#they were the only two in a litter and a bonded pair

[moonfableflor]

Bonus: explain who your cats are and how you got them in the tags

[ichorai]

snow spider ; miguel o'hara.

pairing ; miguel o'hara x spider!reader (gender-neutral)

synopsis ; you were the ice to his fire—and miguel was burning for you.

words ; 4.4k

themes ; fluff, slight angst

warnings / includes ; set before the events of atsv, descriptions of injury/violence, cursing, a bit suggestive, mentions/appearances of other spidey characters, ben being a dramatic idiot, peter & may being adorable, cameos of magneto and doc ock, miguel is down so bad, can you guys tell i'm also in an asoiaf phase ? (winter is coming !!)

a/n ; there will be a part two set during the events of atsv !!

main masterlist.

You were Miguel’s seventeenth recruit. The first of your name. The first that wasn’t a Peter Parker, or a Jessica Drew, or a Ben Reilly. 

When Miguel dropped into your universe, one rife with crime and tragedy, stricken by a never-ending winter, he fell into a large pile of snow. 

“Damn it,” he whispered through chattering teeth, brushing off the frigid frost clinging to his suit and glancing around the iced-over city. There were sparse few people littering the streets, hovering over trash-fires and clutching rumbling stomachs. This was certainly a stark contrast to Nueva York—the universe looked dead, almost. A ghost town, frozen over into nothing but a glacial artifact.

Before Miguel could start forward to look for the Spider of the universe, a sticky web shot out from seemingly nowhere, binding his hands together. Ah. It seemed that you’d found him before he could find you.

“You’re not from here. I can’t smell the winter on you,” a voice echoed, saturated with curiosity, edged with caution. A second later, you materialized in front of him, clad in a white suit, sharp silver lines running over your form. On your chest was a spider, a pale snowflake engraved into its abdomen. Miguel stared at you with wide eyes. “Who are you?”

A beat of silence. 

“Your universe is cold,” was all he could think of saying, still caught off-guard. 

You took a step back. “My universe…?”

After clearing his throat, he shook himself out of his reverie. “My name is Miguel O’Hara. I’m from a different universe. I’m here to recruit you into my team to help keep the multiverse from collapsing.”

You shifted, muscles still tense. “How do I know you’re telling the truth?”

Lifting his wrists, Miguel twisted a hand and used his sharp claws to cut himself free of the sticky bonds. “Let me show you.”

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Miguel wasn’t supposed to like you this much. You were just meant to be another recruit for the Spider Society… maybe a close work companion, or a trusted friend at best. 

But as he watched you dart in and out of visibility, your suit only but flashes of white and silver, he couldn’t help but marvel at how easy it was to work with you. How much he genuinely enjoyed working with you, spending time with you, listening to you laugh at his stiff quips. And he really thought he was being subtle about it, but Jessica had already picked up on Miguel’s keen interest in you, always teasing him about having a crush on another Spider.

It wasn’t a crush, though. No, Miguel just really liked your work ethic.

Right?

“Heads up!” you yelled, swinging forward and using the momentum to kick an incoming car barreling right in his direction. The metal doors caved in beneath the power of your strike, veering to the left just in time to miss him. 

The two of you were taking down another anomaly that’d cropped up, one of the several dozens in only the past week. This anomaly, however, wasn’t the regular neighborhood villain they’d usually get, but instead an omega-level mutant: Magneto. 

Shards of metal rained down around you, but you were quick to deflect by thwipping out large, sticky webs to catch them before they could impale you. 

“This guy manipulates metal, Miguel!” you yelled. “Cuffs won’t work on him!” 

Another large metal pole rocketed straight for you, but Miguel dove towards you, yanking you out of the way.

“Thanks!” you told him, a bit too wound up to notice his large hands tightly wound around your midriff. “Can you distract him for me?”

Nodding wordlessly, Miguel shot out several glowing, synthetic webs in quick succession to momentarily blind Magneto. You used his shoulder to launch yourself upward, turning invisible in mid-air. 

Before the man could realize what was happening, you yanked his protective helmet off, landing a calculated strike to the back of his head. Immediately, all the bits of metal floating in the air came plummeting to the ground, and Magneto went limp in your hold. You swung down to the ground, coming back into view. 

“You’re gonna have to alert one of the Spiders that we need a metal-free cage for him,” you told Miguel, a bit breathless. 

Okay, a lot breathless. There was a sharp sting on your side—a broken piece of metal must have grazed you during the fight.

Miguel wound an arm around you to help you walk, concern festering within his chest at the sight of crimson staining your once-pristine white suit, his other hand dragging an unconscious Magneto by the scruff of his collar. With a tap of the watch, a portal opened up, flashing a multitude of bright oranges and purples. 

Back in his universe, Miguel was quick to hand Magneto over to a few Peters, telling them to be careful not to get any metal near him. You pulled off your mask and squeezed Miguel’s bicep in gratitude when he shifted his hold on you, ensuring that you wouldn’t put any weight on your injured side. Even exhausted, you were beautiful. Miguel remembered the first time he saw you without your mask: the entirety of his linguistic vernacular went flying out the window and he was left embarrassingly spluttering out a long string of incoherent sentences. You were patient with him, beaming wide and nodding emphatically, even though none of what he said had made sense. 

Yeah, alright, fine. Miguel had a crush. It really wasn’t a big deal (it was a very big deal). He’d be damned if he’d ever admit it to Jessica, though—that woman would never let him live it down.

Several Spiders waved hello to the two of you as you hobbled by, and you could only give them a winded half-smile in return. Some of them asked if you were alright, noticing the blood on your suit, but you reassured their worries away, “I’m fine. Miguel’s got me.”

A rush of protectiveness fell over him, and he clutched onto you all the tighter, hurrying to make his way back to the base. There were a few Spiders hanging around the control panels, chattering amongst themselves, and Miguel gave them a quick scan to make sure things were going smoothly since his departure. Once everything seemed to be in order, he finally tugged you into a more secluded room, helping you sit on a table as he grabbed the first aid kit. 

“Sorry,” he murmured, ripping off his mask as well. His dark hair was disheveled, sharp brown eyes softening with guilt. “I got distracted during the fight.”

“Hey, it happens,” you replied warmly, fingers lifting to pat his cheek. The feeling of your cold skin pressed up against the blistering heat emanating from his cheeks made a shiver dance up his spine. “We’re alive, and we got the anomaly. Everything’s fine.” 

“But you’re hurt.”

“I’ll heal.”

With careful, fleeting touches, Miguel drew back the ripped fabric of your suit to inspect the gash in your side. He cleaned away as much blood as he could, murmuring gruff apologies every time you flinched. The guilt worsened when he began deftly stitching up your wound—it didn’t go past his notice when your face twisted with the pain, and you bit your lip in a fruitless attempt to keep the sharp agony at bay.

“You did good out there, Y/N,” he said, desperate to distract you. “What was it like being the Spider in your universe?”

You spared him a loose grin, appreciating his attempts to keep you entertained. 

“Tiring,” you admitted, fingers digging into his shoulders when he began another stitch. “I mean, I’m sure you’ve heard the same story a million times by now. I was a scientist, trying to find a way to reverse the never-ending winter. I was bitten by a radioactive winter-spider… the only kind of spider left after our world iced over. I, uhm… I lost my uncle. My mom, shortly after. She was captain of the police force.” 

There was a long pause. It was obvious that you weren’t too keen on divulging all the details just yet. Your eyes watered with the memory, a glimmering film of tears warbling over your lower lashes, and Miguel gently patted your knee in understanding, silently reassuring you that you didn’t have to tell him everything.

You drew in a deep breath. “I realized I had powers—I had all the abilities of a spider, and I could turn invisible, and withstand the cold much more than before. I was known as the Snow Spider. A lot of people died from the frost. I couldn’t save them. I tried to help as much as I could, but it was just never enough. And then… I met you.” A smile graced your expression, one that sparked life into Miguel’s heart. “I moved from just helping my city, to helping the entire multiverse.”

Before you knew it, Miguel was tying off the last stitch, biting the thread short with his sharp fangs once he was done. You murmured a sincere thanks, placing your palm flat against his chest, feeling the quick thrum of his heart slamming against his ribcage.

If you noticed how his pulse seemed to kick up a notch with your ministrations, you didn’t say anything. For that, Miguel was grateful.

“There you go. That’s a brief summary of my life story. It’s only fair if you tell me yours.”

The man met your gaze, irises dark and warring with conflict.

“What’s there to say? I got powers, just like you. I lost people, just like you. I built the Spider Society… and then I met you.” The last bit was said as he nudged you gently, and he offered you a tentative smile, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

Hesitant, you lifted your hand, softly grazing your knuckles against his cheek. Icy was your touch, but it felt nice—almost addicting. He found himself leaning against your hand, shutting his eyes as he exhaled.

“You’re a mystery, Miguel,” you murmured, leaning forward to press a chaste kiss to his cheek as thanks for patching you up, before sliding off the table to stride away. Miguel watched you go with a lump in his throat. “Luckily for you, I like mysteries.”

“How long has that been a thing? I haven’t noticed because I’ve been too busy thinking about my… miserable past,” sighed Ben, coming to stand beside Jessica, the two of them watching Miguel follow after you like a lost puppy, face uncharacteristically mellowed with an undeniable lovesick expression. 

“It’s not a thing,” she replied with an amused scoff. “Not yet, at least.”

You halted what you were doing and turned around to grin at Miguel. “Look, I stitched my suit back together. It’s good as new!” 

His dark, molten eyes gleamed with affection. “It looks great.” He caught sight of your web-shooters, fixed against the base of your hand. “I still can’t believe you need those.”

“Well, I can’t believe you have spinnerets embedded into your skin. I can’t tell if I’m more grossed out or curious to know more,” you shot back, taking his hand to inspect his wrist with narrowed eyes. “What other kind of powers do you have?”

With a roguish grin, he bared his teeth, sharp fangs drawing out. 

“I can never get over those. They’re kinda intimidating, but in a cool way.” Before you could stop yourself, you tacked on, “And really fucking hot.”

Heat crawled up his neck. He stared blankly at you. “They’re poisonous.”

Still, you smiled at him, all sweet and flustered. “Hm. It’s a shame, really. I definitely would’ve asked you to bite me if not for the venom.” Neither of you were quite sure if you were joking or not.

Miguel was certain he was going to combust into flames. “I can still bite you without injecting the poison into your system. It’s a voluntary response.”

To his surprise, you burst into a fit of laughter. Gods, he was absolutely smitten with that sound. The way your nose wrinkled, the side of your eyes creased, the shaking of your shoulders as you chuckled… it was all too much for Miguel.

“Don’t tempt me with a good time,” you warned.

“Oh, I can do much more than just tempt,” said the man in front of you, making your laughter taper away into silence. 

You studied him for a moment longer. Before you could say anything, both of your watches beeped simultaneously. With one more amused huff, you patted his shoulder, brushing past him and pulling your mask over your face. “Come on, mister. Anomalies to catch, universes to save… we can continue this conversation later.”

The months pass by in a blur. 

You were wrangling back another Doc Ock anomaly, having webbed up all his metal tentacles, easily tossing him into a temporary laser cage with a sweet smile. The villain was spitting obscenities, going on and on about the power of the sun in his grasp, how you’d ruined everything for him. 

“You’ll pay for this!” he yelled, slamming his fist against the glowing barrier. 

“Sorry, Doc,” you said with a mild grin. “I’ve met around a dozen of you, and so far, you were the most compliant. That makes you my favorite!”

You saluted him with a wink, before turning on your heel and striding away. It wasn’t long before Miguel found you, falling into step with your stride.

“Look at you, taking on anomalies all on your own,” he murmured lowly, nudging your side with his elbow. “Good job.”

With a scoff, you pulled off your mask, regarding him with an expectant gaze as you leaned forward, so close that your nose nearly brushed against his. He could feel the cold frost of your breath blow over the heated planes of his cheeks. “Well, then, Mr. O’Hara, wouldn’t I deserve a reward?”

The vampire-spider only flushed at your words, mouth falling open and shut as he struggled with a rebuttal. 

Your laugh, soft and tinkering, made his heart nearly seize within his chest. Still chuckling, you shoved away from him, saying that you had to get back to your universe to make sure everything was still in order there.

As you made your way out of the room, using your watch to portal through to your wintry hellscape, Jessica appeared out of nowhere beside him, one hand on her heavily pregnant belly, and the other cocked upon her hip. 

“God, you really can’t be more obvious, can you?” she asked.

Miguel spared her a glance, snapping out of his reverie and standing up straighter. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Everyone knows you’re in love with the Snow Spider. And don’t you deny it—I know a liar when I see one.” She watched Miguel frown, but didn’t bother protesting her claim. “Yeah. That’s what I thought. Tell them, you big grump. Y/N deserves to know.”

Before he could reply, Jessica was already hastening away, yelling over her shoulder that she had to go to the bathroom because the damn baby was kicking against her bladder again.

Jealousy was not an emotion Miguel was well acquainted with. Ever since he witnessed an entire universe crumbling away in front of him, he was careful not to get too attached to anything. To anyone.

But he did. He grew attached to Jessica, who was his most trusted friend, always giving him the best advice and always available to lend him a helping hand. Though he’d never admit it, Miguel was also rather fond of Ben and his obnoxious penchant for his dramatic tragedies. And, most obvious of all, he was undoubtedly very close to his best soldier, Lego Peter.

Then there was you.

It infuriated him—the way you’d smile around him, give him the most fleeting of touches, always pleasantly cold, leaving prickly goosebumps in your wake. You would offer him an affectionate nudge and a myriad of teasing compliments that made his stomach want to fold in upon itself. But Miguel tried not to think too much of it: you were a generally kind person, with many of the Spiders in the society taking a certain liking to you. It didn’t go past his notice that you’d caught more than a few romantic eyes. Every time a Peter or a Ben would openly flirt with you, he could feel himself bristling, bile rising within his throat.

Again, Miguel wasn’t used to feeling jealous. He wanted to be the one cooking dinner for you, holding you in his arms, kissing you, touching you—

To his relief, you never paid them much mind, often politely declining with a poorly-forged excuse of having to return to your universe.

It was nearly a year since you’d first met Miguel when you were at Headquarters, holding a babbling Mayday as she crawled all over you. You laughed when she climbed up onto your shoulders, slipping down into your hands with a gleeful coo, blue eyes bright and wide. With gentle hands, you brushed her messy ginger hair away from her face. 

“She doesn’t look like you, huh?” you asked Peter B. Parker. “She must be a carbon copy of her momma.”

“A good thing,” admitted the man beside you, muffling a yawn as he dug the heels of his palms into his sleep-deprived eyes, adorned with dark bags. “Wouldn’t want her taking after her old man, now would I?”

“Why not?” you asked, amusedly watching when May shot out a web from her tiny shooters, swinging away to clumsily scale a nearby wall. “I think you’re very handsome. Trust me, the sleep-deprived look is very trendy right now. In my universe, at least. Nobody can really sleep well with the never-ending cold we got going there.”

Peter gave you a loose smile. “You know what, you’re right. Dad bods are making a comeback. By the way, did I tell you about my coin collection—”

Before Peter could finish what he was saying, your watch beeped noisily, and Ben’s slumped hologram appeared over your wrist. “Y/N, I’m glad you’re here,” he said. You had to hold your tongue not to retort that he was the one that’d called you. “I need you to come comfort me and hold onto my strong, muscular arms as I tell you about my gruesome past.” The pale image of Ben flickered as he flexed his biceps. 

You rolled your eyes to the side. Ben had become a close friend during your time with the Spider Society, nearly inseparable after you’d saved his life from an Electro anomaly once. That man was quite the emotional one, he was.

“I’ll be there, just give me a minute.” 

“Bring me one of those Spider-burgers, will you? Extra ketchup and no p—”

You tapped at your watch and his hologram disappeared before he could finish his request. With a mild wince, you glanced at Peter. “You wanna come with me and listen to Ben dramatically mope for an hour? I’ll treat you and May to Spider-burgers, because it looks like I’ll have to stop by there, anyway.”

“I would, I really would, but I gotta put May down for a nap,” he said with a sympathetic slant of his lips. As if on cue, the baby fell back into Peter’s arms, yawning widely. Bouncing her up and down, Peter absent-mindedly remarked, “Make sure Miguel doesn’t catch you being all sweet with Ben. That guy is crazy about you. Hah, he’d lose his marbles!” 

You blinked.

“What?”

Peter froze, realizing what he’d just said.

“What?” he parroted.

“No, uh, what did you say, about Miguel being…”

“Nothing! Huh? I didn’t say anything.”

“Yes, you did. I heard you. Peter, what are you saying? Miguel is—?” 

Sheepish, Peter scratched the back of his head. “Oh, wow, would you look at the time!” Peter pulled down the sleeve of his pink bathrobe to mimic looking at the watch. He hastily stepped away. “I have to go. I didn’t say anything. Bye! I’d love a Spider-burger with you another time! Bye! See you later!”

You watched in bewilderment when the older man swung away with his baby in his hands, muttering out a long string of panicked curses under his breath.

Miguel was crazy about you?

After a few seconds of deliberating your next move, you shot out a web and swung away, heading to Miguel’s private office, where you knew he would be buried in figuring out a solution to the influx of new anomalies. Surely Ben would be alright with you showing up a bit late (he wouldn’t, but you had more pressing matters at hand).

“Hey, Miguel,” you greeted with a soft voice, slipping inside after knocking twice. “Hope I’m not catching you at a bad time.”

The man offered you a warm grin. “Never a bad time with you. What’s going on?”

“Well, I just… I had a rather interesting talk with Peter B,” you started, striding across the office until you stood just in front of his desk, with Miguel on the other side.

He tilted his head. “Was it about that collection of coins he lost to an anomaly? He needs to get over that.”

“I—what? The poor guy lost his coin collection? He’d been working on that for years!” Shaking your head, you mindfully got back on track. “Well, no, that’s not what we talked about.”

Dark eyes narrowing, Miguel crossed his arms, deadpanning, “What did he tell you?”

There was a rather mischievous hue to your expression that Miguel misliked. Slow and deliberate, you stepped around the desk, fingers dragging along the smooth top. You stood so close to him that your chest was only a hair’s breadth from his—if he were to take too deep a breath, the two of you would be touching by now.

“Hm… Peter accidentally let slip that you have feelings for me. Is that true, Miguel?” The way his name rolled off your tongue nearly made him choke as his brain short-circuited. 

“I… I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said, echoing the exact thing he had said to Jess a month ago. 

You studied him, gaze dragging from his stiff face, to his tense stature, and back up again. It may have been a trick of light, but Miguel could swear he saw your eyes linger on his lips. 

With a hum, you leaned even closer. He could hear your heart thrumming now, a steady, strong beat—which completely juxtaposed against his own rapid pulse, drumming loud within his ears. Up this close, he could smell your perfume, see the flecks of color within your pretty eyes, notice the way your lips quirked up with a sweet smile. Even whilst teasing him, you made sure that you weren’t overstepping any bounds, giving him ample time to step away if need be.

“Oh,” you said, feigning confusion. Your hand rested upon his clavicle, nails lightly dragging down his neck. A sharp thrill struck down Miguel’s spine at the sensation. You were barely touching him, for God’s sake! “So you wouldn’t mind if I… go ask Ben out for dinner?”

A beat of silence. Miguel’s brows knitted together.

The next words were susurrated as you dipped forward to nudge your nose along his neck, pressing a cold whisper of a kiss along the underside of his jaw. “Or if I… I don’t know… if I invite him to stay at my place for the night?” 

Of course, there was no real weight to your words. Ben was simply a good friend, but damn if you didn’t enjoy the way Miguel’s eyes twitched.

Finally snapping, a low growl rumbled within his chest, his hands shooting out to grab your waist. You were cold to the touch, the ice to his fire, as his fingers curled over your back, shoving you up against the wall behind his desk. As if on instinct, your hands came to clutch at his broad shoulders.

You smiled, wide and triumphant. You’d finally broke him. 

“I’m going to kiss you now,” he gruffed, staring deep into your eyes to make sure you were alright with this. The last thing he wanted to do was make you uncomfortable. From your gleeful expression, Miguel could see that you were just the opposite. 

“Oka—mmph!” 

His lips slanted over yours, warm and rough, yet cold and soft at the same time. It was a kiss of starkly juxtaposing contrasts, heavy with months and months of unspoken yearning. His large nose brushed against your cheek, angling his face to kiss you harder—deeper. 

When one of your hands slithered up the back of his neck to tug at the roots of his dark hair, he sighed against your mouth, breaking the kiss to lean his forehead over yours.

“He was right,” said Miguel.

“Who was?”

“Peter. I do have feelings for you.”

You kissed the corner of his mouth, nudging your nose against his sharp cheekbone. “Really? I would’ve never guessed.” He surged forward to kiss you again, relishing in the way you just about melted into his touch. “If it wasn’t obvious already, I really like you, too.”

At your admission, Miguel beamed, loose and hesitant. “You still planning on asking Ben out to dinner and having him stay over at your place, then?”

You tapped a finger onto your chin, pretending to have a good, long think about it. “Give me a good reason to stay, and I won’t.” At Miguel’s slightly crestfallen expression, you patted his cheek, quick to say, “God, Miguel, I was just kidding. Ben and I are good friends. You and I, however… I wouldn’t exactly call you a friend—”

His lips met yours again, stealing the rest of your words from you. 

When you smiled into the kiss, he smiled back. It was a bit too early for love, sure, but Miguel already knew he was in too deep to back out.

He was falling in love with you. 

The thought terrified him to no end, but he merely kissed you harder, and clutched you all the closer to him.

[55sturn]

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ SOME TYPE OF WAY

↳ masterlist!

↳ summary: in which y/n takes matt up on the offer he proposes after they meet at a party, however they feel their resolve slipping as the tension grows thicker.

↳ pairings: biker!matt sturniolo x good girl!fem!reader

↳ warnings: swearing, reckless driving [ matt’s a thrill seeker / adrenaline junkie ], sexual tension, 18+, sexual content [ groping over and underneath the clothes ], making out, choking, spit swapping, open ending.

↳ important notes: yall really have me getting bold on here with requests that i can’t deny huh ??? based off this tiktok sent through anon and meddle about by chase atlantic.

THIRD PERSON POV

y/n has always been a very organized person, every move she made was calculated and meticulous, not leaving enough room for error or her anxiety to spiral up a storm. some would lean toward calling her uptight, but she would let it roll off her back like water because she found a way for everything in her life to fall in line smoothly without many problems arising.

her best friend, jess, has always been the exact opposite of her. she was chaotic and messy, always running late, often being caught in compromising situations and relying on y/n to bail her out. the two were on the opposites of the personality spectrum, and people would screw their faces up at the sight of the two, but they paid no mind because their bond worked.

jess always joked about breaking y/n, turning into the opposite of her but y/n was stubborn, finding the utmost comfort in the way she lived. she didn't see the appeal of chaos and living without restriction.

but her class load had grown rather heavy, and she felt her impulse control weakening the more jess mentioned this massive influencer party that she had garnered invites for through multiple connections, and jess wasn’t backing down.

“fine. i think it’s time i take a break anyway, jess.”

“wait? are you for real right now?” jess exclaimed, shocked that for once in their friendship, she wasn’t going to a party alone.

WE ONLY MET EACH OTHER JUST THE OTHER DAY

as y/n followed jess through the crowd of people, she felt an overwhelming swarm of different and conflicting emotions, part of her wanted to turn around and walk back to her apartment, while the other part wanted to stick it out, figuring it couldn’t be as bad as she psyched herself out to believe, especially if jess, who was known for being blunt and outspoken if someone was overwhelming, could tolerate it.

y/n felt out of place, clad in a baby pink pleather mini skirt, and a matching pink long sleeve raglan baby tee, both courtesy of jess, and a pair of pink platform converse. she quickly trailed behind her best friend, who seemed to know her way around the house, more so mansion, they were partying at, heading toward the kitchen.

“so what are you wanting to drink?” jess hums, gesturing the otherworldly amounts of alcohol littering the large island in the kitchen.

“just pick something and make a drink for me.” y/n replies, turning back to face the crowd of people, watching as couples and people nearly fucked each other on various surfaces among the house. as her gaze kept flitting about the crowd of people, she briefly met the eyes of some guy across the room.

she felt her cheeks began to warm as he flashed her a lopsided smirk, his blue eyes boring into hers beneath the mop of shaggy brown hair. she returns his smirk, but hers is much gentler before turning back to jess, taking the red solo cup, staring at the dark liquid swirling in it. y/n cautiously takes a sip, while she trusts jess not to fuck her over and get her obnoxiously drunk, she’s still wary of the alcohol mixed with soda in her cup, she’s only been drunk a handful of times.

she swallows the dark drink, the taste of vodka mixed with the sweet, almost foamy taste of root beer filling her mouth, causing her to salivate ever so slightly as she takes another gracious sip.

“thank you for not giving me something other than vodka.” she laughs, watching as jess grabs two more solo cups, pouring two hefty shots of vodka into them, quickly handing one to y/n, who clinks her plastic cup against jess’ before quickly downing the shot, followed by a large gulp of her drink.

the two slowly make their way out of the kitchen, dancing with each other before beginning to talk and mingle with the rest of the people. y/n was shocked at how easily she fit into the world of influencers and content creators. as she made her way toward the deck, she felt eyes watching her, brushing it off she exited the stuffy house, finding solace in the cool april air clinging to her skin as she leaned against the railing of the wrap-around porch.

as proud as she was of herself for stepping away from her studies for a night, she still needed a moment of peace, or even just a moment alone.

but her tranquility was interrupted by the sliding door opening and shutting softly, she turned to head back inside but she was met with the same blue eyes she held contact with prior.

“hey.” he nods, pulling a cigarette from the pack that sat in his back pocket, grabbing a black and silver zippo lighter, flicking it quickly.

“hi.”

“so what’s a pretty little thing like you doing at a place like this?” he mumbled, running a hand through his hair, the dingy light from the fairy lights lining the roof catching his tattoos, completely enamouring y/n as she watched his arm flex and relax, the muscle tee he wore showing off his lean arms. at first glance, you wouldn’t expect him to have any muscle but as he moved his arm, y/n was thoroughly impressed.

“my friend dragged me here. what about you?” she replies, resting her tailbone against the railing as he smirks, his head cocked to the side as his eyes flick across her features.

“what d’ya mean?”

“just that you don’t seem like the party either, very quiet.”

“and how do you know that, sweetheart?”

“well seeing as i came out here because it’s overwhelming in there, and you did the same, and we’re the only two people out here, i’m assuming you came out here for the same reason.” she laughs, taking a sip of her drink, holding his curious stare over the rim of the flimsy cup, not once dropping his intense gaze.

“what if i just wanted to get you alone?” he teases, watching as she rolls her eyes, laughing to himself.

“then you’d be a total creep. i don’t even know your name.” she laughs, shocking herself at how easily she warmed up to him.

“it’s matt.”

“you look like a matt.” she hums placing her empty cup on the railing beside before pushing herself up, sitting along the wide railing, her legs dangling slightly as matt puffs on his cigarette, flicking the ashes on the grass below.

“what about you? you got a name or am i gonna have to keep calling you sweetheart?”

“y/n.” she whispers, her face warming at the nickname falling from his lips, she normally wasn’t one for slightly condescending pet names, but it sounded so sickly and sinfully sweet coming from the stranger beside her.

“that suits you, a pretty name for such a pretty girl.” he muses, watching as she turns her head away from in a futile attempt to hide the blush creeping across her cheeks.

“your tattoos are really pretty.”

“you think so?” he hums, shifting closer to her to let her see them, watching as her eyes shift from each intricate piece, marvelling at the dark ink contrasting against his ivory skin.

“what’s your favourite one?”

“probably cerberus or the owl. what about you? you got any?” he asks, genuinely curious to know more about the girl beside him, wondering if there was more to the soft and timid appearance.

“wouldn’t you like to know?” she teased, crossing her legs, causing her skirt to ride up the tiniest bit, showing the smallest amount of ink on the side of her thigh, smirking as matt’s eyes shamelessly drifted to the exposed skin.

the two keep talking and getting to know one another, even going as far as to get each other’s numbers, the tension growing thick between the two until jess stumbles through the door, violently drunk as she babbles away about some guy she wanted to leave with.

“if she wants to go with him, i can give you a ride home on my bike.”

“we took an uber, so i’ll just order another one but i appreciate the offer.”

“well if you ever need a ride, just shoot me a text.”

BUT YOU ALREADY GOT ME FEELIN’ SOME TYPE OF WAY

over the course of a few weeks, y/n and matt continued to keep in touch, constantly texting one another. the tension never faltering as they bounced flirty and sexual innuendos off one another.

matt has begged for the two of them to hang out, either over facetime or in person, numerous times, even going as far as to ask to take her for a ride on his bike. but she declined every time, letting him know that her studies came first.

normally, if a girl wasn’t really interested in meeting up, whether to hang out or hook up, matt would give up within the first few days. but there was something about y/n that had him inexplicably drawn to her. the soft, delicate, almost innocent appeal to her had him feeling all sorts of ways.

talking to her had him feeling the same way speeding down the seventy stretch a couple blocks from his house on his kawasaki bike did. it was exhilarating, freeing, and terrifying all the same. everything she said, made him feel things he had never experienced, it was like he was speeding down a winding freeway, his arms outstretched on either side of him, letting fate decide what happened.

NOW IF I COULD FIGURE IT OUT, ID TAKE YOU BACK TO MY HOUSE SO WE COULD MEDDLE ABOUT

y/n sighed as she waited on the curb of the restaurant, hoping that the guy from her global economics discussion course that had asked her out would show up. but she knew deep down, he wasn’t going to.

it was another story where she was asked, only to be taken for a fool. she knew he only wanted to fuck, she knew guys were attracted to her pseudo-innocent appearance, thinking they could be the lucky one to corrupt her. but she knew better, and she always made sure the guys put up a fight before receiving what they wanted.

she sighed as she stood, wiping off the back of her jeans before pulling her phone out of her pocket. she opened her texts with jess before remembering jess was at a photoshoot for some clothing brand that reached out to her.

she stood there, glancing and forth between her phone and the sidewalk, torn between swallowing her pride and reaching out to matt to pick her up, or walking home, saving ego from taking a massive blow.

she was stubborn. she wanted to see matt, but she knew what his end goal was and she refused to take another hit to her pride and ego so quickly after being stood up and humiliated by some loser in one of her classes. so, she slowly made her way down the winding sidewalk, but the cold air made the walk somewhat unbearable, and before she knew it, she was pressing the call button, listening to the dial tone. after two rings, matt picked up.

“hey sweetheart.” he hummed into the speaker, that same taunting tone never faltering over the device.

“can you pick me up? i’ll send you my location.”

“aw, what happened? did jake stand you up, just like i said he would?” he laughs, causing her to groan. he was never malicious in the way he poked and prodded at her, he just wanted to prove she didn’t have to be right all the time.

“yeah whatever. can you pick me up or not?” she spits, fed up with the way her night turned out.

“lose the attitude and i can.” he spits back, patiently waiting for her to ask in that sugary sweet voice that had his thoughts drifting to a dark place. he knew he was going to pick her up regardless, but he just wanted to use anything he could as an excuse to hear her beg for him, he wanted hee to be completely at his mercy in every possible way.

“can you please pick me up matt? i’m cold and i just wanna go home.” she pleads, her lips falling into a slight pout, internally groaning at how quickly her resolve had faltered the second he implied and demanded that she beg for him.

“i was going to regardless, just wanted to hear you beg for my help, sweetheart.” he chuckles, he knew the way he was acting was sick and twisted, his desire to see this stubborn but oh so innocent woman crumple beneath his command overtaking all sense of chivalry in his body, his desire for her manifested through such deep desperation.

she quickly thanked him before sending a ping of her location. she pocketed her phone again, and wrapped her arms around her torso as a pathetic attempt to keep her shielded from her the cold air.

as she stood there, she fought hard to keep her thoughts at bay, refusing to let the desperation seep into the depths of her mind, fighting to keep herself from feeling pathetic. she didn’t want to feel that way, she knew her worth, but sometimes it felt impossible to find someone worthy of loving her. she wondered if she should just give up the one the thing guys wanted without a fight, she would be fine, right?

but before she could answer her own thoughts of despair, a low rumble came from her left, causing her head to snap in that direction. surely enough, the sound came from the muffled engine of matt’s motorcycle. and as she watched him swerve to idle in front of her, she couldn’t stop the filthy thoughts from infiltrating her mind. her eyes shamelessly fell to the sight of his hands wrapped tightly around the handlebars, the veins in his slender hands flexing as his thumb pressed down on the clutch. she felt her thighs clench tightly as her heartbeat thumped beneath her chest, the thumping slowly travelling down toward her heat as she watched him.

“hey sweetheart.” he hums, his tone thick with arrogance, watching as she shamelessly checked him out. she knew she shouldn’t be thinking of him the way she was, but the way his shoulder blades and muscle tightened and flexed as he shifted forward, leaving space for her to climb on behind him, made her want to rake her nails down the skin, her mind running amok with the possible ways he would react to her touch.

she shakes her head as she steps forward, timidly taking a step toward his bike. he watched her, taking in however scared she was, sighing he, grabs her wrist, stopping her from climbing over and straddling the seat behind him.

“you know i’ll be careful right? i’m not going to do anything that could end with you getting severely hurt.” he whispers, his eyes full of nothing but sincerity as she meets his stare, a meek smile on her face as she nods.

“good girl. now climb on, i’m gonna take my chances and take you on that ride i promised.”

her thighs clench involuntarily at the slight praise that falls from his lips, she could feel her resolve slipping further and further away the longer she was in his presence. and the fact that she would be sitting behind him, with her arms tightly wound around his waist felt much more intimate than it should’ve.

she quickly straddled the seat behind him, her hands began to shake slightly as she wrapped her arms around him, her hands flat against his abdomen as he kicked up the kickstand, leaning the bike to the other side with his foot on the ground as he revved the engine, causing her hands to ball into fists, with his black shirt tightly twisted between her fingers. as matt took off, he couldn’t help but chuckle as her grasp tightened against him, her cheek pressing against his back between his shoulder blades.

her grip began to loosen as matt took her around the city, and her head lifted from his back, as she took in the scenery around her. but matt missed the way she felt pressed so tightly against him, so in true torturous fashion, he sped up, causing her to go right back to pressing so closely against him, her hands pressing against his lower stomach so firmly, he was sure there’d be marks.

but he didn’t wanted to scare her too much, so he slowed down, coming to a full stop as the light above him flickered to red. as she pulled away, she felt her adrenaline build up and she wanted to finally tease him the way he did her, so she let her hands wander down his stomach, teasingly drifting lower, only to stop right above his belt and move back up.

as her hand trailed down toward his belt, matt’s breath hitched in his throat. he desperately wanted to feel her touch him where he needed it most, but his ego was bruised, he wanted to be the one in control, and right now, he was nothing putty in her hand. the light was still red and his heart was beating so harshly against his ribcage, that felt like it was about to burst out of his chest as her hand slipped beneath his shirt, her fingers slipping beneath the waistband of his jeans.

as the light turned green, she pushed her hand further beyond his waistband, and he had never been more thankful to be driving at night. but before he could feel any relief, her hand was back against his stomach, with her head against his back as he drove her along the coast.

but once again they reached another red light, only one other vehicle a few lanes over from them, and this time she threw caution to the wind as her hand drifted downward again, this time not stopping at his belt. and soon enough, her hand was firmly palming his cock through his jeans, and he was biting his bottom lip so hard that the metallic taste of blood began filling his mouth.

he felt his cock stiffen even more as her hand wrapped around his length through his jeans, softly squeezing and applying pressure to it. her hand lifted momentarily, only for it to slip beneath the loosened waistband of his jeans, resuming her teasing but this time, only through one layer of clothing. her thumb traced along his tip, and she smirked to her as she felt the wet spot from his precum seeping through the material. she grasped his semi-thick cock over his boxers, slowly jerking her hand back and forth as best as she could until the light turned green. and matt had never been so lucky that the light turned green when it did because if she had kept up her ministrations, he would’ve cum in his pants right then and there.

he wasted no time in speeding off as the light turned green, taking her to a somewhat secluded turn off. he quickly killed the engine, forced the kickstand down, and ripped off his helmet, moving to stand in front of her before she could ask questions.

his lips were roughly pressing against hers in almost no time as she side-saddled the bike, his left hand pawing at her hips beneath the thin hoodie she wore as he pulled her closer, while his right hand wrapped around her throat, gently squeezing the soft flesh.

the kiss was rough, a clash of teeth, and full of lust. it was desperate and sloppy, their tongues brushing and pushing against one another as spit and drool accumulated along the muscles, transferring from mouth to mouth. her nails scraped against his scalp as she tugged on the soft brown curls, while her other hand held his bicep, her nails digging into the taught flesh slightly, leaving crescent shaped marks along the tattoos. pulling away, matt pulled her bottom lip with him slightly, entrance by the way it bounced back into its natural pout.

“fuck.” he hums, his chest heaving as she watches him, her pupils blown out with lust, the black drowning out their normal colour.

“i don’t know what came over me, i’m sorry.”

“don’t you dare apologize, sweetheart. but that is making it nearly impossible to not take you back to my house and ruin you.”

“what if i want that too?”

↳ taglist: @33sturniolo @worldlxvlys @luv4kozume @gamermattsgf @vanteguccir @sturnioloshacker @greatooglymooglyyy @sugrhigh @thugpugs4lrh @teapartyprincess4two @lustfulslxt @patscorner @guccifrog @muwapsturniolo @soursturniolo @solarsturniolo @sturnioloshacker @sturniolosmind @meanttomeet @breeloveschris @ghostofbrock @l9vesick @mylifeisevenstranger @themattgirl @freshloveee @fawnchives @cindylcuwho @freshloveforthefit @freshsturns @forevergirlposts @sturniolo-fav-matt @cupidsword @sturnifyed @querenciasturniolo @pinklittleflower @ellie-luvsfics @strniolo @junnniiieee07 @hearts4chris @hearts4chriss @evie-sturns @nicksmainbitch @inlovewithmattstur @hysteria-things @sturniolossss @iliketotalk

[TAGLIST IS FULL!] © 55STURN 2024 ! REBLOGS NOT EXPECTED BUT GREATLY APPRECIATED ! [ you do not have permission to copy or save or share my work to other platforms and devices! ]

[utterlyotterlyx]

Can I request 23, 20 and 13 with Azriel? Please and thank you!

Reckless

Azriel x Fem!Reader

Warnings - mentions of blood and injury, fluff

Based on the below prompts:

It’s three in the morning. If even half of that blood is yours you need to sit down right now. I don’t like saying ‘I told you so’ but- The hell you don’t, it’s your favourite phrase.

Enjoy!

The ticking clock and the sky drowning in its sorrow was enough to warn you that Azriel was going to be late. A once roaring fire had long since extinguished, bright molten embers nothing but ash that trickled through the grate and dusted the base.

It wasn't often that you had a moment with your mate, a real evening away from your duties to your court, and when you did you both made sure to put the maximum amount of effort in. Whether it be long walks along the Sidra, or nights in cooking together which you would always commandeer, Azriel would never miss it, he'd never meaningfully skip a chance to see you.

As the clock chimed, you turned your head to see the ornate finger poking the invisible one and sighed, shaking your head and pitifully scraping the untouched dinner plates into the compost bin, leaving them on the counter to tend to in the morning.

The house felt cold without him, but even then you'd still complain that it was cold when he was right beside you just so that you could have his arms wrap around you securely, and you were sure that he knew about it from the sly smirk he would always give you before opening his arms to, chuckling to himself as you'd scurry into his embrace.

Azriel had sent nothing down the bond, which meant that he was busy, but he was so late, five hours late be exact and it made you feel on edge; every time he had been late in the past he would send a flurry of adoration and guilt down the bond to reassure you that he would return to you, but there was nothing but stone cold silence and shadow shrouded walls locking you out.

Twiddling the large rock on your ring finger you began the journey to your bedroom.

Rhys had insisted on buying yourself and Azriel your own home as a mating gift, but not only that, he wanted to thank you your loyalty and the personal sacrifices you had both made to protect them and the Night Court, Azriel as his Spymaster and you as Prythian's best healer; that came in the form of a two-story town house on the outskirts of Velaris, far enough to have your own space, but still close enough so that you'd be available if you were needed.

The home was a perfect myriad of you both, deep blue armchairs and dark oaken floors, bookshelves packed full of Azriel's tomes and research with your own passion pieces littered between them. The kitchen was very much made for you, a large stove, hooks for all of your strangely carved mugs, a pantry to die for which you always strived to keep fully stocked. Cookbooks stood along the windowsill and a pair of weighing scales sat before them, ready to be thrown into another one of your culinary adventures.

You weren't sure sometimes if Azriel was more excited to be mated with you or eat the food you had offered him that night.

The bedroom was missing its other inhabitant, evident in the dim glow from a single flickering candle that made little to no movement as you entered, frowning and going about to reset the room, putting away the massage oils and peeling back the comforter to climb into its shivering embrace.

You weren't sure how much time had passed before you had heard him, scuffing his feet along the floor of the lounge and stopping, no doubt peering about at the effort you had made for date night, and you heard him sigh before his feet hit the steps heavily.

His scent had always flooded you, but you weren't a happy mate in that moment as you curled onto your side with your back facing the door. A cold breeze drifted in from the world he had brought into your home with him, "Angel..." his voice was quiet, pained, you could tell he was feeling guilty.

"It's three in the morning," you grumbled, staring out at the crescent moon beyond the paned window, your fingers brushing through the unbound hair that had fallen over your neck.

Then it hit you, the all to familiar metallic smell that you had become so accustomed to, so accustomed to that you hardly ever realised it was near unless there was copious amounts of it. Sniffing deeply, you rolled onto your back and propped yourself up on your elbows, examining your mate who was stood in the doorway with his head hung low.

From where you lay, you could see the blood glistening in the moonlight as his hand lay stuck to the doorknob. Shallow breaths passed through his lips and he winced at each one, then he tilted his head back and you saw him, and you gasped. His bottom lip was busted, blood leaked from it as it did from the cut to his brow, his hair was tussled and matted, his eyes were dark and dreary.

"If even half of that blood is yours you need to sit down right now," you threw the covers off of you and moved toward him, taking his face in your hands and looking into his eyes.

Azriel winced with every step he took toward the edge of your bed, usually you'd tell him off for mucking up the sheets, but you didn't say another word as you flitted about the room and gathered your usual supplied from the bathroom before settling onto your knees in front of him.

He knew that you were internally cursing him for getting himself into that state, you had told him endlessly to be careful, to listen to his shadows and leave if things seemed more sinister than usual. This particular mission had not been one that you had agreed with at all, but you had little say in the details of his career, he knew what he was doing and you usually trusted that.

It had only been a few days prior that you had told him that he needed to slow down, that you knew he wanted to do all he could to protect you and his home, that you couldn't think about bearing his child until he did. The thought of being a single mother terrified you, you had been very truthful about it, how you were so afraid that one day he might now return to you and you wouldn't be able to care for another life let alone your own.

Azriel hissed as you dabbed a cotton pad of alcohol to his bottom lip, doing your best to be gentle with him. You had muttered a small sorry, but when he surveyed your face, he saw unfiltered fear in your eyes, and he knew you were thinking about the worst case scenario.

You knew better than to ask for details, he wasn't the most open of males, but he was trying to be, for you. He had told you some details of the mission and you had expressed your ill feeling toward it, you had told him it felt too dangerous.

Your mate happily accepted the tonic you had given him to keep the pain at bay whilst you worked, pressing your fingers to his cuts and bruises and allowing your healing glow to fix him. You were from the Dawn Court, you were Thesan's most gifted healer, and you had healed Azriel when he crashed into your court after being hit by an ash arrow by some grounded assassins, from that moment there was no place he would allow you to be than right beside him.

"I didn't feel you," you muttered with a strained voice, clearly trying to hold back your tears, you had seen your mate in some terrible ways, but this had to be one of the worst.

"Fae bane," he hummed in discomfort when you moved your palms to the entrance wound of a knife no doubt, closing your eyes and allowing your power to float into him, your essence entangling itself with his own and mending every broken tendril of shadow, "You were right, I shouldn't have gone. Nothing about it felt right and I didn't listen to you."

"I don't like saying I told you so, but-"

"The hell you don't, it's your favourite phrase," it was no time to laugh but you smirked at his quip, one that he mirrored, and you knew then that he was going to be absolutely fine.

Azriel's face was clean from the cuts and bruises, and he looked physically relieved as he rolled his shoulders and his shadows came out to say hello, slithering up your arms and kissing your cheeks in thanks. His fingers grasped the backs of your thighs as you did a final check over, his touch sending lightening spreading through your body, and he pressed his lips along your collarbone, humming as he drank in your scent and felt peace consume him.

"I'm sorry for missing tonight, I'll make it up to you I promise," he mumbled against your skin, "You have me all week. I'm going to tell Rhys that I'm going to take it easier from now on. I want to focus on us, on you."

Hazel pools of serene bliss flowed into you and you kissed him, softly just in case he winced, a ghosting things that left him needed more, "You know how you could make it up to me right now?"

Azriel's eyes darkened with desire, pulling you closer, you placed your hands on his chest and pushed him back a few inches, smirking at his confusion, "You can take a shower, you stink and you're covered in blood," Azriel's face fell and you laughed, a pure and playful thing as you peered to where he was sat, "I'll change the sheets whilst you do. I cannot sleep with blood on the sheets, especially when I'm not sure if it's even yours."

Your mate rolled his eyes and stood, swaying over to the bathroom whilst peeling his leathers from his body, he lingered in the doorway and gazed back at you still kneeling at the foot of the bed, smirking, he drawled "It's not."

When he had returned, free from blood and smelling of his usual cedar musk, he climbed into the freshly made bed and pulled you close to his chest, inhaling the coconut from your shampoo as he buried his face into the crook of your neck.

"Does this mean I get to put a baby in you now?" Azriel's eyes drifted closed, willing a certain dream to infiltrate his consciousness as sleep began to consumed him, dragging him down into its embrace as you soothed out any tension in his body as you allowed your hands to trickle down his arms and over his chest. Sleepily and with a dragging tone that told you he was moments away from slipping into another world entirely, he spoke softly, "It's my favourite dream."

[rztaros]

: healing bonds

synopsis. tending to her wounds pairing. clarisse la rue x fem!r genre. fluff wc. 1k+ now playing. bewitched by laufey . . . 💿 notes. 💬 lowercase intended + sorta flirty clarisse

the night hung heavy with silence, and the dim glow of the lamp besides you casted a warm light across the room. seated comfortably in your bed, you'd cradle a book in your hands, finding solace within it.

you'd soon be interrupted by consecutive taps against your window. sitting up groggily, you'd draw open the curtains. as you squinted, you saw none other than clarisse, your girlfriend, aiming to throw another rock at your window just to draw your attention to her.

when she finally noticed she got your attention, she'd stand with a shit-eating grin, dropping all the remaining pebbles in her hand.

"about time!" clarisse exclaimed dramatically, acting as if she had something urgent to announce.

you tried to suppress a smile at her mannerisms, cracking the window all the way up while also trying to stay as quiet as you possibly could to not wake any of your siblings up.

as you helped clarisse up, you couldn't help but notice the gash on her arm and tiny cuts scattered around her hands. clarisse sat down on your bed, the rebellious spark in her eyes still lingering. you'd sit down besides her, your gaze flickering to her arms, hands, and face, taking in all the cuts she had.

"sooo… what are you doing here?" you muttered as concern washed over your face.

"i just missed my girlfriend, sue me," she responded sarcastically, throwing you a familiar smirk. you rolled your eyes before bringing your hands to her arm and hands, your fingers brushing over her gash and cuts softly.

you sighed, your lips twisting into a frown. suddenly getting up and turning to the counter, you gathered ointment cream, a small cloth, a bottle of peroxide, a roll of bandage wraps, and scissors.

drenching the cloth with peroxide, you'd swing back around to face clarisse. your fingers dab the now drenched cloth over the freshly stitched gash on clarisse's arm. clarisse would wince at the sharp, lingering stings each time the dab met her arm.

as soon as you finished applying the peroxide, you'd apply ointment on her cuts. you'd be sure to be gentle and deliberate while tending to clarisse's cuts.

while trying to lighten the mood, clarisse would blurt out, "you look beautiful tonight."

the compliment rolled off clarisse's tongue, the girl watching you intently apply ointment to her cuts.

usually, you would be flustered at her compliments, often burying your head into the back of her neck, as your mind recalls it over and over again. however, tonight was an exception to that condition as you'd only sigh in response.

"just… stay still, clar." you'd exhale. your hand cupped her cheek while the other was tending to the cuts that stained her face. with the dab of ointment cream on your fingertip, you applied it on her face.

tracing her features under the dim lighting of your lamp, it'd seem almost as if you were mapping out constellations beneath her skin. except, rather than constellations, they were cuts littered across her face in hues of red.

even just the thought of clarisse being hurt pulled your heart-strings into a knot that can't seem to be untied.

as you were lost in your thoughts while you rubbed ointment over clarisse's face, clarisse would notice, "are you okay?"

you'd look up at clarisse incredulously, and by then, you'd realize the close proximity between the two of you. you felt her breath fanned against your cheek, making you lean away for a moment, "i should be asking you that, y'know."

clarisse's chuckle filled the room, and for the first time tonight, the atmosphere felt lighter, just by the sound of her laughter. it'd feel as if a weight shifted off your chest, and the only thing the world revolved around were you and clarisse.

"i guess you're right, y/n," clarisse would mutter, a soft smile laid on the corners of her lips.

you'd nod, continuing to apply the cream, "tell me if anythin' hurts, alright?" with a tender touch, you'd move a strand of clarisse's hair that had fallen across her face, making sure to treat each inch of the girl's wounds.

once you finished applying the ointment, you'd go to bandage clarisse's arm. you'd start to wrap from her bicep to her forearm, securing the end using a few pins. just as you finished bandaging her up, you'd see a bit of blood through the topmost layers, but the blood doesn't seep through.

you pulled away from clarisse to inspect her face for any more wounds, unaware of the effect you had on her. there was something about you that made her feel as if you guys were destined to be each other, that everything falls into place.

perhaps it was your way with words and the sincerity laced in them—or maybe it was the way you were always concerned for the girl and cared for her deeply. or maybe how even just her calling out your name would lead to you by her side immediately.

her heart swelled even at the mention of you.

it reminded her of the the ongoing list of reasons why she loved you in the first place, and of course, she could never get tired of loving you.

she'd take your wrist in her hold, never wavering once when she pulled you closer to herself. her lips would crash against your own, noses bumped occasionally, eyes closed, and brows furrowed. as you two pulled away, the sound of heavy breathing would be the only thing you could hear in the room.

the once unbearable silence and tension between you two now shifted to a particular warmth. a shared vulnerability lingered in the air.

"fuck…" you'd mumble, trailing off and continuing, "i have to redo the ointment all over again, clar!" you'd grumble, though the both of you knew you weren't really complaining. how could you complain when she held you with tenderness and vulnerability like no other?

"c'mon, just save the ointment for later," a mischievous gleam in clarisse's eyes as she'd grin ever so widely.

clarisse reached out, intertwining her fingers with yours for a fleeting moment. the connection lingered in the air, a silent acknowledgment of you two's infatuation for each other.

there are a thousand things waiting to be conveyed, a thousand things she needs to confess to you.

and maybe, once wasn't enough. her voice, barely above a whisper,

"let me kiss you again."

every damn second you're with me

i try to think straight

but i'm falling so badly, i'm falling apart

[celiastjamesoscar]

Clean

Pairings: Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Summary: when Natasha comes back hurt from a mission, she lets you clean her wounds.

Warnings: fluff, light cussing, mentions of sex, jokes about kidnapping, reader being a menace

My Masterlist

Word Count: 3.6K

AN: this is probably the softest fic I have ever written 💀

The sound of soft footsteps echoed throughout the compound as Natasha made her way into the kitchen. She quietly opened a cabinet and grabbed a bowl along with the box of Raisin Bran. She set the bowl down on the island before moving to the fridge and grabbing some milk, and then she made herself a bowl of cereal.

Today had been one of the rougher missions she's been on; it was supposed to be a simple bag and grab, but Hydra agents had gotten the drop on them, and she came back battered and bruised. Along with the bruises, Natasha had minor cuts littering her body, and a small jolt of pain ran through her body every time she moved.

You had warned Natasha not to go on the mission; it sounded too easy. And now, as she sat on the couch and rewatched her comfort episodes of New Girl, she wished that she had listened to you. You were always the wiser one in the relationship, and Natasha sometimes hated that about you. You would always try and talk her out of doing risky missions and she rarely listened to you. She was scared to face your wrath, so she wasted as much time as possible before entering your shared bedroom.

You had joined the Avengers as a surgeon; you were one of the country's best and met Natasha during one of her missions. She was undercover at a bar in Italy when she saw you.

It was a rowdy Friday night, and Natasha’s target was at the same bar. You had accidentally bumped into her, causing her to ruin her dress, and naturally, she was bitchy with you for it. You ushered out a plethora of apologies; you told her that you were only here because your friend had dragged you here but then left once she found someone to hook up with, causing you to be stressed, and that’s why you accidentally ran into her.

You bought her a drink as an apology, and she gladly accepted it. You wanted to talk to her, but she told you she had some business to take care of once she saw her target leave the building.

“See you in a minute, yeah?” She asked once she finished her drink and placed her hand on your arm, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Of course,” you replied, smiling as you watched the redhead leave the bar. Natasha was a willow, and she bent right to your wind, begging you to take her hand and meet her after dark.

Naturally, you didn’t see the woman again, and you felt ashamed for getting your hopes up. Eventually, you saw Natasha again in the same bar, and this time, she bought you a drink. The two of you conversed back and forth about your lives, even though you suspected she wasn’t telling you the whole truth about her job.

“I do background checks at the Smithsonian Museum in Washington,” Natasha said as she sipped her drink. You lightly laughed at her words but didn’t pry; you knew she was lying because her forest-green eyes refused to meet yours for over three seconds. You told her that you were a surgeon at one of the hospitals in New York City, and when she asked what specialty you are, you told her trauma.

The pair talked into the hours of the night, and when it came time to leave, Natasha asked you for your number, and you happily gave it to her. You spent one more week with Natasha before you returned to New York, and it was the best week of your life. You went on lunch dates with her every day she was free, and you quickly bonded with the woman.

When it came time for you to leave, you kissed Natasha’s cheek as you stood outside her apartment with a bouquet of lavender and violets. “I’m heading back to New York at 3 today, and I just wanted to say goodbye before I left,” you said with a smile, but your eyes had pain in them as you handed Natasha her flowers. She smiled at them and welcomed you into her apartment while she put them in flowers. The apartment was bare of any photos except a few that you could tell were of a fake family near the fireplace in the living room.

Take-out containers were in the trash can, while the fridge had a scarce amount of food in it. You weren’t naïve; all the signs you had picked up on that Natasha was a spy. You had dipped your toes in this line of work before; you had worked with Interpol for a year and a half before switching to medicine, so you knew all the signs.

When Natasha returned after putting the flowers in a vase, she invited you to watch a movie with her until your flight, and you gladly accepted it. When the clock hit one, you pulled your head up from Natasha’s lap and grabbed your things. “See you in a minute, Natasha,” you said as you kissed her cheek again and disappeared down the hallway.

Naturally, when Natasha returned to the States, she ran your name across all kinds of databases, and eventually, she found you. She read your file a dozen times: graduated high school as the valedictorian with enough college credit to be an incoming sophomore, finished a year early in criminal Justice, and soon worked with Interpol as a spy. You spent 18 months with Interpol before an injury threw you out, and that’s when you switched to medicine.

Just like high school, you graduated at the top of your class and got an internship at one of the best prestigious hospitals in the country. You’ve been there for roughly a year now, but you were one of the best residents there.

You weren’t even back home for three weeks when an agent from SHIELD asked you if you would like a job offer at Stark Tower. At first, you were a bit shocked at the offer, but when you entered the first floor of the Stark Building, and you saw your redhead, you knew it was her doing.

“It’s nice to see you again,” Natasha said with a sly grin as she led you through the luxurious building and toward a room with ‘T. Stark’ on the name mantle beside the door. You give her a questioning look before entering the room. “Good luck,” Natasha said gently before leaving you alone with the genius, billionaire, playboy, and philanthropist.

The interview went well, aside from the fact that Tony kept hitting on you, and you were offered the job of a head surgeon. The salary was definitely an increase, and it had much better benefits than your old job, plus, you would get to see Natasha a lot more, so of course you took the offer.

One week into your new job and Natasha asked you on a date. It was nothing fancy; a picnic date on the top of Stark Tower, but you would be lying if it weren’t the best date you’d ever been on. You two talked and drank a bottle of Dom Perignon deep into the night, and when it was time to go your separate ways, Natasha pulled you into a soft and gentle kiss. It’s been eight months since Natasha started calling you hers, and she’s never been happier.

However, as she recalls all the happy memories since the start of your beautiful and gentle relationship, she gets called back into reality when she hears soft footsteps echo off the walls. She held her breath and prepared for the scolding that she would inevitably receive, but to her surprise, it was Wanda up looking for a light night snack. “Trouble in paradise?” Wanda asked as she grabbed her own stash of pop-tarts; no one dared to mess with Thor’s.

Natasha sighed at Wanda’s words; the poor girl was on the same mission as her, and Wanda knew how badly Natasha was banged up. “No, I just know that Y/N is going to have my head when she sees how bad it is,” Natasha said with a defeated sigh as Wanda walked over to her.

The Sokovian placed her hand on Natasha’s shoulder and gently squeezed it, “I wish you the best of luck with your lady; may your survival be long,” Wanda joked as she walked off.

“May your death be quick,” Natasha mumbled under her breath once Wanda left the room. She finished up her cereal and cleaned the bowl and spoon before she tipped-toed to your shared bedroom. The Russian quietly opened the door and gently climbed into bed, wrapping her arms around your waist and pulling you into her. You sighed at the contact before subconsciously nudging your head into your girlfriend’s neck.

“Where were you?” You mumbled into the crook of Natasha’s neck before kissing her clothed collarbone. “I had an amazing day, love. I’m so glad you asked,” Natasha joked as she pulled you closer and kissed the top of your head.

You groaned at Natasha’s words before nudging your head against the redhead’s chest. “Life360 said you got home an hour ago, Nat. So where were you?” You asked as sleep left your body. Natasha knew that this conversation could go one of two ways: she could be honest with you and have you scold her, or she could lie and have you not find out until training in the morning and then have you scold her. “I'm cheating on you,” Natasha lied.

“Seriously, Natasha? I'm not going to fall for that,” you stated. The last time she had pulled that was when she snuck out at midnight to watch Barbie with Clint. When she told you she was cheating on you, you went ballistic; you were on the verge of throwing her off a cliff until you saw a pink box in her purse backpack.

“Natasha, what’s this?” You had asked as you made your way over toward her bag. She tried to stop you, but you were too quick, and you pulled out a Barbie doll from its box. “Did you go watch Barbie without me?”

“Y/N, I love you so much, but this was the only time Clint could go with me. You are so beautiful,” Natasha said while making her way over to you. “I bought you the Barbie and car the theater was selling.”

You scoffed at Natasha’s words before setting the Barbie down on your dresser along with the car. “I want to wrap my hands around your neck and not let go, but I’m going to let it slide: on one condition,” you stated as you walked back to Natasha and stopped before her.

“Yes, anything.”

“I get to be on bottom for a week, no questions asked.”

“Deal.”

See, Natasha was one of those people who will lie only when the truth sounds like a lie, and you quickly found that out after that incident.

Pulling back from the memory, Natasha wrapped her arms around you tighter and whispered, “Promise me you won’t get mad?”

“Depends on what it is,” you replied. Natasha took a deep breath and kissed your head once and then twice before speaking, “The mission went a little south today, but I’m okay.”

At the mention of the mission going wrong, you pushed yourself up and the bed and turned on the lamp next to the bed. “What happened, Natasha? Are you alright? I swear to god if someone hurt you,” you trailed off at the end at the thought of losing your lover. “I’m fine, detka. Don’t worry,” Natasha replied as she gently grabbed your hands at the hems of her shirt.

“Natasha,” you warned as your eyes pierced the other soul; she knew you could be intense, especially regarding her safety and well-being. The Russian groaned at your words before allowing you to take her shirt off, and her heart broke at the small gasp that left your lips.

“I told you it’s not bad,” Natasha joked as you pulled her into the bathroom and flipped on the lights. You motioned for her to sit on the sink while you looked through the cabinets for a first aid kit. Now that you were in better lighting, you could see all the cuts and bruises that littered your other half’s body. There was hardly enough skin that wasn't either turning a dark purple or that didn’t have a cut on it; you didn’t know whether to scold her for being so reckless or to cherish her for still being here with you.

Deciding to go with both, you gently cupped Natasha’s cheeks and pulled her into a loving kiss expressing all your love for her. She kissed you back as she wrapped her arms around your waist and slid off the sink. “I love you,” Natasha murmured against your lips as her breath fanned your lips. You kissed the words and pulled back, “I love you too, but I cannot believe you got this hurt and didn’t tell me about it! Now, get back on the sink so I can take care of you,” you said as you opened the first aid kit.

You grabbed some peroxide and put it on a cotton ball before gently pressing it against a cut on Natasha’s lower abdomen. Natasha hissed at the sting and gripped the sink’s edge as she groaned. “I told you to be careful,” you remarked as you set the cotton ball down and put some Neosporin on a bandit. “Yeah, yeah,” Natasha mumbled.

“Tell you what, for every cut I clean up, you get a kiss?” You proposed as you gently placed the bandit on Natasha’s cut. The redhead smiled at this proposition and tried to pull you into another kiss, but you put a finger to her lips, stopping her advances, “Nuh-uh, you’ve already gotten yours for this cut.”

The woman threw her hand back and groaned at your words, “Why do you hate me?” She exclaimed. You scoffed at her words as you grabbed another cotton ball and put peroxide on it, “I don’t hate you; I’m just not letting you bend the rules,” you said with a playful smile as you ignored how Natasha mumbled something under her breath.

When you placed the cotton ball on a cut near Natasha’s collarbone, applying more pressure than needed, she hissed and pushed you away from her, “Ow! What the fuck was that?!”

You rolled your eyes at Natasha’s comment before grabbing her shoulder with your left hand to keep her in place as you pressed the ball back onto her skin. “Stop being a baby, Nat, and let me clean your wounds,” you replied with a slight chuckle, causing Natasha to smack your arm. “Hey! Do not hit me, you little shit!”

“Don’t call me a baby, then!” Natasha retorted, refusing to let you clean her wounds again. You scoffed at her words and put the first aid kit back in the cabinet, and walked off to bed, “Fine, then. If you aren’t going to let me take care of you, I guess you just have to have Doctor Lee take care of you.”

Natasha froze at the mention of Doctor Lee. She’s only been to him once since you started working here, and she hated every second of it. You had the day off and were having dinner with a friend when you got a call from Natasha.

“Excuse me for a second,” you said to your friend while exiting the dining table. “What’s up, my love?” You asked when you stepped outside the restaurant and answered the phone. You had expected Natasha to ask if you would pick her up some food or maybe even ask if she could top tonight, but you didn’t expect her to scream in Russian about Doctor Lee. You had picked up a little Russian just from being around Natasha, so you knew the basic of what had happened: she had gotten a small cut on a mission that required stitches, and Lee made the cut worse, so Natasha had to get more stitches than needed and Lee complained about how rude Natasha was to her face.

Doctor Lee was a grumpy older man but was the best doctor you had ever worked with, so everyone put up with his attitude. You listened to Natasha rant about him for another five minutes before you interrupted her, “Natasha, I love you so much, but I’m going to need to get back to Kate before she thinks I left her,” you said with a small laugh when you heard Natasha groan. “Fine, let’s just hope I don’t bleed out all over our floor, and you have to clean it up,” she replied in an upset tone.

You rolled your eyes at her comment as you walked back into the restaurant, “you will be fine until I get back. If it’s that bad, I’m sure Lee can help you again.”

“He’s the one who got me into this mess!” Natasha yelled into the phone.

“Ah, so it must have been him who stabbed you then?”

The phone was silent for a few seconds before Natasha replied, “Yes.”

“Oh my god, you leave that poor man alone! He’s brilliant,” you said as you sat down at your table and across from Kate, who sent you a knowing smile. She was friends with Natasha’s sister, and she knew that the sisters shared a similar trait of exaggerating things.

“Just because he’s smart doesn’t mean he’s a good person,” Natasha retorted.

“I guess you’re right. I’ll talk to you when I get home, okay? I love you.”

“That’s if I don’t bleed out and die,” Natasha mumbled into the phone before adding with excitement, “I love you too,” before hanging up.

Natasha shook off the painful memory when she heard you get into bed and shut off the lamp. “Hey, Y/N. Wait,” Natasha said as she walked into the bedroom and sat beside you, touching your hip. “Please don’t make me go to Lee.”

You rolled over and faced Natasha, your face heating up as her hand was now on your lower abdomen, and you had to fight back your thoughts. “Are you going to complain?” You questioned. Natasha shook her head and prayed that you would finish cleaning her wounds; she would rather die than return to Lee. “Okay,” you said as you moved from the bed and walked back into the bathroom with Natasha on your heels.

“Do I still get kisses for every cut cleaned?” Natasha asked as she sat on the sink. “Maybe, if you behave,” you replied with a playful smirk as you got out the first aid kit again.

You repeated the same actions with the cotton ball as you did moments earlier and lightly pressed it onto a small cut on Natasha’s shoulder. “Do you remember when we first met?” Natasha asked randomly as you placed a bandaid on her cut. “Mhm,” you replied as you quickly kissed the Russian’s lips, holding up to your end of the deal, “the bar in Italy.”

“Yeah, but do you remember when we met again in the bar?”

You weren’t quite sure where Natasha was going with this, but you wanted to play along. “Of course. Why do you ask?”

The redhead hissed when she felt the sting of peroxide seep into her cut as you pressed the cotton against her skin. You noticed how her eyes looked everywhere but you and how she played with her fingers in her lap; she was nervous about something, and you had no idea why. “I went to that bar every single night after I first saw you,” Natasha admitted after you placed another bandaid on her.

You laughed at her words and her nervousness. “Natasha, you literally stalked me and basically kidnapped me after knowing me for a week! Why are you so nervous to admit you also stalked the bar looking for me?”

“I did not stalk you!” Natasha defended, “I just missed you so much; I searched everywhere for you and didn’t stop until I found you. And I didn’t kidnap you. You were 24 years old!”

“Mhm, if you say so, you can still kidnap an adult,” you replied as you threw away the ball and kissed Natasha again, “that looks like all the serious ones.”

Natasha frowned at your comment; she didn’t enjoy you cleaning the cuts, but she wanted the reward of your kisses. “No, I think I have some more on my back,” your girlfriend replied.

You pulled her off the sink by her hands and turned her around; there were tiny cuts over her back and some light bruises, but nothing that needed cleaning. You pressed your pointer finger into a bruise that was turning purple, “nope, looks good.”

The pain that shot through Natasha’s back when you dug your finger into her bruise was something she would never forget; she would be on her deathbed and still remember that feeling. She ducked away from your finger and turned around, “What the fuck is wrong with you?! That hurt!”

“That’s what you get for ‘adultnapping’ me,” you replied as you put up the first aid kit and left the bathroom. The older woman was right on your heels after turning off the lights, “Don’t act like it wasn’t the best crime ever.”

The sound of laughter bounced around the room as you climbed into bed and opened your arms for Natasha, and she quickly crawled into your grasp, laying her head on your chest. “We were jet-set; Bonnie and Clyde, huh?” You replied and placed a kiss on Natasha's head. “Mhm. I’m just glad you didn’t turn me in for the crime,” Natasha mumbled against your collarbone as sleep slowly took her.

“Of course not, my love,” you replied as you kissed Natasha’s head and rubbed her back as sleep consumed you; slowly drifting off with the love of your life in your arms.

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

AN: I rushed this and I kinda hate it but oh well 💀

[merakiui]

while in captivity, floyd encounters a human and unintentionally pair-bonds with you during a moment of biological vulnerability.

(cw: gender neutral reader, nsfw, omegaverse/abo, heats, captivity)

The marine lab has recently acquired a unique specimen—unique in that he is half-human and half-fish, hailing from deep, dark, indescribable depths. An eel merman, to be exact. You’ve only ever glimpsed merfolk in outdated textbooks and fairytales, the latter of which depicted them as whimsical beings capable of feats beyond scientific understanding. Magic. Although in the realm of biology, such folly is never entertained and so what the world calls ‘magic’ other fields built upon the foundations of research refer to it as a ‘miracle’. In your eyes those words are interchangeable, but then the idea of a miracle is far easier to digest than the concept of magic.

Merfolk have always been elusive, covert creatures, hence why there is hardly any conclusive data on them. In fact, they’re so secretive that they were believed to be mostly extinct—a figment of dreams and hallucinations. Most of what humans know stems from the tattered notes of long-gone sailors, their presences nearly lost to time itself, and for a while all anyone ever knew were four key details:

They are spread throughout the sea, living out their lives in frigid fathoms. 

They are hypnotic and deceptive. 

They are predatory. 

They rarely interact with humankind unless absolutely necessary (e.g. to hunt or observe).

But with plenty of promising technological advances, some of the theories and myths surrounding merfolk have been bolstered or disproved, respectively. Merfolk are just as diverse as the rest of the animal kingdom. Some live in solitude. Others thrive in groups. Some make their home out of caves and grottos. Some dwell within the labyrinths of volcanic rock formations. It is every marine biologist’s dream to come face to face with one of these mysterious creatures, if only for just a few minutes to glean more information.

That dream is made reality today.

The eel mer was discovered off the coast of a tiny island, entangled in fishing lines and plastic litter. His large, winding body, snake-like in its sleek build, was littered with scars and scrapes. There was a hook lodged up in the folds of his gills. Despite his thrashing, his tail swishing wildly in the sand and nearly knocking down three researchers like they were bowling pins, he was wheezing and gasping, drained of energy and air. When the first bucket of seawater came down upon his dry gills, he settled briefly, wide, crazed, mismatched eyes flicking from face to face. Likely assessing the situation or counting the amount of bodies, the report claimed.

He fell still after that, and it took two teams of ten people to load him onto the lift so he could be flown to the lab.

After he spent a week in recovery, where he healed surprisingly fast, he was transferred to a much larger and wider tank, its depths far deeper than the average swimming pool. He doesn’t swim to the surface much, and he only ever pokes his head out at night, scanning his surroundings with intelligent, keen eyes. And then he turns and disappears below. It’s a pattern he’s stuck to for weeks now. No one really understands it, and they haven’t had the opportunity to try. He’s uncooperative and unpredictable. It’s much too dangerous to send a diver down there.

So they transfer you to his enclosure, assuming you might have more luck. You’re not sure and you can’t make any promises of potential success, as you’ve only ever interacted with marine mammals. A merman is…different. Not only because he’s half-man and, by that same logic, likely possesses a human brain that is capable of a higher level of thought, albeit one that is wired to suit his mer biology, but because he’s bigger. A lot bigger.

He could kill you.

You saw the documentation. The serrated teeth, the powerful claws, the dangerous jaw, the bulky, muscular build that cuts through water like a bullet. He is a predator in every sense of the word, and you’re supposed to look after him. Coax him to the surface. Get him to trust humans. Interact with him just inches from the edge of his tank and hope that he doesn’t get hungry or violent.

He might kill you.

But there are safety measures put in place for these things. Ethics to be followed and whatnot. It’s a slippery slope because he’s part human and therefore could possibly have the same level of intelligence humans have, in which case it would be wrong to trap him here. There may be ways to skirt around it with other animals, but he’s not like other animals.

For now, he’s kept here under the pretense of recovery and scientific study. The lab treats him like the big fish he is, going so far as to buy a shark suit in your size and instruct you to wear it even though you’re not going to get in the water. “It should prevent him from biting through,” they had said, “but it won’t lessen the force of his bite.”

“What good will that do? I can’t fight him off.” Though you knew it had nothing to do with anything, you added, “I’m an omega. Merfolk might not have the same sub-genders as we do up on the surface—or maybe they do; I don’t know—but if he were human he’d definitely classify as an alpha. Put that into perspective. I can’t. Fight. Him. Off. It’s biologically impossible.”

“So you poke his eyes. Dig your fingers into his gills. He should let go of you then.”

“That’ll hurt him,” you protested, clutching the suit to your chest.

“Not as much as he’ll hurt you.”

You suppose it’s a clinical priority. Survival of the fittest, but it’s the human who has to live. The lab could afford to lose you, but they don't want to. And if they did, they might put the mer down. Shoot him up with enough tranquilizers to keep him comatose. Maybe it only bothered you because, yet again, he’s half-human and no one on the team knows the extent to which he thinks and functions.

To simplify it, they consider him a shark. But like any creature, sharks learn and adapt as they go. Death is instinct.

He will kill you.

But you don’t want to think like that, which is why you put on your best smile and trudge into the enclosure he’s being kept in. The tank looms before you, seawater clear and beamed through with streaks of light from the harsh, glaring LEDs above. The deeper the water gets, the darker the shadows. You press your palm against the glass, observing the murky darkness with a frown. Somewhere in this tank, at a depth you can’t even imagine, is an eel merman. A big, strong, powerful, scary eel merman.

You swallow a steadying breath, curl your fingers into fists, and climb the spiral staircase to get to the attached platform. Your reflection follows you with each step, countenance set in grim confliction. Once you reach the top, you peer out at the surface of the pool, listening to the droning hum of water filters and other hidden machinery. There’s a very shallow part of the tank, a dip in the design that allows for the mer to lounge if he so pleases. You’re reminded of the dolphins in live shows, who slide up onto their stomachs to face an awestruck audience. You doubt that’s what he’ll use this ledge for. If anything, it could allow a researcher to kneel in the shallows while they interact with him at an intimate propinquity.

You don’t plan on being that researcher.

Instead, you pace a healthy distance away from the edge, holding a bucket of his breakfast in one hand and a notebook in the other.

“Um!” You cringe at your voice as it reverberates around you in a nervous echo. Cautiously, you inch towards the water. “I have your food!”

You wait three seconds, expecting him to come bursting up from the darkness like the shark everyone wants to delude themselves into thinking he is. The water remains still and unbroken. You wonder if your voice can even reach such a depth. If not the sound, the vibrations might. Or maybe he’s resting. It’s still relatively early in the morning. Perhaps his sleep schedule is thrown off. Yours would be if you were taken from your home and dumped in a manufactured version of your habitat.

You lurch forwards with the bucket and watch as a collection of shrimp, crab, and small fish soar through the air in a sloppy arc before landing and sinking into the waiting depths below. Nothing happens. The tension in your body ebbs away, and when it becomes clear that he isn’t coming up to greet you and feast on your offering you relax completely, collapsing against the wall with a great sigh.

If they really want to study him, they should just watch him on the security feed, you think, peering up at the camera in one corner of the room, its red eye fixated on you and the surrounding enclosure. He’s not going to come up during the day. Not when there are humans walking around.

Still, you wait your shift out, scribbling nonsense in your notebook and occasionally glancing up to gauge the state of the water.

The mer doesn’t show, so you resolve to try again.

Try you do, and try you have. 

It’s been one week of perfunctory routine, arriving and feeding him at the same time in hopes that he might understand what you’re doing and come up to investigate. Or, at the very least, recognize you’re a recurring figure in his chapter of captivity. You don’t intend on befriending him. You only wish to fulfill your duties as a researcher, however skewed they may have become. Even though you know you ought to be grateful the mer hasn’t caused any problems, you want something to happen. Anything! At this rate, you’d sooner tire yourself out playing with rowdy sea lions than sit around in silence while waiting for an appearance from him.

It’s a quiet Tuesday afternoon when the first beat of unrest hits.

The mer’s enclosure is kept at a comfortable temperature for humans; it’s the water that’s freezing below the surface. So when you step up onto the platform and peer into the chum-infested deep, the empty bucket now set aside, you feel warmer than usual. Odd, considering the room is normally so chilly. Not extremely so, but chilly enough to give way to a pleasant cold.

Tugging at the collar of your shark suit, you cover the distance to stand under a large fan situated just near the dip in the pool. Cool air kisses your heated skin, providing you with much-needed relief, and you peer up at the propellers that spin in endless circles. Around and around and around. Your eyes follow the motions until you dizzy yourself, and you step back on wobbly legs. Your foot misses the metal platform and instead slips into the ledge built in the tank. With a startled yelp you fall backwards, landing in the shallows on your rear.

“Of course,” you mumble, bitter with embarrassment. “Leave it to me to fall right into the predator’s tank.”

You scoot further up onto the ledge, staring at the water below. It’s quite calm here, where the shallows lap languidly at your waist. If you were delusional, you might think this was a jacuzzi pool that you could dip your toes in. It’s not. Of course it isn’t. Not when there’s a beast lurking just below. But while you’re here, you run your hands through the saltwater while your own body temperature rises as if it’s a hungry flame in a stone hearth.

You place your hands on either side of the ledge, intending to push yourself up and onto the platform, when something tightens inside of you. Your heart stumbles in your chest and you lose the strength in your arms at once. With a noisy splash, you flop back into the shallows, your compromised body rigid and shaky with a tingling, all-encompassing warmth. Horrified, you raise two fingers to your pulse to feel it stutter wildly beneath your skin.

Swallowing thickly, you lower your head onto your arms and wait for the feeling to pass. The seconds slip by and in that short amount of time your state seems to worsen. Your temperature is volcanic, your every sense restless, and you’re sweating through the shark suit as if you’ve just run a marathon and more.

“Not now,” you hiss, slapping your hands upon your face. “Please not now. Anything but now…”

You intend to haul yourself up and out for good this time, desperate to get as far from the pool before your brain is completely overrun by your encroaching heat and robust omega instincts, when fingers brush against your leg. Something chitters behind you, a low, slow sort of sound that is shot through with curiosity. You turn as if you’re frozen in ice, your heart in your throat and senses on high alert.

The eel mer is right there, clutching your ankle in a firm grip. Not to hurt you, but to keep you there. And you’re not at all in a hurry to leave. Not when those claws are so close to your calf, capable of shredding through to your very bones. Even with the shark suit, you worry. He stares at you with narrowed eyes, his head angled in a cute, childish way. He appears confused and rightfully so, considering you’re a creature he’s likely never interacted with so closely before. You mirror his befuddlement, your brows furrowed, lips creased in a thin line.

For a long while, the two of you watch each other. If you look past his predatory design, he’s quite pretty with his smoky teal coloration and dark stripes. Your gaze pans over to the water, where a long, powerful tail disappears below. The paranoid side of you says he’s going to drown you, but then he doesn’t seem outwardly malicious in his intentions.

“Um…”

He flinches at the sound of your voice, his head snapping up to your throat and then your lips. Your attempt to pull your captive leg back is thwarted when he lurches, rising out of the water to grab hold of your foot. You gasp and shake your head at him, your senses sharp and dull all at once. Your heat-addled mind just barely parses the threat of danger, looming and ever-present.

“Please,” you beg, your tone sticky and breathless. “Don’t…”

The mer tilts his head the other way. The fins where his ears might be if he were human shiver, as if listening to the desperation in your syllables. He chirrups, lips widening in a sharp-toothed smile, and then he’s dragging you towards him. Panic seizes your nerves and you dig your palms into the smooth basin in an effort to get away. His expression falls when he notices your struggle and he lifts himself onto the ledge with you, draping himself over your legs like an oversized rug.

“Wait… H-Hold on; get off!” You grunt and weakly prod at his chest. He doesn’t budge. “You… You’re heavy!”

His webbed hand closes around your waist, steadying you in the shallows, while his other arm cages you beneath him. Instinctively, you arch into his touch, your breath coming in tiny, frenzied huffs. He clicks at you, and words that you can only assume are meant to be gentle and soothing are produced in a sweet melody. It relaxes you more than you’d like to admit, a lyrical balm to your terror.

You squeeze your eyes shut and brace yourself for the worst. For the searing pain and the stinging agony. For the blood that will color the water a dark, foreboding red. For the sight of him merrily tearing into your jugular, his maw spattered with crimson. But none of that ever comes. He cradles your face next, his thumb running along your cheekbone, and slowly you peel your eyes open. His face is inches from yours, looking on with an intensity that’s almost primal.

Warily, you lift your arm out of the water and touch his hand. It’s much bigger in contrast to yours, but he’s handling you with such immaculate tenderness.

“You’re not going to hurt me…” you mutter, amazed. “You’re just curious.”

As if responding, he chitters. You nod even though you have no idea what he said. He doesn’t smell like an alpha or an omega or a beta. You’re not even sure if he’s capable of releasing pheromones, but if he were you’re certain it would have driven you much crazier than you already feel.

You hold his stare and reach up to pat his cheek, and he leans into your careful touch. Your hand soon trails down to trace his lateral lines, which earns you a pleased hum. You watch in awe as the gills on either side of his body flutter.

Led on by your own wonder, you follow the pattern to his waist and press your thumbs into his hip bones beneath smooth, slippery skin. “How fascinating… I wonder if it’s possible to take an X-ray. Would you allow—oh!”

Clumsily, he lifts you into his arms to embrace you, rolling his hips against the chainmail shark suit. Your breath hitches, and you fumble to grasp his broad shoulders.

“Ah, w-wait. I’m not… You can’t…”

He clicks thrice and lowers you into the shallows, his face scrunched in annoyance. You think he might’ve understood you, but then he’s palming between your legs and it occurs to you that he wants the suit off. Carnal delight shivers through you at the prospect of being wanted to such a degree, and though you know it’s the heat muddling your sensibility you can’t help indulging him just a little. You undo the zip at the back and slide it from your body, revealing your shoulders and bare arms for his wandering, mismatched hues. He leans in to nose at your scent glands, chattering happily as he inhales. You can’t understand a word, but he sounds pleased—even more so when he runs his hands along your arms, squeezing and petting in equal measure.

His tongue laves across your neck, and what fragile restraint you have left snaps. You cling to him like he’s your anchor, meeting his searching hips halfway with every awkward thrust that doesn’t quite connect as it should. You chew your lip, tamping down a torrent of filthy moans. Your mind is clouded with lust and instinct, and you dig your fingers into his hair, holding him against your neck while he continues to lick and nip.

It feels right up until the haze parts momentarily, allowing temporary sobriety when you spy the tip of something poking free of its encasing. Dazed and inquisitive, you reach between your bodies to prod at his slit, hoping to coax more of his prehensile cock from out of its folds. But then the door below opens and the mer lifts himself from off of you, his head turning in the direction of the sound at an alarming speed. You blink up at him, lazily following his line of sight. His lip curls up in a silent snarl, the beginnings of razored teeth peeking out, and then he slithers back into the water, his hands lingering on your ankles.

Despite the dizziness you sit up, your arm outstretched. “Wait, don’t go!”

I didn’t get to cum yet. You didn’t even claim me either…

He peers at you, neutral for all of a minute before swimming over to you. He presses his face into your palm, chittering softly. There are footsteps on the stairs, and he grits his teeth, withdrawing completely before turning and diving under in a spray of seawater.

You fall back into the shallows, panting like a starved, feral monster. A researcher comes to your aid, her expression equal parts shocked and disturbed. You don’t catch her questions, each one tacked onto what feels like a ceaseless rant, while she helps you to your feet. Something about danger. About heats. About omega biology. About how the researchers watched the both of you on the cameras, swelling with queries of their own.

“I’m not sure,” you mumble as you’re helped down the stairs, stumbling in a heat-drunken stupor. Thankfully, your fellow researcher is an omega like you and that relaxes the hypersensitive part of you—the part that fears being taken advantage of when you’re vulnerable like this. But the needier, greedier part of you wants the mer—wants his hands and mouth all over you, ripping you free from your suit and indulging in the bare skin beneath. “I think he...wanted to help…”

No one can explain his behavior. But it seems promising.

While you’re led from the room, the eel mer stalks you from the gloomy confines of his tank.

In the days following your heat, you return to the marine lab with your head on your shoulders and are immediately barraged with requests. Amongst all of them, one common demand stands out: You have to get him up to the surface again. Part of you doesn’t want to face the mer again. When you truly mulled over that day, tossed the memory of it around in your mind like it was a tennis ball, you were hit with shame.

It’s not…normal. Researchers do not tangle themselves in sexual situations with their subjects, especially when said subject was an eel mer from the Coral Sea. It’s unheard of. Luckily, the team of researchers you work with swears to secrecy. You were out of it and your judgment wasn’t in the best state. That’s the excuse they’re using. It works enough to push the humiliation from your thoughts.

You wonder if you should feel disgusted by the events. Rather, you didn’t mind it. For all of his rough, scarred, monstrous edges, he was gentle.

You press your fingers to your scent glands, recalling the feel of his tongue.

Today you’ve donned your usual work attire, foregoing the shark suit and any other protective gear the lab expects you to wear. Something tells you you won’t need it anymore. Not after everything that happened the day you went into heat.

Feeling rejuvenated and refreshed after your mini break, you trudge up the staircase with a food bucket, determined to finally fill your notebook with data. You’ve only made it up four steps when color flashes in your peripheral. You turn and find the mer is at your eye level, following you up the spiral staircase adjacent to his tank.

You pause and wave experimentally. He watches your hand move to and fro and then he mirrors your actions. He swims the rest of the distance to the surface, breaching it just as you make it onto the platform.

“Good morning, Mister,” you greet, bending down to empty the contents of the bucket into the water.

Disinterested, he watches bits of shrimp sink deeper. And then he looks back to you, his mouth opening and shutting. “Fu… Fu…” he forces out, his face scrunched in concentration.

“Fu…? Food?” 

He nods and then shakes his head, hissing at himself in what you think might be admonishment. 

“Fu…ro…”

“Furo?” You set the bucket aside and scoot closer to the edge. “What’s that?”

He tries once more before the syllables fizzle out on his tongue and, with a few frustrated clicks, he swipes a fish from the surface and stuffs it in his mouth. You giggle, and the sound has him tilting his head. Without a shred of apprehension, he meets you at the ledge. You watch him munch on the fish between his lips, content to observe in silence. He polishes it off rather quickly before procuring a handful, which he dumps onto the ground beside you. You shake your head at him, smiling weakly.

“Thanks, but no. It’s all yours.”

The mer shrugs and indulges without you.

“I should thank you for not hurting me back then,” you add. He pays close attention to your lips; you think he might be attempting to read them while listening. “Um… But don’t get the wrong idea. I’m not sure if merfolk are like humans, but we have this system… Or not a system… It’s more like…groupings? Secondary classifications?” You frown. How can you explain the complexities of sub-genders to a mer who doesn’t even speak your language? “Basically, I was in trouble and you helped me out. Kind of. In any case, thank you.”

He stares at you for a while, chewing and swallowing. You think he might swim back under once he’s finished, but instead he places his hands on the ledge and hoists himself up on his arms. He’s in your face next, all eager smiles and chitters.

“Fu… Furo. Furo…ido. Furoido,” he sounds out.

You read his lips in the best way you can before it finally clicks. “Ah! Floyd, right? Is that…your name?”

Floyd points to himself, makes a few upbeat clicks, and then nods. He’s pointing at you next.

“And me? Oh, my name is (Name).” You take your time sounding it out for him, and he repeats it with an awkward tongue. You smile and nod encouragingly. “That’s it. That’s me.”

He flops back into the water with a celebratory trill, a wild smile tugging at his lips. You watch him swim laps from you to the opposite end of the pool and back. Ditching the shark suit was the right call. You’re no longer uncertain. This time, you know for a fact that you’re going to be getting along very well with him.

And you look forward to fostering this flowering friendship.

[danikamariewrites]

Watch Your Step

Feysand x reader

A/n: happy day 2 and another Feysand fic! Comfort fics are some of my favorites especially for Rhys. Some of my favorite moments with him and Feyre are in ACOWAR and he’s just doting on her. @polyacotarweek

Warnings: descriptions on injuries and comfort

“Nyx, slow down!” You yelled over the little boy's screeches and giggles as he ran through the upstairs hall. You held your dress above your calves, feet carrying you quickly.

You jumped toys littered across the carpet. Sighing mentally you make a note to have the boy clean up his toys. “Bet ya can’t catch me mom!” He giggled, disappearing around the corner. “No running on the stairs young man!” He giggled again as you heard the sound of winnowing. You came to a halt. The three of you knew Nyx’s powers were developing. He could finally hide his wings on command like Rhys. But winnowing was very new.

The first time he winnowed he had taken Rhys with him. Ending up outside the Winter Court palace wanting to see his friend, the Princess of Winter. To know he could winnow so far at such a young age was impressive but terrifying.

Your thoughts raced you began sprinting for the stairs. Praying to the Cauldron your little boy was only downstairs and not somewhere unknown.

Not keeping your eyes on the ground you completely missed the pair of toy swords in a small wagon on the first step. Your bare foot landed right on the center of the wooden toys, splintering them in half. Not even getting a chance to right yourself your other foot stays suspended in midair as the wagon moves across the stair.

Your ankle turns and you feel something pop. Falling down the stairs backwards you let out a scream. You try to grab hold of the banister to slow down, your fingers screaming in protest. You hit the curved landing hard. Rolling to a stop thanks to the wall.

Thanks to the pain numbing your body and ringing ears you didn’t hear Nyx scream for you. Or the multiple pairs of feet thundering to get to you as quickly as possible.

Groaning, you roll over onto your back, trying to keep your breathing steady. You keep your eyes screwed shut at the pain still coursing through your bones.

Nyx was now sitting next to you. A little hand on your face to comfort you. “Like mommy and daddy do for you,” he said once.

“I’m ok buddy, I’m ok.” You manage through gritted teeth. Opening your eyes you smile up at him. Panic on his little features. “See, mom’s ok. Just a little fall.”

Nesta and Azriel are first to arrive, Rhys and Feyre looking destressed right behind them. Nesta quickly gathers Nyx in her arms much to the boys dismay. He starts fidgeting wildly in his aunts arms fighting to get back to you.

Before he can be told to Az winnows away to get Madja. Rhys scoops you into his arms making his way to the bedroom quickly. Feyre prepares you a spot, fluffing your pillow as Rhys set you down gently.

“Questions later. I don’t want stress her out and add to her pain.” Rhys says into Feyre’s mind. He looks back at his mate to see silver lining her eyes. Her hand in yours, rubbing soothing circles with her thumb. “It’s ok angel, we’re here.” Feyre whispered softly. You squeezed her hand in response. The both of them could feel your pain through the bond and it was breaking their hearts.

Madja came bustling in as quickly as possible leaving Azriel to linger in the doorway. The old healer shoos your mates away, “I can’t work with you two breathing down my neck. Go with the Shadowsinger. I’ll come get you once she’s patched up.” Her tone leaves no room for argument. They’re hesitant to leave you but know it’s for the best.

An hour later Madja had left you with your ankle wrapped and strict bed rest orders which Feyre and Rhys took very seriously. For the next week your mates kept a close eye on you, not letting you move an inch.

“I still think you should keep your ankle elevated, my love.” Feyre sweetly chastises you a few days later. You roll your eyes as she puts the lunch tray down to fluff the throw pillow you abandoned a half hour ago.

“I’m fine, Fey. Besides, it’s practically healed.” She hummed, raising a brow at you, gently placing your foot on the pillow. “You want to tell Rhys that?” You sigh, dropping your head against the headboard.

Rhys has been worse than normal. Maybe because it was the worst at home injury any of you had sustained. He wouldn’t even let you sleep in the middle of the bed like usual. Rhys insisted you take his side while he slept in the middle so it would be easier to carry you out of bed.

Feyre placed the tray on your lap as she settled next to you, brushing a strand of hair behind your delicately pointed ear. “How are you feeling?” She asks softly.

“Better. The pain in my side is gone and my head is fine, the only problem is the pain in my ankle.” Feyre hums looking back at your bandaged ankle. You start to pick at your food when you notice a card under the plate. Picking it up you smile. Nyx had drawn you many get well soon cards over the last few days. “Good.”

In the middle of your meal and chat with Feyre, Rhys made his way into the bedroom taking the other spot next to you in bed. He takes your chin gently in his fingers, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. As if he was afraid of causing you more pain. “Hi angel, how are you feeling?” You smile against his lips, “Good.” He lets out a content hum leaning away from you.

As the week went on your mates let up on their hovering. When the bandage came off Rhys would massage your ankle every night, rubbing a special salve Madja gave you. While their overbearing nature at times can be aggravating, you wouldn’t have it any other way. You’d never stop being thankful to have mates and a family that cares so much about you.

[stomach-bugg09]

summary: [y/n] and lo’ak are gifted the role of scouting. but, they can’t make it one single day without putting themselves in harm’s way.

lo’ak x oldersister!reader

a/n: okay, so this was formerly titled "strong heart," but i actually ended up rewriting this entire thing because i decided… what the heck was that! the prompt is the same, but i highly recommend rereading because everything else is new (and hopefully improved).

warnings: violence, language, [y/n] being a protective badass older sister, implied killing

tags: @eywas-heir @pinkhotdogsfr​

his protector

“oh, come on, little brother!” [y/n] called, her voice quiet overtop the wind. “tell me you can fly faster than that.” the two siblings soared across the blue skies, their ikrans barely avoiding the tops of each tree. every second that they moved, the flaps of their wings left the trees leaning backwards.

lo’ak groaned from behind her. “i can, but we already took a flight this morning, so i’m sorry that he’s a little tired,” he complained, patting a hand on his ikran’s neck causing a purr to rumble down its body.

the pair sully siblings were on scouting duty, their father sending the two of them off as soon as it became apparent that the day was far too busy for him as the olo’eyktan. it didn’t help that neytiri was occupied with tuk and kiri for the day, and neteyam had to attend whatever leadership meetings with his father. so, naturally, [y/n] and lo’ak immediately volunteered for the job.

normally, the parents would have said no, given the piece of work that the duo was. but, they had no choice that day. plus, even if they did say no, the two would have broken the rules and gone anyway, and jake was tired of scolding the two of them.

“excuses, excuses, brother,” [y/n] teased, turning back with a tempting grin, and just to layer it on, [y/n]’s ikran flicked her tail, lightly slapping the snout of lo’ak’s ride.

“hey!” he yelled defiantly, although the older sister could hear the smile in his voice. she braced herself as she heard the flapping wings increase rapidly, wind blowing faster. soon enough, the boy shot out in front of her and her ikran, not missing the chance to flip her off as he passed.

[y/n] laughed, shaking her head. “you are a child, lo’ak.”

“you are the one who started the competition!” he argued exasperatedly.

“ay, perhaps that is true, but at least i’m not a sore loser!” with that, the girl commanded her ikran downwards, the two ducking underneath her brother before pulling up directly in front of them.

and so, the race was officially on. no, they were not very good at keeping an eye on their surroundings, as scouts were supposed to do, but they were very good at sibling bonding. one after the other, they took the lead, alternating for what seemed like miles.

the two could only hear each other's laughs, breathless and smiling. [y/n] was in such a good mood, she’d almost missed it. she’d almost flown right through it and not even batted an eye. luckily for both of them, her ikran was on high alert ever since they entered the area a few paces back.

the laughter faded from [y/n]’s throat when she felt her ikran clicking her tongue, the soft vibrations sending her eyes up and ears perked. that’s when she finally noticed, immediately slowing to a stop, the two just keeping themselves flying in place.

[y/n] could feel her younger brother hurtling towards her, so as a last second attempt to stop him from ramming into them from behind, she put her hand up with her palm facing backwards. she thanked eywa that lo’ak was paying enough attention to notice, the boy stopping right next to her.

“[y/n]?” he panted, confused. but, it didn’t take long for him to realize either.

below them sat a camp, seemingly empty. but, it was new. the area was littered with human-like belongings—machinery, tents, an old campfire.

“that wasn’t marked on the map, was it?” [y/n] knew the answer, but she wanted to check anyway. as if she had a little bit of hope left. beside her, lo’ak silently shook his head no. “well, shit.”

“at least we have something to report?”

[y/n] quickly pushed a grin off of her lips at his comment, trying to remain serious. “is anyone in the camp? because if not, then where are they?”

lo’ak shrugged helplessly. “maybe they’re sleeping in.”

“it’s evening, skxwang,” she said with a roll of her eyes.

“okay, then they’re going to bed early.”

if she could smack him on the head, she would. “without anyone keeping watch? lo’ak, why do you lack intelligence?”

the boy sputtered, taking major offense to her comment. “hey, at least i’m creative.”

“creative, or stupid?” she muttered under her breath. she inhaled and exhaled a slow, deep breath. [y/n] was currently measuring two different choices. was she, a) going to be a good daughter or b) going to be a good clan member.

lucky for her, she didn’t even have to make a choice. “lo’ak!” she cried as her brother aimed his ikran downwards, slowly decreasing his altitude to land right outside the camp while still being hidden under the cover of trees.

“come on, [y/n], you know you wanted to,” he teased, a knowing smile resting on his lips.

“yes, but i wanted to make the call since i am the leader of this duo. mom said!” she argued bitterly, annoyance threaded through her tone.

the boy hummed, amused. “now who sounds like the child.”

with a huff of annoyance, [y/n] followed her younger brother down, landing their ikrans in the trees. carefully and very quietly, the two dismounted. from where they perched, [y/n] saw a perfect view of the camp’s entrance.

“it’s dead,” she whispered, shaking her head in confusion. with a quick look around at where they were located, storing it in the back of her brain, the girl hopped down. she landed softly on her feet, weight distributed perfectly thanks to the teachings of her mother.

lo’ak was not as quick to understand. “[y/n]?” he hissed, bringing her attention back up to the tree. “what are you doing?”

[y/n] only grinned. “come on, it’s empty! let’s explore a little, get some actual dirt to bring back to dad.” the boy shuffled warrily. “wait a minute,” she teased. “you’re not scared, are you, little brother?”

“what?” he sputtered. “uh, no! i’m just thinking. you know, like a warrior does. i’m willing to bet you didn’t think twice before jumping down there.”

she stuck her tongue out. “what’s the fun in thinking? now, come on, brother! hurry up, we do not have all day.” with that, the girl turned back around towards the camp, taking quick and quiet steps.

she grinned as she heard the huffs of lo’ak his own soft footsteps following soon after her. “the best way to approach this,” she began as soon as he caught up with her, “is to go in together. have your knife ready just in case, but as far as it looks, it is completely abandoned.”

lo’ak nodded. “do you think they have guns we could steal?” he pondered, a smile glued to his features. “because i don’t think dad would be too angry if we returned with some materials.”

“i like how you think, little brother.” and so, they finally entered the camp.

“why would they leave all of their stuff here?” lo’ak wondered aloud, looking around at the ammo and resources left behind. there was far too much to bring all of it back, but they could at least load their ikrans with a few guns and bullets.

[y/n] was thinking the same thing, although she found it hard to believe that they would just drop everything and run. unless there’d been a threat, but this was a typically dormant side of the forest. the only animal that actually caused a hazard around this part were herds of hexapede, but it was clear that a stampede hadn’t been the threat to drive them away based on how put together everything still was.

[y/n] scratch her head as she looked around, ducking under tents to check what other indicators might be around. “the sleeping bags aren’t messy,” she commented. “they didn’t leave in a rush this morning. they at least had time to wake up.”

“they also ate breakfast,” lo’ak added, his fingers brushing against the cinderblock that surrounded the campfire. “and maybe lunch.”

she sucked her teeth, not understanding. “whatever drove them away was either too dangerous to grab their guns, or they just weren’t smart enough.”

lo’ak chuckled at that. “i wouldn’t be shocked if it were the latter.”

“or,” a clicking sound had [y/n]’s ears perked up, eyes alert and hand on her knife. “there was a lot more materials that we don’t know about.”

for a second, time froze. she could feel the change in the air, the smell of gunpowder just before the shot was fired. before the sound had even reached their ears, [y/n] launched herself off the ground, covering the body of her younger brother with her own.

the shot rung out, embedding a bullet into the tree that was previously directly behind lo’ak.

“holy shit,” lo’ak rasped, eyes wide as he stared at the spot on the tree. that could’ve been me.

not a second went by before [y/n] was back on her feet, two guns in her hands from what they ransacked.

lo’ak barely avoided another bullet, rolling to the side and behind the cover of a dead log. he gasped for air, the overwhelming stench of gunpowder clouding his senses. he couldn’t even see the familiar body of his sister.

but, from where he hid, he did watch the mutual interaction as they shot back and forth, one bullet after another. he felt pride swell in his chest as an avatar’s body dropped across from his sister’s side of the forest.

he shakily clutched his intercom necklace, words quiet as he told her, “one down, two more.” he was at the perfect position for spying, if not helpful for the battle field. “more left—your left. a branch above,” he directed, smiling as yet another fell.

“where’s the last one?” his sister questioned breathlessly in his ear. his eyes rose back up, searching the trees. where’d he gone?

it was just a second too late when he felt an extremely unnerving presence rising up behind him.

“[y/n]!” he yelled out loud, alerting his sister of exactly where he was located. the older girl stood up from her hiding place behind a tree, a gun in each hand. her eyes widened at her baby brother stuck in the grasp of an avatar.

from where he struggled, lo’ak watched the eyes of his sister. just tell me when to duck, he begged, his stare desperate and terrified. and then.. she signalled.

the boy dropped all of his weight at once, catching the avatar off-guard. he cursed in confusion at the boy’s problematic antics, the only thing keeping him from having to struggle with the na’vi boy anymore being the bullet that left [y/n]’s gun, embedding itself right between his eyebrows.

as the avatar’s body fell, silence followed. [y/n] collapsed to the ground, exhaustion creeping through her bones. lo’ak could barely move, trying to catch his breath from the major chokehold that avatar’d had on him.

eventually, someway, somehow, the two crawled back to each other. lo’ak felt himself melt in the warm embrace of his big sister, his protector.

“i’m sorry,” she sobbed, clutching his head against her chest. “i’m so sorry, baby brother. i did not mean to put you in harm’s way.”

he only chuckled, tears stinging the corners of his own eyes. “you did not endanger me, sister, you saved me.”

part ii

[munsons-hellfire]

You're Losing Me 1 | Rhysand

SUMMARY: You married Rhysand for an escape from the Court of Nightmares. You loved him, but he wasn't Azriel. He wasn't your mate. And now Rhys and Azriel are losing you to the aftermath of Under the Mountain.

PAIRINGS: Rhysand x Reader, Azriel x Reader, Rhysand x Feyre Archeron

CONTENT WARNING: Heartbreak, fated mates, MFW, no smut, angst, fluff mentions of abuse, mentions of blood

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This one shot is based around You're Losing Me (From The Vault) by Taylor Swift. This will be a multi-part series that will kind of follow the books but will be altered a little. And yes it starts out with Rhys as the love interest but by the second part it'll be more focused on Azriel. If you'd like to be tagged in the rest of this multi-part series let me know in the comments and I'll add you to the tag list.

WORD COUNT: 2.5K

You were trapped Under the Mountain with your husband. He needed a partner, you needed a reason to leave your family behind in the Court of Nightmares. He was that escape for you, and you were that savior for him. It was only ever a marriage based upon a deal. But over the years you’d both fallen in love with each other. That’s what you had told yourself anyway. You knew that he told himself that too. Rhysand wasn’t Azriel… he wasn’t your mate.

Just before you and Rhysand had left for the party, you had felt the bond snap between you and Azriel. Though you hadn’t been sure if he had felt it. You’d never got the chance to ask anyway. You and Rhys were trapped Under the Mountain for 49 years, with no way for you to feel the bond between you and Azriel. It truly broke something inside you and you had felt it. You knew how you had gotten to this moment in time.

A human had saved you all, but you had suffered choosing to protect her from the wrath of Amarantha. She didn’t take too kindly to that. You were separated from the others not even knowing what had happened with the trials. You lied on the cold floor under the mountain still. Blood was leaking from your body, from the deep cuts that littered your body.

“A punishment for intervening with the human.” She’d said to you before they had dragged you away from Rhys. Panic had run through your body but it truly wasn’t enough to save you. The sobs had long since stopped coming out of your mouth. You felt so hollow lying there on the floor. The cold air rushed against the open cuts on your back. After the guards had left your room you’d heard commotion.

But you made no move to get up off the floor, too much pain ran through your body to allow you to pick yourself up from the floor. You felt calloused hands touch the side of your arm. Slowly you opened your eyes and looked up to see your husband staring back at you. A sad expression crossed Rhysand’s face as he kneeled down to look at you.

“My love.” He whispered, tears threatening to escape from his eyes.

“I don’t want you to see me like this.” You said softly, closing your eyes and pulling your head away from Rhys.

“I need to get you home.” Your eyes opened up and you stared up at him.

“What are you talking about?”

“She’s dead, we’re free. I need to get you to Madja.” You felt shock course through your body.

You would finally be heading home to your mate, seeing him for the first time in 49 years. “How?” It was a simple question and all you could get out.

“Feyre, she saved us all.” When your eyes found Rhysand’s violet eyes, you saw that look. You knew all too well what that look meant.

“She’s your mate isn’t she?” You asked. Rhys only nodded. “Az…” You paused, watching Rhys stare at you with a raised brow. But he seemed to understand what you were trying to say.

“You’ll see him soon enough.” Rhys gripped your hand and the two of you winnowed back to your home.

☾

Darkness is the only thing you saw before you woke up. The pain to your back was unbearable and you ended up passing out in Rhys arms. Azriel sat in the bed holding onto your hand, you rested on your stomach and the wounds on your back were starting to heal. He still wasn’t processing the fact that his brother and his mate were back home. It was so unreal to him. His shadows gilded around your body, careful to not touch your back.

They were beyond happy to have you back. You were home. Azriel wasn’t going to let anything happen to you, not ever again. He looked up when he saw Rhys standing at the door, he gave a small nod and adjusted his wings, pulling them in tightly as he stepped off the bed and walked over to Rhys.

“How’s Y/N?” Rhys asked, violet eyes on his wife. Though he knew that there might be a divorce in the future. You and Rhys would want different things now. He knew it even if you weren’t awake to express that. Rhys still cared for you deeply and would still allow you a home. Besides he knew that Azriel would kick his ass if he let you go back to the Court of Nightmares.

“Holding on.” Azriel kept his hazel eyes on you not wanting to look away for a second. He was so afraid that he’d lose you again. Not being able to hold you, comfort you, be there for you when you were struggling it was killing him.

“You know she doesn’t blame you for what happened to us.” Rhys said, picking up on what he was thinking just by the way he’d been staring at you.

“I should’ve gone with the both of you to the damned party.” Azriel’s tone was clipped, his jaw tight. He crossed his hands over his chest while his shadows moved around his body. Only a few remained near you.

“I gave you an order to stay here. Y/N, told you to listen to it. We didn’t need you there, we needed you here with everyone else to watch over Velaris. Y/N had told me that Amarantha might try to do something, she had told me that it was best that we go and make sure you all stay back here.”

“How did she know?” Azriel placed his hazel eyes on his brother.

“I don’t know, gut feeling I suppose. I’ve been wanting to see if Y/N might have some type of power.”

“Could that be possible?”

“It could be. We found out that she’s Hybern’s child. Amarantha told us. Apparently her mother escaped to the Court of Nightmares but gave her up before disappearing. No one had seen or heard from her that Y/N was left with that despicable family.”

“If you two get a divorce will she be sent back to the Court of Nightmares?” Rhys could hear the panic and worry in his brother’s voice. Finally Rhys turned to place his full on Azriel.

“We will get a divorce because I’m not you, she wants to be with you and to be honest she’s not Feyre. We had discussed this when we got married in the beginning. That should one or both of us find our mate and we want to accept it the other would allow a divorce. I’m letting her go, I still care for her deeply but she is not mine to love, not anymore.”

“You didn’t answer my question.” Azriel said sternly.

“I won’t send her back, Az. You should already know that. Y/N is your mate and your hers. She’s also a valued member of the Inner Circle. I do not plan on tossing her aside because I’ve found myself. I made a bargain to keep her protected from that family and I will continue to do that.” Rhys paused, he placed his violet eyes on you. You had heard the last stretch of their conversation. Rhys had told Azriel that you belonged to Hybern, that you were his offspring and yet he was still here. “I’ll leave you two alone.”

Rhys disappeared before Azriel could say anything further. You adjusted your body slightly to get more comfortable on the bed. Azriel was quick to move to your bed. You felt a few of his shadows swarm your body, they were being mindful of the cuts.

“Can you help me up?” You asked, as you were eager to get out of the bed and walk around. Azriel only nodded, he was silent and you started to think it was because of who your true father was. Azriel held onto your hands as he helped you walk around your room.

“How are you feeling?” He asked softly, his gaze on you. You had to look up at him, he was so much taller than you were.

“I’m fine.” You replied, it was a lie though. You were in a nightmare of your own making. Things were happening, you could feel it. Something was happening, a war was coming and you didn’t know how to tell them.

☾

Three weeks had passed, Rhysand, Azriel and Madja thought that they were getting better. And you were getting better, at least your back was. But you were declinding, your mind wasn’t the way it was before Amarantha had happened. And with all the trauma you’d received at the hands of your adoptive mother and adoptive father, followed by Amarantha. It was a struggle for you.

Cassian sat in your room with you, the door was open and the windows were open too. A breeze flew in while a shadow hovered around you. Azriel was out on a mission, he didn’t want to go by Rhys needed him to go on this mission so he’d ask Cass to sit with you and watch over you while he was gone. You laid on your bed, not facing the light coming from the sun outside. It was too bright in here for your liking.

You pulled the covers over your head ignoring Cassian when you knew he was staring at you. It pained him to see you like this. To see you suffering in silence and not sharing it with anyone. You hadn’t even talked to Rhys and Az about what was bothering you. But the truth was simple, you didn’t know how to tell them, to talk about the things that Amarantha forced you to do. It was far worse than the punishment you’d gotten for trying to intervene to save Feyre.

She’d discovered your powers, knew what you could do. And she used that to her advantage. Every time she manipulated you, made you believe that she’d find your mate and you’d watch him die. That’s when you learned from Amarantha that you were able to sense bad things. You knew that you could sense good things, but the majority of the time it was a handful of bad things that followed you around. You weren’t a seer.

That much was clear, while you could predict things before they could happen you couldn’t see them. Only feel them with every inch of your body, mind, and soul. You had yet to explain this to Rhysand. You knew he was itching to know what abilities you had. He was trying to see if you’d be a threat to him. You felt the room get darker, and suddenly you could hear voices all around you. One voice belonged to Cassian, the other belonged to your now ex-husband.

The divorce was quick and easy. You hadn’t been ready to accept the mating bond yet and Azriel was okay with that, he was okay with waiting even though that’s not what he felt on the inside. The sheets were ripped from your body and you groaned reaching for a pillow to pull over your head.

“No, you’ve been moping around for three weeks Y/N. You need to get up out of this bed now, and we need to discuss your powers.” His voice boomed around in your room, the pillow was then yanked from your hands. Your hair was wild and you were now glaring at the High Lord.

“Why? So you can throw me out the second I seem like I’m going to be a threat to your court.” You tried to hold yourself together, you stood on your bed on your knees glaring at Rhys, and Cassian who was still in the room. His face seemed to soften at the confession that left your lips.

“I will never throw you out of my court, you may not be my wife anymore. But you are and always will be one of my best friends. I made a promise to keep you safe and no matter what I will keep that. But this moping around needs to stop, you’re hurting Azriel.”

You were hurt, those words “you’re hurting Azriel,” they swarmed your mind. The words seemed to send you into a panic, you collapsed to the bed. Your eyes were staring up at the ceiling. Rhy's eyes came into view but you couldn’t move. It was happening again and you knew it. This is what Amarantha said you’d do when they started. You’d go deathly still as fragments of images and words appeared in your mind.

You’d always done your best to hide this from your family (well adoptive family), but when they saw it they knew it was grounds for punishment. And everytime it happened afterward you’d be sent to your room where you’d be locked in there for a week sometimes longer. When you made it to Velaris you’d gotten good at hiding it so they didn’t know about your power. Because you and Rhys didn’t sleep with each other or in the same room he never saw it.

It wasn’t until Amarantha that things got worse. She’d managed to unlock something inside you and turn this into a far more powerful being. You refused to call yourself a seer because you couldn’t see full on visions. When you finally got your vision back you saw Rhys and now Cass. They were both staring down at you worry etched across both their faces.

“What was that, Y/N?” Rhys questioned, as he and Cass lifted you up into a sitting position.

“I don’t remember much about my mother aside from the constant visions she had. They weren’t visions though, more like clipped images and words. And you know Hybern is my father, then that tells you all you need to know about who I’m supposed to be.” You said, pushing your hand up to your forehead to rub the pain away.

“And who are you supposed to be?” This time a new voice entered the conversation. You looked up to see your mate staring at you. A few of his shadows gathered around the other shadow that had stayed with you while Azriel was out on his mission. You stood from the bed and ran over to your mate collapsing into his chest as he wrapped his arms around your waist and his shadows swarmed the two of you.

“My mother gave me up for one reason only. I didn’t understand why and it never made sense, not until Amarantha told me. She was told to hand me over to my father if she ever caught me but she went against his order because she wanted me for herself. She used to tell me that I’d be a very powerful seer one day. I guess because I could see images and words that it would one day be useful especially if I fell into the full ability of my power.”

“So what does that mean then?” Cassian proceeded to question.

“In the wrong hands I could one day help destroy the world.”

[dilemmaontwolegs]

The Taste of Temptation {3} || DR3

Pairing: Daniel Ricciardo x fem!reader Summary: Pierre enjoys winding Danny up with rumours, and Danny enjoys his recompense with your body. Warnings: 18+ only, NSFW, age gap (13 years) reader is 20, smut, smut, alcohol, smut, ass play, dom!daniel, bond*ge, overstimulation WC: 3.7k F1 Masterlist Story: One || Two || Three || Four || Five Snapshots One || Two || Three || Four || Five

Round Fourteen - Netherlands You had been minding your own business, enjoying a cool glass of fruit juice to combat the rising temperature of the day. The Red Bull motorhome was unusually quiet as you sat down at an empty table, so much so that you didn’t even notice the hush that fell over the few members of staff that were around setting up for the week ahead.

Something hit your neck and a sudden roar almost deafened your ear as the shock turned to a flash of pain. You jolted out of your seat, tipping it over, and clutched the burning skin below your ear as you saw a dark blue shirt disappear out the door, the number 10 printed on his back.

“What the hell was that?” you asked as you used your phone as a mirror. “What the fuck! GASLYYY!!!!!”

A deep purple circle was growing on your skin where he had pressed the end of a hoover against it, the bright red vacuum now discarded on the floor in the culprits rush to get away. The powerful suction had instantly brought your blood to the surface and it looked like a huge hickey, and Daniel was just walking in.

You slapped your hand over the mark and saw the team members of his that were still around stifle their laughs.

“What’s so funny?” he asked with a grin.

“Pierre just gave her a hickey,” Calum, a friendly technician, managed to admit as he pointed to your hand. “Then he boosted it out of here, never seen an Alpine go so fast.”

Daniel didn’t laugh along with the rest as his fingers curled around your wrist and pulled your hand away. His eyes narrowed at the offensive mark before darting to the vacuum still running on the floor behind your chair. The stupid smile and big, round eyes on the plastic shell only seemed to grow more mocking the longer he looked at it. 

“It was just a silly joke,” you said softly. 

“Very funny.” He forced a smile but his eyes kept flickering back to your neck and you shivered as he ran his tongue along his teeth and leaned closer so no one could overhear his promise. “But only I get to mark you, kitten.”

Daniel got his recompense when you returned to the hotel mid afternoon. There was a few hours of down time before there was a small get together planned, nothing too crazy since media day started in the morning and no one wanted to be hungover for that. 

“Shhh, kitten, the walls aren’t that thick.” 

With the curtains drawn it was impossible to tell how long had passed, how long it had been since Danny tied your wrists to your ankles and subjected you to such immense pleasure you couldn’t remember your name. 

His fingers were cool against your hot skin as he brushed your hair back from your sweaty forehead before they softly tweaked your nipple piercing and another gasp slipped past the strap of leather you were biting. 

The rave music filling the room was set to overwhelm yet another of your senses but it couldn’t hide the sounds you were making and it was a wonder that all of the Netherlands didn’t know what he was doing to you. You didn’t even know what he was doing to you, there was only one orgasm rolling into the next as your tears wet the pillow beneath your head.

Toys littered the bed and Danny had taken his time to enjoy ruining you with them all. 

Your ass throbbed around the metal plug he had worked you up to taking, his words of courage helping you to push through the gasping breaths you filled your lungs with as he stretched you to the limit. The cry of relief that had erupted when the plug slid home, and the sight of your hole clenching around the narrow handle, had been enough for him to come again and the warm ropes of his release had splayed across your breasts.

If you could move you would have run your fingers through it, gathering the viscous mess so you could taste it on your tongue. That was where he had finished earlier and where he would possibly finish again, because before you knew it he was hard again.

“Please,” you whimpered as he pressed a bullet to your clit, the vibrations making more tears stream down your cheeks as intense tremors rocked your entire body and your ankles screamed for mercy. “I need to come.”

“Soon, kitten.” 

Daniel shifted to lay between your spread legs, his breath hot on your cunt as he tasted the essence dripping from your swollen lips. His fingers soon replaced his tongue and the lewd sounds of them pumping in and out of you only added to the overwhelming experience. 

Two fingers, then three. Each snap of his wrist buried them deeper and each time he brushed against the butt plug and pushed it further. Stars danced across your vision and you couldn’t hold back any longer as your pussy spasmed around his fingers before they were gone and his tongue lapped at his reward as it escaped your folds.

“I didn’t say you could-” 

Your body fell slack against the restraints as you lost all ability to think, see or hear and you floated away on the high.

When you came back to your senses you were tucked under the blankets with Daniel’s body curled behind you, his arm draped over your waist. His beard tickled your shoulder and he pressed a soft kiss upon it when he felt you wake. Every part of you ached in a way that could never actually hurt and you sighed with contentment as you rolled over to face your boyfriend. 

“How long was I out?”

“About half an hour,” he said with a proud little smile as he pulled your leg over his hip as you felt his hard length teasing along your entrance. “I think that’s a new record.” 

Your body felt empty without the toys and you looked around to see them neatly lined up on a towel drying. As messy as Daniel liked to get, he also liked to clean up after and you could feel your skin was no longer slick with sweat or sticky with his release that had painted your skin. He had taken care of it all after you had passed out.

“How bad is it?” you asked when you caught his fixated stare on your neck but he grabbed your hand when you reached up to touch the tender area.

“Don’t hide it, kitten. You can cover up Gasly’s but not mine.”

You rolled your hips and smirked when his lips parted with a deep breath as his sensitive head started to slip inside you, just an inch. “You are so petty.”

“You’re mine and I have to mark my territory,” he said before snapping his hips forward and stealing your breath as he bit your bottom lip. “It’s just biology, baby.” 

“Have you been watching the Discovery Channel again?” you teased as your eyes fluttered shut. 

Daniel laughed as rolled you to your back and tugged your other leg over his hip too before pinning your hands to the headboard. “There’s something satisfying about seeing a hunter subdue his prey.” His head dipped to yours and a shiver spread goosebumps across your skin when he grazed his teeth over your racing pulse. “Seeing how vulnerable she is up against such a beast.”

You arched your back and pushed your breasts up, silently begging him to trail his lips further down to them. He was gentle this time, swirling his tongue over the sensitive peaks knowing they would be tender. Everywhere was tender so he was taking his time with you, enjoying the long, slow strokes that made you feel every single inch of his cock as it filled you.

“She’s only vulnerable to him,” you moaned as you dragged your fingers through his hair and tugged the damp strands.

Daniel’s honey brown eyes said far more than his lips did as they curled up into a soft smile that made your stomach flip. “A lion and a kitten.”

He released your hands so he could run his own down your arm and over your collarbone to cup your cheek, the calluses on his palms tickling your skin along the way. His hand was so large it cradled your entire jaw and his thumb stroked your kiss-swollen lips before he took them for his own.

There was never a fight for dominance with him, your lips just parted as if he were the elixir of life and you were dying of thirst. He was intoxicating and addictive, unlike anyone you had been with before and he completely consumed your consciousness, filling every waking thought before infiltrating your dreams too.

You lost all sense of self with him, yet he had helped you explore your body and find so much more. And you also had lessons to teach him.

“Lions don’t actually hunt,” you murmured as you lay your head on his chest and listened to his heartbeat thumping rhythmically in your ear. “It’s the females that do the hunting. The male is just there to fuck.”

Your muscled pillow bounced as he laughed, his fingers along your spine pausing their relaxing dance. “I like that even better. What can you tell me about the honey badger?”

You pushed up onto your elbow, resting your chin on your hand so he could see the amusement on your face. “The honey badger is a cheeky creature who is very territorial and gets quite jealous over little things.”

“Is that right?” he dared you to continue with the lifting of one eyebrow and a smirk on his lips.

“Mhmm, but don’t let the cuteness fool you, there’s a fighting spirit beneath all that fur,” you teased, running your fingers through the dark triangle of curls that grew over his sternum. “And six nipples. Oh, did you think I was talking about you?”

His smirk broke into a bright smile that reached his sparkling eyes as his laugh filled the room. “You never know, I might have six nipples and just be very good at hiding them.”

You snorted a laugh and buried your face into the crook of his neck, squeezing your arms around his waist. “No, you would happily parade them about if you had that many.”

Danny placed a soft kiss atop your head before resting his cheek upon it with a happy sigh. “You know me so well.”

“Hey Nips,” Pierre greeted with a grin as he bounced on the balls of his feet impatiently. “You haven’t blocked me on Insta have you?”

“I will if you keep calling me Nips,” you warned as you pulled your phone out of your clutch and checked the app you had muted the notifications for and groaned. “Seriously?”

The Frenchman's laugh was insufferable as you saw what he had uploaded while Daniel returned to your side after chatting with Valterri, never straying too far away from you. The video wasn’t great quality considering Pierre had been running full pelt through the paddock with a vacuum plugged into a massive extension lead but you could still make out the path to Red Bull’s hospitality.

You saw yourself sitting at a table sipping your juice in peace before he flicked the vacuum on and a look of shock fell over your face when it sucked your neck into the nozzle. Unable to resist now that he had more than made up for it, Daniel chuckled in your ear at the video and you jutted your elbow back to check him in the ribs.

The next picture he posted made you roll your eyes before you saw an opportunity and sent a reply before locking the phone and slipping it back into your clutch as Daniel’s laugh grew even louder. “There’s those claws, kitty.”

You regretted opening the app as you were still thinking about the other notifications you had seen and they left you distracted. It wasn’t anything new and they weren’t often malicious but the rumours were just irritating. Every single post you were tagged in by one of the drivers inevitably led to people thinking you were dating them.

It was only Pierre who did it on purpose for his own amusement, knowing how possessive Daniel was towards you. It was like he just wanted to push his buttons and see how long it took for him to snap and make the relationship public. There had been talks of it, after collapsing into bed, high off an orgasm, but then nothing happened.

The rumours were still playing on your mind when the group moved to the large round table and you saw the name on the seating chart next to yours. 

“Hey, what’s going on in that pretty head of yours?” Danny asked as he sat to your left, his hand disappearing under the table to slide up the slit of your dress to your thigh, his thumb drawing soothing circles over the bare skin.

“Nothing, I’m just a little tired.” You weren’t lying completely, you could have done with a lot more sleep after what he put you through.

“Have you been boring Nips, mate?” Pierre asked as he dropped into the chair beside you, likely having paid off a waitress to have his name card put on your table. A smarmy smile played at his lips and he trailed a finger around the rim of his glass, the crystal humming quietly, as his other arm draped over the back of your chair. “You weren’t bored in Paris with me, were you?”

Danny’s fingers tightened around your thigh and you fought back the gasp as his nails dug half-moons into your skin. “Do you want to tell him why you’re tired or should we let him use his imagination?”

You hid your laugh behind your hand and Pierre’s interest only grew as he leaned closer. “I don’t think he is creative enough to imagine everything we did. Maybe I’ll tell Kika and she can surprise him.”

A dopey smile crossed his face at the mention of his girlfriend before a camera flashed and he sat back in his seat with a huff of annoyance at the photographer. “I thought they weren’t allowed at these things.”

You shrugged and accepted the glass of wine Danny took from a passing waitress. “Netflix wants a taste of everything this year, all the behind the scenes shots. Just be grateful you don’t have to wear microphones.”

“I dunno, could be entertaining as hell,” Daniel chuckled as he teased his fingers along the edge of your panties. “But they would have to censor 99% of what happens outside of the paddock. For us at least.”

“We get it, you guys have sex,” Lando said with a roll of his eyes as he arrived late and dropped into the seat beside Daniel, Carlos on the other side of him. “Sup, what’d I miss?”

“Nothing much. Pierre got schooled on Insta, and we are going public,” Daniel casually stated, your head whipping around towards him as he shrugged with a smile. “What? It was bothering you and it’ll shut him up too.”

Instead of looking annoyed that his fun was coming to an end, Pierre laughed and let his arm slip off your chair. “About time. Pay up, Norris.”

Lando groaned and fished his wallet out his pocket, his fingers flicking through the cash before taking it all. “You couldn’t have waited one more week? I’m a bit light. Can I get you the rest tomorrow?”

You curled an eyebrow as the money exchanged hands in front of you and you reached out, taking one of the €100 notes from Pierre. “My cut for using my relationship for your gains.”

“Well, if I’m losing five grand on this I want to see the evidence,” Lando said as he started unfolding and refolding the swan-shaped napkin in front of him. “Or I’ll have it back, thanks, with interest.”

“You’re not getting this back,” you stated as you shoved the cash into your bra before fetching your phone from the table. “My employers are cheap bastards.”

Pierre laughed with a shake of his head, knowing you had one of Danny’s credit cards and that he would never let you spend a cent of your own money while you were with him. It was the same amongst all the drivers, they spoiled their partners and enjoyed providing everything one could want or need. They didn’t see it as being ‘used’.

“There,” you grinned as Daniel’s phone beeped with a notification you had posted on Instagram. “The not-so-secret secret is out.”

“Let the chaos begin.”

Daniel’s hand disappeared from your thigh and you instantly missed the warmth before he reached for your nape. His fingers tightened their grip as he drew you closer and your breath hitched as you saw the possessive glint in his eyes before he crushed his lips to yours. The room was forgotten as he took all your focus and your phone fell to your lap so you could grab the lapels of his collar and deepen the kiss. 

Ten seconds or ten minutes could have passed by the time you parted breathlessly and as your eyes fluttered open they were blinded by the flashed of the cameras aimed your way. Daniel smirked and pulled the finger at them, causing another bright burst of flashes. “Fuck ‘em all.”

“People will talk.”

Your tongue wet your lips before you dared him. “Let them.”

His eyes drifted down your body before he dragged them slowly back up. “They’ll say you’re too young.”

“Age is just a number.” You used his own words against him, the words that had lingered in your mind since he had said them to you the first day you met.

“They’ll say you only got your job because of me.”

A small giggle bubbled up as your fingers toyed with the buttons of his shirt. “I’ll show them my degree.”

“You have all the answers, don’t you, kitten?” he smirked.

“No, there’s still one I’m waiting on...”

The moment hung suspended in the air as his brown eyes searched your face for the answer and he swore under his breath. “Fuck ‘em all. You’re mine.”

Daniel’s teeth nipped at your earlobe and you inhaled sharply at the bolt of lightning that struck your core, tightening your stomach as it flipped in response. “You’re mine, kitten, all mine.”

You couldn’t even form a response as your back pressed against the wall and he pinned you there with his hips. The denim he wore did little to hide the hard length that he ground against your core and you trembled with anticipation.

“Please, Danny,” you begged unabashedly. You had fantasised over this moment since you had met him but nothing could prepare you for the reality. Your eyes screwed shut as his zip brushed over your clit and your lips parted at the sensitive touch, a keening whine slipping from them, “Pleeease.”

Your arms tightened around his neck as he stepped away from the wall and carried you to the bed, swiping the half empty wine bottle as he passed the coffee table. The mattress rushed up to meet you and he smirked down at you as he used his knee to spread your legs wider.

“This isn’t champagne but we’ll make it work.” His fingers curled around the bottleneck and his thumb covered the hole so he could control the flow as he started to pour it over you. You jolted at the difference in temperature and the red potation started to snake across your skin with each small movement you made.

“It’s going to stain the bedding,” you whispered as you tried to hold your breath so it didn’t displace even more.

“Wine will be the least of their worries,” he teased as he dipped his head down and lashed his tongue across your stomach, dipping it into your belly button where the wine had pooled until he had licked it clean. Your stomach clenched when he rolled his eyes up your body to look at you and you swore you almost came from that image alone.

You were heady as he made his way up your body, trailing a dribble of wine between the valley of your breasts before chasing it with his tongue. His thumb traced your lips, parting them as he tipped the bottle up to fill your mouth until it overflowed. The bottle was carelessly discarded and a large hand caught your chin, tipping it back before he sealed his mouth over yours and shared the flavour of the wine on your tongue.

You silenced your phone from the incessant notifications that hadn’t stopped all evening and tossed it onto the coffee table. Dropping onto the sofa in the quiet hotel, you swirled the topped up red wine around your glass mindlessly and wondered what you had gotten yourself into.

“It’ll die down, as soon as something new comes along.” Daniel fell into the space beside you and took the wine stem from your hands, sipping it before placing it on the table and pulling you onto his lap. His hair was still damp from the shower he had just had and every few seconds a droplet would break free from the strands and run down his neck. “You’re not regretting it, are you?”

There was a touch of vulnerability in his tone that he tried to hide with a smile but it didn’t reach his eyes. You cupped his face and brushed your thumbs over the creases that were deeper when he truly smiled and shook your head. “A little apprehensive of what’s to come,” you admitted with a whisper. “But I’m proud to be yours, you make me happy.”

“That’s all that matters to me.” He guided your head to his shoulder and you relaxed as your body moulded to fit against him perfectly. This was your safe place and your soul recognised that as the late hour instantly caught up with you. A tired yawn clicked the joint of your jaw and your eyes grew heavy as you nuzzled your face closer to his neck. “And what do we say if someone has a problem?”

“Fuck them,” your murmured sleepily, making his shoulders bounce with a silent laugh.

“That’s right, kitten,” he whispered across your skin as his lips rested on your forehead. “Fuck ‘em all.”

Click here for part four.

Tagging: @moonvr @copper-boom @yunnie-f1 @ophcelia @lightsoutletsgo @alwaysclassyeagle @neiich @omgsuperstarg @starwarssavy23 @fdl305 @faeb1tch42069 @sweetestrose569 @pleasantducktimetravel @zendayabelova @dr3lover @writerscurse @christianpulisic10 @alexisquinnlee-bc @purplephantomwolf @belennasif @ryiamarie @mickslover @tyna-19 @destourtereaux @sunf1ower16 @octaviareina @laneyspaulding19 @booknerd2004-blog @mimimarvelingmarvel @chonkybonky @jpg3 @bangtanxberm

[missmonsters2]

—JOUSKA | THREE

Pairing: Wednesday Addams x OFC/Fem!Reader

Summary: Something and nothing at all changed. Wednesday is all too aware of the distance and the horrifying realization that if she wants to be closer, than she'll have to make the first move. Cue compulsively replaying a hypothetical conversation.

Warnings: Angst. Distracted!Wednesday. Wednesday generally being Bad At Feelings™️. Enid's wise words. Thing—the opportunist. Xavier absent but still not safe from Wednesday's roasts. Blood.

Series Masterlist | Library Blog | AO3

Reminder there’s no taglist but you can follow my library blog for notifications 💘

Note: This was intense to write, but it'll only get more intense! Likes, comments, & reblogs appreciated 🥺

Part Two

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷†⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

Jouska: Noun. A hypothetical conversation that you compulsively play out in your head.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷†⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

Something and nothing at all has changed since that night. 

"Hi, Wednesday."

Wednesday's eyes catch yours as she watches you flanked by two gorgon girls. You've got a white stick of a lollipop hanging in your mouth at the side, the grape confection already finished, but you don't like littering (unlike some of these other heathens at the academy).

Wednesday doesn't say anything back, but she does slow her walking down subtly, her brows relaxes and expression neutral as she looks at you. A nod of acknowledgment is all that is needed to satisfy you as you smile at her before looking away.

It's been like that since that night—the same acknowledgment, and it's all Wednesday can think about.

They've bonded, haven't they? Enid certainly said so. And if that was the case, why were you the same distance away? 

Wednesday can only think back to that night. 

"Black wings are the mark of a night faerie."

Wednesday doesn't rush her response. This was one of those moments, the one Enid was constantly telling her to be delicate about. 

The right words—Wednesday needed the right words.

It reminded her of when she first encountered the photo of herself from Rowan, and how she, too, thought she was destined for (bad) calamity. 

"Sometimes the dark doesn't cause calamity but rather is what no one expects at all," Wednesday looks at you, her eyes focused. "The solution."

But even as you give Wednesday a soft smile, she can see something dim behind your eyes, and the taste of utter defeat burns Wednesday's throat, knowing it wasn't the exact right words.

So, Wednesday was at a standstill. 

And she was also far from finding a nickname for you that she'd allow everyone to call you. The only bright side was everyone else was somehow doing worse than her with their suggestions despite her not having offered anything at all. 

There was a distance, Wednesday realizes. One that you seemed content to let be. 

Wednesday feels jolted by the realization that she's been fairly spoiled and blessed in her life (even if she didn't feel it at the moment). It had always been Wednesday who chose to keep her distance from those around her. She had her own interests and had been content to put them above everyone else. 

But ever since coming to Nevermore, her little ragtag of misfits—especially Enid—had intrusively barged into her personal space. Wednesday only had to take a small step forward, and everyone else had closed the distance. 

Everyone except you.

Wednesday Addams would never deny the fact that she wasn't free from things like desire. She desired many things: rain, mysteries, victory, the fear of others, and whatever things could be described as morbid.

She told her mother that she would never be like her—never fall in love, be a housewife, or have a family. And she had meant it at that moment (although she was very sure she'll never be a housewife). 

And really, it's not like Wednesday loves you or anything. But Wednesday has once felt enough to kiss a boy (who turned out to be a serial killer), and when she thinks of Enid, Eugene, and Xavier, she does feel like she has a strange little group to call a family of her own. She begrudgingly accepts Bianca to something like a distant, irritating cousin.

You piqued her curiosity very early on with your unintrusive smiles and waves. Now, you had an enigmatic background and a perhaps sense of self-preservation to remain distant. But it was too late. 

Wednesday desires mystery, and she desires you. 

They're not mutually exclusive.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷†⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

Blood drips down from Wednesday's cheek. She touches her finger to the cut and looks at it curiously.

"You're distracted, Addams." 

Wednesday looks back to Bianca, who somehow manages to look both smug and concerned. While being beaten by Bianca again still leaves the feeling of self-pity, her rage is directed at herself. 

"And yet, you barely managed to defeat me," Wednesday drawls. 

"Well, pull your head out of the dark, gray clouds and focus so I can put you in your place again without your excuses," Bianca shoots back without hesitation. 

Wednesday starts to move into position when the coach halts it and tells her to go to the infirmary to take care of her cut. Clenching her jaw, Wednesday puts her equipment away and leaves the room. 

The cut stings, and Wednesday knows it was her own fault that Bianca cut her too deep. She was distracted. She has been lately ever since her realization that if she wanted to close the distance, she would have to be the one to intrude in your space. 

The problem was that Wednesday only knew how to intrude into someone's space when she was suspicious they were a serial killer—accusing and without permission. 

And thus, Wednesday has been afflicted with hypothetical conversations her brain refused to stop producing. It was costing her sleep, and now the victories that should belong to her. 

"Wednesday!" 

Turning around, Wednesday sees Enid skipping her way down toward her. The blonde frowns when she glances at Wednesday's cheek and pulls out a white handkerchief. It’s the only colorless fabric she owns. "Fencing?"

Wednesday nods, accepting the cloth as she dabs it against her face, wiping at her jaw where it dripped.

"Lose?" Enid winces in pain. 

A dark look crosses Wednesday's face, and Enid quickly changes the subject. 

"Are you excited for parents' weekend?" Enid asks. "I'm surprised Principal Weems has made it so early in the year. I hear she's making changes so parents visit once at the beginning of the year and once at the end of the year."

"If by excited you mean begrudgingly accepted it, yes," Wednesday monotones.

"But it'll be interesting to see who the fairy godmother's parents will be, right?" Enid rocks on her toes in anticipation. "I heard her dad is, like, a high lord or something."

The comment does spark interest in Wednesday. She is curious about the two people who had loved you so much that they took you out of isolation and parted ways with you in this safe haven. 

Assuming that they could visit you, anyway.

"That's also a witless sobriquet," Wednesday comments absentmindedly.

Enid only huffs. 

"Enid," Wednesday calls evenly.

"Hm?"

"How—why—" Wednesday takes a deep breath as her eyes close for a moment. When she opens them, she finds Enid staring at her curiously with an amused smile. Wednesday knows it was because she’s never this inarticulate, but Enid is gracious enough to not say anything about it and waits patiently for her to gather her thoughts. 

As patiently as she can, it seems.

"Not to rush you, but you should probably hurry on and say whatever it is you want to say so you can get on to the infirmary. The cut is starting to soak through my handkerchief," Enid gently pushes. 

Wednesday grinds her teeth for a second before sighing through her nose lightly. 

"How did you decide on how you wanted to be closer to me?" Wednesday asks, leaving as much emotion out of her tone as possible but cringing at her sentence. "Especially since it was obvious I wanted to keep my distance."

Enid's lip twitches, and Wednesday already regrets asking, but before she can turn around and leave, Enid answers. "Well, in your case, I think it was easier for me to tell you didn't really want to be alone, so I didn't ask."

Wednesday makes a vague face of disgust while Enid continues on. 

"But in your case," Enid stresses, smirking at Wednesday's unblinking face. "I think you should ask to do something together to be closer."

Wednesday's eyes flicker as she processes Enid's words. The memory of Tyler's efforts to take her to the catacomb, how he set up lights, and a movie pops into her mind. 

"Like a date," Wednesday says slowly, and horrification begins to set in.

"Er, I think that's a little too advanced for you," Enid cuts in quickly. "Maybe just try to find a way to spend more time together casually but consistently."

Enid looks at her watch. "Oh, I gotta go. Yoko and I need to start planning for the boat race this year." With that, Enid happily skips down the hallway. She turns around once and yells, "Oh, don't forget to wash the blood out of my handkerchief. I trust you'll know how to do that!"

Wednesday nods before she continues on her way to the infirmary. When she enters, she sees Weems talking to someone sitting on a cot behind the curtains. 

"I'm happy you've found a friend to help you, but I'm concerned—" Weems stops as soon as she sees Wednesday, frowning as she sees the cut and then sighs, "Coach Vlad had told me you and Bianca frequently spared without your helmets. I had hoped he was joking."

The curtains suddenly opened, and Wednesday wasn’t surprised. She could tell it was you by your silhouette. 

Immediately the hypothetical conversations she's been creating pops into her mind again.

"Hi, Wednesday," you smile with a short wave before you eye her cut. "Hope the other person looks worse off."

Weems clicks her tongue in disapproval, but Wednesday's lip twitches upward slightly. 

The principal is about to say something else when a small, lanky boy walks in. He clutches his wrist, but Wednesday can’t make out his feature with his overgrown fringe covering his eyes. He seems to see just fine, though, as his posture stiffens at the sight of you.

"O-Oh, F-Fae," he starts to say but then stutters. "No, sorry, I-I mean—"

"It's fine," you wave away his attempt at saying your name. "Did you hurt yourself in psychitect?"

He nods.

"I suppose I should go find the nurse. She went down to the cafeteria for a quick snack," Weems says before she looks at you. "We'll finish our conversation later."

"It's fine," you wave it off. "I can help Wednesday. We’ll be gone before you’re back."

Weems purses her lips in disapproval, but you just give her a look back. Sighing, Weems nods before she turns to walk out. "Glad to see you fitting in more this year, Wednesday. It's pleasant to see you in my office less."

"It's too early in the year still," Wednesday haughtily replies, eyes trailing Weems as she leaves the room. 

"Come along, Henry."

Once alone, Wednesday's eyes trail to you. 

"Well, take a seat," you stand up and gesture to the cot near her as you rummage through the cabinets. 

"I can do it myself."

"I'm sure you can," you absently say as you move bottles back and forth in search of something. When you find it, you turn around with a lopsided smile. "But I assure you I can do it better."

Wednesday only raises her eyes challengingly but sits down as you sit on the stool and roll over to her. She sits primly with her back straight as a rod when you come closer and closer. To allow your proximity, Wednesday has to open her legs for you to come between, being the one wearing pants. 

"Pretty nasty cut," you mumble, and Wednesday can smell grape lollipops. 

"I've had worse."

"Bragging, I see," you smirk as you put on gloves and use tweezers to soak a gauze pad in saline solution. "Xavier did tell me you took an arrow for him once."

"Xavier has an abnormally large mouth," Wednesday speaks tersely with a furrow of her brows. When you gently dab the soaked gauze pad on her cheek, it doesn’t sting, but Wednesday clenches her fists closed with your face so close. 

"I think he was bragging," you continue to dab. "Enid and Eugene have similar anecdotes. Thing, as well."

Wednesday huffs while you merely grin lightly. 

Enid's words and Wednesday's haunted hypotheticals were plaguing her again. 

"What were you and Weems talking about?" Wednesday asks to redirect the conversation. She had been curious since she walked in, as it seemed like a rather serious conversation. 

The thoughts aren’t going away.

"She was checking in after I told the nurse I had a friend to help me apply the medicine, and I'd only come in to do monthly examinations or if something serious happened."

Sometimes Wednesday isn’t used to people answering her questions so quickly and without pretense. She’s used to them being defensive. 

'Thing shouldn't be applying your medicine.' Wednesday clenches her jaw, refusing to let the thought slip out of her mouth. With you in sight, her mind refuses to stop the compulsive hypothetical conversations.

"I see," Wednesday says slowly. "And why is Weems so particularly concerned?"

"She's my legal guardian," you answer straightforwardly, inspecting Wednesday's wound as the bleeding slows. 

The sudden new information makes Wednesday blink. 

'If you use your brain and think about it, Thing is a disembodied hand with stitches all over. Do you think that's sanitary? Forget the fact that Thing is vain and does well in washing his hand and moisturizes.'

You put down the tweezers and take off the gloves. Lifting your fingertips, you hover them over the cut. Wednesday watches as you concentrate before warmth and tiny little firefly-like lights seeps onto her cheek. 

When it’s over, the sting of the cut is gone. Wednesday lifts her hand to touch her cheek and feels a thin bump of her skin scarred over. 

'I understand your need for secrecy. I've been told I lack regard for others’ safety but I have no intentions of being the reason for your untimely death.'

You turn to grab a tub of cream and unscrew the lid. "It's not exactly perfect, but better than the usual way," you say as if apologizing. "I'll get better at it as my wings heal."

"Your powers are linked to your wings?"

'And of course, I understand you don't prefer the nurse's care. Her touch is indelicate and I imagine your wings are sensitive.'

You hum and say quietly, "A lot of it, yes. Our wings are embedded into our backs and take root inside our bodies. It's why we usually die without our wings."

"And Weems is your guardian?" 

You nod. "Yes. As you know faeries stay in isolation, and faeries with my wings are...outcasts," you smirk. "My parents can't look after me like regular parents do because the more in contact with me they are, the more it exposes my location."

It makes sense. Whoever had done such abominable things to your wings should stay far, far away—lest they want Wednesday to find a way to paralyze them without taking their wings. 

Still.

Wednesday studies your face as you apply the scarring cream. Your parents must've been heartbroken and scared witless to take you out of isolation and have Weems take over guardianship. 

'As such, I must take responsibility for Thing and offer to take his place in applying your medication. This is an acceptable trade, is it not?'

"Your parents must've adored you so," Wednesday comments. She can certainly relate to that as she internally rolls her eyes at the thought of her own parents. 

You finish applying the cream, and Wednesday has had enough of the repetitive one-sided conversation in her head. It was going to drive her crazy—and not the respectable kind. 

But just as Wednesday opens her mouth to get it over with, her words die on her tongue when you look at her.

It was the same smile as that night, the one that made Wednesday's throat burn with utter defeat.

You must miss them. 

"Yes, I suppose they did."

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷†⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

Wednesday lies in bed, staring at the ceiling, and the incessant noise of Enid's snoring is somehow amplifying her thoughts.

This. Is. Inconceivable. 

The thing with Wednesday is that she had an obsessive personality. That's why solving mysteries is such a good pastime for her. 

The only problem is when the mystery hasn't been solved, and she is left alone with the agonizing cliffhanger. 

What if the words hadn't died on her tongue? 

What if she had said them anyway, despite your smile that seemed to make Wednesday miserable. 

But the truth of the matter is that she didn't, and now, she is stuck in bed coming up with new hypothetical conversations that revolve around one matter.

'Thing is indisposed.'

'I'm offering my company and assistance. Thing may stay as an additional conversationalist.'

'Surely, you must have more to say to me daily than greeting me.'

'Thing has questionable scalpel skills; therefore, I believe he's been applying your medication inaccurately. I can't have your wings—your life source—healing poorly on my hands.'

This is all Enid's fault, Wednesday determines. She turns her head to watch her peacefully, blissfully ignorant sleeping roommate. 

Maybe she should come through with the threat of smothering Enid with a pillow. But in the end, Wednesday turns her head back to the ceiling. 

It’s then that Thing opens the door and scuttles across the room in haste. She sits up as he climbs up onto her bed and pulls at her blanket.

"What is it, Thing?" Wednesday frowns.

Thing begins signing and tapping.

"Speak clearly, Thing. You're skipping words."

Thing taps frustratedly but slows down.

"Someone…slapped…back today?" Wednesday raises her brow but then frowns deeper. "It opened a wound up...and you can't fix it yourself? Need help...now?"

Thing taps multiple times to signify that is correct. Immediately, Wednesday gets out of bed and grabs her sweater. 

"Where is she? Her room or her studio?" Wednesday asks as she shoves on her shoes, and Thing climbs onto her shoulder.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷†⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

When Wednesday arrives at your studio, following the same sequence she did weeks ago, she finds you fallen on the ground, your wings just barely over your shoulder as you hold yourself up by your elbows.

Blood drips down and soaks your feathers, somehow making obsidian look even darker. 

Wednesday walks up quickly and crouches beside you, and you barely notice her until she speaks. "Who did this to you? I want their name." She seethes.

"It was...an accident," you raggedly breathe. "She didn't know. Meant to be a friendly goodnight clap on the back."

But that doesn’t soothe Wednesday at all. Not when the back of your dress shirt is dredged in so much blood that there isn’t even a spot of white left, and your right wing twitching in obvious pain.

"What can I do?" Wednesday demands, but there was a softness to it that is almost desperation. 

You swallow. "I—I need you to move my wing over my shoulder more—until I can reach the cut to seal it." You screw your eyea shut. "I can't move it on my own."

Wednesday nods. She carefully reaches out to touch your wing.

It is velvety.

Wednesday imagines it would've been more magnificent to the touch had your feathers not been weighed down and saturated by blood. 

As Wednesday begins to spread your wing up and over, your breath hitches sharply.

Wednesday stops.

"Don't stop," you grit your teeth, taking in ragged breaths. "It hurts the longer you drag it out. Just—be gentle."

Gentle is not often used to describe Wednesday. She’s sharp and jagged, like broken glass. That's probably why she still plans to discover who did this to you and slowly butcher them—accident or not—as she carefully keeps moving your wing.

When it’s finally close enough for you to reach, Wednesday watches you use healing magic for the second time that day. You slump onto the grass, exhausted. 

Thing grabs Wednesday's attention to the pile of towels neatly folded in a tree's hollow trunk. She finds a set of spare clothing and grabs those along with the towels. 

"Is the pond water sterile?"

You nod with your eyes shut.

Wednesday places the shirt next to you and then turns to the pond, and sticks her hand in to find it was lukewarm before she soaks one of the towels.

“Change into this clean shirt for now,” Wednesday orders you but her tone lacks the usual bite. She wrings the towel and passes it to Thing. “Help her wipe the blood on her back. Turn around as she changes,” Wednesday warns Thing.

Wednesday turns away and keeps her focus on the pond, soaking the next towel. Thing taps her leg when they’re done. You look extra tired from having to change shirts but it was better than letting your bloody shirt make you sticky and then crust over before you could shower. You seem to realize it yourself as you make an effort to keep your dirty wings from soaking your shirt again.

When she returns to you, Wednesday cleans the blood out of your feathers gently but thoroughly. When she uses her fingers to brush aside some of the feathers, your wings trill. 

"Tickles," you mumble. 

Wednesday doesn’t comment as she continues until the blood is washed out and properly dried. Thing hands her the ointment you use and begins to apply the salve with precision. 

It’s quiet.

Peaceful.

Wednesday feels the tension in her shoulders leave now that you are fine and she is here. 

All those hypothetical thoughts and conversations flew right out of her head.

"I will apply this for you from now on."

You open one eye to peek at Wednesday, and she stares back at you as if to challenge her. You close your eye again and nod.

"Thanks for your services, Thing," you mumble tiredly. "Your severance package will be a bottle of dew drops."

PART FOUR

[xagave]

Absolutely, get ready for BABIES. The oldest foster we have right now is Lazarus who we got when he was 3 months old from a hoarding case. He had an extremely bad case of herpes that almost killed him and it turns out he has a really bad immune system so he's always getting sick. He's about 8 months old now and he's sort of a long term foster because he currently has FIP and treatment requires one shot every day for 80 days minimum. The meds are a bit expensive so shameless plug but if anyone wants to help us pay for the meds my wife's ko-fi is here

Here he is the day we brought Lazarus home ^

And here he is now! His FIP treatment is going very well so far ^ Our second oldest are Penny and Kazoo. We got Penny when she was 5 weeks old from a guy whose dog brought her home in his mouth (she was fine the dog was gentle.) We got Kazoo when he was 10 days old from some dudes in the next town over who didn't have time to bottlefeed a newborn. Kazoo is 2 weeks older than Penny and they became best friends!!

10 day old Kazoo and 5 week old Penny ^

Kazoo and Penny now ^

Kazoo and Penny at an adoption event ^ We're having a hard time finding them a home because we refuse to split up bonded pairs

Penny playing in the tub lol ^ Next are a batch of kittens we got from an irresponsible breeder who was fine with letting kittens get sick and starve to death. We originally only got 2 of them when they were 3 days old (breeder let mom cat get sick and die because she didn't want to pay for vet care and tried to pawn the babies off on the other nursing moms and it didn't work out) and they were born premature so they had a lot of health problems. They had rhinovirus and coccidia and the little brown kitten had an umbilical hernia that then became septic and THEN she started getting big pockets of infection in random places like under her chin and in her toes? But we managed to get them healthy and fat and thriving. My wife was able to convince the breeder to give us the remaining kittens 3 days ago and they're half the size of our first two because they've been sick and slowly starving this entire time (they're now 5 weeks old). They're still really sick and have Poop Liquid Until You Die disease so it's not fun on our end but we're working hard on getting them fat and healthy. They don't really have official names but we've been calling them Zoosmell Pooplord, Insufferable Prick, Flighty Broad, Farmstink Butlass, and Huss lol

The first two nuggets ^

They were sooooooo small ^

Finally fat and healthy at 3 weeks old! ^

The full litter now at 5 and a half weeks old ^

Comparison pic ^. Right kitten is the nugget we've had since he was 3 days old and left kitten is his brother who the breeder just now let us take. It's hard to tell with the fluff but he's borderline skeletal :( Next is a 3 month old kitten that a foster brought to an adoption event who was very clearly sick. Skinny and lethargic with a bad coccidia infection so we took him home that day 1.5 weeks ago and also sent the foster person home with some medicine to fix the coccidia in their other kittens. We've been calling him Christmas Tree Boy cause he's always got a poofy tail or Poop Boy because he hates sharing litter boxes and keeps pooping in random corners 😒 Didn't take long to get him healthy so this weekend he's getting yeeted into another adoption event and whoever adopts him needs to give special attention to his Litter Box Needs

^ He's very cute and loves playing with our other fosters but for the love of god we are TIRED of his Poop Surprises Someone who adopted a bonded trio from us a few months ago is returning them to us tomorrow because their fiance is allergic, so as of tomorrow we will have 12 fosters in our house. Sounds like a lot but we've had 30+ foster kittens crammed in here at the same time so it's a breath of fresh air in comparison💀

Edit: Not a foster kitten but honorable mention to my new betta who I named Gemini because You Know Why

He has a 5 gallon tank all to himself but I don't have a pic of him in it cause he's shy and he hides lol but it's the one behind the cup. Aiming to give him live plants soon

[tonowarii]

Night Swim

Pairing: Neteyam te Suli Tsyeyk'itan x Fem! Metkayina! Reader

Summary: You decided to drag Neteyam onto the ocean after days of not being able to be with him.

Word count: 0.6k

Warning/s: overall intimate fluff, mature themes but nothing too explicit! the act of tsahelyu, neteyam and reader are both 19!

Note: although the act of tsahelyu is not sexual itself, i just thought i'd put a warning just in case! Anyways, likes, reblogs, and feedbacks are most welcome and appreciated!

GIF is not mine, credits to the owner!

“Hold on, where are you taking me, woman?”

Neteyam breathes out with a laugh as he tries to follow your steps, it wasn’t helping that you were literally tugging on his arm to go faster.

The sun had started to set, colouring the sky in a somewhat purple hue as the waves crashed against the surface.

You turned around to face Neteyam and you smiled, yet did not answer him.

Only then you opened your mouth when you found the perfect spot, just in time before dark.

“I’ve been wanting to spend time with you.”

You utter, slowly stepping back into the sea, pulling Neteyam with you. Neteyam raised a brow, tilting his head.

“You’ve been gone for too long.” Was all you said.

“I’m here now.” He confirmed, reeling in the water with you as he takes your arms and wraps it around his neck.

Both of your legs sway in a steady rhythm below the water.

Both of you stayed in silence, taking the time to admire each other as the sky turned dark and the sea started to glow along with the dots that littered Neteyam’s face. You memorize every little detail.

It was not long before you’ve both chosen each other in front of Eywa as mates, a year ago after the events at the Three Brothers, a year since they were acknowledged as one of your people.

It was just like this that night, the two of you glowing in the moonlight as you bonded with one another.

Everything about him felt like a complete burst of fresh air for you. His eyes trail from yours to your lips, before going back to your eyes again.

You hum a slight tune of satisfaction before closing the gap between the two of you, pressing your forehead to his.

Your legs moved to wrap around his waist as his hands instinctively made its way to your thighs to prevent you from sinking.

“Ngenga lu narlor (You are beautiful).” He whispers.

Heat rushes to your cheeks as you avoid his eyes with a shy smile. His other hand strokes your waist. You flick your eyes to meet his again, you pulled back before leaning in to peck his cheek.

“I’ve missed you.” You utter, tracing lines on his back that made Neteyam suck in a breath.

“You have me now, paskalin (sweet berry). ” He said, looking at you.

You chuckle at the endearment.

Neteyam's head was running wild the longer he stared at you, giving your thigh a small squeeze as you softly gasp at the action.

Retracing your hand to move your hair to the side, you grasped onto your queue, looking up at Neteyam.

Once he saw, he wasted no time grabbing his with his free hand, placing it in front of him in a hasty manner that made you laugh.

“S-sorry.” He apologized with a sheepish smile. You shook your head, leaning your face closer to his as you littered kisses all over him that elicited slight purring noise from him.

“Don’t be.”

Looking at each other, you both glanced at your queues as they approached one another.

As the bond was favorably made, Neteyam let out a soft grunt as you gasped, feeling everything that’s within you were on fire, burning.

You shut your eyes, Neteyam pulls you closer as he hoists you up again, littering kisses on your jaw.

“Neteyam.” You whisper his name, almost like a prayer as you feel on every inch of his skin with your fingertips.

You couldn't get enough.

“(Y/N).” He breathes.

Looking at each other, Neteyam leaned in to capture your lips in a slow, passionate kiss.

You cup his face in your hands, desperate to pull him even closer as your legs locked around him.

Quick breathes were shared as you and Neteyam lived in the moment, it was just the two of you before the sea, before Eywa.

His hands were on your waist, softly stroking it with his thumb. “You- you make me crazy.”

You let out a soft laugh, nudging your forehead against his.

“You make me even crazier."

Tonight was one of those worth remembering between the two of you. Having memorized the other's touch, leaving remnants on the other's body only made from the love you both shared.

You became one once more.

Sincerely, having Neteyam as your mate couldn't get any better.

[ivymarquis]

Bonded

Pairing| Ghost x F!Reader

Rating| T

Word count| 892

Tags| COD-esque levels of violence, non-descript references to SA,

Anyway idk what this is but I had a thought and I wrote it down. Enjoy. Or don’t, it’s whatever either way.

You come back to the world of the living with ringing in your ears.

Dazed and disoriented, your brain struggles to piece together everything that just happened in the last 30 seconds.

You and Ghost were supposed to be clearing a room when you’d realized a moment before disaster that it was rigged to blow. The two of you scrambling to put as much space between yourselves and the inevitable detonation; You’d succeeded, but not entirely.

You aren’t blown to pieces and it feels like you have as many limbs and fingers and toes leaving the room as you did entering- that was good.

Ducking around a corner had shielded you from part of the blast but not all of it. Enough to knock you both on your asses.

Everything is white noise, staring forward blankly and only distantly realizing you’re staring at Ghost because the black and white of his balaclava is such a stark contrast to the surroundings.

You can’t tell if he’s conscious, but he’s not moving. One of your hands outstretches towards him, so focused on your squadmate that you miss the sound of approaching boots crushing the debris littering the ground.

Disoriented as you are, you don’t hear the “She’ll be more fun to get information out of” but you do feel the hands wrapping around your ankles.

A startled yelp escapes you, instinct having you scrambling to get to your teammate. There’s certain things that hardwire into the brain, and even as out of it as you are, you know intrinsically that nothing good awaits you being separated from Ghost. The 141 is packbonded, the hours spent in close and often unpleasant quarters forging a bond that supersedes anything else.

Your sound of protest seems to be what brings Ghost to, and he is far more with it than you are.

Whoever has a grip on your ankles settled far too quickly into the idea that you are in no state to fight back and Ghost is down for the count. You’re just close enough even after the foot or so that he’s dragged you that Ghost is able to grab a hold of your wrist.

Where the enemy soldier’s grip was loose, Ghost’s is firm and unwavering. If you were more with it, you’d be laughing at the notion of feeling like a rope toy caught between two dogs.

You’re able to free one of your ankles at the expense of the other one being clamped down on with two hands. Kicking blindly, you can feel yourself making contact against his chest but you’re not entirely certain how much damage you’re doing.

Ghost yanks you towards him with one hand, his other digging around until he finds a knife.

The first yank catches the soldier off balance as you slide across the floor closer to your Lieutenant. The soldier doesn’t lose his grip on your ankle, staggering forward the few steps to keep a hold of you. The second yank pulls you half underneath him, Ghost raising to his knees and lunging in attempt to slash at the enemy soldier still holding to your ankle.

You are grabbing at any part of him that you feel you can get a good purchase on, propriety be damned.

A feeling that is apparently mutual as Ghost’s hand lands on your ass, shoving you further underneath him. Ending up with your head between his thighs, your arms reach through the gap. One elbow hooks around the back of one of his thighs as the other reaches up looking for purchase on his back. Grabbing a fistful of one of the numerous straps on his vest, you’ve secured yourself to him about as well as you are able.

The room is spinning as you try to keep your wits about you.

You’re probably concussed, you realize, and being fought over like a scrap of meat is jostling you as the two men struggle to break the other’s hold on you.

At one point Ghost’s knee ends up digging into your shoulder as he moves to stand, the brunt of a grown man’s weight a welcome trade off to the discomfort that would have awaited you with the would-be kidnapper.

Your feet hit the floor with a thud, and it seems at this point the other soldier has realized his error.

Too late though- so preoccupied with trying to keep a hold of you versus dispatching Ghost (Good luck with that), once the lieutenant gets a hold of him he’s done for. The knife finds its place in his neck as it has with so many enemy soldiers. Arterial spray hits everything in reach as the knife is removed, his body dropping like a sack of potatoes. He’s not dead yet but will be shortly, too distracted with trying in vain to staunch the bleeding to do anything else.

The threat neutralized, Ghost’s attention turns to you.

He’s speaking, you experiencing the dissonance of hearing his voice but not understanding what he’s saying. your brain picks up what he wants as his hand outstretches to you. Taking the offered hand, he plucks you off the ground like a sack of flour.

He sounds like you’re underwater, and something is sticking to your neck that you’ll realize later is blood drying down to your skin. “On your feet soldier. We’re leaving.”

[violet-shadows]

Careful

Masterlist

Summary: Azriel discovers something about his half-human mate that alarms him.

Pairing: Azriel x Half-Human!Reader (She/Her)

Word Count: 1.4k

Warnings: mention of bruises from sex

A/N:  This is just a little drabble I wrote when I couldn’t sleep. If you made a request, please know I’m working on it. Thanks for your patience!

 ⊱ —————— ❈  —————— ⊰

You woke to the sound of rainfall on the cabin roof and the smell of crisp morning air. Despite the early autumn chill, you were warm, tucked into the side of your slumbering mate. Azriel laid on his back, one arm wrapped around your torso while the other rested gently on your hip. Both of you were naked, as you had been for several days now, ever since you accepted the mating bond. It turned out that the haze that followed, which some referred to as a “frenzy”, was not a thing of stories. Since the bond fully snapped, you hadn’t been able to get enough of Azriel, spending your days and nights with your bodies pressed together, addicted to the feeling of your skin on his. Before you left for the cabin, Rhysand said he didn’t expect you back for several weeks. At the time, you assumed it was hyperbole, but the bond had brought out Azriel’s baser instincts and he was yet to come down from the half-feral state. Not that you minded one bit.

To his credit, Azriel still made sure you two ate and drank somewhat regularly, taking care to run you a hot bath once you had your fill of one another, if only for a few hours. If it weren’t for his voice of reason, you might have been content to lay in his arms until the end of time. In this state of post-mating bliss, time and the outside world meant very little, your entire focus was on the merging of your two souls.

You didn’t bother to dress before walking towards the bathroom, content with the privacy your little oasis provided. When you reached the doorway, you jumped at the feeling of warm, gentle hands on your hips, pulling you to a stop. Azriel had sprung from the bed so silently he may as well have traveled through shadows. You grinned as you turned, moving to wrap your arms around his neck, but the look on his face gave you pause. Instead of playful hunger, your mate looked stricken, distress radiating down the bond. Your face dropped as he stepped back, looking up and down your body in a clinical manner, with only his fingertips ghosting against your waist.

“What’s wrong?” You asked, stepping closer to him. Even his scent was unsettled, tinged with a note of anxiety. Gone was the open and soft expression you had grown accustomed to, replaced by the mask of equanimity worn by the Spymaster. He remained quiet for a moment, as though lost in thought. “Azriel?”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”, he said finally, not looking you in the eye as he spoke. He withdrew his hands, tucking them behind his back like he did when you first met. His shadows were drawn in tight as well, snaking up his neck as if to hide his face from you.

“Tell you what, love?”, you were growing more nervous by the second, unable to guess the reason for his sudden shift in behavior. His lips were pressed in a thin line and he continued to look up and down your bare form.

“That I was hurting you,” he whispered, his voice rough. You stepped forward and he flinched, his gaze still locked on your body. Finally, you looked down to see what he was so troubled by. Light, finger-shaped bruises decorated your hips and upper arms where he had gripped at the flesh as you made love. A glimpse of your reflection in the mirror revealed love bites and hickeys littering your neck and breast. It was not at all surprising, given the passion with which the two of you approached sex, but the marks were far from severe.

“You weren’t hurting me,” you told him. “You’ve never hurt me.”

“You’re covered in bruises!”, he choked. “Still! We’ve been asleep for hours and it looks like–”, his voice cut off and he turned, a hand coming up over his mouth. You followed close behind him.

“Azriel, I’m fine,” you tried to reassure him, genuinely puzzled by his reaction. The bruises were visible, yes, but they were faint and painless. In your mind, they were nothing to get worked up over.

He ignored you, fetching your robe to drape over your shoulders. As he did so, he examined your body again and grew paler. “I should bring you to a healer,” he declared, moving to pull on his pants.

“Why would I need to see a healer?” You asked quietly. Your mate didn’t seem to hear you as he moved swiftly about the room, gathering up basic supplies needed for a journey back to the city. You could feel guilt rushing down the bond, nearly choking you in its intensity. “Azriel!”

You finally got his attention and he froze, turning to you to reveal wide hazel eyes that were wet with tears. You walked towards him, taking one of his hands in yours. “I don’t need to see a healer, Az. I’m not hurt.”

“Y/N… Sweetheart…”, he started, speaking softly. “If you’re still bruised by now, who knows what kind of damage I might have done? Gods, how could I not notice?” He was spiraling again, tears of shame wetting his lashes. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart. Why didn’t you tell me I was being too rough?”

Slowly, you began to put two and two together. Azriel was an Illyrian gifted with rapid healing abilities and his previous lovers had all been High Fae. For full-blooded Fae, minor bruises were gone within minutes and only significant damage would still be visible to the naked eye hours later. You were half-human, though, and while your healing abilities were superior to a full-humans, they were still far slower than Azriel was used to.

“Love, you forget I’m half human,” you began, offering him a gentle smile. He stepped away, taking a seat on the edge of the bed where he buried his head in his hands.

“I should have been even more careful with you. Fuck!” He exclaimed, hands moving upward to curl in his dark hair. You could hear his heart rate begin to rise and his breaths becoming shallow, a stark contrast to the pillar of calm you were used to.

“Azriel, no! I mean that I bruise more easily and heal more slowly. You didn’t hurt me, love. This is normal.” You dropped to your knees, forcing him to remove his hands from his face. “I just mark up a bit more than you’re used to and it takes longer to fade. I promise I’m not hurt.”

“But the marks…”, he looked down at your neck where a hickey peaked out from the collar of your dressing gown.

“Will fade soon,” you replied. “They just take a little longer. I don’t even feel them. I would tell you if you were hurting me, okay?” He nodded mutely, his rapid heart rate beginning to come down. You stood up, gathering the still seated male into your arms so that his head rested on your chest. You leaned down, pressing a kiss into the top of his head and he wrapped his arms around your middle, wings coming forward to circle you as well.

“You’re sure?” he mumbled after a few moments, his cheek still resting over your heart.

“I’m sure,” you answered, unable to contain your giggle of amusement. “I know what’s normal for me. And this is normal.”

He swallowed thickly and nodded, his shoulders sagging in relief. He straightened and looked at you, giving you one final examination before asking, “You feel okay?”

“I feel amazing,” you replied, one hand coming down to ease his torso back onto the bed. “So amazing, in fact, that there is only one thing in the world that could make me feel even better,” you purred, moving to straddle his hips on the bed. Now that the anxiety had faded, your mate's eyes were once again alight with hunger.

“I think,” he craned upwards, pressing his lips to yours. His hands settled on your hips ever so gently and you made a mental note that you would have to work back up to the commanding touches you’d grown fond of. “I think that can be arranged.”

 ⊱ —————— ❈  —————— ⊰

Taglist: @answer-the-sirens @microwaveallthedemons @judig92 @wolfyland07 @donttellthecats @goldentournesol @mulansaucey @millionthingsihaventdone @starlit-terror @starrstrucked @bankerfrog @xxoverthinkxx @luv-xoxo @abrunettefangirlnerd @cameronsails (Please message me if I missed or messed up your tag.)

Likes, reblogs, comments, and feedback are greatly appreciated. Please let me know if you would like to be added to or removed from my tag list for future fics. Click here to check out my other work.