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fr0stf4ll · 2 months ago

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Forge of Starlight - Part 15

paring; Azriel x reader

summary; In the heart of Velaris, a skilled blacksmith's quiet life is turned upside down when unexpected bonds begin to form with the enigmatic Spymaster of the Night Court. As she navigates the challenges of her craft and the complexities of newfound relationships, she discovers that love and loyalty may be the strongest forces of all in a world where darkness often lingers just beyond the light.

word count ; 7.2k

warning; smut :)))

notes; Hey everyone, I hope that you have enjoyed the story so far. Unfortunately we are getting close to the end, the next part is the last one before the epilogue of the story :(((( I really love reading your comments so please do not hesitate to write literally anything ! I was also wondering if you would enjoy a bonus part, taking place when Feyre and her sisters are in the night court ( so like 200 year after the story) ? bisous bisous <333

here is the link for part 14 or part 16

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Cassian lounged on one of the sofas in the Townhouse living room, idly swirling a glass of whiskey as he stared at the ceiling. He sighed heavily, his wings draped over the back of the couch, as he glanced over at Mor, who was curled up in a chair with a book.

“Well,” Cassian began, a smirk playing on his lips, “it’s been three weeks, I think.”

Mor looked up from her book, raising an eyebrow. “Three weeks since what?”

Cassian chuckled, taking a sip of his drink. “Three weeks since Azriel vanished into Y/N’s apartment and hasn’t shown his face around here.”

Mor rolled her eyes, setting her book down on the arm of the chair. “When I told Az not to come home, I didn’t think he would take it that seriously.”

Cassian laughed, a deep, rumbling sound that filled the room. “You know our dear brother, Mor. When it comes to Y/N, he’s always been a bit… intense.”

Mor shook her head, but there was a fond smile on her lips. “I think it’s time we remind him that he’s not a prisoner in her apartment. What do you say we go pay them a visit?”

Cassian grinned, setting his glass down on the table. “I’m in. Let’s go rescue them from their self-imposed isolation.”

With that, they both stood up and made their way out of the Townhouse, the cool air of Velaris refreshing after the warmth of the living room. As they approached your apartment, Cassian exchanged a knowing glance with Mor, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

Cassian knocked on the door, a little louder than necessary, and the two of them waited. There was a moment of silence before the door creaked open, revealing you standing there in a nightgown that looked like it had seen better days. Your hair was tousled, and your neck was covered in hickeys, evidence of the past few weeks spent in Azriel’s company.

“Hello, everyone,” you greeted them, your voice a little groggy from sleep.

Cassian’s eyes widened, and he let out a bark of laughter. “It’s been three weeks, guys. Three weeks!”

Before you could respond, Azriel appeared behind you, looking just as disheveled, if not more so. He was wearing nothing but his underwear, his chest and neck also adorned with a series of hickeys. His expression was a mix of irritation and exhaustion as he took in the sight of Mor and Cassian standing at the door.

Azriel scowled at Cassian. “And it’s not enough,” he grumbled, before reaching past you and slamming the door shut in their faces.

Cassian and Mor burst into laughter, leaning against each other for support. Inside, they could hear you scolding Azriel, your voice muffled but clearly annoyed.

“Azriel, get back here!” you snapped, your tone exasperated.

Cassian shook his head, still chuckling. “Azriel needs to stop being so horny all the time.”

The door opened again, and you stood there with an exasperated expression, though there was a hint of a smile on your lips. “Sorry about that,” you said, stepping aside to let them in. “Come on in.”

Cassian grinned as he entered, opening his arms to hug you. “It’s good to see you, Y/N—”

Before he could finish, Azriel reappeared, his eyes narrowed as he saw Cassian approaching you. Without warning, he delivered a swift, powerful punch to Cassian’s jaw, sending him stumbling back.

“Hands off,” Azriel growled, his voice deadly serious, his eyes flashing with a protective fury that left no room for doubt—he wasn’t joking.

Cassian rubbed his jaw, wincing at the impact, but his eyes gleamed with a mixture of surprise and a bit of respect. “Alright, alright, Az. Point taken.”

You stepped between them, placing a hand on Azriel’s chest as you shot him a stern look. “Az, that’s enough. He’s just being friendly.”

Azriel’s gaze softened slightly as he looked down at you, his jaw still clenched. “He needs to know his place.”

Mor sighed, stepping forward to place a hand on Cassian’s arm. “Let’s not start a fight in the middle of Y/N’s living room, okay?”

You shook your head, laughing at the scene in front of you. “Az, go put some pants on,” you said, pushing him gently towards the bedroom.

Azriel grumbled something under his breath but complied, disappearing down the hallway to find something more appropriate to wear. Meanwhile, you led Mor and Cassian into the living room, where you started preparing tea for everyone.

As the water boiled, Mor leaned against the counter, watching you with an amused expression. “So, I take it things have been… intense?”

You chuckled, shaking your head. “You could say that. But it’s been good. Really good.”

Cassian, now nursing a sore jaw from Azriel’s earlier punch, grinned as he sat down at the table. “It’s good to see you both so happy. Even if Az has apparently decided to take his obsession with you to a whole new level.”

You rolled your eyes, but there was a warmth in your expression. “He’s just… dedicated.”

Mor smirked. “That’s one way to put it.”

Azriel returned, now dressed in a pair of pants, though his protective stance was still evident as he sat down next to you, his hand resting on your thigh. His eyes flicked over to Cassian, making sure there were no lingering thoughts of challenging his claim.

The four of you spent the next hour catching up, the tension between Azriel and Cassian easing into a playful, if still slightly cautious, banter. Mor teased you both relentlessly, but there was an underlying warmth in her words that made it clear she was happy for you.

As you all sipped your tea, the conversation flowed easily, laughter filling the room. And though Azriel’s protective nature was still on full display, it was clear that he was content, happy even, to share this part of his life with the people he cared about most.

As you leaned into his side, feeling the warmth of his presence, you couldn’t help but smile, knowing that this was just the beginning of a new chapter—one filled with love, friendship, and a healthy dose of Azriel’s fierce loyalty.

Life slowly began to return to a semblance of normalcy, or at least as normal as it could be after the whirlwind of emotions and events that had taken place over the past few weeks. You found yourself diving more deeply into your work with Rhysand, focusing on strengthening the relationships between the Night Court and the other courts, as well as various factions across the continent. It was a role that came naturally to you, given your extensive network and experience, and it allowed you to channel your energy into something productive, something that helped you heal.

Every morning, you would rise early and head to the Townhouse or the House of Wind, where Rhysand would be waiting with a new project or a new challenge. The two of you would pour over maps, letters, and contracts, discussing strategies and potential alliances. You found solace in the work, in the familiar rhythms of negotiation and diplomacy. It was a way to anchor yourself, to find purpose in the aftermath of loss.

But the smithy—the heart of your old life—remained cold and silent. The forge, once alive with the heat of fire and the rhythmic clang of metal on metal, now stood still. The tools were neatly arranged, untouched, waiting for the day when you would be ready to pick them up again. The weapons that lined the walls were dusted and polished, but they hung there like silent sentinels, reminders of a time when the shop was bustling with activity, with Alexander’s laughter echoing through the space.

You couldn’t bring yourself to light the forge just yet. The memories of Alex and Sellan were too fresh, too raw. The thought of stepping into the workshop without them there, without their voices and their presence, was more than you could bear. So, the smithy remained closed, its windows darkened, the door locked. A sign hung outside, simple and straightforward: “Closed for now. Come back soon.”

The villagers of Velaris understood, of course. Many had known Alex and had been touched by his enthusiasm and charm. They respected your need for time, for space, and they waited patiently for the day when the forge would come alive again.

In the meantime, your apartment became your sanctuary. It was where you spent your evenings, often in the company of Azriel. He had practically moved in, spending all of his nights and any free time he had with you. His presence was a comfort, a constant reminder that you were not alone. He had become your anchor, the one who held you together when the grief threatened to pull you under.

Azriel was careful not to push you, not to force you into anything you weren’t ready for. He was there when you needed him, whether it was for a quiet evening of reading by the fire, a late-night walk along the Sidra, or simply holding you as you drifted off to sleep. He seemed to understand that you needed time to heal, that the process couldn’t be rushed.

But even with the quiet comfort of Azriel’s presence, there were moments when the weight of your grief felt too heavy to bear. The nights were the hardest. Despite Azriel’s warmth beside you, there were times when you would wake in the middle of the night, your heart aching with the loss of Alex, with the memories of the life you had once led.

On those nights, Azriel would wake with you, sensing your distress even in his sleep. He would pull you close, his wings wrapping around you like a shield, and he would murmur words of comfort, his voice a soothing balm against the pain. In those moments, you would cling to him, finding strength in his unwavering support.

The apartment itself had undergone a transformation. Where once it had been a place of work and rest, it was now a place of healing. You had cleared out much of the old clutter, making space for new memories, new beginnings. The walls, once adorned with the tools of your trade, now held framed maps of the courts, gifts from Rhysand and Mor as a way of marking your new role in the Night Court’s diplomacy. The swords that had once been your pride and joy were now carefully arranged in a display case, a tribute to the craft that you still loved, even if you couldn’t bring yourself to practice it just yet.

And then there were the small touches of Azriel’s presence—his favorite books on your shelves, his jacket draped over the back of a chair, his boots by the door. It was as if he had always been there, a natural extension of your life, of your home.

The two of you settled into a routine, one that was both comforting and new. Azriel would leave early in the mornings for his duties as the Night Court’s spymaster, but he would always return to you in the evenings, bringing with him a quiet strength that helped you through the day. You would cook dinner together, often laughing at his attempts to assist in the kitchen, and then spend the rest of the night curled up together, talking about your day, sharing stories from the past, or simply enjoying each other’s company in silence.

Despite the new roles and the changes in your life, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was missing. The smithy, cold and quiet, was a constant reminder of the life you had left behind, of the boy who had been taken from you too soon. You knew that one day, you would have to face it, to open the doors and light the forge once more. But for now, you allowed yourself the time to grieve, to heal, and to find your way back to the craft that had once brought you so much joy.

And through it all, Azriel was there, a steady presence in the storm, his love for you unwavering. You knew that no matter how long it took, he would be by your side, helping you find your way back to the light.

——

You sat in the meeting room at the House of Wind, the soft murmur of conversation filling the space as you gathered with Rhysand and some members of the Inner Circle. The view from the large windows was breathtaking, the rolling mountains and the sparkling Sidra river below a constant reminder of the beauty and power of the Night Court. But today, your focus was on the task at hand—the next step in your work to strengthen the alliances between the courts.

For the past few weeks, you had been exchanging letters with Helion, the High Lord of the Day Court. The two of you had been discussing potential alliances, trade agreements, and exchanges of knowledge that could benefit both courts. Helion had always been a keen negotiator, and your conversations had been both challenging and rewarding, the two of you sparring with words as you hammered out the details of a possible agreement.

Today, you were to discuss the final details with Rhysand and the others before making your way to Helion’s court to solidify the arrangement. As you sipped your tea, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of anticipation. This was a significant step, not just for the Night Court, but for you personally. It was your first major diplomatic mission since you had taken on this role, and you were determined to see it through successfully.

Rhysand, seated at the head of the table, smiled warmly at you as he called the meeting to order. “Y/N, I want to start by saying how impressed we all are with the work you’ve done so far. Helion is not an easy man to negotiate with, but you’ve managed to make remarkable progress. I think I speak for everyone when I say we’re grateful to have you on our side.”

There was a murmur of agreement from the others—Mor, Cassian, and Amren—all of whom had been kept in the loop about your ongoing discussions with Helion.

“Thank you, Rhys,” you replied, a hint of a smile tugging at your lips. “But it’s not over yet. Helion is… well, he’s Helion. He’s charming and brilliant, but he’s also as stubborn as they come. We’ve agreed on most of the terms, but I’ll need to be there in person to finalize everything.”

Amren raised an eyebrow, her sharp gaze fixed on you. “And you’re prepared for that? Helion can be… persuasive when he wants to be.”

You nodded, understanding the weight behind her words. Helion’s reputation as a flirt was well-known, but you had handled his charm well enough during your correspondence. “I’m ready. We’ve built a good rapport, and I’m confident we can come to an agreement that benefits both courts.”

Cassian leaned back in his chair, his arms crossed over his broad chest. “And what exactly are we looking at in terms of this alliance? What’s Helion bringing to the table?”

You took a deep breath, ready to present the details. “Helion has proposed a mutual exchange of resources and knowledge. The Day Court is known for its vast libraries and magical artifacts, some of which they’re willing to share in exchange for our expertise in certain areas—specifically, some of the innovations we’ve developed in the Night Court. There’s also talk of a joint military training exercise between our forces and theirs, which could help strengthen both our defenses.”

Cassian nodded, his expression thoughtful. “A joint training exercise could be beneficial, especially with the state of things between the other courts. We could learn a lot from each other.”

Mor chimed in, a knowing smile on her face. “And let’s not forget the cultural exchange. Helion has expressed interest in visiting more often, perhaps even hosting some of our artists and scholars in his court.”

You nodded. “Exactly. It’s not just about trade and military might—it’s about fostering a deeper connection between our people. That’s something Helion values as much as we do.”

Rhysand steepled his fingers, his expression one of deep consideration. “It sounds like you’ve covered all the bases, Y/N. But I want to make sure you’re comfortable with this. Helion can be unpredictable, and we don’t want to put you in a situation where you feel out of your depth.”

You met Rhysand’s gaze, appreciating his concern. “I’m confident, Rhys. I’ve been through worse negotiations in my time, and I know how to handle Helion. Besides, this is important—for both our courts. I’m ready.”

There was a moment of silence as Rhysand considered your words. Finally, he nodded, a smile spreading across his face. “Very well. We’ll make the necessary arrangements for your trip to the Day Court. And don’t worry—you’ll have all the support you need.”

Azriel, who had been sitting quietly beside you, his presence a comforting anchor throughout the meeting, finally spoke up. “I’ll accompany Y/N to the Day Court. It’s best if she has someone there who knows how to navigate Helion’s court, and I can ensure her safety.”

You shot Azriel a grateful look, knowing that his presence would not only offer protection but also give you an added layer of confidence. “Thank you, Az. I’d appreciate that.”

Rhysand’s smile widened slightly as he glanced between the two of you, clearly approving of Azriel’s suggestion. “Perfect. You’ll both leave in a few days, once the final details are settled.”

As the meeting wrapped up, the others began discussing the logistical aspects of the trip—travel plans, security measures, and what to expect once you arrived at the Day Court. But your mind was already turning to the task ahead, to the negotiations that awaited you.

When the meeting finally concluded, Rhysand placed a hand on your shoulder, his expression serious. “You’ve got this, Y/N. I have complete faith in you. Helion will find that the Night Court doesn’t back down easily.”

You smiled, the weight of the responsibility settling comfortably on your shoulders. “I won’t let you down, Rhys. We’ll make this alliance happen.”

With that, you and Azriel left the House of Wind, ready to prepare for your journey to the Day Court. As you walked side by side, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of anticipation—a feeling that this trip would mark a new chapter in your life, one where you were no longer just the blacksmith who had lost so much, but someone who was ready to forge new paths, to create new alliances, and to find strength in the bonds you were building.

The morning of your departure was crisp and clear, the kind of day that promised good weather for travel. You stood outside the House of Wind, waiting for Azriel to join you. The anticipation of the journey ahead filled you with a mix of excitement and a touch of nervousness. This was your first diplomatic mission in your new role, and though you were confident in your abilities, there was always an element of the unknown when dealing with someone as formidable as Helion.

Azriel arrived shortly, dressed in his usual black attire, his wings tucked neatly behind him. His presence was reassuring, a steady anchor amidst the swirling thoughts in your mind. He carried your travel pack easily, slinging it over his shoulder as if it weighed nothing.

“Ready?” he asked, his gaze softening as it met yours.

You nodded, offering him a small smile. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

With a final glance at the House of Wind, the two of you took to the skies, Azriel’s powerful wings beating steadily as he carried you across the lands toward the Day Court. The flight was long, but the scenery was breathtaking—rolling hills, dense forests, and sparkling rivers spread out beneath you, a patchwork of Prythian’s diverse landscapes.

As you neared the borders of the Day Court, the air grew warmer, the sunlight more intense. The transition between courts was marked by a change in the landscape, with the lush green of the Night Court giving way to the golden fields and vibrant flowers that characterized Helion’s domain. The Day Court was known for its perpetual sunshine, a stark contrast to the shadows and mystery of the Night Court.

When you finally arrived, the grandeur of the Day Court’s palace took your breath away. It was a sprawling structure of gleaming white marble, with towering columns and wide terraces that overlooked gardens bursting with color. The air was filled with the scent of blooming flowers, and the sound of laughter and music drifted from the open windows. It was a place of light and life, a perfect reflection of the High Lord who ruled it.

Azriel landed gracefully on one of the palace’s terraces, setting you down gently before folding his wings behind him. A pair of Day Court guards approached, their golden armor glinting in the sunlight.

“Lady Y/N, Lord Azriel,” one of the guards said with a respectful bow. “Lord Helion is expecting you. Please, follow us.”

You exchanged a glance with Azriel before following the guards into the palace. The interior was just as magnificent as the exterior, with sunlight streaming through large windows, casting intricate patterns on the polished floors. The walls were adorned with tapestries depicting scenes of history and legend, and the air was filled with the scent of citrus and jasmine.

The guards led you to a grand hall where Helion was waiting, seated on a large, ornate chair that was less a throne and more a comfortable seat for a man who enjoyed his luxuries. He rose as you entered, a broad smile spreading across his handsome face.

“Y/N, Azriel,” Helion greeted, his voice warm and welcoming. “It’s a pleasure to see you both. Welcome to the Day Court.”

You inclined your head in respect, but before you could say anything, Helion was already crossing the room with that easy, confident stride of his. He took your hands in his, his golden eyes shining with genuine warmth. “Y/N, it feels oddly right seeing you here as an emissary rather than delivering weapons. Although, I must say, your craftsmanship still impresses me every time I hold one of your creations.”

You smiled, appreciating the compliment and the familiarity. “Thank you, Helion. It’s a different role, but one I’m finding I enjoy more than I expected.”

Helion’s smile widened, and he gestured for you and Azriel to sit. “Indeed. You seem well-suited to it. I always knew there was more to you than just a talented blacksmith.”

Azriel, ever vigilant, took a seat beside you, his gaze never wavering from Helion. The High Lord of the Day Court seemed to notice Azriel’s protective demeanor, and a flicker of amusement danced in his eyes, but he said nothing of it.

The negotiations that followed were intense but cordial. Helion was every bit the shrewd negotiator you had expected, his mind sharp as he navigated the terms of the proposed alliance. You discussed the mutual exchange of resources, with Helion offering access to the Day Court’s extensive libraries and magical artifacts in exchange for some of the Night Court’s innovations and expertise.

The joint military training exercises were also a point of discussion, with Helion expressing interest in strengthening the ties between your forces. He saw the benefit of learning from each other, particularly in a time when the other courts were constantly shifting their alliances and power dynamics.

“You’ll find that the Day Court’s warriors are formidable,” Helion said with a glint in his eye. “But there’s always room for improvement. I believe our forces could learn much from each other.”

Cassian’s earlier thoughts echoed in your mind as you nodded. “I agree. A strong alliance between our courts, both militarily and culturally, would benefit us all.”

The conversation then shifted to the cultural exchange, with Helion suggesting visits between the courts’ scholars, artists, and musicians. He seemed genuinely excited at the prospect of bringing more art and culture into his court, and the idea of fostering deeper connections between your people resonated with him.

“We have much to offer each other,” Helion mused, leaning back in his chair. “Not just in terms of knowledge and power, but in understanding and friendship. That’s something we can’t put a price on.”

As the day wore on, the negotiations continued, with both sides making concessions and adjustments. Helion was a skilled negotiator, but so were you, and by the time the sun began to dip toward the horizon, you felt confident that you had laid the groundwork for a strong and mutually beneficial alliance.

Helion stood, signaling the end of the formal discussions. “I believe we’ve made excellent progress today, Y/N. We’ll finalize the details tomorrow, but for now, I’d like to invite you both to join me for dinner. We can continue our discussions in a more relaxed setting.”

You exchanged a glance with Azriel, who gave you a small nod. “We’d be honored, Lord Helion,” you replied.

Helion’s smile was genuine as he led you both toward a dining hall, where a feast had been prepared. The atmosphere was lighter, the tension of the negotiations giving way to a more casual and friendly tone. Helion was a gracious host, ensuring that you and Azriel were comfortable and well taken care of.

As the evening progressed, you found yourself enjoying Helion’s company more than you had anticipated. He was charming, yes, but there was also a depth to him, a genuine interest in building something lasting between your courts. The more you spoke with him, the more you realized that this alliance was not just a matter of convenience, but a step toward something greater—a bond that could bring lasting peace and prosperity to both the Night and Day Courts.

As the night drew to a close, Helion raised his glass in a toast. “To new beginnings,” he said, his gaze lingering on you. “May this be the start of a fruitful partnership between our courts.”

You raised your glass in return, feeling a sense of accomplishment and hope for the future. “To new beginnings,” you echoed, your voice firm with conviction.

The night had settled peacefully over the Day Court, and you and Azriel found yourselves in the room Helion had graciously provided for your stay. The space was luxurious yet comfortable, with a large bed draped in soft linens and a balcony that offered a breathtaking view of the golden fields and the distant, twinkling lights of the Day Court’s palace grounds.

You stood on the balcony, leaning against the railing as you took in the view. The air was warm, a gentle breeze carrying the scent of jasmine and citrus. The stars above were bright, unobstructed by clouds, and the moon cast a silver glow over the landscape.

Azriel joined you, his presence quiet and calming as he wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you gently against his side. You leaned into him, resting your head on his shoulder as you both admired the serene beauty of the night.

“It’s beautiful here,” you murmured, your voice soft in the stillness. “So different from the Night Court, but beautiful in its own way.”

Azriel nodded, his gaze sweeping over the horizon. “It is. Helion’s court has its own kind of magic, a warmth and light that’s unique. But…” He paused, glancing down at you with a small smile. “I think I still prefer the shadows and stars of our home.”

You smiled, understanding exactly what he meant. “There’s something about the Night Court that feels… like home. Even after all this time.”

Azriel’s hand gently caressed your back, his touch soothing. “It is home. For both of us.”

The two of you stood in comfortable silence for a while, simply enjoying each other’s presence and the peaceful night. The events of the day—the negotiations, the formalities—seemed distant now, as if they belonged to another world. Here, on this balcony, it was just the two of you, away from the pressures and responsibilities that came with your roles.

After a few moments, Azriel broke the silence. “You handled today exceptionally well, Y/N. Helion’s not an easy person to negotiate with, but you held your own.”

You turned your head slightly to look up at him, your eyes meeting his. “Thank you, Az. I have to admit, it was challenging, but… it felt good. It felt like I was doing something important, something that mattered.”

He nodded, his gaze filled with admiration. “You were. And you did it with such grace and strength. I’m proud of you.”

The sincerity in his voice warmed your heart, and you reached up to place a hand on his cheek, your thumb brushing lightly against his skin. “I couldn’t have done it without you by my side.”

Azriel’s eyes softened, and he leaned down to press a gentle kiss to your forehead. “I’ll always be by your side, no matter what.”

You smiled, your heart swelling with affection for the male who had become such an integral part of your life. “I know. And I’m grateful for that.”

Another comfortable silence settled between you, the two of you simply basking in the tranquility of the moment. The bond between you thrummed with a quiet contentment, a reminder of the connection you shared, one that went beyond words or actions.

After a while, you turned to face Azriel fully, your hands resting on his chest as you looked up at him. “Do you ever think about the future, Az? About what it might hold for us?”

He looked down at you, his expression thoughtful. “I do. More than I ever used to.”

“And?” you prompted, a soft smile playing on your lips.

“And I see us together,” he said, his voice steady and sure. “I see us building a life together, one where we’re both happy, where we continue to support each other and face whatever challenges come our way.”

The sincerity in his words made your heart flutter, and you found yourself leaning up to kiss him softly. “That’s exactly what I see too,” you whispered against his lips.

Azriel smiled against your mouth before deepening the kiss, his hands sliding up to cup your face. The kiss was tender, filled with love and promise, a reflection of the bond you shared. When you finally pulled back, both of you were breathless, but the contentment in your hearts was undeniable.

“Let’s go inside,” you suggested, your voice soft as you took his hand.

The moment the door clicked shut behind you both, the atmosphere shifted, thickening with anticipation. The quiet intimacy of the room, bathed in the soft glow of moonlight, only served to heighten the tension that had been building between you all evening. You could feel the heat radiating from Azriel as he stepped closer, his presence overwhelming in the best way possible.

His eyes, usually calm and calculating, were dark with desire as they locked onto yours. "Y/N," he murmured, his voice low and gravelly, sending a shiver down your spine.

You didn’t need words to respond. The way you reached for him, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt, said everything you needed to say. With a swift movement, you pulled him closer, your lips meeting his in a kiss that was anything but gentle. It was a clash of tongues and teeth, a desperate need that had been simmering under the surface, now unleashed.

Azriel’s hands found your waist, tugging you against him as if he couldn’t stand even an inch of space between your bodies. The kiss deepened, grew hungrier, more insistent, as if you both were starved for each other. You could feel the hard planes of his chest beneath your fingers as you slid them under his shirt, craving the feel of his skin.

He broke the kiss just long enough to yank his shirt over his head, discarding it carelessly onto the floor. The sight of him, all toned muscle and shadow-kissed skin, made your breath hitch. Before you could fully take him in, his lips were on yours again, his hands roaming over your body with a possessive need.

He lifted you effortlessly, carrying you to the bed and laying you down with a gentleness that belied the fire burning in his eyes. He followed you down, his weight pressing you into the mattress as his lips trailed hot, open-mouthed kisses along your jaw, down your neck, and across your collarbone. Every brush of his lips against your skin sent sparks of pleasure through you, making you arch into him. He laid you down gently, his eyes never leaving yours as he hovered over you, his body heat radiating against your skin. The look in his eyes was intense, filled with a hunger that matched your own.

“Do you have any idea what you do to me?” he whispered, his voice rough as he leaned down to kiss along your jawline, trailing down to the sensitive skin of your neck.

You gasped softly at the sensation, your fingers tangling in his dark hair. “I think I’m starting to get the idea.”

Azriel’s hands were everywhere—pushing up your shirt, skimming over your bare skin, as he made quick work of undressing you. Soon, your clothes joined his on the floor, leaving you both bare to each other, every inch of skin tingling with anticipation.

“Gods, you’re beautiful,” he breathed, his eyes devouring every inch of you. He hovered above you, his hands framing your face as he kissed you deeply, passionately, his body pressing you down into the soft bed. The feel of him against you, hard and ready, made you ache with need.

Your hands roamed over his body, tracing the lines of his muscles, the scars that marked his skin, each one telling a story of battles fought and won. But right now, all that mattered was this moment, the feel of him, the way he made you feel—desired, cherished, needed.

Azriel’s lips found yours again, his kiss searing and demanding. He pulled back just enough to murmur against your lips, “Tell me what you want, Y/N.”

You gasped as his fingers brushed between your thighs, teasing but not giving you what you desperately craved. “You, Azriel. I want you.”

His eyes darkened with a feral hunger at your words, and with a groan, he positioned himself at your entrance. The anticipation made your heart race, your body tense with need.

Azriel entered you slowly, inch by inch, giving you time to adjust to the stretch of him. The sensation was overwhelming, the way he filled you completely, making you feel whole in a way you hadn’t even realized you needed. You moaned, your hands gripping his shoulders as you arched up to meet him, craving more.

He started moving, setting a slow, deliberate rhythm that made you dizzy with pleasure. Each thrust was deep, controlled, sending waves of sensation through your entire body. You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper, needing more, needing everything he could give.

“Y/N,” he groaned, his voice strained as he fought to maintain control. But you could feel it—the tension coiling within him, the same tension that was building within you, ready to snap at any moment.

You reached up, cupping his face in your hands as you pulled him down for a kiss. It was a messy, desperate kiss, filled with all the emotions you couldn’t put into words. His thrusts became harder, faster, as if he was losing himself in you, in the sensation, in the bond that tied you together.

“Azriel,” you gasped, your voice a breathless plea as you felt your climax approaching, the pleasure building to an almost unbearable peak. “I’m close…”

“Me too,” he rasped, his rhythm faltering as he chased his own release. His hands gripped your hips, holding you in place as he drove into you with a fierce, unrelenting need.

The tension snapped, and your climax washed over you in a wave of pleasure so intense it left you trembling. You cried out his name, your body clenching around him as you rode out the aftershocks of your release.

Azriel followed you over the edge moments later, a guttural moan escaping his lips as he buried himself deep inside you, his release flooding through him. He held you close, his body shuddering against yours as he found his own pleasure in you.

For a moment, the world seemed to stand still. The only sounds were your ragged breaths and the pounding of your hearts, beating in sync. Azriel stayed buried inside you, his forehead resting against yours as he caught his breath.

When he finally moved, it was to kiss you again—soft, tender, filled with all the love he had for you. He rolled to his side, pulling you with him so that you were curled against his chest, his arms wrapped around you protectively.

“Are you alright?” he asked softly, his fingers brushing through your hair.

You nodded, feeling a contentment settle over you as you snuggled closer to him. “I’m perfect, Az.”

He smiled, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “Good. Because I’m not done with you yet.”

A laugh bubbled up from your chest as you looked up at him, seeing the mischievous glint in his eyes. “Oh? Is that so?”

The room was still filled with the heady scent of sex, the warmth of your shared pleasure lingering in the air as you lay curled up against Azriel’s chest. His fingers traced lazy patterns along your back, a satisfied hum vibrating from him as he pressed soft kisses to the top of your head. The bond between you thrummed with a deep sense of contentment, but beneath it, there was still a simmering heat, a desire that hadn’t quite been quenched.

You felt it too—a restless need that made you shift against him, your skin tingling with anticipation. Azriel must have sensed the change in you, because his fingers stilled, and he tilted your chin up to meet his gaze.

“Y/N,” he murmured, his voice a soft rumble that sent shivers down your spine. “What are you thinking?”

You didn’t answer with words. Instead, you pushed yourself up, straddling his hips as you looked down at him, a wicked smile playing on your lips. The way his eyes darkened in response, the way his hands automatically came to rest on your thighs, told you everything you needed to know—he wanted this as much as you did.

Slowly, you rolled your hips against him, feeling his length harden beneath you as you moved. The sensation sent a jolt of pleasure through you, and you bit your lip to stifle a moan. Azriel’s grip on your thighs tightened, his gaze locked on yours, a silent plea for more.

“You’re going to be the death of me,” he growled, his voice rough with desire.

You leaned down, brushing your lips against his in a teasing kiss. “Then I guess I’ll just have to make it worth it,” you whispered against his mouth.

With that, you reached between your bodies, guiding him to your entrance. The sensation of him pressing against you, hard and ready, made your breath hitch, and you couldn’t resist teasing him a little more, rubbing the head of his cock against your wetness, making him groan in frustration.

“Y/N…” he warned, his voice strained as he fought to keep control.

You smiled, a little triumphant, before you finally sank down onto him, taking him in inch by inch. The feeling of him stretching you, filling you so completely, made your head spin with pleasure. You moaned, your hands braced against his chest as you took a moment to adjust to the fullness of him inside you.

Azriel’s hands moved to your hips, his fingers digging into your skin as he tried to hold himself still, letting you set the pace. But you could feel the tension in him, the way he was struggling not to thrust up into you, to let you take your time. It was heady, knowing how much control you had in this moment, and it only fueled your desire.

Slowly, you began to move, rolling your hips in a steady rhythm that sent waves of pleasure through both of you. Azriel’s eyes fluttered shut for a moment, his head falling back against the pillows as a low groan rumbled from his chest.

“You feel so good,” he rasped, his voice tight with restraint as he let you ride him at your own pace. “Gods, Y/N…”

You smiled at the praise, the sound of his voice, the way he looked beneath you—completely undone—making you feel powerful, beautiful, desired. You leaned forward, pressing your hands against his chest for leverage as you began to move faster, the friction between your bodies sparking something wild and uncontrollable within you.

Azriel’s hands gripped your hips tighter, his control slipping as he started to meet your movements with upward thrusts of his own. The change in angle made him hit deeper, harder, and you gasped at the intense pleasure that radiated through you with each thrust.

Your rhythm grew faster, more desperate, as you chased the pleasure building inside you. The feeling of Azriel beneath you, his body strong and solid, his cock filling you so perfectly, was almost too much to bear. You could feel the tension coiling tighter and tighter, ready to snap at any moment.

Azriel opened his eyes, the dark intensity in his gaze locking onto yours as he thrust up into you, meeting your movements with a ferocity that made you cry out his name. “Y/N… I’m so close.”

You gasped, your movements becoming erratic as you felt yourself teetering on the edge of release. The tension inside you snapped, and your orgasm crashed over you, your body convulsing with pleasure as you cried out, your nails digging into Azriel’s chest.

Azriel followed you over the edge, a guttural moan escaping his lips as he found his release, his hands gripping you tightly as he buried himself deep inside you, filling you with his warmth.

For a moment, the world seemed to stop, leaving only the sound of your ragged breaths and the pounding of your hearts in the quiet aftermath. You collapsed against Azriel’s chest, both of you spent and sated, the bond between you humming with contentment.

Azriel wrapped his arms around you, holding you close as you both caught your breath. The connection between you felt deeper, more intimate, after what you’d just shared, and as you lay there in the quiet of the night, you couldn’t help but smile.

“I love you,” you murmured, pressing a soft kiss to his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your lips.

Azriel’s arms tightened around you, his voice a soft whisper in the darkness. “And I love you, Y/N. More than anything.”

You stayed like that for a while, just holding each other, savoring the warmth and comfort of being together. And as you drifted off to sleep in Azriel’s arms, you knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, you would face them together, bound by a love that was as strong as the night itself.

---

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#azriel fic #rhysand #azriel #cassian #acotar #azriel x reader #azriel x you #sword #a court of thorns and roses #acotar series #acotar fanfiction #azriel spymaster #azriel shadowsinger #azriel acotar #acotar fanfic #acotar x reader #acotar x you

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aphroditelovesu · 10 months ago

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Hello! Can you do a yandere Hephaestus with 🦄?

❝🦄❞ - ‘’I... I really can't let you go.’’

❝tw: mention of kidnapping, obsessive behavior, loneliness, self-loathing.

Was he really that bad? Hephaestus wondered, as he watched you hesitantly. Was he really the monster everyone said he was?

The forge god clenched his hands, feeling his body go numb with pure agony. He had been in agony for days, your refusal to recognize him, to talk to him, to accept him made him furious and sad at the same time.

Why couldn't you see that you belonged together? He may not be the most beautiful of the gods or the most powerful, but Hephaestus loved you. He had a lot of love to give and he wanted to give it all to you. It wasn't right to bring you here without your consent, but he couldn't stay away from you any longer.

Hephaestus approached cautiously, trying to contain the emotions that were roiling his being. His eyes reflected the pain of being constantly ignored and rejected by the one he loved most. But something inside him persisted, a spark of hope that urged him to keep trying.

With a heavy sigh, he approached you, seeking the courage to explain his side of the story. "I'm not the monster they say I am", he murmured, his voice choked with sadness. "I made mistakes, yes, but my love for you is genuine. I tried to create something unique for us, something special..."

The god of the forge reached out his hand, trying to touch yours, begging for a moment of understanding, but you just shrank away, afraid of the god's touch.

"I know my approach was misguided, but my heart belongs to you. Please allow me to show you that I can be more than the label I was given. I love you more than words can express."

The agony in Hephaestus' eyes was evident, a mixture of pain and longing to be understood. He hoped that maybe you could see through the stories and legends, and find the truth behind the mask the world had imposed on him. Slowly, you looked into the god's black eyes, your stern face and your lips pressed tightly together.

With your voice slightly shaking, you found the courage to speak, "Please... Let me go."

The once gentle and warm gaze quickly turned cold and filled with suppressed fury, Hephaestus growled, "No." You flinched at his angry voice. These mood swings were something that terrified you. One moment he was being kind and another he acted in an explosive and hateful way.

The tension in the environment increased abruptly, and you found yourself caught between the desire to get out of that situation and Hephaestus' intense reaction. Your heart accelerated when you noticed the change in his behavior, and the feeling of fear intensified. If fear had a smell, it would be emanating from you right now.

With a lump in your throat, you tried again, begging more firmly, "Please, I need to go. I can't stay here against my will." Every word was filled with anguish and determination.

But Hephaestus, still in a volatile mix of emotions, seemed determined not to give in. His eyes sparkled with stubborn determination and an authoritative tone crept into his voice, "You can't leave me now. I can't bear the loneliness any longer. I need you here with me."

Silent tears began to fall and your cheeks became hot and clammy. The god's hard gaze softened and he gently crouched down to you and carefully wiped away your tears.

Pressing his forehead against yours, Hephaestus whispered, "I... I really can't let you go."

You closed your eyes, trying desperately to stop the tears that threatened to continue falling. Hephaestus was either too caught up in his obsession to notice, or he just didn't care. For all he did was pull you into his crushing grip and try to calm you down in a rough way.

You would never leave him.

#yandere greek mythology #greek mythology #yandere greek gods #greek gods x reader #hephaestus x reader #yandere Hephaestus #yandere Hephaestus x reader #emoji #emoji prompt

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throwaway-yandere · 2 years ago

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Dendro NA: 101 (Yandere!Alhaitham/Reader)

a/n: “ansy weren’t you going to write faceless!ayato and music composer!tighnari” well yes but things happened so now here we are. I’m dedicating this fic to crying anon since they’re the person that gave me an idea of an "what if Alhaitham had an elf!darling?" after this fic. The beginning reads like an enemies-to-lovers fic with a slice of crack where nothing goes wrong but trust me it’s not lmao

unreliable synopsis: After Alhaitham forged your signature, you're now forced to become the Acting Grand Sage’s assistant. It's even more annoying when he nearly visited your house all drugged up. Seriously, when will he learn to respect his seniors?

CW: yandere themes, noncon touching, aphrodisiacs, possessiveness, so much bickering, and the reader slanders dendro for plot reasons.

Pulcinella, The Rooster, came to visit early in the morning.

“Pups, please… Stop turning my apartment upside down and just tell me what you want.”

It was unexpected how the old man barged into your “unconquerable mess of an apartment” with the intent to celebrate your newfound job at the Haravatat. Mayor Pulcinella isn’t your direct grandfather, but he is your grandfather’s brother. The fact that you are connected to him is a well-known secret (as absurd an oxymoron as that may sound) in the College of Engineering and Technology at the Akademiya. Because of the collectivist mentality that characterized your family, every last pointy-eared relative you are aware of is blatantly nosy and annoying. The "mayor" is much more so.

Pulcinella did come to extend his congratulations, with a generous batch of cookies even, but he had an objective in mind. His way of showing that he cares is usually in the form of letters but he stands right in front of you now. You can only imagine how difficult it is for someone in his position to take a leave of absence this far since Port Ormos is so far away from home and it takes days for mail to arrive here.

Your grandfather is obstinate. Terrifying so since you recognize that expression on his face all too well. Although you are unsure of what he needs from you, you do know that you want him out. Immediately.

“Don’t talk to me in that tone, child.” He scowled, jabbing your briefcases with his wooden cane. “I’m not leaving until I find it.”

That "Rooster" moniker belongs to him without a doubt. Your belongings were seized by the elf-like a bird's beak. He prodded the dreadful equation-filled sheets hanging on your wall and snatched a few trinkets on your work table. Good lord. Pulcinella made so much noise that if you weren’t already planning on starting your day, you would’ve been incredibly cranky when he knocked on your door.

“For Her Majesty’s sake– just what are you trying to find, grandpups?”

He turned to look at you.

Not mad, but disappointed– sad, even.

“An engagement ring. Evidence that you’re dating that fool, Alhaitham.”

You groaned.

“Him again?! Motherf—”

Pulcinella quirked his eyebrow at your outburst, “hmm?”

You chuckled nervously, “ah, sorry, I just… It’s nothing.”

No, it was not “nothing.” That bastard ruined a lot of things for you, including your vision. You didn’t want a dendro vision. You were praying for Rex Lapis every night even after his death but somehow being involved with Alhaitham strayed your path to gaining the “grass fertilizer tool” as you loved to call it. Sure, there’s little evidence that he’s the reason behind the fact that you got a dendro vision instead of geo but that doesn’t change the fact that you want to crush him between your palms like a writhe scarab. Especially after he enlisted you as his scribe-disciple without your consent. What a complete scumbag.

Oh, to quit the Akademiya only to be forced to go back again…

But of course, your grandpups don’t know anything about this and you have ZERO intentions of letting him in on your business. If he knows, then ALL of Snezhnayan elves know.

“I’ve heard from your mother that you’ve gone lovesick and left the Akademiya,” Pulcinella spoke in a slow somber tone. “And falling recklessly in love and gaining a dendro vision does not sound like you at all.”

Eww. Lovesick? Hell no.

If it weren’t for this man, you would’ve graduated as a fully pledged civil engineer next year. If he wasn’t such a great scribe, no, forger, your signature wouldn’t be on that damn contract.

That man seriously has no respect for his seniors.

Nevertheless, it was too late to do anything. You just have to accept the consequences of your inaction. Additionally, if you're going to take this "new job," you might as well act as if you adore it.

Hooray! Don’t you love working for Alhaitham? Isn’t it fun to discard your 4 years of studying? Oh, what joy! You definitely did not burn your eyebrows out trying to ace FIFTY Kshahrewar mock tests!!!–

“Talk to me, poppet.” He continued, eyebrows knitted. His wrinkly hands reached to gently hold yours. Suddenly, you remembered that he is still family. That this was the same old major that your young self boasted their miniature construction toys to.

“I’m worried that something might’ve happened. And my dear, health is not the absence of disease or infirmity, it is also–”

“The complete state of physical, mental, AND social wellbeing. Yes. I know, Pups. You nearly forced me to study medicine.” You groaned and palmed your forehead, weak but playful.

He chuckled heartily.

The old man’s rather soft with you compared to his other grandchildren. If he wasn’t, you’d likely find yourself as Il Dottore’s new assistant.

Although most people would find working for a harbinger, especially The Doctor, to be a complete nightmare, you concluded that being Alhaitham's slave was the epitome of "overrated garbage," and you despise the scribe so much you can't even remember his appearance. Sure, Layla’s jealous that you’re essentially set for life by being a scribe assistant but at least Dottore gives his assistants a hefty pay (discounting his crimes against humanity…)

You’re not proud to call Alhaitham your boss. That stupid #093c0d face doesn’t make your 2 million mora salary worth the trouble. He needs to pay for your mental health insurance–

“Are you alright, poppet? You’re looking at me like you would with one of your test slimes.”

You exhaled deeply, “sorry, I suddenly thought of a hex code #093c0d person.”

Pulcinella closed his eyes.

“A dark green shade?”

“That’s right.”

“...”

With an unreadable yet deliberate face, Pulcinella fixed his gaze on you. Your unique perspective on others didn't seem to disturb your grandpups the way it did your parents. He is one of the select few who is aware of how you assign people's personalities through colors. Pulcinella raised his glasses further up before giving a sage-like nod. The moment he crossed his arms, you knew he understood what you were trying to express.

“So it’s a lover’s quarrel.”

“Yes, exactly.”

…

“Wait, what– NO!!! Pups, please stop assuming shit– things!!!”

Never mind— he is SO far off.

Why is he convinced that you’re dating that prick? What the hell did your mom tell him?!

“I heard that, poppet. And do not misunderstand, I think this is a good thing.”

Your uncle-grandfather cupped your cheeks and squished them between his fingers. Perhaps this is what people consider a wholesome grandpa-grandchild dynamic– but social norms should’ve also labeled this as domestic violence. His pinching hurts. Your clipped groans made him grin wider.

“After all, this means that you have seen his flaws and true character. What better way to break a couple up than a genuine argument?”

“PWUUUPS!!!”

Pulcinella pulled his hands away.

“I felt distraught when I heard you have given up your pursuit of civil engineering and chose a career in the Haravatat,” he sighed and took off his hat, holding it against his chest. “I was rooting for you, dear. I had faith in your aspirations. Even Lord Capitano found it upsetting to learn that the future engineer I frequently boasted about had become a lesser Lord Kusanali underling.”

You squirmed and rubbed your cheeks, staring at the ground.

Lord Capitano was not someone you often interacted with, but you knew that he had an eye for talent– and he sought after yours. Perhaps this is your ego talking, but it felt like even he believed you’re best suited for an engineering course too. Other than your grandpups and subsequently his recruit, Ajax, Lord Capitano was one of the Fatuis you respected.

Alhaitham truly crushed your dreams.

“I know, Pups…”

“You know what to do, right?”

You nodded solemnly, before looking him dead in the eye. Pulcinella can see your determination clear as day.

You breathed in.

“I’m going to commit arson.”

He patted your back, smiling.

“That’s my grandchild!”

Pulcinella tip-toed and ruffled your hair.

“Alright, this old man had given up. Just show grandpups where the ring is.”

“Her majesty the Tsaritsa’s sake– I already told you Pups– ALHAITHAM AND I ARE NOT DATING!!!”

It was an exceptionally hot evening in Sumeru City despite being far from the desert. You should be inside your apartment right now, studying the Dendro Vision book Alhaitham gave you but you’d rather be where you are now. It’s about to get warmer, yet you’d dare argue that both you and master architect Kaveh’s headache can compete with its 38°C average temperature.

“C’mon, please?”

“No, I’m not helping you burn Alhaitham’s house down.”

“What?! Why not?!”

“Damnit, (Y/n)– BECAUSE I LIVE THERE!!!”

“Oh, right.”

You flopped back to your seat, eyes rolling back, deflated.

Kaveh cried out in pain while lowering his head to the table. He somewhat resembled a dried-out raisin. He had a drinking binge the night before, so this isn't because he's not a morning person. Although you expressed regret for knocking on his (Alhaitham's) door, the architect never misses a chance to rant about his housemate. Kaveh's pain wasn't even close to how much he detested Alhaitham. Now here you both are, sitting outside Lambad’s Tavern like morons because you both forgot to bring your wallets.

Not a sight you’d expect from a master-of-all-trades (ex-)engineering student and a genius architect.

“Damn it…” You whined. “What else am I supposed to do now?”

“Await until Focalors passes her judgment,” he answered hoarsely.

In other words: curl up and die, probably.

“Yeah… Yeah, that sounds viable. Let me just go to Fontaine real quick– oh wait, I can’t, because some dumbass scribe paid the corps to keep me from reaching the borders.”

Kaveh chuckled, still caressing his headache, not caring how his messy and unwashed locks covered his eyes. You’d be surprised if he told you he didn’t just get out of bed. He appeared like he was ready to sleep for all eternity, or more accurately, Kaveh’s starting to look eerily similar to Layla. In terms of colors though, he’d still be a #ffda29 and not a #003153.

He sneered, “did the sun always look this bright, powerful, and oh-so hateful?”

“It wouldn’t look like that if you didn’t down the pitcher I left on the table last night, Kaveh.”

You both turned to look at the voice– rather, the abyss. Alhaitham stood behind you. Or at least, you think it’s him.

Okay, here’s the deal: you hate remembering his face.

You handle your memory much like a student would a personal bookshelf– you’ll occasionally take out the information you no longer wish to retain in favor of more useful and relevant ones. As a creature with longevity, an elf should be picky when it comes to memories. You believe your approach is in the same vein as Pulcinella disposing of “less valuable assets’' without hesitation. If there’s no point in having it, why carry the baggage? But there are at least two facts that you can easily recall about Alhaitham: it’s his voice and the color #093c0d.

In other words, he’s just a talking dark green slime in your eyes.

Which he considers a major step up, by the way. You went from ignoring him to recognizing his voice, to associating him with one color. That’s quite a development. A pathetically slow progression, but still a positive one.

“THERE YOU ARE, ALHAITHAM, YOU PRI–”

The man swiftly dodged his slap by crouching down. He honestly didn’t have to put in the effort when Kaveh’s attacks were sluggish.

“–CK! WHY’D YOU LABEL THE ALCOHOL AS WATER?!”

Tons of passersby stared at Kaveh as he flailed around, but they were quick to look away. It’s no longer a secret that he lives with the scribe. Everyone in Sumeru City knows about his tactless antics and none are deaf when it comes to his loud gripes about his housemate. Even so, you went up to him to soothe his worries and restore his reputation because not everyone understands he's not a bad person.

Alhaitham scoffed, glaring.

“I didn’t. The label said "Fire-Water.””

“WHAT DIFFERENCE DOES THAT MAKE?!”

“Fire-water? Oh.”

Your hand flew to your mouth as you connected the two dots.

That beverage from Snezhnaya is notorious for having a high alcohol content and is only known in Mondstadt as the drink Master Ragnvindr forbade exports of. As a quote-unquote "wine connoisseur," you were invited to one of his parties. Fortunately, you were able to warn Diluc of how potent it is firsthand– Kaveh? Not so much.

You snorted.

“Yeah, Kaveh, I hate to take Alhaitham’s side on this but this one is on you, friend.”

The blonde’s eyes widened, betrayed.

“HAH?!”

“Need I remind you that fire-water is an alcoholic beverage, Kaveh.” Alhaitham waved his hand, emphasizing his condescending tone. “Maybe if you listened to me instead of ranting about my work ethic, you would’ve known that I received it as a gift from a Fatui Harbinger.”

Your ears perked up. “From a Harbinger?”

Alhaitham smirked but it was gone as quickly as it came.

“Hmm. I’m certain that you know him, assistant (L/n). His name is Pulcinella,” the scribe said. “He left me a note. He said he wishes that I drink to my heart’s content as a thank-you gift for hiring his grandchild. I wasn’t aware you have a kind grandfather.”

You smiled back, crookedly.

No. No, your uncle-grandfather DEFINITELY wanted to see Alhaitham in pain. He didn’t even bother giving him a bottle– he gave him a fucking leftover pitcher.

Alhaitham took your arm. Unfortunately, he’s taller than you with muscle strength you can’t compete with. You squirmed but resistance was futile. Doesn’t mean you can’t bite his arm off–

“Assistant (L/n)–”

You gritted your teeth. “Don’t touch me, sir.”

Alhaitham paused, processing how much emphasis you put into pronouncing the word “sir.”

“–I’ll be taking you away now.” He looked down on your friend and scoffed. “Kaveh, do try your best to not be a burden to Mx. (L/n) again.”

Kaveh clutched his head, still in pain.

Sorry, Kaveh. That drink and beating headache were not meant for you in the slightest. You made a mental note to make it up to him, but not today. You have a lot on your plate right now.

“Idiot. They’re the one that invited me here!”

“True–”

“I quite frankly don’t care,” Alhaitham spat coldly.

“From now on, refrain from having conversations with my assistant. Unless you’re prepared to face the consequences.”

“Do you remember the approximate damage multipliers an aggravate reaction causes?”

“Nope.”

“Tch. I just discussed this, I can’t believe you already forgot.”

“You think I forgot? Haha, hell no. I didn’t forget, I just wasn’t paying any attention.”

Alhaitham dragged you down a secluded area in the rainforests with a sword in hand. Quite frankly, you hoped he brought his weapon to kill you, but you’re well aware of what this is about.

This is a lesson straight out of a page of “Dendro Vision Qualifications 101: Normal Attack Patterns.” The Acting Grand Sage thinks that you should have at least enough fighting proficiency for you to start formally working for him. As for you? You think this whole charade is utterly meaningless.

Sometimes, you truly do wish you were born as a rock instead. Maybe then you would be able to perform the “gray-rock method” whenever Alhaitham starts his drivel about dendro visions. You bet you’d make a pretty good tombstone for your dead childhood friend if you were a rock. Being a rock is probably the nicest thing to be. You get to be something created from the Geo element– the element and vision you desired. And not dendro.

Anything but lame old dendro.

This is so stupid. You wanted a geo vision, damn it. What on earth did you do to make Rex Lapis spite you, and what kinda breakthrough did you accomplish to gain the Lesser Lord Kusanali’s favor instead?!

If only you got something that isn’t the same as Alhaitham’s vision. Maybe if you got an electro vision you’d be learning how to brandish a lance with the General Mahamatra instead. Unlike most people, you enjoy being in his prolonged company and dry jokes. You’ve exchanged letters with Cyno multiple times– but your friend’s on-the-spot puns are 10x funnier than the things he writes down. Of course, that’s only because his earnest delivery sells it.

“In this fighting stance, you can perform up to 4 consecutive attacks, dishing out dendro damage approximately every 2 seconds interval–”

You held up your Eye of Perception.

“Bold of you to assume I’ll use this vision.”

“–charge attacks on the other hand require a hefty amount of stami–”

You yawned, halting Alhaitham in the middle of his “lecture.”

There’s a reason why you chose an Eye of Perception, and that’s because, unlike most catalysts, it procures physical damage as well. With someone as petty as you, it’s only natural that you’d brandish a weapon that doesn’t rely too much on dendro reactions.

“Yeah, I’ll just hit the enemy with my catalyst. Like, aim and shoot, or maybe I’ll just go with blunt force. This eye of perception looks like it’s made of metal, it can probably dish out some physical damage–”

Alhaitham shifted forward. Your gentle yet insouciant voice forced him out of his momentum.

“(Y/n).”

“...Yes, sir?”

His gaze sharpened.

“Pay attention.”

You snorted. Was he trying to intimidate you?

You, an elf who lived longer than him? How arrogant. It was becoming clearer why Alhaitham never once had a girlfriend or boyfriend. Or maybe a genuine friend in general. His senior who happens to also be his housemate does not count.

“No thanks.” You laughed to yourself, barely containing your amusement. “I think I’m doing fine.”

“What do you expect will happen if you don’t listen to my instructions? Your unfailing indifference sickens me.” He sheathed his sword back. “Do I have to spell everything out? You’ll get injured in combat. You won’t be able to defend yourself from fungi, eremites, and other enemies on the prowl. All for what? Useless pride? Grow up. Accept that you got a dendro vision and be done with it.”

“Tch…” You know how you feel, but you do not have the strength to say it out loud.

What an impossible task. He’s telling you– the most stubborn person you know– to give up on your goals? Inconceivable. You bet he sees the mediocre majority as nothing more than defective pawns, and you’re well aware you belong in that lowly category.

To him, grief may as well be easy as breathing. For you, years had gone by and you could still hear their voice. The scribe knows nothing about tributes for the dead.

Your old childhood friend beckons you back to the chasm. His voice comes once the dark rears in, reverbing his desperate pleas for a fitting grave. It’s a voice that twists around your chest like a knife. You can’t get their faces out of your memetic bookshelf, but it’s not as if you’re willing to dispose of them.

You didn’t want a dendro vision.

You wanted a geo vision to construct mausoleums for your dead friends.

Alhaitham scowled.

“Fine. We’ll resume our lesson next week.”

He bumped into your shoulder as he walked by. For a split second, you’re reminded that your superior had longer eyelashes than you do. And it made the gesture more annoying.

Strange.

Alhaitham wouldn’t normally let you off so easily…

Maybe he’s busy?

“If you’re so insistent on only utilizing physical attacks, be my guest. Next time, I will not back down a single step.” Alhaitham walked away with heavy feet, stamping the dirt with his heels.

The consequences of your actions began to sink in. You may have lived longer than Alhaitham, but needless to say, he had more experience in combat.

Admittedly, you may have done yourself a disservice by acting out… You huffed.

No, no way.

“What could possibly go wrong? He’s just a feeble scholar!”

Unsurprisingly, Alhaitham was not, in fact, a feeble scholar.

Thankfully you have the Eye of Perception at your disposal because the moment he found you walking towards Devantaka Mountain the following week, the bastard went for your jugular.

“What the fuck, Alhaitham?!”

You fired a single shot, aimed higher this time knowing that he would attempt to evade. Much like his actions with Kaveh last time, Alhaitham was quick to dodge that projectile. His timing is impeccable as he activated his vision.

#ff0e0e starts blaring in your line of sight. You’ve always trusted these colors— your instincts.

You’re in danger.

“Tch!”

You almost didn’t recognize that it was him. If he wasn’t breathing heavily, you would've mistaken him for an assassin. Alhaitham never made any unnecessary movements. His slashes were not done with the intent of harming you, but shepherding you to an appropriate trap. Your knee scraped against the grass and minuscule rocks. Prioritizing distance over attacks was a wrong move– he’s faster than anticipated. You gasped sharply as the scribe pinned you against a tree trunk–

… His scent caught your attention.

“A cicin mage’s perfume…?” You mumbled, eyes wide.

That didn’t seem right. Their perfume usually doesn’t smell this unpleasant and metallic.

Your ears drooped down as you realized this Alhaitham did not attack because he’s a lunatic, no. That malodorous stench was akin to a grandmother’s bittersweet husk.

This Alhaitham was under the influence of aphrodisiacs, and it is not something you can fault him for.

“What– What on earth happened?”

He twisted your arm slightly, not enough that’ll make you scream but just rough for a tiny yelp–

and that’s how he boldly claimed your lips.

You froze in horror, letting him take advantage of your plight. Alhaitham pulled away, panting slightly.

“F-Fuck…”

Alhaitham moaned as he slipped his tongue back inside. You tried to stop him but you yelped the moment his hand groped your thigh. His breath fanned your flustered skin as he moved to slither his arms around your waist, closing the already small distance between you two.

You weakly pulled back. The rainforest had never felt this humid before.

Something is truly off about his scent.

“L-Let go!!!” You hissed and punched his chest, completely forgetting your catalyst in your panic. “What the hell is wrong with you?!?! Are you out of your fucking mind?!”

He didn’t listen despite your physical protests. Alhaitham disgustingly crooned down and sloppily dabbed wet kisses down your neck. His saliva dripped over his shoulder, coating you in hopes that it would leave his trace.

It felt wrong. You felt dirty– like you were kissing an actual #093c0d slime.

“P-Please…” He whispered, his voice dropping dangerously weak and vulnerable. “H-Help me, (Y/n)…”

Your face flushed as you wiped the saliva that connected you both from your lips.

You’ve never heard Alhaitham beg before.

Is this really him?

His fistful grip on your clothes grew taut as desperation colored his knuckles white. You had never seen Alhaitham lose his cool the way he does now, and the broken sight in his eyes made you uneasy and uncertain.

He looked pathetic.

“Haitham, your…” your hand supported his neck and he hungrily leaned in to feel your touch. “Your heartbeat is loud.”

“I know,” he whimpered.

You bit your lip. You could sense his pulse going faster.

This isn’t the first time you’ve been kissed– or first anything. You’ve had your fair share of “soulmates” and “flings”, but those happened decades ago. Before you were mastering engineering, you were a freelance artist who’d had many affairs with humans and elves alike out of the undiagnosed emptiness that was grief. Up until Faruzan made you start a new leaf, you indulged in numerous vices, including wine and one-night stands. She was the closest a human could hope to understand the loneliness an elf would have.

Both your appearance give the illusion of youth, but your bones are held together by flesh older than this man. She would undoubtedly be angry with you as soon as she learns that you enabled Alhaitham's small rendezvous.

“Alhaitham, I’m more than a decade years older than you–” you squirmed.

“But I want you,” he groaned.

Those words felt so different when he was the one who said them. Nearly sinister.

“I know,” you said, but your voice doesn’t match the confidence you were meant to exude. “But this isn’t you, this is your hormones doing the talking. Where did the cicin mage attack you?”

“Between Pardis Dhyai and Yashna Monument”

“Between WHAT?!” You gawked. “That’s miles away from here!”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“Yes, it does!!!”

You yanked his shirt. It’s thin, yet surprisingly durable. The strength of the fabric is not what made you unnerved, but his stare.

He gazed at you as if you were his lifeline— as if you were the only thing that allowed him to breathe. Alhaitham’s hot breaths were shallow, fanning your face as you took note of how red his face, neck, and ears were. You noticed how he struggled to gulp— struggled to keep his composure. His bedroom eyes had not once diverted their attention away from you.

“It doesn't matter how far I ran. You were the one I wanted to see. You were the face that came to mind after getting poisoned."

You pretended not to hear that.

“Alhaitham, we need to get you to Tighnari.”

“He can’t help me.”

“The forest watcher can most certainly help you more than me.”

“You don’t know that.”

You don't want to hear him talk anymore, to be honest. You're horrified by how weak and inaudible his voice sounded.

“Why did you come to Avidya Forest all the way from there? Why not head straight to the city?”

“So many questions…” He irritably spat. “Just stop talking and kis–”

“I refuse,” you glared. “Why were you heading towards Port Ormos? Did you think I was going to help you get over this mess out of the goodness of my heart?”

Did he forget how much you loathe him?

“No. No, of course not.”

He chuckled, full of self-loathing.

“I know you hate me, (Y/n). I would hate myself too.”

You raised an eyebrow. Of course, he’s self-aware— you just didn’t expect him to say that out loud.

Alhaitham continued, “but I’m not the one at fault here.”

Defeated, he rested his head on your shoulder. To avoid having you look at his expression, Alhaitham cupped your back, running fingers through your scalp so that you may only look forward. His body pressed against yours firmly. There’s no possible way for you not to be wholly aware of how warm he was and how fast his heart was beating.

It was distracting to know how much the poison affected someone like Alhaitham, whom you thought was damn near untouchable.

Awkwardly, you returned the favor and played with his hair. Alhaitham gasped softly, making you shiver as you realized how sensitive you are to his breathing from this position.

“And who would that be?” You asked quietly. “If your pride won’t let you seek Tighnari’s aid then since you’re here you might as well tell me everything, starting from the very beginning.”

“T-That won’t be necessary.”

“If we want to rule out who your true assailant is, then yes it is,” you answered. “I think this is what you call the process of elimination.”

Suddenly, he pulled away from you with his arms stretched out. Alhaitham still kept you pinned on the tree, but there’s more space for you now to move and see his face.

Ah, you’ve nearly forgotten again.

Alhaitham has green-orange eyes.

“No need.”

He clicked his tongue.

“It was Pulcinella. Your grandfather sent a cicin mage in an attempt to seduce and assassinate me.”

… Oh.

You should’ve guessed. You really should’ve guessed that he was behind all this.

Instinctively, you tried to cover your mouth from shock, but he quickly grabbed them and pressed them back to the tree behind you again. He tightened his hold once more, making you wince.

“I didn’t mind at first because your grandfather reminded me of my own grandmother,” Alhaitham gritted his teeth. “Pulcinella—”

He bit his bottom lip, his seafoam eyes looking unstable and royally pissed.

“He’s not after me because of my position as the Acting Grand Sage. H-He was merely looking after you. His expression was one I recognized. It's a grandfather's love. I may not show empathy as frequently as my housemate would like, but at least I am conscious of how important family is. I don’t want you to have to arrange your grandparent’s funeral like I did.”

You’re not unaware of who Alhaitham’s grandmother was. At one point, you had befriended her back when she was out on a mission to acquire 1,000 books. To think that you’ll meet her grandson for the first time in college and that you’ll end up in a situation like this… you’re sure she would’ve never condoned any of this. She wouldn’t appreciate that her grandson was trying to fuck the elf that helped her build her small library.

This is wrong.

Everything about this is wrong. From the age gap to the work power distance– it’s vile–

You want to vomit.

“So— s-so what did you do?”

“I didn’t want to kill your grandfather in retaliation.”

“Yes, you’ve established that. You don’t usually beat around the bush— go back to being the Alhaitham I know and just get straight to the point, damn it!”

“I ended up tracking all of his people in Sumeru down.”

He chuckled lowly.

Your heart started racing as well.

If his heart was beating out of excitement, yours were out of a rational fear that you wouldn’t get out of this unscathed and mentally sound.

“It’s laughable how his lackeys were so incompetent. If they listened to my lectures at all, they would’ve known how to defend themselves.”

“What… What the hell are you talking about?”

There was nowhere to run. You’re trapped unless Alhaitham lets go of both your wrists. Your dilated eyes surveyed the woodland, but you weren't confident that, should the occasion arise, your shaky knees could put some distance between you and the scribe.

“Didn’t you notice? They were stalking us from the moment I was teaching you how to use your vision last week, and likely even before that.”

His face drew near and you strained your neck to hopefully maintain at least a hair of distance between both of your lips.

Alhaitham closed his eyes.

“Did you honestly think I’d postpone our practice due to your mild complaining? Don’t you understand how excruciating it is to be away from you for a week?”

He pressed his forehead against yours.

“But I had to do it. For us.”

“Where… Where were you when you were gone? What did you do to them?”

You didn’t want to ask.

You already know the answer.

“When will you start thinking before you speak?”

With fears renewed, your body felt small underneath his gaze. He’s not even looking at you— his piercing green eyes weren’t even looking directly at your soul. You turned away and gazed at his left shoulder— shrieking.

Never in your 100+ years of life did you feel so stupid. Only now did you realize that it wasn’t just a cicin mage’s perfume you smelled earlier.

There was blood all over his coat.

“Stop screaming, (Y/n). I’ve finished the job and it’s high time you reward me, wouldn’t you agree?”

#ansy-writes #yandere alhaitham #alhaitham #al haitham #yandere al haitham x reader #yandere alhaitham x reader #alhaitham x reader #al haitham x reader #yandere genshin #yandere genshin impact x reader #yandere genshin x reader #yandere fanfiction #yandere oneshots #male yandere #x reader fanfiction #yandere male lead #yandere genshin imagines #yandere genshin impact

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wambsgansshoelaces · 1 year ago

Text

Turmoil; Chapter 1

Roman Roy x fem!Reader -read the rest here!

Prompt: slowburn romantic drama, arranged marriage plot line

a/n: thank you to anon for requesting! if you requested this fic, please tell me so I can tag you! I apologize if this reads as unrealistic or too dramatic- but please let me know your thoughts!

Word Count: 2.358k

Nothing. You’d turned yourself into something from nothing.

You’d ended up in New York on your own, running from your past, vying for a fresh start. With a degree from Harvard law in your pocket and an unsatiated hunger for success, it only took one case to change your fortune.

Your boss had pawned the case off on you because it seemed impossible. A man charged for real property fraud, and heaps of evidence to prove it. You initially thought you’d pawn the case off to some other schmuck, until you’d been given an anonymous tip and found a discrepancy in a bit of evidence that unraveled the opposition’s entire case.

It was a massive win- not just for you, but for your entire firm -and it came with a massive raise.

A few years later, you’d amassed an egregious amount of money in total and even more respect from those around you, so you quit and founded your own firm. You’re thankful for everything you have. You stay humble, you’re likable, and you make sure everyone in your employment is as well. It keeps you afloat- New York loves you, but more importantly, they trust you.

It earns you millions.

You’re happy with the life you lead. You frequent charity events, donating whenever you can, staying kind. You know what kindness can feel like during a period of misery. You remember what relief felt like when extended a hand, so you extend yours whenever you can.

You help the people around you. You’re kind to everyone, conduct yourself with grace, and are aware of yourself and those around you.

Maybe that’s why Logan Roy chose you.

He’d written to you a week ago, inviting you to dinner to discuss business prospects. You assume he’s gotten himself into a legal pickle involving some of his questionable activity which some regard as criminal.

When you enter the restaurant, one of his men spawn at your side and lead you into the dimly lit back where nobody is sitting. Your heels click on the marble, your gait not wavering.

“Mr. Roy,” you say when you see him. He gets up, albeit very slowly, and shakes your hand.

“Y/L/N in the flesh.” He sits back down and gestures to the seat across from him. You oblige. “You’ve made quite the name for yourself.”

“I do my best.”

He beckons over a passing waiter. “Get her whatever she wants. Put it on my tab.”

You quietly order a small appetizer and watch him watch you.

“Well, Mr. Roy, I hate beating around the bush. Why am I here?”

“The first case you worked on. Do you remember that man’s name? The one you proved innocent?”

“Connor Frost. I don’t forget. Never showed his face once.”

“About him. For witness protection and press reasons, we were allowed to alter his name in the official papers. We also got away with him never being there.”

Your heart misses a beat.

“Connor Roy was on trial for real property fraud, and you proved him innocent,” he continues. You school your face into neutrality. You get a sick feeling in your stomach that won’t stop growing and gnawing at you. It threatens to eat you inside out. “I hate to burst your bubble, but he was guilty. Fucking stupid, it was.”

You blink. “I don’t mean any disrespect, but-”

Logan’s eyes never leave yours. “But nothing. The deed you found in Connor’s name? Forged. And the people who forged it were paid more than enough to never think of speaking about it in court. You couldn’t have known it was fake, so you took it to trial and won. I practically bankrolled that raise of yours.” You can feel yourself begin to itch. “Initially, there was never any need to tell you. If I had things my way, I’d have let you live your life doing whatever the fuck you wanted. But my son had other plans.” As if he didn’t just reveal that your first case was a joke, he offers you some wine. You quickly decline. You feel like you’re going to puke all over him.

“Kendall. You know Kendall.” His voice drips with venom. “Would’ve given everything to him, but he obviously has different ideas for the company. I can’t let him take it now. He’ll fuck up everything I’ve worked for and put into place at Waystar. And I’m not giving the company to the idiot who accidentally committed fraud to the point of felony, or the one who’s running around the world with her dumb fucking political bullshit. That leaves me with one son. So the company has to go to him.”

Logan tops off his glass of wine. “But, by God’s grace, this leftover son is the fucking stupidest of them all.”

You have no idea how this has anything to do with you.

“Let me be clear, Miss Y/L/N. I respect you. You’re a fantastic attorney. I’d have you on retainer- I will, once my current contract with that Frederica jackass runs out. But you must forgive me for all of this. I have to do what needs to be done.”

He inhales, then sighs. “For you to take control without me losing public face, I want you and my son to come to an agreement in a partnership.”

You have to give him the dumbest fucking look for him to respond with, “Marry him. I need you to marry him.”

“I’m sorry?” You can barely keep your composure. You think you’re dreaming, or someone spiked your water, or you’re dead, or anything but this.

“I can’t have him in control. I can pretend like he is, sure, but I need someone with a brain at the helm.”

“I… my degree is in criminal law. I have no idea how the corporate, let alone financial world runs.” It’s all you can think of to say.

He waves you off. “You’ll learn.”

You don’t know what to say. You probably look like a fish, mouth hung open as you gape at him. “Surely someone else is better suited to this than me. I won’t. I can’t.”

“This is why I had to apologize,” he mutters. “Do as I say, and our secret is kept. Walk away, the tabloids will learn of a little lady who buried and forged evidence to win her first court case.”

“You can’t be serious. I thought it was real!”

“The public doesn’t know that. Regardless, I’ve done worse. I’ve ruined stronger, more powerful people with much less.”

You press your lips into a thin line. “I suppose you’ve left me with no choice,” you grit out.

Logan smiles and claps his hands together. “Welcome to the family.” Your appetizer finally comes and is set in front of you. You don’t feel that hungry anymore. “What are you waiting for? Eat!”

He takes a bit of calamari from you. “I think it goes without saying,” he says, “that if you say anything about this conversation we’ve had, you’ll end up prosecuted and in jail for fraud.”

☾𖤓

You feel like you could punch a hole into the wall. You can’t believe it. It’s pure dumb fucking luck that you got caught in this.

Logan Roy didn’t choose you for your legal prowess, or any of your skill or ability like you’d stupidly believed. He chose you because he has control over you, and he knows it.

A few days pass, and you begrudgingly drag yourself out of your rotting place in bed. Cursing yourself the entire time, you change into something nice. Logan told you he was throwing a party in your name, to introduce you to the family- and the inner circle, you knew.

If anything, you think to yourself, you look fucking good.

You’re not prepared for the onslaught of paparazzi that bombards you the moment you step out of the house.

That bastard must’ve told the press about your engagement.

There’s nothing you can do but get into the black sedan waiting for you at the bottom of your driveway. You’re probably going to have to move, now.

You sit in the backseat, simmering the entire drive. You have to prepare yourself for the hell that’ll be stiff arming paparazzi to get to the party.

When you pull up, you take a deep breath, and step out the car. The man sitting in the passenger seat got out before you and walks out in front of you, another flanking you as you push through the chaos.

The flashes are almost blinding, but you keep your eyes open. Every picture taken tonight is going to be circulated tenfold by not even tomorrow morning. You hope you have resting bitch face in all of them.

Your miniature guard manages to get you inside with no issues. You’re late on purpose, and it seems like the room goes quiet when you enter.

The crowd stares back at you as you survey them. As much as your rage is telling you to make a scene, you won’t. Time and place, you tell yourself.

Immediately, you can tell Connor recognizes you. He tries to avoid your gaze, but your rage bubbles up and out of you. “Mind if I steal him for chat?” you ask the girl standing with him, voice painfully faux-sweet. You feel like you’re on Love Island, in some sick, twisted way.

The girl gives Connor an awkward pat on the arm before leaving him be. You can feel peoples’ eyes burning into the back of your head.

“You told me,” you begin, voice dangerously low, “that you didn’t do it.”

He looks everywhere but at you. “I was just doing what I had to.”

“Was fucking me over what you had to do? Because I feel like that’s all you did,” you hiss.

“Do you really think someone like me is going to ever go to jail?” Connor scoffs. “It could damage my reputation.”

“It could damage my reputation,” you mock. “Are you fucking stupid? Fucking God.”

You turn to leave, but immediately pivot back. “You’re a Roy. You would’ve been bailed out immediately. You wouldn’t have even gone to jail for an hour.”

You’re fuming. You’re barely holding it together.

Then, you catch the eyes of a man not that much taller than you, dressed in all crisp black. He’s handsome, you think, a light stubble dotting his jaw and soft eyes that wrinkle gently when he smiles.

He excuses himself from the conversation he’s having to come to you and Connor.

“Connor. You’ve met my lovely bride-to-be?”

You’re back to fuming, any thoughts of his beauty gone.

He sticks his hand out to you. “Roman Roy. Nice to meet you, I’m your fiancé.” His voice is painfully bitter.

“You think I want this any more than you do?” you ask under your breath, your handshake way too firm. His grip on your hand is equally as tight.

Connor snorts. “At least act like you like each other.”

“You’re the reason any of this happened. Keep yourself out of it,” you snap.

Roman sighs and turns away from Connor. “Can we go for a walk? We should probably have a word.” To your dismay, you agree.

As soon as you’re out of the main atrium and by yourselves in a grand hallway, you speak freely. “Listen, this is nothing personal,” you begin, “but I’m looking for a way out of this.”

Roman looks over at you as you walk, both of you going at a snail’s pace. “I don’t stink, do I?” He sticks his hands in his pockets. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry this happened to you. I know he’s blackmailing you.”

You sigh. “I should’ve known something was wrong with the case when I never saw my fucking client in person.”

“Well, I want this over as quickly as you do. My father doesn’t want me anywhere near the company, and I’d like to change that.” You both stop walking to face each other. Maybe you two can be friends, despite everything.

“Let me make something clear, though.” Roman takes a step towards you, leaning forward to whisper in your ear. “I’m only in this for me. Not you.”

Whatever positive thoughts you’d had were chased away. You spend the rest of the night fuming under your skin, lying through your teeth, and standing by yourself in the corner.

Siobhan Roy is the first to approach you.

“I admire you, you know.”

“Your father said that too, and look where I am now.”

She presses a flute of champagne into your hand. “I’m not my father.” You share a tense look. “Listen. I think we can do something good together,” she says lowly. “You want to disentangle yourself from this situation, and I want my father out of the picture when it comes to Waystar. Some of my clients have used your firm during political scandal. They all came away unscathed… I have full trust in your ability.”

“What do you want from me?”

“When the time comes,” Siobhan says, “I want you to help take my father to court. And put him down under. So to speak,” she adds. “And I’ll help make sure that if my father ever says anything about you, nobody believes it.”

After Siobhan, it’s Kendall.

“Shiv talked to you.” He’s worse at keeping conversation than she is. “I would also be involved in this. I’d take my dad’s place as CEO, Roman becomes COO.”

“I take him to court, I’m told.”

“Yeah. Yeah, you do, and you win,” he says carefully. “And then you get so much money you can run away to some foreign country and forget any of this happened.”

You regard him carefully. “How can I trust you? Or Siobhan? Or anyone in this fucking place?”

Kendall pauses, and takes a moment to think. “You can’t,” is all he says before leaving you standing on your own once again.

Finally, Roman makes his way back to you. You bristle as you watch him approach. “I know you don’t really like me right now, but I want to go home and I can’t leave without you on my arm. So, shall we?”

You roll your eyes, but take his elbow anyway.

#roman roy #roman roy x you #roman roy x reader #succession #succession hbo #succession fic #succession x reader #slowburn #roman roy slowburn #romantic drama #succession slowburn #x reader slowburn #wambsgansshoelaces #turmoil

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ultrone · 1 year ago

Note

any way can u write an enemies to lovers w nat (precrash) nat and r hate each other, rest of the yellowjackets are annoyed w them not getting along so they forge an intervention (stick them both in a room and force them to bond) heavy denial about liking each other

𝗕𝗟𝗔𝗖𝗞 𝗦𝗧𝗔𝗥 ★ 𝖿𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗇𝖽𝗌 𝗍𝗈 𝖾𝗇𝖾𝗆𝗂𝖾𝗌 𝗍𝗈 𝗉𝗋𝖾-𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗌 𝖾𝖽𝗂𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇

cw. fighting, smoking weed.

wc. 3.2k

n/a. tysm for the request, i hope u like it :) and sorry abt the delay, it took me a while to come up with the beef between them 😭

You tried to forcefully jiggle the door open, but despite your efforts, it remained stubbornly closed.

Nat let out a frustrated sigh and spoke up, "Just stop, it's not gonna work." She said, watching you from the corner of the room.

You turned to her, frowning, and sat on the floor with crossed legs, a few feet away from her.

You should’ve known this was going to happen.

“Give it back you asshole!” Nat exclaimed, annoyance evident in her voice as she reached out for your hand. It held a small bag you had taken from her just moments ago.

“Dude, we’ve got practice in an hour, get your shit together,” you retorted, withdrawing your hand and using the other to push her away.

“I just wanna have a fucking smoke,” she argued, “It’s not that big of a deal. Don’t be a moron,” she said, her anger palpable.

“What is going on with you two?” Jackie intervened, clearly annoyed and confused.

“Just the usual, Y/n’s being a fucking dick,” Nat complained.

“I’m not.” You rolled your eyes, turning to Jackie, “Jackie, could you please tell Nat to be responsible for once in her fucking life and go od after practice? Not before.” You complained to her.

"Fuck you!" Nat exclaimed, shoving you on the shoulder.

"No, fuck you!" you shot back, pushing her in return.

Before you knew it, the two of you were engaged in a childish fight until Jackie and Tai intervened, separating the both of you.

"I don't know what the hell’s been going on between you two, but you need to stop. Right now." Tai said, her tone firm and assured.

"Yeah, this behaviour is starting to affect the team," Jackie added. "Everyone's noticed, even the coach. So cut it out. Consider this your final warning."

"You know what? Fuck it." Nat said, walking past Tai. She turned to face you and pointed at your chest. "And fuck you," she said, before finally leaving.

You shrugged, letting out a stressed sigh, and shook your head in disagreement as you walked out of the room behind her.

Little did you know that the whole team was plotting against you, scheming to trap you and Nat in the gym’s backroom. They played you like fools, telling each of you to grab more soccer balls. Nat fell for it first and slipped away without you even noticing. By the time you entered the room and noticed her holding two soccer balls in her arms, someone had already locked the door behind you, leaving you both stuck inside.

Time crawled by, only ten minutes passing, yet it felt like an eternity. Stranded in that room, both of you had stupidly left your phones outside. There was nothing in that cramped space to distract you except each other, and well, that wasn't even an option at this point. So, you were left alone with your own thoughts, and let me tell you, it wasn't a pleasant experience.

Your eyes kept darting around the room, desperate to avoid making eye contact with Nat. You shifted your position, uncrossing your legs and propping them up in front of you, knees bent. Without even realizing it, you began tapping your foot up and down, making the sole of your shoe smack against the floor.

"Can you stop that?" Nat snapped, clearly annoyed by your restless behavior.

You stopped your foot's movements, but you didn't bother to respond. An eye roll was all she got from you.

In an attempt to get comfortable, Nat got up and rummaged through a box filled with brand new, unworn Yellowjackets sweaters. She grabbed one, went back to her spot, and laid down on her back, using the sweater as a makeshift pillow. With one forearm covering her eyes, shielding them from the dim light, she rested her other hand on her stomach.

A few more minutes passed, in complete silence.

Wait a minute, you thought, a realization hitting you like a lightning bolt. Your hands instinctively shot towards your left pocket, and a wave of relief washed over you as you felt the familiar presence. No fucking way. Thank god. Hastily, you slipped your hand into your pocket, retrieving the small bag of weed and rolling paper that you had swiped from Nat during your argument earlier today. And as luck would have it, you always carried a lighter with you, just in case of an "emergency." You were damn well prepared.

Wasting no time, you excitedly cracked open the bag, readying your supplies with lightning speed. You skillfully rolled up a joint in a matter of seconds. Once you were finished, you placed it between your lips, holding it firmly, and with a flick of your thumb, the little flame on the lighter sprang to life. Bringing the flame close to the joint, you lit it up, shielding it with your other hand to ensure a perfect burn.

Interrupted by the all-too-familiar sound, Nat sluggishly shifted her forearm away from her eyes. As her gaze adjusted to the light, she turned to you, her eyes widening in disbelief.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” She blurted out, incredulous, sitting up abruptly. "Is that my stash?" she questioned, her tone a mix of surprise and accusation.

"Indeed it is," you responded, taking a deep drag from the joint. As you exhaled a cloud of smoke, Nat continued to stare at you, her expression transitioning from disbelief to annoyance.

"What?" you asked casually, relishing in the playful taunting. "I mean, it's not like we're going to practice today, right?"

"I can't fucking believe you," she muttered, disbelief and amusement evident in her voice as she let out a chuckle.

Extending your arm, you offered her the joint, a mischievous glint in your eyes. For a moment, she hesitated, but let's face it, there was nothing else to do in that stuffy room, and she was starting to go crazy. Besides, she had been craving a smoke ever since you snatched her stash earlier, so why not indulge?

Nat stood up from her spot and made her way toward you. As she lowered herself to sit down, just a few inches away from you, she reached out and took the joint from your fingers. Inhaling deeply, she mirrored your sitting position, her arm resting on her knee as she brought the joint close to her mouth for another drag.

The two of you remained in a comfortable silence, sharing the joint between you, the smoke weaving its way through the air. Eventually, Nat broke the silence.

"I didn't know you smoked," she remarked, her curiosity evident in her tone.

"Well, there's a lot you don't know about me," you replied cryptically.

Nat's expression turned serious, but a hint of amusement flickered in her eyes. "Well, I do know you're an asshole," she asserted, maintaining a deadpan face.

A playful grin tugged at your lips as you matched her tone. "You think you're funny, huh?" you retorted.

"Hey, it's the truth," she said, a touch of seriousness creeping into her voice. But you brushed it off, choosing to ignore her comment for now.

"Can I ask why?" Nat inquired, breaking the silence once more.

"Why what?" you replied, feigning ignorance, though you knew exactly what she was referring to.

"Why have you been acting like this?" she pressed. "One day we were cool, and then suddenly you turned into a total dickhead."

“You're a pain in my ass too, y’know?" you retorted, feeling the need to defend yourself.

"But I am because you are," she shot back, her argument strong.

You let out a sigh, feeling the weight of the question hanging in the air. Slowly, you brought the joint to your lips once again, taking a deliberate drag before exhaling, the smoke dissipating into the room. Your eyes fixed on the wall ahead, lost in thought.

"You really don't know, do you?" you murmured, the words almost escaping as a whisper.

Nat turned to look at you, her brows furrowing and her gaze filled with confusion, searching for answers.

You couldn't help but chuckle, a nervous yet affectionate sound escaping your lips, as you deliberately avoided meeting her gaze.

“It’s stupid,” you said with a sigh, “Now that I think about it, it wasn’t even your fault.”

“What is it?” she asked, her confusion evident.

Nat and you used to be good friends. While you weren't particularly close during school hours, barely acknowledging each other as you passed in the hallways with a simple nod, you were close enough to hang out after practice pretty much every day. You both would head to the parking lot and lie down on the trunk of Nat's car. There, you would gaze at the sky as it gradually darkened, listening to music, either talking or simply revelling in the comforting silence. It sort of became your thing, a little secret that held great importance to you.

However, as time went on and your conversations deepened, you couldn't help but develop feelings for her. You would eagerly await the end of practice just to see her again, to enjoy the privacy of each other's company.

But then, you stopped showing up.

"Do you remember that day when Shauna kicked the ball so hard that it hit Van directly in the face and gave her a concussion?" you asked her.

"Yeah, of course I do," she replied with a chuckle, recalling the incident vividly. "And we had to call an ambulance and ended up leaving practice half an hour early."

You chuckled along. "Exactly. And had planned to meet at our spot, but I told you I needed to grab something from my locker. So, you said you'd wait for me there."

She nodded, her brow furrowing as she tried to piece the puzzle together. "Yeah, and then you never showed up. Not that day or any day after."

You nodded, feeling a bit guilty. "Well, I did go to my locker to get something, but that's beside the point," you began, your voice tinged with regret. "The thing is, as I walked back to the parking lot and opened the building door to step outside, I could see your car perfectly. You weren't lying on the trunk as we always did though. Instead, you were standing beside it, with your back turned to me," you explained, "And as I approached, I realized that you weren't alone."

Nat's face shifted from confusion to realization, but she remained silent, giving you space to explain.

"As I got closer, I saw the guy leaning in," you continued, furrowing your eyebrows as you recalled the memory. "And then you kissed." The words hung heavy in the air as you conveyed the pain and disappointment you had felt at that moment. "I didn't want to interrupt or cause a scene, so I turned around and walked away. Seeing you with someone else, especially after realizing my own feelings for you, was more than I could handle."

You paused, letting the weight of your words settle between you. "I didn't have the courage to confront you about it then, and I thought it would be easier to distance myself instead. But it wasn't your fault. I guess I was just angry because I wanted to be with you so badly but I couldn’t have you, so I started acting like an asshole. I'm sorry," you said, your voice filled with genuine remorse. Your gaze remained fixed on the floor, unable to meet her eyes. Embarrassment weighed heavily on you.

Nat let out a frustrated sigh, running her fingers through her hair in a stressed gesture. "Damn it, Y/n," she sighed. "I had no idea," she admitted, her voice tinged with surprise and frustration. "The guy you saw me with was Kevyn," She started explaining, "As I was walking to my car, we happened to cross paths, and he said he needed to talk to me about something. We started walking together towards my car, and long story short, he confessed his feelings for me and then kissed me. I was completely caught off guard, so it took me a few seconds to react, but I pushed him away. I guess you didn't see that part," she said, her voice tinged with frustration. "I rejected him right away, Y/n. I told him that I had feelings for someone else, and he apologized for kissing me like that and left."

You listened, your heart sinking with every word she spoke. The truth unfolded before you, and you realized how mistaken you had been.

"I waited for you," Nat continued, her voice laced with a touch of sadness. "I waited for an hour, then two, but you never showed up. I thought something might have happened, but you didn't respond to any of my texts, and I got worried." She paused, her expression reflecting the hurt she had felt. "The next day, I saw you at practice, and I felt relieved, thinking everything was okay. But you wouldn't even look at me. And then, you didn't show up at our spot either."

She took a deep breath. "I thought you didn't want to be my friend anymore or something, I don’t know. I got really upset and wanted to talk to you about it, but then you started acting like an asshole. So, I got mad and started acting like that as well. But I never understood why. I guess I just went along with it."

Nat's voice softened, revealing the depth of her emotions. "I started hating you so much because you were the only person I could truly be myself with. I loved you, Y/n, and then you just left without an explanation."

As she poured her heart out, you finally looked up, meeting her gaze. The raw emotions in her eyes mirrored your own.

Tears welled up in your eyes, "I'm so sorry, Nat," you whispered, "I misunderstood everything, I’m so dumb,” A single tear escaped your eye, rolling down your cheek.

Nat's expression softened further, her eyes filled with understanding. "It's alright, Y/n," she reassured you, her voice gentle and soothing. "I had no idea that you saw me with Kevyn, and I never meant to hurt you." With a gentle touch, she used her thumb to wipe away the tears from your cheeks.

"I missed you so much," you confessed, your gaze locked with hers.

A small, affectionate smile graced Nat's lips. "I missed you too, you dumbass," she replied, the gentle teasing highlighting the warmth in her voice.

You extended your arms and pulled her into a tight hug. She reciprocated it, her arms wrapping around you, and her fingers caressed your hair soothingly.

The two of you remained locked in the embrace for a moment, finding solace and comfort in each other's arms. However, the sound of someone fumbling with the lock on the door shattered the tranquility, jolting both of you back to reality. Instinctively, you pulled away from each other, your hearts racing.

"Shit! The stash!" Nat exclaimed in a whisper, a sudden realization dawning upon her. She swiftly moved and positioned herself on top of it, acting on reflex to conceal it from view.

Just as you both scrambled to compose yourselves, the door swung open, revealing Misty standing in the doorway.

As she stepped into the room, she started rambling, divulging how she had overheard a conversation between Tai, Jackie, and Van, who planned to lock the both of you up in the gym's backroom. Misty, in her usual saviour complex fashion, sprung into action, determined to rescue you from such a predicament. She told you to make your exit discreetly through the back, ensuring that the girls wouldn't catch sight of you leaving. Grateful for her intervention, you and Nat thanked her.

However, Misty seemed to be in a talkative mood, wanting to continue the conversation, until Nat, with her characteristic straightforwardness, couldn't help but say, “Okay, Misty, we get it.” She said, her tone laced with annoyance. “Thanks again for your help. See you later.”

Understanding the hint, Misty finally caught on and nodded, her enthusiasm momentarily dampened. "Sure thing," she replied, slightly deflated. "Take care, you two. See you around."

With that, Misty left the room, leaving the two of you alone once again.

"You're so rude to her," you playfully remarked, nudging Nat with your elbow and letting out a light chuckle as the both of you stood up, ready to leave the room.

Nat shrugged, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Can't help it," she replied, reaching down to grab her stash and rising to her feet. Then, she turned to you, her gaze softening. "Hey," she called, her voice tinged with shyness. "Would you want to come with me? Like, to the trunk. You know, to catch up and stuff."

A smile spread across your face, accompanied by a gentle blush. "That'd be awesome," you responded, excitement lacing your voice. "But before we head there, can you come to my locker with me?"

"Of course I will," Nat agreed, her tone filled with assurance. "Wouldn't want you slipping away again, not on my watch," she added jokingly.

You chuckled sarcastically, unable to resist teasing her in return. "Ha, you know what should be on your watch though? That big-ass green stain on your butt." A mischievous smirk adorned your face.

Nat's eyes widened, and she quickly spun around to inspect her shorts, discovering the noticeable stain caused by sitting on top of the stash. Feeling a twinge of embarrassment, she hastily patted her shorts, trying to remove the stain as best as she could. "Shut up," she mumbled, a slight blush coloring her cheeks. "Let's go," she said, taking the lead and walking out of the room. You followed closely behind her, a content smile playing on your lips.

As you both stood by your locker, Nat stood beside you, watching curiously as you opened the lock. With a few swift movements, you arranged some items and retrieved a small box that had been carefully hidden in the back.

You retrieved the box and handed it to Nat, who looked at you with confusion and intrigue. "What's this?" she asked, her voice laced with curiosity as she opened it.

"This is what I was getting from my locker that day," you revealed, "About a week before that, I remember we were listening to the radio together, and 'Black Star' by Radiohead started playing. You mentioned how much you loved that song. So, when I got home, I decided to make you a mixtape with songs I like that have a similar vibe."

You watched as Nat's eyes widened, the realization dawning upon her. "You made me a mixtape?" she asked surprised, her fingers brushing against the cassette tape inside.

You nodded, a small smile playing on your lips. "Yes, I did. But, obviously, I didn't give it to you back then because of everything that happened," you continued, "But I've held onto it all this time, just in case."

Her gaze met yours, and you could see the fondness reflected in her eyes. "This is so dope," she exclaimed, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “Thank you, Y/n."

Another smile spread across your face at her words. "You're welcome," you replied. "Now, let's go to your car so we can listen to it together." Without hesitation, you gently took her hand, intertwining your fingers, and led the way toward the exit, making your way to her trunk.

#nat scatorccio #nat scatorccio fanfic #nat scatorccio x reader #nat scatorccio x y/n #nat scatorccio x you #nat scatorccio oneshot #nat scatorccio fic #yellowjackets nat scatorccio #yellowjackets #yellowjackets fanfics #yellowjackets oneshot #young nat scatorccio #young natalie scatorccio #yellowjackets x reader #natalie scatorccio #natalie scatorccio x reader #natalie scatorccio fic #natalie scatorccio fanfic #natalie scatorccio oneshot

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george-weasleys-girl · 1 year ago

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HI. You can choose whichever of the two (Fred or George, George or Fred, Gred and Forge) or you can do for both of them. I read your prompt list and two of them caught my eye. “First one who makes a noise loses” and “Let’s make a baby.” I anticipate as what you have in mind, you can choose one or both if needed..!

Thank you for your request, lovely! This is my first smut fic.😬I hope you enjoy it!

Oh, So Quiet

18+ only

George Weasley x fem!reader

Warnings: smut, George tries to be a teasing jerk, fails miserably.

~•~

Y/N grinned. She knew that look, and the fact that, seconds later, George grabbed her hand and pulled her upstairs and into the back of the warehouse proved it.

"You know exactly what you're doing, don't you?" He growled, pressing her against the little corner table.

"Whatever do you mean?" She titled her head, eyes widened.

"You know I can't resist you in that skirt," he moved his hands down her hips and began pushing it up.

Y/N licked her lips, admiring the growing bulge inside his pants. "Oh my, is this that skirt?"

George cocked an eyebrow as he slid his hand between her legs and damn near came then and there when he realized she had a little surprise waiting for him. "No panties?"

"Dear me," she gasped in mock surprise. "I knew there was something I was forgetting this morning."

He pressed her tightly to him grinding his still clothed erection against her exposed pussy. A soft moan fell from her lips, and she reached down to unbutton his pants. But he stopped her mid-movement, trapping both of her hands in one of his. Two can play at this game.

"First one who makes a noise, loses," he mummered in her ear, grinning and absolutely confident that he'd win this little wager.

Y/N smiled and hopped onto the table, spreading herself wide. "You're on."

~•~

It took every ounce of willpower George had to keep himself quiet. He'd never realized how much noise he actually made during sex until he could no longer make a sound. And yet, even as he angled himself to hit the spot that turned his wife into a quivering, moaning mess, he couldn't pull even the tiniest whimper from her open mouth.

George bit down hard on his lip, watching as his cock disappeared over and over inside Y/N's pulsing heat. He sped up his pace, knowing they only had a few minutes before Verity or one of the other employees came looking for them. He instinctively turned to look behind them, just as Y/N clenched around him, snapping his attention back to her.

Her head was thrown back, eyes squeezed shut and lips drawn tightly together as her orgasm crashed over her. It was more than he could take, and he exploded inside her, unable to stop the guttural moan that escaped his lips.

"Fuck," he chuckled, letting his head fall forward to rest on her shoulder, his hips pumping lazily, riding out the last of their highs.

"I win," she panted, her cheekiness evident even through her breathlessness.

"Indeed you did," he grinned, shifting a little so he could look at her. But much to their disappointment, they didn't have time to bask in the afterglow.

"Mr. Weasley? Mrs. Weasley?" Simon's squeeky voice drifted through the warehouse.

George sighed and pulled out with a soft groan, then quickly got himself in order. "I'll take care of this while you get presentable again," he said, giving her a quick kiss before sprinting around the corner.

~•~

*if you don't want to be tagged in future smut, please let me know!

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#george weasley #george weasley x reader #george weasley x y/n #george weasley x fem!reader #george weasley x you #george weasley smut

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50calmadeuce · 8 days ago

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Ch. 46: Dorian's Last Questioning

Warning: Mention of miscarriage. Some chapters have sex.

Disclaimer: This is a work of fan fiction using characters from the Top Gun: Maverick world, trademarked by Paramount Pictures Corporation. I do not claim ownership of the characters and the world that I am borrowing.

The story and situation I am creating are a work of my imagination and I do not ascribe them to official story canon. This work is for entertainment only and is not a part of the storyline.

I am not profiting financially from the creation and publication of this story, but I do hope it gives you happy thoughts.

These stories are my own, so please do not take them and use them for yourself without my permission. If you see them somewhere else, please let me know. :)

You watched as Dorian hesitated but eventually rose from his seat, walking to the witness stand with an air of reluctance. The bailiff reminded him that he was still under oath, and Dorian adjusted himself in the stand, visibly uncomfortable.

You could see his jaw tighten as he glanced toward Dunby, clearly anticipating a difficult line of questioning.

Dunby approached the stand with calm but deliberate steps. "Dr. Stryker, I want to ask you about the day you brought Dr. Seresin to your property. You testified previously that you had no intention of causing her harm, but we've seen evidence of forged documents and coercion. So tell us, why did you go to such lengths to control her?"

Dorian's face darkened, his usual mask of composure cracking slightly. "I did what I had to. She… she didn't understand and I had to show her."

"Show her what, exactly?" Dunby pressed, his tone sharp and unyielding.

Dorian turned and looked at you. "I had to show her how pathetic and worthless her husband was and that I was better."

A chill ran down your spine as Dorian's words hung in the air, his gaze fixed intensely on you. Dunby’s face hardened as he turned back to him.

"So," Dunby began, his voice low but firm, "you wanted to prove your superiority by tearing down her husband in her eyes? And you believed this would win her over?"

Dorian’s expression twisted, his desperation evident. "Yes," he admitted, voice laced with bitterness. "She was blinded by her loyalty to him. If she could see him for what he truly was, she'd realize who really cared for her, who was better for her."

Dunby took a step closer, his tone laced with restrained anger. "So you thought tearing down everything she valued would somehow bring her closer to you? That by forcing her into isolation and fear, she’d turn to you with gratitude?"

Dorian’s jaw clenched, his hands gripping the edge of the stand. "I was only showing her the truth. I gave her everything—guidance, support—and she threw it away for him."

Dunby paused, letting the courtroom settle into tense silence. He looked at the jury, then back at Dorian. "Dr. Stryker, you didn't offer support or guidance. What you offered was control, manipulation, and fear. Love doesn’t shatter someone’s sense of safety, nor does it demand they sacrifice their freedom. What you did wasn’t about her at all—it was about you, and the control you never deserved." He paused and looked at Dorian. "You heard the testimony from Dr. Seresin's husband. He admitted he screwed up, but he never stopped loving Dr. Seresin just as much as she loved him."

Dorian's face tightened, but he didn’t respond, his gaze flickering away for the first time. Dunby seized the moment, letting the silence settle before continuing.

"And despite all that’s happened, Dr. Seresin chose to stand by her husband and work through their challenges. Love isn’t about proving superiority, Dr. Stryker. It’s about respect, commitment, and—most importantly—trust." Dunby glanced at you briefly, then back at Dorian. "Something that, unfortunately, seems to have been lost on you." Dunby walked closer to the witness stand. "Do you understand that you had to drug Dr. Seresin to get the attention her and her husband give each other every day even though he's thousands of miles away?"

Dorian shifted uncomfortably, his jaw clenched tightly. He avoided meeting Dunby’s eyes, his expression clouded with frustration.

Dunby waited for a response, then continued, "Dr. Stryker, that kind of devotion can't be forced, manipulated, or manufactured with deceit. It’s earned, with honesty and genuine connection. You tried to replace something that could never be yours by taking it, and in doing so, you violated the trust of a good person."

"She gave me all of that while he was away the first time," Dorian said, his tone cold but nostalgic. "We worked perfectly together, gathering the data, writing the book. We were one." He turned, his eyes locking onto yours with a dark, unsettling glint. "We should still be one."

A chill spread through the courtroom as Dorian’s words filled the air. His gaze held a disturbing intensity, and you could feel the weight of his fixation bearing down on you.

Dunby stepped in closer, blocking Dorian's line of sight to you. "And yet, Dr. Stryker, even in all your work together, she never stopped loving her husband. That bond they share is unbreakable—and despite everything you've done, it remains that way."

Dorian scoffed, his gaze shifting back to Dunby. "She doesn’t understand. None of you do. We were perfect—until he came back into the picture."

Dunby shook his head, glancing at the jury. "Ladies and gentlemen, this isn’t love; this is possession. Dr. Stryker manipulated, deceived, and isolated her to satisfy his own needs, disregarding her freedom, her marriage, and her autonomy. The evidence is clear. This is a case of obsession masked as affection, a man willing to go to any length to control the one person who never belonged to him in the first place." Dunby turned to the Judge. "No more questions, Your Honor."

The Judge turned to Dorian's attorney. "Mr. Rowe?"

Attorney Rowe stood up, adjusting his dress coat as he did. "No questions, Your Honor."

The judge turned to Dorian. "Dr. Stryker, you may return to your seat." Straightening, he addressed the court, his voice carrying authority. "We’ll take a fifteen-minute recess before reconvening for closing arguments." With a firm strike of the gavel, he signaled the break, and a low murmur filled the room as people began moving about.

Tags: @buckysteveloki-me @bellyliveslife @tgmreader @callsign-barbelle @86laura11 @dizzybee03 @kmc1989 @guacam011y @nerdgirljen @hookslove1592 @dempy @djs8891 @smoothdogsgirl @devil-angel-winchester @alwayshave-faith

#jake hangman seresin #jake seresin fanfiction #jake seresin x you #glen powell #hangman #hangman top gun #top gun maverick hangman #hangman fanfic #top gun fanfic #jake hangman x reader #jake hangman seresin fic #jake seresin #jake hangman x you #jake hangman fic #jake seresin fic #top gun hangman #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick

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yuriisclumsy · 1 month ago

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omg, thank youu for responding mee😭💞 i never thought i would find another fan of intkot which i want to request :3 so, if you do, maybe you could do Deon or the emperor? I don't mind if you write them both unless If you mind and i would like it to be fluff! Thank youu<33

Take the Damn Cupcake

[Authors Note]: You said fluff? Yes, fluff… I have little to no idea what fluff would look like with either of the two… I mean, let’s be honest, these two are nothing but emotionally detached from reality. But, nonetheless, I'll give it a try and see what I come up with. I was only able to do Deon.

PS. ALSO sorry this took so long. I just couldn't get my head around what Deon would do for fluff. In my mind, he can't do fluff...

𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝙲𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝: 1155

– They’ll most likely be OOC, again because they would NOT act like this in OG. At least from the Manhwa; they might as well act like this in the light novel.

– Let’s establish some things before we start.

– For one, Deon is not a child. Just getting that out of the way.

– Two, when I tell you this man doesn’t know what social cues are, I mean it.

– Three, we have to take into consideration Deon’s other personality like the crazy side that can push us back from getting to the real him? (if there even is one).

– Now, the scenario must be established: Let us say you are a noblewoman in high society, wanting nothing to do with any political or power struggles all around you. One day, your family–mostly your father–gets accused of treason. For this, your father and brothers get out to death. Your sister gets married off to a low commoner, while you get the low end of the stick and become a slave, who has to follow the orders of their master.

– And that’s where we are beginning! Don’t worry the fluff is coming…somewhere…

Father wasn’t someone who was very attentive to his family but he wasn’t a bad man either. So when soldiers came and broke down the doors of our residence screaming my father’s name and traitor in the same sentence, I was shocked. My father wasn’t against the crown, he was one of the first who agreed with the emperor’s ascension.

Then…why?

Why is the emperor doing this? Why are my relatives being sent to the slave encampment? Why are my brothers and father’s blood scattered all over the pristine floors? Why is my mother’s body hanging by a rope outside the castle walls? Why is my older sister marrying a commoner who’s only worth is less than a grain of salt? Why am I kneeling in front of the man who commanded this annihilation of our family’s honor and name? Why…?

“[Name] Fidel, youngest daughter of the Fidel family’s Head, and last member of the most loyal family in the empire…” eyes pierced through my very soul, “...what do you have to say about the transgression your father committed towards the empire?”

I stared at the imposing man sitting comfortably in his throne forged from blood. What could I say? That my father was innocent with sharp evidence that he wasn’t? That me and my family knew nothing of this? That I knew my father’s crimes and stayed quiet, even if it was a lie?

“Your majesty… I… Please...spare me….” I begged for my sake

“You’re begging for mercy?” The man stood up, “and here I thought your family had some dignity. But knowing what your father did, I don’t think any of you ever did.”

Why did I even speak? My fate was sealed the moment my father was accused of treason. Maybe I’ll get lucky and get married to a commoner like my sister, and survive… But knowing the emperor, he’s most likely to send me off to get killed.

Dear world… Please save me.

The emperor went down the steps, one at a time, humming about the punishment I should receive. He stopped and looked down at me.

“Look up,” he commanded, and I obliged. “Oh. I know what your punishment can be…” He looked back up at the flight of stairs towards a man with white hair.

My eyes widened at the realization that was to come. No…No, please..! I begged internally to hear my pleas. Anything but that monster!

“Deon, would you care for a slave?” the emperor asked. “It would be good to vent out your frustrations and anger onto something, don’t you think?”

“...” the man remained silent and glared at me. “...I suppose.”

“Then it’s decided,” he turned to look at my misery, “from here on, you are a Deon Heart’s slave. Is that understood?”

“Yes...your majesty,” I said, bowing my head on the ground.

“Good.”

This was going to be the end of me… I thought as I gazed at the man who now had ownership over me.

…

The time in the Hart manor…wasn't nearly as bad as I thought it would be. From the moment I stepped foot into this mansion, I was treated normally. People would even still address me as lady Fidel, even if that name no longer existed, they still respected me as if I never lost my honor.

Another of my worries was how the house would look inside. Many rumors suggested that the inside of the house still had the blood of the count's parents. For one, the house didn’t look like a murder scene–with the exception of a portrait by the stairs–it was all neatly cleaned. I dare say, cleaner than the floor of the emperor's castle.

My last worry was Count Deon. With the ruthless reputation he has, I thought I was in for a session of pain. But… He hadn't even looked at me since he took me here as a reward, as they called it.

Maybe…people had been mistaken about his character? I stopped swiping the floor as I thought of Deon actually being a nice guy. No, [Name]! You need to stay vigilant. He is yet to get mad, what if he explodes and decides to kill us all!? I swept faster and made grunting noises from my distress.

“What are you doing…?”

“EP!” I flipped back as fast as possible, “I-I’m so sorry, sir—!” Red eyes pierced my body. Those bloody eyes are not what you wish to see in the estate. “M-master Deon… I… let me get out of your way m-master…” I made myself to the side to make way for Count Deon.

“Huh…?” He looked puzzled.

Crap, did I do something he didn’t like!?

“I’m sorry if I offended you in any way master Deon…!” I vowed down. If I didn’t hold a bit of my pride, I would be on my knees begging him not to eat me alive.

“Don’t call me that. It’s annoying me…” Deon said with a cold voice.

“Y-YES, OF COURSE COUNT DEON!” I yelled and apologized profusely; I wanted to curl up in a ball and slowly die. Please leave me alone!

“And don’t yell.”

“Yes…”

“...”

God, and the heavens above…please have mercy upon me and get me out of this situation!

I was on the verge of tears, until a pastry came into my line of view. “Huh?” I looked up to see that it was Count Deon who had his arm stretched out.

“Take it,” his arm moved closer to me, waiting for me to take the medium size cupcake.

I was hungry and wanted to take it, but I retracted my hand away from it. What if this is one of those perverse games of his? It could have poison, and when I eat it, he’ll be laughing at my dying body while I try to scream for help. But if I don’t accept it, he’ll get mad..! Oh, why did this have to happen to me!?

As minutes passed and my mind battled on what action I should take. I felt a hand grab my wrist and twisted it until my palm was facing upwards. Then, I felt the soft bottom of the cupcake.

“Just take the damn cupcake,” Count Deon said with a small scuff. I saw as he slowly left for his office. He stopped mid-walk and called back to me, “[Name]?”

“Y-yes?!”

“Next time, accept whatever I give you. Got that?”

“O..kay?” He nodded and fully left. I was left in the hallway with a cupcake in hand. My eyes wandered back to the pastry. My stomach wanted to try it, so I tried it, even if my brain warned me not to. “Oh!” It was sweet! Vanilla flavor with chocolate inside it, topped with whipping cream.

If the cupcake had poison, I couldn't taste it. I gazed back at the spot where Count Deon was last.

“...Maybe… He isn’t that bad after all.”

Fin

𝚃𝚊𝚐𝚜: None (because this is a one-time request for this fandom... Unless).

Master-List

#deon hart #reader input #reader insert #manhwa x reader #manhwa fanfic #ntkot #emperor ntkot #deon hart x reader #ntkot x reader

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chokememaximoff · 1 year ago

Text

Sparks and Smoke: Wanda, Y/N, and the Unanticipated Connection

stoner Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Abstract:Y/N, the seemingly perfect sister of Natasha Romanoff, finds her world shifting when the sassy and enigmatic Wanda Maximoff joins the Avengers. As they train together and forge a unique bond, Y/N's facade of perfection begins to crack. When their relationship takes an unexpected turn, Y/N must navigate the complexities of sisterly support and newfound love, all while discovering the beauty of embracing her true self.

TW: weed, smut,fluff

Y/N Y/L/N had always been Natasha Romanoff's shadow, the embodiment of the perfect little sister who never dared to step out of line. She admired Natasha's strength and determination, and she yearned to be just as impressive. For years, she'd followed Natasha's lead, absorbing every lesson and advice with an eagerness to please.

But when the enigmatic Maximoff twins, Pietro and Wanda, joined the Avengers, everything changed. Y/N's focus shifted from trying to emulate Natasha to the sassy and intriguing Wanda Maximoff. Their shared training sessions turned into opportunities for banter and laughter, with Wanda constantly poking fun at Y/N's impeccable behavior.

One sunny afternoon, Wanda pulled out a joint, the pungent scent of weed filling the air. She grinned at Y/N mischievously. "Come on, Y/N. Ever tried something a bit wild?"

Y/N hesitated, her eyes flickering between the joint and Wanda. She felt a flutter of nerves in her stomach. "I, uh, I've never..."

Wanda chuckled. "Don't worry, it's legal here in New York. A little harmless fun won't hurt."

Emboldened by the thought of proving herself, Y/N took the joint from Wanda's hand. With an awkward smile, she took a small drag, coughing as the smoke tickled her throat. Soon enough, giggles escaped her lips as the effects of the weed took hold.

Wanda laughed at Y/N's reaction. "See? Not so uptight after all, huh?"

The two stumbled into the Avengers' kitchen, raiding the cabinets for snacks with a newfound sense of camaraderie. But their lighthearted moment was short-lived when Natasha walked in, raising an eyebrow at the scene.

Wanda waved casually. "Hey, Nat. Just getting some munchies."

Natasha's gaze narrowed as she surveyed the situation. She shot a pointed look at Y/N. "Y/N, mind explaining this?"

Y/N's giggles were uncontainable, making it difficult for her to form coherent sentences. She turned to Natasha with a dopey grin. "Wanda offered... and I thought... I should... try..."

Natasha's lips twitched, a mix of amusement and disbelief evident on her face. She stepped closer to Y/N, cupping her cheeks gently. "Oh, Y/N. You really have gotten yourself into a mess, haven't you?"

Y/N's eyes widened as her senses cleared a bit. She glanced between Natasha and Wanda, her cheeks flushing. "I... uh..."

Natasha's gaze turned serious as she turned her attention to Wanda. "You know you're being a bad influence, right?"

Wanda rolled her eyes playfully. "Come on, Natasha. We're just having some fun."

Natasha sighed, her lips quirking into a half-smile. "Fine. But don't let this rub off on Y/N too much."

As Natasha led Y/N away, Y/N couldn't help but glance back at Wanda, a mixture of exhilaration and uncertainty bubbling within her.

In Natasha's room, Y/N's giggles hadn't stopped, and her thoughts were consumed by Wanda's beauty and badassery. Natasha looked at Y/N, a knowing smile playing on her lips. "Having fun, Y/N?"

Y/N burst into more giggles, her cheeks flushed. "Nat, you don't even know. Wanda's so pretty and so cool, like, I can't even..."

Natasha raised an eyebrow, a playful glint in her eyes. "Is there something you're not telling me, Y/N?"

Y/N's giggles turned into a fit of laughter. She shook her head, trying to compose herself. "No, no, it's not like that. I mean, I admire her, she's just... really awesome."

Natasha leaned against the wall, her arms crossed. "Uh-huh. Are you sure you don't have a little crush on her?"

Y/N's eyes widened, and she erupted into another bout of giggles. She tried to sound serious between laughs. "Nat, come on, I don't have a crush on her. I mean, she's amazing, but..."

Natasha chuckled, her laughter echoing in the room. "You're terrible at being subtle, you know that?"

Y/N's laughter finally subsided, and she gave in, her face turning redder. "Okay, fine, maybe a little crush. But don't tell anyone!"

Natasha laughed, her teasing tone gentle. "Don't worry, Y/N. Your secret's safe with me."

As Natasha's laughter mingled with Y/N's, a deeper bond formed between the sisters, one that was strengthened by shared moments, laughter, and a hint of harmless teasing. It was a day Y/N would never forget, where she let loose and allowed herself to explore new connections, even if it meant giggling about crushes with her sister.

The next morning, Y/N woke up early, ready for another intense training session. Natasha was already in the training area, and they worked together for hours, pushing each other to their limits. They finished with a grueling 10-kilometer run, their breaths heavy as they entered the gym.

As they walked in, they spotted Wanda, who seemed to have just arrived. She was in the middle of stretching, her eyes narrowing slightly as they landed on Y/N. Natasha couldn't help but notice the not-so-friendly look Wanda gave Y/N, almost as if she was checking her out.

Taking a sip of water, Natasha shot a knowing glance between Y/N and Wanda. Y/N, seemingly unaware of Wanda's scrutiny, smiled and approached her. "Hey, Wanda! Ready for another round of training?"

Wanda blinked, a bit taken aback. "Wait, didn't you just train from 5 AM to 8 AM?"

Y/N and Natasha exchanged a glance before chuckling. "Yeah, we did. But it's no big deal for us," Y/N said casually.

Wanda raised an eyebrow, clearly impressed. "Seriously? How do you have the energy for that?"

Y/N's playful side got the better of her as she grinned at Wanda, leaning in slightly. "You could say I'm just insatiable."

Wanda's eyes widened, and a flush spread across her cheeks as she looked at Natasha. Natasha burst into laughter, unable to contain herself, and walked away to the other part of the gym, leaving Y/N and Wanda standing there.

Embarrassed, Wanda cleared her throat and averted her gaze. "Right, well... I guess I have a lot to learn from you guys."

Y/N, now realizing what she had said, felt a warmth creeping up her own cheeks. She tried to backtrack, her tone more flustered than she intended. "Oh, uh, I didn't mean it that way. I just meant... you know... in terms of training."

Wanda's smirk was both teasing and amused. "Sure, sure, Y/N. We'll just leave it at that."

As Natasha watched from a distance, she couldn't help but enjoy the interaction between Y/N and Wanda. It was clear that there was some chemistry, even if it had started with an accidental flirtatious comment. She knew Y/N well, and she could see that her sister was growing more comfortable in her own skin, even if it sometimes led to amusingly awkward moments.

And as Y/N and Wanda continued their training, bantering and laughing, Natasha couldn't help but feel a sense of pride and affection for her little sister. She knew that Y/N was slowly coming into her own, forging her own connections and friendships, and discovering that she didn't always have to be the perfect golden sister. It was a step towards independence, and Natasha was there to watch and support every awkward, endearing moment.

After the training and banter-filled morning, Y/N returned to her room, deciding to take a refreshing shower to unwind. Wrapped in a towel and with damp hair, she stepped out of the bathroom, only to freeze in her tracks as her gaze landed on Wanda, who was sitting on her bed. The towel slipped slightly, and Y/N squeaked, immediately clutching the towel to her chest in embarrassment.

Wanda's eyes widened as she turned towards Y/N. "Oh my god, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to invade your space like this!"

Y/N's cheeks turned a deep shade of crimson as she hurriedly wrapped the towel around herself, her heart racing. "No, no, it's okay! I should have knocked or something."

Wanda looked away, her own cheeks flushing. "Yeah, I should have waited outside or something."

Y/N quickly grabbed some clothes, turning her back to Wanda to change. Once dressed, she nervously approached the bed and took a seat beside Wanda. "So, uh, what brings you to my room?"

Wanda grinned mischievously and pulled out a blunt, waving it casually. Y/N's eyes widened in both surprise and curiosity. She gave a nervous smile, knowing that this time Natasha wouldn't be there to keep her from getting carried away.

Wanda noticed Y/N's hesitance and shrugged. "You don't have to if you don't want to."

Y/N shook her head, summoning her courage. "No, I want to. It's just... I've never really done this before."

They lit up the blunt, taking slow drags as the room filled with a fragrant haze. In the midst of the smoking, Wanda glanced at Y/N and patted her lap. "Hey, ever done a shotgun before?"

Y/N's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "Shotgun? What's that?"

Wanda smirked playfully. "I'll show you. Come sit on my lap."

Y/N's heart skipped a beat, but curiosity got the better of her. She cautiously moved to sit on Wanda's lap, looking a little bewildered. "Okay, now what?"

Wanda took another drag from the blunt, then held it close to Y/N's lips. "Now, when I blow the smoke out, you'll inhale. It's called a shotgun."

As Wanda exhaled, Y/N instinctively inhaled the smoke. When they pulled back, Y/N was left in a dazed state, her thoughts scattered and her heart racing. She stammered, "W-What was that?"

Wanda chuckled, a playful glint in her eyes. "Just a shotgun. You okay, Y/N?"

Y/N's cheeks were tinted pink as she fumbled for words. "I-I... yeah, I think so. That was... unexpected."

Wanda's smirk grew more pronounced, and she teasingly tugged at the hem of Y/N's shirt. "Well, it's a new experience, right?"

Y/N's attempts at being coherent failed as she babbled, her words tripping over each other. "Uh, yeah, totally. Unexpected, but... um, yeah."

Wanda's laughter was soft and genuine as she gently patted Y/N's shoulder. "Relax, Y/N. It's all in good fun. If you're ever uncomfortable, just let me know."

As the effects of the smoke settled in, Y/N found herself leaning into Wanda's warmth, feeling a newfound connection that went beyond training and awkward encounters. In that moment, she was reminded that life was meant to be explored, even if it led to giggles, flustered moments, and unexpected experiences.

With the room bathed in a hazy glow, Y/N mustered the courage to engage in more conversation. "So, Wanda, what made you drop by my room today?"

Wanda leaned back, taking a contemplative drag from the blunt before exhaling slowly. "Honestly, I wanted to spend some time away from all the chaos. Being an Avenger can get overwhelming."

Y/N nodded in understanding. "Yeah, I get that. It's nice to have a space where you can just unwind and be yourself."

Wanda's gaze softened, and she looked at Y/N with a hint of gratitude. "You know, you're not what I expected at first. I thought you'd be all serious and uptight, just like your sister."

Y/N chuckled, a playful gleam in her eyes. "Well, believe it or not, I have my moments of rebellion."

Wanda raised an eyebrow, her interest piqued. "Is that so?"

Y/N's smile turned into a mischievous grin. "Let's just say, there's more to me than meets the eye."

Wanda's lips curled into a teasing smile. "Oh, really? So, you're not always the perfect little sister?"

Y/N winked, her demeanor growing more confident. "Let's just say, there's a side of me that likes to break the rules now and then."

Wanda leaned in slightly, her voice taking on a flirtatious edge. "I have to say, Y/N, the rebellious side suits you."

Y/N's heart fluttered at Wanda's comment, and she playfully nudged Wanda's shoulder. "Oh, really? You're not just saying that?"

Wanda's gaze locked with Y/N's, a hint of intensity in her eyes. "No, I'm definitely not just saying that."

The air between them grew charged, the room filled with the lingering smoke and an undeniable tension. Y/N found herself drawn to Wanda's confidence and the way she seemed to see through her perfect facade. It was a side of herself she rarely showed, and Wanda's presence was bringing it to the surface, making her feel more alive than ever before.

Wanda puts out the blunt and lets the ashtray down on the ground , then she takes Y/N by surprise cupping her cheeks and kissing her. The more their lips moved in perfect rhythm the more heated it got.

Wanda got on top of Y/N and helped her pull off her shirt."Is that okay?"She asks and Y/N nodded quickly.

"I trust you Wands"Y/N said and Wanda smiled genuinely .

She leans down and connects their lips.She bites Y/N's lip, causing the younger girl to gasp which she uses as a chance to slip her tongue into her mouth.Their tongues fight for dominance and Y/N quickly let her win knowing she had no chance against her.Her hands move down and she unclasped her bra then pulled it off.

She trails her kisses down my jaw to her neck once again softly sucking on her sweet spot putting enough pressure to make it pleasurable and leave plenty of marks decorating Y/N's neck.

She moves down to the younger girls chest and leaves gentle kisses then her tongue swirls around Y/N's nipple and a moan erupts out of Y/N's mouth, closing her eyes in pleasure.Her hand massages her other boob and the moans get louder.

"Wands please.."Y/N mumbles and Wanda bites her nipple gently to which a mixture of a yelp and a moan sounds in the room.

"Patience darling.I want to make your first time perfect."She says and Y/N nods.She makes her way to give the other boob the same treatment only difference being that this time she left a hickey higher up on Y/N's boob."Is that okay?"She asks and Y/N nodded.

"I like it." Y/N says and she smirks nodding.She moves her kisses down the girls toned stomach now and she leaves a hickey right where the waistband of the jeans was.

Her hands move to the zipper and she unzips it and the girl under raises her hips helping her pull the pants and panties down.She kisses her inner thigh and then leaves a hickey there too.

"Wands please.. I can't anymore..",comes out of the girls mouth as a pant and the older one finally gives in.

She lets her tongue circle around her clit and Y/N moans loudly reaching down and holding onto the sheets.One of Wanda's hands moves up to hold one of Y/N's who holds on tightly, moaning and enjoying the new sensation she was experiencing.Wanda teases her entrance with her finger and Y/N bites her lip.

"Tell me if I do something you're not comfortable with."She says and Y/N nods. Wanda's tongue connects back to her clit and she gasps as Wanda's finger moves inside. She gently moves it letting the younger girl get used to the new sensation.

"Faster please"Y/N exclaims and Wanda speeds up curling her finger hitting her g spot making pants and moans of her name slip past Y/N's lips.

"I..Im going to-"Y/N's sentence gets interrupted as pleasure takes over her and Wanda's name is moaned out as she shakes her eyes rolling to the back of her head.

Wanda let's her ride out the orgasm and when she opens her eyes she sees Wanda now above her, she pulls her in kissing her. Wanda kisses back and Y/N moans as she tastes herself on her lips. Y/N tries to pull the red heads shirt off but Wanda holds her hand."What?"Y/N asks and Wanda shakes her head.

"It's about you tonight there is time for that."Wanda says and Y/N's lips form a frown.

"But you need t-"Wanda pecks her lips cutting her off.

"You will pay me back don't worry about that."Wanda says and Y/N plays with her hair.

"Are you sure?"She asks unsurely and Wanda nods.

"Yes котенок."Wanda says and kisses her softly.

"You want to take a shower?"She asks and Y/N nods.

Y/N was in the kitchen, focused on making dinner, her mind far from the events that had transpired earlier. She was chopping vegetables when the sound of footsteps drew her attention. Natasha had returned to the compound, and Y/N's heart skipped a beat at the sight of her sister.

Natasha sauntered into the kitchen with her signature casual grace, a small smirk playing on her lips. "Hey, Y/N. Long day?"

Y/N smiled, grateful for the distraction from her thoughts. "Yeah, training was intense, but it's good to wind down in the kitchen."

As Natasha leaned against the counter, her eyes flickered to Y/N's neck, and her eyebrows shot up in surprise. "What's that on your neck, Y/N? Looks like you got into some trouble."

Y/N's hand flew to her neck as she realized what Natasha was referring to. A blush rushed to her cheeks, and her usually articulate speech faltered into a series of incoherent stammers. "I-It's, uh, nothing, really. Just, um, I bumped into something earlier."

Natasha's expression turned mockingly stern, and she folded her arms across her chest. "Really, Y/N? Because those marks look a lot like something other than a bump."

Y/N's eyes widened in panic, her heart racing. She opened her mouth to respond, but her words seemed to escape her.

Natasha burst into laughter, her stern façade crumbling as she leaned against the counter, her amusement evident. "Oh, Y/N, you're terrible at lying."

Y/N's shoulders sagged in relief, and she chuckled nervously. "I guess I can't really hide anything from you, can I?"

Natasha's laughter subsided, and she stepped closer to Y/N, her expression warm and supportive. "You know, Y/N, I just want you to be happy. Whoever you're with, as long as they treat you well and make you smile, I'm on your side."

Y/N's eyes glistened with gratitude as she met Natasha's gaze. "Thank you, Nat. That means a lot to me."

Just then, the sound of approaching footsteps caught both of their attention. Wanda entered the kitchen, her presence filling the room with a kind of magnetic energy. She wrapped her arms around Y/N from behind, resting her chin on Y/N's shoulder.

Natasha's lips curled into a knowing smile as she observed the scene. "Well, well, seems like someone's been busy."

Wanda smirked playfully, her gaze meeting Natasha's. "Can't deny that."

Y/N's cheeks flushed, but she couldn't suppress her smile. She leaned into Wanda's touch, feeling a sense of contentment and belonging that she hadn't experienced before.

Natasha's gaze softened, and she looked at the two of them with genuine affection. "You two better take good care of each other. Y/N, I expect you to keep Wanda in check."

Y/N chuckled, the tension easing from her shoulders. "Don't worry, Nat. We'll look out for each other."

Natasha's smile widened, and she gave a subtle nod of approval. "Good. Just remember, if anyone hurts you, I won't hesitate to intervene."

Wanda's grip on Y/N tightened, and she pressed a soft kiss to Y/N's temple. "Don't worry, Natasha. I'll make sure she's well taken care of."

As the three of them stood in the kitchen, a sense of understanding and acceptance hung in the air. Y/N realized that while life was full of surprises and challenges, having the support of her sister and the newfound connection with Wanda made everything a little easier to navigate.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff #marvel #mcu #natasha romanoff

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ladyinred2248 · 6 months ago

Text

King of the North, Finan x Reader, Part 5

Warnings: Mature themes. Minors DNI. Angst, Violence, Misogyny.

The grasp of Finan’s hand brought Alfred to his feet, but the King of Wessex was still a weak and trembling mess, caught in the midst of a brutal battle with only Finan to shield him from several Danes who still advanced towards them. Finan moved to avert them at every opportunity they had to seize Alfred, his skillful lunges and quick agility blocking fierce attacks and forcing several of Haestan’s men to the ground. Finan eventually forged his way to a path of safety for the disgraced King as the battle began to die down, the exhaustion evident in both of them.

Alfred looked to Finan, meeting his gaze and giving him a nod, “… Thank you.”

Finan returned his gaze with hooded eyes and furrowed brows, giving him a firm nod as he sheathed his sword.

“W-why?” Alfred muttered, “Why did you prevent my death? Surely you despise me.”

“Oh I do,” Finan chuckled, “But I don’t see an end to this without you in it.”

Alfred bore some semblance of a smile, looking to Finan and chuckling under his breath slightly. “The love of a woman can drive you mad. Or at least, turn you into a fool.”

“Ya don’t have to tell me, Lord King. I know this very well.” Finan smiled.

Suddenly, Finan heard Uhtred’s voice shouting from a distance.

“They’re retreating to the forest! Stop them!!”

Domnal strode over quickly and came to stand at Finan’s side, his eyes searching Finan’s for his next command and his mind reeling with shock as he had only moments ago witnessed Finan save Alfred’s life.

“My King, he… he shall be spared? I don’t understand.”

Finan put his hand on Domnal’s shoulder, speaking sternly to him, “He shall be spared. He is the great King of Wessex,” Finan said, “…and his reign will continue, for the sake of England.”

Domnal narrowed his eyes at Finan, simply perplexed that Finan had allowed Alfred to survive. After a moment, Finan’s gaze came to rest on the entry to the forest and of Uhtred and the others chasing the remaining Danes into the trees. His eyes searched for Haestan, who he knew couldn’t have made it far after receiving the devastating blow to his shoulder, but he was nowhere to be found. As the battle settled at the encampment and some of Uhtred’s men returned, the surviving Danes having escaped, Finan looked for you. His heart started racing, his strides growing quicker as he looked in each tent, Domnal following close behind and searching to no avail.

“I told you to keep her safe.” He muttered to Domnal in fury, meeting his gaze with such darkness and disdain that Domnal felt as if he was next to receive Finan’s brutality. Finan groaned angrily, still pulling back flaps of tent entrances and stopping to gaze around the encampment.

“Your Grace, she.. she was just here, with several Guardsmen.”

Finan scoffed at Domnal, cursing himself for leaving you with simple guardsmen to defend you.

Finan stopped to listen to his surroundings, a deafening silence among the several dead bodies on the ground, until Finan heard you scream his name.

Your guardsmen had been disarmed, and a fierce Dane had brutally smacked you across the face hard enough to force you down, now holding you by your hair and dragging you across the ground. The Dane brought you up to standing just as Finan and Domnal rounded the corner of trees swiftly, their eyes widening at the sight. The Dane was stunned by their now looming presence, and he brought his seax up to your throat as Finan held his hands out with wide eyes, pleading with him as he slowly stepped closer.

“Please,” he begged, his eyes showing gentleness now, “She is my betrothed. Please, have mercy on her.”

The Dane chuckled darkly, muttering a string of words with dark, misogynistic connotations until he was suddenly knocked across the head with a plank of wood from behind, falling to the ground and seemingly out cold from the blow.

Finan looked over your shoulder to see Alfred, trembling as he held the large wooden plank he had used to subdue the Dane.

Finan exhaled in relief and ran to you, taking you up into his arms and squeezing you until you felt like you couldn’t breathe.

“The battlefield is no place for ya, lady,” He rasped, “Oh dear God… Thank God.”

Finan looked up to see Alfred staring at the two of you, trembling and tears in his eyes. Alfred held Finan’s gaze and gave him a stern nod, Finan’s gentle eyes showing him a deep wave of gratitude.

Finan held you in his arms tightly as he sat you upon the ground, your face nuzzled into his neck. A faint rustling sound caught your ear, and Finan noticed it as well, looking in your eyes for a moment before he stood, searching the distance for the sound. He heard Domnal shout from a afar, and instantaneously he saw men with horses approaching in the distance. But they weren’t Danes… they were Saxons.

“Your Grace!” Domnal shouted urgently, “it’s the Mercians!”

Finan met Alfred’s gaze again, who gave him a look of pride as his daughter’s fyrd emerged from the forest, easily twice the amount of men as the Scots-Irish warriors Finan and Domnal commanded. At this moment, Finan felt so hopelessly tired. Tired of running, tired of political pressure and brutal killings, and tired of the love of his life consistently being placed in harm’s way. He nodded to Alfred, a gesture of accepting his fate as the men of the fyrd came closer, led by a looming and steadfast figure. Domnal thought he must have seen a ghost.

“Lord King!!!” Steapa beckoned from a distance as the men on their horses drew closer, surrounding the encampment now as Uhtred and his men walked closer to join with Finan and Domnal.

Finan turned to Uhtred, biting his lip and nodding to him as they spoke with their eyes. Uhtred embraced Finan, giving him a firm hug before placing his forehead to Finan’s, tears evident in his eyes but not yet falling. Steapa dismounted his horse, coming over to tend to the defeated and sickly looking King Alfred.

Domnal drew his sword again, meeting Finan’s gaze as he did so, and Finan shook his head, giving him one last command. “Stand down.”

You had barely regained your senses at this moment, time moving slowly now as if you had surely been knocked into another realm of existence. You stood gazing at Steapa and the fyrd, all of them surrounding you now and tending to their King, who they then gestured away quickly. You looked to Finan, who gave you a stern look with furrowed brows before cupping your face in his hands once again.

“My sweet angel,” he started, his hooded eyes becoming gentle again, “I love you… I have loved you ever since the day we met. I will fight for you in the next life and beyond,” Finan choked up and held back a sob, “I… I will always love you.”

Steapa and the others came to surround you both, giving you no time to think or digest the gravity of the situation.

“No,” you muttered, looking at Steapa and the others now as they circled, “N-no! Please!” You grabbed Finan’s hands, holding them impossibly tight before pressing your forehead to his, “We… we are to be married, Finan…you will not leave me now. You promised you would never leave me again.”

Finan held your gaze with a deep sadness in his eyes as he stepped back from you, his hands coming up in surrender, before being knocked to his knees, his hands swiftly tied and bound by Steapa and eventually lifted brutally to stand. Domnal was also detained brutally, but he held resistance that Finan did not, and was punched in the stomach multiple times to coerce his compliance.

You ran to Uhtred, pleading with him and seemingly mad with your words.

“Uhtred!! Stop this! Stop this now!!”

Uhtred looked at you with sympathetic, sad eyes, holding your arms gently. You then ran to Sihtric and Osferth, who were both giving you the same sad gaze, and you pleaded with Sihtric then, sobbing into his shoulder as he wrapped his arms around you.

“Please, please help him… Sihtric!!” you grabbed Sihtric’s armor, shoving and hitting him in your desperate rage, until he had to grab your arms firmly and pin them against you. You exhausted yourself of your efforts, and Sihtric pulled you close, holding you against him and cupping his hand on the back of your head as he looked to Uhtred.

“Lord,” Osferth spoke, “There must be a way. Finan has served his Kingdom, we all have. He saved the King’s life on the battlefield.”

Uhtred sighed, watching as the Mercians made preparation in the distance, “He is an enemy of the Crown.”

Osferth scoffed, walking away from them in a fit of rage.

Sihtric was still holding you tightly as you sobbed into his shoulder relentlessly, and Uhtred came over to put his hand on your back, feeling it rise and fall with every desperate cry.

“We follow,” Uhtred commanded, “We see this through until the very end.”

>>> Part 6

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#the last kingdom #finan the agile #finan tlk #tlk fandom #the last kingdom finan #tlk fanfic #finan tlk fanfic #finan x reader

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