#Shadow just wants this blue idiot to get out of his way and just get done with whatever the fuck is happening in his life now XD

[piko-rose]

I have zero context about Sonic and Shadow's "rewritten" fight but I know there are cutscenes for it, but istg if the cutscene before the fight is Shadow being done with Sonic's shit, that's all I needed from this game between those two LMAO

[balteredsworld]

wilson’s hypothesis. gregory house

🥼🩺 | according to wilson, house likes you and you like him. so, house confronts you with wilson’s hyposthesis.

masterlist: greg house n all

warnings/tags! fluff of sorts, angst if you squint, talks of self-sabotage, idiots in love, sherlocked reference!!! (just watched 8x18—house self-sabotages so bad my lord)

author's note: lowkey hate this but it's idk what're we thinking fellow ducklings???

"wilson thinks i like you," house airs.

you throw him a strange glance.

"crazy, right?"

"yeah? and you think i like cameron," you mimic, matching his dismissive detachment to comedic effect.

only, house is serious.

“no, wilson thinks i like you.” house ignores your joke, repeating wilson’s solemn hypothesis.

when you pause to look at his face, your mind goes off into complete nonsense like's just tipped you over and left you with internal bleeding in your brain, upon the realization that he does, in fact, mean those words he's telling you.

"what makes him say that?"

"i'm apparently connecting with you,” house indulges, relaxing into the cold bit of wall behind him. the moonlight hits him in a more subtle way, half hidden in the shadows. the blue of his wrinkled shirt melts into the glow it radiates.

you're not particularly sure what to say. thankfully, he elaborates.

“you share your food with me, i take your food, ergo it means something in wilson's romantic world,” house offers, before quickly dismissing the thought of his supposed feelings for you. "but you know wilson, he's always been a romantic. thinks he can diagnose emotions as easily as diseases."

you consider the argument, "well couldn't that just mean i can't finish my food and you don't wanna get your own?"

he squints at you, as if with drills for eyes. you're playing dumb, unless you really believe that. but you don't.

you clear your throat, "well, do you believe that?"

"well it's either that or i must obviously like you."

you gawk. "well, do you?"

"do i have to spell it out for you?"

"wilson had to," you snark back. "so, do you?"

"no," he says with a flat face.

something in your chest drops, just as your brows shoot up. "no?"

"no," he reaffirms.

you don't know if you manage to catch your frown. house doesn't say anything if you didn't. you're more than a little embarrassed, surely flushed. you're thankful that the two of you are under the dim veil of night.

"well good thing," you grumble.

house looks at you with a curious look, as if he was almost offended you would say that. "good thing?"

“we���re both lonely. lonely means self-sabotage,” you explain, fiddling with one of the main trinkets that line the ledge. you were sure you proving your point, coming up with an off-putting rationale to cover up your embarrassment. "two self-saboteurs, well, that's an equation with proven unresolved issues... so yeah, good thing."

you were internally cringing at the words you were spitting out, but you were trying to play it cool. it's something that's never worked in your favour though when you were near an attractive guy, and you always swore this was to make them repulse the inkling of interest. and you swore off doing this years ago, but the blunt rejection, if you could call it that, sprung the teenager out of you.

then again, house affects you like that. blue eyes and blue shirt and all.

he makes it no secret that he's a ladies' man, often hitching hookers into the hospital despite cuddy's gentle parenting to make him stop. but house does whatever he wants in the hospital, hence all the lawsuits you've had to deal with.

when you look at him again, he's somehow uncharacteristically quiet. you're unsure if his speculative eyes are because of a lightbulb moment, but one thing's for sure: he was thinking.

"you're thinking, aren't you?" you glean in a tilt.

house doesn't say anything, but turns away from you. when he does, you're unsure if you see his lip curl in disappointment—he hides it too well. some part of you hopes, but you know you're not his type. a bit too much like him in the overanalyzing and overthinking.

and maybe you're convincing yourself, but realistically speaking, your happy arrangement of sharing food in the middle of a hospital shift may work for lonely and misery, but not for anything else. two people who like self-sabotage is like a dumpster fire.

you'd rather have house like this, happy and alarmingly blue.

"aaand you've stopped listening. i shall take that as my cue to leave," you announce, hopping off the ledge in the same ginger fashion you had waltzing in.

when you land your feet, house airs his deduction, nodding along as if he was finally making sense of you and wilson’s hypothesis. 

“maybe he’s onto something.”

you turn to him with a tinge of a worrisome brow. 

“who knows? maybe i’ve been sending subtle signals that even i’m not aware of. so what do you think?” he croons his head, all ominous, arriving to a conclusion. you can practically see the cogs turn in his brain. “you like me.”

"i never said that.”

house looks at you, rising in a smooth motion, as if to showcase his towering height, forcing you to look up at him. sitting down, he's not so large, but now, all you can think is that he's tall.

"you might not, but your body does," he croons, dangerous smirk playing about his face. his eyes probe your face, confidently with a proven theory. "pupils dilated..."

house grabs your wrist, eyes practically lighting up in delight at his impending diagnosis.

"…and pulse elevated. i understand that wilson thinks that love's a mystery to me, but the chemistry's incredibly simple," he says, softening his grip on you.

house doesn't let go, lingering in this proximity, leaning closer like some ghost and spirit you'll always look for. your breath hitches, but house doesn't afford you time to quite think, capturing your lips in a kiss that you reciprocate, clutching onto his arms for balance.

you feel one of his hand snake to the nook of your back, pushing you flush against him. house keeps his other hand cupping your cheek and jaw, large enough to cover that expanse of your face. it's a little dry and rough, but you don't mind, all too preoccupied with his lips.

house makes good work on you. his lips are even better than you'd imagine, but you finally register his words and what you were doing, so you pull away. the furrow of your brows returning, apprehensive about his next words.

you whisper, “i thought you didn't like me.”

"i was lying," he shrugs. "i needed to see if i was right, and i was."

"so you figured me out?"

"you like me,” house concludes, triumphant. “i was right.”

“i thought this was wilson’s hypothesis?” you cock a brow.

“hypothesis,” he nods before flicking your head. “but i can’t give him the credit for my diagnosis.”

you let out an airy laugh, relieved that he didn't make you spell it out for him. "you're an ass, you know?"

his eyes are proudly heralding trumpets. you could practically hear the victory going off them.

"it comes with the sitting arrangement."

[arpicityandneed]

Asking for a friend re: dark content Bucky, are we talking Bucky-Bucky, or like, are you also down with some Winter Soldier? Because WOW what a great look. Scared my ovaries so good.

Like, imagine the Soldier gets a bodyguard assignment to the daughter or wife of some SHIELD official. You're annoyed about having this mostly silent, kind of unsettling hottie shadow you constantly. So you get bratty, act out to try and crack that ice wall. "Kay fine, you need to keep an eye on me, I'll leave the door open to shower!" or "hey they said to pretend you're not even here, guess that means I can masturbate!" And you're not really sure what you expected to come of it, but it definitely wasn't getting railed because you managed to wake up half a century of repressed lust.

author's note: I mean all the dark content, Winter Soldier, Bucky-Bucky, dubcon, incest, all the good stuff. please ref my rules and guidelines <3

18+ Dark Content. Winter Soldier!Bucky. brat!reader. dirty talk. creampie. dubcon (mainly 'cause hydra). rough sex.

"Новая миссия Солдат." New mission, Soldat. The HYDRA handler handed the assassin the file, your seductive smirk in your profile photo making his stomach tighten. The sensation was new to him. But his response was the same it always was, a low husky rasp with no intonation.

"готов подчиниться." Ready to comply.

~

You didn't like your new bodyguard.

No matter how hot he was, he never spoke two words to you. All you got was da or net. He followed you everywhere and carried your bags and never seemed to sleep. You knew your dad was important to some big guys, but to think it would mean you'd be stuck with this ghost of a man with no way to sneak off wasn't what you had in mind.

He was just a big, hunking, idiot. With a metal arm. (You may have had a thing for the metal arm.)

He wouldn't let you drink since you were technically only 20, and killed any party just by standing there- not dancing, not moving, just watching you with his icy blue eyes.

It made you want to crack that perfect control he had.

"So you're really not going to leave that spot while I shower." You looked up at him as he stood at the threshold of the large ensuite bathroom in the hotel you were staying at while your father was having a business meeting.

"Da." He didn't smile, didn't frown. His handsome face was just always deadpan.

"Then I guess its not a problem if I leave the door open right?" You grinned, impish and bold as you started stripping. You new you looked good. It was the utter shamelessness of it all that had the Soldat's eyes narrowing ever so slightly. Bending over to drag your panties down your legs, letting him see your bare pussy before unhooking your bra. You sighed with relief as your breasts bounced free.

"Be a good boy and do what daddy paid you for. Watch me." You grinned when you saw him take a step towards you, your pussy gushing as you imagined him grabbing you and fucking you senseless. But he seemed to remember himself and stepped back. Firmly planting both feet and crossing his arms over his chest.

"Coward~." You sang as you stepped into the shower leaving the door open, its glass side walls fogging up as you lathered up your body. Touching every inch of yourself as slowly as possible making damn sure he could follow your hands with his eyes. His pupils were blown wide but it was the only sign he as affected.

You'd have to try harder.

~

"Ah!"

The Soldat was in your room in an instant the next morning even though you never heard the door unlock or open. He was ready for a threat, door locked so there was one less escape route for any intruders.

But all he found was you, on the bed with your legs spread- naked as the day you were born. A pathetic excuse for a plastic cock sliding in and out of your gummy walls as you fucked yourself over and over. One tiny hand was twisting your nipple and you were crying out loudly with every intention of making sure he could hear.

"Fuck!" You moaned as you met his eyes, pure mischief in your gaze. "Shouldn't be a problem, right Soldat? Just, nngh, watch me."

You never even saw him move, but suddenly he was on you. Snatching the dildo and dragging it out of your pussy before throwing it across the room.

"Этого будет недостаточ��о для такой шлюхи как ты." That won't be enough for a slut like you. He growled as he quickly undid his zipper, you barely had a glimpse of his girthy length before he was lining himself up. He didn't even bother to take off his tactical suit before fucking into your slick hole in one overwhelming thrust. It knocked the air out of your lungs.

"M-more!" You whined as you clawed at his back uselessly, your tiny pussy stretched almost painfully wide as you strangled his cock.

"Заткнись и возьми это." Shut up and take it. He was hissing in your ear with ever balls deep thrust, groaning as he felt pleasure for the first time in over 30 years. Your pussy was heaven he was sure. And he was never letting you go.

Every squelch and slap of his hips on your ass filled the room until it was a symphony of decauhery. You were being used, and somehow the knowledge made your blood burn with desire.

"Use me, fuck, cum in me please-" you begged as you felt your orgasm growing. The blunt head of his cock was dragging against the spot inside you that you'd barely been able to reach with the dildo. Your eyes were crossing every time his fat cock bottomed out inside you, and you knew you were going to cum harder than you ever had before.

"Просто теплое место которое я могу использовать по своему усмотрению." Just a warm place for me to use. He purred the words in your ear, and you cried out when you felt his skilled fingers making quick tight circles over your sensitive clit.

You bit down on his throat, the only skin you could reach to stop yourself from screaming as you gushed around his cock. (It was only later, much later when you were being interrogated about where the Asset had gone, that you realized the bastard had made you squirt.)

His grip on your hip became bruisingly tight but you didn't care, not when his thrusts were getting sloppy.

"Do it, cum in me, get me pregnant I don't care just-" His other hand, still slick with your juices slapped over your mouth as he growled at you.

"Я сделаю тебя матерью. Я сделаю тебя своей." I'll make you a mother. I'll make you mine.

You shivered, not understanding anything but the possessiveness in his tone. Your hole clenching around him and he was done for.

His load was endless. He fucked you through it, stuffing his seed as deep inside as his cock could reach. In your lustful haze you realized you truly wouldn't mind having the child of a man like him. You knew he'd protect you both if it ever came to that.

You must have fallen asleep after that because when you came to the window was open, and there was a pillow under your hips.

He was gone.

(pt 2)

[cressidagrey]

Looked to the Sky - Chapter 2

Summary: 

Eira Archeron was neither a Valkyrie, nor a Seer, nor the High Lady of the Night Court. She was, however, Azriel‘s mate with her own mysterious, untrained powers.

Also known as: Azriel tries to court his mate the human way.

Warnings: 

THIS IS THE LIGHTNING IN A BOTTLE SEQUEL! SO READ THAT FIRST IF YOU WANNA READ THIS ONE OTHERWISE THIS MAKES NO SENSE!

Elain Bashing, low Self-Esteem, Cassian is kinda an idiot, mention of murder, mention of stabbing and without @k-godling this would have never happened.

(super pretty dividers by @tsunami-of-tears)

“It’s open!” Eira called out as she heard the knock, her eyes flicking towards the door.

The shadows had just finished playing with her hair, their efforts resulting in an intricately braided updo that she had absolutely no idea how to replicate properly. She wondered who exactly had let the shadows play hairstylist for long enough that they had learned how to pin her hair in increasingly complicated updos, whenever she let them. 

For some reason, Eira had the feeling that it amused them for some unknown reason. And they liked doing it. At night, when she couldn’t sleep, they kept playing with her hair, lulling her to sleep…when she was awake, they braided and rebraided it as often as they possibly could get away with it. And tonight, they had tried two different hairstyles, before finally deciding that this one was the one. Now, they were just finished scattering some blooming Asters through her hair, the purple-blue colour matching a dress that had suddenly been in her closet. 

It was all…very much like a fairytale. 

“Hey,” Feyre said as she entered her room. “Are you ready for dinner?” 

"I am pretty sure the shadows keep stealing your dresses for me," Eira said drily, as she nodded. Feyre blinked twice, taking in the dress that the shadows had trussed Eira into. It was beautiful. A dark bluish purple, with spiderweb-thin lace that covered her arms and heavy silk that fell to the floor.

"That's not mine," Feyre answered with a laugh. "It's gorgeous, but definitely not mine.”

Eira stared at the dress, then to the shadows that quickly flitted through the open door away from her. She just sighed, while Feyre giggled.  "They do seem to be surprisingly delighted at treating you as their lifesize doll," her sister quipped. 

Eira just shrugged. "Well, at least they have good taste," she said with a grin making Feyre laugh aloud.

"Maybe they are just happy that they finally get somebody to dress up. Azriel wears his leathers nearly exclusively after all,” Feyre quipped. 

Eira chuckled at Feyre’s words, thinking of Azriel’s usual attire. It was true, the shadowsinger rarely bothered with anything more formal than his leathers. She turned her attention back to the dress, running her fingers over the lacework of the sleeves. "It’s beautiful," she said quietly, admiring the fabric. "But it’s a bit much, isn't it?"

Feyre rolled her eyes at her words. "It’s not, Eira," she said, her tone slightly exasperated. "Besides, I think a certain shadowsinger may appreciate the effort," she added with a wink.

Eira's cheeks flamed. Maybe...maybe that was the reason why she hadn't protested the shadows and their insistence on dressing her up. Maybe that was why she hadn't protested that dress or the updo...or even the lipstick they had very carefully applied.

Eira had initially assumed that the shadows just enjoyed playing dress up, that they derived some sort of twisted amusement from seeing her in fancy dresses and elaborate hairstyles. But, now that Feyre had brought up a certain Shadowsinger... Perhaps the shadows had a more specific reason for their interest in dolling her up...

"Come on, I want to see if you manage to make Azriel's jaw hit the floor," Feyre quipped.

Eira’s heart skipped a beat at Feyre's words, heat rising to her cheeks. She knew it was silly, knew that she shouldn’t get her hopes up. But the thought of seeing Azriel’s reaction to her wearing that beautiful dress...it made her stomach flutter with something. 

They had agreed to a courtship but she...she knew that for him the mating bond trumped anything. 

That's why he even considered it in the first place, why he was willing to go along with it.

It was...It was something she liked to push out of her mind in a way because she would rather just...enjoy the possibility of having him. Something that she hadn't thought she ever would have. She never thought that she would have a chance.

For just a moment her mind replayed Elain’s vision…They had looked so happy in that vision…had looked so…in love. 

So did it really matter why he wanted to court her? If they could build that? The image that had plagued her since the day of the vision flitted through her mind, the image of a daughter that they could perhaps someday have together.

And yet, something twisted in her gut, a pang of doubt creeping into her heart.

Wasn’t she only asking for heartache? Shouldn’t she not get her hopes up too high, shouldn’t she stop herself from building up too many fantasies in her head?

But she had never been good at telling her heart no. It had always been too hopeful...a bit foolish.

And the thought of Azriel seeing her...of seeing his reaction to her in this gorgeous dress, with her hair pinned up...it sent a thrill of excitement through her veins. 

So she followed along with Feyre towards the dining room, her heart beating fast in her chest. Just a family dinner...just like they had had so many. Granted most of the time she had sat at the edges and had then rambled to Azriel about everything and nothing but...

This dinner would be the same as all the others, she told herself, just like every other one they had shared in the past...the only difference was that this time, she was dolled up in a fancy dress and an elaborate hairdo courtesy of the shadows.

And the fact that she had agreed to let him court her. The human way.

Well, in the way Azriel probably thought was human. She highly doubted that it would pass as courting for any gentleman, but she didn't care about that. She really didn’t care. She would sit through whatever he wanted if he had the chance of…the chance of having him. 

It was so sweet that he was even willing to entertain her like that. He could have just as easily never even thought about it...could have just as easily refused to do anything human because he wasn't human. He was Illyrian...even when she sometimes wondered what Azriel would call himself if she asked. He seemed to have no love for Illyrian customs, much differently than either Rhys or Cassian.

Eira pondered that as they walked. She knew how much Azriel disliked the Illyrian culture, how much disdain he had for some of their archaic traditions, their backward ideologies. 

And yet, he indulged her, willing to do it the human way even though he wasn’t human. It filled her heart with a strange sensation, a kind of warm affection.

It was...endearing, in a way. Sweet, in fact. That he would take the time and effort, simply to let her have a taste of that kind of romance. 

But all of that was nothing against the way her stomach fluttered as she spied him in the dining room, deep in conversation with Cassian and Rhys...Wings carefully tucked behind his shoulders so that she couldn't see the full, massive span of them...couldn't see their majestic beauty. 

And then his hazel eyes looked up and for just a moment it felt like it was just the two of them, everybody else forgotten.

Eira's breath caught in her throat when Azriel looked up and their eyes met.

For a brief moment, everything else around them disappeared, the world slipping away in a rush of colour and sound. It was like the world faded away, leaving just the two of them staring at each other.

She saw the surprise in his eyes, the flicker of shock before his gaze flicked over her figure, taking in her dress, and her hair.

Something flickered in his gaze, something she couldn’t quite place. His stare was intense, and heat rose in her cheeks as his eyes traced over the lace of her sleeves, the shape of her waist, the way the silk hugged her skin. It was...overwhelming, almost, having his attention so completely on her. 

Overwhelming and addictive. 

Eira's heart leapt in her chest, her cheeks flushing under his gaze. She was suddenly very aware of the way the fabric of her dress glided against her skin, how it clung to her figure.

"Damn," Cassian drawled. Cassian's voice jarred Eira out of the moment, breaking the strange spell that had seemed to fall over her and Azriel.

She jerked her head in Cassian's direction, finding him staring at her with an appreciative grin. "Someone's looking very nice tonight," Cassian drawled, his gaze roaming over her dressed figure.

Eira could feel her cheeks flushing even more under his gaze, the heat of them spreading across her chest and neck, embarrassment settling. She knew that dress had been too much, she shouldn’t have…

And then she heard that growl. Eira's eyes widened at the sound of Azriel's growl, the feral sound making her shiver. She watched, slightly stunned, as he shot Cassian a glare that should have set the other male on fire on the spot.

Cassian just smirked at his brother's reaction, his grin widening with smug satisfaction.

"What's wrong, Az," he drawled a hint of amusement in his voice. "Didn't like me looking at your lady?"

Azriel's eyes narrowed further, the muscles in his jaw tensing. He took a step forward, his wings flaring, as if to shield Eira from Cassian's gaze.

"Enough, you two," Rhys said with a sigh. "Cassian, if he kills you, that's on you. You know exactly how that mating bond feels to him right now."

Cassian just chuckled at Rhys' words, his eyes still sparkling with mirth. "Oh, I know," he drawled. Rhys just rolled his eyes at that, his expression exasperated.

Azriel's wings flared a little further, the movement enough to distract Eira's attention back to him. His eyes were still fixed on Cassian, a silent warning in his gaze.

Eira's heart skipped a beat as she took in the expression on his face, the protectiveness that had taken over his features. But she could also see the other, lurking underneath that protective surface. There was a hint of possessiveness, a hint of something much more primal and instinctual. The sight was enough to send another shiver down her spine.

"You do look very pretty, Eira," Cassian said, his voice growing serious and she couldn't help but stare at him. What? She hadn't expected the compliment, especially not after the way he had been riling Azriel only a moment before.

"Thanks," she responded after a moment, her voice quiet.

Nesta just snorted. "Wrong sister," she told her mate drily. "You are supposed to tell me how pretty I am," she pointed out, making Eira laugh.

"You are gorgeous," Eira told her oldest sister, making Nesta snort, her grey eyes sparkling with mirth.

"Did you make the dress?" Nesta asked as they found their seats, Azriel pulling out the chair for her without a word,

Eira smiled as she took her seat, Azriel's hand on the small of her back sending a strange sensation through her body. She watched as he sat down to her right, his wing slightly flared to block Cassian from her line of sight.

She looked back to Nesta, her cheeks still flushed from Azriel's touch.

"No," she answered, a smile on her lips. "The shadows…the shadows picked it out for me."

Nesta raised an eyebrow at her words, her gaze flickering from the dress to Azriel, who was still shooting warning glances in Cassian's direction.

Rhys and Feyre were also exchanging knowing looks, clearly amused by the shadow's involvement.

"They have good taste," Feyre quipped, her eyes twinkling with mirth.

Azriel's wing twitched, his glare deepening. "Don’t give them ideas," he said gruffly.

Feyre just laughed at that, her eyes dancing with amusement.

"Oh, I think they already have plenty of ideas, Az," she said with a smile. Azriel just grumbled under his breath, his eyes flickering to Eira for a moment before looking back to Feyre.

Eira couldn't help the flush that spread over her cheeks as Azriel's gaze flicked over her again. She could feel the heat of it like a brand, making her skin tingle and her heart flutter.

The shadows that had gotten her ready for the night whispered in her ear, their voices too soft for the others to hear. 

He likes it.

Eira barely resisted the urge to shiver at the whisper, Azriel's gaze still on her, his eyes locked on her face. She could see the possessiveness in his gaze, the way he was looking at her as if she were something he wanted to keep all for himself. The shadows' voices purred again.

He thinks you're beautiful.

Eira's heart fluttered at the words, her stomach twisting with a strange sense of...giddiness. She knew it was silly, foolish even, but that possessive gleam in his eyes made her feel...wanted, desired. She couldn't help but smile as the shadows continued to whisper in her ear, their voices soft and sly.

He can't take his eyes off you.

"Would you stop it?" Azriel growled at that moment and she looked up to find the shadows having wrapped themselves around their master, the tendrils of darkness twining around his arms and shoulders.

The sight was both eerie and beautiful, the shadows moving like dark, writhing serpents over his skin. Azriel's eyes flared with irritation as he tried to bat the shadows away, but they seemed to only cling tighter, almost as if they were taunting him.

Rhys and Feyre were watching the scene with amused expressions, clearly enjoying Azriel’s frustration. They really did like to rile him up, it seemed.

Cassian, on the other hand, was grinning like a fool, clearly enjoying the display.

"You just can't keep the shadows in check, can you, shadowsinger?" Cassian drawled, a smirk on his lips. Azriel just growled in response, his eyes narrowing as he shot a glare at the other male across the table. Rhys chuckled at the scene, clearly finding the whole thing amusing.

"It seems like they have a mind of their own," he mused, a small smile playing at the corner of his mouth.

Feyre just snorted, her lips curving into a smirk as she watched the shadows continue their dance around Azriel. Eira couldn't help but laugh as well, the sight of the shadows wrapping around Azriel's form while he sat there looking annoyed was truly hilarious.

The shadows were clearly enjoying themselves, their tendrils moving almost playfully over his broad shoulders and strong arms. Eira watched as Azriel seemed to give in to the shadows' antics, his shoulders relaxing and his expression softening. The shadows still coiled around his arms like snakes, the tendrils of darkness wrapping around his wrists and up his forearms.

He seemed resigned now, his eyes flickering to her for a moment before looking back to the shadows.

"You look beautiful, Eira. The colour suits you," he said quietly, his cheeks reddening.

She could have sworn her heart skipped a beat at his words, a rush of warmth spreading through her chest at Azriel's words. She could feel her cheeks flushing even more as he complimented her, her heart fluttering against her ribs.

He liked it? 

Azriel let out a huff of irritation as one of the shadows extended a tendril to poke his cheek, his lips pressing into a frown.

He reached up a hand to brush the shadow away, but it just twined around his fingers instead.

The shadow seemed almost...playful, the way it wove between his fingers, the touch surprisingly gentle. "Stop it," Azriel murmured under his breath, his eyes narrowing at the shadow.

But the shadow just continued to wind itself around his fingers, almost like a cat begging for attention. Eira couldn't help but grin at the sight, the shadow's antics adorable, even if they were clearly bothering Azriel.

"I don't think they are going to stop until I give in," Azriel finally said with a sigh. Eira chuckled as Azriel finally spoke up, the shadows clearly intent on getting his attention. "I was going to wait until after dessert," Azriel said quietly, "But they seem to have a mind on their own...so…” he hesitated for a moment. “I apologise. I learned that I did it wrong."

She stared at him, her heart plummeting. 

That he did what wrong? Why was he apologising to her? What was… "What did you do wrong?" Eira asked, her voice barely a whisper.

Azriel's cheeks flushed again as he looked at her, the shadows still clinging to his fingers. He took a deep breath before speaking, his eyes never leaving hers. He took a deep breath before speaking, his eyes never leaving hers. "I...I should have given you a gift when I made my first courting overture," he said quietly, his voice gruff with embarrassment. “I am sorry. While I did not know, that is not an excuse for my behaviour.” 

Eira's heart skipped a beat at his words, her eyes widening. She hadn’t expected him to give her a gift, let alone bring it up now.

"You don't need to give me a gift," she protested immediately.

Yes, it was true that...that should have been something that happened. But then, if she was still the daughter of a wealthy merchant, she probably would have met her future husband at a ball and there would have been weeks of flowers and pralines before he asked her to court...and a courtship already was fully expected as a prelude to a formal engagement. By the time a man would have asked her to court, he should have already made his mind up if she was the woman he intended to marry.

Eira's mind flickered to the memory of Elain's courtship with Grayson, the wealthy heir sending her gifts for weeks before officially courting her. And the number of gifts and the extravagance increased tenfold when he requested her hand.

She had never expected Azriel to do anything of that sort.

But the fact that Azriel seemed ashamed... that the shadows were so insistent that he followed the proper courting practices...it made something in her chest warm, the feeling almost like a fuzzy, pleasant burn.

She looked up at him, a small smile on her lips. "You didn’t have to get me a gift," she repeated, her voice soft.

Azriel just shook his head, a stubborn frown on his face. “I did,” he said firmly, his eyes locked on hers. “It's part of the tradition, part of your culture.”

Eira felt her heart skip a beat at Azriel's words, his firm tone making something flutter in her stomach. He was taking this seriously, that much was clear. She could see the determination in his eyes, the shadows still coiled around his fingers as if to remind him of his task.

"Alright," she said softly, her gaze locked with his. "You...you really want to follow proper courtship etiquette?" She asked, her voice almost tentative.

"He got like 10 books on it," Cassian said with a snort.

Eira's eyes widened as she heard Cassian's comment, her gaze shifting to him for a moment before returning to Azriel.

"You...you researched this?" She asked, her voice tinged with surprise.

Azriel just grumbled under his breath, his cheeks reddening even more. "The shadows found me books in the Human Lands.," he muttered, his eyes flickering to the tendrils of darkness still wrapped around his fingers.

But it was Nesta's laugh, a high tinkling sound, her older sister winking at her. "Bring out the goods, Az. I want to know what you ended up choosing."

Eira's heart fluttered in her chest as Nesta spoke, her words sending a strange mixture of anticipation and...giddiness through her.

Eira looked to Azriel, whose cheeks continued to redden under the attention, his wings shifting behind him. The shadows around his fingers seemed almost...encouraging, the tendrils coiling and uncoiling like they were urging him to hurry.

“Let me get it.” Eira's heart seemed to skip a beat as Azriel finally spoke, his voice deep and gruff. He extricated his fingers from the shadow's grasp, the tendrils retracting like they had only been waiting for that particular permission.

Azriel stood from the table, pushing his chair back, and Eira found herself holding her breath.

Azriel crossed the dining room in a few quick strides, his wings flared out behind him as if in excitement. Eira's eyes followed him, her heart still fluttering in her chest.

The other occupants of the room remained silent, their eyes following the shadowsinger as he made his way into the next room.

A moment later, he reappeared, carrying...something.

A harp.

Eira's eyes widened as she saw the harp in Azriel's hands, her heart skipping another beat in her chest.

It was...beautiful, the strings gleaming in the light from the candelabras. The wood was polished to a fine shine, each curve and line of detail flawless.

She could just stare at it.

The sight of it brought back memories from her childhood when she had started learning the harp. When she had dreamed of playing for a court, of  learning every single song there was...when she had...She had one then...a gift from her father...a beautiful gilded one, made out of light wood. It had been smaller than that one, with fewer strings than the 47 she expected this one to possess. This was the kind of harp professional used in an orchestra setting...the kind of harp she had always dreamed of.

Her harp had been sold off along the rest of their possession to keep their money troubles at bay back in the day...and somehow it had been...it had been the worst loss. Somehow the house and her clothing and any jewellery...that hadn't mattered to her as much as the harp.

"Nesta said you used to play," Azriel said quietly, his voice unsure, as he placed it in front other, carefully. Eira's eyes snapped up to meet Azriel's, her heart still fluttering in her chest.

She took in the expression on his face, the uncertainty and the shyness that had replaced his usual confidence. She could see the...the hope in his eyes, mixed with a hint of anxiety as he waited for her response. A small smile tugged at the corner of her lips as she looked at him.

"I...I used to," she finally replied, her voice barely above a whisper.

Her fingers itched to reach out and take the harp from him, to touch the strings. To hold that instrument in her hands and...to run her fingers over the smooth wood, to feel the coolness of the strings as she plucked them.

The memory of how they felt under her touch, the sound they made when she had been younger and could still play...the memories that rushed through her mind made her heart beat faster in her chest.

"I stopped after...after our father lost our wealth," she continued, her voice softer now. "We had to sell most of our possessions, and...well, harps aren't exactly the most practical thing to keep in your house when you're struggling to buy food."

But now...now Azriel was holding this harp out to her. Holding this most wonderful, most beautiful thing...this thing she had lost, this thing she never thought she would hold again.

Tears welled in her eyes as she looked at the harp, her mouth going dry. "You-" Eira's words caught in her throat as she met Azriel's gaze again, the tears in her eyes making his face blurry. "You...you got this for me?" She managed to whisper out.

"It's not a human one," he warned her quietly. "You would probably break it without meaning to...it wouldn't withstand your strength. This ones is fae-made. Made out of Ebony. Your magic will interact with the instrument and...the sound should be even more beautiful."

"It's beautiful," she repeated, her voice soft with emotion.

She reached out an unsteady hand to brush the harp, her fingers tracing over the smooth ebony wood. She could feel the hum of magic under her fingertips, the power contained in the instrument, the magic that was just waiting to be released.

She looked up at Azriel, tears still shimmering in her eyes. "You-" her voice broke for a second before she tried again. "You did all this...this is your courting gift?"

Azriel's cheeks reddened even more at her question, the tips of his ears turning pink. He nodded once, his eyes fixed on her face, his expression almost hopeful. "Yes," he said quietly. "It is."

Eira's heart skipped another beat, the tears pooling in her eyes finally spilling over.

She looked back down at the harp, her fingers still tracing over the smooth wood, her lips trembling. This was...this was the most beautiful gift she had ever received, it was...it was more than she had ever expected, more than she had ever hoped for.

And Azriel had gone through all that trouble, researched her culture and the proper courtship rituals, had found this harp...for her.

She took a trembling breath, desperately trying to contain the swell of emotions in her chest, the tears now falling down her cheeks.

She looked back up at Azriel, meeting his gaze once again, her heart thudding loudly in her chest.

She opened her mouth to speak, to try and say something, a thank you, a...a declaration, anything. But the words stuck in her throat.

Azriel just stood there, watching as she tried to speak, the expression on his face unreadable. The worry in his eyes was unmistakable, as if he wasn't sure how she would react.

The room was quiet, the other occupants of the room watching the scene with rapt attention. Even the shadows seemed unusually still, their usual playfulness and mischief replaced by a strange kind of tension.

Eira took another shuddering breath, trying to collect herself. She wiped the tears from her cheeks with the back of her hand, her heart still hammering in her chest.

She looked at the harp again, taking in every detail of the instrument. The smooth wood, the perfectly tuned strings, the magic contained within. The sheer...beauty of it, the thoughtfulness and care that had gone into choosing it.

It was a beautiful harp. A truly perfect gift.

"It's...it's perfect," she finally managed to whisper, her voice raw with emotion.

Azriel's shoulders relaxed slightly, the worry in his eyes diminishing a little. "You...you like it, then?" He asked quietly, his voice tense with anxiety.

"Like it?" Eira repeated, her voice almost indignant. "Like it? I...Azriel, it's the most beautiful, most perfect gift I've ever received."

She rose, her knees shaky, taking a step forward, the tears still trickling down her cheeks.

"It...it's perfect," she repeated, her voice cracking once again. "And you...you learned about the proper courtship rituals, you...you researched my culture," she continued, her voice soft and shaky. "You did all this...for me."

Eira took another step forward. She took another shuddering breath, her heart beating harder and hard in her chest.

"No one...no one has ever done that before," she whispered, her voice breaking again. "No one has ever put so much thought, so much effort into a gift for me."

Azriel shifted awkwardly, looking as if he were torn between wanting to reach out to her and not knowing if it was the right thing to do.

"You...you're worth it," he finally said, his voice quiet and gruff. "You're...you're worth all the research, the effort...the trouble. You're worth it, Eira."

Eira's heart clenched in her chest at his words, her breath catching in her throat.

No one had ever spoken to her like that, ever made her feel as if they were so certain of her worth. 

She shouldn't be doing this. It wasn't her place to be this forward, wasn't...but still she stood on her tiptoes and pressed a kiss against his cheek, breathing in cedars and mist and Azriel and then pulled back. "Thank you," she whispered."

Azriel's eyes widened in surprise, his cheeks reddening furiously as she kissed his cheek.

He seemed completely taken aback, his wings fluttering slightly in shock. His entire body tensed, as if he suddenly didn't know what to do with himself.

And then, as a moment later, a small, shy smile tugged at the corner of his lips. "You're welcome," he replied, his voice gravelly and rough.

"So are you gonna play something?" Cassian asked, breaking the silence.

Eira's cheeks flamed bright red as she remembered they weren't alone. She had...she had forgotten the others were there, had allowed herself to get lost in the moment, in the emotions and the...the sheer perfection of Azriel's gift.

She pulled back slightly and looked at Cassian's cheeky smile as he teased.

"Not unless you want to go deaf by my out of practice screeching," she said drily. "I'll need to practice before my playing is anywhere near fit for public consumption."

"Oh, come on," Cassian said with a pout. "It can't possibly be that bad. Let us have a taste of the music you're capable of making."

Nesta smacked his arm with a disapproving glare, but the slight upward curl of her lips made him just grin wider.

"I promise you, it really is that bad," Eira replied, her heart still hammering in her chest. "Trust me, you'll be much happier not having to listen to how horribly rusted my playing has become."

Cassian opened his mouth to response but Nesta's elbow ended in his ribs. "Whenever you are ready," her older sister told her gently.

*****

"You're distracted," Rhys's voice cut through his thoughts, making him snap back to the present. He looked up to see his brother watching him with a smirk and an arched eyebrow.

Azriel huffed a sigh, leaning back in his chair and rubbing a hand over his face.

Of course Rhys would immediately notice. The High Lord had always had an annoyingly sharp eye for his inner circle.

He couldn't help himself though as he stared out of the window. Feyre and Nyx were down in the garden...and he had watched how Eira had joined them a few minutes ago, settling herself comfortably under one of the trees, watching her sister and nephew play.

"I'm not distracted, I'm..." he started to protest, but he knew it was useless. He was distracted, his thoughts had been all over the place the past day, revolving almost entirely around a certain Archeron Sister.

Azriel's mind was still filled with images of the previous night, of the memory of Eira's reaction to the gift he had given.

She had been...he had never seen her so emotional before, so overwhelmed, and...he had caused it. He had made her feel that way.

His mind replayed the memories over and over again, the way she had looked at him, with such wonder and gratitude, how she had...how she had kissed his cheek.

Especially after she had...pressed a kiss to his cheek.

After she had seemed so pleased by his courting gift.

A small, satisfied smile tugged at the corner of his lips as he thought back to that moment, the way she had looked holding the harp, the expression on her face when she had realised what he had done.

His heart fluttered in his chest as he remembered how she had looked at him, how she had seemed to forget they weren't alone for a moment, had pressed her lips against his cheek, so soft, so warm, and had whispered her thanks against his skin.

"You're staring."

Rhys' voice broke through his thoughts, yanking him back to reality and away from the memory of her lips on his cheek, her warmth, her scent.

Azriel realised his gaze was fixed on the window, on Eira outside with Feyre and Nyx.

"I also always have this dreamy expression on my face when I think about Eris Vanserra and the Autumn Court," Cassian said sarcastically.

"Shut up," Azriel said irritably, though with no small amount of truth in his words.

He knew he probably had that 'dreamy' look right now. That hopelessly in love, pining look that Cassian teased him about.

"You are as subtle as a bat," Rhys teased, a smile on his face. "We can all tell she's got you wrapped around her little finger."

Another irritated huff left Azriel, but he didn’t deny it. He was wrapped around her little finger. There was no denying that.

"Though your shadows are worse," Cassian quipped. 

"My shadows are not worse," he protested, but his shadows curled and coiled around his fingers, as if in silent agreement with Cassian.

"They’ve been pining for her too," Rhys chuckled, raising an eyebrow. "Have you noticed how often they’re clinging to her?"

"Or how they pick out dresses for her...and braid her hair?" Cassian said with some amusement. “I didn’t even know they could do that!”

"And how they preen whenever she touches them," Rhys added, his voice still full of laughter. "They’re as whipped as you are, brother. If not more."

Azriel huffed another irritated sigh, but he didn’t protest. It was true. His shadows practically worshipped the ground Eira walked on. They clung to her every chance they got, they preened whenever she so much as looked at them. He had absolutely no control over them when they were around her.

"Were where Amren and Mor yesterday?" he asked suddenly instead, trying to change the topic. 

"Well, Amren still thinks she has done nothing wrong," Rhys finally said with a sigh. "And Mor...that's...another thing entirely."

Azriel groaned.

He could imagine what was going on. Amren was stubbornly refusing to apologise for acting the way she had towards Eira, and Mor...he didn't even want to think about it.

"Amren will come around," Rhys assured him. "It will just take some time, some convincing. She's the most stubborn person I know. And Mor..." his expression darkened. "Mor is being difficult."

Azriel huffed another sigh, running a hand over his face.

Of course Mor was being difficult. When was she ever not difficult? He could guess how the conversation had gone between Rhys and her. She probably saw nothing wrong with how she had acted towards Eira either.

"She's jealous," Rhys said with a sigh. Azriel could just stare at him gobsmacked. Rhys shrugged. "She is jealous, Azriel. She's jealous you've found someone, that you're going to court someone else. And she's decided to take it out on Eira."

"That's a damn shitty reason to be this resentful towards someone," Cassian chimed in, leaning back in his chair with a huff. "Especially when we all know that she was never interested in Azriel in the first place."

"Yeah, well, you aren't available to her anymore either," Rhys said drily. "Mor will need some time to...wrap her head around it."

Cassian just grunted, his expression darkening for a moment. It was true. He no longer was available, no longer an option for her. Not that he had ever truly been an option. It had never been anything more than...passing flings.

"Either way, she'll need to stop behaving like this towards Eira," Azriel growled, the thought making his blood boil. "Just because she is upset with me, doesn't mean she gets to take it out on someone innocent."

"That one," Rhys said, raising an eyebrow and pointing towards Eira through the window. She was still outside, now sitting against a tree. Nyx was curled up against her, asleep. Feyre was sitting next to her, drawing something, a lazy, happy smile on her face. Azriel's chest tightened at the sight. “She is more resilient than you think.”

Azriel swallowed past the lump in his throat as he stared at her through the window.

Rhys was right. She was strong. She was so strong. Stronger than she gave herself credit for, even. And her resilience was something he had…always been in awe off. How whatever happened, Eira just seemed to take it in stride, adjusting. 

"I know she is," he said, his voice thick with emotion."But she shouldn’t need to be. I just..." he continued, his gaze still fixed on her through the window. She was laughing about something Feyre had said, her head thrown back, her face lit up with happiness. “I just want to protect her. I want to wrap her up and shield her from everything bad in this world and just…keep her safe.”

"You know you can't do that, right?" Cassian’s voice was quiet, sincere.

Azriel knew he was right. He knew that. He knew he couldn’t protect her from the world, from everything bad in it. That she wouldn’t even want him protecting her all the time.

He knew all that, but still...still the thought of something bad happening to her, still the idea of being unable to protect her…it made his heart ache.

"Welcome to the mating bond," Rhys quipped weakly.

Azriel huffed another irritated sigh.

He knew exactly what he was dealing with. He knew that this...that feeling the need to protect her, to keep her safe at all costs, to wrap her up and shield her from the world...it all came down to the bond, to the instinct.

But that didn’t mean he had to like it. That didn’t mean he had to be content with his hands being tied, with not being able to have control.

It was driving him nuts.

"It gets easier," Cassian promised him. "Just keep in mind, she can hit anybody with lightning."

Yes. If she could control it. 

Which she couldn’t. 

Neither of them had yet broached the topic of training her power with her. Not even to…hone it into a weapon, but only to make sure that Eira didn’t electrocute any innocent bystanders. The problem was only that if they told her that…she would become deathly afraid of her own powers, which would make training them even more difficult. 

And then there was…another matter. "She cries herself to sleep about 4 males that she killed," Azriel said quietly. "I had killed more often than that before I even reached the Blood Rite."

"That’s not the same," Cassian disagreed quietly. "We both know it’s not. You and I are warriors. It’s what we’re supposed to do. Eira is not a fighter. She’s not a warrior. The deaths she caused weigh differently on her, and you know that."

Azriel sighed, rubbing a hand over his eyes.

Cassian was right, of course. The deaths Eira had taken on her conscience…he knew they were different from his or Cassian’s. His own hands were stained a dark red, had been for centuries. They were both warriors, soldiers. They had been conditioned to accept death, to expect and embrace violence. It came with the job. It wasn’t the same for her.

And it worried him. 

"How could the cauldron ever think that I..." 

"The Cauldron has its own reasons," Rhys interrupted, his voice softer now. "We don't always understand its decisions, but it knows what it's doing."

Another sigh left Azriel.

He knew that. He knew the Cauldron was always right, that it knew what it was doing, even if its ways were not always clear. But it didn’t change the fact that he felt unworthy. He felt unworthy of the gift the Cauldron had offered, of a mate at all. Of Eira in particular. 

"I have hundreds of years of blood on my hands," he said, his voice low. "How could the Cauldron pick me for her? How could it think that I am worthy to be her mate?"

“Because you are worthy,” Rhys said softly, his voice almost tender. “More than you give yourself credit for. And because the Cauldron knows things about people that even they themselves don’t know.”

Azriel couldn’t help but scoff softly.

There was no way he was worthy of her. Not in a million years. And it didn’t matter if the Cauldron thought so.

But still, his chest ached as he looked at her, at the smile on her face as she talked with Feyre…Nyx still sleeping in her arms.

Rhys and Cassian were right. He was already wrapped around her little finger.

"You should stay for lunch."

Azriel groaned. He really wanted to, wanted nothing more than to stay for lunch and watch her for just a while longer.

But he couldn’t. The day was already half over, he had work to do.

"I can’t," he told Rhys, the words almost painful to get out of his throat. "I’ve got paperwork to look over, reports to submit, meetings to attend, patrol to"

"Yes yes, we know your schedule," Cassian cut him off with a snort. "And we know that you work yourself to an early grave. You can afford to stay for one more hour or so and have lunch with us. Have lunch with your mate. Aren't you supposed to spend time with her while there are people there to chaperone you?" Cassian wondered. "Isn't that what your books told you?"

Azriel shot him a glare. Cassian only grinned back innocently.

He wasn’t wrong, of course, he was absolutely right.

That was what the courtship was all about, right? He was supposed to show her that he was husband material. That he could provide for her and for any eventual future children.

Azriel shot another look towards the garden, where Eira was still talking with Feyre.

Rhys and Cassian knew they were right, knew that they had him in a corner. He wanted to stay. He wanted nothing more than to spend another hour here, with her.

"Just for that, you and Nesta can accompany us to the symphony this weekend," Azriel said drily. "I got tickets."

Cassian sputtered. Rhys snickered.

"You manipulative bastard," Cassian muttered. "I hate you. You know I hate the symphony."

"Well, as you said, I need to have people around to chaperone me," Azriel pointed out, his voice laced with false sweetness. "I thought maybe you and Nesta would enjoy the occasion." Azriel knew that Nesta would enjoy it. So only because of that Cassian would go along with it. 

"I'll get my revenge, don't you worry," his brother hissed.

"I’m looking forward to it," Azriel deadpanned, a smirk tugging at his lips. It widened when he saw Cassian’s enraged expression.

"You’re the absolute worst," Cassian grumbled.

Azriel couldn’t repress a snort, even as Rhys let out an amused huff.

"You’ll survive," he assured Cassian. "...I think.”

"I’m not so sure," Cassian said darkly. "I think I might just die of boredom."

"Well, Nesta is delighted," Azriel said brightly. "I already asked her this morning."

The betrayed look on Cassian’s face was almost comical.

“You bastard,” he muttered. "You’ve used my mate against me. That’s the lowest blow you’ve ever dealt.”

Azriel only grinned back at him, not sorry in the least. "It’s not my fault you’re whipped, brother,” he turned Cassian’s words back on him. 

“You should winnow right into the box,” Rhys said quietly. Azriel looked up surprised. 

“Eira didn’t do so well with doing outside,” Rhys explained quietly. “It’s getting better…slowly. But it scares her.”

“We would be with her,” Cassian protested. “Nothing would happen.”

“Her brain may understand that, but her heart doesn’t,” Rhys said with a sigh. “It happened outside, so…”

He didn’t end that thought, but he didn’t need to. Azriel understood. 

Lunch was served inside, and Eira seemed to flag slightly. An afternoon nap seemed to be in her future. The knife wound had healed well enough but she didn't seem to be up to her usual levels of ability yet. 

Still, she smiled as soon as she saw him, something that made his heart painfully constrict. Mate, his shadows sang happily. Her smile made his heart ache, made him want to scoop her up in his embrace and just hold her. 

Her face was paler than usual. Clearly, the wound was still affecting her. But the smile on her face, the happiness that lit up her expression as she saw him almost drove his worries away.

Almost.

He took the seat next to her, his shadows curling around her almost immediately, as if as desperate for the contact as he was.

She shot him an amused look, but her hand reached out to greet his shadows, scratching at their invisible heads almost instinctively.

Azriel could hardly keep himself from shuddering at the sight of her fingers running through his shadows. It was almost enough to drive him crazy with the primal, animalistic urges in the back of his head. The urges that urged him to pull her into his lap right there and then, bury his face in the crook of her neck and just hold her. Claim her. Mate.

He shoved them all down as firmly as he could, focusing on his breathing for a moment.

He was painfully aware of how closely Cassian was watching him, a smirk on his face. And based on the way Rhys was watching him, he probably wasn’t doing a very good job hiding his reaction to how she touched his shadows.

Damn it.

Luckily, Eira didn’t seem to realise the effect her actions had on him.

She was still staring at his shadows as if trying to work out how they worked. They clearly loved her. They purred and twirled around her, preening at the attention.

"How are you feeling?" he asked her, desperate for something, anything...to just hear her voice.

She looked up from his shadows to stare at him, her eyes a soft, gentle grey.

"I’m fine," she assured him, her voice so soft it sent a shiver down his spine. "I’ve just been so sleepy all day."

"The wound is still affecting you," he said, his voice low, his gaze studying her face carefully, taking in the paleness and the hint of dark circles under her eyes. "You need to rest." Maybe the symphony wasn't the best idea after all.

Of course, he wanted to spend more time with her. He always did.

But the knife was clearly still affecting her, making her tired, making her sleep longer than usual. The last thing he wanted was to have her exhaust herself with an evening out.

"Well, I hope you are up for an evening out later this week because Azriel got tickets for the symphony," Cassian said, between shovelling food into his mouth. Azriel glared at him.

"...the symphony?" Eira echoed, her gaze switching to him.

"The symphony," Azriel confirmed in a low mutter, shooting Cassian another glare.

He hadn't been intending to spring that on her. He had hoped to ask her a little more subtly She was staring at him, her eyes wide, a little confused, as if she couldn’t quite work out why he had gotten them tickets.

"Nesta and Cassian would accompany us," Azriel said quietly. "If you are up to it. If you aren't..." he trailed off.

Eira seemed to relax slightly at the mention of Nesta and Cassian accompanying them as if the prospect of it not being just her and him but a group event made her feel better. It made some of the tension in his chest ease, knowing that the prospect of going to the evening out didn’t make her anxious.

She smiled faintly, her eyes still a little confused.

"I would love to.".

The tension in Azriel’s chest eased further.

For a moment, he had almost feared she would turn down the offer. He had half expected a protest from her, a reason as to why she really wasn’t feeling well enough to go out. But she hadn’t. She had agreed. She wanted this.

His shadows chittered happily at the thought, twisting around her fingers.

His eyes followed their movements as if drawn to the sight of Eira’s hand touching his shadows.

They were practically writhing around her, as if drinking up the attention, practically begging for more.

Part of him wanted to pull her into his lap right there and then, just to hold her as she continued to pet his shadows.

He suppressed the urge though, forcing himself to look away as Rhys shot him a knowing smirk. He just knew Cassian was silently snickering at him on the other side of the table. Damnit.

He could feel Cassian’s curious gaze on him and knew that his brother had to be noticing how his shadows were acting. They were never so openly affectionate with anyone, except now with Eira.

Azriel couldn’t decide whether he hated his shadows for it or was grateful for them. Hated them for making it so obvious that he himself desired nothing more than to wrap her up in his embrace and hold her close. Or whether he was grateful for them, for getting the little bouts of contact he so desperately craved.

Part of him was tempted to command them to stop, to get them to cool it down so that Cassian and Rhys didn’t notice just how affectionate his shadows were being.

But he also knew how much they loved this, how much they loved her. He could see it in the way they twisted around her hands, in the way they seemed to curl into her touch, as if desperate for more contact.

The rational part of him was screaming that Cassian and Rhys were noticing, that they would have to be blind not to notice it.

The less rational part of him was silently preening, utterly satisfied that not only his shadows but everyone knew that she was his.

But then his brain finally kicked in and he muttered a soft command for them to behave.

To his relief, they obeyed, though not before coiling around her hand one more time. Azriel was half surprised that they didn’t attempt to actually lick her.

He could see Rhys’s lips twitching into a smirk, clearly having heard the command, and based on the grin on Cassian’s face he had also noticed the interaction.

His two brothers were clearly having a field day, noticing every little reaction he had to Eira.

Azriel didn’t care though. Right now, all he cared about was the pleased little smile on Eira’s face.

She seemed blissfully unaware of his shadows acting as they had, completely oblivious to the fact that they were practically worshipping her every move.

It was a thought that both delighted and concerned him.

Delighted, because she still clearly didn’t even know how much his shadows adored her. She had no idea the degree of their devotion to her.

But it also concerned him. It worried him, that she was completely unaware of his shadows worshipping at her feet. Worried him because she had no idea what lengths they would go for her…what lengths he would go for her. 

But the only person he could give the fault for that…it was himself. 

[cherie-doll]

𓆩♡𓆪 Headcanon: Hidden Affection

༉‧₊˚. Ghost, Soap, Gaz, Alejandro, Phillip Graves, Keegan, König, Nikto

・❥・"Audere est facere"

Ghost

Calculated steps, it’s like a slow dance you both partake in

Like an alarm going off in his head, he proceeds with caution

So skeptical of love, his feelings, everything

Even if he slowly narrows the path to you don’t expect immediate love

He doesn’t want to be the only one who gets hurt

He wants you to be his only one

To call out your name and for a warm smile to light up for him

While in a group conversation, he’ll crack a joke or two hoping you’ll laugh

Those softened eyes that rested upon you

Gazes that lasted a little longer than they should’ve

He couldn’t help it

Soap

A hopeless romantic all his life

The lonely feeling that goes away when he’s with you

Lots of daydreaming and heart-racing

That eye contact feels like an electric spark that shoots straight up his spine and keeps him alert for the rest of the day

He lights up when you’re near

The words he sincerely wanted to tell you

You’re the one he desperately looks for every chance he gets

Finds every excuse to see you

Nothing hurts him more than having to ignore you while in front of others

“It shouldn’t have to be like this…”

And he hugs you as if it’ll be the last time he’ll ever get to touch you. every. time.

Gaz

Tries to learn things about you, for instance, your favorite things, your preferences

He may be talking all giddy and comfortably and suddenly go quiet to observe you while you do something

Subtly acting differently when he’s around you

Something in the air changes when you make eye contact

Like a moment of silence and stillness when from across the room you find one another

Electricity runs through his veins when his fingers graze your skin

Traces of a smile that remains on his face long after you’ve talked to him

Leaves love notes hidden among your belongings

Maybe nothing else in the world belongs to him, but he’s at ease knowing he has your love

Alejandro

He’s smug when he notices your voice falter knowing he’s doing something to you

Sees it like a game to see how close he can come to the line between playful banter and genuine interest

A lot of patience testing, a game of pushing and pulling

What he thought would be a light and easily enjoyed game soon turned into something more

The growing heartbeat gets louder until the last second

A sweet game of Russian roulette

You constantly remind yourself to keep your beating heart still

What you don’t know is however many times you’ve had to calm your heart, how much more did he find himself in a tumult of emotions wishing he could come forth with his feelings

Phillip Graves

He hates the way he feels dumb and dizzy when he gets too close to you

Idiot in love but in denial

You start to notice his attraction to you through his trivial habits

Once, he helped you stand up, and the way he grasped your hand and flexed it after you had let go

Not only does he start to show his feelings through wit and charm but also when it comes to your wellbeing

He cares for his Shadows but cares excessively when it is about you

“I have the right to be worried” or “Stop fooling around, you’ll get yourself killed”

Behind those seemingly harsh words is a tender spot that’s reserved just for you to take over

He had hit the limit of his patience when you finally decided to make a move, after that it was smooth sailing

Secret meetups in his office ;)

Keegan

I can’t imagine him gazing at you with those deep blue eyes without it making you uneasy

Just gazing at you would grant him peace

He wishes to devour you; kiss you, touch you, to show how much you ignite passion within him

Treats your mouth as if it were heaven’s gate

Meeting in secret is difficult and not always easy, when more than a week goes by without some sort of intimacy he’ll get jealous

Lashing out because he can’t just stride over to you and embrace you

Firmly takes your wrist and guides you to a secluded area

“Don’t show that smile to anyone else darling, it’s for me only”

He makes it up to you; the little time spent together makes up for the entire day

König

Won’t say anything you have to listen carefully to notice his barely perceptible acts of affection

He watches you, can’t speak, wandering around you without taking his eyes off of you

Every thought naturally flows toward you

Like a sugar craving, he wants a sweet love like this

He stares at you for a long time, waiting for you to fall into his hands when you’re alone

What if it’s just infatuation?

The emotions that are halfway there, might not be that sweet he realizes

He just feels afraid it’ll all shatter if he tries reaching out and making the relationship known

So his eyes wandered around

Sometimes feeling his heart trembling

Daydreams of one day reaching that love like a sweet fruit on the end of an outstretched branch

Nikto

The truth is, it wasn’t love at first sight

He saw nothing distinctive about you right away

He’s never been a man to seek flirting

Although it took time for your subdued personality to come to his attention

When he found a certain liking for you it surprised him

Conversation with you had always been easy

One of you will glance at the other only to find them already looking and neither of you can help but smile

“You know you don’t have to pretend”

Rushed kisses given in secret

Frustration building in his chest, all pent up and ready to burst when he senses you nearby

His heart is thrown into chaos and he doesn’t know what to do, but you’re there to assure him it’s going to be fine <3

[sterifels-blog]

simon "ghost" riley

The first time Simon saw your boyfriend, he knew.

Oh, he knew. Not in that “you’re too good for him” way you half-expected your protective, burly best friend to behave. No, Simon hated him with a ferocity so immediate, so visceral, it made his blood hum a little sharper. He didn’t just hate him. He despised him. Abhorred him. Wanted to roll his sleeves up and grate him into the damn carpet with the sheer force of his forearms alone. And if that wasn’t enough, he wanted to spend the rest of his natural-born life proving to you (and to himself, if we’re being honest) that he was better.

Tighter shirts. The flex of his fists when your boyfriend spoke in that grating voice Simon privately referred to as "discount Casanova." The subtle, almost casual cracks of his knuckles whenever the man dared to open his mouth about you in any way that wasn’t pristine worship. Every time your boyfriend laughed at you instead of with you, Simon would let out a low, bone-chilling chuckle of his own— a rumbling thing, gravelly and sharp, because he wasn’t laughing at all.

And then there was that one night.

It wasn’t like Simon was trying to hover. He wasn’t. He didn’t need to be your babysitter. You were strong, capable, smarter than everyone Simon had ever met— except, apparently, when it came to that bloody waste of oxygen you called a boyfriend. But when he saw the way your smile dimmed just a little too much at something the guy said, the way your fingers tightened around your glass as if to crush it, something ancient and primal roared inside Simon’s chest.

He stayed behind when you went home. Watched the fool stagger out into the night like a walking bad decision. Simon followed him with the quiet, measured gait of a shadow given form—leather jacket snug over his frame, boots heavy, but silent as sin.

Simon wasn’t poetic about what happened next. He didn’t need to be. There was no artistry in the precise, methodical lesson he taught your boyfriend in a dim alleyway under a broken porch light. (Broken now, thanks to your boyfriend's skull, if Simon were feeling particularly cheeky about it.) He made sure the man knew exactly why he was being "affectionately" restructured. And when the lesson ended, Simon left without a single word but with a vivid reminder that would stick for weeks:

stay the hell away.

The next morning, your boyfriend broke up with you via text message. A single line of lukewarm cowardice you barely had time to process before Simon was at your door, arms laden with snacks, beer, and the sweater you always stole anyway.

You curled up next to him on the couch, face half-hidden in the collar of that massive gray hoodie, and let out an exhausted sigh. Your voice was soft when you mumbled- sniffling with a stuffy nose from your previous sobs, “I just don’t get it, Si. I thought he cared..”

Simon didn’t answer right away, gaze fixed on the screen as Finding Nemo played in the background—a film you’d insisted on because you needed something light and harmless. Of course, to Simon, it wasn’t harmless at all. He frowned as Marlin yelled at Dory, the tiny blue fish babbling nonsense with frantic, short-term determination.

“'Course he didn’t care. Idiot didn’t even notice he was playing chicken with a shark,” Simon finally muttered, his deadpan delivery laced with something so dry you almost didn’t catch it.

You looked up, confused. “Huh?”

“Forget your boyfriend,” Simon said, tone flat as a blade. “This is why I don’t swim. Can’t trust anything with gills. Bloody sharks, jellyfish, clownfish...all useless. Why d’you think they call it Finding Nemo? Should’ve named it Simon Was Right: Stay Out of the Water.”

You snorted, unable to help yourself, and Simon glanced down at you, lips quirking upward just enough to show the barest hint of satisfaction.

And there it was. That warmth. That comfort. Simon didn’t need to say it, didn’t need to spell it out for you in big, stupid letters. You could see it in the way his arm stayed firm around your shoulders, in the way he made sure your blanket covered your toes, in the way his ridiculous commentary on Finding Nemo somehow made you feel whole again.

Yeah. You'd find your own way to thank him later.

[silkenwinger]

cherry

mdni. one sided enemies to lovers (?) konig x reader. 5k something. part two here

You wish he would just disappear. That some way or another, you could get him out of your hair. Sure, there’s always leaving your job, but that’s not really convenient, is it.

You wish he was outright antagonistic, mean or just an asshole. Someone who abuses his power over underlings. A self centered idiot who can only think with his dick, who gets other people in danger for his pride.

Yet he’s none of that, and you have to cope with it. Which you are unable to do.

“This fucking thing— ugh!” Snarls Roze, still trying to set up the new tent as shown in the diagram. It falls over with a soft thump and she kicks it again.

“These have to be the wrong instructions,” you tell her, turning around the leaflet. You’ve been at it for more than half an hour now, and they usually don’t take this long. Still, better the dryness of the desert to find out there’s been a manufacturing mishap than pouring rain. KorTac has deployed you here before, which is why you know you can’t just wing it and sleep outside. The night chill is unbearable.

“C’mon. Let me try,” says Horangi, holding out an arm. For all his male pride, he comes to the same conclusion as you and Roze. You’re collectively scratching your heads when a shadow falls over you.

“What is the issue?” König asks, hands on his hips and sun behind him, like some sort of Superman figure. Ugh.

“It’s not setting up.”

“Let me see.” He grabs the leaflet from Horangi’s hands, looks at it for fifteen long seconds, returns it to him and crouches down to pick at the tent. It’s odd, seeing such a big man working on something small. Comical, you’d say.

He sets it up in seven minutes (timed), but admits the instructions could be clearer and less misleading. He rises up and claps his hands on his thighs.

“I used to do a lot of camping, ah-ha,” he says, thumbing at his stupid hood.

“Well, thank you König. We would be sleeping outside without you,” says Roze.

“Yeah man, thanks,” Horangi adds.

You can feel his eyes on you. Those blue eyes, always in such weird expressions. Maybe you would read him more easily if he didn’t have the mask. You don’t care anyway. You muster a little smile so you don’t read as completely sociopathic to the whole group, and he seems happy enough. But you’re not satisfied with him being the hero of the night.

“Camping, uh? Wasn’t it hard, with your height and all?” It’s meant to be a jab to his clear struggles with his size. Something that only really shows outside of the battlefield, you have to admit.

“No, not really. Eh, my parents are tall as well, we would always buy big tents. With friends… a bit. I slept outside once.” His voice is shy revealing this. From previous conversations, you know he wasn’t the most sociable boy in his school. Neither were you but you didn’t end up wearing odd masks.

The normal reaction would be to commiserate him, coddle him for the harsh events of his youth. You’re incapable of that.

“Must have been a pretty clear cut decision from all the others.”

You can feel the side-eye from Roze and Horangi through your head.

“Ahah, yes it was… I was taking two whole spaces for myself…” he says, sounding a bit sad and lost in memories.

“That’s not going to happen now, this is pretty roomy,” interrupts Horangi, and your session of tormenting your team leader is abruptly brought to an end. Pity, but maybe it’s better to keep this a little more private.

“Dibs on the first watch!” Roze yells, and you groan. She always gets it before anyone else!

König, Horangi and you play rock scissor paper to decide the other turn. You lose first and you pout slightly: you hate second watch more than anything. Shaking it off, you start to head to the side, but you're stopped by an arm in front of you.

“We can switch. If you want,” says König, who got the third watch. You crook an eyebrow at him. Does he think you're unprofessional, that you can't even do your job? The fucking gall.

“No thanks. I don’t need handouts,” you turn your nose up. Horangi scoffs, which makes you turn to glare at him. König has no real reaction, just murmurs something between himself. This time you really leave.

Hour later, peaking your head out of the tent door, you shiver at the difference in temperature. You hate missions without safe houses…

“Ah, nice. Slept well?” Greets Roze when she sees you. You shake your head.

“More of a nap than a night’s rest,” you sigh as you turn to sit down next to her. You suppose she’s not really sleepy, but anyway, you enjoy her company.

“Hey,” she calls your name. You hum to show her you’re paying attention.

“You know I respect you. You’re a great fighter,” you preen at that, “but what is up with that?” Your face falls at that.

“What are you talking about?”

“You and König, c’mon. You’re bullying the guy! And I’m always in favor of mistreating men, but then he doesn’t fight back at all, and it’s just pathetic to watch. What even is the satisfaction in that?” She sounds genuinely baffled. Panic rises in you: you never actually thought you’d get cornered like this.

“He irks me, okay?” You try to justify yourself as you shift in your seat. You haven’t really interrogated much on why you feel this way. You figured it was just a normal reaction to König himself, and everyone was just better at hiding it.

“Irks you… yeah, he isn’t the smoothest guy or anything, but you’d think he was Satan the way you describe him. He really just fights, eats, sleeps and talks with you and Horangi.” She sits with that for a moment and just looks at you, really looks at you. “Maybe you’ve got something going on, I think he’s quite fond of you actually.”

“Fond of me… Roze, what the fuck are you going on about?” You exclaim, on edge. It’s far too late (or early?) to really express yourself in any way that makes sense. “He probably feels the same way I do about him, which is annoyance. He can’t be that thick not to realize I’m being antagonistic.”

“Hmm, if you say so.” She gets up and pats your shoulder, tiredness showing up in her limbs. “It’s not really my business. See you tomorrow,” she waves as she enters the tent, dismissively. It’s like she saw you being too defensive and thought you were a lost cause…

Your watch is uneventful and boring and cold and you can’t stop thinking about what Roze told you. Recounting your experiences with König, you think back to the first time you met. It stings to say it, but you’d felt intimidated, shaking the hand of a man almost feet taller than you, clad in an executioner hood. His hand was a bit cold and clammy, which was in contrast with his appearance. The way he shook your hand was unusual too. Men in the military are quick to establish dominance– the sadistic ones grip women’s hands so hard, it almost feels like they’re trying to strangle them. König’s handshake was delicate, and his eyes were oddly wide. Far from what imagination could conjure about his figure.

Starting from when you were put under his command, you’d seen König make an ass out of himself pretty often. Never on the battlefield– he was akin to a god on there, his strides decisive, his bullets accurate, and his violence lavish. For that alone you’d never send in a request to change teams: you know what you leave but you don’t know what you’re going to find. The issues with König lay in that creepy high pitched tone of voice he has sometimes while narrating stories, or the way he appears to have zero space awareness while moving around base. You witnessed him hitting his head or side on door frames far too many times for comfort. In some ways, it kinda killed the respect you could have for him as a leader. But then you’d watch him clear a room in a few bloody seconds, and you’d have to give it to him again. Unfortunately. But it’s now apparent that you can’t cling to any justification that will make sense to other people without you sounding completely out of your mind or like a bitch. Which you can be.

Checking your watch, it’s indeed time to go back to sleep. König hasn’t shown up by himself, the oaf, so you need to go wake him up. Ugh…

Crouching, you enter the tent. Horangi is still snoring away, thankfully not too loudly. You get on your knees to move more quietly and crawl your way to the horizontal column on the back. It’s hard to see well in the darkness, but König feels oddly still in his cot. You’d think he trashed around in his sleep like he does when awake.

Once you reach him, you touch his shoulder, murmuring his callsign not too loudly. No reaction. You do it again, this time a bit stronger, and he still doesn’t wake up beside grumbling some incomprehensible gibberish. Already irritated, you grab him by both shoulders and shake him alright. You realize you’ve made a mistake only when your arms are being coiled by something so tight you think your blood flow has stopped. Loud breathing can be heard in the closeness of the space– it is right in front of you.

“König,” you whisper, “it’s me. I’ve come to wake you up.” If there’s any fear in your voice you hope your disgust still dominates it.

“Scheiße– sorry,” he says, voice thick with sleep, and you think he blinks or starts to understand where you two are. You relax a bit in his hold, shifting on your folded legs, and he finally realizes he’s still holding you.

“I’m sorry, sorry. I was dreaming,” his hands brush the sides of your arms before releasing you, as if appeasing a dog he accidentally stepped on. You scowl. He finally starts to move and sits up, his torso an even darker mountain in the obscurity.

“Are you going to sleep here?” He asks, voice high pitched, you’d say almost nervous as you move closer and don’t retreat to the other side of the tent. Your scowl gets deeper.

“I’m already here and they’re all the same size,” you say, taking your place in the cot. It’s comfortably tepid, to your pleasure. “It’s warm, too. You can sleep on mine when you’re done.” Considering the affair over, you bring the cover over your body and settle down. It smells a bit like him.

König is still crouching next to you: other than his breath, you can tell he’s there by the noise of his nails scratching up and down on his pants. Still not hearing him move, you raise your head.

“Aren’t you going outside?” Your tone could be meaner and more acidic, but drowsiness softens you, too.

“Yes… I’m going…” He sounds uncharacteristically reluctant, like he wants to oppose but knows he can’t. What, is watch duty too common for your team leader? You tut and turn over, and finally you hear him put his gloves on and walk outside.

You wake up to the sound of people speaking some hours after. Sighing, you get up, stretching away the ache from basically sleeping on the ground. It takes you a second to understand you’re not in your own bed and you’re in König’s instead. Getting up, you grab your utilities from your bed and exit the tent. In the makeshift camp, you see Roze and Horangi chattering away with instant coffee cups, and König working on his rifle. Roze sends you a charged look, to which you reply with a confused expression.

“Good morning, Sleeping Beauty. That your new callsign?” She pokes at you, laughing.

You groan and walk over the coffee pot.

“Why didn't you wake me up?”

She shrugs, turning over in her thermal jacket. “We don’t have to be there before oh nine hundred. You can sleep on company time,” she finishes her coffee, throws the cup away and enters the tent again to dress up. You bite your lower lip and pour some for yourself, casually glancing over your male teammates. Horangi is just hovering, no doubt done with his preparations since he’s been awake for longer. König is still cleaning his rifle, and he hasn’t spared you a glance. You decide to fix that.

“You want to clean it so hard you can look at yourself during fights?” Snickering, you come up behind him. König slightly jumps, his hands clutching the rifle hard in order for it not to fall.

“Ahah, it was a bit filthy from yesterday. But now it’s clean,” he puts it down gently and carefully, always careful around guns. You look at him from behind your coffee cup. As always, it’s hard to tell what he’s feeling with the mask in the way, but he’s being particularly evasive today. To the point he hasn’t even looked you in the eye yet. Still, he turns to face you.

“What’s up with you today?” You ask him. You’re used to seeing him a little less down. If he isn’t feeling well, it could turn massively bad for all involved.

“Nothing. I hope the mission goes well.” He sounds more sure now. You shrug. His body moves as he stands up, and as always it unsettles you. But you refuse to address whatever that means, so you reply nonchalantly, “It seems pretty straightforward.”

“Ja…” He shuffles over his feet. You lean a bit over, wondering if he has anything else to say. He doesn’t, but he finally looks you in the eye: you keep looking at each other until Horangi speaks out of the blue and says it’s time to move. You turn abruptly and go join Roze in the tent.

It could have been over in a second. The building you were meant to go in, or what remains of it, has been reduced to a pile of burning debris, explosives turning it outside down. And you would have been none the wiser as it’d turn your guts out, too.

“Holy shit,” you whisper, and Horangi next to you urges you to move along, to follow König. König, who was the one to actively tell you and Horangi to not split from his command. You’d cringed, but followed him anyway, unkeen to disobey, and Horangi always listens to König anyway. And now you were alive because of a decision König made. Again.

Another successful assignment from KorTac. Please feel free to contact us again for any inquiry.

Looking outside the helo, you observe the silent dunes you’ve just left.

This always happens, you reason. Someone has a hunch. Another got a call from his grandma telling him not to go. You dream of a different path from the one that you’re supposed to take.

Why is König so good at this? It’s good that he’s good at this. You’d be missing your limbs otherwise. He sits across from you, knees brushing with yours. His eyes are glazed over, drowsy, hands folded together. An innocent visage, if one discards the blood over his clothes.

Ire crashes over you like waves. This fumbling man, almost stuck eternally in his adolescent, awkward state, is fucking great at his job. Far better than you could ever hope to be. Not only is he genetically built for hard conditions, but he’s also gifted with a natural sense for the battlefield and military tactics.

You’ve been thinking about him far too much lately. Looking at his back, at his incredibly toned legs. Torn between the long lasting distaste you’ve had for him and… whatever admiration you begrudgingly hold for him.

A light turns on in your mind.

That makes sense.

The Hungarian base is one of KorTac’s smallest. It’s usually bare from anything but the basic necessaries, and it has very few permanent workers. It’s the same case this time. The four of you and the pilot walk in a ghost town. One worker greets you like he had no idea you were even supposed to land there. They need to stop firing communication people in this company.

“König,” you muster a sweet tone, fighting the bile that comes up in your throat. König turns from walking with the others to face you, immediately alert.

“Can we go… somewhere private?” He freezes for a second, and then nods, eyes a bit wary. Fine. You honestly thought he’d be more hesitant. Maybe Roze does have a point.

You walk for a bit side to side and then open a random room in the corridor, furnished with just a long table and a number of chairs not appropriate for its length. You close the door and stand there, deciding you’re not going to sit. Yet?

Fuck, you don’t actually know how to go about this.

“So,” you start, “how do you think we’ve been getting along?” You ask, trying to test the waters.

“Ehm. Pretty good, I’d say,” he replies, accent thicker than usual. Your doe-like expression immediately changes to a skeptic one. You tilt your head, calculating.

“You don’t think I treat you a bit differently than the rest of our teammates?”

He looks around, like he knows this question is a trap. You’d be more annoyed if it wasn’t so fun to have him all for yourself to tease.

“I think we are friends… you get along more with Roze, but still…” He fidgets at his missing belt loop. Ah, goddamn, that’s another stupid thing about him, why can’t he put a belt on properly?

“Friends? We are friends to you?” You ask, tone clearly disbelieving.

“Yes… are we not…?” König’s voice is a whisper now, insecurity leaking over and filling the whole room. Oh Jesus. Now you really feel like a middle school bully.

“I think… that I kind of have a problem with you, König…” You tell him, weirdly meek. There’s no other way to go about it. You wish he had the same mixed feelings you obviously hold for him, but instead his are tragically simple and gentle minded… What a contrast from the cold, calculating man that saved your life this morning.

“What problem?”

“Nothing really… it’s just that you distract me… a little too much.”

“Distract you like how? Is it something I do?”

“Yes, but you can’t change anyway,” you confess. And, deep inside you, you don’t want him to change. Part of the reason you can’t stand König, after all, is how he embodies some part of you— the one not carefully curated to be as badass and hardhearted as possible, but one that instead just is, even if it’s uncool. You’ve desperately tried to hide it all this time, convinced it could only hinder you in your career– and then König shows up, and not only is he one of the best soldiers you’ve met in your life, but he’s also unapologetically himself all the time. And it doesn’t stop him from achieving anything.

This plan is stupid anyway. König doesn’t seem to be the man who agrees to casual sex. Hell, sometimes it doesn’t seem like he’s even aware of the concept.

“Maybe I’m the one that has to change teams… If we just can’t find a solution to this problem of mine…” This is bait: you could be more explicit, but maybe you really do need to change teams. You can’t be consumed by thoughts of your team leader, it’s just embarrassing. This sexual attraction (but also resentment) you hold for König can’t have you zone out in an active combat zone.

“No!” He says, voice loud and clear, his tone filled with panic. “Please… I…”

“You what?”

“I… I like you.” He confesses, eyes low. His hands are trembling a little.

Five seconds pass before you elaborate a reply to that.

“König, I treat you like shit!” The exclamation probably surprises you more than it does him.

“S-So?” He pants, what little of eyebrows you can see low, pupils dilated only a slight blue circle remains of his irids.

“So? How low is your confidence to like me when I insult you all the time?” You hiss, mere centimeters away from his face. How bad have his relationships with people been so far if he considers you a person worth liking?

You lower your eyes and see that his knees are bent in order to be closer to your height. If your mind wasn’t already made up, this would be the turning point. He follows your gaze down his body with his eyes and whimpers when your eyes lock on his bulge. Your little stress problem is going to get solved alright.

“You like me? Alright. We can go there, if you want. But remember, this is for me and my problem. Got it?” You point at his chest and he nods frantically at that, like he can’t believe this is really happening.

“Fine then. Take off your clothes.” You order, taking a step back and leaning your back on the absurdly long table. You’d make him remove his mask, but that feels like an additional step in intimacy you’re not sure you can ask of a man you claim to hate to the majority of people you know. And, most of all, you can’t force him. You’re out of bitterness for the day. It doesn’t mean that you’ll make it easy for him, though.

König clutches at his pants, taking one long leg out and then the other, remaining in his standard boxers, erection barely hidden behind them. He then moves to his jacket, which he drops to the ground, and then his compression shirt– his pecs are reddened by the blush you’re sure covers his whole neck and face. Your hand points down, and König immediately drops to the ground, so you can beckon him over with a slight gesture. He crawls over to you, stopping right in front of your booted feet.

You deeply enjoy ordering him around, so why stop now.

“Unhook my pants,” you tell him, “but don’t remove my panties yet.” He nods and brings his trembling hands to your belt, undoing it faster than expected, to then lower your pants to your ankles so he can move more comfortably between your legs.

“König,” you call out his name.

“Hmm?” he purrs, barely taking away his eyes from your clothed pussy. You think he’s been getting progressively closer.

“What are we going to do… with your mask?”

“Don’t worry,” he raises a thumbs up, like a huge fucking loser that you’re somehow attracted to, “I can manage.”

“Well then, manager,” you snark, irritated once again, “proceed. Eat me out.” He takes one hand off your leg to uncover his lower face– you only see a flash of it before it is hidden to you again.

He digs in, at first sniffing you, and then licking you through the cotton of your underwear. The warmth of his body is scorching in the chill air of the unused room. His tongue diligently brushes against your clit and slit until your gusset is soaked, and only then he moves them to the side to make direct contact with your pussy. You hiss as your elbow falls down on the table, your legs now spread open even further as he sucks on your clit. Apparently he does know what sex is.

“Can I use my fingers? Please?” He looks up, hood now covering him completely again.

“Hm… let me think on it…” you pretend to really ponder on it, and you see his eyes get bigger and wetter.

“Please!” he begs again.

“Alright, go ahead big guy,” you decide to throw in a compliment for his begging. After all, he’s being quite good. So much for the strict dominance.

His finger penetrates your entrance slowly at first, maybe afraid of going too fast. He takes his sweet time exploring, seeing which movements or spots really make you welp.

“Don’t get distracted now,” you tell him, kicking him lightly on his back with your heel. This is about you, not his curiosity. He straightens his back and starts licking you again, eager and enthusiastic. To think you’ve been just boiling over in your anger when you could have made good use of him.

You can feel your climax readily rising up, spurred by König’s slobbering care. Your hand reaches to keep him closer to you, and you think you can almost feel his hair under the hood. Longer than you expected. The mounting sensation and heat comes to a high and you come, strangled moan and head thrown on the table. König keeps licking and fingering you until you forcibly tear him apart from your pussy.

After the momentary bliss, there’s a moment there when you think about what you’re doing. If this is simply about getting off, the encounter can end here, even though you could be more satisfied. You’re not sure it’s only about that, though. König is panting in front of you when you raise your head, calm besides his breathing. You look at the sheer size of him, and think of his selflessness and his patience dealing with you. And then you look down at the stain of precum on his briefs and go what the hell, sure.

“Can I touch you?” You ask him, but before you can even finish the question he’s already saying yes yes yes.

Your hand brushes his bulge and he jolts, toes high. You scoff a little, entertained by his always so vivid reactions. When you take his impressive cock out, you give it an experimental jerk and see him jump even higher.

“God, König, keep it together, will you now?” You laugh derisively at him, to which he just grumbles a bit sadly.

“What do you want, huh? Want me to jerk you off? Want to fuck me?” You ask teasingly, getting even closer to his masked face and stroking his cock. Once again, he just mumbles. The still unresolved irritation rears its ugly head, and after squeezing his head until he yelps you let go of him.

“I’m not going to do anything if you don’t tell me. I’ve had it with your mumbling,” you snarl and cross your arms. König’s entire body animates and tightens at his panic, and his arms leave his sides to tentatively reach out to you.

“Y-You can do whatever you want to me.”

“Pathetic answer. Pick something, or I’m getting out of here and leaving you hard and leaking.” He finishes reaching out then, and grabs your hips softly, almost as if afraid of hurting you. One of your legs snakes around his.

“I want…” He starts, unsure and twitchy.

“You want?” You encourage him, squeezing his arm not so gently.

“... to fuck you.” He whispers, ashamed. You laugh in his face. He must come from a different planet, a different universe altogether. How can a man of his size be so submissive? It feels like an impossible combination, but you’re not complaining.

“Go ahead, then,” you tell him sweetly, and he nods only once this time, decisive. He grabs his dick then and reaches your entrance. Both of you are so soaked it’s almost effortless: his cock fills you and more, to the point the last inch of him takes more time and care. But you can almost feel him in your guts due to his length. König groans when settles inside you, and moves his arms to hold you in a lover’s embrace. You can feel his ragged breath next to your ear. A bit baffled, you move your arms to hold him too. The smell you inhale is the same you felt last night, so utterly him.

“Alright?” You whisper next to his ear, the soft brush of his hood on your cheek.

“Perfect… so hot…” he replies, squeezing you even harder. You sputter a bit at that, not expecting it, but squeeze back.

“You can start moving now.”

His first thrusts are uncertain and slow. You caress his mighty back to encourage him, and then your hand goes lower and you grab a handful of that ass. He gasps and you laugh again.

“You’re so big,” you tell him, “I don’t know how you even fit in me.” He straight up moans then, and drives so hard in you he almost knocks the wind out of you. Feeling him get more desperate, you sneak a hand between you to brush at your clit, helping yourself get there. König rushes when he feels you get tighter, and you have to hush him to calm him down.

“Just a bit more,” you tell him, “resist a bit more.” He just heaves as an answer.

He keeps a good pace, not too slow or too rushed, but when he starts jamming a little you know he’s close. He calls out your name, tone worried.

“I’m about to…” You grab him by the neck then, at least what you can hold, and he stills, in what is no doubt a great exercise of restraint. The torture could go on for longer, but all things considered he’s endured enough from you. Somewhere along the way this has stopped being about you and your problem, and has begun to be his as well.

“Let’s do it together,” you just whisper as you let go of him, hand going back to touch yourself. He mewls, this big puppy of a man, and you moan when his cock hits that special spot inside you. You come again, locking your legs around his waist, and he stutters and groans as he releases inside you, nosing at your neck. You swear you can feel his cum spilling out.

The two of you lay there for a moment, or two, or three. König’s face is still hidden in your neck, his back no doubt uncomfortable. He mouths something against your neck you don’t know how to decipher. Slowly, and reluctantly, you push at his shoulders. He rises then, and you immediately miss his heat and the feel of his body caging you in. Worst of all is when he takes his cock out of you– the gaping feeling is unbearable, coldness of the air hitting directly your tender core. König is looking at you like he doesn’t know what to do, which is exactly the case. You’re not so sure yourself. It’s the first time you sleep with a coworker you have a complicated relationship with.

“There’s the debrief…” you tell him, unconvinced. He knocks his head up, like you just reminded him, woken him from a spell.

You put your pants back on while König redresses. Looking at him, as those big muscles move and flex, you feel your desire for him rise again, but you’ve been gone for long enough. Roze and Horangi will already be suspicious.

Before you exit the room, you grab König by the arm. He takes a step closer to you, and you flex a bit on your toes to look at him in the eyes better. Moving your hand, you tenderly touch his face. He closes his eyes.

“König… you can’t let yourself be bullied all the time,” you brush his cheek through the mask and he leans on your hand.

“But I like when you tease me,” he says, head bowed. You giggle a bit at that.

“Then only I can do it, okay?”

He nods. You swear you can feel his smile through the cheap cotton of his mask.

[sugurouge]

— call her my obsession : ghostface! ex boyfriend! endo yamato x f!reader

content warnings! DARK CONTENT, mask kink, slight stalking, hunter/prey, possessive topics, lovesick endo, lots of praise, marking, biting, public sex, pet names (doll, good little thing/ thing, darling, bunny, princess, sweetheart, he rambles), dubcon, yandere themes, slight strangling&asphyxiation, hair pulling, remnants of conditioning, toxic relationship, cunnilingus, rough sex, manhandling

summary: endo would do anything to please. even if you have scratched him out of your life months ago, he would never give up on the person he loves that easily. when will you learn that he lives to make you happy? maybe if he brings your wildest fantasies to life, you will let him in again. in the end, he is nothing but hopelessly devoted to you

wordcount: 2.8k | my kinktober masterlist

a/n: this is my piece for the tokyo station ghostface collab! i hope you will enjoy <3

──── ✧*･ﾟ*✭˚･ﾟ✧ ────

by clicking read more you are agreeing to consume dark content. don't interact if you cannot differentiate fiction from reality.

It all began at a silly Halloween party. You showed up dressed provocatively, in a skin-tight black bodysuit and a laughable excuse for cat makeup, topped off with a pair of fake ears. It looked cheap, but in the best way possible, a pair of icy blues noted amused. His brave little bunny hiding in cat clothing.

Throughout the night, you felt his presence, like a chilling gust of wind that had shivers crawl up your spine. Yes, someone was watching you—someone hiding behind a rubber white mask. You saw many of said mask that night, but he stood out. The tight fitting black turtleneck, muscular build, gloved hands. Everything made him look too hot to be at this shabby party. 

He knew you were watching him, lusting after him. You were probably halfway gone the moment he first touched you. Strong hands hovered over your hips as you swayed to the playlist's songs. Despite the booming of the music, your pathetic mewl rang through to his very core. The tremble of your glossy lips told him all about the dirty thoughts that were racing through your pretty mind.

Naughty little thing.

How dare you leave him alone on the dance floor after eyefucking him as much as he did you? You were an open book, playing hard to get like the princess you are as your heels carried you through the crowd. Yet, that longing gaze over your shoulder was all he needed to keep following you. He could almost smell your arousal. The thought of your wet pussy made him salivate, made him miss everything you two once had even more. Sharp canines dig into his bottom lip to keep him grounded. 

He had to focus; he couldn’t lose you now. 

Not when you finally made it outside the abandoned house, moonlight casting you in an ethereal glow, making you look like an angel.

But where are you taking him? Why are you so certain he’ll follow you? 

With only one goal in mind, your feet follow the pathway until you reach the edge of a little forest. You can’t help the curiosity that screams at you to just give all this a try. Those scenes in horror movies that make you unconsciously press your thighs together, make you bite your nails until your old company pointed out your adorable reactions. It was embarrassing back then, realising that such twisted scenes turn you on, and even more so, the wish to be chased for once. You never expected this to actually happen. 

So this is all your own fault. Because of your stupid social media and movie obsession. What kind of idiot would actually want to play catch in the woods with fucking Ghostface? With a stranger of all things. Your ancestors would be so disappointed. 

The forest looms ahead, dark and foreboding, each shadow seeming to stretch out, eager to swallow you whole. Your breath quickens, heart pounding in your chest as you venture deeper. The moonlight barely pierces the dense canopy above, casting eerie patterns on the forest floor.

It all seemed like child’s play, until actual fear settles in your bones. Until your heels make your escape harder, getting stuck in the dirt or caught on roots again and again. The game has turned dangerous, as adrenaline surges through you. The echo of your pursuer's footsteps grow louder, closer.

He teases you with the cracking of branches beneath his heavy footwear, he must have an easy time stalking behind. “Sweetheart, where are you bringing me?” His raspy voice rings through the trees, as clear as if he were to stand right behind you—looming above your smaller frame like a starved wolf. Your mind races, torn between the intoxicating excitement and the creeping terror as a whimper seems like your pathetic answer to his question. You have fantasised about this moment, but reality is far more intense. The fear is real, and so is the man chasing you. “I thought you wanted to play with me as much as I wanna play with you, bunny~” 

How dare you try to get away from him?

Maniacal laughter echoes through the woods as Endo watches you stumble through the dark, refusing to speak with him, you seem unable to think. Are you really that scared? "Stop trying to run from me," he warns, impatience starting to lace his voice. "You were such a good little thing, got me all riled up. Now let me catch my reward."

The forest seems to close in around you, shadows dancing and whispering secrets as you desperately search for a way forward. But the footsteps of your pursuer only grow louder, the sound of leaves crunching underfoot mixing with your staggered breaths. Endo revels in the chase, the joy of witnessing your fear, and the promise of what comes next.

"I want the woods to hear your pretty moans, all for me," he nearly moans the words as he tears off the Ghostface mask to see better. His crazy blue eyes lock onto you, the moonlight illuminating his face, twisted with a mix of lust and madness all for you to see. 

You stumble upon the initial scare, heart pounding wildly in your chest. How? Why? Out of all the people in the world. “No backsies~” Endo warns, as you lose sight of him in the trees. Anyone, anyone but him. You hide behind a tree, eyes heavy from the tears you were fighting back now spilling free. The forest, once a place of curiosity for your dark fantasies, feels like a trap. And Endo is closing in on you. 

It’s an eerie atmosphere as silence holds your body still like a ghostly embrace. You are too scared to speak, move, or look. You should really be on the lookout for your surroundings, but your eyes remain tightly shut, tears seemingly unending as they ruin your makeup and taint your cheeks.

The stillness is unbearable.

Until Endo reaches you. His strong frame overwhelms you in an instant. Somewhere along the way he rid himself of the constricting sweater, freeing his heated skin to let his signature tattoos greet you. The sudden proximity of his body wraps a blanket of intense, nearly unbearable heat, around you. It battles the stark contrast of the chill that clings to your body. His hand grasps into your hair recklessly, yanking you back until you have no choice but to stumble into his broad chest. The tattoos that snake along his arms are suddenly around your neck, his fingers pressing into the delicate skin to successfully constrict your breath.

Endo hums cheerfully, much unlike the given situation, his sugary voice vibrates against your ear as he whispers, "Found ya!" The sweetness of his words contradicts sharply with the crude actions that follow as he presses you against a tree, his teeth bruise your shoulder before he nibbles along your neck.

His canines break your skin with ease as his nails dig into your hips, to perfectly hold you in place. You feel your body break beneath his strength, effortlessly being handled like Endo's favourite toy when he arches you into the tree, your ass out for his cock to rut against while he abuses your skin, littering it with love bites. "Fuck me, you smell so good, pretty thing," he murmurs while shamelessly inhaling your scent, just as sweet as he remembers. “I’ve missed you so much, you can’t imagine…”

Deep, raspy moans of your name and filthy mumbles are a haunting symphony of his deep love. 

He can no longer contain his excitement. The need to have you, to feel you, to taste you again reigns over him. Endo's large hands run along your outer thighs before moving to the insides to let his fingertips tease your overly sensitive skin. Greedily, he cups your pussy in his palm, his fingers brushing against your clit through the fabric. Oh, he loves how much you leak because of him. He has no other choice but to rub in just how much your body reacts to him. 

You fulfil Endo. The pathetic cry that escapes your lips? Heavenly. The plea of his name? Delicious. And the nimble fingers trying to push against his strong hand? "Fuck, you’re so cute," Endo whispers in a most lovesick way possible.

But enough playing around. Enough hiding from him. Endo focuses back onto the task ahead, onto the flimsy bodysuit you’re wearing. Which is, by the way, so easy to tear, to conquer what he needs, just like that: His fingertips dig into the fabric between your thighs and the harsh ripping sounds have you jolt awake, have you pull away from his grasp like a spoiled brat—he hates brats.

"Stop putting up a fight," he murmurs, "You asked for this." The sharp sting in your scalp is a brutal reminder of your place as Endo yanks your hair once more, pulling you back into his grasp. Your head rests on his shoulder, his crazed gaze locking onto your widened eyes, fear evident in your pretty pupils. Two fingers pump deeply into your cunt, scissoring your walls to prepare you for his own twisted desires. "Look at you, clinging to my fingers like a cockhungry little monster," he chuckles, relishing in his own words and your ashamed reaction as you struggle to maintain eye contact. 

"Why don’t your pretty lips beg for me as well?" he whispers into your ear before his teeth graze your earlobe, sending shivers down your spine. "Beg for me to fuck you out in the open. Beg for me, come on, pretty girl, I need you to tell me how desperate you are for me right this fucking moment." His eyes widen with excitement, a manic grin spreading across his face, making him appear almost unhinged—yet, to you, insanely hot? 

His maniacal love brings back memories you repressed. No matter how sick his affliction was, it filled you like nothing else. And now that he’s back, Endo will make sure he never messes that up again.

This is all you wanted, isn’t it? The hunt, the chase, the inevitable claim of the prize. You nod quickly, lips pressed tightly together before they part again, though you can’t stop grinding against him like an animal in heat. "Please, fuck me, take me, I’m all yours, you won, I really, really wanna—" Your pleas are cut off by a high-pitched moan as he thrusts a third finger into you. Your eyes roll back from the intense stimulation, but a sharp spank to your arse drags you back to reality.

"Didn’t say it was enough—go on," Endo urges, his eyes searching your face, desperate for praise. "Can’t think of anything but getting fucked by you tonight. Please, please, please, I need you!" Of course you do. And he needs you just as badly. He knows you so well, knows exactly how to make your sharp tongue forget how to form words, how to make you chant his name like a prayer. The sounds falling from your lips fuel his madness, his eyes frantically searching yours for every scrap of affection you can offer him in this obscene display.

Your back meets the rough bark of a tree as Endo lifts your legs effortlessly, placing them on his shoulders as he kneels before you like a man devoting himself to his goddess. You barely have time to catch your breath before his mouth is on your pussy, his head buried between your thighs as he laps at your folds with fervour. His tongue, hot and insistent, drags along your puffy lips before pushing against your throbbing flesh, circling your clit with maddening precision. His groans vibrate through your body, and you clench your thighs around his head, your fingers tangling in his hair and tugging violently at the roots—just the way he loves it. He savours the shivers running down his spine, the tightening in his gut, the aching weight in his trousers.

"Fuck, you’re driving me insane, doll," he moans into your pussy, his teeth grazing your clit until you jerk, too sensitive yet craving more. You could never get enough of him. Why did you even bother breaking up with him?

"‘M so close, can’t take more, Ya-Yamato~" You gasp, but he won’t let you falter now. You can take more—just a little more of his love. The pain you cause by pulling his hair only spurs him on, driving him further into his frenzy. Until you’re trembling against him, your legs shaking around his head under the relentless patterns of his tongue circling your clit. Your increased volume drives Endo to the brink of madness.

"God, bunny, you taste so fucking good," he mutters into your folds, the vibrations of his words adding to the overwhelming pleasure. Your moans are like music to him, a symphony he could listen to endlessly. His fingers slide back into you, curling to reach that perfect, gummy spot inside while he devours your slick like a man starved. He pushes you harder against the tree, his free hand roaming your thighs, tearing your bodysuit further apart for easy access to everything he craves.

This is his reward, his obsession—his twisted love made flesh. And you, trembling and whimpering under his touch, are exactly where you belong.

You’re rutting against his face, pulling him deeper into your pussy, thighs squeezing around him, muffling his groans as your moans echo through the dead forest. Just as the crest of your release approaches, he suddenly pulls away, and your feet land on the ground. His palm meets your puffy cunt with a sharp, stinging slap, pushing you over the edge with a burst of pain. You tumble into his strong chest, fully engulfed in Endo, surrounded and protected by him as you come undone in the palm of his hand.

"Good little thing, playing so well with me tonight," he murmurs, his voice a mix of praise and possessiveness. "You deserve to be fucked until your legs give out, leaving a trail for all the perverts to lick up on your way home." He inhales your scent deeply, arms holding you steady as you teeter on the edge of consciousness. You’re halfway gone, lost in the aftermath of your release, so it’s no surprise you don’t register the sound of his zip being undone.

Endo manoeuvres you like his personal plaything, turning you around with a practised ease. A flat hand between your shoulder blades pushes you forward, but he doesn’t let you fall. He’ll always hold his princess up. His biceps flex as he snakes an arm around your waist, positioning you perfectly to slide his needy cock inside you. He buries his face in the crook of your neck, drowning himself in your scent as he thrusts deeply, each push driving you forward in his embrace. Your body jerks with the impact, on the verge of giving out.

"You wanted this," he reminds you, his breath staggered, drawing out each word as he battles his own exhaustion. "You know I’ll make any of your wishes come true, no matter how fucked up." Another harsh thrust nearly drives you into the tree, but Endo pulls you back, refusing to let you drift too far from him. He will always hold you as close as possible. "I’d do anything for you," he rambles, his voice thick with devotion. His brows furrow in concentration as he leans back, his eyes raking over your subdued form.

His hands grip your upper arms, his thighs spreading you open as his hips bounce against the soft flesh of your arse. He’s so close—so fucking close. Mumbled adorations spill from his lips, "My perfect girl," and hushed "I love you"s pouring into your fucked-out mind. He doesn’t mind your muted responses; not when your walls clamp around his cock with every word of praise. His beloved is tired, after all. "Gonna cum inside ya, fuck, I’m so close," he groans, his breath ragged, moans raspy. The heat of his breath and the drops of sweat the only sensations grounding you while he fucks you with growing desperation.

Endo's movements slow down for him to only grind into you once his neediness makes a return. "Let me hear it again, pretty thing, tell me." His voice is a desperate pant, needing your words to anchor him. Perfectly conditioned, you remember what makes him fall apart in the palm of your hand. No matter the bile biting your throat upon the messy memories you hold for him, you give him what he needs. "I-I love you, Yamato, I love you, can you cum for me, please?" you pant, your voice trembling.

His eyes roll back, a near-maniacal grin spreading across his face as his head falls back to gaze at the bright moonlight above. "Don’t have to ask me twice, doll," he promises, and with a final thrust, he finally lets go, freeing himself from the pent-up need that consumed him.

dividers by @/cafekitsune

[yanderecrazysie]

ARACHNOPHOBIA (Yandere Gojo)

I'm literally so embarrassed, I posted this on the wrong account. I'm such an idiot lmao

As promised by the poll. Glossophobia coming eventually lol. All characters are adults.

Please don’t request any phobias. I just felt like making this for fun.

I’m not great at writing Gojo, so take this as is XD

Title: Arachnophobia

Pairings: Gojo Satoru x Reader

WARNINGS: Yandere themes, drider Gojo, NSFW, NON-CON, virgin reader

Phobia: The fear of spiders

“I’ll be right back, Papa.”

Your elderly father sat up in his bed, staring at your retreating figure, “You’re getting your herbs from the village, right?”

“Of course, Papa,” you replied. 

A lie - there were no herbs that would heal him in the village.

The old man laid back down, weakly waving goodbye to you. You felt badly about lying to him, but there was no way you could tell him the truth.

The forest had a reputation for being dangerous, especially as twilight settled in. The tall, ancient trees caused long, crooked shadows across the overgrown paths. Mysterious disappearances and reports of strange creatures made these woods well-known, and not in a good way.

You had always been one for adventure, but even you felt apprehensive about entering. It wasn’t like you really had a choice. If you wanted to heal your father- the only family member you had left… Well, you could only find those herbs within the infamous forest.

As you walked along the burr-covered path, the dirt barely able to be seen under the waist-high grass, you found yourself tripping over vines and wincing as thorns caused stripes of blood to cover your legs. The trees grew thicker as you traversed deeper into the forest and the leaves above you began to obscure the already-fading light.

There were no sounds other than the occasional snap of twigs underfoot. No owls, no bats, no signs of life whatsoever. You took a deep breath and steadied your nerves. 

You felt like you were being watched.

Eventually, you came across a clearing, bathed in the soft glow of the full moon. You dropped to your knees and sifted through the underbrush, finding the herbs you had told about immediately. Three dark, sharp-edged leaves and red berries, only made difficult to get by the thick cobwebs that stuck to the branches.

A soft rustling sound behind you caught your attention. You paused, hands full of leaves and berries, and you held your breath, ears straining. There it was again… closer this time.

You stood up slowly, scanning the treeline for movement. It was strange- you hadn’t noticed the copious amounts of spiderwebs in the trees before. Giant silvery strings that stretched from tree trunks to sagging branches.

“Lost in the woods, are we, butterfly?”

The voice was smooth and playful. It sent a chill down your spine- a voice like that didn’t belong here. You turned towards the source and backed into the bush as a figure emerged from the shadows. At first glance, he was a tall, handsome man with striking blue eyes, pure white hair, and a charming smile. 

The moment he stepped into the moonlight, that illusion was shattered.

His lower half was the body of a giant spider- long, segmented legs covered in white hair and a sleek, white abdomen. The contrast between the handsome human and creepy spider was jarring, making him some mix between beautiful and terrifying.

“Wh-what the fuck are you?” you stammered, tripping backwards over the bush and landing on something soft.

He chuckled, “My name is Gojo Satoru. And you, little butterfly, have ventured quite far from safety.”

Your heart was pounding so hard you thought it would beat out of your chest, “I’m just here for herbs. I’ll leave right away.” 

You tried to stand up, only to realize the soft thing you’d landed on was an intricate spiderweb. Panic set in as you struggled against the sticky webs.

“Oh dear, is the little butterfly stuck?” Gojo asked with a mocking laugh. You glared at him, fighting back the tears that threatened to fall. “Ahh… so cute… to think I finally get to see you up close.”

It took you several seconds to process what he had said, “You know who I am?”

Gojo’s grin widened, “Let’s just say I’ve been wanting a moment like this for a while. Any other human that wandered into my territory, I’d eat. But not you, little butterfly.”

“So what are you planning to do to me?” you demanded.

If it was possible, his grin widened even more so that you could see two long fangs among his human teeth, “Guess.”

Your gaze traveled over his body before catching sight of something throbbing under the spider’s body. Suddenly, something slid out of the white- something long and thick and flesh-colored…

“Oh no- no no no no NO!” you screeched, fighting against the stubborn strands that entrapped you.

Gojo let out a loud laugh and carelessly took ahold of your shirt with two spider legs and lifted it over your head. You tried desperately to escape the web, but it was useless. The back of the shirt and the sleeves remained stuck to you, but the front was ripped off with the force of Gojo’s strength.

“No bra?” Gojo laughed, “It’s like you wanted this to happen.”

Tears sprang to your eyes as his human hands groped both breasts, his bright blue eyes glued to the way they moved under his hands. Spindly spider legs tore your jeans off, breaking the web off your legs in the process.

Unfortunately, you were still stuck from the waist up, the sleeves trapping your shoulders in place and your arms splayed like angel’s wings. Gojo leered at your underwear, snickering at the pure white color and the little pink bow on the front. 

“It’s like you knew this was going to happen,” he said before tearing that off of you too.

Your naked body trembled in fear and cold as your nipples pebbled in response to the chilly air. You tried to look away from the half-spider creature, but you felt something slimy and hard begin to grind against your thigh.

Slimy? You risked a glance and immediately wished you didn’t. Attached to the pure white belly of the spider was a mostly-human-looking cock. It had a strange texture and it was covered in a weird wetness, but otherwise it was pretty normal. Except that it was absolutely massive.

You began to shake your head frantically. There was no way you could take that thing in you. You’d never even been with a human guy before, much less this giant spider creature!

Gojo’s laugh echoed through the forest as he took in your terrified expression. “Don’t worry, little butterfly, I’ll be gentle.”

Gojo’s spindly spider legs held you firmly in place as he mounted you and positioned his monstrous cock at your unprepared entrance. His human hands reached up to cup your breasts, teasing your nipples into harder peaks as he slowly pushed inside of you.

You let out a gasp as the head popped inside and let out a cry of pain. The slimy texture allowed him to push inside farther, despite your lack of arousal, but it was still agonizing.

Gojo let out a satisfied groan as he gave a rough shove of the hips and bottomed out inside you. You let out a scream as his massive cock filled you completely, stretching your cunt to its limits.

It was painful and uncomfortable, but Gojo didn’t seem to care, nor did he honor his promise of “being gentle”. He began to thrust in and out of you with abandon, his legs pinning you down as he took what he wanted from your body.

Your body shook with each powerful thrust but, slowly, the pain began to fade, replaced by an unfamiliar sensation. 

Gojo’s human hands continued to tease your breasts, sending waves of pleasure through your body. Despite your initial fear and disgust, you began to respond to his touch.

Your hips began to roll in time with his, your body seeking more of the strange pleasure he offered you. Gojo let out a low growl as he felt your body respond to him and increased his pace, driving into you harder and faster. Wetness spread between your legs, your mind betrayed as your body gave into the pleasure.

With one final thrust, Gojo let out a triumphant roar as he came deep inside you. Your body shook with the force of his release, your own orgasm following closely behind.

You lay against the web, panting and spent, as Gojo slowly pulled out of you, sliding a hand gently against your cheek and smiling. “You did a great job, little butterfly.”

Shame immediately flooded you and tears leapt to your eyes. How could you enjoy being fucked by a spider? Gojo pouted at the sight and pulled you from the web.

“You’ve had your fun,” you spat, trying to ignore the cum starting to drip out of you, “Now let me go home.”

“Oh little butterfly,” Gojo laughed, “The fun’s only just started.”

[cloudedcurses]

Never To Forget

⥽ an: Surely, I wouldn't cause such pain and misery for a second time now, would I? I absolutely would. Feel the pain. Hope you like it ᡣ𐭩

⥽ incls: S.GojoXfem!reader ᡣ𐭩.

⥽ Word Count: 1.1k

ᝰ incls: death, angst w/happy ending. SPOILERS WARNING too!

─── ᯓᡣ𐭩 ───

“What are you doing? Why do you have that camera?” you asked, squinting with confusion at the figure who seemed to levitate in front of you, Megumi, Yuji, and Nobara. A soft chuckle came from the now-clear camera, revealing Satoru Gojo.

“What’s with the recording?” you questioned again as Nobara began adjusting her hair. “Are you getting me ready for a modeling gig, sensei? You should’ve told me!” She grinned, and Megumi scoffed quietly.

“No reason, really. I just wanted to capture these moments…it’s good to have memories for the future,” Satoru explained, easing down from midair and turning the camera on himself beside you. The height difference was stark, his towering frame shadowing yours.

“For the future? Why now?” you asked, raising an eyebrow. He shrugged, nonchalant as always. It was typical of Satoru—spontaneous, unpredictable. Even when you’d been friends, he’d show up at your place unannounced, claiming he was too tired to make it back to his apartment…though it was hardly far.

Satoru handed the camera off to Yuji, the vessel of Sukuna, who clumsily lifted it, barely managing to frame the group. Nobara flipped him off, while Megumi looked like he’d rather be anywhere else.

“Hi, future me! Don’t eat Sukuna’s finger, okay?” Yuji called out, to which Megumi deadpanned, “That’s in the past, you idiot.”

───

“I’ve always admired the way you use your powers, your curse technique…with such caution and control,” Satoru’s voice drifted through the recording. You were training Megumi and Yuji to handle a dragon curse that fed on anxious energy, the creature coiling and spinning within the gym as you repeated the rules. It wasn’t the hardest curse, especially for Megumi.

“Oh? The camera again? Wonder why?” you questioned, moving to sit beside Satoru on the bench.

“Well, it is our five-month anniversary. How does it feel to be with the strongest?” he teased, his smirk making you sigh and smile. 

“Pretty damn great…I love you,” you murmured softly, catching his playful grin. “What was that?” he taunted, leaning in.

“Nothing! Megumi, need help?” you stammered, springing up to cover your flustered retreat, Gojo right behind you.

“Huh?! What was that?! Say it again! C’mon, baby, let me hear it!” he called, his long strides closing in on you as you ran, laughter echoing through the gym.

───

“Happy one-year anniversary,” Satoru’s voice came through a grainy video, revealing him holding the camera with a beaming smile. “I’m not sure if you’ll see this, but you’re getting all dolled up now. I picked out five dresses from your Pinterest, booked a glam squad, and hoped you got your nails done…” He grinned, revealing a brilliant diamond ring. “It’s got three stones, one blue like my eyes, one matching yours, and the one in the middle represents how clear you make my days. Around you, I don’t have to be Gojo Satoru, wielder of the Six Eyes…I can be Satoru, your husband, if you say yes.” Hearing footsteps, he quickly slipped the ring into his pocket.

“You saved me! I was stuck in the closet!” he lied, his face a picture of mock distress when you opened the door. Then, he caught sight of you, dressed beautifully. “You amaze me every day,” he whispered, his voice full of affection, before the video cut.

“SHE SAID YES! WE’RE GETTING MARRIED!” Gojo’s excited shout filled the screen, the camera trembling as he shook it in excitement. One hand held the camera, while his other arm wrapped around you, showering kisses across your face. 

Yuji jumped up and down, cheering alongside his sensei, until Megumi grabbed the camera, allowing Gojo to lift and spin you like a Disney princess.

“Congratulations…you two,” Megumi’s deep voice murmured before stopping the recording, just as Yuji popped a confetti cannon in the background.

“Why am I doing this?” Nanami’s deadpan voice came through, the video revealing a stunning wedding setup. With mild annoyance but perfect framing, Nanami filmed as Gojo flashed a thumbs-up. 

The setup had transformed the gym into an elaborate venue, despite the rush due to Gojo’s impatience—he “didn’t want to wait another day.”

You walked down the aisle, locking eyes with Satoru, all the love between you evident. Your hastily chosen dress fit perfectly, a testament to Gojo’s black card and your determination. You exchanged vows and rings, finally becoming Mrs. Y/N Gojo.

The camera shifted to Yuji’s excited face. “Hi, Momma and Papa Gojo! Thanks for adopting me,” he began, his tone earnest. “My gramps always said, ‘Love is strange and fascinating.’ Maybe one day, I’ll feel that too.” He turned the camera to you and Satoru, dancing mid-air above the guests.

───

The video paused, and you sighed softly.

“Well…did he?” a soft voice asked. Your daughter, Sora, peered at the laptop, her bright blue eyes sparkling. 

“Did Uncle Yuji find happiness?” she asked, her innocent curiosity illuminating her young face, though you sensed Satoru’s curse technique within her.

Sora, the name you and Satoru had chosen together before he was sealed. You both sat beneath a cherry blossom tree on a picnic blanket, watching the memories Satoru had insisted on creating for you.

The memory of that fateful night felt fresh—the devastation Sukuna left in his wake, without the chance for an evacuation or rescue efforts. Nanami, fallen. Nobara, injured. Yuji, refusing to return home. Thousands dead, and Gojo sealed.

After nineteen agonizing days, he returned but was gone again far too soon, his drive for revenge consuming him. Watching Yuta wield Satoru’s body as a weapon was excruciating.

Your pregnancy had been difficult, yet Sora became the blessing that kept you going. She was born the day Gojo died, and you liked to believe he was there, welcoming her into a world he’d fought so hard to protect.

“Mommy, look, there’s more…” Sora said, startling you. The video usually ended with Yuji, but now it continued. You pressed play, revealing Gojo, dressed for his final battle.

“Hey, baby…hey, Sora, my little buttercup. If you’re watching this, I’m probably dead—Sukuna must’ve got me,” he chuckled, eyes warm with his usual mischief. “Y/N, never doubt that I loved you. My life was better the moment you walked into it. And Sora, you’re strong because you’re ours. I may not be here physically, but I’ll always be with you both. Make sure Megumi gives you a lift to reach the stars, okay, Sora?” he added with a soft smile, the video ending.

You let out a breath, a tear slipping onto your lap, as a white butterfly landed on your nose. You gently lifted it onto your finger, then placed it on Sora’s head, watching it flutter towards Satoru’s grave, where it was soon joined by a yellow, purple, and black butterfly.

“Bye-bye, Papa! I love you!” Sora squealed happily, erupting into a happy giggle. Even Satoru’s ghostly figure could help but smile at the sight of her with Nanami and Geto standing beside him, watching you two enjoy sweets together. 

An image even the dead would carry forward forever. 

[theocddiaries]

[Rouge, Knuckles, and Omega are looking at the faucet]

Rouge: So?

Knuckles: Yep. It’s crystal clear.

Rouge: Really???

Knuckles: Yep, it’s crystal clear I don’t know the first thing about plumbing.

Omega: I TOLD YOU TO CALL A PLUMBER.

Rouge: No. They charge you a fortune for something you could figure out yourself if you just paid attention. Let me see… [approaches the faucet]: I think we might need to replace the siphon.

Knuckles: Siphon? You don't need to make up words to look smarter, this is serious. If you don’t know, step aside before you make things worse. [picks up a hammer]: Let me try something I saw on TV. [hits the wall with the hammer, and the sound of running water starts]: Ha! And people say The Flintstones are outdated.

Rouge: You're following guidelines from a cartoon, you idiot!?

[The noise stops]

Knuckles [smirking smugly]: So now what, bat? Huh? There you have it! Fixed!

[The pipe bursts, spraying water everywhere]

Rouge: Aah! Omega, move back before you get hurt!

Knuckles [covers Omega as best as he can and then bolts out of the kitchen, running out of the house]: I’m going to get help! Maybe I’ll come back!

Rouge: KNUCKLES! GET BACK HERE, YOU COWARD!

[Sonic and Shadow step aside as Knuckles stumbles out of the house. They walk in and see the chaos.]

Shadow: Rouge, what have you done?!

Rouge: Me? Well, I got up, had avocado toast for breakfast, then stopped by the café... But what does it matter what I've done today? Help me with the pipe!

Sonic [dashes over and shuts off the water main]

Shadow [comes back from the bathroom with a towel, handing it to Rouge]: This is why I told you not to mess with it and to call a plumber. But no, you always have to be stubborn.

Omega: AND YOU CALLED THE ECHIDNA TO MAKE THINGS WORSE.

Rouge: Omega, whose side are you on?!

Omega: I’M ON THE SIDE OF NOT GETTING ELECTROCUTED BY YOU FLOODING THE HOUSE.

Sonic: Why don’t you just tell Abraham? He’s the landlord, let him deal with it!

Shadow [scoffs]: Yes. Abraham. The guy I’ve only seen approach homeless people to check if they’ve got change. [his phone rings, and he goes to his room to answer.]

Sonic: It’s the law! [to Rouge and Omega]: He loves rules when it suits him, so this is a two-way street. Time to remind him of that.

Rouge: You’re absolutely right, Blue. So go remind him yourself and then come back to tell me what he's told you.

Sonic: No. It has to be you two.

Omega: ARE YOU SAYING WE’LL NEVER FIX THE PIPE?

Rouge: Yes, but nicely.

Sonic: No, I’m saying you’ve got to be persistent. It shouldn’t be hard for you. If Abraham acts dumb, you only need to say one thing: “Don’t mess around and fix the pipe.” On repeat.

Rouge: I’ve gotten out of plenty of reports by being that persistent, you know.

Omega: AND REPETITION HAS A CERTAIN COMFORTING QUALITY.

Rouge: You’re right, Sonic. We’re going to repeat ourselves so much, he’ll think he’s living Groundhog Day! [grabs Omega by the arm and storms out of the house with him.]

[Sonic looks at the soaked floor and decides to fetch a mop to clean up. As he wrings it out, Shadow walks out of his room looking shaken. Sonic notices him when he turns around.]

Sonic: Whoa, what’s with that face… [half-joking]: Who died?

Shadow [stares at him]

Sonic: Oh, crap… Sorry, it's just an idiom. A bad taste one. What happened?

Shadow: No, no, it's nothing like that. It was Abraham.

Sonic: Oh, he called to tell you he won't fix the pipe? I feel no guilt about sending your siblings after him--

Shadow: No, he doesn’t know about that yet. It’s just... remember when I told you Maria had a younger sister?

Sonic: Yeah?

Shadow: Well, she reached out to Towers and said she’d like to see me.

Sonic: …The woman who spat at you and then told you she wished you'd have been on the other side of the pod when she ran into you at GUN?

Shadow: That woman, yes. What could she want?

Sonic: Okay, calm down. Overthinking it’s the worst thing you can do, okay? [approaches and rubs his crossed arms to comfort him]: Especially you. You overthink and it's easy to go from 'talking' to insults, to physical violence and then you think... “anyone can get a knife these days” and-- geez, we need to get you off this planet right now.

[Sonic turns to run off with him, holding his hand, but trips over the mop bucket and almost faceplants, only for Shadow to catch him. He gives Sonic a look.]

Sonic: …See what happens when you overthink things?

Shadow [rolls his eyes]: Yes, that’s why I usually leave it to you.

[astrowarr]

“We should get out of here,” Grian whispers, but he is unmoving as his gaze stays pinned to Scar. Something about Scar’s eyes, so impossibly green, keeps him rooted in the crannies of the cobbled concrete under his feet. The glow of the street light over their heads paints a sharp, clear image of Scar and the toothy grin he flashes. The bustle of the city center ever permeates the air; a loud, boisterous laugh here, an angry, affronted shout there. 

But when Scar smiles at him like that, the noise cottons into nothing but a dull thrum in the back of his skull. Scar is smiling. Despite the fact that every bone in Grian’s body should be screaming in alarm, they do not. Instead, they pulse with something warm, something content. Grian is surrounded by enemies the way he always is, but Scar is four art-adorned walls and a worn shingled roof to match. Nothing can reach Grian here, in the safety of Scar's gaze.

There's little to no space between them, and Grian does nothing to change that. Out of the corner of his eye, he tracks the gentle, methodical movement of Scar's curled hand, so slow as he reaches up. The backs of those crooked fingers brush against his face, so light Grian nearly loses it to the night's warmth.

And then, like a moonflower, his hand unfurls; he doesn't quite cradle Grian's face in it, wracked with some sudden hesitance. Scar's palm stays just a hair's breadth away: the ghost of a touch. It drives Grian crazy, how the two of them keep pushing and pulling at all the wrong moments. 

Still, Scar doesn't stop looking at him, drinking in the sight of him like he's some sort of mirage. Like the night will sweep him away if Scar dares to even blink. Grian doesn't complain— thinks, actually, that maybe the comparison is more apt than he wants it to be. Instead, he loses himself in the miles of blue skies and flower beds that explode to color in the home of their prolonged eye contact. Truthfully, he's scared to look away too.

This is it, Grian knows as his heart roars in his chest. This is it.

“Say what you mean,” Scar breathes. 

They stand in the middle of the busiest section of the city but Scar's smile is private. It is Grian's, and Grian's alone. Say what he means? What is there to say? It’s written in the brief, rare silence of Grian’s mind; the swath of stars swirling overhead, infinite in their post apocalyptic glow; the solar-powered streetlight casting its fiery light over Scar, morphing him into something divine and untouchable. There is no word in his lexicon that truly encapsulates the feeling pressing against his ribs now. It isn't safety, or contentment, or peace. It isn't even love. 

He's sick of words. They don't mean anything. They aren't enough. He locks eyes with Scar and leans in, because if Scar isn't going to touch him, he'll just have to take matters into his own hands. Grian buries his fingers in Scar's button up shirt and shuffles him backward, until his back collides with the solid metal of the lamppost. If it hurts, Scar doesn't notice; he's looking at Grian with wide eyes, dumbstruck, lips parted in wonder and maybe something else. He's never been very good at taking what he dishes.

“What I mean is,” Grian murmurs against the buzz of the streetlight as his gaze flicks down to Scar's lips. His wings shift against his will, tucking around Scar, sheltering them from prying eyes. It’s only him and Scar. “You're an idiot if you don't kiss me in the next three seconds.”

For once, Scar’s tongue of gold is heavy and unmoving; he has no quick-witted words to throw in Grian's face. All he has is awe, and some self-imposed duty that has him deferring to Grian without question; he abandons his hesitance in the shadows of this too-public street. Finally, his clammy palm cradles Grian’s cheek, tattered and pitted like the worn leather of Grian's favorite jacket. 

The kiss, though, is soft and a little uncertain, at least until Grian yanks hard at the collar of Scar's shirt. When their noses clash under the urgent force of it, Scar chokes out a shocked laugh before he's responding in kind. And Grian thinks to himself that this is the first time the two of them have ever truly eclipsed, have ever found themselves in the lines of the same page, and he thinks he wants to live here. Forever, maybe, or for as long as the universe allows.

[gi4hao]

☆ (perfect bf!)joshua x gn!reader

☆ warnings: none i think! reader is wearing a dress?

it sounds so cliché you’re not even sure you could say it out loud, but you simply cannot take your eyes off of your boyfriend.

it’s not so much his impeccable outfit (which took him weeks to finally settle on), perfectly combed hair or flawless skin that particularly catch your attention. it’s the ease with which he’s been navigating the crowd, offering bright smiles to everyone, finding exactly the right words to say and to whom, shaking hands when expected, all like he had been part of your family for decades.

“you’re staring”, joshua whispers from a corner of his mouth, his hand still holding yours.

his words make you abruptly snap out of your daydreaming. visibly startled, your eyes widen as you focus back on the wedding toast unfolding in front of your eyes. joshua purses his lips together, cheeks slightly puffed as he stifles a laugh.

still silently as not to disrupt anything, you try to nudge him but his reflexes are too good, and he ends up smoothly grabbing your arm to link it with his. the shadow of amused smiles start to grow on your faces, just as the bride’s mother finishes her speech, setting off claps and cheers throughout the crowd of guests.

your arms still linked together, you decide to follow the few guests who are heading towards the bar, internally praying that no family members will try to start a conversation with either of you; although you’re certain joshua would handle it impeccably.

“that speech was beautiful“, you say, looking at the newlyweds’ table while joshua asks the barista for two refills. “i’m pretty sure i cried at some point.”

“i think we both did”, he admits, his fingers dancing around the strap of your dress, “hey, do you want to go outside? get some fresh air before dessert?”

you take your drink back with a polite smile before grabbing your boyfriend’s hand. “that’s a polite way of saying you need a break from my family”, you tease, leading him to the nearest exit, one that you know leads to a small balcony overlooking the building’s backyard.

the sun has set a couple of hours ago, only leaving the yellowish lights from inside light up joshua’s features. strands of hair delicately brush against his forehead, in a way that’s slightly more sophisticated than when it gets tousled overnight.

sipping his drink with a tipsy smile, he sighs contently, elbows resting on the railing.

“how crazy would it be if i proposed to you right now?”, he asks out of the blue.

you let out a chuckle, refusing to have any over-the-top reaction just like he probably expects you to.

“so crazy” you simply reply before taking another sip, still looking straight ahead.

but the sound of joshua clearing his throat has you suddenly looking to your left. or rather, down to your left where he’s getting down on one knee.

“…shua, what are you doing?” you ask, your voice slightly wavering with uncertainty.

his response is not immediate. instead, he keeps on looking at you, eyelashes fluttering as his smile grows fonder. your palms are getting clammy, suddenly your clothes start to feel a bit too hot, a bit too tight.

“tying my shoes”, he finally speaks up, handing you his glass: “do you mind holding that for me?”

“you’re such an idiot joshua hong”, you scoff, rolling your eyes before flicking his forehead with two fingers.

looking proud of his little prank, he stands back up on his feet to wrap an arm around your waist, pressing a loud kiss on your temple:

“i’ll do it for real one day, don’t worry”, he says without a hint of doubt, “but it’ll be our own day, i’m not stealing someone else’s. you’re too special for that.”

this time, you find yourself unable to suppress your genuine reaction, and a flustered giggle escapes you as he pulls you even closer to him.

you stay like that for a few minutes, sharing silent thoughts about this special day of yours, but also wondering how you’ll manage to actually take your eyes off of him when the time comes.

REQUESTS ARE OPEN!

[cressidagrey]

The Ties that Bind - Chapter 9

Summary: 

Shadowsingers were made, not born. Made out of trauma and loneliness and desperation.

So when Cilla and Azriel meet and their shadows entwine, they both meet the only other person that could understand these particular childhood scars.

The last thing Azriel had ever expected from his mate, however, was for her to have a surprising connection to his brother.

Warnings: 

I am retconning Merrill into not being a total bully...and Mor is kinda an idiot.

(super pretty dividers by @tsunami-of-tears)

Cilla couldn’t help but stare. Of course, she had seen the House of Wind before. It was difficult not to. But she had never thought that she would get to see the inside. 

Azriel carefully let her down at the top of the house…not wanting to strain her wings with the flight upwards. So instead, he had picked her up, like she weighed nothing, cradled her to his chest and flown her up to the House of Wind. 

Cilla gazed around in wonder, taking in the sight of the massive building rising before her.

“This is the training area,” he explained, following her gaze as she looked around what…she couldn’t even describe it. Chalk Circles were drawn on the floor and she stared at them for a moment longer. 

“Nesta resurrected the Valkyries…a group of female warriors. They train up here every morning. Some of the priestesses take part. Some others just do it for the self-defence but are not interested in becoming warriors,” Azriel explained as he led her into the house. 

Cilla's eyes widened further as Azriel led her into the house, marvelling at the opulence. High ceilings, large windows, and artwork galore. "Whoever built this place must have been really rich," she breathed out, awed by the sheer size and luxury.

Azriel barked out a laugh. "You are correct," he told her. “Rich, and very vain. It was built by a High Lord of The Night Court centuries ago."

Cilla blinked, "A High Lord?" she asked, trying to imagine the kind of person who would build such a lavish house for themselves. “Why would he build a house like this?”

"Why do any of them build anything the way they do?" Azriel replied dryly. “High Fae aren’t known for their humility, I’m afraid.”

Cilla shrugged. True.

Azriel chuckled at her noncommittal response. "Come, let me show you the library. I think you will like it."

They walked down lower, into the bowels of this massive house, carved out of red stone. She needed to tuck her wings tight against herself so that she didn’t knock them into anything. Cilla followed close at Azriel's heels, her wings brushing against the stone walls. Despite having to walk so close, she didn't feel nervous or constricted. 

They came to a stop at an archway, the space beyond too dark for her to see much. "After you," Azriel said, motioning to the library. "Clotho is waiting for us," he explained. "...All the priestesses that work here...they all have their own trauma," he told her softly.

She nodded. She could hear something in his voice…not quite a warning but something that told her to listen. 

She understood why moments later, when she met Clotho. 

A hooded and cloaked figure, the hood crowned with a blue stone…

“Clotho meet Cilla,” Azriel introduced her. “Clotho is the…the one in charge,” he explained to Cilla. 

Clotho said nothing but inclined her head. 

Could she speak? 

She writes, Azriel’s shadows answered quietly. She’s unable to speak. 

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Clotho," Cilla said quietly, keeping her voice soft and polite.

“Cilla loves books, so we thought that maybe work in the library would suit her,” Azriel said quietly. “You mentioned that you could always use more help.”

Clotho's cloaked head turned towards her for a moment, studying her. Cilla felt a shiver run down her spine, feeling as if the cloaked figure was somehow looking into her soul.

Clotho held her gaze for another moment before giving a small nod. It was an agreement.

"Clotho will show you around the library and show you how to sort the books. If you do a good job, she might even let you read some of them,” Azriel said, giving the priestess a knowing grin.

Cilla couldn't help but smile at his words, excitement swirling in her belly. The prospect of spending her days surrounded by stacks of books was like a dream come true for her.

Cilla's eyes flicked to the papers in front of her, and she realized that they were a list of instructions on how to sort the books into their respective sections.

She read the list carefully, sounding out the letters in her head, and absorbing the information. It all seemed fairly straightforward. She lifted her gaze back to Clotho, a smile on her face. "I think I can do that," she said quietly.

Clotho gave another slow nod.

"Excellent," Azriel said, a smile playing on his lips. "I'll leave you to it then..."

He reached out and squeezed Cilla’s hand gently, his touch warm and reassuring. "You'll do great," he said quietly, before quietly slipping out of the library.

Cilla watched him go, already missing his presence, before turning back to Clotho. The cloaked priestess was watching her intently, a silent guardian over the library.

Cilla sucked in a shaky breath and squared her shoulders. She could do this.

"Where do I start?" she asked, looking back at the mountain of books that seemed to fill every shelf in the library. Clotho, still silent, lifted her hand and pointed to the far wall.

Cilla looked where she was pointing, and saw a large stack of unorganized books. "Those?" she asked, not wanting to presume.

Clotho nodded, her hood bobbing slightly. Cilla nodded back, steeling herself. "Okay."

She moved forward, grabbing the topmost book from the pile, and began to sort through them, organizing them by author and subject, just like Clotho's instructions showed her how.

It was quiet in the library...peaceful.

Cilla found that she enjoyed the silence. It allowed her to focus on the task at hand, losing herself in the familiar comfort of the books.

She fell into a rhythm, sorting the books one by one, and finding a strange sense of contentment in it.

It was helped by the fact that her shadows got to help, handing her book after book from the neat stacks she made as she shelved them.

It was a dusty job...but it was...easy in a sense.

The monotony of the task only served to lull Cilla further into the peaceful rhythm of it all. Her shadows proved to be a helpful partner, bringing her the books she needed without even needing to ask. It was almost like they knew what she needed even before she did.

And it was a far cry from the backbreaking work in the tannery, she had carried out before

Cilla couldn't help but let out a soft sigh of relief. She had never realized just how much she dreaded the prospect of working in the hot, stinking tannery, surrounded by the fumes and blood and sinew. In comparison, the library was a heaven-sent gift.

And the books. Cilla's heart was in them. As she carefully slid each volume into its designated slot on the shelf, she couldn't help but skim the words and titles, feeling a small shiver of excitement run through her. She knew that it was only a matter of time before she would take them down from the shelf and devour them.

"Who are you?" came a demanding voice behind her.

Cilla jumped, startled by the unexpected voice. Her shadows swirled around her, alarmed. She whirled around, her heart racing, to find a young priestess standing there, arms crossed and staring at her almost suspiciously.

She was beautiful. There was no way around it. Nearly white hair, light brown skin...the bluest eyes Cilla had ever seen.

Cilla couldn't help but gawk for a moment, taken in by the priestess’ beauty. But the priestess’ expression was anything but open or friendly. She raised an eyebrow, clearly awaiting an answer.

Cilla cleared her throat, feeling small under her gaze. "I...I'm Cilla," she said quietly, trying to keep her voice steady. Cilla couldn't help but gawk for a moment, taken in by the priestess’ beauty. But the priestess’ expression was anything but open or friendly. She raised an eyebrow, clearly awaiting an answer.

The priestess looked her over with those too-blue eyes, like a predator sizing up potential prey. Cilla resisted the urge to shiver.

Finally, the priestess spoke. "And what are you doing in the library?" she asked, her voice as cool as her expression.

"Clotho hired me to help with the books," Cilla explained, trying not to shrink back from the intimidating woman. "Organizing them and whatnot."

The priestess's eyes flicked to the neat stacks of books that Cilla had been working on. For a moment, Cilla thought she saw a flicker of interest in her eyes, but it was quickly smothered by a cool aloofness again.

Her shadows twisted and swirled around her nervously, not liking the sudden scrutiny they were under.

Cilla lifted her chin, trying to match the Priestess's cool gaze with one of her own. "Yes," she said, trying to keep her voice steady. "I am."

The priestess nodded, but her eyes didn't leave Cilla's shadows, tracking them as they swirled about her wings.

Then, finally, her gaze slid back to Cilla's face. "Interesting," she said, something like interest in her voice.

Cilla tried to control her reaction. She wasn’t used to people taking any interest in her Shadowsinger abilities. Most of the time they just regarded her with suspicion or even fear. But this woman seemed...intrigued. Curious. It was a strange sensation.

The priestess took a step closer to her, her eyes still fixed on Cilla's shadows. She lifted a hand, as if to touch them, but pulled back at the last moment. Cilla suppressed a shiver, the intensity in those blue eyes almost unnerving."Did you ever wonder where they came from?"

The question took Cilla off guard. She looked at her shadows, fluttering around her, and frowned. She had never really thought about it. To her, they had always just...been there. A part of her.

She looked back at the priestess. "What do you mean?"

"They didn't always exist, you know," the priestess said matter-of-factly, her gaze still on the shadows. "It's said that they only came into being when the first Shadowsinger came into the world."

"How do you know that?" Cilla asked, intrigued.

The priestess turned her attention back to Cilla, a small smirk playing on her lips. "How do you think I know?" she shot back.

Cilla's shadows swirled anxiously around her, not liking the priestess's challenging tone.

"I read about it," she told Cilla.

Cilla felt a bit silly for not having guessed that herself. Of course, the priestess would know. This was a library, after all.

She gave herself a mental shake. "Right," she said, still feeling a bit off-kilter from the conversation. "So...you know a lot about Shadowsingers, then?"

"I am Merrill," she finally introduced herself.

Cilla nodded in acknowledgement. "Merrill," she repeated. "Nice to meet you."

Her shadows seemed to calm down somewhat upon hearing the priestess' name, but they still fluttered about her anxiously.

"And to answer your question," Merrill said. "There isn't much...because there aren't many shadowsingers."

Cilla's eyebrows rose up at that. "Not many?" she repeated. She hadn't really thought much about how common or rare Shadowsingers' abilities actually were. The realization that she was part of a very exclusive and rare group made her feel strangely exposed.

What about other...abilities?" Cilla asked, her head tilting to the side. "There are so many different types of powers among the fae…are some powers more common than others?"

"Ah, an interesting question," Merrill said, her lips curving into a slow smile. "You should come find me in my office sometimes... You may make a proper research assistant."

Cilla's heart skipped a beat at the words...then her wings shifted, as a flutter of excitement ran through her. "You...You mean that?" she asked, unable to keep the eagerness from her voice.

Merrill's eyes glittered, as if she was amused by her excitement. "I do," she said, her voice dry. "It's been a while since I had a decent research assistant. And with your little..." she lifted her hand to gesture at the shadows. "...abilities, you could be useful."

Cilla's heart picked up speed at the idea of being able to work with Merrill, of getting access to the library's knowledge...of being able to learn and understand her shadows and her powers more

"I'll keep that in mind," she said softly.

"See that you do," Merrill said, a hint of a command in her tone. "Now... I believe you have a job to do."

She gave her a brief nod, before turning on her heel and striding out of the library.

Cilla watched her go, still feeling a bit rattled by the exchange. She let out a soft sigh, her shadows swirling around her in agitation.

Interesting was one word for it, she thought.

"By the cauldron, you do look just like him," another female voice breathed and for one moment Cilla wondered how many other people were going to just drop by unannounced.

Blonde hair, brown eyes...a bright red dress. And somehow, she put her right on edge. Cilla wasn't sure what it was, but she reached out inside her for that golden thread that connected her to Azriel, and yanked.

"I am Mor!"

"H...hi," Cilla replied, trying to sound calm and nonchalant, despite the strange feeling in her gut. The shadows kept swirling around her anxiously.

She’s…a friend of Cassian, Azriel’s shadows told her, but something…something was off. 

Cilla could sense their warning, their caution. It made her own body feel uneasy. She'd always trusted her own shadows' instincts when it came to people.

Her own shadows were poised to act as a shield…hissing to her, words that were too quiet to make much sense.

Cilla felt her own instincts starting to kick in, a strange sense of danger raising the hairs on the back of her neck.

Mor took a step closer, her eyes roving over Cilla's form with a critical eye. The shadows around Cilla hissed, almost angrily, and she unconsciously took a cautious step back.

"You look...so much like him," Mor murmured, her voice a mixture of wonder and something like sorrow. She took another step closer, as if unable to help herself, her gaze roaming over Cilla's face.

Cilla's heart pounded in her chest at the intensity of Mor's gaze, feeling exposed and vulnerable under it. Her wings flattened against her back, and she could feel her shadows bristling with alarm.

"Morrigan," Azriel said sharply, suddenly appearing behind her.

Mor gasped, turning around quickly, her expression caught between embarrassment and surprise. She looked at Azriel like a child caught with their hand in the cookie jar.

Azriel's gaze flickered to Cilla, taking in her tense stance and the swirling shadows around her. His eyes narrowed as he looked back at Mor.

"I thought Cassian told you to wait," he said sharply.

Mor's eyes widened, guilt flashing across her face. "I know," she said softly, her voice almost sheepish. "But I couldn't help myself. I had to see..."

She trailed off, her eyes roaming back to Cilla again.

Cilla felt a mixture of relief and discomfort at Azriel's arrival, her shadows settling slightly at his presence. But she couldn't help the shiver that went down her spine as Mor's gaze came back to her, as if the faerie woman was trying to drink her in.

Azriel moved to place himself between Mor and Cilla, his stance protective and challenging. Mor's gaze flicked to him, and something like annoyance flared up in her eyes.

"You're spoiling my fun," she said, her voice laced with petulance.

"SHe's not some kind of pet for you to gawk at," Azriel cut her off sharply.

Mor let out an exasperated huff, crossing her arms over her chest. "I'm not 'gawking' at her," she retorted, her jaw clenching. "I'm just...observing."

"You're scaring her," Azriel said, his voice low. His eyes flicked back to Cilla, making sure she was alright. She gave him a small nod, feeling slightly reassured by his presence.

Mor's expression softened slightly at Azriel's words, but then her eyes flicked back to Cilla again. Cilla could practically feel her gaze tracing her features, like an artist trying to commit them to memory.

Azriel must have noticed it too, as he subtly stepped in front of Cilla again, blocking Mor's view.

"Enough, Mor," he said, his voice firm. "You've seen enough."

Mor let out an annoyed sigh, her eyes narrowing. "But I didn't get the chance to ask her questions," she protested.

"You won't be asking her any questions," Azriel said firmly. His stance was like a solid wall between Cilla and Mor, protective and unyielding. His shadows swirled around him, like sentinels standing guard.

"She's my niece," Mor gave back.

Cilla's heart skipped a beat. Niece...?

"You didn't mention me?!" Mor complained. "Az!"

"It...didn't seem necessary," Azriel said gruffly, his expression almost sheepish.

Cilla tried to process this newly revealed familial relationship. She had...an aunt? Her mind was spinning at this sudden revelation.

"Mor is Rhysand's cousin...and like a sister to Cassian," Azriel explained with a sigh.

Cilla felt her mind trying to comprehend the tangled web of family connections. So Mor was the High Lord's cousin and was close to her own mate?

The shadows around her were strangely silent, almost as if they too were trying to make sense of it all.

But Mor wasn't like a sister to Azriel?

Cilla could sense an undercurrent of complicated history there, as if there were things left unspoken.

The Morrigan…was…a long time ago, Master, harboured some…unreturned feelings for her? Azriel’s shadows answered, sounding nearly sheepish. Nothing ever happened! 

The admission from the shadows made something click in Cilla's mind. All the pieces were beginning to fall into place. Mor...and Azriel...

She glanced at her mate, taking in his uncomfortable expression. Something had definitely happened...or hadn't happened but perhaps should have...Between them.

"It's not what you think, I swear, Cilla," Azriel said quietly, grimacing.

Cilla felt a pang of sympathy for him. She could see the regret in his eyes, and the lingering discomfort he felt whenever Mor was around. But she also felt an unwanted surge of jealousy at the idea of past feelings between him and Mor.

"Oh. OH. No, you don't...You don't need to worry about that!" Mor hurried to add. "I...I always preferred females," she admitted.

Cilla blushed bright red at Mor's admission. She had assumed...well, assumed the obvious. But perhaps her assumption had been too hasty.

Azriel let out a quiet sigh of relief, his shoulders drooping slightly. Cilla glanced at him, feeling a pang of sympathy for her mate. It must still be...unpleasant...to be around the person who you'd had unrequited feelings for.

"Oh, you're adorable," Mor said, a genuine smile brightening her face as she looked at Cilla, taking in her blushing cheeks. Then her attention swiveled to Azriel. "You're a lucky male, Az. She’s very pretty, you know," she teased, a mischievous gleam in her eyes.

Azriel flushed at Mor's words, a rare show of colour on his usually cool features. He averted his gaze, looking both embarrassed and somewhat pleased. "Thank you," he mumbled, his hand moving to rub the back of his neck in a sheepish gesture.

Cilla couldn't help but be endeared by the sight of her mate blushing.

[jinxwuzhere]

random blurb I thought of for shadow that may be ooc but, I think it's cute :3

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ dancing with shadow

word count : 896

(f/d) - favorite design. like sequins or sparkles ✧

“come on, it wouldn’t hurt to ask!” sonic ushered you, pushing you to where shadow was sitting and whispering. he was right. kinda. “the worst he can say is no!” you turned to sonic with an unimpressed look as if to say, “really?”.

sonic pushed you a bit more and zoomed off, the sound alarming shadow to look up from the tv, him previously trying to ignore you since he was apparently so focused on Dexter. You shyly waved and plopped onto the couch, smiling like an idiot and playing with your fingers. “Hi..” You mumbled, he looked at you confused, but replied with a simple and stoic hey. “Would you possibly uh.. gotomyschooldancewithme?” You asked quickly, adverting his unwavering gaze. “dance?” “yeah!” “no.” your breath hitched, but you tried to not let him notice. you nodded and removed yourself from the living room immediately. you opened your room door to find sonic laying on your bed, feet propped up on the wall, reading your teen magazines. “sooo, how’d it go?” he asked curiously, looking up at you upside down.

you scratched the back of your neck, not wanting to remember or relive what just happened. “i’ll find another date..” “i could go!” sonic offered. “well you went with me last time..plus, i really like shadow, i want him to feel more like he’s one of us, you know? he never really wants to go anywhere with us, i thought it’d be nice.” “plus you like him.” the blue hedgehog cheekily smiled. “well, yeah, that too but, I just mainly wanted him to feel included.”

you huffed and hopped onto your bed next to sonic, choosing a dress you’d both pick up tomorrow. you chose a (f/c) dress with (f/d) and mostly everyone agreed that it would go well with you. well, except shadow of course. he was gone for most of the night. maddie and tom thought it’d be best to let him have some space, he probably felt suffocated she said.

maddie was excited to help you get ready for the dance again, she remembered what it was like and she wanted to recreate that feeling for her only daughter. you two laughed and joked while she helped you. once she finished your hair and makeup, you looked in the mirror. “wow..” you mumbled. “i just know you’ll be the life of the party. you always are,” she rubbed your back and kissed your head. “shadow is missing out bigtime.” “yeah..” i sighed. sonic, tails, and knuckles, met me at the front door. “uhm, hello?” “we just wanna ride with tom to take you there.” knuckles said, nudging and winking at sonic. you suspiciously nodded and smiled, “okay.” “I call shotgun!” sonic smirked and zoomed to the car, already making it in. you shrugged and made your way to the car, the cold breeze making you shiver, and as you stopped you looked at the moon for a second, really hoping that the black and red hedgehog would change his mind. tails gently grabbed your hand and led you to the car.

when it was time to leave, you hugged everyone, especially sonic since he helped choose the dress. “we should all watch a movie together after I come home, okay?” you smiled at your friends and tom. “i love you guys, i’ll be home before you know it.��� you waved as tom drove off, sonic yelling something incoherent and you laughed. your friends all ran up to you, gawking at your look. “you look amazing y/n/n!”

maddie and tom assisted shadow with the suit and the rose red boutonniere. “i’m so glad you changed your mind, y/n is gonna be so happy!” shadow softly smiled and mumbled, “i hope so.” she quickly handed him the red corsage in a cute little box. “this is for y/n, alright?” he nodded and said a quick thank you before tom lead him to the limo. tom paid the driver and off he went.

you were dancing and laughing with your friends when shadow found you. he usually hated being in overcrowded settings, but if it was for you, he’d tolerate it. when you sat back down he was in the seat beside you, looking at the decorations and care the staff put into the dance. “it’s really beautiful.” shadow said, looking at everything before turning his attention to you. “i’m sorry i turned you down before it’s just..” he trailed off, not wanting to say how he really felt because he didn’t want to ruin anything. “i feel weird when i’m around you and i don’t know if that’s good or bad. i can’t speak to sonic about it because he’ll tease me. really, anyone in that house would tease me.” he sighed. a slow song started to play as soon as his sentence ended.

you felt a bit bolder now that you know for sure he felt the same, you got up, holding out a hand. “dance with me..?” you asked, cheeks flushed and a smile that eggman himself couldn’t have wiped off your face. shadow remembered the corsage and carefully opened the box and carefully placed it onto your wrist. “this is how you do it right?” he questioned, not wanting to look stupid. “yes, it’s really beautiful shads, thank you.” he blushed at the nickname and took your hand, leading you to the dancefloor.

[fandoms-writings]

How about Vampire!Bucky with “Keep your pretty eyes on me.” and “You shouldn’t be out here by yourself.”?

But like, the classic vampires of Anne Rice, not the sparkly bastards from twilight? Perhaps soft!dark too?

Love Bites

Pairing: Dark!Vampire!Bucky x Human!Reader

Word Count: 3.4K (i just can't not write long fics)

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, HEAVY DUBCON , smut, p in v sex, oral (fem receiving), blood, vampire feeding, it's kinda dark tbh, use of mind control (if i miss any please let me know so i can add it <;3)

A/N: I hope you enjoy love! this was tons of fun to write <3 thank you big time to @aquariusbarnes for beta reading for me! all mistakes are my own though.

Masterpost || Bucky Masterlist

You sniffled as you walked, watching the stone of the old road pass under your feet. You wished you could appreciate the history of the place, really take it in like you wanted to. You wished you could enjoy this trip like you intended to. You worked so hard to get the time off, to pay for it. It was your anniversary trip, you were supposed to be having fun.

This was anything but. You'd gone to the bar with John, your piece of shit husband, and he'd excused himself to the bathroom, but when you noticed he'd been gone awhile, you went looking for him. Just to find the bathroom door locked, moans flowing out from the crack at the bottom. The bar had a strict 'no sex in the bathroom' rule, so the bouncer kicked in the door, and there was John, balls deep in a girl you recognized from the booth next to the one you'd been waiting at. 

You'd removed your ring, threw it on the ground, and stormed out, which was a shame. You loved that ring, the ruby was just gorgeous in it. But John hadn't even chased after you, it was like he was a different person. 

You thought about the way he looked at you when the bouncer kicked in the door. His pupils were blown wide and it was like he wasn't even there anymore. You did take notice of the white dust around the edge of his nose though, so maybe he wasn't there. But that's no excuse, especially because you'd never even seen him do drugs. 

"You shouldn't be out here by yourself," said a voice from behind you. It was low and soft, smooth like honey. You turned around, wiping the tears from your face before looking at your observer. "It's dangerous at night." 

You gave him a tight lipped smile, "Thanks for the warning." He stepped out from the shadow, and you couldn't help the nerves that lit on fire in your belly. He was tall, built but not too muscular, his hair was cropped short, almost like a military cut. His sharp jaw was clean shaven, and he had gentle blue eyes. 

"You alright?" He asked, gesturing to your disheveled state. You sighed, pursing your lips for a moment debating on if you should really tell a stranger your life, but you'd probably never see him again, so what's the harm? 

"I'm supposed to be here on my anniversary trip," You muttered, "but I found him cheating not even two days into our trip, so. . ." You crossed your arms, shrinking in on yourself as he approached you. 

"Well, he sounds like an idiot," He said, stopping in front of you, "He'd have to be a moron to be able to even take his eyes off of you." He held his hand out, "I'm Bucky." 

You introduced yourself, placing your hand in his and let out a small gasp when he raised your hand to his lips, placing a soft kiss to your knuckles. 

"It's a pleasure to meet you, even if it was something terrible that brought you out this way." He smiled, releasing your hand. "Can I walk with you? Just make sure you get to wherever you're going safely, if nothing else." 

You hesitated. This was a stranger, in an unfamiliar city, asking to walk with you to where you were staying. It sounded like a terrible disaster just waiting to happen. You shouldn't let him come with you to the hotel. 

Before you could process what was happening, you heard your voice agree, telling him he could join you, but you didn't remember giving your mouth permission to say those things. 

He fell into step beside you, keeping his hands shoved in his pockets, only bumping your elbow with his if he was trying to show you something. He told you about the city as you walked, distracting you from the events of earlier. He stopped at an old ice cream place, buying you a small cup of your favorite flavor, and taking you to a small park bench where he sat with you while you ate. 

"Thank you," You said when you finished your cup. He took it and threw it away before coming back and sitting next to you. "You really don't have to stick with me all night. I'm sure you have places to be." 

"This is the only place I want to be right now," He looked over at you with a small smile. 

"With a stranger?" You ask, wrapping your arms around yourself. The ice cream was good, but that mixed with the small night breeze, you can't stop the chills running up your spine. Bucky took notice and stood, pulling his sweater off and offering it to you as he sat back down. 

"I'd say you're just a little more than a stranger now," He chuckled. 

"I guess you're right," You smiled. 

"Are you planning on going back to your hotel?" He asked, "Would your husband be there?" 

Fuck, he's right. Your smile falls as you think about it. Where else would John go except back to the hotel? You didn't want to stay there if he was going to be there. He had a key so he could be there already, and you weren't ready for that. You didn't want to face him right now. 

You hang your head with a sigh, the tears beginning to well in your eyes again. "I don't know. I don't want to see him, but I have nowhere else to go. And neither does he, so he would definitely be there." You wiped at your face with your hands and let out a groan. 

Bucky didn't respond immediately, but when you looked over at him to apologize for all the drama going on in your life, he looked like he was debating on telling you something. 

"What is it?" You prompted, watching as he sighed. 

"I know you just met me," he started, "and by no means do you have to accept, but I have a spare room that you are more than welcome to stay in. At least for the night, and then in the morning you can sort your hotel stuff out and go stay wherever you want." 

You went to decline, this wasn't something you would accept from a stranger for multiple reasons. You didn't know him that well, you didn't want to impose, and he could be dangerous. But it was like when he asked to walk with you earlier - it felt like your body had a mind of its own as you heard yourself agreeing to stay with him, and before you knew it, you were following him to a lavish apartment building in the middle of the city. 

"You live here?" You asked as you eyed the building in wonder, the towering skyrise seemingly reaching into the heavens. 

"I do," He smirked down at you as he held the door open for you, leading the way to the elevator. You watched as he pressed the very top floor button.

"Top floor, huh?" 

"Best view of the city, you'll see," He smiled down at you before looking forward again. You eyed him a bit - you could've swore you saw a hint of a different color in his eyes, but you couldn't get another good look to confirm. 

The elevator stopped and you pulled the sweater tighter around you, nerves beginning to set you more on edge then before as you waited for the doors to open. 

The doors opened, and he was right, the view was spectacular. 

The place was lined with floor to ceiling windows where you could see the expanse of almost the entire city below you. There were only a few lights on here and there, the place mostly lit up by the moon right out the windows. 

His decor screamed money in a dark modern luxury type of way. The furniture was all dark wood with even darker cushions. You kept him in your peripheral as you walked around the room. If you had to guess, he was probably working for the mafia, or he was a CEO of some huge company you'd never heard of. No one his age could afford this place without being famous for something. 

"You want anything to drink? Or eat?" He asked as he led the way to the kitchen, turning on lights as he went.

"Just some water would be lovely," You said, following a bit behind him. Something about this place made you uneasy, you weren't sure what it was - if it was him, or how high up you were, or the fact that for some reason you had agreed to this - but you were attempting to keep your distance just in case. 

You watched as he filled your glass and slid it across the counter in front of you, adding nothing strange to your drink in the process. 

That's good at least, you thought. He started talking about where the shower was, where you could find towels, and that he'd get you a spare change of clothes so you didn't have to smell like the bar anymore. You took him up on the offer, grabbing everything you needed before locking yourself in the grand guest bathroom. 

~~~

"This is the guest room, and I'm down the hall," Bucky stated as you followed him through the hall. You noticed none of the bedrooms had windows and you thought it was odd, but at least the sun wouldn't wake you the second it rose. 

"Thank you, for letting me stay," You said, fiddling with the edge of the shirt he gave you, your legs warmed by the fleece pants. "I really appreciate it. I owe you." 

"Of course," He smiled down at you. "You don't owe me anything," he reached forward, picking a piece of lint from your shoulder, "all I want to do is help you forget about your husband." 

Your brows scrunched together, "What?" 

"After the night you've had, don't you think you deserve to have some fun?" He suggested, reaching to cup your cheek. His hand was oddly cold, but you did just take a hot shower so you didn't think too much about it. "Say the word, and I'll make you forget about your moron of a husband. Or I'll leave you to your room." 

It was like all the air was sucked out of your lungs as you stared up at him. He wore this look of sincerity and. . . hunger? How long had it been since you'd been on the receiving end of that stare? John hadn't really cared the past few months, you'd hoped this trip would spark something in him again. He'd run off with some woman from the bar, not even 50 feet from you, so what harm would sleeping with Bucky do? 

He'd been nothing but nice to you, catering really. He'd taken care of you, though you did have those two moments where your body betrayed you in favor of his wishes. But, maybe that was your body telling you something. If anything, you'd just slip out in the morning the second the sun came up. 

Reaching up to grab his hand, you nodded, "Make me forget about him." You whispered it, but the second it left your lips, his eyes darkened, darker than you've ever seen anyone's eyes go. 

He nodded, moving to lace your fingers with his as he led you down the hall to the master bedroom. It was just as lavish as the rest of the apartment, maybe even more so. The bed was massive, lined with a deep rich red comforter and sheets that looked as soft as clouds. He pulled you to the edge of it before cupping your cheeks, pulling you in till you were just a breath away. 

"Are you sure?" He asked, looking to you for confirmation before he moved. 

"Yes," You muttered, gasping when his lips met yours. It was slow at first, the way his lips moved with yours, like he was learning how you kissed, how you liked to be kissed, before he deepened it. His tongue slipped past your lips, taking a quick taste at your mouth before retreating, like he was asking for permission - permission which you granted. 

He tasted the entirety of your mouth as he hands moved under the shirt to paw at your skin, gripping and pulling you flush against him as he groaned into your mouth. He guided you towards the bed, pulling away to let you lay across the comforter, which was as soft as you imagined. 

Laying himself above you, he slotted his knee between your legs, pushing his thigh into your warm core, smirking at the small whine you let out as your hips grinded down on his thigh. "Eager are you?" He mumbled against your lips, "Did your lousy husband never satisfy you?" 

"He used to, but not lately," it ignited a bit of shame, admitting how unfulfilled you were in your marriage, but all Bucky did was smile as his hands moved to the waistband of your pants. 

"I'll fix that," he pulled your pants gently down your legs, admiring your skin as he went. "Don't you worry." He winked at you before grabbing one of your legs and starting a trail of wet kisses up from your ankle. Suddenly, it was like all of your nerves fizzled out. You were almost completely comfortable laying there, like you belonged. 

He ran his nose up your calf and your thigh, stopping at your hip to place another wet kiss, sucking a bit on your skin and sending shivers of excitement up your spine. Pushing the shirt up over your chest, he followed it with his lips and his tongue, inhaling your skin, savoring it as long as he could. You'd never had someone be so attentive, so infatuated with you that they took their time like this. He helped you out of the shirt before settling between your thighs.

"I've barely even started and you're already dripping," He slowly said, his voice starting the butterflies in your stomach. He leaned down, placing a gentle peck to your clit, smirking when your hips jolted, trying to get more pressure. "You are eager." 

"Please," You whispered, watching with half lidded eyes, "please, Bucky." 

"Mm," he hummed, reaching up to grab your breast, gently tugging on your hardened nipple, "only because you asked so sweetly." 

He flattened his tongue along your folds before dragging it up and circling his lips around your clit, groaning into you when you let out a wanton moan. Your hands dove down, trying to grip his short cropped hair, tugging him closer with what you could grab, settling for just gripping his head. 

He ate you like he'd done this a thousand times before. He knew exactly when to speed up, and when to slow to keep you teetering on the edge, the band that quickly grew in your stomach just ready to snap. 

He pulled his tongue off of you, cooing at you when you whined at the loss, trying to pull him back. He pulled his hand from your breast, using his thumb to circle your clit, pushing on it every so slightly. 

"Now," He started, his voice raspy as he sunk a finger into your cunt, "I need just one thing from you, before I give you what you want - what you need." 

You looked down at him, swallowing the sudden nerves in your throat as you nodded. 

He smirked, his eyes going red, "I need you to stay still, and keep your pretty eyes on me." 

Your body froze and your eyes went wide. His suddenly red eyes sent a spark of fear through you, but your body wouldn't move out from under him, no matter how much you tried.  It was just like before, where your body followed his exact commands.

"Good girl," He growled as he curled his finger, brushing at that spongy spot, "I'll only take a little, I promise." His mouth opened in a hungry pant and you watched as his canines lengthened themselves into points. 

You wanted to run, to put as much distance between you and him as possible, but your body wouldn't move. He pulled at the skin of your thigh before gently sinking his fangs into you, the sharp pain only lasting a second before it went numb. You could feel him lapping at your skin, the blood flowing into his mouth.

He looked up at you for a split second before his eyes rolled into the back of his head as he moaned, the vibration running through your muscles. You shouldn't be turned on by this, you know you shouldn't, but the way he looked at you after, like you hung the sky itself, it was intoxicating. 

He pulled away gently, licking up the bit that escaped his lips before turning his attention back to you. "You taste even better than you smell." He wiped at the corner of his mouth with his free hand, licking the blood off of it before climbing up your body, curling his fingers again. 

"Now," He said, pulling his finger free from your pussy's grip on it, and pulling his cock free from his trousers, "Your turn." 

He lined himself up with your entrance after coating himself in your slick, and pushed in slowly to the hilt, filling you in a way you never knew before. He groaned once he was seated all the way in and he reached to grab your legs, holding them as he slowly started to rock into you. 

"I've been watching you since you got here," He stated, relishing in the tears that were starting in your eyes, "Your dumbass of a husband following you like a bored teenage boy. You deserve better. Then," He slammed his hips into yours, closing his eyes at the feeling of being so deep in you, "then I got a whiff of you, of your blood when you got that paper cut opening the welcoming card from your hotel. I knew I had to have you." 

He dropped one of your legs, placing his hand over your stomach, pushing down on the bulge he was creating with every thrust, the band in your stomach starting to grow tight again. "It was easy, getting him to listen to me. I found him in the bathroom, told him to fuck the girl who was gonna join him, and sent her in there." He smiled deviously down at you, an eerie hint of obsession tinting his eyes.  

"Then it was just a matter of waiting till you were far enough away from him that I could approach you," He leaned down till his nose was brushing against yours, "And fuck you're perfect. Make some noise for me, will you baby?" 

A loud moan tore itself from your throat and you couldn't stop the series of curses that left your lips as he sped up his hips, slamming into you, hitting that spongy spot over and over and over, quickly bringing you over the edge. But he stopped before you could topple over, and he gripped your cheeks, making you look at him again. 

"You'll forget about him," he ordered, "you belong to me, now." 

You couldn't remember who he was talking about, or what had happened. All you knew was that you were his, and he was yours. And he was fucking you so good. 

"That's it," He smiled when he noticed that familiar look in your eyes. His hand left your face, and his thumb circled your clit as he pounded into you again, tossing you quickly over the edge. Your orgasm washed over you in waves, your walls gripping him as he kept pumping in and out of you, quickly pushing you towards another one. 

The second one took you just a fast, your blood roaring in your ears. The smell of your blood rushing through your veins pushed him to his climax and you watched his hips stutter before painting your walls with his spend. 

"That's my girl," He panted. Once you caught your breath, he smiled down at you, "I have something for you." 

You smiled, "For me?" 

He reached for his pants without pulling out of you, and his hand dove into the pocket, pulling out a gorgeous ring. It had a silver band, with a ruby surrounded by small square cut diamonds. 

"Bucky," You gasped, "That's gorgeous, but why?" 

"My girl deserves pretty things, don't you think?" He slid it over your finger, smirking as it fit perfectly. "Look, it's like it was made for you." 

You smiled bright up at him with a laugh. "It's perfect," you muttered before reaching up to pull him down to you, slotting your lips over his, "Thank you." 

"Anything for my girl." 

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