#hehe /four/shadowing

[inumbrapugnabimus-maybe]

@uncleskyrule your tags were far too good to ignore

this is a sequel to this

also i think i'm finally starting to get the hang of drawing on a computer :D

[indigos-stardust]

Work in progress

@shadylink come and get ur food

[spop-romanticizes-abuse]

found this template and i just thought i'd fill it in

[littlelightfish]

Four Swords boys, the sames from the manga, but my version of them.

They're around 15-16 here

Under the cut for my headcanons and closeups <3

My personal favorite

Blue is less explosive after his adventure, but an overall grumpy introvert, and is autistic. Talks very little with his brothers, but he talks to no-one else. Doesn't know sign language, he has to express himself the best he can, and since he doesn't always has something to write on, he ussually just doesn't try to socialize and can be mistaken for someone rude when he doesn't reply. He doesn't have friends aside from his brothers and Zelda, but is mostly fine with it, and his love language is acts of service, since he doesn't know how to express love very well, and likes making the people he cares about happy. He isn't great with his body language when he's not trying to express something in particular. Ussually stands arms crossed and grumpy face.

Usually goes on missions with one of his brothers (since the events of the manga, he doesn't like being outside alone at all), and he's the strongest colour, at the same time, the most scarred of them (usually takes the first hit and tries to avoid his brothers getting hurt in battle at any costs). Gets a bit jaleous when he notices how many friends Green and Red have, and when he's left aside or behind (on purpose or not) he tends to overthink and aisles himself. Claustrophobic, can't sleep with closed doors and without a light, hates the cold, and when stressed can be very sharp and mean. He has outbursts when stressed but he usually doesn't mean what he says or does when he's having it. His brothers and the castle guards know this, but town's people don't, and that's why he isn't very loved in town, and why he doesn't like going outside and getting involved into situations that may stress him. Sometimes he hates himself for being like this, and hates that he can't help it, but at least he's got his brothers support. His farher doesn't understands him, and often makes him upset trying to be nice, which he gets, but it drains his patience and pushes him to be sharp with him.

Has an obsession with weapons. He knows every single one of them, he loves them, he likes to take care of them, polish them, test them... His room is always tidy because he just can't stand when something is out of place. Has sensory issues with certain foods and doesn't like animals that much. Only Red's kitten. He's the only one that truly understands him.

Green hasn't changed that much, he's a loud extrovert and spending time with people is his love language. Is Zelda's closest friend, they share everything after the adventure. He doesn't like being the center of attention, but manages it well, at least better than the other colours. Uses a ponytail because Zelda told him once that she liked soldiers with long hair, and is the one with the most common sense, against popular belief.

He is terrified of solo missions, and likes Blue's mute company the best when outside, but he enjoys time alone in the castle and their home. He's the one the people are talking about when they say "Link", and therefore the only one that reacts at that name. Has ADHD, can't sit still even in serious situations, even when he tries, always forgets what he was going to do and that's why he writes down everything he's been told to do. Usually is the one to carry all the healing items, as he's the most agile and fast of them, and can hand or throw a bottle with precision while running. He's really good at sparring and is usually the last standing colour in a fight.

He is worried sick about his brothers well-being, much more than he cares to admit. He is often at Blue's side at all times (unless when he says that he needs/wants to be alone), and is beginning to worry him the way people in town looks at Blue. He's got an obsession with insects. He knows every family of insects, every variation, the evolutive line of every single one of them he sees. Yet, arachnids do not count. He HATES spiders with all his might. Still, knows everything about them. Specially the bet way to get rid of them.

He's seen things. Usually soft and caring, but often too tired to get out of bed. Is really sweet and never means to make anyone upset, and even though he doesn't know how to say no, he knows to stand for others, to tell if someone is being reckless, and can see when someone is a bad person right though.

His brothers are afraid he might be developing some kind of disorder, and they suspect depression or bipolarity (1), and he has come to admit he isn't as happy as he was before, and he would like to know what's wrong with him, because he realizes it isn't normal to behave like he does. Lately he's been having meltdowns more frequently, and struggles with basic chores.

Reliable in battle, is always trying to get everyone to safety once they can't continue fighting. He's very perceptive and can tell when someone is hiding an injury easily, at the same time, he's the best hiding them (when he believes it's nothing that important). Usually is the one to save Blue's ass when he is very focused on being the human shield of the group, and the best at not getting hit. They've decided lately that's better not to take him into missions until he feels better. Is a terrible survivalist, likes to cook and eat very much, and can't stand being alone at any time, otherwise he'll start overthinking and end up crying after the first half hour. He has many friends in town and all over the map, is by far the most loved of the colours, likes to write letters to them and his love language is giving gifts. He's the reason they adopted a kitten. He is empathetic, bot doesn't know how to handle other people's meltdowns or outbursts. Likes Vio's silence company the most, but enjoys everyone's. He really doesn't like dark places, and being alone is his biggest fear.

After his adventure, he's shown to be someone who doesn't like being disturbed while focused, but that enjoys company. He's really talkative and objective, but even being the brains of all them, he lacks of common sense. He thinks everything way too much, is always the pessimist vewing the worst possible outcome, and because of that he's always prepared for the worst. He knows every enemy's weakness only by looking at it, but he's the worst at fighting and the first always to fall. He prefers to be shooting arrows from a safe distance because he isn't that useful during a battle (he knows this and doesn't like going on missions at all). The scars on his face are Shadow's courtesy, and he doesn't like to talk about it. He's the closest to Red and the one that knows the first when somethings off about him, but sucks at reading people in general. He knows the best how to get Green to focus on something, and how to manage Blue's outbursts and prevent them. His love language probably is phisical contact, but he is really selective in this. He's afraid of heights and often avoids the third floor of a building or a dungeon if he can, especially if the room he has to go to has windows or a balcony. If he can avoid going into stairs, better.

He doesn't really likes to talk about his feelings at all, but no because he's shy about it, but because he doesn't understands feelings well, even tho he knows how to behave and react when someone's being emotional. He often feels guilty about Shadow, and wonders if he did the right thing back then. "It was probably the best outcome", he thinks to put his mind at ease. He didn't had any kind of feelings towards him, he was only hoping to be useful to the other colours with his actions.

He was very little time with the colours, and no-one seems to know what happened to him after he disappeared. After saving them he was presumed dead, but he lives in the colours shadow and has enough movement to unsettle someone looking carefully. He wishes to be hylian and live the lovely lives they all seem to live, but he knows every messed up thing that happens in the colour he's under range of vision/hearing, even when said colour doesn't. When the colour he's being the shadow of falls in battle or asleep, he, if wants to remain conscious, has to move to the shadow of another of the colours, but it's really hard to do, since he has to be touching the other shadow for it. It's easy in dark rooms, but since they don't seem to like them very much, he just falls unconscious.

He truly hates being reduced to a mere shadow, he misses talking so much... He's always the first to know when there are enemies nearby, when someone's about to get ambushed, and when an item is cursed. He usually avoids being at Green or Vio's shadow, because Green's always close to Zelda, and because of what Vio did. He had a hard time getting over it. He prefers Blue's shadow the best, and is worried sick about his and Red's well-being since they're often struggling with being alive, and he grew a soft spot for them both with time. When far from Zelda, Green's shadow is his fauvorite. He's always moving and doing something, it amazes him a bit, actually.

They all go by he/him, but they don't mind being misgendered my "they/them", it makes sense. Every other pronoun would offend them and they will kindly (or not so much) tell what their pronouns are.

Red is hetero, Blue is demi, Green hetero as well, Vio aro, and shadow doesn't know what we're talking about neither cares.

If you read all this, thanks for liking it enough to read it all <3

If I mispronounced something, I'm sorry, English isn't my first language :')

[nancyheart11]

Got any wips with the word "trust"?

Sky watched them tense on instinct and saw the minute they remembered it was their rancher. Four slumped into the hold a moment before Legend did, trusting that Twilight wouldn’t attack. Their trust … may have been misplaced though since they started shivering harder against the rancher’s smooth skin.

[gloomwitchwrites]

What If 141 and the best enemies to lovers line of all time...

"Who did this to you?"

Cue protective instincts and sexiness

hehe I am giggling!! Okay. Listen. I am fully aware that this is an enemies to lovers trope, but I don't think it applies to all of the 141 guys in that manner. Is there protectiveness? Yes. Is there a bit of spice? Yes, if you squint really hard. Is there also some sweetness thrown in? Absolutely there is. I had lots of fun with this one. I hope you enjoy it!

Presented in four double drabbles.

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

Task Force 141 x 141!Reader

Content & Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): swearing, brief blood and injury, hurt/comfort, brief suggestive themes, protectiveness, light angst

Word Count: 800

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // imagines & what if masterlist

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

“Who did this?” Kyle bends forward at the waist, pressing a bag of frozen peas to your face. His concern is genuine. You can see that, but it’s strange. The two of you get on, but this is something else.

Kyle looks…angry like your injury personally offends him.

“It’s nothing,” you murmur. “Things happen during sparing. It’s fine.”

Kyle’s frown only deepens. He doesn’t believe you. And why should he? The person you were placed with took it too far. And it was all to impress him as if putting you in your place would somehow grant his favor.

It’s clearly done the opposite. He could care less about your sparring partner.

“It was your sparring partner, wasn’t it?”

You don’t answer. Just press the peas to your forehead a little harder.

This time, Kyle’s frown turns slightly upward. “Jokes on them, ya?”

You glance at him sideways. “How so?”

Kyle is grinning. It’s stunning. All pearly white teeth.

“Because I have my eye on someone else,” he says simply, as if that answers everything.

Though you cannot see yourself, you feel your face growing hot under Kyle’s gaze.

“You shouldn’t say thing like that,” you reply.

“Why? It’s true.”

John Price

“Who did this?”

“Why do you care so much, John?”

You attempt to pull your face out of his grasp but he holds firm.

“Of course I care,” he replies. The two of you stare into each other’s eyes, chests heaving. John is close. Too close. So close he could easily brush his lips against yours.

“I don’t know why,” you murmur.

“You do,” he affirms, authority in his tone.

Do you? Maybe. Perhaps. Deep within yourself you truly know the reason but can’t decide to speak it to the air. That would make this real. Whatever this is between the two of you.

‘Tell me who did this?”

“And do that what?”

“What the fuck I want to them, love.”

“It’s nothing. You shouldn’t worry about it,” you reply, again trying to escape from him.

But John isn’t having it. His other hand hooks around your upper arm, and then you’re pressed closed to him. He is so warm. All strength.

“Let go,” you say, but there is no volume behind it. It is weak. Not even a protest.

“Tell me,” he repeats, head dipping slightly.

Yes. Close enough to kiss.

“Tell me,” he says again, this time softer.

Simon "Ghost" Riley

Simon’s blood beats heavy. It is tinged with metal. A lace of fire that cannot abate.

His boots slap against the linoleum floor. The overhead lights are bright. Clinical. He is a shadow here. A dark specter.

No one stops him. No one glances his way.

And why should they?

He is a man made fury.

There were hands put upon you. A training exercise taken too far. Simon was not there. And he doesn’t know why. Not exactly. But he’s furious. Protective. The fact that he could not stop this only infuriates him further.

To him, this is a failure.

He doesn’t come to a stop. Doesn’t knock. He barges right on in.

The nurse yelps. Spins suddenly. Face red.

You glance up, eyes wide at first but soothing slightly as they land on Simon. You’re bruised. Stitched up.

Fucking hell.

“Out,” barks Simon.

The nurse leaves but stares him down the entire time. He approaches the table, and lightly brushes the backs of his fingers against the wound on your forehead.

“Who did this?” he asks.

“Simon—”

“Which fucker?” he growls, bending forward slightly to look into your eyes.

“Should see the other guy,” you joke, smiling.

John "Soap" MacTavish

Johnny shouldn’t feel this way. He shouldn’t. You’re not his. Even if he wishes it were so.

Every swing of his fist sends the building frustration outward, shooting into the massive boxing bag before him. It’s a poor substitute for the face he truly wants to smash. Several faces that is. Two specifically.

Who did this?

The words slipped from him unbidden. An instant anger. You had only scowled. Told him you could handle yourself. And you can. Johnny knows this. But he’s still fucking pissed about it. Still seething.

All the fucker got was a quick slap on the wrist. A promise to not do it again.

That sits sour in Johnny’s belly.

But you didn’t cave, no matter how much Johnny insisted that he’d take care of it on your behalf. So he is here, punching the shit out of something that isn’t flesh.

He wishes he could take away your pain. Take away the memory. Give it to himself to carry. You don’t turn on your own. There’s no honor in what happened.

But as much as he wants it to be true, Johnny can do nothing.

You are not his.

Even if he wants to be.

taglist:

@km-ffluv @glitterypirateduck @tiredmetalenthusiast @miaraei @cherryofdeath

@sapphichotmess @saoirse06 @ferns-fics @unhinged-reader-36 @miss-mistinguett

@ravenpoe67 @tulipsun-flower @sageyxbabey @mudisgranapat @ninman82

@lulurubberduckie @leed-bbg @yawning-grave81 @azkza @nishim

@haven-1307 @voids-universe @itsberrydreemurstuff @spicyspicyliving @keiva1000

@littlemisscriesherselftosleep @statixx-x @umno-yeah @blackhawkfanatic @talooolaaloolla

@sadlonelybagel @kadeeesworld @iloveslasher @sammysinger04 @dakotakazansky

@suhmie @jaggersinclair @jackrabbitem @lxblm @beebeechaos

@no-oneelsebutnsu @kidd3ath @certainlygay @thewulf @lovely-ateez

@pearljamislife @heeheehoohoohahahihi @eternallyvenus @burn1ngw00d @taysarchive

[tarotsoul]

ghost in the wind — part four

summary: struggling to get a grip on your newfound power, azriel is the only one your magic allows close. and there’s no stopping either of you when you spend the night alone together.

warnings: grieving, mentions of death, swearing, kissing, teasing, fingering, dirty talk, shadow play (hehe)

word count: 6.7k

series masterlist

Lucien Vanserra knew not to question his mate when she demanded they left for Velaris immediately. Two days of travelling. He had not asked questions—had not doubted his mate’s worry and vision, not even for a moment. 

Elain saw the blast before it occurred. She felt the earth quake beneath her feet, felt the soil and life around her stand still. A power had been awoken. A power so fierce it had shook the lands of even the Day Court. 

She had known of your presence in Prythian. Feyre had sent word to her, promised it had been nothing to worry about, that Nesta had taken you away from Rafe and that you were finally safe. 

Safe. 

That feeling in her stomach promised anything but safety. Two days of travelling. Two days of no rest. And despite her seering abilities, despite the far future she had already glimpsed, nothing could have prepared her for what greeted her arrival.

While Velaris remained as beautiful as ever, as busy and bustling as it had before she and Lucien left to travel just over a year ago…there was nothing but desolation in the air. Every breath was hard to inhale, every step on cobblestones and patchy soil a struggle to walk. 

Something was very, very wrong. 

Those suspicions were confirmed the moment she stepped foot into the River House. An eerie silence settled as soon as she passed the threshold of her High Lord and Lady’s home. Lucien could sense it, too. The hairs on the back of his neck spiked the further he walked through the grand abode. 

Rhysand met them in the foyer, a grave and wanton look to his handsome features. Elain did not apologise as she pushed past him and made for her two sisters. Both stricken with tears and pure dread. Elain struggled to loose a breath, struggled to come to terms with the energy that invaded her. 

“I came as soon as I felt it.” 

Feyre met her gaze, eyes lined with grief. Elain took a step closer. “Where is she?”

Nesta sniffled, raised her head and kept her chin high. But Elain knew her sister, knew she was close to crumbling all over again. She could not speak, could not open her mouth in fear of what animalistic cry might break through. 

Feyre spoke instead. “She’s upstairs, Azriel will not leave her side.” 

Azriel, yes. Elain had seen those visions, too. 

A question rose on the tip of her tongue, one she never considered she’d ever have to ask. She felt Lucien’s presence as he neared, a comforting hand reaching to caress her arm in comfort. She melted into it, though unlike usual, he was not able to settle the dread in her chest. 

“Her heart stopped beating after the blast,” Rhysand spoke softly as he entered the room, reaching for his mate. “However, Madja believes her soul is still in her body. She thinks Y/N is still fighting, despite all else suggesting otherwise.” 

Elain blinked back her tears. It was never supposed to have gone this way. You were never supposed to have died. 

“Madja is looking into some remedies, into the history of your mothers bloodline. For now, all we can do is wait. She has taken samples of blood and hair from Nesta and Feyre, there are no magical markers that match with Y/N’s, though if you’re willing, we’d like to test yours, just to be safe.”

Elain allowed her head to dip in acceptance, though the movement was completely subconscious. This would not be the end of you. Could not be the end. Not after everything Elain had peeked in the future. 

Azriel had not left your side in two days. The moment the blast settled, he shot through the skies to reach you. He did not expect to find that stone mountain covered in soil and tulips.  He did not expect to find your cold, lifeless body collapsed above the rubble.

He had never felt such fear, such despair. And the moment you were laid in his bed, in his room at the River House, he had not left your side. Not for food, water or rest. Not for anything. 

He stayed when Madja came to assess you, when she took samples of your blood and hair, when she smoothed a salve over the marred skin of the crescent moon on your chest. He stayed when Mor came to brush your hair and paint your fingernails. He stayed when Nesta came to read to you, when Feyre laid beside you and prayed. 

He could not leave that room, could not leave your side. 

And when Madja had returned that morning, with a hopeful gleam in her eye that she may have found something to help, he still would not allow himself to hope. 

Fear crippled every ounce of his being. Fear of speaking his hopes into existence, that the mother could be cruel to deny him. So he kept his hope buried deep. So deep that his soul latched onto it and called out to you. 

The taste of your lips still lingered on his, your scent still wrapped around him. But Azriel could not bring himself to touch you, could not dare a feel of your cold skin. Your heart had stopped beating, your chest had stopped rising. 

But he would not allow the idea of your death to linger in his mind. He could feel you, somehow, somewhere. And deep in his soul, he begged for you to hold on, to use whatever power you had to come back.

A gentle knock sounded on the bedroom door, Azriel did not need to turn to know it was Elain. Though he could not scent Lucien beside her. 

She moved like a gentle breeze, every step light and hesitant. He knew how hard it had been for everyone, for your cousins. He wanted to allow Elain a moment alone with you, as he wanted with the others, but just as before, his soul would not allow his leave. 

“Hello, Elain.”

His voice, so cold and distant. It had been a long time since he had addressed her in such a tone. She bowed her head in greeting and took a seat on the other side of your bed. He didn’t watch her, neither did his shadows. Both he and those wisps of darkness fixated on your unmoving body. 

Elain reached for your hand, a breath parting from her pink lips. “She’s cold.”

Azriel closed his eyes, tried to shut out the anguish he wanted to cry. He remained in silence, so did Elain. They sat unmoving, watching you. 

Until Elain spoke again. 

“I have seen a field of tulips. Where the air is fresh and the soil is rich.” Always speaking in cryptic words, nothing ever as simple as it should be. “I have seen what lay beyond the forest. There is a promise of something stronger than I have ever felt. Something soul-binding.” 

Elain did not look at Azriel as she spoke, she did not take her eyes away from you. Uncurling your hand, she placed three seeds in your palm and then curled it shut tight, her fist caressing yours. 

“Did you know that green tulips symbolise hope and rebirth?” She turned to him then, her face void of any emotion. “Brown tulips symbolise resilience and commitment.” Her eyes wandered to Azriel’s scarred hands that sat in his lap.

He watched the middle Archeron for a moment, his mind processing the words she spoke. He watched her gaze travel to your spare hand, the one that seemed to reach for him, palm open in invitation. 

His mind screamed not to touch you, not to hurt his heart like that. But his soul. His soul ached to feel you once more. 

Against his better judgement, he allowed a shaky hand to reach yours—skin cold and lifeless as he held you again. Azriel bit back a cry, willed the tears not to fall. His shadows followed their masters lead, snaking around your fingers and wrist and up your arms. 

Elain removed her hand, her eyes fixated on your fist of seeds. It was then that she opened your palm, and right before their eyes, the seeds bloomed into tulips. One green, one brown, one white. And your chest heaved its first breath in two days. 

Time stopped, Azriel froze. 

And your eyes blinked open. 

The air kissed your skin in a way you had never experienced before. The green of the grass was more vibrant than ever, the fluttering of a robin's wings like music to your ears. The river flowed softly, a hum of a sweet lullaby that soothed your soul. 

This is what it was supposed to feel like. The power, the magic. Was this how you were destined to live? To be one with the earth and feel its life beneath your feet? 

You felt their eyes on you from feet away, felt the way they itched to approach, to hold and soothe you. Elain had been the one to keep everyone back, to allow you a moment to breathe again. 

You felt no pain, no sorrow. 

They had followed you out of the River House and toward the embankment, allowed you a moment to let your magic flow. A sweet relief, to touch the soil and watch the buds of flora bloom. 

Though, you had no control. You did not wield your power to plant in the soil, you did not ask for lily pads to perch on the gentle waters surface. You had no control, but you would. You would find a way to harness it, to wield it. 

Another breath, your final moment alone. You turned to the others, to their hopeful faces and a smile began to stretch across your lips. 

Cassian was the first one to grin, the first one to step forward to join you. But his sudden movement startled something in your gut. And a root of sharp thorns shot from the soil and dared to pierce through Cassian’s brown skin. 

He jumped back, eyes wide and your lips parted in shock. You had not meant to do that, had no thought to hurt Cassian. Your magic acted on impulse, to protect you. 

He stepped back again, hands in the air in surrender. Rhysand watched with a tilted gaze, watched when the vine of thorns sunk back into the ground. 

So your magic would not allow others to approach you uninvited. Perhaps if you approached them instead. 

Your steps were slow, cautious. You held your breath in an attempt to hold down the power that begged to course through your veins. 

You dared another look at your friends. 

“It’s okay,” Mor smiled. “Take your time.” 

Another deep breath, another step. One foot in front of the other, your teeth gritting to keep the power at bay. Three feet away from them, you took another deep breath. This time to calm your racing heart. 

“I have no control over it.” 

Rhysand offered a gentle smile. “That’s to be expected. How do you feel?” 

Your eyes flittered between them all, lingering a moment too long on Azriel before you gazed at the world around you. A tilt upturned your lips. 

“I feel like I can finally breathe. I can feel everything in the soil. It’s like the trees are whispering to me, like the birds are singing.”

You looked back to Rhys, to Feyre. “How am I even alive?” 

Feyre dared a step closer, and you willed your power to understand she would not harm you. None of them would. 

“Madja is looking into it. For now, you need to take it easy. The smallest thing could make your power spiral or act out.” She looked between her family, returning her gaze to you. 

“Perhaps it would be best if only one of us remained by your side, for now. Maybe we can test to see who your magic doesn’t see as a threat.” 

“Well clearly I’m out of the picture,” Cassian mumbled, scuffing his feet against the grass. 

You considered Feyre’s suggestion, perhaps it would be the safest way for now. One step would be enough to see if your power responded, one step enough to create distance just in case. 

“Okay, yeah let’s do that.” 

Feyre took a step first, hesitant but with a gentle and excited smile. Her emotions were palpable, you could feel the relief that you were alive, the excitement of the prospect of you having a newfound strength. 

No one could ever take advantage of you again. 

But your power did not allow Feyre another step closer. It wrapped vines around her ankles, keeping her in place. She did not move, her calmness did not falter. You pinched your eyes shut, begged and pleaded for your magic to release her. 

And after a few moments, it did. 

Feyre returned to her previous position, and Rhysand cleared his throat as he took his turn. 

Your power did not allow him closer. It did not allow Mor, or Elain. Nor Lucien or Nesta. It left only Azriel. And your heart thudded wildly in your chest. 

You met his molten gaze, and you could feel the taste of his lips on yours again. Azriel did not move to begin with, he instead sent a lone shadow to reach you slowly. 

Your magic flickered, but it did not attack. When the shadow weaved through your hair, daisies sprouted in their wake. You didn’t notice Azriel step closer, did not notice until the toes of his boots were just a foot from you and you finally met his gaze again. 

Your breathing hitched, throat tightening. Something stirred in your gut, a simmering feeling of relief and comfort and something you felt far too often in your life. 

Shame. 

“It’s okay,” he said softly. “You don’t have to hold it back if it’s too much.” 

You blinked, only now realising that you didn’t need to hold your power back. It was settled deep within you, no longer begging for a release. 

“I’m not.” You shook your head.

His gaze searched your face, shadows touching your hair. He trailed his eyes down your neck, to your chest where he fixated on that marred area of flesh for just a moment. Hazel eyes snapped back to yours. 

It was as though your beauty had been amplified tenfold. Your skin glowed, a lightness in your posture by no longer having such a heavy weight on your shoulders. And your eyes, your eyes gleamed with something he’d never seen before. 

Azriel’s chest tightened. 

He cleared his throat. “Madja is looking for something to help you learn control. The more we understand your magic, the easier it’ll be.” 

You nodded, did not dare to break his gaze. Azriel took another step closer. Just a shuffle of his feet. The toes of his shoes nearly touched yours. 

“Don’t be afraid of it,” he advised. “Your power is part of you. If you accept it as such, it’ll yield itself quicker.” 

Another nod. Another blink. 

A gentle breeze brushed past you, wafting his scent through your senses. Pine and wood and parchment. Mint and a gentle kiss of cinnamon. 

You breathed again. 

Madja had stopped by to check on you later that afternoon, taking another sample of your blood and hair and asking an abundance of questions you did your best to answer. Your magic had not let her get very close and when she’d pierced your skin with the needle, it took every ounce of self-restraint to keep that power at bay. 

Even for just a few moments, it had exhausted you. 

Dinner had gone as well as it could. You’d sat at the furthest end of the table, Azriel close beside you but still allowing you some breathing space. 

You’d suggested it would be safer for Nyx not to attend, having no control over your power, you would not allow him to be in the same room as you. Not until you harnessed it more. 

Your magic flared up twice. Once when Lucien offered you a dish of potatoes. And again when Cassian laughed a little too loudly at something Rhys said. Vines had twisted their way around the legs of the table, creeping over the surface as they slithered to reach the Illyrian. 

Azriel placed a hand over yours, his eyes demanding your gaze. “It’s okay,” he reassured softly. And that power began to retreat. 

You offered Cassian an apologetic look, though you were certain the warrior was beginning to feel a little targeted. He’d brushed it off, waving a hand and stuffing another spoonful of potatoes into his mouth. 

As the night drew to a close, that familiar feeling of discomfort began to bubble in your stomach. The thought of going back to the House of Wind deflated you, suffocated you. 

Away from nature, it no longer at the tips of your fingers. You did not want to be confined to the House in the mountains, despite how much it had begun to feel like a home. 

Azriel must have noticed as such, because he titled his head to catch your gaze. “Would you like to stay at the townhouse tonight?”

Your eyes widened marginally. “Oh, no. It’s fine. I don’t want to intrude in anyone else's home.” 

Azriel’s brows furrowed. “You wouldn’t be intruding. Ever.” There was no room for discussion in his tone. He pulled back slightly, shrugging a shoulder. “Besides, it’s usually empty. I stay there when Nesta and Cassian are…louder than usual.”

A snort slipped past your lips at the innuendo and Azriel had to ignore the way it warmed something in his chest. You’d grown to learn just how loud your cousin and her mate could be. Perhaps the townhouse would be a sweet reprieve from that, too. 

Azriel watched the couple quietly, clearing his throat. “Plus, they’ve been drinking,” his voice lowered to a soft whisper, “I can promise you a restless sleep at the House tonight.” 

Another breathy laugh slipped off your tongue and Azriel’s eyes twinkled at the sound. Perhaps it was selfish of him to try and convince you to stay at the townhouse. With him and only him. But your power would not let others get closer to you, and he wanted to offer at least one night of peace and comfort. 

Especially after all you’d endured. 

You bid your family goodnight from a distance, Mor blowing kisses to you across the table and Rhysand reminding you to reach out if anything feels wrong. 

The walk from the Riverhouse to the townhouse was a short one, though you enjoyed it nonetheless. Walking beside Azriel as the moon lit your way was nothing short of beautiful, and you did not miss the way his shadows intertwined with your fingers. 

“Nuala and Cerridwen have brought some of your things to the townhouse,” Azriel said softly beside you, a lone shadow whispering in his ear. 

You offered him a grateful smile, making a mental note to thank the twins whenever you next saw them. Azriel’s lip quirked. “They’ve run you a bubble bath, too.”

Your smile stretched to a grin. 

By the time you reached the townhouse, you could smell the lavender oils the twins had used for your bath. Azriel led you into the foyer and a sense of warmth surrounded you. 

The townhouse was beautiful. Portraits and trinkets hung on the walls, soft glows of gold and greens as the lamps reflected off the plants. Thick but worn rugs on the floor. You took a breath, your shoulders relaxing. 

This felt like home. 

Azriel closed the door behind you both and his shadows slinked up the stairs and out of sight. He pressed a very gentle hand to the small of your back. “Come, I’ll show you to your room.” 

He guided you with that same hand just above your coxis, up the stairs and to the left and down the hall. It was a large landing, three or four doors that you could see on this side of the townhouse. You wondered how many other rooms were on the other side of the stairs. 

You followed the lavender trail, stopping short outside a door and Azriel turned the knob and pushed it open. This room was much smaller than yours at the House, but Gods was it cosy. 

A four poster bed in the centre of the room, two slim dressers either side, a high-back armchair in the corner with a little bookcase beside it. And to the left of that, was an open door that led to a private bathing chamber. 

You couldn’t help the smile that pulled on your lips. Nor could you help the feeling of comfort that blanketed you. 

Azriel cleared his throat. “I’ll let you bathe and get settled. My room is just opposite yours if you need anything.” He pointed to the door behind you both. 

You thanked him, watched him disappear into his own room before you closed the door and made your way to the bathroom. 

The water soothed every muscle in your body, seeping into your pores and nourishing your skin. A fresh night slip had been left folded on the counter by the sink, a new bamboo toothbrush and a small basket filled with your favourite moisturisers, oils and balms. 

After an hour of scrubbing and soaking, you dried and dressed, applied your creams and combed through your hair. It had been a long time since you’d taken such care of yourself, since you felt relaxed enough to take your time. 

You could not shake how much this townhouse felt like home to you. 

Scrunching your wet hair softly with a cotton towel, you padded into your bedroom when a knock sounded on the door. You didn’t need to open it to know who it was, Azriel had already informed you it would just be the two of you at the townhouse tonight. 

“Come in,” you called over your shoulder. 

But nothing could have prepared Azriel for what he walked into. Your back to him, your tiny night slip barely passing your ass, your wet hair pulled over your shoulder as he took note of your shoulder blades. 

Such a simple thing should not have affected him the way it did. His shadows pinched the mugs of tea from his hands and floated them to a nightstand, returning to their masters shoulders just as you turned to greet them. 

Azriel was no longer wearing his leathers, now adored in a pair of grey sweatpants and a dark blue knitted sweater. It was unusual to see him in something other than black, in something so relaxed. 

But Gods, was he beautiful. His hair was slightly damp and mussed from his own bath. He cleared his throat, pointing to the nightstand. “I brought tea.” Azriel was nervous, you could sense it. Smell it. 

He stood in the centre of the room, large wings tucked close to his back. You almost frowned at the sight and the comment slipped before you could stop it. “Do you feel uncomfortable around me?”

Azriel’s own brows pinched at that. “No, of course not. Quite the opposite, actually.” He tilted his head, taking a slow step forward. “Why?” 

A familiar surge of magic bubbled in the pit of your stomach. Not out of fear or anxiety, and it was not the same as before when it tried to protect you. No. This was different, this felt electric. Excited. 

You shrugged, jutting your chin to the dark membrane. “Your wings. They’re tight against your back.”

Azrie’s shoulders sagged slightly, a hint of a smile pulling at the corners of his full lips. But he couldn’t bring himself to admit he was uptight because your nipples were pearled and almost cutting through the very thin silk of your slip.

“You’re quite observant,” he noted, “I’m not uncomfortable around you, Y/N. I enjoy your company, your presence. I was trying to give you some space. This room isn’t very big, I didn’t want your power to feel suffocated.” 

Your head tilted at that. “You could never make me feel suffocated, Azriel. I enjoy your company and presence, too.”

His smile grew broader, a row of white teeth gleaming at you and you had no control when your face mirrored his. His heart thumped in his chest at the sight, at the way a sweet scent of lavender and jasmine wafted through the air. 

“You know that night…in the library?” Azriel did not need to ask to know which evening you were referring to. It took every ounce of self-control not to kiss you that night. Only for you to peck his lips in a hasty goodbye just two days later. 

He dipped his head in acknowledgement. 

Your brows furrowed just slightly. “You said you’d come to my room later so we could talk.” He nodded once more, his mind having already replayed every interaction he’d ever shared with you. 

“Can we do that now?” You fiddled with your fingers. “Talk, I mean. If you don’t have other commitments.”

Azriel would drop any prior engagements to spend the night with you. And by the way he gazed into your eyes, it was as though he was silently begging you to understand that. 

He did not need to speak or nod, for you only motioned to your bed and he got the hint. Azriel sat with his wings sprawled across the headboard.

He swallowed thickly, watching you tuck your legs beneath your body, the night slip doing very little to keep you covered. His mind would not stop racing, his shadows would not stop whispering. Dirty thoughts of what you were wearing beneath. If you were wearing anything at all. 

Azriel struggled to stifle his arousal. 

His shadows moved to reach you, caressing every inch of bare skin they could find. A giggle fell from your lips, warmth coating your flesh. 

Azriel could not help himself. “You’re so beautiful when you smile.”

Your grin grew, brows raising, eyes finally meeting his. “Only when I smile?” You teased, a newfound feeling of ease settling in every part of your body. 

He was pleasantly surprised by your response and dared lean a little closer. This was easy, talking with you. “You’re always beautiful. I’ve always thought so.”

You had expected a teasing retort back, not something so sincere and…well…romantic. Your smile faded slightly, a breath stuck in your throat. You swallowed around it. “You have?” 

Azriel nodded. You took in a breath, allowing him to reach for you. His wings spread behind him, drooping just enough to show he did, indeed, feel relaxed around you. He reached for you, tucking hair behind your now pointed ear. 

Your soul began to hum, content and blissful under Azriel’s keen but gentle touch. No male had ever called you beautiful before. No male had ever looked at you the way he was. As though he was besotted, as though he had never seen anything so wonderful in his life before. 

“I had every intention of coming to you that night.” His voice was rough, his tone gentle. It scratched an itch somewhere deep in your core. “Had Rhys not sent me on that mission, I would’ve been there, I would have told you.”

“Told me what?” you breathed. 

He swallowed, his scarred hand cupping the soft skin of your jaw as his thumb smoothed over the apple of your cheek. It took everything in you to fight the fluttering of your eyes. 

“That no matter how hard I try, I can’t stop thinking about you. The moment you crossed that wall, you consumed every part of me.” 

Your breathing staggered, your core pulsed. 

“I know you’ve only been here a short time, but I can no longer pretend that I’m not drawn to you. That I don’t crave your touch.” Shadows slinked your skin again, curling at the nape of your neck and imitating a scratching at your scalp. 

Your lips parted, chest heaving. Azriel’s eyes fluttered closed at the scent that oozed from you. Sweet arousal consumed him, dared to drag him under. 

He loosed a breath. “You have no idea what you do to me.” 

Your body felt like it was on fire, an excitement you had never once felt before. Your chest ached, your thighs trembled. And you knew if you parted your legs, you’d find a pool of wetness dribbling from your core.

No part of you felt guilty for it. No part of you tried to deny your body what it craved. Your soul sung to his, your body shifting closer. His hand on your face trailed down to caress your neck, lower to graze your collarbone, then lower again to skim over the marred flesh of your mark. 

Your eyes fluttered closed, a shaky breath sounding from you. You wanted him, needed him. That power surged in the pit of your stomach, desperate. You breathed deeply, the air thicker than before, and full of something you had never once scented. 

It was Azriel’s scent, only stronger. A raw and unfiltered scent that stirred the coil in your gut. Eyes fluttering open, they landed on his lap—on the girth that grew beneath the grey of his sweatpants. 

You swallowed thickly, chest heaving. You began to stir, hips shifting and brows knitted. “Az…” You were breathless, almost panting and his jaw clenched. 

“It’s okay,” he ground out. His fingers toyed with the thin strap of your slip, goosebumps erecting across your skin as his shadows caressed your arms and neck. Your head lulled to the side, eyes hooded. 

“Touch me,” you pleaded through a broken whisper. 

His jaw clenched again, his pupils blown and wings outstretched and tight. He did not move, did not look away. You reached for his wrist, daring to guide his hand over your full breast, over the perk of your nipple. 

A soft moan slipped past your lips. You had never felt arousal like it. Had never felt so needy that you’d resort to begging. Never had you expected to end up in such a state. You never had for Rafe. But this was Azriel. And everything about Azriel was intoxicating. 

With your hand over his, you encouraged him to grope you, to feel you. Azriel allowed you to guide him, would allow you to set the pace so long as you were comfortable and sure. So long as he made you feel good. 

The strap of your gown slipped down your arm, and you tugged the other down along with it. A low growl sounded from the back of Azriel’s throat. He was losing whatever control he had left. And you were desperate to see him snap. 

You shuffled closer on your knees, almost settling in his lap when you pulled his hand away from your breast and allowed the slip to fall past your chest, baring yourself to him. His eyes remained on yours, his chest rising and falling but you did not look away. 

If you want something, despite how wrong that desire may feel at first, take it.

But nothing about this felt wrong. No part of this felt like it wasn’t supposed to be. You did not feel unworthy beneath his gaze, you did not feel guilty for giving into your desires. 

Because the way Azriel looked at you, the way his gaze shifted to your chest, the way his eyes fluttered closed and he inhaled your arousal so deeply…you knew he wanted this just as badly as you did. 

With his eyes still closed, Aziel blindly reached for your hips and dragged you into his lap. A gasp escaped you, your legs parting to wrap around his waist and your soaked cunt sat over his throbbing cock. 

Your fingers tangled in his midnight hair, his head tilting as his breath ghosted your clavicle. Your nipples hardened, back arched. And he swiped his tongue over a pearled nub before suckling it into his warm mouth. 

You arched into him, tugging at his hair and rolling your hips against his. Azriel’s grip on your hips tightened, but he did not control you. He allowed you to move at your own pace, allowed you to decide how far you wanted this to go. 

You tugged at his hair, beckoning him to look at you. He pulled off your breast, eyes blown with a look of undeniable hunger. You stared at him for a moment, basked in his dark gaze and the feel of him pulsing beneath you. 

The weight of your position did not feel heavy, you did not want to stop. But you did not want to rush. You wanted to savour this—him. You wanted to take your time, wanted to understand how sex and intimacy was supposed to feel like. 

And Azriel could read as much in just your eyes alone. He leaned close, noses brushing as his lips ghosted yours. “I don’t need to use my cock to bring you pleasure,” he whispered, enveloping your lips in a searing kiss. 

Azriel’s hands travelled from your hips, up your waist and to your chest, kneading your breasts and pinching at your nipples. You hummed into his mouth, allowing his tongue to massage yours. 

“Let me show you how good it can be. How it’s supposed to feel.”

Your brain felt like it was overgrown in blooms, unable to do anything but nod and hand him the reins. Your magic grew excited, flora sprouting in your damp hair with every kiss he littered down your jaw and neck. 

“Turn around for me.” Azriel helped guide your body to how he wanted you, sat between his parted legs, your back to his chest and his lips breezing against the shell of your ear. 

“Good girl.” 

You were royally fucked. 

He let his hands travel down your covered stomach, fingers reaching for the soft skin of your thighs. You welcomed every touch, basked in the rough skin of his scarred hands. You could hardly breath, so pent up in anticipation. 

Azriel nipped at your ear. “Can you spread your legs for me, baby?” 

A pathetic mewl sounded from your throat and you found yourself nodding obediently and spreading your thighs for him. Azriel’s shadows wrapped around your thighs, down your legs and ankles and slithered back up again. A few rushed back to him, whispering their findings to their master. 

Dripping. Excited. Delicious. 

Azriel took a laboured breath to steady himself, his cock pressing into your ass. He let his hands grip your waist, fingers reaching the hem of your slip and bunching it in a strong fist.

He pulled it away, exposing your sopping heat and your head lulled back against his shoulder. “Can I touch you?” You nodded before he even finished his question, your legs spreading wider for him. 

Azriel snuck a hand between your thighs, cupping your sex as your arousal coated him. His deft fingers rubbed teasingly through your slick folds, spreading the wetness across your entire cunt. 

A shuddered breath escaped you. “Please.” 

With clenched teeth, Azriel appeased you, reaching up to your clit and pressing the pad of his middle finger against it. A gasp slipped from your mouth, his finger rubbing right circles on that puffy bud. 

Rafe had never once touched your clit. 

Your hips bucked into his hand and Azriel began to rub faster. But it wasn’t enough. The pressure built in your lower stomach, a feeling only you had been able to get yourself to, and even then never passed. 

Azriel could sense your need and replaced his finger with his thumb and reached lower. A single digit probed your fluttering hole, swirling in arousal before slowly sinking between your walls. 

You hummed in pleasure, eyes closing as he curled his finger against a spongy spot. Your hips rolled, chest heaving. You had never felt anything so exhilarating in your life. Azriel added a second finger, stretching your cunt deliciously. 

“Gods, Az…” you couldn’t find the words to describe what he was doing to you—how he was making you feel. He hummed, nuzzling his nose up your neck and latching his lips to your jaw; kissing and licking and biting. 

“You’re so beautiful, Y/N. Look how well you’re taking me.”

Azriel’s praise went to your head, your heart, your cunt. You could feel him everywhere. Shadows pinched at your nipples, Az’s hand working tirelessly against your core. Your hips rolled to meet his movements, your legs shook as he curled and scissored. 

You had never imagined it to feel this way. 

You rolled your head back, lips parted as you blindly searched for his. Azriel met you in a searing kiss, his tongue licking the insides of your mouth as you fought to meet his pace. 

Then the shaking started, and the small whimpers and moans turned to cries as you bucked against him. Azriel only kissed you harder, fucked you harder. The sound of his fingers pummeling your cunt were obscene, wet and loud and spurring you toward the edge. 

Your stomach pinched, coiled. A wave of uncontrollable pleasure and power coursed through your very being as you cried out into his mouth. Azriel did not relent his pace, did not offer a moment's reprieve. 

He worked you through it, pumping and pinching, sucking and biting. That tight rope in your abdomen snapped, your jaw slacking and eyes rolling to the back of your head. 

Azriel watched as you came around his fingers, his own release coating his pants as you clenched around him and cried and thrashed. He had never seen anything so fucking beautiful before in his life. 

Your chest heaved, legs trembling. And a flurry of petals rained down on your bodies, clinging to the sheen of sweat on your skin. Azriel reluctantly removed his hand, guiding fingers to his mouth to finally reward himself with a taste. 

He regretted it the moment he did it. Because now he did not know how to live without that taste on his tongue for the rest of his life. His cock hardened again at the thought of tasting you properly. 

Azriel gazed down at you, fluttering lashes and flushed skin. You were catching your breath, unable to speak a coherent sentence. He leaned down to kiss your mouth slowly, your lips mirroring his. You could taste yourself on his tongue and it only made you crave it once more. 

“You doing okay?” He asked gently. 

You hummed, chasing his lips when he tried to pull away. Azriel chuckled at your eagerness, he’d given you a taste and now you were hungry for more. 

“Not tonight,” he told you. 

You couldn’t help the frown, but Azriel planted a kiss to your brow and rested his forehead on yours. 

“I don’t want you to rush yourself into these things. You have consumed me, Y/N. There’s no rush. We have all the time in the world.” 

A tether tugged at your soul, so light you almost missed it. But your magic had responded, wrapping itself around that thin piece of string and humming in approval. 

“You have no idea how scared I was when we found you in the mountains,” he whispered solemnly. “I thought you were gone.” 

You strained your neck to look at him, at the silver that lined those molten honey eyes. Your hand reached for his face, fingers gently striking the stumbled skin of his cheek. 

“I’m okay,” you reassured him. “Different, now…yes. But this is who I’m supposed to be. I have to believe the Mother intended for it to be this way.”

He hummed, and that feeling tugged slightly once more—a little harder this time. Your gut, most likely, butterflies. 

“I won’t let you do something so foolish again.” 

Your head fell back against Azriel’s chest, his shadows working to cover your exposed body again before they tugged the blanket over you. 

And there, in his arms, you became someone else. Someone you were always fated to be. 

a/n: okay so i got slightly carried away with the teasing between az and y/n so it ended up a bit longer that the other parts BUT the next part is a very big one and potentially the last :(((( but even if it is, i have some ideas to do some check in fics with them in the future!

if you enjoyed it, please consider giving it a like and reblog, your feedback is always appreciated <3

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[miniscrew-anon]

hwehwehwehwehwe spooder

——

“Do you want me to leave and never come back? Is that what you want, huh? To be alone with that freak of nature instead of me?”

“You’re the only freak of nature here.” Four answered bluntly, eyes never straying from his work. He was very pointedly ignoring Shadow’s usual dramatics. Which Shadow would normally not mind. That was kind of their thing.

Except this time his drama is completely justifiable and not at all exaggerated.

Because there is a spider on the ceiling.

Shadow scowls from the other side of the garage, eyes flickering up and down between Four and their eight-legged company, barely able to risk looking away lest the creature make a run for it. “You meant to tell me that thing is normal? It’s huge! It’s big enough to eat you! Which, granted, isn’t saying much-“

“It’s a normal, non-venomous species native to this region.” Four gives him the stink-eye. “You just haven’t seen any because you don’t go outside-“

“Are you saying I don’t touch grass?”

“-and these types don’t normally live inside houses because they’re too big to fit through the normal small cracks and openings.”

Shadow blinks at him. “Okay, do you not hear how terrifying that is? These guys don’t normally live inside because they’re too big?? Are you trying to convince me turn to burn the house down? Did you get put on the insurance policy or something?”

“I’m pretty sure deliberate arson voids most home insurance policies.”

“I wouldn’t put it past your landlord to have special insurance. He seems like the kinda guy who someone would love to set on fire.” Shadow responds. His neck isn’t starting to develop a crick because he won’t look away from the monstrosity above them. “Would you just kill it already? Or move and let me do it?”

There’s gotta be a long distance weapon he can use somewhere around here; a can of Raid, or a shotgun.

Four just calmly blows from wood shavings off his latest project. “No. I’m not letting you climb on my desk. Leave it alone. It’s just a spider.”

“It’s a pest!”

“No, you’re a pest.” Four corrects. “Just ignore it. It’s a good bug.”

Shadow scoffs. “There’s no such thing as a ‘good bug’. That’s a lie spread by Big Bug. They’re all gross and ugly and need to get wiped from Farore's green earth. How can you just sit there while that thing is right above your head?! What if it falls on your head? Or you get stuck in its web?”

The spider was scarily large, thick and spindly and terrifying. And it has made its home in the rafters of the garage, directly above Four’s workbench where Shadow would normally loiter. But with the danger of a dangling creepy crawly, Shadow won’t even cross the room.

That little fucker is taking his spot.

“Good bugs do exist. They act as a natural population control to other bugs that are much more annoying-” Four gives Shadow a very pointed look, who responds with a Who? Moi? “-And the spider isn’t going to come down. It’s comfortable where it is. Just pretend it’s not there.”

“But I know it’s there! I can’t not look! What if it moves?” Shadow laments.

“Oh no. The horror.”

Shadow grumbles. Clearly he wasn’t going to find any sympathy here.

Logically he knows Four’s right - that creepy crawly wasn’t going to be moving. He should be fine to approach. So he swallows his fear and creeps forward, doing his best to ignore the menace above his head. He nearly gets within arms reach of Four’s table when paranoia shoots down his spine.

“Nope!” Shadow leaps back, He looks up - phew, still there and not dangling an inch above his head. “No no Nope. Fuck this. I can’t do it. I’ll be in your room. Call me after you squish that fucking thing.”

Four watches Shadow slink you the stairs, dejected that his nonsense was stopped before it even began. He glances upward to his eight-legged roommate, who was so innocently waiting for his next meal.

Pest control indeed.

——

Which Links are unbothered by bugs and which ones scream for another Link to come save them?

~🐹

Time - Dislikes spiders for the fact that they'll catch fairies in their webs. Kills on sight, no mercy.

Twilight - Twi is team "gently scoop into a cup and place back outside." Farm living has desensitized him to all things creepy and crawl-ey. He definitely ate a bug on a dare when he was a kid and promptly got an upset stomach.

Wild - Shrieks for someone, anyone to come take care of whatever creeper has entered his bedroom.

Champion - Could not be bothered less. Will coexist with spiders without blinking an eye. The world is full of much more horrific horrors.

Warriors - Nope. No. N- fuck, no. He will give all bugs a wide berth as he sneaks around them in the bathroom to grab his hair straightener/dryer/towel and call for Sky immediately.

Sky - He was the most adorable awkward terrible-at-catching-bugs bug catcher as a kid. He'd run in circles swatting that net around and catching fuck-all. He's also not terribly good at it as an adult; he'll come in with a shoe or a swatter and usually miss by a mile while the bug toddles off in the opposite direction, setting his terrified roommate screaming while he's red-faced and trying to squish the damn thing eighty times. (Unless Twi comes in to intervene.)

Four - Sees no difference between his two-legged and eight-legged roommates. So long as the spiders stay out of his work and out of his hair, he's chill. They keep the flies down when he's got the garage door open.

Legend - Gets quietly creeped out by things that creep and crawl. He'll stare and be avoidant, but he will do his best not to squish. Not unless they touch him. Then it's no holds barred.

Hyrule - No surprise that our fastidious little doctor abhors all things buggy. He'll quietly come find someone braver than himself to take care of the six- or eight-legged menace. During a demonstration of medical leeches he once nearly fainted.

Wind - You'll know he's located a bug in his room by the war cry. He usually chooses something large and unwieldy to squish with - gods forbid he dirties a sneaker - and you can hear him smashing that metal trash can or discarded box all over his room in epic futility.

Dark - Who else is he going to talk to on those long, lonely nights? He had a spider for a cellmate and talking to it helped Dark keep his grip on sanity while he was in solitary. Judges people who squish spiders.

Shadow - NOOOOOOOONONononononono. He's one of the only civilized Links-adjacent who has bug baits in his apartment to keep them out. If he sees a spider it's squish-spray-sanitize in less than a minute. Shadow may be a skrunkle but he is fastidious.

Ravio - His shriek can shatter glass.

[yandere-sins]

Monstober - Day 5: Naga/Lamia [Elemental Sacrifices Part 1/4]

I am fashionably late and since this story was supposed to come out on my birthday I switched the prompts since we all know Nagas are my roman empire, hehe >:3

Also this is part 1 of 4 of a little mini-series happening in this Monstober Challenge, and I will lovingly call it the Elemental Sacrifices. I know we already had a sacrifice before, but what if—hear me out—we have 4 more? Yes, I thought that was a good idea too, glad we agree :D

(They are not much related aside from the concept, but they are in the same universe, so maybe there's some potential for future ideas! :D)

Prompt: Day 6: Naga/Lamia | Scales // Wrapping around // Poisonous Warnings: Yandere, AFAB!Reader, Sexual Actions (Dub-Con, Use of Aphrodisiac, Drinking said Aphrodisiac and getting it stabbed into your arm, Deep Kissing, Accidentally cutting your own tongue, Fingering), Violence (Biting with fangs, Description of (meager) fighting, Cutting the enemy, Blood mention), Monsters + Descriptions of Monsters, Light self-degradation, Long Post

The tradition had always existed.

From the moment you were born, you were told about the sacrifices made to the four gods, which took place twice a century. The four tribes would unite in peace and unity for this month of reverence, choosing their sacrifices carefully and laying down their weapons to organize and strategize the ceremonies so that no god would feel aggrieved. It was a wonder that people that worshipped different things, lived by different means, and usually clashed like hot and cold, light and shadow, could work together meaningfully to pay their respects, assure that everyone would continue to be in the favor of the different gods that roamed the lands you lived on.

And yet, somehow, it had always worked out.

"There, almost done," your mother mumbled, curling your still-damp hair around her finger so it would frame your face. You clenched your fists in your lap as you sat in front of the mirror, unable to even look at yourself without retching. 20 years ago, when you were told the stories for the first time, no one had assumed you'd be the one to be sacrificed in the next ceremony. No one informed you that your days were numbered, your purpose to be nothing but monster fodder.

Because that's what they were, monsters, nothing more, nothing less.

A two-headed snake, an ancient tree, a tentacled beast, and a fire-spewing reptile with wings—those were the four monsters you and the other tribes worshipped with offerings and sacrifices. All your life, you practiced the mindful handling of the teachings, learning how to hunt, fight, and serve your god. But even so, just because you were born the child of the leader, you were going to be discarded by your own people, and your hatred was as fiery as the vulcanos that surrounded your homeland.

"I heard the water tribe sends their most wonderful singer this year, too."

It was a frail attempt at small talk, and you couldn't care less about how pleased your mother sounded as she told you about the other sacrifices. The other poor souls that probably wanted nothing more than to run away about now. You had hidden your tears very well with your head hung low, but you couldn't imagine the other sacrifices felt any less miserable as you did.

You had plans for the future, plans that involved leading this tribe and creating a family sometime. Maybe participate in a war with the other tribes and show off the prowess of the fire tribe leader's oldest child. It was in the nature of your people to be strong and powerful, as was the exceptional artistry of the water people.

"And the earthclan sends another one of their scholars. I don't understand why they think the nature gods would like all these people hiding with their noses in their books, but I'm sure they have their reason for choosing them. Oh, but the wind people are also sending their ruler's child, just like you!"

A tone of pride swung in her voice as she continued arranging vividly red flowers like a crown in your head, pulling at strands of your hair to wrap them into the stems so they'd hold. "And yet, you'll make the prettiest sacrifice of them all. You'll make us all so proud!"

Inside of you, a war broke loose. A war you knew you couldn't win as you knelt on the floor of your childhood home, the place you always thought safest in all of the lands, yet it was no longer the place you'd return to after this expedition. All your good deeds and all your achievements were for naught because when the announcement was sent out that the sacrifice was going to be held that year, it ended your life instantly.

A part of you knew it could happen. Although you never wished this fate on anyone, you had always hoped for a sibling, born or adopted into your family, that could take this responsibility from you ever since you learned of it. Other tribes voted. They chose by luck or by skill at the time of sacrifice. But not yours. Yours had traditions, which meant the leader's strongest family member would go to the gods and ask for their blessings. Get eaten in exchange for a promise of safety and prosperity that the monsters could easily break on a whim. Returning would mean the blessing failed, so that wasn't an option. If you couldn't appease them alive, you would do it with your death. The ultimate sacrifice.

"Now, you're perfect. Look at you, my pretty child."

Pushing her fingertips into the underside of your jaw, your mother forced you to look up into the mirrors. Tears tumbled from your eyes as your head snapped upwards to avoid the discomfort of her nagging touch, and you watched her expression fall in her reflection. Not from sorrow, mind you, but anger.

"This is your duty," she reminded you. "Now that you have grown up and proved your worth, you should feel honored to be chosen."

You bit your tongue, swallowing the disrespect you wanted to voice. You couldn't care less about the sacrifice, about gaining the ire of some monster that some old people had decided to worship. About your mother's opinion or that of anyone else!

Deep inside you, you were afraid. Fear, first and foremost, had always been your teacher. It showed you the boundaries of your abilities and pushed you to perform deeds beyond your capabilities in times of need. It wasn't something to be ashamed of or scolded for; it was natural and normal.

But right behind it was anger. Anger at this tradition, anger at your family, and anger at the monsters for demanding lives in exchange for peace. Gods they called themselves, but there was nothing godly about how they conducted their demands. They were cowards with a taste for human blood, and instead of fighting and being slain by those humans, they demanded sacrifices to satisfy their hunger.

And there was nothing you could do to save yourself.

If you rebelled, you'd be dragged out by your limbs and hair, even if that destroyed the work they put into prettying you up. Who needed to be pretty when they'd be eaten alive? Still, as a warrior at heart, you couldn't imagine a greater shame than to force your friends to bring you to that dreadful sacrificial space, even if they might think it was for the greater good. If you had to go out, you wanted to do so with your head held high, no matter how foolish that pride of yours was. It was better than to put your unfair death entirely into the hands of others.

If you were going to be a martyr, then you'd at least die fighting until your last breath.

---

"That's far enough," you announced, coming to a halt at the edge of the lush green forest you used to hunt in. Before you, vulcanic stone spread in dark hues as far as you could see. Ash filled the air, mixed with the taste of metal and fire. Nothing grew on the stone ground, it was as welcoming as a death threat. Veins of red broke through the stone, leading to pools of lava that was cooking beneath the stone surface, the air simmering from the heat that immediately greeted you, coating your skin in a sheen of sweat. Once you had found the duality of this place beautiful. Now you dreaded it, hands curled into fists as you took slow, steady breaths to calm yourself.

"I wish to face the gods myself."

"Go forth then. Make us proud," your father expressed, resting his hand on your shoulder. A simple squeeze was all you got, and much like your mother who hugged you before your departure, their gestures were too brief to be any comfort. You wondered how they could have possibly come to terms so quickly with losing their own child when you, the one to be sacrificed, were struggling with your fear and pride.

Every step on the hot floor was like a stab of a knife in your back. The hunting party that had accompanied you watched as you continued your journey towards the sacrificial space the ancestors had created, their gazes like whips that spurred you on. But they didn't linger. Since they didn't have to tie you down on the altar, they had no reason to watch the gruesome death of their own kind, knowing that either way, you weren't going to return. You knew the way back to your village like the inside of your pocket, years of roaming the jungles teaching you how to go home. But they'd kill you before you cursed the village with your failure to be sacrificed. Merciless, cold. You were no longer a part of them. You were a meager part of the tradition now.

However, the way to the altar was actually more of a challenge than going home. You had only been there once as a child, laying flowers down for your uncle, who had been the last sacrifice years before your birth. Your father may have called him your uncle, but it turned out he was an adopted orphan who ended up paying for his dedication to your family much later. Your father seemed unsympathetic towards him, but it dawned on you that he must have never been close to this brother of his, probably knowing the fate that awaited him.

You never knew your uncle, but back then, you had been proud of him, too.

That day was also the first time your father explained the traditions and the importance of keeping them up. How much honor it brought to your family and how many lives it saved to lose one person. You wondered why, after he taught you so many skills, worked so hard to make you a respected member of your tribe, and loved you like a father would, he could so easily send you to your death. But it slowly dawned on you what kind of person your father was. One that didn't truly cared for his "family", only for his own pride and gains. And you had been so easily fooled as to believe him all this time.

It took you much longer than you remembered, but eventually, you reached the grounds your ancestors had created for this spectacle. It was close to the foot of the volcano, an altar erected from the stone sprouting from the ground with nothing else present in this wasteland. The heat had increased substantially over time, every breath burning in your lungs, your eyes dry, and your feet chafed from walking over the smoldering stone for so long. Dread was no longer a constant companion as acceptance slowly crept into your mind. You had seen the bones of many humans on the way to this place. Apparently, not everyone had been so lucky to have made it this far, either the environment or the monster killing them before they reached the altar. Or maybe themselves, now that you thought about it.

The sight of the raised altar forced a shuddering breath out of your lungs, the stinging sensation barely enough to distract you from the blaring truth. You were going to die. One way or another, you would. Touching the side of your leg, you felt the leather holster beneath your dress. The dagger you sneaked would probably not be enough to kill the monster, if there ever was one. Still, if you could inflict some damage to it, perhaps your tribe would one day snap out of the trance that it was this immortal threat that your ancestors appeased by offering their own children to it. Maybe they'd see the wounds and realize they didn't have to cower in fear of it, and thus, maybe your sacrifice would not be in vain.

Brushing your hand over the warm stone, you felt an untypical cold shudder run down your spine, knowing it was meant to be your deathbed. You wondered how many before you had laid here, waiting for the monster to come. How many had prayed, hoped, and begged to be saved, and how many had fought and struggled like you were going to. Following in their footsteps now, you knew they did what they thought was their best. That was the greatest honor you could bestow on them.

You hoisted yourself up, struggling to climb on top of the massive stone slab, before you sat close to the edge and stretched out your legs, feeling the burned and chafed soles of your feet crack as they finally got some rest. Hissing, you were confronted with the pain, yet you only sighed, swiping your hands over your face to free you of the sweat that was desperately trying to cool you down. Even if you were used to the warmer temperature of your home, it was nothing against the volcanic heat, and you almost admired it for burning for so long, never bothered by anyone. The air was as heavy as your soul felt, trapped in your body and scared to the heavens.

Imagining the snake did very little to soothe your mind, but you still tried to prepare for the shock its sight undoubtedly would be. You imagined a snake as tall as a building, with two heads splitting apart at one end. Heads with sharp fangs and venom dripping out of their mouths, eyes that ate you up before their maw even got close to you. It would slither over the ground, nimble, avoiding the lava pools, but too large to hide behind the wasteland it reigned over. Bloodlust urging it on as it smelled the sweet fragrance of the flowers on your head, which were delighted to bloom in the warm temperatures. A green tail? Brown? Perhaps a little of both? Maybe its scales were dark red like all the blood it drank from the sacrifices.

"Look at that, they do sacrifice their own kind."

Deep in thought, the heat probably having gone to your head, you hadn't noticed the chafing sound that slithered closer from behind. Only when someone suddenly spoke did your mind alert you of the danger, and you jumped down from the altar, swiftly spinning around and bracing yourself. One hand hovered over your dagger beneath your dress, and the other arm stayed defensively in front of you. With the distance you managed to jump and the massive altar separating you from the monster, you were at a surprising advantage, and it felt good to have the upper hand.

Your eyes widened at the sight of two men standing behind the altar, one of them leaning down on the stone surface right next to where you had sat. In contrast, the other stood straight with his arms behind his back, but both watched you with burning intensity. Immediately, you noticed their similar appearances, the light grey hair falling from their heads, bound by braids, and still with countless strands falling over their exposed chests. Their eyes were like marbles, reflecting the different colors of the area in them, elongated pupils slightly vibrating as they fixated over and over on you. But what really put you off was their size. Their legs must have been easily as tall as the altar, and that was no size a normal human should have had.

"Mother never told us sacrifices were this cute."

The man leaning on the table rolled over on his side, his hair splaying all over the altar in waves. And yet, even while moving, his gaze never trailed off—but yours did. You let out a horrified gasp as the scaled tail of a snake buckled and arched to accommodate the man's movements, and with a surprised jolt, he reared upwards, exposing even more of the tail that started at his hips.

A moment of silence washed over you three, and you felt incredibly exposed and stared down by two pairs of eyes as if they were pinning you into place. Willing you to not move a muscle, to be eaten without putting up a fight. No one said anything before the startled man laughed out loudly, shaking his head and holding his belly before slapping his free hand attention-seekingly against his companion's arm.

"That scared me," he chuckled. "I've never heard that kind of sound before."

The other man let out a hum of agreement, nodding his head before looking back at you. You were at a clear disadvantage, unsure where to look first and who to focus on, as you were outnumbered by the two. The one that kept talking was smaller than the other, although this could have been the heat playing tricks on you. Both were muscular, but he was less refined than his almost-twin. You wagered you could take him on if there wasn't a scaley tail winding from his hips. That would be additional weight you couldn't topple, no matter how much you playfighted the other hunters and warriors of your tribe, which sometimes outdid you in terms of weight and size.

The quieter one, on the other hand, had the typical looks of a working man in the village: big arms coming from a strong back and toned muscles that the woman would drool over, while the other seemed fit and nimble. But your eyes unwillingly focused on the tail as the two scaled the altar, moving forward oddly in sync until it became clear why.

Their two strands of tails flowed together between them into one massive one.

It was mesmerizing, you had to admit, the scales an iridescent white. But whenever the tail moved, it took on the hues of the land, grey and red, only to return to their original color as it wound itself. You were awestruck and panicked at the same time, as the tail seemed to be neverending, wrapping around the altar, finding hold on the stony ground that even your feet struggled with. Fear filled you as you watched their slithering movements, the mistake in your thinking now glaringly clear: The monster existed, and it had come for you.

"Y-You're the monster!" you screamed, and the smaller one of the two scrunched up his nose, taking offense. The white scales swept over the altar, landing in the space between you and the stone with a heavy thud. His body was barely shaken by the impact, so perfectly in balance with itself despite their unnatural split into two different entities, and the seriousness of the situation rained down on you like their sharp gazes as you realized there would be no chance of you overpowering either of them.

Even with their connection, they spread out too far to reach both simultaneously. They could still move independently, even if their range was limited to what their body could give. But even without them rearing up on the tail, they were almost two heads taller than you were. They knew their body better than anyone, and you didn't doubt they had some tricks up their non-existing sleeves to best you.

Biting your lip, you finally slipped your hand beneath your dress, never letting the monster—monsters—out of your sight. To your surprise, you watched their gazes slip to where you raised the fabric, observing you with curious intention, their split tongues slipping out from their lips, tasting the air as they ogled at your exposed thigh.

Your hand curled around the grip of your dagger, and the moment you pulled it from its holster, the snakes lept forward. There was no time to be proud of yourself, but your reaction was immaculate. You jumped back just in time to avert the nimble one's grabby hands, even drawing blood as your blade slit open the skin between his thumb and pointer finger.

However, as fast as you dealt with one of the snakes, you couldn't recover quickly enough to avoid the second pair of hands. Much like you anticipated, their range was too extensive to fight both of them at once, and although you ducked beneath one hand of the stronger monster, his second hand latched on, right in your hair. You watched as the red petals of the flower crown loosened and swayed in the air like a sad veil of defeat.

Your head was yanked back, and you acted quickly, directing the knife towards the unprotected free shoulder, somewhere that would hurt. Somewhere that would leave a visible scar and show everyone that these monsters could be injured. But a bloody grip around your wrist prevented you from pushing the dagger into the creature's partially scaled bodies, your hopes crumbling into ash.

"You good?" the more muscular man asked, and the other clicked his tongue in annoyance while you flailed and struggled in their grip. Your free hand was useless as you couldn't even reach forward enough, and so were your legs as you stood on your tiptoes while they yanked you around.

The latter lifted the hand that was holding your wrist to his mouth, licking up the blood that spilled from the cut on his as he maintained eye contact. You bared your teeth in both pain and defiance, not showing any of the miserable fear and panic you felt inside. You didn't manage to do what you came here for, and you felt the power surging through their bodies just from their hands on you. The failure gnawed at your determination, the fight as good as lost.

"We're not monsters," he hissed, glowering at you, although it looked more like a pout. "But you sure are quick on your feet."

Their comments should not have caused your heart to swell with pride, but hearing it from the monster you swore to hurt in exchange for your life did feel good.

"Surely you wish you'd have gotten an easier meal, monster! But I won't go down until I have shown everyone that you can be wounded and defeated! That you will bleed if the people unite! There will be no more sacrifices once they've seen what I did to you!"

"We're not monsters!" they repeated in unison before exchanging a brief glance with each other.

"Well, I won't call you god and beg for your mercy!" you spat, and the lips of the snake with your hand in his grip curled into a grin.

"Are you sure about that?"

With his blood coating your hand, he raised it way over your head, causing you to gasp as your whole body strained to accommodate the movement. His hand slipped upwards, a few fingers holding you in place, while some snaked between your palm and the knife in your grasp, prying your hold from it inch by inch. You let out a soft whine as the leather grip was torn from you and watched the metal clatter to the ground.

But you didn't have the time to mourn the loss of your only weapon, not when your arm was bent backward. Immediately, your free hand shot up, trying to dig your nails into the fingers wrapped around your wrist still.

That was your greatest mistake. With his free hand, the quiet monster immediately reached for both of yours, wrapping them in his palm as quickly as their tail could around your body.

You were kept on your tiptoes as you felt the scales of said tail slither over your skin. Creeping beneath your soles and running up your ankles, squeezing the flesh of your shins firmly together before wrapping around each thigh individually. You kicked and squirmed, but their tail was almost as unrelenting as their hands, and you involuntarily winced as your wrists were squeezed together as if tied by a rope.

"It's true we are not the monster you're trying to defeat," the leaner one claimed again, licking his wound like an injured animal.

"That's our mother," his brother explained curtly, and your head whirled around to him, the questions etched into your face.

"Look at us; we're only half the snake she is."

With an exasperated huff, you looked back and forth between the two, reeling at the revelation. "That's not possible! You... you are a snake with two heads. It's exactly as it's told in our stories!"

"They're not wrong..."

"I mean, she is a literal snake with two heads. And she's gigantic. You should be glad she didn't find you first, or you'd be even less than a small snack for her."

"And our dad is human. Like you."

You must have looked rightfully befuddled as the two went back and forth on their explanation, but once they were done, you could only gulp, unsure what to make of the situation. "So... you're not the monster that demands sacrifices?"

"No."

"Not really."

"Then..." It was hard to form the words that zapped through your mind, your mouth suddenly feeling dry again as the adrenaline sifted from your blood flow. Nothing could rationalize this situation, and you were still strung up by their hands and tail. This almost felt too good to be true, so you had to take your chance as long as you could. "You'll let me go?"

A moment of silence hung over all three of your heads before the brothers slowly ripped their gazes off you to exchange sly smirks. You wobbled as their body—and by extension, yours—set into motion, slithering back to the altar until you were sat down, your back forced to rest on the stone like a lamb to slaughter, hands hanging over the edge above your head and legs still wrapped by their tail.

"Oh, you can't just leave," the lean one purred, coming up from below you and planting his clawed hands firmly on either side of your arms. "The nights get so cold, and the days are so lonely with our mom busy occupying our dad. She never lets us play with him or come back to our home. Won't you keep us company for a while longer? I'm sure you can teach us some things, and we can teach you."

The other settled on the opposite side, still holding your hands in place as he grunted in agreement. You felt the bile rise in your throat as one touch slipped below your line of sight, claw-like nails raking up your thigh and moving beneath your dress. Their intentions got more apparent as the fabric was gripped from above, too, slowly, sensually raising over your skin until the hip strap of your underwear was revealed.

In a last-ditch effort, you tried to struggle once more, legs tugging upwards and kicking at the ever-winding tail while your hands twisted in their hold, causing it to crush down onto your bones even more. That wasn't how you wanted to go down; it wasn't the fight to death you thought you'd have!

"End me, then. Get it over with," you yelled out, laying your head to the side and closing your eyes, the reality too hard to face. Sooner or later, you'd die anyway, and if this were the things you'd have to endure, you'd rather be dead. It wasn't the kind of sacrifice you wanted to be, one defiled and molested before you'd be killed, so you'd rather be dead than witness it.

"Hush now," someone murmured, and you felt a hand sweep underneath your chin, turning your head forward again before tugging it up and over the altar's edge. Your eyes snapped open as your instincts kicked in, but as you opened your mouth to scream, it was quickly covered by another.

A tongue slipped between your opened lips before you could close them, slashing around inside harshly and clogging your throat. There was too much to take, and you gulped down the wetness it brought, sloshing it everywhere to the point it dripped from your lips, running down your face that immediately heated up beneath the fluid. It tasted sweet and even when you wanted to stop, you couldn't, gulping down all that was given to you.

Your body began to relax while you felt a hand drive down the front of your torso, brushing an entire palm over your breast and getting stuck on your nipple. You jolted, a pang of electricity flying to your head and down your spine, your back arching as you couldn't understand what was going on anymore. You had never felt this sensitive before, and as the hand continued to roam from one side to the other, finding the budding nip beneath your dress and twisting it, you let out an unholy moan into the mouth of the monster, your own tongue lashing upwards until it got caught on a sharp fang. Despite not feeling it, you were pretty sure your tongue was ripped open, but even more of the sweet-tasting, addictive stuff dripped from the fang, gushing into your mouth. You gobbled it up, considering you had nothing to drink throughout your journey, and your mind was not getting enough of the taste.

"Considering how quickly you got hooked on our mating fluids, I'd not be surprised if you do end up calling us gods when we're done with you."

You barely heard the voice of the curious onlooker beyond your line of sight, your mind wholly crazed by the liquid that coated all of your mouth and senses. It took almost more work to extract the monster's tongue from your throat than it had putting it inside. Your head followed it upwards, unwilling to part while the drool kept dripping down onto your face.

As you were freed of the kiss, a shameful, miserable sigh of disappointment escaped you, and you barely regained the ability to reply, "Never," in response to what the snake had said. That caused both of them to chuckle, and the sound sent a core-clenching, spine-tingling warmth throughout your body. Your lips quivering as your mind begged for more of that deep rumble cursing through their bodies.

"We'll see about that," the monster from below mumbled as he raked his claws over your thigh. Immediately, you were jolting upwards in their hold, caught between pain and pleasure as he lightly scabbed your skin. It was a small revenge for his own wound, and the scratches burned deliciously as they welcomed the hot air all around you two. "You're already so wet for us."

"It's called sweat," you mewled defiantly, the sound of your voice not befitting your sarcasm. You clenched your legs together, but it was a vain effort with the tail still stuck above your knees, easily prying them open by driving upwards. The scales rubbing over your skin didn't help your misery at all, and you wanted to throw your head against a solid wall with how dizzy and needy you felt. It wasn't you on that altar, but a very distorted version of you, one that wanted to be fucked silly even though what you really wanted was a good fight.

The two laughed at your comment, and you moaned in annoyance at the electricity that sapped through you at the sound of their voices. Your head fell back over the edge, and you came face to face with the more muscular one of the brothers as he lowered himself to your eye level. His eyes raked over your face, then up to your exposed neck just waiting to be bit.

"You're so cute," he mumbled, split tongue darting out again, tasting the air. Your pussy clenched as you wished for that tongue back in your throat or, even better, caressing your quivering folds below that were begging for something to fill their loneliness. The experience was new to you, as you had never wanted intimacy like this with anyone before. You had been so focused on your goals and diligently upholding your parents' rules and traditions that you never craved anyone, but especially not these two beasts.

"I'm not cute," you mewled, closing your eyes and biting your lips as you felt the sharp claws hover above your abdomen, gently stroking the skin below your navel from side to side, your core clenching even harder with pure, undiluted desire. But when the fingers slipped beneath the rim of your underwear, you moaned as you expected them to dip into the wet mess that lay just beneath, the expectation almost enough to send you over the edge.

"Oh, yeah?" the snake-man grinned, and you felt one finger press into your slit, your folds welcoming it warmly and with a shudder going through your body. You quaked in pleasure, eyes blown wide open, and the two fangs of the monster were all more prevalent as his lips split into a toothy smile. "So cute," he doubled down, pulling your arms taut until your body stretched to the last of its capabilities.

With his lips gently brushing against your forearm, you were wholly unprepared for the sharp pain as he dug his fangs deep into your skin. But the shriek quickly turned into a moan, your hips grinding against the finger probing at your entrance as more of the aphrodisiac went straight into your bloodstream. You watched the dark fluid drip off your arm, causing even more heat to spread where it flowed, and you were mercilessly whining as you couldn't move your hips nearly enough to satisfy your needs.

"Please," you snapped upwards, staring at the creature settled on top of the altar next to you, leisurely rubbing his hand along your pussy.

"There goes the begging," he reminded you, and you bit your lip to the point of hurting yourself.

Fuck, that wasn't what you wanted to say. It wasn't how you wanted to die, you never intended to let it get this far. Pathetic, pathetic, absolutely pathetic. You were a fucking warrior, you fought threats and hunted prey, you were not going to surrender to them—

"Fuck!" you gasped out loud this time as one digit slipped inside you. You felt it hook inside your pussy, slowly dragging out despite being clung to firmly by your insides. All the faster did he push it inside again, every joint that buried inside you made you arch your back and rejoice. You nearly avoided being scratched open inside, purely by how slick your pussy and his hand were by now, more fluids gushing out as he pulled his finger from you again and again.

Simultaneously, another digit curled down, fondling the heated folds until it pressed down on your clit, forcing a mewl from you. Fangs tore out of your skin, but you barely noticed as the two fingers united, taking up more space inside of you and scissoring your walls apart until you felt your pussy gaping and drooling obscenely.

"I'll not... submit," you stammered between bated breaths. "I'll not... be your plaything."

"And we wouldn't want it any other way," they chimed in unison, exchanging a satisfied glance before grinning.

"Mom always said to look out for the feisty ones."

"We just didn't think you'd come to meet us so soon."

"Or that you'd be this fun to play with."

Your whole body shuddered as both fingers were pulled out of your terribly needy hole. Your breath was almost non-existent, the lack of air only stimulating you more as you heard the sloppy sounds of your wet pussy letting go of the monster's fingers. A hand slipped beneath your head, helping you to hold it up as you watched the leaner brother lifting his pointer and middle finger to his face, split tongue lapping out to taste your slick pulling strings in the gaps while maintaining eye contact with you all throughout it.

"They're perfect," he purred as he looked up, stretching his arm towards his brother, who leaned forward to have his taste of you from his brother's fingers.

"Damn, that's sweet," he commented too on your fluids, licking them from his lips as he looked down at you in a mix of surprise and awe.

"And so pretty, too."

You felt their eyes in the same way their claws had raked over your body. Hungrily, with the intention to harm you. And yet, your hole kept gaping, needing more stimulation, wanting more. You were the pitiful prey you kept denying you were, but it seemed that in their eyes, you were so much more than that.

"Our little fighter," the one at your side murmured, stretching upwards to hover beside your face.

"Are you not even finishing what you started?" you spit, your venom not nearly as effective when your voice sounded as if you were drugged and disgruntled.

"Oh, I will, little fighter. We're going to make sure you can take us before spreading you on our cocks and make you cry out in pleasure until you call us "god". But before that, you have to be good and let us take you to our nest. Bonding will take so much time, and you are much too vulnerable out here."

"Fuck you," you grunted, trying to elbow him, but your arm barely moved.

"Keep it up," he grinned. "Wouldn't want you to give up too easily. Breaking you in is part of the fun."

"You're a fucking monster after all."

The snakes hummed thoughtfully as you were finally pulled off the table. Instead of being dragged by your arms or wrapped in their tail, however, you were slung over the bigger brother's shoulder, feeling his hand immediately settle beneath your asscheek, not so subtly poking at your pussy with his claw.

"Let me go!" you demanded weakly, your sore hands pounding pitifully into his shoulder.

"And miss out on all this fun? I don't think so," the leaner brother answered.

"Mother told us you can't go back anyway," the one carrying you added, throwing salt into the wound. They were right, but that didn't mean you'd go down so easily, even if your legs were still quivering and your head throbbing with need. "They'll kill you on sight, won't they? And then they'll return you to the altar so we can eat you."

A hand clasped around your jaw, claws digging into your cheeks as your head was lifted to face the leaner brother. "You know we prefer a different taste," he grinned, and you felt your anger rise again together with the shame of his implication. Collecting your saliva and some of the residues of the aphrodisiac, you spit them into his face, not caring whatsoever what that meant for you.

The snake-man scrunched up his face, quickly wiping it away. "Save your drool," he snarled, and you grinned victoriously despite the clasp he held your face in.

But as if on cue, a large palm flattened against your ass, and you jolted forward on the shoulder, eyes blown wide open as you gasped. You couldn't believe it as the wave of pleasure finally crashed into your rockfest resolution, your toes curling upwards and your eyes rolled back, your orgasm hitting you harder than even the slap had.

"Oh, god," you whispered breathlessly while riding the high of pleasure and shame as you felt your juices leaking even through your panties, dripping and running down the body of the other stronger brother.

"Seems like you finally get it, sacrifice," the guy in front of you noted, brushing his thumb over your lips, which opened automatically to his beckoning.

"Let's go, brother," he urged. "Seems our little fighter needs just a bit more convincing as to why they'll love being ours. I can't wait to make their belly swell with our clutch, just like Mother has always told us."

"We're lucky we found a mate so quickly," the other agreed, and you let out a defeated huff, no more words to counter them with coming to your dazed thoughts.

Their tail set into motion, scales slithering over stone, while your mind drifted off, the aphrodisiac having too much of a hold on your conscience for you to be rid of it quickly. You were going to be taken by the monsters, and if you thought you were helpless before, your body now barely felt like it belonged to you. It was as if you weren't its master anymore, but that drug and those snakes were. You could only shiver, even though the air was getting hotter the closer you three got to the volcano, wondering if you at least fulfilled your duty as a sacrifice.

And when that duty would finally end.

[asksonicverse]

Hello! I have two questions:

1. I noticed you tagged your work as Sonadow for Prime and Sonamy for Boom. I'm daying to know how the two Sonics react to their different tastes in partners.

2. How would these Sonics and Shadows get along with the Movie version?

[ Creator Special ]

Hello! I’m going to be an answering a few of these questions I’ve gotten that would work much better if I just answer them like this!

So, Yes you’re correct, Sonamy for Boom and Sonadow for Prime and SATBK. At the moment, Paradox and Prism are both SINGLE (but who knows?) And Bandi is in a complicated relationship with his Amy.

Since it’s going to be a second before we really get into the “stories” of this Ask Blog, I’ll give one word, shock. And depending on who, maybe a bit of horror. I can also promise, a lot of embarrassment! And don’t think Paradox and Prism will get all the fun, I’ve got plans for you Bandi…

Yeah basing it pretty much just off of vibes. Or other random things. The oldest/most mature Sonic is no doubt King Arthur and then Classic and Pipsqueak are the youngest Sonic’s.

Although I’d say least responsible Sonic has to belong to either Bandi or Ego.

Prism and Paradox. Very quickly took control of the situation, most have an inkling of respect for that.

Can you guys tell I’ve watched Sonic Prime four times yet?

Tired. After he gets in a good nap he’ll be fine. Usually they don’t need sleep, but after everything they’ve been doing??

Who?

lol JK, uhh I have never read the Archie Comics nor do I have a desire to. So… those guys are just gonna… float in the void for now. Too much lore for me to catch up on.

Big white room! Lots of space! It’s also rectangular instead of a square.

And who knows? Maybe something may happen to cause it to expand in the future?

Hehe thanks!

[This is the first creator special] | Next

[thelov3lybookworm]

Tolerate It (Part 2)

Part 1

Summary: Everyting will be okay.

•○●⛦●○•

A/n: shes a lil small, but shes here hehe

(also creds to @mybestfriendmademe for giving me the idea for the part about fights and silence 🥹😚)

enjoy!

Azriel had never been given the love a child should have received, and maybe that was the reason he thought himself undeserving of it.

Maybe it was his ugly hands and the way he knew that those hands would taint the beautiful, pure skin of his mate.

Whatever it was, he knew he had fucked up when he returned home to find the house empty, the usual warmth and happy aura that he had gotten used to being gone, the house now back to the desolate place it had been before she came along to light it up.

Azriel had realised how much of an ass he'd been to his mate the moment he left, and then decided that he would apologise and explain his behaviour when he returned home that night.

But then the house was empty, and the whole place void of the things that made him want to call it home, so Azriel had simply sighed, knowing he was at fault as he turned and flew to the river house.

Of course, his sister in law had glared holes into his back the entire time he had been begging Rhys to disclose Y/n's location, and even Rhys looked disgusted with his brother.

Defeated, Azriel knew she would not be found unless she wanted to be, so he decided to return and wait it out.

Just before he left the River house, he ordered his shadows to go search the whole of Velaris for Y/n.

"Leave her alone. Let her think this through. You fucked up brother, now let her decide if she wants to forgive you."

Azriel ignored Rhysand, taking off towards the home he used to share with her, now nothing but four walls and a roof to him.

He knew he fucked up, he didn't need anyone to tell him that.

But still, no one left him be. No one let him wallow in his self hatred and pity.

They made it worse by fucking caring for him.

Cassian would visit Azriel, yell and fight, but then leave him food to eat because Azriel was so busy beating himself up over his actions that he had forgotten to eat anything.

Nesta would visit, starting to clean around the house without a word, and when Azriel would try to stop her, she would just glare at him and say the same few words. She did not like untidiness. I'm doing it for her.

Rhys had also stopped sending Azriel on missions, so that didn't help in any way considering Azriel had nothing to occupy his time with, ensuring him feeling guilty all the damn time.

Her silence made him curse himself more. Being an Illyrian, he was used to fights and arguments, but he wasn't used to being ignored. You either fought it out, or you killed in the camps. There was no other choice.

The quiet was too loud for Azriel, to the point he was convinced he was going mad.

It had been almost a week of him either staring up at his ceiling, wanting to just die, or bawling his eyes out in the bathtub, because then no one would see the tears that escaped his eyes.

Once again, Azriel could not help but think of how if he had just opened up to Y/n, let himself be vulnerable, cried in front of her as he told her of everything he had been through, he wouldn't have had to wipe his tears by himself.

Because then she would have wiped his tears for him, held him through the worst of nights, and kissed his sadness away.

But alas, he just had to continue being his thick skulled bastard self.

As he now stared at the half eaten apple Feyre had shoved into his hand when she stopped by his house on her way to the art studio, his heart stopped.

No. Some of us must stay back with him.

It doesn't matter. He will cry anyway. We must go to her.

She doesn't need all of us right now.

His head whipped to where a couple of his shadows hovered nearby, his eyes wide, breath hitched in his throat.

The apple tumbled from his slack grip.

"What..."

The shadows froze, then frantically hurried away, slipping through the space under the door, the couch, the window.

And Azriel could do nothing but sit back, a broken breath escaping him at the realisation that the shadows had known all along where she had been, but had kept the knowledge from him.

They were, after all, their own being, not to be commanded but placated.

After long moments of silence, Azriel got up from the couch and slid to his knees, his head hung low in defeat.

Please, he begged.

Please.

A startled gasp jolted Azriel from the trance he'd been in, and he raised his head to find himself staring into the eyes of his beloved, the eyes he had tried so hard not to become familiar with in case she saw the truth one day, realising he did not deserve her.

Azriel stared, and stared.

And continued staring until she spoke up.

"Az- what are you doing here?"

Azriel blinked, feeling something- presumably a tear- escape his eye as he glanced around. "I... I don't-"

His shadows hissed at him before he could continue, and he paused.

"I wanted to apologise."

Her eyes, that were hard until now, softened. Whether it was at the sound of his broken voice, the state of his being, or the tears streaming down his face without him realising, he didn't know.

And he didn't care as he took in her form, clad in an oversized shirt- his shirt- and nothing else, her hair unbound and messy, the soft skin of her legs on full display for him.

Slowly, he raised his eyes to meet hers, where tears now accumulated.

"Oh Az." She mumbled, stepping forward towards his kneeling, hunched form.

"Forgive me my love. I love you, I love you so so much, I'm sorry, I didn't-"

Azriel's chest heaved as he reached his hands out, trying to grab at Y/n's shirt, but she walked forward without any prompting. Mirroring his position, she knelt in front of him, tugging him into her chest as his hands scrambled to hold her back, panicked as if she was going to vanish any moment.

It was getting harder to take a breath, tears constantly streaming down his face, any and all air he could take into his lungs escaping in startling gasps, emptying his body, lightening his head-

"Shh, take a deep breath with me."

It was nearly impossible, but he tried. Opening and closing his mouth, trying to get his lungs to work, expanding his chest voluntarily in hopes it would help.

When that didn't work, he shoved his head into the stretch of skin connecting her neck to her collarbone, letting himself drown in the unique scent of his mate.

Finally, his lungs started working again, if only to have her scent dominate all his other senses.

"It's okay, you're okay." She was still mumbling, her body so warm and welcoming as she remained wrapped around him, comforting his cold self.

"It's not." He whispered back, squeezing his eyes shut. "I'm-"

"Sorry, I know." She rubbed her hand down his back. "And I am sorry too, for leaving instead of talking it out. But now, I'm ready. I'm sure we can work things out, right?"

He nodded frantically, pulling back to show her how sincere he was being, his head tilted back to look her in the eye. She smiled at him softly, brushing his hair back from his face, quiet understanding on her face.

"It will all be okay."

It will be.

Acotar Taglist: @bubybubsters @eos-princess @nightless @harrystylesfan2686 @cassie6392 @kennedy-brooke @tele86 @miluiel1 @hnyclover @minnieoo @sidrapotter @piceous21 @mybestfriendmademe @saltedcoffeescotch @eve175 @starsinyourseyes @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @cumuluscranium @byyalady @lilah-asteria @girlswithimagination @gardenofrunar

Azriel Taglist: @darthdumbasss @foreverrandomwritings @azrielsmate3 @celestialend @stqrgirlies-blog @tele86 @bakananya @xyzmeh @st4r-girl-official @caraaaaugh @nacho-nat @allllium @fandomarchiveilyd

Tolerate it taglist: @anuttellaa @willowpains @blackgirlmagicforever @isa1b2h3 @helloevilmuffins @bunnyredgirl @hellsenthero @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @fxckmiup @honeybee54321 @nahimgoodmom @bigcreatorwombatdreamer @sweetcarolina-24 @misskennygirl @macel625 @justyouraveragekleemain @its-sam-allgood

[merakiui]

trapped in a room you can’t leave until you have sex trope, but it’s with the halloween trio. >:)

rollo who thinks the entire thing is absolutely outlandish and so very sinful. he will not be participating in this lustful debauchery and he expects you to be of the same mindset!! surely there must be some other way. he’s stubborn in this thought, but inside he’s fiercely battling the temptation to have you bent over and speared on his cock. orz

skully who is so flustered but also excited but also anxious. omg omg,,, sex is such a big step and he hasn’t even kissed you on the lips yet,,, >///< but isn’t sex just like kissing but for two bodies!!!! aaaaa he really wants to try it,,, if you’ll allow it, of course! he wants his dear to be comfortable, but if not then maybe there’s another method of escape? but you don’t miss the way his eyes linger on you, always seeming to find their way back to you, so very obvious in his staring.

fellow……. well, it can’t be helped. he’s done far worse to get out of sticky situations, so this is nothing. but you have to undress at the same time and it’s completely mutual and don’t say a word of this afterwards and you’d better just lie back and let his flattery work wonders on you in the same way his fingers scissor inside you!!!! please don’t be difficult and please be impressed and please genuinely cum and please tell him it felt good,,, (loser virgin who tries to make up for his embarrassing shortcomings by putting on a faux sense of confidence and sexual bravado). yes, of course he’s kissed before!! don’t ask to kiss him. yes, of course he’s good with his mouth. don’t say a word when he’s sloppy and salivating all over you. hush up.

and the gangbang…….. fellow insisting he knows what he’s doing because he’s older and has more life experience. fingering you in front of rollo and skully, stretching you open for them to see. if it’s fem anatomy,,, poking fun at the other loser virgins by teaching them where your clit is, running his hand over your tummy and telling them all about your womb and the purpose it serves, etc etc. skully who is just so enchanted, outright admiring your pretty, fascinating anatomy, and rollo who is trying not to look but is also looking directly at it.

maybe fellow even uses his seniority to have the first go with you. sitting you on his cock or maybe even lying you down so he can fuck you missionary and soon there’s a shadow over your face and a very embarrassed skully is trying to ask very politely if you’d be willing to kiss his tip/suck his dick/give it any sort of attention while it weeps pathetically. >_< and rollo who takes hold of your hand and kisses your knuckles sweetly before guiding it to his dick,,, hehe or rollo who is unexpectedly romantic when he fucks you….. murmuring all kinds of sweet nothings in french while he’s twisting your nipples or toying with other erogenous zones on your body, kissing at your neck and collarbones, as if he has all the time in the world in this little room. this slice of heaven.

the four of you leaving the room absolutely disheveled once it unlocks. :) a very satisfying experience.

[hyunjins-orange-slice-too]

when he comes home early

genre: smut, a mix of texting screenshots and written word

word count: 2 screen shots, ~1.1k just a short little drabble

warnings: cnc adjacent? (reader is scared at first), unprotected sex, pet names, chan is called a god (because facts)

channie if you’re reading this (ik you lurk let’s bfr) ik that your birthday is over where you are, but it’s still october 3rd here. it’s like we get to celebrate twice. (like i haven’t been celebrating all week hehe) i can’t believe you were live for four hours. you’re the sweetest human and i hope you had the most amazing birthday. also, don’t read any more of this post or anything else on my blog. pls don’t perceive me. love you byeee 🩷

authors note: this was so out of my comfort zone. i wanted to push myself to write something that i wouldn’t normally. i originally wanted this to be an actual experience for the reader, with a stalker version of chan, but i can’t write that. i just can’t. so i turned my idea into this instead. :) i had to have some form of prior consent, hence the texts lol. that was the only way it was going to work for me. anywhoooo. happy birthday to our channie! 💗💗 thank you for coming along this journey of channie’s birthday celebration with me. <3 i hope it was enjoyable. :) sorry im rambling, here’s the post:

main masterlist • channie’s birthday celebration masterlist

he did come home that night and help you. but not with that particular fantasy. no, he filed that piece of information away in his mind to save it for later. you wouldn’t really be surprised if he came home that night and did it, now would you? so he waited. and waited. and waited some more until he was sure you had forgotten about it.

and that’s what led to this night. he and the kids had been away on tour for a couple months now, leaving you lonely. but chan managed to sneak away a little early. when everyone else was flying home the next morning, he flew out that night. putting him home sooner than you had expected.

he was at the door of your shared apartment, trying to be extra quiet punching in the code. but he couldn’t control the volume of the beeps, the mechanical whirring of the door unlocking and clicking open.

you stirred in your sleep. was that the door opening? you reached for your phone on the bedside table, the light momentarily blinding you. it was the middle of the night. and chan wasn’t supposed to be home for another 12 hours. you listened intently. and after a few moments of not hearing anything, you had decided you imagined it, dreamt it perhaps, too tired to pull yourself out of bed to go check.

and chan waited. in the shadows of the kitchen, he held his breath, waiting for you to stumble groggily into the kitchen and flip on the light. but you didn’t. he heard you turn over in bed, the frame making a loud creaking noise as you did so. he smiled. he carefully toed off his shoes, and placed his backpack gently on the ground, trying his hardest not to make a single sound. he tiptoed down the hall toward your shared bedroom, his eyes slowly adjusting to the darkness. luckily the bedroom door was already open and he could see you, laying in bed. you were on your tummy, blanket kicked to the side, your arms under your head. you had on a small tank top, and a pair of underwear, the material clinging to your skin in the warm summer night air. his cock twitched in his pants. he had really missed you these last couple of months, and seeing the swell of your ass, close enough for him to reach out and touch, he was already hard.

you moved in your sleep then, grabbing the pillow closest to you and pulling it snug against your chest, burying your face in the softness. his heart gave a squeeze as he realized you had put one of his tshirts on the pillow, and were cuddling it, breathing in his leftover scent.

he loved you so much. and he couldnt wait any longer.

he carefully took of his clothes, leaving them in a messy pile on the floor. he wrapped his hand around his leaking cock and slowly pumped himself as he watched you. it’s almost like you could sense him in the room. your body moved more, stretching out your muscles, slowly waking up.

you opened your eyes, and blinked a few times to make sure you were seeing things correctly. there was someone in the room with you. you could see his dark outline at the foot of the bed. your eyes widened in fear and before you could react, he was on you.

he climbed on the bed and straddled your bottom half, his cock resting against your ass. panicking, you tried to flip over, to knock him off, but you weren’t quick enough. he placed one large hand in between your shoulder blades and held you down, pressing your body into the mattress. his other hand came to your face, covering your mouth, preventing you from screaming.

and that’s when you smelled him. chan? was that him you were smelling? or the tshirt covered pillow laying next to you? a bracelet on his wrist tickled the skin of your chin as he covered your mouth. the metal was cold against your skin. his chrome hearts bracelet?

he leaned down, his lips close to your skin and he confirmed your suspicions. “god i fucking missed you.” he growled into your ear.

goosebumps erupted over your body as he bit your neck, sure to leave a bruise. his hand released your mouth and came down to pull your underwear off. they made it halfway down your thighs before he gave up, deciding that was good enough. his long fingers went straight for your pussy and he groaned. “so fucking wet baby. did you miss me too?”

your core pulsed with need. “chan..” you breathed.

he spit into his hand, coating his length, before shoving it into you. he gave you very little time to adjust to him before he started rocking his hips, quickly increasing his speed until he was fucking into you, hard. your hands clawed at the sheets as his hand on your back pressed you down harder. his show of strength had your arousal dripping down onto the sheets.

“fucking take it.” he grunted, the sound of his skin slapping against yours filled the room.

you could feel that familiar feeling in your tummy. “fuck- oh god.” you moaned. “ oh my god.”

“not god baby.” he said. “just- fuck.. just me.”

his hand landed a hard smack against your ass, leaving a red print behind. “you— you are a god t-to me.” you stuttered out.

his hand squeezed the flesh of your ass before spanking you again. “i’m a god to you, baby?” he asked. you nodded against the sheets, though you were positive he wouldn’t be able to notice it.

you were so close, your walls fluttering around his cock. “if i’m god, then you’re my angel.” he panted. “are you gonna cum for me angel?”

“yes! fuck yes!” your body shook as your orgasm washed over you, your eyes rolling back as he continued to fuck you through it.

“there you go, baby.” he cooed. “just a little more. fuck- i’m cumming” he groaned before you felt him release inside of you.

he collapsed next to you, his chest heaving and covered in sweat. his head turned to look at you. your eyes were closed, exhausted. “are you okay?” he asked. “that wasn’t too much, was it?”

you smiled. “no, channie. i loved it.” you lifted yourself up on your elbows and kissed him softly. “welcome home by the way.” you giggled.

he stroked your cheek, brushed your hair out of you eyes, and kissed you again before saying “i missed you so much.”

🏷️: @httpdwaekki (i’m so sorry i forgot to add the tags yesterday! i was in a rush to post this before my therapy appointment 😅)

♡ pls reblog if you liked it! it truly helps a lot and makes me smile :) ♡

©hyunjins-orange-slice-too i do not give permission for this work or any of my work to be translated, copied, or reposted.

[mira-s-bookclub]

Past Time Nightmares

Azriel x Reader

Note: Weird way to write?

Warnings: Burning (Hehe), nightmares, past trauma.

Summary: Being mates means sharing a lot, including trauma.

Words Count: 1,3k

. . . . . ╰──╮ ╭──╯ . . . . .

Everything went in a blur of sights. One second the disoriented but wonderfully peaceful dream was exchanged for another.

It came in flashes of hot white and blackness.

Her throat had closed. Her feet -bound, chained she found out, restricting her movement. She couldn’t breathe. She really fucking couldn’t breathe.

Everything was disoriented, blurry and clear at the same time. Her heart couldn’t take anymore, her breath coming in short and fast.

A set of hands before her came through. This is how I die, she thought. There was a sharp smell, something oily poured over her hands, still bound.

Everything went by so fast: a click there and a flick of light in the darkness.

She couldn’t see clearly, oblivious to the tears streaming down her face, her eyes, still clad in darkness.

When the flame came before her, she stilled. A threat. There wouldn’t be a pain quite like this one, she knew. Even before the flame set fire to her oil clad hands, she knew it would hurt her in ways that couldn’t be fixed.

She started trembling. Her nose clogged, her breathing coming to a stop. Preparing. The hands before her held the flame. Strong, mighty hands, holding the flickering flame, as if the flame, too, wanting to burn out.

She couldn’t do this. Her body lurched in the chair. She couldn’t. A strong set of hands held her. No, no, no. Four hands. And as she panicked and screamed at them to stop. Crying out for mercy. As the steady hands dropped the lighter. She wished for nothing but the darkness to take her away.  

She lurched up from the bed. Hit something hard and fell back again. Twisting, turning, and hitting everything in radius.

She couldn’t breathe, her throat clogged full of the smell. That smell. Burning flesh. Right of the delicate bones, bubbling, sizzling. Strong hands gripped her again, shaking her.

She couldn’t do it again, wouldn’t. She’d rather die.

There was someone yelling in the background, gripping her arms so tight she knew she would notice the marks right away. Shaking her again, yelling at her.

She could still feel the phantom pains, the fire so hot it felt like ice was digging its way through her very soul. She was going to be sick. Gagging and choking, the person dropped her arms.

Taking the opportunity, jumping, crawling over and down on the floor. A pile of limbs, crumbling.

She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t see anything.

Her name was shouted from across the room.

She was in a room.

Strong, hard barked hands gripping her cheeks, nimble fingers clearing the fog from her eyes. Her tears, she noticed, lay in a puddle on the floor. Hardwood floors, clad in small scrapes and cuts.

“For the love of god, look at me!” There was an urgency in his voice, scaring her- “Come on!” he yelled, lifting her face to face his. She gasped. Azriel. “I-I..” she tried; her voice almost too soft for his Illyrian hearing.

His arms wrapped around her, steadying her. She hadn’t even noticed the trembling; she shook so hard her teeth clattered. He leaned back. Azriels eyes was full of panic, his grip on her arms never faltering. “What happened?” he said, looking her in the eyes. His voice a little rough.

She curled into his arms again, both sitting on the floor, almost in his lap. “I was burning,” she said into his neck. Her voice hoarse, her throat sore from screaming.

That was how he had found her.

She had laid screaming and thrashing in her bed, completely safe, his shadows had made sure of that. There wasn’t a threat in sight.

He knew she had nightmares, he had them himself.

“Azriel,” she cried in his arms. He knew what she was going to say before she did, knew her own nightmares never spooked her much.

“It was you burning,” she whispered, a statement. They’ve done this before, but his heart still skipped a beat. Knew her own heart probably skipped it too. Together.

Her skin was sweaty, but ice cold. He rubbed his arms up and down hers, trying so hard not to think about her nightmare.

He had moved on, tried too at least. “I know sweetheart, I know.” He would never forget. Neither would she.

His breathing was ragged, a clump forming in his throat. “Come on,” he whispered in her ear, “let’s find something to eat.” There wasn’t much to do when either of them had a nightmare. The worst thing to do was go back to sleep, the nightmares always came back. Food and quiet was the best medicine.

She hesitantly unfastened herself from him, carefully taking his hands in hers. He knew she had to see them in full light, see how they had healed. She would hold them and any part of him she could for hours after a nightmare like this.

Azriel looked deep into her eyes. Knowing she was shaken but would be okay. It shook him to his very core when she was screaming. He knew she was fine, but it didn’t matter. He held her hands, kissed her cheeks, her lips. “Come now.”

She laughed at his antics. He had refused to let her walk down the short flight of stairs, giving her only one option: to be carried bridal style downstairs. Her hands lay around his neck, giving him quick kisses everywhere she could get to. His arms were wrapped under her thighs and lower back.

It was still dark outside, the sun wouldn’t be up for hours, she remarked to him. He just gestured to the light around the room. “Good thing we have lamps,” he said, tickling her stomach. “Stop,” she laughed again, “I would never tickle you in such a situation.”

He grinned at her, knowingly. She knew he wasn’t oblivious to her self-deprecation, but it was what she did to lighten the mood.

He sat her on the counter in the kitchen, gently stroking her thigh before turning towards the fridge. “Anything in mind, Love?” he said with such softness, she knew his brothers would laugh at him should they ever know.

She wouldn’t mind ice cream, she told him. Her voice was a little shaky, but if he noticed he didn’t say.

He came over a little later, two bowls of chocolate ice cream in hand. Shaking his head at her when he found her on the sofa instead, hand stuffed into a bowl of chocolate. He was smiling down at her with such love, she knew he really didn’t judge her.

She patted the cushion beside her, a request for closeness.

There were times were neither of them craved physical contact, needing only their presence to feel safe.

He sat down beside her, and she moved. Turning her back against the side of the sofa, her legs sprawled over his lap. He sat farther back, gently stroking her legs up and down.

This was exactly what she needed. Though the nightmare had scared her, she knew he was safe. His hands were not hurt anymore. His blood brothers were awful creatures for what they did to him. Such a difference from his found brotherhood with Cassian and Rhys, who would do anything for Azriel, she knew. He would always be scarred. Not only on the outside, but the inside too, mostly there. She knew she had healed some part of him after they got mated, knew he wasn’t as dark minded as before.

Fingers tapped against her leg. She looked up to find his eyes on hers, one eyebrow quirked up. He nodded his head towards the melting ice cream on the table and though he didn’t say anything, she knew what he meant: “You wanted ice cream, I made it. Eat.”

. . . . . ╰──╮ ╭──╯ . . . . .

To be added to the Taglists, comment:

All ACOTAR - 🌹

All Azriel - 🥀

All TOG - 🌼

[orderforbrian]

@jonmartinweek Day 5 - cryptids | webs & weaving

when i saw the prompt webs & weaving i immediately thought about web!martin weaving spiderweb into jon's hair -- unbeknownst to jon who is just too blissed out by getting his hair touched, and apparently too asleep to notice his boyfriend has four hands (and also the, uh, spiders). the progression of gray in his hair is just subtle enough that jon can't make the connection which is perfect for martin who needs to keep track of him

bonus:

[START ID: Two drawings in purple hues of Jon and Web!Martin from a Web AU of The Magnus Archives. Jon is a thin Persian man with medium length, curly dark hair and a beard, all hair streaked with gray. Martin is a fat mixed Polish/Korean man with shaggy dark hair, a streak of white in one of his bangs, and several beauty marks on his skin. 1st image: Jon lays asleep on top of Martin's chest, his head nuzzled into the crook of Martin's neck. One hand is curled to his chest and the other rests behind Martin's head. He smiles blissfully, feeling perfectly safe while asleep. Martin looks down at Jon with a smile, one eye a bright magenta with a slit pupil. The other side of his face is obscured by Jon's head and shadow. One of Martin's hands holds Jon's hand on his chest, the other draped around Jon's low back. His other two hands have spiderweb wrapped around his fingers, the fingertips pointed into sharp claws. One is close to the nape of Jon's neck, the other held above Jon's head, both with shining white web pulled and connected to the greys in Jon's hair. Jon's hair lifts slightly in the back with the pull of the webbing, other parts curled around Martin's fingers. Several spiders crawl around Martin's skin, notably one across his cheek. Martin says in multiple speech bubbles, "Jon...Jon? Are you asleep? There's spiders in your hair...I'll take that as a yes" with a heart at the end. 2nd image: A simpler drawing, Jon looks into a mirror aghast at the amount of white in his hair, three exclamation points by his head. His arms hover around his hair, and he frustratedly shouts, "Where do all these grey hairs keep coming from?!!". An arrow points to a small drawing of Martin's head, looking to the side with a W smirk, now with eight eyes, says, "I dunno...hehe". End ID.]

[multiisketch]

DO NOT READ FURTHER IF YOU HAVE NOT SEEN SONIC 3 YET!

So, the only thing--theory wise--I have to say toward Sonic 3 at the moment is that I 100% believe the rock Shadow crashed to Earth in was sent by Black Doom. As far as the movie made us aware, Gerald DID NOT create Shadow. He merely studied him and assisted in his development under GUN supervision as a potential power source. Because of this change, I can see the movies saying Shadow was fully created by Black Doom but given an "unassuming" shape. This was meant to make Shadow's mission easier: to get close to the lifeforms of the world and see if they would be easy to conquer if not begin causing havoc himself. Only problem is the crash caused Shadow to loose his memory of his origins and his mission. Unlike Game Shadow during SA2, Movie Shadow has not been given a reason for his creation AT ALL in the plot of the movie thus far. It would make sense that Black Doom is that reason. He would also make a good villain for a sequel film somewhere down the line because... welllll I think we all know whose gonna be the villain of four... hehe~