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icejjfishesz · 6 months

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𝐖𝐀𝐈𝐓 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐈𝐓 ❞ 𓄼˚ ▍ P.B.

❛ 𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆 ━━ based off this post by @iminlovewithkatemartin ! ❜

❛ 𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 ━━ literally just sex...feeling like a whore rn, lmao. top!paige. punishment ig?? bratty reader. ❜

❛ 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁 ━━ 1.4k! ❜

❛ 𝗮𝘂𝘁𝗵𝗼𝗿𝘀 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲 ━━ prompt was TOO GOOD so hopefully i did it some soft of justice! ❜

paige was never the first to leave a party. she was often the center of attention –– a magnet that attracted the focus of all those around her. naturally, you loved that about her…her essence and simply seeing her thriving in her element. but there were times where you wanted her all to yourself. times like now, where she chatted her ass off and all you could focus on was the sound of her voice. or when 1am comes and goes and all you think about is how good she smelled as she pulls your body closer to hers. paige is an anomaly. somehow always managing to give you all her attention yet making it feel like not enough. paige made you greedy and she knew it. it’s evident in the way she rubs your thigh a little too high as she’s sitting next to you but still never looks in your direction. it was like a mutual secret, one between only you and her, she knew how badly you wanted her right now but she was gonna make you wait for it.

by 2am you’ve grown antsy, barely replying to paige when she speaks to you. she knows you’re ready to go, she knows you’re almost too horny to function. she almost feels bad at you when she sees that slight frown plastered on your lips or when she notices the way your hips shift awkwardly every once in a while.

she says something to you, a cute little smile on her lips that you honestly hate right now. you want to leave. you don’t even hear what she said, not as if you planned on responding anyways. then you roll your eyes. paige blinks a few times, a little confused.

“baby?” her voice is gentle, genuinely concerned but she’s been feeling on your thigh for over an hour and she knows how bad you want her. you understand that giving her even a slight attitude won’t work out in your favor…but you don't care. you’re upset and you want her to know it.

“what?” the sass is evident. unable to be underplayed or considered inscrutable. it takes paige aback and the few people within earshot all look at each other because they catch it too. you wanted her to know you were pissed? well, now she knows.

paige clenches her jaw, leaning in close to whisper in your ear. “is it time to go, baby?”

you shiver, the hairs on your neck staring when she lowers her voice like that. the words, if heard by an untrained ear, might be considered sweet. they could be mistaken as paige understanding you (which she does) and being sweet about it (which is most definitely not how she planned on handling you). but you knew better. you knew the words were a warning. they translate roughly to ‘you wanna fix your fucking tone before we have a probelm?’ it’s her way of giving you a second chance.

“it’s been time to go.” she extended an olive branch but you don’t take it. you’ll pay for that later.

paige simply grabs your hand and quickly says goodbye to a few people as she leads you to her car. she opens your door for you despite being annoyed with you before she shuts it and walks around the other side. you can’t take your eyes off of her as she starts the car. neither of you speak. you sealed your own fate and you know it.

the drive is tense and silent. it seems like every passing second heart beats just a little bit faster. you could only imagine the price you’d have to pay for your little stunt.

which is exactly how you ended up here, on paige’s lap as her hands roamed over your hips. “i’m sorry…” you groan but you both know you don’t mean it.

“yeah? for what?” paige hums casually. as though anything about this situation is casual. she’s shirtless and you’re naked on her lap begging for her to fuck you. the view seems familiar, she’s had you like this one way or another a million times over but she never tires of it. she wants nothing more than to lay you down and shove her face in between your thighs but she refrains. she ignores your wandering hands, ignores the whine in your voice, ignores the need in your eyes…she needs to teach you a lesson.

“i didn't even do anything!” you grumble.

“you rolled your eyes at me and gave me unnecessary attitude.” she gives you a look that says ‘be serious’. you go to respond but then you feel her thigh tense, it makes you moan which she chuckles about.

“i’m not even touching you yet…”

“shut up.” you grumble, unable to stop yourself from grinding into her clothed thigh. she can feel the warmth even through her pants as you rub against her. it takes absolutely everything in here not to say fuck teaching you a lesson to just do everything that she knew would make you moan her name. “please…i need you.”

“it’s not good enough, hm?” she mocks you. “shouldn’t have had all that fucking attitude then. next time just tell me you wanna leave.”

you desperately try and find some way to vindicate yourself but your mind is blank, you decide it’s probably best to just focus on the task at hand. you grind against her, feeling yourself get wetter the more she touches you in every place except where you need her. it feels good. the friction against your clit making you whine…it isn’t enough and she knows it. “please, baby…”

“please what?”

“please make me come…i can’t do it like this.” she adores the pout on face, it renders her unable to stop herself from locking her lips with her own.

she bites her lip, basking in the weight of it all. the weight of your body on top of hers isn't heavy, but the knowledge that she is completely in control of you is. her hands effortlessly move around your body, reminding you of just how well she knows your body –– how easily she could make you feel good. she’d spent over a year tracing every single part of your body with her hands and mouth, she’s memorized you completely. she knows exactly how to tease you.

she kisses you with everything in her, swallowing every sound you make as you grind deeper into her thigh. you can smell her shampoo and you tangle your fingers in her hair. she trails her hand down from your hip to between your legs. she feels just how sucked you are from grinding on her thigh.

she laughs in your face, pulling her lips away from yours and licking away the spit that coats her lips. “you’re so wet…” she slides a finger through your fold and back up to caress your clit. she’s mocking your need, acting as if she wasn’t just as wet as you are. she knows you want it. but she wants you to need it.

“cause you’ve been teasing me all night…” you whisper, practically panting. your hands are braced on her shoulders and lift yourself off her thigh so she can touch you easier. she pushes her long finger in and out of you so slow that it’s cruel. but you cling onto her. after all that teasing, it’s enough to have you reeling.

you shut your eyes, grinding into her hand and then she stills her fingers, making you whine again. “no, please…keep going.”

she brings her face down to such a hickey just above your collarbone, you can’t help but buck into her hand in frustration.

“keep doing that.” she mumbles into your skin, letting her teeth graze against you and nearly making you topple over.

“what?” you’re looking at her expectantly, she can look in your eyes and tell you’re waiting for her to do it for you but she’s having none of it. you’re probably making a mess of her fingers, your soaked pussy dripping at how badly you crave her. what has she done to you?

“nuh uh, you wanna come then go ahead” she laughs in your face, sitting back and politely pressing her thumb into your clit just to watch your hips jolt at the pressure. you feel your shoulders slump when she smiles up at you the way she does when she knows she has you exactly where she wants you.

you whimper again, unable to process her words properly when all you hear is she’s not gonna make you cum. “paige…” you’re so pent up you’d do pretty much anything she asked you to do right now. you can’t even speak, only focused on the next words that leave her mouth.

“…lemme see you ride that shit, baby…”

#paige bueckers x reader

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doumadono · 8 months

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Warnings: smut w/o plot, rough p in v, oral (f & m receiving), wry & dom Dabi, f!reader, a lot of cursing and names calling, slapping, a little degradation, hate s*x Synopsis: arranging a birthday celebration for Dabi proved to be a mistake. It ignited his anger, driving him to his room in a fit of rage. When anger transformed into desire, Dabi insisted on celebrating in his own way, marking the first intimate encounter between the two of you A/N: the prompt was Dabi's first time with his girlfriend is on his birthday This marks the last story crafted in celebration of Dabi's birthday 💜

MY HERO ACADEMIA MASTERLIST DABI'S BIRTHDAY EVENT

"You little cunt!" Dabi's voice thundered, a venomous edge cutting through the air. He didn't bother casting a glance in your direction.

In response to the verbal assault, you jerked your hand free from his grip. "What's the matter this time, Mr. Know-It-All? I merely intended to throw you a pleasant birthday celebration, and you act as though I threatened to annihilate your entire family!"

Dabi scoffed dismissively, striding purposefully toward his room. "Do you think I'd give a damn fuck if you did? Of course not. And I thought I made myself crystal clear — I want no bloody celebrations. I detest my birthday. I despise the very notion of being born. What is so challenging for your tiny, stupid brain to comprehend?"

A disbelieving sigh escaped your lips. While you were well aware of his aversion to birthdays, the magnitude of his anger caught you off guard. Baking him a cake and orchestrating a modest gathering with the assistance of Toga and Shigaraki seemed like a harmless gesture to celebrate his existence, yet it had evidently ignited an unexpected fury.

Dabi came to an abrupt halt and glanced back at you, seizing your wrist and pulling you closer to him. "No response, huh?" he sneered. "Fine, little cunt. So, you're keen on celebrating the day this damn pathetic villain, murderer, and arsonist was born? Well, we'll celebrate it, but we'll do it my damn way."

He forcibly pulled you behind him, and despite your inner desire to break free from his grip, the futility of any attempt was evident – he wielded a strength far surpassing your own.

Dabi swung open the door to his room and shoved you inside, the harsh sound of the door slamming shut resonating through the air as he entered, sealing the room in an oppressive silence.

In the midst of the heated altercation, the details of the argument eluded your memory. A palpable anger still hung in the air, the exchange of words escalating to a fever pitch.

Your gaze shifted toward Dabi, poised to retort, but the intensity in his turquoise eyes arrested your words. The pulsating vein in the black-haired man's neck became a focal point, a magnetic force compelling your desire to quell its frenetic rhythm with a kiss.

His recognition of the unspoken yearning reflected in your face halted his verbal assault, leaving his mouth slightly ajar.

In that suspended moment, the impulse to crush your lips against his neck overwhelmed you. You yearned to soothe the frenetic heartbeat beneath the surface.

As if reading your intentions, Dabi seized you abruptly, drawing you into the circle of his robust arms. It was as if he had glimpsed into the depths of your desires, a skill he wielded with uncanny accuracy. In that instant, he kissed you with the intensity you had yearned for, the clash of tongues mirroring the earlier verbal sparring. The taste of anger mingled with a surprising sweetness, and your body ignited with a white-hot desire, a fervor that only Dabi could unleash. The searing sensation surged from your chest down to your thighs, awakening every inch of your being.

You had sensed the fire kindling in Dabi's loins, the hardness growing almost instantly, and his whole body turning super hot due to his quirk.

Dabi grasped a handful of your hair, yanking your head back, and engaged in a fervent exchange of kisses, licks, and nips, each touch eliciting moans of pleasure from your slightly bruised, parted lips.

The yearning became unbearable, compelling you to crave the feel of Dabi's skin against yours. Almost as if he had divined your thoughts, he leaned back, swiftly discarding his shirt through his hair. His hands reached for your blouse, and with a forceful yank, he tore it open, sending buttons scattering across the tiny room. Despite the intimidating aura that surrounded Dabi, you harbored no fear.

Even though you were aware of his desires, the topic about sex was returning like a boomerang, resurfacing every few days. It had been over half a year since you both became a thing, yet you had not crossed the threshold into a physical relationship, and this restraint was gradually driving Dabi to the brink of madness. You suspected that today's outbursts were fueled, in part, by the previous night's rejection when, amidst a heated make-out session, you had declined his advances as his hand ventured into your shorts, teasing your folds through the fabric of your knickers.

Yet now, a curious mixture of emotions surged within you. Somehow, you found yourself yearning for him with an intensity that defied explanation. Despite no longer being a virgin, a concern lingered about the potential discomfort of engaging in sex with Dabi.

Dabi's lips sought yours once more as he simultaneously released the front clasp of your sheer bra. He took one of your nipples into his mouth, the exquisite pain of his teeth on your flesh intensifying the smoldering embers between your legs into a searing white-hot flame of desire.

"Dabi..." you whined loudly, rolling your head back, resting it against the wall, slipping one of your hands into his hair.

His impatient hands slipped under your skirt in a quest to discover your most sensitive spot. The intensity of his anger and desire surged as his hand encountered obstacles on its journey - your panties. Finally, locating the waistband, Dabi forcefully burnt your panties away, being careful enough to not hurt you. Free from the hindrance, his hungry fingers found what they sought.

Dabi inserted a finger into your wetness, gliding it upward over your swollen clit after finger fucking you for a moment, eliciting moans of ecstasy from you. Simultaneously, his lips continued their exploration, savoring the taste of yours, tracing a path from your lips to your earlobes and down to your neck. "Fucking little cunt," he sneered. "I'll certainly educate you on how I desire my birthday to be celebrated. Perhaps it will penetrate that thick, stupid skull of yours at last, you little whore."

Your moans of pleasure intensified, your hands exploring the contours of Dabi's body. His skin felt sensuous and super warm beneath your fingertips. Before long, your hands discovered his pierced nipple. Gently, you pinched it, coaxing a primal sound from Dabi's lips as he worked diligently on marking your neck, signaling to the world that you belonged to him.

The heightened arousal compelled you to push him away slightly. You replaced your fingers with your mouth after leaning forward, nipping and licking his chest. The tip of your tongue traced along his tensed muscles, whether concealed beneath healthy skin or adorned with scars and purple patches, relishing the taste that was undeniably manly and salty, yet sweet as nectar to your senses.

Dabi's fingers fucked you more, and had rendered you incredibly wet, your clitoris throbbing with anticipation, swollen with both pleasure and need. Seizing your chin in his hand, Dabi kissed you roughly, propelling you back against the wall. He then descended to his knees, lifting your skirt, and trailed his tongue up one thigh and then the other, savoring the juices that had escaped during the fervor of his fingers' endeavors.

Dabi's warm tongue resumed its task, leisurely stroking your sweet, swollen spot. He inserted a finger, moving in and out, synchronizing the motion with the skilled strokes of his tongue. His tongue circled around your sticky clit, while his finger worked diligently to pleasure your pussy. Suddenly, he sucked on it with a hunger reminiscent of a baby latching onto its mother's breast. Your moans grew louder, the sensation of his sucking propelling you closer to the edge, teetering on the brink of no return.

"Yes, Dabi, oh! Just like that!" you gasped, attempting to keep him in the spot to grind your pussy against his face, but Dabi swatted your hands away and rose to meet your gaze.

His eyes mirrored yours, smoky with unbridled lust. "Oh, no, no, little dirty slut. Not yet. No matter how you beg, you'll come when I say," he declared, denying you the release you sought as he asserted control over your pleasure. "Suck me off like a good slut and I'll think of rewarding you."

The overwhelming urge to taste the most manly of flavors had consumed you, leading your hands to fumble with Dabi's thick, white belt. Finally releasing it, the snap and zipper undone, you descended to your knees in front of him, pushing down his dark pants. Dabi's hardened member sprung free, pulsating with the burning lust, a little pearl of precum adorned the slit of its tip. Your cheeks reddened upon noticing the piercing just beneath the tip. Your tongue explored his shaft, moving around and under, tracing the prominent vein, finally reaching the head and swirling around it. It was moist, and the salty flavor was a delightful sensation, spilling all over your tongue. Unable to contain yourself any longer, you took him between your swollen lips, bobbing your head back and forth eagerly, moaning around him.

Dabi's sharp intake of breath signaled the pleasure coursing through him as he felt your lips on his dick. "That's it, dirty whore, suck that fat cock."

You sucked and licked, the intensity of his moans guiding the rhythm of your movements. The sweet labor of tasting your boyfriend drove you into a state of pure ecstasy.

With a resounding pop sound, you withdrew his dick from your mouth, using one hand to jerk it, spreading your saliva across the length of his shaft. Pressing the erect member against his abdomen, you then lowered your head to cradle his heavy balls in your mouth, delicately pressing on them with your tongue.

"Fuck," he growled, closing his eyes for a moment. "You're a fucking whore. My private fuck toy. You're nothing more than a whore, spreading your legs so willingly f'me right now. Look at you. And two days ago you were whining that you're not ready to let me fuck you just yet. Pathetic."

His lewd words elicited a moan from you as you resumed the task of sucking his cock. Ensuring to swirl your tongue around the head, you then proceeded to kiss along the vein running beneath the shaft before you pushed his dick back into your mouth, bobbing your head eagerly.

Suddenly, Dabi reached down, seizing your arm and pulling you up. "Enough, cunt. Time to fuck that pretty, little cunt, yeah?"

"I am so ready for you to fill my belly with your fat cock, daddy," your words quivered with desire.

Dabi grinned wryly. "You're a pathetic bitch, princess. You think with your fucking cunt. So disappointing."

Pressed against the wall, Dabi gripped one of your legs, lifting it up. In one fluid motion, he drove his cock deep inside you, easily bottoming out in your pussy.

"Dabi!" Your scream of pleasure echoed long and loud as the painful stretch overwhelmed your mind.

He lifted your other leg, picking you off the floor, impaling you against the wall, never losing the rhythmic, frantic thrusts.

One of your hands glided down from Dabi's shoulder to your wet clit, skillfully massaging it as he thrust into your pussy. He felt like a white-hot spear inside your pussy. You and Dabi stared into each other's eyes. Both your hands now rested on Dabi's shoulders. You arched your back, rolling your hips in his embrace to synchronize with each of his strokes. "More, more, more!" you begged, your tone pathetic.

Dabi encircled his arm around your ass, using his free hand to deliver a sharp slap to your face. "Look at me, bitch! Look at me!"

It proved challenging for you to maintain focus on his face, especially with every forceful thrust causing the aggressive tip of his cock to brush and nudge all the right spots deep within you. "I… I can't, D… Da…"

He didn't allow you to finish your sentence, responding by slapping your other cheek. "I. Said. Look. At. Me!"

Moaning unabashedly, like a cheap whore you apparently were in that moment, you gazed at him through teary eyes. The singular thought that occupied your mind was the anticipation of his cum, filling you to the brim.

Dabi intensified his rhythm, his buttocks flexing with each forceful thrust. He nibbled on the column of your neck, emitting guttural grunts. "Fucking bitch. Your cunt belongs to me. You belong to me. You fucking naughty whore."

In the final few thrusts, as Dabi's movements became increasingly erratic, he reached the peak of his release within the warmth of your pussy. "Take it, bitch, take it, take it," he growled through gritted teeth. The temperature of his skin soared, accompanied by wisps of dark smoke and the faint scent of burning flesh as he briefly lost the grip on his Blueflame quirk.

His hot seed spilled into your pussy, intensifying your own climax as your pussy clenched tightly around his throbbing shaft. "Dabi!!!" you screamed, the overwhelming sensations pushing you to the brink of consciousness, making it difficult to catch your breath.

Dabi lowered one of your legs, and then the other. Clinging to each other, you leaned against the wall, neither trusting your legs to support you. Dabi's semen mixed with your juices slowly traced down your shaking legs, leaving a trail of slickness in its wake.

Dabi cradled your chin between his thumb and forefinger, planting a tender kiss on your lips. "Now, you've been the good girl you are, princess. Satisfied with the fucking celebration?"

You trailed a series of soft kisses along the contours of his sharp jawline. "Yes, but… are you still upset with me, Dabi?"

Dabi scoffed, theatrically rolling his eyes. "No. I fucked away all the stress, yeah?"

"You burned my favorite panties," you complained, making a sad face.

He leaned down to hoist his pants back up, tucking his flaccid cock back into its confines and adjusting them before fastening the belt. "I'll buy you a new pair, just stop whining."

Dabi flopped onto his bed, sliding both hands under his head as he gazed up at the cracks on the ceiling.

Climbing onto the bed, you curled into a ball by his side, resting your head on his chest, attuning yourself to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. "I'm sorry for riling you up."

"It's fine," he grumbled. "Let's not talk about that, doll."

A few moments of silence hung in the air before you whispered, "I just want you to know that I genuinely love you, every fiber of your being."

Dabi remained unresponsive initially, but after a prolonged and piercing silence, he wrapped his arm around you, leisurely stroking your shoulder. "Thanks, doll face. I love you too."

#dabi smut #dabi #dabi x reader smut #touya todoroki smut #dabi x reader #dabi x y/n #dabi x you #bnha dabi #anime smut #bnha smut #dabi fic #mha dabi #touya todoroki #touya todoroki x reader #touya todoroki x you #dabi fanfic #mha smut #divider by cafekitsune

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luveline · 1 year

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Omg jade hii <3 I know it's not shy friday yet but can I request maybe eddie with a shy best friend who's secretly in love with him? 👉👈 up to you wether he notices or is oblivious. I love your fics sm thank u any way❤️

omg hii thank u for ur request, I guess it is shy friday now!! i hope u enjoy! fem!reader, 1k

Eddie grabs your hand as soon as he gets close enough, his delight to see you completely unshielded. "Holy shit!" he says, forgetting your hand to throw his arms over your shoulders. "I missed you so fucking much, never ever go on vacation again."

"Eddie," you murmur reproachfully, though your arms have a mind of their own, wrapping around his back.

"You're not allowed to leave me. I hate everybody who isn't you the longer you're gone, it makes me a bad person."

Eddie steps back but keeps your shoulders in his hands. His eyes are soft and brown, but his excitement to see you has his pupils like pinpricks. His cheeks are quickly chapped in the cold wind blowing in through the doorway.

"I bet it was warmer there, we're knee deep in winter now," he says. "You look like you had a good time."

"It was good," you agree, sliding the bag of presents from your elbow to your wrist, assuming he'll want to see them most.

He begged for gifts, in person before you went and down the phone while you were gone, landline calls he insisted on. I worry about you, I wanna make sure you're okay when I’m not there.

You got him everything you could afford, a magnet, a bottle opener, a key chain, a teddy bear with a flag around his neck. Basically a bag load of candy on top.

"I really missed you, sweetheart," he says. "Not to be sincere or anything, but I fucking love you. Next time you go away I'm gonna have to come with you."

You laugh nervously. "I love you too," you say, averting your gaze to his collar, black double stitching against his neck.

"Are you hungry?" he asks.

"No," you lie. You hate being an imposition on him, even knowing that Eddie will tell anyone willing to listen that you're his best friend.

"Seriously? You were on a plane for hours, and you came straight to see me, let me buy you pizza or something, yeah?"

You lick your lips and nod. Eddie lifts your face to his, and it genuinely feels like a heart attack, that sudden realisation he could kiss you if he wanted to, the proximity of his face to yours. Instantly, you're wondering if your breath is okay, if you have eye crusties, if you smell good.

"Are you okay?" he asks, concerned.

"I'm alright, I'm just tired," you say.

"You don't look tired, you look cagey. Sorry, I forget that you get all shy again when we don't see each other." He talks brazenly but not without sympathy, patting your shoulder. "Come on, let's get something to eat."

"Can we order something? I'm sick of being in motion."

Eddie throws his car keys like a longshot into the bowl on the sideboard by his front door. "Yes. Absolutely. I'm sick of moving too, and this is the first time I've stood up today."

"Gross."

"I brushed my teeth before you came over," he says, bearing them garishly as proof. He talks through gritted teeth, "Pearly white, no?"

"Looking good."

He beams. Eddie wraps a hand around your wrist like the touch means nothing and tugs you along to the living room. He pushes you down into the seat you always take, tosses your usual blanket at you, and whizzes off to the kitchen for coke and popcorn. He has the sweet stuff in a bucket that he eats a handful at a time, the lid sealed.

"New one?" you ask.

"Waiting for my best girl to get home," he says easily, collapsing down into the seat next to you, dropping the remote on your chest. "Shit, I missed this."

"You didn't watch TV while I was gone?" you ask, confused.

"I watched TV, it just wasn't good without you in my ear judging people."

"I don't judge people… much."

"Everybody judges people. I love when you judge people 'cos you say what I'm thinking." Eddie drops his head into your shoulder, his curls brushing your cheek. "I missed you so much."

"You said that," you say quietly, a little breathless.

Eddie looks up at you, something playful about him as he says, "I know. It's fucking true as all hell, too. What do you want from Marino's? I'll get you two if you promise not to go away again."

"What am I gonna do with two pizzas?" you ask, the warmth of him seeping down into your shirt.

Eddie digs a nail into the popcorn lid, face turned to you but gaze on the bucket. "Uh, eat them. Eat one tonight, take one with you tomorrow for breakfast."

"I don't want two pizzas, just one is good. I'm gonna eat all your popcorn anyway, I won't have room."

"Oh, yeah?" he asks, eyes flying to your face. "You think so, huh?"

Your heart in your mouth, a shudder coursing down your chest, you have a moment where you think for sure he knows, he's found out, and he doesn't care —he looks like he wants you to confess.

What a fantastically dangerous idea. You avert your gaze and thrust your bag of gifts and candy into his arms. "You'll be too full for popcorn after those."

You can feel his gaze on your cheek for a little while longer, but eventually he moves from your shoulders, laughing quietly as he digs through his new things.

"You're so awesome," he says, pulling out the keychain you got him. It's an electric guitar with an enamel body the same colours as the flag. "I'm putting this on my keys right now."

Eddie kisses your cheek. "Thank you," he adds.

He stands and rounds the couch to go get his keys. You feel your cheek with a trembling hand. Eddie kisses you, he hugs you, he has a thousand affections and all of them set you aflame. Sighing, you let your cheek drop into your hand. It's hopeless.

He watches from the doorway as you sigh. His smile can't be described any other way —he's infatuated. The sooner you realise, the better, but for now he's really enjoying the run up.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson scenario #eddie munson drabble #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfiction #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things x reader

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yanderestarangel · 1 year

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"𝐎𝐋𝐃 𝐌𝐀𝐍" | 𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐒𝐇𝐈 𝐓𝐀𝐊𝐀𝐇𝐀𝐒𝐇𝐈

TW: afab reader, vaginal sex, rough sex, degradation, overstimulation, painkink, sexual punishment, dom!kenshi.

SYNOPSIS: You were dating Kenshi, and your sex was always vanilla, so you decided to tease him a little, bringing out the worst/best in Kenshi.

As the door closes, sealing you and Kenshi away from prying eyes, the intensity between you escalates rapidly. He wastes no time, his lips crashing against yours in a passionate, desperate kiss, the pent-up desire finally unleashed. You guide him to your room, anticipation thrumming through your veins as you undress, quickly discarding your shorts, revealing your exposed pussy that glistens with need. The sheer vulnerability and eagerness in your voice only serves to fuel Kenshi's own primal desires.

"-Crawl into bed, (Y/N)" -Kenshi orders, his voice hoarse with desire as he discards his own clothes urgently. He watches you intently as you obey, his movements are a deliciously tempting invitation, Kenshi slowly approaches, his gaze full of hunger and dominance, without hesitation, you position yourself on all fours on the bed, presenting yourself to him, your body ready and Eagerly eager for your touch. His hands hold your hips firmly, keeping you in place as he positions himself at your entrance. With each thrust, he fills your pussy completely. He leans over your back, his rough hands leaving marks on your hips as he bites the back of your sensitive neck.

"-You feel so good honey." -Kenshi growls, his voice full of desire. "-Take all of me, let me feel your tight pussy gripping my cock."

But then, you decided to provoke him, calling him the nickname he hated "old man", a clear challenge to Kenshi's authority. Then a dark, dominant fire flickering in his gaze. He wastes no time responding to his challenge, quickly changing position and flipping you onto your back, tightly pinning your wrists above your head. A raw, primal growl escapes Kenshi's lips as he thrusts into your pussy with an intensity that takes your breath away. His movements become even more vigorous, his hips slamming against yours with a magnetic force, pleasure surges through you, mixing with the thrill of teasing your boyfriend's dominant side.

"-Asking for it, huh, you brat?" -Kenshi hisses, a hint of reprimand. He lowers his head, capturing your lips in a bruising kiss that leaves you gasping for air, he lets go of your wrists, hands finding purchase in your hair as he pulls your head back, exposing your vulnerable neck to his insatiable hunger. Kenshi's teeth sink into your skin, his grip on your hair tightens, ensuring you can't move as he plunders your pussy.

"-Is this what you wanted you damn brat? Teasing me To feel me fucking you, dominating you? You are mine, and I will show you how much control I have over you."

You arch your back, meeting his thrusts with equal fervor, savoring the numbing pleasure that consumes you. As your bodies move in perfect synchronization, Kenshi's grip on your hair loosens, his hand traces a path of fire through yours body, reaching for your hardened nipples, the world becomes a blur of sensations, every touch, every thrust propelling you on a rollercoaster of pleasure that threatens to consume you entirely. Without a word, he pulls out of your throbbing pussy, leaving you empty and wanting more. A sharp gasp escapes your lips as his hand descends on your overstimulated pussy, the pain mixing with waves of pleasure coursing through your body. The sound of impact echoes in the room, the mixture of pain and pleasure sending you over the edge. But Kenshi doesn't stop there.

He continues his attack, his hand returning repeatedly to give hard, painful slaps to your ass, You writhe beneath him, your body shaking, His attack on your ass leaves it red and tender, extremely painful.

"-Is that all you fucking got? Calling me an old man? I'm going to show you how much this 'old man' will fuck you up and leave you unable to walk." -His hand slaps your ass again, the pain radiating throughout your body, but with each blow, the tingling pain consumes you. His grip on your breasts tightens, fingers digging into your flesh possessively as he resumes his relentless thrusts into your wet, throbbing pussy, amplifying the sensitivity of your overstimulated clit.

"-You're a fucking naughty little whore, You want to be filled with my cum? What a slutty thing... you're such a patheticcum whore aren't you?" -His thrusts become faster and more aggressive, his hips slamming into yours with an undeniable force. Pleasure builds within you like a volcanic eruption, his thrusts become faster and more aggressive, his hips slamming into yours with an undeniable force, a lust builds within you like a volcanic eruption, With a primal groan Kenshi pulls out of your pussy at the very last moment, his hand taking over where his cock left off. He strokes himself with urgency, his eyes locked onto his trembling form, he aims his release at your ravished pussy, string after string of hot, sticky cum coating the swollen flesh, mingling with his own slick juices.

"-Never call me old again... otherwise I'll do much worse, fucking every hole of yours until you become a stupid, brainless mess, only thinking about my dick."

©YANDERESTARANGEL 2023

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miss-musings · 4 months

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Crosshair's 10 Most Impressive Shots in "Star Wars: The Bad Batch"

We're now officially three weeks removed from the series finale, so I thought it'd be a fun time to look back at our favorite sniper and review some of his most impressive shots.

Note, I'll be ranking items from "The Bad Batch" TV show only, so there won't be any entries from "The Clone Wars" S7.

I did get a lot of input from folks here and on Twitter, and a lot of people ended up saying the same ones. I put them on here along with a few of my own.

As for how I determined the order, I judged based on a combination of: the distance of the shot, the size of the target, the speed of the target (if applicable), other external factors like light conditions and weather, and "internal" factors like Crosshair's physical and mental state.

You're free to disagree with which ones I picked and how I ordered them. It's all subjective.

Also, I don't proclaim to be an expert in marksmanship nor am I a military sniper. But, I do have a general baseline for how difficult Crosshair's shots would be IRL. I used to go shooting with my dad a lot at both indoor and outdoor ranges, and I was pretty decent at both pistol- and rifle-shooting. So, that's what I'm using to judge Crosshair's shots.

With that out of the way, let's dive in with #10:

10. Killing Lt. Nolan in 2.12 "The Outpost"

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I probably wouldn't have put this one on the list for myself, but I had multiple people suggest it should make the cut.

While this shot is very important narratively, it's not very impressive from a purely technical perspective.

I mean, hitting a relatively stationary human-sized target from a few meters away... It's definitely not the most impressive shot on Crosshair's resume.

However, I did feel it was worth adding to the list for the simple fact that Crosshair is physically exhausted and mentally broken in this scene. He basically uses the last of his strength to kill Lt. Nolan, because he immediately collapses right afterward.

Also, Crosshair might be right-handed, but he's pretty good at shooting his pistol leftie. We don't really see the shot hit Nolan, but if you zoom in after his body hits the ground, you can see that Crosshair shot him straight through the heart. He wasn't leaving that bastard alive after everything he and Mayday went through.

9. Lunch tray ricochet in 1.01 "Aftermath"

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Even though this isn't a shot in the traditional sense -- considering there aren't any firearms involved -- I had to put this on the list for two reasons.

One, I had multiple people suggest it; and two, because I've watched this scene dozens of times and only recently found out that Crosshair actually hits two clones with his lunch tray.

He initially throws it at the clone Tech was fighting, presumably knocking him down. But then it ricochets so hard that it basically clotheslines another clone who's just standing there, minding his own business. Dude was hit so hard, he was like floating in midair for a split second.

Also, this plays into my headcanon that Crosshair would be excellent at any sports that require excellent aim and coordination. If he was on a basketball team, he'd be a three-point specialist for sure!!

8. Plan 55 ricochet in 3.12 "Juggernaut"

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This is the closest thing we get to a trickshot in S3, so I had to include it on the list.

Here, we see Crosshair's quick-thinking and perfect aim take out several troopers at once by purposely ricocheting his shot off the magnetically sealed doors.

As we know from “A New Hope,” magnetically sealed doors/surfaces are no joke. You really have to know what you're doing or someone's gonna get hurt. Thankfully, Crosshair is a freakin' pro at this!

It honestly reminds me of all those crazy pool shots where you have to plan out four or five bounces/angles ahead to get the angle you really want.

7. Downing a spaceship on Ryloth in 1.11 "Devil's Deal"

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NOTE: This is the only clip I couldn't readily find on YT. So I included the clip of Crosshair killing Orn Free Taa from the same episode to maintain symmetry in this Top 10 list.

Don't let the clip fool you. The shot I'm actually talking about takes place before this, when Crosshair -- from like 300 meters away, mind you -- takes down a fast-moving ship by shooting one of the engines.

Look, I love S3 Crosshair with all my heart, but his shooting abilities were severely diminished after his time on Tantiss. When I was doing my S1 rewatch and got to this scene in 1.11, I was like "Oh yeah, I forgot Crosshair used to be able pull off crazy shit like this."

It's actually sad how many of his made shots in 1.11 are like an inverse of his missed shots in 3.11. Here, Crosshair easily shoots a tracker onto Hera & company's ship, and later shoots the engine with no problem, despite the speed and distance.

In 3.11, though, he misses CX-2's ship and fails to track Omega back to Tantiss. 😭

6. Shooting Wrecker's knife in 1.01 "Aftermath"

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Now we're getting into the really impressive shit! Most of these remaining entries have Crosshair shooting small targets and/or fast-moving ones.

In this instance, it's both. Wrecker throws the knife like this is skeet-shooting or something, and Crosshair just very casually shoots it into a droid.

Have you ever seen someone who was so good at their job/hobby that they make it look effortless? Like they're not even trying? This happens to me sometimes when I watch the Olympics. I'm like, "That's not so hard. I could probably do that." And then I try it for like half a second, and I'm like, "Oh no, those people are insane."

That's how good S1-2 Crosshair is. He makes shooting a fast-moving knife look effortless.

5. His four-kill trickshot in 1.15 "Return to Kamino"

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These next three are all no-brainer entries. I think the biggest question will be why I went with the order I did.

Here, we have Crosshair displaying two very important elements of marksmanship/sniping: patience and careful aim.

Crosshair evidently set up at least four mirrors (I counted the ricochets in the shot) well in advance in the exact spots he needed to take down his Imperial squad, if need be. That's some serious foresight and preparation -- to know exactly where everyone would be standing, and have all the mirrors ready to go ahead of time.

He must've set them up even before he brought Hunter into the training room, or Hunter would've seen them and probably signaled his teammates.

He's also hitting a target that seems to be somewhere between the size of a golf ball and baseball from like 10-20 meters. And with his sidearm.

I know everyone loves the hallway mirror ricochet to kill the squadron of battle droids in TCW Season 7, but it didn't qualify. But, honestly, I think this one is more impressive anyway. He hit the first 1.15 mirror from farther away than he does in TCW S7, and he's using his pistol in 1.15 rather than his rifle and scope.

Talk about accuracy!

4. Sniping the tank in 2.03 "The Solitary Clone"

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Oh man! I think we all love this one, right? It's just one of my favorite sequences in the entire show -- the framing, the colors, the effects of the dirt flying up behind him.

I love how Crosshair baits the droids to get the exact angle he needs, and the dude clearly has nerves of steel for staring down the barrel of a tank without flinching. I wonder how many times he's done it, considering he seemed to know exactly how to beat them. I'm guessing at least a dozen.

This is another example of "expert making their expertise look effortless," when in reality, we'd all shit ourselves if we attempted to do the same.

Honestly, sometimes I wish we could've had this version of Crosshair face off against Hemlock in 3.15 -- the dude who stared down the barrel of a tank and didn't flinch at the most literal version of "kill or be killed."

3. Stairwell trickshot in 2.03 "The Solitary Clone"

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While I love the tank sequence more for the aesthetics, I have to rank the 2.03 stairwell trickshot above it.

That's partly because Crosshair's still physically and mentally recovering from nearly getting choked to death. But, it's also partly because -- just like with Wrecker's knife -- Crosshair is shooting a target that someone else is throwing.

That means he has to adjust to whatever trajectory and speed they throw it at and compensate accordingly, which can understandably be very hard to do in a split-second.

And, in this situation, Crosshair can't even see the puck directly. He's looking at it through at least one or two layers of reflective mirrors. Dude's reaction time is insane!

He also manages to take down at least four or five droids with a single shot, including the tactical droid, which is several meters up the stairwell and into the next room.

I'm not sure if the clones learned any advanced mathematics during their training on Kamino. But if they did, I think Crosshair would've loved geometry and maybe trigonometry too! He would also absolutely kill in a game of pool. I wanna see him go to the SW equivalent of a pool hall, and show Omega that he can hustle people too! He just needed to find a game that would better suit his strengths. LOL

Anyway, as insane as this shot is, Crosshair has two others on his resume that are even more impressive:

2. Saving Omega & AZI in 1.16 "Kamino Lost"

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This is one of three entries on this list that *no one* mentioned when I asked for suggestions, but I had to include it. That's because it is -- without a doubt -- the most bafflingly impressive shot Crosshair makes in the entire show.

I have watched this scene dozens of times, and I still have no idea how he knows where Omega and AZI are.

Initially, I thought -- as others did -- that he's using an infrared scope to see their body heat in the water. But, that doesn't appear to be the case.

The only times I can recall Crosshair activating an infrared capability is when he has his rangefinder, which is attached to his helmet. As we see in episodes like 1.01 "Aftermath" and in 3.07 "Extraction," he specifically has to put the rangefinder down in front of his eye to use the infrared option.

No, his scope is just that -- a regular scope. The infrared capability is only attached to his helmet's rangefinder, which he doesn't have in this scene.

Thus, I have no idea how Crosshair is using a regular-ass scope to find Omega and AZI in the dark ocean. The point of a scope is to see better, and I don't know what he might see beside more darkness. AZI's eyes aren't active and, even if Crosshair spots Omega's flashlight, Omega dropped it when she went after AZI, so it's not exactly on her.

I'm willing to believe that Crosshair has better eyesight than the average human in the Star Wars universe or IRL, but his eyesight must be insane if he can see them in the water, even with a scope.

But, whether it's eyesight, some other enhanced sense or just plain luck, Crosshair knows where in the vast, dark ocean they are — not just the angle but the depth too!

It's really hard to tell how far down they are, but I'd say at least 20 meters. And if he is able to see them somehow, he might have to adjust the shot for refraction in the water too.

Plus, unlike the other entries on this list, Crosshair isn't shooting a blaster bolt. He's shooting a cable, meaning he'd have to adjust his shot to accommodate its weight and trajectory once it hits the water. Additionally, with how Omega and AZI are situated, he needs to have the cable hit and latch onto AZI, without hitting Omega in the process, and get the exact angle needed to drag both of them to the surface.

Like I said: I have absolutely no idea how he made this shot. It's definitely the most impressive one he makes in the entire show based solely on external technical factors.

But of course, there is a parallel shot later in the series that's his most impressive one of all...

1. Freeing Omega in 3.15 "The Cavalry Has Arrived"

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I will never shut up about this scene. It's been living in my head rent-free for three weeks already, and will continue to for several months.

This is undoubtedly the most important shot in Crosshair's life: the shot to save his kid and free his family from Hemlock once and for all.

And everything is working against him: It's dark. It's raining. Omega and Hemlock are like ~40 meters away. The target is the binders between their hands, which is like 3-5 centimeters wide, and won't exactly be stationary. Oh, he's using CX-2's stolen blaster, which doesn't even have a scope on it!!!

We the audience get a POV of what Crosshair sees from over his shoulder, and I can barely see Omega's face, let alone her hands!! I said in the previous entry that Crosshair's eyesight has to be better than the average person's because, holy hell, how can he see that?!?

And, even worse, Crosshair is physically and mentally spent in this scene. He had to return to his own personal hell -- the place where he was tortured and traumatized for months -- then got beaten in a fight and had his dominant hand chopped off.

He and Hunter are running on pure adrenaline at this point. They are absolutely hellbent on getting their kid back, even if they die or collapse in the process. They were practically hobbling out of the CX lab together, and when they crouch down on the bridge, Crosshair has to steady himself against Hunter because he doesn't have his other hand.

And, as the final cherry on top of this proverbially shitty sundae, Crosshair absolutely terrified of missing.

A few episodes ago, the guy couldn't hit stationary fruit from like ~15 meters away with a scope in daylight and in a controlled environment. He even tells Omega: "Close doesn't count. It's either a hit or a miss." Because in a high-stakes situation like this, missing your shot could mean death for you or someone else.

Crosshair already feels like he failed Omega because he missed the shot on Pabu. And now, he has to make an even tougher one with every disadvantage stacked against him and her life literally in his hand.

I don't blame the guy for doubting himself.

Thankfully, Hunter and Omega have complete faith in him, and despite everything he's been through in S3, he has faith in himself.

And so, in the shot to end all shots in "The Bad Batch," Crosshair hits his target and frees Omega.

He and Hunter then subsequently turn Hemlock into Swiss cheese before Omega gives Crosshair a much-needed hug, causing me to cry for the 100th time.

I'll admit: as much as I would've loved seeing another mirror trickshot or some other crazy ricochet in the finale (or just S3 in general), this scene is basically perfect.

It also makes for a nice little parallel to the S1 finale, where Crosshair saved Omega's life after she saved his. Here, as he says himself, he goes back to Tantiss to free her because she freed him first.

As someone said on Twitter when I asked for ideas about this list:

"(Crosshair) put his whole heart and soul in this shot, and he didn't miss. He couldn't afford to."

Like I said: this was the shot that freed the entire Bad Batch family from Hemlock forever. So, I think by default, it had to be No. 1 on this list.

*******

Anyway, thanks for reading! It'd be fun to put together another TBB list like this. I guess I'll have to pick a subject first, though, because I don't have any ideas. If you have any, send them my way!

(EDIT: For anyone who’s also on Twitter, give me a follow. @CatchingClassic )

#Youtube #the bad batch #tbb #tbb spoilers #bad batch #tbb season 3 #tbb series finale #tbb season three #tbb crosshair #the bad batch crosshair #clone trooper crosshair #crosshair tbb #star wars #sw tbb #star wars tbb #clone force 99 #star wars the bad batch

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rotdistressxox · 6 months

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Scenario: Date Night with the Papas ♡

!Nsfw! No smut, just some very intimate details.

Primo / Papa Emeritus I

• A letter appears under your office door. Curiously, you pick it up and look at the wax seal. It was a very ornate 'P' on it, so the sender basically revealed himself.

• You slice it open with a letter opener and read:

"My Dearest (Reader)

I know I've been gone for quite some time due to my presence being requested at another ministry. Every second I'm away from you only makes me yearn for you more. When I get back, I would like to treat you to the finest delicacies I've come accross while staying overseas. Be ready as soon as I get back. By the time you read this, I will be arriving in a few days. I look forward to seeing you soon,

Your Beloved Papa Emeritus I"

• You dance around with the letter, giving it a big smooch and putting in your priority drawer. Time to shop for a date night outfit!

• The day comes and you're all fancied up for him. Perfume put skillfully where it should be. You were R-E-A-D-Y.

• A knock raps at the door. Primo. You adjust yourself properly before he opens the door, singing your name.

• "My love" He grabs your waist tenderly and plants a kiss on your cheek. "I wish to savor you longer, but we do have plans. Let us leave". You nod, respecting his urgency. You hang onto his arm as you head to the ministry's more private dining area.

• The evening was spent with him telling you about his travels, sharing playful glances, and eating good food. Primo was one to pay attention to details. Especially food. There had to be some form of aphrodisiacs to give the mood some romance. Even though your love for him and his for you, was unmatched.

• There was nothing that could truly rival the part of the day when your longings reached its peak.

• "Have you missed me that much?" He says as the two of you walk the quiet, candlelit corridors to his room. You hum as his hand rubs your hips. "Tonight, I shall make up for that"

• As soon as his door closes, you two were on eachother like magnets. Barely making it to the bed. Kisses turned into passionate gazes while he gracefully stripped your clothes off, savoring you like he wanted to before. His long hair tickling your bare skin.

• "Ti penso ogni notte e giorno" he said into your lips. Moments like this was when he felt in his prime again. As a man of his age, he saved all of his strength to pleasure you. Taking you to the hilt as he worships every detail.

• His lovemaking always exceeded expectations. It was worth it to long for him every night.

Secondo / Papa Emeritus II

• It was your 2 year anniversary with Secondo.

• Initially, you told him you could plan something. But he was adamant about doing it himself and would suprise you.

• You didn't know what to expect, but Secondo was never one to disappoint.

• He takes you in a limousine to an undisclosed location. He's not in his usual robes, instead dawning a blazer, button up, and dress pants. Something was definitely different about what was going to happen.

• As he opens the door for you, you stand infront of downward staircase which lead to an underground nightclubs. Commonly used by the Papas to have more of their personal rituals in. This should be fun.

• After a few drinks, Secondo and you were certainly the life of the party. Dancing with no room left for Jesus. Bodies flush together as his thigh was pressed between your legs. The music was slow yet full of emotion.

• Tonight, there was nobody else but you on his mind.

• "Sei sexy" he whispered in your ear. "Mi ecciti...mi fai impazzire" his gloved hands guided your hips to move in sync with his. "I would take you right here and now in a heart beat if I could" his voice so sultry it made your knees weak.

• You've learned some Italian, so now was as good of a time as ever to use it to your advantage. "Cattivo papa~" you looked into his eyes while sliding your hands up his chest.

• He tilted his head back slightly and groaned. Hearing that come out of your mouth sent all the right reactions through his body.

• "I don't know if I can hold myself back any longer" he groped your rear roughly. His multi-colored eyes filled with carnal desire as the world around him disappeared.

• "Let's not waste any time then" You took him by the arm and left the club. He found it hard to keep his hands off of you whilst heading back in the limousine. Desperately kissing you, leaving you gasping for air as his mustache tickled your lip.

• The night was filled with never ending pleasure which lasted until morning. Making sure your body remembered every inch of his love. Bodies covered in sweat, and heartbeats slowing down. You and him fell asleep for the day.

Terzo / Papa Emeritus III

• Terzo had this day trip planned out for a while now. He made sure it fell on the right day on the right time. Tracked the weather just to make sure.

• He wanted to take you to a beach he frequented as a child. It would be perfect for a candle light picnic.

• Bought you two matching swimsuits just for the occasion. You quickly changed into it as Terzo was already wearing his half. As you step out of the changing tent, his eyes light up.

• "My lucifer. Antichrist. You look ravaging" he takes your hand and kisses up your arm. "Let's have fun today, sì?" You nodded.

• Most of the day you were walking hand in hand with him. Strolling as the waves hit your feet and the wind blew your hair. Until he dragged you into the water.

• He was an excellent swimmer despite his size. Showing off his skills as he swam around you and splashed water in your face.

• His arms wrapped around you as his chest pressed into yours. "Ready?" "Mhm". You take a deep breath as you and him submerge yourself under the water. You look at his hair weightless and floating in the water. The crystal blue waters surrounding you two as you sink and let your knees hit the sand.

• He had borrowed a breathing incantation spell from the library, with the help of the ghouls of course. You would be able to hold your breath longer whilst you were under the water.

• He lifts you up so that you stand on your feet. 'Trust me' he mouths. He couldn't speak underwater afterall.

• He shows you around all of the rock formations, fish swim past you nonchalantly as you are in complete awe of what your seeing. By this time, the both of you would have to come up for air soon.

• 'I love you' He mouths, pulling you into him. 'I love you, too' you push a few floating hairs out of his face. He smiles and presses his lips onto yours, closing his eyes. The both of you begin to float upwards as the kiss continues until you surface.

• Terzo dries you off with a towel as you lay back in a lounging chair. Drying your legs slowly as he has to leave a few kisses everytime he's done drying that spot in particular.

• "Did I ever tell you how beautiful you look in that bathing suit?" "Yes, I counted atleast 13" "Well did I ever tell you how amazing you'd look if you took it off slowly, and infront of me?"

Copia / Papa Emeritus IV

• Movie niiightt!!

• Gets the old popcorn machine from the basement to work so there's copious amounts of it for the both of you.

•Candy, sweets, drinks, anything you can name is laid out on the table.

• He has a specific system to how picking out movies would work. Your pick, his pick, your pick, then if there's time, the both of you decide on one.

• Since his room is very small and he doesn't really have a couch. He let's you sit on the bed while he sits on the floor. You rest your chin on his head while the movie begins to play.

• You almost ate all of the candy, just like he expected. The first movie was just ending and there was at least a few more to get through. Exhaling, you burrow you nose into his shoulder.

• He smells more fragrant than usual. He definitely has some cologne on. You sigh as you lightly massage his scalp. It didn't seem to bother him as his eyes were still glued to the screen.

• Your fingers trace down his neck to his shoulders. Kneading his shoulders gently. He let's out some small groans as he tilts his head to the side.

• "You're a little tense, hm?" He hums. Your fingers squeeze a little tighter, making him bite his lip. "You need to have better posture when working, Copia" your voice sends a shiver down his spine.

• "I know" he closes his eyes. Your lips trace down his neck, and his gloved hands visibly grip his sweatpants. "Easy easy. Just focus on the movie" "But-" "Focus"

• He tries his best to keep his eyes opened as your hands knead into his shoulder muscles. He thought it the worst had passed, but when you finally found a sweet spot, he tossed his head back and covered his mouth.

• "Oh my, looks like the second movie is just gonna have to wait" You sat yourself on his lap, back facing him as your hips pressed against him. "Me next"

• He eagerly felt up your back, rubbing circles tenderly until he found the most sensitive place and began to move his fingers more skillfully in that area.

• "Copiaaa" you whine as he gets rougher. "What's wrong, I thought you asked for this?" He stopped and pulled you in so that your back was pressed against his torso. "Too much?" He grabbed your hips and planted them firmly on his crotch. "Or not enough?"

#the band ghost #papa emeritus #papa emeritus ii #papa emeritus iii #papa emeritus iv #cardinal copia #papa primo #secondo #terzo #popia #primo x reader #secondo x reader #terzo x reader #copia x reader #x reader

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hanibalistic · 1 year

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#6F417E | EARTH-42 MILES MORALES.

genre | fluff, faint angst / reader is gn

synopsis | miles found you fainted in an alleyway one day, except you died two years ago.

word count | 3440

warning | brief mention of injuries / use of spanish phrases translated from the internet :( let me know if i'm wrong about anything! / everything i know about e-42 miles morales is from the movie

note | not the proudest of my writing here. also, a disclaimer that the events in this fic will deviate from canon haha

parts | one, two, three, four

"Uncle Aaron, I think we forgot to get detergent."

"You forgot to get detergent. I didn't forget nothing."

Miles's shoulders slumped in distaste. His frown mirrored the quiet complaints he spilled out of his mouth as his fingers tugged at the grocery bags dangling on them. He must have been delirious to still forget an item written on a piece of paper and to think the word 'detergent' wasn't even crossed out on the grocery list his mother gave him. It wouldn't be too big of a deal, but he imagined his mother would be mumbling about it as she set the table for dinner.

The doorknob fumbled a bit before the door swung open. The brightness in your eyes dimmed upon seeing Uncle Aaron's furrowed brows, which reminded you of the cautionary tale he kept retiring about being aware of opening doors to unknown knocks in case of danger. You still had difficulty getting used to a dangerous Brooklyn because yours was bright and sunny, and it had its very own Spiderman. Miles had laughed when you told him about your Brooklyn, asking if there was a ranking for crime fighting bug of the week; Spiderman today, something like Ant-man tomorrow?

“If I’d been a serial killer–“

“Which you are not,” you sang with vague cheerfulness as you tried to take the groceries from his hand.

“Hence the question being hypothetical–“

“Miles! You’re home!”

“Mi vida.” It was not audible. He opened his arms habitually and let you dive into his embrace. “How’s your day? Did you glitch?”

You perked up from where you buried your face in his shoulder and examined the bracelet permanently latched around your wrist. Gwen was the one who put the finishing touches on it, and she was so excited about the product that she came over in the middle of the night to hand it to you. It has been about two weeks since you began wearing it, and you have not glitched once. You told Miles it should be safe to conclude that the bracelet worked, but he always asked for good measures anyway.

“I helped around the house, as always,” you replied. Fixing the bracelet, you felt a soft magnetic pull against the tips of your fingers that touched the metal. You let go of it and rested your chin on Miles’s shoulder, sighing in contentment at the mere solidity of his body. “I didn’t glitch.”

Knowing that he was not being paid attention to, Aaron decided against scolding you for cutting him off twice. Instead, he rolled his eyes and turned to the kitchen, where Rio was shifting through a stack of sealed envelopes. He placed the groceries on the square table in the middle of the kitchen and smacked his teeth, looking pointedly at Rio as he nudged his head toward the apartment door.

Rio didn’t have to look to know you two were stuck in each other’s arms by the door. She smiled, shifting through the letters carefully with a shake of her head. “He is happy, Aaron.”

“Happy enough to cut me off my sentence,” he scoffed before adding, “twice.”

“I’m sure they will apologize if you say something,” she mused. “Especially [Name]. They’re a good kid.”

Aaron’s eye twitched in dismay. Rio was right—you were a good kid. He couldn’t hate you enough to delude himself into believing otherwise, and of course, he didn’t actually hate you. Besides the apparent naivety he suspected came from living in a safe Brooklyn, nothing about you was blatantly dislikable. You were helpful, albeit not the brightest learner. You listened well, which could be a product of being in another’s hospitality. And, most importantly, you were Miles’s safe place. For the first time in years, Aaron could see his nephew find time to be the teenager he was supposed to be. You practically breathed life into him, which worried Aaron the most.

You were a second chance that Miles was unwilling to let go of, but whether you return to your Earth was not his decision. What would happen to him when you leave? You would destroy him.

“I got the groceries, Mrs. Morales!”

Rio dropped the envelope in her hand and smiled upon your arrival. "Mi amorcito!"

You tilted your head with a thoughtful grin after you put the grocery bag next to all the things Uncle Aaron had taken out of the one he was holding. When Rio flashed you a questioning look, you shrugged. "Miles called me that before. I didn't know what it meant."

A choked-out cough sounded from behind all three of you, and standing by the kitchen sink was Miles, gripping the edge of the sink and coughing out the water that ran down the wrong pipe. Rio covered her teasing smile with a hand, but her shoulder moved to the gentle beats of her lighthearted chuckles. Aaron stared at his panicking nephew, a tinge of judgemental pity laced in his eyes.

Slamming his fist to his chest, Miles swung around to glare between the three of you before his eyes landed on your curious face. “What are you talkin’ about?”

"When did he say that to you?" Rio asked.

You rolled your eyes skyward. If you remember correctly, it was during the first few glitch attacks when you would break down from the sheer pressure of it. He had encouraged you to sleep with him on those nights, and you gladly accepted the offer. It was during one of those tearful nights, you believed. He had whispered it when he thought you were asleep, with teary hiccups still occupying your body's consciousness, and you remembered he had been stroking your hair to lull you to sleep. Everything about him was tender during those nights—his touch, voice, and presence. Unbeknownst to you, its cause was that he physically could not muster any energy when you suffered.

"He must have thought I was sleeping," you said, then you looked sheepishly at Miles, who returned it with a sneer. “I wasn’t asleep yet.”

“Clearly,” he muttered.

"I didn't take you for someone who would sneak into people's rooms when they're sleeping?" Aaron chimed in.

“I didn’t!” Miles groaned in embarrassment. “They cry like hell whenever they glitch. What was I supposed to do?”

“I did cry like hell when I glitched,” you said in agreement as you turned around from the kitchen cabinet where you were stocking the cleaning supplies. “I was the one who looked for him, actually. I couldn’t fall asleep alone. The glitching was terrible.”

Aaron’s eyes darted between you both. Miles reached out for you, his arm moved boldly, but the tip of his finger that touched your shoulder to get your attention was timid and boyish. He exhaled when you smiled at him, and the faintest smirk only you could discern to be a curve of contentment grew on his face as you walked near him. You scrunched your nose into a tight-lipped smile when he muttered something only you could hear, likely giving an unnecessary explanation for his comment on you crying like hell.

The rate you two could engage in your own world was almost admirable if Aaron wasn’t so cautious of Miles’s growing feelings for you. But watching as you two helped each other stock the kitchen cabinets, shoulders brushing and shoving playfully, he knew he couldn't do anything.

"We forgot to get detergent."

Rio gasped. She glanced at the washing machine filled with dirty clothes waiting to be cleaned, one of which included her work uniform, and she sighed. She would have to wear the one she did on her last shift. “I guess I’ll make a run to the store after my shift ends,” she mumbled with a thoughtful hum. “Or I can do it later on the way to the bank. I needed to deposit something.”

“The bank closes at six,” Aaron said questioningly.

“They have a drop-off box that opens through the night. It’s super convenient,” she clarified with a finger snap. “I’ll just stop by briefly before my shift starts. I might forget tomorrow.”

“Your shift starts at twelve, right?”

“Yeah,” Rio nodded, “overnight.”

“You gonna eat dinner with us?”

“I will,” she nudged her head toward where you and Miles were bickering about the washed dishes, “if those two would step away from the stove so I can cook something!”

The two of you froze up at Rio’s demanding tone. Quickly organizing the knickknacks on the dish rack next to the stove, not forgetting to scoff at each other about storing the utensils, Miles ushered you out of the kitchen with his hands clamped over your shoulders. Uncle Aaron watched your backs disappear into Miles’s room, and he saw your ridiculous faces trying to hold back from laughing at what he could only assume was an inside joke, as nothing was amusing about this situation. He gulped—he couldn’t do anything about Miles’s feelings for you.

The only thing more dangerous than a teenage boy in love is the person he is in love with. Taking you out of the picture would do nothing but bring Miles out of the canvas with you, leaving two vacant spots once close together. If you left, you would destroy him, but more importantly, he wouldn't hesitate to follow you everywhere. If you jumped the universe, he would jump the universe. If you got stranded in purgatory, he would strand himself in limbo. If you went to Hell, he would go to Hell because, at some point, it stopped being a biblical state of eternal torture. At some point, Hell is not a place; Hell is just where you are. And Miles would follow you there, always.

You jolted up with the television screen flashing at your face. Even in your sleep, your body subconsciously remembered there was something you need to do. Before Rio left for her shift, which was just a little after Miles and Uncle Aaron left for the occasional hangout, she gave you a sealed envelope to deposit into the bank mailbox because you insisted that you were going to head outside for a short walk of fresh air anyway, so you might as well help you with this tiny task. Except you fell asleep on the couch after getting ready and woke up at one o’clock in the morning.

Scanning the quiet apartment, it was easy to tell nobody had returned home yet. Rio wouldn’t be home until early in the morning; Miles tended to get home around two to three o’clock when he was off with Uncle Aaron doing who knows what. Leaning your head against the couch cushion, you drew a mental map of the path to the bank before closing your eyes. If you jogged, a round trip would take you roughly fifteen to twenty minutes. Not a problem!

Sliding off the couch, you reached into your crossbody bag that was big enough for a phone to feel for the envelope Rio gave you. It was still in there. You zipped the bag and patted it twice for safety, then fixed your jacket sleeves in preparation for the chilling night breeze. Turning off the television and the living room lights as the last step, you grabbed the house key lying in a bowl with some loose change and left the apartment.

Keeping up a light jog was easy under this cold weather and the dark streets. You liked walking at night, but you were never outside this late. There were no cars or people, much unlike the bustling morning you preferred much more. Uncle Aaron’s cautionary tale repeated in your head and increased your speed through the empty pedestrian road. The more you stayed outdoors, the more you thought it a bad idea to be outside at this dead time.

“What? What is–what?” you muttered as you moved your body about.

Glaring at you was the metal deposit box enclosed in the bank walls. It took you a hot minute to find it because it was behind a wall off the side of the building where the ATMs were. You thought it was a terrible design choice only because you couldn’t find it immediately; it would not have been if you managed to. The second hurdle came when you realized the handle to the mailbox wouldn’t budge.

“How do you open this?” you laughed as you gave the handle another pull. When the metal texture began hurting your skin, you let go to loosen your jacket sleeve until it reached your palm so you could use the thick fabric as a shield. This time, you put a leg up on the wall to use it as leverage. You pulled again. Nothing happened. Huffing in dissatisfaction, you pointed at the mailbox as if it could understand you. “You’re really–mhm!”

The swift kick to the wall could be heard. Miles perked up to where the soft rummaging noise came from and squinted his eyes behind the prowler mask. He scanned the area carefully, looking for any signs of people to find none. He remained tense even as he dropped the matter—gritted teeth and clenched jaw over a bank heist only a few days in planning. He has done this many times before. Maybe not robbing a bank specifically, but criminal activities were no longer a stranger to him as they were. He would even say he enjoyed it; he liked being strong, and it was a source of easy money. However, the main reason why he turned to a life of crime was to distract himself from the death of his father and you. Now that you were here to repaint a corner of his world with colors again, being a prowler was losing its appeal.

"Miles."

He snapped out of his trance at his uncle's impatient voice screeching through the earpiece, and cleared his throat. "Sorry. What's up?"

"What's up?" His uncle sounded incredulous. "Are the bombs set up?"

"Oh–uh, yeah." He peeked out from behind the bush to check out the blinking red light he set up at the foot of the gate. "They're all set up."

"And you? You got your head in the clouds just then.”

“I’m fine, Uncle Aaron,” Miles clarified with the kind of grit that would have gotten him in trouble usually. He took a deep breath. “Let’s detonate them so we can move on from here.”

The other end shuffled and scratched; its noise muffled the careless footsteps behind the ATM wall.

“Detonation in three….”

You pouted when you shoved the envelope in your bag, still mumbling about not finding an opening to the night deposit box. It was a good enough reason to give Rio tomorrow when she returned home from the hospital; that metal handle would not budge!

“Two…”

Miles perked up at the familiar figure trailing slowly by the bank entrance where he set a bomb device. His ears did not deceive him when he thought he heard footsteps somewhere, and neither was Uncle Aaron wrong about his head being in the clouds! Nobody should be out to the bank at this forsaken time, but his surprising lack of attention made him miss the slow walker—he tilted his head—a slow walker wearing a jacket he remembered he also owned.

You blew raspberries as you patted your bag twice for safety measures. When you looked up, you met eyes with a figure in a purple suit. His stance seemed agitated, and Miles was. He cursed under his breath when he recognized your face, his legs already bringing him out from hiding. What were you doing here? You should be at home!

“One.”

“Uncle Aaron, no!”

The ground shook under your feet, but what made you lose your balance was the impact of the sudden explosions that came in three—bang, bang, bang! The bank building was collapsing, or perhaps it was only in the process of being destroyed? You didn’t get a chance to see clearly. You could hear the alarm bells, though. It wasn’t the wailing kind; it was the kind that rang non-stop.

Meeting with the ground was not an extraordinary experience for you, but it felt worse than being pushed in this case. Face planting on marble tiles was mentally more endurable than outdoor brick floors. At least you thought that way for now. A groan left your lips as your brain was overloaded with sensations; you absorbed too much, from the alarm noises to the growing pains at the bottom of your body. You groggily looked to where it came from and saw glass shards sticking to your legs through the fabric of the pants. Great. Turning away from them, you noticed your bracelet scratching up tiny sparks, and you couldn’t bring yourself to wonder if you’d broken it.

“Oh no–shit! No, no, no, ¿por qué estás aquí?” Miles unmasked himself, showing his anxiously darting eyes. His hands hovered over your body indecisively, but he felt his fingers inching toward your face where blood trickled down the side of your skin. Miles needed to look through your hair for the source. Curling his arm under your neck, he lifted you to his chest. “Oh no, oh no. Lo siento, lo siento, lo siento–no quise hacerlo.“

You stirred upon his voice phasing in and out of your muffled hearing. Even with the migraine, you could recognize his voice. He was spilling words you didn’t understand, but some of the vocabulary you knew he had said to you before. Mi cariño, mi corazon…mi vida—he whispered that to you today when he came home from school. He probably didn’t think you heard, but you did. You exhaled, then an exhausted whimper pushed itself out of your mouth when the breathing hurt your throat.

He quickly regained his composure upon seeing a sign of life, immediately hooking his arms under your knees, pulling you to his chest, and leaping away from the falling debris. The sight of you bleeding and injured was all too familiar to him. But instead of letting the flashbacks stop him in his tracks, he planned to do something he couldn’t last time—saving you or at least trying to save you.

Returning to where he was hiding, away from the burning building, Miles scanned his surroundings. “Uncle Aaron! Uncle Aaron, help!”

“Miles!” Aaron emerged from the shadows. “We have to go now, we don’t have time–“ he stopped at the sight of you in Miles’s arms–“what happened?”

“They were here–I don’t know why! They’re not supposed to be out here at this time!”

You remembered how he carried you, which seemed to always be bridal style. It wasn’t as if he did it all the time, though. His hand on your back felt much weirder, too, like he was digging claws into your skin to keep you in his arms. If your senses had gathered better, you would have teased him with the hope that he hadn't gotten tired of you joking about his feelings for you. Licking your dry lips, you rolled your head to meet his chest. It heaved with each word he hollered beyond the fire, the alarm bells, and the disagreement coming from his uncle. They were arguing about where to go. Miles clutched your body closer to him every now and then. He was hell-bent on bringing you to seek medical treatment, and his uncle was not.

“Gwen is waiting!”

“She would want me to help [Name]!”

“We triggered the alarms, so law enforcement will gather here!” Aaron argued. “The police can bring them to the hospital just fine! We need to stick to our plan!”

“[Name] is dead on record. We can’t just bring them to the hospital!” Miles said. “I’m taking them directly to mom.”

A foolish boy. “You’re gonna throw away everything we built.” It was more than just doing crimes, it seemed. There was a bond, a mutual trust built in the process that was on the verge of collapsing. “For that.”

Miles widened his eyes in disbelief. He had his doubts about the way his uncle felt about your existence. Still, he held out hope that the aloofness resulted from the great unknown of the multiverse and Aaron’s personality rather than that he thought your presence was a nuisance. Supposed he was wrong. The casual dehumanization was all he needed to decide how to proceed. Miles hopped a few steps back, his brows furrowing and his grip on your firm.

“Tell Gwen I’m sorry.”

Aaron clicked his tongue. “Tell her yourself.”

#this is a self indulgent romance fic first and foremost >:( no logic!#gonna take a break from this for a moment though #miles morales imagine #miles morales x y/n #miles morales x reader #miles morales x you #earth 42 miles x you #earth 42 miles x reader #earth 42 miles morales x reader

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i-drop-level-one-loot · 7 months

Text

*NSFW* I'm Alive (Yandere!Monster x GN!Reader)

CW: Dead Dove, dub-con, death, gore, inhuman anatomy, sexual non-sexual penetration, mind control, angst, you have been warned

Breathing hurt.

His entire body convulsed as he inhaled, the writhing mass that was his body cracked and groaned as it pulsed. He was once a man, though he no longer remembered much of his previous life. There was a torso emerging from the ball of flesh that was his lower half, and sometimes when he closed his eyes he could recall owning a pair of legs; but now he was just an abomination.

Trapped under the earth in what seemed to be the ruins of a temple or some kind of forgotten catacombs, he spent his days lying in a corner, eating the rats that came and tried to devour his body that reeked of decay.

Sometimes, he dreamt. There is a dream of a building called a "church", where a woman would clasp her hands together and speak to an invisible man. She called it prayer, and told him if he prays then her god will answer, but whenever he awoke and interlocked his red, skinless fingers together, the woman's god never granted him death.

Death never comes, nor does relief.

There was only rot, and pain, and rats.

Each and every day. He didn't know how he knew, because he hadn't seen the sun since becoming a monster, but he knew that there was such thing as a sun, and a sky, and that the day changed to night, which would become weeks, then years. And he knew that he has been down there for a very long time.

Then, one day, there was light.

And God granted him his relief.

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

The group of adventurers broke through the sealed entrance to the abandoned tower. It once stretched all the way to the heavens, but had sunk into the dirt centuries ago. Half of the excited group were thrill seeking scholars, willing to put their lives on the line to uncover the secrets of the Inverted Tower, and the other half were monster slaying treasure hunters, investigating the ancient rumors of forgotten relics. Among them was (Reader), a hero unknown.

The dreams began when they were just a child. Dreams of a man begging them not to leave, falling to his knees as the walls crumbled around the two and the familiar stranger's skin peeled off like cracking paint. A nun in the dreams would assure (Reader) that it wasn't their fault. But it hurt. It was too much for a child to see. Seeing themselves, but not themselves, a body foreign yet undeniably their own, reliving the moment when they chained a man to the floor, then locked the door and left him to die.

Now they stood at a hole in the ground: the magnet of fate pulling them into a place they felt would be identical to their dreams.

And they were right.

The halls seemed to be persevered by magic, dirty and dusty, but still fairly untouched by the erosion of time. Landing onto the top floor was like dropping into one of their dreams. Memories from someone else invaded (Reader's) mind, and forced them to recall things they never experienced before.

Adopted by the Tower of God, (Reader) was proud to have been chosen amongst all of the other orphans. Their skills were unmatched, as was their intellect. Only six years old, and the magical talent scouts had determined that they had what it took to learn to be a great warrior for 'The Cause'.

There was another child around (Reader's) age that had been adopted from a different country. He looked like an angel, with gold hair and eyes so clear and blue that they looked like the sky.

The floor shook dangerously as the group worked their way to the stairs. A healer tried to hold (Reader) back, concern filling his face. "You look really pale, do you need to sit down?"

"We literally just entered!" A thug stage whispered, nervous to make any loud noises. No one knew what was in the tower, but there had been many stories about monsters and demons. Some said that the devil himself pulled the tower into the earth out of jealousy towards God.

"I'm fine.." (Reader) wiped the sweat off their forehead with the back of their hand. "I'm just getting a weird sense of deja vu..."

The children entered the tower's chapel hand in hand. It was nearly empty, save for a nun kneeling before a terrifying statue of a cloaked figure. Despite wearing a habit, she was an unusual looking nun, with her eyebrows shaved off and tattoos visible from under her hood.

"Welcome, children." She gave a small smile, one that seemed more tired than welcoming.

"You look weird." The golden boy gripped (Reader's) arm tighter.

A genuine laugh erupted sharply, startling the kids. "I am a clerical nun."

"What's that?"

She revealed her hands to the small orphans before her. Sparkling light rose from her fingers like snowflakes falling backwards.

"The God that I serve gives me power. Power to cleanse the world of evil." The statue looming above the trio felt as though it heard her mention it; it's presence darkening and suffocating (Reader). "You were chosen because your souls glow stronger than most.. God has blessed you both."

"All you have to do is pray.."

An axe slashed through an attacking bat. Only on the 112th floor and the group had already began to run into creatures from the beyond. Lesser evils such as minion bats and living slime charged the group as ferociously as possible, mad with hunger. As they continued on, a growing affection for the young boy bloomed within (Reader's) heart, reliving someone else's journey of friendship and love, with a terrifying sense of anxiety. Each new remembrance of secret handholding and hushed murmurs behind closed doors gave (Reader) a rush of dopamine, but also made them fearful to continue. They knew there was a memory they didn't want to uncover; one that would connect to the dreams they've had since forever, and it scared them.

On the edge of puberty, (Reader) and the Boy could feel that something within them was changing, but being raised by a guild of monster hunters left them without the basic learnings of what was happening to their bodies and minds. The two were surrounded by loving adults who cared for the orphans like family, but continued to isolate themselves as they grew, relying on each other in secret more and more.

The two hid under the blanket, sharing a bed long after it was time for lights out. (Reader) held onto the Boy's slightly clammy hand, repeating a prayer in their head for God to make their heart stop hurting. It was as though they were allergic to their best friend and brother. Whenever he looked into their eyes they felt a tidal wave of emotion so intense it nearly brought them to tears. However, at the same time they couldn't leave his side. They wanted to hug him so tightly that his body would melt into their's.

"I don't like Mother Lillian." The Boy whispered through pouting lips. "She keeps making us take our lessons apart from each other."

"Haha. That's because you refuse to do your work when we sit together." (Reader) knocked their forehead against his lightly.

In the black of their room, they couldn't see the Boy's face blushing, so they assumed that the heat they felt was coming from their own cheeks.

"Schoolwork is boring... I'd rather spend time with you."

The thing on the ground floor could smell his salvation. That prayer he had mumbled in incoherent words for decades was finally heard by his God. A person who's name he hadn't forgotten despite his language skills diminishing to nothing but grunts and groans had finally come for him. He would no longer be alone.

A horrifying sound of flesh ripping echoed throughout the corridor as he tore his body away from the wall he had begun to fuse to. It was agony, dragging his living corpse across the floor, but he knew that it would all be worth it.

Soon.

(Reader's) talent for the arcane accelerated, like a snowball gently tumbling into an avalanche. Praise and recognition were no strangers to the young teen, but as their recognition grew they were kept apart from their best friend for longer and longer intervals. While it hurt to be away from him, the genius had no idea the absolute trauma the separation was inflicting on him.

Mother Lillian held her bleeding forehead, tears falling not for herself, but for the young man she saw as her own son. The Boy stood above her with a candlestick holder raised high above his head, ready to swing again. This was the scene (Reader) interrupted, lashing out on instinct with a holy light, hoisting their best friend off his feet with a frantic wave of their hand. "STOP!"

Blood continued dripping from the tattooed cleric as her aging body was pulled into her other child's arms. It wasn't a deadly strike, but a second surely would have ended her. She was powerful, but took a vow long ago to only use her magic against evil, so even having her brow split open she refused to defend herself, because that would mean that she thought her adopted son was evil.

And even though he didn't believe it, she did love him.

"It's all her fault! She won't let us be together! She's keepING YOU AWAY FROM ME!!"

Moisture sweat from the walls.

The heat was becoming unbearable. Cooling potions were being consumed in fairly consistent dosages as the party descended. But it wasn't the earth's core, nor the presence of hell itself that caused (Reader's) fever.

They could still feel the sting of betrayal when they threw their best friend off of their mother.

"No.. that wasn't me.." the hero wobbled on their feet, fingernails clawing at their scalp.

A clay vase nearly toppled as (Reader) clipped their hip on the corner of the little table it was resting on.

They could see the Boy watching them from behind the ugly vase, and it made their stomach feel strange. His shoulders had grown wide and his chest broad. The Boy no longer looked like a boy, and (Reader) couldn't block out the odd, scary new feelings they had for him.

"STOP!!" (Reader) took off, slamming their face into a wall with a force loud enough to draw the attention of skeletons.

Said monsters hobbled closer to the group of panicking adventurers, drawing the attention of the dizzy and confused hero, who recognized the tatters draping the undeads' bones immediately.

Clerical wizards and holy people smiled at the young adult knowingly as they tried to explain, with all seriousness, the illness plaguing their body whenever their "brother" was near.

"Calm down!" The healer begged, trying to cool the panicking person down.

"No! You should all be in heaven! Why are you here?!"

Why am I here?

Whispers seeped out of the door to the Boy's room, whispers the jealous cleric-in-training on the other side did not recognize. Unable to contain their envy, (Reader) burst into the room, only to see their exhausted blonde friend standing alone in the center.

"[•••••], who were you talking to?" They demanded, eyes narrowed and shaking. At hearing his own name his cloudy eyes widened, accentuating the bags hanging heavy underneath.

"I was just praying.." His arms engulfing his angry "friend" instantly dowsed their fire, almost hypnotizing them with his touch into forgetting that they thought they had heard a second voice. "If I'm.. If I can be as strong as you, then we'll be able to spend more time together, right?"

Your God wasn't listening, so I found a new one.

As (Reader) remembered a life that wasn't their own, so did the abomination from the basement.

Each floor that their bodies drew closer also brought back pieces of their souls; souls that could only exist together.

He came to me, and offered me a deal.

The Man woke his old friend when the sun wasn't close to rising, climbing over their body under their blankets. As soon as their lips parted to question his actions, his tongue was in their mouth.

With no light to guide them the two kissed passionately and without experience. They didn't know what they were doing, just that they needed to feel one another.

(Reader) greedily grabbed the sides of his face to pull him closer, legs shifting to feel his body against their own, instantly stopping at the realization that his face was wet under their palms.

"[•••••]?" They tried to pull back as he leaned in, trapping them against their pillows. What they first thought to be tears was too warm and thick to be water. Roughly pushing him back, (Reader) illuminated the small space with magic, frightened.

Blood leaked down and smeared across his cheeks as [•••••]'s bloated, red eyes were on the verge of popping.

"Shit, we finally got passed them!" The barbarian wheezed out. "Those boney bastards were fucking tough, no thanks to you!" He directed that last part to the nearly comatose hero being supported by the healer.

"no.."

The young magic user barely heard the sick patient whimper. They had been muttering gargles of nonsense for a few levels, so it was worrying seeing them lucid and frightened; eyes round of scared, pointing at the door the barbarian was about to open with all their strength, shaking. "No..."

"Why were they so tough..?"

The door swung open with a loud bang, and a tendril shot through, piercing the barbarian's skull and splattering the scholar behind him in brain matter.

"He had made a pact with a devil."

A man bubbling alive screamed in agony as he attempted to tear off his hands to rid himself of the holy chains keeping him tethered to the floor.

Mother Lillian made an audible sound of pain as she choked back her feelings. Years of meditation and worship, and she could not keep a stoic face despite this being her job. So many exorcisms she performed. So many monsters she'd slain.

But this was her son.

"We can exer-"

"We have already tried that." (Reader) felt their world shatter. "This was a contract, not a possession."

A paladin in golden armor offered a sorrowful expression that seemed genuine. "The only thing we can do is to put him out of his misery."

"No!" They cried out, attempting to launch themselves at the godly man as their grieving mother held them tighter to her chest. "Let me see him, please! I can talk to him! Convince him to give up the name of the devil, so we can hunt it down and save his soul!"

"That's-" The paladin was cut off by Mother Lillian's icy glare. That was a long shot. Not only would it be a reckless waste of human life to hunt down a devil for one man, said man was delirious, borderline demented. There was no reasoning with him.

Bloody holes where eyes once sat welcomed (Reader) as they entered the cellar prison.

Without his sight, he could still see. He saw with scent and sound. The sound of their blood rushing through their veins made their shape, and the natural odor of (Reader's) sweat identified the body. He smiled, another tooth falling out as he did so, joining the wet pile on the floor.

"(Reader)~.."

"Tell me the name of the devil you serve." They kept their voice even and still, despite the quake rattling their spine.

"You came for me~ Just like he said!~" A pop ended his sentence, one of his arms dislocating as he pulled on the chains to get closer.

"Just like who said?" (Reader) fell to one knee, leaning in as closely and as they safely as they could. "Please, tell me the name of the devil you made a contract with."

"And now you'll love me!" He squealed.

"I want to save you!" (Reader) grabbed his shoulders but was instantly repelled, throwing themselves away and back towards the door. His skin had slipped off and stuck to their fingers. "Please, please just tell me!"

"God made me strong so you would love me!"

(Reader) turned to run out.

"Wait. Where are you going?" His voice almost sounded like his own again. It pulled (Reader's) hand away from the handle.

"I need to hunt down the devil that did this to you." Their voice trembled, barely containing their tears.

".. what?" The smile was gone as more skin stripped off the decaying body. "No?"

The pain was beginning to return. It had left when his love entered, but now that they were threatening to leave.

"You can't leave? No! NO!" His face tore as he slammed his skull down onto the floor. "Don't leave me! You need to love me! Please don't go!"

Corpses lay around the detached person slowly coming to terms with their apparent reincarnation. They knew they never returned to that tower in their previous life. They spent their entire life searching for the devil that stole their first love's soul, and died bleeding out on a battlefield, forgotten by history and remembered by no one. Unknown to them, the tower with their forgotten family did not carry on their legacy, for it had sunk while they were searching and they had simply never heard the news.

Perhaps, there were no gods, only devils. Because even the most righteous people to have ever lived were damned to wander the tower as the undead instead of passing over to the afterlife. It wasn't fair.

(Reader) gazed up at the tumorous creature that had massacred their party with glassy eyes. The name they couldn't recall during their entire discovery of their past life rolled off their tongue as they reached out for him-

"Ydenn."

A language no longer spoken by a people that no longer lived; suddenly the language (Reader) had known their entire life was replaced by something much older.

Skinless hands grabbed (Reader) gently and raised them to eye level. "(Reader).."

He called them by their past name, bruising their hips under his fingers. (Reader) briefly worried that they were about to die, that all these years alone Ydenn thought they had abandoned him, and that all he desired for all these years was revenge.. but instead he pulled them close, smashing his face against theirs in a mock kiss.

Without lips his gums rubbed painfully against their lips, but it felt just as hungry and desperate as their first kiss under the covers. (Reader's) body may have felt different in his arms, but he knew it was them.

They parted their lips for his invading tongue, now longer and monstrous, it moved like a writhing worm inside their cheeks before pressing itself down their throat, pulsating and hot. Ydenn's hands tore off their top, effortlessly going through multiple layers to feel their bare skin against his raw muscles. He sat their body on his mound of flesh, unable to think of anything other than becoming one with them.

A bright light filled (Reader's) vision as their pants were removed, suddenly replacing the horrific scene with a pleasant dream. Lying in the bed they owned well over a century ago, Ydenn held them under his naked body, face red and glossy from his crying baby blues. "I finally have you again." With a wide smile he kissed them again, smiling harder when they eagerly reciprocated.

They pulled back just to say "I tried to save your soul, Ydenn! I'm sorry I never came back, I'm sorry for dying!"

Just like the angel (Reader) remembered him to be, his face cracked under the weight of his joy, hearing his love babble underneath him as though they were nervous of his feelings. "You came back for me~"

"I'm sorry it took so long." Now (Reader) was also smiling through tears. "I'm sorry I never told you.. that.. that I already loved you!"

(Reader) could feel his erection press against their thigh and willingly opened their legs, making room for him.

Ydenn's heavy pants hit their ear as he dropped his face into the crook of their neck, caressing his dick with one hand as he rubbed its tip between their legs. "Tell me you want to become one with me."

Shivers pimpled their skin in anticipation as they looked down between their bodies at his swollen cock. "I want to become one with you."

There was a searing pain that pieced (Reader's) core.

With a blink the dream was gone, and (Reader) was back facing the skinless half living corpse; a thick tendril made of gore and once-human meat penetrating their stomach.

Vomit and blood spat out across their chest as the throbbing entity began thrusting in and out of the wound it created. Their eyes gave away their shock at the treachery. The wound was too deep and too sudden; the immediate pain was already gone, and they felt numb from the waist down.

"Yd-Ydenn?" They choked on his name, but the gurgle of blood went unnoticed by him. Just hearing his name spurred him on. His teeth scraped against theirs as he began violently fucking the hole he had created. The tendril raped their abdomen like a prehensile penis while his hands ground their urine soaked groin against the growth that was his lower half. Each slap of their bodies bore the wound deeper, spraying blood and mulched intestine.

Between slaps were images of that dream, almost within (Reader's) grasp. They could almost feel pleasure, as they imagined running their hands through his hair as he pounded them into their bed.

They could hear the bed creaking against the hard wood floor as they reached their orgasm, excitedly moaning as they spasmed under his crushing pelvis. (Reader) could feel something building within them, threatening to pop as his dick slammed into something inside of them perfectly.

Just as it was spilling out, the rush of a climax vibrating their system, a loud thunk brought them back to their bloody reality.

Their glazed eyes lulled to the side to find the source of the loud sound.

(Reader's) severed bottom half lay on the floor, only attached to their torso by the stretched out intestines and leaky organs barely holding on.

The disembowelment of his lover didn't seem to phase the monster, still making love to them as more smaller, wriggling pieces of flesh penetrated (Reader).

They could feel the tendril writhe up into their chest, and wondered how they weren't dead yet. It rubbed itself against their heart, leaking an inhuman precum against their weakly beating organ. Through the black goop they thought they could see blue irises smiling back at them with happy tears.

"I love you, (Reader)."

Hot fluid splashed up into their brain as he came inside of their nearly hollowed out cavity, then the world went black.

There was a creature at the bottom of the tower, that no adventurer dared to attack. It never killed unprovoked, but it's kill rate was perfect.

It was a strange creature, a large ball of rotting chunks of human meat, held together by dark magic. Out of the tumor like creature sprouted two torsos, one more decayed than the other, and they were often seen embracing one another, creating ungodly sounds that echoed throughout the entire tower.

Though they forgot how to speak and see, their names never each other's mouths, repeating them over and over to one another without end. They had no need for sleep, nor rest. It was as though they forgot they needed to eat and even breathe.

They only needed each other.

#yandere #yandere monster #yandere monster x reader #gn reader #dead dove #dead dove do not eat #cw: gore #cw blood #cw dubcon #cw mind control #cw death #snsp #yandere x reader #angst #happy ending..?#cw gore #really high while trying to proofread #sorry this took so long

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seriesxwriting · 2 years

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rafe x maybank!reader where she goes to rafe after luke beat her up, but they’re not actually dating, just friends with benefits and he gets so worried cuz he doesn’t know about how luke treats her and jj and he just takes care of her

Thank you so much, I appreciate the request!! This sounds so fun to write I hope I can capture your idea for you<3.

He’s my safe haven

Rafe x reader (jjs sister)

Series- Outer banks

Warnings- swearing, domestic abuse (fighting), degrading words, sort of kissing. Main character putting herself down.

Summary- Request 💗

-requests are open for any characters 🫶

“Where are you going bitch?” Luke scowled from the sofa. He had another beer in his hand now after I’d kicked the other one all over the floor trying to get away from him.

“Somewhere your not” I sniffed through the pain my body was going through. “And where are you going to go” he laughed out loud throwing his head bad. “No one wants you, you don’t matter to anyone” my dad spat at me before taking another slip. He slapped his lips together and put the glass on the table, getting up.

“She’s had enough!” JJ stormed out of his room to stand in front of me. “J don’t” I winced but he put his arm out to block me. “I decide when she’s had enough” luke chuckled getting closer to us. He violently grabbed JJ by the neck and threw him on the floor.

I tried to get out of the door but Luke gripped my ponytail pulling it backwards hard. I grunted as he slammed me into the wall. A second after he landed a gnarly punch to my stomach.

Repeating his actions from an half an hour ago. “You do it to yourself you know that, by just talking you do it to yourself” he screwed up his face before his fist drove back again. Using my knee I pushed him backwards before kicking him in between the legs.

He cried out in pain and I ran for the door. “You’ll get what’s coming for you one day” I slammed the door in his face and bolted from the house. Of course it was raining. In fact it was pouring down. I did hear something about a storm on the news earlier.

As much as I hated to admit it luke was technically right. I had no place to go, no safe haven. But running through the rain, crying my eyes out and being in so much fucking pain led me to one idea. It was a long shot but it was the only idea I had. And off to figure eight I went.

-<3-

I knocked on Rafe’s window after climbing up biting back the screams from the intense pain all across my body. He was laying on his bed when he rolled his head over to sus out the noise. When he saw me sitting on the seal he grinned and bounced up tossing his phone on the bed.

“Well Well Well, look who it is showing up at my window” he swung his arms smugly walking towards the window to open it for me. He lifted the glass up and I climbed in.

“Hi” I breathed awkwardly looking at him, as I did his face dropped. “What the fuck happened?” He strode forward like we were magnets and held my face in his hands. Softly his thumb ran over a bruise that was forming on my cheek. He turned my face to the other side seeing another on my jawline. “You never seen a bruise before?” I smirked leaning forward into a kiss.

Rafe softly planted a quick kiss on my lips before pulling away from my face shaking his head.

“Just help me forget it rafe” I stepped closer to him again. “Not this time y/n- sit down” Rafe ordered pointing to his bed letting go of me.

He wondered off into his on-sweet while I didn’t know what to do with myself. “You going to tell me what happened?” He asked when coming back out. “I fell” my Shoulders shrugged awkwardly.

“Well your clearly lying, will you sit down please?” He asked again with a small medial kit under his arm. “Rafe this is not necessary, it don’t matter! I don’t matter!” I raised my voice slightly feeling my eyes prick with tears again.

“Y/n” he whispered shaking his head coming over to hug me as my chin wobbled. As soon as he did I broke down crying into his shirt balling it up in my fist just to keep him close. Rafe guided me to the bed where he sat and pulled me onto his lap. “You matter to me” he whispered squeezing me gently.

“Ive seen bruises on your body before- i think I was scared to ask in all honesty, but never on your face y/n never this bad”. I pulled away from his chest to look up at him wiping my face. “This isn’t your shit to deal with Rafe” I shook my head vigorously.

“Does it really look like I mind?” Rafe interrogated raising his eyebrow up. “Why is it so hard to believe I just want to help you” “I’ve told you how to help” I whispered moving my hand up to his face. “Don’t be stupid your clearly hurt, you need to rest” Rafe took my hand off his face holding it.

“And you need to change out of these wet clothes I can’t believe your dad let you out there in a storm”. My face dropped when Rafe mentioned my dads name and he picked up on it.

“I’m going to get you some of Sarah’s clothes from the utility room- your welcome to use the shower there’s towels in there” Rafe kissed my hand before getting up and leaving the room. It was tempting, rafes shower was the best feeling in the world. “Fuck it” I shrugged and headed to the kooks shower.

I was only in there for ten or fifteen minutes before coming back into rafes room with a green towel wrapped around me. My hair was brushed out now too so I looked less of a mess. “Hey” I smiled weakly, Rafe watched the bruising on my chest and on my thighs as I walked round to him.

He didn’t say anything just got up and put his arm out to hold my face. I flinched. I don’t know why I didn’t mean to I know Rafe wouldn’t ever hurt me. “I’m sorry I…” “…Is it luke?” He whispered pulling back and cutting me off, looking into my eyes. Now I didn’t say anything, just stared up at him.

“I’m going to get changed now” I shut down the conversation and reached over picking up the pile of clothes rafe laid out for me, walking back into the bathroom. My heart pounded against my chest. Rafe had gotten me some grey jogging bottoms, a white crop top and a matching grey jumper for over the top which I didn’t put on because I was boiling, unfortunately that left on show the worst bruise that Luke landed on me before I left.

When I came back into rafes room he was laying in bed with the TV on. He patted the other side not looking at me.

Hesitantly, I walked over and climbed in under the warm covers next to him. The boy scooped me up landing my head on his chest while his arms were wrapped tightly around me.

“He’s a piece of shit” rafe whispered to me after a second, almost like he couldn’t hold it back. “I know” I replied with a minimal response. “And so Is JJ for letting that happen” “don’t say that” I snapped shaking my head. “JJ gets it worse because he’s always protecting me”, Rafe hummed watching the tv but not listening to it. He was thinking.

“You can’t go back there y/n” he exhaled sounding worried. “I have to go back rafe there’s no where else for me to go”

“You can crash here” rafe suggested clinging onto me tighter. “He’s my dad Rafe, i cant avoid him forever and I can’t stay here forever” I rubbed his hand with my thumb. “But it’s cute you care” I smiled to myself. “of course I care” he replied quickly, “you just need to know that your welcome here when ever you need- AND that you do matter y/n, you do”.

“thank you Rafe” I whispered looking up at him. His face was so close to mine. All I had to do was close the two centimetre gap between our lips. It was tempting, have you seen that man? Of course it was tempting.

He looked down at me with his piercing blue eyes and smirked after a few seconds. “Get it out your head it’s not happening yet, your still hurt” “yet is the key word there Cameron” I grinned shrugging. Rafe chuckled hugging me tighter.

I found my safe haven. It wasn’t a place after all, it was a person. It was Rafe Cameron.

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goldrays · 1 year

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showeroutlet · 3 months

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paddockletters · 10 days

Text

racing hearts | lando norris ft. jude bellingham

paring: lando norris x reader jude bellingham x reader summary: Mia, a sports analyst caught between the worlds of football and F1, finds herself drawn to both Jude Bellingham and Lando Norris. Amidst the excitement of their glamorous lives, a pivotal moment forces her to confront her feelings, leaving her future uncertain and filled with possibility. author's note: Hope you liked it, teel me if you want a second part maybe... Well, as I always say... english is not my first language so pardon me if there are mistakes —feel free to tell me— and my requests are open!👀

Mia sat in the bustling café near the stadium, nursing a flat white as she scanned the latest highlights from the football matches on her phone. A sea of fans swarmed outside, their cheers echoing through the streets of Birmingham, but her mind was far from the beautiful game—or so she told herself. She had an important interview with Jude Bellingham that afternoon, and deep down, she wasn’t quite sure how it would go.

As she scrolled through her feed, a message dinged in from Lando Norris, her recently acquired contact via social media. "Fancy a catch-up? Just finished practice and could do with a laugh. Let’s grab a bite!"

Mia grinned, recalling their effortless banter from the charity event a few weeks back. "Absolutely! How about that café by the stadium?"

Within moments, a new message appeared: "Deal! Just don’t spill your drink this time, yeah? Wouldn’t want you to drown on me."

She chuckled, recalling the time she’d nearly snorted coffee when he showed her a video of his latest racing antics. Lando had a way of making every conversation feel like a joyride—safe but exhilarating.

Having finished her drink, Mia slipped her phone into her bag just as a familiar voice broke through her thoughts.

“Oi! Mia!” Jude's voice was as warm as the sun peeking through the clouds outside. Dressed in a casual tracksuit, his presence was magnetic. Her nervousness melted away as he approached.

“Mister Bellingham! Thanks for meeting me,” she replied, standing to embrace him with a light hug. “You know it’s not every day I get to chat with a superstar.”

“A bit of an overstatement, isn’t it?” he chuckled, scratching the back of his neck, an endearing nervous habit. “But I’m chuffed to have you here! I’ve been looking forward to this.”

As they settled into a booth, Jude leaned in, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “So, are you going to tell me how close you are to Lando Norris, or should I be worried?”

Mia felt her cheeks heat up, but she brushed it off. “What? We’re just mates! He’s a laugh, you know? Good vibes all around!”

“Right, of course.” Jude raised an eyebrow, teasing. “Just keep your lips sealed about my dodgy free kicks, and we’re golden.”

They moved on to chatting about football, with Jude discussing his goals for the season and Mia sharing her experiences dissecting games for the network. As she listened, she was struck by his sincerity and genuine passion for the sport.

"Honestly, it’s not just about the glory, you know? It’s about the love for the game,” Jude said, his eyes gleaming with fervour. “Every time I step on that pitch, it’s like I’m living my dream.”

“I get that completely! You can see it in how you play, Jude. It’s inspiring,” Mia replied, feeling a sense of awe wash over her.

Just then, the bell above the café door jingled, and in walked Lando, all energy and charm. He spotted Mia and Jude instantly, making a beeline towards them, a cheeky grin on his face.

“Look who it is! The lovely Mia and Mr. Bellingham!” Lando said, sliding into the booth with the confidence of a man who knew he belonged. “What’s the secret meeting about? Planning world domination or just scheming how to beat me in a race?”

“Beat you in a race? I’d rather stick to football, thanks,” Jude quipped, grinning back as he leaned back, clearly at ease.

Mia watched the two banter back and forth, their easy camaraderie adding to her internal conflict. She felt a tug between their worlds—Jude's grounded seriousness and Lando’s lively and flamboyant spirit.

“Come on, Mia, you should ditch the footie for a day and give racing a go,” Lando insisted, playfully nudging her shoulder. “I’ll take you for a spin. Just try not to scream, alright? My driving’s top-notch.”

“And your humour is bottom-tier,” Jude interjected, but there was no bite to his words. They all laughed, but Mia noticed the intensity in Jude's gaze as he looked at her. It was surprising and new, igniting a flutter in her stomach.

“You should, though,” he said softly, turning serious for a moment. “It’s thrilling. You’d love it. The adrenaline is like nothing else.”

Just then, a flare of tension filled the air. Mia felt the atmosphere shift as she glanced between both of them—two incredible athletes with undeniable chemistry, each vying for more than just friendship.

Mia shifted in her seat, her heart racing with the unspoken tension between Jude and Lando. The café's vibrant atmosphere seemed to fade as she focused on the exchange unfolding before her.

“Maybe I’ll take you up on that someday,” Mia said, attempting to lighten the mood. She looked at Lando, who still wore his characteristic grin. “But I think I’m better off sticking to my day job—at least until I’ve had some more practice.”

“Fair enough,” Lando said with a wink. “But remember, I’m always here for a joyride if you change your mind.”

Jude cleared his throat, his tone turning more earnest. “And if you ever need a break from racing or football, you know where to find me. I’m always up for a chat or a quick kickabout.”

Mia smiled, feeling a warmth spread through her chest. She admired both men for their dedication and passion, but the emotional stakes of their unspoken feelings were beginning to weigh on her.

“Thanks, both of you. That means a lot,” Mia said, her voice slightly trembling. “It’s not often I get to hang out with two of the most amazing athletes in their fields.”

They continued their conversation, but Mia’s mind was preoccupied with the growing realization of her feelings for both Jude and Lando. The way Jude’s eyes softened when he spoke, the genuine support he offered—he was everything she’d ever wanted in a partner, but there was also Lando, whose spontaneous charm and zest for life had quickly captured her heart.

As the afternoon wore on, Jude and Lando’s playful banter persisted, but Mia’s thoughts were a whirlwind of emotions. It wasn’t long before they had to part ways, each with their own commitments and schedules.

“See you around, Mia,” Jude said, giving her a friendly hug. “And good luck with everything. You’re doing great.”

“Thanks, Jude,” Mia replied, her heart aching slightly at the thought of parting from him. “I’ll catch up with you soon.”

Lando approached next, offering a mischievous grin. “Don’t let Jude scare you off football too much. And remember, there’s always a seat in my car if you need a break.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Mia said, feeling a pang of regret as she returned his hug. “Take care, Lando.”

As she watched them leave, Mia felt the weight of her dilemma settle heavily on her shoulders. Her feelings for Jude and Lando were genuine, but the intensity of their emotions and the complexity of her own heart made the situation increasingly challenging.

She stood by the window of the café, watching the crowd outside, her mind awash with thoughts and feelings. The choice she faced wasn’t just about choosing between two incredible men but also about finding her own path in this tangled web of emotions. The football season and F1 calendar would continue, and so would the world of sports, but for Mia, the real race was against the growing confusion within her heart.

Mia took a deep breath, her resolve hardening. She knew she needed time to figure things out—time to understand her own heart and desires. As she walked away from the café, her steps were lighter, her mind clearer, even as her heart remained caught in the exhilarating whirlwind of racing hearts.

The following weeks were a whirlwind for Mia as she juggled her work responsibilities with the emotional turbulence of her personal life. Between analyzing game footage for football matches and covering F1 races, Mia found little time for herself. Yet, the ongoing saga of her feelings for Jude and Lando was never far from her mind.

One crisp autumn morning, Mia was at the edge of her seat, covering a crucial football match. Jude's team had a major game, and she was busy preparing her pre-match report. Her phone buzzed with a message from Lando:

"Race day tomorrow. Let’s catch up before I hit the track. I’ve got something special planned."

Mia’s heart skipped a beat at the thought of seeing Lando. She hadn’t seen him since their café meeting, and his playful promise of something special intrigued her.

She replied, "Sounds great! Where should we meet?"

“Meet me at the paddock early. I’ll have a surprise waiting for you,” Lando’s reply came swiftly.

The next day, Mia arrived at the F1 paddock, the excitement of race day palpable in the air. Lando greeted her with his usual exuberance. “Hey, Mia! Ready for the surprise?”

“Absolutely. What’s the plan?” Mia asked, trying to hide her anticipation.

“Just follow me,” Lando said with a grin.

He led her to a private area near the track, away from the hustle and bustle. A sleek, custom race car was parked there, its colors dazzling under the sun.

“This is for you,” Lando said, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “I thought you might enjoy a spin in one of these beauties before the race.”

Mia’s eyes widened. “You’re kidding! Are you sure?”

“Trust me,” Lando replied, laughing. “It’s all safe. I promise.”

As they drove around the track, the speed and adrenaline were exhilarating. Lando’s presence beside her was both comforting and thrilling. They shared a few moments of laughter and awe, the world outside the car blurring into a streak of colors.

When they returned to the paddock, Mia felt a mix of elation and nervousness. Lando’s charm had rekindled her earlier feelings, making it harder to focus on her work.

Later that evening, as Mia prepared to cover the football match, she spotted Jude in the stadium’s VIP section. He was watching the game with intense focus, and Mia’s heart did a little flip. She took a deep breath and walked over to greet him.

“Hey, Jude!” she said, trying to sound casual despite her racing heart.

“Hey, Mia,” Jude responded warmly. “How was the day? I hope Lando didn’t drive you too crazy.”

“Not at all,” Mia said with a smile. “He gave me an unforgettable ride.”

As the match went on, Mia found herself caught between two worlds. Jude’s passion for football was magnetic, and his presence was comforting. She admired his dedication and the way he spoke about the game with such love and enthusiasm.

At the end of the match, Jude walked with Mia to the stadium’s exit, his hand lightly brushing against hers. “You’ve been working so hard. How about we grab a drink sometime soon, just the two of us?”

Mia hesitated, feeling the weight of her feelings for both Jude and Lando. “I’d like that,” she said softly. “I’ll let you know when I’m free.”

Later that night, as Mia lay in bed, her thoughts were a tangled mess of emotions. The thrill of the racetrack and Lando’s infectious energy contrasted sharply with Jude’s sincere and grounded nature. She felt torn, unable to fully embrace either relationship without feeling guilty or conflicted.

As the weeks went by, Mia began to realize that she needed to take a step back and focus on herself. She continued to enjoy her time with both Jude and Lando but knew that her decision would come in time.

In a heart-to-heart conversation with a close friend, Mia admitted her confusion.

“I care about both of them, but I need to figure out what I really want. It’s not fair to them or to myself if I don’t.”

Her friend nodded in understanding. “Sometimes, the best way to make a decision is to listen to your own heart and take a step back. You’ve got to find what truly makes you happy.”

With that advice in mind, Mia decided to embrace a period of self-discovery. She focused on her career and passions, allowing herself the space to understand her own desires without the pressure of choosing between Jude and Lando.

As time went on, Mia’s clarity grew. She realized that her journey was about more than just choosing between two incredible people. It was about finding herself and her own path in a world filled with excitement and uncertainty. And while her heart was still intertwined with both Jude and Lando, she knew that the future held possibilities she was eager to explore—both in love and in her own life.

As the winter months settled in, Mia’s internal struggle began to weigh heavily on her. Her career was flourishing, and she had become a respected figure in the sports world, but the personal turmoil involving Jude and Lando remained unresolved.

Jude and Mia’s friendship grew more complex. Jude had been patient and understanding, always present and supportive. Their conversations often lingered on deeper topics, and Jude’s gentle affection began to take on a more romantic tone. His heartfelt gestures and considerate actions made it increasingly difficult for Mia to ignore the feelings that were developing.

On the other hand, Lando’s presence was a whirlwind of excitement. He continued to charm her with his spontaneous adventures and infectious laughter. His adventurous spirit and playful demeanor had become a refreshing escape from the pressures of her daily life. Yet, the intensity of their interactions was unmistakable, and Lando’s occasional hints about their future together left Mia feeling both exhilarated and overwhelmed.

The tipping point came during a major sports gala in London, where both Jude and Lando were in attendance. Mia had been invited to cover the event, and the evening promised to be a glamorous affair. She arrived early to prepare, her thoughts occupied by the weight of her decisions.

As she mingled with guests and conducted interviews, Jude approached her with a serious look in his eyes. “Mia, can we talk?”

“Of course,” Mia replied, her heart racing as she followed him to a quieter corner of the venue.

Jude took a deep breath, his expression a mix of determination and vulnerability. “I know things have been complicated, and I respect that you need time. But I can’t keep pretending I’m okay with just being friends. I care about you deeply, and I want more. I need to know where you stand.”

Mia was taken aback by his honesty. “Jude, I—”

Before she could respond, Lando appeared, his usual grin replaced by a more somber expression. “Hey, Mia. Can I have a word with you too?”

Jude looked at Lando, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Sure, Lando. Go ahead.”

Lando led Mia to the edge of the gala hall, away from prying eyes. “I’ve been thinking a lot lately. I know I’ve been a bit of a whirlwind, and maybe I didn’t give you the space you needed. But I really care about you, Mia. More than I’ve let on. I know this is probably the last thing you need right now with everything going on, but I had to tell you."

Mia’s head spun as she looked between the two men. Both Jude and Lando had laid their feelings bare, and the pressure felt overwhelming. She had been avoiding this moment for weeks, trying to focus on her career and navigate the swirl of media attention, but now she had to face it head-on.

Rumors about her relationships had been flying for some time. Tabloids were constantly speculating, printing photos of her with Jude at a café, or Lando sneaking her into the paddock for a quick joyride. It was getting harder to ignore. The attention had shifted from her work to her personal life, and it was affecting her more than she liked to admit.

“I... I don’t know what to say,” Mia admitted, her voice wavering as she finally spoke. “This whole situation has been a lot, and I’ve been trying to figure it out myself. The media, the rumors... it’s been so intense. I care about both of you, but I’ve been struggling to even think clearly.”

Jude’s face softened, his usually confident demeanor giving way to concern. “I had no idea you were feeling like that. You don’t have to decide anything right now, Mia. But just know that whatever happens, I’ll respect your space and your choices.”

Lando shifted uneasily, his hands shoved in his pockets as he looked away for a moment. “Yeah, same here. I didn’t mean to add pressure. I just wanted you to know how I feel. We can take it slow—whatever you need.”

Mia felt her eyes welling up as the weight of the situation finally hit her. “Thank you, both of you. I just need some time to think about what’s best for me.”

Jude nodded, stepping back to give her space. “Take all the time you need, Mia. I’m here for you, no matter what.”

Lando gave her a small smile, the usual mischief in his eyes replaced with something softer. “I’ll be around, too. And hey, no matter what, we’re mates first.”

Mia let out a shaky breath, feeling both relieved and conflicted as she watched the two men walk away. The media could say what they wanted, but this decision was hers to make, and she knew it wouldn’t be easy.

With that, Mia felt a mixture of relief and sadness. She knew that her decision would not be easy, and the road ahead was uncertain. As the gala continued around them, she watched Jude and Lando walk away in opposite directions, each carrying a piece of her heart with them.

As she left the gala that night, the city lights shimmering in the distance, Mia knew one thing for certain: before she could choose between Jude and Lando, she had to choose herself first. And that was going to take more than just a headline or a rumor to figure out.

In the days that followed, Mia took a step back from both Jude and Lando, focusing on her career and personal growth. The break allowed her to gain perspective and eventually led to a deeper understanding of her own desires and needs.

Months later, at a quiet café where it all began, Mia sat alone, sipping her coffee. She looked out the window, reflecting on the tumultuous journey she had experienced. The thrill of the racing tracks and the passion of the football fields had left their marks on her, but it was the time she spent finding herself that truly shaped her path.

As the café door chimed open, Mia saw a familiar face—Jude. He approached her with a warm smile, and they exchanged a simple, heartfelt greeting.

“Hey, Jude,” Mia said, her voice steady and genuine. “It’s been a while. How are things with you?”

“Hey, Mia,” Jude replied, his smile tinged with a hint of sadness. “Things have been good, just keeping busy with the season. I’ve been thinking about you. How are you holding up?”

“I’m doing well,” Mia said, feeling a sense of calm. “I’ve been focusing on my work and taking some time for myself.”

Jude nodded, his eyes reflecting a mix of understanding and regret. “I’m glad to hear you’re finding your balance. I just wanted to let you know that I’m here if you ever want to talk or need anything.”

Mia smiled, appreciating his words. “Thanks, Jude. That means a lot.”

As Jude turned to leave, Mia’s phone buzzed with a new message. It was from Lando.

“Hey, Mia. I hope you’re doing alright. I know things have been complicated lately. I’m in Monaco, but I’d really like to catch up when I’m back. Maybe we can figure things out over coffee? Just let me know.”

Mia read the message and felt a surge of conflicting emotions. She was touched by Lando’s sincerity, but also felt the weight of her own unresolved feelings.

Sipping her coffee, Mia gazed out the window, contemplating the paths before her. Both Jude and Lando had made a significant impact on her life, each in their own way. She realized that no matter which direction she chose, it would come with its own set of challenges and opportunities.

With a thoughtful sigh, Mia responded to Lando’s message, “I’d like that. Let’s talk when you’re back. Thanks for reaching out.”

As she sent the message, Mia knew that the future was uncertain but full of possibilities. She was ready to explore what lay ahead, with the potential for new beginnings and meaningful connections. The decision of who to pursue—or whether to pursue either—was still to be made, but for now, Mia was open to whatever the journey would bring.

The café bustled with activity around her, a reflection of the vibrant life she was living, and Mia felt a renewed sense of hope and curiosity about the future.

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aphroditestempleimagines · 1 year

Text

Chained to a demon (18+)

Pairing: Fyodor Dostoevsky x fem!reader

Colour: rough and kinky

Warnings: bondage (kind of), vaginal sex, semi-public, prison, fingering, rough sex, kissing, spanking, hand over eyes, wall sex, loving pet names, praise, fyodor being a bit dom and tiny bit possessive, gloves, cum-eating, teasing, unprotected sex (don't do this kids, use your condoms), creampie (also don't do this), semi-public

Words: 2399

Summary: You have been working under Fyodor's orders for a while now. Unfortunately, that meant you were also arrested with him. He has a plan to escape, unlocking every lock in his way but the handcuffs that chain you together.

P.s. this is supposed to be set between Fyodor's arrest and his move to the high-security prison. It is a hypothetical situation.

Fyodor suddenly kneeled next to the iron door. The chain of the handcuffs connecting you was long, but not long enough to continue allowing you to stand. You fell to your knees next to him.

"What are you doing?", you said to him annoyed.

His hands were feeling the delicate mechanisms of the cell's lock. "I believe it is evident what I am doing, moya lyubov"

"I don't know what that means, and could you please just give me a warning next time?"

The silent click of the lock drew your attention. Fyodor let go of the iron bars and the door slid open.

"What the devil did you do?", you asked.

"I am tired of the view here", he said, "The lighting is wrong, the eyes too many and I am getting impatient"

"What are you-hey!", the chain pulled you towards him as he waltzed out of the small cell.

"Do not squabble so loud, moya lyubov, or you will draw the guards' attention sooner than I would prefer"

You opened your mouth to respond but no words were uttered. The fewer guards you encountered the fewer people would get hurt in the process and the cleaner your clothes would remain. Getting out was inevitable now that Fyodor had decided upon it, but getting out without encountering a soul would be a welcome bonus.

You stopped in front of a magnetically sealed door. Fyodor reached in his pocket and uncovered the piece of clear tape you had seen him stick on the iron food tray on lunch day. He had covered it with potato purree he had dried to powder. He pressed it on the fingerprint lock and in a few moments the light around it turned into the most beautiful green you had ever seen.

The door opened to reveal another long corridor. Fyodor moved ahead with ease, his mind probably already in possession of a detailed map of the prison's structure. Soon, he opened the door to a small guards' room, empty of its occupants. He locked the door behind him before he pulled the two of you to one of the lockers.

"Good, it will be much harder to be noticed if we blend in as part of their security", you tossed a guard's hat up and down with your spare hand.

"That is not what I require from this room, moya lyubov", he continued to search through the lockers one by one.

"No? But it would be useful", you said confused, "Oh, perhaps you can find a key for these cuffs, they tend to have the same ones per batch"

"Ah, here it is", he suddenly said. You thought he had answered your question until you saw him take out a pair of black gloves from the locker instead of a small silver key.

"Gloves?", you asked, "I'm sorry, but how is that going to help us get out?"

"It is not", Fyodor responded nonchalantly, "I do not wish to escape just yet".

"Then what-", your sentence was cut off as Fyodor collided your lips together. Your body recovered quickly from the initial shock and melted under his touch.

Touch; he was touching you! You had spent days bound to this man, years longing for him from afar, and yet all it took was a pair of borrowed gloves for him to play with all the strings of your heart like it was his cello. His kiss was rough and needy, devouring all of the words that he always left unsaid. A cold surface hit your back; the lockers. You twisted your body to get a better angle at him and he took the opportunity to cup your blushed hot cheek.

"What are you doing?", you breathed against his lips once he broke the kiss.

"I already told you", he said, "My patience has its limits. And when it comes to you, I'm afraid they fall quite short"

He kissed you again. This time his mouth trailed down your throat, tongue following the trail of your bones. He lodged his leg between your legs, his knee rubbing against your lower parts.

"Fyo...dor....", you sighed as his hands circled your nipples over the fabric of your prison uniform.

"I want you lisichka", he said, slowly peeling off the top of your blue jumpsuit, " I wanted you for years, I want you at this moment, and I will want you for all the moments and years to come". It was clear that his words were stalling for time, his grip loose enough for you to shake him away. "And if you don't push me away right now I'll take you right here and now, moya lyubov"

He dove to take one breast in his mouth, the other in his hand. Your head fell back as his knee continued to press on your clothed cunt. Your fingers clung to his slick black hair and pulled him closer, the chain scraping his pale cheek. Your hips jolted towards him at every touch of his. You guided the hand that was chained to yours down to the last of your jumpsuit's buttons and slipped both your hands underneath the uniform. He wasted no time in plunging two of his digits inside your walls. Your free hand gripped his shoulder as your body trembled underneath him. He had not done anything complicated, and yet he turned you on more than any other man. His presence was domineering, his touch loving and precise. Your juices were drenching his black glove as its roughness brushed over your silk walls.

He laughed over your skin. "I have to admit he quite surprised me when he tied us together with these", he said

"Why-"

He closed in enough so his free hand could lift the chain of your handcuffs to your lips. He placed the cold metal between your teeth, his thumb brushing the corner of your mouth.

"I have no intention of letting you know that", his lips attacked your shoulder. Your whines were muffled by the iron chain that hung from your teeth. Fyodor pushed his body onto yours, your bare back pressing down on the cold surface of the guards' lockers. "Unless you'd like to make a deal for it", he smiled. His thumb was dexterously playing with your bud, his teeth were lightly scraping your skin as he traced your collarbone, making you shiver. You opened your mouth to speak, but before you could utter a word Fyodor grabbed the falling chain and shoved it back in. He placed a soft puckery kiss over your sealed lips. "You can nod", he said.

He withdrew his hand from your lower lips and raised it to his mouth. He made a show of licking each finger with a snarky smile as his thumb traced circles on your left breast. He lightly scraped your torso from neck to waist with the back of his wet fingers before he kneeled down and buried his face in your cunt. He lifted one of your legs and placed it over his shoulder, his tongue reaching between your walls as his thumbs stretched their entrance. Your moan made the thin chain rattle. "Don't you drop it now, lisichka", Fyodor said as he kissed your bud, "I'll be very angry if you do that before the time comes".

He let his mouth water as he kissed your lower lips. His tongue once again plunged inside you. Your body trembled as he moaned for no other reason than to draw this exact reaction. "Let me let you in on my plan, lisichka", he said, his fingers taking the place of his tongue as he pumped them in and out of your body. "You will come on my hand and then I'll help you escape. But before that", he thrusted another finger into your hole, his other hand drawing circles quicker and quicker over your bud, "I'm gonna fuck you so hard I'll be the only thought in your mind until I get out myself"

One hand fell upon your asscheek, leaving behind a rosey imprint. The other reached inside you, searching for the sweet spot that would make the legs that squeezed him trembling and weak. His eyes were as sure as his fingers as they drove you closer and closer to the cliff of pleasure. Your writhed in his grasp but he only picked up the speed of his digits inside you. Your hand gripped his black hair as he spat on the hand which worked your clit. You could not see behind the white blur that clouded your eyes. The metal taste of the chain filled your mouth as you bit down harder, your body falling into the pits of euphoria.

Your vision was still white and you did not see him stand up. Suddenly he was in front of you, lulling the chain from your mouth and plunging his tongue inside in a deep kiss. There was a fire under the ice of his heart, like a sleeping volcano under the Russian glaciers. He turned you over. Your eyes were covered again. He let you taste yourself on his fingers before he returned them to your clit. He buried open kisses on your shoulder and nape as he pressed you against him. You could feel his painful bulge underneath his prison clothes.

"Say you want me", he breathed, "say you need me moya lyubov"

"Fyodor..."

"Ask me to fuck you", you could not see his smile and yet you knew it was there. His one hand moved to wrap around your torso, his other pulled out his cock and placed the tip on your entrance. "Tell me you want me inside you", he let his tip trace the lips of your folds.

"Fyodor....", you trembled. You pressed the lockers with your hands and pushed your body towards him, but he was good at keeping you at a distance. "Please", you heaved from need, "Please I need you inside me. I want you to fuck me. I can't take it any-"

He cut your sentence short. He plunged himself deep inside you. That hand that kept your eyes in the dark moved to cover your open mouth.

"Here's my deal lisichka:", he drew his length all the way out and thrusted back in. Your hand shot up to catch the locker as your body was jolted forwards. Fyodor softly played with your stray locks. You wiggled your hips, anything to get some friction, but he held you in place. His face seemed unbothered by the agony of the stillness between you. "You will hold until we come together", he said by your ear, "and I'll let you in on a secret"

His words came as a statement rather than a choice. Still, he waited until you nodded your head before he smiled and started to move. His thrusts were slow at first, his head fell back as if he was relishing the moment. He closed his eyes as if he wanted to isolate the sensation of the bond that bound the two of you.

"Do you know why they bound you to me?", his next thrust sent you forward. He picked up the pace, the sound of his hips meeting yours filling your ears. His hand still muffled your moans, so you could not respond even if he wanted you to. "I bet Dazai thought he would hobble me this way", he laughed, "Cause I'd be too concerned of using my ability on you by accident"

He grunted. You whined against his gloved hand. You could not control your breath anymore. Your heartbeat reverberated the beating of his body onto yours. He slipped his fingers into your mouth, your saliva dripping on the black leather.

"I wish I could fuck you like this in front of him", his voice was lost in the music of your bodies, "I wish he could see what a trifle his effort was"

He was saying that but his annoyance was clear. Whatever was the case, you could not help but bless Dazai as Fyodor sent you closer and closer to heaven. You felt the wetness of a tear running down your cheek. Your mind could not begin to process what was happening. You felt Fyodor's warmth as he pounded inside you, his hands wrapped around your naked body in the middle of a guards' room.

He changed his angle. The tip of his length kissed your cervix, your whine echoing around the walls. He removed his hand from your mouth and placed it on your hips, much like the other. He granted you a kiss on the side of your neck, his eyes searching for displeasure on your face. But there was none to be found. Your walls squeezed him tighter and he breathed heavily at the sensation. He grabbed your breast. He leaned in, close to your ear, and whispered, "You're squeezing me so tightly moya lyubov". He let his voice drop before he added in a grated tone, "Would you like me to make you mine?". He turned your body to the side, one of his hands holding up your leg. "Show me your face", he said, "I want to see it plead me to ruin you. That is the price of loving me"

Your mind was in a haze. One look at him was all it took to send it there. His words were coarse and domineering but his eyes were pleading for you like a man dying of thirst. He was drawing circles on your bud again, his thrusts quickening. He nipped on your ear as his warm essence filled you. You felt yourself let go, the knot in your stomach bursting and overflowing from your lower self. Your body trembled but he held you close to help you stand. He held your head and pulled you for a kiss.

"Good girl", he whispered against your lips, "Wait for me until we meet again. Whether that's in cuffs, or the end, or a life other than this one."

He pulled out and kissed you again, this time hugging your body from the front. He pulled a small metal needle-like object from his pocket and in a matter of moments your cuffs were unlocked. He placed his thumb on your lower lip, his face serious as ever.

"Wait for me to make you cum again", he said.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

¹ moya lyubov = моя любовь = my love

² lisichka = Лисичка = Little fox

#fyodor dostoevsky #bsd fyodor #bsd x reader #bsd smut #fyodor x reader #fyodor smut

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whyisaravenlike-awritingdesk · 4 months

Text

Begged & Borrowed Time (ao3, xxxi)

(Chapter thirty-one: After a week spent healing, Cassian is still trying to navigate the mating bond whilst struggling to keep his feelings in check.) (Prologue // previous chapter // next chapter)

As the early morning sun bathed Velaris in gold, Cassian stood in the centre of the House training ring and watched blood drip from his battered knuckles.

When he’d entered the ring an hour ago, he hadn’t bothered to wrap his hands.

And now, he was paying for it. His skin was torn, and each pass of the breeze against his damaged hands was like salt poured into an open wound, forcing a muted hiss to pass between his teeth as his blood pooled in the hollows between his fingers.

It might have helped, once— the training, the way he skipped through a sequence of moves with nothing but a training dummy as an opponent, his muscles burning with exertion after so long spent idle. But today, the knot of apprehension in his gut stayed, like no amount of physical strain could lessen the weight he carried in his chest.

A week had passed since that day in the library.

Every day since had been the damned same; the sun broke over the mountains only to leave Nesta sitting silent and solemn by Elain’s bedside, all but wringing her hands as Cassian looked on, drifting towards her like he was pulled by something magnetic, keeping his face carefully blank as Elain spent only sporadic moments awake. And when she was lucid enough to speak…

Not yet, she whispered, over and over and over, like something within her had been irrevocably broken when she’d been tossed into that Cauldron. Not yet.

Cassian could have sworn the blood had turned to ice in his veins when he’d first heard it - when he’d knocked on the door to Nesta’s room an hour after she’d all but ran from him in the library, and he’d heard the concern in her voice as she nodded to Elain’s room and asked if he’d ever encountered anything like this before.

He slammed his bleeding fist into the dummy now— sent the frame rattling, precarious.

For Nesta, Cassian had shrugged. He’d seen thousands of soldiers emerge from battle, he’d told her, and no two of them had ever dealt with the horror they’d endured in the same way. Perhaps, he’d said, this was just Elain’s way of coping. Sealing herself off inside her mind and letting her dreams take over.

For Nesta, he’d forced the small smile that passed his lips to be comforting and assured, burying every single hint of apprehension even as unease snaked a path through him, something in his bones begging him to back away.

Because no, he’d never seen anything like Elain Archeron lying still in her bed, talking in riddles.

But Nesta had looked so utterly lost that he’d tried to console her anyway, and even though something deep within him shied away from Elain and whatever it was that she had taken from the Cauldron - because not one part of him thought it was natural, that glazed look in her eyes when she spoke - he forced himself to sit in that room anyway, in a chair the House had left out for him, right beside Nesta’s own.

He didn’t know what else to do; where else to be other than by her side.

And every night, when Cassian closed his eyes, all he saw was that look on Nesta’s face— despondent, trying hard to fight the pain, and bowing beneath it as she turned and walked away from him in that library a week ago.

Another punch landed, his blood staining the cotton fabric that made up the dummy’s torso. Above, the sun was bright— blinding, harsh.

It fucking haunted him, whenever he thought of how they’d sat there on that sofa in the library. All the things he’d said about his mother, and she about hers. His father, too.

I don’t think he deserved you anyway.

It had been a moment of such aching vulnerability, when his soul was laid as bare as hers, and in five whole centuries of living, he’d never felt so exposed. He remembered, once, when his armour had been damaged in battle and he’d simply torn the breastplate away, leaving his chest prone to the sharp edge of an enemy blade. Somehow even that didn’t compare to that single conversation in that library. There was no more armour he could don around her now, no more protection he could call on. It had made his heart hurt in a way he’d never known before, and the damn thing only seemed to beat for her now anyway, but…

Cassian had longed to tell her, in that moment, that she might as well have scarred her name right into his chest for all that he belonged to her.

A brutal snarl ripped from his throat as his fist collided, unforgiving, with the dummy once more, and breathing hard he wiped the sweat from his brow with the back one aching hand, already bruised.

He loved her. And she wouldn’t let him say it.

And he wasn’t fool enough to think it wasn’t starting to take a toll, spending every day grounded, stuck up here waiting for his body to convalesce whilst he sought, evermore, to strike the right balance between navigating the bond that suddenly felt so much stronger these days, and keeping the damn thing a secret. It was a dangerous line to walk, and if he thought he’d been protective of her before… Gods, now he spent every moment finding some reason to reach out and touch her. To brush his fingers across her shoulder, to hold her hand, to tuck a stray piece of hair behind her ear. He’d always been one that needed touch after growing up so starved of it, but it was so much more intense with Nesta.

Everything was so much more intense with Nesta, and yet he had to go slowly, to consider every move in a way that he hadn’t needed to before the Cauldron.

But with every day that passed, the anger in him seemed to build and even as his body healed, frustration and desperation made a wasteland of the heart inside his chest every time he looked into her face and saw those eyes, distant.

And today… Today was a bad day.

Today felt like breaking point.

The blood smeared across his knuckles was proof of it.

Whatever power it was that Nesta had taken from the Cauldron, they still hadn’t spoken of it.

Cassian had learned to watch the silver in her eyes. To notice when it flared. He didn’t think it was a coincidence that it was only when those eyes were more silver than blue that she’d pull away from him, or that only when her hands grew unnaturally cold did she not want him to touch her.

There’s something… up with her, Cass.

Rhys’ words from when Cassian had first awoken were never far from Cassian’s mind these days.

Even the fucking House seemed to be aware of it— responding to her. Twice now Cassian had noticed the House give something when Nesta hadn’t asked for it, and it was odd, he thought, because the House had always been so infuriatingly literal with commands in the past, and yet… only the other day, it had started a fire without instruction when Nesta shivered. Had brought her tea when she seemed to need it.

He’d brushed it off, chalked it up to something strange he didn’t have the capacity to deal with right now, but…

Odd.

With a heavy sigh, Cassian dropped his fists from the training dummy. He shook the tension from his shoulders and stretched his wings until it hurt, feeling the sun’s heat sinking through the sensitive membrane like a balm, a soothing press against injuries that were only almost healed. He tipped his head back and let the same light wash across his face, closing his eyes and stretching his wings as far as they would go.

He could almost get them to full extension.

Another day or so and he’d be able to start flying again, and as he looked down over the city, he felt his blood thrumming in his veins, simmering with a week’s worth of restlessness. It was hard to shake, that unsteady feeling he got when he’d been grounded for too long. Illyrians weren’t born to be confined, or to keep their feet on solid ground for too long. Cabin fever set in quickly when those that had once tasted the skies had flight robbed from them— it was why Rhys had brought him to the House of Wind to heal, Cassian supposed. Being up so high and being able to taste the wind alleviated some of the frustration, but still. There was too many things Cassian needed to do, and combined with the absolute mess of a situation they were currently in…. Was it any wonder his head was too loud?

He rotated his wrists, loosening the stiffness that had gathered as he’d punched the dummy until his skin split. The wind brushed his cheeks, cooling the heat, and as he looked to the horizon he heard the call of the gulls over the docks, carried to him on the breeze. It still wasn’t enough to calm the tides inside him.

Turning his face, he looked to the smooth rock walls of the House, clay-red against the bright blue sky, and when a shadow darkened the archway that lead inside, for a foolish moment Cassian thought Nesta had come to find him.

For a foolish moment, his heart skipped.

Foolish, because it wasn’t Nesta leaning in the rounded doorway.

Azriel’s shadows pooled at his feet, like they were loath to slink into the sunlight, and dressed head-to-toe in his habitual black, he might as well have been a void where the light went to die, absorbing the sunlight entirely as he folded his arms and observed the training ring from a distance.

No long stretch of healing had been required for Azriel. The spymaster had woken from the sleep the healers had put him under and been strong enough to walk about a day later, the poison entirely gone from his system. That had been four days ago, and now Azriel’s gait was smooth and even as he stepped outside, his face blank and impassive as the shadows that had hung in the shadows skirted the edge of the House roof, seeking shade. Only when Azriel was a pace or two away from the painted lines that marked the edges of ring did he speak.

“I spoke to Rhys,” he said, straight to the point, with about as much of a hello as Cassian figured he’d get. “He’s asked me to fly to Cretea tomorrow to see if we can find Miryam and Drakon.”

Cassian scowled at the dummy, fingers flexing as the urge to punch it again gathered like wildfire in his hands. “Let me guess— he wants to ask if their forces could supplement our own.”

Az nodded.

“And he still hasn’t heard anything? About Hybern?”

Grimly, Azriel shook his head.

Rhys had been monitoring the situation on the continent, trying to figure out the king’s next move, but even though Az’s shadows hadn’t been able to infiltrate Hybern again, the High Lord was already on the defensive, scouting out forces that Cassian might be able to direct in battle. The siphon on the back of his hand glimmered at the thought of the conflict, the promise of warfare, and like Rhys, already Cassian was preparing for the fight ahead. Violence pulsed beneath his skin, searching for an outlet, looking for blood to spill.

He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t longing for a fight.

And for Nesta… oh, for Nesta he’d take his retribution. Would claw it free.

The King of Hybern would die at his hand.

Brutal and bloody and slow— he’d never exactly been one for regicide, but this was a death he’d savour. For what he’d done to Nesta, Cassian was going to tear the skin from the bastard’s bones, and he was going to relish every moment of it.

Sapphire siphons flickered, like the warrior in Azriel could sense the rage in Cassian’s chest plumbing new, wholly-murderous, depths.

“You alright?” the spymaster asked, his eyes shrewd. He glanced at the blood smeared across Cassian’s knuckles as his shadows skirted the General’s boots.

Cassian laughed, bitter. “No.”

Az swiped a roll of cotton off the trestle table by the marked edge of the ring, stepping forward, crossing that line, and holding it out for Cassian to wrap his hands. Cassian only shook his head and turned away.

He needed to feel the pain.

“You know that it’s not your fault, Cass,” Azriel said slowly, dropping the hand that held the roll of cotton.

Cassian didn’t bother to wonder at the way Az had cut right to the heart of what was bothering him. He’d always had an uncanny ability to sense exactly what was wrong, and when he glanced at Cassian’s bloodied fist again, it was like he knew without Cassian needing to say it that the blood he spilled today was spent in the hope that it might wash his hands clean of the blood Hybern had spilled at the Archeron manor that night.

Cassian’s face darkened as he turned to his brother, his back to the sun. “Yes it is,” he countered. “Of course it is.”

“Then it’s as much my fault as yours,” Az insisted. “I was the one who told you everything was fine, and I was the one who only sent a shadow to Nesta’s house, not Elain’s. I was the one who didn’t fucking know Nesta was staying with her sister.”

“She’s my mate,” Cassian shot back, reducing his voice to a low hiss as he shook his head, sharp. “I promised to protect her. To protect them both. I’m the one that broke that vow, not you.”

Another tortured laugh left him. It didn’t matter that Nesta had all but said she didn’t blame him. Didn’t matter that he’d already had some version of this conversation before, with Rhys. He’d never been particularly good at letting things go.

“What sort of fucking general does that make me?” he asked darkly, clenching his fists so hard his nails cut into the skin of his palms. “What fucking hope do we have for this war, when we can’t even protect the ones who matter most?”

In the silence Azriel’s face shifted, his eyes burning as he said nothing. He held Cassian’s eye for a long moment, something unspoken passing between them, a kind of understanding only a brother was capable of. And then, still silent, Azriel took off his jacket and began wrapping his hand in the cotton Cassian had forsaken. Cassian only turned back to the dummy, the anger beneath his skin needing an outlet fast, but this time, when he swung his fist, Azriel’s own hand darted out first, catching Cassian’s knuckles in the centre of his palm. The Shadowsinger’s own scarred fingers curled around Cassian’s bleeding fist, his grip tight as he pushed the General back, lowering his chin and widening his stance.

“It won’t happen again,” Azriel swore. “Ever.”

Determination lined Azriel’s frame, his jaw set with stone-cold purpose as he looked, unflinching and unwavering, at his brother. And suddenly Cassian saw it, the violence that lined every inch of Azriel just as it lined every inch of him. Az didn’t like to be bested, and Hybern had bested them thrice, now. The only difference was that whereas Cassian’s anger was palpable and heavy, Azriel’s was cold and slick, sharpened to a lethal point.

And both of them, it seemed, were ready to fight it out.

Az offered him the cotton again, stepping further into the ring. “Wrap your hands,” he said firmly. “I’d rather you not get blood on my shirt.”

Cassian scoffed. “If you’re scared of getting a little bloody, Az, why the fuck are you even here?”

Azriel gave him a sly smirk. “Oh, I won’t be the one getting bloody.”

He shifted, making circles around the inner edge of the ring as Cassian twisted to keep track. His mind quieted entirely, his focus only on sparring now, like Az had known that pummelling the dummy wasn’t enough— had known that this was what Cassian had really needed.

“Wrap your hands,” Az said again, tossing the roll of cotton across the ring.

With one hand, Cassian caught it.

Slowly, he wrapped the material around his battered knuckles, and when he was done, when he brought his fists in line with his eyes, Azriel nodded again, dipping his chin before he looked up at the General and, with a feral grin, said,

“Let’s go, then.”

***

It wasn’t just Cassian’s knuckles that were bruised and bloody when they were done.

Both the General and the Spymaster were breathing hard, a thin sheen of sweat slicking both of their foreheads. As Cassian absently rubbed a hand over a rib that Azriel had landed three good punches to, Az filled two glasses with the water from the carafe the House had delivered to them. Already beneath the Shadowsinger’s jaw, a bruise was beginning to turn purple.

“Better?” he asked as he passed off one glass of chilled water into Cassian’s sore hands.

Cassian drank deeply, hardly pausing long enough to nod in answer. The fight had smoothed the sharpest edges of his temper, and though it still felt like tides were raging inside his chest, it was more bearable than it had been that morning, at least.

Idle, Az leaned a hip against the low trestle table set against the wall.

“Nesta’s hurting now,” he said slowly, keeping his voice low and careful, “but when the dust settles…”

Cassian stiffened. Already he knew exactly what it was that Azriel was about to say, could tell by the way his brother lifted his brows with something like sympathy, his eyes holding nothing but the truth as he tilted his head. But Cassian didn’t want to hear it— never wanted to hear it.

“Cass,” Az continued quietly, “isn’t this all you wanted?”

Cassian slammed his glass down.

“No,” he said flatly, definitively, leaving no room for argument.

Mother bless him, Az backed off without another word, raising his palms in surrender.

“Alright,” he said, but his tone made it clear that he didn’t quite believe him, and Cassian couldn’t even fucking blame him, because suddenly he thought back to Mor, and the tear that had slipped silent down her face at the cabin in Windhaven when she’d told him about the human she’d once loved. The human she’d lost. The grief had been written all over her, and Cassian had felt a sinking in his gut when he looked at her and had to wonder if he was looking at what, exactly, the future held for him.

And all those nights he’d spent fearing a life without Nesta in it... they were meaningless now.

But he couldn’t say it out loud.

Would never say it out loud.

Az cleared his throat, letting his shadows gather at his wrists before finally letting his hands drop. He tilted his head back, took a deep breath as he filled his lungs with the morning air.

“Rhys said he’s coming up for dinner tonight, by the way,” he said, changing the subject in a move that Cassian was grateful for. “Mor and Amren, too.”

Cassian only nodded again, a silent acknowledgement as he straightened the leather half-gauntlet that housed the siphons on the back of one hand.

“Will you ask Nesta to join us?” Az asked.

Cassian lifted his eyes, hesitating as he looked up at his brother from beneath a bunched brow. As if it were that simple— as if it were an invitation Nesta might somehow accept. He was already certain that he knew her answer and knew it would be a resounding no, and it must have shown on his face because Azriel let out a gentle sigh as he pushed off the table.

“Rhys mentioned that Mor wasn’t…” He trailed off, took another weary breath. Around his wrists, his shadows tightened, grew darker.

“Nesta’s number one fan?” Cassian supplied.

Az nodded grimly. “Mm.”

“She needs time,” Cassian said, his voice strained. Tired— he was so fucking tired, and he thought that Azriel must have known, because the Shadowsinger clapped him lightly on the shoulder as he plucked up his jacket, already preparing to leave. With a small smile, Az said,

“Ask her about tonight.” His tone was soft, a source of gentle encouragement. “Even if you know her answer. Ask her anyway.”

***

“I must say,” Amren said dryly, swirling the liquid in her glass as beyond the wide windows of the House dining room, the sun sank behind the mountains, “after everything Feyre told us, I was rather looking forward to finally meeting the eldest Archeron tonight.”

Seated off to her right, Mor flicked her eyes to the ceiling, pausing briefly as she cut into a slice of roasted chicken. “Perhaps you should’ve been the one to take her clothes, then,” she muttered, her elegant fingers tightening around her knife as she tossed her head back.

Across the table, Cassian’s lip curled, a quiet snarl slipping between his teeth as, too late, Mor clamped her lips together. Avoiding his piercing stare, Mor busied herself by plucking up her wine, and even though some kind of guilt flickered briefly across her face, Cassian wasn’t fool enough to expect an apology. As predicted, Nesta had declined the invitation to dinner out of fear of leaving Elain, but as Cassian glanced between Mor and Amren now, he thought it was probably for the best that she’d decided to sit this one out. The words thrown to the wolves seemed to come to mind.

Beside Mor, Rhys rolled his star-flecked eyes.

“How are they? Nesta and Elain?” he asked, leaning back in the very same chair he’d occupied the first night he’d brought Feyre here. A deliberate choice, no doubt, and consciously or unconsciously, none of the rest of them had chosen to sit in the chair Feyre had that night, leaving the space to Rhys’ right conspicuously empty.

Cassian shook his head as he poured himself a generous glass of wine. “Elain is awake, but she’s not exactly present. She speaks in riddles.” The table was silent; Amren’s face was more curious than anything, but Rhys’ eyes were dark with concern. Cassian forced himself to clear his throat, taking a large sip of wine before he continued, knowing that the words he was about to speak were ones he hadn’t yet found the strength to voice in front of Nesta. “I— don’t know how much the Cauldron affected her mind.”

Grim silence answered him.

“And Nesta…”

Where did he even begin?

Nesta was exactly who she had been the first time he’d met her, a maelstrom of rage and fury that she tried so hard to contain and conceal. Every time he looked at her, he saw the pain limning her features, exactly the way it had that day in her father’s estate, when he’d stayed behind as Rhys and Az had brought down the Attor. The woman who had pulled away from him in the library was the one that had been so angry that first night in her father’s dining room, and only when she lowered her guard now did Cassian catch a glimpse of the Nesta that had, until recently, clung to him and let him see the sides of her she kept so deeply hidden.

It killed him to think she’d gone back behind her walls, drawn a line in the sand that he could only occasionally cross.

Rhys scowled. “Nesta is Nesta.”

Cassian set down his wineglass with a growl rumbling deep in his chest. “And what the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

His brother sighed, waving a hand in a gesture so weary it might have given Cassian pause had Rhys said literally anything else. “Come on, Cass. She’s entirely Illyrian in spirit.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” Cassian said, his voice low, just a shade shy of combative. Beside him, Azriel’s shadows had skittered up his master’s arms to wreathe his shoulders in darkness, like they could sense the fight brewing beneath Cassian’s skin and had flocked to Az like armour.

But the Shadowsinger himself had stilled, too.

Still staying at the House of Wind, Azriel had been the only other member of Rhys’ Inner Circle besides Cassian to make a fucking effort with the eldest of Feyre’s sisters. Cassian had even entered the private library the other day to find Nesta and Azriel sitting in companionable silence on opposite ends of one of the largest couches, a book held in each of their hands. Neither of them had looked up as Cassian entered, but Az’s shadows had skirted along the edge of the couch, and Cassian hadn’t said a word as he strode past them, knowing that Nesta would have his head if he disturbed her reading. He’d only touched her shoulder lightly as he passed, heading for the other end of the library.

“It could be a bad thing,” Rhys pointed out dryly, dragging Cassian out of his thoughts and doing nothing to calm the temper that was building like a storm within his veins. “We still don’t have any idea what power she came out of that Cauldron with.”

At that, Amren leaned forward in her chair at the head of the table, setting down her glass containing something that didn’t look even the slightest bit like wine. Her sharp eyes glinted, reminding Cassian of the birds of prey that hunted deep in the Illyrian mountains.

“You should find out what exactly she can do with that silver in her eyes. Start training it.”

Cassian whipped his head towards her. With Rhys opposite him and Amren off to his side, he couldn’t help but feel cornered.

The ancient fae only sniffed delicately and dragged a gold-ringed finger around the rim of her glass before adding, “I’ll train her myself, if you don’t want to get too close to whatever it is that she stole from the Cauldron.”

“Mother knows what might happen if she doesn’t train it,” Rhys contributed, his eyes dark and troubled. “She needs to learn how to control it—“

“Or maybe we should just give her the time she needs to figure things out for herself first,” Cassian growled, his words slipping through teeth so tightly gritted it was a wonder he could open his jaw at all. “You’re asking her to run way before she can walk.”

Amren hummed. “She’ll need to run, boy, if Hybern reaches these shores.” Her lips split in a smile that showed her teeth. “Why waste time waiting for her to come to terms with that power, when what we need is for her to bring death and destruction raining down on our enemy?”

“She is not your fucking weapon.”

“Not yet,” Amren shrugged.

Cassian snarled again, the anger a living thing beneath his skin, a second pulse that had his heartbeat starting to quicken.

It had never bothered him before, when Amren spoke about him like he was only as good as the number of punches he could throw, or only as worthy as the number of legions he could lead. But when she turned that same perspective on Nesta…

Rhys was silent.

Cassian wasn’t a fool. He knew exactly why Rhys had sat in that chair tonight. It was a deliberate attempt at remembering another dinner, another time. But Cassian couldn’t sit back and think of better times whilst Amren and his brother spoke of his mate like she was some kind of tool to be utilised.

“Don’t do this,” he said darkly, the fury sinking into his blood, calcifying in his bones until it was solid and silent, but no less potent. His eyes were hard when he looked at his brother, met those violet eyes and refused to look away. “Using her like a weapon— now that’s entirely Illyrian in spirit.”

Rhys’ eyes guttered, the few stars that had shone there swallowed as Amren pursed her lips.

Midnight claws brushed against the defences in Cassian’s mind; a silent plea for entry.

I’m sorry, Rhys murmured when Cassian dropped his shield, saying nothing as his brother’s voice echoed, guilt-ridden, inside his mind. I know I said I’d back off, but with Feyre still in Spring and us still no nearer to knowing what exactly Hybern is planning to do…

Cassian met his brother’s eye across the table.

I know, he answered. I’m just as fucking exhausted with all this as you are. But don’t forget, Rhys, that Feyre might be your mate, but Nesta is mine. I won’t push her to do anything she doesn’t want to. These powers, whatever they are… she’s fucking terrified of them.

Rhys lowered his chin, having the good sense to at least look chastened. The silent conversation hung between them, heavy, but Cassian kept the memory of Nesta all but fleeing that library locked behind his shield, refusing to think of the way she’d looked so broken. Rhys said nothing more, like for once he couldn’t quite find the words, and Cassian had nothing else to say either. There was nothing else left.

And then Azriel - Mother bless him - cleared his throat.

“Well, whatever her power is, the House certainly seems to like Nesta more than any of us, now,” he said lightly.

Rhys frowned, straightening as he severed the mental bridge that connected him to Cassian. “The House isn’t sentient.”

Cassian settled back in his chair. Took a breath. Took several. When he lifted his wine to his lips and drank deep, he forced himself to calm as he looked at his brother and said,

“I don’t know. We might have always thought so, but…”

Az hummed. “Even I’ve noticed it, the past couple of days.”

“Noticed what?” Mor asked, the bracelets at her wrists singing as she linked her fingers beneath her chin, resting her elbows on the table’s polished surface.

“It seems to anticipate what she needs— what she wants,” Azriel answered.

Az had been there, in the private library, when the House had delivered Nesta a fresh cup of tea when the one she already had had gone cold. Cassian had been by the window, looking out longingly over the city, wanting to feel the wind beneath him, when Nesta had looked up in surprise. Azriel had quirked a brow, asked her if she had somehow found a way to communicate with the House silently, but Nesta had simply shrugged and said the House seemed to just… know what she wanted. Az had met Cassian’s eye curiously, and Cassian had frowned as he tilted his head, but ultimately they had both moved on because… well, what explanation did they have?

Rhys’ face turned contemplative. “You’re telling me the House’s magic is changing?”

In tandem, both Cassian and Azriel shrugged.

“It’s possible, I suppose.” Rhys trailed off, tapping a finger against his chin as he mused. “Whatever power she’s been given… It does feel familiar to me, somehow. Perhaps the House has... latched onto her. The High Lord that spelled it so many years ago may have had a similar power to whatever Nesta’s is. Perhaps the House can sense it.”

Cassian shrugged again. Perhaps Rhys was right— perhaps that was all it was, similar magics reacting to one another. But silently he couldn’t help but wonder if the House hadn’t also begun to sense how great Nesta’s power was, and had already begun to yield to her. Or was that just because he’d been yielding to her every day since he’d met her?

Mor flicked her gleaming blonde hair over her shoulder as she waved a hand. “This is entirely too serious a topic for such a nice dinner,” she declared, raising her glass. “Let’s just thank the House for such good wine and leave it at that, sentient or not.”

Rhys rolled his eyes. “It’s still my wine the House brings up from the cellars, you know. How often do you thank me?”

Mor only brushed him off, practically shooing him with a flick of her fingers that had her rings clinking against one another like chimes. “I thank you plenty,” she countered. “You get to enjoy my delightful company, and isn’t that recompense enough?”

Rhys snorted.

Even Amren smirked a little, and with the banter that came so naturally between them lightening the atmosphere, the tension that had, only a moment ago, been a noose around Cassian’s neck loosened. In good-natured disagreement, Rhys rolled his eyes again, nudging Mor with an elbow in the ribs that she dodged so neatly the wine in her glass barely even sloshed. And just like that, the mood shifted.

“Anyway,” the blonde said brightly, steering the topic and leaning forwards until both elbows rested on the table. “How are the wings holding up, Cass?”

She nodded to the wings at his back, the membrane soaking up the warmth from the fireplace behind him. Wordlessly, Cassian stretched them until he could take no more, managing to get them only an inch away from full extension before he grimaced and let them rest again. Mor’s face was contemplative, and though she smiled softly to see how much he had healed already, there was something else in her eyes too— a spark in her eye that Cassian hadn’t seen for a while.

“How long till you can fly normally again?” she asked, her tone one that was casual on the surface, but one that he’d long since learned meant she was up to something.

“Too long,” Cassian grumbled in answer.

“A month at least, I bet,” Mor said, those familiar eyes sparkling with mischief. “I’d stake six gold coins on it.”

She turned her attention to Azriel, a quirk of one perfect brow matching the curve of her lips as she grinned in silent question.

The Shadowsinger hummed, contemplative as he glanced sidelong as his brother. “Three weeks,” he countered, laying a hand on the table. “Ten gold coins.”

Mor snorted, but nodded once before extending a hand for Azriel to shake. Cassian looked on, wry amusement pulling the tension from his bones, and when Az looked at him and muttered, darkly, you’d better be back flying a hundred leagues a day within three weeks, Cassian let out a dry laugh and shook his head.

“Pricks,” he muttered. “I can’t believe you’re betting on this.”

Az shrugged. “You’d do the same.”

And Cassian said nothing, because Azriel was right. He fucking would— had made his fair share of stupid bets on his friends over the centuries. So he couldn’t argue as Mor sank back into her chair with a grin. He only rolled his eyes and raised his middle finger.

Mor laughed, and Azriel’s lips split into a small smirk as, at the head of the table, Amren drank from her cup and rolled her eyes with something like indulgence as Rhys sat back and watched them.

And for a moment Cassian might have been able to convince himself that it was fifty years ago— that they were back up here before the curse had torn them apart, laughing the way they used to, the city at their feet, the stars in the sky gleaming down on them as they depleted Rhys’ wine cellar.

But then he thought of Feyre— of Nesta.

He glanced to the door.

It might have been fifty years ago, but for the shadows under Rhys’ eyes that were proof of how much Feyre had forever altered the high lord.

Might have been fifty years ago, but for the way Cassian kept glancing to the door, the bald hope on his face that he’d see her the proof of how much Nesta had forever altered him.

And still he looked. He laughed, and he drank with his brothers, and still he looked.

And he waited.

Taglist: @asnowfern @podemechamardek @c-e-d-dreamer @lady-winter-sunrise @starryblueskies7 @melphss @sv0430 @that-little-red-head @misswonderflower @fwiggle @tanishab @xstarlightsupremex @burningsnowleopard @hiimheresworld @wannawriteyouabook @hereforthenessian @valkyriesupremacy @kale-theteaqueen @moodymelanist @talkfantasytome

#nessian #nessian fic #begged & borrowed time #two updates in the space of one week what is happening #this is not a new precedent though lets not get overexcited #for starters there definitely wont be a new chapter next weekend because i'll be seeing taylor swift lololol

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