#I’m really happy with how this turned out | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

blueywrites · 2 days

Text

someday I'll get it

eddie munson x fem!reader eddie comforts you when the lingering memory of your ex brings shame with soaked sheets.

3.1k

cw: 18+. toxic ex, feelings of self-doubt, referenced verbal abuse, hurt/comfort, smut, squirting, first time piv with new partner, no y/n, no physical descriptions.

this is for my fellow infps & all the girlies who fall fast and hard. a bit of a departure from the other naughty nights entries - not as filthy, quite a bit more emotional. I really liked writing it! check out the original ask here.

enjoy xx

Two months after you and David broke up, you downloaded Hinge. Your best friend helped you make your profile, and after some careful crafting over brunch mimosas to soften the flaws you saw in your photos and loosen your lips to make you clever in your bio, you were happy with the facsimile of yourself you’d presented to the dating public. The nerves only crept in during the Uber ride back to your apartment. What if no one liked you? What if what David said— that you’d never find someone that cared about you like he did— turned out to be right? You knew, deep down, that David’s idea of ‘care’ was not what you wanted. But as the weeks went by, your hope began to dwindle; your heart shriveled a little more each time a potential connection faltered and died. And though you kept reminding yourself how bad things were with him, how small he made you feel and how little he truly gave you, you couldn’t help the fragment inside you that hissed in a raspy twang:

Maybe I’m all you’re good enough for. Maybe my love is all you really deserve, and without me, you’ll just end up alone.

And then you found Eddie.

His was the first conversation that lasted longer than a handful of back-and-forth messages, aside from that one rushed first ‘date’ that turned out just to be an attempt to get some dick’s dick wet. Eddie was chatty, maybe a bit excessively so, but you’d take that over the dry single-sentence replies most guys seemed capable of. It was refreshing not to be the one sending double- and triple-texts for once. And he didn’t do it in an anxious way, either, or one that made you feel you weren’t answering quickly enough. It seemed more that he just wanted to talk to you about whatever popped into his head, and that— along with his pretty brown eyes and smile, his lobe piercings and hand tattoos, and that one blurred photo of him playing guitar on some cramped bar stage, looking all sweaty and alive— piqued your interest in a major way.

Eventually, he took you on a first date, which was followed quickly by a second. And after a full month or so of officially seeing one another, now, following an afternoon spent together, you’re in your bed with him— laid out along your sheets, his weight having dipped the mattress beside you enough times that it’s just starting to feel familiar.

Looking up at Eddie above you, you’re hit again by how sexy he is, sexier than his Hinge profile would’ve suggested, even though that initial photo made your finger pause in the first place. In it, his hair was tied up at the nape of his neck; it’s loose now, hanging around his pale face in loose tangles ‘cause you’d run your fingers through it while he kissed you. His brow was furrowed in concentration, and it is again, except now there’s the pink flush of arousal across his cheeks and a sheen of sweat gleaming off the bulb of his soft nose, visible in the dim light from your lamp. That first time you saw him, Eddie's fingers were wrapped around a tattoo gun, frozen mid-stroke as he carefully etched ink into skin. Now, they’re quite in motion— just as deft and strong, but instead of using them to crawl the needle across the expanse of someone’s back, he’s plunging them into your swollen pussy, winding you up tighter and tighter ‘til you’re writhing on your own sheets.

He’s been at it for a little while now, coaxing your pleasure out with those thrusting fingers and the rough pad of his thumb swiping over your clit. You moan, letting your eyes slip closed as your orgasm starts to rush up, ready to let that wave wash over you before you happily return the favor. But when Eddie presses the heel of his palm firmly into your lower stomach, flicking his thumb faster against your clit as he fingers you, your mounting pleasure twists, thrumming into something more intense.

Oh, fuck.

The feeling is ecstasy but beneath it, there’s also panic. Because you know— and dread— what comes next.

You gasp, choking on the words of warning stuck in your throat, your hand snapping to grip his wrist. You mean to pull it off but you don’t, just clutch him tight in a way he must take as encouragement because he starts to talk you through it. “That’s it, sweetheart, soak my fuckin’ hand—”

It’s inevitable now, so you stop trying to fight it. Like a flipped switch, you release the resistance, leaning into the feeling, which triples in size the moment you do. You seize up, crying out as you cum around Eddie’s fingers— eyelids fluttering, mouth hanging open, the gush of fluid against your inner thighs a secondary sensation to the gut-wrenching orgasm wracking your body. When it subsides, your body feels wrung out in the best way, sunken into the mattress, languid and boneless and like you’re so light you might float away if Eddie wasn’t pressing kisses into your neck like praise.

The peace has to break though. It always does. The second you shift and feel the sodden sheets below you, that familiar shame triggers, quick on the heels of a cruel twang bouncing around your skull.

You draw your legs up, inadvertently kneeing Eddie in the belly. When he pulls back to look at you, you’re curling into yourself, staring up at him so mournfully his heart must twist ‘cause you can see it written on his face.

He searches your face for a moment. Then Eddie’s eyes widen and his face blanches; you see the concern give way to horror. His adam’s apple bobs on a thick swallow. “A-Are you okay?” Eddie croaks, hovering awkwardly now, seemingly stuck between wanting to reach for you and give you space. “Did I hurt you? Did you not want—?”

He looks sick, but you’re quick to shake your head, feeling even sadder now that you’d made him worry. “No, m’sorry,” you say in a small voice. “I’m so sorry, I’m— I didn’t mean to.” You take a breath that hitches in your chest. “I-I made a mess…”

Instantly, Eddie looks relieved. He even huffs a little disbelieving chuckle. "So? You think I care about a little mess?" he asks, squinting as he tips his head at you, aiming for levity. But his attempt to make light of things can't break through to you— not after all the times you've been here before, cowering in your own cooling puddle as David beat you down with his caustic words, leaving you with bruises on the inside of your ribs.

When your expression crumples further, any amusement slides off Eddie's face, leaving him utterly somber. Quietly, he says your name. "Are you alright?"

Your mouth works soundlessly for a moment before you find your voice. It feels jagged, like it’s been broken apart and splintered back together. “My ex… he used to get really mad when that happened. Said it was gross, that it was my fault now he’d have to wash the sheets.” An ache rises up your throat, and you avert your eyes. “He’d make me do it and change the bed before I could go to sleep.”

A severe wrinkle forms between Eddie’s brows— confusion, indignation, maybe both. “Wait, but— couldn’t he feel it coming? It feels different inside when a girl’s gonna squirt. Why would he keep doing it if he didn’t want you to?” He’s plain, as direct as he always is, and in the face of such a bald question, you have nothing to reply with but the barest shrug of shoulders weighed heavy under a burden you haven’t yet been able to shed.

When some seconds pass in silence, Eddie realizes you aren’t going to elaborate. He softens. “I’m sorry,” he says quietly. “For what it’s worth, sex is supposed to be messy. And I really wanted to make you feel good. I’m glad I did.”

You can’t see them, but you can feel his fingertips brush against your ankle. When you nudge into the touch, he places a tentative hand on your foot, letting his thumb press into the center just below your toes. He raises his eyebrows, looking something like a puppy dog. “D’you wanna take a break? Can I get you some water?”

You shake your head, then open your hands to him— not quite able to extend your arms out for a hug, feeling too brittle and pathetic to make your wanting so obvious. You find with relief that Eddie is perceptive enough to know what the gesture means. Carefully, he leans over you and plants his palms beside your upper arms, sliding them under to fold you in. When he goes to lower himself in a slant on top of you, you let your knees fall open in a silent invitation instead. You’re very happy you did when, after some mutual shifting and shimmying to make yourselves comfortable, Eddie’s weight slots against you— your collarbone to his chest, his lap held in the cradle of your thighs, your arms wound underneath his to clutch his bare back as he presses you into a comforting embrace.

You focus on the feeling of Eddie on top of you— his belly expanding and contracting against your navel, his heat seeping into you head-to-toe, his herb-musk scent clinging to his shoulder when you tuck your face there, slowly letting him ease you. For a while, you breathe into him like that, letting yourself sink into the intimacy of all his bare skin against yours until the physical sensations swallow up that hissing voice, and it finally falls silent. With a heavy sigh of relief, the last of the lingering tension from the memory of David leaves you.

Finding you now relaxed, Eddie hums against your hair, a rumble that sounds like satisfaction with himself that he was able to bring you comfort. He untucks one of his hands from beneath you then, shifts his arm along your sheets so his forearm frames your head. You pull your face from his hot skin, letting your head thump back against the mattress as the final surrender to your recovery.

Eddie’s thumb strokes along your hairline as he looks down at you, his hips cradled by yours, his flagging but still present erection pressed intimately against the crease of your thigh behind his boxers. Quickly, you realize how much easier it was to be embraced like this when he wasn’t looking at you. Under his gaze, you feel exposed, almost too much to bear-- too vulnerable, your soft underbelly revealed for him to sink his teeth into. But he doesn't. Maybe, you think, Eddie never would. Where David had fangs, Eddie's teeth are blunted; capable of damage if he were to try hard enough, but more suited to playful nips, which is all he ever seems to care for anyways, at least for how little long you've known him. He's still new, and you're still learning how it feels for him to see you and decide what he'll do with what he finds.

It's thrilling and downright scary to let him, but you let him. You blink up at Eddie, deliberately resisting the urge to master your expression and hide from him. Your heart thuds and squirms as he observes you for a long moment, still stroking your forehead with his thumb like you're a skittish rabbit, kept only from fleeing by a gentle, hypnotizing touch.

After a long moment, Eddie's features ease. One corner of his lips tugs up into a crooked, dimpled smile. "Pretty girl," he murmurs, and something releases inside you. Your hands skate down the hot plain of his back, skimming slowly over its topography-- the elegant jut of his shoulder blades, the solid strength of his lats, the low, curved dip just before the hill of his covered cheeks. Those you spread your fingers over, gently pulling him in closer to you, and you flutter at the shaky breath he exhales over your lips as his shaft presses tighter between your bodies.

"You want to?" he whispers, his eyes flitting between yours. You know what he’s asking. In the month you’ve been together, you’ve done pretty much everything but gone all the way with him. You weren’t waiting for anything in particular, more just a sense that it would feel right to connect with him that way.

You feel that now.

So you respond with a kiss— firm, decisive, one that Eddie opens his mouth instantly to. His tongue finds yours eagerly, slick muscle against slick muscle, and the wet sounds of you meeting and parting have your arousal stirring up into a flurry of excitement and desire. Your fingertips ease beneath the waistband of his boxers, pushing the fabric down to bare him, and you crane your neck to keep kissing him until eventually you can’t reach any lower. Eddie helps you shimmy them off then, his lips falling still as he concentrates on wiggling his hips and kicking his legs to get them down to his ankles. You feel him kick one final time, followed by the faint shlump of fabric hitting the ground before he’s suddenly propped on his elbows and his hands are cupping your cheeks, tilting your face to kiss you so thoroughly it steals your breath away.

And you think— expect, maybe— that now that you’re about to have sex, the energy between you and Eddie will keep escalating until you’re caught up in a rush: both panting, desperate, fervent in your need for completion. But it doesn’t happen like that. Instead, your kisses slow, turning into lingering, open-mouthed presses, a sensual ebb and flow of lips and tongue and teeth— deep, savoring, as if the pleasure of what you’ll both feel when he joins with you is so certain, there’s no need to hurry it along. You raise your knee to open yourself up, and with a nudge of Eddie’s narrow hips, his shaft nestles into the slick wetness between your puffy lips. You press up to meet him, grinding slowly in time with your kisses until your abundant arousal coats him thoroughly, easing the way for you to reach down and guide his tip to catch at your entrance. And when you lift your legs, joining your ankles at the back of his thighs, you feel Eddie enter you for the first time.

There’s no resistance. It’s just a slip, a glide, and an exquisite stretch as he sinks inside, splitting you with his thickness. Eddie moans low as his cockhead meets the deepest part of you. It’s a gravelly sound, one that rumbles against your breasts when you twine your limbs tighter around him, already covetous of the feeling of him touching every bit of you he possibly can. Your pussy flexes and flutters, testing the welcome intrusion, preening when she elicits an answering twitch from his length before he draws just slightly back and rocks in again. You sigh softly, smiling as your eyes slip closed when you feel Eddie’s curved lips press to your temple.

The rhythm you find together is natural, if rather shallow— shallow because your hands are clutching at his back and his arms are wrapped tight around you, keeping you close as can be. He can’t pull even halfway out; his hips rock in the barest gap that remains as if neither of you can stand even that much distance. There’s no lack of enthusiasm, though, no lack of passion as he pushes in so tight that the pressure has your swollen clit jolting with a delicious spark on every thrust. The heat between you grows, turning you sticky and damp with sweat down the length of your bodies. The pleasure grows too, quickly for you with all the stimulation until you’re panting against his shoulder. It grows unimpeded until Eddie nestles his face down further toward you, inadvertently feeding you a mouthful of his hair.

You turn your cheek and try to spit it out, but the thick, dry strands stick stubbornly to your lips until you have to enlist his help. "Your hair's everywhere, Eddie,” you murmur, more amused than anything.

"Ah, shit.” You have to hide a smile against his jaw at how put out he sounds. “Sorry." He tries to shake it away from you, craning his neck back but unwilling to stop embracing you.

"S' okay." Gently, you extract your arms from under his, huffing a little chuckle at the tiny whine of protest that rumbles in his throat. He props himself up so you can carefully clear his face: nudging his bangs out of his eyes, then pushing back the bulk of his curls, tucking them tenderly behind his ears.

"There," you say, sweet and warm, your smile growing at the way the hair almost springs right out again. Unable to be contained, a lot like Eddie.

A lot like the way you feel about him.

"I love your hair," you tell him suddenly, your heart twisting at the way he lights up in response. Eddie rubs the very tip of his nose against yours, smiling boyish and wide, and emotion wells up inside you-- potent and poignant like the sting of happy tears, sweet like coming home and tender like a bruise all at once.

And it’s like the second you say it, you can’t stop thinking about what words really want to spring from your lips. But it's too soon, far too soon, so you cup his face, draw your thumb along his cheek, and kiss him instead, keeping yourself occupied so those words will stay inside.

You kiss him until he’s moving steadily within you again; kiss him until you’re squirming beneath him, whining into his mouth. Kiss him as he drives you over the edge of bliss and then follows you, groaning when he throbs and spills inside. You kiss Eddie until the pleasure fades into contentment, until you both are sated, until those kisses gradually slow and gentle and turn to chaste presses of swollen, love-bitten lips.

Your mouths finally part. And when you see the way Eddie’s looking at you— the curl at the corner of his lips, the subtle tilt of his brow, the warmth in his deep brown eyes— you remember what David told you before you made him leave.

You’ll never find someone who cares about you the way I do.

You knew he was wrong then. But now, you know it.

#blueywrites #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fic #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson one shot #eddie munson angst

492 notes · View notes

nightsandrewrites · 1 day

Text

Illyrian Males

Pairing: Cazriel x Reader

Summary: Cassian and Azriel make a bet to see who can get Y/N first. But is she already seeing someone?

Word count: 13k oops

Warnings: M/M before you get to readers involvement, smut, 18+, dubious consent if you squint

a/n: It wasn’t meant to be this long but I couldn’t keep the bat boys off each other so…

———————————————————————

You swirl the last of your drink around your glass, enjoying the cool night air flowing through the House of Wind. The door to the balcony lies open where Feyre and Mor just left with a sleeping Nyx. Mor was escorting Feyre and the Prince of the Night Court back to the River House before returning home herself.

You know the High Lord would have escorted his lady himself had Feyre not insisted. “Stay and enjoy more time with your family, you work too hard.”

Now it was only the Ilyrrian brothers left with you in the small sitting area. You watch as Rhysand, Cassian and Azriel grin at each other like children who are up to no good. It warms your heart to see them happy and spending time together after everything you’ve all been through. You decided it’s time you excused yourself for bed and let the boys have their night together. You down the rest of your drink before standing.

“I’m off to bed, keep the volume down you lot.” You give them a smile and turn, making your way down the hall.

Cassian watches Y/N leave. His initial stare is innocent, noting her stride and balance, indicating to him how much she’s had to drink. But as she retreats down the hall he can’t help that his eyes fall to her swaying hips. The dress she’s wearing perfectly hugging her curves and the thought of tearing it of-

“You’re fucking Y/N” Rhysand states and Cassian whips his head round to him. Rhysand’s expression is relaxed as his eyes flick between him and Azriel. As if he had stated something as obvious as ‘the sky was blue’’.

Cassian looks across at Azriel. He was sure the same confused expression was plastered on his own face.

You fucked her? Cassian asks through their shared mating bond.

Of course not. Did you? He questions back.

Cassian doesn’t bother replying, he knows Azriel can feel his confusion and suspicion all the way down the bond.

“What are you talking about?” Cassian turns back to Rhys who was silently watching their exchange.

“In the hundreds of years I’ve known you, both of you, I’ve never seen either of you look at someone like that,” he nods to the hallway you disappeared down “except each other.” He pulls his drink to his lips, hiding a small smirk.

Cassian wills his cheeks not to warm, having been caught out lusting after someone who wasn’t his mate. But Rhysand had said both of them? Had Azriel also been watching you leave with more than just friendly affection in his eyes? He spares a glance to Azriel who is already watching him, head tilted in consideration.

“Well I don’t know what you think you’re seeing but you need to get your eyes checked old man.” Cassian stands and pats Rhysands shoulder as he moves past him to the small bar against the wall. He really needed to be doing something with his hands right now and pouring another drink was the perfect excuse to get out from under the scrutinising eyes of his mate and High Lord.

“My mistake.” He chuckles and quickly moves on to discussing plans for a boys night out.

————————————————————————

Azriel towels off his damp hair in the mirror. It was now well into the early hours of the morning, Rhysand having only just headed home for the night. He probably should have just gone to bed, but he does his best thinking while soaking in warm waters.

He tracks one of his shadows in the mirror as it swirls up his bicep and curls around his ear, whispering to him.

Cassian leaving his room….

Another shadow brushes the back of his neck

...coming to see us.

Azriel always used his shadows as sentinels, guarding the hallway outside his room. As much as he would like to give Cassian his privacy, his shadows seemed to be just as obsessed with the Illyrian warrior as he was. Often reporting his comings and goings without request.

He wraps a towel around his waist and moves into his bedroom looking for something to wear. With trained Illyrian hearing he could now pick up on Cassian’s footfalls down the hall. They’d kept their separate rooms, as no one except Rhysand was aware of their mating bond. Their ability to communicate silently through the bond was a massive advantage in combat, they didn’t want to risk anyone finding out about it and that information spreading across courts. But they couldn’t have really hoped to keep it from Rhysand with how often he was inside their heads.

Azriel senses Cassian open the door and walk in as he’s pulling underwear out of a draw.

“I’m changing asshole” Azriel glares at him over a shoulder.

“What? Have something I haven’t seen before?” Cassian rolls his eyes and throws himself into the armchair in the corner of the room, letting his head fall back in exhaustion.

Azriel takes a moment to appreciate Cassian’s bare torso and follows the cut of his muscles that disappear beneath soft grey pants. He drops his eyes to the floor noticing his shadows already slithering along to the General. Cassian lifts his head and looks him up and down waiting for him to drop his towel. Azriel feels his cheeks warm under the intense gaze. He racks his mind for something to distract Cassian with, that would allow him to change in peace, and remembers Rhysand’s comment about Y/N tonight.

“So, you’ve finally grown bored of me and have moved on to eye fucking our roomate?” Azriel raises an eyebrow at him. That did the trick. Cassian drops his face to the floor where shadows now swirl around his ankles, slowly climbing his covered calves. Azriel quickly drops his towel and pulls on his underwear. He softly closes the drawer with his hip, he wouldn’t need anymore clothing tonight with the heater of an Illyrian that was Cassian sharing his bed.

“Rhysand definitely didn’t think it was just me.” Cassian lifts his eyes back to Azriel, cheeks flushed with the slightest of pink. Azriel makes his way to the edge of the bed before replying.

“So what if I was?” Azriel leans back on his hands, shoulders flexing under his weight. Cassian’s eyebrows shoot up. He stands and strides across the room, shadows still clinging to him, almost at his waist now.

“Are you saying I don’t satisfy you anymore?” Cassian bends over him, leaning large strong hands on Azriel’s thighs. Azriel feels him squeeze ever so slightly.

“Maybe she’d actually be able to follow instructions.” Azriel smirks up at him. Referencing all the times that Cassian has failed to follow his commands. Hands up, no touching until I say. Stay quiet baby, you don’t want the others to hear you. And Azriel’s personal favourite. Don’t finish until I tell you to.

Azriel leans forward, brushing his lips against Cassian’s ear as he whispers “Or maybe I keep imagining her lips wrapped around your dick as I take you from behind.” Azriel watches the shiver that runs down Cassian’s spine. He slides his hand up Cassian’s inner thigh, scattering the shadows there, until he lands on the Illyrians rock hard length.

Cassian suddenly pushes him backwards and Azriel slides further up the bed. He climbs the mattress pushing Azriel’s legs apart as he settles himself between them. His pupils are blown wide and his wings pump once behind him in a show of dominance.

“You think her tongue, her warm pussy, would have you moaning the way you do when you’re fucked out on my cock?” Cassian growls as he shoves down his pants, releasing himself from their restraint. He pumps himself and Azriel can only bite his lip in anticipation as he watches Cassian’s hand make two long strokes.

Azriel bucks his hips up, pinned under Cassian’s hungry gaze. Cassian’s lips raise in a half smirk and he swiftly removes Azriel’s underwear. His eyes never leave Azriel’s as he slowly reaches out to the bottle on the nightstand and lubes his fingers. Azriel knows he’s doing it on purpose, wants him to squirm for a moment before giving him what he wants. He finally leans over Azriel, reaches down and slowly circles his hole. Azriel closes the distance between them, capturing Cassian's bottom lip between his teeth, a silent plea to hurry up.

Cassian pushes inside him with two fingers, pumping quickly, already spreading him open. Azriel drops his head back into the pillow with a moan. Cassian knows he likes to take his pleasure with a side of pain, so wouldn’t take too much care in opening him up. Azriel shifts his legs up a little giving Cassian better access.

“That smart mouth of yours has nothing left to say?” Cassian murmurs against his skin as he kisses down his exposed neck. Azriel only lets out a soft moan in response.

It’s only a couple of more strokes with skilled fingers before Cassian’s lining his head up with Azriel’s ass. He enters him in one swift motion that has Azriel arching off the bed. Cassian sets an unrelenting pace that has him seeing white behind his eyes. A calloused hand wraps around Azriel’s length and gives him swift pumps that match the deep strokes inside him.

Azriel can barely think straight with Cassian consuming every nerve. Cassian shifts back on his knees a little, dragging Azriel with him.

“You think Y/N could read your body like this?” Cassian continues his unwavering thrusts as his grip on Azriel’s cock tightens. Azriel feels it then. Feels soft gliding strokes across the inner part of his right wing and he can’t stop the whine that escapes him.

Cassian, the cocky bastard, chuckles above him. Azriel reels in the last of his focus to retort.

“I wouldn’t need her to, she’d be riding my face right now.” Cassian’s dick twitches inside him at the comment and the Illyrian above him lets out a low possessive growl. He pulls out of Azriel and quickly flips him on his front, lifts his hips and thrusts back into him hard. Cassian bends over him trapping his wrists to the bed.

“Now you get to cum untouched.” Cassian sneers at him.

Azriel has lost the power of speech, the new deeper angle has him coming undone. Every stroke has Cassian dragging over that sensitive bundle of nerves inside him. Azriel isn’t concerned how his comments might land with Cassian. Every time he mentions Y/N he can feel Cassian’s lust flaring through the bond.

A few more snaps of Cassian’s hips have them both exploding, Azriel moaning into his pillow before they both collapse in a pile of sweaty limbs.

“Now I’m going to need another bath.” Azriel huffs, rolling onto his side facing Cassian.

“Sucks to be you” Cassian smirks and Azriel punches his bicep before leaning in and kissing him gently.

————————————————————————

Cassian pulls back and speaks into Azriel’s mind, too exhausted for more words.

It’s weird isn’t it, that we both started… noticing Y/N at the same time?

Just noticing? Azriel chuckles. Is that all it is, is it?

You know what I mean. Cassian physically rolls his eyes at him.

It is a little strange. Azriel admits as he rolls on his back, staring up at the dark ceiling. Too bad for you she would pick me over you.

As if! Cassian gives his arm a shove with his elbow.

Want to bet? Loser has to go down on the winner for a month straight. Azriel turns his head back to Cassian, eyebrows raised in challenge. Cassian quickly glances down between the Shadowsingers legs. He quickly debates how much damage Azriel’s considerable length could do in that amount of time.

Make it two weeks and you’re on. Cassian narrows his eyes. Are we talking, taking her to bed? He lets his features fall then and lets his wariness flow through the bond. He’s unsure how’d he feel taking someone to bed without his mate.

Let’s just go with getting her to agree on a date. Azriel reaches up and strokes the back of his fingers down Cassian’s stubbled jawline. Pure love vibrates through him from the threads that lay between them.

You’re on. Cassian leans forward and seals the bet with a quick kiss.

———————————————————————

A week passes and Cassian can’t stop thinking about the bet they made. He didn’t want to act too soon, didn’t want Azriel to think him too eager in going after Y/N. But who was he kidding? He found himself back in that sitting room, weekly drinks in full swing, watching Y/N bite her lip, holding in a laugh to the story Amren was telling her about the boys.

You’re drooling. Azriel teases down the bond. Cassian forces his eyes away from her and to the drink in his lap.

I am not. He scoffs. He looks up at Azriel sitting across from him, mischievously staring at him with knowing eyes. A bead of condensation runs down Azriel’s glass and he watches as Az strokes a long finger up the side wiping it away. God those fingers. He can almost feel how’d they brush his skin, how they’d pull at his hair and dig into his hips. How Cassian would take Azriel’s finger into his mouth, running his tongu-

Unless you want me to show you what these fingers can do to you right here, in front of everyone, I suggest you stop. Azriel’s eye’s darken as he shifts uncomfortably in his seat.

Who’s drooling now? Cassian smirks at him.

Y/N’s laughter brings him back to the room. The others are almost doubled over at the story Amren just finished. Rhys starts topping up glasses with the bottle of wine in his hand, but Y/N holds up a hand when he reaches her.

“I think I need some water and maybe a snack.” She explains as she stands and heads through the door and down the hall to the kitchen.

So you haven’t talked to Y/N yet. Worried she’s going to say no to you? Azriel has obviously recovered from the images Cassian had thrown down the bond moments ago.

You haven’t either. Cassian quips back.

Oh no, I’m happy for you to go first. I want to give you a fighting chance. Azriel teases. Cassian, never one to back down from a challenge, puts down his glass and makes his way to the door.

As he’s leaving he feels a mix of amusement and curiosity flow through the bond between them. Followed by a small tug of jealousy. Cassian smirks to himself, Azriel should be jealous, he was about to lay the charm on so thick, no fae would say no to him. But as he reaches the hallway he turns and winks.

Fuck me later asshole. And watches as Azriel visibly relaxes at his words.

————————————————————————

You slice the block of cheese in front of you, carefully avoiding your fingers. You can’t imagine the ribbing you’d get from the boys if you turned up to training tomorrow with a bandaged hand from slicing cheese.

Your vision wobbles ever so slightly and you decide it’s probably best not to push your drunken state and carefully put the knife down. You slide a couple of pieces of bread and cheese onto a plate and turn to go back to the sitting room when you find an Illyrian in the way.

“Want some bread and cheese?” You offer out the plate to Cassian.

“Sure.” He smiles broadly. He enters the kitchen completely, pulling his wings in tight through the doorway. He takes one look at the few pieces on the plate and scoops every last one into his hands.

“Cass!” You smack his shoulder lightly as he turns away chuckling, throwing pieces into his mouth.

“Sit, I’ll get you some more. Wouldn’t want you to slice a finger off with that cutting technique.” He gives you a wink as you take a seat at one of the stools pulled up to the high table in the centre of the kitchen. How long had he been standing there watching you struggle?

You take a moment to focus on Cassian at work. Broad shoulders and muscled biceps were on display tonight through a tight black t-shirt. Muscles under the tan skin of his forearms ripple as he makes light work of preparing your midnight snack. Your eyes start tracing the swirls of Illyrian tattoos that cover his arms, you’ve seen him shirtless more times than you could count, so you know where they swirl across his chest. But beyond that, where those lines lead you could only imagine… No you shouldn’t be imagining. You catch yourself having leant forward on the table following the imagined lines and play it off as intense interest in his slicing technique.

You can not be having those kinds of thoughts about one of your best friends. Someone you lived in the same house as and someone who was fucking one of your other best friends. Of course they don’t know you know that. You don’t even know how you’d begin that conversation.

Hey Az, hey Cass. I was heading back from the library late one night when one of your shadows caught my eye. It seemed to be beckoning me and I thought something might be wrong so I followed it. Turns out, when I approached the sound of your hushed voices, they became moans and I thought you guys were either going at it or one you had finally decided to stab the other..

Okay stabbing was not the imagery you needed right now. Regardless, that was months ago and ever since you’ve been picking up more and more on the looks the two Illyrians share throughout a regular day. Something was definitely going on between the two of them and you weren’t going to be the one to bring it up.

Cassian pulls over the empty plate you discarded on the table between you. He piles on pieces of cheese and bread, but instead of pushing it back towards you he picks it up and walks around the table. He stops right beside you and you turn to face him.

He places the plate down beside you and leans on his elbow against the table.

“Sorry I stole your snack.” He pouts jokingly at you.

“Apology accepted.” You say as you pluck a piece off the plate. “Would you like some more?” You offer him after downing two more pieces and picking up a third.

“I’d love some.” He leans forward slightly and opens his mouth for you. His playfulness catches you off guard but you quickly recover and reach out to hold a piece of bread and cheese to his mouth.

He takes them from your fingers and before you can pull away, he catches your thumb as well. Without breaking eye contact his teeth gently graze the pad of your thumb. You freeze a little and let out a small gasp that you hope he doesn’t notice. He smirks and leans back.

“An interesting snack of choice.” He nods down at the plate, a smile still playing in his eyes.

“Uh.” You stumble a little bit, trying to recover from whatever the Hel that was. “It was just what was lying around.”

“The best midnight snack is the one that takes no effort.” He pushes off the table and heads to the next room that holds an ice chest for the cold foods. It gives you a minute to clear your head, you turn back to the plate to determine what exactly just happened when movement catches in the corner of your eye. You turn just in time to see two of Azriel’s shadows cross paths in the darkness of the doorway.

What kind of game do these two think they’re playing? Well if that’s how it’s going to be, then game on.

Cassian returns to the kitchen, a bowl of strawberries in one arm and a smaller bowl of fresh cream in the other. He was about to make this way too easy for you.

He returns to stand next to you, placing the bowels on the table pushing the plate of bread and cheese out of the way. He picks up a strawberry, dips it into the cream and brings it up to his lips.

“See, so easy and I could eat this whole bowel in one sitting.” He places almost the whole strawberry into his mouth and bites it off before the stem.

You follow his lead and bite through a cream dipped strawberry. It really was delicious, you might even make this a new favourite. You both sit in silence for a few minutes, taking turns dipping and eating strawberries.

Azriel once taught you that sometimes all you had to do to get someone to talk was to sit quietly and wait for them to fill the silence. As if on queue…

“So I was thinking.” Cassian picks up a strawberry and rolls it between his fingers. “How about you go to dinner with me and I can show you some of my other favourite food combinations?” He glances up at you. So he wants to take you out to dinner? You might be playing the game now but you still weren’t sure what the end goal was. Had they caught you staring a little too long at Azriel’s chiselled torso during training? Maybe their aim was your total and utter humiliation to teach you a lesson about coveting something that wasn’t yours?

“Oh, uh.” You fake a little flustering. Okay so maybe you didn’t need to fake being flustered when an Illyrian, that literally looked like a winged god, was asking you on a date.

“I’m flattered but I’ve actually been seeing someone recently.” You let the lie roll off your tongue and pretend to be extremely occupied selecting the perfect strawberry.

“Really?” Cassian straightens and you don’t miss the way his wings puff up a little. “Why haven’t you introduced him to everyone?”

You shrug and pick up one of the largest strawberries, coating it in a thick layer of cream.

“Oh you know, it’s not that serious yet. Just a bit of fun.” You bring the strawberry to your mouth and the cream is already beginning to run onto your fingers.

You stick out your tongue and run a long stripe through the cream. You feel Cassian stiffen next to you. Just as you suspected, way too easy. You quickly finish off your strawberry, leaving you with two fingers covered in cream. You suck them into your mouth and turn to Cassian with wide innocent eyes as you pull them out past your lips.

“Thanks for the midnight snack Cass.” You smile and hop off the stool and leave him staring after you in the middle of the kitchen.

————————————————————————

Another shadow slips through the cracked door. It slides its way along to join the others currently swirling around Azriel, slumped in an armchair in the corner of the room. With no candles lit in Cassian’s bedroom, he may as well be invisible.

The newly returned shadow slides around his neck.

Gone, Cassian alone.

Seconds later Cassian pushes open the door and then clicks it shut. He strides across the room, pieces of his hair coming loose of their bindings as he braces his hands on the desk, leaning over the mess of paperwork.

“Didn’t go as you planned then huh?” Azriel speaks up from his shadowy hiding place.

Cassian’s shoulders stiffen in surprise but quickly relax as he turns.

“How many times have I told you not to do that?” Cassian leans back against the desk folding his arms across his chest.

Azriel commands all of the shadows to disperse.

“Just because you got rejected doesn’t mean you have to take it out on me.” Azriel smirks at him. Enjoying for a moment that Cassian finally found someone who would say no to him.

“Please, she didn’t reject me, she’s seeing someone.” Cassian rolls his eyes. And fuck the way Azriel wants to bend him over and spank his ass red raw for doing so.

A shadow glides over Azriels shoulder.

Never seen her with a male.

“Do you think she really is seeing someone though? I’ve never seen or scented another male around her.” Azriel crosses his ankles out in front him, chin resting on intertwined hands.

“I don’t know. Maybe she wants to keep it quiet. But one thing I do know, she wanted to say yes. You should have smelt her Az.” Cassian grins widely. Flashes of strawberries, cream and Y/N’s tongue filter through their bond.

Azriel is left stunned for a moment at the images he’s being fed. Cassian pushes off the desk and sits opposite Azriel on the end of the bed.

“Well maybe she was holding out for another Illyrian.” Azriel teases him. “I hope you’re ready to deliver on that bet.”

Cassian scowles and then another memory is bursting through the bond. Cassian has Y/N’s thumb in his mouth, grazing his teeth along it before flicking it with his tongue. Her eyes are blown wide and her breaths are short and uneven.

Azriel growls then, pushes from his seat and is standing in front Cassian in two long strides.

“If you wanted to put something in your mouth baby, you should have just said so.” Azriel towers over him. He watches as Cassian runs his tongue along his bottom lip, Azriel can practically see the cogs turning in his mind, probably weighing up the risks of continuing to be a brat.

Azriel reaches out and grabs his chin firmly before he has time to decide.

“Be good, and open for me.” Azriel murmurs softly.

Cassian drops his mouth open into Azriel’s hand. Azriel strokes along his jaw with his thumb. His other hand reaches into his pants freeing himself.

He rests the head of his cock on Cassian’s awaiting tongue. The warmth of Cassian’s mouth immediately shoots through him and he can’t help the small groan he lets out.

Cassian sits with his jaw slack, looking up at Azriel with round innocent eyes.

“Please, don’t act like you don’t know what to do with it.” Azriel scoffs. “Show me what that pretty mouth can do.” Azriel releases Cassian’s jaw and slides his hand to the top of Cassian’s neck.

Cassian’s lips wrap around him then, a calloused hand gripping along his base. Azriel moans as his tongue laps at the precum beading at his head. For a moment he loses himself to the warmth of Cassian’s mouth, letting his head fall back. His focus narrows in on the tightness of Cassian’s grip, on the way his tongue rolls around him.

“Think you can take all of me tonight baby?” He flicks his eyes down to Cassian's head, bobbing up and down his length. The only response he gets is a muffled groan that sends vibrations through his dick, Azriel bites his lip to stifle his moan.

He leans forward entering Cassian’s throat, slowly at first allowing him to adjust and pull back if he needs. But Cassian relaxes and takes every inch that Azriel gives him without complaint. Azriel moves a hand to the front of Cassian's throat, feeling the bulge of himself sliding deeper. He could come undone right then and there but he knows he has a task to do tonight. Knows he needs to smooth over the bruises to Cassian's oversized ego after your earlier rejection.

“Look at you Cass, no one else could take me like this.” Azriel murmurs. A tear breaks the corner of Cassian’s eye at the strain of taking his length. Azriel swipes out a thumb, smoothing it over. He starts rocking back and forth down Cassian’s throat.

“Keep those eyes on me, want to see how beautiful you are.” Cassian eyes flick up to Azriel through damp lashes. “Fuck you were made for me baby. Your body is perfect, your mouth, those hands, that ass are all for me.” He growls. In response Cassian tightens his throat around Azriel and that has him coming undone with a moan. He shoots white strands down Cassian’s throat and coats the inside of his mouth. Cassian laps at Azriel’s over sensitive head, cleaning every inch as he slowly pulls out.

Azriel leans down and kisses him deeply. He can taste himself on Cassian’s lips. He drops to his knees between Cassian’s legs and finally releases Cassian’s dick. He gives it a few quick pumps to relieve him of the building tension.

“Fuck, Az!” Cassian’s moan is scratchy, his voice wired out after having Azriel down his throat. And damn does that have Azriel’s dick throbbing again.

“Lay back, let me take care of you.” Azriel pushes gently on Cassian’s abs, but he needs no encouragement to fall back onto the sheets.

Azriel leans forward and runs his tongue from base to tip. He quickly works Cassian to the edge, he knows every nerve, has them mapped out in his mind and traces them with ease. When Cassian is bucking up into him, forcing him to relax his throat, to focus his breathing, he reaches up and strokes that place on the inside of Cassian’s warm leathery wings.

“Azriel!” Cassian cums through clenched teeth. Azriel is sure to suck him dry, before stuffing him back into his pants.

He rises and leans over Cassian, wings splayed.

“Now let’s see what that pretty mouth craves.” Azriel smirks. Cassian closes his hazel eyes, focusing. Racing down the bond, Azriel catches a montage of all the times Cassian has knelt before him. His own cock down Cassian’s throat or in his hands and Azriel’s heart pounds at how beautiful Cassian makes him look in his memories. Azriel crashes his lips into Cassian's, breaking the flow of images. He sends his own thoughts down the bond.

I love you. I love you. I love you.

Cassian’s response is singular.

Mine.

————————————————————————

Two weeks later you're in the training ring with your favourite Illyrians. You’d be lying if you said there wasn’t a little extra swagger to your step these last weeks. You’d beat the boys at whatever game they had tried to play with you. Hadn’t let yourself be caught out by your little fantasies that they may have started suspecting. It gave your ego a much needed boost.

You refocused on the Shadowsinger just in time to block the blade that came swinging down at you.

“You’re distracted.” Azriel says straightening. “Do you need me to ask Cass to leave?”

You both look over to Cassian’s slumped form against the far wall. He was sitting shirtless, legs stretched out in front him. You’d all stripped down layers during the heat of training, it left the Illyrians shirtless and you down to a sweat soaked singlet. Your eyes followed sweat beads rolling over heaving muscles as he caught his breath.

“Please the only thing he could distract me with is his overinflated ego taking up too much space.” You wave your hand around gesturing to the air.

“Ha ha you’re both very funny.” Cassian says dryly. He picks up the towel next to him, pushes off the ground and walks out of the room without another word.

If you were being honest it wasn’t the general who was distracting you today but rather the Illyrian right in front of you. If Cassian relied on glowing looks and charm to win him affection then Azriel relied on broody arrogance and touch. From the moment he walked in this morning he’d been upon you. Small brushes of a calloused hand correcting your grip, taps to your side to widen your stance, a hand held out and gripped just a little too long as he helped you stand from a fall.

You returned to your combat. Making quick slashes forcing Azriel onto his back foot. But he was far more skilled than you were and you weren't stupid enough to think you’d won the upper hand. You narrowed your eyes at him, waiting for him to make his move when you felt the cool whisper against your skin. A dark shadow curls around your neck and slides along your collarbone. It’s quickly joined by another sliding around your ear. You don’t flinch. Don’t give him the satisfaction of seeing you react. You respond with a thrust of your sword which he easily dodges with a small pivot. Before you have a chance to retract your arm a shadow curls around your wrist and squeezes.

Your breath stutters and then your cheeks flush, because you know how closely he monitors an opponent's breathing. Suddenly his leg swings out and catches the back of your knee. You drop your blade as you fall backwards trying to regain your footing but a muscular arm catches you before you hit the ground.

Azriel holds you up a foot from the ground like it’s nothing, grinning at you. And suddenly you realise maybe the game wasn’t over after all. Maybe Azriel, the cunning spymaster he is, was just lying in wait for the right opportunity to mess with you all this time.

“Cheater” you glare up at him.

“You should expect an opponent to use every tool in their arsenal” He chuckles softly.

He stands up, rightening you both but keeps an arm wrapped around you, a hand resting at the small of your back.

“I guess you need to resort to that if you’re worried you’ve lost your touch and were about to lose to little old me.” You grin wickedly, folding your arms across your chest.

You catch darkness flash across his features and then you see nothing at all as a shadow wraps itself over your eyes.

You drop your arms to your side, your body automatically preparing for a fight that isn't coming. You never feared Azriel, only left awed at what he was capable of. You feel a brush of air and then the fan of his breath on your neck as he leans in from behind you.

“Wait until you have to fight me blind sweetheart, no one’s ever walked away from that.” He whispers softly.

You work to calm your stuttering heart, with your vision gone you’re forced to focus on the sound of his voice and the movement of his body with a new found intensity.

“Even Cass?” You question, hoping to distract him from your compromised position.

“Ha, I guess Cass has come close.” He chuckles and allows the shadow to fall away from your face. He steps around in front of you again.

“Only Rhys has ever bested me in a fight of total darkness, but who would expect anything less from the High Lord of the Night Court.” He shrugs in acceptance.

“Well how about a heads up next time you bring shadows to a sword fight?” You bend down, scoop up your fallen sword and start to make your way to the weapons rack.

“Let me make it up to you, have drinks with me tonight?” He follows closely behind you.

“Like a date?” You ask. This was starting to drive you mad. Were they really so cruel as to torture you just for having a little crush. What you wouldn’t give to have either Illyrian be genuinely interested in you. Azriel had to be asking you out. If it was any other day it would just be a casual; Drinks tonight, you in? not the mystery riddled Have drinks with me tonight? in that low sultry tone of his.

“Why not?” He asks. You can feel him standing right behind you as you secure the training sword on the rack.

“I’m actually seeing someone, but thanks.” You parroted what you said to Cassian a couple of weeks ago. But it doesn’t have the same gusto, instead you can hear your own voice laced with defeat.

“Really? Because I don’t think you are. I think you’re lying.” He teases. Your back stiffens, you can sense that he’s still only a step behind you. Did he, did they, really think that no one could be genuinely interested in you? Of course he wasn’t wrong. It had been an age since your last real date but you hadn’t really made yourself available. Preferring to throw all your energy into your work, your training and your family.

You decided then you were going to do something that would probably be considered dangerous. But it was time you got back at Azriel for all the touches; from him, from his shadows, during training. You quickly turn around to face him before you lose your nerve.

“Sorry to burst your bubble then, obviously you're not the great spymaster you think you are.” You give him a smile and go to leave the training ring. As you step around him though, you intentionally don’t leave enough space, forcing your bare shoulder to brush against the warm leathery surface of his wing.

He growls, a low feral sound that rolls from deep in his chest and for a second you think you might not actually make it back into the house alive. You don’t stop walking though and you don’t look back as you head inside.

————————————————————————

The bedroom door slams back against the wall with a crack and Cassian freezes with a spoon halfway to his mouth.

“She should be fucking dead.” Azriel snarls as he strides into the room. Cassian wondered how it was going up in the training ring, had waited in Azriel’s room to find out and by the looks of the spymaster, not very well.

“Did she insult your shadows?” Cassian smirks, placing his bowel down and standing from the armchair. It wasn’t often that something or someone got Azriel this worked up. Cassian couldn’t wait to hear exactly what Y/N had said.

Azriel glares at him and then suddenly Y/N’s face is flashing down the bond. Cassian sees through Azriel’s memory how she secured her sword to the rack, turned and insulted Azriel’s skills as a Spymaster. Cassian chuckles, he’s going soft if he’s getting that worked up over that little comment. But then she brushes past him and he feels it like he’s actually there in the moment, she…

“Your wing?” Cassian stands gaping at him. Even though Y/N wasn’t Illyrian herself she knew how they were affected by their wings. She knew that outside of healing, and training to fly as a youngling, nobody touched an Illyrian’s wings except their most intimate partners.

Cassian ran a hand through his hair. “Well she’s not afraid to break the rules is she.”

“I almost broke something.” Azriel grumbled.

“I’m surprised you didn’t retaliate, you could have had her pinned, cowering on the floor in two seconds.” Cassian shrugged.

“Slight problem.” Azriel grimaces and motions to his hips. Cassian can now make out the bulge straining Azriel’s leathers. He doesn’t let Cassian respond as he storms for the bathroom. “Shower. Now.”

Cassian follows him into the bathroom and leans against the door, watching Azriel’s back as he practically tears his clothes off.

“You better be undressed by the time I turn around.” He says over his shoulder. Cassian rolls his eyes but starts striping down. Y/N really managed to get him in a mood.

“Roll your eyes again and see what happens.” Azriel growls and then steps into the shower, steam already filling the small room.

Azriel likes to be in control. And as much as Cassian likes to push his buttons, to force him to let go sometimes, he can’t help the small thrill that runs through him at the thought of his mate in his most dominant state.

He steps into the shower and Azriel has him pinned to the wall in an instant. Azriel’s mouth is on his, then on his throat sucking and nibbling and then he drops to Cassian’s chest swirling his tongue around his nipple. Cassian lets out a soft moan and drops his head back against the wall. His hips make an unintentional thrust, silently begging for Azriel's mouth elsewhere.

Azriel straightens, sliding a hand up Cassian's chest and wrapping it around his throat.

You’ll be good for me, won’t you Cas? Azriel’s dark voice whispers through Cassian's mind. One hand still wrapped around his neck the other trails down the broad muscles of his abs and grips his cock.

You’ll let me take you. Let me fill you and fuck you so hard you won’t be able to sit tomorrow?

For a second Cassian considers a snarky response but he sees the shadows swirling in Azriel’s eyes. He knows what Azriel wants from him. Not to be Cassian the battle worn warrior or Cassian the Illyrian General, but the Cassian who would drop to his knees and do anything for him. The Cassian that exists only for the Shadowsinger.

Yours Az. Cassian practically whimpers back. Always need you. Please.

Fuck Azriel’s barely touched him and he can hardly string a proper sentence together.

Good baby. Azriel practically purrs in his mind and then steps away from him. Instantly Cassian wants to reach for him, to feel Azriel’s body against his, but he resists.

Turn around, hands on the wall. Azriel commands him.

Cassian obeys. Placing both hands to the cool wall as warm water rushes down half his body.

He only just settles his stance when Azriel suddenly enters him with two fingers causing him to cry out in pleasure. He’s not given time to adjust as Azriel begins moving, stretching him.

That’s it, let me hear how much you like it baby.

Cassian bites his bottom lip attempting to stifle his moans. Azriel removes his fingers and Cassian whines at the loss of contact and starts to turn to face him.

I said hands on the wall. Azriel's sharp voice winds through his mind.

Cassian obeys, forcing his palms firmly into the wall and gritting his teeth. When it came to intimacy Azriel couldn’t be more different to Cassian. He was all about the pleasure of delayed gratification but Cassian wanted everything yesterday. He hears Azriel shifting behind him, he leans his forehead on the wall for balance as he drops a hand between his legs.

Hands. On. The. Wall. Azriel’s voice growls and Cassian quickly returns his hand.

Suddenly Azriel enters him in one swift motion, forcing Cassian’s hips to buck forward. He groans at the intrusion and tears prick at the corner of his eyes as Azriel begins quick thrusts.

Look at you. The Great Illyrian General becomes a whimpering mess when he’s getting fucked on my cock.

The instant fullness is almost too much, he feels his feet slip along the floor. But he’s surprised to find that Azriel isn’t there with a steadying hand. Now that he thinks of it, the only point of contact is Azriel’s length sliding in and out of him. He needs more, he always needs more.

“Oh god, please” Cassian moans “Please touch me, let me move.”

“It’s not the gods you should be begging to.” Azriel growls.

“Please Az…” Cassian begs. Azriel hasn’t paused his quick thrusts once and Cassian can barely string a sentence together. A dark chuckle enters Cassian's mind.

Oh no, what was it you said? “Now you get to cum untouched”. Memories from weeks ago flood his vision when he had Azriel flipped over on the bed. He should have known the bastard would take his revenge for that sooner or later.

When Azriel thrusts forward again he brings his body with him, forcing Cassian flat to the wall, trapping his wrists with his own hands. Cassian’s cock is aching for attention and being pressed between the wall and his body is enough to have him on the edge.

“That’s it baby, cum for me.” Azriel whispers into his ear and Cassian’s vision goes white with pleasure as he releases his load onto himself. Azriel is right behind him as Cassian’s ass squeezes him to his release. There’s a moment when the only sound is their heavy panting and then Azriel grips Cassian's shoulders and spins him around. Suddenly Azriel’s lips are on his.

So good baby, always so good for me. Azriel’s voice purrs in his mind.

For you Az. He replies. Too exhausted to open his eyes just yet. He feels a cloth being dragged along his front, cleaning him.

You’re okay? I didn’t hurt you? Concern and fear floods down the bond from Azriel. Even as one of their tamer love making sessions, Azriel is always worried he’s pushed too hard, taken things too far.

Give me some credit Az. He flicks his eyes open and meets the intense gaze of the shadowsinger. You know I’ll take whatever you give me. He lifts a hand to brush along the Illyrians' chin. And I’m more than okay.

————————————————————————

The next day Azriel has laid out his knife collection on the dining room table for polishing. You hate when he polishes weapons where they eat. He doesn’t want you to know how worked up he got about the wing incident yesterday and this is a perfectly indirect way of getting back at you. Of course Cassian is sitting at the end, swinging in his chair with his feet on the table, not wanting to miss a second of the inbound confrontation.

Azriel doesn’t need his shadows to alert him to your footfalls in the hall as you approach.

You let out a small huff and he smirks softly before raising his face to meet you.

“Good morning Y/N” Azriel greets you cheerily.

“Why are you polishing on the table again, Spymaster?” Your eyes narrow at him.

The use of his formal title spurs something inside of him. His retort is on the tip of his tongue when Mor waltzes in.

“Morning!” She announces to the room but strides to your side. “You ready to go?” She holds out a bent arm to you.

“Where are you going?” Azriel tilts his head slightly, caught off guard in his lack of knowledge. There was no indication until now that you had any plans today.

“You didn’t tell them?” Mor looks to you in surprise.

“It’s none of their business.” You smile softly at Mor but hope she catches the wicked glint in your eye that begs her to play along. Thankfully she doesn’t elaborate any further about today's plans.

“Well Windhaven awaits.” She offers you her arm once again and you take it. You both hurry from the room but not before you hear Azriel's quiet questioning,

“Windhaven?”

And the snap of Cassian’s chair returning to the ground.

“Why didn’t you tell them about visiting the female Illyrians?” Mor whispers as you descend the stairs of the House of Wind far enough to pass the wards that restrict winnowing.

“You know they’ll assume the worst, probably worse than the worst.” She giggles at the realisation.

“Good.” You exhale. “They’ve been getting on my last nerve, they deserve it.” You join in with her soft giggles before darkness consumes you both.

“Why is she going to Windhaven?” Azriel turns on Cassian.

“I don’t know you’re the Spymaster, you tell me.” He snaps back.

“I’ve not heard anything. Rhys hasn’t mentioned anything, surely he would send one of us if anything was required there.” Azriel stands and paces along the room.

“Then maybe she wasn’t sent.” Cassian slumps back in his chair and stares absently at the ground. Azriel freezes and spins on his heel.

“If she wasn’t sent, why would she go?” He slams scarred hands down on the dining table.

Cassian flicks his eyes up to Azriel, a look of defeat flashes across his face.

“She did say she was seeing someone.” Cassian murmurs and the room becomes frighteningly still.

“There’s absolutely no way she is seeing a fucking Illyrian.” Azriel stands to his full height, wings shooting wide as he stabs a finger at the doorway you had disappeared through.

Cassian stands and gestures down at himself. “Az, we’re Illyrians.”

“You know what I fucking mean Cass” He strides forward and grasps the war lords shoulders “These are our Windhaven Illyrians, theres no civilised courting, there’s barely civilised conversation. Whoever it is, is going to tear her apart.” He moves his right hand to rest on Cassian’s cheek, letting the panic show on his face and flow through the bond. They’re going to tear our Y/N apart.

Cassian's eyes widen in realisation and fear now flows freely from both ends of the bond. There’s no conversation then, just the scuff of knives being sheathed as they prepare to leave for Windhaven.

————————————————————————

You appear in the middle of the Illyrian war camp and immediately bundle your cloak closer. The wind and snow were so harsh here you don’t know how the Illyrians could stand it. Squinting against the wind you can make out the small cottage that was your refuge just down the path. You give Mor a small nod of thanks and hurry on your way.

Your task today was to try and convince more female Illyrians to step into the training ring. To convince them that even if their wings had been clipped, and they could no longer fly in the legions, it was still worth knowing how to defend themselves. Many of them across the camps were still concerned about backlash even though their High Lord had been personally seeing to anyone who went against his rulings.

You almost reach the corner of the building when you hear the jeers.

————————————————————————

Azriel winnows them onto a small rooftop of one of the dozen semi permanent buildings in Windhaven. They immediately spot Y/N hurrying down the road. They were only a few moments behind her and Mor, as they had the advantage of quickly flying through the ward barriers of the House of Wind before winnowing.

They duck low to remain out of sight and watch as Y/N almost makes it to the small cottage on the outskirts of the camp before the jeers ring out. A group of four Illyrians jostle each other as they make their way over to where she has halted.

Cassian clutches at the metal roof causing it to groan as a low growl rips from his throat.

“If they touch her I’ll carve their hearts out of their chests myself.” He snarls.

Azriel firmly grasps the back of Cassian’s leathers to stop him from taking off.

“Calm yourself, they might be who she is here to see.” Azriel hates that he has to admit it. But now that he is here, has eyes on her, he’s in his element. Lying in the shadows, watching, waiting, that was his forte. Unfortunately Cassian was more act first, ask questions later.

Y/N stands stiffly as laughs ring out from the group. She looks comfortable enough. Her arms relaxed at her side, a soft smile on her lips. But in a moment everything shifts. The male at the front of the group reaches for her and she twists, drawing a blade in the same moment.

Azriel releases his grip on Cassian and launches for the group drawing weapons at the end of the road. He doesn’t know if Cassian has even left the rooftop yet as his fist collides with a stubbled face.

————————————————————————

You twist around, shove a small blade into the side of the Illyrian who lunged at you and stomp a heel into the back of his knee, causing him to fall forward. You catch the blur of another pair of black wings and your heart freezes for a moment. Four young, barely trained Illyrians you had a chance against, but another larger Illyrian joining the fray slashed your chances drastically. You almost fall to your knees when the glint of blue sirens catches the sun. Azriel was here, you don’t know how, but he was here. Suddenly the Illyrian at your feet is ripped from the ground and tossed down the path. Cassian stands in his place.

He reaches tentatively to your face as his eyes scan you widely.

“Are you okay? Did he hurt you?” He growls. You blink at him in surprise before replying.

“No, I’m fine.” You confess as Azriel expertly takes down the Illyrians that have turned on him. Cassian’s red siren’s are flaring, his chest heaving in deep breaths and you recognise the panic in his eyes. The panic for you.

“Cassian. I’m okay. You’re here with me.” You reassure him. He begins to relax and gives you a short nod.

“CASS!” Azriel bellows as the last of the group charges directly towards you. Cassian shoves you back and takes the brunt of the hit. Sending both Illyrians crashing through the wall of the cabin.

Suddenly a loud crack rings out across the camp and you swear time slows ever so slightly as Rhysand steps out of the darkness. His deep violet eyes hold none of their usual sparkle. He takes only a moment to assess the situation and strides towards you. He gently takes up your hand like he’s done many times before and nods once to Azriel as darkness consumes your vision.

You land softly on the plush carpet of Rhysand’s study. Seconds later Azriel appears with Cassian.

“Care to explain why I’m about to pay for repairs in Windhaven?” The cool stare of the Night Court’s High Lord falls upon his Illyrian brothers.

Azriel’s wings flare in challenge but you step forward before he can get out his first word.

“Actually, that might be my fault. I got into a little… altercation with some of the Illyrian trainees.” You play down how dangerous the situation really could have become.

“Little?” Cassian questioned. “It was four against one, you were lucky we were there!”

“I had it under control!” You ball your hands into fists at your side. “And why were you even there?”

But it’s Rhysand who replies first. “You went alone?”

You lock eyes with him for a moment, before turning away. You didn’t feel like trying to explain how hurt you had been by Azriel and Cassian’s games lately, that you had just wanted to get a little space. It felt like they were laughing at your poor love life at every turn and just for a moment you wanted them to assume you may have had a suitor. Even in a place like Windhaven.

“You sent her?” Cassian takes a half step forward.

Rhysand’s eyes flick quickly between the three of you. “I need to get back, make an example of these trainees to assure this doesn’t happen again and repair yet another building.” His gaze settles on Cassian. “You three stay here until you figure this out.” He’s gone by the time you turn around.

————————————————————————

“What were you doing in Windhaven?” Azriel folds his arms across his broad chest and leans against the wall.

“Why were you tailing me?” You answer with a question of your own.

“We thought…” Cassian shifts his weight uneasily “We thought you might be meeting with someone who wasn’t… safe for you.”

“Safe for me?” You could feel your blood begin to boil. First the games, now they want to directly meddle in your love life too?

“They’re Illyrians Y/N! They don’t care about you! You're seriously delusional if you think anyone in that camp is worth your time!” Cassian furiously points back towards the mountains outside the study window.

“Right because Illyrian brutes are only good for fighting and fucking!” You throw back at him. Azriel narrows his eyes understanding the insult that was just thrown at them.

“That camp is full of dangerous males! They’d love nothing more than to discard of you when they’re done! If you’re seeing one of them, it's over.” Cassian growls and you see red.

“You don’t get to tell me who I can and can’t see!” You storm towards him and jab a finger into his chest.

“So you are seeing one of them!” He steps back and throws his arms up. You turn on your heel, heading for the door ready to be done with this conversation for good.

“What does it concern you if I see an Illyrian?” You snarl as you head back towards the door.

“Because it’s not us!” Cassian chokes out and the room immediately stills.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Cassian’s thoughts rush down the bond. The fear of his confession mingled with the fear that he’s messed things up with Azriel. That he’ll lose two of the most important people in his life in one fell swoop.

Never. Relax. Azriel tries to soothe him but his heart is also racing out of his chest. Cassian’s confession may as well have been his own. The reason he couldn’t stand to think of Y/N with an Illyrian, or any male for that matter, was because it wasn’t him.

“I’m done with these games.” Tears threaten to prick your eyes but you fight them back. Your heart feels like it’s shattering. You glance over your shoulder, afraid that tears will begin to fall if you turn to face them completely.

“Just because the two of you are happy together,” You see the surprise ripple through them “Doesn’t mean you get to mess with me for fun.” Your bottom lip begins to tremble but you lift your chin in defiance.

“I’m packing my stuff. I’m going to go stay with Mor for a bit, just… leave me alone.” You sign and reach for the door handle.

————————————————————————

As you begin to pull the door open Azriel can feel his heart crack and splinter. The pain and sadness that they have caused you struggles to consume his chest and he doesn’t fight it. He lets it wash over him.

“No.” he gasps, squeezing his eyes closed against the sharp pain that rips through him. As he blinks them open he notices Cassian has stumbled to Rhysands desk doubled over in pain. But when he looks across at you standing in the doorway he sees it. A golden thread splits away from you, towards them both. Glowing just as bright as the one that connects him to the Illyrian warrior.

You stand frozen and wide eyed across from him.

Y/N Azriel takes a tentative step forward, testing the connection down the bond. Cassian straightens but remains silent.

I don’t understand. You blink back and forth between them. You two are…

We are. We have been mates for centuries. Azriel explains as he moves closer.

We can’t lose her Az. I can’t… Cassian’s voice waivers in the back of his mind.

I know. Azriel agrees. You drop your gaze to the floor, trying to unravel this mess, unaware of their private conversation.

Sweetheart, we never meant to hurt you. We were competing for your attention for our own gain and I’m sorry. We never thought for a second that it was the chaffing of a mating bond. I never thought the Cauldron would find me worthy enough of a second bond, they are so rare. Especially with you. I’m so sorry Y/N. If you let me, us, we’ll spend the rest of our lives making it up to you. Azriel confesses everything he has as he stands before you. He feels like he just placed his heart in the palm of your hand and is waiting for you to crush it between your fingers as you remain with your head down.

The Cauldron has blessed you with a mate after all… two mates. Males that you have been through so many ups and downs with during these last few years. And surely those years could trump the last few weeks of misunderstandings?

Okay. You lift your eyes to his as tears begin to spill over.

Azriel envelopes you first in his arms and then his wings. It wasn’t the confession he gave you but by the Mother he would take it. He meant what he said. He would do anything to mend what they had broken before they even knew they had it.

————————————————————————

Azriel winnowed you and Cassian back above the House of Wind. The three of you spent the rest of the day and evening discussing what had happened over the last couple of weeks. You confessed how you knew about their relationship. They confessed to their bet. They apologised over and over again. You confessed to catching on to their games early on.

“So you were never actually seeing anyone?”

“No, I haven't even been on a date since before the war.” You laugh and shake your head a little. A wave of jealously rolls down the bond and your eyes flick to meet Cassian’s.

You’d forgotten, for just a moment, about the mating bond. Well mating bonds. Lounging in the sitting room of the House of Wind with Cassian and Azriel felt like any other evening. The same usual banter flowed between you, but now when you took in their breathtaking smiles and low rumbling laughs there was no guilt to chase down your thoughts. You took in Cassian’s leathery wings stretched wide behind his low backed chair. You slide your eyes over his broad shoulders and the corded muscles of his exposed arms, landing on those Illyrian tattoos that you followed in the kitchen all those weeks ago, realising you might get the opportunity to finally follow their full trail across his skin.

Sweetheart Azriel shifts in his seat as his purring voice enters your mind. You might want to work on putting some shields in place. Your focus is pulled back then and you realise Cassian is gripping the armrests of his chair, his chest heaving in deep breaths, pupils blown wide with arousal as he pulls up the side of his mouth in a smirk.

Don’t listen to him baby. He’s just jealous. I was quite enjoying the appraisal. You blink in surprise as Cassian’s gruff voice enters your mind, startled to find that communication could flow openly between the three of you. That would be something you would have to delve into more later. Right now you could only focus on the Illyrian war lord across from you who had hunger rolling off him like a man who hadn’t eaten in months.

At Cassian’s words you realise you haven’t felt anything from Azriel’s side of the bond. Ever the cool, calm and collected one he was probably shielding everything from you right now and you found that it rubbed you the wrong way. You let your eyes fall on the Shadowsinger then, determined to have him drop his walls for you.

His deep black wings rise and fall behind him as he notices your attention. Your eyes trace along the top of his right wing until your attention falls to his throat, the way his adam's apple bobs has you swallowing dryly. You imagine placing your lips to the skin there and a shiver rolls through you. A shadow slides over his shoulder and curls low around his neck, almost vying for attention. You imagine what it would be like to not only have calloused hands pawing at you but smooth shadows as well and that’s when he snaps. His wall drops and his arousal twists and mingles with Cassian’s down the bond.

I thought you might be… opposed to my shadows in that scenario. He admits quietly. But having the bond so open you could easily read between the lines. He thought you might have been afraid of them. Of him.

You don’t scare me, Shadowsinger. You let admiration flow through the bond along with your words. In a blink of an eye Azriel is crowded over you, arms braced on the sides of your chair.

Really? He smirks down at you in challenge. It takes you one breath to recover from his sudden appearance, then you lean forward and place your lips to his neck in a featherlight kiss.

He groans and leans heavier into his arms.

Y/N we want to do this right. The normal way. Take you on those dates we asked you on. Cassian pleads with you. Interesting that when one loses their restraint the other finds it. You wonder if that's the bond at play or if that's just how Cassian and Azriel have always been.

Which part of this has been normal so far? You question as you send memories to both of them down the bond. Flashes of Cassian flirting in the kitchen and Azriel’s lingering touches during training. You also add some moments they’d never seen before; your lingering eyes catching on straining muscles as they spar shirtless in the training ring and the moment shadows led you to the sounds of them together, arousal shooting through you.

The world shifts beneath you then as Azriel lifts you from your chair. You wrap your legs around his waist and then his lips are on yours. There’s no delicacy to the kiss, it’s forceful, bruising, claiming. Soft sheets meet your back and you open your eyes to find Azriel has laid you down in his bed. His mouth moves to your neck, trailing kisses down to your chest before rising off the mattress. Shadows begin to swirl up your arms, replacing the touch of their master, as if he couldn’t bear to let you go for even a second. He turns to Cassian who has taken up residence leaning against the doorway.

“Nice of you to remember that I exist.” Cassian smirks at him. Any guilt you would have felt is quelled as you notice some of Azriel’s shadows linger around the Illyrians wrists and collarbone. Azriel strides across the room and grips the back of his neck.

“As if you’d ever let me forget.” Azriel whispers against his lips and kisses him. The kiss is gentle at first and you can’t help but feel the happiness that radiates from them. You’ve never seen them so open, relaxed and just… them.

Cassian is the first to push it further. Their lips still connected he shoves Azriel back into the room and kicks the door closed with his heel. There are hands in hair, gripping hips, mouths tugging on bottom lips and a soft whine escapes you as you watch your two favourite Illyrians devouring each other. Suddenly two pairs of dark eyes are on you.

Don’t worry baby, we haven't forgotten about you. Cassian's voice enters your mind as he moves towards the bed. He reaches back and pulls his shirt over his head, then climbs over you. He leans down and captures your mouth with his, taking his time to savour the moment. Then he spins, pulling you above him and props you up so you straddle his lap.

Wasn’t there some tracing you needed to do? He grins broadley up at you. You flush slightly at his reference to your errant imaginings but take in the swirls of Illyrian tattoos that wrap around thick muscles. You feel Cassian stiffen and then relax with a sigh as your tongue meets tanned skin. You trail across his shoulder, down his broad chest, pausing only to flick your tongue over a stiff nipple. He bucks up into you with a small moan. You continue down past chiselled abs as you move further down the bed finally reaching the line of muscle that disappears behind his waistband.

He watches you carefully as you begin to untie his pants. Finally you free him, curling your fingers around the velvet wrapped length. Suddenly a memory is forced into your vision. Cassian’s view in the kitchen, watching you devour strawberries dipped in cream. His focus is singular as he watches your tongue swipe up through the cream.

The room comes back to you and you smirk up at him laid back against the headboard before dipping your head down and running your tongue up the underside of him and flicking at his head.

Fuucckkk his moan reverberates in your mind as he throws his head back on the pillow. I’ve been imaging that for weeks and nothing even came close.

His reaction spurs you on and you get to work sucking him into your mouth, exploring with your tongue. You experiment with how deep you can take him and allow your hand to cover any part of the shaft that's not in your mouth. He continues to make small noises as the bed dips beside you. You look up to find Azriel already undressed, Cassian leaves your mouth with a small pop as your mouth falls open.

Oh please, he already knows he’s pretty. We’ll never hear the end of it now. Cassian teases.

Azriel leans forward and grips your chin gently forcing you to sit up.

As much as I was enjoying the show sweetheart, you are wearing far too many clothes. His hand trails down your front and rests at the hem of your shirt.

May I? He cocks his head in question. You nod silently, all words lost to you as your brain swims with arousal.

Words baby. Cassian props himself onto his elbows. There’s so much we want to do with you but we need to know you want it too.

Your eyes flick between Cassian and Azriel. Again surprised to find that Cassian was the one with more control. In the ring, on the battlefield, on a mission, it had always been the other way around. You pull your shirt over your head and reach back, releasing your bra, letting it fall into your lap.

I always thought actions spoke louder than words. You finally reply.

There’s my girl. Cassian reaches out, gripping around your hip, pulling you on top of him once again. And don’t worry, you’ll find out soon enough why I’m left in control here. I don’t want to release Azriel onto you just yet. A shiver runs down your spine at the promise behind the words.

Azriel lets out a soft growl behind you as Cassian finds your lips. Suddenly there are hands everywhere. Cassian paws at your chest and rolls your nipple between his fingers, swallowing your moans in his mouth. Azriel positions himself behind you, quickly removing the rest of your clothes with a moan.

So fucking pretty. He runs a calloused hand up your inner thigh and you flush at the image he must be seeing of you bent over Cassian. His fingers run through your folds and settle on the bundle of nerves. You can only focus on not collapsing on top of Cassian under the assault of both Illyrians.

Azriel shuffles behind you and you feel his tongue flick against you and then swirl around you. He gently explores with his fingers, slipping a finger inside you as Cassian begins sucking marks on to your neck, your chest, anywhere his mouth can reach.

As quickly as Azriel’s tongue was on you, it vanishes and it's when Cassian knits his eyebrows together you realise, Azriel is using his mouth to pleasure you both.

While Cassian is briefly distracted you take the opportunity to return some of the marks to his own neck. Azriel then changes tactics and rubs Cassian’s head, slick with precum, against your clit as he adds another finger to the first, stretching you open as he pumps them in and out.

Please. You whine, already so close to the edge. Need you.

Azriel wastes no time as he sits up and lines Cassian up with your entrance. You slowly sink backwards feelling Cassian stretch you open until you sit flush over his hips.

Ride me baby girl, I’m all yours. Cassian purrs and you begin to bounce on top of him. Soft moans escape his lips as you move and you feel like you're glowing from your ability to bring him so much pleasure.

You lean over him, deepening the angle when the room darkens. Azriel leans over you both and whispers in your ear.

“Do you trust me?” His breath tickles your skin.

“Yes” You moan as Cassian slides deep into you again.

Azriel grips your hips and stops your movement as Cassian's length slides out of you, his head hovering at your entrance. Azriel enters you with a snap of his hips. You were glad you were stretched already as you take his large thick length in one quick thrust. He pulls out still holding you steady as he allows Cassian to buck up and enter you again.

They find a rhythm so quickly that you think must only come from being connected for so many centuries. You moan and whimper into the space between Cassian’s shoulder and neck. It feels like there isn’t a moment when you aren’t filled by either of them as they both fuck you hard and fast.

Cassian reaches up and pulls you away from his body so you hover above him.

Want to hear you baby. Want to see you as we make you fall apart. Come for me Y/N.

Your body obeys without you even thinking as you clench around them as they continue to enter you over and over again. When you’ve ridden your high, Azriel backs away enough for Cassian to pump into you a few more times before finishing himself, seated deep inside you.

There’s a few moments to catch your breath as you sit up and then Azriel is back, one hand your hip the other softly wrapping around your neck.

Do you have another one for us sweetheart? For me? The deep rumble of his voice raises the hairs on the back of your neck.

Always. You whimper as his hands trace circles across your sensitive skin. He pulls you off Cassian and leans you back against his chest as he kneels on the mattress. He lifts you to enter you from behind again-

No Azriel freezes as soon as the thought enters your mind. You panic realising he thinks you want him to stop. No, Azriel. You lean your head back on his shoulder to meet his eyes. I want to see you, want to touch you.

Azriel’s eyes soften and he lays you on the bed next to Cassian.

Both so pretty. He murmurs as he lines himself up with you, appreciating the view of you and Cassian laid out before him. And mine. A darkness swirls in his eyes at the claiming and a thrill runs through you. Cassian trails his fingers up your thigh as Azriel enters you.

His thrusts are quick and hard. You let your hands explore up his stomach, across his chest and down his arms as sets an unrelenting pace. It isn’t long before you’re on the edge again but Azriel doesn’t give any indication that he’s anywhere near finished with you.

You drove him near mad that day after training. Cassian whispers into your mind. He’s sensitive to touch, I’ll show you where it affects him the most.

Cassian settles in the back of your mind then and gently instructs you to reach out for his wings. You do as he says and brush a hand along the inside of the warm membrane. A growl rumbles through Azriels chest as he tips his head back. You continue to follow Cassian’s detailed instructions learning the places that pull moans from Azriel’s lips.

A few moments later, Azriel is practically painting above you, pupils blown wide as his hips continue to snap into you. You feel your own tension building alongside his own.

Go with him, baby girl. Cassian purrs as he reaches down and presses firmly on your over sensitive clit. You see white behind your eyes as you finish for the second time tonight.

————————————————————————

You're curled between two Illyrian bodies as only the sounds of soft breathing fill the air. You’ve never felt more safe or more satisfied for that matter. You wonder how things are going to be from now on. Whether your bond will remain a secret like theirs has. Laying on your side, you take in Azriel’s sleeping form and wonder what Cassian meant about ‘releasing Azriel’ onto you. Your pulse quickens, imagining all the things the three of you could get up to together. Cassian’s hand tightens on your hip from behind you as Azriel blinks open his eyes. You flush, clearly they weren’t as asleep as you thought.

Cassian leans in to whisper at your ear.

“Firstly, I’m glad you feel both safe and satisfied because that’s what we’re here for.” His nose brushes along your neck. “Secondly, we’ll figure out the bond together. Nothing will be decided without you.”

Azriel leans forward and whispers against your lips. “Thirdly, you’ll learn soon enough what happens when I get to play my way.” He kisses you softly and Cassian trails kisses down your spine. You know for certain the first thing you're going to do is learn how to block these two from your mind.

#cazriel #cazriel x reader #acotar fic #cassian x reader #azriel x reader #cassian x azriel

222 notes · View notes

claypigeonpottery · 12 hours

Note

I'd love to hear you expand on your thoughts about gender and deer antlers and also introduce the aspect of caribou antlers to the conversation. Both males and females have antlers but the males drop them in the winter because of the weight while the females keep theirs until the new set pushes the old set out.

I have a lot of thoughts and none of them really go anywhere but I’m happy to expand

it’s funny, I was thinking about caribou while I was making this brown clay deer-person. I didn’t want the antler to read as caribou, it was more just turning thoughts around in my head

I imagine if we had antlers, culturally it would be considered masculine (likely even for those—like caribou—where everyone can grow antlers and shed them at different times).

it made me think about gender being seasonal, with the growing and shedding of antlers.

it made me think about how tender and sensitive antlers are when they first grow in, covered in velvet. is it like menstruation, a gender-specific thing that’s painful or uncomfortable for awhile?

it made me think about losing an antler accidentally, or removing them. or only removing one. or just cutting off a few tines. what would it signify? how would it feel?

do queer deer (lol) notice each other because of how their antlers look, recognize each other as queer?

would a doe feel relieved when it’s time to shed her antlers? would she dread growing new ones? would a buck, any buck, feel dysphoric, feel a loss, when he sheds his?

I don’t know, I’ve just been having the gender recently. so obviously I had to pass that feeling on to my little sculptural creatures

#ask #asks #menstruation #menstruation mention #dysphoria mention #trans thoughts #queer deer #trans #queer #little dudes #sculpture

239 notes · View notes

idleoblivion · 3 days

Text

"You Don't Want to See Me Like This" - Vil Schoenheit x GN Reader

Synopsis: You were spiraling and you knew it, skipping classes, not taking care of yourself and ignoring your friends in favor of rotting in bed. You didn’t want anybody to see you in this state, least of all your perfect boyfriend.

Word Count: ~1k

A/N: Crazy how fast I go from writing smut to comfort fics lol. First time writing Vil sorry if he's ooc.

Warnings: Vague description of poor mental health, he comforts you

The first knocks on your door you ignore entirely, not moving an inch from your position curled up under your blankets. The second time, you do move, but only to check your phone for any messages from Ace or Deuce saying they were coming. They had been the most adamant about trying to reach you, with Ace sending you sarcastic messages and memes to get your attention while Deuce opted for more genuine “Hey, it’s been a minute, you alright?” and “I hope you feel better soon!” texts. You loved them, truly you did, but you were in no mood to talk to them. You couldn’t remember how many days it’s been since you’ve seen them in person.

The third knocks are louder and impatient. You sigh and close your eyes again. As you're preparing to reach for the earbuds on your nightstand to tune them out, the voice you hear from the other side of the door stops you in your tracks.

“I know you can hear me, potato. And you know I don’t appreciate being ignored.”

Your eyes shoot open again. You weren’t expecting him at all.

It’s not like you thought Vil wouldn’t notice. He was always very attuned to what you were feeling, it was something you loved about him. Somehow you had gotten lucky, with his schedule apparently being even busier than usual you had managed to evade him. But he was here now, and clearly not happy. You know he cares dearly for you, but still you didn’t know how to talk to him about everything going on in your head right now. Not when he seemed to handle every problem he had with ease, while you were just wallowing in your misery. Not when he was this emblem of beauty and grace, not when he wouldn’t be caught dead looking like you did right now.

You sit up and turn your head to look at yourself in the mirror. You haven’t showered or brushed your hair and it shows. The circles under your eyes are darker than you’ve ever seen them. You had been completely neglecting the skin care routine Vil picked out especially for you for several days, and you were sure he would be able to tell.

“Vil…I’m alright, I just don’t feel well. I’m tired, and I’m trying to rest.”

“According to your friends, it’s been nearly two weeks that you haven’t been feeling well. Either you’re lying to me, or you need to go to the infirmary this instant.” You could picture the frown on his face and crease in his brow just from his tone.

You don’t answer him. You silently curse Ace and Deuce for getting him involved, wishing your bed would just swallow you whole so you could avoid this conversation. He stays quiet too for a moment. You hear him sigh before he continues.

“I…I’m not trying to patronize you. Please just let me in, I need to see you.” His voice turns almost pleading at the end, surprising you. He never pleaded or begged for anything.

“You don’t want to see me like this, Vil.” Your resolve was weakening hearing how worried he actually sounded, but you were still so ashamed of your current appearance. What would he think if he saw you? Would he feel pity, maybe even disgust? You didn’t want either of those reactions from him.

“You can’t say that. You can’t tell me how or when I want to see you.”

Another minute or two of silence passes, and you realize he really isn’t going anywhere. You drag yourself up out of bed and to your door and hesitantly unlock it. You walk back to your bed and plop down again before saying “Come in.”

He opens the door gently, eyes immediately fixated on you. He takes in your disheveled self and looks around your room for a moment too. You hadn’t even realized how messy it was until he was looking around, laundry and other junk left lying out in the open. Another wave of shame washed over you.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry-” You start to choke up as you put your head in your hands, but he interrupts you.

“No, I’m sorry. I’m the one who needs to apologize.” You look back up at him confused. He’s looking at you, but you don’t feel the judgment in his gaze you were anticipating. He’s looking at you gently, fondly even, and that alone nearly makes you cry.

“I’ve been preoccupied with the production the Film Studies club is working on, and I seem to have neglected something much more important." He approaches you and offers you his hand, which you take. He holds your hand tenderly and continues. “It’s my duty to notice things like this, and I’ve let this go on too long already. What can I do for you, love? What can I do to help?”

The tears that had been welling up finally start falling, and he brings his other hand to cradle your face lovingly. You stay like that together for a few moments, with you crying and him just holding you.

Through sniffles, you tell him “I don’t know. I want to feel better, but I don’t, I don’t know I just-” you cut yourself off with another sob. He nods his head like he understands. He seems to stop and process an idea before he stands up.

“Well, looking better may help you feel better. Come with me, back to Pomefiore. Bring some pajamas, we’ll run you a bath and have a self care night together. I’ve got some new products I’ve been wanting to test that we can try out.” He smiles at you and beckons for you to stand with him. You do, and nod at him as you try to calm yourself down more. “Y-yeah, that might be nice.” You hold your arms out, asking for a hug and he obliges immediately.

He holds you tightly before speaking to you softly. “You don’t need to keep things from me, you know. I’d much rather hear about how you’re doing from you than those other potatoes.” You let out a small laugh, which makes him grin. “Can you promise you’ll come to me next time?”

“Okay, I promise. Especially if it gets you to spoil me like this.”

“It’s not spoiling, love. It’s just what you deserve.” He kisses your forehead before you walk out of your room together, still holding his hand.

#twisted wonderland x reader #twst #twst x reader #disney twst #vil schoenheit #vil schoenheit x reader #vil x reader #vil twst #twisted wonderland #twst x gn reader #twst fluff

182 notes · View notes

sainns · 2 days

Text

8:30PM ㅤ⊹ㅤ park sunghoon

gnreader ( fluff drabble ) content. love at first sight, college au, reader is younger than sunghoon, reader is his first love i reckon word count. 451ㅤ𖹭ㅤ 🗒

love wasn’t something that sunghoon was focused on. he preferred to focus on other things; his family and friends, figure skating, his school work. sure, he’s had crushes before, but that’s all they were, he didn’t want or need anything to come out of it.

finding someone to love wasn’t a priority of his, he didn’t feel left out or jealous when his friends started dating. he was just happy for them, happy that they had found someone to make them happy. sunghoon didn’t need that, though, he was perfectly content with his single life.

until he saw you.

it was on a tuesday, he knows because he was standing in front of the building that held his biology class which he was dreading going to (he hadn’t done the homework yet). he had been debating on skipping class, just having turned around to walk away when he noticed you.

you were walking with a friend of yours, your arms linked together as you both laughed about something. you were too far away for him to hear it, but he wished he wasn’t. that was the first time he wanted to hear someone’s laugh—he needed to hear it. he was sure that your laugh alone could make his entire body feel lighter. he felt his face heat up and he turned away, cringing at his own thoughts about someone he doesn’t even know.

he didn’t see you for a while after that, but he didn’t forget about you. how could he? you were the most beautiful person he’s ever laid eyes on, even if it was for a few short seconds.

imagine his surprise (and happiness) when you walk into the broadcasting club room, your eyebrows knitted in confusion as you checked the door to make sure you were in the right place. you seem more awkward than he remembers, maybe it’s because you were without the comfortability of being with your friend.

“hi, you’re here for the broadcasting club?”

you look towards him in surprise before smiling brightly, he really likes your smile, “oh! yeah, i am.. um, this is the right place then?”

he nods, “it is,” he tilts his head, smiling back at you, “i’m sunghoon, by the way, i’m the vice president,”

“i’m yn,” you hum, glancing around the room, “what’re you majoring in?”

sunghoon replays your five minute conversation for the next week; it was mostly small talk until they started the orientation for the freshman but still, he swears he was red the entire time you were talking. and he’s 100% certain that his face is on fire and that he looks like a middle schooler when, the following week, you ask for his number.

#ㅤ⠀ ૮꒰ ˊᗜˋ ꒱ა ♡ ㅤ⠀#sunghoon x reader #enhypen x reader #sunghoon x you #sunghoon x y/n #park sunghoon x reader #sunghoon fluff #sunghoon headcanons #sunghoon drabbles #enhypen fluff #enhypen scenarios #park sunghoon x you #park sunghoon x y/n #park sunghoon fluff #sunghoon imagines #park sunghoon imagines

225 notes · View notes

green-typewriterz · 3 days

Text

Are You looking?

Art Donaldson x fem!reader

Ask: none

summary: the reader isn’t watching, and Art needs her to look. He needs to be near

Warnings: 2000s outfits, language, cringe if your easily embarrassed, kinda toxic but it’s challengers what do you expect

Words: 2066

Art was sitting on the side of the court, hands fiddling with the strings of his racket. He had been trying to get this same drill right for the past twenty minutes and had yet to succeed. You stared at him, smiling to yourself at how red his face got when he was annoyed. “I’m never gonna get this right.” He said, almost to himself.

You nodded and he looked over, irritated as you spoke, “maybe.” He stood, gripping his racket tight in his hand and went to walk away. “Go on.” You continued, “do what you think you want to.” Your voice was calm, face still and mocking. He stopped in place, still not facing you.

”Do you always treat people like this?” He asked, turning to face you now. You shrugged, not really offering a proper reply. Your eyes flitted toward the court then back to him. He sighed and moved toward the centre of the court, running the movement again.

The movements were much more fluid this time, the racket swishing easily and quickly through the air, but he wasn’t concentrating. Every so often, his gaze would flicker to you, he wanted to know that you were watching. You leaned back in your chair, a habit you picked up when watching Art play and stared upward, no longer focusing on his practice - something you knew he’d notice.

His movements faltered as he saw you look away, nearly stumbling over his feet. He groaned in annoyance and shook out his arms, going to try again, though he was more so trying to get your attention than get the drill right “Again.” You spoke, voice tired, you looked back at him for a moment, but only up until he started the drill.

He tripped up again, eyes drawing away from the footwork he was meant to be practising. Art’s focus is entirely on you, grip on his racket tightening. It was misstep after misstep at this point, something you had grown tired of. “Ok stop. You’re done.” He stops, sighing tiredly and turning to face you. How could you even know he had messed up, you weren’t even watching.

Without another word, you stood and walked away, leaving Art standing irritated in the middle of the court. He didn’t stay still long however and, after a moment of watching after you, followed. He stayed behind slightly, eye’s following your every move. You leaned against your car, pushing your hair away from your face gently.

”I can feel you lurking.” You said, continuing the same calm tone. It was almost eerie. His eyes were drinking you in, lingering on how your hip rested against the car, how the light created shimmers on your skin.

Art walked over, stopping just in front of you. “You heard me?” He asked, face lifting into a small smirk. He leaned on the car beside you, thinking about how it would feel to be near you. You got closer to him, eyes lingering on his lips for a moment.

”I’m not deaf.” You inched closer again, almost touching. His breath was hot against your face. “You don’t like control do you?” You asked, tone snake-like. You were winding your way around him, hands inches away.

Art stared into your eyes, trying his hardest not to fall into you. “I’m fine with control. I just prefer…others to be in it.” He said, so softly it could’ve been a whisper. You nodded, as if processing something important and leaned forward, lips centimetres from his neck.

With a spare hand you grabbed his waist, pulling him into you. “Happy?” You whispered. He nodded, eyes closed. But before he could get what he wanted, you pulled away again.

His eyes opened, confusion littering his gaze. He almost looked like a lost puppy. “Patience.” It was one word, but it sent a shiver through him. He didn’t have time for patience.

Art sighed, voice filled with yearning as he replied with a quiet, “please.” You smiled, moving further away now and opening your car door.

He was stuck in place, not knowing how to react and instead simply stared at you. You turned on the ignition, muttering another, “Patience.” You didn’t wait for his reply.

——

You played your matches with fury, screaming at your opponent far too often - something that had become a trademark of yours (which you had surprisingly never been written up for). Art watched the match, or rather watched you under the pretence of watching the match. He watched how you got close to your opponent, whispering something that made her face pale. Art found himself growing jealous, the way your figure moved was almost intoxicating.

The weather beat down as you continued to play, skin shining in the endless heat. The match reached half-time and you sighed in annoyance, walking over to the side of the court and arguing with your coach. Art tried to catch your eye from his place in the stands but you didn’t take any notice, instead turning to your water bottle and pouring it over your face. The water fell over your features in almost slow motion to Art, the droplets clinging to your skin and sticking your white tennis shirt to your body.

You met his eyes, anger and annoyance evident in your gaze and turned away, heading toward the centre of the court again. You wanted to get this match done. Each shot seemed to grow with intensity and, while fatigue picked at your opponent, the longer the match went on, the better you played - maybe it was the adrenaline.

The match was called and cheers erupted from the sidelines when you won, a proud smile on your face as you walked over to take the trophy. Now seemingly the face of niceties, you shook your opponent's hand, wishing her luck on her next games and walked off the court, heading back toward your dorm to get changed and celebrate. Art’s brows furrowed as he followed after you.

He caught up, seemingly trailing like some sort of lost puppy. “Where are we going?” He asked, voice lilting with confusion. You stopped, turning to meet his eyes as you ran your hand through your hair.

“I’m home, then to a bar. You can do whatever you want, Art.” You replied calmly, crossing your arms as he stared back in some sort of pleading. He seemed downtrodden, eyes dropping to the floor for a moment until he walked closer, seemingly begging.

His voice was quiet as he spoke, “You’re not staying for my match?” He wanted you to see him play, to potentially see him win. There was something about you that made Art crave your attention - he needed to know you saw him.

There was silence, nothing but the hum of a crowd and the hot sun. Then, “I’ll see you after.” Art had been given the chance to reply, but he didn’t take it and so another silence cut through the conversation in an isolating way. He watched you walk off, uncaring and victorious.

—

The bar was thick with noise, bodies pressed against another moving to harsh music and air damp with the smell of cheap alcohol - it was a preferred place of the Stanford students. You sat at the bar, head leaning on your palm as you spoke idly with the bartender. You had switched out your tennis clothes for a darker ensemble, specifically a shining leather skirt with a white tank top and the most aggressive stilettos you could find. God bless 2000s fashion.

Art had walked in a few moments ago, spotting you almost instantly in the crowd of people. As he passed by endless bodies to get to you hands reached out in congratulation - he had won his match. He sat beside you, knowing he’d have to be the one to start the conversation. “I won my match.”

You looked up, meeting his gaze. “I heard.” That was it, that was all you said…though it seemed to mean something to Art - a message you had gotten across. You had been talking about him and, by the drink that was just placed in front of him, you had been waiting for him too. “You weren't…distracted?” you asked now, a small smirk building on your face, twisting your glittering lips.

Art seemed confused, then he thought back to your practice sessions, you hadn’t been watching when he needed you to and you weren’t there when he wanted you to be. “It did weigh on my mind, your absence. Though clearly I didn’t let it get to me.” (this was a lie).

A smile graced your features and you leaned forward, “I’m touched you were thinking of me.” it was a whisper, a soft breath that smelled like passion fruit cocktails. His eyes fluttered - very much involuntarily - and he smiled back, his hand gliding over the rim of his cocktail glass.

He felt almost confident now, his smile matching yours in something that could only be described as want. You couldn’t ignore the prettiness of the image, how his blonde hair fell in small curls, the amber part of his eye that drew you to his gaze, the amused look that graced his blushed lips. Maybe it was why you made the decision when you did.

You stood, walking away with a sure smile on your face. Art stood, suddenly much less confident (though still smiling) and you spun on your heel, eyes meeting him instantly. “Come on.” That seemed to be all it took and he followed you, eventually speeding up to walk by your side as you walked back to your dorm room.

It was odd how quiet the night seemed in comparison to the bar. Usually there were immature college students everywhere, getting drunk under trees or thinking they were football stars when they were just drunk (something neither of you were).

The quiet continued into the dorm block, the whole campus seemed to be in the bar, celebrating your wins. The air was still humid from the summer sun and as soon as you reached your room, the windows were swung wide, allowing any residual noise from the bar to seep through into your bedroom.

This was how the two of you sat, quiet and listening. If there was any conversation, it wasn’t meaningful enough to be particular to the moment - or to be memorable. Art had turned to face you, his hands gently resting on the duvet in front of him like he was leaning forward to breathe you in.

“Can I kiss you?”

The question was posed softly, simply. You smiled - he had been waiting. Art had been waiting since the moment he had first seen you on the court, though he’d admit that he had been waiting a bit more impatiently after he felt your soft hands on his waist those few days ago. Your response was almost painful to him, a word he never wanted to hear:

“Wait.”

You stood and left the room, though you didn’t do much. Instead, you stared into the mirror, brushing your hair away from your face and thinking about what he had said. It wasn’t something you’d say no to, not in any world, but you found that the longer you made a person wait, the better it would be.

When you walked back into the room his eyes were wrought with impatience, hands begging for you. You sat back down again as if you had never left and smiled as he looked through his eyelashes at you. You placed a gentle hand on his cheek and he leaned forward, almost pleading with you. You answered his question softly, placing a deep kiss to his lips. He was almost feverish in his response, hands wrapping themselves into the beach of your hair as he pushed into you, deepening the kiss as much as he could.

You smiled against his lips, hands moving from his face to his waist as you pulled him tighter against you. It seemed as though neither of you needed to breathe as his body wrapped itself around yours and he found himself sighing when the two of you lay down, finally pulling away as you wrapped your arms around him. You lay there, him in your embrace and smiled as he kissed your forearm. You were what he wanted (the same could be said for you).

#fic #fanfic #one shot #writing #mike faist x reader #mike faist #art donaldson x reader #art donaldson #challengers #art challengers #hes a yearner

325 notes · View notes

nicohischierz · 3 days

Text

outed: adelaide hughes au

tagging: @ivy-34, @francesfarhadi, @hzstry8, @cixrosie, @itsnotgray, @estapa94, @trevs-swiftie, @heartz4hisch you want to join the taglist let me know!!

trevor zegras

adelaide and matt had slept in seeing as neither of them had training or a game.

the thing that woke them up from their nap was when addy’s older brothers best friends voice rang through their apartment.

“addy, are you home?” trevor asked.

trevor knew no limits so he walked straight into the younger girls room ready to jump in her bed. however, he was greeted with a sleep adelaide on top of a sleeping matt rempe

the new york native screamed causing addy and matt to jump out of bed.

upon seeing trevor, adelaide moved away from matt and stood on the side. she slipped a sweater over her head and turned to her brothers friend

“z, what the fuck are you doing here?” addy asked. she threw a shirt at her boyfriend, who simply pulled it on without a word.

“what am i doing? i came here to spend time with my honorary sister and im met with the rangers number one fighter. im concerned addy,” trevor rambled.

matt couldn’t help the smile on his face. after all the stories he’d heard about your brothers, trevor seemed like a true friend.

adelaide’s eyes softened as she lunged at the boy for a hug. “i’m fine z. matty makes me happy, like really happy,”

trevor patted the younger girls head and glared at matt. “that’s all i want addy,”

.·:¨༺ ༻¨:·.

cole caufield

adelaide was having her monthly catch-up with cole as she cooked dinner for her and matt.

however, half-way through cole had to answer some texts on the team group chat leaving the two in silence.

whilst adelaide was cooking, she failed to notice her boyfriends arrival. the tall canadian stood by the doorway, admiring his girlfriend.

“well don’t you look so pretty,” matt complimented

the taller boy stood behind adelaide and pressed kisses on her neck as she plated their food in front of the camera.

when adelaide looked up she was met with cole’s shocked face. matt looked at her girlfriends phone and stepped back a bit.

“shit. is this what z meant? he mentioned you were seeing someone but i thought you’d tell me!” cole ranted.

“and you. you may be taller than me but i will fight you. god damn addy now i owe trevor $100.” cole muttered before ending the call.

.·:¨༺ ༻¨:·.

william nylander and matthew knies

adelaide had been having a tough couple of weeks so she took some personal days and flew to toronto without telling anyone.

“adelaide?” willy asked as he saw the girl outside the practice arena.

he noticed her sunken eyes and the frail state her body was in. william immediately rushed to the girl and held her as she broke in his arms.

“come on älskling. you’re coming home with me,” willy asked matthew knies to help him, knowing that you two knew each other.

matthew helped put you in william’s car when your phone started ringing excessively. willy was tempted to ignore it but he didn’t know whether you’d told anyone of your whereabouts so he answered.

“ada!” matt rempe answered on the other side.

“this is william nylander, who are you?” he asked.

matthew urged his teammate to put the phone on speaker and that is what the blonde did.

“i’m matt. is adelaide there?”

“matt who?”

“matt rempe. look i just got back to our apartment and she isn’t here. i’ve called barzy and the martin’s but they haven’t seen her either”, matt rambled.

“she here. she’s in toronto,” willy answered.

“is she okay?” matt’s voice was timid, worried about his girlfriend.

“not really, but i’ll keep her with me for a bit,”

“can you hand her the phone please,”

william turned the phone off speaker and handed it to adelaide.

“matty,” she mumbled.

“hi ada, is willy going to make you feel better?” matt knew how close the two were during their time in toronto. he also knew that other than barzy and tito, willy was the only one who could get her out of a slump.

“willy’s the best. he always looks after me and kniesy’s here too. i miss you,” adelaide smiled at the two leaf players.

“i miss you too princess. get some rest and call me later, i love you,”

“i love you matty,” adelaide ended the call and was about to close her eyes.

“so you share an apartment with matt rempe.” kniesy stated.

adelaide hummed “i share an apartment with my boyfriend,”

.·:¨༺ ༻¨:·.

brendan brisson

brendan and adelaide were in the latters room playing smash or pass whilst they waited for dinner.

brendan was scrolling through a girls list of hockey players on tiktok as they both shouted out their answers.

“eww i can’t believe people find my brothers attractive,” adelaide groaned seeing jack for the sixth time.

brendan laughed and continued scrolling until they landed on matt rempe.

“oh i’ve seen him on fyp, the girls really seem to like him,” brendan added.

adelaide let out a nervous laugh. “pass. he’s a ranger, i’d be hung,”

of course, the knights prospect read between the lines. “okay forget his team, smash or pass?” he asked.

“well pass, he’s not really my type i guess. i don’t know briss,” adelaide answered truthfully.

brendan scoffed. “i think you’d smash. actually i think you already have,” he accused the girl.

adelaide got off her bed and looked to her best friend. “w-w-what, you’re crazy brendan. why would i hook up with a ranger?”

“i don’t know addy but i think he’s the guy you’re soft launching. i mean when i showed you the picture you started blushing. whenever any of the guys brings your boyfriend up you just say he’s tall. also i saw the way he looked at you at the isles vs rangers game i went to,”

brendan gave his best friend a pointed look.

the girl caved fast confessing everything to brendan from the time she met matt to them living together.

“who else knows?” brendan asked.

“well cole, trevor, my team, kniesy, willy, our parents and braden schneider,” addy answered.

“how do cole and trevor know before me!!” brendan exclaimed.

“they caught us,” adelaide replied sheepishly.

.·:¨༺ ༻¨:·.

mat barzal and the team

the islanders were out having drinks after their season and to celebrate adelaide's new sponsor.

of course, adelaide celebrated too much as she hung onto mat and slurred her words. her teammates found it amusing as she gave them all advice on their love lives.

"mat. i love you, i really do but i swear if you show up to training camp with a shaved head finding a girlfriend would be the least of your worries," she threatened.

the boys laughed as mat dropped the girl off on their goalie ilya sorokin. the girl then started counting in russian and muttering random curse words causing the others who understood to look at the girl in amusement.

"oh no, i have to factory reset her to english," mat groaned as adelaide began rambling on in different languages intertwining with her sentences.

adelaide then laid her head onto ilya's shoulder. "i miss matt," she mumbled in english. the poor goalie then pointed at his two teammates with the same name, making the girl excited.

"eww, that's not matt. i want to go home to matty," she whined.

matt martin carried the younger girl out the bar as she stumbled over her feet, mumbling about 'matt'. barzy was given her bag as he searched for a contact under that name.

just as he was about to hand the phone back to adelaide, she received a call from 'remmy 🐀'.

"ada, it's 2:30. you told me to call if I don't hear from you at this time," matt answered on the other end.

"are you matt?" barzy asked.

matt straightened up and prepared to head out the door. "yeah, I'm matt. umm is ada alright?"

"she's fine. i mean a little wasted but functioning,"

"i'll come pick her up. i've got her location, i should be there in ten minutes,"

barzy put adelaide's phone in her bag and hung it over his shoulder. "addy, matt's on his way," he told the younger girl, holding a bottle of water to her lips.

despite some having families and significant others, they all waited to ensure that adelaide got home safe even if that meant they walked across the city for her.

the sounds of matt's jeep alerted the crowd and the boy pulled up as close as possible before stepping out.

adelaide smiled at the sight of her boyfriend. she pushed away from her teammate and stumbled into matt's arm, the boy catching his girlfriend.

"matty, look this one and this one has the same name as you!" she exclaimed, pointing at the other two.

matt smiled at adelaide's teammates and fixed his grip around her waist. "come on ada, let's get you in the car and then I'll run you a bath when we get home,"

adelaide’s teammates looked at one another and then at how comfortable the girl was. “bye friends! i’m gonna miss you,” she shouted out the car door.

“is that?” one of the guys asked as they watched the couple drive away.

“yup,” barzy replied.

“with ..”

“we all pretend we don’t know until she tells us,” anders lee told the group before they split.

#adelaide hughes au #matt rempe au #matt rempe x hughes!sister #matt rempe imagine #matt rempe x reader #nhl imagines #nhl fic #nhl imagine #nicohischierz writes

197 notes · View notes

darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 18 hours

Text

the girl next door 26

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such as age gap, manipulation, chronic illness, noncon/dubcon, coercion, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: A new neighbour moves in and upends your already disarrayed life.

Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself.

This lewk but silverfox

You fall asleep somewhere between the Humphrey Bogart classic and the Tom Hanks-Meg Ryan romcom. It all blends together inside your eyelids as the world glazes over behind the wall of your subconscious. The black-and-white and vibrant technicolor merge and storm around the images of reality; a courthouse, the smell of grass, and a constricting pressure around your middle.

A rippling sensation spreads down your thigh as you slowly rouse from sleep. The worn couch cushions have you stiff as you lay on your side, one leg extended as warmth rests just above your knee. Your eyes slit as the TV continues to play, an early morning news show localised to another district. You yawn and scratch your ear as the world comes into focus.

You don’t remember laying down. You only know one moment you were nestled into the corner and the next, you’re waking up like this. You fell another tickle on your leg and look down at the weight there. Steve’s hand lays on your thigh carelessly as his head hangs back over the back of the couch, his knees wide as his body is slack. He snores up at the ceiling, his other hand on your ankle.

You turn slowly, careful not to disturb him as you pull your leg away from him. He wakes anyway, his head jerking up as he latches onto your calf, squeezing before he lets you go, and grumbles as he rubs his cheeks. He shakes his head.

“Mm, oh, morning already,” he mutters as he leans forward, reaching back to touch his lower back, “umph,” he leans against the armrest, “good new, at least, my couch is a lot comfier.”

He chortles and slides to the edge of the cushion. His jaw tenses before he stands, stretching his legs straight under him as he shifts from one foot to the other. He angles so you can only see his back as he rolls his shoulders. He tugs at the front of his pajamas then glances back at you.

“Sweetie, you okay?” He asks.

You nod as you hug your knees and stare down at the couch. The old floral pattern is worn out and you can feel the springs poking up. Still, the idea of getting rid of it is unsettling.

“This was my grandma’s couch,” you murmur.

“Aw, I know, sweetie, sorry, I didn’t mean--” he nears and sits back down, dragging his knuckle up your pant leg, toying with the fabric as he watches you, “you must’ve loved her, huh?”

“I... yeah,” you shrug.

“If you wanna keep it, how about we put it in your room?”

“What?” you tilt your head, “my room?”

“Well, yeah, you can take the guest room. Makes sense, right? Lots more room there. We’ll have to toss a few things but we’ll make it work. And you can put your art stuff in the studio, I don’t mind sharing.”

“Mm, okay, I guess, I...” you look down at the couch then at him. “You can get rid of it.”

“Hm?”

“The couch,” you turn, slipping away from him. “It’s old.”

“If it means something to you.”

“Not really,” you stand and shuffle away from him. “I’m going to get dressed.”

“Right, uh, yeah,” the coach groans beneath him as he stands again, “I’ll check on mom.”

There’s stolid silence lingering between you, as if he expects a response. You just continue on to the doorway and he clears his throat.

“Got some running around to do today, calls to make,” he says, “gotta get at em.”

You nod and hum but offer him nothing else. You’re tired and disoriented by the disjointed night. Your head is brittle from the lack of sleep and the uncomfortably thin couch cushions.

“Make sure you come and have breakfast with us, huh? I’ll be going into town soon to sort out the bill with hospital and ask about nursing options.”

“Okay,” you utter and turn down the hallway.

It’s a lot. You don’t think you could deal with it alone. It almost makes you thankful for all of it, yet it all still feels very strange.

🏠

You offer to clean up after breakfast as Steve gets ready to leave and your mom reclines on the sectional in the front room. She looks out of it, more than you’ve ever seen her. She was quiet as you ate and looked sickened by each bite. She almost begged Steve to let her lay down.

As Steve grabs his keys, he seems reluctant to leave. It’s as if he wants you to say something, to do something, but you can’t figure out his expectations. That will be a new worry. No longer do you have to keep your mother happy, but her husband will be just another task.

The front door closes as you scrub and rinse. You forego the dishwasher and make sure to handwash each dish, taking your time if only to keep busy. You dry up and stack the plates away, put the glasses in neat rows, and sort out the utensils.

You go to check on your mom. Her eyes are closed and her hand is on her chest. She looks so still you can’t even see her breathing. You cross the room and hover just on the other side of the arm rest, staring at her. Your heart patters nervously as you stare at her chest.

“What do you want?” She growls and opens a single eyelid.

“N-nothing, just... checking on you. You... want a coffee?” You offer, hoping to appease her with a dose of caffeine.

“Should,” she yawns and frames her forehead with her thumb and fingers, leaning against the side of the couch, “goddamn, I’m so tired.”

You briskly return to the kitchen. You use what grounds are left over in the fancy grinder. You’ve never used one before and it kind of scares you. You measure them out and put the water on, waiting before the machine as you bob on your feet.

When at last you have enough for a mug, you pour the coffee and add the cream as your mother likes it. As you come out, you hear her snoring. Her arm is slung over her face as her mouth hangs open and her breath catches in her throat. You know better than to wake her so you leave the cup on the coffee table and retreat.

You’re too restless to stay inside. This isn’t your home. No matter how Steve tries to convince you, you just can’t get used to the idea. He might be nice but it just doesn’t feel right. It’s all so fast. Too fast.

You sit on the top step and stare out at the street. You cup your chin and watch the sky. The clouds are wispy and curl into each other as the sun blazes down. Your vision blurs as the intense lights causes your eyes to water and you stare into the endless above.

You glance over at your mom’s house. You want to run over and hide away in your room. You can’t. You have to be there for mom at least until Steve comes back.

As figure strolls up along the walk and your eyes flick up. You brace yourself for the disproving glare of an HOA minion but instead, find a friendly face. Peter smiles as he stops in front of your mom’s gate and puts his hand on the door. He sees you and waves.

“Hey, what’re you doing over there?” He asks as he jiggles the gate then strides towards Steve’s house.

“Um...” you drone and shrug, standing as he nears the edge of Steve’s lawn. You meet him at the low gate and stop across from him, “I sort of... I think I live here now.”

“You think? Sort of?” He muses.

“Yeah, uh, my mom... got married?”

“You don’t sound so sure about that,” he chuckles. “Everything okay?”

You turn your lips downward and turn out your hands, “sure.”

“Wow, I’m convinced,” he says dryly.

“Sorry, I--”

The toot of a car horn interrupts you and Peter turns to watch as Steve pulls into the drive. Your chest thumps wildly. You’re not doing anything wrong but you feel like you are.

He gets out and puts a hand up. He comes around the corner of the fence and approaches Peter, “hey, kiddo, you making friends?”

Steve’s eyes are focused on Peter even as he speaks to you. The shorter, younger man faces him and offers a hand, “hello, sir, I’m Peter. Old friend.”

“Oh?” Steve’s eyes scale up and down Peter’s figure, “she never mentioned.”

“Well, just moved back to the neighbourhood, you know?” Peter grins, his eyes twinkling as if something’s funny. Steve peers between the two of you.

“Mm, that’s nice,” Steve shakes his hand and you see his knuckles pale as he shakes it firmly, “Steve.”

“New dad, got it,” Peter chirps and the older man’s cheek ticks.

“Mm,” he squints as his square jaw clenches, “well, Pete,” he nearly spits, “her mom’s not doing too well so she’s a bit busy. Aren’t you, kiddo?”

He looks at you and you look at Peter. You nod and look away guiltily, “yeah.”

“Well then, Pete,” Steve releases Peter’s hand and claps his shoulder, “think you should be on your way.”

“Right,” Peter nods and turns to you, “sorry to hear about your mom. Hope she feels better. See ya round.” He puts up three fingers in a half-wave, “see ya, Steve.”

He steps past Steve, brushing close as he does, and marches off with a spring in his step. The older man turns to glare after him. You don’t know why he’s so bothered, Peter’s nice enough. Well, maybe Peter isn’t the issue.

“Sorry, mom’s sleeping so I came out here--”

“Come on,” he interjects as he lets himself through the gate, “did you give her her meds?”

You frown as you scurry ahead of him. You didn’t. You thought he had. Oh no.

#steve rogers #dark steve rogers #dark!steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #drabble #series #the girl next door #au #silverfox au #mcu #marvel #captain america #avengers #peter parker

151 notes · View notes

six-eyed-samurai · 3 days

Text

Yo I think something glitched when I was making the header...didn't crop properly. Anyway, enjoy this trash and I'm sorry if it's not up to my usual standard but I just got the random idea in the middle of the night!

Note: Reader is pregnant, so therefore fem and if it makes you uncomfortable I apologise but don't read

Everyone was convinced Tomioka Giyuu hated you right from the start.

You were first introduced to the Hashira when Oyakata-sama called them all for a meeting on the latest reports of demon activity, but requested them all to stay a little longer before being dismissed. Amane gestured for you to come forward with a gentle smile and you shuffled out of the shadows with your hands clasped together in nervousness but with a bright bream upon your face. The Hashira’s eyes caught yours in surprise, wondering if you were perhaps a new Kakushi since you weren’t wearing a slayer uniform, but instead a traditional (f/c) yukata.

Then their eyes strayed downwards and changed their minds about that, but nonetheless still remained in confusion.

“This is our newest member, (y/n) (y/l/n), the (b/f) Hashira. She was supposed to join our ranks quite some months ago but due to her sudden pregnancy she will for now be an honorary member.”

The only sign of your anxiety was the blush on your cheeks and the hand rubbing at your swollen abdomen. “Hi everyone! I’m so happy to meet you all! I won’t be on the battlefield for some time and I’m sorry I can’t fight alongside you for now, but I look forward to getting to know you all. If you need anything, I’m always at the (e/n) Estate.”

The ice was broken and you were immediately approached by many of the Hashira. Himejima-san cried and wished you and your child good health, making you feel a little embarrassed but thanked him anyway. The Mist Pillar Tokito simply stared at you, then at the sky, then at you again before asking what were you doing here again (later on, he startled you by appearing behind and questioning you in that airheaded manner of his if he could talk to the baby).

You were also tackled by the Love Pillar who introduced herself as Kanroji Mitsuri and your new best friend as well as the calmer Insect Pillar, Kocho Shinobu, who despite slightly unnerving you with her smile touched you greatly when she said you could always stop by the Butterfly Mansion for checkups or simply a visit.

“How far along are you?”

“About five months, I think!”

“KYAAAAAAAAAAH! Your baby is going to be so cute! What’s it’s name? Do you know if it’s a he or a she yet? I can’t wait to be an aunt!”

“Heh, I’m not too sure yet, but I have a feeling it’s going to be a boy!”

Mitsuri squealed again, causing you to laugh at her genuine happiness. She whipped her head behind her and called out to the silently glowering Snake Pillar. “Iguro-san, don’t you think the baby will be cute? I really wish I’ll have some of my own one day!”

You and Shinobu shared a smirk as the Wind Pillar grumpily slapped his friend’s back and dragged the furiously red Iguro away, muttering viciously about not wasting any more time in hunting a Twelve Kizuki.

“Oh look, there's Tomioka-san. Why hasn't he come and said hello yet?”

“Ah well, a lone friendless wolf as always.” Shinobu didn't see you originally visibly brighten at Mitsuri’s words and turn surprised at hers.

Indeed Tomioka was standing awkwardly as always a little - long, actually - way off. What was not as always was that horrified, slack jawed look on his face instead of his usual blank, emotionless one.

“Tomioka-san? Are you alright? You've been making that face for a long time already…” Shinobu's eye twitched, but you didn't notice, suddenly preoccupied with Muichiro’s intense questioning of whether he could play with the baby when it was born.

“She shouldn't be a Hashira.”

The remaining Hashira found themselves narrowing their eyes at the Water Pillar's blunt, if not rude, words.

That would be just one of the many events that further convinced them of his intense dislike of you.

***

You started going over a lot to the Butterfly Mansion over then next few months, becoming a fast favorite among the girls for your cheerful attitude and your baby; even Kanao cracked a smile at you when you came around. When the other Hashira arrived to be healed you always made it a point to go pay them a visit and in turn you pretty soon had every one of them in your back pocket, including the harsh, loudmouthed Wind Pillar Shinazugawa who constantly gave you a jolt with the complete 360 with his attitude around you, to the point you could call him a good friend.

Being friends with him usually meant hearing him grumble about the stupid waterboy.

“Why doesn’t he ever look at you anyway, turning away like that. So rude, that little (beep) (beep) (beep)-”

“Eheh, Shinazugawa-san, don’t swear so loudly, he’ll hear you!”

You had stopped by to Sanemi’s room when Shinobu had mentioned he was there to be patched up after a mission and knowing how busy she was, had offered to go help change his bandages with the basic medical knowledge you had picked up over the years of being a slayer. Reluctantly she had agreed and so here you were, chatting away with him until he spotted Tomioka passing by (he poked his head in actually, otherwise Sanemi would never have noticed him) and started complaining about him once more, especially when you had called out to him and Tomioka had simply whipped his head to the side to stare into the distance.

Really, Sanemi wasn’t the only one to notice how Tomioka avoided you like the plague with that stupid, vacant, red expression of his.

“He’s just shy, he doesn’t mean to be rude!” You defended the poor Pillar, continuing with rewinding the new wrappings.

“Tch, you should see how he acts at the meetings, like he’s better than us or something,” was the growling reply. “(beep) doesn’t know how to (beep) talk with anyone with his (beep) attitude.”

“I don’t think he thinks he’s better than all of you, maybe it’s just something else,” You hum, finishing up. “That’s all! I’m glad the demon didn’t go any further than a scratch.”

Shinazugawa grunted, then his gaze caught yours and softened. “By the way, who’s the dad?”

“Oh, it’s -”

“(y/n)-san!” Three heads peeked in from the door shyly. “Can you come and play with us?”

“Of course! Bye, Shinazugawa!”

Like always the reply was only a “tch”.

***

Another thing was that he never stopped repeating what he said at the first time everyone met you: “She shouldn’t be a Hashira”, going as far as to attempt to prevent you from wielding a sword, although this was only noticed by Tanjiro.

You had agreed to the Kamaboko Squad’s requests (aka demands by Inosuke and begging from Zenitsu) to train together, despite Tanjiro’s worries which you brushed off. The boys were very rambunctious and did tire you out quite a bit, but you were having so much fun and they were so eager you just went on sparring with them until even Inosuke muttered a plead for a quick break, unable to beat your incredible swordsmanship.

“(y/n)-chan!!! Who’s the lucky guy you married?! You never told us and I want to know how he managed to score someone so beautiful like you so I can do it with Nezuko-chan!” Zenitsu simpered, scooting closer, ignoring Tanjiro’s scandalized look.

“What’s married?” Inosuke’s voice was muffled underneath his boar mask and the mountain of onigiri you had brought he was stuffing into his mouth, so none of you heard him.

You giggle, placing a hand on your stomach. “He’s very sweet, although he’s honestly very shy and doesn’t talk much. I’m sure you’ve met him before! Can you guess?”

“Woah, really?” Tanjiro brightened, wondering who it could be, but his next question was interrupted by an interrogative monotone.

“What are you doing? You shouldn’t be training.” Tomioka stood in front of them, the first time anyone had seen him interact with you without just staring at the ground. His face was as empty as the void but there was a tiny crease between his eyebrows and Tanjiro didn’t have to inhale to smell the worry reeking off him.

“I didn’t know you were so concerned about (y/n)-chan, Tomioka-san.” Zenitsu’s eyebrows shot up, disappearing under his hair while he glowered judgmentally.

Tomioka made no reply, only swiftly grabbing and removing the sword from your hand. “She shouldn’t be a Hashira, much less train. You nearly died fighting a demon not too long ago, you’re in no shape to be doing this.”

With that he abruptly walked off and left Zenitsu and Inosuke to scream at him for being such an un-gentleman and for not fighting with them while you looked away sadly.

Tanjiro wondered why he didn’t once smell dislike on Tomioka. Only fear.

***

“What’s he got against (l/n)?” Obanai joined in on the conversation from his perch on the tree. He’d look for reasons to hate against the Water Pillar all the time, but unlike the others this time round his hatred was justified.

Tengen rolled his eyes flamboyantly. “I know! He’s constantly acting like she’s a pest to be around, but she doesn’t seem to have beef with him. What’s wrong with that bland creature?”

“Oh come on! We don’t actually know if he hates her,” Rengoku protested mildly.

“Then why does he keep refusing to even make eye contact with her?”

“I mean, Iguro, you can’t talk, you only ever look at Kanroji” - Obanai turned away, blushing furiously as Tengen cackled - “but I get your point. The other day I walked in on them arguing. I can’t believe he would keep reminding her of past failures without keeping her current state in mind!”

“Perhaps he only wants to try and convince her to stay safe during this time and discourage her from slaying for now?”

“Rengoku, my best buddy, you’re too optimistic.”

“There’s no other reason he’d give her the cold shoulder 24/7.”

Soon the conversation drifted to other topics, but little would they know Rengoku was the closest to the truth…

***

Shinobu already had enough on her hands with all the screaming, panic and blood, but of course Tomioka just had to show up at the most inopportune moment.

It had been a relatively quiet day as the two of you sat on the engawa, exchanging war stories over tea when with a sudden cry you had doubled over in pain. Your water had broken and you were heading into labour - quickly.

Just barely the Insect Pillar had managed to get you to a bed and sent the Butterfly Girls scurrying for the necessities, hiding her uneasiness at the slight earliness of your boy’s arrival to keep you calm and help you through it. You were doing well under her coaxing to use Total Concentration Breathing, and thankfully Shinazugawa was still around to help you relax with a familiar face.

Then Aoi had burst in with a frantic expression and thundering footsteps from behind that certainly weren’t hers.

“Shinobu-san, Tomioka is demanding to be let in-”

“Keep him out!” Shinobu grimaced, returning her attention to you. She’s heard and seen what he’s like around you, and other than the fact he has no business to be here she didn’t want to send you into a further state of panic. “He doesn’t like her, and if he opens that mouth of his to say anything more I might be responsible for two deaths.”

You dug your nails into Sanemi’s proffered hand, screaming in pain. He winced but said nothing, only looking up with a determined look in his eyes at Shinobu. “I’ll go keep Tomioka out, just make sure she delivers safely.”

Without waiting for a reply Sanemi rushed out to bar the doorway, leaving Shinobu to assure and handle your birthing with the anxious assistance of the Butterfly Girls. The pain in your stomach was surely abominable, intolerable, and Shinobu found herself growing more alarmed with every minute the baby wasn’t coming out.

“(y/n), I need you to push harder, alright? Can you do that for me?”

“N-no - where is he?”

“Your husband? I’ll get someone to call him, don’t worry,” Shinobu lied with dawning horror that in the entire time she had known you…she had no actual idea who you were married to. “But he wouldn’t like you see you like this, right? You can do it. Just keep your breathing under control.”

“JUST (beep) OFF, TOMIOKA!” Shinazugawa’s voice bellowed through the Mansion. His stocky form soon appeared, stubbornly acting as an indomitable barrier against the equally stubborn Tomioka who was desperately trying to barge his way through.

“Tomioka, we don’t need unnecessary people here to worry (y/n) more-”

”THAT’S MY WIFE!”

Whether it was because Tomioka had never raised his voice before or the sheer shock of it all or the fact you reached out for his hand, Shinobu and Sanemi let him through.

“I thought I was going to lose you when I heard you screaming like that from outside.” Giyuu nuzzled deeper into your neck, absently stroking your baby’s tiny hand. “Don’t scare me like that again.”

You played with the strands of his hair with a teasing smirk. “You did to, banging into the room like that, with the “That’s my wife!”. It was very romantic of you, Giyuu~”

“I was in a rush.” Giyuu smacked his face into the pillow, embarrassed while you laugh.

“Ara ara~ Are you both done cuddling? I want to perform a quick checkup on your baby now, if you don’t mind, and all the Hashira are here to ask you a lot of things, Tomioka.” Shinobu stood at the doorway with her customary smile, a twitching eye and crossed arms. Behind her were the shadows of the others trying to peek over her shoulder or head into the room to congratulate you on your baby or beat up Tomioka (both for some).

“Ask about what?” Giyuu lifted up his head in confusion. You snort at his obliviousness, cooing at your precious sleeping baby before gently passing him to Shinobu.

“MAYBE ABOUT HOW (Y/N) IS YOUR WIFE AND YOU NEVER TOLD US?”

“KYAAAAAAAAAH! That’s so cute of you, Tomioka!”

“Do you hate us all or something?!”

“No…? No one asked and I thought (y/n) would have told you,” Giyuu said blankly, glancing at you with wide blue eyes. You sheepishly raised your shoulders.

“I tried to tell them but we kept getting interrupted or had no chance.”

“You did make us all think you hated (y/n) with your behaviour, Tomioka.” Shinobu raised an eyebrow. “After all, you rarely spoke to her and when you did it was only to reprimand her, but I can see now it was probably out of worry for your child and her…although rather harshly.”

“Oh!” You burst out laughing, shaking so hard you nearly couldn’t take back your awakening baby Shinobu was handing over. “Giyuu’s just very shy! See-”

You pressed a quick peck to his cheek.

giyuu.exe has stopped working.

#sanzuyaps #giyuu x reader #giyuu x y/n #giyuu x you #giyuu tomioka x reader #giyuu tomioka x y/n #kny x reader #giyuu x reader fluff

121 notes · View notes

tinyundercover · 3 days

Text

pepper & felix

part thirteen

:))))))) cw: excessive alcohol consumption word count: 4.1k

Pepper did not understand alcohol.

He was aware that humans drank it, but he was appalled as to why. In the last few years he had run into his fair share of humans that seemed to be overcome by the effects of alcohol, pink-faced and dizzy and loud, and he had always avoided them. Why would humans do this to themselves?

He and Basil had grown up in a bakery, surrounded by warmth and sugar, so Pepper hadn’t been exposed to alcohol until he moved out at the age of nineteen. After two weeks of traveling, he had found his first home– a small house occupied by a middle-aged human couple. It had been frightening to live somewhere entirely new, but it had turned out to be a comfortable home for him.

For two years, he had observed the human couple, and had been confused by their occasional consumption of alcohol. Once, after running across some leftover liquor in a glass, he had even tried a sip. His curiosity had left him choking and spluttering and absolutely revolted by the humans’ drink. His confusion had only increased.

After the humans had noticed their things going missing and had begun to set out mouse traps, Pepper had been forced to leave their house and search for a new home. He had made his way into an apartment complex around the time he turned twenty-one years old, and had built a new home within the walls of an introverted, blonde human, who Pepper pleasantly noticed very rarely drank alcohol.

Now, he stood on the arm of the human’s couch, staring up at said human in front of him.

“I thought you didn’t like parties,” he pointed out, brow furrowing.

Felix sighed, features soft. “I don’t, not really,” he admitted, leaning down to see Pepper better. “But I kind of have to go to this one.”

“Why?” Pepper asked incredulously.

“I dunno… it’s a cast party, so it would be a little rude for me not to show up, I guess. I already told everyone I would go.”

Pepper shook his head, astounded. He couldn’t imagine attending any kind of party, especially one he didn’t want to go to. As far as he knew, human parties consisted of large groups of humans getting together to be incredibly loud and take up space. It sounded awful.

“I’m only gonna go for a little bit,” Felix continued, gaze dancing over Pepper’s uneasy form. It was hard to tell why Pepper was so uncomfortable with this.

To be honest, Pepper wasn’t sure why he was so nervous, either. Looking up at Felix, taking in the entirety of the human’s tall and imposing form, his stomach fluttered. Felix, surely, would be able to take care of himself in the presence of so many other humans. Pepper shouldn’t worry.

Pepper nodded slowly, crossing his arms. “Alright.”

“It’ll be okay,” Felix promised, straightening up. He wore a baggy graphic tee and blue jeans, reminding Pepper that this was a comfortable, casual event for the human. The borrower forced himself to take a deep breath and nodded again.

“Right,” he agreed unhappily. “I’ll see you later.”

However, as listened to the sound of the front door closing moments later, he couldn’t fight the feeling that something awful was bound to happen.

–

Forty people was a lot to fit into Ricky’s small apartment.

Felix weaved his way through the crowd in the kitchen, gaze searching, feeling incredibly out of place. Every so often someone would stop him to say hi, only to abandon the conversation a moment later, making Felix wonder how useless his social skills could be. Relief filled his chest when he spotted Breanna and Owen, chatting by the wall, and he gratefully walked over to them. “Hey.”

“Felix!” Breanna lit up instantly. “I was wondering when you’d get here.”

Felix checked his phone, sheepishly observing the fact that he was over an hour late. He had stalled by talking to Pepper for far too long. “Is Alice here?”

Owen took a sip of his drink, because unlike Felix and Breanna, he was happy to have a few drinks when they went to parties. “Yeah, somewhere.”

“What are you doing here?”

Owen grinned. “I like parties.”

Felix let out a breathy laugh. Despite the fact that Owen wasn’t in the cast, it was nice to see a familiar face. Owen had accompanied his three friends to so many theater events that he might as well be considered an honorary theater member at this point.

The next twenty minutes were bearable, as Felix lingered by the wall with his friends. Music filled the air, blasting from a speaker, so Felix was forced to lean in close to his friends to even hear them properly.

When Alice approached them, Felix almost forgot the weird situation the two of them were currently in, more relieved to have another face he recognized as a friend. Her black hair had been pulled into a slicked-back ponytail, revealing the sharpness of her expression as she glanced over Felix. A red solo cup was held in her hand. “Hey, Felix.”

“Hey.” Felix opened his mouth, but found himself at a loss for words, hesitantly turning away from Alice to listen in on Breanna and Owen’s conversation. The tension in the air suddenly filled his lungs.

The past week of rehearsals had been uncomfortable, to say the least. Felix and Alice didn’t say much to each other, both of them gravitating towards Breanna as their closest friend. Felix didn’t know what to do, or how to repair his relationship with Alice.

Were they fighting? He thought that they had cleared things up, but Alice’s lingering frowns and cold eyes made him feel like they weren’t past the borrower situation. He wanted to bring it up to her, but he was terrified of somehow betraying the borrowers, or rubbing salt into the freshly opened wound of his and Alice’s relationship. He didn’t know what to do.

“Rehearsals have been crazy, huh?” Alice remarked suddenly.

Felix met her gaze, peering intently. “Yeah,” he agreed after a moment, grateful that Alice had broken the tension first. “Yeah, how have you been holding up?”

Alice laughed, then took a long sip of her drink. Felix vaguely noticed the pink twinge in her cheeks. “If Mrs. Shelton makes us run the ballroom dance one more time, I’m gonna lose it.”

Felix let out a laugh at that. In rehearsal yesterday, he and Alice had spent hours working on one singular dance scene between Ariel and Eric. It had become exhausting after a while, especially considering the fact that the two of them were barely on speaking terms and had to act like they were madly in love. Being able to laugh about it brought a warm feeling into Felix’s chest.

After a few minutes, Breanna and Owen tuned into Felix and Alice’s conversation. The four of them together, laughing and comfortable, was something Felix had missed greatly. He hoped that Alice felt the same.

An hour into the party Ricky organized karaoke, which the cast grew ecstatic for. The majority of them crammed into the large space of the living room, and Felix and Alice watched in amusement as Breanna dragged Owen towards a microphone and insisted that he sing a duet with her.

“Owen should sing more,” Alice commented as the redhead reluctantly began a few rocky notes, grinning at Breanna. “He’s got a good voice.”

Felix hummed in agreement, arms crossing. The pair of them lingered by the door to the kitchen, and after a moment Alice peered into her empty cup. “I’m going to the kitchen,” she decided. “Do you want anything?”

“I don’t really drink.”

“Forgot. Sorry.” Alice shrugged and slipped away.

Felix turned back to Breanna and Owen, who were now belting enthusiastically into their mics. An uncomfortable feeling fixed around Felix’s chest, and he turned and followed Alice into the kitchen.

Alice stood alone by the counter, filling her solo cup from a bowl of spiked punch. She glanced up as Felix approached. “Changed your mind?”

“No, I just… wanted to talk to you,” Felix admitted, leaning against the counter. Alice eyed him, bringing her cup to her lips, expectant. Felix hesitantly continued. “Is everything… okay with us?”

Alice took a few extra seconds to set her cup down, stalling. “What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean.” Felix kept his voice light, raising his eyebrows. Alice’s lips twitched into a smile, then dropped, and she lowered her gaze. “I mean, you’re my closest friend, Alice. I don’t want things to get weird between us just because of one little mistake.”

Alice nodded slowly, continuing to avoid Felix’s gaze. Her fingers drummed over her cup. “I don’t know.”

Felix’s heart fell. “What?”

“I don’t know,” Alice repeated, blue gaze flickering. There was no malice or anger in her quiet voice. At Felix’s startled silence, she continued, turning her body towards him. “I mean, are those… people still in your apartment?”

Felix flushed, glancing away. “Uh… no, no, they’re not.”

Silence stretched between them for a bit too long. Alice’s eyebrows raised pointedly. “They are, aren’t they?”

“No,” Felix insisted lamely.

Alice remained quiet, taking a sip of her drink, and Felix’s stomach twisted. When she finally spoke, it was to say, “I just… I feel hurt.”

“You… what?”

“I’m hurt. I get it, I made a mistake, but you treated me— you’ve been treating me— like I’m this awful person.” Alice’s voice rose suddenly, the redness of her cheeks growing. “You won’t even look at me in rehearsal.”

A cold, heavy feeling settled into Felix’s chest, and he took a step back. Realization hit him like a truck. “Wait, you…”

All this time, he thought that Alice had been intentionally avoiding him. Had he really been ignoring her so pointedly?

“That’s not true,” Felix began quickly, suddenly desperate to explain himself. “I’m just worried for the borrowers.”

Alice’s lips thinned. “Borrowers?”

Shit.

“Alice—”

“What are you worried about?” Alice continued, aghast. “What, that I might take them again? Do you think I haven’t learned my lesson?”

The anger in her face fell away as two more people entered the room. Felix and Alice turned sharply towards Breanna and Owen, who immediately pounced on them.

“Did you hear our song?” Breanna pressed excitedly, not catching onto the tension in the air. “Owen fucked up that high note, did you hear that?”

“I did,” Owen insisted, uncharacteristically proud of his singing voice.

Felix and Alice must have hesitated for a bit too long, because their two friends’ faces immediately dropped, glancing between them.

“Did something happen?” Breanna asked in alarm.

Alice met Felix’s gaze, a glint in her eye. “Why don’t you tell them?” She grumbled, her flush deepening.

The three others jerked back at her hostility. Owen’s eyebrows raised. “Holy shit. What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” Felix insisted, heart racing.

“It’s not nothing,” Alice snapped.

“How much have you had to drink?” Breanna interrupted, dark eyes wide with concern as she glanced over Alice. Her nervous gaze turned to Felix, as if he might answer her question. “Is she okay?”

Alice sucked in a sharp breath, voice tense. “I’m fine. Felix, for the love of god, just tell them.”

“Tell us what?”

“I’m not gonna— Alice, I’m not supposed to tell—”

“What, you don’t trust them, either?”

Alice’s words made Felix freeze. He blinked rapidly, glancing between his three friends, one of which was glaring menacingly and the other two were uneasily watching. His mouth was dry when he said, “Of course I trust you guys. It’s just… it’s not my secret to tell.”

“Oh, why not?” Alice said exasperatedly, leaning closer. “What do you think is gonna happen?”

For a moment, the only noise in the room was the distant sound of someone singing karaoke, comically juxtaposed to the tension in the kitchen.

Breanna’s voice was quiet. “Guys, maybe you should get some water, sit down—”

“Felix doesn’t trust us,” Alice decided suddenly, jerking away. “He thinks we might hurt his little friends.”

Panic jumped up into Felix’s throat. “Alice.”

“And I did, but barely, and I said sorry, but he still acts like I—”

“Alice!” Felix interjected, chest tight. “Please.”

Alice stared at him for a moment, face flushed, before she tore away from their group and stormed out the door. Breanna stared at Felix, stunned and unsure, before following after Alice.

Felix and Owen were left alone. Owen’s gaze flickered over Felix, curious, silent.

“Owen,” Felix began weakly. “I…”

His friend only lifted his eyebrows, and Felix faltered, leaning back against the counter and bringing a hand to his forehead. The cold feeling had spread from chest throughout his whole body, leaving him feeling numb and unwell.

Felix’s hand knocked into a glass bottle.

Suddenly emboldened by the misery in his chest, Felix turned his head defeatedly. “Let’s do some shots.”

–

The quiet whirr of the AC filled the room as the only background noise. Pepper sat on the back of the couch, absentmindedly stitching up a rip in his jacket, draped over his lap.

After Felix had left, Pepper had chosen to remain seated on the couch, waiting for his friend to return. He didn’t have much to do at his home, and he didn’t see the point of walking all the way back there just yet, since Basil wasn’t there. Yesterday she had expressed her guilt to Pepper that she had been “overstaying her welcome” and “third-wheeling,” and since then she had been exploring the expanse of the apartment building, searching for a nearby place to build a home.

Pepper was worried for her, but he was confident in her abilities to survive on her own. There was no telling when she might return, considering that she might travel all the way back to her original house to explain everything to the borrower family she lived with. He felt guilty that she had gotten caught up in his strange situation with Felix, leaving her feeling like she needed to give them space but also wanting to stick around and provide emotional support to her brother. Moving into her own place in the apartment building seemed like the best solution for the time being.

A sigh let Pepper’s body, and he dropped back, resting his head on the thick surface of the couch. The ceiling stretched high above him, reminding him just how out of place he was in this massive apartment. He had hoped that by spending time in Felix’s apartment by himself, he would grow more comfortable being in such an open space, but his heart still continued to twist every time he remembered how vulnerable he was, out in the open.

The sound of the front door opening made Pepper instinctively sit up, clutching his jacket. The panic that shot through his body flickered away as he registered that it could only be Felix, and he relaxed. He busied himself by finishing up the stitching of his jacket as he waited for Felix to enter the living room.

It took a surprisingly long time. Footsteps filled the kitchen, followed by the occasional bump or clatter. Something in the back of Pepper’s mind hummed concerning, but he barely acknowledged it, turning his head as a tall figure finally appeared in the doorway.

Almost immediately, Pepper sensed that something was wrong.

Felix, at his enormous height, appeared to have lost his ability to stand properly. A large hand grasped the door frame in order to hold himself up, and despite this Felix still managed to sway back and forth, body unsteady. Pepper’s skin prickled uneasily. The blonde hair atop Felix’s head was slightly disheveled, as if he had just rolled out of bed, and even from across the room Pepper could see the glassiness of his half-lidded eyes as they searched the room.

Pepper’s breath hitched, coldness swarming his chest. He suddenly found that he was frozen, completely isolated on top of the couch. Vulnerability struck him like lightning, and with a dry mouth he shoved his jacket aside, pulling himself to his feet.

That turned out to be the wrong thing to do. Felix’s gaze was tugged towards Pepper’s movement, and when the human’s eyes finally landed on him Pepper’s instincts all but screamed in his mind.

He didn’t understand what the hell was wrong with Felix, but he didn’t want to stick around and find out.

Felix didn’t seem to notice the way Pepper’s face had gone pale. The human positively lit up at the sight of the borrower, standing frozen on the back of the couch. “Pepper.”

The borrower’s jaw tightened, unable to pull his gaze away from the unsettling sight of his friend. His breath hitched when Felix suddenly approached, stumbling but still much too fast for comfort, and the borrower backed up as much as he could without tumbling off the couch.

“Felix, wha—!” Alarms shrieked in Pepper’s mind at the sight of two massive, foreboding hands reaching for him, and before he could even think to run he was being swept up into a grip far more powerful than he could ever hope to be. “Hey!”

His heart raced in panic. Felix’s unusually clumsy fingers somehow managed to be both too tight and not tight enough, and Pepper gasped, latching onto the fingers around him lest he fall through. The sudden terror that gripped his throat was suffocating.

For the first time since their first meeting, Felix had picked Pepper up without warning.

“Look at you,” Felix cooed, words slurring. The pink of his cheeks was much more visible from so close, rosy and warm. “You’re so cute.”

Pepper’s breath shuddered, gray eyes wide and startled. Felix was holding him close to his face, closer than he ever had before, allowing the scent of alcohol to hit the borrower and bring the realization crashing down that Felix was drunk.

Hot panic filled Pepper’s chest as he searched Felix’s soft, glassy blue eyes. His lack of experience with alcohol had not prepared him for anything like this. He barely even understood its purpose or effects, let alone how to deal with a giant who was so incredibly drunk he had forgotten how to hold a borrower properly.

Pepper swallowed thickly, heels sliding on Felix’s palm. Felix’s forefinger and thumb were tight around Pepper’s torso, bunching the borrower’s shirt up uncomfortably. His gaze wandered Felix’s face, at an absolute loss of what to do.

“Felix,” Pepper said slowly, carefully. Fear crept up into his throat. “Felix, put me down.”

He couldn’t tell if Felix was listening, or if he could even understand him. He was answered by a sudden punch of vertigo, the air rushing up around him, drawing an exclamation from his chest. “Ah!”

Felix had collapsed onto the couch, knocking the wind out of Pepper’s lungs. The borrower gasped for breath, squirming in Felix’s grip, gaze dancing as he searched for some sort of escape route.

“I missed you,” Felix announced, haphazardly ruffling Pepper’s hair with a finger. The borrower jerked away, startled. “The party— the party wasn’t good.”

Felix spoke as if the words weren’t fitting properly in his mouth, unusual and misshapen.

“Felix,” Pepper said again, breaths quick and uneven. How long did it take for alcohol to wear off? He had no idea. “You should— put— put me down.”

“I don’t want to,” Felix responded, warm and bright. The words made Pepper’s blood run cold. “You’re— I want… you’re my soulmate.”

“I— I know—” Pepper shivered, pushing anxiously at the fingers around him. He couldn’t handle such close proximity to Felix’s face and his large, warm fingers overwhelming him. They usually were so gentle.

Felix wasn’t hurting him, but there was a distinct lack of care in the way he was handling Pepper, clumsily and oppressive. Pepper didn’t think that Felix would hurt him intentionally, but the idea that he might accidentally be harmed was very, very prominent in his mind.

“You’re my soulmate and you’re tiny,” Felix suddenly giggled, poking at Pepper’s trembling chest.

Before Pepper could process what was happening, Felix lost his balance and fell to the side. Pepper yelped, tumbling onto the soft cushion of the couch, catching his breath only when Felix had propped himself up on his elbows, gaze bleary.

The realization that Felix was now hovering over Pepper, shoulders large and towering, sent Pepper’s panic skyrocketing all over again. The borrower scrambled back until he bumped into the arm of the couch.

“Oh,” Felix said, as if he only just realized that he had collapsed. His forearms trapped Pepper into a box, and he blinked several times as he processed the borrower standing only a few inches in front of his face. “Be careful.”

With the massive hands next to him, and the arm of the couch behind him, Pepper had nowhere to go. His lips tightened, processing Felix’s words. “Felix?”

“You’re… little,” Felix hiccuped, moving his hands to cradle Pepper from behind. “You could get hurt.”

Pepper took a moment to steady his breathing, glancing at the hands behind him. “I’m fine. I’m fine, Felix, just don’t—”

In one quick movement, Felix swept Pepper into his palm. He leaned forward, and suddenly he was pressing his soft lips into Pepper’s chest in a big, clumsy kiss.

Shock exploded into Pepper’s heart. The heat that radiated from Felix was overwhelming, enveloping the borrower in fire. The lips against Pepper’s body were soft but so underlyingly powerful, and all he could think about was how close he was to a giant’s mouth and how easily said giant could trap him between his teeth without a second’s thought.

The light pressure vanished as Felix pulled away, then erupted into a fit of giggles, so uncharacteristic for him. Pepper blinked up at him, face scarlet.

“I kissed you,” Felix whispered teasingly, as if he was sharing a secret.

Embarrassment crept into Pepper’s face, growing even hotter. He slowly straightened up, examining Felix’s face. “You— you should go to bed,” he forced out, voice wobbling.

Thankfully, Felix actually seemed to register what he was saying, and he nodded. His large, clumsy hands tightened around Pepper, securing him as he pulled himself to his feet, leaving the borrower gasping for a few seconds.

Pepper only realized what was happening when Felix made his way over to his bedroom, the borrower held against his chest. “Hang on,” he called, heart racing. “Wait. You don’t need to take me with you.”

Pepper rarely ever entered Felix’s bedroom. Not only was there nothing of use in here that he couldn't find in the living room, but it just felt like an invasion of privacy, even before he had become friends with Felix. He felt guilty being in here while Felix was under the influence and clearly not entirely aware of what was happening.

“Oh— wait, waitwaitwait—”

Felix unceremoniously flopped down onto his bed, cradling Pepper against him and knocking the wind out of the borrower. The world spun for a moment, and Pepper took a deep breath, blinking up at the ceiling. The ground below him was soft and warm.

“Goodnight, Pepper,” Felix said with a yawn.

His voice had floated from somewhere above Pepper’s head, making the borrower freeze and register exactly where he was.

The soft fabric of Felix’s shirt. The distant heartbeat. The gentle sway of enormous breaths.

Pepper was sprawled out on Felix’s chest, enveloped by a hand larger than himself. The panic that had spiked in Pepper’s body slowly subsided into uneasy breathing, and the borrower attempted to sit up.

“Felix,” Pepper said weakly, squirming. The hand atop of him was heavy, pinning him down effortlessly by its weight alone. “I don’t sleep here.”

“Hmm,” Felix responded noncommittally, the noise rumbling deep in his chest. Pepper’s breath caught in his throat, face warm.

“Felix,” he demanded, trying to twist so that he could look up at the human. He was met by silence, and the slow movement of sleeping lungs below him.

Pepper’s heart continued to pound, much louder than the heart thudding away below him. Felix’s hand wasn’t hurting him, just very slightly pinning him down, cradling him against the warm chest below him. This was the closest he had ever been to Felix in his life.

It wasn’t exactly… uncomfortable.

He tentatively shoved at the hand one more time, then promptly gave up, flopping down with a huff. He stared at the ceiling for a long moment, listening to the idle sounds of the air conditioning and Felix’s breathing, before taking a deep breath and slumping his shoulders. Forcing himself to shift into a more comfortable position, he closed his eyes, sank into the heat surrounding him, and prayed that Felix wasn’t the type to move in his sleep.

-------

YAAAYYYYYY DRUNK GIANTS :DDDDD

I hope you enjoyed this chapter! I had fun writing it :))

TAGLIST: @smallsday @compact-katrina @satethesatelite @taters169 @entomolog-t @gtzel @gt-newbie @da3dm @clumsiergiantess @vee-normous @fee-hunter @torakan

#pepper & felix #g/t #giant/tiny #g/t writing #borrowers #drunk giants

121 notes · View notes

pettydollie · 2 days

Text

ik it’s not father’s day yet but shhhh

⋆｡‧˚ʚ🍼🧸🎀ɞ˚‧｡⋆

“happy father’s day baby..” you mutter, kissing and licking your boyfriend’s lips. chris grunts, pushing hair out of his face. he’s still on top of you after a long three rounds, keeping his arms straight while he looks down at you. he grins at your joke. you two have this thing where you act like he’s breeding you because it really turns you guys on—

“what’s funny? im so serious!” you giggle with this glint in your eyes that tell chris you’re not lying. his smile drops, looking down in between you both. he watches some his cum ooze out of your puckered hole while the rest was previously shoved deep inside by him. he lifts his glance back towards you, raising an eyebrow with a slightly opened mouth. “ya didn’t take the pill this mornin’?” he asks, dryly chucking after, like he doesn’t believe you’d do that without telling him.

but he’s wrong. you meekly nod your head, pursing your lips innocently as you wait for his reaction. the room fills with silence while chris’ head fills with loud, noisy thoughts. after moments, you chime in to the silence. “i already have a whole pinterest board and everyth—“

“holy shit i’m gonna be a dad.” chris bends his arms, dropping his head onto your chest. you lazily twirl a piece of his oily hair, humming a light “mhmm”. the only reason why you didn’t bring it up to him was because he’d persuade you to wait like he always does. saying, “you should finish college first and get a steady job”. and you’d always respond with the same words, “i don’t need a steady job! you and your brothers make a great amount of money and my parents wouldn’t mind helping out at all!” and thus the small argument would start.

so today you decided to take matters into your own hands. it’s not like chris didn’t want a baby, you weren’t forcing him to have a child he would disregard. he adores babies and you two have had countless conversations about the names you’d give ‘em, how many you want, what’d they look like. in all honesty, you think he’s just a little scared. but his ego’s too big for him to admit it, so he instead turns it around to you, yapping about college and money.

he stares at you for a while, taking in this part of you that will never be the same again. he chuckles to himself lowly. smiling, you look down. “what?”

“nothin’, it’s just funny that you picked today to do this. almost like you’ve been planning it for a while.” he wiggles his eyebrows even though you can’t see him well. you rub his shoulder, slightly wrapping your legs around his calves. “wow. you’re gunna be a mommy and i’m gunna be a daddy.” he exhales, really taking it in. you nod with an excited grin on your glistening face.

@leah-loves-lilies @imtalkinnonsense @star-sturn @junnniiieee07 @mattsneezing @freshloveee@freshsturns@emma4eva @r6diosturns @matthasmywholeheart @donthugmeimhot @blahbel668 @chrissturnsss @joanofarcily @mattscoquette @slutsturn @sturnioloremarker @ashley9282828 @jnkvivi @sturncakez @lanasturn @riasturns @st7rnioioss @strnlxlqve

#this was obviously not posted on father’s day lol #but that’s bc one of my babies wanted it rn 😘#chris sturniolo #chris sturniolo fluff #the sturniolo triplets #sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo x reader #𝓬𝓱𝓻𝓲𝓼 𝓼𝓽𝓾𝓻𝓷𝓲𝓸𝓵𝓸

124 notes · View notes

crazylittlejester · 1 day

Text

The large swan just sat there staring at him, and Time couldn’t help but stare right back. He was fighting very hard not to laugh at how utterly ridiculous the whole situation was, but here was his brother, with a little blue scarf around his neck, in the form of a swan.

“And this…” Time paused to clear his throat, not breaking eye contact with Warriors. “And this happened how?”

“He touched my crystal,” Twilight answered miserably, throwing his head into his hands. “I tried to tell him not to but it was too late.”

Warriors waddled forwards and Time had to bite his tongue. The poor captain was clearly not at all used to his new form, and moving around looked very awkward for him. Time didn’t think he’d ever seen a bird look so pissed before in his life, it was incredible how expressive Warriors was without the ability to actually frown and put his hands on his hips like he so often did on a normal day. When he was a normal hylian. Like he should be right now.

“And we don’t know where Sky or the others are?” Time asked the rancher, reaching out towards Warriors and snatching his hand back when the swan hissed at him. “That wasn’t very nice, Captain.”

Warriors gave him a look that said, “I’m going to bite you if you don’t shut the fuck up.”

And that was completely fair.

“No, we have no idea where Sky or the others are, he’s stuck like this,” the rancher sighed, face still buried.

Warriors was not very happy to hear that, he spread his wings and waddled towards Twilight making very angry noises.

“Don’t attack Twilight, it’s not his fault,” Time scolded when Warriors started trying to bite at the rancher’s boots. In hindsight he really should’ve anticipated that what he said was only an invitation for the bird to come at him.

Twilight groaned, peaking between his fingers at their brother as he stomped around making little sounds. “At least you look great, Wars, lovin’ the scarf, buddy.”

The swan did not look amused, and Time was starting to feel a bad for poor Warriors. Without Sky and the master sword they had no way of turning him back; for the foreseeable future, the captain was stuck as a swan.

#inflicting my crack fics upon the world #this would NOT leave me the fuck alone and I wrote it while on call with my friend #linked universe #linkeduniverse #lu warriors #lu wars #swan wars au #jes talks #jes fic #jes mini fic

132 notes · View notes

moonstruckme · 19 hours

Note

hiii i would love a tasm! peter where reader has just moved out of home for the first time and is feeling a bit lonely! peter comes over and keeps them company, maybe they make dinner or have a movie night :)

Thanks for requesting lovely!

cw: reader deals with loneliness

tasm!Peter Parker x fem!reader ♡ 753 words

You open your door to the smell of smoke. Instantly you beeline towards the kitchen, worried you’d left the stove on or your new apartment came with some faulty wiring, but you find yourself blocked at the threshold. A tall figure steps into your way.

“Please don’t—”

You gasp and jump at the same time, up and back, and Peter has to grab your arms to keep you from tripping over the couch.

“Freak out,” he finishes. He grins as he rights you, eyes light with amusement. “Sorry, there were probably better ways to do that.”

“Fuck,” you sigh, bending and setting your hands on your knees. “Peter, what the hell? How did you get in here?”

“You left your window unlocked.” Peter lets you go, holding his hands aloft for a second to make sure you don’t topple before stepping back. “Super not safe, by the way. I’m not the only person in New York who knows how to climb a fire escape.”

You shake your head, baffled, before remembering your original concern. “Are you burning something?”

He winces. “Not intentionally.”

You raise your eyebrows and move past him, into your kitchen. Peter follows behind.

“It’s out,” he assures you. You spot a smoldering dish in the sink, the charred remains of what you suppose was once food submerged in cold water. At least the smoke seems to be thin, clinging to the ceiling and drifting slowly out your open kitchen window. “I thought I could be fancy and make something, but, uh, reinforcements have been called.”

You turn. “Reinforcements?”

Peter grins sheepishly. “Pizza.”

A little laugh sputters out of you, and his grin softens around the edges.

“Can I get a hug?” he asks.

You step forward willingly, the remainders of the day’s exhaustion seeping out of you as Peter wraps his arms tightly around your shoulders. You squeeze his middle in return, resting your cheek on his chest and wishing stupidly that you could fall asleep just like this.

“What’re you doing here?” you ask.

“What do you mean?” Peter’s tone is teasing, but it’s still a bit gentler than usual, mushy fond. “Where else would I be? You thought you could move to Staten Island and get away from me?”

“It’s kind of far,” you admit.

“You’re delusional. You don’t get to have an apartment all by yourself, you’re stuck with me and my mooching forever. This is our new apartment.”

“Really?” you ask, though the words have happiness and affection sprouting to life in your chest. When you’d moved here on your own, you’d figured it would seem empty without your family but you hadn’t known how much you would feel it. You like the freedom, having control of your own schedule and how you decorate and which things go in the dishwasher, but you miss having people around. It’s been so easy to fall into a routine characterized by solitude, with nothing but work to make you leave the apartment and no one to keep you company when you’re home. “You gonna pay rent?”

Peter squishes his cheek into the top of your head. Unbeknownst to you, he’s picked up on all of this. You’ve been calling him more since you’d moved in here, late at night and in the middle of the day. He’s gotten the sense you just want to talk to someone. He’s always happy to be that someone, but sometimes the phone doesn’t cut it. The trip from Queens to Staten Island isn’t a short one, but he’s going to be making it more often. He’s missed seeing you, your sweet face and the way your eyes crackle when you look at him.

He pulls back, and they’re doing it now. You’re smiling at Peter like he’s the best thing you’ve seen all week, which is very flattering, but it seems like a low bar.

“I’m thinking I’ll pay thirty percent of utilities,” he says. “Sound fair?”

“Totally fair,” you agree, rolling your eyes.

He grins. “Perfect. You’re getting a great deal, here, sweetheart. I’m already providing pizza and a movie.”

Your eyebrows raise. “A movie?”

Peter goes to your couch, whipping up the DVD case. “Yup. Blu-ray.”

You’re smiling so big he can see all your teeth, but you shake your head. “Oh, Peter.”

“What?”

“I just moved in here. Why would you think I had a DVD player?”

Peter’s head rolls back, an odd breath leaving him that’s half sigh, half laugh. “I guess that’s another thing I’m getting you, huh?”

115 notes · View notes

kedsandtubesocks · 2 days

Text

Satoru Gojo appears out of thin air before you, blocking your path. The smuggest most annoying grin dances on his face. You glare at him.

“Yo.” He beams.

“Don’t you have assignments to work on?” Huffing, you walking around him.

“Come on! Didn’t you miss our meetings like this?” Gojo pouts. You flat out reply no and he sobs dramatically.

“Didn’t you hear? I got married a few weeks ago.” Gojo says bright and excited, walking in step with you.

“Oh? Congratulations. I’m sorry for the poor soul that got stuck with you.” You deadpan.

“Rude!” He exclaims horrified. You dully glare at him.

“Oh wait? Are you perhaps jealous?” Twirling on his heels, Gojo keeps his covered gaze on you now. He practically walks backwards like the show off strongest sorcerer he is and smirks unbearably smug.

“I’m not.” You steadily reply. “I’m happy for you.”

“I’ll have to let my husband know.” You add. He gasps incredibly loud.

“Husband?! You have a husband?!” Gojo screams.

You shush him, a hissing reprimand. There were others still here at the school trying to work.

“So what’s he like, huh, huh?!” He inquires eagerly.

“Someone who can kick your ass.” You tell him simply approaching the assistants offices.

Gojo barks a bright incredulous laugh. “Really now? I’d like to see that fight.”

One of the newer assistants warmly greets you as you hand her your paperwork for the week. Thanking her, you ignore how Gojo practically swarms around you pestering for more information about your husband.

The assistant blinks a bit confused turning to you with a confused smile.

“Um, have a good rest of your day Gojo-san.” Nodding brief, she bids you goodbye.

You can’t even nod back before a lanky arm snakes around your shoulder, and in a blink you’re gone. When you arrive teleported to a high rooftop, you shriek smacking at Gojo’s arm.

“You can’t keep doing that! We have work to do, Satoru!”

“I still wanna hear about that husband of yours.” He says amused sliding his black blindfold up to reveal his crystal sky blue eyes that twinkle.

“Won’t have much to say because I’m actually thinking about divorcing him soon if he doesn’t stop bothering me!” You hiss.

“Aw!” Gojo sobs. “Why can’t you just let me enjoy newlywed bliss?!”

You’re about to open your mouth about how he very much already throughly enjoyed all the newlywed bliss, when suddenly his large warm hands slide up your cheeks. Satoru draws your face to his.

He kisses you with the most delicate tenderness, like you might flutter away from his grasp at any moment. You instantly melt into him. These soft kisses really are beautiful reminders of how your soul is so irreversibly bonded to this headache.

“Get back to work Satoru,” you sigh against his lips.

“Yeah, yeah.” He huffs drawing back with a pout. He’s too handsome for his own good. So maybe wanting one last goodbye for yourself, you pull him down for a deep kiss. Greedily, he drags you close.

“Let’s go mess around in my office.” Satoru mutters dark, and you laugh a bright no.

“Fine.” He groans defeated. In a blink, you’re teleported back in the walkway. Before he pulls his blindfold down, Satoru winks at you.

“See ya at home, Gojo-san.” With the biggest pride shimmering bright in his eyes, your husband grins disappearing into the wind.

#i’m sorry I just had to write this down & I’m so sorry it’s messy and I’m a bit rusty - but oh man… Him™️#tagging as long post just in case #long post #Gojo 🩵

90 notes · View notes

mysteria157 · 1 day

Text

Moment Two: Your Daughter's First Pair

Rating: Mature

Pairing: Nanami Kento x Black Fem Reader

CW: fluff, profanity (not really), sexual suggestion, slight angst (very minimal).

Word Count: ~3.4k

Summary: Nanami joins you and your daughter for a family tradition, but he may not be as strong as he thinks.

Set in the It Had To Be You universe but you don't need a lot of backstory to follow along.

Notes: This was a random thought that I had based on something that has always been a thing in my family that I wanted to write out. There is nothing significant about this, I have not written Nanami in a LONG time, so I'm trying to warm myself up again. I am so rusty but I'm using fleeting moments of inspiration and taking advantage of it.

Likes, reblogs, and comments are always welcome! Happy reading!

Divider: @saradika | Header: myself

MINORS DNI

“You don’t need to hold her so tight.”

“I’m protecting her.”

“And what am I, a goat?”

He raises a brow at your jest, autumn wheat and elegant but nonetheless annoyed as he glares at you. He doesn’t mean it, you know that—it’s all nerves.

“Ken, we don’t have to do this you know? If you’re against the idea, we can wait a few more years.”

“I’m not against it,” he reassures you, adjusting your daughter in his arms. Ulani babbles up at him, her chubby hands digging into a sharply cut cheekbone. He carries on without complaint, already used to her behavior. “This is a tradition, and I understand it but…”

You turn a key chain in one hand, your thumb smoothing along the glittery face of a dog—or is it a cat? The rack is filled with key chains of different colors, animals and objects, bringing back memories of middle school when you would drag your best friend Omelia into this same store in Sendai before it closed down. Despite the many years that have passed, the store chain still has its subtle hues of purples and pinks, earrings punched through purple cardboard paper, pens with wonky erasers, and headbands of different designs.

“But what?” you try to finish for him, smiling up at his nervous form as he lets Ulani talk to him in her own baby language.

Kento pulls in a deep breath as if to steel his nerves and prepare for the inevitable. He’s praying to whoever will listen, trying to use every coping mechanism in the book. He’s wearing jeans that hug his fit thighs and a dark blue short sleeve that shows too much bicep for your liking (you should give him a dress code). There are only so many single and married women and men that you can glare at in a day, and the redhead over by the register is pushing it.

“Will it hurt her?” your boyfriend’s low timber pulls you back, filled with apprehension, and he keeps mahogany eyes on his daughter to avoid showing you just how scared he is. You rub his back to soothe him, tracing the bands of muscle that are tense behind the soft fabric.

“I-I’m worried.”

“And you shouldn’t be. It’s a simple thing, lasts two seconds. Just like when she got her first shots.”

That’s not enough for him, because now Kento furrows his eyebrows in frustration, bouncing his daughter in his arms to entertain her and also soothe himself. “There are a lot of things to consider. The risk of infection. Rejection. What if she hates them? What if they get caught on her clothes? Or her curls? Or—”

“Are we ready?” one of the employee’s sing songs from behind you both, walking towards the singular chair perched against the glass wall of the store.

“I—” Kento croaks, clearing his throat and swallowing loudly. He looks down at you. “Are we?”

In the time you’ve known him, you’ve only seen Kento visibly nervous a handful of times. That stoic demeanor is a smooth, stone-like shell to everyone else besides family and close friends, but you know the weak spots and have glimpsed into the fragmented sections only visible to your eyes. Right now, he’s nervous and fearful beyond belief. That all encompassing love and attention that he shows you from sunup to sundown extends to his daughter as well. If there is one person besides you, who can make Nanami Kento show his emotions freely and without reservation no matter the date, place, or time, it’s Ulani.

“How about you hold her?” you suggest and give him a small push towards the black chair. Two employees work at the small kiosk next to him, unwrapping sterile materials and cotton swabs. Kento’s eyes watch every movement, searching for any sign of threat that can give him the ammunition to take his daughter and never come back. You can practically hear his thoughts:

“Is that up to code?”

“How long has that been sealed?”

“What is the name of the manufacturer so that I can ensure it’s reputable?”

Your roll your own eyes, knowing how right you might be.

When you found out your pediatrician would be on her own maternity leave, you let Kento research every establishment in Tokyo until he found one in Shibuya. Reputable, good reviews, and well-practiced in this procedure.

Of course, you’re nervous too. She’s your daughter, a combination of you and Kento, conceived from a very drunken night of disdain but grown out of eventual love and adoration. The thought of her crying in pain makes that maternal part of you flare with anger and the consuming need to protect her forever. But you’ve prepared for this for awhile.

Kento? Not so much.

“Is that clean?” your boyfriend asks one of the employees, clutching his daughter a little tighter. It’s a little rude, but the employee smiles at him in a way that conveys understanding of his trepidation. This isn’t their first rodeo.

“Completely sterile from the package. I promise she’s in great hands.” Deep eyes free of steampunk-esque glasses flicker up at her in doubt, but he simply sniffs and looks back to his daughter instead to withhold a scathing remark. “How about one of us on each side, and we do it at once?” she suggests, addressing him directly. It helps, as he gives her a somber but curt nod.

He situates Ulani in his arms so she’s sitting fully on his lap, his large hands holding her up with a slight tremble. The sight is enough to remind you again that this is new territory for him. What has always been a normal tradition for you and the other females in your life, is a foreign concept for him.

Ear piercings are a milestone in a young girl’s life. You got yours as a baby, and so did your mother. Omelia got hers as a baby, as did all her female cousins, as did her mother and the mother before her. If you interacted with your mother’s side of the family, then maybe you would know if your cousins also did the same.

But that’s another thought for another time, and you refuse to let painful memories tarnish what should be a memory you are crafting on your own, right now.

You step closer and run your hands through thick blond locks that are free of gel. You brush the strands from his forehead, letting the soft texture slip past your fingertips as he relaxes instantly. With his place in his chair, he’s at the perfect height to rest his head on your stomach, and he does so a second later.

One of his hands brushes light brown curls from his daughters ears. You can feel the unease radiating from him with every deep breath he takes, and you scratch that spot at his nape that makes him shudder, hoping it will help.

The muscles in Kento’s neck bunch together instead when one of the employee’s leans toward Ulani to make marks in deep purple, and even your own stomach turns in response at what’s to come.

“Okay, we will do this on three. How’s that sound honey?” one of the employees coos at your daughter. Ulani, who is a carbon copy of her father, stares up at her, observant and sinking into her daddy before offering a gummy smile. “She’s so pretty.”

“She’s beautiful,” Kento corrects, slightly rough but still appreciative of the compliment. “Aren’t you, my dove?”

He tickles her side and offers a rare chuckle as she squeals up at him, wiggling in her father’s embrace. The sight makes your heart do flips because this is your world, day in and day out. Just you, Kento, and the person you’ve created together.

You step around to squat in front of him so you’re eye level with your daughter, a hand coming up to wiggle the toes covered in a tan sock. Her eyes catch you immediately, and she holds your gaze long enough for the two employees to position themselves on each side of her.

Kento holds his breath.

“Alright, here we go. One. Two. Three.”

They both move in sync, pressing down on the plastic gun so the studs slide through the soft lobe of Ulani’s lower ears. Kento’s eyebrows furl together immediately. Ulani’s eyes widen for a second before her face contorts, her mouth opening in a silent cry. Your heart hammers and your chest tightens in an sudden flood of sadness and desperation that crashes against you like a tumultuous wave when Ulani takes one heaving breath in….

And screams.

His reaction is quick. Kento bounces one leg at a tempo that alarms you, his handsome face flying through different stages of grief, anger, and pain as he watches the employees adjust the diamond earrings to ensure they heal without complication. His mouth opens and closes, jaw grinding to keep his rudeness in check, because you know what he wants to say.

He was the same way when she got her shots; all glares and sharp stares at everyone else because they were the source of her discomfort. But like that time before, you are the cooling balm for his hot anger as you wiggle your daughters toes and murmur soothing words at her, to show him that she’s going to be just fine.

“It’s okay, baby,” you smile softly and it’s enough to capture her attention even though she’s squealing and crying from the sharp but quick pain in her ears. But all too quickly, you’re not enough for her, because the daughter that you carried for almost ten months turns away and reaches for her father, crying loudly in his arms. It’s a sting that you prepared for, but nonetheless hurts with a severity that takes a few seconds for you to recover from.

By the time you pay one of the employees and exit the store, Ulani has already calmed down. Kento digs into the diaper bag on his shoulder and pulls out a cotton cloth, wiping her nose as she sniffles and whines into his shoulder.

“I know honey, I know,” he coos to her, wiping the tears from her light brown skin and swaying back and forth. “But you were so strong, weren’t you? Hmm? A lot stronger than me.”

He pulls her away from his neck, smiling softly at her, and that one smile makes your chest bloom with satisfaction. It’s times like these that remind you how your life has surprisingly fallen into place. Who would have thought that the man who used to drive you insane would be the only one fit for you?

That small twinge of hurt you felt minutes ago when Ulani turned away from you resurfaces, but reassurance cools it’s prickly edges. Even though this is a moment you may have been more connected with, it’s Kento who feels the painful side of it a lot more.

So you give him his own moment. You watch quietly as he kisses her chubby cheeks repeatedly, smiling into her skin at the giggles that leave her. You fall into the hum of the world around you as you watch him tuck away the cotton cloth and smooth the curls away from Ulani’s ears, finally admiring the diamonds that twinkle on each side. The lobes will be red for a few days, but for Ulani, she will never think of them again until she’s old enough to pay attention. Until she’s old enough to change them out to match the outfits she decides to wear, different colors and gemstones, and multiples if she ever has a streak of expression in her teenage years. Like you did.

Kento finally looks down at you, chestnut browns sparkling as he takes you in from head to toe. The harsh Shibuya sun beats down on bustling city square, but the rays are soft when they touch him. Tan skin is illuminated gold on his cheekbones, his hair luminous in the sun. You reach up to run a hand through his locks for the second time this afternoon, your heart still not used to the incessant hammering that arises when he leans into your touch.

You lift an accusatory eyebrow at him and hold back a chuckle when you speak. “Our daughter was the soldier this afternoon, and yet I’m coddling you?”

“Keep coddling,” he demands, voice tinged with mirth as he turns to place a kiss inside of your palm and then leans back into your stroking. “Today was very painful for me, have you no shame?”

You snort and dig your nails into his scalp in retaliation, enjoying the groan that rumbles in the air from your ministrations. “Don’t blame this one moment on your entire day. You had a great run, remember?”

“My slowest three mile run yet.” Quick on the draw, and you already know where this is going. Kento rarely complains, but when he does, it is about the most trivial things as a means to get and keep your attention.

“You made me pancakes this morning.”

“Not my best work. Too much cinnamon in the batter.”

“We made out two hours ago?”

“Ulani woke from her nap and interrupted what would have been a very enjoyable afternoon.” That complaint leaves his mouth in a grumble, and you purse your lips to hold off the laughter that sits in the back of your throat. He’s truly pouting, and god do you love him.

“And now seeing your daughter cry from her first ear piercing was icing on the cake of a bad day, I imagine?”

“Exactly.”

You finally giggle and playfully pull a strand of his hair. He narrows his eyes at you, mischievous yet still carrying that ingrained indifference that you know and love. Ulani shrieks in his arms, finally past her blip of crying and now ready for her parent’s attention. You take in her drool of a smile, slightly red ears, and brown onesie-dress, and the possibilities flood your mind. It’s…very overwhelming when the thoughts hit you: how she will grow into herself, develop her personality, her wants and desires, her hobbies and her dreams.

“Pay attention to me,” he interrupts your thoughts, and you can’t help the bark of laughter that you give him in response. Ulani mimics you, completely oblivious.

“You’re such a baby, and we have a baby,” you tease, snorting at his level expression and dusty cheeks, slightly shy but absorbing your presence. “You and Ulani have had it rough today. So how about a reward?” You look to your daughter when you ask, knowing damn well she has no idea what you’re saying but you want to include her anyway.

“How about frozen yogurt?” I.e., the unsweetened applesauce in the diaper bag for Ulani and matcha-flavored frozen yogurt for Kento from a favorite vendor a few blocks away. It’s an obsession of his that’s been appearing in the freezer with numbing regularity.

Kento remains unphased by your suggestion, though his lips twitch with the desire to smirk down at you.

“Seeing our daughter in pain was more heartbreaking than I thought. Food may not help, I’m afraid.”

Kento is milking his “pain” at this point, and you’re far too in love with him not to entertain the idea you know is floating in his head. You love this about him, just how playful he is when it comes to you.

“You’re a tough nut to crack.” You tap your chin as if you’re thinking hard, humming in contemplation. “How about…” you trail off, a hand sliding up a muscular bicep before massaging his nape again, relishing in the shudder he gives in response, his eyes twitching to hold back the urge to roll into his head in satisfaction. “Since you’ve suffered so much today…we can go home…and I’ll do that thing you like.”

You have the privilege and skill of being able to read Nanami Kento like a book. You don’t miss the glee that dances across his features—the uptick of one side of his mouth, the slow brow lift, the darkening of his irises. He knows exactly what that thing is. You’re pretty good at it—a master at it—and he made you promise that the day he ever turns that thing down, is the day you can leave him.

His cheeks explode in blush, jaw ticking before he clears his throat and smooths a sweaty hand down the dark blue of his shirt.

“I see,” he ponders, looking up to the sky as if in deep thought, and you know if you roll your eyes again, they’ll get stuck. “Well.” He situates Ulani in his arms and presses a few kisses to her cheek again to pull those giggles from her that you both love. “Who am I to deny your mother?” he suggests to his daughter. “Not a moment to waste, Ulani.”

“You’ve got to be kidding—”

“Quickly, before you change your mind.” He slides a hand to the small of your back as a means to hurry you along, pressing softly and turning you in the direction of the car.

You try to bat his hands away from you, giggles growing in volume as he dodges all your attempts to get rid of him. “I’m not going to change my mind, Ken—”

“Quickly.”

He takes your hand and you let him pull you, beaming at his back as he increases his pace. Ulani is happy as can be in her father’s arms and babbling as he talks softly to her.

“A snack before nap time sounds good, doesn’t it? What kind of applesauce would you like today?” She gurgles. “Cinnamon again? Hmmm, we should always try new things, Dove. What about the strawberry ones I bought you yesterday?” A squeal. “Strawberry it is. I think…”

The rest of their conversation fades into the background as you walk with them, warmth coursing through your veins with each step. It’s a warmth that catches you off guard, but has been ever present since Ulani’s birth. And you love every bit of how it feels. How it flows through you with every breath you take. How it only grows every minute, every hour, every day that you create a life with them.

After Ulani is buckled in her car seat and you slide your seat belt into its latch, Kento leans across the armrest, a warm hand sliding against your cheek in a gentle caress before he slants his lips against yours. It’s a surprise, but the shock dies as quickly as it forms as you melt into his touch—full lips that know your own and soft blonde locks brushing your face.

That affection that he pulls from you every day is given back in this moment—freely and without restraint—in the parking lot of Claire’s in Shibuya, where your daughter got her ears pierced for the first time.

When he pulls away and whispers his love for you against your lips, you repeat it back to him without thinking. It’s a motion that you both carry out whenever you can.

“No more piercings. My heart will probably give out.”

“Do you feel better?” you ask in a tone that is filled with the teasing nature that sticks to you like a second skin.

He loves it, but doesn’t take the bait, and instead kisses your lips again, each cheek, and the tip of your nose. “I will soon.” The innuendo is so obvious you can taste it. He’s been with you too long to be a blushing and awkward man. “Once Ulani is asleep.” You push him away with a giggling huff and savor the deep chuckle that falls from his lips, permeating the air of the car.

As Kento drives through the crowded streets towards your shared home in Nakameguro, the hand not on the steering wheel envelops yours, a thumb stroking the skin of your palm. You look out the window and observe the colors and cars that zoom by, and the sound of a deep breath behind you makes you look back. And when you do, your heart gives a painful but welcoming lurch as you gaze at her. Your daughter already asleep, her head dipping to the side—curly locks askew and sticking to the drool on her face, and her new diamond earrings shining back at you.

Thanks for reading!

120 notes · View notes