from playful banter to heartfelt confessions. Despite the geographical distance that separated them, their connection only grew stronger.

Lucy's rigorous training schedule and Y/N's demanding work commitments meant that their conversations often spanned across time zones that were only two hours ahead or behind, but they made the effort to bridge the gap. Video calls became their lifeline, a way to see each other's smiles and hear the genuine laughter that had first drawn them together. In those moments, the miles between them seemed to vanish.

Their conversations were filled with shared dreams, whispered promises and the building anticipation of a future that was slowly taking shape. They found solace in each other's words, in the way they could confide in one another and in the reassurance that they were not alone in facing life's challenges.

As the weeks turned into months, Y/N and Lucy's bond deepened, the foundation of their relationship growing stronger with each passing day. They learned each other's quirks, shared their favourite books and talked about their hopes for the future. The distance that had once seemed daunting now served as a reminder of the strength of their connection.

As they continued to share their lives from across the sea, Y/N and Lucy's connection deepened into something neither of them had ever experienced before. Their messages and video calls became the highlights of their days and the promise of their future together seemed more real with each passing conversation.

Amidst the late-night talks and virtual laughter, Y/N and Lucy found themselves facing the practical challenges of a long-distance relationship. The geographical separation, while bridged by technology, was a reminder of the physical distance that kept them apart.

One evening, as they shared their dreams and aspirations over a video call, Lucy's voice took on a thoughtful tone.

"Y/N, I've been thinking," she began, her eyes earnest as she looked at the screen. "What if... What if you moved in with me?"

The idea hung in the air, a beacon of hope that illuminated the path before them. Y/N's heart raced at the thought, the prospect of waking up beside Lucy every day filling her with a mix of excitement and longing. The idea of a shared life, of intertwining their routines and dreams, was both exhilarating and humbling.

"Move in with you?" Y/N echoed, her voice tinged with a blend of surprise and delight. "You mean in London?"

Lucy nodded, a soft smile playing on her lips. "Yeah, London. My flat has enough space and I've been thinking that it could be a way for us to be closer, to really build our life together."

The idea resonated with Y/N. Moving to London, where Lucy's presence was a constant reminder of the love they shared, seemed like a logical step. And of course, you would be able to apply for jobs there or do some sort of remote working from there. It was a chance to bridge the gap that the miles had created and to start creating a life that was truly their own.

Over the next few weeks, Y/N and Lucy brainstormed logistics, discussing the practical aspects of Y/N's potential move. From finding a job in London to making sure Y/N felt at home in a new city, their conversations were filled with excitement and careful planning. The idea of building a life together became a reality they could almost touch. Although, as much Y/N knew about life in the UK as she had lived in the north before, everything was still very new to her in London.

However, just as their plans were taking shape, life threw a curveball. Lucy's football career took an unexpected turn – an opportunity to play for Barcelona arose, a move that would take her to a different country. While the news was met with excitement, it also brought a touch of bittersweet reality to their plans.

Y/N and Lucy faced a difficult decision. Their love was strong, but the practicalities of life sometimes required compromise. They discussed the possibility of Y/N moving to London as initially planned and after a few months, relocating again to be with Lucy in Barcelona. The prospect was challenging, but they both believed that their bond was worth every obstacle.

The idea of Y/N moving to London remained a beacon of hope, a step that would bring them closer together despite the uncertainty that loomed. They envisioned a life where they could explore the vibrant city, create a home filled with shared memories, and immerse themselves in the simple joys of being a couple. The prospect of Y/N moving to London was tantalising – a chance to build a solid foundation for their relationship before embracing the whirlwind adventure of relocating once more to Barcelona.

Their conversations shifted from hypotheticals to the practical aspects of Y/N's move. They researched neighbourhoods, scoured job listings and even discussed the interior design of Lucy's flat. The process of planning this new chapter of their lives was both exciting and nerve-wracking, as the reality of change began to take shape.

Yet, as their plans gathered momentum, so did Lucy's impending move to Barcelona. While the idea of Lucy playing for one of Europe's top clubs was exhilarating, it also brought a hint of sadness. The distance that would separate them once again felt like an insurmountable hurdle.

With open hearts, Y/N and Lucy revisited their original plan. They discussed the possibility of Y/N moving to London first, giving them a chance to settle into their new dynamic and create a home together. After a few weeks, Y/N would then make the move to Barcelona, solidifying their bond and facing the challenges that awaited them as a united front.

The prospect was both exciting and daunting. Y/N's heart ached at the thought of leaving behind her Estonian roots yet again, but she also recognised the significance of the opportunity. Her love for Lucy was steadfast and she knew that the challenges they faced were minor in comparison to the depth of their connection.

Lucy, too, grappled with the complexities of the situation. The career move was a dream come true, a testament to her hard work and talent. Yet, the idea of being separated from Y/N for another stretch of time weighed heavily on her. They had already navigated the waters of long-distance once and the idea of doing so again was a reminder of the sacrifices they were willing to make for their relationship.

As they continued to discuss and plan, their love only seemed to grow stronger. They were acutely aware of the challenges that lay ahead, but their shared vision of a future together, where the love they had nurtured would flourish, gave them the strength to face uncertainty head-on.

Their conversations transitioned from late-night calls to earnest discussions about the future that lay ahead. Y/N and Lucy strategised ways to make the upcoming separation more bearable, using technology and virtual dates to bridge the gap between them. The promise of reuniting in Barcelona after a few weeks became the guiding star that would help them navigate the challenges that lay ahead.

However, life has its own way of unfolding plans and destiny seemed to have a slightly different route in store for them. Y/N's priorities shifted as she realised that her move to London could be expedited. There were responsibilities to address in Tallinn before she could embark on this new chapter of her life and Y/N knew that taking care of these matters was essential.

With a heavy yet determined heart, Y/N made the choice to forego the original plan of moving to London first. Instead, she made preparations to join Lucy in Barcelona as soon as her Tallinn commitments were fulfilled. While the immediate reunion was a tantalising prospect, it also meant that they would be stepping directly into a new environment together, a leap of faith that they were both ready to take.

The last few days and weeks in Estonia were filled with happiness, desperation, sadness and enjoyment. It was of course saddening to leave the friends and families behind yet again but they were aware and knew that you could only find yourself and your happiness somewhere else rather than in a grey, cloudy Tallinn.

When the time finally came, Y/N boarded the plane to Barcelona with a mix of excitement and nervous anticipation. The journey felt like a whirlwind, the culmination of months of planning and heartfelt conversations. She carried her dreams, her love for Lucy and a suitcase filled with memories from Tallinn – the city where her roots were firmly planted.

Upon arriving in Barcelona, Y/N felt a sense of awe as she took in the vibrant city that would now be her home. The energy of the place matched the rhythm of her heartbeat and she knew that this was where her journey with Lucy would truly begin. As they settled into their shared life, Y/N felt a sense of calm and contentment wash over her. Everything seemed to fall into place as if the universe was aligning to support their love story.

The challenges they had anticipated were met with a united front. Navigating a new city, establishing routines and creating a home together became a collaborative adventure. The daily rhythm of their lives, from morning coffee to late-night conversations, solidified their bond even further.

As they walked the streets of Barcelona hand in hand, Y/N and Lucy's love seemed to expand, filling every corner of their shared space. The challenges that once seemed daunting now felt like mere stepping stones on their journey. Lucy's longing to marry Y/N grew stronger each day, as she realised that their love was unshakable, a force that could weather any storm.

One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting hues of gold and pink across the sky, Lucy turned to Y/N with a smile that held a mixture of vulnerability and certainty.

"Y/N, there's something I want to ask you," she began, her eyes locked onto Y/N's.

Y/N's heart raced as she looked into Lucy's eyes, feeling a rush of emotions that words couldn't capture. And then, in a voice that trembled with a mixture of excitement and sincerity, Lucy spoke the words that Y/N had secretly hoped to hear.

"Will you marry me, Y/N?"

Tears welled up in Y/N's eyes as the weight of the moment sank in. With a joyful heart and a voice that quivered with emotion, she responded, "Yes, Lucy, a thousand times yes."

Their love story had come full circle, from an electric encounter at an afterparty to a life built on shared dreams, challenges and unwavering support. As they stood on the streets of Barcelona, their fingers intertwined and their hearts intertwined even further, Y/N and Lucy knew that their journey was just beginning, that the love they had discovered was bound to transcend every obstacle that came their way.

Back to the present day.

Their love story evolved from a chance encounter to a shared life filled with dreams, challenges and unwavering support. Since Y/N had moved to Barcelona to be with Lucy, their journey had taken them to new heights, cementing their bond in ways they could have never predicted. As they celebrated their first year of marriage, Y/N's heart swelled with gratitude for the love they had nurtured.

One of the pivotal moments had occurred shortly after Y/N's move to Barcelona. With a job at FC Barcelona Femení, Y/N had become immersed in the world of women's football. It was a passion that she shared with Lucy, who had always been an advocate for women's rights and equality in the sport.

One day, while scrolling through Facebook, Y/N came across a post that caught her attention. The Estonian Women's National Team was organising a football charity event in Tallinn and they were looking for foreign guests to talk about women's football and rights. The opportunity resonated deeply with Y/N and she couldn't help but think of Lucy.

Excitement bubbled within her as she reached out to Lucy with the idea.

"Hey, my darling, I just saw this post about a football charity event in Tallinn. They're looking for speakers to discuss women's football and rights. It's organised by the Estonian Women's National Team. What do you think? Would you be interested in being a guest speaker?"

Lucy's response came swiftly, her enthusiasm evident in her words. "Absolutely, my love! I'd love to do it. It's such an important topic and I'm really keen on sharing my thoughts and experiences."

With Lucy on board, Y/N reached out to the organisers, offering Lucy as a guest speaker for the event. The invitation was accepted with a massive gratitude and lots of 'thank yous' and soon plans were set in motion for both Y/N and Lucy to attend the charity conference in Tallinn.

The day of the event arrived and Y/N and Lucy found themselves surrounded by a number of football players, management members enthusiasts and advocates for women's rights. As they took the stage to share their views and experiences, the room buzzed with anticipation. Lucy's eloquence and passion shone through as she spoke about the importance of empowering women in football and breaking down barriers.

After the conference, Y/N and Lucy attended a friendly game between the Estonian Women's National Team and a visiting team. As they sat together in the stands, the thrill of the game mixed with their shared sense of purpose. They marvelled at how far the world of women's football had come and discussed the work that still lay ahead. There was still a lot of work to do on an Estonian level but Y/N could not help it and see how the admiration and passion for women's football had taken the route to new heights.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm glow over A Le Coq Arena and Tallinn, Y/N turned to Lucy with a smile.

"You know, Lucy, I can't help but wonder about the future. When we have kids, I wonder how they'll take upon your admiration for football, your skills and our passion for women's rights."

Lucy's eyes lit up with a mixture of excitement and contemplation. "I've thought about that too, Y/N. It's a beautiful thought, isn't it? To imagine our children carrying on the legacy of love for the game and the fight for equality."

Their conversation lingered on the possibilities that lay ahead, a future where their shared values and passions would shape the lives of their children. As they gazed at the skyline, Y/N and Lucy felt a deep sense of connection – not just as partners in love and marriage, but as individuals committed to leaving a meaningful impact on the world.

In that moment, surrounded by the energy of Tallinn and the shared dreams of their future, Y/N and Lucy's love story continued to unfold, each chapter building upon the foundation they had built together. The Estonian sky above them stretched limitlessly, mirroring the vast possibilities they saw in their future – a future where their love, admiration and shared aspirations would continue to be a guiding light. And possibly something more.

#mine #read #masterlist #lucy bronze #lb #lucy bronze x reader #woso #woso x reader #woso imagine #lucy bronze imagine #lionesses #fc barca #fc barcelona #fc barcelona femeni #woso fanfics #wwc 2023 #lucy bronze one shot

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lovelykhaleesiii · 6 months

Text

The Wolf & the Stray Girl. Chapter #1 The Grieving.

PAIRING: Werewolf!Aegon ii Targaryen x fem!Reader [Little Red Riding Hood AU]

WORDS: 1942.

SUMMARY: Nestled in the outskirts of a desolate village, it was known that the woods were a dark, fearsome place not to be ventured. Yet something enchanting lived amongst its shadows, you were certain. And some may call it your bold willingness or others, your naive curiosity, would ultimately uncover the truth.

WARNINGS: mentions of stalker tendencies, mentions of murder/intrusion.

A/N - apologies for the long wait, I took some time away from writing. I sometimes feel my place in this fandom is non-existent. I realise now, that it does not matter. I came here to write for characters I love... that is what I intend to do. thank you for your patience, to those that continue to support me x

The long, treacherous road that laid ahead of you, the further you would venture into the dark, enchanted woods was not one to be taken lightly. Although, far from harm's way so long as you remained stagnant in your pathway: not befallen to whatever temptations lurked in the shadows beyond the winding, cobblestoned thoroughfare. Your final destination was intended to be a quick visit to your beloved grandmother, with the hopeful, pleasant exchange of goods. Her cinnamon cookies were divine, especially when and almost always freshly baked.

Despite having travelled this familiar road many times before, both with the thorough guidance of your father and your now presumed late elder sister, it never ceased to feel eerie. A nauseating sensation in the deepest pit of your stomach would always churn and writhe with suspicions that curious, watchful eyes lingered over your every move, your every trail. A terrible suspicion that some of these eyes intended to harm you.

The harrowing, cold tone of your father’s stern words had been etched into your malleable mind, like a carving in stone.

“Stay on that path, girl… Or we have lost you already.”

Your father had grown much old and weary of late, since your elder sister had been declared missing. He scouted relentlessly day and night himself, into the woods. Only to return empty handed, with proof of his exhausting endeavours saturated across his seldom face. His eyes once so lively that gleamed bright with joy: a man that could once smile with his eyes, now only distraught with the strained look of grief and despair.

It took you countless attempts to persuade him otherwise, to allow you to venture the journey yourself, until he finally agreed, although with great reluctance. He knew you were much more diligent and obedient than your elder, always adhering to orders without the temptation to cross a boundary. Your father trusted you, however he did not trust whatever creatures laid abed in the lush dark green canopy of the woods.

“Stay on the path, Y/N, my dearest… Or else I cannot bear to live a life where I lose you too.”

The luminescent indigo pigment of the petals had immediately caught your attention. Your active eyes would wander with marvel, fleeting from the defined path that laid ahead, to beyond the stretch of woods.

"Ocean tears" You breathlessly whisper, your eyelids widening with intrigue as you lust over the rare sight. Ocean Tears were a sacred commodity to come by so naturally: used for medicinal and curative remedies, your mind immediately soared to the sickly, malnourished state of your father. The toll of his insomnia, poor appetite and overall dejected state had been taxing to his health, since the disappearance of your sister. He was not the once formidable, strong man he had once been in the previous years...

The treasure itself was only a few short paces off the pathway itself. Your mind began to scatter, trying to outweigh the risks against the pros. Despite wearingly trying to convince yourself to stay on path, desperate to strain every brain fibre to obligate your body to adhere to your father's wishes, you unconsciously felt your body pacing forward, reaching the very edge of the elevated path. Your eyes darted from each side of the vast forest vicinity: delicately scanning every inch, crevice and shadow of the engulfing green and wooden shrubbery [with the Ocean Tears being the only source of colour in the portrait].

"Forgive me, Father," You utter beneath your breath, before taking a careful leap forwards. Now both feet firmly planted on the soft, soiled grown, the earth beneath felt somewhat alleviating. Having spent a few solid hours, with nothing but the rigid, uneven rocky stones beneath your feet, walking uphill and down, this mundane sensation was a relief like no other.

Only a few seconds had need passing, as you slowly began to regain your instinctual senses, realising the daunting extremity of your decision. Without wanting to spare precious seconds more, you hastily pace forward towards the vibrant flower, basking in the alluring scent, as you push aside the straightened flaps of your crimson red hooded cape. Delicately you begin to pluck at the petals, one fallen strand landing into the base of your woven, wooden basket.

Disciplined in your actions, your once whole and lively senses had once again melt away, unaware of a figure creeping up from the shadows.

"It seems someone has lost their way from the path..."

The unthreatening tone was low and husky, and yet its sudden volume shattering the vast, swallowing silence was frightful: dire enough to freeze your entire being in time.

Your fearful eyes met the immediate, still gaze of the strange man: a handsome, ethereal looking one, nonetheless. With moonlight tinged hair, short, silver strands almost blinding in the radiating beams of sunlight, his unfaltering lilac orbs were encapsulating. Conflicted to stare, yet unable to maintain constant contact. Although there was some distance between you both, you could tell he was a few, solid inches taller than yourself, his physicality sturdy, and robust appearing. There was no doubt, if he caught you in his midst, it would be meaningless to fight agains him. He practically oozed might. Although his facial features softened, almost angelic like, the healed yet evident scars slashed across his pale skin, made him look rugged: proof that he was no stranger to brute savagery.

He took a cautious, slow step forward, almost hesitant to, yet determined. In rhythm, you took a step back instinctually, causing him to take no further step closer.

"I wish not to harm you, I only wish to speak to you."

Although the nerves rattled you, his tempting words had somewhat puzzled you.

Who was this stranger? Had he been watching you from afar this entire time? Why the desire to speak?

"And why would I do that? Do you think of me as some naive prey? You are nothing but a stranger to me, what makes you think I will take your word?"

His endearing glare remained fixated on you this entirety, although you struggled to reciprocate, its enticing nature was captivating. His stout chest heaving generously, before exhaling a defeated sigh.

"You have no reason to trust me, Y/N... Although I have been watching you from the distance, since the moment you departed. I know where you sleep, I know where you seek solace... If you think you can wave me off, just know, I will be lingering. Your scent-"

Once more, he takes a solid pace forward, although this time with a dark, menacing tinge in his eyes, as he looms his head down to your eye level. Another pace further, as you try to maintain the distance between, taking a step back, as you firmly grip your basket's carved handle.

"W-What are you? W-Who are you?" You shamelessly stutter, your skin growing cold, sensing a drop in temperature in your body.

"I could smell you from miles away: that intoxicating scent. First hit me, when you first ventured these woods, that year ago. No matter how hard I tried, and I had tried to fight against it, yet I could not bear to ignore it any longer. From the countless sleepless nights, and long days, I had no choice... And seeing you now... You did not disappoint."

"G-Get away from me!" You recklessly shout: your yells could either result in aid working in your favour or against, drawing more unwarranted attention from dark figures. Your head paced backwards and forwards, from where the man stood ahead of you, inching in closer and closer, as you desperately tried to move yourself back to the footpath.

"I am no ordinary man, Y/N. I am Aegon. And you... You have no ordinary fate."

"Do not speak of my name again, fiend! Leave me alone!"

As you hastily turned your back, taking a risky lunge forward, planting your unsteady foot on top the solid ground of the pathway. You had only turned momentarily, and yet as you resumed your stance once more, you were faced with only the empty, glooming green of the forest, and its chilling silence. A few solid minutes had passed, your attention spanning across the shrubbery, inspecting every inch, for an ounce of proof that this Aegon, remained close by.

Although your body felt rigid and tense, sensing the hot blood coursing through your vessels. Your dense breathing felt heavy and restricting across your chest, as you tried to regain control.

Without a second to spare, you resumed your stroll, although with greater speed. Your mind fled to the echoing, harrowing voice of your father's words, and the guilt began to stir. You rebelled against his advice and the repercussions were close to fatal.

As your mind pondered over Aegon's words, your body carrying itself with each heavy step: your only intent was to make it in one piece...

The sight was unlike anything you had ever seen... The dark, dried traces of blood smeared across the walls and homily furniture, the broken pieces of wood and stained glass scattered messily across the floor, each careful step, an audible crunch beneath your weight. All details pointed to an intrusion, you had conceded. Your broken voice hopelessly calling out for your grandmother, as you slowly paced across the hallway, eyes peering across the vicinity for a remote sign of her. And yet, only silence had responded.

The hot tears swelling in your eyes had blurred your vision, as you took in each inch and crevice of the household. The day had been a harrowing one indeed, and to be met with this tragic fate, did no justice to ease your mind. As you crept towards the end of the hall, the familiar door to your grandmother's cosy chamber slightly remained unlock, only the disappearing sunlight lurking through. As you steadily pushed over the door, creaking in its hinges as though the house had not been vacant and unkept for years, you were met with a horrifying sight indeed. A pungent, horrid smell wafted through your nostrils, as you captured a glimpse of her unmoving, blood curdling body across the flood board. Suddenly, your vision had darkened into an abyss, the sight disappeared.

"Y/N-" The call of your name was unforeseen, yet its voice sounded eerily familiar. The hand that was stationed over covering your eyes, was sudden yet brought some relief, sparing you the gruesome sight. Your hand clutched at your heart, above your tender breast, as you felt your body being handled, gently guided to turn towards the direction of the voice.

"A-Aegon-" Eyes widening in disbelief as the hand released its clutch over your eyesight: you felt numb towards his presence as the over-looming sense of grief drowned you, otherwise. Your father had suffered enough anguish thus far, you could not bear to bring him the burden of more sorrowful news.

What has become of your family's fate? Had some curse plagued your family? Had some ill-minded person wished nothing more than to bestow such affliction unto you all?

"Y/N, dearest- You need to come with me, right now-"

With no caution to his actions, his warm hands, its raw texture rough felt against your soft palms, as he held your cold peripherals tightly. Reassurance oozed from him, as his large hand further reached over, tenderly brushing aside a fallen, misplaced strand of hair from your face, before his thumb caressed the fallen tear away.

You knew better than to show an ounce of trust towards Aegon, and yet, you felt somewhat protected in his presence.

"Y/N, please-"

taglist [for this series] - @urmomsgirlfriend1 @backyardfolklore @heavenly1927 @snowprincesa1 @trifoliumviridi @fulltacoparadise @qyburnsghost

general taglist - @chompchompluke @fan-goddess @malfoytargaryen @bibli0thecary @m1ndbrand @connorsui @elegantsplendour @randomdragonfires @sylasthegrim @arcielee @s-we-e-t-t-ea @sahvlren @aemondtargaryensrider @watercolorskyy @hypnos-daughter-certified @aegonslawyer

Aegon ii taglist - @who-told-you-this-was-butter @f4ll-for-you @amiraisgoingthruit @bucknastysbabe @jawline-of-steel

credit for divider - @/firefly-graphics

#aegon ii targaryen #tom glynn carney #aegon ii targaryen imagines #aegon ii targaryen imagine #aegon ii targaryen fanfic #aegon ii targaryen fanfiction #werewolf!Aegon ii #aegon ii smut #aegon ii fluff #aegon ii angst #hotd #house of the dragon

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iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia · 10 months

Note

If it wouldn’t be too upsetting, I was wondering about an angsty counterpart to the “M6 meet the parents” post you made awhile ago. Maybe MC finally regains their memories of their parents, only to learn that said parents treated them horribly in some way or another.

The Arcana HCs: When MC remembers having bad parents

~ a lot of people struggle with reconciling a need for parental figures with bad memories of the people who failed to fill that role, and they're not alone. I hope this brings some comfort - brainrot ~

CW for angst, yelling, mentions of toxic parenting

-- to set the scene --

You'd always wondered what your family was or wasn't like. It's been years since your new start on life, and you're content in the family you've found with your beloved.

You did always wonder what the trigger point might be to catch a glimpse of what you used to have - maybe the dad you just passed in the street promising their kid "a treat, but only one, okay?" or maybe the snoozing toddler you saw being lovingly carried home on their mother's shoulder.

You didn't expect it to be the sound of an angry adult yelling at a child for crying outside the window.

Julian

Just as the memories and the yelling and the crying are about to become too much, you hear another familiar voice join in outside your window

You've been expecting Julian home any moment, and it sounds like he's finally here. And like he's ... talking to the kid?

He's speaking gently, and when you peek out the window he's crouching on the cobblestones between the two, using his pocket square to mop up the kid's tears and helping them blow their nose

You hear him say something about grown ups being ridiculous and people who yell doing it because they don't have anything helpful to say and the adult behind him flushes red while the child giggles

There's a moment where you think the grown up involved is about to yell at Julian instead, but one furious look from your beloved is all it takes for them to back off

When he finally makes it inside to take off his coat and greet you, he freezes as soon as he sees the look on your face

"MC? You look upset, my dear, are you hurt? What's wrong?"

Once you're able to tell him everything, you watch his face fall and waver between sadness for your pain and anger on your behalf

"MC ... you deserved to have someone look out for you, too."

He wraps you up in one of his all-encompassing hugs and holds you tight before putting his coat back on and pulling you out the door. It's time Mazelinka made you her honorary grandchild, too

Asra

They saw you tense up from the backroom before they heard what was happening outside

He was just going to take a peek at what was going on, but as soon as he realizes it's memory-related he springs into action

Immediately strides to the shop front, casts a soothing spell on both the people involved (with an added mild sedating effect on the angry adult), turns the shop sign to "closed", and locks the front door before hurrying back to check on you

They approach you cautiously, asking if you're in any pain, and then take you upstairs to snuggle while you work through it

He's not going to pressure you to talk, so he rubs his hands along your back and arms and tucks your head under chin while he asks a few gentle questions in case you need somewhere to start

They'd known that your relationship with your parents wasn't the best, but you had never gone into very much detail before

He's had his own parental difficulties, and he's still working through the hurt and resentment from their disappearance, but he never had to worry about their cruelty

They're quick to shut down any blame you place on yourself. They think you're the most deserving of love of anyone they know, and you definitely didn't deserve to be treated the way you were

Refuses to let go of you until you're repeating back his affirmations

The next time you see Aisha and Salim, they practically offer to adopt you

Nadia

She overheard it from outside the cafe you were sitting in too

She was already very disturbed from the cruelty she was witnessing, but when she saw that it was bothering you as well she stood straight up and sailed outside to deal with the problem

She doesn't need to use very many words. You watch in slight awe as she comes to stand next to the sobbing child and stare down the belligerent adult until their angry shouts turn into quiet apologies

Refuses to let them off the hook until they apologize to the child as well and vacate the premises. Makes sure the kid is safe before coming back and taking her seat again

Confused about why you're still upset when the issue's already been resolved

Shocked and deeply pained when you tell her what's going on. Will make sure that you're somewhere that feels safe to talk before continuing the conversation

She'll make sure all your needs are met before sitting you down with both your hands in hers and asking you to tell her as much as you're comfortable sharing

Hearing about what your parents were like gives her more perspective on her own. She knows that her own hurt is valid too, but your description puts her experience into a new perspective

Quick to tell you that, since you're marrying her, you're part of her family now

Will invite her parents and sisters back to Vesuvia to smother you with love and properly adopt you into the Satrinava family

Never tolerates shouting in her Palace again

Muriel

He started to freeze up a little himself when you passed by the loud situation on your way out of town

He remembers being that kid on the streets, getting yelled at by grown ups who only thought of him as a parasite in child form

He approaches slowly with the hopes of comforting the kid and finding a safe spot for them, accidentally scaring the grown up away in the process (he was frowning very deeply)

He can tell right away that you're not doing too great yourself, but he doesn't want to rush you so he gives the child a wildflower and makes sure they're safe before walking back home while holding your hand

He wants to make sure that you have the time and space to find the words you need, so he gets you situated in front of the fire and sits next to you with a project

Invites you into his lap as soon as you start to sniffle

Listens for as long as he needs to for you to say what you need. All he wants is for you to know that you're not alone anymore

He remembers what it was like to believe that he was unwanted and what a relief it was to learn the truth

He can't imagine how much it must hurt to go through the reverse

Will hold and comfort you for as long as you need it

He'll blush and need to pause a few times, but he'll tell you that he wants you to be part of his family now, both the family of his past and whatever family you find together in the future

Portia

She doesn't even notice that you're upset

She's too busy storming out of the Palace to where the shouting is happening on the bridge and outdoing the angry adult in both volume and fury. How dare they speak like that to a child!

The kid in question stops crying pretty quickly because they're too busy watching in awe as your beloved Portia verbally beats the adult into the ground

She pauses to give the kid a sweet smile and piece of candy before booting the grown up on their way and storming back inside

Continues to rant while she picks up what she dropped. No child deserves to be treated like that! Who does that adult think they are? If a kid is crying, they need comfort, not yelling! What kind of -

Somehow her passionate ranting is both validating and soothing, but even after you've calmed down a bit you still look upset enough for her to pause when she finally looks at you

"MC? What's wrong?"

Starts pacing and tugging at her hair halfway through your answer to keep herself contained and then hugs you so tightly you feel your ribs creak once you're finished talking

Takes five minutes to tell you how loved you are and how mad she is at your parents before bundling you out the door and into town

She's taking you to eat Mazelinka's soup and become her honorary grandchild. She's also threatening Ilya into becoming your adopted older brother (he doesn't need convincing)

Lucio

Genuinely doesn't think anything's out of the ordinary until he sees you becoming visibly upset

He figures that it must be the person getting obnoxious in a public place, so he flies in their face and tells them to shut up and get lost, they're being too loud and bothering his MC

Surprised when you show some compassion for the crying kid. What are you talking about, kids are there to be yelled at - wait - what do you mean they deserve to be treated gently? He wasn't!

... oh

Awkwardly throws the kid a sympathetic smile before pulling you somewhere less vulnerable to continue your conversation

The treatment you describe isn't foreign to him, but when he imagines it happening to you, someone he wants to protect, his perspective starts shifting and he works himself into a rage

Will suggest hunting down and beating up the yelling adult since he can't do it to your parents

Ultimately begins breaking down a little himself, because his need to protect child you from harm is throwing his own past self's need for safety into sharp relief and he doesn't know how to proceed

Ends up back at your living quarters with you and huddling down on the bed together with the dogs to work it out

It's going to be a long journey, but finding a piece of hurt from his past that lines up with yours gives both of you the courage to start the healing process together

#ask arcana brainrot #the arcana #the arcana headcanons #the arcana hc #asra the arcana #julian the arcana #nadia the arcana #muriel the arcana #portia the arcana #lucio the arcana #the arcana game #the arcana fluff #the arcana angst #asra alnazar #julian devorak #nadia satrinava #muriel of the kokhuri #portia devorak #lucio morgasson

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jolenes-doppelganger · 3 days

Text

Innocence

Ilsa Faust x Fem! Metropolis Reader

Summary: How many variables go awry with one appearance of a hidden player? What would the Entity have done if a third party appeared in the array of pre-determined, algorithm-generated deaths?

Warnings: Side character death, angst.

A/N: Fuck you Christopher McQuarrie and Erik Jendresen!!!! Killing a beloved female side character to 'motivate' the male protagonist is the definition of FUCKING FRIDGING!!!! The side character death will be resolved, should there be demand for future chapters.

Word Count: 4.0k (DAMN)

Perhaps it had been the rain, the chill it had brought to your bones. But regardless, something was afoot. The streets of Venice were unnaturally quiet, and the party you had left emphasized that fact; a ringing sang in your ears. You walked alone on the streets, quietly enjoying the soft patter of the rain that trembled down the drains. Dodging the Metropolis body guards had been easy, it was a high stakes night for Alanna, a high stakes night for you.

Unfortunately, things did not stay peaceful.

Commotion sprung out among the party goers, and you heard distant gunfire. Things had begun. Sprinting was your only option, but with the heels you'd chosen it was more likely you were to twist an ankle over the cobblestone than escape. Finding a dark corner, you managed to brace yourself against a wall, snapping your heels off, flattening them so you could take longer strides. You weren't the only person using the dark side of the building to escape. A shout, some commotion, and quick footwork as a woman scaled down a building, dropping in front of you.

She was within a foot of you, so close that on motion of the arm could land a hit, a punch, or perhaps push away the strands of hair that lay glued to her sweaty face.

“…Hi?”

She makes eye contact with you, momentarily spooked.

“You’re one of the Metropolis siblings."

A statement, and observation.

"Yes...?"

"You're not supposed to be at this party."

The two of you stared at one another for some time, both of you breathing heavily. She had blue eyes, distinct Scandinavian features. An English accent amongst the native Italian accented english. You pinned her as a foreigner, and from the equipment she used and the quick way she discerned who you were and your presumed whereabouts, she was also an intelligence operative.

“MI6?” you rasped.

The woman shook her head, a flicker of annoyance creeping over her features.

“There’s no time to talk, come on.” she huffed, grabbing you arm and pulling you towards an alleyway.

“Now hold on, I don’t know you-”

She turned on her heel, pulling the two of you into a doorway alcove, keeping her words clipped and quietly delivered.

“You’re (Reader) Metropolis. You were not supposed to be at this party, you weren’t even supposed to be in Italy. Things are going on beyond your understanding, and the Entity-”

“-The Entity? For fucks sake, that’s a myth.”

The woman raised her eyebrow, computing your response rapidly.

“No. No it is not. I’ve read your profile, the youngest child, a ten, fifteen year age gap between you and Alana?” the woman listed. “You were an affair baby, you were just recently integrated into the family, you serve as a glorified accountant…” Ilsa listed. “You aren’t a Metropolis type, even with your name and lineage.”

She spoke so eloquently, in a self-assured manner. You wanted to argue with her, or at the very least find something in her thought process to correct, but she was right on all accounts.

“Fine. Why are we in a dark alleyway, why do you know so much about me, and why don’t I know a damn thing about you?”

The woman squared her shoulders.

“My name is Ilsa Faust. I was a former agent for British Intelligence, I’ve gone rogue, I work alongside the equally rogue Ethan Hunt. And you, Ms. Metropolis, are innocent.”

Innocence. What a strange thing to equate to you.

“I beg your pardon?” you raised an eyebrow.

Ilsa sighed, looking around before pressing a finger to her headset.

“Benji. I can’t be the one to go after Grace.”

You watched her grimace, silently mouthing a few choice expletives.

“I know that. But I just… The youngest Metropolis is here. Metropolis, daughter of Max, the...” she paused, looking at you apologetically, “... Bastard child. The daughter of that old field agent friend of Ethan’s.”

She paused, seemingly listening to Benji as the poor man appeared to panic. You could hear the tonal fluctuations from your proximity a good foot aways.

“Yes, but it’s Ethan. He won’t see it that way. I know he'll be upset, but maybe it’s for the better.”

The line went quiet, and then there was a soft command. Ilsa nodded, looking at you.

“You’re coming with me.”

“Like hell I am, my mother taught me about stranger danger.”

You stood your ground, arms firmly crossed one over the other. Ilsa looked at you tiredly, seeming to mentally prepare herself for some gargantuan task.

“Do me a favor and pretend to be drunk.”

You frowned, not comprehending. Ilsa lunged forward, grabbing you by your waist and pulling you over her shoulder.

“Hey! I’m not a child, and this dress is short!”

Ilsa let out an annoyed huff, reaching up to pull your dress down.

“Sorry, princess.”

You heard commotion, what sounded like men running. Their shouts and mixed dialect could be heard from somewhere a half block away.

“Now is not the time to tell me you’re a bad actor.” Ilsa whispered.

Under threat of exposure, possible abduction and Alanna probably, definitely strangling you should she catch wind of this, complying was the only option. You went limp, arms and neck dangling as the men drew closer. They didn’t give you or Ilsa a second glance. She was mostly overlooked in favor of your bottom, of which you were begrudgingly aware of.

“Good girl.” Ilsa murmured once the men had passed, patting your rear.

“Oh.. Hey!” you blushed.

“Sorry. I was aiming for your back.”

“Yeah, my ass. Literally.” you retorted.

Ilsa let out a startled bark of laughter, amused. But she was quick to set you down, and noting the flimsy nature of your shoes, did so gently. You looked at her, a bit dizzy from the sudden rush of blood from your head to the rest of your body.

“You okay?”

“Give me a second, dizzy.”

But you two had little time. A com from Benji came through on Ilsa’s headset. Ilsa’s face went white, and she proceeded to grab you by your arm, booking it through the winding streets of Venice.

“I’m in heels, you will break my ankle if you keep pulling!” you sourly informed her.

“This is a matter of life and death. Kindly quiet yourself.” Ilsa snapped back.

A matter of life and death? Why was it always one of those? Two figures came into view, both stood atop of a canal bridge. You recognized neither of them, a tall man with salt and pepper hair and another brunette woman. He was stalking over to her, knife in hand. Her breathing was irregular, labored. But Ilsa was faster, approaching Gabriel, assuredly drawing forth a large sword. Gabriel brandished Grace’s switchblade, leaving the woman to pass out on the bridge.

“I hoped it'd be you.” Gabriel smiled.

“...”

You admired Ilsa's silence, her quiet appraisal of the man. The sparring began almost immediately, and it didn’t take a trained eye to see that they were evenly matched. But something was wrong. He was pushing her into a corner, and then the sword was gone. They fought over the switchblade, each getting a few slashes in. But Ilsa was getting weaker, or clumsier. A brief thought flashed over you. What if she died? What if he saw you? What if he saw you and you didn’t have anything to fight with? You needed that sword. This woman... She'd said that this was a matter of the Entity, and your sister had taken pains to ship you out to Berlin on short notice. You'd taken even larger pains to make it appear as if you had. If you weren't supposed to be here, then maybe you had an advantage over this man, over this Entity. But you had to think fast.

“Hey, asshole!” you shouted, hurling a small, fractured chunk of cobblestone at the man.

The rock hit Gabriel’s forehead just as he looked up, stunning him. It was a good hit, and it bought you time, but not enough. You lunged for the sword, but he was faster. The scuffle that ensued was brief, he was better equipped, and stronger. His eyes went wild as he snatched the switchblade again, aiming for your heart. The switchblade cut into your shoulder, and pain bloomed as the blade wedged itself into the socket. He’d missed. A scream tore its way out of your lungs, and white hot pain flashed through your mind’s eye. A grunt came from above as Ilsa landed a kick to his chest. The sword was knocked loose, toppling over the bridge. And with that the only remaining weapon was the switchblade lodged in your shoulder. Both Ilsa and the mystery man lunged for it, but both pulled back before grabbing it, seemingly for different reasons. The man’s eyes went wide with fear and recognition, and he stalked back quickly.

“You’re not supposed to be here, Metropolis.” he paled. “You were supposed to be in Berlin… You’re not… The Entity didn’t..”

He landed one more kick to Ilsa before running. His footsteps were quick, and he disappeared into the veins of the city, his footsteps dying away as if he was a ghost, as if he was never there. Ilsa watched him, breathlessly speaking to Benji about the semantics of the encounter. She was breathing heavily, and it was difficult to understand her. Both she and Benji devolved into thick, almost indiscernible Midlands accents as they spoke and often interrupted one another. Benji’s voice was so loud that you could hear whispers of it through her headset. Ilsa crouched over you, examining the wound and cussing. She appeared just as frazzled as your mystery attacker, mumbling something about innocents and bloodlines.

“Fuck me, kid. Just had to get stabbed.” Ilsa mumbles, pausing her complaining to briefly tear off a bit of your dress, “And I’ve got another head trauma to deal with, and Ethan is off the fucking grid.”

A man broke through the street, panting heavily, eyeing the slowly awakening Grace and the incoherently mumbling Ilsa as she secured the knife wound to prevent it from escaping. He’d run from the opposite end of the city, as if he’d been running in circles.

“Where’s Gabriel?” Ethan asked. “And who is… Baby Metropolis?”

Ilsa eyed him, nodding. She was busy tying the fabric of your torn dress around your shoulder. It must have been precaution, the knife prevented excess blood from escaping.

“He stabbed baby Metropolis?”

Ilsa nodded again, gently picking up your now shivering frame. It was cold in Venice tonight, and without the rush of adrenaline it was very clear just how cold it was. Ethan, or John Lark as you knew him, stumbled forward, hastily taking you from Ilsa.

“It’s going to be okay, it’s all going to be alright.” Ethan says, in his signature ‘I’m saving the day’ voice.

The voice didn’t help. He was John Lark to your eyes; a madman.

“I know, Jesus. Get off!” you protested, trying to get away from the short, scary man.

Ilsa chuckled a bit at this. It appears Ethan’s usual charms wouldn’t work on you, and for good reason. A boat sped through the canal, and you recognized the driver by his voice. Benji? There was another man on the boat, large and equipped with a fedora. Both looked a bit shell-shocked, seeing the aftermath of the commotion on the bridge.

“Luther, get her in the boat.” Benji needlessly directed the other man as he was already pulling Grace in.

Luther examined Grace’s head for signs of abrasion while Ethan and Ilsa lowered you into the boat. Ilsa held you steady, your back pressed against her front, one of her arms wrapped around your midsection, the other cradling your head as the boat sped through the canal once more. Ethan was hastily gloving up, and a brief concern over sterility dawned on you, but it wasn’t as if you had a choice.

“This is a hospital wound.” Ethan sighed.

“We can’t go to the hospital, Ethan.” Luther warned.

“I know that.” Ethan snapped back. “Cover her mouth.” Ethan directed Ilsa.

Ilsa’s hand fitted firmly over your mouth, her other arm holding your torso against hers. You tensed immediately. What the hell was Lark going to do to you?

“Breathe in and…” Ilsa directed.

Ethan pulled the switchblade out as you exhaled, the scream dying off as you ran out of air. The noise that was ultimately muffled by Ilsa’s hand was that of a high pitched wheeze. Ilsa’s hand remained, a wordless understanding between Ethan and Ilsa. Blood gushed from the wound immediately, and Ethan mumbled something about missing major arteries and cut tendons. Not like it mattered to you, Ilsa’s hand kept your head up, your mouth covered.You couldn’t see the damage for yourself.

“Breathe in, and out. In… Out…. In….” she continued.

With another quick jerk, Ethan pushed your shoulder back in its proper socket. This time your scream was much more audible, even with Ilsa muffling it. Grace winced as she watched. The blade had wedged itself into the socket, it wasn’t a pretty sight.

“Good girl, good job.” Ilsa whispered, breaking the tension. “I know it hurts, it would have been worse if you knew it was coming.”

Her hand left your mouth, fingers gently pulling through your hair, a soothing motion. Ethan moved on to stitching up the knife wound, or so you thought. The needle went deeper.

“Oh Jesus Christ…” Grace paled.

You tilted your head to look, but Ilsa was faster, not letting you see. The needle bit in, and you winced. Ethan had a skilled hand, but it was clear he was stitching something deeper.

“Ethan, is that really necessary?” Benji asked. “You’ve got her whole shoulder airing out in this dirty city.

“The tendon was sliced, it needs to be stitched up.”

Luther appeared just off to the side, gloved up and gently dabbing iodine all around and in the wound. It stung like a bitch, and you clenched your teeth as you hissed in pain. Your natural instinct directed you to look again, but Ilsa kept your head in place.

“Don’t look. If you look you’ll get hysterical or ill.” Ilsa murmured. “Now stay still.”

You wanted to stay still, you really did. But you didn’t have a pleasant sight. Grace looked practically green, from both her concussion and the sight of your open wound, and Luther had a worried look on his face. Benji wasn’t better, with that permanent anxious frown on his features. The biting sensation in your shoulder only continued as Ethan worked on stitching up the various tendons that had gotten cut. It was Ilsa who noticed your rapid, panicked breathing.

“No, no.” Ilsa protested, tilting your face to look at her. “Look at me, breathe in and out, none of this ragged panting you’re doing. You’re not going into shock, we don’t have time for that.”

Her stern, authoritative approach was what you needed to stay afloat in the midst of Ethan’s suturing. She had this soft frown on her face, her hand firmly holding your head in place as she murmured to you.

“Benji is driving us to the safehouse. You’re coming with us, you hear?”

Ilsa outlined the plan, the various things she was going to do, baths, medicine, sleep, food. All the things you would need to get better. By the time Ethan started suturing the skin, her nose was barely touching yours, her words floating over you like mist. She kept your head in place, murmuring softly as her blue eyes twinkled in the dim light. It was… Intimate. More intimate than other things you’d experienced. Why was it always the barrier between life and death, ailment and health that always brought forth the most romantic moments. It was something your mother had said… All friendships are romantic. Perhaps all beginnings of friendships could be interpreted as such.

“Iodine.” Ethan curtly directed

The yellow antiseptic stung, and you winced. Luther had a gentle hand, and he’d used it throughout the process, but it was the freshly sutured skin that burned the most. Ilsa stroked your cheek, shifting her other arm to hold your injured shoulder in place. You hadn’t even noticed that you’d been trying to move it.

“No moving this, you hear?”

“Wasn’t gonna.” you mumbled.

The boat stalled. Benji stood up, gesturing everyone to leave the boat, but his words died in his throat. His eyes bulged, a shocked expression on his face. The shot had been so quiet, the whizzing was all that had been audible. Benji jerked, and red bloomed at the front of his chest. Ethan was quick to support him, still gloved up from his work on you. The quiet moment of the canal was broken. Everyone was moving except you. There was arguing, many voices crumpled into one echochamber of chaos, Grace holding Benji as Luther held Ethan back. For a little man, Ethan was vicious when angry, intending to follow the unseen sniper and mercilessly deliver his body to the canal. The boat rocked violently, and Ilsa shouted continuously, mostly at Ethan to calm down. Her grip on you was tight, her hands placed over vital areas on your abdomen. She was protecting you should another shot fire. Benji met your eyes, his hand held over the gunshot wound. He looked gray, as if life had been sucked out of him the moment the bullet hit its target.

“Gabriel was going to send a message either way.” Benji rasps, his voice bringing sense back into Ethan.

Ilsa left you on the boat as she helped Grace carry Benji into the safehouse. It was clear that there would be no second shot, and you were safe in the belly of the boat. Ethan breathed irregularly, the muscles in his neck tensing and relaxing as he seemed to be pushing aside his anger. He too left the boat, leaving Luther to attend to you. There was an uneasy stillness in the air, and Luther moved to pick you up, pausing at the brief fear that appeared in your eyes.

“I’m… You don’t know who most of us are, do you?” he asked, intuitive in more ways than one.

You shook your head, taking a breath in to steady your nerves before answering.

“I know… Ilsa. Ilsa Faust, yeah? Umm.. Then there’s Lark. John Lark.”

You’d heard all of their names at least once, but you couldn’t list them in the aftermath of Benji’s snipe attack.

“That’s Ethan.” Luther corrected. “The brunette is Grace, Benji is the Englishman who’s been injured, and I’m Luther. Now let’s get you out of this boat.” he softly finished.

You pegged him as the gentle giant of the group, and he was. Gentle, at least. He carried you off of the boat, up the stairs into the Venetian safehouse. It was as still as the water outside. Why was it so still? Such a large city, and yet it felt like a ghost town. There were no arguments now. Grace sat in a corner, a bag of peas on her head. Ethan and Ilsa were in a separate room, quietly conversing as they treated Benji, as you presumed they were doing. No hospitals, they’d said. What kind of people couldn’t go to hospitals?

“Here’s some of Ilsa’s clothes. Tank top, and sweats. Bathroom’s over there.” Luther pointed.

He stepped into the room with his other friends. It was the only room with light in the stone house. The clothes looked fresh, and your dress was dirty and torn. You didn’t see the point in maintaining your privacy with Grace staring off into space and the others presumably holding vigil over Benji. But it was difficult, grabbing the zipper. Gabriel had struck you in your more flexible, left shoulder. You couldn’t grab the zipper with your right hand.

“Here.” Grace murmured, getting up to unzip your dress. “It’s just us girls, let’s get you into these.”

Grace gently pulled off your dress, working the tank top over your injured shoulder and sliding the joggers up your body. You noticed her tired movements. She’d suffered a pretty decent blow to the head. Concussions were no joke. From this distance you could clearly make out the lines around her mouth as she pursed her lips, helping you to dress.

“Thanks. Grace, right?” you quietly asked, breaking the unnatural stillness.

She nodded, brown eyes losing their glassy look.

“Yes. You’re Baby Metropolis?”

“Oh, no my name is (Reader) Metropolis. I’m the baby of the family.” you explained.

“Ah.”

Grace settled beside you on the couch. Her shirt was half unbuttoned. But it didn’t matter. It was just us girls.

“He’s not going to make it.” Grace murmured. “If he was going to live, they should have taken him to a hospital the moment he was shot.”

You looked down at your hands, the constant pain in your shoulder contrasting with the numbness everywhere else. Benji. He’d… Somehow he was important. A piece of the puzzle, someone who struck you as innocent. Perhaps that was why his death seemed so irrational.

“Are you in pain?” Grace realized. “That’s a dumb question, of course you are.”

She got up, rummaging through an open medical bag until she found what she was looking for. Her footsteps were soft, bare feet delicately navigating the creaky floorboards with practiced agility. She was a con of some sort. No one else would instinctively avoid the creaky floorboards of an old house.

“Take two of these.” she says.

“Extra strength tylenol?” you joked.

“Stronger.” Grace murmured, half-smile on her face.

You nodded, taking the meds. There was nothing in your stomach, so the meds dissolved quickly, taking away the pain in as little as fifteen minutes. They came with a distinct drowsy side effect, as if the world was a bit floaty. Grace wasn’t the only one who was anxious to sleep, and the two of you crept into the larger bedroom after finding a few croissants to snack on. Two king beds and empty dressers, divided into girls and boys, or so you presumed. The two of you settled under the covers, closing your eyes. Sleep came quickly. Somewhere in the twilight of the early morning, Ilsa slid into the bed behind you, an arm draped over your abdomen as you laid on your back. You didn’t need the answer to why she was so clingy. Or perhaps you had it wrong. But you wouldn’t protest this stranger’s touches. No, there was a bond there now. You’d survived such an ordeal together, such a crisis as the one you were bound in. And it felt nice, to be sandwiched in between Grace and Ilsa. You were safe here.

Morning broke, but the sun did not break this quiet. There wasn’t a word spoken. The atmosphere in the room was somber. No one needed to say it, Benji had passed. Ethan’s dead look as he sat on the couch confirmed any suspicion. Luther cooked breakfast for everyone, maintaining a sense of normality. Ethan wouldn’t accept any of Ilsa’s soft attempts to bring him food, and he wouldn’t accept her beside him, either. The Entity had taken a divergent route in its predictions. Grace and Ilsa had been failed targets, so the Entity chose to take Ethan Hunt’s friend instead. And Ethan, being the savior he was, took it hard.

“Over here.” Grace murmured, gesturing Ilsa over to where the both of you sat.

Ilsa settled on the rug, predictably taking a seat next to you. She didn’t outright drape an arm over you, but her knee touched yours. It was a soft, innocent gesture. She wanted closeness, and you did too. Your knees stayed touching. Grace noticed the little dynamic between the two of you, shifting a little closer so she could get in on it too. Her knee came into contact with yours on the other side. Three pairs of feet lined up, three legs nestled close, shoulders flanking yours on both sides. It was cute, and you giggled, triggering Grace’s laugh too. Ilsa smiled, humming in amusement. And for a brief moment, Ethan’s eyes flickered with something other than sorrow. He picked up the plate Ilsa had left on the coffee table. And he ate.

<-->

#rebecca ferguson x you #rebecca ferguson x reader #rebecca ferguson #ilsa faust x you #ilsa faust x reader #mission impossible #mission impossible dead reckoning part one #wlw #lesbian

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ohtobeleah · 1 year

Note

Slow, lazy, morning sex with Bobby boy #strictlyscandalous

Oh baby. This one–now this one resonated with me deeply.

Warnings: This is Strictly Scandalous, Smut ahead.

***~***~***~***~***~***~***

Imagine it. Maybe it's the morning after Robert ‘Bob’ Floyd gets back from the uranium mission. The night of his return after six agonising weeks away–Bob is just collapsing into your warm embrace in the car port of the little cobblestone house that you share. New home owners, newlyweds, so new in fact the ink on the paperwork Bob had to hand into his higher ups to have you put down as his emergency contacts and his next of kin had barely even dried.

Bob barely makes it out of the shower before his eyes are betraying him, he's a tired man but oh how he's missed his darling wife, his best friend. You know what's about to happen, Bob will climb into bed, freshly showered, shaved and in his thing one pyjama shirt. You of course his thing two. He’ll climb under the covers, exhale a sigh of relief because he made it home to you once again and all's right with the world.

Bob will kiss your cheek, kiss your neck and he’ll try to initiate something because the heart wants what the heart wants and what Bob Floyd wants every second of every day is the touch and feel of his beloved wife.

But that's not what happens. No. What happens is Robert FLoyd is asleep in about three minutes, his head resting in your chest as you read your latest murder mystery under the dim light of your bedside lamp. Reading glasses perched on your nose while the gentle snores of your husband filled the silence.

He's home, your fingernails rack through his damp locks, pushing the strands behind his ears until you know for sure that Bob is out cold for the night.

“Welcome home my superman.” You coo as you kiss the top of Bob's head. “You can rest now baby.” And that's exactly what Bob does until the early morning sun is kissing your skin, coaxing you from the embrace you found yourself in. Bob the big spoon, yourself the little spoon. Skin to skin because somewhere throughout the night you had both shed your matching T-shirts. The Lamoore heat must have taken two more victims–but neither you nor Bob were all that pressed. The only thing between you would have been your matching underwear. (Lame was your thing, as it was Bobs.)

“Good Morning Mrs Floyd.” Bob mumbled through a thick haze of southern mannerisms. You had missed his husky morning drawl with every fibre of your being. “How's my favourite girl doin?”

“So much better now that you’re home, Lietanent Floyd.” This very well may have been your honeymoon, you had everything pre-booked and paid for until Bob was getting that last minute request for that special detachment back at Miramar. “How's my government owned husband doing this morning?” You teased, there was nothing about the military you liked except for your husband. Bob simply pulled you further into him in response, mumbling against your neck as his eyes stayed closed and his breathing laboured.

“He's doing good, I missed you so much.” Bob coos. “I’ll spend a lifetime making up the fact we didn't get to go on our honeymoon, baby.” Bob knew deep down you were still a little upset over the fact it wasn't something the two of you got to experience, spending the five of the first six weeks you'd been a married woman on your own in your newly purchased house, while your husband very well risked his life. “But for now I just wanna lay here with you.”

You weren't going to deny Bob of his request, you were pretty content to lay in bed with Bob all day if that's what he wanted to do on his first full day of leave. But there was something pressing up against your ass you couldn't not acknowledge. Some incredibly hard and oh so thick that you had missed just as much as you had missed your husband.

“You just wanna lay here huh baby?” Bob can hear it in your voice, the delight his erection brings you is basically dripping from your tongue, making you drip at the thought of feeling Bob slip inside you after six agonising weeks alone. Nothing compared to Bob. no toy, no website, nothing. “What if I said I'm rather intrigued by what I can feel pressing against my ass right now.”

“I'd say I'm rather compelled to cure your curiosity.” In the early hours of the morning, Bob is pulling his boxer briefs down his china white thighs, it wasn't often they saw the light of day. Kissing your shoulder lazily as you push up against him. Bob groaned as he gave himself a few pumps, moving around the pre-cum that had oozed out of his tip to use it as a lubricant. Feeling you rid yourself of your panties in a fast stitch effort to settle back against him just as he was ready to push into you slowly, both laying on your sides.

“Ohhh–baby missed you so much.” Bob sighs in relief as he slides in between your slick lips, pushing into you with ease as you help to guide him in, reaching up and around your shoulder to cup his cheek. “Ohhh god, I missed you so much, wifey.” Bob doesn't move straight away when he finally buries himself inside you enough for the both of you to feel satisfied. He just stays pressed against you as he continuously kisses your shoulder.

“Always thought about you Lieutenant.” Your moans echoed off the walls that were still coated in darkness that the sun creeping into your room had yet to reach. “Every time I came when you weren't here your name slipped past my lips, wish you were here.” Bob moved as you softly moaned in response to his pace. “Bob, baby you feel so good.”

“Oh trust me–” There had been many times in the shower or back in his dorm that Bob had jerked off to the thought of you. “I was doing the same damn thing.” It made your heart skip a beat, to know Bob touched himself to the thought of you. Oh how you’d love to be a fly on the wall whenever he had his cock in his fist, straining at the thought of you as he worked himself towards an orgasm.

“Fuck, please go a little faster baby.” You whimpered as Bob reached around lazily to rub soft curled against your sensitive bundle of nerves, as he slowly thrust into you you were rocking back against him. You didn't even have your eyes open, Bob was talking out of the corner of his mouth. The sun had yet to truly rise and things were slow and laxity and the furthest things from needy and rushed. You had time, time in abundance. “Fuugghh–”

“Like that, do you Mrs Floyd?” Bob asked through a southern drawl as he hooked his chin into your shoulder, rocking his hips into you and you did with him.

“Shhh, too early.” Bob couldn't help but to laugh as you mumbled out a groan, the way you were moving your hips back into him told him all he needed to know. “But please baby, don't stop.”

“Just tell me what you want me to do baby and I’ll do it.” Bob was a pleasure, all he ever wanted was to listen to you moan his name, feel you clench around him, and make you his wife from the moment he first met you. He was pretty chuffed that the last one had been recently crossed off his short but very meaningful bucket list. “You wanna cum on my cock Mrs Floyd?”

“Mmhmm—“ Bob never let up in his slow, sloppy pace. He continued to circled his fingertips around your throbbing bundle of nerves and fucked slow into you. “Mmmm Bob baby wanna cum for you.”

“Holy shit if I hadn’t already asked I’d ask you to marry me—“ Bob smiled against your back as he let his forehead rest against your shoulder blade. “Cum for me baby, missed how pretty you look when you cum for me.”

There was a moment where you let your head fall back, a moan escaping as you whimpered Bob's name. Reaching up and around for him as you tensed and the tsunami of pleasure he brought to you washed over your body.

“Such a good wifey Mrs Floyd, you sound so pretty saying my name.” Bob smiled against your neck as he picked up the pace just a little bit, using your cunt to get him exactly where he needed to go. “I’m with you baby, right behind you.” He was. Bob was right there—he could feel his own orgasm pooling at the base of his shift as his balls tapped against the curve of your ass with every sloppy lazy thrust he gave you. “Ahhh—arrggg uhhh baby!” Bob cried as he came.

“Missed hearing you moan baby.” You coax him through, a thin layer of sweat over your forehead. “So hot—“

“Fuck your still clenching around me sweetheart, milking me for everything I’ve got.” You could feel Bob jolt against you, his voice strained as he sighed in pure ecstasy.

“You wanna say like this all morning?” You asked softly as you felt Bob shift inside you— softening, but never pulling out. He was content where he was, your ass in his crotch, his cock creamy and coated, plunged deep inside you. Unless it was life threatening Bob wasn’t moving as he tilted your head to kiss your cheek. Letting his head fall back against the pillow as he wrapped his arms around your waist—pulling you flush against him.

“Absolutely—i'm not going anywhere.”

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~

Strictly Scandalous Robert ‘Bob’ Floyd

#ohtobeleah 3k celebration #strictly scandalous robert ‘bob’ floyd #strictly scandalous #robert bob floyd #top gun bob #bob x reader #bob floyd imagine #bob top gun #bob floyd smut

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missjadesfics · 16 days

Text

Happy Valentine's, Mr Sandman

Morpheus x Reader dividers: @cafekitsune Request: Yes Summary: Y/n and Morpheus spend their first Valentine's together. Warnings: none; Morpheus just being cute Word Count: 1k Disclaimer: I don't own The Sandman or its characters, nor do I claim them as my own. Comments, likes, and reblogs are always appreciated xx

Morpheus had never made time for such an event that the mortals called Valentine’s Day. But in recent year he retrieved his helm and sand and restored the Dreaming. He felt that his affairs were in order; everything was where it should be. He visited the Waking world, strolling down the cobblestone path, his silver eyes wandering amongst the happy faces of adults and children. A slight tug appeared on the corner of his lips, seeing a little boy jump up and down at getting a lollipop from his mother. Morpheus tucked his hands into his coat pockets before stopping at a flower stand. He admired the various colours and arrangements of bouquets. He smiled, noticing some particular flowers; the vendor walked over with a smile. “Hello, how can I help you?” He asked Morpheus, who was admiring the flowers, “Yes, my friend, I am hoping to acquire some of your flowers for my beloved. You wouldn’t happen to have some wisteria, would you?” Morpheus asked curiously. The vendor clicked his fingers.

“I do happen to have some; I like to always have some on hand in case someone wants to add them to their bouquet” he knelt, grabbing a small crate filled with vibrant purple wisteria. Nodding in approval, Morpheus smiled. “I would like some along with others if you could make me something,” Morpheus said; the vendor nodded enthusiastically. “Of course. Are there any other favourites?” Morpheus’s eyes gazed around; he pointed out the other favourites as the vendor put them together, tying them with a ribbon. Delicately placing them in a decorative basket, Morpheus thanked the vendor and paid him before continuing his walk down the street. Morpheus found a chocolate stand and bought some specialty chocolates.

Looking at Big Ben, he wondered what the time was. “Excuse me, do you have the time?” He asked a gentleman passing by, “Eleven fifteen” Morpheus thanked him. He still had fifteen minutes, plenty of time to get where he needed to go. Picking up his pace, he came to his destination; he sighed, knocking on the door as he waited on the front steps. A girl opened the door. She had a big smile on her face “Steve-oh Morpheus, hi”, She laughed. Morpheus nodded his head. “Hello Jane, I was hoping Y/n was here?” He asked; hopefully, Jane nodded and moved aside. “She is so lucky and right in the living room. Y/n, your man is here!” Jane shouted as she waved goodbye to Morpheus, walking out the door, most likely to find Steve, her boyfriend.

Morpheus poked his head with a grin forming on his lips Y/n jumped up from the couch. “Morpheus! I thought you couldn’t make it,” Y/n gasped. Morpheus frowned. “If Lucinene can’t manage the Dreaming for at least one day for me. Then that is an issue.” He smiled, making Y/n’s heart flutter with his words. “And how could I not want to spend the day with you?” He handed her the flowers and chocolates Y/n and touched her mouth. “Oh, Morpheus, they are beautiful. Wisteria!? Where did you find this?” She admired the flowers. Morpheus smirked with a wink as he looked at the flowers, his fingers touching the petals gingerly. “I have my ways”, he murmured with a raised brow Y/n put the flowers in a vase with water and put them on the counter, sitting beside the chocolates. She wrapped her arms around Morpheus, hugging him tightly. “Thank you, I love them”, she kissed his cheek and clapped her hands. “I also have something for you.” She grabbed a small wrapped gift and put it in Morpheus’s hands with a cheeky smile.

Morpheus looked at it strangely and shook it; he grinned, making Y/n laugh. “Open it, you” She bit her lip anxiously, waiting as Morpheus unwrapped the gift, his eyes softened at the present. He looked up at Y/n, his lips parted, pulling out the small ruby stone. “I understand your other ruby was destroyed when you and that incident you don’t like to tell me about. My father recently returned from a business trip and came across this beautiful gem. I asked him to buy it for me so I could give it to you. Do you like it?” She asked nervously. Morpheus felt his heart skip a beat, putting the gemstone back in the box, and he nodded. “I do; I love it, thank you, my darling” He kissed her head and sighed. “I do have one more gift for you. Close your eyes,” He whispered Y/n did as he asked and closed her eyes. Morpheus pulled a ring out of his pocket and fell on one knee. “Can I open my eyes now, Morpheus?” Morpheus chuckled and spoke softly, “Yes” Y/n’s eyes fluttered open, and looking down, her eyes widened.

Morpheus cleared his throat. “Y/n, you know that I, as an Endless, have lived a thousand lifetimes. I have seen love grow and fall through time, and I have never felt the way I have with anyone as I do with you. I have seen your dreams and nightmares. I want to share every moment with you, the highs and the lows. I want you, all of you. My love, any kingdom can have a King, but a King is nothing without his Queen. The most important chess piece, the light of his life. The centre of his heart and affections. So, would you do me the honour of marrying me?”

Morpheus breathed a smile gracing his face Y/n felt tears in her eyes as she nodded. “Yes, Morpheus, oh my goodness, yes” “ she gasped. Morpheus slid the moonstone ring onto her finger, standing on his feet. “It’s so…beautiful, Morpheus” She gazed at the ring. Morpheus smiled. “It came from the Dreaming. Therefore, its connection with you will forever be bonded. And your connection with me comes within our hearts and souls. Wherever I am, near or far, I’ll always be there for you. A King’s duty is to his Queen; her heart and happiness come first. I will always make sure of it,” He whispered, his silver eyes staring into Y/n’s eyes. “I love you, Y/n, forever and always” Morpheus raked his fingers through her hair, and Y/n smiled. “I love you too, Dream of the Endless. Forever and always.” She brushed her nose with his as his lips softly pressed to hers, her arms wrapped around his neck. Pulling apart for air, Morpheus pressed his head to Y/n’s gently, looking into one another’s eyes.

“Happy Valentine’s, Mr Sandman” Y/n laughed lightly. Morpheus chuckled, shaking his head at her comment. His head tilted back, his eyes cast down as he raised a brow, humming lightly before murmuring, “Happy Valentine’s indeed.”

#fluff #morpheus #morpheus x reader #the sandman #tom sturridge #dream of the endless #dream of the endless x reader #missjadesfics #my fic #request #requests open

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