#even if it was for a brief moment in her life
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First Drabble after a month or so… Anyway, reader is a bisexual man, deal with it. Kinks are: voyeurism, spanking, dubcon, cucking, manhandling, praise, lite feminization. Brief mention of m/f sex but reader is a bottom and is mentioned to have a cock. BDSM relationship. Tw. Girlfriend is a bit abusive so skip this if bad doms bother you 🫶🏼 no set character, but I gave him a name! A little long tbh, not even a Drabble anymore
The things you do to make your girlfriend.
“Ohhh! Gimme more, Mark.”
You roll your eyes, checking your phone as your girlfriend gets her pussy fucked by your “friend” Mark. They were too busy having the time of their life to notice you stopped paying attention to them.
Your girlfriend, Lizzy, just loved this whole cuck fantasy shit. Whatever made her happy. You tried many other times to tell you that you didn’t necessarily like it but she always somehow made you the bad guy.
It was your first relationship dealing with BDSM, she was more than likely right since she had loads of relationships before you.
Right? She wouldn’t use your naivety to her advantage… right?
Hah.
Anyway, she loved making you watch other guys fuck her. Especially if their dick was bigger than yours. Though you didn’t like her saying your four inches was small.
Some guys had two inches, you were perfectly fine.
She began moaning something about how big he was, you didn’t really care at this point. You didn’t even know if you liked this whole BDSM thing. Sure, being the submissive was cool at first but now it just felt… eh?
You certainly hated her way of being a sadist. You hated being a masochist. It wasn’t fun.
But, whatever makes her happy. She’s freaking Lizzy Powers, the hot girl from your university. Every guys falls for her.
There was particularly high pitched yelp that caused you to look up in concern but it seemed Mark had just manhandled her into another position. You huffed and just went back to watching TikTok thirst traps.
The few times you looked at them to pretend you actually cared, Mark seemed set at staring right at you. His thrusts would always get faster each time. Weirdo.
Mark was popular, just like Lizzy. Loved by many girls (and guys). He was supposedly good natured and kinda but you kinda found him creepy, especially right now.
Was there something on your face???
“Ooh, (Name)~!” Lizzy whined, “he’s so much better than you… Just look at how well he fucks my pussy.”
She looked over at you—you quickly forced a frown. She loved seeing you “upset” about the other guy fucking her. Something about getting you to try harder when you fucked her the next day.
It worked the first time, but after that, you stopped caring. You kinda stopped caring to fuck her as well. It wasn’t even that she was fucking all these other guys. Something just kept bothering you.
Maybe the fact she didn’t go on regular dates with you and there didn’t seem to be an end to the dominate actions she had.
A shrill voice filled the room, Lizzy was cumming. You used to always love seeing this part—just seeing your gorgeous girl coming undone.
Eh, you’ve seen it before. These days, you found yourself watching the guy fucking her instead of her. Which was bad, that was cheating, or at least that’s what Lizzy had told you.
So you made sure to not look at Mark as much. Mark pulled out and rolled off his condom, tossing it into the trash bin next to the bed. The loud sound of music was still ringing downstairs from the party.
You would’ve thought this dumb party would’ve been done by now. “Was that it?” You asked, standing up. “I have a test tomorrow so I need to get back to my dorm.”
There was a moment of silence as Lizzy and Mark stared at you. Mark simply nodded and moved to put his jacket and shoes back on. Lizzy however, looked furious. She stood up abruptly, putting on her dress and stormed over to you.
Oh no.
You knew that look. She was about to “discipline”you. Her punishments were so humiliating—you hated it so much. 
You fought back the urge to roll your eyes. Her anger radiated off her face. Though she only stood to your chest, she managed to make your heart drop. There was no fun in this. But isn’t this what these relationships involve?
This was just how it was.
Her harsh words began spilling out, probably promising a punishment once you reached your dorm. Or possibly even when Mark left. But knowing her, she’d get a kick out of him watching.
Maybe you should’ve gotten a different girlfriend. This one doesn’t exactly make you happy. The thought couldn’t go any further though when Mark cleared his throat, ending Lizzy’s tyranny with ease.
“Your submissive isn’t exactly listening to you. I don’t mean to pry,” though the smirk on his lips tells you otherwise. “He looks legitimately scared. No sense of pleasure in him.”
Lizzy scoffed. “And you can do better? He’s just new to this, but it seems to be taking forever for him to listen to me.” She said, harshly poking at your chest with her finger. You try not to show any emotion from the slight pain.
“I can. But that’s if you want your submissive to get a taste of what’s better.”
A pin could be dropped and it would’ve made more noise. You watch in awe as Lizzy practically turned pink in the face. Wow, you’d never seen her this anger. There was silent rage in her eyes before she pulled a quick smile.
“Sure. He’s all yours.”
But Mark looked over at you. He stood up and took off his jacket, walking over to you with a look of determination. “Do you want it?”
“W..wha..?” You whispered, feeling dwarfed against his tall height. Jesus, does he play volleyball or basketball??
“Do you…” his hand slowly reached up, gently grabbing your chin before forcing you to look up at him. Oh. “…want me to touch you? Show you real pleasure.”
“….yes…”
His lips pulled into a slight smirk. “Good boy.”
So here you are, pants less. Mark was kinda enough to let you keep your sweater on. Lizzy was sitting at the desk chair you once were. You felt bad for whoever’s frat brother’s room you guys were in. Poor guy.
“Do you know why you’re being punished?” Mark suddenly said, sitting on the bed as he patted his lap.
You huffed and moved over to where he was. “Attitude probably.” You muttered, looking down at the bed sheets. Ooh, sport cars.
A tug at your sweater caused you to yelp as you were forced to look Mark in the eye. “Look me in the eye when you’re speaking to me.” With little force, he pulled you to drape over his thighs. They were quite muscular. Hm, maybe soccer?
You could feel Lizzy’s harsh glare on your body. It was just reminding you that she was so pissed over you having a slight attitude. Gosh, we doms all like this? You were seriously considering if you wanted to stay in this type of relationship.
Mark’s hand gently gripped your butt, softly massaging it. “I don’t think you deserve a punishment, but I’m going off what your dom wants. This can be really easy, (Name). Just count, okay? I’ll only go to ten.”
“Just ten?” Lizzy cut in.
“Ten is enough. He didn’t do anything terrible.” Mark countered. “Was I even speaking to you?”
You didn’t want to know the look Lizzy gave him. His hand gripped your ass before he released it, gently tapping it.
“(Name), what’s your safe word?”
You blinked, “what’s that?”
There was a tense silence. You tried to look up but Mark quickly pushed your head back down.
“Just whenever you want to stop. In case it’s too much.”
“Oh uhm. Stop should work fine, no?”
“Alright. You can always say red as well. Yellow would be if you just want a breather, okay?”
“Oh… would green be for keep going?”
Mark hummed, gently massaging your butt. “Mhm. Aren’t you smart?”
You blushed slightly. Oh, that was nice. When was the last time Lizzy complimented you?
“Starting now.”
You prepared for the worst. Whenever Lizzy spanked you, it was torture. Just hit after hit with no room to breathe. Didn’t help she would use those whips. It took you awhile to convince her to just use her hand.
Sometimes the damn thing would just start hitting your thighs or back. It was like she was purposefully missing your ass.
Smack!
Oh. What were you supposed to do? You could’ve sworn you were supposed to say something. That felt so weird, but you felt your toes practically curl as a gasp left your lips. He must’ve had experience doing this…
He gently rubbed the slight curve of your hip. “C’mon, count for me.”
Oh right. Counting…
“O..One.”
It went on, each time you momentarily went blank in the head. This wasn’t anything like Lizzy’s spankings. Mark was spanking you hard, definitely, but there still was a slight softness to it.
Hmm, you could probably revisit spanking.
“Ten…” You muttered, sighing in slight relief that it was over. You gently got up from Mark’s lap, ready to pull your pants back up but he pulled your back down.
“What are you doing?” He asked, rubbing your sore cheeks. You heard the sound of a container being opened before a cooling substance was rubbing onto your skin. It was pure relief. A relaxed hum left your throat.
Lizzy coughed, breaking the moment. You almost forgot she was there. “Are you done with my boyfriend?”
“Hm, no. His moans were cute, I want to hear how he sounds cumming on my cock.” He said bluntly, causing you to blush in pure embarrassment. His cock?! He was going to fuck you?!
Lizzy sputtered as she stood up. “What?! That’ll be cheating!”
“It’s just cucking. A man can cuck a woman.”
“But—”
“—It’s only fair (Name) can cuck you too.”
It was wrong. But his words made you grin. Cucking her back? Oh that sounded fun. Finally, she could feel how you felt.
“Okay.” You suddenly said, removing yourself off Mark’s lap. “You can fuck me.” You weren’t scared about anything going into your butt. Lizzy has fucked you with a strap before, those were the few times you had the most fun during sex with her.
Shame she never wanted to do after the two times.
You grabbed the lube that was left on the nightstand from Lizzy and Mark’s previous fuck and drizzled a decent amount onto your fingers. Sitting down on the bed, you began to stretch your ass open.
It was pretty easy, you did masturbate this morning with a dildo. The entire time, Mark just stared at you with hunger, his eyes watching your hole swallow your fingers with ease. He was probably expecting some type of resistance.
“I’m ready.” You muttered, moving to get into a doggy position but Mark grabbed your hand. A shriek left you as he picked you up with ease and plopped you down into his lap.
This position… was embarrassing to say the least. Your legs were wide open, your cock hard against your tummy. Lizzy was literally right across from you, seeing everything. You squirmed, wondering why Mark was so set in humiliating you.
His lips suddenly pressed against your ear, his chin resting on your shoulder. The sound of his zipper and slight shuffling filled your ears as his cock slipped out. Holy shit. He was definitely huge… maybe 7 inches??
“I want…” his hand reached up and grabbed your chin, forcing you to look Lizzy straight in the eye. “Miss Powers here to see you cum on my cock, seeing you become my pretty little slut.”
Your cock twitched. His cock pressed against your ass, gently teasing your hole. Slowly, he lowered you down, letting the stretch become comfortable.
He was definitely huge. You didn’t understand how Lizzy took this thing without crying out in pain? Once he was fully in, you let out a shaky breath, gripping his hand that held your hip.
“Good boy. You’re taking me well.” He whispered, pressing a kiss on your neck. “Now move.���
“What?”
“Ride me.” Mark simply said, gently patting your thighs.
Holy fucking shit. You were supposed to ride this guy while your girlfriend watches? Jesus. You moved slightly, gripping his thighs as a way to hold yourself help as you began bouncing up and down.
The sounds of skin slapping filled the room, your soft moans right behind it. This was better than any strap. You could feel him inside you—his heat. A shudder left you when his cock pressed against your prostate. You quickly tried to keep that position, gasping at the constant pressure.
You practically forgot Lizzy was even there. All you cared about was getting off.
No, all you cared about was making sure Mark was enjoying it.
That was a first.
You glanced down, wanting to see if Mark was enjoying himself. The sight caused your hips to stutter. He was staring right at you, a smirk on his face. His free hand was gripping at your ass, pulling the cheeks apart slightly.
He broke eye contact to look down at your hole, laughing slightly. “It’s so cute. Hey, I’m your first real one huh?”
“Y..Yeah..”
“Good. I’ll be your only too.” He said, delivering a harsh spank on your ass. A scream escaped your lips as you stopped for a moment, trying to process everything that was happening.
First and only? What?!
“Hey, why’d you stop?” His hands suddenly had your waist in its grasp as he pulled you back. You were once again looking at Lizzy, seeing her pure anger. Gosh, you were really betraying your girlfriend.
“Why are you treating him so gently?” Lizzy suddenly commented.
Mark hummed. “It’s his first time. You always gotta treat beginners like glass. Once he’s properly trained… I’ll fuck him like the whore he is.”
“Whore..?” You muttered, but before you could ask why he kept calling you stuff like that, he was suddenly making you bounce up and down on his cock. It was so sudden, so fast and made your previous movement seem like nothing.
If this is him treating you like glass, you wondered just how mean he got…
Your back arched as you cried out, resting your head on his back as the pleasure began to take over. It was so much. But you wanted more. You just knew he could do more.
You wanted it so bad.
You were too lost in the pleasure to even notice that Lizzy left until the sound of a door slamming caught your attention. “Hng…? Why’d she..?”
“Fucking finally.” Mark muttered, pulling you off his cock. You whimpered, feeling your cock leak dejectedly with pre-cum. He plopped you down on the bed and pushed your legs up, putting you in a mating press.
His cock easily slid back inside as he leaned down, grinning. “Now that she’s out of the way, I have you all to myself.” He whispered, his hips moving upwards in harsh staccato type motion. Each slap caused a struggled gasp to leave you in tandem.
“Been hearing all about how you were just her little cuck. Using you because you knew nothing about how these type of relationships work..” he mumbled, a groan leaving his lips when you clenched around his cock.
You couldn’t even care about what he was talking about. You just wanted to cum already. This position was so odd, you didn’t even know your body could fold this far.
“You don’t have to worry about that anymore, baby. I’ll make sure you enjoy yourself as mine.”
“Y..yours..? What..? Ngh, did you..”
“Fuck her to get to you?” He laughed, leaning down to kiss your lips. You blushed, shocked that the kiss was so sweet compared to the sinful thrusting. “Yeah, anything for you.”
Anything for you…? You didn’t get to truly understand just how deranged that sounded when he began to roughly fuck you. He managed to push your legs even further as he draped himself over your body, ravaging you like a cheap slut.
Your screams and his grunts mixed together as you gripped at the sheets beneath you for type of stability. If that stupid loud music from downstairs wasn’t still playing you were sure everyone would be able to tell you were getting your stomach rearranged.
“(Name)…”
You let out a strangled hum.
“Your pussy is tighter than hers.”
Yaaaay… first post back! Feel really proud of this one, though I didn’t mean to make it longer than a usual Drabble, felt like I had to add a lot of stuff before the porn… lmao.
@the-ultimate-librarian @mello-life25 @chill-guy-but-cooler @kiiyoooo @iwishtobeacrow @star-3214 @smellwell @ofclyde @flurrina @tehyunnie @remdayz @love-kha1 @mooncarvers-world @rhetorical-conscience @tomoeroi
#bottom male reader#x male reader#uke male reader#sub male reader#male reader#mlm ns/fw#smut drabble#mlm nsft#x male smut#male bottom reader
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And so, the stars aligned. Pt 5
Azriel x Archeron!Sister reader
Summary: Now in the Spring Court, you arrive at the ball. Fancy dinners, and suitors, await…but where was Azriel?
Warnings: Mentions of past trauma. (Brief)
Ageless and Minors DNI
part one, part two, part three, part four.
Masterlist
Requests are open!!
a/n: Before starting!! I based a lot of the balls and stuff off of Bridgerton/ Regency era stuff because, well - that's a lot of what I know! Plus, Prythian seems to be old-fashioned still in that kinda way. Also! You're referred to a 'lean' once. That's most because of how SJM describes the Fae having longer limbs and such. I didn't know a better way to word it.
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Stepping Foot into the Spring Court was like seeing a real life fairy tale. Lush green grass, stretched for miles. Tree and flowers in full bloom, like they never withered in the first place. Flowers that would have made Elain jealous, blooming along. The air was warm, but a gentle breeze helped keep you cool. It was perfect.
And flying with Arizel was even more perfect. His strong, sturdy arms kept you close. You could feel his strong, powerful wings with every flap. His back tightening and loosening like a well oiled machine. You were jealous of his ability to fly. Especially in lands like these. "Hold on, y/n." His voice was gentle, it was a request. If you didn't hold on, you suspected it make him hold onto you tighter. But you obliged. Wrapping your arms around his neck as you began your descent. You couldn't help but let out a small giggle when Azriel got hit in the face by a petal. The small flower clung to his nose, and you quickly helped him out.
"The flowers like you, Azzy." You tease as he lands gracefully on the ground. He was still holding you as he took a couple steps forward to help ease the impact. Azriel rolled his eyes, but you saw the ghost of a smile. You watched the others land as well, Rhys and Feyre doing so with grace. Cassian and Nesta... a loud thunderous sneeze made their descent less graceful. Cassian tucked Nesta into his wings as they rolled onto the ground.
"We're okay!" Cassian said quickly getting up, then helping Nesta with ease. Your oldest sister looked at him with a heavy sigh. "Take the medicine Madja gave you right now." She commands. Cassian pouts as he pulls it out and takes a swig.
Azriel, much to your dismay, gently sets you down. But stays close, his hands hovering over your arms in case you fell. But you give a small reassuring smile to him before you look over to Rhysand. "What now?"
Rhys is about to answer when you hear footsteps. Looking over, you spot none other than Tamlin. His smile is gentle, and he looks at Rhys and Feyre with a longing you understood far too well. Rhys pulls Feyre closer as he nods at Tamlin. "You look well, so does your Court." Rhys says cordially. You feel a cooling sensation at your feet, Azriel's shadows. Ready to push you away out of danger at a moment's notice. Reaching behind you, you take his hand to give a squeeze. The small action seems to ease Azriel.
Tamlin nods at Rhys. "It was hard, but now it is flourishing." He says evenly, "I took...advice from your Court." Rhysand seems to be shocked, but not angry at that. He smiles as he nods at the other High Lord.
"I'm glad to be able to see it." Rhys says. His hand still holding Feyre's tightly, trying to keep her calm in the face of her ex. But your sister remains strong, unbothered.
Tamlin's attention turns to her, and he gives a small smile. "Feyre. You look well."
"As do you, Tamlin." She says coolly.
Tamlin smiles and then clears his throat. "I met your son. Amern and Mor are here - waiting for you, where the Summer Court will be staying. He looks just like Rhys, I'm sorry." And you realize that the High Lord of Spring is trying to joke. It seems to catch everyone off guard, making you bite your lip to keep from laughing.
Rhys chuckles first, "Glad to see you've got your humor back, Tamlin." He says with a smile. Relief washes over Tamlin's face as Rhysand speaks. Then he lets his stunningly emerald eyes land on you. Rhysand had told you, before coming here, not to bow to anyone. You shouldn't be lesser than anyone. Bowing wasn't needed when the High Lord and Lady were your brother-in-law and sister. So you kept your head held high. And swore you could feel Azriel's pride swelling behind you. The hand that still held his received a gentle squeeze.
"And this must be Y/n Archeron." Tamlin greets, putting a hand to his chest and bowing his head. "It is a pleasure to meet you." He steps forward, and you feel the shadows coil tighter around your ankles, offering his hand. You gingerly place your hand in his as he lifts it and presses a kiss to it. Watching you the whole time. And you can't help but let your cheeks flush.
Until Feyre claws at your mind, showing you images of his temper. You shoot her a glare. "I suppose you lot must be tired after flying here. I'll allow Varian to come get you and escort you back." His eyes land on yours again, giving you a coy smile. "I shall like a dance later at the ball, Y/n Archeron."
Your cheeks heat again at the formality of it all. But you give your head a quick nod. "I shall save room on my dance card for you." You almost swore you could feel Azriel stiffen behind you. The shadows around your ankles growing colder.
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Varian arrived shortly after Tamlin left, and brought you back to the nice little manor you'd all be staying in. Little, might have been the wrong word. The floors were oak through each room. The walls were a rich cream color, but didn't lack life. They have paintings of flowers, animals, a waterfall that looked like starlight... The whole bottom floor consisted of an open floor plan, the kitchen tucked away in the back of the house, beautiful marble countertops and dark oak cabinets to match the floors. The couch was a deep green, with an ornate rug underneath it. A few armchairs supplied as well. A long dinner table with enough seating for your party.
The bedrooms were no less ornate as the rest of the house. The master bedroom was located upstairs, all the way back at then end of the hall. Feyre and Rhys had called dips. Then the room next to theirs was claimed by Cassian and Nesta. Amren and Varian got the one across from them. Mor and you would be sharing a room, the one next to Nesta and Cassian. Azriel was across the hall. And as soon as that had been settled, you ran up to your room to get ready. Throwing your bags up on the bed and hastily throwing them open, so your dress for the evening could unwrinkle.
The first evening was about alliance's more than romance. At least, that is how you looked at it. You'd show off what court you were from, maybe have a few dances, and then call it a night. But it didn't matter to you, you were going to a freaking ball! The childlike joy in you had yet to dim in your heart. The dress you chose had a high neckline, akin to a halter top. It covered your cleavage while still hugging them to show them off in a modest way, as Nesta put it. The back remained open. And golden accents lined the edges. From your waist came long layers of tulle decorated with stars, and when you spun it flared slightly. You'd look breathtaking on the dance floor tonight, you just knew it. Your heels were golden to match the accents in the dress as well, Mor had also lent you some jewelry for the evening.
Everything was coming together just perfectly. You had sat and down and started to brush out your hair when a knock sounded. "Come in!"
Nesta and Feyre entered. Both of them smiling at you as they accessed what you had laid out. Feyre took the brush from you, gently pulling it through your hair. "You should be careful with Tamlin." The first words out of her mouth made you roll your eyes.
"Feyre, I'm not going to fall madly in love with Tamlin because he was kind. I will be cordial and polite by allowing him a dance and then release him to the public." You assure her, locking eyes with her in the mirror. "I will never forgive that bastard for what he did to you. But I can, make it hard for him to refuse any alliance Rhysand speaks of tonight."
Nesta's mouth curls up into a smile as she brings out a box. "You cunning little thing." She says proudly, setting down the makeup she had packed as she starts to help. "I didn't think you had it in you."
"Was that your plan all along?" Feyre asks, grimacing when she catches a snarl in your hair. Not that you minded. Where your sisters kept their hair braided and in updo's most of the time. You usually opted for a more natural style. And that, meant your hair got more windswept than normal when flying. But you nod at Feyre.
"Of course. Don't get me wrong, if Tarquin offers me a dance, it might be for a little more than just an alliance. But Nesta once told me the ways of balls and polite society. So I will follow it. I'm still looking for love, but again. I'd settle for a boyfriend by the end." You shrug playfully, missing the look your sisters give each other.
"You were little when I told you that." Nesta says wistfully. "It made me miss it. But, I'm glad that those lessons stuck with you at least." She doesn't give you a chance to respond as she starts to lather your face with creams, and other makeup.
By the end. You looked stunning. Your hair had been curled, Nesta braided a crown at the back of your head to keep your hair out of your face but left a few pieces framing it. The dress fit like a glove, and the added height from the heels made your already lean body look even better. Your makeup was stunning. Nesta had dusted a mixture of bronze and gold over your eyelids, and Feyre took a golden face paint-dotting it along your cheeks to help accentuate the freckles you already had. Your lips were a beautiful glossy rose pink.
Your sisters had left you to dress long ago. But you kept staring at yourself in the mirror. Unable to look away, you felt like a princess. There was no way that you wouldn't find a partner tonight.
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Meanwhile. "Azriel. Stop spying on her." Cassian chides as he buttons up his shirt. "She's going to be fine. Nesta and Feyre are in there."
Azriel glares at him, he had still barely gotten dressed. Shirtless and in nothing but black slacks. His shadows swirling around him, whispering into his ear, 'She looks like a dream.' 'Our mate is beautiful.' 'She'll be able too reach up to our shoulder for sure tonight.' And it was hard to foucus when all they could focus on was you. "Says the one who gets to be with his mate tonight." He grumbles as he grabs his shirt and slips it on.
Rhys sighs heavily as he looks at Azriel with a gentle, yet exhausted expression. "Azriel. She's far too excited about this for you to-"
"I won't ruin it." He sighs, buttoning his shirt, but leaving the first one undone. He never liked having that one done. It had felt like he was choking. So that one stayed unbuttoned. He helped Rhys slip on his rather ornate jacket. Black and Gold- to make you. They all had planned it so they'd be able to spot each other easily in the crowds. "She's excited, and I won't take that away from her." Azriel didn't voice his full thought. About how he wished he could have swept you off your feet, heard your vibrant laugh sound through out the ball. Dip you and watch your eyes widen, kiss you under the moonlight... all of it.
"If it is any consolation." Rhys's voice snaps Azriel out of his trance. "Feyre just informed me that she has no plans on wooing Tamlin. She knows we want an alliance with him." He chuckles as he buttons his coat. Turning and grabbing Azriel's coat to help him next.
That does make him smile, "I knew it. She held my hand behind her back as he spoke. She didn't like him." He confesses.
"Aww! How romantic! She held your hand!" Cassian teases, earning a smack from Azriel. He chuckles, "But that's good, it will help us keep the peace. It's already so delicate."
"She's a smart woman." Rhys pats Az's shoulder to signal he was good. Azriel buttons the suit jacket and nods. "Then again so are all of the Archeron's but-" Rhys shrugs.
"You can say that again." Cassian rolls his eyes and sits with a slight huff. "I'm gonna be on that dance floor all night batting men away with a stick while Nesta dances. And she knows it too!" Rhys and Azriel share a look, before the both mockingly 'aww' at him as he did to Azriel moments earlier.
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Everyone had made thier way downstairs to the main entrance. The stairs had a view that went straight up to the landing, making for one grand entrance. And, that was all that was left for you to do. Round the corner and face your family. For whatever reason it made you nervous. Mor had assured you that you looked stunning. Nesta had made you do affirmations in the mirror. Feyre assured you that they were all excited to attend. But anxiety still gnawed at you.
"Y/n! You're gonna make us late!" Rhys's voice boomed through the house. With a deep breath, you rounded the corner. Your family looking up at you. Your sisters, all of them- Nesta, Feyre, Mor and Amren looked at you with smiles of varying sizes. Your brother in laws smiled as well, but Cassian let out a low whistle.
"Forget beating boys away from Nesta. We're gonna have to beat them away from you." He compliments, earing a smack on the chest from Nesta. But it was worth it in his opinion when he watched the tension release from your shoulders.
Your eyes found Azriel's. And it was like time slowed, watching as he walked up the steps toward you. He looked beyond handsome in his suit. You couldn't recall the last time you saw him dressed so formally, you could have sworn that your heart skipped a beat. You prayed to the Mother to give you strength- if this was how you were reacting to Azriel in a suit? And for a moment, as you gazed at Azriel walking toward you; you hoped that he could kiss you. The thought shocked you, it was probably just the excitement from all of it. But instead, he offered his hand. "You look stunning." He says softly, as if it was only the two of you in the room. "Allow me to escort you to the ball." You didn't hesitate to nod, placing your hand in his. Letting him help you down the steps in your heels. Now you just had to be cunning enough to get a dance with him...
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The ball was, unbelievably beautiful. The marble floors blended seamlessly into the marble walls with accents of gold. Garland of ivy, flowers and other various flora. Chandeliers with faelighting looked as if the celling was crying the most sparkling diamonds. People were dressed so ornately in various colors, like a intermingled rainbow. You squeezed Azriel's arm in awe. He looked down at you, his face remained neutral especially in front of so many people. But you knew that he was silently asking if you were alright. You give him a slight nod. "It's beautiful." You whispers to him, he flexes his arm and you can see his jaw tighten a little as if he was holding back something to say.
And soon, the music had started. The Courts were introduced, Nyx was fawned over by all the other high ladies. You were standing near the refreshment table as you watched Nesta on the dance floor. Moving with Cassian in a fluid, graceful dance. She commanded the dance floor, everyone's eyes were on her. You smiled, knowing the smile that your sister was wearing was a genuine one. But you didn't have much time to focus on her as Tamlin's large build came into your view. Smiling up at him, he reached his hand out. You felt the shadows curl around your ankles again. "Tamlin." You nod at him.
"Y/n, would you care to join your sister on the dance floor?" He smiled at you with ease. You set your glass down and took his hand.
"I'd love too." And with that, he led you out to the dance floor. His hand on your waist, other one holding your hand up high. And you began to move gracefully around the dance floor. You took note of how the shadows hid in the tulle of your dress. You'd be yelling at Azriel for that later. Tamlin was gentle, but he was definitely leading the dance. Pushing and pulling you around, but he remained polite.
"Tell me, y/n. You don't have a mate?" He raises an eyebrow at you. You give him a shrug. He looks amused by your answer waiting for you to elaborate.
"I don't know, truthfully." You said as he spun you, pulling you back in. "I haven't felt the bond with anyone. But that isn't to say that it can't be there."
Tamlin considered your words before he nodded at you. "Do you know what it feels like? Has anyone told you what it is like?" You shook your head. The shadows angrily fluttered around your dress. You made Tamlin spin you again so that you could cover up for them.
"It's been...vague. My sisters don't know how to explain it. They just say I'll know when it happens. That it snaps and they are suddenly your whole word. They say it's as if, the bond is like a string. And at first it's invisible. Until one day it begins to glow golden and the rest is history." You explain what they had told you, the music comes to an end and you take a subtle back from Tamlin.
"Join me, for dinner tomorrow." He says quickly. Your eyes widen and you look at him as your mouth tries to form the word no. But you simply just nod. And Tamlin leaves your side, your eyes scan the crowd in a panic. Finding Azriel with Cassian and Rhys in the corner you rushed over, the three of them looking at you with worry. Azriel stepped forward first, taking your hand gently as he pulled you into his side.
"Y/n, did something happen?" Rhys asks, his brow furrowed as he watches you.
You swallow thickly. "Tamlin asked me to dinner." The others look at each other as if there was a silent conversation happening.
"Okay...and what did you say?" Cassian asks slowly. Azriel wrapped his wing around you, keeping you pressed closely to his chest. You gripped the lapel of his suit jacket. Biting your lip so hard you were worried you'd draw blood.
"...I-I wanted to say no. But, but it was like my body froze up and I just...I nodded!" You rushed out, looking up at Azriel. He tensed, his arm around your waist pressed you closer. But as he looked down at you, he could see the apology brewing in your eyes. So he looked back to Rhys.
Rhys hummed and then nodded. "Alright, we can work around this. You'll have a chaperone tomorrow." He says smoothly, giving you a gentle smile. Helping ease you, he looks at Cassian. "Get Nesta. She'll make sure that nothing happens. If he asks, we tell him its a human custom that you insist on abiding by."
Cassian nods, looking back at you and patting your head. "We've got your back, kid. Don't worry." You relax further into Azriel, resting your head on his shoulder as you finally take a deep breath.
"I wanna be there," Azriel speaks up, looking at Rhys. "In the shadows. Incase he tries faebane or anything else again." His voice is tight, pleading almost as he looks at his brother. You gives him a little squeeze. Looking back at Rhys.
"I would feel better about...if Az was there." You speak up. Rhys looks at you and sighs.
"Fine. In the shadows. You don't act unless I give orders. Understood?" Rhysand commands, Azriel nods.
You breathe a sigh of relief. "I'm sorry..."
"Don't." Azriel says softly, running a hand down your arm. "We shouldn't have left you out there alone. Just seems Tamlin has a type." Rhys snorts at Azriel's comment.
"Why don't you two go dance?" Rhys motions to the dance floor. "The nights young."
Azriel looks down at you, only to be met with your eyes already on his. You nod quickly, as if you knew the question that was on the tip of his tongue. He smiled, letting his wings curl back in and stepping away from you. Bowing in front of you as he offers his hand, reveling in the joyous giggle that sounds from your mouth. Your delicate hand takes hold of his as he leads you to the dance floor.
The same way that Nesta commanded the floor, this time you two did. You felt the eyes of the crowd on you, but none of it mattered. Azriel's hand laid on your waist, your's laid on his shoulder. Hands clasped in a classic waltz. The music guided you two along, no one led the dance. There was a push and pull of equal measure from each of you, moving about the floor as if this was your ballroom. And as the music hit the last swell before it ended, Azriel spun you only to pull you back into a dip. Watching as the lights danced in your eyes, glittered along the fabric of your dress. You looked like a goddess. And Azriel thanked the Mother for giving him such a beautiful mate.
It was safe to say, that for the rest of the night. You were tucked into his side. Safe, and sound.
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a/n: Hehe, this was so much fun to write!! I hope yall liked it!
taglist: @sidthedollface2 @cat-or-kitten @impossibelle @brunette-barbie1220 @scatteredstardustt @sammanna @cherry-cin @tele86 @judig92 @lana08 @stained-glass-eyes0708 @oucereeng @persephonesalvatore @fightmedraco @juniperberriesaries @whatdoyxumean @harrystyke21 @tenshis-cake @5onedirection5 @bubybubsters @its-sam-allgood @natashachelsea @brieflyclassymortal @thecraziestcrayon @cherryinsalemverse @sourapplex @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @waggel36 @oucereeng @bunnyredgirl @kookie4life @mybestfriendmademe @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @mp-littlebit @caticorn61 @prettylittlewrites @lilah-asteria @thewulf
#azriel acotar#azriel shadowsinger#azriel spymaster#azriel x reader#acotar#acotar fanfiction#azriel x you#acotar x reader#acotar x you#acotar x y/n
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Ryoko Kui Does Not Believe in Epiphanies (or: why Marcille and Mithrun's endings are great actually)
I have seen a couple of people who are upset about the way that Mithrun and Marcille's stories were resolved so I'm writing this to clear some things up. Ryoko Kui does not believe in epiphanies. An epiphany is a sudden and usually brief realization, an "aha" moment. Epiphanies are emotionally powerful moments. Both Marcille and Mithrun have powerful moments of realization, epiphanies.
Whether or not you like these resolutions, there's something you need to understand, Ryoko Kui does not put that much stock into these moments. Immediately after Marcille has her realization, Tansu responds like this:
While this is mostly his own opinion, what he is pointing out is that epiphanies are brief, they are singular moments that do not define a life. Life is long, and epiphanies do not sustain you. Marcille might feel like this now, but what about tomorrow? what about nex year? ten years, a hundred years, five hundred years from now? How often have you felt a sudden understanding? a burst of inspiration, or perhaps a realization that everything is pointless? It generally passes quickly, and you make dinner, and go to bed.
Think about the best meal you have ever had, it was probably a special occasion, maybe it felt like something magical, in the moment you might have felt like your life was changed. Then, in the morning you were hungry, so you ate breakfast. You cooked, you did the dishes, you went on with your life. What "meaning" did that meal have if you were hungry again the next day? Mithrun has to rebuild everything, every day he has to come up with new desires to do the very basics. None of it comes naturally, he has to find a reason to eat beyond being hungry, a reason to want to do anything when he doesn't want anything. Ryoko Kui tells us outright, that there is no magical solution:
The same thing applies to Ryoko Kui's representation of racism in dungeon meshi. Around when the orcs appeared in the anime I saw people gripeing about the way racism is treated. They seemed to think that Laios's party having dinner with the orcs was presented as them "solving" racism. Once again people misunderstand, they did not solve racism in a single moment. A few people, understood each other a little better, came to an arrangement and then parted. This was merely a moment in their lives. The characters continue to do micro-agressions, hold stereotypes, and have implicit biases. In dungeon meshi, characters don't suddenly stop being racist in the course of an evening. Life is a process, learning about others is a process, it's about the accumulation of experiences through the meat and potatoes of life, the daily activities that we actually fill our lives with, not the sudden realizations. Once you make learning about and living with other people into part of your routine, once it is embodied, then it is part of your life.
This is the real conclusion: life is not lived in a state of epiphany. Life is about chores, cooking, eating, shitting, working, and sleeping, it's everyday. Life is about doing simple things and doing them well. An epiphany is a useful tool for telling the reader that everything is going to be alright, we love to read epiphanies and be swept up in them. They can also be a breaking of a pattern, an escape from a spiral.
This is the other take away, it's about the people you do those things with, the way they rub off on you, the way they help you be human. For Mithrun and Marcille their paths would be impossible without other people pushing them back on the path as they stray. Mithrun literally would starve to death except for the thought that kabru and others don't want him to. Eating is a communal activity, so is living, you can have an epiphany on your own; you can't live on your own.
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Story Of Us || leah williamson x reader
prompt: A peek into one of Stella’s sleepless nights.
warnings: none!
In this universe.
“Welcome home, Stella.” Leah cooed to the newborn soothingly rocking in her arms as she walked through the front door. Stella was dressed in a onesie that had pink flamingos sprayed across the fabric, paired with a tiny matching pink cap that covered her small traces of blonde hair that you assumed would grow in to match Leah’s, her sleeping form content in the comforting arms of her mother.
After nearly two days in the hospital once Stella made her long-awaited entrance into the world, she was finally home. There was a brief scare concerning her lungs, but luckily Stella was already forming into a little warrior as the two of you were cleared to leave the next day, Stella passing her newborn tests with flying colors.
Since then, Stella had been practically glued to defender’s arms or her chest, the blonde feeling at peace when she could feel Stella’s tiny rhythmic breathing and heartbeat flush against her own body.
“Welcome home, baby girl.” You softly whispered to the chubby little baby, using the backside of your pointer finger to brush her puffy cheeks gently as her tired eyes fluttered open. Your daughter was a clear copy image of Leah, her bright blue eyes and small button nose resembled the defender perfectly.
It was such an odd feeling returning home, you left with a baby in your stomach and you returned with a human, a real-life, breathing human, it was all a bit surreal.
“Are you okay love?” She asked in a soothing, low tone, voice soft with affection peering towards you.
“Mmm, just a little sore.” You explained to her, wincing slightly at the pain that still lingered from birth a few short days ago. Luckily, you had your amazing wife by your side who catered to your and Stella’s needs attentively. Having a baby was stressful, overwhelming, and tiring daily, but Leah made the transition much easier with her supportive efforts.
“Are you okay to show her the nursery or should we wait?” She questioned with a clear concern about your well-being first. “I just want to show her together.” She expressed shyly.
Leah had become obsessed with nearly doing everything for Stella together, wanting both of you to experience every accolade of ‘Stella’s firsts’ as a pair, not wanting either to miss out on a single moment. First bottle, first bath, first everything was done together, it was adorable you couldn’t deny.
Leah was convinced Stella was already growing up too soon, whole-heartedly believing that Stella was nearly a day away from walking out the door at the ripe age of eighteen and never looking back. You’d had to take deep breathes with the blonde to calm her down after the single thought sent her into a frenzy just a few short hours after Stella was born.
“I am okay, let’s show her.” You confidently admitted, placing a tender kiss to the defenders lips before making your way towards Stella’s room.
Deciding on the theme of the nursey had been easy, a minimalistic theme with neutral colors that accented the wooden furniture that two of you picked out. The room also decked out with several stars and constellation images that reminded you about the origins of Stella’s name all those months that felt like forever ago.
What wasn’t easy was the countless hours the two of you spent trying to assemble said furniture and Leah’s persistence that a small plush gunnersaurus had to stay in the room, even though you pleaded with her that it did not match the aesthetic at all. You’d obviously given up the argument because there was simply no arguing with the true homegrown gunner and her initiative to raise a baby girl who also bled Arsenal.
You watched as Leah give Stella a tour of the nursery room while you sat in the rocking chair near the crib, the blonde showing Stella all the tiny outfits in her closet that she’d bought for her and pointing out the small Williamson kit that she made sure Stella knew she would be wearing one day.
There was something especially heartwarming watching your wife hold and interact with your daughter, Leah looking at Stella’s small form as if she hung the stars in the sky herself, the same loving look she sent you. It was all a serene moment and with the hormones still wracked all throughout your body, you felt yourself getting emotional at the sight, and in that moment, you just knew deep down that Leah was made to be a mommy, and she was going to do such a good job with Stella.
“Hey hey, what’s wrong?” Leah looked at you with worry in her eyes when she noticed the tears trickling from your eyelashes, making one long stride to meet you at the rocking chair.
“Happy tears.” You explained to her with a fond look, “She’s just perfect and so are you. If there was ever anybody meant for me and Stella, it’s you.”
Leah transferred Stella into the nook of your left arm and shuffled behind the rocking chair, placing her head in the crook of your neck so she could look down at Stella, “I wouldn’t want to do this with anyone else in the world.” Your wife beamed, “Can you believe we created her? She is the second closest thing to love at first sight that I’ve ever experienced.”
“Such the charmer you are Williamson.” You laughed at Leah’s cheesiness and wiped the few tears that had cascaded down your cheek with your free hand. Stella’s open palm searching for a finger that Leah happily slotted her pointer finger into, a common relax for babies that Leah’s heart swooned at every chance she got, loving the feeling of Stella’s petite hand wrapping around her.
“I am serious, she’s so beautiful and perfect, just like you. I love her, and I love you.” The new angle of Leah’s body allowed her give small pecks to your neck.
You looked down at Stella’s blue eyes staring at you and then behind you to meet the other blue eyes that had captured your heart, your mouth turning up into a soft smile and lips meeting Leah’s.
The soft whimpers of the infant made you and Leah quickly pull apart.
“Someone must be hungry.” You giggled, smiling down at the baby who began puckering her small rosy lips.
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“Right on time, I’m coming sweetie.” You whispered to yourself as you rubbed your tired eyes and looked at the alarm clock that displayed just a few minutes after 3 A.M. The sound of Stella’s cries rang through the baby monitor that sat on your bedside table, piercing your ears.
You’d become a light sleeper ever since Stella came home, waking up nearly every time you heard a small grunt or even a whine through the white monitor, ready to quickly make a move towards the nursey if Stella needed anything at all.
As you stretched out your limbs, you peeked over to Leah who began to stir awake.
“I’ll get her, you go back to sleep.” She murmured to you, giving you a soft kiss to your temple before getting herself slowly out of bed. You sent her a sleepy smile and rolled back over into your pillow, plucking the baby monitor off the table and placing it near your head to watch and listen, smiling when you hear her angelic voice on the other end of the monitor.
“What’s wrong my little baby girl?” Leah cooed to the swaddled newborn when she enters the nursey room. She carefully picks Stella up and holds her in her arms close to her chest, occasionally pressing gentle kisses to the top of her head as she rocks your daughter.
“Oh Stella darling, I know you are tired. Shhh, your fine baby, I am right here.”
Leah moves her to the changing pad, undoing her pink swaddle that had little farm animals sprayed across the fabric. With escaped arms, her tiny limbs stretch wide as she wiggles around relentlessly with flailing legs.
“Come on baby, let me change you and then we can both get some sleep.” She whispers to the now seemingly wide-awake baby, using her thumb to wipe the big tears that cascaded down her red, puffy cheeks, trying to calm the infant down.
Stella’s high-pitched cries were persistent, unquestionably proving her small lungs were working and well.
“Are you hungry little one? Is that what is it? Well why didn’t you just say that?” Leah told the infant, chuckling to herself slightly and tickling her tiny belly, trying to keep her energy lighthearted as usually the hardest times of having a baby was the limited sleep and exhaustion that wracked most parents and she wanted to avoid ever making Stella feel like she was a chore, even if she was just a few days old.
Leah sat on the rocking chair, letting Stella drink from a bottle of previously pumped milk that morning, humming a lullaby that she’d sing to your belly when Stella was still growing. With Stella’s weeps dwindling into small whimpers, she decided these were some of her favorite moments of being a mother so far, her ability to soothe Stella and calm her own daughter down made her feel like a true mother, like her mother instincts had come although she hadn’t carried Stella herself.
“There you go my little angel.” She sighed in relief as Stella finished off her bottle. Leah moved to gently burp the bundle of limbs on her chest. It was an adjustment to get used to her own sleep getting interrupted nearly every hour to tend to a baby, but as she looked at her daughter, she knew she wouldn’t change it for the world.
Unfortunately, when Leah moved Stella back into her crib, her tiny face scrunched up unhappily and the wails began again, forcing Leah to pluck the newborn back up and find her spot back on the rocking chair, Stella’s eyes now wide and awake.
“Looks like neither of us are getting sleep.” She muttered in a tired voice but with a gentle smile, placing Stella’s back on her knees as she bounced them softly, occasionally blowing rasperries on the infant’s cheeks.
“Let me tell you a story Stella, the story of how I met your mommy.” She began, smiling so hard down at her daughter she thought her cheeks would be sore tomorrow.
Back in your shared bedroom, you were in and out of sleep, waking up every so often and checking in to see Leah and Stella in the nursery, but once you’d heard Stella’s cries die down, you’d fallen back asleep.
You wake up when you rolled over to cuddle further into Leah’s warm body but was instead met with her side cold and empty. You peeked down to the baby monitor and found her, listening in to what Leah was telling your daughter.
“And then your mommy fell head over heels for your mama, both physically and emotionally. She fell straight into me at the post celebration party after we won the Euros and she couldn’t leave me alone the whole night.” You heard her explain to the newborn, chuckling to yourself because that story couldn’t be farther from the truth.
You exit the warmth of your bed, grabbing the small monitor and shuffle down the hall towards where you wife and daughter were.
“Are you telling lies to our newly born daughter already Leah Williamson?” You joked quietly asked as you step into the nursery room doorway, presenting Leah the monitor in your hand that showed that you had heard everything she had said.
Leah eyes widened when she noticed your arrival, you could tell the color of her face draining out slightly even in the dimly lit nursery room. She immediately began scrambling on her words, trying to pretend she wasn’t just completely fibbing to the infant.
“Me lie? No Stella I would never do that!” She joked with sarcastic dramaticness before softly whispering close to the newborn, “Whatever your mommy says don’t believe her! We are now in this together Stella, hold a strong front.” She giggled to Stella, rubbing circles on her tiny belly.
You met her at the rocking chair, crouching down to meet Stella’s head directly, “What I think your mama meant to say was how she couldn’t leave me alone Stella.” You teased with a wink to your wife, electing to sit crisscrossed on the floor near the two people in the world who meant the absolute most to you.
“I don’t remember the story going that way.” She teased back, the corners of her mouth curving into a smile because she does know the story went that way, but she surely wasn’t ready to admit how she had acted like a lovesick puppy when she met you to her daughter, not yet at least.
“There’s nothing to be ashamed of Lee, one day Stella will know.” You smirked, taking a subtle jab at your wife. The Euros celebration had been where you’d met the captain, you had accidentally ran straight into her looking for a friend that was quickly forgotten about after you locked eyes with the blonde, but you played it super cool, trying to conceal your excitement of the Leah Williamson in your presence by electing to play a game of cat and mouse.
A game Leah happily played alongside you, whisking you away to the dance floor nearly all night long and into the early hours of the morning. Leah tried nearly every attempt she could think of to sweep you off your feet, but still you remained headstrong, wanting the defender to truly work for it, and she did. A confession at the end of hours of dancing and an exchangement of numbers and the rest was really history, and now the two of you were married and had a daughter.
During the whisper back and forth with the blonde, Stella’s lashes fluttered slowly, her tiny fists rubbing her tired eyes and a small yawn escaping the lips of the newborn. The two of your voices lulling the infant to sleep as she still laid on Leah’s knees, you assumed she wanted to hear both of her parent’s voices before she fell back asleep.
Leah cautiously whisked Stella back into her crib, “Goodnight angel, sweet dreams.” She cooed, placing a kiss on her forehead as you did the same right after her. The blonde grabbed your waist, pulling you flush against her body as the two of you watched the infant’s chest rise and fall slowly, soft puffs of air leaving her tiny lips.
“I love you.” Your wife murmured.
“I love you too Lee, but if I don’t get some decent shuteye soon, I might lose it.”
“Alright mama bear, back to bed we go.” She laughed, closing the nursery door quietly and leading you back to your bedroom, ushering you into the warmness and comfort of your comforter and pillows. You placed the baby monitor back onto the bedside table and seeped into the softness of the mattress.
“Goodnight baby.” She whispered into your ear, sealing it with a similar kiss to your temple that she gave to Stella, pulling you impossibly closer to her body and tangling her legs into yours.
#woso x reader#woso fanfics#woso imagine#woso one shot#woso blurbs#woso community#leah williamson x reader#leah williamson imagine#leah williamson x you#leah williamson
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𝐀 𝐰𝐢𝐧 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐰𝐢𝐧
*Pics not mine credits to the owner*
• Pairing: Derek Morgan x Female!Reader.
• Requested by anon: Could you please write a derek Morgan x reader smut where the reader and derek and the team obvi are on a case and while interviewing neighbors in the apartments the reader makes a stupid bet like "I bet whoever lives here is a hot single bachelor in his 20s" and then it's the opposite and when they are back in the car derek makes the reader pay up but with her panties and when she goes to get them back at the end of the day it leads to smut.
• Warnings: a really brief mention of a murder case (it’s just a sentence), dirty talk, cuss words, making out, semi-public foreplay (f. receiving), unprotected sex (wrap it up you guyssss!!)
• Word count: 5.5K
• A/N: my first Derek fic 😭 I hope you like it guys, please let me know what do you think about it and also comment, like and reblog, it’d mean the world. Sending lots of love to everyone ❤️
What part of your brain thought it was a good idea to make a bet with Derek Morgan?
You didn’t even know why you did it, it must’ve been the pleasure of losing because there was no way on earth you would’ve won.
You and Morgan were about to go interview a witness for a case you were working on: a serial killer who was killing his victims by setting fires. You were walking next to each other while you thought of some way to make what was going to be a long and boring afternoon, interesting.
You and Derek had a, well… Particular relationship, to say the least.
Months prior you and him had started to have sex. It started out as a purely physical thing as you had always been very attracted to each other, but as time went on you found yourselves spending time together and enjoying each other’s company even outside of a sexual sphere.
Your relationship, both from a working and private point of view, had always been characterized by a playful banter, mischievous jokes, by the constant flirting so it wasn’t strange you both often found yourselves making bets aimed to make lose the other’s mind.
In fact, it was at that moment that you came up with an idea for a bet, however forgetting he took them so seriously it seemed like his life depended on it, especially since most of the time he won, and the penances were of a sexual nature. Of course you didn’t mind losing one bit.
“I bet whoever lives here is a hot single bachelor in his twenties,” you said, pointing to the apartment where you were heading, ready to question the witness. He grinned and glanced at you, hands shoved in his pockets.
“Oh baby girl, you still don’t understand it’s a losing battle?”
“What’s the matter Agent Morgan, you afraid of losing?” You challenged him with the deliberate pleasure of teasing him and in fact he immediately gave in to your provocation.
He chuckled, shaking his head slightly in amusement. You arrived in front of the apartment door that had the number ‘23’ on its sign. You were standing facing each other while he thought about the penance, he would’ve make you do if you – most likely – lost.
Another evil, mocking grin appeared on his lips, and you immediately knew you were in trouble. “You’ll give me your panties when you lose.”
“If I lose.”
“When. But you can still back out.”
“Never.”
He held out a hand towards you but you didn’t miss the way his eyes roamed over your body from head to toe, checking you out without shame. Over time you had learned to understand what he was thinking, what was hidden behind his look and you almost caught fire because you immediately recognized that look, it was the one he gave you when he was imagining you naked in every possible and imaginable position.
And in fact, you weren’t wrong.
Just the thought of having your panties in his pocket, walking around and smelling you, was enough to make his dick stir in his pants.
You knew the odds of you winning the bet were slim, but your competitive nature made you shake Morgan’s hand, and he gave you another one of his panty-ripping smiles.
“Wipe that smirk off your face, don’t take the victory for granted.”
He raised his hands in surrender, chuckling. “I would never dare but be realistic darling. Do you know how low the odds are?”.
“What if I win?”.
“You won’t.”
“What if I win?” You repeated, crossing your arms over your chest.
He shrugged, very sure he’d win. “You’ll choose the penance.”
You thought about it for a moment and a mischievous smile appeared on your lips this time. “I’ll do a strip tease and a lap dance.”
He looked at you with a raised eyebrow. “How is that a penance? Baby I’d drop on my knees right now to make this happen...”
“…But you’ll be handcuffed, you won’t be able to touch me and I won’t make you come.”
He opened his mouth wide, feeling his dick twitch just at the thought. He had to force himself to think of something else since he didn’t want to question a witness with a raging hard on but it was awfully difficult when all he could do was imagine you strip teasing and grinding on his lap. “Fuck I don’t know if I should win or lose.”
“If you want to end up with blue balls then you have to hope to lose.”
You knocked on the apartment door, still maintaining eye contact with Derek and trying to hold back your laughter since you knew exactly what he was thinking. You took your eyes away from him only to let them travel down his body and to the crotch of his pants which was clearly prominent at that moment. You bit your lip as you looked back at his face and he glared at you.
“Don’t look at me like that,” he whispered, feeling the situation getting even worse. Damn it, he felt like a damn horny teenager.
Before you could respond to his comment the door opened, revealing a person who couldn’t be more different from the object of your bet. He in fact was a she, a lady who couldn’t have been less than sixty years old.
Your smile dropped as the one on Derek’s face grew even more and, as you had already said, you wondered what part of your brain had thought it was a good idea to make that bet.
“Good morning. Can I help you?” she looked skeptically at both of you.
“Oh yes ma’am, you just made my day so much better,” he replied softly but glancing at you. “We’re FBI agents, may we ask you few questions?”
Over the next hour and a half you interviewed other witnesses near the fire scene and on your way to the car, Derek wouldn’t stop trying to get close to you and touch you.
“Derek stop it! We’re in public! God you’re so unprofessional,” you slapped one of his hands away that had been squeezing your ass for the last couple of minutes, trying not to laugh.
“There’s nothing professional about what we do, baby girl,” he replied with mock annoyance, “Plus I can’t help it, I can’t wait to rip your panties off.”
“Nuh uh mister, the deal was that I have to give you my panties not you taking them off me.”
He snorted and rolled his eyes as you approached the car but before you could get in he grabbed your hand and turned you towards him. He placed his hands on your face and as he pushed your back against the car door he crushed his lips on yours.
He didn’t care about passers-by in any way, in people’s eyes you might have looked like a couple who was passionately making out.
After the first few seconds of surprise, you immediately kissed him back, parting your lips and letting him slip his tongue into your mouth. You knew it was totally unprofessional to kiss your colleague in broad daylight while you were doing your job but all it took was for him to get close for you to lose your mind, no longer able to think clearly.
Your hands moved down his chest to encircle his waist, trying to pull him closer to you than his body already was. Your mouths moved in sync while he seemed to want to suck his soul out of you and although you were now used to kissing him, every time it was as if it was the first.
You almost moaned into the kiss, your body already on fire, wanting more. You wanted him so badly, you wanted his hands, his fingers, his mouth and his tongue all over you.
“Derek please…” you sighed when you broke away, his face still dangerously close to yours.
“Get in the car princess,” he ordered and his voice was so low and seductive that if he had asked you to give him a blowjob right there on the sidewalk you would’ve dropped on your knees without the slightest hesitation.
He opened the door for you and you giggled like a teenager before getting in, thanking him as you watched him walk around the car before getting in too.
“I would’ve fucked you in the car here and now if we weren’t in public. You’re so fucking hot baby,” he whispered against your lips after moving closer to you and taking your chin between his fingers. “But I’ll settle taking your panties off for now.”
He placed a hand on your breast and groped it before sliding it across your stomach to your jeans-covered pussy. You moaned as he began to touch you, making you squirm under his expert fingers.
“I bet you’re already wet, aren’t you honey?” He continued to tease you.
“Fuck Derek… They’ll see us…”
“You’re right,” he replied, stopping touching you, causing you to moan and grunt at the same time. “No one should look at what is mine.”
God Derek Morgan and the things he made you feel. You were starting to really hate him.
“You’re having so much fun aren’t you?”
He started the car but not before throwing you one last mocking and sexy as hell grin. “You have no idea how much.”
You squeezed your legs together in anticipation feeling the urge and desire grow more and more. You continued to look at him as he drove, observing every feature of his perfect profile with your hungry eyes.
How could someone be so perfect?
And it didn’t help he had one hand resting on your inner thigh as his thumb was stroking dangerously close to your intimate area. You didn’t know whether to hate him, to beg him to go higher or both but certainly the smug expression on his face made you want to punch him.
Derek drove to a hidden, dead end road, not caring the rest of the team was probably waiting to hear from both you and him.
He kissed you breathless again, threading a hand into your hair. But he didn’t stay there for long as he moved down your chest again, wasting no time in groping your breasts again, until he reached your pussy again.
“God Derek you’re driving me crazy,” you hissed as you struggled to keep control. He kissed you again and unbuttoned your pants and you lifted your hips before your brain could even process the movement, allowing him to slide them down your thighs. You took off your shoes, slipping your pants off.
He slipped his hands into your underwear and a loud moan escaped your lips that Derek felt right in his dick. “As I imagined… So fucking wet.”
“Fuck yes just like that,” you sighed as his fingers drew circles on your clit. You gripped the sides of the seat as if searching for a leverage, pleasure flowing through your veins.
He knew where to touch you, he knew HOW to touch you, what to do to make you lose your mind and control.
“I'm dying to taste this pussy, look at you soaking up my fingers,” he whispered in your ear, pressing his lips to your neck and sucking on your skin but being careful not to leave any marks. The team already didn’t give you any respite suspecting there was something between you, he certainly didn’t want to give them clear proof.
Two of his fingers slipped easily inside your wet pussy, curling inside you and touching that spongy spot that made you moan and thinking you were about to ascend to heaven.
“Yes, yes, oh god yes,” you kissed him, spreading your legs even more to give him more access.
“You like that don’t you? My pretty girl loves being so dirty, letting me finger this pussy in public.”
You dipped your head back in pleasure, feeling the orgasm already building inside you.
He pulled his fingers out and you grunted at the loss and took off your panties, bringing them to his nose and deeply inhaling the scent that drove him so crazy: you and sex. “Now I really don’t know how I’m going to go through the whole day without being hard knowing I have your panties here,” he spoke up as he stuffed them into his pocket. “We should go back.”
What?
“Derek you can’t leave me like this!”.
“Oh I can’t and I will, we shouldn’t let the others think we might be doing something shouldn’t we?”
“You fucking piece of shit.”
He burst out laughing and you nearly punched him in his handsome face.
You were furious. Irritated.
You were furious, irritated but above all horny.
After that little stunt he had done in the car Derek had really left you like that, without an orgasm and with a mad desire to fuck.
The rest of the day was torture, especially having to work with other people while pretending you didn’t feel like you were on the edge the whole time. You didn’t spare Morgan some dirty looks after which he had to force himself not to laugh but he didn’t spare you those languid looks full of lust either.
It wasn’t easy for you but it wasn’t easy for him either since, unlike you, couldn’t hide his excitement so easily. Knowing he had your panties in his pocket and the memory of your wet pussy were giving him no respite.
In reality, you both loved that little game, teasing and torturing each other until the other lost his mind, even if… To be honest, wearing jeans without underwear was complete torture.
At the end of the day, when you were finally all in your own room, you took the opportunity to take a shower and put on a dress and the sexy lingerie you had put in your bag before leaving for the new case.
You giggled just thinking about Derek’s reaction.
You went to his room, knocking twice before he opened the door making your jaw drop and almost fall to the floor when you realized he was naked and only had a towel around his waist.
His body was still wet, sign he had just gotten out of the shower, the drops running down his sculpted chest that you wanted to lick off one by one.
“Oh man…” He sighed. “You’re breathtaking baby,” he began, shamelessly scanning your body from head to toe, a smirk on his lips. “I was wondering when you were coming.”
“You always opening the door like this, Agent Morgan?” You asked ironically before entering his room without even waiting for him to invite you.
“Woah woah woah, where do you think you’re going baby girl? Where is my kiss?” He scolded you, almost truly offended after closing the door behind him.
You giggled, but unable to take your eyes off his body and stop them from wandering hungrily over his figure.
“No, dry yourself first and then I’ll kiss you,” you replied before going to sit on the edge of the bed, placing your hands behind you on the mattress and tilting your head slightly as you looked at him.
He didn’t answer but came closer to you and placed two fingers on your chin, forcing you to lift your head and pressing your lips to his in a sweet kiss that took the air out of your lungs.
“Jealous Agent Y/Ln?” He whispered an inch from your lips, referring to your initial question after making you get up from the bed.
“Not even a little bit, it was just an innocent question agent Morgan.”
Absolutely. You were 100% jealous.
But you knew from the way the corner of his mouth lifted in a twisted, mischievous smile he didn’t believe it one bit. “You know, being a profiler I thought you were better at hiding emotions. Lies don’t look good on you pretty girl.”
“That would be true if I had told a lie but that’s not the case, I’m not jealous at all,” you said with a confident tone as your gaze alternated between his eyes and his lips. He was so close and so tempting you felt like you were already losing patience.
“To answer the question, no, I don’t answer to anyone. Just you.”
“You? Derek Morgan?”.
He chuckled. “Strange right? But it seems like you’ve done some weird witchcraft on me because I can’t stop thinking about you.”
“You already got in my pants, no need to be cheesy,” you retorted, biting your lip to keep from smiling.
He sighed, slightly shaking his head. “Always so cynical. What should I do with you?”
“Give me back my panties?”.
He raised an eyebrow. “Have you forgotten what the word ‘lose’ means?”.
“If I had known you liked them so much I would’ve bought you a new pair to wear you know.”
“You think you’re so funny don’t you?”. He grabbed your face with one hand, his mouth dangerously close to yours but never touching it.
You nodded with a smirk as you watched as his eyes were fixed on your lips. “Maybe you might like what I have now better.”
You took a step back and the look of pure confusion on his face was replaced by astonishment when he saw your hands lower the thick straps of your dress down your arms, then lowering the side zip and letting the dress fall around your feet.
The look of shock on his face was something you’d never forget.
Derek widened his mouth and eyes, letting his hungry gaze travel along your body wrapped in lace lingerie, studying every curve and inch of your skin. A warm feeling spread in your lower abdomen and it was amazing how just the way he looked at you was enough to turn you on.
“Holy shit…” he breathed out, “You… Are… You… Holy fuck…” he continued stuttering, unable to form a single meaningful sentence.
“Wow did I really manage to surprise Agent Morgan?” You giggled, your cheeks flushed and stomach filled with fluttering butterflies, knowing you had such an effect on him. Derek Morgan – the man who with a single smile and a look could’ve make rows and rows of women fall at his feet – was drooling over you, looking at you like you were the eighth wonder of the world.
“I’ll answer you when some blood returns to my brain.”
Your gaze trailed down his body and your insides clenched at the sight of his prominent erection beneath the towel around his waist. Your mouth watered just thinking about what was underneath that single fabric, imagining his dick in your mouth, in every hole in your body as he filled you completely.
“You look spectacular Y/n, my god” he murmured, his chocolate brown eyes still on your body and never on your face. You could see him struggling in not knowing what to pay more attention to, your breasts which were perfectly highlighted by the lace that gave that see-through effect while it showed the shadow of your nipples, if the hold-ups that surrounded your thighs that Derek wanted nothing more than to mark and bite or your pussy also covered in matching lace in which he wanted to dive and feed on it until he drown himself to death.
Derek moved closer to you, closing the small distance between the two of you. “Turn around. Show me this beautiful ass that torments me in my sleep.”
The tone of his voice alone made you almost beg him to do anything he wanted. You didn’t have to be told twice and you turned around, your skin on fire as you felt his penetrating gaze on you as he observed and studied every millimeter of your body.
You heard Derek exhale a deep breath behind you. “A fucking goddess. You’re absolutely mesmerizing.”
A rush of shivers gave you goosebumps as he placed his rough hands on your arms, stroking them slowly before moving up and moving your hair from your shoulders and letting it fall along your shoulder blades, leaving your neck exposed. His lips began to plant kisses on your skin and the mere contact made you sigh and tilt your head to the side, giving him more access.
“Do you have any idea how crazy you drive me?” he whispered in your ear and you clenched your hands into fists, pressing your nails into your palms in an attempt to release the frustration you felt. Every second that passed while he didn’t touch you as you wanted there was a shred of your sanity that was shattered.
You shook your head, realizing you hadn’t answered yet.
His hands went down your arms again, then moving up your hips until they reached your ass. You let out a gasp when his fingers tightened around the flesh of your ass, squeezing it, groping it with the sole purpose of torturing you and leaving you eager for more.
“God the things I want do to you baby, you can’t even imagine.”
“Do it Derek, do whatever you want to me… I need you.”
“I love feeling you so desperate for me.”
An empty feeling came over you as his fingers let go of your ass, moving to your hips. However, you moaned when he pushed his body against yours, pressing his erection against the curves of your ass and grinding against you without shame or restraint.
“Fuck Derek,” you murmured, now on the verge of losing your mind.
One of his hands ended up around your throat, forcing you to bend your head and rest it on his shoulder while the other cupped one of your breasts, palpating it over the top of your bra. You sighed, rubbing your ass against his hard dick as you couldn’t wait for it to stretch your pussy.
“That’s what you do to me, you make me so hard I can’t even think straight anymore.” He pinched your hard nipple from above the fabric. “You have no idea how much I want to rip this off of you but I know you’d kill me,” he chuckled in your ear.
“I don’t give a shit.” You blurted out, not evens embarrassed about how fast you said it.
“What do you want baby? Talk to me.”
God it was so damn hard talking when you were so horny you couldn’t even remember your name, the denied orgasm making things worse.
“You. Fuck me, please. I need you so badly Derek.”
He tightened his hand lightly around your neck, cupping your chin then turning your head towards him and before you knew it he slammed his lips onto yours, sucking the breath from your body as his tongue explored your mouth in a sloppy, deep kiss.
He slowly slid the fingers of his other hand – that until a few seconds before were on your breast – along your chest, your lower abdomen, touching your needy and drenched pussy with his fingertips. You whined during the kiss, spontaneously lifting your hips to try and meet his fingers.
God you were hating him at that moment.
“I can smell your wetness from here, is my baby horny for me?” he whispered on your lips swollen and red from the impetuous kiss.
“I’ll fucking kill you right now Morgan I swear to god.”
He laughed and your stomach clenched in on itself. “Don’t worry baby, I’m here. I’m going to fuck your brains out, so good you won’t even be able to get up when I’m done with you.” This time it was your pussy that clenched when you squeezed your legs together for some friction. Derek let go of your throat and began to play with your panties. Your breath hitched as he slowly began to lower them, trailing them down your legs.
“I think I’ll keep these too,” he whispered even as his voice came loud and clear to your ears. You turned your head to the side so you could look at him and let out a ragged sigh when you saw him kneeling behind you. His eyes shone under the light of the hotel room as they looked at you with so much intensity that they alone would’ve been enough to set you on fire.
He left a kiss on your ass, making you gasp to the point of embarrassment as he bit your skin and groped your now bare ass. “One day I’ll fuck this pretty little ass too and you’ll love every second of it.”
“You can start by fucking my pussy now.”
He chuckled again as he stood up. He placed a hand on your heated back, inviting you to lean on the bed in front of you and you obeyed, resting your hands on the bed and giving him a perfect view of your ass.
“I can see from here how wet you are baby girl,” he moved closer to you, his bare thighs touching yours and then you realized he had removed the towel from his waist.
God have mercy on me.
“I’ll eat this beautiful pussy later but now all I can think about is fucking her so good,” he said as his fingers brushed against you and this little contact, combined with his dirty words, made you squirm with anticipation. “After all, you deserve it after being such a good girl all day.”
You felt him place his tip near your entrance and you both moaned as he slid his dick against your folds, wetting it with your fluids. He provoked you, tortured you with every motion, it was what he was best at, he knew which points to touch to drive you crazy and leave you painfully longing.
“Derek please, I want you so much,” you whined in a pathetic tone full of lust and desire as he continued to penetrate you with just the tip and then pull out. You hated him and wanted him at the same time, so much it hurt.
“What do you want, princess?” His hands gripped your hips and he leaned over you, pressing his lips to your skin before leaving damp, wet kisses all over your back.
“Fuck me.”
“Fuck,” he hissed through gritted teeth before lining his dick up with your entrance and finally filling you.
“Oh God yes, you feel so god Derek.” You panted vigorously, your heart beating so hard it almost stopped as you felt his soft and especially bare skin touching every corner of you.
He remained still for a few moments, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he tried to maintain control of his body. You were so wet and it felt so good being inside you, Derek feared that with just one push he would’ve come on the spot.
“Baby please… Move…”
Baby.
Fuck.
That simple little word had no business making his insides twist like he had. You were used to calling each other nicknames, it wasn’t new, but there was something in that ‘baby’ you said: perhaps it was the vulnerability with which you pronounced it, breathless and as if he was the only one who could save you, the way your voice was so full of desire.
Derek pulled out before thrusting into you again with a strong thrust so deep if it hadn’t been for his hands firmly gripping your hips you would’ve probably fallen forward.
“You have no idea what you do to me, fucking hell you drive me crazy,” he breathed out, head tilted back and eyes closed as his dick pounded into you like he was angry.
You tried to formulate a meaningful sentence but as you opened your lips only gasps and moans came out. He was fucking you so deeply that with each thrust you felt a piece of your brain coming out of your head and your soul out of your body.
Exactly like he promised.
All the hidden frustration made its way and exploded like a time bomb, not much time passing until even the orgasm began to build inside you.
Your face was pressed into the sheets of the bed, your breathing heavy and quickening as your hands clenched the fabric into a fist. “Derek…” you whimpered in pleasure as you pushed your pelvis towards him with each thrust. It didn’t seem to be enough though, you wanted more and more.
One of his hands continued to hold your hips firmly while he slid the other along your back, until he reached your hair which he tightened in a fist forcing you to lift your head. His moans and groans sounded like music to your ears and you couldn’t contain the joy of knowing it was you who made him feel this way, it was you who made him lose control.
“Fuck I could stay inside you forever, you take me so well. This pussy was made for me,” he groaned as the tip of his dick hit your G-spot, making you see stars. You wanted to answer but when you opened your mouth all that came out were moans and sighs. “Just for me… You understand?”
“Just you baby, only you,” you babbled while loudly moaning, not caring one bit if someone could hear you having sex.
His lips kissed your shoulder, his tongue traced every inch of skin he could reach. “That’s right pretty girl…” he groaned in your ear, his sentence interrupted by another moan. “Fuck yeah you’re mine.”
“Holy shit baby… I’m about to come…” You managed to say and the orgasm that hit you full on like a truck gave you no mercy, didn’t let you escape as it sucked away your ability to breath. If it wasn’t for Derek’s hand still in your hair you would’ve collapsed on the mattress.
His thrusts became unhinged, even more out of control than they were before and it didn’t take long for him to reach his climax too. How could he resist? There was no chance, not when your pussy was tightening around his dick in the throes of orgasmic spasms, leaving him no escape.
Derek exploded inside you, emptying himself into you until the last drop of his seed filled your pussy, then leaking from your entrance and sliding down your thighs as he pulled out.
“Shit,” he breathed as you felt the weight of the mattress dip as he collapsed next to you. “You destroy me baby, how do you manage to do this every single time?”
You mumbled something nonsensical in response, eyes closed and too tired to say anything. He chuckled and stroked your hair, brushing it away from your face so he could get a good look at you.
You were so beautiful, ethereal, so mesmerizing it hurt and seeing that happy and pleased look on your face almost sent him to his knees, internally promising himself he’d fight every single person on earth just to always see you so relaxed and happy.
“How many women do you tell this?” you managed to say, opening one eye and keeping the other closed and a flock of butterflies exploded in your stomach when you saw the breathtaking smile he was looking at you with.
“If you think there is someone capable of making me feel what you feel, you’re very wrong. Like I already said, I don’t know what strange witchcraft you did to me but you really hooked me baby.” He propped himself up on one elbow and leaned towards you, pressing small kisses across your face, neck, shoulders and all the way up to your lips. “There is no one else since you came in in my life, I’m so obsessed with you it’s not even funny.”
You opened your second eye too, suddenly not so tired anymore. “Really?”
“Why, isn’t the same for you?” he asked, his stomach clenched with jealousy at the thought of a man laying a finger on you. “Please tell me no or someone help me I will kill every man who even looked at you, I’m an FBI agent and I know how to hide dead bodies in such a way that not even the families will ever find them.”
You burst out laughing, and rolled onto your back before throwing your arms around his neck so you could bring him closer to you and press your lips to his. “Don’t you think that’s a bit extreme?”
“Y/n. Don’t fucking test me.”
“I’m just kidding,” your lips brushed against his before planting another small kiss on them. “There couldn’t be another man even if they forced me, you’ve really messed up my life Agent Morgan and I’m pretty much obsessed with you too.”
“That better be. We’re exclusive since the day I kissed you in that elevator,” he grumbled. “God I love when you call me baby,” he then sighed happily and the way his mood shifted so quickly made. Your fingers caressed his soft, perfect skin and he mumbled with contentment. You noticed how his pupils were so dilated the chocolate surrounding them had almost disappeared. “Mine, only mine.”
“And you’re mine darling, I’m an FBI agent too and I know a thousand ways to make deaths look like accidents.” He pressed his lips to yours again, kissing you so deeply your heart almost stopped in your chest.
Derek Morgan would be the death of you, you were certain of that.
“Just give me five more minutes and I’ll show you how much we belong to each other princess, how much I look, think and breathe for you only.”
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Absolution
Azriel x Reader(N)
Summary: Two lovers separated out of necessity finally reunite, only for a brief tryst.
A/N: This is an experimental piece of work. I'm testing a writing style, so feedback is welcome. It's an extended universe for a plot I was working with details tbd but doesn't involve much plot here. So it should be an easy read. This is my first ever Tumblr publish and it's scary!! So be kind. Hope you enjoy!
Word count: ~4.5k
Warning: NSFW, 18+ SMUT, f!receiving, m!receiving(barely), sappy start+spicy middle+angsty end (i guess), voice kink, p in v. Mentions of OC other than reader[not enough editing/proofreading/formatting]
Azriel stepped into the room desperately holding on to the moment, afraid Crone Mother would change her mind. N sat on the balcony—like every evening, on the floor, her legs crossed, her hands clasped in her lap. The curtains came alive with the touch of a gentle breeze to guard her from him. Her sheer dress melded with her body under the radiance of the fading sun, her skin aglow as if made of stars and gold. Summer flowers adorned her hair, tucked into the braid that unravelled after the day’s practices.
His shadows peeked over his shoulders and swarmed his hands buzzing with excitement. With each silent step, he prayed he didn’t break her trance. He settled before her—bringing his knees to his chest, he rested his elbows on them, and his wings tucked tight to his body.
The hue of the setting sun made everything heavenly about her—soft, ethereal. Wisps of hair teasing her cheeks, the knowing smile on her lips, the slight flutter of her eyelids under his stare. A sigh escaped Azriel’s lips. It was a worthless attempt to hide his presence from her, the one who held the sight.
Azriel wasn’t a fool to waste the mercy bestowed upon him after months of longing to be close to his beloved. He stretched on the floor, his head finding its rightful place in her lap, and wrapped his arms around her waist. Her scent and warmth made their bond burn brighter and he sighed in contentment.
After long minutes, N rested her palm on his head. Her fingers carded through his hair, and her nails scratched his scalp the way he liked. A thumb teased the shell of his ear and his wings responded with a sudden tremor.
Azriel smiled. He buried his face into her thigh. Air shifted around them as her body answered to his touches and breaths. Despite the need clawing in his chest, he chose to wait a few minutes, to savour the comfort of her simple touch.
N broke the silence. ‘How was your day?’ Her voice was as sweet as ever.
‘Long. Excruciatingly long,’ sighed Azriel. ‘I started with your friends from the armoury today. Until your mother sent me to the gardens.’ He remembered the smile on the older woman’s face when she took him away from the others. A secretive, mischievous one. ‘She enjoys testing me a bit much. She made me tend to your roses.’
N laughed, the sound sending a shiver through him. ‘That must have been a vision. Maybe she’s exacting revenge for how you treated her back home.’
Azriel’s heart thudded in his chest. Home. No matter what Crone Mother said, N had one home. It was with him, in Night Court. ‘I think she’s forgotten all that. She’s more interested in stealing you from me.’ His arms tightened around her and his shadows whirled around them emphasising their master’s possessiveness, ‘But I don’t mind. As long as she lets me be with you for a while.’ His lips twitched. ‘Did you know everyone here addresses me as your mate?’
Another laugh broke through her lips, ‘They're not wrong.’
‘No, they are not.’ Azriel finally looked up. Her eyes were already on his face. ‘I’ve been called many names over centuries. Shadowsinger. Spymaster. But this one,’ he leaned up to her face, ‘I like the most. To be known as yours before they even know my name.’ He got to his knees and trailed a knuckle along her jaw. ‘I’d like that for the rest of my life.’ Their bond strummed a tune so loud that rendered him senseless. ‘I want to have a life with you. A home, a family. Anything you want, any way you want. As long as you want that too.’
‘You mean that.’ N stated as if she needed to reassure herself. She stared at him with a mask of impassivity on her face that almost rivalled his own as a spy. Then, she smiled. ‘But I’ll have you know there will be more tests from Crone Mother.’
'I’ll suffer anything for you,’ he murmured against her lips. ‘So that’s a yes?’ N nodded before her eyes sparkled with mirth. ‘What is it?’ His senses warned him, his shadows stood alert on his shoulders.
‘Well, technically, we’re married.’
Silence fell between them. Azriel’s fingers left her skin.
‘What?’
N shrugged. ‘Do you remember the first time we duelled?’ Her voice was steady but her hesitance broke through at the sight of the male who sat frozen in front of her. ‘You made me bleed. You proved you were my equal. And, it all happened after the bond snapped for you.’
Azriel remembered that day. He had wanted to impress her. It was the day he felt the warmth of her breath on him for the first time. For days and nights to come, he relived those moments until his skin prickled with heat.
N’s unsure laughter died soon when he didn’t even blink. His shadows retreated. His end of their bond quietened, alarming her.
Finally, he said, ‘All this time you were my wife?’
Her breath stuck to her throat. ‘According to our custom, yes.’
‘And you kept that a secret.’ His wings flared behind him to their full glory and his eyes narrowed. ‘What did we discuss about your secrets?’
N leaned back, ‘Was I supposed to tell you all this when I had your blade to your throat? I’m not sure you’d have been open to that conversation.’ Her voice reeked of confidence but Azriel saw the facade waning in her darkening eyes.
Memories flitted through his mind—visions of her from the instant he laid his eyes on her to the present. Every misfortune they endured, every second they spent in love, every. . .
He stalked her on his knees, his hands on either side of her. He hissed, ‘You slept with those males after that.’ A sound escaped his throat, a rumble deep from his chest. ‘My wife slept with other males to spite me.’
N stared at his lips and swallowed thickly. She hurried back, her hands slipping on the smooth marble under her. 'Azriel,' she whined wincing at the way her body welcomed her impending doom.
Azriel inhaled sharply. ’You like that? When I call you my wife?’ He chuckled darkly. His lips whispered against hers, ‘Of all the things you kept from me, this is the worst. You’re not getting out of this easy this time.’
N pleaded with her eyes. Her breaths shuddered. ‘They are watching.’
‘Then they’ll know my actions are justified.’
Azriel dove for his kill but before his hands grasped her, she faded away. Her airy laughter echoed in his ears. She stood in the middle of the room—her hands gently clutching her skirt to free her feet, her braid coming undone over her shoulder, teeth sinking into her plump lip—a vision of devilry and seduction.
His eyes flashed up to hers with a glint. His shadows who wanted vengeance of their own circled his shoulders and arms with a frenzy. N was in trouble and she knew it. She turned to run only to be met with his hard chest emerging from a dark mist.
‘Did you really think you could get away?’ He caressed her cheek, ‘There’s no escape from me. You should know that by now.’
N slid her arms around his neck. ‘Back then, we barely knew each other. I didn’t want to scare you.’ She looked into his eyes. ‘I’m sorry.’ She sent every ounce of sincerity in her being through their bond, still he kept his end cloaked.
Azriel pulled his arms away. Dark amusement shone in his eyes. ‘As if a silly apology is going to save you.’
N smoothed her palms over his chest. ‘I know.’ Her lips brushed against his skin, littering his face with soft pecks. ‘I know,’ she kissed the corner of his lips, moving closer and closer to the centre as she breathed the words, ‘I’ll make it up to you. For every secret.’
Even as N pressed her body into his, Azriel stood unmoved with a cruel smirk on his lips and his hands by his side. Her fingers wandered over his sculpted torso before unbuttoning his shirt. The shadows on his shoulders swayed, watching, waiting. The regal female who made others quiver with fear grovelled for his forgiveness, and his wretched heart grew giddy with power and pride.
Azriel itched to grab her waist and bite her lips until she bled for him again. A true victory in this duel. He closed his eyes in a wasted effort to tame his thoughts. At the first touch of her cool fingers on his bare chest, he almost gave in.
His eyes snapped open the moment N pulled her lips away. She dropped to her knees, her fingers dancing on his hips. Pressing a kiss below his navel, she inched her hands between his legs and fondled him with the heel of her palms. The warmth from her hands seeped through the cotton, which he was forced to wear upon their arrival, promising him the pleasure that awaited him.
In all the years with her, Azriel treated her lips as a relic–sacred and holy–a crown jewel in the trove that was her body. Something to be guarded, treasured, worshipped. He never had to take her mouth the way she offered to him to reach for the stars.
N smiled sweetly. The goddess who witnessed every vice and virtue under the sky knelt before him with love in her heart and devotion in her eyes.
Enchanted, Azriel watched her. His lips parted with a shaky breath. Their bond blazed with emotions he couldn’t name. At that moment, he knew there had never been nor ever will be a male more blessed than he was.
His scarred hand cradled her cheek tinged with a soft blush. She leaned in, closing her eyes, trapping his hand between her shoulder and face. She sighed. She kissed his wrist, his palm, his fingers.
Azriel couldn’t decide which was in more pain—his heart or his cock. Both, mere toys in her hands.
N grazed her lips against his clothed hardness and Azriel closed his eyes. His head fell back. A gasp escaped deep from his chest when her tongue soaked him through the fabric. He couldn't remember why he wanted to punish his sweet mate. He was close to breaking already and all she did was tease.
A sharp scrape of her teeth along his length had him bury his hand in her hair softer than the flowers that tumbled down her breast. He hissed in warning as his eyes held hers in a glare.
‘I want you to look at me,’ she smiled. That damned smile that masked her every cruelty.
Too much time had passed since they felt each other’s skin. Months, almost a year of not seeing each other, not holding each other. And there she was ready to worship him with her entire being if only for a night until their time ran out. Every move of hers had his heart wring in pain, the desire through the bond overwhelming and consuming his soul.
His shadows swooped down and pulled her to him. Azriel crashed his lips onto hers before her feet rested on the ground and stole every little breath from her chest. His shadows brought them to her bed, delicate and soft fit for a queen, like her.
He pried the cord that held her dress together below her breasts. His lips ventured south leaving a trail of red on her neck and chest while N rewarded him with her moans. Shadows, ever obedient, parted her dress to make way for their master’s hand to relish the smoothness of her skin. He caressed every inch of her body with his marred hands except where she ached for him the most. She pleaded and moaned, guiding his hand between her legs.
‘You shouldn’t have lied to me,’ he growled, letting his canines scratch her jaw. ‘You know how I feel about secrets, don’t you?’ A sob left her lips as the back of his fingers teased her entrance with the barest of touch. ‘Is this what you call making up? Crying and moaning until your husband fucks you?’
N froze. Her eyes stared into his with unspoken emotion that radiated clearly in their bond instead. ‘Azriel, please.’ His hand came down hard between her legs. She arched her back beautifully for him as a silent gasp escaped her lips.
Azriel memorised every pull of her muscles. ‘You should’ve known better.’ He slipped his fingers in and out, barely past her entrance, coaxing moans out of her. Her wetness had his mouth water. He undid his pants enough to ease himself out and thrusted into her in a single move.
They were perfect for each other—masochists at heart, denying themselves release until the day for their reunion drew closer and closer. N reached a hand out and clawed at his chest. Her eyes widened and soon glazed with pleasure. Her lungs ached for air. Her body begged to escape the feral male whose only intention was to devour her body and soul. Yet, she wrapped her legs around him.
Azriel waited panting, his heart losing its rhythm, shirt clinging to his back. N tugged him closer with her heels on his ass. He growled, baring his teeth. He grabbed the back of her neck and pulled her to his chest. Her eyes fixated where his hips snapped against hers, where they were finally a whole. Each of her whimpers nudged him to quicken his pace.
He felt his release closing in. ‘Is this what you want?’ She looked up, mewling for him, her eyes burning with tears. Too soon. He pulled out of her weeping cunt and dove in with his tongue.
N cried out his name, sweeter than any melody she had ever sung for him. Her body slumped on the bed. She sought for leverage, her hands fisting the pillows. As she felt her fingers grasping at reality, shadows weaved around her wrist and pinned them above her head.
Azriel watched his mate’s body collapse and crash at his ministrations. He dug his fingers into her thighs tearing them open. Her bright eyes pinched shut before she met his crazed ones. With her chest glistening with sweat, her neck reddening, and her teeth sinking into her wet, swollen lips, she came.
Watching her body shiver with every lick of the evening breeze, Azriel rid himself of his clothes. He leaned down to kiss her lips, but she stared dazed. He laughed and nipped at the insides of her bicep, clearing the fog in her mind. Her arms flushed red as blood rushed back. Her fingers twitched and his shadows trickled along them. She came alive with whines when he slipped his fingers inside her.
Her desire came in waves through the bond. A groan rose from his chest, a guttural rumble. Even after his transgressions, she only wanted more, more of him. N clenched around his fingers at the sound. Azriel chuckled darkly into her ear. N curled into herself and clenched again. A renewed glint came to his eyes as he stared into hers.
‘She likes my voice, does she now? I always wondered. . .’ He lowered himself between her legs again, his second haven, the first being her embrace. A series of soft ‘please’ escaped her but the lust in her eyes told a different story, the bond sang a different tune. And he chose to heed its calling.
He wrapped a hand around her thigh and pushed the other aside with his shoulder. He didn’t want to miss this one. It was no new knowledge. He always had his suspicions, years of practice in observing the unobserved. But to finally see it with his own eyes, he was desperate to witness it. He wanted it to be true, he prayed for it to be true.
The room was filled with nothing but N’s silent pleas. Her wetness glistened in the last lights of dusk promising him an elixir crafted just for him. A fresh wave of arousal rolled over her body. Azriel hummed, breathing in the scent.
‘So pretty,’ he exhaled. His eyes took in every flutter that invited him back. ‘You like being praised, don’t you?’ N moaned fighting against the shadows that held her hostage. Azriel pulled her close by her hip and inhaled—loud and deep—his nose almost touching her.
‘Always wet for me, eager for me.’ His voice softened, his taunts dying as if his anger was meant for N and not her cunt, ‘I missed you so much. I can tell you missed me too,’ he pressed his lips to her thigh, his eyes unwavering, ‘by the way you wrapped around me, by the way you swallowed me.’ His cock throbbed at his own words.
He rasped, ‘Look at you, teasing me. Do you want a kiss?’ He flattened a hand on her abdomen, his fingers stroking deliberate patterns. ‘My tongue, my fingers? Hmm?’ Her hip jerked up for more and he pressed a kiss to the arch above her clit.
'Azriel, please. I want more.'
‘So wanton, so needy.’ A wisp of shadow licked her entrance once and N closed her eyes. Her hips moved in tandem as if she could materialise what she needed out of thin air. ‘So beautiful.’ Azriel grazed a thumb along the junction where her leg met her hip. N fell back with a groan.
‘You want me, don’t you? You never lie to me,’ another kiss to her thigh, ‘You can’t lie. Unlike N,’ his eyes finally caught her desperate ones. For a moment, he almost felt tyrannical to let the wicked smile pull at his lips. N threw her head back and circled her hips again.
‘That’s it, pretty. Show me how you’d fuck me. Show me how beautiful you are.’ His tongue trailed a line alongside his thumb, ‘Come for me.’
Her legs went taut around his shoulders. Her toes dug into his back next to where his wing emerged from. When her stomach sank in, Azriel shoved two fingers inside and held it there as she unravelled with a choked moan.
Pure, perverse pride filled his chest as his mate bucked and thrashed at the impact. Azriel was sick—sick at heart, sick in his desires. He never denied it. But it hardly felt a sickness with N trembling with his fingers inside.
Having lived through the horrors he did and committed unspeakable sins over his lifetime, Azriel knew there was no absolution for him. Nor that he cared. He already had his heaven, right there, in front of him, basking in the afterglow of pure pleasure.
He nuzzled his nose into her thigh to steal a little more warmth from her exhausted body. He brushed his cheek against her, closing his eyes, savouring the moment before his primal need destroyed the only person he loved the most. He hummed satisfied, pressing the lightest of kisses to her skin, his pathetic attempt to atone for the wicked he unleashed upon her. His heart should cower in shame and guilt, yet it swelled with love and hunger.
His name, whispered once, tore his attention from his perverted thoughts. He never cared for what he was called. But in her sweet voice, a sacred chant uttered in the confines of their chamber, he liked no word more than his own name. His shadows answered her call, smoothed over her sweat-covered body apologising for their master’s sadism, burning her skin with their delicate coolness. Some mercy, for they were no better than him.
Azriel brushed a thumb along her cheek gathering her tears away, a tender kiss placed in their stead. He smiled like a gentle lover. He parted her lips with his fingers soaked in her essence and slid them past her teeth.
With hooded eyes, N looked up at the male who sought the remnants of her soul clinging to her body and sucked on the tips. Her tongue rivalled the wetness between her legs. She was a true seductress.
Azriel lapped at his fingers and the lips sheathing them alike, tasting her whole at once, embracing the insanity he fought to stave off for so long. Even when he slipped his fingers out of her mouth, even when he pressed his body onto hers, even when he lined himself to her welcoming heat, he didn’t break the kiss like her lips were his only tether to reality.
N stilled beneath him. Another tear slipped from the corner of her beautiful eyes. Azriel was cruel, but he was capable of loving his mate right. He wrapped a hand around her shoulder and smoothed a palm over her hip. He inched in slowly into her pulsing cunt, ‘Give me one more, love. Just one. For me?’
His mate, ever merciful, nodded. The adoration that flowed through the golden string between their hearts reflected in her eyes. ‘Please,’ she said breathlessly, ‘please, Azriel. I want to touch you.’
The one whose dangerous hands slit throats of the most feral of males and females with grace asked to touch him so sweetly. How could he deny anything to her?
His shadows didn’t wait for his instructions. They released her arms and slid over to the skin their master left unattended, staking their claim on her body. Azriel reined them back only to lose control again. She made him jealous of his own shadows, ones meant to serve him, ones who forgot their place around her.
A long sigh pulled his focus back to her. Too exhausted to hold him like she always did, N ran her hands along his sides. ‘I missed you.’
‘I missed you too.’ Azriel lifted her thigh higher and wrapped it around his waist ripping a whine from her throat. He did miss her. He missed everything about her. Her raw devotion to him, her pure heart, her unconditional love.
As he moved deeper and deeper still, he felt it. The echo of a song he knew too well, one of love and longing that kept them connected through the times of separation. Beyond the familiarity of its thrum, he recognised something else.
Like catching a flicker of light after being lost in the dark for long. Like the first time he gained control of the darkness he was born with. Like the first time he tasted his freedom. In her arms, everything made sense. His breaths strained.
Tears flowed freely from her eyes. ‘I missed you,’ There was a tremor in her voice. Azriel soothed her with his own declarations but she shook her head, ‘Don’t make me leave you again. Please, I can’t live like this anymore. I can’t, not without you.’
Azriel always believed he loved her more than she could love him in her lifetime. His petty display of jealousy and temper, a proof of his love. What an arrogant fool. His heart ached for failing to truly see his beloved’s feelings for him, how deep it ran in her veins, how it destroyed her while it breathed life into him.
He pulled her close, enveloping her in his comfort, and his wings draped around them.
‘Promise me, Azriel.’ She closed her eyes, ‘Please.’
‘I’m here now,’ he caressed her cheek. He left kisses on her forehead, eyes, cheeks, and finally on her lips. ‘I’m here. I’m with you, love. I’m here.’ And at those words, N let go one last time leading him to his release.
Azriel left his shaking mate in the bed with a kiss when he came back to his senses to draw a bath. He stood by the door of her bathroom and watched his shadows tickle the skin below her ear. A light chuckle escaped her lips as more chased her hand. It was a sight he was used to and missed dearly.
N smiled at him as he carried her in his arms. Her body shivered at the first touch as Azriel lowered her into the tub. She tugged at his wrist, and he joined in. She leaned her back into his chest and closed her eyes. The water washed her exhaustion away while his hands massaged her tender flesh. Her eyes struggled to stay open and she sank deeper against him. As he dried her tenderly after, she watched him with an easy smile.
Azriel carried her out to the bedroom and paused. Fresh sheets lined her bed. Sweet fragrance of jasmine lingered in the air. Lit candles stood on windows and her desk. Moonlight streamed past the drawn curtains. His shadows failed to notice, too lost in her as he was.
‘I told you they were watching,’ N said, her voice quiet and tired.
He eased her into the bed and pulled a blanket over her legs. He traced the marks of red on her stomach and between her breasts, marring her pristine skin—still a masterpiece—complete, perfect. ‘Do you think they’ll let me near you again after seeing what I’ve done?’ He couldn’t stop the smile that cruelly tugged at his mouth.
N groaned, throwing a hand over her eyes. ‘I’m pretty sure Mother Aarzu is already dissecting how you wrecked me for her next seduction lesson.’
‘Well then,’ Azriel laid beside her and pulled her to his chest, ‘I’m willing to contribute more to these lessons. They sound very necessary.’
She glared from behind her hand. ‘Mock all you want but your brothers are worse. I bet Rhysand was listening to your thoughts the whole time. And they are already planning on ways to taunt you.’
Azriel lifted a brow. He opened his mouth to defend his ability to guard his thoughts when his brother’s laughter echoed in his mind. ‘Your shields are pathetic when she’s around. They went down the moment her lips were on you.’ N flinched in his arms and he knew his brother invaded her mind as well for his next words, ‘Thanks for the show. Quite an. . .inspiration.’
N scoffed, ‘I don’t know why we do it behind closed doors.’ Her words had his mind conjure ideas already. A frown appeared between her brows. She looked at him sharply when she felt a hardness pressing into her hip, ‘We’re not doing that.’
Azriel laughed aloud. Something he hadn’t done in a while after he sent his mate away. ‘Anything my wife wants,’ he teased. He cradled her face against his chest and kissed her eye. ‘Anything you want.’
#azriel#azriel x reader#azriel fanfiction#azriel fanfic#azriel x reader smut#azriel x reader angst#azriel angst#azriel smut#azriel shadowsinger#azriel spymaster#azriel acotar#a court of thorns and roses#acotar#acotar fanfiction#acotar smut#acotar x reader#acotar x reader smut#azriel x y/n
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because i liked a boy
~because i liked a boy by Sabrina Carpenter~
Author's Note: requested!
Summary: Y/N gets a lot of hate online and Nico comforts her
Warnings: brief discription of hurtful language
Word Count: 1,893
Nico Hischier x fm!reader
Nico and Y/N have been together for nearly a year and their relationship has remained offline for most of it. Despite both of them being in the spotlight at different levels. Nico was the captain of the New Jersey Devils while Y/N had a huge TikTok following.
She spent a lot of her videos focusing on makeup and different trends. Today, she decided to film a get ready with me, dedicated to going to Nico’s home opener. For the last two seconds of the video, she showed herself in the mirror posing beside Nico.
It didn’t cross her mind that his fans would find the video as fast as they did. The entire comment section was berating her appearance and talking about how she doesn’t deserve him. Usually, she ignores a lot of the hate that she gets, but something about how even her own fans were switching up on her.
The entire third period was still left as the boys were just now starting the period. She kept her gaze on her phone, scrolling the comments. Many of them were talking about how she is too ugly to be with. While others were saying that she was too full of herself to be with him.
Reanne tapped her hand against Y/N’s forearm. Y/N lifted her gaze towards Reanne and forced a smile to her lips. “Are you okay?” she asked. Y/N nodded as she tilted her head back to the comments, she began to scroll through them again. Even clicking on each reply.
“Showed my followers Nico today,” she said, nonchalantly. She lifted her gaze towards the TV screen to watch the game get going. Reanne pouted slightly, “Did not go as well as I expected. I mean only people who follow hockey would’ve known it was him,” Y/N explained as she turned her phone screen off.
“What are they saying?” Reanne asked as she ran her hand up and down Y/N’s arm reassuringly.
“Just the usual stuff, commenting on my appearance and my personality. Saying that they know I’m not good enough for Nico; or I’m too full of myself to be with him,”
“Oh that’s bullshit,” Reanne reassured, “People on the Internet think they know the boys but they don’t,” she continued.
Y/N nodded politely, listening to what she had to say but not truly letting the words sink in.
The game ended with a win for the team. It was exciting and a hopeful start for the rest of the season. She waited in the suite for a while, as she was avoiding Nico. She knew she would have to put on a front for him, but it was hard as she was starting to spiral.
Each comment, all six hundred of them were starting to repeat in her mind on a loop. It was becoming impossible. The hard part was the fact that her supposed loyal followers were even saying awful things about her.
She was the last one to leave the suite as she wandered the empty halls of the arena, waiting for Nico to tell her he was ready to head towards the car. Every home game she would roam around until he was ready to head. Being captain held a lot of media responsibilities compared to the other players.
Nico Boy: Come to the locker room darling
She smiled at the text as she began walking towards the locker room. For a brief second, for only a moment she forgot. She forgot about all of the awful things the comments were saying. All she knew was that she was heading to the love of her life. The light in her life, the one person who could truly help her in this moment.
After a handful of minutes she walked towards the locker room, seeing Nico standing outside of it. He lifted his gaze from his phone as he smiled widely. He was giddy as he walked towards her, widening his arms. She giggled as she wrapped her arms around the center of his back, He tightly wrapped his arms around her.
He took a hold of the back of her head. She melted into his chest, suddenly getting teary eyed feeling his touch. “New tradition, right here,” he mumbled as he pressed his lips to the top of her head.
She reluctantly pulled away, dropping her gaze. She blinked rapidly as she fought the tears forming in her eyes. He clenched his jaw as he furrowed his eyebrows, “Hey, why are you crying?” he asked as he rested his hands onto her hips.
“No, no not crying, I promise,” she said smiling, her eyes instantly drying up, “Come on, let’s get home,” she said as she looped her arm around his as she began guiding him towards his car.
She was silent for the whole drive home, which was odd. She normally would be singing along to whatever song Nico was playing. He kept the music loud, not wanting to ask her any questions as she was definitely not feeling great. Instead he kept his hand on her thigh, rubbing his thumb in small circles.
He pulled into his parking spot inside the parking garage of his apartment. He quickly put the car in park and turned his body to the side. “Are you okay?” he asked as he tucked his knee towards his chest, “Don’t lie,” he said as he tapped his hand against her leg.
She tilted her head to the side as she clenched her jaw. “Nico, I don’t want to talk about it,” she mumbled as she unbuckled her seatbelt.
“My love, you’re sad,” he let out. A drawn out sigh left her throat as she tilted her head to the side to meet his gaze. She scanned his features, his eyes were squinted slightly as his lips were pouted.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” she said as she climbed out of the car. She shut the door and began walking towards the elevator. He clenched his jaw as he quickly followed her out of the car.
He jogged after her, shocked at how fast she was able to get across the parking garage. “Y/N,” he let out as he reached beside her. She stopped short as she turned and met his gaze, she was crying now. “My love,” he let out sadly as he quickly wrapped his arms around her. She tightened her grip around his chest as she sobbed into his chest. “Upstairs, yeah?” he asked as he ran his hand up and down her back.
She nodded as she pulled away from his grasp, walking ahead of him towards the elevator. He let her keep the lead, walking behind her. He felt his heart ache in his chest. He was aware that he obviously didn’t do anything but still felt like he harmed her.
Once they reached the elevator, it opened instantly as she pressed the button. They stepped inside, side by side. He loosely wrapped his arm around her waist pulling her to his side. She rested her head onto his shoulder as she took in a deep breath.
After a few seconds they walked down the hall towards Nico’s apartment, where they practically live together. He unlocked the door and opened it as he quickly stepped inside, she followed behind.
He spun around, hugging her tightly once more. “It’s stupid,” she muttered. He shook his head as he continued to run his hand up and down her back.
After a few seconds she pulled away, dug into her pocket. She fished her phone out and pulled up the video on TikTok. “The comments,” she mumbled as she handed him the phone. She walked away towards the bedroom as she took a deep breath.
He stood still in the entryway, reading the different comments. His body was fueling with anger only after a few comments. Utterly shocked to see that anyone could say anything bad about his beautiful girlfriend.
Comment: ugh he’s way too good to be dating her, has he actually looked at her?
He read that comment multiple times, shocked to even think that anyone could think that. Especially someone who doesn’t even know who he is. She is the most perfect person in the world, the most gorgeous girl, she was everything to him.
He went to the settings on her account and turned off all of the comments. Even on her other videos. Right now, she doesn't need to see any of the content.
He took a sharp breath as he walked towards the bedroom.She was already in her pajamas and curled up into bed, her makeup still on her face. She rolled onto her side, curling the blanket up to her chin.
He tilted his head to the side as he took his suit jacket off of his frame, tossing it onto the chair in the corner of the room. He began to unbutton his shirt and slide his pants off of his body. He slipped into the closet as he pulled up a pair of sweats onto his frame. He walked towards the bed. He climbed under the blanket and quickly cuddled up against her body.
He looped his hand around her stomach, he ran his hand up her shirt. Reassuringly running his hand along her skin. He pulled her towards him, pressing his lips against her shoulder for a few seconds.
“You know they are just jealous,” he whispered into her ear, “You are so beautiful,” he mumbled. She squinted her eyes shut as she held her breath for a few seconds. “There is nothing that anyone on the Internet could say that could make me not love you or make me think you are not the most gorgeous girl in the world,” he whispered.
“I know,” she let out, her voice rasped as she spoke. “It was just overwhelming,” she mumbled.
“I know, my love,” he whispered before he pressed his lips to her shoulder, “Take a few days off, spend time with me,” he whispered as she rolled her body over, facing him. “I turned the comments off,” he said. Her eyes widened.
“Nico,” she scolded.
“What?” he asked innocently.
“Then they’ll know it bugged me! That’s like the worst thing you could’ve done,” she let out, tilting her head back. Her eyes started tearing up again. He pressed his lips together as he scanned her features. He raised his hand up as he rested his hand on her cheek.
“What they think of you doesn’t matter. What you think of you matters,” he let out, rubbing his thumb across her skin so delicately. “The words they are saying are hurting you, my love, you don’t need to read those things,” he reassured. She clenched her jaw as she shut her eyes, a tear streamed down her cheek. He wiped it away.
She smiled softly towards him. “Make a video about it, be transparent, it could help,” he explained. She nodded as she rested her hand onto his forearm.
“Okay,” she let out as he scanned her features.
“I love you,” he let out.
“I love you too,” she whispered as he leaned down and kissed her softly. He pulled away, resting his forehead against hers.
“It’ll be okay,” he mumbled before he kissed her again.
#nico hischier#nico hischier imagines#nico hischier x reader#nico hischier x y/n#nhl imagines#nhl#nhl x reader#nhl fic#hockey#nj devils#new jersey devils fic#new jersey devils x reader#new jersey devils
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Convincingly Human: Part 1
Summary: Sihtric moves to Coocham and meets an interesting woman with a secret. Takes place between Season 2 and Season 3.
Pairing: Sihtric Kjartansson x Dragon Shifter!reader
Rating: 18+, MDNI
TW: creature death by fire
Word Count: 2208
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters from The Last Kingdom nor do I own any of the images used.
Dividers by @arcielee and @zaldritzosrose
He had moved to Coocham with Uhtred and the rest of the men, finally settling down after all the events following Beamfleot. Even though his lord had denied his request to marry so he may start a family, after everything that happened, he was just a bit relieved. He wouldn’t admit it, but it wasn’t until after the battle when he realized he wasn’t quite ready for that chapter of his life. At least, that is what he thought until he met her many moons after he settled into his own home.
The first time he had seen her, he was completely taken back by her beauty. Stunning would be an understatement of a word to describe her, a sentiment shared by many of the men in Coocham. She only ever visited the market once a week, purchasing supplies before leaving Coocham once more to wherever she went. Sihtric was enamored immediately, not letting the teasing and jests of his friends stop him from attempting to pursue her. He learned she didn’t live in town from the baker’s wife, apparently choosing to remain separated from society but for what reason no one could say. The day he finally gathered up the courage to approach her was one he’ll remember fondly, the way she spoke to him with genuine kindness and the way she said his name after introducing herself had his palms sweating from the nerves. It wasn’t until she practically floated away at the end of their brief interaction that he realized there was far more to her than meets the eye.
After that day, he started watching her far more closely, noting the way she carried herself with a confidence even Uhtred could not match and moved unnaturally gracefully. Her skin was flawless, not such much as even a freckle on her face. Her teeth were pearly white and straight, something he had never seen before. There were no scars or calluses on her hands, no dirty nails or even dirt on her. She was easily the cleanest woman he had ever seen, no dirt or dust on her clothes and not a hair out of place from her simple styles. In truth, she was perfect. Too perfect.
He tried bringing it up to Finan and Osferth a week later, but they brushed him off and said he shouldn’t look too far into it, both of them more concerned with enjoying the relative peace they were afforded for the time. He didn’t wish to bother Uhtred with his concerns, since he was busy with his own duties and his family. No one else was willing to hear his words on the matter and instead, he figured that he was the only one who noticed that there was something off about this woman.
It took a few months of observing and getting nowhere, so he finally decided to ask her to join him for a drink at the ale house. Perhaps if she had a little alcohol in her system, she would slip up and Sihtric would see beyond the illusion that surrounded her. Was it the proper thing to do? No, but he was too scared to ask her outright in the event he offended her and something in her demeanor warned him not to do that. When she agreed to join him that evening, he won’t deny the sheer joy he felt at the possibility of spending more than just a few moments in her presence made him forget the whole reason he asked in the first place.
The evening passed by smoothly, ale flowing and conversation moving at just the right pace, but she didn’t show any signs of being affected at all. Sihtric was dumbfounded, she had matched him mug for mug and didn’t so much as even slur a single word. The ale house was warm from all the bodies occupying the hall, and even though he was starting to sweat from heat, she seemed completely unphased by it. Gods, her face wasn’t even flushed, but no one else noticed since they were too deep in their cups or focused on their lovers.
At one point, the ale house was so loud he leaned closer to her he could say something to her only for the most potent and intoxicating scent radiating off her skin to overwhelm his senses. It was rich and smoky, slightly sweet and altogether not entirely unpleasant. He groaned softly before catching himself, his eyes locking with hers as she gave him a knowing grin. Sihtric flushed with embarrassment, clearing his throat and downing the rest of his drink and forgetting what he was doing, once again. Every time he spoke, she gave him her undivided attention and when the torch light flickered against her eyes, he swore they appeared almost serpentine and glowed with an inner fire, but when he blinked they were normal once more. He thought maybe his ale addled mind was playing tricks on him, but something in the way she smiled at him told him otherwise.
That night, after having said goodbye and parting ways, Sihtric didn’t sleep a wink as he mulled over every interaction with her. He thought himself to exhaustion, thinking how she remained a mystery even after an entire evening spent with her. She looked and acted human, but only on the surface. He couldn’t quite wrap his mind around it, refusing to believe she was something more on just blind faith. Maybe Finan and Osferth were right, he shouldn’t look too far into it, lest he find an answer he isn’t ready for. His last thought before succumbing to sleep was that he should just accept this was something he was not meant to know.
Rumors from traveling merchants had the whole of Coocham abuzz, stories of some beasts lurking within the woods and preying on the unsuspecting along the roads setting Sihtric on edge. He wasn’t completely oblivious to the rumors that unnatural creatures lurked within the forests at night, but his fear was less for himself and more for his pretty lady. He knew she lived out there alone and even if she was more than a little strange, he worried for her safety against those monsters. When he saw her next, he pulled her off to the side, wanting her to stay in town with him for the time but she refused.
”Please, my lady. It is not safe for you to be alone out there, the stories from travelers worsen everyday. Is there nothing I can say to convince you to stay in town?” He all but pleaded with her, staring into her enchanting eyes and hoping she would see reason.
“I promise you Sihtric, I will be fine. There is nothing out there that will harm me, trust me. Your concern for me is touching and I do appreciate it, but it is wholly unnecessary,” was her response before she glided off once more, leaving him at a loss for words.
He ran his hand down his face after she had left, thinking of how he could ensure her safety before deciding to do something impulsive. If she wouldn’t stay with him, then maybe he could keep an eye on her out there. Which is exactly what he would do, loading his horse with supplies for a day or two after informing Uhtred he was going to look into the rumors of these beasts. It wasn’t a complete lie, but he knew his lord wouldn’t just let him leave if he said he wanted to check in on a random woman. Finan gave him a knowing look, but he knew better than to try and stop the Dane when he had that determined look in his eye.
So, here he was, riding out towards where he guessed his mysterious lady lived as the sun began its descent in the early afternoon. It was foolish and reckless, but he was a warrior and had no fear facing that which goes bump in the night. He set up camp in a clearing after having wandered for some time, the sky varying shades of purple and blue as the sun sank low on the horizon, having not had luck finding where she might live. Normally, the sounds of the night didn’t bother him but this night was different. He couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched and he was consciously aware that he was alone out here, the moonlight casting its pale glow on the wildflowers that grew among the grass. He fell into an uneasy sleep in his bedroll, the fire dying down and the chill of the night slowly creeping into his furs.
A low growl woke him from his fitful sleep, his eyes snapping open as he saw the unmistakable yellow eyes of a werewolf staring back at him. The large beast was on all fours, saliva dripping from its open mouth and teeth gleaming in the moonlight. The two stared at each other, Sihtric cursing himself internally for not having packed a silver blade in his haste to leave Coocham as he wrapped his hand around the hilt of his sword, preparing for a fight he may not win. He knew the only way to land even a blow would come from the element of surprise and well timed dodging, as there was no way he would move faster or be stronger than werewolf. For a beat, they merely looked at each other before the wolf launched himself at Sihtric, the latter dodging at the last moment and bringing his blade down to slash at the torso. He managed to slice a shallow cut, only serving to anger the creature much to his chagrin. The feral and now pissed werewolf backhanded Sihtric in the stomach, effectively throwing him several feet away from the small camp and knocking the wind out of him as his sword was flung from his grasp.
Just as Sihtric’s vision cleared slightly, the beast was on him, pinning him down with its large paws and snarling in his face. His hands came up to push against the creature's chest, pouring every ounce of his strength into fighting it off. Before the wolf could make the final kill, a loud roar filled the air before the ground shook and a massive dragon landed harshly not far from the fighting pair. The wolf seemed to be distracted by the newest arrival, giving Sihtric the opportunity to wiggle out from under it as the dragon slowly advanced on them, a deep rumble escaping its maw. He stared at the mythical creature, feeling light headed from both the fight and the realization that such a being existed. Sure he had heard stories, but they were supposed to be just that, stories.
The two supernatural entities growled and snarled at each other, the werewolf clearly not wanting to fight but angered its meal was interrupted. Sihtric tried to slowly make his way to his blade, giving the creatures a wide berth while keeping his eyes on them. He was breathing heavy and moving slow, the adrenaline beginning to wear off and the pain of his injuries making themselves known. No sooner than he had his sword in hand did the dragon roar lowly once more, a warning for the wolf to leave or else. Seeming to consider its options, its yellowed gaze switching between Sihtric and the scaled beast before deciding to try its luck at getting Sihtric. A foolish choice, and its last.
Before the werewolf made a bound in his direction, scorching hot fire poured from the mouth of the dragon and engulfed the werewolf. The smell of burning flush and the sound of crying wolf overwhelmed Sihtric’s already sensitive senses, and his vision blurred at the edges as he turned away and proceeded to hurl the contents of his stomach onto the barely lit ground. He used his sword as a makeshift cane as he dropped to his knees, the familiar feeling of the hilt grounding him in his rapidly shifting reality. He turned his head and looked at the dragon, who was already watching him closely. He may have imagined it, but he could swear the damned thing looked concerned for him. He had no fight left in him, a look of acceptance for his inevitable death crossing his face as he hoped the dragon would make it quick.
Naturally, this night would only get weirder for him as the beast walked a bit closer before its scales started to twist and fold in on itself, shrinking in size until the unmistakable look of human legs and arms appeared as it shifted into its mortal form. The wings wrapped around the now human, scales disappearing beneath skin as it walked closer, the face of the dragon morphing into a face Sihtric knew all too well. Horns slowly shrank into her skull and as leathery wings forced their way back into her skin between her shoulder blades. Sihtric’s vision blurred once more as the blood rushed to his head, the last thing he saw before fainting entirely being the face of the woman he had been out here for, her bare arms catching him before his head hit the ground.
Tagging: @sihtricfedaraaahvicius @whitedarkmoonflower @gemini-mama @mrsarnasdelicious @synintheraven
@zaldritzosrose @alexagirlie @legitalicat @thenameswinter99 @fallingintoyourlilaceyes
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„I hope, I’ll always have you in my mind, so that I know to find you every time.“
„Put your head on my chest, that’s your safe place. We‘ll fall deeper in love every day. From life unto life and for always.“ („Soul Mate“ by Flora Cash)
There’s something in my current life, that came hand in hand with my disease ME/CFS…slowly creeping into my fibres…infecting my mind with sadness. It’s loneliness, that I’m talking about. Overwhelming, crushing, suffocating loneliness.
Before this cruel bitch of a disease put a stopper in my life, as I knew it from before, I haven’t been healthy, either. But neither my severe Colitis Ulcerosa, nor the other few sicknesses and disabilities had achieved to break me the way, ME/CFS broke me!
What’s left, is only a shell of myself…a sad shadow of the woman, I’ve been prior to today. Where did the intelligent, sassy, witty and caring person go to, when she disappeared so insidiously from my personality? On some days, I still get a little glimpse of her, when I’m talking to my beloved friends @vulnus-sanare, @preciousthelmadonna or my bestie Miri, who often just “enjoys” sitting beside me in my dark room…embraced by silence and darkness. These tiny jiffies, when I’m recognising my previous character…my true nature, even though it’s only for a brief time, I’m feeling a little less anxious…a little less worthless.
But sadly, these moments become more rare with each new PEM crash of my disease (PEM = Post-exertional malaise = worsening of symptoms after certain activities). It feels as if I’m fading away from life…I’m fading away from other people’s lives as well as from my own.
Since I can’t leave my dark room - and most of the time even my bed - I’m not capable of joining social gatherings anymore. It’s impossible for me to endure listening to more than one person at once, so even my three kids have to “visit” me one after the other in my chamber. There are days, when I can’t even reply to messages from others, just because screen time is killing me.
All the more, I’m grateful for these few friends, who stay with me, no matter how silent I am, because they make me feel worthier and loved. And yet, I’m afraid of not being able to give them the same amount of support in return…due to the restrictions of my cruel reality, which are confining me.
So, there are many days, which I’m spending in total gloominess and silence with nothing but solitude surrounding me. And even if I’d be capable of sending text or audio messages (since I can’t type them out properly sometimes), I often hold myself back from reaching out to these understanding friends…only because I don’t want to be a burden to them.
I commissioned the lovely artist @hannisimp for this beautiful piece of art. Lin, you gave me exactly, what I needed with this tender artwork of yours. You gave me the feeling of being less alone. Severus accompanies me for 21 years now. He’s the safe haven, the comfort blanket, which I’m clinging to so desperately! My dear, I can’t stress enough, how grateful I am for your fine art. You made the love and the trust between Severus and my - oh, so self-inserted - OC Jules become palpable. There are no words to express my gratitude, so I just stay with these: Thank you for everything, my friend! Thank you for your talent, your kindness and each of your messages. I won’t ever take these things for granted.
🖤Severus & Julia🖤
🖤Sevy & Jules🖤
#Severus x Julia#Sevy x Jules#severus x oc#fuck me/cfs#commissioning artwork is my goddamn coping mechanism#this is my red carpet for all the artists of snape fandom#I‘m so fucking lonely#loneliness#severus snape#i love snape#he’s by my side for 21 years now#21 years and still counting#snape#i love severus#pro snape#snape love#i would protect him with my life#snape content#pro severus snape#severus snape art#snart#severus fanart#severus snape fan art#snape art#mecfs#writing is my coping mechanism#snapedom
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Yandere Gahyeon, first she would be really shy and introvert but when you showed her a little attention, she would fall deeper and deeper into madness to be yours?
MAKE U MINE
YANDERE GAHYEON X MALE READER
The sizzling meat blurred in Gahyeon's vision, tears threatening to spill as another group of fans swarmed SuA and Dami for a picture. The restaurant echoed with laughter, a vibrant contrast to the quiet terror gnawing at her.
"Gahyeon-ah," Yoohyeon teased, her voice playful. "Still the invisible woman, huh?"
Gahyeon forced a smile, the sting of rejection a familiar ache. Unlike her outgoing members, Gahyeon craved a genuine connection, not the fleeting adulation of fans. But with her shy nature, that connection always felt just out of reach.
Suddenly, a voice pierced the cheerful chaos. A man, seemingly lost amidst the crowd, hesitantly approached their table. His eyes, a gentle brown, held a genuineness that sent a jolt through Gahyeon. A smile played on his lips, breaking the tension that had gripped her.
"Excuse me," he began, his voice soft but polite. "Is this Dreamcatcher?"
The other members erupted in surprised greetings, but Gahyeon found herself speechless, mesmerized by the warmth radiating from him.
"I'm a huge fan," he continued, his gaze lingering on her for a beat too long. "Especially you. Would it be too much to ask for a picture… together?"
Gahyeon's world tilted on its axis. Here, amidst the usual frenzy of fan requests, was someone singling her out. A blush flooded her cheeks, her voice barely a whisper as she stammered out a yes.
The moment the picture was taken, the other members started buzzing with excitement.
"Wow, Gahyeon-unnie, you and him look good together!" Dami squealed, her eyes wide with mischief.
Heat flooded Gahyeon's face, her usual shyness momentarily forgotten. Y/n, the stranger's name, chuckled sheepishly. The interaction was brief, but the memory of his kindness lingered with Gahyeon long after his departure.
Back in their dorm, Gahyeon couldn't shake the feeling of connection. She impulsively typed Y/n's number into her phone, her fingers trembling with a mix of excitement and fear. A text message left unsent hung in the chat box. Finally, with a deep breath, she hit send.
"Hi, this is Gahyeon from Dreamcatcher. Thank you for asking for a picture back at the restaurant. It meant a lot."
The reply came almost instantly. "No problem, Gahyeon. It was amazing meeting you. You're even more beautiful in person."
A giddy feeling bubbled inside Gahyeon. Over the next few days, a whirlwind of messages blossomed into late-night conversations. Y/n listened to her anxieties about idol life, offering words of comfort that soothed her loneliness. Gahyeon, in turn, discovered a kind, caring man who saw beyond the K-pop persona.
But this newfound happiness twisted within Gahyeon. The once shy girl became possessive and obsessive. Every ping of her phone, every conversation not about him, sparked a growing fear of losing this connection. Her texts became constant, demanding, her calls more frequent.
Y/n, initially understanding of her shyness, grew wary of the increasingly clingy behavior. He tried to gently set boundaries, but Gahyeon interpreted his attempts as rejection. Fear turned to rage, and Gahyeon began a terrifying descent into madness.
Driven by an unhealthy possessiveness, Gahyeon started digging into Y/n's life. Social media, public records, anything to feel closer to him. One day, she found a picture of him with another woman, a friend according to the caption. But to Gahyeon, it was a betrayal, a threat to her fragile hold on happiness.
Fury and obsession warred within her. She sent a barrage of messages, accusing him of infidelity. Y/n, overwhelmed by the sudden accusations, tried to reason with her, but Gahyeon was beyond reason.
Days turned into a horrifying silence. Y/n, fearing for his safety, stopped responding. But Gahyeon wouldn't let go. She started appearing outside his workplace, leaving cryptic messages soaked in red paint on his doorstep. Her sweet persona had been devoured by a terrifying intensity.
One night, Y/n received a call. A distorted voice, devoid of its former sweetness, rasped through the phone. "You'll never escape me," it whispered. "You'll see how much I truly love you."
Y/n hung up, his hand trembling. Gahyeon wasn't the shy girl he'd fallen for. She was a monster, and her twisted love was a cage from which there seemed to be no escape.
The paranoia gnawed at Y/n like a ravenous rat. Sleep was a luxury he no longer afforded, every rustle of leaves outside his new apartment window sending jolts of terror through him. He jumped at every chirp of a bird, every ring of his (now disconnected) phone.
One day, while venturing out for groceries, disguised in a cap and sunglasses, his world tilted on its axis. There, across the street, was Gahyeon. Her eyes, once filled with warmth, were now hollow pits of obsessive devotion.
She didn't approach him then, but the encounter shattered any remaining hope. Y/n knew then that changing his life wasn't enough. He needed to disappear, vanish into thin air, a ghost with no past and an uncertain future.
The sacrifice was immense. His career, his dreams – all abandoned at the altar of fear. Yet, survival was the only instinct left. He reached out to a private investigator, a man who specialized in vanishing acts. The cost was exorbitant, but Y/n was willing to give up everything just to breathe freely again.
The investigator, a gruff man named Han, laid out the harsh realities. A new identity, a new life in a remote village, and complete radio silence were the only guarantees. Y/n agreed without hesitation.
The process was agonizingly slow. Weeks turned into months as Han meticulously crafted a new life for Y/n. A new name, a fabricated backstory, and a one-way ticket to a secluded village nestled in the mountains – a place untouched by the frenzy of the idol world.
The day of departure arrived, shrouded in a suffocating veil of sadness. Leaving his life behind felt like dying, but the thought of facing Gahyeon's twisted affection was far more terrifying.
As the plane soared higher and higher, Y/n stole a glance at his new identity. Minjun. A simple name for a simple life. Yet, a flicker of doubt remained. Could he truly escape the clutches of a stalker driven by a warped sense of love?
The answer arrived a month later, shattering the fragile peace Y/n had built. A package arrived, addressed to Minjun, containing a single item – a Dreamcatcher photocard, Gahyeon's face defaced with a disturbing crimson smile.
The message was clear: no matter where he ran, her twisted love would follow. Fear, cold and suffocating, wrapped itself around Y/n once more. He may have escaped Seoul, but escaping Gahyeon's warped affection seemed like an impossible dream.
#dreamcatcher#gahyeon#dreamcatcher gahyeon#yandere roleplay#yandere blog#yandere stories#yandere#kpop yandere#kpop#kpop x reader#kpop x y/n#x male reader#beautiful#sexy content#apreciation post#update
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are there any core personality traits that both normal stellar and villain stellar share?
Yes they do! 😁
At her core, Stellar is a curious, intelligent, and fun-loving person. Even Villain!Stellar inherited the playful gene from Sonic, despite the fact she hides it very well. I imagine without the watchful eye of her supervisors and the immense weight of all the expectations set upon her, she'd actually have a very quiet soft side.
I can see her seeing a kitten in real life for the first time and being totally enamored, crouching down to pet it with a small smile on her tired face. Maybe stopping to admire a blooming cherry tree, or taking a seat in an open, sunny field just to feel the wind in her quills.
Ingrained within her is the innate love of Earth, a feeling that was passed down from both of her parents. I think a lot of her life is spent locked up, so those brief moments she is allowed out on some top secret mission, she really memorizes every new thing she gets to see. After all, her room back at Cosmic Labs is sterile, sparsely decorated, and blindingly florescent.
She is also a very emotional person, but in this AU that aspect of her is greatly suppressed, meaning her outbursts of emotion are far more explosive than her hero counterpart. She bottles things up, quietly resents, and simmers in her rage.
I even think she has her sense of justice, still, albeit twisted. She is basically brainwashed, so she THINKS she's on the right side of the fence, even if she's not. It's also what makes her so passionate about her missions, she sees it as a way of proving her worth and securing validation. She has no parental figures besides the scientists that raised her, so her self-esteem is almost entirely hinged upon her identity as the Perfected Ultimate Lifeform, as that is what they expect her to be.
#answered asks#lore dump#emthim rambles#stellar the hedgehog#villain!stellar#sonic the hedgehog#shadow the hedgehog#sonadow#shadonic#sth#sonadow fankid#sonadow fanchild#sonic#shadow
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Savior
Mizu x Y/N - drabble - 1.1K WC
Masterlist
Warnings: prostitution, attempted SA (not too detailed just implied), Mizu being sexy, he/him pronouns for Mizu
-----------------------------------
You had never met someone with eyes like yours. You wore glasses every day, the world appearing dark and dim because of them. You worked for Madame Kaji; being left on a brothel's doorstep as an infant. She saved you from the cold and raised you. She couldn’t stand to watch you be a prostitute, you were practically her own. So she made you useful in other ways. Fetching things for her, cooking, cleaning, always making sure the girls had whatever they needed. You also managed to learn quite a bit of judo. A necessity as you got older, mens wandering eyes and rough hands attempting to take you more often than you would like to admit. Today was no different, you had gathered all the groceries you had been sent to get. You prepared soup for you and Madame Kaji before she had to go and tend to the clients. You only really got to see her in brief moments like these.
“Good evening mama.” you smiled sweetly at her as you set her bowl in front of her before giving her cheek a delicate kiss.
She smiled at you before she started eating, “I want you to be careful today.” she said.
“I’m always careful.” you shrugged.
“No, I mean it.” she said as she forcefully set her spoon down. “We have dangerous company.”
You nodded, not wanting to further vex her. You both ate in silence, content with the atmosphere. You both stood, you going to clean. Madame Kaji’s hand grabbed your wrist before you could make your swift exit. She pulled you back to her before she tucked your hair behind your ears. She slipped your glasses off, you squinted as you adjusted to the light.
“Rain child,” she said as she kissed your cheek, “how beautiful you are.”
You smiled and leaned into her touch. Nobody but her and the other prostitutes knew of your eyes. Everyone in the village assumed you were blind, not caring much in general about some whore mongers bastard child. Even Boss Hamata didn’t want you. You preferred it that way; better to be simple and plain than to attract every twisted glance that held nothing but malcontent. She left the small room. As you cleaned you couldn’t help but wonder what company she spoke of. To be fair, most of the usuals were harmless. But there will always be those who enjoy the pain of others.
You made your way down the hall; watching Ise shrug her Kimono back on as she walked out of one of the many rooms. She gave you a small smile before walking into the parlor to fetch her next client. You shuffled into the room, starting to clean it before one of the girls needed it. Straightening the table, refilling the sake, wiping the sweat and regret off the floor mats. You knew none of the girls liked this work. But you looked at all of them like sisters, you felt their pain and sorrow. You often snuck them sweets Madame Kaji bought for you two to share. Life could always be a little sweeter, even in a small regard. You were almost finished cleaning when you heard what sounded like someone stumbling into the room. You turned and saw a man. Not a regular, tall and stocky. He swayed slightly, alcohol reeking from him. You bowed as you stepped back, putting space between you.
“You’re a… pretty one.” he hiccuped out as he shut the door behind him.
Your heart started racing, nothing good happens behind closed doors here. He stomped over to you harshly dragging you to the ground. He tried to pin you but you kicked him in the shoulder, sending him back. You scrambled up, almost reaching the door when he pulled you by the edge of your kimono. You fell to the ground, stomach against the floor. He held you down with one hand while the other pulled up your skirts. You sobbed and let out one shriek before he shoved your face into the floor, breaking your glasses in half. Your muffled sobs were all that remained. You heard the door fly open and saw a flash of red splatter the walls, a few drops dotting your face. You froze, shock finally settling in as you realize what almost happened to you. Foreign hands rolled you over deftly, you heard their distant voice and saw them through your tunnel vision.
“Are you ok?” he asked, blue eyes meeting yours.
He leaned over top of you, arms on either side of your head. You both gawked at each other until you heard running down the hallway. Madame Kaji and a few other prostitutes rushed in. The scowl on your mothers face horrified you. She shoved the blue eyed stranger off you before raising her hand to strike him.
“How dare you touch them!” she shouted.
You caught her wrist right before she could make impact, “No mama! It wasn’t him.” you rushed out.
You looked towards the corpse in the opposite corner which was cut in half. You felt the mystery man's hands gently close your kimono which you hadn’t realized fell open. You blushed at his kindness, his respect. Madame Kaji helped you up, a slight shake in your legs from the fear of it all. She walked you to your room but not before you saw which room the blue eyed man entered. As you waited you couldn’t help but think of his eyes, his gentle yet rough hands. Your mind wandered, wanting to know how his lips felt. You shook your head as you made your way to his room, slipping inside silently.
The samurai’s eyes immediately found yours, yet he remained silent.
“May I sit?” you asked softly.
He nodded.
“I wanted to thank you…” you said, “I also wanted… to see…” your thoughts tapered out, embarrassed of what you truly wanted to ask. “Your eyes.”
He held a look you couldn’t place an emotion to, “Sit.” is all he said.
You sat closer than he expected, faces inches apart. You knew this position was unbecoming but you didn’t seem to care. You had only ever seen one other person with different eyes, Yuko the prostitute with green eyes and golden hair. But these were blue, just like yours. You admired them looking at the beautiful samurai overall after a while and not just his eyes.
Your hand came up to gently cradle his face. You moved on instinct, giving him a chaste kiss before leaning back, “Thank you…”
“Mizu.” he answered after a moment, lips buzzing from the brief yet sweet kiss.
“Thank you Mizu.” you said before bowing and swiftly exiting the room.
Your heart raced, and little did you know, so did Mizu’s.
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Naboo's Note:
Hello! My first Blue Eyed Samurai post! YAYYYYYY! It's been a long time coming given my obsession with the show but better late than never! Thank you for all the likes and comments, super motivating! XOXOXOXOXOXOX
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Adrift With You - A Frankie Morales Series - Chapter 15
Summary: Heading away on a work re-location, Frankie embarks on a flight, but unbeknownst to him, his life is about to change forever. For starters, he will need to fight for it; harder than he's ever fought for anything else before.
Marooned on an isolated island in the middle of the ocean, still recovering from an addiction, his chances of survival are bleak; but he’s not alone on the island, and soon he’s running towards a different kind of life - a life with fellow survivor, Jude, fighting right beside him every step of the way.
And if they can both survive the island together, they can survive anything, right?
Pairing: Frankie Morales x OFC Jude
Chapter word count: 9.3k
SERIES MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST
☝🏻See Series Masterlist for full smut warnings & triggers in this story. Chapters that contain smut or triggers will be highlighted in the chapter notes below. 👇🏻
Chapter notes: Was being rescued real or just a dream? Smut in this chapter. Mentions of death/addiction.
Enjoy! 🖤
Chapter 14
Captain Sandy Eccles and First Officer Mark Kowalczyk sit in the cockpit of their Airbus A380, preparing their journey from New York to Madagascar.
Sandy settles into his seat at the controls, papery fingers dancing across the instrument panel as he initiates the pre-flight checks. Mark, meanwhile, takes up a position beside him, double-checking each step of the process to ensure nothing is overlooked.
"Flight control surfaces checked," Sandy announces, his brisk voice calm and authoritative. "Elevator, ailerons, and rudder are all responding within normal parameters."
Mark nods in acknowledgment, his eyes scanning the various gauges and displays before him. "Hydraulic systems pressure within limits," he confirms, his tone focused and precise. "No anomalies detected in the engine indicators."
As they make their final preparations in the cockpit, a cheerful voice greets them from the doorway.
"Good morning, Captain, First Officer," says Emma, one of the senior cabin crew members, with a warm smile. "I thought you might like a pick-me-up before we start boarding."
In her hands, Emma holds a tray with steaming cups of coffee and a small basket of pastries.
Sandy’s face lights up with appreciation. "Emma, you're a lifesaver, doll," he exclaims, reaching for a cup of coffee. "Thank you so much."
He observes the coy looks exchanged between Mark and Emma who both seem to blush simultaneously and smile before she heads out and closes the cockpit door behind her.
“When are you going to quit making moon eyes and ask her out?” Sandy muses as he sips at his coffee.
Mark's cheeks flush even more pink as he shakes his head smiling. “Is it that obvious?”
“Yeah.” Sandy quips. "It's that obvious."
Mark chuckles as ground crew members bustle about below them, preparing the aircraft for boarding. Sandy and Mark take a moment to soak in the tranquil atmosphere and enjoy their breakfast.
The crew complete their final preparations for boarding, and Sandy and Mark continue their meticulous checks, verifying the functionality of crucial systems such as communications, navigation, and emergency equipment.
"Emergency exits are armed and cross-checked," Sandy announces, his gaze sweeping over the overhead panel. "Cabin pressure and oxygen systems confirmed operational."
Mark nods again in approval, his attention shifting to the weather radar display. "Weather radar functioning normally," he reports, his voice carrying a note of vigilance. "Keeping an eye on storm activity along our route. There’s a small swell over north-east Africa. Nothing to get too excited about."
With the pre-flight checks completed and the aircraft ready for departure, they find a brief lull in the hectic pre-departure activities to indulge in a conversation about their upcoming destination.
"Madagascar, huh?" Mark remarks, glancing at Sandy with a relieved smile. "Ever been there before?"
Sandy nods. “Several times. It never gets boring. You?”
“First time. Got a layover.”
“Has Emma got a layover too?”
Mark turns away trying to stifle a brewing grin.
“Mmm-hmm.” Sandy says, flicking controls with a smirk. “Enjoy it together. It’s paradise at this time of year. Stifling... with the heat.”
Several hours in and the flight has been smooth sailing as they cruise high above the Atlantic, but ahead looms a growing storm system, visible on the radar as a swirling mass of red and yellow.
And Sandy can see the darker clouds miles out in the distance.
He glances at Mark, his trusty co-pilot, and adjusts his headset over silver streaked hair. "Looks like we've got some weather ahead. Let's start planning a deviation. Those clouds are looking pretty gnarly."
Mark nods, his expression focused. "Agreed. We'll need to navigate around the storm to avoid the worst of it. The width is reported at one hundred and forty miles.”
“Hurricane?” Sandy queries.
“Possibly. I'll contact air traffic control for updated route instructions."
As Mark radioes air traffic control, Sandy studies the storm on the navigation display. He recognizes the signs of a significant cell but remains calm and focused, his confidence bolstered by his past experiences navigating similar weather systems.
"We'll need to deviate round to the south of the continent to skirt the edge of the storm. Once we're clear, we can resume our original course." Sandy says.
"Roger that," Mark replies, jotting down the revised route on his flight plan. "I'll inform the passengers about the deviation and reassure them that it's just a precaution."
Sandy nods as Mark speaks into the intercom.
"Ladies and gentlemen, this is your First Officer speaking. We've encountered some rough weather ahead, so we'll be deviating from our planned route to avoid the storm. This’ll tack on about an extra hour of flight time and we apologise in advance for the delay. Please remain seated with your seatbelts fastened, and we'll do our best to keep the ride as smooth as possible."
Back in the economy cabin, both Frankie and Jude, unknown strangers at this point, don't hear the announcement, both have their headphones in; Jude being blasted with rock anthems and Frankie absorbed into a film he isn’t all that interested in.
With the new route set, Sandy and Mark begin the process of adjusting the aircraft's heading to avoid the storm. As they descend to a lower altitude, the turbulence increases after a little while, causing the plane to jostle and sway.
Sandy grips the control yoke firmly, his eyes fixed on the horizon. "Storm’s got a damn wide berth. Hang on, Mark. It's going to be a bit bumpy."
"We've got this. Just a little further to go round." Mark reassures. "Nice and easy."
Despite their best efforts, the storm's intensity grows, and the turbulence becomes overwhelming. A powerful downdraft slams into the aircraft, causing it to lose altitude rapidly.
Alarms sound on the controls and Mark gasps realising a turbine has malfunctioned.
“Fuck.” Mark's heart races as he quickly scans the engine indicators. "Turbine two is showing abnormal readings," he reports, his voice tense. "Looks like it's malfunctioning due to the sudden change in airflow."
Sandy weighs their options. "We need to shut it down before it causes more damage. Initiate the emergency shutdown procedure for turbine two."
With a sense of urgency, Mark follows the established protocols, shutting down the malfunctioning turbine to prevent further complications. The aircraft shudders again as the remaining engines strain to compensate for the loss of power.
"Emergency checklist initiated," Mark confirms, his voice steady despite the chaos unfolding around them on the control panels. "Shit. It’s not working!”
"We're losing altitude!" Sandy shouts, struggling to regain control of the plane.
"Mayday. Mayday. Mayday-" Mark begins radioing into air traffic control.
A loud explosion is heard on the left side of the plane.
Sandy frantically adjusts the controls, trying to stabilise the aircraft with Mark. Despite their best efforts, the aircraft continues to falter, its descent becoming increasingly erratic.
"I can't hold her! We’re going down! Brace for impact!" Sandy bellows over the screech of the failing engines.
“Brace! Brace!” Mark yells into the radio, his shrill instruction echoing around the aircraft. The faint sounds of screaming can be heard from the cabin.
With a deafening roar, the plane strikes the surface of the ocean, its wings shattering upon impact and fuselage torn apart. Water floods into the cockpit as the aircraft begins to sink beneath the choppy waves.
Sandy is killed instantly upon the impact of nose diving, and Mark fights against the rising water, desperately trying to free himself from his seat. But it’s no use.
He drowns, unable to escape his fate, moments later.
After just over a year on the island; one year, one month and ten days to be precise, (or if you want to get real into the numbers to work it out, I’ll save you the trouble - it’s four hundred and five agonising days) with it just being the two of them, the hustle and bustle of people suddenly swarming around them can be too much to bear.
It’s a natural reaction, after spending copious amounts of time in a peaceful place with no noise except the soft conversation of the person beside you, that any loud noises or crowds will alarm you.
Jude watches Frankie for a brief moment, like all the hysteria around her has fizzed away and she’s studying him under a microscope. Watching how he becomes bewildered and a slight panic rises up inside of his wide brown eyes, taking them over, and then disappears as quickly as it comes.
And then he's alert once more, like he’s just woken up and knows where he is all over again, a sudden spark of remembrance breaking through the dark dementia-like cloud swirling inside his mind.
Frankie will be ghostly still until a small movement, a sudden jolt in his back like he’s hiccupped, will convince her he isn’t a robot sitting rigid on the chair next to her in the ship’s main control room as they wait to dock on the mainland.
They’re dry and dressed in ill-fitting Navy gear; grey sweatpants and sweaters that are a little too long in the arms and swamp their malnourished frames. It feels strange to have shoes back on her feet as Jude looks down at the plimsolls with laces tied in a neat, floppy bow at her ankles.
Frankie holds a warm cup of coffee inside of his right hand that he sips slowly; the other is firmly interlocked with her fingers inside her lap. The bitter aroma of it filters into his nose and it’s a scent he savours for a few moments, even if it tastes like watered down shit, waiting for the familiarity to register, before he sips it and licks the sharp residue off of his lips.
Jude reaches forward and wipes away a drip of coffee caught inside his bushy beard fibres, shining at her like a brown diamond, and smiles. She tugs on his beard gently.
“I’m going to miss this.”
“I’m fuckin’ not.” Frankie chuckles. “It’s coming off the first chance I get.”
She purses her lips and makes a sad face as he rolls his eyes, smirking as he drinks his coffee some more, bewildered that he’s drinking coffee again at all after drinking tasteless rain water for so long.
A swill of officers are on deck, chattering and the sounds of radio exchanges with tinny voices is heard somewhere in the distance, ebbing around them.
Frankie looks back and forth at Jude with an expression that is mostly unchanging during the journey back to land.
It begins to creep her out a little bit the more she sees it; making prickles rise on the back of her neck. He suddenly has a way of making her nervous for absolutely no reason at all each time she glances up at him hunched over the coffee cup unmoving and looking like he has no idea where he is again.
Through the rhythmic hum of the engines filling the air, she finds herself struggling to comprehend the reality of their situation herself. It all feels like a dream - a hazy, surreal blur of events that she can't quite wrap her mind around.
They've been rescued, she reminds herself, her heart pounding in her chest as she gazes out at the vast expanse of ocean stretching endlessly before them. After days - or was it weeks? - in the aftermath of the tsunami, they've finally been found, plucked from the brink of oblivion by the steady hand of fate.
But despite the overwhelming evidence of their salvation - the towering masts of the ship, the crisp uniforms of the crew bustling about their duties - Jude can't shake the lingering sense of disbelief that clings to her like a stubborn shadow.
It all seems too good to be true, too improbable to be real. She pinches her arm again and feels nothing but a terrifying numbness to it.
Wake up...
Frankie notices and glances down at her squeezing her skin between her nails.
“Hey,” he says, releasing her grip. “Jude. It’s really happening.”
His eyes draw her in, ground her feet to the soft vibrations of the ship cutting through the waves, drawing ever closer to the distant horizon where the promise of land awaits, she finds herself clinging to his hand tighter, her fingers white-knuckled with tension.
Each passing moment feels like a lifetime, each mile bringing them closer to a destination that still feels impossibly far away.
But then Frankie flinches again, like music blasting through earphones loudly into his ear canal unexpectedly as the captain approaches them.
“We’re almost there, not much longer now. We’ll escort you guys to the American embassy. I’ve had a chat with them about you. They’re going to help you get home.” He announces clearly.
“Thank you,” Jude replies, timidly, the sound of her own voice seeming too loud to her as her thoughts try to arrange themselves into some sort of comprehension.
“Where’s ‘there’?” Frankie questions the captain.
“South Africa, Cape Town, Sir.”
“I’ll be back. Drink some of this shitty coffee.” Frankie smiles at her, as he pushes the cup into her trembling fingers.
"I hate coffee..." She smiles, weakly.
"I know." Frankie squeezes Jude’s hand and then follows the captain.
Frankie hovers beside him looking out at the large windows in the vast control room.
“Captain. You said we were found amongst a group of islands?” Frankie asks him carefully.
“Yes Sir, the Prince Edward Islands.” He points to the satellite at two large, land-shaped clusters. “Those are the mainland islands, but we picked you up on a smaller rock scattered further out. There are lots of them. The islands have been previously used for penguin conservation. No-one inhabits them anymore though.”
“I think someone did at some point.” Frankie concludes.
“What do you mean?” The captain asks.
“There was evidence of someone being on that island long before us. There was a man-made structure built, like a shelter? We found a switchblade and rusted tin cans. And remains…”
The captain nods thoughtfully. “It could have been someone from the conservation team, or maybe someone like yourselves who got stranded for a while? Fishermen get stuck out here on a regular basis if the tide turns. But there haven’t been any reported people missing to my knowledge for years. We’re out here a lot, supporting the territories. We have our base at Port Elizabeth.”
Frankie thinks for a moment. “Your officer in the boat, he said he looked for us. I’m wondering how far off course the plane was when it crashed,” Frankie says, folding his arms around himself as he looks out the window at the empty sea presented before him.
The captain turns to him. “Most searches are conducted in and around the immediate area where the plane drops off of radar-”
“Yeah, I know. I-I used to fly. Army. Retired.” Frankie explains tentatively.
“Ranking?”
“Captain.”
The captain salutes at Frankie out of respect for an equal. “Your training kept you alive. Might’ve been a different story if you were just a regular civvie.”
As Frankie stands on the deck of the naval ship, his gaze fixed on the distant horizon, he can't help but reflect on the harrowing journey that brought them both to this moment.
Despite the overwhelming odds stacked against them, they had survived - against all logic, against all reason. And as he looks back on their time adrift at sea, trapped on the island, enduring the forceful brunt of the tsunami, he realises that the captain is right; it probably was his training in the army that had kept them both alive for so long.
In the face of danger, his instincts had kicked in, guiding Jude through the treacherous waters with a steely determination born from years of discipline and resilience.
Whether it was rationing their meagre supplies, building shelter, or weathering the brutal storms that swept across the ocean, he had drawn upon the skills honed during his time in the military to keep them safe, to keep them alive.
But it wasn't just his training that had seen them through - it was also the unwavering bond forged between them in the crucible of adversity. Together, they had faced the raging tempests and the relentless swells, standing side by side against the onslaught of the island’s fury.
And in those moments of darkness, it was their shared strength, their shared determination, that had sustained them when all hope seemed lost.
“Crews were out here, including us supporting them, scouting for wreckage for weeks. We found some, but of course you have to remember the ocean is vast; debris can travel in all sorts of directions on the current, and can travel at different speeds. It’s impossible to search the entire ocean for survivors, especially when we didn’t find any at all in the immediate vicinity where the plane went down.” The captain swallows and Frankie watches distantly as his Adam's apple bobs in his throat like a forlorn knot.
“I’m sorry that you guys weren’t found sooner, I really am. We were convinced everyone on that plane had perished, all the evidence we found suggested it. You guys drifted so far from the crash site, that it’s a pure miracle you survived.”
“A miracle.” Frankie snorts.
“What else could it be?” The captain queries.
Frankie doesn’t answer. Instead pondering it quietly to himself as he stares back out at the ocean as an officer approaches the captain diverting his attention.
Emotionally sterile and just gazing out at nothing; seeing nothing even though a dark land shaped mass is visible on the horizon now.
There's a surge of hope - a flicker of excitement igniting deep within his chest at the prospect of finally reaching solid ground after so long being lost.
But alongside the hope, there's also a twinge of apprehension - a nagging doubt curling into something fretful that whispers in the back of his mind, reminding him of all they've endured and the uncertain future that lies ahead.
Frankie looks down at his hands to find them shaking again. Fingers trembling with a mind of their own.
He squeezes them into tight fists, nails cutting into his palms, and willing himself to calm down.
When the ship docks, Frankie and Jude are escorted to a Navy vehicle and driven inwards from the coast towards central Cape Town.
Jude looks out the window, observing the colourful, loud world that has left them behind for so long. The dusty streets, the aromas from food stalls as they pass bustling markets making her stomach growl with the infusion of spices tickling her nose as they waft in through the windows of the car.
The yells and sounds of people crowded in the streets make her ears ache. The rumble of passing cars reverberates heavily through the air, their engines growling as they prowl the bustling streets. The screech of brakes and the blaring of horns add a discordant note to the air and she practically jumps out of her skin every time it happens.
She feels a gentle squeeze around her hand and looks across the seat at Frankie as he holds his arm out and she shifts closer to him, into the safe embrace of him, ever wearing that cautious gaze in his furtive eyes.
“Who are you going to call?” Jude asks him dreamily, as they both stare emptily at the scenery whizzing by them in a blur.
“Ghostbusters,” he remarks with a sardonic grin and then shrugs. “Fuck, I don’t even know…”
Despite being rescued, a pang of anxiety claws at his starving gut as he comes to a sobering realisation - he doesn't know any numbers off by heart to call anyone and let them know he's safe.
In the chaotic aftermath of their rescue, amidst the flurry of activity and the rush of emotions, he hasn't given much thought to the practicalities of reaching out to loved ones. Now, faced with the stark reality of his predicament, he feels a surge of panic rising within him. How will they know he's alive? How will they know he's safe?
Will anyone even care to know?
“You gonna call your mom?” He asks, swallowing down the bile.
“I bet she won’t believe it’s me really calling her.” Jude says with a weak smile birthing out on her face.
It seems an incredibly daunting thought; the anticipation to call and hear her voice is overwhelming, surreal even. Like it will never bloom into fruition because the pain of saying the words out loud - explaining where she’s been for the past four hundred and five days - is unbearable to even begin unravelling apart to make sense of for herself, let alone another hysterical person on the end of a phone line.
As the Naval car rumbles along the busy streets, inching its way towards the embassy, Frankie and Jude find themselves momentarily halted by traffic jamming up. The sounds of honking horns and distant chatter fill the air, mingling with the stifling heat of the evening.
In the midst of the commotion, a young African boy on a battered moped pulls up beside them, his eyes wide with curiosity as he peers in through the car window.
His dark skin is coated with a sheen of sweat, and his gaze, filled with a mixture of wonder and innocence, falls upon them both, taking in their appearances with a mixture of awe and confusion.
Frankie can feel the weight of the boy's curious stare, a silent observer to their dishevelled state - clothes too big, hair wind-tossed, faces etched with exhaustion and relief. Frankie meets the boy's face, struck by the depth of emotion reflected in those big, expressive eyes.
There's a silent exchange between them - a moment of connection that transcends language and culture, bridging the gap between their worlds with a simple glance.
For a brief moment, time seems to stand still as they lock eyes with each other, their worlds intersecting in this fleeting moment of shared humanity amidst the chaos of the city streets. There's something oddly poignant about the encounter, a silent acknowledgment of the fragility of life, the universality of human experience.
The boy doesn’t know about Frankie and Jude’s life-altering struggles, that they’ve been lost for so long, and yet he smiles at Frankie, offering a mouth full of chipped and wonky teeth.
But as quickly as it begins, the moment passes, the boy gives Frankie a shy smile before revving his engine and disappearing into the throng of vehicles.
His eyes, already weary from months of uncertainty and hardship, begin to sting with unshed tears, and a lump forms in Frankie’s throat as he struggles to contain the overwhelming swell of feeling.
In that brief exchange, something profound has shifted within him - a stirring of empathy and compassion that cuts through the layers of cynicism and weariness that has come to define his existence. It’s as if the innocence and wonder reflected in the boy's eyes has pierced straight through to his soul, awakening a dormant part of himself that he has long believed to be lost.
Blinking back the tears that threaten to spill over, Frankie turns away from the window, unable to shake the weight of the moment.
Jude reaches up and kisses his neck, feeling his beard tickling her cheek.
As the Naval car inches forward once more, carrying them ever closer to safety and sanctuary, Frankie finds himself grappling with a newfound sense of vulnerability, a rawness of emotion that he has long buried beneath layers of bravado and stoicism.
Frankie looks down at Jude nestled against his chest and kisses the top of her head.
The Navy officers escort them into the American Embassy in Cape Town; a large and formidable white building with heavy security and armoured vehicles. The American flag is flapping around in the breeze and Jude looks up at it, feeling a sense of familiarity and deep seated relief to view the stars and stripes waving back at her.
They’re escorted to the consulate main building where a representative for The States meets them and shakes their weary, calloused hands as he regards them over the rim of his thin spectacles carefully.
“Wow, you guys have really been through the ringer, ain’t ya?” He says with a Southern twang, motioning for them to sit and regarding their dishevelled, malnourished appearance with some appal. “I’m Jake. I’ll be assisting ya’ll whilst ya here with us.”
“How long will that be?” Frankie enquires, anxiously. He scratches at the back of his head, his cap still firmly planted on top of his scraggly curls that reach down to his shoulders.
“Hopefully not long at all. Take a seat, make yourselves comfy there.” Jake motions to the chairs again; watching as they sit on the edges tentatively like the chair will swallow them whole.
“What’s going to happen to us now?” Jude asks. “We just wanna go home.” She explains trying to stifle a swamping yawn.
The thought of finally returning home feels like an alien concept. It's a notion that seems both tantalisingly close and impossibly distant, like a dream she's afraid to fully grasp for fear of it slipping away.
“And we’re going to get ya back there for sure, ma’am. We need some details from ya so we can get ya some new passports and check a few things out. Now, I hear you’re ex-military, Sir?” Jake says, addressing Frankie directly.
Frankie nods and slumps back in the chair.
“Well, that works in your favour. We can get ‘em to help escort you guys home, through the back door as it were.”
Frankie smiles through tight lips as Jake clears his throat.
“Back door?” Jude queries, confused.
“Without much of a hubbub. You guys’ll make international news soon enough.”
The thought fills Frankie with a potent mix of anxiety and apprehension, as it does with Jude. The thought of their faces splashed across television screens, of their harrowing ordeal dissected and analysed by strangers, sends a shiver down Frankie's spine.
It's a stark reminder of the scrutiny and judgement that awaits them on the other side of this journey - a world that seems increasingly foreign and hostile with each passing moment.
“What happened to the plane?” Frankie braves. “Do you know why it came down?”
Jake pauses and clasps his hands together on his desk. “Yeah, I remember the story. Was mechanical failure from the storm. The engines failed I think, from what I remember. It was all over the news worldwide, social media and all that kind of stuff. I don’t really understand that Instagram thing myself, but they never found any survivors.” Jake explains.
He pulls out his iPhone, taps onto the screen then hands it to Frankie. It’s a Google search page of all the headlines and images from the crash.
Frankie scrolls through them with an unsteady finger. He stops when he sees a headline with his own face and name listed as one of Flight 816’s missing passengers. An old army photograph of him in his sandy combat gear, eyes squinting in the sun.
Frankie turns the phone screen to Jude and looks back at her with worrisome, dull peepers.
“Shit...” She mutters skimming the article. She hands the phone back to Jake and he puts it on the desk.
“We’re going to put ya guys in a hotel not too far from here, give you some comfort and ya’ll can get some rest. Before that we’re going to get ya checked over with a couple of doctors, make sure you’re healthy, that kinda thing.”
“Can we make some calls?” Jude asks him eagerly.
“Of course ya can. I’ve no doubt ya families will be keen to hear from ya. I imagine it will feel like a miracle to them, huh? To have ya back after all this time?”
Jude gulps as her fingers knot in her lap.
“Listen guys, I can’t imagine what y'all have been through. But we’re going to getcha home, we’re going to help ya as much as we can, okay?”
“Thank you, Jake.” Jude says to him, offering him only a glimmer of a small, worn out smile.
“Ya need anything, ya let me know.” Jake opens a file on his desk.
“A razor would be a great start.” Frankie clarifies.
Jude smiles at him and nods in agreement.
“Y’all will have everything ya need, don’t worry. Alrighty here, let’s start with ya full names, shall we?” Jake picks up a pen. He looks at Frankie and waits for him to answer.
“Catfish,” Jude replies rather deadpan.
“Hmm?” Jake asks, eyebrows raising.
She giggles, almost like a snort that hiccups out of her, and Jake looks at her slightly bemused.
She can’t help but laugh out louder until she can’t stop. Real gut rolling belly laughs that erupt out of her mouth and Frankie joins in too, snickering until eventually he can’t contain it and lets out a loud hawhawhaw that continues to roll out from him, until he clutches his stomach like he’s doubled over in that crazed laughing pain.
Jake observes them both bewildered. “Y’all wanna let me in on the joke?”
They both undergo a medical at the local hospital as soon as they wrap up the formalities with Jake, escorted by a representative from the consulate to translate for them where needed.
A lot of hustle and bustle through their exhausted state, when all they really want to do is to eat, sleep and call their loved ones.
The delay is starting to get to them as they exchange tired and impatient looks between themselves, gripping each other’s hands and squeezing when it starts to get overwhelming.
They’re separated temporarily as they’re examined; a feeling that neither of them want to get used to.
A palpable sense of unease settles over Frankie like a heavy shroud. For the first time in what feels like an eternity, he finds himself separated from the familiar presence of Jude - the one constant in an ever-shifting sea of uncertainty.
Frankie clocks Jude’s furtive, panicked gaze back at him as she’s ushered behind a curtain and feels the pang of anxiety hit her gut too, making her stomach all swirly like the ocean current that has tried - and failed - numerous times to drown them both.
With each passing moment, Frankie finds himself growing increasingly restless, the minutes stretching out into an agonising eternity as he waits anxiously for her return.
The sterile surroundings only serve to amplify his sense of isolation, the stark fluorescent lights casting harsh shadows that dance mockingly across the walls.
Frankie sits on the examination table in another bay as the doctor asks him about his general health and prods gently at his stomach and over his ribs. He listens to his heartbeat and takes a swab from his mouth.
In the other bay, a similar process ensues with a female doctor who takes blood, swabs and asks a barrage of personal questions to Jude.
“What have you been eating on the island? Have you been ill at all whilst there? When was your last period?”
“Period?”
Jude’s mind cast back to the blood trickling down her legs in the sand and the gut wrenching pull in her stomach reminds her of the unexpected loss all over again, like a wave smashing into her.
“Urm... I can’t really remember, maybe seven months or so, maybe less? I’m sorry, it’s all so…” She searches back in her mind against the blank void of time, unsure exactly when it was that she’d had her last one on the island.
It’s not really something you consider at first, bleeding monthly on a deserted island with no sanitation products to hand. But when it’d happened a few weeks or so into first being stranded there, the heavy belly cramps registering deep in her uterus, and discreetly keeping it from Frankie’s awareness, she’d used dark strips she’d torn off a t-shirt and rolled it up inside her panties. It felt like she was living in the dark ages before tampons even existed.
But out in the middle of nowhere Jude had to adapt and she hid the evidence well from him. Or at least if he did know, he was good not to mention it and add to her embarrassment.
But then she realised, that slow unsettling feeling creeping over her shoulders, one day on the shoreline washing out her hair, that she hadn’t had a period for some time after they’d started sleeping together.
Dawning on her then that they’d been pretty reckless, but when you’re in the throes of passion and wrapped up in one another, practicality flies out the window. But the months had worn on and there was no real repercussion from their love making, no signs of a pregnancy. No period, no risk of a baby right?
Evidently she was wrong.
“You’ve lost a lot of weight, it will affect your cycle for a while, but as you gain weight again it should return to normal. If it doesn't, your doctor back home can advise you further.” The doctor says.
“I urm... I-I think I had a miscarriage on the island.” Jude squeaks quietly, unable to look the doctor in the eye like she’s done something shameful.
She lowers her clipboard and touches her shoulder. “I’m so sorry,” she replies gently. ”If that’s the case, I’ll need to examine you, make sure there’s no lingering infection or anything, will that be okay?”
Jude nods and lays back on the gurney as the doctor pulls on some latex gloves.
In the other bay, the doctor places his cold stethoscope all over Frankie’s bony back, asking him to breathe in and out and hold his breath for as long as he can. He asks him about any injuries sustained, anything that worries him currently and how he’s feeling in his general state of mind.
Frankie shrugs. “I’ve been stuck on an island for over a year thinking I would die every day. I’m sure there’s a fuckin' adjustment period for that, right?”
The doctor doesn’t appreciate his sarcasm and doesn’t respond, instead writing out a prescription for vitamins and supplements.
“I had a fever... On the island, not too long ago, and a rash too.” Frankie mutters through a stifled yawn.
“What kind of fever?”
“I’m not sure. I was out for a few days. Hot, vomiting... Delirious, that kind of thing.”
“And the rash, was it all over your body or just concentrated?”
“All over I think. Red and angry."
“Were you bitten by a mosquito at all?” The doctor probes, regarding him.
Frankie shrugs again. “Not that I specifically remember. I was bitten by a lot of things out there.”
“We’ll take some blood, check it for anything that could be lingering in your bloodstream. You could have possibly had Dengue Fever. It's quite common out here with mosquito bites. But easily treatable if you have access to meds, which I appreciate you didn’t, of course... Couple that with your malnutrition and weak state, you’re lucky you didn’t catch anything worse. I’ll prescribe you some meds, make sure it’s all gone. Have you got any allergies? Any medication that you’re sensitive to?”
As Frankie absorbs the doctor's questions, he finds himself torn between conflicting impulses.
On one hand, there's a voice in the back of his mind urging him to speak up - to lay bare the truth about his past addiction and the struggles he's faced in order to ensure he receives the proper care and support he needs.
But alongside that voice, there's another - an insidious whisper of doubt that sows seeds of fear and uncertainty in his heart. What if they judge him? What if they see him not as a survivor, but as a liability - a broken soul in need of fixing?
The thought of laying bare his vulnerabilities to strangers fills him with a profound sense of unease, a fear of being labelled and stigmatised further for the demons he's battled in the past.
In the end, as the doctor's gaze meets his own, Frankie makes a choice - a leap of faith into the unknown. With a deep breath and a steady resolve, he opens his mouth to speak, ready to face whatever consequences may come with the truth.
"I... I have a history of addiction. Drugs. Cocaine."
The admission hangs heavy in the air, casting a palpable tension over the bay as the doctor's expression shifts, registering a mixture of surprise and concern.
Frankie can feel the weight of their scrutiny bearing down on him, but he refuses to look away, steeling himself against the fear that threatens to overwhelm him.
"I've been clean for... for a while now," he continues, the words coming more easily now that he's broken the silence. "But I thought you should know. In case... in case it's relevant to my treatment. I can’t have any meds that have any psychoactive effects.”
There's a beat of silence as the doctor absorbs his words, their gaze searching his face for any sign of deception or evasion. But Frankie meets his searching gaze head-on, his eyes clear and unwavering as he waits for his response.
Finally, the doctor nods, a gesture of acknowledgment tinged with understanding. "Thank you for being honest with me," he says, his voice gentle but firm.
Frankie watches as the doctor strikes through his previous writings on his pad. "Let's take some blood."
Frankie holds out his arm as the doctor pricks it with a needle.
“What happened to your neck?” The doctor asks, turning Frankie’s head gently so he can examine the scars that run across it.
“I was burned when the plane crashed...” Frankie surmises, his thoughts turning dark as he remembers the smell of his skin sizzling in the water.
“Hmm, looks like they’ve healed pretty well. They look like they were partial-thickness or second degree when it happened. Might be best to apply some topical cream to help with the fading. I’ll add it to your prescription.”
The doctor places the blood vial in a testing bag and gives Frankie a cotton ball to hold against the needle poke hole in his arm.
“Overall, I’d say you’re in pretty good shape, considering. The malnourishment is reversible, you need to simply eat. Foods that are rich in vitamins and high in energy, fortified foods and vegetables, that kind of thing. In moderation of course. I can’t stress this enough, but if you gorge you’ll make yourself really sick. Your stomach has shrunk significantly, so although you may feel famished, you need to fill up really slowly, okay?”
Frankie nods. “Sure.”
“Refeeding syndrome can be fatal, alright?” The doctor warns and Frankie is nodding so much it feels like his head might fall off his shoulders.
"Eat small and slow. Got it."
“I’d advise you to visit your dentist, your optometrist, and follow up with your own doctor too when back home. Check on your overall health with them regularly until things get back to normal with your body. Keep an eye on any changes to your skin too; you’ve been exposed to the sun for a long time without a barrier, so check on any moles or freckles you have regularly for any changes. They all look okay to me at the moment.”
“No problem.” Frankie replies; his foot tapping on the floor anxiously.
With a heavy sigh, Frankie clenches his fists in frustration, a surge of restless energy coursing through his veins. Every instinct screams at him to find a way back to Jude, to break free from the confines and monotony of the examination bay and seek out the one person who has become his lifeline in this tumultuous world.
In the other bay, Jude winces as the doctor takes an internal swab and bites down on her lip.
“You can sit up now.” The doctor says with a sincere smile. “On first inspection you look completely fine down there, but I’ll send this to the lab and we’ll know for sure. I can write you a prescription for some contraceptives if you’d like, it might help with regulating your periods during the transition back to your normal cycle. In the meantime, rest. Take it easy. You’ve been through a lot.”
The moment she says it, Jude starts to well up. The natural reaction you have when anyone shows you any kindness or sympathy at your plight.
The doctor hands her a box of tissues and she takes a few out, wiping her gritty eyes.
“It might be a good idea to seek some therapy, talk to someone about your ordeal. You’ll find your emotions will be up and down for a long time and that’s perfectly normal.”
Jude nods at the doctor blowing her nose. Emotions being up and down is a fucking understatement.
“Thank you,” she says to the doctor, and she’s all too eager to get out of the bay and be back with Frankie.
“How did it go?” Jude asks him through red eyes, and he pulls her in for a long, tight hug.
“Horrible.” Frankie replies stoically.
“Really?”
“Yeah. Absolute agony being away from you.” He says softly.
“It was.” Jude agrees.
“You ever heard of refeeding syndrome?”
“No.”
“We gotta eat real slow, even though I wanna devour a fuckin’ whole cow right now.”
Jude snickers.
“Did they take your blood?” Frankie asks.
Jude nods. “Pesky vampires,” she remarks through a smirk up at him.
"C'mon. Let's get out of here. I fuckin' hate hospitals." He says.
The hotel room isn’t that fancy.
Nothing over the top; conspicuous and modest, but more than anything it’s clean and smells fresh with a lemony scent lingering in the air around their nostrils.
The air conditioner is whirring out from under the window and the net curtains billow softly in the recycled air flow.
They wander into the small room and look around like they’ve just hit the jackpot.
There’s a double bed with clean, crisp sheets. Actual pillows and a night stand with a gloaming lamp. There’s a small flat screen mounted to the wall on the opposite side; an armchair and a closet with empty hangers.
Large windows offer a glimpse of the city skyline twinkling in the dark, a reminder of the world beyond their temporary sanctuary.
It's a moment they've both been longing for, a brief respite from the chaos and uncertainty that has consumed their lives all day.
For Frankie, the sight of the hotel room is a balm to his weary soul - a tangible reminder that they have finally reached safety after so many harrowing experiences.
He takes a moment to savour the simple pleasures of a comfortable bed and a hot shower, luxuries that he’s sorely missed during their time stuck on the island.
They both simultaneously breathe in and out and turn to smile at one another in that ambient relief.
Frankie puts down the carrier bag he’s holding, full of clean clothes that the embassy has provided, medicines and some personal items, such as coveted toiletries.
Jude is holding a similar bag for herself and has a key card for the room next door.
Frankie wanders over to the bathroom and there’s a large walk-in shower, sink and toilet with clean towels, mini soaps and a large mirror mounted on the wall above the sink and brightly illuminated.
He steps inside gingerly and regards himself in the mirror, just looking at the worn face staring back at him that he no longer recognises.
Taking off his trusty cap that reeks of the sea and sweat, his hair is wild and untamed, shaggy below his ears and curling into his shoulders.
His once patchy beard is full and busy with wiry hairs that seem more silver in some places. It's been over a year since he last saw his own reflection, and the sight before him is both jarring and surreal.
His usually plump lips are cracked with dryness and a faded purple rather than the heart coloured cerise they usually are naturally. His dark eyes, that have seen and been through so much, are now dull and faded when they used to be full of vibrant zing.
It’s possible, he thinks, that he’s aged significantly beyond his years. He most definitely has, deep inside of him somewhere.
Frankie regards his shrunken appearance, his collarbone so prominent as he removes his Naval sweater. His ribcage is explicitly noticeable and he winces at the state of his aching and tired body presented back to him.
“Shit...” Frankie sighs despondently.
Jude appears at the doorway, watching him regard himself as he runs his fingers through his beard and hair, examining every aspect of his gaunt appearance in the ghastly mirror.
She ventures into the bathroom next to him and dares herself to look at her own reflection, keeping her eyes to the floor like she’s avoiding a monster tailing her, until she feels Frankie put his hands on her shoulders behind her, anchoring her.
There’s nothing of her, the once supple curves of her body are now straight, flat lines with no definition or skin that glows with health and vitality.
Despite being tanned from months of relentless sun burn, her skin appears dull and lifeless. Hey eyes are sunken into the sockets of her skull and the bags under them just confirm wholly how tired she absolutely feels.
Her braid is hellishly tangled; her hair lifeless and no longer has the sleek bounce she remembers, filled with split ends.
“Oh my God,” she whimpers, utterly aghast at the state of herself.
“You’re still beautiful to me,” Frankie whispers, resting his chin on her shoulder and wrapping his arms around her stomach. “Todavía tan jodidamente hermosa.” (Still so fucking beautiful.)
They look at one another in the mirror, trying to accept the alien looking strangers who are staring back at them with horrified reflections.
“I’ll let you get washed up,” Jude begins, devastated as she heads towards the door, but he pulls her back by her wrist gently.
“Don’t you fuckin’ dare, hermosa,” he says softly and pulls her in close to him.
Frankie kisses her, tilting her chin up and she stands on tip toes as he pulls her close. She giggles and wriggles away from his face as his beard tickles her lips.
“Yeah, we really need to cut this,” Jude says, fingering through his crispy beard.
Frankie steps away out of the bathroom for a few moments and brings the bag back in with him. He empties the contents of the toiletries onto the sink and finds some scissors and a razor, and holds them out to her.
“Will you make me the happiest man in the world and shave this fuckin’ thing off my face?” He asks her through a wry grin.
“I thought you’d never ask,” she chuckles.
Jude cuts large chunks of hair from his beard carefully, keeping as close to his skin as possible as he perches on the toilet with the seat down.
Opening his legs so she can stand in between, his hands sweep over her backside and squeeze occasionally.
"This is very distracting," she hums as he kneads and squeezes her flesh.
"I know," he surmises with a grin.
Once she’s cut enough off, she wets his face and covers his chin and neck in shaving foam and begins running the razor over his face gently.
“There you are,” Jude marvels as his taught skin is finally revealed from under the hair.
The same face she remembers from when he first appeared on the island, staggering up the sand bank towards her with wide, panicked eyes. “You want it all gone?”
He nods. “It’ll grow back soon enough.”
Frankie pulls down her sweats as she steps out of them and sits on his knee.
“How you holding up?” He asks as he feels the scrap of the blade over his skin.
Blinking, Jude nods. “I keep waiting for it to feel real.”
“Yeah.” He nods.
“This has to be a dream.” She sounds like she’s far away. “But… I’m not waking up.”
Frankie takes her hand and presses it against her chest. She can feel the steady throb of his heart under her finger tips.
“It’s real.” He confirms. "We're here."
Jude smooths away the remaining foam with her fingers when she’s done, revealing a smooth and pallid jaw line against the dark tan of his face, and he lunges forward and kisses her deeply.
Frankie stands up as she wraps her legs around his waist and he steps into the shower with her, peeling her out of her remaining clothes as they’re saturated under the warming stream.
The hot water feels incredible and they both gasp out in satisfaction as the jet sprays them down, laughing in relief and wonderment at such a simple thing as hot water after all this time of bathing in the murky sea.
“Oh my God!” Jude calls out, closing her eyes, feeling the heat on her skin, and Frankie throws his head back, letting the water drown him and soak his shaggy hair.
He shakes it about like a dog and she laughs as he chuckles, kissing her again.
He reaches for some shower gel and sniffs it in his hands before offering his palms out to her to smell it in return. It smells of herbs and bergamot; woody scents like the forest and the notes dance inside her nostrils long after it’s absorbed into her skin.
He runs his soapy hands all over her body, taking his time to clean and massage her, working the nodules at the back of her neck, swooping his hands under her arms to run them down her back and grab her ass with them, making her smile and groan out.
Frankie reaches for the razor and crouches down, tapping his thigh as she puts her foot on it.
Jude watches as he shaves away the hair from her legs gently, looking up at her with a smile pinched between his teeth as the water sprays against his back. He’s tender, running his hand over her freshly smooth skin and admiring her when he's done.
"So fuckin' beautiful," he says in wonder.
Jude reaches for his hair, scratching around the back of his neck fondly with the shampoo as he kisses just above her wet belly button.
On his knees, he hooks her leg over his shoulder and instantly licks up the seam of her pussy.
“Frankie!” She cries out, steadying herself against the tiles as her legs buckle unexpectedly.
“I got you,” he says, smirking up at her, his hands firmly holding her backside and thighs and keeping her upright.
She watches as his tongue slides against her, slipping into her folds and seeking out her clit. She groans when he latches onto it, sucking it between his lips as his hands slide around the front of her thighs and he pries her open with adept, soapy fingers.
Jude reaches down, gripping onto his shoulder, cradling his head closer as Frankie laps at her pussy like a man completely starved.
The water trickles down her stomach into his mouth from the stream above them. With each breath, Jude feels the tension building within her, coiling tightly like a spring ready to snap.
It's a sensation that courses through her veins, igniting a fire within her core that threatens to consume her. She can feel her heart racing, a steady drumbeat of anticipation that echoes in her ears as Frankie hums out in satisfaction, his skilled tongue rubbing around her clit deliciously.
“Yes, don’t stop…” Jude whines, tugging on his soaked hair, spirals of dark curls knotting around her knuckles.
He growls with the tension on his scalp, his fingers sliding up inside her as he laps at the succulent slit leaking sweetly onto his tongue as she builds.
And then, suddenly, it happens - a release of pent-up energy that surges through her with breathtaking intensity.
It's as if a dam has burst, flooding her senses with a rush of raw, dizzy emotion that leaves her trembling in its wake.
“Fuck! Frankie!” She cries out, tears welling behind her eyes.
As she closes her eyes and leans back against the cool tiles, she can feel the tension melting away from her body, replaced by a deep and abiding sense of relaxation.
It's as though every muscle in her body has finally surrendered to the gentle rhythm of the moment, a moment where it's her and Frankie and they’re safe and warm and loving on one another, allowing her to sink deeper into the embrace of tranquillity.
He stands up and kisses her with an intensity that makes her unsteady on her feet. She can taste herself on his lips and sucks at them with a feverish want.
“Jude,” he whines, closing his eyes as he feels her reach for his cock, hard and aching for her.
Frankie bites down on his lip as he watches her massaging it around the suds, squelching it through her fingers.
He breathes out against her pores as she pumps him slowly. She feels his fingers grip tighter around her ass cheeks.
“I’ll never get enough of you,” Frankie husks. “Ever.”
She smiles and kisses him, working his swelling cock inside of her grip.
“I need you.” Jude moans, pulling him tighter to her.
He picks her up and pushes her against the tiles as she wraps her legs around him, crying out as he sinks his cock inside of her.
He gasps out loudly as he connects with her again, sliding in and out slowly as she kisses his shoulder, his neck over the rippled burn scars, lips searching for his again, finding her home within him.
Home.
A word that has been tossed around so much today, carelessly that it loses all pronunciation on the tongue. A word that has felt so out of reach for so long.
Home, a place that used to exist in another world but now only exists right here, in this moment.
Home isn’t a place anymore. They have no homes to go to, not really. It isn’t the safety of bricks and mortar, and sturdy foundations rooted in the ground. It’s not an apartment full of useless bric-or-brac. Four walls and a roof that occasionally leaks.
No, home is Frankie. Here in his arms. Home is Jude. Here in her arms.
Their fingers intertwine and their gazes lock in a panting exchange. Frankie feels something shift within him.
It's as if a veil has been lifted, revealing a truth that has always been there, hidden in the depths of his heart. He looks at Jude, really looks at her, and sees not just the person that has been beside him, fighting with him all this time, but the very essence of home itself.
In her eyes, he finds a warmth that seeps into his bones, melting away the coldness that has plagued him for so long. In her smile, he finds a comfort that soothes his weary soul, reassuring him that everything will be okay.
“I love you, Frankie,” she gasps, tears in her eyes. “God, you feel amazing.” Jude whispers as he pants in her face, the hot mists from the shower steaming and swirling around them like gossamer ghosts bearing witness to their devout hunger.
“I love you… fuck! Jude, oh fuck, Jude!” Frankie grunts, as he fucks harder and deeper against the tiles of the shower before exploding deep inside of her with a loud, breathy groan as he gives her everything he has.
Finally, they’re home.
To be continued...
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3️⃣
History only makes sense in retrospect.
Take, for example, the decade-long period of the French Revolution, or the decades between World War I and World War II. A decade is like a blip to the casual historian, a mere moment, so short it was nearly one-dimensional, like a line separating the before from the after. Those who lived through it, however, must have spent years wondering each morning whether their current government and/or life would still exist by lunchtime, and even when the dust finally settles, that’s not really a feeling that one can easily forget. People can only draw neat, dispassionate little lines around such events when they no longer live in its shadow, and the shadow of the Polycrisis still loomed menacingly over the American League.
There were some who were eager to move on, who would say that progress is always disruptive - the old must be dismantled to make way for the new. Others would say that it was one thing to have a controlled demolition, and an entirely separate thing to wake up one day to find that your electricity and plumbing were no longer working, and the government was not going to help you because its existence was tenuous at best, and all of the sub-contracted third-party subsidiaries who actually did the work of repairing power grids refused to take responsibility with your piddly little suburb because they were too busy trying to keep the lights on in places that ‘actually mattered.’
The causes of the Polycrisis were many and varied, hence the name, but a certain pattern had emerged in retrospect - climate change caused natural disasters, natural disasters destroyed infrastructure, destroyed infrastructure caused economic collapse, economic collapse caused political collapse. Casual historians might note how that pattern echoed the fall of most empires going back to the fall of Rome. But it was never supposed to happen to America. The blessed antipodes were not supposed to be like everywhere else. They were supposed to be where the lights always stayed on. Always.
Well, sometimes.
As the US federal government shrank, retreated, and finally collapsed, new states sprang up soon after. New England, Tidewater, and the Free Imperial New York drew their lines along the east coast; Cascadia created itself and formed a personal union with the Californian Commonwealth on the west coast after the Jefferson Rebellion was put down; and the Texaplex Megapole asserted its authority over Texas and neighboring states promising protection against Norteño incursions. The Great Lakes Republic formed shortly and reluctantly afterwards, becoming a sprawling Germany-esque collection of mid-sized cities jockeying against one another.
The rest of America, its vast and abandoned plains, its hollowed-out mountains and sinking coasts, became ‘the manors,’ places where power had devolved down to the newest class of rural gentry: fast food franchisees, car dealerships, beverage distributors, and the like. They were small-business tyrants and petite-bourgeoise corporate middlemen who had spent their lives wishing for the government to hurry up and collapse already so that they could live out their fantasies of being petty kings, bandit chiefs, and lords of the manor (hence the name). They would not give up their fantasies without a bitter and bloody fight.
Also, Orlando had become the microstate of Disneystadt, the Founderist equivalent of Vatican City.
Also, the western side of Appalachia was now a khaganate.
Perhaps one day people would see it as something like the French Revolution or interwar period, as a goofy but brief period of liminal turmoil wedged between two separate worlds. Here is how some of her contemporaries saw it:
“They elected fucking Spongebob president,” said Cornelius Mammon, the pale and wraithlike governor of New England, seated at one end of a long semicircular table, lined with chairs along its curve, all facing a gigantic wall-mounted screen on the far end of the room. ‘Old money’ seemed inadequate to describe the austere and sunken appearance of Cornelius; he was more like undead money.
On the one hand, New England was populous, urbanized, relatively geographically sensible, united by a distinct and storied culture, and had been poised to shrug off the Polycrisis and carry on as normal. On the other hand, Boston and Philadelphia.
“Here I thought things were going to get back to normal,” Cornelius continued hoarily, “and now she’s going to rename the White House to ‘the Fun Zone.’ This is why democracy was a mistake.”
“Normal?” Young Oldman, governor of the Tidewater region, scoffed. He had a calculated plain appearance, revealing little about himself. Even his skin was a beige ‘off-white’ color that made people guess whether he was biracial or Middle Eastern or just a white guy with a tan. Ruling over the former head of the imperial American government and its intelligence apparatus, Young had learned to play it so close to the vest you’d need a seam ripper to get any answers out of him. He always kept his mouth shut.
Well, sometimes.
“Would that Sunny were some unwelcome intrusion of oddness into an otherwise august body. Have you seen the other nut bars we’ve been packed in here with?” Young jabbed a thumb at his neighbor, Vinny Vidivici, mayor of Free Imperial New York, who looked like a clogged shower drain that had gained sentience and put on a suit.
“You folks ever been to New York? We exchange money for goods and services there. Greatest fuckin city in the world baby,” Vinny said.
Young nodded and silently daydreamed about hunting him for sport.
“Personally, I think Sunny is just some GLN cabalist with a voice modulator,” said Johann van Gekkehuis, the pasty, gravelly-voiced, flannel-wearing governor of the Great Lakes Republic, with a bushy copper beard and a receding hairline, “have you ever seen her and Harold in the same room?”
“Yes,” said Young. Just because he played it close to the vest didn’t mean he couldn’t mess with people, and Johann was easy to mess with.
Johann had made his bones as a podcaster and had a natural talent for disguising all manner of conspiracy theories and ostensibly playful bigotry as good old-fashioned hard-nosed socialism. But being a conspiracy theorist wasn’t fun anymore. There was no point. The globalist puppet-masters didn’t hide in shadowy backrooms. They had HR departments, they had newsletters, they sent spam emails demonstrating the ways they controlled and surveilled every moment of your life, and that was so much more demoralizing than keeping it secret.
Behind Johann paced a meticulously handsome black man in a crisp navy blue suit, his eyes hidden behind a large pair of shades. He nodded to himself as he walked and talked into his headset. He was Michael McCoy, governor of the Piedmont region. Piedmont, encompassing the eastern half of Georgia and the Carolinas, was one of the newer states, and its constituents had carried the extra burden of rebuilding and reorienting themselves after the race war. They finished what the Northerners had started and then abandoned, two hundred years ago almost exactly, Northerners who decided they would let millions of black people linger as third-class citizens rather than hang even a few openly seditious gentlemen. But not Michael McCoy. Enough with being respectable, enough with being nonviolent, enough with taking the high road. Michael McCoy wanted blood.
That was a lie - Michael McCoy was an agricultural manager who rose to prominence shortly after the bloodshed had ended thanks to a series of excellent ad campaigns and his public image as a squeaky-clean family man. He simply enjoyed a victory lap as much as the next guy. And maybe wanted a little blood.
“Listen,” Michael said into his headpiece, “I’m not saying we need the change to be permanent. I just want it to be called ‘N[redacted]land’ for like a couple hours, then it can go back to being Piedmont. We don’t even have to tell anyone else about it.”
(Certain words have been redacted in the interest of not saying them. If you wish to see racial slurs, they can be unlocked by submitting proof of relevant ancestry to your local department of reclamation).
He listened through his earpiece, then scowled. “Why? I’ll tell you why - because then Sunny would have to say it on camera, and that would be fucking hilarious. See? You laughed, you get it. You want to know what would happen. It’s - listen, just - yeah - no - if - alright, alright, fine,” he sighed, “no name change. It’s staying as Piedmont. Y’all pussies.”
The atmosphere of general grumbling was interrupted by a choir of air horns blaring the opening bars to the Star Spangled Banner. The massive screen at the far end of the room turned itself on, revealing a towering Sunny Roosevelt with a long red dress and a thin, fuming smile.
“Hi! Wow. I heard all of that,” she said.
Michael McCoy took off his headset and looked up. “Miss Roosevelt, I have an urgent request-“
“No. Let’s get a few things straight here-” Sunny began.
“No, let’s you get something straight,” Cornelius fumed, jabbing a bony finger at her and half-standing up, “you have no power over us. You’re a fucking mascot, and we are the directors of-”
“Michael, slap him,” Sunny said.
Michael turned, grinned, and dutifully slapped Cornelius across the face in one smooth unhesitating motion. Cornelius was stunned into silence, looking between the two of them, not sure who to fume at. Young bit back a smile. Sunny pounced on the momentary silence.
“Okay, thing one - people actually like mascots. They do not like a bunch of rich old ghouls who are three minutes away from eating each other alive. Thing two - I’m so much more than a mascot. I’m a widely-beloved celebrity with millions of psycho-sexually obsessed followers hanging on my every word. So, what do you think that means for the next person who pisses me off?”
Nobody said a word, but as they pondered the threat of a weaponized legion of John Hinckleys, there was the sound of several sphincters involuntarily clenching (for the curious, it sounded a little like jumping on a rubber mat).
“That’s what I thought. You see this?” Sunny pointed at her own face, “this is Angry Sunny. You get Angry Sunny because you weren’t niceys to me. If you are niceys to me, you get Happy Sunny, and you want Happy Sunny. Happy Sunny will get you re-elected. Angry Sunny will kill you. Am I understood?”
There was a nervous, shifting silence as the east coast branch of Neo-Congress began to digest their new situation, except for Michael, who was hoping he would get to slap someone again.
“Am I understood?” she barked.
There were guilty, mumbled agreements. That would have to do for now. Sunny snapped her fingers. Her red dress became shorter and frillier. A blue collar lined with white stars appeared on her shoulders. Even the lines of her face became softer and more youthful. Happy Sunny clasped her hands together and smiled radiantly.
“That’s great! I’m so glad we got that little whoopsie-doodle figured out, and I’m sure it won’t happen again. I’m looking forward to working with all of you towards our common goal of making America… well, extant again.”
#manorpunk#heaven is falling#I am making myself post this instead of continuing to fiddle with it n more days#I have a doc now where I keep all the mini-scenes I trimmed and it is GROWING
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professional help, c7. Beware of the dog.
simon riley x original character.
trigger warnings: violence, sexual assault, mentions of rape, trauma, sexual themes, swearing, use of alcohol and drugs, EDs and death.
song to listen to when reading this: Dark red, Steve Lacy.
abstract: Simon. I don't fucking know what to say about this chapter, I was moving in autopilot. and I'm just being a decent fucking human being, what do you expect me to say really? just start reading already.
She took a look around. The men in the room were looking at her like she was gonna spontaneously combust and explode. Some of them had their lips pressed in a thin line. I'm sorry Jude, this is the part fo the movie where you die! Simon on her right was frowning, his eyebrows slightly peering through his mask. She started imagining if she just left right now. Took her dog, got to the airport and moved to Spain. The Maldives, maybe. She started a new life as a new person once at 18, she could do it again now seven years later. Or maybe she just needed to go home, smoke every little bit of weed she had left, curl up in bed and die. She started laughing. She had always thought her laugh was the most awful sound in the word. She started laughing, she looked psychotic. She hid her smile with her right hand through her head back. Her voice was the only sound in the room, ripping apart the air. It was a terrifying sight. Fuck me sideways. How could she be so stupid to get back to that job in the first place, after what happened in 2021. 'Oh God…' she sighed when she regained a little bit of control over her laughter which still lingered in the air like a distorted melody. She was still smiling. The first time he saw her smile, laugh even. It sounded real, she sounded genuinely delighted.
Simon decided he wanted nothing to do with her right in that moment. She scared him to death, who knew a woman could be this attractive and scary at the same time. Price seemed to think showing her the calendar wasn't a good idea after all and quickly took the piece of paper and pushed it to the side. 'Look Jude, we're gonna escort you home, it's gonna be fine, we're going to continue to look for him until we have to leave.' He was trying to calm her down and, frankly, she looked perfectly fine. She looked like she was at a dinner party with her favourite friends, a glass of Champaign in her hand, her eyes shining with little tears of joy from laughing too much. Except, she laughed because she was scared. 'I've seen this film before, captain', she said, her words sounded venomous. Her eyes were dark, filled with sorrow and regret. Something like this happened before, and the captain knew.
'No, I'm telling you, it will be fine.' Price was trying to convince her. 'Gentlemen, we have an early flight tomorrow, we're going to keep looking for Arash until we find something and we'll brief again at nine, tonight. If they know we're coming, things might get ugly.' Jude was no where to be found. Well, she was still in the room, but her smile left space to an expression of defeat, like she had accepted her fate. Her eyes didn't look as bright, she kept wiping the palm of her hands on her thighs. Simon had noticed. His eyes locked with the captain's and they understood each other. Take her away, this was the sign. He quickly turned towards her, slouching downwards to speak closer to her. 'Let's go Jude', he instructed. She didn't look up at him, keeping her eyes low, but made her way to the door. He was walking beside her matching her speed. 'Take your car, I'll follow you' he said, and she still didn't answer.
'Jude' he called and finally she looked at him 'What!?' She raised her voice. She was mad again. Like the first time he saw her, fists curled with rage, on the verge of tears. He tried to keep his voice as gentle as he could. 'It's alright, everything's going to be fine', he tried to talk to her like he would do in an hostage rescue situation. 'I'll get you home. I know how to do my job', he reassured. He thought knowing he knew what to do might make her feel better. She nodded and quickly walked to her car. He followed her car all the way to the city, trying not to lose her in traffic. She parked in a busy residential street and he quickly followed. When she got out she looked for him, and waited for him to get out of the truck. She trusted him. Not because he was someone special, but from what she'd gathered he was someone Price trusted, he was probably good at his job. And he seemed kind.
'This way' she said, making her way to her apartment. She gave him her keys, he made his way to the door and got his gun out of the holster. He then noticed the little sign on the side of the door. 'Beware of the dog'. 'You scared of dogs?' she asked quietly, appearing on his side like the angel on his shoulder. Under his shoulder, let's say. Now, was he afraid of dogs, no. Did he have the best relationship ever with animals? Focus, you have a job to do, kill the dragon, save the princess. 'Stay back'. He opened the door and peered through with his gun drawn. The only sound that came from inside was a loud bark and paws on the floor. The puppy greeted him by sniffing his feet, his tail was wiggling. Not much of a guard dog, was it a German Shepard? The lights were out in the apartment, Jude made her way inside and flicked them on. She looked around and everything seemed as she left it. 'Ciao, si ciao' she spoke to the dog, who was clearly excited to see her, whining and stomping his paws. Simon tried to remember the words she said, so he could guess her native language. Spanish?
He looked around her living room and kitchen. Her house resembled her personality. There were books scattered on the coffee table, at least 5 of them, an empty mug as well. Books and papers on the sofa as well, maybe she was studying something? Black big reading glasses, with huge lenses. There were posters on the walls, art he didn't recognise. Nothing much on the shelves, minimal decor. A tall lamp in the corner of the room. He noticed a polaroid picture with someone with short hair. So you do have a boyfriend… Her kitchen was clean. It was a nice kitchen, she didn't have a table but two stools under a kitchen isle which probably served as a counter too. It was connected to the wall. Again, folders and scattered papers, maybe work. The dog bed on the floor. A lot of plants, he didn't think they were fake. An ashtray next to the window. Smoker? 'Can I check the other rooms?' he asked. To be respectful, you know. She nodded and he made his way to her bedroom. The door was closed. He glanced around the room, he checked the toilet as well. The bed wasn't made. She had light blue bedding. The room smelled like her, like lavender. She had a stuffed animal on the bed, a sheep. She had fuzzy slippers, probably a size 5. On the wall, more posters. He noticed a painting of a scary dog's fangs. Books on the nightstand, books on the wooden window sill. He saw a bra hanging from a chair and that was his cue to leave. In the toilet, one single toothbrush. So… no boyfriend?
'All clear'. She was standing beside the door, her dog at her feet was licking her hand while she petted him lazily. 'Thanks' she offered him a smile, a tiny one. She looked more relaxed. They stood looking at each other for a few seconds. Until he couldn't hold it in any longer. 'What happened last year?' He saw her expression darken, her shoulders tense. Who do you think you are to ask like that? She straightened her back and let go of the dog. He remained at her feet, wanting attention. 'You should learn to mind your business.' She made her way to the kitchen. She passed by him and didn't make eye contact. 'You should have some respect when you talk to people’ he answered. He didn't have time for this. He was fucking stupid to think he could speak with her, actually acting like a 10 year old. The dog came closer to him and sniffed his shoes. 'You know where the door is.' She turned around and faced the sink. He could feel a switch in her voice, in her attitude. It was Jude and then Her, her real self, whoever she was. It was two different people. The girl saw kindly smiling at Gaz in the car wasn't the same girl that barged in their briefing room demanding they listen to her. Or maybe it was, maybe that was Jude, and the scared, damaged little thing that he took home a year prior was Her. He didn't know who. Jude was Ghost and She was Simon. Something very bad had happened back then. Maybe it just wasn't meant to be, he wasn't meant to know, no matter how much he tried. She raised a wall in between them. She made the weather right outside the apartment turn to when it's about to rain. Thunderstorms and lighting kind of rain. And it was probably better this way. He turned around without saying a word, only careful not to let the dog out.
She started breathing again when he left. Her mouth was dry, she was sweating. She called the dog and gave him food. She lit a cigarette and sat by the window. She called in the dance school, saying she had a fever. This way, she could stay inside all weekend. It took her forty minuted to stop shaking. Images from that day replayed in her mind at least once every three days now. She had gotten better, but that thingh wasn't really something you recover from. She sometimes woke up in the middle of the night sweating and crying, feeling the blade of the knife on her skin. She had dreams she had died. She wished she never woke up for a long time. She had dreams about the way he touched her. The first five months after it happened she would bite her nails till the cuticles bled and not shower for days. Her own hands on her skin felt like his. The first time she talked to another human being was when she visited Salvo in San Francisco. She looked like a corpse. He was speechless and hated her for letting herself go like this. It wasn't just the eating and over exercise, which he knew were her preferred coping mechanisms. She had lost interest in living, in speaking, in watching movies, reading. Her career… He held her every night, they slept intertwined in his room, he was the first man that actually showed her respect. He was the first man she touched after that day, she hugged him and rested her head on his chest while he reminded her she was loved, she was important to him, she was alive. He would caress her hair when she woke up sweating and was patient with her when she wouldn't eat. This time was different, she was going to be fine. Even if Salvo wasn't there. Arash would not find her, the memories from last year would leave her alone. She would make it once again.
notes. translation: 'Ciao, si, ciao.' means 'hi, yes, hi.'
notes: Salvatore, i want a friend like you, KING. I am back, I'm sorry for the delay I got surgery done to my teeth??? Anyways, enjoy!!!
taglist:
@ummmmmwat @ghostlythots @sweetfemmefatal @natxpat @chavarriakeren647 @ravenmoore14 @farther-than-pleiades @internallyscreamings @hwromi @atoxicrat @cuti3maddi3 @deafeningkittenblaze @its-celeste @serene-hills @lexidoll12 @poohkie90 @lunatiquess
@warmedbythebody @katzykat @iristhemuse @azkza @keiraslayz @abbyandermine @jennyjencakes @dest-nai @corset-briefs @nutze-kekse @ilytsukiw @b3anspr0ut
@pondsblog @missyouzoe @fallenkitten @bigauthorrascalturkey @bethtay @angelynn-nicole @starluv @stargirlisworld @giyuuslittleslut @impossiblecupcakelight
@rkrivees-blog @ghosts-hoe @kam1snotverysmart @gauky76 @freyjaaasstuff @spicyspicyliving @scottpilgrimvsmyfists @courtney0-0 @shinchanboi @darling006 @my-therapist-hates-me
#cod mw2#ghost cod#simon ghost riley#cod x reader#ghost fanfiction#call of duty#simon ghost x reader#cod fic#cod modern warfare#ghost headcanons#simon riley fluff#simon riley fanfic#simon riley#ghost mw2#ghost call of duty#ghost riley#simon ghost smut#simon ghost fluff#simon riley call of duty#mw2 ghost#call of duty x reader#141 headcanons#task force 141#tf 141#cod 141#cod#john soap mactavish#captain john price#captain price#modern warefare 2 x reader
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Absolution
Azriel x Reader(N)
Summary: Two lovers separated out of necessity finally reunite, only for a brief tryst.
A/N: This is an experimental piece of work. I'm testing a writing style, so feedback is welcome. It's an extended universe for a plot I was working with details tbd but doesn't involve much plot here. So it should be an easy read. This is my first ever Tumblr publish and it's scary!! So be kind. Hope you enjoy!
Word count: ~4.5k
Warning: NSFW, 18+ SMUT, f!receiving, m!receiving(barely), sappy start+spicy middle+angsty end (i guess), voice kink, p in v. Mentions of OC other than reader[not enough editing/proofreading/formatting]
Azriel stepped into the room desperately holding on to the moment, afraid Crone Mother would change her mind. N sat on the balcony—like every evening, on the floor, her legs crossed, her hands clasped in her lap. The curtains came alive with the touch of a gentle breeze to guard her from him. Her sheer dress melded with her body under the radiance of the fading sun, her skin aglow as if made of stars and gold. Summer flowers adorned her hair, tucked into the braid that unravelled after the day’s practices.
His shadows peeked over his shoulders and swarmed his hands buzzing with excitement. With each silent step, he prayed he didn’t break her trance. He settled before her—bringing his knees to his chest, he rested his elbows on them, and his wings tucked tight to his body.
The hue of the setting sun made everything heavenly about her—soft, ethereal. Wisps of hair teasing her cheeks, the knowing smile on her lips, the slight flutter of her eyelids under his stare. A sigh escaped Azriel’s lips. It was a worthless attempt to hide his presence from her, the one who held the sight.
Azriel wasn’t a fool to waste the mercy bestowed upon him after months of longing to be close to his beloved. He stretched on the floor, his head finding its rightful place in her lap, and wrapped his arms around her waist. Her scent and warmth made their bond burn brighter and he sighed in contentment.
After long minutes, N rested her palm on his head. Her fingers carded through his hair, and her nails scratched his scalp the way he liked. A thumb teased the shell of his ear and his wings responded with a sudden tremor.
Azriel smiled. He buried his face into her thigh. Air shifted around them as her body answered to his touches and breaths. Despite the need clawing in his chest, he chose to wait a few minutes, to savour the comfort of her simple touch.
N broke the silence. ‘How was your day?’ Her voice was as sweet as ever.
‘Long. Excruciatingly long,’ sighed Azriel. ‘I started with your friends from the armoury today. Until your mother sent me to the gardens.’ He remembered the smile on the older woman’s face when she took him away from the others. A secretive, mischievous one. ‘She enjoys testing me a bit much. She made me tend to your roses.’
N laughed, the sound sending a shiver through him. ‘That must have been a vision. Maybe she’s exacting revenge for how you treated her back home.’
Azriel’s heart thudded in his chest. Home. No matter what Crone Mother said, N had one home. It was with him, in Night Court. ‘I think she’s forgotten all that. She’s more interested in stealing you from me.’ His arms tightened around her and his shadows whirled around them emphasising their master’s possessiveness, ‘But I don’t mind. As long as she lets me be with you for a while.’ His lips twitched. ‘Did you know everyone here addresses me as your mate?’
Another laugh broke through her lips, ‘They're not wrong.’
‘No, they are not.’ Azriel finally looked up. Her eyes were already on his face. ‘I’ve been called many names over centuries. Shadowsinger. Spymaster. But this one,’ he leaned up to her face, ‘I like the most. To be known as yours before they even know my name.’ He got to his knees and trailed a knuckle along her jaw. ‘I’d like that for the rest of my life.’ Their bond strummed a tune so loud that rendered him senseless. ‘I want to have a life with you. A home, a family. Anything you want, any way you want. As long as you want that too.’
‘You mean that.’ N stated as if she needed to reassure herself. She stared at him with a mask of impassivity on her face that almost rivalled his own as a spy. Then, she smiled. ‘But I’ll have you know there will be more tests from Crone Mother.’
'I’ll suffer anything for you,’ he murmured against her lips. ‘So that’s a yes?’ N nodded before her eyes sparkled with mirth. ‘What is it?’ His senses warned him, his shadows stood alert on his shoulders.
‘Well, technically, we’re married.’
Silence fell between them. Azriel’s fingers left her skin.
‘What?’
N shrugged. ‘Do you remember the first time we duelled?’ Her voice was steady but her hesitance broke through at the sight of the male who sat frozen in front of her. ‘You made me bleed. You proved you were my equal. And, it all happened after the bond snapped for you.’
Azriel remembered that day. He had wanted to impress her. It was the day he felt the warmth of her breath on him for the first time. For days and nights to come, he relived those moments until his skin prickled with heat.
N’s unsure laughter died soon when he didn’t even blink. His shadows retreated. His end of their bond quietened, alarming her.
Finally, he said, ‘All this time you were my wife?’
Her breath stuck to her throat. ‘According to our custom, yes.’
‘And you kept that a secret.’ His wings flared behind him to their full glory and his eyes narrowed. ‘What did we discuss about your secrets?’
N leaned back, ‘Was I supposed to tell you all this when I had your blade to your throat? I’m not sure you’d have been open to that conversation.’ Her voice reeked of confidence but Azriel saw the facade waning in her darkening eyes.
Memories flitted through his mind—visions of her from the instant he laid his eyes on her to the present. Every misfortune they endured, every second they spent in love, every. . .
He stalked her on his knees, his hands on either side of her. He hissed, ‘You slept with those males after that.’ A sound escaped his throat, a rumble deep from his chest. ‘My wife slept with other males to spite me.’
N stared at his lips and swallowed thickly. She hurried back, her hands slipping on the smooth marble under her. 'Azriel,' she whined wincing at the way her body welcomed her impending doom.
Azriel inhaled sharply. ’You like that? When I call you my wife?’ He chuckled darkly. His lips whispered against hers, ‘Of all the things you kept from me, this is the worst. You’re not getting out of this easy this time.’
N pleaded with her eyes. Her breaths shuddered. ‘They are watching.’
‘Then they’ll know my actions are justified.’
Azriel dove for his kill but before his hands grasped her, she faded away. Her airy laughter echoed in his ears. She stood in the middle of the room—her hands gently clutching her skirt to free her feet, her braid coming undone over her shoulder, teeth sinking into her plump lip—a vision of devilry and seduction.
His eyes flashed up to hers with a glint. His shadows who wanted vengeance of their own circled his shoulders and arms with a frenzy. N was in trouble and she knew it. She turned to run only to be met with his hard chest emerging from a dark mist.
‘Did you really think you could get away?’ He caressed her cheek, ‘There’s no escape from me. You should know that by now.’
N slid her arms around his neck. ‘Back then, we barely knew each other. I didn’t want to scare you.’ She looked into his eyes. ‘I’m sorry.’ She sent every ounce of sincerity in her being through their bond, still he kept his end cloaked.
Azriel pulled his arms away. Dark amusement shone in his eyes. ‘As if a silly apology is going to save you.’
N smoothed her palms over his chest. ‘I know.’ Her lips brushed against his skin, littering his face with soft pecks. ‘I know,’ she kissed the corner of his lips, moving closer and closer to the centre as she breathed the words, ‘I’ll make it up to you. For every secret.’
Even as N pressed her body into his, Azriel stood unmoved with a cruel smirk on his lips and his hands by his side. Her fingers wandered over his sculpted torso before unbuttoning his shirt. The shadows on his shoulders swayed, watching, waiting. The regal female who made others quiver with fear grovelled for his forgiveness, and his wretched heart grew giddy with power and pride.
Azriel itched to grab her waist and bite her lips until she bled for him again. A true victory in this duel. He closed his eyes in a wasted effort to tame his thoughts. At the first touch of her cool fingers on his bare chest, he almost gave in.
His eyes snapped open the moment N pulled her lips away. She dropped to her knees, her fingers dancing on his hips. Pressing a kiss below his navel, she inched her hands between his legs and fondled him with the heel of her palms. The warmth from her hands seeped through the cotton, which he was forced to wear upon their arrival, promising him the pleasure that awaited him.
In all the years with her, Azriel treated her lips as a relic–sacred and holy–a crown jewel in the trove that was her body. Something to be guarded, treasured, worshipped. He never had to take her mouth the way she offered to him to reach for the stars.
N smiled sweetly. The goddess who witnessed every vice and virtue under the sky knelt before him with love in her heart and devotion in her eyes.
Enchanted, Azriel watched her. His lips parted with a shaky breath. Their bond blazed with emotions he couldn’t name. At that moment, he knew there had never been nor ever will be a male more blessed than he was.
His scarred hand cradled her cheek tinged with a soft blush. She leaned in, closing her eyes, trapping his hand between her shoulder and face. She sighed. She kissed his wrist, his palm, his fingers.
Azriel couldn’t decide which was in more pain—his heart or his cock. Both, mere toys in her hands.
N grazed her lips against his clothed hardness and Azriel closed his eyes. His head fell back. A gasp escaped deep from his chest when her tongue soaked him through the fabric. He couldn't remember why he wanted to punish his sweet mate. He was close to breaking already and all she did was tease.
A sharp scrape of her teeth along his length had him bury his hand in her hair softer than the flowers that tumbled down her breast. He hissed in warning as his eyes held hers in a glare.
‘I want you to look at me,’ she smiled. That damned smile that masked her every cruelty.
Too much time had passed since they felt each other’s skin. Months, almost a year of not seeing each other, not holding each other. And there she was ready to worship him with her entire being if only for a night until their time ran out. Every move of hers had his heart wring in pain, the desire through the bond overwhelming and consuming his soul.
His shadows swooped down and pulled her to him. Azriel crashed his lips onto hers before her feet rested on the ground and stole every little breath from her chest. His shadows brought them to her bed, delicate and soft fit for a queen, like her.
He pried the cord that held her dress together below her breasts. His lips ventured south leaving a trail of red on her neck and chest while N rewarded him with her moans. Shadows, ever obedient, parted her dress to make way for their master’s hand to relish the smoothness of her skin. He caressed every inch of her body with his marred hands except where she ached for him the most. She pleaded and moaned, guiding his hand between her legs.
‘You shouldn’t have lied to me,’ he growled, letting his canines scratch her jaw. ‘You know how I feel about secrets, don’t you?’ A sob left her lips as the back of his fingers teased her entrance with the barest of touch. ‘Is this what you call making up? Crying and moaning until your husband fucks you?’
N froze. Her eyes stared into his with unspoken emotion that radiated clearly in their bond instead. ‘Azriel, please.’ His hand came down hard between her legs. She arched her back beautifully for him as a silent gasp escaped her lips.
Azriel memorised every pull of her muscles. ‘You should’ve known better.’ He slipped his fingers in and out, barely past her entrance, coaxing moans out of her. Her wetness had his mouth water. He undid his pants enough to ease himself out and thrusted into her in a single move.
They were perfect for each other—masochists at heart, denying themselves release until the day for their reunion drew closer and closer. N reached a hand out and clawed at his chest. Her eyes widened and soon glazed with pleasure. Her lungs ached for air. Her body begged to escape the feral male whose only intention was to devour her body and soul. Yet, she wrapped her legs around him.
Azriel waited panting, his heart losing its rhythm, shirt clinging to his back. N tugged him closer with her heels on his ass. He growled, baring his teeth. He grabbed the back of her neck and pulled her to his chest. Her eyes fixated where his hips snapped against hers, where they were finally a whole. Each of her whimpers nudged him to quicken his pace.
He felt his release closing in. ‘Is this what you want?’ She looked up, mewling for him, her eyes burning with tears. Too soon. He pulled out of her weeping cunt and dove in with his tongue.
N cried out his name, sweeter than any melody she had ever sung for him. Her body slumped on the bed. She sought for leverage, her hands fisting the pillows. As she felt her fingers grasping at reality, shadows weaved around her wrist and pinned them above her head.
Azriel watched his mate’s body collapse and crash at his ministrations. He dug his fingers into her thighs tearing them open. Her bright eyes pinched shut before she met his crazed ones. With her chest glistening with sweat, her neck reddening, and her teeth sinking into her wet, swollen lips, she came.
Watching her body shiver with every lick of the evening breeze, Azriel rid himself of his clothes. He leaned down to kiss her lips, but she stared dazed. He laughed and nipped at the insides of her bicep, clearing the fog in her mind. Her arms flushed red as blood rushed back. Her fingers twitched and his shadows trickled along them. She came alive with whines when he slipped his fingers inside her.
Her desire came in waves through the bond. A groan rose from his chest, a guttural rumble. Even after his transgressions, she only wanted more, more of him. N clenched around his fingers at the sound. Azriel chuckled darkly into her ear. N curled into herself and clenched again. A renewed glint came to his eyes as he stared into hers.
‘She likes my voice, does she now? I always wondered. . .’ He lowered himself between her legs again, his second haven, the first being her embrace. A series of soft ‘please’ escaped her but the lust in her eyes told a different story, the bond sang a different tune. And he chose to heed its calling.
He wrapped a hand around her thigh and pushed the other aside with his shoulder. He didn’t want to miss this one. It was no new knowledge. He always had his suspicions, years of practice in observing the unobserved. But to finally see it with his own eyes, he was desperate to witness it. He wanted it to be true, he prayed for it to be true.
The room was filled with nothing but N’s silent pleas. Her wetness glistened in the last lights of dusk promising him an elixir crafted just for him. A fresh wave of arousal rolled over her body. Azriel hummed, breathing in the scent.
‘So pretty,’ he exhaled. His eyes took in every flutter that invited him back. ‘You like being praised, don’t you?’ N moaned fighting against the shadows that held her hostage. Azriel pulled her close by her hip and inhaled—loud and deep—his nose almost touching her.
‘Always wet for me, eager for me.’ His voice softened, his taunts dying as if his anger was meant for N and not her cunt, ‘I missed you so much. I can tell you missed me too,’ he pressed his lips to her thigh, his eyes unwavering, ‘by the way you wrapped around me, by the way you swallowed me.’ His cock throbbed at his own words.
He rasped, ‘Look at you, teasing me. Do you want a kiss?’ He flattened a hand on her abdomen, his fingers stroking deliberate patterns. ‘My tongue, my fingers? Hmm?’ Her hip jerked up for more and he pressed a kiss to the arch above her clit.
'Azriel, please. I want more.'
‘So wanton, so needy.’ A wisp of shadow licked her entrance once and N closed her eyes. Her hips moved in tandem as if she could materialise what she needed out of thin air. ‘So beautiful.’ Azriel grazed a thumb along the junction where her leg met her hip. N fell back with a groan.
‘You want me, don’t you? You never lie to me,’ another kiss to her thigh, ‘You can’t lie. Unlike N,’ his eyes finally caught her desperate ones. For a moment, he almost felt tyrannical to let the wicked smile pull at his lips. N threw her head back and circled her hips again.
‘That’s it, pretty. Show me how you’d fuck me. Show me how beautiful you are.’ His tongue trailed a line alongside his thumb, ‘Come for me.’
Her legs went taut around his shoulders. Her toes dug into his back next to where his wing emerged from. When her stomach sank in, Azriel shoved two fingers inside and held it there as she unravelled with a choked moan.
Pure, perverse pride filled his chest as his mate bucked and thrashed at the impact. Azriel was sick—sick at heart, sick in his desires. He never denied it. But it hardly felt a sickness with N trembling with his fingers inside.
Having lived through the horrors he did and committed unspeakable sins over his lifetime, Azriel knew there was no absolution for him. Nor that he cared. He already had his heaven, right there, in front of him, basking in the afterglow of pure pleasure.
He nuzzled his nose into her thigh to steal a little more warmth from her exhausted body. He brushed his cheek against her, closing his eyes, savouring the moment before his primal need destroyed the only person he loved the most. He hummed satisfied, pressing the lightest of kisses to her skin, his pathetic attempt to atone for the wicked he unleashed upon her. His heart should cower in shame and guilt, yet it swelled with love and hunger.
His name, whispered once, tore his attention from his perverted thoughts. He never cared for what he was called. But in her sweet voice, a sacred chant uttered in the confines of their chamber, he liked no word more than his own name. His shadows answered her call, smoothed over her sweat-covered body apologising for their master’s sadism, burning her skin with their delicate coolness. Some mercy, for they were no better than him.
Azriel brushed a thumb along her cheek gathering her tears away, a tender kiss placed in their stead. He smiled like a gentle lover. He parted her lips with his fingers soaked in her essence and slid them past her teeth.
With hooded eyes, N looked up at the male who sought the remnants of her soul clinging to her body and sucked on the tips. Her tongue rivalled the wetness between her legs. She was a true seductress.
Azriel lapped at his fingers and the lips sheathing them alike, tasting her whole at once, embracing the insanity he fought to stave off for so long. Even when he slipped his fingers out of her mouth, even when he pressed his body onto hers, even when he lined himself to her welcoming heat, he didn’t break the kiss like her lips were his only tether to reality.
N stilled beneath him. Another tear slipped from the corner of her beautiful eyes. Azriel was cruel, but he was capable of loving his mate right. He wrapped a hand around her shoulder and smoothed a palm over her hip. He inched in slowly into her pulsing cunt, ‘Give me one more, love. Just one. For me?’
His mate, ever merciful, nodded. The adoration that flowed through the golden string between their hearts reflected in her eyes. ‘Please,’ she said breathlessly, ‘please, Azriel. I want to touch you.’
The one whose dangerous hands slit throats of the most feral of males and females with grace asked to touch him so sweetly. How could he deny anything to her?
His shadows didn’t wait for his instructions. They released her arms and slid over to the skin their master left unattended, staking their claim on her body. Azriel reined them back only to lose control again. She made him jealous of his own shadows, ones meant to serve him, ones who forgot their place around her.
A long sigh pulled his focus back to her. Too exhausted to hold him like she always did, N ran her hands along his sides. ‘I missed you.’
‘I missed you too.’ Azriel lifted her thigh higher and wrapped it around his waist ripping a whine from her throat. He did miss her. He missed everything about her. Her raw devotion to him, her pure heart, her unconditional love.
As he moved deeper and deeper still, he felt it. The echo of a song he knew too well, one of love and longing that kept them connected through the times of separation. Beyond the familiarity of its thrum, he recognised something else.
Like catching a flicker of light after being lost in the dark for long. Like the first time he gained control of the darkness he was born with. Like the first time he tasted his freedom. In her arms, everything made sense. His breaths strained.
Tears flowed freely from her eyes. ‘I missed you,’ There was a tremor in her voice. Azriel soothed her with his own declarations but she shook her head, ‘Don’t make me leave you again. Please, I can’t live like this anymore. I can’t, not without you.’
Azriel always believed he loved her more than she could love him in her lifetime. His petty display of jealousy and temper, a proof of his love. What an arrogant fool. His heart ached for failing to truly see his beloved’s feelings for him, how deep it ran in her veins, how it destroyed her while it breathed life into him.
He pulled her close, enveloping her in his comfort, and his wings draped around them.
‘Promise me, Azriel.’ She closed her eyes, ‘Please.’
‘I’m here now,’ he caressed her cheek. He left kisses on her forehead, eyes, cheeks, and finally on her lips. ‘I’m here. I’m with you, love. I’m here.’ And at those words, N let go one last time leading him to his release.
Azriel left his shaking mate in the bed with a kiss when he came back to his senses to draw a bath. He stood by the door of her bathroom and watched his shadows tickle the skin below her ear. A light chuckle escaped her lips as more chased her hand. It was a sight he was used to and missed dearly.
N smiled at him as he carried her in his arms. Her body shivered at the first touch as Azriel lowered her into the tub. She tugged at his wrist, and he joined in. She leaned her back into his chest and closed her eyes. The water washed her exhaustion away while his hands massaged her tender flesh. Her eyes struggled to stay open and she sank deeper against him. As he dried her tenderly after, she watched him with an easy smile.
Azriel carried her out to the bedroom and paused. Fresh sheets lined her bed. Sweet fragrance of jasmine lingered in the air. Lit candles stood on windows and her desk. Moonlight streamed past the drawn curtains. His shadows failed to notice, too lost in her as he was.
‘I told you they were watching,’ N said, her voice quiet and tired.
He eased her into the bed and pulled a blanket over her legs. He traced the marks of red on her stomach and between her breasts, marring her pristine skin—still a masterpiece—complete, perfect. ‘Do you think they’ll let me near you again after seeing what I’ve done?’ He couldn’t stop the smile that cruelly tugged at his mouth.
N groaned, throwing a hand over her eyes. ‘I’m pretty sure Mother Aarzu is already dissecting how you wrecked me for her next seduction lesson.’
‘Well then,’ Azriel laid beside her and pulled her to his chest, ‘I’m willing to contribute more to these lessons. They sound very necessary.’
She glared from behind her hand. ‘Mock all you want but your brothers are worse. I bet Rhysand was listening to your thoughts the whole time. And they are already planning on ways to taunt you.’
Azriel lifted a brow. He opened his mouth to defend his ability to guard his thoughts when his brother’s laughter echoed in his mind. ‘Your shields are pathetic when she’s around. They went down the moment her lips were on you.’ N flinched in his arms and he knew his brother invaded her mind as well for his next words, ‘Thanks for the show. Quite an. . .inspiration.’
N scoffed, ‘I don’t know why we do it behind closed doors.’ Her words had his mind conjure ideas already. A frown appeared between her brows. She looked at him sharply when she felt a hardness pressing into her hip, ‘We’re not doing that.’
Azriel laughed aloud. Something he hadn’t done in a while after he sent his mate away. ‘Anything my wife wants,’ he teased. He cradled her face against his chest and kissed her eye. ‘Anything you want.’
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