#and I would have checked on him sooner BUT

[freezerbrldes]

no nut november - s.r.

PAIRING. Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

SUMMARY. Spencer is confident he can win a bet against Morgan… what he didn’t account for was having to share a room with you…

WARNINGS. smut, brief mention of male masturbation, unprotected sex, breeding kink if you squint

AUTHOR’S NOTE. It’s been awhile since I’ve actually written something and it’s also the first time I’ve ever written smut so hopefully this turned out okay. This is based on one of the bots I’ve made on character.ai/spicychat. I know it’s January but let’s pretend I posted this in November.

wc: 2.1k

credit to @cafekitsune for dividers

also on ao3

Spencer was beginning to regret agreeing to this bet. He thought it’d be easy, but after 3 and a half weeks, he felt so frustrated he could passed out from just the slightest touch.

Him and Morgan made a bet. Morgan was positive that Spencer wouldn’t be able to survive No Nut November. Spencer was not the competitive type, but he definitely wouldn’t pass up an opportunity to prove Morgan wrong.

Spencer is no stranger to getting himself off every so often. While he may be a genius with a high IQ, he is still a man with needs. He isn’t into hook up culture— he’s too much of a germaphobe for that. His right hand became his closest companion when alone after a stressful case.

The first week wasn’t bad at all. He began to think he might actually make it, but once the second and third week hit, that’s when thoughts about you were constantly on his mind…

Spencer has always found you attractive— like really attractive. So attractive that he often finds himself thinking about you while he pleasures himself late at night. He doesn’t want to think about you this way, but his mind always wanders to thoughts of you underneath him.

As if things couldn’t get any worse, you were sharing a hotel room with Spencer during the new case. He tries to distract himself with a book as you lay on your bed in an oversized tshirt and very short shorts.

You are reading over some case files, looking for any connections between the last two victims. Spencer could feel his pants get tighter at the mere thought of you just a few feet away from him.

You must’ve notice he has been particularly quiet today, because the sound of shuffling paper pulls his attention away from his book.

“Are you okay? you’ve been acting weird for the last week,” You ask, rolling over onto your side to look at him on the other bed.

“I-I’m fine, the cases have just been very, uh— draining — recently,” Spencer lies, shifting awkwardly on the bed to hide the evidence of his arousal.

“Right,” you chuckle, not buying his excuse. You walk over to his bed and sit across from him, the mattress dipping slightly under your weight. “C’mon Spence, what’s really bothering you?”

Spencer feels his heart rate increase. He fidgets with the hem of his sweater vest, avoiding direct eye contact.

"I...I'm just tired, okay? These cases take a toll on me," he says, trying to maintain a calm tone despite the growing tension between you.

His gaze drifts to your legs, which were crossed and showcased more of that smooth skin he'd been fantasizing about. He quickly looks away, focusing on the stack of psychology journals on his nightstand instead.

"Look,” Spencer sighs, “I appreciate you checking in, but I promise I’m fine. The sooner we crack this case, the sooner we can head back to Quantico."

Despite his words, Spencer found himself leaning slightly towards you, drawn in by your presence.

He feels his resolve weakening as your warm presence drew closer. Your scent fills his nostrils— a tantalizing mix of vanilla and something uniquely you. It stirs feelings within him he hadn't acknowledged before.

"I know you're just trying to help, but please, let me handle this," he pleads, his voice barely above a whisper. He couldn't meet your eyes, fearing the intensity he knew would be there.

A bead of sweat trickles down the side of his face as he recalls the countless nights spent pleasuring himself, always picturing your body in his mind, but now you’re inches away from him.

“Spencer,” you say, pulling his attention away from his wandering mind. “You’re one of my best friends, I can tell there is something else bothering you other than this case. Please— let me help you.”

Spencer's chest tightens at the word "friend". Despite the strong attraction he harbors for you, he had never allowed himself to hope for anything more. You deserve someone better, someone who could give you the love and affection you craved.

Spencer brain scrambles to come up with another excuse, as he gazes into your empathetic eyes, he finally caved.

"Okay, fine, There is something I've been struggling with," he admits, his voice barely audible. He takes a deep breath before speaking again.

"I made this stupid bet with Morgan, I’m supposed to go the entire month of November without having sex or masturbating. At first, it was easy but now, being in the same room as you, I’m having a hard time controlling my thoughts.”

Spencer closes his eyes, bracing himself for your reaction. He opens them again when he didn’t hear you laughing and making fun of him.

Relief washes over him as he saw an understanding expression rather than disgust. He swallows hard, his mouth suddenly dry.

"You're not mad?" he ask, his voice laced with vulnerability. In that moment, Spencer felt like he could finally exhale, like a heavy burden had been lifted from his shoulders.

“Of course not,” you reply, “why would I be mad?”

"Well, because even if I wasn't doing this bet, I still...I still think about you," he confesses, his cheeks flushing a deep shade of red.

"I know it's wrong, but I can't help how I feel. You're amazing. You’re smart, funny, beautiful..." Spencer’s words trailed off as he realizes where they were headed.

"I shouldn't say these things, but I can't keep pretending anymore." Spencer closes the space in between the two of you, his heart pounding in his chest.

After what felt like an eternity, His lips finally met yours in a passionate kiss.

Spencer felt a rush of emotions overwhelm him— excitement, nervousness, joy, and most of all, relief. This was what he had secretly longed for— dreamed about in the dark of night, and now it was finally happening.

His arms wrap around yours instinctively, pulling you closer as he deepens the kiss. His tongue dances with yours, exploring every inch of your mouth with a hunger he hadn't known he possessed.

When you finally broke apart for air, Spencer's breathing was ragged. He gazes into your eyes, seeing the same desire reflected back at him.

"You know, um, we should probably talk about this— about us," he adds, his voice barely above a whisper.

“How about we talk about it after?” you chuckle, your lips meeting his in another steamy kiss.

Spencer melts into the kiss, his body responding eagerly to your touch. He knew they needed to discuss the their growing feelings, but right now all he wanted was to lose himself in your touch.

Spencer's hands roams over your curves, mapping your body through your clothes. Breaking the kiss again, Spencer looked at you with a mix of adoration and longing.

"I want you,” he whispers, his voice husky with desire. "More than I've ever wanted anyone."

His lips trail from yours down your neck before reaching the hem of your tshirt, pulling it out of the way to plant kisses onto your collar bone. Spencer sucks on the sensitive skin before pulling the shirt over your head, carelessly tossing it onto the motel floor.

He kisses a path up your throat, pausing to nibble on your earlobe before pulling away just enough to admire the view. His gaze drank in the sight, the air thick with tension.

"You're stunning," he breathes, reaching out to trace the curve of your bare breast.

You moan softly as he gently caresses your body. Spencer dips his head to capture a nipple between his lips, sucking gently as his hand cups and kneads the other.

Spencer groans into your breast, the sound muffled by your soft flesh. He suckled harder, his thumb pinching and teasing the neglected nipple.

His other hand slides down your side before dipping lower to brush against the waistband of your shorts. He could feel heat emanating from your core, fueling his growing arousal.

He pushed the fabric of your panties aside to slip a finger along your slick folds as his mouth returned to your neck.

“You’re so wet already, is this all for me?” Spencer sighed, nibbling at your earlobe.

Before you could even respond, you moan loudly as he pushes a digit inside you, groaning at the tight clench of your walls.

"Fuck, you feel incredible," Spencer gasped, pumping his finger slowly in and out of you.

He adds a second finger, scissoring them gently to stretch you open, leaning back slightly to watch your face contort in pleasure.

Spencer watched intently as your body arches off the bed to meet his thrusting fingers. He curls them inside you, rubbing against that sweet spot that made your legs quiver.

He captures your mouth in a searing kiss, swallowing your moans as he picked up the pace, driving his fingers deeper.

His own arousal grew unbearable, it demands attention. With a growl, Spencer broke the kiss and hastily removed his clothes, throwing them in a pile with your discarded tshirt as you whimper at the loss of contact.

“I need to be inside you,” He pants as the last of his clothing is removed. He makes quick work of pulling your shorts and panties down your legs.

Spencer's hazel eyes are dark with lust as he positions himself between your thighs, the tip of his cock nudges against your entrance.

With a deep breath, he pushes forward, sinking inch by inch into your welcoming heat. A low groan rumbles in his chest at the feeling of your tight walls hugging his length.

Once fully sheathed, Spencer pauses, his forehead resting against yours as he savors the moment.

“God, you're perfect," he whispers, then begins to move, setting a slow, deliberate rhythm.

You moan loudly as he begins to pick up the pace, your nails leaving crescent moons on his shoulders.

“Please don’t stop, you feel so good inside me,” you beg.

Spencer's grip on your hips tightens as he pounds into you. He buries his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent as he loses himself in the feeling of you wrapped around him.

His fingers tug your hair lightly as he angles his thrusts to hit that spongy spot deep inside you over and over again.

"Shit, you feel so fucking amazing, so wet and tight," he pants, his voice strained with pleasure. “I'm going to cum so hard inside you."

One of your hands move from his shoulder down to where your bodies connect, rubbing hard circles over your throbbing clit.

Spencer's thrusts falter as he feels your fingers working on your sensitive nub. The sight pushes him even closer to the edge.

"Oh god, yes! You’re so fucking hot!" he cries out, his hips snapping against yours with renewed vigor.

He reaches down and replaces your hand with his own, rubbing harsh circles as he chases his high.

“Fuck yes, I'm gonna..." Spencer's words trail off into a guttural moan as his orgasm crashes over him, his cock pulsing and twitching inside you as he fills you up. The feeling pushes you over the edge with him.

Spencer collapses onto you, his weight pressing you into the mattress as he tries to catch his breath. His heart pounds wildly in his chest, still racing from the intensity of his orgasm.

After a moment, he lifts his head to look at you, his usually bright hazel eyes now heavy-lidded.

“That was...incredible," he murmurs, a soft smile playing on his lips, he places a gentle kiss on the tip of your nose.

He slowly pulls out of you and rolls onto his side, he reaches out to brush a strand of dampened hair from your forehead. You both lay in silence as your breathing returned to normal.

“Well,” you break the silence with a smug grin, “it would appear you have failed No Nut November,”

“Yeah, but it was worth it,” Spencer chuckles, his thumb rubbing circles onto your flushed cheek. “I’m starting to think you and Morgan set me up.”

“You really think I seduced you to help Morgan win a bet?” You laugh in disbelief.

“I mean, that would be a very Morgan thing for him to do,” Spencer says, his hand now caressing your arm, “That man always plays dirty.”

“If it makes you feel any better, I saw Morgan flirting with one of the motel staff, she left his room about two hours ago, so I’m sure you probably did beat him.”

“Of course he did, Morgan can’t go 5 minutes without sleeping with someone,” Spencer laughs as he pulls you into his arms.

You lay like that for a while before both of you drift off into a deep sleep, excited to see what the future holds for you two.

[7seas-of-ryy]

Crestfallen - Part 2

Author’s Note: I hope everyone has a great New Years!!

Overall Summary: Although you were born in the Day Court, you've been living in the Night Court for a century. You're close with the inner circle but what will happen when a new healer is brought into the picture?

Part 2 Summary: Gaslighting and harming patients is not what a healer is supposed to do!

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Warnings: talks of injuries

Waking up, your entire body felt like it was on fire. You couldn't remember what happened so you did what Az and Cass had trained you to do. Taking a deep breath, you assessed your surroundings. You were laying in someone's room, Azriel's room. That's a relief. One other thing you notice was you were naked and wrapped in ice cold, wet rags.

Hearing footsteps approaching, you closed your eyes and pretended to be asleep still.

"Azzy, you don't have to have her sleep in your bed. I can keep her down in the recovery room of my shop." Clara's sickly sweet voice broke the silence.

Azzy?? She has a nickname for him? She's barely known him. All these thoughts kept running through your head while you waited for his response.

"No, she's staying here. It's the least I can do for her. I should've checked on her sooner, I was just so caught up in my work that I didn't realize no one had seen or heard from her for two days." Azriel responded.

"Stop beating yourself up. She's a big girl and can handle herself. Plus, you're such an important piece in the Night Court, you don't need to be worrying so much about her." She told him.

Before she could keep going, you made it known you were awake by softly clearing your throat.

Az ran to your side and kneeled down next to you, grabbing your hand.

"You're awake! I was so worried. You've had a terrible fever so Clara wrapped you in these rags to cool you down. That cut on your back looked really bad too, why didn't you let Clara help you the other night?" Azriel spoke softly to you, and by the looks of it he hadn't been sleeping much.

"What? Clara told me-" You choked out but your throat felt so dry it was hard to talk.

"Don't you remember? I offered you the salve and wrap for your cut, told you it looked infected? You told me you just wanted to sleep it off. I didn't think that would be good but I can't force anyone to get better especially if they don't want to." She talked down to you like you were a child.

You felt like you were going crazy. Maybe Clara was right, maybe in your exhaustion you refused help and ended up getting worse. But you could've sworn she told you everything was fine.

"Water." it was all you could choke out.

"I'll get it for you." Clara offered but you didn't trust her. Especially with your mind as foggy as it was right now.

"No!" You shouted, well tried to shout.

"Ok, ok, calm down. I can get it for you, would that be ok?" Azriel asked as he gently pushed the hair out of your face.

You nodded your head and he got up to get it for you. Once he was gone, Clara started fumbling around in her bag and pulled out a powder.

She walked over to you, opening the substance and put a little bit of it in the cap.

"Wha-?" You started to say as she blew the capful of powder straight into your face.

The most intense pain took over your body. It was like your flesh was being torn from your bones. Your body writhed in agony and you were screaming out in pain. The shadowsinger came running in the room straight to you.

"What happened? Help her!" His voice was booming.

"I don't know, she was fine then all of the sudden this happened. I think I have something that can fix her!" She sounded panicked and worried for you.

Pulled a liquid out of her bag, she looked pained towards Az like she didn't want to give it to you.

"What're you doing? Hurry!!" He shouted.

"This is going to hurt her a lot, I need you to hold her down." Clara told Az.

He quickly grabbed his belt off and slipped it in your mouth so you could bite down on it and held your arms down.

"I'm so sorry," He whispered to you, "She's gonna help you, it'll be over soon."

Clara grabbed a dagger and cut down your side. She grabbed the liquid and dropped it into the cut. However bad you thought the pain was, was nothing compared to this. You thought you were going to die, the last thing you saw was Azriel' hazel eyes before passing out once again.

"She needs some time for that to kick in. Her cut must've been worse than I thought. I needed to treat the infection, the liquid I poured into the cut will do that and it will work faster the way I did it." Clara told the spymaster, walking over to him and rubbing his shoulders.

----

The next time you woke up, Az was sitting on the ground with his back against the bed. You didn't see Clara anywhere so relief instantly flooded your mind.

Sensing the change in your breathing, Azriel's head shot up and he stood up to see you.

"Hey, how are you doing?" He whispered.

"Where's Clara?" You asked, partly out of fear.

"Why? Do you need her? I can call for her-" He started

"NO" You immediately shut him down, "Please keep her away from me. I'm sick because of her!"

Azriel looked at you as if you grew a second head.

"You have to listen to me. She has been horrible to me since the second she met me..." You were pleading with him.

"Stop." He whispered but you kept going, speaking over him.

"She didn't even assess me the other night, which is why my cut is infected and then she blew some powder in my face which caused everything earlier. She is purposefully making me sick." You were rambling, trying to get him to understand.

"Enough." Azriel spoke in a stern voice, "Listen, I don't know if it's because of everything you're going through but Clara is the only reason you aren't in agony right now. You cannot pin something like this on her. She has been very essential these past 2 weeks and she is extremely kind. There is no way she could possibly do something like that."

Those words were like a punch to your gut. How could he not believe you? You've been best friends for over 75 years, known each other for a century. This is the male that you were in love with, siding with Clara.

"You don't believe me." You whispered, feeling a tear slide down your cheek.

"I'm not saying that. I'm saying you had a long, tough first solo mission and I think it's taking it's toll on you. Your mind might be playing tricks." He tried to make it better but the look he gave you was full of pity.

"Please leave now." You mumbled and turned your head away from him.

Without saying another word, you felt his shadows settle over you and as quick as they were there, they left along with their master.

------

A few days have past now with you showing no signs of improvement. You haven't gotten worse but you definitely haven't gotten better.

Mor and Nesta visited you quite a bit, Nesta even read to you every night. You asked Rhys to have Azriel stay away and even though he thought that would be counterproductive, he respected your wishes.

For 75 years, you have been in love with the Spymaster. Of course, you never told him out of fear of rejection but also because you knew he would never feel the same and it would ruin your friendship. You knew the feelings were unrequited when he didn't believe you about Clara.

It felt deeper than him not believing you, in a way it felt as if he chose her over you and that hurt far worse than any of the physical pain you went through.

As you were deep in thought, Nesta and Mor both came into your room. Well, Azriel's room. You were still too weak to move anywhere else.

"Hey, you're awake!" Mor greeted you with a smile.

"I brought a new book for us to start, if you are up for it." Nesta added.

She was always kind to you because you were there for her with everything she went through. Nesta was grateful for your unrelenting friendship and you were happy to have her as a friend.

Right as you were about to respond to Nesta, you felt the cut on your back heating up. Searing pain started shooting through your body and you thought you saw tendrils of light swirling around you. Confused and in agony, you threw your head back.

"Get Clara." Mor told Nesta as she tried to help you.

You were too weak to tell her no, the light seemed to be getting brighter. A high pitched squeal was getting louder. Suddenly, your body was being lifted in the air by the beams of light but it was as if you were paralyzed.

Clara winnowed into the room, her eyes going wide as she witnessed what was happening to you.

The noise was so loud that Nesta, Mor, and Clara were all covering their ears. Your body was convulsing, the light becoming so bright you thought you were going to explode.

"DO SOMETHING!" Mor screamed over all of the noise.

The fear in Clara's eyes was evident and she stood there not moving.

"..uh...I...I didn't do this one! I don't know how to fix it! I'll see if Madja is close by." She stated and winnowed away.

Nesta's head snapped to Clara but she was already gone. Mor ran to you but there was nothing she could do. Rhys, Azriel, and Cassian all ran into the room to see what was happening but there was nothing they could do either.

"What happened?!" Az shouted but no one responded.

A few moments passed before Clara winnowed back into the room, this time with Madja, who calmly made her way to you and hovered her hands over your form. She started mumbling some words and your body slowly laid back down on the bed.

The beams of light slowly went away and you weren't screaming in pain anymore.

"All of you. Out now. I need space to work. You need to go too, Clara." Madja spoke without looking up, "Except you, High Lord, I might need you."

Cassian, Mor, Clara, and Nesta started to get out and Azriel stayed, he couldn't leave you. Cassian grabbed him and forced him out as they all made their way down to the living area.

They all stood worrying about you, the Spymaster's shadows swirling like mad when Nesta broke the silence.

"Hey Clara...what did you mean when you said "You didn't do this one" earlier?" She spoke, her eyes narrowing on the female.

Taglist

@rcarbo1 @acourtofbatboydreams @bravo-delta-eccho

[sissylittlefeather]

A House That Has Everything: Chapter 3

A/N: I'M BACK AND I'M BRINGING THIS ONE BACK WITH ME. I'm sorry it's been so long since I posted one of these, but here is chapter 3! This one came to me when I saw these amazing AI photos on Instagram made by @blackvelvetep and @_chiara975ep. (Be sure to check out their pages on Instagram!) My fic brain went crazy and this storyline was born.

Summary: Set in Regency England, Mr. Presley is the gentleman who owns and resides in Graceland Manor. Annabelle Martin is his newest maid after her parents have died and left her an orphan. Can he resist his affection for her, despite the difference in their social class?

Need to catch up? Masterlist HERE.

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI, masturbation (female & male), and some very sexy thoughts

Word count: ~2.5k

He doesn't even know her name.

******

It's still dark when Mr. Presley wakes from a light and fitful sleep. His dreams were filled with images of the maid, but he could never see her face. No matter how many times he turned her around, her face never appeared to him. His nightshirt is soaked in sweat and his hair is stuck to his forehead. He tries to go back to sleep, but is haunted by the same image again, so he decides to get out of bed. It's too early to wake his valet to dress him, so he pulls on some trousers and an unbuttoned shirt with a jacket. Running his fingers through his hair, he checks his reflection in the small glass. Inappropriate for a gentleman, but he doesn't have plans to see anyone.

He heads for the stables. Time spent with the horses usually relaxes him, but on his way he passes the library. Suddenly, he has an overwhelming need to go in and wait for the maid. She should be coming around to make the fire soon. Maybe he could apologize for his behavior yesterday. He wants to apologize for last night, too, but he would sooner die than admit to what he did. Completely forgetting how disheveled he is, he walks into the library to settle in one of the chairs with a book.

*****

Annabelle wakes at her normal time and dresses sleepily. Yawning, she collects the things she needs to tend the fires and starts on her daily routine. She thinks nothing of going into the library and does so without caution, like she's done every day since she's been there. Again, she's met with a surprise.

Mr. Presley sits in one of the large armchairs with his chin on his hand and a book in his lap. When she sees him, she gasps quietly and tries to turn and walk from the room.

“Wait, please, miss.” His voice is soft and kind, a startling contrast to yesterday morning when he yelled at her.

“Mr. Presley?” She cautiously walks towards him a little. He's an absolute vision sitting there in his unbuttoned shirt, his chest hair visible in the opening. For a second, she gets lost in thinking about touching him, but she quickly corrects herself.

“Come here.” He gestures for her to walk closer to him. She sets down her fire-tending supplies and walks over to him in the chair. In the time it takes her to get there, he stands up, his 6 foot frame towering over her 5 foot one. “What's your name?”

Her mouth drops open a little, both with the nature of his question and his tone of voice when he asks. He's gentle and sincere and it catches her off guard.

“Annabelle. Annabelle Martin, sir.” Before he can stop it, a small smile spreads across his face and he whispers.

“Annabelle.” She nods a little and he clears his throat, trying to regain his composure.

“I need to tend the fire, sir.”

“Oh, of course.” He gestures to the fireplace and she walks over to settle herself in front of it. She's keenly aware of his eyes on her as she works, but she can't figure out why he would want to watch her. It's quite distracting, him just standing there, and she slips and drops a piece of wood. She catches it, but she also feels a splinter dig into her finger and gives a small yelp. He drops to his knee beside her quickly.

“Are you alright?” She nods and looks up into his face. His eyebrows are pulled together in concern and he's so close that she can see his individual eyelashes. He really is beautiful and it kind of takes her breath away.

“It's just a splinter.” She holds her hand out and without thinking, he takes it in his softly. Her heart jumps with the subtle contact, but he seems to be focused on her injury. He leans down to look at the splinter.

“I think I can get it. May I try?” Their eyes meet again and this time it's his heart that skips.

“Yes, sir.” She whispers and they stare at each other for a beat before he looks back down at her pretty little hand and carefully extracts the small piece of wood. It takes him a couple of tries to get it fully, but eventually he does. He has an overwhelming desire to press his lips against her skin, but he holds back.

“There. Is that better?”

“Much. Thank you, sir.” He notices that her eyes are dark blue like the sky just before the sun disappears entirely.

“You can call me Elvis.” His voice is soft and kind and she feels like someone has poured warm honey inside her. But she shakes her head vehemently.

“Oh no, sir, I could never.” His heart sinks a little and he nods. She's right to refuse that lack of decorum between them. Still, he's overcome with a deep bitterness about the position he was born with. The money and status have their advantages, but he'd trade it all for the freedom to engage with people differently, especially now that he's met her. What would he give to be a simple farm boy right now?

“Right.” He stands up, turning away, and she finishes with the fire and then stands as well. His mood has darkened and she hopes it's not something she's done. She stands for a bit to see if he'll say anything, but he doesn't, so she turns to leave. Before she gets to the door she stops and looks back at him.

“I'm sorry if I offended you, sir.” He hangs his head and then turns to her.

“No. Sometimes I just wish… it's just…” He's not sure whether he should tell her the truth, but looking into her eyes makes it impossible to lie. “I'm quite lonely. And I forget that I'm not a person to you.”

Her heart breaks for him, all alone in this big house. There are people everywhere, but no one he can truly connect with. In this way, they have much in common.

“You are a person to me…” She pauses and then whispers. “...Elvis.”

He's shocked for a moment and then his face breaks into a smile that lights up her whole universe.

“Thank you, Annabelle.” She nods and then walks from the room. As soon as she's safely on the other side of the door, she leans back against the wall and closes her eyes, sighing deeply. Her heart is pounding and her hands are shaking. This cannot happen.

******

Annabelle goes about her daily business trying desperately to avoid running into Mr. Presley. She can't stop thinking about him, though. His soft eyes and smooth voice are constantly in her mind and she's started having dreams about him pulling her into his arms, propriety be damned. Several times she's woken up with such an aching between her thighs that she feels like she might explode. This is not how she needs to think about the man responsible for her livelihood.

Elvis spends his days doing his normal things, but he spends his nights whispering Annabelle's name into the darkness like a prayer. She consumes every open thought he has and he'd be lying if he said he wasn't trying to come up with another reason to talk to her.

One afternoon, he comes in from a meeting in town and is walking to his room to change when he hears something coming from one of the bedrooms. He quiets his steps and moves stealthily toward the door. Someone is singing a folk song in a beautiful soprano. The other maids don't sing while they work, so he knows it has to be Annabelle. He stands outside the door with his hand on his heart listening for a while. She sounds like a bird, hitting all the notes perfectly, her voice clear and strong. When she gets back to the chorus, he opens his mouth and adds the harmony.

Annabelle always sings while she works, so she doesn't think anything of it as she makes the bed. She barely even notices when another voice joins her song, but eventually she realizes it's a male voice, deep and smooth, and she freezes. When the sheet that she'd thrown out settles, she sees him standing in the doorway.

“You don't have to stop on my account.” He gives her a small and playful smile and there's a familiar heat between her legs. She swallows hard and tries to dispel the image of him throwing her on the half-made bed.

“I'm sorry to have disturbed you, sir.” She stands with her eyes wide like a bunny’s.

“You didn't. I was enjoying your song. This house needs some music.” He notices how nervous she seems and it crushes him a little. He'd been dreaming of the hint of familiarity she’d shown when he’d seen her last, hoping it might continue or even deepen. He walks a little further into the room and speaks softly. “Please don't call me ‘sir’.”

The quiet longing in his voice brings her out of her own head and back to a place of empathy. His wellbeing matters more to her than her own self-imposed discomfort. Still, she's not sure what to say next. What she really wants is to go to him and throw her arms around his shoulders, but that would be inappropriate on a level that even he would find shocking.

“Are you afraid of me?” He asks quietly, his voice edged with bitterness again.

“No, I'm not afraid of you, Elvis.” She whispers in return. And it's true. She's not afraid of him in the least. She's afraid of herself and her own desires.

“Good. I would like us to be…” He hesitates. Lovers? That's what he wants to be, but he could never say it. “...friends.”

She nods, not sure how she'll manage to control herself, but wanting to give him whatever he needs.

“We can be. I'd like that too.” He smiles again and she stifles a whimper. They stand there in silence for a few more seconds before he takes another step towards her and speaks.

“It is fitting that your name is what it is.” She looks at him curiously.

“Why is that?” He takes a deep breath and another step and continues.

“Bella means beautiful. And you are.” She tries to cover her sharp inhale by blinking, but he picks up on both and cocks his head to the side a little. Is he having the same effect on her that she has on him?

“Thank you… Elvis.” He decides to take a chance and walks directly to her, leaning inappropriately close to her ear.

“You're welcome, Bella.” As he pulls back to look her in the eye, the urge to kiss her is so overpowering that he has to turn away. He walks quickly to the door and disappears through it with such haste that she's left wondering if it actually happened. But the feeling in her stomach is undeniable.

He stops outside the door to steady himself, running his hand through his hair. Another second and he would've given in and had her right there on the freshly changed sheets. His head and his heart are both reeling as he tries to gather his composure.

Annabelle sinks onto the bed, her knees shaky and weak.

******

The small clock in her room reads 2:26am when Annabelle wakes with a whimper. Every time she closes her eyes, she's flooded with images of Elvis: his hands, his mouth, him ripping open her corset and pressing those perfect lips to places on her body that have never been seen by men. This time when she opens her eyes, her chest is heaving and the aching feeling between her legs is so strong that it's almost painful. Without thinking, she puts her hand there, holding herself and whimpering.

She's never been with a man in any way, having only kissed a few boys in the village, so the ways of pleasure are completely unknown to her. Still, her body seems to know what to do on its own as her hips begin to rock against her hand. A soft moan escapes her lips, but she needs more, more pressure or something. She looks around the small room, but of course there's no one there to see her. Her hand trembles, but she slowly slides it up her inner thigh under her nightgown. She's heard of women who experienced the delights of sin, but she never imagined herself to be one of them. Still, the ache is so strong that she almost can't stop herself.

As her fingers reach her center, the thought that Elvis could touch her like this explodes in her brain and her hips begin to rock again, her fingers slipping easily through the wet folds of her sex. If only his big hand was where hers is now, touching and teasing. She doesn't even realize that she's slipped a finger inside herself until she moans and adds a second one.

“Elvis…” She whispers in the darkness, her other hand clutching her breast, pinching her hardened nipple lightly. The image of his mouth on her drives her to pinch a little harder, pretending that it's his lips and teeth. She keeps her fingers pumping in and out as she rocks her hips and the other hand slides down her belly towards her center. And then she imagines his lips, his tongue, making their way down her body to this place that burns with need for him. She fumbles a bit, but it doesn't take her long to find a spot that makes her moan out loud and rub her fingertips over it with fervor. If only it were his tongue on this intimate place. The thought makes her clench around her own fingers as she rubs harder and faster.

“Oh God, Elvis!” She whisper-screams as the pleasure builds deep in her belly. And then she sees him on top of her. She knows from the other girls in the village what it means to make love and until now she never thought it sounded very pleasant. But right now, in this moment, she needs his cock inside her with a fire she didn't know was possible. Her mind is all lips and tongues and him moving his body against her, sliding in so deep, and before she knows it there's an explosion in her center and she bites her lip to keep from making too much noise. But she arches her back and bucks her hips and writhes as the pleasure overwhelms her and she pulses on her fingers and slows her other hand as the hardened bud softens.

“Elvis… yes…” She whimpers as she starts to come down from her high, sweating and panting. When she finally finishes, she lays in bed staring at the ceiling. Whatever that was, she needs to feel it with him.

Across the house, Elvis pumps his cock as the cum shoots out all over his hand and he moans.

“Bella…”

But it isn't enough.

******

Now what?

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

Taglist:

@ahundredlifetime @ccab @atleastpleasetelephone @aliypop @18lkpeters @dkayfixates @tacozebra051 @your-nanas-house @joshuntildawn13 @lookingforrainbows @60svintage @littlehoneyposts @epthedream69 @louisejoy86 @rjmartin11 @from-memphis-with-love @deltafalax @cinnamoroll-things @burnthheparaphilia @jhoneybees @cattcb @everythingelvispresley @returntopresley @searchingforgravity @msamarican @angschrof @lustnhim @polksaladava @librababe99 @hooked-on-elvis @theelvisprincess @makethemorning @peaceloveelvis @mrspresley69 @pxpresley @kxnnxy

[livefromthedas]

Surviving Purely Out Of Spite

By ClickClickBoom

(Also here on AAO3)

Chapter 3: Rule 1: Don’t Startle The Assassin

Summary:

Valuable Life Lessons with Rook Aldwir.

Rule 1: Don’t Startle The Assassin.

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Rook’s dreams were an entanglement of nerves again, frayed at the ends and vulnerable to the world like veins of raw lyrium.

Shadows swarmed as she stumbled through, the sound of her own footfalls detached. Distant. He was somewhere here. He had to be. But the labyrinth of paths before her seemed infinite, and her time running short, and there was something terribly dangerous nearby. It lurked in the shadows, hounding her by scent, biding its time as she only became more lost. More fatigued. More sluggish beneath the weight of her own fear.

The faintest shift of movement - the parsing of a breath and the rustle of fabric - made Rook freeze on the spot.

Close. Something was too close. Right behind her. A breath in her ear.

Hand at the hilt of her dragon bone blade, Rook spun to face it. Violet light seared her retinas - the snarl of a familiar voice ringing loudly—

“He keeps. Us. HERE!”

Rook snapped awake in panic to a very real danger.

Shit shit shit!

It happened remarkably fast. No sooner had she heard Spite sneering in the pits of her ears, the sudden sharp breath of the dozing body in her arms jerked to. With a lightning fast maneuver that sent Rook’s head spinning, she suddenly found their positions fully reversed.

Lucanis had her completely immobilized, back pinned to his front, legs trapped by his own, one arm pinning her to his chest, the other with a dagger she hadn’t even realized was in his boot with a razor’s edge to her throat.

Panic. Eyes wide. Couldn’t move. Didn’t dare breathe. The most Rook could manage in the split second that followed was pat desperately at the man’s side with the hand that wasn’t actively pinned behind her back. The blade at her neck teased a pinprick of blood.

“Rook?!”

The dagger clamored to the floor.

Rook scrambled to find purchase as she was suddenly shoved bodily to her feet, hunched over, coughing. Gasping for air.

“Mujer, ¿estás completamente loca?” The startled words bit angrily.

“I can… explain.” She wheezed.

“What are you thinking?” Lucanis spun her around, hand immediately coming to the knick in her neck. Rook caught sight of genuinely frightened brown eyes. It took all of a moment for him to assess the damage - certain that the wound on her neck was minimal and the dried blood on her shirt didn’t seem to be her own - before Rook was yanked back into sit with him, his arms wrapping around her tight. She could feel his heart pounding in his chest.

Rook grew pale as she realized how ridiculously close she’d just come to bleeding out on the floor.

“Rook helps. Us.”

The flash of violet in his eyes was so brief Rook barely caught it. Lucanis quickly harangued the demon back again, temples twitching against an angry scowl.

“It’s fine,” Rook said quietly, “Everything is fine.”

“This is not fine.”

Yup, still mad.

Lucanis grimaced against whatever was knocking around in his mind, and Rook took notice. He attempted to sit back from the woman’s sudden fussing, but she would have none of that, a hand carefully double-checking the hairline scar that Spite had sought help for.

“Your demon is more clever than you give him credit for,” she said, managing to maintain her poker face despite his furrowed brow, “Though we perhaps need to explain to him that bleeding on someone while they sleep might not be the best way to wake them.”

Lucanis growled, frustrated. He stood straight into pacing, needing to burn off that feeling - that deep seated resentment over his inability to control his own body and mind - somehow, less he say something stupid.

“You should have woke me,” he managed, “Why did you not��“

“You weren’t there to find. And it scared the hell out of us both!” The response came out a bit angrier than intended - enough so that Lucanis’s pacing stopped. Rook took a deep breath, and had nearly opened her mouth to speak again when—

“You’re telling me, that at no time in,” he checked the golden watch fob he kept in his trouser pocket, “Over six hours you were able to…” his eyes shot up to meet hers, suddenly looking so baffled that Rook had to stifle a smile, “Six hours?”

“Told you you needed to sleep. And it turns out, if we give Spite a nice boob for a pillow, he’s a bit more amenable to sitting still.”

Rook knew her tone was slappably smug. She also didn’t care. That had happened, handn’t it?

And in a rare moment, she swore she caught a blush in the assassin’s features as he groaned irritably, “Rook. Not the time. I nearly killed you.”

“You nearly killed yourself, Lucanis,” she stood, squaring up, “If Spite hadn’t come here - if he had gone for the Vi’Revas instead - If he hadn’t trusted me enough to heal him, you’d be—“

Words were quickly gearing towards a fight. The moment Lucanis seemed to realize as much, he breezed past Rook, headed for the door.

“I need coffee.”

“And you’re welcome!” Rook fired angrily at his back, just as her chamber doors closed behind him.

Notes:

I hope shorter chapters are ok 😅 This one was fun though. These two are a mess.

[salty-autistic-writer]

Buck meets Tommy by chance after four weeks of silence.

He should have known this would happen sooner or later. After all, they are two first responders working in the same city.

And yet, when Buck sees the 217 on the firetruck, he still hopes Tommy isn’t with them because he doesn’t know how to deal with the thought of seeing him again after waiting for a word, a call, a sign in vain.

Buck can already feel the others glancing at him. He tries to look as impassive as possible.

This is work. And he’s a professional. He’s just going to do his job, no matter what.

That’s what Buck keeps telling himself. And it’s working. He loses himself in Bobby’s orders and the routine of the job. It’s working. Until the complex structure fire dies down. Until all of the civilians that were trapped are safe and on their way to the hospital. Until he takes off his helmet, wipes at his sweaty face and sees Tommy walking to the trucks with his helmet under one arm and an oxygen mask in his free hand.

Their eyes meet over the wavering smoke and Buck can feel his heart hitch.

Tommy looks good like he always does, in his broad, sharp-edged, muscled, calm and confident way. He towers above everyone else, his presence so clear it cuts right into Buck’s painstakingly maintained indifference.

I’m just going to say hi to him, Buck decides. Just a normal greeting between co-workers. Because that’s what we are now. We are not lovers anymore. I can’t go to him, cup his face and ask him if he’s okay. I can’t check him for injuries or possible damage to his lungs from the smoke. I can’t tease him about the soot on his face that makes him look like a racoon. I can’t ask him if he’s free later and wants to watch a movie. I can’t make him dinner. I can’t watch him fall asleep on the couch. I can’t.

I’m just going to say hi. *

This is a little snippet of the fic I'm working on right now: "Buck meets Tommy by chance. They talk, and in the heat of the moment Buck says: "I wish I would have never met you". That's the last thing he says to Tommy. A few days later Tommy has an accident and Buck feels incredibly guilty.

[whatwooshkai]

number three :D

Blades is hiding.

Yeah, he's not afraid to admit it. He'll hide all he fucking wants.

The only summons he's been giving over the past vorn have been either for random medical check-ups or more interrogations by the enforcers. And they're still having him train on a strict schedule, even though his "team" has been reduced to a solo endeavor.

A voice crackles to life over the P.A. system. "Someone find Blades, please." The voice sounds resigned and more tired than anything, lacking the usual professionalism but keeping the conciseness.

Blades curls closer to the crates he's hunched behind, knees-to-chassis, doing his best to angle his rotors so they're not visible.

They stick out so far behind his back.

The scar between them aches when he twists. Stupid rotors, stupid alt mode. He misses his wings, even though he barely had them. Helicopter is a stupid alt mode anyways, with stupid fragile rotors that could break at a moment's notice.

An odd, aching part of Blades- the one that lives in the gaping hole in his spark- desperately wants to go home.

But he is home. Or at least, the only living quarters he's ever known.

Unless home is with his gestalt... in which, he doesn't need that many more reasons to be convinced to go join them.

"Found ya."

Blades looks up from his hiding spot to meet the tired optics of one of the security-for-hires, who's doing his best to offer an inviting smile. His field brushes Blades', so he snaps it close to his frame.

Blades can't remember his name, they cycle through guards too often. Or at least more often when they used to, after a top secret government project turned into a glorified sparkling-sitting job.

The guard taps a beat on the crate he's leaning on. "You comin'?"

Blades just glares at him.

The guard sighs heavily, before walking around and reaching out a hand. "I don't wanna fight you, kiddo. Let's make it easier on both of us, alright?"

Blades doesn't move, but he lets the guard grab his arm and haul him to his pedes, then lead him down the hallway towards the Supervisor's office.

The Supervisor is an intimidating mech- black and gray plating, purple optics, and a faceplate twisted in a perpetual scowl. He must be three time the size of Blades.

Streetwise used to guess that the reason he went by the Supervisor is because he had a really stupid or embarrassing name that wasn't intimidating at all, instead of just being "classified" like he claimed.

Doesn't matter what Streetwise thinks now, though.

Blades squares his shoulders and walks into the office with his helm held high, keeping his rotors tucked close to his frame to hide their minute shaking.

"Blades," the Supervisor greets in his dark, intimidating voice. Blades frowns at him. "You're hardly a sparkling anymore, I thought you would have outgrown being a nuisance by now."

Blades, wisely, does not say anything. The less of a fuss he makes, the sooner he gets out of here.

"As you know, the Defensor project has been discontinued," the Supervisor continues, shifting slightly in his seat. "And therefore our funding for it has stopped. More specifically, our funding for you has stopped. So you are no longer of use to us."

Blades' tanks drop to his pedes. He knew this would happen eventually, but he thought they'd at least wait until the enforcers found out who- who- who's responsible for Blades no longer having brothers.

He's not even that being that much of a nuisance! He's following directions, goes to the places they order him to, shows up to training, all the stuff they need him to. He doesn't even hide half the time!

"You have three options," the Supervisor says, pulling Blades from his thoughts. "You can attempt to fend for yourself on the streets of Protihex, but you will not receive any help from us, financial or otherwise. You may join the military, which we do encourage. Minimal paperwork and it keeps you in the system."

Blades is going for the streets. He is not joining the military, he is not-

"Or," the Supervisor adds, "you can attend the Rescue Bots Academy."

Oh. That actually... that actually might not be so bad. That's a few vorns of schooling, and by that point, he could get a job and fend for himself, right? He wouldn't even half to finish. Just live there long enough to get himself on his pedes and to make sure he can get as far away from this Primus-forsaken facility as possible.

"I'll go to the Rescue Bots," Blades says, the static in his audials drowning out everything besides the Supervisor's, "Are you sure?"

"I'm sure." Blades shutters his optics. "Send me to the Rescue Bots Academy."

[must-be-mythtaken]

hm. hate everything and everyone in the house but my partner hours. feels bad.

[dungeons-and-dragon-age]

OKAY. MAN.

[jrueships]

i genuinely cannot stand being around ppl who have to take their anger out on others . i'm so sick of always having to act like the bigger person to my Older brother while he can just tornado around my entire life & belongings & relationships without warrant all over smthing that had absolutely nothing to do with you or anyone, rlly.

[cirrus-silly]

I am SO close… SO CLOSE

[running-in-the-dark]

hm. am I downloading Night Court right now? possibly.

[crplpunkklavier]

i have pretty broad amnesia over most of my childhood, but here are two interactions that i, tumblr user crpl punk klavier, remember having with my older brother, of all people:

me being around 12, sometime in 2003 probably, revealing that one of my dearest hobbies when im done with homework is to simply sit on the floor in my room and listen to my heavy metal albums on my cd player and doing nothing else. and my brother responding with, "that is such a waste of time."

a few years later at the dinner table, my brother talking about some musician's live performance. i asked him, then, "but when you see and hear things like that, doesn't it make you want to do the same? don't you want to be on stage with them, write music with them?" "no," says my big brother, and we stare at each other with equal amounts of confusion.

no notes. send post

[7seas-of-ryy]

Crestfallen - Part 4

Author’s Note: I'm hoping to make the next part longer, hoping I'll have more time tonight to write. Thank you all for taking the time to read my work! Your likes, comments, reblogs, and follows truly mean the world to me!

Overall Summary: Although you were born in the Day Court, you've been living in the Night Court for a century. You're close with the inner circle but what will happen when a new healer is brought into the picture?

Part 4 Summary: After your body and soul have gone through so much, how likely is it you'll survive?

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Warnings: talks of injuries

"The combination of these plants can lead to some serious complications." Madja informed Rhys and Az.

All of the color drained from the spymaster's face.

"I believe the venom in the cut was from her mission. I would have found it sooner if I had done her check up." Madja muttered, ashamed.

"This is not your fault. It is mine for not seeing Clara for who she actually is sooner." Az responded.

"Now is not the time to take blame. Y/N needs us. What can we do now?" Rhys added.

Madja looked over you, taking a second to think.

"Well, the powder probably just sped up the venom which caused it to attack her powers quickly. It is like an infection, I will treat her with some medicine for that. But I believe there is a power inside of her that she is not aware of." Madja explained, "it might be the reason she is still alive right now."

Azriel walked closer to you, kneeling next to the bed. He laid his right hand over yours and used his left to push some hair off of your face.

"What about the complications you mentioned earlier?" Rhys asked.

"I have never seen the combination of Spitfire Aconite, Vamire, and Aldirin used where it didn't immediately kill the fae once it entered their system. Those three plants combined are deadly, perhaps the mystery inside of her is what saved her. I am not sure yet, I will treat her infection for now and we will figure out the rest as we go." Madja spoke definitively.

She began rummaging through her things to find the medicines. She pulled out some liquids, a salve, and bandages. Dropping some of the mixes in your mouth, she could tell your fever was already dropping.

"We need to flip her onto her stomach so I can access her cut." The healer told them.

"I'll do it." Az jumped up.

He gently rolled you over and went to take the salve from Madja who gave him a look.

"Please." Azriel begged, needing to help you in any way he could.

She nodded at him and gave him the necessary equipment. She pulled Rhys with her out of the room, leaving you in the shadowsinger's hands.

He coated your cut with the cream and bandaged it snugly. Pulling up a chair next to the bed, he sat and watched over you.

Rhys and Madja made their way down to the rest of the group.

"I will go figure out some treatments we can try. In the meantime, I think you need to deal with Clara." Madja spoke up to the High Lord.

He gave her a nod, a steely look already in his eyes thinking about what she did to you. Entering the living area, he sent out a surge of his power so everyone felt it. He walked straight to Clara but she refused to make eye contact with the male.

"I gave you a chance here at the Night Court, to be a part of something bigger and this is how you repay me? You have caused damage to my friend that I do not know can be undone." He growled out.

"What do you mean you don't know?" Mor whispered, afraid of his answer.

"We don't know if we will be able to help Y/N. Clara here used a deadly combination of herbs on her but I'm sure she didn't expect Y/N to be so strong. Isn't that right?" He demanded.

"Wh...What? No I...I just...it wasn't supposed to kill her. It was j...just supposed to heighten her symptoms so I could then fix her. I swear. I didn't think it would do any true h...harm." She stuttered out, realizing the extent of her actions.

"Hmm so you're not a killer? Just stupid." Rhys spit out, "Nesta. Cassian. I trust you two can take care of her while I try to find a fix for Y/N?"

"I thought you'd never ask." Cassian spoke, his voice rumbling.

Nesta didn't verbally respond, just held the icy gaze she had on Clara.

"What? You can't do that!!" The female began to plead, terrified to be punished at the hands of those two.

Before anyone could respond, Nesta and Cassian winnowed away with her. Mor looked to Rhys, they shared a sorrowful look. Feeling like they betrayed you, they knew they needed to make it right. But first, they would have to help you survive.

-----

All of the venom, plants, herbs, antidots, and serums that were inside you weren't enough to knock you out fully.

You were awake through it all, fighting with everything you had inside your mind. You had felt Rhys enter your mind, tried to control your light for him but it was so strong.

Once Azriel's shadows entered protecting Rhys, you knew you had to fight harder. But you could feel everything. You could feel Madja unweaving the venom from your very soul. It was not only the worst pain physically but it made you feel so vulnerable and weak as well.

You felt another energy inside of you, something you never felt before. You tried to explore it, but the venom was controlling it and you didn't have enough strength anymore.

With Rhys and Az in your mind and Madja deep in your soul, you had never felt so bare before.

Once they finished and the venom was completely removed, you needed to rest. Knowing you couldn't fight it anymore, you succumbed to sleep.

------

After a while, you woke up. Well, your mind was awake but your body wasn't. Your power seemed to be back in your control, at least it wasn't attacking you from the inside out anymore.

You felt like you could hear something calling out deep inside of you. You couldn't ignore it, it was as if you were hypnotized, following the sound.

There was nothing physically there, at least you couldn't see anything but you could certainly feel it. It was power, antsy to get out. You reached your hand toward it and it was as if it noticed you there finally. It latched onto you and energy shot through you.

It was a feeling you had never experienced before, consuming every cell in your body. You could feel it working its way through you, waking up your physical form.

Suddenly you sat straight up in bed, gasping, no longer trapped in your mind.

"You're awake!" Azriel spoke, his eyes wide in shock.

Taglist

@rcarbo1 @acourtofbatboydreams @bravo-delta-eccho @tele86 @theravenphoenix26

@anoneyesee @ren-ni @kabekusa @isa1b2h3 @i-am-infinite

@historygeekqueen @mariahoedt @fr0stf4ll @chelsiemp @romantasyreader28

@kissesfromnovalie @plants-w0rld @halo-mystic @bookishbishhh

[weaveme-into-yoursin]

.

[melzula]

well since requests are open i wanted to request a zuko fic?

zuko x waterbender reader in which someone from team avatar walks in on them kissing?

i feel like it’d be funny idk lol 😂

a/n: i love this trope it’s so funny. also it’s like subtly mentioned reader is a water bender since i didn’t wanna just shove it in there awkwardly. anyway hope you enjoy!

summary: a private moment between you and your boyfriend is interrupted by your unsuspecting friends

“Are you sure no one saw you come in here?”

“Yes, I’m sure,” Zuko says with a huff after closing the flaps of your tent. “You know, I’m starting to think you’re embarrassed to be seen with me.”

“You know that’s not true,” you argue with a frown. “I just enjoy having some privacy. I know those guys are going to make a big deal about us being together, and I just want to enjoy our relationship without having to deal with any prying eyes.”

“I know,” he admits with a sigh. “I’m just tired of sneaking around. Do you know how difficult it is not to kiss you or check on you after a fight with my sister? It’s torture.”

“It’s just until the war is over. There’s a lot at stake right now, and it would be a weird time to come clean. It’ll be over before you know it.”

“I hope you’re right,” Zuko murmurs with a frown, one that immediately melts away at the feel of your arms wrapping around his midsection. It’s hard to be upset when you’re smiling up at him with the purest look of adoration in your eyes. Despite everything, all of his flaws and mistakes and cruelty, you love him, and it fuels the warmth inside of his heart knowing he has someone like you. Maybe he would have joined the Avatar and his friends sooner if he knew it would lead him to you.

“At least we’re finally alone,” he notes with a faint smile before leaning down to press his lips against your own in a long awaited kiss. He hasn’t been able to give or receive affection all day, and it isn’t until now with your chest pressed against his own that he’s finally able to truly feel relaxed.

Unfortunately, you’re both too engrossed in each other to notice the rustling of your tent flaps as Sokka and Toph let themselves in without a second thought.

“Hey, y/n, Toph and I are gonna head into town, do you want to- oh, gross!” He cries after catching Zuko and yourself mid lip lock.

You both jump at the intrusion, knocking your head together on accident and groaning in unison at the impact.

“Sokka!” You cry out in embarrassment. “Monkey feathers, don’t you knock?!”

“It’s a tent! There is no knocking!” He yells back defensively, equally as upset as you are. “I can’t believe you guys were kissing!”

“We weren’t kissing,” Zuko argues, his face red with embarrassment. “We were… hugging… with our… mouths?”

“Oh, spirits,” you groan, your palm hitting your forehead in embarrassment at Zuko’s horrible attempt at lying. For a Prince, he has a terrible way with words. You’d think all that time spent with his Uncle would make his vocabulary more eloquent.

“If Toph could see she’d be very upset right now!” Sokka scolds, but the girl beside him simply shrugs.

“Actually, this works out great for me. Katara owes me five gold pieces now,” she says with a grin.

“You guys knew they were dating and didn’t tell me?!” The water tribe boy says in offense.

“I had a hunch, but Katara disagreed, so we made a bet.”

“Enough already! This is mortifying enough as it is,” you groan impatiently. “Sokka, we’ll talk about this later. For now, I need both of you out!”

After getting the two to leave the tent, you shut it closed with an irritated sigh. You’re absolutely humiliated, and you don’t think you can show your face to your friends ever again.

“So much for keeping it a secret,” the fire bender mutters.

“You,” you say with an accusatory finger pointed at the Prince, “need to learn how to lie better.”

“I know,” he admits meekly, awkwardly scratching the back of his neck. Sighing, you open your water pouch and tend to the growing bump on his head from your previous collision. You can’t stay mad at him when he looks so flustered and sweet, so instead you merely throw your arms around his neck and pull him back in for another kiss.

You can focus on coming clean later. For now, you just want to enjoy your moment of peace with the boy you love.

| zuko tags: @thebluelcdy @royahllty @the-firebender-girl @ilovespideyyy @yiyibetch @eridanuswave @lammello @a-monsters-love @knaite-solo @taeeemin @lora21

[tbaluver]

hello! I hope you're having a nice day ✨

can I request LADS men reaction to MC sending them videos of their baby like it's either them saying their first words or anything adorable since the men are away from home for quite a while and MC and their baby misses them ehe (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)

Sending Them Baby Videos When They're Away- The Love And DeepSpace Men

parings in order: Xavier x Reader, Zayne x Reader, Rafayel x Reader, Sylus x Reader genre: fluff fluff c/w: for sylus there's mention of him using his evol to x_x someone, no gore tho a/n: hihi anonnie! ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡ this was such a cute concept to write and i had to write this immediately (˚ ˃̣̣̥⌓˂̣̣̥ ) ‧º but i dunno if i did this justice so if it didnt, you alr know just pretend this doesn't exist ദ്ദി ༎ຶ‿༎ຶ ) anyways them as papas are such a cute concept i have so much of it in my drafts that i'll post soon ): enjoy reading and have a nice day or night anonnie ! (ෆ˙ᵕ˙ෆ)♡

⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆

Xavier:

He was sent away for a mission for a couple days due to fluctuations of Wanderers in the area. Unfortunately if he was by himself, it wouldn’t have taken days but his teammates were dragging him down.

His phone chimes, signaling a notification from you. Opening his phone he sees a video you had sent him.

“Rahhh!!” Your son squeals, hitting his toy sword at your plushies that you both won a couple years ago. Your laughter was in the background, making his lips tug into a smile. He missed you both as he watched the video. He was quick to text you back.

₍ᐢ. .ᐢ₎: is he protecting mommy

₍ᐢ. .ᐢ₎: it seems i have taught him well

He clicked off his phone, determination bursting through him. He wants to go back home. The warmth of your laughter and the sight of your son, drove him forward. This mission dragged on way too long, he was going to finish this himself.

He moved swiftly, slashing his sword with precision. The hours flew by as well as the number of Wanderers. Without any word to his teammates from the mission, he headed out. He couldn’t wait to see the look on you and your son's face when he walked through the door.

₍ᐢ. .ᐢ₎:  i’m on my way home now. does our son need a partner to protect you?

Zayne:

Zayne isn’t easily distracted except when it comes to you and a box of macaroons. Now if it was you and a box of macaroons that would be a deadly combo.

During his meetings or when he’s about to head into a surgery, he always lets you know if he’s occupied so you know he won’t be able to reply right away. But right after all of that is over, he’ll immediately check his phone for you and ignore any of his notifications.

But when he’s in his office, the moment he receives a message from you, he can’t help but glance away from the reports he needs to file or send over to the nurses. Your messages always pull him in no matter what.

He unlocks his phone and is instantly met with another cute video of your baby daughter. She’s wearing his freshly clean white coat, which she had pulled from the laundry basket. She’s also wearing his oversized shoes that are comically too big for her tiny feet. “Papa!” She squeals, her face lighting up with a silly smile as she looks into the camera.

A soft laugh escapes his lips and he can’t help but replay the video a couple more times, his heart melting each time. It’s as if he can hear her giggles through the screen. With a wide smile curling up on his lips, he texts you back.

☃︎ ♡: How adorable. I think we need to get her one that’s her size

☃︎ ♡: I have one more break after I finish this report. I can call you both when I finish.

☃︎ ♡: I’ll finish up my work quickly so I can get home sooner.

Rafayel:

He didn’t want to be at this art exhibition, or quite frankly any art exhibition if you weren’t there. All he could think about was being home with you and the babies. Leaving them behind felt like one of the hardest things he could ever do.

You sent him a cute and chaotic video while he was away. “Quick, show daddy what you just did!” you exclaimed, as you aimed the camera at your baby waving a crayon clumsily in their tiny hands while you cheered with enthusiasm. “Glub! gub gub!”

He couldn’t help but let out a wide smile, his little baby was going to be just like their papa, an artist in the making and even better they were learning Glubglubnese. The video ends up with your other baby blowing bubbles to their sibling and they start wailing.

Watching the video, his heart ached with longing for his family. He was a father. He was your husband and he shouldn’t have to miss out on all these precious moments he has wanted with you for a long time. He wanted to be there in person and experience the joy with you.

He texts you while making long strides to the exit, ignoring all the reporters and critics that tried to approach him.

𓆟:  tell them to stop being cute until i get back

𓆟: cutie im on my way

𓆟: i miss you and my little glub glubs

𓆟: getting the fastest plane ticket there rn

𓆟: see you soon cutie ( ˘ ³˘)

Sylus:

He was away for another business deal for a couple of days, a business deal that shouldn’t have taken this long and Sylus was getting irritated. “Mr. Sylus, we’re really sorry! Please give us a couple more days! We don’t know what happened to half of the inventory!” The man begged with desperation on his face but Sylus did not have the time for a couple more days.

Before Sylus could respond, his phone chimed with a familiar notification. He raises a finger, signaling for a moment while Luke and Kieran keep the restricted men distracted.

Opening his phone, he was met with an adorable video of your baby daughter. She was dressing up Mephisto in her doll clothes, her giggles flooding through the speakers of his phone. “Caw....” Mephisto caws defeatedly, his head drooping down. “Caw! caw!” Your daughter squeals, her laughter and yours was infectious as she lifts him up in the air, dashing around the living room with pure joy.

He couldn’t help but chuckle, a smile tugging at his lips as he watches the video. Once he clicked off his phone, a sigh escaped his lips. His heart ached with so much longing for you both and he couldn’t bear missing even more precious moments with you and your baby girl.

As Luke and Kieran snicker, stepping aside, crimson swirls began to surround the men, slowly suffocating them until they vanished into thin air.

“Send their team another warning. We’re going home.”

𓅪: The business deal is finally finished. I apologize for the wait, sweetie.

𓅪: I’ll call you both before I get on the plane. I hope I didn't miss much.

𓅪: I'll pick up more doll clothes for her on my way back.

Once he was in his private jet he couldn’t wait to have you and his baby girl in his arms again.