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dadyscumslutprincess20 · 5 months

Note

S2 cha hyun su smut with female reader where his monster side takes control and it involves a breeding kink with overstimulation 🥰 ( he would make an amazing daddy after watching s2 please tell me I'm not the only one who thinks this)

Cha Hyun Su X Fem Reader

Bold: Monster side , regular: Hyun Su

Genre: Smut

Breeding

Warning ⚠️: Breeding kink, overstimulation , teasing , fingering

Small summary: After Hyun su broke free from the soldiers , he ended up running into Seo Yi-Kyung , who had just given birth to her baby girl , Ah-Yi , Soon realizing that the small girl was born part monster , as Seo Yi-Kung leaves the girl to Hyun Su for the time being , Months later both reader and Hyun su reunite as he tells her everything that happened since she’s been away , a year later as you watch over Hyun su who takes care of the now 14 year old girl like she was his own always being there when Seo Yi-king wasn’t , today you and Hyun su were with Ah-Yi as you watch there father- daughter bond , soon realizing you want a child of your own

It’s now been a year since you reunited with Hyun su , at the time you thought that you were to late , that he found a lover since he was holding a small child in his arms

As you were washing yours , Ah-Yi and Hyun Su’s clothes , well what remained of his clothes , almost all of his remaining shirts now hold holes and rips in them due to his wing that forms when his in his monster form

Carefully soaking the shirt in water a few times before squeezing the water from the shirt , placing it in the crate with the other clean clothes , standing to your feet as your pick up the crate now full of clean clothes as Ah-Yi pink gloves sit safety at the top now clean as ready to be dried

Walking down the hall as you headed for the hanging room as you careful place the crate on the floor , heading for the dresser that was the only thing left behind , quickly grabbing the clips on top of the dresser as you head towards the crate full of clothes

Carefully grabbing Ah-Yi gloves as you place them over the rack , since they were held by a string it was easier to just hand them over the hanging rack/string , carefully grabbing the next pair of clothing as you hang each clothes with 1-2 clips

Once you were dinged with the last piece of clothing you carefully pick up the cadre placing it by the door as you head out the room deciding to leave the door open a bit

You were lucky enough to find a small home hidden not to far from the small garden that Ah-Yi liked to hang out in , it also wasn’t to far from the boat deck that Seo Yi-Kung was living in along with Ah-Yi , making it easier for Hyun su to get to her when ever he needed to or to simply just check on her

There were lots of times were Ah-Yi would rather stay over with you and Hyun su , it shocked you at first that she actually took a liking to you , but you knew it was only because of Hyun su , She knew how much he cared about not only her but you to , Ah-Yi also had times were she would come to you to talk about girl issues ones she was to scared to ask Hyun su

It wanted your heart to know how she thought of Hyun su as a father and he also thought of her as his daughter , as you were now in you and Hyun su shared room , laying on the bed as you quickly become bored as your mind start to wonder

Your mind starting to picture what it would be like if you had a child of your own , smile slightly growing as you start to think of ways to ask Hyun su without making him uncomfortable

After a couple more minutes of thinking you decided to just simply ask him hoping he wouldn’t say no , getting out of bed as your stomach starts to growl as you headed to the small kitchen, there wasn’t much but you were lucky enough to find canned foods , canned fruits and lots of granola bars

Sighing as your grab as granola bar and a bottle of water , sitting in the small couch in what was left of a living room as you open the granola bar taking a bite , reaching for the bed that you left on the table a day ago as you open the book and start to read were you left off finishing off your food

After reading a couple of chapter , closing your book as your place it in the table , quickly grabbing the water bottle as you open the cap taking a few sips as you close the cap back , standing to your feet as your head in the kitchen placing the bottle in the table , as you now head for the drying room to check on the clothes

Opening the door as your head for the hanging clothes, closing the door a bit behind you , checking to make sure they were completely dry as you take them off the string, placing them inside the crate , as your were taking down Ah-Yi gloves you head the door behind opened

Quickly becoming nervous as you turn to face the door , holding the gloves tightly as you hear pairs of foot steps heading your way , biting your lip as you watch as the door slowly opens as your breath quickens

Letting out a small breath as your nervous now clam down once you see it was Hyun su as he enters the room , Ah-Yi following behind soon after

“You..washed my gloves” Ah-Yi says as she stares at the now clean gloves in your hands

“U-uh yea , here you go” you say nervously as you hand her the gloves carefully

“Thanks” Ah-yi says with a smile carefully taking the gloves from your hands , making sure to not touch you once as she places the gloves on her hands , smiling at how bright they looked

“ I’m going to my room , I’m super tired” Ah-Yi says with a small yarn smile still on her face , giving her a small nod as you give her a wave , Ah-Yi quickly gives Hyun su a hug and good night before running off to the spare room

Quickly facing Hyun su once Ah-Yi was far enough as you notice his tired face, quickly noticing a pair of eyes on him as he turns to look as you , cheeks turning red as he see you staring at him

“W-Why are you..looking at me like that” Hyun su says with a blush as he becomes a bit nervous to what you were up to

“Just thinking”you reply with a small smile as you coo to stare at Hyun su

“T-Thinking of what exactly ” Hyun su asks now being curious to what you were thinking exactly, as his heads tilts to the side a bite , looking like a lost puppy

“How would you both feel about a baby” You asks bravely as you look Hyun Su in the eyes as his eyes becomes slightly wide , quickly turning his head as he now faces a mirror, one of his eyes turning blue

‘Is that a good idea’ Hyun su asks his self

‘Come on , say yes , imagine it’ Hyun su monster self replies

‘How much bigger her boobs will be, the breast milk, how big her belly will become carrying our child, if you want I can take over , maybe even take turn , yah’ His mister self adds as he shows off a wide smile

As Hyu su takes a minute to think , cashing you to become confused as he suddenly became quite noticing that he was staring in the mirror as you turn to look in the mirror see into that one of his brown eyes was now blue , now getting what was going on as you patiently wait for their decision

‘ Okay , just don’t hurt her’ Hyun su finally agrees as he feels his self fall into a deep sleep

As Hyun su slowlg turns to face you eyes now closed as he softly runs his neck with one of his hands , after a couple seconds his opens his eyes staring straight in to your soul causing your cunt to become as you let out a soft whimper

Taking slow steps towards you as he stops only a inch away as he bends down to your height now eye to eye with you

Eyes scanning between your lips and yes and he gives you a small smirk barely noticeable

“What are we going the do” Hyun su says with a slight smirk eyes now locking with yours , quickly picking you up in his strong arms as your legs wrap around his waist ,arm wrapped arm hai neck as he’s still staring in to your eyes as he turns and carries you out of the room

Exiting the drying room as he heads down the halls towers yours shared room , taking one hand as he quickly opens the door kicking it closed once he was inside , walking tot he bed as he carefully throw a you on the bed , heading for the door , as he locks the door , heading back to you on the bed as his takes a minute to look you over

“Strip” Hyun Su demands eyes not leaving your figure once as your quickly get off the bed hands reaching for the bottoms of your shirt as your slowly pull it over your head , eyes locked with Hyun su as your slowly reach for the back of your bra , quickly undoing the hooks as you pull it off the arms dropping it to the floor

Hyun su eyes now traveling down to your huge plump boobs as he lets out a small groan , feeling his pants becoming slightly tight as he watches your hands slowly moves towards your shorts , quickly unbuckling your shorts , undoing your zipper as your pull them down your hips causing them to fall to the floor , kicking them to the side as you soon do the same to your panties

Slowly climbing on the bed not once braking eye contact with Hyun su as you stop at the middle of the bed , sitting on your knees as your hands slowly moves up your legs , towards your dripping core , up your stomach, stopping once they were finally at your boobs as your use your hands to give them a slight squeeze knowing how much it bothered Hyun su

Letting out a annoyed groan as Hyun su walks towards your sitting figure as he uses a hand to grab a hold of your throat pushing you on your back and he uses his other hand to pull your legs from under you so you wouldn’t be hurt

“ Don’t fucking tempt me , sweetheart” Hyun su threatens as he loosens his grip a bit , allowing you to gasp for air , using his free hand as it travels down to your body given your a hard squeeze to your now hard nipple as your let out a soft moan , letting go of your neck as he starts to let wet kiss down your neck stopping once he was between your boobs

With one hand playing with your boob , he start to kiss and suck on your boob that was unoccupied as he start to bite softly at your nipples causing you to let out breathy moans as your arch your back slightly off the shared bed

After a few more licks at your boobs he turned to give the other the same treatment as you tried your best not to make much noise as you didn’t want to wake Ah-Yi

Pulling away from your boobs as he travels back up towards your lips giving your deep and loving kisses , using one hand to open your legs wider , hand now traveling to your dripping core as he uses two fingers to spread your fluids causing your to key out a gasp

“So wet for me” Hyun Su says as he lets out a deep groan as he pushes two fingers inside your dripping cunt cashing you to let out a loud moan

“Hold up your legs” Hyun su says as he’s eyes lock with your soaked cunt , not giving you the pleasure your cunt desperately needed as you quickly grab hold of your legs pulling them towards your chest

Once you had a hold of your legs , Hyun su moves his fingers at a fast pace causing you to arch your back off the shared bed , biting your lips as hard as possible to not make much noise , as Hyun su fingers start to move in and out of you at a pace that your mind couldn’t process as your toes start to curl

Hyundai su eyes not leaving your core once as the noises it made sounded like music to him as he gives your cunt a wide smile , picturing how you would look with a huge belly as he adds a thirds finger picking up his pace as you let a moan slip past your lips eyes rolling to the back of your head as you pull both your legs closer towards your chest

Leaning into your inner thighs as he leans soft wet kisses trailing down to your dripping core as your nails start to dig into your skin as Hyun su leave wet kisses against your clit causing your mind to go fuzzy as you feel your self tighten around his fingers , feeling your climax nearing

“I-I’m gonna” you moan out loud biting down hard in your lip , as your feel a knot form in your stomach, dripping cunt tighten around Hyun Su fingers but before you could release he quickly pulled away , letting out a soft moan and whine due to lost contact as you quickly look toward Hyun su

Only to see him left in just his shirt and boxers , quickly pulling off his shirt as he stares at your in the eyes , blue eyes shiny with amusement as his hands slowly reaches for his boxers pulling them down in one pull as they drop to his ankles , kicking both his pants and boxers to the side as he slowly climbs on top of you

Giving you a wet and passionate kiss as he pushes his thick , 8 inch cock in to your dripping core , sliding in with ease as you were already soaked from the start

Without waisting a second Hyun started to violently pound in your wet cunt as you let out a loud moan forgetting all about trying to stay quite , eyes rolling to the back of your head as you let go of you legs , arm quickly wrapping around his neck and one claws at his back which heals within seconds

Aw Hyun su thrust becomes faster , back arching off off the bed as the room fills with the sound of lid skin slapping , Hyun su grabs at your hips with one hand as he uses the other to hold on to the head board, keeping you in pace as he violently pounds your now sensitive cunt as your climax was nearing once again

“ I-I’m , Please” you moan out as you hold eye contact with Hyun su

“Hold it” Hyun su says with a deep groan as he lets go of the head board, grabbing a hold of your neck , as he thrust becomes deeper kissing at your cervix , legs starting to shake as you try your hardest to hold your climax

Leaning in as he starts to give your a kiss , lips moving in sync as he lets go of your hip hand moving towards your dropping cunt as he start to rub your clot with slow circles , which soon turned into a pace pace almost like it was making his thrust as he continued to pound your wet core

Eyes now in the back of your head as your feel a knot form in your stomach, letting out loud moans in the kiss as you claw deeper in to Hyun su back , as you were to more in pleasure you didn’t release your came over Hyun su cock

Not until he came to complete stop , slowly braking the kiss as he pulls away from you , blue eyes looking between you and his now cremes cock as he take a minute to process what you did

“I didn’t say you could cum” Hyun su as he looks as you with a cold expression

“I-I C-Coulnt hold it, please” You managed to let out in a shaky breath

As Hyun Su still hold a cold expression eyes locked on yours , before your could say anything he start to pounded in your now sore and soaked cut and you let out a loud moan

Grabbing at your throat with both his hands and he pounds into you at a inhuman speed , once you didn’t know he had until now , as your legs starts to shake violently, arms clawing at his back as your kind becomes fuzzy to fucked out to think of anything other then Hyun Su’s thick cock inside of you

“P-Please, Slow.. D-Down” you managed to moan out as Hyun Su seems to ignore you as he thrust stats to do deeper biting at you womb as your back arch’s off the bed

“H-Hyun su .. C-Can’t.. N-No more” you moan as your eyes roll back a bit further making your feel as if they would pop out at any minute as your body starts to become sore , as your cunt couldn’t handle any more violent attacks, feeling a knot form in your stomach for the millionth time right as you try yo keep a hold of Hyun su as your boobs bounced with every thrust

“Cu-Cumming” you moan out as Hyun su grip tightens around your neck causing your cunt to tighten around his cock

“Hold it” Hyun Su demands as he thrust starts to become more sloppy with a few more thrust he came deep inside of your womb as your back arch , you cumming soon after as he continued to fuck his come in to yours , making sure they were mixed together before finally pulling out of your as he lays next to you , body now sore as you lay on his chest soon falling to sleep

As Hyun su laid next to you eyes soon turning to their normal color as he doses off to sleep

#black reader #fem reader #female reader #smut #sweet home #sweet home 2 #sweet home imagines #x reader #cha hyun soo #cha hyunsu #sweethomefanfic #sweet home x reader #sweet home fanfic #cha hyun su x reader

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lovelyladyabsinthewrites · 2 months

Text

Pairing(s): Rhysand x Reader, Cassian x Reader, Azriel x Reader

Warnings: poly relationship, smut, sharing is caring, poly mates, fff what i would give to have the bat boys as my mates, voyeurism, masturbation, bratty reader, disobeying rhys and the gang, punishment, overstimulation

Words: 1761

Summary: One major flaw of your's: You were cocky of not just your own strengths, but also the guard dogs at your beck and call. Your three mates.

You knew you were in deep shit the moment you nailed the coffin into your decision.

Rhysand forbade you from acting out on your own during this reconnaissance. Normally he wouldn't have said anything; you were good at whatever you put your mind to and you knew how to behave yourself unlike Cassian who was known to blow his cover from time to time. You and Azriel made an excellent spy pair. Both levelheaded and calculating, not to mention very deadly. Lacking the useful shadows that were unique to Azriel, that didn't stop you from being just as intimidating.

Or perhaps reckless.

That was one major flaw of your's. You were cocky of not just your strengths, but also the guard dogs at your beck and call. Your three mates. Yes, THREE.

A fae would be lucky to find their soulmate in their lifetime. Many never felt that electrifying spark of your invisible bond being snapped into place. And you'd felt it three times. A phenomenon that had never been witnessed before in all of fae history. It caused Rhysand to delve deep into the House of Wind's library to look up whatever he could about fae soulmates. He even went so far as to ask Helion, whom he had a somewhat friendly relationship with, if he could scrounge up any information on his end. The Day Court high lord upon hearing of this immediately became highly interested.

Of course you would feel indestructible. On top of the world even. In your pocket you possessed a High Lord, a general and a spymaster. You yourself were known as the Mistress of Poison.

None of that would save you from disobeying Rhysand's orders though. Sometimes you forgot that you HAD to obey him. Even if the four of you stood together as equals, there was still a power dynamic when regarding Rhysand. Azriel would not be covering for you this time.

"It was the perfect opportunity Rhys!" Trying to argue your case once more, Rhysand merely holds a hand up to quiet you. You pout, biting down on your lower lip to prevent anymore words from slipping out. Nervously you glance to either side of you where Cassian and Azriel stood.

Az's blue eyes catch you in the corner, he stiffly shakes his head. Don't argue, love.

Even Cassian's voice chimes in You've really done it this time.

He wasn't exaggerating. Rhys' pretty violet eyes were hardened. "You could have gotten hurt." More importantly, you blocked me from your thoughts. Like you think I wouldn't know. "You disobeyed me. You could have even blown Azriel's position."

Unlikely. . . Azriel half muses but returns his face to a neutral expression when he caught Rhysand's gaze sharply slice into him.

Utterly foolish, you utter "But I didn't get hurt. And I didn't blow Azriel's cover." The pressure of his power thickens the air around you. "I succeeded in killing them, didn't I? Succeeded in what we were sent out to do."

Cauldron, zip your beautiful mouth. Mentally hisses Cassian. From the corner of your eye you catch a twitch of his wings.

You were digging your own grave yet you couldn't stay silent. Rhys' doubt of your capability wounded you.

Rhys sighs deeply through his nose, the rigidness of his broad shoulders reduces when he reads your thoughts. "That's not the issue here."

"You don't think I can take care of myself? That I can't be trusted like Cassian and Azriel?"

Inhaling deeply through his nose, Rhysand's deep black hair shifts as he shakes his head. "Perhaps this is my fault. You think you don't have to listen to me because you're my mate. That you don't have to listen to any of us."

From either side, you suddenly feel hands clamp down on your wrists. Rounded eyes gawk at Cassian before swiveling to Azriel. You give your wrists an experimental tug to test your restraints. Fingers like iron manacles.

"You're spoiled."

Brat.

The click of his boots hammer into your chest each step he took.

"I can't let this insubordination continue. I know you can take care of yourself. If you had discussed this with us, we would not be in the situation we're in now."

You didn't even tell Az where you'd rushed off to. And you didn't care about what you would be putting him through with your vanishing act.

Finally Rhysand stands in front of you. His entire hand was able to grab your entire jaw. "I'm proud that you succeeded. But I'm going to have to remedy your arrogance."

You try to wrench your face out of his grasp, in response Rhysand tightens his hold. He's not looking at you, addressing the other two. "Take her to my room. I'll be there in a moment. Have her ready."

A thrilling surge shoots through your core, alongside terror that you would be at their complete mercy. Unable to touch and coax them. All of you knew you wouldn't apologize for what you did. This wasn't the first time you'd callously acted on your own. To your credit, it had been quite some time since you'd last disobeyed Rhys.

"Really should have kept your mouth shut." Cassian barks out a laugh as he and Azriel haul you off.

Azriel shakes his head but even he has a smile quirking up the corners of his mouth. "Maybe it's you who needs to shut your mouth Cass. She may be at our mercy, but I doubt that exempts you from having your dick bitten."

He rolls his eyes. "She would never! Love my cock too much, don't you?"

In reply you snap your jaws at him before turning your attention to Az. "You know I didn't mean anything bad by what I did. I know I should have taken your feelings into consideration-"

"But you didn't. Don't think you can sweeten me up with a belated apology." Hazel eyes narrow at you. He would be offering no help to you. "Be silent and accept your punishment.

The cover over your eyes disorients you even more. Still you were able to distinguish whose cock was shoved into your mouth and whose teeth were sweetly nibbling on your clit causing you to cry out and beg for mercy.

You'd already orgasmed twice and your poor clit was overstimulated to the point where pleasure bordered pain.

You try to yank your hands free from Rhys' magic that bound you. His heavy gaze weighing you down. You didn't require sight, of course Rhysand would be watching. Probably fisting his own thick cock that was beading with precum. He wouldn't waste his seed on masturbating though.

"Alright. Have her present." Rhys voice sounds lazy as he commands his general and spymaster to stop.

Suddenly your body is pulled this way and that until your face is pressed against a pillow, ass positioned high up. Rough hands spread your legs so your already messy cunt is on display for the High Lord of the Night Court.

There's a sharp smack to your ass that has you yelping.

Another.

And another.

Then obtrusive fingers slide right into your exhausted pussy. You'd already taken Cassian and Azriel. Twice.

A hand, most likely Az's, strokes your sweat soaked hair.

"We're a team, are we not?" Rhysand's harsh tone clips through your pants.

"Y-Yes." At that point you'd allow all three of them to try and shove their dicks inside of your cunt if it meant you could get water and some rest. "M'sorry. . ."

"We talk things out together." He removes his fingers and you could feel the spongy tip of his cock prod at you. "None of us make a move until all of us agree. Was that not the plan? Don't apologize just to me."

"M'sorry Cass. . . S-Sorry Az. . ." You're barely able to catch your breath when you feel Rhysand breach your folds. Your nails cling desperately to the sheets under you.

Cassian laughs. "I know you are, sweetheart. I forgive you."

Azriel's scarred digits are still weaving through your hair as he hums. "Just remember next time. Don't let it happen again."

"Though I dare say she likes being punished." Darkly laughs Cassian when Rhysand finally snaps his hips forward to sheathe himself inside of you.

He stretches your walls to their limit in a ferocious rhythm that has you unattractively squealing. Rhysand's grip on your waist is firm as he keeps you in position with the help of your other two mates. You can't help the drool that dribbles out of the corner of your mouth. Especially when his balls keep tapping against your clit.

Through his own groans of pleasure at the absolute death grip your pussy had on his shaft, Rhysand manages to pull himself together to ask "What do you guys think, should I make her cum again?"

"N... N. . . No!" You helplessly protest from under him.

They just laugh.

"Never heard you reject an orgasm before." Azriel cheekily comments.

Rhysand must have thought it a good idea since you felt another white hot jolt when the pad of his finger lands on your poor clit that throbbed with its own heartbeat. "Our High Lady can take one more."

You thought you'd ascended to another plane of existence.

Your boys spent the next two hours bathing you from the mess they'd made of your body.

With feather light touches, Azriel gently ran a soft towel over your sensitive skin.

Sitting between Rhysand's legs, your High Lord washed your hair. When he came across a knot, Rhysand coaxed it free without the harsh tugging they'd previously been doing with it. He'd asked you to recount to him how you'd killed the target. Now that the hard feelings were over, your boys wanted to hear about your success.

After bathing, Cassian presents you with a pre-warmed towel that engulfed your whole being.

Once in bed, your eyes grew warm. "I am sorry. Really. We are a team. I shouldn't have acted on my own."

Rhysand leans down to brush his lips along the bridge of your nose before kissing you. "You don't have to apologize anymore."

Cassian, being your favorite teddy bear, slithers under the sheets with you and pulls you to his expansive chest. He insisted on being first in the cuddling duties. Rhysand and Azriel unfortunately had to finish their own respective duties. But the general was all your's for the rest of the night.

He kisses the crown of your head. "Rest sweetling."

Azriel kisses your cheek before standing tall. "Have sweet dreams."

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rebelliousstories · 2 months

Text

Jasmines and Vanilla

Relationship: Spencer Reid x Reader

Fandom: Criminal Minds

Request: No

Warnings: Fluff

Word Count: 2,869

Main Masterlist: Here

Criminal Minds Masterlist: Here

Summary: A certain smell catches Reid’s attention in the bullpen.

American poet Diane Ackerman once said, “Nothing is more memorable than a smell. One scent can be unexpected, momentary and fleeting, yet conjure up a childhood summer beside a lake in the mountains.”

There was absolutely nothing remarkable about today. It was a paperwork day, which meant staying in the office. No flying on the jet to go stop an unsub in some other part of the country, or hopping in their government issued SUVs to find them on their home turf. The whole BAU team was stuck in the office and it was glorious. Having just come home from a case the day prior; everyone was excited about having a paperwork day to relax.

“Ugh, don’t get me wrong, I love these days where were not jet-setting across the country. But why do they always feel like they pass by slower than when we are going all over on the governments dime to stop bad guys?” The bored voice of Emily Prentiss called throughout the bullpen.

“An increased dopamine rush to your brain increases your internal perception of time. But dopamine and adrenaline cause such similar reactions inside your brain, it has the same effect leading to you feeling like time passes much faster when we’re in the field and-” Spencer was quickly cut off by the aforementioned agent.

“I really should know better than to ask after all these years.” Reid cast his eyes back down to his paperwork and felt embarrassment creep up his neck. In all honesty, he should be used to that after all these years but it still never got any easier to have someone shut him down. Turning back to his paperwork, he ignored the scoffed chuckle from JJ and tried to recenter himself.

There was no unusual sounds from the area heard for a while after that. Or maybe there was, but Spencer chose to bury himself in his work so that he would be less likely to go on an embarrassing factual rant. He did not know how long he kept his nose buried in the case files on his desk, but he knew what drew them out of it. A collective confused noise from the women around him, and perfume.

It was unlike anything he had smelled around the office, and it caused his head to perk up. In walked a woman around his age, yet much smaller than him, even with the heels she had worn. Her hair was curled up and out of her face, reminding him of the victory rolls worn during World War II by the working women of the era. In fact, her entire look reminded him of that era. She wore a type of secretary’s uniform from the era, had on red lipstick that complemented her features nicely and a winged eyeliner that drew attention to them.

A visitor’s pass dangled from on of the lapels. She was obviously here on purpose, but for what purpose, no one knew. But what drew him in, was that smell; the smell of her perfume. It was intoxicating to him. How he was this way about a woman he had never met before, let alone knew the name of? All he knew was that she had enraptured his senses in less than a minute, fifty-six seconds to be exact.

Heels clicked into the bullpen, and a tidal wave of color followed. It was almost comical seeing Penelope standing next to Derek, who had opted for all black for his relaxing day in his office. The clicking stopped shortly after the pair locked their eyes on to the new woman out in the middle of the floor.

“Who is that?” Garcia squeaked out, unable to pull her eyes from the mystery woman. Morgan’s eyes were glued to the same place, but he went to go introduce himself to her.

“Haven’t got a clue, baby girl. One sec.” He made his way down the stairs to where everyone was confused. But before he made it to her, Derek’s eyes caught on to something even more interesting than the visitor. It was the look on the resident genius’ face. With a smirk, he strutted to where the other man sat and placed his hand on his shoulder. Spencer jumped in his seat and looked to who had startled him out of his own thoughts.

“You should go introduce yourself, pretty boy. She looks a little lost.” The younger man pursed his lips and shook his head in defeat.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” While Spencer tried to turn back to the case files, his eyes kept flickering up to the young woman.

“Well, I think I’m gonna go introduce myself to her then.” And with that, Reid was forced to watch the spectacle of the enigma that was Derek Morgan in action.

“Hello, miss. Is there something I can help you with?” He stuck out his hand and waited for her to notice him. She looked down at his hand and offered a wave instead of reaching for it.

“Hi. I’m looking for Aaron Hotchner. Do you happen to know where he could be?” Her voice flowed like honey and Spencer was in heaven. He really needed to get a grip on his senses.

“Um, yes. I do. He’s up there, but you know Dr. Reid here could show where he is exactly. I’m running late for a meeting but I’ll be around if you need anything else.” Said Dr. Reid was starting to panic. Morgan was walking her towards his desk. Was his hair acceptable? Was his perpetually crooked tie still crooked? Was he slouching? She was getting closer and closer, and he could smell her perfume more heavily.

“This is Dr. Spencer Reid. Reid, this is… I didn’t actually get a name but I’m sure you’ll introduce yourself.” And with that, the suave agent left the two youngsters alone with each other. But they were not alone. Eyes stared at them from women all around the bullpen who were treating this like a mid day spa opera.

“Hi. I’m Reid, um Dr. Spencer Reid.” He raised his hand in a wave as he stood to greet the woman.

“Hi, I’m,” cut off from her introduction, was a deep voice sounding through the pen.

“Honey, is that you?” Mystery woman turned, and let out a bright smile at Aaron Hotchner who stood at the top of the stairs right outside his office.

“Hey. I was looking for you. I’ll be right there.” She turned back to the young doctor before her.

“It was nice meeting you Dr. Reid.” She turned to leave, but there was a moment that she hesitated. Spencer saw this, and without warning, or the ability to stop himself, he spoke.

“Did you know that in the Middle East Jasmine is typically called, ’Queen of the Night’ because the cooler temperatures and darkness allow the blossoms to emit a greater concentration of their scent? Also, the buds of the Jasmine plant are far more fragrant than the fully bloomed flowers?” As soon as he finished, Spencer cringed. He could not believe himself. Here he was trying not to make himself look like a fool in front of this mysteriously pretty woman, but that flew out with window with his big mouth and infinitely bigger brain.

“I did not know that. I’m quite shocked you picked up on that note. Everyone always smells vanilla.” With her body turned, Reid could not help but to profile her. Her shoulders were relaxed. One foot pointed towards Hotch and the other one him indicating that she wanted to keep her conversation going yet needed to turn and leave him. A soft smile let him know that she was genuinely interested in the conversation and her eyes sparkled at the knowledge that someone took the time with her.

“That’s because jasmine is not incredibly common in the perfume world, nor the botanical world. It’s a member of the olive family, although no one associates the two. Vanilla however is a far more common scent and is easier to use in bulk quantities to mask other fragrances.” He rambled. However unlike his colleagues, friends, family, and other women he had been interested in, she really seemed to appreciate his knowledge.

“Well, Dr. Reid, I always love learning new fun facts. Hopefully you’ll have some more for me when I come back out?” She looked towards him hopefully, and slowly turned to leave, keeping her eyes on him till the last second.

“Yeah. Definitely.” Spencer felt himself get giddy at the thought that she wanted to hear more fun facts when she came back. She wanted to come back. It almost felt to good to be true. He watched her ascend the stairs and get pulled into Hotch’s office before he returned to his paperwork. But the women of the bullpen and his team refused to let him forget that. Reid turned his face to where he felt the stares coming from and confusion twisted his features.

“What?” He was genuinely confused at their shocked faces. Emily’s jaw was on the floor, and JJ stared at him like he grew a second head. Penelope on the other hand just looked plain dumbfounded.

“What? What do you mean ‘what?’” Prentiss was the first to speak up.

“You talked with her.” Garcia spoke softly, trying to get over her shock.

“Well, she was nice and Morgan did kind of place her at my desk.” He tried to find himself lost within the papers on his desk, but it was in vain. Garcia marched her way over to his desk, and took the report out of Spencer’s hands to stare at him dead in the eye. He let out a noise of protest but that was overridden by the colorful woman’s own statement.

“Oh, you are smitten.” She stated so plainly.

“No! No, I’m not. Give me my report.” Spencer tried to take it from her hands but she stepped out of his way before he could take them back.

“His voice went up! 187 has got a crush on the mystery woman!” Her giddy tempo made the agent in front of her purse his lips in frustration. Reid stood up and tried once more to swipe the file, but was unsuccessful yet again.

“Garcia, give it back. I am not smitten nor do I have a crush.” He tried to protest, but even to him, his words sounded false.

“Oh, you are, my dear boy wonder. You’re blushing. I haven’t seen you blush in ages!” Penelope turned back to her female agents to gauge their reactions on her revelation. Spencer took this opportunity to take back his file with a snatch and go back to his desk.

“Spence, it’s fine to think she’s attractive. There’s nothing wrong with that.” JJ tried to reassure him in her motherly tone, but he still squirmed in his seat under the attention.

“I’m fine. There’s nothing going on. Sure, she’s pretty. But that’s it.” And with that, Spencer stuck his nose quite literally in the file that he was holding to get away from the scrutiny before him. However, he was unable to get away from it long, before he smelled jasmine’s again.

“I really appreciate you doing this dad. It means a lot to me.” Her voice carried through in the same way it had before. But now he was confused. Why was she calling Hotch dad? He only had one child, Jack.

“Anytime, honey. You need to come over for dinner at some point. Jack misses you, you know?” Now, everyone else’s attention was on the pair before them. Aaron’s hand helped her down the stairs and across the stair from her shoulders. He seemed to notice everyone’s eyes on them and turned before they made it out of the glass doors.

“Oh and this is, at least some of, my team that I was telling you about.” Everyone stood up to greet the woman standing near their unit chief.

“This is Emily Prentiss, Jennifer Jareau, Penelope Garcia, our tech analyst, and Dr. Spencer Reid.” Aaron introduced them one by one. And in that order, everyone shook her hands and greeted her with warm smiles and kind words.

“Doctor? What kind?” Her words held genuine intrigue, and Spencer could not help his smile from taking over his face.

“Um, the academic kind. I have three PhD’s.” A smile on her face overtook it in the same way it had his. Their eyes stayed locked onto each others, and neither felt the awkwardness of maintaining direct eye contact for that long.

“Everyone, this is my daughter.” He said her name, but everyone stopped for a moment and could not process this information. That hit everyone like a freight train.

“But, you don’t have any children other than Jack?” Garcia said so slowly that everyone could tell she was trying to wrap her head around the information before her.

“Well, when Haley and I were around seventeen, we got pregnant. But, realized that we were not in any capacity to take care of a child before we were out of high school or into adulthood. So we gave our daughter to a lovely couple that couldn’t conceive. We kept in contact and got regular updates throughout her life.” Aaron looked at his daughter with such adoration, everyone could see it.

“Now, she is about to finish up her second degree, and wants to go into law enforcement. Specifically, she’s thinking about joining the bureau and needed a letter of recommendation.” The words his boss said piqued Spencer’s interest.

“Second degree? What are the in?” He asked, trying to keep his voice level, but everyone could hear that tinge in it.

“My first was a PhD in criminal psychology, after getting a minor in psychology. Now I’m working on a BA in religious studies.” Reid was liking this girl more and more the more she talked.

“Oh, I could totally help with getting you into the bureau. I’ll give you my number and you just let me know when you put in your application. I can totally make sure you get into whatever department you want.” Garcia offered, her bubbly personality shining through her bright smile and fast hand movements.

“Garcia.” Hotch warned her with his tone.

“Totally legally, of course. I’m not doing anything that would jeopardize either one of our jobs. Nothing illegal, sir. Just want to help.” She stepped back just a little bit and held her hands in front of her to calm herself down.

“Well, I’ve gotta get going. I’ve still got work to do at home, but I’m hoping that I can see everyone here again.” She waved at everyone again, but stopped when she turned to the doctor in the room. Walking over, Spencer’s hands got all clams no matter how often he wiped them on his trousers. He could feel his heart beat out of his chest. Smelled her perfume getting closer. Jasmines and vanilla never seemed so enticing to him.

“I really want to continue our conversation from earlier. Maybe we can talk PhD’s or something similar. Here,” she handed a small card to him, “this is my number. Maybe we can meet for coffee sometime?” Hope laced her words, and Spencer felt giddy as he took the card from her hand. Their fingers brushed against each other and chose not to draw attention to the spark that flew.

“I’d really like that. Thank you.” He smiled at her, and ran his fingers over the ink on the business card in his hands. Aaron led her out of the glass doors afterwards, and everyone appeared to resume their work. Except, they did not. In fact, they watched Spencer return to his desk and set the card down within view.

“Pretty boy. My man!” Derek returned from where he watched the interaction with glee from the sidelines, and clapped the young agent on the back. This was now the second time today that he had done that.

“Spence got himself a date.” JJ sounded impressed and amused, and Morgan was eating it up. Beaming from ear to ear, he returned his attention to the man who just wanted to get some work done.

“Shut up.” Reid dismissed them quickly and it appeared to work. Although that may have also been because Hotch had just walked through the glass doors once more and no one wanted to be reprimanded today. All the agents dispersed, leaving the young doctor alone with his paperwork and thoughts.

However, his thoughts were overtaken when he could still smell that same perfume she had been wearing earlier. Spencer’s eyes drifted over to where that card laid perfectly against his desk. Bringing the card to his nose, he smelled perfume on it. It was still as intoxicating as when she was here. Setting it down, Reid turned back to his paperwork, and worked for the rest of the day in blissful silence. He knew that he would be smelling that perfume yet again, and soon.

“Scent is a potent wizard that transports you across thousands of miles and all the years you have lived.” Helen Keller

#spencer reid imagine #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x oc #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds #rebelliousstories

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utterlyotterlyx · 14 days

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The Fox and The Fawn

High Lord Eris x Rhys!Sister!Reader x Azriel

Part Two

Summary - As the ways of the world shift, you find yourself torn between those who have always cared for you and the life you feel like you were made to live.

Warnings - some angst, mentions to past trauma, fluff

Part One

The crescent moon scars peered out from the neckline of your nightgown, still raised and angry, threatening to split open in the hope of having their former partners restored.

It wasn't often that they caused you pain, and if they did, you had learnt to live with it, but there was a knot twisting around the muscle there and every movement was causing you to hiss and wince. After you had managed to lift yourself out of bed, you stood braced against one of the posters of the frame, eyes closed and inhaling deeply to halt the contractions pulsing around the area and shooting down your spine.

A gentle knock pulled your attention, the swirling pain striking hard and threatening to send you crumpling to the ground, "What's wrong?" Azriel appeared at your side, no doubt hearing the deep breaths and audible whimpers from the other side of the door.

Azriel's room was across the hall from your own, a silly decision on Rhys' part when you thought about the complicated relationship you shared with the Shadowsinger. It wasn't odd for you to enter your room at any point of the day to find him splayed across your bed or sat by the window, he'd always liked the comfort of your room more than his own.

"There's a knot in my shoulder, I can feel it moving," Azriel nodded in understanding and led you to the bathroom at a pace that was comfortable to you, helping you to sit on the edge of the tub before moving to your medicine cabinet.

Azriel knew where everything was in your room, he knew exactly where you kept the expensive ointments and where you kept the cheaper ones that Cassian would 'borrow' from you unknowing to the fact that you knew full well that he took your things. All you needed to do was mutter what you wanted and his shadows would slither back and tell him, moments later he would return with the item and a warm smile on his lips.

Soon enough Azriel had returned to you, tub in hand and glancing to your clothed back, "Do you mind if I lower it a little?"

Shaking your head, you caught the straps of your gown before they fell too far and exposed your chest to him. Azriel's touch feathered over the scar, and he could clearly see the muscle spasming beneath the skin, you entire body convulsing along with it. It was usually Mor that tended to you in these situations, but you didn't mind Azriel helping at all, you had seen the most gruesome parts of one another. An angry muscle was nothing.

The cream was cold against your skin but you leaned into it and the owner of its appearance, Azriel's fingers worked meticulously, applying pressure in just the right place to bring you untold relief but also a surging amount of pain. Azriel apologised softly as his fingers worked their way into the muscle, rolling small circles into the skin and wincing with you as you hissed in pain.

"I know it hurts. I'm sorry," his shadows had flowed over your shoulders, hugging themselves around your neck and purring softly in your ear.

Azriel always tried his best to be mindful of your loss, going as far as to tuck his large wings behind him as much as possible when you were around despite you telling him that it wasn't an issue. It was obvious how much you missed them from when you looked at his wings, or Cassian's, or Rhys', even Feyre and Nyx weren't safe from your gaze.

A few more minutes went by of Azriel's fingers rubbing into your skin and you weren't in pain anymore, it had floated away in the abyss and you exhaled from your mouth as his hands came to rest atop your shoulders, "Thank you."

"Of course," he glanced about the bathroom, "Do you need me to do anything else?"

"I should be fine, thank you."

The touch of his fingers were still on your bare shoulders and you could feel his gaze trailing down the thick waves of your messy morning hair to the large scars carved into your shoulders. Warmth spread across your skin as his digits lay unmoving on you and you turned your head to the side to capture his gaze, “Is everything alright?”

Pulling him from his trance, Azriel cleared his throat and took a step backward, bumping into the jagged edge of the tub with a dull thump, “Fine. Everything is fine,” it didn’t go unnoticed by you how his shadows had restrained his wings, pinning them behind his back, but before you could tell him to stop, to not hide from you, he had spoke, “I should go. Rhys is sending me on a mission with Nesta.”

You stood, pulling the thin strings of your nightgown back over your shoulders as you faced him, “You and Nesta?” Your voice echoed in the large bathroom, rattling against the windowpanes that were begging to be opened to allow the sweet sonnet of Velaris to reach you, “Why both of you?”

“I can’t say,” he couldn’t say? Or he didn’t know? “I just wanted to come and say goodbye.”

“And to tell me to watch my mouth whilst you’re gone?”

Azriel smirked, “That too,” he wound his arms around your waist and pulled you into him, swaying softly with you in his arms, “I’ll be back soon.”

Cedar was consuming you and you swayed with him, eyes fluttered closed and enjoying the contact of his arms around you, “Be careful,” it was all you could say to make him aware that you cared, he knew that too.

Pulling back from you slightly, he looked down on you, running his thumb along the curve of your jaw, “Always am,” he pressed his lips to your forehead, where your hair met the skin, and paced from the room, his shadows fighting to stay back for one more moment with you.

It was no coincidence that Rhys had decided to send both Azriel and Nesta on a joint mission, the two people closest to you suddenly being ordered away from the Night Court. Away from you. It was unsettling to say the least. Rhys had been keeping a wary eye on you since the morning Eris had left a few days ago, he had noticed how Eris had lingered around you that night at dinner, how the High Lord had unknowingly dressed in the same colours as you, and he didn’t like it one bit.

It felt like punishment, to force you into solitude for aiding Eris at that meeting. It wasn’t like you didn’t enjoy spending time with the rest of your family, or that you didn’t like them, it’s just that Azriel and Nesta understood you in the deepest way possible, from the intricate ticking of your mind, to your wit, to the abuse you had suffered and the darkness that lingered inside of your soul, tainting it with its inky mist.

The entirety of Prythian, whilst they knew of you, wouldn’t be able to pick you out in a crowd if it weren’t for your telltale eyes. It was always something that had bothered you, why exactly were you so hidden, like forbidden fruit born from a poison oak. To look at but never touch, to never be intrigued by, to never interact with unless they wished death upon themselves.

You were the last resort, the one Rhys would call upon if there was no other option. At first you believed it was because he truly wanted to keep you out of harms way, to protect you and the future of the court, but as time ticked away, it became glaringly obvious that protecting you wasn’t the reason for it at all.

Rhys was supposed to be the most powerful High Lord that Prythian had ever seen.

What would people think when they saw you, his lesser than sister unworthy of any true title, possessing power that even he found unfathomable?

Sure, Rhys could mist a portion of an army away with a lift of the finger, but you could decimate entire battlefields without even blinking if you so wished it. It wasn’t information he wanted to be common knowledge, so it wasn’t.

The reflection in the mirror was the perfect rendition of the mask you had worn your entire life, soft, elegant, naive, unknowing, it disguised the raging wildfire that consumed you daily, that begged to be unleashed, to devour the world in your fury and conform anyone who stood against you to ash.

A practiced smile fell onto your lips, your hands were neatly folded atop your form fitting plum purple skirt, and your shoulders dropped with a sigh. In that moment, as you stood before your reflection, dressed in fitted fabric of onyx and purple, did you realise how much better you looked in red.

The library had always been your sanctuary, perhaps that was the reason you and Nesta had become so close. She too sought out the comfort that only the library could provide, maybe it was the smell of worn parchment or the faint aroma of oak from the sturdy shelves, maybe it was how the light trickled through the stained glass windows or the comfort of the deep seated armchairs. Whatever it was, it definitely owned a part of you, of you both.

Nesta had found herself idly glancing at the titles on the shelves, it was the week after she had been Made, and one of the first moments she had left her bedroom since finding herself in Velaris. The eldest Archeron sister knew little of you, so little in fact that she didn’t realise you were Rhys’ sister until you told her.

You’d found Nesta in one of the many hidden pews of books, clutching a particular title between your fingers, she had looked awful back then with her hallowed cheeks and sickly pale skin, and she had commented on your inability to announce yourself, and you had told her that she better watch how she spoke to you in your home. Of course that meant that you would become close friends.

Silence swirled about you, a room that was usually rife with Nesta’s sharp humour and chatter about the books you had swapped with her was nothing but a wistful memory.

The library was off limits to everyone bar you and Nesta who came and went as you pleased, other members of the inner circle had to ask for special permission to enter the sanctuary you had made for yourselves. It was an uninterrupted space, a place of harmony and exploration.

Which is exactly why you scowled when you saw Lucien sat in your usual seat with his legs propped atop the vintage coffee table, sifting through pages of a random book he had removed from its perch without giving it much attention or care.

“Care to explain what you’re doing here, Lucien?”

Lucien glanced up at you then, cocking his head to the side and examining you. His mechanical eye whirred, filling the space, as his gaze narrowed in on you, “You look better in red,” his eyes moved to the space behind you which led to the open hallway with walls adorned with various portraits, namely one of yourself that Rhys had commissioned before the happenings of Amarantha, midnight purple wings and all; Lucien silently beckoned you inside with his stare and you closed the doors behind your entrance with a soft click.

Floating to the nearest open seat, a plush black armchair opposite him which homed a red wine velvet cushion, you waved your fingers and the atmosphere fell dense, “You can speak freely,” a shimmer clung to the air like speckles of glistening starlight, and Lucien knew that if anyone were to enter in search of you that they wouldn’t see anything but an empty room before their eyes.

Glamoured.

Lucien was by no means an unpleasant male to look at, he shared so many aspects with Eris, the elder brother than you could see in Lucien’s fire red hair and russet eyes, in his chiselled cheekbones and golden skin, even in the distant surveying glint in his eye. You didn’t know much about the Vanserra brother that resided in your city, but from what Feyre had told you, Lucien was trustworthy, one of the few males in the land she would always be able to count on.

Reaching into the back pocket of his deep brown briefs, Lucien held a piece of parchment before your narrowed eyes, turning it over in his fingers whilst contemplating whether or not to give it to you. Lucien knew little of you, only fragments of you from what Elain had told him in passing, but he had a feeling that you were much more than what you appeared to be. Such was obvious from the subtle notes he picked up from watching you converse with Eris a few evenings prior.

The parchment was rough under his touch, calloused paper that was singed at the edges. Lucien hadn’t dared to open it when it had appeared under his mug that morning with your name intricately scribed onto the folded surface, instead awaiting for his own note to appear, which it had moments later with strict instructions to make sure the note reached you no matter what.

“This is from Eris,” you sat up straighter in your seat, the once unbothered and passive stare now replaced with one of excited intrigue. He smirked.

Lucien held out the parchment to you, and you were ashamed at how fast you rose from your seat to claim it from your fingers. It smelt of him, of autumn pine and cinnamon, the same scent that had lingered on your skin since the morning he had left.

You sent him a sidelong glare and tried to keep your features as trained and neutral as possible, holding it lax in your fingers like you weren’t itching to flip it open and read away, “You know that Rhys would nail your balls to the wall if he knew you were giving this to me?”

Lucien hummed, grinning at you, “Yes. But something tells me that he’s not going to find out.”

Damn Lucien Vanserra and his keen eye, and damn you for allowing a sliver of your true nature to shine through for him to see.

Deep down you were a young girl in love with the idea of fated mates, of true love and happiness, of bright tomorrows and forevers, and it taken a lot of darkness to try and squash that hope that lingered within your soul. Centuries of believing that your power and name made you unlovable, to be feared only.

“What makes you think that?”

Lucien cocked his head to the side, looking you up and down, confirming to himself that there was no way that you would tell a soul, not even Nesta, “That hope I just saw in those eyes,” he rose from his seat and approached your position, “Perhaps it’s time for you to wake up,” he spoke in a tone that indicated that he knew something that you didn’t, many things actually.

Casting his gaze downward at the beautiful cursive rendition of your name, he spoke, “Write your response and will it back to him, it will dissipate into ash in your fingers and float to him in the wind.”

“Why have you delivered this?”

Lucien shrugged, “So many questions,” his voice trailed off, shoving his hands deep into his pockets he stepped toward the door, “Because y/n,” he turned from you, talking to you over his shoulder, “I think you’re the first person I’ve ever seen Eris be so openly kind to, do you know how hard it is for him to apologise about anything?”

Then he was done, and the moment he stepped out into the hallway the glamour dropped and you shivered at the sensation of it.

The portrait of you stared at him and he stopped before it, drinking in the beauty of the starlit backdrop and your wildfire ringed orbs that cut through the darkness like a beacon of enveloping safety. Lucien glanced back to you, noting how you stood in the room peering down at the parchment, turning it over in your hands and thinking about whether or not it was a good idea to indulge the new High Lord, “Life has its challenges, y/n. It’s up to you to decide if they’re worth the struggle.”

He spoke from knowledge, of his own truth, “Were they worth it to you?”

Lucien smiled fondly, no doubt casting his mind to his beautiful mate that breathed life back into his weathering essence, “Very much so.”

It had taken a lot of back and forth mental arguments to bring yourself to open Eris’ note. There was a delicious foreboding about it all that made it all the more tempting, Rhys would lose the reigns of his consciousness and submit himself to his own darkness if he knew.

But Lucien was right, there was no way that you were going to tell him.

With your heartbeat thundering in your chest, you slipped your thumb between the fold and flipped the note open.

Eris’ writing wasn’t as you thought it would be, you were expecting messy handwriting with little personable tone to the words, but how wrong you were, how wrong you were when you could hear that sultry whisky deep voice linger in every neatly curved word you read.

I apologise for putting you in the position of keeping something from your family, but I had to speak to you, and this is the only way I can.

Allowing your gaze to linger on the words, the paper rustled in the breeze from the open window, like Eris had sent the element to give you a little nudge. Reaching for a pen, you scribed your reply, watching the paper engulf in contained flame and the ash dance away in the wind, just as Lucien had said.

It’s not just yourself that you’re putting in danger. Poor Lucien for becoming entangled in another scandal.

A moment passed, and another piece of parchment appeared in your lap doused in his scent.

Any danger is worth even a mere second of your time.

Even if it means pissing off the most powerful High Lord in Prythian’s history?

Even then. But we both know that Rhysand isn’t the most powerful, don’t we Fawn?

Butterflies pulsed in your stomach at the name, you were by no means a fawn, but the sincere softness of it made your heart clench.

If you’re alluding to yourself then I’m afraid you’re severely mistaken, High Lord.

The paper vanished, reappearing again moments later and you could have sworn you could see Eris tucked away in the office of Fir Manor, dressed in an unbuttoned shirt and forest green briefs, hair tousled and smirking into the air with a quill resting between his digits.

This is perhaps the one and only time where I will happily be mistaken… and please, it’s Eris.

Do I not threaten you?

Should you?

You thought about it, there wasn’t a bone in your body that wished to be feared or appear as threatening, it was the role you had grown into, the one you had always played with little say in it, and it was like he knew that.

No, I shouldn’t.

The paper vanished and you waited a stretch for it to return, confiding yourself to staring at the starlit skies beyond the window and wonder where exactly Nesta and Azriel had been sent off to.

Where would Rhys have sent them? And why couldn’t Azriel tell you about it? Did he even know himself what the aim of his mission was? Did Nesta? Why had he chosen the two people closest to you and knowingly left you without someone to lean on?

I see the mask you wear. I see what it’s done to you. You’ve worn it for so long that you feel lost within it, as though the mask has consumed your light. I want to tell you to let the fire burn, to be yourself is the greatest gift you could ever give.

Who knew that the fox could speak with sentiment?

And, like you could hear the earthy chuckle through the inked words, you could practically hear him say,

There are many things that you don’t know about me, Little Fawn. Perhaps one day I’ll let you close enough to find out.

The ghost of his voice lingered around you, like faint whispers of a lover at sunrise.

No, you wouldn’t tell Rhys, or anyone for that matter about the oh so wrong pit burying itself into your gut, or about your nerves prickling with flaming desire.

Blood and loyalty be damned.

Authors Note

Hope you love this x

Feedback is, as always, appreciated

Taglist

@mybestfriendmademe @jesskidding3 @rosewood-cafe @fandomarchiveilyd @brujitafantomatico @crazylokonugget @mai-adaptive-dreams @magicstrengthandcourage @acourtofmoonlightandstars @ysmttty @lilah-asteria @circe143 @xyzmeh

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captainfern · 6 months

Text

141Rugby!au [18+]

• Part One - Pink Tape •

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick x fem!reader

•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•

You've recently started a new job as a physiotherapist for an English Rugby Union team. It's your job to ensure that all the players are in top shape for upcoming games against other strong teams. This job is absolutely perfect for you: good pay, good hours, a fun and exciting atmosphere to be apart of. But there's just one thing you can't seem to understand– the same four players seem to need more attention than the rest.

chapter summary - your introduction to the rugby union team and your new job as their physiotherapist. and the team winger ensures you have a warm welcome lol.

rating - 18+

wordcount - 7k

chapter warnings - fem!reader, slow-ish burn [but not really cause ik you're here for the porn], gaz has insane rizz in this, f!masturbation, oral [f!receiving], fingering?, praise, strong language

disclaimer - physiotherapist, or staff x player sexual relations are not allowed in the real world. but please keep in mind this is fanfiction. it's fake. if you have an issue with inappropriate relations with faculty, blurred morals [etc], then please do not read. additionally, reader be fucking in this series. all four. separately, and at once. it's not cheating, i promise. it's consensual sharing <3

Gaz is a winger, or wing – fast, agile and play on the "wing" or outside edges of the field. this position tends to score the greatest number of tries.

see my rugby union introductory for definitions of rugby words

part two ->

•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•

When you received the phone call that you had been hired by one of the best rugby union teams in England, you were overjoyed.

It was a dream come true to be a physiotherapist for a professional sports team, and although you were excited to be apart of such an incredible work environment, you were also excited to see a significantly higher amount of money enter your bank account on paydays.

Your first day, you woke up earlier than usual, a good twenty minutes before your alarm. Nerves swirled in your stomach as you got ready for the day, completing your usual morning routine and getting dressed. Putting on the team's colours, with staff across the back made a smile grow wide across your face. You stared at yourself in the mirror for a while, butterflies fluttering rapidly around your stomach as the time ticked closer to the start of your workday.

Before you headed out, you pulled out your phone and searched the team up one last time. You tapped on the first link, and then proceeded to find the team list that had every player and their statistics available to the public. Their age, height, weight, the amount of games they've played, the amount of tries they've scored. In most of the photos, the players were posing in ways that made you roll your eyes– pointing at the camera, shouting with a fist in the air, pointing at the logo on their jersey with a huge grin. You couldn't help but laugh a little.

As you scrolled, perched on the end of your bed, four specific players caught your attention, your thumb hovering over your screen before you could scroll on. There was just something about them that made them stand out, even when they looked similar to everyone else– the same shirt, same background in the photo, same layout of statistics between them.

The scrum-half was posing like many of the others– pointing dead at the camera, a cocky grin on his face. In the photograph, he had a freshly shaven mohawk, too, the sides trimmed neat and the strands on top sitting perfectly on top of his head, as though he had got himself all done-up for picture day. Even in the photograph, you could tell simply by the way he grinned at the camera that he'd be cocky on the field. All good scrum-halves were, to be fair.

The winger held a finger to his lips, shushing the camera with a slight quirk in his lips, as though he was trying not to laugh when the camera went off. He was the only player wearing a cap, one with a Union Jack printed on the front, and you wondered whether he was allowed to do that, or he somehow managed to just keep quiet and get away with it. What amazed you the most though was the sheer amount of tries he had for his age. He was one of the younger players of the team, but his try-count for the previous season was impressive.

The number eight made your eyebrows shoot up as you took in the sheer broadness of him. His shoulders barely fit into frame, and he had his arms crossed over his chest, making his biceps and pectorals grow bigger in front of the camera. He had a passive look on his face, dark blond hair recently cropped by the look of it, and one of his eyes was bruised and slightly swollen– a recent black eye. His arms were huge, one tattooed, and you couldn't help but stare a little longer at the expanse of his chest before scrolling on.

The flanker, and captain, was the fourth player that caught your attention, especially with his neatly-kept facial hair. Like the number eight, he had his arms folded across his chest and his face was void of a smile or a wink. He looked serious, definitely, and you wondered what kind of a captain he was to the rest of his team. He was in his late thirties and would be probably nearing retirement, but he had played a large number of games over the years, so his experience would be unmatched.

You looked up briefly at the small time at the top of your phone screen, and jumped to your feet when you realised that, holy shit, you had to go. It'd be so embarrassing if you were late on your first day of work.

Quickly, and with first-day nerves churning in your stomach, you grabbed your bag and all that you needed before sprinting out the door, the cool morning air kissing your skin as the sun peaked over the horizon.

•º•º•

Meeting the team was even more nerve-wracking than you thought. When you arrived, the coach welcomed you and gave you a rundown of all you needed to know about the players and other staff. He then introduced you to the other staff, assistant coaches, team physicians and nurses, sport directors and personal trainers. There were so many people that worked with this team behind the scenes, it almost made you feel a bit out of place.

Sure, you were qualified and literally one of the best sporting physiotherapists in the United Kingdom, but the idea of working with such an infamous team was making doubts worm into your head. You shook your head and took a deep breath as the coach led you into the main meeting room of the stadium, where the players talked strategy and game plan between games and during the off-season.

The room was full of players, nearly forty of them if you had to make an estimate. The main thirty-three, including the starting fifteen and the bench, as well as other players that looked to be recovering from injury or training to become apart of the main squad in the next season.

The murmur of conversation died down when you and the coach entered the room, and you suddenly felt incredibly self-conscious as all eyes fell onto you. The coach stood beside you, patting a comforting hand on your shoulder as he got his players attention with a short whistle.

"Lads, meet our new physio," he said, and then introduced you by name, urging you to smile and offer a polite wave to the crowd of sportsman sitting in front of you. The coach continued. "She's bloody good at her job, so she'll be able to get you lot into working shape quick as a flash. But, that doesn't mean you can go 'round acting like idiots and getting hurt by doing stupid shit–"

You laughed to yourself as the coach divulged into a very coach-like rant, grilling the players about looking after themselves and taking care of their bodies, especially with the start of the new season rapidly approaching. They all needed to be in top shape.

"And remember," the coach said, and then pointed at you. "Physiotherapists are not doctors or nurses, so don't be crying to her with a cut finger, got it? You roll an ankle or strain your neck, or something– god forbid– worse than that, then you make an appointment to see her, got it?"

There was a collective murmur of acknowledgment from the team, many eyes still focusing on you. You smiled politely, and thanked them for their time before the coach was gently leading you back out of the room and into the spacious hallway. The walls here were lined with photos and trophy cabinets detailing every win and award this team has ever had.

The coach shook your hand one last time. "It's a pleasure to have you on, miss. I appreciate you taking the job at such short notice, too. Our last physio..."

You stifled a laugh at the disbelief on the coach's face. "What?"

"Our last physio got scared off," the coach almost laughed. "She was an older lady, real nice too, and had been with us for a while. But we've got a new wave of younger players that do stupid shit and get themselves hurt, so she wasn't exactly happy when they'd turn up every day with a new muscle to be strapped up."

You laughed, shaking your head in disbelief. "How was she scared off? Surely a bunch of twenty-something year old union players aren't the scariest of people."

"You'd be surprised," the coach joked. "Nah, I'm kidding. She retired, but what I said is true. A lot of the younger players'll probably be knocking at your office door within the next couple of weeks, so prepare yourself for that. Most of them you can just give an icepack and send them on their way, though."

You smiled, nodding. "Right, sounds easy enough."

The coach smiled too. "You will probably have regulars, too, by the way. Players that have had pretty bad injuries that need weekly physio, but the info's all in your books. If you have any questions, come and find me. Or ask Price, I'm sure he'll help you."

"Price?"

"The captain. John," the coach said. "Most of the boys call him Price, or cap, but you can call him whatever you feel comfortable with."

You nodded, eyes drifting down the hallway, admiring the gleam of the silver and gold trophies stacked in trophy cases along the wall. You turned back to the coach. "Do a lot of the players have preferred names?"

"Some, yeah," the coach nodded. "But they'll tell you when you get to know them a bit more. And don't stress if you don't remember names within the first week or so. You have plenty of time to get used to it."

You smiled, the nerves in your stomach beginning to ease. "Thanks, coach."

After the talk in the hallway, the coach led you to your office, which had a large window overlooking the training grounds. The field was in immaculate condition, mowed to perfection with a light veil of due covering the grass. The white goalposts reflected a couple of fragments of golden, early-morning sunlight.

Your office was a good size, which surprised you. You had your desk and shelving units that were stocked full of books and folders, no doubt about each player's injury record for the past hundred-odd years. And on the other side of the room, the carpeted floor shifted to linoleum, cabinetry and a medical bed placed in the centre of it. There was a door beside it, no doubt leading to the cupboard where all your physio equipment would be kept.

"Is this alright?" The coach asked, gesturing to the room.

"Is this alright?" You said in slight disbelief, looking around the room. "This is amazing. Thank you so much."

The coach smiled again. "No worries. Come get me if you need anything but otherwise, good luck and have a great first day."

He left the room and allowed you to be alone with your thoughts for a moment. You took a deep, calming breath, taking a good look around the room. You then looked out the window, where the players were now jogging out onto the field for their first practise of the season. You smiled softly, watching them interact with each other, throwing balls and pushing the scrum-machine out onto the field.

The nerves in your tummy were almost completely gone now. You were going to be just fine.

•º•º•

Your first two weeks were eventful, especially when getting used to a whole new working environment. You spent most of the time researching current players injury history, particularly those who had repeat injuries, or injuries that required extensive physio over the season. A couple of sprained ankles, a few over-worked muscles in the back and shoulders, even a torn ACL which had been receiving extensive physiotherapy for the last one and a half years.

Early into your third week with the team is when you met Gaz.

He had sauntered into your office with the sun streaming through your window, the rest of the team out doing warm-up drills on the training field below. He smiled widely at you, flashing his perfect teeth, his dark eyes crinkling at the corners.

He wanted to make an appointment for a possible strain to his wrist. He emphasised that it had happened over the weekend after a bit too much to drink. You asked him to elaborate and he simply told you he fell out a window. A window.

"How on earth do you just fall out a window?" You asked, beginning to book his appointment on your computer.

He shrugged, eyes watching you carefully. "Not sure. Can't remember much."

"I thought you weren't meant to be drinking during the season?"

He smiled bashfully. "Yeah, I'm not. You're not going to tell coach, are you?"

He battered his eyelashes, and you rolled your eyes. "I won't. But I'll take a look at your wrist now, if you want."

Of course he wanted you too.

You deducted that it was simply a strain, and nothing that a good, tight bandaging won't fix. You bandaged him up and told him he was good to go.

"Will... will I need to come back to make sure it's healing well?"

"No," you told him. "It's a pretty simple strain. Just make sure to change the bandages, especially after training. You should only have to wear the bandages for a week or two."

"Uh..." He looked from his wrist, back to you. "I... I don't know how to wrap my own bandages."

You raised your brows. "Really? A rugby union player can't tape himself up?"

He shrugged. "Nope."

You sighed, shaking your head. How was it possible that a professional sports player couldn't wrap a simple sprain-wrap around his wrist?

"Fine," you conceded, patting him gently on the arm and slowly leading him towards your door. "I can change it after each practise, but you should definitely learn how to do it yourself, okay?"

Gaz beamed. "Thanks, doc."

"I'm not a doctor, Kyle," you said. "I'm a physio."

"Same thing," he smiled wider. "See you after practise, doc."

And that's what happened. For the next two weeks.

He claimed he just couldn't wrap it himself. It hurt too much, you see. You were the only one who could wrap it secure enough that he felt safe to play.

"I thought I told you to learn to do this yourself, Kyle." You said, wrapping fresh pink tape around his wrist, smoothing your fingers across his hand and lower arm in the process. It was just a few days after he initially came to you.

"You can call me Gaz, doc," he corrected, eyes watching your hands. He trailed the movement of your fingers, before his eyes shifted upwards and scanned your face. He watched you with his warm brown eyes as you fixed the strapping tape into place. "And I just can't seem to do it as well as you."

You scoffed. "Flattery isn't going to get you anywhere, Gaz. You need to learn to do simple strapping by yourself, got it?"

"Will you be proud of me when I finally learn?" Gaz joked, eyes still on your face as you finished strapping his wrist.

"Very," you said, pulling away and examining your handiwork. It was good, as usual. "Does that feel secure enough."

Gaz was still looking at you, his eyes drifting over your face as you looked down at his wrist. He hummed a reply, and that prompted you to look up and meet his gaze.

"Gaz?" You questioned. "Does that feel good?"

The warmth of your fingertips ghosted over the pink tape, and Gaz could feel the ticklish sensation beneath it, his skin warming beneath the bandage. "Oh, yeah," he blinked, then looked down at his wrist. "I– what–? Doc, pink tape?"

You smiled. "What's wrong with pink?"

"Nothing, nothing," Gaz shook his head. "Yeah, uh, that feels good. Thanks."

•º•º•

The very first game of the season came in your fourth week as the team's physiotherapist. It was against a team from Scotland, that had travelled down to play the team on English soil.

You found yourself skimming your teeth nervously along your nails, your stomach drawing tight and heart racing as you sat on the bench beside a couple of medics, their medical bags at their feet. The sky was a steely grey, the smell of rain lingering in the air and the wind picking up a tad, blowing icy wind across the field. No doubt, if the rain decided to fall today, the field would turn to mud.

The game was held in a much smaller stadium than usual, not like Twickenham in London that could fit upwards of 80,000 people. Nevertheless, the stands were packed full of whistling and cheering spectators. The shouting and waving of colourful flags increased when the teams jogged out onto the field in a line, and you found yourself clapping alongside the crowd. You found Gaz immediately, his wrist bound in white tape rather than the pink tape you had bound it in a couple of days ago. You smiled to yourself, realising that he had bandaged it up himself.

You hummed to the national anthem, too nervous to open your mouth and sing. You had watched this team play a million times before, but this was different. The anxieties were stacking up within your conscious, and you wondered whether it would have been better to have a strong drink before you came.

The game started and within minutes, Gaz had the ball. He avoided one, then two opposition players, before breaking into a sprint along the sideline. You watched him speed past the bench, the benched players up on their feet and cheering. But it was short lived– Gaz was spear-tackled by one of the Scottish players, tumbling off the field and skidding through the grass. The crowd and bench turned from cheering, to jeering.

You sprung to your feet to get a better look, watching as the Scottish player helped Gaz to his feet, giving him a firm slap on the back as Gaz handed him the ball. He looked pissed off as he jogged back onto the field as the Scottish players readied their lineout. You watched as he rubbed at his wrist, flexing his fingers a few times with a grimace on his face.

"Ah, shit..." you mumbled, noticing the way he held his wrist close to his body. Some of the bandaging was slowly peeling away, making you sigh through your nose. Maybe you should have just done it for him, for goodness sake.

England won the lineout, and the ball was passed rightwards through the team. The captain grabbed the ball from the air, taking it to ground as two Scottish players wrapped their arms around his legs and midriff. Other members of his team came to his aid, a ruck building as more and more players attempted to volley the ball back into their possession. But England held on, with Gaz spotting an opportunity when the ball was popped out of the ruck by the scrum-half with the mohawk.

Gaz broke into a sprint just as the scrum-half turned and saw him, throwing an impressive pass over the top of other players' heads. The entire bench let out a sound of astonishment when Gaz leaped, snatching the ball from the air with one hand and managing to hold onto it. The crowd erupted into cheers as the winger dodged one Scottish player, and then took off down the sideline once more.

Take two, and he seemed to be more successful– speed building until opposing players were dropping behind, unable to keep up as his legs blurred with his pace, grass kicked up behind him. He reached the try-line, diving through the air near the corner and slamming the ball down, his body sliding through the grass behind it. The crowd cheered louder, and so did the bench– and you, too. You were on your feet alongside the subbed players and the other medics, clapping as both the captain and the scrum-half ran up alongside Gaz, patting him on the back and the top of the head.

Sitting back down as one of the water-boys ran the tee out for the conversion, you looked up to find Gaz running towards the sideline, beckoning at you to come closer.

You scooped up your medical bag and met him just over the sideline.

"What's wrong?" You asked, and Gaz answered you by outstretching his arm, offering his wrist to you. The tape was beginning to peel off, brushing against his forearm, and Gaz's brows were pinched, jaw clenched.

"It's painful still?" You asked another question as you quickly began to unwrap the tape.

He nodded, wincing when you ripped the rest of the tape off, taking a couple of his arm hairs with it. You whispered an apology as you kneeled down, unzipping your bag and pulling out a fresh roll of injury tape– bright pink, of course. You heard him groan as you stood back up, and you couldn't help but laugh.

"What's with you and pink tape, doc?" He asked you, voice a bit hoarse. Probably from yelling at his fellow teammates over the past ten minutes. The boys all tended to just shout at each other when they wanted something done, which you found incredibly amusing.

"I like pink," you told him, making quick work of re-taping his wrist as the kicker lined up his kick and concentrated on his conversion. Your eyes flicked up to Gaz's face for a moment. "I thought you said you didn't mind me using pink tape?"

Gaz offered you a cheeky smile, and you realised the two of you were quite close. You could see the thin layer of sweat covering his dark skin, his face glistening beneath the strong overhead lights. He flashed his charming smile as he began slowing his breathing, moving out of puffs, the rise and fall of his chest calming. You could feel the warmth radiating off of him, and smell the light tang of sweat beneath his cologne.

You felt something flutter in your stomach as a smile stretched onto your face. It didn't last, and you immediately felt embarrassed– instead, you dropped your head back down and quickly finished strapping the bandage just as the kicker converted a successful two points.

"No, I like pink," Gaz said after a prolonged pause, eying you carefully as you stepped away and scooped your medical bag off the ground. "It reminds me of you, actually. And it might be my good luck charm, you never know."

You scoffed, shaking your head as you backed off the field. "Whatever, Garrick."

Gaz flashed his smile again. "If I score another try, it'll be because of this pink tape." Then, he winked and jogged back to where the game reset was taking place.

You found yourself shaking your head, smiling to yourself as you return to the bench. A good luck charm. Whatever.

•º•º•

A couple of hours later, you were back in your office, running through a few extra things before heading home. The team would have nearly finished celebrating their 31 – 14 win, and would soon begin to head home, ready for a new day of training in a couple of days time.

Typing one last report into your computer, there was a knock at your door. It opened, and Gaz stuck his head in.

"Hard at work, doc?" He asked, slipping into the room. He gently shut the door behind him, leaning up against it.

You smiled at him. "I'm finishing one last report, then I'm heading home for the night. Are you boys finished your celebrations?"

Gaz grinned. "Yeah, just about. Just thought I'd pop over and say thank you for redoing my bandages.”

You noticed he looked bashful when he said it, his eyes darting away from yours when the words left his mouth, roaming around your office. His eyes found the medical bed in the corner of the room, staring at it as he finished his sentence.

"It's okay, Gaz, don't worry," you told him, reassured him. "It's my job, anyway." You finished with a laugh, and his dark eyes found yours again. You began packing up your belongings when he shuffled further into the office, his wrist on full display. The pink tape was soggy and mud-stained, and you frowned at him when he held it out to you like a shy child showing they had broken something.

You didn't say anything. You didn't have too. You simply beckoned him towards you, urging him around the desk as you picked up a half-used roll of pink tape from one of your desk drawers. You made him peel the old bandage off.

"I don't understand how you got that so... wet," you remarked, casting a look of disgust at the old bandage now sitting in the waste-paper basket near the base of your desk. "This tape is meant to be water-proof."

Gaz barked out a quiet laugh. "It's probably got a bit of beer on it. And I did spend... you know, a bit of time in the shower, rinsing off the mud and all that."

"Right..." You mumbled, slowly wrapping the pink tape around his wrist.

The room fell into a comfortable silence, except for the low buzzing of the overhead light, and the distant voices from other players beginning to go home.

Gaz watched you silently, his eyes never once leaving your face as you wrapped his wrist. You felt the weight of his stare, the warmth of his gaze, and it made your body slowly begin to heat up, something tight pulling in the base of your gut. You ignored him at first, focussing solely on reapplying the tape. But when you had finished, you made the mistake of looking up and into his deep, dark eyes while still standing in close proximity with him.

His pupils had expanded, his eyes darting all over your face as you gently held his wrist. His fingers had grabbed hold of your arm, the searing heat of his fingertips making heat prickle on the back of your neck in nervousness.

"Does that feel secure?" You managed to whisper, throat drying. "I– does it feel–"

"You gonna let me kiss you, doc?" Gaz whispered an interruption thick with lust, his tongue darting out to swipe against his lower lip. "Please let me."

You bit your bottom lip, eyes scanning his face and waiting for him to tell you that he's joking. But it didn't come. Instead, you were left there, standing in a haze of his cologne and shampoo, his entire body radiating a warmth that made your legs begin to tremble.

"Kyle..." You murmured.

He groaned, eyes closing for just a second. "God, you're killing me here, doc."

"Gaz," you corrected, barely above a whisper. "I– we can't. I'll lose my job–"

"You won't," he responded instantaneously. "You... you won't, doc, I promise. Just... god, just one. Let me just–" he cut himself off with a low groan as he lowered his mouth to yours, brushing his lips so gently against yours that you weren't sure they even touched. He hummed, eyes fluttering shut as he spoke against your lips, his words ghosting across your face. "Just once... one kiss, that's– that's it."

He closed the gap all the way this time, slotting his mouth against yours with a hum from the back of his throat. You were still surprised, struck across the face with confusion as he moved his lips against yours, the warmth of his mouth making your brain short-circuit. His hands moved to cup your head, holding your face to him as he licked your bottom lip and attempted to slip his tongue into your mouth.

"God, you're so good." He whimpered against your mouth, before shoving his tongue further inside, yours meeting his with force.

But with a low whine, you stopped him– placing a hand to his chest and pushing him away. He grunted, breathing hard as he opened his eyes, leaning his forehead against yours. He dropped his arms, grasping at your hips instead, trying to bring you closer, but you resisted with a stab to your heart.

"We can't..." You breathed, slowly backing away. Gaz dropped his arms and watched you shift away from him, the corners of his mouth downturning.

Gaz exhaled with the tip of his tongue pressed to the inside of of his cheek. "I know."

"M'sorry–"

"Don't you dare apologise," Gaz said sternly. "I'm sorry. I'll... I'll see you later, doc. Have a good weekend."

You sighed. "Gaz–"

But he was already gone, closing the door softly behind him, leaving the rich smell of cologne in his wake, lingering around your office like incense.

•º•º•

You thought about the kiss the entirety of the weekend, and it was like it was eating you alive. Every time you got a message from the staff group chat, or an email from the coaching administration, your heart lurched out of your chest. Not because you were scared that you'd somehow been found out, but because seeing the name of the team pop up on your lock-screen make you think about him.

The winger. Gaz.

You couldn't help it– he was just so warm against you, his mouth soft and inviting as the solid, wet heat of his tongue slipped into your mouth and drew the breathiest of whimpers from you. Your body grew hot at the memory, and the memory of his hands on your face, holding you, cradling you as though you were the most perfect thing on earth. All for him, too.

You expected a wave of regret and humiliation to his you over the weekend break, but nothing came. The only thing that did come was, pun absolutely intended, you.

You just couldn't help it. The memories of the way he made you feel, how he felt, had been festering inside your brain long enough that it needed to be expelled someway. And that way was best fit for the later hours of the night, when you were curled up beneath the covers of your bed, your fingers teasing the wet hole of your cunt, another on your puffy clit.

You just couldn't help it. Rethinking the kiss again and again as you sunk two fingers inside yourself, pumping them at the phantom feeling of Gaz's lips against yours, the muscular plains of his chest and abdomen pushed up against the soft curves of your body, his hands keeping your face against his. He felt so good, smelt so good.

The noises slipped from your mouth as you fucked yourself with your fingers, the sheer amount of your arousal evident by the soft, wet squelches and the sensation of it rolling in pearls down your bare thighs. Your clit was so puffy, so sensitive, that you were coming around your fingers in barely a minute, moaning Gaz's name into the dark emptiness of your bedroom.

You needed him. So bad.

And that's why you called him the following morning. Why you picked up your phone, still in bed with your blankets bunched around you, and dialled his number. Why you waited patiently until he replied with a deep, sleep-clogged voice and why you invited him over. Why you got excited when he accepted almost right away, and why you showered with your heart thrumming, buzzing, racing in your chest. Why you answered your door with a bright smile and allowed him to crowd you back into the entrance hall of your flat, closing and locking the door behind him. Why you let him back you against the wall, his hands straight away grabbing your face, fingers warm on your soft skin, and especially why you let him slot his mouth against yours.

You weren't thinking about anything but him at that point. Not about your job, the coach, the captain or any other player. You were thinking of Gaz, the winger, the rugby union player that was currently dropping to his knees in front of you and pulling your trousers down with him. He kissed your bare legs as he helped wriggle your trousers away from your ankles, kissing the sides of your knees as his hands roamed up your legs.

His face trailed up your inner thighs, dragging his nose against the smooth skin, eyes flicking from your clothed core to your pretty face. You partially gaped down at him, chest heaving, your palms flat against the wall to ground yourself. Gaz's mouth found your core through your underwear, already soaking the fabric, and he nudged it with the point of his nose, catching on your clit. He smiled against you as he pressed a kiss to your clothed cunt, and you rewarded him with a pretty little moan that echoed through your quiet flat.

"Mm, jus' so wet already," he said it as though he was in genuine disbelief, but the smile never left his face as he placed another hot kiss to the underside of your underwear, his hands now kneading the fat of your arsecheeks, pushing you away from the wall and closer to him. "Soakin' these pretty little things, hm? Don't want to ruin them, do we, baby?"

You mewled down at him, one of your hands settling on his shoulder as he gently shifted your underwear to the side, exposing your glistening core. He groaned, low and breathy, eyes transfixed on where your leaking hole clenched around nothing, your clit sitting all pretty between your puffy lips. He groaned again, pushing you closer to him and settling his face right up between your legs, his mouth immediately attaching to your clit.

He sucked it into his mouth with a gentle scrape of his teeth, a scrape that sent bolts of electricity through your system, your back arching off the wall as Gaz's hands returned to your arse, groping. You could vaguely feel your underwear pushed into the crevice of your thigh, but you weren't focussing on that– you were focussing on the way Gaz circled your clit with his tongue, before he dragged his tongue through your wet folds and around your hole.

You moaned loudly, and Gaz hummed in response against you, his tongue running in tight circles around your slick hole, licking over it. The sensations were making your body light up, fiery hot pleasure coursing through your veins and you were worried that you were going to come before he even put his tongue inside you. You gripped at his shoulder as finally, finally, he slipped his tongue inside you, a loud whine ripping from his throat.

You could barely keep your eyes open, trying desperately to remain eye-contact as he held your gaze, tongue moving in and out of you, lapping up each drip of your arousal. He was vocal, too– grunting and whining as his tongue moved, his lower-face no doubt drenched. His hands gripped at the flesh of your arse like it was his lifeline, his fingers squeezing and releasing, squeezing and releasing each time his tongue licked into you.

The world around you was spinning, the morning light streaming in from the small window above your front door. You can't believe you were in this situation. But here you were– leaning against the wall of your hallway, one of England's best rugby union winger's gripping your arse, his face buried between your legs and eating you out the best you'd ever had.

"Gaz, Gaz, oh my god–" You whispered, honeyed with your on-coming orgasm. It was building, burning hot inside you, slowing the thoughts of your brain and forcing you to hone in on the feel of Gaz's solid, wet tongue inside your cunt.

He only broke the movements of his tongue for a moment, his nose still nudging your swollen clit. "Tha's a good girl, baby. Say my name while you're comin' round my tongue." Then, his tongue was back inside you, thrusting in so deep that stars burst behind your pupils and your body wracked with shudders.

You came, moaning out a blissful "Gaz–!" as your orgasm washed over you– no, slammed over you. You gushed around him, your legs trembling in his hold, sweat beading along your hairline as the warmth overtook you. You moaned out again, stretched around a desperate whine, as he licked you through it, sucking up as much of your arousal as he could before he reluctantly pulled away, placing one last kiss to your clit before sliding your underwear back into place.

His entire lower face was wet, glistening with you. You groaned, shutting your eyes as he got to his feet and proceeded to kiss you, rubbing your slick all over your face as well. He smiled into your mouth, tongue probing for yours, meeting it and passing on more of your slick. You moaned, and he moaned too.

"Been wanting to do that for so long," Gaz said in between kisses, his hands on your hips now, rubbing you against his front. You could feel the tent growing in his trousers, and a whimper escaped you. He dragged his mouth down your neck, sucking and biting and licking, spreading more of your sticky arousal across your bare skin. "Pretty little thing she is too, isn't she?"

One of his hands dragged down between your legs as he said that, fingers rubbing through your folds over your soaked underwear. You whimpered, and he hummed, increasing his speed. He still didn't move your underwear, just kept rubbing at your wet, puffy clit with his fingers, his hand moving back and forth between your legs.

"I– I take it your wrist is all better now?" You questioned him, almost out of breath as he rubbed your clit. He was using his injured wrist, the pink tape still visible working between your thighs.

Gaz smiled against your neck. "I had a great physio, didn't I? The best physio..." he increased the speed of his fingers, rubbing you quicker, circling your clit. Your arousal was further dampening your underwear, small whimpers falling from your lips, overstimulation creeping up. Gaz licked at the pulse point behind your ear. "You're just so good, doc. Such a good girl. So fuckin' good letting me play with this pretty pussy, hm? So fuckin' good."

You mewled, turning your head so you could kiss him. This time, it was your tongue shoving into his mouth, and he moaned quietly around your tongue as your lips moved together. His fingers sped up, circles deepening.

"M'gonna come, Gaz..." You whispered, and he shushed you with a kiss. When he pulled away, he did so with a low whine, eyes raking down your body, absorbing each and every little bit of you with his dark eyes.

"You can come, baby," he told you softly. "Come in these pretty things–" he punctuated his sentence by pinching at the fabric of your underwear, pulling it back and letting it slap against your clit, before resuming his previous movements. "–and ruin them for me, yeah? Come all over them and I'll take them home, how's that sound?"

You moaned loudly, clawing at his clothed back.

He chuckled deeply. "Yeah? You like the thought of me takin' these home and wrappin' them around my cock? Hm? Want me to fuck them while thinking about this pretty pussy? O'course you do, doc, cause you're just such a good girl for me. So good, 'n such a good fuckin' pussy too."

That made you come– slick flooding the gusset of your underwear, soaking through and dampening his fingers. He hummed, pleased, against you, his mouth roving over your neck and jaw again as you came. You were breathing hard, and the weight of Gaz's hard cock was making you even more breathless, pushed up between your thighs.

Heaven on earth, it felt like.

But it ended all to soon. Way to fucking soon. Gaz's phone began ringing in his pocket, and he fished it out with his fingers still tacky with your arousal. He kept you pinned to the wall with his body as his eyes swept over his phone screen and he sighed, showing you the screen too. It was the coach, and he mouthed an apology as he answered.

The phone call felt like it went on for an eternity (it was probably just over a minute) and you watched as Gaz's brows drew together in frustration. When he hung up, he angrily shoved his phone back into his pocket and rested his head against your shoulder, groaning as his hands circled your hips, massaging the pliable flesh there.

"What's wrong?" You asked, and he groaned into your neck again.

"I forgot I had sprint training today."

"Oh..."

"Yeah... fuck, m'sorry–"

"Don't apologise," you said, taking his head into your hands. "You need to stay at the top of your game, don't you? And you don't want to make coach mad, either."

"S'pose you're right," he mumbled, and then leaned in to press a quick kiss to your lips. "See you tomorrow?"

You smiled. "See you tomorrow."

•º•º•

When you got to work the next day, you found a new set of folders on your desk. Placing your belongings down, you picked up the next folder, which had a new patient for you to begin working with, who had received a small injury during the last game that had gotten a bit worse over the weekend.

Your mind was still lingering on thoughts of your and Gaz's encounter yesterday morning, but you picked up and opened the file anyway, intent on not letting sex, and that handsome winger, distract you from doing your job.

"Pulled muscle in the calf, hopefully not a tear..." You read through the file. You flipped the file shut, reading the name on the front. "MacTavish, nicknamed Soap," you laughed. "What kind of name is Soap?"

•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•

my first chapter of this series. let me know what you thought, and stay tuned for the next one !!

#captainfern #141rugby!au #call of duty #call of duty mw2 #fem reader #kyle gaz garrick #cod smut #cod gaz #gaz x female reader #gaz call of duty #gaz smut

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ectoentity · 2 months

Text

So, the Haunting Heroes server did a Who Wrote That game with the theme of "wingfic" a while back. I did an entry and I liked it enough that I decided to expand on it. Gonna start posting scenes here whenever I get them done, and eventually piece it together for ao3. This first part is the intro, but the rest probably won't actually be in order.

Update Mar 11, 2024: Here is the Subscription Post

Ectoplasm Gives You Wings

(Working title)

DPxDC, T-rated genfic.

Everyone knew ghosts had wings. It was in every ghost story throughout history, regardless of culture. It was one of their defining traits, like going through walls or fading into invisibility. The unquiet dead soared through the night on birdlike wings, occasionally leaving unnaturally large feathers as an omen of impending death.

As soon as the newly-working portal spat Danny out, he knew there would be no hiding what had happened. His ghostly form came with a pair of large wings that didn't go away when he turned back human. In his ghost form, they were mostly black with bars of white near the bottom edge. The reverse was true when he was human. It was an indication of what had happened to him that he couldn't escape.

Tucker and Sam tried to play it off to his parents as a meta mutation that had suddenly appeared. They'd heard of it happening before on TV and through the internet. Besides, there were winged people in the Justice League. Danny's parents had never talked about them being secret ghosts.

Danny would never forget his parents' horrified faces as they came downstairs and found him. The way their eyes skipped over his face entirely and focused on the wings behind him. His dad frozen in place, expression slack with shock. His mom's face going from horror to determination as she set her jaw and reached for a bazooka.

Danny and his friends managed to escape them and run all the way to Tucker's house. Running was harder with a new pair of limbs hanging off his back like so much dead (hah) weight. It was clear that Danny couldn't stay here. His parents might be cranks, but once they realized the portal worked they would have evidence to prove Danny was a ghost. At least, sort of. Would they try to experiment on him, or just try to help him pass on? Danny assumed it would be the latter, but he had also assumed his mom wouldn't ever draw a weapon on him.

Tucker and Sam helped him to pack a camping backpack full of spare clothes he'd left at Tucker's, a handful of important essentials like a first aid kit, and a sleeping bag. They left for a while and came back with a cheap cellphone, a handful of prepaid phone cards, and a surprising amount of cash. Who would have thought Sam was secretly loaded?

They argued all night about where he should go. Danny barely knew his Dad's side of the family, let alone whether they'd take him in. His mom's sister Alicia was somewhere in Arkansas, but Danny couldn't remember the name of the town. Besides, he hadn't seen her since he was about nine. What if she believed Maddie over him? Tucker and Sam suggested their own family members. Danny turned them down. He didn't want to be a burden to his friends' families.

In the end, they decided that he would blend in best in a big city far away from Amity. The next day, Danny climbed on a Greyhound bus headed to the East Coast. He couldn't hide the wings, no matter what he did. The best he could do was wrap the sleeping bag around himself like a blanket. Thankfully, no one on the bus seemed to care. They all had their own issues to worry about. Most seemed content to watch their phones or the scenery instead of looking too closely at the weird kid wrapped in a big, lumpy sleeping bag.

As the hours dragged on, Danny was increasingly greatful that everyone was minding their own business. There was something else wrong with him. His hands kept slipping through the sleeping bag. Going through solid objects, like a ghost.

The plan was to find a place in Metropolis that provided resources to meta kids. But by the time the bus reached Gotham Danny was exhausted and anxious. His hands had started to go through things. What if he went straight through the bus while it was driving? He had to get a handle on this. He could always go to Metropolis the next day.

Danny got off the bus. The city around him was gray and dreary, from the concrete sidewalks up to the cloud-covered sky. It felt like the sky was too close, more of a ceiling than an open expanse. Something about it gave Danny a strangely claustrophobic feeling. He tried to shrug it off as the lack of sleep catching up to him. The last time Danny slept was the night before the portal accident. That had been well over twenty-four hours ago. He needed to find a safe place to sleep.

#dpxdc #wingfic #my writing #t's writing #EGYW

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smallnico · 1 month

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durge desensitizes to casual positive affection and friendship compilation

also known as real feline durge hours. esper's companions look at them and say Is Anyone Gonna Manhandle That Murderous Twink and then not wait for an answer. contexts/explanations under readmore for the curious

lae'zel and esper do morning exercises and meditation together. most of the time they pass the time in silence, but sometimes they're joined by the local wildlife. esper is a great fan of showing their friends things they might find interesting as a form of affection instead of words, especially with lae'zel, since they have a common discomfort with small talk.

esper doesn't like looking at themself in the mirror, so their makeup is always ancient and haphazardly applied, a fact that distresses the more image-conscientious shadowheart. she and esper have a sibling-like relationship fuelled by mutual amnesia and goth solidarity, among other things, but sometimes a sister has to take it upon herself to fix her stinky sibling's wings.

i already expanded on wyll and esper's dynamic a bit in this piece and i didn't feel like drawing the same thing twice, but suffice it to say, they have absolutely no idea how to talk to each other, but still look out for each other. the joke here is about how i've done a couple of long rests in-game with just alcohol i've found. hey 5 camp supplies is 5 camp supplies

jaheira unearths esper's forgotten mother issues. no real things to add here. no thoughts only cub.

gale said way back in act 1 that esper reminded him of tara, and esper isn't leaning into that on purpose per se, but as i said for lae'zel, they like getting their friends things those friends might enjoy. they also love chaos. show your evocation wizard some love by bringing him extremely destructive spells to play with. show your durge some love by casting chain lightning and letting them watch

i have no justification for this one lmao. esper isn't a Huge fan of being picked up and hefted around like a sack of oats, but maybe they should've thought of that before being small and scoop-uppable. socially, esper and halsin don't click especially well, but esper is fundamentally a creature, and therefore pretty easy for halsin to understand. obviously they don't mind that much :J

esper and karlach voted two most touch-starved nerds in faerun, they help each other cope by sleeping in a cuddle pile like cats. karlach runs warm even after getting her engine tuned up, but esper doesn't mind. she's cozy

astarion is by far the person esper is the most verbal with, probably because he's the only one who really thinks the durgeisms that slip out are funny and #relatable. everyone else errs on the side of caution with esper, but astarion knows he's allowed to take liberties with them, and he does. they have the same sense of humour. these two freaks are completely insufferable together because they're vibing so hard on a level incomprehensible to everyone around them, but astarion can put a stop to esper's self-destructive internal stress engine, and esper can drag him into helping and working hard. the others have no choice but to tolerate them as a couple because no matter how unhinged they are as a unit, they're so much worse for society on the whole as individuals. do not separate them

if you read all this, hope you enjoyed this illumination of esper's party dynamics, i love you <3 enjoy

#smallnico art #baldur's gate 3 #the dark urge #bg3 #bg3 dark urge #bg3 lae'zel #bg3 shadowheart #bg3 wyll #bg3 jaheira #bg3 gale #bg3 halsin #bg3 karlach #bg3 astarion #bg3 companions #esper #smallnioc #bg3 comic #durgeposting

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halcyone-of-the-sea · 8 months

Note

BRO I'VE BEEN HOLDING BACK CAUSE I THOUGHT YOU'D ALREADY HAVE TOO MANP CAP. MACTAVISH REQUESTS I-

I'm here to rectify this issue immediately, how about one with him and the reader being soft? something bout seeing this rugged man melt when he comes home to his darling just egIUAfosnkew IT'S SO SWEET

—Look At The Stars; Look At Me

⇢ ˗ˏˋ 5k Drabble Masterlist ࿐ྂ

╰┈➤ ❝ [Stargazing in the middle of an overgrown and wild glade.] ❞

You breathe slowly, eyes gazing longingly far above you at the twinkling lights. They take up your pupils in the low glow of the moon—the dots of those far-off globes of hydrogen and helium shining bright.

The glade behind the hidden forest home is filled with the scent of wildflowers, grass, and the grind of fresh earth; it captures your nostrils as the fireflies come out to dance on iridescent wings. Under you, John’s blanket lets you be just the tiniest bit closer to him for the moment, limbs loose, sleep-clothes compliant to the flow of the breeze as it spreads a whisper through the leaves.

A deer snorts downwind, a low call over the air that can be felt in the gentle quiet. Crickets creak like the old floorboards of a lived-in home. You’re eased by the knowledge that, as your Lover drives back to this place—back to you—he’s under the same stars as the ones you gawk at in the skin of an awe-drunk woman who loves him more than even this.

A car pulls down the worn-grass road, and you hear the brakes lightly squeak on that shitty rental, a smile twitches along your face, but you don’t move.

He knows where to find you this late; knows you wouldn’t go to sleep when he’d called you not two hours earlier to say he’s back.

The both of you are stubborn and know the other more than a priest knows his own God.

A soft whistle lets you know he’ll be there in a moment, coming from behind the treeline before the sound of a car door getting closed echoes. The birds pause for a moment, though not seconds later they re-start their bedtime symphonies.

There’s a rustling, and your heart picks up the pace gradually, excitement making your lips peel slowly back into a wide smile as you gaze at the Herdsman and his glittering Arcturus star. Painting pictures in your mind, you think of the untold number of things he’s seen from his deep-space throne as your lover returns like a lumbering hound, already hearing his large sigh at the sight of you.

You don’t shift your gaze until an accented comment makes you chuckle.

“Bit of a cold night to be doin’ this,” John’s face peaks into your field of view, leaning above you with his arms crossed—one of those dark brows raised.

He looks worse for wear with a big bruise over the left side of his jaw, and medical tape on his dark eyebrow ridge. The scar is still there, over his left eye; his orbs that continue to glint more than the stars ever could in your gaze.

You hum in your throat, blinking up at him with a tilted nose.

“What?” Your voice makes the hardness of his face dim, a small sigh through his nostrils as if he could never truly get out of that version of himself without hearing you speak first. “Did you expect me to miss a view like this?”

He scoffs, tilting his head. “I’m not that much of an idiot. Move it.”

You smile widely, staying directly in the middle of his blanket as a smirk slashes the Captain’s lips, his blues deepening. A bird darts away from above his head.

“Already misbehaving, then? Not a good start, Little Lady.”

“I was here first, MacTavish.” He makes an amused noise in his throat, moving his hands from his arms to grasp under yours. You squeal, laughing loudly as he drags you up with a low chuckle into his large shirt and tucked pants.

“Aye, you were here first,” he brings you up into his arms—a bridal hold that leads you to wrap your arms around his neck as you shake with glee, burying your head into his flesh. “Never said you weren’t.” Lips whisper into your ear and he can feel your smile as it spreads against him. “But you’ve got to pick your battles wisely, eh? I’m the one who can carry you on my arm.”

You kiss his neck a few times, quick kisses in between mutterings of love; his beard shifts as he lets a small smile, amusement lingering yet dimming for something far more important. The word seems more alive than it had moments ago, but that’s not a bad thing. No, not at all.

“What’s the point of interest tonight, then?” He slips off his boots and walks you back onto the blanket, smoothing it out with his foot before he grunts and settles down—you in his lap. “I’ve lost where we were last time.”

“The Herdsman, John,” you remind gently, pushing on his chest so he lays back with no argument, shifting you into the crook of his right arm as it circles you. He gently squeezes and presses you tighter.

On his chest you place your head, arm snaking around his waist to suck in his warmth with a soft sigh.

“Ah, that’s right. Herdsman.”

He kisses your forehead, digging his nose into you and closing his eyes softly. None of the stars could compare to the one in his arms—he’ll leave the gazing to you in the meantime.

Your body in the gap between his arm was all he needed.

TAGS:

@luuvbuzz, @emerald-valkyrie, @anna-banana27, @blueoorchid, @cryingnotcrying, @writeforfandoms, @homicidal-slvt, @jade-jax, @frazie99, @elmoees, @littlemisstrouble, @alpineswinter, @phoenixhalliwell, @idocarealot, @lavalleon, @facelessmemories, @h-leigh, @20forty9, @glitter-anon-asks, @emily-who-killed-a-man, @neelehksttr, @aeneanc, @escapefromrealitysm, @i-d-1-0-t, @pparcxysm, @hawkscanendme, @caramlizedtomatos, @waves-against-a-cliff, @sanfransolomitatm, @maelstrom007, @jemandderkeinenusernamenfindet, @pheobees, @glitterypirateduck, @uselsshuman, @fan-of-encouragement, @halfmoth-halfman, @ghostlythunderbird, @I-inkage, @pukbadger, @kopatych11, @0nceinabluem00n, @cocrorapop, @knightofsexyness, @abnormalgeil, @smallseastone, @jacegons, @330bpm-whiplash, @simon-rileys-housewife, @4-atsu, @tiredmetalenthusiast

#cod #cod x reader #cod x you #call of duty #x female reader #call of duty x you #captain mactavish x reader #captain mactavish #captain john mactavish #john mactavish x you #john soap mactavish #john mactavish x reader #soap call of duty #soap mactavish #soap cod #soap x reader #x fem!reader #john mactavish

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creative-crybaby · 1 year

Text

Phantom Limbs

PAIRING: Takami Keigo (Hawks) x fem!reader

GENRE: angst | comfort | smut (18+)

Minors DNI

TAGS + WARNINGS: dry humping, nipple play, spit play, light manhandling, hair pulling, creampie, overstimulation, marking (scratches)

Let me know if I missed anything.

WORD COUNT: 3.7k

SUMMARY: Having lost his wings, there's only so much Takami can do to help other heroes and save innocent civilians. And with him having even less time on his hands, you do whatever you can to take care of him.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Posting on my birthday is like a little gift from me to me :)

You wait by the windows out of habit.

The book in your hand has remained open on the same page for the past fifteen minutes, your eyes reading the words, but your brain too distracted to process them. Your focus is more on the corners of your peripheral vision, hoping to catch something, anything outside. All that’s offered in the great outdoors is grey skies and an even greyer atmosphere. Though, you suppose you should know better by now.

Because, as of late, he’s been entering your shared home through the front door.

The sound of the jiggling knob has you up from your seat in a second; you slam your book shut and toss it onto the coffee table (never mind saving your page). You’re at the entrance when the door fully opens, anxiously shifting your weight from one foot to the other.

Takami’s eyes widen ever so slightly at your rushed movements, but he then exhales as he kicks off his boots.

“Honey, I’m home,” the Pro Hero quips, though his tone and smile lack his usual energy. You greet him back while helping him remove his jacket, the material cold and damp in your hands. You get a better look at him once you turn back to him. With the harsh weather and being outside for who knows how long, it’s only natural for him to deal with those conditions’ blunt force. Soaked to the bone, he shivers, though you can tell he’s trying to stop his movements. His blonde hair is now a dark gold from the rain, stray strands sticking to his forehead. It’s a miracle his skin isn’t blue, but he’s definitely a few shades too pale. And his eyes—they haven’t known rest even before the Paranormal Liberation War, but dealing with the aftermaths of such a tragedy takes its toll even on the strongest of heroes.

You gently rest your hand on his cheek, your thumb lovingly caressing the new scar on his skin. “What are you doing out there?”

Takami sighs, relaxing in your hold before shifting his head to peck your palm. “Oh, the usual.”

You’d press for more if the look he gave you weren’t one of exhaustion, almost pleading. Instead, you rake the fingers of your free hand through his hair, careful not to tug on any knots.

“How about a shower?” you hum. “I’ll even help you out.”

The blonde mumbles something in agreement, seemingly too low on energy for any more words, before following you to the bathroom.

Several months back in your relationship, you’d struggle to have him in your home, what with his gigantic wings. He’d rarely knock over your belongings due to his cautiousness, but it didn’t change that your apartment wasn’t Wing-Hero-friendly.

That was the least of your problems when he decided to stay over. Your bed wasn’t big enough for the two of you, and you’d wake up in the morning to find his wings positioned uncomfortably. Even when Hawks would dismiss your concern, you weren’t fooled. But going from queen-sized to king-sized wasn’t an issue compared to your bathroom. Even sharing the space with a wingless person was bound to have you two bump into each other, and yet, your boyfriend made himself at home.

With your apartment now nothing more than a pile of rubble, all those concerns seem foolish, almost cruel, as you actually went out of your way to get a larger bed for him.

What’s crueller is that a smaller space would no longer be an issue now that his wings are gone.

You can’t help but think about all of this bitterly every time you two enter the shower. The one in Takami’s home is far bigger, made to accommodate his wings, but it’s all just empty space. He settles on the shower stool with a heavy exhale, and you stand behind him to wash his hair, letting the warm water wash away whatever pessimistic thoughts crawl back to taunt you. At least you can take comfort in seeing the Pro Hero visibly relax under your touch, tilting his head back as your fingers thoroughly massage his scalp.

You’re extra careful when washing his body. The scar on his back makes you pause before resuming your task, and while the blonde notices your hesitance, he doesn’t comment. It’s not the only mark on his body, but it’s certainly the largest. Maybe one day, you’ll come to pepper the area with kisses as you would with all the other scars that litter his body. For now, knowing how it ended up on him hits you with the anxieties of “what if.”

Having kept your hair up and out of the way, you cover yourself in a towel before assisting your boyfriend out of the shower. He wraps a towel around his hips and sighs a silent thank you before you take his hand and lead him to your bedroom. It’s all either of you say for a while, even while you dry his hair with him settled in front of you, between your thighs and facing away.

The hot water flushes his skin, a sight that helps you relax as you run a towel through his locks. You let it rest around his neck once you’re done, leaning forward to wrap your arms around his torso.

“Want me to make you something to eat?” you ask quietly. “You must be starving.”

“I’m okay,” he hums. Your fingers skate across the blonde’s abdomen, drawing random shapes and patterns and making him shiver. “I just want to stay like this for a bit longer.”

You shift your head to rest your chin on his shoulder, the fluffy material of the towel tickling your skin. “Then let me get you some clothes so you don’t catch a cold.”

The Pro Hero gently removes himself from your embrace, turning to face you. Your wrists remain in his grasp, and he brings them to his lips to kiss both of your palms.

“That won’t be necessary,” he mumbles against your skin, eyes fluttering closed. “Stay.”

His voice has a light rasp, and you’re sure you catch the subtle pleading in his tone. You sigh, sliding your hands to caress his face. Takami’s eyes open again, golden irises peering up at you as his brows furrow lightly. There’s a gentle tug to his hold, and you shift closer to him.

“So much for all that time to kill,” you try to quip, though you don’t find your tone convincing. For good measure, you trace his jaw with featherlight kisses. “Even with the Safety Commission out of the way, you can’t catch a break.”

He chuckles airily. “It was never going to be all that simple, dove. You and I both know that.”

You pout at his words. The pull of his grasp reappears, and you’re brought closer to your boyfriend until you’re almost sitting on his lap. One of his hands slides to your waist, encouraging you to do so. You obey, loosely wrapping your arms around his neck. Back when he had his wings, your fingertips would graze their base, earning you breathy moans from him. With them now gone, you settle for lightly scratching at his undercut.

“Must be exhausted with everything going on,” you whisper, the tip of your nose gently grazing against his.

“Coming home to you makes it all worth it,” Takami breathes before closing the gap. You both exhale into the kiss as you pull each other closer. Even with a towel in the way, he runs his hands up and down your torso, opting to feel you as much as possible. Once you’ve removed yourself from the embrace, he still attaches his lips to any exposed skin he can find.

“Keigo,” you whimper, trying to hold still as he nibbles on your neck. “Are you sure? You need rest.”

You feel the Pro Hero shake his head without pausing the assault on the skin. “I need you.”

Even before destruction fell upon the country, you’ve worried for Takami’s safety. With his wings, he could reach the clouds; any higher could take the oxygen out of his lungs. He’s capable, but also human: even the overly glorified ones have limits. And as much as you want him to be well, you miss him just as much.

You unlatch him from you without tugging too hard, and you’re met with glossy eyes and quivering lips. That desperation has been stuck in his tone and gaze since he returned home. Needing you close in any physical manner that’s given to him, his focus staying on you a little longer than what one may consider necessary. You remember when you’d beg him to stay in bed a bit longer before he went on patrol, putting on your best pout to convince him.

But now he's the one begging, pleading for your touch. And with the subtle poking of your thigh, you’re given more than enough convincing. Your lips return to mesh with his as you attempt to remove your towel with what little wiggle room you have. Takami takes this opportunity to let his hands roam your bare skin, tracing your curves and groping at any fat he can find while leaving a trail of goosebumps. The towel around his neck slides off, and you’d remove the last one if you could, but for now, you make the most of the situation by grinding into his lap, his bulge rubbing against your clit deliciously.

He’s restless; you noticed the signs before you found yourself on top of him. The Pro Hero moans into your mouth, his hands quick to grip your hips to drag them across his own. He pushes for a deeper kiss, if even possible, letting his tongue taste yours. You’re in desperate need of oxygen, and you’re sure he’s in the same state. When you pull away, he leans in to catch your lips once more.

“Let me take over,” you pant, resting your forehead against his. “Let me make you feel good.”

“No,” Takami groans lowly, eyes lidded and face flushed. “Need this. Need to do this for you.” He slowly flips you both from your current position so you lay on the mattress caged below his arms and legs. With a shadow looming over his handsome features, his eyes glow gold. “It’s selfish of me, I know, but I’ll take good care of you, too. Show you how much you mean to me.”

His words make your eyes soften, your arms wrapping around his neck again and pulling him close. Neither of your gazes leaves each other, not even as the towel ever so slowly loosens from his hips and cascades off his body. With your lips mere centimetres away, you’d have to give him credit for showing restraint thus far.

“You can never be selfish when you deserve the world,” you say before closing the distance. A growl escapes his throat; from your words or your taste, you aren’t sure, and you don’t care to figure it out. Not when he pulls away to trail messy open-mouthed kisses down your neck, stopping at your collarbone before latching on to one of your nipples. Your back arches into his touch, and his other hand tweaks at your neglected bud.

From your peripheral vision, you catch his shoulder blades twitch. You’d remember how his wings would ruffle when you two would make love, showing just as much vulnerability as the rest of him. The base of his crimson limbs was especially sensitive, and he’d let out the most beautiful sounds whenever they’d meet your touch. With them gone, the subtle movement is mere muscle memory. But when they jerk again once your fingers tug his somewhat-damp locks, you know better than to dismiss his body’s reactions.

Takami unlatches from your nipple to press his face between your breasts, inhaling deeply while his hand continues its treatment on the other bud. The sudden halt in his ministrations has you peering down at him, face warm while showing your confusion.

Still pressed against your chest, his gaze meets yours, eyes hooded and ravenous. “I can’t wait any longer.”

You exhale, trying your best to prevent your breathing from stammering. “Then don’t.”

Those two words were more than enough for the blonde, quickly propping himself up before pulling you closer to his body by your legs. The sudden shift makes you yelp, but Takami doesn’t say anything as he pumps his cock, using his precum as lube. His touches had you already dripping, and watching him stroke himself as he watches you with desperation and lust in his eyes only adds to the mess between your thighs.

Normally, he’d take his time with you. The Pro Hero, known for his speed when defeating villains, would throw all that out the window when you were in the picture, wanting to enjoy every second he has with you. This also applies to love-making, opting to prep you by treasuring your body and pleasure before the main event.

But with how he’s currently panting as he aims his cock at your entrance, his face and neck flushed, you’re more than content to indulge in his neediness.

His attempt at restraint is apparent as he takes his time sliding in. The tip makes you whine, and the blonde’s brows crease as he slowly adds another inch. His hold, now on your hips, is bruising, even as his thumbs would caress your skin. It makes you hiss, reaching up and making grabbing motions for him. Takami obeys, dropping to bury his head in the junction of your neck and inhaling your scent. A mistake: one where the consequences earn you a groan and the rest of his cock slammed inside your soaked pussy.

“Keigo!” you cry, pulling him closer.

Curses tumble from his lips. “‘M sorry, dove. I—oh, God…”

If being stuffed full without warning didn’t make you so delirious, you’d swear you heard him whimper. His calloused hands wander your body while his lips sprinkle kisses onto your shoulder: an apology, one you drunkenly accept as you try to adjust to the intrusion. A snug fit—it makes you wrap your legs around his hips. Your actions have the Pro Hero shifting to face you. He resembles a lost puppy, with his slightly-parted lips and wide eyes beneath furrowed brows of concern. You almost coo.

“Go ahead,” you whisper, fingers dancing across his undercut. “Use me.”

The expression he gives you before he reels his hips back is pleading and one of gratitude. You barely register it before he slams back into you and knocks the air out of your lungs.

Takami finds his pace in no time, pounding against you that the sound of skin slapping skin overpowers both of your heavy breathing. Every thrust has you squeezing around his shaft, and he rests his forehead against yours.

Everything is burning—the room, your mangled bodies, his breath fanning against your cheek. You’re boiling, your brain melting into a puddle of nothingness as your hands fly to his back, your nails planting into his shoulder blades. Your boyfriend’s eyes screw shut, a sharp grunt escaping him. You want to apologize; you should apologize, but you don’t realize your actions, and with his sudden angle shift, words fail you with every probe at your sweet spot. All you can give him is pathetic moans through a slack jaw.

His lips meet your swollen ones: you give him plenty.

“Keigo,” you manage to slur against his mouth. Takami bites your bottom lip, one of his hands reaching between your bodies to messily rub your puffy clit. You wail, and he pulls away from the assault on your lips.

“Open,” he heaves. Surprisingly, you not only understand but comply, letting your mouth fall open once more for his hungry gaze. Through glossy eyes, you barely see him puckering his lips and letting a blob of spit fall into your awaiting tongue. You squeak when it lands before you swallow the tiny puddle. His thrusts don’t falter throughout all of this, and his lewd act of possessiveness tips you over the edge, your weeping pussy creaming around his dick and leaving a gooey ring at its base. A sight you’d love to witness if your vision wasn’t currently white.

But Takami doesn’t stop. Not while you ride through your orgasm, not once you come down from it, and certainly not when you begin to cry from the overstimulation.

“Keigo!” you squeal, tightening your hold on his back. “Too much! ‘S too much!”

His speed has yet to falter, making your eyes roll to the back of your head. Not that your lover is any better, what with his vision gone hazy and grip tightening.

“Almost there, baby.” You can feel his warm breath fanning your face from his panting. “Just lemme—” His thrusts grow sloppier, jackhammering into your cunt like his life depends on it, all while whimpering “pleasepleasepleaseplease” on a loop. A particularly rough thrust has you wailing and your nails clawing down his back. Takami lets out a drawn-out groan. “Sh-Shit—”

The tiniest push and he’s hurtled over you, eyes screwed shut and jaw slack as his hips stutter. His face is flushed, close to rivalling the colour of his wings, and strands of his dishevelled hair clings to his forehead with sweat. Even with an unfocused gaze and a foggy brain, you can tell he’s as ethereal as ever as he fills you with hot ropes of cum.

You feel his muscles relax under your hold, and the Pro Hero exhales deeply before dropping on top of you. The sudden weight, while at first crushing, eventually feels like a weighted blanket, and you wrap your arms around your lover once more.

It isn’t until both your breathings are regulated do you speak, your words somewhat muffled against his skin. “You okay, pretty bird?”

Takami sighs, planting a kiss on your temple before pulling out. You shiver at the feeling of his cum leaking out; he notices, opting to caress your sides to calm you down. He can only offer a hum in confirmation at your question, the vibrations buzzing off his body and tickling yours.

When he gets off you, he also dismounts the bed, making his way to the full-length mirror in the corner of the room. It isn’t until he twists his body to have his back face it do you catch the red scratch marks on his shoulder blades, vibrant and right on top of his most recent battle scar. You gasp.

“I’m so sorry, Kei,” guilt is evident in your voice as you sit up on the bed, hugging the sheets. “I should have been more careful. Let me go get—”

A soft, airy chuckle interrupts your worrying. The blonde traces one of your marks, shifting his shoulder blades before fully facing you.

“It’s like they never left,” he rasps, lips twitching to form a sad smile. “Too bad I won’t be able to fly with them.”

Your brows knit together as you frown at his words, your eyes growing warm as they threaten to rain down tears. Your lover’s expression doesn’t budge as he approaches you, climbing the bed and finding his spot next to yours. He laughs dryly to himself, and it only dies down once you place your hand on his.

“Please, talk to me,” you whisper, leaning your head on his shoulder.

What remains of his front is cut off by a hiccup. It isn’t until you feel his body tremble do you peer at him to find streams of tears cascading down his rosy cheeks.

“Sometimes it feels like they’re still there,” he sobs silently, pausing to collect himself. You’re quick to pull him into your embrace, and he melts completely. “Even with the Commission out of the way, I still feel trapped.” He pulls back to look at you with pleading eyes. “I thought wings were a symbol of freedom. What happened?”

Hawks is gone, and before you is Keigo. A Pro Hero so young and forced onto such a high pedestal that one wrong step is a heavy drop. Without his wings, only you are there to catch him.

And with all the strength you can muster, you do so, carrying his weight in your arms as he falls apart, trembling and crying and heaving so hard you fear he’ll slip between your fingers into a pile of nothingness. For as long as you’ve known him, Takami has only ever born his soul to you like this fewer times than you can count on one hand. If he could save the lives of countless civilians (including your own), you figure that being his safety net is the least you can do.

A weak snicker escapes his lips, and you pull back to face him.

“Tokoyami’s been calling a bunch these past several days,” he drawls, his thumb mindlessly caressing your arm while staring past your shoulder. “Never answered him back, not even once. I should at least call the kid.”

Your boyfriend’s about to get up before you try to hold him in his spot without using too much force (not that you’d be able to stop him). His questioning gaze trails to you, and no matter how much you want to coddle him until he wants you gone, you keep your head up.

“Not now, honey,” You rest your forehead against his. “One step at a time. You can apologize tomorrow. I’m sure he’ll understand. He’s a smart kid.”

He sniffles, and you wipe a stray tear from his cheek. “You’re probably right.”

His breathing appears even, and the crying seems to have subsided, even if just for now. You offer a small smile.

“How about a meal?” you inquire, nudging your nose against his. “Whatever you want.”

The Pro Hero hums, tiredly copying your expression. “Can we just stay like this? Just for a bit longer?”

Your smile grows wider ever so slightly as you fall back onto the mattress, your hold on your lover bringing him down with you and having him land on your chest. Your gaze is soft when you peer down, and your fingers are back in his hair to comb out the mess you made. He sighs into your skin, burying himself there as his eyes flutter shut.

“We can stay like this as long as you want.” And you mean it. Even once his wings return, even once the people grow to trust him again, and even once heroes have time to kill. You would stay with him right here forever.

#mha smut #bnha smut #hawks smut #takami keigo smut #hawks #takami keigo #hawks x reader #takami x reader #smut #angst #my hero academia smut #boku no hero academia smut #fanfiction #fanfic

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randoimago · 2 months

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How would Astarion & Gale each react to Tav just being Sherlock Holmes levels of observant and just casually revealing, in a one-on-one conversation, that they have clocked in on his secret (being a vampire/the magic orb) by going, "Let me know when you need some blood/a magic item, okay?" then genuinely going, "Wait, was that supposed to be a secret? Dang it, this always happens. Your secret's safe with me." & offering to reveal a secret of their own (even offering to let him invade their mind with the tadpoles to find a secret) if it would make him feel better or on more even footing.

Fandom: Baldur's Gate 3

Character(s): Astarion, Gale

Note(s): Tav's Wisdom is maxed the fuck out

Astarion

He has seen you staring at him. He's made overly flirty comments about it in hopes of either making you uncomfortable and leave him alone or taking the bait for him to manipulate you. But you just ignore them. Like you're just taking notes mentally and it's frustrating not knowing what's on your mind.

It was the night after he snuck off to drink from a boar. You hadn't even stumbled upon the boar when you ask about him sneaking off. Astarion makes up some excuse, but you don't buy it. And that's when you start laying out your suspicions.

Mentioning his paleness (a bit rude, in his opinion), him squinting in the sunlight as if unused to the brightness (the sun is very bright, in his defense), him sneaking off in the night (he already made an excuse for that one), and finally the fact that when he smiles and laughs, he has fangs.

Astarion ends up pouting when you call him out on being a vampire. The fact that you just threw this knowledge in his face makes him a bit annoyed. But his response is to laugh it off and call you silly before finally admitting to it when you're still not buying the lies.

He had hoped to have his chance to explain things when he was ready (which would've been never if he had that option). And so he just asks you what you plan on doing now. Is he going to be cast off for being a monster? Are you going to stab him with a stake? Astarion won't beg for his life, but he will say it'd be a mistake to have him leave.

But that's how he'd react to your observation skills. And now he waits to see how you react to his admittance and if you keep him around or not.

Gale

You figuring out Gale's "affliction" isn't as easy as Astarion's vampirism. It isn't until Gale's magic sickness kicks in that he notices how curious you are for whatever knowledge he has. All he can ask is that you trust him to open up when he's ready.

You had already asked him about the type of magic causing it and his silence on the issue seems to cause you to notice more, much to his chagrin.

He must've made a face or chuckled a bit too nervously when you ask if divine magic is involved with his sickness. You seemed to have an "aha!" moment and Gale sighs.

You don't need to say anything for him to know that you're very close to figuring things out. So he decides to just admit it.

I mean, Gale doubts you've figured out the exact contexts, but he does fill in the gaps that you might have with your conclusion. He just asks that you keep this knowledge to yourself.

Yes he knows he has a ticking time bomb in his body, but just supply him with those magical items and stop being so curious. It killed the cat, you know! And he prefers his cats alive. And with wings.

Taglist:

@reo-the-leo @unhelpfulnpc

#Anonymous #bg3 x reader #baldurs gate 3 x reader #astarion x reader #gale x reader #astarion ancunin x reader #gale dekarios x reader

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sleepingdeath-light · 2 months

Text

relationship hcs ; lucifer morningstar

requested by ; mod / self indulgent

fandom(s) ; hazbin hotel

fandom masterlist(s) ; here

character(s) ; lucifer morningstar

outline ; “dating headcanons for lucifer”

note ; this may be a touch out of character as i’ve never written for him before, but hopefully you’re all able to enjoy this piece either way ^^

warning(s) ; brief mentions to canon angst and one mildly suggestive bit, but mostly fluff!

after having a several thousand year long marriage fall apart on him and experiencing a strained relationship with his only child for a good number of years after that, it’s only natural that lucifer would struggle with letting himself fall in love and move on — both because he doesn’t want to risk pushing charlie away and because, well, despite being the prince of pride he has a lot of issues relating to his past and he’s worried about messing things up and losing someone else he loves

that’s not to say that courting the king of hell is impossible, far from it in fact, but that you just need to be patient with him — let him move at his own pace, he’s been out of the dating game for a while after all (if you could ever even consider him as being ‘in it’ at all given the unique circumstances under which he met his first wife)

despite being the embodiment of ‘pride’, he does deal with a great deal of insecurity and anxiety — about everything from his parenting to his creations to his relationship with you and even far beyond that — so any kind of verbal reassurance or praise will go a long way with him and will always be received with a great deal of warmth and gratitude

whisper about how much you love him as you hold him in your arms late in the evenings or early in the mornings, when you’re laying in bed and half asleep — making sure that you’re starting and ending each day on a positive, private, warm note no matter what happens between the ‘now’ and ‘then’

gush about his latest invention as you visit him in his workshop, commenting excitedly at each new feature and animatedly gesturing towards his whole collection of creations with nothing but genuine enthusiasm and awe written across your features — make sure he knows that his craftsmanship and efforts will never go unnoticed or unappreciated by you so long as he wants you by his side

encourage him to take those leaps of faith that he’d otherwise be too jaded or anxious to take on his own: hold his hand and help him find the strength to call up his daughter just to chat and give them their privacy once he’s back in his element and fully engaged with the conversation, give him a pep-talk before his latest meeting with heaven and their new emissary and promise that you’re only a text or call away if it gets too much for him (he’s never taken up your offer, but the promise always helps to calm his nerves), and just be there to push him forwards as his partner and be there to catch him if things don’t go his way

praise him for all of the features you love until his face is tinged a beautiful shade of red, his wings are all fluffed up, and he’s too flustered to even look you in the eye — compliment the angelic and the demonic, the human and inhuman, make sure there’s no doubt left in his mind that you’re completely and utterly infatuated with him in body, mind, and soul

oh and make no mistake this gentleman gives as good as he gets and he could easily spend days at a time talking about every little thing about you that he adores, every minor habit or quirk that most people wouldn’t even notice that makes his whole day that much brighter — there’s no room for any self doubt or self hatred when you’re in a relationship with this fallen angel because he loves you so deeply, so wholly, that you’ll inevitably start to love yourself that bit more through him

it’s extremely important to him that you get to know charlie and that she approves of your relationship — his daughter is his world, his everything, and as much as he adores you, he will not risk pushing her away again for any reason (as much as it would kill him inside to have to walk away from you)

that being said, charlie will inevitably end up really liking you and making an effort to get to know this person who her dad talks about all the time, making it abundantly clear that she approves of you and would be happy to have you in her life as her dad’s partner — and maybe another parental figure in her life depending on how things go, how your relationship with her evolves, and whether you prefer to be her ‘step parent’ or just her friend who happens to be dating her dad (she doesn’t mind either way, she just wants him to be happy)

between his angelic powers, extreme wealth, and prominent status in hell, lucifer is more than capable of spoiling you completely rotten — like as long as you’re with him, you’ll never want or need for anything as long as it’s within his abilities to get for you (whether that’s something more traditional like jewellery, clothes, books, or food, or something more niche and related to something you’re interested in, like a tool to help you engage in a hobby or a specific item you’ve been looking for to add to your collection)

he’s also not above just outright making you things as gifts — of course there are his ducks which he’s more than happy to share with you, but he’s also a pretty good cook and will make you breakfast in bed as a treat or as a way to cheer you up if you’ve been having a rough time

on a related note, this man goes all out for your anniversaries and on your birthday — he just… really loves being able to take care of you, that’s all

and despite all of that he still keeps each and every gift and card you give him — has a whole drawer dedicated to your letters and your gifts are scattered around the palace, with particularly sentimental items being kept in his bedroom and workshop

there are two pictures that he keeps on him at all times: one of him and charlie taken shortly after he helped rebuild the hotel and settled into his personal room there, and another of the two of you taken on your first anniversary of a couple — he regularly takes them out to help keep him motivated throughout the day, especially if his day has been rather draining for one reason or another

he’s extremely physically affectionate and gives the most amazing hugs — he uses his arms and his wings to hold you close and keep you warm and when you’re laying down it’s extremely easy for you to just fall asleep in his arms if you don’t make a conscious effort to stay awake and in the moment with him

his kisses can go a couple of different ways depending on his mood and the setting you’re in:

he can be gentlemanly and chaste if you’re in a formal setting or otherwise somewhere that requires him to uphold a certain image — limiting himself to brief pecks on the back of your hand, your cheeks, or your knuckles if he’s feeling especially bold (doing enough to show that you’re his partner but not enough that his ‘kingly’ persona is threatened)

he can also be very sweet and playful if you’re at home or around close friends and family — peppering kisses along your neck and jawline, kissing your lips and cheeks whilst brushing his fingers along your ticklish spots, nuzzling his ‘nose’ against yours before kissing you, etc. (showing affection in ways that are enough to make you laugh and lean into him, but not enough that he’d be making your loved ones uncomfortable by being a bit too intimate)

last but not least, he can also be passionate and intense when the two of you are alone and he’s practically aching to feel your lips on his — wet, open mouthed kisses against your lips, trailing slow kisses from the inside of your wrists up your arm whilst looking you in the eye, trailing his lips down your throat and alternating between kissing and playfully biting at your skin (nipping and marking at your pulse point every time without fail), trailing his mouth lower and lower until you’re so frustrated all you can do is pull him up by his collar and crash your lips against his own (making sure that you know that you’re desired as well as loved whilst also being a bit playful about getting what he wants from you)

he always makes sure that he’s able to spend some quality time with you each day beyond just your sleeping hours — whether that means planning a proper date, meeting up for lunch between meetings, or stopping by wherever you are at the time via teleportation just to check in and make sure everything’s okay

lucifer has a wide variety of pet names that he uses with you — this includes the classics like ‘sweetheart’, ‘angel’, and ‘love’, as well as some more personalised ones like ‘duckie’, and more humorous ones that he comes up with on the spot to make you laugh and smile — and he loves any nickname that you ascribe to him no matter how ridiculous other people may find them

more than happy to show you off to all of hell as his beloved partner and their future monarch that will be reigning by his side one day — he’s more than capable of defending you from any threats himself and the palace is well protected so he has absolutely no reservations about making it known to every demon and sinner that you belong to him, and that he belongs to you

#sleepingdeath #gender neutral reader #fluff #fluff hcs #hazbin hotel fluff #hazbin hotel lucifer fluff #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel lucifer x reader

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sapchat · 3 months

Text

The Lord's Daughter

Cassian x Devlon!Reader

Synopsis: You’re Lord Devlon’s daughter, which definitely won’t cause any issues. Right? Fluff and Angst

Warnings: Devlon, misogyny :D, abuse, wing clipping, also you’re somewhat of a housewife because I read to many stories of people that end up with Cassian, Azriel or Rhys where they want to train and be strong. You can be strong and take care of a house, fuck that fighting shit. Also, I use female terminology, but you could read it as a more feminine male, FtM or even MtF if wanted.

Words: 7.6k

The High Lord was coming to the house for a meeting, and then dinner. Father stated they were to talk about the camp, what the High Lord wanted to change, to talk about the girls training. Father stated it was because ‘that bastard general of his’ has reported once again the girls aren’t training. The other lords of Windhaven have all agreed that the girls can train just after their chores.

The only issue with that is the males of camp have just been giving us more work. So where I used to have time to myself to read, or play piano, I spend most of my day now doing chores and helping the younger girls of camp.

I don’t mind it, truly, it helps them out to do what they want. Train. I just don’t have an interest, and it’s not because my Father believes a female’s place is the house, I just don’t enjoy it. I’ve spent enough time helping patch up the warriors in the infirmary to know I want nothing to do with it.

I’d rather be a ‘housewife’ likely to the High Lord’s displeasure.

It doesn’t help that the General has been pestering all the girls lately to see why none of them are training.

It doesn’t help he pestered me before about it. Just before Rhysand became the High Lord. That thought caused me to look to my father, who had been in the sitting room sipping his whiskey.

“Father, do you know how many will be attending the meeting and meal? So, I might be prepared?” I ask, and the look on his face either turned to anger because I interrupted his thought or because of who will attend.

“The bastard lord, and his two-bastard ilk will attend. Not sure about his whore cousin.” He answered and downed his glass. Yea the anger is from the guests.

I wiped my hands on the apron I wore and untied it to set to the side, “Is there anything you’d specifically want for the meal? I can head to the butcher’s tomorrow when he opens. And I believe that the Huxley’s just finished canning and harvesting some of their vegetables for the season, I can stop and see what they have.”

“Get something from a pig. Just what they need to remind them what they are. No better than anyone else. Just nicer versions of pigs.” He poured himself another glass. Three fingers full this time.

“Pig sounds good, it’s been a little while since I’ve made a pig roast. I get some beans and potatoes to mash with it if that sounds good father.” If I’m to roast an entire pig for dinner, then I’ll have to go to the butchers early. Hopefully Elias can help bring it to the spit for me.

Father just grunted in reply, I’ll have to see what good alcohol I can find on short notice to serve. Possibly a cheap wine for me in order to get through it all.

Father was to spend most of the day showing the High Lord, the General and the Shadowsinger how the troops were, and how the girls’ training were proceeding, whilst I prepped the house for dinner. Turns out a pig roast doesn’t take as long as one would think to cook.

So, I got to spend some of my morning and afternoon outside tending to it and watching the camp show what they’ve learned. What new techniques have been taught from the war, whilst some of the girls stood to the side doing simple maneuvers like breathing or stretching.

It was strangely beautiful seeing the males move how they did. Like it was a dance whilst they were paired off, a dance that turned bloody and violet sure, but a dance nonetheless.

I tried my best to ignore the eyes of the three guests but at some points it couldn’t be avoided, and I’d quickly look away and go back to peeling my potatoes. Like a game of camp and mouse, except each time I’d glance there’d be some type of questioning look in one of their eyes. The General’s.

Whilst one of the three would pop in for a visit to the camps occasionally, I was never around. I’d just hear my father’s complaints later. With the occasional slap if it was a real grueling day. They weren’t the worst punishment you’ve received from the man. By the time it gets to the point he wants to slap he’s had a few glasses full, and he doesn’t have much strength.

Besides he wanted me to look beautiful so he could still possibly find me a husband. Being the camp lord’s daughter did have its benefits. A pick of husbands, not that I’d get to chose but, and less beatings than some of the other women. Because whilst father would have rather had sons, he only has me. And as cruel as he can be I can say he doesn’t hate me. Detest me for not having a cock, sure.

But I am still his child.

Cauldron, part of me thinks just a little he hates he clipped my wings. He’d done it properly, thankfully. Had the best healer tend to it, so I still have functions in my wings and no real pain. Many of the girls and females in camp can’t say that. I’ve tended to many of them after the fact of how mangled their fathers make them. How they can barley even function.

The High Lord has attempted to ban wing clipping, imposing harsh punishments on those who still do it. It hasn’t stopped many of the fathers from clipping in secret. Which has caused more injuries than needed. It doesn’t help many of the males of camp beat their wives and daughters.

No wonder some many of the fae hate us. No wonder the High Lord and his friends hate coming around. Maybe that’s what the meeting is about. More changes to make to the camp. I’m sure father will love that. Something I’ll have to listen to until the next demand the High Lord makes.

I’d been so busy peeling and cutting up potatoes I didn’t see the massive imposing figure next to me. Red siphons littering his body, stature casting a shadow over my body, wings just posed enough to not be aggressive but catching my attention.

“Why aren’t you training with the other girls?” It was the General, Cassian, who had walked up to question me. And I’m shocked to find him talking with me. I’m trying to remember when the last time it might’ve been, and the only time I can think of it was around the time of their Blood Rite at a bonfire.

The war came not long after that, and then once it ended, I started taking care of the house more. Learning how to be a good wife from my mother, learning from some of the healers how to care for wounds.

“I’m peeling potatoes…” It’s the most obvious thing that I’m doing. He can see the potato in my hand, the others that had been peeled, and the skins on the ground around me.

“The girls of camp are to train just everyone else. So… why aren’t you training yourself?” He asked again, as if it’s the strangest thing in the world to not want to train. To rather cook, clean and care for a home than fight and get bloody and bruised.

“Because I’m prepping for dinner. After the meeting with the High Lord.” It’s a simple answer, one anyone should be able to guess, especially the General.

“Lord Devlon has been instructed that all girls of training age, or those that wish to, train before doing chores.”

“I know the rule Lord Cassian,” He cringes lightly at the title, “My father tells the camp of the rules the High Lord has created and has been enforcing. Believe it or not, I am not of training age nor do I want to train. I am perfectly content doing what I have been.”

The General almost seemed shocked at what I said. And just as he went to add something else, someone called him back to the others. He looked at the voice, then back to me, as if he was going to ignore them. Continue to question me; but he left.

Once he left, I took the food inside, to finish cooking it. The Generals presence reminding me of that bonfire. What the night brought, what rare fun you got to have. Before many of you had responsibilities for the real world….

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Flashback~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“If your father finds out I allowed you to go out tonight he’d have both our heads.” My mother had stated glancing hesitantly at me from over the counter.

“Well, father is going to be in meetings with some of the camp lords, and other males of camp. Hence why this party is happening tonight.” I told her, the crunch of an apple piece ending my statement from the fruit she had given me for a snack.

“You’re not going to do anything… reckless are you? Nothing to…-“

I interrupted her, “Mother I’m not going to sleep with anyone. My pureness will be intact when I leave the house and will still be present when I come back. You’ll have no issue marrying me off. Even then, you and father are still able to have children.”

My mother had walked around the counter and pulled me into her chest, kissed my head and stated, “Why would I ever try to mess up perfection?” She had always said I was the best thing she made; no other child would be able to compare.

By the time I had gotten to the party it was in full swing, liquor and ale being passed around in cups, people sneaking off to the shadows to feel or hook up.

I had just planned on seeing some of my friends, only have maybe one or two drinks, I hadn’t expected the heir to the Night Court to be there. Which meant his two shadows would be around him too, both bastard low-born males, one who fought for his place in Windhaven and slid his way to the heir’s side. The other, the one everyone says was kissed by flame and shadow, who was dropped off here by his father’s guards as a favor to whoever his mother was. Just because the Lady of Night was a family friend.

The three of them weren’t much older than I, maybe by a few years, they were nearing the age and power to compete in the Blood Rite, where many Illyrian males aim for the age of 30 to compete. The name is self-explanatory, it’s a rite of passage where lots of blood happens.

I had spotted the long-hair male, I believe his name is Cassius or along the lines, standing by the fire passing a cup of ale to another female. Brushing through the crowds, I made my way over looking at the different drink options feeling hazel eyes looking at me.

Without even looking at the person staring I ask, “Going to give a suggestion or just keep starring?”

“I mean either works for me. Which allows me to stare longer?” Cassius… Cassiel… shit what is his name…

“Hmmm… giving a suggestion allows me to sip something as you stare.” I finally turn to look at him, and realize how much taller he is. He’s standing at least a head over me, if not two heads. Maybe a head and a small head.

“Ale is always a good choice. If you’d like something harder, a whiskey mixes or rum. Something sweet, I saw someone walk by with wine earlier so that’s somewhere… Cassian by the way.” CASSIAN! That’s his name.

“Y/N, and I’m okay with ale. My mixed drinks either varies by too strong and mainly the liquor or not enough and its basically just soda.” He nods his head and takes to pouring me a cup, getting no foam in it before handing it over.

“So, Windhaven native orrrr….?” He asks, and I can’t tell if he expects to end the night in my pants or not. If he actually just wants to get to know me.

“Native, my father is one of the lords sooo. Kinda have to follow the line. Only reason I got to come tonight was the meeting.”

“Yea, that was the main reason for this soiree. Helps that the High Lord is there taking the attention off of us to do it.” My eyes widened just a little, not realizing that the Lord of the Night Court was present.

“I didn’t realize he was coming to that meeting… how do you know that, figured it’d be a bit of a secret.” I watch as he points off to the side, following his direction I see how he knows, the heir, Rhysand is against a tree. Kissing another male with a female between them.

“He’s… committed?” I don’t even know how to describe it, and whilst it wouldn’t be me… I won’t judge others. That’s wrong.

“Oh,” the sharpest grin spreads on Cassian’s face, “He’s a very committed High Lord.”

“I’m sure the Night Court will be in… loving hands?” It’s a questionable laugh, one I hope doesn’t offend him or his friend.

“He will be, he’s got plans. Hopes to make Illyria a better place. But none of that, you’re drinking with one of the next Carynthian!” He’s proud of the statement, as if knowing he’s going to win no matter what.

“Oh, you’re competing this coming spring? Are… are all three of you doing it?” It’s a simple question, one because I know my father has already complained about them signing up together. It’s somewhat nice seeing others give him a headache rather than I.

“You can bet you’re sweet ass.” My eyebrows raise as I blink at what he exclaimed, “We all plan to complete it together. We started as one, we’ll end as one.”

“That’s… sweet. To many Illyrians die during it… To much blood shed just to come out on top just to come out with bragging rights.”

Cassian shrugs as if it isn’t too much of an issue. “Everyone in this camp is out for someone’s blood. The blood rite keeps everyone… sated. It’s a way to get rid of your enemy’s or people you hate without having to deal with a punishment from Lord Dickhead. Illyria is awful anyway with how everyone gets treated, if there weren’t challenges or the blood rite, we’d never be an army. Be to busy fighting each other.”

He's right but the name ‘Lord Dickhead’ throws me off… he’s not talking about…? “Lord Dickhead?”

The biggest grin ever splits across his face, and that’s how I know 1. He’s talking about my father and 2. He doesn’t know I’m his daughter. “Lord Dickhead, Lord Devlon. He’d answer to both I think.”

It had caused me to laugh, Windhaven is a big camp so not everyone realizes that my dad is one of the lords, let alone realize I’m his daughter. We talked more that night, but Cauldron knows I can’t remember. The ale was pretty strong, and I hadn’t drunk much before. But I do remember the night ended with a sloppy kiss.

We had moved to just the outskirts of the party, and he made a comment about going to be the best warrior the camp has seen. His goal was to be a general one day. And I had made a silly little comment about me being the fair maiden and him being the amazing knight.

He told me that the knight always gets a kiss before and after saving the maiden. So, he said he earned a kiss before the Blood Rite. So, I risked it. One of the only times I ever risked my status and the ire of my father.

I pressed my lips against his, hesitantly. He cupped my cheeks in his hands, tilting his head just slightly and pressed his lips against mine a rush of heat flowing through me. My brows furrowed just as he ran his tongue along my lip and in my confusion, I followed instinct and raised my hands to cup his face.

It had been a hot, hungry rushed kiss. My first kiss, something no other male got from then on. The war came after, among a thousand other things. But it always felt like a part of my soul was missing from then on.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Present~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I had been so lost in my daydream I had finished the potatoes. The type of ‘blackout’ where you just rely on muscle memory and continue doing whatever you were and come back out after going “Oh I actually cooked those right and didn’t just imagine it right?”

I quickly started setting everything out on the table, laid out the glasses, with a pale of ice cubes if wanted and the slightly expensive whiskey I found set out as well.

And just as I finished stirring the mashed-up potatoes, I heard my father lead the males in. In walked the High Lord, the Shadowsinger and Cassian. I walked into the doorway of the eating room, watching my father lead them in, the whiskey and glasses already on the table from earlier today.

My father nodded to me, seeing that everything was out for them already. He then turned to the others and nodding in my direction and three sets of eyes lay on me. Each holding different twinkles in their eyes. “I’m not sure if you all remember back from, you’re all’s youth, but this is my daughter. Y/N Devlon.”

The High Lord’s and Shadowsinger’s expressions stayed neutral, but Cassian’s eyes widened just a bit. Either from realizing that I would in fact know the rules because of me being his daughter. Or because he finally remembered who I was.

Either way I bowed just enough to be respectful, “Hello. Dinner is ready, and I left the option of drink choices. I hope everything is to your guys’ liking.” The Shadowsinger’s gaze glanced over the table, likely trying to see if anything would be poisoned but his gaze stuck on the roasted pig sat out, glistening with juices.

As if realizing what caught the shadowsinger’s attention, the High Lord and Cassian’s attention moves to it as well. Cassian only really seemed to have an issue with it, his teeth clenched and fist slightly clenched.

The High Lord took it in stride however, “Devlon, I’m glad you remembered how much I loved a roasted pig. Did it come from the Collymore family? They still have their butcher shop don’t they?”

My father leaned over his seat, and poured himself a glass, “You are correct Rhysand, the Collymore’s still have their butcher shop, their son has helped take it over. Truly it was them to remember your love for pig. Too many of you boys I raised and sent off to remember it all.” There’s a little eye twitch in his eye at the dig. “Please sit. Let’s not let this meal go to waste.”

I helped pour glass for the males, asked if anything else was needed before being waved away by my father. Walking back into the kitchen for my own dinner, I felt eyes follow me.

My own meal was smaller, consisting of really only the sides, pork wasn’t my favorite choice of meal, especially when it came to having to look at the face of a pig while eating. I spent most of dinner trying to ignore the conversation happening one wall over.

Voices varying in differing heights as disagreements and agreements happened. Why they elected to have a meeting over a meal? I’m not to sure. Doesn’t seem like much eating is actually happening. And as the person who cooked the meal, it kind of upsets me that my work is going to waste.

I could see the little shadow join me in the kitchen as I ate. Giving me some company, granted I’m sure it’s reporting back. As soon as that thought happens, it shoots off and another replaces. At least I think it’s a different one.

I’d been so distracted by the noises from the other room and the little shadows I didn’t see the massive frame entering the kitchen from the back. I jumped a good foot when I heard him speak.

“Why didn’t you say you were Devlons’ daughter?” General Cassian.

“Pardon?” It comes out quickly, just with one breath as I stare at him. His wings flexing with a slight irritation to them.

“You know what I asked.”

“Are you talking about earlier today or when we first met?” It’s a good question. Simple enough that if he doesn’t remember then I don’t have to possibly deal with the fact we drunkenly kissed. Or I can let him have some panic for calling my father ‘Lord Dickhead’. Even if that shoe fits.

“That depends. When do you think we first met?” I just slightly narrow my eyes, then glance in the direction of the dining room and back. What’s his game? And how do I play?

I’ve grown up around these warriors. Whilst I’d rather stay at home, I can bite back. “’Lord Dickhead.”

A saccharine smirk grows across his face, a glistening white canine peaking out. “What would Devlon thing about his daughter kissing an Illyrian bastard?”

“He didn’t know. The only one who did was my mom. Maybe your friends. But I never said a thing. I don’t kiss and tell.”

“That why you don’t train? Because he’s your father and he doesn’t allow you to?” He seems almost pissed as if it’s my father not letting me train.

I finally set my fork down with my plate and glare, “If I wished to train with everyone else. I would. It’s my choice whether I do or not. The High Lord doesn’t require me to train, he just states that the girls that wish to train, do. And I don’t want to.” My wings have started to flare just lightly, likely the only amount of dominance I’ll ever show.

He glances at my wings, eyes narrowing as if now realizing that my wings were clipped. A slight growl coursing through his chest. “So doesn’t allow you to train and clipped your wings. Wonder how Rhys would feel about him breaking both rules he’s imposed.”

I pull my wings back in close and tight to my back almost self-consciously before saying, “My wings are none of your business. It especially doesn’t concern the High Lord. What I do is not any of your business either. If I wanted to train, I would.”

“It matters if the Lord of this camp is breaking the laws that have been imposed by the High Lord. Rhysand has explained in great detail what the punishments are for wing clipping, and for not allowing the girls of camp to train.” I understand they want change. I do. But the punishments he’s talking about is either a beating or death. To “prove a point” they just kill them.

We’re in silence for a few minutes, him waiting for me to bite back likely. And when he seems to think I won’t, he turns to leave. To go back to his precious High Lord, but as he hits the doorway something makes me open my mouth, “They were clipped before I met you. Even before the bonfire.”

It makes him pause, but he continues back to the dining room.

It’s a week later until I see him again. I had been walking around the farmer market the camp has. And he seemed to be walking around buying some of the food, either for a quick lunch or just to support some of the families of Windhaven.

So, being the peace maker, I try to be, I go up to him, “Hi.” Simple, if he wants, he can ignore me, or he can engage.

“Y/N. How are you?” Okay so not an immediate ‘fuck off’ so that’s good.

“I’m doing great! How about you?”

“Good.” Okay so maybe he’s just being polite.

“…What brought you to the market today.” He just glanced at me, and it’s really making me rethink trying to be nice.

“Have you been over by the Monroe stall since being back at the camps? Cade and his wife Calliope run it now. I think he did the Blood Rite a couple years after you.”

He sighs, “What are you doing?” He just barley looks down at me, an emotion in his eye I can’t pinpoint.

I just shrug, “I don’t know, I figured you’d maybe like the company. I know you’re not the most popular in the camps all considering. Plus, that first time we met we were friends,” I look down at that, “At least I think we became friends. Even if it was just for that short time! I didn’t really see you after…. And I know the second time we met it was tense, but you were eating dinner with my father-“

He cuts me off, “Whilst you were eating the bare minimum in the kitchen. Alone.”

My eyebrows furrow just lightly, “I couldn’t really eat with you guys. You were discussing camp policies. Not really a place for me.”

“Because you’re a female?”

“No, because I don’t know anything about camp policies. It wouldn’t make sense for me to be there. It’d be like if I showed up for a war meeting. No reason for me to be there.” It makes sense in my head so I would think it makes sense in his.

“That’s your home. You prepared the meal; you welcomed us into the home. You should have sat at the table and ate.”

“Can I ask something General Cassian?” It’s something I want to know. But his face makes me smile just a little.

“You can just call me Cassian; but yes.” It’s almost a grumble with how he answers.

“Why does it bother you so much? How I decide to do things with my life?” He pauses in his step as if debating something. Either to answer or to tell me.

“That night. The… night of the ki- of the bonfire.” He rephrases his statement as if remembering we’re around others of camp. As if he realizes if anyone overhears, my virtue will be in question. My reputation in the camps, ruined. “I… I know we’re older. Now. But I thought I felt something… that night. Something deep in my soul. And then you were gone, the Blood Rite happened, then the war.

Just to find out you were under my nose the entire time. Did you know that Rhys didn’t know Devlon had a wife, let alone a child. One so close in age. Let alone one who’s wings had been clipped, doesn’t train with the other girls and females of camp.”

“He doesn’t have a wife anymore. My mother died not long after the war ended. And I told you the other night that my wings were already clipped the first time we met.” I sharply turn in front of him, “Also, I didn’t realize I had to inform you who I was when we met. I don’t usually walk up to people go ‘Hi my names Y/N, my father is Lord Devlon lets go make out!’ When we met, we were nobodies. You didn’t have a title, such an important role, so many responsibilities. So, I stayed out of the way. No matter what I might’ve felt that night.”

It's like a ripple is sent out. Something in the wind has changed. But all we can do is look at one another. Both breathing slightly heavily from what’s been shared.

Cassian looks away for just a second, nostrils flaring. “Is that why you didn’t come around? Because I’m a bastard? A fatherless motherless brute with no standing?”

I scoff at what he’s trying to imply, “Why would your parents matter to me? I didn’t come around because 1. How did I know you wished me to? You were sent to the Blood Rite the night after, then the war came, Rhysand became the High Lord and you left. 2. You forget that even though my father is Lord Devlon, I am a woman, a daughter to a brute that cares more for this camp than I. I have no standing which is something I’ve accepted.”

“So, I just assume I’m supposed to sit here and believe, that even when I was not a general, you would’ve had me? Would’ve let me court you?”

“YES!” I exclaimed, the few people still wondering around the market glancing in our direction. I hold my stuff a little tighter before glancing back at Cassian’s eyes, “Come on, follow me before we get into any more trouble.”

The winged male slowly followed behind, as if he were a child that had gotten in trouble. Luckily, father was to be with the ‘troops’ and wouldn’t be at home until late. So, we would be left in peace for a bit.

“Won’t Devlon get pissed your in here unchaperoned with a male?” He’s almost hesitant in walking into the house, as if he’ll be run off for just walking in.

“Believe it or not, even though I’d rather stay in the house and raise kids than fight, I am allowed to make my own choices. Much to my father’s anger.” There’s just the smallest smile that graces his face, it lights up as he does.

“Is that why you don’t want to train? Because you would just rather keep house than be a warrior?” It’s as if he’s finally understanding me, finally realizing that everyone wants something different.

“I’m an only child, I always begged for siblings, always played with babydolls, or played house. My mother couldn’t have anymore kids, I never truly knew why I just know she couldn’t. Because of that, I spent most of my time playing ‘mom’ with different things and people. That’s all I wanted to be… Then my mother passed away after the war, that disease that passed through the camps, remember? The dreams of a sibling kind of… shattered, unless father remarries.

Then the High Lord became the High Lord, started changing the rules of the camps, trying to make change. Think what you want about my father, I know how he seems and gets viewed, but he’s always been like that distant in his own way. Cass, I wish I was one of the females of camp that wanted to train, he’d allow it if I truly wanted to, but I don’t. It’s not something I want for me, I want to be in the home taking care of people, raising kids if I get to have them. And if that’s not something you can accept… then I don’t know if there could be an… us.” I glance up towards him, and the most heartbroken look is on his face.

“I couldn’t care less if that’s what you truly want. I only cared because I thought you were being kept from what you wanted to do. I didn’t know you truly didn’t want to train, I thought you were being forced to keep house. That’s why I was pushing for it so much, that’s why I cared.” He still has the look on his face, as if I’ve killed his mate…. Wait….

“Earlier… you said something… about the night we… kissed. That you thought you felt something… What did you mean?” It’s like a white sheet has draped over him, his tan Illyrian skin lighting to an unhealthy look.

“It-it’s nothing. Just I don’t know Y/N we were drunk, but I just feel like-“ He’s twiddling with his fingers as I interrupt him. Something I never picture the general doing, the famed Prince of Bloodshed.

“It felt like something more? Something… in the making, or in the forming?” His hazel eyes make contact with mine, an almost knowing glint in them. Like he’s already thought that’s what it was, although there’s still a look of fear.

“I’m not sure if that’s what it is. The only experience I have with mates is Rhys’ parents’… and they weren’t… the best examples. I just know that night I felt something, and ever since then it felt like something’s been missing. Until we met again, and that feeling came back.” I chew on the corner of my lip, chewing on the skin some.

“So… are we mates?” That beautiful grin is back on his face, the color her lost coming back to the usual tan.

“I think we’re mates.”

Right as he says it, as if talking about it summoned it, that beautiful golden bridge is formed between us.

It’s been almost a week since the mating bond formed between us. Something that I’ve kept away from my father, which Cass has been in full support of. He has started to buy and give me courting gifts, which I can’t tell if my father noticed and is ignoring or not. Granted I did want to put feelers out at dinner tonight.

“Father?” I hope my tone isn’t as anxious as it sounds, but I fear it might be.

“What would you like Y/N?” He asks still reading the report he has in his right hand as he eats.

“Would....” How do I approach this? “Would it be okay if someone… started to court me?” This makes him pause mid-chew, and it’s then I start to wonder if maybe he is just slightly more male than I thought, than I saw.

“Is there a male in the camps courting you? Because if so, they should be coming to me for permission. Who is it?” Okay yeah maybe I shouldn’t have brought this up.

“I don’t think it’s actual courting, I just think someone has been giv-leaving gifts for me. Just little things that usually get seen as courting gifts. I just wanted your opinion on it father.” Simple, appeasing to his pride.

“I’m not sure which game you’re playing child, but if someone does wish to court you, then the proper way is through talking with me and allowing me to approve it. Are they a respectable male? The one leaving gifts.”

He doesn’t believe he’s respectable, but he’s more respectable than the males in camp. “What if they’re my mate? I know it’s rare, but if The Mother and Cauldron wished it, would you still accept them?”

My father stops chewing once again, as if getting tired of my questions during our usual meals. “You’ve been reading to many of those books again, haven’t you? They still need to speak with me if they wish to court you. Mating bond or not.” Okay so maybe he will accept Cassian then! “But if he is not a male of good standing, then it won’t be happening. I won’t have my child marrying some bastard, mating bond or not.” Shit.

“The books bring me joy father. Something to do once I’m done with my chores.” Entice my father with the sweet words for the females of his time, where we’re happy with doing chores. Which for me I am but still.

It wasn’t until hours later when I go meet Cass that I told him.

“How’d your father take it?” He asks, wrapping me up in his arms holding me close to him. The bond thumping along our chests, even unmated and it thrives with life.

“I chickened out… Don’t look at me like that! I asked how he’d feel if someone started courting me, and he said he wanted them to come to him to ask permission. So, I asked what if they were my mate. But he said if that was the case, even so rare it is, that he’d technically allow it, unless they weren’t in ‘good standing’.” Cass lightly pushes me slightly away from him to look at me.

“So, your father’s definitely not going to allow me to court you. My mate. I knew your father hated bastards but…” He sounds upset about the fact, which is understandable.

I look up and run a finger along the length of his nose, “You could always rescue me, be the amazing knight again and me being the maiden. Take me away to the Moonstone Palace safely tucked away.” He gets some kind of guilty look on his face at the mention of Moonstone Palace.

“Is that what you’d want? For me to take you away from your father, bring you back to my home with me?” he’s sincere in his question, and I know he’d do it in an instant.

“I wanted my father to approve. I wanted him to be okay with our relationship, with our eventual mating. To be happy for me that I was able to find a male that could care for me. Mates aren’t something that happened, let alone happen in these camps. But I’d never forgive him if he tried to keep me away from you.” And I wouldn’t. He’s my father and I’d do almost anything for him, like he’s done for me, but this is a chance at my happiness.

“I’ll see what I can do, speak with Rhys about seeing if there’s anything that can be done. If there’s a loophole.” He’s sweet and doesn’t even have to do what he plans to do. Really, he could just cut his losses and move on.

The issue was we were wrapped up in each other, we never even noticed the male watching from the shadows. So, when I awoke the next day, my bedroom door locked; I didn’t know what was to happen. Was even more shocked when I found my father in the corner of my room waiting.

“Are you fucking him?” It was all he said. Just like that my loving father was replaced with the male Lord of the camp.

“What?” No, seriously, what?

“Are you fucking that bastard?”

“Father what are you talking about? I haven’t been with anyone, you know this.” Really, all me and Cass have done is kiss. Yet that little brush of question down the bond from him makes me wonder if it could be seen as more.

“It’s been reported to me that you have been seen sneaking out. Then meeting that bastard born foot solider. So, I’ll ask you again. Are you. Fucking. That Bastard.” He’s pissed, I’m pissed that someone’s followed me to him. Because this is going to fuck over whatever plans me and Cass made.

The anger on his face makes me pull on the bond and send just the smallest rush of panic down the bond. Hopefully letting him know that somethings wrong, that I might need assistance. “Father, I don’t know what someone claims to have seen but they are wrong. You know I would never do that, compromise us like that. You’ve raised me better than that.” He didn’t necessarily raise me at all, my mother did. He just kept us alive in terms of money.

“So, the male is lying to me and your telling the truth?”

“Father, you have nothing to fear. You know I am waiting for your approval and marriage. It would be unladylike of me to not have my maidenhead before being married.” It’s not a lie, I do still have my maidenhead, but I am kind of sneaking around with Cass.

Speaking of who, responds with my earlier tug, with one of his own, and a questioning feeling down the bond. I tug back almost instantly, sending back reassurance but still a little push of panic. Hopefully getting the point across I need him.

“If that is the case you won’t care for me to go get the male and question him again. See which of you are lying.” He knows something. Either there’s actual evidence of me and Cassian sneaking around, or someone is trying to screw me. I’m not happy about either.

I just shrug in response, “I just planned on cleaning up around the house today. So, I’ll be here if you wish to ask me anymore questions.” I smiled at him kindly.

I need to figure out a way to get out of camp.

My fathers’ eyes just narrow at me, before his lip curls and he leaves the room completely. Not locking the door behind him thankfully.

It was only two hours later I heard a knock on the back door; a sharp tug following after telling me who it was. Picture my surprise when I let Cass in and the High Lord and Shadowsinger follow in behind him.

I start to try and bow but before I can even attempt to Cass pulls me into a hug. “What’s going on?”

I push back lightly, “Someone saw us the other night. When we met and talked about leaving. Someone had followed. Father thinks we’ve…” I stop, and glance at the other two before finishing.

The High Lord leans against the wall, the Shadowsinger joining him, “So he thinks you’ve slept with him and thus are basically worthless in terms of any marriage deals.”

My face rushes to a heated tint, and Cassian growls in response, “Rhys.” It’s a simple command he makes. Don’t speak about my maidenhead so casually.

“Do you know who the male was that reported seeing you guys?” It’s the Shadowsinger that speaks now.

I shake my head, “No, he locked me in my room, waited for me to wake then basically came and interrogated me. Just said someone reported to him that they watched me ‘sneak out’ then followed me and saw me meet up with Cass.”

He shares glances with the Lord and Cass, before Cass asks, “How pissed is he?”

“Well, I can almost guarantee that when he comes back later after questioning that male again it won’t be a happy dinner.”

Cassian runs a quick hand down his face, and it makes me feel bad that I’m putting him through this stress. As if noticing my feelings, the High Lord speaks.

“Devlon would be pissed no matter what. The Cauldron themselves could be your mate and he’d be upset. It does slightly complicate things, but this is an easy issue to solve.”

“Rhys. Don’t insinuate my mate is an issue.”

“Not what I meant, and you know it.”

“Az do you think you’d be able to intercept Devlon before he finds out to much information?” Cass asks, and before I can tell them it’s likely to late, he’s gone. Shadows hiding him away taking him… somewhere.

“Y/N, do you want to stay and see what happens or would you like to pack some stuff to leave?” The High Lord—Rhys, I guess is what I should call him now. Cass has told me enough about him I feel it’d be appropriate.

“Do you think it’s needed?” I don’t want to leave my home. It’s the home I was born and raised in, the home my mother lived and died in. The home I learned my purpose of life in.

Cassian answers instead, “Me and my brothers were talking. The three of us think it may be safer if you come with us. But… I’ll leave you with the option. The choice to see how your father reacts. We just think it’ll be safer if you come with us at the end of the day. We… we don’t know what Devlon will do once finding out we’re mates.”

I must look sad about that because Cass brings me closer, if possible, and his wings just slightly curl towards me. “He wouldn’t hurt me. He might be some type of monster but he’s still my father.”

Rhys answers for Cass, “It’s not that we think he’d intentionally hurt you, but he said it himself, he wouldn’t marry you to your mate if it wasn’t a… good match. But it wouldn’t be a happy life if you stayed. I know it’s a big ask, this is your home, all you’ve known. But I also know Cassian would be a lot happier if you were with him. Safe.”

Closing my eyes, I sigh because I know they’re right. I’d be happier in the long run with him. “I’ll go pack some things. Should I wait or just leave a note?” My voice is solemn.

Cassian and Rhys look at one another, but Cass answers, “I’d leave a note for now. We can always come back if you want to see if he’d like to make amends.”

And so, I do, I leave a simple note apologizing. Telling him that I was in fact still a maiden, even if he thinks I’m not. Tell him that Cass is my mate, and I couldn’t have a higher-ranking male as my husband. If he wishes to speak with me, he can send letters.

Other than that, I take my most prized possessions. Some of my mother’s jewelry, books, a few more odds and in’s I’ve collected in my few hundred years of living.

Then we left. So, I can be happy with my mate, and his family.

Author's Note:

This was going to be 5.6k words but last night I felt it needed just a little more angst because we all know Devlon would be pissed.

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dividers came from @firefly-graphics

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gay-dorito-dust · 10 months

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Taglist: @souyasbabyy @kittekat420 @mellozhi @bro-let-me-sleep

This was long overdue…also do I have any idea where this series is going? Honestly I’m just wining it, so if it seems like there’s no consistency…that’s probably bc of me wining it.

Warning: ooc hobie? Shit writing?

Butterflies can’t see the colour of their wings series:

Part 1

Part 2

part 3 (you are here)

When Hobie told you that he’d be there if you were going through something; he meant it.

When Hobie told you that you could come to him for anything that might be plaguing your mind with doubt; he meant it.

He meant every promise he’s ever made.

Every. Last. One.

However Hobie knew that to push you into telling him everything wasn’t the right way to go about solving things, and instead he should wait until you were ready to talk about the issue on your own terms. You’re amazing Hobie and I’m not dismissing your help or anything but I’m sure I can figure this out on my own, if I can’t then I’ll come to you. Were the words you spoke to him. You always wanted to figure things out yourself first before resorting to relying on others for help. While that was admirable, Hobie secretly wanted to be the one you relied on most; after overhearing what you said to Miles about the consequences of wanting what you can’t have because you felt as though you didn’t fit with him.

Which -for clarification- Hobie found to be utter and total bullshit because to him, you couldn’t have fitted better with him. He could give less of a shit about how different you were, whether it was based on lifestyles, aesthetics or differences in personalities, because at the end of the day Hobie only wished to help you realise how beautiful your butterfly wings were; and they are the most beautiful he’s ever seen that to try and describe them would be a fruitless endeavour for you made him feel all kinds of things and those things you made him feel were new and exciting.

How he wishes he could find the way to rid you forever of your self doubt and insecurities that run so deep within yourself that it was nearly impossible to find where it was that the seed of doubt was placed within your heart and soul. Hobie knew he can only say so much before it begins to sound like he was rehashing those same words in a multitude of different ways until they held no emotion nor meaning.

Another thing he often pondered to himself in his spare time was the kiss you left engraved upon his cheek that day as he often ran his calloused fingertips across it gingerly, still feeling the phantom of your lips there. He first wondered if that kiss was merely a gesture of thanks for his offer to help; nothing to be looked deeply upon for it untimely meant nothing outside your appreciation for the strong platonic bond you both built since meeting one another; Whereas he sometimes wished it was you slowly accepting his willingness to become more integrated with your life then he already is but to a more deeper and intimate level.

A level where in his fantasy you both could sit in a together in total silence as you both did your own thing, easily finding comfort within one another’s presence and knowing that you’d never be too far away from actively seeking for one another when wanting to show something.

A level where you would wear his vest outside of the excuse that you looked cold but more so because it would inherit your scent within the fabric, so that whenever he was away he would be reminded of the piece of you that he had with him, telling him that you were waiting for him back home.

A level where he could look into your eyes and see his entire life within them.

A level where he would’ve finally found a way in making you see you from his point of view; for you were a butterfly who would one day realise the colour of your wings and he was the human that would help you see their beauty and worth.

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iamqueenpotato · 1 year

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I Hate That I Love You - Part Five

Azriel x Reader

A/N- Here is part five! Took a bit longer than I planned, life decided to get crazy out of nowhere but what is new haha Anyways here ya go! I hope you guys enjoy it and thank you again for being amazing!

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: Angst

Part one

The thread taunted you. The iridescent glow within you felt like needles underneath your skin. You knew it was meant to feel different, but in this moment there was not an inkling of joy across your entire being.

That mating bond had brought back all your fear and anxieties. That pain you fought so hard to beat, grew back within seconds. What if he knew and never told you? What if he deliberately ignored it because he could never have such feelings for you. The new bond only made your heart ache more. You had ran far from the camps, from the cabin, the trees began blurring together, the damn tears that hadn’t stop since you left the training ring. Your lungs burned as you tried to breathe, but each sob was followed by a heart shattering breath. You collapsed onto the ground, clutching your chest as you let out your cries. It was a moment that felt all too familiar.

You knew life was unfair, that you were meant to face obstacles and choices that could break you, but this past year wasn’t right. How could the cauldron damn you so? What did you ever do to deserve such agony?

You wanted to scream, to curse the life you were given. You were content with staying in this forest, letting the cold take you away, numbing everything that had caused you so much pain.

But the sound of wings above you sent you into a panic, causing you to scramble to your feet. No no no. You couldn’t see Azriel right now, he can’t be here. Even though you said you wouldn’t run, that you would face your problems, it all changed in an instant, because this-

This was a different form of fear.

You broke out into a sprint once more, hearing whoever it was land, but you didn’t look back, you were panicking, you knew this. All the sensible logic seemed to have left your head.

“Y/N!” The voice broke through the silence, your legs slowed as you turned to face the male.

“Surin.” You choked out, running back toward him. He approached you carefully but with open arms. And you hastily jumped into them. Your arms shook as you wrapped them around him, clutching the leathers he wore as if you were afraid to let go. Afraid to be left alone with your thoughts.

“Are you okay? Are you hurt?” His voice echoed in your head as you held on to him, but softly he pulled you away from him, his green eyes searching your body for any injuries. You knew he would find nothing, part of you wished your pain was caused by a physical wound. Perhaps it would hurt less. “Azriel said you ran off, he thought you were with me. But when I said no he looked even more frantic, it got me worried.”

No words fell from your lips, not as your mind drifted to Azriel, you didn’t mean to worry him, to make anyone worry in that matter. The poor male in front of you got dragged into your issues, it was the last thing you wanted to do. You didn’t need someone else’s concerns, you had enough of your own.

“I am fine Surin, you didn’t need to come look for me.” You looked up at him with swollen eyes and the way your voice cracked with emotion contradicted your statement. And you knew Surin was smart enough to realize.

“You can cry in front of me, I won’t judge.” Surin offered you a kind smile before speaking again. “And if you aren’t ready to talk, that’s okay too.”

You let out a small laugh through your choked sobs, Surin pulled you against him, letting your tears fall onto his chest. “Is this about Azriel?” He asked while rubbing soothing circles along your back. Surin was the last person you expected to be here for you, but it made you all the more grateful for the male. You nodded against his chest. You wanted to confide your reality to him, to whisper those words that felt so foreign along your tongue. But the second you spoke them, it would all become too real.

Another set of wings sounded above the two of you, and in an instant Surin wrapped his wings around you as if he were protecting you from whoever was approaching.

“I assure you, Y/N does not need protection from me.” You knew that voice.

Cassian.

Surin pulled his wings back, and all you could see were the red siphons glistening against the fresh snow, Cassian had landed in front of you and Surin.

Cassian’s face was full of concern and he quickly moved toward you.

Pulling away from Surin, you dropped to your knees in front of Cassian. Tears streaming down your face once more. Perhaps it was the relief of seeing your dear friend, but your body gave out entirely. These last few days had drained you, not just physically but mentally.

“Y/N!” Cassian exclaimed as he slid across the ground, catching you in his arms. “Are you okay? What is going on? Kiddo talk to me.”

“Cassian.. please get me out of here. Please. I can’t be here Cas, please take me home.” You sounded so broken, the emotion catching in your throat.

Cassian’s gaze softened. He knew you weren’t going to say much else. “Okay let’s go.”

You were grateful for his understanding, but before Cassian could gather you in his arms, you turned back to face Surin, embracing him tightly. “Thank you. For looking for me.”

Surin placed a soft kiss on your forehead. “Never hesitate to reach out if you need anything.” He brushed his thumb across your cheek. “And I mean anything Y/N.”

You nodded, embracing him one last time before reaching for Cassian, who gathered you in his arms before launching into the sky. And you could’ve sworn you saw the reflections of blue against the ground below.

The trip back to Velaris was silent, and by the time the two of you arrived, your tears stained your cheeks. You knew Cassian had an idea of why you were upset, he had always known of your feelings for Azriel, and though he had been supportive of it, telling him that Azriel was your mate felt entirely different. You pushed your thoughts and emotions aside when the river house came into view. You still needed to report back to Rhys, your current problems would have to wait.

“Thank you Cassian.” Your words were barely a whisper as he placed you down at the entrance.

“Are you okay?” He asked, not letting you go just yet. You gave him a shy smile.

“No.” You gently removed yourself from him. “But I will be.” Lying was the last thing you wanted to do to Cassian, but the truth seemed so uncertain, you had no clue if things would ever be okay. Before he could respond you pushed through the entrance, leaving him to stare blankly at you through the closing doors.

On your way to Rhys’s office you passed by the portraits that hung along the walls, each one painted beautifully by Feyre. But only one seemed to taunt you, mocking each movement you made. You stared at Elain, her large brown eyes staring back as if she was watching you in this very moment. Judging you. She was undeniably beautiful, no wonder Azriel had taken a liking to her. You always wondered what she offered him that you couldn’t, what he preferred in her, maybe it was her innocence, her body that wasn’t marked in scars. He had enough darkness of his own, perhaps he didn’t want the burden of yours.

You tore your eyes away from the painting, unable to bear the painful thoughts much longer.

When you approached Rhys’s office, the door opened for you, and you found the highlord leaning over his desk, scribbling across multiple pieces of paper. Off to the side, Feyre had an easel set up in front of her. She smiled at you as you sat down in one of the chairs in front of the desk.

“How were the camps? Eventful?” Rhys asked, pushing the papers to the side.

“You could say that.” Crossing your arms, you leaned back into the chair, ready to leave and disappear into your room. “There was this Illyrian, he was older, dark eyes, brown hair, his demeanor was very unnerving. He was curious about the inner circle. And the second I took my eyes away from him, he was gone before I could ask anymore questions.”

Rhys sighed, running his hands through his hair. Feyre moved over to him, tenderly rubbing his shoulders. You only wished to someday have the understanding they shared. “His name is Madok. He is one of the older Illyrians there, and the only one that never moved up in rank.”

“Why?”

“Because I forbade it.” You stared at him, lips slightly parted, waiting for him to continue. “As you know, my brothers and I have put a lot in to change how the Illyrian camps operated, the horrid ways of the past were to be no longer. And as usual most refused, but eventually they slowly came around. But not Madok. I caught him on multiple occasions training men under the old regimen, reprimanding those who refused.” He paused, as if the memory was too much to relive. “I did my best to punish him, but at the time I was new to being highlord and he had more respect in that camp than I did. But after catching him, things fell silent, I assumed he backed down. I now see I was wrong.”

“So you think he is behind these threats?” You asked, moving to rest your elbows on your legs. “If that’s so, can’t we find him and bring him in?”

“We haven’t been able to locate him since. But hearing he showed up and approached you, is no mere coincidence. Where was Azriel?”

You clenched your jaw tightly at the mention of the shadowsinger. “Not around. I left without him that day.” You avoided looking directly at Rhys and Feyre, but you knew they sensed the stiffness in your tone. You felt the claws within your mind, that you had left unguarded. You pushed them out, needing to leave before any more questions could be asked. “Well if there isn’t anything else needed from me, I will retire to my room. Please inform me of any developments.” You stood from your seat motioning to move but Rhys’s voice caused you to halt your movements.

“Is there something else you would like to share?” Rhys asked, a knowing expression across his face. But his eyes were filled with sympathy.

Damn daemati. “You’re a nosy ass, you know that?” You sat back down in the chair, Feyre came over to hold your hand, she wiped away the silent tears that fell. You were so tired of crying. “Azriel is my mate.” Why did it feel so wrong to say that word out loud?

Feyre inhaled sharply, looking back towards her mate. “Does he know?” Rhys questioned.

“I don’t think so.”

“You have to tell him.” Feyre exclaimed and maybe she was right, perhaps you should’ve but it didn’t feel right, you were never the one he chose, if he was happy, then it was not your place to interfere.

“How? He’s getting married to Elain. To your sister. He never once showed interest in me. What if he rejects the bond. Am I supposed to just live with that pain? Watch as he has a happy life with another female?” Your words quickly turned into sobs, Feyre moved closer to you, wrapping her arms around your shoulders, causing the sobs to increase. You didn’t want to hide this from him, you knew it wasn’t right but that fear consumed you, made you feel pathetic.

“But still he has a right to know, he believes the cauldron cursed him with no mate, this changes everything.” Feyre added.

“Don’t you think I know that? I know he deserves the truth. But Feyre I am in pain. I cannot face him without feeling my heart breaking into a million pieces. He has had my heart for years and he knows this. But yet he has done nothing.” You inhaled deeply, the tremble following your exhale. “I want to be with him, but I am not his choice. Who am I to get in the way of his life. I can’t take that from him. Maybe the cauldron should have kept it that way, he seemed to be fine finding love on his own.” You stood up once more, freeing yourself from Feyre’s embrace. “I need to think about this. I can’t walk in there and declare he is mine. He is not an object to be claimed.”

“Tell her.” Feyre spoke up, staring directly at her mate.

“Tell me what.”

Rhys stood from behind his desk, moving to stand in front of you. “Elain has informed us that they plan to marry in the next week. They were going to announce it at the party tonight.”

It felt as though all the air had left your lungs, the numbing pain filling your chest cavity. “Great.” You forced out, turning away from your friends as you held back your emotions.

“I am so sorry, Y/N.” Feyre whispered back, but you didn’t want her apology.

“There is nothing to be sorry for.” You sauntered to the door. Avoiding the sympathy you felt that you didn’t deserve.

“But-” Feyre started.

You looked over your shoulder at the two of them, giving them a pained smile. “I will see you guys at the party.”

It was a beautiful night for an outside party, they had dedicated a small part of the land next to the river house to host the gathering of tables and decorations. Lights floated above the area, it looked like a scene pulled from a fairytale. There were more people than you would have thought, but that was for the better, it would be easier to hide in the crowd the entire night. But you wouldn’t show weakness, you needed to remain strong, even if your soul felt as though it was falling apart.

“You look stunning.” Surin spoke up behind you, turning you admired the black dress clothes he had exchanged his training leathers for, he had slicked his hair back, exposing more of his high cheekbones and sharp jawline. You felt his eyes rake over your body, the emerald green dress you had settled on clinging to your skin, it left little to the imagination.

Surin placed his hands on your hips, placing a small kiss on your exposed shoulder. You quickly convinced Rhys, well more like guilt tripped him into letting Surin be your plus one. “As do you.” You whispered.

You led Surin into the party, his hand held firmly on to yours, it seemed the both of you were equally nervous. You walked around to greet each and everyone of your friends, and you had yet to run into Azriel, it was probably better that way but that didn’t stop your gaze from searching for him each second that passed. You ran into Helion, who gathered you in his arms, his hands always lingering for far too long. Normally you enjoyed his company and the long talks the two of you conversed in, but tonight you forced a smile to him, and the look he gave you was all knowing.

You excused yourself before he could say anything about it, and as you walked away Surin quickly pulled you aside. “If there is something bothering you, if anything we can leave, maybe I can show you my superb baking skills.” He whispered in your ear, enticing a laugh from you. And you understood he was only being nice, trying to be helpful when he didn’t truly know what bothered you, he was certainly a good male, Surin had a good heart, he deserved someone amazing. And perhaps you could love him, find happiness with him. Maybe he could be the male that helped you move on, forget all about the bond you shared with Azriel. But you had so much more healing ahead of you. You could never burden Surin with that. “Where did you go right now?” His voice tore you away from your thoughts.

“What are you talking about?” You blinked a few times at him.

“I can tell you get lost in your thoughts, the way your eyes drift downward. Are you sure you’re doing okay love?”

“Yes.” And the second you spoke, you saw him, standing near the front entrance, his arm was draped around Elain, but his eyes were on you, not focused on the conversation his fiancé was having with the people in front of them. His gaze sent shivers throughout your body but you forced your eyes away from him and back to the male in front of you. You needed a distraction. “Would you like to dance?”

Surin smiled brightly. “Lead the way.”

The two of you danced the night away, the alcohol you had consumed boosting your courage and taking away your care for anyone else around you. Surin held you close as he spun you around, and you knew there was a genuine smile across your face.

The two of you fell into a slow sway. “I never thought I would be here.” Surin whispered as he kissed your hairline.

“What, attending an inner circle party?” You questioned as your head rested on his chest.

He laughed. “No, dancing here.” He paused and you met his gaze. “With you.”

“I am certainly enjoying my time with you.” There was no lie in your words, the time spent with Surin greatly bettered your mood.

“I want to spend more time with you Y/N. I know this is very random, but I think you are a beautiful female with a great heart. And I would be honored to get to know you more.” Surin stared down at you, his cheeks flushed with a light pink, as if it took some courage to admit his feelings to you.

You stared at him, contemplating whether it was the right choice. But maybe it could be for the best. There was no harm in figuring that out. “I would like that too.”

Surin smiled widely before bringing his lips to yours, his smile never faded as your lips moved with one another, you closed your eyes, holding Surin close, until you were abruptly pulled away from him.

You opened your eyes to find Azriel standing between the two of you, his shadows encasing him like a fog, the people around you staring at the scene in front of them. Hushed whispers and gasps echoed throughout the air.

“Azriel!” You heard Elain scream, but Azriel never moved his eyes from you, he was breathing heavy, fists clenched tightly at his side. Surin was pushed onto the ground behind him, Nesta and Cassian trying to help him up. You moved to reach for him but Azriel had grabbed ahold of you before you could, transporting the two of you into the river house.

“What the fuck Azriel?” You yelled, noticing he put the two of you in his bedroom. “Who gave you the right?” There were no words to describe the anger you felt.

“Where did you run off to that day Y/N? I was worried sick.” Azriel looked at you, his shadows still frantic, you leaned against the chair within his room, knowing you wouldn’t be able to leave without a conversation.

“Nowhere in particular. You don’t need to worry about me, maybe you should go check on your party, you left with quite a scene.” You spoke with no emotion. The image of everyone's horrified expressions replaying in your mind.

“What happened?” He asked, ignoring your words entirely.

You stared at Azriel, the obvious concern he had for you was prominent in his tone. But you couldn’t tell him the real reason. Not yet. “I had a panic attack.” A statement that wasn’t too far from the truth.

“Why?” Another question. You sighed, straightening your posture.

“Why does it matter Az?”

“Because it does!” He snapped, you were taken aback by the sudden change in his voice. “Because I was worried that something happened to you.”

“I really should be getting back to Surin.” You moved toward the door, but Azriel stepped in front of it.

“Please don’t go. Every time I am near you, you disappear. I just want to talk to you. Ever since you got back I have barely gotten a word in.”

“If you haven’t noticed but I left my date out there. After you rudely interrupted us. Again. Whatever it is you need to talk about can wait.”

“He doesn’t deserve you.” Azriel lowered his voice, moving a few steps closer.

“Where the hell is this coming from Az? I don’t understand anything with you anymore.” He didn’t respond, letting the eerie silence take over the room surrounding you. You closed your eyes, taking a deep breath before opening them again. “What do you want to talk about?”

“You said you hate that you love me? Did you really mean that?” Azriel questioned, his tone desperate, as if that question had been sitting on his tongue since the last time the two of you truly spoke, but perhaps it had been.

You gasped softly, the memories haunting your mind. “Yes.” You breathed. Moving further away from him. If he wanted to have this conversation than so be it. If he wanted honesty you would give it to him. “I cannot think without my thoughts being of you. I live each day with the regret of not telling you sooner. So yes I hate that I love you because if I didn’t, if I never had these feelings in the first place, than I wouldn’t have to live my life with this affliction it has caused.”

“I never wanted this to happen, I never wanted you to leave.” He admitted and you could tell in his voice that it was the truth, but everything still felt off. He still let you leave, he never once asked what was wrong, if he cared, he had an odd way of showing it.

“You act one way but speak another. How am I supposed to know what you want Azriel?”

“I want you.” He whispered.

“What?” You must of been hearing things. The words of his confession weighing heavy on your heart.

He kept his eyes on you as he moved toward you. “I want you, Y/N.”

You tried to move away but your back hit a wall. He inched closer to you, his hands finding their way up to your face, resting gently along your jaw. You were stuck between him and the wall, your heart racing as you stared up at him. You placed your hands on his chest, but you didn’t push away, his heart beat rapidly underneath your fingertips, your breaths entwined.

He moved his forehead to rest against yours, his hazel eyes solely focused on you. “I have always wanted you,” His voice was hoarse and his touch sent shivers throughout your body, the way his chest was firmly pressed against yours. You knew this was wrong. “Tell me to stop.” And as much as you needed to, as much as your mind was screaming to push him away, you couldn’t. Your eyes shut as he closed the remaining distance between you and him, your lips touching ever so slightly. And when you didn’t move away, he wrapped an arm around your waist, bringing you closer, deepening the kiss that should have never happened in the first place.

But yet, neither of you could pull away.

Taglist (I crossed out the ones that tumblr wouldn’t let me tag, I am still trying to figure out why :/) : @honestlywtfisgoingon @fanfictioniseverything @marina468 @positivewitch @maviee @blurredlamplight @bookslut420 @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @elle10 @dragonstoneprincess @holywolfsstuff @reiincarnatiion @valeridarkness @feiwelinchen @sv0430 @kennedy-brooke @emturtles @nightcourtwritings @zephyg-06 @chantalleke91 @katherinereid @loulou0101 @shadowsingersmate24 @tcris2020 @shadowsinger-654 @nobody00sthings @lucyysthings @turkishgirlslife @rachelnicolee @mich0731 @tobifeemo @kristeristerin @sinnful-darling @hannzoaks @zoe2 @strangersunghoon @bangtanbecks @juneangel21 @hanatsuki-hime @acourtofmarvels @cmay25 @its-sam-allgood

#azriel shadowsinger #azriel acotar #Azriel #azriel fanfic #a court of thorns and roses #azriel angst #acotar fanfiction #acotar #acotar fandom #reader insert #azriel x reader #azriel spymaster

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baldurs-simp · 6 months

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Un-Holy (Astarion x Aasimar!Reader)

Summary: Your heritage comes out in the midst of a battle, leaving you to confess your past to Astarion, whom you have developed a strong relationship with.

Warnings: strong language, mild spoilers, aasimar!reader, fluff, written at the spur of the moment while slightly tired, a bunch of rambling in the beginning but shit goes down later on

MY MASTERLIST

You have gone years without a fight until you woke up on the Mind Flayer ship with a tadpole behind your eye. Now, you cannot go a day without fighting for your survival after the ship crashed somewhere near Baldur’s Gate. You are not alone in the fight, however, having met some companions along the way who all share the same affliction you do; the threat of becoming a Mind Flayer.

The first you met was a Gith, Lae’zel, on the ship before it fell, then a Cleric of Shar, Shadowheart. The two don’t see eye to eye, but they keep the peace well enough to not cause a fight within the camp at night. Then you meet the rogue, Astarion, whom you later find out is a vampire after he tried to drink your blood in your sleep. How he’s able to walk in the sun without burning to a crisp is a mystery to everyone, but you think you could be because of the tadpole lurking around in his head. Or perhaps it is the work of the Guardian that visits you in your dreams.

Then you met the wizard from Waterdeep stuck in his portal, Gale. He has his issues. An orb sits in his chest, waiting to explode if it is not sated with magical-infused objects. You normally allow him to consume items that would otherwise be of no use to you. Items that grant you spells that you can already cast. Items useless to you, but not to Gale.

Wyll you had met after defeating a group of goblins that tried to enter the Emerald grove. Meeting him spurred your quest to help the Tieflings being kicked out by the druids. You plan on clearing the way for them, getting rid of goblins that might attack them west of the Blighted Village. Wyll had his quest to hunt down a devil, whom you found, Karlach.

Karlach is nothing like what Wyll had described and they finally came to a consensus to not kill each other. The tiefling that fought in the Blood Wars was only enlisted against her will. And she now joins your party in search of a cure for the Mind Flayer tadpoles.

You feel as if you know everyone in your party, and know somewhat about their past from what they shared with you after bunking down for nights while on the road. Yet, they don’t know a thing about your past. They don’t know who you truly are, or what you really are. But sometimes you think it’s for the better.

Battling the Hobgoblin leader, Dror Ragzlin proves to be a difficult fight. With the majority of your companions looking rough and the fight still raging on, you can’t help the necrotic energy bubbling up inside of you. You have to let it out.

Planting your feet firmly into the ground beneath you, you let out a fierce cry as ghostly skeletal wings sprout out from your back. A necrotic shroud falls over you, turning foes close to you around in fear. Your eyes turn into black pools as your gaze falls on Ragzlin, letting him know that he is your target.

The fight is quickly won after that and you drop your celestial facade, helping up Gale and healing him of his wounds. “Well, I didn’t know we had an Aasimar in our party,” Shadowheart mentions, causing you to turn your head towards her and see that everyone else stands behind her, staring at you in awe and curiosity.

“Let’s just find Halsin and get out of here,” you quickly say, walking past them without so much as making eye contact with them.

“Woah, woah, we’re not gonna talk about how fucking cool that was?” Karlach mentions as the party follows you, stepping over goblin corpses as you briskly walk toward the exit.

“There’s nothing to talk about so let’s not mention it. This is just something I can do just as you can go into a rage,” you say over your shoulder, pushing the heavy oak door open, shoving the piercing gazes you feel on your back from your companions. You sigh, knowing that they will pester you if you don’t tell them what they want to hear. “Look, it's a long story, okay. I come from a celestial background. It’s no different than Lae’zel coming from a Githyanki background. We all come from somewhere and none of us has pestered anyone about it, so why should it be different with me?” you question, turning around to face them. So, can we please leave it at that, find the druid, and get out of this place?”

From the tone of your voice, they can tell that your heritage is a sensitive topic. And they know you’re right. Everyone has their past and they are free to disclose as much as they want. It prevents tension from rising in camp. So, they suck it up, leaving your story to their imagination. Until you’re comfortable telling them.

Astarion, on the other hand, is not one to let things go. He thinks that he deserves to hear your story after he told you what happened to him and how he became a vampire spawn. Not to mention that you and him have become somewhat close. After all, you do allow him to feed off of you at night when he needs to. That creates quite a bond if he must say so himself.

As night draws near, everyone tends to themself to rest after a long day of slaying foes in the desecrated temple of Selune. You keep to yourself, not wanting to be involved in conversation as you fear that someone will bring up what happened to you in the fight. It’s a conversation you don’t wish to have.

You sit by the edge of the lake, looking up at the stars, lost in thought and memory. You don’t even hear the footsteps approaching you from behind as you stare at the twinkling lights illuminating the sky.

“There you are,” Astarion’s voice calls, pulling you out of your thoughts and back down to earth as he sits beside you on the ground. “I had thought that perhaps you had flown off.”

It was meant to be a joke and you know that. But it does not make you laugh or smile. Instead, you sigh heavily and glance down at your feet. “If only. Unfortunately, my wings are incapable of flight,” you state, looking back up at the water lapping at the shore. “They never used to be, you know. Gods, I used to be so fast, flying between clouds like a blur. Now, I can remember what it’s like,” you say, smiling to yourself as you recall a memory of being in the sky.

Astarion has his eyes fixed on your face, taking in your smile, something that rarely comes across your face since he’s met you. “What happened?” he asks, tentatively and in a whisper.

“I fell in love with someone I wasn’t supposed to,” you say, shaking your head in shame. “I fell in love with a devil. He was charming and cunning and I was cast out from my people because of it only to find out that he was toying with me because he wanted to see me stripped of my radiant power. He wanted to see me fall,” you explain, turning to meet Astarion’s gaze finally. “There is no pride in being a Fallen. Only shame.”

He understands now. If anyone, he knows all about shame and it explains more than you know to him why you never told anyone what you are. He wants to reach out and touch you, lay a hand on your wrist as a way to tell you that you are not alone in this. But he doesn’t know if you will allow him to touch you. He knows that if the roles were switched and he told you in extensive detail what Cazador had done to him, he might not know what to do with a friendly touch.

“I wandered around on my own, living off the land, too ashamed to show my face to others, fearing that they would know what I had done and how far I had fallen from grace,” you say, looking back out to the lake. “I was on my own for so long, until I was taken by those Mind Flayers. It seems fitting now, being a Fallen Aasimar with a tadpole behind my eye.”

“You are not alone in this, you know,” he simply says, leaning slightly forward so that he can hold your gaze. “No matter how far you have fallen from grace, you are not alone, little angel.”

You chuckle at his words, your shoulders relaxing as you shift in your seated position. “I’m glad to have met you, Astarion. I only wish that we had met sooner,” you say, smiling sweetly at him as you cross your legs under you. “Perhaps things would have been better.”

Astarion laughs, throwing his head back slightly as he follows your gaze out to the water. “I do not think you would have liked me all that much. I would most likely have led you like a lamb to the slaughter for Cazador to feast on. And he would have reveled in the taste of your blood,” he says, a low growl in his voice at the mention of your blood.

You two had talked about what the others might taste like to him, talking - theoretically - how different people’s blood would taste like. You’re sure that yours must taste different than those he had bitten in battle for a bit of extra strength.

“And I would have tried to kill you if you did,” you tease him, looking at him, your eyes meeting his and you two stare into each other’s eyes.

“May I see them?” he asks, his eyes shifting to your back.

You know he means to see your wings, even in their dismal state. You feel comfortable showing them to him just as he had felt comfortable telling you that he is a vampire. Giving a small nod, you close your eyes to focus on conjuring your spectral wings, revealing their skeletal form with minimal feathers covering parts of them, some looking as though they are ready to fall off.

His mouth falls slightly open as he stares at them, shifting himself on the sand of the shore so that he can kneel behind you. You can almost feel his breath on your next as he shifts closer, his fingers reaching out to touch the exposed bone.

A breath catches in your throat, your head perking up as a shiver runs through your spine, making your wings slightly perk up. Your heart skips a beat, something you’re sure Astarion can hear, and you turn your head slightly over your shoulder to look at him.

You don’t have the heart to tell him that his actions are considered something intimate between your people. Taking another’s wings is something only lovers do. You’ve never had anyone touch them, even when they are in their original, glorious form.

You close your eyes at the sensation, taking in it because you are not sure when you will experience it again. When you feel Astarion moving away, you look at him again and smile. “Thank you. For letting me myself around you,” you whisper, standing up off the ground and dusting off the sand from your hands and legs.

“No. I think I should be the one thanking you for trusting me,” he speaks, standing up with you as he gazes at your features illuminated in the moonlight. Gods, he wishes he could see you in your full glory. He knows you’re still holding back what you could be. Still, he thinks it could be absolutely glorious to see you as the angel you truly are.

You bid him good night and walk to return to your tent. As you leave him, he casts his eyes to the ground to spot a black feather that has fallen from your wings. He bends down to pick it up, twirling it in his finger as she smiles to himself.

He’s going to keep this feather so he remembers this moment forever.

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