#and if i pulled this shit on him there would be bloodshed

[marchworm]

cant have a funeral without a body amiright

continuation of this

[edenesth]

The General's Wife

Pairing: military general!Seonghwa x wife!reader

Word Count: 1117 words (I'd normally put it as 1.1k but uwu)

'Crazy Form' Comeback Special Series | Hongjoong | Seonghwa | Yunho | Yeosang | San | Mingi | Wooyoung | Jongho |

ATEEZ Masterlist

"Ooh, what's a pretty little thing like you doing in a place like this?"

You sighed, wondering when these men would ever learn. It wasn't your first time paying this bar a visit; they should know better by now to not mess with you.

Pushing your drink aside, you turned to look at the brave soul who was stupid enough to put his hand on your shoulder. He smirked when you remained quiet, "You're a shy one, aren't you? No worries, I can make things more fun for you."

The men around him were muttering fearfully amongst themselves, wide-eyed, "Does that fool really not have a single clue who he's dealing with?"

You shrugged off his hand and felt sorry for him, "Oh dear, I pity you." Confused, he followed your gaze as you showed him an emblem you'd pulled out from your pocket. His heart nearly stopped when he finally realised who you were.

"Y-you're... shit, you're the general's wife."

You winced, realising those might be his last words, especially when you saw your husband walking into the bar.

Seonghwa halted just behind the man, fixing an intense glare on his vulnerable back. In a voice that sent shivers down spines, he growled, "Have you grown tired of living, soldier? If you're looking for dumb ways to die, consider today your lucky day."

The man visibly trembled as he turned around slowly to face his superior, falling to his knees in fear, "G-General Park! I swear, I d-didn't know she was your wife—"

A resounding smack cut off his sentence as a powerful backhand slap connected with his face, sending him sprawling to the ground.

You gave a subtle shake of your head, silently urging Seonghwa not to escalate the situation. However, your plea proved futile as your husband, with a wink in your direction, assured you, "Don't worry, my love. I won't be too harsh on him. I'll give him just enough punishment to ensure he understands never to lay a hand on my wife again."

Despite his comforting words, you knew better than anyone those were lies. The man probably wouldn't see the light of day again. Beneath the sweet exterior he reserved for you, your husband harboured a ruthless side, a quality that propelled him quickly up the military ranks, earning him a formidable reputation.

Before becoming your husband, General Park Seonghwa was a fearsome military commander, striking fear into almost everyone. Uninterested in academics or any other pursuit, he was a natural-born warrior. At the mere age of 12, he knew he was destined to be the god of war.

However, amidst the battlefield and bloodshed, there was one thing he treasured above all else – you. His first and only love; he stumbled upon you in your backyard, clandestinely wielding your brother's sword in an attempt to learn self-defence when no one else would teach you. A noble lady yearning for more than a mundane life.

At first glance, he knew you were special.

Seonghwa vowed to make you his wife someday, and he did. Not one to follow rules, he sneaked into your backyard one day, scaring the daylights out of you. With sharp critiques, he pointed out the flaws in your stance, inadvertently teaching you enough to defend yourself.

In short, love blossomed before you discovered that he was none other than the renowned General Park, the King's most trusted warrior leading the royal army. When he sought your hand in marriage, your parents were more than delighted to see their only daughter assume the esteemed title of the general's wife.

Due to Seonghwa's crucial role in the kingdom, he frequently found himself deployed to battle whenever political tensions arose between Wonderland and neighbouring nations.

Despite his repeated warnings, you always made the journey to his war sites to be with him. During your visits, much like the current one, many of his inexperienced men, unaware of the situation, would mistake you for a lost civilian in a war zone and foolishly attempt to make advances.

Now, this unfortunate man, like those before him, would meet his end before having the chance to serve his country—all because he couldn't keep his hands to himself.

You were escorted out of the dimly lit bar before you could witness what your husband's right-hand man did to the poor bastard. Whatever it was, you knew it would be far from pretty. To distract you from the unsettling thoughts, Seonghwa wrapped his arm around you and kissed you hard.

Pressing a hand against his chest, your attempts to push him away were useless. He was well aware of your shyness, with his men watching and all, but that was his intention. He needed these fools to understand that you were his woman.

Sensing your discomfort, your husband gently cupped your cheeks, pulling back slightly to assure you, "It's alright, darling. I'm here. No one will dare touch you again. You trust me, don't you?" Without hesitation, you nodded; there was no one in the world you trusted more than him.

His heart melted at how swollen your lips looked, and he couldn't resist pressing his lips softly against yours once more.

With a self-assured smirk, he withdrew slowly, his arm securely wrapped around your waist. He turned to cast a cold gaze at the men who instantly cowered under his scrutiny, "What are you imbeciles standing around for? Don't you recognise who this is?"

They gasped and immediately straightened up, bowing deeply before offering salutes in your direction, "Welcome to the base, Lady Park!"

You acknowledged their greeting with a nod, and with an elegant wave of your hand, they finally dared to disperse. It was an unspoken rule that everyone under your husband's command had no choice but to follow. Those who defied these rules deserved nothing less than severe consequences.

As you nestled into Seonghwa's temporary quarters that night, a comforting warmth enveloped your heart as he drew you close in bed. Planting a tender kiss on your head, he asked, "My love, do you ever regret marrying me?"

Given your dislike for violence, it was truly ironic that you found yourself wed to a military general, of all people. He often wondered how a refined lady like you could fall for a man of his rough demeanour.

Before his thoughts could linger, you gently cupped his jaw, compelling him to meet your gaze, "Never. I want no one else but you." The intensity in your eyes conveyed a steadfast conviction, reminding him you were different from other women.

Indeed, you were special.

After all, you were the only woman audacious enough to capture the intimidating General Park Seonghwa's heart.

Would you believe me if I told you this man isn't my ultimate bias? Yeah, me neither. He wrecked me so bad this comeback, I'm barely recovering. Y'all stay safe tho lmfao.

Anyway, thank you for reading and hope you enjoyed! As always, let me know your thoughts! <3

Tag list: @aurasblue @marievllr-abg @itsvxlentine @minghaoslatina

All Rights Reserved © edenesth // DO NOT REPOST, TRANSLATE, PLAGIARISE OR REPURPOSE.

[a-small-writer-in-a-big-world]

Your Friendly Neighbor

Pairing: John “Soap” Mactavish x introvert!reader

Warnings: slight angst, fluff, horrible Scottish (I tried), Soap mainly goes by John

Words: 3k

Synopsis: Soap comes home from leave and realizes he has a new neighbor…

Based off this post by @fortunatelyuniquepeach check it out. basically just Soap with an introverted/shy/maybe social anxiety reader

You are currently reading part one

Soap didn’t particularly like going back home when he was on leave. 

Nothing was wrong with the neighborhood he lived in, in fact, it was picture perfect compared to the shit he’s seen in the countries he’s been deployed to. The neighbors were nice to him whenever he was home, especially since it was a very small neighborhood with only a handful of people living in it, rent was affordable and the place wasn’t falling apart, and the neighborhood was quite beautiful as well as quiet. 

For most people, this was their dream place of living. A good neighborhood to bring up a family and perhaps get away from the everyday stress that was life; being surrounded by kind people and the ability to walk to a few local pubs without issue, sounded like it was straight out of a fairytale. A lot of people would kill to live in a place like this.

Soap hated it.

He didn’t hate the people who lived around him, don’t mistake him, but the lack of movement and noise cut through him more than any bullet could. He was used to the chaos of a battlefield, used to the violence of war that killed men without mercy and the constant bloodshed that surrounded him. 

The apple pie life just wasn’t who he was anymore.

He always told himself that he didn’t belong in the calm and quiet life of normalcy and believed that it wasn’t for him either, not after what he’s seen. He belonged on the battlefield, covered in someone else’s blood.

“John, you’ve been working out here all morning!” Ms. Brown, one of Soap’s elderly neighbors who watched his flat for him when he was gone, scolded him as she stepped out on her porch. “You just got back.”

“I’m almost done.” Soap smiled up at her as he wiped the sweat from his brow. 

He was dirty from the sweat and grass covering him from having mowed her entire lawn the moment he had put his things down in his flat. He had been too worked up and wired from work still but her lawn needed to be done, so instead of taking the rest he needed, he went to work.

“I’ll get your money.” Ms. Brown said and he quickly shook his head.

“S’alright-”

Ms. Brown was gone before he could even finish his sentence and he couldn’t help but frown as he realized that he was going to be forced to accept money he didn’t want. He could never try to justify “stealing” money from an old woman even after he decided to become an impromptu landscaper.

He sighed, wiping the sweat off his face with his shirt before he pulled the lawnmower into the garage. He tried his hardest to clean himself up while sweeping the grass off the pathway, but the cut blades stuck to him like glue no matter how many times he tried to shake off his clothes or smack it off his hands.

Soap would’ve used the hose to wash himself, and nearly did, if he hadn’t been distracted by a car driving by. Normally he wouldn’t have thought anything of it but the car turned into the driveway of the flat that was right next to his, the one that hadn’t had anyone living in it the entire time he's lived in his flat.

He had a new neighbor.

He was expecting someone much older than you, since almost the entire neighborhood was made up of the elderly, but when you stepped out of the car he couldn’t help but stare at you with wide eyes.

You were young, probably the same age as him, and quite good looking, though he was just more focused on the fact that someone had moved in beside him and he didn’t even know. 

You were oblivious to him as you walked to the back of your car and opened the trunk. You began to pull out groceries, stacking as many of them on your arms as you can, and dropped them on your doorstep. You were trying to make it one trip, but there were just too many and before Soap had even realized it, he was crossing the street. Before he knew it he was standing behind you.

“When’d ye move in?” He greeted you a little loudly.

You nearly dropped the groceries in your hands as you stared at him with wide eyes. You took him in, looking at the sweat and grease stains covering his clothes along with the mass amounts of grass stuck to him, including in the shaggy mohawk that sat on top of his head.

You looked uncertain and caught off guard especially as he leaned closer to you.

He couldn’t help it. He was too curious for his own good and up this close he could see how beautiful you really were. He tried not to stare, he could see you glancing away from him awkwardly as if you were trying to find a way out of the sudden conversation you were put in, but he was strangely enamored by you.

You opened your mouth a few times trying to find the right words to say as he waited patiently for you to say something.

“...Last week?” You answered in a soft tone as you stared at him.

“Oh, well I’m yer neighbor right next to ya.” He gestured to the other flat. “We share a wall, I just got back this mornin’, must’ve been after you left.”

You nodded as he continued to explain how he could’ve missed you this morning, though you weren’t catching most of it. In fact, you were having a hard time understanding what exactly he was saying and you could only catch a few words here and there, making it so you had to piece together what he was saying.

You stood there and shifted on your feet as you glanced at your flat a few times.

The more he spoke, the more confused you looked but Soap was too caught up in talking to you that he didn’t notice. What he did notice however, was that you were starting to struggle to hold the groceries in your hands so he immediately turned his attention to it.

“Need help?” He offered, gesturing to the groceries in your hands. “Here.”

Before you could really even protest, he took the groceries in your hands, and the rest in your car, and walked towards your front door without struggle. He picked up the ones that you had placed down by the door as well, not at all bothered by the weight of the straps against his skin as he waited for you to let him.

“Do ya like the neighborhood?” He wondered as you came up and unlocked the front door to your flat. 

“It’s nice.” You stepped inside your apartment. “Everyone’s friendly.”

You went to take the groceries back from him but Soap instead stepped inside with a flash of a smile, leaving you staring at him completely dumbfounded. You weren’t particularly looking for a chat, especially when you were still in the moving process.

Soap glanced at all of the boxes still stacked in your flat and the disarray of items strewn across every surface. He didn’t really pay much attention to it as he wandered into the kitchen and set the groceries down on the counters, waiting for you as he took in your flat.

Standing inside your kitchen gave him a strange feeling, a better strange feeling, than his entire flat ever could. Maybe it was because he hadn’t really stepped inside his flat or maybe it was because yours looked far more lived in than his. There was personality, your personality, everywhere and he could just imagine you piddling around making a lot more noise than he ever could by himself.

You’d make lunch and maybe sit in the living room, maybe even put something on the telly while you do it, filling up the empty space with life. How often would you do laundry and does your washer squeak the same way his does when he puts a load in it?

He wasn’t sure why the thought of you doing normal things in your own flat made him feel warm on the inside but he quickly pushed it away when you stepped into the kitchen. 

“I’m sorry about the mess…” You trailed off as you gestured to the many boxes stacked in the kitchen. 

“Movin’s a hassle.” He dismissed you, completely unbothered and in fact feeling more happy about it than anything else.

Soap expected you to say something but you didn’t. He watched as you stood in front of him while you fidgeted with your keys between your fingers while you awkwardly avoided eye contact with him. The silence dragged on and expected you to do something about it, to start unloading your groceries to where they needed to be but you shifted on your feet as if you were debating on doing it.

He watched you for a moment, not really understanding why you were being so quiet when he finally came to his senses.

The fact that Ms. Brown had failed to mention to him this morning that you had moved in, said enough about how much you spoke to the neighbors so of course you were going to be a little awkward when he had basically barged inside you home to help you, in good faith, when you most likely had just wanted to be alone.

He couldn’t help the slight burning feeling he felt across the back of his neck before he ran a hand through his shaggy mohawk.

“I’m John, by the way.” He outstretched his hand for you to take with a warm smile. “Forgot to introduce myself when I was helping ya.”

You introduced yourself and very hesitantly took his hand to shake. He didn’t squeeze or shake very hard despite the fact that having your softer hand against his making him involuntarily smile as a shiver nearly ran up his spine. 

He definitely didn’t want to scare you off now or make things worse between the two of you when you were going to be neighbors for the foreseeable future. He wasn’t too worried however, if he could make Ghost forgive him for the many times he did the same thing, then he could make it up to you.

“I got excited, ya know? Seeing that I had a new neighbor and forgot that not everyone’s as chatty as me.”

“It’s okay…thank you for helping with the groceries.”

Soap nodded and stopped himself from saying anything else so he could give you the peace you wanted. He went to make his way out of the kitchen, about to give you a goodbye, when his boot connected with a bucket full of water that sat in front of the sink.

His eyebrows knitted together when he looked down to see that there were a bunch of damp towels also sitting on the floor by the sink as well. He crouched down to see that the pipe was in fact broken with a large crack in it.

“I’ve been meaning to call somebody.” You said but Soap tutted and shook his head.

“Ah, no, let me. I’ll pop over, get my tools and fix ya up.” He turned to look at you with a grin without even thinking about it. “Free of charge.”

You chewed on your lip and looked as if you wanted to protest but you didn’t, which made him smile even more.

He rushed over to his flat in no time, unsure of why he was really this eager to help you out, and grabbed his tools. Before you knew it, he was underneath your sink fixing the pipe as if this was his job rather than the heinous shit he has done over the years. 

There was a smile stuck on his face as you put your groceries away while he worked. He wasn’t sure why, even as he chatted your ear off about the neighborhood, not expecting you to reply but not wanting to end the conversation with you. 

The little hums of interest and short replies from you were enough for him to keep him going. He couldn’t help but be reminded of Ghost but you were much different, a lot warmer and less rough around the edges which was more inviting than his lieutenant but not any less interesting to speak to. There was so much he wanted to know about you, so much he wanted to ask but he stopped himself because he didn’t want to overwhelm you.

“Got any friends here yet?” He wondered and peered at you from under the sink.

“I haven’t really had the time.” You looked a little unsure, maybe even embarrassed as you avoided looking at him.

“Well I’ll be around for a little while, so we’ve got plenty of time.”

You stared at him with knitted eyebrows and opened your mouth to say something as he checked to make sure the patch job held up even though he was confident it would. He ran the water in the sink and frowned when it was ice cold against his fingers, sending you a quick disapproving glance as if you had neglected to tell him about it.

“Gonna freeze yourself to death with that.” He shook his head and made his way to the water heater.

“You really don’t have to-”

“You’re off your head for thinking I’ll leave you without hot water.”

Soap was quick with fixing up your water heater and made sure to make it as hot as possible without racking up your bills. Seeing the grateful and relieved look in your eyes when tested the water made his chest warm with pride.

He would’ve stayed to chat your ear off more, he didn’t want this to be the only time he saw you or got to speak with you. He hoped that you wouldn’t close yourself off in your flat or only give him short polite answers if he ever caught you outside, he didn’t want that.

He wanted much more from you, a lot more than just being neighbors who occasionally waved at each other and that was it.

“My work here’s done.” He hid his disappointment behind a wink that made you swallow hard. “For now.”

“Thank you so much.” You gave him a small, but genuine smile that had him staring at your lips for a little longer than he should. “How much do I owe you?”

“Nothin’.”

“I can’t not pay you.”

Soap chuckled and shook his head. There was no way in hell he would ever think to take your money, no matter how pretty you looked when you gave him a pleading look as if you wanted to burn your hard earned cash on something like this. He could tell that you weren’t going to take no as an answer but he was prepared for something like that.

He hummed and asked for a piece of paper and a pen. When you gave him something, he quickly scribbled his number down on it and gave it to you, stifling a laugh when you looked up at him surprised.

“If ya really want to pay me, call me when ya need help or when ya want to chat.” He offered and you stared intensely at the piece of paper. “No sense in keeping yourself lonely ‘specially here, Ms. Brown won’t let ya.”

“Thank you, John.” You smiled again.

Soap wasn’t sure why hearing his name come out of your mouth made him feel…different. He didn’t throw his call sign around in this neighborhood, that’s what everyone here knew him as, and yet the moment the name slipped off your tongue it was like he had been pulled back into reality.

Suddenly he was all too aware of the fact that he hadn’t given himself a break since he got back. Exhaustion pulled on his muscles and on his mind, there was nothing buzzing inside of his mind that told him he had to keep working.

It made him tense up. He didn’t like that, he didn’t want to stop moving, he had to do something or else he was sure he would fall apart at the seams.

“I’ll see you around, hen.” He kept a smile on his face, hiding the knots in his stomach.

Before long he was standing in the middle of his living room, unsure of what to do. 

There was too much quiet in his flat that the noise inside of his head completely took over his senses. It was consuming him every second he stared at the floor while he fidgeted with his fingers as if the stimulation would provide some sort of comfort. 

It choked him, making it harder to breathe as he found himself stuck frozen in his own flat as if something had locked him there to torture him until he would eventually find himself too exhausted to even think anymore. He couldn’t even go into his room to get his journal to write down the endless thoughts running through his mind, the dark and disgusting thoughts that made him feel like a wolf among sheep.

He needed something, anything to keep him from spiraling and yet-

A crash from the other side of the wall and the sound of you cursing to yourself abruptly brought him out of his head.

He blinked a few times, the tension leaving his body as he left out a few deep breaths which filled his lungs with air that seemed to go into his veins and cleanse him of whatever dirtiness that had filled them. 

You made another noise and he looked at your shared wall, imagining that you were most likely unpacking again. You must’ve dropped something and he hoped that it was nothing valuable but he couldn’t have been more grateful for the fact that you had made some kind of noise. 

In fact, the more you moved around in your flat, your footsteps muffled as you walked around, the more at ease he felt because it filled up that dreaded quiet he had come to hate so much. 

He’s not sure how long he stayed there just listening to you, but he was sure he looked like an idiot with the soft smile he had on his face.

Being home didn’t seem too bad anymore.

Link to part 2

A/N: Not my best work but that's okay. This might turn into a mini series? Might make it a three parter who knows. First time really writing for Soap so I'm sorry if he seems a little off character, hopefully I'll get better at him <3

Tags: @cathnoneofyourbusiness @lillianastuff @sofasoap

[lovelyladyabsinthewrites]

Being Kidnapped HC (ft. poly!Mates Bat Boys)

Warnings: I’m on a bat boys kick 🙃 has nothing to do with the fact that i'm missing my ex and now just want a strong male (or three) to take care of me lol, blood mentioned, violence, protective boys, polyamorous, drugged reader (faebane)

Summary: Bat Boys rescue their mate

It’s bound to happen

No matter your own power, there will always be others in Prythian who think kidnapping you will give them some sort of leverage over your winged mates

Others kidnap you to experiment on you. Why is it that the Cauldron gifted you three mates? Many wanted to know what made you different than the other fae who only have one mate

Whatever reason they had, it kept you constantly on your toes when you didn’t have one of the boys by your side.

Even in Velaris you were always on guard. You could never be too careful

Many were close calls where you were able to escape

The worse cases were when the boys had to intervene

One of Az’s shadows always accompanied you everywhere you went. Finding you was never a problem for them. There was nowhere in the world they wouldn’t be able to find you

That always set whatever worry you may have at ease

What you never looked forward to was the bloodshed that would follow

“Just take me back. Take me back and I’m sure you’ll be forgiven.” You’d try to talk your captor out of whatever plan they had in store for you. Give them a chance to change their minds.

Usually that earned you a slap across your face and vile words thrown your way

You’d have no choice but to sit back and attempt once more to pull at your restraints. Faebane still flowed in your system. There was no way you could use your magic, let alone your strength.

No way to telepathically contact your mates because of the Faebane

But you can feel the comforting coiling of Az’s shadow around your wrist

And slowly, the shadowsinger appears in the room you are kept captive

The guards assigned to watch you are easily killed by Azriel who doesn’t bother looking at them. Concerned eyes concentrated on you. “Are you alright, sweetling?” He frees you from your shackles and cups your cheeks in his scarred hands. Something dark flickers in his eyes when he spots the red mark on your face from where one of your captors had slapped you.

You could hear the sound of battle going on the other side of the. Well, mainly screams as your fae captors were torn limb from limb by Rhys and Cassian.

The splattering of blood against stone walls hits your ears. You can only imagine the carnage

They tried to shield you from most of the violence but you knew that this offense would not be taken lightly from your mates. Only seeing red and hungry for the flesh of whoever dared to lay an aggressive hand on you.

When quiet finally reined, the door opens to reveal Cassian. Wordlessly, Azriel hands you over to Cassian's strong arms. You don't care that he's covered in blood and gore. He's smiling widely at you.

"Sorry we took so long." Cassian would apologize and hold you closely to his barrel chest. He cocks his head over to the doorway. "Rhys has the boss. I'm sure he'd appreciate your help with him."

Azriel, like always, leaves you with a kiss to the cheek before he leaves.

"Shit, they really banged you around. . ." You catch Cassian curse under his breath.

"Nothing I can't handle." It wasn't the worse abuse you'd been dealt with. "Their punches were as light as a feather."

Snorting, Cassian places his lips against your brow. "You wanna go watch the interrogation?"

"Fuck yeah I do."

Just because you were accustomed to it, didn't mean you wouldn't be petty as fuck

later when they got you home, Rhysand refused to let you out of his arms. You were cleaned up on his lap. Rhysand had a few specks of blood on his face that he didn't bother to wipe away. When you take it upon yourself to reach up and clean it, he turns his face into your palm and kisses your fingers.

Safe and sound, surrounded by your bat boys.

[writeforfandoms]

Born for Greatness 5

Find the series masterlist 

In which Logan makes his grand entrance (and there is a lot less bloodshed than most of you seem prepped for). Some discussions are had. 

Side note: JTF2 is a Canadian special forces unit. Also, I’m thinking of writing a side chapter that is just Logan and the 141 pack. Thoughts? 

Warnings: Swearing, Logan is a jerk, Price needs a warning label, world building, shifter behavior, pack cuddles. 

Word count: 2.2k

Eventual John Price x f!reader

The plane landed back in England and you leaned back a bit, watching the pack. Soap was glued to one side of you, Gaz napping on your other side. Price was watching all three of you, something undeniably soft in his gaze. 

You hadn't forgotten about Logan, but you hadn't expected him to find you so bloody fast. 

You got to put your things down in your room, at least, before Price was knocking on your door, expression thunderous. 

"Who did you tell about this base?" He asked in a low snarl. 

"No one," you snapped, frowning. "Signed too damn many NDAs to tell anyone." 

"Then why do you have a visitor at the gate?" 

You froze. "Oh hell," you breathed. "That bastard!" You stepped around Price and took off towards the gate, barely paying attention as the pack all gathered behind you. 

Sure enough, Logan stood on the other side of the gate, smirking, all 5’6” of him in jeans and a flannel, duffel bag dropped at his side. But his hair was a little shorter than the last time you’d seen him, and his beard was nicely trimmed. 

“I told you not to come,” you growled, ignoring the gate guard and striding straight up to Logan. 

“Good to see you too, kid.” His smirk widened as he looked past you. “That them?”

You finally turned to find the pack had followed you and had settled into a loose cluster behind you. You hissed out a breath. 

“It doesn’t matter because you are going home.”

“Aw, but I came all the way out here just for you, kid.” Logan’s grin reached shit-eating proportions. 

“You are not supposed to be here,” you growled, narrowing your eyes at Logan. “And I don’t just mean because I told you not to.”

“Been here once before.” Logan shrugged, crossing his arms over his chest. “Seen him before, too.” He nodded to Ghost. When you turned to look, Ghost returned the nod. 

“...What?” You felt like he’d pulled a rug from under you. 

“Few years back,” Logan said, tipping his head as he looked up at the bigger shifter. “You lot needed help finding someone.”

“Right.” Ghost huffed what might have been a laugh. “Good to see you again.” 

“When was this?” You frowned a little as you looked at Logan. 

“You were down south,” he said, scratching his chin slowly. “The pack in Ohio, I think it was.” 

“And you worked together?” Price looked at Ghost to confirm. 

“Joint op with JTF2,” Ghost confirmed with a solid nod. 

Soap whistled lowly. “Now that’s not easy to get into,” he said, looking at Logan with new respect. 

“Mmhm.” Logan grinned. “Now, you gonna invite me onto base, or we gonna shoot the shit out here?” 

You hung your head with a low groan before you looked back at Price. It was his call, his territory. 

Price clenched his jaw briefly but nodded. “Be welcome on my territory.” 

“Gonna introduce me?” Logan drawled, one finger hooking through your belt loop before you could escape.

You looked up at the sky for a moment. Looked like rain. You wouldn’t mind a good soak right then. “Logan, that is Alpha Price, Ghost you apparently know, and those two are Soap and Gaz. This is Logan, the longest-running pain in my ass.” 

“Say, you wouldn’t happen to be her wolverine friend, would you?” Gaz stepped closer, eyes bright with curiosity.

“Talkin’ about me, kid?” Logan smirked, looking far too amused. 

“I hate you,” you grumbled, hunching your shoulders. “I’m gonna go find something tall to throw myself off of now.”

“Good luck, have fun.” 

You gave up, jogging ahead to catch up to Price as the other three hung back with Logan. “I swear I didn’t ask him to come here, or tell him where I even was.”

“I know,” Price murmured soothingly. One hand touched yours. “If he’s JTF2, he’s got his own resources.”

“He’s quasi-retired. Which I’m sure is why he was able to drop everything and fly out here.” You rubbed a hand over your face. You should never have called him. 

“Hey.” Price’s hand fit warm over the back of your neck. “You’re fine. Don’t stress about it.”

You sighed, some of the tension running out of your shoulders. “Yeah, alright.” You drew in a deep breath. “So, what’s on the agenda for today?”

Price shrugged, his thumb gently smoothing over the back of your neck. “Today’s an off day since we just got back. I’ll probably be working on paperwork, but they’re free to do whatever they want.”

“Right.” You pursed your lips. You could find places to hide on base and be out of the way. “I’ll stop bothering you, then.”

“Not bothering me.” He glanced at you, eyes dark, hand squeezing the back of your neck lightly. “Stop worrying.”

“It is literally my job to worry.” 

“Then maybe you need a day off.” He stopped outside one of the buildings, hand shifting just a little lower to squeeze again. Your eyes slid half-closed in pleasure, and his lips quirked. “You know where my office is?”

“Nope.” You blinked slowly at him.

“Ask one of them. I’ll be there all day if you need anything.” He ducked his head a little to meet your eyes for a moment before he released you and walked away. 

You blinked after him and then turned to find four shifters all watching you curiously. You warmed and flapped your hands at them. “Shoo, you hooligans. Go cause chaos somewhere else.” And you promptly fled. 

You ended up on top of the barracks (and briefly told yourself to talk to someone about this habit of going high places when in distress). The sky was still threatening rain, but so far activity on the base hadn’t ceased. 

Soft swearing made you finally look away from the view, spotting Logan climbing up onto the roof. He shot a mistrustful look at the sky before he walked over and sat next to you.

“So?”

“So what?” you asked, looking back out over the base.

“You like them.” He nudged you, just once. 

You blew out a sigh. You could try to lie, or deflect. But it wouldn’t work for long. Logan knew all your tells. “I do.” 

“So make it work.”

“It’s not that simple.” 

“It’s never that simple.” Logan snorted. “Doesn’t mean I’m wrong.”

You glowered at him and then gave up, sighing and looking away again. “I don’t think it’s a good idea. Besides, I have no idea how they feel.”

“Don’t you?” Logan looped his arm over your shoulders, pulling you into his side. “Or are you just ignoring signals?”

“Stop being so damn perceptive,” you growled. 

“Well, no snowbanks to throw you into here,” Logan rumbled. “This is my next best bet.”

You groaned. “You’re a menace.”

“And you’re stubborn, makes us even.” 

The first fat drop of rain landed right on top of your head, followed immediately by one landing on your nose. 

“Aw, fuck,” Logan grumbled. “Weather here is still shit.” 

You snorted, getting to your feet. “You live in Canada.”

“And?”

“You have snow at least half the year!”

“Snow is easy. This is just wet.” Logan motioned you to go down first, keeping a close eye on you. You got down to the ground with no issues and moved out of the way so Logan could get down too, grimacing at the pull of wet clothes. It had gone from threatening to downpour in less than a minute. 

“Did they give you a room yet?” you asked, jogging to the door to the barracks and heading inside.

“Nah, mentioned something about it.” Logan shrugged, unconcerned, following you. 

“Guess we’re going back to mine, then.” You led the way, unlocking the door and letting him in first. Not that there was much to see. 

“You don’t travel with any pictures?” He frowned a little, gaze darting around the room. 

“No. Usually I try to give my full attention to the pack I’m working with.” You pulled out a clean top and dry sweatpants. “Besides, I talk to people almost every day.”

Logan grumbled, displeased, but changed as well. His duffel bag had been left in your room, although you weren’t sure if it was a joke, an easy place to put it temporarily, or because someone had assumed something about the nature of your relationship. 

With the both of you in dry clothes, you debated what else to do now. You hadn’t exactly come equipped to entertain, after all. 

A knock on your door made you blink, but you pulled it open to see Soap and Gaz. 

“Movie day?” Gaz asked with a hopeful smile. 

“Alright,” you agreed. “You okay if he tags along? He gets bored on his own.” You jerked a thumb back over your shoulder at Logan. 

“Watch it, kid,” he grumbled without any heat. 

“Sure.” Soap grinned. “More the merrier. I’ll drag LT in later.”

You snorted softly but followed Gaz to the rec room. Soap and Gaz immediately ensconced you between them on the couch, and Logan chuckled as he settled in a chair. 

“You two are menaces,” you said without heat, letting Gaz spread a blanket over the three of you. But you forced yourself to look at them a little more closely, to actually note how they behaved and their body language. While neither of them really fussed, they both paid attention to you, and to have you squished between them like this? This was a definite sign of favor, of acceptance, only enhanced by how relaxed they both were with you. 

Almost reflexively, you wanted to pull away, to hide. To protect yourself from the inevitable hurt. But you forced yourself to pause, to breathe through it. You relaxed back into the couch, breathing slowly. 

Soap made a pleased noise and cuddled in closer to you. Touch was important to pack, and cuddle times like this, or even sleeping together in a pile, was not unusual. But it also was another sign that he wanted you here.

Maybe even for longer than just this job. 

You met Logan’s eyes across the room, knowing you were showing your internal struggle. He just smiled a little, almost the softest expression you’d ever seen on his face, and very intentionally closed his eyes. One of the biggest signs of trust from a shifter. 

You swallowed hard and relaxed between Gaz and Soap, warm and comfortable and comforted. 

Sometime after the first movie, Ghost settled in the room. In a chair, of course, away from the pile of you on the couch. Gaz freed himself enough to start texting someone rapidly, glancing at you a few times. 

“What are you planning?” you asked him quietly, eyes narrowing a little.

“Nothing,” he immediately protested. “Well. Nothing bad.” He met your gaze for a long moment before he looked back at his phone. You blinked, startled. He… Had he just…? No. No way. 

His little noise of triumph distracted you, and he hopped to his feet. 

“Back in a mo,” he said before darting out of the room. 

“You have any idea what he’s planning?” you asked Soap, taking the chance to get up and bring back water for everyone. Ghost blinked when you set his down in front of him, apparently surprised.

“Not really.” Soap grinned and took his, watching you go back for snacks. “Ye ken we can get our own, aye?”

“Oh hush. You’re always hungry.” You threw a protein bar at his head. 

“You’re not wrong about that.”

You jumped at Price’s voice behind you, in the doorway. You turned to find a very amused Price standing there, a smug-looking Gaz behind him. 

“You’re a menace,” you grumbled without heat. “Giving up on the paperwork for the day?”

“Something like that.” He glanced around the room before refocusing on you. 

You tossed Ghost a snack and chucked one at Logan too before you dropped a few more on the table in front of the couch and sat back down. Soap plastered himself to your side again, looking smug. 

“Are we finishing this movie or starting something else?” you asked, giving everyone time to settle down. 

But you were surprised when Price dropped down next to you instead of Gaz. He leaned back into the couch, big and warm, his arm draped across the back of the couch. You swallowed hard, trying to focus on the screen even as a playful bout of bantering went straight over your head. 

You hadn’t spent a lot of time with Price, and him being this close was… distracting. More than you had accounted for. Especially since he was relaxed, at ease. This close, that lovely rumbling laugh could be felt and heard. 

This was dangerous. You needed to go, needed to get out before you got in too deep–

Logan caught your eye across the room, holding your gaze. You stilled. He breathed in deliberately slowly, not looking away, almost forcing you to follow along until the urge to flee vanished. Then he blinked and looked away. 

“Alright there?” Price asked quietly, though you were well aware everyone in the room could hear him. 

“Yeah.” Your lips quirked into something close to a smile as you leaned back and just a little bit into him, already steadier. “I’m good.” 

Nobody but you noticed the smug smirk on Logan’s face.

[danikamariewrites]

can i please request a fic/drabble with cassian x reader who is super duper hella shy, like she hates going out in public and when she does she stands behind cassian and tries to hide herself🥲🤍🧎‍♀️

Cassian x shy!reader hc

A/n: this is so cute omg! I got two requests for this so I combined them into one ☺️

Cassian would think your shy demeanor is so cute and he’d be so protective of you

When you first met you were terrified of him

He’s just so tall and muscular who wouldn’t be terrified of the Lord of Bloodshed

Cassian had come into the bookstore you work at

You like your job, it’s quite and not super busy

You mostly stock and do the orders and office work since you don’t love talking to the customers since you were terrified of being yelled at or your social anxiety crippling you

The day Cassian came in your boss asked if you’d be ok alone for your shift. You said yes bc you were scared to say no but what was the worst that could happen

Cassian’s over eager personality scared the shit out of you. He creeped up on you by accident making you drop the books you were holding

But as soon as you started talking to him there was something about Cassian that made you feel so comfortable

After that day he kept coming back and took you out to lunch as friends a few time

He courted you for months bc he didn’t want to scare you off by coming on too strong but when Cassian loved he loved with his whole heart

“So, y/n, I was wondering if I could take you out on a real date?” Cassian had never seen you so excited

You had nodded enthusiastically, saying yes louder than normally, and pulled him into your version of a bone crushing hug

The rest was history

Cass got pretty good at reading you

When you discovered the mating bond everything made sense

Why you were ok speaking to him immediately, why Cass was the safest person you’d ever been around, and why he was so good at knowing what you need

When you met the IC you were shaking at the thought of meeting the high lord and lady

And the fact that these males were his brothers! What if none of them liked you or thought you were faking being shy for attention (you got that a few times when you were younger)

But they we’re the complete opposite

They we’re all very warm and welcoming, though Amren still scares you, you can’t make eye contact with her

You do like to go out with Cassian and take walks through the city

If he sees someone he knows Cass will stop and talk to them for what feels like hours

You cling to his arm and continuously inch behind him until his wings are blocking you

Whenever you’re nervous Cass wraps a wing around you and holds your hand

He always sends love and reassurance down the bond to help you calm down

You do like going out to eat with him, you just hate ordering

Cassian will always order for you

He has your coffee shop order memorized and all your favorite meals from the restaurants you go to

He always checks that that’s what you want and you give him a small smile and send a thank you down the bond

[reallyromealone]

Can you make a separate au we’re the reader in, reader pretending to be an alpha and Bonten finds out so here it is (part2),

went feral (i heard that omega can become stronger than a alpha when their pushed to their limits)

I feel like the reader’s potential was wasted

I have been working on this for a while.

Literally only working on this when I was annoyed, I hope you enjoy reader getting to do what he deserves.

Warnings: murder, mentions of an attempted rape but not in any detail, carnage, chemical violence, drugging not mentioned explicitly, guns, knives, suicide

🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐

When (name) awoke, he lunged.

Fully feral and filled with rage, he scratched takeomi's face, eye bleeding as (name) was pulled off and attention turned to his next targets.

Shakily he stood up and at that moment Bonten experienced the anger of a feral Omega.

(Name) was defiled and forcibly marked.

And he was going to murder everyone in this room.

Takeomi was holding his eye as (name) lunged at Kakucho, going for his throat and managing to get him down, the Alpha surprised at the difficulty he had keeping the omegas teeth away from his throat "this is now how it's supposed to go!" He yelled as the others managed to get him off, Sanzu grabbing the Tranquilizer gun they kept on hand and shot (name), the Omega passing out.

"Holy shit" Rindō looked horrified "what the fuck was that?!"

"An angry feral Omega" Koko mumbled equally startled.

When (name) awoke he found himself locked in a cell, the feral Omega pacing angrily as Bonten watched from the other side "what the fuck are we supposed to do?" Mochi said stressed as he glanced at the others "wait till he ends this tantrum" Mikey said simply and (name) wailed at the bars, actually shaking them as he glared at the others with a look none of them have quite seen.

His eyes were practically glowing in the darker parts of the cell, the men making sure their mate had the penthouses of cells, soft things only of course.

A feeble attempt to show the Omega they would care for him.

But (name) didn't want that.

He wanted bloodshed.

In a flicker of consciousness he managed to steal a knife off a guard who got to close to the cell, wanting to see the Omega up close.

He didn't believe the Omega was that dangerous, mumbling about the horrid things he wanted to do to him.

Now he was before (name), entering the cell not realizing (name) was armed.

Blood pooled the floor as he stole his gun and shirt and boots.

He was a Bonten higher up, he was going to show why he wasn't to be fucked with.

(Name) shot anyone who came into his line of sight, taking guns from those who he killed when bullets ran out of one gun and absolutely layed waste upon anyone who dare get close to him.

He was out to kill.

Bonten watched the cameras in horror, (name) was absolutely slaughtering everyone as he made his way up to the executives.

Then the cameras lost feed.

"Shit..." Takeomi and the others looked around as the power went out.

Now they no longer had to deal with an angry feral Omega.

But instead?

A coherent pissed person who wanted revenge.

And revenge (name) was going to fucking get.

Having gone to the weapons room and got what he would need.

(Name) didn't go through the main entrance, no no they would be expecting that.

He went through the vents, staring down at the panicked men and smiled, good.

They deserved fear.

They took away his life.

And he was going to take there's.

In his hands were a flash bomb, a smoke bomb and tear gas, throwing the flash bomb down first, then the smile then the tear gas he watched them scream in pain before putting the gas mask on and hoping down with weapons as he looked at the men desperately trying to get the gas out of their eyes and began his massicare, stabbing and killing those who brought him suffering.

Mikey was the last, witnessing (name) crack his neck before charging at him and due to the pain barely having time to recognize what was happening till (name) pushed him out a window, glass shattering and Mikey falling.

The last face he saw was the person he was going to make his mate.

The last thing he saw was (name) put a gun to his own mouth and fire as he was going to follow them right to hell and make sure they could never escape him.

[cherryblossom-enthusiast]

The Rules (Joel Millerxf!Reader)

Part of the Bloom! Universe 

A/N: Hello!! Thank you all so very much for the support on Bloom! You all are such big motivators for me to keep writing. To give back, I wanted to give you guys a peak into florist! reader and Joel’s future. Maybe I’ll do a part 2 if people wanna see more of it? Cheers!

To those seeing this for the first time, it is a comapnion piece to Bloom

Again, if you wanna be updated, please turn on notifications for @cherryblossom-enthusiast

Synopsis: You’ve been teaching Joel a lot about flowers. It’s about time he tells you a thing or two about cowboys. 

Warnings: Language, Allusions to Smut, Suggestive Comments, 

Word Count: 1.4K

Fluff 

Masterlist

Laughter.

It’s the last thing you expect hearing from anyone.

But as you stand here, in the middle of a bar, surrounded by friends, on a Friday evening, it almost seems like the whole world hasn’t gone to complete shit.

People around you are dancing, boozing, having a good time, and for a few obscure moments, they can pretend to be anywhere but here. Where you don’t have to think about what to trade, when to wake up for patrol. How to survive, where your next meal will come from.

It’s a place to forget, or maybe for some, a place to remember.

For you, maybe a little bit of both.

The thoughts of tomorrow plague you too, but it all halts when you see Ellie. She’s spinning on the dance floor with one of the girls and so so vibrant. She notices you staring and motions vigorously for you to join them. After a quick swig of beer, you place your bottle down and approach the two girls. The three of you create a circle, hand-in-hand with each other. There’s no way to explain what the three of you do. It’s all swishes and twirls, this way and there, and you just let the music and atmosphere consume you.

Maybe you shouldn’t be enjoying this too much. Not when there’s so much loss and grief around you. But, taking a few pages from Joel’s book, why couldn’t you be a selfish fucking asshole for a short while? Yes, there is suffering and bloodshed, but for now, even if to pretend, you can say you’re still breathing and it’s all alright.

“You ladies mind if I cut in?”

Speak of the devil.

You’d notice who’s drawl it is from a mile away. Hard not to when you’ve heard it yell, heard it snicker.

Heard it moan.

The three of you stop what you’re doing and sure enough, Joel Miller approaches your circle displaying that grin you’ve gotten so used to seeing. You bite your bottom lip and give him an all-knowing look. The look. Like you couldn’t understand how he was talking to you, like he was everything right in all the things that made him wrong.

He made sure to return a look of his own.

With a wail of disgust, Ellie pulls the other girl away from your grasp and hurries her to scurry off. They’re off before you know it, but you hear Ellie’s teasing from an earshot. “Ugh, c’mon, they’re gross when they start making kissy-kissy faces at each other.”

You chortle at her comment and Joel shakes his head, trying to look disappointed. He circles his hands around your waist and you loop your arms around his neck. It all comes too naturally. The fact that there was once a time where you couldn’t speak more than one sentence to each other feels like a lifetime ago.

With a raised eyebrow, you flick the cowboy hat perched on top of his head. “Really making sure you’re dressed to fit the role huh, Texas?”

He shrugs and that grin of his just grows wider. “Hadn’t worn one in a while.” He admits. “Thought it’d be nice to.”

You plant a kiss to his cheek and pull back. “Thank you very much for my peonies this morning. They were lovely.”

What started off as something simple became ritual, became habit. Every Friday morning, Joel would leave you a flower in vase before he left to do his morning errands. At first, you tried to reject it, telling Joel he didn’t need to exert all this effort everyday just to woo you, but you should have known immediately that it was something a lot deeper. It took longer than you’d like to admit, but you finally got the gist of it.

Joel Miller has never been a man of many words. The flowers have become a way for him to express what he feels in a language only you could understand.

“You’re welcome. Wish I could give you more but-“

“Joel, I love them.” You move your hand, so your palm rests on his cheek. His eyes close from a brief second. “Just like I love you.”

He lets out a deep sigh and re-opens his eyes. “You are too damn good for me darlin’.”

You reach around him to hold his waist and pull him towards the bar. “You can make it up to me by getting me a drink.”

As you advance towards the bar, you see Tommy, already with a glass of dark liquid. He notices the pair of you and slouches against the counter. “Well, well, you sappy old fuck.”

Since you and Joel started seeing each other, Tommy has become even more of a constant in your life. He was similar to his brother in a lot of ways. Hardworking, sincere, downright fucking scary when it mattered, but he was, for a lack of a better term, lighter than Joel. You wouldn’t say it was easy for him to find purpose other than mere survival, but he was able to show off that lighter side of him a little more as compared to his brother.

You giggle as Joel groans. Giving Tommy a quick hug, you pull back and notice both the Millers are wearing similar hats. “Aww, you guys are matching?”

Joel steals his brother’s drink and swallows it before Tommy can even react. Tommy pays no attention to Joel and flips him the bird as he responds back to you. “Yeah, it was from that cabin we scouted a while back. You know the one? You and Joel stayed there over that storm right?”

How could you ever forget that cabin?

“Right.” Your face flames at the memory.

Before your mind starts to go down that rabbit hole of dirty thoughts, you try and continue the earlier conversation. Swiftly, you pluck the hat off of Tommy’s head and place it on top of yours. “Okay, maybe I need something a little more my size.” You admit as your vision is blocked. After a bit of concentration and even more fumbling, you are able to balance the hat on top of your head so it seems like it fits you perfectly. Placing a hand below your chin, you beam at both men. “How do I look fellas?”

You wait for a response, but you get nothing in return. Just the Millers staring at you in pure silence.

“Uh, guys?” You hesitate to ask. “What’s up?”

Tommy gives you a breathy laugh and a smirk curls up his lips. “I’m flattered sweetheart, but I’m taken.” He tells you.

Confusion consumes you. You look towards Joel for help, but his eyes are glaring a burning hole at the hat you’re wearing. The same stare he gave anyone who got in his way. “Joel?”

Without a single word, he comes up to you, flicks the cowboy hat straight off your head and places his  on top of your head instead. His jaw is clenched and you can’t help but notice he’s frustrated at what you just did. Why? You have no damn clue.  

Tommy picks up his fallen hat with a hearty laugh. “And that is my cue to leave.” He pats your shoulder. “Have fun.”

Your brows knot and you turn your gaze back to Joel. “Did I do something wrong?” You ask him, genuinely concerned you screwed something up.

He holds your waist closer to him. “You didn’t do something wrong doll, just did it to the wrong guy.”

“Huh?”

Joel stares down at you, faces only mere inches apart. You could kiss him right now, wanted to kiss him right now, but you waited to hear his explanation.

The intensity in his eyes grow stronger. “I’ve been learning so much about flowers from ya doll, but maybe I should start teaching you about some of our rules too.”

The perplexity in you keeps growing. “Rules?”

He slowly nods. “Cowboy rules.”

Tilting your head, your eyebrows are frozen on being creased. “There’s rules?”

“Uh-huh” He responds despondently. His hand travels down to the curve of your ass. “Lesson one,”

He gives you a light spank.

“You wear the hat, you ride the cowboy.”

- - - - - -- 

Part 2?

[gay-dorito-dust]

aemond x stark reader. trip back to winterfell, aemond is possessive of the reader. one bed

A/n: this was kinda shit plus I think Aemond would be possessive even towards readers family cuz to me he comes off like the type.

When word was sent that you were requested to return to Winterfell, you knew Aemond wouldn’t be too pleased. So when you retired to your chambers for the night, only to be greeted by the prince sat upon the edge of your bed, his face blank of any and all forms of expression. You figured it would be best to be done with it before he found out on the day of your departure and make it everyone’s problem.

“Aemond, my heart.” You began as you made your way to his side, reaching for his hand to not only ground him but to also prepare yourself for what’s to come. “I received word from my father this morning,” you paused briefly to gauge his reaction, secretly relieved in seeing that his face remained neutral. That was up until you spoke about your father, and all in the of a single breath, that Aemond almost couldn’t quite catch it. “I’m coming with you.” He said in a way that implied that there would be no further debate.

“He asked for me and me alone.” You rebutted but Aemond didn’t seem to care as his single eye stared challengingly into your own, “then he shall have to make due with me accompanying you. After all, he’ll have no choice but to get use to me sooner or later.” He gripped your chin within his hand, thumb rubbing back and forth against your jaw, as he skimmed over your features that were highlighted by the fireplace almost possessively. “For I do not plan on letting my betrothed to go where I can not follow. Understood?” You sighed defeatedly, knowing that once Aemond’s mind was made up it was near enough impossible to change it.“Understood.” You replied. “Good, now get some sleep, we’ve got a long journey ahead tomorrow.” Aemond finalised, pressing a kiss against your forehead and pulling away, letting go of your chin as he began to undress himself for bed.

As the snow embedded landscapes of Winterfell came into view, you suddenly felt distraught at the fact that you wouldn’t be able to recognise your own home, after being away from it for so long. Despite being buried under the copious amount of furs you never felt more rigid in that moment; KingsLanding was a sauna in comparison to Winterfell, which felt like how you imagined hell freezing over would feel like. Glancing over at Aemond, you noted that despite proudly proclaiming to house the fire of a dragon in his veins; it seemed that even the mightiest of dragons were forced to bow to the harsh winters of the North. “What happened to all that tall talk my dear Aemond? Scared of a little cold?” You teased as a means in giving your overworked mind some ease.

“Dragons aren’t built for the cold.” Aemond replied, looking out of one of the carriage windows and over the vast expanse of glimmering white that seemed to stretch endlessly far and wide. “Wolves, however, are.” He adds with a smile directed your way that warmed you up from the inside. Aemond reached a hand over to grasp yours reassuringly, “it is also believed that wolves can smell fear,” he adds, “so don’t allow yourself to get so intimidated by the what ifs and focus on the present.” It always seemed to elude you that the brazen and bold prince before you could uphold a conversation that didn’t dissolve into ceaseless violence and bloodshed. It also seemed to elude you that he was just as well versed in the political and philosophical as he was well versed in the art of swordsmanship.

Though before you could voice your thanks, you were already in the courtyard where your family was waiting in their regal furs. Their smiles only widened when they saw you step out of the carriage. “Y/n!” They cried when you got close enough for them to draw you into a warm hug before pulling away, “by the gods you’ve grown.” Your father said as he compared his height to yours, a habit he developed when you were just a growing child, “hope your claws haven’t dulled during your stay in KingsLanding.” He adds. You scoffed, falling back into old habits, “oh they’ve tried, soon enough they discovered I wasn’t so willing to being a bed warmer.” Your father gaufed, clasping you on the shoulder as you smiled back at him as the worries you had slipped away quietly from your mind.

“That’s my child.” Your father’s eyes then shifted back to the carriage when he noticed someone else exiting, his smile filling dropping from his face when he noticed the platinum blonde hair of Aemond Targaryen. “I thought I told you to come alone, Why’d you bring Aemond one eye.” Your father asked, his eyes never leaving Aemond as he approached you both and tucked his hand comfortable to your waist, drawing you to his side. “It’s an honour to meet you Lord Stark, when my y/n told me of your letter. They’ve spoke of you in nothing but the highest of regards. I merely wished to accompany them on this joyous reunion.” Aemond said as he smiled at you before returning his gaze to your father, who despite his distain,smiled tightly as he clasped the prince a little too harshly on the shoulder. “Had I known before hand that you were also coming we would’ve rectified some accommodations a bit that would…besuited the needs fit for a prince.” Aemond merely waved his hand dismissively while he chuckled as though your father told him a funny joke.

“There will be no need for that Lord Stark. I assure you, me and your child are more then accustomed to sharing during their stay with me in KingsLanding.” Aemon states with pride as your fathers eyes merely darken at every word that left his mouth. His fists tightened at his side and he jaw would clench periodically the longer he was forced to listen to the pompous Targaryen. Had he knew that this was the man he has sent you away to one day marry, he would’ve reconsidered and kept you within Winterfell in search of a worthier man such as your childhood friend, Sebastian. You didn’t know whether you wanted to die out of embarrassment right then and there or hide out of fear of what your father would do should Aemond continue. However seeing as neither option would give you much reprieve, you instead gripped Aemond’s arm whistle flashing him a tight smile.

“Aemond my heart, why don’t we get settled in for the night. My father must be exhausted from all the preparations he put into our arrival.” You said, drawing their attention away from one another and on to you instead, relinquishing the tension between the two of them, if only by a little. Aemond seemed to ponder on this a little bit before squeezing your waist, “of course my love, besides you must be tired from the journey here yourself if I’m not mistaken.” “Oh yes, absolutely flabbergasted.” You immediately took advantage of Aemond’s suggestion, finally having an excuse to not be left standing in the courtyard longer then you wanted on your first night back home. All the testosterone was giving your a headache. “Go on ahead child, I’m sure you know where your room is after all this time?” Your father asked as he began to internally dread this week and all it will entitle.

“Of course I do,” you replied, leaving Aemond’s side to hug your father once more before bidding him farewell as you returned to Aemond to drag him by the arm all the up to your room; Shutting the door cautiously behind you before looking over at the smirking male as he sat upon the edge of your bed. “Aemond, my heart, what the fuck was that all about.” He shrugs his shoulders, “I have no idea what your talking about y/n.” You scoffed, walking towards him so that you were in front of him, “so your not going to tell me why you were having a dick measuring contest with my father. Not even mere seconds after arriving.” Aemond grip your waist, bringing you even closer to him. “I don’t plan on wasting our stay here by sharing you with your father. If he wanted to see you, he could’ve visited us, not the other way around.” You put your hands on his shoulders, pulling away from him slightly so you could look him in his eye. “Why am I less to believe that there is more then your letting on.”

Aemond smiled, knowing he couldn’t have anything slide pass you without having you catching on, “your right to think that because had I let you go alone, your father would’ve called off our annulment and have you married to Sebastian Arryn instead despite already having a well known alliance with them for awhile.” He lifted himself off the single bed to rest his forehead against yours, “but don’t you think that we’re more better suited as a couple? As proud children of our respective houses and the children of ice and fire. It as though fate had decided to conjoin the opposing forces through us.” His voice narrows down to a whisper as he held your hand against his own to look adoringly at the size difference between the two of you.

“It doesn’t matter who I have to cut through to prove my love for you, the fact still stands that I will denounce everything to be with you. If your family, friends or even old lovers wish to get between that then…” he trails off to look into your eyes before pulling away entirely, “I shouldn’t have to tell you what will happen to them, you are more then aware of the consequences to befall those who try to take you away from me.” You remained still whilst he buried himself beneath the covers of your old bed, knowing fully well to never question Aemond’s loyalty like you would’ve in the past. Back then you were terrified to have a man borderline obsessed with you to the point he would gift you an ex-lovers head in a box. Now however you’ve grown to find solace in knowing the extent Aemond was willing to go to prove his love. The power that this granted you was almost infinite if you were to include Vhagar to the picture.

It was dangerous but after some time you’ve learnt to love living dangerously quite quickly. You began to undress yourself before making yourself comfortable, shuffling closer to Aemond until your head was resting on his chest and your hand was splashed out against his chest. His warmth was enough alone to bring you to a sleepy state. “Do you promise to love me like this until we die?” You asked him, causing the hand he had on your back to stop tracing shapes into your skin, “such a sill thing to make me promise to,” Aemond says, pressing a kiss to your head where he lingered there for a little longer, “I have always loved you like this ever since we met at the tourney for your hand, despite my hatred for them I knew I couldn’t let you be with anyone other then me.”

[queentala]

Random small headcanons for my fav SJM men

Those are totally random thoughts I had and just kept collecting, also I'll be adding new ones when I'll come up with something. Feel free to reblog and add yours <3

I think Gavriel can draw really well, especially with pencil. Like, you know, he's a really precise and detailed guy, plus thanks to his soldier skills he has really stable hands, and it just sits right with me

Azriel loves when you paint his nails black. Also once you made him wear eyeliner and he actually really liked the results, so now from time to time he lets you do it

Aedion has his ears pierced but doesn't wear any earrings (it was probably a dare, even more likely he was drunk then)

Ruhn likes to have a small, faint lamp put on when he sleeps. It looks like a white sparkle and doesn't cast much light but having it next to his bed makes him feel somehow more safe and comfy

Also, he loves being held while sleeping. When you let him snuggle to your chest and hold him tight... It's his paradise, he can stay like this for eternity

Cassian is very ticklish (especially on feet). It's actually his secret because, come on, he's the Lord of Bloodshed, how can he be ticklish? And of course you fully respect that, not wanting his reputation to suffer, however, when it's just the two of you... Let's say Cass has to be pretty alert most times as you love to take advantage of that

Fenrys always brings you a plushie from his travels to foreign countries. Actually, he brings you many different things like jewellery, dresses, combs, mirrors, gems... everything. But a plushie, is a must. You have a whole collection of small cute stuffed animals (mostly wolves) from different parts of the world. Every one of them has a name, personality and a back story which you and Fenrys always come up with

Aedion is a horse girl. He rides so well and just loved being around those animals since he was a little boy. Often he takes you on all day long trips around Terrasen. Also he has few of his favorite horses and he spoils them so much, they're just his babies.

He also probably has like six dogs and wants to adopt every one he sees on the street

Lorcan most of the times either doesn't cuddle or is the big spoon. However, after really hard day he loves to fall asleep with his face in your breasts and his hair stroked

Sometimes when Rowan is engrossed in his work, he hums songs mindlessly

Fenrys talks in his sleep, and this goes to the point where you can literally argue with him or have a whole conversation as he's asleep

Aedion swears a lot. Gavriel doesn't swear almost ever and his face when Aedion starts throwing curses he could never imagine is just priceless

However, Gavriel knows many langues. So, whenever he's angry and finally hit his breaking point, he starts shit talking and insulting everyone in a foreign langue no one knows (just imagine him aggressively talking to himself in Spanish while walking around and throwing hands in the air lol)

Cassian always sleeps naked and refuses (will literally get offended) to do otherwise, even if there are different people sleeping in the room (read: Azriel)

Dorian baby talks to his dogs. Sometimes when he does this he forgets that he is a king and then have the whole castle talking about it for the next week (people find it adorable though. some of them at least.)

Rowan always has some blades with him. Always. Dude could be standing in the room only in his boxers and still proceed to pull out a knife from gods know where

Also, he will never admit it but he has some of his favorite blades that he had named. But if you'd ever done this he would laugh at you

Once you've gotten Ruhn a bracelet for his birthday that was a guitar pick of his favorite guitarist on a black string and from then he doesn't take it off. Ever.

We know Ruhn has this very rare and useful ability to speak in people's minds, however his favorite way to use those abilities is to make the dumbest jokes in your head in the most random moments and watch you burst out laughing around all those strangers that have no idea what is going on

GAVRIEL HAS DIMPLES

AND SO FUCKING DOES AEDION

(he also got the big d genes from him but it's the topic for other post)

So, Fenrys is a master at coming up with the weirdest nicknames for his loved one, however, no one compares to Cassian in this matter. His creativity sometimes is more than flesh and blood can bear

Lorcan is actually the biggest girl dad

Let's be honest, Dorian has better skin care than any lady in the whole sjm universe

Cassian loves being called your pretty princess

Azriel loves puzzles. And Legos! There's no better way to spend your day off than building castles and forts, and then having an actual battle between your kingdoms

Bat boys are not really fond of thunder... I think they have bad experiences with flying during storm and it haunts them to this day. They always want to be the little spoons and be cuddled when there's a storm outside

Azriel has bat slippers and Fenrys has wolf or bunny slippers

Dorian loves wearing sygnets. He has so many and you're simply obsessed with them. He's a king, he has to look decent, you know, but Dorian loves wearing them even if it's just the two of you snuggling or sitting in the library reading. Or when he fucks you and you can feel them dig into your skin when he grabs your ass..

Lorcan enjoys having his hair combed. He just melts when you do it. And if you do a little braid somewhere on his head he will keep it and wear it for the next few days

Gavriel is the best dancer you will ever meet. On the balls he can easily make everyone's attention turn to the two of you. But he also likes to dance with you in your house or chambers, where there are no people or music, and to be honest both of you like those moments much better

To be continued....

[pedrito-friskito]

Hiiiiii

for your Sundae thing, I’d like to do the roll for a fic option.

Americas Ass Dice bc lol, Pedro character, and if you could combine a smut and fluff prompt that would be awesome, but if not just smut is fine.

this is such a cool idea ❤️

hi lovely!!!! ok so….this one got away from me. I rolled a smut and a fluff and we got “is this real? are…are you real?” for fluff and “take off your clothes before I rip them off your body” for smut. and I rolled my favourite medieval grump, Pero Tovar! thanks for requesting, sorry I took so long, but I hope you enjoy! 💕

take my hand - pero tovar x fem!reader

word count: 4.3k (it got away from me I’m not lying LOL)

warnings: canon-typical violence, war, fighting, pero is a bit of a simp, explicit sex, unprotected p-in-v (wrap ur shit even in the old days okay)

(gif by @pedrohub)

Pero finds himself in the middle of yet another war.

He follows William, because he owes his friend a debt — a life debt. If William had not bartered for him, Pero would still be rotting away in that cell, or perhaps the soldiers would have lit black powder beneath his feet just to see what would happen. He tries not to think about it too hard.

Regardless, he has followed William, and his friend has somehow lead them to the edge of another battle, one far too large and vast for them to steer around. Everywhere he looks, blood spatters and arrows fly. The glint of blades make his hands hunger for his own swords, the sound of metal clashing ringing in his ears as they inch nearer.

“There is no going around this, Pero,” William says, squinting into the fray. “I wonder what sparked such bloodshed.”

An arrow whizzes past their heads at that point, embedding itself in a tree not three feet from Pero’s horse. In response, the steed rears back, tossing Pero from his saddle before disappearing in the direction they’d come. “Stupid fucking creature,” Pero grits, wincing as he gets to his feet. William slides from his own saddle with slightly more grace, and claps Pero on the shoulder.

“All we can do is move through the fray, my friend,” William says, pulling the bow from his shoulder and nocking an arrow.

Before Pero can protest, William disappears into the battle and Pero’s view is quickly obstructed by the clashing soldiers. With a growl, he unsheathes the two blades at his back — grateful as anything that William had thought to return them to him — and darts forward, swords at the ready.

As he moves through the fighting, finding William a little ways into the crowds, an interesting memory tugs at his mind, nearly tearing his focus. He lifts his curved blade to block a sword aiming for William’s back — though they bare no colours, he knows the pair of them appear enemies to either side — and the memory sparks to life.

+

He was young, too young, when he left the village he had grown up in. Barely out of boyhood, he was conscripted as a soldier, forced to fight in a war he had no interest in fighting. His mother had wailed when they carted him away, his little sister hiding her tears in their mother’s skirts. Their father had died not a year prior, and his entire being had instantly filled with worry at leaving them alone.

Pero reached his hand out, calling to his family, when you suddenly stepped into his vision. You grabbed his hand, running to keep up with the soldiers carrying him off, and squeezed his fingers. “I’ll watch over them, Pero,” you promised, your eyes bright with tears. “Just come home to us.”

He’d known you since he was small. The house you lived in bordered his own, a small fence separating the scraps of land. You’d grown up together, in a sense, spending your childhoods running through the grass behind your houses, playing pretend in the trees and swimming in the river that snaked through the village itself.

He was barely a man, and you were barely a woman, but you had the ferocity of a girl beyond her years. Pero could see it, even then, and especially when you swore to take care of his family.

It made conscription a touch easier, knowing someone he trusted was looking out for his mother and sister. Still, he longed for home, and on especially lonely nights, he longed for you.

The night before the soldiers had come to take him away, you’d rapped on the back door of Pero’s house. His mother and sister were asleep, and worry had leapt into his throat when he first opened the door to see you standing there, your eyes shining with starlight. “Is something wr—” he started, but you shushed him and grabbed his hand, hauling him out the door.

“Come with me!” you whispered excitedly, and Pero let you drag him down through the grass, right to the edge of the river. He tried his best to ignore the spark of warmth between your twined hands, the sounds of the night filling his ears as you toed off your shoes, gesturing for him to do the same as you stepped into the water.

“What are you up to?” he questioned, but followed you, the water lapping at his ankles.

Your hands were still linked together, and you pointed up to the sky. “Look, Pero.”

He’d never seen so many stars. The open air in the fields generally offered some impressive night skies, but this was something else. Too many to count, little dots of light everywhere his eyes moved. And then, as he stared up, something shot across the sky, as though a star was trying to move from one spot to the next. He hasped and you clutched his hand with both of yours.

“Isn’t it amazing?”

Pero’s gaze lowered, catching on your face, upturned like his. Your expression of pure awe was nothing short of beautiful, and his heart climbed up into his throat.

He’d always known you, but for the first time, he felt like he was seeing you.

“It is,” he agreed, and his free hand slowly lifted, palm finding the curve of your jaw, fingers fanning across your skin. “You are.”

“Pero—” you started, your face tilting back down to his. He moved closer, testing, making sure you wanted this just as much as he did. When he paused, you pounced, and when his lips met yours, Pero swore he saw the starry skies above bursting with light behind his eyelids.

You stood there in the riverbank, water around your ankles and your arms finding their way around each other, kissing for what felt like hours. When the water grew too cold and the sky above started to lighten with the coming day, you parted and moved back onto the grass. Pero found a blanket for you to lay on and kept himself close to you, kissing you in different ways, finding which way you liked best.

“I heard rumours,” you said after you’d both broken apart, desperate to catch your breath, “that the King’s men are marching through the villages conscripting any men old enough to fight.” There was fear in your eyes, burning hotter than the starlight. “That means you, Pero.”

The realization had sent a chill down his spine and he’d nearly toppled back.

“Promise me something,” you continued, finding his hand and slotting your fingers through his. “Please?”

He nodded and leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek. “Anything, bonita.”

“Promise me you’ll come back.”

“I promise.”

+

The quiet thwip of an arrow zipping past his ear yanks Pero back to the present, deposits him back into the fray. His grip nearly falters as another blade connects with his own, but the memory of your voice, suddenly so clear, has him tightening his hold, swinging the blades down and around, the point of his own sliding through the gut of his attacker. The man falls with a groan and Pero can feel his heart hammering in his chest, rioting like a caged bird.

It’s been an age since he thought of you, thought of his promise.

It was not for want of trying. He fought the King’s battles for years, lost more friends than he cares to count. Your voice in his head kept him going most days, led him through each practice with his swords, every day growing more and more confident in his blades until they felt more like an extension of him than a weapon. He had to keep himself alive, keep himself whole, so he could one day return to your village, to his family. To you.

But the wars had other plans and soon enough, he was a man grown. There were other women, and he knew you would have had other men. You were beautiful as a young girl, and Pero would be the first to admit he’s often wondered how your beauty flourished over the years. 

With every clang of his sword, he wishes you well, wishes you a happy life, a man that loves you, takes care of you. Maybe a house in that village you both grew up in, your own children running up and down the lakeshore where he’d first kissed you. He’s loath to admit he wishes he was the one to give you that life, but he wishes it for you all the same.

Men fall on both sides of him, and Pero continues through the fray. He’s lost William for certain now, and just focuses on moving forward, dodging blows on either side, spilling blood of his attackers with nearly every step. 

Arrows fly from both sides and he swears he feels the sharp tip in his shoulder before he sees it. He growls, his left side exploding with pain and launches his curved blade in the direction the arrow came. It finds it’s mark, felling the archer that shot, and Pero barrels forward, ignoring the pain, lunging for the archer and pushing the blade deeper, yelling as he goes.

“Pero Tovar!”

Pero whirls, the voice familiar and unfamiliar all an once, his memory of you tinged with the battle raging around you. Surely he’s not still caught in his own head.

But it is you. Real as the arrow lodged in his shoulder, as the blades in his hands, the hot blood on his face. You stand before him, equally covered in the gore of war. A crossbow dangles from one hand, a short sword from the other, a quiver of bolts for the former strapped to your leg. Blood spatters across your face, a bleeding gash along your collar, the hem of your cloak ripped and caked with blood.

He barely notices the soldiers that rush past as he closes the distance between you two. Your arms open for him, your face pinched with a mixture of concern and relief as he stumbles into you. You hold him to you, tilting away from his injured shoulder, and Pero can feel your eyes everywhere, inspecting him, your hands brushing his back.

Somewhere, he finds his voice, and when he does, he’s that young boy on a riverbank again, not the scarred, war-torn man he’s turned into. “Is this real? Are…are you real?”

Above the din of battle, you laugh, and the sound is like bells. “Yes, Pero, I’m real.”

He tilts his head forward just a moment, until his forehead touches yours, until he can be sure. When he feels your warm skin against his, relief floods him, blocks out any pain he feels. “I thought you—”

You hush him, squeezing his good shoulder. “Time for that later,” you say, pulling back, your eyes darting around the battlefield. He sees a soldier barrelling towards the pair of you, but before he has a chance to raise a sword, you’ve lifted your crossbow and taken aim. The bolt makes a home between the soldier’s eyes, and Pero nearly topples over. “We need to get out of here.”

You stow your short sword, curling your fingers around his wrist. His mind flashes to William, his friend somewhere buried in the fray, and he must speak his concern aloud, because your head turns back to him, your eyes peering over his shoulder. You gesture with the crossbow. “Is that your friend?”

Pero turns, ignoring the pull of the arrow still embedded in his shoulder. Sure enough, there’s William, atop a new horse, shooting arrows left and right, dropping soldiers with every shot. He spots Pero, his eyes flickering to you beside him, and turns the horse in your direction. “Tovar, my friend,” he calls, bow hanging from his grip. “Who is—”

“Ride west,” you order, and the power in your command makes the hair on the back of Pero’s neck stand up. “Clear a path. My horse is beyond the edge of the forest, it’s a few hours ride to a safe place.”

Both men stare at you blankly, Pero hoping his gaze is full of admiration while William just looks confused. With a huff, you drop Pero’s hand, stalking over and turning William’s horse west. He opens his mouth to protest, but you smack the horse’s rear before he can get a word out, and off he goes.

“Come,” you say to Pero, offering your hand. “We need to go.”

He nods, takes your hand, and you start moving. William clears the path, as ordered, and it’s easier to get through than Pero is expecting. You lift your crossbow as you go, dropping more than a handful of men, and Pero manages to raise his sword more than once, blocking arrows from your body. Soon enough, you’ve reached the edge of the fighting, and you drag Pero into the trees. He follows you blindly, the ache in his shoulder more noticeable now, but he keeps going.

Eventually, you reach your horse, as promised. A chestnut mare that shakes her head at your approach, whinnying happily when you stroke her nose. You climb into the saddle with ease, offering your hand to Pero, and he takes it again, groaning as he clambers up behind you. You click your tongue at the horse, reins in hand as Pero slides his arms around your middle, mindful of the arrow shaft still sticking out of his shoulder. 

It’s not an easy ride. Every trot jostles him, making the pain spark. Somewhere in the first hour, he reaches up and snaps the shaft of the arrow off, tossing it away. It makes it easier for him to lean closer to you, to fit his face in the curve of your neck. You smell oddly good, like blood and battle mixed with something so achingly familiar his chest goes tight with it. He tightens his arms around you, fingers laced together over your belly, and as he settles a little deeper into your back, your hand covers his, brushing over his knuckles in a soothing motion.

“Is that the place?” William calls after the second hour. Sure enough, a small cottage lies at the forest’s edge, obscured enough that you wouldn’t notice it unless you were looking for it. You nod, nudging the horse a little faster. She must recognize the place, because she leads you around the side of the cottage, where a small pasture is fenced off, and steps right through the open gate. You slide from the saddle, reaching up to offer Pero your hand, and he takes it.

Back on solid ground, safe from the battle, he can’t help himself. Your lips part, words on your tongue, but he stops them, takes your bloody face between his hands and kisses you. The world around melts away, and he’s only vaguely aware of the pain in his body, William’s horse brushing past, the win through the trees. For a moment, there’s only you.

It’s a deeper kiss than he’s ever given you. Childhood has melted from you both, kept alive only by the memories, from the affection he’s held for you all these years. Something in him stalls then, has him pulling back, a flicker in his chest when he sees the way you chase his lips, your eyes hooded.

“Gods, I’ve missed you,” you murmur, and the hesitation that made him stop, the thought that your own affection had waned over time while his had stayed alive, vanishes, and he pulls you in again. The taste of you is different on his tongue, more addicting, and it brings his body to life in ways he’s only learned since he left you. His mind races, forming images of all the ways he wants to please you, more than the teasing kisses he gave you on the riverbank that night, both of you too young and innocent to know what else to ask for.

William clears his throat loudly, and you break apart, though Pero doesn’t let you go far. He’s still close enough to feel the heat on your cheeks, and he noses at your hair as you address his friend. “We should get inside,” you say, your palm flattening on Pero’s chest. “Let me tend to your wounds and get us something to eat.”

+

A few hours later, and all is quiet in the small cottage. Your stomachs are full, thanks to you — a delicious rabbit stew Pero told you multiple times was the best meal he’d had since he left home — and your wounds have been tended to. Your collar needed a stitch or two, and Pero had to sit back and watch William’s careful efforts; his injured shoulder made it impossible for him to trust himself not to hurt you further. The blood has all been washed away, clothes washed and hung to dry, spares given to both men for the meantime.

You show William to one of the bedrooms, make sure he has everything he needs for a sound night of rest before returning to Pero. Silently, you offer him your hand, and he takes it. His heart riots in his chest as you bring him to the other bedroom. The air is heavy with promise, warmed by the fireplace in one corner, and your grip loosens once you’re inside. Pero steps toward the bed, the mountain of pillows and blankets all too inviting, but turns to see you hovering in the doorway.

“If there’s anything else you need,” you stammer out, your eyes glued to the ground. Pero’s brow lifts and he closes the distance between you quickly, pulling you through the doorway completely and shutting the door behind you.

“There is,” he tells you, knocking a knuckle beneath your chin, lifting your eyes to him. They’re just as full of stars as he remembers, just as full of wonder and promise. “You, bonita. I need you. But only…only if you’ll have me.”

Your breath rushes out of you, warm across Pero’s mouth. “If I’ll—” You cut yourself off, falling into his arms. He catches you and holds you close, the flat of his palm roaming your back, sliding down the curve of your spine, just hovering over the dip of your lower back, the swell of your ass.

“Move that hand lower, Pero Tovar,” you murmur, a slick smile on your face, “or I’ll move it for you.”

He does as he’s told, grabbing a handful of your ass through the thin linen trousers you’d donned after getting cleaned up. For a second, he thinks his mind is playing tricks on him, that the heat the greets his fingers when he adjusts his grip, slides his hand past the waist of your trousers, gripping your skin for real, that it’s a figment of his tired imagination. But then a moan slips out of you when he grips you again, your knees parting to let his thigh slip between them. Pero drinks down the noise, kisses you like he had when you’d first arrived, not so silently begs for more.

Your hands clench in his shirt, a soft cotton tunic you’d given him to wear. He can feel the bite of your nails through it, and he’s desperate to feel your skin against his. You tug at the material and Pero grins. “Tell me what you need, bonita.”

“Take off your clothes,” you bite out, reaching up with on hand and gripping his chin, nipping at his bottom lip, “before I rip them off your body.”

He moves as quickly as he can, the ache in his shoulder unnoticeable as he tears the tunic off, reaches for his trousers. You’re naked before he is, and his trousers are barely off his hips when he sees you, all of you. He can’t stop himself, grabbing you, pulling your body flush to his and bringing you back to the bed. He lays you out, lets his mouth rove lower than you lips, tasting the flesh of your chest, ducking your nipple between his teeth. He’s attentive, watching the way your body reaches to each touch he offers.

Pero sets himself beside you on the bed, his mouth moving back up to your own while his hand wanders. Your knees snap together when his hand travels past your hips, cupping the heat between your legs, trapping him there. He smiles into your kiss. “So wet, bonita,” he murmurs, letting one finger tease your dripping cunt, the heel of his hand grinding into your clit, “so sensitive.”

You whimper into his kiss, the sound like honey to his ears, and Pero buries his face in your neck, nipping at your pulse. “Wait, Pero,” you say softly, and he freezes, pulling back, searching your face.

“What is it?” he asks, using his other hand to brush the hair from your face. “Did I hurt you?”

“No, no,” you assure him, shaking your head, chewing your lip. “It’s just…”

His brow lifts. “Are you…” He can barely get the question out. “Are you a virgin?”

“No,” you reply, lifting your hand and tracing a finger over his scar. “That’s just it, Pero. I tried…I tried to wait for you. I wanted you to be the first, but then…” You shake your head again. “They told us you were dead and I…I’m sorry.”

“Sorry?” he repeats, like the word is foreign to him. “Bonita, I never expected you to wait. I never expected to see you again, truth be told. The god of luck must be on my side, throwing you back in front of me like this.” He drops his head, presses a soft kiss to your shoulder, careful of the injury at your collar. “I wanted you to be the first, too, but I…” He clears his throat. “I can think of something much better.”

“What’s that?”

“Perhaps I can be your last, and you mine.”

Your breath hitches as you pull him back down to you, the next kiss you offer even deeper than before. Pero drinks you down, memorizes the tastes of you. His hand works between your legs, two fingers pressing inside you, finding that deep spot that makes your body jolt in his arms. He murmurs to you softly in Spanish, words he knows you understand, and coaxes you up to that peak, thumbing at your clit as you topple over, gripping his wrist tight enough he can feel his bones shift.

“Pero,” you groan out, your chest heaving as you come back down, your lashes fluttering as you breathe. “More.”

“More, bonita?” he prompts, pulling his hand away, licking his knuckles clean. He’s not shy about it, sucking the taste of you from his skin, dropping his face to your chest when he’s done, scraping his teeth along the curves of your breasts. “Tell me, how much more do you need?”

“Need you inside, Pero,” you reply, your body writhing beneath his, back arching into his mouth. “Need to feel all of you.” Your hand snakes down between your bodies, fingers wrapping around his cock. It makes his breath stutter in his chest, but he doesn’t let up his ministrations, nipping at your sternum. “I can’t tell you how many nights I laid awake, with my hand between my legs, thinking of where you were, the man you’d turned into, how well you’d fuck me if you were there with me.” Your other hand grips his chin again, lifting his head from your chest, your eyes locked with his. “Don’t keep me waiting any longer.”

“Sí, bonita,” he grits out, and maneuvers you both the best he can. He slides to the edge of the bed, pulling you into his lap. You’ve got him hard as a rock between your hot kisses and your heady touches and your dirty words, and his cock bobs against his stomach, sliding through the dip where your thigh meets your hip as you settle into his lap. “You like it like this?”

“I’m yours, Pero,” you say, your voice soft. “You can have me however you like.”

The words make something in his chest snap. Pero slings his arm around your waist and lifts you just enough to notch his cock at your entrance, groaning at the heat that instantly floods him. Unable to hold back any longer, he pulls you down hard, filling you to the hilt in one fell swoop, and the loud gasp you let loose is music to his ears. 

“Mine, bonita,” he growls, gripping your hips in both hands, bouncing you on his cock. “All mine.”

Your words are gone, replaced with open-mouthed nods, your brows pinched together. You twine your arms around his neck, locking your fingers in his hair. Pero plants his feet on the ground, uses the floor as leverage to piston his hips up into yours, driving his cock deep into you, finding that same spot his fingers had grazed. It makes your body seize, your chest plastered to his, and Pero can feel the quick thump of your heart as you start to climb that peak once more.

He’s not far behind you, and when you clench around him, pleasure flooding your body a second time, he can’t hold back. Pero drops his mouth against your shoulder, bites down hard, and your responding moan has him spilling deep inside you, painting your insides with his spend. The feeling is almost too much, overwhelming in all the right ways. 

“Gods above,” you murmur, your fingers stroking through his hair, your lips at his temple, “that was…”

Pero lifts his head and finds you mouth, giving you a soft kiss that tastes of salt and a tinge of copper. “Everything, bonita.” Another kiss. “That was everything.”

[plzfeedmebread]

What Do I Tell My Friends Family? Pt. 2

word count: 4662

Pairing: Recom! Miles! Quaritch x Female! Sully! Na'vi! Reader Tags/Warnings: Non-con, slight torture mentioned, smut, blow job, mouth fucking, threats of violence, Dead Dove Do Not Eat, NSFW, degradation, dark themes, hurt no comfort Author's Notes: Aye yo wtf, this was suppose to be a one-shot! XD Some have asked for a continuation, so I have provided! Wanted to get this out on Valentines Day, though that has since passed here. Would have been out sooner but, Cyclone Gabrielle had other plans! Anyway please enjoy. Might make a part 3 for something softer. Apologies for any grammatical errors!

<previous chapter> | 2 | <next chapter>

*by clicking keep reading you understood the contents there within*

Pain.

That is the first thing that you register; a dull throb to the back of your head. You grown at the feeling. Slowly do your eyes flutter open, the sting of light assaults you.

When finally do you adjust to the brightness, you take stock of your surroundings.

White.

The walls. The ceiling. The floor. Where the fuck are you?

You realise you are on the floor. You move to sit up, but you find your hands are bound tight behind you. So it with great effort you that manage to push yourself up into a sitting position, back pressed against the wall behind you.

You gaze around the room. In the centre there is a thick metal table. No chairs. To your left, a bed that would be far too small for your frame. Clearly you are in a human facility. But you do not recognise this interior to be that of Hell’s Gate.

Shit.

Despite the painful throb, you attempt to recount your steps up until this point.

---

Your siblings; Eywa bless them all, but by the Great Mother did they infuriate you. For some unfathomable reason, the little entourage, sans Neteyam, thought to disobey the rules and explore the old battle site. There they happened upon a group of Avatars, decked out in full gear, carrying ARs.

Lo’ak calls it in. Father instructed him to retreat.

You arrived at eclipse, alongside your parents and Neteyam, leaving him with the ikran. You find your siblings captured and in the clutches of these Avatars. There would be no way to rescue them without bloodshed.

Your mother lets loose the first arrow, a clean headshot, and all hell breaks loose in a hail of gunfire. In the scuffle you manage to find Kiri and Spider, leading them away as fast as you can.

But an explosion goes off behind all of you, and though you and Kiri keep balance, you see Spider fall. The two of you yell out to him. Without so much as a second thought, you dove. You clutched his body to yours, wrapping yourself around him as the two of you fell, lessening the impact it would have on him, hoping you have protected his mask.

You hit your head on several tree branches on the way down. With a painful thud you land on the ground. There is a loud ringing in your ear. You think you can hear Spider’s muffled voice yelling your name, screaming perhaps. You can’t concentrate. There is only pain. There is only the ringing.

You faintly register the feeling of being lifted. There is a light, blinding in your eyes, coming from the skies. Then darkness. Nothingness.

Then, you woke up here.

---

It stands to reason then, that you were captured by those Avatars. Fuck.

But where was Spider?!

Panicked, you hoist yourself onto wobbly legs, looking around the room you search, but he is not here. You pull on the bindings in frustration, but it is of little use; they are wound tight.

You turn around and are met with your own reflection. You notice your head’s been wrapped in some gauze; you must’ve hit your head pretty hard. You look at the bindings on your wrist, orange, ones you haven’t seen before. A nice new gift from the Sky People.

Suddenly your ears pick up a soft swoosh of a sound, and the door behind you opens.

Too afraid to turn around you stare at the doorway through the reflection.

One of the Avatar men stalks in, bending as he does to get through the doorway.

By Eywa’s grace, he is tall. Taller than your father, your surmise. Bigger too. Probably not a fight you would win easily, if it all. Especially with your injured head and bound wrists.

“Ah, you’re finally awake.” He says as he approaches you. You turn then, slowly, to face the man. You decide to play nice, for now at least. No need to get hurt even more. Lure the enemy in, strike when they least expect.

You look up to meet his gaze head on, and freeze.

---

That face.

That damned face.

You’re sure you know that damnable face.

But it is not possible. The man you know of, are thinking of, is most assuredly dead. For real dead. You’ve seen his remains, trapped in that machine in the old battle site. You dared not to touch it; afraid it would have disturbed his spirit somehow.

Oh Eywa, his spirit…

How long has it been since you last saw him? Three years? Something close to that you think. You would never forget that evening, that desperate evening, when you approached him. Threw yourself at him. And he caved. Oh sweet Eywa, he had caved.

You knew what you did was wrong. Guilt had eaten away at you in the days that followed. You knew exactly who he was. You knew of his crimes. Yet you did it anyway. Shameful. Disgusting. Monster-fucker, you bitterly thought.

The two of you never really broached the topic of his past. He had given you his name, and it was enough. You told him who you were, and it was enough.

You hadn’t known how to explain the marks that marred your body. You claimed to have fallen off attempting a trick mid-flight. A weak excuse. You can see it in the eyes of your parents that they do not believe you. Your siblings too. But they instead teased you, convinced are they that you must have been with someone.

You decided then, that if you should see him again, you must apologise, it was a mistake, shall never happen again, and to never speak to one another going forward.

It takes two weeks then, for a re-emergence of a shared dream.

You had been psyching yourself up for the encounter.

Except the moment your eyes meet, there is such an unbelievable swell in your chest, an almost immediate heat in your loins. You are beyond smitten.

You let yourself be lost in the feeling.

Days turn to weeks. Weeks to months. And every few days, you found yourself back in his company. Back in his arms. Sometimes, he in yours. And you love it. Guilt be damned you love the attention. The two of you figure that your body must reflect whatever happens to your soul in this Space.

He, tries, to be more mindful of the marks he leaves; but your people already wear next to nothing as it is, so it is a bit of a challenge. You don’t mind though, not anymore. Not after this long. It fills you with confidence, to know you are wanted so deeply, so readily, always.

You find you are able to walk pass those boys who had rejected you with a huff, a flick of the hair. Show them that they are unneeded, and that you have found someone else.

But such a time is not to last. Your family began to pester you; your parents especially. Father is Clan Leader; this you cannot forget. So for his eldest, his daughter, to have some sort of secret lover, he is not exactly keen on. They beg and plead, asking for you to tell them who it is. If this boy, ‘Ha! Boy…’, has accepted you, then they can arrange for him to be your future mate, recognise your future relationship in the clan. Make it official as it were.

You were relucted, obviously. How can you explain to them that you were having, relations, with what is undoubtedly their worst enemy, but also that it wasn’t happening in the real world?

Just when you were slowly coming around to the idea of confessing…it stopped.

Just like that.

No warning. Just complete, nothingness.

When a week had gone by with no Quaritch, you thought nothing of it.

But weeks turn to months. One month becomes two. Two becomes four.

And on the eve of the sixth month, you break. You break down, alone under the Spirit Tree. You connected to Eywa, sobbing, begging, pleading, questioning. ‘Why? Why now?’ If it was so wholly wrong, why put you two together?

You are met with silence.

Months then, turned to years. You never do tell your parents, or your siblings. Your apparent mood change at the seventh months leads them to believe things didn’t work out. It had been months since they saw you with marks in suspicious places. You are grateful they never bring it up though; but you can tell in they walk on egg shells around you that they know.

This goes on for about another few months before all returns to normal.

You miss him, of course. He had been your first love you think. Accepting your body as those boys did not. A freak to them you were. Big breasted and wide hipped. But to him—

“Ahh, you’re all freaks to me darlin’. ‘Sides, if you were human, with a body like that? Pssh, men wouldn’t be able to keep their hands off ye. Lord knows I can’t,” he had winked at you when he said that. That’s when you knew there was no way you could possibly stay away from this man.

But Eywa had other plans it seemed.

“You still with me darlin’?” Your reminiscing is brought to a hastened end by the man before you. He stands just before you, waving a hand in front of your face.

Shit. How long were you staring off into nothing remembering things?

You blink rapidly, then cast your eyes downward. You are far too overwhelmed to look this man in the eye.

“What do you want, Demon?” The last part you spit with venom. You don’t know who this is, but you hate him. Hate that he looks so damn close to your human.

“Ah, so you do speak English…” He takes a step back, crosses his arms and regards you with keen interested. “That was some nasty fall back there. Had the science pukes patch ya up real nice.” You don’t say anything in response.

“Spider tells me you were protecting him. Awfully nice of ya, considering he’s human. Stands to reason then, that I shall return that kindness. Be nice and all that. All you gotta do, is tell me what I wanna know.” He roughly grabs your face in one hand, forcing you to look up at him.

“Where is Jake Sully?”

“As if I would betray my family so easily, Demon! You will get nothing from me!” You all but yell angrily at him. Baring your teeth as threateningly as you can muster.

“Now-now sweetheart, there’s no need to play hard to get. We can do this the easy way. Or the hard way. Your choice. As I said, I’ll be nice. Once. Then I won’t.”

Fear.

Fear bursts through you. You look up at this man, this Demon, this monster and plead with your eyes.

“Please…don’t hurt me…Do not ask this of me…”

Loyalty, even in the face of danger. He admires that. But the soft approach, he’ll save for Spider. His not-son. For you though, savage daughter of that fucking traitor Jake Sully, he’s decided on a not so nice approach.

---

You don’t know how long you’ve been here. Hours? Days? Weeks? Time has all but blurred together. You have not seen the outside in so long. Have not felt the sun upon your skin. It is torture. But nothing, truly nothing, compares to that awful machine.

It pulls at your mind, the digging, cutting, searching. The feeling of a thousand metal spiders clawing into your flesh. Yet you do not yield. You think only of the forest. Of tall trees and swinging vines. Of running through the under brush at night when the world is aglow. You force your mind to think of Hells Gate. Of the scientists. Of the many humans you see mulling around.

Each time your screams fall on deaf ears, begging for the pain to stop. Each time you are brought to tears. Only when you start bleeding from your nose are you let free, returned to that awful white room. They don’t bother cuffing you anymore. You simply lay on the floor weeping to yourself till you fall unconscious.

You’re not sure how long you can keep it up. Sooner or later, you will inevitably think of the Hallelujah Mountains, of High Camp.

And where was Spider? Oh Eywa you hope he’s okay. If they put him in that same machine, you vow you would kill them all. Every. Last. Human. Avatar. Whatever. Anything breathing in this forsaken place was dead fucking meat.

Again you weep for him. You hope was safe and not scared and alone. You prayed to Eywa that they treated him with a modicum of decency, at least for being human. You move yourself and the oxygen mask they gave you into the soft bed, small as it was, a better comfort than the floor. You cry yourself to sleep.

---

It’s frustrating, Quaritch thinks. It’s been about a week, and still they have come up short. Even with Spider riding along, no progress has been made. It was difficult to even get him to agree to come a long. He had insisted on seeing you, outright refusing to cooperate otherwise. It was only when Quaritch had not to subtly threatened to return him to the science pukes that he relented. Still he demanded to at least know you were safe.

It took little effort to lie to the boy. You were technically safe, so long as they didn’t keep you in that machine longer than you could handle. You had a place to rest. Water and food were given to you. A mask too. By all accounts you were still living and breathing. Close enough to safe.

But you. Stubborn, obstinate, infuriating you. They had yet to break you. Their fancy expensive machine failing them at every turn. Quaritch stares at you on the monitors before him. He can hear you weep. Another failed round. He’s clutching his mug tightly. The General will be on his ass if he doesn’t produce results soon. He’s not exactly her biggest fan either. She’s got an arrogance about her that rubs him the wrong way.

It’s your fault, he thinks, as he stares you. Your fault, that progress has come to a standstill. It pisses him off. If you at least gave them something, anything, this would be a whole lot easier. He slams his mug down, anger bristling his nerves, ire ever growing.

“Turn off the monitors. Me and that hostile are gonna have ourselves, a little chat.”

“Sir…?”

“JUST. DO IT.” The human beside him jumps at his tone, hastily turning off the feed as commanded.

“Now don’t go turning that back on till I return. Trust me, I’ll know.” He fixes the man with a stern look before storming off to your holding cell.

---

You awake with a start at the sound of the door opening. You see the Demon step in, then touch the something beside the door. It makes a noise, and you are more than certain he’s locked it. Your stomach drops.

Quaritch looks up at the cameras, making sure there is no red light to indicate it being on. Satisfied, he turns to you once more.

“You know sweetheart. I gotta give it to ya, I’m surprised you’ve lasted this long.” He says, taking slow leisurely steps towards you. You bring your knees to your chest, pushing yourself as far back as you can until your met with the cold wall.

“But this can all go away. No more machine. I can get you outta here. All you gotta do is give me what I want.”

“I will give you nothing! Demon!” You hiss at him, but it is for show. You are scared, trapped with this man in a place you can’t escape. Too weak to fight properly. Without thinking, you spit at him, landing your saliva on his chest. Oh, he doesn’t like that.

“One of these days sweetheart, that mouth of yours is gonna get you in a world of trouble.” A frown adorns his face as he says this, looking at the offending wet patch before drawing his eyes back to meet yours.

“Starting today.” In a flash he’s on you, roughly grabbing your queue at the base. You yelp in both surprise and pain, hands automatically clawing at his wrists. He pulls you off the wall to the edge of the bed. He stands before you. He yanks your head back, pulling your face upward.

“You don’t wanna talk? Fine. Let’s put that mouth of yours to good use then, shall we?” The grips your queue tighter, the searing pain lights your nerves once more and you hiss at the feeling. Tears threatening at the edge of your eyes.

You catch movement on the edge of your gaze. With horror you realise what he is doing. He’s unbuckling his pants.

‘Oh no no no, please, Great Mother NO! Not this! Anything but this!’ Your prayer is futile as you watch him pull out his half-hardened cock.

Quaritch didn’t think he’d find your fear so arousing. But that pleading look you give him every time he sees you, he can’t help the bolt of electricity that shoots through him. Even now he can see the fear in your eyes, he can see you know what’s about to happen, and he reveals in the power he has over you. Doesn’t help that you’ve been walking around in that get-up of yours.

He noticed you, that first time he walked into this cell. You definitely were a half-breed, with those five fingers and toes. Even more so did he notice the swell of your breasts, the expansion of your hips. From the images he’s seen on the data pads, you are clearly not like the rest of your kin. Your portions are almost too human.  He’s not sure if it’s this new body, or the memories of the man he’s emulating, but God damn he can’t help himself.

The frustration of it all, topped off with your stubbornness to cooperate, stagnating their operation too boot, has all been building up. He’s just about had enough. This is all your fault. Seems to reason that you should be the one to fix it, he figures.

Before you can even begin to beg, he pulls out a knife, bringing the sharp blade to where he has your queue in his hand.

“Don’t get any funny ideas darling. One wrong move, and it’s bye-bye Eywa. Understood?” Tears silently fall from your eyes; you nod when you feel him loosen his grip ever so lightly. Seeing those tears sends a pleasurable throb to the tip of his dick.

“Good girl.” He lets your head fall forward properly facing him, he shuffles closer, his legs hitting the side of the bed.

“Now, do you need to be told what to do, or do you already know?”

Of course you know. You spent an almost immeasurable amount of time with your beloved human. He showed you things you never dreamed of, touched you in ways your imagination could never suffice. But now those memories were to be tainted, forever marred by the actions of this Demon. Your hesitation is noted, and met with displeasure.

“I ain’t got all day sweetheart.”

With renewed tears you sit on your knees, and take him in one hand.

---

Slowly you pump, up and down, from base to tip. It doesn’t take long for him to harden. The sight of your tears dripping onto your exposed chest spurring him on.

He’s massive, you realise. You’re sure Na’vi men aren’t meant to be this well-endowed. You’re almost certain actually, from the stories you shared with you by your friends.

He is thick too; your fingers barely touch when encircled around him. He hums with pleasure, tightening his grip on your queue ever so slightly.

You squeeze tighter, pumping his cock with more force. You hear him suck in a breath.

He brings the knife away from your queue to your mouth.

“Open.” He commands, and you obey. “Wider.” He sticks the knife inside carefully, pressing the flat side of the blade onto your tongue. The cold metal tastes awful, making your mouth water. He uses his thumb to pull one side of your mouth away, examining.

The sight alone causes a shudder through his core. You peering up at him, tears in your eyes, tongue flat, mouth pulled open, drool falling freely. Oh yes, he could get used to this.

He removes the knife from your mouth, back to your queue.

“Use that pretty little mouth of yours darling.”

Your lips tremble at the thought of that massive thing in your mouth. But what choice do you have really? Your lifeline is in his hand; quite literally in fact.

He moves your head closer, loosening his grip to give you some leeway. “Watch those teeth darlin’” he warns as you lean closer still.

Slowly you open your mouth, and give his tip an experimental lick. You hear the Demon suck in a breath through his teeth when he does this. You lick his tip again, then take the hold head into your mouth.

The Demon exhales audibly.

You swirl your tongue around the tip, opening your mouth slightly to ease the motion, all the while pumping his cock with your hand to spread your saliva.

“Hnnn—fuck. Keep going darlin’…” The Demon praises you. Once you deem him sufficiently lubricated, you stick out your tongue and proceed to take more of his cock into your mouth. You stop half way before pulling back. You bring your head back down halfway, meeting your hand that pumps him from base to midway.

You set a slow place, squeezing him as hard as you can with your hand. You can hear his laboured breath as you suck his cock with practiced movements.

“You’ve done this before have you? Fucking whore…Bet you got men just lined up back home—!!!” His words come to abrupt halt, followed by a gasp, when you remove your hand from his cock and plunge the whole length into your mouth. He wasn’t expecting that.

You feel the tip of his dick stroke pass the base of your tongue and tease the inside of your neck. Though you’ve ever sucked any other cock other than your beloved, back when you were still relative to his size, he was sure to show you how to take his cock without chocking. Seems those lessons shall serve you well.

You pull back, tracing the vein on the side of his dick with your tongue. You bring his tip to your lips and swirl your tongue around it hastily, before sucking the whole length back down your throat.

“Ffffuuuuuck—” the Demon all but moans loudly, hips sway slightly.

He throws the knife to the floor suddenly, wraps your queue around one wrist, the grabs both sides of your head in his hands.

He starts fucking you like that, holding your head still and he pumps into your throat with reckless abandon. He unashamedly moans, feeling the soft smooth slick of your tongue graze his dick, while his tip meets the inner walls of your throat.

You don’t expect him to go so fast, the intrusion at such a speed shocks you, and you gag unintentionally. This doesn’t deter him at all though, seems to spur him on further. Faster he fucks you, powerful muscles clenched tight as he drives his hard cock down your bruising throat. Each time he can see the imprint of his dick push on your throat and it sends a jolt of pleasure through him.

You look up then, glistening eyes brimming with tears, nose running slightly. Your hands hold onto his wrists for balance. His face is contorted into one of inexplicable pleasure. Eyes half lidded, glazed over, mouth agape, he moans loudly without shame. He’s so close. He can feel it. He’s teetering on that precipice of release. He just needs a little bit more.

One hand leaves your head. He reaches to your shoulder to grab the lines of fabric there. With one powerful pull the threads break, beads and other small trinkets go flying about the room.

You make some kind of shocked noise around his cock; the vibrations send pleasurable waves all throughout.

“Aaaaahhh—fuck yes baby that’s it! Let me see you play with those pretty tits of yours! Come on now!” He yells as he brings his hand back to your head, holding you still once more, resuming his brutal pace.

Timidly you bring your hands to your now openly exposed breasts. You cup yourself in each hand, squeezing gently, you start to massage yourself in lazy circles. You moan around his cock without thinking, the feeling of playing yourself sending a small jolt of pleasure to your pussy.

“Come on baby, come on yes that’s it, you’re such a good girl for me, my fucking little savage whore! Just a little more!”

You move to pinch your nipples as you press your tits together, and you moan a muffled scream at the pleasure lighting your nerves.

That does it for him. With one final powerful thrust into your throat, he cums. Hard. You feel the thick streams of his seed coat the inner walls of your throat. He pulls back and thrusts back in a few more times, filling your mouth with his hot sticky cum.

He holds your head to the base of his cock, your nose pressed against his groin.

“Swallow it baby…Don’t waste a single drop now.” You swallow, drinking deep. You give his cock a couple hard sucks, making sure you drink every last drop. Slowly you pull your head back, his dick comes out with a pop. You open your mouth and stick out your tongue out of habit. Quaritch would always inspect your mouth like this, make sure you were a good girl and didn’t waste his gift to you.

The Demon smirks down at you, his breathing laboured. He sees your tail flick behind you, only then does he notice his also swaying behind him with reckless abandon. He releases your queue then. You almost weep at the relief that floods you. Without a word he puts his semi-soften cock back in his pants, collects his knife and secures it back in place. He gives himself a once over before turning to face you once more.

You’re still sitting on your knees. There’s a thick blush from your tits, up your neck, and splayed beautifully across your cheeks. You’re looking up at him with glistening eyes, apprehension on your face, clearly unsure of what is so happen now.

He clears his throat.

“I suggest, you think ‘bout cooperating. Next time, I might not be so nice.” He leaves without another word. You’re almost shocked by the hastened retreat. When the door shuts behind him, you release the breath you didn’t realise you were holding.

You immediately bring your braid to you front and hold it tight to your chest. You’re crying is renewed tenfold. To lose one’s queue is a fate worse than death. You’ve heard the horror stories. The pain, the fire, the seizures. It is an unsightly thing. And survival is not guaranteed. Even then, what sort of life could you really have, without your connection? Without being about to make tsaheylu? You continue to cry as you rock back on forth, tail wrapping around you in distress.

You swallow your excess saliva, still tasting that Demon’s cum on your tongue.

Without him here, looming over you with the threat of danger, you come to realise an awful thing.

He tastes just like Quaritch.

You all but scream in frustration as you cry even harder.

---

Tag List: @drinking-tea-and-be-obsessed, @lvangel98, @rsclopez, @onlyreadz @manymaria111, @kristeen31xxx

---

<previous chapter> | 2 | <next chapter>

[secret-smut-sideblog]

Prey Drive

Astarion x F! Dark Urge

18+ violence, death, dark urges (duh), bloodlust (literally), fingering (f!), roughness, deranged shit and I'm not sorry, tenderness

Her violent needs going unfed for too long, Astarion has an idea to help...

-

"Hunting..." She sighed, exhausted. Then seemed to consider. "Would that even work? Animals?"

It had been a long time since their last battle, her last bloodshed. Consumed with more mundane but equally important tasks.

She hid it well but he could see the strain in her body, the circles under her eyes. Knew she hadn't been sleeping, faking until the rest of the their companions fell under. Getting up to walk the perimeter of camp in circles, far from them. Far from him.

It hurt him to be away from her but he understood. If there was anything he understood it was hunger.

Pulling her reluctant to his tent, just for a moment, he promised. He had an idea.

"Honestly, I dont know." Laying on his bed roll he looked up at her, her gentle hand smoothing one of his curls back into place. Her eyes dark rimmed, tired. Sitting openly but limbs stiff.

Recognized so many of his own long nights in her exhaustion.

"But Gods, It's worth a shot right? Besides," Sitting up to reach her, putting on a fake pout. "I get so lonely out there most nights."

She rolled her eyes, smiling. "Oh you poor thing." Nuzzling into his neck. "How could I desert you in your time of need."

"Ready?" He asked, the glow of her eyes uncertain. They stood together on the treeline outside camp. The night air still.

"I guess so." She murmured. "It feels weird to be out of my armor." Smoothing her hands down her camp clothes.

"We'll be much quieter this way, darling."

"Yes, yes, you've explained." She huffed, the slightest tremble in her hand.

"Nervous?" He whispered, voice kind.

Her eyes fell shut, a dejected sigh. "Yeah."

He threaded his hand in hers. Thumb brushing the inside of her soft wrist.

"You aren't going to hurt me." A command, a blessing.

"I'm not going to hurt you." Gripped his hand in determination.

Though they had been careful, stealthy, there was little in the woods that night. He tried not to show the desperation on his face. He wanted to help, really wanted to help.

Between the two of them he was rarely the one to offer solutions. Often bringing in new problems. Needing to prove himself. He knew she would huff at him if she knew but it was important to him.

Her eyes didnt betray any despair as they stalked the empty forest, if anything she seemed more focused. Moving just as quiet as him, steps sure. Always thrived under pressure.

His ears picked up voices, seeing the faintest glimmer of light on the trail far beneath them. Hooded figures moving in the dark. Cultists, of course.

He sighed, no wonder there was nothing. These imbeciles stomping their way through like rothe in heat.

Turned to her to reassure her, they'd try again tomorrow.

A flash of silver hair.

Running. She was running.

Startled, he almost called out to her but had no time, planting his feet to take off after her. Ducking and weaving through the underbrush.

Gods, how was she so fast.

Like a bat out of Hells she burst from the treeline, leaping down onto one of the figures. Heard a startled cry. The three other robed men turning sharply in shock. Pulling daggers from their sides.

Glad he had the foresight to bring it he readied his bow. Firing down shot after shot into the chests of the men attempting to descend on her. The sound of many arrows hissing through the air.

His eyes still trained on the pierced men, assuring they stay dead, he stepped down onto the gravel.

A wave of blood struck the ground below the cultist she was straddling. Another. Another.

He hadnt seen her pull her dagger, had he?Confused he stepped closer. On tip-toe he skirted around her side, curious.

Her entire front drenched in blood, her sharp teeth ripped into flesh. Head wrenching side to side. Clawed hands gripping the soil. Moaning and slurping.

Gods, was she..? She was. She was drinking.

Heat spread like a fever from his pelvis, eyes wide.

She groaned in ecstasy, talons digging into the wound. Pulling open for more.

The whole front of her face, her hairline stained dark. Grinding her hips into her prey.

Unbelievably aroused he watched her, dumbstruck.

Lifting the limp body up she ripped and ripped with her talons, eyes closing as the last of the blood struck her. Leaning back on her haunches in a scattered puddle of it. Eyes closed she slicked it back into her hair. Throwing the body down, chest heaving.

Gods he needed her. Badly. But had no idea if she was sated. If he could be next if he tried to touch her. Surely one couldn't be enough.

Taking the dagger from the dead he plunged it into a chest. Sternum cracking against his force.

Glowing eyes whipped to his work. Up to him.

"Take more." He urged, his voice a pant.

Descending on fresh meat she kneeled next to the body, plunging her hand inside the hole he made. Other hand wrenching, cracking the ribcage open.

He moaned, straddling around her back. Pulling her hair from her neck. Licking long stripes up the still warm viscera coating her.

Crack, crack, crack. Her hand caressed the still heart, viscera coated up to the elbow. Expertly spinning the discarded dagger in her free hand she cut into the valves, freeing it.

Reaching his hand around her front he pushed his hand into her waistband. Finding her drenched. Plunging his fingers inside with a groan. Oh this was very wrong.

Her prize in hand she bit into it, a garbled whine of pleasure. Hips rolling into his hand, knees pushing out to give him more access.

Trailing messy kisses down her neck he was entranced. Pulling her collar from her shoulder, groaning at the line of clean skin that it revealed.

His free hand cupped her breast, the blood squelching against her, pushing between his fingers. Watching her bite and tear in awe, unbearably hard. Grinding into her lower back to get some relief.

Turning her head she caught his mouth in hers, her desperate whine filling his mouth. His other hand coming to rub hard on her clit. Blood soaked hand reaching up behind, talons digging into the back of his neck. The pain sharp, delicous.

She was already almost there, he could tell. Death, despite her best efforts, her strongest aphrodisiac. Her body rolling in waves, rising onto her knees. He kept pace with her, not letting up.

Ripping her shirt open, needing to see her breasts move with their riding. Biting and suckling on her earlobe.

"I'm, I-" She whimpered.

"Dont you dare hold back." He growled in her ear. Hand gripping her hair taut. Fingers unwavering.

Going rigid against his pull she muffled a moan. "No." He pulled her hair hard. "Louder."

She whined a handful of desperate moans, clenching hard on his fingers. Buckling into him, a huge wave about to hit her.

Teeth gnashing, a guttural growl erupted from her that slid into a shriek, her whole body erupting, shaking. Gripping his neck so hard she drew blood. Driving the dagger hard into the ground, just barely grazing his thigh. The slick gushing out of her onto his waiting fingers.

He came along with her, shocking himself. Shuddering hard against her gore slicked body. Hips stuttering against her back. Groaning a cry into her neck. The inside of his trousers a mess.

She turned to face him, catching his mouth in a hungry kiss. Fingers tangling in his hair.

The inside of her mouth still lined with blood. Licking it out of her with a growl.

The sound of many unfamiliar voices coming down the trail broke his trance, hers too it seemed.

Body stiffening she came back to herself, grabbing his hand and leaping up, moving like lightning to the cover of the forest.

Running again, he wanted to laugh. Watching both his feet and her. His love stained all red. Both of them a joined bloody blur in the moonlight.

Reaching a clearing she released his hand, fell to hands and knees. Dry heaving, coughing. Wrenching forward.

He fell in front of her, cupping her face in his hands. "Its okay, I'm okay, you're okay." A chant. Forced her eyes on his. "You're in control. You're right here."

She gripped his hand against her face, eyes wild. Took big shaky diaphragm breaths, trying to steady herself. He breathed in tandem with her, encouraging.

"You've got this, I'm here. I'm here."

She buried her face in his shoulder, gripping his shirt. Breathing him in. Relaxing into him. Coming back.

"How do you feel, Bhaal-babe?" He teased.

She groaned at the name, but he knew she loved it. "All spawned out, if I'm being honest." Paused, getting serious again. "Better, much better." She muffled into his shirt.

"I'm so proud of you." He smiled into her wet hair.

Heard her laugh. Pulling him further into her. "You're the only person who could ever say that about what I just did."

"Well, did I die?"

She snorted into his shirt. Sighed into him, body fully releasing. His hand trailing in her hair. Nuzzling, his voice soft into her. "You're so much stronger than you think."

After a moment she took a deep breath, pulling away. Smiling up at him. Her eyes so full of light it made his chest ache.

She looked down and groaned.

"Oh Gods, I'm going to have to throw these clothes away, arent I?" She pulled at them, dejected. "I like this shirt..."

"Oh please, we'll get you a new shirt. A better shirt."

"...Were we actually just fucking?" She groaned in embarrassment.

"That was my favorite part."

She hit his back in protest. "And our companions think I'm the deranged one..."

"Was it your favorite part?"

"Of course it was, you degenerate."

~

Part 4

[dovrt]

Rosekiller one shot

Tw: death

Barty goes to war, he doesn't have the money nor the influence like Evan does to avoid it forever. He has to.

He goes kicking and screaming and fighting the whole way but he has to go.

When they were younger, not yet directly touched by the conflicts between countries , Barty told Evan about his fear, his only fear . Death.

He never understood his father's points about fighting for honror or dying for their country. He was a child and like a child, he was scared of dying. What would come after it? How would hsi loved ones react? What would he leave behind? Why would any higher power take young lives anyway?

Questions plagued him and Evan didnt have the answers to any.

And now hes in an active war zone, death at his doorstep.

Honestly, Barty doesn't give a shit about either country, doesnt give a shit about his fellow soldiers or his fathers orders to make him porud.

He'd much rather be next to Evan, with the boy's hand in his hair. Evan would drag his fingers across Barty's skin in a manner he deemed utterly sinful.

Even now if he closed his eyes he could pretend the taller boy was in front of him.

Evan was older, although just by a few months. He was all wide shoulders, lazy grins and shy smiles. And his hands, arguably Bartys favourite part of him. They could caress and hold, they could mend and take care but they could also wield an axe and a gun, they could make Bartys mind forget everything and anything, dragging low groans from his throat. They could make him whine and beg, they could steady him or bruise him.

Its these things he thought of late at night under the cover of darkness. Evan.

Just the man, just the name.

Somehow it was always Evan he thought of when things got difficult.

Barty writes to him, for his own sanity. The longer he stays there, the more he loses it.

War is no place for him. Its too bloody, too noisy, too scary. He wants Evan.

He wants to be held, strong arms pulling him close. He wants to be safe. He wants to laugh at Evan's stupid jokes. He wants to kiss Evan, to touch him, to hear his voice.

His body and heart aches with longing.

He doesn't care for the other soldiers who laugh too loud and never sound like Evan. They're terrified of him, of the way he takes life after life in the warzone.

But violence was never his first choice, it was love.

So he writes and he writes and he writes. He never had a liking for literature like his friend Regulus, but he manages fine.

"My only solace is that you're untocuhed by Bellona, by the bloodshed of Mars" He writes. "Although, darling, you'd look divine covered in crimson"

Fuck he loves Evan. And he misses him so much his bones echo with desire.

"I think of you everyday, sunrise to sunset and take a break for dusk, only for you to be in my dreams"

He addresses them to E, his E. Thats all his fellow soldiers know Evan as. "That crazy one's darling E"

Barty hears them wondering about E's name, about how someone could have won Barty's cold heart.

Eloise, perhaps? or Elizabeth? Eleanor, Edith, Ella, Emilia, Emma, Eliza, Elliana, Ellie, Emily, Evelyn, Eden, Esther.

Evan.

Evan Rosier.

They wouldn't suggest a man's name.

Its a cruel, cruel world they live in, and Barty has never liked it. But Evan always managed to drag out the optimist in him, the mischief and sarcasm he thought he left in his childhood.

"Most of all, its boring, my darling" he writes, "So fucking boring. We barely fight and when we do, we win. Mostly. You'd call me a narcissist and egotistical, but I know my worth. The rest of these soldiers don't know their left from their right"

He tells Evan everything, even if he doesn't always get letters back. Mail gets lost on the way a lot. Sometimes Barty gets upset when Evan doesnt respond only to descover the ship went down. Sometimes Evan writes strong words about scaring him because Barty never replied to his letter, and Barty sends back a response about how he never got it in the first place.

"Really hope the ship doesnt go down again. Such a nuisance, catching you up on everything again" He scribbles down, imagining the expression on his lover's face when he reads it.

War is brutal and unyielding. It stretches on forever. Barty doesn't see himself getting out of it, not now, not ever. But he doesn't tell Evan that.

"We'll go watch a movie when I'm back" he makes false promises, "and kiss in the rain, your lip between my teeth. Just the way you like it. I'll kiss you in front of my father, I dont care"

War is brutal. it takes and it takes and it takes. Are there really winners and losers when the only ones losing seem to be the soldiers that lose their lives?

"My dearest E, I miss you like the sea misses the earth. The water shaking with anticipation in clouds, desperate to return to the ground as rain"

Barty is going to die, he knows it.

There's only way out of this war and its by taking Thanatos' hand.

"Regulus sent me a summary of his reading again" Barty writes, "Some old man a hundred years ago wrote about a man and a woman in love and somehow Regulus made it my problem. Try to punch some sense into him. But don't tell him I might be hooked onto what happens next. Its a guilty pleasure"

Barty doesn't have many guilty pleasures.

You could argue Evan was one of them, but he's not. Barty has never once been guilty about loving Evan, never.

"Regulus wrote to me, telling me Melpomene is the muse of tragedy" Barty could have been jealous of his friends, the ones who didn't have to come to war, didn't have everything stripped from them. But he's glad he's the one suffering because that means Evan doesn't have to and Regulus can keep reading his little stories. He'd die in war a thousand times over if his friends stayed safe. "Melpomene must have gotten quite the story from us"

Evan fills him in on gossip, Dorcas in love with someone, Pandora and her new inventions, Barty wishes he could be there for it all.

Evan can't draw for shit, but his stick figures could rival Michaelangelo for all Barty cares.

Evan, Evan, Evan, Evan. Its all he thinks about, like a broken record spinning and repeating the name. Evan.

He's so much more than a lover. He's a part of Barty. He's seen the good bad and the ugly. He's stuck around for it all.

"Im angry most of the time" He scribbles one night, shaking from barely contained fury after a mission gone wrong. "Angry because my father is the biggest piece of shit to ever grace the earth. Angry because I want you I need you in my hand, in my arms, in my bed bext to me. I'm angry because the world was never kind to us. I'm angry because I wish I could kiss you now. I would. I'd kiss you in front of the world, grab you by the jaw and not let go. I want to taste you, I want you to linger on my tongue, to ruin my life. I'm angry because..." because I'm scared.

Barty never lets anyone see the letters Evan sends, scowling at anyone who ever tries to peek. He's got quite the reputation now. He'd cut off a finger or two before he let anyone have a taste of Evan's words. They're for him. Just for him.

"Come back" Evan writes, "Come back or I'll publish your writing for the world. Let everyone see how embarrassingly in love you are. Regulus alone would have a field day with the poem you once attempted"

Barty laughs because he can't help it. Its so on brand for Evan to threaten him with that.

"My writing is scacred, how dare you?" He writes back. "Maybe that would help the world understand us, though. Maybe one day there would be a world free of war and hate. And just us, together, kissing in front of my father as I flip him off"

"You'd look sharp in a suit on our wedding day" Evan writes back. "I'd love to see you in it. I'd love to take it off"

Fuck.

"Darling, I'd wear a wedding dress if you wanted. I'd do anything for you (and if it pissed my father off)" Barty scrawls with a rare smile on his face.

The last letter Evan Rosier ever got from Barty Crouch Jr was about wearing a dress to their hypothetical wedding.

Decades in the future, when they're all well and gone, buried so they're only dust and bones, their letters are found again.

Love letters from wars always fill people with a sad and romantic feeling. They always remind people that love is eternal, the only constant in the world of destruction and tragedy. No matter how it ended, at least the love was there.

Historians scratch their heads over who the "Darling E" was. Some say Eloise or Elizabeth? Eleanor, Edith, Ella, Emilia, Emma, Eliza, Elliana, Ellie, Emily, Evelyn, Eden, Esther.

Evan, says one.

Evan Rosier. Barty Crouch Jr. Decades after theyre gone, their love makes headlines. Flirty and sweet, cute and filthy, rebellious and devoted, they call the pair.

Barty Crouch Jr died at war, bleeding out in pain, supposedly with his eyes wide in fear and fingers digging into the earth, desperate to live.

Evan Rosier died not long after, peacefully in his bed. Heartbreak, the doctors said.

Their letters were found in a house that used to belong to their mutual friend, Regulus Black.

[florence-end]

Flying Home

Cassian x fem!reader (no use of y/n).

Warnings: attempted wing clipping/kidnapping so some violence/threat, hiding in a small space?

Summary: Cassian rescues you when some males from your camp are caught trying to clip your wings but can he keep you safe when they come back to finish the job?

Everyone freezes at the sight of the Lord of Bloodshed. Relief and fear, excitement and skepticism fill your body as you wait to see who will break the silence.

You were tied to the post in the centre of the Illyrian camp you grew up in, hissing and kicking at the males surrounding you as they attempted to clip your wings until you felt the presence of the approaching General, his seven siphons glowing brightly as they channelled his pure power. You felt the snap of the mating bond take hold in your chest as you met his eyes and you knew he felt it too. The males moments from maiming you must have caught on quickly as they hastily stepped back from you as if you were about to burst into flames.

You’ve heard Cassian and the rest of the High Lord’s inner circle are against wing clipping and have tried to ban it, but their protection has not reached your comparatively small and remote village. Surely if they cared so much, they would be ensuring the law was followed across all of Illyria so maybe the rumours are false. Maybe the males are actually just waiting for the General’s command to continue their brutality. You try to keep your face defiant and not give these monsters the satisfaction of your terror.

Cassian feels the onslaught of your heightened emotions hit him squarely in the chest. He notes your gritted teeth, set jaw, bound hands curled into fists, and he absorbs every drop of your rage as he finally addresses Iwan, the leader of the group who had taken you from your home not even ten minutes before.

“What the hell is happening here?” He snarls.

“We are doing what we must to protect our women. You and your half breed high lord would have them fighting and dying in wars if we allow them to fly so someone has to act in their best interests,” declares Iwan, although the slight tremor in his voice takes some of the conviction from his words.

Cassian lets out a growl so animalistic, you shiver. “Untie her now, you piece of shit. Before I rip your wings clean off your back.”

Iwan and his cronies begin to object, but a blast of red light erupts from the siphon in the centre of Cassian’s chest, knocking them all out cold.

“They’ll answer to the High Lord tomorrow morning. I won’t let them get away with this,” Cassian promises as he steps over them and carefully frees you from the ropes binding your wrists to the pole. The gentleness in his hands is so at odds with his size and power. “Are you hurt?”

You shake your head, unable to summon words right now as the adrenaline leaves your body. Mere minutes ago, you were happily nestled in your bed, and now you have escaped an attempted wing clipping and found your mate. You are overwhelmed.

Cassian ushers you into the cosy house just off the main square of the camp, his hand warm and comforting on your back. You’ve never been inside, but you know the small dwelling is reserved for only the most important visitors. The large male lit the fire, sat you down in front of it and wrapped a blanket around your shoulders. You stare into the flames, trying to force your spinning thoughts to catch up to your body and allow you to find your voice.

As a mug of warm tea is pushed into your hands, you pull your gaze from the fireplace and look up into the warm eyes that are already fixed on your face warily, as if waiting for you to flip back into the fight or flight headspace you were in when he arrived.

The tea soothes your throat, raw from screaming, and you croak out your name. Your mate smiles, the concern swirling in his eyes lessening slightly as he sits down next to you.

“It’s an honour to meet you. I’m Cassian. I’m sorry I didn’t arrive sooner tonight. I received the message that a wing clipping was to take place but no one knew which of the remote camps it would be.”

“You came all the way here to stop a clipping?” You ask, stunned that a member of the Night Court Inner Circle would go to such efforts to protect a lesser fae’s wings, Illyrian or not.

“Of course. No Illyrian should be deprived of their ability to fly,” Cassian responds with conviction. The remaining tension leaves your body when you find nothing but honesty in his face, lit by the fire before you.

Conversation flows from there as Cassian explains the abilities of his brother Azriel, who was the one to alert him about Iwan’s plans. In turn, you tell Cassian about your life, your friends at your camp, and your wish to learn to fight and join the Valkyries one day. As the night draws on, your head feels heavier and heavier until it drops onto your mate’s shoulder and you fall asleep. The last thing you register as you slip into unconsciousness is the press of Cassian’s lips against your hair.

In the morning, you wake up alone in the warm house, comfortably tucked under the blanket that had been wrapped around you last night. Cassian is nowhere to be found but a note on the table beside the sofa you currently occupy explains that the High Lord and other members of his family had arrived to deal with the group of wing clippers that had snatched you. The note also tells you that you will be safe where you are if you wish to stay put until he returns. You trust your new mate and settle back into the plush cushions, preparing to get some more sleep.

Your peace is short lived.

Suddenly the door crashes open and you hear unknown male voices dividing up areas of the house to search for you. You roll onto the floor, hidden from sight, and crawl to the nearest window with your wings tucked in tight. They’re ransacking the cosy house, and you can hear their weapons clanking with each heavy footstep. With your heartbeat pounding in your ears, you grab a small dagger that you mercifully spot tucked into the curtain, and you climb through the window.

Once out in the open of the camp, you flee. You know you can’t fly away as all the males in the camp will spot you immediately and catch you before you can escape. There’s no sign of your mate or his family and you know better than to shout for help. Instead you remain on foot, dashing down the main dirt track in the centre of the camp until you come to the small outbuilding that houses the wood reserves for fires during the winter months. You crawl through the hatch, back up into the furthest corner and grip your dagger in front of you. You would not be caught again.

You are unsure how much time passes as you stay crouched in the darkness. Male shouting and roaring can be heard, and you want to believe that Cassian has noticed your absence and is looking for you by now but you can’t risk it. Your muscles ache from your hunched position. You wish you had found a hiding place with a better escape route as you realise you’d be very easily trapped in this cold, dark structure if someone finds you.

Then a silhouette appears, peering through the hatch you used to climb into the storage building. You grip your dagger so tightly, your knuckles turn white. Your wings, already crumpled from your crouch against the wall, curl even tighter behind you as if you can hide them from the dark figure. Then, the shadowy stranger says your name and begins reaching toward you.

“Stay back! I have a weapon and I’ll cut your hand off if you come any closer!” You warn, silent tears now rolling down your face.

The male says your name again, his voice aiming to soothe. You notice the blue siphons on the back of his hand, so similar to Cassian’s.

“My name is Azriel. We haven’t met yet but I think my brother has mentioned me, my shadows. Can you see them?” He asks. You realise you can see what look like inky wisps of smoke dancing around the male’s hand and up his arm. You lower your dagger slightly and crawl forward to get a better view in the light.

Sure enough, shadows are swarming Azriel as if reporting every change of your heart rate and spike of fear so he can react accordingly. He offers you a small smile.

“I know you’re scared and overwhelmed but I won’t hurt you. I won’t let anyone else hurt you. Rhys and Mor have rounded up the remaining wing clippers so there is no one hunting you. Let me help you out of there and bring you back to Cassian. He’s tearing the camp apart looking for you and frankly I don’t feel like cleaning up more of his mess than I already have to.”

You smile despite yourself. It might be naive but you believe Azriel. You allow him to take your hand, although he doesn’t try to take your weapon from you, and guide you back out into the cold air. No sooner than your feet hit the ground, Cassian lands beside Azriel having flown straight to you as soon as Rhys saw your location in his brother’s mind. His movements are frantic as he strides forwards, his eyes scanning every inch of you for signs of injury. His hands twitch with the need to touch you, to physically feel that you’re alright.

And despite barely knowing him, despite all your past encounters with males that told you to be wary, despite not knowing whether he even wanted you as his mate, you drop the dagger and throw yourself into his arms. He catches you easily, allowing you to bury yourself in his chest and shielding you from the cold with his large solid arms. The bond thrums with your combined relief and you never want to leave the safety of his embrace. No words are spoken until the High Lord and his third-in-command appear behind you.

“Let’s get you lovebirds home without any more dramatics, shall we?” Mor teases. You feel Cassian’s annoyance flare up but it disappears just as quickly when you let out a light laugh.

A home with Cassian sounds like heaven.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Way more people saw my first fic than I ever expected to so I’m super nervous to post something else now. I hope you like it! I might write something for Az next. All feedback is appreciated 💕

[brights-place]

Hii! If it’s okay, could I please request some hcs of Leif from MID with a motherly s/o?

The reader doesn’t have to be female, I just think that he deserves a nurturing partner after all that childhood trauma

Lief X Motherly! Reader

Pairings: Leif X Reader

Warnings: Fluff, Some angsty shit, mentions of Murder, Cursing A/N: Dude I can't agree more that Lief deserves someone to nurture him LIKE OMLLLLLLLLL! this man when Rhys and him had the argument and leif said "your not the only one who tells me that" I was so shocked - Leif had like a really SHITTY PAST DUDE - You were Ava's neighbor so you wanted to greet her the day after her interview - So having you be there makes him so confused how could you handle him? how could you handle his personality - Leif is a bit feisty but also very bold when it comes to things and leif can be shown to be slightly challenging and quick to assume things such as him instantly assuming Ava your BFF was dead when she was found to be unconscious. - Leif was shown to be dangerous as shown by the many threats towards Ava's life... yet you showed cared for him? you wrapped up him whenever he got hurt and would scold him - He first got pissed at you and thought you were challenging him on his healing abilities - but you were showing him kindness which most daemos find weak - You took care of Ava properly and made sure she was fine and all the daemos men called you Ava's head Lady in Waiting  - You were there in the morning helped and fixed her place as you took care of her. Ava saw you as a mother figure yes she has her own parents but having you was nice - You cared for her and showed her motherly attention and when you tried to show the other daemos that care - Violent tendencies come to him so he pulls out his sickles and would try to charge at someone so you have to restrain him the most and he gets pissy

- When Leif came across you he was immediately struck by your warm and comforting presence. - When someone gets your attention he gets defensive and would try get your attention back onto him - he has abandonment issues so he likes to be by your side but he doesn't speak up about it at all for example Ava was explaining how to put on the clothes for the others - You know how he likes poking ava with you its even worse he pokes but sometimes likes to touch diffrent parts of your bodies randomly. You could be washing dishes and he would pop up behind you touching your waist an then try to scold him but he's always far away - Even as a healer he finds it annoying how you try to patch him up - He likes to sharpen his sickles and shows it off to you as you just make sure he is alright - He likes to talk about him being a ex-assassin and flezes it as you tell him how cruel it was as he just stares at you - Believe it or not Leif respects you more than anyone in this world aka earth I mean- have you seen yourself? but he says he doesn't respect anyone - The group saw you punch a guy who tried to touch you and ava inappropriately due to being drunk the guy passed out with a singular punch - You gained their respect but when leif tried to join in on punching the male you dragged his ass away - he started to like you after awhile and would flirtatiously threaten you as you scold him like always which he enjoys - He smirks alot and I mean alot but he enjoys staring at you when you do things - You asked him about his past and he was hesitant and you apologized and told him when he was ready he told you anyway as you frowned telling him that he didn't deserve that -  you soon pointed out to him that distracting himself from his trauma by focusing all of his energy into his work killing started to become recreational for him as it was the only mechanism that could relieve emotional pain. - he became so dependent on bloodshed to keep him mentally stable almost as if it were an addiction - Leif would look away and scoff and tries to tell you off as you deadpan at him with an look 'Bro I know' - You give him ideas on how to relax himself as you give him plants for him to take care of due to noticing when you brought a plant to give to Ava he wouldn't stop staring at it - So you give him these plants to look after and explain they need light and water - He flexes it and says it was 'special' cause he tried to repeat all the facts you say about them so he seems smart - so when he watched one die after a couple of days he freaks out and rushes to ava demanding her to summon you cause you weren't there due to you being at work - You got off work and explained to Leif that it died due to not being taken care of so he makes sure to ask if he's doing stuff correctly which makes you confused how he is so calm - He has a short patience and would go off at a moment not like Asch but still has a short temper - threatens Ava for him to hangout at your apartment whenever you try to leave as Ava panics as you tell Leif to stop - You tell him that your just next door and come by whenever and he starts becoming an annoying pest - Ava would drag Leif to your place as others complain as Ava tells them to shut up as Ava knocks on your door as you open the door with a tired look wearing a face mask and your Pajamas wearing duck slippers and baggy sweatpants and a white shirt with a goose holding a knife in its mouth with bubbly words 'Peace was never the option' above it as Leif smirked at you.

- A sigh past your lips as Ava left to go to bed and leif entereed your apartment as you motioned for him to sleep on your bed as you were heading to the couch - This mother fucker decided to pull you into the bed and tell you to just sleep here as you warn him if he breaks anything your gonna tell ava - You fell asleep drooling onto bed unaware the leif clinged onto you enjoying the warmth you shared - it was weird how someone as caring and nurturing as you were caring for a blood thirsty ex-assassin - In the moments that you both have interacted with each other Leif felt something that he hadn't in a long time... Comfort

reblogs + comments are appreciated ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

©brights-place 2023 — do not repost on another platform, copy, translate or edit my works! if you fit my DNI list please don't interact