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PAIRING: Hunter!Simon 'Ghost' Riley x F!Werewolf!Reader
SYNOPSIS: There’s blood on your hands again.
WORDCOUNT: 16.8k
WARNINGS: Intense gore, body horror, death, mutilation, weapons, firearms, knives, intended harm, violence, blood, descriptions of wounds, angst, fluff, protective!Simon, religious mentions, period time standards for men/women (1700s), etc.
A/N: The first of my reverse AUs is finally here! Enjoy!
*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*
last updated: 28/4/2023
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BODYGUARD
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STRANGER THINGS
TED LASSO
THE LAST OF US
TVD
THE WALKING DEAD
Right, so I’m not really sure how many of y’all would have read Strawberries and Cigarettes (which is a part of my Gunpowder and cinnamon series) but this is like a prequel to that particular part. And that also means that this fic will be a part of the same a/b/o universe of the pairing of John Constantine x Reader x Lucifer Morningstar (I have had them circling my head since the beginning of the year, and now here we are.)
An exorcist, a soul manipulator, and the Devil meet each other in Hell. This is a story of soul searching, danger evading, and a trio of adults who need to get some problems (both mental and in regards to danger actually coming for them) sorted. They’ll help each other out, and maybe they’ll fall in love in the process?
This will be the last fic of the year, folks! It somehow feels right to end it with an omegaverse fic lmao- And also I can make the excuse of ‘the Devil made me do it’ when future me asks about why I haven’t done my coding work yet.
All my love to my beloved @no-te-lo-voy-a-dar who is my enabler and an absolute god send. Am kissing their hands as I type this
You were in Hell. Not in the sense of the metaphorical way, but in the literal sense.
You were literally in Hell.
Some would call you suicidal. Some would call you brave. But most would call you soulless. Because, in a sense, that was what you were. You lacked a soul. You didn’t sell it, and you didn’t give it away. You simply… lost a large proportion of it in an attempt to strengthen your powers.
Soul manipulation.
At least, that was what your parents told you when you asked about the pretty lights circling you. You could control your soul, reaching out with it to connect with other souls. Not human souls, but of the soul-like essences lingering in the elements, in the air- in most things. You could reach out to them and offer pacts to these spirits- pacts which promised them a small portion of your soul and the magic store you held.
Your parents were also soul manipulators, with your mother having a pact with a high ranked water spirit called a Ciquel, which let her form and control water. She could also summon the wolf shaped spirit to aid her. Your father had a pact with a middle ranked spirit of the wind called a Slyph, and could control the winds to a certain degree. Both were betas, as was the way of people dabbling in mystical arts.
You were an exception though. In many ways.
You sighed as a shiver ran down your spine. You weren’t scared- You didn’t feel scared. But it seemed as if instinct was a different thing.
Maybe you were cold. Hell was colder than you expected, and had far less fire and screaming than you assumed. It was fascinating, in a rather morbid way.
You were an exception. An alpha in the sea of betas making up the mystical community. And holding pacts with four general ranked spirits of the elements. And you craved for more. Hence your trip down under.
You ran your hand across the grey walls surrounding you.
Soul manipulators were rare, and sought after by a wide variety of organisations. Both of the mystical kind, and the non-mystical side. It was only natural that your parents died before they could grow old. Both sides would rather have soul manipulators dead than in the hands of another’s side.
“Saleana,” you whispered out, and although weak, you could feel a rush of warmth surround you as flickers of fire erupted near your face.
You ventured onwards, even though you could feel a sense of dread creeping up on you. Your link with your elemental spirits were weak down here, although thankfully not non-existent.
You had the paper and the sigil ready, and you could attempt to call upon a spirit right now, because you were half-certain that you were safe here-
A whisper in your mind. The heat of it told you that it was Saleana talking to you. They told you to-
You ducked, just in time as a fiery blast of fire whistled past where your head would have been.
You swivelled around, fully expecting to find a demon, or a hellhound, or something- But paused when you saw… a man. A normal looking man. No horns, no rotting flesh, no nothing. You tilted your head at him curiously without even attempting to protect yourself.
He was… ruggedly handsome. Dirty blond hair, cold blue eyes, wearing a ratty trenchcoat- stubble growing from his chin- His hands were ablaze with fire, and you absentmindedly concluded that he was the one to throw that fire at you.
(a/n: hi!! this is my first fanfic like ever so feedback is highly appreciated!! i hope you enjoy :))
The morning sun crashed through the windows much, much sooner than it should have. Before she could open her eyes and scowl at the open curtains, and silently curse her mate, darkness washed over her face. She was confused, before feeling the warmth of the Shadowsinger against her back. She softly smiled to herself and rolled over to look at the beauty of the Illyrian male holding her. He slowly opened his eyes, looking at her with pure love and adoration for his mate.
“Did you forget to close the curtains again, love?”
He nuzzled his face into her hair, softly saying something she couldn’t quite understand.
“Did you?”
“…maybe?” he said sleepily.
“Be thankful the baby isn’t making me sick this morning or I’d be upset with you,” she murmured while moving closer to him.
It still felt like a dream to her, being mates with Azriel, carrying his babe, wearing his ring and being his. His wife. His mate. It was her he always came home to, and her arms he fell into after a particularly hard mission. After falling pregnant, he refused to go on missions that would require him to stay for more than one night. He wanted to be close to her should anything happen, and made sure Rhysand kept protective barriers around her. He increased the security at the House of Wind, just to keep her and the babe safe. He wouldn’t know what to do with himself if anything happened to either of them.
“Get out of your own head, love. I can feel it through the bond. Nothing is going to happen,” she said softly against his neck, sending a shiver up his back. He just held her closer to him, not wanting these precious moments to go to waste. Mother knows they would be scarce and hard to come by once the babe was born.
“How did you sleep, darling?” he said into her hair.
“Would’ve been better if you remembered to close the curtains last night,” she said, muffled from being so close to the shadowsinger. Before she could finish her sentence, the curtains whooshed shut, bathing the room in darkness.
“Is that better?”
“Much better. Now hold me and let me sleep” she hummed.
“As you wish, love.”
She tried to get comfy again, when the babe decided it was a great time to absolutely kick the shit out of her belly, reminding both of them that, yes, the babe was still here.
“Mother save us, he’s already strong,” she murmured.
“He?” he asked, “I thought we were waiting until you gave birth to know the sex?”
“We are, just mothers’ intuition.”
“If you say so, darling.”
“I do say so, now let me up, I have to pee. Your child kicked me right in the bladder,” she said, trying to move away from him. He let out a loud sigh before releasing her, not wanting an accident.
He watched her as she got up and walked, no, waddled to the bathroom, long hair flowing down her naked back. He knew it would only be a month or so before she gave birth. He couldn’t wait to hold the sweet babe, teach them to talk, walk, but mainly, he couldn’t wait to teach the babe how to fly. He also worried for her during the birth. He hated to see his mate in pain and couldn’t imagine what he would do if he lost her. He couldn’t imagine raising the babe alone, without his mate by his side. Before he could get too deep in his own thoughts, she came out of the bathroom, waddling back to bed and laying down next to him, firmly planting her head on his chest.
“I’m going back to sleep. I like not being nauseous, and the best way to achieve that is to be asleep,” she whispered to him, not caring if he heard her or not. “I also hope you don’t have a mission today, because I’m not letting you go.”
“I did have one, but I’ll have Rhys send someone else.”
“Good.” She let out a soft yawn as he wrapped his arms around her, humming softly.
“I love you, darling.”
“I love you too.”
Word count: 3.9k
Synopsis: Reader has to play temptress/dancer at the Court of Nightmares for the IC as a distraction. She has to sit on Az’s lap (conveniently necessary) and eat from his hand. Friends to lovers. They can barely keep their hands to themselves.
A/N: visual aid. Coined diadem ~ The outfit
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
You ran your fingers through the beautifully crafted outfit laid on your bed, mulling over the plan for tonight. You were going to the Court of Nightmares for the very first time as a new member of the Inner Circle. The role you’d be playing wasn’t a light one by any means; you were asked to play the role of Court Temptress, seducing the Shadowsinger. The distraction tonight, a figure that no one could place, that would not be named.
“I know it’s a little intimidating,” you jumped slightly at Mor’s voice suddenly behind you. You turned to face her. “Remember it’s not too late to back out.”
You smiled at your friend. “It’s okay, the mask will definitely help.” In the spirit of the intended mystique, Rhys had a dancer’s veil fashioned as part of the outfit; a diadem draped with intricately organized gold coins that would cover your whole face save for your eyes.
Mor patiently waited to help with your hair and makeup while you changed into the outfit. You wore an off-shoulder corseted black bodice glittering with beadwork that replicated the night sky. Jewelled strings hung off the bottom in an overlaid formation, draped like necklaces resting on your exposed abdomen. The bottom was a matching chiffon black skirt that hung off your hips in a floor-length piece, one down the front and one down back, slitted to expose both your legs.
When you walked out wearing the two-piece ensemble, Mor squealed in delight, making you laugh. “Beautiful! It’s so perfect!” You sat at the vanity to let her do your hair. She curled it into generous waves that fell down your back, fixing the back of the diadem into your hair. “He’s going to love it,” she said as she finished your hair. You perked up, cheeks heating.
“Who?”
Mor rolled her eyes, smiling. “You know exactly who. I’ll be right back,” she winked and left your room. You continued to take yourself in the mirror. Despite your nerves, you couldn’t help but admire your look. The black lining your eyes in a fierce upward sweep, the thick lashes, the way the coins moved with your movements.
Most of all, you appreciated the way your eyes shone behind the gold coins decorating your face, reminding you of a creature of seduction. A siren.
A knock sounded on your door. “Come in,” you said to Mor, inspecting the various crescent moon and star jewels adorning the length of your hair. Mor didn’t say anything upon entering, the silence prompting you to turn and see what was wrong. Except it wasn’t Mor who stood in your room, taking you in.
It was Azriel.
His mouth was parted slightly in astonishment as he gently closed the door behind him. You stood to face him fully, feeling exposed under his inspecting gaze. His mouth closed, jaw clenching and unclenching as his eyes travelled down your form, then back up again. Thank God for the veil, you thought as pink tinted your cheeks.
“Wow,” he said, letting his eyes rake your form once more. “You look… you look stunning.”
You ducked your head at the compliment. “Thank you.”
When you looked up again, he was smiling fondly. “Come on, none of that.”
“What?”
“No bashfulness. Not tonight. Look at you,” he said, walking towards you. A smoky look appeared in his eyes as he held your gaze. “Beautiful,” he said lowly, making your gut twist.
You swallowed. “Thank you,” you repeated. You and Azriel had become best friends over the few months you’ve known each other. The kind of best friends that toed the line a lot, the kind with lingering gazes and extra caresses that they didn’t acknowledge.
“Mor said you needed help with the jewelry.”
Your eyes narrowed. “Did she now.”
Az smiled cheekily. “Don’t shoot the messenger. It’ll be a good warm-up for tonight.”
“Ah yes,” you mused. “My partner in crime for the night.”
You turned to face the vanity again in search of the jewelry. None was laid out, making you frown. You met Azriel’s gaze in the mirror. “Rhys had these custom-made,” Azriel said, pulling out a velvet box you hadn’t seen when he entered. You began turning to see the contents, but Azriel stopped you with a gentle grasp on your shoulder. He began retrieving the contents of the container; a set, you presumed. He looks beautiful too. He donned a black dress shirt and dress pants, the fabric straining under the movement of his muscles. His golden skin glowed in contrast to his dark attire. Azriel pulled out a celestial gold necklace, placing the container on your seat. He unclasped it and brought his hands over your head to place it on you. The pendant fell above the swell of your chest. You moved your hair up to allow him to clasp it in place, and he moved even closer to do so. If you leaned back even an inch, you’d feel his abdomen on your back. You’d feel his breath, feel his warmth. Just an inch –
“There.”
You snapped out of your trance, meeting his gaze again in the mirror. He gestured for you to turn with his finger. You turned and craned your neck back to compensate for his towering height. He gazed down at you before finally stepping back. He reached for more jewelry in the box, but you didn’t take your eyes off him as he did. He moved to your side, grasping your right wrist gently to pull your arm up. You did as he silently requested. He treacherously grazed the length of your raised arm with the back of his knuckles until he reached your bicep. There, he clasped a thin, golden cuff in place. He then met your gaze.
“Was that necessary?” you asked despite yourself.
“Oh, yes,” he smiled.
You rolled your eyes, once again saying a prayer of thanks for the veil masking your blush.
He walked to the other side of you and placed the matching cuff in place. You reached into the box and began stacking rings on your fingers to distract yourself. He then held out a bracelet between his fingers, allowing you to rest your wrist on it for him to secure it. He repeated the motion with the second bracelet. You didn’t mind being under his care like this, you thought. “Is that all of it?”
He met your gaze, and that intensity from before came to life in his eyes again. “No.” He reached for the final piece in the box.
You frowned at it in confusion. “What is that?”
“It’s for your thigh.”
Your eyes widened. “Oh.” You took it from his hands and bent to clasp it around your upper thigh. You struggled to clasp it behind your thigh while keeping the chains draping in correct formation, prompting you to begin again and again.
Azriel placed a gentle hand on your wrist. “Let me,” he said. You gave him the chain.
To your shock, Azriel dropped to one knee. The gesture was startlingly intimate, making you hesitate. “Az, you don’t have to do that.” He just shook his head, brushing off your worry. He clasped it in place easily. When he finished, he didn’t immediately rise as you expected.
He gingerly grasped the backs of your calves, meeting your gaze. “Nervous?”
You tried to compose yourself. “What?” Your breathlessness betrayed you, though he didn’t comment on it.
“For tonight,” he clarified.
As if you could focus with his hands grasping you gently. “A little bit.”
He smiled, fondness snuffing out the previous look of fervour. “You don’t need to be. Let them see you as I see you.”
You dared voice your question. “How do you see me.”
“Beautiful, clever, charming.”
Despite his praise, despite what it did to your heart, you felt your nerves arise. “I don’t know if I can do this, Az.”
He stood at your admission. You kept your gaze lowered, prompting him to raise your chin gently to meet his gaze once more. “You can,” he said. The certainty in his voice made you believe he meant it. “I’ll be wearing a mask too,” he said softly.
“What mask?”
He smiled again. “The big bad Shadowsinger mask.” That made you laugh, easing your nerves. “I’m going to be acting very unfeeling and ravenous.”
“Big words,” you smiled up at him.
“Indeed,” he smiled back.
Silence fell upon the two of you as you looked at each other. This wasn’t uncommon, though neither of you ever acknowledged it. “What’ll it be like when I walk in?” You broke the silence.
Azriel’s eyes glinted with something predatory. “They’ll be on their knees for you. As any male should be.”
The thrill that went through you had you raising your chin. “Is that so?”
Azriel smiled, all masculine satisfaction. “Did I not just give you a demonstration?”
You smiled coyly despite the butterflies in your stomach. “I suppose.”
Another silence fell, though you had no intention of breaking it this time. Azriel reached to the veil on your face, gingerly tracing the coin above your mouth. You watched as he did, wanting to see what he’d do next –
“(Y/N), we’re leaving in five,” Mor shouted from outside, knocking on your door. You startled, stepping back. You looked back to Azriel. He gave you a nod, then turned and lead the way to meet the rest of the group outside.
~
Upon entering the foyer, you found everyone standing getting ready to winnow. They turned to you as you arrived with Azriel. Cassian let out a wolf whistle, making you laugh. “You’re a knockout,” he said.
You gave him a cheeky raise of your shoulder, grinning at him. Rhys and Feyre were smiling at you, though you knew you wouldn’t be seeing those smiles when they’d ascend the Court of Nightmares throne. “I knew you’d be perfect,” Feyre said.
“It’ll be a good look for Az, too,” Cassian said, wiggling his brows suggestively, making you laugh. A reminder about your intended role for tonight. Not just any Temptress, but Azriel’s.
“Remind me again why I’m assigned to Az?” you asked.
Rhys’s mischievous smile had you immediately regretting the question. “Because you two can just look at each other exactly as you do anyways, and it’ll get the job done.” You glared and gave your High Lord the middle finger, making Feyre and Cassian laugh as Rhys continued to smugly smirk at you.
“Slanderous allegations,” Azriel quipped. You turned to look at him, and he only winked at you with a crooked grin. You went to elbow him, but he easily caught your elbow before impact, returning your arm in place.
“They make it too easy,” Feyre said to Cassian who nodded easily.
“Whatever,” you said.
“Ready?” Mor asked.
You took a deep breath, remembering what Azriel said to you. They’ll be on their knees for you. “Ready.” You took her hand, Azriel took the other, and the world disappeared.
~
You found yourselves in the antechamber leading to the throne room, prompting everyone to put on their subjective masks; the cruel, tyrannical inner circle outsiders believed you all to be. Cassian was to enter first along with Azriel, then Amren, Mor, Nesta, and Elain. Rhys and Feyre would follow, and you’d be the last one in.
Azriel turned to you as everyone prepared themselves. “Remember what I said,” he spoke softly with no trace of humour. “When you walk in, just keep your eyes on me. Don’t worry about anyone else.” You nodded.
A hushed silence overtook the room as each member walked in. When Rhys and Feyre made their way in, you heard vague shifting. They’re kneeling, you realized. As your high lord and lady made their way to the thrones, you walked to the threshold of the throne room, taking it all in.
Someone inside began playing slow, mesmerizing music. Notes from a violin, then the slow, rhythmic beat of drums that you felt in your bones. Your friends flanked the thrones. You remained standing where you were, letting the music wash over you as you watched Feyre and Rhys finally ascend onto their thrones. They sat, though Rhys made no move to address the room. The court remained on their knees, parted on either side of the walkway like a sea.
An energy passes through you that’s equally as nerve-racking as it was thrilling, making you shiver. A siren, you said to yourself. Be a siren. You caught Azriel’s eye watching you from where he stood to the right of Rhys’s throne. Despite the mask he donned, his face cold and calculating, all hard lines and taut jaw, you saw the slightest smirk uplift the corner of his mouth, as if he were saying I told you they’d be on their knees. You steeled your nerves, drawing strength from Azriel. The male you loved so dearly, who called you so many pretty things tonight that you lost count.
You let your body go lax, stepping into the threshold of the room. You followed the beat of the sensual music, letting your hips sway as you walked in, keeping your arms relaxed at your sides. Temptress, you reminded yourself. With all eyes on you, you fell into the necessary headspace and sauntered over to the throne.
When you finally reached the throne, you fell to their feet in an exaggerated curtesy, your skirts fluttering dramatically around you. Only then did Rhys finally allow everyone to stand. “Rise,” he said simply. Everyone did except for you, where you continued to sit on the floor of their thrones, though you did look over your shoulder to the room and found that all eyes remained on you. You adjusted your position with full intention to find a more comfortable seat, turning to face the room. You leaned lazily with your back on the middle of their thrones, extending your feet and making a show of rearranging your skirts over your legs.
It was then that Kier came to address his high lord and lady. They spoke, Kier’s animosity barely concealed, Rhys and Feyre’s unhidden. Kier’s gaze kept flitting back to you in distaste, which you knew your friends noted. “We brought you a gift since you’ve been so obedient lately,” Rhys said. That was your cue.
“Isn’t she lovely?” Feyre asked as you stood.
Kier looked you over, clearly unimpressed, but simply said, “yes. Lovely.”
“Dance for us,” Feyre told you. You obeyed, stepping around Kier like he was a stranger on the street. You made your way to the middle of the room. The music picked up, the rhythm was loud and soothing. You fell into a sway, winding your arms around you gracefully. You dropped your hips rhythmically, following the sound of the drums. Once again, all eyes were on you. The distraction was working, allowing Mor to slip out and retrieve the orb that was needed. Don’t be nervous, you heard Feyre speak in your mind. Just look at how he looks at you.
You dared look back to find Azriel’s gaze between your slow, sensual twirls. Sure enough, he could barely conceal the hunger in his eyes. His head was slightly elevated, giving his eyes a heavy-lidded fall. Bedroom eyes, whether that was part of his mask or not. He’s just playing his role, you replied to Feyre in your mind.
I promise you there’s nothing ingenuine in his look, she whispered back. At that, you matched the look he was giving you, raising your chin as you danced and lazily took him in. But not for too long, as you twirled away, letting the whispers commence. Under his wistful stare, you finished your dance number, the music ending. You remained where you were, still holding everyone’s attention. The court applauded, and you turned to make your way back to the thrones.
You fell back to your previous position at their thrones. Feyre poured a glass of wine for you herself, giving you a pleased smile. You were wonderful.
You drank, letting yourself cool down in the chilly air of the courtroom. Rhys asked for food to be brought out; on his command, tables filled with food appeared, but everyone waited for the inner circle to first take their places. You stood, waited for Rhys and Feyre to sit, then followed your friends. The table laid in front of the throne only had eight seats. You hid your confusion, looking to Cassian as he took his seat. He simply winked at you and gave a small smile. Then it dawned on you. Azriel’s temptress.
You’d be seated in his lap.
Sure enough, Azriel turned to you, silently summoning you over. You walked over and took your seat, sitting on his left thigh, your own thighs falling on either side of his leg. He was so large that even on his lap, you weren’t at his eye level. He brought his arm and lazily wrapped it around your hips. You kept your composure externally, though any bravado from before melted away internally. Though he was your best friend, though affection wasn’t rare between the two of you – hell, he even put your jewelry on you himself earlier – this was certainly new.
Once you’ve adjusted, you feel yourself relax into his chest. Only then does Azriel let his hand fall onto your leg. His hand is substantially warmer than your leg, and he notices this because you feel his shadows gently stroke up your legs in an attempt to warm you. You put your hand over his and squeeze it in silent thanks.
His right hand brought food to your mouth before you could protest. You move your coined veil with your free hand, opening your mouth. He places a grape in your mouth, fingers shamelessly grazing your lips as he did. You don’t stop him. He continues to feed you, and for a moment, you wonder if any element of the alleged masks were truly inhibitory, or if in reality all they did was allow the two of you to be more authentic with each other than you would otherwise dare. A tempting contradiction to mull over as you ate grapes directly off his fingers, relishing in the warmth of his body encapsulating you.
You continued to eat, occasionally drinking wine between bites. Azriel’s hand resting on your thigh slowly makes its way up your leg, over your hip, and then drags across your abdomen. You sigh quietly at the sensation, only loud enough for him to hear. That sets Kier off. He leans over to a vizier. “He’s hand-feeding his harlot.”
Before you could even turn, you hear Kier sputter. Then you hear glass breaking. You begin to turn, but Azriel stops you by squeezing your waist. “Don’t,” he whispers. You turn to look at him.
You hold each other’s gaze, and he simply brings another grape up to your mouth, which you accept. The sputtering sound turns into outright gagging and coughing. Azriel is choking Kier, you realized. With his shadows. The rest of the court halts their eating to watch Kier struggle to breathe, clawing at his throat while Azriel keeps his eyes on you. Kier manages to wheeze out an apology. Only then do you hear him exhale in relief, breathing raggedly.
You don’t deign to look at Kier, but you do peer over to Rhys. He hadn’t objected to the punishment. “Ever the mouth breather,” he said simply. Everyone returned to their food at that.
You look back to Azriel who was still watching you. He drew lazy circles with his fingers on your abdomen. “It’s just you and me,” he murmured lowly in his baritone voice for only your ears to detect. You nodded once in agreement. Just you and me.
~
Back at the house, everyone was lounging on the couches in the living room, in no rush to get up after all the drinking. You’d removed the diadem upon arrival. “You did such a good job,” Mor praised you. You saluted your friend with two fingers. Everyone was tired at the late hour, but you were still buzzing with energy. Azriel was sitting next to you on your couch, an arm draped behind you on the couch. Whatever leash the two of you had kept on your friendship had been released tonight. Cassian lazily looks over at you and gives you a pointed smile. You just shrug and smile back.
Rhys praises the group on their good work, takes Feyre’s hand, and they head to their room. One by one, everyone follows suit. Cassian and Nesta, then the remaining females. Alone with Azriel, you turn to look at him. In the continuity of this evening, you found him already gazing at you. Sure enough, that hunger you noted in the court of nightmares was waiting for you in his eyes.
“Nice and ravenous,” you joked. He gave a relaxed smile, catching your echo of his earlier words.
“Indeed.” He held your gaze. “You did amazing,” he said more seriously.
“You helped me feel comfortable,” you told him. His hungry eyes burned into your own. You swallowed. “Maybe you can help me out of all these jewels.”
He didn’t so much as blink. “It would be my pleasure.” You get up off the couch and he does as well. You take his hand and lead him to your room.
You turned your faelight on, the rest of the room remaining dark. He came up behind you, placing his hands on your hips. He bent down and places a kiss on your exposed shoulders, trailing the kisses up towards your neck. You let yourself sag into his body, taking off your rings. His hands move up your sides, onto your arms. He repeats his earlier motion of grazing up your arms until he reaches your gold cuffs. He released them without raising his head. You took off your bracelets.
He circled to your front, holding your gaze, and he sank to his knees. Bringing his hands to your knees again, they slowly moved up your legs, cupping your thighs from behind, making you shiver. He reached for your thigh jewelry, unclasped it, and he bent forward to place a kiss where it had been. His hands continued their upward path, making their way to your hips once more. He leaned in closer, placing another kiss, this time on your belly. He pulled you closer to him by the hips, making you gasp as your back arched. He trailed more kisses up your abdomen. You put your hands in his hair, nails grazing his scalp.
He stood once more, making you peer up at him. You caught sight of his dilated pupils. He pulled you to him by the waist, bending forward once more to trail kisses up your neck. When he reached your jaw, your eyes were too heavy to keep open. He finally pressed his lips to yours feverishly kissing you.
He walked the two of you back towards your bed. To your dismay, he broke off the kiss, breathless. “You ate fruit off my fingers,” he rasped. You nodded, dazed. The backs of your knees hit your bed, making you fall back into it. Azriel simply sunk back onto his knees for the third time that night, grasping your knees, and pulling them apart. “I have every intention of also being fed.”
~
I drew inspiration from my culture w the implied bellydancing and attire. :)
taglist:
@iimisty-a @feyretopia @cityofidek
Summary: It's you're seven hundred and twentyish birthday and you spend it with Thomas Shelby, a human, who makes promises to be with you forever
Warnings: angst! Fluff! Smut! Dark moments, possessive moments, bloodyish sex, light gruesome death details, character death
Reader: Male Vampire Reader
Pairings: Thomas Shelby x Male Reader
Word Count: 7,624
A/n: Requested by @charliedakotariley ... First off I'm so sorry it took forever to get this out! Secondly I'm sorry it's so long! I got carried away! I hope it's good! I've been working on it forever! So I'm sorry if towards the end it gets stupid, I'm tired. lol... I really want to post it so I'm going to and then reread it tomorrow to fix mistakes and if you don't like it I can fix whatever you don't like. I hope you enjoy it! I hope this is kind of what you were thinking!
As the last light from the sun disappears below the horizon your eyes open. The room is pitch black but you never needed light to see. Your tired eyes adjust the longer you're awake.
You shift onto your back and release a low sigh. It had been a long week and knew that the days to come would be just as tiresome. Needless to say it took you longer than usual to leave the comfort of your bed.
Normally by the time you're walking downstairs you're dressed and ready for the night but you couldn't find it in you to look put together. So, you ignore your freshly pressed pants and ironed button up in favor for your thick robe.
You leave your room in your comfortable sleeping pants hanging low on your hips accompanied with severe bedhead. Your bare feet scrape across the hardwood floors as you make your way toward the kitchen.
When you enter the maids all pause. They had never seen you like this before. As stated earlier you usually looked put together whenever you're around others.
Why was today different? Why didn't you have the energy to compose yourself? The simple answer is because it's your birthday.
Thank you @semieitabby and everyone who got me to 3000 reblogs!
Word count: 2.7k
Synopsis: Reader has unrequited feelings for Azriel, which is actively breaking her heart. She dreams about him each night as she copes. Azriel finds her one night in her pain and they confess how they feel. Crazy angst.
A/N: I put my whole azussy into this
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Seated by the window in the Town House, you were surrounded by the laughter and merriment of your friends, but all you felt inside was a cold that could rival the snowfall outside. You sat politely so your presence wouldn’t be suspected of its fraudulent nature, smiling when it was appropriate, raising your eyebrows when it was required.
It was a rare evening where everyone had unceremoniously made their way into the House at one point or another, coming home from missions and meetings. Rhys declared it an official family night in, breaking out the good wine and moving everyone into the living room. In the past, these were the nights you loved the best; that hadn’t been the case for a while. You knew you couldn’t turn down yet another get-together without raising eyebrows, especially with how much you’ve already been avoiding your family. And so you sat, swallowing down your drink where it would sink to the pit of your belly, neighbouring the feelings you kept buried deep in your ribs.
You let your eyes wander over your friends to see if anyone suspected your fleeting detachment and caught Cassian’s eye across the room watching you. He was seated next to him, who you’ve become very good at avoiding when the yearning got too raw. It helped the pain, just marginally, to avoid him. He laughed warmly with Feyre in your peripheral vision, reinforcing the ache in your chest. You shuddered at both the pain and desire that flared up at his laughter. You kept your eyes trained on Cassian to keep the intake of him controlled. Like a maximum dosage that bordered fatality.
Cassian studied you. You cringed knowing he caught onto you, so you sent him your most convincing reassuring smile. His brows only furrowed further. It was time to make yourself scarce, lest the others see what Cassian saw. You kept your smile plastered on your face and stood to go to your room. As you walked by Cassian, he gently grasped your elbow to stop your exit. You noted the hurt in his eyes, and you shook your head softly to dismiss his concern, shrugging out of his hold.
Once you made it into your room, you let that familiar feeling of anguish wash over you like a safety net you could count on falling into each night. You sat in your armchair by the window and let your tears spill freely now. The cold from outside seeped generously into your room, but you welcomed the sting it brought, a slight numbness to contrast the excess emotions reeling inside you. Meals had become few and far in between, as if the stale love inside you occupied the space in your belly, leaving none for food.
You closed your eyes and awaited the dreams that came each night, dreams of a hazel-eyed male, his beauty that rivalled artistic sculptures, his patience and attentive nature, his beautiful hands that held your heart. The male you were so in love with that it bordered on insanity.
The male that didn’t return your feelings.
Did it count as heartbreak if it was ongoing? Was unrequited love the same as rejection? The definitions and borders were all blurry, just like your drowning eyes.
~
You were startled out of your thoughts at the sound of gentle knocking on your door, maybe a half hour later. You took a deep breath and walked over to open the door. There you found Cassian taking you in with the concerned expression he donned before. He looked behind you, scowling. “It’s freezing in here. Why are you sitting in the cold?”
You shrugged, hugging your arms across your abdomen. When you looked back up at him, Cassian was still visibly worried. His hesitation to come into your space was a testament to how aware he was of your vulnerable state because normally he’d walk right in. “Do you mind if I come in?” he asked. You nodded.
Cassian immediately made his way to your window, closing it shut. You didn’t miss him eyeing the empty bottle of drink you had near the window, but he didn’t comment on it. He sat on your bed and patted the spot adjacent to him for you to join him. You obliged.
“What’s going on, sweetheart.”
Cassian’s kind nature was testing your composure. You inhaled deeply. “Nothing, Cass. I’m fine.”
“You haven’t been fine for a while. Tell me what’s bothering you.” You hesitated, mulling it over. “Why haven’t you gone to Azriel?” he asked quietly. This prompted you to look at him in alarm. “You used to go to him for everything. Did he do something that upset you?”
You shook your head. “No, nothing happened between us.”
Cassian was thoughtful for a beat. “You’ve been avoiding him, haven’t you?”
“Not because anything bad happened,” you assured, voice small.
“Hmm,” Cassian pondered. “Nothing bad… but it is something to do with Az?”
Shit. Maybe you should’ve started with stronger denial. You exhaled in defeat, frowning at your hands in your lap again as you felt tears warm your eyes at the truth.
“You sure he didn’t do anything to upset you? I’ll kick his ass. Just say the word.”
You shook your head. “He didn’t do anything, Cass.” That’s the problem. You blinked at the tears, willing them to stay put.
“Ah,” Cassian said quietly. You looked up, sensing him reaching understanding. Cassian’s eyes were full of empathy as he spoke lowly, gently. “Do you have feelings for him, sweetheart?”
That broke your final hold on your composure. You bowed your head and began softly crying, bringing your hands up to cover your eyes. Yes. Yes. Yes.
“Oh, (Y/N). Come here,” Cassian said, moving closer to hold you.
You let him engulf you, leaning into his warmth. You kept your hands on your face, but Cassian didn’t mind, holding you to his chest regardless. You cried silently, save for the occasional sharp inhale. Cassian rubbed your back, murmuring sweet reassurances into your hair. You felt exposed, embarrassed to be caught liking his brother, having unrequired feelings – how childish did this make you look?
You pulled away from him and Cassian released you. You furiously wiped away at the hot tears, taking shuddering inhales as you forced the crying to come to a stop. “Sorry,” you said weakly.
“Don’t apologize.”
You shook your head. “It’s fine. I’m fine. Just drunk.”
Cassian saw through the dishonesty but let you have it. “Why didn’t you say anything sooner?”
“What difference would that have made?”
Cassian took your hands in his. “It would’ve helped. We’ve been worried about you, (Y/N).”
You looked at him, the unspoken question hanging in the air.
“Yes, Azriel is worried too. He thinks you’re mad at him.”
You huffed. “No, I’m not mad. It’s just, like… marginally easier this way.”
Cassian nodded in understanding. You saw him silently eyeing the bottle again. “It helps a bit,” you explained. “With the sleep.”
“What do you mean?”
“I… when I fall asleep, I, um, I dream about him.” You swallowed at the ache in your throat. “That’s the hardest part.”
“Why?” He asked, his patience endless.
“It’s just… he’s mine in the dreams, and then I wake up, and he’s… not.”
Cassian frowned. “You’re breaking my heart, kid.”
You smiled weakly, waving off his concern. “It’s not that bad. Sorry.”
He opened his arms to hug you once more, this time you reciprocated the hold. He murmured, “it’s gonna be okay, sweetheart. Give it some time.”
You nodded, indeed feeling a bit better. Cassian eventually released you, making you promise to keep the window closed all night. You laughed at the request but agreed. He even tucked you in and left you to fall into a deep sleep.
~
The next day, you worked up the courage to sit through dinner with your family. No one said anything, but you didn’t miss the momentary shock when you arrived to join them. Feyre beamed at you. Azriel tried to catch your eye, which you avoided. Cassian smiled and beckoned for you to sit beside him, so you did. Conversation resumed as you all ate.
“How was your mission in Summer Court, Az?” Rhys’s question caught your attention.
“Not bad,” Azriel answered.
“Everything go okay with Cressida?”
Azriel nodded. You firmly planted your focus on the table.
“You know, it’s time to put yourself out there,” Rhys suggested. You couldn’t suppress your frown. What?
“I can always put a good word in,” Feyre added.
“That could be a great Court relation,” Mor mused.
“You’d be great with her,” Rhys added.
You flinched.
Your cutlery clattered where they toppled onto your half-eaten plate.
Fuck.
Your stomach dropped. Azriel and Cressida?
Everyone’s attention slid to you, and your cheeks reddened. Rhys opened his mouth to ask what was wrong, so you rose abruptly before he had the chance to do so. “I—Sorry, I didn’t mean to—” you spoke weakly as you gracelessly backed your chair. Azriel’s gaze burned onto you as you did, which you also promptly ignored.
You didn’t mean to have a visible reaction. Didn’t mean to draw attention to yourself. You could hear your heartbeat in your ears.
“(Y/N),” you heard Azriel say.
“I—just—my head hurts—” you said to no one in particular. You couldn’t swallow from the dryness in your throat. The silence was deafening as they watched you leave the dining room.
Everyone remained in their seats, stunned by your sudden departure.
“What was that?” Mor asked.
Cassian watched his family piece together your reaction. Azriel had a troubled look, shadows swirling as they whispered in his ear. When Cassian turned to Rhys, he found him already watching.
Do you know what that was? Rhys spoke to Cassian mind to mind.
Cassian swallowed. Yes.
Rhys urged him on with a nod.
She’s hurting real bad, Rhys.
Rhys was silent for a moment. Let’s go somewhere else.
~
Cassian found himself in Rhys’s office with Feyre. They left one at a time to reduce the suspiciousness of the ordeal.
“What’s going on with (Y/N)?” Feyre asked.
For your sake, everyone tried to pretend not to notice, to let you work through whatever was hurting you on your own. You’d never been the type to close yourself off, so they all tiptoed. Cassian wasn’t sure if this was a breach of confidentiality; he winced but began. “(Y/N) has feelings for Az. She’s had ‘em for a while. It’s why she’s been so off lately.”
Feyre’s mouth formed an o shape.
“How long have you known?” Rhys asked.
“Not long. I didn’t want to say anything, but it’s eating her up inside.” Cassian says.
“Damn,” Feyre murmured.
Rhys frowned. “I only suggested Az moves on because I know he wants (Y/N).”
Feyre nodded. “He’s been trying to get over her. It was just bad timing, the suggestion.”
“Did you know?” Rhys asks Cassian.
Cassian grimaced. “I suspected but didn’t want to give her any false hope.”
Feyre silently mulled over it all. “What should we do?”
Cassian rose. “Leave it to me.”
~
“(Y/N),” you heard a voice say softly. “(Y/N).”
You stirred.
You opened your eyes to find Azriel crouched in front of where you’d fallen asleep in your chair by the window, his face etched with concern. Your heart swelled with affection.
“Azriel.”
“Yes, angel.” He was speaking to you so gently, like his voice could break you.
There was no way he was here. This had to be one of your dreams. God, he was so beautiful. You reached out with both your hands and traced your fingers down his cheeks. They were so much warmer than your fingers. He was looking at you with his full attention, something like longing in his eyes.
“You’re here,” you said, half-asleep.
He nodded patiently. “I’m here.”
If only. The longing in his eyes turned to pain as he took you in, prompting you to frown. “What’s the matter?” you asked.
“You haven’t been okay,” he continued using that gentle tone.
You cradled his face in your hands, letting yourself have him freely in this dream. “It’s okay,” you reassured.
He shook his head. “It’s not okay. I didn’t realize that I—that I was hurting you,” he pressed. The concern on his face drew lines of worry between his brows. “I’d never want that. I thought you wanted space, so I—” he cut himself off. He reached up and gently took your hands in his, pulling them off his cheeks and securing them into one of his hands, holding them to his chest. “Why are you in the cold? Your hands are freezing.”
You shrugged, indeed feeling the bite of the cold in your room. He must’ve closed the window upon entering. You looked around you, rousing more fully, noting how crisp everything was around you. You looked back to Azriel, feeling the warmth from his chest seeping into your hands, feeling his shadows gently caress your ankles. Was this—
“This is real,” he whispered.
You felt your pulse quicken, confirming this was indeed not a dream. “Oh,” you whispered back. But how did he—
“Cassian told me,” he answered.
“Oh,” you said again. That traitor. “What did he—how much did he—?”
Azriel’s eyes softened. “Not much, but he did say you were having trouble with sleep.” You simply nodded, dumbfounded. “I brought you some food,” he added. He pulled a bowl of hot broth from the floor. The gesture and the confrontation of it all brought tears to your eyes all over again. Neither one of you commented on them as they freely fell down your cheeks.
Azriel brought the broth between the two of you. You reached for the bowl, but he didn’t let you take it. You settled for the spoon, eating spoonfuls of broth as your tears fell, the warmth soothing the lump in your throat. After you had a good helping, Azriel was satisfied with your eating. You placed the spoon back in the bowl and he put it aside. He reached forward and wiped away your tears.
“I’m sorry for not—” he took a deep breath and tried again. “I’m not good at these things. I didn’t know if you… if you wanted this. The whole time we were close, I wanted you so bad, (Y/N). I just didn’t think I deserved you.” You shook your head, but he continued. “I still don’t think I’m good enough for you,” he confessed.
“You’re all I ever wanted,” you said.
Azriel shuddered. “God, (Y/N). You don’t know how badly I... I just don’t want to be selfish, but I suppose that’s doing us more harm than good.”
Your tears finally stopped.
“I’ll spend every day trying to do right by you, angel.”
You shook your head. “Az, I want you for who you are right now. That’s all I’ve ever wanted. There’s nothing more you have to do or any part of yourself you have to fix.”
He swallowed. “I’m sorry for hurting you.”
You shrugged, smiling. “Maybe all of this was just a cry for attention.”
Azriel barked a laugh. “Right. All of this was for attention.”
You laughed with him, and he watched as you did, eyes sparkling. You reached for him again. He opened his arms to you, and you practically threw yourself onto him, where he caught you and held you steadfast to his chest.
“So you dream about me, huh?” he mused into your shoulder.
You laughed. “Shut up. More like night terrors.”
He chuckled. “Sure thing.”
You pulled back. The two of you sat across from each other on the floor. He cradled your face. “I missed you,” he breathed.
“I did too.”
He pulled you to him gently. You didn’t resist.
His breath fanned across your face, and his lips grazed yours. He kissed you gently, testing the waters. You needed more. He complied, wrapping his arms around your waist, and pulling you into his lap where you happily climbed into. He kissed you so deeply you felt warm everywhere. You followed his lead, the intensity of it all, matching his movements until he finally broke for air. The two of you stared at each other, dazed and wild-eyed.
“Don’t leave again,” he rasped.
“I won’t.” I can’t.
“Good.”
“Say you’re here to stay,” you breathed. He kissed you one final time.
“Always, angel.”
~
taglist: @iimisty-a @feyretopiaa @cityofidek @cullenswife @reiincarnatiion @sfhsgrad-blog @answer-the-sirens @mrstangerinejohnson @marigold-morelli
Summary: Confrontation continues.
Warnings: None.
Word Count: 3,018
Notes: And now back to my regularly scheduled content.
_________________________________________
“Okay,” Mor drawls, “I think it’s time for you to slow down a bit.” She takes the shot from your hand and shares a look with Feyre. It would’ve been your fourth in a row if she hadn’t grabbed it, and you pout at the blonde who drinks it herself.
“Why?” you whine from where you’re stationed at the bar, hadn’t moved since you walked in and headed straight for the crowded area. “I don’t even feel anything.”
What you meant was that you could still feel the hurt in your heart from the way that he was treating you. The bond had been completely silent since you had walked out that door after your argument, the look on his face burned into your mind.
“It’s all going to hit you at once, don’t you worry,” Mor scoffs, rolling her eyes. Feyre hands you a drink instead, a clear one that you squint your eyes at, wondering if it’s even alcohol at all. You take a tentative sip, shoulders relaxing and sighing out at the bitter taste of spirits. You thank her, clicking your glass against hers, it’s just how you like it and exactly what you need.
“Let’s find somewhere to sit,” the High Lady ushers you towards your usual table. It’s empty – not that you’re surprised as it was always reserved for the High Lord and his family. They slide in on either side of you, trapping you in the middle of the bench seat and you sigh, maybe this wasn’t going to be a fun night out after all.
Summary: Anonymous request: Your blog is amazing!! I was thinking about how protective males are when their mate is pregnant and I was wondering what Az would be like if his mate and fellow spy was captured when spying on another court while pregnant? Or maybe another court took her further on in her pregnancy for leverage on the inner circle? Like what would his reaction be when he found out and the inner circle started looking for you, only to find you a little injured. I love protective badass Az who is a softy for his mate.
Warnings: N/A
Word Count: 3,448
_________________________________________
You knew you shouldn’t have gone. You should have just told Rhys that you were feeling unwell and you couldn’t make the meeting. Or you could have just told them the truth.
Laying in your bed this morning with a numb mind, staring at the rays of sun dancing across the ceiling as the sun rose. Placing your hands over your stomach, you thought of what you would do, how you would tell him. You longed for the empty spot next to you to be filled with the warm body of your mate, holding you tightly to him in his sleep, his face restful and calm.
He was away for nearly two weeks now, deep into the land of Rask on a mission from Rhys. It had been fine at first, as you were used to him being sent away for such things all of the time, but this morning, a new scent filling the air of your bedroom, sweet and supple, you wished he was here with you.
Summary: There were whispers of a traitor in Hewn City. Someone or someones trying to get people to rally against Rhysand and Feyre.
Who, and what they were going to be fighting for was what you were here to find out.
Warnings: N/A
Word Count: 1849
___________________________________________
As far as parties went in the Court of Nightmares, this wasn’t the worst one you’d been too.
You scanned the room, holding your cup of wine casually, though you hadn’t taken a sip quite yet. All of this: the party, the revealing floor length dress, the sultry look on your face was all for show. All for the High Lord.
There were whispers of a traitor in Hewn City. Someone or someones trying to get people to rally against Rhysand and Feyre.
Who, and what they were going to be fighting for was what you were here to find out.
Summary: As Rhysand’s emissary to the Illyrian camps, it was your duty to visit randomly, making sure that the camps were following the no wing clipping order. The rule itself wasn’t new, but after years and years of pestering Rhys, the consequences would be worse for those that did not follow the law.You were weary to visit this camp in particular, Basilia, on the northernmost point of the continent, alone. You did not voice your concerns to your High Lord though, not only because you knew he had his own business to attend to, but because as an Illyrian yourself, you were stubborn through and through.
Warnings: Depictions of Violence and Injury, Sense of not knowing who you are, wing clipping but worse (but I don’t want to give anything away)
Word Count: 4,445
Notes: This is my first ever Az fic(?)! I’m so excited to share and hope you enjoy!
________________________________________________________
Not once had you ever begged for your life like this.
What was supposed to be a routine check at the Illyrian camps had gone awry quickly.
As Rhysand’s emissary to the Illyrian camps, it was your duty to visit randomly, making sure that the camps were following the no wing clipping order. The rule itself wasn’t new, but after years and years of pestering Rhys, the consequences would be worse for those that did not follow the law.
You were weary to visit this camp in particular, Basilia, on the northernmost point of the continent, alone. You did not voice your concerns to your High Lord though, not only because you knew he had his own business to attend to, but because as an Illyrian yourself, you were stubborn through and through.
You’d arrived at the camp midday, the winter winds harsher this far North. You shuddered slightly as the wind licked across your exposed cheeks, cherry red and wind-burnt from flying.
You weren’t expecting the welcome wagon from Faustus, the resident Lord of douchebags, but you also wasn’t expecting the two Illyrians pinning your arms to your sides as another blew a dust you knew of all too well – Faebane – into your face.
You put up a good fight, considering. Trying to simultaneously fight off two warriors thrice your size while calling out down the bond to your mate before the faebane could douse your powers… It was no use.
Your heart thundered in your chest as you fought, but the Illyrians held firm. You refused to scream out for help. It was pointless anyway, your family too far away to help you now.
The short warlord finally made an appearance, as he was known to do once all of the heavy lifting was done. His greasy hair was pulled up into a slick bun at the top of his head, his eyes filled with hatred for someone like you. A woman without clipped wings.
“Faustus,” you gritted, “Let me go.”
He smirked, his lips curling cruelly around his crooked teeth. It made your stomach drop. “Or what you little bitch? What could you possibly do to someone like me?” He flicked his head behind him and the two warriors holding you hostage began moving forward. You kicked your feet out, already feeling your powers waning from the faebane.
“Rhysand will hear about this,” you spat as they dragged you past him. The man only laughed at your response.
Summary: Sometimes even the Spymaster has his bad days.
Warnings: Mental health.
Word Count: 673
_________________________________________
“Azriel,” you call, pushing open the door to his apartment, key in one hand, a hot bag of his favorite takeout in the other.
You stop short, halfway in the doorway and half in the brightly lit hallway. His home is dark, not even a fire raging in the hearth. Was he not here?
Pairings: Cassian x reader
Warnings: none
⚠︎︎English is not my first language.
__________________________________________
You're reading your book when suddenly someone comes up from behind you, snapping it shut.
"Hey!" You exclaim, trying to snatch it back. The Illyrian‘s reflexes are too fast. He reads the book’s title, grinning slightly to himself.
"Never knew you read romances." He says with a little chuckle.
You feel your face get hot. "I don't."
It's a terrible argument, but the only thing you can think of to say.
“Oh right, my mistake. The title ‘10 ways to fall in love' must just be my poor eyesight." He says sarcastically.
You can’t help but laugh at the situation. He stares distracted, looking at your smile.
You take the opportunity to snatch the book back, jumping back into the sofa.
"You and your silly books." He says, rolling his eyes.
"They're not silly.“ You reply defensively, turning your attention back to the book.
"What's a guy got to do for a girl‘s attention." He whispers under his breath, with a small laugh.
You stare at your mate, with a little grin. “I’ve got something in mind.“
"How many?" He asked after a second of silence.
"| don't understand-."
He leans closer to you, trapping you against the sofa.
"How many books do you want?" His breath fans against your lips, mingling with your own.
Words seem to evade you as you can't focus on anything but his lips.
He leans even closer, his lips lightly touching yours and whispers.
"Tell me before I buy you the whole bookstore...especially that romance section you seem to love so much.“
Piebald Mare/Stallion
The conjurers of this patronus have an air of uniqueness, always straying away from the norm to be free to be who they really are. This uniqueness can come across in many ways, including the way the individual dresses, their creativity in the many different types of art forms and their personality quirks. These people tend to be first nervous around new peers but when comfortable they’re willing to open up. For different people it takes a different amount of time for them to become an open book, it could be between half an hour or even a couple of days or more. Those with this patronus deeply enjoy outings with a close circle of friends, whether it’s just to catch up over a drink or a picnic in a park with beautiful scenery, nevertheless these people still need time to be alone and ‘recharge’ as they find the serenity of solitude soothing.
Anyone who has a horse as their patronus, no matter which breed, always aspires to have freedom. It can be in different forms but these individuals always seek this particular thing out, whether it’s mentally, physically, spiritually or sexually. A different type of branch of freedom which is especially for the conjurers of the Piebald horse is that they hate having no choices, they need the freedom to know other options of a dire decision and figure out which possibility is best for them. These individuals are known to have strong passion and motivation for whatever they deem special and important and work tirelessly to achieve their goal.
Summary: You come into Gotham to find someone the Green Arrow is hunting only to find your boyfriend about to kill him… You leave the guy for Arsenal to pick up in favor of some quality time with your man.
Warnings: Sex, violence, insecurities, fluff, angst, jealousy
Reader: Female Reader
Pairings: Jason Todd x Female Reader
Word Count: 3146
A/n: This started out as me working on a request but then it got out of hand… The request was about Jason x reader having sex for the first time and well this is evident that it is not the first time… So, whoever requested that (it was a long time ago lol) I still have it and I’ll work on it, promise!
Jason was seconds away from blowing this assholes brain all over the brick wall when a purple arrow knicks his hand causing him to drop the gun. A second arrow, released only a second later, pierces right through the criminal’s shoulder and through the brick preventing him from running.
Cursing, Jason pulls his second gun out of the holster and points it at the intruder. You just smirk and jump off the fire escape and scale down to the alley floor. Jason keeps his gun trained on you, even when you walk up to him.
“Is this any way to greet your girl?” You ask, tilting your head.
“What did I tell you about getting in my way?” Jason gruffs, glaring at you through his red mask.
“Relax, big boy,” You roll your eyes, walking around him, completely disregarding the gun. “You can continue killing the scum of Gotham for all I care… This one, however, is coming with me,”
“Who is he?” He asks, holstering both guns. “You nicked my fucking hand,” He grumbles, looking at his torn glove.
“Want me to kiss it better?” You ask, sending him a sexy grin over your shoulder. He smirks back but you can’t see it. “This is just some asshole who knows bigger assholes that Green Arrow and Artemis are trying to track down. When we got word, he was in Gotham I volunteered to collect him,”
“How nice of you,” Jason smirks, standing beside you.
“I have my moments,” You mutter, turning toward him. “Though I must admit, I had alternative motives,”
Oh my goodness
Comfort in The stars has got me crying like a baby, I love it so much. Your writing is amazing.
Thank you! I loved writing it, something a little different than my usual stuff. I'm glad you enjoyed it thanks for the feedback!
