#but then she's like 'but i do like the embroidery circle because it's relaxing to be away from the men for a while' | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

lily-drake · 3 years ago

Note

Are you going to adda part two to Bargain?? I wont pressure u into it but If u want to can you pleasee do a part two??

Fulfilled

Time was an ever present, never ending, unhaulting force that was always neutral. It was never time’s fault for when things were good and bad, for it always went on for everyone. It didn’t do favors for good or bad people, it didn’t do redos, it always went forward. So time passed, time passed and things were different because change and time work together.

“Hey Marinette, how are you feeling today?”

Tim asked gently as he sat next to the girl on her chaise. Marinette looked up from her embroidery work and smiled at him, carefully taking his hand into her own.

“Better now that you're here.”

She said brightly. It had been 1 month since he had shown up, two weeks since there was a new Cat Miraculous holder, and it was no coincidence to Marinette. Tikki was the one to make the reveal between the two happen as she flew in front of him and demanded that he simply hold her hand. Apparently being in physical proximity with her balance had helped her, but little bits of physical affection now that he was wearing the ring would help her even more. It reminded Tim of Ivy’s Cuddle Pollen, and that made it easier for him to understand the events that were thrust upon him so quickly.

“Did you go to school today?”

He asked as he rubbed small circles on the back of her hand with his thumb.

“Yea, can’t say I liked it very much. It really took a lot out of me to stay conscious.”

Tim could tell she wasn’t telling him something, that there was more to the story than she was letting on. He wouldn’t push though, they really hadn’t known each other for very long and he didn’t want to intrude.

“Alright, do you feel well enough to go on a walk? From what I’ve been told you need to get some strength back.”

Marinette sighed and leaned her head against his shoulder tiredly,

“Do we have to? I wouldn’t mind just taking a nap.”

Tim chuckled and began to slowly stand up pulling her up with him.

“We need to get you moving again outside of the suit. Tikki said that going outside and being around nature should help your healing process. Besides, it's a warm day. It will be nice.”

Marinette sighed as her legs wobbled under her due to the lack of usage. It had been almost two weeks since she had even moved without the help of Tikki’s magic as Ladybug when Tim had first come. Then after that it took another week of him visiting before she was able to even climb out of bed to move to her chaise without feeling like she was being burned alive from the inside out.

“Alright. Just to the park, once around, then we come back.”

Tim smiled and nodded,

“Yea, we could also sit on a bench when we’re done, and relax under some shade. You’re about as pale as me, and that’s not necessarily a good thing.”

Marinette let out a small giggle as he helped her slowly down the stairs.

Marinette liked Tim, he was a support and a person that she didn’t realize she needed. He was always so kind, patient, and it felt like he really cared for her. He was so unlike other people she was friends with before. When she was friends with Alya and the others they were always pushing her to do things she was uncomfortable with, expecting things from her she just couldn’t give. It was toxic and felt almost suffocating. Tim felt freeing, she knew he would never force her to do anything she didn’t want to, and he would support her with whatever decision she decided to make.

Tim held her hand through the walk, sometimes letting go and taking a few steps ahead of her as he encouraged her to take some steps by herself.

“You did great today!”

He cheered as they sat down on one of the park benches. Marinette gave a small smile breathing in deeply as she tried to catch her breath. Marinette opened her mouth to respond, a high-pitched voice cut through.

“Look who finally decided to show her face.”

A shrill laugh,

“Still pretending to be sick I see.”

Marinette ducked her head as Lila and Alya mocked her, not noticing the confusion and disdain that filled Tim’s face.

“What, nothing to say?”

Lila mocked as she leaned in while placing a hand on her hip.

“It’s not like you’ll listen to or believe anything I say.”

She mumbled to herself, no one else but Tim heard what she said. Tim’s gaze hardened and he knew why Marinette often came back from school tired and defeated. It didn’t look like anyone defended her.

“Excuse me ladies,”

Tim began, as he stood up and walked towards the two. Lila’s eyes seemed to brighten and gleam in a manner Tim had seen far too many times at galas. She thought that she could manipulate him into liking her.

“I’m Miss Marinette’s physiatrist. The pain she is in and facing is not some façade. We have only recently discovered what has been the cause of her ailment and are currently in the process of helping her heal.”

He said in a cool professional manner, trying his best to stay as neutral as possible. Plagg had mentioned side effects of being slightly more protective of Marinette than he would for others. It didn’t help that his vigilante need to protect was also heavily weighed into it.

The girls simply rolled their eyes,

“Wow Marinette. I didn’t realize you were this desperate for attention. You seriously paid some random person to pretend to be your doctor. This is a new low, even for you.”

Marinette could feel some of the aches and pains from earlier return, and though it wasn’t the burning it was before, it felt like she was being stabbed by pins and needles all along her body. Tim opened his mouth to say something but the small hiss of pain Marinette made when she reached up to tug at his hand had him turning around immediately and making sure she was okay.

“It’s okay Tim, let's just head back.”

Tim nodded and slowly helped her stand up, letting her lean on him to support her weight as pain flared through her body. The two girls kept “whispering” to the other, but Tim ignored them in favor of helping Marinette get away from them. There was no doubt in his mind that they were at least partially responsible for Marinette’s condition. Before they even made it into the bakery there was a loud crash from somewhere deeper in the city.

Tim glared at where smoke was rising as they walked towards her room as he grumbled about how villains always had the worst timing and how it just wasn’t fair. Once the trapdoor was closed Marinette quickly called on her transformation letting Tikki take over for the time being. Tim knew the protocol by this point as he promised that he would return tomorrow to pick her up for her actual physical therapy appointment. He promptly left the building to go somewhere else to transform so it wouldn’t be suspicious.

They had made a cover story that the reason that Marinette was in the pain she was in was because she had Rheumatoid Arthritis. To make the healing process seem believable Tim brought her a specific “medication” she would have to take. This medication would be made from the instructions from the Book of the Guardian’s along with some help from Zatanna to make sure it wouldn’t be too much of a magical strain on her already magically overstrained body. Tim visited her often to make sure everything was going well as her “special doctor” (caretaker) that her parents hired full time to make sure that their baby girl would never have to go through that amount of pain ever again.

The fight was over rather quickly, but the destruction caused in the interim was massive. The Akuma had been throwing explosives all over Paris, an upset demolitionist who lost their job, and had been blowing up whatever building or structure was in sight. The amount of energy it took from Marinette to heal everyone and everything took almost everything out of her. She collapsed and fell onto her knees as she gasped for air that seemed nonexistent and unobtainable. Ombre fell in front of her and quickly placed her hands against his chest as he tried to get her to breathe again. He was calm and collected, but as she stared into his bright silver eyes, she knew that he was just as afraid as she was.

“It’s okay Ladybug. You need to breathe, I can’t help you if you don’t breathe first. That’s it, come on. Breathe in 2, 3, 4; hold, 2, 3, 4; and out 2, 3, 4. You’re doing so well, that’s right, can you repeat the pattern for me?”

Marientte did her best to listen to Tim, to follow the pattern he spoke and did himself; but it was so hard. Even though she wasn’t wearing more than the Ladybug Miraculous for this fight the strain she felt was as if she were wearing all of them at once all over again! She could feel gentle hands pick her up, and she knew that if it wasn’t for Tikki’s magic surrounding her she would have screamed from the pain of being moved. She knew that as soon as she called off her transformation she would feel as if she were burning in a bath of lava once again.

“It’s okay, I’ve got you. I’ll drop you off on your balcony then I’ll disappear, call me and I’ll come right over.”

“Alright.”

Ladybug whispered as she leaned into her partner's shoulder. It only took a few moments before they reached her balcony where he quickly set her on her beach chair before hightailing it out before anyone could spot him. Marinette didn’t even need to call for her de-transformation as only a few seconds later it ended by itself causing her to shout out from the intense agony that slammed down against her entire being. Her parents or someone must have heard her as soon enough both of them had raced up to check on her, her mother calling Tim for her as each movement she took caused her to gasp for breath from the sheer intensity of the pain. She could feel the warm tears trail down her face like a waterfall as small sobs escaped. Tim was there in less than 5 minutes.

_________ She wasn’t able to go back to school for another two weeks after that incident, and she was thankful that Tim stayed with her to help her to do it online. Maybe it would be best for her to just finish high school online completely. No drama, no bullies, and it would be easier to escape for Akuma Attacks.

“What are you doing?”

Tim asked one day as he walked into the apartment only to see Marientte baking.

“What are you doing?”

Tim asked as he walked up and placed his head atop her shoulder. Marinette smiled and tilted her head slightly so it rested against his for a second as a small greeting.

“I’m baking two galettes, one for the kwamii and one for you.”

“Why me?”

He asked quietly as he tilted his head, his dark tresses brushing against her bare neck. Marientte smiled mischievously,

“I think it’s time I follow through on our little bargain, and this is one of my favorite desserts.”

Tim stared at her in confusion for a second before his eyes widened and shined brightly with happy realization.

“I forgot about that. There’s just been so much craziness going on.”

Marinette hummed in agreement as she continued to work on the delicacy.

“Does that mean you believe that you’re going to live through this?”

Marinette paused and tilted her head so they made eye contact.

“Yea, I think I will. As long as you stay by me that is.”

She whispered with a small smile. Quickly she leaned down and placed a small kiss to the top of his head before turning back to her work. Tim’s cheeks flushed slightly, a grin spread across his face. Things weren't going to be easy. Both knew that very well. Marinette would always struggle with the magical strain due to how long she was forced to be surrounded by it, Tim would need to go back to Gotham sooner or later, and they were both heroes and both knew the life or death risks that were lurking about every corner. But for now, they enjoyed the peace and calm that surrounded them. Marinette hummed a gentle song while Tim continued to hug her from behind, asking her quiet questions and passing small jokes that only they would understand. Things would never be certain, they never fully be okay, but they were content with the knowledge, the fact that they would never be or have to suffer alone ever again.

Taglist:

@aespades @adrestar @astrynyx @doll246 @queenz-z @toodaloo-kangaroo @crazylittlemunchkin @seraphichana @miraculous-ninja @dorkus-minimus @mysticsoulgirl @ritacrow-blog @snow-leopard-777 @fidget-eep @sometandomstuff333 @lady-phoenix-of-tardis @shreeing @achaoticmess1 @miraculous-ninja @liquid-luck-00 @buginetye @stainedglassm @prettylittlebutterflie @laurcad123

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missblissy · 3 years ago

Note

Hello! I hope you are doing okay! Could I please request alastor x reader headcanons of them getting married? Thank you!

(( *girlish squeal* @u@ Yes. Enjoy.))

How could he be this nervous? He was never this nervous. Not ever. Not even when he proposed to you, and that was probably the most terrifying moment of his life but he still held his nerves and controlled himself. So why couldn't he do that now?

"Relax Al... Your face looks like it's about to fall off." Relax? How? How could he relax? He looked at Charlie in the reflection of the mirror, then at Angel. They both looked unsettled by him. Maybe he did look a little too... unnatural with the way his smile seemed to almost tear his skin. Alastor took in a deep breath and closed his eyes, "What if she changes her mind?" He asked.

Angel laughed at that, "Nah. Not her." Somehow that didn't help "If she wanted to leave your ass she would have by now, dude." Okay... that helped a little. Charlie smacked Angel's arm and waved him away, "Everything's going to be fine," She said, "Vaggie and Nifty are with here right now. And you have to go out soon- before her."

Okay... Okay! He was getting married today, to the woman who once literally stole his heart. I guess a perk of being dead is you don't really need a heart, but he was glad you were the one who stole it figuratively and literally. He's never done anything like this. You were his first for everything on the list of firsts. So maybe he was nervous because deep down inside he knew he could fuck this up. That was the last thing he wanted.

He took in another long and deep breath, but this time as he exhaled he bestowed a smile on his face, opening his eyes with a glimmer of a red hue glowing to life. He could do this, "Let's get this show started."

You sat still and fought the urge to sneeze as you felt the dusting of a brush polish the last of your makeup. You half-listened to Vaggie and Nifty's conversation. Something about how beautiful the hotel was. Something else about how this was probably the most informal wedding ever. No one wore white to this wedding. Black and red only, with gold here and there, at your request of course.

"G-guys- I think that's good on the-" You tried saying, but Nifty hushed you quickly, "Stop! I'm almost done! You have to look perfect!" Did you though? This whole thing was supposed to be small and simple but somehow somewhere along the lines from then and now... Well, that didn't happen, "Alastor has never been married before. At least you had that when you were alive!" Wasn't this supposed to be the bride's day?

You finally got to open your eyes and take in your own form. It was easy for your to say you were most certainly more beautiful than when you were alive for your first wedding. You thought how ironic that was seeing as you were a demon now. But it was the dress the really sold you on it all. The entire length of it was black as night. You felt like a princess with how long the tail of the dress stretched behind you. The dark and exquisite embroidery laced up your arms and down your dress.

"You can't forget these," Vaggie said, she stood at your side as she handed you your bouquet. You laughed quickly, you had forgotten. There was one exception for white. You reached down and let your fingers trace along with the white petals of the flower. You giggled again and thought, Alastor will get a laugh at these. The soft but bright glow of the yellow within the Poet's Narcissus complimented their white outer petals. Otherwise known as a very fancy daffodil. The poor man was named after the damn things, after all. There was s reason he didn't like to share his full name. His mother would be at the wedding too, as well, so the bouquet might also win a few points with her, "Are you ready?" Vaggie asked. You took in a deep breath, brought the flowers to your nose, and soaked their scent in. As you exhaled you looked to her and nodded your head, "I'm ready."

Everything was perfect, at least for the two of you. It didn't really matter to either of you that anyone else was there. Every moment was picture perfect, from the aisle to the ceremony, the I'do's. Even the part where Alastor was hesitant but more so shy to kiss you in front of all those people. For a man who loved living upon a stage, he sure was nervous of the crowd and all the eyes on him for once. But you found that endearing, and honestly adorable as well. Now there was supposed to be a reception, very modern ya' know. It's the 21st century, people do those things. Everyone was on their way there... but not you. Nor your husband. Like I said, you were supposed to.

But very much like Alastor to be stuck in his era, he found a way to convince you to run away with him, "We gave everyone the ceremony. We don't need to go to some silly party and listen to people talk about us. I just want it to be us, we can go right now. Anywhere you want, I will take us there." You were standing beside him, just outside the reception hall. You could hear all the guests inside waiting for the two of you. You thought over what Alastor said. An idea sparked in your mind and you gave him a coy look, "Can you... take us to the surface?"

He raised a brow but still smirked back at you, "Is the pope catholic?" He jested, that was his way of saying yes. Then he gave a snap of his fingers. The two of you were masked in human forms, "Where to, my love?"

Alastor held his arm out to you. With a smile you curled your arm around his, linking them together, "Have you ever been to Paris?" You saw the interest flicker on his face. He tipped his head slightly and grinned, "No, but I will be soon, care to come, my dear?" You laughed as he gave a wave of his hand. Ruins filled the air to form a circle the tore open a portal. With shared giggles, the two of you left just in time before anyone could ever find you.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor #alastor x reader #reader insert #headcanons #cute #fluffy #alastor x you #blissy writes #anon #nonny #asks

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akingdomofswordsandstories · 4 years ago

Text

Unrequited

azriel (acotar) x reader

Summary: takes place during acofas, you and Azriel are mates but he doesn’t know it yet, angst, fluff, and everything in between

*Also this is my first imagine ever so I'm sorry if it sucks lol! There will be a part 2 to this, but I am still working on it!!

word count: 3927

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The winter solstice was in a few days and you weren’t sure what to get some of the inner circle. You walked briskly down the streets of the Rainbow, chilled to the bone due to the wind. You had made the dumb mistake of rushing out of the townhouse - to avoid any questions of where you were going - without taking your scarf. Your current outfit, which was a chunky knit blue sweater with leggings and boots, wasn’t enough to keep the chill away. But the cold wasn’t the most important thing on your mind. You had already bought presents for Rhys, Feyre, Amren, and Elain, but that left Cassian, Mor, and Azriel. Mor and Cass would be pretty easy to buy for, but you put it off knowing they would look through your room trying to find their solstice gift. But Azriel, that would be much harder.

Every waking hour, the shadowsinger haunted your thoughts. Something you had come to conclude was unrequited.

You had realized the mating bond between you two before he did.

It had clicked a few months ago while on a diplomatic mission. The aftermath of Hybern had left things chaotic, and if you were being honest, it still was. Rhys decided to send Cassian, Mor, Azriel, and you to travel to some of the other courts to bring back reports on the recovery after the war. However, traveling did have some dangers. While you were on your way back to Velaris from the Winter Court, your group was ambushed by a group of Hybern soldiers who had been hiding out in the mountains. Had it not been for Azriel’s wings shielding you from the initial arrows, you would’ve surely been dead, and that’s when it clicked for you. But like an idiot, you didn’t say anything.

You had thought if the bond had clicked for you, it would've clicked for Azriel too. You realized your mistake when Azriel hadn’t acknowledged any change between you two. You hoped that he would figure it out in the coming weeks, but he didn’t. You knew the same sort of situation happened with feyre and rhys so you still held out some hope. But as the months went by, and you realized the bond still hadn’t clicked for Azriel and it felt too late to tell him.

At least that was the excuse you made up. Truly, you were also afraid of the rejection that could have followed. You weren’t a fool, you knew him and Elain had some sort of connection, and that shattered your dreams even more. The possibility that he wouldn’t accept the mating bond to be with the fair skinned, doe eyed fae. Everytime Azriel was in the same room as Elain, she was the only thing he would pay attention to. During gatherings, you would plaster on a smile and act as if you were happy, but Cassian and Mor, your best friends, could sense your discomfort. They tried to ask you about it, but seeing as you would shut down anything they said, they decided not to pry too much. Amren ended up figuring out the source of your discomfort had to do with Azriel, but kept your secret until you would be ready to share it.

You came to the conclusion that distancing yourself from him would be the best option, so that's what you did.

You walked down the street till you got to one of the finest seamstresses is Velaris. Since you were an artist like Feyre, you decided to draw out a dress and have it made for Mor. The color was blood red, her signature. It was a silk slip dress that would come down to her mid-lower calf and it would be embroidered with a brilliant gold thread. You drew out a pattern of the sun, stars, and moon, which you hoped she would like. To go along with Mor’s dress, you got a jeweler to make a custom necklace and bracelet set to go with it. You designed more dainty jewelry that had gold stars with diamonds, since she was a dreamer.

You decided to design Cassian’s gift as well, creating a beautiful silver and black dagger with a moonstone on the hilt. It was a beautiful dagger, but you also made sure it was usable, because you would hate for it to go to waste. To add onto the combat theme, you also decided to buy him new fighting leathers with touches of red embroidery to match his siphons. Lastly, you bought Cassian a bottle of fae wine, which definitely wouldn't last long.

The last thing you got for all three of you was a friendship necklace. Although that sounds corny, the two of them had become such a positive force in your life and you couldn’t imagine life without them. Keeping with the celestial theme for the friendship necklaces, you bought a sun, a moon, and a star. The sun for Cassian, the moon for Mor, and the star for you. Although they are opposites in some ways, all three need each other, just like the three of you needed each other.

Now that you had gotten Mor’s and Cassian’s solstice gifts figured out, it was onto Azriel’s gift. You honestly had no clue what to get him. Due to distancing yourself, you weren’t sure if there was something that he wanted. You were positively stumped. Lucky for you though, you ended up spotting Mor in another shop a few stores down from where you were, most likely getting the rest of her solstice gifts. You decided to sneak up on her as a friendly prank. Grabbing her shoulders, you yelled in her ear, making her jump.

“Oh mother above, it’s just you, y/n! You scared the life out of me” Mor said.

“Doing some last minute shopping?” you asked. “I could ask you the same thing”. Giving her a playful smack on the arm, the corners of your mouth curled upward, even the simplest remark from her could make you smile.

The two of you were currently standing in front of a jewelry shop, looking at the collections of necklaces and earrings through the window. “Wow” you breathed out “These are all so beautiful”

“Indeed they are, although they’re quite pricey”

“How pricey is pricey?”

She whispered the amount in your ear and you stopped breathing for a second, “Holy Mother wow, that is quite the price tag. At least we can admire it from a far”, you laughed out. Even though you got a very generous salary from Rhys, you still felt guilty spending so much money on materialistic things.

After a moment you said, “Actually, since you’re here, I do need help finding a solstice gift for Azriel”, softening your voice at the end, “Any ideas?” you asked, drawing out the syllables.

“Well, I always get Azriel some cool towels, clothing, or a dagger!” Mor said. A small scoff came out of my mouth as I shook my head and raised my eyebrows. “Fine!” she exclaimed, “I may have overheard him needing a new leather sheath for Truth Teller.” grumbling towards the end. “Oh that sounds great, thank you for the help! Now let’s go off to the closest leather goods store and find a sheath!”.

“y/n! I still have shopping to do” a scowl appearing on her face. “Fine, I guess I’ll just call Cassian, cause his judgement might be better than yours, when it comes to knife related things of course” you said, baiting her.

“Ugh, I hate you y/n”

“I hate you too Mor”

“Fine, let's get going before I change my mind” she grumbled. Then we took off down the streets of the Rainbow to find a sheath.

The task was easier said than done, for you at least. Being indecisive and a major over thinker, you had looked through close to 100 sheaths, but none of them seemed good enough to hold the blade that Azriel never let anyone else touch. Except Elain.

While you were lost in your thoughts, you laid your y/c eyes on the perfect sheath. It had a bright cobalt blue stitching to match Az’s siphons. Along the tip and lining the top of the leather was a thin coat of silver plating with little sapphires embedded in the metal. You quickly snatched it up and paid a hefty price for it, but it was perfect.

“Thank god you finally picked one, it felt like we were in that store for centuries”. Mor sighed, probably a sigh of relief for getting out of the store, “But y/n, it’s perfect, I know Azriel will love it”

“Do you really think so? I just want it to be the perfect gift and I’m scared he won’t like it because what if it’s too simplistic and what if-”

“Hey! It's perfect! Don’t stress too much y/n. And for the record, I think that you’re an amazing gift giver - the amount of thought you put into gifts make it all the better.”

You could feel a blush creeping up your cheeks and mumbled a small thank you.

“Anyway while we’re here do you need to get anything to go with your solstice outfit?”

“Oh Actually, I was so stressed about getting everyone’s solstice gift that I forgot to buy my dress” your voice falling off at the end. You felt yourself being yanked to a harsh stop and the saw Mor’s face staring at yours, mouth gaping and eyes wide.

“Are you crazy?? Solstice is in 3 days and you still don’t have anything??? Oh honey, our shopping isn’t done yet.” And with that statement you found yourself being pulled into the nearest dress shop. After trying on nearly 20 dresses you finally found the perfect one, which Mor approved. It was a light blue silk dress that was more fitted at the top but flared down at your waist. It had a cowl neckline, a slit going up the side to the mid upper thigh, and accentuates your curves beautifully and has a slight shimmer to it. You looked ethereal in it

---------------------------------

After your exhausting day of shopping, you couldn’t wait to get out of the cold. You swiftly walked back to the townhouse. Once inside you made your way to your room to set down the gifts, change your clothes, and grab your book. Then you quietly headed down to the kitchen to make yourself a cup of tea and sat on the couch to read. The house was quiet since all of the others decided to go to Rita’s tonight. You decided to stay home for some much needed relaxation. You opened your book and started reading. After a few hours, you felt your eyes drooping and eventually, sleep consumed you.

The loud noise of the front door caused you to stir and your eyes fluttered open. You were too exhausted to look so you just laid your head back down and tried to go to sleep. You could hear Mor whispering something and then felt yourself being lifted off the couch and being held close to a chest with your blanket still draped on you.

“Cass?” you whispered hoarsely along with a string of incoherent words

You heard a slight laugh “Not Cass but It’s ok, go back to sleep”. Then you felt yourself being gently placed on your bed and the sleep hit you before you could mutter a thank you.

---------------------------------

The sun was setting towards the sea as you sat in the sitting room of the town house. You were in your blue silk dress with a glass of wine in your hand. Rhys and Feyre were by the mantel, quietly talking while Mor and Amren were across the room. Near the window I saw Elain, and from the corner of my eye I could see Azriel making his way towards her. My face fell but I quickly plastered on a smile, not wanting to concern anyone. Especially since today was also Feyre’s birthday and we had planned a surprise for her. Feyre thought she could slip her birthday past us, but we hadn’t forgotten. After a few minutes, Cassian made his way from the kitchen with the enormous cake.

You floated towards Feyre and gave her arm a light squeeze. “Happy Birthday, make a wish before the candles melt!”

She blew out the candles and then we ate cake before opening up the presents.

---------------------------------

Rhys snapped his fingers and piles of brightly wrapped bags and boxes filled up the sitting room. Amren was the first to open her presents. Naturally, everyone got her something jewelry related. Amren opened mine and you saw a wide smile set across her face, she picked up the diamond necklace and nodded a ‘thank you’ your way. You returned the gesture back, a small smile forming on your face.

Next, Cassian handed Mor her present from him and she pulled out a-. You couldn’t believe what you were seeing. He bought her red lingerie. Your face turned slightly red, but the Mor said “Don’t let him fool you: he couldn’t think of a damn thing to get me, so he gave up and asked me outright. I gave him precise orders. For once in his life, he obeyed them.”

Then, you heard one sharp knock at the door.

Nesta.

You saw Cassian tense up a bit. Nesta walked in, linking arms with Elain. She got a glass of wine before heading to sit in a chair in the back of the room. The silence was deafening. Finally Varian started talking and the present opening resumed.

From Amren, you received a new calligraphy set. It was so beautiful and you loved it. From Rhys, you got some books. It was perfect since you loved to read, and they were ones that you had been wanting to read for a long time. From Feyre, you received a painting as well as a new paint brush kit.

Cassian made his way to you and set a gift down in your lap. You opened the dark blue box that Cassian had placed in your lap. He had gotten you a sky blue hardbound journal with a gold embossed star on it. You desperately needed a new one, and this was perfect. You walked over and gave him a hug, whispered “Thank you, I love it.”.

Next you opened Mor’s present. You nearly choked when you saw what she got you and your whole face heated up. She got you a matching navy blue lingerie set like the one Cassian bought her.

“Yeah, I wasn’t too sure what to get you so I thought we could twin”. You looked around the room and saw the others holding in their laughs. You could’ve sworn you saw a tinge of red on Azriel’s ears. You just smiled and mouthed a silent “I’m going to kill you, but thank you” at her.

There wasn’t anything from Azriel. Your heart twinged. Had you not been important enough? It was just a present you reminded yourself, fixing your composure before handing Cassian his present.

He ripped it open like an animal, squealing when he saw it. A promising reaction given the amount of thought you put into it.

“Did you design these? They look amazing!”

“Yeah, I’m glad you like it. It took a long time to figure out what to get for your dumb ass”

“You mean my cute ass”, you smacked his arm and then got up to give Mor her present.

You closely watched her reaction as she opened her dress and jewelry, a large smile spreading across her face.

“You really buy the perfect presents y/n, I love it”.

“Oh Cass, Mor. One more thing.” You pulled out the small boxes with the friendship necklaces and bracelets handing it to them. “This was just a little something extra I thought of, I hope you like it”. You knew you would have started stuttering and crying if you had said the meaning to them, so you just handed them notes instead. They read over them, eyes glossing over, and pulled you into a hug.

“This is the only time I’ll wear jewelry” Cass stated, causing you to chuckle

Then Mor said, “I am never taking this off” causing you to laugh again.

Finally, Azriel opened up his presents. He had opened up all the others. All that was left was yours and Elain’s gift to him. He found his way to your present first, opening it.

“A new sheath for Truth Teller. I heard you needed a new one” you quietly said.

He held your gaze and smiled, “Thank you, it's great”. Suddenly feeling exposed, you quickly gave him a nod.

Then he went to open Elain’s gift. “It’s a powder to mix in with any drink.” she said.

Silence.

Elain bit her lip and then smiled sheepishly. “It’s for the headaches everyone always gives you. Since you rub your temples so often.”

Silence again.

Then Azriel tipped his head back and laughed.

You hadn’t heard him laugh before, and mother above it was gorgeous. You had never heard a sound so deep and joyous, a sound which made your heart clench. A part of you wished you were the reason he was laughing. You forced on a smile and spent the rest of the night drinking away the slight pain in your chest.

You were exhausted by the end of the night, sitting on the couch with Cassian and Mor, Azriel and Rhys seated on the opposite side of you.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw movement towards the door, and craned your head to see what was going on. It was Nesta making her way to the door. You felt the couch lift next to you.

Cassian. He had swiftly pushed past Feyre and went after Nesta. This wouldn’t end well.

---------------------------------

Cassian had come back quiet and brooding, walking straight to the kitchen to pour himself a glass of liquor. You got up off the couch and followed him straight into the kitchen.

“Cass, let’s take a walk, yeah?”

“I just took a walk”

“It wasn’t a question”. You grabbed a white shawl and his hand and led him outside. “What happened?”

“What’s there to talk about? It was like all the other times. Why did I have to fall in love with someone who doesn't even love me back. Who looks at me like the Illyrian born bastard I am. Who hates the idea of being in the same room as me.”

You grabbed Cass’ hand, lightly squeezing it. “Don’t say that. Nesta, she,” your voice stopping for a second “She’s different. The way she handles pain and copes is different. Give her time. She just needs time. I know how much that may pain you, but you can’t rush healing”

You pulled him into a hug

“And for the record, I know the feeling more than you know” you quietly said “unrequited love”, head pointed at the ground.

Cassian tilted his head down to look at you, his face painted with confusion. You could tell he wanted to know more, but didn’t want to pry too much.

You hesitated before continuing, not sure if you wanted to reveal your closely guarded secret. “I-“ your voice faltering, “I found my mate”. The words seemed to have rushed out of your mouth and tears pricked your eyes as you said that. After months of hiding it, you had finally gotten it off your chest.

Cassian stood shocked, staring at you. “You found your mate? And you didn’t think to tell any of us? How long ago was this”

“I-, I found out who he was around the same time Rhys sent us on that diplomatic mission. And I didn’t tell anyone because he doesn’t even know yet.”

“That was almost 6 months ago, and you didn’t say anything?”.

The tears had started flowing at this point, “I thought he would figure it out. But by the time I realized he wasn’t going to figure it out, it was too late. He had already set his eyes on someone else. And I know I could never compete with Elain, even if I am his mate.” the last part slipped out without you realizing.

“Elain? What does she-“ his eyes widening “Does that mean Az is-“

You slowly nodded, tears welled up, threatening to spill out.

“Oh, mother…”, he pulled you into a tighter hug and that’s when the gates broke. You couldn’t hold back your tears as you sobbed into Cassian's chest, his hand stroking your back.

you must have been there for 15 minutes before you realized the other might start getting suspicious. Regaining your composure, you dried your tears and tried, to the best of your ability, to hide that you had been crying.

Looking back at Cassian, you gave him a slight smile before muttering, “Thank you. I’m sorry for dumping that on you, but please promise me you won’t tell anyone. Please.”

“Of course y/n, and don’t apologize, if it makes you feel better, it helped to take my mind off of Nesta and my own problems, which I desperately needed” he chuckled out.

With the smile still on your face, you linked arms with Cassian before saying, “Oh mother above it’s freezing, let’s get back inside before we turn into popsicles!”

He let out another laugh before the two of you made your way back into the house.

---------------------------------

You walked into the house and your sliver of happiness was crushed as you saw Az and Elain sitting at the table smiling and laughing quietly to themselves. Elain had her sketchbook out, showing Az her plans for the garden.

Your distraught had been clear to anyone who saw your face, and you were too tired to realize you weren’t able to hide it fast enough. Not being able to view the scene anymore, you quickly got up, muttered happy solstice, and grabbed your coat and purse before heading out the door to your apartment.

While walking home, you were consumed by your thoughts. You hated the pangs of jealousy that coursed through you. You often found yourself jealous of her soft spokenness and kindness. You also found yourself jealous of her effortless beauty. It was something that kept you up at night. She was so likeable and easily approachable, something you wished you were.

You were so drowned in your own thoughts that you hadn’t noticed a male following you till it was too late. One of his hands clamped on your mouth while the other grabbed your waist and pushed you into the nearest alleyway.

The male pulled out a knife and your tears started to fall. You were terrified about what he would do to you. This could be the last time you would have seen your family. You were struggling and kicking against him but it was no use. Your senses were groggy from the alcohol and drowsiness.

You had been so stupid to walk home alone at 2 in the morning. No matter how angry you were, you should’ve just stayed at the town house.

Before you could realize what was happening, you felt a sharp pain shoot through your side.

The sound of a clatter.

Receding footsteps.

A crimson stain blooming.

Your body crumpled to the ground and your vision started blacked out. This was it. Nobody could hear you and nobody could save you.

#azriel x reader #acotar x reader #acotar #azriel #cassian #imagine #sarah j maas #azriel acotar x reader

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inkwingart · 4 years ago

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A revamp of my 2018 Met Gala Inej. Her stance resembles third position, but the angle of her feet is more relaxed. She has one hand over her heart, the other raised above her head with the palm turned outward. Both hands are lightly decorated with mehendi. Her dark, wavy hair is braided over her shoulder and falls to her hip. She wears a dark blue sleeveless cropped blouse with a high collar and matching pants that reach just past her knees. An iridescent gold and magenta floral pattern spreads across the entire blouse and reaches about halfway up from the hem of her pants. Her juttis are dark magenta with gold floral embroidery on the toes. On each wrist she wears a gold bangle attached to a translucent cape that fades from orange through magenta into rich purple, the edges resembling feathers and accented in gold. Behind her head is a dark blue circle. The gold scalloping around the edges resembles a halo. Her expression is serene.

Do not remove my caption, edit, or repost. Reblogs welcome.

I’m very happy with how this turned out. I feel like in the last year I’ve really found *my* style, both with fully rendered paintings and this “ink + color” aesthetic.

Anyway I’ve been sitting on this series for a while and mulling over how to redo it because I was so unsatisfied with the originals. I think this version better captures the theme while also being more true to myself and my interpretation of Inej.

#inej ghafa #six of crows #soc #grishaverse #inej #met gala crows #my art #fanart

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sleeplessangelsgame · 3 years ago

Note

Prompts: dressed and console for Cal pls? 💗

This turned in a different direction than I originally intended, but hopefully it isn’t too bad! ❤

Underneath the dazzling lights and reflections of the crystal chandelier, Cal was ethereal. The embroidery and jewels of their clothes glittered brilliantly, the deep maroon and purple fabric defining every edge of their body. Among the extravagance, Cal finally seemed to shine. Their smiles came easy as they danced with strangers as if they were old friends meeting after a lifetime.

As I watched them celebrate, I lingered on the edge of the party. I took tentative sips from my champagne flute to seem less suspicious, but even nursing the glass made me feel sick to my stomach.

Cal was leaving, and they seemed exhilarated about it. I had tried to hold out hope that we could salvage our relationship from its dying embers, but that hope crumbled and died when I noticed that Cal was wearing long sleeves. Underneath those sleeves were our entire lives together, designed by my own hands.

If Cal wanted me hidden away like I was their disgraced secret, then I would save myself the heartache and stay away. Avoiding the party itself had been impossible when everyone in the district was in attendance, and so there I was: miserable and alone in the shadow of the elegance.

Watching Cal nourished the festering hurt in the cradle of my ribs, so I took a glass of sangria from a passing waiter and settled at a nearly empty table tucked in the back.

“You look cheery,” the table’s lone occupant noted, her tone more lighthearted than the look of concern she gave me. Briar gestured to the dancefloor, where I knew Cal was dancing with a girl from our old graduating class, and I refused to look back. “Cal really ditched you for Abby Webster?”

“Abby Webster, who serves as a bloodlender in the Wayfare District,” I corrected. The bloodlenders made a killing in Wayfare for the more discreet vampires; I had only heard stories about the pulsing neon lights and dark delights of the inner city, but the glittering blood-red gown Abby was wearing on the dancefloor didn’t lie. The most dangerous creatures had the wealth, and Abby merely tasted it in exchange for signing her body away.

Like Cal had, now.

“She could be the Beast of Anselm, for all I care,” Briar said dryly. “The point is that… oh, no.”

Despite myself, I twisted to look over my shoulder and caught sight of Abby pulling Cal in for a fiery kiss, her hand cradling the back of their neck tenderly.

My heart plunged into the pit of my stomach. Briar said my name, her tone mournful on my behalf, but all I could see was Cal, their hand moving to clutch at Abby’s elbow. Not pushing her away, but holding her fast as they stood together in the middle of the dancefloor, kissing as if the world around them faded to nothing.

I stood fast, my chair scraping against the polished floor with an alarmed squeak. Cal yanked away from Abby, their gaze traveling to trace the sound…

… and I was already turning away. I pushed past Briar’s outstretched hand, ignoring her protests, and it only took a few muttered words for the crowd to thin around me, leading me right to the exit.

I burst through the doors with a bang, fighting the traitorous swell of tears in my throat. The lingering taste of champagne soured in the back of my mouth, bitter as poison. How many nights did I cry because Cal was leaving, and I thought they would miss me as much as I missed them? Too many, considering Cal had kissed Abby back.

I walked quickly through the hallway in a daze, my footsteps echoing on the tiles in aching loneliness. The walls still rattled with the muffled music and swell of conversation from the ballroom, but the sudden squeal of one of the double doors opening caught my attention.

Someone was coming, and I didn’t need them to see me crying like a child. I swiped a hand over my cheek, brushing away stray tears, and quickly ducked into the nearest bathroom. It was blissfully empty, so I leaned against the sink, my hands curling over the porcelain to steady myself. I lifted my face to check the mirror, dreading my reflection, just as the door swung open.

Panic lanced through my chest - I didn’t want to see anyone, not while I was in the throes of mourning - and then I recognized who it was.

My breath caught.

In the mirror, I saw Cal step in, looking determined before their expression relaxed at the sight of me at the sink.

“Are you okay?” They asked, relieved, crossing the room to meet me. “I saw you leave. Is it your sibling, or...”

Cal trailed off, their eyes meeting mine in the mirror. I couldn’t bear the thought of turning around and meeting them, face-to-face, but the shine of my eyes betrayed my distress.

“Hey,” Cal said softly, a hint of alarm bleeding through their tone. They frowned, stepping closer to reach for my arm, and I pulled out of reach. Cal’s hand froze mid-air, unsure, and they shot me a pained look through the mirror. “What’s the matter? Did someone say something to you?”

“Who would want to talk to me?” I said, my voice far more steady than my hands. “I’m not the one going to Wayfare and living lavishly.”

Cal’s brow furrowed. “What?”

I pulled my gaze from Cal’s, focusing on the sink I was still gripping, and forced my hands to relax. “Why are you even here, Cal?”

Why are you pretending like that kiss never happened? The words scorched the back of my mouth. As much as I wanted to blurt it out, I was also far too terrified of the answer. The kiss had already happened, regardless of how I felt. At the end of the night, it wasn’t going to be me living with them in the Wayfare District. If Cal wanted to kiss Abby every night like they used to do with me - and she seemed very willing - then what I said didn’t matter.

“You’re upset,” Cal said softly. They moved as if to come closer and I shook my head, silently denying it. Hurt fractured across their expression, but the numbness was seeping into my chest, killing any trace of sympathy. “I just wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

When I didn’t reply to that, still hovering over the sink, Cal added gently, “Also, I can’t leave before I have a dance with my favorite Manipulator.”

I closed my eyes. Abby wasn’t a Manipulator; she was human.

Cal’s fingers gently brushed against my shoulder, testing the waters, and when I didn’t pull away, they clutched my shoulder firmly, rubbing a comforting circle with their thumb. I opened my eyes and half-turned to catch their gaze. They looked worried with just a fluttering hint of hope.

A small smile graced their face as I turned around, their grip falling to clutch my elbow instead, and I took a moment to collect my words by adjusting the small crest pinned to the collar of their clothes. It was the outline of a bird taking flight, the feathers glittering in dazzling rubies in the overhead lights. It was a favor of Cal’s sponsor, and it was one more thing that divided us.

I rested a hand on their shoulder and firmly pushed them back. Cal half-stumbled, taken aback, surprise flashing across their face.

“Have fun in Wayfare,” I told them steadily. “Don’t bother writing a letter.”

Slack-jawed, Cal didn’t move as I brushed past them and escaped the bathroom, their lingering phantom touch scorching my skin.

#prompts #cal #honestly their route is a LOT of past mistakes and we LOVE that #its about GROWTH and TAKING CHANCES and COMPROMISE #anyway. i love them.

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sassycassie-s-writing · 3 years ago

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Winter Court Wedding

By: SassyShoulderAngel319

Fandom/Character(s): A Court of Thorns and Roses Series/Rhysand

Rating: PG/K+

Original Idea: This has been in my head for a few days and I had to get it out of my head so I could write other stuff XD

Notes: (Masterlist)(By Character)(About Me) 2,356 words... yup it ran away from me again. This one pretends Tamlin isn’t a terrible person so we get Rhys instead 😉 @itscheybaby

^^^^^

“Rhysand?” I called through the town house.

“Yes?” His voice was coming from the kitchen.

I went downstairs, holding the box I’d found in our room. “What’s this for?” I asked, indicating the heavy fur-lined black cloak with silver embroidery of the moon and stars up the sides.

“Can’t I give you a gift just because I want to?” His smirk was almost too casual for me to believe him.

“You know I prefer coats in Velaris,” I replied. “So there’s something going on.”

He sighed, wings drooping. “Alright. You caught me,” he muttered. “We’re going to the Winter Court.”

“What for?”

“Kallias and Vivane’s wedding.”

“Didn’t they get married like an hour after he got back from Under the Mountain?”

Rhysand folded his arms, tucking his wings against his back a little tighter. “Yes,” he said carefully, “but they’re hosting a formal reception for their court, as well as for the other High Lords. I’m sure Kallias doesn’t actually want to invite us, or any of the other High Lords for that matter, but Mor and Vivane are really good friends and I don’t think he wants to harm that relationship.”

“So Mor’s coming with us, then?”

“Unfortunately, no. She has to put out a fire in the Court of Nightmares.”

“Literal or figurative?”

“Figurative. Keir is pitching fits again.”

“Ah. Same old, same old, then.”

“Pretty much.”

I decided to change the subject.

“So, the cloak is to keep me warm in the Winter Court climate, I’m assuming.”

“Yes. Hopefully without damaging your dress. Sometimes your coats rumple the skirts. While we’re in Velaris—and anywhere in the Night Court that’s not the Court of Nightmares, really—I don’t mind. But you know what we look like to the other courts. The image we present.”

Wealthy, dangerous, ruthless, powerful Night Court High Fae. Immaculate and pristine. Never even a hair out of place. Always in control of every situation. The High Lord who always got what he wanted, his thunderstorm of a High Lady by his side. Nary a trace of the Illyrian half-breed with self-worth issues and the Autumn Court runaway who’d never belonged anywhere.

“I know,” I said.

Rhys approached me and pulled the cloak out of its small box. “Besides,” he said, slinging it around me, “it does look rather fetching on you.” He bent his head and pressed a kiss to my neck.

“Charmer,” I teased.

He laughed. “I could say the same about you.”

I wrapped my arms around him. “I missed you, while you were… gone.”

Even though he insisted he was fine, I still did my best not to mention Under the Mountain. The secrets he’d been forced to keep, the things he’d been forced to do to keep me and the rest of the Night Court safe. We talked about it when he needed to, and I would always be there for him, but I didn’t need to force the past forty-nine years on him.

Rhys put his arms around my waist under the cloak and buried his nose in my hair. “I missed you too.”

“So when do we leave for the Winter Court?”

He knew I was changing the subject away from what I didn’t want to bring up, but he let me. “Tomorrow. We may stay overnight, we may not.”

“Shame Mor’s not coming with.”

“Agreed. She’d love to see Viviane again.”

“We’ll find some way to reunite them. How about that?”

“I think it sounds delightful. We’ll put them in a sound-proof room so we don’t have to hear them squealing into the late hours of the night.” His sarcasm was not lost on me. I chuckled. We swayed in place for a bit. “Let’s go get prepared for tomorrow, darling,” he said.

“Okay,” I agreed.

—

I already miss the Northern mountains, I thought at Rhys, wrapping the beautiful new cloak tighter around me to suppress a shiver. Even they aren’t as cold as this.

He hid his amused smile with a lazy smirk, boredly surveying the Winter Court ice waste around us as the reindeer-pulled sleigh whisked over the snow. I agree, he thought back, but it’s not for very long.

The small tiara I’d chosen to accompany my gown was like I’d wrapped an icicle around my scalp. The metal of it practically frozen to my skin.

The sleigh turned a corner.

“By the Cauldron,” I breathed.

The palace was made of ice. It towered into the sky with sharp jags and icicle towers, hexagonal walls filtering sunlight from behind. White-furred bears patrolled the battlements alongside the soldiers. All of whom sported white hair and pale blue uniforms. Snow was falling, but there was only a scattering of clouds. The High Lord’s magic, then, probably.

It might be a good idea to close your jaw, Rhys advised, no sarcasm present. We have an image to maintain while we’re here.

Right, I thought.

The sleigh driver pulled us up to a half-circle drive of packed snow. At the apex of the half-circle were two massive doors to the palace, wide open to the deep blue gloom of indoors. After slowing to a stop, we gave the driver a curt but polite thank-you and swept out of the sleigh. I caught Rhys flicking a finger before offering me his arm. What magic did you just do? I thought at him.

Tipping the driver. It’s polite but I definitely don’t want to be seen doing it. Would ruin the monster reputation I’ve spent centuries building. An image accompanied his reply—of a cheeky wink. I sent him back nothing but laughter.

An attendant—a young “lesser” faerie female with skin the color, texture, and reflectiveness of powdered snow—guided us inside. It was a lot warmer within the ice-crafted walls than I would have expected. I almost wanted to remove my cloak. The attendant looked absolutely terrified of us. Rhys and I barely acknowledged she was there, both keeping impassive expressions on our faces. I wished I could reassure her that everything was alright—that we were friendly—but I knew why I couldn’t.

She led us up what technically counted as a spiral staircase—despite it being hexagonal and not perfectly circular—to a suite of rooms. “His Lordship hopes you will be comfortable here,” the attendant said.

“Thank you.” A curt dismissal from Rhys. She scampered away.

Once she was gone and the doors closed, both of us relaxed. “I hate acting like that,” I muttered.

“Me too. But every High Lord puts on a face,” Rhys said. “You remember Helion. He seems terribly prickly and temperamental in public but is quite amusing and kind in private.” Rhys sat on a white sofa embroidered with sky blue winter flora and a few snowflakes.

“I do remember Helion. I also remember wishing you’d given me a warning about it. I was ready to punch him for being so rude to you.”

Rhys winked at me. “That wouldn’t have been nearly as fun,” he replied. I rolled my eyes. “Well, love, there’s nothing to do but wait until the reception. We did arrive a little early.”

“Four hours is ‘a little’?” I joked.

All I got was a shrug. “I like making statements,” he replied casually. “I arrive when I wish and I don’t care about their scheduling. Usually I would prefer to show up late to make it seem like I really don’t care about whatever it is they’ve had the courage to invite me to, but sometimes it’s more fun to arrive much earlier than planned and make that everyone else’s problem.”

I laughed. “You do a good job of making your act seamless.”

“Centuries of practice, darling.” He lounged on the sofa but patted the seat next to him. I sat beside him. It was almost warm enough inside to remove my cloak, but not quite. Rhys’ body heat was helping make up the difference. “You look beautiful, by the way.”

I grinned. “Thanks. You’re quite stunning yourself.” Black jacket, immaculately embroidered in silver and gold, deep midnight blue shirt underneath buttoned all the way up to hide his tattoos, black slacks with a single ring of silver thread around the ankles. It had taken me an hour to convince him to wear a blue shirt instead of black. But it really brought out his eyes. Dimmed the blazing, powerful violet just enough to reveal that his irises were actually blue.

“I’m always stunning,” he replied.

I smacked him in the chest with the back of my hand. “Arrogant,” I accused.

He kissed me. “You like it though.”

I rolled my eyes.

—

The ballroom was enormous. Pillars of glimmering ice reflected faelight bobbing around the ceiling. It was lightly snowing inside. Winter Court High Fae and faeries milled around, talking, eating, drinking. A line extended away from the bride and groom. Well-wishers offering their congratulations.

Rhysand wasn’t going to bother waiting in the line. I knew that. We’d approach from behind or from the other side, offer our regards, and then leave.

But not immediately.

The ballroom was warm enough that I passed my cloak to a waiting attendant. My gown was so dark violet it was almost black. A bell-shaped skirt dotted with beads in the shape of stars swished over the ice floor, lightly dusted with snow. The gown’s sleeves barely capped my shoulders, but the long black satin gloves that ended two inches from the bottom of the sleeves helped keep my arms warm. The bandeau tiara had three dark amethysts glinting among the white diamonds.

The finery wasn’t terribly comfortable, but I knew the effect it had on others.

Rhys and I wandered the ballroom, mingling only occasionally—and only if the other party dared approach us first.

Including High Lord Tamlin of the Spring Court and his charming bride-to-be, Feyre Cursebreaker. Both of them looking happy and healthy and more in love than ever.

“Didn’t expect to see you here, Rhys,” Tamlin said begrudgingly. His eyes flicked over to me. I didn’t have to be daemati like Rhys to know what he was thinking. The whispers of the other faeries milling about followed me the moment we entered the room, and Tamlin was likely in agreement.

Freak. Unnatural. Witch. Lightning was not meant to be harnessed by magic like that. She doesn’t belong in any court.

I thought about snapping something at Tamlin, but Rhys cut in smoothly, “We could hardly miss an important function such as this, Tamlin.” He inclined his head at the female on Tamlin’s arm. “A pleasure to see you again, Feyre.”

“Wish I could say the same about you,” she replied dryly.

Rhys tsked, but didn’t say anything to her. “Enjoy the party,” he said to both of them instead before pulling me away. I waved at Feyre, letting an apology touch my expression. Her glare softened a moment and she lifted her fingers as though to wave back, but thought better of it.

I turned away. She’d saved Tamlin and freed the other High Lords and their courts from Amarantha. She gave Rhys back to me—and I couldn’t even give her the thanks she deserved. Electricity crackled in my veins. Rhys jolted slightly as I shocked him. No one else would have noticed.

Easy, he thought at me. What’s wrong?

I let him into an antechamber in my shields, to see what I thought and felt without having to explain. Thoughtful silence followed. We’ll find a way to let you thank her. For us both to thank her. She gave me back to you, too.

Thank you, I thought at him.

Of course. I felt a loving caress against my shields. I sent one in return.

Rhys took me through the crowd, occasionally offering greetings to the High Fae and faeries who didn’t cower as we passed. Rhys’s damper on his power had been loosened. Not released completely, but relaxed—allowing tendrils of darkness to drift from him like shafts of steam. It was an intimidation tactic. He did it a lot.

“Kallias. Viviane,” Rhys said as we approached the bride and groom. Both looked resplendent. Viviane in her simple but no doubt expensive gown that glittered like powdered snow under the moonlight. They turned to us. “Morrigan sends her regards and regrets that she couldn’t make it.” Those words were directed at Viviane. She smiled at the both of us. More warmly at me than at Rhys.

“Congratulations to you both,” I said with a genuine smile. “You deserve to be happy with one another.”

Kallias gave me a cold stare. Wondering where my calculating, ruthless High Lady mask was, no doubt. But I did want them to know that I was happy for them. That I was happy they’d found one another after Amarantha.

“Thank you,” Viviane said before Kallias could reply. She reached out and took my hand in both of hers. “And thank you for coming.”

“Wouldn’t miss it,” Rhys said smoothly, smirking slightly.

“We left our gift on the table with the others,” I said softly to Viviane.

She gave me a warm grin. “Thank you. Thank you, both.”

I returned the grin and Rhys bade a curt goodbye to Kallias before we retreated back into the crowd.

“Care to dance?” I asked.

“With you? Always.” He smiled at me. For a moment I forgot we were in another court. All I could think of was him. All I could see was those blazing eyes—that lazy smile. His warmth against me.

I didn’t realize I must have been showing that on my face because he leaned down and kissed me. “The rest of tonight is going to be so much fun,” he whispered suggestively, giving me that playful smirk he always had when he knew we were both going to get what we wanted from each other before the night was over.

A shiver that had nothing to do with the Winter Court chill travelled down my spine. Excitement. “Oh, I think it will be,” I replied.

#Winter Court Wedding #Rhysand #Rhysand Imagine #Rhysand FanFiction #ACOTAR #ACOTAR Imagine #ACOTAR FanFiction

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thran-duils · 3 years ago

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Nowhere to Run (P.2)

Title: Nowhere to Run (Part Two) Summary: Fem!Reader x Dark!Stony. Reader was caught unknowingly stealing from the capitol harvest and is drug to the capitol for punishment. She is offered an option to go to trial or accept work in the main government building. Upon her tour, she ends up in trouble and catches eyes of two of the Master Council that decide she needs to be broken in by their hands. Words: 6,130 Warnings (for this chapter): Non-con, servitude, forced orgasms, verbal and emotional abuse, double penetration, unprotected sex Author’s Notes: Definitely biting Mother Gothel vibes when Tony says, “No? Oh...” Also, sorry that this got so long but also not sorry.

Part One || Masterpost (mobile) || Fanfic masterpost

The courtyard between the villas was swathed in flowers and shrubbery. Despite how scared you were to be here, you came to a stop in the pathway, looking around in awe. This kind of garden was one you dreamed of to have and lay in, soaking up the sun. Your hands came up to your sheer hood of your robe to push it back — before leaving the Capitol you had been given a robe, a symbol of your assignment. It was white and embroidered with flowers and upon seeing the garden, you spotted the flower it was based off of. You had not seen it in any other part of the Capitol yet and surmised it was specifically here and therefore, the reason for the embroidery choice. It was deep blue, weaving in vines around the pillar. You reached out, rubbing one of the petals between your fingers gently.

Tsu snapped his fingers in your face, getting your attention once more.

“We don’t have a lot of time. The Masters are in a council meeting, and they’ll be expecting you to be settled in and starting your tasks by the time they return. Now I was told you will be assigned primarily to Master Rogers and Master Stark.” He leaned in close and hissed, “And please heed my warning: obey. They are not known to be forgiving.”

He looked serious and you nodded, “Noted.”

“I hope so. They won’t be lenient about back talk. Do not repeat what you did at the capitol building.”

Tsu turned on his heel and continued on, taking a path towards one of the villas. “This is Mr. Roger’s.”

It infuriated you that they all had such large houses just to themselves. Many around the country shared the houses with multiple families and they were nowhere near the size of these.

And being inside, you were even more upset seeing how lacking homeliness there was to the place. It was all marble flooring, minimalist, and cold, really. He gave you direction about the rooms, nodding in acknowledgment when you passed a couple of other servants. They nodded quickly back before moving on to continue their tasks. Your eyes lingered on the large, canopied bed in the master bedroom. Why someone needed that big of a bed just for themselves was beyond you. But the Capitol was greedy, and it was so because of the council members living above their actual needs.

Your mouth watered as you were led to the kitchen; dinner was being prepared and it smelled delicious. The cook himself was skinny and you wondered if he was ever rewarded with the fruits of his labor. You were to attend to the morning tasks specifically and the cook showed you where the coffee was — a delicacy that apparently Master Rogers enjoyed every morning — and where he would leave the prepped food for you to cook for breakfast. On top of preparing his outfit for the day to lay out and getting his toiletries ready for after his shower.

“Am I to do the same at Master Stark’s as well?” you asked Tsu, who nodded. “How can I be expected to be in two places at once? Who is first?”

“They will work that out amongst themselves and inform you. Come now, over to Master Stark’s. Apparently one of his maids has fallen… under the weather.” You furrowed your brow at the hesitance and Tsu leaned in, “We shan’t expect to see her for probably nine months.”

You felt bile swirling.

“It happens from time to time with the Master’s maids. Why, Master Wilson had one just last month.”

“Charming. I’m so glad that’s a common occurrence that no one bats an eye,” you muttered.

Tsu wagged his finger at you, “That’s that attitude I was talking about. I’m not going to be here to remind you to keep it reined in. You’re gonna have to do it yourself.”

Master Stark’s house was across the courtyard. His house was just as unwelcoming and darker in interior design. There were many sky lights, a huge one over his sunken living room. You stepped down, looking at the plush couch and the large flat screen mounted on the wall. Again, so much space for just one person. His bedroom was facing the forest with a bed as large as Master Roger’s and you walked along the windows, staring out as Tsu led you to show you the master bath. You stared at the shower, taking in the floating shower head above and the wooden bench along the wall. That must be relaxing.

“Servants quarters are downstairs. There’s some in every villa. I’m not sure which one you’ll be in but again, they’ll let you know.”

He was leading you back through the hall, pointing out an office and a library. You stuck your head inside the library curiously, your mouth falling open at the walls of books. Back home, you had the pleasure of a collection, but it was not even a quarter of this.

“Come on, Y/N. We don’t have a lot of—” he stopped hearing noise downstairs, the front door slamming it sounded like.

“Matilda!” A man bellowed.

“Shit. He’s back already,” Tsu hissed before grabbing your arm and pulling you out of the library.

Coming along the exposed hallway, you looked past the glass railing over the living room. A woman was in front of who you assumed was Master Stark. He was sneering at her already, “You forget yourself, Matilda. I told you to have my bath ran by the time I returned. Perhaps missing dinner will be in order for you.”

“I’m sorry, master,” she said looking nervous, her head bowed.

Master Stark was dark haired and handsome. He was dressed smartly in a fitted suit, you still able to make out the tautness of his body. The movement at the stairs caught his attention. He took his sunglasses off seeing the pair of you coming down the stairs.

“Master Stark,” Tsu greeted as you approached. He gave a curt bow, and you followed his lead.

Chestnut eyes followed your movement, and you did your best to avert your own gaze. You instead looked at the other woman, seeing the red in her cheeks at being berated.

“I was just showing Y/N around yours and Master Roger’s homes to get her acquainted.”

“Right. The new wench,” Master Stark remarked. You bristled at the term ‘wench’ and shot him an annoyed look. His lips twitched seeing your expression before you averted your gaze again, knowing you had let your temper get the better of you. “Leave us. I can take it from here.”

Tsu nodded and gave another bow. “Good day, Master Stark.”

He left without looking back and you suddenly felt vulnerable without him.

“Girl, come to me,” Master Stark said, snapping his fingers at you like you were a pet. To Matilda he ordered, “What are you still doing standing there, you idiot? Get upstairs and start my bath! Do you wish to miss breakfast as well?”

“No, sir,” she said shaking her head and turning to go up the stairs you had just come down hastily.

You closed the space between the two of you, standing a foot from him, your arms clasped in front of you.

“You were told you are to prepare my clothes and breakfast later in the morning than Steve’s?”

Steve must be Master Rogers.

“Yes, sort of,” you responded in a timid voice.

“Speak up. Muttering annoys the absolute fuck out of me.”

“Yes,” you rose your voice. “But I was unsure which house to be at first. Thank you for answering that for me. What time do you want me here, Master Stark?”

He sighed, “Steve is always up at the asscrack of dawn. Usually about five.” You held back at a grimace knowing you would need to be awake well before then yourself then. “I don’t usually get up until eight. That gives you a couple hours at least at his place beforehand. And you know, before this goes any further, let me see you. Strip.”

“Excuse me?” you asked mortified.

“Did I stutter?” Tony asked dryly. “Untie your dress.”

“No.”

Tony’s eyebrows rose, “‘No’?” He looked sinister, “Oh…”

“No, I mean you didn’t stutter,” you said quickly, trying to correct your misstep.

Amusement was still evident; he did not believe your lie. “Well, get to it then. As I’m sure you heard, I have a bath running and I would like it to be hot.”

Heat creeped up your neck as you reached up and untied the fabric at the back of your neck. He circled slowly, his fingers brushing at your side. You flinched away instinctively, and his hand latched tightly.

“Did I give you permission to move?”

“No,” you whispered.

“What did I tell you about speaking up? Are you daft?”

“No,” you said louder.

“Good girl,” he said, his hand loosening.

It was one thing to have him examining you like cattle at auction but touching you on top of that was humiliating on a whole new level.

His lecherous examination continued, his fingers following his circle he walked on your skin. He traced down from the nape of your neck to the curve of your ass. His fingers fluttered down and gave a squeeze. You sucked in your cheeks, tensing, but you did not say anything like you had at the Capitol. He held, as if he was waiting. When you stayed still, he made a hum of approval before he moved on.

Fingers ghosted along your shoulder. He was so close; you could feel his breath on you. He was frightening, his presence ominous. You fought to keep your eyes forward and not meet him. You had a feeling that would result in punishment.

He stepped away from you, his hand thankfully gone.

“You’ll do,” he said dismissively.

‘You’ll do’? That was more hurtful than outright telling you that you were not up to his standards. Or was he playing mind games?

“Dress yourself. Before you head over to Steve’s, go and straighten up my library. I had young Master Parker over earlier and he has a terrible fucking habit of not putting things back. I like authors by their last name. Don’t fuck it up, do you understand me?”

“Yes, sir.”

<><><>

You awoke at 4:30am and dragged yourself from your small cot. You took on the friendly advice given to you by the other servants to use the small glow stick like device to light your way without turning on the actual lights. There was no need to rouse Master Rogers from sleep before he awoke himself; that would piss him off.

Picking up your list that had been left by one of the head servants, you saw you were to pick out his outfit, sort his toiletries, mop the kitchen floor – where were those supplies? – prepare his coffee and breakfast, and lay out his newspaper for him. And wait for further instruction if there were to be any. The only order for his outfit was ‘casual’.

Master Rogers – Steve – was sleeping soundly still. You stared at his form for a few seconds, his muscular arms and chest that were exposed from his silk sheets. He was a large man, handsome too just like Master Stark, with a strong jaw. His blonde hair was splayed across his forehead from his tussling in the night. You were given little to no instruction for his clothing, and you went into his closet blind, holding up the small light you were holding. His room was shrouded in darkness from the curtains being pulled and you were grateful you had brought the light.

In his closet, you fetched a relaxed top and a soft cardigan with slacks. That was as casual as it was getting in his selection of clothes. You kept the hangers and brought them soundlessly out to his bathroom door, hanging them up. You went inside and began gathering the toiletries listed and separated them between the counter near the sink and his shower.

Down in the kitchen, you made first to find the mop and thankfully, it was in the pantry. It was fairly easy to mop the floor, that you were used to. But after that, you stared at the oven before clicking a button you thought was the correct one. It came to life. This was far more technological than you had dealt with, but you had to figure it out. You wished you had had more time with Tsu or the cook yesterday. It took you a moment to figure out where the skillets were, but you were able to get his bacon started and his eggs. His coffee was more difficult than you thought originally. He wanted a latte. You followed the instructions to make an espresso and then whisked the milk, pouring the espresso over it.

As if on cue, you placed the latte next to his plate on the counter as instructed next to his newspaper, and he walked in.

His eyes ran over you, and you gave him a curt bow as Tsu had done for Master Stark. “Good morning, Master Rogers.”

“We haven’t met,” he responded, coming over to his plate and grabbing his newspaper.

“Y/N, sir.”

“Hmm, right. I remember you.”

He remembered you from what?

“I’m to help you in the morning. I hope my outfit choice was appropriate.”

Steve looked down and shrugged half assedly. “It’s comfortable enough.”

Holding back your attitude, you asked, “Is there something I can do different in the future that will please you more?” His eyes flashed lasciviously, and you quickly added, “In regard to your outfit, I mean, sir. Just so I know what to choose.”

“I’m not sure I can teach a mountain girl anything about fashion on a whim. So, just watch the rest of the masters and the council members outfits. I don’t have the energy to try to explain it to you. I’m sure this long, halter gown is the fanciest thing you’ve worn and it’s merely a villa servant’s dress.”

How you wanted to knock him a good one for being so crass. It must have been evident in your expression because his eyes crinkled as he picked up a bite of his eggs, taking a bite.

“Did I strike a nerve?”

“No,” you blatantly lied. “How are your eggs, sir?”

“Fine, surprisingly. You made them quite fluffy.”

Steve’s hand moved in what seemed like a very deliberate movement, knocking his cup, and it fell to the floor. Ceramic shattered and his latte flooded around it.

You bit your cheeks to keep from screaming, staring at it. You had just cleaned the floor.

“Oops,” he said flatly, not sounding sorry at all. “Why did you place it so close to the edge?”

He was saying it like it was your fault. This pompous asshole. But you inhaled deeply.

“I’ll make you another one,” you told him calmly although you were screaming internally. He was not going to get a rise out of you that quickly and that easily. Tsu had warned you to obey and you were not going to risk being beaten or worse – time added to your sentence – over spilled coffee.

“Another one…?” He asked expectantly.

“Master Rogers,” you said stiffly.

You bent over and began picking up the shattered pieces first. Scooping them up you brought them over to the trash can and tossed them in.

Turning back around, you caught sight of him staring, his eyes focused on your hips before he met your gaze. He looked aroused and you knew he had been staring at your ass as you were bent over. Nonchalantly, he cleared his throat and looked back down at his newspaper.

You felt relief surprisingly when he said, “I’m sure Tony will be coming back from the land of the dead soon enough. You should hurry over there.”

<><><>

You cracked Tony’s door open and quietly slipped in. You saw two figures in the bed as you crept by towards his closet. You used the natural light coming in from the windows to guide yourself through the closet. He had said dark grey for his color scheme, so you did your best, matching the jacket, vest, and slacks but a white dress shirt. The socks and tie you chose were burgundy, a contrast. He had not asked for that, but you would see how that worked.

Quietly, you came back out of the closet and stilled when you saw someone slipping out of the bed. You recognized her in the light… Matilda. She stopped only for a moment, locking eyes with you before snatching her dress off the ground and bringing it up and tying it around her neck. She sneaked out of the room, more than likely going to start her chores. So, he forced someone he verbally abused to his bed.

Gently you walked over to the bathroom and hung up the clothes on the outside of the door. You moved inside and got together the materials the same you had for Steve and put the appropriate ones in the shower and by the sink.

When you emerged, Tony was stirring, and you moved quicker to get out of the room before he was fully awake.

But to no luck.

“Morning, little vixen.”

You stopped in your movement and turned back to face him, clasping your hands. “Good morning, Master Stark. I’m sorry if I woke you.”

His lips up ticked into a closed smile, “I’m sure it is time for me to be awake if I find my bed cold. Night is over and consequently the fun.” He threw the covers back and got back out of bed unabashedly of his naked form. Your eyes widened at his brazen behavior, all of him on display. You turned your head, avoiding looking at him and he chuckled. “You’ll get used to seeing this.”

Tony moved towards the door and eyed the suit choice. He shot you a look and said, “Look at that slight boldness of color. It’s subtle against the neutral but it’s nice. Good choice.”

He winked at you before going into the bathroom. You took that as permission to leave to start his breakfast.

<><><>

The whole first day you had put up with both of their antics. They were trying your patience and it was getting to you. You had never crossed two more pretentious men and they were so insulting to their staff. Steve had called you “pigheaded” for placing his newspaper on the right instead of the left of his plate this morning and you wanted to just tear it up in front of him.

You were currently in Tony’s office waiting instruction. There had been a task after breakfast to clean his office and before you started, you wanted more direction, so you did not make a mistake.

He walked in finding you still standing still, and he asked, “You know, to clean, you need to actually be moving?”

“My instructions said to dust but I was not sure what I should touch and not touch, Master Stark. I was waiting for you to give me direction so—”

He cut you off, “When it says dust, just dust. But, you know, I’m actually glad you waited so you’ll be in here longer.” He stalked over to his desk and opened one of his drawers, pulling out a box. He unwrapped it and you watched him pull out a pair of lace, barely there panties. Your heart clenched – he surely did not mean to give those to you? He placed a small device into the crotch of them and held them out to you.

“What’s that?” you asked slowly, not moving.

“I like some entertainment while I work,” Tony commented. “Put them on. They’ll be a snug fit, right up against what I’m sure is a beautiful pussy.” You stared back at him, and Tony returned a challenging look. “Are we going to have a problem?”

At loss for words, you stammered, “I… for what?”

“A problem ‘for what’? Yeah, that’s exactly what my question is. There should not be a problem when I tell you to do something directly. Come over here and fetch them and put them on,” Tony ordered you impatiently. “Before I lose my temper.”

As if you were moving against your own will, your legs moved forward, and you came to the desk. You reached up underneath your gown, his eyes raking over your exposed bare legs. Yanking down your underwear, you tossed them to the side by the desk and took the underwear from him. Hunger was swimming in his eyes, and you swallowed sharply. He was right; they were snug, the protruding part right up against your bud.

He clicked a button on the small remote and the underwear turned on. You grimaced your teeth as you felt the vibration, if only for a few moments.

Tony looked elated at the expression on your face. “Sweetheart, if you can dust everything here without coming, I’ll be so proud.” He leaned forward and winked, “But I’m going to make you work for it. Our work meetings are so boring, and I enjoy watching you women fighting against an orgasm.”

You hated this. You were to clean his office and he was going to be brushing your cunt with his toy.

He picked up the glass by his desk and opened the mini fridge, pulling out the ice cubes. He clunked some into his glass and poured some water over the top of it. Settling back into his chair he eyed you, waiting.

Swallowing your pride, you turned from him and began at the far end at the stacked bookcases. You shuddered as the panties worked at your clit, longer this time. He did not hit the button at regular intervals, so it caught you off guard every time. You would be holding a porcelain figurine and clench it, hoping to God you would not drop it. You were bound to break something the closer you got to coming undone. He was continuing on with his virtual meeting as if nothing untoward was happening to you. You bent to grab a book that had fallen off the shelf and he hit it again. You snapped back up and exhaled sharply, clenched as it vibrated relentlessly against you. You gave the book a quick brush over before placing it back on the shelf. You took a step and he hit it again.

Having had enough, you turned around and hissed, “You’re distracting me. How am I to work, Master Stark?”

He muted his microphone on his computer and blocked his camera before turning in his chair towards you. You saw the bulge in his pants and that only served to make you more upset with the situation. How much he was getting off on this was unbearable.

“That’s kind of the point of this. But, really, you’re distracting me, little vixen. With your hips and those soft sighs leaving your mouth every time I press the toy. It’s very beguiling,” Tony argued, relaxing back in his chair. You heard the ice clinking in his drink as he brought it to his lips. “And I’ll distract you however much I want to. Don’t you forget that. Get back to work. Now.”

He clicked his microphone and camera back on, resuming his meeting. His fingers were tapping the remote that was lying on the desk, teasingly. Pissed, you turned back.

It buzzed again only moments later, and you clenched, squeezing your thighs together as you brushed the bookcase.

“Ah ah. Naughty girl. Let me in,” Tony intoned, and you loosened. He took the opportunity and hit you again with stimulation.

You let out a frustrated noise and threw the duster onto the ground.

“Fuck this!” you exclaimed.

Tony hit the hide and mute on his computer quickly at your outburst, caught off guard. You got a small satisfaction out of that in the heat of the moment that you had thrown him off his game.

He turned towards you again, looking furious. That did nothing to throw water on your temper. You hastily tore the underwear off and threw them in his general direction. Tony’s eyes followed the descent of them to land at his black oxfords. “Send me back! I’ll take on an extra month — six even if I can just be back in the capitol building! This is torture!”

Tony drug his gaze from the panties back to you. His elbow was still resting on the arm of the chair.

Chest heaving, you watched him and slowly felt the dread creeping in. His eyes were hard, and you remembered who exactly you were dealing with. He had all the power in this relationship, and you had just lost your temper with him, outright disobeying something you had been ordered to do. And you may have embarrassed him in front of other Capitol council members in your outburst.

Tony stood from the chair and stalked over to you, peering down his nose at you. His voice was dangerously low when he said, “Go up to my bedroom and wait there for Steve and I. On the bed. Naked.”

Naked? You gulped.

Even you knew better than to argue with him with that scathing glare. You slunk away and you felt his glare burning into the back of your head as you closed the office door behind you.

<><><>

Curled in on yourself, you waited. It seemed to drag on forever, the waiting. You just wanted them to come up and belt you and get it over with.

When the door opened, you dared to raise your gaze, finding the both of them coming in. Their jackets, vests, and ties were gone. The top buttons of their dress shirts were undone, apparently have relaxed before this. Tony must have called Steve to his office and relayed to him what had transpired between the two of you.

You were doing your best to try to keep your breasts hidden, your legs crossed to hide yourself as well.

Tony came to a stop in front of you and he held out two fingers, pulling your chin up to force you to look at him directly. His stare was cold.

“You really pissed me off earlier,” he informed you point blank.

“I’m sorry, sir.”

“I’m sure you are now. At the time, I know you meant every little ounce of venom you spat at me. And that I won’t abide. And neither will Steve. What goes on in one villa, goes on in the other. You will be well behaved in both.” When you did not say anything, his hand came to clench your jaw and you winced as he forced your mouth open as he mocked in a higher pitched voice, “’Yes, master. I understand’.”

“Yes, master, I understand,” you repeated, wincing against his tight grip.

“And we’ll make sure that sticks. We are in charge here,” Tony told you, letting go of your face and going to work on the rest of his buttons.

You had hardly noticed Steve had undressed himself to his briefs. You had been so focused on Tony’s imperious presence before you.

Steve was holding the panties you had thrown at Tony earlier. You felt sick as he told you, “Let me put these on you and don’t make it difficult.”

No. They were not going to beat you like you feared. They were going to do worse. Matilda came to mind being in Tony’s bed when you knew that was the last place she would have wanted to be and your eyes shot to the door before landing back on Steve who was coming close now.

Freeing himself from his boxers, Steve’s hand ran up and down his length. You cowered back, crawling back on the bed, tucking your feet to come onto your knees. You did not want to be in here. He smirked seeing your fight or flight kick in.

“Sweetpea, you know that’s not an option. Come back.” You tensed, shooting another quick look at the door. Steve’s expression melted from amusement to annoyance. “Now.”

You unfolded slowly, coming back to the end of the bed, your heart hammering. You had had sex before, but it had only been with the boy next door, the one you had thought once that you would marry before you had been brought here. Not like this. Sitting on the edge of the bed, you sat still as you could to let him slide them up and you allowed him to pull them all the way up. You spotted Tony still had the remote, a wicked grin on his face.

Steve was jutting out towards you, and you stared down at his length.

“Your hand,” Steve told you. “Wet it with your mouth.” You shakily did as he asked and he ordered, “More spit.” You did that as well. “Touch me.”

You felt humiliated but you did what he asked. He was thick and your hand slid up and down his length, wetting him with your spit. He moaned softly, his hips moving ever so slightly as you continued to stroke him off. The underwear vibrated and unlike before, they were not turning off. Tony was not giving you any reprieve. You tried to adjust so the movement was not directly on your bud but no matter what you tried, it was right there, and some angles made it worse, causing you to shiver at the direct contact. You caught Tony’s eyes and he was watching with heightened arousal, his erection evident in his slacks.

Steve was leaking precum in no time and you were short of breath with the stimulation on your cunt. You had shot a look at Tony finding him naked now, working himself up at the scene before him. You were getting the panties so wet and you wondered if that was going to affect the toy.

It reached a moment when Steve had had enough of just your hand. He stopped your movement and tossed your hand aside. You leaned back as he towered, his hands snatching at the sides of the panties and yanking them down your legs roughly, tossing them aside. You barely had time to react before he was picking you up in a fluid motion. You yelped at the airborne movement as he dragged you onto the bed with him. Steve laid down and pulled you in top of him, your hands planted by his head. His cock slid in with ease to your wet pussy, his lips sucking at your breasts.

The bed dipped with Tony’s added weight, and you heard him adjusting in between Steve’s legs, his hard cock brushing up against your tight ring. You realized fully what he was aiming for when his thumb met your ass and it was cold, covered in lube. You felt him squeeze some into you.

Having their way with you in your pussy was one thing but this was something else entirely, especially since Steve was already inside you. You had never had anal sex, let alone two men in you at once. This was their punishment.

Desperately, you begged, “Please don’t!”

Steve’s laugh was cruel. “‘Please don’t?’ Me? I’m not doing anything, darling. I’m just sitting here. Fully...seated... inside your tight cunt just enjoying it.”

You tried to look over your shoulder at Tony, “Master—"

But Steve grabbed your face and forced you to look back at him. “Relax…. Relax….” he breathed encouragingly. “You don’t want it to really hurt do you?”

There was no time for you to answer him as Tony started pressing in. It burned and you cried out. Steve was whispering in your ear to encourage you to relax, telling you to be a good girl. You choked on a cry, tears stinging as Tony continued to sink into your ass. You were so full.

“Aw, she’s crying, Tony.”

Tony sloppily kissed your temple, his hand tight on your throat. “Don’t cry, sweetheart. You’re doing so well! Taking it like the little whore we knew you are. Take your punishment… you’ll be loving it in no time.”

He pulled out slowly before pushing back in, keeping a slow steady pace. You breathed, trying to focus on the way it was subsiding to pleasure. You sniffled, hanging your head as he continued using you, Steve still waiting inside. You were sure their cocks were brushing each other in that thin membrane.

“Well-behaved now too. Just gotta fill her with cock to train her. Make her needy,” Steve rasped. “Tell us how much you like it, you little slut.”

It was an order. And you were just a rag doll between them right now; what other choice did you have but to comply?

You could not lie to yourself either, you were being stimulated to a whole new level.

“I love it,” you breathed shakily, a sharp whine escaping as you felt them both rocking in and out. They had a rhythm going, like they had done this before.

Steve continued with his dirty talk, “You want it? You wanna be fucked?”

“Yes, I want it. I wanna be fucked.”

Tony groaned at your declaration, slapping across your ass as you rocked between them. The reverberation sent a tremor through you, further stimulating you.

Steve bit roughly at your nipple and you yelped. His breath was hot as he growled, “You wanna be used like a perfect doll. Right? You wanna behave? Because if you don’t we won’t finish.”

Every nerve was on fire, and you were losing yourself to the feeling. No, they had to finish.

You nodded fervently, “I wanna behave. I wanna behave.”

“You know how lucky you are to be filled? What women would beg to be in your spot? You should be thanking us!”

“Thank you for filling me up,” you cried as Steve buried himself roughly. The shame of your pleading and groveling was overshadowed by every brush of their cocks inside you, pushing you towards the edge to come tumbling down.

They were working you like the doll Steve promised you were going to be. Your breath was short, and you were beginning to shake on your arms.

You heard Tony groan, “There you go, there you go. Fuck!”

“I got her Tony,” Steve grunted, holding you tight as broken cries left you. “I’ll hold you, sweetheart.” You trusted him in your delirious state and collapsed against him as your body gave way. You shouted, stuffing a fist into your mouth. Steve yanked your hand away and you cried out. “Let us hear what we’ve done to you, you naughty girl.”

Steve held you in place as Tony sped up, thrusting quick. You continued moaning with the heat tearing through you.

“You’re gonna take every fucking drop,” Tony husked. “Perfect little cumslut!”

He groaned animalistically, his cum emptying into your ass. You sighed relieved and buried your face into Steve’s collarbone. Tony slid out and you whined pathetically feeling him spill out onto your thighs.

“Almost done, doll. You’re taking your punishment perfectly, shaping up so well,” Steve kissed along the side of your face. “Tony, you did nothing to help me stalling myself with those hard thrusts of yours. Felt every rib of your dick, you bastard.” You heard Tony chuckling as Steve resumed his own thrusts. You whined, so sensitive but he whispered sweet nothings into your ear, and he was finishing soon, spilling his seed into your aching pussy. He gave a few more lazy thrusts before he picked you up and rolled over to drop you onto the bed.

You laid there exhausted, bare in the center of the bed, staring at the ceiling, trying to catch your breath.

Steve was pleased. “I love that gaped, cum filled look. Especially on her.”

They sounded a million miles away, you still drowning in what had just happened.

Tony came into your sights, and you turned your head towards him, exhaustion in your bones. “Gather yourself and then come join me in the shower. I’ll give you that before you come back out here and strip my bed to clean the sheets. Can’t keep you off your duties for too long, can we? I won’t be giving you special treatment no matter how well that perfect ass of yours just milked me.”

He turned before stopping and then he added, “By the way, I will not be sending you back to the Capitol building. If we have our say, you won’t be going home any time soon.”

~~~

Marvel tags: @coconutqueen21 @undecidedsworld @holl2712 @agustdowney @biiskuitx

#steve rogers x reader #tony stark x reader #dark tony stark #dark steve rogers #dark marvel #my shit

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smallblip · 4 years ago

Text

So lonely trying to be yours

Jeankasa | rated for sex (well, halfway there at least)

Happens somewhere between Mouth open you’re high and Come down when you’re ready. (aka the coming undone after Eren tells Mikasa he hates her)

It’s on Ao3! https://archiveofourown.org/works/30253896

Hate is a strong word. Mikasa hates sun showers, she hates the mugginess of it. Mikasa hates celery. She hates how their new gear is so unseasoned it cuts into skin.

And as she stands in the middle of Jean’s room, she figures she hates herself too.

But hate is a strong word and she wants nothing more than to be seen.

Nothing more than to pick at the blisters on her skin, where she had been scalded by the person she loves the most in this world. But she finds other ways to salve the itch.

“Mikasa what-“

But before Jean can continue, she’s shrugging off her jacket and her trousers. Painfully slow, painfully deliberate. Like she’s putting on a show. She had seen the girls do this from the balconies in the unspoken parts of town, waving their handkerchiefs at the soldiers who pass below. A flash of a breast here, the exposing of a thigh. The softest of flesh hidden beneath exquisite dresses.

Sometimes they wave at her too, casting a spell on her, come soldier, you can rest here, tell us all your secrets, and we’ll teach you all we know of pleasure. And Mikasa always averts her gaze, tucks her chin in her scarf, a blush creeping at the tips of her ears.

Mikasa thinks maybe this is the way to be seen. This is the way to be beautiful. And oh she would give anything to be seen.

She unbuttons her shirt, watching as Jean stares at her, completely bewitched. And she almost feels guilty that she has this effect on him. That she has this power over him only a woman could wield- only a lover could wield. But it’s only a ghost of a thought. She pulls at her scarf and it pools around her, red like amaryllises blooming at her feet. An ode to the blood she has spilled for the people she has come to love. Her fingers skim down her neck and she’s picking at the bindings around her chest, unravelling them until it’s easier to breathe again. A flash of a breast, then another. Painfully slow, not once breaking gaze from Jean in case she loses him. In case he walks by her balcony into the arms of another girl. Another girl to tell his secrets to, to enjoy one night on this wretched earth with. But he’s watching her, mouth slightly agape, still trying to find the right words to say, and Mikasa wants him to kiss her until she forgets her own name. She steps out of her underwear.

“Mikasa what-“

“I want you to look at me Jean...” She says, more of a whisper than a command. She fights against the instinct to cover up. But she thinks she can at least pass as soft under the forgiving glow of candlelight, and she needs to be seen- as a woman, a beautiful little thing, a lover. Oh to be seen, to be something to behold, to exist.

And Jean looks at her, perplexed, he approaches her slowly, not quite sure what to make of this situation. He wants to know how she had been hurt. But all he can do is to take all the sadness Mikasa has and swallow it until it rests heavy in his stomach. Until they are but two bodies with no secrets between them.

“I’ve always...” Jean starts, but he has to avert his gaze. Something like annoyance bubbles in his chest. How can she not know this. Did she not notice. All this time. But he decides to put it in words, clear as day-

“I’ve always... Looked at you...” he breathes, closing the distance between them. Oh to be told you matter amongst the other grand things in this world that matter. To be told it has always been this way. The boy who has always had eyes for this one girl. The handsome soldier who stops by her balcony, sure as the sun, he looks only to her. I’m here, I exist. Mikasa feels a lump forming in her throat.

Words can wait, she thinks, come now soldier, we’ll drain the pleasure from one another until we are but two bodies with too many secrets between us.

And she kisses him.

Sharp edges, sadness leaking from her like rain. Like kindling in fire, one thing leads to another, and Jean is pressed against the wall. Mikasa is strong, but it’s not like Jean’s going anywhere. His hands glide up the sides of her body, over to her back where he rubs circles into her skin. Too gentle. Her sweet, gentle boy. But all she wants is for him to ruin her. To dig his nails into her flesh, to leave bruises for everyone to see. She hears the things said about her, little voices carried by the wind. Greedy, gluttonous girl. She’s fucking with him even though she doesn’t love him. Whore. Harlot. And the poor fool who trails after her.

And Mikasa wants to scream at the voices. It’s not true. Love comes in a form she doesn’t yet have the capacity to comprehend. Oh but she loves him.

Part of her wants him to tell her sweet nothings like he always does. To tell her she’s worthy, that she exists purely because he sees her, because he wants her. But the thought sits like bile burning at the back of her throat. She wants to throw up. Because she knows she doesn’t deserve him. So she lets the other part of her reign. The part that wants him to hurt her, call her names, echo the voices in her head, tell her she’s nothing. That he’s always, well- that he has always-

hated her.

She wants to bask in this feeling a little longer, a creature living in the depths of the woods, in a hollowed out tree, feeding off hate until her softness becomes amber. She grabs his hand and slides his fingers through her hair. Pull. And he does, he tugs at her hair, but only to pull her impossibly closer. She feels between his legs, engorged under his trousers. Jean groans into the kiss. And Mikasa swallows it up selfishly. She unbuckles his trousers only to get at what she wants, and then she’s kneeling in front of him, taking him into her mouth. And this is what good girls do. This is what she’s been doing all her life. To be on her knees, to take it, take everything into her until she’s bursting at the seams. But what’s wrong with a life of servitude, of being on her knees when Jean is making the most delicious sounds, saying her name in a way that ignites something in her like kindling.

He pulls her up into another kiss, leaning down so he can lick the roof of her mouth clean, and Jean tastes himself on her tongue, salt of the earth; sweet like roses.

“You’re so good for me...” Jean says. And Mikasa is nodding furiously. That’s all she wants. That’s all she ever wants to be. And she doesn’t notice the tears until he flinches.

“Mikasa... Hey... Stop...” he says, holding her by her shoulders.

Her eyes fly open. And in that split second, her mind thinks up the cruelest things against her- look what you’ve done.

He buttons up his trousers and she stumbles back. The spell she had cast over him has been broken, she thinks. But Jean follows after her, a wait slipping past his lips. And she does, waiting with baited breath. He’s stroking at her cheek again, catching the tears that are falling. Thumbs stroking gently at the corners of her eyes.

“Hey... What’s wrong...” he asks, like he’s comforting a child, but he isn’t really expecting any answers. And the tears pick up a steady flow, down to her chin. She wipes at her face with the back of her hands. She hates this. More than celery in her stew, more than humidity. She hates herself for being so weak.

He reaches out to tuck her hair behind her ear, and she leans into the touch. What a gentle brush of calloused fingers against her cheek. Her sweet, gentle boy.

Hers.

He tilts her chin up so she meets his gaze, wait, it comes more as a whisper than a command. She watches him curiously as he fishes through his cupboard. He retrieves a grey shirt. She spots her embroidery in white thread at the hem. His name in cursive so Connie would stop taking his laundry by accident.

“Here...” he smiles. Jean holds the shirt out in front of her expectantly, and past her own confusion, Mikasa puts one tentative arm through the sleeves, then another. He shifts her to face him again and he does her buttons up painfully slow. Her sweet gentle boy. And Mikasa hears the loud thudding of her own heart by her ears, and there’s that familiar aching. This moment is suddenly far too intimate to bear. She feels the tips of her ears burning.

His shirt falls mid-way down her thighs, and she feels small again as he stands back to examine his work. “There you are...” he says. And his heart flips unceremoniously, seeing her in his clothes, casual like it’s the morning after and she has stayed the night, and they’ve spoken about everything there is to speak about. The clouds, the rain, the new gear that cuts into skin like a bitch.

He guides her to the bed wordlessly, patting the spot beside him to get her to lie down. And she does, hands clasped atop her belly, looking at him, still sniffling and slightly taken aback. Jean sighs with a chuckle, “c‘mere...” he says, like all the problems in the world are but specks of dust floating in the darkness. And she does as she’s told, arms wrapped around herself as she curls her knees into her chest, pressing her forehead against his chest so he wouldn’t see her miserable face.

“Jean...” Mikasa says, voice intentionally muffled down the front of his shirt, where her fingers have now come to grasp. He hums a reply, toeing at her shin in an attempt to get her to tangle her legs with his.

She sighs, stretching out her legs to join him in this little dance. “Do you hate me?”

“I could never...” he says quickly. And Jean has always been like this. Eager to please, eager to reassure. And although he has mellowed over the years, Mikasa still sees glimmers of it. Then a more thoughtful, “did he say that to you?”

She only buries her face further into his chest, fingers digging into his shirt, the fabric balled up in her fists.

“I should’ve been there... Would’ve fucking had a go at him...” Jean mutters. His hands clenching into fists against her hip. He relaxes immediately when he feels her tensing underneath him.

“I’m sorry...”

“What about?” He tilts her chin up so her eyes meet his. Even now she finds other things to look at. Specks of dust. Cracks in the walls.

You... she wants to say, my poor, gentle boy, my poor sweet boy.

“I’ve been so selfish...”

There’s a thumb on her cheek. So gentle it feels like rain. Mikasa hates herself, but she figures there’s a quiet beauty in sun showers. The promise of rainbows. He traces over her scar, the one that never quite went away. The one she finds Jean kissing every now and then. The one she has never admitted to caring about.

And she wants to hear it from him. That he thinks she’s the most selfish person to exist. For greed, for gluttony, for wanting too many things- the boy she has given her life to, and the boy she doesn’t dare dream of a life with.

But they’ve had too many conversations about him, and Jean just wants her now. He’s just a soldier who has wandered too far into the powdered boudoir of his dream girl. She had waved at him with a handkerchief embroidered with little red flowers, and a smile so sad it makes him ache. The girl who holds his head in her chest after every battle, threading her fingers through his hair and telling him everything is going to be fine. The sun is going to peek through the rain clouds soon, everything will be fine. The girl who looks to him for assurance. The girl he looks to for that spark of confidence. The girl who embroiders little red flowers on the cuffs of his shirts. The girl who reaches her hands out so tentatively into the world, eyes full of wonder, fingers grasping apprehensively. But she’s always so sad, this girl of his.

So he holds her head against his chest now, “everything will be fine...” he whispers. And he feels the tension leave her body in waves.

“Sleep... You must be exhausted...”

“I can’t...” she pouts and Jean can’t help the chuckle that slips past his lips.

“What do you mean?” He teases, “look. You close your eyes, even out your breathing, think of one thing that makes you happy, and Bob’s your uncle!”

Mikasa ponders this for a moment, brows creasing, she looks up at him.

“I never really knew my uncle but I think my father had a brother named Thomas...”

“Ah...” Jean laughs, nothing condescending. Just- laughter, “that’s just a figure of speech... It’s like ‘and there you have it!’... Something along those lines...”

“Oh!” Mikasa answers, bashful, “like the dogs with the leather shoes? The cobbled shoes?” They play footsie under the sheets mindlessly and somewhere along the way, they’ve started holding hands.

“Yeah... ‘Enough to cobble dogs with’...” Jean chuckles.

“Sorry... I’m not good at these things...”

“Don’t worry about it... It’s not something to be good at... I just know because an uncle of mine loved using them, it was his thing...”

There’s a glint of playfulness in Mikasa’s eyes, a flash as quick as lightning, “your uncle Bob?”

Jean’s eyes widen momentarily, a spark of realisation setting off a boisterous laughter that fills the room.

“Silly...” Jean breathes. He taps the tip of Mikasa’s nose with a finger and she finds herself giggling. What a strange sound it is, weaving in and out of the laughter that’s still spilling from Jean’s chest. And she feels pride swelling in her ribs. She’s the cause of this cacophony.

It’s quiet for a while before Jean breaks the silence-

“Hey...” he says, absentmindedly, gently, “none of this is your fault... You know him... He’s just a dumbass... He probably doesn’t even know what he’s saying...”

Jean sighs. Good no more arguing. No more him being a jerk telling her that they’re not all willing to die because of him. No more teetering on the brink of calling one another ugly names. No more shouting. Just-

Two bodies with a shared understanding between them. A single atmosphere built from years of friction. The air is good here.

Mikasa shifts herself onto the pillow to face him, she offers a smile, one that reaches her eyes. She threads her fingers through his hair like he’s the one in need of comfort. She will ask him in the morning if she can braid it for him. He wraps his arms around her protectively.

“You know... I kind of miss him... The way things were...” Jean chuckles. He wouldn’t mind Eren throwing a few punches his way if it meant they could be children again, fighting over nothing, getting at each other’s throats just because. Watching in awe as his own jealousy rears it’s ugly head.

“Me too...” she smiles, thinking of the times she has had to pry one angry boy from another.

But the air is good here and sleep comes easier.

Mikasa closes her eyes and evens her breathing to the steady thrum of Jean’s heartbeat. And she thinks about Jean- a sliver sunshine through the thick mist of rain. Her sweet, gentle boy.

Hers.

#jeankasa #jean kirstein #mikasa ackerman #jeankasa fanfic #jean kirschtein #mine #my fic #jean x mikasa

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laurore-stormwitch · 4 years ago

Text

It’s almost impossible to write anything that it’s not angs for these two. but i had this funny triumvirate interaction in my head for a while so here it is, i put it directly after my previous fic “we will fight for you”. hope you like this soft/funny take too!

blissful mornings - AO3

___________________________________________________________

Nikolai opened his eyes slowly, catching back his consciousness with each blink; he took a breath as things went into focus, dimly aware of his surroundings. Blue walls painted like waves of a storm-swept sea, lit up by the first rays of sun casting away the night. It was almost dawn, by the reddish and golden light outside the windows. He made to turn on his side, but realized he was curled around someone. The scent of wildflowers clouded him.

Zoya. He was in Zoya’s room. In Zoya’s rumpled sheets, to be precise.

It took a moment for the events of the previous night to crowd his mind, scrambling his thoughts. Another itching breath made his way out of his lungs as he tried to steady the frantic beating of his heart, shaken by the sheer enormity of what happened. His arm was resting on Zoya’s waist, still asleep at his side, warm and peaceful. She was laying with her back to him: he watched her chest slowly go up and down with each breath, the curve of her neck still so close to his lips, black hair grazing his cheeks. He pulled her tighter in an instinct, burying his nose on her skin lightly, feeling as if he wanted to drown in her, that this dream would vanish if he let her go. She trembled at his touch, stirring in the covers, slowly awakening. Zoya turned on her back with a sigh, leaning her head slightly towards him. Her eyelids fluttered open as she drifted out of sleep.

“You move too much in your sleep, Nikolai.”

She mumbled, slightly annoyed, closing her eyes again. Nikolai smiled against her neck, brushing his lips on her ear, skimming on her arm with his fingers. He felt her all over him, inside him, everywhere. Nikolai knew he was never going to have enough of this, of her. Never was he going to have enough of his name escaping her slightly parted lips with that lethal softness.

“I thought you were an early riser. All the pre-dawn trek to the Grand Palace ought to have given you some routine.”

Zoya huffed, moving on her side and prompting herself up on one arm, stretching her back. She tossed her hair over one shoulder. Nikolai looked at her in awe; he felt the air being snatched out of his lungs. The only coherent thought he managed to grasp was that this was most definitely going to be his undoing.

He had grown used to see Zoya in her blue kefta uniform. They spent so much time together in the past years that she had become a familiar gaze, something that sounded like home. Even when he met her, her beauty was not the first thing he noticed. Not that he was going to deny being struck by her appearance, but not in the way every other man seemed to be. Nikolai had been way more fascinated about the persona she built around herself, the way she gracefully conducted herself with other people, walking through the palace as if she owned every single wall of it, always ready, always sharp. So her beauty kind of went in the background. And he made a point not be distracted by it, to get adjusted to the sight of her in the silk kefta.

The first time he saw her in a gown, well, that had been challenging, to say the least. It wasn’t a common sight: Zoya liked to always play the general, even at official events. Which meant she usually kept her kefta, maybe more elaborate ones, with precious embroidery and jewels. The first time she resorted to a gown was the winter fete they threw on the first year of Nikolai’s reign. He had to admit that when she walked inside the ballroom it took him a while more than usual to regain himself. She looked every inch like a queen, in a floor-length dress that hugged every curve of her body, her neck bare and her hair tied up in an elaborate updo. That had been a tiring night, forcing himself not to stare. And that was something he definitely didn’t get used to: he just learned to hide his reactions and manage to act like he wasn’t struck by her un-earthly attire every time they threw a ball.

But this moment. This what was bound to take him to his knees.

Because Zoya now didn’t look like a queen, like a general, or even like a saint. She looked like a girl; granted, the dreamiest girl he could ever lay eyes, but still a girl, and that almost brought him to tears. She could’ve been taken from a painting: as she brought herself up, the waves of her hair moved like a waterfall on her shoulders, delicately brushing the scars on her back as she tilted her head up towards the sunrise. Her bare skin was glowing, scarcely covered by the sleeveless nightgown she wore, wrinkled around her body, silver like the moonlight and the beads he picked up every now and then and kept in his pockets. And when she opened her eyes and turned to him, Nikolai swore his heart stopped in its track. Zoya cast him a look that was utterly unguarded, in a disarming way he thought he was never going to see her. In a way he never knew her. Her eyes were pools of a deep ocean, calm and serene. They were alive with a light both tender and passionate; he could see the steel that forged her in that light, the fire inside her. A faint smile tugged her lips as she locked those impossibly clear eyes with his. She is happy, he realized with a bolt of crushing desire and warmth. He had seen her laugh before, he had seen her smile, but not like this. This was pure, untouched, sincere.

Nikolai knew with an unwavering certainty that he could have spent a thousand lifetimes fighting just to see this look on her again. That this was the Zoya that loved fiercely and moved mountains and let her soul be seen. Love is the only thing worth waging a war for, Ehri told him. She wasn’t that far from the truth. This, this was the thing for which he would face the Fjerdans, the Shu, whoever came their way. This was the thing he searched for all his troubled life, all the times he had wanted more. More life, more love, more adventure, more excitement, more safety and trust. He found it in her.

It lasted for a moment, not more. In a slip instant, Zoya seemed to catch herself back again, her look hardening just what was necessary. But for Nikolai, it was enough. Enough to know he was lost, that Zoya was not only the tether he gripped to relinquish the demon, but the very thread that tied him to reality.

“Why are you staring at me?”

He smiled, catching her wrist and pulling her down on the pillows. She made no move to protest as he circled his arms around her, combing her tangled hair through his fingers.

“You’re less ruthless in the morning, Nazyalensky.”

She rolled her eyes and brought her hand at the base of his neck, releasing a breath. Her voice was a bit shaky. Everything about this was so completely overwhelming, he realized, for the both of them. Her eyes darkened as she delicately brushed the back of his head.

“Did I hurt you last night?” He gave a brief shook and held her closer.

“Not at all. Besides, I kind of deserved it. I’m awfully obnoxious when I put my mind to it.”

“Did Nikolai Lantsov just admit he’s insufferable?”

“I can be at times. But I’d take a small concussion for a night with you all over again.”

She flinched a little. He knew it was soon to joke about this, but he also knew he needed to be the one to make her believe in him, and in them. He needed to deserve her, and he had an unshakable resolve to do it. As good as he was with words, declarations seemed to only bring her uneasiness. So instead of talking her out of her mind, he did the next best thing he could think of and drew her in a for a kiss. It was soft and delicate, nothing like the hunger and the despair with which they explored each other the first time. Zoya leaned in without resistance and he felt her tension decrease. When he sensed her relax, he drew away an inch, both breathless.

“That’s not playing fair.”

“Never said I would.” She exhaled, placing another kiss on his lips and giving him a firm look.

“You should go back, Nikolai, the sun is almost up. Tolya and Tamar are going to kill you, if they don’t already believe someone kidnapped you.”

There was no sharpness in her voice; Zoya was matter of factly, ever the general with a care on the fact that besides being Nikolai, he was the King too. He relished in her speaking to him so gently; still, he didn’t have the slightest will to get up from this bed and leave her. The thought of his guards didn’t cross his mind, but she was right. Nikolai didn’t tell them where he was going last night when he stormed out of his room, and he never got back. The twins probably spent hours looking for him. He groaned.

“They are going to kill me.”

She smiled, shaking her head. It was an insecure smile, almost as if she was trying to get used to down her walls a bit around him. He had half a mind to find a practical way to make her give up on her resolve, but as if they could read their thoughts, someone knocked lightly on the door in that instant. They heard Tamar clear her throat, much to Nikolai’s disappointment.

“Zoya? Are you awake?”

Zoya widened her eyes pulling herself up abruptly. Nikolai tried to hold her back by her waist, but she shot him an intimidating glare, keeping her voice steady.

“Yes, Tamar. Is everything alright?”

“We can’t find Nikolai. Is he…uhm, have you seen him by chance?”

This time, it was Zoya who groaned, untangling herself from Nikolai’s arms. She got up quickly, searching frantically for her kefta while tumbling towards the door. She stilled in front of it, turning to Nikolai, still lazily spread on her sheets perfectly at ease, dropping her voice to a worried whisper.

“What do we do?”

Nikolai smirked. She was going to hate this. And he was about to have an even more delightful morning than it had already been. He pulled himself up, cleared his throat too and raised his tone.

“I’m here, Tamar. We’ll be out in a second.” He answered to his guard. Zoya glared at him.

“Seems I am the one who’s going to commit regicide after all.” Hissed Zoya, casting him a look that clearly conveyed how serious her threat was. She tossed him his shirt, buttoning her rumpled kefta. “Put something on before I struck you with a lightning.”

They didn’t look remotely presentable, and Zoya was in a panic. A delightful morning indeed. She smoothed her clothes and tried to fix her hair in a desperate attempt before opening the door to her sitting room where the twins were waiting for them. They were nowhere near preoccupied, which left Nikolai with the suspicion they had known exactly where he had been the whole time. Tolya was sitting in a chair skimming through a poetry book, while Tamar was perched on the table flexing her axes. When they emerged, she waved a mischievous grin at them.

“Oh, there you are. We brought you some tea.”

Nikolai leaned on the wall, glancing briefly at Zoya at his side. She crossed her arms with an unnerved look. Where her cheeks turning a different shade of pink? Was Zoya Nazyalensky blushing? His mood improved even more.

“I’m sorry if I worried you. I didn’t mean to have you search the whole palace for me.”

“It’s our duty, Your Highness. What matters is that you’re safe.” Replied Tolya respectfully, giving Nikolai a nod. Tamar, on the other hand, didn’t have her brother gift for propriety.

“Oh, please.” She outright laughed in their faces, jumping down from the table and pinning her weapons on her side. “Like we’ve actually run all night to find you. We came straight here. And the guards said you dismissed them, so it was not that hard to put two and two together.”

“Well, I guess that’s why you’re the head of my intelligence.”

Nikolai couldn’t stop himself and winked at her. He heard Zoya made an exasperate sound beside him. At this rate, she was going to unleash a storm on their friends too. While he was caught up with the fact that they knew about the two of them, she was still fortified in her conviction that she had been perfectly subtle. He leaned closer, discreetly brushing a hand on her back to keep her calm, giving her a reassuring look. As she caught his eyes, he saw her shoulders beginning to ease, and everything would have gone smoothly if at that precise moment the door wouldn’t have slammed open again. Genya stomped in the room with David trotting absentmindedly behind her, head buried in some documents.

“Zoya! I hope you are up we have so…”

As her gaze turned upward, she fell silent and stopped in the middle of the room, shooting them a confused look. David almost stumbled on her, blinked twice and then immediately gave up on understanding what was happening. He slumped in a chair, while Genya’s attention travelled from the twins and lingered on Nikolai and Zoya, on their messy appearance and Nikolai’s hand still gently laid on Zoya’s lower back. She widened her amber eye, and Nikolai saw how she hardly contained herself from giggling. Nikolai grinned; Zoya seemed to realize how much they were giving away and batted his hand.

“So, are we having a party here that I didn’t know about this early in the morning?”

Genya was digging for her own grave, apparently. Nikolai was about to try and salvage the situation, but Tamar was quicker.

“Well, if there’s a party those two are the only ones having fun.”

This time, Nikolai shot her a warning look. He heard the air crackle lightly; Zoya was not inclined to mockery as much as him, and the flashes of last night breakdown were still nitid. But their friends were not going to let the occasion slip after all these months. And to be honest, he was indeed having a lot of fun. Worst comes worst it was their turn for being swept by a gust of wind. Genya had a smug look on her face, clearly immensely satisfied by how things were turning out. She turned to Tamar, opening her hand towards her.

“Pay up. It seems I have won.”

“Did you bet on me?”

Zoya’s high-pitched voice interrupted them. Nikolai was extremely amused. If he knew there was a bet going around, he would’ve probably weighed in too.

“Not just us!” Protested Genya, equally outraged, as if this was bound to make it sound better. “Don’t get angry at me. Nadia was on this too. And Tolya didn’t want to bet but he still pitched in his support!” She accused, pointing her finger at the giant.

“I don’t play money on other people’s lives. That doesn’t mean I’m not a keen observer and I can’t help others win.” The twin excused himself, prompting his hands up.

David emerged from his papers looking at Nikolai with resignation. “I’m sorry, Your Highness, but you know I don’t interfere with these things.”

“That means I lost to Nadia too!” Tamar whined.

A thunder rolled over the room, making them startle and effectively silencing all of them. They turned to Zoya, who stood with her palms open upside, electricity sparking from her skin, and a threatening smile on her face.

“So, that shut you up.” She said with a delighted tone. She put her hands together behind her back, straightening her spine and drawing the power away. “Now, if Genya is done ridiculing my personal life, can we go on with the business of the day?”

“You’re so prickly, Zoya. Always killing the entertainment.” Genya scoffed at her after a moment of surprise. She glanced and Nikolai: she was practically beaming with contentment. They all took a sit; Genya poured tea from the samovar while Tolya peered in David’s work and Tamar opened some maps. They purposefully turned their backs on Nikolai and Zoya, leaving them a moment to collect themselves. Nikolai chuckled and tried to stiffen a laughter with a poorly executed cough. Zoya’s gaze snapped to him so fast he thought he heard the bone crack.

“If you let out so much as a whisper about how you are enjoying this, I’m going to burn you alive.”

Despite the snarky words, her eyes were lit up with affection. The image of her half-dressed and unguarded flooded his mind. Nikolai waved a glowing smile at her and curled a hand on her cheek. She exhaled a long breath, leaning to his touch and closing her eyes. Having Zoya so trusting in his hands was intoxicating; every time she did this, it was like coming back to life, and it made his breath itch and his heart ache with joy. Knowing she would break his arm if he’d done a more prominent sign of affection, he only grazed his thumb on her lips, already yearning to be alone with her. Would this pull towards her he felt ever diminish? His skin was on fire where he touched her, and he barely kept himself restrained.

“What do you say we leave our friends alive for now? And keep the rest for later?”

She cast her eyes heavenward but returned the smile and squeezed his hand briefly.

“Fine. Let’s drive this saint forsaken country out of the mud.”

The determined looks of the general and the ruler slipped back into their places, the fire and the steel rumbling in her eyes. He gestured her to take her seat beside him, looking at a room full of the people he cared for the most; he knew how fragile this peace was. That the Fjerdans were waiting for them with an army, that they had their worst nightmare chained up in a cell in the palace. That he still needed to figure things out with Zoya, be sure of his alliance with Ehri. But all those things seemed like nothing, right now. Because he also knew that with them at his side, they could survive. That the memory of the first morning sun grazing Zoya’s bare back would give him the strength to defy each and every one of his enemies. He put his hands on the table and turned to his friends with a cocky grin on his face.

“So, who do we get to fight today?”

#zoya nazyalensky #nikolai lantsov #zoya and nikolai #zoyalai #nikolai duology #rule of wolves #king of scars #post kos #triumvirate interactions are my life #genya safin #david kostyk #tamar and tolya #i don't know what this is #tell me the triumvirate doesn't have a bet going on i dare you #fan fiction #my writing #i posted it but it disappeared don't know why #bad at tags

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lastwagontrainhopper · 3 years ago

Text

A guiding hand

Royai week day 2 - Serene (let’s collectively ignore how late I am posting this ok thaaaanks)

Summary: “She expected Roy to follow up with a flirty comment or joke; that was usually how this type of conversation went. Instead, after a moment, he let out a sight. When he spoke again, his voice had a melancholic tone to it.

"That right there is the one sight that I really miss. ” ”

---

The Colonel and his Lieutenant share a late-night conversation. (Blind!Roy)

Words: 2489

Tags: Blind Roy Mustang, Fluff and Angst, Late Night Conversations, Established Relationship, Canon Compliant

read on aot

“They had left their windows wide open, letting in a soft breeze to relieve them from the heavy summer heat. The curtains were rising and falling without a sound, fluttering in the air like ghosts. Even the streets around the house were quiet at that hour; the only thing that broke the stillness of the night was Riza's voice.

"As for Senator Harn's wife, she was wearing a very elegant apricot-colored dress. With her signature high hairdo, of course.”

Their blankets had long been kicked away to the bottom of the bed in a messy pile. Roy was lying on his back, facing to the ceiling, one hand playing idly with a lock of Riza's hair.

"Apricot?" His eyebrows furrowed slightly. "That's the yellow with a touch of pink, right?”

"That was pretty much it, yes." Riza was lying on her side, her head against her hand, elbow propped up on the pillow. The room was covered in shadows, but the flickering lights from the window on the street allowed her to see the outline of Roy's face.

"And you said Harn had a royal blue jacket...That must have made for an odd contrast.”

Riza smirked. "Yes, that's what several people seemed to think. It looked as if the General and his wife had not consulted with one another before coming to the gala.”

A sly smile spread across Roy’s face. "Ha! And you just know the rumors about their marriage are already flying high. It's sort of ironic, considering how Harn is constantly babbling to the Parliament about the “traditional family” and the “sanctity of marriage” and whatnot." His hand came to lightly circle Riza's wrist, his thumb tapping the back of her hand. "I’m sure you now understand how crucial fashion is in Central. It's not just a matter of taste: it's inherently political.”

"Sure," she answered, unconvinced. "Anyway. The Harns didn't capture the guests' attention that long, since the buffet was brought shortly after.”

Roy hummed appreciated. "And that was a good one. I've rarely tasted crab this delicious.”

"Yes, and they must have put as much effort into the presentation as in the cooking, because the set-up was magnificent. Everything was served on glittering silver plates, which reflected the glow of the chandeliers. On each table, the dishes were arranged in a sort of pyramid, culminating with the piece of meat or seafood. It looked extremely fragile, like...like some sort of house of cards, or crystal architecture, defying gravity - but they all stood the evening without crashing down. It was breathtaking.”

This had become the most constant part of their day. Almost every night, as they lay in bed before going to sleep, Riza would describe to Roy a long list of the things he hadn’t been able to see during the day. When they had first started this habit, as they were working on the the reconstruction of Ishval, Riza's descriptions had been much more pragmatic, like a mission report: which building seemed in need of repair? Which tribal leader looked unsatisfied during their morning meeting? She did her best to give him this information as the day went by, but there were always important details that she missed.

As the years had passed and the two had distanced themselves from the military, Riza's description had slowly become more lyrical. She began to tell him about beautiful sights that he was missing – a particularly colorful sunset, or the way the city lights looked at night. As time went by, she started to enjoy these conversations and more more, and they became increasingly long. It got to the point where, as Riza saw something pretty during the day, she found herself immediately thinking of the way she would describe it to Roy later at night.

"You should try to write a book," he had told her once. "You're so good at this - I can picture in my mind everything that you're telling me about like I was seeing it."

"It wouldn't be the same," she had answered, shaking her head. "I like hearing your reactions."

He had arched his eyebrows, smirking. "And yet you scold me every time I interrupt you.”

"Stop being overdramatic,” she had retorted. “Now let me continue." They had left it at that.

Sometimes Riza would rest her head on his chest as she went on with her stories. This was what Roy preferred. Ever since losing his eyesight, he had grown much fonder of physical contact, even casual, with her - after all, it was the surest way he could know that she was by his side. But Riza liked to remain slightly further, just next to him, so that she would be able to observe him during their late-night conversation. His face would take on such a special expression at those times, almost peaceful, or...serene.

Serene. That would have been the last word anyone would have chosen to describe Roy under normal circumstances. Despite his reputation as a slacker, he was a man that was constantly busy thinking about one thing or another, pondering, planning his next ploy – or his next date with a certain Lieutenant. His eyes in particular had always betrayed the constant working of his mind: they were restless, always darting around the room to study the people they were talking to, noticing details in their postures, noting suspicious movements out of the corner of his eye.

And, Riza knew it well, even the moments of rest didn’t bring Roy much serenity. More often than not, his sleep was plagued by violent nightmares that would wake him screaming in the middle of the night - or at least, that tensed and distorted his expression as he slept.

This had not changed since the Promised Day. But since Roy’s fight in the underground of Central, his blind eyes had lost their piercing look and had taken on a milky appearance. In the first few weeks, Riza had hated meeting that blank stare - it reminded her too much of what his eyes used to look like, as well as symbolizing her failure as a bodyguard.

But eventually, she had come to see a certain beauty in them, and in the calmness they brought to Roy's expression. He was still as expressive as ever, with his trademark crooked smile and taunting eyebrows. But in the evening, when they were alone together, his face truly relaxed. As Riza described the day's events to him, he would focus entirely on her voice, letting his mind recreate the image she was painting. His eyebrows would loosen and his forehead became smooth, free of its usual furrow; his mouth would fall half-open. At this particular moment, Roy took on a serene expression that Riza had never seen on him before, and she never got tired of looking at it.

"I need to tell you, unfortunately," Riza broke the silence that had settled, "that you were not the best-dressed man at the reception.”

Roy propped himself up on his elbows, frowning with surprise. So much for serenity.

"What? Who was?”

“You’re not going to be happy about this,” Riza said, trying to hide the small smile in her voice. "But Colonel Birks made quite an impression. He wore a rather daring suit, made of a black fabric from which red velvet patterns stood out.”

Roy huffed with indignation. "Velvet! Nonsense. He obviously can’t stop pushing the boundaries of extravagance – and of bad taste.”

"I don't know," Riza said evasively. “I thought it was pretty elegant…and I wasn't the only one.”

Roy ran a hand through his hair, ruffling it. "Outdressing the president should be considered insubordination," he muttered under his breath. "I'll call Ms. Zhao tomorrow. I need something more avant-garde for the next gala. Maybe with some silk mixed in with a cotton suit?”

He lay down again on the bed and raised his arm, inviting her to come closer. Riza moved to nestle up against him, putting her head on his shoulder, a hand on his chest. Roy wrapped an arm around her waist and buried his nose in her hair. Whenever he did that, his breaths would tickle Riza's neck, making her giggle; she would always pretend to be annoyed but it, but they both knew better.

After a moment, Roy tucked some of her hair away from her face. He brought his lips close to her ear. "Tell me again what you were wearing."

Riza felt a shiver go down her spine. That deep voice that Roy used when he whispered always got a reaction out of her, no matter what cliché or silly thing he would say.

A wry smile crossed her lips. "At this point, you know my wardrobe better than I do, Roy. ”

"I know," he answered, unabashed. "But I like hearing you describe it."

Riza chuckled. “Well,” she began, “I was wearing the flowy emerald green skirt that Rebecca got me for Christmas, a brown leather belt, and my white blouse. The one with the embroidery on the collar. ”

He hummed in appreciation. "With your golden high heels, I'm guessing."

"With my golden high heels," she nodded, "because even though my feet are killing by the end of the night when I wear them, they do really go well with that skirt." Her hand started to play with the ring that Roy wore as a necklace. "I didn't put much makeup on because of how humid the weather was. But I did wear my bright red lipstick."

She felt his cheeky smile even before he spoke. "I can recognize it by taste, now."

If they weren’t pressed so close together, she would have dug her elbow into his ribs. She rolled her eyes instead. "I also had my gold bracelet to go with the shoes, and the earrings you bought me to complete it all. What else...my hair was in a bun, and, of course, I had my necklace."

She expected Roy to follow up with a flirty comment or a joke; that was usually how this type of conversation went. Instead, after a moment, he let out a sight. When he spoke, his voice had a melancholic tone to it.

"That right there is the one sight that I really miss. ”

Riza felt her smile drop. A lump appeared in her throat. Roy rarely complained about his blindness; even in the months following the Promised Day, he had adapted to his new lifestyle with impressive resilience. At first, it seemed as if his disability had affected his Lieutenant, plagued by guilt, more than himself. Still, Riza knew that he must have carried a lot of silent regrets through the years. There was so much Roy had had to give up, so many compromises he had had to reluctantly accept on his plan to reform Amestris – and on his personal life.

Riza disentangled herself gently from his grasp and straighten up, half sitting, to observe him. One of his arms was folded under his head, and he still seemed to be looking at the ceiling - but of course, that was just an impression. She ran a hand through his hair, brushing them away from his face. He smiled slightly at her touch, but she didn't need to see the pupils of his eyes to know that his heart wasn't in it.

She didn't like seeing him like this. With thoses cloudy eyes, melancholy turned his serene expression into a confused one - like he was a child that got lost and couldn't look for his way home.

Riza laid down again and rested her head on the pillow, her face turned toward Roy. She started to gently stroke his arm. "At least, you can keep in your mind the image of what I – and you – looked like in the prime of our youth," she said after a moment in a playful tone, trying to comfort him. "You won't need to see us get all old and wrinkled.”

To her surprise, Roy's face saddened further.

"Don't say that. Beautiful women are like fine wine, they only get better with age - that's what Chris used to say. I always wanted to see how you would look as you grew old.”

Riza raised her eyebrow, surprised. "Really?" she answered in spite of herself.

He nodded. "Not everyone ages gracefully, of course. But I know that wrinkles would look flattering on you; you have such elegant features. And silvery hair never fails to give this distinguished look - at least on women," he added, running a hand through his hair, suddenly self-conscious. His eyebrows furrowed. "Do I already have grey hair?"

Riza felt her shoulders relax. "You're almost completely bald by now, Roy."

He winced. "Please don't joke with that. I don't know what I would do if this were to happen.

Riza simply smiled, and they fell back into a comfortable silence. She watched Roy’s chest rise and fall with his breathing, lulled by the calm rhythm.

"You know, I always wished I could see you grow old, also because it would have meant that we made it."

Riza felt her breath catch in her throat.

She reached up and placed her hand on his cheek, hoping her touch could tell him what her words couldn’t.

“We did make it, Roy.” Now of all time, she wished he could see her face.

"I know," he said. He took her hand and brought it to his lips, pressing a light kiss against her knuckles. "I know."

Riza propped herself up on her elbow. She close her fingers around his, and squeezed firmly.

"Listen. We'll just do like with everything else. When my hair turns grey, I'll describe it to you. And as for the wrinkles," she placed his hand on her face, "you can see that for yourself."

Roy made a small smile. For the first time, he turned to face her, placing the tip of his fingers on both sides of her face. That was something he never tired of doing. Before he had lost his sight, he had always been able to read her like a book, understanding the meaning behind even the most subtle of her facial expressions. Now, he could do it in a much more literal sense, by tracing the surface of her body, reading the lines on her skin as if they were words written in braille.

"And when my face is so wrinkled it's unrecognizable,” she continued, "you will know the story behind each one of them.” She injected a smile into her voice. “The ones I already have on my forehead, for example, come from the stress of having spent so many years asking you to do your paperwork.”

His fingers brushed her forehead, and he smiled, abashed. "And you're all the more beautiful for it, my dear." He reached toward her and, guided by his hands, placed a light kiss on her head. “I can’t wait to see the rest.” ”

#royaiweek21 #royai #blind roy #fma #fanfic

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myreygn · 4 years ago

Text

Intimacy

thanks for your patience with me @ticklishfrog and i hope this piece can make up for the wait! this is a post for @ticklishraspberries femslashfeburary fic exchange and i’m a little late but alas, at least it’s here now!

prompt: Margaery is getting a new gown fitted, and can't stop giggling. Sansa asks her about it and finds out she's ticklish. (i changed the asking part a bit, i hope that’s not ruining it for you ^^’)

wordcount: 2188

~~~~~

“M-Marge, stop it!”, Sansa blushed like crazy and tried to shove the insatiable lips away from her neck, but the brunette was relentless. Her hands wrapped around the younger one's waist and pulled her closer, lips still at her neck, making her shiver. “Marge! Not now!”

“Why not?” Margaery rested her chin on Sansa's breasts and looked up at her with big, shimmering brown eyes. “Am I not allowed to kiss my beloved when I want to? What kind of world is this?”

“That kind where you're engaged to a king who's just waiting for me to give him a reason to kill me and who'll get one pretty soon if the tailors walk in on us being intimate with each other.”

Margaery sighed and shuffled away a bit. “Fair point. Let me at least brush your hair. I don't think Joffrey can punish you for beauty care.” She grabbed a hair brush, then positioned behind Sansa.

The red head showed one of those rare, soft smiles that her brothers used to drag out of her by inappropriately fooling around and that were now an expression only Margaery got to see, and leaned back into the light contact of the hair brush. Being with Margaery was exciting and relaxing at the same time. She had learned to love the little smirks the about-to-be-queen threw her way, had learned to close her eyes around her and to fully indulge in her touches, to trust her enough to let her do things with her body she hadn't imagined someone doing since Sandor Clegane had saved her from the men who had tried to rape her. But Margaery was different. Margaery was sweet and gentle and never did anything to make Sansa uncomfortable. Margaery was simply everything she had wished for in Joffrey and she felt blessed by the Seven to have her here in King's Landing.

A careful knock on the door made Sansa flinch and almost immediately she felt Margaery's hand on her shoulder, reassuring and calming. She relaxed against the brunette's chest for a moment. “You're so good to me”, she whispered and breathed in Margaery's scent. “I just wish I could give something back to you.” Margaery chuckled. “You're here, aren't you? That's really all I need.”

It knocked again, louder this time, and they heard a woman's voice asking from the other side of the door: “My lady? Are you in there? The tailors are here.” Margaery stood up. “Let them in!”

She was already only wearing her underwear, welcoming the tailors with a wide smile. “Good morning, come in! I hope you don't mind Lady Sansa joining us?”

Said Lady Sansa gave the servants a gentle nod when they bowed and claimed how happy they were to have her here with the king's fiancee and she knew they were telling the truth; who wouldn't happily take the opportunity to spend time with the scandalous northern traitor-daughter?

But Margaery did not seem to be willing to throw her beloved to the wolves just like that. Chatting and joking she kept the tailors' attention focused on her, showing interest in the draperies they used and complimenting their skills, praising the results and asking them, who made which one of her favorite dresses she had in the closet. An hour passed by, another and the tailors seemed to have fully forgotten about Sansa, Margaery's kind smile and her sweet words and how stunning she looked, even in just the draperies. From time to time she smiled at Sansa and the redhead had never felt so safe and happy since she had left the North. Margaery was here. Margaery would look out for her.

The dress was beautiful. And even though Sansa felt amazement at the sight of all the unfinished, yet dazzling outfit, she couldn't help but being immensely relieved that it wasn't her who would have to wear it. No, it was Margaery and Sansa felt sorry immediately – how could she be so egoistic to be happy about the marriage? Not that she was really happy, of course she would've rather had Margaery all to herself, but it felt good to know that Joffrey wouldn't have her like that.

“Something like that”, the first tailor, a man named Rusko with a harsh bravosian accent, said and plucked at the high collar. “We'll probably make this more round”, his hands wandered down to the light silk lying on the lady's shoulders, “and maybe we'll just leave that out, it's distracting. And here –”, his hand gave Margaery's waist a light squeeze and he was cut off by a giggle. He looked up to her confused, but she waved his gaze off with twitching lips. “It's nothing, please continue.”

Rusko did as asked, explained how they'd change the dress, how loose or tight it would be in certain areas and where the embroidery would go, constantly accompanied by giggles and twitches from Margaery. She seemed to quiet literally tremble under the careful touches and while the tailors clearly ignored it, Sansa's thoughts wandered to the memories she had from a long time ago.

Robb pressing Jon to the ground and squeezing his ribs rapidly until the bastard was crying with laughter. Jon, Arya and Bran ganging up on Robb, making him scream through the whole castle. Robb and Jon tickling Arya and Bran to make them listen to them. Bran and Robb carefully tickling Rickon to cheer him up. Sansa herself had never been part of their little games; Arya had tried to include her once but had gotten screamed at by Septa Mordane who had been convinced that this would be no appropriate behavior for a lady. Sansa had always enjoyed watching her siblings from afar though. A smile parted her lips.

It took the tailors another hour until everything was sorted out and they grabbed their stuff to leave, not without looking at Sansa, disappointed – understandable, they practically threw away their shot to squeeze out the biggest scandal in all of Kings Landing. Margaery had done a good job distracting them from it and came now over to Sansa as soon as they were alone again. “Everything alright?”

Instead of an answer, Sansa stood up and reached for Margaery who quirked an eyebrow – it wasn't very alike for the Stark girl to seek physical contact in such an open way, but who was she to refuse to hug her beloved? A happy grin spread across her lips as the king's fiancee literally hopped into the open arms, pulled Sansa over to the bed and let herself fall on it, pulling the younger one with her. They shuffled around a bit until everything was comfortable, then Sansa sat on Margaery's hips and smirked down at her.

The about-to-be-queen folded her arms behind her head and grinned. “I like where this is going!”

“Oh do you?”, Sansa asked softly, laying her hands on Margaery's sides and stroking up and down over the thin dress. She waited until the brunette had fully relaxed into the touch, then she gave her unprotected torso a few rapid squeezes.

Margaery's eyes literally bulged out of her head and she quickly darted down to grab the attacking hands. “Wha-AH! Sansa! Naha ah!” She squirmed, bucking her hips, but Sansa's seat was steady.

“What is it, Marge?” More squeezes, dragging a few chuckles out of the other girl. “Are you hurt? Wait, let me check for bruises.” She began to poke up an down Margaery's sides and all over her tummy. “Where does it hurt the most? Here? Or here? Marge, you need to talk to me!”

Sansa smiled, noticing Margaery's surprise because of the unusual behavior as well as her hands still grabbing Sansa's wrists but not pushing her away – also she hadn't said Stop once yet! The Stark girl wasn't really sure how to read that, but at least she had by now figured out why she was behaving so strange herself: Margaery always comforted and took care of her and Sansa remembered tickling to be something fun – this was her chance to reward her beloved! Now, back to the hands...

“So it doesn't hurt, hm? It must be tickling then – are you ticklish, Marge?” The brunette shot her a glance through the laughter and flushed cheeks, clearly saying something like 'Well, what do you think?!'. Sansa nodded slowly and allowed herself another smirk, making Margaery blush even more. “I see. And say, do you like it? I'm just asking because you're not trying to stop me.”

“I-I doho!”, Margaery gasped and Sansa raised an eyebrow, surprised – she knew that Robb had always liked it too, but she also remembered how long it had taken Jon and Theon to make him admit that every time. But alright, Robb wasn't Margaery and Highgarden seemed to have its very own policy with intimacy anyways.

“I see. So you don't mind if I do this, do you?” Sansa grabbed her prey's hips and began to massage deep circles with her thumbs into the prominent bones, a technique she had seen Arya using to Jon and with Margaery it appeared to work just as well. The brunette shrieked and bubbly laughter escaped her lips. “Ahanaha Sahahansaa! Ihit tihickles!”

“Yes, you know, that's kind of the point, Marge”, the Stark girl proclaimed sweetly, letting her hands explore more of her beloved's beautiful body. Said beloved giggled breathy. “Buhut I dohNAHA SEHEVEN HELLSAHAH!”

Sansa almost took her hands off – almost. She hadn't expected this kind of reaction from the usually so calm and collected lady but fine, nothing to be bothered by.

“Oh? Your thighs, hm? Is this a good spot?” She continued to squeeze the soft flesh, making Margaery shriek and weakly kick her legs. A tear rolled down her reddened cheek. “Pleahaese!”

“Please what?”, Sansa imitated a phrase that Theon had often used on Robb and Jon. Now she had to pay attention – if Margaery told her to stop, it would be serious since she had refused to say it yet, but if she just repeated herself, Sansa could continue. That's what she had observed in her siblings' tickle fights and Margaery seemed to enjoy herself, so Sansa didn't by all means want to do something wrong and make her uncomfortable.

It appeared she didn't have to worry about it; neither did Margaery say Stop nor did she begin to cry like Bran did once. On the contrary, she squirmed into the touch rather than away from it, making Sansa smile and doubling her efforts. After a minute though, Margaery seemed to be out of breath and more tears followed so Sansa slowed down. “Too much?”

“A-a bihit”, the brunette giggled, then smiled widely. “But ihit's fun!”

“Where do you want me to tickle you then?” As inexperienced as Sansa was, as good did Margaery seem to know about this particular preference of hers and working together could improve this experience further for both of them. Sansa had noticed that she had a lot of fun with this as well and it took their relationship to a whole new dimension – not only regarding the kinds of intimacy, but also her chance to grasp the nettle of their interactions from time to time.

Margaery thought about it for a bit, probably to take the chance and catch her breath, then raised her arms above her head and looked at Sansa promptly. “But be nice, will you?”

“Of course, dear, why would I not?” Sansa smiled, glad that she hadn't crossed any boundaries, and lightly scribbled over the smooth skin of Margaery's armpits, making the brunette giggle and grasp the bed sheets. “Quiet sensitive here, aren't you?”, the redhead mumbled. As an answer, Margaery just leaned back further and purred between the giggles.

Sansa chuckled with her, continuing the soft touches for a bit more until Margaery squeaked and took her arms down, panting and keeping her eyes shut. Sansa handed her some water and let her sit up, giving her the time to recover. Margaery took it gratefully, then smirked at her. “Now where the hells did that come from?”

The Stark girl shrugged her shoulders. “I told you already today: you're always so good and sweet and I wanted to give something back. Then I saw you twitch at the tailors' touches and it wasn't hard to conclude what made you flinch. My siblings always did it and I thought it might be fun.”

“It was, it was!” Margaery laughed. “But you were so teasy, it was... a bit out of character.”

“Well, I had the best teacher”, Sansa said and Margaery beamed with pride. “Oh, did you?”

Sansa nodded seriously. “Theon Greyjoy.”

“Oh, you!”, the brunette cried and threw her onto the bed, climbing on top of her. “How about a taste of yours and Theon's”, she frowned, “own medicine then, hm?” Her expression softened at the excited yet nervous look on Sansa's face. “I'll be gentle. Promise.”

Sansa nodded.

#game of thrones #game of thrones tickle #femslashfeb2021 #tickle fic #sansaery #established relationship #sansa stark #margaery tyrell #lee!margaery #ticklish!margaery #ler!sansa

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completeotometrash · 4 years ago

Text

Secret Love (Jumin Han Fluff)

(WARNING): Spoilers for Seven’s route, implied nsfw. Read at your own risk.

Part 1

Word count: 2.4k

(She/her) pronouns.

.................

For years he has hopelessly longed for her. There was never a second that he thought she was anything other than ethereal beauty. Like a graceful and refined goddess, she blesses his vision. Though Jumin Han is not one to express his feelings or be interested in art for that matter, somehow, she makes seeing both so much clearer.

He can recall the day she entered the RFA chat room, the way she presented herself. He is still amazed with how daring and bold she was. Everyone loves her for it. At the party, she wore a beautiful red dress that flattered her every curve and did wonders for his wandering mind. But it was not her body that truly earned his attention, rather, her charisma; the way she adapted and took advantage of every opportunity. They got along surprisingly well and even scheduled dinners to enjoy together so they could keep in touch. But she was never too close. He knows he is a busy man; he has no time to indulge in romantic affairs. Even with that aside, from his knowledge she does not share the same feelings.

So, they stayed strictly platonic.

Another year passed; another party was thrown. That time she truly outdid herself. Over a thousand guests were brought in, triple the usual. She slaved away to ensure that it was a great success; and that it was. She did not appear to be overworked, the smile on her face that traveled up to her eyes was magnificent. He found that to be a beautiful quality, the ability to stay positive. His heart hammered in his chest harder than it ever had. That night he found himself unable to sleep. He tossed and turned for hours but the exhaustion never came.

Finally, there is now. He has watched her grow more successful and gain the respect of everyone around her in less than three years. Her parties have raised millions of dollars that has all been donated to charity.

They talk every day in the chat rooms, but it never satisfies the urge to speak to her. To hear her voice. As he normally would not act upon this, his fingers are already dialing her number. She picks up only seconds later.

~~~

With poise, she brings the glass of wine to her lips, one he specially ordered from a famous brewer located in Europe. After a small sip, she licks her bottom lip. He watches her reaction that seems to be a pleased one with the grin that follows.

“It’s exquisite, Jumin. Some of the best that I’ve ever tasted!” She chuckles giddily, setting the glass down. He tries a sip of his own and agrees.

“I’m glad you enjoy it. Would you like the winemaker’s contact information?” He takes another sip before adjusting his collar. She nods, trailing on about how she should invite him to the party as a guest. Her enthusiasm does terrible things to his body. Jumin finds himself heating up and wanting to take off his jacket.

He doesn’t, of course. He has self-control.

“So why is it that you would rather meet here at my estate than go out?” As he enjoyed her company and greatly prefer staying home himself, he could not help but ask. She has only visited his home once before, a brief exchange to deliver something.

She fixes her posture, crossing her right leg over the other. “Honestly, I just wanted to enjoy you and our time together without anyone being around. As much as I love going out with you, I prefer just relaxing together on a less formal level.” She glances around only to look down at her hands, “Also, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t curious about what your apartment looks like.” She nervously laughs, rubbing her hands together.

He swallows, his throat becoming tighter. Such honesty in her statement making him feel a little bashful. Taking a deep breath, he stands. “If you’re interested in my decor, I can show you around.” In a way, he takes pride in the way he keeps his house tidy. He has a modern dark theme with all the newest gadgets on the market. She happily obliges, standing beside him.

~~~

“The view is breathtaking.” She stares out the window with astonishment, finishing her glass of wine. He agrees, but only watches her.

“Yes. The city is quite beautiful in the afternoon while the lights are lit. I made sure of that while searching for my apartment. I’ve found that Elizabeth the Third enjoys the view as well.”

She cackles, shaking her head. “You know, you’ve got her spoiled. It’s actually really cute, just how much you care for her.” Turning to face him, her head tilts to the side. “You’re a good host. We should do this more often.”

Revealing a small smile of his own, he looks down at her. “I appreciate your words and agree that we should do this more often. I find myself enjoying your presence in a less formal environment nice as well.” A small moment of vulnerability.

She gasps, excitedly clapping her hands. “One day, maybe we can do some wine tasting while watching a movie!”

Jumin takes her empty glass and refills it and his own. “I don’t see why we can’t do that now unless you have plans for tomorrow. It’s getting rather late.” He checks the time on his watch. “If not, I’ll have a ride set up to safely escort you home.”

“I don’t mind staying. “

Despite having the movie ready and being situated on the couch nearly an hour ago, it was never started. Sitting side by side, he talks with her instead.

“I’ve always wanted to visit Rome and see the Sistine Chapel! The art there is so beautiful.” She leans back, seemingly more relaxed after two glasses of wine. He too feels the effects of the alcohol.

“That is one place I have not been yet. As I’ve never been one to care for art, I’m sure your company there would be nice.” Jumin freezes, realizing the gravity of his statement as her eyes grow wider. There’s the crippling fear of her suddenly being repulsed by him. Mentally, he scolds himself for possibly making her uncomfortable. “I apologize if that was too-”

His sentence is stopped yet again, but this time she is the one to do it. “In the future I’d love to go with you. What is the fun in traveling alone, anyways?” She smiles, rubbing her head. “Shall we start the movie now?”

He inhales sharply, lifting the remote and pressing play.

~~~

When the credits roll, he shifts, ready to go to bed. Seemingly, she’s already passed the point of exhaustion, eyes closed and chest heaving slowly. Jumin wonders how long she has been asleep and whether he should wake her. He yawns, standing up. It’s dark and it would be dangerous to send her home at this time. That is what he tells himself, at least.

That night he brought her to his guest room, now being unable to forget about it. She went home early the next morning and insisted that she leave immediately. The next day he was given a gift from her, an apology for her accidentally falling asleep. If she gave it to him in person, he would have returned it, she need not apologize for something a friend should do. Although, he cannot help but feel flattered by it. She gave him a navy-blue tie from one of his favorite brands. The material is soft against his fingers; he incorporates it in his outfit for the party.

The day of the party comes quickly, it is at a different location his time because it’s become much vaster. The area is loud, everyone talks cheerfully with each other. Business owners negotiate and bond over shared interests. The same brewer he told her about that was invited to the party was so flattered that he gifted several bottles of his product for it. He notices it being served at the bar.

Jumin continues to scan the room, firstly wanting to congratulate MC. He walks around until he feels a tap to his shoulder. It’s a very excited Saeyoung.

“Jumin! We’ve been looking for you.” Seven steps back, motioning for Jumin to follow. He rounds the corner and immediately notices a familiar tuff of teal hair. He joins the circle, adjusting his sleeve.

“Good afternoon, everyone. The party seems to be a success.” He pops into the conversation in his own giddy way. His excitement doesn’t show, it almost never does.

“Jumin, greetings! We’re glad you could make it.” V smiles wholeheartedly, nodding his head in his companion’s direction.

Yoosung smiles as well, chiming up when he sees him. “The party just gets better every year with MC! She’s just amazing at what she does.” His eyes glimmer with adoration.

Zen crosses his arms, looking around. “Of course, she works her ass off every year, and it pays off. I worry about if she doesn’t take time to relax.” It’s no surprise that Zen worries for her well-being, the multiple lectures in the chat rooms prove just that.

“I’m sure she takes time for breaks; she also knows that we’re here to help with the guests of needed be.” Jahee pushes up her glasses, “Good afternoon, Mr. Han.”

Jumin straightens his posture, “Where is MC at?” His mind returns to its original concern, craving to see her again after their last meeting.

Jihyun places a hand on his shoulder playfully. “She left a few minutes ago to give her speech on the stage, she should be there any moment now- “

Ironically, at that moment, the sound of the mic booms through the speakers, silencing the room.

Jumin is left speechless when he spots her. She wears an elegant dress that reaches just below her knees. It has a V-cut front with golden embroidery; being tight around her hips. She screams utter elegance, and he cannot look away.

Awkwardly, she readies the mic, smiling at everyone in the room. A part of him wishes he were the only one to see it. She looks around, taking a deep breath. “Thank you to everyone who could be here and join us this evening; your presence today means a lot.”

Her eyes catch his own, everything feels like it’s in slow motion now. All but his heart that has seemingly quickened its pace. He wants to pull her to the side, to hold her close to his chest so she can physically feel exactly what she does to him. She touches her neck, smiling a little wider. That same smile that absolutely captivates him. Even as she looks away, he cannot stop his own lingering stare. She looks so ridiculously happy, so pure- beautiful.

Jumin only realizes he was holding his breath when everyone begins applauding her speech around him. He joins, swallowing gently to bring himself back to reality. To his right is an open balcony, one that he quickly moves to catch some fresh air.

It’s brisk outside, but it helps his body cool down faster than it would in the crowded room. He knows the best thing to do is wait and speak to her with a clear mind, urges aside. Taking a deep breath, he holds it until his lungs burn. Feeling almost ashamed of himself, disgusted with how greedy he feels tonight. He moves out of the view of the party, standing alone and gazing upon the city lights.

“Hey stranger.” There is a shuffling noise as the presence of another accompanies him. Jumin glances to his side, MC is looking him up and down. “It’s unlike you to leave a room like that, are you alright?”

He is fine, in the physical sense, so he nods his head in retaliation. “Yes, I found myself getting hot and needed the fresh air. I’d like to congratulate you on the party, yet again, it was a success.”

She places her head on her hand, sighing exhaustedly. “Thank you, that really means a lot to me. I’m so glad you think so. I have been so stressed out lately because of it. I’d also like to thank you for last week, you didn’t have to let me fall asleep, let alone take me to your guest bedroom.” She grins sheepishly, tucking her hand beneath his tie. “I’m also happy that you liked your gift, I saw it and thought about you.” Her fingers softly glide along the fabric.

Her lips are a burgundy color, he cannot help but notice as she comes closer. He wonders if she thinks the same way as him. Jumin looks into her eyes to see if he can find the answer there. Instead, she simply wraps her arms around him, swaying from left to right gently. There is no music, but she makes her own rhythm. “You should dance with me.”

Her hand is now in his, his arm cradling her back and pulling her closer as they move in unition. He finds himself speechless, only focused on the steps she makes. He thinks of all the ways he could confess to her, forgetting just why he had never said anything in the past. Because when he sees her now it’s almost as if he had been struck by Cupid’s arrow.

He stops moving, lips parting open as he looks down at her. He wants to speak, but the words do not come. His mind is suddenly blank. Her eyes flicker for a moment before her head comes closer, he can feel her hot breath against his skin. By instinct, he tilts his head to the side, drawing in like a magnet.

Their lips join finally when she stands on her toes. She tastes sweet, better than even the finest of wines. He immediately pulls her closer, years of pent up feelings releasing themselves in a single kiss. His hands are traveling everywhere on her body that he has ever longed to feel. When his tongue glides against her lower lip she gasps, running a hand through his hair. He moves his lips elsewhere, peppering kissing along her gnaw and down her neck.

Jumin speaks between breaths. “I’m tired of pretending that I don’t want you.” His voice is low as he continues, now kissing her shoulder. This only makes her blush and forcefully hold back a moan.

Right as his lips meet the scratchy fabric of her dress, he pulls away completely. “If you feel the same way, meet me at my apartment after the party.” There’s a sincere look in his eyes as he gazes at her, he’s softer than usual. His hands adjust his coat and hair before he walks back inside, disappearing from her view.

#jumin fanfic #jumin fluff #jumin han #mystic messenger #jumin han mystic messenger #cheritz #otome #fluff #mystic messenger fluff #series

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urlocalbunny · 4 years ago

Text

.lingerie - aaron.

if you came here thinking eloise was wearing the lingerie, you’re wrong.

rated m.

2,400 words. enjoy, babes!

"C'mon, it's this way!" Beliath ushered, eyes gleaming with pride and joy as Aaron followed, feeling out of place and cold. He was already bored, but the shopping was alluring. There were some shoes, nice pants, and even a dress he actually "bought" for Eloise (the clerk already seemed kinda dazed when he came around. They were even looking at his chest as if in a trance. Weirdo.)

Beliath pushed him into a door. In this store, there were some beauty products probably aimed at women, some shoes. But these weren't comfortable at all. They looked painful. A lot of them were shiny and pointy like a sword. Beliath made a sound somewhere else. Aaron followed, with Eloise's baby pink bag and his new plushie of a cat with a cape he found randomly, to remember Ivan. His name was Navi.

If Navi could talk, he would probably curse. Beliath was standing in front of a mannequin wearing a black stripe mess.

"These would look incredible on me, don't you agree?" Aaron quirked a brow and put Navi on the bag. He didn't know what the hell that was, but it was horny and lewd like Beliath himself.

"Fuck is this?" He deadpanned, puzzled.

"... A lingerie set?" Beliath seemed to think he'd understand. He looked at the small stripes again. They were black and quite shiny, the lower piece was supposed to hold the junk in, but it was a small, flimsy-looking triangle held by exactly three black stripes. The top one was a bra without the bust. Therefore, there were two holes in it. He even poked it to see if it wasn't just transparent, but his finger met the cold and gray plastic.

"Make two holes on Eloise's old stuff she threw away. It's for free."

"But it is for free for all of us."

"This is a bunch of stripes. You can make one of these with straws and a blow-dryer." Beliath cackled, rolling his eyes affectionately.

"I think you should try to give Eloise a little show." He teased, making Aaron blush.

"I don't-!"

"You seriously don't understand the lingerie concept? Because-"

"-I do understand, but it's been a long time since I saw any, and they usually dressed people properly." Beliath gaped.

"What do you mean? Eloise never wore any for you? You bang like bunnies!"

"I told her she doesn't need to..."

"You turned Eloise down?!"

Beliath pulled him through aisles without another word on the Eloise subject, asking him what he liked and what he would wear.

"Why did you have to have a girlfriend right when I found that killer one?" He whined.

"You sound like Leandra."

"Ew. Forget that, you're disgusting." Aaron snickered.

"Oh!" His gasp made Beliath look at where he was looking. Then he gasped himself.

A cold, dark green delicate set was there in front of him. A lace thong with green tulle hanging on the sides matched a garter belt and transparent tulle thigh highs, with a delicate corset. It didn't seem as sturdy as the ones supposed to be useful. It was more for the visuals. It had some golden embroidered flowers and leaves, a very subtle and delicate shimmer adorning the threads, and it was smaller to fit between the bra and the belt. There was a bra, but this time covered with a transparent and shiny green tulle similar to the rest, golden bondage straps around the chest area. He didn't even see how he bought it.

Beliath was giddy when they came back, but Aaron could only think about showing it to Eloise and recommending the store so they could take a look. He took a nice bubble bath and put on a robe after getting everything right in place and giving himself a once over. His cheeks were tingling with embarrassment, but he knew Eloise would probably think it was pretty. His eyes wandered to his thighs covered by the socks. The doorknob turning made him squeal.

"Aaron? Are you in there?"

"Hi, Raph. Are you um- okay?"

"I should be asking you the same thing. Are you in need of help?"

"H-help? W-why?" He creaked the door open, clutching his robe into himself and walking backward as his friend tilted his head towards his general direction.

"Well, you are panting, and I heard you cursing under your breath..."

"Oh. I'm fine. Thanks, pal."

"You're welcome. And Aaron?" He stopped by the end of the hall.

"Yes?"

"I'm sure your lingerie looks amazing. Eloise is going to enjoy it. If she doesn't, well. There's always someone else. The embroidery must feel nice to the touch."

Aaron walked away too fast to hear Raphael giggling. When he arrived, Eloise was sitting down on his bed, Navi in her arms. She took a liking to him.

"Um... I have something to show you. Promise you won't laugh."

"I won't unless you bought a rubber chicken."

"No, it was something different." She gave him her attention, motioning for him to continue. He untied the knot on the robe, letting it slide off his shoulders as he turned his front to her. Her eyes widened, and she put a hand in front of her mouth. He was going to cover himself up, but Eloise held the robe and placed it on the bed without realizing he was going to grab it, eyes never leaving his form. She stood closer.

"Look, I think I should-"

"-You look so beautiful."

"... What?"

"God, this green and gold combo compliments your eyes so much. And this corset is so pretty..." Her hand ran along his waist, squeezing in the dip and caressing the curve when she examined the embroidery. Her digits traveled alongside the expanse of his back, sighing when she found the arch, and then she locked her eyes on his chest.

"Eloise? What are you doing?"

"You're a nasty little puppy, aren't you?" He whined, a huff of minty air coming out of his mouth. "Did you let Beliath help you with this?"

"N-no! I- I wanted to save it for you." His puppy eyes made her coo and kiss on his nose, giving an Eskimo kiss afterward and feeling her heart beat fast because of how much he seemed to enjoy such tender touches.

"I'm playing with you, you know. I'm not going to be jealous of our friend." She chuckled, popping one of the clips on the belt open. "You're getting harder and harder, aren't you, puppy?" He sighed, nodding his head.

"I'm going to reward you for this. Let's see if I don't have to use the whip on you for punishments today, huh?" He nodded again.

"Yes, Elo." She rubbed his head, unclasping the belt from the socks to get rid of his thong. After that, she clasped it again, paying no attention to Aaron's raging boner. "Please... I want you to look."

Her eyes locked into his, and he shut his mouth before a whine left his throat. She smiled, sitting on top of him and stuffing his thong on his mouth.

"You've been good the last time I dommed, so I'll give you a choice. How do you want this to go, puppy? Want me to suck you off?" He shook his head no violently. "How about I play with your tight little hole?" He groaned, sighing when she pulled the thong off his mouth and leaned down, kissing his forehead, then his nose. She stood up, rummaging through a drawer and pulling out the strap and the lube. He closed his eyes to relax, but then the rustling the fabric created made him pop them open to watch her strip until only her panties remained. Her boobs bounced off the dress lightly, making his mouth run dry. There were a few bite marks and red marks from the last time, which he appreciated.

She threw the items on the bed, crawling on top of him and bringing his hand to her right boob. Aaron immediately squeezed it, making her arch her back lightly. Her hips moved slowly but surely while she leaned down, unclasping his bra and throwing it aside, leaning down to bite his brown bud. He sucked in a breath and mewled at the slight, pleasurable pain.

Eloise's panties were wet, and the roughness of the fabric against his tip felt delicious, but he needed more, anything more. He pulled her arm down, meeting her lips and whining into the kiss, grabbing her ass and squeezing it. He relished on the moans she let out. His finger trailed, eyes asking for her permission. Eloise slid her panties off, barely registering before he pounced on her, throwing her on the bed and placing himself between her legs, making sure his ass was in the air, his back arched nicely for her.

He kissed her thighs lovingly, feeling her skin and the sweet perfume. His eyes locked into hers as he darted his tongue out, circling her clit slowly. She sighed in contempt, running a hand through his hair in approval. He was itching to taste her, but he knew how she reacted when he changed the pace she set, and this time, she wanted to take it slow.

Her mind was foggy, and pants left her parted lips as he circled his tongue, the wet heat spreading through her abdomen and creating pressure. His lips closed around her bud, sucking it in and letting it out with a pop. His hand trailed that path to her inner thighs slowly, and Eloise enjoyed the view. His nose bumped against her, making her body jolt while he kept her close with one strong arm. The fact that she could snap her fingers and such a big, strong man would bend over for her was more than arousing, but the prospect of how he'd get back at her for taking so long was equally sweet.

Aaron lapped up for a while, circling his tongue and curling his fingers inside her just the right way. Eloise sucked in a breath and curled her toes. The familiar shudder rose from her feet to her upper body. He smiled against her, eyes shining with mischief. Her hand pushed him away, seeing herself on his face and smiling. He'd earned his reward.

"How do you want me to fuck you, puppy?" He eagerly put himself in all fours, giggling at himself when the bed bounced. Eloise gave him vivid laughter, making him smile fondly even when her eyes couldn't see. The bed dipped behind him, and a cold hand came to caress his rear, squeezing and teasing. He moved his hips, coaxing her into giving in slowly, his hair falling to the side and showing his neck that she so eagerly leaned in to kiss.

Her hand slid up and pinched one of his nipples, making him moan lowly and push his hips back. Leaning against him, Eloise wrapped a hand around his shaft, pumping slowly and expertly. His hips wiggled, soft moans left his throat as he rocked like an obedient pet, sighing and squeezing the sheets when she picked up or slowed down. Soon, he felt the shiver that came with the warm lube coating his hole. She stopped jerking him. Her finger prodded, complimenting how pretty he looked over the wet sounds and small gasps.

"Eloise, f-fuck."

"Shhhh, baby. Patience." He whined in frustration, which made her chuckle and grant him her whole finger, making him sigh in relief. He rocked his hips on the pace she set, a pretty arch on his back. Eloise judged it was time to add another finger, so she did it slowly, lubing him to her liking and checking on him. Aaron was a mess. His dick was leaking on the sheets, now abandoned by her. He wanted her to jerk him off already, but he knew she was going to drag this out until he could finally fuck her.

The strap's tip was warm. Aaron's eyes fluttered shut, finally feeling the stretch.

"You're so relaxed, puppy. That's it." He moaned, hips jerking while she cooed at him.

From there on, the only sounds he could focus on were the ones she produced. Her labored breathing from the recent orgasm, her hands sliding against him, her praise, and the light slapping sounds that started to submerge on his mind.

"Anh- fuck! Yes, yes!" He keened, but the pillows muffled the sound, making Eloise pull his hair roughly upwards. He hissed, feeling his dick jump violently.

"Let people hear how good you feel, puppy. Who's making you feel so nice, huh?"

"You, you Eloise, please don't stop, nhg-"

Her hand slapped his ass hard, hips hitting just the right spot.

"Look at you. You're enjoying my dick this much?" He nodded fervently, making her chuckle and soothe the sting on his rear. She let his head go, and he put it to the side as not to muffle more sounds, or else she was going to punish him. The bed hit the wall repeatedly, making him rock back into the dildo. That was heaven to him, being with her like this, skin to skin and feeling so, so good.

His moans got ragged and urgent all of a sudden, making Eloise slow down for a while, then grab his dick and pump it. He punched the wall, making her chuckle.

"Are you ready, puppy? You've been such a good pet." He nodded, barely being able to form any words at all. She moved her hips quickly, pumping him until the knot on his stomach snapped. White-hot pleasure flashed through him as she let go as soon as he came, letting him spurt the load on his own while she focused on fucking into him.

After a while, he pulled away, whimpering. Eloise pulled out, laughing at his disheveled state and pushing him to the side, where he fell like a doll, eyes already heavy. Eloise forgot about herself and dressed one of Aaron's shirts, picking the sheets up and throwing the dildo in the bathroom sink, washing it, and putting it back in place. As soon as she came back, however, there was no sign of Aaron in the bed.

"Aaron? Uh- weird, where is- ah!"

He clasped a hand in her mouth. The growling sound she heard was a clear answer.

"About time you came back..."

#nsfwbunny #moonlight lovers #moonlight lovers aaron #moonlight lovers headcanons #moonlight lovers smut #aaron x eloise #sub!aaron #ml aaron

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emerald-amidst-gold · 3 years ago

Note

FRIEND FRIEnd friend fr-

I have a 🌟 question 🌟

Souvenirs from days gone: Does Fane have a mundane object he's emotionally attached to from his past (draconic past or most recent)? A toy, a piece of clothing that doesn't fit any longer but he can't find in his heart to get rid of, a pretty pebble or a dried flower someone dear gave him in days long gone?

FRIEND, FRIIIIEEENNNNDDD! >:D Your questions always leave me pleasantly surprised and EXCITED because I just love explaining Fane's oddities and softer side!

So, objects that Fane is emotionally attached to? There are quite a few, actually! (Surprise, right? X'D) However, I'll go with the one that Fane cherishes the most!

In my fic, Mhairi gives Fane a crimson sash as a birthday present, and it's the only article of clothing (other than his leather wraps) that he wears that has Dalish inspiration. Though, he doesn't wear it because of that, of course, but the gift is something Fane rarely goes without because it was the first gift he received after his father's experiments ended (about a year after, in fact). It was like a safety blanket, a reminder that he wasn't truly alone, and that what he did perhaps wasn't in vain since Mhairi was alive, whole, and 100% unaware of everything that had happened to him.

----

"Vhenan, what is this? It appears to be of Dalish craftsmanship, but the materials are not what I'm accustomed to seeing.", Solas asked, turning to face where he was at the desk.

The rich crimson flowed over his sky's hands, delicate gold embroidery of leafless trees and the tiniest of hallas all along its edges and woven into the very core of velvet. Solas had a thoughtful, curious expression on his face, blue and grey orbs fixed on the beautiful article, almost appraising it. Fane chuckled at that, lifting a hand to scratch at his temple idly. Leave it to this elf to immediately pinpoint the one thing that actually meant something in his 'hoard' and assess it.

"You're too nosy for your own good sometimes, you know that?", Fane said, but he kept his voice light and a small smirk on his face. He wasn't miffed with the man; there were no secrets between them, just surprises as they learned and relearned.

Solas blinked, eyes and face snapping up to him as he was caught red handed. "I only--", he began, but Fane cut him off with a small wave of his hand.

He rolled his eyes, smirking more. "I know, my sky. Relax.", he assured, slowly pushing himself up from his seat with only a minor grimace of discomfort. He sat for too long again. How he did that with his job, he would never know.

Fane circled around the other end of his desk, strides slow, but not seeming like it as he easily closed the distance between he and Solas. The mage looked up at him, a wry smirk on his lips and the uncommon sight of sheepishness in his sky-line eyes. It was always a treat when he could coax out those hidden emotions with a few words. Always a treat.

"Here," Fane held out his hands, palms up and beckoning with two fingers. "..give it.", he said and smiled a tad more warmly as Solas gave him the crimson article of cloth without protest or question. The wolf was as keen as it was curious.

"I assume it is of sentimental value?", Solas asked as Fane began to fold the length of velvet and gold in a specific fashion, shortening it one way, lengthening it in another.

Fane nodded. "It was a gift.", he said, pulling the material taut to work out the kinks before seamlessly starting to wrap it around his waist. It was a bit harder to work this into his normal attire, especially with what he wore now, but the mage would get the gist.

Solas watched him raptly, head tilting a bit. "A gift?", he asked.

Fane huffed with amusement. "I know, an odd thought, but yes.", he affirmed, deftly tying and tucking without any thought. He had done this for so long that he barely had to visualize how the sash would lay, how the material would bunch or smooth out. As such, he glanced up, meeting soft orbs and a tender expression and greeted it one of his own. "..It was from Mhairi, so I guess it really isn't that odd of a thought if you think about it."

Realization flashed across his sky's features, thoughtfulness dissolving, blue swallowing grey as irises widened and pupils did so in turn. The shock wore off quickly, however, Solas' expression warming to where Fane could swear he could feel its heat physically. Or maybe that was just his face. His cheeks did feel warm. Which meant...he was blushing. Lovely. Why did he always blush when confronted with that look? Damn it all.

"I see. The craftsmanship makes more sense now with that in mind. Your sister is immensely talented in the delicate arts.", Solas said, a smile pulling at the corner of his lips more as he took a few steps to where Fane was suddenly having trouble tying due to how much warmth was between them. Damn the sky... It was too beautiful, too strong.

Fane cleared his throat harshly. "Yeah, she is.", he agreed, quickly turning his gaze down to crimson and gold because the view of blue and grey was making him lightheaded. "She spent months gathering the supplies and funds to make it. Odd jobs in the clan for coin and whatnot. I remember snapping at her when she told me she had gone to local villages to gather rarer items. Stubborn girl.", he grumbled, but smiled fondly all the while. His sister was indeed stubborn, but so was he. At least they were related in that fashion.

"She was willing to tempt to danger for you. I do not believe that is solely stubbornness, vhenan.", Solas explained with a fond chuckle.

Fane shrugged. "Guess not, but I still didn't like the thought of her traipsing into a town full of templars ready to maim her, to silence her.", he growled before taking a deep breath. Calm, calm. He would end up tearing the sash if he thought on those memories too much.

"Truthfully, nor do I relish that thought. Especially since I have seen the effects those in the armor have upon her.", the mage admitted. Fane remembered the event that Solas spoke of without full context. He would not let another gauntlet touch either of them again. "But, her gesture and endeavors were well meaning; they came from a place of love."

Fane hummed, ire washing away as he gazed at crimson and gold, trees and hallas. "Don't I know it.", he whispered with fondness. A new feeling of tranquility washed over him as he gazed down at the masterful sash, memories beginning to wiggle into his mind. "Material magic. That's what I've always called it."

He heard Solas chuckle, his hands coming into to view to help resume the task Fane could no longer complete due to emotions and more innocent days painting his psyche in gentle shades of pink. Every time he looked at his sister's gift for over long he...drifted, but not like how he once had when he gazed up at the sky, watching its expanse shift and feel his heart ache with yearning. This was more gentle, more welcome. It was nice.

"Explain?", Solas inquired, voice soft and gestures softer as slender hands skimmed along his waist and plucked at cloth. The mage was less prodding and more...reverent now. That made Fane lean forward a bit, resting the side of his head against Solas'.

"I just..feel calm from mere sight and touch. It's like how I feel when you speak to me in Elvhen in the morning.", he murmured, glancing down to see Solas was being less productive now, fingers merely tracing, feeling and memorizing delicate designs as his eyes were. "The material holds warmth and love; things I feel I still don't deserve, but am learning to accept. It's...something I don't think I'll be able to abandon even if the world commands me to." It would be one call he would not answer, and he would not feel guilt over it this time.

Solas' eyes fluttered shut. "Some must be obeyed, some mustn't. That is one I believe would be forgiven.", he whispered, coming closer still, fingers curling into lushness as Fane brought his arms up to loosely wrap them around an unadorned waist.

Fane hummed, nuzzling against the mage's temple absently. "We'll see about that, won't we? I may not abandon my sister's gift, but--"

Solas cut him off with a gentle shake of his head, eyes turning away from sanctuary to bore up into him, face soft, but expression hard. It was a look Fane was all too familiar with; they wouldn't think past today, or rather, he wouldn't. Easier said than done, but his sky was right. As always. He would find sanctuary tonight, not tear apart fabric as surely as he would one day tear apart a heart plated in gold and wrapped in velvet.

----

Fane loves Mhairi with all his heart. They may not be brother and sister in blood, but they are in soul. It's why everything he has to do and say later hurts so immensely; he doesn't want to do it. And it only hurts worse when the sash becomes a sword of pain to his heart rather than a blanket of sanctuary, but he keeps it, he endures. The sash seems mundane to those on the outside, but Fane doesn't care about them or what they think. He'll take any ounce of love he can, even if he feels, deep down, that he truly doesn't deserve it.

#asks #ask #oc: fane lavellan #oc: mhairi lavellan #solas #dragon age #dragon age inquisition #fane and mhairi's relationship gives me FEELS GALORE #and solas and mhairi actually become somewhat close near the end of inquisition #solas actually becomes kind of a second brother to mhairi :3 #will i write the scene solas eludes to? perhaps~ >:3 #mhairi and templars are...bad. *laughs nervously*#i hope you like the answer! X3 #i was trying to think of silly little things but most of fane's emotional possessions are HEAVY XD #and thank you so much for the question! I love them~ X3

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