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imaginesmai · 7 months

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Missed target - Azriel

Here it is! So many people asked to be tagged on this I got OVERWHELMED. Thanks for the love!I'm thinking about a second part where Azriel decides to repeat all the missed efforts and treat you like the queen you are. Let me know what you think.

Plot: Azriel is convinced Elain was made for him. Three sisters for three brothers, and no one can make him change his mind. But someone or something is determinated to change the course of fate on his behalf. No matter how hard he tries.

The Suriel 1

The Suriel watched the shadowsinger sharpen his blades in the forest, oblivious to his presence. Not even his shadows could detect the ancient creature, and he was proud of that. Of all the beings that he had seen, all the people that had summoned him, Azriel was who drew his curiosity.

Maybe the male in front of him didn’t remember, or maybe he did but had decided not to tell a soul about it. The Suriel did remember, and he had been observing since that night where a young, scarred and devasted Azriel had summoned him.

“What is wrong with me? Why does nobody love me? I want to know – I want to know if someone will love me, please”

The child didn’t understand what a Suriel was, or what type of questions he could answer. Still, the Suriel held the sobbing kid for one night, just one night, and let himself wonder what would it be to feel, to dream, like fae and humans did.

Something changed in the male’s stance, a muscle twitching in his left wing, and the Suriel knew he didn’t have much time left before he was noticed. He risked another glance at the unmoving figure, shadows surrounding the clearing where he stood.

As he vanished from the sight, the Suriel smiled briefly, oddly happy that that kid’s broken questions were about to be answered.

Missed date

Azriel liked Elain, more than he should. He liked her innocence, the way her hair fell over her shoulder, her full lips and thin waist. He liked the dresses she wore and the flowers she grew, even the way her voice sounded when she said his name. He liked liked her, and felt like a foolish teen when she was around.

Rhysand had warned him against it, and the Archeron sister had a mate – but still, Azriel hoped Elain would like him back. Even though he had been with plenty of women before, that time it felt different, and he didn’t know why.

Ignoring the signs against his desires, he had decided to act on his feelings.

Azriel had invited Elain to have dinner with him that night, in a lovely restaurant in Velaris. Sure, he might have said Cassian and Nesta were coming, and then proceeded to invite the couple knowing they wouldn’t even make it out of the bedroom with their clothes on. The plan had gone just fine – Cassian and Nesta had talked about it during lunch time, giving the impression it was just a friendly dinner, and then proceeded to lock themselves in their room for the rest of the day. Elain had smiled and asked about the hour, and Azriel had chosen his best shirt.

But the Cauldron musth have had other plans, because another minute passed by and he was sitting by himself in the restaurant, getting strange looks from the staff.

“Are you ready to order?”

He looked up to the waiter, with a tight smile on his face. Azriel guessed they were debating if kicking him out was worth angering the spymaster of the court.

“Still waiting” he grumbled, looking to the closed doors. “What time is it?”

“Nine thirty, sir. Would you like to… drink something?”

“Water is fine”

They had agreed to meet at nine, and part of him refused to think he had been stood up. That sweet, charming Elain who blushed under his gaze wouldn’t show up. He tried to come up with a reason behind her absence, and was sure there was a reasonable one, but he felt his excitement die as the clock ticked away.

Azriel pursed his lips when the waiter didn’t leave, not meeting his eyes. He would leave, but he would wait a little longer. For her sake, he would wait until the sun came up. The male cleared his throat and Azriel stared at the plants decorating the entrance.

It was a nice plant.

“Is the person you’re waiting for coming soon?”

“If she was, I wouldn’t be waiting here” his words were bitter, not towards the waiter, but at the situation.

“Maybe you could move to the counter and wait there, sir? I… there are customers waiting and – “

Before the man could dig his own grave further, Azriel pushed his chair back and walked towards said counter with his jacket on his arm. He refused to look at the waiter and let him know just how embarrassed he was, how disappointed in himself and in her.

The restaurant had a small counter where some couples shared their food and friends drank loudly. He damned his luck for choosing the busiest day to be stood up. Scanning the crowd, he found an empty seat at the corner and sat on a stool, ordering a beer.

Alcohol would only make it worse, but he guessed he was already done for. Ten more minutes, he promised himself. If Elain didn’t walk through those doors in the next ten minutes, he would leave and apologize to Rhys for his stubbornness.

Two minutes passed by, and he grew sick of watching the couple in front of him giggling in secrets.

Another three, and he counted each plant that decorated the restaurant. There were twenty-five without the artificial ones.

Seven minutes after his first beer, the waiter asked him if he wanted anything else and he just growled back.

His fingers were clenching painfully around the hem of his jacket when the ten minutes passed by. He was ready to get up when something sweet and floral hit his nose, leaving his mind blank for a second. Azriel blinked surprised at the smell, distinct from the elegant ones in the restaurant. With half smile, he turned to his right hoping to see Elain, pleasantly surprised with her choice of perfume.

Only that the woman who sat next to him wasn’t Elain, but another fae woman with a similar smell. Azriel scanned her outfit before you noticed him, before he could reprimand himself for checking you out.

You were wearing a loose blue and bright skirt with an elegant top, that left part of your collarbone visible. He felt something rush to his chest up to his cheeks while he stared at the smooth skin, and he willed himself to look up to your face.

“Guess this is where they discard the stood up, hm?” you looked at him and he blinked surprised. “I’ve been sitting next to the window for an hour now. I don’t think he’s showing up”

“Who?” Azriel asked dumbly, not thinking anything better.

“My friend set me up on a blind date, but he didn’t show up. At least the bread was good” you shrugged, finally looking away from Azriel. “Hi. Can I get a soda?”

Azriel felt his previous resolution of leaving the restaurant dissolve. You smelt just like her, but so different at the same time. Your voice still reverberated on his chest as you waited for your drink, stealing glances at the silent male at your side. It was strange for him to have his throat swallowing back the words that he wanted to say, have his mind blank of any comeback.

But as he stared at you, he wondered if you were a witch and had casted a spell on him.

“Are you… my date?” you finally asked when your soda came back, looking him up and down. “I’ve seen you standing here for a while”

“I’m Azriel”

“I don’t know the name of my date” you stated, and Azriel just prayed that you wouldn’t notice the shadows he couldn’t control revolving around your feet. “I’m Y/N”

“No”

He begged himself to say something else, to break the awkward silence or leave. After all, he had gone to that restaurant to meet Elain, not a stranger who had been stood up. But all the wit and intelligence that had won him the title of Shadowsinger and Spymaster seemed to seep away through his pores, and he couldn’t get back any of it.

You smiled at him tightly and turned to look around, finally breaking eye contact. Azriel got up without saying anything else and walked towards the doors, leaving a generous amount of money on the counter. You didn’t say goodbye and he didn’t bother looking back, his body stiff with your awkward encounter.

When he arrived to the house, he found a very regretful and very sick Elain who had been in bed all afternoon. She apologized again and again until he forced her back in bed and tucked her in. They agreed they would repeat again, sometime, but Azriel found himself less excited than that morning. He didn’t blame her – he couldn’t, when he had seen how her knees trembled with coughs and had heard her stuffy voice.

As he laid down that night in this enormous bed, his shadows didn’t whisper about Elain or brought back her smell, that most nights didn’t let him sleep. They caressed his hands in silence, with the memory of a sweet, floral smell that didn’t belong to the girl he liked.

The market

Rhysand and Cassian were away for a week, and while Azriel usually missed his brothers, that time he was beyond himself. Not only he wouldn’t be hearing Nesta and Cassian’s late-night activities, but he would be alone with his favorite Archeron sister, since Feyre and Nesta had decided to leave too.

There were plans for them, big ideas that he had crafted the previous night as he laid awake in the dark. The first one, most important, would be to find an excuse to talk to Elain.

She had left for the market as Azriel completed his morning training, and the male didn’t miss how she blushed at his presence. She had explained briefly her plans to him and had left in a rush. Azriel, who religiously trained each day, decided to postpone his activities and refill the house’s pantry.

It took him a while to come up with something to buy, even longer to gather the courage to follow his plan. By the time he was walking through the lively market-street, he was certain Elain would be leaving.

But he was lucky, because he spotted the familiar head a few stands away. Azriel felt the usual acceleration of his heart rhythm, the blood rushing to his head. His wings fluttered and he walked with little decision to where Elain was buying some fruits.

It seemed, with so little decision, that she moved away before he could reach him.

The game of cat and mouse continued for what felt like forever, Azriel only sniffling her before she left to a new stand. The street seemed endless, and the buyers too talkative and pushy. They bumped against his wings, apologized, and proceeded to block his way in awe for five to ten seconds.

When he saw Elain holding enough bags to cause him a backpain, he decided pushing people in return was worthy and walked faster.

Before she could complain, he picked up her bags from her arms carefully, resisting the urge of flinching at how heavy they were.

“Here, let me” Azriel extended his free arm, watching without looking up as it filled slowly with more bags. “These are heavy. What do we need so much food for?”

“Are you planning to eat it with me?”

Azriel looked up and stared into a pair of bright eyes that certainly weren’t Elain’s. Nor was your hair pulled back in a ribbon, or the worn-out cape hanging from your frame. His shadows helpfully recognized you from the missed date and awkward encounter, and he blinked surprised.

He opened and closed his mouth. Proudly, he could argue that only few times someone managed to make him speechless. But he didn’t find anything to say as he held half of your bags, looking a caught thief.

Your smile lowered at his surprise. Surely, you expected a kind stranger helping you with your heavy groceries, not him. Just as he didn’t expect you.

“Can I… have that back?” you asked when he didn’t move, only stared at you. “Please?”

The standard, cordial reaction would have been to apologize and carry the bags for you. If Azriel’s brain hadn’t stopped functioning, he would have explained he had confused you with someone else and would be on his merry way to find Elain.

But his heart wouldn’t stop beating stubbornly against his chest, loudly on his ears. His shadows, that you had noticed by now, were tangling themselves between your knees, holding part of the weight themselves.

He tried not to make it too obvious when he inhaled your essence, so characteristically nice. Instead of doing any of the rational things, he dropped your bags to the ground with a loud crack and a wet splash and turned around, disappearing into the crowd.

The flowers

Feyre had given him the directions, and he had quickly written them on a piece of paper as his high-lady prepared Nyx’s bottle, cradled the fussy baby and ate her own breakfast.

He was extremely thankful for her help, because she had also had the idea to give Elain a bouquet of flowers. Azriel felt bad about ignoring her for the two days they were alone, too busy trying to regain what was left of his dignity after the market. So, he had prepared the flowers and put them together with a blue ribbon, and had asked Feyre where Elain was staying.

He had walked through the streets of Velaris with a content smile, humming to himself in silence. His shadows were active that morning, dancing between his feet and knees, and tangling themselves in the flowers. He couldn’t explain the sudden urge of joy if not for the imminent encounter with Elain, who had been on his mind for two days straight.

The rays of sun warmed his cheeks, and he felt extremely lucky.

It only took him ten minutes to reach his destination, a busy street in the center of the town. People sneaked glances at him and whispered, as if he wouldn’t hear them. Azriel stopped in front of a white wooden door. It looked old and worn, and matched the pots with flowers on the window. It was a cozy house, exactly what Azriel had imagined Elain’s house to be.

She had moved out a few months ago, claiming she needed her own space. And he had yet to visit her place – which, once he realized he was about to do it for the first time, made him kind of nervous.

Azriel stood in front of the door, his frame covering the whole space. Between his shoulders and wings he shadowed it, and he felt weirdly insecure. Something fell to the ground inside, probably a bag, and even though he knew Elain would be inside, Azriel recoiled back.

In a pathetic attempt to make his intention known, he raised his fist.

Knock, give her the flowers, apologize, leave.

Don’t throw them on her like a burning pot.

Knock, give her the flowers, apologize, leave.

Try to smile without looking creepy.

Knock, give her the flowers, apologize, leave.

He heard soft humming from the inside, and the fact that it was the exact same melody he had been humming on his way there threatened to give him a heart attack. Before he could think better, he quickly searched his pocket for a pen while trashing for the tag of the bouquet.

In the meantime, he heard the humming coming closer and closer to the door. It was a sweet melody, one he had loved since he was a kid, that brought a selfish smile to his face. Who was the world to tell him they weren’t meant to be, if their minds aligned like that?

Azriel found the pen and, leaning against the brick wall, scribbled down a quick note on the tag. His handwritten was shaky, not neat nor perfect, and he felt a bead of sweat rolling down the corner of his neck.

Once he was finished, he tucked the tag between the stems and placed the bouquet delicately on the ground. He mentally kicked himself at his stupidity, and when he rose back, he crossed his arms in front of his chest.

He was the shadowsinger. The spymaster. People feared him, respected him, and he had had enough women in his bed to know he could get them. They liked him, men and women, and he had never had an issue before. And there he was, leaving a bouquet of flowers like a coward because he couldn’t knock.

All because of the stupid melody.

His impulsive thoughts won again and he crouched to write down his name at the bottom of the note. Only having his good luck ran out and knock his head against a pot when he rose back up. Azriel cursed under his breath at the sharp pain, but wasn’t fast enough to catch the pot.

He didn’t know what worried him most – that he was sad because the humming stopped, or that it stopped. Azriel didn’t need his fae hearing or shadows to hear the approaching steps, and he quickly retreated into the darkness. Just as he appeared in the other corner of the streets, hidden from the public’s eye, the door opened.

“Hello?”

Azriel let his lips part in surprise when Elain didn’t peer at the street, but you. The stranger with a memorizing smell that had been stood up. The girl whose bags he had dropped in the middle of the street.

You were wearing a stained apron, and had been clearly cooking. Azriel felt the sudden need to know what. What you were doing that made you look like that, that made Azriel’s rebellious heart jump.

He watched as you looked to both sides of the street, smiling to acquittances and finally noticing the bouquet. Your eyebrows almost rose to your hairline and an adorable shade of pink covered your chest. You quickly covered your mouth, but Azriel’s bones reverberated at the sound of your giggle. He found himself wondering if you were curling your toes in your shoes.

Leaning down, you picked the flowers and Azriel’s stupid smile, that had no right to be on his face, dropped.

He had signed it.

Your eyes scanned the tag and read through his words at a sickening speed. Sorry about last week, hope I wasn’t too much of a dick. Yours, Azriel

His shadows swallowed him before he could ask the Cauldron to dig a hole and swallowed him, but he could still see your content smile and have the utter and complete realization that your smile shadowed Elain’s.

The dance

“When have you ever cleaned up so nice?” Cassian asked him as he invaded his room, with no warning.

“Whenever you’re not around to see it” he answered back, not tearing his eyes away from his tie’s knot on the mirror. “So I don’t eclipse you”

Cassian scoffed and threw himself on the perfectly made bed. Azriel didn’t bother asking him to move, because while any other time he would have kicked him out, his bed was the farthest point from his work desk. Where, between patrol reports and court’s correspondence, were a month’s worth of letters between you two.

His hands trembled even more at the thought of his brother finding about it. He was already nervous enough at the premise of dancing with Elain tonight, at the thought of her wearing the bracelet he had sent her that matched his tie. Azriel didn’t need to think about the pointless, certainly not important letters that he shared with you.

“Nesta has kicked me out of our room” the male proclaimed. “She’s determinated to get to the ball on time. As if me not seeing her now would change our early departure”

“You’re disgusting” Azriel met his brother’s stare through the mirror.

“And you’re jealous. When was the last time you got laid?” Cassian raised her eyebrows suggestibly. “Anyone in mind for this particularly night?”

“Nesta, if you leave her unsatisfied”

“Can it be me if I’m unsatisfied?”

Cassian’s laugh boomed through the room and took Azriel’s mind out of the last hours’ frenzy. He had wanted to be excited, had been thinking about Feyre’s birthday ball for months now. Thinking about how Elain and him would dance, proving Rhysand that they were a match and should be together.

Indeed, Azriel had been excited about it until a month ago. When he found himself cutting his encounters with Elain short when a note came through, falling asleep with thoughts of a different woman on his mind.

He hadn’t seen you since the incident of the flowers, and his intention was to never see you again. But then, he had found a note on his training room, delivered by Nuala. I’m glad we both agree you were a dick that day, but if my forgiveness has you loosing nights of sleep, I forgive you. Although, for the next time, don’t be disappearing from a crime scene – those flowers were expensive.

Azriel had found it and had scoffed a laugh, a sound foreign to his ears. He had replied and had sent Nuala back to your house, with an apologetic smile.

Seems that I keep encountering you when I don’t mean to. Those flowers were for someone else, but I’m happy to hear that I will be sleeping soundly from now on. Sorry for your pot. If it makes you feel better, fate was my witness and gifted me with a nasty bump.

Two notes evolved to another two, then to four more, and suddenly, Azriel found himself sending you noted almost every day, sharing stupid facts and reading about your day.

“Is it because Elain?”

The mood was broken and shattered at the word of the fae, and Azriel finished his knot to turn and look at Cassian.

“Don’t judge me. I’m not Rhys ‘don’t you dare to touch my sis-in-law’ or Mor ‘bad choices are made’” Cassian lifted his arms slightly. “I’m just curious”

“Am I cleaning up nice for my high-lady and friend’s birthday ball? Yes, unlike you, I do care about having a clean presence” he looked down to his jacket. “Your shirt is stained with Nesta’s lipstick”

“Oh, I plan to let her stain more than my shirt” he chuckled.

Azriel rolled his eyes and turned towards the door without saying anything else.

He walked with Cassian through the long hallways until they reached the main hall, talking about training and pointless topics. The usual knot on his stomach loosened a bit when he was with him, even if he wouldn’t say it out loud. He knew Cassian only looked for him in those social events for his sake – because he knew how much Azriel struggled with the attention, with the looks.

For the first minutes, he stood by his side silently as Cassian greeted different people that Azriel didn’t want to talk with. He engaged short conversations with his family, laughed softly at Mor’s attempt of escaping with the wine, and entertained Nyx briefly.

He kept looking at the main doors, waiting for Elain to walk through so he could regain that excitement, that want, that seemed to seep through his fingers lately.

When the first dance started, Rhysand took Feyre’s hand and dragged her through the floor, looking like a regius couple. Mor took a giggling Nyx in her arms and danced in the corner, and Cassian used the opportunity to sneak with Nesta.

Azriel quickly found himself in the middle of dancing couples, and he swore the knot of his tie got tighter. He looked around for Elain, tried to identify her sweet smell or long hair, but he didn’t find her.

“She’s not coming, you know?” Amren’s voice appeared to her right, and he turned to find her leaning against a wall.

“Who’s not coming?”

“Elain” she explained. “She left yesterday with Lucien to get to know his court. Thought you, of all people, should know”

Had he been so out of it that he hadn’t notice it? Had he tried so hard to think about her that he hadn’t talked to her? He tried to think of a conversation where Elain told him that she wouldn’t be assisting, but he realized that he hadn’t talked to her in the last few days.

Actually, he had just sent the bracelet and guessed she would wear it. Part of his excitement wore down at the news, and he regretted agreeing to the ball.

Amren raised a brow at his fallen expression.

“Are you still after her, boy? Knowing she has a mate?” she inquired. “Thought you were smarter than that”

“You don’t understand. None of you do” he said, trying to sound angry. Trying to sound convinced, as convinced as he had been when he met her, but his voice sounded deflected.

“Maybe we don’t, but don’t fool yourself thinking the Cauldron makes mistakes. You’re not above its power”

Azriel scoffed at the answer he had heard before too many times, and faced away from Amren. She could try to convince him all she wanted, but his mind was up. As he walked out of the room, evading dancing couples, he forced the disappointment down his chest, where most of his feelings lay forgotten.

Of course she wouldn’t come. Of course, all those glances meant she was nervous around him, not reciprocated feelings. Of course, someone like Azriel wouldn’t end up with someone like her.

He loosened his tie briefly as he exited the ball, only to stop close to the entrance. He looked back at his family, dancing happily in the main floor. Even Amren, who didn’t dance, talked with a content half-smile to Varian, who had attended in behalf of his court.

Through all his centuries, all he had wanted was to have someone to dance with. To hold while the world fell apart, not to endure it on his own. Azriel felt a rebel knot climb to his throat, making the sight in front of him blurry.

Like a fool, he had thought Elain would be that person. After Mor, he thought he had found his person. Azriel looked once more to the ball before hastily turning around and colliding full force with a person entering the ball.

“Damnit!”

“Careful – “

Azriel didn’t get to stop the body falling to the ground, and he almost fell right above it. He gathered his footing back before he could cause more damage, and looked down to the incomer.

Something in his chest cracked when he saw the color of the dress pooling in the ground, the same one he wore on his loosened tie. The exact same color in the bracelet now forgotten in Elain’s room, that he had chosen so carefully and thoughtfully. He blinked past the initial shock and muttered an apologetic smile, offering his hand.

His eyes traveled up the wrinkled but beautiful dress to an exposed cleavage adorned with a simple blue gem. He didn’t register the similarities with his own siphons when his eyes met yours, both widened at the same time.

Centuries of waiting, of uncertainty, were suddenly nothing when the bond snapped loud in his soul. It rattled his bones and threatened to send him to the ground too.

“Y/N” he whispered, the room around him quietened. It was the first time he said your name out loud, and it felt divine on his lips. “What…?”

“Hm, Feyre’s birthday” you accepted his hand and let him pull you up, and he almost sent you crashing against his chest. “She invited me”

“That’s good”

Your eyes didn’t leave his for a while, as the bond settled for the two of you. Something had called you when you saw that dress, hanging beautifully in the window’s shop. You never wore that color, never attended to those parties. But the premise of seeing the owner of the notes you had been receiving lately, who your friends were tired of hearing about, was too appealing.

Somehow, buying that dress, coming late to the ball because of pointless delays, felt like a trick of fate.

“The bond” Azriel supplied uselessly, and you nodded for moral support way too enthusiastically.

“Yeah. It’s… here” you pressed your free hand against your chest, squeezing the one trapped in Azriel’s warm grip. “I didn’t think it would feel like this”

“It feels right”

Azriel couldn’t explain what had been missing until now. A void that had lived for so long in a place he couldn’t reach that now pulsated loudly where he needed it. He expected to be nervous, to be overjoyed, but above all of that, Azriel felt calm. At peace with himself as he stared into your eyes.

Time didn’t exist and the rest of the world was insignificant, only you mattered. And he could have spent an eternity looking at you if you hadn’t taken the first step and hugged him. If he thought the snapping bond was intense, your body against him robbed his breath.

His hand moved by itself to the back of your head, fingers tangling between your locks and pressing your face closer to him. The other arm rounded your waist, until you both belonged together like one soul.

The song ended and you looked up from his arms. With a small smile, you looked down at the loosened tie.

“Would you like to dance?”

Azriel nodded quickly and turned his back to the exit, your hand in his. People stared, his family looked at him, but all he could see was how blind he had been not to notice you were what was missing.

The Suriel 2

In the busy morning, few people stopped to see what lurked in the shadows of Velaris. They walked and rushed to their meeting points, talked with friends and families in the corners, and enjoyed the sunny day in the square. They all held interesting stories, futures that the Suriel fed on.

But he didn’t look at any of them. Only at the male standing a few feet away from him. He was sure his shadows had noticed him by now, that they knew his scent and presence, but decided not to warn his master. After all, he was no threat, just a mere spectator of fate.

The shadowsinger seemed to doubt between two books from a stand. He was oblivious to the world around him, but the Suriel knew. He noticed how he had changed in just five months, how not only his scent screamed a mating bond but also his soul. The way he stood, walked, talked.

As if the world didn’t own him anything else, as if he was finally the main character of his story.

The tall, dangerous male picked up the thicker book and paid for it with a small smile. He asked the woman in charge of the stand for a blue ribbon and tied the bag with it. Azriel turned around and distanced himself from the Suriel, not noticing his looming presence. But as he got farther and farther away from him, the Suriel was pleasantly surprised to notice shadows gathering at his feet, curious but not aggressive.

He showed them a terrifying smile, all teeth and cruelty – and still, they only brushed the torn parts of his cape in silent gratitude.

Want to read more? Check out my side blog @imaginesmaimasterlists, where I keep all the masterlists! Feedback is always appreciated

Let me know if you want me to do an Azriel taglist!

Azriel taglist:

@boygeniuses10 , @tothestarsandwhateverend

Missed target taglist (will be added if I make a second part)

@kayjayjwrites , @phoenix666stuff , @lupinswolfsbanes , @bionic-donut , @tothestarsandwhateverend , @favsrachz , @dwlyniii , @mischiefmanagers , @sassybluebird , @saltedcoffeescotch , @andrewgarfield2022 , @leeknows-wife , @marscardigan , @celear , @sstrohma , @pricklepearbloom , @blackgirlmagicforever , @emiliasdump , @erencvlt , @that-one-little-soybean , @meshellexplosionmurder , @atrxidxs , @feyretopia , @sidthedollface2 , @littlelunatica , @historygeekqueen, @ash-mcj , @haileycannotcometothephonern , @thesunloveschips , @meritxellao , @impossibelle , @kalulakunundrum , @nebarious , @cullenswife , @emryb , @sandramalikstyles-blog

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natalyarose · 2 months

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𝒥𝓊𝓅𝒾𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝒩𝒶𝓀𝓈𝒽𝒶𝓉𝓇𝒶𝓈 & 𝒢𝑒𝓃𝒾𝑒𝓈 🧞✨💐✩

I've always thought Jupiter ruled Nakshatras (Punarvasu, Vishakha, & Purvabhadprada) to be veryy magical with their themes of limitlessness, expansion, sheer spiritual abundance & power. I'm not sure if it has been talked about before, but something that always comes to mind when I envision Jupiterian Nakshatras or meet heavily Jupiter influenced people, is the concept of genies.

Jupiter's abundance and endlessly giving nature is known to be a blessing and a curse. A Jupiterian can be the sweet, generous, selfless friend who is there when you need them; providing you endless support, refuge & material generosity.

The dark side of this inherently generous 'wish-fulfilling' nature of Jupiter Nakshatras, is the possibility that they enable dark behaviours in others & themselves. Always saying yes, always being available and endlessly giving to the wrong type of cause or person, can make you complicit in the crime so to speak, even if the intention is simply to give, or give chances (Punarvasu's themes of second chances, 'return to the light'). Jupiter Nakshatras entail hugeee lessons regarding purpose (Vishakha, 'the Star of Purpose') & being intentional and wise as to how you use your power and influence (the infamous test of character in Purvabhadrapada 'the man with two faces').

These Jupiterian themes have always made me think of genies- wish fulfilling creatures who are inherently unable to say no to the wishes uttered to them. Having to just sit and watch people wish for dreadful things and just go... 'as you wish'. Obviously in real life, there really is a choice not to feed into others' and ones own toxic patterns but with Jupiterians, the urge to give, to be constantly available to others, can almost feel like it's not a choice. It's energetically intertwined in their make-up.

I would love to gather more examples, but it's 3am here and this was a bit of a spur of the moment thing I had to get out haha- I looked into a few of the most prominent 'genie' roles in movies and as I suspected, every single one features an actor/actress with strong Jupiter influence.

Jeannie from 60s sitcom 'I dream of Jeannie' - actress, Barbara Eden has Punarvasu Ascendant

Kazaam from 90s comedic film 'Kazaam' - actor/basketball player Shaquille O'Neal has Purvabhadrapada Sun

Genie from Disney's Aladdin - played in the live action movie by Will Smith, Vishakha Moon.

This genie theme really makes me think of all of the Jupiterian Nakshatras, but Vishakha especially. A friend of mine who is a Vishakha stellium always tells me about how it is said that Vishakha has the ability to generate 'instant karma'. So Vishakha natives to an extent greater than other Nakshatras will receive the raw manifested result of their thoughts/actions veryy quickly. Much like a genie granting instant wishes.

I was going to mention also that the whole genie archetype also reminds me of Rohini a bit- the wish-fulfilling aspect, the element of fulfilling desires without shame/inhibition. It's a little different in nature, but Rohini Nakshatra's got a similar theme where the native is incredibly nurturing of who or what sets their heart on fire, sometimes to a fault. Rohini is capable of immense growth but can forgo morality/practicality for the sake of immersion in the process of creation & sparking joy. Rohini's philosophy is something along the lines of 'let go of judgement because judgement inhibits creation and disrupts purity'. This is very true, but of course as humans on the divided and dense Earthly plane, we know that having a sense of judgement & boundaries is also important.

That was very wordy, but hopefully y'all see what I'm getting at lol. Although I'm more inclined to associate Rohini with wise old wizard dudes with cool beards & mad but genius scientists lol.

Back to Jupiterians-

I believe that Jupiter Nakshatra's 'remedy' is to eventually realise that they are not a slave to their giving nature, and the power lies in them to decide, & give only to a person, dream, goal or cause that truly is aligned with their own soul's path. Break free from the shackles lol- with wisdom hopefully. Without that element of wisdom, Jupiter can run wild with that discovered power.

Jupiterians struggling with discernment is why Jupiter Nakshatras oppose Venusian Nakshatras (Bharani opposes Vishakha; Purvaphalguni opposes Purvabhadrapada; Purvashadha opposes Punarvasu). Venus masters the fine art of 'necessary cruelty' sometimes ya gotta rip out the weeds, warn off the pigeons and trim the rose bush to make your garden a beautiful, pleasant, luxurious place. Jupiter can struggle with this, instinctively wanting to be a safe space for everyone and everything.

Jupiter ruled Nakshatras also partially oppose Solar Nakshatras (Krittika, Uttaraphalguni & Uttarashadha) illustrating the Jupiterian struggle with putting oneself first. Solar Nakshatras keep their energy strong and vibrantly resounding at their core; wheras Jupiter Nakshatras are kinda messy with their energy (lol, not necessarily in a bad way)- they disperse their energy everywhere, giving & giving. Both Solar & Jupiter Nakshatras deal with themes of limitless reserves energy, but in opposite, contrasting ways.

There's so much I could write about Jupiterians, I love Jupiter energy very much. I really love all of the Nakshatras lol, I mean how could you not? Every Nakshatra holds teachings that are integral to making the world a better place 💕🪷

Thankyou for reading!

#vedic astrology #vedic astro observations #nakshatras #astrology #jupiter #siderealastrology #jyotish #vedic astro notes #sidereal astrology #nakshatra #vedicastrology #jupiter nakshatras #vishakha #punarvasu #purva bhadrapada #venus #sun

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lovemybluebully · 2 months

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How To Pet a Wolverine

I finally got to see 'Deadpool and Wolverine' on Sunday and have been inspired to write a little tickle fic. :) Hope you guys enjoy!

Warning for movie spoilers and lots of foul language and general Deadpool-isms. But if you've seen the movie too then this is exactly what you should expect from the two of them. XD

M/M Tickle Fic

Word Count: 2,343

Deadpool groaned as he was slammed headfirst into the dashboard of the Odyssey again, taking a moment to upright himself as he turned back around to make eye contact with one pissed off Wolverine.

They had been nonstop fighting for over twenty minutes now and with the both of them being able to heal so quickly it could go on indefinitely. But there was no time for this! With every minute that ticked by that was one less minute that Wade had at the chance to save his universe.

Wade wasn't the type of guy to ever give up, but he knew there was absolutely zero chance that Logan was going to. The older man even seemed to be enjoying taking all of his pent-up anger out through his endless stabbing and slicing at Wade's body.

"Okay! Time out!" Wade screeched with his hands up in a 'T' shape just as Logan launched himself from the back and landed on top of him with his claws at the ready, though managing to restrain himself from thrusting them into Wade's head for the moment.

Wade spoke slowly with his hands still up as a sign of surrender.

"Now let's just take a second here......to calm down......and reassess the situation."

"You started it, bub," Logan growled in his face as the merc scoffed and tossed his head around in exasperation.

"Ohhh c'mon! Can't we just admit that we were both giant assholes?!"

Logan only retained his glower while the tips of his claws pressed into the side of Wade's head.

"Uggh fine! I'll be the grown up here, geez. Okay I'm sorry I punched you in the face first. And I'm sorry I lied about being able to get your world back. But you know there is still a chance that it is possible. Right? We don't know for sure yet that my claim was total bullshit. But I promise that from here on out there will be no more lies from me .....Okay? We good?"

The anger in the feral man's eyes began to subside along with the tension in his muscles diminishing as his breathing grew less harsh and had evened out.

"Not a lie. An educated fucking wish," Logan smirked and retracted his foot-long claws back into his hand much to Wade's relief, "Ya know that's probably the most ridiculous thing I've heard in a long time."

"Sorry, but I was in a panic trying to diffuse the situation and sometimes my mind just comes up with the stupidest shit and I can't control what comes out of my mouth."

"Sometimes?" Logan raised a skeptical brow, making Wade gasp in mock offense.

"Well that's not very nice. I'm a human being, you know, with feelings and dreams.....," he paused as he eyed the man hovering over him up and down before adding, "...and a raging boner."

The Wolverine let out an annoyed sigh and shook his head.

"For fucks sake, does everything have to be a perverted joke with you?"

"Who's joking, gorgeous? Now get off of me. My pants only have so much room for expansion," he carried on while simultaneously giving Logan a poke in the stomach, eliciting a snort and a faint twitch that Wade didn't fail to notice as the man promptly backed off of him.

"Well well, what in the name of PG-rated shit have we got here?" Wade said a little giddily, tilting his head as Logan looked at him with a suspicious frown from where he had now settled into the 3rd row back seat.

"The fuck you babblin' about?" He continued to glare while Wade began slowly crawling towards him from the front of the van.

"I mean, either this is just a wet dream I'm having, or it appears the big, bad Wolverine may be a little ticklish."

Logan's face remained stone-cold, showing no sign of fear as he just huffed and rolled his eyes.

"You're insane. Just stay the fuck away from me."

Wade only shook his head with a grin a mile wide being concealed by his mask as he closed in on his quarry.

"Mm mm, sorry Peanut. But I think we've reached that point in our relationship where it's time to explore each other's bodies. Don't worry, I'll be gentle," he was a mere arm's length away now as Logan bristled up and snarled at him; his claws shooting back out of his fists.

"Wade, I'm not joking. Do NOT fuckin' touch me, or so help me I'll splatter your brains all over the walls of this fucking cab!"

"Ooooh getting a little defensive there," the merc pauses as he turns his head to look out at the audience, now speaking in a husky whisper, "I love it when they play hard to get. Time to enact my elaborate and well-thought-out plan..."

Deadpool lurched back with an act of surprise and flailed his arms around in a frenzy before pointing out the window behind where Logan sat.

"Holy shit! Look! It's Johnny! Oh thank God! He's alive!"

Logan had absolutely no idea why he turned around to look. He knew damn well that there was going to be no one there. Maybe it was his nerves finally getting to him as he came to the realization that this crazy freak of a man was seriously about to tickle him.

Wade delayed not a second as he threw himself onto Logan and tackled him back into the cushions where he got his bigger frame trapped between the seats, ending up with Wolverine's claws plunged into both sides of his ribcage.

"Ouchie! Hahaha! Just kidding! Johnny's still dead, you dummy! Now it's tickle time!" He buried his dancing fingers into Logan's stomach as the man growled and clenched his teeth while beginning to squirm underneath him.

"Grrrrggggh! Wade! Motherfuc-Get the fuck offa me!" He yanked his claws out of Wade's sides and continued to frantically stab into his body. Really he wanted to slice the other man's arms off to get him to stop, but the way he was wedged between the seats didn't give him very much room to move his arms efficiently.

"Awww are you trying to tickle me back? How fun! But you know, you really need to work on your technique. Something more like this would work a loooot better....," Wade's hands moved up to tickle his ribs, pressing in hard to make sure to get through the X-man's thick uniform top as Logan bucked and snorted while he tried to hold himself together.

"St-Stop! Goddammit! Stop ticklin' me, ya prihihick!" A regrettable giggle escaped him, and he knew he'd lost any hope that Wade would lay off of him now.

"Ahh now we're getting somewhere. Looks like you really are ticklish, huh?" His hands continued squeezing up and down Logan's sides with rapid speed.

"I never...ssssaid I wasn't-Gahah! Stupid ahahasshole-Aahahahaha!" Logan finally couldn't keep it in any longer as gruff laughter spilled out of him and the power behind his stabbings grew weaker and weaker.

"That is so true. Thank you for pointing that out. You wanna go ahead and do that for me? Hm? You wanna tell me how ticklish you are? How the mighty Wolverine absolutely cannot take the tickles? C'moooon, tell daddy all about it," Wade grinned as he was rewarded with a hard snort from Logan as he unsuccessfully tried to regain control of his laughter.

"Fuhuhuhuck yooooou-ahahahahahaah! Okay okay I'm.....," he wheezed much to Wade's amusement, "I'm seheeheeheerious! That's enohohough!"

"Oh no, this is just getting good. Pretty sure you've had this coming for a long time now, big guy. This may sound crazy, but I'm guessing you don't get tickled very often. Which is a damn shame because look how adorably ticklish you are!" Wade cooed teasingly while kneading his fingers into Logan's belly again as more snorty laughs bubbled out of him.

"I hahahate you sohohohooo fuhuhuhucking muhuhuhuch!" By now Logan had completely abandoned his attempts to stab Wade as he realized that it was pointless and now tried using his arms to guard his sensitive torso while continuing to writhe helplessly.

"Don't say such things, my squirmy wormy. I promise I'll grow on ya. Like a hemorrhoid sure, but that's all semantics. Tell you what, if you promise to refer to me as Marvel Jesus for the rest of the movie I'll let you up right now."

"As soohoohoon ahahas ya let mehehehehe uhup-eehehehehhehehe-I'm g-gonna fuhuhucking kill yooohoou!" Logan bellowed out, but the way he was giggling and pathetically making attempts to push Wade's hands away gave the appearance that he was far from being able to kill anyone right now.

"Ooooh someone's a little sassy pants. Not exactly smart to mouth off to someone who's tickling the crap out of you, but I get the impression you're more of an act before thinking kinda guy. That's alright, we'll tickle that shitty attitude right out of you."

Logan was able to get his big forearms crossed over his stomach in defense, prompting Wade to quickly scope out another target for his tickling barrage as he lunged forward and managed to jam his hands past Logan's clenched biceps up into his armpits.

"Nohohohooooo.....," Logan's thundering guffaw broke up into a long, airy wheeze as he thrashed about in silence for a few moments with Wade delighting in his reactions.

"Awww look at you. Wolverine's not such a tough guy. You just have to know how to pet him and then he's just a cute little helpless Wolvie, isn't he? Does that tickle too much? Does it? Coochie coochie coo!" He pushed his fingers in further to wiggle deep into the soft center of the armpits while the feral mutant convulsed in spasms before finding his voice again.

"Shhh-Shhhihihihit! Hahahahahaahaa! You're dehehehehehead!"

Wade sharply tilted his head in disbelief.

"Really? Still being a grumpy cunt after all this joy and laughter I've brought to you? I was sure you'd be thanking me by now. Hmmm maybe I'm not trying hard enough. You know what? Yes, I think I have just the thing."

The merc pulled his mask up past his nose before shoving Logan's arms out of the way and yanking up his uniform top, exposing a hairy wall of tightly packed abdominal muscles that Wade was nearly distracted by before refocusing on the task at hand.

"Time for a blow job!" Wade quickly dove his face straight into Logan's belly and began blowing a very ticklish array of raspberries all over as the tough Xman exploded into hysterics.

"Bwwaaahahahaah! You fuhuhuhuhuck! Ahahahahahaha! Stahahap ihihihit! Stahahahahahahaaap! I'll kihihihihilll yoohoohooou! Baaahaahaahahahahah! Fuhuhuhuhuhuuuuck! That tihihihickles! N-Nohohohohoahahahahahhahaha! Pleeheeheeease!"

Wade almost stopped in shock as that last word played over his ears. He had neared the point of getting Wolverine to beg for mercy, which he would most certainly never do when tortured under any other circumstances. That seriously put it all into perspective for him of just how ticklish the big lug really was.

Having gotten this far he wanted to push it more. Logan's stomach was clearly a major weak spot and with the right technique he was confident that he could drive some forbidden words from his lips.

The loud farting noise his mouth made as he blew long and hard right into Logan's bellybutton echoed throughout the whole vehicle along with the screaming laugh that burst out of Logan's chest as he momentarily levitated off of the seat cushion.

Several fantasies began playing through Wade's head as he pictured Wolverine completely breaking down and begging profusely for mercy. That would give him the ultimate bragging rights for sure. Unfortunately, his devious thoughts had distracted him far too much.

Logan had desperately been looking for a way out of this situation and now was his chance. He had to act fast before he was literally tickled to death.

With a twist of his body, he managed to lift one of his legs to put a foot against Wade's stomach and violently kick him away, sending the merc flying back towards the front of the van with a surprised yelp.

Grateful for the tickling to finally end Logan immediately sat up and tried to catch his breath while Deadpool again had to turn himself over from his current upside-down position where he had landed on his head.

"God...dammit.....I told ya....to fucking....stop....," Logan panted as he glared dangerously at Wade, who simply scoffed and gave him a dismissive hand.

"Oh don't be so dramatic! It was just a little tickling. Besides a guy like you should be able to take ten times worse than that."

Logan's only reply was a vicious snarl and the snikt sound of his claws coming out as he got up and began to approach the now wide-eyed merc.

"Woah woah, take it easy! It was all in good fun! You don't have to pull that big macho act on me. You can't fool me, I know you were having fun too, right Logan? Uh.........Right?"

"............."

A few minutes later and Wade found his whole body completely wrapped up and restrained by all of the seat belts in the van with them even covering his entire face and preventing him from uttering more than muffled words.

"Hmph. Finally figured out a way to shut you up," Logan smirked as Deadpool squirmed in his prison of seatbelt webbing; able to hear but unable to see and speak clearly.

"It's true what they say, silence is golden. And I definitely prefer you as bein' the merc without the mouth. Whaddya think about that?" He reached over and tickled his fingers over an exposed area on Wade's side, producing muffled chuckles as his thrashing increased.

"Well I certainly ain't letting you get one up on me. Besides, you like this ticklin' stuff, don't ya? Don't worry, it's all in good fun. Unlike you though, I promise not to be gentle."

One hand dug hard into vulnerable ribs and the other into his thigh as Wade made a futile attempt to scream for mercy.

#ticklish!logan #ticklish!wolverine #lee!logan #lee!wolverine #ler!wade #ler!deadpool #ticklefic #deadpool tickle #wolverine tickle

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blindmagdalena · 19 days

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Center Stage in a Gilded Cage (chapter three)

18+ 3.8k. homelander x f!reader. pre-s1. stalking, kidnapping, imprisonment, forced relationship, slow burn, eventual smut. chapter 3/8. fic directory. AO3.

Now that he's got you all to himself, it's clear that Homelander has no intention of letting you go. For the sake of your own survival, you have no choice but to adopt his madness and play along with his domestic fantasy.

Homelander is insane.

You don’t know how to reconcile the hero of Vought’s marketing with this man, whose very presence unnerves you. There’s something uncanny about the way he moves, speaks, even the way he smiles at you. It all feels simultaneously practiced, and yet like he’s never actually spoken one on one to another human being.

The sentiment spins in your mind like a record, the melody scratchy and discordant. It’s as though you’ve fallen into some kind of bizzaro dimension where up is down, the sky is green, and Vought’s golden hero is a delusional kidnapping maniac who premeditated your abduction to the point of filling his home with a perfectly curated wardrobe for you. Even the products in the bathroom mirror your own.

You are home.

The conviction with which he said it gives you goosebumps. In the moment you’d been numb, trapped somewhere between reality and dream. That feeling–some mixture of shock and whatever he drugged you with–lingers with you even now, like you’ll wake up from this nightmarish fantasy at any moment.

You smooth your hands down your body, now clad in unfamiliar silk that feels cool and expensive against your skin. The sleep wear fits you like a glove. It’s your favorite color. It could have been pulled straight from your own closet if not for the lack of wear and the undoubtedly exorbitant price tag. All for wearing to bed.

Bed.

Nerves flutter in your gut like caged birds. You give yourself one last lingering look in the mirror. Washed and lotioned with the menagerie of products left for you, you’re unable to stall in the bathroom any longer. You’re as “comfortable” as you’re going to get, and Homelander’s waiting for you.

The thought makes you shiver. You can still feel his hands on your wrists like phantom shackles. From the moment he snapped and grabbed you, shocking you with immeasurable inhuman strength, you knew you were going to have to proceed with extreme caution. There’s something deeply wrong with him, and you’re terrified of what else he’s capable of.

What if you’re not the first person he’s done this to?

Worse than that thought, what if you’re not the last?

It’s a short walk back to the bedroom, the way lit by the dim spotlights that hang over the portraits that litter the walls. There’s an eeriness to the penthouse that makes you feel as though you’re walking through an empty museum after hours. The glossy wood flooring is as cold as tile beneath your bare feet, every part of this place hard and manufactured. It feels more like an enclosure than a home.

Even more bizarre than the decor is the layout itself. You haven’t seen the whole place yet–he had insisted a tour was for daylight hours–but rounding the corner from the living room takes you to an open alcove that serves as his bedroom. You hesitate in the open hall, struck by the sight of yourself reflected a dozen times over in the mirrors that make up his bedroom walls and ceiling, and Homelander himself already tucked into bed, his torso bare.

Your stomach flips. He smiles at you, beckoning you with a nod towards the empty side of the bed. Anxiety crawls up your spine like an insect with every step you take towards the bed, worsened by the open anticipation he watches you with. It goes against your every instinct to move closer to him.

Just as you reach the bed, he flips the blanket down for you. You tense, gaze dipping, but you’re relieved to find that he is not entirely nude. He’s wearing sleep pants with a thin band that nicely hugs the sharp jut of his hip, following the slight curve of his stomach. He’s leaner than the chiseled exaggeration of his suit implies, but his strength is no illusion. His hand felt like a steel vice around your wrist, his pull like being guided by a freight train.

Homelander clears his throat and your eyes snap back up to his. You realize all at once you’ve been standing there in silence staring for far too long at his half-exposed body. Embarrassment hits in a hot rush and you mumble some kind of half formed apology, busying yourself with slipping into the bed, lingering at the edge.

“Don’t apologize,” he says, watching you settle on your back and tug the blanket over yourself. “Like what you see?” he asks, smiling crookedly. Though he claims he has no intention of eating you, you wouldn’t know it by the look in his eyes. He has all the intensity of a bird of prey watching a rabbit skitter through an open field.

Not knowing how to respond, you stare wordlessly at him. You notice the asymmetry of his mouth for the first time, how it curves on one side. Christ, why can’t you stop staring at him like this? Every time you try to formulate a response–something, anything–the words get jumbled up in your throat, threatening to choke you. At a loss, you roll onto your side, putting your back to him and screwing your eyes shut. The bed dips suddenly and an arm slipping around your waist startles you into a jerk, your body going tense.

“Jeeze, so jumpy,” he laughs, breath hot on the nape of your neck. He pulls your body flush against his, your soft curves fitting seamlessly against his wrought iron edges. His strength is impossible to ignore, inhuman and titanous. You can feel it in every part of him, but nowhere more keenly than in the flex of his arm as it encircles you, pinning you against him.

He sighs into the crook of your neck, sending shivers down your spine. “I’ve really been looking forward to this,” he murmurs, his words nearly beneath the thunderous racket of your own heart in your ears. Your body is awash in heat, and not just from the flush rolling through you. He’s as hot as a furnace at your back, as if his skin conducts heat just as well as the steel he feels made from.

If there was any doubt before that you had no choice but to yield to him, it’s evaporated now. He could crush you without so much as a second thought if he decides you don’t fit whatever elaborate fantasy he’s created in his mind. He could make you disappear.

“Hey,” he says softly, nudging the shell of your ear with his nose. “I’m gonna take good care of you, okay?”

The pressure of a sob swells up in your throat, the reality of your situation folding in on you with the weight of the world, but you choke it back. Hesitantly, you place your hand over his forearm and squeeze, hoping it will be enough of an answer to appease him.

You feel his smile in the way he caresses the sensitive flesh of your neck with his mouth. In turn, he squeezes you against his chest like a child would his new favorite toy, covetous and possessive. It makes you wonder what sort of boy he’d been: was he the sort to be precious with his toys, or was he the sort who wore them threadbare before looking for the next new and shiny thing?

“‘Atta girl.”

Although sleep doesn’t come easily, it does at least come eventually. The room is dark, but not pitch black, and the ambient sounds of high altitude winds spilling in from his open windows are surprisingly soothing, better than the scratchy ocean recordings you usually drift to.

The exhaustion you experience in the aftermath of your abduction overtakes you, pitching you into a deep slumber. You spend the night dreaming a tumultuous mix of reality and nightmare, some aspects exaggerated while others play out perfectly as they were. The truth of your situation is nightmarish enough without any theatrics from your imagination.

Waking up in Homelander’s bed for the second time is no less disorienting than it was the first time. Last night returns to you in bits and pieces, but nothing grounds you in reality as swiftly as the heavy arm looped around your waist, and the steady warm breaths wafting over the back of your neck, giving you goosebumps. His other arm is stretched out under your pillow, his hand resting palm up by the edge of it.

Is he asleep…?

“G’morning,” Homelander purrs, giving a firm squeeze around your middle. Not asleep, which leaves you wondering how long he’s been awake, assuming the man actually does sleep. There’s been no lack of speculation towards how human supes really are or aren’t, whether they need to eat or rest the way regular humans do. Especially those as powerful as Homelander.

The sleepy slur and fray of his voice gives you hope that he does, though. On top of everything else, it would be too unsettling a horror to learn that he doesn’t.

“Morning,” you give back after a beat, hating how meek your voice is. The tension in your body makes everything sound tight and forced. You see his fingers flex just before he curls his arm inward, hand clutching your shoulder to embrace you.

“I don’t know about you,” he says in your ear, lips brushing the shell of it as he speaks. “But that was the best damn night of sleep I’ve ever had.”

That solves that, you suppose.

The silence that follows makes you realize he was prompting you.

“Same.” The lie hitches in your throat like a hiccup.

Another pause, and then Homelander is shifting, uncoiling his arms from around you and lifting up on his side. With a hand on your shoulder he turns you on to your back, bringing you to face him. You meet his gaze, but something about the look in his eyes turns your gut cold. There’s no softness in the lines of his face, not even thinning tethers of patience. There’s simply… nothing.

“Don’t ever lie to me,” he says, his voice set low and strangely hollow. “You’re free to do whatever you want. Except for that. Understand?”

Your throat clicks on a dry swallow. The weight of his stare makes it hard to breathe. You nod.

“Tell me you understand,” he says slowly, each perfectly annunciated word dripping with malice. There’s no pleading in his voice the way there had been last night. He’s composed entirely of cold and hard lines that make you feel caged, the bars shrinking around you.

“I understand,” you choke out.

Just like that, the lines at the corners of his eyes soften, crinkling with his smile. He leans in to press a chaste kiss to your forehead. The abruptness of the shift is enough to give you whiplash, leaving you dazed. For just a moment, he was another person entirely.

“That’s my girl,” he says, seeming to savor every word on his tongue. Dumbstruck, you watch him climb out of bed, swinging his arms in a slow stretch.

“Uhm,” you start, clearing your voice of the faint tremor in it. “I should, uh… Call someone. Work. They’re going to be worried if–”

“Already taken care of,” he cuts in, lifting his suit from the suit rack next to the bed. Your eyes dart to the crumpled one he shed the night before, still in a pile. How many of those does he have? “Everyone you know is under the impression that you had a mild stress-induced nervous breakdown, and are currently on an impromptu vacation in Europe, totally off the grid,” he says with a smile, sliding his hand smoothly through the air.

You pale. Whenever work came to be too much, you’ve joked about disappearing like that, but would anyone actually believe you have? You suddenly regret the plethora of hyperbolic existential posts you’ve made.

“Oh,” is all you manage to say, feeling sick.

Homelander, on the other hand, looks as bright as the morning sun. “So! Who’s ready for breakfast?”

Regardless of whether or not cooking is enjoyable, it’s always a reliable routine. Breakfast perhaps most of all. Eggs, toast, bacon and whatever fruit is in season. You find all these things and more in dizzying variety and proportion in Homelander’s lavish kitchen.

The eggs are large and brown, the bacon wrapped in butcher's paper rather than plastic, and cut in thick strips. The artisanal loaf of bread has a perfectly crisp golden crust, soft on the inside as you slice it. It’s everything you know, but elevated.

The opulence feels weighted. It makes you wonder how you could ever be expected to pay for any of this. How you could be worth any of this. Every ounce of silky butter you swipe over the piece of artisan toast in your hand feels like another smattering of grave soil peppering you from above, burying you deeper than you already are.

You don’t owe him for any of this. You didn’t ask for it. Regardless, you lick an excess smear of jam from your thumb–the color of it as red and vibrant as fresh blood–and all at once you are Persephone taking the pomegranate seeds between her lips. There is a terrible feeling of complicitness in this, despite that you’re only trying to survive.

Homelander lurks behind you while you cook, observing from a slight distance with an idyllic smile, his hands clasped behind his back. While you’re still wearing your pajamas, he’s wearing his hero suit again, the bulk of it returning to him his larger than life silhouette.

The silence he observes you in is unnerving, making everything else too loud in comparison. It would be nice if he’d at least sit. Instead, you’re keenly aware of the oppressive weight of his expectant gaze the entire time you cook.

“Looks delicious,” he says, his voice suddenly so close that you startle, the butterknife slipping from your hand and clattering on the marble countertop. His gloved hands cup your elbows and squeeze, soothing and overly familiar. “Oops-a-daisy,” he laughs, as if you’re just clumsy. His hands stroke slowly up and down your arms.

You snatch the knife up from the countertop and dutifully wipe away the jam splatter with a dishtowel. “I hope you like it,” you say distractedly, heart racing.

“How could I not?” he asks in that same low, pleased tone. He gives your arms an excited little shimmy before releasing them, reaching around either side of you to grab each plate. You feel his chest against your back, where he lingers just a second too long. “You made it just for me, after all.”

He moves away from you, taking the plates with him to the small round table near the floor to ceiling windows. The view from his penthouse is stunning–overlooking the entire city, all the way out to the waterfront–but it’s also dizzying. It unsettles your stomach to sit so close to the window, the size of them making it feel as though there’s nothing between you and a hundred story fall.

“You’re not scared of heights, are you?” He asks, settling down across from you.

You look from the window to him. He wastes no time splaying a cloth napkin in his lap and picking up his utensils, though he never takes his eyes off of you. You’re not sure he ever does. “Uh…Not particularly. I just don’t think I’ve ever been up so high,” you say, draping your own napkin similarly in your lap. Never has breakfast felt like such a formal affair.

“You’ll get used to it,” he says confidently, jabbing his knife into the yolk of his egg to spread over his buttered toast. “I’ll take you flying again. You’ll be conscious this time around,” he chuckles, flipping a piece of bacon on top as well.

Your gut tightens, toast paused halfway to your parted lips. You gawk at him. It’s difficult to comprehend how someone can be so beyond reproach, so intensely cavalier about something like drugging you into unconsciousness and kidnapping you.

I saved you. That his voice already lives in your mind–correcting you–is sickening in and of itself. Your already tenuous appetite vanishes, but you take a bite of the toast out of spite. The jam’s farm fresh sweetness is tart, though it’s offset perfectly by the savory sea salt richness of the butter.

It’s as exquisite as it is repulsive.

A crisp snap brings your attention abruptly back to Homelander, whose hand is still poised in the air, his thumb and middle finger pressed together. His hand falls away once he has your attention, his smile returning. “That good, huh? Looked like you went a million miles away.”

If only, you seethe, taking another bite of the toast. You use the moment to chew, swallowing the anger over being snapped at alongside your mouthful of food.

“It’s delicious,” you say, curating your words carefully. Don’t ever lie to me, his words echo again, helping you to shape a mental survival guide. Feeling his eyes on you, you meet them. His smile widens a touch, though you don’t think it quite reaches his eyes. He’s appraising you like one might an exhibit at a museum.

Glancing down at his plate, you notice he hasn’t really eaten his breakfast so much as he’s toyed with it. It’s all just cut apart, yellow egg yolk oozing slowly across the pristine white plate. “Is there something wrong with yours?” you ask with a lurch of anxiety. He’s drugged you once already.

“Not at all,” he beams with clean white teeth, hands resting in loose fists on either side of his plate. “It’s perfect. You’re perfect.”

The strange earnestness of the compliment stuns you. “Thank you,” you say uneasily, still not convinced there wasn’t something in the jam, or maybe the butter.

His smile broadens and this time it reaches all the way up, crinkling his eyes at their outer corners. There’s a sort of pride in his expression that makes you feel like a dog that’s finally learned the trick he’s been trying to teach you.

“Whelp,” he sighs, clapping his hands together as he stands. “As much as I hate to go, duty calls,” he says, sliding his chair back beneath the table. Rounding it, he holds his hand out to you. “Walk me out?” he asks, his smile gleaming with predator charm. You only hesitate briefly before slipping your hand into his, reminding yourself to choose your battles wisely.

He lifts you to your feet with such ease it makes your stomach flip, breath hitching in your throat. He doesn’t let go of your hand, choosing to keep it snug within his grasp as he walks you through the decorated halls of his penthouse. There’s scarcely a space untouched by decor, making even these spacious corridors feel claustrophobic, dozens of carved and painted eyes leering at you as you pass.

The tour of the penthouse had been brief, awkward. He hadn’t especially known what to say about each room, giving you more facts about the artwork than anything. The lack of personal effects only make the place feel even more like a museum than it had before.

The only pictures of him were Vought promotional material. Not a single photo of him outside of his suit. No trace of family or childhood. Just The Homelander.

He holds your hand all the way up to a set of double doors made from dark wood, where he stops and turns to face you. “Thanks for breakfast,” he says with a picture perfect pearly white smile. Not a speck of food to be found. Uncomfortable with how fixated you’ve become on the condition of his teeth, you force your attention back on his eyes and nod.

“You’re welcome.”

He leans closer, and you have to fight the urge to lean back.

“Will you kiss me goodbye?”

You blink, the question striking you in the same way his compliment had, but for a different reason. In the wake of asking, his smile has lost that razor sharp edge it usually carries. Like his eyes, it’s softer now. More boyish. There’s a level of nervous apprehension in it that’s a stark contrast from his usual smugness. Yet again it hardly feels like you’re even looking at the same person.

Swallowing dryly, you bring your hand to the underside of his strong jaw. His skin is warm under your fingers, and he leans readily into your touch. You can feel the tension in the muscle beneath his cleanly shaven face as you turn it away, simultaneously moving in to press your lips to his cheek.

When you pull away, he’s staring sidelong at you, his face still turned away, his thin lips parted. For a beat, you think he’s going to be upset, but you realize quickly that the heat you see rushing to his cheeks isn’t anger. It’s a blush. Of all the ways you expected him to react, bashful was not among them.

“Okie-dokie,” he says, suddenly sheepish, and the tension in your shoulders drains as he relinquishes your other hand, busying himself with slipping off one of his gloves. “Should be home around 4:00, but I might be able to squeeze out closer to 3:00,” he says, tossing you a conspiratory little wink. As if you should be as excited as he is at the thought.

You watch him reach for a black plate next to the door handle, which he slides up to reveal a sleek number pad with a glowing blue circle, which he presses his thumb to. The circle turns green, and you hear a mechanism unlatch. Your stomach drops. All at once you understand why he brought you all the way to the door. He wanted you to see this.

“Pretty nifty, huh?” he asks, sliding his glove back on. “State of the art,” he says with a grin, pulling the door open. Over his shoulder, you see nothing but a long, long hall and a distant elevator at the end of it. You consider screaming down it to see if anyone might hear you, but the noise gets stuck in your throat. Even if they heard you, no one would reach you in time.

Homelander steps through the threshold, lingering in the doorway, leaning partially inside. “Don’t you worry,” he says, taking in the stricken expression you wear. He looks pleased with himself. “You’ll be perfectly safe. No way anyone’s getting in or out–aside from me, that is.”

He offers a few parting words, but they distort into unintelligible static. The door closes. That green circle turns blue, and the locking mechanism echoes in your ears like the slam of a prison gate. Turning around, you stare down the lengthy corridor you came from, your ears buzzing with the eerie quietness of the penthouse.

I need to get the fuck out of here.

#this chapter ran a bit long but yay! reader pov!#homelander x reader #homelander x you #homelander fanfiction #x reader #homelander #my writing #yandere x reader #yandere #yandere boyfriend

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justwonder113 · 10 months

Text

Showering Felix with affection

Bang Chan; Lee Know; Changbin; Hyunjin; Han; Seungmin; IN;

Summary: Even though you feel more than secure in your relationship with Felix you still can't help but feel possessive sometimes...

Warnings: Slightly suggestive; Reader is whipped as always; Reader is slightly jealous/possesive; Reader is feeling like a mess? Half naked Felix(that needs a whole warning as itself); Felix being himself making reader lose their mind(from love? Idk it's like 3 am brain is not braining)

word count- 1.7k

A/N- I'm alive!!! This one took me way more time than I intendet to. But I'm glad how it turned out to be. I really worked my butt over it so I really hope you'll like it. Reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated I'm really curious to know what you think. Thank you so much for all the support and kind comments, they mean the world to me and give me the biggest drive 🩷 I'll try to write and upload next part as soon as I can

This was too much! Like way much more than you could handle! You didn't know if you felt was extreme pride for both your boyfriend's achievements and overall amazingness and the fact that he was, in fact, yours, or the bitter feeling of jealousy, because your boyfriend basically stripped in front of thousands, no, millions of stays. There was no way in hell this clip wouldn't blow up the whole internet in minutes!

Being in a relationship with an idol sure came with a lot of challenges. You felt secure in your relationship, Felix, despite having millions of fans thirsting over him, never gave you any reason to doubt hiis love and sincerity. Sometimes the fact that Feliz had so many admirers made you feeel so much pride and boosted your confidence so much, the Lee Yongbok Felix, the man who could have literally anyone in the world, the man who had so many admirers chose you and stayed with you. The feeling was surely something else. You wondered what changed today. Was it because so many people saw him shirtless? The jealousy was gnawing you from the inside. Maybe it wasn't jealosy and rather than that you were feeling possesive. You didn't want to word this wrong, but you guessed that you considered Felix as yours, just as he percieved you as his, you were sure of it, you weren't really posessive and you would rather die than make Felix uncomfortable with an ugly feeling like that, it's just seeing that so many people saw him in different light you only had the pleasure of seeing really rubbed you the wrong way.

You kinda felt bad for feeling like this. Felix was the boyfriend one could only dream of. He only did his job as an idol and entertainer so why were you sulking like this? You knew that dating an idol was like. But for God's sake you were only human! Hearing other's thirsty comments nade yiur blood boul. Others were trying to watch the show! You also almost had a cardiac areest watching your boyfriend, but you still contained yourself (your panties were most likely(certainty) ruined)! You didn't make thirsty comments and disturbed others. Oh how you wished you could just walk up on the stage and really show them who Felix really belonged with. Oh to see the jealous looks on their faces, but no, you couldn't do it to Felix. He told you that he was ready to tell the world about your relationship countless times but you knew it could affect him as an idol a lot so you told him that you knew he loved you and appreciated the gesture but he didn't meed to do that. Also you were talking out of your butt as if you had any chance to go up on the stage with heavy security like this... You could still out your relationship! You just couldn't do it to Felix. He didn't deserve to be in scandal because your pride was hurt.

Even after hours went by the bitter feeling didn't go away, and you were afraid Felix was starting to notice your absentmindness. As you thought the internet was blown over it. Everyone kept gushing about Felix, and you felt both immence pride and bitterness.

Huffing out annoyed you got up from the bed to drink water. You were in your hotel room with Felix. Others went in their own rooms to sleep. You were waiting for Felix to finish his shower. It was quite late, but you felt nowhere near sleepy.

You took a sip from your water and almost choked to death when you saw Felix emerge from the bathroom, towel hanging low on his lips. His waist and uppeenbody glistening from the water, hair srill damp and dripping. What was in the air tonight? This boy was going to be the death of you. He had to be crafted from the God's themselves because what the heck?! Most men you knew had either decent personality or decent looks and in most cases neither, and then you had this specimen. What the hell, how? He was also next to you softly patting your back the second you started choking on water. Like man pick a struggle it's unfair to be perfect in every way.

"Are you okay angel?" Felix asked with his deadly beautiful voice after you calmed down. You had to be thankful if you survived this day, or this boy generally.

"Yeah, I'm fine." It took you a few seconds but you managed to answer. God your heart was jumping out of your ribcage. Felix looked at you for a second then shook his head.

His warm hand engulfed yours, "You've barely spoken the whole night, talk to me love, did something happen?" His thumb never stopped rubbing small circles on your hand. He always had such a calming effect on you and, usually, the second he touched you became so putty and melted like a puddle, but today it didn't seem to work. You were too on edge.

"Did I upset you with something?" Felix asked looking unsure yet remorseful, you felt guilty, too caught up with yourself you tuned out Felix, making him believe he was in the wrong. You straightened up and stood in front of him, his gaze carefully examining your every move. Normally, whenever he looked at you like that it made you shy away, but now you were feeling rather bold.

Not breaking the eye contact you got closer and closer slightly pushing him back so that in the couple of steps the back of his legs met the bed and it only took you a slight nudge to push him on the bed.

Not wasting a moment you straddled his lap. He didn't hesitate and put his hands on your waist. His thumbs slowly rubbing circles to soothe you into talking. He looked at you with wide eyes, he clearly didn't expect you to do something bold like this, but he didn't seem to mind it, quite the opposite, actually. You knew him too well to miss the mischevious glint in his eyes.

"Can I kiss you?" Felix quickly nodded his head. He leaned in pushing on his elbows and met you halfway to a kiss. His lips were soft as ever, you immediately whimpered at the touch, already feeling weak in the knees. Sometimes you felt as if Felix was some type of drug. There was no way the attachment and constant longing you felt towards him was normal. Especially his kisses. If you could, you would spend eternity carresing his soft lips with yours. His soft lips gliding over yours had you feeling euphoric. Mere brush of his lips against yours made you feel alive. You wondered if he knew how much you loved him.

Felix returned the kiss with just as much love and passion you put into it if not more. Once soft and slow kiss was now hard and passionate and was igniting you from inside. You didn't even want to lean back for air despite your lungs already starting to burn. He must have realized you actually needed air to breathe so he leaned back, but he still held you close. His lips now softly carresing your neck while you regained your composure. You were sure your neck would be a sight to behold in the morning. But to put it quite frankly, you didn't give a damn.

Your eyes met, he tried to say something but you didn't let him. God, you felt awful. But you didn't know what to do, what to say. You were in an emotional turmoil. You were a mess. All you knew was that you had to show him how much you loved him, how much he meant for you.

Moving from his lips you started to litter his bautiful face. His pretty nose, his pretty eyes, his forehead. You made sure to kiss his cheeks as many times as much freckles he had. The way Felix squirmed beneath you, the way he was all flushed up and embarrassed, how he couldn't hold the eye contact and the way his red and swollen pouty lips kept mumbling that you should kiss his lips instead was driving you crazy.

After placing one last kiss right beneath his jaw, you leaned back and took the sight in. Your heart was about to burst out of your chest. How did he look ehetheral every given second?

"I love you so much, you know that, right?" You slowly muttered after a few long seconds of debating how could you force yourself to talk, or just simply what were you going to say. Felix looked at you for a second before suddenly moving you two, so thay now you were beneath him, and he was on top. The sight of him hovering above you didn't really help your situation, like at all! Because now the light was hitting him from the back just right, and the shadows made his features look more defined and sculptured, and you were not feeling good at all.

"What are you doing?" You couldn't help but ask, you couldn't tell what his blank face meant. Felix smiled and your heart melted yet again. "Showing you just how much I love you. Also, I have to pay back for all the kisses you gave me, so brace yourself love." He winked at you and you couldn't help but giggle. What a dork. You were about to make a clever remark, but he shut you up by connecting your lips once again. His one hand sliging through your hair while the other arm wrapped around your waist drawing you closer. You've never felt more safe and loved. And you felt silly for ever worrying. This man loved you just as much as you loved him.

You smiled into the kiss and just let yourself go.

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mika-no-sekai-blog · 9 months

Text

Word count: 2600+

Warnings: mentions of war, anxiety, vomiting, blood and dead animal

In books there's no mention of Tamlin being able to winnow, but for the sake of story, let's pretend he can

Part III | Part V

You woke up with a jolt, unable to take a breath. Something was pushing you from behind into sturdy, but warm object, crushing you. You squirmed and scratched until the thing under you stiffed and moved. It was alive. The grasp on back of your head and waist loosened a bit and you sat up gasping for air. As soon as you calmed down, you looked back to see what held you. Your eyes widened as you recognized the person next to you.

Tamlin was still asleep, lying on top of the blanket on your bed. He looked tired and torn, his cloths were dirty with bloody stains, his golden hair all dishevelled. He didn't have a single scratch on his skin, though he seemed to be trapped in another nightmare. He was moaning, gritting his teeth and frowning. His head was tossing from side to side, fingers clenched into fists.

"Please.. no.. don't le-.." he murmured under the breath.

"Tamlin," you shook his shoulder. "It's just a bad dream. You are.. safe."

High Lord woke up panting. Swallowing hard he looked around, seemingly trying to remember where he was. His green eyes stopped on you. Confusion and pain on his face was replaced by relief.

"You are awake," he breathed out.

"So you are. How did this happen?" you gestured between him and your bed.

"Ah, this.. Don't worry. Nothing happened. You passed out and as it looks I fell asleep while taking care of you. When was the last time you ate?" smirking he slowly sat up, his face just an inch from yours. You tried to put some distance between you and him, but everything went dark for a second. His big hands caught you, grounding you. "Slowly."

"I'm fine now. Thank you."

Tamlin shook his head. "When was the last time you ate?" he repeated his question.

"I don't know," you admitted, shrugging. "Is the war over? Who won?"

"We did, but I already told you yesterday. Don't you remember?" he tilted head in rather an animal way.

You blinked confused. "Really? I-I don't remember any of that.."

"Hmm," he watched you with concern. "It's interesting. When I came in I thought cottage is empty. I couldn't sense you at all. Then you suddenly appeared in the shadows and when I told you we won, you passed out. Don't you really remember it?"

You frowned and shook you head.

"Well, never mind," Tamlin sighed. "Let's find you some food."

"I'm afraid I don't have any at the moment. I.. couldn't go out.. I-I was worried.." you blushed turning your gaze away from him.

A wicked grin appeared on Tamlin's face. "I thought you are angry at me and meanwhile," one brow raised up, "you worried for my wellbeing. I'm flattered."

You blushed even harder. Since when did you have such kind of feelings? You didn't recognize yourself. "I could feel it.. The magic of this world was..wild..roaring."

"Yeah, it was quite a tough fight," Tamlin was once again serious. "War is a horrible thing. Many lives were lost. Too many. Things you see on a battlefield.. It's hard to erase it from one's mind.."

You could feel the enormous weight burdening his shoulders. Suddenly you felt really sorry for him. He was just a young male and yet.. he had a great responsibility. Many lives depended on him. He had to rule entire Court and fae who lived there. He was protecting this land for so many years and then human woman came and things started to fall apart.

"I'm going to get us something to eat," Tamlin stood up, heading to door. "You stay here and try to rest. I'll return soon."

He stopped, hand on a handle. "Uhm.. can you handle a meat? I know you said you don't remember if you've ever eaten it, but.. unlike you I'm afraid I'm not able to collect mushrooms and herbs. I'd most likely poison us."

You giggled. "I'll give it a try," you agreed grateful for anything he could bring. Tamlin's cheeks turned pink. Nodding he left.

Barely twenty minutes passed when you heard Tamlin returning back. His steps were heavier than before. Curious you carefully went downstairs using walls for support. Seeing an animal slung over his shoulder, you yelped.

"You shouldn't stand up," Tamlin said calmly as if he wasn't carrying big deer.

"Are you going to," you swallowed, "cut it open here?" If you had anything in your stomach, you would throw it out right there on the spot. You felt faint and needed to sit down. When Tamlin took a note of your state, he let the deer fall to the ground and rushed to you.

"Easy, vicious witch," he smirked helping you sit to your armchair. The smell of the dead animal stuck on his clothes and you gagged.

"I'm sorry," breathing deeply you tried to work off the nausea.

"No, I am sorry. It should have occurred to me you might feel sick when you see this," he pulled away, fanning you with hand. "It was really bad idea." Thinking about something he narrowed the shining green eyes on you. "I could.." he said hesitantly, "clean it and roast it at my house." You nodded weakly with closed eyes. "But I don't want to leave you alone for so long in this state."

"Don't worry. I'll be fine. Just leave me here," you groaned, the desire to be as far from the dead animal's body and its smell as possible growing with every second.

He studied your face for a while. "Come with me," he said firmly. You wanted to object, but he continued before you could even open mouth. "You can rest in other room or take a walk around if you will feel up to it. I would be less worried. And meal won't unnecessarily cool down."

His gaze was too piercing and you had to look away. The very same feeling you had when you tried to go to check on him in his manor returned. Leaving this forest even for hour or two made you nervous. Whole your body was against it. You started sweating.

"I'll winnow us. No need to be afraid," Tamlin assured you. "Come." He pulled your hand lightly.

"I.."

"If you are afraid I will do something to you, no need to. If I would really want to, I already had a plenty opportunities, don't you think," he grinned and winked. Under all the playfulness there were traces of something dark, cold and painful. He was trying to suppress it, but you noticed it nonetheless.

Maybe it was for that pain that you agreed at last. Uneasiness was crushing you from inside and you had to repeat to yourself that it would be just for few hours and you would return back home.

Tamlin winnowed you as he said. When you dared to open your eyes a little, you found yourself in a room with big windows. It was impressive just as expected from High Lord's manor, but signs of neglect were visible all around. Every surface was covered in dirt and dust, some pieces of furniture were broken. Tamlin blushed looking around.

"I'm sorry for this," he gestured around. "This used to be the nicest room, but certain things happened and.. all servants left.. The state of my house is.. quite horrible at the moment."

Your eyes wandered around the room while he spoke, taking in beautiful details. You turned to him only when Tamlin stopped talking, waiting for your reaction.

"It is still very nice house. And bright," you smiled nervously. "It's so huge."

"For one person, it's too much," sadness filled his eyes. "If you want, you can look around or find some place to rest. Just.. stay nearby, please.. You know.. just in case you pass out again.." he added nervously as if his request needed an extra explanation. You heard that High Lord basically imprisoned his fiancée in the manor after their return from under the mountain and she broke down. That's when somebody from Night Court came to rescue her and she left him for the first time.

"I'm going to take care of the..meal," his voice snapped you out from your thoughts.

"Okay, I won't go far then," you promised and sent him reassuring smile. You watched your High Lord until he disappeared behind the doors on the opposite side, leaving it wide open. Was he really such bad person? He was gloomy, sad and broken, but down under it all, he seemed to be caring and gentle in his own way. You had mixed feelings.

You were weak and felt sick, so you decided to sit on chair near the window overlooking the garden. At least the anxiety of leaving the forest wasn't so bad right now. Resting you head against the frame of the window, you let your thoughts wander.

The peaceful moment didn't last long. Air changed and something felt off. Wondering what's going on you trailed in the direction Tamlin had disappeared in. It didn't take you long to find kitchen, the faint smell of dead animal guiding you. You were about opening the door when you sensed some stranger on the other side. His magic filled air with smell of dark chilly night, so strong it made a shiver ran down your spine. Whoever it was, he was powerful, more powerful than your High Lord. No matter how scary it was, it felt familiar in a certain way. You halted, trying to remember where did you met with such powers, but there was nothing.

You shook your head concentrating on a small gap in the ajar door. Peeking through it you could see Tamlin standing behind the table across the room, his hands dirty from the animal's blood. He was cutting - no, tearing it to pieces, obliviously ignoring the stranger standing on the other side whose back was turned to you.

"I just came to check on you," the stranger purred, even his voice was like silky night.

"Why would you bother?" Tamlin grunted, his eyes trained on the meat he was peeling off the skin.

"You saved my life which I'm really grateful for. Feyre said you even wished her a happiness. We used to be friends, Tam."

"Right, we used to. The past tense," Tamlin snarled.

Stranger stayed silent for a while, ignoring his words and looking around. "This house turned into a great mess. You should do something about that."

"Your mate made sure nobody stayed here," your High Lord snapped. Now it gave sense. The other male was Night Court's High Lord, the one Tamlin's fiancée ran to.

You could see Tamlin's discomfort, his shoulders tensed, jaw tightening. It worried you. You felt hate towards the male who came to tease him, to kick him while he was at the bottom. You were debating if you should go in and support him or stay hidden when Night Court's Lord spoke again.

"Are you really alone?"

Tamlin's gaze shot to the door you were hidden behind, flash of panic in his eyes. It took just mere second, but you noticed. He was afraid the other male could find you here. It was like a signal to stay where you were. "Yes," he rasped.

"Hmm," other male hummed amused. "Maybe I should send somebody to make you a company."

"Shove it up your ass, Rhysand! I don't want your sleuthhound to sniff around," Tamlin barked, his claws punched out.

So called Rhysand raised his hands in surrender. "It was just a friendly offer. You don't have enough men to guard the borderline. I can help you out with it."

"I. Don't. Need. You." Tamlin growled.

"Okay, I've got it. But if you change your mind or need help, let me know," Rhysand laughed and winnowed.

Tamlin stood there, his chest rising and falling as he heaved, sharp claws ready to tear the flesh into shreds. He was angry once again, pain all over his face. You hesitantly stepped out of your hideaway. His gaze shot to you, studying you from head to toe.

"How long were you eavesdropping on us?" His words were sharp like daggers.

"Long," you admitted calmly although your heart rate increased.

"So now you know.." he whispered, voice full of pain and looked down on his bloodied hands.

"That you are High Lord? I know it since I treated your wound."

His eyes shot up to you with surprise, searching your face for disgust, hate or any other emotion subjects of this court usually felt for him. He was taken aback when he found none of that.

"Will you leave like others did?" he asked in a small voice. "I.. won't stop you.."

"No," you answered simply. "I already told you I won't leave my home."

His lips pulled into a thin line. "Your cottage.. right.." he mumbled. He silently stood there staring absently at the table.

"So.. When will be the meal ready?" you changed topic, snapping him out of his thoughts.

Tamlin gave you a questioning look. "You don't mind eating with me?"

You huffed, raising a brow. "Have I ever given you such impression?" He searched your eyes and then returned back to portioning the deer.

"You know what I've done, don't you?" he asked while putting a piece of meat on the spit.

"I heard something."

"I see." You felt him watching you out of the corner of his eye.

You smiled. "Do you plan to lock me up in your manor?"

His head snapped up. "No," he hurried to answer. "I-"

"Easy," you stopped him. "I was just teasing you." You smiled wider. Slowly a shy smirk appeared on his face, his shoulders relaxed bit more.

A silence stretched between you. Tamlin was roasting the meat, while you were standing as far from the rest of the deer as possible, going through almost empty shelves. When his servants were leaving they took most of the useful things with them. In one of the cupboards you managed to find some plates and cutlery.

"Do you.. do you have a name?" Tamlin asked suddenly.

You hummed. "Probably, but I don't remember it," you said unexcited.

"So with your past you forgot also your name," he stated. You nodded. "Well then.. how should I call you?"

"I don't know. Does it matter?" you shrugged.

Tamlin stopped in the middle of reaching out to turn the meat, gaping at you. "Of course it matters. Everyone has name." He stepped closer, examining your face in disbelief. You gazed back at him. He was met with emptiness of your eyes. There was again no emotion, no sentiment nor desire. It was disturbing.

"If that's the case I will give you name," he decided lastly. He took his time, watching you, circling around you with thoughtful expression. "How about... No." He circled around you one more time. "I will call you.. Y/N. What do you think?"

"Well.. I guess it's..fine." It felt strange. You didn't want to, but nevertheless you cared. It was just a name, yet it changed you. You couldn't grasp what it had done to you, but it was big. You felt different.

"Fine?" He raised a brow. He watched you closely, lightly grinning at your reaction. "Your High Lord just gave you new name and you say 'fine'?" He really enjoyed teasing you. You shrugged.

Since then he made sure to call you by the name he gave you at every opportunity. It took some time, but at last you got used to it.

#tamlin x reader #pro tamlin #tamlin acotar #tamlin #high lord of spring #acotar #acotar fanfiction #rhysand acotar #rhysand #sarah j maas

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yourheart-inmyhands · 1 year

Note

Yesss I can finally request!!1!!!

Sorry I just wanted needed to know this 😔

Yan!Archons with a s/o who acts like a mother. Like with Zhongli, the s/o treats Xiao and Qiqi like their children. I feel like most of them would take advantage of it 💀💀

i'm pretty sure i've said it before but i don't particularly want kids but y'all give me awful baby fever D:<

Warning: this post contains yandere-themes, including delusional behaviors, uh honestly there isn't much in this one either, other potential topics. Please read at your own risk!

Yandere!Venti thinks it’s cute, seeing the way you interact with the little kids around town. Diona and Klee adore you, loving that you always bring them snacks and treat them with such kindness. It especially warms his heart because he knows how absent their real parents are so he doesn’t mind letting you out of the house more often for their sake. He also won’t deny the absolute baby fever it gives him, the sudden urge to have children of your own taking over his mind entirely.

Venti couldn’t help the smile on his face as he watched you play around with the two girls. They had insisted you help them with their hair, them having messed it up after playing tag in the city. He couldn’t deny the sudden urge to have a child of your own, a sweet little thing that was the perfect mix of the two of you. Archons couldn’t have children with humans though, so for now he was content to watch you interact with the local Mondstat kids, dreaming of the day you could have your own.

Yandere!Zhongli would find you parenting Xiao and QiQi to be quite humorous. He had spent many years trying to parent the angsty boy himself and yet you made much faster progress in a month. QiQi could also be quite the challenge and yet you had the patience of an Archon themself with her. A true gift to him and both the kids.

Zhongli watched as you scolded Xiao for getting hurt again, leaving QiQi to find him and bring him back to BuBu Pharmacy. It was quite funny to see the boy get so flustered, hands fiddling with his polearm. Zhongli had gotten on the boy's case many times about this and he never seemed to take it to heart, but you had a different effect on the male. Even QiQi seemed to naturally trust your judgment despite her forgetful nature. It warmed Zhongli’s heart to see you getting along so well with the two, loving her naturally you seemed to fall into the parental role.

Yandere!Raiden doesn’t see any use in children, after everything with Kunikuzushi she simply has no desire to be in the parental role. She also believes it to be unnecessary for you as the two of you will never have children together. Despite this she will still allow you to interact with the local children, namely Sayu.

Raiden sighed as she saw you playing with the young girl in the courtyard, a lighthearted game of tag being played amongst the two of you. Sayu often came here to hide out from Kano Nana, enjoying the sunlight naps that you two would take or the fun, simple games you’d play. Tag was her favorite but she was also fond of hide and seek as well as eye spy. While Raiden would never outright tell you that she disapproved, she’d never join you either, making it known her opinion from across the way. Her subtle glare and cold shoulder all the proof you need.

Yandere!Furina doesn’t like kids, she thinks that she should be the only one to get your undivided attention and that she’s plenty fun and entertaining. Why do you want to hang out with kids when she's already baby?

An annoyed huff left Furina’s as you continued to interact with the Melusines. You two were supposed to be out on a date together, not hanging out with the Melusines. It was Neuvillette’s job to look after them, not yours! You should be paying attention to her, giving her your love and time and focusing on what she has to say. She’s certainly going to throw a fit if it continues, and even more so if you just try to brush it off. You are Furina’s partner and you should be giving her all your love.

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dreaisgrayte · 7 months

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Under the Goddess' Veil [TEASER]

A/n: This fic was a tad bit spur of the moment to take a break from rewriting some of Lady of Amberguard. Turns out I really like the idea and haven't been able to stop writing on it for 2 days. I will say this will be a bit of plot in the first 4 or 5 thousand words but from then on...dear Lord forgive me for the absolute FILTH I have planned.

Description: I'll give a silly one for right now, basically a maiden gets sacrificed to 5 dragons and a lot of fucking happens. The end.

Pairings: Obanai Iguro, Sanemi Shinazugawa, Giyuu Tomioka, Uzui Tengen, and Kyojuro Rengoku x reader

ENJOY!

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“I was supposed to be sacrificed to you for the honor of my village…” You trail off, trying to connect the dots. You glance in the direction of Sanemi, his usually stern eyes softening when they connect with yours. “Are you going to eat me?” Your words sound pitiful, like you had accepted that fact already – and you had. You’d be raised on the single constant that you would be fed to the Gods atop the neverending tips.

Uzui appears in front of you, a lazy smirk playing with his lips as he leans down to be eye level with you. “Not in the way you’re thinking.” He purrs, rolling his smirk into his mouth.

Kyojuro pushes forward, his long hair whipping in the wind Obanai was still creating. “Your humans assume when we request a maiden to be given to us that we would feast upon her supple flesh,” He sighs, looking at Obanai as he speaks. “Every century our loneliness becomes unbearable. There was the occasional soul that attempted to harm us, wanting to take the hoard for themself, but that didn’t last long. Other draconics would visit us, but some of them would fight for our territory.” Your eyes are drawn to Sanemi again and his plethora of scars. He avoids your gaze at all costs, he finds the outer wall of the cave particularly interesting.

Kyojuro continues with a solemn smile. “Then one day a beautiful woman found her way into the lower tunnels. She came begging us to help her village, people were sick – dying. She was ready to give anything to us for the sake of the people.”

Uzui, who is leaning against the wall, pipes up again. “So she gave us her body.” Your brows knit together. Her body? What exactly did that mean? Kyojuro shoots him a glare before setting himself in front of your gaze, staring into your eyes.

“The women before you were scared, frightened of the big bad monsters within the Ponorich peaks. Most of them tried to escape with no avail…they would get lost and starve or stay within our sight and do the same thing. There were others that would find our hoard and selfishly conspire to harm us to take it.” Kyojuro’s eyes are bright swirls. “We want a mate, a bride.” Bride…you had dreamed about a day adorned with joy once. It had been a quick thought, squashed by the reality that you understood from a very young age. Though, now perhaps you could live the life that had been taken away from you.

The wind dies down and you quickly look behind to find Obanai stepping onto the edge in a graceful manner. He nods his head at you, an ethereal glow still present in his eyes. It made your stomach dip in the strangest way. "You can have one of us,” He waves his arm to the group of men, their eyes trained on you. Obanai steps forward, picking up your hands softly. You peer at him through your lashes. “Or all of us." He finishes. A distinguishing feeling glides through your very being. Something that tells you if you were going to die for the village the least you could do was live for them.

"I-I'd like to have all of you..." You stammer, your confidence dropping with every second. When did you decide to become so brazen? Here you were, a maiden surrounded by five men that surely looked upon you with heat and desire.

"Are you sure you can handle that little doe? Becoming the wife of five hungry dragons isn't going to be easy. You will ache when you are without us and you will ache when you are with us." Giyuu coos, placing a hand on your back. It sends licks of warmth that jolt to where you had never been touched.

“You will become ours in every way possible.” Uzui is now to your other side, hand upon your waist. “We will take you whenever we want,” A piece of hair falls to the side of his ear, distracting you for a moment until he brings your gaze back to him with fingers under your chin. “And you can take us whenever you want.”

Kyojuro hangs his arms around your shoulders, placing himself square behind you. The thin material of your slip does nothing to hide the warmth radiating off the man. “When our heat occurs you will have to be careful. One of us may ravish you and then two more join in.” He nudges your head with affection and your stomach stirs.

“Are you willing to make sacrifices?” Sanemi asks, still standing a few feet away from the huddle the rest of them had now created around you.

“I was raised to do so.” You reply, a confident nod moving your head.

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enchantrum · 4 months

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The Astral Prism Isn't Grindr!- Why the Emperor didn't catfish you.🦑

Very long, rambling post I wrote while manic at 4 am. Enjoy!

I feel like the worst thing you can actually say about Emp in regards to his actions towards the player is that he lies by omission. But even then, to consider it lying you basically have to work from the perspective that you as a player, person, character or whatever, are entitled to know everything about someone you just met, who might have some very good reasons for not wanting to reveal certain things

He didn't "catfish" you the prism isn't grindr lmao?! And the game/companions/etc repeat to you over and over that the Dream Visitor is some kind of manufactured vision. You all have one and it's specific to your individual minds. He wasn't exactly doing some deepcover shit with a fake backstory to get your cryptowallet information or whatever real-life equivalence you keep trying to make. As if you run into alien squid monsters every day or something!

It's doubly bizarre because there is an extremely popular companion character whose entire arc is ACTUALLY lying to you about who they are, only admitting it when you catch them attacking you in your sleep, and then goes on to try to ACTUALLY manipulate you with sex and intimacy while at that point, not actually feeling it. This is the most popular character in the fandom btw- Astarion.

Emperor's morality is held up to a ridiculous standard. Not even the companions are held to that level- not even close!

A better equivalence to his situation than "catfishing" (a term completely exclusive to our world) would be if a sentient, alien creature was stranded on our planet and had to use a disguise to y'know....not be shot at and killed by confused humans? Why the heck would your brain first jump to catfishing? Girl if you approached your DG as a tindr date that's on you! Lliterally the only prompt the game gives you before creating them is "you need a guardian" (At least currently that's how it works, after official release.)

if you met a kind of weird guy and fell for him and he then revealed he's actually a sentient squid monster, I don't think your first response would be "OMG YOU CATFISHED ME?" I'm pretty sure it would be "HOLY FUCK A SQUID MONSTER!" because it would be very obvious and apparent (by virtue of them being a squid monster) that the intent was not to "catfish" you, but to survive a world that would be actively hostile towards him, on sight.

We accept this type of "ambiguous morality for the sake of survival" from characters like Astarion who are traditionally attractive, but we don't accept it from a being whose very appearance, forces them into that position of moral ambiguity. Emperor is not afforded the same privilege of even being able to consider full honesty, because just one look at him could make someone hysterical. Hiding himself from you is not an active choice he's able to make, anymore than a turtle can choose to break open it's shell- it will die.

Even if YOU wouldn't kill him, what about companions like Lae'zal, who are already suspicious of him and will definitely cut him down at that point? Even if you think that would be a good thing, you would then lose your protection from the tadpole/the Absolute. The game basically wouldn't exist without the Prism.

Let's also not use "well Astarion is traumatized" as an excuse here. Emperor is pretty obviously traumatized as well, in addition to being a brain-eating squid monster and having to manage that part of his nature, the way Astarion has to handle his. Yet he's still more up front than Astarion was. Astarion can accidentally kill you while drinking from you and he still doesn't reveal who he is to the others, AND pretends he doesn't know what happened to you lol.

Note my point here isn't "Astarion bad" but simply that if you have room in your heart to sympathize with characters like Astarion, then there's no reason you can't squeeze my man Emp in there too. He doesn't do anything significantly worse than any of the other main characters but is the most hated, and it's literally because of this ridiculous perception of him "catifshing" the player. The most media illiterate take I have ever seen in my life, honestly

Like first off, he's a squid, and secondly! ☝️ Read all that again.

tl;dr if you feel "cafished" by the Emperor you simply weren't paying attention for more than half the game. Fantasy might not be for you if you can't remove the plot from real life circumstances and turn complex fantasy monsters into human romance scammers, as if they're actually alike in any meaningful way.