#and i doubt i would notice the title one honestly

[mayullla]

A little present event: fem reader 🦋 + yandere Al Haitham 🌺 🥺

Title: Learning to love

Character(s): Al Haitham (Genshin Impact) Summary: He offered a proposal, a trial of sorts to see if you and him were really a match. Warnings/tags: Yandere themes, fem!reader, soulmates au, toxic relationship, manipulation

The continuation to: The Akasha's choosing [ - A little present~! Event - Closed - ]

You bit your lip when you saw Al Haitham waiting for you outside your small humble home again seated on one of the outdoor stools. "You are awake. I thought you would sleep a little more considering how tired you were last night from getting lost in the forest."

"Thank... thank you for finding me back then..." You looked down, it was because of him that you were able to find your way back home. But it was him that you were running away from that you winded up there. You know it was much, if anyone knew that someone was trying to avoid them this much to the point they would become lost... it would hurt the person. Yet you could not help yourself.

These feelings inside yourself felt like they were twisting your stomach yet you just can't push it down.

"Hmmm. Well, you don't have to worry about that though you should really consider other ways to avoid me."

You flinched at his words, feeling your heart rate speed up as you looked away guilty.

"I notice a long time ago that you were avoiding me, heading out so early in the morning when you usually stay in bed a little more in the past." Al Haitham looked at you from his book, waiting to see if you have something to say before continuing "I am guessing you are not really fond of this idea of soulmates. That you are acting like this? Personally, I think I would be much better if you were to say outright say that you hate me rather than run away constantly like this."

"I-I don't!"

"Then why are you avoiding me?"

"I really don't... I just don't think that uhh... you and me are meant for each other." You sighed finally admitting to why you have been acting like this for a long time. "That there might be a mistake in the Akasha... I just don't think we are compatible. I am sorry... I should have told you that sooner."

You glanced at Al Haithams face wondering how he would react before looking down again in guilt. You didn't know how to bring the subject up and had avoided it for the longest time. In all honestly you were intimidated by him.

"So you are saying that the Akasha had made a mistake?" Al Haitham asked closing his book. "Are you sure? I don't think most people if any would take too kindly to what you said especially the sages." You flinched again suddenly realizing what you were implying. That the akasha that was created by the past dendro archon, which was used by everyone in Sumeru had made a mistake. You wanted to take your words back, your face flustered as you tried to think of a way to recover from the situation.

Al Haitham watching you sighed, leaning back a little as he stared right at you. "I understand having doubts. Even I wanted to see for myself whether this was just some delusion someone in the academia made yet was accepted by those sages. Those who only rely on the akasha when it is also controlled by mere men are nothing but fools who can't think for themselves."

You found his words harsh but stayed silent.

"Hmmm, how about this. We shall do a little test between us to see if we are compatible or not." You looked at Al Haitham in surprise. What did he mean by that?

Al Haitham shook his head a little a small sigh escaped his lips, raising a hand a little as he started to explain. "While I too am not particularly fond of the idea myself, how about seeing for ourselves whether we are actually compatible or not and stop playing this cat-and-mouse chase that would only lead to nowhere."

"We can do a series of tests for an extended period of time. If we don't think we are compatible we can go our separate ways and forget all this happen. But if we do, we can continue on and see where this takes us."

Your eyes looked at him in surprise, but the more you thought about it the more it made... sense. You could see for yourself if the two of you were actually compatible with each other.

Agreeing to his proposal you could not help but feel a little determined but you could not help but wonder, "But what should we do first?" Much to your embarrassment you never really dated before too focused to take care of yourself and putting food on the table.

"Hmmm just do things that couples do. We could start by *not* avoiding each other and work away from there." You flinched a little at this personal attack, unable to look at him in the eyes again.

But you did see a small smile on his lips.

The two of you started slow, Al Haitham being patient with you as you tried to be less awkward with him on your side. You guys started first by going to the forest when you needed to go there to collect herbs, mushrooms, and berries. With him mainly there to protect you from monsters or eremites and treasure hoarders. Most of the time he was reading a book a little farther than you as you go about collecting.

He tried to offer help to you a bit, but still too awkward you declined telling him that he should instead rest while you do your work. Instead, you had to promise him that you would tell him if you need his help getting something that was too far of reach or dangerous.

A lot of your lunches were spent with him. You now purposefully pack up meals meant for two people rather than one. As you seat in the grass or under a tree or maybe at home when you worked on the small farm you had you would share your meals with Al Haitham. He would eat without saying much, but you did notice he would look a little annoyed when you brought soup and later made sure not to bring them too often. (Al Haitham also offered to pack or buy lunches every so often to be fair, and when you first time you tried his cooking you could not help but be surprised. It was good!)

You didn't go out in public much with him since both of you did not want the attention of others. And when you did most of the academia students would stare in shock unable to understand that the famed scribe had a partner while others cooed at how cute of a couple you guys were.

An old granny had called the two of you cute when you were out picking groceries with Al Haitham right beside you examining the vegetables as he too needed to stock some food in his own home. You were flustered at her words, wanting to deny that you were a couple but with a glance that Al Haitham gave you, no words came out of your mouth as you tried to smile.

You thanked the grandmother for her words.

Next were small touches and kisses, your face was never this hot till when Al Haitham told you to kiss him. You were embarrassed when he started grabbing your hand or placing a hand on your shoulder but you stifled all your complaints as you told yourself this was a trial and that it was fine. But you still could not help yourself but become nervous as you stare at his face after what he said.

Al Haitham was always patient with you, and if you didn't want to do this you were sure that he would be fine with it. But seeing that he was trying, you would feel guilty if you were to say no now.

You looked at Al Haitham's face an eyebrow raised waiting before he asked if you do not want to do it. You shook your head telling him it was fine. He always reminded you that both sides needed to put in the effort, and you knew he did. So you must... it was just a small kiss really.

He waited for you, made no movements to take the lead in the kiss, and left you to do it as you took small hesitant steps toward him shyly. With Al Haitham sitting down you were forced to lean towards him as you close your eyes unable to stare to look into his face in such a close distance. You didn't see his reaction back then as you quickly kissed and then turned your back from him unable to look at him.

What was a small peck on the lips soon spiraled from there. Moving too fast you thought to yourself, as if whatever wall that you thought was there between you and him was never there from the start. But you thought that it was fine, that this was just a test to see if you were compatible. As you forced yourself to get used to the thankfully rare kisses that Al Haitham would make. But more often than not you were forced to sit on his lap or he would lie on yours as you both either nap, read a book, or finish an essay for his case.

There were some days he would stay at your place, stating that he was too "lazy" to go back home when he was tired and told you to think of this like another test. He didn't like it when you offered to sleep on the sofa scooping you and tossing you on the bed with a hand on your waist to prevent you from leaving the bed stating that this would be the most comfortable way to sleep at a single person bed, pulling you closer to him. You felt it was too intimate but didn't voice your thoughts when you heard his small snores already fallen deep asleep.

Whatever you tried to make space between you and him on the bed whenever he decided that he would stay for the night would quickly be gone as you would find him always holding you tight in his arms the moment you wake up almost like a stuffed toy that a kid liked.

You kept repeating to yourself that this was a trial if you were compatible and if things just did not work out that everything would just work out as you two separate unknown to you that Al Haitham was still awake looking down at your hair, his arms tightening around you.

To him, this was never a trial, but you were just too precious after all as he let you think as you please. He knew that you were never comfortable with his affections. But he knew you would get used to it. He would not let you go even if you didn't. You would get used to his touch, the idea of him by your side, he would make you get used to him and let him mold you to love him just as much that anxiety would drive you insane when he is not around.

He would never let you go.

#yandere genshin #yandere al haitham #yandere writing #yandere scenario #yandere imagine #yandere x reader #yandere x you #tw yandere #al haitham x you #genshin x you #al haitam x reader #genshin imagine #yandere al haitham x reader #yandere genshin imagines #genshin writing #genshin scenario #genshin imapct #genshin x y/n #genshin x reader #genshin drabble

[travellingarmy]

✩̣̣̣̣̣ͯ┄•͙✧⃝•͙┄✩ͯ•͙͙✧⃝•͙͙✩ͯ✩̣̣̣̣̣ͯ┄•͙✧⃝•͙┄✩ͯ•͙͙✧⃝•͙͙✩ͯ┄•͙✩̣̣̣̣̣ͯ┄•͙✧⃝•͙┄✩ͯ•͙͙

✦❘༻𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍 𝙼𝚢 𝙷𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚝༺❘✦

Ch. 1 - The Beginning of an End

Malleus Draconia x fem!reader

Chapter list + Summary

[Next]

Do not steal/copy + paste my works and upload it anywhere else.

⊰♤⊱⊰◇⊱⊰♡⊱⊰☆⊱⊰♧⊱⊰♤⊱⊰◇⊱⊰♡⊱⊰☆⊱⊰♧⊱

He didn’t come to the room last night either..

It’s been six days— yes, just six— since you last saw your husband. Although to you, it felt like it was more than that. No, he hasn’t gone off to anywhere else in this godforsaken world, he’s just.. Well, somewhere in this large castle. You heaved a weak sigh as one single thought came to your head: Malleus Draconia.. Your heart thumps just a tad bit faster. Even without knowing who he was, just the name alone sounds frightening. Fortunately and unfortunately, you were well acquainted with that name and have had many yet brief conversations. 

He was the prince of the Valley of Thorns, the only successor to the throne but most importantly, he was none other than.. “My husband..” You muttered underneath your breath. The clicking of the heels abruptly stop as you shudder on the spot at that name. 

It was honestly unbelievable how you went from a lowly daughter of a combat baron (the lowest rank in nobility) to be the wife of a prince, essentially making you a princess. 

Nevertheless, whether you are now a princess of a very powerful kingdom, your relationship with your husband was essentially.. Nonexistent. Well, other than mere business relationships you both have. In fact, it was strictly business that he did not show up in the chambers the night of your wedding. You can’t fault him, however, since you did not want to be wedded to him either. He must be disgusted with me.. You believed that to be true since once again, you were just a baron’s daughter with probably below average looks. Rarely had noble men would throw themself at you willingly.

Whatever, you should not let those thoughts get into your head and get you into low spirits. You had a history lesson to catch and that’s what you should be focusing on right now. What has been done is done and you can’t sulk about your nonexistent love life and your continued nonexistent relationship with Malleus. 

You sigh and continue in your steps. Looking at the decorated walls of the castle, you would occasionally find portraits. Of whom? You could only presume that it was none other than the royal family and those who came before. There weren’t many new faces within these paintings, that much you noticed. No doubt in your mind that it’s because despite the kingdom being around for so long, they have only a few monarchs because one monarch could reign for centuries on the throne. 

You tried looking for your husband’s portraits but so far, you’ve only managed to find two: one was a stand-alone painting and the other was with his grandmother. In neither portrait was he smiling. Now thinking about it, you don’t recall him smiling on your wedding day too.. Just how cold is this guy? You had a pensive look, bringing a finger to your chin. He doesn’t meet me in the room and he doesn’t even smile.. Is he aloof to everyone around him? You were now doubting if he’d be fit to be king in the future. 

Ah. You probably shouldn’t be thinking that way of your husband. If he knew, you’d most likely be stripped of your title as princess and sent back home where you’ll most likely have to face Her Majesty in the queen’s court back home. “Heh.. I don’t want that..” You itch your cheek, sweat dropping at the mere thought. You've only met her once— when she was congratulating you on your marriage— and just as the rumours had said, she was beautiful, yet held a menacing aura of authority. But I guess that’s normal if she’s queen..

“Princess.” Snapping you out of your continued, meaningless thoughts, a voice from just further down the hall had caught you off guard. You look ahead and see that one of the doors had opened and that somebody was standing there, most of their body seen and what could not be was hidden by the large, oak door. “I had been waiting a while for you. Don’t you understand that my time is precious to be on wait for you?” The person— er, fae— was wearing glasses and had her hair up in a tight bun. Her outfit was almost like that of a butler’s, having a tailcoat, but instead of uniformed pants, it was a pencil skirt. She had an air of authority and seemed to always look down on you. 

“Tch. You humans really are so clueless..” She mumbles under her breath and from the distance you were in, you couldn’t hear her. However, you did see the sharp look of disdain on her face before telling you to hurry up and to get inside the library. It was where you had your history lessons after all. 

“Honestly, what do you take us for?” She speaks her mind once you sit down on your seat across from her. “You will be at the prince’s side; instead of daydreaming, learn about this country’s history and its citizens, will you?” She snaps and slams a heavy book on the table in front of you. You stiffened, heart beating fast at the fright. “Sorry, but I’m only late by 3 minutes..” You sweat dropped at her angry, wide arm gestures as you defend yourself. 

“THREE!? My time is precious. How many—“ At that moment, you learned to tune her out once you’ve ascertained she was going to go on and rant to your face. Since day one, you’ve established that she didn’t like you very much despite you trying your best to be polite and flatter her. She would nitpick every little mistake she had seen in you even though she wasn’t an etiquette teacher. When she does, she’d talk for hours, essentially wasting time that could have been spent on learning. On a good day, she will glare daggers at you and then continue on with the lecture or rant for half an hour.. 

That’s the thing. There was never a good day for her. 

At this point, it was best to drop the flowery words saved for her and just let her rant endlessly. 

—

“Will the prince be joining for dinner today?” You ask to no one in particular, letting either of these maids stationed in the dining hall answer. When there wasn’t an answer, you assumed that it was a no and that they had decided to not answer to the likes of you whenever you asked. You wanted to sigh, honestly, at the lack of a response. 

So there you were, only hearing the sound of your own cutlery as you took small bites of your meal. It wasn’t because you weren’t hungry, but you were sure that these maids will have something to gossip about in scorn later should you make an error. Even if you were new to the country and their customs may be different, you were well learned to know that servants shouldn’t be treating someone of status, especially such as yourself, in such a manner. Alas, you could only resign yourself to just let bygones be bygones. 

If you were to scold them, your name will surely be the talk amongst nobles for a long while, most likely saying how you will be a spiteful queen. Your reputation would only go from bad to worse, seeing as a ‘mere’ human is lecturing creatures like them. 

You kind of miss your home and your father.. Even if it was just you two left, everyday was a cherishable time. Even with these short days that felt like that’s been dragging its seconds a bit too long, you find yourself reminiscing the life you left behind a little bit too much despite only having gone to your new forever home just short of a few days ago. 

… “I’ll be going to my room now.” You dab your mouth with a cloth napkin just in case you had any of the dinner smeared on your face and stood up. Whatever was left of your dinner was promptly cleaned off the table and thrown into the bin. 

I could really use a warm bath today.. You walked the somewhat familiar halls thinking to yourself. Today felt eventful even though the most stressful thing was only dealing with these gossiping faes and the headache they give you. You were excited to dip yourself in a warm tub full of nice smelling body oil and stay in there until the water got cold. Even without anyone being there, a smile forms on your lips with an almost quiet giggle. 

—

“Kufufu, are you sure this is what you’ve decided on doing?” Unbeknownst to you, crimson-coloured eyes bore into your figure. It was dark, that much was true since it was way past the time for the sun to be out, but the moon could outline the silhouette of a man. The only thing that could be comparable to the moon’s light at that moment were the strikingly deep colour of his eyes that illuminated even more in the dark. He stares at you from another window on a higher floor just across yours, breaking out in a smile and a light chuckle. The only thing keeping you two apart other than those walls and windows was the courtyard built in between. “She’s quite cute. I’d hate to leave such a pretty thing alone for so long without her husband.” 

Those same focused eyes break away from your form after speaking to a much taller man beside him that had piercing green eyes that outshined the moon— much like the prior’s. He says nothing to the short male but continues to stare at you. “Hmm, now that I think about it, she’s around Silver’s age, yes?” The shorter one continued on talking, putting a finger on his chin. “Don’t you think they’d be good friends?” 

The one who he was talking to seems to be ignoring him and poor he who has come to a conclusion that his companion is off in his thoughts to be paying attention to him. He sighs. “It’s been almost a week since she’s last seen and talked to you,” he points out carefully, doing a gesture as if he was shrugging but his arms stayed hovering in the air for a bit before dropping it completely to his side, “I know humans have a short lifespan, unlike our kind, but I do not believe that you’ll be able to go all her life not speaking to her just as you had planned. It would do no good to the plan of strengthening our relations with the humans.”

“She’s afraid of me.” At last, his tall companion speaks. “The first meeting.. And the day of the wedding.. When she looked at me, I saw fear in her eyes.”

Again, the short man sighs. “That is to be expected, Malleus. She is, after all, a human. You know how they are– they fear things that are unknown to them but if you’d just try, I’m sure she’ll warm up to you in no time–”

“But what if she doesn’t?” The prince finally tears his eyes away from you. “Lilia, are you certain that she’ll be fine having me as her husband?” He narrows his eyes, a bit of uncertainty was read in them. 

The male could only smile at him. “Do you trust me?” was all he asked, though cryptically. However, that was enough for Malleus to return his gaze, watching you disappear to your shared bedroom. Something swells in his heart, yet he does not know what. 

Once the door closes with a soft thud, he stands there for a while, silently watching at the door where you had just disappeared. He was often silent and staring off into the distance, but that didn’t mean his head was merely filled with air. Just a moment earlier, his heart smiled a bit when he saw the small smile on your lips, happy to think that you might be finding life at the Valley not too hard. 

Only when coming to a silent agreement made in his head, does he now turn his back away from the window. His robe flutters behind him, the sound of it heavy and rich, perfectly displaying his wealth. He walks deeper into the shadows– the unlit parts of the castle that the moon could not reach– and then promptly disappears with only the clacking of his heels making presence. 

Lilia stands by the window, watching as the young prince vanishes from his sight. He looks back at the hall you walked and the door you closed. A smile crosses his lips once more. His eyes became soft at a thought that will not be shared with anyone and for him to simply dwell on it. 

Now alone, he takes a deep breath in and breathing out of his mouth, his heart feeling lighter. He closes his eyes. “Oh my, it seems that age is catching up with me, kufufu,” he softly mutters, still smiling. He takes a bit of time for himself on this serene night before opening his eyes again. The small, yet meaningful smile warps to that of a big one with his eyes lighting up. Suddenly, the visage of a parent disappears from him entirely. 

He turns smoothly on his heels, heading to the same direction where Malleus had gone off too. “Ah, where is Silver? That boy, I hope he hasn’t fallen asleep somewhere unsafe..” With a merry smile, he leaves his spot from the window. 

⊰♤⊱⊰◇⊱⊰♡⊱⊰☆⊱⊰♧⊱⊰♤⊱⊰◇⊱⊰♡⊱⊰☆⊱⊰♧⊱

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✩̣̣̣̣̣ͯ┄•͙✧⃝•͙┄✩ͯ•͙͙✧⃝•͙͙✩ͯ✩̣̣̣̣̣ͯ┄•͙✧⃝•͙┄✩ͯ•͙͙✧⃝•͙͙✩ͯ┄•͙✩̣̣̣̣̣ͯ┄•͙✧⃝•͙┄✩ͯ•͙͙

#twisted wonderland x reader angst #twst x reader #yandere twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland imagines #twisted wonderland x reader #yandere twisted wonderland #twst malleus x reader #yandere malleus x reader #yandere malleus draconia #malleus draconia #malleus draconia imagine #malleus draconia x reader #malleus draconia x reader smut #yandere malleus #malleus x reader #malleus x reader angst

[plaguechyld]

Heian Omega Muzan with an Alpha husband who spoils him rotten and they have slow, sensual sex since Muzan couldn't sleep. Muzan is begging for a baby in him, which his husband will gladly give him, tears in his eyes as he keeps begging to be bred as his eyes roll into his skull, he's so ethereal, and who are we to deny having our beautiful omega have our babies? He'd look so pretty <3

God yes, he would be so adorable honestly. He’s been so stressed and worried about asking you this because even though you’ve shown him nothing but love there’s still that doubt in his mind that you’ll reject him, not wanting to possibly pass on his sickness to your children. Of course you would never reject him, who would? He’s just too cute lmao

Contains: sub!muzan, dom!reader, omega!muzan, alpha!reader, gentle!reader, human!muzan, mpreg, afab muzan, gn!reader, reader has a dick because of their second gender and not because they’re AMAB, gentle sex, marking, scenting, cunnilingus, husband title is the same thing as when a male is called wife or mother because they birth children

Synopsis: Muzan being unable to sleep from worrying too much about what his mate would say if he asked for children leading to the reader gently fucking him while whispering praise and reassurance in his ear.

Muzan shifted back and forth in bed, feeling antsy and anxious about having children with you. It was something he so desperately craved but there was the overwhelming possibility of rejection. Because of his sickness his heats were irregular, causing him to have hormonal spikes and heavy mold changes at the turn of a dime. He was grateful that you stuck around though, always there to kiss the back of his hand and make him blush brightly.

But now that the two of you were lying in bed for the nth time the familiar urge that was engrained in his biology returned. He nervously pulled at your hand, wanting you to wake up. When you did he subsequently blushed hard and turned away, hiding his face in his long black hair. Your arm wrapped around his waist from behind and your hand laid on his chest, gently stroking it while waking up.

“Muzan? What’s wrong, honey?” You ask him in a somewhat groggy voice while rubbing the sleep from your eyes. The sound of your sleepy voice sent Muzan spiraling further into the pit of primal need and he couldn’t stop himself from turning to face you. He wrapped his legs around one of your own and started grinding on your thigh. Sweet whimpers and moans escaped his lips before he even spoke.

“I can’t sleep.. Y/n, I want to a-ask you something.” He curses himself for his stutter, knowing that it would serve to concern you. You placed a hand on the small of his back while taking notice of the way he was grinding on your thigh. The sweet smell of his arousal reached your nose quite quickly which spurred you to claim your mate again. However you held strong, wanting to know what he had to say.

“Could you, I mean.. Y/n can I have your children? Please?” He blurted out while his cheeks reddened. His normal spunk and attitude was gone, leaving behind a needy mess of an omega. Your eyes widened a fraction as the two of you had never brought up having children in the past. You had always assumed that Muzan didn’t want any and you were perfectly fine with that. But now that he had put his greatest desire out in the open there was no way you would reject him.

You pulled him closer and encouraged his grinding with delivering guidance to his hips. Your face was gentle like usual when you dealt with him and you gave his cheek a soft kiss. He shivered at the closer contact between the two of you and looked at you with hopeful eyes.

“Of course, I would be proud to have children with you, my dear.” You respond with a soft smile tugging at the corners of your lips. He blinks slowly and his hips come to a halt when you answer him in that way. He gives you a big smile and hugs you tightly, his frail arms wrapping around your torso as he buries his face in your neck.

“Thank you.. I love you.” He mumbled, his voice slightly muffled due to the fact he had his mouth pressed against the warm skin of your neck. You smiled and responded with, “I love you too, Muzan.” You moved him so his back was pressed against your front. Your hands found their way to his slim waist and held it, rubbing your thumbs along all that you could reach. When you felt him getting impatient you took that as your sign to remove his white yukata from his warm body. He shivers when the cool air hits his exposed skin but is quickly distracted when you begin laying sweet kisses on the side and back of his neck.

Your hand moves down between his thighs and finds his already slick cunt waiting for your touch. You slowly trace the outer folds of it which causes Muzan to whimper with need. He paws at your hand in a way the silently begs you to get on with it. You don’t indulge your mate’s request quite yet, wanting to take things slowly with him. You spread it open and thumb his clit, causing him to moan and buck into your hand. You slowly trace circles on the sensitive bud while your other hand makes its way to his chest. You squeeze his chest that’s fattened with omega fat and draw a soft moan out of him.

You pull back the hood of his cunt further so you have easier access to his clit. You don’t stop stimulating it until he’s whining desperately and pleading for something more, anything more. So that’s when you pick him up and get him to straddle your face. His legs are quivering from the earlier sensations and he knows that this is going to be so much stronger. He lowers himself onto your face and gasps when your tongue instantly dives straight into his entrance.

He’s quivering and shaking, hands gripping the sheets as you abuse his pussy with so much love. He whines again and again and you know he can’t keep himself upright. So you flip him with a quick motion so he’s laying on his back, legs spread wide for you. You don’t waste another moment and dive right back in, pressing your tongue deeper into his wet cunt. You bump his clit with your nose, eliciting a whine from your mate. You rub circles on his hips as an apology and continue your sensual attack.

“‘M close! Oh ffffuckk… pleasepleasepleaseplease..” He moans and squirms, trying to pull his sensitive pussy away from your prodding tongue but at the same time trying to get more. You don’t stop and lick every bit of fluid that he releases during his orgasm. His back arches and he moans louder than he had all night. You suck on his clit while waiting for him to come down from his high.

You push two of your fingers into his greedy cunt and spread him wide open. He’s trembling yet again as your fingers go past his g-spot and find his a-spot. He’s practically sobbing from pure pleasure now and he squeals when you resume your attack. Your actions result in wet squelching sounds reverberating around the room the two of you are in. He’s panting while hot tears run down his flushed cheeks, hands digging into the sheets with reckless abandon.

It’s not to say you weren’t gentle, no, you were actually extremely gentle with Muzan. He was just so sensitive to everything and as much as he hated being any type of weak, he was weak to you and your touch. He can feel another orgasm building as the warmth in his belly grows.

“Hnghh!~ please I can’t! I can’t take it-“ He’s whining and begging you as your skilled tongue and slender digits drive him to get another orgasm. He drenched your mouth with his release yet again, which you graciously lick from your lips. He’s quivering as he lays down, looking up at you with teary and glassy eyes. Despite how overwhelmed he was only a mere moment ago he’s now waiting in anticipation for you to fill him. His hand goes down to his pussy and spreads it open for you, blushing when you coo at him and kiss his forehead while taking off your own yukata.

He spreads his legs wider at the sight of your hardened cock, whining for you to claim him again. You lean down and kiss him on the lips as you guide your tip against his wet cunt. He moans into your lips, hands grabbing onto your back as you push into his wet heat. His pretty ruby eyes roll back in his head as he accepts you into his body without resistance. When your lips part he’s already blabbering on about how he’s so thankful that you’re going to put a baby in him and how much he wants to feel your love grow inside him.

His words go straight to your dick and encourage you to start moving your hips. You move slowly and delicately, relishing the warmth around you. He clenched around you when your tip brushed against his g-spot then kissed his cervix.

“Good omega, you’re doing so good for me.” You praise him, watching as his back arches into you. His legs are trembling and locked around your waist, not letting you leave. His hands claw at your back as you continue to gently dominate him. With the way that he’s squeezing your cock you know it won’t be long before you cum.

Muzan sobs as you thrust your hips forward into him, savoring the way you were so sweet and gentle with him. His pussy flutters around you, signaling that he’s nearing his third orgasm of the night. He mewls when your dick twitches inside of him, his hands clawing at your back even more now.

“I-inside! Cum in pleasepleasepleaseplease!!” He sobs out, his voice high pitched and wobbly as you make love to him so adoringly. You lean down, trailing your lips along his neck and leaving little red marks that would serve as a reminder to him the next morning. You groan, letting out your own moan as you come, filling your mate’s cunt with your seed. Subsequently Muzan comes at the same time, squirting out his own release and slicking your cock up further. You slowly pull out, watching as your cum drips from his abused cunt.

Well that just won’t do. You take two of your fingers and gather up the leaked seed before stuffing it inside of Muzan’s already full hole. He cries out at the intrusion but calms down just as quickly when you lay next to him. He snuggles up to you, arms wrapped around your body.

“T-thank you.. love you..” He mumbled in a sleepy voice. You smile down at him, brushing your fingers through his hair while kissing his forehead.

“You’re very welcome, my dear. I love you too.”

#demon slayer #sub kny #dom reader #kny #kny smut #sub character #kny x you #sub muzan #n/sfw #sub!muzan #omegaverse #a/b/o #omega muzan #alpha reader #gentle domination #soft dom

[genshingorlsrevengeance]

How would someone like Miko, Ei, and other high ranking officers react to an S/O with a long list of titles like Settra the Imperishable, King of Kings,-

(Genshin Impact) Yae, Ei, Sara, Kokomi, Furina, Jean, and Xianyun's S/O with an absurdly long list of titles

I've been building and painting a lot of Bretonnians lately, so dear readers, you will now become aggressively French.

By the Archons above, nothing was worse to Yae than having to be so serious during a ceremony,

Of all the things she could be doing, literally anything would be better than having to listen to some stuffy noble read their title.

So it was by chance S/O had to be present. She recognized their title was of Fontaine descent.

'The Red Hand of Brionne', 'The Red Duke', Something something Red.

...Wait, their titles were still being read off?!

(Yae) "My goodness, just how many titles with the color red can one have?"

Yae internally sighed as the list kept going. And going. And going.

All the while S/O stood perfectly still and respectful, not even batting an eye at the list of titles that probably would stretch from the top of the shrine all the way to the bottom.

Yae's head looks up to the sky momentarily, wondering how of all the people in the world she could have as a lover, it was the one who had to bore her to tears.

No doubt there were interesting stories of how the titles came to be, but this is not the way she wanted to find out.

And here Yae thought Ei had a lot of names to go by...

(Yae) "...Why is it still going?!"

Ei doesn't react too much at the titles being read off for S/O's form of address at first.

She had to deal with similar situations of people reading off her own titles, so it was only proper etiquette.

"Water-Knight," "The Holder of Secrets", "Keeper of the Way"

(Ei) "...Hm."

It was only now she noticed that the list actually exceeded her own titles.

Which surprised her more than anything.

As far as she knew, S/O was just a mortal. How many feats did they achieve in Fontaine during their short life?

She made a note to ask later, but now the list was starting to become a bit absurd.

...Maybe she should implement a law where only the most notable of titles are read off, because they would actually be here for eternity if this continued.

Sara gets jealous fast.

Not because S/O has more titles than her, she couldn't care less about that.

What really irked her, was they had the gall to own more titles than Her Excellency, the Almighty Narukami Ogosho!

Sara masks her annoyance well as she keeps reading off the list.

Line after line, name after name.

...Okay, who the hell even gave her this list, this was way too many!

(Sara) Leader of battles...? What kind of title even is that?!

She made that comment in her head as she droned on with the names.

With every single title read off, Kokomi's energy drained.

She loved her S/O dearly, but by the Archons, how the heck did they get that many titles while living in Fontaine?!

(Gorou) "Lionheart, The Lionhearted, High Paladin of the Breton Court-!"

As far as she was aware, there wasn't even any Knight Houses like this in Fontaine!

...Then again, this was Fontaine she was talking about. They did have their theatres.

Kokomi doesn't mention anything about their stupidly long list of names until after the formal ceremony.

She drops her head onto their shoulders, sighing loudly.

(Kokomi) "S/O...why did we need to have all your names read out...?"

The AUDACITY S/O had!

To have more titles than HER, FURINA?!

This transgression would never be forgotten!

...But they were some pretty cool names, she did have to admit.

'The Golden Paladin',' 'Lord of the Lance', 'Roi Breton'

(Furina) "Hmph, and where exactly did you acquire such names, S/O? More importantly, how does it nearly rival my own?! Hmph! Perhaps I should read all of mine so that we are on equal footing!"

Honestly, some of those were starting to sound like stage names, which wasn't fair at all!

If they could do that, then so could she!

Needless to say, the ceremony the two were attending dragged on for way too long.

By Barbatos, those were some extra titles.

'The Green Knight', 'Knight of the Glade', 'Heart of the Lion'

Though, she only had a few titles under her own belt, the sheer number S/O had was honestly staggering.

But it was also admirable.

It made her want to keep up, and wondered if she could ever live up to Vanessa, and apparently S/O.

Because at this point she was wandering in her mind, the list was still going, and probably outnumbered Vanessa herself.

(Jean) Well...I suppose we did say we were to refer to all forms of address...Maybe we should revise that.

Xianyun was no stranger to titles.

She did indeed go by many, but S/O seemed to go by even more.

Which both impressed, and honestly annoyed Xianyun.

How did a mortal go by more names than Rex Lapis?!

'The Sacremor', 'The Soul-Killer', 'Duke of Couronne'-

(Xianyun) "One has to wonder why you must have all your names read aloud? We could be doing something much better right now..."

Granted, she did recognize a few of these titles, but that was no reason for dinner to get cold now!

Xinayun pouts, adjusting her glasses as she tries to get comfortable as the reading continued.

One found this situation inane...

#genshin impact imagines #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact headcanons #yae miko x reader #ei x reader #kujou sara x reader #kokomi x reader #furina x reader #jean gunnhildr x reader #xianyun x reader #yae miko #ei raiden #kujou sara #kokomi sangonomiya #furina genshin impact #jean gunnhildr #xianyun genshin

[bokettochild]

Through The Keyhole, See Another Life

Inspired by the giant flannel I've been wearing for the last week and how happy it makes me. This popped into my head at work because of it so.... here you go!

Fandom: Linked Universe

Characters: Time, Legend Four

Words: 1,954

Rating: Gen

Summary: The Chain are visiting the ranch, and while most of the other boys are finishing their chores, Time stumbles across Four introducing Legend to one of his guilty pleasures.

"Four, no." 

Time glances up at the very firm voice echoing down the stairs. He’s not sure if the boys even know he’s come back to the main house yet, not with the guest room being on the backside of the house and unable to see the door and all. Usually, someone would have noticed the sound of the door opening, but all the other boys are outside with Malon, helping with the chores while their smithy and veteran rested inside. 

The battle in his world had been a hard one, and as much as fairies and potions can do, they seemingly can’t prevent Legend’s chronic pain or Four’s migraines, both of which had been worsening for days even before arriving at the ranch. Malon, naturally, had insisted that both boys be allowed to sleep in today, and given they’d still been curled up tight in bed, tense and stressed even while asleep, he’d been inclined to agree.  

It appears they’re awake now though, no doubt having found the breakfast laid just inside the door of their room for them, since no one had known if either would be willing to risk the stairs to find something while the rest of them were outside working. Still, he’d probably better check. He's been a bit worried about the two, and now that Malon has ordered him inside (he honestly wasn’t kicked that hard! The cows are just big!) he has plenty of time on his hands while the rest of his boys finish their assigned chores under his wife’s guidance. 

“Why on earth not?” The smithy’s voice is a bit higher as it trails down the stairs to where he’s shucking off his boots and stretching out his back, feeling every one of his years, even the ones that technically didn’t happen. 

Legend’s sigh is audible even through the floorboards, a soft groan probably accompanying a motion. “Because I don’t want to get in trouble?” 

There’s a part of time that wants to snort at the words; the two heroes sound like children arguing about pulling a prank on their parents, but then the fact that he and Malon would be said parents in that situation hits him and it’s not as funny. Additionally, these are teen heroes, the idea that Legend is wary about it means whatever Four wants to do is either very dumb, very silly, or very dangerous, and he’s not sure which is the worse scenario. 

He moves for the stairs, ears tuned closely to the door above, but feet quiet so they won’t hear him coming. 

“I do this all the time, it’s nice! Come on, you’d love it if you let yourself.” 

Okay then, less a worry, he pauses, listening. They’d probably resent that, but he’s curious now, and still a bit wary. He has to remind himself that Legend and Four are, in fact, two of the more level headed heroes- most of the time. At any rate, they’re usually pretty responsible, so even if he’s more used to Wild and Wind and (Hylia help him) Warriors, he really shouldn’t doubt them so much. 

“Yes,” the bed upstairs creaks, “but you’re you. I’m me. There’s a big difference in how they’d react to you doing this- heck, Twilight would probably think it’s cute from you, and Sky definitely would-” definitely not dangerous then, or risky, or likely to cause damage of any sort “-but it’d be a whole different story with me.” 

“You’re just scared to try.” Four taunts, headache clearly gone. 

The bed creaks, like someone’s flopped on it. “Four, I am in too much pain to sit through Twilight chewing me out for being an ‘asshole’ again.” There’s a tick in the vet’s voice, a small hitch on the offending title. Come to think of it, his pup does tend to call the vet that pretty frequently. 

Four doesn’t pause though, continuing his insistence on...whatever he’s insisting. “Then don’t touch Twilight’s things, he can’t be mad on someone else’s behalf.” 

“He is.” Legend clips back. “frequently.” 

Does his pup really chew the vet out that much? 

“Blame me,” the smithy suggests, off-handed.” 

The bed creaks again, a longer one, most likely as it’s resident shifts to face the smithy. He can imagine the deadpan tired stare and heavy sigh that likely touches their young vet’s face. “That’s the definition of an asshole move.” 

“Then let me say it was my fault.” 

“Again, you’re different. They‘d excuse it from you, but as a person with my own free will, they will blame me for-” 

“Oh stop being a stick-in-the-mud!” Four huffs, petulant almost. He must be in one of his more childish moods, no doubt Red’s fault. It happens from time to time when they’re in a safe place and the smithy isn’t constantly around the other heroes. He didn’t think Legend would be allowed to see it, but maybe he’s wrong about that, because the smithy’s voice definitely has picked up the mannerisms of his more emotional aspect. “Just take this and put it on!” 

Are they....is Four trying to get Legend to play dress up of some kind? 

“Is that Time’s?” It’s hesitant, guarded, wary.  

“He won’t mind, or notice either, I expect. He never does.” 

Is Four getting into his things without his knowing? Since when? Time’s feet start back up the stairs again, only to pause once more at the vet’s hesitant voice. 

“You sure he won’t crucify me or something?” 

Malon’s going to kill him. That’s the impression he’s giving these younger heroes? 

“Just do it,” Four huffs, “stop being a baby.” 

And of course, insulting Legend is no way to get him to make the smart decision, whatever it is they're on about. He sets up the stairs again, creeping to the door of the guest room once he's reached the second floor and peeking around the door frame. The door’s still shut, but it’s little trouble to turn the handle ever so slowly and push it open enough to see what’s going on inside. 

He’s not expecting what he sees. 

Four is standing in the middle of the room, Sky’s embroidered undershirt hanging off of him like a rather short dress as he stares at the vet who’s still sitting on the bed where Time had left both of them early this morning. The vet, in turn, has similarly shed his own sweaty clothes, which he can see tossed over a nearby chair, and the pink-haired teen is currently drowning in what he recognizes to be one of his own tunics. The collar isn’t laced yet, but the vet is currently yanking at it to stop it trying to slip off a shoulder, struggling though because the sleeves of the outfit seem to have utterly swallowed his hands. 

Four giggles. Red is definitely fronting, although the smile he sees on the smith’s face is more like Green’s. “Let me help.” 

  “It’s just the sleeves,” the other boy huffs, “I got it.” He doesn’t. 

Time finds himself stifling a chuckle as he watches the vet fumble and fuss, switching between trying to free his hands and trying to tighten the collar. Any worries that the two were up to anything nefarious have long since vanished, although his will to see what they’re doing hasn’t. 

They look like actual kids like this, Four decked out in stollen finery and Legend drowning in Time’s own clothes, much too big for him, to the point that with the next attempt to free his hands, long sleeves flap freely and loose in an effort of some sort (he can only presume) to make them fall down naturally. That effort though is quickly forgotten, the vet’s face loosening, softening somewhat, eyes wide as he pauses and then tentatively flaps the sleeves again. Four giggles, and Legend’s chuffing laughter follows it as he grins as his trapped hands and the excess fabric that shakes and snaps with his quick movements. 

“Welcome,” the smithy sounds, “to the wonders of over-sized clothes. You’re welcome.” 

“I hate you,” Legend sighs, but there's not a bit of actual malice in the words as he flops back against the pillows on the bed, seemingly having given up on trying to fit into Time’s clothes and instead accepting his fate. The boy’s face screws up a moment later in confusion though, and he lifts a hand to his face again with a frown, sniffing slightly at the shirt sleeve. 

Time desperately, desperately hopes that Four didn’t steal that from his travel bag or dirty laundry. Except, he must not have, because Legend’s face softens again, this time into a smile, and he curls up a bit, burying his face in the fabric with a little hum that is strangely out of place for the harsh veteran they all have come to know. More so though, is the way Legend rubs his face across the fabric, ears flapping. It’s strangely adorable. 

“Nice?” Four is definitely gloating. 

Legend’s face rises for a moment out of the sleeves, a whole different person than Time knows, bitter-sweet smile and flushed cheeks. “’t smells like home.” 

Something in his chest clenches violently. 

There’s no such reaction from the smith though, who just looks pleasantly surprised, but nods it off with a smile, moving a bit closer and settling on the bedside, careful not to stir it and earning a brief look of thanks from the vet who is, now that he looks, still a bit pale and carrying tension around his shoulders and eyes. “Really?” 

“Yeah” violet eyes fall down to stare at long sleeves, hand flapping slightly inside again, but not enough to do more than make the fabric shift and shuffle a bit. “Time must use the same aftershave as-” a pause, a twitch of the face into a frown. “It’s a familiar scent.” 

It’s also a new one. Malon had got it for him for their wedding anniversary last year. He forgets what she called it, but she loves it, so he does too. On the road, it hardly matters what he smells like, but it makes him think of her and, like the captain says, it’s good to do small things for yourself even when traveling and fighting and struggling. Life’s not much worth living if it’s all harsh and you deny yourself even the small joys accessible to you. For him, that joy is remembering how his wife beams and showers him with kisses once he’s fresh faced again, but in the room before him, it can also mean stealing your team-mates' too big clothes and curling up in them when you aren’t feeling your best. 

The smile that pulls across his face as Legend rolls over to face Four better, curled up tightly in himself as the smithy laughs about something, both looking peaceful, is also one of those things. 

For a moment, a precious, fleeting moment, he can almost forget the two boys in the bedroom across from his own are heroes who have to save the world. Instead, he can almost imagine them waking up there and joining farm chores every day. No pain brought on by whatever these two have faced would exist in such a world and instead they’d be free to run wild around the barnyard, racing to finish chores or pulling pranks and making mischief like boys their age should be doing. 

It’s a nice picture, and not even properly bitter-sweet, even though he knows it can’t be, because they're still there in front of him, peaceful and content and chattering quietly, one of his boys curled up in his shirt and the other in Sky’s, both discussing scents and colognes and what smells signal home. 

#linked universe #linkeduniverse #ketto writes #lu legend #lu four #lu time #dad time #soft legend #four has multiple personalities/the colors #fluffic

[winterarmyy]

Behind The Facades | Part I

An unrequited pining over a certain super soldier.

Summary: In which Y/N is pining over Bucky while she watch him wrap his arms around someone else.

Navigation: Part I || Part II || Part III (end)

Words: 1.2k++

Pairings: avenger!bucky x female!reader

Warnings: angst. just pure angst and pain.

P/S: i'm feeling melancholy all of the sudden, therefore this idea was born. It's a very short one but I hope you enjoy!

Read my other works here: Masterlist

"Never let your true feelings show." was one and if not the most important lesson Y/N learned from where she was trained before becoming an agent under the avengers program.

It was so deeply etched within her very being, that the habit had became as natural as breathing the air into her lungs.

"Keep that mask on, and no one will be able ever break you." They said.

So, she did exactly that.

She giggled when Bucky told her about how he managed to make a fool of himself when he attempted to flirt a girl that he had fallen for at that bar he regularly went to.

He really shouldn't read those random top 10 pickuplines articles on Google anymore.

Tears were threaten to fall, as her shoulders shook in silent laughter, "Really, Barnes? I thought you were the ladies man back in the 40's"

"Exactly. 'Were' . Now, I am clearly not. Urghh, I can't believe I let that birdbrain convince me that these 'pickuplines' would do the trick."

Despite his gruff annoyance towards Sam, she could see a tinge of red shade on Bucky's cheek; probably feel embarrassed from what happened.

Gulping down whatever drink he had in his glass Bucky huffed, "Honestly, I don't think any sane person would even consider to approach me, let alone date me." His sharp gaze wavered into something more vulnerable.

Though he didn't mention anything about his history but when he shifted his view to the metal of his left hand, Y/N knew what he meant.

Y/N gaze softens, "I'm here with you. Am I not?" Her nails dug into the skin of her thighs as she held back from wanting to touch him, kiss him, hold him; to whisper sweet nothings in his ears in hopes that it would shut whatever doubts he has of himself even for just a moment.

There was a swift glaze over Bucky's eyes. As if he realized something but his words seems to deny his revelation, "I said 'sane person', Y/N."

Y/N gasped with an exaggerated perplex on her expression, "Sargent James Buchanan Barnes..." she purposely called him by his title, hoping it will remind him that he should have the reputation of a respectful man, "... are you accusing me of losing my sanity?"

Bucky shrugs with a face of pure innocence, "In this tower? We all are. But, especially you." a playful smirk tugged the corner of his lips as he waited to witness her reaction.

She stifled a laugh when she heard a knock on her door and then greeted by what looked like a mountain flower, and in between them was Bucky.

He had impulsively bought almost half a dozen bouquet of flowers because he couldn't decided which one of them is pretty enough for his date.

He shyly laughed it off when she told him "You could've face-timed me at the shop instead of ended up buying this much of flowers, Buck."

"God, you're right, doll. Why didn't I thought of that?" He frowned as he sighed.

"Because you're old and forgetful, that's why." Y/N teased as she leaned to the door frame, arms folded across her chest.

Bucky rolled his eyes before sending a glare towards her, "You're not going to stop mentioning my age in everything, are you?" he grumbled.

He might not know it but Y/N managed to noticed a tiny pout on his lips; something only, as they said, Steve can notice. That slight difference on his lowers lips; a very minimal protrude, barely noticable.

But secretly, she can see it too. And it was something she wished she could brag about, something she could tell the world; how lucky she was to be able to notice those little things about him.

She chuckled with an answer, "Never."

Another grumble escaped from Bucky somewhere behind the bouquets, before he presented a particular set towards Y/N, "Anyway, this is for you." He acts reluctant but she knew he was always sincere with actions.

Her eyes skimmed through the gorgeous arrangement of daisies; her favourite.

For a mere second, she let her heart flutter and a genuine smile bloomed on her lips; however the truth was not supposed to surface.

If Bucky was not blinded by the bouquet, he would've seen how the joyous glint her eyes faded even if her smile was still intact.

"Bribery is an act against the law, you do know that right, Sargent?" Nevertheless, her hands reached out to take the gift.

Bucky chuckled in response, "Yes, ma'am. I do."

She smiled when Bucky's love-struck gaze shines when he told her about his first kiss with that lucky lady, during one of those midnight coffee trips she share with him at the pantry.

He should've seen how beautiful he looked that night; free of worries and caught in pure joy.

"It was..." Bucky sighed in content; he was so happy he lost his words. As he tried to find the right description of the kiss, she could see his gaze softens.

Y/N knew he was recalling the kiss, but she couldn't help but to fall for him all over again; not that it's not a recurring event everyday but she really did felt as if her heart stopped for more than necessary.

'He's so happy.' She thought to herself. 'Then, I should be happy for him too'

So she did exactly how it supposed to be done.

"Mirror their feelings; that way your true feelings will never show."

Y/N did exactly that.

That one habit that had lead Y/N to countless of undercover missions.

The same missions that left Y/N with one of the highest rate of successful inflitration, unharmed.

And yet, the facade she wore seemed to failed her this time.

Why didn't work?

Why does it hurts?

The longer she kept the mask on, the more it burns from within.

"Keep that mask on, and no one will be able ever break you."

Then, why does her heart aches as if it was falling apart?

Y/N could feel how weak her knees were becoming, she had to lean on counter tops for support. The slow ballad filling the living room, leaking to the pantry from where she stood and watched.

Oh, she loved this song.

She wrapped her shivering hands around the warm cup of coffee that she made as she watched the couple danced. And the longer her longing gaze linger on Bucky, the blurrier her vision get.

"Y/N..." Natasha softly grazed the side of Y/N's arm. How could she not notice Natasha coming in. Must have been her widow effect.

"You're breaking, honey." Natasha was meaning to imply about Y/N's heart but she was so set on hiding her feelings she thought Natasha meant differently, "I know." She replied as she sipped on the warm drink.

Her facades are breaking.

Her hazy vision remained on the, now shadows of the dancing couple, "I will put up a new one." She didn't even notice how her own voice cracked.

Tears overflowed from the corner of her eyes, "Just let this one crumble." Her lips trembled as she told the truth, "Cause I don't think I can fix this."

Part II >>

Read my other works here: Masterlist

A/N: I'm thinking to have more of this couple; should i do it? Any thoughts?

#winterarmyyfics #behind the facades au #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #avenger!bucky #bucky angst

[delulu-with-wandanat]

Shape of you

Pairings: Wanda Maximoff x Natasha Romanoff.

Warnings 18+: Shapeshifting (Wanda), teasing, praise kink, slight degradation?, cunnilingus, bottom!Nat, top!Wanda, fluffy moments cus these two are just-

A/N: This was requested by a user who would like to remain anonymous. I hope you like it! It was nice exploring this idea with you, some of the lines were from them as well!

Summary: Wanda's exploring the extent of her powers and can't help but tease Nat with it. And Natasha... well, Natasha discovers something new about herself.

"What the-" Her girlfriend, Wanda, was always up to interesting things when she calls for Natasha's attention. Most of the times it was adorable, like that one time Wanda excitedly showed her the cupcake she had baked with a proud grin.

But this... this was just...

"Hey sailor." Wanda- or better yet, Natasha 2.0 said. The spy narrows her eyes in confusion, but nonetheless she was very impressed. She knew Wanda had been experimenting with the extent of her magic. Whenever they hung out in Wanda's room, she would absentmindedly play with her powers. However, she never knew Wanda's magic could go as far as shapeshifting.

"Well done, detka! However, you still sound like you." Natasha said from her seat on Wanda's bed, her tone was teasing. The witch pouted, oh god is that what I look like when I pout?? "Aw... My darling, I was only joking. I'm sorry, this is really impressive!"

Wanda only stick out her tongue and faced the mirror once more. This was something she had been working on for the past days, Wanda noticed that she was able to be alter the environment around her, which pique her curiosity on whether or not she could alter her body.

At first it was simple things, like changing the color of her hair without the use of hair dye. Then putting on clothes without actually needing to put on any materials, getting her nails done, the color of her eyes, so on and so forth. Then she started to wander if she could alter... her face.

She got the idea from none other than her own girlfriend, the former Russian spy. Natasha had told her about the time she used a photostatic veil in order to impersonate others, which inspired the witch to do her little experiment.

Wanda checks herself out on the mirror. She had gotten everything right, from Natasha's hair, her beautiful green eyes, her full lips. "How are you not in love with yourself?" Wanda asked randomly.

"I'm pretty sure there's a term for that, unfortunately Tony already took the title." Natasha replied.

"If you were, i'd honestly understand."

Natasha only hummed in response and returned to her previous activity on scribbling in her notepad. Well, she knew she was attractive of course. She had no doubt about that, but being physically attracted to herself sounded absurd. Not because she was insecure or any of that, rather how does one could be THAT self absorbed.

"Do you ever think about fucking yourself?"

Natasha almost choked in her own saliva at Wanda's rather absurd question. And to be quite honest, she should be used to it by now. Wanda could be quite... random. One of the many traits Natasha adores so much, but... maybe there are times where you shouldn't speak out your mind-

"I think the word for it is masturbating."

"No, I meant like... Having sex, with yourself. As in physically touching a clone of yourself." Wanda elaborated.

A small smile creeped onto Natasha's face. Wanda's absurdity was so weird yet so adorable at the same time. Natasha finally put down the notepad and puts her attention fully to the younger woman. "That mind of yours, little witch. Sometimes I don't understand why you're even asking any of these questions for..."

Wanda only rolled her eyes, her face was still representing Natasha. Christ, this is weird. "I'm just saying..." Wanda said in a low voice. Taking a step towards the bed, swaying her hips slightly. "Hypothetically, if you were to meet a clone of yourself, wouldn't you feel... something?" The seduction in her voice were present.

Well... the way she saw her own face smirking at her, Natasha had to admit. It was rather... sexy.

Wanda got closer and closer, crawling onto the bed to Natasha. Arching her back a little so her ass was up in the air. Natasha raised an eyebrow at Wanda. "What are you trying to do?"

"My point being, you drive me crazy, Natasha Romanoff. With your eyes, your smirk, the way you present yourself in general." Wanda continued, still advancing towards her on the bed, almost like a cat. Soon enough, Wanda made herself comfortable on her lap, tilting her head a little as she looked down at Natasha. "Don't you think you'd feel some type of way if you ever met a clone of yourself?"

Natasha crane her neck upward to see herself, or more like a face of herself smirking down at her. Perhaps Wanda was onto something, Natasha's face had an aura that tug something within you. Yet, the spy was still not convinced. That may be her face, her smirk, however everything else was still Wanda.

Maybe because she was a spy so she was much more observant, that or she loves Wanda so much to the point where she knows every single little detail about her. The little head tilt that she always does, the nose crunch when she smiles, Natasha could go on and on.

Natasha then raised her hand and lets it rest on Wanda's cheek. "I already have the girl for that, detka."

A soft blush formed on Wanda's cheek, the smirk turned into a soft smile. Ugh god, I'm making a mental note not to blush like that. Looks cute on Wanda, but god forbid someone else caught me in that state.

A smirk formed on Natasha lips, her other hand grip Wanda's thigh slightly, causing the witch to hitch her breath. Natasha moved her hand to the back of Wanda's neck, pulling her down so she could whisper in her ear. "Now how about you let me see that girl, hmm?"

Within an instant, her face transformed to it's original state. Natasha smiled upon seeing the view she adores so much. She then pulled Wanda down, the two met halfway, sharing a soft loving kiss while embracing one another.

⧗ᗢ⧗

Natasha had thought that her girlfriend's little hocus pocus would end there. However, the little witch was very much still adamant on reaching her goal. Which was to become the perfect Natasha clone.

Altering her appearance was easy, making it accurate was not so hard either.

"Hey babe, I think I finally got your tits right. Can you come over and have a feel to see if it's accurate?"

Natasha stopped dead in her tracks upon hearing the question at 9am in the morning. She had just gone back from her run to find Wanda standing in front of her mirror, with a different body, HER body to be precise. And also wearing her suit... The zipper was unzipped way lower than it should to be frank-

"Wouldn't you have a better opinion on that? After all, you're the one who's on the other end of the stick." Natasha teased after composing herself real quick.

"It's your body."

"Wanda, I don't exactly spend my time in front of a mirror all day." The witch then took another look in the mirror, her eyes almost looks like a prey as her hand trails up her body in a sexual manner, biting her lips as she gave her tits a firm grip.

The scene had Natasha swallowing the lump in her throat. That's when she felt... something in her stomach. What the fuck was that-

"Mmmm, the way I would record myself if I had this kind of body." Wanda husked out dreamily.

Natasha took in a shaky breath, which went unnoticed by the witch. "I love your body the way it is."

"Oh darling, I don't mean that in a self deprecating way. Don't you worry." The younger woman continues to admire her body, or Natasha's body in the mirror. Turning to the side and arching her back, running her hands along the curves seductively. "Keep watching, perv."

Wanda's words snapped the spy out of her trance, when her gaze returned to Wanda's green orbs, the witch was smirking slightly at her. Natasha only rub the bridged of her nose and mumbles some incoherent words in Russian.

"You can be honest."

"I'm going to the gym-"

"You just got back from a jog." Wanda stated.

"I need something to punch after dealing with..." Natasha made a movement with her right hand, indicating to the whole shapeshifting ordeal. Wanda only narrows her eyes in faux offense, Natasha then turns around and walked out of their room.

"You love me!" Wanda yelled out just before the door closes. Natasha merely rolls her eyes, yet a smile creeped up on her face. She really does...

⧗ᗢ⧗

The most difficult part for Wanda was not to alter her appearance, rather how to mimic her girlfriend's demeanor and personality. Which was weird, wasn't it? As Natasha's lover, Wanda should be able to mimic her perfectly.

Perhaps there were a couple of reasons. One, she wasn't a trained spy or actor by any means. And two, Natasha had an... aura you could say, a confidence, the way she brought herself up. It wasn't something that anyone could copy.

Natasha strides into a room with her head held high, all attentions directed to her in an instant. When she speaks, no one dares to cut her off. The power she holds, the fire in her eyes, just everything about her that makes her Natasha-Fucking-Romanoff.

Maybe that's why the witch was so drawn to her. And to be completely honest, Wanda had no clue whatsoever on how she manages to bag the former assassin.

So for the past couple of days, Wanda did a complete observation of Natasha. Watching every moves that she makes, the way she speaks to others. The micro-expressions on her face, the way she sits, her composure, every-single-fucking-thing...

"Nat?"

Natasha turns around upon hearing her colleague.

"Rogers." Natasha responded promptly.

"How'd you get here so fast?" Steve asked, confusion written across his face. To which Natasha responded with equal confusion.

"Meaning?"

"I thought I just saw you... Never mind that." He approached her and makes himself a cup of coffee as well. Natasha had her back leaning against the counter. "How are you and Wanda?"

With that Natasha lets out a soft chuckle. "Interested in my love life, Rogers?"

"It's a harmless question." Steve responded with a kind smile.

"We're alright." Natasha said, trying to hide the tiny smile that's creeping up to her face at the thought of Wanda.

"I'm truly happy for you both." The two avengers drank their beverage in a comfortable silence. Despite all the dangerous mission they had to go through, moments like these are the ones they cherish the most. In the midst of all the chaos, it was nice to have a peace of mind once in a while.

After a few moments, Steve broke the silence once again. "Well, I should head out."

Natasha narrows her eyes in confusion. "Aren't you supposed to train Wanda this morning?"

"You just told me she was sick??"

"I didn't... Wanda is sick?" Concern flair up in her for a split second, I didn't even know...

"You tell me." Both Avengers were in confusion. "Nat, are you sick as well? You seems a little off today."

"Rogers, I assure you, I'm perfectly fine."

"Alright... Well, I hope Wanda a speed recovery. See you around, Nat." Steve said before walking past her while patting her shoulder.

What the fuck is going on??

Natasha opted to check up on her girlfriend, she strides to the direction of Wanda's room. The conversation she had with Steve was weird to say the least, however, being the spy that she is, she had an idea on what was going on. Just as she was about to knock on Wanda's door, a voice called out to her.

"Natasha." To hear herself, she wasn't that much surprised to say the least.

Natasha smirked, she knew Wanda was still hellbent on the whole shapeshifting thing.

"Trying to get yourself out of training I see."

"A day won't hurt anyone."

Natasha turns around to face... herself. She had to admit, this was very impressive. Wanda manages to get every curves of her body right, the color of her eyes, her hair, down to her signature smirk.

"You could've just told me, you know?" Natasha said in a slight teasing tone.

"I find this more exciting." Wanda said, taking a closer step towards her. This is really weird.

Natasha... out for words. Give her a break, how exactly does one reacts to this? Wanda had become the perfect clone. Natasha tried to say something, only to close her mouth again. With that, Wanda smiled teasingly.

"Cat got your tongue?" She said, while thumb reaching up to rest it self on Natasha's chin. The spy's breath hitched. Why the fuck-

"Don't flatter yourself."

Wanda let out a soft chuckle, "So defensive, Detka." Fuck, is this how Wanda feels every time?

"How long are you planning to keep this going, hmm?"

Wanda only lean closer, her breath ghosting on Natasha's lips. "I'm not entirely sure..." The witch's eyes subtly glanced down to her lips before returning to her eyes. "Until it bores me." With one last smirk, Wanda pulled away and walked to a different direction.

Natasha lets out the breath she didn't even know she was holding. To see herself, acting the way she did awakened something in her. Natasha wasn't sure if she was comfortable with that fact...

⧗ᗢ⧗

The rest of the day was... interesting to say the least. Wanda spent the entire day, posing as her. However, the witch wasn't out and about to wreak havoc. Meaning she wasn't out there to spread rumors as Natasha, or completely re-writing Natasha's well known reputation.

No, no... It was much worse than that.

She was constantly teasing, and flirting with Natasha AS Natasha. Which the spy couldn't decided if she would have prefer the former or the latter.

Wanda was getting bolder each minutes as well. It started off as just having a rather seductive conversation with her, then she started stretching and bending her body in sexual manners, then she started brushing her hand and whispering things in her ears. It frustrated the spy, one because it turns her on in a way that made her feel weird about herself. And two, she may or may not feel slightly hypocritical, as she often does this to rile up Wanda.

"I think I'm starting to understand." Natasha felt a hand encircling her waist, her voice whispering on her right ear. Natasha looked up from the bathroom sink, the reflection caused her to hitch her breath. Wanda smirked as she rest her head on the spy's shoulder.

"Understand what, exactly?"

"Why you do what you do..." Wanda husked out. Pulling Natasha closer by the waist and flushing their bodies completely. "Why you tease me so relentlessly..." Natasha lets in a shaky breath the moment she watches the scene unfold in front of her eyes. Wanda kisses her shoulder, before slowly trailing it up to her neck.

"Wands..." Natasha breathed out, her mind was starting to get hazy. Her eyes flutter slightly, she couldn't help but to crane her neck a little to give Wanda better access.

"To have someone submit to you so easily..." Wanda started to nibble her earlobe, Natasha couldn't help the slight moan that escaped her throat. Which caused Wanda to chuckle.

For fuck sake, why am I feeling like this?

"The power you have against me, Natasha Romanoff." Wanda husked out again. With one swift movement, Wanda spun her around to face her. Natasha could feel her breath against hers. The spy's eyes shifted just for a split second, Wanda's lips pulled into a devilish smile the moment Natasha was caught red handed. "Go on. I won't blame you."

Natasha took in a sharp breath, yet she couldn't seem to rack up any words.

"Don't be afraid, Natasha." Wanda purred, leaning ever so close their lips were mere inches apart. Natasha didn't knew what's gotten into her. Was it the way she acted? Her voice? Her mannerism?

She knew she was good at what she does, hence why all of her targets gave in whenever she used seduction. But to have experienced it herself was something she would've never imagined happening. Was it weird? Perhaps.

But by god does her lips move so well against her...

The way she took control, just how the spy always does. The way her hands know exactly where she wanted to held. The way her tongue teases her lips, causing Natasha to subconsciously part hers letting Wanda gain access.

Their mouth moved in a perfect tandem. Natasha moaned against her, arching her body in a way she normally never does. Almost submitting herself...

She broke the kiss, trailing kisses along her jawline, then down to her neck. Natasha's breathing was getting heavier and heavier on every kiss, her knees felt wobbly. She wrapped an arm round Wanda's shoulders for support.

"You feel the effect you have on me?"

She lets her hand roam down to Natasha's thigh, giving in a firm grip while her mouth continued its way down Natasha's neck. The action was causing Natasha to let out a breathy moan. As her mouth explored Natasha's neck, searching for a sweet spot, she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror.

"Ah... I see why you like this angle. Why you love to fuck me in this exact position." She smirked at her own reflection, Natasha's back facing the mirror. She trailed her hand up Natasha's spine from under the muscle tee. Fuck, even Wanda is so turned on by the sight...

She then pushed her leg between Natasha's thighs, eliciting a delicious moan from the redhead and something she did not expected to hear, "Natalia..."

Both women snapped out of their trance.

The witch pulled back to look at Natasha in the eye. The spy was shocked at her own words. "I'm sorry. I don't know why I-"

But Natasha was shushed, a smirk creeping onto her partner's lip. "What did you just call me?"

Natasha clenched her jaw, "Wanda-"

"No." She responded firmly. Her finger reached up to force Natasha to look at her in the eye. "I won't ask you again, Malyshka." The amount of dominance in her voice made Natasha weak in the knees. The spy didn't know why, but all she wanted to do was to oblige.

"Natalia..."

"Good girl."

Oh fuck- Fuck, fuck, fuck.

She crashed her lips onto Natasha, with one swift movement Natalia had picked her up to sit on the counter top. Making the older one gasp and moaned against her. Natalia tugged on the muscle tee she was wearing, the older one took off her shirt with so much difficulty as she refused to part their lips for more than a second.

Natalia lets her hand roamed the newly exposed skin. Running her hand up her strong muscular back, gently digging her nails causing Natasha to hiss and arch her back. "Oh god-" She groaned. Natasha puts her hand on her chin to force Natalia to look at her. "Take me to bed." The spy demanded.

The clone merely raised her eyebrow, Wanda had to hold herself as she was so used to obeying Natasha's words. But not this time. "You know better on how to use your words, Detka."

Natasha swallowed the lump in her throat, one last breath she let out a very soft. "Please..."

A devilish smirk crepped up on Natalia's lip, "Say it again. Full sentence."

"Please, take me to bed, Natalia..."

Delighted, the clone crashed their lips once again and swiftly pick her up. Natasha naturally wraps her legs around her, her right hand on her shoulder for balance while her left remain on Natalia's cheek.

The kiss gets progressively messy as Natalia carry her to their bed. With the lack of space between them, she could feel Natasha's growing arousal on her abs. The spy even tightens her legs around and subtly moving her hips. Christ, since when did Natasha get so needy?

Once Natasha was laying on her back, Natalia pulled back to take off her shirt. Natasha watches the scene, practically drooling at the mouth. The clone wasted no time in locking their lips once again, positioning herself between Natasha's legs and grinding her abs against her core.

"Ahh... F-fuck..." A pathetic whine escaped the spy's throat. Something that never had happened before.

Natasha's panting and moaning filled the room, it was music to Natalia's ears. Painting the older ones neck and collarbone with purple markings, now she understands why Natasha always leaves so much of those. To mark her territory, show off to everybody what is rightfully hers. The two continues to undress each other, revealing more and more skin each time. Natalia pulled back to take in the view.

The sight of the infamous Black Widow, now naked underneath her, squirming under her touches, by god Wanda wanted to engrave the sight on her mind.

Over the course of their relationship, Natasha took charge most of the time, well... all the time actually. However, it wasn't because she forbid Wanda to take charge, no. But rather Wanda found herself incapable of doing anything else other than to obey her. She never understood why, until now that is.

The power she has, the seduction in her voice, the aura that just makes someone follow you like a blind dog willingly.

"Look how pathetic you are..." Natalia husked out while playing with her tits. Natasha's bottom lip trembles, desperately holding back the needy whine that's threatening to escape her throat. Still trying so hard to keep her 'dignity' even after the numerous slip ups a few minutes ago. "You don't have to hold back, Detka."

Natalia slowly kisses her way down to her stomach, Natasha's breath hitch as she closes her eyes, her legs subconciously spread wider.

"Look at me." Natalia demanded. When Natasha opens her eyes again and look down, the clone was smirking up at her. "Don't you want to see how good you look?"

Natalia stick out her tongue, dragging down from her stomach then all the way to her inner thigh.

"This part is my favorite to watch..." Natalia husked out as she makes herself comfortable between Natasha's thighs. Kissing and lightly biting the inner parts, getting dangerously close to her core only to pull away, causing Natasha to grip the bedsheets like her life depends on it as she watches the scene unfold.

"Please..." Natasha breathed out.

Natalia smirked. Christ, that devilish smirk. "I'll do it exactly the you do."

And by god does Natasha finally understands what she means.

Head thrown back, toe curling, sheets gripped tight as Natalia lapped her up like a starved animal. Natasha's moans were music to her ears. Natalia swore the sight itself could make her come without the need of touching herself. The feeling of Natasha grabbing a handful of her hair was enough to make her head spin, causing Natalia to moan against her core.

The action only pushed Natasha closer to the edge. "Oh fuck-"

She was close, it was almost so pathetic how quickly she got to lose herself. As Natalia kept sucking and twirling her tongue on her aching bud, the knot on her stomach was threatening to snap.

Yet, she couldn't?

She knew she was practically gliding along the edge. What exactly is stopping her?

Natalia was too pre-occupied to notice Natasha hesitancy. The spy whined and whined like a pathetic mutt as she wanted nothing more than her release. But it never came.

"S-stop, stop, please..." Natasha whimpered.

Natalia froze and pulled away, immediately hovering closer to Natasha's face. Looking at her with so much concern and fear. "What's wrong? Did I hurt you?"

Natasha shook her head, there was tears in her eyes. Yet, not out of pain, out of frustration. Which Wanda picked it up as though she had hurt Natasha. Her heart ached as she thought of the damage she might've caused. Luckily, Natasha was quick to straighten things out.

"No, detka. It's not you, I just-" Natasha couldn't understand, what's happening to me?

Natalia, reached up to cup her face. Causing the two to lock eyes. Oh... Maybe that's why... "Talk to me." Natalia said gently.

"I want you..." Natasha breathed out.

"Are you sure you can continue?" Natasha nodded, the hand that was initially on her face slowly and gently trailed down again. "I'll be gentle, I promise."

But Natasha halted her hand before it could go further. "Not like this." Natalia tilted her head in confusion. "I meant- You, Wanda, I want you..."

Realization hits her like a brick. Without missing beat, Natasha finally stared back at the woman she loves, Wanda Maximoff...

As much as she enjoyed the whole role play and that it turned her on in many ways. The act of release was.... something she found rather sacred?

Perhaps for better term, her body only naturally wanted to let go for Wanda. She made Natasha feel safe, like she could let down her guard. Like she could demolish the wall she had built around herself for so many years.

Wanda, Wanda, Wanda....

"I love you." Natasha whispered, her hand wrapped around the witch's shoulder. Staring deeply into her green eyes, oh those eyes...

"I didn't mean to hurt you-"

"You didn't." The redhead said firmly, pulling Wanda closer so she could rest their foreheads together. "But I wanted it to be you, only you..."

Wanda nodded, her hand trailed down again to her aching core. Natasha's breath gets heavier with anticipation. It started slow, as Wanda had to build her up once more. She leaned down capturing Natasha in a soft kiss while her hand did their magic.

"Just like that. Ah- Wanda..." Fuck, the witch loved their previous role play, but hearing her own name was so much better.

"You're doing so well for me, detka." Wanda whispered as she picked up the pace. Natasha's breath hot against her face as the spy yearned for their close proximity. Wanda then started kissing her jaw, her neck, then up to a spot just below her ear. "I love you so much, Natasha."

The redhead felt a surge of arousal in her stomach, this moment was so intimate. In a sense, she felt so safe, so loved, so well taken care of. She loves her, she loves her, by god she loves her...

"Wanda, f-fuck. I'm so close...." Natasha moaned.

"I got you, baby." The knot in her stomach tightens as it's threatening to snap at any given seconds. Natasha chants her name like a prayer, begging for her to go faster so she could have the release she so desired. And Wanda wants nothing more than to fulfill her needs.

"Wanda... Wan- oh fuck!" Finally, it snapped. Natasha hid her face on Wanda's neck, still holding her close as the witch helps her through her orgasm. They've had much more exciting sex of course, but this moment... this wasn't just sex. It was making love.

The realization that Natasha only felt safe enough to let go is for Wanda. That wasn't something Wanda was going to take lightly.

Natasha's breathing eventually evened out. They pulled away to gaze into another, though it seems like there was a soft blush on Natasha's face. Wanda couldn't help but to smile, it was so adorable to see the big strong Black Widow blushing like so.

"You're so cute." Wanda teased, leaning down to kiss her nose.

Natasha only scrunched her nose, but a small smile creeped onto her lips. "I love you."

"I love you too."

"I should return the favor..." Natasha husked out.

Wanda bit her lip, "I wouldn't be opposed to that."

⧗ᗢ⧗

Wanda entered the gym with a yawn, holding a cup of tea in her hand. She looked rather adorable still in her pajamas. Natasha noticed her and gave her a soft smile.

"You should be in training, witchy." Sam grumbles as he does more push ups, courtesy of Nat of course.

"Don't make me add another 100, Sam." Natasha replied.

"This ain't fair! You can't just give out special treatments just cause she's your girlfriend."

"You know what? Fair enough, just for that you get 200."

Sam cursed under his breath, "Go fuck yourself, Romanoff."

Instant flashbacks for the spy, yet she quickly shook it off before anyone else at the gym notices. However, she locked eyes with Wanda who raised her eyebrows teasingly.

'Don't...' Natasha mouthed.

Wanda only sipped her tea, while maintaining eye contact. It had a glints of mischief in them.

Damn this woman...

Whoooo, ok so i had this WIP for like weeks. And I'm the type of person who gets overwhelmed when one thing isn't done, so I'm gonna post this so i don't have the weight of it in my head for these college essays :')

I'm sorry that I'm gonna have to postpone all request until further notice, anyway hope you guys liked it! Also I hope the whole thing wasn't confusing, i tried my best to describe Wanda as Natasha XD I think I could've done better but with everything my head was elsewheree, anyhow enjoy!

#natasha romanoff #wanda maximoff #wandanat #natasha #wanda x natasha #wanda #wlw #natasha x wanda #wandanat smut #wandanat fluff #wantasha #moffnoff #scarletwidow #scarlet widow #scarletwidow fluff #scarletwidow smut

[heavyhitterheaux]

Meet Me Halfway

AN: Whewww buckle up!

Synopsis: He's a hopeless romantic, but you can't for the life of you understand why he won't commit. He's attached to you and doesn't want to be around anyone else. Doubts start to creep into your mind and now you're left feeling like you aren't good enough.

Pairing: Jack Harlow x Reader

Requested by: @kentuckyboyharlow 🥰

Jack Harlow Masterlist

Please Do Not Repost My Content Anywhere

“That’s my good girl, you better take this shit and act like you want it.” Jack said while hovering above you while you were in the midst of getting your back blown out by him for the sixth time this week.

All it took was a few new outfits from Givenchy and three pairs of Louboutins to have you at his mercy.

But this was the usual thing.

You definitely didn’t need him, there was no doubt in your mind surrounding that.

But you wanted him.

You were successful in your own right having graduated from the top of your class at Harvard and following in your parents footsteps of being a business owner. You had always had an eye for fashion, so that was your go to. High end boutiques that you owned which could only be found in Paris, London, New York, Tampa, Las Vegas, Los Angeles, and Atlanta. 

The two of you met when he had ventured into one of your boutiques when you had happened to be there and he was infatuated by you from the first glance. 

And everyone was able to tell. 

This entire friends with benefits situation had been going on for a year and a half, and as much as you didn’t want to admit it, it was now starting to bother you.

Bottom line is that you knew that you deserved better, but you wanted for the better to come from him.

As far fetched as that idea was. 

Jack would tell you all the time how he longed to be in a relationship with someone that would see him for the person that he was and not just what his job entailed.

Well, that was you.

He would admit that you were one of the few people who still treated him like a person and separated him from what his job description entailed. 

He would go to you about everything and sometimes more often than not, you would know things before even his best friend Urban did.

Jack would always tell you how much he trusted you and how much he valued having you in his life, however it didn’t quite feel like it sometimes.

Being that you signed an NDA, there really was no one that you could talk to about your relationship issues and didn’t want the risk of you accidentally letting his name slip from your lips when you were addressing the topic. 

So, you suffered in silence.

But, you honestly didn’t know how much longer you could take. 

Jack literally did everything for you that a boyfriend would do in a relationship, there just wasn’t a title to go along with it. 

As you were both coming down from your high, Jack took the opportunity to pepper kisses all along your skin, before finally reaching your face and kissing the side of your mouth before pressing his lips to yours. 

He slowly slipped out of you making you wince before laying down next to you on his back and pulling you on top of him.

Jack noticed that you had been unusually quiet for the past three days.

He bought the gifts in hope that it would put you in a better mood, but truth be told nothing had changed.

That’s when the thought of him losing you crept into his mind no matter how much he tried to block it out.

You meant a lot to him and when an opportunity arose for him to tell you, he took it.

He loved you and was in love with you but probably would never say it to your face. He was scared that he would either run you off or mess up a good thing and that was honestly the last thing that he wanted to do.

You were his safe place and his safe haven. 

“Babe, why are you so quiet? Did something happen? You haven’t been yourself for these past few days.”

“I’m fine, I promise.” You answered, not bothering to pick your head up from his chest to look at him and you knew that he was going to continue to push until he got an answer that he was satisfied with.

“You know better than to lie to me. You can tell me anything. I want to help you fix what’s wrong if I can.”

Oh, he definitely could,alright, if he would just admit his feelings and stop being scared all the time.

That was the only reason that you could think of as to why he hasn’t said anything to you yet.

“Can we just drop it? It’s not something that I want to think about right now. You asked me to come see you and I did and that’s all I want to focus on before I have to fly back home.”

“We can drop it for now, but before you leave I want an answer.”

“It’s nothing, just work things.”

“That’s bullshit and you know by now that I can see right through you.”

“Jackman….”

“Damn, we on government basis now?” Jack asked as he looked down at you and the two of you finally made eye contact.

You were quiet and simply looked at him. 

When he didn’t get an answer from you all he did was sigh before kissing the top of your head.

“Fine, I’ll let it go for now. Maybe it’ll take your mind off things when we go to see my parents and Clay later.”

“I thought you said that we weren’t leaving this bed when I got here?”

“Well more or less. We’ve been going at it for six days anyway, one night away won’t hurt. And they miss you anyway. I told them that you were coming and they got excited.”

This obviously wasn’t the first time that you had met Jack’s parents. You actually knew them really well. He always introduced you as his friend when meeting someone new and every time Maggie saw you she would ask if her oldest had asked for you to be his girlfriend yet.

Because she honestly didn’t know what the hold up was either.

She would always tell you the way that Jack talked about you and how he would literally light up and get excited. He didn’t do that with anyone else.

Not to mention that when the two of you met, he literally cut off everyone that to him would be seen as a distraction and would take his attention off of you.

You were the shiny new toy that he was infatuated by and as many times as you wanted to walk away from the situation, he kept reeling you back in. 

“So, what do you think of the house?” Jack asked you quickly changing the subject before you had an opportunity to say no.

You had been the first person that he confided in about wanting to buy a house and he wanted for you to go house hunting with him in Louisville, however, your schedule just didn’t allow it. But you promised him you would come and see it as soon as you could.

When he made the purchase, he immediately flew you out to see it, hence, why you were there now.

He still had some decorating to do for him to get it exactly how he wanted it, but the basics were there.

You were the first person to step foot in it besides him and the realtor and you admit that you loved that he confided in you so much because he valued your opinion on different things.

“I like it, it suits you.”

“I got an extra key made for you too.” Jack said while reaching over to the bedside table to grab it and then placing it in your hands.

“Jack…”

“No, I want you to have it. You’re my person and if at any time you need me, you know that I’ll be here and there’s no need to hesitate. I’m always going to be here for you no matter what. If you want to hop on a plane in the middle of the night to come see me, then you can. You keep me grounded and the last thing that I would ever want to do is lose you.”

“Okay.” You said as you reached over to put it to the side of you making a mental note to put it on your keys later.

“Can I be real with you for a minute?” Jack asked you and you simply nodded your head.

“Of course you can, I’m never going to tell you no.”

And truth be told that’s what your problem was, never being able to tell him no.

“I just think about how I can’t wait to settle down and have kids. I highly doubt that I’m going to meet my wife in a club somewhere, but you never know I guess. I want for them to want for nothing and that’s why I work so hard now.”

Luckily you weren’t facing Jack as he told you this because you immediately rolled your eyes.

He always did this shit and made you feel as if you were just a placeholder even if that wasn't his intention. Keeping his wife’s spot warm for when he actually did meet her and then what? He would probably kick you to the curb and would probably have to give him the house key back.

When that happened, you planned on cutting him off for good.

And you weren’t going to run back to him no matter how hard that it might end up being.

Because how in the world would you be able to compete with somebody’s wife?

“I don’t know if that’s what I want in life or if that’s the type of life for me.” You quietly answered and Jack did a double take.

Honestly, you wanted for it to be with him, but the thought of that went out the window a long time ago. 

What Jack wouldn’t admit to your face is that the only person he saw that future with was you.

“Since when? From the moment we met you said that you always wanted a family.”

“Well things can change.” You replied while shrugging. 

“Any man would be lucky to have you and he wouldn’t want for nothing because of how amazing of a person you are. Anyone is able to see that. Especially me."

“I.. just don’t know if I’m cut out to be someone’s wife.”

“You’re definitely more than capable. Just look at the way you take care and do things for me.”

You so badly wanted at that moment to get up and walk out the door and never speak to him again, but of course it wasn’t that easy.

You were too far in and down bad and you knew it. 

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” Jack placed another kiss to your temple and this time you couldn't help but to smile.

“Now let me eat you out before we have to get ready.”

It was now around 8 PM and Maggie had cornered you with a glass of red wine for you to update her about everything that had been going on in your life in the backyard since she ordered out for dinner not having the energy to cook anything.

I guess it was fair seeing as the last time you saw her was a month ago.

You truly adored his parents and looked up to them as they were yours right along with Clay.

“Okay miss lady, spill it!” Maggie said while sitting next to you and handing you the wine.

“Nothing is really going on!” You said while laughing and taking a small sip.

“Nothing? Nothing at all? Including with my oldest child?” 

“Definitely nothing there. We’re friends, that’s all.”

“But the way that he looks at you tells me otherwise. I know that look because that is how Brian looks at me.”

“Mama Maggie….”

“What?! I’m just saying! I know what love looks like when I see it and I definitely see it between the two of you no matter how much either of you wants to deny it, Mama knows best.”

“I’m not saying that you’re wrong but….”

“But what?”

“I just don’t think I’m the perfect fit for him.”

“And that is utter bullshit, excuse my French. You two fit together like two puzzle pieces and not the ones that you have to force together.”

“We’re friends and the last thing I want to do is ruin that.”

“But my question is, what if you don’t ruin it and it turns into something more? Then what? You’re never going to know unless you try.”

Just then Jack made his way over to the two of you and Maggie simply eyed him.

“You two were just talking about me, weren’t you?” He asked while looking between both of you.

“Oh, just telling Y/N how I’m waiting for you to ask her on a proper date. Nothing more or nothing less.”

“MOM!” Jack exclaimed while turning beet red and all you could do was stifle a laugh.

“What? What’d I say? You obviously want me to be honest with you right?”

“I… I should have never asked. Anyway, Y/N, you ready?”

“But we’re only one glass in, don’t tell me you’re stealing her from me already.”

“She has an early flight mom, so yes I am stealing her from you.”

“Fine, Y/N, just remember what I told you and don’t take so long to come back and see me.”

“I promise I won’t.”

The two of you simply rode in silence back to his house and once there, you immediately went upstairs to begin packing.

“Hey, you okay? I seriously want you to tell me what’s wrong. I didn’t forget.” Jack asked while coming up behind you and wrapping his arms around you and placing a kiss on your cheek.

"I promise I'm okay. I just don't want you to worry about me.'

"But I always worry about you. Can't help it. If it was left up to me, you would be around me all the time."

"I know I would." You said while laughing and Jack turned you around so that you were now facing him.

He was simply looking at you with that famous smile of his and you could feel your face starting to get hot.

"Oh my gosh, stop!"

"Stop what? I didn't even do anything!"

"You're staring at me!'

"Well I can't help it if my girl is extremely gorgeous." Jack said while leaning down to kiss you and you eagerly kissed him back.

"Can't you stay for one more day?' He quietly asked and you immediately sighed.

"You know I can't."

"Yes you can, you're the CEO and can do whatever you want."

"You had me for a week already."

"And truth be told I need another one. Come on babe, please." Jack said while trying to subtly reach behind you in order to close your suitcase to put it back in his closet.

"But…"

"I haven't seen you for an entire month. Everyone was suffering just ask Urb."

"Fine, one more day."

"Good, because I already went in your phone and changed your flight so this would have been real awkward if you had said no."

"Jack!"

"What!? I missed you."

"I missed you too."

"See if you moved down here, I could see you every day and not have to miss you so much all the time."

"Now, Jackman.."

"Hey, it was just a thought!" 

Even though you promised Jack to stay another day, you still packed the majority of your things away so that it would be easier to get ready to leave and hopefully be at the airport on time. Jack had helped you finish and the two of you began to have a movie marathon before you fell asleep. 

Jack was still wide awake and peering down at you while you were asleep on his chest.

His thoughts were running rampant and he knew that you deserved better than this.

But truth be told, he was terrified.

Terrified of his feelings that he had for you.

He didn't really know why, seeing as he knew you like the back of his hand and he knew that you wouldn’t hurt him, but that thought still had residence in the back of his mind.

The biggest thing he had to separate is the fact that you weren't her.

The two of you had absolutely nothing in common and when Jack met you, it was like a breath of fresh air.

You were focused, had your goals, dreams, and aspirations set and he honestly wanted nothing more than to see you win and be by your side through all of it.

But what he didn't plan on was falling in love with you head first.

He wanted to tell you, he really did.

But the last thing he ever wanted to do was disappoint you or vice versa, you disappoint him.

However, the way that you showed him that you cared let him know that he wanted you in his life for the long run.

It was only a matter of time until you got fed up and he didn't know what he would do when that happened.

Just a little while longer and he'll tell you.

The wife that he would always mention that he wanted was you.

He saw a future with you and no one else.

Now all he needed was the courage to tell you.

—

You had been back home for about a week and a half and had been extremely busy getting new designs ready for fall. You admit that you hadn’t been answering your phone much or talking to Jack on a daily basis like you usually did, so it didn’t surprise you when your phone started ringing with his specific ringtone attached to it. 

"Hello?" You answered when you had finally found your phone that was buried underneath multiple fabrics that you were using for the dress you were designing.

"Babe! What took you so long to answer your phone!?"

"I'm working, Jackman. I need to work in order to buy things."

"My girl doesn't need to work when she knows I got her. Anything you ask me for, I get it without a second thought."

"I- cut it out."

"Just saying, but anyway, I got your assistant to clear your schedule for this weekend. Actually the whole week." 

"What the!?!? JACK!"

"My baby needs a much deserved break and I'm spending the entire week spoiling her. You'll thank me later."

"Where are we going?"

"Meet me on the tarmac at 6 am on Saturday to find out. Oh and bring that purple lingerie set that I like."

"What? I don't have a set that's purple." You answered, trying to think of all of the sets you had in your head.

"Yes you do since I got it delivered to your house earlier. It'll be waiting for you when you get there."

"What am I going to do with you?" You asked him while shaking your head.

"Nothing. Been stuck with me this long. And you know you can't get rid of me that easily."

"Jackman, get off my phone and let me finish so I can go home."

"So, is that a yes? That you'll go with me?"

"Well I didn't tell you no, did I?"

As promised it was around 5:45 in the morning when you pulled up to the airport to see Jack already waiting for you.

You had barely gotten any sleep the night before between how excited you were, how much you missed him, and worrying about finishing the designs for your boutique.

Once the car came to a complete stop, the driver opened the door for you and while he was getting your bags out of the trunk to load onto the plane, you ran full force into Jack with him catching you and your legs immediately went around his waist.

“Did someone miss me?” He curiously asked while kissing the top of your head.

“Ehh, I mean I guess I missed you.” You responded as he placed you back down on your feet and began to play with your braids. 

“Wait, you guess? After all that I went through to plan this shit for you? YOU GUESS?”

“Of course I missed you J, now where are we going?” You asked as you began to climb the steps of the private jet with him right behind you. 

“Did you bring what I asked you to bring?” Jack asked while eyeing you as the two of you were now seated next to each other.

“If it’s the purple lingerie set that we’re talking about, I’m actually wearing it right now.”

“Good girl. You’ll see when we get there.”

The two of you were now in Paris near the Eiffel tower having a candlelit dinner for your next to last night in Paris and you were in absolute awe of how much he went through to be able to do this for you and were thankful that he takes initiative to be able to spend as much time with you as he possibly can. 

Tonight had to be the night that he was going to do it.

It only made sense right?

He had to ask you to be his girlfriend at this point, because nothing else would make sense.

Him flying you to Paris?

Having dinner near the Eiffel tower?

Putting you in one of the most expensive hotels in the city?

And not to mention him fucking your brains out ever since the two of you touched down with no end in sight. 

The purple lingerie set definitely came in handy. 

I mean this was one hell of a first date if it could be considered one, but you were definitely convinced that it was.

“J, thank you for this.” You said while sipping on your red wine and he simply looked up at you and smiled.

“Anything for my girl, you know that. I know that this is one of your favorite places in the world and I remember you telling me how you really never get a chance to enjoy it because usually when you come here, you’re working so I decided to bring you when I knew for a fact you wouldn’t be working at all. Only work you’re allowed to put in is on this dick.”

“Way to ruin the mood, Jackman.”

“What?! I was just saying! And do you know that I don’t let anyone call me Jackman, but you? Besides my mom of course, but I just love the way my name sounds when you say it.”

“Really? I didn’t know that.”

“Well, yeah. You’re special to me.” Jack replied while shrugging and turning red at the same time. 

“And you’ve definitely shown that to me this week, and all the time really now that I think about it.”

“And I wanted to ask you something.”

“Of course, anything.” You answered as your heart started to race.

This had to be it, it just had to be. 

“I just don’t know how you’re going to take it.” Jack said while scratching the back of his neck, clearly nervous.

“Babe, just ask me.”

“Would you be in charge of designing my wardrobe when I go on tour?”

What.the.actual.fuck.

“Wait, what?”

“Only because I know you have so much to do already, but I wanted you to come on tour with me! I can’t go that long without seeing you or having you near me.”

“Oh.” You said in defeat and now decided to pick up your fork and play with your dessert and trying not to break down in tears in front of him.

“Just think about it, baby. No pressure, but I would love to have you with me. And you already know how much PG adores you.”

“I’ll think about it.” You quietly said and Jack immediately noticed a change in your demeanor.

“Okay, just let me know. Oh and one more thing.”

Jack simply pulled out a box that had Cartier written on it and placed it in front of you and all you did was stare at it.

“What are you waiting for baby? Go ahead and open it.”

You did as you were told and slowly opened it up to see that it was a bracelet.

But not just any bracelet.

It was THE bracelet that you had told Jack you had wanted, but never got around to actually buying it yourself.

“Jack…”

“Do you like it? Here let me put it on for you.” He said while taking it from you to help you put it on.

It was taking everything in you in that moment to not rip it off and throw it into his face.

“You’re my person, Y/N, and don’t you ever forget that. You ready to get out of here?”

You forced a small smile and quickly nodded.

You needed to get away from him.

As soon as possible. 

This had gone on long enough and you were tired of feeling like you weren’t good enough for him.

The ride back to the hotel was awkwardly silent and Jack knew that there was something wrong, but he couldn’t quite pinpoint what it could actually be. 

He finally cornered you in the master bedroom of the suite that you two were staying in and wanted an answer.

“Babe? What’s wrong? Something’s off.”

“You just wouldn’t understand.”

“Why wouldn’t I understand? Where is this coming from?”

“Jack,  drop it and I mean it.”

“Something is wrong with my girl and I’m not dropping it until she tells me why.” He answered before turning you around to face him.

All you did was look down and Jack quickly put his finger under your chin for you to look up at him.

“I’m tired of not being good enough.” You quietly whispered not being able to hold it in any longer.

“What? What do you mean? Good enough for who? You are more than enough.”

“Obviously not for you.”

Jack wasn’t expecting that for an answer and was now looking at you confused.

“For me?”

“Don’t play dumb because I do not have the patience for it tonight.” You said while turning around and continuing to pack your bag.

“I’m not playing dumb, but why would you say that?!”

“Jackman, you literally do everything as if we’re in a relationship. Down to the gifts, you buying me a car no matter how much I wanted for you to return it, you fuck me whenever you feel like it, fly me out to wherever you are in the world and you literally just gave me a key to your house. And now apparently instead of flying me to Paris in order for you to ask me to be your girlfriend, I get a bracelet and you asking for me to go on tour with you instead. All while still not being able to call myself your girlfriend. You just take and take and take from me and I allow it! I follow you anywhere like a lost puppy! You don’t see any problem with that?”

“Where is this coming from because the last time I checked, you were okay with it.”

“When was the last time you checked? Because I honestly don’t ever remember you asking me.”

“And you’re just saying something now? We’ve known each other for almost TWO years!”

“And that’s all you have to say? You constantly make me feel like I’m not good enough and that I’m a placeholder for your actual wife because you even said it yourself.”

“NO I DIDN’T!”

“BUT IT WAS IMPLIED!”

“Y/N.. just I can’t have a girlfriend right now.”

“But you can have me, who is basically your girlfriend without the title? I’VE MET YOUR PARENTS AND YOUR GRANDPARENTS. WHO DOES THAT FOR SOMEONE WHO THEY DON’T PLAN  ON BEING WITH?!”

“I….”

“And now you don’t even have an answer because you never intended on making me your girlfriend in the first place. Even if you led me to believe that you were. You cut everyone off for me and it’s like for what? You might as well call them back because whatever this is, it’s over and done with. You’re not going to play me anymore.”

“No one is even playing you! You knew this shit from the beginning and how it would be!”

“Jack, you don’t have to worry about me so here’s your key back. And do me a favor. Don’t call me for the rest of your life and I hope that you find your wife wherever she may be.”

“Y/N… you don’t mean that. You…. don’t do this.”

“You don’t love me so why do you even care if I walk out of your life?”

“I DO LOVE YOU!”

“BUT NOT THE WAY THAT I FUCKING LOVE YOU SO I DON’T WANT TO HEAR IT! I’M DONE, I’M DONE WITH THIS SHIT! I DESERVE BETTER!” You were now crying and Jack was trying to embrace you, but you immediately pushed him away.

“No, I’m not getting roped back in so don’t even touch me.”

“Y/N, you’re crying.”

“BECAUSE OF YOU!”

“Y/N, I just need more time. We’ll do this, we’ll do it all. Be in a relationship and everyone will know about it.”

You simply wiped your eyes with the back of your hand even though they were still steadily streaming down your face.

“No, don’t try to save face now and try to make it right. I meant it when I said I was done. Don’t give me any handouts. I want someone to love me for me and love me outloud and not be afraid to show it. I have never seen someone so scared of commitment like you are. I’m not innocent in this either, however, I realized that I deserve more.” You said as you closed your suitcase and was making your way towards the door.

“I CAN’T FUCKING LIVE WITHOUT YOU AND YOU KNOW THAT!”

“You lived without me for 22 years. I’m sure you’ll find a way to fill the void.”

“Y/N please. I don’t know what I’m going to do if you walk out that door and never talk to me again.” Jack pleaded with you with actual tears in his eyes.

“You’re Jack Harlow. You’ll find another bitch to keep your bed warm at night.”

“But she won’t be you!”

“And you’re damn right about that. Maybe now I can actually look for my husband, wherever he may be.”

“Let’s just sleep on this and we’ll talk about it again in the morning.” Jack said while trying to come closer to you but you immediately backed up. 

“Jack, I made myself pretty clear. The answer is no.”

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[halfdeadfullgay]

404 - Title Not Found (part/chapter 3)

Part 1 - Tumblr Part 2 - Tumblr

Ao3

Summary: Jason was expecting the gala to be boring like always but is pleasantly surprised when it isn’t.

Danny meant it as a joke but Fenton luck always strikes. At least he gets an excuse to talk to the cute guy he gave quarters to.

AN: As always this is crack, this is a whole crack fic; and I play fast and loose with DC&DP cannon. Ignore any out of character writing(mainly Vlad and Bruce).

Kinda/slow Vlad redemption, kinda like a shitty uncle that you get along with sometimes.

Danny and Jason don’t know each other’s names for a bit so they refer to each other as:

Danny - Quarter Guy

Jason - Laundry Guy

Enjoy the crack! :)

Jason immediately knew that the other wasn’t from Gotham. No one just offered anything without an immediate confirmation that they would get something in return. At least that’s how it was in Crime Alley. He and the other held small talk while they were doing their laundry.

“You just offer quarters to people?” He said sarcastically only to have an actual answer in return. “Only the cute people.” The other said with a somewhat joking tone.

“Uh huh. What’s ya name? I didn’t catch it.” Jason wouldn’t directly admit but this guy had peaked his interest even more.

“Well, I didn’t throw.” The guy answered with a smile that felt sarcastic with just a bit of wanting chaos.

The topic changed to other things. He learned that quarter guy had moved to Crime Alley awhile back, he didn’t give a clear reason why; “Just thought it’d be a good change of pace.”

He also learned that Quarter Guy was going to some kind of event with his godfather; saying that even though he agreed to go, he could still complain. And god did he complain but nothing sounded too bad. “He’s just a fruitloop, I wouldn’t doubt him trying to use me to get secrets from the other people.”

Jason didn’t share any too personal information; besides it just out of sceret identity and such but it would also feel weird to. Jason did complain about how he was more or less forced into agreeing to go to the Wayne gala, only not sharing that it was a gala or that it was a Wayne event.

“Maybe we end up at the same event.” Quater guy, who still didn’t tell Jason his name, joked. His laundry had been done before his own. Quarter guy left with a smile that only made him want to figure out why he felt familiarly even more. Jason was more curious about this guy than before but decided to hold off on figuring out more about it.

—

It was just meant as a joke. Danny really did mean as a joke but just his fucking luck(or honestly he was expecting CW to be the cause in some way), he was now looking at the guy he gave quarters to a day or two pior. He was standing next to the snack table, avoiding Vlad so he didn’t have to worry about talking to other rich people he didn’t trust. The snacks didn’t look good in any sense of the word, why did he expect rich people to know what good snacks look and taste like.

He was thinking about texting Sam to complain, knowing that she would say I told you so but that when he noticed the guy from his apartment building was there. It took a second to recgionze him since he seemed more put together and dressed nicer, but it was him. Danny wouldn’t have questioned it too much if the guy wasn’t standing next to Bruce Wayne but he was. Danny didn’t need to know any more rich people but life(or probably CW) had other plans.

He noticed that the guy hadn’t seemed to see him yet. Danny moved away from the snack table, going opposite from Wayne and the laundry guy; mainly focusing on staying hidden but a voice called him. “Danỉ͔͖̜͌ẹ̿͋̒̕l̙͖̑̾ͣ!” It wasn’t loud, at least it wasn’t to humans. It had just enough of a hint of ghost speak to have Danny turn to look. Of course when he had his back turned, Vlad had to go and speak to Bruce Wayne. “Come over, I’ve hardly seen you since we’ve arrived.”

Danny held back a sigh and eye roll as he went over to Vlad and Wayne; which also meant laundry guy. He had felt Wayne’s eyes on him as he went over, laundry guy hadn’t seemed to notice or frankly care enough to look. He looked at Bruce. He knew of “Brucie” Wayne and had wondered if it was just a persona like when Vlad used to pretend to be niceish to his dad. He side eyed laundry guy, who didn’t look at him at all.

“You didn’t tell me you had a so-“ Bruce started with a hint of curiosity. Danny was quick to cut him off. “He didn’t because I’m not.” That’s what finally got laundry guy’s attention, he looked at Danny for a second and Danny already knew that he recognized him. “Daniel, that was rude.” Vlad looked at him before going back to Bruce. “I apologize for him but he is right. He’s my godson.” Vlad said, leaving it to Danny to introduce himself.

“Yes, I do apologize for cutting you off like that.” Danny started. He used the tone he would use with some of the ghost nobles. It was a bit forced but relatively kind. He’d hate to admit and never would out loud but he learned it from Vlad. “It’s alright, I understand how words hold meaning.” He noticed how it sounded more real than “Brucie” usually did.

He just nodded before continuing, “Okay. I’ll introduce myself before Vlad tries to.” Danny made his tone sound just a bit joking. He felt laundry guy’s full attention on him. He smiled, a little fake and a little smug. “I’m Danny Fenton and as Vlad said, I am his godson.”

There was some “good to meet you”s exchanged. Danny picked up on the fact that Bruce nudged Laundry Guy to introduce himself.

—

Jason didn’t like Vlad Masters at all. He was creepy, all around weird and untrustworthy. He had only seen him a few times before, spoke to him barely unless with Bruce but something was off now. There was a strange feeling of paranoia around Vlad that he couldn’t place. Even with all his training from the Bat.

He had been staying relatively close to Bruce, not wanting to deal with questions or the other people which Bruce seemed to respect. He had noticed that Bruce had been trying to be better or very least trying to understand his perspective. It was something, it was better than nothing.

Jason had held back a groan as soon as he saw Vlad approach him and (mainly) Bruce. He tuned out most of everything, just looking at the other people around them. It was like every other time Bruce was stopped by another billionaire. Just stand there, vaguely pay attention and look at the crowd of other people. That’s how it was going until he heard Vlad call out to someone else.

“Danỉ͔͖̜͌ẹ̿͋̒̕l̙͖̑̾ͣ!“ He heard Vald call out to someone else. it sounded off, not by a lot but still. He didn’t show a reaction outside of paying more attention. He noticed Bruce didn’t show any slight reaction which was expected. Jason still didn’t care enough to fully look up at whoever Vlad had called over until Bruce had started talking and was immediately cut off.

Jason had recognized the voice right off the bat. He looked up and saw Quarter Guy or as he introduced himself, Danny. It was obvious that the other recognized him as well but spoke as if he didn’t. He thought of when he talked to him while doing laundry and how he joked about them going to the same event. He heard formalities go around when felt Bruce nudge him. A signal to introduce himself.

He faced Danny, taking note of how he acted like they hadn’t met and he decided to go along with it. “Jason. Nice meeting ya.” He said with a similar smile that Bruice Wayne was known for but each bat kid had their own distinct version of it. “Nice to meet you as well.” Danny said with his own smile, he noticed that it was a mix between genuine and fake.

Jason noticed how different the other acted compared to when they talked a few days prior. He took note of how he was not as talkative or sarcastic and just had a small sense of fakeness about him. It wasn’t out of the ordinary for people to have a more or less fake personas at galas but he found it interesting how the other did a complete 180.

“So Danny, this your first gala?” Jason asked. A bit genuinely curious and also since he knew Bruce would ask him at some point. Danny looked at Vlad for a split second before answering. It seemed like silent communication. “No and yes. I’ve been to a few before but this is the first one I’ve been to in Gotham.” He had kept the smile as he explained. “Vlad has dragged me to some all over. Although I mainly attend the few that are held in my hometown.”

Yeah, he was definitely lying about something. It was easy to guess especially when Danny looked at Vlad before he had answered. He didn’t outwardly question it or look at Bruce to see if he noticed it too, of course he had; world’s greatest detective or whatever.

“Well we’re glad that you decided to attend tonight.” Bruce spoke, or well Brucie did. Some of the others had personas similar to the Brucie one but Jason didn’t. He didn’t feel like he needed one especially after coming back. “How about Jason and you go off and do your own thing while I speak business with Vlad?”

Jason looked at Bruce for a second, they both knew something was sketchy with Vlad and instead of including him in getting more info on him, Bruce was pushing him off to Danny. Not that he was complaining but still. He looked at Danny for his response.

—

Danny looked at Vlad, a bit surprised that Vlad wasn’t one to suggest that although he would’ve been suggesting it as a way to get information against competition. Vlad just gave a nod to him, Danny held back a sign knowing that Vlad would still use it as an opportunity for that. “Sure, why not? Still getting used to the city and all.”

And with that, he was led away by Jason. He could already hear Vlad scheming. At least he would be the only ghost he’d have to deal with. Hopefully, he didn’t want to jinx himself. He just let Jason drag him away from Bruce and Vald, not really caring where they went.

They finally stopped in a more quiet corner of the gala room. It was less bright with less people which Danny was grateful for. He had attended more ghost galas than human ones. So the loudness that came with human ones was still newish to him.

“So, I guess we really did end up at the same event.” Jason said with a smug grin. Hopefully just making it known that he said it as a joke would make it seem as a crazy coincidence and not too weird.

Danny gave him a sheepish smile, “I swear I meant it as a joke.”

#cross posted on ao3 #fanfic #dpxdc #dcxdp #danny phantom #ghost king danny #dead on main #jason todd #red hood #crack fic #crack treated seriously #404 - title not found

[alannybunnue]

Ok, Imagine: Muzan Kibutsuji with a Wife

Don't question it, ya'll asked for this

But i doubt you imagine something like this...Anyway, enjoy my nonsense :3

[THERE MIGHT BE TRIGGERS WARNINGS, SO BEWARE]

The Demon Queen

= The Backstory =

(I get it, the title is not original, but it makes more sense than anything)

So Muzan is a arrogant little shit and everyone knows it.

But imagine him being married to a unbreakable sunshine

So everything began 1000 years before the main events, in the Heian Era, when Muzan was still a human.

Political marriages were pretty common back then, so you may be asking "Who in their sane minds would marry their daughter to a man on the brink of death?!" Well, our dear reader's shitty parents :3 (Which technically...her mother is me 0-0)

It obviously wasn't a very enjoyable marriage, especially with Muzan's depressing and negative personality, but his wife never change her demeanor, it didn't matter how many times he would cuss at her, she remained at his side everytime with kind smile on her face.

Muzan honestly saw her as a stupid woman who settled down for a impossible dream (Which was them living a normal married life)

So in his mind, he couldn't understand what made her stay with him day and night, waiting for the moment he somehow would be cured from his disease.

She even kept her mouth shut when he killed that Doctor :|

...But then he began to change

And it wasn't impossible to notice, he seemed more energetic, didn't stayed in bed all day like before.

However, he no longer stayed away for shades, his poor wife only found Muzan where the Sun couldn't touch him.

Which made her confused to the extreme, and the poor thing couldn't handle curiosity for long, even if her bitch of a husband wouldn't say a thing...until that one night.

At first, Muzan was going to kill her, at least he was, until she saw him walking towards her normally and became extremely emotional, and went up to her husband and hugged like her life depended on it. (No, she didn't notice the bodies nor the blood)

And as annoying as that would be to the Demon King, he indulged on it for a while, until his brain began to work and he remembered all the times this woman stayed by his side when he was at his worse.

So he transformed her :)

= Muzan as a Yandere + Some details =

One thing that must be made clear, is the detail that Muzan is not in love, he sees his darling more of a living possession than someone he is infatuated with. Using her ultimate devotion for his mere benefit.

Of course, the other reason is because he is already used to his wife's shiny personality and having to look for another woman to disguise himself among humans is too much work.

And yes, after some centuries, he begins to feel bothered whenever she isn't around him, or whenever someone else is with close to his wife.

But that isn't love! It's more like if another child stole his favorite toy.

Surely enough, he won't punish the poor woman too much, she is naive, he knows that...so giving her the silent treatment is enough to make the bubbly sweetheart cling onto him for attention. It still annoys him? Yes. But does he also finds it endearing? Also yes.

Now, does she sees his cruelty and lack of empathy? Yes, however, she is now a demon, she lived centuries with her husband telling her not to mind what they do to humans, nowadays she just can only focus on how much she loves him (My child, wtf-)

Now with demons...it's another story, you see, since she was a human, she always wanted children, but considering the man she got married to...yeah, that was impossible :D

So in her mind, the demons are her children, so whenever Muzan is agressive with them...she is really upset (Let's not comment about when he killed the Lower Moons...my baby cried all night) However, she doesn't say anything, because she can't.

Whenever Muzan can't stay with his wife, he only trusts two demons to take care of her properly

Yeah that's right, Mister Six Eyes and Basketball Man, Kokushibo and Akaza

Both are the most responsible in the group anyway, so they are more than enough to keep the woman in one place...

...But they don't stop her when she wants to stay with others too, except Akaza when she wants to visit Douma.

And Muzan can't complain much, cuz she is safe and sound when he returns, so why bother? (Or that is what she tells him, so he won't lash out on her kids •-•)

So in resume, Muzan is a bitch to everyone but his sunshine wife, but he is not in love- Or that is what he tells himself? :)

〓〓〓〓〓〓〓〓〓〓〓〓〓〓〓〓〓〓〓〓〓〓〓〓〓〓〓〓〓〓〓

A/N: This honestly is kinda funny and cute somehow?? Muzan is one of the characters that i most despise and i still gave him a Wife...and i gave the Demons a Mom. Hope y'all enjoyed

#demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba #muzan kibutsuji #muzan jackson #yandere concept #yandere x reader #yandere imagine #wife!demon!reader

[toomanyideasandfandoms]

Okay okay okay so I have a VERY hot take...

I don't think the Sovereigns would like the creator. Cuz like it's more likely that the creator is the one that made humans, not the dragons before it. Because why would you create the dragons, and then later on just throw away the idea and push the dragons away when you could have created another planet to put the humans on instead, right?

Neuvi is the exception because he was reborn off on a human body and is technically created by the creator. HOWEVER, imagine that it's the dragon's authority that helps Neuvi realize the creator is the real deal. Like sure, the subtle power that they notice from the creator is there, but like with the authority itself (and being in tune with it as much as he would be when he obtains it), it would be MUCH more obvious.

That brings up the question as to why the archons aren't able to tell, and that's because of their own mind blocking it. How most people work is that whenever they think something is true, it takes a LOT to be able to like change their mind on something if they were wrong. So imagine that they hear of the impostor going around, but whenever they meet them, they feel that power and that pull. But because they've conditioned themselves to think of them as the impostor and not the actual creator, they stay stubborn and just push off that doubt in their minds.

Y'know who wouldn't be like that? FOCALORS (and Nahida cuz Irminsul). Think about it, she barely hears about any sort of like rumors or any badmouthin the cause she's been inside the Oritrice, and because she is made out of water (Oceanid stuff), they're more in tune with the authority. So without that block, they can tell right away during the trial on the "impostor" that they are in fact the real creator, which is why it will ALWAYS say they are innocent, no matter what.

Anyways, kinda went off on a tangent there sorry-

🍌anon

See this is where I ended up deep diving in the wiki by accident at one point that caused me to have this big brain moment.

So we know the Primordial One exists right? This is a canon god that created humans after essentially taking over Teyvat with the Heavenly Principles. That's canon.

So if the Primordial One is already canonically the one who created our characters (essentially)...what the fuck did our creator create?

My answer, Teyvat itself of course. But also the dragon Sovereigns themselves.

But I can already hear you asking, then how did we get to the modern canon of gods? Simple, Teyvat itself is an entity that can control and influence the elements, albeit very little. And with that influence the Heavenly Principles can't fully erase the authority of the creator, instead they rewrite history to favor them.

Saying the Dragons grew tired of being under the creator and chose to rebel, causing the creator to summon the Primordial One (which causes the creator to gain the title of Primordial Mother) to gain aid from. Then we essentially have our original canon mythos that's in the game itself. Essentially it's the same as with any history, written by the victors instead of what the full truth is.

And for why the archons can't recognize the creator is simply because the Heavenly Principles just won't allow them to. Because they've stolen (or attempted to for eons) the authority from the creator.

And here's my own hot take when it comes to the role of the Heavenly Principles, they aren't the creator's friend. They're more like a parasite that's trying to take over what the creator had originally made. Though the reasons I haven't fully thought up honestly. Could be jealousy, a twisted version of obsession, honestly it's up in the air for now.

But I like your hot take! Honestly most aus I've seen where the Heavenly Principles are on the creator's side would fit this very well. Actually it would be interesting if someone did an au where the isekaied protagonist is the reincarnation of the Primordial One and has to deal with the fact that they are trapped in Fontaine because the rage the Hydro Sovereign has would keep them there for all eternity just so he could enact justice on their past life's actions.

#sagau #genshin sagau #others ideas #🍌 anon #hope this doesnt feel like i was arguing #or that i was being condensing somehow #just thought it was a good opportunity to explain what i remember reading #and how it fit with my au #fhekdjfk

[hentyehottie]

i am so upset. we’ve been moots for like a month now and i haven’t come to throw some filth in your ask box yet 😩 buT it’s not too late!

alsO hI miya it’s nice to officially greet you 👉🏾👈🏾 i’m glad you enjoyed reading warm bodies! how are ya?

clears throat this is so long and i’m sorry but i like to ramble when i have ideas

So, I was lowkey just scrolling through your blog (i need to read more of your tasty ass work fr fr) and I noticed you reblogged a short fic about villian Kiribaku… A concept that has been untouched by my brain and was probably for good reason because now all I can think about is Red Riot the hardening villain who uses unbreakable to strike fear into civilians, heroes, and villains who dare to threaten his authority. Red Riot the villain is fucking huge and bulky and still has a smile of sunshine but a heart darkened by a selfish society. He honestly gives me Pain vibes, and idk if you’ve ever watched The Boys but I think he’d fit in perfectly with them, he definitely wants to kill heroes who don’t deserve to be called heroes.

Red Riot is very meticulous about the crimes he commits but there is one thing for sure— he loves a good fight. Doesn’t matter where the fight is or when it is, if there’s a fight brewin’ he’ll be there to find it. Also, random fact, he likes rocks soooo… he robs a lot of jewelry stores when he wants to add to his collection or he goes “shopping” at museums.

For example, big boy Riot has left the headquarters in search of a way to get his knuckles bloody, cruising around, looking for a hero to pick a fight with. Listen, even he’s got standards. He’s murdered a couple of people but never innocent ones, only heroes that don’t deserve their titles. And for that, he’s wanted by the Japanese government… Why’s he still walkin’ around like he’s some regular civilian though? I don’t even know. But… oh! Look at that, a hero.

The name of this hero doesn’t matter, he’ll scrapbook it later. A grin spreads across the villains face, a set of razor sharp teeth reveal themselves as he begins to approach the unsuspecting hero, following them to a more secluded part of the city to minimize witnesses as well as collateral damage.

This particular hero has quite a destructive quirk, so it’s truly no surprise that as soon as Red Riot attacks him, the hero begins to lay in blows that aren’t held back in the least. Indiscriminate waves of the disastrous quirk, that Red Riot easily dodges or blocks, cause nearly irreversible damage to nearby buildings, which no-doubt is putting civilians in even more danger than Red Riot’s presence alone. This is exactly /why/ he does the things that he does. With just one stupid fucking test, anyone could become a hero, even psychopaths like this.

As the hero is attempting to knock Red Riot down, the redhead villian doesn’t halter in anyway, getting closer and closer to the hero that looks like their about to shit their pants right in the alley. He’s nearly a foot away from the hero when he hears a blood-curdling scream that appears to be coming from above. He takes a moment to glance up and sees a woman plummeting to her death from the destroyed building that was just beside the alley. Then he looked back at the hero to see if he would do anything.

No. He was far too busy trying to keep his own ass safe. And for some reason, that pissed him off beyond comparison. He’d been holding back since the fight began, giving the hero a chance to defend himself, but it appeared time was running out. Hardening his fist, he aimed a blow directly to the hero’s face, satisfied with the sickening sound of flesh and bone breaking from the heavy punch, and watched the hero fly back into a pile of garbage bags, deserved.

With the screaming come closer and closer to where he was, Red Riot used the debris of the crumbling building to propel himself upwards and easily captured the woman who’d been falling, only then taking note of the bundle of life that she had protectively curled over. As they approached the ground, he hardened his legs and landed with ease, causing quite an indent in the earth.

While she’d been falling, hero eyes remained shut the entire time, but when she stopped falling, suddenly becoming hyper aware of her surroundings and the big strong arms that were wrapped around her rather protectively, she slowly opened one eye to take a peek at her savior.

In all his glory stood the infamous new Hero Killer, staring down at her with an arched brow on his handsome yet rugged face. The childhood scar on his eyelid had somewhat faded but fresh scars had been added to his face, a few nicks on his chin, cheek, and forehead, but they didn’t take away from his handsome appearance. He’d been wearing a red sleeveless hoodie, that showed off his muscular arms and a sleeve of ink that started from his right wrist, up the entirety of his arm, and disappeared under the hoodie no-doubt covering his right pec with a decorative tattoo, along with some plain black cargo shorts. His hair was spiked in the front and the rest flowed down his back in a mullet of sorts. She hadn’t realized she bad been silently staring at him in awe until he cleared his throat, asking if she was alright. Weirdly enough, she felt comfortable enough to answer him honestly, along with thanking him for saving her life. Unexpectedly, a cocky grin spread across his face and an idea came to mind.

“I’ve got other ways you can thank me, lil’ diamond.”

Next thing she knows, Red Riot aka Hero Killer 2.0 is mumbling some name that starts with a ‘K’ and a portal of purple smoke suddenly forms beside them out of thin air. Poor girl is basically kidnapped right then and there, but who woulda thunk Red Riot wanted a reward for taking down another hero and that reward just happened to be the lil’ milf who’d just dropped from the sky (or destroyed apartment building more specifically).

Don’t worry though, he may be a villain but he’s sweet and kind when he wants to be. And that includes taking care of you and your kid. Just like any normal abductee you question this motives and why’s he suddenly taken you from your home. He easily corrects you, saying that your home no longer existed and it was the manly thing to do to offer his surface to provide for you until you were able to get back on your feet.

(insert that one Soulja Boy audio where he says ‘HUH?!’ hella loud)

Why in the flying fuck would this man offer to take care of you? He had to have some kind of objective. But… to your surprise, he didn’t. In fact, you were free to leave whenever you wanted, and he made that clear.

Much to your surprise, Red Riot didn’t live in the LoV headquarters, he lived by himself in his own lil’ cabin in the woods that could easily fit a family or two. It was strange. You were thankful that he saved you and your baby’s life, but he was still a villain. A really, really handsome one at that. After his oh-so-caring suggestion, he mentioned if you wanted him to he would drive you back to the city and drop you off wherever you wanted to go. You dunno how it happened exactly but he’d been holding your baby while he was speaking to you, rocking the sleeping infant in his arms like he was their biological father. How was this man so fucking charismatic and sweet to you? He HAD to have some kind of ulterior motive.

Spoiler alert: yes, yes he did, but not the one you would expect from him.

Y’see… he’s always wanted a family. And here you were, dropped right into arms for the taking, and you didn’t seem to want to leave anytime soon, so he was going to use this opportunity.

A day turned into a week, a week turned into a month. And just as he promised, he took you out the house whenever you wanted and asked you each and every time if you wanted to be left in the city after your daily adventures (shopping and shit y’know, yes this man goes grocery shopping). But you always went back to his cabin with him, each and every time. Was this Stockholm Syndrome? No… couldn’t be, he openly told you to leave if you wanted to, then did that mean you were falling for the rugged mass-murdering villian? Looks that way.

As expected, the developing relationship between the three of you was not normal in the least, but it wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. He’d even introduced you to some of his buddies from LoV, only the ones he trusted tbh, and after that— you now had some willing and ready babysitters on call whenever you two needed.

Who wouldn’t abuse this opportunity? After some time convincing you, Red Riot, who had disclosed to you his real name was Eijirou Kirishima, managed to get you to go on a real date with him with just the two of you. And soooooo, ya did.

Who knew a villain could be so romantic? Certainly not you. He’d wined and dined you like his life depended on it and you were now putty in his hands. Perfect. The real games could begin.

He’s called a driver to take you both home and before you know it, Eijirou’s carrying you over the threshold like the two of you had just said ‘I Do.’

cracks knuckles

Now, this is where the real fun begins.

Red Riot, the hero-killing, tall, muscular, BDE, long-haired, thick-thighed, scarred, tattooed, smiling, thieving, hardening villain… has a breeding kink. And not just that, he’s got a big fucking dick that’s usually impressively hidden behind his usual wardrobe of loose fitting pants. But, you’ve seen him adjust himself more than a few times when he thinks you’re not paying attention, but you’re sure he just does it subconsciously without even realizing.

So there’s no real surprise when he’s dropped you onto your shared bed after a date and you can see the imprint of it through the black slacks he chose to wear. You coulda swore you saw the fuckin’ thing throbbin’ through the fabric but maybe your mind was playing tricks on you.

He’s now staring you down, noticing how your eyes have stayed glued to his crotch, with a timid look with some worry hidden behind your eyes. He grins and decides to have a little show for you. You’re struck back into reality when he suddenly grabs it, giving it a lil’ squeeze and a tug, causing your thighs to rub together in anticipation.

“No need to be nervous. It ain’t gonna hurt ya, baby. Promise.”

He purred, stroking his cock a few for times for you through his pants before moving his hands to start unbuttoning his shirt.

“Think you could strip for me, mamas? I like that dress on ya… Think I’d rip it to shreds if I tried to take it off.”

Sweet fuck, when’d you become so obedient???

Before you know it, you’re both naked and on top of the bed, not even bothering to get under the comforter or the sheets. Seems you two were impatient.

Eijirou was splayed out on his back, cock on fully display as it rested against his stomach that wasn’t exactly chiseled with abs, it was a lil’ squishy but the muscles in his arms and chest were hard to ignore. And would ya look at that, you were right, he did have a nagasode and hikae style tattoo with a dragon, flowers, and other symbols. His monstrous cock was almost teasing you with its ridiculous width and length, how was that going to fit in you? With its thick tanned shaft, and its fat brink pink circumcised tip that was dribbling precum despite being only half erect. The happy trail that led to a trimmed bush of onyx hair made you think about the hyped mane of hair on his head.

He’d decided to leave the gel out of his hair this evening so the bright crimson locks flowed in waves under his head… what kinda conditioner did this man use? Them locks shiny as a muhh’fucka- No, no, no, don’t get distracted.

Where were you?

He’d had you sitting on his chest, beckoning you to straddle his face with your thighs, and when you hesitated he took matters into his own hands and grabbed you by the hips, pulling you right onto his face.

Maybe I should have mentioned earlier that he’d got a forked tongue…? Y’know, the kinda tongue a snake has… He kinda got into a bit of body modification after dropping out of U.A.

And the way he uses his forked tongue on you is heavenly. So heavenly, that you nearly hunch over and run away from his skilled tongue, whining and whimpering his name, pathetically asking him to calm down and give you some time to adjust. The iron grip on your hips forces you stay right where he wants you, thick digits easily sinking themselves into your plush hips like memory foam. He’s absolutely ravishing you with the rapid fire motions of his tongue, writing out every Hiragana symbol in the charts, observing how you react to every trace of ever symbol. And when he draws out that one symbol, his tongue acting as a brush drenched in ink and your pussy acting as the paper, he notices the way you shudder and let out a guttural moan, clenching at his hair hard enough to make his scalp burn just a fraction— he smirks, abusing this new power.

ki ki ki ki ki ki ki ki ki ki ki ki.

Ironically, the symbol that makes you shudder and silently scream sounds a bit like laughter, and laughter you shall receive. It is the best medicine after all.

Abusing this particular symbol, it is no surprise that the hardening villian soon rips an orgasm right out of your body, the searing heat that builds up inside you releasing into his mouth as you squeeze his head between your thick thighs.

Easily, Eijirou laps up your sweet nectar while groaning about how sweet and delectable you are, and gives you a moment to collect yourself, hearing the sweet pants and huffs that escape you as he rubs comforting circles onto your hips. That won’t last long, however.

“Think ya can cum on my tongue a few more times, lovely? Gotta make sure you’re slippery enough to bounce on my cock a lil’ later after all, hm? Be a good girl f’me, ya know ya can.”

my bad, my bad… went a lil’ crazy on this one 🧍 do with this as you please, aLsO i had an urge to draW hIm but i haven’t colored the lineart yet 😩 ill show ya when im doNe

You’ve been reduced to nothing but a whining, whimpering mess on the redhead’s tongue. He’s flipped and twisted your aching body so many times to get you in the perfect position, but nothing beats that good ole spread eagle.

Your hero turned villainous lover has both of those big hands holding you wide open for him, fingertips sunk into your plush flesh.

One knee is flush against the bed, the other is up against your chest, leaving nothing hidden from his fiery gaze. Your pretty pussy is his to abuse, at the mercy of that dexterous tongue and those razor sharp teeth.

Your moans and sounds are so cute to him, so pretty he wants nothing more than to keep fucking you on that long tongue.

You peer down at the beast between your thighs and the sight has you immediately tossing your head back, a breathy sigh passing through your lips.

Eijirou looks so precious—crimson eyes hooded and low, the thin sheen of your slick spread around his mouth while he licked and sucked you to another release.

‘Cu-cumming.’ Is how you’ll warn him before your pussy is creaming around that tongue again. You’re so sensitive, clit so swollen and red even the waft of his breath hurts.

But Eiji loves seeing you squirm, so much that he’s lathering your poor clit in spit, sucking the nub into his mouth just to hear you squeal as you claw at the sheets.

“Ei, p-please baby.” You’re begging, pleading for just an ounce of mercy from your lover’s tongue.

He raises his head to look up at you, or what’s left of you, granting a brief intermission as he flips you onto your belly.

He’s palming the fat of your ass, spreading you until he’s face to face with your delicious cunt and puckered asshole, his moistened lips curling up into a devilish smirk.

He loves this. He loves you and your perfect fucking pussy so much that tonight he plans on making you a mommy again. As soon as you cum for him one more time he plans to split you open and breed you.

“Just one more pretty girl, I promise.”

It’s nice to meet youuu, I love your work 🥺❤️Villian Kiri makes my pussy brain melt 🥹 I hate that it’s so short but I’m writing like 4 other one shots and my brain is a can of baked beans right now 😭

Hey bae, care to join us? @darkmajesty-xo

#kirishima smut #villain kirishima #kirishima x y/n #kirishima x you

[weirdkpopgirl]

Confidant | Jeno Imagine #9

Title: Confidant

Genre: Friends to lovers (kinda), angst

Warnings: mentions of alcohol and drinking

Word Count: ~1.7k

Author's Note: Although I feel selfish about it, I wrote this short story to express some feelings I've experienced lately. And I am not exactly proud of them; they make me wish I wasn't so sensitive. But if anyone can relate, I hope you like this. Thank you for reading ^ ^

° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 °𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ 

You hated college parties. The incessant music reverberated through the room, the spaces were always cramped with students abandoning their books for beer pong and casual hookups. They were always overstimulating, and they rapidly drained your already limited energy. The list went on.

Yet tonight, you found yourself wedged on a couch, squeezed between a couple making out and two girls engrossed in gossip. You weren’t quite sure how you ended up in the environment you loathed so much. But shame on you for letting Lee Donghyuck persuade you into coming to his supposedly “small” end of the semester party. You hadn’t even seen him since he answered the door.

A soft sigh escaped as you rose from your seat and made your way to the kitchen. Surprisingly, the space was relatively unoccupied when you arrived. Your eyes swept the counter in search of a beverage, only to find that all the options were alcoholic. Despite the temptation to drink on a night like this, you hesitated. The prospect of potentially regrettable actions while under the influence wasn’t something you were willing to risk, especially not in this setting.

“I swear—Lee Donghyuck,” you muttered under your breath, shutting the fridge with exasperation. 

Glancing at your phone for the time, you realized you had barely been there for an hour. Biting your lip, the notion of heading home flirted with your thoughts. You doubted anyone would even notice if you did.

Deciding to act on your thoughts, you left the kitchen and attempted to navigate through the dense crowd. Calling out “excuse me” proved futile with the passive voice you were using. Your mind went into panic mode as an inadvertent shove disrupted your balance, causing your feet to betray you.

Just as you were surrendering to gravity, a strong arm encircled your waist, preventing you from making a humiliating fall. Heart racing, you looked up in surprise and found yourself locking eyes with a man clad in a plain black hoodie and ripped jeans. A sense of reassurance washed over you, realizing you weren't the only one opting for a casual look amidst the sea of partygoers in your simple white long-sleeve and high-waisted pants.

“Careful there,” he said with a gentle smile, effortlessly pulling you back to your feet. The warm touch of his fingers pressing against your back lingered for a moment, the rescue feeling oddly cliché.

With widened eyes, his name slipped past your lips before you could fully register his presence. “Jeno, what are you doing here?”

The dark-haired male ran a hand through his hair, hesitating. “I—uh was just dropping off Jisung, because apparently the girl he’s been crushing on is here.”

“Oh, I see,” you nodded awkwardly, now understanding his laid-back attire. 

Jeno tilted his head, raising an eyebrow at you. “What about you? I never see you at these things.”

It was your turn to hesitate, feeling as though you’ve been caught red-handed. “Yeah, I was just leaving. Honestly, I don’t even know why I came here in the first place,” you admitted sheepishly.

Although Jeno didn’t know you incredibly well, he could sense an underlying unease in your words. Nonetheless, he hummed in understanding. A brief silence ensued before he retrieved his car keys from the pockets of his jeans.

“I can give you a ride back to your place, if you want,” he proposed nonchalantly.

You bit your lip in contemplation. Usually, you’d turn him down, not wanting to be a bother. However, considering it was past ten and your reluctance to walk home alone in the dark, his offer sounded tempting. 

“I’d appreciate that, thank you,” you said, hoping he could hear the sincerity in your voice.

So that’s how you found yourself heading out with Jeno. He held your hand so you wouldn’t get lost in the crowd, which you were grateful for. The next fifteen minutes in his car were peaceful as you and Jeno caught up. Despite being in the same friend group, it had been a while since you saw each other in person. Mainly because both of you were homebodies and rarely participated in group hangouts.

Jeno pushed the gear shift into park as he arrived near your apartment. But before you could thank him and leave, he seemed to have something on his mind.

“Can you tell me why you really went to that party now?” He asked, employing the gentlest tone any guy had ever used on you.

You gave him a confused look, prompting him to continue. “Come on, (Y/n). You and I both know that you usually steer clear of social events.”

“You’re right…I guess I was just looking for a distraction,” you confessed, leaning back against the car seat. Folding your hands in your lap, you cast your eyes downward.

Jeno observed as your eyes dropped to your folded hands, a blend of vulnerability and introspection clouded your gaze.

After a moment, he lowered the AUX and allowed his playlist to fade into the background. “Do you want to talk about it?” he asked, his tone filled with slight concern.

Your mouth opened to reply, but then closed again as you paused. While you weren’t typically one to open up about your problems, the weight on your shoulders had been feeling heavier these days. You also knew Jeno well enough to trust that he wouldn't judge you, even if you told him you were an alien from Mars.

“I’ve been kinda upset with my friend lately,” you began to explain slowly. “It’s like ever since she’s started dating, I’ve started to feel resentful. Honestly, I’m genuinely happy for her, and I understand being in a new relationship is fun. But practically all she talks about now is her boyfriend.”

Jeno nodded understandingly at what you were saying. “Yeah I get that, Jaemin was like that too when he started dating his girlfriend. People often forget who they are outside of relationships.”

“It’s so crazy how true that is,” you agreed. “And I guess I’ve been upset because it seems like she always wants to be with him now. Then whenever she invites me, I just end up third wheeling them.” 

“Have you told her how you feel?”

Guilt surfaced as you sank into your seat. “No…I can’t do that. It’d be so selfish of me to make her feel bad because of my stupid feelings.”

Jeno’s eyes softened at this. “Hey, your feelings aren’t selfish or stupid. It’s okay to be upset,” he affirmed.

“I hate that it’s bothering me so much,” you mumbled, looking down with a self-deprecating smile. “She’s happy, and I should be happy for her too.”

You glanced up when you felt the weight of his hand on your shoulder. “Your feelings are valid, and you shouldn’t downplay them. If it matters to you, then it matters. You don’t have to deal with them alone,” he said, catching you by surprise.

When did Jeno become so good at comforting people? You’ve only known the shy Jeno who was reserved around new people, but was often playful with those he was close to. Witnessing this caring side to him was a quality you didn’t often see in most of the men you knew.

As his words resonated, you gave the boy an appreciative smile. “Thank you for listening. I’m sorry to just throw all this on you.”

“You don’t have to apologize. I like listening to you talk,” he replied without thinking.

His remark caused you to raise an eyebrow suspiciously. “You like listening to me talk?”

Though it was dark out, you could vaguely discern a faint shade of pink tinting his cheeks. Internally, he cringed, realizing that what he said had come out a bit peculiar.

Realizing that he had been caught, Jeno sighed. “Okay, I kind of lied back there earlier about why I was at the party too.”

Feeling confused, you waited for him to continue. This wasn't exactly the direction you had anticipated the conversation taking.

“Actually,” Jeno admitted, his tone sheepish. “Donghyuck mentioned you were going to be there, and I thought…well, I wanted to see you.”

His confession brought a warm flutter to your heart, leaving you feeling genuinely flattered. So Jeno didn’t just come because Jisung wanted to see his crush, but he came to see you. No one had ever gone out of their way to see you in such a manner.

“Well, I'm grateful you did,” you said slowly, feeling a warm flush creeping up your cheeks. “My Friday night ended up being a lot better, thanks to you.”

Jeno smiled shyly, rubbing the back of his neck. “That’s a relief to hear. And, you know—if you ever want to talk or anything, I’m here.”

His words only further convinced you that Lee Jeno was truly a sweetheart. Despite the unexpected turn, you felt a newfound sense of comfort in his company. Smiling again, you adjusted the strap of your purse and placed your hand on the door handle.

“Thank you, Jeno. Drive back safely,” you expressed sincerely. 

Before stepping out of the car, you leaned over to give Jeno a peck on the cheek, catching him off guard. His eyes widened in surprise and a deeper shade of pink graced his cheeks as he processed the sweet gesture. Instantly flustered by your own actions, you mumbled a quick “good night,” before exiting.

With his heart pounding against his chest, he watched you hurry into your apartment. Smiling to himself, he whispered, “Good night, (Y/n).”

As Jeno slowly drove away, you lingered in his thoughts. Gently rubbing the area your lips touched, he couldn't help but contemplate how he should properly ask you out now. 

Back at home, you couldn’t stop thinking about him either. Lost in contemplation, you found yourself replaying moments from the night—the unexpected connection, the vulnerable conversation, the kiss on his cheek. A subtle smile played on your lips as you entertained the idea of what could blossom between you and him. 

What if this unexpected encounter led to something more meaningful? The idea seemed to brighten the corners of your room as you considered the possibilities the future might hold. Maybe Lee Jeno was the confidant you needed to be your perfect distraction.

° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 °𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ 

#nct dream #nctzen #czennie #kpop #nct dream imagines #jeno #nct #jeno x reader #nct dream angst #nct dream scenarios #jeno imagines #lee jeno #friends to lovers #nct dream x reader

[azulyrae]

❛ —— 𝐈𝐈𝐈 : The Knight.

azriel seemed to be as ruthless with his apprentices as he was with his opponents — and [name] learned soon enough that the title of an archeron did nothing to smooth his edges when it came to her training.

with their hours well-spent and words that lingered amidst the border between the intrinsic fear of vulnerability and the desperate urge for connection, azriel and [name] willingly started to entangle one another in the invisible web placed upon them by fate.

yet, their bond alone is not enough to displace their inner demons, and it is up to them both to establish how far they are willing to allow their secluded training period to take them.

the third chapter of onyx sword of sorrow.

check the original post to be aware of the trigger warnings.

azriel/fem!archeron sister. reader with mind control & the ability to shapeshift.

pinterest board / spotify playlist.

word-count: 7K.

“My bounty is as boundless as the sea, my love as deep; the more I give to thee, the more I have, for both are infinite.”

— Romeo and Juliet, William Shakespeare.

The scalding light of the midday Sun made the sweat pool on her nape and bind the light tissue of [Name]’s long-sleeved shirt to the skin underneath. Regardless of her panting, Azriel’s pace remained ruthless, as though the heat was of no bother when it came to his jogging. As she tried — and failed — to reach him, [Name] reminisced the night before, when the moon stood tall and proud in the night sky, and the breeze was refreshing and less erratic. 

Azriel had lost match after match, with [Name] cornering him at each and every strategy that he meant to engage in. Thirty — at best, thirty-five — movements on their part, and the Spymaster was left with a limited amount of choices: to surrender peacefully, or to try to postpone the inevitable and be predictably crushed. Five matches in with the morrow drawing close, [Name] noted that she scarcely had five questions of her own for him to answer. In order to have doubts regarding a person’s life and achievements, one needed to know the basics of the other, and [Name] refused to waste a single question — since she had battled with her wits and strategies to win her matches, — in a stupid inquiry such as what was his favorite food or weather. So, smug and malicious, she had suggested for them to engage in an unprecedented strand of chess: the quick chess. Their plays were less pondered, for their time to move their pieces were scarce, and, therefore, the mental space offered for a well-planned strategy and predictions was close to none. [Name] was sure that she would win yet another match, since her opponent had never engaged in a match of quick chess before, but her arrogance would be soon humbled, since Azriel began to win — round after round, match after match, — until they were tied: each one had the right to ask five questions, where the other was naturally obliged to answer honestly. 

Her competitive spirit and stubbornness muted all but the occurrences on the board as [Name] studied the pieces after a loss, guaranteeing that she would not commit the same error twice. Yet, despite her very efforts, it seemed as though Azriel had been expecting her every move, countering her every strategy, and she was left dumbfounded at the seemingly never-ending streak of defeats that unraveled right before her eyes. The male, however, seemed to have noticed — or either learned for that matter, — something about her during those matches, and his insight was surprising when, roughly four or five hours later, he expressed his thoughts at the table, while [Name] drank a warm cup of black coffee. 

“You were not exactly made for a full-blown sword fight,” he said it back then, and she raised an eyebrow, suddenly on edge.

“What is that supposed to mean?” [Name] had asked carefully, placing her mug on the wooden table.

“Close-ranged fights are chaotic, fast, erratic. They require quick thinking, the confidence that your body and muscles are prepared for the battle at hand: your brain and acts must be in perfect sync, otherwise your head will be sliced from your neck before you can raise your sword in a defensive stance, regardless of either your mind was capable of predicting that the was blow coming or not,” Azriel explained, stirring his porridge bowl. “Quick chess is a lot like it. The time to think is narrowed, and rather than to move a piece while thinking about a distant situation, you need to adapt with what you’re presented and create the best strategy possible with the very few seconds you’re offered. I’m a warrior, a soldier, those confrontations are second nature to me. You’re a strategist.”

“I never believed that to be a bad thing,” she bitterly answered, unsure of what to make of his precise comments.

“It isn’t,” Azriel countered, and [Name] nearly collapsed at the sight of his warm, hazel eyes landing on her face with such consideration. “Battles and wars are doomed without strategy. An army can’t expect to win without order and pre-established positioning, and you’re a fantastic strategist, [Name].”

She blushed, unable to tell whether it was over the sincere compliment, or the fact that he had voiced her name as though it was a natural thing; the sound of it on his tongue presenting itself as a dangerously addictive substance to her ears. Mayhap, she had blushed over both of those.

“You predicted the Mortal Queens’ plans, managed to help us destabilize the formation of Hybern’s army, and went as far as outwitting more experienced and older High-Lords and Generals.”

His praises seemed as though a precedent for a bitter truth, a low punch to her well-placed confidence. “But?”

“But, in a full-blown hand-to-hand battle, you would be useless.”

Azriel was brutal. His analytics were not once incorrect, and he rarely ever did try to sugarcoat his words. He strived for excellence in his students, that much was clear, and she doubted that the Spymaster would take it easy on her merely because she was the older sister of his High-Lady. Unaware of her grim reaction — or not caring about it whatsoever, — Azriel continued.

“Shifting into whichever being you desire and going as far as masking your scent is an incredibly useful ability. That, combined with your commanding voice and the strength granted by the body of a High-Fae is—”

“Catastrophic,” she intervened then, taking a sip of her coffee.

“Incredible,” he corrected, his voice slightly softer. “But mortals as well as faes are well aware of our strength and how to counter it. Faebane, ash-made weaponry: those are threats none of us is immune to.”

[Name] stirred her own porridge, grimacing at the dull taste once the spoon met her lips. “Which means, I will need to learn how to handle myself without those abilities.”

He grinned. “Scared?”

“Excited,” she had corrected. “I’m not used to magic, as you pointed it out. And to be fair, I’d rather never grow to rely on it either.”

[Name] thought she had covered the bitterness in her tone well enough. However, Azriel creased his forehead and tilted his head to the side with curiosity, scanning her features for further understanding. “Why?”

“Is that a chess-question?”

“A chess-question?”

“Yes,” another spoonful of porridge and she was done, grimacing just as much as before. “The question we earned through a victory in chess, whose answer is mandatory and must be sincere.”

Azriel crossed his arms against his chest, and it took her every ounce of focus in her nerves not to stare at the flexed muscles. “Well, then yes. That was a chess-question.”

“I like getting my hands dirty,” she answered him immediately. “I have never once agreed to hiring a maiden to do my tasks. I have learned how to cook; how to tidy my clothes; how to read and write so that I could send my own letters; I remember going as far as learning how to draw my own prototypes of ships, so that I would not need to rely on external brands once my father passed down his legacy to me. I remember refusing further aid as soon as I learned something — whether it was politics, to lie, to tell a seasoning from another by the scent, and many others.”

[Name] stopped for a second, her eyes getting lost on the half-empty mug of coffee as the memories from her earliest years of life came back in a haze of pain and nostalgia. She could feel Azriel’s attention on her, his gaze lingering as though a spark that could set her entire being aflame if she was not careful.

“I was particularly fond of the thought process that came with the activities I engaged with. The path that led to the end was more enjoyable than the end itself. Magic makes it all… easier. I don’t need to cook, or walk down the way to the library to fetch myself a book, or even prepare my own bath. It’s easy to forget the hardships when things start to get offered to you on a silver platter.”

His silence was not one accompanied by uneasiness. In fact, Azriel’s presence was anything but. There were, she presumed, many obvious reasons for that: he was much experienced; had a vast knowledge of combat and strategizing; the shadows answered to his every command, and could hide his figure from the eye-sight in a second; that, combined to his willingness to learn more and to polish fields in which he was yet not perfect at, brewed a capable individual, a lethal weapon built on a muscular body. However, it was not the clear threat that Azriel inspired in their enemies that soothed her nerves. It was his stance towards her; the manner with which his eyes seemed to reflect a pool of warm honey whenever they met hers; it was the lack of judgment, the respect of boundaries, and most importantly: the rare perception of noticing when one didn’t need advices or pity, but simply to vent a little. 

Azriel could’ve said something back then. [Name] was well aware of the fact that he neither agreed nor disagreed with her beliefs regarding magic, but that he had a thing or two to point out whatsoever, and out of respect, chose not to. For decades, she managed to hide her heart well and in plain sight — no one could catch on a single thought of hers through her expressions unless she so desired, no one could predict her next movement until the very last moment, — no one but, as it seemed, Azriel. Her decision not to rely much on magic was based on fear and failed logic, both entangled in roots of [Name]’s mortal past that she was not yet willing to let go. He caught onto that, but didn’t say a thing about it regardless. Because, somehow during the past year and through their previous interactions, he had learned that his interjections in situations such as those wouldn’t be at all welcomed — that [Name] valued ruthlessness and honesty so long as her most hidden feelings were not involved.

The sense of being stripped from her barriers in another person’s presence, to be so deeply seen and understood, was one that she had never experienced before, and [Name] had yet to decide whether she wished for that to linger or not. It would be a relief to be more than an inscrutable puzzle, but the thought was one that brought great dread, for she had hidden below countless facades for a long period of time, and was unsure of what to make of the person awaiting underneath. To shapeshift was to tear a path through another’s skin, to live on another’s body. It was more than fitting for the Cauldron to have given her such an ability, and that statement filled [Name] with a sense of corruption, as if her soul was a fragmented and treacherous thing that deserved to have the means with which to be hidden.

Incredible, Azriel’s voice echoed through her thoughts: his answer to when she had insinuated the vile character of her powers. And while the terror settled at the pit of her stomach whenever she dared to ponder on the possibility of being thoroughly seen by someone else, Azriel’s presence made it seem as though that wasn’t entirely negative.

She wouldn’t ask him to change the subject. She wouldn’t cower if he chose to press on the reasons behind her discomfort with magic. She would neither beg nor argue if Azriel so decided to vex her with questions she was unwilling to answer. However, when he raised from his seat and said: “Let’s craft a warrior out of your strategist’s skin,” [Name] was grateful anyway.

Of course, the Archeron decided that she wouldn’t have been as grateful if she was to know beforehand how demanding his training-style was. After five more laps around the shore, Azriel caved to the sound of her breathless curses and chose to spare her a few minutes of rest. That is if one could even call walking a proper pause. 

“If you were to sit, your muscles would grow lazy, and it would be twice as hard to return to the exercise afterwards,” Azriel had explained with a shrug after noticing her ugly stare, but the grin plastered on his face as he oh-so-thoughtfully matched her pace was enough to let her know that he hadn’t forgotten of her little jest the day before.

The wind did nothing to relieve the heat, for it suffered with the influence of the Sun above them, and as [Name] walked, her feet seemed to succumb to the weight of the sand at each step, and she felt a sudden wave of dizziness.

Fitting enough, as soon as her mind processed the state of her body, a long, dark wing appeared behind her back, meeting her shoulder-blades and bolstering her up. Azriel spared a single side-glance before he mentioned: “You wouldn’t be this lightheaded if you had chosen something suitable for intense training sessions.”

And [Name] was well aware of what he meant: the stupid long-sleeved shirt that she wore was doing nothing to prevent her heat exhaustion. Yet, the thought of uncovering what was underneath the fabric was so unthinkable that she gritted her teeth and straightened her posture.

“I can handle it well enough.”

“You’re smarter than this,” he immediately countered. “And I’m sure that you understand that your choice of clothing is slowing both of us down. This pact of ours won’t work unless I can train you properly.”

“I know,” she snapped, staring at him — or what she figured was him, considering that the sunlight nearly blinded her as she did so, — and Azriel raised an eyebrow as he reciprocated her glance.

“Then, what’s the matter?” The Spymaster insisted, his tone being enough an indicator that he wasn’t planning on changing the subject.

“I’d rather use long-sleeved shirts.”

“No one in their right mind would opt for warm clothes on a beach under the midday Sun.”

“Then we will conclude that I’m both smart and deranged.”

“[Name],” he sternly called, and perhaps it was because he had finally halted in his steps, no longer walking or running, but she turned on her heels to meet his figure, feeling compelled to let that banter go. “What’s the matter?”

At his repetition, the words escaped her mouth before her mind managed to demand otherwise. “Is that a chess-question?”

He blinked, his mouth parting ever-so-slightly in shock. “Is the answer that delicate?”

She merely nodded, freeing her mind from the memories that surfaced at the reason behind her reluctance. Azriel read enough through her reactions though, because he proceeded to scratch his nape with an unusual concern. “One that, I presume, you’re not prepared to answer.”

“I’m not.”

“Meaning that you’re also irreducible in terms of wearing proper clothes for the hot weather,” she cocked her hip, about to give him a verbal answer, when Azriel crossed his arms against his chest with a grumble. “Morning jogs aren’t merely meant to strengthen your physique and stamina, they also take on the position of a warm-up to the rest of our training for the day.”

None of those sentences were unprecedented. [Name] understood both the importance of those hellish laps and the stupidity of her obstinacy regarding the inadequate clothes that she packed. However, it was one thing to have part of her motivations and thoughts laid bare under the preciseness of his glance; it was another thing entirely to offer him the view of the physical scarring that followed-in-suit to the past that [Name] so heavily relied on and ran away from. Azriel’s intonation filled her with reluctance as she pondered on a possible mistake of judgment, fearing a disappointment that would surely occur was he to insist on the subject.

However, Azriel merely bit his lip — vexing her profusely, for that proved to be an efficient distraction, — and continued: “We will still run every day. I chose the beach on purpose, since the sand will help build your musculature faster, and will fix your poor resistance and the bad management of your breathing. However, we can jog under the moonlight for a while.”

She sighed in relief, but the feeling was short-lived as Azriel’s words carried on. “I was planning to train you in the forest above during the afternoon and first hours of the night. It was mainly to increase your fae-senses, as I noticed you’re neither using nor understanding them and their full potential. But for now, I guess we can use the forest to work on your aim and footwork and your fighting abilities overall.”

“Thank you, I—”

“It’s temporary,” he pointed out, interrupting her. “I’m far beyond the idea of forcing you to share painful memories, but I won’t overlook the morning jogs. The heat is crucial to further your resistance and you need to learn how to rely on your other senses in dark environments.” Azriel clicked his tongue. “And we will work twice as hard on your shifting.”

[Name] opened her mouth, bewildered at that sudden demand. “Why?”

“Because it’s useful, and because you’re scared of it,” Azriel answered flatly. “And I plan on leading you to challenging, Illyrian-based training trials once you’re ready for them — trials where paralyzing dread isn’t welcomed.”

Somewhere deep inside her being, the dragon shifted with certain laziness. [Name] could feel it waking up from a boring nap, opening its huge jaw in a yawn filled with anticipation; she could smell the ozone and sense the electricity within her nerves, bringing both an itch and a sudden soreness to her throat. She moved her head in denial. “What’s the problem with fear? It keeps us alive.”

It was a childish, borderline-innocent counter. [Name] had not a chance to win that argument, and her obstinacy was a meek attempt to postpone the inevitable. Azriel’s voice was low and menacing when he answered, staring deep into her eyes. “Fear is a lethal disease that spreads through one’s body like wildfire. By refusing to treat it, you are bound to burn until there’s nothing in your path but certain death.”

[Name] was, too, aware of it all. Yet, her entire life had been a gamble of fear-driven predictions. Logic came to her as a tool to avoid betrayals, disappointments and losses. A merchant had the need to be aware, to observe the patterns and fleets and harvests. It wasn’t merely about being great at smooth talking and forging promising partnerships — it was about perceiving the entire environment and betting on the most profitable option. [Name] wasn’t one to take unnecessary risks, to jump on hasted conclusions or to even indulge herself in the adrenaline of a particularly ambiguous choice. She never had the luxury to get rid of fear — not when she had been, for all her life, the very line that separated her sisters from a miserable life. But she stared at Azriel, the male who managed to be both logical and instinctive; bold and scheming; the spear and the shield; and she had no choice but to believe that the same could, eventually, apply to her.

“And how do I treat fear?” [Name] asked, filled with temptation.

Azriel’s grin stole the breath from both her lungs and crumbled the ground in which she stood. “By facing it.”

Not long after, both were back into the comfort of their hidden cave. [Name] took a fast, yet long-awaited cold bath before changing into clean clothes and returning to the entrance, encountering Azriel at their chess table, observing the scattered pieces from their latest game — one that [Name] had lost. Sensing her presence, whatsoever, he turned to face her, pointing to the board with his head.

“Your movements are mostly based on quick logic, and you have an aggressive and sharp playing style,” he began to say, his eyes drifting to her fallen Queen. “You’re also relentless, creative, smart: you see the entire board, and draw the potential from it.”

When Azriel clicked his tongue and proceeded to grin, she knew that the streak of compliments was over. “That is, of course, unless you’re playing quick chess.”

[Name] scoffed, but drew herself closer to the table regardless, being careful as not to brush past his wings as she did so. “Enlighten me then, how did you manage to beat me?”

“When you’re cornered, without the chance to step back and rely on careful pondering, your aggression turns into recklessness. Recklessness is equal to predictability — I could see your movements as clear as day because you were desperate to win, and desperate at the prospect of losing. It’s fear, isn’t it? You step into unknown territory and all of sudden, your instincts lose accuracy, your sharpness melts, and you turn into a shallow shell of wasted potential.”

She blinked, and the entire board took on a different meaning, the sudden shift in perspective making [Name] understand every grave error, every missed opportunity, and every tactic she could’ve used to defeat him. Under ideal circumstances, her style was ruthless. Where others chose to cower and preserve their pawns, she opted otherwise, sacrificing them to either create a trap or to further the effectiveness of her tactics. Because no one expected her to do such a thing, she, more often than not, won. But her aggressiveness was of no good when she felt threatened. [Name] remembered using similar strategies in real life: to sweet-talk suppliers and merchants into an alliance; to convince someone to do something they would rather not do; to financially demolish those who had wronged her family with the aid of regained fortune brought by Tamlin’s gold. When such matters were at hand, [Name] was not shy: she was relentless. Only once she decided to take a step back, to abandon her well-polished tactics and hide under frail defenses. It had costed, to both her and her family, everything. 

It was briefly after her mother’s death. Grief had seemed to cloud her father’s senses, for he meant to bet their entire revenue on a single crusade. [Name], who had been studying the fairly new science of weather prediction, noted that the seas were wild at that time of the year — that storms were frequent and often devastating, — meaning that it would be unwise to bet it all, since that decision alone was bound to fail. [Name] knew that well, for that decision was taken close to her birthday, and the skies then were a cacophony of thunder, a terrifying spectacle of lightning. She brought her concerns to her father, and pushed the subject as much as she could; relentless, aggressive, obstinate. But her father had snapped at her, denied her insights and said that, were she to insist on the matter any further, he’d quit on making her his heir and find her a suitable husband at once.

Terrified at the idea of losing both her heirdom and freedom, [Name] left the man alone, catering as many jewels and monetary savings as she could, hiding it all under a loose wooden-made tile found at her bed foot. And the abandonment of her tactics had been fatal: she was right; they lost everything; and all of sudden, there was nothing ahead of her family but poverty and hunger and suffering.

“Next time we face one another in a quick-chess match,” Azriel began, tearing her away from her thoughts. “You’ll beat me.”

“You can’t be so sure,” she answered, moving her head in denial.

“You’re now well aware of where you went wrong, and I’m sure you memorized my playing tactics long ago. You, [Name], is a terrifying opponent to go against in a chess match. I’ll make sure that the same thing will be said about you in battle.”

Azriel motioned for them to leave the cavern, and once again, [Name] chose to shift into the comfortable form of a falcon, not quite yet prepared to face the wildfire of her fears. Considering the hellish hours under the Sun, the flight towards the forest was, sadly enough, a short one. Azriel had been the one to carry the bag where [Name] kept her sai blades and throwing knives, and soon, the two were at a small glade amidst the forest, surrounded by tall trees and the pleasant chirping of birds. At the center, three trunks had been cut to create targets for her aim training, hovering above the grass while supported and tied to thinner wooden-piles. Staring left, [Name] found a clean site, with nothing but wooden-swords plastered on the ground. That made her scoff.

“I can handle my blades,” she argued, and Azriel followed her glance.

“Swords, maybe,” he shrugged. “But sai blades are different weapons, less sharp on the edges and more lethal on their tips. They require complete, fast, and immaculate control of your fingers and are meant to be an extension of your forearms.” Azriel pointed to the wooden-swords. “They are great against spears and long blades, and once I’m done polishing your overall blade-like abilities, I’ll use those wooden-swords to teach you how to use the sai to split a real sword in two.”

Azriel moved toward her bag. “Why did you decide that I was suitable for the sais?”

“They’re fast and lethal, meant to be aimed at the weakest parts of one’s body: the throat, the face, the neck and the legs. You can only maneuver a sword by its handle, but the sais can also be held by the fingers at the wing base, allowing you to easily rotate it in your hand. Mor had mentioned you were better with small blades, but I figured that a dagger would be too dull.”

Azriel kneeled, and [Name] could sense a tinge of pride in his voice, showcasing how confident he was in his choice of weaponry. As though it was second nature, she caught herself observing him with unbreakable attention, noticing the pattern of his movements and even catching on the steady sound of his breathing. Perhaps that was why she was startled upon realizing that Azriel’s breath ceased for a second, stuck in his throat. His hands gripped on the set of throwing knives he had given her the year before, polished and sharp as new, but the leather by the handles was slightly sunk in, carrying the marks of her grip. 

Azriel turned to her, as if shocked beyond himself, and his voice had lost all composure when he said: “You’ve been using them.”

Thin tendrils of shadows nestled themselves close to his ear, as if both teasing and reassuring their master. [Name] merely cursed the bright sunlight, as she had been missing the comforting presence of those shadows, somehow filled with personality. “Since the moment I laid my eyes on them.”

“Where?” He seemed to demand, trying — and failing, — to regain his composure. And though [Name] couldn’t quite understand what had brought that sudden wave of emotion on, she knew that this conversation was different than their previous ones: it was crucial for the character of their relationship from then on.

“There’s a small place in the mountains in Velaris. It’s hidden in the middle of the ridges, somehow untouched by the snow. I found it accidentally, and started to fly to it every morning. I used the throwing knives to practice my aim,” she motioned to the weapons, and Azriel cleared his throat, his eyes growing slightly bigger as if he seemed to connect the pieces of a long abandoned puzzle.

“So that’s where you’ve been going to?”

“How did you even know that I was flying around somewhere in the first place?”

Shock gave way to cockiness as Azriel pointed to himself with his index finger. “Spymaster.”

She scoffed. “And why were you spying on me then, Spymaster?”

The humor within his expression had vanished, his grin fading as though leaves flowing away with the breeze. “Chess-question?”

“Will you refuse to answer me otherwise?”

“I might.”

[Name] crossed her arms, slightly puzzled. If she pulled the right strings, tempting Azriel enough to throw him under a trap of their usual banters, it was possible for him to answer her either way, eager to have the last word. It would’ve been an ideal proposition: she’d get her answers without needing to waste a chess-question. But then again, what else would she ask? [Name] barely knew him, and further inquiries about what seemed obvious: his hands, his relationship with the Inner Circle, the many battles he had faced… she didn’t find proper to touch on those subjects — unless he mentioned it first.

Deciding at last that, since his reluctance seemed to be due to embarrassment, his answer would hardly be complicated to him. She shrugged, nodding to herself. He seemed amused whatsoever, and [Name] was slightly compelled to stick her tongue out to him before speaking: “Yes, that’s a chess-question.”

He made a noise that sounded a lot like a curse — one that would have her mother gasping and calling for the house’s guards, — and, shockingly, he seemed to hesitate. Azriel cleared his throat, avoiding her glance, and that alone made her grin widely. 

“I hardly ever sleep, which I’m sure you can relate to,” she hummed, cocking her hip, enjoying that situation more than she believed possible. “And, like any fae that can use their enhanced senses…”

[Name]’s amusement faded at his stirring, and a scowl edged on her features as Azriel continued his speech.

“I was used to hearing some commotion near your window at specific hours,” immediately, she raised an eyebrow.

“Answers to chess-questions are supposed to be honest,” [Name] pointed out, and he stared at her as though she was the most annoying being that had ever stepped on the Land.

“I knew you weren’t well after the last battle against Hybern, but any attempt to speak to you seemed impossible. Not only because it was hard to figure out the place you chose to hide inside for the day, but also because I was prohibited.”

She grew quiet, guilt burning at the pit of her stomach. [Name] overused her abilities against him, constantly repeating words soaked in treacherous power whenever she caught the slightest glint of rebellion within his will. Back then, she was terrified — not to say that she wasn’t still, — and Azriel’s desire to be a recurrent presence was more than merely odd: it was a trigger to painful remembrances that the Cauldron did not erase, but rather increased. 

As a mortal, [Name] was of no interest to immortal and powerful beings that, surely enough, had witnessed more than she could’ve ever dream of. Since a toddler, she has heard of how she was, undeniably, her mother’s daughter: they had the same nose; the same posture; the same sharp eyes and crude judgment; the same height; the same hair. [Name] was her mother’s doppelganger, a fact that neither pleased the mother nor the daughter. But [Name] was not blind to the woman’s beauty, and guessed that she, too, had some attractiveness within herself — a hunch that proved to be correct once poverty closed its talons in the Archerons’ calves and forced her to a life of prostitution. She figured that, to Feyre’s new friends, she was nothing beyond a beautiful face, just as she hadn’t been to the men that called upon her in the brothel. 

However, as her conversations with the males deepened and shifted into political subjects, it was clear that in the very least, her intellect had managed to spike their curiosity more than her external appearance — something that hadn’t happened for years. But it was Azriel who respected her the most back then, who saw her as a fitting opponent, an equal in terms of strategizing and sacrificing, hence why his first reaction upon seeing her as a High-Fae stung the deepest. The usual respect had been replaced, and instead, he eyed her with both awe and a poorly hidden desire. The fae-body made her taller, her legs were longer and her limbs seemed lighter. She was well-aware of every change: from the — previously nonexistent, — brightness of her hair to the new length of her fingers, but [Name] couldn’t stand the prospect of no longer being Azriel’s friend-against-all-odds; one with whom he could speak in puzzles; to instead be turned into a possible notch in his belt. The Cauldron stole enough of her, and she refused to allow it to steal the very few precious memories she still held untouched. Commanding him was not her smartest idea, but at least, she told herself, kept him from desiring her the way those men had.

Seeing him now, free from her powers and with his self-will intact, [Name] could not help but find herself an antrum of stupidity. The predators from the brothel had never cared for her well-being, never bothered to observe her day-by-day moving patterns, not once gave her heartfelt gifts meant for her protection. It had been unfair to judge Azriel so deeply and in the long-term over a single second, a bewildered gaze sent her way in a moment of unprecedented change.

“I made some mistakes,” which both agreed was a feeble attempt at an apology, but [Name] wasn’t quite sure whether or not she would’ve been standing on that same spot, sharing that same conversation, if she hadn’t taken those pre-mentioned precautions regarding their proximity in the past year. Hence why, while she regretted the early judgment and the imposition of her voice, she couldn’t quite say the same about taking a step back from the overall partnership that came with the Inner Circle.

Noticing that he wouldn’t get any further atonement, Azriel held out a throwing knife by the blade, inciting her to grab its handle. [Name] complied and stood in position, the wooden-made target in her line of sight, although far in distance. Azriel had the other nine pieces in hand, his eyes locked on how she held herself.

“Clotho’s weekly reports weren’t enough to settle me down, so I started to track your movements,” he broke the silence at once, and motioned with his head towards the target. “Throw it.”

She raised the blade in her dominant hand, sighting down along the line of her arm. [Name] calculated the overall distance between the weapon and the target, aware that she’d need to aim it a little higher so as to compensate for the weight shift during the trajectory. A memory resurfaced, whispering its existence from the pits of her mind: a fourteen year-old Feyre, with fresh calluses on her fingers, extending the bowstring and releasing a makeshift arrow into the trunk of a tree. It was one of the rare mornings in which [Name] was sober enough — and not as sore as usual, — to observe her sister’s endeavors. Back then, she had been taken by a mix of both dread and pride as she noticed Feyre’s talents and aim, and paid her quiet company until it was time for her sister politely send her off, as [Name] couldn’t follow her inside the forest.

During those years, her life had turned upside down with nights spent inside a brothel: a disposable doll by the hands of men too eager and cruel and rich. She’d stumble back home with a bottle of cheap liquor, tired, humiliated and wishing to be anywhere but inside her own skin. [Name] would never drink it fully, for the alcohol helped them to light the miserable hearth when their stock of coal was scarce. Instead, she’d puke outside if that was necessary, place the half-empty bottle somewhere inside the kitchen, and throw her tired body on the extra mattress that she managed to gamble at the market. Elain was usually the one to wake her up when it was time for her to leave again, straight into the worst nightmare of a woman, and the one that she was forced to call a job. [Name] would bathe in cold water, not wanting to be a bother, and leave their house in a normal attire, since Moira — the headmistress of the brothel, — refused to have [Name] walking around the dirty streets in the silks she oh-so-kindly provided for her employees.

Keeping one’s mind clear was a borderline-impossible task when under the circumstances that [Name] had been during those terrible times, however, she had goals back then: to protect her sisters from the same fate; to make sure they’d have food and a roof over their heads. They were surprisingly simpler times, — that she did not miss whatsoever, — when [Name] knew no magic, trusted no fate, and instead focused entirely on her sisters’ safety. 

Perhaps it was that sudden memory, combined with the absurdity of the present, that led her to such a strained throw, her blade losing both strength and speed as it landed far under the center of the target. Azriel made a noise that resembled a contained laughter and she gritted her teeth. The second after, however, he was in a similar position — only smoother and much more collected, — holding the handle of the throwing knife. [Name] hadn’t thrown knives with Azriel before, yet was unsurprised to see that his posture and grip — his thumb parallel to the blade — were perfect. He seemed nearly bored as he released the knife; it flew through the air and thumped into the central ring of the target. [Name] knew that if the blade had been slightly longer and he used more of his strength, the knife would have destroyed the wood, passing straight through the center and craving itself on the grass underneath. 

“Sometimes I’d go check on you myself, other times I’d ask my shadows. You always left early; a small, lonely swallow soaring through the morrow’s sky; and returned past after midday, taking on the shape of a gyrfalcon,” he stated, offering her yet another throwing knife. “May I?”

He briefly motioned with his hands towards her hips and waist. She nodded, her eyes glued to the target as she sucked in a breath. When Azriel first touched her, correcting her posture, the Archeron had expected a somewhat sudden wave of terror and disgust; she expected her mind to make her travel back to the rooms of the brothel, with its exaggerated silks adorning the walls and the red-colored lightning granted by the candles. However, [Name] felt none of that. Instead, what startled her the most was to ascertain that she grew unused to another’s touch. When had been the last time she had felt the warmth of one’s body against her own? [Name] had hugged her two younger sisters after their father’s burial, but that had happened nearly a year ago: almost three-sixty-five days since she had dared to challenge the boundaries of the mental scarring left by the time spent within the walls of the brothel. 

It took her yet another minute to understand what was different in his touch. It was brief, filled with respect and care, and she flushed with embarrassment and guilt, remembering how reckless she had been upon her judgment of him; how stupid she had been to command him to leave her alone, to place Azriel under the same category of the men [Name] had once laid with. Then, when he moved to fix her elbow and his fingers grazed over the uncovered skin of her wrist, she noticed the texture of his touch: unique in its own way, scarred from the fire and callused from years of sword-training. [Name] couldn’t have confused his hands with another’s even if she wanted to, and that fact alone brought not discomfort but reassurance, as if his hands were an anchor to the present, a sign that she had much to overcome and wouldn’t give a single step forward if all she could do was stare back.

Azriel’s touch didn’t linger whatsoever. Once her posture was fixed, he pointed towards the target. “I’ve heard from Mor that you were skilled — much more skilled than your last throw evidenced. Clear your head, focus on the target, otherwise you’ll be as good as dead on an actual confrontation. Again.”

[Name] took a step back from the invisible throwing line. She wasn’t entirely self-taught in terms of knife throwing and managing small blades in general: the Archeron once had a close friend, a lifetime ago, who made sure to train her the best he could. But after the War and the biting loneliness that accompanied it, [Name] thought it’d be profitable to improve that particular set of abilities. Over the course of a year, she spent hours of her day with blades in her hands, throwing it again and again, watching how the repetition and strength would split the wood, similar to the shattering of nerves and bones. There was only so much one could go in their training while relying on past lessons and step-by-step techniques found in books, but she managed well enough. [Name]’s step back was slowly taking on a more direct trajectory — rather than a diagonal one, — ever since she began to try and be ambidextrous. Her arm went back before she moved it forward; the knife flew from her opened hand as if it was a falcon whose leashes had been ripped. The weapon soared toward the target, slicing the air in a steadier trajectory, and thudded close to its heart, less than two centimeters from where Azriel’s own knife had landed.

“When I first started training in Windhaven, I was older and much less experienced than soldiers who were five, sometimes six years younger than me,” Azriel began, his pace relaxed as he reached the target and plunged the throwing knives from where they were craved on the wood. “Knowing that my abilities weren’t far beyond those of a kid of six vexed me. So, I practiced harder — and by myself, — after every training session. I thought I was being smart, doing great.”

His back was facing her, and [Name] caught on a scent of something uncommon, noticing with certain startle that her senses had opened themselves to Azriel’s hidden emotions; that what she smelt wasn’t from a native flower of the forest or even a curious animal, observing from afar: it was him, somewhat vulnerable, telling a fact from his past that, under different circumstances, could only have been uncovered through a chess-question. So, the Archeron took note of every shift in intonation; every word; every fidget of his scarred fingers; drinking in that sudden proximity, finding that she was starving for meaningful connections after an entire year of self-isolation.

“When Devlon caught me, he scowled. He told me then that the stupidest thing to do as a beginner was to train without guidance,” Azriel turned, and just as he had done before, he held the blade and extended the handle towards her. “Training by oneself serves for a single thing: enhancing your errors. If you’re not well-instructed, lapses in your stance will go unnoticed; those lapses will turn into vices; and vices are not only lethal, but difficult for a warrior to abandon.”

[Name] grabbed the handle, closing her fingers around it. Soon enough, Azriel’s hand covered hers as he corrected her grip — thumb facing the blade. He raised her elbow, straightened her shoulders, and lightly kicked her left foot, instructing her to open a further distance between her feet.

“Your arms are over-bent,” at her puzzled expression, he let out the first smile in almost half-an-hour, and [Name] was shocked to notice how badly she had missed the sight of it. “To throw a knife and land it on the center, it’s crucial to raise your aim a little bit so as to compensate for the loss of momentum caused by the weight shift, you caught that right. However, what you also noticed, at least subconsciously, is that your aim is more precise when you bend your arm more than needed. That unnecessary arc is meant to compensate for the fact that you’re not using your strength correctly, hence why your throws need this extra boost.”

“And that’s a vice,” [Name] pointed out, to which he nodded. The Archeron thought about his initiative to share more of himself — no chess-questions needed, — and sighed as her parted lips shone the light on one of the secrets kept inside the coffins of her chest. “I received just a brief training in knife throwing, and I’m guessing the one to teach me hadn’t caught on that vice.”

“Mor would’ve noticed,” he rebuked, tilting his head ever-so-slightly.

“It wasn’t Mor.”

That caught him off-guard, his previous relaxed stance grew more wary as he seemed to ponder his next words. “You were trained by someone else?”

“Yes, some years ago,” she muttered with her eyes glued to the target. [Name] caught on another odd scent, and failed to assign it to an emotion.

“Who?”

The easy lies came to mind all at once, false-hearted words meant to deceive those who had dared to request an answer whose implications she was not comfortable with. From training received from her father’s sailors to winning a bet against a talented fae-huntress and having to fight a bear for the loser’s most favored dagger, [Name]’s lies ventured from realistic to absurd, each suitable to specific situations. 

But for once, the truth presented itself with more vigor, and she decided to oblige it.

“Some fairly stubborn pirates were stealing provisions and taxes sent to the Queens by sea, so they gathered parts of their armies and scattered them across the shores of the Mortal Lands, one being close to my family’s old village. I was twenty at the time, made an unexpected friendship with three soldiers, and one taught me some nice tricks.”

Azriel grew silent for a second, and his thoughts were a chaotic turmoil, flirting with her senses as she tried her best to keep them out, not daring to read his mind. “What happened to them?”

“Two decided to fight alongside Jurian during the War and are now part of his troops,” she answered, her tone growing sharper. Her scent must’ve been a strong indicator of the unraveling of the third one’s story — and oh, how she envied the Spymaster for being able to tell them apart, — and soon enough, Azriel dropped the subject.

“Remember that your mind must be clear while handling a blade,” he told her instead.

[Name] noticed the implication underneath: forget we ever talked about that. And so, she nodded, filled with relief. Her arm was pulled back; Azriel corrected her small vice with a push of his fingers. [Name] stabilized her breath, calculating the distance; Azriel stepped aside. The Archeron released the knife; it sliced through the air, carrying a strength she was still unused to using, and landed on the center of the target, just where Azriel’s previous blade had been, shattering wood and paint until the handle was the only thing stopping it from going through the target entirely. The male at her side grinned, and she figured that at last, the idea of taking profit of the abilities and magic granted by her fae-body didn’t sound entirely too bad.

She lost their third match, but surprisingly enough, wasn’t bothered by it.

general notes: me when I’m a pathological liar that swore she wouldn’t take too long to release the new chapter and ended up taking too long anyway. I wish I had those cool stories found in AO3 like: I robbed a bank and went to jail or I fought with my mother over a racoon and was homeless for three months, but my life isn’t that exciting lmao I’m just a slow writer!! anyways, please reblog it and tell me your thoughts on this chapter. lots of love <3

taglist [comment to be added]: @nyotamalfoy @arilindemann @bsenpai @rachelnicolee @piceous21 @forsiriussake @sassybluebird @esposadomd

#acomaf #acotar #acowar #azriel #azriel imagine #azriel imagines #azriel x reader #acosf #acotar x reader #azriel / reader #azriel x you #azriel shadowsinger #sjmaas #sjm books #a court of thorns and roses #azriel x y/n

[starlightandsouls]

Hi, I had this idea and maybe you could write something around it… if you don't want to, that's fine!

Azriel and reader are in a relationship, reader already has a daughter who adores Az, maybe one night the little girl ask him to read her a bedtime story and she says something like "I love you daddy, goodnight" and that was the first time she said those to him and he goes tell reader

I love your writing!

My Angel

Azriel POV...

He should have known better than to be roped into one of Morrigan's plans, but his family had the annoying habit of dragging him into whatever they were doing. Morrigan and Feyre had the idea that things were getting a bit too ‘boring’ so had consequently decided to throw a party at the River House. And that was all good enough. The problem was that they had recruited him to run all their errands.

So now, albeit unwillingly, he found himself with a list in hand, standing in the Rainbow centre, frowning at everything he had to get. Honestly he believed that as the Spymaster of his court, he had much more important things to do. And he had voiced as such to Rhysand, but in the end the High Lord had been unable to deny his mate. Sap.

He had just left a winery after purchasing Cassian and Mor’s long list of demands, face buried in the damn list, when he had stumbled into something. Or someone as it seemed. Grunting, he looked down and found a small girl staring up at him, scowling.

Now Azriel was not good with kids, had never known how to dealt with them. The closest had been his nephew, Nyx. And even with him, Azriel had been terrified at first, too scared that he would do something wrong, would somehow hurt the little boy. For some time, he had downright refused to hold Nyx, consumed by his fear and doubt. It wasn’t until that Rhysand had almost shoved the boy into his arms, slapping him across the head for his ‘stupidity’ as his brother put it, that he had started bonding with the boy more.

Now, however, he was pulled back reality as the girl before him snapped at him,

“Hey! You dropped my ice cream, mister.”

Azriel was taken aback. Usually kids, parents included, shied away from him. They were all too intimidated by him; by his title, his shadows... his scars. So Azriel stopped bothering about them altogether. So for this little girl to be so unabashedly reprimanding him for causing her to drop her ice cream, definitely took him by surprise.

“I’m sorry?” Azriel asked, still not grasping the situation at hand.

“You should really watch where you’re going. That was my favourite flavour and its gone because of you.”

Azriel looked around, trying to locate either of the child’s parents, not wanting to abandon her in the middle of the busy street. Just as he was about to ask her where they were, a woman exited one of the shops and frantically ran over to them. And Azriel’s heart stopped. Before him now was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. The golden light of the Summer sun made you glow as you rushed over. And Azriel was once again speechless, this time by your breath-taking beauty.

“Aria! How many times have I told you to stay close to me. You know you’re not allowed to wander off,” you reprimanded, not even noticing him standing there, watching you, enamoured.

“Mama, I was just waiting for you outside. Its so stuffy in there. And I was just having my ice cream when this man pushed me!”

The blatantly untrue accusation broke him out of his reverie. Azriel made an incredulous sound and shot back,

“I did not! You were in my way.”

The woman then, finally, turned to take him in. Her eyes wide, obviously realising who he was. She started to apologise when her daughter interrupted her again,

“Well you should keep your eyes open while walking, mister. You have to buy me a new ice cream now.”

“Aria!” you started, horror etched across her face, then turning to him she continued, “I’m so sorry. She’s not usually like this, I don’t know what has gotten into her...”

“Please, no need to apologise. I mean, she’s not wrong. I was a bit preoccupied. I should have noticed her,” Azriel agreed all of a sudden, overcome by a need to appease you, wanting to ease the frown marring her beautiful face. Woah. Where did that come from? You had a daughter, so you must have a husband. Therefore he shouldn’t be finding you anything... let alone beautiful.

‘She’s alone, master.’

His shadows, ever the busy bodies, whispered to him. Well that certainly wasn’t any excuse. If she was alone right now, that didn’t mean she didn’t have someone waiting for her somewhere. Although, looking down he notices the stark absence of a ring on her left hand. Strange...

“Exactly. You were in the wrong. So now you have to buy me a new ice cream,” Aria stated, matter of fairly. Azriel laughed at her dedication to her ice cream before asking,

“Well I have to run right now. I was running some errands for my family. Can I get a rain check?”

“Mama what’s a rain check? It’s not going to rain today, the weather so hot, I’m boiling,” Aria inquired, her brow furrowed as she tried to make sense of the word.

“A rain check is when you postpone something and ask for a later date,” you explained.

“Oh. Then when will you buy me ice cream then, mister?” Aria rambled on, unfazed completely.

Both of you laughed at her dedication to her ice cream. Turning to each other you both exchanged names. After some back and forth, the two of you decided to meet at an ice cream parlour that had just opened in town. Azriel had heard nothing but praises of the place from Nesta and the Valkyries who frequented the place often in their book buying sprees.

Several years later, Azriel would remember to thank Morrigan for sending him out that day. As Azriel flew back home, smiling to himself at the ice cream date he now somehow had with the two of you, he was oblivious to the fact that he had just met the love of his life.

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

The ice cream date had been just the beginning of the beautiful journey the three of them would embark on together. The very first thing Azriel had learned about you was that you and Aria were all by yourselves. Aria’s dad, the fucking prick, had taken off just as you had gotten pregnant and had never looked back. The fact shouldn’t have made him as glad as it did. Yes, Azriel was enraged on your behalf and had half the mind of asking you his name just so he could hunt the bastard down. But he was happy because it meant you weren’t off limits. It meant he could maybe, just maybe, convince you to give him a chance.

Although as time passed, Azriel realised it wasn’t you who needed convincing; it was Aria. The eight year old girl was so much more smarter than he had given her credit for. She seemed protective of you in a way. Overtime she put Azriel through so many of, what he later realised, were tests to see if he would stay for the two of them, if he wasn’t just playing around. This continued for some time even after the two of you had officially started dating.

One day, he had been in the middle of going through reports for Rhys, when one his shadows who he always left with the two of you appeared by his side and frantically pulled him up. He had immediately winnowed to your house, knowing his shadow would only leave the two of you if it was an emergency. To say he had been scared would be an understatement. His heart had dropped as he arrived, mind instantly assuming the worst possible scenarios. Was Aria hurt? Were you? What if one of his enemies had gotten to the two of you? If anyone had hurt a single hair on your head, he would-

Storming into the kitchen, Azriel was met by a site of absolute chaos. He was relieved to find the two of you safe and sound. But his relief was short lived, and was replaced by confusion at the state of the usually meticulous kitchen.

Not a single inch of the counter top was empty. Dishes and flour and sugar (was that maple syrup?) were thrown around haphazardly.

You were wiping down the spilled flour when you noticed his presence. Looking up, you exclaimed,

“Oh, Az. When did you get here?”

“Just now. What... what happened here, love?” he inquired, slowly making his way over as he tried to navigate through the mess strewn on the floor.

“Well, I had thought since today was Saturday I could get some more sleep in. But this little miss decided to take it upon herself to make breakfast today,” you answered as you turned to Aria, levelling her with a glare. Azriel was glad he wasn’t on the receiving end. While you were usually the most kind hearted, amicable person he had ever met, he knew you could be firm when you wanted to. Whether that was with Aria whenever she wouldn’t cooperate or some stranger trying to mess with her.

Speaking of Aria, the shadow that had alerted him in the first place, was now playfully slinking around at her feet, like a goddamn pet dog. Ah, the power the two of you had. You, with your endless love and adoration, had reduced Azriel to a love sick puppy within a few months of being together. And little Aria had trained his shadows, the source of his power, the bringer of death and pain for many, to eager puppies. Ah, how love changes a person.

Aria turned to him with a cheeky grin and said,

“I just wanted to do something nice for Mama.”

“Is that so?”

“Mhmm. I don’t know how it got so messy. That’s why i called you here, Azzy. So you can help her clean up,” Aria answered. Another habit the little girl had was giving him the strangest of nicknames.

“Darling, I don’t think that’s why I left my shadows here. You scared me, you know. I thought something happened,” Azriel admonished. While he was always joking around with her, he felt it was important to teach her some responsibility from time to time.

“Aria!” you remarked as you overheard what your daughter had done.

“What? It’s just so much! And Azzy doesn’t mind. Do you, Azzy?”

“No, no I don’t,” Azriel said as he huffed a laugh. He would do anything for the two of you.

Azriel rolled up his sleeves and started gathering up all the dishes to move to the sink. You were dusting off the spilled flour while Aria observed from the corner. The two of you had forbidden her from entering the kitchen while they cleaned. The little devil would surely have created an even bigger mess.

With all the dishes piled up, Azriel was just about to start washing them when Aria slowly tip toed over to him. With her hands behind her back, an innocent smile on her face, she made it impossible for him to scold her anymore.

“Azzy. I have to tell you something,” Aria whispered. He gestured for her to continue but she shook her head,

“No, no. Come here. Its a secret.”

Azriel sighed and leaned down, knowing the little girl would not relent until she got her way. As Azriel leaned closer so she could say whatever she had to, he was met by her palm smacking across his right cheek. Erupting in giggles, Aria ran away before either of them could say anything.

Standing up, Azriel simply stared at you as your hand flew to your mouth to stop your own laughter. If only his brothers could see him now; standing in a kitchen, doing dishes in a house not his own, cheek covered in a hand print of flour. They would surely think he had been replaced by some clone.

Laughing, you walked over to him. You wiped off the flour covering his face, then wrapped your arms around his waist.

“I’m sorry darling. I hope she didn’t interrupt anything important,” you said as you leaned closer.

“Nonsense. Nothing’s more important to me than you. I’d do anything for my girls,” he replied firmly, hoping you understood how much the two of you meant to him.

“I love you Azriel.”

“I love you too,” Azriel replied, with his own smirk. Before you could have the chance to move away, he had grabbed some flour from a stray bowl and blown it all across your face.

Azriel erupted in laughter, at your expression, at your now completely white face.

“Oh you little shit,” you snapped as you reached over for some flour of your own.

The sight was truly comical; the two of you running around like maniacs, chucking flour at each other. The house filled with sounds of laughter and joy.

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

Several months later, Azriel was staying over at your place for the night. Having been gone to the Winter Court for some recon, Azriel had been away from his girls long enough that he had jumped at the offer.

You were already in bed, waiting for him. Knowing you had a long day at work, Azriel had offered to put away the dishes after dinner and put Aria to bed as well. You had refused at first, knowing he had just returned home and surely must be exhausted as well. But Azriel had heard none of it and had sent you off with your favourite novel and a warm cup of tea.

With everything else done, Azriel now lay in bed with Aria, reading her a story as she slowly dozed off. One thing about Aria was that whenever she was with Azriel, whether that was while he was reading her a bed time story, or sitting on his lap for dinner, or while she rambled about her school to him, she always took his hand. And that always took his breath away.

Just like right now, Aria had his right hand clutched in both of hers. Her soft hands rubbing shapes into his hand, smoothing over the rough scars. When the two of you had started getting closer, he had been hesitant in initiating any contact with Aria, had always kept his distance, since he thought his scars might scare her. You, however had interpreted it as not wanting anything to do with your daughter. And you had expressed this to him with tears in your eyes. Tears that had almost killed him, to think that he had been the cause of your distress. It was then that he had told you of his own insecurities, how he was afraid that his scars might bother the innocent little girl. You had immediately tried to ease his doubt, assuring him that they had never thought any different of him because of his scarred hands.

Looking down, he saw Aria had gone to sleep. He put away the book and slowly eased his hand from hers. He had pulled up the blanket around her, making sure she was properly tucked in. He was just about to get up and leave, when Aria roused. Internally cursing himself for waking her up, Azriel made to run his hands through her hair, knowing it always puts her straight to sleep.

Aria, however, sat up on the bed and threw her arms around his neck whispering,

“I love you, papa. Goodnight.”

And then just as quick got back in bed and went to sleep. Azriel was frozen in place. Tears rolled freely down his face. Aria had never called him that before. Always referring to him through her silly nicknames. And to think... she trusted him enough to consider him her father... it was more than anything Azriel could ever ask for in life.

Leaning down, he kissed the top of her head and slowly said,

“I love you too, my angel.”

Azriel tip toed his way to the door and closed it silently behind him, not wanting to wake the child again.

He moved away from the door quietly for a moment, before practically running down the hallway to tell you what had inspired.

Later that night, as he lay with you in his arms, Azriel couldn’t believe any of this was real. He had a girlfriend, who he loved more than the stars in the sky, who he would give and take a life for. He had a... daughter. He had a family of his own. Each night, he would say a silent prayer to the Mother. Thanking her for bestowing this gift upon him. Azriel knew an eternity would not be enough to express his gratitude, his devotion, to the two of you. His two angels.

#azriel #azriel shadowsinger #azriel imagine #acotar hc #acotar headcanon #azriel headcanon #azriel headcanons #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel x oc #acotar fanfiction #imagine acotar #azriel acotar #azriel fanfic #acotar #acotar fic

[heliads]

Hi! If that's okay could i request Tewksbury x gn!reader?

You know that scene where Enola takes him to her room to talk about what she discovered? That scene with reader instead except they don't get attacked by the police and he ends up staying the night, nothing nsfw just fluff! And maybe he or they confess? And could you add the one bed troupe? Ty!!

Your choice of a scenario or headcanons, whatever you're more comfortable with! :)

honestly thank you so much for the choice of scenario or headcanons i appreciate the opportunity to have less of a workload, as a reward you get a full length fic

masterlist

After all these days of searching, you think you’ve managed to find him at last. You and Enola have been worried sick about what could have happened to the Viscount of Tewkesbury, Marquess of Basilwether, Owner of Far Too Many Titles for quite some time now, so even the sight of what could be familiar brown tousled hair across a crowded city square fills you with a rush of relief.

He’s alright, that’s what matters most. You can catch the barest flickers of his smile from where you stand. Scores of people weave in between the two of you, but the distance is slowly shrinking. You didn’t expect to miss him quite as much as you did when you first parted ways, but for some reason the thought that you’ll be able to see him again is enough to make you smile like a giddy fool.

In a way, you are. Judging by all the nasty business with Linthorn and the people trying to follow you, you were worried that leaving Tewkesbury behind had been a mistake. What would you have done if that man with the bowler hat from the train had caught up to him? The consequences are more severe than you care to think about, yet here you are, finding Tewkesbury at last.

He doesn’t know you’re here, not yet. You’re still doing your best to remain unnoticed. You and Enola are getting more paranoid by the hour, a practice which has only served to keep the two of you alive and mostly out of trouble. You’re being tracked by Linthorn and his men, of that you have no doubt, but what matters most right now is getting to Tewkesbury before they can.

That’s why Enola is currently on another side of the city, doing her best to distract anyone trying to find you. She’s also hoping to locate Tewkesbury yourself if you couldn’t manage it, although you have to admit that you feel very pleased to be the one who’s found him first.

You hurry across the town square, ducking obliviously around throngs of people and charging coaches to make it over to him. Tewkesbury is helming a small flower stand, and, judging by the empty spots in the vases lining his table, he’s making his fortune quite easily. 

That might be due in part to the easy smiles he’s giving out like extra change to any passersby. In fact, the customer currently purchasing a bouquet is looking at Tewkesbury as if she’d rather like to buy him, too, just for the thrill of propping him up in her house for a good stare or two. For some reason, the way that the girl keeps eyeing him makes a knot twist in your stomach, some deep unhappiness that only allows itself to be known through no uncertain pressure.

Just when you fear you may be swept away on the tide of what is definitely not jealousy, Tewkesbury looks up and sees you. Instantly, any thoughts of the girl in front of him, if they even existed in the first place, vanish from his face. It becomes clear that he must have been faking a good temper before, because the sheer joy on his face is infinitely better what he’d been displaying just a few minutes ago.

Evidently picking up on the fact that she’s no longer remotely on Tewkesbury’s mind, the flirtatious customer sighs in irritation and leaves. You don’t even think Tewkesbury noticed, he’s beaming ear to ear as you hurry up to him.

“Y/N!” He says, absolutely delighted. “What are you doing here? I didn’t think I was ever going to see you again.”

You laugh. “Well, I’m sorry to disappoint.”

“No,” Tewkesbury hurries to assure you, “not disappointed in the slightest. Really, I couldn’t be happier. What’s going on? How did you find me?”

“It’s not just me who’s been trying to find you,” you relate, “I think I’m being followed. Most likely you are too. There’s some man out there who’s been trying to find you. Enola and I split up so we could try to get to you first before anything happened. I’m glad I found you.”

“I’m glad you found me, too,” Tewkesbury says, then hurries to straighten some already pristine display on his stand before you can notice the blush rising to his cheeks.

You allow him a moment or two to collect himself, then continue on. “We’ve found out a lot since we saw you last. Do you know anywhere we could talk without being overheard? Sorry for being nervous, it’s just that I’d rather not have anyone know we were here.”

Tewkesbury nods, a faint grin on his face. “What, are you worried about getting into a fight?”

You blow out a tired breath. “You’d be surprised.”

His face turns awestruck. “You’ve been in a fight?”

“Yeah,” you say, glancing across the street to see if you spot Linthorn, “in trying to protect you, too. You’ll be pleased to know that I won.”

When you turn back to Tewkesbury, he’s regarding you with a charmed look, like he could listen to you talk for hours on end and never tire of it. Something tells you that the thought of you choosing his side over safety or anything else means more to him than Tewkesbury could possibly put into words.

Whatever he’s thinking, though, neither of you are quite brave enough to express it at the moment. Tewkesbury clears his throat and gestures towards the street.

“I have a place not far from here where we should be fine to talk. Just let me close up shop and we should be good to go.”

You watch him work with a smile. “You know, I do have to admit that it’s cool that you did all this. You know, you were able to set up your own store in Covent Garden and all that. Not bad for a boy on the run.”

Tewkesbury straightens up with an amused look. “Is that a compliment? I think I’m touched.”

You roll your eyes, but can’t hide a grin. “You’re allowed to have them every now and then. I’m not Enola, I can refrain from sarcasm once in a while.”

“I’m well aware that you’re not Enola,” he says, and for some reason you get the feeling that he’s very appreciative of the fact, too. It makes a flush of heat spiral up your cheeks until you have to look away to get your bearings once again.

Tewkesbury leads you through the busy streets until he comes to a stop in front of a locked door.

“This is my place,” he says by way of explanation, “I had to do a fair amount of convincing so the owner would even allow me to let the room, but it’s not too bad. It means no one is trying to follow me, at least. Well, except you.”

You laugh. “Thanks for the clarification.”

Tewkesbury chuckles and leads you upstairs. You can see a hallway with many similar doors stretching out into what feels like an endless abyss of rooms, but Tewkesbury seems to know the way to his flat like the back of his hand. Soon enough, he’s locking the door behind you, and the two of you are alone at last. You were together like this in the marketplace, but for some reason, it’s different now that no one else can see you.

Tewkesbury gestures for you to take a seat and settles into a chair opposite you. “So?” He asks, always curious, “what’s been going on?”

You let out a frustrated breath. “Everything. Enola and I have been running ourselves ragged trying to keep up with Linthorn and your family. Honestly, we were worried sick that we wouldn’t be able to find you in time. We agreed to meet up tomorrow morning, hopefully with you in tow.”

“At least we have a destination for tomorrow,” Tewkesbury muses. “And a plan, I hope?”

You nod. “The barest scrap of one, but it does for now. What, will you be sad to leave your flower stand?”

“A little,” he admits, “it was nice to pretend that I could have a life as simple as that, but I knew it was only temporary. Still, I get the feeling I’ll have reasons to enjoy my future anyway, with or without selling flowers in Covent Garden.”

Again, you get that feeling that he’s hinting towards more than he could ever say. You quickly steer the conversation back towards safer shores, like the fact that there’s at least one man out there trying to kill both of you, and slowly you’re able to fight back the wave of heat that’s currently dusting your cheeks.

It’s easy to spend time with Tewkesbury. You forgot about that in the time since you’ve last seen him, but it’s true. Before you know it, the dangerous topics of Tewkesbury’s family and Linthorn’s plotting are left far behind. You and Tewkesbury laugh until your ribs are sore, trading jokes like you’ve known each other all your lives instead of just a short matter of time. He is fascinating to speak to, host to knowledge you’d never guess at in your entire life. 

At the same time, you seem to hold his attention in the palm of your hand like a flightless bird, never to soar away. Every time you open your mouth to voice a single syllable, Tewkesbury looks at you with his heart in his eyes, totally captivated by you. It’s enough to make anyone feel important, and you are certainly no exception.

Before you know it, you’re fighting back a yawn in between another tangent of conversation. You do your best to hide the sudden bout of exhaustion that’s flung itself upon you, but Tewkesbury notices you. Always the eagle eye when it comes to spotting details about you, right? It’s as if he can only ever look at you, so he might as well do it right.

Tewkesbury glances at the window behind him and his face transfigures with surprise. “My goodness, it’s already so late. I had no idea.”

Sure enough, when you glance through the leaded panes, you notice that the streets outside have already succumbed to night. Darkness has fallen upon the town, pierced consistently by the even light of lanterns lining the streets.

You curse under your breath. You hadn’t meant to stay this long, but then again, if you were to do it all again, you have a feeling you’d repeat this afternoon exactly the same way. You haven’t felt half so light or free as when you’re talking with Tewkesbury. He makes you feel as if nothing in the world could ever trouble you, and when you have as many problems as you do right now, that’s certainly something worth your time.

Still, even the best of evenings have to end at some point, and the moon rising over the horizon acts as your timepiece for the night, signaling that you’re going to have to call off your happiness for the time being.

“I’d better head out,” you say, rising to your feet, “I’ll come back in the morning, we can go meet Enola. It’s just not safe for you to keep up your life here, not until we figure out Linthorn.”

Tewkesbury jerks into a standing position as well. “Wait, you can’t go out there by yourself, it’s pitch black. I’ll walk with you.”

You shake your head. “Then you’d be coming back here in the dead of night. Linthorn’s out there somewhere on the lookout for you, it would be too dangerous. I have to go by myself.”

Tewkesbury refuses to take no for an answer. “Then stay here. If I can’t go with you, you can’t walk these streets after dark on your own. I have space, you can stay the night.”

You hesitate, wavering on the edge of what you truly want and what surely must be done. “I can’t ask you to do that.”

“Well, I can’t ask you to keep helping me stay safe from Linthorn, and you do it anyway,” Tewkesbury reasons, “Look, it’s no big deal at all. I promise.”

You cave at last. “Alright. I am rather tired.”

Tewkesbury grins, thrilling over his victory. He looks around to offer you a place to sleep, and that’s when the two of you reach an insurmountable problem at the exact same time. When Tewkesbury found this place, he was only thinking that he’d be host to himself. For this reason, there’s only one bed, and for this reason, the fact that you’re going to be here too creates many, many difficulties.

“I’ll sleep in the armchair,” you say quickly. “It looks quite comfortable.”

Tewkesbury scoffs. “That’s a lie and you know it. You take the bed, I’ll be in the armchair.”

“I’m not kicking you out of your own bed,” you argue.

“And I’m not forcing you to stay here overnight just to delegate you to the chair,” Tewkesbury replies just as quickly, “Take the bed.”

“You take the bed,” you quarrel.

“We can both take the bed,” Tewkesbury says in a rush, and both of you try to pretend as if that declaration isn’t somehow both the most perfect solution and also the most terrifying option that could possibly come out of this debate.

Not one to show any sign of weakness, you nod before Tewkesbury can take it back. “Alright. It’s big enough for the two of us. It’ll be fine.”

“Very fine,” Tewkesbury adds, although you notice that he does look a bit panicked at the thought.

The two of you have gone and committed to the idea now, though, so it’s not like there’s anything you can do about it. You dress for sleep and crawl into the bed, Tewkesbury on the other side. It was definitely meant for one person, which is made clear when both of your efforts to give each other as much space as possible result in you practically falling onto the ground.

At last, you sigh and give in to what must be done. You turn on your side to face Tewkesbury and stretch out an arm to reach out to him. He stiffens at first, then turns over as well. Your head fits perfectly against his chest, and when his arm wraps around you, you wonder why either of you ever tried anything else. It’s as if you’re two halves of one being, always meant to be here together. The thought of ever getting up and splitting away from him feels like a strike through the heart.

Tewkesbury speaks quietly against the top of your head. “I’m glad you’re here. Really glad.”

You smile. “I’m glad too.”

It is easy to sleep after that, regardless of the fact that there’s a stranger out in the city who wishes for the quick death of both of you. Right here, nestled in Tewkesbury’s arms, the thought of danger has never even occurred to you. No safety net has ever been woven of stronger stuff. The stars wheel in the sky overhead and the two of you sleep soundly, brows smoothed of worry. All is well.

requested by @dexpairs-blog, i hope you enjoy!

enola holmes tag list: empty for now!

#tewkesbury #tewkesbury imagines #tewkesbury x reader #tewkesbury oneshot #enola holmes #enola holmes imagines #enola holmes oneshot #enola holmes tewkesbury #enola holmes tewkesbury x reader #enola holmes tewkesbury oneshot