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kimberly-spirits13 · 9 days ago

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Old Sweatpants

Pairing: Jason Todd x reader

Warnings: fem reader, blood, medical care (probably incorrect too 😁), suggestive joke but nothing explicit, language but not terrible

Summary: Jason gets injured on patrol and needs to be stitched up at your apartment. A pair of men's sweatpants living in the back of your closet stirs up his jealousy and leads to him telling you how he feels.

Word Count: 3075

Amazing art by @ciricearts !!! Specific work here

It started with you dragging Jason into your apartment through the fireescape. He's dead weight on your shoulder and you pull him through the window and heave him onto the couch. You were pissed with him, and he was infatuated with you. Jason had been stupid; reckless really. The two of you were saving a group of 20 somethings from a group of muggers who were eager to take whatever they could from the drunk party goers. You didn't understand why anyone wouldn't be sober at night in this city.

______________________________________________________________

Jason wasn't paying attention to the muggers as much as he should have when the two of you split through the group. The largest mugger was on the receiving end of a skull cracking take down from you. Apparently, Jason had been too busy watching you swinging your limbs around and drop kicking men twice your size to notice the youngest of the group pulling out a small revolver. Nervously, he pointed it at Jason and struggled to pull the hammer back. The moment that the leader hit the ground, you looked towards the bright red helment in leather that you knew was Jason, only to screech at him to move. He cocked his head to the side in confusion, still staring at you.

"Gun!" you yelled, getting up to tackle Jason out of the way.

A shot rang out. Wide eyed, you whirled your head around to see the young guy standing with the smoking gun, shaking and knees wobbling.

"I- I did it? I did it!" He almost jumped with joy, "Boss will be so happy with me and I can-"

You cut his celebration short by hurling a baton at him, hitting him square in the head and knocking him back cold. The gun clattered to the ground and you quickly took it into your possession incase someone woke back up.

"Call GCPD and don't leave until they show up." you sternly instructed the now very sober, and very scared group of young adults, "tell them to expect a firearm delivered to their ballistics department within 24 hours."

Quickly, you ran over to Jason, falling on your knees with rivulets of sweat running down your face. He was kneeled over, clutching his thigh as best he could.

"J- Hood!" You tore his hands from the wound to inspect, "You okay?" Your eyes were wildly scanning all over the torn fabric and dark blood pooling into your hands.

"Don't worry about me, Doll. Never been better." He winced

"What were you doing? You should have been paying attention!" Your voice was dripping with anger and laced with fear, "He's a street level thug who could hardly pull back the hammer, you should have seen him!"

"Got distracted" Jason tried to shrug his shoulders but missed the mark.

"You were staring, idiot." You shot him a glance, trying to shield his view from seeing the blush hazing on your cheeks.

"There was a show."

You mumbled something about him being an idiot under your breath and yanked out a tourniquet from your belt. The bullet hadn't done terrible damage, but he'd need stitches to keep it from bleeding heavily.

It was a miracle that you even got him to your apartment.

______________________________________________________________

"Y/N/N, I'm taking this thing off my leg." Jason loudly informed you as you dug through your bathroom cabinet to grab your medical kit.

"Jason Peter Todd, if you bleed all over my apartment I'll shoot you again!" You shouted back.

"Hey! There's no need for the full government name!" Jason watched as you speedily walked back to where he was sitting and opened up the kit, pulling out sewing needles and gause wrapped in plastic. He tilted his head and furrowed his brows in confusion when you suddenly stopped.

"I need to get your pants off." You almost choked out

Jason bit his cheek to hold back a loud laugh, "Well you're pretty upfront about what you want Y/N. Take me to dinner first though!"

You swatted his other leg, glaring up at him. Quickly, you helped Jason get out of his pants and saw the full wound gouged into his thigh. The two of you ignored the tension it created and awkard silence that the moment created. Quietly, you started disinfecting and stitching up his leg.

"You're lucky this didn't hit anything important." you muttered under your breath, concentration drowning out any other emotion

"It hit me" He joked, "Seems important enough."

"Not important enough for you to take care of apparently." You looked up at him suddenly a storm of emotion in your eyes, "Jason, you can't be so careless, you could have gotten seriously hurt."

"Didn't mean to worry you Doll." Jason's voice lost all of its comedy and turned serious.

"You're just a pretty view and all." He mumbled.

Your face became hot and you turned your gaze back to your work to pretend that you didn't hear what he just said. After a few more minutes of work, you stood up.

"I've got a pair of sweats in the closet that should fit you. Don't bust your stitches."

Jason's brain came to a violent and sudden hault at your words. What did you mean you had a pair of sweatpants that should fit him? Surely you didn't mean you were giving him sweatpants that you wore?

"Here ya go." You tossed the pants towards him and began heading towards the kitchen to make a snack.

Jason caught the sweatpants and stared at you, silent, and analyzing you intently. You could feel his silence seeping into your bones. It was like an infection slowly beating its way into your immune system and rendering it useless.

At the counter, you poured yourself a glass of water and glanced up at him, "You good?"

Jason nodded in response, still staying silent. The sweatpants fit. Why did you have men's sweatpants in your closet? You never wore them as far as he knew, they wouldn't fit. He didn't think you were seeing anyone, and definitely not sleeping with anyone. A bile rose up in his throat and his eyes became scratchy. His stomach cramped up and it felt like the room was beginning to spin.

"Whenever you get a chance, just give 'em back and I'll wash them." You were shoving your favorite post patrol snack in your mouth and giving him a pointed look.

His brain stopped again. You were planning on using these sweatpants for another time? For who?

"Want a snack?" You asked, analyzing his now stoic appearence.

He didn't respond.

"Yo, Jay. Snack?" You asked again.

"Oh- no. I'm fine. I'll bring these back later." Jason stood up and started for the window.

"Don't start putting stress on your leg too early. You can stay here as long as you need." You stressed.

Jason raised his hand to stop you, "Yea, I got it. Thanks."

"Want me to take you back to your place?" You starred at him, concerned.

"no it's fine. Thanks for the fix up."

"Anytime."

______________________________________________________________

Jason hopped out of your window and didn't talk to you for three days. You had messaged him a few times but he never responded. The night everything happened, he collasped onto his bed but couldn't fall asleep. He was angry, hurt, confused, and worst of all, it was pointed at you. The two of you weren't really anything official, but he thought the constant back and forth of flirtacious comments and intensly sensative late night conversations at his favorite gargoyle meant something. Jason felt stupid. Of course someone like you had someone. All of this must have been you being nice.

Three days after the entire ordeal, Dick was over at Jason's apartment and saw the pair of sweatpants hanging on a chair in the kitchen.

"Oh, did Y/N give you the complimentary sweatpants treatment?" Dick pointed and laughed

"What?" Jason whipped his head around and stared at his older brother in confusion.

"Those are my old sweatpants. They just stay at her apartment now since we-"

"You motherfucker!" Jason threw his body weight onto Dick and backed him into the wall with a loud thud, "I'm gonna beat the shit out of you!"

"Woah, woah! Chill dude!" Dick caught his breath again and stared at Jason in shock, "Holy shit, what's wrong with you?"

"You're fucking around with Y/N?" He spat, "You knew I liked her!"

"Huh?" Dick was bewildered and then it clicked.

Dick roared with laughter, tears falling down his face, "Oh dude, that's wild." "Y/N and I are not a thing! Never were, never have been."

Jason still didn't loosen his grip on Dick's shirt collar, "What's been going on then?"

Dick rolled his eyes, "I got stabbed and Y/N patched me up. She got a pair of sweats from the shop downstairs and ran them back upstairs so that I wasn't walking through Gotham in my underwear. I brought them back incase something happened again and now they're the designated injury sweatpants."

Jason starred at Dick, his gaze peircing through his skull, trying to find any hint of deceit.

"Everyone knows you two have a thing for each other. It's painfully obvious Jaybird." "You know she asked me about you. Apparently you haven't talked in three days?" Dick said, taking a sigh of relief when Jason finally put him down.

"what did she say?" Jason asked tentatively, eyes falling to the floor.

"She asked if you were alright. Apparently you kind of just walked out once she stitched you up- Jason- did you just stomp off without saying anything??" Dick went wide eyed at the realization.

"Maybe." Jason mumbled.

"Dude. You're an idiot." Dick said exasperatedly.

"I've been getting that a lot recently." Jason admitted, "I gotta go talk to Y/N."

"Uh yea, duh." Dick headed for the door, "Good luck little bro. If she throws you off a building, just know you were always my favorite!"

"Ha. Ha." Jason threw up his middle finger as Dick shut the door behind him.

He really hoped you weren't going to kill him.

______________________________________________________________

You were clacking away at your computer, chipping away at some work you needed to get done for a case. Your favorite drink was sitting next to your laptop, and you were trying not to focus on the fact that Jason was basically ghosting you. A day ago, you had decided you must have offended him at some point and now he was ignoring you. It was immature, really. You were mad that all of your attempts at extending an olive branch had fell through. After three days, you weren't even sure what you did wrong. The noises of your thoughts crept into your typing as you started writing out what you were thinking, and then with frustration, deleting the previous sentence. Your eyes shot up when you heard a faint knock at the door, and you shut the laptop and quietly headed for the door.

When you looked through the peephole, you saw the distorted shape of Jason standing in the hallway, head low and a nervous stance taking over his body. You huffed out quietly and swung open the door.

"Long time no see, Jaybirdy." You said, feigning a sweet voice, "Whatcha been up to recently?"

"Y/N/N, we need to talk." Jason looked at you carefully like he was waiting for you to combust

"You've got my sweatpants?" You raised a brow.

"oh, yea." Jason handed you the pair of sweatpants and you carefully looked them over for any blood stains.

Once you were satisfied, you stepped aside and beckoned him inside. You walked to the kitchen and opened up the fridge, taking out a small container and popping it open.

"You want some?" You asked.

"No. Thanks." Jason stood awkwardly and stared at you.

Irritated, you sighed, "Okay, what's this all about Jason?" You turned around and tossed the container back into the fridge and leaned onto the counter facing him again with a peircing gaze.

"I-uh- needed to apologize for walking out on you the other night. Wasn't cool." He stumbled through his apology.

You arched your brow and gave him a look saying "and"?

He caught the memo. "And not returning any of your texts... or calls." "Was being a dick."

Your shoulders dropped and you relaxed your stance, "Did I do something to offend you? You've never just walked out on me Jason, or ghosted me for that matter."

"No! No, not at all!" Jason raised his hands in front of him.

"Well? What was that all about?" Slight irritation glossed over your face and then disappeared again into an unreadable gaze.

"It's uh, kinda stupid." He stammered, "I thought you were dating someone."

"You what?" You pushed your head a little bit foward, showing that you didn't hear his quick mumbling.

"I thought you were dating someone!" He said finally.

Confusion was painting in your eyes, "Huh? Why?"

"Well, you handed me a pair of guy's sweatpants that actually fit like it was nothing and I didn't think it made sense that you just had them for yourself, so I just thought they were a boyfriend's or something." Jason explained, looking back at you for a reaction.

You shut your eyes and bit the inside of your cheek to keep from laughing, "Jay, I'm offended." A humorous smile graced your face.

Jason's heart skipped a few beats seeing it again.

"After all of this time; sitting with you; flirting with you, much to the dismay of everyone around us; talking for hours at your favorite gargoyle!" You laughed, needing a moment to regain your composure.

"Yea, I know." He rubbed the back of his neck in embarrassment.

"I got those after Dick got stabbed so that he wasn't wandering around Gotham in his boxers!"

"Yea, I know. He just told me." Jason glanced awkardly at you, "Kinda thought you two were a thing for a second."

You fake gagged at the notion and began walking around the counter to where he was standing, "Never. Never, ever, ever." You grimaced, "No offense to him."

"Doubt he'd mind." Jason let out a breathy laugh, "He pointed out that we're apparently very obvious."

"Obvious about what?" You questioned his noncommittal comment, knowing what he was talking about. You wanted him to admit it.

Jason felt his cheeks heat up and his eyes widen for a second.

"Well, I uh- I guess about the flirting- and stuff. Ya know. We do that a lot apparently." He fumbled around the words, trying to find the least awkward response, and managing to make it the most awkward.

"Yea- and why do you flirt around with me?" You asked, starring a hole into his soul.

"well, I mean- I guess that's what you do when you uh- like someone?" He stammered, the blush on his cheeks becoming more vibrant.

"You like me?" You reiterated.

"I mean, yea Y/N/N. You're the only person I've ever cared about like this." He looked at you like he wasn't anticipating for those words to come out, "Shit- I- I hope that doesn't make it weird. I can just leave, you probably don't feel that way."

Jason turned around, ready to make a speedy retreat for the front door. Goosebumps painted his arms when he felt you grab his wrist and pull him back towards you. You didn't let go.

"Jason Peter Todd, don't walk out on me again." You said, pulling him close.

"Again with the government names, Y/N, I feel like I'm in trouble." His breath hitched and he looked into your eyes trying to discern what you were thinking.

"Don't run away from me and I won't need to Jaybird." You said softly, "I like you a lot too. Just wanted you to make a move."

Jason felt his throat close up and open again for him to take a breath. His knees went numb and a buzzing noise entered his mind and left as quickly as it came. He was short circuting in real time.

"You do?"

"Yeah dumby. I don't stay out on a gargoyle IN GOTHAM for anyone." You emphasized, "You- you're my best friend Jay. And not like friend zone best friend. You're my favorite person."

Jason didn't say anything, just stared at you with his mouth slightly ajar.

You signed and your voice went soft, a vulnerability seeping into your voice, "I was hurt when you just went away. I thought I did something to hurt you and it didn't seem like you wanted to let me fix anything."

Jason gripped your hand harder and grabbed the other one, "No Y/N. I'm sorry, I should have talked to you." "I hate the miscommunication trope and here we are."

Your laugh made him smile. It was his greatest achievement in life. All he wanted to do was be the reason that you were smiling, never the reason you were upset and doubting your value to him.

"It's alright Jay. Just talk to me, okay?" You gently traced your thumb over his hand.

"Okay." He nodded.

There was a silence that filled the room again.

"What do we do now?" You asked softly.

"You wanted me to make the first move, right?" He replied.

"I mean, yea, kinda." You shrugged looking into his eyes.

"Well-" Jason leaned down and threaded his hands through your hair before moving to hold the back of your head before kissing you like he had been waiting for it his entire life.

Your eyes were wide with shock before you shut them tight and threw your arms over his shoulders, pulling him in closer and running your fingers through his hair. He tried to pull back at one point, but you tugged on the soft curls and brought him back in. He moved his hands to your waist, backing you into the counter, and complied with the demand.

After a minute, your chest burned and you pulled back, Jason's arms still wrapped around you before he picked you up and sat you on the counter ledge. He stood between your legs and kept you close.

"What if I take you out?" He asked breathless.

"Only if it means you'll kiss me like that again." You answered.

"Anytime." Jason smirked, "and maybe we'll get some new sweatpants to leave in your closet. Ya know. Just incase."

"Just incase." You nodded with a smile.

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mariasont · 3 months ago

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Casualties Of Control - A.H

caught in a moment of panic, you freeze, but hotch guides your next moves, revealing just how comforting surrendering control can be

pairings: aaron hotchner x sweetheart!reader warnings: age gap, power imbalance, sexual tension, anxiety/self-doubt galore, gun violence, near-death experience, hurt/comfort, depictions of trauma responses, authority kink, themes of submission and control, brief mention of parental emotional neglect wc: 3k request: here

You were starting to think someone should stage an intervention, maybe Garcia or JJ, because this is getting borderline pathetic. More specifically, you, are getting borderline pathetic.

The second Hotch speaks, reality melts into background noise, and you’re zeroed in on the column of his throat, the subtle movement of muscle beneath perfectly pressed shirt collars.

You’re standing in the middle of a crime scene, dirt kicking up around your sensible shoes, yet all you can think about is the shift of tension in his jaw. Tighten, loosen, swallow — rinse and repeat. It’s mortifying, really, this fixation.

You wonder why it happens or if he even realizes he’s doing it. Maybe it’s an unconscious reflex, his overwhelming need for control compressed into a single, visible place. Authority, responsibility, and his entire leadership style condensed into that twitch. It’d be poetic if it wasn’t so distracting.

And really, truly, genuinely, you need to pull yourself together because Morgan is giving you a side-eye that suggests he’s not only noticed your gawking, but worse, has developed several theories about it.

Hotch’s instructions spill out rapid fire, and you’re halfway to zoning out, catching snippets — Morgan, perimeter. Reid, coordinate with local PD.

You force yourself to tune in just in time to realize you’ve missed most of what he’s saying, something vaguely alarming about the missing witness slipping past your ears. When Hotch says your name, you flinch, probably visibly, and snap upright, trying (likely failing spectacularly) to look alert.

“You’re with me.”

And then he’s turning, moving, and naturally, instinctively, you fall into step beside him.

It’s fine, you reason, it’s not that you mind. You really don’t. Still, there’s a small part of you, buried beneath layers of admiration and self-doubt, that’s starting to twitch with impatience. You’ve been here for five cases now and you assumed by this point you’d graduate from perpetual trainee shadow to, well, anything else.

You remember Reid telling you he earned independence fairly quickly, and Morgan practically started the job fully formed. But you’re still following dutifully in Hotch’s shadow, like a duckling too nervous to swim on its own. Is it him? Is it you? Is there some glaring flaw he sees, something that screams liability, too-green-to-function-alone? You bite the inside of your cheek, silencing your insecurities before they start screaming louder.

You’re practically speed-walking at this point, struggling to match Hotch’s long strides as the sun cooks your brain into a scrambled mush.

Your fingertips shield your eyes, squinting hard against the glare, cursing your impulsiveness — rushing out this morning after the team like a lovesick intern, leaving behind basic necessities like water. Rookie mistake. You’ll be dehydrated and delirious by noon, hallucinating your own incompetence in vivid detail.

Hotch doesn't even spare you a sidelong glance your way when he thrusts a water bottle toward you, eyes still scanning the horizon, speaking into his radio.

You stare dumbly at it for a second, and he must sense your confusion, because he tacks on, “You always forget to grab one. Drink.”

It sounds more gentle chiding than reprimand, but your face warms all the same.

The moment the bottle touches your lips, your body moves on autopilot, obeying Hotch’s casual command like it’s ingrained in your DNA. You’re pretty sure that’s concerning, how effortlessly you bend to his wishes, but introspection on that front can wait, especially since you’re burning alive under more than just the summer heat.

Without conscious thought, you offer the bottle back to him.

Hotch pauses mid-sentence, the radio chatter fading momentarily as he eyes the bottle in mild confusion.

But he takes it, pressing his mouth exactly where yours had been just seconds ago.

The simple action triggers a cascade of horribly inappropriate thoughts — mostly involving other, much less professional ways you’d rather be sharing space with his lips. Your imagination provides a cinematic experience of saliva exchange methods that have absolutely nothing to do with staying hydrated.

Wonderful.

Your brain officially needs adult supervision.

Hotch, unfortunately observant, asks immediately, “You okay?”

“Fine!” Your voice pitches too high. Words tumble recklessly from your lips, an avalanche of rational-sounding nonsense designed solely to bury the fact that you’ve gone and made this weird. “Actually, if the unsub abducted the witness from the parking lot instead of her home, doesn’t that significantly change the risk factor? Public place, daylight — it would require confidence. That implies either past experiences or familiarity with the location —,”

You’re practically tripping over your own tongue, but your reasoning sounds airtight, thankfully. Because while your mouth may be spewing perfectly acceptable analysis, your brain is still utterly fixated on Hotch’s lips and their newly established indirect intimacy.

Please let him not notice that.

Hotch considers your point, oblivious to your internal meltdown — or mercifully pretending to be. “That’s a good point.”

You’re in said parking lot before you realize it, baking on the blacktop, the car ride here an absolute blank.

It’s so hot your shoes practically fuse with the pavement, sticking with every step. Hastily shoving sunglasses onto your nose provides some mercy, but it does little to shield you from the full-body assault of sunlight, droplets of sweat quickly making trails down your collarbones.

Reid would undoubtedly be rattling off something about albedo, thermal something-or-other, or some complicated explanation he pulled from a random academic paper. You simply classify it as outrageously, freakishly hot.

Hotch stands near the SUV, jacket discarded in favor of rolled-up sleeves.

You discreetly pop open two buttons at your collar, self-consciousness momentarily forgotten in your bid for self-preservation, fingers grazing sweaty skin.

Hotch’s mild, pointed throat-clear pulls your attention sharply, and your hands fall innocently back to your sides.

He returns his gaze to the lot, brow furrowed in thought as he begins, “So, our unsub takes a woman from a busy parking lot in broad daylight, and nobody notices. What’s your read on that?”

You swallow painfully.

“Either he’s invisible, or everyone else is oblivious. Maybe both. More realistically, he’s non-threatening — at least initially. Approachable, trustworthy enough to not raise any red flags.”

His eyes flicker to the security cameras. “The unsub knew enough to pick a blind spot and a busy hour. Probably wasn’t his first time.”

“Right,” you agree. “Plus, no personal items were left behind, her keys, phone, everything gone with her. She went willingly at first.”

“Or he was convincing enough to make it appear that way,” Hotch adds.

Sweat trickles annoyingly down your spine, pooling uncomfortably between your shoulder blades. You glance sideways at Hotch, baffled by how unfazed he seems, looking like he’s casually waiting in a nice, breezy room rather than cooking alive in this inferno masquerading as a parking lot.

“I want you to check the eastern side, see if local PD missed anything.”

There’s a flash of doubt, a brief impulse to argue that maybe your efforts would be better spent elsewhere. A tiny voice in the back of your mind suggests hesitantly that maybe you’d earn his respect if, just once, you challenged his orders instead of quietly complying. But that impulse quickly wilts under the addictive rush you feel in gaining his approval.

It’s uncomfortable to admit, even privately, that you like the certainty of following his lead. You trust his judgment implicitly, which is a dangerous revelation you haven’t been able to shake. But even as the realization unsettles you, you’re already heading toward the eastern side, willingly and undeniably eager to please.

You’ve built your whole identity around color-coded calendars, neatly ordered lists, and near-pathological insistence on control. Yet, somehow, here you are, feeling embarrassingly grateful, borderline euphoric, simply because Aaron Hotchner told you exactly where to stand. You’ve either hit rock bottom or stumbled onto a whole new level of pathetic, jury’s still out. Deep down, you suspect you should be significantly more concerned about your state of mind than you actually are.

After a fruitless couple of hours spent cooking yourself alive on the asphalt, Hotch finally takes mercy on you, shepherding you back into the blessed relief of the artificially cooled paradise of the station.

You have a complicated relationship with local police stations. Sure, they’re usually air-conditioned, blessedly cool havens compared to the heat simmering outside. But then again, they’re always saturated with that same smell of charred coffee and day-old donuts. This station, particularly, is no exception.

You push aside your petty complaints, focusing instead on Hotch’s directive to pair up with Prentiss and sift through alibis the local PD has halfheartedly checked.

You had gotten straight to work, ostensibly because it was necessary but mostly to distract yourself from the soul-crushing awareness Emily’s presence always inspired. She’d always been calm, collected, entirely too put-together, a combination that paradoxically eased your mind while also amplifying every self-conscious insecurity you owned.

You vividly recall your first few interactions with her, particularly the time she’d gently pointed out you’d been reading the map upside-down for five solid minutes.

The memory makes you cringe even now, but Emily had laughed with you, not at you, instantly easing your embarrassment. From the start, she’d balanced teasing and patience, correcting your mistakes without ever making you feel incompetent. It only deepened your appreciation, and, if you were being honest, your mild hero-worship of her.

Your nostalgic reverie about Emily implodes instantly, ruthlessly obliterated by the sudden deafening crack of gunfire.

The room seems to tumble sideways, your equilibrium evaporation, replaced by sickening vertigo.

The bullet glimmers so close to your temple that it nudges your hair, a grotesque mockery of intimacy.

Your mind barely has time to piece together what’s happened before the shouting starts, voices exploding around you. In a dizzy blur, uniforms flood the space, tackling the unsub to the ground.

You stare forward, dazed, your senses dialed down to a murmur as if you’ve sunken underwater without realizing it. Emily materializes in front of you, blurred at first, then rapidly sharpening into focus, her lips moving quickly, shaping syllables you can’t fully grasp. Her face reflects fierce urgency, her stance instinctively protective, something that vaguely registers, but your thoughts stay stubbornly cloudly, lost somewhere between numb disbelief and fragmented comprehension.

Reality rushes back in as Emily’s voice finally floods your ears, her gaze anxiously probing yours for confirmation that you’re alright.

“I’m fine,” you reassure quickly, the words steady enough that they almost convince even you. “What do you need me to do?”

How could you freeze like that?

Breathe in. Count to three. Exhale slowly. You push the panic bubbling up into a box neatly stored behind well-worn barriers of composure. Control slides gracefully back into position, a transparent illusion spun from willpower alone.

Your mother had been your first and relentless instructor, composure valued above tenderness, flawlessness demanded before comfort was ever considered. Beneath perfectly pinned-up hair and practiced smiles, she’d etched these lessons deeply. You’ve always been made from shards, a careful mosaic of concealed fractures, sewn together by unsaid apologies and quiet disappointments.

You learned early on that the safest place was behind a perfected facade.

She places a hand on your arm. “Maybe you should sit down for a minute.”

“Really, Em, I’m okay,” you assure her quickly. It fits perfectly, even if it feels painfully dishonest now. “Just tell me what you need next.”

You feel your reassurance wobbling like a well-used record, repetitive and empty, but you don’t trust yourself to say anything else. If you speak too openly, you risk Emily seeing the brittleness beneath your words, the terrifying image branded behind your eyes — your body lying cold, lifeless on the station floor, if you had just been one inch to the left. Your father would’ve gotten that call, your desk would’ve been quietly emptied, and your entire life would’ve ended mid-sentence.

Hotch moves purposefully into your line of sight.

Your attention snags on the empty space where Emily had just stood. You hadn’t noticed her leaving, but that’s typical — Hotch tends to clear the space around you, intentional or not, whenever he addresses you directly. You wonder briefly if it’s because he senses your tendency to falter under scrutiny, or perhaps because he expects you to embarrass yourself again.

How long has he been standing there, waiting patiently for your response?

“Sorry,” you say quickly, refocusing on his face. “Could you repeat that?”

His voice is steady as he repeats, more gently this time, “I asked if you’re hurt.”

“No.”

You glance down quickly immediately afterward. You’re not even sure that’s true — had you actually checked, or had the adrenaline blocked out any injuries? You scan yourself quickly, a little unsure, a lot overwhelmed. Nothing seems wrong, at least nothing visible, but then your attention flits anxiously around the room, eyes instinctively looking for the unsub.

They tackled him, right? So where did they take him afterward — was he cuffed, detained, secured? More importantly, did they figure out why he barged in and opened fire?

Hotch’s gaze sweeps quickly over you before his hands are gently tipping your head, his fingertips lightly exploring the place where the bullet almost found its mark. Warm fingers carefully part your hair, brushing just above your ear, and suddenly, you’re painfully aware of how tender he’s being, despite everything.

“Just to be safe, the EMTs will check you out,” he says, confident you’re unharmed but cautious nonetheless.

You nod, but you know exactly what he’s thinking, exactly what he must have seen. You were careless, oblivious — frozen solid at the worst possible moment. You’d slipped, and it almost cost everything. Your incompetence nearly ended your life, it could’ve endangered Emily, Hotch, the team.

How could he trust you after this? Shame blooms hotly, choking your breath, because you know better.

This job doesn’t allow second chances, and you nearly used yours up.

“I’ll just — let me find Emily, then we can —,”

“You’re not doing anything right now.” Hotch’s interruption is firm, an immovable wall you know you can’t scale. “You’re staying exactly here until I say otherwise.”

You feel the sting of his words, immediately interpreting them as proof he no longer trusts you.

“I’m not restricting you because of anything you did or didn’t do,” he says firmly, understanding clear in his eyes. “You’ve just experienced severe trauma. The EMTs will check you out first, then I’ll bring you up to speed. You’re not being sidelined. I’m going to handle the scene, and once everything is secure, we will regroup and go from there. Do you understand?”

You nod, but your trust feels tissue-thin, easily shredded by self-doubt. Hotch studies you carefully, eyes narrowing just enough to communicate clearly that he knows exactly how hollow your assurance really is.

Still, he nods back gently, pulling out a chair. You sit.

Hotch effortlessly stepped into the space your panic had left open. You watched as he moved calmly through the room, issuing commands. He spoke briefly with the EMTs first, outlining precisely what they needed to check, sparing you the uncomfortable necessity of trying to articulate your confusion.

Moments later, another water bottle appeared in your grapes, placed decisively by Hotch, who barely broke stride in his quiet management of everything around you.

He anticipated your questions and worries before you could voice them, confirming that the unsub was secure and that no one else was injured.

Each directive he gave on your behalf made you aware of just how badly you needed this — someone stronger, steadier, more certain than yourself, carefully taking control away.

Discovering that surrendering control could feel like finally breathing after holding your breath for far too long was unsettling yet profoundly comforting.

The EMT now moves cautiously around you, examining the side of your head, brushing your hair aside to search for injuries you know aren’t there. Still, you remain perfectly still.

You find Hotch standing nearby, arms loosely crossed, fixed on the EMT’s every movement. He occasionally interrupts with instructions, and the micromanagement that should feel excessive but instead makes you feel grateful.

“I’m sorry,” you finally blurt out. “I completely blanked today. I didn’t respond when I should’ve, and it put everyone in danger. I should’ve been more alert, and…”

You swallow thickly, shame edging painfully into your words, gaze fixed stubbornly downward.

“You didn’t blank,” Hotch interrupts. “You experienced something called perceptual narrowing. It’s common under severe stress, especially when you’re caught completely off-guard. Your brain was trying to process too much at once, it’s an instinctive reaction, not a failure.”

You nod hesitantly, biting your lip as you struggle to voice your lingering frustration. “I know that makes sense, but it’s more than just freezing. It’s afterward when I realized how little I actually contributed.”

“You weren’t supposed to contribute right then,” Hotch reminds you. “You were under strict instructions to stay exactly here and let me handle the rest. Trust me, I can manage just fine.” His eyes glimmer briefly with amusement. “Unless you’re saying you don’t trust me to take control?”

You quickly shake your head, cheeks burning hotter now that the EMT has moved away, leaving no buffer between you and Hotch.

“No — no, that’s not what I meant,” you stammer. “Of course I trust you. Probably more than —” You catch yourself abruptly, clearing your throat awkwardly. “I mean, I trust your judgment completely.”

Hotch regards you for a moment, a faint, knowing smile ghosting briefly across his lips before he masks it again.

“I know what you meant,” he says evenly, though the warmth in his voice suggests he heard far more than your careful correction. “I appreciate your trust.” He pauses briefly. “I’ll try not to abuse it.”

Abuse it. That is such a potent phrase. Could he? Would he? The rational answer is no, but another voice counters with maybe. The potential hangs there, tantalizing and terrifying in equal measure. You’ve handed him someone precious, breakable, and yet the risk of abuse feels softer, sweeter, when it’s him.

“You wouldn’t,” you whisper after a moment. “But I think even if you did, I might forgive you.”

💌 masterlist taglist has been disbanned! if you want to get updates about my writings follow and turn notifications on for my account strictly for reblogging my works! @mariasreblogs

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner #criminal minds #aaron hotchner x fem reader #criminal minds fic #hotch #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner oneshot #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner one shot #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner angst #aaron hotchner hurt/comfort #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x sweetheart!reader #sweetheart!reader #🌺 maria writes

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fuckingrecipes · 8 months ago

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Cooking question I'm too embarrassed to ask someone IRL: how easy or hard is it to accidentally poison yourself?

I know not to eat things that are too old (past the best-by date, changed color etc), I know not to eat things that were burned. I know to be careful about handling raw meat. I know how to store leftovers. I know to pay attention to instructions on the package and to check if the package is damaged etc.

But at the same time... well, a lot of cooking advice I've seen over the years includes some variation of "try things out, see what you like!" and I'd kind of like to do that. But if the results turn out inedible, I'd like them to be "inedible" as in "tastes very bad" and not "inedible" as in "going to upset your stomach" or "send you to the hospital"

If I try to cook/bake/roast/fry/whatever a food that can be eaten raw, like fruit, what are the odds that the result will be safe to eat?

What about lettuce? I'm aware it would probably taste bad, but would it be safe to try?

If I mix random liquid-y things from my pantry to make a sauce for whatever vegetables&meat I'm frying, what are the odds the result would be safe to eat? (Assuming all the components are edible by themself, I'm NOT talking about cleaning solutions or dish soap or whatever)

What might be some questions I don't even know I should check?

If I try to cook/bake/roast/fry/whatever a food that can be eaten raw, like fruit, what are the odds that the result will be safe to eat? If I mix random liquid-y things from my pantry to make a sauce for whatever vegetables&meat I'm frying, what are the odds the result would be safe to eat?

100% safe. There is a ZERO (0%) percent chance of accidentally creating a poison when cooking a safe-to-eat-raw food item.

You're not going to accidentally create a poison when you mix spices, sauces, or various edible ingredients together.

It's just not how chemistry works. With no exception I can think of, you can't take one safe-to-eat plant or animal and cook it or mix it with another in a way that will create a toxic substance.

Cooking lettuce to eat is safe. Cooking whole fruit is safe. Mixing a hundred sauces together is safe. Go for it.

I could take a sample of every single individually edible item in my fridge, pantry, and spice cabinet, blend it all into a big slurry, cook it & eat a portion of that concoction with confidence that I won't die from it. While it may be gross and taste bad, it won't actually harm me. It won't be a poison, no matter how many different types of food ingredients are tossed into the pot.

I cannot guarantee that you will never upset your stomach, because you could be sensitive to or allergic to an ingredient that I don't know about. It's not a poison to all humans, but it'd be uncomfortable to you. You can only learn about that through experience.

What CAN be dangerous:

Improper sterilization and improper technique can accidentally leave poison-producing bacteria or mold to breed when canning or fermenting foods.

Eating large amounts of a couple specific foods can be risky. There's not a lot of these, so here's a list of the big names to keep an eye on:

Cassia (common) cinnamon has a chemical that is toxic in larger quantities, but harmless in small quantities. If you eat 2 teaspoons a day, every day, you'll run into trouble. If you use Ceylon cinnamon instead, you can eat pretty much as much as you want.

Don't eat a whole nutmeg. It's wonderful when used sparingly, but can be poisonous in large amounts. Same rule as Cassia cinnamon: 2 teaspoons a day, every day, will get you into trouble. Eat less or less often.

Eating too much Liver (the organ) can cause copper toxicity and Vitamin A toxicity. It's great for you when added to a meal once a week, or a couple times a month, but shouldn't be eaten daily or in huge amounts.

Don't swallow cherry pits. They're generally harmless when swallowed whole, because they pass through digestion unscathed, but if they're crushed or cracked open first they release a compound that turns into cyanide when digested. Our body handles cyanide pretty well, but 4-5 cracked pits can become harmful. So: Don't chew them, and don't swallow them on purpose.

There are some foods which need special preparation to be made safe. They're safe COOKED, but not RAW.

Cooked beans & legumes are safe to eat. But if you're starting from a totally DRY bean or lentil (canned are pre-cooked) make sure to soak them in water for several hours and boil until they're FULLY COOKED before you eat. (Fully cooked is when you can crush them easily with a fork, with no gritty or hard center) Undercooked or uncooked beans & legumes can fuck up your guts real good. Very painful, horribly unpleasant, but probably won't kill you.

Cassava (the root vegetable that tapioca is made from) MUST be thoroughly cooked before eating. Raw cassava can be toxic. It's another cyanide bro.

Don't eat raw potatoes - always cook them. If your potatoes have sprouted, don't eat the sprouts & peel any green skin off. Tbh tho, an adult would need to eat at least a pound of green potatoes to get sick. Be reasonably cautious about it. Don't feed green potatoes to small children.

Note: This advice is intended for someone who shops at a grocery for their food, not someone who is foraging for ingredients or is growing their own. There's a lot more opportunities to poison yourself when working with whole plants in the wild, and not the prepared-for-sale ones at a store.

#food safety #cooking #kitchen tips #fuckingrecipes

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gf2bellamy · 5 months ago

Text

protective — aaron hotchner

pairing: aaron hotchner x reader ( no use of y/n ) summary: hotch doesn't let you do your job because he's too worried content warnings: reader is sort of aware of hotch's feelings, bau surrounding unsubs house, reader is irritated

The team stood huddled near the black SUV. The tension was palpable as Derek outlined the plan.

“We’ll go in from the left,” Derek said, his voice calm as he nodded toward you, his eyes searching yours for confirmation.

You shifted slightly, adjusting the weight of your vest as you nodded back, trying to push down the nervous energy thrumming in your veins. “Got it,” you replied, your tone firmer than you felt.

Before you could fully process the plan, Hotch stepped forward. “No,” he interjected, his deep voice calm but resolute. “I’ll go with Morgan.”

The words hung in the air for a beat too long. His dark eyes met yours, unwavering.

“Hotch—” you started to protest, but his sharp gaze silenced you. Not unkind, but firm.

He wasn’t giving you a choice.

“This isn’t up for debate,” Hotch said, his tone softening slightly as he turned back to the group.

He began giving instructions, his voice cutting through the tension like a blade. “Reid, take the back exit with JJ.”

The team dispersed quickly, each moving to their assigned positions. But as the group spread out, you remained rooted in place, realizing you’d been left without a specific task.

Hotch finally turned toward you, his expression unreadable. “You’ll stay here,” he said simply, gesturing to the black SUV. “We need someone ready to coordinate backup if this goes south.”

Your stomach twisted at his words. Stay outside? That was it? After everything—after proving yourself time and time again—you were sidelined?

Your jaw tightened, frustration bubbling under the surface. You opened your mouth to argue but stopped yourself at the last second.

This wasn’t the time.

Not with the unsub barricaded in the house, the potential for danger at its peak.

“Yes, sir,” you said tersely, your voice clipped as you forced yourself to fall in line.

You didn’t miss the flicker of something in his eyes—was it guilt? Concern? Whatever it was, it was gone before you could figure it out. He gave you a small nod and turned back to join Derek.

The others moved out, slipping into the shadows as they approached the house, leaving you standing next to the SUV with the bitter taste of frustration in your mouth.

You watched them go, your chest tightening as Hotch disappeared from view.

You knew better than to second-guess him, especially in the field. But as you stood there, gripping your comms radio tightly, you couldn’t help but feel like you’d been benched for reasons that had nothing to do with strategy—and everything to do with Hotch’s unspoken worry.

It was maddening. Yet, deep down, a part of you couldn’t entirely fault him for it.

Not when you knew the way he looked at you, how he couldn’t seem to keep the lines between personal and professional from blurring sometimes.

Even now, as irritation simmered under your skin, you couldn’t ignore the subtle warmth creeping into your chest at the thought.

Shaking your head, you forced the distraction away and focused on the radio, ears straining for updates. You couldn’t let yourself dwell on Hotch’s motives—not when the team was walking into the lion’s den.

Hours later, the case was over. The unsub was in custody, and the adrenaline that had fueled you during the operation had long since burned out.

Now, you sat in the team’s jet, staring blankly out the window.

A book rested in your lap, open to a page you hadn’t read a single word of.

Your thoughts circled back to Hotch’s orders from earlier, replaying his tone, his expression, his decision to sideline you.

You sighed quietly, shifting in your seat, and let your eyes wander to the empty one in front of you. You’d intentionally picked a spot away from the others, hoping it would help ease the frustration still twisting in your chest.

It didn’t.

You tilted your head back against the seat, closing your eyes for a moment.

The sound of soft footsteps drew your attention. You opened your eyes to see Hotch making his way down the aisle. His gaze swept over the cabin before landing on you.

For a brief second, you considered pretending to be asleep, but the intensity in his eyes made it clear that wasn’t an option.

He stopped next to your seat, his voice low enough not to draw the others’ attention. “Mind if I sit?”

You hesitated, but only for a moment. With a small nod, you gestured to the empty seat across from you.

Hotch lowered himself into the chair, his posture as straight and composed as ever, though his eyes held a flicker of something softer. He leaned slightly forward as he studied you.

“You’ve been quiet,” he said finally, his tone careful, probing.

You let out a dry laugh, shaking your head as you closed the book and set it aside. “Didn’t think I had much to say,” you replied, the words laced with more bitterness than you intended.

Hotch didn’t react, his expression remaining unreadable. “You’re upset about earlier,” he said plainly, cutting straight to the point.

“Upset?” you repeated, meeting his gaze. “I was benched, Hotch. What do you think?”

His jaw tightened slightly, and for a moment, he didn’t respond. When he finally spoke, his voice was quieter, almost gentle. “It wasn’t about your abilities.”

“Then what was it about?” you pressed, leaning forward, unable to keep the frustration out of your tone. “Because it sure felt like I was being pushed aside for no good reason.”

He sighed, rubbing a hand over his face briefly before meeting your eyes again. “It was about risk. About keeping you safe.”

You stared at him, his words sinking in like a stone dropping into a still pond. Part of you wanted to argue.

But another part—the part that couldn’t ignore the way his voice softened when he looked at you—understood.

“Hotch,” you said, your voice quieter now, more measured. “I know you care about the team. About all of us. But you can’t make decisions like that—decisions that feel personal—on a case. It’s not fair. To me or to anyone else.”

He looked down for a moment, his lips pressing into a thin line. When he looked back up, there was something raw in his eyes—something he rarely let show.

“You’re right,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “It wasn’t fair. But that doesn’t mean I’d make a different choice.”

The honesty in his words caught you off guard, leaving you momentarily speechless.

“I can’t separate how I feel about you from the job,” he continued, his gaze steady on yours. “And maybe that’s something we need to talk about. But not here.”

Your breath caught in your throat.

For a long moment, neither of you spoke, the hum of the jet filling the silence. Finally, you nodded, your frustration giving way to something else entirely.

“Okay,” you said softly, a small, tentative smile tugging at the corner of your lips. “We’ll talk.”

Hotch gave a slight nod, a flicker of relief crossing his features before he stood.

As he walked back to his seat, you felt the weight in your chest begin to lift, replaced by a nervous anticipation that you weren’t sure how to process.

#aaron hotchner angst #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #aaron hotchner x you #criminal minds x you

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w1ll0wray · 6 months ago

Text

CAREFUL, I BITE! ft. vampire jinx x fem!reader

⊹₊⟡⋆ summary : being a Kiramman meant enduring social events your mother hosted. once the clock hits christmas eve, a dinner party is always held. however, you knew what that signified— disastrous guests— who add a dash of spice to your night.

⊹₊⟡⋆ warnings: sub!jinx x dom!femreader, jinx receiving strap, past enemies, strap usage, pet name (toots), vampire!jinx x vampire!reader, kiramman!reader, caitlyn is ur sister, men or minors dni, slightly nsfw, smut, mention of forced marriage, harsh words, aftercare.

wc. 4.4k

𐙚 note | I’d really appreciate it if you would not only just like, but also reblog & give me feedback. thank you:)

The bats scattered from the treetops, their wings slicing through the thick night air. Inside, the Kiramman household fell into an unnatural silence, servants terrified for their lives. Lifting your head up from your book, you frowned at the scream your mother had just let out.

You sigh, sliding a book stopper in the page you arrived to, leaving your book on the plush, dark red couch. Walking towards your enraged mother, you placed a hand on her shoulder, “Is there a specific reason as to why—?”

“—The plates-!” She yelled, pointing at the extravagant tableware exclusively shipped from Japan. You raised a brow, turning to the servants who stood frozen.

“I don’t see a problem with them.” You traced the intricate details with manicured nails. Your mother, however, groaned in irritation, “I specifically asked for the traditional Kiramman ones!” She whined, facing the servants, instructing them to replace the current ones.

Once she got out of the dining room, you rolled your eyes at her panicked attitude. Though, someone seemed to have caught you.

“Making fun of mother, are you?” Your sister called out, appearing out of nowhere as usual. She leaned against the dark marble wall, wearing a white dress shirt and tailored deep navy pants, beating you at dressing up for the special event tonight.

You waved an annoyed, dismissal hand at her, “Go snog your fiancé.” Turning away to grab your book, you didn’t notice her standing only inch’s away now. Yelping at her sudden teleportation, you pushed her away, “Ugh, Cait!”

She chuckled, placing her hands on her hips, eyeing your attire, “You’re still in your sleepwear.” Her fingers pinched the satin material of your set, “Isn’t this mine?”

Slapping her hand away, you giggled, “Took you long enough to notice—seems like Violet has entirely captured your attention.” You hum out, enjoying her dumbfounded expression before rushing through the halls and into your room.

Knowing your family, they probably told the guests to arrive an hour earlier incase the snow heavily blocked the main roads. Tonight was Christmas Eve, a night in which your family hosts a grand dinner and invites all their business partners. For you, you only tolerated it because mother always promised to spoil you with gifts afterwards.

Rapidly changing out of your daywear, you slid into your flowy gown. It was a midnight blue, a corset sitting snug around your waist decorated heavily with intricate black lace and designs. Along with it, the dress exposed your shoulders until the low sleeves hugged your forearms. Humming a tune and putting on a pendant, you heard guests flooding the living rooms downstairs.

“Great.” You sarcastically muttered, unclasping the lid of your burgundy lipstick, coating your lips with it. After making sure you looked appealing to the public and Kiramman name, you slid into the different living rooms.

Greeted by numerous guests, you slap on a smile and pretend to thank them for coming. In the corner of your eye, you noticed Caitlyn doing the exact same, but a slightly shorter, pink-haired woman right beside her.

You smiled at how adorable they looked together, remembering when your mother had caught Vi in Cait’s bed after last years dinner. To be fair, Vi did come from a wealthy, vampiric background, her father owned the mines containing all the beautiful gems. So truth to be told, your parents had let her join the family.

Sneakily escaping the crowd, you slid into another living room, where your father was. Jumping in surprise, you let out a small apology. Not even glancing at who he was speaking to, you tried to get out—but your name falling from his lips force you to stay put.

Slowly turning back to him, you finally realize who stood beside him. Two men in traditional, formal attire, met your eyes. One, you recognized as Vander. The other..had a scar on one side of his face.

Father gently took your hand in his, pulling you beside him, “This is my youngest.” He introduced you, patting your back when you slightly bow your head. Vander smiles warm-heartedly, “It’s nice to finally meet you, sweetheart.”

He then turns his head to look for someone, “Claggor— Come here!” You tried not to let your smile slip as a boy a bit older approached. Vander had his hand on his son’s shoulder, “This is Claggor—my oldest. The rest of them are scattered around the house somewhere.” He joked, chuckling at his own joke, but you laughed along.

You glance at Silco, who seemed to be studying you, skepticism evident in his gaze. Feeling a bit out of place, you dismiss yourself and enter the other living room reserved for the younger guests.

Immediately spotting all your cousins sitting at a corner in the room, you didn’t peer to the left to even notice who played at the pool table.

Halfway through reaching your cousins, a loud cheer and a familiar raspy voice prompt you to snap your head to the left.

“Score! Ekko you suck ass at this—might s’well just quit.” Anyone would recognize the owner of the voice.

The one and only—

“Oh my god, toots!” Her arm wraps around your shoulder, playfully forcing you into a hug where you’re mostly squished. Groaning at the lack of oxygen, you pull away, squinting your eyes at her, “Stop calling me that.”

She rolls her eyes, her fingers messing up your hairdo, causing you to push her off in pure frustration, “We haven’t seen each other in a year!” Jinx eyes your attire for a split second before walking back to the pool table, where Ekko, Vi and Caitlyn played.

“Jinx, stop annoying her.” Ekko whispered as you drew near, inspecting her dress shirt and dark pants. Jinx only graced you with a quick glance, turning her attention to picking the stick back up to play. Crossing your arms, you grew bored of watching them fight at who was better, and made your way over to your cousins.

Big mistake.

The minute you sat down with them, all they could chat about was how expensive their next shopping item would be. In addition, the cousin you tolerated the most, suddenly whispered vile words to you, “Jinx is kinda cute.” She giggled, checking the blue-haired girl lean her body into the table, creepily focused on shooting the ball.

You didn’t know why, but that comment of hers made you instantly shoot back, “She’s far from who you think she is.”

You dozed off on Jinx’s face as an old memory emerged from the dead.

Flashback:

Last year on Christmas Eve.

Jinx sits alongside you at the dinner table, busy goofing around with her siblings. You only resorted to cutting up the food on your plate, your back growing numb from how straight you sat on the chair. Your mother’s presence shooting daggers at your back, silently telling you to act proper. Peering up at Caitlyn, you envied how courageous she was, breaking some rules mother had put out.

She was definitely into Violet, you thought, as she continued intensely staring at Vi’s lips instead of her eyes. Letting out a sigh of boredom, you glanced at the girl beside you, her fingers acting out the scene she was explaining. Though, Mylo caught you staring, a mischievous grin forming on his lips.

“Yo, you ever got with someone?” He asks out of nowhere, forcing you out of your little bubble. Your heart leaped in your chest, everyone on the table turning quiet as they awaited your answer. Fidgeting with the satin fabric of your gown, you felt a blush creep up your face, “Uhm— I haven’t yet.”

Jinx chuckled, leaning back in her seat, her gaze on you, “I can’t imagine you in a relationship.”

You frowned, silently hurt by that statement, “What’s that supposed to mean?” Your tone came out harsher then intended, causing Caitlyn’s brows to shoot up in surprise. Jinx stayed relaxed, shrugging her shoulders, “I don’t see you in a relationship with anyone.”

Her eyes bore into yours, but you rapidly looked away when tears started to form in the corner of your eyes. You stared down at the pattern of your gown, hoping someone would just cut in and pretended this never happened. Clenching your fists, you held back the tears, narrowing your eyes at the food laying untouched on your plate.

Afterwards, Jinx finally continued her human-hunting storytelling with her siblings, as if she hadn’t just insulted you. Feeling a tear about to drop, you swiftly wiped it away, throat clogging up. As if on cue, your eyes blurred from the water gathering, leading to Caitlyn and Vi noticing.

“Hey, you good?” Vi lowly questioned, earning an elbow in the gut from Cait. Trying your best to smile, you nodded,

“Perfect.”

That night, you silently cried into your pillow, wishing you’d never gone to the dinner.

Flashback end.

Blinking away those rough memories, you darted your gaze at Jinx’s body fully arched forward on the pool table as she aimed. To be fair, your cousin was right about her being cute in a way.

“I’m sure she’d like me.” Your cousin twirled a hair, fawning over the blue-haired girl. Rolling your eyes, you got up and made your way towards Jinx.

Regretfully, once your hand touched her forearm and she glanced at you, stunned, your mother barged in, “Dinner is ready!”

Your corset was stabbing your front.

Unconsciously sitting down in front of Jinx and in between Claggor and Ekko, you felt trapped. Your mother had organized three dinner tables, you ended up on the ‘kids’ table again. Once the food was served, you sensed your stomach growling, the pomegranate juice you drank 2 hours ago not helping. As you lifted your hand to pick up the knife, your father’s fork gently tapping on a glass from another table caught everyone’s attention.

“Excuse me, everyone!” He cleared his throat, raising his glass up as everyone quieted down. He then smiled, “I’d like to thank you all for attending our Christmas Eve dinner again—“ He then started explaining how special it meant to him.

You started dozing off into another world, until you heard his next words, “I’m also glad to announce that i’ll be accepting marriage proposals for my youngest daughter!” He glanced at you, not noticing your eyes silently telling him to shut up.

Feeling everyone’s intensive stare, you instantly shot up from your seat, ignoring your mothers voice as you stormed out the dining room. Fury filled within as you ran up the stairs, holding up your dress and heels clacking against the carpet.

Heavily breathing, you slammed your bedroom door shut, grabbing the first thing you saw—a vase filled with velvet roses and shattering it against the carpeted floor. Letting out a frustrated scream, you huffed and laid on your bed, frowning up at the ceiling filled with carved designs.

Few minutes passed and startlingly, a knock is heard from the other side of your door. Scoffing, you sat up, “Go away!” You cry out, crossing your arms at their absurd interruption of your thoughts.

Another knock is heard, prompting you to groan, flicking your hair back before stomping towards the door, it goes flying open.

Your scowl is replaced by a bewildering gaze at the sight of Jinx waiting outside your door.

“what on earth are you doing h—?”

She cuts you off,

“—what on earth are you doing here?” Jinx imitates your British accent, shoving your shoulder with hers as she walks into your room, “Caitlyn and Vi forced me to come fetch you.” She continues to observe the room, stopping at your vanity. Closing the door, you stopped beside her, puzzled by her behavior.

“You don’t have to—“

She turns around, leaning her face into yours in a flash, only a couple of centimeters away, “I didn’t mean to make you cry,” Her rose-hued eyes entrancing you, “..You should’ve told me.”

Incapable of finding your words, you resorted to stepping back, holding your hands up, “I got over it. I’m fine now.” Jinx shook her head, her arms behind her back as she continuing stepping closer.

She tilted her head to the side, a lazy smile forming, her pointy fangs coming into view, “Don’t lie to me, toots.” Her tone clearly holding a hint of manipulation or…threatening you. You raised a brow, but the memories of what happened just now came rushing back.

“It doesn’t matter—you were right,” You huffed out, palms clenching and avoiding Jinx’s piercing stare, “My father is going to force me into a marriage with a man who can offer enough money and—“ You felt tears starting to spill and sobs starting to escape. You felt defeated, knowing that you were only a pawn in your fathers games.

Jinx froze up but then guided you to the end of the bed, sitting you down with her, removing your palms from shielding your tear-stained face, “Don’t cry, toots. You’re ruining your pretty makeup.” She wiped away the mascara stains, her soft touch led to you calming down. Sniffling, you glanced at the shattered glass on the floor.

Returning your attention to Jinx, you felt depressed, “Why does Cait get to marry the woman she adores?” You didn’t want to seem jealous. You were truly happy for your older sister, but knowing she gets to marry the love of her life made you think it was unfair. Jinx only shrugs, rolling her eyes, “I don’t know what she finds attractive in my sister.”

Her comment prompts you to let out a laugh, “At least she’s kind.” Jinx scrunched up her nose, “And i’m not?” She leaned into your face, large innocent-looking eyes peering at you.

Glancing away from her, you pressed your lips together, “From experience, you’re not particularly nice.” Jinx chuckles, nudging my shoulder, “But toots, I only ever said that because I didn’t want you in a relationship.”

Snapping your head towards her, you scoff, “Are you serious?—“

She nods, laying on your bed with her elbows holding her up.

“And plus, it’s not like your father won’t accept a woman if she ever…” Jinx trailed off, eyes darting up to yours, as if caught like a deer in headlights. Knitting your brows together, you twist your upper body to lean over her, noticing her shoulders tense up, “Jinx, don’t tell me you’ve got a crush—“

The door slams open behind you, the presence of Caitlyn and Vi gracing you both. Whirling around, you scowl at their interruption, “Did you forget how to knock?” Vi acknowledged you for a split second before finding Jinx, still manspreading her legs on the edge of your bed.

“Jinx—Silco is still waiting for his wine!” Vi tugged her up, confusingly staring at the room, “How’d you end up here instead?” She whispered, not letting Jinx respond, rushing her out. Caitlyn immediately closed the door, wrapping her arms around you, “I’m so sorry about father.” She mumbled into your hair, soothing the strands, “I spoke to mother— she’ll fix everything.” You knew your father wouldn’t listen, but you answered with nothing more than a nod.

Caitlyn successfully convinced you to head back downstairs, sneaking in some roasted potatoes and other side dishes into the living room. She sat with you, whispering about how ridiculous their cousins looked with tacky jewelry. Soon, the dinner was over and some guests had already taken their leave, As a result, the remaining guests were primarily close family, Vi’s included.

Because of a less crowd, mother opened up the ballroom, forcing younger people to start dancing along the music the musicians created. Dodging your mother, you watched your sister teach Vi the foot work, giggling when Vi failed miserably.

“Jinx— Behave.” A rough tone cut from behind, compelling you to spin around. There stood Silco, telling Jinx off. She didn’t seem bothered, opting on playing with her braid. The girl looked bored.

Glancing at your father— seated close to the dance floor and speaking to partners, an idea popped in your head. Grinning, you pushed through your cousins, reaching the duo.

“Sorry, could I borrow Jinx for a minute?” You gently asked Silco, already taking Jinx’s hand in yours. Overlooking Jinx’s speechless expression, you pulled her alongside you till the dance floor. You swiftly get into position, hand on her shoulder—the other intertwined with her hand. Jinx grins teasingly, “Desperate for a dance, toots?” Compared to her sister, Jinx knew how to waltz, her steps perfectly matching yours. After twirling you around, you were met with her face again, chest colliding with hers, “I don’t want my father introducing me to potential candidates.” You whispered in her ear, wanting your father to notice the intimate exchange.

Jinx only flashes a cunning smile, hand resting on your waist, “Geez— I can already imagine those old men lining up.” She jokes, leading to you grumbling under your breath, fingers tightening on the material of her dress shirt. Noticing the anxious atmosphere, Jinx pulls you into her, moving you both away from the dance floor, face nuzzling to the side of your face, “How about a little distraction?” She hummed out.

Puzzled by her suggestion, you shrugged and spotted your father watching, prodding you to dart your gaze back on Jinx. Resting your palm on her collarbone, you tilted your head, “Careful, I bite.” You didn’t intend to come across as flirtatious, but Jinx was already wickedly grinning.

To your surprise, she pushes you against the wall, her head dipping to meet your lips in a lustful kiss. Eyes fluttering shut, your hands instinctively rise to tangle in her hair , yanking her closer. Her chilled palms trail up your back, leaving goosebumps. Feeling a presence approach you both, you snatched Jinx’s hand without glancing at the person and slid out the ballroom.

Jinx giggled, still being led by you to the upper floor. Once you closed your bedroom door shut, you grasped the back of Jinx’s head, slamming your lips against hers. She let out a barely audible moan, stepping back till her leg touched the edge of your bed. Sending you a look, you nodded and pushed her down, attacking her neck. Jinx tried to silence her noises, gripping your hair as you sucked on her skin.

Your love bites contrasted against the pale skin, little bruises forming on each side of her neck. Pulling away, you bend down to untie her boots, taking them off. Jinx had a star struck visage, gulping when you began unzipping her pants. Not letting her help you, you unbuttoned her dress shirt, sliding it off of her. Jinx was left in her undergarments, her chest completely exposed to you.

You didn’t waste any time in moving her to the center of the bed, straddling her lap as you took off your corset and slowly pulled up your gown, revealing the royal blue lingerie. Jinx sucked in a breath at the sight of your body, cold palms instantly palming your breasts. Letting her massage your chest, you leaned down to lick her nipple. Eliciting a wince out of her, Jinx’s hands move to your forearms, legs naturally curving upwards, knees nudging your side. Continuing your assault on her nipples, she whined beneath you, chest rising.

“..toots, I didn’t expect this!” She cried out, whimpering right after, nails scratching your back. Smiling against her sore nipple, you palmed her breast, kissing up her chest until you reach her lips. Engulfing her in a deep kiss, her tongue slid past your lips, prompting you to moan into her. Your hand trails downward—to her upper thigh, squeezing her plush muscle. Biting her lip, Jinx observed as you position yourself below her hips. Grabbing her legs, she squirmed when you spread them apart, exposing her further.

To her dismay, you kissed the inside of her thighs, not giving her the satisfaction of getting what she wants. A couple of minutes passed, fueling her impatience till she nudged your face with the same leg you currently attended to, “Ugh— c’mon..”

Displeased with her recklessness, you wrapped your arms under her thighs, forcing them open, “This is what you asked for.” You warned before ripping her panties apart and lowering your head, tongue darting out to deliver a slow, long lick up her pussy. Gasping, Jinx bucked her hips, running her fingers through your hair, demanding more. You then sucked, your lips hugging her sweet cunt, spotting the blue-haired girl roll her eyes back from the ecstasy.

Your tongue licked in a circular motion, nose nudging her clit as you forcefully kept your lips attached. Her back arched, a hand gripping the expensive sheets whilst crying out pleas for a release. Chuckling against her pussy, you watched in amusement as her thighs wrapped around your head, struggling to contain her pleasured murmurs, head tilting back to display her bruise covered neck.

“I can’t— I can’t—!“ She cries out, lower body twitching with the way you edged her clit with kisses. Letting out a groan, she huffed in exasperation when you withdrew from her, “..ugh—you’re so annoying.” She whined out, legs dangling on the bed and curiously watching when you stood up, sliding off the lingerie to unveil yourself. Her lips curled into a grin, shamelessly staring when you opened a drawer, pulling out a strap.

As you crawled back on the bed, Jinx chuckled, “We’re you plannin’ on using that on me?” She eyed the strap and peeked up at you hovering over. You smiled, placing a gentle kiss on her cheek,

Noticing her eyes dart back at the strap, you licked her earlobe, “….don’t tell me you’re nervous.” She avoided your gaze, looking to the side.

She rolled her eyes, scoffing, “As if.” She mumbled, sucking in a breath when you spread her legs. You hummed, positioning yourself so that the strap aligned with her center.

“Be as loud as you want— the walls are sound proof.” You bent down, palms resting on the pillow Jinx’s head laid on. Seeing the way she stared up at you, her eyes revealing a hint of submission, you fold instantly. Her hands come up to rest on your shoulders, a sly grin spreading across her face, “I’m all yours, toots.”

Her words prompt you to sit up, palm on her lower stomach as you aligned the strap and slowly slid it in. Jinx gasps, hand gripping your wrist. Watching as the length of the strap entered Jinx, you lowered yourself, letting her wrap her legs around your hips. Leaning into her head, you whispered, “This is for embarrassing me last year.”

In a split second, you pulled the strap halfway out before slamming back into her, causing her to cry out, “Fuck—! I told you—” She’s cut off by her own whimper.

Continuing your rough actions of pulling out and ramming into her, Jinx didn’t realize how loud she was, her blissful gasps echoing around the room.

Little did she know, you lied straight to her face. The room was nowhere near soundproof.

Enjoying the sound of her pleasured groans, you forced her leg up to rest on your shoulder, spreading her further and letting you reach a sensitive spot. Squeezing her soft thighs, your lips pepper her pale, plush skin with wet kisses.

Flinching at the new sensation, Jinx grasps the sheets beneath her as you plunged into her restlessly, “Shit— I’m gonna—“ Her back arches as you sped up, an extremely loud moan escaping her.

You chuckled as she pled for you to not stop and edge her, muttering curses as she nearly reached her limit. Finally, with a whine and her eyes squeezing shut, the string snapped.

Observing her chest rise and fall rhythmically, you rubbed the soft skin of her lower stomach, gently pulling out. She lets out heaved breaths, the back of her hand coming up to press against her eyes, “That was…” She trailed off, still out of breath.

“I’ll go get you towel.” You climbed out the bed, heading to your bathroom and quickly crawling back with a wet towel. As Jinx sat up against the headboard, you untied the bed drapes, hiding yourselves with the thick dark curtains. The blue-haired girl opened up her legs, inspecting the way you sat right in front of her, head bent down to clean her up. Pressing the wet towel against her, she twitched, but didn’t say a word. Humming a calming tune, you resumed to clean her, wincing along with her when you accidentally wiped too hard.

“Hey, toots.” She whispered above you, prompting you to look up, raising a brow.

She smugly smiled, leaning in, “…wanna get married?”

extra

The moment she asked, you reluctantly answered, “I would..but my father decides everything.” Jinx pursed her lips, but nodded, letting you continue paying attention to wiping her clean. After that, you checked the time and gasped at the numbers indicating the sunrise. It didn’t change much, you were all used to sleeping in the day and waking up at night.

Realizing how exhausted Jinx was, you let her stay in your room—her whole family in guests rooms across the halls. You also noticed how often she woke up, as if snapping out of a nightmare. Pulling her closer, you let her snuggle into you, her head resting on your chest.

Though, when you woke up, it’s as if the whole bed was turned upside down. Some covers slid off the bed, pillows scattered everywhere. Jinx however, changed positions and slept on her stomach, arms wrapped under a pillow and one leg curved upwards.

She looked so beautiful, you thought, shamelessly glancing at her chest and toned arms. Her face had, for once, a relaxed expression. But you knew better, and opted to gently waking her up for a shower. Your mother would definitely come up to wake you up in a bit for a grand breakfast with all the guests that slept over.

Fighting Jinx to wake up was hard, she’d turn away from you, grumbling under her breath about needing a couple of minutes. You tried everything, until you had nothing left but to attack her with kisses. Turning her onto her back, you crawled to hover over her, nuzzling your head in the crook of her neck. Once your lips sucked on a spot, she sat up, pushing you off, “I’m up..!”

Guiding her to the bathroom was worse, her legs were sore, forcing you to hold her up and help her into the warm bath. Bathing together was definitely another level of comfortability.

Let’s just say, that when you both entered the living room, with Jinx limping all over the place, everyone had figured out the story behind the pleasured noises coming out of your room.

creds to whoever made the banners. thank you for reading! :) reblogs r heavily appreciated

#arcane #jinx x fem!reader #jinx x y/n #jinx x reader #jinx league of legends #jinx arcane #jinx #jinx fanart #arcane characters #arcane caitlyn #caitlyn kiramman #vi arcane #vi x caitlyn #vampire x reader #wlw #caitlyn arcane #cassandra kiramman #fanfic

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serpentandlily · 1 year ago

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Lost in a Labyrinth - Azriel x Reader

Lost in a Labyrinth I - Azriel x Reader

Summary: Lonely and heartbroken after his near kiss with Elain, Azriel finds himself at the door to the most exclusive pleasure house in Hewn City, The Labyrinth, taking Rhysand’s cruel advice. What he expected to find was a pretty girl to warm a bed with him for a single night. But instead he finds something he never thought existed—his mate. A mate that is tangled up in something far more sinister than he could ever imagine.

Warnings: smut (minors dni), reader is a prostitute

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Part I

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

“So you will leave Elain alone. If you need to fuck someone, go to a pleasure house and pay for it, but stay away from her.”

Rhysand’s words had played over and over again in his head since the Winter Solstice, three months ago. Azriel wasn't sure why he was taking him up on his shitty advice now but by some will of his own, he was standing in the shadows of the alley across the street from The Labyrinth—Hewn City’s most exclusive brothel.

Azriel only knew of this place because some of the high ranking nobles he spied on talked about it often. It was known for its secrecy, for making sure their clientele had confidentiality. There were far more pleasure houses that were known to the public, even one in Velaris, but the last thing Azriel wanted was word getting around that he had been seen visiting one. Partly because he liked keeping his love affairs secret, but mostly because he didn’t want to give that satisfaction to Rhysand.

When his shadows came back with no reports of any sightings of faeries nearby, Azriel crossed the distance to The Labyrinth. He knocked five times on the plain looking, unassuming door, following the instructions he had overheard.

A sliding peephole opened revealing a pair of dark eyes. “A bargain, Shadowsinger,” a male voice said through the door. “A copper for your eyes.”

“A silver for your tongue,” Azriel agreed. He felt a burning sensation behind his ear, the bargain tattoo forming.

This was another thing he had learned from spying— the secret bargain that would grant you access to The Labyrinth. A bargain that he wouldn’t speak of the people and things he might see here so long as they kept their silence in regards to his identity.

The door swung open a second later and the male guard ushered him in. The guard gave him a once over, his eyes stopping on the dagger sheathed on his thigh.

“No weapons allowed, Shadowsinger,” the guard ordered. “Especially around the girls.”

Azriel wordlessly unsheathed Truth-teller and let his shadows take it away. He didn’t tell the guard that it was pointless, that he could summon it back at any time regardless of whatever wards they had set up around here—his shadows didn’t abide by the typical rules of magic. But the guard didn’t need to know that.

The guard held out a gloved hand. “The entrance fee.”

Azriel reached into his pocket and pulled out a small pouch filled with coins. He set it in the guard’s palm without question.

The guard gave him a dip of the head, satisfied, before gesturing for him to continue on. Azriel strided down the dim hallway. He could already smell various aphrodisiacs and drugs amongst the intoxicating scent of arousal in the air. It spurred him on, kept his feet moving on the dark red carpet, not allowing him the chance to second guess his decision to come here.

He wasn’t sure what magic was at play, or if they specifically scented the hallway to further get their clients in the mood, but something was tugging him forward.

He finally made it to the other end of the hallway, where a black door was awaiting him. He opened it slowly, cautiously and when no threat appeared, stepped through the threshold. The door opened up into a large foyer of sorts with a large candle chandelier hanging from the ceiling.

Straight ahead was a grand staircase that led to the second floor. On both sides of the foyer were large double doors with masked guards standing in front of them, swords strapped to their backs.

Waiting for him in the center of the room was an older, High Fae female with generous curves, dressed decadently. A polite smile graced her pretty but aging face as she took him in.

“Shadowsinger,” she greeted with a dip of the head, her hands clasped in front of her. “Welcome to The Labyrinth. My name is Lydia. I will be your point of contact during your time here. Please follow me, I will show you to the girls so you may make your selection.”

This wasn’t the first time Azriel had visited a pleasure house. Gods, when they were younger, him, Rhysand and Cassian had gone to some together. Had even taken the same girl once. But this felt…different. The atmosphere was soft, sensual—not rowdy like the other brothels he had been to.

He followed Lydia into the first set of double doors, which led down another long corridor with more doors lining the wall, all numbered. Until they reached the end where another set of double doors waited. As soon as Lydia pushed them open and gestured for him to continue, soft music crept through the air.

Azriel walked into a heavily perfumed room, dimly lit much like everywhere else in this place. Dark red, velvet settees and cushions lined the walls and floors. Silks hanging from the ceilings gave each space a bit of privacy. A bar was on the opposite wall, fully stocked with various alcohols. Males and females, alike, were milling about the room in various states of undress, some paired up on the couches and chairs.

At the front of the room was a wall made entirely of glass that overlooked a courtyard. Hanging plants and flowered vines decorated the space. A large fountain bubbled in the middle of it. Girls in lingerie and silk robes sat on the stone benches and cushions on the floor, lingered near the fountain, danced to the soft music in corners of the courtyard—all giggling and chattering with each other.

“These are the girls in The Labyrinth,” Lydia explained. “If you would like to see our selection of males, let me know.”

His eyes wandered over the girls, all so beautiful and unique. Every single type of fae was here—from nymphs to firelings to High Fae. But his gaze was drawn towards a lone figure in one of the second story alcoves.

His breath was sucked from his lungs the minute his eyes fell on her. She was…she was so beautiful. The most beautiful female he had ever seen in his five hundred years of living. She was dressed in a light pink lingerie set, a sheer robe hanging over it with white fur trims. She was alone, resting an elbow on the stone railing with her chin plopped in her hand as she gazed out into the carved mountainside within Hewn City.

He couldn’t rip his eyes away from her.

“Are any of them suited to your tastes, Shadowsinger?” Lydia questioned from beside him, knocking him out of whatever spell he had been put under.

“Her,” he answered, his voice a mere whisper, as he dipped his head towards the female he couldn’t help but stare at.

Lydia murmured something to one of the masked servants walking around with trays of champagne flutes. A moment later, one returned and handed the female a slip of paper. She clicked her tongue at whatever she read.

“Apologies, Shadowsinger,” she said, “But it looks like she’s already been chosen for tonight. Do any—”

“By who?” Azriel growled before he even realized, his shadows whirling around him. Lydia looked up at him with a stern look that accentuated all the fine lines on her face.

“You know I can’t tell you that,” she chided. Azriel gave her a sheepish look, not knowing what had come over him. “It looks like any of the other girls are still up for the taking if you’d like to choose another?”

But Azriel couldn’t stop staring at the girl in the pink. Couldn’t help but be mesmerized by her. None of the other girls caught his attention. He had come here looking for a quick, no strings attached, fuck but that desire, that need—it was like it had been sucked right out of him.

“I…” he trailed off, suddenly reeling back into his body. Lydia was staring up at him expectedly but he took a step away. “N-no. I’m sorry. I should…I should go.”

Not a second later, his shadows swirled around him, whisking him away.

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

Azriel wasn’t sure what drew him back to The Labyrinth the next night. Or the night after. Each time he came, he asked for that girl in pink, and each time, he was told she had already been booked for the night. It would’ve been easy to accompany Mor to Rita’s and find a plethora of females that would fuck him for free. But none of them would’ve been her.

He wasn’t even sure why he was becoming so obsessed with a girl he’d never even talked to. Obsessed enough to travel to Hewn City, pay the copious entrance fee, just to leave when he was told she was still not available.

But here he was.

Again.

Standing at the doors to The Labyrinth.

It had become such a reoccurrence that Lydia would merely shake her head no at the sight of him, already knowing what he was there for. He was sure tonight would go more or less the same. But he was surprised when he caught sight of Lydia standing in the large, intricate foyer and she shook her head yes.

“Well, Shadowsinger,” she said, “I admire your persistence. It seems it is your lucky day. The girl you’ve been waiting for is available. Please, continue on up the stairs and into The Labyrinth. She will be waiting for you behind the ninth door.”

Azriel gave her a dip of the head before striding past her to the staircase. His shadows were swarming him—excited about something. He tuned them out, pushing open the black doors waiting for him at the top of the stairs.

He paused for a second, feeling like he had suddenly been transported somewhere else. Instead of one long hallway like he’d been expecting, the doors opened to a maze of large pillars, multiple pathways lit by candles placed on the floor.

He sent his shadows forward to scout the place and locate the ninth door that Lydia had mentioned. He followed their trail which led him to a red door with a number nine painted on it in a darker shade of red that looked suspiciously like blood.

He let out the breath he had been holding as he wrapped his scarred fingers around the doorknob and slowly pushed it open.

Slow, sultry music met his ears and the scent of pomegranates and cardamom flooded his senses. It was intoxicating, beckoning him forward. He softly shut the door behind him before he completely paused in his tracks as he turned to face the room.

There, standing with her back to him, was the girl who had been utterly consuming his mind since he had first laid eyes on her. She was wearing a light pink nightgown that laced down her lower back. She was bent forward slightly, lighting a candle on a coffee table set up in front of a pair of red velvet couches.

His eyes trailed over the room for a second, trying to gather his bearings. It was a large room, large enough to have a sitting area separate from the four-poster bed covered in silk and textured fabrics. Everything fit the same color scheme as the other rooms he’d been in, red and black. Lit only by candles, the soft lighting only added to the sultry atmosphere.

Some smoke lingered in the air, making everything a bit more hazy. He recognized the scent as a popular aphrodisiac often used during parties with high nobility. His shadows seemed lulled by the music, drifting around him lazily as he stood in place.

He stood frozen as she finally turned around and met his gaze. He had thought her beautiful that day he had seen her up on the balcony, but this close, well… beautiful was not strong enough of a word. She looked crafted for the Gods, a being not meant to walk alongside man. His breath was sucked right out of his lungs again, his eyes widened as his shadows reacted by lowering themselves onto the ground, leaving him bare.

“There you are,” she purred, her voice as smooth as silk and honey. “I’ve heard you’ve been waiting for me.”

Azriel swallowed harshly, his throat bobbing with the motion. He watched her eyes track it, watched how her smirk slipped into a soft smile instead. He opened his mouth to speak, to say anything, but it was like no thoughts existed in his head except for an image of her.

“A bit shy, are you?” She teased after he failed to speak, walking towards him and holding out a hand with well manicured nails. “That’s okay, my love, let me take care of you.”

She grasped his hand in her much smaller one, not even flinching when her skin met contact with his brutal scars. He let her guide him to the couch and push him to sit, entranced by her very presence. She moved to the bar cart behind him, running a delicate hand over his shoulders as she did, before pouring two glasses of whiskey.

She meandered back over to him, plopping on the couch next to him before handing him one of the glasses. She clinked her glass against his. “For the nerves, my love.”

Azriel wanted to tell her that he wasn’t nervous, but that would be a lie. He had no idea why he had been reduced to the shy teenage boy he had been in his youth but he couldn’t shake himself from the feeling. Her presence was overwhelming, intimidating. Like she somehow held his entire being in the palm of her hands.

“Thank you,” he grunted out, his voice rough. He cleared his throat before downing his glass of whiskey in one go. She followed his lead, her smoky eyes never leaving his as she swallowed her whiskey. Beneath the exaggerated desire he found in them was a more calculating look, like she was trying to figure him out.

A bit of the whiskey slipped out of the side of her mouth, dripping down her chin and neck to the crevice between her breasts. Azriel’s gaze followed it, his cock tightening in his pants as he wished to lick it off her gleaming skin.

“Oops,” she giggled, swiping it up with a finger and sucking it into her mouth. “Would you like another glass?”

He shook his head. He didn’t want to be drunk for this. He wanted to savor every second of his time with her, the girl who had been plaguing his thoughts night and day.

“You seem tense, Shadowsinger,” she purred with a pout, making his eyes dip to her full, red painted lips. “I can fix that.”

She reached forward and ran a slender hand up his chest and he nearly moaned at the feeling of her touching him. His hand latched onto hers, stopping it in its tracks.

“What’s your name?” Azriel asked, finally speaking. He needed to know. Needed to taste the way it felt to say it on his tongue as much as he needed to taste her.

“Serenity,” she replied with a coy smile. “But you can call me anything you like, my love.”

His eyes searched hers. “That’s not your real name, is it?”

“Of course not, darling,” she giggled. She leaned towards him, close enough that her breath fluttered over his ear. His cock twitched in his pants, his skin heated. “I think the real question is, what would you like me to call you, Shadowsinger?”

“Azriel,” he breathed out. “Just…just Azriel.”

“Azriel,” she repeated in that voice of silk and honey.

His eyes darted down to her lips again. He couldn’t help it, couldn’t help how turned on he felt. Was it the aphrodisiacs in the room? Or perhaps the whiskey had hit just right? He didn’t care. All he knew was he needed to have her.

Azriel let go of her hand, letting her continue her travel up his chest until she grabbed the empty glass in his hand and set it down on the table in front of them. She made eye contact with him again, slowly moving to straddle him on the couch, wrapping her arms around his neck lightly. He bit back a groan as her weight fell on his hardening member.

“What is it you’re here for, Azriel?”

His brain couldn’t focus with her in his lap. Her eyes were so mesmerizing, her scent one he could get high off. His hands found her waist, the silk fabric of her nightgown so smooth against his rough skin.

“You,” he whispered, honestly. Because that was the truth. He had seen her and knew he needed to have her.

“I’m yours, Azriel,” she giggled. “Any way you want me.”

If he were a better male, perhaps now would be the time he realized this might be a mistake. But he wasn’t a better male. He couldn’t be. Not when her body was pressed against his, not when she looked so beautiful staring up at him with her large, expressive eyes, and certainly not when his body was singing for her—hungering for her like she was the only sustenance he needed.

So Azriel surged forward and kissed her.

Lightning exploded, skittering over his skin, the moment his lips touched hers. He groaned at the feeling of their softness. She let out a small sigh as she kissed him back, melting in his lap, pressing herself closer to him.

Azriel slid a hand up her exposed back until he grasped her by the back of the neck and tilted her head so he could deepen the kiss, finally taking control of the situation. His cock hardened painfully as she spread her legs further, allowing her heat to rub against him.

He kissed her like a starved male, licking along her bottom lip, compelling her to part her lips for him. She let him consume her, let him slip his tongue into her mouth and taste her fully.

So sweet.

So divine.

Azriel broke the kiss, letting her gasp for air. The scent of her arousal had his eyes rolling back in his head. Still holding her by the back of the neck, he twisted her head to the side and pressed his lips just below her ear before trailing down her jaw and to her delicate neck.

She moaned, squirming in his lap and rubbing against his hard length, only spurring him on more. His other hand started working on unlacing her nightgown. His fingers fumbled over the ribbon, until finally, it came undone and fell, pooling at her waist.

Azriel pulled back to look at her, now bare before him from the waist up. Her chest was rising and falling rapidly with her breathing, her eyes dilated and full of lust, her lips swollen. The perfect image of desire.

“So beautiful,” he growled, before leaning forward and latching his mouth around her right nipple. She gasped, arching into his mouth as her hands fisted his hair.

“Azriel,” she whimpered, pushing her hips down against his bulge. He growled again, thrusting his hips up to meet hers.

His lips made a path back up to hers, taking her breasts in his palms as he kissed her deeply. She grinded down on his cock again, pulling a whine from the back of his throat that had her smiling against his lips.

He wanted to take his time with her, wanting to draw this out as long as he could. But he knew he wouldn’t last. Not when the need to be in her was causing him to strain against his pants to the point of pain.

Azriel stood, lifting her up with him with an arm under her ass and the other wrapped around her. He let his shadows swarm them, stepping out right in front of the bed. She was breathless as he dropped her onto the soft pillows and sheets, her hair fanning around her head like a halo.

An Angel.

That’s what she was.

A godsdamn Angel.

He couldn’t keep his hands off of her, running them down her body as he pulled her nightgown all the way off, leaving her entirely bare before her. She moved to sit up, reaching for the buttons of his shirt but he lightly grasped her throat in his hand and pushed her back down.

“How do you want me, Azriel?” She hummed, seductively, wrapping her hands around his wrist.

Azriel leaned down, running his nose along the column of her throat until his mouth was beside her ear.

“First, I want you coming on my fingers,” he commanded, his voice husky with desire. “Then my tongue. And then my cock. Do you understand?”

She swallowed audibly, nodding her head.

“Words, angel,” he smirked. “Use your words.”

“Yes, Azriel, I understand,” she whimpered, the scent of her arousal peaking.

He inhaled deeply before pulling away and dropping to his knees before her. She sat up on her elbows, letting out a small cry as he hooked his arms around her thighs and yanked her towards the end of the bed.

Her sex was glistening with her want and Azriel groaned at the sight, unlacing his pants with one hand to relieve some pressure. He watched her as he dipped forward and ran his tongue up her slit, his eyes rolling back at the sweet taste of her.

She tossed her head back with a moan, spreading her legs wider for him. Azriel didn’t waste any time. He sucked and licked at her clit with a hunger he’d never felt before, his cock twitching every time he drew out a moan or cry from her lips.

True to his word, his finger swirled around her entrance, causing her hips to thrust closer and closer. He continued his ministrations as he slid a single finger inside of her, cursing as he felt how tight she was wrapped around him.

“Azriel,” she cried out as he added a second finger before slowly thrusting in and out of her. “Fuck.”

He continued to suck that spot that had her crying out, pure waves of euphoria crashing through her body. His fingers began to thrust inside of her faster and faster as her moans became more frequent.

“That’s it, angel,” he praised as she rutted against his fingers. “Fuck yourself with my fingers.”

She whimpered, her movements frenzied as he latched his mouth back on her clit, sucking in rhythm with his fingers. One of her hands gripped his hair while the other fisted the sheets and she squirmed in pleasure until he pushed her over the edge.

“Az…Azriel,” she cried, arching her back as flames licked their way through her body. “I’m gonna—”

Azriel didn’t stop, palming himself with his free hand as she orgasmed, pulsating around his fingers with a loud moan. He slipped his fingers out and replaced them with his tongue just in time to feel the aftershock ripple through her.

She tried to pull his head away, but he didn’t relent. He needed her on his tongue, needed to fulfill the hunger inside of him. It wasn’t long before he had her screaming through her second orgasm, lapping at the wetness pooling between her thighs. Azriel didn’t let up as he rode out her orgasm with his tongue, not until her body was writhing in pleasure and she was begging him to stop.

He stood, sticking one of the fingers covered in her juices into his mouth, eyes rolling back in his head as he groaned. “Gods, you taste so good.”

He left her panting on the bed as he made quick work of ripping his clothes off. His eyes were black with lust, his shadows spilling all around him in his craze. Gods, he needed her so bad. Every piece of her.

He climbed onto the bed, hovering over her and crashing his lips against hers. His tongue was still claiming her mouth as her hands roamed the muscles of his chest, sliding down to his cock. He groaned into her mouth as she ran her hand up and down his shaft.

“Please,” she begged.

“Please what, angel?” He nipped at her bottom lip. “What is it you want?”

“Please fuck me, Azriel,” she whined.

The noise that came out of his throat at her words was one he’d never made before. He sat back on his haunches, replacing her hand with his as he guided himself towards her entrance, rubbing up and down against the wetness that was waiting for him.

Her eyes rolled to the back of her head as he slid himself inside of her slowly. She moaned as Azriel let out an animalistic growl at the feeling of her wrapped around him. It wasn’t until he was all the way in her when they both finally released a breath.

“Fuck,” he grunted, falling forward and peppering kisses along her throat. “You feel so good.”

She whimpered at his praise and felt him smirk against her neck before he started to finally move, pulling himself all the way out her before thrusting back in, faster this time. She cried out as he slammed into her.

Azriel set a punishing pace, thrusting into her again and again. His shadows seeped from him until nearly every crevice of the room was taken over by his darkness.

Her nails raked down his back, between his wings as she let him take her. He claimed her mouth again, passionately swallowing each moan he pulled from her. Her hips began to meet his with each thrust, pushing him deeper and deeper inside of her.

“Gods, Azriel,” she cried, squeezing around him as he hit that sweet spot inside her.

“Are you going to come on my cock, angel?” he cooed.

“Yes,” she mewled. “Yes, gods, yes.”

“Good girl,” he growled, nipping at her throat with his canines.

His words pushed her over the edge into the hot bliss of pleasure. She screamed his name as the lightning shot through her, her core pulsating with each strike.

“Fuck,” Azriel groaned. He rode out her orgasm and then his thrusts became harder, faster but sloppy with no rhythm as his own release slid up on him.

His tongue swirled around the base of her neck before an utterly feral growl ripped through him. And then he bit down on that spot. His canines ripped through the skin, sinking down into her flesh as he came, thrusting once, twice and one final time—burying himself in her.

They both panted in silence for a moment, coming down from their highs before Azriel slowly slipped out of her with a small whimper. He pulled away from her and she smiled up at him, her eyes glazed with pleasure and satisfaction.

And then something happened. Something he never thought would. Something he had only dreamed about but never wished for because he had thought it a waste of breath.

A golden string of light unwound itself and shot across the darkness, all the way to the beautiful girl before him.

The mating bond snapped.

His mating bond.

Azriel let out a choked noise, rising fully. He stumbled back in shock, his eyes wide as he stared down at her. Her brows furrowed in confusion and she sat up.

Fuck, his mate…

She was his mate.

His godsdamn mate.

This couldn’t be happening. Not like this. Not after he had just paid her to have sex with him. Not after he had come here for a shameless fuck. She’d never want him now. Why would she?

He hastily began picking up his discarded clothes and dressing himself. She did the same in her confusion, slipping her nightgown back on as she frowned at him.

“What happened?” Her voice was meek as she hugged an arm around herself, looking at him. “Have I…have I done something wrong?”

“N-no,” he stuttered, not looking her in the eyes. Gods, she would hate him if he told her now. She would not want anything to do with him. “No, I’m sorry. I-I need to go.”

“But you paid for the whole night,” she said, perplexed with a hint of insecurity. “Please, if I wasn’t good…if you didn’t enjoy it…I can do better, I swear it.”

He finally looked at her, at his mate. His heart sank in his chest at her words. Fuck, he was making this worse. He couldn’t stand the sight of her looking at him like she’d done something wrong. She was perfect. She had been perfect. It was him who fucked up.

“No, no, don’t. It’s not you," Azriel tried to reassure her. “I…it’s me. I need to go. I’m so sorry.”

“At least let me get you your money back,” she said, rubbing her arm. He felt sick to his stomach.

“No! No, please keep it,” he murmured, buttoning up his shirt as fast as he could. “I’m…I’m so sorry. This was a mistake.”

And then he disappeared in his shadows, her confused and hurt face the last thing he saw.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

a/n: so obvious this was entirely from Az's perspective but it will be reader y/n just in case it wasn't super obvious! Hope you guys enjoyed it! If you asked to be tagged but don't see your username, it wouldn't let me tag you for some reason :((

(also, now that the whole chapters out, if this isn't what you thought you were signing up for, no hard feelings if you asked to be removed from the taglist)

taglist: @itsswritten @impossibelle @lilah-asteria @heartless-tate @sheblogs @jesskidding3 @landofpetrichor @thecollegecowgirl @5onedirection5 @cherry-cin @fayeatheart @brieflyclassymortal @saltedcoffeescotch @glitterypirateduck @eyebagsanonymous @chxosangxl @daardyrnitta

#acotar #acotar fanfiction #azriel #acotar x reader #acotar x you #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel shadowsinger #azriel fanfic #azriel acotar #azriel angst #azriel smut #azriel spymaster

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ennn · 9 months ago

Text

Hold the fuck up, this isn’t a real trial.

In retrospect a number of things about the episode, especially the coven's characterisation felt off... and now on rewatch I'm pretty certain this isn't a trial of the Road at all – it's the Salem Seven punishing Agatha.

Clues under the cut with some spoilers from future scenes in trailers / promo clips.

Clue #1 – No screen aspect ratio change

As @wolfcracker points out, for the two previous trials the screen ratio changed once they entered the place (going full screen). We didn't get that for this cabin.

Clue #2 – No phase of the moon decoration at the entrance

We've had these obviously built into the previous trial entrances but there's no sign of one for this cabin.

The coven's so panicked getting chased by the locusts they don't notice it running in. The door is made of wooden planks with tiny gaps in between and you don't see a sign of any moon on the other side either.

Notably, in a trailer and promo shot, you see the moon featured prominently again for an upcoming trial, when Agatha and Billy cross a stone bridge structure and approach an entrance (presumably of the tower).

Clue #3 – Each trial has an element, this cabin doesn't

This was something that seemed odd even before this episode, we saw five weird horror movie-trope settings – assumed to be trials – in posters and promotional materials but there are only four identified elements for the Road.

Sure you could have more moon phases (like we do irl) but the Ballad that is central the show only mentions four elements: fire, water, earth, and air.

Our first two trials had strong ties with an element: if you failed you'd be killed by that element or something associated with it i.e. drowning or burning.

Now from the promos, an upcoming trial with the anti-gravity effect going on in a tower fits well with the air element. And the threat of death here is associated with going into the air (spikes in the ceiling).

Notice from the flying forms that this trial does go full-frame like the first two we certainly had (clue #1).

Another upcoming trial we know of (that looks like a morgue or asylum-like place) can be linked with the earth given that we see rocks and earth falling in a shot. Death by crushing earth.

This cabin had no element associated with it at all. The threat of death was by... Agatha siphoning your magic? Or in the case of Agatha, to be tortured forever by her mom?

Clue #4 – The trial area doesn't necessarily keep out the Salem Seven

From the promo shots of presumably the air trial (see above), we clearly see the Salem Seven in the tower attacking them. Why then did Locust and the rest of the Seven leave them alone in the cabin when they were right behind them?

Other sus elements

OK, these are more ambiguous and could be the result of bad writing but here's the other stuff in this "trial" that just seems off

The coven turns really really quickly on Agatha and viciously. And they literally just rode broomsticks where it's mentioned it's "about selflessness" and "we fly together or not at all". I mean yeah the people might lie but they were enough of a team that the magic for the broomsticks worked.

The trial's instruction was to just "punish Agatha"? That's oddly specific and pointed. Previous trials had the entire coven in danger (e.g. everyone had to drink the poison). Between this and the above point it feels like someone is mad at Agatha for killing lots of witches over the years. Some people like the Salem Seven.

The trials so far have tested the witch's ability in the craft (potion-making, protection) and how they work together. How does punishing or sacrificing Agatha align with the Road's test of "Burn and brew with coven true / And glory shall be thine" -- which we were just reminded of last week.

Jen calling and dismissing Billy as a familiar is... more mean-ness that I'd expect. You could make a case for her disliking Agatha, but the amount of venom in this moment towards the boy for trying is surprising considering she was trying to watch out for him not too long ago. Of course, it could be her frustration and fear in that moment boiling over.

Pretty much everything at the end after Billy snapping and going all dark and vengeful.

Ultimately we don't know what the Salem Seven can do. Sure they shriek like Nazgûl but turning into animals isn't the most threatening thing? So, bad writing and copium or is this show being truly tricksy and reality-bending?

#agatha all along #agatha all along spoilers #agatha harkness #tv: agatha all along #AAA meta

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homunculus-argument · 1 year ago

Text

The thing about perfect pitch is that it's a combination of having an inherent knack for it, and having that skill honed with a musical education. Someone who could recognise a specific note by the ear but was never taught notes cannot do it, and someone who simply wasn't born with the potential for it can't learn it no matter how thorough of a musical education they have.

I think the same thing applies to what I've come to refer to as "a few raisins is five raisins" type of instruction-giving. The ability to instinctively assess how much information and detail somebody wants or needs when they're asking for instructions. People who cannot do this are enraged by the idea that someone thinks they can, btw. How dare somebody arbitrarily decide to withdraw information and take away someone's agency concerning choices that they don't want to make and whose outcome doesn't matter much.

I'd consider that I have a pretty good knack for it, myself. It's been honed by working both with people who refuse to give exact instructions, my own difficulties in asking for sufficiently exact instructions when I've needed them, and working with people with varying preferences towards instruction-exactness.

People who refuse to give clarifications to their instructions and guidelines in things that they are familiar with leave you no other choice than to demonstrate just how wrong their vague answers can be interprated before they're willing to clarify. If you ask someone "how long does this usually roughly take?" and they just go "I cannot answer that, it varies so much from person to person, every single individual case is different" on and on, refusing to give the roughest of rough estimates, all you can do is say "okay so it can take anything between 20 minutes and 20 years." And only then will they say "oh no, it's more like 3-6 years on average", which was the exact answer you wanted in the first place.

It's not really a comprehension thing, but a moral code to them. I don't believe in having ethical principles that serve no other role than inconvenience absolutely everyone including myself, so I have no qualms about giving simplified instructions. If someone who needs exact instructions is trying to follow a recipe that tells them to add "a few raisins" freezes at the vagueness and asks "how much is 'a few' raisins?" they want an exact number.

Someone who isn't comfortable trusting their own assessment of how much is 'a few' won't be helped by being told to follow their heart and make their own choices. They specifically want somebody to just give some sort of a guideline about this. And being the type that's more comfortable just eyeballing things, I can assess that in this context "a few" means roughly half of a small handful of raisins, and quickly estimate that one half of a small handful is roughly 4-6 individual raisins.

And instead of getting needlessly difficult about refusing to say it, I can just say "oh, that's about five raisins", and everyone can carry on with their day.

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solbaby7 · 8 days ago

Note

an azriel x reader where the reader is rhys’ sister (non canon obvi) and she meets azriel at the war camps when she goes to visit rhys 👀

Filthy Bastards

pairing: azriel x implied Rhysand’s sister!reader

warnings: swearing, unsanitary conditions, possible sexual themes but i’m aiming more for suggestive than outright smut, it’s def giving wanna bang ur brothers best friend vibes

A/N: always, always, always thank you for requesting. i absolutely love typing these up in my free time 💗

—

You could feel him staring again; the golden eyed warrior in training who seemed to be an expert at blending into the shadows—even with those giant wings towering behind him.

Two whole days you’d been at the Illyrian campsite, your own wings skillfully glamoured and yet you couldn’t shake the feeling of someone watching your every move. A look that was different than the others; lacking the usual disdain for your light in a place that bred so much darkness. You were used to that feeling—people hating you before they even knew you because you lacked the right parts to earn you instant respect.

The males spat their poison but never once did they dare take a step further—fearful of the power subdued behind such beauty. A pretty smile, inky black hair, eyes glittering like precious amethyst; a beautiful vessel to conceal the dark power that rumbled beneath.

You allow the watchful gaze a while longer; that is until you notice the other women around you nervously glancing at the lingering soldier. Their hands shake as they work, fingers pricked by wavering needles as they attempted to follow the instructions you’d given earlier on the stitching of fighting leather specifically—a slight more difficult technique than sewing simple tunics and breeches. “Do you speak or do you only know how to stare?”

He doesn’t startle from your voice even if the women around you go silent, eyes wide and heads bowing down as they prepared for the brutality that they were used to when talking out of turn. “I speak.”

“Good,” You croon as if speaking to a skittish child, eyes focused on the leathers before you. Fingers twist at thick strings, expertly knotting to ensure full insulation with neat lines. “Is there something you need?”

“I’ve never seen you here before.”

“I’m just visiting.”

His wings stiffen, drawing tighter towards his body and you can’t tell if it’s from your answer or the frigid bite of the brutal winds cutting through. Frigid air ruffles obsidian strands, curly ends brushing against his forehead; softening the strong cut of his brow. “Females don’t visit here.” His voice rough, low and smooth in that filthy way that has you shifting in your seat.

A passive sound pulls from your throat, a mix between a hum and a chuckle paired with that lazy shrug of your shoulders. “The cold isn’t for everyone but I can endure for a few more days.” Distantly you’re aware of the other women muttering amongst each other, sparing intrigued looks at the Illyrian male bold enough to linger around these parts of the campsites. “You have a name, nosy?”

He contemplates telling you, suspicious by nature and the feeling grows with each passing second. You’re too relaxed, legs crossed and spine curving into your chair. Silky strands of hair fall from behind a pierced ear like charcoal dusting over a canvas; it teases at curled lashes and tickles at the bare skin of your collarbone. “Azriel.”

“Azriel,” The syllables of his name tastes familiar on your tongue; leaves a comforting aftertaste that you can’t help but savor. “You’d better get going,” You urge, syllables sung like a song. “Males don’t linger here.”

A sugary sweet cadence affirms that your words aren’t meant to be a permanent deterrent and a curious kind of excitement grows at the many places Azriel wishes to bump into you again.

Perhaps, somewhere with less eyes and ears.

He finds it too. Pure determination wills it so—you and him alone. All those years of training pays off, his steps skillfully silent as he tracks your whereabouts, following you around town. Watches you linger about the few shops that still remain, purchasing potatoes and vegetables, a bottle of wine and fresh bread from the baker who fondly sneaks you a half-dozen buttery knots sprinkled in cinnamon sugar. The scent of it lingers as you navigate through town, right up until he catches you breaking away from the familiar path in favor of one much less treaded.

Instinct warns him to stay back, to keep a fair distance, but want overrides Azriel’s usual efficiency. Too caught up in the seductive sway of your hips with each sure step. His mouth waters at the shape of your thighs, every curve and dip seemingly sculpted straight from one of his fantasies.

It’s like you’re built to break him. To ruin all of the structure the Steppes beat into his bones and branded into his marrow. Countless hours of discipline built on blood, sweat and tears wavering at the sight of one female.

“As fun as you following me is,” The chime of your voice breaks through the silence. “I’d much rather you just walk beside me.”

A beat of time passes, you don’t even turn to face him, still humming under your breath as if soothing some skittish animal. He hates how much it works. How it lures him from his hiding place and exposes him to the elements—to you. “You knew I was there.”

“Yes,” You finally look his way, a knowing smile living in the corners of your mouth. “Felt the very moment you set your eyes on me.”

Azriel doesn’t move a muscle, nearly replicating that fae-like stillness in the way he freezes. His gaze is heavier than any move he could make anyway and it’s currently fixated on you, scanning, evaluating—obviously trying to figure you out. "Why didn't you say anything?"

Your head tilts to the side, an adorable motion that softens the predatory glint that lives beneath your iris. Sugary remnants of sweet treats are left on your cheeks, adding to the innocent picture you paint with your little smile and annoyingly charming obliviousness.

He's not sure how he hadn't realized it sooner. This wolf in sheep's clothing.

Undeniably dangerous and still utterly captivating.

"You're the one following me, remember? Was giving you a moment to get your bearings, gather your words. But, all this way and still nothing? Makes me think that you must be the shy type."

Azriel nearly rolls his eyes, fingers twitching in barely there frustration. You must be awfully brave or horribly stupid. Letting an unfamiliar male follow you into the woods. “I could've hurt you or worse—"

“You wouldn’t hurt me.”

He can’t help but notice the warning that hides in the cadence you carry. So calm yet so confident. Wandering like prey just begging to be caught, before somehow overpowering the predator into slowly stepping back with its tail tucked between its legs.

“Well, no. I wouldn’t but—“

“But, what? If you don’t want to hurt me, then why are you following me?”

Azriel shifts his weight from foot to foot, movements silent and swift. “I saw what you were doing earlier—teaching those females how to stitch up fighting leathers. Never seen seams so neat.” It’s a half-truth, he really hadn’t ever seen such proficient work but it’s certainly not what drew him in. Helps his story that he actually returned back to that same place, silently studying the room for you but all that was left behind was your teachings.

If you don’t buy his story, you don’t make it known. “The Blood Rite is coming up soon too and you could use the edge during those extra cold nights.” Implication lives in your tone and Az uses the in, settling into the story woven—even has the sense to look a little sheepish. “Why didn’t you just say so?” Readjusting the items in your grasp, you seem to relax further in his presence; exposing your back to him while urging him to follow. “Come, I have a place further up the path and I can show you some materials. Maybe we could take some measurements too, if you’re up for it.”

He should say no.

Any other day, Azriel would’ve already said no.

But his body moves for him, taking most of your things and still having a free hand to wave you forward, muttering some gruff comment about you leading the way.

You fill the silence, chattering away about little things to make him feel more comfortable. It works, even if he is acutely aware that you talk about things from ‘home’ without directly specifying where that is. You vaguely mention the idea of a sibling, a brother based on the way you skim over how he’d throw a fit if he saw you alone with another male.

Breadcrumbs. Just enough information to keep him occupied and yet not nearly enough to satisfy.

“Just a bit further, you’ll see it on the right just past those trees.”

He follows the direction where your hand lazily waves, suddenly aware of how far from the camps you reside. The snow blankets all of the sound, cocooning you both in this little bubble that feels all too much like a shield.

A barrier that breaks this piece of land off from the rest and Azriel begins to feel like he’d never be able to find this place again without you directing the way. “You have a home here and I’ve never seen you before?”

“I don’t visit often.” You vaguely reply, fingers brushing through snow-capped tree branches. “Won’t stay long either.”

“Why’s that?”

You shrug, this noncommittal movement that holds a privileged amount of nonchalance. “Never could stay in once place.”

“Too bored to stay put?”

A wicked grin appears on your face, life sparkling in your eyes like stars against the night sky. “Too hungry for knowledge to linger in one corner of the continent for extended period of time.” It’s like you can feel another question brewing along his vocal cords because you change the subject with the grace of a queen calming a quarreling court. “We’re here.” You don’t even use a key to unlock the door, knob turning with a twist and the smell of you completely surrounds him when he steps inside. “You can set those things over on the counter—I’ll put them away later.”

He follows orders like a soldier, sets every item down with care while those eyes scour every inch of new terrain.

For a home you don’t visit often, you certainly keep it well stocked. A couch with blankets draped over the back, pillows of all sorts of shapes and textures. Rugs that the soles of boots sink into like a cloud. Side desks and shelves filled to the brim with jars and trinkets.

A little nook sits in the far right corner of the living space, fully equipped with a desk and chair, sewing materials scattered about with leather bound books held open with paperweights. Sketches are tacked to a cork board—ripped scraps of paper with your neat scrawl etched on it.

He can’t help the way he gravitates to it, authentically impressed with your attention to detail. Attracted to the neat lines and organization; notes are bracketed alongside realistic drawings, elaborating fabrics and stitching styles you pictured it with. “I figured at first that maybe this was hobby for you but now it’s clear that you have a talent.”

Maybe you’re not used to the praise because the blush that burns on your cheeks is alarmingly involuntary. “Thank you, it’s the only thing I seem to have gotten from my mother.” You admit, throat clearing as you busy your hands with cleaning fresh fruit and unwrapping a block of cheese.

A simple board of snacks only takes a few moments, long enough for the fireplace to maintain a thick flame that chuffs warm air throughout the space.

“Figured I’d feed you first before I ask you to take your clothes off.”

It disarms him, briefly morphing his features from a practiced stoicism to almost boyish. His weight shifts from foot to foot, heartrate spiking a touch faster at your teasing giggles. “You’re trouble.”

“And you’re broody—suppose it works for you though.” You’re so casual in your flirtations, measuring tape hanging like a scarf around your neck as you pull him closer to where you want him. The lights much better here, casts a golden glow over his stature; accentuates the hard lines of his shoulders and the neat taper of his waist. “All the tall, dark and handsome types are.”

Azriel raises a brow at that, distantly intrigued to know exactly how much research you have on the topic but decides against mentioning it.

Jealousy is a fickle thing.

“You sweet talk all your customers like this?” Your boot knocks against his ankle to widen his stance, though your touch is much gentler when urging his arms to raise at his sides.

“My charm is usually enough,” You quip, confidence oozing from you in a way that implied there wasn’t a single place in the world you weren’t made to conquer. “But, something told me you’d make me work for it.” You’ve already begun your measuring, stretching the tape across his shoulders, along the length of his arms, wrapping it around his biceps, forearms and wrists. You’re quick; efficient—jotting down numbers and notes every few seconds.

It all feels relatively normal until you stand before him, taking in the width of his sternum with that focused expression on your face. Brows all bunched and lips pursed in a concentrated pout. Two fingers twitch at his sides, the only indication of his silent yearning that builds and builds the longer you remain within touching distance. “Take you long to get something like this finished?”

“Not likely, I could do this in my sleep.” Tape tracks the length of his legs, ink marking down his width on parchment. “The longest part will be cutting the material, making sure everything aligns. Putting it together is the easy part for me.”

It seems that a lot of things are easy for you.

Because where many have tried and failed in the efforts of capturing the shadowsingers attention—you excel. Battering down walls that had been heavily guarded and richly fortified with nothing more than a pretty smile and fluttered lashes.

He can help himself when you fall to your knees before him, tape wrapping around his waist, fingers ghosting at his navel. The muscles in his stomach contract without his say so, reacting to his want—his desires. Makes it physically impossible not to graze his knuckles along the curve of your cheek, fingertips touching at the soft strands of your hair. “Pretty and smart,” Azriel mutters, voice barely discernible over the crackle of the fire. “You really are trouble.”

Mischief dances in your irises, hides in the shadows of your pupils; lures him in with low lids and slow blinks. “Careful,” You warn. “Keep touching me like that and I’ll get the impression that you want to see how fun trouble can be.”

Only a beat of time passes but it’s enough time for impulse to outweigh self-control. “If it looks as good as you, I do.”

You croon, fingers hooking into his belt loops to tug him closer. Close enough that the rough material of fighting leathers grazes your chest, pebbles your nipples—sweetens the air with the heady scent of feminine arousal. “You really don’t know what you’re asking for.”

“Show me.”

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skye-obsolete · 9 months ago

Text

Kitchen

ʟᴀᴅs ʙᴏʏs x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

ᯓ❅ ┆ synopsis┆ : How does the LADS boys handle themselves in the kitchen?

ᯓ❅ ┆ tags┆ : prompt, soft, fluff & possible OOC

──────────────── ˗ˏˋ ❅｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽ ˎˊ˗ ────────────────

𝐗𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐫

Xavier in the kitchen was almost a disaster waiting to happen—no exaggeration. He had a knack for forgetting to turn off the stove or neglecting to set a timer, leaving his meals charred and inedible more often than not. While eliminating Wanderers with effortless precision was second nature to him, cooking seemed to be his weakness. Typically, Xavier gravitated toward quick, easy meals—cup noodles, ready-to-eat options—and never fussed over what he ate.

Despite his mishaps, he genuinely put in the effort to learn, committing to recipes and working to improve. With time, practice, and a few burned pans later, he eventually became efficient in the kitchen. Once he mastered the basics, he started preparing large meals, focusing on quantity so you’d never be short of options, making sure you had plenty of your favorites to choose from.

. . ────────────── ❅ ⁺.

𝐙𝐚𝐲𝐧𝐞

Zayne embodied the perfect image of husband material. Though his job as a Linkon doctor kept him busy with back-to-back surgeries and long hours at the hospital, he never failed to make time for you—especially if you were craving his cooking. Despite his demanding schedule, he made it a priority to prepare meals whenever he came home, often late into the night, just to see your face lit up with each bite.

Zayne was meticulous in the kitchen, his precise nature extending from surgery to the ingredients he handled. Aside from his disdain for carrots, he had an impressive knowledge of different vegetables and how to bring out their natural flavors in every dish. Whether he was baking or cooking, he always followed the recipes to a tee, ensuring every detail was perfect, particularly when trying something new. His care and precision in the kitchen mirrored the way he treated you—attentive, thoughtful, and deeply considerate.

. . ────────────── ❅ ⁺.

𝐑𝐚𝐟𝐚𝐲𝐞𝐥

Rafayel may come off as bratty and spoiled, but beneath that exterior, he harbored surprising culinary talent. It wasn’t something he flaunted, considering that most of his meals were either prepared by Thomas, brought or ordered online. But when the mood struck him, Rafayel could whip up a dish with flair, though he often relied on instructions and recipes to guide him. His creativity shined through, however, as he loved experimenting and adding his personal touch to any recipe.

You were always his first taste-tester, the one he’d eagerly present his latest creation to—sometimes a surprisingly delicious innovation, other times an odd combination that left you questioning his choices.

. . ────────────── ❅ ⁺.

𝐒𝐲𝐥𝐮𝐬

Sylus, much like Zayne, could easily be considered husband material, though he typically didn’t need to lift a finger in the kitchen thanks to his personal chef. Yet, when the occasion called for it, Sylus was more than capable of preparing a meal. Confident and knowledgeable, he rarely consulted recipes, instead relying on his sharp memory and expertise.

While patience wasn’t his strong suit, he made an exception when you were involved. If you were there to taste his dish, Sylus would put his full effort into crafting a meal that catered to your palate, making sure each seasoning and flavor hit the right notes. For someone who thrived on power and control, cooking was one of the few activities where he allowed himself to slow down, focusing intently on every detail. After all, he wanted it to be perfect for you.

──────────────── ˗ˏˋ ❅｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽ ˎˊ˗ ────────────────

╰｡ Author's Note: There's significant parts that are definitely inspired by Infold's Special Chapter; "Ways Of Making Chocolate" chibi report on this prompt.

I'll be working on some requests (specifically a continuation of Grief) by next week since preliminaries are approaching soon, I'll be off from writing for a few days.

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oddyseye · 6 months ago

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Dissecting every reason people call Eurylochus a hypocrite because I am sick and tired of defending this poor hungry man.

Eurylochus is not the easy villain or the perfect saint. He is the walking contradiction of the Odyssey and EPIC, and anyone who just calls him a hypocrite without understanding the nuances of his motivations really isn’t paying attention to the full picture. Let’s start with the infamous wind bag fiasco, which happens early enough for Eurylochus to show us his conflict. Yes, he doubts Odysseus’ judgment when it comes to the Wind God’s island, warning him about the risks. And let’s be real, Eurylochus is absolutely right. If you look at the situation, Odysseus is acting impulsively, relying on his wits and bravado, thinking he can control the outcome with the power of his charm. But this? It’s a god’s realm. The gods don’t work on your timetable. At this point, what does Odysseus’ confidence even mean? Eurylochus sees it as reckless, and I agree. Yes, Eurylochus is a bit wary of everything at this point (which might be annoying if you’re Odysseus), but it’s a valid concern. And Odysseus’ reply? It's a bit patronizing. He doesn’t respect Eurylochus’ caution. Instead of listening to his crew member, his second-in-command, Odysseus tells him to stand down and demands blind loyalty. Of course, this sets the stage for Eurylochus’ next crucial transformation. He’s now seen Odysseus as someone who doesn’t care about the real risks or the crew. People LOVE to bring up that line where Eurylochus says he opened the wind bag. Okay, okay, he messed up. But here’s the thing: he knows he messed up, and he admits it. In front of everyone. He’s not hiding it. He’s not making excuses. He’s owning up to it. And people still want to call him a hypocrite? He wasn’t the one who set the trap for the entire crew by opening that wind bag. Odysseus gave some instructions, but he knew the crew was starving and desperate. And then, on top of that, you have the winions stirring the pot, telling everyone there’s treasure in the bag? What did he think would happen? The crew wasn’t exactly in the best headspace to be taking orders from a guy who was clearly not as present as he should have been. You can’t put all the blame on Eurylochus when Odysseus didn’t exactly set them up for success. Everyone was already in a fragile place after the war, and Odysseus should have known better than to leave room for temptation. He was the leader; he should’ve anticipated how bad the temptation would be. Eurylochus gets a little too much flak for something that wasn’t entirely his fault. There’s enough blame to go around for everyone, not just one guy. All of the crew wanted to open the bag, Eurylochus was just the one who did. He represents the voice of the crew. His biggest focus becomes apparent in the Circe Saga, specifically during Puppeteer, when Eurylochus is forced into a brutal choice on Circe’s island. After the men are turned into pigs, Eurylochus has to come to terms with his decision. He’s a pragmatist. He doesn’t trust the island, doesn’t want to gamble their lives on a witch’s promises. So, when Odysseus sends him and the crew to investigate, Eurylochus doesn’t just go along for the ride, he stays behind and urges Odysseus to get out of there. But let’s remember, this moment is a turning point for Eurylochus. He’s scared, yes, but also rational. He was the one who saw the situation from a distance and thought, “This is too risky.” He’s the realist who wants to cut his losses, but it’s important to notice that his fear is the fear of losing more men, not necessarily cowardice. Unlike Odysseus, who acts out of hope, Eurylochus is practical. His attitude here reflects the trauma they’ve been through and how tired he is of losing people. That’s why his frustration boils over later when Odysseus sacrifices men — because Eurylochus has seen enough death.

Now, let’s talk about Scylla. Because this is the moment where everything Eurylochus has learned comes crashing down on him. Remember that vow Odysseus made to him earlier: “There’s no length I wouldn’t go if it was you I had to save”? Well, that sentiment sticks with Eurylochus. He takes that to heart. So when Odysseus makes the decision to sacrifice six men to Scylla, you can see why he snaps. It’s not just that Odysseus is willing to sacrifice them — it’s that he does it without warning, without giving them the choice. Eurylochus feels like Odysseus has abandoned everything he taught him about loyalty. That vow he made? Yeah, it means nothing now. Eurylochus is furious because Odysseus fails him here. He’s been teaching Eurylochus the value of every single life, yet when the time comes to uphold that belief, Odysseus throws it out the window to save himself and his pride. So, of course Eurylochus is mad. And it’s not about the six men dying (because, let’s be real, he’s no saint), it’s about the betrayal. He’s been made to believe in the cause, but now he sees Odysseus as a hypocrite. It stings, and it’s totally justified. This leads us to Mutiny. Eurylochus is right to be mad at Odysseus for sacrificing six men just to save his own skin. Don’t even try to justify that. Odysseus put his own desire to get home ahead of the lives of his crew. Eurylochus did not agree to be cannon fodder for Odysseus’ personal agenda. He wasn’t going to sit back and watch his brothers die without questioning what the heck was going on. So, when Odysseus goes full “sacrifice six for the greater good,” you bet Eurylochus was angry. He wasn’t just upset because they were going to die; he was upset because Odysseus made the decision to send them to their deaths without even consulting them. Eurylochus’ reaction is human, it’s justifiable, and it’s completely rational. He’s not a traitor, he’s someone who realizes that Odysseus’ quest for glory comes at the expense of the people he supposedly cares about. Then we get to the cattle of Helios because apparently everyone’s learnt nothing. Eurylochus has already checked out emotionally. He’s looked at the situation, and for him, the reality of their fate is clear: they’re not going to make it home. They’re already dead in a way, and the gods are just playing with them. So when faced with the opportunity to eat the cows, he sees it as a way to take some control over a situation where they’ve lost all control. His logic isn’t about doing what’s morally right in the eyes of the gods. At least if they’re going to die, they can do it on their own terms — full stomachs, no slow starvation or suffering. It’s a very bleak and cynical perspective, but it’s also realistic. And in a way, it shows a form of wisdom that Odysseus doesn’t have in this moment. Odysseus, of course, refuses to let go of hope. His entire journey is a testament to his stubbornness and unwillingness to give up. That’s his defining trait, and it’s what keeps him going, but it also blinds him to the obvious signs of doom around him. He refuses to accept that the gods are no longer in his favor, that they’ve been punished for their mistakes, and that he’s already sealed their fate. For Odysseus, admitting that they’ve lost would be admitting defeat, and that’s something he can’t stomach. So, instead of facing the reality of the situation, he doubles down on his hope and pride. Eurylochus isn’t the naive one here. He’s not playing the hero’s game. He’s real. He’s already accepted that their journey is doomed, but he refuses to be passive in that fate. He wants to take charge of how they go out. He’s not waiting for divine intervention anymore because, honestly, it hasn’t worked out so well for them so far. He’s out of options and out of faith.

But here’s the darker, more tragic implication: Eurylochus’ perspective is the voice of the crew. His attitude — “We’re never gonna make it home; we’re already doomed” — isn’t just his own individual despair; it’s shared by everyone else around him. The crew is no longer fighting for survival; they’ve been through too much. They’ve seen too many of their comrades die for a cause that seems meaningless at this point (how do you think Perimedes would feel when Elpenor died). They’ve been stranded for so long, constantly at the mercy of the gods, with no real agency over their fates. They’ve lost hope. The entire crew is in a suicidal state of mind, and Eurylochus’ willingness to eat the cows is just the worst tangible sign of that collective despair. He’s the one who finally gives voice to it, like always, but it’s a sentiment that’s been building throughout their journey. He’s come to terms with it in a way that Odysseus has not. In that sense, his desire to eat the cows is almost a form of passive suicide — an attempt to bring some meaning, some control to an already doomed situation. His actions signal a profound loss of the will to live. This attitude is contagious. When Eurylochus speaks, he’s speaking for a crew that’s also checked out, a crew that’s surrendered to the inevitable. They don’t believe in their survival anymore. They’re not thinking about glory or heroism. They’re thinking about getting something out of their final moments, about finding some form of solace in the face of certain death. They no longer care about the gods or their promises. They just want to eat, even if it means defying the divine laws. This is a crew that’s collectively suicidal, mentally exhausted, and emotionally broken. And Eurylochus, in choosing to act, becomes both the catalyst for their final downfall and the embodiment of their emotional exhaustion and surrender.

He doesn’t trust Odysseus anymore. Odysseus promised to bring them home, but where are they? They’re stranded, they’ve lost men, brothers, friends, and the gods keep throwing obstacles in their path. When Odysseus becomes a king in his eyes and no longer a brother, it’s clear: Eurylochus starts thinking about himself, and that definitely doesn’t make him a hypocrite. It makes him human. It makes him someone who’s had enough. So, when the storm hits, and Eurylochus says, “We’re going to die anyway,” it’s not just a defeatist attitude — it’s the voice of someone who’s been burned by his faith in Odysseus too many times. He finally does what Odysseus would have done if he weren’t so obsessed with getting home — he does what’s necessary for survival. It’s harsh, but it’s consistent with his struggle all along. Eurylochus isn’t a hypocrite because he speaks out against Odysseus — he’s just a man who wants to believe in loyalty, but realizes that Odysseus has never really been loyal to anyone but his wife, never his men. It’s a brutal realization, and it’s only when he lashes out in Mutiny that we see the full extent of his disillusionment.

So, before anyone calls Eurylochus a hypocrite, let’s remember that he was the one who had to deal with the consequences of Odysseus’ stubbornness and false promises. He wanted to be the loyal friend, the one who stuck by his leader. But Odysseus made it impossible. Now, he’s just a man broken by the very loyalty he once held dear.

#epic the musical #the odyssey #odysseus #eurylochus #eurylocus epic #odysseus epic

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angelfrombeneth · 1 year ago

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HAVENT I MADE IT OBVIOUS? - T . NOTT

Theodore Nott x Fem!Reader

Summary: *REQUESTED* Reader and Theodore are best friends. Reader gets wrapped up in her first love scandal and Theodore cant handle it. He cant cope that its not him.

Warnings: Angst, Slight Fluff, The most heart warming love confession ever. Mentions of sex but hardly.

A/N: The request wasn't super specific so I decided to go with something like this.No smut, because I have a really similar request which specifically asks for smut so that one will have smut.

"Teddy don't be a twat" You smacked his head as you sat beside him.

"What! Its not my fault the instructions were unclear" He scoffed.

You and Theo both were sat in potions as you both were paired up for a task. Theo thought he was being funny reading the ingredients not in the correct order and ultimately fucking up the mixture.

"This is why I hate pairing up with you in class" You groaned.

"Hey Y/N!" You looked up to see Cedric leaning against the front of your workbench.

"Oh, Hey Cedric" You smiled.

"I was wondering" He smiled at you, his eyes flickering to the side for a moment for placing a hand ontop if yours. "Would you wanna go out sometime? Maybe for a meal or something?" He grinned.

You smiled as you sat up in your seat. "I'd love that"

"Ill meet you at 6, outside your commonroom on Friday?"

You nodded as he smiled, caressing your hand before walking back to his seat.

You heard a scoff beside you, your neck cracked to look at Theo, who had a huge scowl on his face. "Your going on a date with him? He's such a prick"

"Oh fuck off Theo" You rolled your eyes as you stood up gathering your books before exiting the class.

Theo caught up with you, walking beside you. "No seriously, he's such a priss. Why's you wanna date.. that" You scoffed at his statement before scaling the stairs down to the Slytherin Commonroom.

"Theo shut up-" You turn to see Pansy. "Oh my god! Pans!" You squealed as you ran at her.

You felt Theo's moody presence slip away with Draco and Mattheo who walked over to him as soon as you ran to Pansy.

"Cedric asked me on a date!" You squealed.

"No way- Oh my god, this will be so good" Pansy smiled, grabbing your hand. "You can test the waters before the date at the party tonight!"

"Party?" And with that Pansy yanked you to your feet and you scrambled up the stairs being dragged behind her as the next 4 hours entailed getting ready for the party.

Slytherin parties were always off the chain. Every other house could party for sure, but the amount of shit Slytherin would gather for the party. All the alcohol and drugs like it was some free tester aisle of a muggle store. It would always end very heated whether everyone was hooking up or someone started a fight. It was always the same old shit.

You decided on a basic little black dress, you can never go wrong. The dress was short and frilled. To be fair it looked more like one of those frilly tops that remind you of a dress. Your assets were out on display, but it was a party why not.

"Girl, that dress is definitely not your size but it's so cute!" She chuckled as you spun around. You fixed the top, making sure there will be no nipple slips. "You have literally the perfect body; tits, ass and thighs. I'm so jealous"

"Pans shut up, you are so hot I won't even leave for the party we can have our own" You both giggled as you leaned forward kissing her cheek before grabbing her eyeliner and finishing up your makeup.

By now the party was in full swing for atleast an hour and you two were only just getting done. You held hands as you exited Pansy's dorm and skipped downstairs giggling. Not to mention the two if you had pregamed before.

You two did you rounds round the party greeting everyone and stealing shots from groups. You both got to your friends on the couch in the back corner as you stood like bambi, struggling to stand straight in your heels from how fucked you were.

"Woah- Careful" You heard as you felt a hand snake around your waist steadying you. You look up to the side and catch Theo's dark eyes staring down at you.

"Thanks" You giggled leaning into his chest, pulling his arms over your shoulder, holding his hands as you looked to the group. Pansy situated herself on Enzo's lap the two of them giggling at you and Theo.

"So Y/N, any updates with Mr Badger? I was told about your date" Mattheo smirked, he wasnt trying to wind Theo up, he didnt know but Theo still got pissed.

You felt Theo tense behind you but you didn't take notice of it as you continued to okay with the rings on his hands. "We haven't been on the date yet, but he seems nice"

You heard Theo scoff as you turned to look up at him. "Nice my ass" He mumbled. You rolled your eyes, not wanting to argue as you continued conversation with your friends.

Theo was enjoying the company, enjoying the feeling of your body snuggled against him as you played with his rings. God, he was falling, quick. He was too busy daydreaming to even notice you had sauntered away to the other side of the room.

"Ced~" You smiled as you stood beside him.

"Hey Y/N- You look gorgeous tonight" He chuckled, taking your hand and pulling you to stand between his legs. His hands gripping your thighs, dangerously close to your ass.

"So do you" You smiled, running your hand softly up and down his chest. "M' excited for our date" You giggled.

"Me too.. Its not everyday you get to be in the presence of a goddess" He licked his lips.

"Stop it you!" You chuckled, hitting his shoulder.

"Cant help myself" His hands threatening to touch the curve of your ass.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, chuckling down at him as he pulled you closer by your thighs, placing his lips onto yours as he kissed you softly.

It was needy, very needy. He gripped your ass as you leaned over kissing him more passionately as you say on his knee.

Third POV

Theo couldn't cope at the sight. The second Pansy pointed it out, his hand tightened around his bottle. Anger filling his body as he watched another man kiss you. Another man touch you. That should be him. Not Cedric. Him. Jealously bubbled inside of him, very quickly.

Theo was too focused on the scene that the glass bottle shattered at the pressure. All his friends turned to look at the sound and him. He looked down at his bloody hand as he wiped it on his shirt, before groaning and turning to push through the crowd.

Everyone was confused by the sudden action by Theo, they had no clue what caused it, or even a smidge of knowledge how much Theo loved you.

Theo rushed away, pushing through people trying to get further and further away from the hurt. His hand covered in blood and throbbing as he stopped at the stairs. Turning to look in your direction, noticing your still with him. He bit his lip, holding in any emotion as he continued up the stairs.

Your POV

A many days later, after the party, you and Cedric went on your date. It was lovely, he was very attentive which you loved. You didn't see him much the few days after but chalked it up to him being busy.

It wasn't till it was 4 days after your date with Cedric you noticed the boy was still yet to talk to you. It left a sour taste in your mouth and you wanted to confront him. Why was he ignoring you.

Suddenly someone bumped into you, quickly apologising as they sprinted down the hall. Curious you followed them, it was a first year probably not a huge deal

You had no expectation for the kid, but it wasn't what he was running to caught your eye. It was down a dark corridor you turned to see Cedric and Theodore.. talking? Before you could even call at them, Theo pounces on Cedric. Your eyes wide as you froze. You were too far down the hall to do anything but noticed Mattheo, Draco, Enzo and Blaise all struggling to pull Theo off Cedric. Cedrics friends yelling as Cedric was frankly getting battered.

You sprinted down the hall towards them, aa they got ripped apart as you approached. Cedric and Theo's face all bloody.

"What the fuck is wrong with you??" You screamed as you looked at Theo.

He looked shocked, taken back. "Me?? He started it!"

"Sock it Theo, there was no need" You helped Cedric to his feet. "Let me take you to the hospital wing" And with that the two of you left.

Third POV:

"Shut up Nott, you're so up her ass. Don't be mad she hasn't put out for you yet. It's a long list. She's just a hole to fill. You'll have your turn " Cedric laughed.

Theo doesn't know how he got in this situation, he was just walking then saw Cedric and now he was ontop of the boy pummelling his face in. He was talking shit about you, lying about you. He was horrible.

But the worse thing for Theo was when he saw you. Saw your face when you looked between the two of them. His heart broke when you reached for Cedric, cheking if he was OK and whisking him away.

Theo was going insane.

Your POV:

It had been a day since the fight. Both boys were in the hospital wing but you refused to see Theo why would he do that. He was your bestfriend, and Cedric was just.. a guy. A guy that made you happy. Its like Theo was punishing you for being happy.

You were sat in potions noticing Theo hadn't show up, and you were pissed. He was being selfish, this was a group project.

You go to the hospital wing to find Theo, but Madame Pomfrey told you he was dismissed last night but Cedric was still there. You looked over at Ced, noticing his curtain was shut, I guess he had company, you thought and just walked out. If Theo wasn't in class then there's only one placed he'd be.

You scaled the stairs to the Astronomy reaching the top as you took a moment to get your breath. You noticed Theo by the railing and you sigh.

"Theo you can't skip class"

He turned to look at you, inhaling the smoke from his cigarette as he looked at you. "Well I am so it doesn't fucking matter. Don't you have a baby to coddle?"

"Fuck off Theo, don't be a prick" You scoffed

"He's a bad person Y/N. Why won't you fucking listen to me"

"BECAUSE YOUR CHATTING SHIT NOTT" You yell at him.

"You don't even know what he said about you. He called you a slut. Your nothing but a hole to fill" He sneered.

"What the fuck is wrong with you! Are you jealous I'm happy?" You laughed at him, distressed with the situation.

"You aren't happy" He snapped.

"How do you know? How do you know what's good for me!" You stare at his back, rage building up inside of you as you yelled out at him.

"BECAUSE IM GOOD FOR YOU.." Theo yelled. He turned to look at you, his breath erratic. "I know whats good for you and its me.. not him, no one else. Its me, it'll always be me" His teeth are gritted as he looked as you as you stand in shock. "I love you Y/N! It's always been you. Every fucking waking moment I think about you, your fucking stupid coconut smelling hair! The way your lip dimple shows when you smile a certain way. I spend every waking moment thinking about you. I live and breathe for you Y/N."

You stand there stunned as you look down at him.

"Haven't I made it fucking obvious? I fought the fucking freak for you! Yes initially he did nothing but.. He called you horrible things.. I can't bare to see you with another man that isn't me. I think about you so much bella.. Morning, noon and fucking night, I think about you.." His voice cracked as he stared down at you before he took your hand, kneeling down infront of you holding your hand. "It'll always be you.." He softly kissed your hand.

Your eyes slightly glassy from the confession as you stand speechless.

"Please say something bella.." Theo looked up at you, his hands grasping yours.

You burst out into tears, ripping your hand away from him as you cover your face. "You are so annoying Theo- I- I didn't know you felt like this" You sobbed as you wiped your eyes. Your mascara smudged all over your face.

Theo stood up, cupping your face between his hands as he wiped your tears with his thumbs as he chuckled, a tear rolling down his eye.

"I guess we are both stupid.." He chuckled lightly.

"You're such an asshole" You hit his chest playfully, laughing slightly through the sobs. His hand catching yours as you hit his chest, before his lips crashed against yours.

The pair of you finally became one.

If you enjoyed this fic and want to buy me a coffee, you can do so here!

#harrypotter fanfiction #lorenzo zurzolo #slytherin boys #slytherin boys fanfiction #slytherin fanfiction #theo nott x reader #theodore nott x reader #theodore nott angst #theodore nott confession #angelfrombenethfics

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ogviceversa · 4 months ago

Text

Billy’s College Adventure Part 3

Samuel:

“Good Morning,” says Billy to me from my body.I almost have to do a double take after seeing myself laying next to me.

“Morning,” I say with a grin.

“So it’s Saturday, what do you have planned for us Mr. Bodythief?,”

“Well you’re gonna just have to dressed to find out,” I say back.

“Booooo!!!”

I stand up and Billy tosses a pillow at me.

“Relax! I’ll tell you more, let’s just get ready,” I say winking at him.

We both get dressed and it took all of my energy not to ask him if we could hook up in the shower.

I’m starting to really like Billy but I have this weird thing about getting too attached to a guy. Especially with the assholes I’ve dated in the past. I’ve just been burned too many times although Billy seems different…

I don’t know…I just don’t want him to think I’m too clingy. Which I now realize is an oxymoron since we are literally in each other’s bodies.

Anyways enough about my feels.

Billy and I head back to my apartment.

“This place looks familiar,” says Billy sarcastically.

“It’s not much especially compared to your place but it’s my temporary home,” I say back.

“Ohhh come this isn’t bad at all!”

“Billy you’re in a full ass house,” I say rolling my eyes.

“Okay, you’re right. I’m just the rich privileged kid.”

“Well, I’m glad you’re at least aware,” I say pushing your shoulder.

“So what’s the game plan? Are we just gonna stand around in your apartment?”

“ No. I need the book that my great uncle left me.”

I head into my room and open up my closet. I grab the book from the top shelf.

“So Billy, are you ready to put your powers to test?”

“Geez, I think so.”

“Good!”

I start scrolling through the book digging for the part where it talks about the power of having to swappers.

“Here it is!”

I’d start skimming through it and get to a specific part.

I start reading aloud, “ one swapper is powerful, but their abilities can be limited… but with two swappers now that’s some real power. Rarely in our culture you will see two swappers who are capable of getting along… But if two swappers can conjoin powers together, they can do some really interesting things. For instance, swapping and creating a new reality . Two swappers have the ability to swap two individuals bodies, and change the perception of reality where both individuals think that the body they are in has always been their body. Essentially, neither one of them know that they are swapped and everyone else around them thinks that has been their body the whole time.”

I stopped reading for a second and look up a Billy to see what his thoughts were about what I just read.

“ are you gonna keep going?”

“ well yeah, what do you think though?”

“ I think that’s pretty freaking cool. I mean it could be a little bit messed up, but I’m kind of interested to try it.”

“ Really? Are you 100% sure?”

“ yeah let’s do it!”

I continue to read the rest of the page and I get through all of the instructions.

“ OK Billy, now we have to find some guinea pigs.”

“ I mean, should we start with someone we know or try it with a stranger first?”

“ Well I think I controlled environment would be best. Somewhere where we cant let them walk away and lose them immediately after the swap.”

“Smart!”

“ I’m a genius right? Also, Billy, this doesn’t have to be the first one we try.”

“Wait, what else can two swappers do?”

“Do you want me to tell you about all the other swap powers or can I jump right to the one I really want to try?”

"HOW MANY MORE ARE THERE?!?"

"Let's start with this one, third party possession. Or I like to call it-- a person puppet. Basically one of us can take over someone body without leaving the one we are in habiting. It's like two bodies at once."

"Does that person know that you or I have taken over their body?"

"No... I have read this one over a couple of times now. Basically they will be in a unaware state while one of us are in control."

"Okay, I guess that one sounds less chaotic. Who should we try it on?"

I thought about it for a minute and then I had someone in mind. I peaked out at the window to see if my neighbor was home.

"I got someone who could work," I say with a mischievous grin.

“Who?”

“My neighbor Reid, you’ll like him or at least his body lol.”

“Wait am I going to possess him?!?”

“Yeah, I think you’ll like it.”

“Fuck, fine! Let’s do this!!”

I grab Billy’s or I guess my hands and say, “I want you to focus. Thinking about all of your powers almost like you’re about to swap with someone, okay?”

“Got it.”

“Now close your eyes and picture a part of yourself floating out of my body, not all of yourself… just a part.”

“Okay…”

“Can you see it?”

It takes a minute for Billy to focus but then I see our hands and they start glowing a bit.

“I can see it,” he says softly.

“Great, now picture that second half of you floating out the window to the house door.”

Billy’s closed eyes move shut.

“I’m in the neighbor’s house… I can see everything inside. Wait, I hear someone… sleeping… now I’m in his room. Holy shit! I can see him!!”

“Really?!? Now Billy this is what you’re going to do next, float into him. Doesn’t matter how you do it.”

Billy’s eyes spring open and he says, “I’m in him. I feel his body… it’s so strange Sam. I’m him and I’m me.”

“Well come on over lol!”

“Okay one sec.”

A few minutes later and our front door swings open. It’s my neighbor’s body.

“What’s up you sexy fellas!!”

I turn to Billy and then back at Reid’s body as they are both grinning cheek to cheek.

I watch as Billy coordinates Reid’s body over to a chair.

“Look at these muscles Sam!,” says Reid’s body

“Fuck this is so hot! I’m watching myself control him, it’s like I can do some kind of strange role play. Wait a minute!!”

Reid’s body tugs off his tank top and then his shoes and socks.

He stares down at the giant feet and says, “they’re big.”

I watch as he picks up foot and smells it. He rubs Reid face all over his massive foot.

“This is so wrong but I’m so turned on. You’re gonna either have to watch or join us.”

Billy still in my body walks over to the giant hunk and reaches into his shorts.

They say in unison, “that feels good.”

I was starting to get hard just watching both bodies interact. Billy started running my hands over Reid’s muscles.

He pulls off Reid shorts and underwear. His dick comes out and both of us marvel at the giant cock.

“Let’s take turns with it,” he says from Reid’s body. “Shit I meant to say that from your body!”

We both laugh and I say, “All good lol, bedroom?”

“Great idea! You fellas are gonna have fun with me aren’t you? Especially this giant cock!,” says Reid’s body standing up while shaking his dick.

“Yes sir,” I say to him.

Billy picks me up in Reid’s arms and carries me to my bed.

We all three climb in and Billy asks me, “could you tend Reid’s junk.”

“Sure!!”

I grab onto the massive dick girthy dick. It’s surprising to see just how big it is.

“Are you gonna just stare it or suck it?,” says Reid’s body.

I turn to Billy down by Reid’s feet. He’s giggling and says, “sorry, I have two hard dick right now!”

I try to take as much of Reid’s I could fit in my mouth. It’s just so big. I get the entire thing wet and use a hand to work the shaft and his big hairy balls.

Billy on the other hand pulls off my pants and begins using Reid’s feet for a foot job.

Both of them moan in unison and say, “FUCK! You have no idea how amazing this feels!!”

I pump Reid’s dick faster and faster…

Both of them moan louder and louder….

Billy in my body reaches up under his ass cheeks and fondles his my body’s cock for me.

“LET ME FINISH IN MY MOUTH PLEASE SAM!,” he screams out.

I’m forcing Billy’s throat down on Reid’s dick.

Both of them scream out, “FUCKKKKKKKK!!!!”

That’s when rounds of cum squirt down my throat. It fills my throat and I can’t take anymore.

I look down at Reid’s dick and it’s still pouring more and more out.

Billy in my body cums all over Reid’s feet both of them grinning.

I fall back on the bed and both my body and Reid’s body with Billy still in control use themselves to give me every inch of pleasure.

Billy in my body climbs to my face and start making out. He twist’s his actual body’s sensitive nipples. Meanwhile Reid’s body sucking me off and tickling Billy body’s ballsack.

I can’t only take so much before I blew my load into Reid’s mouth…

All three or two… I don’t know… we just lay back cuddled up.

I turn to Billy in my body and say, “That was amazing.”

Billy grins and says, “we are definitely going to try this again!”

#body swap #male tf #male body swap #body theft

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